#but got terrified halfway through and couldn’t continue. That’s when Snow found it and after Marrow asked him to help

[parkersbliss]

Reality | P. Parker

Pairing: Peter Parker X Female, Romanoff reader

Warnings: Mysterio, Mysterio, sad Peter, Peter getting hit by a train, Mysterio mentally abusing reader, just Mysterio

Type: angst??

A/N: It’s been months ya’ll I’m so sorry. This was supposed to be a prologue to Fake, but I got carried away. First post of 2020!

WC: 2,000<

Summary: Mysterio knows what he wants, but so do you and Peter.

Tagged: @theolwebshooter @thegirlwiththeimpala

If you want to be tagged see here

Masterlist

The Europe trip was supposed to be fun and relaxing, but instead, it was chaotic and quite terrifying. Your little trip to Paris ended up being a trip to Prague during the festival of lights, in which Peter was on a classified mission (that ended up being fake) to stop a fire monster. Of course, when your boyfriend sneaks out of the opera hours you were going to follow him. And not because you were scared for him, quite the opposite. You knew Peter was doing Superhero stuff and you wanted in. You had been off duty while grieving for your mom, but now it was time to jump back into battle. Something to at least distract you from the pain of loss. Quietly you followed Peter, your footsteps fell silently as snow.

“Peter,” You whisper when he reaches the festival.

“(Y/N)! Wh- what are you doing? You should’ve stayed in the opera house where it’s safe.”

“What’s going on?”

"I-“

You cross your arms and give Peter the stare, the one your mother taught you. She always said it drove the boys (and girls) mad, "Peter."

He sighs, muttering something into his earpiece. "Do you remember the water monster in Venice?”

“Yeah…” You raise your eyebrows in speculation, was this attack related to that one? As if Peter read your mind he opened his mouth and said, “They’re expecting another one here, the worse of all, fire. And I’m on duty to try and stop it."

"Count me in." Peter scratches the back of his neck, "Babe…” Someone says something into his earpiece and he hands it to you.

“Agent Romanoff, glad to see you back.”

“Director Fury, good to be back.”

He laughs in the back, “let’s get this show on the road then.”

+ + +

“Night Monkey, huh?” You tease Peter.

He blushes, “Ned came up with it not me!”

You grab Peter’s hand in yours, smiling up at him.

“Ew physical affection,” Beck jokes, his glass of alcohol in his hand.

You stick your tongue out at him, sipping from you and Peter’s orange juice.

“You guys love each other don’t you?” He questions.

Peter squeezes your hand, “yeah we do."

Beck smiles from the rim of his glass, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. You figured it was because it reminded him of his love. The one he couldn’t save. His family.

"I was devastated when my mom died,” You said in hopes of relating to Beck. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye, one minute she was telling me how proud she was of me and that she loved Peter. The next, I was plunged into battle looking for her. As I was fighting I brushed it off and figured she was here and that between everyone I would never find her.” You swirl the orange juice in the glass, staring down at it. The memories still too vivid. Your eyes began to water, “When Tony died, I thought for sure I would find her there. She would mourn for him, but when I got there she wasn’t. I ran to Tony and he just-” the tears slowly rolled down your cheeks as you flashback to that moment.

“Mom!” You shouted desperately. “Mom?” Throughout the whole battle, you hadn’t found her, of course with all the heroes that thought was next to impossible. She could’ve changed her costume too, five years. You didn’t know what she looked like. Chaos swirled around you like fog in the morning. Then, there was silence. You turned around to see Uncle Tony on the ground. Everyone was gathering around, kneeling by his side. Your mother would be there for sure. However, when you got there with Peter, Tony only had a few minutes left. You stood behind Peter as he broke down. A hand was placed on your shoulder, you spun around so fast thinking it was your mom. Instead, you came face to face with your godfather, the same look as everyone else.

“Hey, sunshine,” Clint said.

"where is she?“

”(Y/N)-“

"Where is she, Clint?! She’s my mother!" The look on his face says it all as you collapse into his arms sobbing.

Clint holds you to his chest as you cry. "She sacrificed herself for us,” He said quietly. “I fought her till the end, but your mother beat me to it. She was always the better one of us.“

Clint pulls out a letter from his suit, "open it when you’re ready."

When MJ figured out that Peter was spiderman, she also learned that Mysterio was no mystery, but a liar. You and Peter instantly freaked out, you both had agreed on giving Beck one of the most advanced pieces of technology ever, lord knows what he was planning on doing.

"We have to tell Fury,” Peter said, zipping up his suit.

“No shit,” You reply, snapping on your mother’s wrist cuffs.

“MJ, Ned, you can’t tell anyone this,” Peter warned, halfway out the window.

“You both are already in danger being involved with both of us, so please stay low."

They both nod as they watch Peter grab you in his arms and swing-out the window, you wave at them over Peter’s shoulder. As soon as you arrived in Berlin, Fury picked you up and drove you to the headquarters. Both of you were frantically explaining what Beck had done and that there was little time left before he advanced. Just as Fury started putting together a plan, the room begins to disintegrate.

"Mysterio,” You whisper, looking around for him. Out of nowhere, Peter tackles you to the ground as a drone fires at you, it hits Fury in the chest and you scream. Peter stands up, checking for him when the drone shoots him and he goes falling.

"PETER!”

Your reality begins to shatter as Mysterio’s drones build an illusion.

"You know, neither of you had to die,” Beck’s voice sounds. “really, if Peter kept his mouth shut I wouldn’t have had to kill him. And if hadn’t introduced you, the love of his life. Daughter of the famous Black Widow, you’d still be on your trip to London.”

"No.”

He laughs, "it didn’t have to be this way."

The room faults and you’re suddenly back at Stark Tower in the training rooms. The smell of sweat clouding your senses.

"Your mom never escaped the Russians did she?”

The room is suddenly swamped with bright red blood, like your mom’s hair and the nefarious red room she was trained in. The blood flows in, knocking you off your feet with the force. You shriek as you fall back into it, your skin becoming that of a tomato. You try to stand, but keep slipping. More and more rushes in, until you’re drowning in it with no clear direction of up.

"HELP ME!”

Peter would recognize that voice anywhere, "where is she?!”

Mysterio laughs, projecting the image of you drowning in blood.

Peter bangs on the glass until it shatters, breaking reality as the shards rain down on him, but not one speckle of blood. He’s suddenly facing himself.

You’re yanked from the liquid by a forceful hand, tugging at your hair and thrusting you onto the hard concrete, as you’re thrown down a sound like shattered glass resounds through the room and you continue to fall. You land in the snow, bright red snow now. You scramble out of it, slipping as it melts. You begin to sink, there’s nothing to grab onto. When suddenly a hand appears, the same gloved hand of your boyfriend, Peter. It’s just out of your reach when you finally get the strength to grab it, he pulls you up. The room changed again on your on one of Tony’s jets. Peter looks at you and pushes you off the jet.

Your cries fall silent as the wind drowns them out. You land in front of a mirror, your hair is the color of your moms, your black suit stained red, lips dipped in blood.

“You were so beautiful,” Your mother coos from behind you. “but your beauty will fade.”

“Mom!”

Natasha draws out a knife, her finger dances dangerously on the edge. The fantasy ends when an arrow whisks past your ear, straight into the mirror where your heart is. Except, it’s not you anymore. It’s Peter, blood soaking through his suit. He falls to his knees as blood pours out of his mouth, you scream looking for him. The room is pitch black, the mirror only showing Peter.

“Stop it!! Stop it!!” You shout, banging on the mirror, a hand grabs you and pulls you through, it’s Peter’s.

“If you were brave enough, we would all still be here.”

“that’s not true.”

Peter fades away and Natasha appears grabbing your chin tightly, “you know it is.”

The ground opens up and she falls through, you dive after her and slam down on the concrete. Dazed, you stare blankly at the sky waiting for another trick. There’s a loud bang beside you, and you see Peter roll of a car.

“Peter.”

“(Y/N)?” He starts running toward your broken form, just as he’s about to get there the drones come back and his sense of direction is lost, but to you, he runs up and picks you up in his arms. Peter sets you down, an arm around you. And yet, you didn’t feel safe. You squirm against him and he holds you tighter.

“Let go of me, Beck.”

“The show’s just opening.”

The real Peter runs into the room, “It’s just an illusion.”

“It is Peter?”

“I-”

“You don’t know the difference, do you?” Beck’s hold on you become tighter, you let out a gasp.

“Stop it,” Peter warns, aiming a gloved hand at him.

Beck just laughs, you take the opportunity and kick the back of his knees, he doubles over and you use the chance to throw him over your shoulder.

“(Y/N)? It is you!” Peter cries, running to you.

“I control reality.”

“NO!"

As if on cue, the world shifts one more time and you’re back in your room. Sunlight filtering through the windows, your bed nicely made. A few stuffed animals sitting on it. You’re home. Something bangs in your desk drawer, curious you walk toward the source. The banging gets louder until the desk is shaking, you open the drawer and a letter flings out. The envelope is black with a red seal, where it now has small teeth. The letter grows in size, filling up the whole room as you cower in the far corner.

That damn letter. Your bedroom becomes encased in black gloom, the ground under your feet begins to tremble. You look down as small words start to appear, first your name at the top. It’s the letter your mom wrote to you. Panic sweeps through your veins and you begin to run, words ripple under your feet as you try to escape the inevitable. The paper begins to curl, now chasing you like a wave, every five seconds you turn around, only to see it get closer. The page chases you until the end, where you stumble and stare into the dark. A cloud of green forms at your feet when Mysterio appears.

"Please, stop,” You plead, you’re covered in blood, exhausted and scared for your life.

He laughs a hollow sound. Eyes glittering with hatred. He begins to walk toward you when shots are fired and he falls to his knees. Fury is limping behind him, you run up to him and he tosses his arm over your shoulder.

“Director, are you okay? Where’s Peter?”

Fury laughs, “I’m great.” His voice morphs into that of Becks. “Peter, not so much.”

Peter stumbles in front of you, slumping to his knees. Much like you if Beck didn’t possess such a strong grip. Beck begins to recite a monologue as Peter backs up slowly.

“Your girlfriend here, she didn’t have to die either. It pains me to have to do this.” Beck releases his grip as you fall to the ground, legs throbbing with pain and exhaustion.

“(Y/N)… Beck please, don’t, not to her.”

“Oh, you won’t have to see it.”

Peter’s pained expression changes to confusion and at that moment, the illusion drops and a train comes hurtling to Peter. You don’t even get to scream before he’s gone.

Beck turns to look at you, “you’re coming with me.”

[molanran]

again - huening kai

summary: even after coming home, he can’t deny old feelings.

word count: 3.1k

now playing: walking away - craig david & paradise - nct 127

notes: aged up characters

m/n felt his mouth go dry as he stared out of the window at the beautifully decorated house, sprinkles of snow dotting his vision, like snow angels falling. feeling the urge to feel the stinging south korean breeze against his face, he rolled down his window and was greeted with a soft push tickling his cheeks.

'it's good to be home after all this time, isn't it?' he thought to himself as he unbuckled his seatbelt and exited his car.

'yeah,' m/n thought happily. 'yeah, it is.'

--

"welcome home, m/n~" yeonjun greeted him with a large smile and a peck on the check. "how have you been?"

m/n smiled up at the older man, taking in his still young appearance and then moving his gaze towards everyone else who was busy decorating every inch of the large house with holly and wreaths and mistletoe.

it was the twenty-third of december and they still haven't decorated. usually, soobin would have insisted to start decorating the month before but even he seemed to have procrastinated in honor of the holidays.

"i'm fine, thanks, hyung," he answered. "how are you and soobin, hyung?"

"busy," yeonjun sighed, pulling away from him, putting a hand on his forehead and shaking it in disappointment. "there's been a lot of things happening recently and on top of that, work isn't letting down at all. i've only managed to get a few days off including new years and then i'm right back into it. not to mention only the outside of the house has been decorated and i've been rushing to buy all the things and when i finally have a moment of rest, i have to get ready for the party! when i see soobin, he better hide because i'm this close to punching him."

m/n gave a laugh, the feeling of familiarity making him comfortable. soobin would have greeted him first if he wasn't causing trouble with the others.

it's been a year since he's returned home for christmas, and honestly, it felt as if nothing has changed.

"m/n!"

but it has.

"kai!" m/n smiled up at his adorable friend who was waving at him from the top of the holly-clad stairs.

"how was jeju island?" kai asked as he hurried down the stairs. "how are you? are you staying for good?"

m/n could only beam at his younger friend, forcing himself to stay standing where he was, waiting for kai to fling his warm arms around him. usually, he would have met kai halfway up those stairs with a large smile on his face and tears practically pouring out of his eyes; but then again, should things have been like they were usually, he wouldn't have gone to jeju island for a year.

"it took you a while," m/n teased kai as the younger flung himself at him, resulting in both of them falling on the floor. "how've you been?"

kai listed off everything important that happened throughout the year as they walked upstairs, m/n stayed silent. he couldn't trust himself to say a word. kai was trying so hard to pretend that nothing happened between them a year ago and m/n was terrified that he would say something that would make them even more awkward. he didn't want any more uncomfortable emotions between himself and kai, it would only break them further apart.

"i managed to convince yeonjun-hyung to let us share a room again," kai said with slight nostalgia as they turned towards their room. "it took a lot but i put it back the way we both like it."

"you didn't have to," m/n managed to keep the bitterness out of his voice as he brushed his bangs from his eyes, walking past the door without sparing it a glance.

kai was silent and m/n turned to find that he stopped walking.

"you feel far away, hyung."

m/n stopped as well, clenching his fists tightly for a moment before raising his eyes to meet kai's strong gaze head-on.

"you're being stupid," he gave the younger a smile, loosening his fists and rubbing his nape nervously. "i just had a long flight and the food was awful."

he took a step towards kai and placed a soft hand on his shoulder.

"that reminds me," m/n spoke, pulling away quickly while they continued to walk along the length of the hallway. "how is taehyun?"

kai shrugged and muttered, "beomgyu finally confessed his feelings."

"they're finally together?!" m/n said in surprise, ignoring the nagging voice in his head to shut up.

"yeah," kai ran a hand through his locks of hair. "they got together around valentine's day. taehyun only reminds us of that every other day."

m/n let out a polite laugh as they continued to stroll around the large house, exchanging stories that happened during the year he spent on jeju island.

he had left for jeju the day after last year's christmas dinner, stating that he applied for and gotten a job working as a wedding planner's assistant. he personally didn't care for any job but after he had encountered jane and her passion for making other people's wedding a special day, he had decided that because he didn't have one of his own, he would support someone who found something they loved doing.

his life on the island was simple. it wasn't extravagant in any sense, and there were times he wished he was back home with everyone else.

"hey, m/n,"

m/n glanced towards soobin, the older smiling at him in delight.

"hey soobin, how have you been?"

after a quick exchange of hugs and greetings, soobin finally lets him go.

"where's kai?" his dark eyes glimmered. "you two would never go anywhere without the other, what changed?"

panic rose in his chest when kai came into view behind soobin. at first glance, kai looked emotionless but after a calculating moment, his expression turned into one of darkness, slowly seeping through his facade.

"kai?" m/n reached in the younger's direction, making soobin turn in surprise as well.

just as his fingers brushed against the younger's arm, kai tore away from him and ran down the hall, accidentally knocking over beomgyu who was trying to wrap tinsel around the tree. m/n followed him closely, sparing others a quick greeting, before following after kai's footsteps.

"m/n, what are you doing? is something the matter?"

m/n stopped and turned to find yeonjun standing behind him, a worried look on his face. he managed to spare a smile and replied quietly, "we're fine, hyung."

yeonjun shot him a look as if to say, 'do you really think you can lie to me?'

instead, the older let out a sigh and said briskly, "okay then. the party's about to start soon so go and get ready."

"yes hyung," m/n resigned as he started heading up to his shared room with kai. "i'll see you later."

--

m/n stood to the side, holding a glass of juice as he watched everyone interact with each other, multiple hugs and greetings being exchanged.

he sighed as he recalled last christmas when he felt like himself and happily interacted with everyone. now, he was being so falsely polite that he knew that he was getting some worried glances and concerned looks.

"m/n?"

m/n turned towards the voice, recognizing it immediately, and looks into the smiling eyes of one choi beomgyu.

"hey, beomgyu,"

"it is you!" beomgyu encompassed him in a hug before giving him a once over. "how are you?

'his smile's not fake anymore,' m/n looked at beomgyu in fascination while taehyun greeted him with a brief hug.

"look, beomgyu-hyung! cake!"

m/n laughed as taehyun dragged his boyfriend towards the dessert table, pouting when soobin glared at the both of them.

"hey ya, m/n~" soobin approached them, wrapping his arms around m/n's shoulders. "you guys are looking so grown up now, you kids are making me feel old."

"you are old," m/n shook his head with a grin, refraining himself from laughing. soobin looked insulted before knocking m/n's shoulder with his fist.

"you're older than me!"

--

m/n glanced in kai's direction, mildly surprised when he found his gaze returned. the younger's eyes were always a bright dark brown while his own always seemed to be dull. they were so different, but alike, balancing each other out despite the one year age difference. the others would say that sometimes they were the same person. but m/n has changed while he was on jeju, and those days are long gone now.

"hey, m/n!" yeonjun called out. "you have a call from a 'jane'."

m/n turned his attention towards his hyung and nodded before glancing back at kai to find that he, too, had reverted his attention back to something else. he sighed and stared after kai longingly before turning his attention back to yeonjun.

"thank you, hyung," m/n swallowed the lump in his throat and held the phone to his ear. "yeah?"

"m/n," jane sounded so distressed, she reverted to english. "i need you back here right away."

"jane, i just got here."

"i know and i'm sorry. but there's been a mixup with the caterers and the photographer just quit on us and the bakery won't get the cake done in time and-."

"i get it, it's fine." m/n sighed, sticking his free hand into his pocket as he glanced out of the window to see the snowflakes fall, one by one. "at least let me stay tonight and i'll be back by tomorrow's afternoon."

"i'm sorry, m/n," jane sighed.

"it's fine, love," m/n smiled, the pet name rolling from his tongue casually. "just be lucky you're one of my favorite people in the world."

"you're one of my mine too," jane's voice broke on the other side. "i'm happy that we're friends."

"me too." he smiled, moving away from the commotion towards a quieter part of the house.

"i promise that i'll even make you a home-cooked meal for christmas. i'll get nancy and hyebin to come out and nayoon and daisy too."

"nayoon did say that i would be around for christmas," m/n laughed as he remembered the redhead not giving him a hug when they dropped him off at the airport, instead, smiling and patting his shoulder like she was expecting him to come back. "looks like she got her wish."

"she's going to be full of 'i told you so's when you get back." they both laughed happily because they knew it was true.

"i'll get going, love you" m/n breathed.

"love you too, m/n. see you tomorrow."

they hung up and m/n clutched the phone tightly in his fist, the veins of his hand pulsing.

he absolutely loved working with jane, so much that they considered each other family. she had shown him around the town, taking him to various restaurants and shopping places, eventually introducing him to nancy, hyebin, nayoon, and daisy. they were his extended family and if the occasion would allow it, he'd love to bring them to seoul to meet his other family. his familiarity with jane eventually moved into him teaching her english, and her teaching him how to cook without burning the house down.

he had considered dating her, eventually beginning a relationship that ended up being too weird because it felt like they were kissing a sibling. this caused them to grow even closer to the point where they even shared a house together.

"m/n!"

he managed to snap himself out of his thoughts and smiled weekly at the younger.

"yeah, kai?"

"you have a girlfriend?"

m/n observed the panting kai and answered with a hesitant, "why?"

"why? because you didn't tell me!" kai placed an arm around his shoulders. m/n could only gaze at the younger's beaming face. "you should have brought her! i'm sure yeonjun-hyung would have loved to have people who weren't guys here!"

m/n felt something in his stomach pull at him. he wanted to be selfish about this. wasn't kai disappointed at all? didn't the fact make him feel sad, even just a little?

he stopped walking down, staring down at the clean floor he was standing on. being here in seoul, he actually felt lonely. sure, he had been heartbroken and left for jeju, but he never felt this alone before. he had been rejected by kai before, so why did kai's acceptance leave him feeling more hurt and upset than before?

"you don't care, kai?" m/n asked quietly, feeling his nails unconsciously dig into the palms of his hands. "that i have somebody else?"

kai stayed silent and m/n took that as the inevitable reply he didn't want to hear.

"well, of course not," m/n laughed bitterly, not daring to raise his eyes. "you have absolutely no reason to care, right?"

"m/n-hyung," kai spoke, but m/n didn't hear him.

dozens of emotions ran rapidly through his body. anguish. remorse. rage. especially rage. he was furious with himself, it was foolish of him to hope that kai cared. why does he continue to hope that the younger would still reserve a place in his heart? especially after that awful goodbye.

"excuse me," m/n excused himself from kai's company and ran blindly out of the room.

his stomach was shifting uncomfortably and his chest felt like it was on fire. he needed to get away, he needed fresh air.

where? where was it? where was that damned door?

"hyung!"

m/n swore he felt his arm almost tear out of his shoulder as a hand grasped it tightly, the grip strong enough to keep him from running away anymore. he lifted his gaze and realized that he was shedding tears he promised himself he would never shed again.

"m/n-hyung," kai murmured softly, surprised at the tears running down his cheeks.

"let go, kai," m/n was shaking. he promised himself long ago that he would never break in front of kai and what happened? he was pathetic and weak and didn't deserve to even hope to be someone loved by kai.

"m/n," kai repeated, his own sparkling eyes gazing warmly into m/n's dull ones.

"what?" m/n spat out impatiently. he wanted to leave. now.

"i love you,"

and then, his world stopped. his mind went blank and all he could hear were the words he dreamt of, echoing inside his mind. m/n didn't really know how it happened, but when he felt warm lips pressed against his own, his knees buckled. even though kai had quick reflexes, he wasn't strong enough to stop them from hitting the floor, landing on top of the older and pulling him into a tight embrace.

m/n quickly pulled away before he felt himself getting lost in kai's warmth.

"what? how? what are you talking about?" he exclaimed, holding his hand to his lips "you shouldn't say or do things you don't mean, kai!"

"who says i didn't mean them, hyung?" kai asked, looking slightly hurt and guilty.

"those weren't the words you said to me when i confessed to you last year!" m/n was stuck in an abyss of self-loathing, again. he didn't want to say those words, he didn't want to tell kai how glad he was the younger finally returned his feelings. he didn't want to hold kai and never let him go again. but his mouth was running on autopilot. "is this meant to be some kind of sick joke?"

"no," kai said, taking a step towards him. "i didn't realize it until you were gone."

m/n took a mirrored step back, trying to resist falling underneath all the feelings he kept buried.

"right," he let out a small tired laugh. "and i'm the wizard of oz. i can make you fall in love with me after i walk out that door."

"stop denying it, hyung" kai sounded angry and irritated, but most of all, tired. "do you think you're the only one who suffered this year?"

m/n was silent. the truth was, he really thought that he was the only one suffering. he never realized how difficult it must have been for kai to live his life alone when they originally planned to go through everything together. but now, they lead separate and somewhat happy lives, there isn't a place for him in the other's life now.

"thank you, kai," m/n let his defenses fall slightly, leaning against the wall behind him. "but i don't think i can-"

his sentence was cut off when kai lunged for him desperately as if trying to prevent those words from escaping his lips. he was knocked to the floor painfully, kai's entire weight pressing down on him. after a few painful moments, he managed to disconnect their lips as he hollered, "kai! it hurts!"

"don't leave me," kai murmured into the tan boy's neck. "i don't think i can take it if you leave me again, hyung!"

m/n felt his eyes water as he held the younger boy closer to his chest, savoring the warmth that kai offered. he wanted to stay with kai from now, but then he'd have to change his life again. could he do it?

"i have to go tomorrow, kai," m/n thought aloud, playing with the dark strands of kai's here.

"you can't leave me!" kai clung to him tightly. "i love you, hyung! i'm not too late, am i? i can't be!"

m/n chuckled lightly and continued to think aloud, "i'm leaving tomorrow because of a work emergency. after everything's taken care of, i'll be back. i promise."

"but-" kai stuttered. "but you'll be gone for christmas."

m/n could just imagine the pout playing on kai's lips, and smiled, "that's fine. something tells me i'll be here a lot next year."

"yeah," kai murmured to himself, sounding relieved. "yeah... hey, hyung?

"yeah?" m/n felt his eyes droop slightly.

"i love you, hyung."

"i love you too, kai."

--

"alright, i'll see everyone in a few weeks." m/n pulled his scarf tighter around his neck. "i'll be back right after this whole catastrophe is taken care of."

"say hello to jane for me." yeonjun smiled.

"i'll make sure to bring her back with me." m/n moved forward to give yeonjun a quick hug.

"bye m/n-hyung," kai looked and sounded slightly annoyed at the mention of jane.

"bye kai," m/n hugged him tightly, whispering in his ear, "this is the last christmas we'll be apart."

"promise?"

"promise."

[papipopsicle]

DOUBLE DARE

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Harrington!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Summary: In which Billy isn't 'King Billy fucking Hargrove' after the events at the Byers house, he's remorseful and in so much more pain than anyone ever seems to notice.

Song: Dizzy by Waterparks

Warnings: swearing, symptoms of PTSD

Words: 2.8K

feedback is always appreciated

Hawkins wasn't the kind of place a teen could take angsty strolls, look up at the sky for a while and all their life problems would be solved. Winter lasted until February, and summer started at the end of July, the months between left void of the joy of sun or snow. It was within this time that Y/N and Billy found solace in each other's chaotic existences.

They'd met a couple times before their relationship had a label, once not knowing each other, and the next, knowing too much.

The first was in the bitter winds of a November night. Y/N Harrington was forced to transfer to Hawkins High after fighting with another girl at Lakewood Academy over something nobody knew. She wasn't happy about it, after working her arse off for the last seventeen years of her life, only for the dream to be someone special and someone her parents would be proud of, to be ripped away from her.

Steve never made it any better, it was fine when he'd bring home random girls while their parents were away (which was more often than not), at least then her record player was loud enough to shut out the moans.

But Nancy had to come along and fuck everything up. Y/N was sickened at the idea of her brother dating her childhood best friend. That wasn't even the worst part though, the sick fucker had to go break his heart too.

Having Steve wallow in self pity for a few days was one thing, but hearing him cry himself to sleep days on end was entirely another.

She took her eye off the ball to make sure it was a sound that never met her ears again. And people at Lakewood began to talk, next thing she knew, Y/N was thrown out when Bethany Wyatt somehow fell unconscious and woke up with a black eye and busted lip.

Her older brother was surprisingly comforting, but the house felt all too suffocating, even without their never-to-be-seen parents around. It took six days for her to finally snap- being cooped up in the same four walls, sappy romcoms playing in the background whilst Steve tried to shrink her after getting an 'A' on his latest psychology paper.

"Leave me the fuck alone, for Christ's sake I'm not one of those kids you babysit! Go piss in Declan's cereal." Y/N roared, cartoon steam clouds escaping her ears.

She and Steve weren't close like some siblings, they didn't do hugs or say 'I love you'. They clashed and fought; the older boy thinking he's always right and that he knows everything, only setting off Y/N's explosive anger.

Steve groaned and stormed up the stairs, following his sister to her room, "His name's Dustin- fuck! You're so immature, you know that? Maybe I do need to babysit you, maybe then you'll learn to accept that you're sad about being kicked out of Lakewood, instead of biting my head off like a little bitch."

Y/N looked up at him incredulously, as if he'd just killed six puppies. She got up from her bed and stood right in front of him, pressing her index finger against his chest accusatory, "I'm not sad, dickwad, I'm furious because I defended myself against a bully and I'm the one who gets punished. It's not my fault she learnt to fight with her words and I fight with my fists. It's not my fault I'm like this, Steve!"

He stared at her for a few moments, watching his little sister's entire body move as her breathing became laboured and heavy.

She pushed past her brother and ran downstairs, "If I'm not back before you wake up, the demogorgon attacked me!"

"That's not-." Steve shouted, only to hear the front door slam shut halfway through his sentence, "funny."

It had been three months since Eleven had returned and saved Hawkins for the second time, Y/N knew they were no longer out there. She also knew it would strike a nerve in her brothers damaged soul and in that moment it was exactly what she wanted. The Harrington girl would probably regret it when she arrived back home in the early hours, knock on Steve's door and he'd tell her he was the one out of line and that it was okay. After all, he was the reason behind why she got expelled.

Y/N found herself running towards the school. In her short pleated skirt, fishnets and combat boots, the girl sprinted all the way through the woods until she found a clearing, and began walking on the side of the road. She should've been terrified to be out in the darkness all alone after the sights that had scarred her eyes, but it calmed her disturbed mind. Her problems faded to insignificance at the idea of being attacked by an inter-dimensional monster.

Her anger had dissipated after an hour or two of strolling back up and down, and she finally began to feel at ease in the cool midnight winds. That's when the sound of a turbocharged engine collapsed her serenity. She turned on her heel, letting the asphalt crunch under her foot as she squinted into the oncoming headlights.

Numbness had spread far enough over her body not to care whether the driver was Steve, a total stranger, or maybe even a creature from the upside down ready to kill her. Y/N shrugged it off and continued wandering, moving into the forest clearing so the muscle car didn't hit her if the driver wasn't paying enough attention.

Her steps became hurried as she heard the engine quieten, gaze kept forwards until the car picked up enough speed to pass her then completely stop. The air in her lungs felt trapped, feet planted to the broken up edge of the road.

"Hey!" A young yet deep male voice called, a mop of gentle dirty blonde curls appearing over the roof as the sound of the metal door opening and shutting cut away at the silence Y/N found herself stuck in. She didn't dare to move, eyes wide in a hazy mix of fear and intrigue.

He began moving around the car, closer to her frozen figure and stopping at what he deemed a safe distance. Billy looked her up and down, not in his usual 'I wanna fuck you' way towards the opposite sex; he checked over every inch of her exposed skin to make sure there were no signs of injury. When he finally met her eyes, he was stunned. They were the colour of milk chocolate edged with a deep forest-green. The two colors seemed to swirl together like moss creeping over rich soil.

Beautiful, he thought, not noticing the deep violet bags which sat beneath them. Y/N hated her eyes for them, yet they hadn't crossed his mind.

"Are you okay, Bambi?" Billy asked cautiously, taking a small step closer to her. His voice felt soft like a warm hug, yet she knew how it could easily be laced with venom. She'd seen his type before, knew how they could act so smooth then at the flick a switch be encased by rage if the word 'no' was introduced to them. She'd dated that type, been manipulated by their silver tongue and soft touch.

"I'm fine." Y/N's voice found the courage to speak, her body pushing past his and continuing its disassociated roam down the empty road ahead. She didn't feel like speaking to anyone, didn't feel like doing anything. Her mind was a wormhole of desolation and all she wanted was some peace away from home life and school life.

"If you want me to get in my car and carry on, I can. But, chances are you're feeling alone and don't-" Billy tried his best to do what he thought was right, he didn't have to stop when he saw her shivering figure at the side of the empty road. Hell, he probably shouldn't have.

"What you do doesn't really affect me, kid." Y/N snarled with no enthusiasm, her words falling hollow and getting lost in the wind.

The girl noticed he didn't speak after that, yet she hadn't heard the distinct sound of a car door opening and shutting either. She turned her head a fraction, not wanting to give him the attention he seemingly so desperately wanted from her but interested to know if she was about to get killed. Y/N rolled her eyes irritably as his taller figure appeared beside her own.

A few minutes passed as they ambled along the never ending barren road side by side without a word exchanged. Y/N felt oddly comfortable, more so than she did in that stupid private school or at home with Steve in constant seldom silence or rage filled bickering.

This silence was pleasant and held no secrets. Mostly due to the fact they were perfect strangers, no lingering expectations to be great or even good. Y/N stole another glance at him through the dark moonlight, his thick shoulder length hair appearing soft in its naturally curly state, and his flawlessly chiselled face hidden by plump cheeks and long eyelashes.

He could've committed some kind of atrocity for all she knew, but is company felt comforting and she wasn't one to judge.

"D'you just plan on following me around all night, then?" Y/N's voice sounded much more mellowed and velvety, her heartbeat no longer erratic in her ears allowing her mind some peace.

Billy sighed and rubbed a hand across his face before stuffing both into the pockets of his denim jacket to find some kind of warmth, "Haven't exactly planned that far ahead, gotta be honest with you. I don't know, I just needed to clear my head, and it seemed like you were doing the same."

"You could say that." Y/N scoffed, her numb mind somehow still managing to make her legs move forwards without stumbling. The biting cold air pricked at her paled skin, but she enjoyed the feeling. It was better than feeling nothing at all. "Fucked up shit happens a lot considering nothing happens around here."

"Did someone hurt you?" The words filled with unease tumbled from his mouth before he had the chance to catch them. Billy couldn't tell himself why he cared, why he was still walking along side this stranger in the dead of night on a Tuesday. Wednesday, now. But after the events at Mrs Byers' house, he had realised he'd become the monster he feared most- his father. If there was anything he could do to stop that, it was all he had done for the past three months.

Y/N smiled at her own stupid actions coming back to the forefront of her memories. She shook her head, still smiling, "That's too complicated to answer right now. Unfortunately, I managed to fuck things up pretty bad all on my own this time."

"I'm listening." Billy's eyes wandered across the unending tree border as he let the girl gather her thoughts and decide whether to indulge him or not.

She did.

"A couple weeks ago I overheard some skanks from my school trash talking my family; you see my brother slept with this girl named Rosie once ages ago so she put herself on a pedestal and thinks her words are gospel now. She was joking with her friends about how we're basically orphans. And then, this is the real kicker, she made up a rumour saying I'd got crabs from sleeping with the gym teacher. Which is hilarious because I'm a virgin still. So, I confronted her, she denied it, and I may or may not have blacked out and beat the living daylights out of her. Last week the dean decided to kick me out, so as of next Monday I'll be back at the shit show they call Hawkins High."

