#i don’t know why i never thought about simply searching them in the catalog but here we are

[asymphonyofstarlight]

and… I have just learned where the selected journals of LMM are in my college stacks so… I am now very occupied thank you very much

[the-hate-keeps-me-warm]

kisses and cuddles

wooooooooo time for some more fluffy shit yall i loved making this so much this sorta relted to my weed garden fic but you dont need to read it (be cool tho)

Ruby was sitting in the cafeteria with Oscar and penny she was too tired to pay attention to what the two were talking about penny sitting across from her and Oscar was excitedly talking about something while Oscar liens looking interested she’s unsure how he’s so put together they were both up late hanging out dreading comics and it’s only 7 am she leaned on Oscar and closed her eyes hoping to get a little more sleep before She had to do missions she had a relatively short one today only a search and destroy so maybe she could get home fast and take a nap Oscar nudged her shoulder and she lifted her head “hey don’t fall asleep if you don’t eat you’ll be grumpy” he says she fakes a pout and starts eating the gross cafeteria food she assumed that atlas food would be good sense it’s so many rich folks but no she’s actually had  better tasting mres or maybe she was just getting spoiled eating Oscar and rens cooking “ruby why are you so tired did you have trouble sleeping” penny says drawing circles on the table with her finger “no me and Oscar were up late last night and I only slept like three hours“ penny frowns “while I am happy you and Oscar are spending time together you require at least 6 hours of sleep for maximum field efficiency” ruby just nods “so why don’t you seem tired Oscar you couldn’t of slept anymore than I did” she says with a yawn he shrugs and says  “I guess I’m used to it I had to wake up early back home so I always didn’t get a bunch of sleep” penny raises a finger “actually according to my scans  Oscars brain is only running at 89% efficiency and his hear rate is faster from his normal 48 beats per minute to to 51 it is likely that he simply better at hiding his tiredness” Oscar slumps “penny do have everyone’s heart rates memorized” he says exasperated “yes I also have all of your medical charts on file and criminal records why” he raises a brow “criminal record?” Penny nods “yes several of your team have criminal records qrow having the longest with 22 counts of public intoxication as well as 3 of public indecency and” ruby raises her hands “trust me you don’t wanna know the rest they had to make a new law for one of the things he did but who else has charges?” she tries to wake herself with conversation and it sorta works she also learns some new and unsettling things about her friends but eventually breakfast ends and she starts to get her gear ready she’s loading rounds into one of crescent roses magazine when someone knocks on the door to her locker room “it’s open” she calls out and incomes  Oscar he’s holding a small Tupperware box and a small metal tumbler “hey I wanted to give this to you before you go” he says with a sheepish grin he sets the box next to her and hands her the tumbler it’s warm and smells good “it’s coffee, don’t worry I added way too much sugar for you and the other thing is a surprise you said you don’t eat a lot on missions so I made it for you it’s a bit of an experiment so tell me if it’s bad” she’s grinning ear to ear and stands up from her weapon bench and hugs him “you are the best and I’m sure it’ll be great” she gives him a kiss on the cheek she’s been slowly trying to work her way up to kissing him on the lips but nose and cheek kisses were enough for her he smiles and his cheeks get all rosey  and he hugs her back and says “be careful ok sorry I know you can take care of yourself but just you know“ she squeezes him a little “yeah don’t worry I know  I’ll be careful and when I get back we are so taking a nap mister I’m not that tired” he giggles and looks up at her with a smile  “you won’t hear me complain and uh before you go could I uh kiss you like um on the lips” he says nervously she leans down pressing her forehead to his and smiles she smells his breath it smells like chocolate and coffee she feels her cheeks heat up to match his and says “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now are you sure you want to ” he nods his head wordlessly she takes his hand and gently presses her lips to his its short and maybe a little clumsy but it makes her heart soar when she breaks the kiss Oscars breath shakes slightly  and a little panic starts to fill her did she mess it up did he hate it and then he smiles and it all fades away “that was really nice” he says rubbing her knuckle with his thumb then there’s a knock on the door frame she looks up and weiss and Blake are standing there weiss looks annoyed and Blake is grinning “time to go ruby morning Oscar” wiess says already turning to walk away ruby quickly gathers crescent rose and Oscars gifts and says “bye Oscar I’ll be careful byeee” and dashed out the door behind the others Blake nudges her shoulder “your lucky I made weiss wait  ,god you two are adorable” ruby squeaks “will you stop spying on us”  “we weren’t spying you two dolts left the door open” weiss says annoyed 

 The mission was boring as she thought it was gonna be how normal soldiers couldn’t handle this she’ll never know on the airship ride home she opens   the box Oscar gave to her a note on top says “have a great day and stay safe” she smiles at the note and sticks it in her ammo pocket  it looks like a brownie is some kind and yang leans over and says “where did you get that”

“Oscar made it for me” she says taking it out of the container it smells like a peanut butter protein bar “ooo come on share with me pleassss” yang says putting her hands together “ugh your lucky I’m a good sister” she breaks off a small piece and hands it to yang and takes a bite of her own and it’s amazing it Taste like a peanut butter brownie but somehow better it’s somehow not dried out or crumbly yang seems to have a similar opinion “god if you don’t marry Oscar i will his food is too good”yang says with a laugh  she kicks yang in the leg “I know right I can barely eat the cafeteria food anymore” her and yang chat a bit about food until they finally land Oscar is standing on the landing pad waiting for her she bounce on her heels excitedly despite how tired she is when the door finally opens she rushes out to hug him “how did it go” he asks wrapping his arms around her shoulders “oh it was easy but soooo boring I don’t know why they asked us to do it” she says leaning into him he chuckles “well I’m glad it wasn’t dangerous at least did you like it” he asks sheepishly she puts her head on his “yeees brothers it was great what was it” he unwraps his arms and looks at her “there’s no name for it yet but it’s kinda like a protein brownie was it too grainy or anything what about the after taste” he asks “I didn't even realize it was supposed to be healthy” she puts her hands on his shoulders “Oscar I’m gonna need more of that” he smiles “happy to make some more tonight” he says proudly yang walks past and ruffles his hair “make sure to make enough for me too kiddo” and walks off “how about that nap ruby my teams still on mission so we should have some time” he says taking her hand “yes please” 

