#come to my HOUSE and look at my CREATURES | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writhingg · 3 days ago

Text

(𝐮𝐧)𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | 𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐱 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐚!𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: 'twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a — what the hell is that noise?

for @littlexdeaths 12 days of promptmas game!

prompt: whatever you do...don't feed it after midnight.

a/n - this is 2.1k words of pure silliness with sprinkles of horny. takes place somewhere in the ‘90s in whatever large city you want to imagine. shout out to my love @londonfog-chan for inspiring this fic! no major tags other than fluff, yearning, non-explicit smut, reader speaking a little bit of Spanish, and robin & reader being obsessed with each other. also i had to use that picture of the grinning kitten, but the cat in his fic is written as older and chonkier. as usual, my work is 18+/mdni. please reblog and comment if you enjoyed, thank you. 🫶🏽

divider by @strangergraphics

A faint beeping sound rouses you from your slumber.

Eyes crusted with sleep, your blurry gaze drifts to the digital clock on your nightstand. 2:38 am. Confusion settles over you for a moment when you look at the window and see grey, muted light instead of the usual nighttime darkness. When you squint harder, though, you make out the slow descent of fluffy snowflakes.

It’s definitely too early for your alarm to go off, but whatever you just heard, it’s not coming from the clock.

You sigh, frustrated that you’ve been dealt the curse of being a light sleeper. Even the smallest of noises will have you up and unable to drift back into the recesses of your dreams; unlike Robin, who could probably sleep through the apocalypse. And speaking of your beloved girlfriend, your hand runs over the left side of the bed in search of her warmth, craving the feeling of her lanky body curled into yours. A small frown pulls your brows together when all your palm meets is the smoothness of the sheets.

She’s wandered off, then, which typically means one thing: she’s had a nightmare.

Seldom does she talk about her past, but between her and the eccentric group of friends she has, you’ve gathered enough over the years to understand that whatever happened in Hawkins still rattles her sometimes. It’s with this information that you roll out of bed, intent on providing her some comfort in the form of a hug and a smattering of kisses. With your pajamas askew, you toe on your slippers and push open the bedroom door.

Living in an old two-flat means that your bedroom is connected to the dining room, so when you step out, you fully intend to find her seated at the slightly-wobbly table the two of you thrifted a few weeks ago (“The quality! The craftsmanship! The charm! Baby”—she pulled you to a stop and gripped your shoulders, blue eyes puppy-dog wide—“They don’t make ‘em like this anymore. We have to buy it right now.”), glasses sliding to the tip of her nose while she hunches over one of her latest library finds. Reading helps her chase away the monsters, she once told you. The ones hiding in the shadows of her memories, that taunt her in her dreams. So, it’s a bit of shock when you find the dining room dark and empty.

There is a light coming from the kitchen, though. And when you listen carefully, you catch the end of a whispered sentence.

“—have to be quiet.”

Equal parts curious and suspicious, you inch closer, trying your best to avoid the creaky parts of the wooden floor. When you round the corner, a snort of laughter and a drawn-out mewl punctuating the silence, you see a sight that has you muttering, “Esta tonta” under your breath, your lips curving into an incredulous grin.

“What’s going on here?”

Robin startles, head whipping up so fast that her messy hair flies around her face.

“Baby, I – uh, it’s not what it looks like.”

“Oh, really?” you reply, hands perching on your hips. “Care to explain, then?”

“It’s actually a really funny story. Like, totally hilarious—"

“Rob.”

“—And when I’m done telling the story, you’re not gonna be upset with me at all because you’ll be so tickled that you won’t stop laughing—”

“Rob.”

“—And then we can laugh together and maybe make out a little? Or a lot. Definitely a lot, because I like you. Well, I love you, actually, in a maddening and sort-of-obsessed kind of way, but not like…creepy obsessed? ‘Cause I’m not a creep, I swear! I’ve only watched you sleep, like, twice. I’m just…very in love with you. I’d fall over and stop breathing and wither away into these sad, gross little flakes of dust if I didn’t have you—”

“Robin!” you exclaim, her nervous rambling coming to a halt. She falls silent, staring up at you with a sweet smile she hopes will communicate her innocence, all while the hefty orange cat in her lap continues to eat from the chopsticks she hovers above his mouth.

You take in the pair of them – Robin sitting crisscrossed on the checkered tile, clad in her reindeer-themed pajamas with cartons of last night’s Chinese takeout strewn around her; and Gremlin, the orange tabby that demanded housing, food, and belly rubs from you three Novembers ago, showing up on your doorstep as a small, sickly kitten; who is now happily overweight and nibbling on small pieces of sweet and sour pork when he shouldn’t be.

Your affection sweeps over you in seconds, warm and fuzzy as it flutters in your chest and swirls in your stomach. It’s impossible to feel any semblance of exasperation when the two of them are so goddamn adorable. Still, you keep up the ruse and say, “Babe, you know what the vet said.”

“I know!” she laments. “But I couldn’t help it! I mean, look at him! How could you say no to a face like that?”

You do as you’re told, staring down at Gremlin like you’re expecting an explanation from him. He gazes up at you and blinks in slow motion, not a single thought behind those bright amber eyes.

With a sigh, you shake your head. “He’s supposed to be on a diet. The vet said we had to have him on a strict feeding schedule. That means no grazing, no food after midnight, and certainly no takeout leftovers!”

“I…I just – here’s what happened! So, I was sleeping soundly, having this crazy dream that I was trapped in Jurassic Park and being chased by a Velociraptor, and I’m running and running, and I trip over a log that appears out of nowhere, and when I roll over, the Velociraptor puts its foot on my chest, then I literally feel a weight on my chest and think, ‘oh my god, it’s gonna eat me’, so I somehow manage to wake myself up, and sitting on my chest, breathing his funky breath in my face, is this little guy right here.” She pauses to take a deep breath, unaware that she’s still gripping the chopsticks between her fingers (and that Gremlin has been hungrily following every sweep and flourish of her hand). “And he reaches out and very gently paws at my face, and immediately, I know he’s asking for food. And like…how could I deny him when he asked so nicely?”

“Easy. You just say no.”

“But I’m weak!” she cries out. “When it comes to chunky cats and beautiful women, I’m spineless, I’m gutless, I’m putty.”

She knows what she’s doing, because any remaining tension in your body has melted away, and now you’re wearing that besotted smile of yours, the one that makes its appearance whenever she combines her chaos, theatrics, and charisma into one irresistible amalgamation – the Buckley Triple Whammy, she calls it.

“So, we climbed out of bed—careful not to wake you, of course—and snuck out to the kitchen. And when I opened the fridge, it was like we were connected in that moment, because I went for the leftovers just as he reached up to tap one of the cartons. And then—”

“You microwaved Chinese food for you and the cat to share,” you finish for her.

She nods, bashful and blushing as she strokes along Gremlin’s back with her unoccupied hand. “Guess I woke you up after all. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

But she trails off when you plop down next to her, leaning in to softly press your lips against hers.

“I’m not mad at you,” you tell her, leaning back and giggling when she chases you.

Her lips meet your cheek, then the tip of your nose, then the corner of your mouth, before they’re slotting against yours again. And you’d be content to stay here all night—especially when you nip at her bottom lip, and her tongue, warm and wet, slides slowly against yours; and in the back of her throat, she makes this needy little noise that has you itching to splay her out and coax it from her even louder—but the cat situated between the two of you, who makes his momentarily-forgotten presence known by screeching, has you pulling away from each other breathlessly.

“Sorry, Gremlin. I’m not mad at you either.” You gently tap his nose, chuckling when he hops out of Robin’s lap to go sniff the other unopened leftovers. “Still gonna make you diet, though.”

“Starting tomorrow, right?” says Robin, who’d somehow managed to hold onto her chopsticks whilst the two of you kissed. She’s digging into the sweet and sour pork again, pulling out a piece small enough for Gremlin to chew. When she looks at you—eyes dazed as they drink you in, freckled cheeks dusted the prettiest shade of pink, lips a little swollen and curved into a smile that makes you think, god, I fucking love her—you can’t deny her a single thing.

“Fine,” you concede. “Starting tomorrow.”

She cackles triumphantly, summoning Gremlin back into her lap with a whistle. There’s no way you’re going back to bed now, so you decide to join them in their late-night snacking, warming up a bowl of shrimp lo mein that you share with Robin (and, begrudgingly, Gremlin, who is a notorious shrimp fiend). Once the three of you have had your fill, you migrate to the living room, Gremlin perching in his cat tree to watch the snow blanket the ground outside. Robin plugs in the Christmas tree, then she pulls you into the lumpy couch with her, the two of you landing on top of the mismatched throw pillows as her arms wind around you from behind. Together, you bask in the incandescent glow of the lights, the radiator blowing out warm puffs of air. Robin holds you tighter, face buried in your neck.

“I really am sorry I woke you up earlier.”

“It’s fine, amorcito,” you murmur sleepily. “I already told you I wasn’t upset.”

“I know, but…I’m more than willing to make it up to you.”

You hear the playful mischief in her tone, but the way she rolls her hips against your ass, her fingers toying with the drawstring of your pajama pants, tells you that all it’ll take is a faintly whispered yes for her to move her fingers lower, lower, right where you always ache for her. You let out a regretful whine at your next answer.

“We’ve gotta be up in a few hours. The buñuelos aren’t gonna make themselves, plus my mom needs us to bring some more tomatillos for her pozole verde, and we have to make sure we arrive on time for the train, and—"

“We’re already up, amorcito. Why don’t we stay up a little longer?”

Her accent isn’t perfect, but with her lips at your ear and her hand slipping under your camisole (where it snakes up the soft flesh of your belly, fingertips stopping just beneath the naked curve of your breast), she sounds like heaven.

Without a single ounce of hesitation, you surrender yourself to her. You let her drag you back to the bedroom where her lips find yours again, desperate and unrestrained, as she whispers I love you I love you I love you; where, bathed in the snow-white light spilling through the window, she lowers you onto the bed and takes her time undressing you, eager hands roaming and rubbing every expanse of skin she exposes; where she saves your panties for last, and in the kiss she presses to the wet spot you’ve left for her, you can feel her smirk; where she makes a home for herself between your thighs, drawing out the sweet cry of her name from your lips with hungry strokes and languid swirls of her tongue; where, after she has pushed you over the precipice of ecstasy, you straddle her and your fingers beckon that desperate little whimper she’d made earlier, over and over again, louder and breathier, until the two of you are slick with sweat, limbs tangled and trembling.

With your arms around her waist, pressed so close that she can feel the racing thump of your heart, you place a kiss to her bare shoulder. You whisper that you love her. “As long as time.” She doesn’t miss a beat. “Infinite, like the universe.” Te amo. Then, with heavy eyes, you follow her into the cozy embrace of sleep.

And after he’s done searching the kitchen floor for crumbs, Gremlin hops on the bed and takes his rightful spot beside you.

#robin buckley x you #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x fem!reader #robin buckley x latina!fem!reader #robin buckley #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #latina reader #thetwelvedaysofpromptmas #thetwelvedaysofpromptmas 🎄

43 notes · View notes

whereserpentswalk · 18 hours ago

Text

There is a cave that contains a dragon. He is an old dragon, twice as ancient and twice as powerful as most dragons you'll ever meet, his fire hot enough to melt a faerie's exoskeleton, and his mouth large enough to swallow a kraken whole. But he is a restful dragon, he spends most of his time in his cave, sleeping, or reading, or looking after his eggs. But it is said in an ancient contact with humankind that whenever the land needs him most (it is unclear what counts as the land), he will finally exit his cave and lend his power to humanity.

There was a time when a great general came to the dragon and said, "great dragon! We are at war and we are losing, our country has many brave men and the best of guns and tanks and planes, but the enemy outnumbers us. We have set up conscription, so if you are truly as loyal to your country as you are said to be you shall join us, and set our enemies ablaze." Yet the dragon slept so soundly the general thought him nothing more then stone, and the general left, thinking himself a fool.

Some time later the country's bishop came to the dragon and told him, "great dragon, Saint of the cave, you have been a Saint in this country since conversion, now may you awaken by the power of God for the sake of this land. The younger generations of this nation have turned from the church, and have become atheists and idol worshippers. Awaken and turn them to the light." But the dragon slept so soundly that the bishop thought him a creature of stone, and cursed him as a false idol as he left. The dragon was decanonized after that.

A few months after that, the ceo of a major corporation came to the dragons cave and told him, "my dear freind the dragon! You defend our nation right? Well, our industry is going downhill, the companies overseas are manufacturing faster then we ever could. Pretty soon our mining companies, our car companies, even our banks will be making less then those across the ocean. Come out and do something and you'll show yourself to really be loyal." But the dragon slept, and the ceo thought him to be nothing but stone, and the ceo spat on him, not caring for ancient artifacts.

The one day a young woman came to the dragon, with no where else to go, and whispered to him, "Please, I'm sorry if this is strange, but I wish someone could help. My mother plans to kick me out of my only home. She caught me sleeping with a woman, and said I have two weeks to leave. I have nowhere to, and fear soon I'll be on the streets. She won't even talk to me now. I know I am an adult, and it is her right, but I don't want to be cold this winter." And though it seemed to be no more than a statue, the young woman swore she could hear the words "it will be done" echo from the cave, and a yellow eye open for just a momment.