It felt easy to spill her thoughts to this oddly handsome person she'd never met before. Y/N felt like adding, 'oh and there's supernatural demons running around trying to take you to another dimension and kill you, but don't worry, our telekinetic friend saved us. Twice.' But she liked him enough in that moment not to want to scare him away.

"I would've hit her, too." Billy chuckled dryly, realising this girl was stronger than she seemed. His voice picked up after a beat of silence, "Billy, by the way."

"Y/N." She smiled her first warm, genuine smile for a rather long time, and it felt strange and satisfying all at once. Silence fell upon them once again after that, not feeling unpleasant in the slightest. They walked side by side with no destination in mind, Y/N's body bumping against his every now and again. The fist time was an accident, after that she kept on doing it to see the small smile pull at the corners of his lips from the contact.

Her combat boots halted on the torn up asphalt, kicking up small stones a few feet across the road. Without indication to her newfound friend, she switched direction and began walking back towards the other end of the endless road back towards Hawkins away from Lakewood.

"Alright then." Billy quirked an eyebrow at her odd behaviour as he followed and fell back into aimless step with her.

"Billy," she enjoyed the way his name rolled off her tongue, "could you drive me home?" She looked up at him with hope in her eyes, half feigned half real. Y/N was a shell of a person, broken and cold after what her eyes had witnessed, but she really liked the way her mind felt at ease around this boy with fluffy hair and muscular arms.

"Sure."

They made their way up to the car in silence, time running by much quicker with Y/N's spirits lifted. Billy unlocked his Camaro and the two settled into their seats, the heater almost instantly turned up to the highest setting.

"Where are you from, Billy?" Y/N couldn't help herself but ask, she had a knack for wanted to know everything and managing to know everything one way or another. She enjoyed the ever so slight accent in his voice, certainly not from these parts. His olive skin, probably once a lot more tanned and bright, gave it away too. Nobody here got enough vitamin D to look that pretty.

She told him to take the next turning, filling the space his answer was about to fall into. Y/N noticed the sounds of AC/DC playing quietly, one of her all time favourite songs. Steve would buy their albums and she'd buy Madonna when they visited the mall together, then swap when they got back to his car.

"California, my dad remarried and they both wanted a new start, so we ended up here." Billy answered calmly, voice tinged with anguish. The girl gave him another direction and told him to pull up two houses down from her own.

"If my brother saw someone giving me a lift home I think he'd murder you then me, so for everyone's safety it's best not to let him in on our little secret." Y/N grinned halfheartedly up at Billy, realising Steve wouldn't have gone to sleep yet and it was her fault. He was a real dick sometimes, but she wondered if he was the only person in the world to actually give a shit about her.

"Sounds like a real buzzkill." Billy joked with an unknown lightness to his tone, turning the ignition off and settling his gaze on her devastatingly brilliant eyes again.

Y/N nodded and leant over the centre console, wrapping her arms around Billy's much larger torso, he didn't react for a moment, not entirely sure what was happening, but he eventually returned the hug.

"Thanks for stopping earlier, tonight would've been a lot more lonely if you hadn't." Y/N unclasped her seatbelt and unlocked the door, sending the boy a truly heartfelt smile before they said goodbye to one another. He watched her walk down the road and disappear into her driveway, making sure she was safe before he left.

The Harrington girl quietly entered her house, taking off her rather muddy boots and making her way up to her brother's bedroom. She knocked quietly on his door out of politeness but didn't wait for an answer before opening it.

"Steve-" her voice was remorseful, this is how it always went.

He groaned a little from his work desk, eyes failing to stay open consistently, "I know, I'm sorry." Steve sent her a weak smile, knowing how hurt his little sister was at heart.

"Yeah," she sighed, "me too."

Y/N climbed into bed that night with the scent of Billy's strong cologne still clinging to her too, and it made her feel at ease. She slept well for the first time in a very long time, mind for once not plagued by creatures from another world.

Taglist:

@ilkaeliseb @florenceivy @annas-unicorun @astro-sweetheart @4everchrista @delicatelyherdreams @mautand @me-a-hopeless-romantic @buckysjuicyplums @lucyrocks86

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[shireness-says]

Echo

Summary: Sharing a heart has unexpected side effects - but maybe they can help say the things that need saying. A 4a heart-sharing AU, expanding upon a drabble by @welllpthisishappening. ~2.6K. Rated G. Also on AO3. 

~~~~~

A/N: Ok, so last week Laura wrote this snippet-y bit where Rumple crushed Killian’s heart so Emma gave him half of hers, and as it turns out, I have a LOT of thoughts about that. So, this is me running with it with her blessing. 

Super thanks to @snidgetsafan for fitting in beta duties between the end of the school year madness - you’re the best, babe. 

Without further ado, enjoy!

~~~~~

She doesn’t notice it right away, far too focused on the fact that Killian is able to hold her in his arms after being just a lifeless shell only moments before to process anything else. When she does notice, however, it’s impossible to ignore.

The thing is, she’s feeling too many things. Not in the usual way either, the way she’s treated her emotions for years where any feeling at all was one too many. No, these are emotions that shouldn’t be there in the first place. The enormous relief is foremost within her, but there’s hints of other things too - love and pride and confusion. Love isn’t that unusual - it’s something she’s been trying to ignore for longer than she’d care to admit - but the pride and confusion are out of place. She’s far too relieved to feel proud of herself right now even if that was in her nature, and she frankly has no reason to be confused. All of that mix of feelings somehow sits different within her too - more the impression of emotion than the actual thing. Like a shadow, maybe, or an echo. It’s almost like…

Oh.

Emma tenses as she realizes, and it sends a shadow-jolt of concern that’s not her own - concern for her - echoing through her veins. She probably should have realized something like this could happen when she gave Killian half of her own heart. Hell, she probably should have asked her parents about the side effects of their own heart-sharing once they’d remembered what her mom had done before the curse. In the moment though, there’d been no time to analyze and weigh all the pros and cons or consider every possible effect; there’d just been Killian, lying lifeless on the floor with his heart lying in ashes at his feet, and the deep conviction that he didn’t deserve that - that they didn’t deserve that, especially not when they’d both been starting to embrace the hope of their new relationship.

(She thinks that might have been part of the shock, too. Emma’s mother and father were always on the same page even before they shared a heart, the truest of True Loves with everything that came along with it. They probably barely even noticed the other’s feelings rattling around in their chests, already so attuned to each other’s every thought. Killian and her, though… well, until recently, Emma hadn’t even thought love was in the cards for her, let alone True Love . It’s only thanks to Killian that she’d started to believe the former; now, it’s only because of the success of their heart split that she’s forced to face the latter. They’d still been trying to learn about each other in the middle of all this insanity with the Snow Queen. (And, apparently, Rumplestilskin too; Emma only hopes Belle can get to the dagger before that demon can.) Their relationship had still been so young, if hopeful. It’s a new kind of pressure, knowing that their affection for one another - oh hell, why is Emma beating around the bush after all this, their love for each other - is pure enough to allow her to give him half her heart. It changes… everything , and as much comfort as Emma pulls from feeling exactly how much he feels for her, it’s a little terrifying to have her future presented so obviously.)

(Oh god, she hadn’t even stopped to think about the fact that this probably goes both ways, that he most likely can feel everything she does as well. Hopefully he’s able to feel everything beyond that burst of panic she couldn’t quite suppress and knows exactly how deeply she feels and how much she cares, even if she’s scared about what feeling this much means.)

(She thinks he might understand, though, the way that loving someone makes you vulnerable, makes you open to the deepest depths of pain alongside all the goodness to be found there too. After all, he’s lived through that hurt himself.)

“Emma?” he asks, reaching for her cheek in what is starting to become a familiar move. Even without the confusion and worry echoing in her chest, she’d be able to see it on his face in the furrowing of his eyebrows, the one she’s come to recognize even without the assistance of some True Love heart-splitting magic. “What’s wrong, love?” He doesn’t seem to have noticed the change himself, the way he has extra feelings not quite his own rattling around in his chest. Maybe it’s an awareness thing - her parents didn’t notice after the were returned to Storybrooke, after all, and they didn’t know either. Maybe the difference between her and Killian right now is that she knows that something should be different, had already halfway been watching for it.

(Maybe, too, their current emotions are so similar, just for different reasons - Emma panicking over everything their shared heart implies, and Killian over her own panicked reaction. What a pair they are, really, a couple of messed up idiots just trying to play it cool.)

“Nothing,” she tries to dismiss. “I’m fine.”

Usually, Killian would let it go, respecting her walls (no longer sky high, dismantling brick by brick with every affectionate touch and easy endearment, but still very much present), but today he pushes. Figures. “No, I don’t think you are,” he responds, stroking his thumb across the apple of her cheek. “Tell me, Emma. Let me help.”

She has three options in the face of his pleading: one, to continue to insist that nothing’s the matter (which she knows won’t work - an open book, he’d called her once, and she knows that still holds true, now more than ever); two, to spill it all, all her fears about embracing what seems to be a forever kind of love on the off chance that he doesn’t feel the same or won’t always feel the same (which is honestly kind of insane to even consider, like this man hasn’t conquered realms and time and given up his home for her, but it’s still a real and terrifying fear; or three, to get mad and focus on the danger he put himself in instead.

Obviously, she chooses the third. It’s easier that way.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again!” Emma hisses, shoving at Killian’s chest. His face quickly shifts from concern, over to shock, before settling into something that looks an awful lot like guilt. God, she dreads finding out how he got into this whole mess if it warrants that kind of look. “I’ve already had to deal with this with Henry, and with Graham… I told you I couldn’t lose you too!”

“I know, love.” She can feel traces of his shame trickling through her veins as Killian hangs his head. Maybe she feels a little bad about this dressing down, but now that Emma’s started this, she has some questions that need answering.

“How long?” she demands.

“How long… what?”

“How long was it missing? How long was Gold in charge? Were you the one that took me on that date, or was he already pulling the strings? What was it, your hand for your heart?”

“No, no, that was just us, I promise, love. He didn’t have anything to do with that night.” Killian rushes to get all that out, but she can still see in his eyes that it’s not the whole story. Her lie detector doesn’t pick up anything - there’s no lie in his words to find, she trusts him on that, but she still knows Killian, and knows when there are things he doesn’t want to say for fear of scaring her or hurting her. ‘Open book’ goes both ways, or something like that. It doesn’t hurt that she can feel the way his (her?) heart rate picks up and the new rush of shame that comes with it, either.

“But it did have something to do with your hand,” she guesses.

Killian nods in resignation. “Aye. Maybe not directly, but that’s where it started. I know I said it was a gift, that there was no deal, but that wasn’t exactly true.”

“Killian…” she groans at the revelation, but he just keeps going right past her.

“The deal was that I wouldn’t tell Belle that the dagger he’d given her was a fake, and he’d give me my hand in return. I shouldn’t have done it, especially since I wasn’t positive that hers was a fake, but it seemed risk free. My hand was just sitting there; I knew he could reattach it, and I knew he wouldn’t do it without proper motivation. But then the events of the rest of that night… I was the one who beat the thief, Scarlet. I was so angry about our interrupted date, and I just… gave into that. Afterwards, I became convinced it was the hand that was the problem - that it was trying to turn me into the man I used to be.” Emma scoffs at that, drawing a rueful grin from Killian. “Ridiculous, I know. But I was desperate. By that point the Crocodile had switched the fake dagger for the real one, so when I went back to coerce him into removing it, I didn’t have that leverage any more. But I couldn’t risk hurting you , or Henry, so when he said that he’d remove the hand again in return for a small favor, I took it.” He sighs heavily. “Little did I know that favor would be absorbing the Apprentice into that blasted hat.”

“Killian,” Emma tries again, softer this time. She understands he feels the need to confess, but it just seems to be hurting him more than anything. She knows Killian, and she knows Gold; for once in her life, Emma is confident that this whole idiocy with his hand only started with the best of intentions.

Still, he won’t let her say anything. “After that, it was just a spiral I couldn’t get out of. Gold kept holding it over my head. I knew if you found out, you’d hate me for lying to you, and it would all be over between us. I finally worked up the courage when your magic went haywire and you were about to let the Crocodile suck you into the hat, but he got there first and deleted the speaking message I left you on your talking phone explaining everything. Thank the gods Elsa was able to talk you out of it. In the meantime, however…”

“He took your heart,” Emma finishes.

“Aye.”  Even without the dejected look gracing his face, Emma can feel the fear and sadness coming from him.

“None of this is your fault,” she assures him - maybe prematurely, since he hasn’t said anything, but she knows he’s thinking it all the same. It’s the little things like this that makes the success of their heart split make sense - the way they know each other better than anyone else, with or without declarations. It makes the panic recede just a little bit, even if she is still worried about how he’ll react when he finds out. “But I don’t get it - why ? Why would you make a deal with Gold, and for your hand of all things?” It just doesn’t make sense to her. He’s lived 300 years without the limb and been happy to avoid Gold since their Neverland detente; it doesn’t make sense that he’d do anything to change that.

Killian mutters something, too low for Emma to understand - a real first from her walking dictionary. “What was that?”

He sighs. “I just wanted to be a better man for you, love,” he replies quietly, still avoiding her eyes. “You deserve a lot more than some old run-down pirate. I can’t even hold you with both hands. Even when I was asking I knew that having my hand back wouldn’t make me the man you deserve, but it was a start.”

Emma stares at him with horror creeping up within her - her own horror. “Did I make you feel like that?” The words are barely a whisper when she manages to force them out. “Did I do that?”

Another rush of horror rushes through her, this time from Killian as his eyes pull wide and panicked to match. “Oh no, love, of course not, I just worry —”

“Because let me clarify now,” she interrupts. “I don’t care. I can’t tell you how little I care about the fact you’ve only got one hand. That’s so - that’s so stupid ! You are a good man , and I’ve never wanted you to be anything but exactly who you are.” It’s true; even in the beginning, when Emma didn’t quite know what to think of the flirtatious pirate, she’d been intrigued, one hand and shady past and all.

“I know that you think that now, love, but what if —” Killian tries to protest, but Emma isn’t having it.

“No! That’s not going to change!” Abruptly, she shoves at his chest. “Do you feel that?”

Killian pulls his brows together in confusion. “Do I feel you shoving at my chest?”

“Don’t get smart with me,” Emma warns. Not that she thinks that’s what he was trying to do in the first place, but she’s a little too on edge about everything to care. Score one for communication or something. “You’re feeling some frustration, right? But don’t know why? And it doesn’t really feel like a real feeling, more like a muted version.”

“Aye, but how do you know that?”

“Because you know how you’re still here, even after Gold crushed your heart? I split mine and gave you half. I’ve been feeling your emotions ever since you woke up, and it sounds like that works both ways.”

“Oh, Emma, you shouldn’t have done that,” he tries to protest. Emma hopes he can feel just how deep that stabs her soul.

“How can you say that?” she cries. “You were dead ! He killed you! I took a chance, and maybe it was dangerous, but I wasn’t willing for it to end like this. And it worked! You know what that means?” Killian shakes his head. “That we’re True Love . So don’t try to tell me that it wasn’t worth it, not when I almost lost that - lost you .”

They sit in silence for a few moments as Emma lets him process. It’s an awful lot to take in, she knows, but she can feel every bit of the awe that’s spreading through his body echoing in her own.

“You love me,” he finally says. It’s not a question; Emma assumes he can feel that glowing within her just as easily as she can feel his own love for her, a diffuse warmth that feels somewhere between a cozy blanket wrapped around her and the sun shining down on her skin.

“I do.”

Killian practically beams at the words, reaching to pull Emma close against his body. “I love you too,” he returns, almost giddy to finally say it.

“I know,” she laughs. “I can feel it.”

There’s nothing else to really say after that, but that’s alright - there’s other ways to say everything without words. The kiss they share is gentle, but thorough, passionate in its own way - lips just brushing over each other before the kiss deepens, allowing tongues to tangle as hands wander and bodies melt further into one another. When they finally separate, Emma finds her hands resting on Killian’s chest, right above where his half of their heart beats strongly beneath his ribs.

“Promise me you won’t ever do anything like that again,” she repeats, “because I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I promise, love,” he swears. “I’ve got your heart to protect, after all.”

She doesn’t even need the shared organ to know that he means every word.

[gatortavern]

Johnny Jhonny in: A Christmas Calamity

A STORY/IT’S DONE!/ FOR @pjmaxsson ! Happy holidays from your @pnatsecretsanta, and apologies that this was sent out so late! (also as a PS, PJ gets his own gift in an epilogue, which will be coming soon!)

Johnny Jhonny In: A Christmas Calamity

“ARGH!”

Johnny Jhonny kicked one of the small snow piles haphazardly placed along the sidewalk. The holiday season, as with most things in Mayview, had been bizarre so far, with a mild snowstorm being followed by a mild warm front. Only a thin layer of snow remained, save for the large dirty piles left by the snowplows.

“Out of anyone I coulda gotten, I had ta’ get Isabel Guerra? That chick’s impossible to get information on!”

“Well if it’s any consolation, she probably won’t murder you if you get it messed up. Pretty sure Lisa knows I got Violet ‘cause she’s been giving me that creepy smile for the past three days. Plus, I don’t think RJ even got someone from our grade,” Ollie chimed in.

RJ nodded in agreement, their furrowed brow hidden by their hood.

“None of this would even be a PROBLEM if Mr. Garcia had handed out these assignments earlier!” Stephen cried out, waving his hands in an exaggerated motion. “THREE DAYS to deliver a Secret Santa present?! We’re gonna have to do our investigations separately!”

              The group, sans RJ, groaned at that. Gift giving for them was nothing to be taken lightly; each member of Johnny’s Gang would meticulously search for, or more often create, something for their target that would have some kind of personal connection for them, a tactic that extended to any poor fool that they got saddled with for a Secret Santa. This, of course, could take a bit of time to gather enough information to make such a gift, which the boys (and RJ) preferred doing together. That plan was now ruined thanks to Mr. Garcia sleeping through the day he was supposed to hand the slips out, on top of his continued forgetting.

              There was a nudge on Johnny’s arm, and he swerved to see where RJ was pointing. At the base of the hill they were slowly traversing down was his target, a maroon sweater barely peeking out under a stone grey jacket, mahogany hair lightly nestled at the shoulders. There’s no way Guerra wouldn’t suspect an ambush if the four of them went down, a thought Johnny saw reflected in his compadres’ eyes.

              “Go get ‘em, slugger!” whispered Stephen with a shove that was anything but soft, sending Johnny stumbling nearly a quarter of the way down the slope before he caught his footing. Halfway down the hill, Johnny stopped and gave a quick glance at his pals, who gave waves of encouragement and thumbs up as a response.

---

About three feet in, Johnny was able to gather one bit of information on Isabel Guerra:

She had really weird ideas for recreational activities.

After a few close calls, he had managed to tail her into a weird-looking cave mound. The damp walls seemed to eat up any light, as Johnny had soon found it hard to see even a foot in front of him, and the soft ground obscured any sounds he could have used to follow her. The paths were wide (he surmised that Ollie could easily walk beside him) and winding ever downward, and the bully soon realized that there were multiple sprawling paths. Johnny silently cursed himself for not charging his phone the day before. At least there would have been a small light source if he had.

The small, uneven muttering up ahead caught his attention.

“Oh geez. Oh man. D-did I go the right way? How are there so many paths? What if Mr. Max is hurt? What if that thing comes back? Ohhh…”

Slowly, Johnny crept up to the voice, hearing it fret over many things. He squinched up his eyes, trying to think. This definitely wasn’t Isabel-her voice could command the room, confidence would ooze from every sound she made.

“I can’t stay here worrying about this! Mr. Max needs me! But…”

“Who the heck’re you?”

              “WAAAUGH!”

Johnny could just barely make out the hazy shape of a boy about his age in front of him, quaking intensely. He wouldn’t have enough time to ruffle this one up, he figured. Got too far away from Guerra already. He’d have to make this quick in order to catch up to her and hopefully hear her let something slip.

“A’ight fella, this is the way it’s gonna work here. I’m feeling pretty generous t’day. Gotta make sure I get the deets on somebody real fast n’ stuff. I’m not even gonna stop ta’ beat ya’ up right now, my mood’s that good. Just tell me where the Guerra chick went.”

“Uhhh…I…don’t know who…that is..?” came the hasty reply.

“Er.. Isabel Guerra? Brown eyes, long brown hair, gray jacket? ”

“…Oh. OH!” The boy seemed to perk up a little upon hearing that. “That’s the scary girl’s name? The one from that weird dodgeball game, right?”

“Hitball, yeah, she was t’ other captain. Besides me.”

“O-oh, okay. I, uh, wasn’t paying too much attention to the game…mostly just watching Max. Ah! Are you the guy Max blocked that ball for?”

That one stung a little. If there was anything that made Johnny Jhonny uncomfortable, it’s someone taking a punishment that should’ve rightfully been his.

“Yeah…that’s me,” he said, the agitation creeping into his voice. “You gonna tell me where the girl went now, or are ya gonna stand here and waste my freakin’ time?”

“Well…I dunno where…Isabel, right? Went exactly…but if she’s in here, that means she’s going to help Max too! Which is good, because this place kinda scares me..”

Great. This kid wasn’t any help at all, Johnny thought to himself as he began to storm off. Well, as best as he could storm in this place, anyway, as the ground muffled all his footsteps.

“Uh, mister sir, you’re heading into a wall,” the boy provided helpfully right as Johnny smashed his face into a bed of dirt. “Are you able to see in here? Because it looks like you’re squinting pretty hard…”

“Oh, so you can see where yer’ goin’ in this pitch black mess?”

“A-a little, mister sir. This place has a lot of weird turns and forks and dead ends. If you can��t tell where you’re going, you could get pretty lost.”

Johnny suddenly had an idea.

“Right then, it’s settled! I can’t see a foot in fronta’ me, and yer’ too scared to fight…whatever it is you came in here fer’, so you get ta’ do the lookin’ and I’ll do the fightin’! I’ll let ya’ pay me back for it later.”

“Uh…ah…oh…kay”, came the uneasy reply. “There’s a path to your left. It’s straight for a while after that, from what I can see.”

And with that, the two set off.

---

Johnny couldn’t tell how long he’d been walking in silence for. At least with the Ed ambush a few days prior, he’d been able to gauge some method of progress by seeing just where Ed was and what he was up to. But here there wasn’t anything to see ahead of him. He could barely hear his own footsteps on the ground if he paid enough attention, but he couldn’t hear the other kid’s at all, even though with a glance he could see the kid steadily at his side.

He wasn’t scared, of course. It was just a dark silent cave, that’s all. Nothing that pathetic could scare Johnny Jhonny.

He was, admittedly, just a little creeped out. He needed something to keep his mind off of this. Besides Guerra, of course. No sense chasing Guerra with some hyped up senses that’d give him away.

“So what’s your deal, anyway? If yer’ so scared of everything, whatcha even come to a spooky cave for?” he asked.

The sad little laugh’s proximity made him jump.

“I was trying to go around with Max a little bit, to see the town again. I thought maybe I could become a little braver, maybe even help in a fight...but then a big spirit came up and grabbed him! I followed it here, but then Max dropped his bat trying to get out of its arms, and I rushed in to help and give it back to him. He can’t fight real good without it… but this is a big cave, and I can’t get the bat to him without going through it, and it’s dark and I got scared…”

Johnny stared at the kid with only the slightest expression of disbelief. “You wanna learn how to fight?”               “I have to be able to help out when he gets attacked! So I can have his back! Because that’s what friends do!”

There was a sense of conviction in the kid’s voice that wasn’t there before. A conviction immediately lost when the floor shook and a deep rumble emanated from below, if the higher pitched wailing that came from his position was anything to go by.

Once the rumbling stopped and Johnny confirmed that he could not beat the earthquake into submission, he turned and gently slapped his hand over the general area of his partner’s head. Although he missed his mouth entirely, it still worked wonders in stopping the kid’s terrified babbling.

“Tell ya what, ya picked a good day ta run into me. I’ll whip ya up into ship-shop shape so you can wallop all yer problems while I’m out nerd hunting. A’course, you’ll have to pay me back with interest…”, he said, cracking his knuckles for effect, but secretly impressed that the kid was trying to take initiative.

He was not expecting a shaky, uncertain “thank you” as a response, but it filled him with a weird sense of pride, and soon an exchange of stories began.

----

To the timid kid’s credit, he had kept his end of the bargain.

Johnny soon realized the kid was a good eavesdropper, since he mentioned that he only knew the girl for a few days. He would’ve quicker taken Isabel to be a dog person afraid of spiders than the other way around. Apparently she was close to her spider too, the one that she’d lost recently. Called it a friend. Johnny could relate; the loss of his boxer four years ago still hurt to think about somewhat. She was also Max’s friend, so of course she’d be into the freaky flipping and jumping around he did constantly. Between her and that spiky nerd dude, freaky movements seemed to be something of a requirement for being that kid’s buddy. He made a mental note to himself to practice some moves with his pals later to show him up.

Some of the facts were a bit harder to make sense of. According to him, she had come with some “scary guy with glasses” to help sort out a…evil whale frog the other day? Riding a paper horse? With the kid’s luck he probably found that weirdo history teacher that’s always wearing shades, but with the kid’s track record of jumping at the smacking sounds of Johnny’s hands, he could’ve been scared of pretty much anyone.

And if what the kid was saying was true, he had somehow managed to punch a teacher in the face for “being evil”. Not a bad start to a fighting career, even if he said that he ran and hid behind Max immediately after.

On his own side, Johnny had launched into relaying many of his and his gang’s bouts over the years, placing emphasis on each blow, duck and dodge. What started out as giving advice on which attacks are what, when people are giving them and how to take/sidestep them quickly derailed into making as great a story as possible. Johnny was just too used to framing these stories for his pals. His partner didn’t seem to mind it too much, though, and every hushed “wow” and question of what happened next only served to hype him up further. He told of turf wars and stakeouts, of the gang catching up to a group of cyclists that had bought the last of the candy that RJ had been looking forward to all week, even his battle with Ed and the Great Starch Hunt.

“’An then he gave us stars from his own pocket for beatin’ him, and Ed took off for greater quarry. Gotta meet up with him later to get RJ’s stuff back…an’ mine too, come ta think of it. Then we got thrown inta’ detention.”

“Wow, mister sir, you sure do get into a lot of adventures.”

“Whoa whoa, knock it off with the ‘mister sir’ crap, yer makin’ me feel old.”

“I don’t think you’ve told me your name though.”

“Wha-you don’t know my name? After everything I just told you?”

“S-sorry…”

“The name’s Johnny. Johnny Jhonny. Forget it and I whack ya.”

“Ah, okay mister Johnny.”

There was a small back and forth about not using “mister” and the kid’s inability to get it through his head, followed by a weird silence, until a small question piped up from the compatriot:

“So you were always good at fighting the bad guys and…other guys, huh? I hope I can be that fearless someday.”

Johnny paused. The image of an angry Jeff from a few days before surfaced in his head, mocking him for protecting his buddies and promising a permanent scar. He remembered how that ball came sailing towards his pals and how much it’d hurt them if he moved. How people kept taking shots for him that weren’t meant for them: Dimitri, Max…

…and how readily RJ and Ollie were to take them, too.

“…That ain’t it. Listen, it’s not about never bein’ scared. That Hitball game where everythin’ went nuts? I acted all brave to calm down my buds, but…I was shakin’ inside. But I took that fear and threw it right back at that little punk. You just gotta take all that terror that’s buildin’ in your chest and put it in your fists instead. Pick up all that fear those jerks put in ya and make ‘em take it back tenfold.”

“How do you do that, Johnny sir?”

The “sir” wasn’t much better, but Johnny brushed it aside for now. “Well, you know how you keep screamin’ whenever somethin’ spooks ya? Make it louder. Make it a war cry! Bellow and yell in their face and make em’ pay for makin’ that sound come outta’ your mouth! And when you think maybe you should book it, or get worried that you can’t take the fight, you think of how your friends would be in the same spot as you, and how they’d get hurt instead, and then you beat up that foe for daring to put that image in your head!”

There was a pause before he spoke again with as much mentorly conviction as he could muster.

“Ya’ don’t let those punks hurt your friends. Ya gotta stand by your pals, fight by their side, so they don’t take blows that ain’t their due.”

“Because that’s what friends do.”

“Exactly.”

A few seconds passed without any words. Johnny then piped up again.

“Y’know, I don’t think you ever told me your name neither.”

“Oh. Uhm..it’s PJ. I’m PJ.”

Johnny couldn’t really see the kid’s face at all, but he could feel the smile from where he was standing. Or maybe that was just the small smile creeping up on his own face. He wasn’t sure, but the area felt calmer, the silence almost welcoming.

That didn’t last.

Another rumble cut through the air, and the quakes nearly threw the bully to the ground. Then another noise, just loud enough for Johnny to make out, bellowed from below.

“KKKKKKKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

“That’s the spirit that got mister Max! It’s close!” shouted PJ before a third rumble sounded. Johnny felt loose soil fall into his hair and vigorously ran his hands through his ‘do. He wasn’t exactly sure what a “spirit” meant, or what could’ve possibly made that noise, but it wasn’t going to stop him from following Guerra. He charged ahead.

Straight into a wall of dirt.

“Ahh! The path is blocked off! It must have touched the soil again!”

“Wha..?” came the muffled reply.

“The spirit can touch things! It moved the soil around earlier when I was making my way in!”

Johnny felt hands on his shoulders for a brief moment before he was catapulted backwards. His hands quickly found soft fabric and the two sped away back up the hallway, swerving and curving to avoid pieces of the ceiling falling down around them. The tremors intensified, and Johnny swung back, bracing himself to punch an enemy he couldn’t see.

KLANG!!

It took a minute for his ears to stop screaming at him, but the vibrations underneath him seemed to halt. His foot slipped for half a second over a pit that he didn’t think was there before. As the ringing subsided, his head pieced together what that noise could have been.

“Hehey, that sounded like a solid hit! Looks like ya got more punch than ya thought, lil slugger!”

“Uh…I didn’t actually swing at it…it came up from underneath me and hit the bat with its face…”

“A solid hold then. You held the bat steady while it came at ya.”

“I was more frozen in fear…”

“Dude, take the compliment before I shove it down your throat hole.”

“OK, Johnny sir.”

“NO, it’s just—you don’t have ta—ah, forget it.”

Johnny turned back and felt around the edges of the hole with his shoe. Whatever came up from the ground was huge, as it took him a while to find a part of the soft earth that wasn’t sloping into the pit. He had half a mind to try throwing something in it to hear how deep it went, but the way the ground was, he wouldn’t be able to hear how far something went anyway.

With no other options, the two started backtracking farther up the cave.

---

“Hey, come ta think of it…PJ, are you in your pajamas?”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess so.”

“Why’d you come down here in your pajamas when it’s this cold out? You lookin’ to catch a flu or something?”

“I can’t really…touch anything unless it’s possessed. …or a spirit… …or Max…or people with special powers.”

“Whaddya mean you can’t touch things? You’re holding Max’s bat. You just touched me like five minutes ago!”

“This is Max’s special weapon with special powers! I can touch it because it’s full of magic.”

“Yeah, well I ain’t no freaky jumpin’ wizard with wizard tools, and ya touched me, so there. What the heck are you talking about with ‘spirits’ anyway? You saying this cave is full of ghosts or something?”

“I don’t think spirits are the same thing as ghosts… they’re weird. They can be really big, or small, and they all have powers, and they can have legs.”

“Ha! Now I know yer’ bluffin’! Stephen told me that ghosts look like super see-through people with a faint bluish tint on ‘em. Only the ones from other places don’t got feet.”

There was an awkward silence. Johnny couldn’t see the face of his partner beside him, but he could tell that the look on his face was one of confusion.

“…You’re new to this, aren’t you?”

Before Johnny could ask him what the heck that was supposed to mean, the rumbling returned. The large, soft chunks of dirt rained down on Johnny’s shoulders, and the ground beneath him quickly lost stability. Small hills of soil quickly piled up near his feet.

The place was caving in.

Johnny quickly found PJ’s arms (though there was little need, as his hands had already found Johnny’s wrists as soon as the rumbles had begun again) and booked it back up the path. He soon found it hard to block out the burning running up his side, or his lungs crying out for air, or the urge to remove all the dirt from his hair, but the twists and turns the path soon divulged helped distract him ever so slightly.

There was only one brief stop, when two other shadows crossed their path, one yanking the other forward in a similar manner. The long hair fluttering into the other shadow’s face was a dead giveaway for Guerra, but when Johnny tried to follow her, he ran into another wall. The place must be coming down fast if he was blocked off that quickly, he thought, and scrambled back as fast as he could to get the heck out of Chrysler.

After more twists and turns and dodges, a blinding light made its presence known. Johnny raced forward, the screaming in his sides unmatched by the crumbling walls becoming more evident from the light. As the exit loomed nearer and the snowy woods came into focus, he noticed the archway begin to buckle. He forced himself forward as fast as he could muster as the shiny white window to the outside became polluted with fallen sediment. He could feel the cool air on his skin and in his lungs, soothing his aching….well, everything. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the roof give entirely. He threw both of his arms forward in desperation, only dimly realizing that the grip he’d felt on his arm had vanished.

Suddenly he felt a hard shove from behind, and everything went white.

---

Johnny lied on the ground for a few seconds, allowing the small layer of snow to soothe his burning limbs. Each inhale brought both pain and relief. Slowly, he got back up to his feet, rubbing tiny patches of nearby snow underneath his pant legs to numb them ever so slightly and surveying the ground.

