#granny's diner

[shelbgrey]

-Ruby "red" Lucas aesthetic

[aesthetic--mood]

Ruby Lucas Aesthetic

[martianbugsbunny]

Secret Admirers Are For The Subtle (A FrankenWolf Fic)

*sitting on the wall like Spider-Man* so basically this idea spawned bc one, I'm obsessed with the idea that Victor draws a lot, even though he only sketched in like one episode lol, and two, I was having a convo with @stardreamer28 about how Victor is the least subtle person in the universe, so why not combine the two into one fic? The gist is that he sent Ruby flowers anonymously so he could drop by the diner and "notice" them and stick around to sketch them, but Ruby is totally onto him and knows he's the one who sent the flowers. Also, the stuff Victor eats/drinks is absolutely just what I was craving when I wrote the fic lol, there's no significance in it. Read on and enjoy!

Victor closed the door to the diner behind him and hung his jacket on the coat rack next to it. He had found in it Gold’s shop, and although it had belonged to him in his old land, had paid the promise of extra attentive medical care in the future, should Gold need it. It was his favorite jacket, or he wouldn’t have bothered: dark brown, made of a thick material for lab work (or cold), and the buttons were all round gold ones.

He noticed a large bouquet of flowers sitting on the counter, the vase conveniently close to his usual stool. He went over and sat down, pulling his sketchbook and a pencil out of his crossbody bag.

“New flowers, huh?” he said conversationally. Ruby, handing another customer a plate of fries, turned towards him and smiled.

“Yeah. Funny thing, but they didn’t come with a note or anything,” she said. “And the delivery girl only knew that they were for me, not who sent them. But they’re beautiful,” Ruby added, smiling wider and brushing her fingertips across the yellow center of a daisy.

“I guess you have a secret admirer,” Victor said, trying to keep himself from turning pink. She liked the flowers.

Ruby laughed, leaning in to sniff an orange flower with lots of small petals that Victor didn’t know the name of. “There’s a first time for everything,” she said. “What do you want to eat?”

He didn’t need a menu; he had been to Granny’s more times than he could count during the Dark Curse, and several times afterwards, too. “Grilled chicken with a side of—”

“Mashed potatoes and gravy?” Apparently Ruby didn’t need him to even finish his order anymore. “And to drink?”

While Victor liked the same foods at Granny’s that Whale had, he didn’t like iced tea, which Whale had ordered with most of his meals. Victor had tried several other beverages since the curse broke, and hadn’t been too enthused with any of them.

“Surprise me,” he said. Ruby grinned, and he was definitely blushing this time. Flustered, he opened his sketchbook and began to outline the prominent yellow rose in the floral arrangement. Those were the easiest.

As the afternoon passed, Victor painstakingly absorbed himself in his drawing. After bringing back Regina’s fiancé with no more success than he’d had with Gerhardt, Victor wanted to do something truly creative, that couldn’t hurt anybody; only sit there on the page and be beautiful. And he’d found himself wanting to be near Ruby since…well, forever, really—even during the curse, there was a certain spark between them—but especially since she had stepped up as Prince Charming’s right hand. She was feisty and strong, and she cared about the town, and Victor dared to hope maybe one day she would care for him.

He downed four glasses of Ruby’s mystery beverage (after all, he had to do something to justify taking up a seat in the diner) before remembering to ask what it was. He had just finished filling in the petals of a small, sort of scrawny-looking daffodil, one of the last flowers he had to color in.

“Hey, Ruby, what is this?” he asked, gesturing towards his empty glass. She had been sitting next to him for a while, since the dinner rush was still a couple of hours away. While he sketched, she read a book of fairytales from the Storybrooke Library—“To see what they got wrong,” as she had explained.

She looked up from the story about Sleeping Beauty. “Canada Dry.”

Victor stared at her. Not just because the light coming through the windows was reflecting off her eyes like gems, but because he was somewhat surprised. “You’re kidding me. This is ginger ale? I should’ve tried this twenty-eight years sooner.” Whale had never been much of a soda drinker; he was too enthused with his iced tea, and ginger ale’s reputation as a beverage of choice for the elderly had made it sound dull. “I should have you pick all my drinks,” he teased.

Ruby laughed. “If it means you come to the diner for your meals, then alright. It’s a deal.” She had been sitting with a stool between them—now, she moved over onto the one directly next to Victor’s. “Can I see what you’ve been so busy with?”

He wasn’t about to show her the small portraits of her that he had been working on; it might come off as creepy, he wasn’t sure. (But she did have the perfect profile for sketching, and he loved capturing her smile when she wasn’t looking.)

The flowers, however, had turned out rather nicely, and there was nothing creepy about those…unless maybe it was that he had sent them as an excuse to spend time with her and she had no idea—but he had been a lot less bold since the Curse ended, and he was nervous about actually asking her out.

“You’re very talented, Victor,” Ruby said softly. The way her eyes lit up looking at the sketches made something in Victor’s core absolutely melt. His fingers itched to pick up the pencil again and draw that ephemeral expression before it faded away.

“Thank you,” he said, impressed with himself for keeping his voice from shaking. She was right there, after all, leaning over his shoulder, the fabric scent of her flannel shirt all he could smell.

Ruby smiled again, brushing her dark hair behind one ear, and hopped off the stool. She went back around the counter as a couple of customers entered the diner, lightly tracing the petals of that bright yellow rose on her way.

Victor checked his watch and began hastily packing away his pencils and his pastel crayons. His shift at the hospital started in twenty minutes.

As his hand was on the doorknob, Ruby called after him. “Hey, Victor?”

He turned around, his heart pounding. “Next time you send flowers, add a note,” she said. Victor couldn't get the grin off his face all the way back to the hospital.

[arc-angel-o]

Bro where's that post about Granny's Diner's wild menu???

[horsetailcurlers2]

i know that the show starts around 2010 so idk how to explain this but emma swan and regina mills just LOOK like they could be in a cheesy 90s romcom. like i need somebody to write a nancy meyers/nora ephron inspired swan queen AU asap. i can picture the background music perfectly. emma in old school straight leg levi’s with a 90s pantene commercial bounce to her princess curls!! regina in rum raisin lipstick and a wool turtleneck!! a picturesque small coastal town!!!!!!!! come ON

[fieriframes]

I wish I was normal but I need to see the clip from e1S1 where Guy Fieri talks about Granny Weatherwax. Please I need to know if its real.

[Only Granny Weatherwax really knew Granny Weatherwax.]

[queen-mabs-revenge]

i am not immune to fandom silliness

[kmomof4]

😆❤️

THE MENU OF GRANNY’S DINER

This is Granny’s. She makes a mean lasagna and runs an inn.

[ofgrimhilde]

@covertegotism asked "i have no desire to get involved." Prompt from 'I don't want to get involved.'

Evie sighed, closing her eyes gently before turning on her heels to face Zekel. "Since when do you ever want to get involved, Jones? Your penchant for acting like you don't care must be hereditary. Just TRY for one minute to act like you care for someone else other than yourself, Hook. I know it's hard." She emphasized the last four words she spoke by scrunching her nose at the male. "But I believe in you. Even if you don't believe in yourself." She was still showing she had some goodness left in her. Even If it was just a little.

"Or would you prefer your hand actually be turned into a hook?" Ah. There it was. Her wicked grin and her cunning sarcasm.

[holylulusworld]

BFG (1)

Summary: He’s new to town and just your type…

Pairing: Reacher x Plussized!Reader

Warnings: size kink, flirty reader, objectification of Reacher, language

BFG masterlist

“Fuck me, that guy could break me into two halves,” you sigh dreamily as the new face in town steps into the diner. “What a man.”