They walk back to team alpns dorm room after ruby changes into something more casual Oscar was already wearing his normal clothing he sits on his bed and smiles “I’m gonna get to have two naps today” she sits down next to him and throws her arm around him "you and your team  sure like your naps huh" he smiles as they lie back on his bed "honestly who doesn't like naps I never use to be a huge cuddler but it’s nice to have someone close to you, you know” they lie back Oscar resting his head on rubies shoulder “well I do  wish my team took naps together sometimes yang is a big cuddler too but Weiss  doesn’t like being warm and Blake can’t sit still even so less than you” he snorts as he takes her hand running his thumbs along her knuckles  “well I’m sure the others wouldn’t mind you joining our naps if have to ask but i'll warn you ren sits up in his sleep  Jaune snores and i talk in my sleep” she raises an eyebrow “you didn't last time” she says “that's cause we were smoking  but if i take a nap or if im really tired you can actually talk and I'll talk back” she grins “well what do you talk about”  he rests his head on her chest “usually about my aunt or all yall but Nora has told me i say lots of stuff about you if i'm asked” he says his cheeks getting just a tiny bit rosy she grins and plants a kiss on his nose “well i hope i get the chance to ask but i'll probably fall asleep first im super tired” she rolls over and wraps herself around him oscar adjusting to lay on her arm pulling a blanket over them "well if you can get me to talk I'll answer any question just nothing to embarrassing please" he says  “i would like to know what you have to say tho so maybe i'll try to hold out just a bit longer” she says closing her eyes as oscar lets out his relaxed sigh about half of Oscars communication was nonverbal she liked to mentally catalog the things he does when he relaxes he lets out a long almost high pitched sigh it makes her happy to hear that and it helps her relax her thoughts starts to get fuzzy as sleep takes her she wakes up a few hours later laying on her back oscar laying on top of her them both having wrapped around each other she hears quiet murmurs  coming from him to quiet to understand "Oscar are you still asleep" she whispers no response "Oscar are you comfy" he nods his head "of course I'm comfy I'm cuddling with ruby" she snickers he was definitely still asleep "who's the coolest person you know" she she's "ruby for sure she's so good at fighting and everyone trusts her I wish I was more like her" she runs her hand through his hair "how do you feel about ruby " she asked "I'm in love with her she makes me feel strong and weak at the same time when she's with me I feel like I'm safe and that we could do anything together i want to be with her forever" she's crying now "oh shit I didn't expect him to be that honest" she thinks as tears run down her face "I love you too Oscar"     she kisses the top of his head “you know i never used to want like romantic stuff and all the fluffy garbage i just wanted to be a huntress and fight grim stuff like that but you  make me want that stuff i wanna take you on dates and like hold your hand and stuff there are a bunch of things i wanna do like” she pauses resting her head on his “i forgot you were asleep for a second i'm starting to embarrass myself i do love you tho i dont know when your supposed to say that we've only been i guess dating for what 2 and a half weeks my dad always joked that huntsmen relationships move really fast nothing like holy shit we might die to move a relationship forward right but you make me feel like i don't know amazing and I love being with you you make all my worries disappear even if it's only for a little bit and i'm rambling and your not talking back” oscar lifts his head “its cause im awake and i love it when you ramble” she feels her face light on fire “w-what when did you wake up” he hums happily “around we might die  i think it was nice that stuff you said you can ramble longer if you want what that new gun you saw in that magazine” she smiles “it's a roller delayed blowback sniper rifle its a smaller caliber than crescent rose but it has a longer effective range because of the way the bore is shaped i prefer bolt actions to semi automatics for a long range rifle semi autos have there merits and stuff it's a lot lighter than crescent rose as well on account of it not also being a giant scythe you know i was thinking about carrying a pistol too crescent rose is great but shes heavy and she's also really hard to conceal  even when shes folded speaking of i need to clean her gears a bunch of dust got in them today you said you wanted to learn weapon maintenance i could teach you today if you want” “sure i can learn there's a lot of things oz knows but it's like a big library without a librarian its all jumbled up” she scratches the back of his neck “well i do not understand the dewey decimal system but i'm happy to help” they both giggle at her joke ruby keeps rambling until the rest of team alpn return 

Oscar is walking ruby back to her dorm they come to her door and they turn to face each other and oscar rubs his hands together “so ruby uh I got permission with ironwood to leave school grounds as long as someone's with me so I was wondering if you’d like to maybe go out like on a date” she smiles and puts her arms around his shoulders “sounds amazing sweetie I’m free this weekend where do you want to go” he blushes and says “well I actually have something in mind but I wanna keep it a surprise if that’s ok” she kisses him on the cheek “of course casual clothes or should i dress nice” he shakes his head “i mean it's really up to you but were not going somewhere fancy just a place I think you'll like" she smiles and kisses his nose and he leans up a little so there lips are level "can i kiss you again" he asks just above a whisper her pressing her lips gently against his is her answer they  hold the kiss for a few moments Oscars hands drifting to ruby's waist when they separate  she says "i think we're getting pretty good at that" Oscar smiles avoiding her eyes "yeah um It's certainly enjoyable" they break the hug "I'll see you in the morning I'll make that stuff you like ok" he says "yes awesome you're the best Oscar good night" she says as she slips into her from her teammates giving her knowing smirks 

[twokinkybeans]

Touch Me, Please [Starker Fic] Pt.3

Summary: Tony Stark has never told anyone that he’s still a virgin. He doesn’t want to sleep with people who only want him because of his outward persona. So instead, he hires an escort. Things get a little more heated than either of them had expected. Tags/Warnings: Escort!Peter, Virgin!Tony, nff, nsfw, sexual tension, teasing, Peter is 22, Tony is 53, oral sex, 69. Taglist: @starkerswonderland @staticwhispersinthedark @starkerprince @parkers-stark​ @bluestarker (let me know if you want to be added!)

Notes: I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S BEEN 2 MONTHS SINCE I POSTED FOR THIS I'M SO SORRY ABOUT THE WAIT Y'ALL!!! I come bearing good news though! This was supposed to have three parts, but the plot started living its own life and now we're definitely having a fourth part as well ehehehe. Hope y'all enjoy! -Kim

Read the fic here on AO3

Or click here to find the previous chapters: Chapter 1 Chapter 2

-

Peter knows he’s fucked. Absolutely, terribly, fucked.

And to be honest… Even that’s an understatement.

Peter clutches his coat tighter and fastens his pace. He’s snuck out of the enormous labyrinth that’s Tony’s home, and is now on his way to the bureau’s HQ. It’s still early in the morning, a little over 7 am, and Peter hopes to catch one of his managers before they start their meeting.

Peter made a grave mistake, and all he can do is spill it all out and pray that he can keep his job. He’s had unsafe sex with a customer. If there’s one thing that he should pay close attention to, it’s that. He never made a mistake like this before. However, with Tony, he completely threw his cool and composed sugar baby persona out the door; his mind lost to the wealthy man he only met last night. Tony may claim to be a virgin, which according to his eager yet sloppy techniques isn’t too hard to believe, but still. Peter shouldn’t have risked it.

He eyes the building in front of him and hesitates. He could just get a test done without his bosses knowing; play sick until he gets the results. But if they were to find out… He’d lose his job for sure. And contrary to popular belief, he’s not in the industry just for the money. He likes his career. 

In good faith, Peter steps forward and presses the doorbell.

-

Tony wakes up when a golden glow casts over his body. He smiles groggily. In his haze last night, he must’ve forgotten to close the curtains. He sighs and turns around, grabbing the sheets to tug them up a little higher. Slowly, the surroundings are getting to him. The distant sound of traffic rushing through the busy streets of NYC. The buzz of the elevator as it sweeps past his floor...

...and the complete lack of another human’s breath.

Tony swallows and his eyes flutter open. A harsh sting rips through his chest when he sees his bed is indeed empty.  “Peter?” He calls out, half-heartedly expecting an answer but not at all surprised when it stays dead silent.

-

It’s safe to say that the following days, Tony is in such a sour mood that his employees nearly cringe each time he walks across the room. He should’ve never hired an escort to have his first-ever sexual encounter with. The plan was destined to fail from the get-go, and it had. 

“Tony?”

Tony turns around to find Pepper standing in the doorway of his private office. Pepper has been his personal assistant for years now, and he is aware that he wouldn’t survive a single day without her skills in his company. She’s seen his worst more often than not - and she doesn’t deserve to be the one to take his anger - but Tony can’t help but glare. “What?” “Jeez, they were right. You’re a fucking asshole today.” Pepper says calmly and raises her eyebrows as she closes the door behind her. Tony can feel some of the tension fade from his posture and he casts his eyes down.

