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shadowedoracle · 2 years ago

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The Dark One Doesn’t Get Sick

Summary: The Dark One doesn't get sick. Or so he claims. But since the he clearly has a terrible cold, Belle takes it upon herself to care for him and make him rest up. Cue one baffled, grouchy patient.

Rating: T

A/N: This was originally intended to be my Fluffapalooza fic for last year. It was all drafted in my notebook but I got sick and when it was only partially typed up. And since I felt terrible pretty much all the rest of 2022 it kind of got stuck in limbo ( Like so much of my work. I really do want to go back and finish my WIPs and write new stuff but damn migraines get in the ways). Anyways, I could have left publishing it until this year's Fluffapalooza but, given it was pretty much complete (on paper), that idea kind of depressed me. So tada! I finished typing up and editing a thing!

[AO3]

“I’b not sick,” Rumplestiltskin said with a mulish expression on his face. “The Dark One doesn’t get --” he blew his nose loudly into a brightly coloured handkerchief -- “sick.”

Belle rolled her eyes at him. “The evidence in front of me says otherwise. That cough’s been getting worse since yesterday and your nose is sounded more bunged up than ever.”

He waved a hand dismissively at her, “It’s nothing.” He let out a hacking cough. “It’s just a slight irritation from a dusty ancient tome of potions I was reading. Maybe if you dusted the library more, instant of lying about reading, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Belle leveled a cool glare at him that had reduced many former suitors and her father’s counselors to babbling wrecks. Rumplestiltskin held his ground but his hands started fidgeting in front of him and after a few moments he became very interested in the pattern on a tapestry on the wall beside him. Taking advantage of his distraction Belle darted forward and placed the back of her hand on his brow before her could stop her.

“And I suppose the dust and fumes gave you a raging fever too, did they?” She said, letting the full depth of her incredulity colour her voice.

Large reptilian eyes, which had dilated as soon as he’d realized she had stepped into his space, narrowed into tiny slits to glare at her. “Yes.” He snapped.

She stepped back and crossed her arms, considering the stupid stubborn, sick sorcerer in front of her. Rumple let out another series of hacking coughs and she winced at the rattling sound coming from his lungs. That did it.

“Come with me,” she said, grabbing his hand and dragging him behind her to avoid any argument.

Of course, she knew he could always use his magic to vanish, but had maybe his sickness interfering with his magic or else he’d forgotten its existence (he seemed to do that from time to time) or perhaps decided better of it. And so, after a few moments of dragging his feet, the Dark One meekly allowed himself to be led through the corridors of the Dark Castle by his maid.

“Where are we going?” He grumbled as they climbed the central staircase to the third floor.

“Your room,” she said, not bothering to look at him.

He stopped dead and, when he didn’t move again at her commanding tug, she turned her head back and frowned at him.

“W-w-why?” He rasped.

Belle barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes again. “Because you need to be tucked up in bed, not roaming around making yourself sicker.”

“And… and you plan on tucking me in?” He asked in an odd tone she couldn’t decipher. She thought she saw blush staining his golden-scaled cheeks and his pupils were wider than normal, but those could just be further symptoms of his illness.

Her own cheeks felt slightly hot. She hadn’t actually thought this plan all the way through but there was no backing out now -- anyway Rumple needed to be taken care of.

“Yes,” she said shortly. Rumple stared at her in stunned silence, but didn’t let go of her hand or protest as she began dragging him along again.

This wasn’t the first time she’d stunned the Dark One into silence. In fact, she’d done it often enough now that it no longer felt like much of an achievement. But she did still feel a sense of pride and relief that he’d stopped protesting -- for now.

When they reached Rumplestiltskin’s room she ordered the Dark Castle to light a fire. Orange flames sprang up immediately in response to her request and she thought the room would warm up quickly. Certainly, the fires in the Dark Castle seemed faster, and far more effective at heating even the draftiest of rooms, than the fires in her father’s castle had ever been. It was one of the many small bits of magic that she was very grateful for.

Rumple’s hand had gone slack in hers and she grasped his sweaty palm firmly again tugging in towards his bathing chamber.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” He squeaked, coming to a halt and wresting his hand from hers as she made to enter the small room.

She turned to face him, taking in the rattling of his breathing and the feverish sheen to his scaled skin. “Running you a steamy bath,” she replied striding into the bathing chamber.

She wasn’t sure if Rumple would follow, glancing back she saw he just stood stock still -- stiller than any human or animal she’d ever seen -- and stare at her as she filled the bath with water. She said silent thanks that he hadn’t countered her commands to the Dark Castle or magicked her to some other part of the it.

Deciding to leave him to adjust to the idea, she picked up the bottles around the side of his bath, sniffing them carefully in turn before adding a few drops of Eucalyptus oil and peppermint oil into his bath along with a few other oils she thought would help clear his nose and lungs. A nice cleansing fragrance wafted from the quickly-filling bath and large clouds of steam spread through the small room.

She turned around, satisfied the Castle could finish the bath for her. At some point Rumplestiltskin had entered the chamber but he was still hovering a few paces from the door, looking like he was unsure what was happening. She hoped his fever wasn’t making his affecting his mind.

“Your bath’ll be ready soon,” she said moving towards him.

“I really don’t see what a bath full of fancy smelling water is supposed to do,” he said casting a suspicious look at the bath.

“The steam should help clear your nose and chest and the vaporized oils will sped up the process and have longer lasting effects. Surely you used to have such baths before you became the Dark One?” His hands fidgeted in front of him. “No,” he finally said, his eyes downcast.

She paused, wondering at his response and trying to decipher his awkward and uncomfortable body language. Myriad other questions rushed into her head that she longed to ask, but now did not seem like the time to press him.

“Well,” she said gently, hoping the soothing tone would mollify him, “it’s very nice and effective. It’s always helped me when I’ve had a cold.”

He sniffed, although whether that was in response to her words or because of his illness, she couldn’t say.

A few minutes later, the Castle finished filling the bath, “it’s ready for you,” she said, smiling at Rumple, but he made no move to come any further into the room or get ready for his bath. She sighed to herself, why do I have to do everything here? Not that this couldn’t have an upside. She hurriedly buried that thought away knowing it was dangerous territory as she walked back towards him.

She stepped into his personal space, only a handsbreadth between them, and heard his breath catch. She waited, but no cough followed. Perhaps the steam was doing him some good already.

Her heart beat quicker at the closeness of Rumple and the heat coming off him (but some of that might be his fever, she thought). Despite the warmth of him, he stood as if frozen to the spot, only the muscles in his face moving. His eyes were wide and round and he was hardly breathing, staring at her like a frightened deer unsure which way to flee.

Gathering her courage she reached out and undid the first button of his waistcoat. As she reached for the second button he suddenly came to life again; letting out a high pitched squawk that was very unbecoming of the Dark One (and that she was sure he’d deny ever making) he jumped out of her reach.

“What in blazes to you think you’re doing?” He cried, now a good few feet from her.

She leveled a steady gaze at him. “Getting you ready for your bath. You can hardly get in wearing all that,” she said waving her hand up and down, indicating the leather jacket, the richly embroidered red and gold waist coat, tight-fitting brown leather trousers -- probably best not to think too much about those right now, she admonished herself.

He was staring at her like she’d grown an extra head and the silence between them was only broken by his raspy breathing and gentle sound of the bath filling itself with water.

As she watched, she saw a range of emotions play out across Rumple’s face: there was yearning there -- a desire to be cared for she could see that. But it was warring with incredulity, reluctance and fear. It seemed to take him an age to decide what mask to wear.

“I’m quite capable of getting myself undressed,” he snarled at her.

She mentally shook her head, he could never intimidate her, for she knew he was all bark and no bite when it came to her. She crossed her arms again. “Fine. Go on then.”

He stared at her. His eyes searching hers as if looking for something although she wasn’t sure quite what.

“Turn around then.” He made one of his signature little twirls of his hand.

She did as he requested, charmed by his shyness. Although a part of her was disappointed not see him strip and stand before her naked… She shook herself mentally. You’re here to look after him because he’s sick Belle, not ogle the poor man.

She heard a splash and a groan from behind her, before he muttered, “you can turn around now.”

She turned around to see Rumple’s head visible over a mound of bubbles. He must have made those himself. Certainly none of the oils she’d added, made thick bubbles like that. But if bubbles were what he wanted, and were what made him comfortable, she didn’t mind.

She smiled at him. “Good. Now you can just stay there until I say you can get out.”

She left the bathing chamber ignoring the muttering about bossy, uppity, little maids, she knew he didn’t really mind those qualities at all. Back in his room. she got to work plumping pillows, and making sure the whole space was nice, cozy and optimally conducive to an invalid’s recovery.

When she had judged sufficient time had passed, she put her head around the bathroom door. Rumple lay in the bath his head back on the rim of the tub, his eyes closed, but the his breathing told her he was still awake. She noticed the layer of bubbles over the bath was still thick and concealing -- there was definitely some magic at play there, for sure.

“You may get out now,” she said, and Rumple’s eyes flew open to meet hers. She smiled at him and continued, “but don’t stuff yourself back into your regular clothes you should wear something soft and loose.”

She didn’t stay to hear his response but instead strode into the bed chamber and stood in readiness beside the bed. After a few minutes Rumple emerged from his bathing chamber, clad in a simple, loose-fitting, light cotton shirt and pair trousers. His wild curls were frizzier than ever, and she longed to comb through them with her fingers to see if they were as soft as they looked.

She smiled at Rumple and patted the bed, hoping her last thoughts weren’t visible on her face. “Now lie on top of the bed here.”

He gave her a suspicious look but, to her slight surprise, he complied without complaint.

“Open your shirt.”

He bolted upright and stared at her. “What?” He spluttered.

She picked up the small jar of lotion from his bedside table and raised it to his eye line for his inspection. “I need to put this on your chest. It with help you breath easier again.”

He continued to stare at her in stupefied silence. “Will you let me?” She asked, aware that this request was tiptoeing along the edge of, and perhaps further blurring, that unspoken boundary between them.

For a few more minutes he stared into her eyes, and she found herself holding her breath, hoping he could see the kindness and friendship she was offering were genuine. He must have found that (or another answer he deemed satisfactory) for without another word he carefully raised his hands to his buttons, his fingers shaking, and undid his shirt buttons one by one. She wondered why he had chosen to undo them without magic. She could never work out when he’d use it or when he wouldn’t. He loved using it and yet, at times, he seemed to need to do things himself physically, and sometimes he seemed to forget he had magic available to use at all.

As he opened his shirt, she tried hard not to stare the gleaming green-gold scaled chest he bared before her. He was slender, yet well-built, his wiry form revealing nicely toned muscles.

She wrenched her gaze away, back up to his face, and found he was gazing right right at her. She could feel her face growing hot and couldn’t meet his eyes. To give herself something else to concentrate on, she knelt on the bed beside him and rubbed lotion onto her hands.

“This might feel a feel a bit sticky and cold at first,” she said. Her hands hovering just above his exposed chest.

He sighed, but inclined his head and replied, “Do your worst.”

Her hands were trembling slightly as she lowered them to his chest. He let out a slight gasp, and she glanced up to see him staring up at her, his pupils even larger and darker than usual, and filled with an awe and adoration that made her whole body warm and her breath quicken. Although she could have stared at him like that forever, she found herself the first one to look away, afraid if she said or did the wrong thing the moment would end and he’d not let her continue to care for him. He was sick, his health was more important that this... whatever, it was that this was. She focused her attention back onto his chest and tried to think of calm, boring things and not what had been in Rumple’s eyes, nor the fact that she was touching him skin-to-skin.

After that first gasp, he remained silent (bar the odd cough and squeeze) as she applied the lotion to his chest. He held himself very still at first, his body palpably tense but gradually, under her gentle ministrations, his muscles relaxed.

The cool of the fresh lotion and her slow pace were at odds with the way her heart raced at the sight and feel of Rumplestiltskin’s bare chest. His scales added a slightly raised texture to his skin and she loved the feel of it against her palms and more than anything she wanted to see if he had those same scales all over him. Her eyes seem to glance down towards his waist almost of their own accord and she had to force herself to stare back at his chest, decidedly ignoring the tug of approval in her lower body and the pulsing of her blood telling her just how much she wanted to look.

No she told herself sternly. You are looking after the poor man because he’s sick. You are not here for your own pleasure. He doesn’t actually want you or even really care about you. He couldn’t. Why, of all the women in the world, would he want you? He certainly wouldn’t want you to look at or touch him like that. So you will not be so depraved as to enjoy his sick body for your own titillation.

When at last she had applied the lotion to his chest and upper back, she pulled away and scrambled off the bed.

“You can close your shirt and get under the covers now,” she told him as she went into the bathing chamber to rinse off her hands.

When she emerged Rumple was tucked up in bed with the covers up to his chin. She broadly smiled at the sight. “Good. Now you just stay tucked up there for a while.”

“But what am I supposed to do?” he whined, looking somewhat bewildered.

She rolled her eyes. “Relax. Sleep. Sleep will help you heal faster you know.”

“The Dark One doesn’t sleep.”

“Ever?” She knew he was semi-nocturnal, and most spent nights at his spinning wheel or locked up in his laboratory, but she had assumed since he had a bed chamber and a bed that he must sleep at least sometimes. Unless he only keeps them for other… purposes. Her mind helpfully interjected. She dragged her thoughts away from that and tried ignore the images it provided, of what exactly he might use that bed for instead of sleep.

Rumple shrugged. “I suppose the Dark One may have been known to doze.” He paused then added, “Only very, very occasionally though.”

“Perhaps this could be one of those occasions?” She suggested.

He shrugged again. “Perhaps.”

She thought about that. She had meant to just leave him to sleep. But if sleep was such an unusual and rare occurrence and she left him alone and he couldn’t sleep… He’d just get bored and leave this bed far too soon.

“I tell you what,” she said slowly, an idea blooming in her mind. “Why don’t I read to you?”

He stared at her, and was silent just long enough she started to worry before he nodded and waved his hand at her. “I suppose that would be acceptable.” He had obviously been trying for the careless, nonchalant tone he used while making his deals but it was thoroughly undermined by a coughing fit as soon as he finished speaking.

“Stay there then. I’ll be right back.”

He rolled his eyes at her and she smiled as she dashed to her own bedroom to find a suitable book.

When she returned a few minutes later he had buried himself deeper into his covers and she smiled at him wrapped up and cozy, frizzy black hair splayed over his pillow.

A comfortable chair had appeared beside the bed and she smiled at the gesture.

“So what story are you going to regale me with?” He asked as she sat down.

She turned the book towards him. “Her Handsome Hero.” He read aloud in a scathing tone and sneered at her. “I suppose this is one of those insipid cheap romances where the ‘hero’” he said the word mockingly, “is a bland and unnaturally good -- and unnaturally good-looking -- sort of man who rides around slaying villains to impress pretty maidens.”

“No. No. This is not like that. This book is about compassion and forgiveness... the things that truly make a hero. But it doesn’t pretend those qualities are easy, and both the hero and the villain are complicated and nuanced characters not just one-dimensional stereotypes. I swear. Why don’t you give it a try and see?”

He had a stubborn and disgruntled look on his face that she recognized well. And with the mass of covers in his large bed swamping him, she was reminded very strongly of a small child pouting.

She sighed internally. She had known choosing this book was a risk. But she wanted to share this book, share her love for it, and share this part of her with him.

“Just one chapter?” She said, when the silence between them had dragged on for a few minutes. “If you hate it, I can stop.”

He remained silent and she thought for sure he was going to refuse, when finally he let own a grumbling sigh. “Fine,” he said and held up a single finger. “One chapter.”

She smiled and nodded, “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” he grumbled.

“Well then, ‘Once upon a time…’” She began, settling into her narration voice. Rumple made several scoffing noises throughout the chapter, and muttered a few things she chose to ignore, but didn’t disrupt her reading.

When she reached the end of the first chapter she looked up and raised an eyebrow in askance at him.

“Fine. One more,” he muttered. “And only because I want to cheer on that obnoxious twit’s foes. They better manage to kill him.” He grumbled.

That second chapter, soon became a third, then a fourth and a fifth. By the end of the fifth chapter he voice was getting raspy and sounded almost as bad as Rumple’s, despite the glass of water he’d provided for her.

“I think that’s all I can manage today.” She said, closing the book. Rumple didn’t reply and she leaned over concerned. His eyes were closed and his chest was rising and falling in the gentle rhythm of sleep.

She smiled. Apparently the Dark One did get sick and did sleep after all. She stood up from her chair and glanced around the room, making sure Rumple had everything he needed in here for now. She’d check on him in a few hours. But she ought to give him some privacy to sleep.

As she began to make her way for the door, Rumple reached out and grabbed her hand. She jumped and turned back towards him, clearly he was not as asleep as she’d thought, though his eyes remained closed. “Stay,” he murmured.

She mentally shrugged, well if he wanted her company a little longer she didn’t mind that. She made to settle back into her chair.

Rumple shook his head. “No. In here… With me.” He gestured to the other side of the bed and she stilled, her heart racing.

An invitation to share his bed. She’d wanted it for a long time, almost since the beginning, if she was honest with herself. Of course, she’d wanted something a little different from this. She hadn’t exactly pictured keeping a sick Dark One company as the first -- and probably only -- time she’d receive an invitation to his bed.

“Please?” He said, tugging on her hand.”

She nodded. “All right.” She said and kicked off her shoes and padded around to the other side of the bed. She hadn’t been going to refuse. But the vulnerable note in his voice tugged her mind to the present circumstances and away from thinking about other kinds of invitations to his bed.

She settled herself under the covers leaving a few hands of space between them. At first she just lay there on her back, wondering what Rumple expected of her and how she was supposed to sleep with him so close by. She had her answer to the first question, as few moments later, sleepy arms pulled her closer to him and Rumple curled up into her side, his head on her right shoulder and his right arm lying across her stomach.

She reached out and gently swept some of his curls from his face -- they were as soft as satin -- and gazed at the softness and the vulnerability in his sleeping form. Her heart expanded in her chest and her breath caught as she realized what an honor it was that Rumple was willing to share this level of vulnerability with her, how much he had truly come to trust her. Perhaps this was a deeper, more meaningful and more intimate invitation than the one she’d originally desired. She closed her eyes, listening to the soft rasps of his breathing. If this was the only night she had in Rumple’s bed, in his arms, then it was enough. It was perfect in its own way and that was -- would have to be -- enough.

***

Hours later Rumplestiltskin awoke with his head buried in something soft yet firm, that was most definitely not did not feel like his pillow. He opened his eyes and lifted his head, and felt his eyes widen as he realized it was in fact, Belle’s bosom, still mostly encased in her blue dress and white blouse, that he’d been using as a pillow.

He was closer to Belle than he’d ever truly believed possible. She was breathing slowly and peacefully in slumber, and letting out the occasional slight snore that was unspeakably adorable.

He knew he should move away, put some space between them and place his head back on his own pillow. It would embarrass her if she awoke to find him nestled against her chest. But… he’d slept a little for the first time in ages. Much more deeply than he normally did too. It was highly unlikely he’d fall asleep again tonight. So what was the harm in lying against Belle a little longer and only moving away when she started stirring? Belle need never know.

It was depraved of him he knew, but for some reason she’d agreed to share a bed with him tonight but likely never would again. Besides, he’d never pretended to be either good or strong-willed.

He nestled back into her chest and Belle sleepily wrapped her arms around him, holding him in place. As he lay there in perfect contentment, for the first time in centuries, sleep overtook him once more. His last thought, before unconsciousness claimed him, yet again, was: I ought to get sick more often.

#Rumbelle #Rumbelle Fic #Fic: The Dark One Doesn't Get Sick #My Fic #Shadowedoracle's Fic #More Dark Castle Fluff #Because I just love it

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takadasaiko · 6 months ago

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Burn the Worlds Chapter Twenty-Three

Story Summary: Rumplestiltskin had everything set up just as it needed to be for his curse and to find Bae, but when an enemy bent on destroying him makes his way through to Storybrooke as well, he may find that his cursed persona isn't a match for the cleric. Pre-S1.

Chapter Summary: Regina finds herself responsible for a small child while Rumple and the others make their way back into Storybrooke.

FFN II AO3

She had thought she had it for a moment. A spark of magic and a break in the wall that, if she'd only been able to make it work, could have been her path to freedom. Instead the spell had rebounded on her, never quite slipping through whatever Magnus had done to trap her magic inside of her, and had thrown her back so that she'd skidded along the rocky pathway. Regina had bounded back to her feet - ignoring every inch of torn clothing, scraped skin, and the fact that she'd lost both heels in opposite directions - and raged at the only thing she could physically get her hands around. Not that the wall moved. The outburst hadn't even really helped her feel better.

But it had terrified the child that appeared out of nowhere behind her. The Evil Queen-turned-mayor blinked in surprise at the boy she didn't recognize. He was small, perhaps around four or five years old, and Regina was sure she'd never seen him before. His clothing certainly wasn't something they often found in their cursed town. No, it was much more in line with the land they were all from. "And who are you?" she demanded, and the little boy froze under one of the lamps Magnus - or maybe whoever worked the mines - had left lit. He stared with wide, unblinking eyes with fear freezing him in place and Regina took a breath, putting effort into softening both her expression and her voice. Who he was didn't matter as much as how he'd gotten there. If he could get in, she could get out. "It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you." The boy didn't seem to believe her and she tried for a smile, leaning over with her hands pressed against the torn knees of her pantsuit so that she was closer to eye-level with him.

At least that wasn't the wrong move to make. His little shoulders that had been pulled back rounded a bit more and the fear in his dark eyes gave away ever so slightly to a more curious expression. He watched her and she did her best to remain patient until he was willing to speak. "I got lost," he said after several long, excruciatingly tedious moments.

Regina glanced in the direction he'd come down. "What were you looking for? Maybe I can help."

He sniffed, wiping his nose with the back of his ratty sleeve. "My bad man took him and I'm 'spose to find the safe place." Tears welled up in his eyes and he looked down at his dirty boots as a sob bubbled up.

Panic clawed at the Evil Queen as the child that was beginning to blubber. It started quiet at first, but as it grew louder, she heard the telltale signs of a creature stirring deep within the bowels of the mines. She didn't think that Maleficent could make it all the way up here, but she wasn't sure she wanted to bet her life on that.

Which meant she had to find a way to quiet a terrified little boy. Preferably without hurting him.

So instead she reached a hand out, slow and careful, and was absolutely surprised when the boy took that as an invitation and launched himself forward with his tear-streaked face pressed into her blazer. It was Regina's turn to freeze for a fraction of a moment before something strangely instinctual seemed to move her hand of its own volition and she found herself stroking dark hair. "It's alright," she promised.

He looked up at her. "You'll help me find my papa?"

Her red lips quirked up at the corners. "If you can show me how you got in, we'll see what we can do."

—-

Three centuries of weaving threads spun from visions of the future together to create a path to find his son had left Rumplestiltskin with more than just a penchant for deal making. No, deals were simply the tool he used. It was the control that had secured his path to the Land without Magic. Each step, each move was meticulously planned, and he'd learned to manipulate those around him like chess pieces on a board. He'd had to. He certainly couldn't have relied on them to follow the frighteningly narrow road that had led them all here. Not on their own.

And he'd made it. Perhaps not quite like he'd Seen, but he'd been reunited with his son. That fact hadn't wiped away his habit - his need - for control, especially as they went rushing back into the unknown against a powerful and intelligent enemy. It had taken two equally stubborn wills - and Bae's own love's not far behind - and an admittedly solid argument that while all appearances indicated that his system was clear of the poison, they wouldn't know for sure until they crossed back over the town line. It was the idea of putting the two he loved the most in danger that had him sitting - albeit a bit irritably - in the passenger seat of his own vehicle as Bae drove back towards Storybrooke.

It was a good thing too, because the rush of magic that flooded his veins as soon as they crossed the threshold was overwhelming. Bypassing the sheer surprise from it - he had expected to be the only one with the capability of dragging magic through to this word - it had an odd feel to it. The familiar tinge of darkness had him questioning if Regina had been fool enough to try something so desperate or - perhaps more likely - Magnus had forced her into being the conduit. If so, they might be too late after all. Best not to get ahead of himself on that one and tip Emma into an ill-planned attempted rescue.

The strange, almost bitter magic that would take more time and effort to dissect wasn't the only familiarity tugging at him. No… it was a small, vicious voice that had been oh so quiet these past years. Even waking up from the illusion of Mr Gold hadn't done more than stir his curse in the most distant of ways. With magic in Storybrooke, he didn't just feel the darkness that his curse steeped his soul in, he could hear it whispering. Encouraging. He had power again. Power to destroy his enemies. To decimate the clerics once and for all. The others might try to stop him, to hold him back for the sake of the ignorant town that surrounded them, but how else could he truly keep Baelfire safe if he wasn't willing to sacrifice a few useless —

"Papa?"

Bae's voice cut through the rising temptation and Belle's gentle hand on his shoulder from behind helped to push it back to a manageable space in his mind. Rumplestiltskin blinked, pulling a steadying breath through his nose and releasing it between his lips. He reached up to touch his True Love's hand and tried to offer his son a reassuring smile. "I'm alright."

"What happened?"

Don't tell them. They don't understand. They'll only try to hamper you.

He shoved hard at the twilling voice in his mind. No. These weren't some bumbling townsfolk. This was Bae and Belle and the little someday savior that was turning out to be a clever one in her own right. He didn't have to manipulate them. He could trust them, and he would…. once he knew what they were dealing with. Once he had answers.