You lick your lips. He’s tall, and you mean tall when you say it. If anyone wants you to guess, you’d say he’s at least 6’5.

“Y/N, what was the price of the peach pie again?” The new waitress asks. She’s pretty and friendly but her memory is not the best.

Maybe she just smokes too much weed. You don’t blame her. This sleepy little town does this to you. If you don’t take drugs or drink, you spend the time dreaming of a different life.

You sigh again, this time out of frustration because you must take your eye off the thick hottie and turn your attention toward Sally Ann, the new waitress.

“It’s…” You tell her the price while dipping your head to glance at the newbie's ass when he passes the counter by. “Damn him, he’s thick too. What do you weigh, baby? Two hundred and fifty pounds?”

“Miss,” Sally Ann almost whimpers when this mountain of a man asks her about the peach pie. She looks a little lost, and you gladly jump in to turn his attention toward you.

“You can come over here,” you tap the counter. “This spot looks like you’ll fit in.” You grin as he chuckles at your bad joke about his size. “The seat is extra-large. One of our regulars needed a little extra space and cushion.”

“I guess he was tall too,” He asks while plopping down on the larger seat. The seat creaks under his weight and you hope he didn’t break it. Even though, you wouldn’t mind if he tries to break you.

“In size, not height,” you shrug. “That’s what I heard. This was before my time, and he died some years ago. This means, the seat is all yours now, sweetie.”

“Sweetie,” his laughter is deep and rich as he tries to not blush at your flirty banter. “No one ever called me sweet.”

“What a shame,” you pat his hand. Fuck. It looks like his hand is as big as one of your plates. “So, tell me,” you lean closer to whisper, “are you a BFG or are you a bad guy.”

“BFG?” He cocks his head. “Oh…” He chuckles again. “I’m friendly, don’t worry. I only get mad if you want to…”

“Fuck with you?” You cockily reply and mirror his smirk. “Hmm…I don’t think you could handle me, sweetie. I’m too much of a woman for most of the guys in town.”

His eyes scan your body at your words. He hums and drops his eyes to your ass. “I can handle any situation.” His face remains stoic, but his eyes give his dirty thoughts away. “Can I have a slice of the peach pie, ma’am?”

“Only if you never call me ma’am again,” you point a manicured finger at the giant. “People called my granny ma’am.”

“You don’t look like a granny to me,” he waves his huge hand to brush your concern off. “More like you are stranded in a place you don’t belong.” Ah, he tries to analyze you while checking your ass and tits out. “You’re not here for long.”

“Just like you,” you wink at him. “I’ll get you your pie now, and you better eat it up. It’s the best in town.”

“I bet he can break a bone only by grabbing you too hard,” Sally Ann watches the newbie eat his pie. “I wouldn’t want him to touch me. He looks like a brute.”

“No, sweetie,” you let your eyes wander from his broad shoulders, down to his wide back and further to his perfect ass, “he’s the kind of guy knowing how to handle a woman. I don’t think he underestimates his strength. The only problem is, he’s too big for my bed.”

“What?” Sally Ann squeaks. “Don’t tell me you want to take him home.”

“I’d take him anywhere he wants to go,” you nonchalantly admit. “It’s been ages since a real man tried to put his hands on me. This man over there has hands as big as our plates. He knows how to touch a woman.”

You bite your lower lip when he dips his head to look at you. He smirks and lifts the now empty plate. “Can I have another one?”

God, how you love a man who can eat. “Sure, sweetie,” you make your way toward him, swaying your hips on purpose. He glances at Sally Ann who looks a little scared. “How do you like your pie? Do you want some whipped cream too?”

He shrugs. “I’m not picky.”

“You can be picky,” you wink at him. “I won’t let you leave this town hungry and unsatisfied.”

His eyes darken at your words. “What can you recommend? What’s your specialty?”

“I asked you first,” you hold out your hand. “I’m Y/N, what’s your name?”

“Reacher,” he gruffly replies, but his hand takes yours. It’s huge in contrast to your hand, but warm and surprisingly gentle. “I’m here for…”

“You don’t have to tell me.” You hastily say. “I know you are not the kind of man answering questions. If you promise me to not cause trouble at the diner, you are always welcome here.”

“I can’t promise to not cause trouble but,” he squeezes your hand, “I promise that I’ll try not to cause trouble at your diner.”

“You know that this is my diner? How?”

“Sally Ann over there and the other waitresses always look at you for confirmation. The guests show more respect to you, and you don’t keep the tips. You put the money into the tip jar the waitresses share at the end of their shift.”

“You’re quite observant, Reacher.”

“I assume you took over the diner from your,” he searches your face. “Grandmother not so long ago. You still try to figure things out, but your pie tastes great.”

“She died six months ago. Granny left me her house, and the diner,” you sigh, and drop your gaze. “I left my well-paid job, and life behind. She was always good to me, and I didn’t bring it over me to sell the diner.”

“What was your job?” You’ve got the feeling the conversation turned out to be an interrogation.

“Aw, sweetie,” you wink at him, “if you want to know more about me, buy me dinner first.”

He watches you walk away, wondering if you have anything to do with the crime he investigates. Reacher shakes his head. No. You don’t look like a killer. And he doesn’t think for one second that you can break a guy’s neck.

“Hi, what can I do for you?” Sally Ann asks. She’s still intimidated by Reacher’s size or rather his cheer presence at the diner.

“Where’s Y/N?” He cocks his head to look for you.

“I don’t know. She looked pissed and went to the back entrance.”

“I-“ he gets his wallet out to throw money onto the counter. Reacher follows you out of the back entrace, searching for you.

“Whoa, watch your step,” you push your hands against his firm chest to stop him from running the poor dog over. “Hey, that’s his spot. You are not allowed to leave through this entrance.”

“I’m sorry,” he sighs. He's relieved that you are not on the run, because you are the killer. “I was looking for you. I didn’t want to piss you off asking about your job.”

“Huh? I didn’t leave because you asked me about my job,” you point out. “I saw that bastard from across the street chase this poor guy away. He was only looking for food.”

“Someone tried to hurt the dog?” He squares his jaw. “Who? What did they do?”

You crouch down to add water to the feeding bowl. “The owner of the fancy new restaurant across the street. He always shoos away the kids and pets. I don’t like that man.”

“Restaurant across the street. Got it,” he looks like he makes a mental note. “Is that little boy your dog?”

“He only comes around to get free food,” you smile as the stray feasts on the food you bought for him. “I wanted to take him home, but I guess he likes his freedom. He checks in once in a while to let me know he’s still alive.”

“A stray,” Reacher watches you pat the dog. “Maybe he’s scared of settling down. Someone must’ve chased him away before.”

“Hmm…” You nod thoughtfully and pat the dog’s head. “I only want to protect him. If he runs around town the guy from across the street will hurt him.”

“He won’t.” You feel his hand squeeze your shoulder. “I got a few things to take care of in town. Do you know a cheap motel?”

“I got a spare room I rent out,” you hastily say. “I mean, you could have it. It has got a bathroom too. You can use the kitchen if you clean it afterward. If you help me repair the sink, you can have it for free.”

He nods and holds out his hand to help you up. “I can’t tell you when I’ll be around.”

“Don’t worry,” you grab his hand to write your address on his hand. “You can come around anytime.” His eyes widen when you put a key in his hand next.

“You trust me enough to hand me a key to your home?” He looks surprised. “You’re a little careless.”

“Believe me,” you pat his chest, “I’m not careless, nor dumb. I know exactly who I let inside my house.”

