#cs fic gift

[imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese]

In Titan Arcology, Spike Fruit Eats You

A @d2artevents Dawning gift for @scruffynerfherder17 featuring her OC Cloud!

"Hey, uh, I might be looking for someone to watch my back one of these days. To bring some major heat to a gunfight. You for hire?"

The Drifter hires Cloud to assist him in a top secret fruity extraction.

Link to Ao3 if you prefer to read it there

"Hey hey!" the Drifter's coin made a loud 'ding' as he bounced it off the floor and caught it. "Cloud, right?"

"Yes," the purple-eyed Exo answered, folding his arms. The Drifter was clearly not who he was expecting to be meeting in the warehouse he'd been sent to.

"Little sister Eido told me her little sister Whisp said that you were lookin' for work. I got an easy one for ya, if you have the time. Sketchy area, but it should be one-and-done without too much fuss. You in?"

Cloud sighed. Everything in him told him to walk away. The Drifter was not known for his charity. But, then again, Cloud knew from Wisp's experiences that the scruffy man was sometimes weirdly charitable. And one thing he was known for was paying well.

"Let me guess." Cloud asked. "You want me to steal something?"

The Drifter laughed. "Nah. This is all above board."

"Riiiight." Nothing about the Drifter was ever above board.

"Totally legit. Sloane gave me a permit. But, it is in the Arcology on Titan. So, while I got a route planned out, it could get dicey. Arcology's never been the safest place, even before Xivu Arath filled it up with Wrathborn and Taken. Hence why I want some extra heat along with me, just in case."

"You're going yourself? Why not ask the Vanguard for help, officially, if this is so legitimate?"

"This is what you'd call a personal matter. It ain't exactly the sort of thing the Vanguard would prioritize, and I do want this kept quiet and not spread around, so there's extra glimmer in it for your… what's those words she likes so much? Tact? Discretion? Somethin' like that. Silence, basically."

The Drifter leaned against a shipping crate. A sunbeam shone through a cracked window in the wall beside them, glinting against his tumbling coin as he continued. "You help me get my thing and keep your mouth shut, and you can have your pick of my gear and a very, very healthy pile of glimmer. If not, I'll find someone else, but you're A, one of my regulars and B, anyone little sister recommends gets my attention. Plus Eris says you're solid and Crabcakes thinks the world of you."

Cloud's eyes flashed at the Drifter's irreverent nickname for Eido but it was one Eido herself said she did not mind, even when it had been explained to her.

"Ya know," he added. "She tried to get me to let your kid to come along, but the whole point in bringin' you is in case we do get shot at. So I said thanks, but no thanks. Kids stay home on this one."

Cloud's eyes narrowed. "Good," he growled.

The Drifter had turned down Whisp's help. Was he claiming he'd done Cloud a favour? Or was it a threat to accept Whisp's help if he declined?

Drifter nodded at Cloud with a toothy smile.

Winters appeared at Cloud's shoulder. The ghost clicked his flaps in agitation and flew between the two Lightbearers. "What's on Titan that the Vanguard doesn't care about but you do?"

Drifter licked his lips and bounced his coin off of a nearby crate, the floor, another crate, and caught it. "First you tell me whether or not you're in," he addressed the ghost. Then he turned to look back at Cloud. "Once you're in, I'll tell ya what we're after."

At that, the Drifter reached down to the floor behind the crate he was leaning against. Cloud tensed and then relaxed as the rogue Lightbearer plunked a metal box on the table and, with a flick of his wrist, flipped the lid open.

More glittering cubes of glimmer glinted in the sunlight back at Cloud than he'd amassed in several months of work for the Vanguard.

Winters hovered over the box, looking at the gleaming cubes, widened his shell a bit, and looked back at Cloud.

"Money doesn't fix everything," the Drifter continued. "But it sure can solve a lot of problems. I want this quick and quiet and, hopefully, undetected. But, if we are detected, I like breathin' brother, so you're my backup in the very small chance this simple expedition goes completely whackadoo."

It was a lot of glimmer.

Cloud shifted, unfolding his arms. "You're expecting trouble."

"I told you where we're goin'."

"This doesn't seem like you," Cloud countered, trying to find the catch.

"Yeah, well, people change and… I uh… may have promised someone I'd be a bit more careful goin' forward," the Drifter rolled his eyes at the word "careful."

"Specially when it is all above board like this and there's no need to make sure there's no witnesses," the Gambit announcer continued with a wink. "Plus, I ain't hurtin' for glimmer and you got people that need lookin' after. Heard someone may have let their mouth run off and now you might not have access to the work you're used to. Not my business, but if you're willin' to keep your mouth shut and guard my back, I'm happy to make sure you get paid, and I do value my back pretty highly. I've seen how good you are in Gambit, I know you'll do fine. So… are you in on this with me or not?"

Winters turned and looked back at his guardian, waiting to see what Cloud would say.

It was a lot of glimmer. He didn't trust the Drifter, but at the same time, that much glimmer would genuinely help.

"Fine," the purple-eyed Exo said. "I'm in."

"All right, all right, all right." The Drifter pulled out a data pad and began tapping on it. A schematic projected out into the air between them. Blue-green lines glowed in a 3D map of the Arcology.

"I want a plant," the Drifter began. "A specific plant. I want seeds. I want two whole plants with their roots (and I'll be honest with ya brother, I'm not sure that one's possible but there's extra pay if do we pull that off). And, most importantly, I need at least one whole fruit."

"A fruit?" Winters asked, his shell spinning slowly. "You're paying this much for a fruit?"

"Yeah," the Drifter grinned at the incredulous ghost.

"What fruit?" Cloud asked.

The Drifter's eyes glittered. "A pine apple."

'What the hell is a pineapple?" Cloud stepped forward to get a closer look at the Drifter's Arcology schematic. It was very accurate.

"I'll be honest with ya, brother, I have no idea, but we're gonna find out."

Winters and Cloud looked at each other briefly before returning to examine the projection.

"Sloane ain't got no pictures but, before everything went to hell in the collapse, the Arcology greenhouses were exceptionally well labeled and some of those records survived," the Drifter explained. "They're just… not the ones that tell us what the hell these plants look like. But I do know exactly where they are." He pointed to a spot on the projection that had a small green dot.

"How do you know they're not destroyed?" Winters asked, floating to examine the projection at a different angle.

"Because someone, at some point, got some seeds for one and brought 'em to Eris on Io not too long ago. An' that was just a little bit before Io disappeared. They're there in the Arcology all right. It's just a matter of gettin' in to get 'em."

"Ok," Cloud said quietly, memorizing the route the Drifter had mapped out.

"Oh and another thing. We already talked about you not talkin', but add in an extra special layer of not talkin' about this to ol' Three-Eyes. Don't wanna ruin the surprise."

"Surprise?" Cloud asked. "What are you going to do with it?"

"Don't you worry about that, brother. Just get me my fruit and I'll make you rich. Now, Sloane ain't been able to get a patrol to run through there for quite some time, and Thunderguns will appreciate any intel we can get her while we're in there. You feel free to give that to her when we're done an' she'll probably pay you for it too, just leave out what we're after."

The glow from Cloud's purple eyes narrowed. "I thought you said she gave you a permit."

"She did. This uh.. just ain't exactly what the permit is for."

Cloud shook his head. "I'm not crossing Sloane."

"There is no crossing anyone here. This is totally legit. We got permission for a bit of salvage just like I used to do. It's just that… unlike my usual, the Golden Age tech we're salvagin' this time is of the… biological kind."

"This is too much money for just a fruit." Winters countered.

"Damn straight," the Drifter answered. "That's cuz this is for fruit and silence and watchin' my back. And it's a very special fruit. Most people ain't heard of it. Almost mythical. But it ain't. It exists. And ol'Drifter's gonna get some."

"You have some sort of fruit obsessed buyer?" Cloud asked.

"Nope. Personal use," the Drifter grinned and licked his lips as though he were holding back laughter at a joke only he knew the punchline to.

"Never thought you'd be the type of person to overpay for fruit." Cloud said quietly.

"And you should stop thinkin' about it, because once this is over you're bein paid to forget you ever heard of it, am I right?"

Cloud nodded. "Ok, I guess."

"Now, we're goin' in here," the Drifter pointed at the map. "I'll get us there without bein' noticed, that's not a problem. Transmat in will be one-way. I got the Derelict zoned in on a transmat beacon we'll carry with us and set up. We get back to that spot and activate it when we want out."

"Why not take the beacon with us and just leave when we find what we're looking for?" Cloud asked.

"That would be so much easier, you're right, but there's too much stuff in the way. Can't get a signal in there. I tried. If I could set us down inside the room we need to get to, I wouldn't need you, hotshot. This is as close as we can get."

Cloud nodded in understanding.

"We'll leave the beacon at the drop point," Drifter continued. "Then we'll need to make our way through these three sections. First one is a big open area but it'd be hard to fill that with hostiles without bein' obvious and the remote scans I could get look pretty clean. Should be pretty quiet. This middle area is where it might get a bit dicey. A while back, there was a lot of Savathun's Hive camped out there, but ever since she got all glowy with the Light her brood either joined her or were left on their own to do… whatever the hell Hive do in that situation. I don't know genocidal space bug politics. Chances are they ain't there no more, but if they aint, somethin' else might've moved in."

…

Something else had indeed moved in.

Cloud and the Drifter both crouched together behind a large stone and metal reinforced wall in the Arcology as a Taken Ogre's Rotten Surge repeatedly hit the other side.

"Can you control it like the ones in Gambit?" Cloud asked.

"Nope!" the Drifter said cheerily as he reloaded his hand cannon, Trust.

Cloud's head turned to the side and he shot a Taken Thrall over the Drifter's shoulder.

The rogue Lightbearer grinned at him. "I knew bringin' you was a good idea."

Cloud nodded and shot another Thrall.

"Ok here's how this is gonna go," the Drifter said, peeking out from behind the wall and ducking back as the Rotten Surge hit the barrier again. "I'm gonna skitter around back behind it, and you're gonna keep its attention over here."

"You need me to be bait," Cloud said, dryly.

"You catch on quick." The Drifter's eyes glittered with amusement.

Cloud sighed deeply and checked around his side of the wall, ducking back before the Ogre's eye beam could rip him apart with Arc energy.

"This thing's big enough to be a Primeval in Gambit," the Drifter continued, "but I've seen you take those down, no issue."

"Gambit has four players." Cloud retorted.

"Treat it like when two people drop." The Drifter clasped Cloud's shoulder briefly and winked at him before tumbling to the side, coming to his feet and running between different bits of cover.

Cloud sighed again and brought his Dead Man's Tale scout rifle up, sniping several precision shots at the Ogre. It immediately retrained its eye on him and began blasting the wall Cloud ducked behind once more.

Sniping and ducking, Cloud kept the Ogre's attention and watched as the Drifter skillfully tumbled and skittered between bits of cover until he was nearly behind the Taken monstrosity.

Then there was a Taken Knight. The Drifter's hand cannon barked four times and the Knight went down. Cloud watched between shots to keep the Ogre focused on him as the Drifter tumbled to avoid another Taken Knight, shooting as he rolled. A third Taken Knight sliced down with its sword, leaving a huge gouge in the metal flooring where the Drifter had just been standing. The rogue Lightbearer stumbled when the wave of fire coming from the third Knight's eye caught him.

Cloud frowned as the Drifter tripped and disappeared from view. He frowned even more as he saw a small horde of Thralls running to where the Drifter had last been standing.

"Dammit, Drifter." Cloud whispered, slinging his scout rifle over his shoulder and pulling out Planck's Stride, his finger already depressing the trigger so the gun began firing as soon as the muzzle was level with the ground.

On the other side of the Ogre, the Knight that had been attacking the Drifter began to dance with Void-infused bullets.

Cloud calmly tipped the muzzle to the side to pump several rounds into the Ogre, knocking it back and stunning it briefly, before returning to gun down yet another Knight on the other side of the enclosure.

The volume of Thralls now swarming where he'd last seen the Drifter was now beyond concerning. Then, just as Cloud was trying to decide if he could take a few blasts from the Ogre to clear out some of the Thralls, there was a loud clear 'Ding!' and a fireball erupted from the middle of the mess of Thralls.

Cloud ducked back behind the wall in time to avoid the Rotten Surge from the Ogre as another 'Ding!' rang out, erupting in another large Solar grenade.

Cloud stepped out from behind the wall to witness the results of the third 'Ding!' - a Stasis Glacier grenade this time. It was followed up by another Solar grenade, shattering everything embedded in it.

Unfortunately, the fireworks behind the Ogre were now too impressive to ignore and it turned, firing its powerful Arc beam toward where the grenades were going off.

Seeing his opening, Cloud stepped out from behind the wall, jumped up into the air with a spin and let loose multiple flaming knives first from one hand and then the other.

The Solar Blade Barrage ripped into the Ogre's exposed back. Yellow-orange flames fluttered across and then consumed the inky blackness of the Taken's essence in purifying incandescent light, burning it to ash.

The monster's eye stopped firing. It sunk to its knees with a final roar and fell forward motionless just before it completely dissolved.

Cloud hit the ground running and once he'd reached the other side he skidded to a stop where he'd last seen the Drifter. The ground and walls were covered in scorched patches with lingering flames flickering from them. Shards of shattered and dissipating Stasis crunched under his feet. The Drifter was nowhere to be seen.

A single Thrall jumped up and ran at him. Cloud drew and fired Moon River, his hand cannon, lightning quick. The Thrall went down and dissipated near-instantly.

Above him, Cloud heard the rusty groan of metal being forced to do something it did not want to do.

The Exo Guardian tumbled to the side and kept Moon River ready. A large and rusted grating overtop of an equally large and rusting pipe flipped down and the Drifter slid out gracelessly with a stumble as he came to his feet.

Winters materialized and scanned the rogue Lightbearer.

"You were… hiding?" the ghost asked him.

"Yup," he coughed, his coat covered in ashes and grime. "That went sour right quick," he said dryly. "But you turned it around." He pointed at Cloud with a smile. "I knew I could count on you." He stumbled again, propping himself up against a wall to cough a few times while blinking.

"How bad are you hurt?" Cloud asked.

"I've been worse," the Drifter smirked.

"Should we go back?" Winters asked.

"Oh hell no. I didn't just get lit on fire to go back empty handed," the Drifter waved off the concerned ghost. "Drifter wants his fruit!"

"There's seriously nowhere else you could get it?" Cloud asked as the Lightbearer walked past.

"Nope," the Drifter said, continuing forward. "They're extinct. Except here. Gonna make 'em un-extinct if I can. First on the Derelict and then maybe we can stick some of 'em earthside somewhere, leave 'em to grow on their own."

"Why do you care so much about a fruit if you don't even know what it looks like?" Cloud followed behind him.

"What can I say? I like old things. Ol' Drifter's a conservationist at heart."

"Right," Cloud said, entirely unconvinced.

The Drifter stumbled again and caught himself as he started coughing once more.

"Should you get your ghost to heal that?" Cloud asked.

"Nope."

Winters disappeared and then spoke quietly on a private channel directly to Cloud.

"His ghost isn't here."

"What?" Cloud asked under his breath.

"His ghost isn't here. I don't feel it at all."

Cloud let the Drifter get a bit farther ahead while continuing to scan their surroundings for hostiles.

"It's probably just cloaked or something," Cloud whispered. "Drifter's pretty shifty. It'd make sense for his ghost to be shifty too. Where else would it be?"

"I don't know but… what he's doing is very dangerous. Be careful."

Cloud nodded and caught back up to the Drifter who was standing in front of a closed and very secure-looking blast door.

"Alright, alright, alright. Should be just through these doors here. Stay sharp, brother."

…

The Drifter declined Winters' help hacking the security on the door, preferring to hotwire it by hand, but his hotwiring was successful and relatively quick.

Cloud and Winters looked at each other. The Exo shrugged his shoulders and the ghost shrugged his flaps before disappearing again.

Once through the door it was as though they had stepped into a different world. The large automated greenhouse, for that is what it was, was warm, humid, and very overgrown.

Vines dangled everywhere and foliage was bursting from what had once been well maintained gardens with walkways between them. In one corner, water gushed from a ruptured pipe, forming an unnatural waterfall.

The Drifter grinned as he closed the door behind them. "Well would you look at that. Ain't this a tiny section of unmitigated paradise?"

"How is it still running?" Cloud asked.

"Golden Age tech," the Drifter replied. "Sometimes it just works… and keeps workin'."

The Drifter pulled out a data pad and started tapping on it, trying to interface with a computer terminal. "Nope. Maintenance is still maintenance-ing but the higher level systems are all dead. Should be physically labeled though. Time for a scavenger hunt."

Cloud sent Winters for a flyby aerial scan as the Drifter walked along what had once been a path. It was now overgrown with tree roots and vines.

A few steps in, the rogue Lightbearer crouched down and called back to Cloud. "See this?" he said, lifting up a large leaf.

Below the leaf was a small sign. Rusted metal held up engraved glass. The Drifter slid his hand between vines and picked up a handful of dirt, then he rubbed it along the glass. The engraved lettering filled with dirt, and was suddenly legible despite the electronic aspects of the sign no longer functioning.

"Built to last," the Drifter pronounced. "I like it. Lychee sure is a weird name for a tree, though. I wonder if the fruits are the red spiky things. Well… while we're here we might as well…" He stepped in and reached up, grabbing a small red spiky protrusion. It made a wet sound as it came off the branch.

"We're lookin' for either pine apple or an-an-ass," the Drifter continued. "Don't ask me why they call it that. I have no idea. Golden Age humanity had wild names for things."

"Ass fruit." Cloud said. "You've got us here looking for ass fruit."

"I guess," the Drifter answered as he cracked open the red spiky nodule in his hand and raised an eyebrow at white flesh inside before taking a small bite.

"Oh… this is real nice. Try this." He reached up and plucked another from the tree, tossing it over to Cloud.

Cloud stared at it for a moment, questioning his decision making skills if he was seriously considering consuming strange fruit from a location likely undisturbed for centuries, handed to him by the Drifter of all people, but curiosity overcame his reluctance and he broke open the fragile shell and took a small nibble of the inside.

"Huh. It really is good. Sweet."

"Yeah, but it's a nice sweet," the Drifter said. He had wandered much farther away into a different section of the garden.

"Yes," Cloud agreed, moving in a different direction, looking for more of the small signs the Drifter had uncovered.

"Bet that thing in the middle is the seed," the rogue Lightbearer's voice floated up from some overgrowth. "Gonna keep that. Maybe I can get it to grow."

Cloud looked at the remains of his fruit and quietly put the seed into his pocket.

The Drifter's laugh floated over the foliage and a second small spiky red fruit sailed through the air toward Cloud. He caught it easily.

"If you're gonna try growin' it too, most fruit needs two so the flowers can have uh.. happy fun sexy times."

Cloud nodded and ate the second delicious tiny fruit. He had only just finished when he heard Drifter's gravelly voice from a different point farther ahead.

"Dragon fruit? I ain't goin' anywhere near nothing called a dragon fruit. Give that one a wide berth, hero. And don't think any wishful thoughts, just in case it's listenin'."

Cloud grunted in agreement and began searching in the opposite direction.

The air was muggy and thick. Each step Cloud took was accompanied by a squelching sound as muck and vegetation crumpled underfoot. It was uncomfortable and unsettling, but also beautiful.

After rubbing dirt on a fourth sign, Cloud called out, "Drifter!"

"Yeah?"

"I think I found it."

"Nice." The sound of leaves swishing accompanied the Drifter making his way closer.

Streaked with dirt, the small glass sign read: "ananas comosus, pineapple."

"Pineapple is one word, apparently," Cloud said.

"One word? That's clearly two words to me, brother. Pine and apple. The fact that they just up and stuck two words together and made a new one is whacked. Language sure is weird. This is why I stick to math," the Drifter muttered.

Winters had returned and was now scanning the plants.

"That is one ugly fruit," the Drifter pronounced, leaning forward and touching some of the long spiky leaves. "Lookit that. That's the most Hive-lookin' vegetation I ever seen, and I been in Savathun's Throne World. That's more Hivey than the purple Hive cabbage. All spikey and vicious. No wonder she likes it."

"Who's she?" Winters asked.

The Drifter looked up at the drone from where he was crouched. "What?"

"You said no wonder she likes it," Cloud explained. "Who's she?"

The Drifter's eyes narrowed. "Remember that thing we talked about? About not talkin' about what we're talkin' about?"

Cloud sighed. "Yes."

"Lets not talk about that."

Winters slowly rolled his shell as the Drifter reached out two hands and twisted the ugly spiky fruit, ripping it off from the middle of the plant's central stem. It almost looked like an exploding grenade.

"That doesn't look very edible," Cloud said, watching him.

"Neither did the lychee," the Drifter countered. "Lots of plants where the Earth was hot needed to defend themselves. But, if I'm right, then maybe under these spikes…"

He wriggled his fingers and suddenly there was a knife in his hand, seemly pulled from the air. Even in the middle of a swampy greenhouse with only one other person for an audience, that he was paying to be there, the Drifter was still doing sleight-of-hand.

The knife blade cut deep into the fruit and the Drifter pulled out a wedge. The outside spikes gave way to bright yellow flesh. The Drifter smelled it and then nibbled it. "Oh yeah. Yeah this is it. Taste that." He tossed the strange fruit wedge to Cloud.

Cloud held it out for Winters to scan before taking a small bite. "It's sweet," he said. "And very acidic."

"Cloud," Winters interrupted. "Spectral analysis shows that plant has an enzyme that's able to partially dissolve human flesh. It's a weak enzyme and cannot do any damage to your Exo body but… it's almost like it's… attempting to eat you…"

The Drifter looked up with a wide grin. "A plant that eats ya back? Damn! That is …so her."

Both Cloud and Winters stared at him. The Drifter shook his head as he returned his gaze to the plant, clearly admiring it. "Like it's gettin' vengeance," he said under his breath before turning back to them. "Keep watch, hotshot. I gotta get dirty over here, an' I do love gettin' dirty, but just you make sure nothin' takes us out while I do."

Cloud kept Dead Man's Tale ready as the Drifter pulled out a folding shovel from seemingly nowhere, unfolded it, and started to dig.

Half an hour later, two plants with roots wrapped in cloth, four spiky pineapple fruit, and two long tentacle-like spikes lay on the ground at their feet.

"I'm not seeing any seeds," Winter said, hovering above one of the remaining plants and scanning it again.

"Not sure this thing has seeds," the Drifter replied, carefully examining his handiwork. "I think these," He pointed to the long green spikes he'd set aside, "…are as close as we get. An' I'm pretty sure this weird spiky pineapple fruit is actually a flower. Such an evil lookin' thing. Angry. Like it's gonna stab things. It's perfect." He licked his lips with a wide grin, clearly delighted at what they had secured.

"Anywhoo," the Drifter stood up, folding his shovel back into its compact form. "Get your ghost to transmat these away for now and I'll get 'em back from you once we get out."

"Why can't you get your ghost to-"

A distant but very loud crash echoed through the Arcology. Both Lightbearers trained their weapons on the door.

"That sounds big," the Drifter said. "Finish this fast, yeah?"

Cloud nodded and Winters began to transmat away what the Drifter had set aside to his internal storage.

Once they were back through the door, the Drifter crouched down and began fiddling with the wires he'd twisted together to hotwire it open. Cloud stood next to him, his weapon ready. Another loud impact filled their ears. They felt it through the floor this time.

"What are you doing?" Cloud whispered.

"I wanna come back here," the Drifter explained. "Dont' want nothin' gettin' in there and messin with anything else. That's a living museum in there."

"You really are a conservationist."

The Drifter gave him a small smile, different from his usual practiced grin. "Most smugglers are," he said quietly. Sparks spat out from the wires in his fingers and another layer of the blast doors closed. "Got it. Alright let's get goin'."

…

Cloud and the Drifter peeked cautiously across the last area they needed to get through before they were at their transmat beacon. It had been empty on their way in. Now it was crawling with Wrathborn.

"That's a lot," Cloud said quietly.

"Damn. All green and misty. Was hoping not to be shootin' space lobster today, since you got family that's them. I'm sorry."

"Those ones haven't been Eliksni for a while," Winters said quietly next to Cloud's ear.

"You gonna be up for this?" the Drifter asked. "These ones ain't friends. Hard not to see friends when ya fight 'em though."

"We don't have much choice, and we're just trying to get through." Cloud answered. "There's a lot of them though."

"Yup," the Drifter pointed up above their heads to a long beam that ran down the middle near the top of the vaulted ceiling. "Shortcut along the roof through the rafters, but it's very exposed. Once they look up, they're gonna notice. How do you feel about balancing on thin ledges while dodging gunfire and avoiding a long drop, with certain death below, all the while at a dead run, brother?"

"Sounds like Tuesday," Cloud said, wryly.

"Haha! I like your style, kid. Let's dance!"

It was more of a pipe than a beam. Its curved surface had cross-bars bolted to it periodically, providing structural integrity to the roof above. Cloud and the Drifter scurried lightly along, working hard to avoid making noise and stay unnoticed.

They got almost halfway across before an Arc-charged Wrathborn Captain below them screamed and started sending Arc bolts flying up at them.

"Knew that was too good to last," the Drifter muttered and began to run faster.

A Befouler Wrathborn Heavy Shank rose up to the same height in the ceiling as they were, guns pointed at both of them, with eight smaller shanks clustered around it. All began firing.

The Drifter picked off four of the smaller Shanks without breaking stride before reloading and ducking behind a metal joist to avoid being hit.

Cloud took a running leap and landed on top of the large Heavy Shank. He dodged, jumping back off off it and landing next to the Drifter just in time for the Shank to become incandescent with Solar light. He followed up with two shots from his hand cannon and the Shank exploded and fell apart, raining twisted metal and fire onto the hostiles below.

"Hahaha! You're amazing, brother!" the Drifter laughed as he continued running ahead.

Below them, a Wrathborn Brig fired its missile launcher, hitting the pipe under the Drifter's feet. He jumped out of the way but the area where he landed collapsed as well.

Cloud jumped, slamming into the Drifter and clothes-lining him mid-air. The Drifter practically folded in half around Cloud's arms and the Hunter's momentum took them both through the air across the ceiling and down to land on a catwalk half-way up the walls.

The Drifter rolled out from under Cloud and came to his knees gasping for breath and coughing. "Woo!" he said between coughs. "Glad you're on my side." Cloud stood and held out a hand. The Drifter grabbed it and came to his feet with a grin. His eyes flicked to the side and, asp-quick, he began firing Trust from his hip into the Wrathborn Servitor which had teleported behind Cloud.

Cloud jumped up, placing one leg and then the other into a wall-run up and around the Drifter, away from the Servitor.

The spherical Servitor's central eye began to charge with Void energy. The Drifter kept firing directly into the middle of it. His shots were precise but it was a very large Servitor and the eye kept charging. Just before it could fire, a Solar Scatter grenade landed directly on top of it. The Servitor burst into flames and fell.

The two Lightbearers nodded to each other and continued running along the catwalk, dodging and shooting.

They jumped down from the catwalk near the other end of the long open area, still running and gunning. Cloud let loose a Blade Barrage, clearing the path ahead of them of hostiles, and the Drifter slid down on his knees in front of the crate where he'd hidden the transmat beacon. He ripped the top off and began rapidly assembling the device.

Cloud stayed on his feet and continued shooting. He'd switched to Plank's Stride and was now mowing down anything coming toward them.

"How much longer?" he called back to the Drifter.

"Workin' on it! Almost there!" the Drifter yelled back while rapidly snapping metal pieces together.

"Can you go any faster?" Cloud asked as his machine gun ran out of ammunition. He pulled out Nezerac's Whisper and began using the glaive's shield to deflect incoming fire from himself and the Drifter behind him while shooting the occasional Arc bolt at the oncoming Wrathborn.

"Nope!" the Drifter said cheerily.

The ground below them both began to glow in a bright red-orange circle.

"Drifter!" Cloud shouted.

An armoured gloved hand grabbed Cloud's shoulder and the Drifter yelled "Transmat firing!"

The transmat rippled and they both disappeared just before the incoming Solar Spitfire barrage annihilated everything in the area they'd just been standing.

…

Both men staggered, breathing heavily and stumbling as they materialized in the Gambit ready room on the Derelict.

"Woo-eee! That was close!" the Drifter said excitedly before he was overtaken with a coughing fit.

Cloud walked over to a set of metal steps and sat down.

Winters appeared at his shoulder.

"That was more than close. That was ridiculous. You almost got us all killed for your stupid fruit!" the tiny ghost shivered in anger.

"Yeah, but we lived." The Drifter winked at the upset drone and walked over to a nearby shipping crate.

He slapped the top of the large box and said "Now, give Drifter his pineapples."

Winters looked back at Cloud. Cloud nodded. Winters made a noise that could only be interpreted as a sigh and transmatted the fruit, plants and stem spikes onto the top of the crate.

The Drifter picked up one of the fruits and smelled it with a wide grin. "Mmm-mmm. This is gonna be great. But first, you gotta get paid."

He took two steps back and reached into a different open crate, pulling out the box he'd shown them earlier and adding a second, smaller metal box on top of it. Both clinked loudly.

Cloud stood up from the steps and approached the boxes.

"That's the first part," Drifter said. "Get your ghost to count it if you like, but listen, brother. That was more than either of us bargained for and you saved Drifter's ass not once but three separate times. Don't think I didn't notice. Get your ghost to send me a full loadout of any of my gear and I'll leave it for you in the post box but also…"

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a jade coin. He flicked it and it ignited in his fingers. He tossed it across the crate to Cloud.

The flame went out as it tumbled through the air and Cloud caught the coin. He looked at it in his hand and flipped it over. Both sides had the Drifter's jade Gambit snakes now very blackened and charred from Solar fire.

"That's a favour," the Drifter leaned on the crate and coughed before he continued. "Hold on to that. Call it in when you need it. I owe you one."

Winter hovered over the boxes on the crate. "Cloud, this is more glimmer than we agreed to."

"We got the whole plants intact, and you kept me alive. I told ya I value my own ass highly. You're a class act, brother." The Drifter gave him a small two-fingered salut. "Thanks."

…

The next day Cloud stood in line at the post office. Kadi 55-30 turned away at the counter and then turned back with a box wrapped in Gambit green with the Drifter's snakes embossed on the outside. "Package for Cloud." Kadi said. "Happy Dawning."

Cloud stepped to the side and opened the box. Inside were several engrams and another smaller box.

"All there?" he asked Winters.

"All there, but also something else," Winters answered. "A box of… cookies?"

Cloud pulled out the smaller box and opened it. It smelled delightful. Inside was a selection of different cookies, pinwheel, coconut balls, shortbread, several dark chocolate tetrahedrons that looked like tiny motes, and a little note card. In clear clean printing with thin marker were the words:

Thanks again, hotshot! Enjoy the gear. See you in Gambit. ~D

"These are nicely done," Winters said. "Do you think he made them himself? Oh hey, are those Etheric Coldsnaps? And look! Those candies look like tiny Herealways pieces! Whisp is going to love those."

Cloud closed up both boxes and began to turn away.

"Guardian," Kadi 55-30 called out to him. "Package for Cloud. Happy Dawning."

He turned back to receive a smaller box wrapped in brown cloth. It was tied with red velvet string and had a small metal charm with Eris Morn's symbol imprinted on it.

Cloud opened the box to find several misshapen cookies, hard as rocks and burnt on the bottom, perhaps made of oatmeal but it was difficult to tell. A small folded note was on top of them.

In a thin spidery hand with cursive that was difficult to read, the note read:

Cloud,

I am told you were of great help recently to someone I care for. Thank you.

Happy Dawning, E

One edge of the paper was sticky and smelled faintly of pineapple.

[snowbellewells]

CS Secret Santa 2024 Gift Fic: "Christmas Getaway With You" for @stevebcks

I am sorry that it is so late on Christmas night for your present @stevebcks! But yes, I have been your Santa this year. I have really enjoyed chatting with you and getting to know someone I hadn't ever met or gotten to talk with yet in this fandom. I hope you will still enjoy this, even though it is later than I had hoped. I also hope that this Christmas has been a great one for you and that you've truly enjoyed the warmth and joy of the holiday.

You gave me so many great ideas in your answers to my asks, and I tried to work in several of them - giving Emma and Killian more time together in their happily married everyday life, giving a glimpse of them raising their daughter, getting to see them celebrate the holiday, and to visit New York again together. I even attempted to sneak Merlin into the story (at least a playful nod to him!)

Without further hesitating, here's your story!!

“Christmas Getaway With You”

By: @snowbellewells

“Emma, for the last time, Love, you’ve checked everything twice! We’re all ready to set sail.” Killian’s gentle tone of affectionate exasperation finally served to snap Emma from ducking back into the kitchen to be absolutely certain that the door into the mudroom and their backyard beyond was secure and that the coffeemaker was indeed unplugged from the wall for what was at least the third time. Shaking her head at her own anxious dithering, she leaned into his side when he wrapped his arm around her, bringing her to a standstill in the entryway. Killian’s steadying presence soothed her frazzled nerves, just as he always did - no matter what the problem, and she thrilled at the sensation of the smooth curve of his hook rubbing back and forth lightly over her hip, the simple gesture somehow lulling in its familiarity.

“You’re right, Babe,” Emma breathed out as she looked up at him with a grateful smile. “I’m acting crazy and I’m not even sure why.”

“Nonsense, I wouldn’t necessarily call you crazy. Any pirate worth his - or her - “ here he waggled an eyebrow and gave his wife a knowing wink, “salt, knows well enough to properly safeguard the treasure.”

Emma snickered at that and pulled away, but this time she finally moved toward the door, as had been her original intention. Reaching to the coat rack whether her favorite leather jacket and beanie hung waiting, Emma grinned at her own worried expense before speaking to him over her shoulder, “Still, enough’s enough. We’re only going to be gone a few short days. Henry comes in on Friday, plus he’ll have Hope here then, and probably Violet too once she gets back to town, and we’ll be back on Monday.”

Killian’s eyebrows both rose up to disappear under the dark fringe of hair hanging over his forehead as he feigned shocked surprise. “You’re allowing the lad and his lady love to cohabitate under your roof when we aren’t here to chaperone?”

Her husband’s playful pretense of being scandalized had Emma putting her hands on her hips in equally mock consternation. “Oh, don’t pretend your delicate sensibilities are overcome. If you think I don’t know you gave him some tips on successful wooing of said lady love along the way, you’d better think again, buddy.”

Killian chuckled in return at that, dipping his head in a slight bob of agreement to show that he knew she had him there. Taking his own jacket from the peg next to his Swan’s, Killian swung his own outerwear over his shoulders and then waited at the door for Emma as she patted her pockets and made certain she had her keys, phone, badge, and cards before following her out onto the porch and locking the door behind them.