Bae braked, the small jolt of the vehicle pulling him out of the deal he was mentally working between himself and his curse. He turned to watch his son put the car into reverse. "What're you doing?"

"Getting you out of here."

"I'm fine."

"Didn't look it."

Rumplestiltskin tried for a smile. "I was just… lost in thought."

Baelfire shot him a withering look that said he wasn't fooled by the careful wording.

Emma, from the back, didn't know him quite as well. "If it's not the poison, we should keep going. The longer we sit out here on the road the more likely Magnus is gonna spot us." She paused as Bae craned back to look at her. "Not that that would have happened if we'd switched cars like I said."

Rumple quirked an eyebrow at his son's sudden nervous demeanour. "Switched cars?"

"Nothing," the younger man snapped, turning his eyes back to the road and shifting back into drive. "Where do I turn for this cabin of yours?"

"Just up on the right," his father instructed, and from behind him Belle's gentle touch turned into an equally gentle squeeze before she settled back.

The air was tense with unanswered questions as the car turned down a dirt path, sending dust flying as the tires ground against the loose gravel. Rumplestiltskin's dark eyes scanned every dancing shadow and rustling leaves, feeling for the magic that surrounded him and beginning to weave loose threads he could tighten into a spell should he need to defend them. Everything was in motion, and that was just the present. He didn't dare try to look to the future and miss something quite literally right in front of him. He wasn't sure this brand of magic would even let him. Like so many other things since Bae had found him, this wasn't part of the carefully crafted plan.

There were no lights shining from the cabin. He wasn't sure if he'd actually been there before or if the curse had simply formed up memories that told him he had. If he hadn't, there was a fair chance that there was nothing that Magnus would readily find to link him to the hideaway. Time would tell.

"You have a key or are we getting creative?" Emma asked as the car pulled to a stop.

"On the top lip of the window sill to the left of the door," Rumple answered, and only then was he certain that the cursed memories were the only ones he had of this place.

"It doesn't look like there was a forced entry," Belle murmured from behind him. "Should we drive around behind to check?"

"Just as likely we'll get stuck back there," Bae murmured, and his father could practically see his son's clever mind working the problem out. "Emma, hop up to the driver's seat. Papa and I will go around. If you hear us shout, you kick it into reverse and don't stop, got it?"

"I'm not leaving you here!" she answered emphatically. "I'm not abandoning you."

Bae turned in his seat to catch her eye. "'Course not. You'll come back for us. We just need someone getting out if shit hits the fan."

Rumplestiltskin risked a push of magic outward as Emma Swann weighed her trust in Baelfire's plan. As far as he could tell, no one was there. The problem was that he didn't know what he didn't know about this magic, and that could get them killed. No. Bae's idea was sound. At least as sound as they were going to get.

"You better come back," Emma pressed and Bae flashed her a grin.

"You don't get rid of me that easily. You ready, Papa?"

It took a moment longer than it should have for Rumplestiltskin to pull himself back to where they were. If Bae's look was anything to go by, he noticed, even if he didn't verbalise it. Rumple nodded and opened his door, easing himself out of the passenger side even as Bae and Emma swapped places.

"Be careful," Belle said softly and he offered her a tight smile. This was going to be the closest they could get to safe for the time being.

Bae motioned that he'd go left, his father going right and Rumple had nothing to argue in that. He kept his footsteps and cane as quiet as he could manage as he circled around the cabin, dark eyes looking for signs that someone had found a way in and was either lurking in the shadows or would come back soon. There was nothing. As far as he could tell every window was intact. He met Bae at the back porch, and that door too appeared to be firmly shut, locked, and unbothered.

His son took a closer look under the stairs before climbing them. "This is your last chance to be honest without a full audience," he said as he came to a stop at the edge of the porch, forcing Rumplestiltskin to crane his head to look up at him.

The curse stirred, fighting against the opening Bae had left him. His son was trying to extend an olive branch. To deny it would be pointless. It wouldn't take long before they ran across trouble and magic was flung around for all to see. It wasn't like Bae would believe him even if he lied about it. Of course the Dark One knew that magic had come to Storybrooke.

He hummed softly to himself, limping around to the stairs and mentally striking a quick deal with his curse that promised death and destruction against his enemies in return for trust in him that he knew how to choose his allies. He couldn't risk either Bae or Belle running should he put this off. "Let's get everyone inside." A clear flick of his fingers called magic to flip the internal lock and let the door swing open. He looked around, meeting his son's surprised look.

"That's what you were reacting to," Bae breathed. "Coming over the town line."

"Indeed."

"How?"

Rumplestiltskin pushed a breath out his nose, risking a quick glance to the future. Or it would have been, had magic worked the same here as it did in their world. Now it was an onslaught of fractured images rushing at him with the same ferocity that his own had when he'd first heard Emma's name here. He stumbled, desperate to throw up a shield around his mind, and felt his son's hands against his shoulders. "Papa?"

"I'm alright," he promised. "It works… differently here. How, exactly, remains to be seen." He offered Bae a tight attempt at a reassuring smile and started into the cabin. He could practically feel the questions that remained unasked for the moment hanging in the air as he made his way to the front door and opened it.

The door to the car opened and Emma popped out. "I thought the key was up here!"

Rumple didn't miss his love's studying blue gaze as she slipped out of the back seat, that clever mind of hers working towards possible answers. A sudden rush of magic wasn't the only answer available, certainly, but he didn't dare let her come to the conclusion on her own. He motioned for them both to follow inside where Bae stood waiting for his papa to share the whole truth.

—

They were lost. Not that that was overly difficult to achieve when the escape plan had consisted of following a small child through dark tunnels and hoping he could lead them out the way he'd come in. Somewhere in the more logical part of her mind, Regina knew she couldn't blame him, but that hadn't stopped her temper from boiling over and the boy from crying, the sobs growing and echoing to the point that she was sure someone would hear them. Probably not someone that could or even would help though.

Regina pulled in a steadying breath and knelt next to the boy who had told her his name was Roland. "Hey?" she tried as gently as she could manage. "Don't cry. I just need you to tell me what you remember."

The sniffling was almost as loud as the sobbing, and Regina could have sworn she heard a low growl from somewhere deep in the caves. "I walked… I walked through a wall," he hiccuped. "Then there were lights and you were yelling and —"

"Okay," Regina cut him off. This was pointless. If he'd told her a week ago he'd walked through a wall, she would have thought it was just a childish imagination. But magic had come to Storybooke. Magic that the Clerics were using against her. No. It was much more likely that he'd slipped through a spell meant to let someone enter, but not to allow anyone to leave.

"I wanna go home," Roland sniffled, voice trembling like he might melt down again at any moment.

"You and me both," the Evil Queen grumbled, but tried for a smile that he couldn't see in the deep shadows of the tunnels. The smile faded instantly as she could have sworn the temperature dropped several degrees around them without moving an inch. Roland must have felt it too because he reached out, his small hand finding her leg and fingers clutched at the material of her slacks. This was a problem. They'd gone too far in the wrong direction and they'd made too much noise. "Come on," she coaxed as gently as she could so as not to terrify him any more. He let her take hold of his shoulders and turn him to aim back in the direction that they'd come from.

"What's that?" Roland asked as they turned to find a softly glowing green light in the direction that had been pitch black just a moment before.

Regina swore softly, turning him again to see the same light creeping up that corridor as well, smoke rolling in with it. It was coming from every direction now and there was no escaping it. Maleficent was toying with her.

As the glowing smoke clawed at their feet and a bubbling laugh echoed through the tunnels, Roland practically climbed up into Regina's arms. She took him, warning him not to let go even as she felt the spell drag them from one point to another none too gently.

They landed hard, almost as if they'd been spit out the other side. Regina stumbled, her heels not designed for the rough terrain, and both she and Roland yelped as she hit the ground. A giggle echoed through the tunnel and whipped her attention back to the friend she'd made into an enemy years before.

Regina pushed a determined breath out through her nose. Without magic, she might not have a chance in all the worlds against the Mistress of Evil, but the Evil Queen didn't go down without a fight. Roland, smart boy that he was, inched away as Regina pulled herself to her feet. "You're looking far more… human than I would have expected."

"No thanks to you," the former fairy twilled, her blonde eyebrows dancing and her smile deceptive to those who didn't know her. It didn't fade as her blue eyes flickered over to Roland. "Who's the whelp?"

Roland shrank back again and Regina took a step towards Maleficent, drawing the other woman's attention. "He's not important."

That smile only broadened. "Run along, little one."

Regina expected to hear the boy take off, his one chance at freedom from the monster even a child should have been able to sense right in front of him to take. Though, he hadn't run from her when he'd stumbled across her. Perhaps he wasn't so clever after all. Or perhaps just very little sense, she decided as she risked a glance back to see Roland plastering what he probably thought was a brave expression on his little face and he planted his feet. "Don't hurt her! She's my friend."

"Dear child, Regina is no one's friend."

"She's gonna help me find my papa," he argued in such an earnest little tone that Regina almost snorted a laugh.

Maleficent gave a small hum that rang of insincere amusement as she lifted a hand. Green smoke billowed up, coming to her call. "I'll give you a life lesson, little one," she said to Roland, though her blue eyes turned sharply back towards Regina. "The Evil Queen was never going to help you. She's only ever in it for herself." And with a twitch of her hand, she released the magic, aiming it directly at the woman in question.

Life was a funny thing. As a little girl, Snow wouldn't have dreamed that she'd go on so many adventures. Running for her life from the woman that had saved it once, learning to steal and fight and survive, falling in love…. She certainly wouldn't have been able to predict that the love of her life and she would have to put their newborn daughter into a magical cupboard to give her her best chance to survive a dark curse that was crashing down over them. She remembered holding onto Charming's far-too-still body, blood soaking his shirt, and all she had had was hope. Hope that Emma would save them twenty-eight years later. Hope that she would see them again. Hope that they could be a family.

Emma had come back for them, though far too early. The Blue Fairy wasn't able to give her an answer as to why the savior had come long before she was supposed to be there, other than the fact that she'd followed Rumplestiltskin's son to Storybrooke. They'd met out there in a world utterly foreign to those living in the cursed down, but the lead fairy had had few details to offer on why the Dark One's predictions had been off. She did, at least, seem to have at least some knowledge as to what had happened to get them to this point, and Snow had spent far longer than she'd meant to peppering her with questions on what had happened and what Magnus wanted with her daughter.

"I knew there was something special about her," Snow told her family's patron fairy as they made their way down to the lake where David waited for his and Mary Margaret's morning walk before she went to the classroom for the day. "Even cursed, I just knew. She's smart and beautiful and brave."

"Yes, she is," Blue said quietly, and Snow tried not to dwell too much on the hint of guilt that lay just beneath the words. "And Magnus will use that. We must gather as many as we can to our side to protect her."

"Why don't you restore the town's memories like you restored mine?"

Blue frowned as they made their way along the path. "I used the last of the memory potion on you. We must be clever in our alliances."

Cursed town or not, alliances were one of Snow's strengths, though her heartfelt encouragement flittered away when she saw the figure by the lake. He looked much like he had that fateful day when they'd all been torn away… more whole, though, and she was grateful for it. Snow's grin tugged so hard at her lips that her cheeks strained. "Charming," she breathed out and sprinted forward.

He turned as she approached, that smile she knew so well gracing his lips, but there was something slightly off in his expression. It wasn't until he greeted her that she remembered. "Mary Margaret, I was starting to think you weren't coming today."

Even with the would-be painful reminder that her love didn't truly know her, Snow found her smile remained. He would. She'd make sure he would. "I wouldn't miss it for anything," she swore, her hands going to either side of his face and pulling him in. Her lips met his and he froze for a moment before sinking into the kiss. Slowly his hands trailed up her arms until they gently cupped her face and for a moment they were one. One heart. One mind. As if Regina had never tore them apart.

Slowly they parted, both panting for breath, but he held her gaze in a way that had always left her giddy. She tried to steady herself as best she could with him looking at her like that. It had worked. She knew it would work. She would always find him.

"I'm so glad that—" he started, but she cut him off. They had to focus. There'd be time for them later.

"Charming, Emma found us. She's okay and she's here, but she needs our help."

"Who's Emma?"

And just like that, the world came crashing down on her. She pulled back, staring at him, and confusion etched deeper into his face with each passing moment. "Mary Margaret…?"

The name was like a swift kick to the gut. "You don't remember me, do you?" She whirled in Blue before Charming - no, David - could answer her. "True Love's Kiss can break any curse! Why didn't it work?"

"Because he doesn't know you," a voice said, whipping Snow and Blue's attentions around a fraction before David's. The Blind Cleric stood between the three and the path to the hospital. He looked infuriatingly smug, leaving Snow to square her shoulders and take a protective step between her unknowing husband and the clear threat that had presented himself. Magnus' lips quirked dangerously. "You should have gone to the Town Square as you were instructed."

Tension was thick in the air and Snow's green eyes narrowed as she prepared herself for whatever would come next. It had been a long while since she'd found herself in a physical battle, and while Mary Margaret's life had been a softer one, she wouldn't let that stop her from protecting the people she loved.

But David wasn't the one that held the cleric's attention. It wasn't even Snow. Those milky white eyes turned to look at Blue, Magnus' head tilting as he watched the fairy carefully. "You were a fool to interfere."

"You've gone too far. That girl is innocent in all of this. I will not allow you to sacrifice -"

He moved so quickly that Snow thought he might have teleported. She didn't have time to react and neither did Blue as Magnus' large hand snapped forward, plunging into the Blue Fairy's chest and dragging her heart from it.

"What -?" David managed from behind her, but Snow couldn't tear her eyes away from the inevitable outcome of the impossible feat playing out in front of her. Blue was ancient and powerful. No human - no matter how much magic he'd drawn to himself - should have been able to pluck her heart from her chest. She didn't think even the Dark One had that kind of power.

Blue turned, her dark eyes locking with Snow's own green. "Run," she whispered as Magnus' grip tightened and the beating red heart was turned to dust.

----

TBC

Notes: Well this chapter gave me a tremendous amount of trouble, mostly on deciding exactly how to approach Rumple's trust issues when it came to letting everyone in on the fact that magic is back in town. I went back and forth more than I'd like to admit, but in the end, I like the idea of him having to bargain with his more emotionally driven curse to allow his logical brain to make that decision.

Next Time: Magnus makes a dangerous discovery.

#Once Upon a Time #OUAT #OUAT fanfiction #Rumplestiltskin #Belle French #Baelfire #Neal Cassidy #Emma Swan #Mary Margaret Blanchard #David Nolan #Regina Mills #Blue Fairy

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prolix-yuy · 2 years ago

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Chapter 5: You and Me After, You and Me Before

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: An admission. A revelation. Truths. A promise.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: T, allusions to sexual acts, Din having lots of FEELINGS. While this chapter is not explicit, the entire work is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Cross-posted on AO3

Both Sides of the Door Masterlist || I Think of You Series Masterlist

Din has to take a few minutes to ease back from the incredible disappointment of being interrupted.

He’s glad he got you to your peak first, the bliss on your face as you smiled back at him like being shone upon by the sun. But that doesn’t help the ache between his own legs as he forces himself to think about gutted Tauntauns and the stench of wet Bantha. Din watches as you sit up, booping the child’s tiny nose and gently scolding him for scaring you, your sleeveless top rumpled and pants hastily rebuttoned. The metal patterning on the floor left indentations on your arms and shoulders that he wants to trace with his fingers.

You deserve a better place for him to pleasure you. Someplace soft, comforting, where you could drift off after. He’ll have to bring something up to the cockpit next time.

The thought lights up his skin as you look over at him and smile, fonder this time. The fact that he lets himself want a next time, not pushing it away like he’s been since you stepped on the Crest (and years longer, if he’s being honest), is a surprise. Not unwelcome, but a jolt after the strained emotions of the day.

The irritation at Karga for his insinuations, the veil of disdain from his alor over your presence, all came to a head when he entered the Marshal’s office and saw you there, reacting to a good-natured prod into your relationship. You must have fielded some questions of your own today, and while he’s been cautious in the past he knows you wouldn’t betray his trust.

He could have used your quiet strength today. Maker knows he wants you, the ebbing throb of his cock a clear indicator, but today it’s only become clearer that he wants you near. Near to him, under his protection, beside him in the moments when his life is difficult. You probably would have told Karga off, something like, “And why is it your business if I prefer beskar between my legs?” Karga would have spat his spotchka, laughed and ordered another round. You’re good like that, personable, funny and disarming in a way Din can never be.

He can almost see the calm in your eyes if you stood before the Armorer. The way you would have answered her questions, the steadfastness and strength you would show, all proving why you were a worthy companion to a Mandalorian. Even when placed by the sweltering heat of the forge with nothing to protect you, you would stand tall and unwavering.

But he couldn’t make you face her. He desired it, wanted to place his hand on your back and level his visor at his alor and tell her how important you were to him, but she wouldn’t believe it. He’d proven himself to be untrustworthy before.

Thinking with your cock again, Din Djarin? We know what happened the last time that happened.

That had been years ago, when Din shirked his duty to run with Ranzar Malk’s team, spending too much time under the sharp teeth and poison of Xi’an and lusting over the blood he spilled. When he finally returned, vibroblade slashes in all of the vulnerable spots between his armor -

Show me the face of the man who’s fucking me, Mandalorian!

- his alor had silently watched him treat his injuries. It wasn’t until he was back in the training room, Paz Vizla laying blows on every half-healed wound, opening them back up like screaming mouths, that she spoke.

“This is the pain of betrayal, Din Djarin. You have dishonored your role as beroya. May this be a lesson that continues to teach.”

He was patched back up, but the damage done was deeper than flesh. The pain of his choice, of abandoning his duty for the thrill of sex and money and rage, settled deeper in his bones than any break could. His alor forgave him, allowing him to continue training and learning and, when the chance to become beroya returned, allowing him to take up the mantle again. He was more loyal to the Creed than ever before, consequence beaten into him.

He needs time, that’s all. Time to bring proof to the covert that you are respectful, honorable, worthy in their eyes. You already are in his.

Shifting beside him, you shuffle to your knees, sighing and looking down at Din.

“I’ll get some food started,” you say, about to get to your feet, but Din wants just a moment longer. So with a boldness of affection he doesn’t often display, he reaches out and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you over in the circle of his embrace. You let yourself be toppled, giggling as your elbow comes down on his cuirass, hand by his shoulder. Din can feel you against his side, soft and warm. Your gaze dances over the helmet to rest on the visor, and it makes his breath catch when your eyes lock with his. Not perfectly, slightly unfocused without his brown ones to stare back, but it’s the most intimate feeling in the world for Din.

“Later?” you whisper in an attempt to be discreet while the child grips at your pant legs. Later is both a hope and a promise, laced with uncertainty between the child and duty. His hands roam your back, coming up to the back of your head to dip it against the helmet. A Keldabe kiss, one of many he’s given you. You press a small one into the helmet’s cheek as you rise, and Din’s lips purse unconsciously, as if he could press them to yours. He has to bite them to give him something to feel.

Later, when all three of you are sitting in the hold, Din startles at a question.

“Cara told me about Sorgan.”

Din tries to breathe through the spike of fear and anxiety that reduces him to a statue. He doesn’t know how to react - why did Cara mention it? How much do you know? How does it make you feel? Before steam can start spouting from under the helmet like a terrible teapot, you speak.

“I think she was trying to be kind, telling me that you had someone you cared about. Like maybe she wanted to reassure me that you were capable of it. Not that I don’t already know,” you say, turning your head down to the child as he fiddles with a wadded up bunch of string he’d been fixated on all evening. “Or she was trying to stir up some drama for the fun of it. You know her best.”

Your lopsided smile lets some air back into his lungs. Din puts down the circuit board in his hands, fearing he’ll snap it in two if he holds it any longer. Instead he places his palms on his thighs, thumbs digging into the dip by his knees to ground himself.

“Cara and I met on Sorgan, and we helped liberate a village of krill farmers,” he says, watching your reaction carefully. You nod, chewing on your lip a little as you wait. Kriff, you’re getting better at anticipating what he needs by the day.

“There was a woman there, Omera. She had a daughter, Winta. They helped care for the child.” Din pauses, the emotion of the memory heavy on his shoulders. “He would have had a good life there, would have been able to be a child, if the Republic wasn’t trailing us. They wouldn’t have been safe if we stayed.”

“And you wouldn’t leave him.”

The truth is more complicated. Din hasn’t found the right moment to tell you about his mission, or the importance the child plays in it. But your assumption is as close to an explanation as today can offer.

“I couldn’t,” he says, and truly believes it. Leaving the child is becoming a harder and harder inevitability to face by the day.

The silence lasts a little longer, both of you testing who will break next. You take the step first.

“Did you want to stay?” you ask, and Din shakes his head.

“I don’t belong in a place like that.” You tilt your head, a mannerism you’re starting to develop from your time with Din.

“That’s not what I asked.” It’s firmer now, and your eyes are sharp. How do you manage to touch what hurts but soothe instead of opening the wound?

“If nothing stood in your way, would you have stayed?”

Din wishes the answer was simple, a yes or a no. There was a time when it did feel like an easy choice. The calm of the village, the soft glances of a strong woman, children to care for and keep safe. It would have been so close to his Creed he could have justified it. But even without the threat looming over the child, the duties of being a Mandalorian, of the Watch, of being beroya, were too great for him to abandon.

“I made some mistakes in my youth, ran with a crew that I shouldn’t have.” Din looks up to your face and sees the silent question. “It was after I met you.” Nodding, you let him continue. “I betrayed the trust of my covert, of my alor, of Karga. All for a fleeting moment of freedom. I paid dearly for it.” The sympathy in your eyes goes no further. Not pitying, just commiserating.

“To stay on Sorgan, I would have had to give up my Creed.” Din lets the silence bleed, knowing that what he says next may hurt you, but you did seem to thrive on truth. “I might have been happy. She might have made me happy. But I made the wrong choice before, and I didn’t have faith in myself to know if staying was right. I don’t know how to give up what I’ve always known, and she would have needed that. She deserved that, done the right way instead of running. And…” Din’s breath is large, expansive as he tries to let out the deepest wound in his heart, infected and festering. “I don’t believe I could have been the good man she thought I was.”

Din rolls his shoulders stiffly, trying to relax under your thoughtful gaze. He wonders if you might try to touch him, but you don’t. You understand him better than most, and your hands on him right now would have been too much. It’s all out now, his greatest mistake and his greatest “what if.” He’s peeled off the bandage in the hope it might heal this time, but he needs you to say something.

“And now?” you finally ask, making Din tilt his helmet up to look at you. “Do you still feel like you aren’t a good man?”

He breathes, letting the cadence of his back rising and falling release the words.

“Every day it seems less likely.”

The answer makes you smile wistfully. “Good.”

Din waits for you to say something else, to ask something of him. A promise, an explanation. He wouldn’t blame you if you needed more. But you release him, turning your attention to the child and unwinding a loop of string from his claws.

You never push, you only hold your hands open for him to give. It makes Din want to give you everything.

“I’m glad you found some peace, Mando.” You break the last stretch of silence as you move about the hold, putting the child into Mando’s arms. The statement makes his head cock, not expecting this reaction. “I always hoped in the time we were apart that you were shown kindness, and care. I’m grateful that there was at least one.” You stretch and move to head towards the ‘fresher. Was it that late already?

“Mesh’la,” Mando calls after you, making you turn and look at him. The Mando’a he knows is less of a language and more a set of monikers, like the technical names for the parts of his blaster. He used it sparingly, the words carrying the most meaning when he saves them. But he can never resist calling you beautiful every chance he gets.

“You’re very different from her,” he says carefully, and you shoot him a crooked smile.

“I wasn’t fishing for comparisons.” You cross your arms with a smirk, leaning against the wall and contemplating your next words carefully. His eyes dance over your half-focused gaze, tapping fingers and contemplative crease of your brow. When your lips part he opens his own to sip in a silent breath. “You came back to me, Mando. Against all odds. That will always mean more to me than anything before.”

Din is dazed into silence and you nod, releasing a soft hum before heading into the ship. He remains, heart aching at your simple acceptance.

He came back to you.

Like a wish tossed into the sea, or a kind act in a cruel world.

He came back to you.

And he will never leave you again.

END || PREVIOUS

NOTES: Thank you all for coming along on another ride with our lovely little space family. We finally have some admissions of feelings! And a few glimpses into why Mando has been so reticent to act on his. But now that all things are more out in the open, there's just one tiny little cockblock still in the way. He's a very adorable one, and it's not his fault per se, but they'll have to figure something out. It's been a joy to share this story with you all, I'm so glad it's still something people are enjoying because I sure as hell enjoy writing it. To many more stories!

The story continues in Episode 9: Soft Fires

#the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian x female reader #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian fic #mando/reader #mando/you #mando/f!reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #i think of you series #prolix fics

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talsiaa · 3 years ago

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Every Great King - Chapter Three (Prince Caspian x Reader)

Chapter Three - The Chase

*not my gif*

Series Summary: You had grown up with Caspian and naturally you were best friends. Completely inseparable for as long as you both could remember, learning with the professor together, attending (rather boring) balls and banquets and running around the castle grounds in the spring and summer. But then Miraz’s own son is born and Caspian’s life is at risk. From here the series follows the plot of Prince Caspian and then The Voyage of the Dawn Treader.