“What happened?” She proceeds to ask. Tony shrugs. How could he tell her? “I did something stupid.” “I figured as much.” The PA places a stack of files onto his desk and sits down in the chair opposite of him. “Personal troubles, or Stark Industries-related?” “Personal.” “Ah, good. That’s one less of a worry.”

Tony glares again, but this time it’s more playful. Pepper smirks. “Gotcha,” she hums, seemingly pleased with herself. “Now, tell me what happened.” “I can’t.” “I’m sure you can, it’s-” “It’s too embarrassing, Pep. Please, I gotta deal with this by myself.” Pepper raises her eyebrow at his words and leans onto the wooden surface.  “Then deal with it before you drag Stark Industries into whatever it is.” She shoves the stack of paper forward and smiles faintly. “After you deal with these, of course.”

“Of course.”

-

It’s late in the evening, and Tony swirls the whiskey around in his glass. He finished the work right before dinnertime and decided to take the rest of the night off.

Deal with it.

Tony snorts. How could he? Peter left. It’s plain and simple that the kid didn’t want to stay. His pretty, sweet words had been nothing but lies and deception, and Tony feels like a goddamn fool for falling for the act. Peter is an escort. Pleasing people, telling them what they want to hear, it’s his job. Tony can’t blame him. He only blames himself.

Yet, it doesn’t keep him from grabbing his phone and navigating towards the escort website. He sniffs once, finding his way to the catalog. It should be easy to find Peter. Right? Tony scrolls down the list and frowns when he hits the bottom of the page. Mmh. He scrolls back up and sits a little more upright when he can’t seem to find Peter’s picture. He taps the search bar and types in his name.

No results found.

In a wave of panic, Tony types out the bureau’s number to contact them and waits anxiously. He has no intention of bothering Peter ever again, but now that it seems he vanished, it makes him feel strangely panicked. As if every link he had to the boy is simply gone. As if nothing ever happened.

Except something did happen.

“Good evening, this is Eva. How may I help you?” “Uhmm- Hi. It’s Mr. Stark. I’m, eh, I’m looking to book Peter again? He was here last night?” “Oh, I’m terribly sorry to inform you, sir, but I’m afraid Peter is temporarily unavailable. I could put you on the waiting list for when he returns?” “Please.”

And like a stupid idiot, he disconnects straight after. He sniffs and lowers his phone. He wonders if he just made another mistake.

-

Peter sucks at his teeth, his foot restlessly tapping onto the floor. He looks at his scheduled bookings and stares at the one empty spot. There’s only one client left to call, but Peter doesn’t know if he should. After a long tirade, and thankfully, a negative STD test, he’s back in the game and good to go. But, if he couldn’t keep himself together last time… He’s not sure if it’d be professional to go back to Tony.

Sweet, innocent, handsome Tony.

“Hey,” Harley pokes his head past Peter’s shoulder and grins. “I see you’re free tonight. My pal Dave is throwing a party at the Frizzles. Wanna come?” Peter rolls his eyes at his coworker and grins. “And get Dave to hopelessly flirt with me again? No, thank you.” “Oh, come on!” Harley throws his hands into the air in desperation. “Dave is your type!” “He’s not,” Peter grumbles, nearly shuddering at the idea. “Good fella, but no, not for me. Y’know I’m into rich old classy dudes. Heck, so are you!” “Hey, no need to attack me.” Harley lowers his bum on the edge of Peter’s desk and cocks his head. “You barely ever have a night off. Don’t you wanna have some fun? I’ll try and keep Dave off your back.” “Well…” Peter sighs and stares back at the empty spot in his schedule.

“I actually have a client.” “What do you mean?” “It’s the last free spot, and I have one more client to secure a booking with me. I just…” Harley frowns, his face displaying a sudden seriousness. “Peter, did this client hurt you?” “What? No!” “Then why are you looking all gloomy at the mere thought of that one client? Is he- Did he force you to not use protection? Peter, we can have him blacklisted, and-” “It’s not at all like that, please Harls, I promise.” “Then tell me why the fuck you’re so strange about it. You’re never strange around clients. Fuck ‘em, get them hooked for more and tadaa, that’s a healthy clientele, it’s how you taught me.”

Peter groans out loud in frustration and shoves his chair back a little, trying to distance himself from the scribbled down phone number at his desk. “I like him!” “What?” “I… I like him. Dammit. He’s really fucking different than the rest of them. I’ve only slept with him once, but he’s got me hooked, not the other way around.” “Then why’d he call us again? Eva told me he sounded pretty nervous.”

Peter’s face loses all color when Harley’s words crash down on him, crumbling the reality he’d build around himself. “No, no Harley, don’t enable me on this one. It’s bad luck. I shouldn’t do it.” Peter scrunches his nose. “Tell Dave I’ll be at the party.”

Harley simply grins, his eyes glimmering mischievously as if there’s something only he knows and Peter doesn’t. “Sure thing.”

-

It’s been two weeks since the damned party. Peter doesn’t feel any better about himself. As expected, Dave had followed him around all evening. Harley, traitor he is, was nowhere to be found. In the end, Peter couldn’t take it anymore, and he straight up told Dave he wasn’t interested. Thank god the lad took it pretty well, but it doesn’t make Peter feel any less shitty about it.

Peter really should just focus on his job and put his mind away from both Dave and Tony. It’s for the best. He sighs and stares at the next appointment on his list. The name is hidden, a feature they have for clients who are high in on their privacy. Peter sighs and grabs his car keys to go to the appointment. 

-

Tony’s tapping his foot anxiously while he tries not to stare at the elevator. It’s needless to say he’s not doing a very good job at doing so. Peter’s going to be here again. Oh, God. Tony can’t shake the feeling that maybe he shouldn’t have accepted the booking when Peter’s coworker called him.

[ashestoashesjc]

A Necromancer & His Zombie Boyfriend At The Farmers’ Market

Short Story 1/(2)/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10

From the gun gray expanse of the asphalt parking lot, Ulrick and Sett looked on to a dozen rows of eggshell canopies, the vibrant, succulent wares therein contained, and a no-less-vibrant throng of bright, friendly faces, with all the burbling anticipation of a Roman century preparing to march into hopeless battle. 

“Grrrurrr. <We don’t have to do this, you know,>” said Sett, giving Ulrick his approximation of a gentle slap on the back, but one that still managed to rob him of his balance. “ GgrrrRrrr. <I don’t mind going to supermarkets on the other side of town fifteen minutes before they close to avoid people.> Rrrrr. <It’s romantic.>”

Sett’s taut, sparse skin didn’t allow him the greatest range of expressive nuance, but Ulrick suspected it was less romantic than he was letting on. 

“No, this is happening,” Ulrick said, regaining his stance and casually brushing off his shorts. “I mean, this farmers’ market is still on the other side of town, but it’s daytime. Baby steps.” He took Sett’s hands in his own and brought them to his lips before his lowering them again. 

“Just... y’know...” he started. “Keep a low profile.” 

Sett nodded, adjusted the baby blue bandanna wrapped around his neck until it covered everything but his eyes, pulled his turtleneck’s sleeves to his wrists, and then shot Ulrick a thumbs up. 

Their first step past the threshold hit them like a wave with the overwhelming impression that they were shopping well outside their tax bracket. Surprisingly, weird, macabre magicians and the undead dudes they make out with weren’t in high demand for gainful employment opportunities. 

Hemp totes, straw hats with wide, floppy brims, oxford button-downs, and ethereal sundresses surrounded them on every side, like they’d stumbled onto the photo shoot for a summer catalog and would be promptly escorted out. Ulrick almost wished they would escort him out. He felt out of place, and not just because buying more than two cucumbers could bankrupt them. What if they were discovered? 