“There,” Emma said, pleased to feel the weight of everyday concerns falling from her shoulders with the closed door. Taking Killian’s offered hand, she added, “Let the holiday adventure begin.”

~~~~**

The next afternoon found them snuggled in a corner booth at the charming Serendipity’s in the Upper East Side of New York City itself. Not only was the frozen hot chocolate heaped with whipped cream and toppings decadent enough to induce guilt all on its own, but sitting there cozily tucked into Killian’s side had Emma almost feeling selfish for escaping from her family and friends in Storybrooke, not to mention her little girl to steal a few days - and nights - alone with her pirate husband. Nevermind that Hope had her Grandpa David completely wrapped around her tiny fingers and would be dragging him around with the dogs, goats and sheep on the farm until dark and then she and Grandma Snow would probably create the most intricate and icing-frosting gingerbread castle known to man; suffice it to say Hope was in little girl heaven being spoiled by her grandparents at present, and would get to spend a whole day with her adored big brother right before Emma and Killian returned; she was hardly pining away feeling left out. Maybe she should feel ashamed of herself for counting it almost a luxury to canoodle with her handsome husband in public without interruptions from well-meaning neighbors (or parents), Ruby winking at her knowingly from behind the counter at Granny’s, or one of the dwarves bursting into the middle of the date to proclaim some new emergency, but she felt incredibly spoiled and pleased at pulling it off all the same.

A pleasant rumbling chuckle from Killian’s chest vibrated through her as he licked the last of his own dessert from the spoon, making Emma’s heart rate triple and her cheeks heat at the image of his lips enveloping the utensil and thinking of how deliciously they felt sampling her bare skin as well when they were behind closed door. “You seemed pensive, Darling,” he murmured low in her ear, voice sounding mild and innocent, though Emma could clearly see otherwise when she shot a sideways glance at his twinkling eyes and mischievous expression.

“As if you don’t know exactly what you’re doing,” she countered with a huff, pushing away slightly to sit upright, sip the last dregs of her melty treat, and rise to stand before him determinedly. “Enough stalling, Captain,” she added with tart certainty. “You aren’t going to get me addled enough to forget what you promised. I may drag you back to our room, but…”

As she paused for a shaky breath, Killian ran his tongue salaciously over his lower lip, eyeing her intently and taking her internal temperature up another few notches. Still, Emma arched her brow right back at him in return and leaned in to meet his teasing look with one of her own. “But not before you take me ice skating, as planned,” she finished.

Shaking his head at her antics, Killian rose to his feet as well, leaving a generous tip for their server - with dollar bills, not doubloons, as Emma had reiterated he must do to blend in properly in the Land Without Magic - and offered her his arm as gallantly as ever while they made their way back out into the frosty night. Once they were back on the sidewalk, shoulders hunched against the chill air as they turned their steps toward Central Park, Killian spoke up again with resigned knowing, “Though I suspect you largely wish to see me at disadvantage and looking foolish, you wish is - as always - my command, Emma.”

The wide, dazzling grin she gave him in return sent any hesitance Killian had felt at the strange activity fleeing to the furthest back corner of his mind. His lovely wife beaming so open and joyously was still entirely too rare in his opinion, and it made any upcoming embarrassment well worth it. Emma, for her part, could see that decision in his adoring gaze, and blinked back the tears that beaded her eyelashes, loving him all the more for his dedication to her happiness.

~~~**

Upon reaching the crowded space sent aside as an ice-skating rink within the acreage of Central Park, not only did Emma gain a bit of an eager spring to her step, her shining golden hair swinging mesmerizingly over her shoulders, but Killian felt himself charmed too, in spite of his reluctance. The borders around the frozen surface were looped and festooned by a wealth of twinkle lights glowing cheerily, and at some point during their stop for dessert at Serendipity’s, snow had begun to fall lightly, giving the entire scene just the sort of pretty white dusting that added the perfect festive look to the atmosphere. People were scattered all around the busy clearing - as they were all throughout this major city, Killian was coming to understand, almost packed atop each other really. There were couples skating hand-in-hand and parents helping their children put on skates interspersed with teenagers weaving in and out of the slower skaters on the ice and laughing over their cocoa in clumps at the picnics tables; humanity of all ages and races converging here in holiday cheer. It truly was something to witness.

Emma led the way to the rental stall with confidence, causing Killian to wonder with blatant curiosity if she and Henry had come here often in that lost year when they were separated and her lad was still just a youngster yet. That time had dragged and tormented her unendingly, thinking Emma was lost to him forever, just when she had begun to see him for the man he wished to be, the man she had restored in him. All the same, for his Swan, it must have been such a sweet, simple respite in many ways. She didn’t remember the family, or the pirate, she had lost. Henry was hers alone, and had always been so. Returning to the constant battles and demands, to sharing her son with the woman who would have gladly seen her dead - or in a cursed sleep forever - could not have been the easy choice. Killian knew that - and yet, it struck him anew in moments he least expected it. 

Turning to see the slightly pained expression on his face, Emma’s brow puckered in confusion. “What’s wrong, Babe?” she asked worriedly, tugging the hand she held to get his attention fully. “You know I’m mostly kidding you, right? If we skate a couple rounds and you hate it, we don’t have to keep going.”

Killian shook his head with a light scoff at that, waving off her concern before bending to press a kiss to her forehead in reassurance. “Don’t you worry, Love,” he soothed. “I was only lost in thought for a moment.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, leaning in to rest a hand over his heart as she often did, ever since his time in the Underworld, it having become a bit of a habit to assure herself his heart was beating with life once again.

“Aye,” he nodded decisively, without a moment’s pause, not about to keep her guessing or make her feel he wouldn’t wish to join her in whatever she truly wished to do.

By this time, they had reached the front of the line and turned from conversation with each other to face the attendant renting skates to all the bravely bundled up visitors of the outdoor rink. To Emma’s surprise, the young man smiling back at them had an oddly familiar glimmer in his deep chocolate-brown eyes and soft affection to his smile. It was completely at odds with her certainty that she’d never met him before, nor could she begin to guess his name, but the way he greeted them with such friendliness and - she could have sworn - a playful wink, made it seem as if he somehow knew them. He was a handsome and eye-catching guy, his close-cropped black hair, mocha latte skin, and lean height made him hard not to notice, all the more reason Emma suspiciously felt she ought to know him, though her mind offered no further clues. “How can I help you fine folks?” he spoke then, bright and completely innocuous right words. “A couple pair of skates?”

“Right you are,” Killian answered, giving Emma a curious look to show he found this effusive welcome strange as well, but carrying on normally. “Two pair for an hour’s rental, if you please.”

With a nod, the attendant turned to reach behind him to the shelves and retrieve the skates in their sizes which Killian had requested. Emma offered him the rental fee money, as Killian had taken both pairs of skates in his good hand and didn’t often choose to extend his false wooden hand to strangers, even if he did concede to wear it when they ventured outside Storybrooke. However, when her gloved hand touched his to give him the money, a shivering flash ran through her, nearly knocking Emma back on her heels. 

Glancing up at the man sharply, Emma drew in a quick gasp of surprise, even as she felt Killian’s touch at the small of her back in silent support. All she got in return was a subtle bow of the head, acknowledging what she had felt, and the lowly murmured, “It’s lovely to see you happy for the holidays at long last, Savior.”

“What - ? Wait, who are you?” she sputtered, floundering for a response. “How did you - ?”

“Emma, Love, maybe now is not the time,” Killian whispered at her ear, nodding subtly toward the line of people behind them, beginning to shuffle and grow impatient when they didn’t move on with their skates and make way for the next customers.

“To answer your question, I’m Melvin Emrys, skate shop employee extraordinaire,” the enigmatic young man broke in with a smile. “Though I doubt that helps you, as I am sure even now you are thinking that name does not quite fit.” He winked again. “Both of you enjoy your time on the ice. It truly can be magical this time of year. But I’m afraid that now I must see to the rest of my customers.”

Killian ushered Emma over to a bench nearby, she still looking back over her shoulder uneasily, trying to understand what had just happened. Her pirate was hovering a bit more protectively than usual, but nothing overtly threatening had actually happened, and so they soon attempted to shrug off the odd encounter, see to their skates, and were soon gingerly stepping out onto the ice.

To her utter delight, Emma found that the gliding movement came back to her easily, her feet moving almost as if on auto pilot, her muscle memory seeming to sustain her, even if it had been years since she’d last been on skates. Swirling around she faced Killian, who was still on solid ground, looking dubiously at the frozen surface and then her as if again trying to gauge if she only wanted to see him land on his arse. 

Holding out her hand, Emma cocked her head to the side and gave him a playful pout before wheedling, “Come on now, Pirate, don’t tell me the scourge of the high seas is afraid of a little frozen water. Don’t you trust me?”

Resolve seemed to crystallize in Killian’s bright blue eyes, the determined bob of his chin seeming to solidify his decision. “That’s hardly fair, Sweetheart. You know I trust you as I would no one else.”  He took first one, then another cautious step forward, until he was, wavering only slightly, standing fully on the icy surface. “I simply wonder if you might also wish to see me looking as ridiculously uncoordinated as you sometimes do.”

“Hey!” Emma blurted out, almost jerking her hand back to cross her arms over her chest in feigned affront. 

He had hold of her already, and rather than slipping and losing his balance, he pulled her into his unexpectedly solid embrace, grinning down at her with a face so full of mischief that she knew immediately she’d been had. 

“You already know how to ice skate just fine, don’t you?” she asked, the answer having already dawned on her without much of a doubt.

Waggling both eyebrows at her in a way that made her want to both giggle and smack him simultaneously, Killian nodded in confirmation of her words, not willing to string her along any further. 

“Why didn’t you say so?” she asked curiously.

“All that time on the seas, traveling to so many different lands and times, I would have had to have picked it up somewhere. There are parts of the sea that turn so cold, even that much water can freeze solid,” he offered simply. “But you seemed to eager to show me something from your world, to teach me something that you loved to do, that I hated to spoil it for you. And I wasn’t completely sure that after so long in Neverland, I would still remember how…”

“Hmm…” Emma grumbled a bit, but it was half-hearted, seeing that his heart had been in the right place, and also eager to skate with him, to feel the breeze in her hair and the snowflakes on her face and enjoy the feeling of almost flying with him at her side.