For the most part, the woods looked about the same as when he had entered, though he hadn’t been paying much attention to the ground at the time. Every track in the snow looked fresh, so it hadn’t snowed any further after he had entered the cave. A massive gouge in the frozen fluff confirmed that someone had been dragged into the mound, and he could see his shoeprints from his stalking mission, his wavy treads trailing just behind a far smoother and slightly smaller boot print.

He paused, then looked around the marks again. There were only two types of prints in the snow. Unless the kid had trod over the haphazard gouge, that was one type too few.

A small gleam caught his eye, and as he registered what was giving off such a glare, his eyes widened.

Lying three or four steps away from his position was an aluminum bat.

His head quickly snapped up to the cave’s entrance. The once great gaping maw that had lead down to the damp dark underneath had been entirely filled with moist brown soil.

There was no sign of life nearby.

He tried to scream for his cave companion, but his voice flickered in and out like a match refusing to light. Within seconds he was at the cave’s entrance, frantically clawing out bits of earth, searching for an opening, his trembling legs and pinwheeling arms providing the howling his throat could not produce.

As he opened his mouth to attempt crying out a fifth time, another scream filled the area for him.

“KKKKKKKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

Johnny stumbled over onto his back, scrambling back into the snow while keeping eye contact with the thing. It was a gigantic mantis, about a few heads taller than a bus, with glowing white eyes the size of the globe Mr. Garcia had in his room. A viscous purple permeated its form and gleamed in the light as if it was made of Jello, and it shimmered like some form of mirage.

It noticed him instantly. Quicker than he’d ever expect a mantis to move, it raised a violet-tinged talon and swung its biological guillotine towards him. The light streaming through the bug caused Johnny’s eyes to water, and he braced himself.

Another familiar sound struck through the air, and his ears cried out in protest.

Johnny blinked away the tears to see another purple shape floating just a few feet in front of him. While the consistency still looked around the same, this one took the form of what looked like a twelve year old kid. A squint revealed what looked to be some form of shirt with a collar and wrist cuffs. There were no sign of legs; instead, the torso tapered off to a wispy serpentine tail. As Johnny stared at the apparition with a quivering mouth and eyes wide as saucers, the purple boy struggled to retain his position. The redhead mentally shook himself and peered beyond the kid; the mantis’s front claws had locked on to the bat the kid was holding and was attempting to push it out from underneath him.

“Aaah! The spirit’s too strong! I can’t keep this up!” the ghost exclaimed as the mantis lowered its head to his eye level, chattering large mandibles that would look less out of place on an ant. Its voice sounded familiar, Johnny thought, and oh sweet merciful Punch why did it sound so familiar, it couldn’t be--

“Please, mister Johnny! Heeelp!”

Johnny glanced from the purple boy to the purple bug and back a few times, his breathing becoming more erratic. It was then that his voice finally burst through in full force.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!”

For a brief second, the boy turned his head just a bit to look at Johnny. He had the same glowing eyes the bug did, as well as a small curl of hair sticking from his top. A look of panic and confusion soon snapped into realization, and the boy turned back and joined in the din.

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!”

It was barely audible above the combined noise of Johnny’s and the bug’s screams, but it was a valiant war cry nonetheless.

Through the wails, Johnny noticed the ghost slowly pushing back upwards against the mantis. The redheaded rogue shot himself to a sitting position and shoved the ghost forward, and the insidious insect buckled. The cold metal of the bat reunited with the behemoth’s face, and as it reeled backward, PJ raised his volume just a little bit, pitched his arms back, and swung the bat right into the creature’s eye. After another round of shrieking, the mantis waved one arm in front of them, and with a tepid “peh”, it retreated back into the earth.

Johnny stared at the spot the mantis had been a second ago in shock, only turning back to the ghost as it floated back in his direction.

“We did it! We beat the bad guy with …uh…violence! And friendship! And violent friendship!” PJ exclaimed as he neared Johnny, his grin somehow resting on the verge of just off-looking enough to be intimidating.

The bully tried to get up, or scramble away, or anything, but his body betrayed him. A fist slowly and haltingly tried to meet the ghost, but even that only made it halfway to its destination before stopping, the limb quaking uselessly in the air. The seconds passed as the ghost stared at the shaking fist until finally he clasped his hand around it.

Johnny’s voice failed him once again, only letting out a small squeak. He could only stare.

After a few minutes, the pajama-clad lad let out an “Oh!”

“I think that’s Isabel and Max over there!”, he exclaimed. Johnny barely managed to turn his head to see a large smoky red arrow a few yards away. “I have to hurry home too, I sort of didn’t tell Lefty where I was going again and he’s probably going to be real mad if he finds out I left.”

“Bye Johnny! Thanks for everythiiiing!” the ghost cried as he flew away.

Johnny just stared forward for a few minutes, his body completely spent. His head tried to come up with reasons for what just happened, but to no avail.

It took about ten minutes for his legs to finally work again, and as he made his way back home to complete his mission, the thoughts nagged at his mind.

He fought…something. With a ghost. He had Friendship Fused with a ghost.

He had befriended a ghost.

He shook his head back and forth to try to clear his head. He got what he needed out of the…ghost…and now it was time to put his newfound knowledge to good use.

Operation Season’s Beatings was a go.

---

All things considered, the Activity Club had a rather uneventful morning. Early patrol had consisted of dealing with one minor spirit with a compulsion to spread gift wrap everywhere, and Isaac’s small kicks of wind made quick work of the litter.

The lunch bell rang, and Isabel hurried to her locker to put away her books. The four of them had promised to eat lunch together outside and possibly share what they had gotten with the others. She thought about how Isaac would try to play it off as if he hadn’t looked at his gift yet when he had been keeping the plush ninja bunny really badly hidden in his jeans pocket all morning and grinned.

Upon kicking the locker door open, she was greeted with what looked like a shoebox with red Santa wrapping paper awkwardly balancing above her books. The spectral quickly glanced around to see if she was being watched and just barely caught a glimpse of red retreating. Shrugging it off, she grabbed her prize and headed to the schoolyard.

Unsurprisingly, Isaac was gushing about the bunny, his eyes reminding her of those “canine eye inflation disease” posters her grandfather had put up in her room. It was a well-crafted rabbit, from what she could see, and the black ninja garb combined with a small metal headband was a nice touch.

“Oh man Izzy, you’re gonna love what Max got,” Ed chirped as she plopped down beside the three.

“I’m serious, whoever told my Secret Santa about this is dead,” Max groaned as he revealed a model train set from his box. Isabel laughed heartily. “My dad is never going to stop running this thing! It’ll be puffing around upstairs until Halloween!”

“How long did it take Stephen to figure it out, by the way?” she asked Ed, who mirrored her devious grin.

“Two periods and I’m pretty sure Ollie was in on it.”

“Do I even want to know what awful fate you brought upon that fool?”

“Hey, when I told him the alien was right behind him, I wasn’t lying. And the Velcro stuck pretty well, all things considered.”

After hearing Isaac gush about the bunny some more (she recalled a scant few times where his voice reached that high of a pitch) and watching Ed reveal his gift of some art supplies and an Optimus Prime robot, the kids turned their attention to Isabel’s red box.

“The tag just says ‘Guerra!’ on it with no sender, so we’re off to a good start already”, Max said dryly as she carefully tore at the paper.

Isaac complained that he wanted to use that paper for later, so Isabel removed it carefully as to make it as whole as possible. Soon the box was bare, and the kids shot each other gleeful looks. Isabel ripped the box open.

Everyone paused. The boys shot uncertain glances at their friend, who stared at the contents with the blankest look on her face any of them had ever seen.

The box was filled with spiders of various sizes, colors and materials. Felt spiders with pom-pom bodies and googly eyes stared innocently upwards, a drawing of a spider eating a dog was taped to the side of the box, and spiders crafted with pebbles and glue stubbornly stuck to the bottom.

There were three origami spiders scattered throughout the box, each done in a different style. One of them had red eyes, saw-tooth fangs and an oddly misshapen head.

There was a handwritten note taped to the lid.

“Guerra,

I heard you lost your spider pal. Having somebody you love leave you stings something awful. So I made you a bunch of spiders that will never die on you ever. Plus to give you something to remember your friend by.

-

PS. They eat dogs”

“They didn’t even write their name on it?” Isaac murmured as Isabel picked up the red-eyed origami spider, slowly turning it in her palm.

“Izzy?” Ed asked gently as his friend traced an hourglass shape into the spider’s body. She stole a glance behind her of the red-haired idiot she’d seen earlier, propped up against a tree just within her line of sight, doing what looked like his best not to fall asleep. “You OK?”

She turned to her friends with a small smile, tucking the odd spider into the deep pocket of her jacket.

“Yeah. I’m just fine.”

[nom-the-skel]

[vore] Stray Bunny

Stretch is a sad bunny. Wolf Red takes him in.

Soft safe vore, willing prey, suicidal thoughts/actions; ostensibly fatal vore in the backstory but if there’s a continuation that could be retconned.

[read on AO3]

“You sure, bunny?” The wolf touched his back gently. Stretch looked up at him grimly and nodded. He couldn’t allow himself to look scared, or Red wouldn’t go through with it. “Okay then.” Red scooped him up from the couch and licked him, running his tongue up the bunny’s bare ribs, across his skull, to the tips of his ears. Stretch shuddered at the proximity of the wolf’s sharp teeth. “You don’t have to be so gentle.” “You wan’ it rough?” Stretch nodded, but failed to convince him. “Maybe later, bunny.” Red went back to licking him until he forgot about the teeth. The soft pressure of his tongue was warm and relaxing, and Stretch couldn’t let himself enjoy this too much. He wished Red would hurry up and get on with it, but he didn’t trust himself to speak. So he had no choice but to let Red lick him for as long as he wanted. When he at last found himself sliding in between the wolf’s jaws, he snapped out of the drowsiness that had been overtaking him. He braced himself, but in a moment found himself sliding out again, back into Red’s hands. “You’re scared,” the wolf said neutrally. “Yeah,” Stretch admitted. Red could tell. There was no hiding it. “You wanna stop?” Stretch flinched at the concern in the wolf’s voice. “No, please. Just do it.” Red hesitated. “Please,” Stretch repeated. “Okay, but don’t get mad at me later. You asked for it.” Red waited until the bunny had nodded agreement to his conditions, then tipped him back into his mouth. Stretch squeezed his sockets shut. The soft wet magic pressed around his skull, convulsed to pull him in deeper. It was awful, though not as bad as what Blue must have gone through, and even after the magic closed over his feet, it lasted an interminably long time. He wasn’t sure what would happen next. Eventually he found himself squeezed out into a looser space and dared open his eyes. There was still nothing but red magic all around, glowing dim and wet. In places he could see the shadows of bones beyond or perhaps within the magic. It didn’t matter. It was far too late to go back now. He’d tried not to let Blue’s efforts go to waste, but it had really been too late the moment it happened. Nothing mattered now, at least not for him, except that he might finally stop hearing Blue’s terrified shriek in the silence, seeing his brother desperately reaching for him in that moment when he was snatched away, every time he closed his eyes. He shook his skull but couldn’t dispel the image. He deserved it, though. If he’d been a little faster, not cut it so close, Blue wouldn’t have tried to protect him. He should have known Blue would try to protect him. He closed his eyes again. It was fitting that Blue would be the last thing he would see, even if it was just in his memory. *** “Wake up, bunny. You’re startin’ to worry me.” Stretch was never a fan of waking up, but it seemed particularly distasteful this time. He hadn’t found much reason to wake up ever since he’d lost Blue. Red and his brother were pretty understanding about it; they thought he needed time to grieve. “Bunny? Bunny? Come on, Stretch.” It must be something serious if Red was poking him and calling him by his name. Stretch groaned and rolled over; maybe he could satisfy the wolf that he was awake without actually waking all the way up. “There you are. Come on, Boss’ll be mad if he finds out. So we gotta clean you up before he gets back.” “Huh?” Stretch finally opened his eyes, but Red dropped a washcloth on him. While he was trying to imagine what they’d done that needed cleaning up before Edge found out, the wolf wrapped the cloth around him and started rubbing. It was much rougher than Red’s tongue had been, and Stretch opened his mouth to complain. Wait a minute. Why did he know so intimately what Red’s tongue felt like? Oh—that—and then— “You were supposed to eat me,” Stretch accused, trying to push the terrycloth away. “I did.” Red used the corner of the cloth to wipe at Stretch’s skull. “No you didn’t.” “Sure I did. Why do you think you’re all red and sticky now?” It didn’t feel sticky so much as slimy, but that wasn’t the point Stretch wanted to argue. “No you didn’t. I’m still here.” “What’re ya talkin’ about, bunny? Of course you’re still here.” “You didn’t do it right.” Stretch felt magical tears welling. “What am I supposed to do now?” “What’re ya sayin’, Stretch?” Red’s hands stilled and his expression darkened. “You didn’t expect me to—” He broke off, grimacing. “What did ya think was gonna happen?” Stretch looked away. “It’s not as bad as what happened—what I let happen to Blue.” “What happened to Blue?” “I told you.” “You told me he dusted, not how. Did he get eaten?” Stretch nodded, eyes still downcast. “So you thought you deserved the same?” “He was shielding me, and—he got snatched up instead.” “And you thought I would just eat you—and digest you—without a second thought?” Red sounded angry now, and when Stretch raised his eyelights, the wolf looked scarier than he’d ever seen him, one eye glowing, fur bristled, ears pinned back. “I—you’re a wolf,” Stretch tried to explain, faltering. Red growled, leaning over him, and the bunny cowered. In the next moment, Red was gone. Stretch sat huddled under the washcloth until Edge got home. *** “Red! You have to come out for dinner anyway. I refuse to let you eat in your room.” Edge knocked on the door again. Stretch was curled up in his other hand, clinging to the frayed edge of his scarf. He trusted Edge not to drop him, but it was a long way down. He’d been more afraid that the taller wolf would scrub away his limited HP in his enthusiasm for getting every one of his bones sparkling clean. Red was more on his own wavelength in matters of cleanliness, but it didn’t seem the shorter wolf was responding even to threats of no dinner. Stretch peered over his shoulder at the unmoving door. There was a leaf of notebook paper taped to it, scrawled with the words: no bunnies. He tugged on the scarf. “Don’t be mad at him. This is all my fault.” Edge’s jaw tightened for a moment. “Both of you should have talked it out more—if you really had to engage in that foolishness in the first place.” “I’ll just leave. Then he won’t have to hide in there.” “A wolf hiding in fear from a tiny bunny?” Edge snorted in amusement, then turned serious again. “Don’t do that. He’ll be more upset if he comes out and you’re gone.” “I don’t think he ever wants to see me again.” Stretch sank down into Edge’s hand. Edge poked him in the ribs. “Promise. That you won’t run off. If you want to hide, I’ll find you a place, but you may not leave the house.” “Fine, okay.” Stretch wasn’t going to argue with a huge, angry wolf. He pulled his freshly laundered hood over his skull. Edge turned to the door and knocked again. “Red. Your bunny misses you.” Red still didn’t answer. “Come on, bunny. We’ll start dinner and he’ll come down when the smell makes him hungry.” *** Edge was right. Stretch didn’t do anything to help except sit on the kitchen table, but after a while, when Edge’s cooking had produced a mouth-watering aroma, Red appeared in the doorway and slunk in. “Red!” Edge said sharply without turning around. “Why are you sneaking around like that? Nobody is angry with you!” Red pulled himself onto a chair and refused to meet Stretch’s gaze. “I know you don’t approve of eatin’ bunnies, Boss.” “That’s true! But how can I fault you when the bunny explicitly asked you to do it?” Edge set the finished lasagna on the counter and started cutting it into squares. Red finally looked at Stretch, and the bunny immediately looked away. He should have left before Edge got back and made him promise not to. Or at least hidden somewhere Red wouldn’t have to see him, maybe under the couch, or in Edge’s room. “Bunny…” Red sounded tired. “I’m sorry.” Stretch crossed his arms over the front of his hoodie, halfway curling up. “Yeah—me too.” Stretch dared to glance at the wolf. Red’s expression was dark, his ears laid back. “You’re—pretty mad, huh?” “Well, yeah.” Red softened even as he said so. “I can’t believe you thought—if I just wanted a snack, I wouldn’ta brought you in outta the snow, would I?” Stretch remembered the moment he’d met Red. He didn’t have any memory of how he’d escaped the monster that had taken Blue; the next thing he could recall was skeletal fingers lifting him out of a snowdrift. He should have been afraid when he realized Red was a wolf, but he was past caring. “I guess—I wasn’t thinking.” Red frowned at that. “I can—get out of your hare. If you’d like.” The bunny flinched under Red’s stare, but it slowly cracked into a grin. “That would be un-warren-ted,” Red answered. “I hope this means you’ve both come to your senses,” Edge grumbled as he brought them their food. “Thanks. But I wish I could do something to make it up to you.” The lasagna was a reminder of how much the wolves had done for him, and how helpless he was to do anything for them in return. “Well,” said Red. “If you wanted to. Only if you wanted to. We could try it again.” He scratched at his ear to hide how awkward it was to bring up. Stretch stared at him, shocked. Of course he’d assumed, before, that Red would enjoy eating him, but he’d dismissed that along with the assumption that the wolf didn’t care if he died. Now that he thought back on it, the physical sensations had been neutral-to-pleasant. He wasn’t sure if he was willing to do it again, but he could give it some thought. Meanwhile, he answered, “I guess that’s not off the table. Thought you wouldn’t like getting a hare in your mouth.” “Yeah, it can be really ear-ritating.” “If you’re going to have a pun-fest in here, I’m going to eat in the living room.” Edge picked up his plate. “Don’t go, Edge. We’ll be good.” Stretch scooted over to Red’s outstretched hand so that the wolf could pet his ears. “Yeah, Boss, no more rabbit puns,” Red agreed. Edge waited a moment to make sure that wasn’t the set-up for a pun and then relented, sitting down at the table. He slid Stretch’s plate closer to the bunny. “I got plenty of non-rabbit puns. Don’t wolf down your food now,” Red warned. “You’re not gonna curry any favor with me if your puns don’t pass mustard,” Stretch shot back. “No wolf or food puns either,” said Edge. “Why not, Boss? They’re so humerus.” “I find that hard to swallow.” Edge huffed in annoyance and sat back in his chair, but didn’t make good on his threat to leave. Stretch dug into his bunny-sized portion of lasagna.

[distant-rose]

Oreos at One-Thirty

Notes: Today is the two-year anniversary of the Little Pirates series. That’s right. On August 16th, 2017, I published the first installment of the series By the Hook. It’s insane to me to think I’ve been writing for this series so long and I couldn’t have done it without the amazing support of all my readers. While the first installment focused on Killian and Beth, I decided to celebrate the series by writing about Emma and Wes today. Thank you for everything and a special thank you to @optomisticgirl for constantly letting me spam her about this dumb ass universe. She’s a trooper. Summary: It’s the middle of the night and one of Emma Swan’s kids is out of bed. She’s not going to stand for this. Word Count: 2,500+ Rating: T

It was 1:30 in the morning when the stairs gave a small whine. It was a faint noise, one that most people wouldn’t notice.

But Emma Swan wasn’t most people.

She had never been the most peaceful of sleepers. The slightest of sounds had the tendency of waking her up, one of the many leftovers from living on the streets and staying in stolen hotel rooms. While a few of her habits from that time had faded, her light-sleeping habits seemed only be more honed with the birth of her children.

She laid there in her bed, ears straining for more movement and her hand automatically reaching for her nightstand where she hid her pistol. She would like to think that no one in Storybrooke would have the balls to attack her family in their home in the middle of the night, but with the number of villains and curses she had dealt with over the past couple of decades, she wasn’t willing to chance it. She glanced over at her husband, debating whether or not she should wake him. He was snoring away, completely unaware of the stirrings in their house, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to rob him of his sleep after some many late-night shifts at the station.

Her decision was made for her when there was another creak from the stairway, one that was only made when someone was putting their weight on the bottom step. She scowled in the dark.

There was no intruder in her house.

Someone was out of bed.

Muttering curses under her breath, she crawled out of the warmth of her own bed. Killian mumbled something in his sleep before shifting in the warm spot she had left behind and grasping at her pillow. If she wasn’t so annoyed with their kids, she would have smiled at the sight.

As she headed down the stairs, blue and white light danced across the walls followed by the faint chiming music of an advertisement for Old Spice. As she got halfway down, the identity of her little miscreant was revealed.

Her twelve-year old son was on her couch, watching television and stuffing not one, not two, not three but four Oreos into his mouth all at once.

“You got to be kidding me!”

Wes jumped at the sound of her voice, tipping over the large glass of milk he had been cradling in his elbow and sending the packet of cookies flying into the air. Emma’s mood only soured as she watched the mess spread across her leather couch and drip onto her brand new and very expensive carpet that she and Killian had bought two days ago.

“Uhhhhh…hi Mom…fancy seeing you here…” He scrambled a bit, looking around frantically for something before grabbing a half-eaten Oreo off the floor and holding it out to her. “Cookie?”

She gave him an unimpressed look, arching an eyebrow and crossing her arms in front of her chest as she regarded him. His blue eyes darted between her and the Oreo in his outstretched hand.

“What? Don’t believe in the five-second rule?”

“Westley.”

“I can get you a new cookie. It’s no big deal.”

“Westley Graham.”

“But it would be a total waste of a cookie and you know what Grandma Snow always says — waste not, want not.”

“Kid, it’s two in the morning.”

“Actually, it’s one thirty-two, so you’re—”

“Your bedtime is eight-thirty,” she cut him off, rubbing at her temples as her irritation with him rose.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Really? You do? So, you’re not actually here? You’re upstairs like you were supposed to be for the last six hours and I’m just hallucinating right now? I’m not actually witnessing you out of bed and destroying my furniture?”

“No, I’m here. I did actually go to bed at eight-thirty like you wanted…I just woke up and got bored. It’s not like we have a mandatory wake-up time.”

“You’re supposed stay in bed until six-thirty…” Emma replied through gritted teeth. Wes raised his eyebrows at her, looking disturbingly like Killian whenever he was feeling particularly obstinate.

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“When?”

Emma pinched the bridge of her nose and mentally counted to ten to keep from screaming. When she looked back at her son, he was watching her with an expression that was caught between wary and amused. She was going to kill him.

“I’m saying it right now. Seriously. Kid, if you don't pick up that mess you’ve made of my living room and get your ass back in bed, so help me, I will tan your hide!"

“I’m pretty sure the law frowns upon child abuse.”

“Oh kid, you’re forgetting one teeny tiny detail, I am the law. Get some paper towels. Now.”

Catching her thunderous expression, Wes scrambled off the couch and headed into the kitchen. She was mildly impressed with how fast he was able to move on those skinny toothpick legs of his.

Emma let out a sigh, trying not to think about the ruined rug. Everything in her house was in a state of disrepair. The coffee table had watermarks on it. The couch had been broken more times than she could count. Even the television had small dents and scratches on the screen from the time Beth and Neddy had a lightsaber match that had gotten out of hand. What difference did it make that the brand new rug now had stains on it?

While waiting for her son to come back with paper towels, she went to work picking up the leftover Oreo crumbles on the couch. She deposited them in the empty side of the plastic container before sitting down on the dry side of the couch and turning her attention to the television. Her interest piqued as Dataline crossed the screen, detailing the disappearance of a young woman from Texas.

“They think her boyfriend did it,” Wes commented as he returned.

“What?”

“Christina Morris,” he replied, nodding his head towards the television. “They think her boyfriend kidnapped her. They’re not sure if he killed her or if he took her in Mexico or something.”

“Grim,” Emma remarked absently, picking up the last Oreo and biting it.

“Totally.”

“What the hell are you doing watching this in the middle of the night? You’re going to get nightmares from this stuff.”

“As if I don’t already have nightmares anyway,” he replied, not looking at her as he went about cleaning up the spilled milk.

Her anger and irritation melted away at his words, giving away to concern. She patted the place beside her. Wes hesitated, looking conflicted as he placed the soiled paper towels on the coffee table.

“Come here.”

He climbed onto the couch, placing some space between them. Emma was having none of it, pulling him by the shoulders and guiding his head into her lap like she often did when he was a much smaller boy and afraid of the dark. She brushed her fingers through his thick blond hair, frowning as she looked down at him.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“What’s got you so shaken up?”

“It’s just…” He trailed off, averting his eyes and swallowing his words.

“Wes…It’s better to talk about it.”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“I’m your mom, kid. I wiped your bottom when you were baby. Nothing gets more embarrassing than that.”

“Mom, c’mon,” he whined, turning on his side and pressing his face into her stomach. She didn’t press him any further. Even when he was a baby, he had never responded well to being pushed into things. He had inherited both her and Killian’s stubbornness in tenfold. Getting him to do anything when he was a toddler had been absolute nightmare and he had only gotten slightly better in age, replacing tantrums with a defiant look and firmly stated “no.”

So, she did what she felt was best in these type of situations. She waited for him to open up to her, continuing to run stroke his hair and watched what was left of the Dataline episode on her TV screen.  They were showing interviews with Christina’s suspect boyfriend before Wes mumbled something against her clothed belly, his breath warming the fabric.

“What was that?” she asked, pausing her ministrations.

“Clowns.”

“Clown?”

“Clowns,” he repeated. “You know like killer clowns. Like in that movie, you know, It?”

Emma shuddered. She remembered the Stephen King novel vividly. She had read it back in when she was in prison and had nothing but time on her hands. It had given her nightmares as well.  She was aware it had been turned into a movie a couple of times, but horror movies had never been her thing and she had little desire to actually watch it. She had found the story to be disturbing at eighteen, she couldn’t imagine how terrifying it was to a twelve-year old. He shouldn't be watching or reading things like that.

“Wait a minute,” she frowned, coming to a realization. “How do you know about It?”

“Henry!” Wes replied a little too quickly.

“You, Westley Graham Jones, are a liar and a terrible one at that,” Emma said pointedly, giving him a tired glare. “One, Henry hates horror movies... and possibly killer clowns more than you do. Two, he would never in a million years let you watch something like that. So, tell me the truth this time.”

“Okay, okay, okay. Just promise me you won’t get mad?”

“I’m making no such promises. Seriously, Wes. The truth.”

He let out a heavy dramatic sigh. He was becoming more and more moody as he had gotten older. He was going to be a nightmare teenager. Emma was sure of it.

“Gideon and I snuck into a showing of it during Halloween. He said if I didn’t it would be because I’m scared, and I’m not scared of anything—”

“Except clowns,” Emma cut him off. “Wes, that’s an R rated movie. Gideon is fourteen and even he’s not old enough to watch those kinds of movies. You certainly aren’t. There are ratings on things for a reason.”

“It’s just a movie,” he scowled at her.

“Yeah. A movie that scared you badly enough that you’re having nightmares and are up at all hours of the night feasting on Oreos,” she replied, looking at the demolished empty container. “Your father is going to kill you. His sweet tooth is almost as bad as yours.”

“So? You can just buy more.”

“You think money grows on trees, don’t you?” she asked, unimpressed with his answer.

“Well, money is made from paper and paper comes trees so there’s that.”

“Smart ass kid.”

“Better than being a dumb ass.”

“God, you’re so my kid it hurts sometimes,” she muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes.

He was staring up at her with that impish little grin that seemed to have permanent residence on his face since the time he could walk. He was a good kid though, even if he did sometimes eat all the Oreos and wake her up at all hours of the night. Out of her five children, Wes was the most like her; a little rough around the edges and sometimes a little too smart with his mouth, but he was never malicious. He was just a little too defensive and wanting to prove to be people he was tough. She had been the same at his age.

She wanted to soften those edges. Hers had been bore out of a need to survive; they had been necessary to endure group homes, bullies, being homeless, being in prison and then later as the Savior. Wes didn’t need them. Nothing was going to happen to him, not while she was still breathing.

“You know it’s okay to be scared right?” she asked after a moment.

“What?”

“Being scared of things. It’s normal.”

He scoffed at her words. “You’re not scared of anything.”

“That’s not true,” she sighed. “Want to know a little secret?”

He nodded wordlessly in response.

“I get scared a lot,” she admitted. “I get scared all the time of things – villains, bills, that I’m not being a good mom—”

“But you’re the best!” Wes protested, cutting her off.

“Thank you for the vote of confidence, let me finish,” she responded gently. “The point is sometimes I get scared, but the important thing is to not let it control you. Sometimes fear is a healthy thing, but it shouldn’t paralyze you and stop you from doing things…Do you understand me?”

“Yeah…I guess…” He looked unsure.

“Do you know what makes me feel better when I’m scared…Knowing that I have your dad…and Henry…and your grandparents…and even Regina...I just know that having them in my life makes me stronger and that I’m not alone…and you know what, kid? You’re not alone either…you have all of us and even your brothers and sister.”

“I’m not trusting Neddy to fight off bad guys. He’s barely toilet trained.”

“Oh, stop, he’s fine. A little accident here and there isn’t bad. Give him a break.”

“He peed on my bed, Mom.”

“Like I said accidents happen. He’s not gonna be little forever. He might be even bigger than you and Har someday.”

“Yeah right,” he scoffed.

“All kidding aside, it’s okay to get scared but you can’t let it control you and your sleep schedule…”

“I know, I just…I’m not ready to go back to sleep yet.”

“And that’s okay…We can stay down here for a little bit and watch some TV but not all night, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, batting his forehead against her hand. She chuckled quietly to herself as she resumed stroking his hair. He reminded her a bit of the stray dog she used to feed back when she was in Boston, starved for food and attention.

A new episode of Dateline started, and Emma watched it half-heartedly. Her attention was more focused on the droopy-eyed boy in her lap. His eyelids were getting heavier and heavier as the minutes passed. He was asleep a good few minutes into the episode. She debated quietly whether or not she should wake him so he could sleep properly in his bed but loathed the idea of waking him up again.

She placed a brief kiss on his forehead before gingerly removing his head from her lap and placing a decorative pillow underneath it. She picked up one of the various throw blankets that were strewn carelessly across the floor and tucked him in. She left the television on, wanting to give him some source of light just in case Pennywise the Clown haunted his dreams again and woke him up. It was one of the few things she craved when she awoke from nightmares, being able to see her surroundings and make sure she was safe. She could only imagine that he might desire the same thing.

As she slipped back into bed, Killian wrapped an arm around her waist. He pulled her close and nuzzled his nose against her neck.

“You’re back,” he mumbled sleepily.

“Yeah. I’m surprised you’re awake.”

“You really think I was going to sleep without you in our bed, love?”

“Well…with the way you were snoring…”

“Hey now,” he muttered in mock offense, nudging her foot with his. “Wes back in bed?”

“You know it was him?”

“Educated guess really. He’s our biggest night owl.”

“He had a nightmare. He and Gideon have been sneaking into R rated movies.”

“We’re going to have to watch him. If anyone is going to be throwing secret keggers, it’s going to be him,” Killian commented.

“Probably, but let’s worry about that when he’s a teenager and not at two in the morning. Right now, I just want to go sleep.”

“Alright, love,” he chuckled before placing a kiss behind her ear. “Pleasant dreams.”

“Yeah, no clowns hopefully."

[ascreamingstrawberry]

Colors of the Heart

Summary:  The explanation that most health classes gave you in middle school was pretty simple, you could see every color but your soulmates eye color until you saw your soulmate cry.

June 24th : Friendship, June 25th : Roceit, June 26th : Loceit, June 27th : DLAMP, June 28th : Patceit, June 29th : Anxceit, June 30th : FamILY

Pairings: DLAMP, Roceit, Lociet, Anxceit, Patceit, Analogical, Royality, Moxiety, Logince, Logicality, Prinxiety

Word Count: 4,545

Warnings : Deceit’s name is Solace in this. Sympathetic Deceit. mentions of anxiety, bad days, playful teasing, bad self talk, frustration, etc.

Notes : I actually love this? Leave a like, a reblog, message, and reply! I love hearing your comments.

No one really remembers when someone discovered tears and eye color and all the soulmate junk that went into it but the explanation that most health classes gave you in middle school was pretty simple. You could see every color but your soulmates eye color until you saw your soulmate cry.

This had to do with the chemicals enhancements in the eye drops every person took and some special soulmate pheromen, that Solace hadn’t paid enough attention to learn. When the first class on soulmates ended, every kid was comparing what colors they could and could not see, and the next day they were coming in with onions trying to make themselves cry to see if any of them were soulmates. It had worked for Louis and Amelia, but nobody else in his class.

Solace hadn’t participated.  All he could do to help his chances was take his eye drops, because without it the pheromen took days to kick in and he wanted to know who his soulmate was the minute he saw their tears, so he could comfort them of course.

Solace figured out he had multiple. He couldn’t see shades of the color violet :a very rare eye color; and he also couldn’t see green, blue, and brown. He could still see his favorite color yellow though, and he was sure his soulmates weren’t missing too much by not being able to see the bright grey that was his own eye color. 

He missed colors, even if he’s never seen them never even able to imagine what they look like, it was a funny feeling to miss something you didn’t know. He guessed it was kind of the same way that he missed his soulmates. He knew he wanted to be the best soulmate possible, but Solace had a habit of saying the wrong thing to people, so by age eighteen he was certain he’d probably figure out his soulmate by making them cry.

And he was right about one thing. 

Green - Sad Tears

“Oh please you love me.” Roman’s voice carried through the college cafeteria, ringing a little bit in Solace’s ears. He groaned as he sat down, barely listening to Logan’s snarky response, but reveling in the way Patton wrapped his arm around his shoulder as he took his seat. He couldn’t let him know that though.

“Stop.” Solace hoped his tone was playful, as he moved his arm off of him, whispering so he didn’t interrupt the scene in front of them.

Roman had one of his feet on the chair next to him, being dramatic, until Virgil trailed from behind Solace and moved his foot rather roughly to sit down next to him. Roman nearly fell into Logan who was sat on the other side of him, the three of them across from Solace and Patton. Roman huffed and turned to Patton as he laid his head on Solace’s shoulder. “You okay, Padre?”