A/N: Me actually posting a chapter to this after abandoning it for like 10 months OOPS. Can’t promise it won’t happen again either but I do hope you’re enjoying the story (as unoriginal as it may be😂)

Posted - 10/04/22

Word Count - 1,723

Series Masterlist II Other Writings

Stress levels were still pretty high as you and Caspian continued your journey through the forest. You had admit though, the scenery was beautiful. Every so often you'd come to a stream, gleaming in the afternoon son; or a large oak tree much like the tree the two Narnians lived in- great branches stretching out to the sun, it's roots protruding from the ground and luscious green leaves swaying in the breeze.

While you appreciated the nature surrounding you, Caspian still sought to cut through the bushes and long patches of grass with his sword (you assumed he was trying to let some frustration out). The silence between you two wasn't exactly uncomfortable, but it was rare for you two not to be rambling about something. It just emphasised the fact things would never be the same for either of you, although you couldn't tell yet whether this was a good thing or a bad.

Along the forty minutes or so you had been walking, small footsteps often came rumpling behind you, or a bush rustled suspiciously. Clearly Caspian had now had enough of the rustling and he stopped abruptly with a large sigh and an eye roll.

"I can hear you." he said after a moment, clearly frustrated. His mood was affecting you too; upon hearing this you also gave out a sigh, biting your lip waiting for Nikabrik and Trufflehunter to reveal themselves. It didn't take long for the two of them to step out from behind a particularly thick tree they had been hiding behind.

Trufflehunter was the first brave enough to speak up, albeit in a very cautious manner. "I just think that we should wait for the Kings and Queens."

Caspian only began walking again, this time more hurried. "Caspian, wait." You attempted to stop him. It didn't work. "Cas!"

"Fine, go then!" Trufflehunter began again, sharing Caspian's frustration now. "See if the others will be as understanding."

Others? This definitely peaked your interest. "Or maybe I'll come with you. I want to see you explain things to the minotaurs." Nikabrik had a particularly nasty smirk on his face as he stared at the young prince, probably imagining the minotaurs tearing him limb from limb.

"Minotaurs?" you gave a nervous laugh. "I thought those were a piece of fiction. Apart of fairy tales to scare children."

Nikabrik now aimed his grim smile at you. It was enough to make anybody want to run away as fast as they could, but you pushed your fears of the Narnian aside and continued to stand tall.

"That's where you'd be wrong. Although I'm sure they do take delight in scaring silly little girls..." Nikabrik stalked towards you threateningly slow. His smile only grew as he spoke. "They're very bad tempered." he finished a low whisper, standing very close to you.

"I wouldn't try and intimidate her if I were you." Caspian was staring daggers as Nikabrik, his jaw tight with stress and rage and betrayal. Nikabrik let out a low growl, sneering and stepping back to stand with Trufflehunter.

"What about Centuars?" you broached. "Do they still exist?" Despite Nikabrik's attempt to scare you, you were mostly in bewilderment that the Narnians stood in numbers you would never have imagined back at the castle. You couldn't help thinking that fi you managed to get the Narnians on your side, you would definitely have the element of surprise over Miraz.

"The Centuars will probably fight on your side but there's no telling what the others will do." Trufflehunter explained softly.

"What about Aslan?" Caspian's demeanour didn't seem to change. He stood tall and his face was all cross and serious - you didn't often witness this side of him but you knew for a fact you much preferred his usual upbeat and playful disposition.

Nikabrik and Trufflehunter shared a small glance, both looking rather confused as to how you both knew so much about Narnia. You were Telmarines, after all, and Narnians were meant to be extinct. It was Nikabrik who dared step towards the Prince, his hand twitching by the dagger he kept looped onto his belt.

"How do you know so much about us?" his menacing stance caused you to jump over to Caspian's side to help diffuse the tension, but before you could Caspian spoke.

"Stories," he explained nonchalantly.

"Perhaps we could continue this conversation whilst walking?" you interjected, noticing just how cold it was now that you didn't have to jog to keep up with Caspian's furious strides. "I'd like to get somewhere to set up camp before dark, it's freezing in this night dress."

"Yes, of course." Caspian gave you an apologetic look, which you waved off in politeness.

Before you could turn to continue wandering the forest, however, Trufflehunter caught Caspian's attention.

"Your father told stories about Narnia?" he asked. You winced at the mention of Caspian's father. He was a good king and most of all a brilliant father to Caspian. There was still a part of Caspian that was empty, still pining after and missing his father (although he would never admit that to anybody).

You saw Caspian's twitch ever so slightly. "No, my professor-" he stopped himself mid explanation, shaking his head and taking a deep breath. "Look, these are not the sort of questions you should be asking." With one final glare at the two Narnians, Caspian grabbed your wrist and started walking away from them.

As you turned your back, you heard Trufflehunter sniffing and a distant rustling you paid no mind to.

"Humans." he whispered. Caspian kept driving forward as you hesitated, sensing something was wrong.

"Him?" came Nikabrik's gruff reply.

"No... Them!" Trufflehunter pointed towards the way the four of you had just come, where a group of Miraz's men were making their way toward you, faster than you would have liked. Your eyes widened in fear, as arrows started flying past and hitting trees. Caspian wasted no time in making sure you were both running as fast as you could, dodging arrows as best you could on the way.

Just as you were gaining momentum came a yelp of pain from behind you. Trufflehunter had been hit.

"No!" you shouted, darting back up to where he lay a few metres behind you, Caspian trying to stop you but failing. Trufflehunter reached out to give you the horn as you halted to the ground next to him.

"Take it, go!" you managed to take the horn from him but stood in fright, trying to decide whether it was selfish to just leave the creature to die after he had saved your life (kind of) earlier on. "It's more important than I am!"

"Y/N, lets go! They're catching up!" you heard Caspian shout, making you look up to see that the soldiers were indeed very close now. You didn't want to think about what would happen to you if you were caught. Picking Trufflehunter up, you were about to keep running when the soldiers started yelping and falling to the ground. With no sign of anybody else here, you assumed it was either some Narnian magic or that the long day really had you going insane. You continued to run as fast as you could back to Caspian and Nikabrik, the latter taking Trufflehunter from over your shoulder and carried on running.

A rustling from the ferns caught yours and Caspian's attention. Too stunned to run at this point, you both started taking small and shaky steps backwards, until Caspian was knocked off of his feet with a grunt.

"Choose your last words carefully, Telmarine!" the scene in front of you caused a shocked gasp to leave your lips. On top of Caspian stood a mouse, pointing a tiny sword at the Prince's neck.

"You are a mouse." Caspian was obviously stunned too. The mouse seemed disappointed with this response and stood up a fraction taller.

"I was hoping for something a little more original..." the mouse waved his sword at Caspian again. "Come on, pick up your sword."

"Uh, no thanks." Caspian replied.

"Pick it up! I will not fight an unarmed man!" At this point you were just hoping that the mouse hadn't noticed your presence.

"Which is why I will live longer if I do not choose to cross blades with you, noble mouse." Caspian's tactic of flattery didn't seem to work. The mouse only narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to Caspian's face.

"I said I wouldn't fight you! I did not say I would let you live!"

Just in time, Nikabrik and Trufflehunter made their way back to you (on the request of Trufflehunter you assumed - you couldn't see Nikabrik caring whether you lived or died).

"Reepicheep, stay your blade!" Trufflehunter yelled at the mouse, who looked incredibly annoyed with the interruption.

"I trust you have a good reason for this untimely interruption?" Reepicheep finally dropped his blade, but that did not make him seem less threatening after watching his take down a squad of Telmarine soldiers, as well as Caspian, with ease.

"He's the one who blew the horn!" Trufflehunter explained.

"Then let him bring it forward." a calm, deep voice came from in between the trees, startling you. What you turned around to see was even more startling - four centaurs making their way towards you.

Reepicheep took this as his queue to stand down completely, and clambered off of Caspian. Although your legs were a bit shaky, you managed to step over to Caspian and grab his hand to help him off of the floor. When he stood, neither of you let go of the other's hand. Caspian tried to steady his breathing, presenting the horn to the centaurs with a furrowed brow.

You were scared stiff, but you couldn't deny how beautiful the centaurs were. The one who spoke was stood at the front of the group and each of them had long hair which flowed down their shoulders, tied in ringlets or small plaits. You couldn't stop looking at them. You hadn’t seen anything more beautiful in your whole life.

Well, maybe one thing but we’ll discuss that later.

Caspian seemed to notice you staring at them, dropping your hand.

The centaurs took a look at the horn and the leader spoke again. “This is the reason we are gathered.”

#prince caspian #prince caspian x reader #prince caspian x you #fluff #female pronouns #narnia #chronicles of narnia #lucy pevensie #susan pevensie #peter pevensie #edmund pevensie #romance #slow burn #friens to lovers #series fic #fanfiction

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wingsofhcpe · 3 years ago

Note

oh and this one because i love pain: having to watch your lover die, as you’re restrained by the antagonist, unable to fight your way out of their grip, yet your eyes are glued on your lover’s

(@sparklingrainbowdragon you asked for this too so, tagging you here!)

I am very sorry in advance for this. Read below the cut!

"Sir. We have captured some of the deserters."

Ivan turned around to look at Galina, his second-in-command, as she walked into the strategy room. She looked rumpled, as if it's taken a lot out of her to capture the rogue Grisha. Possibly, Ivan thought with satisfaction, that meant her squad had caught a lot of them.

"How many?" He asked, and raised an eyebrow when he saw her shift her weight from one foot to the other. "Well?"

"Just... Just two of them, sir." Her heartbeat spiked up dangerously, and Ivan wondered if she was afraid he would reprimand her for not bringing in more captives.

"Well then." He said strictly, but not as cold as he would have usually been. "That's still something worth reporting to the General."

"Sir..." Galina swallowed. "Sir, one of then is- we- we have captured Fedyor Kaminsky."

Ivan stood very, very still. For a moment, he thought it was Galina's heart pounding against her chest like a caged bird trying to be freed; then he slowly realised, the sound of blood rushing in his ears, was his own.

He stalked past Galina and was out of the tent before he could check himself. Another of his Grisha threw a pitying glance at him, but Ivan hardly registered it. It didn't matter. None of it mattered.

Fedyor had been thrown into one of the Fabrikator-enforced cages, with a set of sturdy, iron cuffs clamped around his wrists. He sat slumped next to the second captive Grisha (an unconscious young girl who Ivan didn't recognise), but when he picked up Ivan's heartbeat his head shot up like a deer caught in the firelight. Those warm, brown eyes widened impossibly, and to Ivan's shock, he smiled.

"Vanya!" He said, his voice as soft and warm and loving as it had always been. Ivan nearly threw himself on the metal bars, his hand reaching through the gaps as if to reach Fedyor.

There was no need for words; their hearts did the talking. Besides, there wasn't anything they could have said. Not in this situation.

Fedyor didn't move, but he leaned closer to the bars. Belatedly, Ivan realised his right leg was bent in a strange angle underneath him. He cursed under his breath.

"Who did this to you?" He hissed, a spark of his old fierce protectiveness bubbling to the surface. Fedyor shrugged.

"One of the oprichniki decided I wasn't being cooperative enough while we were being transported here."

Of course he hadn't been. Ivan would have been proud of him had it not ended like that. He made a mental note of finding the oprichnik in question and tanning their arse so hard they wouldn't be able to sit for days.

"Does it hurt?" Ivan askes uselessly.

"A bit." The words were breathed out softly; Fedyor was good at masking his pain, but Ivan knew him too well. He knew he was in agony. He longed to lay his hand on Fedyor's knee, ease his pain, call a healer. But... He couldn't. And Fedyor wouldn't want his pity.

Ivan blinked the sudden wetness away and shifted his attention at the other Grisha. "And she?"

"Her name is Mariya." Fedyor said fondly, and for a moment Ivan felt a pang of jealousy. Then he realised Fedyor's heart beat for her the same way it had done for Nina. Protective, a mentor. His shoulders relaxed against his will.

"She was knocked unconscious by one of the Heartrenders. But she'll be okay, I think. Until..."

'Until we're sentenced to death and executed for high treason.' Ivan knew he would have to be the one to pass the sentence. The General wasn't going to let him off the hook for sentimentalities.

"Saints, Fedya." Ivan sat on the ground so he could be at level with the other man. "Why didn't you leave? Why didn't you go to Ketterdam or something?"

"I'm sorry, Vanya." Fedyor said softly, and sounded like he meant it. "I couldn't leave Alina. I couldn't leave Ravka to Kirigan's mercy."

Not the General's. Whatever respect Fedyor had once held for that man, had vanished into thin air. The worst was, Ivan found that he couldn't blame him.

"You should have left." Was all he said, uselessly. It didn't matter anymore. His husband was going to die. And he would be the cause of it.

Fedyor shifted awkwardly as if trying to pass one of his hands through the bars. It was hard with the cuffs on, but in the end he managed to slip his fingers out, towards Ivan's. Ivan quickly held his hand out to hold them.

"It's alright, Vanyusha." Fedyor whispered as their heads leaned close to each other. "We both made a choice. I'm glad to die for it."

"I'm not!" Ivan blurted. "Saints, I don't want to lose you!"

He already had, in a sense. But at least he'd known Fedyor was out there, alive, possibly happy. This... This was different. Permanent.

"I love you." Fedyor replied simply, his eyes twinkling in the twilight. "You know that, yeah?"

"Of course. And I love you too. More- More than anything else, Fedyenka." Ivan said softly. He didn't say more; he knew he wouldn't be able to keep his voice steady.

"Can you stay?" Fedyor asked. "If only for a little while. My leg hurts."

The simple admittance broke Ivan, along with the knowledge he couldn't do anything to help. He let out a choked sob, gripping Fedyor's cuffed hand tighter.

"I will. I promise I will."

---

"Mariya Abramova Svetaeva, and Fedyor Alexeivitch Kaminsky, you are hereby sentenced to death for the crime of high treason against the Second Army, the Grisha, and Ravka as a whole."

Kirigan's voice echoed like the drop of a hammer in the silence of the evening, that was only interrupted by Mariya's muffled whimpers as she cried. Fedyor spoke softly to her, trying to comfort her.

"Silence." The oprichnik that held him hissed, and punctuated the order with a swift kick on the Grisha's broken leg. Fedyor couldn't swallow back a short cry of pain as he nearly crumpled to the ground, and Ivan felt hot rage building up inside of him.

"Soldier." He snapped. "You will not attempt to harm the prisoners before the passing of the sentence."

The oprichnik muttered something about lovesickness and lack of conviction, but Ivan elected to ignore it. Kirigan cleared his throat to restore order.

"The sentence will be carried out immediately."

He announced. Ivan felt his stomach drop to his shoes- no, surely they'd have more time, surely he could have another moment with Fedyor-

"Aleksandra," Kirigan turned to the lead Inferni "build a pyre in the middle of the camp."

For a second, Ivan wasn't sure what the General had meant. Then it dawned on him, and he swore he could feel the ground crumpling from under his feet.

"Sir, that's not-"

"An order is an order, Ivan. They do not deserve a Grisha death. Rather, they will be treated to a druskëlle sentence."

Mariya must have finally realised what was happening, because she let out a heartbreaking wail and strained against the guard that held her.

"No!" She screamed. "No, please, sir I repent, I repent-"

The General ignored her and turned around. "Ivan, I trust you will carry out what needs to be done. It's what's best for Ravka, and for the Grisha. No sentimentalities."

Ivan didn't know what the feeling building up within him was; he had never felt anything like it. Too cold to be called rage, too powerful to be called fear. All he could see was Fedyor chained to a wooden pole, screaming and crying for mercy as the flames consumed him. Looking at him, those brown eyes filled with agony.

Something inside Ivan broke.

Distantly, he heard himself roaring as he hurled himself against Kirigan's back, hands wrapping around the other man's neck. Grisha powers be damned, Ivan was going to kill the bastard with his own two hands-

But Kirigan flipped him around easily, and suddenly his back was pressed against the other man's chest, his hands held painfully behind him. He couldn't move a finger.

"Careful, Ivan." The General hissed in his ear. "Or you will share your lover's fate."

"I'd rather burn than side with someone who would kill us like the druskëlle!" Ivan snapped, straining against Kirigan's grip. "You are a disgrace to the Grisha. To think I believed in you-"

"I am only doing what is best for all of us. Our personal feelings don't matter." Kirigan's voice was cold, detached. As if he had killed whatever warmth remained inside him long ago. He probably had.

"Vladimir." He said to the guard that held Fedyor. "Kill him now."

"No!" Ivan shouted. "No- Fedya, Fedyenka- no!"

Fedyor's eyes met his. Impossibly, he smiled; that damned, irresistible smile that Ivan had fallen for the first time he'd ever seen it.

"It's alright, Vanya." He said easily as the oprichnik fumbled for his dagger. "I'll wait for you, yes? We'll see each other again."

He sounded so calm, as if he was just leaving on a long mission rather than being executed. Ivan sobbed, sagging against Kirigan's grip.

"Vanya-" Fedyor grunted as the oprichnik pulled him back, the cold steel of an ornate dagger pressing against his throat. "Look at me, my love. Look at me."

Ivan forced himself to look. The knowledge that this would be the last time he heard Fedyor's voice, saw him alive and well and smiling, shattered him. But Fedyor kept smiling, his eyes filled with love and tears.

"Fedyor." Ivan whispered. Fedyor closed his eyes.

A moment later, the dagger sliced his throat, and blood painted the ground in front of him red.

#liaduval #my writing #answered #shadow and bone #heartrender husbands #fivan #fedyor x ivan #fedyor kaminsky #ivan no last name #i am So sorry

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ditttiii · 4 years ago

Text

Brothers Conflict || 02.

Thrust into an already established family, you struggle to find your footing while dodging the advances of seven, incredibly good looking stepbrothers.

Your father marrying, and you suddenly having to live under the same roof with seven step brothers was a royal mess or so you had thought, Because them falling in love with you was so much worse. Or was it?

◈ Genre: Romance, Fluff, Humour, Smut and maybe a little angst. (PG-18) (step brother AU) (They are all adopted, I do NOT support incest, this work is inspired by the popular anime/manga Brothers Conflict)

◈ Pairings: OT7 x Reader (reverse harem)

◈ CHAPTER TWO

WC: 3124

Warnings: Curse Words (sfw)

Masterlist

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There needs to be a limit, you think. A threshold level to how bad a day can go before it ends, or maybe you faint and are left craning into nothingness. Just something to tell you that this is as bad as it can possibly get for you.

You hear Seokjins' concerned voice get drowned by the much louder voice of your best friend, but you don't respond. You realise that you should get up, reassure everyone that you are okay, but you are starting to wonder if you can even salvage the day anymore.

The limit to how embarrassed I can be has hit a new high today.

Groaning and cursing every single god up there, you finally raise your face from the floor, bringing your hand up to scratch your cheeks and rub your eyes, as you purposefully avoid all the gazes that you can feel trained on you.

Wincing you scratch at the burn you feel on your chin from where your face had hit the carpet. The fall could have been a lot worse, but the rug had saved you from the worst of the burnt.

Saved, everything but your dignity that is.

"I am fine," You reassure everybody without looking at anybody; before you turn to Sunmi and squeeze her hand in silent reassurance. Her concerned eyes stay trained on your hunched figure, but at your small smile, she nods, sending a small worried smile back.

Sunmi has been your best friend since middle school. Your friendship blossomed the day she punched another girl in the school washroom for you, the girl; a bully was making fun of you for being a late bloomer, when Sunmi, your schools' resident queen-bee, swooped in like a raging goddess in all her angry glory and gave the girl a black eye.

You still think back to that day with fondness and a slight sense of wariness. Your petite, barbie doll of a best friend could pack quite the punch. It was a reassuring yet scary skill of hers.

Snapped out of your thoughts at the feel of a hand on your shoulder, you look up to see Seokjins’ concerned eyes peering into yours, and exhale out a heavy breath.

Okay, now it can't get any worse.

Maybe you shouldn't feel as reassured as you do with that thought, but you do. The realisation that you have already hit rock bottom when it comes to first impressions is, funnily enough, liberating to you.

At least now, I don't have to worry about if the pitch of my 'hello' is right or not.

Evidently, such frivolous solicitude was no longer a concern of yours. You have risen to higher grounds, where your first impression bar now ranges from psycho to batshit crazy.

Yep, that sounds about right.

A cough snaps you out of your thoughts, and you quickly rise to your feet, with a little help from Sunmi. In your peripheral vision, you see Seokjin’s hands hover uselessly in the air as he stops himself from reaching out to you. Clearly, your earlier responses to his touch had left an impression on him, one that was probably not all that great, you realise.

Wincing at both your embarrassment and the slight sting you feel, you finally swivel your gaze away from the floor and to the six men ahead of you, Seokjin still hovering worriedly by your side, like a concerned mother hen.

If you had any dignity left, you'd have laughed, but as it is—you are probably bordering on crazy, and you don't want to push it.

Not today.

"Umm," You start as your eyes lock with that of one of the brothers who is looking at you with concerned filled eyes and you quickly break your gaze away. Focusing at a point on the floor somewhere by his feet, you bow low and mumble out an "Annyeonghaseyo!"

The words feel foreign on your tongue, even though your best friend is Korean. While you don't live in Korea and aren't Korean, your new extended family is. You know that they know English and originally you had no plans of speaking Korean. But nerves shot, and performance pressure high, the slightly accented greeting tumbled out before you even fully realised what you were saying.

An awkward silence stretches on for a second too long, before the man whose feet you are drilling holes into with your gaze, is bowing and introducing himself.

"Ah, Annyeonghaseyo! I am Kim Namjoon, the fourth oldest brother or well the middle one," Here he flashes you a quick close-lipped smile, and your eyes automatically stray to his dimples.

‘Pretty’

While your eyes are still locked onto his dimples, utterly fascinated by their definition, he continues, "We have been waiting for you, it's a pleasure, to finally meet you Y/N-ssi!" His smile widens as he finishes his greeting, and you want to reply, but your eyes are, again, focused onto his dimples.

'So pretty.'

It's when Sunmi pinches your side subtly that you clear your thoughts, moving your gaze away as you smile back—a soft, genuine curl of your lips.

"Um, sorry I'm late, there was some traffic," Here you wave your hand in the air aimlessly before you realise what you are doing and force it down, biting your lip. "This is my best friend Sunmi, and um it's really nice, to finally be able to meet you all too!" You finish lamely. Your introduction, a mess of stutters and random flailing limbs, leaves your face feeling hotter by the second.

"Finally! We have been waiting to meet our cute little yeodongsaengie all day! I am Jung Hoseok, the third oldest and welcome to the family Y/n-ah!" Greets Hoseok, a bright megawatt smile overtaking his face, as he swoops in and gathers you in a hug. This time though you are ready and without a seconds delay, your hands wrap around Hoseok's back, as you awkwardly pat, unsure of his boundaries.

Hoseok though has no such concern, as his strong, warm hands wrap affectionately around your shoulders, pulling you closer and giving you a proper bear hug. Somehow it doesn't come as a surprise to you that Hoseok would be affectionate, something about his bright smile and sunny disposition had you feeling more comforted and reassured than awkward.

Surrounded by your now brother's warmth, you melt in his arms and for once enjoy the feeling of belonging in someone else's hold except Sunmis’.

"Did you have any problems coming here? I knew one of us should have come to pick you up instead." Hoseok continues, his eyes soft and concerned as they rake over you, keeping you at arm's length, as he checks you for any injuries, and a laugh almost slips out of you at his over the top concern.

"I am fine Hoseok ss—" You pause, hesitant to continue as you think of what you should address him as before you try again, "Hoseok-oppa?"

Your voice comes out soft, questioning and a little hesitant as you look up at Hoseok to see his reaction, but he's grinning. His smile somehow even brighter than it had been before, and then he's pulling you into another hug.

His arms wrapping around your shoulders and softly rocking you from side to side as he coos, "Aish, call me Hobi-oppa, Y/n-ah! That's what all the dongsaengies call me!"

You giggle as your limited Korean knowledge kicks in and you realise he's talking about his younger brothers. A groan echoed from behind him and in response a laugh booms out of Hoseok, as he finally loosens his hold.

Wrapping his arm around your shoulders, he turns to Sunmi, and again introduces himself, Sunmi doing the same.

You watch the interaction with an unfamiliar almost, warm, feeling in your chest. Usually, it would be you introducing yourself to Sunmis' family at Christmas or family vacations for which you'd tag along; and your father was never really home enough to ever meet Sunmi.

So, to finally have someone call you family in front of your best friend, was a simple but strangely comforting thing, and you grin, feeling rapidly more at ease in your brothers embrace.

"Aish Hob-ah! Stop hogging our little yeodongsaeng, will you?" Jin jokingly reprimands, and you chuckle, your grip around Hoseok tightening as you lean into his side.

"Well, it's only fitting; I am going to be her favourite oppa, after all!" He jokes as his head tilts to look at you and he winks. His soft black hair slips low over his forehead, as his shimmery dark eyes sparkle from in between the gaps of his strands. And you smile softly, shaking your head fondly at his antics before you extract yourself from his embrace and move to introduce yourself to the rest of your stepbrothers.

"Min Yoongi, second oldest, Welcome to the family Y/n." You smile and nod, a small 'Thank you oppa,' slipping out as you shake Yoongi's hand. His palm is soft, and a little cold against yours, and your smile widens at the small grin he gives you, blonde locks messy and rumpled as he runs his hand through them.

Turning to look at the other three men in the room, you smile and bow as you greet them too. Your eyes rise when one of them steps forward, bowing to you, his cotton candy pink hair catching the light of the room and shining bright. But what gets your attention is his smile. Full lips curled into quite possibly the sweetest smile you have ever seen in your life, as his eyes turn into two crescent moons.