The next night the young woman's mother died, they say while she was out driving alone a fireball shot out from the sky at her, burning her alive. Nobody knows where the fire came from. But the young woman inherited the house, and the land was well protected.

23 notes · View notes

devipeak · 1 day ago

Text

Some Uncle Albert Crocker headcanons (and my design sheet) ✨️✨️✨️🧞‍♂️

[Tried to come up with a hairstyle for him, but ended up just giving him a messier version of Denzel's hair. Also made his eyes the same color Dolores has (but without heterochromia, it's only her personal feature in my hc). And idk why I see him wearing a red shirt, just his vibe. Might later look up fashion of different decades to make outfits like in "The secret origin of Denzel Crocker" time periods.]

I view him and Dolores Day as twins (though all Crockers look alike, you can never tell) or at least siblings who are identical in personality. They are both, in contrast to Denzel, cheerful, friendly and easygoing. Also, while Dolores Day is pretty affectionate and loving towards his son, she has some vague understanding of his personal space and boundaries. This man doesn't. His love for his nephew can't be contained or controlled, so every meeting with him ends up by Denzel being hugged and squeezed. That's one of the reasons why Denzel isn't very excited about his uncle, as shown in "Genie Meanie Minie Mo". This thing happened gradually, though, as he was actually liked his uncle's presence when he was a child.

So, uncle Albert lives in Canada, yet during Denzel's childhood he was living in Dimmesdale in order to help his sister (she was, after all, left alone with her child). So he was kind of the man figure in the house, helping her with the stuff she couldn't do (especially technical things, that could be where Denzel takes his inventor abilities). And he also was like a father figure to Denzel, a relative who was always around. He'd also tell him different stories about genies. Dolores wouldn't really mind his obsession as he experiences it differently, and having a genie-obsessed brother helped her cope easier with her son's craziness in the future.

I view Denzel and Albert as sort of opposites. They both have an obsession with magical creatures. But while Denzel is too insane about fairies, wastes his whole life and energy on proving their existence and is miserable, Albert is just a chill guy who oh so happens to believe in genies. I don't think he minded a lot when he was put in the mental institution. And I don't think Dolores is shocked by this either. They just exchange presents like a sweet family.

So, like I said, young Denzel really liked spending time with his uncle. But as he was growing up and gained his interest that distracted him from anything else, he would try to avoid Albert (because it is a relatable thing for teens and youth to leave adult company to adults at the dinner table and also because HUGS), perhaps he would lock in his room doing some researching and only come out to say hello or goodbye.

#headcanon #art #fanart #uncle albert #albert crocker #fairly oddparents #denzel crocker #mr crocker #dolores day crocker #mrs crocker #fop fanart #fop headcanon #character headcanons #he is such a funny silly guy i feel that

25 notes · View notes

paganmind · 2 days ago

Text

TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE YULETIDE

Twas the night before Yuletide and all through the glen

Not a creature was stirring, not a fox, not a hen.

A mantle of snow shone brightly that night

As it lay on the ground, reflecting moonlight.

The faeries were nestled all snug in their trees,

Unmindful of flurries and a chilly north breeze.

The elves and the gnomes were down in their burrows,

Sleeping like babes in their soft earthen furrows.

When low! The earth moved with a thunderous quake,

Causing chairs to fall over and dishes to break.

The Little Folk scrambled to get on their feet

Then raced to the river where they usually meet.

“What happened?” they wondered, they questioned, they probed,

As they shivered in night clothes, some bare-armed, some robed.

“What caused the earth’s shudder? What caused her to shiver?”

They all spoke at once as they stood by the river.

Then what to their wondering eyes should appear

But a shining gold light in the shape of a sphere.

It blinked and it twinkled, it winked like an eye,

Then it flew straight up and was lost in the sky.

Before they could murmur, before they could bustle,

There emerged from the crowd, with a swish and a rustle,

A stately old crone with her hand on a cane,

Resplendent in green with a flowing white mane.

As she passed by them the old crone’s perfume,

Smelling of meadows and flowers abloom,

Made each of the fey folk think of the spring

When the earth wakes from slumber and the birds start to sing.

“My name is Gaia,” the old crone proclaimed

in a voice that at once was both wild and tamed,

“I’ve come to remind you, for you seem to forget,

that Yule is the time of re-birth, and yet…”

“I see no hearth fires, hear no music, no bells,

The air isn’t filled with rich fragrant smells

Of baking and roasting, and simmering stews,

Of cider that’s mulled or other hot brews.”

“There aren’t any children at play in the snow,

Or houses lit up by candles’ glow.

Have you forgotten, my children, the fun

Of celebrating the rebirth of the sun?”

She looked at the fey folk, her eyes going round,

As they shuffled their feet and stared at the ground.

Then she smiled the smile that brings light to the day,

“Come, my children,” she said, “Let’s play.”

They gathered the mistletoe, gathered the holly,

Threw off the drab and drew on the jolly.

They lit a big bonfire, and they danced and they sang.

They brought out the bells and clapped when they rang.

They strung lights on the trees, and bows, oh so merry,

In colors of cranberry, bayberry, cherry.

They built giant snowmen and adorned them with hats,

Then surrounded them with snow birds, and snow cats and bats.

Then just before dawn, at the end of their fest,

Before they went homeward to seek out their rest,

The fey folk they gathered ‘round their favorite oak tree

And welcomed the sun ‘neath the tree’s finery.

They were just reaching home when it suddenly came,

The gold light returned like an arrow-shot flame.

It lit on the tree top where they could see from afar

The golden-like sphere turned into a star.

The old crone just smiled at the beautiful sight,

“Happy Yuletide, my children,” she whispered. “Good night.”

#pagan #magick #male witches #paganism #witchcraft #druid #norse heathen #celtic #art

22 notes · View notes

d1xonss · 3 days ago

Text

Desert Rose

Chapter 67 ~ Alexandria

✧ Paring : Daryl Dixon x Rose

✧ Era : Season 5

✧ Word Count : 7.4k

In this chapter ~ Alexandria: the place of which took in survivors to give them sanctuary just like they had dreamed of. But something seemed off. Like there were holes in the story the others couldn't quite piece together. Like everything was...too good to be true.

It seemed as though after everyone collectively took one final deep breath; the gates ahead started to open slowly, almost tauntingly. Aaron helped Eric through first, guiding him through the small opening before passing him off to someone else, only then opening the gate further once he saw he was in good hands on the other side.

Though our group tensed a bit when we heard some rustling coming from the bushes to our right, Daryl quickly shooting the mystery creature with a bolt before venturing over to retrieve it. Turns out it was only a opossum. But the timing of the event couldn't have been worse as we were now faced with a few judgmental looks from the people just inside, Aaron still wearing a half smile on his face as if he weren't affected at all.

"We brought dinner." Daryl said dryly as he held up the animal by the tail.

One of the men visibly grimaced at the sight, causing my eyes to narrow slightly already at the lack of welcome. "It's okay." Aaron reassured with a gesture of his hand, "Come on in guys."

The invitation caused us all to move in slowly, hesitantly, feeling Daryl inching closer to me by the second while scanning the surroundings of the place. The sound of the gates closing again from behind me caused me to look over my shoulder, watching them shut with a slam. The sight caused a strange feeling to stir in my gut. I suddenly felt like a caged animal. Like I was trapped.

"Before we take this any further, I'm going to need you to hand over your weapons." the man with the curly hair demanded, his words only making me clutch my bow tighter, "You stay, you hand them over."

"We don't know if we want to stay." Rick countered back.

Aaron looked back and forth between the two men nervously, "It's okay, Nicholas." he muttered.

I held back a snort at the mention of his name but somehow managed to keep it together. After all it kind of made sense. "If we were going to use them, we would've started already." Rick informed casually, keeping his cold tone.

"Let them talk to Deanna first." Aaron said.

"Who's Deanna?" Abraham questioned from the back.

Aaron's attention turned back to us, "She knows everything you'd want to know about this place. Rick why don't you start."

There was a beat of silence as Rick considered the suggestion, before a walker's snarl alerted all of us from outside the thick walls. We all turned back to see one of them making its way up to the gate, passing the RV as it hobbled.

"Rose." Rick said simply with a nod.

I wordlessly walked back over to the entrance and loaded an arrow in place, squinting my eyes and taking a second to aim before firing it right in the corpse's head, watching it fall limp with a thud. The scene had apparently caused a few heads to turn as Nicholas gave me a funny look that I couldn't quite read. Acting as if he had never seen anyone kill one of these things before.

"It's a good thing we're here." Rick commented a bit sarcastically.

There was a bit of awkward silence that followed before Aaron cleared his throat, gesturing for us to follow to guide us where their supposed leader would talk to each one of us. I scanned my surroundings cautiously the whole walk there and was amazed to see so many clean houses and neat gardens, along with people talking and laughing just down the road without a care in the world. Like what was outside these walls didn't even exist to them. Being here made me oddly uncomfortable, I just didn't know why. I felt as if I had just walked into the twilight zone.

My guard didn't drop as we all collectively waited for Rick's "interview" to be over, my eyes anxiously watching the door he disappeared behind as I noticed it was taking a little longer than any of us anticipated. A part of me thought that maybe Rick was giving this woman a run for her money, and rightfully so, needing to know what we would be getting into when living here. From how little I've seen, it seemed as though these people were clueless and ignorant when it came to the world we lived in now. That none of them really knew what lied out there; the way they painted this place as the perfect picture, it wasn't difficult to figure out.

Suddenly the door swung back open, catching all of our attention to see Rick exiting followed by a smaller woman who I only assumed was Deanna, a welcoming smile on her face as she stood heightened and proud. She couldn't have been taller than five feet and had straight, red hair that came to about her shoulders. She looked to be around mid-fifties and carried herself in a way that surprised me just the smallest bit.

"Alright, who's next?" she asked as Rick parted from her presence.

My eyes never strayed away from her while my arms were folded tightly over my chest, and it didn't take long for her eyes to meet mine from across the sea of people. She smiled a little brighter at me, but I couldn't even manage a fake one at the moment. Too many thoughts were running through my head to even pretend I was happy to be here.

"You look like fun." she stated, unable to tell if her words were meant to be as sarcastic as they came across. The nod of her head stopped me from responding as I reluctantly stepped forward. Facing the inevitable. I followed the woman inside the room, soaking it all in as I heard her shut the door behind us, excluding the others from the words we were going to exchange.

I looked around the office space, slowly moving around the couch that sat in the middle of the room, "Do you mind if I record this?" her voice cut through the quiet.

I glanced over my shoulder, "Excuse me?"

"Our conversation; do you mind if I record it?" she clarified, pointing toward a video camera that was pointed right at the hot seat I would probably find myself in.

My shoulders slumped in a shrug, "Knock yourself out." I muttered simply before turning my attention elsewhere.

The slight attitude I had didn't seem to affect her as she was quick to sit her happy ass down on the couch in front of me and press record, the camera sitting just a few inches behind her up on some kind of tripod. I took note of how neat the room was, along with the horrible decorations she seemed quite proud of. I knew that judging the interior design choices of this bitch's office wouldn't really affect how this all played out, but I found it funny. Especially since it was so God awful, the colors clashing was enough to make my eyes sting.

"Please have a seat." she broke the silence once again.

I watched as she motioned to the very chair I had predicted before, pursing my lips slightly before slowly complying to sit down on the piece of furniture. I maintained eye contact as I got comfortable, wanting her to know I wasn't nervous in the slightest. Though I had my speculations that this community could be dangerous, it turned out to be the complete opposite. These people seemed to be soft. And again; it didn't take a genius to recognize that.

"I'm Deanna Monroe, and you are?"

I took in a breath, "Rose...Dixon."

Her smile stretched a bit wider, "It's very nice to meet you Rose." she spoke politely. I nodded my head awkwardly, my hands fumbling a bit as I waited for her to get on with it. "If I may ask...what did you do before all of this?"

"Why does that matter?" I questioned in confusion, "Who I was back then is definitely not the same person I am now."

She nodded at me, "That may be true. But I still believe it matters."

I took a long and exaggerated sigh before just biting the bullet, "I was a cop."

"Oh, like Rick?"

Her question threw me off slightly, though I still didn't miss a beat, "He told you that...?"

She shook her head, "Not at first. But I eventually managed to get some answers out of him. He was a tough one to crack, I must admit." she joked.

An uncomfortable silence followed as I processed her nonchalant words. There was no way she was going to get that much information out of me, no matter how much she wanted to press. It surprised me greatly that Rick even told her what he did in the first place.

"No, not like Rick." I eventually answered, "Undercover."

"Wow, I didn't know we had a detective in the group. How exciting." she beamed, seeming to be slightly impressed.

I clicked my tongue, "Again...I'm not the same person I was back then. I'm not a cop anymore."

"Maybe not...but it was what you were good at in the beginning. That counts for something."