“Hm?” Patton smiled, and Solace tried to get a look at it from where he was above Patton. Patton was a little taller than him, so his head blocked most of his view as he laid on Solace’s shoulder, but Roman appeared sated with whatever he found on Patton’s face. “I’m great!”

“Good, then maybe don’t use me as a pillow.” Solace laughed, and Patton removed his head quickly. Conversation continued normally for the group of five, Roman telling them about the theatre department’s latest antics, Logan talking about his molecular genetics lecture even despite Solace and Virgil being in the same lecture. However there was silence in between the gaps that were usually filled with Patton talking about the kids he got to work with during his education classes.

Nobody seemed to mention it. It was probably another one of their before Solace, the four of them had been friends for a semester before Solace came to this university, with Solace wanting to take a semester off after high school, and there were just some things he’d be left out on. Eventually, Virgil and Logan left to get some early winks for their 8 am, and Roman headed over to rehearse lines with the drama club, leaving them all with kisses on the cheeks : an odd goodbye ritual for the group. Either way, it left Patton and Solace on the walk back to the dorms.

The silence had started to bug him about halfway but he didn’t say anything until he heard a sniffle and felt a shiver come from his left. “Pat, what’s up with you? You’re not acting nearly as annoying as you normally are.”

He had about two milliseconds before the waterworks started and he turned to reassure him that he wasn’t annoying he was just joking when he caught the greatest glimpse of something on the ground. The grass had-well it had color. Most of it was covered it white, the last couple pieces of snow lingering way too long, but there was, grass was what, grass was green! He could see green! Oh god green was beautiful, he turned to tell Patton about it but he was gone. The sound of footsteps in the distant.

It had taken him the entire walk back to his room to stare up into his ceiling realizing that he had been able to see green because Patton had cried and Patton’s eyes were green, and Patton was his soulmate. And it terrified Solace, but it made him want to run.

So he ran to Patton’s room, knocked on the door with more excitement than he had ever felt in his life, knocking fast and like three times, bouncing up and down with energy only for Logan to answer the door. It seemed reasonable, he and Patton were roomates. But as it opened, Solace saw the other two, and ran over to Patton, in the middle of a group hug, no longer feeling the urge to tell him that he made Solace see green, but to apologize. Patton hugged him quickly, explained it had been just a bad day, and as another group hug erupted around them, Solace tried not to think about how everyone wasn’t really touching him, just hovering. 

Violet - Scared Tears

Solace loved parties. He liked the dancing, he liked people pretending to want to get to know each other only to pretend not to know who they were the next time they saw each other. In high school, he had loved to think about meeting his soulmate at a college party. That thought didn’t entertain him as much these days as he watched Patton hover around the others. Little touches, longer goodbye cheek kisses. None for Solace though. Maybe he realized it, and was trying to send him signals? That’d be impossible though because Solace hadn’t told him, and Patton hadn’t seen him cry.

None of that came to matter even as Roman and Patton found a way to dance in the hundreds of college kids packed in to the bottom floor of this tiny house, because this tiny house was getting busted. Kids slowly poured out, the police never really tried to catch anybody at these kinds of things they just shut them down if it got too noisy. So mostly everyone was fine, everyone except Virgil.

When Solace felt the tight squeeze of the back of his arm disappear, he whipped around and saw Virgil on the ground, clutching his ears tightly. Solace didn’t have time to think about getting any of the others, if you hung around you would get arrested, so he reached down to pick Virgil up by his knees, bridal style. Virgil wrapped his arms around his neck, and Solace carried him out of the house all the way to where Patton, Roman, and Logan were looking for them worriedly on the street corner by the house.

“Thank god.” Roman called as Solace approached, his arms on fire from carrying Virgil all this way, he refused to hand him over to anyone else. Virgil was taller than him, skinnier and at least thirty pounds lighter, but still taller.

“We thought you-” Patton began but Solace shook his head, probably better than to scare him with more could ofs. They all starting walking back towards Logan’s car, and when Solace did set Virgil down for a minute they kinda full behind, he did it so the boy was standing in front of him, looking up at him. Just to check on him, Solace told himself, like a good friend.

And suddenly the patches on Virgil’s hoodie stood out to him, looking rich in color. He’d gotten used to green, so it wasn’t that, and it was almost like red but not at all really, but he shook his head visibly before he could think on it. Virgil needed him. “Piggy back ride to the car?”

Virgil smiled, wiped his hoodie sleeve over his eyes, his black makeup underneath it smudging along the interesting colored patch while Solace turned around and bent over for him to jump on his back. It hurt a little more to carry him this way, but the giggle Virgil let out when Solace went Naruto running passed Roman, Logan, and Patton to the car with him on his back made up for it.

He and Virgil climbed in the backseat, and when Patton climbed in on the other side of their anxious friend, he made a comment about washing Virgil’s hoodie so he could get the black out of the violet patch on his sleeve.

So violet, it was. And it seems, another one of his friends was Solace’s soulmate. Yay him. 

Brown - Happy Tears

Roman had done wonderful. His solo was probably the best song in the whole play, and Solace couldn’t help but getting this giddiness in him watching the way Roman bowed with complete and utter confidence in his performance. They, being Solace, Logan, Virgil, and Patton, snuck backstage to see him at the end of it before anyone else could. Or had at least tried to.

Roman had been lifting Logan in the air, he being the first to reach there as he had the longest legs and a history of track. Solace brought up the rear and Roman must have finally conceded with the nerd’s uncomfortableness with being twirled around because as soon as Solace entered, Roman put him down. He didn’t pay much attention to it because not a second later, a loud deep voice was calling from behind. “Hey son!”

Roman’s stepfather.

Roman’s stepdad was the most interesting guy Solace had ever heard about. 6 foot 3, football star quality, but also in the front row of every show Roman ever did. Solace knew Roman’s past, how he didn’t like to talk about most of it, his dad leaving him, and his mom passing away shortly after giving birth to his baby brother. But his stepdad and his brother? He’d talk about them for days if he could.

“Squirt!” A child’s voice called.

“Hey bub!” Roman laughed, bending over and picking up the tiny child ruffling the child’s black hair.

“I don’t believe we’ve met, yet.” Roman’s stepdad clapped him on the back, almost sent him flying considering he was the shortest among the group.

“I’m Solace, sir, nice to meet you,” Solace held out his hand but Roman’s stepdad just laughed and pulled him in for a tight one armed hug. Solace closed his eyes as he did, leaned in a little toward it hoping no one would notice, and when he pulled away he was relieved to see Roman’s stepdad still smiling.

“So what did you think about his performance?” Roman’s stepfather walked around to each of the boys to give them the same hug, and he watched as each returned it, even Virgil who normally shied away from physical touch at all.

“I thought he was amazing!” Patton said.

“You did alright.” Virgil shrugged, despite the smile on his face.

“Arguably, I’d say his performance was impeccable.” Logan replied.

“What about you Solace?” Roman asked, switching his brother to his right hip, as the five year old played with his hair. Solace watched as Roman bit his lip nervously and flashed a shaky smile, he saw the hidden question there. Did you like it?

“Roman was surely the best part of it all. The way he commands the stage is just so powerful, and his bass voice filled up the whole auditorium, it actually gave me chills.” As soon as he opened his mouth, the words just kind of spilled out of him, and he even raised his arm to prove his point, keeping the other arm with the roses for Roman behind his back, that also had goosebumps.

Even though, he was pretty sure that was just from naturally being colder than everyone else, but they didn’t need to know that. And when he looked back at Roman there were little glass drops collected at the edges of his eyes, and Solace held out the roses, an apology for making him cry but Roman dropped his head to hide the tears. Then, after what seemed like a lifetime, Solace was able to see the color of Roman’s hair. It was kind of dark, not like Virgil’s hair, but also warmer and Solace looked around, trying to take in new things. It was almost like red, but he knew it wasn’t because Patton’s hair was red and he’d been able to see it since the first day they’d met. Logan’s hair was a shade of this new color, darker than Roman’s, and so was Patton’s pants, and the color of Roman’s stepdad and brother’s skin. This new color was everywhere!

Brown, his brain telling him, and when a flyaway hair on Roman’s head shook as he laughed and mumbled through a thank you, Solace figured he quite liked brown.

They all got invited out to eat with the Prince boys, and Solace found himself watching the way Roman laughed or smiled, feeling it light up his entire insides. He took the gaps in between tales of backstage mishaps and near flukes, to glimpse at Virgil’s soft smirk and Patton’s easy smile, making the feeling grow. This was going to be a long night. 

Blue - Stressed Tears

“Fuck midterms.” Solace mumbled, plopping in a seat next to Logan that everyone else seemed to be avoiding as hey sat at the complete opposite end of the study table.

“Amen.” Everyone cheered without picking their heads up from their books, and then Solace was lost in the hours of studying.

When he finally looked up from the pages and pages of history notes, the table was exceedingly less populated than before, he noticed. Looking around the room, there was a staircase in the room behind them, that led up to a circular room with a hole in the middle looking down over the chair. Roman and Patton escaped up there, bending over the railing on the hole to wave hello as he looked up, before crouching down and resuming whatever they were doing. Virgil was asleep in the big lounge chair in the corner with his cordless headphones over his ears, it was almost three am after all, he said upon clicking open his phone.

He stretched his arms, a little moan escaping him as joints cracked and muscles ached, pulling out his earphones. Just in time too, because as he opened his eyes again, he heard rather than saw Logan’s head slam against the table. Solace placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking him a little. “Logan, Logan, are you okay?”

“No.” Came the answer muffled by study guides and excessively highlighted notes.

“Let’s take a break.” Solace said, standing up out of the chair, and walking to the other side of Logan’s chair pulling it back a little. Logan’s head didn’t move but his body did, lifting his shirt a little so that Solace could see the pale skin with bright veins. He set the chair back down.

“Can’t.” Logan mumbled again.

“Come on, let’s at least get so1me food in you,” Solace puts his hands on Logan’s shoulders and when he did, he felt the muscles in them twitching ever so slightly. Worried, Solace wrapped his hands around Logan’s armpits, pulling up hard enough to remove his deadlike weight from the table but hopefully not enough to hurt him. When he finally got a glimpse of Logan’s face he saw that he was not only crying, but sobbing with his entire upper body.

It was chilling, to say the least.

“Logan.” Solace mumbled, tugging on him to pull him up and out of his chair and into his arms. Logan pulled his head away from the hug, tried to say something, but Solace shushed him, rubbing his hand in circles along his lower back. And he guesses that must of broke him, because he practically threw his head against Solace’s shoulder, and shook harder and cried louder.

Soon enough, Solace caught sight of a familiar red hoodie, and something-something blue, blue he could see blue. Logan’s eyes were blue! Logan was crying and he could see blue so Logan was his soulmate! His last one!

Oh, fuck.

Patton’s shirt was blue, that’s what he had been seeing and he pulled Logan away from Solace a little roughly and into his arms while Roman went over to wake Virgil up. The thin student snapped awake, and Roman looked almost apologetic to take him by the hand and lead him over to the table, where Roman began packing up their stuff.

Virgil patted Solace’s back, as Patton soothed Logan enough for him to quiet down ever so slightly. Solace moved to get his stuff just as quickly, and when they were all down he followed behind the small group of four. Patton holding onto Logan as the tallest of them kept his arms wrapped around the smaller man’s waist and his head on his shoulder. Roman had his hand in Patton’s open one, and Virgil was next to Logan, so close their shoulders were touching but the science major didn’t seem to mind.

None of them seemed to notice Solace trailing behind, hovering in line with the space between Virgil and Logan’s bodies, staring at their feet moving along the floor in front of him. 

Grey - Lonely Tears

They’d announced their relationship as soon as midterms had been over, for Logan’s sake. They sat Solace down, told him how they were all soulmates but they still wanted to be his friend and wanted him to hang out with them. He’d smiled, told him he was happy for them, but declined their invitation to join them for movies and pizza.

Solace trailed down to the lobby of their dorm hall, turned the corner to the TV lounge. He sat down at the only table in the room, ignoring the sounds of pool, ping pong, and the grand piano coming from the activity room behind him, and opened his notebook. He attempted to study for an English quiz that he didn’t even really need to study for, and soon enough after about the fifth of sixth group of students passed him, he gave up. Leaning back in his chair dangerously, he pulled out his phone, pulling up a photo of the color wheel, and examined. He could see every single color. From the specific color of sandy brown that he related to Roman’s hair, to the orange that Logan’s math folder was. All the blues, greens, and violets of his soulmates there before him.

Fuck. He told himself that if he stayed in public he wouldn’t cry. He’d be able to ignore the jet black feeling that he felt in the middle of his chest, the dark blue clouds in his head.

“Oh please, sir Sing a Lot, Black Cauldron is way better.”

Of course, of fucking course. Solace sniffled, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand as he pulled the top of his yellow comfort hoodie over his face in an attempt to conceal his face. He leaned his head forward a little, so he could see out but no one could see his face, and the ears were a little harder to keep in as soon an he saw the four of their shoes come into view.

“But what if they’re hurt, Lo?”

Solace got about two seconds of warning before his little sliver of sight was clouded with the familiar black of Logan’s favorite polo. He ducked his head down even further, maybe they didn’t recognize him. And tried to close in on himself as soon as he registered someone in the chair next to him.

“Solace.” Roman’s voice held no room for disagreement, no way to disobey. So he lifted his head, let whoever was next to him pull back the hood off his head and tried to keep more tears from doing more damage. Roman, who he now realized was sitting next to him, gasped and reached out to touch him but Solace flinched away. “What’s wrong, sunshine?”

“I’m f-f-fine.” He stuttered out wrapping his arms around himself. The nickname hurt. It’d been silly enough at first, a simple misunderstanding of his name. Solace, Roman, it means comfort not solstice, he could hear Logan’s voice say in the back of his head. Now it just reminded him of of the warmth he felt looking at Roman on stage, or hearing Virgil laugh, or seeing Logan smile. They had to know-they had to know their color missing by now-and that it was him-they just, didn’t want him.

“That’s a lie.” Logan said but his voice getting farther away. Solace was getting lost in the missed messages they’d been sending him all along, they’d known from the beginning they were soulmates. All the stopping when Solace noticed something, hovering their touches instead of lingering them like they did with each other.

He felt the fabric of something, and a hand somewhere on his back, and slowly he was coming back, but refusing to look up at Logan. Roman must have been the hand on his back, he could see Virgil’s shoes behind Logan’s. “Lo-gan.”

Logan looked up away from Solace, to Roman behind the smaller boy. “What?”

“Your tie.” Roman pointed to the material the student had been using to wipe away the tears collected around the bottom of Solace’s chin.

Logan shot him a look of confusion before looking down, the tie was illuminating with a sharp color, one Logan knew, he knew because it was only color he hadn’t been able to see in months. The only color he’d been missing since that day in his and Patton’s room. He’d worn the tie as good luck, knowing it was grey. “I can see it.”

“It’s grey.” Virgil replied, moving closer, bending down and Solace wanted to lean back to run away. Why were they rubbing it in? He wanted to scream yes, he was their soulmate, yes he’d leave them alone, yes he’d gotten carried away in the idea of true love and them. Far too carried away to remember that no one could really love him. But he stayed put anyway, frozen still, as Virgil found what he was looking for in his eyes and pulled Patton down to see.

“Oh sweetie.” Patton said before anything. Before meeting his eyes, and wrapping his arms around Solace tightly. It was warm, and Solace didn’t move at first. Was too afraid Patton might let go, funny enough. “You knew, didn’t you?”

Solace shook with a sob he didn’t know he’d been holding in, and soon enough the warm that surrounded his shoulders and a small hand’s width of his back, spread to everywhere. It was hard to tell where one boy started and the other began as they clutched onto each other. But Solace didn’t care.

It was so unfair to make him wait this long, but it was worth it. 

A month later, Solace walked over to the window, or rather the large easel blocking the window where his boyfriend stood. The wooden end of the paintbrush in his mouth, causing the tiniest bit of grey paint to drip onto his smock, as he stared down his painting in creative confusion. Solace wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, underneath the smock of course, and rested his head on Roman’s shoulder. Solace mumbled into the spot where Roman’s shoulder met his neck. “S’pretty.”

“Yes, well it’s a lot easier to paint the stormy colors, now that I can see all of them.” Roman laughed, pulling the paintbrush out of his mouth so he could turn his head and press a kiss to the side of Solace’s face.

“Sounds like a metaphor.” Patton yawned, stretching his legs out from his place curled up on the big large bed. It was actually two of the school issued beds put together, since they all needed a place to hang out in, and even though Patton and Logan shared, their room was always a mess. Solace didn’t have a roommate, and didn’t mind sharing his bed with his boyfriends one bit.

“A pretty sad one if it is.” Logan mumbled next to him, his arm still laid over Patton’s stomach from his spot on the bed.

“It’s too early, go back to bed.” Virgil groaned. He wass curled up in the corner and grabbed his pillow to reach behind him and whack whoever was closest to him in the face. It happened to be Logan.

“We would, but Ro’s painting.” Solace teased, pressing a kiss to Roman’s cheek before pulling away and joining the other three back on the bed. He climbed up the step stool he had because Solace was barely over five foot, and wiggled his way in between Logan and Virgil to pull the thinnest boy toward him and into his chest.

“Bleh.” Virgil mumbled, but rested his head on Solace’s chest anyway.

“You love me, shut up.” Solace leaned down to press his lips against Virgil’s, not even paying attention to the other’s morning breathe because as soon as their lips met, he melted. Pulling Virgil a little closer, pushing against him a little harder-

“Hey! Save space for me.” Roman laughed, removing his smock, setting his paintbrush in his cup of water, and full on jumping into bed with them. They all groaned somehow each one of them had been hit by at least one of Roman’s limbs but as he used his wide wingspan to pull them all toward him, they really didn’t care. Patton fit in between his legs, Logan was on his left side, Solace settled near his right shoulder, and Virgil tucked himself in between Solace and Patton, on top of Roman’s legs. “Much better.”

“Agreed.” Came four responses, and soon enough morning turned into afternoon, and sleepy kisses turned heated, and by the time they were up for good, Roman was pointing out the colors in his painting. It seemed every color was there, but the ones that stuck out to Solace the most were the five yellow stars that hung in the grey and blue night sky on the canvas.

[someinvisible-string]

Magnificent and Furious Ch. 8

Summary: After many years, rumors swirl that the Evil Queen is back and filled with more vengeance than ever. But instead of setting her sights on Snow White she goes for the thing  Snow loves most, her beloved daughter Emma. For her own safety, Emma is to be transported to safety on an unassuming merchant ship, where she meets two indentured servants hoping for a way to find their freedom

A/N: All right folks we are over the halfway mark on this fic and I really wouldn't have been able to finish this fic at all if it wasn't for the CSBB and more specifically my beta readers @justanotherwannabeclassic and @eloquentlyenchanted This fic wouldn't be what it is without their feedback and critique. And I also implore that you all go an give @princesse-swan some love for all the gorgeous artwork she has made for this fic!

last chapter/ AO3

Picset

After the hours of walking through the forest, Robin had found a space large and safe enough for the camp. Emma sighed in relief as she and Killian set up their tent alongside the others, though judging by the wary looks thrown over shoulders and the nervous whispers that flew through camp their relief was short lived. She thought back to Killian’s words in the clearing, he was right; these people, her people, needed hope. They needed her.

“All right,” she murmured to Killian as they entered their tent. No one had been interested in gathering around a campfire, instead most opted to turn in after the long and stressful day.

“Hm?” Killian queried as he laid down on his sleeping roll and Emma followed suit, laying down next to him.

“You were right, these people need something to hope for,” she took a deep breath. “I think I need to tell Robin who I am. Who I really am.”

“Emma, are you sure?”

“We know that he has no reason to hurt us and we could really use all the allies we can get. Regina isn’t going to go down without a fight.”

“We?” Killian cocked an eyebrow at her, Emma felt her face flush.

“I mean, if you don’t want to come into the battle with me that’s fine, it was presumptuous of me to assume that you’d just come head first-”

“Emma, of course, I’ll be joining you,” Killian put his arm around her shoulders, “I’m in this for the long haul.”

Emma looked up at him, “But what about Liam? You might not get the chance to find out what happened to him, to find him and the others.”

Killian sighed, rubbing his hand across his face, “I’ve made my peace with what happened with Liam. I can have hope that when you do finally reunite with your parents they can give me the information I want but Emma, lately, this journey hasn’t been about Liam for me. Not for a while actually.”

Emma let his words wash over her if this journey wasn’t about Liam then… “It’s for me?”

“Aye,” Killian met her eyes and for just that moment it was as if the entire world consisted of just her and Killian inside their tent. She didn’t know who leaned in first, whose eyes fluttered shut, or whose hands reached for the other. All she knew was that everything she wanted but couldn’t say was wrapped into that kiss. Their lips met, gentle and shy at first. Killian started to pull away, almost unsure of what they had just done but her hands found his shirt and pulled him closer. She felt his arms wrap around her waist and she tried to pour everything that she wanted to tell him into the kiss. That she was overwhelmed by his commitment to not only her but her family, her people. That she was sorry for what he had lost. That she was certain she wanted no one but him fighting by her side and possibly remaining there once the battle was won.

The next morning, they woke tangled together just as they had that first night (and a few nights after) but now instead of quickly retracting themselves they lay content in their private bubble.

“Good morning,” she whispered, placing a kiss on his shoulder. She felt rather than heard his chuckle. He ran his fingers through her hair, lighting tugging near the scalp.

“Morning love,” he smiled, his voice raspy with sleep. He tilted her head up to kiss her properly, his stubble tickling her face.

“We should get up, get some breakfast before they run out,” she whispered trying to push herself into a sitting position.

“Must we? I would much rather continue what we were doing last night,” he smirked lasciviously at her and held her by the arm.

“Killian,” she quirked her eyebrow at him, reminding him what needed to be done today.

“I know I know, but can you blame me for wanting a few more moments of bliss with you?”

“Not at all but still we should get up,” Emma sighed. She understood wanting to stay in the tent, to keep their illusion of paradise intact, but the drawn and frightened faces of her people came back to her.

“Aye,” Killian said, stroking his hand up and down her arm. “You can do this Emma. I know you can.”

Emma nodded and swallowed trying to believe his words. “Thank you. Okay no time like the present,” she got up and pushed open the tent flap, trying to emulate the long confident strides her mother used to take. Killian hurried after her until the reached Robin, Marian, and Roland sitting together heads bowed.

“Ruth, Killian, you two are in a hurry it seems,” Robin looked up at them, his usually easy smile strained.

“We need to talk to you, all of you,” Emma said. Marian leaned forward in her seat, head resting on her knuckles and looking concerned, Roland’s eyes flashed with fear and he straightened himself as if bracing himself for bad news, Robin stayed still.

“I’m not a scullery maid and my name isn’t Ruth,” Emma said before taking a deep breath, “I’m Emma of Misthaven, daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. I’m the Savior.”

Roland and Marian both looked stunned but Robin instead smiled, “I should have known, you’re the spitting image of your mother.”

“You know my mother?” Emma asked, just as stunned as Roland and Marian.

“Our wanted posters hung alongside each other once upon a time,” Robin explained. “We knew each other in passing, of course, she also used a pseudonym back then.”

“What I’m trying to figure out is,” Roland interjected, “is why tell us now? You had plenty of time to tell us before so why now?”

“Because she’s going to need allies, a lot of them,” Killian said. “We understand if you don’t want to be involved, this isn’t your fight. Hell, I didn’t want to be involved but Emma told me something a few weeks ago that I won’t soon forget. You get a chance to be a part of something, something bigger than yourselves; to bring down the Evil Queen and bring freedom to not only your people but to all the people of Misthaven.”

“Plus if you have terms like protection for your camp wherever you are in the forest-” Emma stopped as Robin held up his hand.

“While you two were both very convincing, I’m afraid you’ve wasted it on us,” he sighed. Emma looked to Killian terrified of what he could say next. “Because my family and I are of course going to help you in whatever way we can.”

“Really?” Emma was so shocked she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Of course dear,” Marian said rising to her feet and embracing her.

“You can count on us mate,” Roland extended his hand to Killian. Killian smiled and shook it.

“Thanks, mate.”  

They agreed to take the rest of their conversation into the privacy of Robin and Marian’s tent to discuss more strategy.

“So I still have letters for Elsa, Merida, and Cinderella as well as Princess Melody of Glowerhaven’s support and Navy, these kingdoms have been allies of Misthaven for years I’m sure they’ll help us,” Emma said pulling the letters out of her bag and handing them to Robin.

“Interesting, it would seem that you are very well equipped to take on this queen then Emma,” he said turning the letters over in his hands.

“With soldiers, yes but there are things that you and your Merrymen can do that they can’t. You’re the best archer in a generation with Roland not far behind you, plus I can’t simply show up at Regina’s door with an army and a sword. I need spies, scouts who can remain hidden and let us know everything we need to know. Regina certainly isn’t going to go down without a fight, we need every possible advantage we can get.”

“This is all very well thought out dear but I have one concern,” Marian said softly. “There are children in this camp, elderly, sick people who cannot or who simply don’t wish to fight in this war. What will happen to them if you take all our best protectors?”

Emma stopped, she hadn’t thought of that. What would happen to them? What could she do to even try to ensure their safety? She began to pace in the small space of the tent, her mind running when she felt something hit her painfully on the hip. She looked down into her bag and found a bottle, no the bottle!

“We use this!” she pulled the bottle out of her bag.

“Isn’t that a bit too small to fit people in?” Roland asked, clearly holding back a laugh.

“It’s magic, the ship will get bigger and anyone who doesn’t want to fight can board and someone can sail them to a safe place until the war is done!”

“Who will sail, where will the go through?” Marian questioned.

“Glowerhaven, it’s miles away from where the fighting will be and it’s an easy passage with an experienced crew. Perhaps some Glowerhaven Naval men will volunteer to ferry everyone to safety and back once it’s safe.”

Marian nodded, her lips pursed in thought, “Yes that could work I think. Emma I just want you to be ready for these kinds of questions, these people have lost everything. Their homes, any prized belongings, their family, their hope. They’re going to want to know they can count on you to everything in your power to keep them and their loved ones safe.”

“I understand, best to try to work out all these questions now so we’re prepared tonight. I don’t want these people feeling more scared and confused than they already are?”

“Why don’t we do something tonight to loosen them up?” Killian said. “I mean there have been some rough times, and while the usual nightly bonfire is nice I think these people might need something a bit more. Look when I was on those ships after all the hard times we’d make port and allow ourselves to relax even if it was just for one night. A moral boost could really help drum up support.”

“What do you have in mind?” Robin asked.

“Does anyone in camp know how to play any instruments?”

A few hours later they had somehow found enough people who had instruments and who knew how to play them to form a small band of players. They sat off to the side going over different songs they all knew how to play and to rehearse.

“What’s all this then?” a burly older man said as he waddled up to the campfire for dinner.

“Entertainment,” Emma said cheerily as she served him a portion of roast rabbit. She tried not to let the scowl on his face deter her from the plan, most people seemed mildly interested and there were definitely more people smiling than there had been in recent days.

“Some people are going to need some time to relax and maybe some ale,” Killian whispered. Emma tried to stifle her laugh.

“Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves,” Marian came up behind them and put her arms around them. “Are you sure you’re ready for your announcement Emma?”

“I’m sure but I think I’ll wait a little while longer, let people enjoy the food and the music you know?”

“Excellent idea,” Marian patted her on the back. “But don’t you two forget to eat, Robin and I can take it from here.”

“You sure?” Killian asked.

“Of course, you two find somewhere to sit and relax,” Marian said. Emma and Killian wasted no time filling their plates with rabbit and finding a spot near the blazing fire. Several children who had already finished eating had decided they wanted to dance. Emma smiled watching them, thinking of how Charlotte had demanded a dance with her and Emma’s birthday. So much had happened between that night and this night, Emma knew it had only been a few weeks but she felt as if that girl who secretly enjoyed the lush ballgowns and the dancing and feared leadership was a stranger to her.

“You alright there?” Killian asked her.

“Fine, just thinking.”

“I figured,” Killian said, leaving her the opportunity to continue the conversation or leave it at that.

“Charlotte and I used to dance around campfires,” she smiled sadly.

“Well, why don’t we?” Killian put his empty plate aside.

“Why don’t we what?”

“Dance,” Killian said extending his hand to her. “Would you do me the honor of having this next dance?”

Emma looked from his hand to his eyes, “It would be my pleasure.” She took his hand and was surprised when he took the proper dance start, one hand clasping hers while the other rested gently on her waist. The band struck up a new song, a waltz that Emma didn’t recognize, but Killian lead her confidently, spinning her this way and that around the campfire. Emma felt the eyes of the others on her and was dimly aware that other couples were joining them in their waltz.

“Where did you learn all this?” she whispered to him. “Captain Shakespear?”

“No I had just always heard the most important part of dancing was picking the right partner,” he smirked but Emma could tell there was something he was keeping from her. “Okay, my mother was determined to teach Liam and me how to be gentlemen and part of that was making sure we knew how to waltz.”

“Well she’s a good teacher, you have yet to step on my feet and that’s something not many men seem to be able to avoid,” she said as he spun her out.

“Ah, but I’m not most men darling,” he whispered as he pulled her back in and placed a small kiss on her cheek. Emma hadn’t realized they had stopped spinning and were instead standing and swaying to the beat.

“You definitely aren’t,” she said and tilted her face up to kiss him properly, pushing back thoughts that this would probably be their one and only dance together.

“What in the name of the gods are we doing?” a voice boomed out, Emma turned away and saw the man from earlier storming towards her and the other dancers. “Dancing while the queen tears out hearts and burns down villages? Do you all have any heart left or did the Queen miss a piece?”

“Mate, people just wanted a night to relax; to boost morale,” Robin said walking up to the man.

“You think watching a bunch of you lot dance around is going to do anything? My wife is dead, my children are dead, my friends, my neighbors, my village all burned to ash. By someone who let's face it should have been gotten rid of years ago. And not banished to her fucking castle mind you, I mean in the ground six feet under. Snow White let this all happen again when she had the queen in her possession, but she just let the bitch fuck off back to her castle.”

“Hey! This is not all Snow White’s fault,” Emma shouted.

“How is it not? She wasn’t strong enough to get rid of this problem when she had the chance,” the man fired back.

“Showing mercy isn’t weakness, showing kindness to someone who has been horrible to you is strength, you ignorant dolt. And Snow White wondered for years if she made the right choice, she has more strength in her little finger than you do in your whole body.”

“Oh, and how would you know if she ‘agonized’ about her decision to let a murderer walk free?”

“Because she told me!”

“You? Why would she tell you? Who the hell are you to her, her scullery maid?” the man guffawed.

“No, her daughter,” Emma said turning and addressing the crowd. “I am Princess Emma of Misthaven, daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. I am the heir to the throne and I vow to you sir and all of you that I will stop Regina.”

Shocked faces looked back at her accompanied by the loud snickering of the man, “And how can we believe you?”

Emma pulled the letters from her bag, “Royal stationery with the seal of the Misthaven Royal family.” She held out the letters for observation. “I know these times have been hard, everyone believed the Evil Queen to be a thing of the past and now she’s back. I’m not saying defeating her once and for all will be easy, this will be a war these kingdoms have never seen before. And I’m going to need help, now I can’t force you all to fight for me. I understand if you don’t but we are going to need all the help we can get to beat Regina and bring peace.”

“Fight for you? Are you mad?”

“If you don’t wish to fight then you have options; any children, elderly, sick people or people who are not willing to fight will be ferried to Glowerhaven where you will be safe and looked after. Once the war is over you may return to Misthaven if you so wish. But I implore you, if you are able, to join me and be a part of something. Something to tell your grandchildren about, something to be proud of, or because you know in your heart that this is the right thing to do, to help me fight and win us back our kingdom!”

Emma looked out around the camp, she had imagined that after she made her announcement that everyone would cheer, pump their fists in the air and that at least more than half of the able-bodied men and women would come forward. Instead, she was met with averted eyes and shifting steps. Mothers pulled their children closer as if Emma was going to snatch them up.

“Pretty words, sweetheart, but we’ve no fight left,” the man said, his words full of pity and condescension.

“There- there must be someone,” Emma stuttered.

“No there isn’t, run off now, little girl,” the man said. Emma wanted to stand tall and puff out her chest, she wanted to stand up for herself. Her bottom lip started to quiver and no, she was not going to let them see her cry.

“Right, well, I’ll give you all the night to think about it,” she said trying to keep the tremble out of her voice before walking quickly back to her tent. Once out of sight she let her tears flow, once out of earshot she let out a sob; how could she have been so stupid to think that these people would be willing to fight for her, to die for her, simply because she asked?

“Emma? Emma!” Killian’s heavy footsteps caught up to her. He caught her by the shoulder and she turned to look at him.

“I’m stupid, I’m so stupid,” she sobbed as she collapsed into his chest.

“Let’s get you back to the tent, come on love,” he guided her back to their tent, his arms wrapped protectively around her.

Roland came jogging up, “Emma, I’m so sorry, I had no idea-”

“Not now, mate,” Killian said, ushering Emma into their tent.

“But I-”

“Not now!” Killian pulled the tent flap shut in front of him. Emma laid down on her sleeping roll, still sobbing and exhausted. Killian laid down next to her, tucking her into her chest.

“I can’t do this,” she whispered into him, tears still rolling down her face.

“Yes, you can, love. This is only a setback, tomorrow we’ll wake up and we’ll figure out a new plan, a better plan.”

“No, Killian, I was stupid to think I was capable of doing this. No wonder they said no, I don’t know what I’m doing. I can’t do this.”