This had admittedly been a constant concern of Ulrick’s when venturing out into public with Sett, and the background of judgmental yuppies couldn’t help. But this was important. 

He felt a tap on his shoulder and halted his thought train to look up and see the vaguely worried scrunch of Sett’s eyebrows. “You alright?” Sett signed. 

Ulrick smiled and tucked his arm around Sett’s. “Peachy,” he said. “Now, let’s get to window shopping.”

“Yeah,” Sett signed, alongside a low, hoarse chuckle. “We can’t afford any of this.”  

The two weaved their way through row after row of white-capped stalls, packed high with produce so ripe and symmetrically sublime, Eden’s gardener would want tips. Occasionally, Ulrick would gravitate toward a vendor and inspect a pepper or gourd or rutabaga, excitedly detailing their properties and functionalities in the art of necromancy, and how banging they taste in stew. Sett, past the “eating” stage of his nonlife, was nonetheless entranced with Ulrick’s passion.

But then the first scream came, and they knew it was time to relocate.

There were far more strollers than one might expect in any venue that wasn’t a daycare, and children invariably screamed their faces purple when confronted with Sett, zombie-visage covered or not, so they spent the day bouncing around like pinballs every time they ran into a scream-flipper.

This was, perhaps, more fun than it should have been; made even more fun in their lightning round when Sett would slingshot from stroller to stroller, leaving a banshee shriek of wailing infants in his wake.

Satisfied with the day’s torment, they situated themselves at a stand parallel to the entrance, giving them a clear view of the area with the highest foot traffic.

“What about him?” Ulrick said, pointing to a fellow in a navy blue cardigan, his blond crest of hair frozen in place with holding gel.

“Hmm. Pass. I don’t want to eat the brain that thought that was a good look,” signed Sett.

“Alright, what about her?” Ulrick asked. She had long brunette hair, a pair of dirt-caked overalls, and a carrot-filled wicker basket held to one hip.

“Pass,” Sett signed.

“What? Why?” said Ulrick.

“She looks like she enjoys gardening. I hate gardening.”

“Jeez, you’re a picky eater. Uh...” Ulrick purveyed the area. “How about her?” He gestured to a well-dressed woman standing at a stall and violently shaking cantaloupes, with two toddlers standing nearby on a leash.

Sett used his hand as a visor to get a better look. “Oh, snack,” he signed. “Someone’s gotta free those kids.”

Ulrick stopped giggling long enough to search for another person, pausing at a muscular man in a gray, fitted tee, with his hair thrown into a messy bun. “Okay, him. What about him?”

“Meh. Pass,” Sett signed, seeming to barely acknowledge the farmers’ market Adonis.

“Oh, come on. Really? You’re gonna pass on that?”

“Eh, just not my type, really.”

“Not your type!” Ulrick repeated. “I’ve seen you eat literal roadkill!”

“And yet you still kiss me. So, who’s the weird one here?”

“It’s still you, my guy.”

Sett scoffed. “If you like him so much, why don’t you eat him?” he signed.

His disbelief teetered from amusement to annoyance.

"I would totally eat him!" Ulrick shouted, a bit more intensely than he'd expected. 

Without Ulrick noticing, the farmers' market had gone ghost town quiet. His eyes flitted around to all of the bemused faces, the manbun he’d been hypothetically sautéing included, and then quickly to Sett for moral support, but found him hunched over a stall, studiously comparing the firmness of two tomatoes. "Uh..." Ulrick sputtered to a disconcerted, now mumbling smattering of onlookers. "You know, like... in a sex way?" After a moment, the ambiance shifted with a chorus of 'ah's and a lone 'still gross.' Farmers' market commotion shortly resumed as if the topic of cannibalism had never been on the forum floor. He had to regroup before his questioning glare could have its intended withering effect. Sett simply shrugged and signed, "You told me to keep a low profile." Ulrick paused and then tried in vain not to snicker. "Oh, drop dead," he said, rolling his eyes.

[lady-divine-writes]

Feelings Stick

Summary: Crowley deals with his feelings for Aziraphale by writing them down in a journal, intending on keeping them a secret for as long as he can.

The journal, however, has other plans. (1110 words)

Read on AO3.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Crowley mutters, tearing through his flat, rifling through drawers and underneath sofa cushions, searching … searching …

When he comes up emptyhanded after a third full sweep, the swearing starts.

“Shit, shit, shit! Why me!? Why now!?”

He flings himself down on the sofa, hopping up onto his feet again in pain when his back hits the metal springs hiding within the cushion-less frame.

“Come on, come on, come on,” he growls, pulling hair out of his head as he attempts to remember where he last saw it. He has his suspicions. And if he’s correct, everything could go from Heaven to Hell in a handbasket in a less than …

Bzzz-bzzz. Bzzz-bzzz.

Crowley stares at the end table, at his phone vibrating its way across the glass top, the name Aziraphale displayed across the screen, white letters laid over an image of orange flame.

… no time flat.

“Shit!”

Crowley debates letting the call go to voicemail. It would be the first call from Aziraphale that he purposefully let go to voicemail ever.

He doesn’t want to do that.

Besides, he’d be a coward if he did.

Crowley hasn’t done anything wrong. Everything he wrote in his journal? 100% true. It’s the culmination of every confession Crowley ever held back, the words he didn’t say when he had the chance. When they would have mattered, could have changed things.

They would have come to light sooner or later.

He was hoping for later, of course. Not necessarily this particular Wednesday afternoon.

On the other hand, it is a nice sunny spring day outside - one of the first rare warm days they see in London this early in the year.

A perfect time to face the music.

He scoops the phone off the table before the last ring and answers the call. “Yel-lo.”

“Crowley?” Does Aziraphale sound anxious? Or is it just him?

“Hey, angel,” Crowley says, cool to counter Aziraphale’s nerves. “What can I do you for?”

“Oh, nothing really. I just … I have a question I’d like to ask you. If you don’t mind.”

“Yeah?” Crowley sighs. He knows. He just … he knows. “What is it?”

“I think …” Aziraphale swallows so hard, Crowley hears it over the line “… did you … the last time you were by the shop … did you leave … a journal? With a … with a black leather cover?”

Crowley slaps a hand to his forehead and scrubs it down his face. Shit! Mother … fucking …

Book girl!

This is all her fault!

Crowley didn’t want to start a journal. Writing his deepest thoughts and desires in a diary like a love-sick teenager?

That wasn’t him.

She’d mentioned it as a lark, as in, “What an amazing life you must have led! All the things you’ve seen! You should write them down! Maybe get them published! Even if no one believes a word of it, it could be seen as an incredible work of fiction!”

Crowley doesn’t know how it happened, when in the conversation he mentioned it. Was it after his sixth vodka shooter or his third bottle of whiskey? But before he knew it, he was a melancholy mess, droning on and on about how not a single thing he’s done in 6000 years would compare to his greatest adventure – falling in love with an angel.

For her part, book girl listened to every pathetic word, and in the end, she still felt the journal a good idea. She thought it might help him work through his feelings for Aziraphale.

How they don’t seem to be reciprocated, even after all the time they’ve spent together and everything they’ve been through.

If Crowley had a journal, he could put those thoughts in a place where he could catalog them, re-read them, sort through them rationally. Then, in the end, when he was ready, he might simply turn it over to Aziraphale, let him read it, and they could go on from there.

Or he could set it on fire and move on with his life. Whichever suited him best.