"Nice to finally meet you, little sister, I am Park Jimin the hyung of the maknaes'" He winks before continuing, "and the fifth oldest one. We have been waiting to meet you for a while now. Glad to have you be a part of our not so little family! It might be a bit overwhelming at times, but know that we are all delighted to have you here." He grins, and you let out a chuckle yourself, comforted and appreciative of his efforts at trying to make you feel more at ease.

"Thank you for welcoming me!I..uh am not the best at first impressions, but I promise I am not always such a clutz." You quip back and watch surprised, as Jimin throws his head back, eyes crinkling into those crescent moons again, as a laugh tumbles out of him. His hands rest on his chest, as he hunches over laughing and you smile, your gaze travelling to his palms and a snort slipping out when you realise his hands much like the rest of him are exceptionally pretty and delicate.

You aren't usually very self-conscious, but surrounded by so many ridiculously attractive people, the insecurity was starting to creep in.

Blessed men.

Shifting your gaze to the last two brothers, you smile, bowing a little as you greet them, but when only silence greets you back, your raise your head, eyes furrowed as you look up to see the last two of your seven step brothers looking at you with disinterest and maybe the slightest bit disdain?

A little more hesitant now, you smile at them again, but receive back even more silence.

An awkward silence stretches on for a while, as you take in their appearance. You already know the names of the youngest two, had painstakingly learned then a week ago when your father had informed you that you'd have to move in with your extended family.

Kim Taehyung, the one with crystal-like cerulean eyes and platinum blonde hair, that was almost silver. Long, messy strands that reached low and covered almost his entire eyes. His face so perfectly chiselled, it was like the gods personally took their time sculpting it, not a single flaw or blemish on his pale, smooth skin.

In any other situation, you'd have gaped and taken your time appreciating the fineness that was his face, but since those crystal blue eyes of his were glaring angry holes into your forehead, you decide not to.

Next time.

Snapping your eyes away from Taehyung; your gaze falls onto the last brother, Jeon Jungkook, the youngest in the family, at least before you came along.

For someone who was only a year older than you, his build was impressively large. Even from under the oversized loose tee he was wearing; you could see his broad shoulders. The t-shirt hugged his pectoral muscles before it loosened over the abbs. Jungkooks, from what you could only assume, abdomen was coiled and defined under the loose shirt he was wearing.

After a few more seconds of awkward silence during which you see Jimin hiss and glare at the duo from the side, you snap back to your senses. Clearing your throat, you twist onto your heels as you look back at Jimin, who stops mid hiss when your eyes catch his before he pushes his signature bright smile your way.

The smile you give him is a little shaky, your awkwardness from before coming back in full force, in response to the two youngest giving you the cold shoulder.

You aren't surprised though; you were expecting some sort of resistance. When your father had pretty much ordered you to move into your new 'mothers' house, you were pretty pissed too. You had then thrown a tantrum, screaming and crying about how unfair he was being. That even as your father, he had no right to uproot your life like that, but no matter what you said he didn't budge.

His decision was final, and so cursing and screaming, a week later here you are, trying your best to be the ideal sister your father expects you to be, as you attempt to accept these seven strangers as your family.

'Life just doesn't give me a break, does it?' You think wryly, letting out a soft sigh when you feel the glares against the sides of your face darken.

Okay then, act like a bunch of pouty little brats, see if I care.

Rolling your eyes at the immaturity, your two older brothers were currently showcasing, you move back to Sunmi who was now talking to Namjoon.

"Your boxes were delivered a few hours ago, we've moved them all up to your room, but we haven't unpacked any. Would you like help with the unpacking? I have to leave for court now, but a few of us are free today, and we'd be more than happy to help." Namjoon offers, his dimpled smile again on full display, and if you were any more juvenile, you'd have called it a personal attack.

Pretty 2x.

Feeling the glares at your back not letting up, you just shake your head. You have a feeling Namjoon is talking about the two overgrown babies who are currently wishing death upon you, but you'd rather have the boxes fall and slowly suffocate you to your demise than have them help.

"It's fine; I can do it. Thank you for sending the boxes up to my room though!" You reply, and Namjoon just ruffles your hair in response. Squealing you try to move away from his reach and groan, fixing your now rats nest of hair.

Chuckling at your apparently hilarious antics Namjoon nods and calls Jimin over, asking him to escort you and Sunmi to your room. You figure since it's still early on in the day, most of them have their jobs to attend to, and will probably take their time to socialise with you later.

You don't mind, the more time you have to get your shit together, the better.

Waving goodbye to Namjoon and everybody else, You, Sunmi and Jimin make your way to the stairs. Why you can't just use the elevator like before, you don't know, but considering it has been less than an hour since you have joined your new family, you don't bother complaining.

Too soon.

Much like downstairs, the interior of the floor above was simplistic. Metallic, with lots of glassed walls and plenty of potted plants.

'Someone in this family is obsessed with plants.' You think amused as your gaze travels to all the different types of plants around you. Some of them, you think, look too green and fancy to be real.

The marble staircase is wide and curved, and once you reach the end, you turn back to look down and raise a brow, impressed, at how high the floor was.

Fancy indeed.

"This floor is where most of the rooms are, only Namjoon-hyung and Yoongi-hyung live on the floor below," Jimin explains, as he leads you to where you assume your room is.

Passing by different doors on your way, you wonder whose room is which. You'll figure it out later you know, but you just hope none of the younger brothers are near you.

'Except Jimin, he's nice.' You decide as you follow his lean figure.

Pink, a colour you think would look absurd or emo on anyone else, looks bright somehow fitting, on your brother's head, and you watch entranced as his soft silky strands bounce with every step he takes.

'What is with these people and their genetics?'

It's that thought that leads you to an epiphany. You almost stop in your tracks but stumble forward when Sunmi nudges you from behind.

Earlier you were too nervous and wired, terrified of somehow messing up and offending your entire new family and so you hadn't given it much thought. But thinking back, you realise there was something weird about how they all introduced themselves.

Min, Jung, Jeon.

Their last names were different. You don't understand how you hadn't noticed it before when you had learned all their names, but you blame your anger and stupidity for the oversight.

'Kim Young-Soon', your step-mother, and the woman you currently hated with all of your being.

However, what you hadn't realised before but now do was how only Seokjin, Namjoon, and Taehyung, had the same last name, 'Kim' as their mother.

'What the heck is up with this family?'

More confused than anything else by your realisation, you continue to follow Jimin blindly. His voice fading into the background, as your eyes track his movements, the way his full lips curl when he smiled, and your suspicion only grows.

There was something your new family wasn’t telling you, and you were going to find out just what it was.

At least now I have something to do besides stressing out over suddenly having seven brothers, two of whom would set me on fire if given a chance.

Nodding, you decide you are going to have to do some interrogation tonight.

A/N: If you like my work, leave me your feedback, even if its just a single word, it leaves me feeling immensely happy.

I updated in less than a week! Heh, clearly my stir craziness is achieving new heights. Oh well, more content for y’all so yeeehawww 🥴

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tessiete · 4 years ago

Note

For the Spotify fanfic ficlet: 12 for the Kenobi-Kryze fam? 🥺

@lightasthesun so here’s the deal. I STRUGGLED with this. Because I wanted to give you happy, fun, fluffy times, and there are some real bangers on my Wrapped. I mean, relative bangers.

But you picked probably the most Obitine-angst appropriate song ever, and I was like......oh, no. I can’t - I can’t do that to them.

So, after several days of thinking about it, we came up with this. It’s...I refuse to call it angst, bc everyone is alive, and well. It’s just like, some family fun times. Thanks, especially to the Obitine discord, and @duchess-of-mandalore @mg024 and Finn!

And anyway, I hope you love it! Thank you so much for the challenge! <3

Prompt: The Chain (Ingrid Michaelson)

THE CHAIN

The sky over Capital City is grey, and tremulous when they arrive on Coruscant. A natural storm had surged over the breakers of the planet’s ancient atmo regulators to sound its rage and fury out above the city. It’s rare, but not unheard of, and though some might take it as an ill omen, Satine thinks it a fair reflection of the twisting winds within her breast. Rain falls in great, heavy drops, lashing its grief across the transparisteel viewports as they break through the clouds. Thunder cracks, righteous and defiant. Lightning fractures the plate of the sky, reaching out with jealous fingers to touch the earth. Korkie has slept through it all, but Satine doesn’t want to miss any moment more than she must.

They hit the pad with the sudden jolt of gravity reasserting itself, the locking clamps securing them in place. She feels each shudder of the ship echoing in her bones, the soft satyn of her simple travelling gown like water over her skin. Every contrast feels sharp, and malicious. She takes Korkie’s small hand in her larger one, and together they wait for the ramp to lower, releasing them into the wilds outside.

And they are met.

Across the platform, standing silent in the downpour, is Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Though her vision blurs, and renders his face unreadable, she can see the straight line of his shoulders, the proud tilt of his chin, and the defiant stance of his feet spread wide. His hands are hidden in the fold of his cloak, and at his back are Masters Windu and Jinn.

At Satine’s back is the black maw of the ship, and the wind whistling through it. Korkie laughs, and she looks away from the Jedi to see her son, hands out, catching rain.

“It’s wet! Belli, look!” he says, showing her his hand, shining in the grey light. “The sky is crying!”

Satine feels the rain coursing over her own face, and smiles in recognition of his delight.

“It is,” she says. “Happy tears, of course. Coruscant is glad to meet you, kih'kairkiyc.”

He grins at her, and she squeezes his hand, and together they cross the narrow bridge from the ship’s dock to the reception platform where they are met by Obi-Wan. He steps forward, and bows, deep, and formal.

“Duchess,” he says. His voice does not waver, but lies flat, and orderly in the space between them.

He is much the same as she remembers, though his hair is longer, and his braid is cut. A beard has grown in, at long last, though she does not like how it covers his mouth, and hides half his face, and she longs to reach out and wipe it away so she might be able to read him again, like she used to. But there is more than an arm’s length between them, so instead, she nods her head in acknowledgement.

“Knight Kenobi,” she says, like glass, clean and showing nothing of itself.

Korkie tugs at her hand, and she pulls him forward to introduce him next. His fingers linger at the tips of hers as she lets him go. He takes a step. He takes a breath, and just as they’d practiced, he bows with his hands clasped before him, until his back is level with the floor.

“How do you do, Knight Kenobi?” Then, in succession, “Master Windu. Master Jinn.”

The three Jedi return the gesture. Master Windu is tense, and wary of her, she can tell, still unconvinced of the wisdom in this. Obi-Wan’s eyes are fixed on her, but Qui-Gon Jinn smiles at the boy, and Korkie stumbles back until he falls against his mother’s stomach, his hand reaching out to fist in the fabric of her gown to steady himself.

“Hello Korkie,” the old Jedi greets. His voice is soft, like birdwatchers in Keldabe before. “It’s good to finally meet you.”

Obi-Wan is pulled from his study of the past by this reminder of their present company. His hands drop, and he shifts, leaning towards her, his head ducked and uncertain.

“I apologise for the weather,” he says. “I would have - if there had been any indication of inclemence such as this, I would have suggested somewhere with a roof.”

“Of course,” Satine says, too quickly. Then, bridling herself, she continues. “Coruscant is usually such a civilised, and well-behaved planet, it could not have been foreseen.”

There is the promise of forgiveness at the end of her declaration, which Obi-Wan accepts with relief, and they smile at each other. It is brief, and carried more in their eyes, than in their mouths or hands, but it is there nonetheless.

“And you, Master Korkie,” says Qui-Gon, with a smirk of his own. “Are you more civilised, and well-behaved than you appear at first glance?”

He gestures to Korkies rumpled tunic, and mussed hair which sticks up in wild tussocks like knots of grass.

“Someone was rather exhausted by our journey,” says Satine, fondly. “He fell asleep just past Corsin.”

“It was rather a long flight,” says Korkie, in his own defence. “And I don’t much like flying. Lightspeed always feels funny.”

At this, Qui-Gon kneels to meet Korkie on his level, and speaks as if he is confessing some great secret.

“Do you know,” he says, “That Knight Kenobi also dislikes flying.”

Korkie throws a wondering glance at Obi-Wan, who shifts beneath the scrutiny.

“Truly?” he asks Qui-Gon.

The Jedi nods. “Yes, truly. Only he stays awake the whole time.”

“Why?”

“I think in order to complain,” says Qui-Gon. “He needs to be sure that I am equally as miserable as he is, otherwise he feels lonely for company. But it does make for a very long trip, from my point of view.”

“That’s silly, Knight Kenobi,” declares Korkie. He turns to address Obi-Wan directly, and though he speaks critically, his brow is lifted, and his eyes wide in an earnest desire to ease the knight’s discomfort. “It’s much better if you sleep,” he says, with all the wisdom of a moment. “The time goes by much faster.”

Obi-Wan is forced to accept his master’s censure with grace as to spare the gentle feelings of an innocent child, so he smiles, and bows to acknowledge the boy.

“As you say, Master Kryze. You are probably right.”

“I know I am,” Korkie says. “Even though I do look a little wild in the end. But I feel tidy. So I suppose it’s just a matter of which part of me you look at.”

With a rumble that starts deep in his belly, then tumbles out like thunder, Qui-Gon Jinn laughs.

“A man after my own heart,” he says, giving Korkie a little clap on the shoulder. “I foresee you will become a great Jedi, Kiorkicek Kryze.”

“Sorry to interrupt, Duchess, Obi-Wan,” says Master Windu, stepping between the parties, “But as this rain doesn’t look to be letting up any time soon, may I suggest we complete the investiture ceremony somewhere a little drier?”

He levels Obi-Wan with a challenging glance, but its severity is diminished somewhat by his own bedraggled state. Despite their equal exposure, the rain has somehow managed to do more damage to Mace Windu’s composure than any of the others. Perhaps because he is more conscious of his position, and his dignity than the other two, Qui-Gon being rather untroubled by such pretensions, and Obi-Wan still humbled and distracted by the circumstances in which he’s come face to face with the unquiet ghosts of his past. Both of them wear the rain with ease, but Mace has struggled, unable to convince himself of the need to shield himself, but conscious of the desire. His cloak is patchy with damp, and the top of his head reflects the sky, the water washing his face, and dripping from his lips and chin. It is clear that Obi-Wan feels this indignity on his superior’s behalf, but Satine fights laughter at the spectacle.

“I think that would be wise, Master Windu,” she says, her voice tripping and sparking with barely repressed delight.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he says, with a shallow bow. And then he says, “There is an air car waiting.”

And Satine feels her stomach drop.

She meets Obi-Wan’s eye over Mace’s shoulder. His gaze is steady, and somber and as he makes his answer to the master’s request, and she can hear farewell in the heaviness of his voice.

“Yes, Master Windu,” he says. “Satine, I’m sorry we must be so brief, but I -” and he stands gaping, and voiceless for a moment.

The tight knuckle of sickness twists in her gut, scraping across the raw nerves of the underside of her skin, buckling muscles, and shifting against her bones, but she swallows the nausea back, and saves Obi-Wan from the inexorable void of silence.

“Do not apologise, Obi-Wan,” she says. “These things cannot be helped. Perhaps it is better this way. Perhaps the sting will be less.”

“Like a plaster,” he says, numbly.

And she agrees. “Just like.”

Master Jinn’s rises from his crouch, leaving his hands to ghost over Korkie’s shoulders, his hand still wrapped in her own, and Obi-Wan still staring at her, still drowning in the rain. Master Windu is merciful then, and bows out his leave taking.

“I’ll prepare the car,” he says.

“Thank you, Mace,” says Qui-Gon, when no one says anything else, and Master Windu leaves them to say goodbye.

But still, no one moves. Silence falls, a fragile, lacework thing, too delicate to touch with the clumsy fingers of speech. They remain suspended in its web for an age, until Qui-Gon braves what the others cannot fathom, and speaks again.

“Obi-Wan,” he says, stepping away from Korkie to reach for his own grown padawan. “A word.”

He draws him aside, turning away, turning their backs to Satine and Korkie, and speaking quietly in Obi-Wan’s ear, an arm about his shoulders, and drawing him close in private assignation. At another time, she might feel ostracised and othered by this, but now, she is grateful. It is she who is with Korkie, and the Jedi who must stand apart.

She kneels to face her son, heedless of her skirt, of the thin satyn and how it catches at the rough duracrete, pulling taut, maybe tearing beneath the pressure of her knees. She doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter. What matters is this: herself, and her son, and the rain washing away the things between them.

“I don’t want to go,” says Korkie, and she grips his hands tighter than before.

“You must,” she says. “You must. You are going to be a wonderful Jedi Knight. Just think of that.”

“I don’t care,” he says. “I know I said before, but I changed my mind. I want to go home.”

“You can’t go home, kih'kairkiyc,” she replies, her tongue growing thick with a truth she hates to speak. “Remember? We talked about this. It’s dangerous. But you will be safe here. Knight Kenobi will protect you.”

“But who will protect you if I’m not there?”

“Oh, many people, Kiorkicek,” she says. “A whole court of people. All the people. The people of Mandalore will be my strength, and they will take very good care of me while you’re away, and one day, when you come home, they will be glad to meet you again, and so will I.”

“Do you promise?” he asks. “You won’t forget me? Even if I’m gone for a very long time?”

“Even if you were gone for almost as long as forever, I would never forget you, Kiorkicek Kryze. Ni kar'tayl gai sa'ad. Ratiin.”

“Ratiin,” he repeats. “Always, and always.”

“Yes,” she avows. “Now, do you remember what I told you?”

“To wash my face, and brush my teeth every day, even if I’m very sleepy.”

And she laughs, pulling him close to her breast, and tucking his head beneath her chin.

“Yes,” she says. “That is very important, but what else?”

“To listen to the masters, and study hard, and show respect, and try my best, and to always, always be very kind to Knight Kenobi, because he isn’t always very kind to himself.”

“Yes,” she whispers. She presses a kiss to his hair, and combs it as flat as she can. “That last part, most especially, kih'kairkiyc. Look after each other. For me.”

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, Belli.”

“Bal Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, balyc.”

“Satine?” The call is Obi-Wan’s and she looks up from the cradle of her embrace, and her son within it to see him standing cautious, and concerned a few paces away. “It’s time to go.”

“Of course,” she says. She stands. She takes Korkie’s hand, nestled in her own, and places it in Obi-Wan’s. For a moment, the three of them are one, together, and then…

She lets go.

“Goodbye, my Kiorkicek,” she says. “Remember what I told you. Kote, ijaa, aliit. Ratiin.”

He nods, and she can see his grip tighten on Obi-Wan’s hand, fierce determination rising in the face of her expectations. It is Obi-Wan who falters.

“Satine, I -” he shakes his head. His eyes match the storm. “I will do my best by him, I swear. I will not fail you. I will not.”

“I know,” she says, steady where he is not. “I would not give him up to another. None but you, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Gar ratiin ru’kar'taylir. Be gentle with it.”

He nods. There is nothing else to say, and they’ve always been terrible at goodbye. She smiles at Korkie one last time, and he points at the sky.

“Happy tears,” he says, and grins, wiping the salty streaks from his own face.

And with that, he tugs on Obi-Wan’s hand, and leads him off towards the distant figure of Mace Windu, and the air car waiting patiently to take them home.

But Satine is not alone.

Qui-Gon Jinn steps close, until she can feel his shoulder jut up against her own, the warmth of his body breaching the barricade of wet clothes, to soothe her own chapped skin, and she shivers against him.

For a moment, they say nothing, just watching as Obi-Wan turns to Korkie, and Korkie to Obi-Wan, chatting animatedly, his free hand swooping through the air. She imagines he must be telling him of their departure from Mandalore, and the world he left behind, and she hopes that selfishly, she might be included in as many of these stories as he thinks to tell, because he is in all of hers. Qui-Gon chuckles beside her.

“Fast friends, already,” he says.

“Forgotten just as fast,” she whispers, nearly losing the words to the storm. But Qui-Gon is listening closely.

“Never that,” he says. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, and she yields like water, dropping her head to his shoulder, and weeping into the crook of his neck.

“I thought I was ready,” she says, hitching breaths to match the shifting winds. “But it has come too soon.”

She feels his chin press against her skull, and though it isn’t exactly comfortable, there is comfort in the angles of his affection, and she leans closer to him, until her arms sneak beneath the wet folds of his outer robe, and wrap around his waist. She clings there, as though she might blow away. This is familiar, though it is an old, old memory, now. She was once a girl, before she was a Duchess, and Qui-Gon Jinn was once to her the very thing her father could not be. She was bereaved, but never lost, and there were many nights that Qui-Gon held her while she wept just like this. It is easy to reach for him, now. It is easy to look back.

“You are never ready,” he says, his voice vibrating so near to her ear it is as though he speaks to her from within her own mind. “But he is not going very far. He is with his family. He is with his father. You are not losing him to the wilderness.”

“No,” she says. “Only to the Force.”

He does not chide her for the bitterness upon her tongue.

His own words remain gentle, and soothing, and he rocks her in his arms, as they watch the matched set of their hearts walk away.

“Then I have lost my own heart twice,” he says. “First to the Force, and then to you. But people always come back, in one way or another. No one is gone forever.”

And as they reach the car, as though he hears their call from across a vast, unending night, and over the wind and roar of the storm, Obi-Wan looks back, and Qui-Gon smiles.

“Oh, look,” he says, as the knight turns once more to his son. “There he goes again.”

Satine buries her face in Qui-Gon’s arms, and though she doesn’t feel at peace, for a moment, she feels like she has come home.

#my fic #prompt fill #spotify prompt fill #the chain #korkie kryze #korkie is a kenobi #obitine #satine kryze #obi-wan kenobi #qui-gon jinn #mace windu

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lady-himbo · 3 years ago

Text

In Your Shadow

sort of Javier Peña x reader, platonic!Steve Murphy x reader (she/her pronouns; no Y/N used)

Javi keeps getting the credit for work he didn’t do, and she’s pissed. Chaos ensues.

Word count: 2500+

Warnings: angst and frustration, lots of cursing, potentially horrid Spanish (I’m learning, I promise), smoking

A/N: This is based on the song Shadow by Unlike Pluto. You can find pieces of the lyrics in the dialogue. You can also find the translations of everything said in Spanish at the end! Feel free to correct me on anything; like I said, I’m learning Spanish, and I appreciate any advice. <3

“... and thank you again to Agente Peña for providing this invaluable intel.” As the meeting adjourned and several individuals voiced their praise, she charged out of the briefing room and into the office, seething, death-gripping her files to her chest. Hot on her heels, Steve attempted to pacify her.

“I’m sure he didn’t mean to steal your thunder, honey. He’s just-”

“What? He’s just what, Steve? A senior agent? Running the show? A man? Tell me, what exactly justifies him getting credit for the shit I’ve worked months on?!” The files were starting to crumple in her grasp.

“Well, I don-”

“This isn’t even the first time he’s done it! He’s gotten recognition for my informants, my intel, my translations, my briefings, my goddamn livelihood!” Her voice was starting to raise in pitch and volume as tears gathered in her eyes. Steve held his hands up, trying to silently reason with her. “I can’t win, Steven! I work my ass off day and night for this fuckin’ job, only to have the rug pulled out from under me because I’m ‘not working as hard’ as holier-than-thou Javier goddamn Peña and his massive ego! I have to live under it and, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, it casts giant shadows!”

Unfortunately, the source of her rage had picked an inopportune time to waltz in. With only a second to register Steve’s panicked look, Javi might as well have wandered into the middle of a firing squad. The execution probably wouldn’t have been half as painful.

“You motherfucker!” she yelled, slamming the now torn and wrinkled papers onto her desk with a clatter. “You lying, power-hungry, manipulative bastard! You fuck every other woman you get the chance to, but you’ve decided to fuck my life instead! I’ve worked for fucking months; hundreds of hours and sleepless nights on this information, and you’ve taken all the credit! Again!”

Javi, oblivious to the full impact of this outburst, opted for the worst possible response. “Come on, sweetheart, we’re working as a team. Plus, you asked me to hand it in to Noonan. If you wanted to take credit for it so badly, you should’ve just talked to her yourself!” Steve visibly cringed and gestured for him to cut it out. Too late.

She stalked forward and, though Javi tried to back up, she had him backed into a corner. “You pompous ass! ¡Más tonto y no naces!” She’d broken out her Spanish. Oh boy. “I can’t even talk to Noonan because she always tells me to run my ideas by your incompetant ass! You cast a shadow over everything I try to do; it’s not like I can get anything worthwhile done when your massive ego’s towering over my ambitions!” She jabbed a finger into his chest, punctuating her words. “Nothing I’ve ever done here has ever mattered to the agency, because I live in your shadow and you’ve taken all of it from me! When will you move out of my way and stop treating me like a fucking doormat?!”

Javi was starting to get defensive, which was never a good sign, especially when Spanish started to get sprinkled in. “¡Oh, lo siento mucho!” he shot back sarcastically. “I wasn’t aware that all the work you get authorized by me to do was proprietary!”

“Are you fuckin’ serious?” she spat. “All you had to do was say the report was from me! It’s not proprietary, Peña, it’s my goddamn right to present the information that I spent my own money, overtime, health, and physical fucking safety to acquire! I’m sorry that I have a genuine interest in making sure this case gets handled right instead of spending my every waking moment getting my dick wet in my informants!”

A small group was starting to gather near the office, waiting to hear if Peña finally got his ass handed to him. This didn’t seem to bother either agent as they glared each other down. With Peña’s pride now on the line, no holds were barred, and he was ready to bust out personal attacks.