“Hey, hey listen to me. You can do this, you can and you will find another way. Take tonight and you can cry or rage or whatever you want if it feels better. But come sun up you and I and anyone who wants to help will find a new plan, okay?”

Emma sniffled, “Maybe. Or maybe we need to find a new Savior for them.” She turned over, facing away from Killian. She didn’t want to see the look on his face. Killian sighed, rubbing her shoulder in comfort but Emma could sense his disappointment. Two new tears slid down her face, Killian’s silence somehow more painful than the man’s words.

Emma didn’t sleep, her mind felt like it just couldn’t stop playing the scene with the man by the fire. Over and over it flew through her head on an unending loop until Killian’s snores were able to pierce through it. Emma blinked, she had no idea how long she had been laying in Killian’s arms, the pain in her knees and back from laying on the hard ground told her it had been at least a few hours. She turned her head slightly, Killian didn’t stir and instead, he snored even louder than Emma had thought even possible. She stretched and seeing no sign that Killian was going to wake from his slumber she carefully detangled herself from him and got out of the tent. Thinking quickly she grabbed a dagger and stuck it in her boot, just in case.

Her legs took her down to the small stream close to camp, the moon and the dying embers of the fire her only light to guide her. She knelt down, dipping her fingers in the cool running water and bringing it up and splashing her face.

“You’re restless,” a voice said behind her. Emma shot to her feet, pulling her knife out of her boot and holding it in front of her. “Very restless apparently,” an old man was in front of her chuckling despite the knife being pointed at him. Emma took in his wild grey hair and beard and strange robe.

“Wait a minute, you’re one of the new people,” Emma lowered her dagger a fraction of an inch. “Robin took you in a few days ago.”

“Yes my employer told me that it would be imperative to meet you while you were on this journey,” he nodded.

“Employer? Who the hell is that? What do they know?” Emma raised her dagger once more.

“He is all knowing in a way,” the man said unhelpfully. “I am to teach you many things, Emma.”

“Who are you?”

“You can call me the Apprentice,” he bowed his head.

“You’re a little old to be an apprentice,” Emma said.

“One is never too old to learn, especially from someone like the Sorcerer,” he said jovially.

“The Sorcerer? Seriously?”

“Yes, now come Emma. You have much to learn and not much time to learn it in,” he said turning on his heel and walking downstream.

“Hey!” Emma jogged after him. “How do you know what I need to learn? I’ve learned a lot in these past few days.”

“Yes, you have and you should be proud of all that you have accomplished. But I will ask you this, how do you intend to defeat Regina?”

“Well, I gather as many people as I can, strengthen and form alliances with other kingdoms….” Emma listed off things her tutor had taught her about strategy.

“Yes but after that? After you have entered all those people into your conflict?”

“It’s not just my conflict,” Emma bristled. “Regina is sacking and burning countless villages, tearing apart families-”

“All to find you, to settle an old grudge.”

“Yes, I know that,” Emma threw up her hands. “That’s why I’m done hiding in this camp, why I’m taking this fight to her.”

“And how do you intend to end this fight? This generations-old grievance? When you have Regina captured and defeated, how do you intend to ensure that she never rise up again?”

Emma stopped, her breath hitched as she realized what he was saying, “I’ll have to kill her.”

“That is one way, however, that is the answer I feared you would say,” the Apprentice hung his head.

“But you said I had to ensure that she doesn’t rise up again? How can I do that? She has magic for gods’ sake, she can shoot fire from her hands!”

“Yes she has magic, but what makes you think she is the only one?”

“I mean I know other people have magic, Queen Elsa of Arendelle has magic, ice magic actually. Are you saying that she should be the one to finish Regina?”

“You’re close but still no, your answer is at your feet.”

Emma looked down seeing only river rocks, “Huh?”

“You, Emma.”

“Yes me I know I should be the one to defeat Regina, but how do I do it?” Emma balled her hands into fists, she was getting tired of this so-called Apprentice’s circular answers.

“Regina and Elsa are not the only ones to have magic.”

“You think my magic will beat Regina?” Emma was stunned. “But- I can’t- It’s not strong enough.”

“You are the Savior Emma,” the Apprentice put his hands on her shoulders. “With that comes many gifts and responsibilities that may present differently than other forms of magic. Your magic is actually very powerful but in ways that even one such as the Blue Fairy may not recognize.”

“Okay say you’re right, say my magic is strong enough,” Emma broke out of his grasp and began to pace in front of him. “Then what are you saying? Me and Regina should have a magic fight?”

“In a way yes, there is a long forgotten object that will allow you to defeat Regina in a way that not even she is expecting.”

“What does it do?”

“It will strip her of her magic.”

Emma frowned, “Why would that defeat her? She still has power even if I were to take her magic. And besides, why should I even bother sparing her life when she killed countless people?”

“Emma, you are the Savior, you are the person people will look to for guidance, to be a beacon for righteousness and good. There are many paths you can take; each will have their own struggles but ultimately the right path will not be the easiest.”

Emma stood in silence, just letting his words wash over her. “That’s crap.”

“What?”

“That’s crap!” Emma yelled. “You’re saying I’m responsible for everyone’s goodness? I didn’t ask for that! I don’t want that! I didn’t ask to be the Savior!”

“Emma I cannot change your or anyone else’s destiny, but I implore you to open your mind and stop the cycle of violence that has plagued this land for far too long.”

“You’re crazy, I just want to get my family back,” Emma turned on her heel and ran as fast as she could back to camp.

“Where were you?” Killian asked as she burst into their tent. His hair was mussed and there was a mark on his cheek from where he had been laying on his arm and his eyes were full of worry.

“I needed to stretch my legs,” Emma said, it was a half-truth she knew but explaining to him everything she had just learned was just too much for her.

“You all right?” he asked, clearly sensing she was hiding something.

“Yeah, I was just restless,” she laid down quickly, turning away from him. She heard him sigh and felt him lay beside her, his arms wrapping around her again. She curled into his warmth, letting an uneasy sleep overtake her.

[iwritekpopthings]

You (Ch. 17)

Characters: Misun (OC), Jung Daehyun, B.A.P, other side characters Genre/ Warnings: Fluff, romance, slow burn Word Count: 1703

“Misunnnnnnnnnnie” Daehyun came into the clubroom and looked around.

“She’s not here yet, Daehyun-ssi.” Fae glanced up from the sewing machine as fabric piled around her.

“She’s usually here early though.” Youngjae stated as he slung his arm around Daehyun’s shoulders.

Fae nodded. “Maybe give her a few more minutes to show up.”

Daehyun pouted and sighed before nodding in agreement.

Down in the gym, Misun was pounding away on her punching bag. Sera had taped up her hands before she started so she was able to go extra hard.

“I still don’t think avoiding him like this is the best option.” Sera told the younger girl as she leaned against the wall and watched her friend. “Besides, you kind of have to go to club at some point.”

Misun huffed and stepped back. “I know, I know…” She sighed and began unraveling the tape around her knuckles.  After Daehyun’s confession on Saturday, the two of them had spent the rest of the day together. But now, she felt nervous. “What if he’s changed his mind? Maybe it was a dream.”

Sera rolled her eyes and came over, flicking the girl on the forehead. “You know it wasn’t a dream. That adorable necklace is proof enough.” She said, looking at the jewelry hanging around Misun’s neck. “Also, Daehyun is the type to take careful consideration when he makes big decisions. You know that by now, right? He wouldn’t confess just like that and then change his mind. Give the guy some credit!”

“I like him so much, though. It’s terrifying to think that he may change his mind.” Misun sat down and aggressively tossed the wad of tape at the ground in front of her.

“He promised, right?” Sera sat down next to her and stretched out her long legs while she tucked her hands into her hoodie pockets.

Misun nodded. “Yes, he did. But unnie… I’ve been promised so many things and been let down so many times.”

“I know, Misun-ah, but listen to me, okay?” Sera closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall. “You followed my advice, so I’m going to give you some more. The terrified feeling that you have now is actually good. It means you care a lot about him. And that you want him to feel the same. Believe me, he is feeling the same way. He knows about your history. He’s not going to just abandon you like that.”

Misun was quiet for awhile as she considered the older girl’s words. “You’re right..” She finally sighed. “I’m still going to be worried though. I don’t think I can change that.”

“And that’s okay! Just be honest with him and tell him how you’re feeling. He’ll be sure to set you straight every time. I can just tell he’s that kind of guy. Like Yongguk, but even more so.” She smiled at the younger girl in encouragement. “Now let’s get you up to the clubroom. I’ll stay and help out if you want.”

The younger girl nodded and they both got up, gathered their things, and left the gym. On the way, a thought occurred to Misun. “Unnie, how did you and Yongguk oppa meet? You never told me.”

Sera blinked and looked away. “Uhh… You really want to know..?”

Misun nodded, her curiosity piqued. “Of course! It must have been really romantic, right?”

She bit her lip and shook her head. “Not at all, actually. I was really scared.”

Misun looked at her in surprise. “What? If you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay. I can respect that.”

“No, it’s okay. I mean, you did tell us about your history after all.” She glanced at the girl and gave in. “Okay, so over back in June, I was walking back to my apartment at like two in the morning from my work. I lived in a bad part of town, but no one had ever bothered me, so I thought I was safe. But as it turns out, I wasn’t. A group of guys started following me about halfway home.”

“No way.” Misun was surprised and didn’t like where this story was going.

“Way.” Sera stopped walking and sat on a bench near a window. Misun sat next to her and continued listening. “So anyway, one of the guys grabbed me by the arm and spun me around. It was dark and I couldn’t really see very well; I knew self defense, of course, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to fight back against all of them. They told me to come with them and when I said no, they pushed me until I fell over. I scraped up my hands and knees pretty bad when I fell but I wasn’t concerned with that. Suddenly the guy was on top of me and I couldn’t do anything. I was terrified. They were being loud and obnoxious enough that someone noticed as they were walking on the opposite side of the street. He came over and... stopped them.” She paused in her storytelling as she thought about how graphic she wanted to go with this tale.

“It was Yongguk oppa, right?” Misun asked, to which Sera nodded.

“It was. He got them to leave and as he bent over to see if I was okay, I passed out.” She shook her head and chuckled. “It was kind of pathetic. Oppa later told me he was so confused. He had no idea what to do with an unconscious girl in the middle of the night in a bad part of town.”

Misun smiled. “I don’t think I would know what to do either.”

Sera grinned wryly and sighed. “So apparently he then went through my bag and found my ID. It has my address on it, of course, so he picked me up and dragged me all the way there. By the time I woke up, I was in my bed and it was morning. Yongguk was asleep on my couch and I think it was at that moment that I fell in love with him.” She smiled genuinely, looking outside at the snow as she continued. “Like, the sun was shining in through the curtains, hitting his tattoos and his face just right and damn, it was a hot sight to see.”

Misun laughed at the girl’s frank statement. “Then what, then what?”

Laughing, Sera glanced at her watch. “Come on, you’re late enough for club as it is.” She stood up, her hands in her hoodie pockets again as she led the way.

“Nooo, tell me..” Misun begged.

“Maybe some other time.” Sera winked and grinned, enjoying hanging this in front of her friend tauntingly.

“No, you gotta tell me~” Misun tried to use aegyo, making Sera laugh.

“Tell you what?” Daehyun’s head popped out of the clubroom as they approached, having heard their voices coming down the hall.

For a few seconds, Misun just stared at Daehyun and he stared back. Finally she got up some courage. “H-hey…”

He broke out into the biggest smile, his eyes disappearing into crescents as he walked over. “Hi. I’ve been looking for my girlfriend. Have you seen her?”

Misun blushed furiously as Sera made fake gagging sounds behind her. “Um, uh, no..?”

He shook his head and leaned in, pressing his lips lightly to Misun’s. “It’s you, dummy.” Daehyun pulled her into a tight hug, which she returned, a reluctant smile on her lips.

“Well I’m glad you found her.” She replied. She looked up at him and Daehyun winked at her before leaning in and kissing her longer. Misun kissed him back, just enjoying the moment.

“What the actual hell?!” Sooyeon’s screech caused the two of them to pull away quickly and look around in alarm. They saw Sooyeon standing in the doorway, watching the two of them. If looks could kill, Misun would be long dead by now.

“Hey, calm down.” Youngjae put his hand on her shoulder, which she just roughly shook off.

Sera watched the interaction intently, ready to fight, if it came to that. She glanced between the couple and the enraged girl, as she tried to think of a way to diffuse the situation.

“Sooyeon, I’m sorry…” Misun said quietly as she shrank against Daehyun. His hold on her tightened as he looked at the girl who locked his girlfriend in a shed only last week.

“Misun, you have nothing to be sorry for.” He told her. Then he sighed. “Sooyeon, you knew this was going to happen eventually. Just accept it and move on. I love Misun.”

At hearing his words, Misun felt her eyes sting. She nuzzled her head against his chest, willing herself to keep it together. Sooyeon growled and stomped away, tears in her eyes as well.

Once she left, everyone slowly calmed down. Daehyun looked down at the girl in his arms and kissed the top of her head. “Hey, are you okay?”

She nodded and sighed, pulling away slightly to look up at him. “I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

Sera sighed as well and waved. “Okay, Daehyunnie, if you’ve got things under control here, I’m out. I’ll see you guys later.”

“Bye unnie! Thank you for telling me your story.” Misun let go of Daehyun and went over to hug the other girl. “I’m glad Yongguk oppa found you.”

Her friend looked down at her in surprise, but returned the hug with a smile. “Me, too. And I’m glad Daehyun found you.” She looked up and winked at the boy, who was watching them in confusion. She let go and stepped back. “Okay~ See ya.” With that, the girl walked away.

“What do you mean, ‘your story’? Did she tell you about her past?” Daehyun asked, tilting his head to the side.

“She hasn’t even told us that yet!” Youngjae had his eyebrows raised and his hands on his hips.

Misun grinned and grabbed Daehyun’s hand. “Maybe I’m just special.” She smiled, tugging him toward Youngjae as the three of them went into the clubroom to get to work.

“You definitely are.” Daehyun said quietly and grinned as he followed her, loving the feel of his hand in hers.

★☆★☆★☆

[emmaswanchoosesyou]

Rules & Regulations (1/4)

I’m thrilled to present my contribution to the @cssns project! This got both longer and sillier than originally intended, and I hope you all enjoy it. 

Beta’d by the glorious @wingedlioness and with lovely artwork (including the banner!) done by @eastwesthomeisbest.

Rated T, for violence, language, and annoying bureaucracy. Also on AO3. ~3000 words.

He was a vamp, she was a witch; can I make it any more obvious?

&&&

He wasn’t a heathen.

Well, okay, he was, but that was just part and parcel of being a vampire.

At least vampires weren’t the soulless, lurking-in-the-night creatures of popular imagination. No, they had their souls. (Unless they’d sold it to the Devil, a demon, or witch, but any Tom, Dick, or Harry might do that.)

Killian was in possession of his soul, but he might well have lost his mind.

Emma Swan was driving him well and truly crazy.

He was just doing his best, doing what was required of him to fill the void on the Supernatural and Paranormal Beings and Creatures Council (S.P.B.C.C. for short, though it was still a mouthful) since he had killed Rumplestiltskin.

He was following the rules in a way he hadn’t since 1789, and it…chafed. If you were responsible for the death of a S.P.B.C.C. member, you had to make sure their people—or creatures, whatever--were still represented. As Rumplestiltskin was some unknown kind of imp who seemed unique in his essence in this world, there was no one left to represent, but his seat needed to be filled. Some had argued that Killian’s presence on the Council was just giving the vampires more than their share of voices, but that was rubbish.

For starters, Killian couldn’t stand the lot of them. They were old sticks in the mud, mostly traditionalists who went around wearing capes and talking about bloodlines. The others were Reform Vampires—poncy idiots who went on about better unliving through various serums and who were always on social media trying to manage perception of vampires in the non-magical world.

And for his part, Killian was content to reside somewhere between the two. He was here for some good, old-fashioned vengeance and violence, but one had to be practical as well. It was easier to come by coconut water than find someone’s blood to drink, even with the requisite sodium supplements he had to take. After all, leaving a swath of dead people tended to garner the wrong kind of attention.

And that was the other thing—he wanted to be left in peace to live his unlife, drinking his coconut water and from the occasional willing volunteer (gods, but he’d put on a few pounds during the Twilight craze).

He hadn’t wanted a position on the S.P.B.C.C., hadn’t wanted anything to do with it. But then Swan had descended from the sky like the terrifying bird of her namesake (he was disappointed to learn about the missed opportunity for a pun in her name, as she was in fact not a shapeshifter) and harangued him about “murdering” Rumplestiltskin and having to pay his dues.

Which meant sitting on that bloody council.

Okay, fine, he was a bit at loose ends these days. Having fulfilled his centuries-old grudge and finally offed His Glitteriness Rumplestiltskin might have left something of a void. And sure, sometimes he saw eternity stretching out before him like an unending circle of emptiness, but it was fine.

A voice cut through his musings and he jolted to attention. “Jones? Councilmember Jones? Killian Jones? Captain Hook? Do you have any fucking input for once, or are you too busy thinking about bloodbaths to pay attention to us today?” Emma Swan sounded cranky and irritable and a little like she was considering coming over and introducing a motion to punch him.

He smirked. “Sorry, love, I’m afraid you’ll have to repeat the initial question. I was rather dozing, as it is in fact daytime.”

“Not your love, Councilmember Jones. And for the love, come see me or Granny Lucas after the session,” she said, her golden hair cascading over her hands as she rubbed her temples in exasperation.

Maybe there was still some fun to be had after all.

&&&

Emma was going to murder him. Killian Jones might technically be dead already, but she would happily test out different levels of deadness.

He was impossible.

She was just trying to keep this stupid council with its stupid acronyms and stupid councilmembers running smoothly.

She hadn’t wanted this job, this position. She just wanted to work on her spells and occasional potions, help some people, and pay her bills.

But no, she’d had to go and help people a little too well. Now it was Savior This and Savior That, all for breaking a measly curse and talking a witch queen off the ledge and reuniting her with her love.

She had been going about her life much as she had since she had accidentally teleported away from a crime scene (now that was a tale) where an ex had left her literally and figuratively holding the bag. Emma certainly hadn’t intended the escape she’d made, but she could hardly complain, either. And she’d been curious about how she’d done it, to put it mildly.

A lot of internet searches, the fortunate discovery of a coven that met for a weekly book club at her local library, and maybe-not-coincidental of the discovery of a talking kitten named Henry later, she knew what she was—a witch.

Fast forward a few years, and she’d found a home of sorts up in Storybrooke, and the three of them had opened a little shop selling various magicks and magical items.

To her surprise, Emma had found she gravitated toward light magic, especially of the healing variety, though she was good with technological stuff too. And Henry, once he was grown, was very helpful. He still occasionally knocked over things on her work table, which could be problematic—he was a cat, after all—but his advice was usually sound.

She really hadn’t intended to get drawn into anything more than her perfectly satisfactory life. But then Ruby, werewolf, customer, and sometimes friend, had asked her for help. Unless someone stopped it, there would be a curse enacted.

Regina, Queen of Misthaven, had come to power 28 years before, after deposing the previous queen and her husband, cursing them to eternal sleep. Eternal sleep was eternal in the way that vampires were immortal; it could be interrupted—by death or the rupture of the curse—but would continue until something came along and meddled.

It seemed that becoming queen and cursing her former rival wasn’t enough for Regina, though. Her unhappiness increased, compounded by her magical subjects’ dislike and the distance of the other S.P.B.C.C. members kept from her. She had decided to enact a spell to doom them, all her subjects, to go back in time and live lives of medieval drudgery.

Ruby had no interest in that. To begin with, her girlfriend wouldn’t approve, and she would miss the whole voting thing. Aside from that, saying goodbye to Netflix and electricity was just unacceptable. And Ruby was far from the only concerned party.

Emma was stumped. After all, what could she do? She’d known she was a witch for a decade, and stronger people than her had attempted to do something.

Most people trying to deal with the situation, though, hadn’t had the benefit of being raised non-magically.

Sure, magic could solve a lot of problems (and create them just as easily, but that wasn’t the point). But sometimes? The best solution was good, old-fashioned, and non-magical. In this case, it meant using her investigative skills to find a dragon that had been hiding from the magical world and who was supposedly powerful enough to help.

Well, it turned out that the dragon was an ex-girlfriend of Regina’s, and reuniting the two of them had done wonders. Regina backed down from evil world domination and had even been amenable to the equally non-magical suggestion of therapy.

Maybe there was something to the whole love thing after all.

Once Regina had thawed a bit due to Maleficent’s calming presence, she had tried to break the curse of eternal sleep she had put on Queen Snow and King David...all to no avail. The only spells capable of waking them required a blood relative—a living, breathing, and awake one—and both of them were the only ones left from their families, their only child having disappeared as a baby (another unfortunate result of one of Regina’s spells).

So imagine Emma’s surprise, when, as Regina was attempting show Emma one of the spells that wasn’t working, Henry jumped on her—Emma, not Regina—and clawed her.

She scolded him, not noticing right away that blood was welling up from the gash he’d left on her hand. She didn’t notice when the blood dripped right in the pathway of the spell Regina was casting, or how her eyes widened.

Regina noticed, though. They all noticed when this spell, instead of doing nothing like the previous attempts, woke up Snow and David.

And that was how Emma learned that she was their long-lost child, the missing child of the queen and king.

It had been awkward, to be sure. Finding family you didn’t know you had, accompanied by the weight of royal expectation, took a lot to adjust to. That was to say nothing of having parents who looked the same age as Emma and had last interacted with the world in the ‘80s. (There had been a shoulder pads intervention, fortunately.)

It was...hard. After a life lived on her own and having grown up in the foster care system, Emma wasn’t exactly one for opening up and sharing. But seeing how hard Snow and David were trying to reach out to her, she was willing to try to meet them halfway.

After some negotiating with her parents, they had worked out that in light of Regina’s resignation (and she swore a blood oath to live peaceably with Maleficent all her days, but the fact remained that it left an open S.P.B.C.C. seat), Emma would stand in at the council meetings. And she didn’t have to wear nearly as many poofy robes and old-fashioned witches’ hats as her mother had originally wanted.

Her mother had originally been offered the position, but she had turned it down, citing a desire to catch up on everything she’d missed. To her parents’ glee, Emma accepted the seat when it was offered to her in her mother’s stead. Not only did it give her a way to connect with them, it gave her parents time to connect with each other and the world again, as a lot had changed over the past thirty years. That was a lot of Netflix to binge.

Honestly, it wasn’t the worst. Some days, Emma even enjoyed her work with the Supernatural and Paranormal Beings and Creatures Council. She had put a lot into it, and eventually she’d been elected Speaker for the council, which was pretty miraculous given the tensions between witches/warlocks and vampires.

It hadn’t taken Emma long in the supernatural world to learn about the longstanding enmity between her people and the vampires.

If the non-magical world was to be believed, the real beef was between werewolves and vampires. (But maybe that was the issue—the werewolves were content with the beef, while most vampires didn’t care for cow blood or other byproducts.)

In reality, it was trickier. Sure, there were some tensions between werewolves and vampires—there were between most of the different supernatural and paranormal groups and species—but they mostly got along. In fact, they often played emissary between the vampires and witches, as they had common sociopolitical aims with both.

Emma shook her head—she didn’t have time to get side-tracked musing over her own damn life story and the history of a low-grade feud between magical beings right now. She had council business to attend to.

Council business that, unfortunately, included Killian Jones.

She scowled. That vampire had been a pain in her ass since the first whisper of him she’d heard. He was just...ugh.

On some level, she could accept that in the magical world, he had a right to be on the council as the one who had defeated Rumplestiltskin. The magical world had a convoluted law that boiled down to stating that anyone who defeated another supernatural being in combat could—and should—assume their posts and responsibilities. As an American, she was appalled. It was a lot to take in and reconcile.

And that was to say nothing of the man—or man-pire, as Angel would have said—himself. He didn’t want to be there, that was clear. He was obviously just there to avoid negative legal repercussions of having taken revenge on Rumplestiltskin (for what, Emma was fuzzy on the details). He didn’t much care for the other vampires or anyone else there.

Unfortunately, that made him one hell of a swing vote. He was unpredictable and didn’t follow traditional vampire allegiances, which made his presence on the council...interesting.

Not that she was interested.

She held in a sigh. The council was trying to get some work done on a law that would regulate different supplement vendors and how they could market to supernatural and magical beings, but they were running into all kinds of issues with the different vendors.

Truthfully, Emma found it incredibly dull, but something had to be done to break up the gridlock, and Jones was one of the most likely to be able to swing the vote. It galled her, especially when he couldn’t put on his professional pants and be the grown-up he was. God, he had to be at least 250, so couldn’t he act like it?

She motioned Granny Lucas over. They approached him where he stood talking to one of the faeries, and Emma cleared her throat.

He turned around and smiled. “I was hoping it would be you, luv.”

&&&

Gods, but it was so delightful and delightfully easy to rile Swan. The way her cheeks flushed and her fist clenched...it did things to him.

He was bad man. Or vampire, whatever.

Quite frankly, Killian couldn’t care less about the whether one clan of gnomes or another received the bid or contract to produce supplements. He wasn’t even sure that’s what this session was about, but he knew it was something of that sort. Probably.

Even if he had paid attention, it was worth it to rile Emma. He would say she was delicious, but that had connotations he didn’t intend. He didn’t want to drain her, for Christ’s sake.

There was just something about the reddening of her skin that had him wanting to bite her...just not in a vampire way.

He’d had lovers since Milah died. It had been over two centuries, after all, and he wasn’t a monk. While he’d treated them with the respect due to them as people (or faeries or witches, etc.), none of those relationships had been particularly lengthy or meaningful to him.

And if he could seduce Emma, he didn’t figure she would be either, even if she was a spitfire. Hell, she kept him plenty interested as it was, and he’d only ever seen her remove her jacket once. (It had been to punch one of his fellow fanged ones on the council, and he’d loved every moment of it.)

Whatever transpired, it would be fun.

&&&

“Is something funny, Hook? Are we entertaining enough for you?” Emma bit out.

She was tired. She wanted to go home and curl up in her chair, and have Henry come purr next to her. Or sass her and tell her to feed him, which was probably more likely. Either was better than this.

And then this asshole whose vote mattered had to be the way he was.

She knew he hadn’t listened to her. It wasn’t her fault the minutiae of supernatural government was boring, and 142 other people had done okay with listening.

He wasn’t an idiot. He had survived a long-ass time. As a pirate for most of it, no less. And he’d killed Rumple-fucking-stiltskin. So he had to have a brain in there.

Which meant that his lack of listening was due to boredom, even if he had started smiling during the last bit of her speech—a distant, predatory thing that she knew had nothing to do with supplements.

Her head was pounding. She couldn’t afford to have a loose cannon on the council; she needed him to be invested.

“Look, Jones, what’s it going to take to get you to give a fuck?” she asked, shoulders slumped.

Granny looked at her in surprise. Killian did too, eyes widening before he pasted his signature smirk onto his face.

That stupid side of his mouth quirked up, and he bit his lip in a way Emma knew he knew was lascivious. Bastard. “Depends, luv, on what you’re willing to give.”

Granny snorted and said, “Well, I’ll let you two work this out between you,” and walked away.

Traitor.

She forced herself to roll her eyes. “Nothing you’re implying, buddy.”

“Me? Implying things? Swan, I would never say anything that has a double meaning,” he said, after a very fake and dramatic gasp.

“That’s because they have triple meanings,” she muttered under her breath.

“Sorry, what?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

She smiled innocently at him, “I said, we need to discuss your leanings. For the council.”

He gave her a long, considering look. “Dinner. Invite me over for dinner—” at this, he picked up her hand, turned it over, and pressed a lingering kiss to her wrist, “—and we can discuss whatever you’d like.”

Ignoring the burning where his lips had touched her skin, she pulled her hand away. “Seriously?”

“As the supplement discussions, luv.”

“Fine. Come over at seven tomorrow. I’ll text you the directions,” Emma said, huffing.

He scratched behind his ear, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. “I...I actually don’t have a cell phone.”

“Uh, okay. Do you have a...landline?”

“I do. And email,” he blurted.

She gave a sigh of relief. “Okay, I’ll email you the address later.”

Thank god she didn’t have to actually talk on the phone.

[story-timeteon]

Captured Pt. 4

Vuzabar feels a hand to his lips; muffling his screams. He bites down hard and taste blood as he hears an equally muffled yelp of pain.

The room is dark save for a small window, letting in the cold moonlight. As Vuzabar’s eyes get accustomed to the darkness he sees an old man. The man’s other hand is holding one finger by his lips and quietly hushes at the troll.

“My name is Tom and if you release my hand I will let go of your mouth but you need to be quiet otherwise Master will wake up.” Vuzabar nods and opens his mouth, granting him a sharp hiss from Tom.

Tom is a very gaunt old man with long unkempt hair. He looks well into his late years with hair white as snow and more shriveled than a raisin. He moves quickly over to a table standing in the moonlight and waves his arm around muttering to himself about misplacing items. He finally found a piece of cloth and wraps it around the hand before tying a clumsy knot on the makeshift bandage.

Vuzabar looks at the old man in slight confusion; the man had spoken in zandali, the troll language. He had a weird accent but it was understandable.

“How… How do you know Zandali?” Vuzabar had to know.

“I guessed right then?” Tom smiled back at him, with only a few teeth left in his old mouth. As he turned around in the moonlight Vuzabar can see that Tom’s eyes are almost as white as his hair, he snarl as he has only seen the undead with such eyes. Tom gestures to keep the voice down.

“Easy there fella, you don’t want to wake Master believe you me.” Tom navigates the room, despite his apperent poor eyesight, with relative ease as he walks closer to Vuzabar again and sits down on a chair next to the troll.

“I guess introductions are in order, no not me. You were brought here a couple of days ago, most of us didn’t think you’d make it.” He waves his hand outward “This here is Gilbert, dont let his face fool you he’s quite the master at cooking!” Vuzabar looks in confusion at the empty spot that Tom points towards. Suddenly someone clears his throat on the opposite side of Tom and starts speaking in a soft voice in a language Vuzabar doesn’t know. “Yes yes Gilbert Gildranel potato potato.” Tom responds in Zandali to the other person. It’s clear that Tom isn’t properly present, he had same pronunciation on both potatoes.

Vuzabar have seen this kind of person before when he was in Zul'Drak, usually emerging from the shadows. Tall and with glowing eyes; their skin different hues of blues or purples that help them blend in with the darkness around them.

Vuzabar interrupt the conversation between Tom and Gilguy. “Where are we and how do I get back home?” Tom’s face turns sad as he “looks” at Vuzabar. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news but… This IS your home now.” His face lights up again. “But don’t you worry Master will take good care of you yes he will!” Gilguy seems to have had enough and goes back to bed. He says something in that foreign language before laying down in a corner with straw. Vuzabar is suddenly made extremely aware of his own bed, nothing more than a layer of straw on top of a stone floor, and by extension the chain going from the wall to his neck. He was quite stuck. He felt stronger, though not as strong as he had been, and tried to open the collar but to no avail. He’d have to wait and it infuriated him; he couldn’t be stuck here, there were hordes of undead still plaguing his home. Suddenly the fury was gone, replaced with exhaustion, and he fell into deep and empty sleep.

He woke up to the sound of a cane clicking against the stone floor, it was the fat goblin again. Sunlight was streaming in from the little window and there were lamps hanging from the ceiling. He saw a lot more people when the light shone brightly and they had all laid in a position of worship aimed at the goblin. The goblin himself was short, fat, and green and had to waddle as he moved anywhere. For a split second the red haze filled his view before it disappeared again, leaving him extremely exhausted. The goblin grinned at Vuzabar and took a hold of his head and started turning it back and forth as if inspecting an animal. Vuzabar wanted to bite, kill, maim, anything but as quickly as the thoughts entered they also left, leaving him more and more exhausted. He got away a weak growl at the inspection which rewarded him with a sharp hit from the cane before the inspection continued. Suddenly there was a bright voice coming from the door and a female goblin entered, barely developed, and started talking to the other goblin. They discussed for a while many times pointing at Vuzabar and the fat goblin stomped off while the young goblin sat down next to Vuzabar and stared in childish wonder.

She bombarded him with questions in Orcish, learnt from adventurers that was relieved to see him not being hostile to them, and he did his best to answer but something kept draining his energy.

She grinned widely at him and pointed with a giggle “You’re my champion!” she then threw herself around his neck and hugged him tightly. She waved as she left leaving him confused once again.

A couple of days passed, everyone else in the room left at sunrise and came back at sundown, usually looking tired and bruised. Vuzabar was still chained to his “bed” though but the others brought food with them for him that they barely was able to give to him from fear. The first few days he snarled at them for showing such fear to his weakened state, but it didn’t change anything in their behavior. He started getting bigger again as well, gaining both weight and mass at an alarming rate. Then one day it was his turn.

The girl skipped in and looked at Vuzabar, shortly thereafter came two oafs; one grabbed the chain tightly and the other unlocked it from the wall, like a chain leash. As he growled at the oafs the girl thwacked him with a metal rod, not hard just a slight sting.

“No, Ruffles, no growling. We’re going to do something fun today!” She giggled again and started skipping out of the room, the oafs following shortly thereafter bringing Vuzabar with them. The sun had just reached zenith and Vuzabar shielded his eyes from the brilliant burning sun. The girl, that told him to call her Princess, led him around town like a parade and a few of the residents stopped and gawked at the weird troll, the ones they were used to weren’t as blue or hairy as Vuzabar. After one round through the small town she pointed at a big cage in the middle of an otherwise open place. “There, Ruffles, that’s where the fun will happen!” The oafs walked into the cage with Vuzabar and set him free, giving him a hard shove to stop any advances, and then quickly got out and closed the gate. “First, Ruffles, you get to sparr I’ve heard it’s important so your sparring partner will be… That bug!” Princess points further into the cage at a big scorpion. The pit had been prepared with some weapons before he had gotten there and he picked up one shield and one mace. “And begin!” It was over a few seconds after it began; Vuzabar blocked the stinger with the shield, cracking the shield from the big stinger, and then smashed the head of the scorpion easily crushing the exoskeleton with the mace. Princess clapped happily and squealed in delight at her champion’s victory and a couple of bystanders that stopped to watch applauded politely, knowing full well that it was an easy fight.