She did warn him though that things like journals tend to take on lives of their own, and if he’s not careful, it might choose to reveal itself in its own time, not his.

It seems as though that’s what it may have done, seeing as his last trip to visit Aziraphale marked the first time ever he’d taken his journal out of his flat, and when he left Aziraphale’s bookshop, he was completely sober.

So leaving it wasn’t a drunken mistake.

“Why do you think it’s mine?” Crowley asks, giving himself time to think.

“I … I don’t,” Aziraphale stutters, lying. “I … I saw the handwriting. I thought it looked familiar.”

“I take it you’ve read it then?”

“N-no.” Another lie. Usually they’re not so easy to spot. Aziraphale is a decent liar … about things he doesn’t care too much about.

“Angel …”

“I’m … I’m sorry! I didn’t recognize it! I’ve never seen it before! I didn’t read it read it if that’s any consolation. Thumbed through it to see where it belonged in my shop. I didn’t realize till …”

“It’s all right,” Crowley interrupts in the interest of putting poor Aziraphale out of his misery. “Not your fault.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah. No problem.”

Then, silence.

Crowley figures he should go over there and pick the damned thing up but he doesn’t want to. Cat’s out of the bag. Let Aziraphale read it, cover to cover, and come to his own conclusions about where Crowley fits in his life, if there’s a place for him outside the one he occupies now. That elusive something more Crowley has been hoping for.

But maybe that’s not them. Maybe it isn’t meant to be after all.

“Crowley?”

“Yes, angel?”

“Did you … did you mean what you wrote?”

“About?”

“A-about being in love with me?” Aziraphale asks softly. “About loving me since the day we met? Dreaming about … about kissing me?”

And even though Aziraphale’s tone is difficult to decipher over the phone, even though he could very well be preparing to let Crowley down or worse, Crowley can’t help smiling hearing those words come out of Aziraphale’s mouth, imagining every break a pause he’s using to catch his breath. “Every word.”

“Oh …” Aziraphale hiccups “… my dear boy!”

“Yes?”

“Come back here! Come back here right away!”

“What? Why?” Crowley asks, the agitation in Aziraphale’s voice concerning. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Aziraphale says, the word brightened by a giddy laugh. “Come back here … and kiss me then!”

[ineffably-effable]

good omens fic recommendations

If you’re looking for coherent reviews you’ll be disappointed, but if you want a list of quality recommendations - with excerpts & some vague ramblings as to what the reader should be in the mood for - enjoy!

29 recommendations underneath the cut.

(17k) Something We Were Withholding Made Us Weak by triedunture 

Crowley and Aziraphale learn to move in tandem.

Mood: beautiful slow burn, misunderstandings, heartache that would be solved if someone taught these besotted idiots to communicate.

Paradox: Crowley has never risen from his seat and gone to stand behind someone at a counter, never put his arms around their middle and pulled them tight against him. Has never apologized with a touch, with a closeness, with the thin line of his body. So why does it occur to him that he might do that now? Might press up against Aziraphale from behind and rest his forehead on Aziraphale’s nape and ask silently to be forgiven. As if it’s the most natural thing in the world when he knows, intimately knows that it’s not.

(51k) how deep the sand by Handful_of_Silence

After the Apocalypse, and with characteristic slowness, both Crowley and Aziraphale think there might be something they need to sit down and talk about.

And then Aziraphale disappears.

Mood: tragic twist of fate, separation, hurt/comfort, guilt & devotion.

He thinks about the picnic they’d have had. He’d have pulled the top down from the Bentley and let the wind tussle his hair, the weather of a glorious August now gone warming his skin. They would have chatted, sitting carefully on a tartan blanket, and they’d have made their own plans.

They might have even found the right time to talk properly. Honestly. About everything that’s been, about the possibilities that could be now that everything’s different.

About maybe not going back to London. Going back to their Jobs.

About leaving it all behind, together.

The words Crowley didn’t say are clogging up his throat.

(14k) Made Flesh by rfsmiley / @redfacesmiley

AU in which Crowley is two entities, and Aziraphale isn’t sure how he feels about either of them.

Mood: oblivious idiots, daemon!fic-if-you-squint, pining & tamed desire.

Eleven years pass, attended by another marked change; the creature cannot bear to be out of the same room as Aziraphale. The angel, isolated and frayed as he is by the fear of the coming war, has no problems with this development – he needs the company – although sometimes he looks into the yellow eyes and feels the spear of a nameless sorrow. If it comes to it, Heaven will win, of course; the certainty, however, is bitter. He tries not to think about what will happen to Crowley, or to this small being that runs at his heels as he moves, gripped by a contagious agitation.

(8k) Ad Astra by drawlight / @drawlight

Some things can only be said in the dark.

Mood: beautiful prose, longing, ruthless inner-voices & insecurities.

Aziraphale swallows. His eyes hold Crowley’s. Crowley stands very still, wretched. Terrified. Watching Aziraphale’s very wide eyes, the open of the mouth. There is a softness in Aziraphale’s look, in the swallow of his throat. It could be? (It might not be.) He wants to scream it; he wants to say nothing at all. Let me stay in this bit of maybe. Maybe is not no, maybe means perhaps, someday. Maybe means you might feel the same. (You might not.)

(13.3k) Alegría by drawlight / @drawlight

After the End That Wasn’t, Heaven and Hell are leaving them alone. Entirely alone. (This is a story with nothing of miracles.)

Mood: beautiful prose, longing, ruthless inner-voices & insecurities + domesticity

(Yes, I know the mood is almost the same as above, but honestly this is @drawlight, what were you expecting? Read it if you want a Crowley that will absolutely wreck you & leave you heart-broken.)

Aziraphale is a touch-strong man. He touches everything (Crowley knows, he always watches). Aziraphale loves and he likes to love through his skin. His fingers on a particularly fine leather binding, dipping into the embossed author, the tooled name of the title. His hands breaking apart a loaf of Italian sourdough, fingers coming away with residual flour. Dipping his hands into sacks of grain, rubbing a fine weave of silk through. He touches Crowley too, in his usual and gentle way. The touch on the arm to still Crowley’s whiplash self, to make a point during an argument. Aziraphale who thinks nothing of oh, my dear, you’ve got an eyelash just there, let me get it for you. Crowley has a good memory. He catalogs them all, cross-examines them. Six-thousand years of maybes and what-ifs and what was thats ? But Aziraphale is just as easy with his touches on glass bottles while pulling out his favorite vintages. He touches his favorite fountain pen far more often than he reaches for Crowley. No, in context, it means nothing. It’s just Aziraphale as usual. Don’t look too closely, it doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t.

(13k) small infinities and all that by JustStandingHere / @billypotts

Crowley and Aziraphale are turned human. This is the aftermath.

Mood: slow burn, domesticity, best friends falling in love & all the beautiful awkwardness that entails.

And there it is, isn’t it? Something they’ve known for a long time, but haven’t named it. Have been too scared to name it. Something that speaks in their bones, in the space between them.

(12k) the deft, sweet gesture of your hand by deadgreeks / @mortuarybees

Crowley arrives injured at Aziraphale’s door. He takes care of him, reads him an awful lot of Mary Oliver, and knits elaborate metaphors for his insecurities (literally).

Mood: beautiful writing, mixed signals, feeling unworthy of the millenia-long object of your affections, unable to create gifts that are good enough for the people you love and being in love with a complete idiot.