“Now, now, Darling,” Killian crooned, taking her hand and pushing off gracefully, both of them setting off in a smooth glide that curved gently when they reached the end of the rink. “Don’t pout, just because you won’t be getting to see this arse you love bumped and bruised and frozen from landing on the ice.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see about how much I love it once you probably show me up at this,” she said, but her cheeks were heating pleasantly just watching how smoothly he moved beside her. He was as graceful in this as he was everything else he tried.

~~~**

By the time their few days in the city drew to a close, it was Christmas Eve. As they packed up the Bug for the trek back to Storybrooke, Emma couldn’t help reflecting on what a difference a few days away could make. She and Killian hadn’t had this much time to themselves since they were married, quite possibly even since their inadvertent trip to the Enchanted Forest of the past. She couldn’t claim to read her pirate’s mind, but they did understand each other, just as they always had. It was clear enough that he felt as renewed as she did, and anxious to get home again to their loved ones, especially their little girl.

She knew Killian was also thrilled to have found gifts fit for his pirate princess at FAO Schwarz and couldn’t wait to give them to Hope the next day. He’d found a huge, ostentatious, feathered pirate hat worthy of his showy old nemesis Blackbeard, but he knew his daughter would love it. Along with that, he’d purchased a shining miniature toy cutlass which looked as much like his as he could have possibly imagined without being an actual weapon. Emma found herself grinning even more at the thought of the large, squishy-soft stuffed octopus she’d found herself to add to the haul. After being spoiled by her grandparents and then her older brother the last several days, Hope would be on a sugar high and bouncing off the walls with excitement already. Seeing all her presents from the big city would have her beside herself.

And Emma wouldn’t want it any other way. There was something incredibly healing about seeing her own child get to have the sort of Christ mas she herself had always dreamed of - surrounded by belongings and love - and getting to be a part of it herself at long last.

So when they drove past the Storybrooke sign some hours later, snowflakes still sparkling in the chill air and Killian’s solid warmth at her side, nearing the rest of their family and a Christmas celebration sure to be of royal proportions at her mother and father’s farmhouse that night, Emma smiled at her True Love and let herself savor that extra little thrill of Christmas magic.

[snowbellewells]

@whimsicallyenchantedrose And now, with this complete first full chapter, I am absolutely and completely hooked. Naturally my heart aches for Emma. I can’t even truly imagine the sort of wearing, bleak life she has had to live and sees stretching out before her as well. And yet, despite the very different time and place, we can see the strength and fortitude of our Emma Swan we know and love from OuaT, she just isn’t one to give up and so she keeps right on fighting as best she can.

The thought of her losing her brother so suddenly and tragically, followed by her father so soon after, was simply heartbreaking. Then, she allows herself to be caught in Gold’s trap for her mother’s sake, only to have her shortly die as well. I’m not going to lie (even if I feel bad for saying so) I can’t help but agree with Granny. The sea found a way to take out the trash, as she put it, and it’s really too bad Neal found a way back and became Emma’s responsibility again.

Thank goodness she does have Granny Lucas, Captain Nemo, and the others in the village! I was cracking up at the bit with Granny’s exchange with Marco, and just her giving everyone what-for in general: “As the older couple began bickering in earnest–and apparently enjoying every moment of it–Emma excused herself and walked on.  She did, in fact, have a few errands to run before the sun fully set and the stores closed, and if she waited for her companions to finish their “conversation”, she might be standing here all night.” You’ve cast these supporting players wonderfully well to give us and Emma a bit of a respite and some glimmer of humor and happiness in the drab situation.

I also loved how you worked in echoes of canon, like Emma telling Neal she had wished he was dead, much the way it happens in Neverland. In the end, she still cares for him and fulfills what seems to be her lot, but the truth is there, and we feel for her all the more for it.

I could understand why she wasn’t up to meeting blissfully happy newlyweds after all that, but I am hoping David and MM will become friends for her (seems she could use all the good friends she can get!) and they might be able to help bring some light and hope, and even help some with the load of caring for Neal, seeing as he’s a doctor and all!

At the Dawn There is Rejoicing--a birthday gift for @kmomof4 (Chapter 1)

Summary:  Birthday gift for Krystal, @kmomof4. Based on the story of Leslie Moore and Owen Ford in the book Anne’s House of Dreams–the 5th book in the Anne of Green Gables series.  Emma Gold has led a difficult life.  Her brother and her father died when she was a child, and she was then coerced into marrying the odious Neal Gold.  She thought she’d been granted a reprieve when he was believed to be lost at sea–only for him to return disabled and in need of a caregiver.  Killian is a newspaper reporter who is tired of his routine life.  When he falls ill, his editor forces him to take a sabbatical.  What will happen when Emma takes Killian in as a border for the summer?

Word Count: 2445y

Other Chapters: (Prologue) (2) (3)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Four Winds Harbor, Prince Edward Island, Canada, 1890

Emma Gold shut the door quietly but firmly before taking the harbor road toward the small, seaside village she’d called home all her life.  She let out a long breath, rolling her head from side to side, trying to work out the tension of the day.

And what a trying day it had been!  Neal had been absolutely impossible today.  Some days her husband was calm, affectionate, sometimes even helpful, as much as he could be anyway.

This was not one of those days.  

Today, he’d vexed her from the moment he woke up until the moment he went back to bed.  Her one consolation was that Neal slept like the dead, not moving from the time his head hit the pillow until the rays of the morning sun woke him.

It was a lovely evening for a walk, the twilight painting the sky with beautiful pinks and oranges and yellows, the temperature ideal for an evening stroll.  If her life were different, she’d likely have enjoyed every moment of it–the temperate sea breeze, the faint call of the seagulls, the distant crash of the ocean against the shore.

But her life wasn’t different.  It was an endless cascade of drudgery ever since the day she’d turned twelve.

She remembered that day like it was yesterday, knew she’d never forget it.  It had been a lovely summer day.  She and her eight year old brother, Henry, had been playing out in the barn.  She’d never, to her dying day, forget the moment Henry had stepped through a broken floorboard in the barn loft and fallen to his death.

She might have gotten past the trauma–or at least learned to live with it, if, not six months later, tragedy hadn’t struck again.  Her father, Philip, had never been the same after his only son’s death, and when he’d subsequently fallen ill with pneumonia, there was no fight in him.  He succumbed to the illness within a week of its onset.

And so, all that was left of her once happy, vibrant family was her and her mother Aurora.  Aurora, known for her stunning beauty, but never for her strength and resiliency, had rather fallen apart after the death of both her husband and her son.  Emma, at the tender age of thirteen, had to effectively take on the role of head of the household.

“Those appear to be some rather melancholy thoughts, you’re having, Emma, Dearie,” came a comforting voice to her left. “Difficult day was it?”

Emma turned and smiled despite herself at the woman who’d joined her.  Granny Lucas, though four decades her senior, if she was a day, was quite possibly Emma’s best friend in the world.  Granny had stood beside her through thick and thin, always ready with a comforting pat–as well as a run-down of all the gossip in the village, peppered liberally with scathing commentary about anyone she deemed to be in need of it.  (More often than not, it was the men who got the sharp side of her tongue, rather than the fairer sex.  Good woman, though she was, Granny was something of a man hater.)

Emma sighed loudly.  “Indeed,” she said. “Neal seemed to take it as his personal challenge to plague me from morning until night.”

“Just like a man!” Granny scoffed.  “Emma, dearie, would you like me to come by and give you a break tomorrow?  I’m determined to finish knitting my blanket for the expected Hubbard baby–it’s their eighth, you know, and them barely able to care for the seven they already have.  That house of theirs is no bigger than a shoe!--and I can knit just as well at your place as my own.  You’re looking pale and thin.  You need a break.”

Emma smiled at the older woman, but then shook her head.  “Neal is my responsibility, Granny.  You’ve been too kind already.  I’ll muddle through as I’ve always done.”

Down at the shore, the lighthouse came on just as dusk fell, and Granny scowled darkly at the beacon.  “I will never, no never, forgive Captain Nemo for bringing Neal back to you that fateful day all those years ago.  The man should be horsewhipped!”

Emma looked up at the lighthouse, thinking of the kind old man who ran it like clockwork.  After Granny herself, Captain Nemo was probably her greatest friend and ally.  There wasn’t a mean or hurtful bone in his body, and Emma knew he’d have walked over broken glass to spare her from pain if he could, but he also had a sense of honor and duty that was stronger than anything.

She sighed.  “Granny, you know that’s not fair.  When Nemo found him down in Havana, he couldn’t leave him there, as much as I wish he had.”

“Well I’d have left him,” Granny said with a decisive nod, “and I’ll tell you, I wouldn’t have felt one pang of conscience for it.  That man deserved what he got!”

Emma couldn’t exactly disagree with the older woman there.  Neal Gold had been the bane of her existence since she was little more than a girl.

She’d met him when she was sixteen–he was twenty-four at the time, and had been away from the harbor for many years–and she’d despised him from the start.  He was handsome enough, she supposed, but he was arrogant, something of a womanizer, utterly full of himself, and had a mean streak a mile wide.

To her chagrin, he’d taken a fancy to her from the moment they first met, and he’d immediately made his interest known.  The first time he’d proposed marriage, she’d gently turned him down.  The second, she’d refused more firmly.  The third time, she let her fist do the talking.

If she’d believed Neal got the hint after that, she was sorely mistaken, for Neal had a secret weapon, and he was more than willing to use it.  Emma and her mother lived on land that was owned by Robert Gold, Neal’s father, and the day after Emma’s third refusal, Mr. Gold had shown up at the house they rented from him and threatened to evict them if she didn’t agree to become Neal’s wife.

Everything in Emma screamed at her to refuse, but her mother had simply fallen apart at the thought of being turned out of her home.

“After everything that’s happened to us, Emma!” Aurora had wailed.  “I can’t lose our home too.  I can’t!”

And so it was with a heavy heart that she’d agreed to the marriage.

Emma found marriage to Neal every bit as noxious as she’d anticipated, and when her mother passed away suddenly, only two weeks into her horrible marriage, she felt as though she didn’t have an ally left in the world–save for Granny and Captain Nemo, of course. Some days, Emma woke next to her snoring, detested husband, and thought the hopelessness of her situation would swallow her whole.

And so, when Neal got bored of staid, married life no more than a month after their nuptials and declared his intention to seek treasure and adventure on the high seas, Emma had breathed an unqualified sigh of relief.  She’d be left alone to tend to their farm and make ends meet to the best of her abilities, but she’d be free of Neal.

He vowed to come home in six months, and Emma circled the date on the calendar with a heavy, black pen.  A little dramatic, maybe, but she felt like that date spelled her doom.

But the date came and went with no Neal.  

Six months passed, seven, eight, and still he didn’t appear.  The good folks of the harbor began to worry that something had happened to his ship.  When the year mark was passed and still no sight nor word of him, they gave him up for dead.

Emma breathed a sigh of relief–and then immediately hated herself for it.  What kind of horrible wife was glad it looked like her husband was dead? 

Granny had no such qualms.  “Good riddance!” she averred firmly.  “Someone needed to take the trash out.  It looks like the sea managed to complete the task.”

“Now, now, Granny,” Captain Nemo said good naturedly, “I’m surprised at you!  Such an unChristian thing to say.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t feel exactly the same, Nemo,” she said, piercing that jolly sailor with a withering glance above her spectacles.  “Neal Gold was no good.  You know it. I know it. We all know it.  Our Emma is well rid of him.”

But the ill-luck that had plagued Emma ever since her twelfth birthday was not done with her yet.  Two months later, Captain Nemo had set sail once more with his crew–being at that time still an active sailor and not yet the keeper of the lighthouse.  It was when he made port in Havana that he learned the awful truth.

Neal was still very much alive.  

Several months past, he’d been ambushed on his way to his ship and beaten badly.  He’d been taken to a dockside inn, where the proprietors had nearly given him up for dead, but he’d pulled through–physically at least.  One of the worst blows to his head had evidently induced not only amnesia but brain damage as well.  To wit, he emerged from his life-threatening injuries with the mentality and faculties of a child.

The innkeepers had continued to house and care for him, having no notion of his identity or how to discover it, but from the moment Captain Nemo set eyes on him, it was clear.  The man before him had changed–he’d gained weight and he had a scar on his face that wasn’t there before–but it was unmistakably Neal Gold.

For a moment, Nemo had contemplated simply setting sail and pretending he’d never learned the truth, but Captain Nemo was such a fundamentally honest and upright man, determined to do his duty no matter how detestable, that in the end he brought the man-child home with him.

Emma took the news as stoically as she could, knowing there was nothing for her but to accept her responsibility to care for her husband.  Only once did she bemoan her fate.  On the day Neal returned, she’d looked across the table into his vacant eyes and said “I was hoping you were dead - because it would be easier for me to put you behind me, than to face all the pain that we went through all over again.”

That was eleven years ago.  She had cared for him from that very day.  Some days he was reasonably pleasant–even somewhat helpful.  Others, he was a holy terror, reminding her of nothing so much as an overgrown toddler.

Still, life with this Neal was far more palatable than life with the man in his right mind, and so she persisted.

Coming back to the present, Emma sighed.  “You and I both know Captain Nemo would do anything he could to help me, but we also know he couldn’t turn from doing the right thing, even if it was hard.”

Granny merely harumphed, and for a moment, they walked on in silence.

“Well, as I live and breathe,” a delighted voice came from beside Granny, “if it isn’t Granny Lucas, looking lovely as ever.”

“Well as I live and breathe,” she retorted with an eyeroll, “if it isn’t Marco Gepetto looking as much like an overgrown wooly mammoth as ever.”

Emma smiled in spite of herself.  Marco was, indeed, an odd looking personage with his beard and hair both falling in tangled curls to his waist.  Apparently his state of hariness had something to do with politics, but Granny Lucas never missed an opportunity to tell him, in no uncertain terms, how utterly ridiculous he was.  Marco, for his part, gave as good as he got.

If Emma didn’t know better, she’d swear it was their preferred method of flirting.

As the older couple began bickering in earnest–and apparently enjoying every moment of it–Emma excused herself and walked on.  She did, in fact, have a few errands to run before the sun fully set and the stores closed, and if she waited for her companions to finish their “conversation”, she might be standing here all night.

Emma walked on in silence, her melancholy thoughts returning once more, and she’d nearly reached the store when she heard the sound of a horse and buggy approaching.  She looked up in curiosity.  Few people drove into town, everyone living within walking distance.

The carriage contained a young couple–a woman with long, curly black hair and sparkling green eyes.  A blond man with blue eyes.  Both looked at each other as though there was no one else on earth.  Their love was nearly a tangible thing.

This must be the new doctor–David Nolan, wasn’t it?--and his bride.

The woman noticed her then, standing on the road, and she raised a hand in greeting, apparently eager to make her acquaintance.  Emma turned her head and rushed away as an overwhelming wave of bitterness washed over her.

Talk in the town was that the new doctor and his bride had married that very day and then, in lieu of a honeymoon, had set out for their new home–the little house on the harbor which would make them Emma’s nearest neighbors.  Emma knew she shouldn’t begrudge the newlyweds their happiness, but sometimes the pain overwhelmed her.

That kind of happiness would never be hers.  Tomorrow she’d likely feel bad for her lack of neighborliness toward the newest citizens of her town, but for right now…for right now, she just wanted to wallow.

Notes: I did warn you there would be a good deal of pain on the front end of this story, didn’t I?  I took (and will continue to take) a fair amount of liberties with OUAT character relationships for my story.  The goal was to cast OUAT characters that I felt best matched the personality and story of the Anne’s House of Dreams characters.

For those who have read Anne’s House of Dreams, you’ll probably recognize that Mary Margaret and David  are Anne and Gilbert, Granny is Miss Cornelia Bryant, Nemo is Captain Jim, Marco is Marshall Elliot, and of course Emma and Neal are Leslie and Dick Moore.  (If I ever slip up and call Neal Dick….it’s probably due to the character’s name in the book, although the insult is also warranted.)

Up Next: Emma meets Mary Margaret.  Meanwhile in Montreal, Killian is rather burnt out at his job as a newspaper reporter in Montreal.  His boss suggests he take a vacation.

NEXT CHAPTER->

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Best Kept Secret on the Grid || Part Four

MV, CL, CS, LH, LN, PG, GR, FA, DR, OP x fem!reader Warnings: fluff and flirting (sorry there will be smut next time) Reader gets to go on a hunt of her own! WC: 3.1k F1 Masterlist || Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five Thank you to @kimi240302 for being inspired to make this collage, it’s perfect! 💕 and it inspired this fic!

It was strange that the elevator had arrived on your floor, and even stranger that it was empty. Your penthouse apartment took up the entire top floor of the building and required a keycard just to use the private elevator. Only Max had the spare keycard.

Sticking your head inside you found it wasn’t entirely empty. Tucked into the corner was a gift box tied off with a delicate silver bow, your name written on the tag hanging from it. You thought about calling Max first but it wasn’t unusual to receive gifts from him so you carried it inside and opened it.

Your jaw dropped at the beautiful ball gown neatly placed inside. Each crystal of the glittering bodice was individually sewn on with meticulous care and it must have cost a small fortune to make. There wasn’t even a label to give a clue as to who the designer was, but it was clearly custom made and you knew without even stepping into it that it would fit perfectly.

Lifting the train out, you found an equally stunning half mask along with a small blank card that you turned over. Hand written in an elegant script is said: Le Bal Masqué 2200. You looked at the time and saw there was just over an hour to get ready.

You had just settled the mask over your styled hair when there was a knock on your door and you slipped your heels on before answering. Expecting to see Max waiting, you were surprised to find a stranger holding a card with your name on it, silently handing it over before you could ask what was going on.

It’s your turn to find us tonight, M.

“Your car is downstairs, madame,” the messenger said as he held the elevator door open for you.

The excitement brought a smile to your face as you stepped inside, wondering just what he had planned for you. You obviously weren’t hunting them the same way they chased you on the island, the dress was far too nice to ruin.

You were occupied by your thoughts the entire drive through the streets of Monte Carlo until you arrived at a cliff side residence. The gates opened at the car’s approach and you could see the mansion was full of men wearing their finest suits. 

“Have a lovely evening, madame,” the chauffeur said as he opened the door for you. 

You thanked him as you stepped out, your entrance garnering plenty of envious stares from the women and looks of longing from men loitering on the steps. You had scanned what you could see of the men’s faces beneath the masks and determined why this was a hunt - three had the same blue eyes and dirty blonde hair as Max while two could have easily been Charles at first glance. 

Smiling to yourself, you climbed the stairs and entered the large foyer full of men who could all pass for yours. 

“Champagne?” You took the flute from the waiter’s tray and saw two rolls of stickers beside it. Noticing the curious lift of your brow above the diamante mask, the waiter tapped the first roll. “The green sticker is for when you believe you have found one of the drivers here this evening, there are only ten so choose wisely. If you believe you have found an imposter, place a red dot on their lapel and they will be escorted off the premises. You have until midnight. Happy hunting.”

You smirked over the rim of your champagne flute and grabbed the roll of red stickers first. Turning to survey the crowd, you chuckled as you whispered to yourself, “Oh Max, you’ve outdone yourself.”

“Enjoying your evening?”

You turned to the man with a thick Spanish accent and immediately knew he wasn’t your Nando, though the jawline beneath the mask followed the same curve and his short beard was shaped similarly. The voice was too deep and the eyes were more green than hazel to match Nando’s so you plucked a red dot from the reel and slapped it on his suit as you answered, “Extremely. Thank you for coming.”

His lips turned down and a large unmasked man stepped out of the shadows, already guiding him out of the residence. You were already making your way to the ballroom where the crowd swelled, dozens and dozens congregating on the dance floor where a band were playing new hit singles but in a classical way. Perhaps band wasn’t the right term, there were so many instruments it was practically an orchestra.

An arm curled around your waist as you swayed to the music and you tipped your head back to meet a pair of brown eyes so dark they were almost black. He didn’t speak as he pulled you closer and for the first time you weren’t certain if the man was an imposter or your Esteban.

“You’re not going to ask how my night is going?” you baited him, a quick smiling parting his lips as he shook his head. Pursing your lips, you weren’t ready to rule him out with a red sticker but you needed to hear his voice to decide if he was worth one of the precious ten green dots in your hand. “Then how about a drink instead?”

His smile grew as he took your hand in his and led you to one of the small bars dotted around the ballroom. Looking at the long fingers laced with yours, you saw a thin tan line on his index finger where a ring had spent a lot of time and you tried to remember if Esteban had one too. Charles, Pierre and Lando definitely did but the memory of Estie’s hand drew a blank - you knew his fingers from how they felt between your legs not by sight apparently.

“Two piña coladas, please,” you ordered as you watched what features you could around the mask but there was no sign of disgust. “One for the road,” you added as you placed a red sticker on his collar.

“How did you know?” the lookalike asked with an English accent.

“Pineapples.” You shrugged and took the cocktail that was placed in front of you. “He hates them.”

Half an hour later the crowd had thinned dramatically. The security team had been kept busy as you felt like the Oprah meme, slapping red dots on the imposters - you get one, and you get one. With a large portion of men gone you were able to focus better and there were two men in particular you had your eye on.

All it took was one laugh and you were peeling back the first green sticker, heading for the pair of dark haired men chatting in the library. Their backs were to you as they laughed at silly book titles and you announced your arrival with a kiss to the shadow of a beard before sticking the green dot to his forehead.

“You two together was always going to be a dead giveaway,” you teased as you stuck another sticker on Lando’s nose. “Only Carlos can make you laugh like that.”

“Don’t tell me we were first?” he whined as he saw the otherwise full strip of green dots. “How have you not found George?”

You trailed a finger over the perfect lines of his suit before tugging the bow tie around his neck. He swallowed at the smouldering look in your eyes and let you drag him closer by the throat until your lips brushed his ear. “Why don’t you help me?”

His lips parted to answer but Carlos pulled him away before he could impart the information he knew. Blocking you with his body, Carlos shook his head at your attempt to break the younger driver. “Rules are rules, hermosa, and you are running out of time.”

He jutted his chin at the grandfather clock and smirked as he ducked from your reach with a laugh when you tried to take back the green sticker. “Uh uh uh, I’m well and truly yours.”

“You’re lucky you’re handsome,” you warned as you left them to their game and continued your hunt. “Alright, George, Gerorge, George, where would you be…oh.”

You had wandered through the throngs of people inside the impressive mansion but you hadn’t explored the rest of the property. It was very easy to understand Lando’s complaint when you walked out the wide open doors to the infinity pool set on the cliff face.

“I’m not sure how I’m going to get this to stick to you,” you said as you held a green dot on your finger tip. George grinned beneath his mask as he looked up from the waters edge enjoying a warm dip in the pool. Water dripped from his hair and ran down his chest as he stood up, tracing a wet palm up your calf through the slit in the dress. He was the only one at the soirée who had taken his suit off and he had also decided to put his bow tie back on before hopping in the heated pool. “You look like a stripper.”

“A very expensive one I hope,” he teased. “You look hot, love, you should join me and cool off.”

“Wish I could,” you sighed, feeling a little like the white rabbit in Alice in Wonderland, “but I’m running late and still have seven of you guys to chase down.”

George pulled himself out of the pool and grabbed a towel, a few drops of water catching on the crystal bodice as he shook his hair out. He dragged the towel down his body and you used the dry spot on the centre of his chest to plant a green dot on him. “Tagging my heart, love,” he chuckled, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “You don’t need to chase us, we are waiting for you.”

He sent you a wink as he swiped up his suit and left you poolside, confused by what he meant. “You’ll figure it out, I know you will.”

Dawdling along the balcony, you chewed over his words before realisation struck. You found Lando and Carlos together and George in the water - places where they loved to be. It seemed so obvious once you thought it and you rushed inside to the ballroom. You hadn’t questioned why the orchestra was masked but when you spotted the dark head of hair at the grand piano it made sense.

“It’s my favourite Frenchman,” you whispered in his ear and the melody bounced over a miskey.

“Monegasque,” he corrected automatically, turning to see the amusement shimmering in your eyes. “Bonsoir, mi bella.”

“You might want to rest those fingers, Charles, wouldn’t want you to get a cramp later.”

He grinned at the remark and dragged them across the keys. “Don’t worry, I’m just warming up.”

“So am I.” You reached out and stuck the green dot to the index and middle finger on his right hand before kissing the dimple on his cheek. “Those are mine.”

You followed a waiter as he slipped from the room with an empty tray and found a set of stairs leading down a floor, into a busy kitchen. Your next target stood out among the white shirt chefs and you were once again amazed at how they had managed to find strangers with such a resemblance to your drivers.

“What’s cooking, good looking?”

Fernando turned with a spoonful of something that smelled delicious and your lips parted for him. A heavenly moan hummed from your chest as you tasted what he had been stirring on the stove. Nando smirked as his eyes followed the line of your lips before he leaned in and caught them with his, rolling his tongue across your bottom lip.

“You missed a bit,” he said as he wiped the spot of sauce with his thumb before licking it clean. You momentarily forgot what you were doing but he had his wits about him as he took a green sticker and placed it on his collar. “Now this is my colour.”

“Not red?” He shook his head as you flattened the dot to make sure it wouldn’t be lost in the 25 minutes you had left. “So the Ferrari rumours…?”

“Just rumours, querida, but I don’t think you have time to gossip.” He pointed the spoon to the clock above the head chef’s station. “There’s still a few spots left.”

“Vegan special,” the chef shouted as he hit the bell for service and a waiter arrived in an instant. “Deliver this to the home theatre.”

“One less now.” You grinned and pulled another sticker out. “See you at midnight.”

You followed the waiter into the quiet depths of the mansion until he reached a door and you took the plate from the tray. “I can take it from here, thanks.”

Lewis was so engrossed in the film he didn’t notice it was you in the room with him. It was only when he looked closer he saw the green dot stuck to the white china plate in your hands and looked up with a wide smile.

“I take gratuities in orgasms, just so you know,” you said with a laugh as he moved the plate and pulled you onto his lap instead.

“It’s your lucky night, baby,” he purred in your ear as his hand slipped up the slit in your dress. “I’ve been told I’m a heavy tipper.”

His fingers teased along the lace edge of your panties and you only just managed to clear your head before he could erase all your thoughts with his touch. “Rain check,” you groaned, not wanting to leave just yet but Fernando had given you an idea before the chef had set you onto Lewis’ path. “Where would you go if you wanted to hear the juiciest gossip?”

Lewis chewed his lip as he thought it over before deciding, “The bar, a few drinks definitely loosens lips.”

“Then that’s where I need to go.” You thanked him with a kiss before leaving the theatre and made your way back to the busiest room in the place. But, before you could leave the lower levels you heard a distinctive accent and skidded to a stop.

“When they said you guys came from a land down under, I didn’t think they meant the basement.” Daniel’s smile split his face as you stepped into the games room where he and Oscar were chalking their cue sticks.

“Thank god you’re here,” Oscar sighed gratefully and placed the cue down on the table, turning to face you with a smile. “I suck at playing pool.”

“Maybe that’s because it's billiards, not pool,” you pointed out as you stepped into the space between his legs.

“I don’t even know what that is,” he admitted, his hands running over the dresses bodice and down to rest on your ass. “You look gorgeous.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a suit.” You straightened the bow that had tilted at some point and draped your arms around his neck. “It suits you, handsome.”

His nose wrinkled and you giggled as he tugged at the tie, sending it off kilter again. “It feels like I’m being choked.”

“There’s some pleasure to be found in a bit of choking. Isn’t that right?” Daniel asked in your ear as he stepped up behind you, his fingers delicately circling your throat. He guided your head back to his shoulder and traced his nose over your racing pulse, inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume. “Hmm, maybe we can show him how good it can be.”

You could feel both of them coming to life as they sandwiched you between them, digging their erections into you. Your eyes fluttered shut at the temptation to drop to your knees and taste the Australian drivers, but you forced your eyes open and squirmed free of their intoxicating embrace.

“Soon, promise,” you panted as you slapped a sticker on Daniel’s ass and made Oscar whine needily when you placed one over his tented trousers, rubbing your palm over it to make sure the green dot was secured. “Very soon.”

The largest bar was set up in what you guessed was usually a dining hall and it spanned the length of the room. Leaning against the bartop was Pierre, his chin on his fist as he listened to the revellers unravelling their innermost thoughts aloud. He was engrossed in the tale, nodding encouragement when the woman’s cheeks turned scarlet red beneath her mask.

“And what did he do?” Pierre asked eagerly.

The woman covered her lips as she giggled before leaning in and whispering her confession. Pierre’s lips parted with a gasp, his eyebrows rising over the top of his mask as he stood upright. “Non!”

“Oui!”

Pierre spun around at the sound of your voice in his ear and he tore his mask from his face. “Ma chatte, look at you,” he said with a playful bit of his lip as you gave him a slow spin to show all of your curves glittering beneath the chandelier light. “Beautiful. And just in time too.”

You followed his gaze and saw there was only three minutes to midnight. “Shit,” you whispered as you grabbed the second to last sticker and pressed it to his chest. “Gotta run.”

Your calves burned as you climbed the stairs, spiralling higher and higher, racing the hands of the clock until you reached the top floor. The entire wall was made of glass and overlooked the dark water beyond the cliffs, but it wasn’t the panoramic vista that caught your eye.

His back was to you, the black silk tie of his mask flattening the back of his hair that would usually stick up in all directions, especially after combing your fingers through the strands. But it didn’t matter if you couldn’t see his face, you would recognise him anywhere.

His hands were crossed at the base of his spine, right one holding the left. It was how he stood whenever he was on the podium, how he stood when his anthem played. It was how he stood when he desperately wanted to be elsewhere but was forced to be patient.

You wrapped your arms around his narrow waist and found his eyes reflected in the glass. “Hi.”

The grandfather clocks throughout the mansion struck 12, the loud dongs echoing through the halls. “I wasn’t sure you were going to make it.”

You smiled into his shoulder at the teasing in his voice. “I always knew where you would be.” Stepping around his body, he pulled you into the circle of his arms so you were both watching the horizon as fireworks began to light up the sky above the sea. “There was only one place my Max could possibly be…at the top.”

Click here for the next part.

[callsign-mayhem]

i'm with the band (part 2)

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Female!Reader & Bradley Bradshaw x Female!Reader (final pairing to be revealed at the end...) Word count: 5.1k CW: Use of Y/N; reader wears Dr Martens, but that's the only specific detail.

You discover that your best friend Bob can play the drums, and since you have some musical gifts of your own, you decide to start a navy band. It's supposed to be a bit of harmless fun, but what happens when lines get blurred between you and Bob, feelings come to the surface, and a certain Rooster gets jealous?

This is a multi-part fic.

Find part one here!

The Hard Deck was bustling like it always was on a Saturday night. Bradley was the last of the daggers to arrive, so he headed straight to the bar to get caught up. When he was eventually next in line to be served, he was more than a little surprised to see Maverick behind the bar.

‘What’re you doing, Mav?’ He asked.

Maverick handed two pints of beer to a young aviator, flashed him a million-dollar smile and then turned on Bradley. ‘Helping Penny,’ he replied. ‘One of her girls called in sick.’

Bradley’s lips quirked. ‘Does this mean I get free beers all night?’

Penny suddenly appeared beside him, a tray of empty glasses in hand. 

‘No, Rooster, it doesn’t. And if Pete wants to keep his balls attached to his body, he’ll agree with me.’

‘Remind me never to get on your bad side.’ Bradley grumbled.

‘There’s a beer in the tap for you, anyway,’ Maverick explained. ‘From Y/CS.’

‘What?’

‘Three beers, actually. She paid for them when she got here, something about getting you back for the sex on the beach.’ Maverick grinned, seemingly pleased that he’d successfully embarrassed his son for all intents and purposes. ‘Hope you used protection.’ 

‘Oh god, Mav. Stop. That’s not what she meant.’

‘I know what she meant,’ he said, pouring Bradley’s beer. ‘She’s drunk already. Phoenix too.’ 

Bradley’s stomach somersaulted. He’d seen you drunk a handful of times, and he was obsessed with the way it made you more confident. 

‘Yeah, that’s my fault.’ 

‘Keep an eye on them, alright?’

‘Always do.’ Bradley saluted him and headed towards your space in the corner. 

Somebody had the good sense to push three high tables together. Much to Bradley’s annoyance, Bob and Mickey had already taken the seats on either side of you. Nat was sitting opposite you like she had at the restaurant, so she saw Bradley before you did. 

‘ROOSTER’S HERE!’ She yelled.

You spun around so fast that you almost slid off your stool. Before Bradley could steady you, Bob was already there with his hand on your arm. 

‘ROOOOOOOOOOO!’ You cried. ‘Did Mav tell you about your drinks?’ 

You weren’t drunk to the point of heavy eyes and slurred speech, but you were the furthest from sober next to Nat. The last empty seat was right at the edge of the tables, next to Jake. Bradley didn’t feel like chatting to him all night, so he picked the stool up and put it at the head of the table by you and Natasha. 

‘Yes, he did. You shouldn’t have, doll.’ 

You practically swooned at the pet name, a reaction Bradley filed away for later. He wondered how else he could make you swoon. 

‘What did I miss?’ He asked, settling himself on his stool.

‘Me and Y/CS duetting Limp Bizkit in Bob’s truck,’ Nat informed him. ‘It was something to behold, really.’ 

‘Penny should start doing karaoke nights,’ you said. ‘Imagine the fun we’d have.’

‘Nobody would want to do karaoke with you, Y/N.’ Bob said. He had two Corona Extra bottles in front of him and a full one in hand. Bradley supposed that you weren’t the only one who needed a bit of Dutch courage tonight. ‘You’d smoke every single one of us with that voice of yours.’ 

You blushed deeply. Mickey and Natasha shared a knowing look, all but confirming Bradley’s suspicions. 

‘He’s not wrong,’ Bradley chimed in. ‘We should get behind the piano later.’

So maybe he was swinging his dick around. Either way, the way your eyes widened at his suggestion was worth feeling like a dick for a couple of seconds.

‘Really?’ 

‘Yeah, it’s been a minute.’ 

‘I’d love that, Roo.’

Nat jumped down from her stool. ‘Let’s get another drink, Y/N. I think Penny wants to talk to us about that thing.’

‘She does? What thing?’

‘The thing,’ Mickey interjected. ‘You know, the surprise for Mav.’

One second, two, three. Then realisation suddenly dawned on you, and you disappeared with

Mickey and Natasha, out of Bradley’s grasp yet again. 

What he wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall during that conversation. 

Natasha led you through the swarm of people around the bar and out to the decking. Part of it was undercover, which is where you stood to keep out of the rain. Clusters of people were huddled underneath the shelter, smoking cigarettes and sharing drinks. Mickey had followed you out, which you found highly amusing. 

‘You’re not one of the girls.’ You toyed, poking him in the chest. 

‘I am tonight. I know what’s going on, and I wanna be involved.’

Nat rolled her eyes so hard they disappeared into the back of her head. ‘You’re such a child, Fanboy.’

‘Oh, let him stay. Maybe it’d help to get a guy’s perspective. He texted me at the restaurant to tell me Rooster was looking at my tits.’

Natasha scowled. ‘Don’t let me hear you say tits, Fanboy. It doesn’t suit you.’

You and Mickey both howled with laughter. ‘That’s exactly what I said!’ 

‘We’re getting off track here,’ Phoenix said, flapping her hands. ‘Pay attention.’

Mickey nodded, face grave. ‘Attention on deck.’ 

‘First of all,’ she started, ignoring his pun. ‘Bradley was looking at your tits. Let’s get that out of the way. Second of all, Bob was also looking at them.’

‘Well, he was trying not to, which made it obvious that that’s where he wanted to look.’ Mickey corrected. 

‘Right.’ Nat agreed.

Heat pooled in the bottom of your tummy. ‘What am I supposed to do with this information?’

  ‘You gotta make a decision.’

‘What if I don’t want to be with anyone right now?’

‘Don’t you?’

It sounded even more stupid out loud. Of course, you wanted to be with someone, but how were you supposed to pick out of the two most incredible guys in the whole world?

‘Why do I have to make a decision now?’

‘Cause they aren’t gonna wait around forever.’ Natasha told you. 

‘Bob might.’ Mickey said, earning him a smack around the back of the head. ‘What the fuck was that for?’

‘Bob has just as much chance of finding someone else as Bradley,’ Natasha chided. ‘Don’t talk down about him.’

‘Right, sorry.’ 

‘Me and Bob are starting a band,’ you blurted out. ‘We’ve been getting close lately, practising and stuff. A few navy guys are coming to his place next week to audition.’ 

‘Oh boy,’ Mickey grinned. ‘You’re starting a navy band and didn’t ask Rooster to join?’

‘His name didn’t even come up,’ you admitted. ‘I doubt he’d wanna be part of it anyway. He’ll probably say it’s lame.’

Nat tucked a loose curl behind your ear. ‘If you think that, you don’t know him at all. He lives and breathes music, and he won’t think it’s lame if you and Bob are there.’

‘If she’s there, you mean.’

Nat raised her hand, and Mickey flinched. ‘I swear to God, your honorary girl membership isn’t gonna mean shit if you say one more word.’

‘Damn.’

‘We should go back inside.’ You said. 

‘Tomorrow, we’re gonna talk about this. Once we’ve dropped Bob off at his truck. You’re not gonna keep getting out of it.’ 

‘Breakfast? What breakfast? Can I come?’ 

‘Fanboy, for fuck’s sake.’ 

Bob was arguing with you over the songs in the jukebox again. A fuzzy feeling had overtaken his body, filling the empty spaces with warmth and giving him confidence he’d never known until now. Sure, he’d been drunk before—well, drunk by his definition—but this was something else entirely. He’d come to the conclusion that even though he was enjoying himself immensely, it wasn’t something he wanted to feel on the regular. He didn’t understand how people did this every weekend. 

‘If you had to pick one song in this jukebox to listen to for the rest of time, what would you pick?’ You asked, leaning against the machine.

Bob scanned the song titles that were becoming so familiar to him that he’d probably be able to recite them in his sleep soon enough. 

‘That’s an impossible question.’ 

You smiled lazily. ‘Come on, Bobby.’

‘You’re expecting me to pick one when there’s The Clash, Bon Jovi, Bruce Springsteen and AC/DC in this jukebox.’ 

‘And Billy Idol. You can’t forget Billy.’ 

‘Exactly my point.’ 

You leaned over to reread the song’s titles. Bob admired the way your hair slipped over your shoulder, brushing the hand he was using to steady himself against the jukebox. You were closer to him now than at the restaurant earlier, and he wished he could bottle your scent and carry it around with him all day. He was obsessed with your perfect, glossed lips and the idea of kissing them. 

His small crush on you wasn’t small right now, and being intoxicated made it harder for him to stop himself from doing something about it. You reached out and pressed the number for Dancing In The Dark before taking his hand in yours—a small feat, maybe, but not to him. Your hand was soft and warm, and he wanted to feel it on his face again, like in his truck. 

‘Where are we going?’ He questioned. 

‘To dance.’ 

‘I can’t dance, Y/N. You know that.’ 

‘Everyone can dance when they’re drunk,’ you reassured him. ‘Just don’t overthink it.’