“Sparring is over, who wants to challenge my champion?” Princess shouted out over the gathered bystanders. Nobody answered the challenge and Princess clapped her hands again happily. “Yay undisputed champion!” She rush into the cage, happy and excited about the victory, and jumps to hug Vuzabar. Seeing the gate being unlocked and a way out he catches her with the shield and throw both further into the cage and runs faster than he ever ran before, out of the cage and into freedom, still clutching the mace he waves it at the terrified bystanders and a few run off to get the guards. There was a small patrol that raised alarm with a horn and then the chase was begun. They throw nets, which misses, and fire a volley of arrows at him, he gets one lodged into his arm and grunts in pain, the red haze is layering his mind like a blanket, he runs out the north gate and runs west, east has nothing but the coast. He can hear yelling from inside the town and runs right into the desert.

The sun had barely moved but it felt like ages since he escaped; his breath heavy and jagged from the sprint and his body doused in sweat. Vuzabar’s throat burns from dehydration and exertion but he can see an oasis not too far away he just needs to persevere. The call from town has all but died down and he doesn’t think they are after him anymore, he grins they wouldn’t have survived a day in Zul'Drak. Sun is halfway down but still the oasis isn’t getting closer, better run so he can reach it faster. Vuzabar’s vision is blurry and his legs unsteady, curse that oasis! He collapse onto the ground; the arrow still sticking out of his shoulder and in only a loincloth, the mace having been dropped long ago. Everything is a blur and then black.

He feel hands on his skin, soft with small bumps, he murmurs before drifting off again. Suddenly cold blessed water; he tries to get more but whoever is giving it to him is holding back, making sure not too much at once, his vision still blurry but stabilizes for a moment and he sees the most beautiful troll he’s ever seen before.

There’s a gloria around her head; her tusks are perfectly shaped. Her exotic caramel colored skin with lighter spots. Her curves that are just barely out of sight by her light clothing. He wheeze out through cracked lips: “A-ah a loa of beauty, so this is the end?” The world goes black as he faints again, but this time a smile on his lips.

[jack-manpain-zimmermann]

The Prince

for @wrathofthestag who said she could really use some sweetness today

(I’ve prompted this to other people but it hasn’t bitten yet, so I’m gonna do my best to fill it myself)

tw are all relative to The Hockey Prince  episode but doesn’t go too hard on the details of the OD, still be careful though!

set between Playoffs I and Playoffs II, the night that Jack walks out of Jerry’s - very quick, slight reference to Holster being into Bitty

on AO3

It’s a dangerous thing, the news tab in a search engine. It’s often drawn Jack down a hole of seeking out nothing but the worst things hockey commentary has to say about him. 

After opening tonight’s twentieth browser tab, he had mechanically reached over to turn on his bedside table lamp just so he could indulge his misery even longer. Even if he found the strength to put his laptop away before dawn, sleep was simply not going to come tonight.

The guys had all been warned off by Shitty from trying to bring Jack out of his funk. There were three stage whisper voices in the hallway about an hour after he’d left Jerry’s until Shitty’s lone voice murmured, “We love you, man, fuck everyone else,” against Jack’s door.

Which is why Jack is startled out of a deep blue reverie when a tentative knock comes at about 1:00 a.m. For a moment, Jack thinks Holster might have time traveled as his ten-year-old self into the present day before he realizes that Bittle is the small blonde standing in his door way. His sleep clothes are hanging loose and huge off his frame, and the dim light obscures his face. He mostly realizes that it’s Bittle because of the slice of pie in his hand.

“Sorry Jack, I saw a light on and I didn’t wanna wake you up by knockin’ any louder.”

His accent is as sleepy thick as it is first thing in the morning. “I asked the fellas if it was okay for me to make you a little somethin’ and they said yes, so I thought, what’s better for a crappy mood than chocolate? I wanted you to know it was specially meant for you so of course it had to be French Silk Chocolate Pie—“

“Did you seriously stay up to make me consolation pie?”

Bittle blushes and smiles shyly.

“I bake the other boys anything they want when they’re down and it seems to do the trick.”

Jack tips his chin up once and Bittle shuffles over to the side of the bed as fast as his droopy pyjama pants let him.

“Thank you, Bittle,” Jack says sincerely and nods down at the bed next to him. “Hop on up and take a load off.”

Jack doesn’t even have to move for Bittle to find a perfect nook for himself. The lack of chatter and the way Bittle keeps his arms bundled up around his legs is unnerving, so Jack bumps an arm against him and thanks him again. The shifty look and tight smile he gets in response leads Jack to realize he’s lounging in nothing but his boxer shorts.

“Oh sorry, do you want me to put a shirt on? I get kind of warm at night so I don’t sleep in layers. Shitty loves it obviously but I get that it might make you uncomfortable—”

He’s halfway to putting his plate down to get up before Bittle objects.

“No, no. You’re totally fine!” Jack chuckles as quickly as Bittle blushes again. “Oh darnit, I just mean you can stay put! I gotta get used to half naked jocks around when I move in, won’t I?”

Jack has already settled back in and made a joke of leaning his entire weight against a giggling Bittle as if he didn’t know he was there, and at last the tension has gone.

Jack tucks into the orgasmic silk pie and sighs through his nose in deep pleasure. The chocolate really is working. He looks over at Bittle who’s settling his legs into a flat pretzel out in front of him.

“Those Holster’s clothes you’ve got on?”

Bittle chuckles and grasps at the mountains of fabric. “Yup! He said I can share his bunk tonight since I’ve already missed curfew. Gave me some old stuff he never wears anymore since my jeans aren’t too comfy to sleep in. He said I looked quote adorable unquote, and kissed me on both my cheeks like I’m a dang child!”

A dark curl of displeasure flares in Jack’s gut.

He had known those were Holster’s clothes because they were the only things the guy ever wore to bed in all the time Jack’s known him. Jack never gave so much as a t-shirt to anyone because everyone knows what it means to let another person (who wasn’t a bro or Shitty) wear your favourite clothes.

Jack couldn’t be sure but he strongly suspected that Holster didn’t view Bittle as just another bro. He also suspected Holster knew that Bittle wouldn’t know how it felt to see a person you liked drowning in a sweater and pants that still smelled like you, especially when they’re about to slip into bed with you for the night.

“Eat up, mister!” Bittle waves a hand at him, seeming to have gotten used to Jack zoning out occasionally. “You didn’t eat a thing tonight and you’ll never sleep well if you’ve got a growling belly!”

Jack lets the shadows get pushed away and settles in more comfortably to Bittle’s warmth; the pie making him feel sated.

“So why did you ask me about the beer at Jerry’s?”

Jack’s voice hadn’t been anything other than casually interested but Bittle still looked as if he’d been caught with his pants down.

“Oh! Well, Ransom said you don’t drink and I just assumed that meant you never did, like, ever. Maybe he meant you just don’t drink at parties and I misheard!”

His nervousness seems to fizzle out of things to say and he focuses on rolling and unrolling a sleeve over his arm.

Jack ponders him for a moment.

“You seriously haven’t read anything about me on the internet, have you?”

Bitty shakes his head solemnly.

“Feels too invasive, you know? I already knew you as Jack from Samwell, not Jack as Bob’s son or Jack who had the…”

He stops and looks down, and Jack firmly believes ‘overdose’ is too dirty a word to pass Bittle’s lips. “So I figured anything I find out about you should come from you or one of the guys. You know how much they love you, they’d never tell me anything you wouldn’t mind I heard.”

He looks up into Jack’s eyes then, earnest as a sunrise and pure as snow.

Genuinely baffled, Jack has to put his empty plate down before replying, “Wow. I literally would not believe that from anyone but you. Just… wow.”

He huffs a sigh and looks back down into the owlish face watching him. “I think that’s earned you one bedtime story about me, you think?”

Bittle can’t hide his eagerness. “Oh! Well I mean, only if you… only if you think I should know… anything?”

Jack chuckles and rests his hands over his stomach, licking a few bits of pie crust out between his teeth.

“Well, I was a butt ugly baby and a fat awkward kid at my bar mitzvah, and then I grew about two feet and enrolled at Samwell. That’s about it, eh?”

Bittle snorts as he laughs and shoves Jack’s side.

“I’m sorry if you wanted the details on my bris, Bittle,” Jack says solemnly through a smile on his face. “But I think there might actually be photos of that online too, come to think of it.”

Their laughter settles and Jack looks down at his hands laying one over the other.

“Okay, seriously. Serious now,” he breathes a sigh and looks at Bittle sheepishly. “This is hard, actually. I’ve never told the whole thing myself to anyone before, except my therapist. Everyone’s already read about it before they meet me. Even her.”

Bittle curls his legs under him and turns to face Jack. Both their heads lean back to rest against the headboard.

“Maybe if you tell it like a fairytale? Like, tell it as if it’s about someone from history,” Bittle carries on at Jack’s confused expression.

“You know, tell the story of the hockey prince born into hockey royalty. Here, start it with ‘Once upon a time there was a prince,’” Bittle lowers his voice slightly, trying to sound distinguished.

“From a young age! He knew he was destined for greatness! For he knew that one day he would inherit the kingdom from his father…” He pauses and urges Jack with his hands.

“But… the prince also had a secret,” Jack continues slowly and feels as if he wants to back out.

Bittle’s eyes were  already wide. But this was Bittle, who never judged or made anyone feel ashamed. Jack owed it to him for Bittle giving him the gift of privacy.

“He was scared of failure. Terrified of it.”

Jack saw Bittle’s posture relax, a breath rushing out of him.

“So completely frightened of not being as good a king as his father,” Jack swallows around sudden dryness in his mouth, “that he would stay up every night braced with the fear of mediocrity.”

Bittle reaches out a hot thin hand and presses it into the muscle of Jack’s shoulder.

“And so the prince took… a medicine to calm his anxiety,” Jack had no idea the words were even in him all this time.

“And he slew trolls!” He hears his own voice in a mockery of the exhilarated commentary about him from that time. “And he took more… and he slew dragons!”

The bitterness is seeping through every word.

“But one day,” Jack has to pause. Reaching one arm from where he felt frozen to the bed, he presses his hand to cover Bittle’s where it’s still holding his shoulder. “He took too much. And nearly lost everything.”

At once, like a frantic sequence in a movie, he remembers the cold glass of life and death shattering over him as he passed in and out, and fought for hours to stay on the other side.

The sounds of voices and the sensations of being touched all entering a body whose heart had stopped a second time, was a mystery that he could never share. There were no words to describe it and Jack was extremely grateful. The last person he would ever allow into the true ghoulish secret of death was Bitty.

The moment wings past quickly. Jack squeezes Bittle’s hand and guides it to rest between them. He is grateful for Bittle shifting closer, and tilting the gold of his head so that the bedside lamp was behind him, giving Jack a little more privacy in the dark.

“So he was banished. The kingdom would not have him. He was the talk of the countryside, an embarrassment to his family, and most importantly, a disappointment… to the King.”

He says a silent thank you that Bittle doesn’t move or indicate any further interest at that. In fact, he seems to be relaxing into Jack’s words.

“But the prince would concoct a plan. He would venture back to the land of the Queen. There, he would reclaim greatness… and thereby gain entrance into the kingdom.”

His voice felt lighter now, using Bittle’s lofty tone from before. “And all was going well.”

He smiled wryly, looking down at Bittle as if it say he was finished.

But Bittle’s eyes were serenely shut, his mouth curled up into the remnant of a smile. Jack whispers his name once, tickling against Bittle’s fingertips resting on the blanket. Nothing. Just a slight rise and fall beneath the bundle of his night clothes over his completely relaxed form.

Jack allows himself to look, almost as if he were examining Bittle as a creature from another world.

The kid was so quick and skilled at staying on the move , it was impossible to hold him in full sight for long. Most of the time he was just a crown of thick blonde hair, light as a wisp moving around the spaces of much larger and louder men and boys.

Now Jack can see the fan of freckles over a tiny nose and full cheeks. The way Bittle’s lips aren’t outlined in the skin but just softer and pinker all along their border, ruddier near the opening of his mouth.

How surprisingly bold and smart his brows are despite his face rarely bordering on anything like stern or serious. Jack makes it to the solid, unveined line of his neck as it curved to the joint of his shoulder, exposed and rounded where the collar of Holster’s sweater hung loose, and stops.

Jack sighs and grips his hands together.

“Until, of course,” he murmurs to himself and indulges in pushing Bittle’s hair away from one ear. He smiles at how long it’s grown.

“This little shit came along.”

Bittle’s eyelashes flutter but remain settled on his cheeks and Jack pulls his hand away.

For one dark moment he considers letting Bittle sleep there in his bed, picturing Holster’s confused and maybe hurt expression the next morning. Instead he stands up, gathering Bittle in his arms and avoids all the creaking boards on his way to the attic.

He’s careful about opening the attic door but Holster is still sitting up in bed wearing his glasses and scrolling through his phone in the dark. He looks up in mild surprise and silently shifts over as Jack moves to deposit Bittle next to him. Ransom’s deep breathing above them continues undisturbed by the clouded tension filling the room.

“He fell asleep in my room and I didn’t want him to freak out. Don’t roll over and kill him.”

Jack offers no further explanation and Holster’s steady expression doesn’t request one. He draws the blankets far enough to cover Bittle as Jack moves to stand up.

Between them, Bittle breathes deep once and stretches, tugging one arm free of the blankets and dropping it next to his head.

Jack turns away so that he doesn’t have to watch Holster settling into place and resolves to go immediately to sleep, if only to force his mind to shut up.

[bethereeventually]

Timeline of Events

February 3rd- I was out of town with my boss and her family. I had no car and I woke up in my hotel room realizing that my period was starting and I didn’t bring anything with me because my period never started this early. I borrowed my boss’s van and ran to the store. It never turned into my period. I found out later that it was implantation bleeding.

The whole week between this day and the next I was very tired. I slept so much. I went to sleep really early at night and struggled to get out of bed in the mornings. I was just at a very busy work conference that week so I remember Joey and I agreeing that I was very tired because of my trip.

February 7th- this is when I randomly realized that the period I thought I was having was not normal and I decided to look at my app that I was using to track my cycle (Glow). It was saying that I was 2 days late. I didn’t really believe I would be pregnant, but I had a test anyways so I decided to take it. When I saw the second line I couldn’t believe. I have never gotten a positive pregnancy test before. Unfortunately, I was running late to Night to Shine, which meant I quickly had to leave for the night. I wasn’t going to tell my husband, I wanted to surprise him and tell him in an unforgettable way. But when he came home I was in the shower and he randomly asked me if I’m pregnant. I can’t keep a poker face to save my life, but I also didn’t really believe the test. I responded with “I don’t know”. The test I took I had a confirmation digital test in the box. He told me to take it just to be sure. I wasn’t convinced that I was really pregnant, even from day one. I took the digital test and after 3 minutes of watching it blink, it said yes. I went to the dance all out of sorts but put it aside for the time being. On the way home I went to Publix and picked up another pregnancy test. When I was halfway home, I broke down crying in my car and pulled into a church parking lot as I went over ideas of how the next few months, and years, will now look for us. I came home and Joey wasn’t home, so I fell asleep very early that night.

February 8th- I woke up at like 6:00am and instantly took the pregnancy test I bought the night before. I watched the plus sign appear. I just didn’t know what to make of all this. We had been trying for MONTHS. I had been hopeful for so long that I actually had an appointment coming up THE NEXT WEEK to make sure everything was good with me, physically. But I didn’t feel anything. I was very tired. But that’s all. I ended up joining the WTE app, which led me to their private Facebook group for other moms who were  also due in October. So many different conversations and concerns and topics. I learned so much in those groups. More than I ever learned in school. I learned all about HCG, I learned about symptoms, I learned about how even though I just found out I was pregnant that I was about to entire my second month, and I also learned about all the different kinds of miscarriages. It’s funny to think that I was so terrified of a chemical pregnancy. I actually realized that there is a chance I experienced a chemical pregnancy back in August but since I can’t go back in time I’ll never really know.

This weekend was also the weekend some of our friends ended up finding out. It had snowed in Georgia and our friend owns a cabin up north. I didn’t want to go as my anxiety was through the roof about so many things. But we went and I told one of my girl friends and my husband told one of our guy friends. I also texted my best friend in Spain to let her know. A couple of people here and there also knew- like my cousin and I told one of my coworkers the night I took the test. But I was hesitant to tell people. I would also say ‘these are the dangerous weeks’ and I always said “I might be pregnant”. 

February 10th- Finally the weekend had passed and I went to work that morning eager to call my doctor and let them know I’m ready to come in as soon as possible. Turns out that’s not how things work for your first pregnancy, especially when it’s no risk. When I called they scheduled my first prenatal appointment for a whole month away. March 11th. I was disappointed. But I had a physical at a regular doctor in one week and I called them to request blood work. In my head- the blood draw would be what verified this as a healthy progressing pregnancy. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. 

February 17th- I didn’t care at all about the physical at this point. I just wanted my HCG levels and nothing else. So I finally got them and they were in the 3,000s. They said based on those numbers I’m probably around 5 weeks even though I calculated that I should be 6 going on 7 weeks. This made me feel like I was in the ‘dangerous weeks’ longer. But at least my body was producing HCG, right? (Note- if you aren’t pregnant, you have no HCG, so 3,470 seemed healthy compared to 0). That week I told my grandma and my brother, and that weekend we told each of our parents. It felt more real.

Between all this time and my first ultrasound, I had taken more pregnancy tests. Overall in the course of 4-5 weeks i took 7 tests. I get really sad when I see women watch their line progression now, because the lines were the only thing that helped me keep my faith in everything. And they were a lie. 

March 11th- I finally made it to my first ultrasound. I was not excited like I was a month ago. I only had 2 mornings of morning sickness. I was bloated and my uterus felt really firm and had grown, but nothing felt like 9 weeks pregnant (or 10 based on my own calculations). I knew as soon as I saw the screen. She told me it wasn’t a viable pregnancy, that I could put my clothes back on, and the doctor will speak to me shortly. We discussed options. She said my gestational sac is measuring at 7 weeks and is .1 millimeter shy of the measurements that would confirm or deny this a non viable pregnancy. I had no idea what she was talking about. She said she wants to track my HCG and see what it is just to make sure. She called me the next day to tell me my HCG is increasing and that she wants to get another draw the next day. My Friday reading was 110,000, compared to the 70,000 that is was on Wednesday. In miscarriages, your levels decrease. She requested me to come in on the next Monday just to make sure if anything had grown or changed.

March 16th- Before I went into the doctor, I was classified as have a missed miscarriage. The ultrasound showed that the sac was continuing to grow. At this point it was now 8 weeks. The doctor told me she saw cystic activity and requested I get emergency surgery the next day. She said she believes it to be a molar pregnancy. Wow. 

March 17th- The day of my surgery. Honestly all I’m going to say is right before surgery (once I got brought into the operating room) it hit me hard. I didn’t expect so much to go into such a small procedure. I started to tear up. I noticed everything around me as I was laying on my back under the brightest lights. A particular song was blaring in the operating room. I haven’t heard that song since but it plays in my head often. I never want to hear it again. I just laid there while this guy stuck things all over my side and chest. The anesthesiologist came in and started messing with my IV. They gave me the mask and then I was out. I woke up very confused and very very very tired. They let me lay there for just a little bit before they wheeled me out to the car. And just like that... it was over. My first pregnancy... I only knew about it for a little over 5 weeks but it meant a lot to me.

My body is about to be done with the healing. My pregnancy tests are continuing to read positive and once I get a negative pregnancy test I can go back to the doctors for more blood work. Right now I’m in limbo. And I’m so happy for the people who are pregnant and I’m not angry at them, but I’m angry at my situation. I want so badly to be pregnant and to have a baby. But all of this has terrified me for the realities of pregnancy. I’m making it through all of this and for the most part I’m okay... but at the same time, I’m really not okay. I’m very sad. And I have an yearning for something I can’t do anything about. 

[best-left-hook-jones]

It Is Not Yet Evening (11/?)

A/N: First things first, I am absolutely ecstatic to reveal the new cover art for this fic! I’m so grateful to @mrs-emma-swan-jones for taking time to make this wonderful artwork (I honestly can’t stop staring at it!!). Even if you don’t follow this story, everyone needs to send a lot of love her way :) Secondly, because I received this fantastic piece of inspiration, I went a bit overboard with this chapter and you’ll be getting a lot more bang for your buck. Enjoy! 

Summary: Historical AU. It is 1917, and with the Russian empire on the verge of collapse, Emma - a former maid for the Imperial family - means to escape the imminent revolution and start a new life in London. Desperately fleeing the Bolsheviks and armed with fake documents and a new identity, she sets out to find the mysterious man with the power to grant her her freedom. But the road to Moscow is a treacherous one, and a chance encounter with a wealthy British businessman may change her life forever.

Words: 54,454

AO3:  It Is Not Yet Evening

Tumblr: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

Nikolayevsky Station; March 15th, 1917. 12:47pm.

He had wanted to speak to her about what had happened on the platform. It had seemed like she was nearing to kiss him, he was almost certain that she had been, but every time he looked at her now, all he saw was sadness. It was almost as though she could read his mind, see what had been meaning to ask her and pitied him for thinking that her motives were anything but innocent.

In a way, he wished that they had been. Killian was the first to admit that he had been far from celibate since Milah’s death, but all of the women before had been faceless, nameless distractions that had eased the ache. Nothing had made his heart race quite like the near kisses he had almost shared with Emma. It was terrifying.

He liked Emma. His heart certainly didn’t belong to her, but he couldn’t deny that he liked her. After all, what was not to like? She was beautiful, intelligent, funny and had a good heart that he was still trying to uncover. Any man would be lucky to have her, and Killian had no doubt that one day, someone deserving of her love would win her heart. A far better man than Killian Jones, that was for certain.  

It was a harsh reality, but it wasn’t any less true. He had been resolute in his plan at the beginning; he was going to help her get to her destination, receive similar help in return, and perhaps flirt a little bit. There was no harm in that, surely. It wasn’t as if he were somehow growing feelings for her, was it?

It made him nearly squirm that the answer was no longer a sure ‘no’.

Killian let out a breath and rested his forehead against the double layer of thick glass. Emma had immediately requested use of the cabin to change her clothes when they had boarded the train, and Killian had of course obliged. He had tried pacing to clear his mind, wearing down the already threadbare carpet, but when that had proved ineffective he had given up. Leaning against the wooden panelled walls, Killian tried to make out the blurred objects rushing past the window, but even with the added sunlight, it was impossible.

When he was summoned back inside the room a few minutes later, Emma was curled up on her bench, nose deep inside a book. She had exchanged her simple black skirt for one that was a deep crimson, and her simple white blouse had been swapped for one that was patterned with small roses of the same red. Killian couldn’t help but gawk; red was certainly her colour.

She glanced up from her page as he sat down across from her.

“Would you like to change now?”

Killian thought about it. He hadn’t changed his clothes since the night before, but in order to dress, Emma would need to leave the room, and Killian didn’t want to disturb her for something so trivial. Not when she looked so comfortable, her feet tucked up under her.

“Perhaps later,” he said with a shrug. Emma immediately returned to her book, thumbing through the pages to her spot. He couldn’t tell what the book was - the words on the cover were clearly written in Russian - and by the look of determined concentration on her face as she scanned the text, now was not the right time to ask.   

Not sure what to do, but half-certain that Emma was actively trying to do anything else but converse with him, Killian brought out his own book and tried to read. They sat in silence for the next two hours as the train made its final approach into Moscow. He half expected her to say something when they finally pulled up to the platform, but instead, he found himself packing his bags in further silence.

They were halfway through the station, following the thick crowd through the tall, arched exits, when Killian finally had enough.

“Swan, are you avoiding me?”

She stopped, her eyes widening in surprise. At least he had gotten her attention.

“I am not avoiding you. I have a million things on my mind.”

It was a weak excuse, a reflex garnered from years of practice. For whatever reason, her walls seemed to be back up. He wanted to scream.

“Is that all?” He pressed, his voice as even as he could make it.

Emma looked as though she were about to argue - or worse, deflect again - but something made her pause. She returned his gaze, her lips pursed in contemplation as she mulled something over in her mind. Finally, she looked away, sighing in a way that indicated she was about to share something she had hoped to keep to herself.

“And,” she continued, “perhaps our discussion about the Imperial family earlier set me ill at ease.”

“The family?” He asked, confused.

“I left many loved ones behind yesterday. It makes me nervous, knowing that it may be a long time until I receive word from them.”

Though the words surprised him, they didn’t necessarily ring false to his ears.

“Of course, lass,” he responded, hanging his head. “My apologies for thinking otherwise.”

He had worried that she regretted being with him - agreeing to be his translator. If he was honest, he had also been afraid that their near kisses - twice, now - had been weighing on her mind, and her silence meant that she simply couldn’t decide on how to let him down gently.

How selfish to think that he should occupy her thoughts as often and she occupied his. How arrogant could he be that he should think he was somehow worth her worry. He wanted to curse himself for his stupidity.

“Where are you meeting him?”

Her words drew him from his thoughts, and his scowl turned into a look of confusion.

“Your partner,” she quickly clarified. “You said he would be expecting you here.”

“Oh, yes. Right.”

He scrambled for the little folded note in his breast pocket that Will had given him before he had left. Even through his partner’s terrible handwriting he could make out the swirled letters of the restaurant that he was meant to go to upon arrival.

The White Rabbit.

“Cheeky,” Emma commented, reading through the list of instructions she’d been given.

Killian raised an eyebrow. “Yes, well just wait until you meet him.”

Emma handed him back his note and they set off to find a driver.

It took a few minutes, but soon they were on their way, their luggage packed away in the boot of a jittery little cab that sounded as though it was practically wheezing in the thick snow. After about twenty minutes, the driver chirped out some instructions, glancing into the back mirror at the pair. They had arrived at the pedestrian only street - the Arbat - and would need to walk from here. It mattered little; the weather seemed to be much more pleasant that it had been in days, and after being cooped up in a small cabin for a day, Killian had to admit that the long stroll would do them both some good.

They got out, collected their possessions and paid, before turning down the street that Emma believed the restaurant to be on.

The Arbat, Emma explained, was one of the oldest streets in Moscow. It was far enough from the Kremlin that the nobility tended to leave it alone, and the street had developed almost a rural feel. Since being rebuilt after the battle with the French had left the area in ashes, the street had begun catering mainly to scholars and artists, both of which brought it’s own unique flare. Most of the buildings were all two, three stories high at most, while others looked more modern and reached seven or eight stories high. It was the churches, however, that dominated the view, towering high over the street below, their shadows almost non existent in the grey-white daylight. Electric trams likely frequented the busy street, but with the power reserves drained, they now sat stationary in their tracks.

Emma must have noticed his wonder, for a moment later, she leaned in closer.

“Do not worry,” she teased in his ear. “I will not be letting you out of my sight for a minute.”

He returned her smirk.

“I would despair if you did.”

The restaurant was a small little hole in the wall just off of the main boulevard. He might have missed it if it weren’t for the faded sign hanging outside, written in tall white cyrillic letters and boasting a cartoonish white rabbit rearing on it’s hind legs. It both looked nothing like and exactly like the type of place that Will Scarlet would frequent.

The outside door was unlocked, and they slipped inside easily as the heavy door thudded shut behind them. Immediately the pair were hit with a wave of heat. It was just past four o’clock and the heat from the ovens combined with the candles adorning the walls had turned the room into a furnace. Still, it was a refreshing change from the chill outside.

Killian tapped the little desk bell, and almost immediately, a young woman appeared from a hallway off to the side. She wore a friendly smile, her rosy cheekbones high and pronounced by her long brown hair tied up in a tight knot at the back of her head. She greeted them, her voice up turning into a question that Killian did not understand.

“We are meeting Will Scarlet,” Killian informed her, hoping that the name was enough to direct her. “I believe he is expecting us.”

It was enough. The hostess nodded once, and lead them down the hallway to an arched wooden doorway that led to the dining room. The rooms were cooler in the back, though still warm, likely due to the old stone walls. While the front of house had been apparently renovated, the back retained its rustic charm. Whether the decision was due to esthetics or money, Killian did not know.  

Almost as soon as his foot had crossed the threshold, Killian heard Will’s thick cockney accent echo out a cheery greeting.

“Where the devil have you been?”

His partner, who had moments before been seated at a table in the corner of the small dining room, stalked toward him, his thick, perfectly groomed eyebrows pinched together in annoyance. His hair was cropped too short for the cold weather, and Killian was sure that the tips of his ears would be aching with frostbite by the time they returned to London.

“You were supposed to have been here bloody hours ago, you-”

Will stopped short and his eyes widened slightly as he noticed Emma walk through the doorway behind him.  

“Ah, my apologies,” he began again, slowly and definitely more quietly. “I did not realise you had lady in tow.”

Will had not taken his eyes off of the blond at his side as he’d spoken, but now he looked at Killian, his eyebrows raised and stare accusatory. There would surely be hell to pay later for not informing him of Emma’s presence.

“We were detained,” Killian stated simply, turning to help Emma remove her overcoat before shucking his own. He took their bags and tucked them under the table.

As soon as Emma’s arms were free, Will stepped forward to take her hand is his. “Will Scarlet,” he introduced himself, bowing slightly to place a light kiss on her knuckles. “Trust Killian Jones to go on a business trip and land himself a pretty lady.”

Killian nearly choked. “It is not like that. She is merely a friend.”

“Ah, well, then. My apologies, miss…?”

“Emma Nolana,” Emma finished for him, giving a slight curtsey. Will’s grin widened as he detected the hints of her accent.

“Privet, Emma Nolana. Ochen Priyatno.”

“Ochen Priyatno. Your Russian is very good,” she praised, releasing his hand.  

“Very kind of you, lass. I taught this man all the Russian he knows,” he ribbed, gesturing at Killian.

Emma raised her eyebrows in surprise. “I was not aware that Killian spoke any Russian at all.”

“Exactly! He would not need me if he did, and I am not about to get myself fired. A trick of the trade, my dear. Always know your own worth.”

Emma looked bemused by the quick wit of his business partner, and Killian felt something akin to jealousy curl in his stomach. He had spent the past day and a half building an easy friendship with the blond, slowly gaining her trust and getting to know the real Emma, and here was Scarlet, seconds after meeting her and already charming his way into her good graces. It wasn’t fair.

He stepped up behind one of the carved wooden chairs and pulled the seat out for Emma. She nodded graciously, and he took his seat next to her, while Will moved to reoccupy the chair across from them.

“Well it was lucky that you arrived when you did,” Will pointed out, rolling up his sleeves. “You would not want your food to be served cold on a day like today.”

“What do you mean?”

Will’s eyebrows raised at Killian’s question. “Did Miss Nolana not tell you anything?”

“How could she when you have not stopped talking since we entered,” Killian muttered a bit sourly.  

“Alright.” Will waved him off. “The city is under strict gas hours since they ran out of coal. Moscow only has access to fuel between 7 and 8 in the morning, 11 and 2, and 4 and 5pm. I would guess this is the only place in town that even cares to light the ovens. The owner is a friend of a friend - well, friend might be a strong word, actually - but he is granting me this favour anyways.”

Almost as if on cue, the woman who had brought them in reappeared at Will’s side. Will ordered for himself and Killian - knowing what his boss liked to eat was one of the many things the Will received payment for - before turning to Emma.

“Anything you would like, my dear,” Will encouraged, pushing a menu toward the blond. “Though I would caution against the mushrooms. They are not always what you think.”

Emma nodded, glancing down at the worn piece of paper on the table. She quickly read off her order to the woman, who then dashed off toward the kitchen.

“How was St. Petersburg?”

“Petrograd,” Killian corrected automatically. Will waved him off.

“Changing the name of the city to make it sound less German is a cheap parlour trick to disguise the fact that the Tsar has no bloody idea what he is doing in this war. Call the city by its true name.”

Killian hummed noncommittally. He had felt Emma go rigid in the seat beside him at the mention of the family, so he quickly changed the subject.

“Have there been any developments regarding the shipyard?”

Will made a face. “Our friend Hans seems to think he owns half of the ports between here and Denmark. I am not surprised he tried to buy the loading dock out from under us.”

“Does he have the funds?”

“According to the rumours, yes. But,” Will added, noticing the scowl on his partner’s face, “that is where my expertise comes in. I happen to know that the harbourmaster prefers to deal in favours rather than money. Hans may be rich, but he is no Will Scarlet, I can tell you that. I can manage it.”

Killian relaxed. If securing their shipping dock in Petrograd meant relying on Will’s silver tongue, then it was almost a certainty. Will had been his partner for years, and he knew the limits of what Killian was willing to sacrifice for his company. He did not even need to ask to know that whatever trade that Will made to reaffirm their presence in the busy shipping port would be worth it. Another box ticked.

“I have no doubt that you will. I have heard that Hans is more brawn than brains anyways.”

“Well, fortunately for us, I am loaded with both.” Will smiled up at the waitress as she returned with their tea. The woman blushed and scurried away.  

“Now,” Will exclaimed, rubbing his hands in anticipation, “I have told you what I have been up to. I think it is time for you to explain how you found such a lovely young lady in the few days that I left you alone.”

Killian had expected the curiosity. He had even rehearsed his response on the train, working on his tells and hoping that Will would not ask more questions than necessary. Of course there was no chance for the last bit, but he could dream.