Aziraphale has tended to the sick and injured during periods of plague and war many times throughout his long life, and he tries to adopt the same kind-but-impersonal detachment as he carefully washes Crowley. It is slightly harder, Crowley being the sole object of six thousand years of repressed desire, but he’s also Aziraphale’s closest friend, and a person besides, so he does him the courtesy of not ogling his bare legs or torso as he goes.

(9.3k) Slow by write_away / @theirdarkreturning

Aziraphale and Crowley find themselves somehow married. Crowley fears going too fast. Aziraphale forges ahead. Neither know how to ask questions of each other.

Mood: Miscommunication, with a hefty side order of pining and the urge to yell at your screen in the vain hopes of getting through to these two idiots.

For Crowley - that was the demon’s name, and it’s best to memorize it quickly, before he changes it yet again - knew that the angel would love him if he just asked, and Aziraphale - the angel, though there’s no rush with him, there never really is - knew that the demon would take him in with open arms if he just asked. It’s just that neither of them were good at asking things of one another.

(14.7) Lead me to the banquet hall by obstinatrix, wishwellingtons

Crowley loves taking Aziraphale out to eat almost as much as Aziraphale loves eating, but it’s always a bit of a one-sided affair. Aziraphale has never understood why. Crowley planned on keeping it that way, but best laid plans…

Mood: wonderful footnotes, pining, creating a shrine to the object of your longing and then submitting to the mortifying ordeal of them finding it.

The thing about Aziraphale is quite simply this: Crowley can never have enough of him. God, Satan, everyone knows he’s tried. Crowley has spent centuries glutting himself on the sight of him only to be empty again days later, wondering whether it’s too soon to show his face in the bookshop. Aziraphale drifts from brasserie to bar in his quest to indulge in the best of human culinary expertise; Crowley follows after, because he knows Aziraphale will be there. It isn’t enough, but it’s something, and the only thing Crowley can ever expect.

(14.2k) all i need, darling, is a life in your shape       by deadgreeks / @mortuarybees

After everything, Aziraphale and Crowley, by unspoken agreement, begin sharing their lives.

Mood: domesticity with pining, chosen family, acts of love, boyfriend sweaters & idiots in love.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes indulgently, passing out the rest of the gifts and sneaking little glances at Crowley as he struggled with the box. He’d worked so hard on it, searched all the best yarn shops in London for the perfect skeins. He even had to sit on hold for hours with the manufacturer of the yarn he chose because he needed another skein from the same dye-lot, knowing that Crowley would want only the best, and he’d notice even a minor inconsistency in the coloring.

(27k) Long Is The Way, And Hard by Kate_Lear

A story of Crowley’s thoughts about Aziraphale, from the Beginning to the present day.

And also of temptation, and want, and whether - for a Fallen Angel - redemption is possible after all.

Mood: slow burn, denial, temptation, jealousy, lust to love, character growth.

Aziraphale hasn’t shared his bed with anyone. He can’t have done, because if he has then Crowley is going to hunt down that mortal – in this world or the next – and enact something creatively and comprehensively bloody upon them. Possibly involving methods from the Spanish Inquisition, that have scabbed over in Crowley’s memory and that he shies away from picking at.

(25.7k) your weekend lover by witching

Mood: miscommunication, mutual pining, ineffable idiots who are on the same page but reading a different damn book

It was purely physical, they had agreed on that from the beginning. Aziraphale couldn’t quite remember why he had agreed to that, but he suspected it had something to do with not ruining their friendship, or some such nonsense. At any rate, that was the deal. The new Arrangement. Purely physical.

(16k) I’ve Got You To Help Me Forgive by Kate Andrews (k8andrewz)

Pt1: Crowley deals, more or less, with the Fall. Also, Crowley has feelings. The angel doesn’t help with that. Also, sunny rocks are very nice.

Pt2: In which tea is made, a story is shared, and a leap of faith is taken.

Mood: Lust, first times, innocence, ineffable sex, memory wipes, Aziraphale showing initiative and being a bit of a bastard, overwhelmed Crowley, Gabriel is a total dick. Fair warning this isn’t PWP, it has loads of plot and feelings too and fantastic characterizations.

The air in Crowley’s lungs took leave of him all at once. Memories he hadn’t given a good look at in ages resurfaced. Memories he’d quite ably buried, thank you very much and he sat up abruptly, leaning forward and propping his elbows on his knees. He set his sunglasses on the table, then pressed his face into his palms and gave it a good scrub. After a sidelong glance at Aziraphale who sat there patiently watching him, he asked, “What am I supposed to do with a question like that, hmm?”

(13.9k) The Lightness of You by Rend_Herring

God should not have built them with such discrepancy, made them need for love, and long for wholeness, then left them to their own devices.

Mood: When you want to mix up your pining & angst with a bit of humour, sex and a praise kink.

The jasmine vine actually tries brushing up against Aziraphale’s cheek and he blushes, says, “Oh, you,” all indulgent and sweet-like.  It leaves a fragrant white blossom behind his ear.

“Thank you,” Aziraphale says sincerely, and Crowley glares openly at the traitors. “That’s very kind of you.” His smile really is a beacon of otherworldly radiance. An orchid blooms on the spot, the epiphyte whore.

(7.2k) summer and his pleasures by witching

absence makes the heart grow fonder, and crowley and aziraphale’s hearts were plenty fond to begin with. a story told through phone calls while they are separated for work-related reasons.

Mood: drunk dialing and dirty talk, idiots in love

Something clicked in Aziraphale’s mind, and he held back a curse word threatening on his tongue. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, he found himself just in that sweet spot of intoxication where he was cognizant enough to recognize that he was doing something he absolutely shouldn’t do, but not quite enough to stop himself. “I would, you know,” he said, full of newfound confidence. “I’d – if you were here, I’d make it… very much worth your while.”

(3.6k) Birds of a Feather by idiopathicsmile

Aziraphale nests. Crowley relearns some crucial facts about angelic courtship rituals.

Mood: Jealousy, lashing out, withdrawal, oblivious idiots slowly learning how to use their words.

Is Crowley jealous of a musty old flat above a used book store? In the millennia he’s spent slowly twisting his own heart around Aziraphale’s little finger, it’s not the weirdest thing he’s been jealous of, to be honest.

(11k) A Touch Like Sunlight    by goodomensblog / @goodomensblog / @just-quintessentially-me

When Aziraphale is threatened by angels who seek justice for Aziraphale’s crimes against Heaven, Crowley comes up with a plan to keep him safe from harm.

Mood: PTSD from witnessing the attempted murder of your husband, it’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you, self-sacrificing idiots & badass idiots protecting eachother.

“Right! Brunch!” Aziraphale says, bouncing up on his toes - as if they hadn’t just been discussing the murder of archangels. “Do you think they have crepes?”

(13.6k) These Things Were Here by MajorEnglishEsquire

Crowley, following times of overwhelming distress, resorted to the snake form as a means of finding comfort and solitude.

Mood: displays of affection, love shown through care-taking, using your ineffable boyfriend as a security blanket.

Nothing like it happened again for years. The pattern, however, was too recognizable to be mistaken when it did reoccur.

When commended for some catastrophe of which he was no part, Crowley became a completely disconsolate mess, but he still actually handled those occasions better than when he was, in fact, party to such disaster.

If he was blamed, but not actually at fault, Aziraphale may find him on the verge of discorporation due to alcohol poisoning, but at least he would say what was wrong. It was worse when he had an assignment he couldn’t breathe a word of. It was worse when he would smile bitterly and leave silently, haunted beyond expression.

(4.6k) let sleeping snakes lie by kythen / @kythen

The world doesn’t end. Crowley falls asleep. And Aziraphale stays by his side, waiting for him to wake up again.