“Any competent agent would’ve just handed their shit in themselves, but no, you’ve gotta rely on someone else to do it for you.” He was livid; his pride had been damaged while he was riding the high of gloat and achievement, like getting laid and immediately being punched in the balls. She wasn’t letting this one go, and it was obvious he wasn’t either. “God! You’re like a cloud every time you walk in here, bitching about how little sleep you’re getting or how your work is piling up; a fuckin’ rain on my parade!” He stepped forward, crowding her, his posture more and more assertive with every word. “¡Madura de una vez! You’re an adult, a government agent, taking down a drug cartel run by Pablo fuckin’ Escobar! No one’s getting sleep, and it certainly doesn’t help when you’re whining about it! Maybe if you stopped, you’d have time to turn in your own reports and get the credit you don’t deserve!”

Escobar himself could’ve walked through the office and no one would’ve noticed. Javi’s mouth slammed shut the moment the words left, but they seemed to echo in the eerily silent office. Her shoulders sagged, and she stumbled back a few steps, trying to steady herself.

“Fuck, I-” Javi choked on his words. Her eyes were red, her cheeks stained, but her face was frighteningly level.

“Yeah, tienes razón.” Her voice was hollow, tired. “It’s always stormy lately. I guess I’m just under too much pressure; it’s driving me insane. There’s only one way to relieve it.” She slipped off her gun holster and unclipped her badge, pressing them into his chest. “I quit.” Without a second glance, she stormed out of the office.

Two weeks later, her desk was cleared out, her files and informants were on a list to be redistributed to the rest of the unit, and the office was uncomfortably heavy. Javi was smoking way more than usual, everyone avoided him like the plague, Steve was bored, the case was at a standstill, and the quiet was palpable. She was no longer a colorful presence flitting around the tables, leaving a rainbow of Post-it Notes in her wake, charting cell signals, calling out for advice, chatting on the phone in Spanglish, humming quietly or bobbing her head to the radio, popping up to refill her coffee cup and offering to refill everyone else’s every couple hours, then rushing off to the bathroom when she’d had too much. She was a constant presence the unit soon realized they’d taken advantage of.

The phone on Steve’s desk rang mid-morning, and he stifled a yawn as he picked it up. “Murphy,” he grunted.

“Hey, Stevie,” came a familiar voice. “¿Qué pasa?”

He brightened. “Hey, hon.” He felt some of the tension leave him, but it was still there. “We’re fuckin’ stuck. Nothing’s happening, everyone’s lifeless, and Javi’s still moping. Eso es lo que pasa.” He could hear her breathy laugh; she was always proud when he practiced his conversational Spanish with her. She’d told him she felt it was an honor he was comfortable enough to try it out around her. “What’s up with you?”

“Ahí vamos; he estado mejor. I’m sorry you have to deal with-” she stopped and huffed, then her words became muffled. “Tengo una cita con la embajadora, huevón. ¡Estoy al teléfono!” She yelped. “¡Tócame otra vez y te rompo la nariz!” There was a brief commotion, then a thump, and suddenly, her voice became clear again. “Sorry, I’m waiting on Noonan. I’m supposed to meet with her today to finalize my paperwork.”

Steve sighed. “You’re really going through with this, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess I am.” Another voice called her name in the background, then spoke quietly for a moment. “What?! ¿Qué quiere decir ‘no está aquí’?” The voice spoke again, then there was a pause. “Okay… Si, todo bien… Está bien. Listo.” Then, back to Steve: “Noonan didn’t show. Some emergency meeting. Just great; I guess I’m rescheduling.”

“Maybe it’s fate!” Steve teased, only half joking. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Javi trudge across the office to the coffee pot, give it a long, forlorn look, then trudge back towards his desk. His eyes were heavy, his shirt rumpled, even his mustache looked sad. As he plopped down amongst towers of papers, Steve cleared his throat and made a show of nestling the handset under his chin. “Well, whatever the case, that gives me time to convince you to stay with us. Your desk looks stupid empty.” Though he was deliberately looking away, he could see Javi’s head and shoulders snap up like he’d heard a gunshot. On the other end of the line, she laughed.

“Don’t try to sweet talk me, Murphy. I’d welcome the company, though.”

“Of course!” he replied, making sure his smile was as cheesy as possible. “I’ll meet you outside in a little bit?” She agreed.

Steve busied himself with pretending to look busy for the next half hour, then announced he was going to talk to Carrillo. As soon as he turned the corner and was sure he was out of sight, he watched Javi scramble out of his seat and out the door.

Outside the building, she was sitting on a bench, her back turned. Lazy wisps of cigarette smoke danced in the wind in front of her figure, and Javi suddenly felt very insecure. He called her name, uncomfortable with the way his voice wavered. She jumped, then, after a beat, slowly turned towards him. “Come mierda, Javier.” He didn’t let her words deter him, approaching the side of the bench. She glared up at him. “No me joda. I’ll finish up in a second and leave.” He wrung his hands, feeling small under her stare.

“I’m going to sit with you,” he declared.

“Please go,” she said, softer this time. “I just wanna feel the wind one last time before I leave. Just wanna look at this shitty masterpiece of a city; really take it in.”

He ignored her plea and sat, far enough away that he didn’t feel like he was ganging up on her. They just sat, and she took long, deep drags of her cigarette. After she eventually ground the butt into the pavement, he took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry.” He left the declaration hanging in the wind for a moment, before plunging on. “I’m sorry for what I said, and what I’ve been doing to you. I’ve been a selfish asshole, and you were right to call me out on that. I’m not going to convince you to stay, because you don’t deserve to be dealing with my bullshit all the time. You’re talented and selfless and I never appreciated everything you sacrificed for us until it was gone. I just- fuck, I feel like such a piece of shit.”

“You are.” He blinked owlishly. “You’re a self-centered, impulsive manwhore with a weird mixture of self-hatred and a superiority complex. You’ve been a horrible coworker and I almost feel ashamed that I tried so hard to be your friend.” He ducked his head, trying to hide his mortification. “Almost.”

He peered back up at her, cocking his head in confusion. “That said, you’re a great agent, kind and sympathetic when you wanna be, passionate about the work we do, and, when you keep a level head, you’re fun to work with. I don’t know if I can forgive you right now for all the shit you did, but your apology goes a long way. I appreciate that.”

She took a deep breath, then stilled, staring out into the movement and noise of Medellín. He watched her for a few minutes, though it felt like hours. He watched the clenching and unclenching of her jaw, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the flutter of her eyelashes; all the details he’d been too busy to notice. “Penny for your thoughts?”

She looked over, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t know. I’m just thinkin’ about life. What I want to do.”

“I know it doesn’t amount to much, but I’d like you to stay.”

“I can’t- I mean, I can, it’s just that- fuck, I don’t even know,” she mumbled, furrowing her brows to try to stop a tear from slipping down her cheek. “It’s just that, by all official records, I’m pretty much worthless here, y’know? All my abilities go unnoticed and it’s like I’m not even there. I know you don’t mean to stand above me, but you are, and the shadow I live under is killing me. It’s taken my job, my self worth, my… being. I can’t live like that anymore, constantly working at the precipice of death, of destruction, of failure, and the one thing I can do to help isn’t even appreciated as my own. It’s just… cold.”

Javi nodded. “After you left, I went up to Noonan and explained what’d happened; that I didn’t deserve any of the credit I’d been given.”

“Well, that’s not true! The things that you did you deserve credit for. You’re incredibly talented, Javi, just not with my intel.”

“But… you do deserve the credit I get. You deserve so much more than you‘ve ever gotten. What I said was so selfish.”

She grabbed his hand. “Javi, selfishness aside, I know you’re in a dark place. We all are. After all, we’re government agents ‘taking down a drug cartel run by Pablo fuckin’ Escobar’ and we don’t get any sleep.” She smiled at her usage of the words he’d berated her with weeks earlier. “I should’ve taken more initiative to turn in my own work; it was silly of me to put that on you. I know you’ve got your own mess going on. Plus, I said a lot of awful things right back. Most of them I meant, some of them I didn’t, but I could’ve handled it all a lot better. I’m sorry we didn’t work this out earlier.”

Javi squeezed her hand, feeling a little warm tingle in his stomach. “Me too.” He sighed, raking his other hand through his hair. “I- er, we really do need your help. You’re priceless.” She exhaled sharply, tilting her head back and forth as if weighing her options.

“Fine. I’ll talk to Noonan.” Javi’s face lit up. “But on two conditions.” He nodded. “One: I get recognition for my past and future work, and two: you promise to work with me and call on me if we have any issues. We can’t have these communication errors any longer if we’re gonna catch these bastards.” She paused, then smiled lightly. “Also, you owe me a lot of coffee.”

Just as Javi agreed, Steve came out of the building. He stopped a few paces from them, looking back and forth from Javi’s pink cheeks and goofy grin, her teary eyes, and their interlaced hands. “I’m sorry, what did I miss?”

She laughed as they pulled their hands apart and she wiped the tears away. “I’m keeping my job.”

“That’s amazing! …Peña, what did you dose her with?” Javi let out the fakest laugh he could, but smiled along with it. She sighed softly, the breeze dancing across her skin.

“All I want is to cast my own shadow.”

Translations:

¡Más tonto y no naces! - If you were any dumber, you wouldn’t have been born!)

¡Oh, lo siento mucho! -> Oh, I’m so sorry!

¡Madura de una vez! -> Grow up!

tienes razón -> you’re right

¿Qué pasa? -> What’s up?

Eso es lo que pasa. -> That’s what’s up.

Ahí vamos; he estado mejor. -> Fine, I guess; I’ve been better.

Tengo una cita con la embajadora, huevón. ¡Estoy al teléfono! -> I have an appointment with the ambassador, asshole. I’m on the phone!

¡Tócame otra vez y te rompo la nariz! -> Touch me again and I’ll break your nose!

¿Qué quiere decir ‘no está aquí’? -> What do you mean ‘she’s not here’?

Si, todo bien… Está bien. Listo. -> Yeah, all good… all right. Okay.

Come mierda -> Eat shit

No me joda. -> Don’t fuck with me.

#narcos #javier peña x reader #javier peña #f!reader #winnie writes

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lesbian-dp · 5 years ago

Text

Royally Fucked

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Words: 2,271

Warnings: Misogyny, frustration, bath sex, strap on sex... p sure that's it.

Request: Yah.

Summary: The Queen will always be your world.

A/N: Just an FYI this is obviously set in the medieval times, so the reader is pretending to be a man, bc they’re a Knight. Just wanted to let you guys know that.

18+ ONLY.

“-A woman cannot rule on her own-!”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, near enough seeing your own brain, before you tuned out the dull drawl of the aged man.

His Royal Highness. Howard Stark. A pompous old git, who rules his kingdom with an iron fist. The man, who was currently ranting in front of each kingdom’s officials. All because, he was trying to wed his son, for his own selfish greed. And you. The Queens General and secret lover had to be there to witness it.

“I’m sorry you think that, you Highness.”

Ah! There she was.

A small smile tugged at your lips, hearing her husky voice.

Glancing out of the corner of your eyes, down to where Natalia sat regally beside where you stood.

God.

She was gorgeous.

How you ever got so lucky, is beyond you.

Her red layered dress, lined with the finest gold thread, the world had to offer, pushed her soft perky breasts up. Giving you a fantastic view of them, from where you stood above her. Your agile eyes were soon drawn to her plump, moving lips. Watching Natalia’s plump, moving lips. Watching them intently, remembering the look of them clasped around the crystal toy strapped around your hips. And the way they felt gliding across your wet core. How soft they were against your own lips. Moaning into your mouth, in a telltale way of what was about to come undone.

Spoiler alert! It was you guys!

Realising you had probably been staring at her beautiful self for minutes too long. You repositioned yourself, placing a hand upon the hilt of your sword, and staring blankly at the wall of the meeting room, in front of you. The door within your eyesight, able to see any and all newcomers, should they arrive.

“However, I would like to remind you of which of us are in their bankruptcy.”

“How dare you-?!” His face grew red with rage, light grey moustache and hair clashing, terribly, with the raspberry hue it had taken on.

“Watch your tone while you are speaking to the Queen,” you ordered.

“And I’d watch your tongue!” the King argued back.

Natalia placed her hand gently upon your leather-bound arm, just as you opened your mouth to shout a reply. Glancing down at the red-headed Queen, she shook her head, and you knew to hold your tongue.

“I’d rethink about who you appointed to be your head Knight. They’re obviously lacking in some basic training.”

“With all due respect, your Highness,” Natasha began, an entirely fake smile drawn upon her face, “My General is of the highest order. They live by the highest standards. And I respect them and their opinion. I can’t help it if you expect everyone but yourself to watch how they speak.”

“Now, General?”

You turned to face Natalia. “Yes, your Majesty?”

“Would you be so kind, as to personally escort King Howard from the castle. I think we have all heard enough for one morning.”

“It would be my pleasure.” You gave her a half bow, before moving towards the infuriated man.

***

Huffing, you slammed the door to the quarters the Queen had “gifted” you with. Reasoning that it would be better for her safety, if you were close by, in the castle. The royal quarters being only a few doors down from your own.

You kicked off your dirt-covered boots, as you threw your ornated sword across the room, and into the wall, in frustration.

“Well, that wasn’t very nice.”

The voice to your side made you snap your attention to it. You knew that voice. You loved that voice.

There she sat.

The Queen.

Her legs were crossed, hands folded upon them. Watching you from her place on your bed.

“That sword was very expensive. And a gift from myself, if I might add,” Natalia said, the corner of her lip up turning slightly, as she cocked an eyebrow.

You sighed. Taking a step towards the red-headed Queen, you said, “I’m sorry, Your Majesty.”

She waved you off.

“I don’t care about the sword,” she said, “I care about what has gotten you in such a foul mood,” Natalia finished with a pout.

You knew how bad she wanted to make you feel better. How much she hated seeing you any other way, but happy.

“They’re incompetent fools.”

Natalia smiled at this.

“The Trainies?”

“Oh, no!” You shook your head. The memories of your day, attacking your mind. “Not just the trainees- If anything, they’re better than most of the men we have now.”

The Queen stayed silent as you spoke. Listening to you intently, her face the only give to any reactions. Namely being a tick of an eyebrow, sometimes even both, and a roll of her eyes.

You drew closer to the beauty that is the woman you have devoted your life to serve. And now to love. However secret that may be.

“I swear. If we ever have the unfortunate luck as to be thrust headfirst into a war... I am afraid we might not survive.”

It was quiet for a moment, as the Queen debated her words. Right now, she was not Natalia, your Natalia. The woman who told you she loved you at the dead of night. The one who called out your name during the throngs of passion. The one who was soft to touch. Who’s skin was perfectly smooth against yours.

No.

This was the Queen.

All business, and took no shit.

The woman who did what she had too for the good of her kingdom, to keep her people safe.

“What do you need?” she asked, finally.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, now only a step away from her, “Time?” you asked simply. Before breaking out of your stress-induced trance. And closing the distance between you and Natalia. Placing a gentle, but firm hand upon her shoulder, you said, “But let’s not think about that now...” You leaned down, to be eye level with her. “I want to spend some time with, my Natalia.”

The Queen smirked at what you called her, it quickly turning into a soft smile.

“I think that can be arranged.”

“Good.”

And with that, you lifted the shorter woman up into your arms, beginning to make your way out of the room.

“Now, I think, after the long day we’ve both had, we deserve a bath.”

***

The water was a milky white, red rose petals floating upon the calming water. The same water that swayed with every movement.

Gasps and moans filled the air, as the wet red-head bounced upon the blue crystal that was almost always strapped against your hips.

You said because it helped in making people believe you were one of the opposite gender. But mainly it was because of how much you love the availability to take the beautiful Queen, whenever, and wherever you two so wanted.

One of your bedchambers.

The throne room.

The dining room.

A random palace hallway.

Hell.

Even in the royal courtyard, if you so wished.

You watched Natalia’s silky wet body move on your lap. The water gliding against her body, her hair wet, and nipples pert. With your hands on her hips, helping her chase bliss. Then continuing to slide along her glistening body, pulling her closer to you.

Natalia panted as you left open-mouthed kisses all along her neck, them travelling up to her cheek, and finally her full lips.

With your arms wrapped tightly around her, one around her smooth shoulders, and your other around her waist. Pressing her against your body, as you kissed her earnestly, pouring everything you felt for the queen into that one kiss. Natalia’s arms wrapped around your neck, as she fucked herself onto you, kissing you the very same way.

“The bath’s starting to get cold,” you mumbled against her mouth.

“Then we should hurry, so that we can go to bed.”

“To sleep? Or...?” You rose your eyebrows. Once. Twice. To convey what you meant.

“Or.”

You smiled brightly at her.

Your lips were around her nipple in the very next second, sucking with enough power to make the Queen cry out. Causing her to buck her hips into your lap, faster than ever. Riding you like one would upon a station, on a long journey. Chasing her realise.

She jumped back in surprise when your hand connected with her small bud, rubbing away at it, but she soon continued to drive the object deep within her “sinful” hole.

It was not long after when she cried out in pleasure. Throwing her head back and crying out to the Gods.

Once Natalia had recovered, merely breathing heavy, with her head tucked into the side of your neck, you spoke.

“Let’s get to bed. Huh?”

***

Sat upon your calves the royal silky sheets rumpled beside you. Natalia’s legs thrown over your hips, and your hands gripping hers. Rutting into her. Drawing out her beautiful sounds.

How the powerful Queen could be reduced to this, you did not know.

You were only thankful that she chose you to reveal this secret side of herself too. Knowing how closed off she was to the world. If she even showed a thread of emotion, like she wanted too, on many occasions, other than her cold and calculated, yet caring self. The surrounding kingdoms would be out for blood.

More than they already were, that is.

“My lord, Natalia,” you husked, “You are beautiful.”

And she was.

She was beautiful, no matter what.

But right now, she was especially stunning.

With her hands gripping yours on her hips, her flushed chest rocking with each of your thrusts. The sweat, and remaining bathwater, making her body shine like the sun. Her mouth parted and gasping, and her eyes heavy-lidded.

You could go on and on about all the things you loved about the woman below you. For an eternity if you could. However, you were in the middle of something, as Natalia reminded you.

“I’m all yours, Y/N,” she spoke softly, “No one could ever compare to you.”

“Nor you, my love.”

Your hands on her hips tightened slightly. Helping her to lay in her stomach, Natalia moving to grip tightly on the silky pillow, pressing her face against it.

Her legs straddled tightly against yours, ass in plain view. The crystal resting on Natalia’s slick, wanting heat.

Groaning softly, you spoke, “There are no words in this world or the next, that could convey how much I truly do love you.”

The Queen hummed softly at your admission, her shoulders moving, and then relaxing with a sigh.

Your hands gently brushed down her silky back, until they reached her ass, caressing the plump asset.

“You were crafted by the God’s,” you said, adoration clear in your voice.

“Then why don’t you make me see them?” she replied, smirk upon her face, as she wiggled her ass to tempt you. The toy rubbing against her core.

And she did tempt you.

Of course, she did.

Pressing down on the crystal, you watched as it steadily disappeared into your loves throbbing head. Natalia moaned, as inch by inch, it vanished within her. Brushing against every crevice, drawing her high-pitched whines when it hit the special parts within her, bringing the Queen utmost pleasure.

With your hands now on her ribs, you slowly started to thrust into her. Working in drawing moans from her.

“Oh, God!” Natalia cried.

“Can you see them yet?” you asked playfully.

“Not quite,” she replied, matching your pants, as she backed herself u onto the toy you fucked her with.

“Guess I’ll just have to go harder.”

The bed was creaking below you, as you worked harder to pound into the woman you loved. Natalia's grip on the white pillow, patterned with red, tightened as cries poured from some unknown place, deep within her.

“Fuck! I love you, baby!”

“I love you, too, Natalia.”

She was close. She was oh so close. You could feel it every time you moved. Every time you pulled the crystal from her depths, only to push it back in, with vigour. It getting harder and harder to do.

“You’re close,” You stated.

Natalia nodded vigorously in agreement. Going to bite against the pillow.

“Don’t do that,” you told her, “I want to hear you, when you arrive.”

At your request, Natalia unclenched her teeth and allowed the pleasure-filled noises to pour from her mouth.

One of her hands snapped to one of yours that lay on her ribs, it surely leaving light bruises in their wake. Gripping at your hand, as she got closer to her much-anticipated release.

You couldn’t pull your gaze from her pleasure-filled face. Her hair sticking to her forehead, and around her ears. You knew that this would be her last orgasm, for a little while.

Pressing kisses against Natalia’s neck, jaw, and cheek. She came with a powerful cry. The hand not holding yours, came to grip the back of your head, fingers sliding through your hair, as her insides tightened around the toy.

You let her ride out her realise before you pulled from her.

With a tried sigh, you flopped down on the luxurious bed, besides the blissed-out royal.

“How you doing there?” Natalia nodded at you. As to say she was okay.

She came to cuddle into your chest.

Your hand was combing through her slightly damp, sex mused hair when the Queen spoke.

“I think it’s about time we came clean to everyone, about our relationship.”

“What?” you asked, shocked.

“Marry me.”

#original work #original fanfiction #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #marvel #MCU

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young-vannois · 3 years ago

Text

“I want to see the Vault,” Umbris demands of her sister, orange robes rumpled as of she had slept in them. In one hand is clutched a scroll yellowed and crumpled with age, its edges torn and chipped.

But Cecille only tilts her head, the skull mask looking back at Umbris impassively as faint blue lights dance around her head.

“No.”

“Why not?!”

“I know you have read the scrolls, I am not oblivious.”

“Cecille, we are dying! Our clan has been reduced to nothing! How much longer must we wait? How much longer CAN we wait?!”

“Much more than our sleeping ancestors lay in wait in the Vault dear sister. Creatures who must be held at bay with spells and technology. It is not safe for you to enter the Vault, much less with the intent to wake our elder brethren.”

Cecille gently takes the scroll from Umbris’ hands and tucks it beneath her shroud before turning to disappear around the corner and out of sight before Umbris can argue further.

“You must have Faith sister. They will awaken when they are needed.”

Umbris alights upon her outer balcony and slams the veranda door behind her with an agitated sigh, her hands still clenched tight and her head feathers in disarray. The room is cool despite the midday heat and sun shining through her carved windows. One of the perks of living in the Crystalspine Reaches: their homes were carved into the sides of the spires themselves and retained better consistent temperatures.

But it did little to ease Umbris’ rage in the moment. Not even the softness of her bed could quell the indignity rising in her chest. Cecille had treated her like a child and brushed off her concerns like nothing.

“Faith? Faith isn’t going to put food in our stores, coin in the coffers, or protect our already weak borders! Faith- pah!”

“Oh man, am I interrupting another golden rant session?”

Umbris only twitches as she turns to level a steely glare at Lios, who had slithered into her chambers (or had been waiting already) and was grinning at her from the ceiling. He dropped down with a graceful twist and stood up, raking claws through his wild crest.

“Cecille keeps brushing me off about the Vault- AGAIN. It’s taken months just to find the scrolls about them and they hardly contain anything useful! And then when I ask, she starts going on about ‘faith’ and dark secrets. I know there are monsters there but I don’t care about them. We NEED to awaken the Forebears before our clan turns to nothing but a memory!”

Umbris has to slump against her rattan chair as she finishes, suddenly exhausted from her outpouring of frustration.

“Only she and Cataracta know where the Vault is and how to access it. Why won’t they listen to me? We’re on the brink of disappearing.”

She suddenly can’t help the sob that wracks her, forcing her into a curled up ball in her chair. What would happen when there was no more people to bring food? When no more warriors were left to patrol their already weak borders? The schools and nurseries had been closed for over 20 years now, the markets more quiet than not. What stalls were left were often shuttered closed and the streets empty. They were at the mercy of their neighbors and merely one generation away from fading away.

Lios’ hand grasps her shoulder as he kneels next to her, squeezing gently as his deep blue eyes look at her.

“Don’t give up now. We’re so close, I can feel it. You’ve worked so hard and I won’t let your work go to waste. Just tell me what to do,” he says softly.

Umbris drags in a ragged breath, wiping the dampness from her cheeks as she looks down at Lios. He had backed her since the beginning, when the merchants stopped coming more than once every three months. He had been with her when the nursery had closed and the caregivers had left. He was there when the last of their students had graduated in a mere class of five. He would be there no matter what.

“We need to find the Vault ourselves.”

“I’m a good tracker but Cecille and Cataracta use some sort of magic to travel there and mask their trails.”

“Then we don’t need them. We need someone else who came from the Vault.”

Lios’ eyes go wide at her suggestion and he sucks in a quick breath.

“You mean...”

“We need to find the Quiet Prince.”

#fr #flight rising lore #flight rising #The Fate of Vannois

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snakeboistan · 4 years ago

Text

Days Like This No One Should Be Alone

AKA: Maeiso adopt local blueberry snek

TW: Mentions of Abuse and forced cross-dressing

Whatever Maehara was expecting to happen today, this definitely wasn’t on the list. Not even in the top 20. It’s surprising how a perfectly normal day could be flipped upside down faster than Koro-Sensei could fly from one continent to another - and it all started so normally as well.

He was walking towards the cafe that his boyfriend worked at, which was his third favourite place to be (the first being in Isogai’s arms, of course), umbrella in hand to protect him from the onslaught of raindrops that were pelting down from above. His casual stroll through the nearly empty streets of Tokyo was quickly halted when a flash of blue caught his eye, bumping straight into him and sending him sprawling backwards onto the rain-immersed pavement. Maehara closed his eyes and hissed in pain at the tingling sensation of the grainy tarmac rubbing against his palms.