Just as he was about to open his mouth and begin spinning his story, Emma piped up.

“I am afraid the story is not nearly as interesting as you might think,” Emma started, her smile polite, her posture perfect. Perhaps he had not been the only one who had prepared their skit. “I found your friend at Moskovsky station, wandering around as a lost puppy. I am a language tutor by trade, and so I stepped up and offered my services.”

Will’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You mean to say that you travelled all the way to Moscow to help Killian? That seems awfully generous of you.”

Emma laughed, light and innocent.

“No, no. I was already on my way here. There are some supplies that I am meant to pick up here. My employer has a fondness for rare books, and I was the most suited to go.”

She was good. Her words flowed easily, her story convincing. If Killian hadn’t known the truth, he would have been almost tempted to believe her himself. But it wasn’t him that she needed to convince, it was the sharp minded partner across from them.

Will’s surprise seemed to fade, but his curiosity did not. He turned toward Killian. “Is that right?”

Killian shrugged, picking up his tea to distract himself from the urge to scratch behind his ear.

“As you said, you left me alone without a translator. I made do.” He sipped his tea.

Luckily they were saved from further scrutiny as the waitress appeared with their food. Emma had opted for the same thing as the men; a bowl of hot beetroot soup and bread. They ate in silence, the sound of silverware clinking against porcelain dishes the only sound in the room. The texture was slightly more watery than was probably typical, but none of them complained. It was likely the best food in the city, and as neither of the travellers had thought to eat breakfast, the group had to refrain from devouring their meals.

“I have a room for you,” Will started again after a few minutes. “I was not aware that you would have company, so I only picked the one, though it does have two beds. I was.... meant to have the other one.”

Emma’s brow furrowed in concern. “We could not possibly push you out of your room.”

“Fear not, Swan,” Killian reassured her. “Will may look well and proper, but I assure you he is accustomed to sleeping in rough places. I am certain he will find somewhere to rest his head for the night.”

“‘Well and proper’? Someone is trying to butter me up!”

“Really, though, it is your room and I-” Emma tried, but Will waved off her concern.

“I am quite well acquainted around these areas, Miss Nolana. You needn’t worry about me.”

“Worry about you?” Killian snorted. “I am more worried about the poor lass who will have the misfortune of sharing her bed with you.”

He knew very well whose bed Will would end up crawling into at the end of the night - it was the same one he had snuck off to during every other trip they had made to Moscow - and that the lovely lass wouldn’t mind a bit. Still, it earned him a smile from Emma.

“Speaking of which,” Will added, ignoring the jab. “There is going to be a party at Anastasia’s home tomorrow evening. I already told her that you would go.”

Killian’s stomach immediately flopped.

“Will, I am afraid I cannot. My plans have...changed.” It was a reflex that had his gaze flickering to Emma, but Will’s keen eye noticed immediately.

“Well, by all means, bring Miss Nolana!” Before Killian could say a word to stop him, Will had turned to Emma. “How would you like to come to a party, Miss Nolana?”

“Will!”

“If you will not, I might as well invite the lady,” Will pointed out with a wolfish grin. He directed his attention back toward the lady seated across from him. “Miss Nolana. Would you care to accompany me to a party tomorrow? I am afraid that if Killian will not go-”

“Fine, Will,” Killian stopped. “Yes. I will go.”

The thought of Emma tagging along with Will as a date was slightly more than he could stomach. She would be safe enough - the invitees would surely be people that he had met a dozen times or more - but he couldn’t count on Will to keep her company the entire night. Not when Anastasia was there, at least.

Killian turned to her then, his expression equal parts frustrated, apologetic, and hopeful.

“Would you care to go to Anastasia’s party with me tomorrow?”

Emma hesitated, her green eyes flickering between the pair. This was assuredly not the way in which he would have liked to ask her to go on an outing with him. Not that he had thought about it much - well, not overly so, at least. He had thought about it. He had thought about a lot of things regarding Emma lately, some more innocent than others…

He found himself rather nervous of her answer.

“Yes,” she finally answered with a small smile. “Why not? It sounds like it will be great fun.”  

“Grand!” Will exclaimed, clapping his hands together and rubbing them together. “Tomorrow, then. Killian knows the address.”

Will paid little attention to the glare he was receiving from his partner as he dug around in his breast pocket for his watch. Clicking open the face, he nearly started at the hour. “Bloody- is that the time? I need to leave before…” He trailed off as he stood to pull his winter coat over his shoulders. He wrapped the last of his bread in a handkerchief and stuffed it into his pocket. Good food was not to be wasted.

“Killian. Miss Nolana,” he nodded with a wink, as he laid down a wad of cash on the table to cover his check. “I must bid you adieu.”

“It was a pleasure,” Emma responded politely, ever the diplomat. Killian was not as refined.

“Where are you going?” He asked, suspicious.

“Business.”

“Need I remind you that your business is my business?”

“Of course! Even more reason not to delay. I cannot appear to be slacking off in front of my boss, now, can I?”

Killian glared at his partner. “Alright. Just remember to stay out of trouble.”

“Trouble?” Will asked, affronted. “I would never, Jones.”

Killian almost rolled his eyes at the smirk on his partner’s face.  

“Speaking of trouble,” Will continued, glancing again at the pocketwatch in his hands. “You might want to find yourselves at the hotel sooner rather than later. The city goes dark at 8 o’clock. Though,” he added with a wink, as he began to walk away. “I have no doubt that you will find other ways to keep yourselves busy.”

Killian didn’t need to look to know that Emma had flushed at the words.  

“Piss off, Will,” he couldn’t help but mutter as his partner made his way toward the stairs, waving farewell to the head server as he left.

“Mind your language, ol’ chap!”

As was often the case with Will, the room seemed to turn quiet with his departure. It was one of the most tactical tricks about his business partner; his ability to leave a room and make a person long for more. More energy, more lightheartedness, more excitement. Despite his earlier jibe, he really was an indispensable member of Killian’s team and there were more than a few antics that Killian had let slide because of his talent. If anyone could sell water to a fish, it was Will Scarlet.

“That man must have the ears of a fox,” Emma remarked, her eyes lingering on the doorway.

“I apologize for my partner. He can be a bit much,” Killian sighed, an anxious knot forming in his stomach. “Do you mind very much? About the party, that is. I know it is last minute...”

“Not at all, I am sure it will be fine. It is only that I am afraid I have not brought anything to wear.”

“We can take care of that. I will need to buy some things tomorrow as well.”

“Alright.”

They slowly finished their meal and paid, handing each waiter a generous tip that left the staff beaming. Emma smiled as the owner walked them to the door, the jolly man singing their praise in a way that only a friend of Will Scarlet’s could. It was only after Killian promised that they would be back soon that the man finally granted them a moment to make their escape. Even then, the owner stood on the stoop and watched the pair set off for the hotel, and Killian couldn’t help but wonder what a Muscovite had to do to stock enough food to run a restaurant in a country currently plagued by famine. Perhaps it was best not to know.

They walked arm and arm down the snowy street, their bellies full and warm from the hearty meal. A good thing, too; it was barely half past six and the sun was already beginning to set. Soon, the little warmth that the daylight provided would soon be gone entirely and the city would be dark and cold once more.

Yet, even at dusk, the city seemed full of life. The street was filled with chatter as Muscovites rushed home from their jobs, eager to get home before the horizon extinguished the last of the light. A few children played in the streets, bundled in whatever their parents had found suitable to protect them from the cold. They would no doubt be scolded by their parents when they returned home with soggy mittens, but for now, at least, the fun could continue.

The hotel was only a few blocks away and, for once, Killian knew the route well. It was the same building that Will had rented out every time they had travelled together to Moscow. Still, it had been a while since they had made use of the accommodations; Anastasia had insisted on hosting them for their first night back in Russia the evening before they had set out for Petrograd, and Killian was unused to making the trek through the city without Will.

He felt a flash of pride when they finally rounded the corner and the weathered, grey building came into view. It was nothing fancy - as head of his unit, Killian insisted that business trips be expensed accordingly, even for the higher ranking positions - but the sheets were clean, the doors had locks, and Will swore up and down that the tenants outnumbered the rats.

Just as he was about to ascend the short flight of stairs that led to the entrance, Killian felt a tug on his arm. Emma had stopped, and was glancing warily at the building.   

“I am not sure that I should accompany you. Perhaps I ought to get my own room.”

Killian furrowed his brow in confusion. “Nonsense. We have shared a room before, and Will has assured me that there are two beds.”

“It is not that,” Emma insisted, her gaze flickering to the door. “I only worry how it will look for you if you arrive with, well, me on your arm.”

“Fear not, Swan,” he reassured her, slipping his arm out of her grasp to take her hand instead. “I assure you, this establishment has seen far more questionable women passing through it’s doors.”

Emma appeared to pale slightly at his words.

“I was only trying to protect your dignity.”

“My dignity is quite well protected, Swan,” he chuckled, reaching up to place a hand on the doorknob. “You are quite possibly the most unique woman I have ever met, but I do not think that they will suspect you of it. Now, shall we?”

He nodded his head toward the wooden entranceway, and after another moment’s hesitation, Emma shifted her bags in her hand and followed him up the stairs.   

The receptionist nearly leapt from her seat as the pair entered. The novel that had been clutched in her hands had been immediately tossed aside, an envelope shoved in between the pages to mark her spot, as she reached for the ledger beside her. She was an older woman, her hair already white as the snow outside, but she was quick, and after a rushed - and rather ingenuous - greeting, she was pushing the leather bound book across the desk toward them. Emma responded politely as the duo removed their hats and gloves, brushing the snow from their clothing where it had gathered in clumps. The ease with which Emma switched languages on a dime never ceased to amaze him.

Killian picked up the pen from the desk and signed his name where Emma indicated that he should. His eyes were fixed on the form in front of him, and as such, he missed the cause of the old woman’s indignant huff. He looked up quickly, catching the moment that Emma shoved both of her hands into her pockets, her cheeks flushed scarlet in embarrassment. The woman was nearly glaring in disapproval, and Emma gave a nervous smile before replying to a question that he hadn’t be privy to.

The woman rolled her eyes, but reached into a drawer nonetheless and retrieved a single key with a number engraved into it. After ruffling through another drawer, she produced a single candle in a small holder, using the oil lamp on the table to light it. She made to hand the candle to Killian, but upon showing that woman that he hadn’t enough hands to carry everything, the woman passed it to Emma. She muttered some instructions, performed some hand motions that Killian was just able to make out as directions, before snatching back the ledger and retreating into a back room behind her.

Killian raised his eyebrow at Emma in question, but she simply shook her head and led him down the hallway that the woman had indicated.

As promised, the room contained two narrow beds that mirrored each other on opposite walls. The room also contained two identical bedside tables, a large standing mirror, a dresser, and a coat rack. A stone fireplace sat in one corner of the room, though the city had run out of firewood long ago and the pit now housed only soot and ashes. There was an old room partition cramped in one corner, but other than that, the room provided little privacy. Not that it mattered; the night was still very young, but the pair were exhausted and were ready to sleep in proper beds. Besides, without any real light, there was not much that they could do.

The pair split off to change into their sleepwear, with Killian taking the first shift so that Emma was not forced to be alone in the hallway in only her sleeping garments. When Killian had finished, he lay his wooden hand on the dresser and snatched up his bottle of rum. Set, Killian moved into the hallway to stand guard as Emma took her chance to change. He leaned against the opposite wall, bottle in hand, as the lock clicked shut behind him.

All at once, the light from the room that had been illuminating the hallway vanished, leaving only a faint glow from underneath the door. Killian felt a pang of guilt at not realising that Emma had been left in the dark while he had been changing. He pulled out a match from his pocket - he had learned long ago to keep a matchbox on his person for just these reasons - and struck it against the wall. The tip immediately sparked into flame, casting a faint glow around him.  

The candle holders anchored to the walls were all empty, the cost of burning more candles than needed either too high or the stinginess of the landlord too great. Killian didn’t know which, but had a feeling that it might have been both. The fact that the hotel was able to operate at all given the rampant poverty was impressive as it was. Thinking about it now, he had yet to see another soul in the building. The hallwalls all seemed deserted, the lack of sound a jarring change from the hours spent on the rattling train. The matchstick burnt out then, and Killian didn’t bother lighting another one.

Killian waited, sipping his rum, until the sound of the lock on his room door being clicked open shattered the silence. He waited for Emma’s head to pop out and invite him in, but when that did not happen, he pushed off from the wall and moved closer. Tucking the bottle under his left arm he placed his right hand on the doorknob, and listened. Nothing. A slight twist and a soft push later and the door swung open easily.

Emma was already in bed, the sheets pulled up high on her torso so that only her blond head was visible. She was turned toward him, her eyes barely visible in the low candle light. She seemed to be watching him, her hands clutched around the blankets in order to conceal her body. The sudden defensiveness had Killian frowning in confusion. It was not the first time that they had slept in the same space, and, indeed, this space was much more accommodating than the cabin. Why would she suddenly be embarrassed? Unless...

Ah.

Emma had likely not prepared her luggage thinking that she would be sharing her space with a man.

He looked away immediately, noticing that Emma had moved the candle to his bedstand and assuredly not imagining the clothing that the beautiful blond had hidden underneath the covers.

“How are you finding the accommodations?” He asked, scratching behind his ear. It was a stupid question, but it was far better than admitting where his true thoughts had gone.

“Yes, thank you. I must remember to thank your partner again tomorrow for his generosity.”

Killian hummed noncommittally, walking over to his own bed and sitting down. If he was honest, he didn’t believe his partner required any more praise than was necessary. He remembered the comment Will had made as he was leaving and nearly blushed all over again. He wondered if it was on Emma’s mind as well.  

“You need not worry about Will,” he tried lamely. “He is a fine chap, even if he is a little overwhelming at times.”

Emma nodded, though it wasn’t clear whether she really agreed with the statement.

When she said no more, Killian tucked himself into the thin sheets and snuffed out the candle. The room was immediately plunged into total darkness. Even on the train, the low burning lamp light had broken the blackness enough to see some. The feeling of his eyes trying and failing to adjust was disorienting, and he found himself missing the sight of the woman across from him. He doubted she would run away and disappear into the night, but the discomfort was still there.

It was only when he heard her faint voice pipe up across the room that he relaxed some.

“Who is Anastasia?”

Killian supposed he should have realised that Emma would be curious as to the identity of the lady at the other end of the generous invitation she’d received. Someone in Emma’s sensitive position would have to be.

“In a better world, I think she would be Will’s fiance.”

He listened to the floorboards creak as Emma settled into the bed. He thought she might be facing him now, but he couldn’t be certain.

“How do you mean?”

“They have been in love since they were practically children. Will’s father travelled for work, and Will was brought to Moscow as a youth to study.”

“Hence the Russian.”

“Precisely,” he nodded, forgetting that she could not see him in the dark. “They met, and have been smitten with each other ever since.”

“Why have they never wed?”

“Anastasia’s parents do not approve of foreigners. They barely allowed the friendship, let alone a courtship. Will insists that they will one day run away with each other, her family be damned, but…”

“But?”

“I am not certain she will ever be ready to leave her family like that,” Killian admitted. “Not even for Will.”

There was a hum of understanding. Of course Emma would understand that, Killian thought. If anyone recognized the importance of title and status, it would be the woman who had grown up smack dab in the middle of it all. For a brief moment, Killian wondered if a man of status had ever caught Emma’s eye. A duke, or perhaps even a visiting prince. He wouldn’t blame her; Emma might have been closer to royalty than most people would ever dream of being, but she was still a red-blooded woman, capable of wants and urges similar to his own.

“Have you been friends long?” Emma asked, intruding his thoughts.

“A few years now, yes.” Killian considered his words for a moment, before adding, “I first met him in jail.”

He thought he heard a gasp.

“You were in prison?”

Killian grinned at the surprise in her voice. It was childish, but he enjoyed the idea that Emma was not the only one with a mysterious past.

“I spent a night in a cell for drunken disorderly. I believe I was too intoxicated to recall my own name, and the police sergeant had decided to wait until morning to determine who I was. Will was brought in a few hours later, I believe. He had been arrested for breaking and entering - possibly theft as well. I never did find out.”

“You two make quite a team.”

“We did,” Killian chuckled. “Will was somehow able to convince the officer that the house belonged to a friend of his and that he had heard a noise and had rushed in to investigate. He was able to recount every last detail of the inside and told such an elaborate story about his friendship with the owner, that the officer finally believed him and let him go. But just as he was about to leave, he turned and said to the officer, ‘well, if you are going to let me go, you might as well release my friend here. He was only trying to watch my back.’”  

“So he had not been robbing the house?”

“On the contrary, he had robbed that house before.”

Emma let out an unladylike snort at that. It was rather charming, Killian thought.

“Why did Will have you released as well?”

Killian shrugged. “I believe simply to show that he could. He is a bit of an arrogant sod.”

Instead of an answer, Killian heard the sound of sheets being rustled and a body rearranging itself on the thin mattress. It wasn’t the most comfortable bed that he had ever slept on, to be sure, but it was still miles better than the leather benched they had been sleeping on. Still, Emma seemed to be struggling. A moment later and he thought he could hear heavy breathing - not the explicit kind. Was she was attempting to warm her fingers with her breath?

“This is a far cry from the soft palace bedding, I would guess, is it not?” He teased lightly.

“Yes.” He had definitely heard her teeth chatter that time. “Dear lord, it is freezing,” she finally murmured.

The temperature in room had certainly begun to drop, the insulation poor in the old building. He had started to feel a slight chill as well, but his experiences growing up in poverty had made him a veteran of the cold.

“Come over, Swan,” he called out into the dark.

“Over?”

“I can make space on my bed for you.”

“I cannot sleep in your bed!”

“Well, you cannot very well freeze to death five paces away from me.”

“I hardly think I will freeze to death,” Emma snorted, but even then there was a slight shake in her voice that gave her away.  

There was a long pause. “Very well then.”

Killian heard the distinct rustling of sheets being pulled away followed by the soft groan of old floorboards bearing weight. There was a tentative pause as Emma no doubt considered how to make the short journey in the pitch darkness, but a moment later there was the patter of bare feet on wood. The steps were halting, and Killian could imagine Emma’s arms reached out in front of her, blindly looking for the edge.

“Right here, love.”

Just then, her fingers brushed his in the blackness and Emma let him guide her onto the narrow bed.

“You just mind that you keep your hands to yourself,” he heard her mutter, as she slipped her legs under the sheets next to him.  

“Ah I am afraid I have left one of my hands on the shelf by the door. Is there another attachment you would prefer?”

“Very funny.”

He scooted over to the far edge of the bed to make room for her, but even then, there was little room to spare. He felt the tips of her hair brush against his cheek as she twisted and turned in an attempt to make herself comfortable in the narrow space beside him. Killian felt Emma’s long legs cozy up next to his under the sheet, though the comforter appeared to be trapped in a mess around her hips, but it was the sensation of small ice cubes being pressed to the exposed skin on his ankle that had him yelping.

“Bloody hell, Swan! Your toes are freezing!”

“I did warn you!”

“Do you not have stockings?”

“Yes, but that would require getting redressed in the dark.”

Fair point. Emma was more likely to break a toe searching for the garments, and with his own socks strewn somewhere on the floor by his bag, there wasn’t much he could do.

“Here.”

He wrapped his toes around her frigid ones, letting her steal some of his heat. She scooted closer at the feeling, her arms curled up at her chest as they lay on their sides, almost nose to nose. If he hadn’t heard the sheets move, he would have been surprised when her hand reached across to rest at the spot where his collarbone met pillow. As it was he had to force himself not to jump; her slender digits felt like icicles against his warmth.

Her entire body relaxed into the sheets after a moment. If the growing tension over the events of the last two days had seemed palpable before, it’s release now was equally so. He could feel the tension leaving her form in degrees, the stiffness that she always seemed to carry in her limbs abating. She hadn’t even bothered to pull the sheets over herself, the heat generated by the two bodies enough now. Perhaps she was still considering her escape back to her own bed.

Outside, the wind was howling fiercely. The storm had picked up again, and with every heavy gust that whipped around the corner of the building came an eerie moan that made it seem as though it would be the structure’s last. It was a sound he had become well acquainted with over the years, but he couldn’t imagine it had ever been the same for Emma.

Even with the small tidbits he had gathered already, he had gleaned that she had lived a life he could only have dreamed about as a child, having grown up in near poverty himself. His brother had done his best to ensure that they always had a roof over their head, but sometimes that had been all it was, a roof. It had never been as bad as it could have been, and Killian had always been grateful for it, but there were still days as a young lad that he had gone into the city with his brother and oogled at the splendor of Buckingham Palace. That was a real roof, and he was certain that no occupant had ever had to worry about leaks during heavy rainfall or unwelcome creatures making their way in through the cracks.  It seemed silly now, but there was still something to be said for a good home, with thick walls and a sturdy roof.

It was almost incredible that the mild mannered woman lying next to him would have seen so much and had been forced to give it all up. But Emma was strong. He had learned at least that much, and if anyone was going to survive the turmoil of the inevitable revolution only to run straight to a continent being pulled apart by war, it was her. She would do it, and do it well. Emma was incredible like that.

Her hand moved to his chest, brushing against the thin silver chain that hung there.

“What is that?” She murmured, her fingers trailing the strand down the hollow of his neck. His fingers met hers at the point where the simple silver ring rested, nestled in soft coils of dark chest hair.

“It was my mother’s wedding ring,” he whispered.

“You wear it all the time?”

“Yes. Ever since she passed away.”

Her nimble fingers continued to explore the thin band, feeling every ridge set in it. It was by no means the most glamourous of rings - his parents hadn’t been wealthy and the bit of money that his father did earn was always immediately wasted on booze. But it had still belonged to her, and so it was perfect.

“It is beautiful.”

His heart swelled with pride and affection. He wondered if she could feel it racing in his chest every time her fingers brushed against him. Surely she must.         

Killian raised his hand in the dark, moving it to hover just above where he imagined her left shoulder would be. Perhaps it was the fact that it had been so long since he had lain with - well, next to - a woman, or perhaps it was the bit of rum that he had sipped outside the bedroom door, but a moment later, the tips of his fingers were brushing the strands of hair from her face.

It was the barest of touches, but Emma’s breathing seemed to catch slightly. His offer to let her share his bed had been genuine and innocent, but he hadn’t foreseen what it would be like to have her in such close proximity, to have the scent of her soap filling his lungs, to have her hands against his chest. All of the emotion that he had felt on the platform that morning seemed to rush back with a vengeance. He wanted to lean forward the extra few inches, close the already diminishing gap between them. If the way her cheeks began to heat against his touch was any indication, Emma was having similar thoughts.

He leaned in, and for a brief moment, he felt the slight brush of soft lips against his. It was immediately intoxicating - a shot of morphine to the veins - and as he tilted his head forward again and felt his nose bump hers, he only cursed himself that he couldn’t see to properly kiss the living daylights out of her. He let his hand gently brush down her side to where the blankets were bunched at her hips. He wasn’t sure what he was doing - his mind felt like cotton, his heart beating too quickly. A rush of heat went straight to his loins and he cursed himself for being so responsive.

All of a sudden he felt her tense beneath his fingers and his hand came up in an instant. It was unnerving not to be able to see her expression in the dark, and it didn’t help that Emma wasn’t exactly forthcoming with her feelings on a good day.

“What is the matter, Swan?” He whispered, his eyes wildly searching the dark for hers. He barely cared that his voice sounded half wrecked already. God, it really had been too long.

“Nothing.”

A lie. His heart, still beating frantically, began to sink.

“What are you afraid of?”

“I beg your pardon?”

He knew the bluntness of his question would put her off, would possibly make her retreat further behind her walls, but he needed to know. Despite his earlier thoughts, something still nagged at him about her behaviour. Perhaps she hadn’t been lying before, but it hadn’t been the full truth either. It was time to address the elephant in the room.

“The train earlier, and when we arrived outside the hotel. Just now. You keep pulling away from me, and for the life of me, I cannot understand why. What have I done?”

“Nothing. It is as I said, I simply have a lot on my mind.”

“Emma,” he spoke softly, almost pleading. “I know. And I do not expect you to tell me all of your secrets. But please, I just want to help.”  

“The landlord believes me to be a prostitute.”

Her equally quiet tone was almost flippant, as though she were trying to brush off her own concerns, but Killian saw through it immediately. The words brought him back to what she had said before, about protecting his dignity, and her hesitation about sharing quarters with him again. It hadn’t been her status as a person of interest that had had her digging her heels into the sidewalk. It was a very different sort of status that had caused her unease.

Suddenly, the entire exchange with the receptionist made sense. The woman - the landlord, apparently - had noticed the lack of a ring on her finger and had said something.

How could he have missed that?

Sure, most of their rules of strict propriety had been thrown out the window when they had both practically become fugitives of the law, but that did not mean that the rules of society ceased to exist. And said rules were particularly stringent on the terms with which a man and a woman could associate with one another. Just because he had willingly abandoned convention did not mean that Emma had.  

“Does that bother you?” He asked, realisation dawning on him. “I apologize if it made you uncomfortable.”

“You do not need to apologize. You were right, before. It was quick thinking.”

“If it is all the same, I would still like to apologize. I can see that the insinuation bothers you, even if it was only a ruse.”

“Thank you. It is only that....” She trailed off, and Killian wished more than ever that he could see the emotions in her eyes as she spoke, that he could better decipher what her words meant. “I do not want you to see me like that. As that.”

“I think I understand. And I do not see you as that. I never have. Whatever this is, whatever we are together, it is as much up to you as much as it is me. I will never ask for more than you are willing to give. You have my word, Emma.”

“Thank you, Killian,” she whispered, her tone serious.

He could tell that Emma wasn’t convinced and he could practically hear her mind swirling with thoughts that he wasn’t privy to. If she would only tell him, perhaps he could help.

His hand was still hovering over her hips, and he fumbled in the dark for a moment until he managed to find the end of the heavy duvet and tug it up over her body. Emma immediately tucked her chin under the warm cover, his hand grazing her soft jaw at the movement as he pulled his arm back to his side.

“What if the landlord walks in and catches us like this?” She sounded half asleep, her words thick and heavy in her mouth.

“I expect I would have to scold her for disturbing my slumber with my wife.”

Killian’s mind began to fill with worry as the seconds wore on and Emma gave no response to his rather forward suggestion of feigned matrimony. It was only when he heard a faint sigh that he realised that she had fallen asleep. She had heard him, no doubt, but whether or not she would recall the conversation tomorrow, he had no idea. He hoped so. He had no intention of taking it back.

Indeed, the words had spilled out without prompting, much as they had on the train to the officer. It was as though an instinct kicked in every time Emma came under threat, and he was immediately compelled to do something to help. It was a raw and powerful urge unlike anything he had ever experienced before. And then other times, a very different instinct overcame him, and he found himself fighting the urge to kiss her.

But as seemed to be the case every night since meeting Emma, with the darkness came a new wave of doubt, unsurety, and guilt. It was almost ridiculous that a lovely day spent with Emma should end that way. It reminded him of the more turbulent days of his youth, when the excitement of the liquor he used to sneak from the shipyard would wear off and the shame would begin to set in. Except his shame was not because of Emma - who could ever find reason to be ashamed of her? No, the shame he felt was purely for himself.      

For as much as the small voice in his head urged him toward Emma, urged him to take a chance, a stronger voice chastised him. Had he not pledged himself to Milah? No, they hadn’t exchanged vows, but that was a simple formality. They had agreed to love and cherish each other, and only each other.

Until ‘death’ do us part, a small voice corrected.

No, no no. It was more than that. It had to be. His time with Milah had been passionate and perfect and everlasting. He had nothing left to give but his loyalty. He couldn’t take that away. Not now.

It is not disloyal to be happy.

But that seemed almost a ridiculous thought; Killian Jones, living a life free of pain and guilt. He had been on his own for so long now, that the idea that he could share a bit of himself with another person was almost foreign to him. It would never be the same as it was before, though. He needed to remember that. He could never love someone else the way he had his Milah, of that he was sure. But being fond of someone else was not a damning thing, was it? He mightn’t ever be happy again, but perhaps he could be content in the company of another.

Especially if that someone was Emma.

Killian closed his eyes. The exhaustion that had been growing ever since their encounter had begun to tug at the back of his mind as he realised how little sleep he had gotten since Petrograd. He had diligently watched over her as she slept the night before, just as he had promised, but now he could feel the heaviness of his eyelids. There was no reason to fight it anymore; he was exactly where he needed to be. Whatever feelings he had for Emma could wait- and for good or for poor, they were there. That said, if there was one thing that he was certain of, it was this; if given the chance to kiss Emma again, he would take it.

And with that, he let himself be pulled under the waves. The room faded from existence around him until all that remained was him and the sleeping blond, their limbs intertwined under the thick blanket.

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Cover You in Oil, pt17

Word Count: 8061 (ACK) Tags: @outside-the-government​, @yourtropegirl​ @to-pick-ourselves-up-7​, @ghostssss​, @rampant-salamander​, @saysay125​, @sistasarah-sallysaidso​ @shewhorunswithfandoms​, @flirtswithdanger​ @supermoonpanda​ @rayleyanns​

The work on the car was slow going, and Sally found herself falling into a routine, each day blending into the next. Victor was always in the garden fencing in the morning when she ran, and rarely cancelled in the evening after the first couple of times. Because she was aware her emails were being monitored, Sally was sure to send requests for updates on wedding planning to Pepper and Natasha every night before turning in. Natasha had texted her early on accusing her of being a control freak, but once Sally had explained the situation, started sending long-winded descriptions of floral arrangements, loaded with huge photo files.

She was scrolling through one of those emails one evening in September when she looked up and saw snow falling. She snapped a quick photo and sent it to Tony.

“Seems a little early.” His response was immediate.

“I’ll be learning to snowboard soon!” Sally added a few annoying emojis to convey her excitement.

“You haven’t mentioned the car recently, in the flood of wedding shit. How’s the car?”

“I should be able to start rebuilding the engine in the next few days.”

“Nervous?”

“A little. The body is going to need remarkably little work. Which makes up for the engine giving me nightmares, I guess.”

“Just put it back together the way you took it apart, everything should be fine.”

“Thanks coach.”

“Missing surfing yet?”

“Gonna be surfing on solid water soon.” Sally laughed as she typed it. “Don’t get me wrong, Tony. Victor creeps me out. But I’m spending more time with the car and Sasha, so I’m not terribly concerned.”

“Just say the word. I love you.”

“I love you. I miss you. Three more months.” Sally powered down her phone and tucked it away before climbing into bed and pulling an extra blanket over herself.

There was a distinct chill in the room when Sally wakened, and the light coming into the window seemed brighter somehow. She stretched and got out of bed. Everything outside was covered in a blanket of snow. She noticed a snow-clearing machine circling the gardens, and prepared to go out for her run. Victor met her in the hallway.

“You must have seen the plow in the gardens?” He asked.

“I did. I am crossing my fingers that it means I can still run this morning,” Sally laughed, gesturing at the scarf and mittens she was carrying.

“You should be safe,” Victor nodded and carried on down the hallway. Sally watched his retreating back, almost puzzled until she realized that he wouldn’t be able to fence in a snowy garden, which would explain why he wasn’t in his whites. She turned back down the hall toward the garden and caught her breath when the cold air hit her face. Her eyes watered, and simultaneously froze.

“Your California blood is too thin for this weather?” Sasha gestured at the mittens and scarf. Sally glared at him, pursing her lips under her scarf.

“This is fucking ridiculous. What are you doing out here?” She asked. Sasha laughed and shook his head.

“Running with you. I’m your security detail, remember? It’s icy. Ice is dangerous. Let’s go, little girl, see if your lungs have adapted to the altitude,” he teased, and swatted her backside as she stepped away from the castle. She punched him in the arm playfully and followed him as he began to run.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you always have gloves on, Sasha,” Sally commented as she caught up and settled in beside him. He smirked and glanced at her, shaking his head lightly.

“It’s called a uniform.” His response was dry. “And just because I live in these mountains doesn’t make me impervious to the cold.”

“Frostbite isn’t a manly, Latverian pursuit?” Sally quipped.

“Some of us don’t need to prove we have balls, doll,” Sasha winked and picked up the pace. Sally quickened her face, hoping she wouldn’t have a repeat of her run with Sam. She could have just slowed down and waited for Sasha to slow to her pace, he was her guard, after all, but something about what he’d said was sitting strangely in her mind.

“Who taught you English?” She gasped as she caught up to him again.

“What do you mean?” Sasha slowed just a little, noting her level of exertion. Sally noted the usual amused tone in his voice was absent.

“You called me doll. I think the only person who has ever called me that ever is my uncle Tim, and he was old before old was cool,” Sally laughed. “I might have to let Victor know that his English instructor is a geezer.”

“Maybe I’ve been watching too many old movies,” Sasha shrugged and edged them a little faster again.

“Let me know if you suddenly feel like you need to burst into song. I understand that happened a lot in the old-timey times too,” Sally teased. Sasha rolled his eyes and looked ahead again. Sally snuck a look at him, but was unsure if the flush on his cheeks was from the cold air or embarrassment. They finished their run in silence, and Sally was almost bothered by how eerily quiet it was, just the sound of their breathing in the air. Like the mountains had gone to sleep. When they stopped at the castle, Sasha stopped his watch and looked at their time.

“You’ve gotten faster,” he commented.

“You understand how creepy it is that you’ve noticed my improvement, given this is the first time you’ve run with me?” Sally laughed.

“I’ve been timing you since your first run down the to gatehouse. Guard, remember?”

“I didn’t realize personal trainer was part of the job description,” Sally winked and turned toward the castle doors. “I’ll see you in about an hour?

Sasha nodded. “Not that I’d be allowed to miss it, but I wouldn’t miss it.” The teasing tone was back in his voice and Sally smiled to herself as she walked back into the castle.