I just shrugged in response. I couldn't wrap my head around why this would matter to her instead of absolutely anything else. My assumption was she was going to ask what we've been through outside the walls, the things that haunted our dreams yet made us impossibly stronger. I expected her to pry into the things that none of us wanted to repeat out loud, but perhaps I was wrong.

"So...why do you want to be here?" she continued.

"I'm only here because I want my family safe." I answered with no hesitation, "They always come first."

She nodded in understanding, "You care more about them than you do yourself." she said more as a statement then a question, "I feel the same way about my husband and my sons, I get it."

My focus then tore away from her momentarily to focus on the little red light on the camera, blinking at me every so often. The simple thing put me in some kind of trace that I couldn't snap back out of. How was this place even real?

"And I can only assume you're married."

My gaze snapped back over to her at the sound of her voice again, confusion crossing my features, "Yeah..."

"Rick seemed very fond of you, he talked about you nearly the entire time he was in here. I managed to put the pieces together myself."

My eyes widened at the implication behind her words. How was this happening again? "No, no, Rick- he's not- we're not-" I huffed in annoyance, my patience already stretched thin at her assumptions, "It's not like that at all, I can promise you."

Her expression shifted into something sympathetic, "Oh, I'm sorry that was quite rude of me, wasn't it?"

Yes. "No, it's...fine," I waved off, "Rick...he's just been like a brother to me since the start. The first person who really saw through my bullshit, or...whatever."

"I see." she nodded, "Seems like he's your partner in crime, no matter what the relationship looks like. It's admirable. And you all really look like a tight knit family out there and have been through so much I can imagine. Maybe even suffered a loss?"

It felt as though my blood ran cold at her last words, the sudden change in topic throwing me for a loop. No one should mention those touchy subjects to begin with. But the fact that she continued to try and get things out of me the way she was, it really started to get under my skin in the most uncomfortable way you can imagine.

"What...?" I asked in an oddly calm tone.

"It just seems as though you've all lost so much...but especially you." she continued, motioning to my face as she traced a line down her own neck.

The memories that I had tried so hard to suppress forever, all came flooding back to the surface the minute she brought up the reminders on my skin. It felt as though her gaze was like fire as she studied them, burning me with her eyes as if it would give her the answers she was searching for. My heartbeat quickened and I found it harder and harder to not lunge at this woman for her lack of human decency. But one glance behind her head and the reminder of the camera recording kept me still. My family needed this place, and if I screwed up our chance because I couldn't keep my cool, I would feel terrible. I just needed to breathe.

But my lack of response caused her to continue, "I found I'm good at reading people. Especially when it comes up so clear."

That was it.

"Can I ask you something, Deanna?" I asked as I leaned forward a bit in my seat.

For a moment she looked a bit thrown off, "Oh, of course." she nodded, an intrigued smile on her face. In the back of my mind, I knew she was completely oblivious of what she did. But I felt I had to say something to make her understand, so she wouldn't offend anyone else like she just did to me.

"Have you ever once been outside these gates?" I asked, pointing out the window.

She followed my finger for a moment, "Well, no...not since this all started."

I hummed at her unsurprising answer, "Have you ever once...lost someone close to you in the cruelest way possible?"

"...No. No, I haven't." she answered after a brief moment.

"Have you ever once been in a situation where you come across strangers...and they made you wish you were dead?"

She didn't reply. She didn't need to. Because I wasn't done.

"I've been here for what, around twenty minutes now? And here's what I've figured out. You probably have a select group of people who go outside the walls from time to time when you're low on supplies, but other than that; no one leaves. Your whole community likes to stay behind the gates playing make believe with your tea sets, pretending like what's happening out there isn't really happening. So much so that you're trying to convince others like us, that we should come in here and play pretend right along with you. Or at least that's what you want us to think."

Her eyes began to grow wide, hanging onto every word I was saying as I couldn't seem to stop. It just kept pouring out like word vomit.

"You probably only want people like us in your community because you need someone to start doing your dirty work for you. You have no idea what it's like out there, and I'm not talking about the dead. The people out there trying to survive...they're much worse than you could possibly imagine. And forgive me if this came off as rude, but I felt you needed to know the blunt truth of who you're dealing with now."

The woman's mouth was slightly agape once I had finally finished everything I wanted to say, opening and closing as if she wanted to speak, though she couldn't find the words. But the funny thing was, she knew that I had read her like a book. I saw the switch in her eyes when she noticed the moment I had figured her out.

"Do I still look like fun?" I questioned with a tilt of my head.

She nearly looked like a fish out of water as her eyes grew even larger, utterly speechless that I had just spoken to her like that, but I only took this as my cue to see myself out. Surprisingly, I didn't say all of those things to her because she had triggered something. I said those things because she needed to understand the severity of what we've seen before we even considered to build a life here like she probably had envisioned.

When my hand brushed against the doorknob to leave, I paused, glancing over at her one more time, "Deanna?"

She looked back at me, "I'm good at reading people too." I said before pushing on the door to exit the room, leaving her alone again.

Once I made it out of the house, I was met with the others still lingering outside, forcing a small reassuring smile to show that I was okay. Even though the pressure in my chest was still present as I stewed over the things that were said. Though when I attempted to walk back over and join them along the wall, a woman with black hair and thick glasses stopped me before I even got the chance.

"Excuse me, could I get your weapons?" she asked.

I raised an eyebrow at her with a scoff, "No."

She looked a bit shocked at my blunt response, stuttering a bit as she tired to explain her reasoning for wanting to collect them all from us, explaining the armory and how all the guns lied in there.

Glenn sighed from behind her, "Rose, we all had to fork them up while you were in there, come on. Give her a break."

I rolled my eyes at his subtle guilt trip before reluctantly pulling the two handguns out from where I carried them, handing them over to her a bit roughly. She caught them clumsily before clearing her throat timidly, adjusting the glasses on her face before scurrying off to add my weapons to the large bin, wheeling them all away.

My eyes followed her figure as she turned the corner with every firearm we had, reaching out my hand dramatically as it almost pained me to see them go. A few members laughed a little at my dramatic effect, before I quickly noticed that the Grimes were suddenly gone from the small circle.

"Where's Rick and Carl?" I asked.

"Aaron offered to take them to show the houses we're gonna be staying in. They're just right down the street if you wanna head over there." Maggie said.

I nodded, "Okay." I agreed before my eyes found Daryl's, pointing a finger at him, "But watch your ass, I think she's coming for you next."

He let out a small scoff as he nodded, "Alright."

I bided the others a goodbye before heading off on my own, a part of me wanting to take a peek at what the rest of this community had to offer. Everything seemed calm and quiet, but not exactly in the way that I had expected. In fact it surprised me that I didn't see any nosy neighbors watching my every move as I walked down the street and past the many houses. Well...maybe they were watching. But from inside through the windows like normal people.

I didn't know how to feel. The closest thing I could describe it was that it felt like some sort of fever dream. None of it felt real in the slightest, and I knew that if we did end up staying, it would take a lot of time to get used to it all. And I definitely wasn't jumping for joy when it came to the idea of meeting new people. I got insulted my first few minutes here by the woman in charge, I could only imagine how the others must be.

My thoughts were then brought to a halt as I caught sight of a white house that had the door left wide open, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes. For the love of God. I pushed myself to walk up the porch steps with the intention to shut it, but a sudden body colliding with mine sent me back a few steps. The blonde woman let out a gasp of surprise as she seemed to ram right into me, her eyes widening a bit as she quickly stepped back.

"Oh gosh, I'm sorry." she breathed, giving me a warm smile.

I waved her off silently, still trying to process the surprise attack, "I just noticed the door. Is this your hours, or...?

She shook her head, "No, no you're at the right place, I'm assuming you're a part of Rick's group. He's just right inside."

My eyebrows knitted together in confusion as I slowly nodded, "Okay..." I trailed off.

"Oh, I'm Jessie." she said as she quickly stuck out her hand for me to take.

I eyed her cautiously before shaking her hand lightly, "Rose."

"Nice to meet you." she smiled, "Well, I'll get out of your hair, I was just dropping some things off. Welcome to the neighborhood." she said kindly before heading down the porch steps without another word.

What the hell was all that? "Okay..." I repeated awkwardly before slowly heading inside the house that was supposedly ours.

I glanced around to see if I could spot Rick or Carl, but they were nowhere to be seen in the main space. Though I couldn't help but marvel as I took everything in, seeing how clean and neat it all looked, the whole place smelling of lavender and some kind of cleaning product. Everything was painted white, sparkling almost when the light from outside hit it just right, far from what any of us were used to. The hardwood floors seemed shiny and slick, like you couldn't walk around with just socks otherwise you would surely fall right on your ass.

It was almost too nice, too clean and tidy for any of us to accept. It almost seemed as though we had to work for this just like how it used to be in the old world, but no, it was simply handed to us. Though there was still something off that I couldn't place, something about it was not as warm and cozy as I expected. But then again it was something unfamiliar, and things like that usually didn't sit well with me. At least not in the beginning.

Though my attention was torn away from the decor when I heard a series of footsteps coming down the stairs, turning around toward the doorway of the living room to see Carl approaching me with a large smile.

"Hey! How was the interview?" he asked.

I didn't want to lie, but I also didn't want him to know the truth. "It was fine." I said vaguely with a fake smile, "She just asked me some basic stuff."

He nodded, "Cool...oh hey come look at this!" he said enthusiastically, grabbing and pulling my arm towards the kitchen.

He let go of me the moment he approached the sink in front of us, reaching forward to turn it on to see water flowing out of the faucet. A part of me was honestly pretty impressed that they had running water here, but the look on Carl's face, I couldn't help but laugh.

"Running water." he said in amazement, shutting off the tap.

"Running water," I repeated, "Which means showers."

The mere idea of a hot shower caused us both to sigh in sync, which only then made us laugh as we seemed to share the same opinion at how heavenly that sounded. "I'm gonna go take one now." he nodded, coming over to kiss my cheek quickly before he was off to the basement.

After I watched him disappear down the steps, I found myself walking over to the sink to turn it on as well, almost as if I had to do it myself to actually believe it was real. I remembered the times we had running water back at the prison, but it seemed like nothing compared to this. My hand then turned it off again with a small huff, looking around the clean kitchen.

I felt like I was becoming bipolar with how much my emotions were all over the place. Going back and forth between thinking we could have a future here and then being torn thinking it we couldn't fully trust what was being given to us. It was exhausting. But then again everything I was feeling was valid and completely normal considering how much we've been through. Time would do us some good no matter what came next.

"Thinking hard?"

I jumped slightly at the sudden presence, although I recognized his voice quite well. I looked over my shoulder expecting to see Rick exactly like I left him, but my eyes widened at his appearance. He was dressed from head to toe in new, clean clothes with his beard completely gone, his hair seeming a bit shorter as well and still wet from the shower he must've taken.

"Jesus, who the hell are you?" I joked a bit. He chuckled lightly while I stepped up to get a closer look at his clean-shaven face, "Huh...looking good." I complimented.

"Yeah?" he asked as he ran a hand over his jaw.

"Yeah," I nodded, "You look a little less...like a mountain man."

He laughed again at the comparison, my eyes subconsciously looking around the house again before I spoke up, "Uh...so were you aware about the strange woman that was in here a few minutes ago?"

He gave me a weird look but then it seemed to click, "Oh, Jessie? Yeah, she just stopped by to drop off some welcome wagon thing, and then..." he made a gesture with his hands, "Offered to cut my hair."

I hummed with a nod of my head as the silence lingered, the air growing somewhat awkward between us the moment I mentioned her. I couldn't place my finger on why, but Rick seemed to grow almost uncomfortable like he wanted to squirm away from the topic.

But he eventually cleared his throat and nudged my shoulder, "So uh, how did the interview go?"

"It was uh... it was fine." I said casually.

His eyes narrowed a bit, "Fine?"

I nodded again before walking further through the kitchen to look around a bit more, now feeling like I wanted to squirm away from this topic. His footsteps followed me and I silently knew the conversation wasn't over, but yet I tried to distract myself with the fancy magnets on the fridge.

"She said something." he assumed, hitting it right on the money.

I sighed heavily and turned around to face him once more, "Someone always says something when they don't know shit."

"What happened?" he asked softly.

I shrugged, "She just brought up the fact that we had clearly lost a lot, going on and on about how she was good at reading people. She kept pushing and then...that was it. I shut her up after that."

"And what did you say?" he asked.

"Well, I'm not going to reenact for you." I huffed with a roll of my eyes, "All I know is that she wants us to go out and do the difficult shit instead of her own people, that's why she wanted us here in the first place. No one else wants to get their hands dirty. None of these people know shit about what's out there, and they aren't going to get it."

He took a second to listen to my words before hanging his head, "It isn't gonna be easy, and I know that. It feels weird having to go back to how things were before...but what else should we do? Go back out there?"

I shook my head quickly, "That's not what I'm staying-"

"But I'm asking." he said seriously, "Do you think we should go back out there? Do you think this place is real enough...is it worth it?"

Thinking back to before we arrived here, I remembered the promise I made to myself. I wanted all of us to have a guaranteed future, a life that we could build off of. And the chance of having that in a place like this was enough to convince me to come in the first place; but was it actually going to happen? Or would something get in the way like it always does?