It was easier said than done, but with your hand in his, his newfound confidence grew three sizes until it was almost too big for his body. You two were something straight out of a movie just then, dancing in a small space you’d found in the middle of the bar, singing along to the lyrics at the same time. 

He respectfully rested a hand on your waist, and you put the hand that wasn’t holding his other one on his shoulder, so you were like ballroom dancers. You sure looked the part, being too overdressed for The Hard Deck; the only thing missing was an actual ability to dance, but you were both too happy to care. Little did you know that Natasha was filming the whole thing on her phone and taking pictures now and then. 

When the song ended, you both waited to see what would play next, but nothing did. Instead, Bob was brought harshly back to reality, to the sounds of glasses clinking and loud chatter. That’s when it dawned on him that the jukebox had been unplugged. Once people realised what was happening, they moved to the piano on the other side of the bar from where you and Bob had been dancing. He hadn’t even noticed Bradley leaving the table to unplug the jukebox or take his seat at the piano because he’d been too wrapped up in your energy, your touch, and the sound of your voice. 

He wasn’t happy to have been interrupted by Rooster yet again, but the idea of hearing you sing properly—not just under your breath while dancing—was highly alluring. 

‘I think it’s piano time.’ You grinned. 

Still holding tightly onto his hand, you weaved your way through the massive crowd to the rest of the daggers, all of whom were at the front, waiting for their friends’ performance. When Bradley saw you, his face broke out into a toothy grin. He’d donned his aviators as per usual, and he watched you walk over to him over top of them like it was just you in the room. 

Bob couldn’t exactly blame him. Most of the time, you were the only person in the room for him, too. 

When Bradley patted the spot on the bench, you hurried yourself, clearly excited to perform. The alcohol was probably helping, as he’d yet to convince you to get behind the instrument sober. 

Bob moved to stand between Natasha and Reuben. 

‘Been having fun?’ Nat quipped. 

‘I was.’

‘Is that a little jealousy I hear in your tone, Floyd?’ 

Reuben nudged him playfully. ‘Come on, man. Phoenix didn’t raise you to sit on the sidelines. If you like Y/CS, don’t just sit around and watch someone else sweep her off her feet.’ 

Keys tinkled as Bradley got reacquainted with the piano. He looked to you earnestly, silently asking if you were ready. In response, you nodded and offered him an anxious but excited smile. 

Bob recognised the song immediately. 

Bradley sang the first verse, and you sang the second. Where his was husky and deliciously rough around the edges, yours was full and velvety. 

Slow down, you crazy child You're so ambitious for a juvenile But then, if you're so smart, tell me Why are you still so afraid?

Where's the fire, what's the hurry about? You better cool it off before you burn it out You got so much to do, and only So many hours in a day

When the chorus came around, both you and Bradley sang together. Paired with his expert piano playing, it was the most beautiful cacophony. Your voices welded together like precious metals, and the result was priceless. 

But you know that when the truth is told That you can get what you want Or you can just get old You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through  When will you realise, Vienna waits for you?

You were bouncing off one another. When Bradley sang louder, you sang louder. When Bradley’s voice deepened, it made yours sound more angelic. When you held a particularly long and high note towards the end of the song, Bradley stopped singing altogether to give you and your voice a very deserving moment in the spotlight. Everyone around the piano was singing along, even Bob. He was helpless to stop the urge. Bradley’s stage presence was infectious, even when you weren’t performing with him, but there was something about you singing Billy Joel that made it virtually impossible not to join in. It wasn’t just the song or the fact that you were singing it, but the apparent joy that performing brought you and Bradley. Someone would have to be deaf and blind not to notice it. 

Bob was half considering asking Bradley to join the band. He was talented, and Bob could see that he’d be an asset, what with how much you loved singing with him. 

But that was also the problem, wasn’t it? 

He hadn’t even wanted to be in the band, but now he was protective of the whole idea. He didn’t want band practice to become another place where he competed for your attention and affection. 

Bradley managed an expert transition from Vienna straight into his usual crowd-pleaser, Great Balls of Fire. Bob had no idea how he’d managed it, but he had, and the crowd roared with delight. Mickey and Javy—who had somehow overtaken you and Nat and currently held the position of the drunkest daggers—were jumping around like maniacs. Bob, Nat, Jake and Reuben were laughing amongst themselves, totally distracted by their shenanigans. 

As a result, Bob missed the smouldering look that you and Bradley shared, the way you reached up and stole his aviators with a wink, all while never missing a word of the song. He was singing at you, and you were singing at him. Now, not only were you the only ones in The Hard Deck, but you were also the only ones left on planet Earth. 

It was gone 1 AM when the cab pulled up in front of your home. Stars twinkled in the night sky—looking much like your dress—and your front garden was bathed in moonlight. It had been a night for the ages, but as brilliant of a time you’d had, you were looking forward to taking off your boots and putting your pyjamas on. 

Natasha seemed to share your sentiment—she’d taken her shoes off in the cab and walked up your front path in her socks, trainers swinging absentmindedly from her hand. You were glad she was spending the night because you felt you needed an entire debrief after the evening’s events. 

Bob’s presence was perhaps more exciting than the prospect of gossiping and making breakfast with Nat. He was drunker than you’d ever seen him, humming to himself as he led you to your front door. He held your arm to keep you steady, and the contact felt out of this world. 

‘Bobbyyyy—’ you slurred. ‘Please, can you get my house key out of my bag? I don’t think I have any base brain functions.’

He laughed, taking your bag off your shoulder to find your house key. ‘I knew I should’ve stopped Seresin when he started ordering shots.’

‘Nah. That might have been the best idea he’s ever had.’

‘I think we’re gonna have to agree to disagree on this one.’

You and Bob were standing on your porch with the front door open. He gestured to Natasha, who was doubled over next to your rosebushes. 

‘Example A.’ He smirked.

You facepalmed. ‘Not the fucking roses, Nix!’ 

She heaved once, twice, then promptly threw up. You started down the steps, but Bob reached out and grabbed your arm again. 

‘You can’t even stand up straight,’ he said. ‘Go inside, I’ll get her.’ 

‘Yes, sir.’ 

You stumbled through to the kitchen, turning lights on as you went. The air in your house still smelled like the autumn candle you’d been burning earlier and clean laundry. At heart, you were a homebody. Nothing was more satisfying than returning to a clean, organised space, cooking a meal and watching a movie tucked under blankets after a long day. It was rare for you to enjoy a night out like this, to be the one begging everyone to stay for one more drink. The atmosphere had been charged tonight, especially at The Hard Deck. When you’d performed ‘Vienna’ with Bradley, it had been like touching a live wire. The current still reverberated through your body, and your body ached from unused energy. 

In the time it took Bob to get Natasha inside, you poured three glasses of water, added some ice, and nearly tripped over your own feet. She looked a bit worse for wear, but it was nothing that some aspirin and long rest wouldn’t fix. 

‘I think you two should get upstairs to bed.’ Bob said sternly.

‘Okay, dad.’ Nat sniggered. ‘You gonna tuck us in?’

‘Well, I just held your hair back while you threw up, so we’ve already crossed a line.’

‘Girls do that for each other all the time,’ you said. ‘It’s normal.’

‘But I’m not a girl.’

Nat wagged an accusing finger at him. ‘You know what, if Fanboy was here, he’d have appreciated that. He loves being one of the girls.’

‘So true,’ you murmured in agreement. ‘Bob, you’re being ungrateful.’

‘For what?’

‘Your hon-honourary girl membership.’ You said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

‘Alright, let’s go. Get your waters.’ 

Both of you did as you were told but weren’t happy about it. You headed towards the staircase, Bob following close behind. He turned lights off as he went, ever thoughtful. 

Upstairs, Nat collapsed face-first onto your bed. You rummaged through your chest of drawers for three sets of pyjamas while Bob switched your lamps on and closed your blinds. 

‘Bobby, are you okay with one of my oversized band tees?’ You asked.

When he didn’t answer, you spun around. He was perched on the edge of your bed, the photo frame you kept on your side in his hand. He was cradling it like it was worth a million dollars, eyes misty and far away. It was a photograph of you and him on the carrier after the special detachment mission when everyone had gone out to meet Maverick and Rooster. There seemed always to be people taking pictures in moments like those, and when you’d seen this one, you had to frame it. You and Bob were standing facing one another, faces bright with triumph and relief. He cradled your tear-streaked face in his hands, and you were both laughing in disbelief that you were together again. 

‘You keep this next to your bed?’ He whispered. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you said: ‘Of course I do.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you’re my best friend, and I like it being the first thing I see when I wake up in the mornings.’ 

Bob set the photo down gently. He seemed to be having a hard time breathing. ‘One of your T-shirts will be fine, thanks.’ 

Natasha sat up, rubbing her head. ‘You guys are so cute,’ she said. ‘Do you want me to sleep in the guest room?’ 

Your eyes flew to Bob. He was playing with his hands, clearly still stuck on the photograph. 

‘No, Nix. You should sleep in here with me in case you choke on your vomit.’ You threw a pair of Spongebob pyjamas at her. ‘Go put those on.’ 

‘Both of you are so bossy.’ She grumbled. ‘You’re perfect for each other.’

She padded across your bedroom floor and out into the hallway. Once you heard the bathroom door close, you sat next to Bob on the edge of the bed.

‘It’s a Radiohead t-shirt.’ You informed him. ‘I don’t think any of my pyjama pants will be long enough for you.’ 

He took the shirt and set it on your pillow, ignoring the unsaid words that hung in the air like rain clouds. It was all you could do to sit still when Bob took his glasses off and ran his fingers through his sandy hair. 

‘Thank you for letting me stay,’ he said quietly. ‘And for the shirt.’

You looked at him earnestly, waiting for him to meet your eye. ‘Thank you for existing.’

His leg bounced nervously. When you laid a hand atop his thigh to stop it, his eyes darted to and from your face so fast you almost missed it. There was no way you were letting him shy away from this time. 

‘Bobby, look at me.’ You pleaded.

He did as you asked with some difficulty, and you were met with a hesitant gaze. 

You touched the middle of his head with your index finger. ‘What’s going on in there?’

He leaned against your hand, smiling bashfully like a child. ‘It’s a secret.’ 

‘We don’t keep secrets.’

It seemed like he was going to spill his guts for a moment, but then he stood up. He grabbed your t-shirt, pausing above you.

‘Get some sleep, Y/N. I’ll see you in the morning.’

And with that, he took himself off to the guest room, leaving your heart racing and your head spinning. When Natasha returned, you were still staring at the doorframe, desperately trying to figure out what had just happened. It seemed like Bob was upset with you. 

‘What happened?’

‘I think Bob’s angry with me.’ 

‘Why?’

You picked up the picture frame and handed it to her. ‘He was looking at this, and I tried to talk to him—see if I could see what was going on in his head—and he couldn’t even look at me. He told me to go to sleep.’

Nat’s brows knitted together in confusion. ‘I don’t think he’s upset with you.’

‘He is.’

‘No, he’s not. Hear me out: he’s in love with you, and most of the time, you guys act like more than best friends. Short of sleeping together, you’re basically already a couple. Then, tonight, you have that moment with Bradley—’

‘It-’

Nat held a hand up. ‘Don’t deny it, we all saw it. There’s chemistry there.’ She insisted. ‘Bob’s probably super confused because he can see it too, and then he comes here and sees this. The poor guy probably doesn’t know whether he’s coming or going.’ 

Your heart withered in your chest at the realisation. ‘He’s in love with me.’

‘Yes, Y/N, and you need to do something about it. If you think you might feel the same way, you need to stop fucking around with Rooster and give it a shot with Bob. Or, you need to let Bob down gently because otherwise, someone is gonna get seriously hurt.’ 

God, how you wished it were that simple. You took the clips from your hair and kicked off your boots while Natasha took her makeup off at your vanity. All seriousness put aside, it did feel a lot like the kinds of sleepovers you had with your friends in high school. 

‘Nix, can you unzip my dress?’

‘Damn, now you’re trying it on with me too?’

You laughed. ‘You make me sound like a whore.’

‘I mean, if the shoe fits…’

You grabbed one of your throw pillows and launched it at her. She squealed with laughter, jumping up to grab her own pillow. After dealing a few revenge blows, she unzipped your dress for you. 

Breathless from laughter, you said: ‘Hangman would have a field day if he saw us.’

‘When he asks how our sleepover was on Monday morning, we should tell him we had a pillow fight in lingerie.’ Natasha grinned devilishly. 

‘He won’t be able to focus on his manoeuvres.’

‘Good, then I’ll beat him all day.’ 

Natasha crawled into your bed and propped herself up on your throw pillows. You went through the motions of your night routine, taking off your makeup and changing into pyjamas. It was gone 2 AM by the time you got into bed. You had lots to think about. Natasha was right about somebody getting hurt if you didn’t do something soon. She’d told you everything you needed to hear except what you were supposed to do about it. 

Why couldn’t there be a blueprint, a map that showed you which path to follow and where you’d end up? 

As you drifted off to sleep, you thought about band auditions with Bob on Tuesday afternoon and the expression on his face when he’d seen the picture on your bedside. But this wasn’t all you thought about. You couldn’t help but reminisce about your performance with Bradley and the pure, unadulterated joy you felt while singing with him at the piano. 

Rain pelted against the roof of Bob’s garage. The weather had been awful the last couple of days, the build-up to the storm that had been forecasted for San Diego. Bob loved being cosied up inside when it was storming and falling asleep to the comforting sound of rain. What he didn’t love was the fact that it kept the dagger squad grounded and bored at work. Sure, there were other things to get on with, but he preferred being airborne. 

It had been a tedious week thus far. The only thing getting him through it had been the prospect of band auditions this evening. Considering he didn’t even want to start a band to begin with, he was in his element now. You and Bob were sitting on the sofa in his garage, leaning forward in your seats as you listened to Elliot Green play bass with expert precision. Elliot was one of the air and space operations guys, and he’d seen the poster you’d made on his way to work one morning. Bob wasn’t sure anyone would notice your posters, even though you’d spent ages creating them. 

He’d never been happier to have been wrong about something because Elliot was a natural on the bass. He was precisely the kind of person you needed for the band, and Bob could tell from the glint in your eye that you felt the same.

When he was finished, you both gave him a hearty applause. Elliot was tall and lean, with sandy blonde hair slightly longer than Bob’s and glasses. At work, he wore the same glasses as Bob, but he had a different pair for out of hours. These were round with tortoiseshell rims, and Bob couldn’t help but think Elliot was an artsier version of him. 

‘Well,’ you said dreamily. ‘I don’t think Bob and I need to discuss anything.’

‘No, we don’t.’

‘The spot is yours if you want it.’ You beamed.

Elliot’s blinked behind his glasses, taken aback. ‘Isn’t there anyone else trying out?’

‘Not for bass,’ Bob explained. ‘We've got someone else coming over in the next hour, but he’s trying out for guitar.’

‘You wanna stay?’ You offered. ‘Since you’re part of the band now, it might be a good idea.’

‘Yeah, sure.’ He smiled. ‘Thanks, guys. I’m excited.’

Not even half an hour later, Fletcher Adams showed up with the sexiest-looking guitar Bob had ever seen. It was a matte black Strat, and it suited him perfectly, what with his slicked-back raven hair, grey eyes, and sharp jawline. He introduced himself as Fletcher, but you and Bob knew him as something else. 

Fletcher Adams. Callsign: Phantom. 

He was part of another squadron, and although Bob didn’t know him well, Phantom’s reputation preceded him. If Bob weren’t part of a better squadron than Fletcher, he’d have found him intimidating. 

‘Thanks for having me, guys.’ Fletcher said. ‘I’ve been fixing to join a band for a while now, but there’s not much happening in the San Diego music scene.’ 

Somehow, Bob found that hard to believe. As you grabbed a cherry coke from the mini fridge, Fletcher eyed you like you were something to eat. If he’d wanted a bandmate with a massive crush on his best friend, he’d have called Bradley up.

‘Let’s see what you’ve got.’ Bob said, gesturing towards the guitar. 

Fletcher made a ballsy choice for his audition song: Master of Puppets by Metallica. Part of Bob had hoped that Fletcher was shit at guitar, but he was anything but. It was as if his instrument was an extension of his body, the strings extensions of his fingers. If that wasn’t enough, he played the most challenging part of the song with his eyes closed in bliss. 

It appeared the band was complete. 

Before wrapping things up for the night, you all made plans for the same time and place on Friday night to start putting some songs together. You also pooled all your equipment and made a short list of things you were missing. Everyone contributed, and you and Bob arranged a trip into the city over the weekend to get the last few bits you needed.

The whole thing had come together remarkably quickly, perhaps too quickly for Bob’s liking. At work, he was trained to keep his cool in stressful situations. It was different then, when he could use his nervous energy for problem-solving and quick thinking. He wasn’t unused to feeling like a fish out of water, but this was the furthest from the pond he’d ever been. Bob liked to keep his head below the parapet where it was less likely to get cut off. He stayed off the radar and made as little noise as possible, but starting a band was the exact opposite of that. 

And falling in love with you was the noisiest thing he’d ever done.

A/N: Part two is finally here! This fic isn't doing as well as I thought it would, but I'm still going to finish it because I'm enjoying writing it. I guess my uni professor was right in saying that the projects you're super attached to are the worst received. I have such big plans for the next parts, and it's kind of writing itself at this point. I have no idea whether the reader ends up with Bob or Bradley, so I'll be just as surprised as you guys!

Taglist: @dearsnow

[maxverstappendefender]

christmas on the grid // multi driver (mv1, ln4, cl16, cs55, op81)

description: what i think some of the drivers' christmases look like. basically just christmas headcannons

a/n: sorry for the postponed post, finals week ended up being way more difficult than i thought it would be! enjoy the fic and merry early christmas to those that celebrate. trying something new with the gradient text as well, lmk if you like or dislike it! part of my december fic series called winter in the fast lane. header is from here.

masterlist

winter in the fast lane masterlist

mv¹

could not care less for christmas but still decorates and does all the stuff for it to make it feel somewhat special for those around him

decorates his tree only above a certain height so the cats don't destroy it

takes forever wrapping gifts since he wants them to be perfectly wrapped

writes down things that loved ones point out that they want throughout the year to get them as gifts for christmas

would much rather just do a vacation somewhere with snow than stay at home for christmas

ln⁴

loves christmas, like absolutely loves it

definitely uses colored lights and is very festive

would throw holiday parties as often as possible

buys expensive gifts but wraps them horribly

eats things that are being baked/cooked and loses privileges to the kitchen after enough mishaps

cl¹⁶

likes christmas and loves spending it in monaco with family

keeps his decorating to a minimal but it is done stunningly

buys leo more gifts than anyone else

loves giving gifts to people and is very sentimental and thoughtful with his gifts

loves christmas lights and puts them up everywhere. usually leaves them up until at least march because he can't bring himself to take them down

cs⁵⁵

doesn't necessarily like christmas but he likes the quality time spent with loved ones that the holidays bring

is the prime person in the kitchen cooking food for his family

will rate the christmas cookies made out of 10 since he is a 'professional'

enjoys christmas music very much but will never admit it

sends family christmas cards out every year

op⁸¹

enjoys christmas but prefers to spend it somewhere with snow

makes homemade christmas cards for close ones and everyone in the garage

loves his hot chocolate (iykyk) and has a whole hot chocolate making bar

prefers to just watch christmas movies at home rather than go out and do things for the holidays

would wear matching christmas pajamas, he's reluctant at first but gets used to them within 5 minutes

[snowbellewells]

@booksteaandtoomuchtv Ooh, I have been anxious and excited to come back to this story and see what was happening, to find out if Emma escaped Pan’s clutches and if Killian would hopefully find her before the Lost Ones did. I had to force myself to read slowly and not gobble this all down as fast as I could like an irresistible treat!!

I really like how the first section has the wavery, uncertain quality of a dream to it. Just as Emma is somewhat lost in her dream/nightmare, it feels like we are floating along with her, and it is really effective at sweeping us up in her emotions and an making her feel the unease and fear that she does. And then that voice tells her she is safe, that she is alright. I love that section - it’s absolutely my favorite part of the chapter: “The softly accented voice reached through her dreams again, wrapping around her as warm and comforting as a well-loved blanket. Emma yearned to snuggle into the melody of that low voice. In that strange way of dreams, she suddenly felt certain that the voice could protect her from the painful reality that waited to greet her upon waking. If she could just melt into it, maybe it would prevent her from losing that feeling she’d spent a lifetime chasing.”

I also loved how she charged up onto the deck when she woke, ready to defend herself with just his letter opener and whatever bravado she could gather about herself. Killian is clearly impressed and affected too, and I adored his wanting to teach her any way to fight and defend herself that she’d wish to learn. Not to mention how he catches her to him to keep her from hurting him, but how he also is keeping her safe too. I just can’t wait to see what is building between these two and what will happen next!!

Burn The Ships (3/?)

A HUGE THANK YOU TO @snowbellewells FOR THIS INCREDIBLE ART. I wish I knew how to best express how amazing it feels to have someone make art for something I wrote. It is just the best feeling in the world. <3

THIS IS/WILL BE MATURE.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | ???

Tagging: @anmylica, @deckerstarblanche, @elfiola, @goforlaunchcee, @jrob64, @kmomof4, @pirateswhore, @stahlop, @teamhook, @tiganasummertree, @undercaffinatednightmare, @xarandomdreamx, @zaharadessert (let me know if you want to be added or dropped)

Exhaustion did not lovingly pull Emma into a peaceful oblivion where she could rest and forget. Rather, it dragged her into a brutal storm - the howling winds tore at her, the thunder rumbled threateningly deep in her bones, and emotions best forgotten rained down on her. She was alone, abandoned on the edge of a forest. The cold rain seeped into her bones, having already soaked through her clothing, as she stumbled forward toward… nothing. She had no place to call home. 

In the way of dreams, Emma blinked and was on a beach. Her body ached as if she’d been walking for days. She wasn’t sure where she was going but walked on as waves pummelled the shoreline. It seemed she wasn’t alone, apparently, the storm would accompany her through these strange dreams. 

She turned toward the turbulent waters and her next step landed on a wooden board. Her stomach plummeted as the ship was thrown from the rolling sea. Emma desperately reached out, trying to find something to keep her on the deck as the ship leaned dangerously into the water. The boards were too wet, the sea too hungry for new souls… Emma was being sucked under the water, lungs screaming for air. 

I’ve got you. 

Cool, crisp air filled her lungs. She was back on the deck of a ship, once more. The angry onslaught of violent waves had given way to playful swells that lapped gently against the hull. No other soul was aboard the ship, but Emma felt contented rather than alone. A word, a feeling, that had never carried meaning to her wrapped itself around her heart followed by a consuming fear - panic - it would be taken away.

You’re safe, love.

The softly accented voice reached through her dreams again, wrapping around her as warm and comforting as a well-loved blanket. Emma yearned to snuggle into the melody of that low voice. In that strange way of dreams, she suddenly felt certain that the voice could protect her from the painful reality that waited to greet her upon waking. If she could just melt into it, maybe it would prevent her from losing that feeling she’d spent a lifetime chasing. 

Rest now.

And, at long last, with that voice and that feeling wrapped around her heart, Emma rested. §§§§    §§§§    §§§§    §§§§

The white wolf had been stunning, her fur seemed to shimmer with its own light source. But the woman who stormed out of his cabin the next morning was a sight to behold. 

With her blonde waves flowing behind her and her emerald eyes wild, this wild woman charged onto the deck armed with only his letter opener and a lot of swagger. She acted as though she were a rival captain set on commandeering his ship rather than a damsel recently rescued from Pan’s clutches. She had taken the liberty of procuring clothing from his wardrobe before launching her assault, the deep plunging necklines of his shirts and the way his soft leather trousers wrapped around her curves distracting him long enough for her to strike out with her borrowed weapon. 

Killian captured her wrist and forced her to release the letter opener in a quick motion. He’d offer to teach her how to properly wield any weapon of her choosing once they were better acquainted. Perhaps sometime after he was certain that he wasn’t in danger of finding the weapon buried somewhere in his flesh. 

 Sighing at her newest attempts to claw at his leather coat, he pulled her closer.

“I’m not your enemy,” he murmured to her as he wrapped his arms around her, pinning her arms to her side to prevent her from continuing her attack. He tried to focus on calming her and gaining control of the situation rather than the way she felt in his arms and the way her scent stirred something deep within him.

“You’re safe, love,” he soothed. The woman stilled. 

Her frantic breathing slowed and the tension slipped from her limbs. The ocean lapping on the hull and their breathing were the only sounds for a few moments. It could have been romantic…if the situation were entirely different. 

“If you promise to behave, I will let you go.”  

She stared at him with frustration burning brightly behind her eyes. Her wildness and defiance stoked a desire in him - and his wolf - that he was becoming more difficult to ignore with every minute he spent in her presence. 

After a moment, during which she held his gaze with hers as if trying to determine the trick in his offer, she nodded in agreement with his terms. He reluctantly released her. 

The loss of contact left him desperate for any excuse to hold her again. He suppressed the whine his wolf let loose with a clearing of his throat. Then, with a bit of a flourish, he introduced himself to her. 

“I am Captain Killian Jones and you’re aboard the Jolly Roger. You are welcome on my ship for as long as you wish.” 

“HOOK?! You’re Captain Hook?” She wasn’t afraid of him, which seemed promising. Doesn’t mean she will love someone like you. Killian shoved away the taunting voice of his father and smiled at her as if she had said something particularly flattering. 

“Ah, so you have heard of me.”

She looked at him flatly, clearly not impressed with his antics. “Is this ship enchanted?” The abrupt question was a bit unexpected. Of course, the Jolly Roger was enchanted - to keep a course he set, to alert him of guests aboard his ship, to hide treasures from unwelcome eyes - but the enchantments were subtle and not something that should be so easily detected. 

He cocked an eyebrow to conceal his surprise. “I’m not giving secrets away to a lass who hasn’t given me her name.”

“Oh, so it is enchanted.” She looked around as if the spell work would reveal itself to her. She took a few deep breaths, frowned a bit, breathed in again, and turned back to look at him. “Emma Swan.” 

“Why are you sniffing my ship,” he hesitated before deciding with certainty, “Swan?” He smiled, the name fit her perfectly - and felt so right leaving his lips.

“Better question. Why would you use magic to make it smell so… incredible?” 

Killian scratched a spot behind his ear. What was the correct way to tell someone who woke up on a strange ship and wasn’t sure if you were another threat in the never-ending nightmare of Neverland or a possible ally that the scent they thought was part of a strange enchantment was a sign that they were in the presence of their mate? It seemed a lot to ask of anyone without adding that she had been Pan’s prisoner for some length of time before becoming the target of the most recent hunt. 

“The incredible smell of salt and fish?” Smee grumbled. A few of the crew laughed. Emma looked thoroughly confused. Killian wasn’t sure if her confusion was at his comment or at the sudden realisation that they had an audience for this little episode. 

Seeing as he’d completely forgotten his men still on the deck, he figured it was likely a bit of both. He did not want an audience for whatever was to follow.

“That’s enough from you, Mr Smee. There is a deck that needs to be swabbed.” Hook growled out. Grumbling, Smee stomped down the stairs to the main deck. The other crewmen fell into their own tasks and responsibilities understanding the example being made of the first mate. 

Emma watched all of this with a small frown on her face.

Once they were alone on the quarterdeck, she focused her piercing emerald gaze at Killian. “Do you think he really doesn’t smell that…?” 

Killian shook his head and answered softly, gently, “No, love, I don’t believe he smells anything but the sea.” 

She narrowed her eyes at him, “But…you, you smell it?” The words sounded as though she were begging him to confirm that she hadn’t taken leave of all of her senses. 

“Aye.” He confirmed with a small smile. 

Her eyes widened, panic flashing momentarily before several other emotions followed in quick succession. “Oh.”

Killian winced. “Aye.”

[horanghaejamjam]

Hallows Eve - {CS}

↪ Summary: Your friends trick you into doing a Halloween ritual that’s supposed to summon a demon. You never believed in demons but do it anyway just to please them. Needless to say you didn’t expect it to work, nor did you expect yourself to end up trapped in the underworld by a demon wishing to claim you as his.

↪ Pairings: Demon prince San x Female presenting reader

↪   Rating: M 18+

↪   Genre: Fluff/Smut/Demon Au/Arranged Marriage/S2L

↪   Word Count: 3.8k

↪ Warnings/Contents: Smut (MDNI), Hard dom/possessive San, Power dynamics (Use of "sir" and "brat"), corruption, unprotected sex marking/biting, multiple orgasms, and body worship, aftercare and San being super soft at the end.

↪ Side Notes: PLEASE READ: This is a collab fic with @kpopidolsangel and is also a submission for the @atinyhalloweenproject this one is for the lovely @kpop-stories-21

Angel came up with the concept as well as made the banner and wrote the first half of this fic. However due to a family emergency she was unable to finish it and asked me to take over the story. All credit to the idea goes to her. I also apologize for the delay on this one and I hope it was worth the wait!

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There is a common legend that makes its way through your town every October. The legend goes that if you go into the woods at midnight, light a jack-o'-lantern, and recite an ancient poem, that you can summon a deity known as The Demon of the Hallows. The legend then states that anyone who summons him with a kind spirit will be blessed with a special gift, but those without a kind spirit would never be heard from again. You wouldn’t call yourself a skeptic or anything but you were never one to humor the legend. It was something you brushed off as a dumb story high school kids used to scare their friends or younger siblings. Needless to say, never in a million years did you expect to find yourself standing in the middle of the woods with a poorly carved jack-o'-lantern and a lighter. Your friends were hiding behind the trees a few feet away from you, not wanting to take any chances in case this ritual did end up working. 

This had all started during a Halloween party you were attending with your friends. Yunho had been the one to bring up the legend to which Mingi and Wooyoung had insisted that you try it, just to see what would happen. They agreed you had to be the one to do it since you were the most “normal” out of the friend group and before you knew it you were being dragged out of the party and into the woods, Wooyoung stealing one of the carved pumpkins from the porch so you could complete the ritual. 

It was completely dark out, with the moon being the only source of light, barely allowing you to make out the shadows of your friends from where you stood. Your rather thin vampire costume doing very little to shield you from the cold fall breeze, and you didn’t bring a jacket as you hadn’t planned on going outside. Your dress fluttered in the wind and tickled at your legs as you shivered and rubbed at your arm to try and stay warm. 

“This is ridiculous!” you called back, “can’t we just go home, it’s freezing out here!” 

“What’s the matter?” you heard Wooyoung call back to you, “are you scared it will work?”

“I’m not scared of a demon, I'm scared of freezing to death!” you argued back which caused the boys to laugh. 

“You’re so dramatic!” Yunho teased. 

“We only have two minutes until midnight, just do it!” Mingi added. You really wanted to just leave them there and run back to the house, but you knew you would never hear the end of it if you did. 

“You guys are so dead once this is over,” you groaned, setting the pumpkin down on the ground and waiting for the cue to start. Once Wooyoung gave you the go ahead you quickly lit the candle inside the pumpkin and recited the poem as best as you could remember it. The light from the candle flickered in the wind as you waited a moment to see if anything would happen. As expected, nothing did and you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes as you stood up and dusted yourself off. “I told you guys it wouldn’t work, can we go now?” you called out, only to be met with silence. “Guys?” you tried looking around but you could no longer see the shadows of your friends. You knew they couldn’t have left that quickly without you hearing or seeing them, so your first instinct was that they were hiding from you just to scare you. “Really funny, come on guys I want to go back,” you said, walking over to the tree only to realize there was no one there. The woods fell eerily silent as you began to panic, calling out for your friends and looking around only to find that no one was there, you were completely alone. 

“Why so scared little one?” you quickly turned around to see a figure standing in front of the jack-o'-lantern where you had just been. He stood just a bit taller than you, with wide shoulders and a slim but toned waist. His hair was long, mostly black but you could see white peeking out at the bottom, the strands perfectly slicked back behind two black ram-like horns. He was wearing a black suit with red trim and gold embellishments that matched the gold headpiece he was wearing. Tucked behind him you could just make out the outline of batlike wings, resting against his shoulders. His eyes were sharp as he looked at you, and when you moved closer you could see the red color and cat-like pupil, the charcoal style makeup he was wearing only served to help accentuate his features. If you weren’t intimidated by his presence, you would have found him to be insanely beautiful. 

“I-who are you?” you stuttered out as you walked over to him, causing him to chuckle. 

“You are the one who called me here and yet you don’t know who I am?” he questioned, clearly amused by the situation. You, on the other hand, were terrified as you struggled to form a proper sentence. 

“Wait so you are The Demon of the Hallows? I didn’t think you were real!” you confessed. 

“That’s the name people gave me over the years, but I find that title much too formal,” he mused, “call me San.” You blinked at him in confusion as he moved closer until he was only a foot or so in front of you, smirking to himself as he took a moment to look over you. “You really didn’t believe in me did you? Poor thing, I can sense your confusion from miles away,” he cooed with another laugh, “let me guess you were tricked into doing this weren’t you? Your friends dragged you out here then ran away at the first sign of danger?” Your eyes widened at his observation, staring down at the ground while you played with the hem of your dress. 

“How did you know that?”

“My Sweet Y/N I’ve ruled over these parts for centuries, I know everything. Also you wouldn’t be the first pure soul to find yourself in this predicament,” he explained, reaching a hand out to brush your hair out of your face. You flinched slightly from the sudden contact, but you couldn't deny there was a strange warmth behind his touch, a welcome sensation that nearly had you leaning against his hand as he pulled away. “I must say,” he confessed, “of everyone who has called upon me, you are definitely the most beautiful, and the most innocent. You are exactly what I have been looking for.” With a pleased smile, he stood up straight and offered you his hand, which you took after a moment of hesitation, “Come with me, it’s time I show you your new home.”

“New home?” you questioned, “what do you mean new home? And what do you mean I’m what you’ve been looking for?” 

“I have waited years for the right soul to turn up, to complete me and help tie me to the mortal world and I have finally found it,” San explained as he tugged you along, “you my darling, are going to be my bride.”

ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ

You don’t remember much of what happened after San pulled you away, almost as if you had blacked out. When you woke up, you found yourself tucked into a large bed, having been changed out of your costume and into a red silk nightgown. Your hair was also down and brushed out and your makeup had been removed. You sat up slowly, hugging the black comforter against your body and taking a moment to look around the room. It was a large master bedroom, mainly decorated with black, red, and gold. The bed was on a carved wooden frame with a swirling pattern carved into it at the base. There were also black curtains surrounding the frame that were currently tied up to allow you to see the rest of the room. There were no windows, all the light coming from the chandelier that hung over the middle of the room, casting a warm glow into the otherwise black room. The rest of the furniture that you could see was the same carved wood as the bed frame, and the room was decorated with various paintings and trinkets. 

“I was wondering when you would wake up,” turning your head, you gasped as you saw San standing against the door, “I know the transition to here isn’t the smoothest, but I was starting to worry I may have lost you.”

“Where am I?” you questioned, curling up as much as you could. San looked no different than when you first saw him, and yet his gaze made you feel tiny. 

“You’re home,” he explained as he made his way to the foot of the bed, “and this is your new bedroom. Do you like it? I can always redecorate for you if you want me to.” The warmth in his voice didn’t match his gaze which sent shivers down your body. You weren’t sure whether you wanted to fear him or find comfort in him. 

“I don’t understand,” you whispered, causing him to smile. 

“I know you’re still confused, don’t worry it will all make sense soon enough,” he promised, “for now I want to take this time to really get to know you before I claim you as mine.” You were frozen in place as you watched him remove his suit jacket, his wings practically vanishing to avoid getting in the way. He tossed the garment carelessly to the side, rolling up his sleeves and unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt before climbing onto the bed and making his way over to you. You gasped as the comforter was removed and you were pinned to the bed, San crawling on top of you and resting his weight on your hips to keep you from moving. Your arms were pulled above your head, San pinning them above you before snapping his fingers and leaning back. You felt a cold metal appear around your wrists and glanced up to see black chains connecting you to the bedpost, the metal jingling lightly as you tugged at the new restraint. 

“Can’t have you running away now can we?” San teased, “I really did want to take my time with you at first but you have no idea how long I have been waiting for this moment. I don’t plan on waiting any longer.” With that he leaned down and connected your lips in a rough but passionate kiss, biting at your lip as his hands eagerly explored your body. You were frozen in place at first, taken aback by the rough movements. You weren’t a virgin by any means, but most of your previous sexual experiences had been rather vanilla so this was a brand new experience for you. Eventually you were able to melt into him, slowly starting to kiss back and react which earned you a pleased hum from San. His hands trailed back up to the neckline of your nightgown and he quickly ripped the fabric from your body as his tongue slipped its way into your mouth. You gasped at the sudden chill that ran down your body, only to moan as you felt his hands return to your chest. 

“Look at you,” he groaned as he pulled away from the kiss, “such a pretty innocent thing in such a sinful position, I love it.” His fingers pinched at your nipples which had you arching your back and moaning softly. 

“San please,” you whined out, tugging weakly on your restraints. San gave you a questioning look and clicked his tongue, pinching your nipple harder to make you squirm. 

“What did you just call me?” he asked, before you could answer he reached up and grabbed your chin to make sure you were looking at him. “As much as I love to hear you beg for me, you are only allowed to address me as Sir, understood?” You nodded as best as you could with his grip on you which only made him huff, “Use your words brat.”

“Yes Sir,” you muttered out, making him smirk. 

“Good, now lay still and behave while I claim what’s mine!” He let go of your face and repositioned himself, gripping your thighs tightly and spreading them so he could fit between them. You knew you were going to have bruises later, but that didn’t matter right now as San began trailing kisses up your leg. He trailed kisses up the inside of your thigh before biting down, relishing in the way you gasped and squirmed against his touch. He sucked on the spot until he was sure a mark was formed before running his tongue across it and moving to the other thigh to give it the same treatment. He continued the action multiple times until your thighs were visibly covered in bite marks, each time relishing in the noise you made at the combination of pain and pleasure. You tried closing your legs but his grip tightened every time you moved to keep them open, forcing you to lay still until he was satisfied with his work. 

“You look so much prettier covered in my marks, maybe next time I’ll try spelling my name” he hummed, placing one last kiss on the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to your core but not quite where you needed him. The teasing made you whine which in turn caused him to chuckle. “Since you were so good for me, I’ll give you a little reward, tell Sir what you want,” he cooed, tracing his fingers across your hip.