“Pass me that wrench, would you?” Sally called from under the car. She had it hoisted on a custom floor jack that Victor had designed with the car in mind. Not wanting to second guess his engineering skills in front of him, she’d scanned the entire system over to Tony to double check before the first time she hoisted the car. Sasha had laughed at her nervousness with the cocky assuredness of someone who’d never been pinned under a car before, but Sally had been pinned for a mercifully short time under the chassis of a tiny car, and that experience had terrified her. The thought of being pinned under Victor’s monster of a car filled her with a dread she couldn’t shake.

“You’re still shaking,” Sasha noted as he passed the wrench to her.

“This is a huge car,” Sally shot back.

“You know it’s not going to fall on you,” Sasha raised an eyebrow and gazed down at her through the empty space in the engine cavity. “Besides, I’m here.”

“As much as I’ve admired the way your shirts stretch across your shoulders, dude, you aren’t strong enough to lift this car off me if the lift breaks,” Sally snapped. “I mean, unless Latveria has its own super soldier program?”

Sasha rolled his eyes again and disappeared from her line of sight, “You’re cranky.”

“You’re cocky,” Sally shot back. Sasha responded with silence, and Sally continued working, letting the little flare of temper burn off. She pushed herself out from under the car when she heard Sasha’s alarm, and scrubbed her hands before they headed up to the castle together. About halfway back, she stumbled in the snow and Sasha’s arm snaked out and caught her.

“See? I told you I’d take care of you,” Sasha winked as he steadied her. Sally grumbled and pulled away, losing her balance again and falling into the snow with a muffled shriek. Sasha started laughing, a rich baritone that melted her anger and left her embarrassed. She tried to glare at him from the snowbank she was stuck in, but seeing his handsome smile chased away the residual anger, and when he held his right hand out to assist her, she clasped it with her own and allowed him to pull her from the snow.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled as he patted the snow off her. He laughed again and dropped a friendly arm around her shoulders.

“You need to get laid, kid,” he teased. “It might be the only way for you to relax.”

“Well, there’s not much chance of that happening here, is there?” Sally shoved him, laughing.

“Maybe just use the castle Wi-Fi to stream a hot cyber session with your Stark boy,” Sasha hip-checked her, nearly causing her to lose her balance again. Sally steadied herself and tried to settle her laughter.

“I’m sure Victor would love that,” she snorted. She’d commented a few times that she thought Victor was monitoring her electronic communications, and Sasha had never suggested there was no need to be concerned. More surprisingly, he hadn’t immediately reported to Victor that she suspected the surveillance, which had made her freer with her comments.

“Maybe he’d stop monitoring your interactions?” Sasha shrugged. Sally met his gaze with a cocked eyebrow.

“Did you miss the memo where you live in a country with closed borders and an emperor? I wouldn’t be surprised if he monitors all our conversations too, Sasha.”

“He doesn’t.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Robotic specialty. I’ve ensured nowhere that I work has monitoring equipment. There’s sporadic monitoring in the garage because it would be too suspicious to disable it completely. I tend to direct our conversations when we’re in there to keep them safe,” Sasha admitted. “I probably have just as much as stake as you do.”

“I don’t understand how.”

“Everyone in Latveria has something to hide,” Sasha shrugged. “I don’t know if Victor told you, tomorrow is a holiday. You won’t be able to work. I was planning on going down to the village bakery. She’s supposed to be closed, but she keeps day old pastry for me. I thought maybe you’d like to come. See the town, get away from the castle.”

Sally brightened. “That would be awesome.”

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow. Talk to the emperor about what his plans for you tomorrow are, and we can work out the details when we run in the morning,” Sasha smiled. Sally was taken again by his reckless smile.

“I think maybe my little soldier likes to buck against authority,” Sally teased.

“Go get cleaned up before you’re late for dinner.”

“The guard you’ve assigned me told me that tomorrow is a holiday, Victor.” Sally figured it was better to open without preamble.

“It is. Latverian Freedom Day,” Victor nodded. Sally blinked.

“Latverian Freedom Day? How is that celebrated?” She asked.

“There is a military parade in the morning on the grounds. There are no businesses open, so most of the citizens spend the day in leisure pursuits. Unfortunately the ski hill won’t be open yet. You will not be working tomorrow either, Sally,” Victor explained.

“Did you have any plans for us then?” Sally’s question was tentative. Victor smiled but shook his head.

“I’m afraid an Emperor doesn’t get days off, Sally. You are free to do as you please. Just make sure whatever you choose, you take Vurdalakovich with you,” Victor replied. Sally nodded.

“He doesn’t have duties beyond minding me?” Sally asked. Victor scowled.

“Please don’t put it that way. He has been assigned to you for your own security, not because you need watching,” he snapped.

“I’m sorry, Victor. This is still a very new feeling for me. I’m used being able to come and go as I please, work when I want to, eat when I need to. I think I’m doing very well at respecting your expectations as my employer.” Sally’s comments were pointed and there was a fleeting look of regret on Victor’s face before he masked it with the haughty indifference she’d come to expect when she spoke of her life in America.

“Well, you are free to do as you please tomorrow, Sally. Under the one caveat that you have a guard to ensure your safety,” Victor sighed. Sally bit back an argument, knowing it would be disastrous to continue to pursue the difference between his perception of freedom and hers. She concentrated on the meal, and excused herself early. There were some times that Victor was so blind to his totalitarianism that she wanted to scream.

“Sasha says I need to get laid.”

“He’d better not be volunteering or he and I are going to have words. Three of them will be unibeam focus technology.” Tony’s response was prompt.

“I didn’t think I would miss your fits of jealousy, but I kinda do.”

“Because my jealousy is benign because I don’t actually have anything to worry about.”

“Because you’re very rich, and I’m very smart. I’m not going to screw up having a sugar daddy.” Sally let a wry smirk cross her face, even though she knew Tony couldn’t see it. She put the phone aside and checked her emails, responding to an inquiry from Pepper about the cookie bar. A video chat request popped up on her screen from Tony, and she tried to stop herself from giggling as she answered.

“I happen to know your net worth, Ms. Manners,” Tony started, cocking one eyebrow when he saw the grin she was struggling to smother.

“Either you’re reassured I don’t need a sugar daddy, or you realize now I do,” she laughed. Tony laughed.

“I have a surprise for you when you get home.” He shook his head.

“It’s September, Tony. I’m not going to be home for a while,” Sally protested.

“I know,” he nodded. “At this rate, you’ll never be able to match my wedding gift to you.” His eyes twinkled with good-natured teasing.

“Uh, I’m pretty sure I’m the best wedding gift you’ll ever receive,” Sally laughed. Tony pursed his lips in thought.

“Yeah, I don’t know –“

“You know I know how to hang up on you,” Sally cut him off. He smiled again.

“But you won’t.” He was so sure of himself that Sally had to laugh. The conversation slid into other areas, and Sally explained what was going on with the car.

“So after tomorrow is the weekend, and I can’t work weekends either, so on Monday, I’ll be starting to put the engine back together. The weather forecast seems to be for hellish amounts of snow, and Sasha said he thought the ski hill would open by next weekend,” Sally explained. “I’m pretty excited to try snowboarding. But snow is really cold.”

“Spoken like a true beach baby,” Tony laughed.

“We got snow in Seattle. But not often. And it rarely stayed,” Sally protested.

“Just don’t forget your base layer. And ask Sasha for advice. Provided he doesn’t offer to help you dress, he’s probably the best person for the job,” Tony suggested. Sally yawned and stretched while nodding.

“I’m beat. I’ll let you know how my village excursion went tomorrow night?” Sally asked.

“Absolutely. Love you, princess.”

“I love you too, Tony.”

Sally stepped out into the chilly morning air and blinked against the bright sunlight on the snow. It took a minute for her eyes to adjust to the blanket of white, and soon shapes started emerging from the over-saturated scene in front of her. She saw a shape approaching her, and by the time it reached her, her eyes had adjusted enough to recognize Sasha.

“So it snowed another foot last night,” he began. “I brought you some crampons for your shoes, as the snow on the trail has been plowed but there’s a little packed down that will be slippery.” He handed her a rubber gasket that was spiky in places, and she stared back at him blankly.

“Crampon?”

“Pull it onto the bottom of your shoe. It gives you traction on snow and ice,” he explained. When Sally continued to stare at him blankly, he lifted his foot, pulled the crampon off his shoe and slid it back on in an exaggerated gesture. Sally raised an eyebrow and copied him. “They feel weird when you first start running on them, but once you get used to them, you’ll feel confident on the snow.”

“Sure. I’m all about blind trust,” Sally shot, voice dripping sarcasm. Sasha squinted at her in the bright sun and shook his head.

“Then blindly trust today, and tomorrow wear your sunglasses,” he replied. “But we’ve got our day to plan, so let’s get going.” He loped off onto the snowy garden path, running just a touch slower than he usually did.

“So are you part of the military parade this morning?” Sally asked.

“Yes. We can head into the village once it is over and I’ve changed out of my dress uniform,” Sasha’s jaw ticked a little and Sally wondered if the constraints of working with her were impeding his ability to fulfill his other duties. “I’ll meet you back here about twenty minutes after the parade is dismissed.”

“Okay. I’ll be ready,” she nodded. Suddenly, despite the spikes on her shoes, she slipped on the ice. She reached out to grab Sasha to stabilize herself and pulled him off balance too. When he saw that she was going to land first, and she was going to land on top of him, he grabbed her with his left arm and pushed her toward the snowbank before catching himself and dropping gently into a push-up on the snowy path. Sally gawked at him from the heap of snow she was struggling out of. “Holy shit, you’re strong.”

“Are you okay? I just kind of threw you.” He offered a hand and pulled her to her feet. Without pausing, he started to dust the snow off of her.

“Yeah, snow made for a soft landing.” Sally stamped her feet, knocking snow off her shoes and legs. Sasha laughed.

“Keep that in mind when we go skiing,” he winked. He looked down at his watch and let out a low curse in a language Sally didn’t understand. “I’ve got to get back to the barracks and prepare for the parade. Let me walk you back to the door so you don’t fall.” He placed a hand under Sally’s elbow and directed her across the path where the snow pack had become slick with ice.

There was a soft knock at Sally’s door as she toweled off her hair. She adjusted her black dress, and hung the towel up in the bathroom, knowing that it was Victor at the door. It was only ever Victor at the door. She had never seen a servant in the hall leading to the bedrooms, but she knew there must be someone who cleaned the bathrooms made sure her sheets were fresh and crisp every night. As the passed the dresser, she slid her engagement ring on and grabbed her earrings. When she opened the door, she was still fussing with the catch on one of her hoops.

“You look,” Victor trailed off, cleared his voice and focused his attention on her. “You look exceptional.” Sally flushed at the compliment.

“Thank you?” She bit her lip in concentration, finally managing to hook the catch on the earring. “Am I running behind? I just wanted to make sure my hair was dry before we went out in the cold.”

“You’ve plenty of time, Sally,” Victor reassured her. “I just wanted to ensure you have warm enough clothing for the parade. The temperature has dropped since this morning, and we’ll be observing the parade for at least an hour.”

“Would it be alright if I wore pants then?” Sally asked, hands nervously going to the skirt of her dress. She’d planned to pull on wool leggings before they went outside, but wanted her snow pants too if it was really so cold.

“Of course! Save that beautiful dress for sometime when it can be admired, instead of hiding it under your jacket,” Victor nodded. “You do have winter outerwear though? I will make sure there’s an additional coat for you, just in case.”

“Thank you. I did bring a heavy coat, but I’m not sure how warm it will be in comparison to how cold I’m finding it,” Sally laughed. Victor nodded, his sharp features softening slightly.

“The Latverian climate suits you so well, Sally, that I forget you are a woman made for long, hot summers,” he smiled. “I will leave you to finish getting ready. We can meet in the dining room in a half hour.”

Sally nodded and closed the door after Victor stepped back toward his own room. She quickly stripped down and pulled on her wool base layer before blow-drying her hair. Once she was ready, she picked up the matching mittens, scarf and hat and pulled on her dark winter coat, glad she’d opted for the deep olive green instead of the bright pink. Bright colours were few and far between in Latveria as far as she had seen, and seemed like they would be out of place at a military affair. She couldn’t help the bright flashes of colour in her accessories though.

She was picking at her cuticles in the dining room when Victor appeared. She carefully assessed him and was impressed that he wasn’t in a military uniform. He wore a well-tailored black suit, and was carrying a great coat over one arm, with his scarf and gloves in his hand. He looked every bit the emperor that he was, without any of the trappings Sally thought would be stereotypical to the position. No military uniform, no broad sashes, or chains of state. Just a tall, handsome, powerful man in a well made suit. He offered his free arm wordlessly, and Sally took it, allowing him to lead her through a maze of hallways and up a flight of stairs until they reached a ballroom. Their footsteps echoed across the sprung hardwood as they crossed the room toward floor to ceiling balcony doors. A servant waited, and opened the door for them, waiting for them to pass outside before closing the doors again. There were three more servants waiting outside, and one assisted Victor into his outerwear as the other two rolled a large sheet of metal behind them. Sally realized, as her back started to warm up, that the metal thing was some kind of space heater.

“Each company will march past in parade formation, and salute as they pass us. It is not appropriate for you to return the salute. But please also do not wave or otherwise attempt any communicative contact with the divisions,” Victor explained.

“Right,” Sally nodded.

“But right now, you may wave across the square. Latveria is with us, and she is curious about you.” Victor demonstrated by waving broadly to the gathered throngs of people on the opposite side of the parade square. Sally heard a roar of acknowledgement as the crowd cheered, and lifted her hand to wave as well. Victor took a step closer to her and leaned down to speak. “I’m glad to hear you will be heading into the village this afternoon, so that you might meet more of my countrymen.” He waved to the crowd again as he spoke and the crowd cheered and waved back again. Sally shivered, unsure of whether it was from the cold or the strange adulation of the crowd. Victor noticed and snapped his fingers, having a hushed conversation with the servant that appeared at his side. He sighed heavily and removed his own great coat and draped it across Sally’s shoulders.

“Victor, you –“

“There appears to have been a misunderstanding, and the spare coat I requested is back in my quarters still. I am accustomed to the weather,” he interrupted.

“Thank you.” Sally felt small against his imperious nature and almost laughed out loud when she realized that he was likely imperious because he was an emperor. She shook her head, and pulled Victor’s coat tighter around her. It had a rich aroma of musk and leather and something that reminded her of Tony with a sudden pang of homesickness that both comforted and hurt her. Lost in her thoughts, she barely noticed when the band started playing until they were rounding the corner of the square to march across in front of them. The crisp tattoo of the drums echoed across the mountain walls, and Sally found her attention pulled to the soldiers, trying to pick Sasha out from her vantage point.

It didn’t take long. He was at least a few inches taller than every other soldier in his company, and he was broader through the shoulders too. He marched with the casual arrogance of a man who excels at everything, but couldn’t be bothered pursuing excellence for any reason other than the challenge. Sally caught a quick glimpse of his lopsided smirk as his salute snapped up to his forehead and she wasn’t sure if she imagined him winking. She would have to ask later.

The bite of the frosty morning on her cheeks kept her alert throughout the parade, even when the warmth of Victor’s coat coupled with the heating appliance behind them threatened to make her drowsy, and she found her foot tapping with the upbeat military march the band was playing. It wasn’t like any parade she’d ever been to at home, but she supposed that was the point. She’d never been to a military parade before. Latveria was all about challenging her perceptions of the world, it seemed.

While the troops were still at attention, Victor stepped forward and spoke to them in a language Sally didn’t understand. A servant stepped up just behind her and began translating as Victor gave a short, motivating speech about the advancement in robotics in Latveria growing the economy and how the prowess of the military kept their secrets safe. Sally bit her lip and tried not to smile when Victor compared the might of the Latverian military to that of America.

“We are grateful to America for yielding one of its great treasures to us, in sending Sally Manners, the talented and legendary restorationist, to work on the jewel of the Emperor’s automobile collection, and would ask that subjects offer their customary hospitality and kindness to our guest,” the servant translated for her. Sally felt herself blushing again and flinched at the cheers that followed. “Thank you for a glorious morning. Latveria! Latveria! Latveria!” The servant’s flat tone was contrasted by Victor’s booming voice yelling the word, and pumping his fist to the sky three times. He spoke again, and each company leader stepped forward and started drilling the soldiers to leave the parade square. He turned and offered his elbow again and escorted Sally back across the ballroom and toward the living quarters in silence, stopping at her bedroom before he spoke. He moved to help her remove his heavy great coat.

“I hope you didn’t find that too foreign to you,” he finally offered as Sally shrugged his coat off into his hands.

“It was fascinating. I’ve never seen a military parade before,” she admitted.

“I am needed today all day in the labs. Please do not feel constrained by any schedule. This is a day of complete freedom, not only for Latveria, but for you, from my strict schedule,” Victor laughed. Sally smiled. “I hope you’ve made enjoyable plans.”

“Vurdalakovich is taking me into the village to show me the sights,” Sally admitted. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Sounds delightful. I wish you good day then, Sally,” he nodded, and then leaned in, brushing his lips across her temple. She stiffened and Victor flinched. “My apologies, I don’t know what came over me.”

“Have a good day, Victor,” Sally nodded, slipping into her bedroom.

Sasha hadn’t mentioned they were snowshoeing into the village, but once they started down the mountainside, Sally saw the appeal. It was a great workout, but it also allowed her to stop and take photos of the beautiful scenery. And Sasha had promised they wouldn’t be walking back up the mountain to the castle, so she figured it was a fair trade off.

“Do you like the emperor, Sasha?” Sally blurted, halfway down the mountain. She was replaying the weird forehead kiss after the parade in her head and was uncertain if she was overreacting. Sasha stopped walking and turned to face her.

“No.”

“Do you trust him?”

“No.”

“And yet you serve him?”

“Yes. It’s my duty to serve.” Sasha turned and started back down the mountain. Sally followed, thoughts still whirling. And then one popped out of the mire.

“Sasha?”

“If you keep stopping to ask questions, there won’t be day old pastries left at Mariya’s bakery,” Sasha commented over his shoulder. “And you’re going to want food when we get to the village.”

“You aren’t Latverian, are you?” Sally didn’t so much ask as deduce. Sasha stopped again and turned to face her, his expression blank.

“What makes you say that?” He asked, turning back toward the base of the mountain and trudging off. Sally scrambled to catch up.

“You were nearly a foot taller than everyone in your company. Broader through the shoulders. Your face is a completely different shape,” Sally listed.

“Staring at me, were you, doll?” Sasha teased. Sally took a couple of quick steps so she was beside him.

“And that,” she said. “Your weird English. Victor’s English doesn’t sound like yours. You’ve got slang that I’m sure he’s never heard before.” Sasha stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“Don’t fuss about me, Sally,” he requested. “I’m well aware of how different I am from everyone else. It’s not easy being who I am.”

“Who are you?” Sally asked.

“Victor’s brother,” Sasha admitted, too quickly. Sally’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. She examined his face and looks for similarities but found none. She met his eyes and cocked an eyebrow.

“Fine, you don’t need to tell me. You’re right, it’s not my business,” Sally started to walk back down the mountain. Sasha caught up after a minute and they continued in strained silence for a while longer before Sasha spoke.

“You’ll be a bit of a novelty in the village. The emperor’s special guest,” Sasha explained. Sally nodded. “People might behave oddly. Try to keep in mind that tourism is not a thing here.”

“I left my phone up at the castle so I wouldn’t be tempted to take photos,” Sally commented. Sasha smiled.

“I wouldn’t have been able to allow you, anyhow. Victor has only allowed the photos of the car because you need them for the project. You will be leaving us, and my job is not only to protect you, but also Latveria,” he shrugged. The approached the outskirts of the village and Sally was taken in by the juxtaposition of medieval village with high tech advancements. There was a pigpen behind the first house they passed, fenced with what looked to be a laser grid. Parked beside the pigpen was a slick, aerodynamic motorcycle. Her eyes widened as she took in the houses they passed, each with some strange contrast between ancient and modern.

“So which is the anachronism? Me or this village?” Sally asked quietly. Sasha laughed. “And where is everyone?”

“You’ve seen how strict Victor is about work hours. That kind of structure settles into your bones. People are inside, taking the midday meal,” Sasha explained as he knocked on the back door of the bakery. A tall redheaded woman answered the door, and Sally was struck her appearance. She was every bit as tall as Pepper, but heavyset. Despite her additional weight, she had a curvaceous body that she was clearly confident and comfortable in. Her eyes lit up on recognizing Sasha, and she threw the door wide to invite them in. Once they were inside, and the door was closed, she threw her arms around Sasha and kissed both his cheeks noisily.

“I’d almost given up on seeing you!” She chastised. Sasha’s cheeks pinkened and he shrugged.

“I’ve been on assignment,” he excused. Sally watched the exchange with interest as she peeled off her mittens and scarf.

“She’s a very pretty assignment.” The woman winked at Sally conspiratorially, taking her mitts and scarf and hanging them on a hook by the door. Sally bit back a smile, and continued removing her coat.

“Mariya, don’t be that way,” Sasha complained. “Sally is engaged. To her soulmate. Sally, this is Mariya.”

“And you are the emperor’s mechanic,” Mariya nodded. Sally felt like she’d said the word mechanic in air quotes. “Does he know you are engaged?”

“He does,” Sally laughed.

“He looks at you like a man in love,” she commented. Sally gaped at her.

“What?”

“A woman in love always sees romance around every corner.” Sasha rolled his eyes, and swatted Mariya’s backside, moving her out of the hallway into rest of the bakery. Sally took in the exchange with interest, following them to a worn kitchen table. Sasha gestured at a chair and Sally sat while Mariya poured three cups of coffee. She placed a tray of pastries on the table between them.

“How do you take your coffee, Sally?”

“Black, thanks.” Mariya nodded and put the cup in front of her before sitting across the table. Sasha was already chewing on a pastry. “Eat, Sally. That hike down the mountain is exhausting when the path is green.”

Sally took a pastry and bit into it, savouring the creamy sweetness. “You are a talented baker, Mariya.”

“It’s nearly nothing. The shop is next to fully automated, thanks to the emperor’s rapid industrialization program. I find the pastry too chewy now, but there’s no convincing the modernization committee that robotics aren’t appropriate everywhere,” Mariya shrugged, shooting a pointed look at Sasha.

“And in some places they are appropriate,” Sasha argued.

“Says the robotics engineer,” Mariya scoffed. Sally sat back and smiled. Sasha’s eyes narrowed.

“What?” He asked her.

“How long have you two been together?” She asked. Mariya laughed.

“Almost since he got here, I think,” Mariya admitted. “My mate died just a few months after we were married, and I’d been alone, just me and the bakery, ever since. One day Sasha walked in. Confused. Looking for some pastry I’d never made before. But so tall, and broad. It made me overlook his terrible accent.”

“Terrible accent?” Sally asked, curious. Sasha’s face clouded with annoyance.

“Latverian can be difficult to master, if you’re not a native speaker. Sasha grew up speaking Russian, I guess. He sounded just like the Soviets who tried to overrun us in the eighties,” Mariya explained. “Look, he doesn’t like me telling you his secrets. I helped him master his accent before any of his superiors caught on, and now look at him. Guarding the mechanic.”

“I think he sees it more as a punishment, Mariya,” Sally laughed. Mariya shook her head.

“No, he loves working with you. He’s good with languages, my Sasha is, but he said you say his English is outdated? And working on cars reminds him of happier times,” Mariya laughed. “But I’m saying too much. Look at the cloud over his head.” She nodded at Sasha, who was scowling at his lover, and gripping his coffee cup too tightly. Mariya laid her hand on his left hand and squeezed, and Sasha pulled it away, grumbling something in Latverian at her. She shot something back at him and kissed his forehead, rising from the table and opening the fridge.

“So what about you, Sasha? Do you have a soulmate?” Sally asked, moving back to a topic that she thought might be less offensive to him. His scowl softened and he shook his head.

“Like Mariya, my soulmate is long since left this world,” he admitted.

“Then how wonderful you found someone as bright and lovely as Mariya,” Sally commented. Sasha smiled, sadly.

“You have a unique way of looking at things, for a woman about to marry her soulmate,” Sasha commented. Sally shrugged.

“My soulmark has Tony’s name on it. So I’ve known ever since it was clear enough to read who my soulmate was. Some people go through life never meeting the person who has marked them, and they are lonely, and tragic. But both you and Mariya had someone, and now you also get a second chance while you are still young. How is that not wonderful?” Sally asked.

“When you put it that way, sweetheart, how can I not see it from your perspective?” Sasha asked. “But not all stories have a happy ending.”

“The good ones always do,” Sally laughed. Mariya laid a plate of meats and cheeses down beside the pastries and dropped a cutting board with a fresh loaf of bread beside it.

“You should eat, and then go explore the village. Take snapshots with your mind, so the emperor can’t erase them before you leave,” Mariya interrupted. “And stop talking about love lost and found, the both of you. Life is what it is, nothing more, nothing less.”

“Yes ma’am,” Sasha winked. Mariya rolled her eyes.

“I plan on enjoying this man for as long as he allows me, but I don’t think ours is the happily ever after you talk about, Sally. No one is lucky enough to get that twice,” Mariya dismissed.

“I like her,” Sally announced as they tromped through the snowy village streets.

“You do, do you?” Sasha laughed.

“I like the way you smile around her. She lifts whatever burden that is that you carry around,” Sally shrugged. “Like she knows all your secrets, and still likes you. So you seem more relaxed around her because she knows.”

“You’re more right than you realize,” Sasha admitted. Sally smiled again. She looked up and saw someone across the street bowing down and looked back at Sasha with a question in her eyes. He shrugged and they continued on. The village square, the oldest part of the town, was their destination. Sasha promised it was the most interesting part of the village. As they passed another villager, he dropped into a low bow. Sally’s brow furrowed and she looked at Sasha again.

“Don’t worry about it,” he murmured, urging her on. She followed him toward the square, ignoring each villager as they bowed or curtseyed toward her. When they stepped into the square, Sally was overwhelmed by a beautiful snow-covered fountain, the water arcing up and dropping back down in all directions. She looked at Sasha in confusion.

“It’s a natural hot-spring. It never freezes. It’s also the freshest water in the country. The fountain is for show, but that building on the far side of the square is the public baths. Did you want to go?” Sasha offered.

Sally shook her head. “I don’t have a swimsuit with me.”

Sasha smirked. “You don’t need one.”

“I’m not getting into a public bath naked with you,” she blurted out with an uncomfortable laugh. Sasha laughed and shook his head.

“The springs provide bathing attire to those who need it. You don’t need it though,” Sasha pulled a small package out of his jacket. “I brought a suit for you.”

“How did you get into my room?” Sally demanded.

“I didn’t. Just shut up and trust me, would you?” Sasha asked, taking her hand in his and leading her to the bathhouse. She followed him down a poorly lit corridor to a small change room, and handed her the package, turning his back.

“You expect me to change in front of you?” Sally laughed.

“I have turned my back!” Sasha’s exasperation was evident, and he turned back to face her. “Besides, you’ve seen my girl. You’re not exactly my type, are you?” Sally laughed again, in surprise.

“I somehow suspect your type is only limited by the word female, Sasha. But okay. I’ll get changed,” Sally allowed. Sasha sighed and turned his back again. Sally stripped down quickly and pulled the suit on. She was amused to find it was a similarly cut black one-piece to what she actually owned. Different enough that she knew it wasn’t hers, but similar enough to amuse her. When she turned back, she was surprised to see Sasha had only taken his outerwear off, leaving his scarf and hat neatly folded on top of his coat. His feet were bare, and his pants were rolled to the knees. “You’re not coming in?”

Sasha shook his head. “I burned myself a few days ago, and it’s at the gross gooey stage. I’ll be dangling my legs only.” Sally made a face.

“Thanks for the visual.”

The main room was misty with the low fog a hot spring produces, and the humidity caught in Sally’s throat. She followed Sasha over to the steps into the water, and dipped her foot in. It was hotter than she expected, and she stepped all the way in, allowing her feet to get accustomed to the heat before stepping further in. When she got in to her knees, she looked up and saw that every person in the spring had risen and was bowing in their direction. She looked at Sasha in a panic and backed up the stairs. “What the actual fuck, Sasha?”

“I warned you people might be weird,” he placed a hand on her arm. “As long as I can remember, there hasn’t been an outsider here.”

“Other than you,” Sally corrected quietly. Sasha rolled his eyes but nodded.

“Sure, other than me. But I fit in quickly as a soldier. And you are a guest of the emperor. A beautiful female guest of our unmarried emperor,” Sasha prompted. “It’s no surprise they think that you may someday become their empress.” Sally shuddered.

“I don’t know if I want to stay,” Sally whispered. Sasha leaned close.

“Leaving now would be rude, don’t you think?” He asked. “Get in, soak for a bit. People will sit once you are sitting, and if they truly think you may rule someday, no one will bother you. I’ll sit on the ledge right beside you.” Sally sighed and stepped back into the water, finding a spot to sit near the stairs. True to his word, Sasha sat on the ledge between her and everyone else, and just as he predicted, once she had seated herself, everyone else sat back down. Sally closed her eyes and laid her head against Sasha’s thigh. Probably too familiarly, she thought, but if an entire nation thought she was about to marry their emperor, she was going to rock the boat a little. Sasha dropped a hand to her shoulder, as though he could read her mind. A short while later, he withdrew his hand and jiggled his leg. Sally tilted back her head and looked at him, smiling when she was how sweaty he was becoming.

“Too hot for you, soldier?” She teased, stepping over to the staircase.

“You stay in much longer, you might die of shock once we’re outside again,” Sasha laughed. “Besides, it’s getting close to dark, so we should head back to the castle. There will be a snow-rover waiting for us at the edge of the village.”

The snowrover was an open-sided all-terrain vehicle with continuous track tread like a tank instead of wheels. It was sitting, unguarded, at the edge of the village, just as Sasha had said. He swung his leg over the seat and gestured for Sally to climb on behind him.

“Seriously?” She asked.

“Just climb on and hold on. It’s better than an hour hike back up the mountain, wouldn’t you say?” Sasha challenged. Sally climbed on behind him, wrapping her arms tightly around him. “I need to breathe, kid.” She relaxed her arms just a little. The rover was slow, but faster and less work than hiking, and they made it to the castle gates just as the sun was setting.

“Hungry?” Sasha asked. Sally nodded. “Come on. We’ll raid the barracks kitchen.” He led her in to the castle by a door she’d never noticed and then down a winding staircase. They dodged through a crowded mess hall and slipped in the swinging doors of the kitchen, where Sasha smiled at the cook and spoke quickly, gesturing at both of them. The cook nodded and pointed at a large pot on the stove. Sasha dished out two bowls and handed Sally a spoon before leading them to a table on the far side of the hall. Sally took a spoonful of the red stew and tasted it, not hesitating before taking another spoonful.

“What is this? It’s amazing,” Sally commented.

“Elk goulash,” Sasha replied.

“Most of the meals I’ve had with Victor have been very recognizable,” Sally said, blowing on her spoon.

“American, you mean?” Sasha laughed.

“Yeah, exactly,” Sally laughed with him. “Although we haven’t had hamburgers yet.” She continued eating her soup in silence.

“I should get you back upstairs. Who knows what Victor has planned for your weekend,” Sasha spoke as once she was finished eating.

“It snowed all day. Do you think the ski hill will open this weekend?” Sally asked.

“If Victor wills it,” Sasha smiled.

Sally was sitting in her pyjamas, sending an email to Pepper when she heard the knock at her door. She checked the clock on the wall. It was after nine pm. She pulled a sweatshirt over the tank top and answered Victor’s knocking.

“I know it’s late, I wanted to invite you for a nightcap,” Victor offered. Sally bit her lip.

“I’m hardly dressed for visiting,” she admitted, gesturing at her tattered sweatshirt and pj shorts. Victor’s eyes widened as he noticed her bare legs.

“Shall we meet in my study? Or would you prefer I wait while you dress?” He asked. Sally nodded, realizing she wasn’t being invited to anything. She was being told to come have a drink.

“I’ll just pull on a pair of yoga pants then?” Sally asked. She absolutely was not going to dress like she usually did for meals just to go have a drink with Victor. He didn’t mask his flinch well, but nodded regardless. Sally closed the door and quickly pulled on the nearest pair of leggings she could find, a loud pattern that completely clashed with the bright green of the sweatshirt she had on, and pulled the door back open. Victor flinched again, and held out his arm. She dropped her hand in the crook of his elbow and allowed him to lead her to his study, where he gestured to a leather wingback chair. As she sat, he stepped over to a credenza and poured them drinks.

“Vodka, neat?” Victor handed her the glass.

“How could you have known that?” Sally asked.

“Americans are rather free with their information,” Victor smiled. “I trust you had an enjoyable day with your guard?”

“Yeah, he showed me around the village, we went to the baths,” she offered. Victor nodded and dropped into the chair beside hers.

“And the people?” Victor asked.

“Your subjects are a lovely, and very polite people.” Sally thought about sharing about the bowing, but bit back the words. Victor made her uncomfortable enough without giving him ideas about their working relationship being anything but professional.

“I’m glad you felt that way,” Victor smiled. Sally took a sip of her drink and coughed. “Latverian vodka has a higher alcohol content than you are used to, I think.”

“Did you have plans for us this weekend?” Sally asked. Her previous weekends had been a mixture of movie marathons, hiking excursions and free time to herself, but she’d learned never to assume any of her time was truly her own.

“The ski hill is being groomed tonight. I know we’d discussed next weekend, but with all the snow of the last few days, it is ready. I thought you might like to be there for the season opening,” Victor offered. Sally couldn’t help but smile.

“Sounds awesome!” She exclaimed.

“It should be a most edifying day,” Victor agreed.