"I think we should try." I finally answered, "The kids need this- we all do. It'll just take time...in the back of my mind, I know that."

He gave me a nod, "Yeah, I think you're right. I just hope it goes smoothly."

I scoffed, "When does it ever?"

He gave me a sad, understanding smile without having to say another word, motioning me over with extended arms. I pushed myself forward to lean into him, wrapping my arms around his waist and closing my eyes in content at his comfort after the absolute shitshow with Deanna. He always somehow knew what to say, how to listen. It only reminded me of how lucky I was to have these kinds of people in my life.

Though as we pulled away from each other, I looked down to see how dirty I still was. "Shit I'm sorry, I'm filthy." I cringed as I wiped his white shirt a bit.

He laughed, "It's okay. There's a shower upstairs that has everything, there's even some fresh clothes in the bedrooms stocked up for us."

"Yeah, that sounds nice." I breathed, "Just let me know when the rest of them get here?"

"Will do." he nodded, placing a hand on my shoulder as I passed by him to head upstairs.

It was like a maze trying to find the master bathroom, having to pass a multitude of rooms down the long hallways just to find a fresh change of clothes. But I found it was worth the search, seeing the amount of clean clothes were like a godsent, and the bathroom even more so. Everything was white and clean just like the rest of the house, but at this point that was unsurprising.

I slowly peeled off my dirty clothes that seemed to be clung onto my body with the dirt, walker blood, and sweat clinging to every bit of the fabric. It was a disgusting sensation, the tingling it left behind made me want to peel my skin off with how overstimulating it was. I didn't hesitate then to step toward the large glass shower, ignoring my reflection as much as I could while stepping in and turning on the water.

Splaying myself under the hot stream felt euphoric and I could only imagine what it would be like when I was actually clean. I could practically feel all the dirt and grime just melting off of me as I stood frozen under the showerhead, before my eyes trailed off toward the different kinds of soap sitting in the corner of the glass box. I drenched my entire body in bubbles to clean from the hair on my head down to my feet. And it felt incredible.

I easily could've stayed there for hours basking in the water, but knowing everyone would be heading back soon unfortunately snapped me out of my daze. I finished up quickly after that as I didn't want to linger, stepping onto the tile once more to grab one of the many white fluffy towels from under the sink. After drying myself off and ringing out my hair, I delicately put on the clothes I had brought in with me, noticing they were a little big, yet nothing too noticeable. Still, it concerned me how much weight I lost when we were out on the road.

Just then, there was a knock at the door as I finished buttoning the jeans, "Daryl and Carol made it back." Rick announced from the other side.

"Be right out." I responded briefly, before looking through a few drawers to find a brush to run through my hair quickly. Detangling the knots took longer than I would like to admit, but it felt nice to be able to finally run my fingers through the locks. It was like a little bit of life was brought back into me as I stepped out of the steamy bathroom, like a breath of fresh air returned to my lungs at just the feeling of being clean.

The stairs below creaked with each step I took as I made my way downstairs, my gaze immediately being drawn to the figure outside on the steps just past the screen door. Upon further inspection I saw it was Daryl, my eyes squinting to try and figure out what the hell he was doing. I quietly stepped outside without him noticing, seeing now that he was skinning the opossum he had caught earlier on the nice white steps, getting almost everything bloody without a care in the world. An amused smirk crossed my face as I watched him for a moment, knowing that some things would certainly never change.

"Oh honey, won't you gut our opossums in the kitchen?" I spoke sarcastically.

He glanced up at me from his hard work, a huff passing his lips, "Ah, ya think yer so funny." he drawled out with a shake of his head.

"No, I know I am." I joked as I walked over to take a seat next to him, "So, how'd you like Deanna?"

His eyes met mine once more as he didn't say a word, only taking his clean hand to poke his nose up with his pointer finger. Stuck up.

"Oh, yeah." I agreed.

The day seemed to pass by in a flash as the sky was now covered in complete darkness. Once everyone managed to finish up the interviews with Deanna, it was decided that we would all stay in the same house for the first few nights. We didn't want to be apart from each other, whether it was for protection or emotional support, I thought in the end it was a great idea. I mean, they took our weapons and tried to split us up into separate homes after we hadn't even settled in the slightest. Thinking about it now rubbed me the wrong way.

We had pushed all the furniture aside in the living room to make more space for people to sleep on the floor with some blankets and pillows, everyone starting to get settled for the night. I sat myself by the window as I watched for anything outside, but there was nothing. No movement at all as it was just completely peaceful on the streets of the community, like everyone had turned in for the night already just as we were. But better to be safe than sorry.

Though suddenly there came a quiet knock from the front door which caused us all to immediately become alert. Some sat up and grabbed a hold of the handheld weapon nearest to them, and I even found myself lifting the flannel I had on to hover over one of my throwing knives. As if the intruder who wanted to kill us would knock politely first.

Rick was the one who stepped up towards the door, glancing to all of us as he silently raised his hand for us to back off a bit. He then slowly opened the door, only to reveal Deanna standing there with her hands folded together, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes as I slumped back a bit.

"Rick, I-" she started, but then got a bit distracted with how different he looked, "Wow." she muttered as her eyes widened.

He groaned quietly in irritation and looked back towards the rest of us, rolling his eyes the moment he caught sight of the look on my face. "I didn't know what was under there." she continued, "Listen, I don't mean to interrupt I just wanted to stop by and see how you all were settling."

Her eyes made a scan around the room and her words trailed off, seeing us all in the same space, "Oh my, staying together...smart." she said more to herself than anyone else.

"No one said we couldn't." Rick stated.

"You said you were family, that's what you said. Absolutely amazing to me how people with completely different backgrounds and nothing in common can become that. Don't you think?"

Rick ignored her comment, "Everyone said you gave them jobs."

"Mhm, yeah. Part of this place; looks like the communists won after all." she replied.

"Well, you didn't give me one." he pointed out.

"I have." she confirmed, "I just haven't told you yet, same with Michonne. I'm closing in on something for Sasha and I'm just trying to figure Mr. and Mrs. Dixon out...but I will." she finished, looking directly at me.

I held her firm gaze until she turned back to Rick once more, "You look good." she complimented quietly before turning around on her heel to leave.

I bit the inside of my cheek and waited until Rick finally shut the door before looking back up at him knowingly, "Don't start." he warned with his finger pointed right at me.

That's when I finally let out the laugh I had been holding, hearing a few others join me from the couch, "You look good. " I mocked, only for him to push the side of my head away from him to get me to stop teasing him. But even he couldn't stop the small smile from spreading onto his face.

Although even after the laughs and the late night discussions, and after everyone else dozed off, I still couldn't sleep for the life of me. I laid wide awake on my back with Daryl's arm loosely wrapped around me, as we were side by side on the ground with a blanket beneath us to soften the hard floor. Though for the past hour, I could feel him fighting sleep, trying to stay awake when he noticed I hadn't even shut my eyes.

"You can rest." I said, so softly I thought he wouldn't hear me.

His head jerked forwards slightly upon hearing my voice, sighing quietly with droopy eyes, "Nah. I ain't sleepin if you ain't sleepin." he said stubbornly.

I laughed quietly, "Okay." I whispered, snuggling into him again and feeling his grip tighten around me instinctively. But it seemed as though only a few moments passed, before the man was snoring loudly right next to my ear.

I held back the laugh that threatened to escaped, before deciding to slowly slip out from under his grasp. Because I couldn't sleep, I figured it wouldn't hurt to get some fresh air and stare at the stars for a while, not wanting to disturb any of the others. Even though we were locked safely behind the gates and allegedly safe from the walkers; we still weren't completely safe from the people surrounding us. Maybe that's why my subconscious was keeping me awake, or insomnia really was something I would never get rid of.

My feet carefully tip toed over the many bodies covering the floor, seeing everyone was fast asleep after only a few hours of shutting the lights off for the night. Stepping lightly on the floor, fearing it would creak under my weight, I slowly opened the front door to walk outside before closing it behind me with a soft click.

I hugged my knees to my chest as I sat on the steps of the house, goosebumps rising on my flesh from the slight chill in the air. Looking at the stars was something that brought me much needed peace, I don't know what it was about it. But it was special. Following them with my eyes, I began to make out different patterns that I was able to recognize, or ones that seemed brighter than others. Perhaps those were planets. But then out of the clear blue, a shooting star flew across the night sky in a flash, and my heart skipped a beat, my emotions rising at full force.

"Hi Bethy." I whispered, letting a single tear fall on my cheek.

What was once something that made me sob for hours on end, now brought me peace. Knowing that somehow, somewhere, she was okay. Maybe that's another reason why I loved looking at the twinkling lights, because I was constantly looking for something that would bring me back to her.

"Hey." I heard a voice call out quietly from my left, my eyes widening seeing it was Aaron standing there awkwardly, waving from the sidewalk.

Quickly, I averted my eyes and wiped my tears away with my sleeve so he wouldn't see me in such a vulnerable state, even if it was just for a moment. And though I wasn't looking at him, I still heard the sound of his footsteps trailing up closer to the steps.

"Can't sleep?" he asked softly.

I sniffled once more, running my sleeve under my nose as I still didn't meet his eyes, "Something like that..."

"Mind if I sit?"

I shrugged and clearly didn't give him a real response, though he took the silence as a yes as he slowly sat himself down right next to me. I looked back up at the sky for a moment or two, continuing what I had been doing before he interrupted my thoughts. Only now I seemed to be doing it to avoid his gaze, avoid questions that I preferred not to answer. It was no shock that he grew curious as to why I was sitting on the steps alone, crying softly to myself, but I just prayed he would somehow keep his mouth shut.

"Who're you looking for up there?" he then asked almost casually.

My head whipped in his direction again, and his eyes suddenly grew wide when they locked with mine. Probably because of the death glare I unconsciously gave him. "Sorry," he whispered, "I shouldn't have asked."

The man then ducked his head down to hide the embarrassment he surely felt, a beat of awkward silence passing before I let out a quiet sigh. "My sister." I eventually answered.

He peeked his head up slowly with a sad, but growing smile on his face, "What was her name?"

"Beth." I said now looking back at the sky. I then shook my head, "She wasn't related to me by blood...but it got to a point where it felt like she was. She passed not too long after you found us and...it's just been hard without her around."

"I'm so sorry." he said sincerely.

I shook my head, "It's not your fault."

Silence fell between us, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was nice to know that he wasn't going to pry or push me to talk about the things I didn't want to, he was just simply going to listen. If I was being honest with myself; I though he was nice, liked him even. Trusting people was just hard to do these days when you don't know exactly what their true intentions are.

"I had an older brother." he suddenly confessed, "And I, uh...lost him pretty early on. But what sucked the most is that...I didn't fully understand what happened to him at the time, he was just...gone."

He had turned. That was the worst way to go in my opinion. When it wasn't quick and easy, it turned into something even more awful if that were even possible.

"I'm sorry." I said.

He shook his head, "It's okay."

"No, I mean for everything. For not trusting you about this place, for pointing a gun at your head...for being a major bitch." I huffed, "I was just nervous about this whole thing- hell all of us still are. But we're here and we're trying...that's what matters right?"

He nodded, "Yeah. And it's okay, I understand the weariness. I mean a guy coming out of nowhere saying he was watching you, trying to get you back to his camp. Stranger danger is pretty serious." he chuckled.

"So, you do agree it was kind of creepy?" I asked.

He sucked in a breath, "A little...but my heart was in the right place."

"Well, why didn't you just say that from the beginning? You would've gotten us here a whole lot quicker with that line." I said sarcastically.

He perked up a bit, "Really?"

I blinked, "No," I laughed, "That was sarcasm at its finest. You should get used to it."

"Oh." he muttered, beginning to quietly laugh with me, "Well...thanks for trusting me, at least a little."

I rolled my eyes, "Yeah, don't make me regret it."

"I won't...scouts honor." he stated as he crossed an x over his chest, beginning to stand up to his feet.

Scouts honor? No way.

"Hey, Aaron?" I called out before he fully had the chance to leave. "Were you...a boy scout at some point in your life?"

He paused for a moment before nodding slowly, almost suspiciously at how I figured that out, "Yeah...I was an eagle scout for a few years. Why?"

I waved him off, "Oh, no reason."

He nodded again, "Right...well, goodnight." he said with a wave before heading down the sidewalk to turn in for the night.

Once he was finally out of my sight, I allowed myself to laugh, a little baffled that I was able to guess that bit of information just from his personality alone. I guess it was no longer an insult now since it was true.

But when the silence returned, I took a minute to just close my eyes and let my mind stop racing, reminded of the things I couldn't stop pondering over. I hoped that this would work out for the best in the end. Coming here was a big thing, instead of dipping our toes in the water of uncharted territory, we full on jumped in. But I was doing it for them, and that right now was the only thing keeping me here. It wasn't the big fancy houses or the running water. It was all for them.

~ Thanks for reading!