“Oh my god,” a very familiar voice cried out in panic, “Maehara, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there. Are you okay?”

The strawberry blonde groaned, eyes still shut as he lifted himself up from the ground.

“Wha-yeah, man, it’s cool no worri-NAGISA?!” Maehara yelled in shock, eyes bulging and jaw dropping when he took in the appearance of his classmate.

Splodges of striking indigo draped the smaller boy’s forehead, temples and cheekbones, glaring angrily at everyone that so much as glanced at them. The smears of purple and red near those large cerulean eyes stood out against that porcelain, otherwise pristine pale skin. His cheeks were red and the golden-haired boy couldn’t tell if it was from his crying, exertion or the cold bite of the chilly air. Locks of aquamarine that were usually tied up into cute twintails were unraveled, cascading messily down the other teenager’s scalp, a few stray strands sticking haphazardly to his dampened face. What was really strange was his clothing: flowing near his knees was a flared pink skirt decorated with intricate little floral designs and a pastel pink blouse was tucked under it. The garments were rumpled and ruffled, soaked with rain and tarnished with mud. His feet were bare with raw pink painting their edges. Pooling around his feet was a large piece of cotton - most likely an old blanket - that was probably dropped during the collision.

“Nagisa, what the hell happened to you?” Maehara spluttered out once he was snapped out of his trance-like state, “why are you wearing that? Where are your shoes? Why are you crying?”

In hindsight, it probably wasn’t a good idea to start bombarding questions at a boy who looked like he was going to either burst into tears or have a panic attack without a second’s notice but the surprise of this entire situation just seemed to make all logic and reason fly out of the window.

“I-I’m sorry. I-I’ve I’ve got to go,” Nagisa stammered out as he swiftly picked up the discarded sheet on the ground, now dripping murky brown due to the rainwater. Maehara quickly grabbed onto the blunette’s wrist to prevent him from escaping his sight.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said firmly. Nagisa exhaled heavily and squeaked, looking at him with eyes wide with fear.

“But-but-I.”

“If anyone’s chasing you I’ll give them a lesson they’ll never forget. No one is chasing you, right?”

“N-n-no,” Nagisa gulped at the stern look that the usual carefree teenager shot him, shaking his head rapidly, “at-atleast I don’t think so.”

“Hmm,” Maehara hummed, jaw set, practically seething with rage as he regarded Nagisa’s bruised and shivering form. Whoever hurt, his classmate, whoever terrified him to this level, they better run. It just so happened that Nagisa was a beloved member of a class of assassins, all of who would give hell to whoever it was that would dare hurt him. All it would take is one message to the class group chat and they’re done for - they have no idea who they just messed with. When he noticed that Nagisa still bore that fearful countenance, his eyes softened and he pulled the smaller boy closer so that both of them were standing under the umbrella. He then handed the handle to him, which Nagisa took with a perplexed look that then transformed to shock when Maehara started stripping off his rain jacket.

“Maehara, what are you doing?” he asked with alarm, voice rising.

“Giving you my jacket,” was his simple response.

“What?” Nagisa whisper-yelled, “wha-no! You can’t do that. Really I’m fine and-”

“No, you’re not,” Maehara retorted as he held the jacket out, “Nagisa, it’s raining cats and dogs and here you are soaking wet. You’re not even wearing shoes and you’re shivering. At least I’m wearing a full-sleeved sweater under this. Now take my jacket before I shove it onto you myself.”

Nagisa gulped once again at the uncharacteristically serious tone in the blonde’s voice before taking the jacket and tentatively put it on. The large garment practically engulfed him, with the end reaching upto his calves and the cuffs flowing past his fingertips.

“Alright?” Maehara asked. When Nagisa nodded, he continued, “good. Now come on, let’s go.”

Nagisa yelped when the taller boy swung an arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer under the protection of their shared canopy, “wai-wait, where-where are we going?”

“Out of this rain for one. I was actually on my way to Isogai’s cafe before I bumped into you - literally,” he was hoping that that little quip would’ve brought a slight smile, or at least that small huff of laughter he usually does, but if anything, the look on Nagisa’s face could only be described as horror.

“Wait, Isogai!” he whispered harshly, stopping in place, “I-I can’t let Isogai see me like this. I-I I just can’t. Please Maehara, just let me go.”

“Nagisa, I can’t,” Maehara replied kindly, “look, I don’t know what’s going on at all here but I need to make sure that you’re safe and letting you run off to god knows where in the pouring rain is the complete opposite of safe. We don’t need to talk about the bruises but we need to atleast get you someplace warm. And, look, you know Isogai, he never judges or asks questions when he shouldn’t. Just, please, let me make sure that you’re alright, okay?”

Nagisa bit his lip and looked down before making the smallest movements with his head - a nod. Maehara internally crowed with victory that was mixed with an overwhelming surge of protectiveness that curled in his gut at the way the golden hue of his bright yellow umbrella seemed to highlight the contusions that decorated the other boy’s face.

“That's the spirit, Nagisa. Now let’s go.”

……………...

Isogai was dressed in his classic black and white waiter’s uniform, carrying a tea tray and the air of polite grace and elegance. When the bell by the door rang to signal the two boys’ entrance, Isogai raised his head to greet them with his usual friendly smile only for his face to fall with horror and concern once his eyes had taken in Nagisa’s injured form hanging off of his boyfriend.

“Excuse me, ladies,” he said gentlemanly at the middle-aged women he was currently serving tea to, flashing them his patented pleasant smile that brought in customers by the dozen as he carefully placed the teapot in the middle of the table, “an issue seems to have come up so if there’s nothing else for you to order, I shall be taking my leave.”

“Why of course not, Isogai,” One of them cooed, waving her hand down at him, “you work so hard, you know. Do be a dear and give your mother my love for me, though.”

Isogai bowed his head, “Of course, Ma’am. Please enjoy your meal.”

He immediately rushed towards the entrance, placing a hand onto the blunette’s shoulder, “what happened?”

“I bumped into him on my way here,” Maehara supplied with a jerk of his head towards the shorter boy, “any chance there’s a free booth for us?”

“Of course,” Isogai smiled, though his eyes held unmistakable concern. The look of disquietude on Maehara’s face made him uneasy - and, of course, it’s not everyday you see your classmate entering your place of work with bruises littering their face and feet bare. Especially a pacifist like Nagisa who would be the last person on Earth to be involved in a brawl of any kind, “follow me, please.”

Once Nagisa and Maehara were seated, the golden-haired boy turned towards their class representative, “Hey, Yuuma, I think he could use some tea. He’s shivering and I don’t think that it’s from the rain.”

Isogai nodded firmly, eyes still glued onto the unfortunate subject of their conversation, whose head was hung low and had yet to speak a word, “I’ll get a cup right away.”

As soon as Isogai left, Maehara looked at his companion, “So, Nagisa-“

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Nagisa mumbled, hugging himself tighter.

“Alright,” Maehara said, feeling very much out of his depth at the moment, hoping and praying for Isogai to hurry up. It was such a role reversal, for him to be the one comforting Nagisa when it was normally the blue-haired boy that was the class therapist, who was the one with the emotional intelligence to make anyone calm down or cheer up, “let’s talk about something else instead.”

“Like what?” Nagisa turned to him.

“Like,” Maehara suggested, “like, about these cute cat videos Kurahashi sent to the group chat earlier. Have you seen them?”

When Nagisa shook his head, Maehara grinned and pulled out his phone to stream the very video. It turned out to be the trick because the starting clip of a tiny kitten pawing at a ball of yarn caused the very thing that Maehara hoped would happen - Nagisa smiled. It was just a small quirk of the lips but it was there. As the seconds passed and a new clip started playing, the other seemed to be entranced by the screen, even at one point covering his mouth to muffle a slight squeak of laughter. Isogai arrived during a later recording of a bunch of felines staring confusedly at a piece of cling film that was blocking their path, looking at Nagisa quizzically before turning his gaze towards Maehara, who just smiled. The brunette smiled back as he placed the tea tray onto the table and took a seat on the chairs opposite the other two. Nagisa’s head shot up at the sound of the tray hitting the tabletop, his smile sliding off his face as fast as lightning. His earlier look of fear made an appearance, which made Isogai quickly say, “Hey, it’s alright Nagisa. Nothing’s going to happen, okay. We won’t make you say anything you don’t want to, we just want to help. Oh, here, I brought an ice pack for your face. Does it hurt?”

Nagisa shook his head, but took the ice pack anyway, quietly replying, “No, I-I barely feel a thing, really. You shouldn’t have gone through all of that trouble.”

“Nonsense,” Maehara said as he started to pour Nagisa a steaming cup of tea, pushing the ceramic cup towards him, “now drink up, man.” When Nagisa just stared at the beverage, he added, “it’s not poisoned you know.”

Nagisa unzipped Maehara’s jacket so that he could extract his arms out and place both palms onto the warm surface of the tea cup and bring it to his mouth, making sure to take slow, careful sips. Isogai’s eyes widened at the sight of Nagisa’s short sleeved, light pink blouse before turning to Maehara, questions blazing in his eyes. His boyfriend could only shoot his own puzzled look and shook his head.

“Nagisa,” Isogai started, “where did you get those injuries?”

Nagisa paused, looking down at the table as he deeply exhaled, “I-I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Were they from some bullies? Delinquents? Main campus kids?”

Nagisa said nothing.

“If it was Seo and his buddies, you can tell me,” Maehara said, smirking darkly, “I remember perfectly well them trying to have a go at me during the Kaho incident. Of course, we made them pay in the end but I wouldn’t mind going for a round two.”

“Hiroto,” Isogai reproached, “not the time. But Nagisa, if someone from our school did this to you, I would really appreciate it if you told us.”

Still nothing.

“Nagisa?”

…

“Bro?”

“No,” Nagisa finally whispered, it was so small that if the other teenagers weren’t sitting directly beside or opposite him, they probably wouldn’t have heard him, “it wasn’t someone from school.”

“From another school?” Maehara offered.

Nagisa shook his head.

“I see,” was all Isogai said.

“Does this have anything to do with what you’re wearing?” Maehara asked, “because-”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Nagia repeated, more firmly this time.

Realising that they weren’t going to be getting anywhere soon, Isogai said, “Alright, let’s not talk about it. We can’t let you go home though, not until the rain’s cleared up, at least.”

“I’m sorry for ruining whatever plans the two of you had,” Nagisa murmured. He seemed to find a spot on the table very interesting.

“You’re not ruining anything, Nagisa,” Isogai stated.

“Exactly,” Maehara agreed, “I normally come here before Isogai finishes his shift anyway. I usually just wait here by myself for an hour until he’s done then he spends his break with me and then I stay until it’s time for him to leave. I’m friends with the owner so he’s good with me hanging around. If anything, I’m thankful for your company.”

“Thanks,” Nagisa muttered, still refusing to meet either of their gazes, “for this - for everything. You didn’t have to do all of this and I-I know that you guys are worried for me and want to help but I’m just-I’m just not ready to talk about all of this. Not yet, at least.”

“We understand that,” Isogai explained kindly, the usual twinkle in his eyes returning full-force, “But you must know that we care about you. Maehara and I. Us seeing you hurt is not something we take lightly. And you don’t just have us; you have everyone else in our class and Koro-Sensei and Karasuma-Sensei - I’m pretty sure that even B***h-Sensei would help you if you asked her to. It’s the least we could do for all that you’ve done for us. I’m pretty sure I would’ve gone crazy or Kataoka would’ve killed someone if you aren’t there to keep the peace.”

“He’s right,” Maehara chipped in, throwing an arm around Nagisa’s sodden shoulders and grinning at him, “you’re like the nicest and sweetest guy ever. If you told me that singing birds help you get ready for school every morning I would wholeheartedly believe you. We all have your back, got it? You’re not in this alone.”

Nagisa smiled at them, though it did kind of resemble a grimace, a hue of rosy pink spreading across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, “heh, thanks. To be honest, guys, I’m just really tired right now.”

“Well if you’re tired you could just go to sleep,” Maehara suggested, “we’re going to be here a while.”

When Nagisa started to doze off, his sodden head resting on Maehara’s shoulder, the blonde looked at his best friend since Elementary School, “what should we do, Yuuma?”

“I’m not sure,” Isogai replied, “we can’t make him open up if he doesn’t feel comfortable with it but if he’s in danger we can’t let this go on. The best thing we can do right now is be there for him and wait for him to be ready to tell us what he can. Oh - looks like some new customers are coming. Are you alright with sitting here?”

Maehara smiled, “Sure I am. Go ahead, Yuuma. Go charm the world with your dazzling looks.”

Isogai rolled his eyes good-naturedly. He swiftly stood up and just as he was passing his boyfriend, he leaned down and placed a kiss onto his cheek, “Love you.”

“I love you too.”

As long as they had each other, everything would be alright.

#assassination classroom #shiota nagisa #nagisa shiota #maehara hiroto #hiroto maehara #isogai yuuma #yuuma isogai #maeiso #my writing

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takadasaiko · 3 days ago

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Burn the Worlds, Chapter Twenty-Five (a OUAT fic)

Chapter Summary: Rumple finds himself in uncharted territory, Caiden faces a difficult question, and the meeting of OutlawQueen.

FFN II AO3

The girl was fast. Even as Silas dove for the loosed dagger that the clerics were convinced would control the Dark One, the blonde wrapped her fingers around it. Her shout was garbled and uncertain, as if she didn't quite know how to wrap her tongue around the name she called. She got it out, though, and apparently it was close enough because magic swirled as a man appeared in the main room of the cabin.

He looked very little like the demon that Robin had encountered when he'd broken into the Dark Castle so many years before. Gone were the gold scales and the crimped hair, leaving behind a thin man - almost fragile looking in the way he leaned against his cane - who appeared briefly startled at being dragged from wherever he'd been before. That didn't last, though, and Robin watched the shift as his dark eyes sharpened and he quickly took in the situation. Silas at the opposite door, he and Soren blocking the back exit, and in between lay a broken and beaten young man and his blonde companion.

Magic swept out, slamming hard into the twins and Robin, and the Prince of Thieves found himself skidding back, Soren tossed even further and out the open back door. It had been a broad attack, but as he scrambled he could see the Dark One levelling a more focused one on Silas. The cleric let out an ear-piercing screech when magic ripped into him. Robin watched, frozen in place more by horror than by the earlier blow, as dark magic ripped at the cleric and - even through the horrifying scream - he thought he could actually hear the sound of bones breaking. He'd been on the receiving end of Rumplestiltskin's ire, but as he watched a man die in front of his eyes, he started to think that the Dark One had let him off easily after all.

Soren let out an angry shout from somewhere beyond the door and startled Robin back into action. He notched his bow, taking aim and ready to fight for his life as the Dark One turned his attention around to them. Behind him, Silas' lifeless body crumpled to the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

Those dark eyes fell on him. "Is this what Belle's mercy bought from you, Locksley?" Rumplestiltskin demanded. "She gives you your life and you come for my son?"

Robin set his stance and adjusted his grip ever so slightly on his bow. "They have mine. I have no choice in this alliance."

Strangely enough, the building rage that was directed at him seemed to stall just a little, even if he looked like he was still fighting the urge to do to him what he'd done to Silas. "Your boy? Roland?"

His son's name from the demon's mouth had been the last thing he'd expected and he didn't dare trust his own voice. Instead, he managed a nod even as the sound of footsteps echoed up the back porch steps.

And then the malice in his eyes was fully put away, almost as if he'd won whatever internal battle he'd been waging. "He's safe. Away from this lot."

Back home, whispers about the Dark One flowed. Some were true, some weren't, and some they would never truly know, but one thing that Robin had heard from every corner was that the Dark One never lied. He hadn't believed it before, but in that moment - if it was because it was true or he simply wished it to be - he did.

Soren came barreling through the door and slammed to a stop at the sight of his brother. Robin turned just enough to see him out of the corner of his eye. The boiling rage, the desperation… He let out a wail that echoed through the small cabin as he lurched forward and Robin couldn't swear his mind and body were perfectly in sync as he spun and loosed the arrow that had been notched for Rumplestiltskin.

It flew and lodged deep in the remaining twin's chest, killing him before Soren ever knew what had happened. Well, wherever men like these clerics went once death took them, he'd join his brother there.

Silence followed the thudding body until the blonde girl dragged in a gasping breath. "Gold! He's not breathing!"

The Dark One's curious look sharpened as he turned back towards his injured son and he took a knee next to him. Tears fell down the girl's face as she clutched the dagger in one hand and the dark haired young man against her with the opposite arm. "I can't… I can't lose him. You have magic, right?" she managed. "He's going to be okay?"

Robin stood as still as the two dead men and watched as Rumplestiltskin's thin hands ran over the broken form. "I can't… I don't…" He swallowed hard as if he were trying to gain control of his increasingly unsteady emotions. "Magic's different here."

"You used it to kill them!"

"Darkness isn't the issue. Healing someone else… it's not something I can use my curse for."

She turned wide, hazel eyes on him. "He's dying! You have to save him!"

There was a small flicker in the Dark One's expression that Robin couldn't place. He didn't argue, but instead reached forward and the magic that wrapped around his son shimmered ever so slightly in the air around him as if it were threading together. Bit by bit, wounds stitched up, glossing over and healing right in front of their eyes, and finally - after what seemed like an eternity - dark eyes flashed open and the boy that Robin had heard them refer to as Baelfire sucked in a deep, startled breath. Perhaps possession of that dagger really did give one full command over the Dark One.

The girl bent over him, dropping the knife as she wrapped her other arm around him and loosed a loud sob. "You're okay!"

"Ow," he managed, though Robin thought he heard a soft chuckle in the complaint. Those eyes - so much like the ones his father wore in this world - swept out over the room. "Papa."

The Dark One offered a crooked smile, even as he touched the discarded knife and it disappeared to places only he knew. "How're you feelin', son?"

"Okay… I think." He looked over the two dead men before his gaze fell on Robin. "Hi?"

"Robin of Locksley," the Prince of Thieves said by way of greeting before turning back to Rumplestiltskin. "As much as I'm hesitant to interrupt this…"

"Your own boy. Of course. Fair enough payment for your help in the matter."

He waved his hand, magic swirled, and Robin held his breath as he waited for his little boy to appear.

----

She remembered the day that he'd simply appeared in the Great Hall. Broken. Bleeding. She hadn't really known that he could bleed until that day. There were so many stories and legends that surrounded the Dark One that it was difficult to pick fact from fiction early on, but the one that said he couldn't die had been utterly dispelled as the sun had sunk behind the mountain and Belle had struggled to keep him awake. She hadn't known Magnus' name at the time, but she'd seen the marks that his endless battle he waged with Rumple had left on the man she'd eventually grown to love. She'd nearly lost him that day, and now they were trying to take him away again.

She'd be damned if she let them.

"That's him," Roland managed from behind Regina, cowering back and gripping the fabric of her slacks. "He took me and Papa away."

"Why don't you let me take you back to him, little one?" the cleric offered, his tone neither holding a false kindness nor was it as menacing.

"Why don't you bring him here?" Regina countered. "We'll make a trade. I'll give you Snow and Charming. Two for one."

"Hey!" Snow snapped from her place.

Regina turned to her, her expression insincerely perplexed by the outburst. "What? You want to go to your daughter and I promised the boy his papa. Everybody wins."

"Or you can zap him with your magic and we'll go rescue Emma."

"She can't." The words, a partial echo of the cleric's own, fell from Belle's lips even as a few pieces of what was turning out to be a very complicated puzzle dropped into place. "Magnus used her somehow…. Rumple said the magic here was strange. You can't use your magic, can you?"

Regina's expression darkened, but she didn't deny it. Instead she simply positioned herself a little better in front of Roland.

Blue eyes flickered back to the cleric that seemed to be assessing the best avenue to take as Snow gaped and Regina glared. Interesting. He was calculating, but in those calculations was a patient manner, as if he were trying to take the path of least destruction. It wasn't at all what Belle would have expected from her limited and removed experience with the clerics, and perhaps that gave them the in that they needed.

"What do you hope to achieve in all of this?"

His clear eyes snapped back to her and she held his gaze without flinching. He tilted his chin up a bit. "To rid our world of darkness."

"And you do that by becoming darkness itself?"

He pushed a short breath out through his nose and she wondered if it was a thought he struggled with often. "I know of you, Lady Belle. Your kindness and your selflessness was a story that reached farther than you might have ever known. With that, did you find him kind when he whisked you away as payment for your people's lives?"

"That's not -"

"It is," he answered. "Innocent souls suffer under the Dark One. He manipulates and he warps events around him to his own benefit. He takes and he takes and he takes until there's nothing left in his wake but empty darkness. That is the curse, and it is our duty to rid the worlds of that foul curse."

"And yet you came to the Land Without Magic where it could be suppressed without killing the man it inhabits and you brought magic here. Your master did that. Not Rumple."

In the back of her mind she knew all eyes were on them, but thankfully the crowd of opinions remained silent as the two squared off in a battle of wills and words rather than any magic or steel.

"He'd have brought it himself."

"He came here to find his son, who wanted nothing more than his father without the curse."

"And he would have been content in that?"

A soft breath left her as she thought on in for a moment, her gaze dipping before rising to meet his again. "We can't know now, because you never even gave him the chance."

"He's fooled you, m'lady. Whatever man the demon hides behind is not really there. It's a skin he wears, nothing more. His love for his son or for you… it's not there. It's a manipulation. It's the same with every host the Dark One's curse takes. None can love under it."

The words struck a chord and Belle's gaze sharpened a bit on him. "Rumple's not the first Dark One you've fought?"

"Hardly. I saw the one before him and the three before that, but Magnus… He's seen them all."

"That's hundreds of years."

"Yes. I suppose it is."

"And what does a mortal man give up to see so many centuries?"

His clear blue eyes narrowed ever so slightly at the question, but if he had an answer, Belle didn't hear it. Instead she felt the familiar tug that meant she was being dragged across miles of space in a fraction of an instant. When her eyes focused again, the shop was gone and she stood with Snow, David, Regina, and Roland in the cabin. Rumple was there, no worse for the wear, though Bae certainly was. His shirt was stained dark with blood, even though he appeared to be steady on his feet, and Emma stood at his side. She watched as little Roland raced forward, calling out to his papa as he flung himself into the familiar figure of Robin Hood's arms and Snow launched herself at a very shaken looking Emma.

"You're okay!" the queen managed, flinging her arms around the young blonde who stood frozen, her own arms bowed as if she wanted to return the embrace, but wasn't quite sure how.

"Yeah. We're okay. We're okay. You guys? Are you…?"

Snow released to press her palms against the girl's cheeks, a radiant smile only a mother could wear gracing her face. "Emma."

"Do you… remember me?"

"I do. I don't know how I could forget!"

Belle's gaze lingered for just a moment on the lone figures of David - who clearly wasn't sure what was happening and standing alone - and Regina who Belle wouldn't have wagered would look quite as abandoned by the little boy that had rushed to meet his father. Unlike her step-son-in-law, she didn't have to wait. Robin looked up from where he'd taken a knee to embrace his child to look at the woman who had put herself between Roland and danger just a few minutes before.

"That's Gina," Roland explained. "She saved me."

The Evil Queen gave a painfully awkward smile. "I just got him out of the mines."

Robin stood, Roland in his arms, and crossed over to her. Belle found herself watching the meeting unfold with a sense of something meaningful in the air. Rumple had always said that True Love was the strongest of magic, and she wondered….

Rumple.

Belle turned, finding her own True Love lingering back with his son, dark eyes fixed on her. She felt the corners of her lips tug upward and she threw herself forward in his arms. "You're alright," she breathed into the crook of his shoulder and she felt his arms encircle her.

"Of course, dear," he murmured into her hair, but she could feel the way he held onto her like an anchor steadying him against the waves. Funny, nothing the cleric said stuck with her in that moment. All that was was the reunion of the family she'd never expected to have. Rumple - the love of her life that she'd met through a deal he had struck - his son and his son's love. Emma's parents - both known and unknown - and even Regina, however she fit in here. For a long moment, it was just them, and they revelled in what they'd managed to protect. More was to come, but what good was life if they couldn't hold onto the moments of triumph like this?

----

Centuries upon centuries of study and practice had taught Magnus how to hone his magical skills. They were many, but he'd never gained the power of Foresight. It was a damaging blow the day Rumplestiltskin had added it to his own repertoire. It had put him at least three steps ahead of them on a good day, often further than that. Mangus was nothing if not adaptable though. He'd adjusted and he'd learned, soaking in the texts from all corners of their world and eventually learning the art himself, though admittedly at a much more limited scope than his opponent that had simply absorbed what his predecessor had bequeathed to him. It gave him something. A vision. A direction. He just had to give himself fully to search for it, even if it often only gave him moments in time a fraction of a second before they happened. At least it gave him a wide view, if not a distant one.

The town was under their command, though for how long remained to be seen. The twins were dead and the thief had been reunited with his son outside of their purview. Caiden survived, but he'd failed. They needed to move quickly if they wished to retain their advantage.

Magnus' sightless eyes cracked open from where he was knelt down in meditation in the back room of the convent that Reul Ghorm had claimed as her own in the curse. Caiden stood in the doorway, his entire demeanour saturated with questions and guilt. Interesting. He didn't even know that his delay had cost his brothers' their lives that day.

"The Dark One free, the thief without tether, the Evil Queen with her allies, and even the savior outside of our reach. What information could possibly be worthy of this interruption?"

Caiden hesitated at the door, and Magnus could feel his gaze linger on him long before he spoke. He waited - more stubbornly than patiently - until the younger man said: "You clearly Saw what happened."