Mood: acts of love, comfort, warmth, home

To some extent, he understands Crowley’s need for sleep. It had been an exhausting decade for the both of them, what with the end of the world business, and it had culminated spontaneously in them cutting off their ties with both Heaven and Hell rather dramatically, which were the only ties that either of them have ever had since the Beginning. Just as Crowley had sauntered from the ranks of Heaven to Hell, he had finally found his way out of Hell and into something that finally felt like freedom.

(6.4k) All The Dreams We Had by ImpishTubist / @impishtubist

This time will be different, Aziraphale thinks. This time, Crowley will remember.

Mood: amnesia, groundhog day - but centered on a single relationship - and with more angst

It takes a year for Crowley to fall for him again, a year until the air raid and the church and the books; a year before Aziraphale finds himself pressed up against a brick wall and exchanging desperate, burning kisses.

Crowley’s forgotten again by morning.

(70k) The Place You Need To Reach by Zetared / @zetablarian 

When Crowley is forcibly recalled to home office, Aziraphale conspires with a denounced saint and strikes a deal with the agents of Hell to get him back.

Mood: sacrifice, loss of self, trauma, love, tenderness and fantasy-novel-esque world & character building

“I have a journey to complete,” Aziraphale reminds the Adversary, primly. “May I begin?”

“In good time, Aziraphael. In good time. Tell me, do you recall the rules correctly?”

Aziraphale grits his teeth at the purposeful use of his forgotten name, but he doesn’t mention it. “Yes, of course. Using no miracles or ethereal influence of any kind, I must walk through the circles of Hell and complete an unknown task in each to earn passage to the next. I must not look behind me, where Crowley will walk. I may speak to Crowley, but he cannot speak back. I will not hear him or see him or feel even a hint of his presence. I will move forward, and, God willing, he will follow me.”

(1.9k) Kissing, Accidentally. by skybound2 / @skybound2

The one where Crowley gives in and kisses Aziraphale while he has him pinned against a wall.

Mood: hilarious footnotes, brilliant Crowley internal monologues and ineffable kissing against a wall.

No. No what actually happens is that when Crowley slams Aziraphale up against a wall in the middle of a hallway at a former-Satanic-hospital-turned-paintball-complex to express to him how very not nice he is, his hindbrain, forebrain and all other portions of his brain, decide that while denial has been a lovely place to reside for the previous six millennia, they are rather due a relocation at this point. And “Oh! Would you look at that! Here’s the oh-so-very soft mouth of an oh-so-very-beautiful angel right in front of us! And all we have to do to get there is to just…lean forward an inch. Less than an inch, in fact! How fantastic!”

(9.3k) Build Our Kingdom by Mackem 

Mood: : ineffable dates, promises kept

“Ready for lunch?” Crowley drops to his knees to start unbuckling the straps on the basket as though this is something they do all the time; as though he hasn’t just effortlessly catapulted Aziraphale back in time almost fifty years.

“You remembered,” Aziraphale breathes as wonder courses through him. He mentioned something once during an awkward moment, half a century ago, and now here kneels a demon atop a picnic blanket.

“Hmm?” Crowley barely shoots him a sidelong glance as he concentrates on opening the basket.

Aziraphale’s eyes do not move from him. “You remembered,” he repeats, no less stunned. “Crowley, you really didn’t have to.”

Crowley’s hands still. Eventually, his eyes still on the basket, he murmurs, “Well, we did The Ritz, didn’t we?”

(9k) On The Matter Of Touch by Somedrunkpirate

For two ineffable husbands, they don’t really touch each other much. Here is a story on why that might be.

Mood: touch-starved idiots in love, heart-breaking internal monologues, misunderstandings, miscommunication, protective idiots.

Crowley had decided long ago that curiosity should have been a sin, because it has been the one thing consistently tempting him in his existence. He’s done everything he can think of and more, just so see what it was all about. But this, with Aziraphale, feels more than just an experience he can add to his endless tally

(8.2k) dum memor ipse mei by NeverNooitNiet

There is something, Aziraphale thinks, that is inherently selfish— unangelic, even— about grief. But then of course, the same could be said about love.

Mood: identity angst, calling Aziraphale out on his bullshit

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous ,” Crowley snaps. “Of course I don’t— angel, do you have any idea just how much more straightforward my life would be if only I were able to hate you?”

(5.6k) bent to the very earth by Ark / @et-in-arkadia

Use me, please, Crowley had said, so Aziraphale takes him at his word.

Mood: tenderness & kisses & sex against a wall

Aziraphale kisses him back because that is what makes sense, kissing Crowley, why, the thought crosses his mind often enough—he just never had the sort of momentum that seems to fire up Crowley now. Crowley whose hands are shaking before they ball up as fists on Aziraphale’s lapels, Crowley who keeps kissing him and kissing him like otherwise he’ll drown.

(40k) Lit in the Darkness by ToEdenandBackAgain / @toedenandbackagain​

Mood: Aziraphale and Crowley sleeping together through the ages. Mutual pining.

Aziraphale, despite being nowhere hear as gangly as Crowley, is somehow still all arms and legs when he sleeps. Crowley takes an elbow to the face three times before he wedges the angel between the wall and his body with an angry growl, making sure to trap the flailing limbs tight beneath his own.

Works In progress

this gorgeous ineffable wives snippet by @mia-ugly

Mood: beautiful writing, emotional vulnerability, submitting to the mortifying ordeal of being known,

“Whatever happens tomorrow -“ And something will happen, they won’t walk away from this. They’d never be allowed. “Darling, you should know -”

the bucket list

  by darcylindbergh / @forineffablereasons  / @watsonshoneybee​

If you’re going to go native, you might as well go all the way.

Mood: saying the absolutely wrong thing at the wrong time, reaching your breaking point, miscommunication and heart break.

“You know, we are the way we are,” Aziraphale said slowly, pressing it a little, brushing his wing up against Crowley’s, “but we can also change, Crowley. We have done, over the years. We’ve changed quite a lot, since we first met.”

[pucksnsticksnhockeyboys]

it’s what you deserve - pt. seven

summary: you finally have the chance to make things right, once and for all.

word count: 2.4k

link to the rest of the series

You had never seen Bee so happy as when you had told her that you ended things with Max. And it was odd, you had just broken up with your boyfriend, but you weren't sad. More, hopeful. When you had explained this to Bee, she just smiled widely at you and pulled you in for a bone crushing hug.

You watched the rest of the game with a little more enthusiasm, yelling at the refs for bad calls like you normally would. And instead of following Brett's figure on the ice as he skated around with guilt evident on your face, you looked determined. Determined to make things right, to do what would make you happy for the first time in months. Though, you still couldn't take your eyes off of him.

And so, you made a plan.

Work the next day had been absolute torture, the only respite you got was when you were able to check your phone every once in a while to see if Adam had texted you. He was vital to your plan, and once you had gotten the message that everything was all set on his end of things, you were able to breath a bit easier.

You wanted to text Brett and tell him that he had been right. That Max didn't deserve you and that you figured out how you should be treated. You thought that since he played a direct role in you ending things with your toxic ex, he had a right to know what happened.

But that was all too much to say over the phone. You wanted to be able to see his reaction and not just some typed out response. You wanted to be able to hold him tight as you told him you returned all the feelings he confessed to having just two days prior, and that just wasn't a possibility over a FaceTime call.