Taglist ~ @justareader95 @hayley1998 @ryoujoking @sipsthecoffee @winterassassin1804 @marsmallow433 @catlalice @writingstreetspirit @silentlysurffering98 @mystictf @remuslittlesister

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon x original character #daryl dixon series #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead series #twd #twd fanfiction #twd daryl dixon #twd daryl #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus #desert rose

24 notes · View notes

n0tamused · 3 days ago

Note

Hiii! Saw you were doing requests! Could you do a Aragorn x reader? It is Christmas time and they are spending it together with the fellowship (Boromir is alive) please?? 🙏

A/n: Thank you so much for the request! I really hope you like this :D <3 And we all love the 'everyone lives au'.. I do hope I did this request justice, and that I executed his character well. Feel free to let me know your thoughts!

Contents: Aragorn x F!Reader (reader is regarded as 'queen' and 'my lady', but nothing much besides that), fluff, everyone lives au lol, use of Y/n

Words: 3268

Ko-fi

Snow pelted the rolling valleys beyond the White City in cloaks of white shimmer with the golden touch of the rising sun. It was a cold wind that sighed in the air, bringing down the morning chill. Walls of high white stone looked pale yellow and young once more and the world was quiet.

There was little doubt that one talking about ways to wake up peacefully wouldn't name such a sight. One right before you now. Even for the lowliest of creatures, a moment of quiet was always a welcome respite. The tips of your fingers were touched by the cold breath of the morning, your nose as well and the tips of your ears and toes as the balcony held you in its open palm. Sleep had all but fled you that night, and having suffered restlessness far too long you rose with the first light that greeted the sky. While you got used to the sight unraveling before you, the view was no less beautiful than the first day you gazed upon it. From so high above you glimpsed a green banner down in the streets, and another brown one, and besides many others stood green ornaments and decorated big wreaths tangled with ribbons upon the house doors and their corners. From up above it all looked so small, you could almost reach for it and pinch it between your fingers.

Couple of days before you had walked through the cities after receiving Aragorn and yours’ old friends, now come as guests, and there you've seen your people prepared for the approaching holiday. Despite the cold, their faces glowed with warmth and joy. Ever since the war ended the hopes these people displayed was almost strange in how brightly it shone, both in their eyes and in their work. Aragorn had commented on it as well, expressing the unfamiliarity that graced his heart, but he did not cast it away. It was a welcome unfamiliarity. For someone who witnessed and felt the darkness, it felt like accepting aid for the first time. But once it was grasped in your hands you swore to do what you could to protect it forever more. Aragorn, although now a king, never fit into his kingly role as one might’ve expected. He made it a point to walk outside without fancy robes or the crown, being a simple man just like the rest of them, and you were not the only one that appreciated such acts.

Despite your clouded and mixed thoughts, your own joy arose, bubbling along the surface as you became surrounded by more familiar faces over the past couple of days. Aragon had been affected by it too, in the most positive ways. Whatever weight was on his shoulders suddenly melted from him. Friends, family - these were no ordinary words for him. They meant a great deal and carried even greater weight. Suddenly a sound graced your ears, a shuffling from behind and something light dragging across the ground, but you did not turn to meet it. The morning held you still.

“Dearest..” a voice came behind you before a fur cloak kissed your back and thinly veiled arms. “..what brought you from bed and my arms so early this morn?”

He's whispering in that gruff tone of his, no less gentle than any other time he addressed you. Warmth clung to him and the scent of warm blankets tickled your nose, tempting you. Aragorn’s kingly life also meant a certain extent of domesticity that had warmed the old Ranger's heart furthermore. You sigh a smile as you feel warmth seep through your frosty skin, feeling it ebb and flow like a thousand lover’s kisses as your hands caught the edges of it to bring it closer, only now willing to admit you might not be as immune to the cold as you wished to be. Turning your head to him you noted the darkened, sleep heavy eyes as he took you in, patiently waiting for your response to break him from his dream-like state. There was no rush to be had, especially not so early.

“Nothing worrying, Aragorn.. I am alright” you finally told him when his eyes began to wander, looking for a response written between your features; they snapped back to your eyes when you replied. There was a subtle pull at the corners of his mouth and a small nod, displaying that his ears have not given into the dreams and its call.

“Good.. but you need your strength” he spoke plainly, his arms pulling the cloak further around you. There was more to be had to his words, but his refusal to speak more than needed amused you enough.

A chuckle falls from your lips like a scoff, your lips pulling into a grin. “For what?.. Oh, do you see the upcoming evening like a battle?”

Aragorn can’t help but roll his eyes at you, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder instead as his eyelids give under their weight once more. His arms wrapped around your middle, bringing the cloak closer around you. “I would’ve thought you would have missed your old companions, especially after not seeing them so long.. Should I go warn them of events to come?”

“Enough of you..” his arms affectionately squeeze you in his own way of defiance, pushing his chin closer to your neck where his beard tickled and pricked at your skin. “You very well know my words did not hold such meaning, so why must you make it out to be so?” Although you cannot clearly see him now, with him being so closely pressed up against your side, you can feel the curve of his lips.

“To help you wake up. Be sure, my teasing is not nearly what the teasing of others will be..” Your tone had dropped to a comfortable whisper, nuzzling back against him before he slowly began to sway and teeter you away from the balcony, leading you back inside.

“That I know.. but I still have half a day's worth of time to prepare. I believe you’d help me better by joining me in bed for a moment longer”

“Of course. Yet I will have you know that I cannot simply let you sleep again.. We should talk about today” Gently you reached for his hand, your cold fingers giving him a squeeze, but internally you could feel him frown at the coldness. Once back inside, he was quick to close the balcony door and bring you to bed.

“That is quite fine, I did not expect to rest for much longer. You seem excited.. Could that be the reason for your restlessness?”

“Perhaps” you smile at him, sliding underneath the thick blanket, meeting his gaze as he follows in after you. “Perhaps I am just happy to see you be so…yourself?” you continue in a mellow tone, reaching your hand out to cup his cheek. He leans in, eyes falling shut as his warmth spreads through your fingertips, and for a brief moment he grasps your wrist in order to plant a firm kiss to your palm. Then he lets go and cradles you close, pulling you into him until your head is on his chest.

“And I am simply happy that you, and all those loved by me, are safe and happy as well..”

The moments passed swiftly in his arms, the warmth seeping through your bones like warm water through cloth, soaking it up in the comforts of his hold. So dear was the moment that the inescapable parting felt all the worse for it. The cold didn’t seem so bothersome while you were situated alone on the balcony.

The sun climbed higher up the sky, smoothly making its ascend although it felt further away than in any other season, for it failed to chase away the chill even as you walked in the courtyard dressed in several layers. Breaking your fasts that morning with Aragorn was swift, as both of you got pulled apart by your own duties, although duties were more numbered on his end than yours. There was something he was hiding, you could tell by the way his eyes hoped to flee from yours when you stared too long, but you did not know the secret was. So you let him be for now.

Gimli stood underneath the white tree, its branches pebbled with closed buds of flowers that awaited spring through the winter. You could hear his laugh from within the halls of your home, a deep and joyous rumble, and soon you figured out why. Before him the two hobbits, Pippin and Merry, rolled in the snow, trying to push the other one’s face into it. Assuming the end goal was just that, to drown the other in the cold white blanket of nature, Merry was surely on his way to win.

“Good morrow, master Gimli” you called to the dwarf through your chuckling, your gloved hands clutched for warmth.

“Master Gimli?” Gimli scoffed as he turned to look at you, head slightly tilted upward. “Has the distance made us grow into strangers, (Y/n)? Surely not, I’ve hardly been away for that long for ya to forget me” You grin at him, already shaking your head in denial, lifting your hand to wave it in dismissal.

“Of course not! Of course not.. I was simply being polite. I hope you’ll forgive me for that, hm?” you can’t help but smile at him, his eyes shining with that dwarfish mischief entangled with joy, as well as a certain spec of pride only his kind knew how to wear well.

It was hard not to laugh mid-sentence, although the chuckling that fell from between your teeth was already heralding your doom, as Pippin shouted with his mouth full of snow after Merry shoved him into a pile of it. Glancing his way for a moment, his whole face was a mask of pure white, but it soon crumbled away, and he was at Merry again. Both of them laughed - a sweet song in the courtyard, it even rivaled the cold.

“I had hoped to teach these ones a little bit of old dwarfish snow customs, which are few and far between as it is - and yet, they turned it into a completely different game. But I suppose wrestling is not too far off from what I had in mind” Gimli explained, a few snowflakes melting in his beard and mustache.

“Good thing you have plenty of time before the snow melts”. Gimli had shuffled for a moment, reaching inside his intricate and thick layers only to procure his pipe and a handful of green leaves. You wished not to linger on the question of ‘where’ he kept it all.

“Aye. And where is that Aragorn of yours now, stolen off to somewhere without us?”

You look back at the dwarf, noticing the curve of his lips, a teasing coy look lit up his eyes. You sighed and shrugged your shoulders, giving way for silence to linger, knowing of Gimli’s lack of patience for such slow talk and subtle talks. But before he could get impatient enough to burst with another quip of his, you told him Aragorn had gone to oversee the last preparations for the feast tonight. And although you two had shared the load of planning, Aragorn insisted he does this last thing on his own. So you let him. The hardest part of preparations were done and that gave your mind some ease.

After a little more talk you excused yourself on the behalf of your freezing toes, wandering off and back inside to the great halls within the fortress. It felt welcoming, yet no less odd in the most pleasing way, to see more of your old companions within, no doubt seeking the warmth of the great hearth in the dining hall. Boromir sat closest to the fire, Sam beside him and Frodo on the other side of the bench with Legolas keeping stand just a little behind them all, leaned against a pillar and dressed far more lighter than the others. If you could read the thoughts of others, you were sure you’d find a thought that ran along the lines of ‘I wish I had a drop of elf in me to bear the cold better’.

“The Queen!” Samwise Gamgee called in a pleasant surprise of a tone, his eyes lighting up like gems in such ways it made you feel tender, almost unworthy of the praise veiled behind his outburst. The others turned to look, and alike Sam, they all smiled and greeted you warmly.

“Come by the fire, warm yourself” The words were first told by Boromir, who was already rising from his seat to give it to you instead, but you insisted you did not need it. You were on the prowl, you told him, chuckling. “In search of Aragorn, are you?” he followed your line of thought and you nodded, making him scoff and look at the others and then back at you, almost as if sharing a silent thought with them.

“Didn’t lose him, did you?” Sam quipped, with the scarce teasing, yet pure smile of his.

“Oh, no. I hope not, otherwise I’d have no other choice but to call for the Fellowship again..” you mused. “Thankfully, that quest would be far less perilous, although perhaps a little bit dull, compared to what we had gotten used to”.

“Where do you think he’s hiding?” It was Frodo this time that mustered the courage to throw a jest your way, but no later did he try to drown his smile in the large pint of steaming tea only to hiss when he scalded himself, and in turn Sam hissed too for him to be more careful. “It seems I need not say anything, Frodo, the tea scolded you in my stead. Hah, but I think I might find him soon if I keep on searching. He is not the best when it comes to hiding, at least from me..” you told him as you watched Frodo reach for his burnt lips, no doubt he also burnt his tongue but the momentary flash of pain in his features was replaced with gentle mirth. And just like before, you had to excuse yourself, this time on the excuse of being too warm and in need of fresh air. Your heart felt full, knowing so many familiar souls had gathered together again, and you passed several as you passed through the grand halls alone before finally seeing that one face you were looking for.

You found him in the inner courtyard, a far smaller one with a glass ceiling. A green-house. He had it built for you not too long after his coronation, and he had planted many flowers and plants since then, some of which he got from Rivendell or Rohan. Now, amidst the many pots and in the soil underfoot lay several of your own works as well. It was warm here, or perhaps it was you who was too warm at the sight of his gentle tending to the plants. He was lone, his guards not posted anywhere near.

“My King..”

His head turned at the sound of your wistful voice, his eyes reflecting a moment of surprise before a tender smile curved his lips. “My Queen..” It falls from his lips gently like a petal.

“What are you doing?” Inquiring seemed innocently foolish after you glimpsed the flowers in his hands, the sensitive orchid and lilies bouquet tied deftly by a red ribbon and another one in your favorite color. The bows sat slightly lopsided, but they held the flowers together well enough. Perhaps hearing his response would make you feel less like a fool for asking, but fools in love do foolish things, so you couldn’t blame yourself for inquiring, nor him for his secrecy.

“Why, I am only hoping to prepare a good gift for my love” he began, looking back down at the bouquet, the dagger he used for cutting lay on the wooden work table placed in the middle of the green-house. “Once she told me loved these flowers but I failed to give them to her on time as they failed to bloom in my care. And now, as I hold them here, I am asking myself whether she would like them. What say you, my lady?”

There was an attempt to hold your heart from squeezing out of the impact of his affection, but one skip of a heart and your lungs feel devoid of air, and your lips are all but helpless in the fight against a smile. ‘The green-house was always warm, but surely it wasn’t supposed to be this warm, was it?’ Your throat bobbed as you swallowed a word or two involuntarily, something which Aragorn shows his satisfaction in a form of a widening smile and for further measure he lifts the bouquet up for your inspection.