“I want you to touch me,” you begged without hesitation, “please Sir I’ll continue to be good just please touch me!” 

“I know you will,” San muttered, reaching a hand down and running a finger teasingly between your folds, “already so wet and I’ve barely even touched you. I don’t know if you’ll be able to handle much more.” You were about to argue that you could when he slid a finger into you, wasting no time before moving at a moderate pace. Within seconds he had found that special spot inside of you, making you cry out as he rubbed against it every time he inserted his finger. “So sensitive and so tight,” San mused, inserting another finger, “I am going to absolutely ruin you.” Your moans grew louder as his pace quickened, making a scissoring motion with his fingers and adding a third to thoroughly stretch you out. You started bucking your hips and grinding against his hand as you felt your orgasm approaching, desperate for release. San noticed this, chuckling to himself as he pressed his free hand on your lower stomach to keep you from moving. The action also made you feel the pressure of his fingers more and pushed you over the edge before you could find the words to warn him. 

Sans pace never faltered as you rode out your orgasm, pushing you into overstimulation before quickly removing himself from you entirely. You whined at the sudden loss of contact, bucking your hips into the air as you tried to catch your breath and come down from your high. 

“I’m disappointed I thought you said you would behave,” San said flatly as he wiped his fingers off on his shirt. You watched as he crawled away from you and off of the bed and for a moment you were worried that he was going to leave you like that. Broken apologies fell from your mouth combined with pleas for him not to stop as you tugged painfully at the chains holding you down. San relished in your begging before quickly silencing you with a wave of his hand, “Because this is our first time I will be nice just this once, but I don’t want to hear any complaints if I continue, got it?” “Yes Sir I promise,” you reply almost immediately. You hear San mutter something under his breath briefly before you suddenly feel the chains around your wrists disappear. 

“Can’t have you hurting yourself,” he explained, undoing his pants and kicking them off before climbing back on top of you, “besides, you’ll probably want to hold on for this.” You do as he suggested and wrap your arms around his neck as you feel his tip at your entrance. “Keep your eyes on me,” he ordered, placing one hand by your head to hold himself up as the other helped guide his length into you. It was hard not to let your eyes roll back as you felt him stretch you, feeling fuller than you ever did with your past partners. San groaned softly as he bottomed out, letting his eyes flutter shut for a moment as he felt your walls squeeze around him. It took everything in his power not to just pin you down and rail you right then, but he didn’t want to hurt you. 

The second he felt you relax he started moving, gradually speeding up until he was thrusting into you at an inhuman speed. The arm that wasn’t supporting his weight moving to grab your hip and pull you against him with each thrust. By this point you had given up on keeping eye contact, wrapping your arms and legs around him as tightly as possible and burying your head in his shoulder to hide your sounds. San didn’t seem to care though, occupying himself with marking your neck as he continued his movements. You were still sensitive from your first orgasm, so it didn’t take long for the second one to wash over you, making you scream against his shoulder as he continued. San slowed down his pace enough to help you ride it out before picking up again to chase his own release. 

“Sir please!” you whined, grabbing desperately at his shirt while your other hand moved to grab at his horn. San groaned loudly at the action, hips faltering for a moment. 

“You can handle one more,” he grunted, “just hold on for me.” It didn’t take long for him to reach his orgasm, groaning loudly and pulling you against him as he released inside of you. The feeling pushed you into your third orgasm as you went limp in his hold, almost feeling like you were going to pass out. 

ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ

As if a switch had flipped inside of San, you felt him gently pull out of you and help you lay back before carefully rolling off of you. Before you could whine about the loss of contact he had rolled onto his back and pulled you into his chest, pulling the covers over both of you to keep you warm. He would clean you up and help you get dressed once he knew you had fallen asleep. For right now though he knew you were probably sensitive and he wanted to give you time to come down from your headspace before he risked moving you and making you uncomfortable. One hand began gently playing with your hair while the other traced down your body, occasionally stopping to massage a particularly sore spot. You allowed yourself to melt into his embrace, feeling his warmth and scent which almost reminded you of fall. You had almost fallen asleep when you heard him speak again. 

“I didn’t mean to actually go that rough,” he confessed, “I never want to hurt you. There’s just something about you though that awakens something in me. I knew it from the moment I laid my eyes on you, I needed to have you and I can’t let you go.” You couldn’t really process what he was saying, let alone a response, so instead you hummed contently against his chest. San couldn’t help but smile down at you, hugging you a bit tighter to him. “I know you probably can’t understand me and I know you may not like me very much tomorrow but I hope you will enjoy it here. I mean it when you say you are mine. The person I will marry and bond myself to, and the one I will spend eternity protecting.” By this point he was just rambling as you had fallen asleep, but he continued with all of his promises as if you would be able to hear and understand him. 

San had waited centuries for the right soul to find him the one that would finally complete him without being destroyed or corrupted, something that could truly tie him to the mortal realm. Spending every October being dragged around by people who were hoping for an eternal favor. He always gave them what they wanted, but normally they weren’t able to handle the consequences. It had become a chore for him at this point, at least until he was called to you. He could feel the connection in you immediately, calling for him. He would give you the ultimate gift, eternal life and youth, and all you had to give him in return was your love and loyalty.

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Of Ghosts and Sparrows

A Festival of the Lost @d2artevents gift for @theavocadojam featuring their OC Kieran!

Link to Ao3 if you prefer to read it there (Ao3 has chapters, Tumblr is all in one post.)

"Kieran," Eris Morn turned from the Lectern of Enchantment to face the approaching Hunter, staring at a point to the left of his face.  Kieran had not announced his presence nor told Eris who he was.  They were surrounded by other guardians on their way to request bounties from Eris.  Yet she moved directly to him without looking at him, as though she sensed who he was with otherworldly awareness.

"Thank you for coming so quickly," she intoned.  "I have need of your particular skills."  

She turned back to stare above the heads of the other guardians waiting for her attention.  

"Please.  Go."  She waved her hand in a cryptic motion above her Ahamkara bone.  "Return another time."  

Several of them turned away without a word.  One Titan's shoulders slumped.  They looked as though they were about to say something and then they transmatted away.

Eris stepped close and clasped Kieran Nor's arm.  The grip of her fingers through her glove felt almost like claws.   

"This is a matter requiring considerable discretion, and has the potential to involve significant risk.  I trust this is still acceptable to you?"

"For you, Eris?"  Kieran answered, warmly.  "Of course." 

Eris sighed deeply in relief.  "Come then.  Let us begin."

She muttered for a few moments and then a Hive portal appeared in the air before them both.  She held out her hand.  Kieran took it and they both stepped through.  

Kieran was not a nervous, twitchy type, but stepping through a Hive portal with no idea what was on the other side was always a bit of a nerve-wracking experience.  It was therefore quite a relief when the other side of the portal turned out to be nothing more ominous than the front of Spider's bar in the last city.  Not Kieran's favourite place, but better than a lot of the alternatives.

Eris paused at the threshold, placing her hand in a pocket at her side.  She seemed to be considering something and then she nodded, as though agreeing with someone Kieran could not see.  

"First, we will need information," she informed Kieran.  "An activity which may prove..."  Eris sighed and squared her shoulders as though steeling herself for something difficult.  "...vexing."

"Nevertheless," she continued, "it must be done.  And quickly.  I prefer your assistance here more for... emotional support than anything.  It would be... problematic... if the Spider were to not survive my inquiries, no matter how pleasurable that outcome might be for so many of us."

"...and if that doesn't convince him," they heard the Spider's voice as they approached.  "I have methods of... sweetening the deal, as you might say."  He was speaking to someone not physically present via a comms device.  "No! No! Nothing so barbaric as that, my friend.  Let's just say... it can be beneficial to be cooperative, for the future of ones hatchlings.  So much better to be contributing to their education rather than... the alternative."  The Eliksni crime boss chortled menacingly.

Eris made a low growling sound in the back of her throat as she walked closer.  Kieran let her take the lead.

The Spider's laughter cut off abruptly and he began coughing as Eris approached.  

"Eris Morn," he addressed her between coughing.  "To what do I owe the... uh... pleasure of your visit?"

Eris stared at a point to the left of the Spider's head.  "One of our... mutual associates recently ceased responding to communications with me while in the middle of a mission involving... the acquisition of... an item.  An item they previously consulted with you regarding locating.  I need to know where he went." 

"Ah, I'm afraid I have no idea what you mean." Spider leaned back, clearly amused.  

Beneath his helmet, Kieran ground his teeth.  

"All of my business dealings are registered with the Vanguard authorities." Spider said with a tone that could only be described as... slimy.  "Anything anyone might be doing for me will be recorded in their shipping logs."

Eris stepped closer.  

"Interactions with this particular individual would not be recorded in the shipping logs for your... businesses," Eris spoke calmly.  "He is a very private person.  A... law abiding citizen."  She paused briefly so the implication of her words could sink in.  "He... pays his taxes." 

"Oh!  That one!  Yes... yes of course... but I am sure you understand... as this is a private citizen, I can't go around discussing his uh... personal business.  Especially with a member of the Vanguard special forces, you see.  That would be... very uncouth of me, no?"  He chortled to himself at his own joke.

Eris stepped closer.  Spider's two personal guards stepped closer as well.  Eris glared at each one in turn.  They both took a step back.  

"I am not coming to you as a member of the Vanguard," she continued.  "I am coming to you as his friend.  He is in need of assistance.  The nature of his transactions with you need not be disclosed.  Simply his whereabouts."

The Spider coughed again.  No.  He was laughing.  "That one can take care of himself, my dear.  And if he somehow doesn't?  Ha!  We're all a lot better off."  

Eris stepped closer.  

Spider stopped laughing.

"Look," Spider said quietly, leaning down toward Eris, his voice condescending.  He held out an empty three-fingered hand toward her.  "Information isn't free, my overly fleshy three-eyed friend.  Surely there is... something you can... offer me... for my trouble."  The Spider's four eyes looked Eris up and down, his fingertips following his eyes in the air as he chortled to himself.

The temperature of the room dropped by several degrees.  Kieran felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.  

Eris leaned even closer to the Spider and placed her free hand in his.  

Kieran could not hear the exchange but the Spider tensed and he moved to lean back, away from Eris.  Her eyes flashed and the ball of Soulfire in her hand began to rotate.  

She gripped the Spider's hand tightly as he tried to pull away, drawing her hand down and forcing him to remain near enough to hear her whispers.  

The Spider's four eyes went wide as she continued muttering in his ear.  The ghost shell he was holding in another hand fell to the floor with a loud clatter.  

Eris' lips continued moving, whispering something only the Spider could hear, her hand beginning to twist his beyond the normal range of motion for an Eliksni wrist.

"He's on the Tangled Shore!" the Spider blurted out, his voice tinged with panic.  "I'll send you the coordinates I gave him!  Please!  Please just leave me alone!"

The Ahamkara bone ceased its rotation.  Eris released the Spider's trapped hand and stepped back.  "Thank you," she said tersely, finally speaking at a volume everyone else could hear, then she turned to Kieran.  "We can leave now."  

Kieran looked from Eris to the Spider, breathing heavily and shaking in his chair, visibly cringing away from the three-eyed woman as Eris muttered something in the guttural language of the Hive.  Another portal appeared.  The guards flinched and backed away from it.  

Spider said something in Eliksni as they walked through.  Kieran wasn't certain if it was a curse or an appeal to some higher power for protection.  It may have been both.

***

The other end of the portal was neither the Moon nor the Tangled Shore. Kieran wasn't sure what he's been expecting, but the Gambit ready room on the Derelict wasn't it. 

Eris walked quickly to a door that was always kept sealed during Gambit matches.  The door opened immediately upon her approach. 

"Whoa." Blinx appeared at Kieran's shoulder. "Is the Drifter  going to help us rescue this person too?" the ghost asked. 

"The answer to your question is highly dependent upon his level of consciousness and state of injury when we find him." Eris intoned. 

"Wait," Blinx asked his eye flickering, "You mean to tell us this rescue operation is *for* the Drifter?" 

Eris turned partway down the corridor and stared at the wall. "Is that a problem, little light?" 

"No, Eris," Kieran answered. "That's fine. Of course we'll help. We're just not used to the Drifter needing rescuing." 

"Nor is he, I suspect. But I am certain he will be grateful for it.  Now follow. Time is of the essence." 

Eris made her way through the ship with the ease of someone who was completely familiar with it.  Strange heaps of unidentifiable junk were piled up in odd assortments, visible through the doorways of various rooms.  They walked through a surprisingly clean and well-kept galley area and then past what had to have been a workshop, although from what Kieran could see in the brief parts of it he saw, it was a workspace which seemed to be attempting the violation of every known safety protocol simultaneously.  

Moments later they were on the Derelict's small makeshift bridge. 

Kieran eyed the kit-bashed controls and clumsily soldered circuitry, noting one panel that was occasionally spitting sparks. 

"Can you fly this ship, Eris?" he asked, somewhat concerned. 

"It would be madness to try," Eris answered with a wave of her hand.  "The Drifter's... modifications are far from standard.  However, there is one other individual who knows how to operate this ship."

She reached into her pocket and then withdrew her hand 

A strange ghost lay shuddering in her palm.  Its badly welded shell twitched as it rose and floated to the controls. 

"Is that..."  Kieran's voice trailed off as he watched it.

"Yes," Eris answered.

"I've never seen the Drifter's ghost."  Kieran told her.

"Most have not.  He prefers it that way.  However, circumstances are extenuating at the moment and I am certain he would prefer this to the alternative.  When I sent my request to you, I noted how highly I valued your competence and your discretion.  I will hold you to that."  She turned to Blinx. "Both of you."

"Of course, Eris."  Blinx said, eyeing the Drifter's ghost from Kieran's shoulder suspiciously.

"Have the Spider's coordinates arrived, little light?" Eris asked the ghost.  

It made no sound as it turned to face her, but its red eye-light blinked blue and then red again.  

Eris nodded.  "Proceed."

The Drifter's ghost hovered over the controls and expanded its shell, rotating slowly.  

From this view it was clear to Kieran that the small ghost's shell was amalgamated from the shells of several other ghosts.  Something told both Kieran and Blinx that those shells were probably not uninhabited when whatever had been done to the Drifter's ghost had occurred.

The Derelict lurched and made a low grinding noise.  Eris watched dispassionately, cradling her glowing orb.

"Is it... supposed to sound like that?"  Blinx asked. 

"I do not know," Eris intoned.

The Drifter's ghost emitted a single tone and turned to Eris.  Its light blinked blue and then red again.  It turned back to the controls.  

"Apparently, yes." Eris translated.   

Engines that sounded like they were about to die began to rev up and then, rattling, the ship began to move.  Then it moved faster.  And then it moved very fast.  

A loud banging erupted from somewhere deep within the vessel.  In front of them the Reef came rapidly into view.  Moments later they were in a stable position above the Tangled Shore.  

"What... powers this thing?" Blinx asked.  

"I have no idea," Eris replied.  "The Drifter would undoubtedly advise you that you do not wish to know.  However, you may ask him when we find him, provided he is in a condition conducive to responding."

The Drifter's misshapen ghost emitted the same tone it had before and flew to a console next to where Eris was standing.  A projection of the terrain on the surface appeared with a large red splotch covering over half of it.

"I see," she said solemnly.

"Can the Drifter's ghost lead us to him?"  Kieran asked.

"That would be ill-advised." Eris said.  "I was entrusted with him for a reason.  Both he and I suspect the Drifter is in a darkness zone which would prevent resurrection and... when I lost contact with him, he was not alone.  Based upon the partial conversation I heard, I suspect he may have run afoul of some of his... former associates."

"You were talking with him when he lost contact?"  Blinx asked.

"Yes."

"No wonder you're worried about him."  Kieran said.

"Indeed."

The Drifter's ghost flew back to Eris' open hand.  She placed it once more in her pocket.  

"Prepare yourself," she intoned.  "The transmat is... firing."

***

Kieran materialized just outside of an abandoned building on the Tangled Shore.  

"I have mapped out a route which should bring you to the coordinates Spider has provided," Eris spoke through the communicator in his ear. "That will be where he started.  It is my hope that we will be able to intuit his route once you arrive."

Kieran nodded and hopped onto his Sparrow.  

Eris' path was winding, but uneventful.  A few of the turns were quite sharp and there were several jumps, easy enough for someone as good on a Sparrow as Kieran, and very comfortable at the quick but relaxed speeds they were traveling.  

"You know," Blinx said after another long but relatively gentle jump over a gap, "With all the jumps and turns and interesting terrain, if it weren't in an active war zone, this would make a fantastic Sparrow Racing track."

Kieran nodded.

"While I appreciate your enthusiasm, little ghost," Eris answered in Kieran's ear, "Please, both of you, remember to keep your wits about you.  We do not know what tricks may await you ahead."

Kieran's bright red Sparrow slid to a stop between the wreckage of two Ketches.  The door in front of them was sideways from its original configuration and looked like it would lead them to one of the main areas of the larger ship.

"All right, Eris." Blinx said through the comms.  "We're at a locked door but I can't seem to get a read on the security protocols for it at all.  It must have some really complicated shielding.  Nothing's coming up on my scans at all.  This might take a while."

"It is open."  Eris said.  "You can proceed through."

The mechanism panel had a small red light glowing, clearly indicating access was denied.  

Kieran and Blinx looked at each other and then Kieran pushed on the door.  It swung open soundlessly.

"That's clever," Kieran said with a smile.

"The panel is... fake?"  Blinx asked, incredulous.

"The Drifter calls it... security through obscurity..." Eris intoned in his ear.  "His tricks are often very banal but... still manage to be remarkably effective at times." 

Kieran pulled the door shut as Blinx illuminated the area.  They were in a short hallway.  The other end was a crumpled mess.  

"Are you seeing this, Eris?"

"Yes.  Look slightly to the right.  Can that panel be moved?"

Kieran lifted up some debris and sure enough, they were greeted by an open air vent.  

"We sure do spend an awful lot of time crawling through air vents." Blinx said quietly as Kieran made his way through.

"A common hazard of the profession.  I did so as well when I was a guardian."  

The other end of the vent had no covering and they were able to crawl out without issue into the wreckage of the ship's bridge.  

Long dead Eliksni corpses in various states of crumbling decay lay around them.  

"What happened here?"  Kieran asked.

"Mutiny," Eris said in their ears.  "A betrayal long since past.  Move swiftly, Kieran.  You are close now.  Be wary."

There was a dim light up ahead.  As Kieran rounded a corner, he understood why.  The top (or rather the side) of the ship was completely gone.  Cool light splashed down onto the bones of the gutted Ketch cargo bay from the stars above.  Vehicles and crates were strewn around.  Some were mostly intact, others were in pieces or simply piles of twisted metal.  A hole in the other end of the Ketch opened onto a stretch of hard rock butting up against a sheer cliff face.

"Maybe he went another way?" Blinx asked hopefully.

"No."  Eris' voice was gentle but insistent.  "Look closely.  The Drifter is a creature of obfuscation and guile.  It is likely his trail has been obscured by his own hand."

Kieran scanned what was left of the large space and then tensed, his scout rifle in his hands ready to fire.  An eerie flicker in the corner of his eye.  When he turned to look, it was gone.  He shook his head.

"Did you see that?" he asked Blinx.

"See what?" 

"For a moment I thought I saw something but now it's gone."

"Marauder?"

"No, it was pale and... almost glowing?  Sort of Eliksni-shaped?  Never seen anything like it."  Kieran walked toward the spot he'd been pointing at and then gave an exasperated sigh.

"What now?"  Blinx asked.

Kieran groaned.  "If there's one thing I hate, it's improperly parked forklifts."  

Kieran pointed at the Eliksni version of a forklift.  It was oddly intact and was on a piece of wall which had buckled inward, causing the forklift to be tilted at an odd angle.  

"This whole place is trashed and we're concerned about how a forklift is parked?" Blinx asked.

Kieran walked toward it.  "Look at this. It can't have fallen that way.  Someone parked it like this after the crash.  And they parked it on an incline.  You do not park forklifts on an incline.  They can roll.  It's a massive hazard.  Whoever did this has no regard for safety."  He climbed into the driver's seat with a sigh.  

"You're not seriously repositioning it now, are you?"  Blinx asked, incredulous.

"It bothers me."  Kieran said.

"Hey, that's weird," Blinx said over his shoulder.  "Someone's already hotwired it."

Kieran took the exposed wires and tapped them together, starting the vehicle.  

A loud and insistent beeping echoed through the wreckage of the ship as Kieran began backing the forklift up.

"What are you doing?" Eris asked through the comms.  "This noise will carry far!  It will give away your position."

Kieran got out and stepped away from the forklift and examined what it had been parked on top of.

"We found where he went, Eris."  Blinx answered, illuminating a gaping hole in the floor.  

"Hmmm... Very well.  Go swiftly.  We do not know what attention you may have attracted from the surrounding area."

Kieran jumped down onto a rock ledge that was barely visible in the darkness below.

***

The hollowed out area beneath the wreckage of the Ketch contained a lot of debris.  As they continued through, Kieran asked Eris.  "Why haven't the Eliksni salvaged this yet?  There's a lot here."

"Fear." Eris answered.  "The location, and its history, is known to be cursed.  There are stories that any who enter do not leave alive."

"Eris, don't you think we should have known that before coming here?"  Blinx' light flickered.

"It is baseless superstition.  You have nothing to fear from the ghosts of a past that is not even yours, but be cautious.  You are close, now."

Kieran paused, his foot in the air.  Then he stepped back.  

"What is it?"  Blinx asked and then hovered down at knee-height to look.  "Oh wow.  That's devious.  It's a tripwire grenade but the laser has been disabled.  It's using an actual tripwire.  Pretty much invisible in this light.  

"Sounds like Drifter," Kieran said.

"Yes," Eris agreed in his ear.

Kieran stepped over it and Blinx continued to scan the environment as they went.

"Scorch marks."  Blinx said, quietly.

"That is to be expected at a crash site," Eris intoned.

"Yes but, these are recent," Kieran said, placing a hand on some blasted metal embedded in the rock.  "Still warm.  Solar energy."

"And this metal is shattered, as though it were made very cold and brittle just before something impacted it."  Blinx added.

"Stasis," Eris said in Kieran's ear.

Kieran nodded.  

Moments later they found the bodies.  Eight of them.  Seven were dressed entirely in black, most had been downed with headshots.

One lay apart from the others, dressed in green clothes with distinctive fur-covered and spiked pauldrons.  

"Found him!"  Kieran told Eris as he knelt beside the Drifter.

Then Kieran very still as the barrel of an extremely familiar hand cannon pressed up under his chin.  He raised both of his hands slowly.

One eye swollen shut, one eye half open, his face a mask of blood.  The Drifter looked up at Kieran and brushed his finger lightly on the trigger of Trust.  "Who the hell are you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.  

"We're here to help, Drifter."  Blinx said from behind Keiran while keeping a respectful distance.  "It's Kieran and Blinx.  Do you remember us?"

They were all briefly bathed in a malachite-green glow from somewhere behind them nearby.

"Shiny... Red... Daito cape...Hung Jury... and... my gun.  Yeah.  Ok."  The Drifter's hand relaxed and he pointed the hand cannon away from Kieran.  "The hell are you doing out here?"

"I sent them," Eris intoned as she knelt next to Kieran.

"Moondust?" the Drifter's voice creaked.  "Izzat you?"  He squinted with the one eye he could see through.

"Yes," she answered.  "How badly are you hurt?"

"Uh... Pretty bad."

The Drifter's ghost appeared next to Eris and emitted its single tone.  

"That won't work here," the Drifter said to his ghost.  "Good thing too, or those assholes would'a got back up again too."  He pointed to the other bodies nearby.  

Eris sat still for a moment, muttering something unintelligible and then sighed deeply.   

"It is as I suspected.  I was able to track you externally through Kieran in order to make a portal here but it closed immediately behind me.  I cannot get a lock on the Derelict from this location to teleport us out.  We will need to make our way out on foot until we are clear from whatever is interfering."

Eris began to mutter and scratch something into the ground around them with a sharp stone.

"What are you doing?"  Kieran asked.

"Stabilizing him," Eris answered.  

"You can heal people with Hive magic?" Blinx asked, in awe.

"No,"  Eris answered. "Nothing about the Hive is healing.  But, this can help to fortify him until we get somewhere where his ghost can use its light." 

"You using Hive magic on me again, Moondust?" 

"Are you complaining?"  Eris asked.

"Nope.  Last time was fun."

"Ugh."

He grinned and then looked over to Kieran and Blinx.  "I fell off a cliff and she levitated me to keep me from breakin' my neck.  Hangin' around a three-eyed witch has its benefits."

"Tsch." Eris made the sound dismissively.

"What happened here?" Kieran asked while Eris worked.  

"So... Spider got intel on this place," the Drifter began.  "It was hidden by an anomaly and that anomaly went away.  No idea why.  Didn't ask.  Maybe should have.  Anyway, there's a thing here that means a lot to some people.  Spider sold me the details and I came out to get it.  But... I'm guessin' I wasn't the only one Spider sold that info to.  Which is something he and I will need to have a little chat about later.  Anywho, some old uh... associates of mine apparently either knew what I was after, or knew I was after it."

Eris continued muttering and scratching as the Drifter talked to Kieran.

"They came here but they didn't know where to look," he explained.  "We uh... talked a bit... came to an agreement that I'd show 'em where the good stuff was as long as I got the one thing I came for.  Then, of course, they didn't hold up their end of the bargain.  Which... is only fair since I wasn't planning on holdin' up my end neither.  Wasn't expectin' the vengeful ghosts, though."

"Vengeful ghosts?" Blinx asked, looking around, worried.

"Yeah.  I dunno where they went but they sure didn't want their stuff plundered.  They were weirdly fine with me.  But those jerks," he pointed at the bodies, "figured that since the ghosts weren't comin' after me, they must be somehow workin' for me, so they opened fire."

"When you say ghosts.  Do you mean like me?"  Blinkx asked

"Nope."

"Do you mean Scorn?"  Kieran asked.

"Nope.  Ghost-ghosts.  Dead Eliksni. Spooky shit."

Eris sighed.  "You did not see ghosts.  I have done what I can, but you are still quite badly injured and it is likely making you delusional."

"I mean yeah, sure, maybe, but this was before the firefight."

"Delusions can affect one's memory of events," Eris told him.  "Hold still a moment while I immobilize your leg.  It is broken in several places."  Stasis filled Eris' hands and she encased the Drifter's left leg in crystal from the ankle to the hip.  

"I saw ghosts, Moondust.  They were there.  I dunno why you think they weren't.  You talk to dead people all the time."

"It's quite different."

Kieran and Blinx watched them bicker with quiet amusement.

"Is it?  This is like that time you said the pumpkin heads didn't exist... when I saw 'em when I was running tactical on haunted lost sectors."

Eris sighed again.  "I said that because the Headless Ones are a myth.  They do not exist."

"We havin' this argument again?  Right now?" the Drifter asked, almost seeming to draw strength from the opportunity to irritate Eris.  "They do exist.  I saw 'em.  Glint saw 'em.  Eido saw 'em.  Lots of guardians have seen 'em.  Hell, even Immaru saw 'em."

"Immaru's endorsement does not help your case," Eris intoned.

"Kieran?" the Drifter asked, "Surely you've done Haunted Lost Sectors before.  You've seen pumpkin heads right?  Back me up here."  

Before Kieran could answer there was a loud explosion near the entrance to the area they were in under the Ketch.

"Oh hey, that's my tripwire!" the Drifter said cheerfully.

"We are not alone," Eris said ominously.  "Do your 'ghost-ghosts' also set off tripwires?"

"Nope."  

"We should go," Blinx said quietly.  

***

They heard scurrying sounds approaching them.  Kieran stood, weapons ready.  Several Screebs scuttled over the wreckage near where they'd entered.  

Kieran began shooting.  

The Screebs exploded in clusters like loud, deadly, bubble wrap, leaving behind splotches of Dark Ether.  

"Good thing you brought him," the Drifter said.  "He's a great shot."  

"I am aware," Eris answered tersely as she helped the Drifter to stand.  

Eris and the Drifter hobbled farther into the wreckage under the Ketch as Kieran walked backwards while following them, gunning down Scorn as they approached with his Hung Jury scout rifle.

"Where are they coming from?" Blinx asked.  "And why now?"

"They were likely alerted to our presence from the noise made when the forklift was moved," Eris called out over the Drifter's shoulder.

"Hey Drifter," Kieran called back while reloading.  "You have a way out of here other than where all the Scorn are piling in?"  

"Nope!"

"That's a lot of Scorn," Blinx said, his voice worried.  "I don't think we have enough ammunition to shoot our way out."

"Oh great!" Kieran said, gunning down two Raiders and a Ravager as he continued backing up.  "Any other ideas?"

"Impossible," Eris said quietly behind him.  

"I told you!" the Drifter's voice was weirdly gleeful. "Now do you believe me?"

Kieran glanced back to see what they were talking about and felt his skin crawl.  A pale apparition of an Eliksni captain shimmered before them.  It floated in the air and raised a ghostly Arc blade, using it to point at a hole in the rock which was partially obscured by a twisted metal door.   

Kieran returned his focus to what was in front of him, continuing to fire at the oncoming Scorn.  "That a way out?"

"I dunno, hero," the Drifter called back, "but it's better than here.  Let's go!"

Eris peered at the ghost while she helped the Drifter limp through the hole.  

"Ether tanks!" the Drifter called out once he was through the entrance.  "I like it!"  

Sure enough, as soon as he'd cleared enough Scorn to turn and run after them through the hole, Kieran saw a pile of Ether tanks just inside what looked like a hallway from the crashed Ketch above them.  There was also a ramp leading up to another sideways corridor.  

"You know what to do with that, right hotshot?" the Drifter called out from farther ahead.

"Hell yeah," Kieran grinned and, backing into the second doorway.  He pulled out his own copy of Trust and fired a Solar round into the Ether tanks.   

The explosion rocked the Ketch.  

Kieran peeked around the doorway as the smoke cleared.  The opening they'd come through was now effectively closed off with wreckage and rubble.  

"Why is it assisting us," Eris asked, as she helped the Drifter to follow the Eliksni ghost.  

Kieran joined them as the Drifter pulled out a cloth-wrapped bundle from his back pocket.  "Probably because she knows I'm gettin' this back to where it belongs."

The cloth had a distinctive, yet unfamiliar pattern embroidered on it and it shimmered strangely.    The Drifter unfolded it with care.  Within it was a necklace, worked out of some metal Kieran could not immediately identify, containing several unknown stones.  

"What is it?" Eris asked.  

The apparition hovered nearby.

"This... is an Eliksni heirloom," the Drifter explained quietly.  "Made in Riis."  

"The Eliksni homeland." Kieran said, looking over his shoulder.

"Yup, but even more important is the cloth around it.  That's a eggcloth.  Now, I don't pretend to know the full significance of this but the reason it's so important is because of whose eggcloth it is."  

"His mother," Eris whispered.

"Yup," the Drifter said quietly, nodding at the ghost.  The ghost bowed slightly back.  The Drifter folded the necklace up in the cloth again carefully.  

"But... how does she know?" Eris asked.  "Why does she trust us?  We are human."

"I have no idea," the Drifter said.  "But she knows."

The ghost hovered closer to them and then reached out one of its four hands. One of its three fingers pointed to the Drifter's left wrist.

The Drifter leaned back against what seemed like a wall, but which was actually the floor of the sideways corridor they were standing in, and took his arm off from around Eris' neck.  He pulled off his gauntlet and then gave a short laugh, pushing up his sleeve so that Eris, Kieran and Blinx could see.  

Around his wrist were several colourful braided strings attached to a flat bead with the house of light symbol carved into it.  

"Eido's friendship bracelet?" Eris asked, confusion in her voice..

"Made one for you too, did she?" the Drifter asked her.

"Yes," Eris said, pulling off her own gauntlet and placing her wrist next to the Drifter's, showing a similar braided bracelet with a nearly identical bead in the middle.  "The children in the last city taught her how to make them and she tied it on to me herself."  

Kieran gave one more glance back toward the caved-in entrance to make sure no more Scorn were approaching before he, too, pulled off the armour from his arm to display a similar trinket wrapped around his own wrist as well.

"Me too."

Eris tilted her head.  "But... why does this matter?"

"Well, if I had to guess," the Drifter said, replacing his gauntlet.  "Our friendly ghost here is the owner of the necklace, and the eggcloth.  Which would make this fine incorporeal lady..."

"Innaks," Eris intoned as she looked upon the ghost.  "Eido's grandmother." 

"But, isn't Eido adopted?" Blinx asked.

"I don't think that matters to the Eliksni," the Drifter answered.  "Pretty sure this is a love thing and an honour thing.  And Eido is Mithrax's daughter in every way that counts."

The ghost nodded and then pointed to a doorway with one of its Arc knives.  A moment later it flickered out of sight.  

"Look, I don't know about you," the Drifter said, "but grandma's two for two at this point, and I'm inclined to believe she's leadin' us outta here."

"I concur," Eris said, lifting his arm over her shoulder so she could help him hobble once more.  "Let us proceed."  

***

The corridor was crumpled in several places, and they had to squirm through some tight spaces, but eventually they found themselves looking over the entrance that first the Drifter, and then Kieran, had come in by.  

Inaaks' ghost had not reappeared.

Kieran's bright red racing sparrow was surrounded by Scorn. As Kieran looked around, he could see that the route he'd taken to get to the wrecked Ketches was likewise occupied with a large number of the rotting reanimated Eliksni.  

"They're waiting for us." Blinx said quietly.  

"So it seems," Eris intoned.  

"Hey Three-Eyes, the Drifter whispered, "Can you portal us out yet?"

Eris shook her head.  "No.  I suspect the interference I am dealing with will correspond to the edge of the Darkness zone where I was able to transmat Kieran in."

"Right," the Drifter said.  "So uh, how many people can that sparrow hold, hero?  And can it go fast enough when it's overloaded to get us through that mess?"

"It can go fast enough," Kieran said, his voice smug.

"It'd be pretty tricky to drive through at top speed with three people through all that," the Drifter continued.  "You confident you can pull that off?"

Kieran smirked under his helmet. 

Blinx sighed.  "Yeah.  Yeah he is."

Eris' frozen Ahamkara bone ping-ponged off of the six Scorn Lurkers and the Abomination immediately surrounding the Sparrow.  The Drifter tossed a Coldsnap grenade to immobilize the rest.  Kieran fired Trust from the hip, shattering most of the hostiles as Eris and the Drifter scrambled to move as quickly as the Drifter's broken leg would let them toward Kieran's bright red Sparrow.

"Ooooh," the Drifter said as Eris helped him sit down.  "This is a nice ride."

"Appreciate later," Eris said curtly and slid behind him, placing the bulk of her weight against him rather than on the Sparrow seat so that there would be enough room for Kieran.  

Kieran squeezed in front just as the Scorn farther away started running toward them.  The Sparrow's engine revved and began to purr.  

Eris pulled out her Loud Lullaby hand cannon and took out two Screebs in their immediate path.  

Kieran's Sparrow began to pick up speed.

As they accelerated past another Scorn Abomination, a jade coin made a loud "ding" as it struck the Abomination's riveted forehead. The large Scorn exploded in a burst of Solar energy, immolating it and everything around it.  

"You weren't kiddin' about the speed, kid," the Drifter laughed as they banked hard to the left and slid half-way up a wall.  "This is great!  Woooo!"

The three of them ducked as Kieran brought them through a set of large pipes half embedded in the ground which, conveniently, gave them cover from everything shooting at them.  This ended up being a good move as even more hostiles began to swarm toward them, opening fire.

However, the one thing the Scorn seemed not to have anticipated was someone crazy enough to drive through the twisted winding path out of here at insane speeds, taking turns like a maniac, soaring over gaps with jumps that would have been challenging for one rider to land safely at those speeds, never mind someone carrying two additional people.  

"Hooo-ee!  I haven't seen driving like this since... ever! If I ever manage to get Sparrow racing shoehorned into Gambit you're gonna clean house, kid!" the Drifter shouted into Kieran's ear as they skidded sideways, drifting past yet another blockade, before making a sharp turn and skimming over a heap of wreckage.

They were almost out of the darkness zone when Eris grunted and slumped against the Drifter.  

"Moondust?"  The Drifter's voice held a tinge of panic.  It was the first time Kieran had ever heard that tone from him.  

Kieran opened up the throttle as the Drifter reached back with hands covered in Stasis to freeze Eris Morn to him so she would not fall.  

One final leap through the air and they were back where they'd started.  

Kieran's Sparrow landed gently, sliding sideways to a clean, perfect stop.  

The Drifter's ghost tumbled out of Eris' pocket and opened its twitching shell, scanning her as the Drifter turned in the seat to help Kieran to get Eris off the Sparrow and on the ground.  

"Talk to me, Three-Eyes," the Drifter muttered to her as he and Kieran tried to figure out where she had been hit.  "Say something."

Eris growled.  Then she grabbed the front of his coat tightly in her fist.  

"Insufferable," she mumbled through blood stained lips. 

The Drifter grinned at Kieran, relief apparent in the one eye that wasn't swollen shut.  He looked up at his ghost.  "You, ghost!  You able to get a signal up to the Derelict from here?"

The Drifter's ghost emitted its single tone in acknowledgement and blinked its light blue.  

"Good."  He nodded to Kieran.  "Transmat Firing!"

***

"Stop coddling me!" Eris snarled at the Drifter two days later as she leaned heavily on the modified Hive Knight femur wrapped in velvet cloth and pierced with osmium nails.  

It was a powerful magical artifact, one which she'd used to turn herself into a god.  But now, it was serving a more mundane and functional purpose.  Giving her stability as she walked with Kieran and the Drifter between the shelves of the recently constructed library of the House of Light in the Eliksni quarter.  

"Let me coddle a little, will ya?  It's my fault you got shot."

"Yes.  It is.  It is entirely your fault.  And I shall not let you forget it any time soon.  Thankfully, Kieran was there."

"Good thing too." the Drifter said, smiling at Kieran.  "I was dead-dead without you comin' in to save my sorry ass.  I'm grateful."  He turned back to Eris.  "So let me be grateful, will ya?  You're so grumpy!"

"Ugh."  Eris growled in frustration.

Kieran, Eris and the Drifter sat down around a table with Eido and Missraks, Scribe and Kell of the House of Light.  Blinx hovered near Kieran's shoulder, light occasionally flickering on and off, in eager anticipation.

The Drifter handed Kieran the cloth-wrapped package.  "You give it to them," he told Kieran.  "You're the only reason this whole caper has a happy ending."  

Kieran smiled and turned to the two Eliksni.

"Is that..." Missraks paused, his voice overcome with emotion.  

Kieran nodded.  

"Please..." the Kell looked upon Kieran with gratitude.  "Give it to my daughter."

Eido's hands trembled as she unwrapped the cloth and held both it and the necklace in her three-fingered hands.  

"Do you know," she looked up at Kieran with four wide eyes. "Do you know what this means to us?  To our house?  To me?  This is history... a piece of our past believed to be forever lost... this metal, these stones, they are pieces of a world that is gone... this... this is priceless..."

Kieran smiled as Eido hugged him enthusiastically with all four of her arms.

"Happy Festival of the Lost, Crabcakes," the Drifter said from across the table. 

"This is so exciting.  How did you find this?  You must tell me what happened!" Eido said, looking adoringly at all of them, especially Kieran.  "I want to know everything!"  

[snowbellewells]

Belated Birthday Fic for @jrob64

Joni (@jrob64) this is long overdue now, and probably not worth the waiting you've done for it, but I still wanted to give you the story I wrote for your birthday. It takes place in Season 2, after Emma leaves Hook on the beanstalk, but diverges in that Hook carches up with the Savior and the rest of the Princess squad again without Cora. There's some mentioned whump and I hope plenty of hurt/comfort (since you and I both enjoy that so! ;) And I hope you'll still like it, even though it's now well past your birthday. I am so glad we are friends and that this OTP and fandom lead us to meet and get to know each other!

“Consequences”

by: @snowbellewells