Reacher quirks a brow at your words but doesn’t ask what you mean. You turn your attention back toward the dog, and he’s got work to do.

He will start with the restaurant owner across the street.

Part 2

All works tags

@yolobloggers

@shikshinkwon

@miraclesoflove

@mogaruke

@shatteredabby

@soryuwifeyxx

@letsdisneythings

@i-love-superheroees-blog

@thevelvetseries

@anaelsbrunette

@sabascio

@goodgodimaweirdperson

@that-place-called-middle-earth

@wally-darling-hyperfixation

@zxph-yr

@belovedcherry

@matsumama

@emoryhemsworth

@buckybarnesplumwhore

@coldmuffinbanditshoe​

@princesssterek​

@xoxabs88xox​

@wandering-spiritash​

@riathearora

@the-loml-got-nailed

@greeneyedblondie44​

@gh0stgurl​

@charmed-asylum​ 

@fallen-wolf22​

@thegirlnextdoorssister​

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187​

@black-rose-29​

@caplanbuckybarnes​

@wykkedwitch​

@sexicherri3​

@loki-laufeyson-1054​

@liloxclu

@km-ffluv​

@bubsonnobx

[searchingwardrobes]

So basically fanfic writers can have Granny serve whatever the hell we want since the writers never bothered to figure it out either 🤣🤣 Why does this not surprise me?

WTF IS ON THE MENU THEN?!

[cute-sucker]

note: more for liona!! (inspiration) <3 send me some requests if you'd like some of diner!jj

short masterlist: part one here, part two here, part three here, part five here, part six here !

˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.

diner!jj learned early on that you hated loud noises. he watched you carefully the first time you were invited to the kitchen when the two of you had to curate the perfect version of the chocolate milk. he watched you cower at the noise, skittish as you tried to give him a smile.

all he did was place a soothing hand on your waist and pull you closer, and it was as if that worked. your body seemed to soften at his touch, and he bit back a smile.

but somehow you continued coming back into the kitchen, sitting on one of the counters and eating chocolate-covered strawberries. he could tell you loved chocolate. today you had come alone, leaving your baby with some granny near your apartment complex.

he watched you blush when you asked to come into the kitchen, expectantly looking up at him. he felt like a schoolboy stammering out sentences, hands in his pockets as he murmured out soft, 'yea's."

you were wearing jeans and a cute flowery top. there was something about the glow in your eyes when you walked in that made him want to bundle you up and kiss your forehead, but instead he found himself gruffly making muffins.

he could feel your eyes on him, keenly watching his every move, the ripple of his muscles, and one time when his white shirt rode up his back- you were watching. he turned back slowly to see you flushing, eying you a magazine that you had brought with you.

but that whole sweet moment is ruined by his staff, ernesto moves in quickly, "chef?"

jj clenches his jaw, eyes still on your figure as you go through pages of the magazine. "what's up?"

ernesto winces, running a hand through his hair, "chef, we fucked up the pancakes. burnt. all of them," and then he sees the way jj closes his eyes, and quickly moves in front of him, "but we're on it! we're fixing it, man."

at another moment he would yell. how the hell could well-seasoned cooks mess up something as simple as pancakes? it was one of their staple foods. but then his eyes travelled to you.

you sat there, blinking owlishly as if you could tell something had gone wrong. when jj catches your eye, you seem to bite your lip to stop a grin. there was something about that sight that softened his heart.

no, he could not yell.

god, you had such a hold on him, and you weren't even dating him. but knowing the way he felt for you, if the two of you started to he would worship the floor you walked on. he would make sure nothing made you scared again.

goddamn it.

he clenches his jaw, "just fucking fix it," and he walks off eye twitching.

you would be the bane of his existence.

taglist: @yourmumstoym @lionasvault @saturnrings77 @rainbowpiss34@wowza31419 @tcddszn@maraudersmyloves@stxr-slut@redhead1180@dinnodallas

[toruskiii]

Love Delivery!

Synopsis: Balancing part-time food delivery with a busy school schedule is no easy task. One day, while on a delivery, you find yourself awkwardly waiting at the door of a luxurious apartment. Suddenly, the door swings open, revealing a handsome, albeit annoyingly rich, man. Genre: Romance, fluff, slow-burn?? (modern au!) Character: Aventurine x fem!reader Warnings: Hot sassy men apocalypse, maybe this will have a part 2 or smth idk

[masterlist] [about me]

Ding!

Someone has placed an order near your set area.

You glance at the notification on your screen, just as you’re snapping a picture of the food you’ve delivered to the nice granny’s house. The elderly lady smiles politely, waiting patiently as you finish taking the photo.

“Ah, another order, young lady?” she croaks out, offering a small, grateful bow when you hand her the plastic bag of food. “Thank you so much, hoho. I’m sorry to trouble you young folks, but it’s hard for my old bones to get around, you know?” She chuckles, giving your shoulder a gentle pat.

You smile at her and shake your head, waving off her concern. "It's no problem, granny. It's my job, after all." After bidding farewell to the old lady, you put on your helmet, hop back on your bike, and accept the new order request.

Penacony's Clock Diner? Wait-

You quickly check the location set for your food delivery, confused by the address. You're all the way in Aurem Alley, and the customer wants food from Penacony? Ridiculous.

Location Set: Xianzhou Luofu.

How is this guy even able to send his request to you?

You double-check the address, noticing the system listing it as Fyxestroll Garden. What the hell? There aren’t any apartment complexes at Fyxestroll Garden!

Puzzled, you pull over to the side of the road and open the map on your phone, trying to make sense of it. Fyxestroll Garden is a well-known public park, famous for its serene walking paths and meticulously kept gardens. You can’t recall any buildings, let alone residential ones, in the area. You tap on the address again, hoping it’s a mistake or a glitch, but the coordinates remain unchanged.

Maybe it’s a new complex that just opened? you wonder. Or could it be some sort of exclusive residence hidden within the park?

Not long after, another text message pops up on your screen, and it's from the guy.

Frustration boils within you as you read the message, your temper nearing its breaking point. The blazing sun beats down mercilessly, intensifying your irritation as you stand near the dock, contemplating a plunge into the cooling waters below. How could this customer be so careless as to mess up their address, leaving you to contend with this sweltering heat and an hour-long detour?

And curse this app for its lack of a proper cancellation feature!

With a frustrated groan, you glance at the text, feeling the resistance of your bike's wheels grow heavier as you open the GPS. You're tempted to unleash a torrent of curses at the customer for exploiting some loophole in the app, forcing you to exert yourself just to deliver his order. He better be prepared to tip generously for this inconvenience.

To reach Penacony, your best bet is to take the Astral Express train— a mode of transportation you've used before but disliked immensely. The erratic jumps and occasional turbulence make for a nerve-wracking journey. And that conductor… Was it just fatigue playing tricks on your mind, or did they really have bunny ears…?

You sigh heavily as you enter the station, swiping your pass before parking your bike and leaning against it. Your gaze drifts to the TV hanging on the wall, checking the schedule to see when the train will arrive. Fifteen minutes? Well, there's no escaping it now…

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

You feel like hurling yourself into outer space.

Not only did the restaurant forget to prepare the order, but you're also stuck in a conversation with one of the servers who insists on cracking the most cringeworthy jokes.

"There's no such thing as a bad joke, only lousy comedians who can't deliver them!" the server— Jay, apparently. boasts. Doesn't this guy have other customers to attend to? Good grief. You're tempted to point out that he's no better than those lousy comedians, but you're not that mean— and you definitely don't want to risk losing your job.

"Order number 38! One sarmale and one classic soulglad!" a worker calls out, providing a convenient distraction as you hastily grabbed the food and rush over to your bike— just in time for your phone to start chiming with multiple notifications.