“Have you counted the flowers?” you suddenly ask and you can tell it catches him off guard, his blue eyes flickering from you to each open flower. “..I have” he responded quickly, mid-count. You waited, letting silence grab hold of his cloaked shoulders and every petal of the flowers, your smile slowly widening as you watched the cogs and wheels turning in his mind, only veiled by his eyes. "I have counted them" He looks up at you then, after counting each flower, brows furrowed in one firm question that he dares not voice then.

Silence may have been a vice for him, but it was a challenge for you to not tease him further or begin laughing at the evident uncertainty. You let out a huff of laughter, breaking in through the silence that nearly suffocated his hope for a thoughtful gift.

“You..” he begins and you end up laughing more at the tremble his voice nearly clung on to, edged by gruffness of feigned anger. His feet suddenly carry him in a few swift strides towards you. You can hardly look at him through your squinted eyes, failing to look serious. “My beloved, you will be the end of me one of these days” he softens his words, tempering them until the playfulness forms from his tongue and leaves behind lightheartedness.

“One of these days, no, that’d be too soon. Maybe after you’ve learned to count the flowers, but that day won’t come for a long time yet, I reckon” now at ease and calmer than you were moments prior with giggles in your chest, you tipped your head backwards, only to peer into the learned blue eyes of your king husband. There was not a shadow of arrogance in there, but there was age and a thousand and some stories.

“All your friends are asking about you, where you ran off to” you began after a moment of not one word being uttered. Years had made it so that words seemed like excess in some moments, a lot of them.

“They’re getting a bit impatient.. We should go meet them”

“Aye, yes, we should” Aragorn says and with one hand he seeks yours out, guiding it to take hold of the bouquet, and until you’re securely holding the flowers he does not let go. His hands are warm, calloused, and they leave a lingering feeling before he parts. The separation does not last long for he offers you his elbow, and without any hesitation you loop your arm through his after giving his cheek a kiss.

22 notes · View notes

donteattheappleshook · 17 hours ago

Text

Not Broken at All Chapter 18/?

Summary:

A season 1 Neverland AU. Emma is still trying to adjust to her new life as Sheriff of Storybrooke and mom to Henry, who still believes everyone in town is a fairytale creature. When she finds a badly beaten, one handed man while patrolling, she’s convinced he’s crazy. He is, after all, rambling about fairies and shadows and crocodiles. But when Henry is suddenly taken out the window of a house everyone believes is haunted, the madman in the hospital might be her only hope of getting her son back. Whether he likes it or not.

Rated E

Catch up on Ao3 (where my italics work) or on Tumblr 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Oh hey! What's up everyone?

I know it's been a while (shocking) but it's Solstice today and the muse decided something needed to be posted for this fic in honour of the fairy orgies XD

This was written super fast and not really re-read because it's already 10pm so I'll probably edit it later but I'm giving it to you all now.

Happy Solstice and I hope you enjoy this chapter! <3

********

Part 18

“Doesn’t look so bad,” Will shrugs when they stand outside the mouth of the cave the next morning. Emma and Wendy roll their eyes at the same time. It does look that bad. For a place called Echo Cave she’d had expected something bigger, something louder. But all she can see as they approach is a narrow tunnel in the rockface, no sound escaping from within. So she jumps when Tiger Lily’s voice suddenly comes from within.

“You’re late.”

“Apologies,” Killian nods. “The forest has changed a fair bit since I last made the journey - it took us longer than anticipated to find the path.”

“You have a habit of doing that,” Tiger Lily scoffs. “Misinterpreting time.”

The reply is so quick, and Killian’s sigh so exhausted, that Emma has to hold back a snort of laughter.

“We came as fast as we could.”

“Come then, let’s not delay any further. The others have gathered.”

“Who are the others?” Emma asks Hook quietly as they follow.

“The eldest of those who were here before Pan. They were barely more than children when it happened, but They have some memory of how things were.”

“I thought you said they’d forgotten all their magic.”

“We did not forget,” Tiger Lily snaps from the entrance. Emma watches as the faint, gold dusting of magic that covers their skin, the only light in the otherwise pitch black cave shimmers and slides over their arm, cascading like water down through their fingers that they trail along the rocky wall, leaving flecks of sparking, gold dust in their wake. “It was taken from us. Through slaughter and cruelty. When the children who were left behind grew enough to become a threat to Pan, we were forced to lock away what little we remembered or meet the same fate.”

Every time she thinks it can’t get worse, it does. The massacre of Tiger Lily’s people and the destruction of their history, the torture and killing of the Lorelei, the horror of the murder of those boys on the beach. There’s no end it seems to Pan’s cruelty, to his thirst for blood.

Emma reaches for the shimmering of light that remains along the wall, glittering and moving with the flow of the rough surface. It glows brighter beneath her touch and something swells from deep within her, rushing to meet it, warm and electrifying, before she yanks her hand back and stumbles the rest of the way though.

The walk is long, this cave buried deep in darkness and stardust. She’s not sure she even hears it at first, a small whisper of a voice from far away, the words too quiet to make out, but repeating. As they continue along and a dim light starts to appear in the distance, they grow louder. It’s a child’s voice, rolling against the walls of the cave - wish I’d never come here… just want to go home. Just want to go home. Just want to go home….

She feels Killian’s hand on the small of her back and realizes she’s stopped walking. “It’s alright, love. It’s just an echo. The last secret that was shared here.” She still hesitates, not wanting to get any closer to the haunting voice. “Whoever they were, they’re not here anymore.”

“His name was Ruffio,” Will says, nearly as quiet as the first echo. “He’s been gone a long time.” He only meets her eye for a moment before clearing his throat and continuing as though he hadn’t said anything. She can’t blame him. She knows by now that nobody in Neverland ever goes home. “Come on - we’ve got secrets to spill.”

The light ahead grows until finally they emerge into a massive cavern. The stone that surrounds them black onyx - gleaming faintly against the dust that covers the ceiling like a galaxy above them. The space feels boundless, endless like the darkness could go on forever and she’s reminded of their flight here, of the endless sea of stars they’d sailed in on.

There are four people standing in the center of the chamber on a platform of the same black onyx, all of them with the same sharp, androgynous features as Tiger Lily, all with the same loose-fitting clothes and cropped hair, and all with that same shimmer of living magic glowing faintly in the dark. Tink stands with them, waiting. None of them are any older in appearance than herself, but she knows better by now than to judge age or power by appearance on this island.

The Constant.

They follow the rest of the way to the narrow, stone bridge that connects the ledge to the platform on which the others stand. When Emma takes a step to follow Tiger Lily onto the bridge, Killian puts an arm out, halting her in her tracks. Emma watches, heart in her throat as the bridge crumbles after Tiger Lily, stone falling away behind every step until they reach the end and there’s no bridge at all.

“The Constant keep no secrets,” Killian explains. “The cave can’t compel anything from them. We, on the other hand…”

“Of course they don’t.” No wonder they wanted to use this place. Easy to make others share their deepest darkest secrets when you’ve got none of your own to divulge and nothing to risk. “What about Tink?” she asks, nodding at the fifth person standing with the Constant.

“The fey have wings.”

Right. “So how does this work?”

“From what I remember, you step out onto the edge and call out your secret. If it’s truly your darkest, the cave will echo it back to you.”

“And then we get across?”

“Aye, easy as that,” Killian attempts a smile, but it comes out as a wince. “I’ll go,” he offers though he looks like he’s dreading this as much as she is. She’s just thankful she doesn’t have to start. He lets out another sigh, bracing himself and then, “I kissed Emma.”

Fuck. Her heart drops into her stomach. He’s been a pirate for two hundred years - How the hell can his darkest secret have anything to do with her?

Will smirks. “Kissed? Is that what they’re calling it these days? And I think you’re forgetting that we were all there when she jumped you at Solstice.” His smirk deepens. “And when Emma came back all wet.” If Emma could reach him she’d smack him.

“I literally walked in on you,” Wendy deadpans.

“I’m not talking about Solstice,” he sighs, not rising to the bait. “It was…” She knows when it was. We’ll keep each other safe, they’d promised. She doesn’t need everyone else to know though. Not when she’s not even sure what any of it meant or what it means now. “It doesn’t matter,” Killian shakes his head. “It was what the kiss - what all of it - exposed.” Fuck. fuck. fuck. fuck. “My secret is… I never believed that I’d be capable of letting go of my first love, of my Milah.” He breathes her name like a prayer and a wound. “To believe that I could find someone else.” His eyes lift to hers and it’s only by sheer force of will that she’s able to stop herself from taking a step back, from running away from the way he’s looking at her. Because she needs to hear this. They all do. If she wants to get across this fucking bridge, if she wants to talk to the fucking Constant, if she wants to get her son back - she needs to hear this secret as much as he needs to tell it. “That is, until I met you.”

She doesn’t know what to say or if she’s supposed to say something, can’t bring herself to look at Wendy or Will or look away from his eyes still burning into hers. And then before she even can do anything, Killian’s voice echoes through the cave, ‘until I met you’ called back to them like a ghost. A rumble follows as a section of the fallen bridge rises back from the depths below them, rock by rock, rebuilding itself.

Killian lets out a humourless laugh. “So, who’d like to go next?”

“I will.” Wendy stands with her shoulders straight, like she’s ready for a fight rather than a confession. Emma gets a sinking feeling in her stomach from the way she’s making herself look at Killian, with shame and guilt. He doesn’t look surprised - he looks like he expected this to hurt. “Sometimes… Sometimes I wish you’d never found me. Sometimes I wish you had just kept on walking that day when Pan left me to die.” She winces. “I’ll always be grateful to you for saving my life, for taking me in but…”

Killian nods when she hesitates, her eyes damp with unshed tears. “Go on, it’s alright.”

“You trapped me here, Hook. You’re the reason I have to live in this neverending nightmare. Forever. You knew what that water would do to me and I know you couldn’t ask but… you didn’t give me a choice. And I think that if I had one now - if I could have had a say in the next hundred years of my life… I’d rather you’d just let me die because this -” she gestures at herself, at everything around them. “It’s worse than death. And because of you I’ll never leave.” She lets out a bitter laugh. “I can’t even die if I want to. Not unless Pan decides that’s what he wants. You forced this life on me, Killian, you cursed me to live because it made you feel better and I don’t… I’ll never forgive you for that.”

Tears stain her cheeks now, jaw tight as she refuses to let any more follow and Emma can see the heartbreak on Killian’s face. “Wendy…” but she shakes her head and he stops the step he’d taken towards her.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes and he shakes his head this time. Her secret echoes around them like a taunt this time - ‘never forgive you for that’ - and another piece of the bridge rebuilds itself. The silence hangs between them, louder than any echo, until Will steps up.

“I suppose I should go next - while we’re on the topic of never being forgiven.” He takes his own steadying breath. “I’m dying.”

Wendy’s face falls. “... what?” It comes out cracked and small and frightened. “What do you mean you’re dying?”

The look Will gives her - there’s so much guilt there, so much pain and self-loathing and love. Emma may not know much about it but she can recognize it now in his eyes, in the way he looks at Wendy. “I lied when I told you I didn’t know what Pan did to my heart. I’ve seen him do it before.”

“One hundred years…”

Will nods, a self-deprecating smile falling flat. “I really hoped that I could keep it from you for a little longer. Neverland will slow it down but… he squeezed a hundred years from my heart. I’ll start aging faster - a lot faster - and pretty soon…”

“How long?” He hesitates a beat longer than Emma can handle - and Wendy… gods, she can’t imagine. “How long?”

“I’ll be dead in a few months - three, maybe four depending on how long I would have lived if I’d aged like a normal person but - I’m so sorry, Wen. I didn’t want to tell you, I -”

Whatever he was going to say and whatever she might have answered is stolen by the cave calling back to them in Will’s voice, ‘dead in a few months’. Nobody looks as the bridge puts itself back together, all of them too focused on the cruel revelation. He did it for her, Emma realises, for all of them but… he’s dying because of her. Wendy’s losing him because of her. Even Killian looks solemn at the news.

“Your turn, Emma,” Will chokes out with the palest attempt at levity she’s seen him manage since she met him. “Wouldn’t want to be left out of all the fun, would you?”

She looks out towards the chasm between them and the Constant. She doesn’t even know what she expected to confess, or what she’d hear confessed by those with her, and now, with the truth of Will’s fate hanging in the air, nothing feels like it matters in the grand scheme of things.

What even is her deepest secret? That she gave up Henry? That she had her heart broken by a selfish man who used her and then left her? That she spent a year of her life in jail? That she’s spent her whole life searching for the parents who left her behind? That between Neal and her parents she doesn’t think she could ever trust someone again - could ever let herself love someone again, or let them love her… That she might be anyway? None of it feels like enough; none of it even feels like a secret anymore, not since Henry found her and brought her to Storybrooke.

And then, like bile and sick, she feels something being forced up from her throat, words clawing their way to the surface and past her lips of their own volition. She can’t stop them. She doesn’t even know what she’s going to say until they come spilling out.