The logs and twigs they’d gathered for their campfire were crackling mightily, releasing occasional pops when sap ignited, but giving off the light and heat their weary and mismatched group needed as they wordlessly gathered on a fallen stump and large rock nearby. None of the women spoke. Exhausted and worried, and still not fully trusting of each other, they merely watched as Mary Margaret spun the rabbit she’d brought back for supper on the spit they had rigged up over the fire and listened as Mulan finished assembling the tent they’d soon crawl into once they had eaten at last.

This wilderness was about the furthest thing from an “Enchanted” Forest that Emma could have conjured in her naive 21st century mind, but she was simply too drained to point out the irony to either her mother - she wasn’t even ready to apply that term to her friend and roommate yet - or honest-to-goodness freaking Sleeping Beauty. And it didn’t help that she kept hearing Hook’s voice echoing in her ears, the hurt and shocked betrayal in his tone - and in those dangerously expressive eyes - as he’d pled with her, ‘Have I told you a lie? Why do this to me now?’ She had the sinking feeling that no matter how tired her body might be, when she lay her head down tonight, she wouldn’t be able to sleep for seeing his face as it had looked when she had turned away on the back of her eyelids, and her guilt at leaving him chained atop the beanstalk gnawing at her insides.

Shaking her head clear, Emma reminded herself once again that Hook had been in league with Cora; they had no proof but his word, her gut feeling, and her superpower no one else believed, that he wasn’t still working for the witch against them. She’d done the right thing, Emma savagely scolded her yammering conscience. Nothing was worth the risk of not getting back to Henry - or even worse, seeing Regina’s evil mother find her way to where Henry was. Certainly not a piercing-eyed pirate who seemed to see right through her and make her squirm doing it.

With a nod and murmur of thanks, she took the portion of roasted meat offered to her on a makeshift skewer and nibbled at it gingerly. It might just be that she was famished and too tired to be picky, but it tasted better than expected. Emma was swallowing her second bite, when noise caught her attention from the nearby treeline. She jerked upright, immediately on guard; her state of near-slumber shattered and all her nerves jangling with alarm. Her eyes met Mary Margaret’s as her mother reached for her bow and Emma stood with fists clenched, ready to defend them however she could, whether her gun was any use out here or not. Mulan had abandoned the tent at the sound as well, smoothly drawing her sword and facing the trees in front of them like a deadly sentinel.

The noise of heavy footsteps smashing through the underbrush grew nearer and louder; branches snapped, heavy, gasping breaths were heard, and Emma could only square her shoulders and wait for whatever new foe was coming forth to show itself.

What she wasn’t expecting - and what tore a harsh gasp from her throat on sight - was for Hook to stumble dazedly out of the woods toward them, momentarily leaning against a tree trunk to steady himself, his face obviously bloody and his clothing torn. He took a couple more weaving steps toward them before the toe of his boot caught a root that sent him sprawling face down in the dirt at their feet. And he didn’t get up. Didn’t move or speak. Emma was rushing forward in spite of herself before she could think better of it. Her mother called for her to be careful, and Mulan’s stern face cautioned it could be a ploy, but she paid neither of them much heed.

He still hadn’t moved, and he looked even worse close up. He’d been hurt. Badly. Surely Anton wouldn’t have…  This wasn’t what she had wanted. Was this her fault?

Crouching, Emma tried to shake Hook gently, to stir him back into wakefulness. A groan escaped him breathily, which shouldn’t have relieved her nearly as much as it did. There was nothing for it but to roll him over onto his back. At least then she could see his face and assess the damage.

But when she did, her breath caught a second time, choking up somewhere between her throat and her lungs. She couldn’t imagine there had been many times in the life of Captain Killian Jones when this could be said of him, but he looked terrible. His lower lip was busted, with rusty remnants of dried blood staining where they had trailed down his chin. One eye was swollen nearly shut, and the other was bleary to the point that she wondered how he had made his way to them through the dark. A large gash that had barely closed showed beneath the disheveled dark fringe on his forehead. Dark, purpled bruises and nasty scrapes mottled the skin of his face, neck and collar nearly everywhere she could see. Though she would have never admitted it aloud, Hook’s usually flawless countenance was horribly altered by whatever had happened to him. The shadows darkening his usual mischievious sparkle and daring turned her stomach in a way she couldn't begin to explain.

He struggled to raise his head slightly and blinked up at her as best he could through the usable slit of his eye. “Ah Swan, caught up to you, didn’t I?” he jested brokenly, somehow still teasing her through what must be immense pain.

Tilting her head to study him, Emma struggled to look unamused while inexplicably aching to place a hand to his forehead, brush back the matted hair there, and offer some modicum of comfort. Her fingers moved almost of their own accord, hovering just barely over his cheek before hesitating and pulling back, tingling at their proximity even as she resisted making contact. There didn’t appear to be a single place on him that wasn’t battered and wouldn’t cause him more pain if she tried to touch.

As if reading her concern, Hook shifted restlessly, attempting to lever himself upright and then falling back with a wince and guttural moan of protest. She also noticed for the first time how tightly he kept his hook arm pressed to his side, not sure if the injury was to the arm itself or if he were shielding his stomach or ribs, but it ratcheted her worry for him that much higher. Not certain what to do for him, or what to say, her usual half-annoyed bantering retorts fled her the longer she witnessed his vulnerability. Emma finally settled on simply answering his question, and asking one of her own. “It would appear you’ve caught me,” she acknowledged, then added softer, “But why?”

Huffing out a weary breath, Killian didn’t look at her as he barely shook his head, the motion seeming to express that he didn’t quite know himself. “I guess because, double cross and all, Lass, you lot are the safest choice for company of my rather limited options.”

Emma flushed with embarrassment at his casual mention of what she’d done. Her cheeks burned, knowing the man who lay before her could surely see how she’d colored at the reminder and could only hope that his current state made him less sharply observant than usual. That she hadn’t trusted him or the brief alliance they’d made shamed her, and then made her angry for feeling ashamed. She’d been burned before, and had learned to be more wary. That she had wanted to believe him, and had silently agreed when he’d called them quite a team, had only made her more anxious to leave him behind, to flee before he turned on her and she was left in the dust herself. Pushing the conflicting emotions aside, she tried another tack instead. “But what happene to you? How did…? Surely Anton didn’t…?”  She was tripping over her words now, flustered and chiding herself as she shook her head in frustration.

Biting her tongue until she could regain control, her eyes flew to her hand when Killian used his to clasp it and gain her attention. Though his fingers were trembling with the effort, he held on and answered her slowly. “No, that wasn’t the work of your giant admirer. Your new friend released me once the time you requested of him had passed. Bloody gargantuan numbskull threatened me to leave you in peace, but he didn’t do this damage.”

Emma exhaled air she’d hardly realized she was holding. It didn’t make things right between them, but she was grateful that she hadn’t misjudged Anton’s nature and directly caused the torture Hook had clearly undergone. “But then, who?” she whispered, finally daring to squeeze the hand that held hers in return, while at last reaching out and smoothing a light caress over his brow.

He flinched slightly at the initial contact, but then his eyes fell closed momentarily with a sigh of relief. Emma had to know, though the only other option she could think of had dread settling in her belly like stone. “Who did this to you?” she choked.

“Why Cora, of course,” he intoned, trying to appear either flippant or matter of fact and failing with the shadows that passed over his expression. “Not honestly sure why she didn’t finish the job, unless she thought she had and this old body is just too stubborn to give up the ghost.” He drew in a ragged breath before adding, “At any rate, after letting me know that she would leave me here, unable to ever gain my vengeance on Rumplestiltskin, she made certain she had demonstrated the consequences of choosing to align myself against her.”

By this point, his breathing had grown shallow and labored once more with the effort of speaking. Shushing him with a plea to rest, Emma was eager to check with the others about anything they might be able to do for his injuries. He certainly didn’t need her to keep him talking as she was. Pressing trembling lips together, Emma dashed away the single drop of moisture that had escaped her eye and laid his hand tenderly back on his chest. “Well, thankfully, Cora counted her win a bit too soon. Let’s see if we can help you live to fight another day.”

His unfairly long lashes fluttered, and a small, soft chuckle broke from his cracked lips, but Killian seemd to be rapidly giving up the fight to remain lucid. Emma wasn’t sure whether that was good or bad while they tried to tend to his wounds, but she had to do something. She wasn’t going to desert him again.

****************************************

When his eyes fluttered open some time later, Killian Jones found himself dazed and dizzy, then almost nauseous, with his throat parched and dry. Panic followed almost immediately as he struggled to gain his bearings and found himself weak as a newborn kitten, floundering even to sit up unaided. He could not have said whether it had been minutes, hours, or days since he was last aware of his surroundings, but just as he was not sure how much time had passed, he was also vaguely uncertain of where he was and whether or not he was alone - an even more disturbing condition.

His mind was reeling as he attempted to move, scrabbling around over the dry, dusty ground with his good hand in a frantic search for his cutlass. Surely he must have left it within reach. He had learned long ago, even as the captain of a mostly loyal pirate crew, that enemies were varied and numerous, and that he must never let his guard down without a weapon close at hand. He had a jagged, long-healed gash running under his ribs, which Smee had tried his best - if rather crookedly - to sew closed, but which had taught him that lesson all too well.

With a frenzied sound of frustration in his throat, Killian kept fighting to sit upright, ready to defend himself against some unknown foe, only to have hands grip his upper arms tightly, pressing him back and forcing him to remain on the ground. “Unhand me, you blackguard!” he growled, only to have his vision finally regain focus and the fight abruptly drain from his limbs when he found himself staring up at Emma Swan hovering over him, her touch the one keeping him in place.

“Easy there, Hook,” she chided, loosening her grip as he stilled and grew calmer upon seeing he was not under immediate attack. “You’ve got to settle down, or you’ll hurt yourself even more. We tried to stitch the deepest of your cuts and bandage you up. Don’t undo it all!”

She was fussing over him, Killian realized belatedly, his hazy and addled mind slowly filling in the blanks he had missed. She might be scolding and grumbling as she did so, but she was still frightened for his well-being and more concerned for his comfort than he would have dared imagine possible.

He had known there was a frisson of energy that flowed between them when he’d taken her hand in the giant’s lair, cleansing and caring for the cut on her palm despite her stubbornly self-effacing protests. And he really hadn’t thought he was imagining the way she’d held her breath and her pupils had dilated when he’d eyed her daringly while tying off the bandage with his teeth. Still, he’d been hesitant to place too much fatih in what he was reading from her either. Emma Swan was overly guarded and used to being on her own. Someone had obviously hurt her deeply enough to make her push everyone else away in response. Not only that, but she was an actual royal - the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, no less - and the fabled Savior besides. Her light was much too pure and bright to be aligned with his dark and tarnished pirate soul set on vengeance.

All the same, he had cursed himself as seven times a fool when his heart plummeted at her turning and running from him on the beanstalk. He had held out a little hope for them, in spite of his better judgement, or he would not have been so hurt by the betrayal. She was as full of shining enticement, from her flowing golden hair to her sparkling jade eyes, as any buried treasure. He couldn’t help wanting to stay by her side.

As Emma slowly moved to support him, helping him ease into a sitting position while bracing him against her own hip and shoulder, she offered him a water skin and held it up so he could take a much-needed cool drink of water. Killian was stunned to realize that maybe winning her over wasn’t as lost a cause as he had thought. Perhaps Emma Swan already cared more than she wanted to allow herself, and against her own good sense - much as he had found himself doing.

Several quiet moments passed before Killian fully registered that all was still and motionless around them. It was full dark now; the middle of the night, or perhaps early morning, if his view of the moon was accurate, yet he could hear no movements or voice’s from Emma’s royal, bandit, or warrior companions. The fire next to them was dimmed to near embers, and it seemed for the moment as if he and Emma were the only two people under the brilliant array of stars overhead.

Now that he had his bearings and his thirst was slaked, he ventured a glance beyond his lovely blonde Savior’s beguiling face, at least far enough to see that a rough tent had been staked and three bed rolls were occupied beneath its temporary shelter, explaining their privacy, but raising even more questions. Why were the rest of them willing to lower their guard enough to sleep with a virtual stranger and former enemy in their camp? It had been hard to miss the warning and distrust in the Lady Snow’s eyes, at any rate - probably largely protectiveness for her daughter, but still, why grant him this sort of uninterrupted interlude with Emma then? He was clearly in poor shape; maybe they had reckoned he couldn’t do anything to harm them, or charm Emma too thoroughly, as injured as he was.

Killian was abruptly startled from his wandering thoughts when he once more felt the cool, soothing touch of Emma’s fingertips trailing up the side of his face and into his hair. She raked the dark strands back from his fevered skin, calming even the pounding that pained him from the magical beating he’d endured and the rough impact his head had suffered when Cora finally dropped his battered body to the hard ground and left him for dead.

The Enchanted Forest’s lost princess spoke so quietly he had to strain to hear her when she addressed him again, her eyes studiously avoiding his to observe her fingers carding through the mussed, blood-caked strands of his hair. “I’m sorry… truly, I am. It was wrong of me to leave you behind the way I did, and… I should have trusted you. You may be a pirate, and awfully full of yourself, and way too flirty for your own good…” 

At that, Killian attempted to waggle an eyebrow and smirk salaciously to make her smile, only for a cringe to escape him at the motion of his brow and lip.

She noticed, of course, and rather than admonishing that it served him right, as she would have usually done, Emma hissed in sympathy and hushed him with a gentle hum in the back of her throat. “See, this shouldn’t have happened to you, Ho - Killian.” Her switch from his moniker to his real name struck him right in the center of the chest, with as much emphasis as a physical blow. He couldn’t decide if her concern, guilt, and contrition more warmed his heart or troubled him - not wanting to win her over out of mere pity. “That witch only caught up to you, found you empty-handed, because of what I did. This is my fault… b-but… I never wanted you to be hurt like this. I only wanted a head start, to get back to my son.”

If he hadn’t been shocked to his core already, the depth of emotion in Swan’s voice as she made her confession would have been enough to bowl him over. It sounded as though she might be on the verge of tears on his behalf, and Killian could hardly fathom it. Drawing a ragged breath of his own, he wet his cracked lips and managed a sincere response to her heartfelt openness. 

“Darling,” and here he couldn’t help a bit of a rogueish grin at her, despite how it pulled on the broken skin of his lip again. 

She shook her head, but didn’t scoff or interrupt, not this time, and heartened, he continued in all sincerity. “I’m not going to lie to you. I was angry when you shackled me there and left me behind. I’d been on the level with you, was doing my best to help you, and for the first the time in a long time, I felt like I connected with someone genuinely. But I also understand that your boy is your first priority. You cannot let anything else matter as much - or even possibly risk his safety.”

His battered knuckles were beginning to swell, and his fingers ached as he moved them, but Killian still managed to return the clutch of Emma’s own hand and intertwine their fingers with a sigh of rightness and relief. Glancing back up to search her gaze once more, he added, “I understand what being separated from one’s child might do to a person… more than you might think, in fact. I respect you all the more for your urgency and desire to return to him as soon as possible.”

He could see Emma wondering what his words might mean; the gears turning in her sharp mind were obvious, even if she only pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes slightly, watching him a few moments longer. Thankfully, she didn’t press the matter further, but instead released what seemed a lungful of air she must have been holding worriedly and gave him a hopeful smile. “So… you forgive me, then?”

The barest dip of his chin was as far as he dared move his aching head, but Killian assured her without hesitation, “Aye, Emma, I do,” in as strong and certain a voice as he could muster. 

By then, the faintest tendrils of light were beginning to break through the deep indigo sky and soft hints of scuffling and waking from their fellow travelers hinted that they would not be alone much longer.

Though he still hurt all over as if he had been scorched by a dragon’s breath and then crushed by an ogre’s tread, Killian couldn’t help but feel as if his situation had drastically changed. Even more so when Emma Swan’s eyes grew warmer yet; her aspect beaming crookedly at him like sunlight slowly emerging from a bank of clouds. Just before they were joined by Snow White bearing coffee for his Savior, Emma winked at him conspiratorially and leaned forward to murmur. “I’m glad, Pirate. After all, we make quite the team, remember?”

Tagging a few others who might enjoy: @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose @apiratewhopines @sotangledupinit @stahlop @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @killian-whump @artistic-writer @the-darkdragonfly @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @booksteaandtoomuchtv @kazoosandfannypacks @justanother-unluckysoul @wefoundloveunderthelight @motherkatereloyshipper @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @jonesfandomfanatic @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @drowned-dreamer @xarandomdreamx @caught-in-the-filter

[snowbellewells]

@cosette141 Oh my goodness!!! This seriously might be a new favorite of yours for me!! I loved revisiting the CS movie, and letting Killian have his “dashing rescue” was seriously brilliant! Not that I don’t love Emma’s strength and resourcefulness generally, but it is even more powerful having him come for her when she was so sure no one would or could - because no one ever had.

The way she goes back in her head to when she was in jail at seventeen. How it puts her back in that lonely vulnerable state after Neal betrayed her all those years ago, that made Killian’s determination to get to her and the risk he takes to save her all the more amazing. And I LOVE how she freely gives into that, falls into to him and allows herself to be vulnerable and accept his comfort. So often she doesn’t or can’t allow herself to do that in canon, and this felt so real and powerful to read it this way. “He stumbled a little by the force of it, surprised. She held him tightly, eyes shut, relief rushing through her in waves as she breathed in his scent. Familiarity. Safeness. Home.”

And then that Emma is readily willing to admit her feelings, and that the connection between them caused her magic to flare back and activate the wand again? It’s perfection!

Thanks SO MUCH for sharing this one!! I loved reading it!! 💗💗💗

The Only One Who Saves Me | OUAT fanfic | CS gift exchange gift (1/3)

MERRY CHRISTMAS @i-will-sing-no-requiem !!!! I was your CS gift exchange santa this year!! :D I very much enjoyed obsessing over Taylor Swift with you haha! :)

Your gift is a 3-parter! 😱😆

This is the main fic I worked on for you! I ran with your prompt of Emma or Killian rescuing the other :)

Summary: (CS movie divergence) Killian gets his dashing rescue, and Emma is no longer the only one who saves her. :)

AO3

Killian ran, hard and fast. He's been out of breath for most of the last mile but he didn't stop.

Emma.

Nearly an hour ago, Emma was taken by Regina's guards.

He could only remember standing in that ballroom, watching them drag her away, every muscle in his body coiled to run after her, to fight them all off even if he had to bloody kill them, to save her, but at the same time, knew that he wouldn't have survived such an attack.

If he was to save Emma, and he would, he needed to be smart.

He needed to do this quietly.

For a moment, Killian had considered trying to find Emma's parents. The prince and princess could certainly help, however risking their lives was out of the question. If one of them died, there wouldn't even be an Emma to save.

That very thought was the only thing that was on Killian's mind.

Her parents were back on track, Snow White had the ring.

But none of that mattered if Killian couldn't save Emma now.

His heart was pounding so hard it hurt and Killian could only remember one time in his life that he's been this scared, and back then, he'd been tied to a mast on his own bloody ship.

But somehow, this felt more terrifying, and that very thought scared him almost more than the fear he wouldn't make it to her in time.

Killian knew Regina's ways; she wouldn't kill Emma tonight. Regina liked to watch the execution of Snow White's supporters every morning after she caught them. Like some sort of twisted breakfast entertainment.

However, even the knowledge that he had until morning to save Emma didn't help the fact that he still had to break into the bloody castle and get to her before he was killed.

He'd done it before, he knew how to get in and to find his way to the dungeons.

But the bloody rule not to mess with the timeline which meant he couldn't kill anyone if he needed to only made his heart beat even faster.

Killian finally stopped when he saw the silhouette of the castle over the hill. He stared at it warily, catching his breath.

"I'm coming, Emma," he whispered to the air.

And he started on his way, clinging to shadows.

I will find you, love.

And he won't stop until he does.

Emma huffed a defeated breath, sinking heavily back to the ground.

The lock was too far; she couldn't reach it.

Emma threw the wire she'd found back to the ground with burning eyes. That was her only chance. In a last ditch effort, Emma shut her eyes, trying to feel the magic inside her.

But it wasn't there, no matter how hard she searched for it.

Rumplestiltskin had already given them that wand to use when they'd successfully completed their mission—in Killian's possession since his ensemble had pockets—but Emma already knew even with it it was useless.

Her magic was still gone.

With an audible groan, she gave up trying to get out of here, dropping her face over her crossed arms.

Something about this felt eerily similar, being here, alone in a jail cell.

"Sorry, sweetheart, your boy took off."

She could still remember the first day she spent in prison.

Alone.

Terrified.

She'd curled herself tight on the cot, arms wrapped around her shins, and she didn't sleep a wink.

She waited.

She waited for someone to come, tell her that it was all a misunderstanding, to let her go.

Waited for Neal to show up, to break her out, to save her.

But he never came.

No one ever came.

Not for eleven months.

Not ever.

Emma didn't even realize she was crying until she felt the dirty sleeves of the dress dampen with hot tears.

Did Hook know she was missing?

He'd been taking out the guards on the balcony; he might not even know she was taken. Or by whom.

But even if he did know she was taken, Emma wasn't going to get her hopes up.

Breaking into Regina's castle to save her? The odds of him succeeding were low at best.

He'd be risking his life even thinking about doing such a thing.

Emma suddenly wondered where he was, what he would do, trapped in the past.

Because the last thing she'd ever believe was that he was going to come back for her.

Save her.

No one ever does.

Emma suddenly heard footsteps.

She lifted her face from her arms, where she was huddled in the far corner of the cell, arms still wrapped around her shins, the facsimile of a hug that felt too shallow and cold to be called such a thing.

The footsteps were running. Fast.

Guards.

Emma's heart pounded.

Was it morning already?

Was she out of time?

As much as she had planned to be strong, to fight them, to save herself, panic was suddenly consuming her.

She was going to be executed.

So when the shadow crossed the walls, getting closer and closer, Emma just curled in on herself tighter, trying to swallow the rising fear.

But—

"Emma!"

Emma's fear halted, traded for shock.

Hook.

It was Hook.

The moment he saw her, he ran to the bars of the cell, eyes on her, his relief at finding her quickly dashed. Concern bloomed. "Emma, love," he whispered.

Emma blinked in shock.

He was here.

He came back for her.

Someone came back for her.

She shot to her feet and rushed to the bars, standing inches from him. Her fingers grasped the bar, wondering if she was dreaming. "Hook?"

"Thank the gods I found you," he breathed, a slight, relieved smile at the victory. His eyes then shifted to the bars, looking for—

"It's at the top," whispered Emma quickly. "The lock. I couldn't reach it."

Hook located it, reaching for the lock and using his hook to pick it. A few precious moments ticked by, and Emma could read every anxiety in his face until the lock clicked open, and the chain fell free.

Hook ripped the door open.

Freedom.

But Emma wasn't half as relieved by the freedom as she was by him.

She didn't even think; she grabbed him in a tight hug, practically clinging to him.

He stumbled a little by the force of it, surprised. She held him tightly, eyes shut, relief rushing through her in waves as she breathed in his scent. Familiarity. Safeness. Home.

She didn't know when she'd started thinking of him as home, but right now, she didn't care.

She felt him hold her back after a hesitation of shock. Just as tightly as she held him. "Are you all right?" he whispered. "Are you hurt?"

"You came," she found herself whispering. Her voice like broken confusion.

A tear fell down her cheek.

His hold on her tightened a little. "Of course I came," he said. He pulled back a little. "You thought I wouldn't?" he asked incredulously, like the idea hurt him. But a noise somewhere nearby like a door opening made both of them freeze and Killian's grip on her tighten even more. "We need to get you out of here. Now," he said quickly, eyes locked with hers, fear in them.

Fear for her.

"Come," he breathed, and without hesitation Emma's hand intertwined with his, and she suddenly felt like she never ever wanted to let go.

Killian led the way, seeming to know his way around, and Emma didn't stop to question it. She was glued to his side as they clung to the shadows, every usual strength within her strangely gone, replaced with the fear of her seventeen year old self, trapped in prison with no way out.

Their run through the castle was like a blur of panic, and Emma heard Killian whisper, "We're nearly there, love." And Emma only then realized she was practically crushing his hand.

But they rounded a corner, and Killian skidded to a stop, just as two guards saw them both.

"Bloody hell," cursed Killian.

"The prisoner!" cried one of the guards, recognizing Emma. "The one who aided Snow White's escape!"

"Get her!" growled the other, both unsheathing swords, and Emma felt paralyzed.

"Get behind me!" exclaimed Killian in a desperate breath, releasing her hand—something that felt like panic itself to her—so he could draw his sword.

Emma listened to him, allowing someone else to take control for the first time in what felt like her life, because hell she knew how to fight with her fists but not against swords and not with flashes of the past blinding her, and she felt her hands grasp the back of Killian's jacket, needing something tethering her to him.

He fought off the first guard, both men caught in a flurry of blades, and suddenly Emma felt a burly arm grab her around the waist and yank her back.

"Emma!"

Emma struggled, managing to land her elbow in the man's gut, making him grunt in enough pain to release his hold. And Emma's hands fisted, her heart pounding as she prepared to fight—

But she didn't need to.

Because suddenly Killian was there, standing firmly in front of her, protecting her, knocking out the man with the hilt of his sword.

Both guards lay unconscious on the ground.

Emma was still shaking.

But Killian's hand suddenly found her face, making her look at him. Such determination shone in his eyes. "I won't let anyone take you. I promise." Emma felt her breath skip, a wave of relief feeling like warm sunlight because, for the first time, she didn't have to protect herself alone. Sheathing his sword, Killian again took her hand, holding her even tighter. "Come," he breathed.

They continued on their way out of the castle, this time making it without trouble. But they didn't stop running until they were well away from it, and could no longer even see the castle in the distance.

And without hesitation, Emma dove into his arms, hers wrapped tightly around his waist, burying her face in his chest.

She was crying and for the first time in her life she didn't care that the tears fell, or that they did in front of someone else.

Because for the first time in her life, someone saved her.

For the first time in her life, she didn't have to do it herself.

She could hear him saying her name, his voice surprised, worried, gentle.

She felt him pull back a little, though his arms never loosened around her.

Killian looked at her, noting the tear tracks on her face, old and new, the dirt and the scratches from the rough handling of her by the guards. It looked like his heart broke in his eyes. "Emma, love," he whispered. "Are you all right?"

But Emma was unable to find her voice, because her mind was still caught on something she couldn't understand.

He came back for her.

He saved her.

Her whole life, the only person who ever saved her was her.

No one else bothered to.

But Killian broke into a castle full of guards that would have killed him in an instant, just to save her.

He risked his life.

For her.

The last person Emma trusted put her in prison.

Killian just rescued her from it.

"Emma…?"

He was still staring at her, even more concerned than before.

"You saved me," she whispered.

"Of course I did," he said, like it was the only reasonable answer.

Like there was no world in which he saw himself not saving her.

Ever since Neverland, hell, long before then, Emma had felt… something for him.

After Neverland, it turned into something even more, something that wasn't just interest, something that was feelings.

And ever since she drank that potion, they had only gotten stronger.

She has spent every waking minute shoving those feelings down, trying to bury them, erase them, because she could not—she could not—stand to trust someone again, for someone to break her like a damn promise.

She had planned to run away to New York, to leave it all—leave him—behind.

But tonight…

He had just risked his life to break into a place that would have killed him if it could have, just for her.

Tonight, he did something no one has ever done.

He saved her.

And Emma was beginning to realize he's done so in more ways than one.

He's handed Emma proof that he will be here for her and will never leave.

And it suddenly gave her an overwhelming need to stay.

Like a broken dam, everything that she felt for him, that she's tried to hold back, rose within her, warming her chest, like a tidal wave she couldn't wait to drown in.

Emma smiled, another tear falling, feeling like so much weight had been lifted from her. Like she suddenly couldn't stand to keep herself from him, to hide the fact that she liked him, she more than liked him, that she—

Emma's hand found his, intertwining with his fingers.

And suddenly, a glowing emitted from his pocket, where her fingers brushed it.

They both looked down, to see the wand.

Lit up with magic.

With a gasp, Emma pulled her hand away, and the glow faded.

Killian smiled.

He took out the wand. "Emma," he breathed.

Tentatively, Emma took it, and in an instant, it lit up again.

"My magic!" she breathed. "It's back," she whispered.

"Perhaps it just needed time," he said softly.

But Emma knew what it needed.

She smiled at him, and the warm feeling that was still in her chest.

The feeling that he and he alone elicited.

"Thank you, Killian," said Emma softly. She kissed his cheek, a little shyly, pink coloring the tip of her nose. Electricity like her own magic seemed to spark as she did.

His brows shot up at the sound of his own name, hearing the heaviness of her gratitude. He stared at her in utter shock.

"Let's go home," she whispered.

His brow quirked, something so hopeful in his eyes. "Home?" he echoed.

She smiled, more and more sure with every second. "Storybrooke." she clarified. "I'm not going anywhere."

She took his hand, and Emma had never seen him look as stunned as he did now.

"Aye," he said softly. "Home." He smiled, the word like music to his ears, like a relief of his own.

And she conjured the portal, the glow reflected in their eyes as they jumped through together.

For she was home long before they reached Storybrooke.

-.-.-.-.

tag list: @kmomof4 @justanother-unluckysoul @klynn-stormz @stahlop @ilovemesomekillianjones @hookmecaptain @tiganasummertree @jadehowlettthewolf @jonesfandomfanatic @anmylica @pirateprincessofpizza @stahlop @snowbellewells @eddisfargo @motherkatereloyshipper @csgiftexchange

[cosette141]

You, Me, and Who You Used to Be | CS Fic (CSSS 2024 Gift for BelovedCreation)

Merry Christmas!!

I'm your Santa this year!! :) 🎄🎄

Using your prompts of pining, Enchanted Forest, and angst with a happy ending, I give you:

Summary: (CS movie divergence) After getting her parents back on track, Emma’s magic returns. But before she can conjure a portal home, Killian is abducted. Alone in a world she knows nothing about and with no idea how to find Killian, Emma enlists the only person—or rather, pirate—who would be as motivated to save Killian as she is. However… Killian’s past may just be what destroys the future. CS

AO3

Words (so far): 5k+

NOTE: This is currently only the first chapter of this fic - long story short, the fic I spent weeks on just was not coming together, so I last minute changed to this one. It was an idea I had written the beginning of years ago that I remembered when I was trying to find something to align with the prompts you gave me :D so I knew it would be perfect to write for your gift!! I spent the past week working super hard on this trying to get it finished for you in time, but it was getting so rushed and you do not deserve a rushed gift!! So I decided to give you the first 5k words now, and I'll be updating it with the rest over the coming weeks! :)

Chapter One (under the cut!)

A/N: Story context: This is a canon divergence of the CS movie, which begins right after Emma gets the wand from Rumplestiltskin. (He does not send him to his vault of do-not-touch things in this version tho. We’ll pretend Elsa gets to Storybrooke some other way lol. I’ll also be ignoring Marian, which, the show pretty much did when it just ended up being Zelena anyway lol. 

Emma smiled at the faintly glowing wand in her fingers, feeling the warmth of the return of her magic, lighting a glow in the vast dining room of Rumplestiltskin’s castle. 

Everything was back on track.

Including herself.

Perhaps she had been trying to take the easy way out, blocking her magic from returning so she could go back to New York with no ties left behind. 

But more than anything, it was Killian’s smile now that made the warmth inside her grow even more, and if it wasn’t her imagination, made the wand spark a little brighter.

“It works,” whispered Emma, staring at the wand in awe, eyes snapping to Killian. “My magic is back!”

“I knew you could do it, love.” said Killian softly, a relief in his eyes, like it was for both the possibility of getting back home, and for the fact that he still blamed himself for her powers being taken in the first place. 

“Ah, the Savior, of course,” murmured Rumplestiltskin from his perch on the edge of his dining table. “I should have known you would have magic of your own.”

Emma suddenly realized just how much Rumplestiltskin knew. “Is it a problem that you know…?”

“It would be,” he agreed, but lifted his hand, where a potion bottle materialized. “However, I have spent the past few hours mixing myself a Forgetting Potion.”

Emma smiled. “Good. Well, let’s do this, then.” She then lifted the wand, about to attempt to bring forth the time portal.

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Rumplestiltskin, jumping down and pushing her hand with the wand down. “Not in here. You might bring any number of my possessions with you.”

Emma winced, eyes finding the myriad of scary-looking things in the castle, wondering just how catastrophic that could be. 

She looked from Killian’s raised eyebrow to Rumplestiltskin. “So where do we—“

But not a second later, Rumplestiltskin’s castle was gone, and suddenly they were outside. Trees, greenery and blue sky replaced the walls of the Dark One’s abode. They weren’t too far from the town below, and not far off was the sea. But they were in an empty enough area of the forest that no one should see anything, and nothing should come with them.

 “Well,” said Killian, giving her another smile, “ready, there, Swan?”

Emma nodded. She lifted the wand again, concentrating on her magic, on the emotion in her chest, bright and raw. The tiny flicker of a portal, like a zipper drawn in the very fabric of the air, appeared before them. 

Killian grinned. “That’s it, lo—” 

He was cut off with a grunt, and Emma’s eyes snapped to him, her concentration broken and the tiny beginnings of the portal fizzled back out of existence. 

Emma’s heart stopped. 

They were no longer alone. 

A burly, muscled man had his arm around Killian’s neck in a chokehold, his other arm pinning Killian’s left arm to his side. Killian let out an angry, surprised snarl, jerking hard against the grip. 

“Hook!” cried Emma, jamming the wand in her back pocket to hide it and running toward him, only skidding to a stop when three other thugs suddenly flanked the first.

“Sw—“ began Killian, his right hand scrabbling at the hold around his neck, but his airway was quickly cut off. Red rushed to his face, and Emma’s heart froze.

“Sorry, darlin’,” said the man’s raspy voice. “We got direct orders to bring Captain Hook in. He stole from us last night, and now he gon’ pay. Pretty stupid to show yer face in the open like this, without yer crew, no less.” A dark chuckle. “Shoulda sailed away when he had the chance.” To someone behind him, he shouted, “Lucky catch, men!”

Killian struggled against them, something angry and feral, landing a blow to the man's gut. The man growled and stumbled, and Killian reared back to hit him again until the man snapped, “Stop fightin’ or the wench dies!” That made Killian freeze, staring at her with icy horror. 

For a moment, Emma and Killian stared at each other, and it felt like time stood still.

Panic rushed through Emma's chest.

Magic.

Magic.

But she had no idea how to use her magic.

And if she took even a step forward, she'd get a sword through her in seconds.

Killian grunted as a second thug grabbed him on his other side, ripping Killian's sword from his sheath.

Panic rose even sharper in Emma's chest.

Killian swallowed, eyes locked onto her. “Go—home,” Killian managed, his eyes pleading and broken, with something in them that looked like goodbye, only making Emma’s eyes burn. 

“Hook—!” breathed Emma, running for him, but froze when three swords pointed in her direction, so close to her it made her stumble back, falling to the ground.

And by the time she made it back to her feet, they were gone.

-.-.-.

Dark had fallen.

The air had chilled. 

But none of it gave her the cold dread inside her chest. 

She’d searched for hours.

But those men obviously knew this forest better than she did, and it was easy to get lost in it. 

Too easy.

She let them take him.

Emma kicked herself.

She should have done something.

She should have done something.

She should have been spending all the time back in Storybrooke learning magic instead of shoving it away.

Because now Killian was gone, and it was all her fault.

She got them stuck in the past.

She was the reason Killian stopped trying to free himself from those bastards.

She was the reason that they may never see each other again.

Emma couldn’t stop seeing his eyes. 

The resignation.

The defeat. 

The horrible, utter sadness.

She was now alone, and she’d never felt this alone in her entire life. 

It was one thing to grow up being alone. 

And it was another thing entirely to find people, to fall for people, and to have them ripped from you.

It was an entirely different thing to know what it felt like to not be alone.

And ever since meeting Killian, more or less after he decided to become a part of something , he’d been practically glued to her side. He’d voluntarily gone back to the land he hated more than anywhere, he’d given up his revenge, he’d found her in freaking New York City —an endeavor Emma still didn’t know how he managed to do—and how he managed to find her in a world he knew hardly anything about?

Emma stopped on the path, feeling the chill of the air. 

Even the air felt different in the Enchanted Forest. It felt… unearthly, which, wasn’t exactly off point. The magic in the land seemed to crackle like a charged atmosphere. The animal sounds, the nightly coos and caws were different, and all this different was unsettling and…

She really, really didn’t want to admit she was scared. 

But Emma didn’t have Mary Margaret with her this time. She didn’t have a princess squad to help her through. And, she didn’t have Hook.

Killian, who was god knew where. 

He might even already be—

No , said a firm voice in her head, trying to quell the hair that raised on the back of her neck at the thought. They wouldn’t have kidnapped him if they were going to be quick about it. 

The idea of him suffering at all…

Emma swallowed, hard, trying to shove down the rush of panic that shook her fingers.

How the hell was she supposed to find him?

She was a complete outsider. 

She not only wasn’t from this town, she wasn’t from this world , and she wasn’t from this time, not by a long shot. 

She was trapped thirty years in the past, and Killian could be anywhere. 

“Go home.”

Emma shut her eyes at Killian’s echo.

Go home.

He wanted her to go home.

He wanted her to leave him here, conjure the portal, and go home.

The very fact that he thought she would made her chest hurt, because how could he think she’d leave him here?

But…

“You really thought I’d let you drown?”

“Given our history, can you blame me for being uncertain? ”

Here she was thinking how he could possibly think she didn’t care about him, when…

“Do you even care about them? Or anyone in this town?”

He said anyone.

He meant me.

And replaying it all, how could she think he’d know she did?

All she’s done since he saved her in New York, was walk away from him.

But she did care.

She more than cared.

And now, she may never —

No.

Emma opened her eyes, ignoring the burn in them.

Determination set into her face, Emma made up her mind without hesitation. 

There was no way she was leaving here without Killian.

The thought of returning to life without him, living without him…

It felt wrong. 

Something about him in her life just made sense. Even now, she felt like something was missing, and suddenly she was wondering how she ever considered leaving her family, leaving him, to go back to New York. 

“Go home.”

She couldn’t go home when he already became her home.

But… 

How on earth—or, how in the Enchanted Forest—was she supposed to find him?

And before they did something terrible and irreversible to him?