Fuming with frustration, you run a hand through your hair, pedaling away as fast as your legs can carry you to the designated location. One hand grips the handlebars tightly while the other clutches your phone, fingers jabbing at the screen as you send panicked voicemails to the careless customer.

"I'm on my way! I'll be there soon!" you breathe out, your voice strained with urgency, weaving through traffic with reckless abandon. You're so preoccupied that you didn't even bother with your helmet, leaving it hanging on the basket of your bike as you speed along. The wind rushes past you, whipping your hair back as you scream into your phone.

"I'm practically flying to your place. Just hold on!" you seethe, narrowly avoiding collisions with other vehicles. You swear you catch a glimpse of a pair of blue-haired siblings shooting you a skeptical glance as you whiz by. No one's going to meet their demise on my watch.

(Maybe a few might with the way you're on the verge of causing car crashes.)

With determination fueling every pedal, you push yourself to the limit, determined to reach the customer's location before they decide to relocate to another universe altogether.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Upon stepping into the lounge of the apartment complex, you stand there, utterly flabbergasted.

The sight before you is nothing short of opulent. Everyone here is dressed to the nines in fancy attire, oozing sophistication and wealth. I mean, what did you expect? That the guy who ordered the food would settle for anything less than extravagance? 1800 credits for a soda?

But even knowing that, you weren't prepared for the sheer luxury of it all. Marble floors greet you the moment you enter, with plush velvet red sofas arranged in elegant clusters at every corner. The vases of plants adorning the marble countertops probably cost more than your entire monthly rent.

The sprawling expanse of rooms lining the halls seems to stretch on endlessly, giving you the impression that you've stumbled into a palace rather than an apartment complex. You can't help but feel like a humble peasant as you approach the lobby manager, your attire— a mishmash of sweaty clothes and a random jacket—paling in comparison to the impeccably tailored suits of the residents. Are you checking into an apartment or a castle?

What catches you off guard is the realization that most of the people milling about in this opulent setting are students. Students! You recognize familiar faces in the crowd— classmates from the same campus you attend.

"Hello, I'm here to deliver an order for room number ███," you murmur to the manager, noting the slight stress in her demeanor as she punches in the room number to confirm the request. Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise when she directs you to the Platinum room.

The Platinum room? Your mind races with questions as you make your way through the halls, the extravagant surroundings only adding to your bewilderment. What kind of student lives in the Platinum room of an apartment complex like this?

Here you stand, face to face with the imposing wooden door adorned with intricate golden trimmings, feeling as though your bank account is slowly draining with each passing moment. You raise a hand to knock, furrowing your brows in confusion when there's no immediate answer.

"Hey, it's me. I'm here to deliver your food," you call out, giving the door another firm knock. Still, there's no response. Seriously?

Technically, you could just leave the food at his door and be done with it. But something about the luxuriousness of this apartment complex makes you hesitate. It wouldn't reflect well on you to simply abandon the delivery outside, especially in such an upscale setting. (You internally roll your eyes at the absurdity of it all.)

As the door finally creaks open, you're poised to unleash the most scathing side-eye you can muster— ready to give this guy a piece of your mind for keeping you waiting (and running). But as your gaze meets his, you freeze.

You'd seen his profile picture on the app before, but you'd doubted that a man so devastatingly handsome could possibly exist in real life. You'd convinced yourself that it was probably some sort of prank or scam, someone using a fake photo to lure in unsuspecting victims.

But now, standing before you, is a man who defies all logic. His golden, tousled locks frame a face so strikingly beautiful it steals your breath away. His eyes— oh, those eyes— they're like pools of sapphire surrounded by a halo of lavender. You feel your cheeks flush hot with embarrassment as you struggle to find your voice, your words caught in your throat like a lump of lead.

He gazes back at you, those mesmerizing eyes flickering with mild curiosity as he tilts his head inquisitively. "Hm? Ah, it's you," he says, breaking the spell of silence that had enveloped you. But you can hardly hear him over the thunderous pounding of your heart, which seems to be screaming one thing over and over again: He's even more breathtaking in person.

You mentally slap yourself, shaking off the remnants of your daze as you stumble over your words, handing him his bag of food with trembling hands. "R-right, sorry to keep you waiting. Here's your food, sir," you manage to stutter out, inwardly cursing yourself for apologizing. Why am I apologizing? He's the one who's in the wrong here!

He lets out a soft chuckle, and you swear the sun must be finding its way to shine through the walls of the complex as your ears burn at the mere sound of his laugh. It's so calming, so captivating, that you feel like you're floating in a dream.

"No, no. Don't apologize. It's my fault for entering the wrong address," he reassures you, his voice smooth as silk. His fingers brush over yours as he reaches for his food, sending an electric shock through your entire body at the brief contact. You can't help but notice how his gaze softens as he opens the plastic bag to check the contents, a small hum of satisfaction escaping his lips at the sight of the still-warm food. You decide not to question it— perhaps he's just feeling a bit homesick.

You continue to awkwardly stand there, your hands fidgeting nervously in your pockets as you struggle to find something to say. "So, uh, your total is 6500 credits, sir," you finally manage to blurt out, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck.

He blinks in mild surprise, a small "ah" escaping his lips before he nods, disappearing momentarily back into his apartment. He returns a moment later, wallet in hand, a mischievous smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Since I've troubled you so much, how much do you want me to pay you back with, hm?" he teases, his tone playful.

You stare at him, your mouth hanging open in disbelief. Well, he did put you through quite a bit of trouble, making you trek all over town just to deliver two measly items. But still, the thought of asking for more money makes you feel incredibly awkward and embarrassed. "No, that…that won't be necessary," you choke out, feeling your palms grow sweaty with nervousness. "There's no need—"

"I insist," he interrupts, his tone firm yet strangely charming.

Well, damn. You're caught between feeling grateful for his generosity and feeling utterly mortified at the prospect of asking for more payment. But with his insistence ringing in your ears, you find yourself reluctantly nodding in agreement, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"1000 credits is fine," you mumble, feeling a pang of guilt at the thought of asking for more money.

"Just 1000?" he repeats, narrowing his eyes at you with a slight frown. "That's quite low, considering the trouble I've put you through," he adds, his fingers skimming through his wallet in search of more credits.

As he rummages through his wallet, you can't help but notice his student card peeking out from among the bills. Your lips part in shock as you realize he's a student at the IPC—yeah, he's definitely rich. You should have haggled for more money.

"Are— do you major in accounting…?" you blurt out before you can stop yourself, your eyes darting to his card. He hums in response, shaking his head. "Nah, fashion. I can't count."

The two of you maintain eye contact for a few moments, and you find yourself staring at him dumbly while he gives you a cat-like grin.

"Did you actually buy that? I'm joking. I major in both finance and accounting."

You can't help but feel a twinge of annoyance at his flippant attitude. This man radiates fuck-boy energy, and you're starting to have second thoughts. Does he get a pass because of his looks, or is it because of his looks that he gets a pass?

"Oh," is all you can manage to answer as he hands you a random stack of credits.

You stare dumbfounded at his outstretched hand, uncertainty flickering in your eyes as you glance back and forth between the stash of credits and his gaze. "Huh? How much is this?" you inquire, still hesitant to accept the payment.

"Does it really matter?" he scoffs, nudging you playfully. "1000 credits is way too little, and I don't like scamming people. I don't stoop that low," he chuckles, his tone light despite the seriousness of the situation. When you don't budge, he feels a twitch in his eye before suddenly grabbing your jacket and tugging at your pockets, causing you to let out a startled yelp. "Hey! What the hell—"

Ignoring your protest, he shoves the credits inside your pocket with lazy nonchalance, letting out a whistle of satisfaction before releasing his hold. "There. Now just think of it as you were robbed in reverse," he quips, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"That's not helping!"