“I wish Henry had never come to find me. I wish he’d never brought me to Storybrooke.” The confession leaves her gasping, tears in her eyes as though she had been sick. She wants to be, hearing such a horrible truth being spoken out loud. Killian looks at her with sympathy, but she turns away from it. And once it’s started, she can’t stop it. “I never wanted to be a mother. I gave him away because I knew he’d be better off without me - but also because I knew I’d be better off without him. He’s a beautiful, amazing kid and I love him more than anything… but I never asked for this. Every day since he showed up at my door I’ve been terrified - every minute of every day. Those few minutes in the Fae forest when I couldn’t remember him were the most peaceful I’ve felt in months and when it all came flooding back it just reminded me of how much simpler my life was before I had to be anything to anyone. I don’t want to lose him. But I never wanted to find him either.”

The bridge rebuilds itself, completing the path across as the worst thing she’s ever said, ‘never wanted to find him’, is echoed back to her cruelly. She feels drained, numb, and she wonders if the others are feeling this horrible emptiness too. She looks out at where the Constant wait. If this is their idea of having them prove their allegiance, they better be ready to give theirs in return.

“Come on, Swan,” Killian tells her, leading her across the bridge. None of them say a word, Will and Killian both casting glances at Wendy who won’t look up from her feet, and the silence follows them the whole way across.

“That sounded rough,” Tink comments when they reach the platform, the five Constant talking in harsh whispers in a language she doesn’t recognize.

“How lucky of you to have missed it then,” Will snips. He must be feeling worse than Emma realized.

There’s an argument starting, still in that foreign language, but she can tell just the same. Every few words there’s a glimpse of something that feels familiar, a syllable from another language she’s heard, a word that could be French or Spanish, a glimpse of English, not one language but many - like every language spoken at once.

“This meeting has been a topic of some controversy,” Killian whispers. “But I think Tiger Lily might be on our side.”

“You can understand them?”

He shrugs. “One picks up a few things after two centuries.”

There’s a small scoff from Tink. “Yeah, all that pillow talk was really educational.”

Killian ignores the quip. “They’re the keepers of the last of the forgotten history of the old Neverland.” He nods at each as he names them. “That’s Philodendron, Halcyon, Alder, Jacaranda, and you know Tiger Lily.

“Tiger Lily is one of them?”

“Tiger Lily was the oldest Constant to survive the massacre. They were just shy of a century when Pan took over.”

“A century?”

“The Constant are eternal, love. A century is nothing.”

The Constant have gone silent, a tense, begrudging conclusion to their argument that Emma can feel even if she doesn’t know the words.

Finally, Tiger Lily speaks. “Tinkerbell tells us you wish to unearth the secrets of the island - secrets that were buried to keep us safe.”

“Secrets that could return the island to the way it once was if you ally with us against Pan,” Killian counters.

“If our knowledge could have defeated the boy,” Alder interjects, “we would have done so a millenia ago when he first laid waste to this island.”

“Maybe your knowledge alone couldn’t defeat him, but we have the Lorelei on our side, and the fae,” Wendy adds, gesturing at Tink.

Alder scoffs. “You have one fairy. One who’s been without magic for almost five hundred years, who’s magic was corrupted by the very demon you seek to destroy. Our magic was born from the innocence and dreams of children, the purest light magic there is, and even it was snuffed out by Pan’s darkness. What chance have you with a weakened fairy and the duplicitous sirens?”

“We have more than that,” Tink interjects, bitterness and insult obvious in the bite of her words. “We have her.” It takes Emma a moment to realize that she’s the one being gestured at and now every set of eyes is on her.

“Me?”

“Her?” Wendy frowns.

“You can’t honestly tell me you haven’t noticed. She practically reeks of magic. It’s spilling out of every pore. I clocked it as soon as she got here.”

“I don’t have magic.” The Constant continue to stare, questioning, doubting. “I don’t. Don’t you think if I did I’d have used it by now to get Henry back?”

“Not if you weren’t aware of it, love,” Killian offers gently.

“Okay but I’m not some fairytale character; I’m from Boston - the land without magic. I don’t have any power.”

“Oh for…” Tink swears under her breath, crossing the room and grabbing Emma’s wrist. Faster than she can stop her, the fairy pulls a small blade from the complicated twist of pins and leather that keeps her mass of blonde hair piled on top of her head, ivory handle embellished with gold runes, and slashes it across Emma’s palm.

“Ow! What the hell!” Emma shouts, yanking her hand away. That fucking hurt. Tinkerbelle doesn’t resist, the rest of their small crew moving to intervene, but all at once, they freeze. Emma follows their gazes to her hand, clutched tightly in a fist to her chest and her breath catches. There’s light seeping through the cracks in her fingers, golden and swirling like smoke, shimmering like the magic that flows over the Constant’s skin.

Jacaranda reaches a hand out to her, palm upturned in a request and Emma looks to the others before carefully placing her hand in theirs. Carefully, the Constant unfurls her fingers, examining the light that shines from her wound with a careful touch. Their eyes go wide. “This is our magic,” they say, voice soft and tinged with awe. “Ours and… something else.”

“May I?” Philodendron asks, extending their own hand. Emma nods, even as the urge to refuse shouts at her. You don’t have magic. You’re not magic. You’re a goddamn bail bonds person from Boston, not a fairytale character. Philodendron looks at her after taking a moment to examine the wound themselves. “This is light magic,” they confirm. “It’s raw and untapped but powerful, more powerful than anything I’ve seen since before Pan’s time.” They twist her hand a bit, trying to look closer, to read something in whatever they see that Emma can’t. “But this isn’t born of belief and dreams as ours is, it's the product of something else… of -”

“True love,” Emma breathes out, so low she doesn’t mean for anyone to hear it. Henry had said that hadn’t he? That she was supposed to be the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, that she was supposed to be the Saviour.

“Yes, that’s it,” Philodendron nods slowly. “You were right, Tinkerbelle. This is more powerful magic than we anticipated.”

“Can you use it?” Emma asks, still not believing it really, but if it means they’ll help her get her kid back, she doesn’t care what she has to do.

“That depends,” Halcyon takes a step forward. “Can you wield it?”

“No, I…” she doesn’t even know how this is possible.

“I can.” They all turn to Tink, Emma cradling her hand to her chest once more. “If you tell me what we need to do, I can guide her. But you’ll have to let me.” The last bit is directed at her and she hesitates… Tink hasn’t exactly made a secret of the fact that she’s not a fan of hers, and she just slashed her damn hand open… Trust already isn’t her strong suit to begin with. “I’m not going to steal it,” Tink snaps and looks genuinely offended and Emma remembers that she knows what it is to have her power taken from her.

“I know you won’t. I just… what if it doesn’t work?” How powerful could this magic be? She’s not anything special, she never has been. Why would this be any different?

“Then I guess you don’t get your kid back.”

“Tink,” Killian warns but Emma can’t help but appreciate the fairy’s bluntness.

“What do we need to do?”

“This cavern, ” TigerLily starts, taking a knee and placing a hand reverently on the stone, “used to be a sacred place. It held all of the secrets of Neverland, and the dreams of children who visited - the purest and most honest of truths of all - fueled the island as it did our magic. This was its source - the source of everything.

“But then Pan tainted this cave with his twisted version of secrets as power, as something to be wielded, and forced us to sacrifice the last of the light magic that still breathed life into Neverland, the cavern shielded itself from his darkness. Now it echoes truths rather than accept ones taken maliciously. This place… has seen nothing but darkness for centuries. It has not been sleeping, but fighting, the last of the resistance against Pan right under his nose, keeping the darkness at bay and it has hardened. We need to remind it what the light looks like.”

“It can have mine. Whatever this is. If it can help and if this place can defeat Pan it can have all of it.”

Tiger Lily smiles kindly. “Not all of it. It would never snuff out your light. But even the slightest kindling can spark an inferno and with it you can breathe magic back into the island.”

“How?”

They nod to Tink who retrieves her knife again, slashing her own palm this time, the light that glows from her wound a shimmering green, and holds her hand out to Emma. Heat burns across her skin when she takes Tink’s offered hand, the light between them growing, shining and mixing. Tink places her other hand on Tiger Lily’s shoulder and the Constant flattens both their palms against the stone beneath them. After a moment, they look to Emma and she knows she’s doing it wrong. She’s not doing anything but she’s doing it wrong.

“I’m sorry.”

Tiger Lily shakes their head, their smile not malicious, but understanding.

“I have met so many lost boys and girls on this island. So many broken, hardened children lead here by fear and hurt and neglect, so afraid to trust, to love, to admit or even accept what they want, what they desire more than anything - what has been robbed of them. This place is born of dreams and truths and you, dear Swan, strong Swan, brave Swan… frightened Swan, have locked yourself away from both.”

“But I already told this place my darkest secret.” But she doesn’t need Tiger Lily to tell her - this place echoes darkness, resists darkness. That secret was Pan’s magic - not Neverland’s.

“What do you dream of, Emma? What truths do you keep from yourself?” Emma opens her mouth to speak but Tiger Lily holds up a hand. “Do not tell them to me. Tell them to the lost girl. Unburden her.”

What does she dream of? Things she can’t have, things she’s never had, things that were taken away. She wants to find her parents, that’s no secret though, she’s always known that. She wants them to have never given her up in the first place. She wanted a family, the one she could have had with Henry and Neal if he hadn’t turned out to be the vile person he was, the life that she’d had just a glimpse of after one missed period, before everything went to shit. She doesn’t want that anymore. She hasn’t let herself want any of it since then, not love, not family, not hope…

Her skin begins to warm, something flaring beneath the surface. Liar. She doesn’t know if it’s the cave or herself or her magic but it echoes through her like her secret against the walls. Tiger Lily accused her of locking herself away from her dreams, from her truths, but can they even still be truths if they’ve been silenced and stomped down for decades?

She thinks of the lost girl she was, abandoned, a runaway on the street, burning the last of her childhood, of stupid fairytales and stories to keep warm in a world that was only ever cold. What had that girl wanted? Powerless, lost, alone. That girl who felt like nothing, who meant nothing to anyone, who had never mattered and never would, who had only herself to take care of her. She wanted to matter - to someone, to herself, she wanted people to matter to her, to be able to let them. She didn’t want to be alone anymore. Even as she pushed away every foster parent, every friend, every lover as she grew older, she didn’t want - she doesn’t want - to have to do it alone.

That’s what she dreams of, what she refuses to admit that she dreams of. That for all of her rightly earned distrust of everyone, for all of her caution and her fear of abandonment, of love and hope, she wants to be able to let them in, let them matter. She wants to believe that she could have that happily ever after that she’s scorned all her life.

Images flash in her mind as the heat builds, her body tingling, a faint glimmer of light shining against her shut eyelids. Henry smiling in her doorway in Boston, Mary Margaret offering her a home, Killian bringing her to Neverland, Wendy helping her hide from Pan, Will sacrificing himself for her, Killian nearly sacrificing Milah’s name - sacrificing his memories, all of them banding together to help her save her kid, even Tink now, helping her to wield magic she doesn’t understand.

She’s not alone. She’s not in this alone. For the first time in her life she has people she can count on. People she can trust. She thinks of the smile Henry gave her when she let him know she wasn’t going to leave Storybrooke even though she could, of Mary Margaret’s pep talks, of shared hot chocolate and drinks and advice in their apartment, of Killian in that dank brig after one of the worst hours of her life - perhaps I would - of his words whispered in the quiet darkness of his cabin - I’m here. You don’t have to ask - of his confession echoing around them - until I met you. She does matter to people. She’s not nothing. She was never nothing. She matters and she has people who matter to her.

Her whole body alights, the blood in her veins not blood anymore but something else, something powerful and she can feel it surging beneath her skin, pulled by a force as it rushes through her and towards that opening in her palm. The white of her light overtakes the green and Tink’s body jerks like the surge of magic is as jarring to her as it is for Emma. Tiger Lily gasps, the ground beneath them starting to glow, tendrils of golden light snaking towards them across the stone like rivulets. Their body starts to shimmer, the dusting of gold shining brighter until their skin is swallowed by it completely.

Emma can feel sweat beading on her skin, the salt mixing with the tears she hadn’t realized she’d been crying. She doesn’t know how much longer she can keep this up, the power coursing through her overwhelming. Tink’s hand is shaking in hers, both their palms damp and slippery and white knuckled and she can’t imagine how much more effort the fairy is putting in as the one actually channeling all of this.

“There’s so much,” Tiger Lily says in awe. “We’ve forgotten so much.” Their eyes are glowing with the same gold that covers their skin, their mouth pulling into a smile even as tears roll down their cheeks.

“I can’t -” Tink starts, but doesn’t let Emma release her hand when she tries to stop.

There’s another moment, the light engulfing the Constant almost completely, so bright Emma has to look away, before finally, suddenly, it stops. The three of them slump against the ground with a gasp of exhaustion. Emma doesn’t even turn when she feels hands on her shoulders, helping her to sit up, she knows it’s him. Wendy is at Tink’s side helping to support her as well as the Constant circle around Tiger Lily, all of them holding one another in a moment that feels beautiful and private as joy and heartbreak play over their faces.

“Can you. Stop him?” Tink pants out.

“I… I think so. There’s just - there’s so much. I need time to sort through it all.”