"I did."

"Then did you See what happened in the shop?"

He hadn't, mostly because he thought he could trust Caiden to fulfil his commands. He always had before, but something had been eating at his protegee since he'd sent him back to their world after the thief. Caiden was determined, he knew. Dedicated to their cause. One or two Dark Ones prior to the current one - Magnus lost count in all of those years - had obliterated his village. Magnus had found him in the burning remnants. Young and angry and willing. It hadn't taken any convincing to join his cause. Only a promise: to right the wrongs. To protect the weak. Caiden had been his loyal companion from then out. Perhaps it had been three Dark Ones ago.

"I've never needed to look in on you for you to do what is required," Magnus answered and he could feel Caiden stiffen at that.

"I've served you for many years."

"You have."

"Our goals have always been aligned. Intricately so."

"I fail to hear the question."

"I was a mortal man before you found me. Young. A family. Everything stolen by the Dark One."

Magnus turned milky-white eyes towards him, waiting for the point that had interrupted their goal.

"How did it begin?"

"You know that. All dark curses were gathered into one and took over flesh."

"Yes, but how did you come by the power to… face it? To extend all of our lives?"

"Are you asking what was sacrificed for our goal?"

"Yes."

Magnus loosed a breath and shifted to stand. He turned and could feel Caiden steel himself as he moved towards him. With intention, he reached out to place a hand on either shoulder. "We have been called to this, and in that calling, we are given the years to pursue it."

"But why us?"

"Because we've sworn an oath to it."

"And who began it?"

Mangus paused, hearing the question behind the question that Caiden hadn't dared to ask in a half of a millenia. He gripped the younger man's shoulders a bit more tightly, holding him in place with the weight of his words. "Eradicating the Dark One's curse is the goal. There is nothing else."

He waited until Caiden soaked his words in, weighed them, and then nodded obediently. "Of course. Of that, there's never been any question."

His grip tightened and he felt the other man wince ever so slightly. "Then do it."

"It'll be done," his protegee swore, and left him to his meditation.

-----

People often spoke of the quiet before the storm by way of warning, but those that did were not accustomed to being the storm themselves. Raging winds and magic buzzing through the air like lightning, Regina had found a kinship with the angry skies when she rained down her retribution on those that deserved it most. Like the storm, she sent her enemies scurrying for shelter. Like the storm, she left utter devastation in her wake.

All storms eventually dissipated, though. She simply hadn't expected to still be there once it did, but there she was: powerless and forced to side with those she'd sworn to destroy, but they were a means to an end. Magicless though she was, what would it say if some useless cleric was able to sweep in and steal away her town, her magic, and the curse she'd bestowed on everyone? No. She needed her magic back. Once she had it, she'd rip that fool of a cleric's heart from his chest and crush it.

She just had to find her way back to it and quickly.

Rumplestiltskin had always been good for that when he wanted to be. He'd fought the clerics longer than Regina had been alive and had studied what he hadn't seen himself. It was, she told herself, the reason she'd taken a gamble on him when he'd laid dying. She needed him and he owed her. It was time to collect on the rare debt.

The Dark One was finishing up the wards around the perimeter after whisking the two dead clerics' bodies somewhere beyond it. If Mangus or his people approached, all they would find was the forest, looped back in on their path in much the same way as Regina and Roland had been in the mines.

"I hear -" her old mentor drawled out, the two syllables taking considerably longer than they needed to - "that you're in a bit of a bind."

"Protecting you cost me," Regina answered pointedly.

He paused where he was bent down to inspect one of the wards. His thin fingers danced across it, though they both knew it was an idle gesture. He was buying time. He was calculating. As he did.

"And you've come to collect."

"You always said nothing came without a price."

"Indeed," he murmured and stood slowly, his limbs straightening with a sluggishness that spoke of the weight of the day.

There was a long moment, and then another, and finally another as Regina pushed a frustrated breath out through her nose. "So can you fix it?"

"No."

The single word was a punch to the gut. "What do you mean 'no'? You owe me your life, you ungrateful imp!"

"Keep your voice down," he chided, his dark gaze sliding back towards the cabin where much of their ragtag group were sleeping just a handful of steps behind them. "I'm hardly ungrateful. I know what you did and this would be a terribly simple way to rid myself of a rather hefty debt… if it could be done."

The words sunk in slowly, the weight of them threatening to drag her down with them. "Then that's it? He stole everything from me?" she managed, her voice breaking as the words escaped.

That dark gaze she'd become accustomed to for the last handful of years there in Storybrooke shifted to look at her. "Not everything. You certainly have your wits about you, or you wouldn't have escaped him. You'll need those."

"For what?"

That impish smile quirked his lips ever so slightly. "Why, regaining what he took, of course."

That storm built up in her and she levelled a glare that would have made a lesser man tremble. "Stop with the games, Rumple. You said -"

His gaze snapped fully on her, and even though his eyes were dark rather than gold, it reminded her of the early days when he'd grow frustrated in her lessons. He knew the answer. Surely she did too. "I said I couldn't return your magic. Not any more than I could have given it to you if you'd had not an ounce of talent in your bones when I found you. All I can do is all I've ever done: teach you. And you know the lesson needed to unravel a spell put on you."

"Not like this."

He tilted his head as if he were studying her. "It doesn't matter the size of the spell or even the intricacy. The more threads woven together, the more time it takes, but it will unravel if you pull the correct thread."

And with that he turned, leaving her standing at the edge of the perimeter, the rest of their party asleep or on his way in to rest, and she loosed a frustrated breath. Well, she hadn't gotten this far just to lose to a cleric of all things. He wanted her to find the right thread? She'd find it, and Magnus wouldn't know what hit him.

----

TBC

Notes: And again, I need to apologize for the lengthy delay between chapters. I'm really going to have to grovel over on my other multi chapter that I haven't updated in more months than this one O.o We're coming towards the end of this one though. I think two, maybe three more chapters. With everyone together now, things are really going to hit the fan >:D

Next Time: Regina and Robin have a heart to heart, and while Rumple searches for a way to take down Magnus, loyalties will be tested.

#OUAT #Once Upon a Time #OUAT fanfic #Rumplestiltskin #Belle French #Regina Mills #Robin Hood #Snow White #David Nolan

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ryik-the-writer · 4 years ago

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CHAPTER 9 - Rapids

A03

Here’s the continuation on this story that took me three years to get out.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Belle had never known such fear.

She sailed the entire world, faced typhoons and sharks and poachers nearly her entire life, but the creature—the man—she was most afraid of was walking high and dry on land.

And threatening her merman.

Belle’s heartbeat began to escalate as she paced down Storybrooke’s streets, her mind spinning for answers.

This wasn’t something she could go to the police about. What the hell could she say? “Help, my mer-boyfriend is about to be killed by a poacher-pirate guy?”

They’d think she was insane!

But she rather have to plead her case than waste any more time. The clock was ticking.

Luckily Merlin and Ariel were in the kitchen preparing dinner, chatting and laughing.

She watched her friends for a moment, wondering just what they thought of her after her disappearances these last few weeks. She hadn’t been the best towards them lately, and they’d shrugged off her absence beautifully. She owed them the world.

Ariel looked up and grinned widely at the site of Belle.

“Well, look who’s actually home for dinner,” she teased.

“I’ll get the good wine,” Merlin chimed in.

Belle gulped and stepped further into the kitchen, clutching her stomach.

Ariel instantly noticed Belle’s demeanor and placed down the knife she was holding.

“Okay, what’s going on?” she inquired as she led her to a chair.

Merlin killed the heat on the stove, and joined them, his eyebrows raised in concern.

Belle clutched her stomach, nausea threatening to take over.

“Guys,” she began to explain carefully. “I’m…I’m in trouble.”

Merlin’s mouth fell open, automatically misinterpreting Belle’s distress.

"Oh shit, you're pregnant, aren't you?" He gripped the back of the chair he was holding onto tightly, taking in a deep breath to stead his nerves. "It’s fine, we can sue for child support and put it in a college fund to—”

“Damn it Merlin no!” Belle shrieked, covering her face in humiliation.

“Then what’s going on?” Ariel demanded as she stepped in front of Belle.

“This has gone on long enough! You’re gone all day, don’t come home until the middle of the night. Your sunburn and waterlogged but you keep going back to the beach.”

Belle gulped. Ariel wasn’t just angry, she was hurt, and she had rather dealt with her rage than her pain.

Ariel stared at her best friend of over ten years. They’d sailed the world together, survived hurricanes and sharks and god-awful boyfriends. There weren’t secrets between them. Until now that is.

“Please, Belle, just tell me what’s happening to you, what’s going on?” Ariel pleaded. “Whatever it is, I will help you and support you all the way.”

Merlin nodded beside her. They were all in this together.

“It’s…a bit hard to believe,” Belle explained.

Ariel shook her head. “There’s nothing in the world you can say that we won’t believe.”

Belle groaned a bit, looking back and forth between her best friends.

“Okay,” she sighed, knowing this was about to be a bloodbath.

“For the past several weeks, I’ve been befriending and studying a merman off a cove on the beach. And now, Killian Jones, the captain of the ship Eric works on, is trying to hunt and kill him and I need your help to save him.”

The kitchen became so quiet that only the sound of boiling water could be heard. Merlin and Ariel finally exchanged a rather incredulous look.

Belle gasped. “I know it sounds crazy-”

“Actually, it sounds a lot less…odd than what we were expecting,” Merlin shrugged, making a very obvious step to the phone hanging in the kitchen.

“Merlin,” Belle whined.

“We’re just gonna give Dr. Whale a call,” Merlin responded with a tight smile. “Maybe he’s got a good remedy for dehydration…and insanity.”

Belle covered her face, feeling like she really was about to pass out. Rumple was running out of time, and she was a phone call away from ending up in a looney bin!

Ariel looked torn, but determined. Belle knew from experience that she – a championed athletic swimmer – could easily tackle her if she tried to make a quick escape. Judging by the worry on her face and her clenched fists, she might just do that.

She had to be logical, but quick. She had to bring them to her side.

“Guys, wait, please,” she pleaded, earning Merlin’s stare as the phone continued to ring.

She took a deep breath, summoning the courage she needed.

“I know you think I’m crazy, I thought I was too, so I don’t blame you,” she laughed. “But I need you both to believe me, to give me a chance.”

Merlin and Ariel glanced at each other, unconvinced but practical.

“If you could just come with me down to the docks, I can show him to you,” she swore. “Just for a moment? Please, please just trust me.”

Ariel and Merlin looked unconvinced and ultimately she had to be the one to grab the keys and make a decision.

“Five minutes at the sand dunes, and then can we take you to the hospital?”

Belle tensed. They really did think she was crazy.

“Fine,” she agreed hastily, “let’s just go.”

She sprinted to Merlin’s truck, Ariel quick on her heels as if she were trying to make a break for it.

Let them think what they want, Belle thought, as long as they got to Rumple and figured out a plan. She didn’t trust Killian not to make his move early and completely cut her from the equation in the process.

The ride to the beach severely contrast from earlier trips the trio had made. There was no laughter or good-natured banter between them. Just an eerie silence that threatened to silence them all forever.

Belle hated it. She didn’t want to have her best friends in the entire world on the outside. She hated how she had kept them there to begin with.

She'd make this up to them, she promised, but she had to save Rumple first.

Save the merman, make peace with her friends, in that order.

Belle was ready to fly from the truck when they came across the nearly forgotten mass of sand dunes, but Ariel seemed to act as a wall between her and freedom.

“Just…stay close to me, okay?” she inquired, not quite meeting her friend’s eyes.

Belle tried to get the lump in her throat down but failed. Merlin as well looked ready to spring after her.

Belle could have rolled her eyes at their behavior, but she understood in a way where they were coming from.

She thought herself mad sometimes at all this. Merfolk were stuff of legend after all, and the fact that she was up close and personal with one on a daily level still had her in shock.

But she wasn’t crazy, and Rumple was somewhere in the area and she had no choice but to reveal his existence.

The trio skid down the dunes, Belle’s eyes immediately searching for her merman.

The water was quiet, the faint echo of seagulls creating a lullaby over the area.

“Maybe he’s sleeping,” Belle suggested out loud.

“Belle,” Ariel sighed.

“Just…give me a second,” Belle said as she kicked off her shoes. She dodged Ariel’s grasp and eased into the cold water, shivering with anticipation.

She placed her hands above the water, feeling the vibrations from the life underneath it.

Rumple’s life.

“Rumple, please come out.”

A small wave crashed on to her, shaking her but not knocking her down. She looked up and found Rumple staring at her, grinning.

“Back already?” he breathed.

“Yeah,” she said, choking a bit on the relief that Jones hadn’t gotten to him yet.

Rumple noticed her distress instantly. “What is it, Belle?”

As his eyes searched her face, it landed on the other two humans behind Belle, both of who were gaping at them.

“Holy fish!” the female with long red hair said. “Holy actual fish!”

The male human began to shake and slowly eased to the ground.

“That’s a…a…”

“Merman?” Ariel said, just as confused as he was.

Rumple growled at the intruders, hands squeezing Belle’s tighter.

“It’s okay,” Belle assured, fingers grazing over his. “I know they’re strangers, but their friends of mine and they're going to help us.”

“Help us?” Rumple inquired.

Belle grasped his hands, her body shaking from the stress.

“There’s a man after you, Rumple,” Belle explained as the merman’s expression changed. “The same one who hurt your tail.”

Rumple growled. “Where is he? Did he hurt you?”

Belle would spare him the details of her conversation with Jones until later. All she needed right now was for her to agree for him to go with her.

“No, but it’s you he wants, and I can protect you but you have to trust me.”

Gold nodded. Of course he trust her.

Belle motioned for him to stay put and waddled back to sure where her two companions were still gaping.

“So …” she began, motioning to Rumple. “He’s pretty real.”

“No flipping kidding,” said Merlin who had collapsed onto the sand.

“I know you’re both taking this in, but we need to get him out of here.”

Merlin rose up, staring at her incredulously. “And how do you suppose we do that?”

Belle smiled widely. “It’s about time to uncover your pool, right?”

Merlin’s eyebrows shot up. “I beg your pardon, you want to take him to my place?”

Belle dropped down to his level, practically begging him to consider.

“Jones won’t set foot on your property to get Rumple this way,

“And,” Ariel jumped in, shrugging sheepishly. “It’ll create the perfect environment to study him.”

Belle gave her a look.

“To keep a close eye on him, I mean.” Ariel corrected.

Belle shrugged, satisfied. She knew her friend was going science-mode as she had when she first discovered Rumple and meant nothing malicious.

“So what do you say,” Belle inquired to Merlin. “Can we take him home?”

Merlin looked at the hopeful women before him and then at the merman who had yet to lighten his glare.

This all seemed like a very weird fever dream, and one unfortunately that he would not be waking up from any time soon.

Best to just accept it then.

“Fine, but you two better figure out how to get the fish on the back of my truck.”

Belle and Ariel squealed and kissed his cheeks.

“Okay,” Belle gasped, a weight lifting from her chest. “Can we get the truck down here?”

As the trio worked out a way to get Rumple to safety, the merman turned to the horizon where he could just see a ship sailing across the setting sun.

Jones.

Rumple hissed with intense hatred. That man was after him, and his Belle at that!

As Belle beckoned him to the shore, he swore immediate death on the man if he came near her again.

He was not getting his beloved. Not a chance in hell or high water.

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #mer!rumple #foxmurphy #ouat au #ryik's fics #mermaids #rumbelle au #salt water

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johnkrrasinski · 4 years ago

Text

Lifeline;

full masterlist

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x female!reader

Word count: 2,379

Warning: vague portrayal of sexual assault, trauma, weapons.

Summary: in your worst times, natasha romanoff saw the best in you.

a/n: wrote this one for my friend who has truly helped me during this difficult times. thank you lily, your generosity means the world. i’d also like to dedicate this to my fellow natasha stans because i miss her terribly and she deserves more love and appreciation in the fanfic writing community. to those who could relate to what the reader in this fic is going through, i’m truly sorry. your story matters and i know that you have this resilient strength in you that i admire deeply. please don’t hesitate in sharing your story with me if you need someone to talk to. i hope you like the story. enjoy

You were sobbing on your bedroom floor as you tried to calm yourself down by thinking of her, but it was a failure considering the misfortune that had just struck you. It was currently 2 AM in the middle of the night, and you were still wearing your work clothes that were soaked from the rain and slightly rumpled. You wish it was easy to just act as if it didn’t happen to you, clean yourself off the dirt and go to bed. But no, it had sunk deeper into you than a cut on the flesh.

Your phone had rung for God knows how many times now in your purse, but all you did was disregard it. You were not in the right state to talk to her and tell her another mundane day at your job. Because today was anything but mundane.

The rain outside your window had gone heavier as if it was reflecting the raging emotions inside you and mourned it all away with you. You always loved the rain, but it was the last thing you could feel in your heart at the moment. The tears just kept streaming and your mind just keeps playing back the mishap that makes you wish you could just wipe your entire memory and start with a blank page.

That was until the sound of fumbling keys on the other side of your door jolted you but you remained frozen in place. You didn’t have it in you to invigorate yourself to get up and greet her.

“Y/N? Are you home yet?” The noises from the rumblings muffled your sobs as she tried to listen to any signs of you being home. She then walked to your room and opened the door as she found you being a crumpled mess on the floor. She instantly ran up and crouched down to your level.

“Y/N, what happened?” She spoke in a consternated state. The worry on her face was palpable.

You didn’t answer her. You couldn’t form the words even if you wanted to.

“Baby, look at me. What happened? Are you hurt?” Her voice was soothing despite her dismayed state.

It took you a few seconds to stare into her eyes and instead of explaining what went down, you only threw yourself to her embrace and curled up to her. She caressed your hair and she kissed it to soothe you. “Shh, I got you. I got you.”

An hour later, after she gave you a warm bath, you and Natasha lied on your bed with your head on her chest as she ran her fingers through your hair because she knew it always comforted you. There wasn’t a single word exchanged between the two of you but after all the things that she went through, Natasha put two and two together and decided not to push you any further for explanations.

The truth is, not a lot of people get to see this tender side of Natasha. She was known by her teammates and the world as the deadliest assassin from Russia. She was full of mystery and blood on her ledger but once you capture her heart, there was nothing she wouldn’t do for you.

That includes breaking down her walls and killing whoever makes you cry.

“Do you want soup? Or hot chocolate? I can make you one.”

You only shook your head to tell her no.

“You know I’m here for you, right?”

And you nodded. Your lids grew heavier as you slowly drifted away to unconsciousness.

The next morning, you woke up in a cold sweat, dreaming of yesterday’s nightmare. It was Saturday morning so luckily, you didn’t have to get up early and go to work.

You don’t think you could ever go back anyway.

Natasha sprinted toward your bedroom to check up on you as you were sobbing again with your knees curled up to your chest. “Y/N? Hey, it’s okay. I’m here, darling.”

It took you a while to gain composure as you held on to her to ground yourself. You finally found the strength to tell her what happened despite struggling with your words but you knew that she deserved to know and she was the only person you trusted with your life. You needed to set yourself free and if the person you trusted and loved the most in your life didn't know what happened to you, then how would you expect her to help you?

She was absolutely infuriated when you told her what happened, and she promised that she will find the man and she will take care of it herself. But for now, you only wanted her to stay with you and protect you from the grim world you were currently stuck in. And she was willing to comply with your wishes. Despite being an Avenger and carrying the responsibility of saving the world, there was nothing more important to her than putting you first and making you feel safe. And she was willing to fight anything or anyone that stood in her way.

You had never felt luckier to have her by your side.

The next day, she woke you up early and took you to the Avengers’ compound. You always wanted to visit her at the compound but since it was built solely for The Avengers and you knew that there were a lot of classified matters in the building, you didn’t wanna intrude. So you and Natasha made a deal that she was going to come to your apartment as often as she could to see you. It only took her a 20 minutes drive to get to your place anyway and she always preferred being in the cosiness of your home instead of the bustling superhero activity of the compound.

As wounded as you still were, you were willing to go with her and leave your bedroom. You had been dwelling in your bedroom for the past couple of days and you thought maybe it would be a good idea to get some fresh air and see the team.

When you arrived, she took you by the hand and led you inside. It was Sunday after all, so the Avengers themselves aren’t as occupied as they are on the weekdays. Some of them are doing their own thing outside of the compound and some of them chose to sleep in.

She led you to the training room and she landed you her workout clothes.

“What are these for?” You were clueless. You thought she wanted you to meet the team or just hang out in her room but instead… She is asking you to work out? What the hell?

“Put these on, I’m gonna teach you some self-defence moves, so you won’t ever have to feel afraid of men like your boss anymore.”

“Natasha, you know I can’t- I don’t any fighting techniques at all.” You spoke sheepishly. Maybe that’s why you and her were a match made in heaven; you balanced each other’s flaws and strengths and you helped each other grow out of your past traumas and unhealed scars.

“That’s why I’m gonna teach you, sweetheart.” She then kissed you on the lips and her lipstick tasted sweet. “Go ahead and wear these, yeah? I’ll wait for you here.”

You nodded and then went to the shower room to strip yourself out of your oversized hoodie and sweatpants, and changed into her workout clothes that strangely fit you. You walked back to where she was waiting and she smiled at the sight of you. She always loved seeing you in her clothes.

“I know you’re worn out but I promise you, we can take this slow, okay? We don’t even have to do the heavy moves, I’m just going to teach you the basics for now.”

“Okay.” You trusted her and you knew that she only wanted nothing but the best for you.

“Alright so, the easiest one is groin kick. If someone comes at you from the front, stabilize yourself, and then you lift your dominant leg off the ground and drive your knee upward.” She showed it to you with her own body and you heeded her thoroughly. “Extend your leg, drive your hips forward, and lean back slightly and kick them in the groin as forceful as you can.”

She practised the moves with her body for you to emulate her. She asked you to show her your best movie and it took you several times to get it right. Once you do, she proceeded to teach you the second move.

“The next one is, heel palm strike. If you get it right, you can cause damage to the nose or the throat. Now to implement, you gotta get in front of the attacker as much as possible. And then, flex the wrist of your dominant hand.” She performed it. “You aim for either his nose by jabbing upward from the nostrils, or you go for the chin, by jabbing upward from the throat.” You nodded to assure her that you were listening.

“Make sure that you backtrack your strike. If you pull back your arm quickly it will help you assail his head up and back. It will allow you to escape their grasp.” Then she instructed you to try to perform it with her.

Once she felt appeased with your performance, she moved on to the third one. “And now, elbow strike. Lift your eyebrow to shoulder height. And then, pivot on the same side foot and rotate your hips. It will create more momentum into the front part of your elbow when you strike.” She let you take her time to get it right.

She taught you a few more moves that you didn’t have the slightest bit idea of before today. You knew it like a common knowledge that she was masterful when it comes to martial arts and hand to hand combat and you trusted her not to test you more than your capability but, all of this was new and strange to you. Never once had you ever felt like you constantly had to look over your shoulder. Not when you had the Black Widow herself as your girlfriend but, rest in peace to your naive bravado.

Natasha then took you to the shooting range of the compound and taught you how to use a gun. She explained all the parts of the weapon and each one of its purpose. Once you got a hold of the basics, she stood behind you and wrapped you in her arms and she extended her arms to direct you to the right posture and stance.

“Remember, y/n, don’t hesitate. Don’t overthink it, just, point it right onto his chest and pull the trigger.”

“I don’t know if it could be that easy.”

“Yes it is, I believe in you, y/n. Now, imagine that it’s your pighead of a boss and he’s wasted. He doesn’t hesitate in approaching you and laying a hand on you. It’s either his life or yours, y/n.” Her hushed tone was like a voice of reason in the back of your head, languidly fading into the background as it melded with your conscience and it ignited the spark in you to shoot.

The target poster sketching up the indentation of a man, as it meddled with the nefarious clip of his hammered face walking towards you, with that revolting sneer as he attempted to overpower you with his larger figure until there was no other choice for you than aiming it to his chest and blaze him away.

It’s either his life or yours, y/n.

And… the bullet flew directly to the centre of the target. The part that would instantly paralyze a man. And you felt like the breath you had been holding back was finally relieved. You didn’t think that you’d prevail your first shot, but you did. And you were taking pride in that. “Good shot, baby. I knew you’d got it.”

She then tried to take the gun out of your grasp as your eyes were still fixated on the gunned down target. “It’s okay, you can let go now.” Your fingers gradually unclasp it and she put it out of your sight. The tension on your shoulders was discernible and she tried to dilute it by putting her hands on them.

“C’mon, let’s take a shower.”

The hollowness that filled your chest for the past couple of days was still intact, but after everything you learned today, you felt a tad more empowered than before. Like you were finally putting on your combat gear and carried your weapons in your bag to attack anyone who is out to get you.

But of course, it wouldn’t be possible without Natasha’s formidable love and support embosoming you. You heard the stories; from your colleagues, your college friends, your cousins and even stranger from the internet. But now, you didn’t only empathize with those women, but you understood their irreversible ache with every fibre of your being. You knew that you weren’t alone in this world, but it doesn’t mean that you will recover completely overnight.

It will take some time, maybe months or even years. Or maybe it would take a lifetime, but you knew that as long as you had Natasha by your side, with her emerald green eyes pacifying the raging hurricane inside you, you will find a way to live with it and learn to find your power with every step that you take.