"It's not like your boss or whoever's in charge of the app will check your pockets, right? I'm just giving you tips, there's nothing wrong with that," he shrugs, struggling to hold back a snort at how visibly annoyed you look. If this were any other person, like an 'actual' adult or man, he'd brush it off and just toss a random wad of tips your way before politely closing the door. Maybe he'd pause for a pretty lady— well, you are a pretty lady.

But he can tell you're a student, just like him, probably working your ass off just to make ends meet. Hey, he doesn't judge. Plus, it's kind of fun to tease people occasionally, and you remind him of another acquaintance of his who's majoring in medicine.

"So, anything else?" he murmurs, leaning casually against the doorframe, a small smirk playing on his lips.

You can't help but feel a mix of irritation and amusement at his nonchalant attitude. "No, that's it," you reply tersely, your voice tinged with annoyance. You can't wait to get out of here and put this bizarre encounter behind you.

He nods in acknowledgment, his smirk widening ever so slightly. "Alright then. Take care, pretty," he says, offering you a lazy wave before shutting the door gently behind him.

As you make your way back to your bike, you can't help but replay the encounter in your mind, wondering just what the hell just happened. This guy is definitely one of a kind, that's for sure.

As you swiftly exit the complex and pedal back to the train station, a dull headache begins to gnaw at your temples. You have other pending orders waiting for you back in Luofu, and the thought of having to navigate through the city once more only adds to your growing exhaustion. Yet, amidst the fatigue, a small swell of warmth tugs at your heart at the thought of not getting his number.

Sure, he provided his contact information when he placed the order, but with a guy like him, you're almost certain it's just his business line or something equally impersonal. Besides, it would feel a bit creepy to text him out of the blue. What would you even say?

'Hey, I thought you were cute after making me run laps around the city and deal with an annoying server, hmu?'

No way, that's beyond pathetic. Plus, you'd risk losing face.

Lost in your thoughts, you arrive back at the train station, your hands absentmindedly reaching up to touch your flushed cheeks, still tingling from the encounter. He's undeniably attractive, and you can't shake the nagging feeling that he probably already has a girlfriend— or several. Besides, you should be focusing on your studies, not getting involved with some rich fuck boy.

Ding!

Huh?

You're snapped out of your reverie by the sound of a notification chiming on your phone. With a curious frown, you unlock your device to see what it is.

Your heart leaps into your throat as you read the notification, your eyes widening in disbelief. What the hell is wrong with this guy? 10,000 credits? Is he insane?

With trembling hands, you quickly fish out the money he gave you from your pockets, counting through the stack under your breath to keep your panic in check. "6, 7, 8… 9…" you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper as you realize he gave you thrice the amount needed.

Your fingers tap frantically on your phone screen as you type out a response, your words rushed and panicked. "Dude, you gave me thrice the amount needed already—stop."

As you stare at the screen, your mind reels with disbelief. He just willingly gave you his phone number— and he thinks you're cute?

It's a little funny, in a surreal sort of way, that the entire conversation is still ongoing within the food service app. Here you are, exchanging private messages with each other despite the platform's intended purpose.

You gulp, feeling the heat rise to the tips of your ears. Your brows knit together in a mixture of disbelief and slight annoyance, the memory of the earlier encounter still fresh in your mind. After all, he did put you through quite a bit of trouble with that address mix-up.

Should you add him?

"…"

You're caught off guard as a strong gust of wind rushes past you, fluttering your hair in its wake as the Astral Express train arrives. The station immediately becomes crowded, and you struggle to maneuver your bike into the passenger compartment as people squeeze past you. Finally, you manage to park your bike and squeeze yourself into an empty corner to avoid blocking anyone.

As everyone settles into their seats and grips the handles, the doors of the train shut, and the conductor announces the next stop. You let out a sigh, knowing it'll be another 20 or so stops before you reach Luofu…

Glancing back at your phone, your fingers tap onto it mindlessly, the cabin now quiet save for the occasional cries of children or chatter between friends.

Your gaze softens as a new notification pops up.

Aventurine (loser of a customer) is now saved into your contacts.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Ding!

"Good evening to you again, pretty delivery lady."

[fromthelakes]

Jealousy, Regret, Reconciliation

Pairing: Regina Mills x fem!reader

Warnings: none?

Word Count: 2k

Summary: In the midst of a lively evening at Granny’s Diner, Regina Mills becomes increasingly agitated by a misinterpreted situation between her secret lover (you) and Ruby, sparking a heated argument. The night brings a storm of emotions, keeping both you and Regina awake, haunted by the recent conflict.

A/N: Heyy, this is my first ever fanfiction and I honestly don’t know how to feel about it. I just wanted to try writing a jealousy fic of Regina because… why not? Also I’m not sure how to tag this because, again, I’m very new to writing fanfiction. Anyways feel free to leave any advice or criticism on how I could improve my writing (please be nice though, because I am sensitive af lmaoo). Oh, and the classic "english isn't my first language" applies to this

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The atmosphere at Granny's Diner was as vibrant as ever, filled with its customary chatter and laughter. Regina Mills sat in the corner booth, seemingly focused on her drink. Yet, her gaze intermittently drifted towards you, engrossed in what seemed like an innocent conversation with Ruby Lucas, your laughters blending in with the diner’s ambiance.

Despite the celebration for a milestone achieved in Storybrooke, Regina's attention remained elsewhere. She noticed the way Ruby's gaze lingered on you, and a flicker of unease sparked within her. Though typically composed, Regina couldn’t help feeling a twinge of jealousy seeing Ruby direct playful banter at you.

Regina had always been protective, especially of you. The two of you had been friends for years, your bond growing stronger as time passed. Recently, however, your relationship had shifted, blossoming into something deeper and more intimate. You and Regina had been secretly dating for several months now, relishing the clandestine nature of your romance, keeping it hidden from the prying eyes of Storybrooke's inhabitants.

As the evening progressed, Regina found it increasingly challenging to ignore the growing jealousy that had taken root within her. Each playful exchange between you and Ruby fueled the flames of her simmering frustration, her jaw clenching with suppressed emotions.

Inwardly seething, Regina took a deliberate sip of her drink, a facade of composure masking the turmoil raging within her. The cool liquid did little to quell the storm of emotions churning beneath the surface as she maintained a poised exterior, concealing the inner conflict brewing within her.

As Ruby leaned closer to you—a gesture Regina interpreted as flirtatious—her jaw clenched further, the surge of jealousy nearly escalating. Her grip on her drink tightened, the glass threatening to shatter under the pressure of her clenched fingers. She had to look away, fearing that her emotions would betray her in front of everyone.

Ruby's laughter crescendoed, a sound that grated against Regina's frayed nerves. Each interaction between you and Ruby felt like a dagger twisting in her chest. Regina's mind raced with irrational thoughts and deep-buried fears. The ache in her chest had morphed into simmering anger, a blend of jealousy and frustration.

Eventually, the tension proved too much to bear. Regina abruptly rose from her seat, the sharp clicks of her stilettos echoing across the wooden floor of the diner, drawing your attention. Your eyes met hers, capturing a glimpse of something raw and untamed within Regina’s usually composed expression before she stormed out of the diner, her sole focus on escaping the suffocating atmosphere.

You watched her leave, a furrow forming on your brow, a mixture of confusion and concern evident. Sensing the tension that had soured the once cheerful atmosphere, you quickly excused yourself from Ruby's company.