“We don’t. Have. Time.”

“All of the secrets of Neverland, millennia’s worth, have just been poured into my mind. It will take me more than a few minutes to understand it all and find what will help us.”

“How much time?” Emma asks. Henry’s already been here too long - too long without knowing that she’s here, that she’s coming for him.

“I don’t… give me a few nights at least. Come back in three days. That should give me time to make sense of what is needed at least.” Their eyes are far away, like they’re not seeing the cavern around them but something far bigger and far more extraordinary.

Emma nods. “Three days?”

“Three days. And then we’ll rid this island of its false king forever.”

***********

Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from my tag list!

@kmomof4 @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @undercaffinatednightmare @jennjenn615 @dramioneswan @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @batana54 @lfh1226-linda @csalltheway @xsajx @xarandomdreamx @onceratheart18 @ownedbycaptainswan @teamhook @pirateprincessofpizza @lostintheskyfaraway @zaharadessert @thejollyroger-writer @ultraluckycatnd @justanother-unluckysoul @spartanguard @jonesfandomfanatic @deckerstarblanche @jrob64 @klynn-stormz @wefoundloveunderthelight @sailtoafarawayland @tiganasummertree @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @stahlop @superchocovian @snowbellewells @xellewoods @sals86 @karlyfr13s @ouatpost @skairipakomtrikru @lonelyspectator12 @anmylica @alexa-fangirl-forever @inspiredbystardust @marcella2727 @paradiselady19 @koryandr @killiansprincss @goforlaunchcee

#captain swan #cs neverland new year #cs fanfic #captain swan fanfic #cs ff #sorry this took so long again #cs angst #cs smut #ouat season 1 au #neverland au #happy solstice!

19 notes · View notes

herbeloved82 · 2 days ago

Text

Unexpected Gifts

Written with @complicitsacrilege here is a little gift for the first day of the Saturnalia event.

Once again the winter solstice came close, like every year, and like every year Marius was caught by surprise. For creatures like them the flowing of time could be meaningless, and yet, sometimes it became the only thing they could focus on.

With winter the memories also came back, of a time long gone, that only a few people at court remembered. Saturnalia, the days of Saturn, the Old Wandering, heritage of a culture that was already old when Rome rose to power.

A fond smile turned the corners of his mouth, and even if it was normal now to see him happy, it still felt strange to Marius himself to show his emotions so openly.

He, the one who had always been the mentor, the teacher and the anchor, was now learning not to keep his emotions bottled. He had promised his beloved that he wouldn’t hide things from him, and even if it was a work in progress that sometimes Marius failed, he was doing his best to keep his word.

Thinking about his beloved, Marius remembered another tradition that was related to Saturn. Small gifts would be exchanged during the festivities, usually sweets for the youngest and worshiping statues for the adults who would take them to the temple.

He remembered his father and his siblings’ happiness when the holiday approached. The whole house would be in ferment the whole time. The children would jump around, too excited to even sleep, and the adults would work tirelessly to make sure that everything would be ready.

Marius never had children, but he doted on his nephews and nieces, spoiling them with gifts that had his siblings roll his eyes.

They will be insufferable, Marius. He could still hear his older brother’s voice, but even when he was scolding him, the fondness in his voice was unmistakable. Only after he had lost them Marius realized that his brother wasn’t only fond of his own children, but also of that brother so different from them and yet accepted in the family like he had always belonged.

Without wasting time, but still aware of how leaving without an explanation would look, Marius rushed back to their rooms and caught his beloved contemplating his new wardrobe, picking item after item, to match the shades and fabrics.

He kissed Armand’s unruly curls with affection and whispered to him a few words; “I need to leave for a bit, but I will be back before the meeting, so please, try not to kill our prince before I come back.”

The devious angel turned in his arms and looked at Marius, puzzled. “Does that mean I can kill him after you come back?”

“No, you horrible minx. We both know you love him, in your very peculiar way.”

Marius stole another kiss before he moved towards the balcony.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t, and please, wait for me.” He said before disappearing into the night.

***

Marius wasn’t fond of Ireland, for many reasons. The worst thing that happened to him there was to meet Mael, and he still had to recover from that. Traumatized for life by the barbarian drunk he had learned to stand, just for Lestat’s sake.

So no, he wasn’t fond of the land or the people, but he also knew when he needed them, and now he needed a druid and their magic for the gift he had in mind.

“You are a long way from home, Vampire.”

“I am, and yet I’m not, for my dark life began here.”

The old woman who appeared in front of him was dressed in white and had her long, grey hair in a braid softly laying on her right shoulder. She looked ageless and wise, and the wrinkles on her face only added to her charm.

Marius thought he would have loved to paint her, making her immortal on his canvas so that he could always remember her.

“And what are you looking for in the place that saw your rebirth?” She asked and her voice was now softer, like she saw in his soul that he wasn’t a menace to her and her people, but a man looking for guidance and help.

“I seek your help, for a gift.” Marius answered, a trace of amusement in his voice. Oh they could read each other, even without invading each other’s mind.

“For the celebration of a holiday that means nothing to us?”

“But that meant a lot for me, before I was turned.”

“We have something in common, Vampire. We too have old traditions we still follow. They root us to his land and our history, so that we won’t be forgotten.”

She sounded like Hypatia and Sappho. Like Marie Curie and Florence Nightingale. She sounded like every woman who had things to teach, who had fought against society and was defeated, only to be remembered forever by the future generations.

“What is it that you need our help with?” She asked but when Marius took from his pocket a silver blade, like those used to harvest mistletoe she took a step back, alarmed.

“Fear not, for I won’t hurt you. I just need the blade for something else.” Then he proceeded to cut himself, right where his heart laid, protected by his flesh.

She hissed when the blood didn’t stop flowing as it would be supposed to.

“You are ancient. Why aren’t you healing?”

Instead of answering, Marius gave her a ring he kept on a golden chain around his neck. It was old looking, but when her fingers touched the gold, she knew it was an heirloom that had belonged to him when he was human.

“I need your magic to seal my blood to this ring, for my gift…”

“Is one that comes from the heart, for the one you love above everything else.” She finished for him.

***

In their rooms his beloved was pacing like a caged lion. Marius had promised he would be back before the meeting, and yet, he wasn’t there.

He will come back. He told himself, but it was hard to listen to logic when fear clouded his mind. It was easier to retreat back into old habits that helped him to keep his heart protected for so long.

The taste of ashes awoke in his mouth, and he was ready to listen to the voice that told him to leave and never look back, when he heard a thud coming from the balcony, too loud to be Marius, right?

But when he looked, there he was, unsteady on his feet, like he was hurt, and in that moment he forgot everything about running away to rush to his side.

“What happened?” He asked as he grabbed Marius and dragged him into their room. “Are you hurt?”

However, when Marius didn’t answer but smiled, confusion and rage took charge of his actions.

“Why are you smiling,” Armand demanded, his worry turning to a pout almost immediately. “The meeting is beginning and you said you would be back.”

“And here I am, you cruel monster, but would you mind terribly if we skip the meeting, just this once?”

Just as quickly as it had appeared, Armand’s pout disappeared, and he narrowed his eyes, “You know I never mind an excuse to skip council meetings, but tell me, Master, what has happened to you?”

“Nothing really. I just wish to celebrate with you. It is the first day of Saturnalia, after all, and I want to share it with you.”

The court would still be there in a few nights, but this moment Marius wanted it to be just for them.

“I’m aware of the holiday, yes - but what does that have to do with anything? You’ve never wanted to celebrate before.” Armand’s suspicion was clear, even without the mind gift between them, Marius didn’t need it to hear it in his beloved’s tone, yet there was a brightness in his eyes that hadn’t been there for some time.

“There was never time before, my love. But now, no one is after us, and we are free to show each other love. So I thought we could celebrate this year, the world that goes upside down, where the Masters become slaves and the slaves are suddenly Master. Where gifts are exchanged and the old God would look upon the world with a fondness that nowadays is lost, protecting everyone for another year.”

There was a mischievous glint in Armand’s eye, but it was gone as soon as he wrapped his arms around Marius’ waist, moving in close, “Tell me more,” Armand grinned up at Marius, worry seemingly forgotten, “You never did tell me much about the old gods that you never believed in.”

Marius smiled, indulgent. “He was a God who had lost everything. His family cast him away when he became too much, too old, too expendable. He came to Earth to bring gifts of harvest and life. He was the promise of spring after winter, and yet he wandered into cities in winter, dressed in rugs, looking for a warm place to sleep and some food to consume, in exchange of the stories he had learned in his long life.” Marius said, with a gentle voice, without even realizing he had slipped into speaking Latin.

“I never saw him as a God, but as the whole of humanity itself, too old already, and yet waiting to be renewed.”

Armand hummed, pursing his lips for a moment, “That sounds like someone I might know,” his mischievous smile was back as he went up onto tip toe for a kiss.

“Are you calling me old?” Marius blew on Armand’s lips before stealing another kiss. “Then see if I give you the present I picked for you.”

“Well,” Armand started, dropping back down onto flat feet, “maybe not old - not as old as Seth, anyway. And would it help if I told you that I have something for you too?”

Marius looked at him, surprised and intrigued.

“You have something for me, for Saturnalia?”

No one had given him anything since he last saw his family, and he felt his heart grow bigger with all the tenderness he felt for his beloved.

“I might have a little something,” Armand replied slowly, swaying a little on his feet.

“Well, I guess now we’ll have to decide who will give his gift first.” Marius concluded with mirth shining in his eyes.

“You were the one to say you have a gift first,” Armand hinted, trailing a hand up Marius’ back, “Or are you simply gifting me with your presence during the holiday?”

Marius looked at him, pensive, his head on a side. “And wouldn’t that be a gift on its own? My whole attention, for days, with no one else coming between us?”

Armand huffed, “Perhaps that is my gift to you also, Master. I won’t be hunting down any rogue fledglings anytime soon, so you’ll have me all to yourself.” But after a pause, he added, “Very well. If I’m to be your Master for the holiday, then it’s only right that I give my slave his gift first.”

He pressed a kiss to Marius’ collarbone, hesitating for just a moment as a look of mild concern flashed across his expression, but then he was gone, darting away into their coffin room where he had evidently hidden his gift.

He came back seconds later with a large, rectangular object wrapped in fine cloth held carefully in his hands. Armand didn’t meet Marius’ gaze straight away, nor did he offer the gift immediately, but finally, he looked up. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that Marius hadn’t seen since Armand was a boy, and then he was wordlessly holding out the wrapped object.

Marius didn’t have words to express his emotions now. He would be Armand’s slave for as long as he wanted, was it the holidays or more. In many ways Armand had owned him, or at least his heart, since the first day they met, and Marius had never taken it back.

Slowly, as in fear of ruining the moment and shattering the precious balance between them, Marius lowered his head and took the offered gift like he would have taken the most delicate manuscript ever written by human’s hand. That was how much respect he had for the gift that came from Armand.

With attention he slowly showed what was hidden, revealing to the world a beautifully painted ikon that had Marius himself as subject. From the wooden support Marius stared at himself. God to Man, Immortal to Immortal, Saint to Sinner.

Red tears formed in his blue eyes, for the ikon spoke to his heart and he never saw anything more beautiful than the proof that Armand was taking back one of his passions, taken from him by human cruelty first, and blind fanaticism after.

“This - this is beautiful, my love.” He said as emotions choked him and his voice sounded shaking and weaker than it ever was.

Armand’s expression showed open vulnerability now, and even he had the beginnings of tears staining the whites of his eyes pink. “I painted it while you were gone. I –” he stopped, seemingly unable to continue, but then, “I had hoped it would bring you home.”

“I will always come back to you, wherever I am, my love, I will always come back to you. This is my vow, spoken under Saturn’s all knowing eyes. A promise I will keep until my last day on the Earth.” Marius said, his tears free to fall.

Both vulnerable, both hurt and trusting, it was the first time that they had been this close. Not even before they had crossed this line, and now even more, the choice Marius made felt right.

“As you humble servant, let me give you my gift, my Lord, my Beloved.”

Without hesitation, he took the ring that still felt warm in his hand, for the magic that was used would always maintain the love Marius felt for Armand, burning like the fire that celebrated the Gods all over the world.

His hand shook when he presented the ring to Armand, waiting for his reaction.

When Armand took the ring, his expression was almost unreadable, but as he ran his thumb over the ruby studded gold, his brows drew together and he examined it more closely. “It’s beautiful, Master… but is this,” he paused, bringing the ring to his nose. “Is this your blood,” he asked, turning his attention back to Marius.

“From the heart that was always yours, and that will be yours until you decide otherwise.”

At the risk of the painting, Armand stepped closer, hugging Marius tightly enough to crush any human, and he could feel one of his hands shift at his back as he slipped the ring onto one of his fingers. “Thank you, Master. Thank you for coming back to me.”

Red stains appeared on Marius’ shirt under Armand’s cheek, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He had Armand back in his arms, where he belonged all along, what more was there to want?

#saturnalia event #de romanus coven #marius/arman #marius de romanus #Armand #de romanus coven event

15 notes · View notes