You had been there for her through her darkest nights and now she was going to be that caregiver for you. She was going to return all the love and faith you unfalteringly put in her. She wasn’t going to leave you on your own even when you felt the most broken because out of all the things she had ever felt in this world, pain was an old friend to her. And she was going to face it with you instead of running away.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fic #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fluff #black widow #scarlett johansson #natasha romanoff headcanon #natasha romanoff drable #natasha romanoff one shot

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lilacmoon83 · 4 years ago

Text

Finding You Always

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 230: The Tide is High

"He...he's going to use our own blood against us. He's going to use our love against us…" she fretted.

"No...never. That's not possible," he promised.

"He's never going to stop...unless we stop him," she said. He gazed into her eyes and realized she was right.

"You're right...let's end this now," he agreed, as he took her hand and they strode purposefully toward the double doors.

"Crap...that will be a disaster," Leo said.

"Let's go stop them. Walking into Jekyll's playground is the last thing we should do right now. Trust me," Xander said, as they hurried after them.

"Mom! Dad!" the Charming kids called after them. A hasty act at this point with so many villains and danger afoot could lead to disaster and they refused to lose their parents to this madness.

"Mom! Dad!" Emma called, as she hurried in front of them to block their path. Leo and Eva caught up to her and flanked her, while Summer and Bobby got directly in front of them.

"Don't go…" Summer pleaded.

"She's right...it's what he wants. He's psycho," Bobby said.

"I just...I can't keep letting him hover like a plague over us," David said in frustration, as he turned to his wife.

"I can't keep letting him haunt the woman I love," he said, as he cupped her beautiful face with his hand and she leaned into his touch.

"My love...he does not haunt me, at least not as much as he would like to think," she assured him.

"The only thing that would haunt me is if I lost you," she said. He closed to his eyes, trying to quell his rage against the mad doctor inside him.

"I just feel like I fail every time he pops up with some scheme or plot," he confessed.

"You've never failed us, Dad...not once," Emma insisted.

"She's right. There's a reason that psychopath is still alive and it's because he's a coward," Leo agreed.

"They're right...you're one of the greatest warriors in all the United Realms. Jekyll can't compete, even with all his stolen power and scientific mind," Eva insisted, as she put her arms around him and he hugged her tightly. Summer joined her sister and put her arms around him too. He smiled and kissed the tops of their heads.

"The last time he faced you on even ground, you put a hole in him," Emma reminded him.

"She's right...Pleasure Island stacks the deck against you and I'd put money on you still being able to beat him. But we're not willing to put you at risk," Leo said.

"He's right, Dad...make him come to us. And we aren't willing to risk you either, Mom...so don't get any wild ideas about being selfless," Bobby added, making them chuckle.

"They are right...you're amazing and you're our hero," Snow said, as she put her arms around him too.

"My hero…" she added, as she kissed him passionately.

"Okay...no going off to confront him," David relented. Snow smiled and kissed him again.

"That's too bad...because I would promise you a horrible time if you did," a voice said, as the evil doctor appeared before them.

"Without the guaranteed power of your chalice...I am confident I would have captured you and then I would have probably thrown you to the wolves. The riff raff here on the island would have delighted in torturing the illustrious Prince Charming," Jekyll hissed. Bobby picked up a rock from the ground and tossed it at the doctor and wasn't surprised when it went right through him.

"Big words from a coward that has to send his hologram to taunt us," Bobby said.

"I'd watch your tongue, boy," the doctor hissed.

"Come make me, you spineless worm!" he taunted back.

"I was just a baby when you started terrorizing my parents, but even then, I thwarted you and I keep thwarting you. Everything you've tried...I'm immune to and if you think I won't keep stopping you, then you aren't as smart as you boast," Bobby said.

"My, my...strong words, brat. Such fire and spirit...much like your lovely mother," Jekyll replied.

"Whatever, whack job...because I guarantee that you'll never get through us or my Dad to get to her. But if you're stupid enough to keep trying, then we'll be happy to end you and for good this time," Bobby countered and Jekyll growled.

"We'll see, young one. But don't underestimate the horror I have in mind for your father and any of you that get in my way," he warned.

"Don't you threaten my husband or my babies," Snow hissed, as she stepped forward and put her hands on Bobby's shoulders.

"You will not keep denying me, fairest Snow...I will get what I want," he assured her.

"The only thing you're going to get is more holes in you at the end of my sword and this time, I'll make sure you don't recover," David said, as he held his sword out and it glowed with power.

"We shall see, Prince Charming…" Jekyll replied, as his hologram faded and they relaxed a bit, as the others joined them.

"We have got to figure out a way to root out that parasite. Death isn't enough…" Regina said.

"Agreed...we must give him the same treatment we gave the blue flea," Rumple agreed.

"We should probably call it a night though. We're supposed to leave for DC tomorrow," Snow said.

"There's one thing I'm confused about," Elsa said.

"Just one?" Leo muttered and she elbowed him lightly.

"My mother had sisters...were they Northuldra too? Wouldn't they have to be?" Elsa asked.

"Hey yeah...Ingrid and what was the other one?" Emma asked.

"Helga and my mother went by Gerda to the Arendelle people. Only around us did my father ever call her Iduna. She told us it was her middle name," Elsa replied.

"Yes...your mother's sisters. And Gerda was the Arendelle name she adopted to hide her true heritage. As for Ingrid and Helga...yes, they were Northuldra too, though only your mother and Ingrid had magic. They were away on that fateful day," Athena explained.

"Ingrid was so furious and ready to destroy Arendelle as a whole in a fury. Your parents pleaded with the Rock Trolls for help. Grand Pabbie obliged and was able to use a powerful memory spell on Ingrid and Helga. From that day, they thought themselves of Arendelle. But as you know, it didn't take away Ingrid's powers and she felt slighted by their insistence that she conceal her powers. She mistook that as fear from them and she resented them," Athena continued.

"But they weren't scared of her...they were scared for her," Elsa realized. The Goddess nodded.

"And for you. Your father had watched his own father kill someone out of fear of magic and he didn't want that for you. Trying to take away your powers by gaining the Sorcerer's hat was wrong...but it came from a place of love. Not fear," Athena said.

"They...they were never scared of me," she realized and Leo put his arm around her, knowing how much of a relief that had to be for her. Athena nodded.

"Well...now that we've subverted another crisis for the moment, I say we get some sleep. Especially since some of us are leaving for Washington tomorrow," Aphrodite suggested. Snow and David joined hands. They kissed their older children goodnight, while their two youngest went home with them.

After seeing the kids off to bed, they retired themselves and started getting ready for bed.

"I'm sorry…" David said, as he discarded his shirt.

"For what, baby?" she asked, as she sat on the bed, pulling off her leggings.

"For being a hothead and nearly barreling into what would have probably caused a really bad situation," he replied.

"You wanted to end this...end his threat to our family. You don't ever have to apologize for that. Besides, I was ready to confront him myself. The thought of him hurting one more person, especially someone I love, over me...I can't take that," she said, as he pulled her into his arms.

"I'm not letting you sacrifice yourself...we'll beat him. Our kids were right...he'd be dead if he was willing to face us on a level playing ground," he said. She smiled.

"They are...in a fair battle, he doesn't stand a chance against you," she replied, as she got up on her knees on the bed and slipped her arms around his neck. Their lips met in a tender kiss that quickly grew in passion and heat, until their lips were dueling with passionate, smoldering fervor.

"Come on handsome...let's make some magic," she purred. He smirked and lowered the lights and let their passion consume them fully.

~*~

Bobby tossed and turned in his bed in the early hours of the morning. Normally, he was a very sound sleeper. But on this night, dreams assaulted his subconscious. But these dreams seemed to be prophetic and a warning of what was to come if they did not stop the growing threat of one King Runeard and the imbalance of the elements.

~*~

Bobby opened his eyes and found a barren plain before him. Behind him was his parent's castle and he realized the barren plain was supposed to be their garden. However, now it was a dead landscape of dried up dirt, void of any life whatsoever. He slowly walked along the deadened ground and found nothing but devastation before him. The entire Enchanted Forest was dead now. He felt sick to his stomach, as he saw that all the animals, people, and fairies alike were also dead.

"You have failed, young one…" a deep voice said, as he turned to find a man there. He resembled the image he had seen of King Runeard, except this man's skin was ashen gray; dead like everything around them. But he nearly choked in fear and anguish, as he saw his family laying at his feet, or rather their bodies. His parents, his brother, and his sisters...dead. Their skin was ashen gray, like life had been sucked out of them. The chalice lay gray and broken between his parents, who still held each other, even in death.

"What...what have you done?" Bobby demanded to know.

"The elements rage as long as I am free. I am Void...and no life can survive around me for long. You were supposed to balance the elements...only the unification of them through you can stop something like me," he said.

"This is a dream...which means this isn't happening. I will defeat you," Bobby replied. Runeard smirked.

"Spoken just like your father...before I drained every last bit of life from him while your mother screamed. She almost seemed relieved when I did the same to her," he goaded. Bobby's eyes flashed peridot green, as vines emerged from the ground and wrapped around the scourge. But he laughed and the vines died upon touching him and withered to dust.

"You'll have to do better than that, boy...or this…" he said, gesturing with his arms to the landscape around them.

"This is the future…" he warned, as Runeard hand wrapped around his neck and things went black.

~*~

Bobby shot up in bed with a start and touched his neck. He could still feel Runeard's clammy hand around his neck and the life draining from him. He breathed and contemplated the dream. Was it just a nightmare? Or was it a vision of a possible future? He didn't know, but one thing was certain; he needed to talk to someone else that was known for having visions of the future. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand. It was almost four in the morning and he knew this person also happened to be a very early riser.

"Mr. Gold...are you up?" he texted and then waited a few beats. He was relieved when it looked like he was typing back.

"You know me, my boy...I don't sleep much past the witching hour," Gold responded.

"I think...I had a vision of the future and it wasn't good. Can we talk?" he asked.

"I'll put the tea on for me and the cocoa for you," Gold answered. Bobby sighed in relief, as he threw his clothes on and used his magic. He disappeared in a poof of peridot colored smoke.

~*~

"So once again...Snow and Charming have delegated the saving of our Kingdoms to that of one of their brats. Apparently this time, our collective fate rests upon a fourteen-year-old that's still navigating the challenges of puberty. But sure, none of us should be at all worried. Well done, as usual, truest loves. For more hardcore, unfiltered news and commentary, you can follow me on the Looking Glass, the United Realms premier social media network," Goldie reported, as her latest media blurb ended and she stepped off the set.

"Where is my latte?" she demanded from the assistant she had hired. The poor girl looked nervous and rightly so, as Goldie spit it out all over her and tossed the cup against the wall, sending the hot liquid everywhere.

"I told you none of that diner swill! Get me real coffee!" she demanded. The crying girl scampered off and she stormed into her dressing room.

"Where did you find that urchin?" she asked.

"Fidget grabbed her and her father on his latest trip to Storybrooke. Jekyll requested an assistant and her father, Hiram Flaversham, is one of the best engineers at the University," Grimm said.

"Fidget?" she asked, as he gestured to the creepy, peg- legged man, hobbling around.

"I swear...this island is full of the scumbag freaks," she replied. He smirked.

"True...but when it comes to thieving scum, this island has the best. And Snow White is the one that injured him and caused him to lose his leg, so he has plenty of an axe to grind with her," he said.

"That makes a lot of us," Goldie replied, as she checked her phone.

"So...what do you make of this new guy?" she asked.

"He's interesting and I love his power...as dangerous as it is. I'm already working on an article though. When the Land Without Magic finds out there is someone that can do what he does and that he might be a threat to them...it will spark plenty of controversy and fear," he replied. She smirked.

"Oh, I love a good hit piece," she said, as she decided to skip the coffee and pour herself some of the expensive wine that was in her dressing room.

"So...what's your take on this King?" she asked. He shrugged.

"He seems like he'll be a formidable enemy and unlike the doctor, he doesn't care if Snow White ends up as collateral damage," Grimm replied.

"Then I should get along swimmingly with him, though I'm tired of having to rely on others with powers to wreak havoc. I'd rather just do it myself," Goldie said.

"Then we need that precious blood of the truest loves. With it, I can write anything I want for us," Grimm replied. She smirked.

"Do you have some sort of plan?" she asked.

"As a matter of fact...I do," he replied.

~*~

Jekyll seethed, as the hologram projection ended and he glared at his new assistant.

"Your hologram technology is quite impressive. Fidget was correct that you would make a decent assistant for me," Jekyll said.

"I have no desire to help you achieve any of your evil schemes," Hiram said bravely, but then coward, as the mad scientist lashed at him with one of his fiery whips, scorching the all behind him.

"And unless you'd rather I take my anger out on your spawn...you'll continue to do my bidding," Jekyll warned.

"And what is it that you need an engineer for? You're supposedly a brilliant mind," Hiram shot back.

"Indeed I am...but like I said, you are a gifted engineer," he said, as he presented a pair of gloves to him.

"I created a pair of magical gloves like this that allowed Rodmilla Tremaine to use magic. But this pair has another purpose...or it will once you apply your expertise," Jekyll explained.

"What do you want me to do with these infernal things?" Hiram asked.

"I want them to use the same principles as Rodmilla's, only these will be specifically for ripping hearts," he revealed.

"You...you want to rip hearts from people with magic?" he asked.

"Yes…you see, if I am to make Snow White mine, then I need the means to defeat all the obstacles in my way. And inside a magical heart exists a star gem. If I could gain the star gems of her mouthy brats and force them to be my soldiers...then I would control the elements and nothing could stand in my way," Jekyll said, as he showed him a hologram of the star gems he knew existed inside of the Charming children.

"Then I will crush her husband myself and they will nary lift a finger to stop me," he added.

"I will not be a part of such evil!" he said, horrified by the level of horror that Jekyll was willing to go to.

"You will...or perhaps I will use the much cruder method I have for extracting hearts on your daughter!" Jekyll threatened.

"No...don't hurt Olivia. I'll do the work for you...but then you'll let us go!" Hiram demanded.

"Once these gloves do what I want...I'll have no use for either of you," Jekyll replied, as the other man went to work in reluctance.

~*~

Bobby appeared in Mr. Gold's basement potions lab and found him reading a spell book and sipping tea. There was a cocoa waiting for him.

"So...a dream?" Gold asked.

"More like a nightmare," he replied with a shudder and took a drink of his cocoa.

"But you think it's more...because a nightmare wouldn't bring you to me. Your parents comfort a nightmare, like Belle and I comfort Gideon. So...you must believe this is more," Gold surmised.

"I've never really had visions before…" Bobby said.

"Not in the traditional sense...no. But you were a baby when you projected yourself into the netherworld to protect your mother. Apollo and Artemis contacted you in the same netherworld," he said.

"And…Princess Serenity earlier," he added. He nodded curtly.

"Tell me about this nightmare," Gold requested.

"Uh well...it was in my parents courtyard, except the whole garden was dead, thanks to Runeard. But he was calling himself something else," Bobby replied.

"Most villains develop an alter ego of some kind," Gold commented. He nodded.

"He called himself Void...and he sucked the life out of everything he touched," Bobby said, as he swallowed thickly.

"Including my family," he added.

"Ah...and you are his polar opposite. The chosen bearer of the earth element and thus all elements," Gold said.

"Do...you think it was a vision of what is to come?" he asked.

"No...because the future is always in motion. Every time I thought I was certain of a future event, there was always something I was not seeing," Gold replied.

"For example, I saw your parents' true love as the key to bringing magic to a land without and that your sister would break the curse. But yet, I could not see that Belle was really alive," he said.

"I saw that I would find my son, but could not see that he would have a child with your sister," he added.

"The future is never what it seems, even if you are a seer. No, your nightmare was more of a warning. If anything, it gives us an advantage. You saw Runeard and how dangerous he really is without us first experiencing it, at least beyond the storms we have seen thus far," Gold said.

"If he can really do what he can in your nightmare...then out of control storms are just the tip of our problem," he said.

"So you think something showed me what he could do so I can stop him before he does it," Bobby replied.

"Yes...which is a far more useful gift than being a seer," Gold said.

"So what do we do now?" Bobby asked.

"You go home and tell your family about this. Someone like him will not confine himself to Pleasure Island for long and when he surfaces, we will be ready," Gold replied. Bobby nodded.

"Thanks Mr. Gold," he said.

"Anytime, my boy," he replied, as the teen used his magic to take himself home. Gold proceeded to go upstairs, for he knew Belle would be up soon and would be very interested to know about Bobby's revelation.

~*~

"You realize how risky this is?" the woman said, as she looked out her hotel room and to the National Mall below.

"It is...but for the chance to possess some of these treasures...it's a chance that must be taken," the man replied. They were two heads of the most powerful families in the world. He was Charles Ozman, one of the heads of the most powerful banks in the world and she was Ginger Reeves, of the affluent Reeves family that had leadership positions in many banks, hospital boards, and Universities.

"These rumored objects, if real, are worthless without a magical source. Are you sure they'll come?" she asked.

"Positive. They have made it known that they are going after us and we'll be ready to counter them when we get our hands on those treasures," he replied.

"Then...the sky's the limit to our power," she said.

~*~

"So...the attire for this thing is formal, as we expected," Aphrodite said, as they were in the war room, gaming out the evening.

"Of course...none of these people wear jeans and drink anything other than champagne," David quipped.

"You are such a farm boy," James teased.

"And proud of it," David countered, as Snow and Aphrodite shared an amused smile at their husbands and their bickering.

"Mom! Dad! I need to tell you something," Bobby said, as he came into the war room.

"Well good morning, sleepy head. I was beginning to wonder if you were going to get up before noon," Snow said.

"Yeah…I kind of fell asleep, because I had a nightmare last night. Except I think it was more than just a nightmare and so does Mr. Gold," he explained.

"What do you mean?" David asked.

"It was about King Runeard...and I think he might be more dangerous than we think," Bobby replied.

"Then you think your dream was more of a vision," Aphrodite said. He nodded.

"He has his own element...of sorts," Bobby replied.

"What does that mean?" James asked.

"It's hard to explain...do you think you can use your magic to help me describe it?" he asked his Aunt. She nodded and took his hands, concentrating on his thoughts. A life-like hologram projection of his thoughts came alive before them and they saw the horror for themselves.

"He...he did this?" Snow asked. Bobby nodded.

"He's the antithesis of the elements...he's…" Aphrodite said, as she tried to find the word.

"He called himself the Void," Bobby replied.

"Athena didn't mention anything about him having powers other than making the elements go haywire," David said.

"Which means this is likely something that happened while he was banished," Aphrodite replied.

"How do we defeat someone that can kill us with a touch?" Snow wondered.

"Mr. Gold is pretty sure my powers are the answer, because I have the earth element," Bobby said. Snow closed her eyes and sighed.

"You are not facing this alone, sweetheart," she said. He smiled.

"I know, Mom and I'm still going to DC with you and Dad. We can be back here in a second if we need to be," Bobby said.

"We can...and I've just received some updated Intel. This is one engagement we can't afford to miss," the Major interjected, as she came into the room.

"Why is that?" Snow asked.

"Because four other heads of the family will be joining Callista Stavros at this event," Patrocia announced.

"Wait...so you're saying we have an opportunity to take down five of these snakes at once?" David questioned.

"Exactly," she replied.

"That's a lot of snakes though. I think we better have a backup team on standby if needed," James said. They nodded in agreement.

"Wait...why so many in one public place? Didn't you say they avoid public appearances, especially together?" Snow asked.

"Yes...which means there must be a very good reason they are together and though I don't know what it is, we need to stop whatever it is they have planned," Patricia replied.

"And if we stop five of them at once, that means only five will remain," David said. She nodded.

"Then we should get ready to go...and be prepared for anything," Snow said. They nodded in agreement and continued to prepare.

~*~

Fandral dismounted his horse, following his morning rounds and observed his Knights training in the Courtyard. It was a normal morning in Andresia and thankfully quiet for the moment. Zorro arrived back from his patrol as well and dismounted, before siding up to Fandral.

"The perimeter is secure. No sign of that General Mendoza, but I doubt he has given up on breaching our borders," Zorro reported.

"I do not doubt it one bit...but with the event in Washington tonight, I am almost certain that he will be there; even if only to observe things from the shadows," Fandral said.

"Then you think this General may be the most dangerous of all these heads?" Zorro questioned.

"The Major was clear that he has military might behind him," he said.

"But we both know that you could easily take on an army of mortals without breaking a sweat. By yourself," Zorro reminded him.

"That is likely true...but these are merely soldiers following a commander, much like my own ranks. I would not wish to harm those that are either deceived or blindly following orders of an evil general," he said. Zorro nodded.

"Quite true...and his history may go back the furthest, being that his ancestor betrayed the Dragon King," he mentioned.

"Very much so, though we know that Clayton's son's mother is now one of these heads. It's unpredictable how she fits into this, but he claimed she has a prominent family line as well," Fandral said.

"Well…I say we are the logical choices to join the mission when they face Mendoza. They'll need a couple of military minds like us," Zorro replied. Fandral smiled.

"I am sure David will consult us for that mission surely," he agreed, as they made their way into the castle and parted ways, as the Asgardian found his way to his wife in the library. She was a vision, as usual, even in a simple house dress and his heart swelled, as he spotted the tiny swell in her abdomen.

"Good morning, my handsome warrior," she said, as she looked up from her book.

"Good morning, my beautiful angel," he replied, as he leaned down and kissed her lips.

"What are you reading today?" he asked curiously, as he squeezed into the chair with her.

"More of the fascinating history surrounding the Dragon King and Queen. I am reading about their advisor, Tao Lang Xi and his history as a member of the original tribe of Mu," she replied.

"He had a complicated history with the original General Mendoza, didn't he?" Fandral asked.

"Mmm...very much so. Antionio De Mendoza was a gifted Navigator and originally led Esteban, the Dragon King, to the Island of Mu. He wanted to massacre the people to gain the secrets of Cibola, but quickly realized that the secrets had little to do with the people and everything to do with the truest loves, which he had learned about from the Claytons, of course," she explained.

"And Tao became their adviser when he realized they could open the gates of Cibola?" he asked. She nodded.

"That wasn't all. He relinquished the sacred golden jar of his people to them. The legend was that the jar was the key to controlling the limitless supply of solar energy, which can be deployed from the tallest golden tower in Cibola," she said.

"A Solar reactor?" he asked. She nodded.

"That's what it sounds like...no wonder so many wanted to find it. It was more than just gold," she replied.

"So it seems...an endless supply of clean energy. But what would happen if used without this jar?" he asked.

"Disaster…" she said, as she showed him the next page, which depicted the consequences of using the power without the control mechanism," she said, as she showed him a drawing of what looked like a huge explosion.

"What happened to the jar? I don't recall there being any object like that in the Atlantis museum," he said.

"No one knows. Tao took it with him when he left home and it's not written what became of it," she replied.

"Very mysterious...you're right, it's a very fascinating story," he agreed, as he pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"My Queen...a Mr. Hyde is requesting an audience with Your Majesties," Bianca said, as she bowed to them curtly.

"Tell him we'll be right there," Rose said, as they stood up and joined hands, before they walked to the atrium.

"Hello Hyde," Rose said, as the tall man bowed curtly to her. She knew he still had feelings for her and his eyes always betrayed that, but she would never have to fear him, for he was always a gentleman. Unlike Jekyll, he had accepted that her heart belonged to Fandral and respectfully admired her from afar.

"I apologize for interrupting your day, but I am afraid I come at the behest of a colleague of mine," Hyde explained.

"Has something happened?" Fandral asked.

"Well…I'm not sure and with everything going on, the Sheriff's department has its hands full. So I elected to come request help from you instead," Hyde replied.

"Happy to help. What's the trouble?" Fandral asked.

"It's one of my colleagues. His name is Hiram Flaversham. He is a very gifted engineer and teaches at the University with me," Hyde replied, as he showed them a picture of him and a girl that was probably around Bobby's age.

"That's his daughter Olivia and they are both missing," he said in concern.

"Missing?" Rose asked in concern. He nodded.

"Since yesterday morning...and it's not like Hiram not to show up. If there was a reason he needed to miss work, he would call and his daughter did not show at school either," he replied.

"You care for them," Rose said. He nodded.

"Hiram has become a very good friend and Olivia is like a niece to me now. I am very worried," Hyde replied.

"Leave it to me and Zorro. We will investigate immediately and find them," Fandral assured.

"Thank you," Hyde said gratefully.

~*~

"We'll be fine, Mom," Emma assured, as she and Snow shared a hug.

"I know...but if things get out of hand or any storms break out, call us right away," she said.

"We will, but you do the same. If things get out of hand...call us in for backup," Leo said.

"Don't worry...we're not going to take any chances," David said, as he hugged them too. They were already dressed in their formal wear, with Snow in a white evening gown. David and James donned a pair of tuxes, while Aphrodite wore a reddish orange evening gown. Bobby wore a tux, complete with complaints as well and Patricia wore a pantsuit. Rumple and Regina were joining them on this one as well for extra firepower. Rumple refused to wear a tux and instead wore his usual suit and Regina wore a black evening gown. Finally, Natalie was also joining him, along with Xander and Thalia.

"Are you sure you're up to this? You're getting further along," David said worriedly.

"That's why my mom and our dad are coming, just in case. Besides, an exhibit full of supposedly mystical treasures? I have to see this," Natalie replied.

"Okay...just stay close," he said. She and Snow shared a smile.

"You were right...he is way overprotective," Natalie said.

"Yeah...but it's adorable," Snow replied in a dreamy tone.

"And you are his baby sister...get used to it," she added, as she joined her husband and they created a portal. With that, the current team walked through, while the others stayed behind on standby...

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