Outside the diner, the cool night air failed to offer any relief as Regina briskly walked down the sidewalk, the echo of her heels punctuating the silent night with each determined step. The weight of unresolved emotions hung heavy in the air, evident in her gait and tense posture.

“Regina!” you called out, your voice cutting through the stillness of the night. Regina hesitated for a moment, the rhythmic click of her heels faltering before she continued walking, determined to distance herself from the scene that had stirred up a storm of emotions in her.

Desperate to bridge the growing distance between you, you quickened your pace, the echo of your own heels resonating as you tried to catch up to her. “Regina, please!” you called out again, the urgency evident in your voice.

Regina slowed down, hesitating for a fleeting moment before reluctantly turning to face you. Despite the distance, the streetlights illuminated the conflict etched on her features, a blend of hurt and frustration.

As you finally caught up to her, you were slightly taken aback by the look on her face. "What's wrong?" you questioned, worry lacing your voice.

"What's wrong?" Regina scoffed, her eyes flashing with suppressed frustration. "Can you not see it? How you entertain every flirtatious remark from Ruby as if it's some kind of game?"

Your brows furrowed into a puzzled expression. "Regina, Ruby and I are just friends." you defended, a hint of frustration creeping into your tone.

Regina's facade cracked, her voice rising with pent-up emotions. "Friends? Can't you see how she looks at you? How you laugh at her jokes and bask in her attention?

"I don't know what you're talking about," you retorted, a surge of defensiveness colouring your voice. "Ruby is just a friend, and you know that."

"Don't play ignorant!" Regina's words cut through the air like a knife. "I saw the way Ruby practically threw herself at you, and you seemed all too eager to indulge her!"

Confusion swept over you. "Indulge her? Ruby was just being friendly!"

"You don't see it, do you?" Regina's voice wavered between anger and hurt. "I've watched the way she looks at you, and it's not just harmless banter!"

Caught between Regina's piercing gaze and the unexpected accusation, you felt a surge of frustration rise within you. "Regina, it wasn't like that! Ruby and I were just having a conversation—"

"You can't be that naive!" Regina cut in, her frustration boiling over. "She was flirting with you right in front of me!"

You let out a scoff of disbelief. “Are you serious, Regina?” you questioned, eyebrows raising in astonishment. “Are you actually suggesting that? Or are you just fucking jealous?” you shot back, your disbelief now mixed with irritation.

Regina’s eyes widened, her initial frustration giving way to a mix of surprise and indignation. “Jealous?” she snapped back, letting out a breathless chuckle. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just pointing out the obvious.” Her words carried a sharp edge, her frustration still palpable.

“You’re overreacting!" you retorted, anger and hurt evident in your voice. "Sorry I didn't realise I needed your permission to talk to someone!"

The words hung heavily in the air, each sentence fueling the fiery argument. Regina's jaw clenched, her emotions unravelling with each passing second. "This isn't about me. It's about you and your constant need for attention from others!"

Her words cut deep, and you felt a surge of frustration mingled with hurt pride. "Is that what you really think?” you questioned, the words coming out with a mixture of hurt and astonishment.

Regina’s gaze hardened, the tension palpable in the charged air between you. “It’s not about what I think, it’s what I’ve seen.” she retorted sharply, her voice tinged with a mixture of exasperation and lingering hurt.

You stared at her, a lump forming in your throat. The air around you seemed to disappear, making you feel suffocated. “After everything—” you paused, struggling to contain the tumultuous emotions threatening to spill over. “Do you not trust me?” you whispered, tears threatening well up in your eyes as you swallowed the lump in your throat.

Before Regina could say anything, you turned away and stormed off, leaving her standing there in the chilly autumn night. Regina watched you disappear behind a corner before she let out a frustrated groan. 

Regina got into her car, slamming the door shut with an echoing thud and driving away. Both of you retreated to your respective homes, leaving the echoes of the heated argument haunting the empty streets of Storybrooke.

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As the night settled in Storybrooke, both you and Regina sequestered in your separate residents, enveloped in the lingering aftermath of the argument. The thunderstorm raging outside seemed to match the intensity of emotions both you and Regina were experiencing, leaving you both unable to sleep.

Regina sat by the window of her dimly lit bedroom, the occasional lightning illuminating the shadows that danced on the walls. Her mind was a chaotic whirlwind, replaying the argument with you over and over again. Frustration mingled with regret as she pondered her rash actions. She knew her emotions had gotten the better of her, unleashing a torrent of pent-up feelings she had desperately tried to conceal.

Regina continued watching raindrops race down the glass pane, mirroring the tears she had refused to shed. Her thoughts drifted back to the moment she had stormed out of Granny’s Diner, her heart aching with the realisation that she might have irreversibly damaged something precious with her outburst.

Meanwhile, you sat in your own dwelling, the distant thunder echoing the turmoil in your mind. The argument replayed in your thoughts like a broken record. Confusion and frustration gripped you as you pondered the misunderstanding that had spiralled out of control.

Despite your best efforts to push the heated exchange aside, you couldn’t shake off the unease that lingered. Regina’s words cut deep, leaving wounds of misunderstanding and hurt. You hadn't anticipated this level of conflict, especially with someone as close as Regina.

As the night wore on, the storm showed no signs of relenting, as if mirroring the unresolved tension between you and Regina. Each raindrop that splattered against the windowpanes seemed to echo the unspoken words and emotions that lingered between you.

In a sudden surge of determination, Regina couldn’t let things remain this way. She couldn’t shake off the unsettling feeling of discord that had settled between you two. Despite the pouring rain outside, Regina made a decision.

Grabbing her coat, Regina dashed out into the storm, the raindrops pelting against her skin. She hurried through the deserted streets of Storybrooke, the only sounds being the rhythmic drumming of the rain and the occasional distant rumble of thunder. Each step towards your house felt heavier than the last, fueled by the urgency to clear the air and mend what felt irreparably broken.

Lost in your thoughts, you were startled by the sharp knock echoing through your home, interrupting the solitary brooding. You hesitated, puzzled by the unexpected visitor in the midst of such a storm. As you approached the door, the knock came again, more urgent this time.

Opening the door, you were taken aback by the sight before you—Regina stood there drenched, rainwater streaming down her face, making her usually impeccable appearance dishevelled.

"Regina, what—?" Your words were cut short as Regina closed the gap between you in an instant, her hands softly cupping your face and her lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss.

Your initial shock quickly gave way to a surge of warmth as you reciprocated the kiss. Despite the storm raging outside, this moment felt oddly serene—the only thing that mattered was the feeling of her lips against yours.

Regina pulled back slightly, her eyes searching yours, a mix of apology and vulnerability reflected in their depths. “I’m so sorry.” she murmured, the words tinged with sincerity. “I didn’t mean for things to escalate earlier. I just...”

Regina’s lips parted, but no words escaped. You reached out, gently brushing a rain-soaked strand of hair from her face. Your gaze held a silent understanding, an unspoken acknowledgment of the tangled emotions that had led to this moment.

“I overreacted.” Regina admitted softly. “I let my insecurities get the better of me. I never meant to hurt you.”

The sincerity in her gaze was undeniable. You could sense the walls she had meticulously built crumbling down, exposing her raw feelings beneath the surface.

You gave her a sympathetic smile before pulling her into a tender embrace. Regina’s arms wrapped around you and her breath hitched slightly as she buried her face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your familiar scent.

"I didn't mean to upset you either." you whispered into her hair. Regina’s embrace tightened slightly as a silent acknowledgment of your words.