“He stole from us last night. Now he’s gon' pay.”

Emma blinked. 

Killian didn’t steal anything from anyone; she knew he hadn’t. He’d been too concerned with messing up the time continuum.

He hadn’t stolen.

But Emma had a pretty good feeling who had.

And Killian was currently paying for his crime. 

Emma smiled grimly, a plan unfolding in her head. 

She started walking, faster this time.

She just hoped the Jolly Roger was still in port. 

-.-.-.

Emma clung to the shadows when she entered the town. 

Thanks to Rumplestiltskin returning her clothes, she was no longer wearing the ragged dress and cloak that they had stolen, and was back in her jeans and leather jacket. Something that, Killian’s voice reminded her, hasn’t come into vogue, ever. So… she had to be careful. They just fixed the timeline; they cannot ruin it all over again.

But Killian was worth that risk.

As she clung to the dark areas of town, Emma was reminded of a younger her, living on the streets, dodging shadowy corners to pitch black alleyways. It was evening, the sky blackening with an array of stars, but the town still bustled with life, mostly around the taverns. 

Emma passed the tavern she and Killian had found his past-self in, and Emma risked a look inside, but he wasn’t there. 

Her heart quickening, Emma suddenly worried he wasn’t even in town.

She picked up her pace, following the path past-Hook had led her down when he’d been her inebriated guide. 

Emma emerged from the cover of an alley, looking up to see the sea, and ships of all sizes moored at the docks. And among them—

Emma felt relief flood her. 

The Jolly Roger. 

She smiled despite herself, picking up her pace. As she got closer, she could see the crew retracting the anchor—

They were leaving. 

Her heart pounding, Emma began to sprint. 

With grunts of heaving, two members of the Jolly’s crew were lifting the gangplank.

It was halfway up when Emma got to it, flinging herself off the dock and onto it, barely making the jump. She slid down the wood, landing in a heap on the deck. 

“What in the blazes—?!”

The two men nearly dropped the gangplank, but managed to finish shutting it, faster, as if worrying that someone else was going to attempt Emma’s jump. 

Her entire body throbbing from the mistreatment, Emma slowly picked herself up from the deck. She quickly noticed at least a dozen pirates were staring at her in shock. 

But a voice broke through the din, and Emma would recognize it anywhere. 

“Well, you don’t bloody see something like that every day.”

-.-.-.

Despite her protests, Emma had been manhandled by two of the crew members and dragged into the Captain’s Quarters a moment after she’d seen him. He’d witnessed her reckless jump onto his ship, but hadn’t said a word to her yet. 

She was currently in the chair opposite his desk, two burly hands on her shoulders keeping her pinned down, and Hook was in his chair behind the desk, staring at her in silence. 

“What are you doing aboard my ship?” he said finally. 

Emma flicked her eyes to the pirate holding her down, then back to Hook. “I’ll tell you, but only you.”

Hook sighed, then flicked his eyes to the man behind her, giving a minute nod and a slight roll of his eyes. Then, when the door clicked shut, he gave her a pointed look.

Emma let out a breath, her heart beating in a frenzy. This Hook was not half as drunk as he was when they last met. His gaze on her was cold and measured and there was no trace of the softness Killian had now. It unnerved her, this air of danger he held, sitting before her. Waiting. 

But Emma swallowed, trying to remember, this is still Killian. Just… buried under two hundred years of pain and resentment. 

It didn’t make her feel better. 

“I need your help.” said Emma at last, holding his gaze. 

His brow lifted, like that was the last thing he’d expected her to say. “My help?” he echoed, lips twisting a little in amusement. “I’m a pirate captain, lass. You’ve mistaken me for someone who gives. Pirates take.”

Emma resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the irony that all he’s done the past two years was give. 

Worry fluttered in her stomach, suddenly wondering if her Killian was all right.

And when did he start being ‘her’ Killian?

Emma let out another breath. “Yeah, that’s actually what brings me here. All I need to know,” said Emma slowly, “is who you stole from last night.” 

She’d thought it through; if she could just get the name or the place of the person who he’d stolen from, she could go find Killian without Hook ever needing to know she was from the future. 

Hook paused. 

Suspicion suddenly gleamed in his eyes. 

He stood, and rounded his desk until he was standing before her. 

The suspicion only deepened in his eyes.

Emma could feel the danger radiate off him like a cologne. 

She was trying not to shrink under his intense gaze when he leaned even closer, his face inches from hers. He searched her eyes.

“You,” he whispered. “I remember you.”

Emma’s heart skipped. “You do?” she breathed. 

She should have known it was irrational to think he meant he remembered knowing her. 

Because his eyes narrowed, coldness in the blue. “You owe me a nightcap, love.”

Emma froze. “Oh,” she said, biting her lip. “Didn’t blame the rum, huh?”

He leaned back slightly, but looked no less predatory. “I’m guessing this is from you as well,” he said, brushing the metal of his hook to his cheek where Killian had hit him. 

Emma winced. “Not exactly—“

He was suddenly in her face again, eyes narrowed, colder than ice. “You were trying to get me drunk. To get on my ship,” he muttered. “Why?”

Oops.

Emma tried to think fast. 

She did not like a version of Killian that scared her, and this one did exactly that. 

As if to prove the point, he raised his hook, tracing her jaw until the tip was underneath her chin, forcing her head up. Emma gasped reflexively, suddenly realizing how bad of an idea this had been. “Tell me,” he hissed, “or this will be rather unpleasant.”

Emma swallowed, trying to stem the rush of fear. To hell with the timeline. “I’m from the future.”

His brow rose sharply, surprise and a little confusion slipping into that cold expression. Clearly time travel was not one of the things he’d expected her to say. 

It was the second time she’d surprised him, and Emma knew he wasn’t an easily surprised man.

Before he could interrupt, she went on, wincing as the sharp tip of his hook stung. “I’m telling you the truth,” she said quickly, fear sending a shiver down her spine. “I’m from… about thirty years in the future. I think. It’s really hard to keep track with all the curses," she finished, which even to her ears sounded like she was crazy.

“Time travel is unheard of.” said Hook, dismissing her whole story.

"You spend two hundred years on an island where time doesn't even exist and this is too crazy for you to imagine?" snapped Emma exasperatedly.

He ignored her. “Now, what are you really doing on my ship? Clearly if you’d gotten what you wanted, you wouldn’t have been daft enough to return.” His eyes looked her up and down, his brow lifting when his eyes reached hers, and Emma glared at him. “And if I had gotten what I wanted, that night would not have ended with you injuring me.” A cold smile. “Well, not in the traditional way, anyway.”

Emma huffed out a breath, almost forgetting just how innuendo-clad he once was. “Look, I’m telling the truth . I need your help to—“ She gasped, the tip of his hook digging slightly deeper. 

“You will tell me what I want to know,” said Hook quietly. He removed his namesake, and Emma winced. “I’ll give you the night to think it over. Lie to me again," his voice lowering, dipping into the personification of danger as his gaze bored into hers, and she tried not to shrink under it, "you’ll be walking the plank in the morning.” He moved away from her, and Emma realized she'd forgotten how to breathe.

“Hook—“ began Emma, but Hook simply barked, “Jenkins!”

The door opened, and one of the men who had dragged her down here walked inside. 

“Take her to the brig.”

Emma’s heart pounded. “No— Hook,” she said quickly as he sat nonchalantly back at his desk. “I need—“

Emma was grabbed from behind and forced out. 

He didn’t look up as they took her. 

But when he thought she was out of sight, she saw him briefly touch his fingers to his lips, something unreadable stirring in his eyes.

-.-.-.-.

Emma waited until she was left alone, and the ship had quieted down enough to suggest the crew was asleep.

They’d bound her hands in front of her, which was their first mistake. 

Feeling a sense of deja vu, Emma felt along the ground until she found something useful. Finding something sharp and thin enough to work, she quickly got to work on the lock to the cage. 

The trouble was opening the door without it creaking, which took her plenty of precious minutes. 

Once free, she left the brig, and quietly made her way to the armory.

It was good that she was familiar with the ship after Neverland. Plenty of hours on the water had her nervous energy getting the better of herself and she’d done some extensive exploring. She’d paced the ship enough to know where its creaky boards were, so she was inside the armory in silence quickly. 

Emma grabbed the first blade she could find—a knife—and freed her hands, then took the gag from her mouth. 

Gripping the knife in her shaking hands, Emma left the armory, walking down the hallway to the door at the very end. 

The Captain’s Quarters. 

Feeling plenty of uncertainty, but needing to know where Killian was, Emma slowly reached for the door handle, glad the ridiculously loud chorus of snoring from the crew covered much of the noise she made. 

Slowly and without breathing, she opened his door. 

Emma shut it just as quietly, and the noise of the snoring was muted. 

Emma turned. 

The cabin was dark. 

And there, lying on his bed, was Hook. Asleep.

She could see him breathe beneath the blanket. 

Carefully, and avoiding every creak in the floor she knew of, Emma crept up to his bed. 

Then, she held the knife an inch from his throat, opening her mouth to wake him.

“Do I need to explain what a nightcap is to you?”

Emma jumped a mile in her skin.

Hook’s eyes were open, and he looked from the knife at his throat to Emma. A raised brow, he deadpanned, “You escaped.”

“You underestimated me.” she countered. He lifted his brow as Emma continued firmly, “I need you to help me.”

“Help me?” he echoed. His eyes flicked from the knife to her eyes. “You’re taking your life in your hands threatening me, lass.” he said dangerously.

“I’m trying to save your life!” snapped Emma.

His brow hitched higher, again flicking his eyes pointedly to the blade, then back at her. 

Emma sighed, removing the knife from his throat. 

He still didn’t move, eyeing her still suspiciously. “How is it you think you’re saving me?” he asked. 

Emma sighed shortly. “Look. I told you I was from the future. I am. I’m from your future. And I didn’t get sent to the past alone.” She took a breath, hoping telling him wouldn’t implode the timeline. But she was scared, she was alone, and without his information, she would never be able to find Killian. She could only hope that after she saved Killian, he’d still exist when they returned to their time. 

Emma sighed. “When I got sent here, you came with me.” she said finally.

Confusion kneaded his brows with honest puzzlement, and for the first time he looked almost like her Killian. “I… what?” he managed.

Emma sighed shortly. “You— future you,” clarified Emma. “You’re here, in the past, too.”

Hook looked lost in thought for a second. Then— “That was bloody real?”

“What was?” asked Emma.

He sat up, regarding her with both suspicion and shock. “The dream I thought I had of you, up until you foolishly returned.” Emma glared at him flatly as he went on, “I saw…”

“Yourself,” finished Emma impatiently. “Yeah. You punched yourself.” At his very perplexed expression, she went on, “I told him—you—it was a bad idea. So, blame yourself.” He blinked in utter confusion. But, at least, he seemed to believe her story. “Look,” said Emma, “we were on our way back to the future when some huge guys kidnapped him because they said he stole something and he needed to ‘pay for it’.” she finished in a bad facsimile of Killian’s abductor’s voice. Her eyes burning into Hook’s, she said, “What did you steal? Who are they and where did they take him?”

“You’re telling me,” said Hook slowly, “that there is a future version of me out here?”

“Yes,” said Emma through gritted teeth. “Now what did you—“

“Tell me, love,” said Hook casually enough, though the coldness in his words was back. “What is my future?”

“I can’t tell you that,” she said exasperatedly. “Already I need to get you a Forgetting Potion to make sure you get to that future.”

He stared at her for a long moment, a million things happening behind guarded eyes. But finally, his brow lifted a fraction. “And I’m just supposed to believe this?" 

Emma groaned. “What proof do you want?” she said impatiently. “Your father abandoned you and Liam; you used to be in the Royal Navy; you became a pirate after what happened to Liam in Neverland; you’re currently on a suicidal mission to kill Rumplestiltskin for taking your hand and Mila—“

“Stop!” 

Emma froze, having been angrily ticking off the trivia on her fingers, to see Hook’s eyes with more emotion than she’s seen from this version of him yet. 

“How do you know all that?” he breathed. For once, his voice lost Hook’s edge, and he sounded like Killian. The danger evaporated from him in seconds, replaced with something almost... lost. “It’s—it's been centuries since—"

“You told me.” said Emma simply. 

“I… told you,” repeated Hook flatly, words rolling off his tongue like something foreign. The edge in his voice swiftly returned as he demanded angrily, “And why the bloody hell would I do that?” 

“How should I know?” snapped Emma, her anxiety getting to her and sharpening her own tone.

He rose to his feet, and Emma did not like the feeling that he was attempting to use his height over hers to intimidate her. He leveled a look at her, with something different in his eyes, something dangerous in a new way. “Tell me one thing, lass," he began, voice casual-sounding, but underlined with something that sent a shiver down her spine, "and maybe I help you.”

“Why wouldn’t you help me?” exclaimed Emma, standing her ground. “You’d be helping you!”

“That remains to be seen.” He stepped toward her, and damn it he didn’t even need the hook to be imposing. “Tell me, lass.” Another step, and Emma felt her back hit the wall, not even realizing she’d been retreating. His gaze bored into hers. “Do I get my revenge?”

Emma swallowed, suddenly feeling a familiar sense of dread as to when the past version of Rumplestiltskin had asked about whether or not he found Neal.

When the silence spread a little too long, she whispered, “Hook—”

“Do I, or not?” he demanded, voice clipped. Cold.

Dangerous.

Emma felt paralyzed.

The Hook—the Killian —standing before her was completely hellbent on getting his revenge. He’s been at it for centuries, and the anger and pain in his eyes overpowered the blue in them, so much so it was hard to remember that Killian and Hook were the same person.

And here, Hook was his vengeance right now.

There was hardly a spark of him.

If she told him the truth, that he not only doesn’t kill his crocodile, but chooses to live peacefully in the same town as the monster? Gives up not only his quest for vengeance, but turns into a hero?

And worse yet, that he lets go of Milah?

For her?

From the amount of anger she’s eliciting from him right now, she doubted he’d be happy to know that information in particular.

So, she decided to tell him the truth.

Or…

Part of it.

“No,” she said finally, watching his brow shift dangerously. “Not yet.”

He searched her eyes, his face like stone. “Not yet?” he repeated, voice low, almost threatening.

Emma swallowed the fear slipping down her spine, hoping she was still as good of a liar as she once was. “Not yet,” she confirmed, which, still, wasn’t a complete lie. She took a breath, holding his gaze, preparing herself. 

And she lied.

“I’m helping you get your revenge in the future,” she said smoothly. “The Dark One is currently living in a realm without magic. He’s vulnerable. I’m helping you get there.” She swallowed, her entire body rigid. Hook was pin-silent as Emma finished, “We accidentally got sent to the past on our way there. That’s why I need you to help me. If you don’t, you will never get your revenge.”

Emma fell quiet, holding her head high, clinging onto confidence she didn’t feel in the slightest.

Killian could read her like an open book.

If this version of him was as perceptive as he comes to be…

If he found her lying to him…

Again …

Emma tried to ignore the fear prickling in her veins.

He held her gaze, pinning her to the spot with his eyes alone. Watching her eyes carefully, his narrowed. 

Finally, he said, “Why are you helping me?”

Emma tried not to flinch at the obvious distaste in his voice. She thought fast, and found something that held nothing but truth. “Because,” she said, “you did me a favor. I’m repaying a debt.”

His brow lifted. “Quite the debt.”

Emma felt something stir in her chest, thinking of all that Killian has done for her. “It was quite the favor,” she said quietly.

His brows kneaded with question, like he wasn’t sure why he would bother to do her a favor.

Emma was quickly becoming irritated with this version of Hook.

“How are you helping me?” he asked then, gaze boring into hers, almost as if he was trying to poke holes into her story to see if it would leak. “Why do I need you?”

It was spoken so carelessly.

And it hurt.

Emma was surprised at the sudden burn behind her eyes.

She’d brushed off Killian’s affections, his obvious devotion to her, more times than she could count. 

And here he was, looking at her like he couldn’t have cared about her less.

How could she have wasted all the time she had with him?

Getting him back now was the longest of long shots, for—and it made sharp fear race down her spine— he could already be dead.

Blinking away the emotion, Emma huffed out a breath, trying not to appear as hurt by his words as she was. “I’ve got Light Magic,” she snapped, making surprise lift his brow. “You’re trying to kill the Dark One. Do the math.”

He stared at her for a long moment, eyes narrowed, danger rolling off him in waves.

Finally, he spoke.

“I help you, and, him,” he muttered, uneasily over what to call his future self, “get back to your time,” he said slowly, “and then I will get what I want most?”

Emma felt the ghost of a smile touch her lips, for she didn’t have to lie for this one. “Yes.” 

He most definitely will. 

-.-.-.-. TBC

@belovedcreation-kitr-headcanon @cssecretsanta2020 @belovedcreation

[callsign-mayhem]

i'm with the band (part 1)

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Female!Reader & Bradley Bradshaw x Female!Reader (final pairing to be revealed at the end...) Word count: 7.6k CW: Use of Y/N; reader wears Dr Martens, but that's the only specific detail.

You discover that your best friend Bob can play the drums, and since you have some musical gifts of your own, you decide to start a navy band. It's supposed to be a bit of harmless fun, but what happens when lines get blurred between you and Bob, feelings come to the surface, and a certain Rooster gets jealous?

This is a multi-part fic. Part two

‘If I’d known you could play the drums like that,’ you said, looping your arm through Bob’s. ‘I’d have suggested starting a band months ago!’ 

As the two of you walked across the near-empty runway, you mourned all the time you’d wasted already and wondered how soon you could get a move on with your idea. Bob was smiling shyly, eyes fixed firmly on the tarmac. You knew he didn’t think he drummed well enough to be in a band. You also knew he had a habit of being too hard on himself. 

It was pure chance that had led you to discover Bob’s affinity for music. You’d been standing outside the front door of his house with a box of doughnuts in your hand, ready to surprise your friend, when you’d frozen. 

Somebody was drumming—drumming well.

 It sounded perfect, not just messy noise and missed beats, and it was coming from Bob’s small garage. Resolutely, you’d hurried back down the stairs that led up to the red front door and crept across the well-kept lawn. Once you’d safely hidden behind a fern closer to the garage, you’d realised that a backing track was playing over a speaker, which Bob was drumming to. It was a Catfish and the Bottlemen song—one of his favourite bands. Even now—days later—you still weren’t over it; how your heartbeat had fallen in time with Bob’s drumming and how alive it had made you feel. 

And then there was the small matter of how good he’d looked doing it. 

Bob Floyd had been your closest friend in San Diego since you were first called back to TOPGUN many moons ago. Both of you were Weapons Systems Officers; this similarity was the gravitational force that had pulled you together, but how much you had in common kept you that way. With this being said, you were having a hard time justifying your body’s reaction when you peeked around the fern and into the garage that day. He was wearing a white t-shirt, the front of which was soaked with sweat, his hair was uncharacteristically mussed, and he wasn’t wearing his glasses. 

Eventually, you’d decided to announce yourself, but not before heavily debating whether or not you should just take yourself home and have a cold shower. In the days since, your brain had habitually dredged your unholy thoughts up from the dark corner you’d haphazardly shoved them into. The veins in his hands and forearms, the way his biceps moved when he hit the drums, the furrow of his sweat-slicked brow, his messy hair… It was too much. 

The two of you were nearing the changing rooms, where you’d go separate ways to shower and change. You knew if you let the idea of starting a band drop again, that would be it. Bob would have to give in eventually, so long as you were persistent. 

‘You’re so talented, Bobby.’ You said. ‘I can play guitar, and I’m an alright singer. We’d only need to find a bass player and a lead guitarist.’ 

Bob scoffed. ‘You’re more than alright, Y/CS. Now who’s the one putting themselves down?’

Your face heated up, and for once, you were glad that Bob struggled to maintain eye contact. 

‘Well, thank you.’ You murmured.

Momentarily disarmed, you walked a few paces in companionable silence. Surprisingly, Bob was the one to break it. 

‘I’m not saying no,’ he told you. ‘I’m just not thrilled at the idea of people hearing me play. I didn’t even tell you that I could.’

‘And that’s saying something,’ you grumbled. ‘Okay, let’s shelve it for now. What do you say we go out for drinks tonight, and we can brainstorm.’

Luckily, Bob wasn’t in the habit of saying no to his best friend. 

He probably couldn’t even if he wanted to. 

Summer was winding down, and although it was never freezing in San Diego, the evenings were beginning to get chillier. As you approached The Hard Deck and saw Bob sitting outside waiting, you were glad you’d decided to wear a jacket. 

He sat with his back to the bar, looking out over the sand and the ocean beyond it. The fiery sunset made it seem like the beach was doused with honey, and you were momentarily reminded why you loved your station so much. You didn’t want to startle Bob, who was—let’s face it—easily startled, so you walked around the car park and up the decking instead of going up behind him. He watched you close the short distance from the edge of the seating area to the table with an easy smile on his face. 

That’s how it always was with you and Bob. Easy. 

‘I was beginning to think I’d been stood up.’ He said as you took the seat opposite him.

‘Sorry. I was gonna drive, but then I decided it was too nice, and I didn’t know if we’d drink much.’

‘I never drink much.’

You reached over and ruffled his perfect hair. ‘I know, Bobby, but there’s a first time for everything.’

A Peroni was already waiting for you, and Bob was nursing an ice-cold Corona Light. He probably wouldn’t drink more than two tonight since it was a work night. Then again, he remained his sensible self on the weekends too. Jake and Bradley had tried countless times to get him to ‘let loose,’ and you’d backed Bob up every single time, telling them firmly that not everybody needed to get shit-faced to have a good time. Jake usually responded with some variation of ‘you don’t need a car to get places either, darlin’, but it sure helps.’ 

You took a sip of your pint, glad to find it had a dash of lime. Bob never forgot anything, least of all your drink order. 

‘So,’ you grinned devilishly. ‘The band.’

The corner of his lips twitched as he fought a smile. ‘There is no band.’

‘There is no band yet. I plan on changing that. I think we should make a poster to put up around base. There’s a notice board in the female changing rooms, so I’m assuming there’s one in yours, too. We could also put a few up in the barracks.’ 

Even though Bob seemingly didn’t want to start this band, he suggested asking Penny’s permission to put some in both bathrooms in The Hard Deck as well. 

‘While we’re at it, we could put a few up around town,’ you added. ‘Unless we want this to be a navy-only band.’  

Bob pushed his glasses up his nose and sipped his beer. You knew him well, including all his mannerisms and facial expressions. He was antsy and had the look he always had when Jake or Javy tried to extort personal information from him, like if he’d slept with anyone lately. 

‘There’s something you don’t wanna tell me.’ You stated. 

‘No, there isn’t.’ He tried to insist, but his heart wasn’t in it.

‘Look, Bobby. We don’t have to do this if it makes you uncomfortable. I’ll drop it now and never speak of it again.’ For whatever reason, you found yourself reaching out and taking his hand. It was cold from gripping his beer bottle. ‘But before you say yes to that with what I’m sure will be a massive amount of relief, I want you to know that you’re mega-talented. It’s not just a case of me thinking it—it’s an undeniable fact. If we find some decent bandmates and give this our all, we could have a lot of fun.’ 

Bob’s eyes were boring holes into the wooden picnic table. ‘I know we’d have fun, but would we have to play in front of people?’

‘If you really didn’t want to, we wouldn’t. But we’ve gotta find two more members and see if we can all work together before we even start thinking about that kind of thing.’ You squeezed his hand reassuringly. ‘It’s just a bit of harmless fun. What do you say?’

He met your eyes and smiled sheepishly. ‘Okay, fine.’

‘Yay!’ You shouted, practically jumping out of your seat to run around and hug him. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck from behind and leaned down so your face was next to his. After the initial shock had worn off, he reached up and put his hands over your forearms. It was the most awkward hug ever, but it was the best the two of you could do at such short notice. 

‘I’ll start working on the posters tomorrow when I get home.’ 

Bradley knew that you and Bob were close, and he understood why. You were both WSOs, both loved music, and you were both quiet. When the group was overly drunk or rowdy, or the conversation ended up in territories neither of you was comfortable with, you retreated into your own private world. Bradley had seen it happen more than enough times: the way you eased each other’s anxiety just by sitting close together, the knowing looks you shared when one of the daggers did something predictable, the inside jokes and references you made that left everyone else feeling like they were on the outside of something.

It was hard to ignore.

Bradley wasn’t as unruly as Mickey or as daring as Jake and Javy. He wasn’t as stern and fierce as Natasha and didn’t ramble about sports when drunk like Reuben. But he wasn’t a wallflower like you or Bob, either. He was something else entirely. 

Bradley prided himself on his ability to fit in anywhere. He could talk to almost anyone about anything, but still, he felt something was missing. He didn’t have one specific person he thought he was in tandem with. At first, he liked it. When he was young, he thought it meant he was just a social butterfly, able to jump from group to group and fit into them all. As he got older, he felt out of step, like one of his legs was longer than the other.

He wanted to find his person. The one he could sit with at the bar and judge everyone else with. The one he could communicate with through a single facial expression or private joke—whose mere presence would comfort him. 

Bradley was sitting inside with the rest of the daggers. They were only having a quiet few, then heading home. Natasha was thrashing Mickey at pool, and Jake was attempting to show Javy how he managed to get a bullseye almost every time in darts. Bradley and Reuben sat at a high table nearby, chatting about this and that. They were next to the window that looked out across the outdoor seating area, and Bradley had been glancing at you and Bob all evening. At first, he’d been waiting for you to wrap things up and come and join in. Then, when you came in to get another drink before heading back outside, he wondered if something had happened. Maybe it was something you didn’t want to talk to the rest of the daggers about. He watched as closely as he could without making it evident to the rest of his friends. Natasha was already convinced he had a thing for you—he didn’t feel like adding fuel to that particular fire today, thank you very much. 

Judging by the way you were talking exciting with your hands, he knew the two of you weren’t talking about something bad. Then, he saw you run around the table and hug Bob, and he wondered if he’d gotten this totally wrong. The whole group, aside from him and Natasha, were convinced that you and Bob were more than best friends. Jake and Javy teased you incessantly, and he was pretty sure that Mickey had started the bet on base as to how long it would take for the two of you to admit your feelings for one another. Bradley had ten bucks on this never happening because he was very close with Nat who was very close with you, and you always reassured her that you and Bob weren’t a thing. Bradley wasn’t a girl, but he understood that if you were lying, Natasha would know. Girlfriends always know when their girlfriends are lying, especially regarding guys. 

So Bradley was confused. He’d never seen you and Bob hug before, and you’d never spent a whole evening separate from the group, knowing said group was ten feet away. Something was going on, and Bradley was desperate to know what. Part of him wanted to take this to Natasha for a second opinion, but she would only accuse him of jealousy. 

Maybe he was jealous, but he didn’t need his best friend telling him that. How could he not be jealous when you looked, walked, and talked like that? When were you so intelligent, caring, and mindful of other people’s feelings? When you sang with him at the piano some nights, music coursing through your veins the same way it coursed through his?

Bradley had always known that you and Bob were close. He understood why. But just because he understood why didn’t mean he had to be okay with it. 

Bob was working out in the gym on base when you cornered him the next day. It had been a slow morning and an even slower afternoon, which was welcomed after almost a fortnight of incessant training courses. He was lifting weights with his headphones on when he felt a presence at the bottom of the bench. He finished his reps, lifted the barbell back onto its stand and sat up. You were standing with a stack of papers in your hands and a face that meant business, and you were saying something Bob couldn’t hear. He removed his headphones, just about catching the back end of your sentence.

‘—so all you need to do is put one in the guy’s changing rooms and stalls. Mav is taking some to Penny’s tonight.’ 

This was all happening very fast.

‘I thought you were making posters tonight after work.’ He said, scratching the back of his head.

‘I was, but I couldn’t sleep when I got home ‘cause I was too excited.’ 

It pleased Bob to see you so joyful and filled with passion. There was nothing he loved more. But he couldn’t help but feel strange about the whole band thing. You were never supposed to find out that he could drum, mainly because he didn’t think he was that great at it. He was embarrassed that you’d seen him so unfiltered, and in a way, it made him feel vulnerable. The prospect of other people seeing him in the same way made him more than a little nervous. On a daily basis, he blended into the background. The only person he stood out to most of the time was you; he liked it that way. He didn’t want to stand out to anyone else; he didn’t want anyone’s eyes on him. 

But he had to admit that making music with you did seem appealing. The two things he loved most in the world come together as one. If the band ended up being as good as you wanted it to be and you managed to score some gigs, he would find a way to be okay with it. 

Anything to keep that smile on your face. 

‘You wanna come over later?’ Bob asked. ‘We could order dinner, maybe try out a few songs. I haven’t heard you sing in a while, and you’ve never played your guitar for me.’ 

You flushed scarlet, and Bob wondered if you were just as shy when playing for people as he was. You hid it better than he did, like everything else. 

‘That’d be nice. We can start thinking about a setlist.’

‘I think we need to find some bandmates before we make a setlist.’

‘It doesn’t hurt to have some ideas for when we finally meet aforementioned bandmates,’ you said optimistically. ‘I think they’ll find our eagerness enticing.’

Bob couldn’t help but laugh. ‘You’re perfect, you know that?’

He wasn’t wearing his glasses, so it was somehow easier to keep eye contact. Like being half-blind made him more confident. He supposed if he couldn’t see your reactions clearly, he wouldn’t have to worry about what he said as much. 

‘Well, so are you.’ You replied timidly. 

‘My place at seven?’

‘It’s a date.’

Bob was only half blind, not totally. He saw your whole demeanour change when you realised what you’d said.

‘N-not a date,’ you stammered. ‘That’s not what I meant.’

He smiled. ‘It’s okay, I know what you meant.’

‘Okay,’ you breathed. ‘Your place at seven.’

Your cheeks were flushed with embarrassment, and you looked everywhere but at him, but he thought you were adorable. 

By seven-thirty, you were scarfing egg rolls at your best friend’s place. It was his turn to pick the takeout, and he’d chosen Chinese. Your laptop was on your knee, and you were going through your ‘Songs That Would Wake Me From a Coma’ playlist, explaining to Bob what you loved about each one. He had a similar playlist, and whenever you played something that was also on his, the smile on his face got larger. He’d been smiling at you all day, and you could scarcely believe he’d been on the fence about starting a band together. He didn’t seem nervous now, and the two of you had fallen into your usual, easy rhythm. 

After dinner, Bob helped you get your guitar and amp from your car. You had a black Fender Dreadnought for playing acoustic, but since you’d be playing electric in the band, you brought your Gretsch. It was the same guitar Patrick Stump of Fall Out Boy played, and it was your pride and joy. 

Bob’s garage was perfect for band rehearsals. He left his car on the drive and used the garage as his music room since his house was relatively small. This was how he’d managed to hide his talent from you for so long. What reason would you have to go in his garage? 

It was soundproofed since drumming was hands down the nosiest hobby a person could have, and he’d outfitted the place with creature comforts: a mini fridge for sodas and snacks, a small leather couch with blankets and pillows, framed band posters on the walls, a tasteful rug, and, of course, his drum kit. You’d never played, but it didn’t take a genius to know that it must have cost a pretty penny. You could tell that Bob took good care of it, too.

‘Bobby, this is going to be perfect. We’ll be able to practise here.’ 

‘We’ll probably have to get some more kit. Mics, some more amps. Pedals.’

‘Any guitarist worth their salt will already have that kinda stuff. I have tonnes of shit in my lockup. Haven’t got a mic or a stand, though.’

‘We can cross that bridge when we come to it.’

‘We’ve been saying that a lot lately,’ you grinned. ‘There’s a lot of bridges in our future.’

You got comfy on the couch, and Bob perched himself on the stool behind his drum kit. He watched as you expertly tuned your guitar, fingers moving over the pegs with the kind of surety that only came with doing something a million times. 

‘What shall I play?’ You asked.

‘Play me your go-to when you’re just playing for yourself.’

Since you always played for yourself, you had no shortage of options. But you settled on your favourite: the solo from Wrong Side of Heaven by Five Finger Death Punch. It was short but tricky and had taken you months to perfect. Maybe you were showing off, but you were proud that you could play it, and you’d be damned if Bob’s shocked expression wasn’t worth it. 

When you were finished, he stood up and gave you a round of applause. You had no idea what to feel. Embarrassment or pride? A mixture of both? 

‘Damn,’ Bob breathed. ‘That was insane. You’re a total rockstar, Y/CS.’ 

‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ you chuckled. ‘But thank you. It took me so long to learn how to play that.’ ‘That’s like me and Psychosocial.’

You raised a brow. ‘Slipknot?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I didn’t take you for a Slipknot kinda guy, Bobby.’

‘I listen to a few of their songs,’ he explained. ‘But it’s more that they’re really fun to play.’

You gestured to his drum kit. ‘Well, go on then.’

‘No way,’ Bob shook his head. ‘I’ll screw it up in front of you.’

‘Please?’ You pouted. 

So you spent the next few hours taking turns playing parts of songs you knew, bonding over your shared favourites and introducing one another to new music. You were going to stop for the night, but then you discovered that Bob knew how to play some of the same songs as you, and you started playing together. 

You were the one who suggested starting a navy band—you knew it would be entertaining—but playing with Bob like this… There were no words to describe how incredible it felt. 

It was Reuben’s idea to go out for dinner that Saturday night, but now that day had finally arrived, Bradley regretted saying yes. It had been pouring rain all day, putting a pin in his plans to swim at the beach. Then, his dryer—which was second-hand and had always been temperamental at best—had finally packed up, with his soaking wet uniform for Monday still inside. The last thing he wanted to do was get himself ready and drive halfway across town to Little Italy, but every excuse he typed out to the group chat sounded meagre and childish. He ended up deleting them and getting himself in the shower, hoping that going out with his closest friends would lift his mood, even though he couldn’t be bothered to leave his house. 

Autumn was quickly closing in, and Bradley was glad he had a reason to wear his favourite jacket again— a vintage, fleece-lined Levi number covered in patches that had belonged to his dad. He took it from his wardrobe and laid it on his bed, along with a pair of black jeans, a Smiths t-shirt and his Chelsea boots. The day he’d bought—or rather, been forced to buy—those boots was still fresh in his memory. It wasn’t long after you’d all been called back to TOPGUN for the special detachment. In fact, it was only a few days after the daggers had received the news that they’d be staying in San Diego permanently. It was a day not unlike this one, and he’d been at the mall looking for a suit to wear to a wedding he was flying home for. He rounded a corner on his way to Starbucks into a head-on collision with you. He hadn’t known you long, only since that first night in The Hard Deck when everyone either reunited with old friends or made new ones. 

‘I’m so, so sorry,’ you gasped. ‘What an idiot, I’m so clumsy.’

Your shopping bags had fallen to the floor, and you were scrambling to pick them up, not having realised who you’d just bumped into. Bradley was so caught up admiring you in your long-sleeve dress and boots that he forgot his manners. He’d never seen you out of uniform and suddenly felt very cheated. 

You were gorgeous. 

‘No, it’s my fault,’ he insisted, crouching down to help you gather your things. ‘Sorry, Y/CS.’

Your head snapped up, and you met his gaze, a shy smile taking hold of your delicate features. ‘Rooster,’ you breathed. ‘How didn’t I know that was you?’

The two of you stood up at the same time, almost bumping heads. ‘Beats me,’ he chuckled. I’m big enough to see.’ 

Your laugh was a little more on the awkward side, and he briefly wondered if you’d missed his sarcasm. 

‘Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw,’ you’d said toyingly. ‘Callsign: Beanpole.’

Until now, Bradley hadn’t thought you capable of a jibe like that. You were quiet at work, only speaking when necessary, as though you believed that if you didn’t have anything to add to the conversation, it wasn’t worth speaking at all. The most he’d seen you speak was with Bob about work, and with Coyote, since you were his backseater. 

He was sure his laughter echoed through the entire shopping centre. 

‘You shopping for anything in particular?’ He asked, desperate to keep the conversation going and that smile on your pretty face. 

‘New boots,’ you replied. ‘Dr Martens have brought out their new Fall collection.’

Bradley glanced at the boots you were wearing and realised he’d just learned a little something about Lieutenant Y/N Y/L/N. ‘I just bought a new suit,’ he told you. ‘I could use a nice new pair of shoes to go with it if you’d like some company.’

‘Well, sure. I don’t see why not.’ You blinked, taken aback.

Bradley couldn’t understand why you were surprised that he wanted to spend time with you. Before heading to the Dr Martens store, the two of you stopped at Starbucks. He explained that he was initially heading there before he so rudely knocked into you and asked if he could buy you a coffee by way of apology. You’d told him he didn’t need to apologise but accepted the coffee anyway. 

‘I’ll have an iced white mocha, please. If you’re sure.’ you told him politely. 

‘An iced white mocha,’ he echoed. ‘Sounds fancy.’

‘What do you normally order?’

‘Usually just a flat white.’ The disgust on your face as you glared up at him had him laughing all over again. ‘What’s that face for?’

‘You don’t go to Starbucks and order a flat white!’ You exclaimed. ‘That’s like going to a strip club and chatting up the security guard.’ 

Bradley guffawed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed this much. And he couldn’t believe that your quiet and composed self was the cause of it. 

‘What should I get instead, then?’ He asked. ‘Since you’re such an expert.’ 

‘Do you like iced drinks?’

‘Of course.’

You thought for a moment. ‘What about caramel?’

‘Yup.’

‘Then you should try an iced caramel macchiato.’

Nobody had been waiting behind you when you came into the store. Now, four people were waiting behind you and Bradley. The server had been trying to get your attention for a while, and someone tsked impatiently. 

‘An iced white mocha for Y/CS here, and I’ll take an iced caramel mach- machi… whatever she just said.’

‘Macchiato,’ you corrected. ‘It’s macchiato.’

Bradley gently nudged you with his elbow. ‘It’s leviOsa, not leviosA.’ 

It was your turn to nearly pee your pants from laughing. 

‘Can I get a name, please?’ The server asked frustratedly. 

‘Beanpole.’ Bradley smirked. 

You were still giggling like a couple of school kids when you got to the Dr Martens store. You already knew which boots you wanted, so you only had to ask the shop assistant to fetch your size. While you waited, you browsed the men’s section with Bradley, pointing out styles you thought might suit him. 

‘Wait!’ You exclaimed. ‘I know exactly which pair would look the best on you.’

Your excitement enamoured him; he probably would have bought anything you handed him to make you happy. It was a stroke of luck that the shoe you gave him was decent, something he probably would have picked for himself: a pair of black Chelsea boots, subtle but sexy with their thick soles and shiny leather. He’d never imagined himself in a pair of docs before, but he could undoubtedly imagine himself in these. When the clerk returned with your shoes, he asked if she wouldn’t mind fetching a size 12 of the ‘edgy-looking Chelsea boots.’ She’d smiled at his description, and so had you. 

‘Let’s just hope I can pull them off as well as you.’

You flushed, batting your eyelashes at him. If it were anyone else, he’d have thought you were being demure on purpose, just to be cute. But it wasn’t anyone else; it was you, and you were cute. 

He wondered if you’d notice that he was wearing them today. Usually, you pointed them out when he did, and he liked it when you singled him out from everyone else and called him Beanpole, leaving everyone else slightly confused. Even Bob wasn’t in on that joke. 

Once he was dressed and ready, he headed out to the Bronco. He had to run to avoid getting drenched, and he once again questioned his decision as he pulled off his driveway. Then he thought about you and realised he didn’t have music playing. For the duration of his journey, he sang along to old Bon Jovi songs, grinning like a fool at the thought of seeing you. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

It was only natural that you and Bob had travelled to the restaurant together since your house was on the way. Bob had an umbrella in the back of his pickup, so he went to your front door instead of texting to let you know he’d arrived. You received him in the most exquisite dress he’d ever seen, made even more jaw-dropping by the fact it was you wearing it. It was a deep navy, with a cowl neck and a ruffled hem. The top material layer was peppered with tiny crystals that gave the illusion of a beautiful starry night. Your hair fell in loose curls down your back, the top half pinned up with little star-shaped clips. As for your makeup… well, that was another story entirely. You’d worn more than usual, but you’d been careful not to make it seem overdone. 