You both lingered in the embrace, finding comfort in the closeness that transcended words. However, as if nature had its own timing, a sudden rumble of thunder echoed through the sky, reverberating around you. Regina instinctively pulled away, her eyes widening slightly in realisation.

You glanced towards the downpour outside, the intensity of the storm painting the world in shades of grey. The reminder brought a faint chuckle from both of you, a brief interjection in the midst of the emotional intensity. 

"Come on, I don’t want you to catch a cold." you said softly, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you pulled her inside your home, away from the rain-soaked night. As Regina stepped over the threshold, you closed the door behind her, shutting out the storm and the chaos of the outside world.

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[eleonoraalbright]

An Ill-Timed Confession Part 1

Pairing: Peter Pan x fem!reader (kinda)

Summary: You tell Henry about your romantic feelings towards Peter Pan. Unfortunately for you, he turns out not to be Henry.

The citizens of Storybrooke gathered in Granny’s diner to celebrate. Most wore big jovial smiles and talked excitedly to their companions. You took note of the absolute happiness that seemed to radiate from David and Mary Margret. Nevertheless, their daughter was uneasy, as if she half expected the Pied Piper himself to waltz through the doors and rip her son’s heart out.

You felt sorry for Emma’s needless worrying, but understood where it stemmed from. After all, many restless nights would have to be endured before you forgot Pan’s threats in Neverland, not that you wanted to forget every single comment of his just yet. You pushed that particular thought back deep in your mind where it would have to be reconsidered later. You chose to focus on more trivial matters.

Hook was seated at the bar, drinking with the boisterous dwarves. It didn’t escape your notice how often his gaze flickered between the Savior and her ex-boyfriend; Neal left his place beside Henry to chat with Mother Superior. You eyed the pirate’s ill-natured manner with interest when Ruby interrupted your musings of his unfortunate predicament by placing a steaming mug of apple cider on the counter.

You accepted the hot beverage, maneuvering your way through the crowded restaurant and slid into the booth to sit across from Henry. His attention was directed to the storybook in front of him. Even upside down, you recognized the illustration of Cinderella dancing at the ball with her prince. Henry glanced up, seeming apprehensive at your arrival, he tensed for some strange reason. His fingers tapped the edge of the smooth paper.

You offered him a reassuring smile. It would be reasonable for his nerves to be a bit frayed after his harrowing adventure. You blew on your drink and asked in a quiet tone, “How’re you holding up?”

“Good. It’s good to be back here with my family.”

You nodded your head in agreement. That was the understatement of the year. The distress and danger he went through the past few days must have been unimaginable. People often said kids were resilient, however, it was odd how unfazed Henry was at being reunited with his loving family. Odder still was his cold and distant attitude towards you. This was the first genuine conversation you two had exchanged since his capture. It was unlike him to keep to himself for so long.

You were close friends and confidants. It was worrisome for Henry to be this reserved around you. What had happened in Neverland that would have caused such an abrupt change? The next second, you berated yourself for such a thought, having one’s heart torn out would have drastic mental consequences. It was possible he wasn’t comfortable discussing his feelings yet. On the other hand, it would be harmful if he kept them bottled up inside his mind to fester.

The best course of action was to respect his silence and hope in time he would open up. You took another sip of cider while Henry went back to reading. The message was clear; he had no interest in talking any further. The temptation to leave was strong, but you remained in your seat. There was a question you were desperate for Henry to answer, the sooner the better. You blurted out, “What was he like?”

He glanced at you again. “Who?”

“Peter Pan. What was he like? I only met him a handful of times on the island, and he was pretty intimidating. How did he act around you? I mean, Pan was deranged, how’d he manage to convince you to give up your heart?”

Henry shrugged and flipped a page before replying. “He told me magic was dying and my heart was needed to save it. I believed him. And he was…” Henry shivered a little. “He was scary. I’m glad he’s gone.”

You propped your elbows on the table and rested your chin in the palm of your hand, waiting for him to elaborate. He didn’t. Henry reached for his glass of root beer, refusing to utter one more word. You sighed, “Too bad he was a psychopath. Pan was kinda hot.”

Henry spat out his drink, spewing the soft drink all over the table and its contents. You grabbed a handful of napkins and dabbed them on the storybook. “Henry, be careful you almost ruined it!” Emma paused speaking to her parents and shot you both a quizzical look. You waved the wet napkins at her, signaling everything was fine, only a little spill had happened.

“What did you say?” Henry wasn’t the least bit concerned about the precious book. His eyes were wide and his mouth somewhat agape.

“I know, I know, he was a murderer and evil and wanted to kill all of us. But in my defense, he was attractive.”

Henry said nothing for a solid minute, and stared at you as if an extra head had grown from your neck. You were beginning to worry that the poor boy’s brain had broken upon hearing your staggering statement.

As the seconds ticked by you began to regret saying your astonishing confession aloud. Your attraction to Pan was something you had been grappling with ever since laying eyes on him.

You shamed yourself for feeling this way toward such a revolting person, but that would not dampen them. During the adventure, it had been eating you alive from the inside out.

The rest of the group had been debating over the best way to save Henry, how to rescue Neal, and the complications of getting off the Island. Meanwhile, you had been battling the guilt of being enamored with your best friend’s captor.

Near the end of the journey, you made peace with this upsetting fact by realizing you could acknowledge Pan’s attractiveness and still hate his guts for kidnapping Emma’s son.

Though the shock on Henry’s face made you question the wisdom of admitting this so soon after the terrible ordeal. You were on the brink of explaining your more nuanced views to him on this delicate subject when his expression changed.

The corners of his lips turned upward in a disbelieving smirk as he raised one eyebrow in wonderment. He said in a soft voice, almost to himself, “You… like Pan?”

The grin spread wider across his face and he covered his mouth with a hand to muffle the sound of his laughter. His body shook in a fit of merriment. He pointed a finger at you; his eyes contained a mocking glint which was quite foreign to them. “You have a crush on Pan!”

You were uncomfortable at his reaction, but believed it was somewhat deserved. Gesturing to him to lower his voice, you attempted to hobble together a defense. “Not really a crush per say, I–”

Henry interrupted, “That’s so gross. He's– he’s Rumpelstiltskin's dad!”

“That’s true, but it just makes me wonder whether or not Mr. Gold was that good looking in his younger days,” you joked.

He shuddered at that remark and twisted his features into one of disgust. “Ew, I’ll never understand girls.” Puzzled at your stance on his villainous great grandfather, Henry probed, “Why did you like him?”

“Like is a strong word. I didn’t like him. He was gonna kill us all for Pete’s sake, but I did observe that Pan was blessed… genetically speaking.”

A mischievous air hung about Henry as he inched forward in his seat, tilting his head close to yours, and whispered in a low tone. “Tell me, do you fantasize about Peter Pan?”

Your mouth dropped open at his blunt question. You replied in a strained voice, “Henry, that’s a very inappropriate thing to ask.” What on earth had possessed him to say that?

Moments earlier, he was repulsed at the prospect of you harboring secret feelings for Pan and now he was inquiring whether or not you fantasize about his relative!

It was your turn for your brain to stop working. Henry had never, never asked you such a personal question in all your years of friendship. This was most unlike him.

Was there a chance he had bashed his head on a rock somewhere to justify this sudden change of personality? He leaned back into the booth. “That alone gives me my answer.”

Before you could chastise him for his nauseatingly smug attitude, Emma sauntered next to the table. “Sorry to break up the chit chat, kid, it’s time for something you didn’t have in Neverland. Bedtime.”

Henry closed his book, disappointed for having to leave so soon. You were quite relieved; however, sensing Henry was having far too much fun with this knowledge at his fingertips. You were too stunned at your friend’s response to see he had left with Regina and not Emma.