Bob was speechless. Objectively, he’d always known you were a gorgeous woman but seeing you all dolled up like that had him pulling at the collar of his shirt, hoping to loosen it a little. 

‘Bobby. You look handsome.’

Since the restaurant Reuben had picked was fancy, Bob had opted for black suit pants, a white button-down, and a collared leather jacket. Standing next to you, he felt he must look overwhelmingly disappointing. 

‘And you look like a movie star. I should’ve laid a red carpet.’ Bob replied, sounding more confident than he felt. 

You shifted from one foot to the other, beaming like you’d won the lottery. 

‘I thought I’d meet you at the door with this,’ he explained, waving the umbrella. ‘I’m glad I did. Wouldn’t want your pretty hair gettin’ ruined,’ he stammered. ‘Or your dress.’

‘That’s kind of you, thanks. I don’t even know if I own an umbrella.’

‘Do you have a jacket?’

‘Yeah, let me just turn the lights off and grab it. I’ll be back in two seconds.’ 

As you turned around, Bob diverted his gaze from your figure, focusing instead on the colourful flowers you had growing in hanging baskets on your porch. 

You came back wearing a leather jacket similar to his. He held the umbrella over the two of you the whole way down your driveway and opened the passenger side door so you could climb in. He was momentarily worried that you’d struggle to step into his truck with heels on, but then he realised you weren’t wearing heels. You were wearing a pair of white Dr Martens with silky white ribbons as laces—in retrospect, he should have expected that of you by now. 

When you arrived at Juniper and Ivy, the host took you to a large table in the back corner near three floor-to-ceiling windows. It wasn’t dark yet, but the stormy weather made it feel like the middle of the night. The table was set for eight, with impressive settings and flickering candles. Mickey and Natasha had already been seated. You sat opposite her, next to the window, and Bob tucked you in. 

‘Thanks, Bobby,’ you said as he sat beside you. ‘You’ve been a true gentleman tonight.’ 

‘Anytime.’ He mumbled. 

It took a tremendous effort to ignore the sensation of Mickey and Nat’s eyes boring holes into the top of his head as he scanned the menu before him. However, it was harder to ignore the feeling of Mickey kicking him in the shin beneath the table. Bob glared at him over the rim of his glasses, silently asking what the fuck, man? Mickey raised his eyebrows in silent response, nodding his head at you. Thankfully, you were so absorbed in the cocktail menu that you hadn’t noticed. Then, the unthinkable. Mickey nodded at you, then back at Bob, then subtly did the thrusting action. He bit his lip and rolled his eyes to paint a detailed picture of what he was trying to insinuate. Natasha snorted into her glass of water, causing you to look up. 

‘Did I miss something?’ You questioned. 

Mickey’s eyes dropped to his lap as though he’d been chastened. 

He was prevented from having to answer, thanks to Bradley and Javy arriving at the table, instantly distracting you. 

‘Beanpole,’ you smirked. ‘If you keep wearing those boots, you’ll wear ‘em out.’ 

Bradley made straight for you, leaning over to kiss your cheek. You seemed just as surprised as everyone else. 

‘Show me which pair you’re wearing tonight.’ 

You swivelled in your seat and hiked your dress up so he could see your boots. The sight of the smooth skin above them was enough to turn Bob’s stomach to mush. He needed to pull himself together. 

Bradley tapped the tip of your boot with the tip of his to show his appreciation while Javy took the spot next to Bob. Bradley walked around the table next to Mickey, presumably so he could see you better. 

Bob wasn’t an idiot. If he’d showed up and the seat next to you was already taken, he’d have done the same thing. 

‘So,’ Bradley started, an insatiable smirk plastered to his face. ‘We’re waitin’ on Payback and Bagman?’ 

‘Reuben just texted me,’ Mickey responded. ‘They’re five minutes out.’ 

You leaned over slightly—your head almost resting on Bob’s shoulder—and showed him the 

cocktail menu. ‘I wonder if they make good sex on the beaches here.’ 

‘How did I know you were gonna order that?’

‘I can’t help it,’ you groaned. ‘They’re my weakness.’

‘I’ll order you one when the waitress comes over.’

‘We should’ve got a cab,’ you countered. ‘Then you could’ve had one too. I promise you’ll like them. It’s glorified fruit juice.’ 

‘We could go for drinks at that bar by your house sometime,’ Bob offered. ‘It’s walkable. That way, I can try one, and we don’t have to worry about driving.’

Bob genuinely wasn’t expecting you to get as excited as you did. ‘Yes! Why haven’t we thought of this sooner?’ 

Your conversation was (rudely) interrupted by Bradley, setting an ornately decorated cocktail in front of you. Bob had been so wrapped up in your proximity and the sweet scent of your perfume that he hadn’t noticed Bradley leave the table. 

‘Sex on the beach.’ Bradley stated, seemingly quite proud of himself. 

The spell was broken, and suddenly, it was no longer you and Bob. His eyes flicked from you to Bradley, noticing how you mirrored his pleased expression. 

‘Damn, Bradshaw, at least take me out to dinner before you start suggesting that.’ 

Everyone who had been paying attention laughed, even Bob. His was nervous, and when Natasha shot him a pointed look, this nasty sensation only increased. It was a look that said get her before it’s too late. 

You were only kidding, right? You’d have said the same thing if Mickey had bought you the drink instead of Bradley. Right? 

When Reuben and Jake arrived dressed to the nines, the waitress came over and took a drink order and your starters. Bob made a point of ordering you another cocktail. When you winked and asked him if he was trying to get you drunk, he felt as though all the balance had been restored in the world once again. 

‘Y/N,’ Natasha said. ‘You wanna come to the bathroom with me before the first course arrives?’

You shrugged. ‘Sure, why not?’ 

You waited for Nat at the top of the table since she had to walk around. She linked arms with you when she got to you, and the two of you headed off toward the bathroom, completely unaware of all the eyes on you.

Bob was aware. It was all he could do not to get up and walk out when Jake opened his mouth.

‘Who knew Y/CS had a body like that underneath her uniform?’ Jake drawled. 

Javy seemed to share Jake’s thought process. ‘I know, right? She looks like a damn supermodel in that dress.’ 

Bob accidentally locked eyes with Bradley, who was doing a worse job of hiding his anger than he was. He wished you’d both said no to this dinner and gone to the bar near your house instead. He wished he was listening to you sing or playing the drums to your guitar at his house. 

He wished he wasn’t jealous that the other guys had started paying attention to his best friend. 

He wished this meant anything other than what it did because he knew things were about to get a lot more complicated. 

Natasha looked drop-dead gorgeous in her pale blue trousers and matching oversized blazer. Her hair was loose and wavy, and you were obsessed with the smoky eyeshadow she’d done.

‘That outfit is to die for,’ you told her. ‘I love the colour on you.’

‘Thank you,’ she smiled. ‘But let’s talk about that dress. You look stunning.’

You scoffed. ‘This old thing.’

She opened the bathroom door for you, and you stepped inside. Nobody was in there, and before you knew what was happening, Nat dragged you over to the bench on the other side. 

‘Why does a bathroom need a loveseat?’ You wondered aloud. 

She sat you down and took both your hands, leaning forward excitedly. For what, you had no idea. 

‘We need to talk about the dress. And Bob. And Rooster.’ 

‘What do you mean?’

Nat rolled her eyes, squeezing your hands urgently. ‘Don’t be cute. Tell me you didn’t see all those guys turn around to watch you walk away just then!’

‘They did?’ 

‘Yes! Not to mention Bradley acting like a lovesick fool the second he saw you. Or Bob staring at you like you hung the fucking moon in the sky!’ 

This was too much. ‘Okay, system overload.’ 

‘You need to open your eyes.’ 

‘I need you to back up a few steps. How was Bradley acting like a lovesick fool?’

‘He didn’t even say hi to anyone else. The man didn’t even look at us. He went straight for you, and started on that little inside joke you have about your boots. And then he bought you that drink, which, by the way, he’d already gone up to buy before you even said anything out loud. He remembers from that time we all went to that seafood place, and you had the bartender make you a jug for the table.’

This was all well and good, but it didn’t necessarily mean he was lovesick, and you told Nat so. 

‘And as for Bob, that’s another story. That man worships the ground you walk on, and if you can’t see it, you should ask to borrow his glasses.’ 

It was almost comical that Nat was so riled up and self-assured. You could believe that Bob had a little crush. Hell, you had a little crush on him, too. But there was no way someone as confident and vibrant as Bradley could have a thing for you. That was one step too far into crazy town. 

‘They’re gonna wonder where we’ve gotten to.’ You said, hoping she’d just drop this.

‘We need to talk about it at some point. I’m dying here, Y/N.’ Natasha insisted. 

‘Breakfast date tomorrow?’

‘Yes. I swear to God, if I’m wrong about Bradley, I’ll give you a hundred bucks.’

‘Oh, you’re on.’

‘But if I’m right,’ she grinned. ‘You have to do the same.’

Another cocktail was waiting for you when you returned to the table. Bob’s brow was furrowed, and you had to stop yourself from reaching out and smoothing the worry line above his glasses. For the second time that evening, it dawned on you just how handsome he was.

The rest of the meal passed without great event. The food was to die for, and everyone commended Reuben for his spectacular choice of restaurant. The atmosphere was great; friends surrounded you, and Bradley and Bob seemed to be taking turns buying you cocktails. Nat was drinking an old-fashioned, and the boys had taken to buying her one every time they went up for you. You watched as she reached for her phone and typed out a text, not in the least bit surprised when your phone vibrated on the table. 

You were glad Bob was chatting with Javy and Reuben about work because it would have been awkward if he had seen your phone now.

Both of you were giggling like idiots, utterly unaware of everyone else around you. Mickey was reading Nat’s phone over her shoulder, and Bradley watched you like a hawk. If you’d looked up at that moment, you’d have seen him gazing hungrily, eyes flitting from your face to the bare skin your dress didn’t cover. 

The cocktails had gone to your head quicker than usual. You’d lost count of how many you’d had, what with Bradley and Bob’s efforts to keep a drink in front of you at all times. The more you thought about it, the more it did kind of seem like a dick-swinging contest. 

After dessert had been eaten and the cheque split seven ways (Bob insisted on covering your portion), the dagger squad devised a new plan. Those who had been drinking wanted to keep on drinking, and the designated drivers wanted to start. Bob, Bradley, Mickey, Jake and Reuben had all driven, and they wanted to lose their cars and meet up with everyone at The Hard Deck to continue the night. Well, Bob wasn’t given a choice because if he was paying for your meal, you were taking him drinking and paying for everything he wanted. Plus, you didn’t want to go if he wasn’t going to be there. 

So, you and Nat were going with Bob to The Hard Deck—he would leave his car there for the night, get a cab back to your place and spend the night in your guest room. This way, you could drop him back to his car tomorrow morning. Nat insisted she also wanted to stay at your place, like a slumber party. Clearly, the drinks were hitting her, too. You were sure Mickey would have invited himself as well had he been in the car with you. He loved being an honourary girl. Bradley, Mickey, Javy and Jake were taking their cars home and meeting everyone else there.

Bob gave you and Nat the umbrella and ran to start the truck.

‘So,’ Nat giggled, wiggling her eyebrows. ‘Floyd is spending the night at your place.’

‘In the guest room.’

‘Still. He’s gonna be ten feet from you all night. How ever will you control yourself?’ She teased.

Bob’s truck was a monster, and you’d always thought it didn’t match his personality—a black Dodge Ram 1500, basically big enough to live in. Like his house, he kept it incredibly clean, and you were always scared of breathing inside it. 

You opened the back door for Nat, and she clambered in. Just as you were about to close the umbrella and climb in after her, Bob said: ‘Get in the front, Y/CS. I’m not a goddamn Uber driver.’ 

Well, that was it. Nat was literally doubled over in the back seat, and you ended up crouched on the pavement next to the truck in stitches. Maybe it was the alcohol and the good vibes you were tipsy from, or perhaps it was because Bob wasn’t even trying to be funny with that line—he was deadly serious. Either way, you couldn’t stop laughing. 

Bob had to get back out of the truck and help you into the front seat, so he was soaked when he got back behind the wheel. 

‘Oh, Bobby,’ you giggled. ‘Look at you. I’m so sorry.’

Your inhibitions were long gone, so it made perfect sense in your mind to reach out and take Bob’s glasses off and wipe them clean on your dress. Then, you took his face in both hands and gently swiped the water off his cheeks with the pads of your thumbs. He’d closed his eyes, completely lost in the feeling. You’d momentarily forgotten that Natasha was in the backseat until she cleared her throat. Gently, you put Bob’s glasses back on for him and then busied yourself by connecting your phone to Bluetooth. 

‘Okay,’ Nat said. ‘If you two are finished, I need another drink.’ 

You struggled to connect to the audio system, so Bob quickly typed his password in and handed you his phone. Opening up Spotify, you hit shuffle on his liked songs. Rollin’ by Limp Bizkit came on, and you gasped loudly. 

‘This is a fucking great song. One of the best ever.’ 

Bob laughed as you reached out and turned up the volume, bopping your head along as he reversed out of the parking lot. You didn’t expect Nat to know it or like it, but she did, and you sang along obnoxiously the whole drive, first to Rollin’, then to Break Stuff. 

‘You know what they say, Bobby?’

He indulged you: ‘What’s that?’

‘Live, laugh, Limp Bizkit.’

A/N: I can't express how excited I am about this series. If only you knew what I've got hidden up my sleeve! I've been thinking about it for a long time. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future parts!

[acciocriativity]

LITTLE THINGS - A CS SCENARIO

(Pictures are not mine, credits for the original owners)

Non-idol! San x GN! reader

Genre: fluff, a little bit of angst

Tags/ warnings: established relationship; pure comfort, mentions of overthinking; implied insecure reader

WC: 708

N/A: This is my fic for San's birthday! I decided to twisted it a little bit, so it's reader's birthday instead! Let me know what you guys think 💕

Ateez Masterlist

It’s not surprising for a partner to want to do something special for their significant other, right?

When it’s for San, oh boy, don’t you go all out for him? A new game he has been eyeing for weeks, but he is unsure whether to buy because it’s too expensive and he didn’t finish the ones he has already? You got it. A new bag he loved very much, but didn’t get because he thought he didn’t need it at the moment? It’s his! And you know that you don’t have to, but how can you not when everything else seems too small for him?

He would truly be happy with anything, ANY-THING you give him with just a little bit of thoughtfulness. Oh, did you remember when he told you that the thing that he loved very much broke all of sudden and gave him another one? Or you got him that thing he mentioned like six months ago and he himself forgot about it? He’s the happiest man alive. He lives for your attention, care and thoughtfulness and you’re more than happy to do that on a daily basis, just as much as he does for you.

So what’s the problem with him going all out for you? San didn’t get it, but what reason does he have to question you on your preferences? There was none until now.

“Are you sure?”, San asked you as he took your right hand in his much warmer one.

“Yes, babe. It’s okay, I don’t real-”

You didn’t really need anything, nothing was broken or in need of replacement. That was the only case where you let San buy something for you in the past, so he got used to asking you for what you wanted, but for your birthday there was nothing.

“I don’t really have anything in mind for a present and I’m more than happy having you around this year, what else do I need?”, you smiled at him and he did smile back for a moment, until his face fell into a frown.

Sure, his heart was fluttering because of those beautiful words BUT there was something more important than that in his mind.

“Honey”, San said and paused for a moment, while caressing your hand with his thumb.

You felt the words hitting the top of your hair, his lips resting at the top of your head and you couldn’t help yourself, you shivered.

His deep voice saying that word specifically always did something to you and he knew it. You knew his smile was growing on his stupid cute face and you mumbled to yourself on his covered chest.

“Why did you never let me buy you real gifts?”, he whispered as he held you tighter in his arms.

You held your breath.

“It’s always something for the house or for the both of us, but never something for you only, because you want to”.

It was stupid. You knew it already, but those thoughts never leave you, those words from your parents never leave you.

“I like to do it for you”, you whispered back.

“Do you think I wouldn’t like to do it for you? Hm?”, his voice was so soft and low, it was a little secret in that little bubble you created for yourselves.

He always says he does want to give you the whole world, but what if you ask for too much? What if what you want it’s so superficial and unnecessary and he thinks you’re ungrateful? What if he thinks you don’t appreciate him? What i-

“Love, you’re overthinking again”, he said and moved around a little to grab both of your hands.

“I don’t like it when you spend too much money on me”, you said as you tried to keep yourself together.

It was a half truth, you couldn’t lie to him, but even then, you couldn’t look up to him.

He didn’t know the why, but he knew that you needed more time and space to open up to him. So that day, he just held you tighter and promised to himself he would get you something you loved with all of your heart this year and all the years after that too.

[lupiinist]

Emmeline Vance, Emma vanity

Where did they come from like I can’t Rember them being referenced in the book (not that it matters😭😭) but also what are liek the best bc for them (house, bsf, personalit, style) cs I wanna know more abt them

oh, actually, i have no idea where they were first mentioned, i never finished the books (i'm reading them now because i got them as a surprise gift, sort of against my will lol), but if i had to guess, probably some extra content book! (i sorta went to google it and emmeline i think was mentioned in the... sixth? fifth book? something like that!)

as for hc, i also don't see a lot of them in the fandom, but i'm happy to share mine!

for emmeline:

i don't know for sure if she has an official hogwarts house, i don't think so, but i personally like her in ravenclaw, she's the seeker from her quidditch team, which often makes other people surprised, because she doesn't seem the type, but she's very athletic. she likes sports as much as she likes charms (it's her favorite class), and she's got a great memory for spells and for history of magic. i think she would be besties with both pandora (she likes the way pandora thinks, and they study together often), emma (they train together for quidditch, and they even dated for a while), and also marlene (emmeline likes marlene's vibe, they are good friends). emmeline has a more "girly" style, painted nails, little hairpins with interesting shapes (gifts from pandora), and make-up are her go-to. she loves styling her hair in cute ways (space buns, pigtails, braids, anything that comes to mind).

for emma:

she's a slytherin girl boss through and through, quidditch team captain (this one i think it's actually a canon fact), a sports enthusiast, she's very focused, very serious, very professional. her goal is to be a pro player, and she will. she's a year older than the marauders, not fan of many classes, but very good in potions and defense against the dark arts, with dada being her favorite class, but minerva being her favorite teacher. she's tough, smart and knows how to pick and win a fight. i like to think that emma's best friend was emmeline, but she had a special bond with regulus, she had him under her wing in quidditch, and he sees her as the greates player he ever saw, they have a cute mentor/student relationship, reggie respects her a lot! (she played as a chaser, btw!). emma, contrary to what people think by her last name, wasn't really vain, at least not with her appearance, she was always messy, with her hair tied, because it was easier for her to fly any time like that, and she always had a heavy coat even when was hotter, because she spent most of her time flying around. her favorite color is purple, and she likes shiny things. i hc her as a black person, very curly hair, and although being in slytherin in a time where most students in the house were purbloods, she's either half-blood or muggleborn

i absolutely love making hcs, thank you so much for asking! i've been working a bit more on emmeline and emma recently for a fic i'm writing, so it's always good to put those little details down in words! i hope you liked it c;

[imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese]

Undercover Dawning

The Drifter contracts two of his Gambit regulars, Yrsa-06 and Marceline, to do a clandestine job for him by accompanying two Hunters: Teeth and Claws.

This is a @creationstationdiscord gift exchange fic for archerjlady.

Link to Ao3 if you prefer to read it there

"Yrsa-06 and Marceline, right?" The slightly larger Hunter spoke with a very low, almost electronically-tinged voice as he stepped out in front of his partner. He walked with an arrogant swagger over to the private table in the back of the bar where they'd agreed to meet. He wore a full set of Calamity Rig gear in base colours with no shader.

Marceline stepped forward. She towered over Yrsa and the two Hunters. "Yeah, and you are?"

"I'm Teeth." The Hunter pointed at himself. "And this is Claws." He jerked his thumb backwards to the other Hunter behind him, who nodded. That one had a Superblack shader on all her gear.

Both kept their faceplates on.

Marceline and Yrsa had removed their helmets before entering the back room. Neither Hunter moved to remove their headgear.

"No faces. Kinda sketch," Marceline said in a private channel to Yrsa while they continued toward the other two.

"Hunters, though." Yrsa-06 replied on the same private channel. "Some Hunters are just like that. And the money is good."

"The money is from Drifter," the Titan replied, still on the private channel. "I don't know of anyone sketchier."

"Spider." Yrsa said, sliding into the booth.

"Ok you have a point. Spider makes Drifter look upstanding." Marceline answered.

"Drifter may be sketchy but his money is good." Yrsa said.

"Except when he bans us from Gambit for being too good at his game." Marceline slid in along the seat of the booth next to Yrsa.

"He apologized," Yrsa pointed out. "And he apologized financially. I'm still kinda pissed, but he did pay us off so... I guess I'm good with it."

"I guess, yeah. Ok fine, are we doing this?" Marceline asked, drumming her fingers on the table.

"I'm good with it even if they are ridiculously shifty fuckers." Yrsa began to fiddle with one of the Dawning ornaments decorating the wall.

"Heh. Shifty fuckers. Maybe they're good in bed."

They both watched as first Teeth and then Claws slid into the booth across the table from them, still keeping their helmets on.

"I like to see the face of who I'm fucking," the Warlock quipped back.

"I guess... they are kinda hot though."

Yrsa-06 sighed. "You think most people are hot, Marceline, but I do like how he walks."

"Yeah, it's the way he moves his hips. You like hips."

"I prefer yours."

"I know." The Titan smirked briefly at her partner and then switched off the private comms. "Ok so Drifter said we're sneaking onto the Glykon Volatis?"

"That's what he told us, yeah," Teeth said. "He also said not to ask too many questions. So we didn't."

He lifted his arm and placed it back around Claws' shoulders. Claws tensed for a moment and then leaned back against him.

"He told us that too," Yrsa-06 said, across the table from Teeth. "Always makes me nervous."

"Nah, sometimes it's better not to know," Teeth said. "Too much politics goin' on in this town."

"Ok well, I can agree with you on that," Marceline answered looking at Claws across from her. Claws seemed to be staring at a point behind and to the left of her. Marceline glanced back to confirm there was nothing there other than some festive Dawning ornaments lighting up the room in a snowflake pattern.

"Your ghosts got the schematics all good?" Teeth asked. "Any questions before we go?"

"Yeah," Marceline said. "Can Claws even talk?"

"Yes. Why?" Claws' voice contained a twinge of annoyance and another slight digital warble. Despite the audio adjustments, or perhaps because of them, her voice sounded feminine and soft. She still did not turn her helmet to look at either of the people sitting across from her.

"Just curious. You hadn't said anything yet." Marceline answered, and then switched over to private comms.

"Either they both have glitchy audio in their helmets in the exact same way or they're both using voice modulators," she said to Yrsa.

"Someone doesn't want to be seen or heard. Then again, who wants to be known to work for the Drifter?" Yrsa replied.

"Good point, but then, why didn't we disguise ourselves?" Marceline asked.

"We don't give a fuck?" Yrsa answered, looking up at her with a grin.

"That's not what you said last night."

Yrsa coughed, flustered. Marceline switched off the private channel.

"Fireteams are normally three but we're doing four," the tall Titan said. "Any idea why?"

"This isn't a regular mission." Teeth explained, leaning forward. At least his mask looked like he was facing the people he was talking to. "Vanguard has the Glykon designated as a no-go zone. Claws has to gather some Egregore samples and that thing is crawling with Scorn. The three of us are here to make sure they don't bother her while she's pickin' fungus flowers."

"What are your samples for?" Yrsa-06 asked.

Claws stiffened again and turned her head to look at Teeth.

"She can't tell ya that." Teeth explained.

"Right. Drifter said no questions." Marceline said.

"That he did." Teeth agreed.

"And yet, here you are, asking us if we have questions." Yrsa-06 countered.

"Yeah well, I ain't Drifter," Teeth said, tugging Claws closer to him. She sighed in response but snuggled closer to him.

"But," Teeth continued, "...there is a bunch of stuff we can't answer. To be honest, we don't know a lot about it ourselves. Limited intel, just like you."

"So we get in, get the samples and get out, right?" Yrsa asked.

"That's the plan." Teeth said.

"Awful lot of glimmer for some fungus." Marceline commented.

Teeth shrugged. "Drifter pays well for people willin' to keep their mouths shut."

"He does." Yrsa agreed.

"We good?" Marceline asked Yrsa on their private channel.

"Yeah."

"We're good to go," Marceline told Teeth. "Let's do this."

...

"Lots of Egregore." Marceline muttered into the open comms through her helmet as she walked into the room. Fronds of Egregore sprouted from dead Cabal all around them.

"Yup," Teeth said. "Watch out for Screebs." He walked over to a blast door that was twitching erratically, unable to fully open or close, and began examining it.

Claws crouched down next to a mass of Fungal growth and began cutting at it with a knife.

"So..." Yrsa crouched down next to her, the Maroon Moon shader on her Warlock robes looked purple in the blue-green light of the Egregore. "...you like Gambit huh?"

"What?" Claws asked, clearly annoyed.

"You play a lot of Gambit."

"Whatever has given you that impression?"

Yrsa-6 pointed to Claws, dragging her finger through the air from her head to her toes. "Your... outfit?"

Claws' helmeted head tipped down to regard the Poison Promise sleeves, vest and strides she was wearing from inside her Poison Promise mask as though she was seeing them, and the Gambit snakes embossed on them, for the first time. "Oh."

"Drifter doesn't just give that away. That's nice gear. You have to play enough to have gotten all that. We play a lot too. Weird we haven't seen you."

"Yes I... I suppose I do like Gambit." Claws returned to harvesting Egregore.

"So what's your favourite Gambit map?"

"I... um..." Claws stammered.

Teeth walked over and said, "Europa."

"Yes," Claws said, sounding a bit relieved. "Europa."

"She likes the snow," Teeth added.

"I like the snow," Claws affirmed.

"Riiiiiight." Yrsa said, looking back and forth between the two of them.

"Tsch," Claws made an irritated sound, holding up a long frond of Egregore she had lopped off at the base toward Teeth.

Teeth took it from her and twisted it sideways. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Claws stood up and took one end of the stem, slipping her knife along it to split it in half.

"It is hollow. Void of all mycelial fluids. Like a straw."

"Too old?" Teeth asked.

"Very much so, yes." Claws snapped the frond in two and tossed it to the side.

"So you need fresher stuff." Teeth concluded.

"There will probably be more farther in," Yrsa said, standing up as well.

"The farther in we go, the greater the risk." Claws snapped.

Teeth reached out a hand to tug gently at Claws' elbow. "It's all right," his modulated voice still managed to sound gentle. "We got backup. These two are great. We'll be fine. You need goop, we get you your goop."

The black-clad hunter turned and gripped Teeth's arm tightly. "Are you certain?"

"Yeah," Teeth looked over to Yrsa. "You good goin' in deeper?"

Yrsa held up her Bad Juju pulse rifle and nodded. "Hell yeah!"

All three of them started as a grating above them was kicked out of an air vent and landed nearby. Marceline stuck her head out of the tunnel. "Found a way through!" she announced.

...

"Do you invade a lot?" Yrsa asked from behind Claws as they crawled through the vents.

"What?" Claws asked, looking back from Marceline in front of her to Yrsa behind her.

"In Gambit," Yrsa clarified as Teeth crawled behind her, bringing up the rear. "Do you invade a lot?"

"Um... No," Claws said. "I prefer to... bank motes."

"Me too," Yrsa said. "I love it when Drifter says he's proud of me. Gets me every time. That voice."

"Heh," Teeth, behind Yrsa, gave a short laugh.

"Yes he... he does have a nice voice," Claws said as she crawled. "It's... very pleasant."

"So hot," Marceline said from the front.

Teeth coughed. It almost sounded like he was trying not to laugh.

"It... it is hot, yes..." Claws stammered.

"We should play Gambit some time, us four. We'd be a killer team." Marceline said as she punched a grating and jumped down into a hallway. The other three followed.

"Uh... Claws has a lot of obligations right now..." Teeth was the last to climb out. "Vanguard stuff... we uh... haven't been playin' Gambit much."

"Had to have been playing recently," Marceline said. "Claws is wearing the newest gear."

"We did a lot when it first came out," Teeth explained. "Not so much now, probably won't be in there any time soon to be honest."

"Awww, no one ever wants to play Gambit," Yrsa sighed and pulled out her Embraced Identity sniper rifle, using the scope to magnify her view as she scanned the area on the other side of across a large gap with several gears grinding together at the bottom.

"Lotsa people playin' Gambit, sweetheart," Teeth said. "I see 'em every day."

"How do you see them if you don't play?" Marceline asked.

"Uh..."

"When he walks through the bazaar for work." Claws said quietly as she crouched down next to several glowing pustules, examining them.

"Yeah, that." Teeth agreed.

"Oh?" Marceline readied her Retold Tale shotgun and began slowly walking toward a large mass of Egregore on the other side of them. "Where do you work?"

She jumped back and fired as two Screebs scuttled toward her. The shotgun blast vaporized them both.

Teeth stepped out between Claws and where the Screebs had appeared, his Gnawing Hunger auto rifle ready.

Two more Screebs appeared. Marceline and Teeth fired at the same time. The Screebs exploded harmlessly away from everyone, leaving glowing splotches of dark ether to glow a sickly blue on the walls and ground.

Marceline and Teeth nodded to each other and Teeth followed behind the Titan as she began to search for more Screebs. Yrsa-06 remained near Claws until the other two returned.

"These spores are more recent, but they have no fruiting bodies. We will need to coat ourselves in them and then proceed through on the other side." Claws pointed to where a glittering Egregore barrier was stretched across several lumps of fungus in a doorway on the other side of the churning pit.

"Sparkle up, people," Teeth said, looking down at the gears below that would grind up anything, or anyone, that might come in contact with them. "And uh... don't fall into the death hole."

...

All of them made it across with no issue. Yrsa-06 and Marceline took out several more Screebs and then Claws examined another long frond of Egregore. She gave a frustrated sigh when she slit open the long stem.

"Still too old?" Teeth asked.

"Yes, although this one does seem less ancient than the others we found earlier."

"That's good! That means we're makin' progress. Just gotta go a bit farther then. Let's keep movin'." He shot out a blinking fuse in one of the pipes. A hatch opened in the floor at his feet.

"So where do you work?" Marceline asked again as she and Teeth dropped down into a storage room.

Claws slipped down, landing lightly on her feet next to her partner.

"Look," Teeth stopped and leaned against the wall. "Gonna be straight up with you two here: We can't talk about our work. It's very hush-hush."

"Oh I know what you two do now," Yrsa said as she clambered down to join them.

"You do?" Claws asked, nervously.

"Yeah I can see right through you. Both keeping your masks on, got cute names that totally aren't your real ones, both probably using voice modulators, wearing Gambit gear like that... knowing about who plays Gambit without playing Gambit... working near the bazaar... Yeah, it's pretty clear now."

Teeth and Claws looked at each other and then looked back at Yrsa and Marceline.

"You're Hidden agents," Yrsa continued. "You work for Ikora, don't you?"

Claws visibly relaxed.

"Well now," Teeth said, folding his arms across his chest, "...if that were true, and I ain't sayin' it is, we couldn't tell ya that, now could we?"

"Hush!" Claws hissed. "Do you hear that, as I do?"

Everyone fell silent. A low rumbling as though something heavy was being dragged seemed to move across the ceiling.

Teeth tapped Marceline on her Synthoceps gauntlets and pointed to the door. Marceline nodded and quietly turned the handle, pushing it open and looking through. She waved the others to follow her and they moved quickly and quietly, closing the door behind them.

...

They'd shuffled through multiple corridors and several rooms putting space between them and whatever had made the heavy dragging sounds. Teeth pulled a wall panel off near one of the blast doors and hotwired it, sealing it behind them. They breathed a little easier after that.

Walking along another room Claws stopped in front of a large glass panel separating the area they were in from what looked to have once been a medical bay.

"Oh hey," Teeth whispered at her shoulder, looking through the glass. "That looks pretty fresh."

"Yes," Claws said.

"I bet that'll give ya what you need," he said.

"I believe so. But we will need to enter that room."

Marceline continued on ahead and turned a corner. "Door here," she said quietly.

The other three followed. In front of the door was a security panel. It, like so much else around them, was overgrown with Egregore.

Claws crouched next to the panel and then looked back to Teeth. "Can you modify the wiring to enable our access?" she asked him.

"Just get your ghost to scan it." Yrsa-06 told her.

Claws froze and sucked in a quick breath.

"We uh... we don't like to wave our ghosts around," Teeth explained, kneeling next to Claws and placing a hand on her arm gently. "We've had some bad experiences with that... due to our um... line of work..."

"Right," Marceline said, pulling out her own ghost, Kari, and getting her to scan the panel. "Don't wanna end up like Zavala or Osiris."

"Or Eris," Yrsa added.

Claws' head whipped around to look at Yrsa.

"Poor Eris." Marceline continued. "I wish we could get her a new ghost."

"Eris wouldn't want a new ghost," Claws snapped. "She loved the one she had."

"So... you know Eris well?" Marceline asked her.

"Of course she knows Eris," Yrsa said. "They're Hidden agents."

"Yes... I mean..." Claws stammered.

"Ha!" Yrsa pointed. "Caught you!"

Claws and Teeth looked at each other. He squeezed her hand.

"Yes... you... caught me..." Claws said.

"You don't get out much do you?" Yrsa asked.

"I... No," Claws acquiesced, squeezing Teeth's hand back. "No, I do not..."

"You should come hang out with us more..." Yrsa said. "We like you two..."

Claws tilted her head to the side. "You do?"

"Yes," Marceline said. The door opened with a soft beep and Kari returned to her.

"I can message ya on VanNet if ya like," Teeth said as he stood. "We can work somethin' out." He reached out to help Claws stand up.

"VanNet?" Marceline asked as she stepped through the door. "Why not just have your ghosts call ours?"

Claws stiffened. Teeth squeezed her hand again.

"That don't work for us," Teeth said. "Sorry."

"That's ok, VanNet is fine." Yrsa told them. "We can do that."

Once inside, Claws pulled out her knife once more and sliced off the base of a long frond of Egregore. It oozed blue-green fluid that had a purple sheen.

"That's it, ain't it?" Teeth asked. "That's what ya need, right?"

"Yes," Claws said, relief flooding her voice. She began to harvest the long tendrils waving around them, slicing them off at their bases and stacking them like firewood on an empty medical stretcher beside her.

There was a roar outside the room. The other three looked through the large glass panel at the two Scorn Abominations stumbling toward them.

Teeth walked quickly over to the door and pushed the close button. It slid shut with a hiss. Yrsa's ghost, Norbert, floated up next to him and began to interface with the panel to seal the door.

"Can they see us?" Yrsa asked.

One of the Abominations walked up and punched glass between them. The second took several steps back and charged, using its overly muscled and rivet-studded shoulder like a battering ram. The impact made a loud 'thunk' and the glass made a soft 'tink' as cracks spiderwebbed out from the point of impact, making a fractal pattern about the size of a human hand.

"Pretty sure they can," Teeth said. "How's your harvest goin' partner?" he asked Claws.

"I need more time!" she said, her voice modulator warbling slightly.

The Abominations both ran in to impact the glass again with two more loud shuddering 'thunks' and two more sets of radiating cracks.

"Is there another way out of here?" Marceline asked, readying her Tractor Cannon.

Teeth and Yrsa looked around.

"Not unless you're the size of a ghost," Teeth said, reaching back to pull up his 21% Delirium machine gun. "Only way out is through."

Void energy began to crackle along Yrsa's body. Her fingertips began to glow purple.

"There's more comin' behind 'em." Teeth said. "Keep 'em away from Claws. That's why you're the muscle, heroes."

"And what does that make you?" Marceline asked over her shoulder.

"I'm the clean up crew behind ya," he said, wryly. "Guess that makes me the janitor."

More impacts shook and crunched against the glass. The wall was so filled with cracks now that they could no longer see through.

Yrsa-06 dropped a rift at her feet near Claws. Teeth stepped into it beside them both.

The glass gave way.

Yrsa's Nova Bomb hit the first Abomination that came through in the face, vaporizing it.

The second Abomination stumbled several steps forward before it fell to its knees as its body began to come apart at the atomic level from the forces emanating from the small black hole.

Marceline and Teeth had already begun firing.

Several Wraiths came clambering in, only to be cut down by Teeth's bullets or obliterated by blasts from Marceline's Tractor Cannon.

"Here come the Screebs!" Teeth called out.

Yrsa-06 tossed a Void Scatter grenade. The four-limbed scuttling mass of dozens of Screebs popped like popcorn, the first few setting off a chain reaction which erupted all over the remaining Scorn in bursts of Dark Ether.

Marceline ran up as a Scorn Chieftain ran in. Her first punch staggered it. Her second took off its head.

Farther back, another Chieftain tossed a Solar Totem into the room. Teeth jumped on top of Claws, pulling her to the side and keeping himself between her and the flames. He grunted as his cloak caught fire and, without looking, pointed his auto rifle one-handed at the Totem behind him, holding down the trigger.

Yrsa lifted her Crux Termination rocket launcher onto her shoulder, took aim, and fired through the shattered glass barrier. The second Scorn Chieftain at the back of the other room exploded in a burst of Arc energy as the projectile hit him squarely in the face.

The Solar Totem dissipated. Marceline punched two more Raiders and a Ravager to death. Green spikes sprouted from her fists. She became a flurry of bladed Strand, ripping through everything around her like a blender. By the time she was done there were no more Scorn around her. A few more bursts of gunfire rang out from Teeth and Yrsa clearing out the last of the stragglers and then everything was quiet.

"Everyone ok?" Teeth asked, glass crunching under his feet.

"I am fine." Claws said, returning to her Egregore harvest.

"Me too," Yrsa answered, holding Bad Juju ready while scanning their surroundings.

"I'm good," Marceline replied, stepping back into the room. The bright green of the Gambit Jadestone shader on her armour was now accented with splashes of Dark Ether blue.

Teeth patted down his cape, putting out the flames.

"How about you?" Yrsa asked him.

"Extra tasty crispy," he answered, smacking another bit of flame on the left boot of his strides. His armour was singed all over.

"Too bad about your cape," Marceline commented.

"I got lots more where that came from," Teeth said.

"Never met a Hunter who wasn't precious about his cape," Yrsa said.

"Nah, the scorch marks give it character!" Teeth replied cheerily.

"I have all I require." Claws pronounced. "Let us make our egress from this location as expediently as possible."

"What?" Teeth looked at her with his arms held out to his sides in an incredulous gesture. "Ya shouldn't cuss like that in front of our new friends, Claws. You'll put 'em off!"

"Ugh!" was her only reply. No one needed to see her face to know that under her mask she was rolling her eyes.

"The hell is anyone supposed to know what egress means?" he asked her. "It sounds dirty."

"Have you considered broadening your vocabulary?" Claws said, sharply.

"Have you considered using words people understand?" he retorted.

Yrsa-06 burst out laughing.

"Pretty sure she was just saying it's time to go," Marceline added.

"Yes," Claws said, her arms filled with Egregore fronds.

"Let's skedaddle then," Teeth said. "If I'm remembering correctly, there's a docking bay not too far from here. Open to space on one side. We should be able to get a transmat out from there without having to track back where we came from and then we can get ourselves the hell off this infested wreck."

...

Two days later both Marceline and Yrsa received an alert regarding a package addressed to the two of them at the Post Office in the Tower.

Kadi 55-30 dutifully retrieved the box when they showed up and handed it to Marceline. It was plain black and wrapped with a silver bow. No return address was given.

A small tag was attached under the bow.

Yrsa-06 and Marceline, Don't ask how we got this, but happy Dawning! Teeth & Claws

Marceline passed the box to Yrsa and shrugged. They began walking away as the Exo opened it up.

"What is it?" the Titan asked as they made their way up the steps to the Ironwood tree.

"Looks like... Two exotic ciphers and a box of cookies. Not bad since Drifter already paid us."

"What kind of cookies?"

"Assorted, different kinds," Yrsa said. "Weird though. Half of them are perfectly done and the other half are burnt to shit." She handed Marceline an unburnt dark chocolate mote.

"Huh," Marceline said, her mouth full of chocolate. "I wonder what that's supposed to mean."

"No idea," Yrsa said, taking a bite out of a perfectly cooked bright dusted snowball. "Exotic ciphers though."

"I'll exotic your cipher," Marceline growled in Yrsa's ear. "Lets get home."

"Why?"

"Because," Marceline pulled Yrsa closer, "...you probably want to be inside when I start tearing off your clothes."