That conversation had left a bad taste in your mouth. Something wasn’t right with Henry and it made you uneasy. Regret at having confessed your passing fancy towards Peter Pan seeped through you. It could be that this Neverland escapade still had a few loose ends that needed to be tied up.

You help David and Emma cover Mother Superior's body with a blanket. You shoved your trembling fingers in your coat’s pockets. Your eyes darted up to the sky and scanned for any sign of the one who did this. You didn’t feel safe. At any moment you could meet the same fate as well. The danger was lurking around the corner and–

“What the hell happened?”

You jumped slightly as Regina and Henry raced up to your group.

David answered her. “The shadow, it killed her.”

“Pan’s shadow? I trapped it on the sail.” Regina was confused.

“Yeah, well, it got free.” Emma said while crouching on the steps.

Comprehension dawned on everyone as they realized what that meant. Pan was back. You moved to Henry and wrapped your arms around him in a protective gesture. All thoughts of last night's events flew from your mind.

If Pan was somehow controlling the Shadow from inside the box, then he would never stop terrorizing them until he had the Truest Believer’s Heart. Henry was going to die. The adults discussed what to do as you patted Henry on the head.

The boy said in a hollow voice, “So Pan can still hurt me?”

Regina responded to comfort him, “We don’t know that.” You knew it was inevitable he did though.

“But we have to assume he’s still a threat.” Mary Margret clasped her hands together in worry.

You added, “And that he’s after Henry.”

“Then what am I doing here?” Henry wriggled out of your grasp, looking anxious.

David said, “He’s right. He’s not safe out in the open.”

“You’ll protect me, right?” He hugged Regina as she consoled him.

You were put off at how easily he disregarded you in favor of his mother. It was like he didn’t even acknowledge your presence. But of course, it was natural for a son to turn to his mom in his time of need.

You stopped scolding yourself when you overheard Emma tell Regina that Henry didn’t seem like himself. Your feelings of unease felt vindicated now if she was aware that her son was acting a bit different. It made your head spin; what could it mean?

After convincing Mr. Gold to give up Pandora’s Box, you all drove to the edge of Storybrooke. You huddled close to Mary Margret and David, watching the red smoke swirl out of the box.

It transformed into Pan, and Emma cocked her gun. Pan stood up, breathing hard, he acted confused, and dumbfounded to see everyone's mistrustful faces. You had to admit, he was a good actor. You couldn’t believe the next words that popped out of his mouth.

“Mum?”

Emma was also taken aback. “What?”

“What are you waiting for? Shoot him,” Gold ordered.

Pan panicked. “Don’t! Please! I’m Henry. Pan, he switched our bodies.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Emma continued pointing the gun at him.

You didn’t know what to think of this situation. You wanted to trust him. It would explain Henry's peculiar actions. The other, more cynical part, of your brain was reprimanding yourself for entertaining the outlandish idea.

Pan was a master manipulator, capable of slaughtering you and your loved ones in a millisecond if it benefitted him. He toyed with people’s minds and reveled in the horrible game of it. Your sympathetic side excused that truth when seeing Pan’s face. He was hurt and betrayed. Henry, you were sure it was him, needed a friend.

You almost took a step over the red line when Gold stopped you with his cane and said, “Don’t listen to him. This is one of his tricks.”

Pan/Henry was adamant. “No, it’s not! He did it right before Mr. Gold captured me in the box. I swear!” He stepped forward, but Emma stopped him.

Holding one hand out, she commanded, “Don’t come any closer.” Mr. Gold ordered her to shoot him again. She didn’t. “Maybe he is telling the truth. Maybe that’s why I can’t shake this feeling something’s off about Henry.” Mr. Gold argued with her, but Emma asked Pan to prove his claim.

He started listing facts about Henry. They weren’t persuaded by this. Emma stated, “Pan might know facts. But life is made up of more than that. There are moments. He can’t possibly know all of them. The first time you and I connected, you remember that? Not met, but connected.”

Pan’s face softened at the happy memory. He told her the conversation they had at his castle right after she came to Storybrooke. Emma lowered her gun and embraced him. “It is Henry.”

She released him and they crossed the line into Storybrooke. Henry hugged his grandparents and you soon followed. He enveloped you in a bone crushing hug which you returned with equal joy at having your friend back. It was a little weird since every sense told you this was to all intents and purposes Peter Pan. You pulled back to examine him.

Staring into his green eyes, you squished his cheeks. “This is so surreal.” You tapped his nose. “You really look like him, ya know.” Henry laughed, a delightful but bizarre sound coming from Pan’s throat. It was too innocent.

The full impact of what was happening hit you. You retreated a couple of paces from your friends, and hid your face as mortification overcame your entire being. “Oh no.”

“What’s wrong?” Henry put a comforting hand on your shoulder.

Your face felt ablaze. If Pan was Henry, that meant… “I might’ve– I didn’t know it was him!”

Mr. Gold urged you to go on. “Yes? What is it?”

You gulped as they came closer. “Last night at Granny’s, I told Henry—who I thought was Henry—that Pan was hot.”

Both David and Mary Margret closed their eyes in exasperation. Emma stared at you, questioning your sanity. Bell grinned, and to your surprise, Mr. Gold was unbothered by this. “How tragic. However, we have larger problems that must be dealt with other than your lack of taste.”

“Do you think he’ll do anything to me for saying that to him?” You asked Henry. He had smirked at your confession, which had made your heart beat faster at the sight. You wanted to slap yourself for that reaction. Now he frowned at your inquiry.

“I don’t know. Pan might not care or he might target you because of it. Don’t worry about it. We’ll stop him.”

You climbed into the truck’s backseat. The sinking sensation settled in your stomach despite Henry reassuring you everything would turn out for the better. Peter Pan had a plan and it would lead to everyone’s ruin. Your only hope was that he wasn’t concocting a special method of torture for you since laying open your abashed feelings towards him.

(The previous night)

In the body of his grandson, Pan walked arm-in-arm with Regina down the sidewalk to her home. It was loathsome having to humor the woman while she talked to whom she believed was her son. He answered her relentless questions to the best of his ability, keeping his replies vague and unassuming.

She didn’t seem to heed his noncommittal responses. He was impatient for this part of his scheme to be done. He restrained his strong desire to kill her this instant because he had to find her vault first. Pan distracted himself from that impulse by thinking of what you had told him.

It would be beyond humiliating for you when you found out the truth. He couldn’t wait to see your gobsmacked expression when he revealed his true identity, and made Storybrooke into the New Neverland.

Peter Pan would make you regret ever spilling your secrets to him. He was eager to make you into his new plaything, to see how long it took you to cry, to break. He wondered how far over the edge he could drive you. Grateful for the limited light, he allowed a cruel, sadistic smile to form on his lips. This was all too perfect and pleasurable for him.

[morosoro]

Ouat fans behold:

Somebody (not me & I do not know this person. I just saw someone on Reddit post about having seen this and decided to post it myself here on tumblr) on Lego Ideas is trying to gain support for some OUAT Lego sets!

It looks absolutely wonderful! It features the library clock tower, Granny’s diner and Mr.Gold’s pawnshop with a large array of familiar characters and props! Check it out!

Supporting the idea is easy! No money necessary, it’s simply a show of interest! You just have to make a quick Lego Ideas account that you never have to touch again, and it will add you to the list of supporters. They’re only aiming for 1000 at the moment and have over a year to reach that goal and gain more time. They need 10k for Lego to acknowledge it. Let’s try to get it there, maybe even knock it outta the park and hopefully make Lego see that is is something the people want!