You raced back to the apartment after work and found Bee already ready to go, telling you she had picked out your outfit for the night. You simply rolled your eyes with a grin, brushing past her and into your room to find out that she had, in fact, laid out an outfit for you on your bed like she was your mother. The jeans and white sneakers she had picked out were fine, something you probably would have worn regardless, but the top she had was new—and definitely didn't come from your closet.

“Adam had that at his apartment and told me to get it for tonight, just don't ask me why he had it.” Bee explained with a chuckle as you picked up the Rangers jersey, the number twenty-one obvious and Howden scrawled across the back. Your heart raced at the idea of wearing his name, and a broad grin broke out across your face.

“Just remind me to thank him later.” You were grinning widely, shooing her out of the room so you could change. It felt right, wearing his name and number, and it gave you hope that this was going to work out.

It wasn't until you were walking into the Flyers arena did you begin to panic that maybe this was a bad idea. Would he want to see you after the way things had ended? Or would he be too upset that you had chosen Max over him, no matter how briefly, to give you a chance? Would he even want to be with you since you just got out of a relationship?

Your arm was linked through Bee's so you wouldn't lose each other in the crowd, so she felt you slow down the closer you got to the ice. You had already scanned your tickets in, having gotten the ones that Adam left at will call specifically for you and Bee—you really did have to remember to thank him. Between work and the travel time to get to Philly, by the time you arrived at the rink practice was over and you wouldn't actually get to talk to any of the boys until after the game.

“Get out of your head, okay? It'll be fine.” You tried to listen to Bee's words, you really did, but it was borderline impossible for you to not think about the multitude of ways this could blow up in your face.

When the players came onto the ice for puck drop you couldn't tear your gaze away from Brett—nothing new, honestly. You were a few rows off the ice, so you didn't blame him for not spotting you no matter how much you stared at him.

As the game progressed, you honestly couldn't be bothered to remember who scored what and how. Bee elbowed you every time someone scored, but your attention was fully on the brunette you held your heart. He hadn't smiled once the entire time he had been on the ice, and that was what cut you deep, thinking that it was your fault he wasn't having fun doing the one thing he loved the most. Guilt crept into your chest and gripped your being as the final seconds ran down on the clock.

The Rangers won, but just barely. Brett had taken a few necessary penalties, but you were glad he hadn't gotten hit like the night before. You weren't sure you could handle seeing that live. You hoped that what you were about to do would snap him out of his funk, and he could get back to playing as good as he had been the past few weeks.

Bee led you down to where Adam had told her to meet him, and you started shifting nervously on your feet. You chatted absentmindedly with Bee, knowing she was only telling you about what your old neighbor had said to her that morning to distract you. She peppered in a few comments to assure you that it would all be fine, and you were thankful for her, because before you even knew it players started filing out of the locker room.

“Please tell me you're here to make up with him.” You jumped in surprise at the deep voice belonging to Chris Kreider, somehow not noticing him approach. He was one of the teammates that had invited you out to dinner with Brett and the rest of the guys a few times, so you knew him decently well. You nodded at him, cheeks flushing at the fact that the older player probably knew what happened between you and Brett. Chris just grinned, pulling you into a one armed hug that caught you a bit off-guard. “The kid's head over heels for you.”

“I just hope he still feels the same, after everything, you know.” You mumbled, finally letting some of your concerns out in the air. Chris just laughed, teaming up against you with Bee who rolled her eyes at you. You were fighting a losing battle against the two of them.

“Trust me, he does.” Chris' words barely had time to register before Bee was leading him away, having spotted Adam walk out trailed by the boy you had been waiting for. They both muttered ‘good luck’ and 'see you later' before they left, but you hadn't really heard them. Your attention was focused solely on Brett, who hadn't seen you yet.

In the time it took him to realize you were there, you cataloged his features. He looked tired, deep bags under his eyes and a heavy slump to his shoulders that didn't come from the hard game. His was tie loose and hair a mess, he didn't even bother to style it after the post-game shower. Everything about the way he looked told you had been struggling with how things had ended the last time he was at your apartment, and that it effected him just as much as it did you. Still, he was just as devastatingly handsome as you remembered.

His head snapped up to look at Adam, who had elbowed him in the side to try and get him to notice you. There were only a few feet separating you from him, and he had yet to even see you. It was only when Ryan Lindgren called out something along the lines of ‘look in front of you, dumbass’ did he finally spot you.

He froze mid-step, not even acknowledging how his sudden stop made Buch bump into his shoulder as he swerved to avoid completely colliding with him. For a second, he just stared at you like he didn't quite believe that you were there, in Philly, wearing his jersey and waiting for him outside the locker room.

But then he snapped out of whatever daze he had been in, and he quickly closed the distance between you and him, pulling you into a hug before you could even blink. It felt so right being in his arms, that you sighed deeply, unsure how long you had been holding in your breath. You were certain you could have stayed right there forever, but the hoots and cheers from the boys around you had you pulling back.

Brett still didn't say anything, instead he threaded his fingers through yours and used your conjoined hands to tug you down a quieter hallway. Even when he stopped moving and decided you were far enough away from prying eyes, he didn't drop your hand—and you'd be fine if he never let go again.

“You're here.” He muttered, eyes roaming over you, as if he was searching for something wrong, waiting for you to come bash his hopes once more.

“I am.” You spoke just as quiet. “I broke up with Max.”

And at that, his smile was absolutely blinding. It was the biggest smile you'd ever seen on him, and you were certain his cheeks had to hurt. The type of smile that had you smiling too, though with Brett, every smile of his had you grinning right along with him.

“You know, I meant what I said about it not having to be me.” His smile faltered a bit, softening to one that held some sadness, despite the fact that he looked at least ten pounds lighter as a result of your confession. “I'm just glad you realized you deserve more than him.”

“Brett.” You took in a breath to steady yourself, wrapping your arms around his neck to stop him from rambling. It effectively shut him up, and his hands came to rest on your waist. You were smiling now, you couldn't help it. You were in the arms of someone who treated you right and wanted the best for you, even if it meant he couldn't have you. “What if I said I wanted it to be you?”

“Please,” he started, his right hand coming up to cup your chin as his face dropped closer to yours. “please tell me that it's me.” And with how close he was to you, you couldn't even begin to formulate a coherent sentence, so you simply nodded.

What happened next was long awaited, having been built up since probably the first moment you had laid eyes on him in that cafe. Brett finally closed the gap between the two of you, his lips pressed against yours with a sweetness and a desperation only matched by you. It was like you both were afraid of what would happen when you pulled away, so it was delayed as long as it could be.

Eventually, you did have to breathe though, and you disconnected your lips first. Brett didn't move back far, forehead resting on yours and nose pressing into your cheek. The scruff of his beard scratch your chin and drew a giggle out of you, one that Brett matched as he pulled you flush against his chest in a tight hug.

“Yeah, I definitely want it to be you.”

The next few weeks with Brett were infinitely better than the months spent with Max. Somehow, even though Brett had a busier schedule, he still found more time to see you than Max ever did and quickly you forgot completely about your ex. You had never smiled and laughed so much as you did when you spent time with Brett—you were certain he was your person and you were his.

“Can I take your order?” The waiter asked, and you shook your head politely. You didn't miss the quick glance he shot to the unoccupied chair across from you, and how he knew you'd been sitting by yourself for ten minutes.

“My boyfriend is on his way, I'll wait for him.” You explained, and the waiter gave you a tight-lipped smile before heading to check on another table. Almost as if on cue, your boyfriend entered the restaurant, looking at you with an apologetic smile as he approached.

“Sorry I'm late, I just got caught up in traffic and I left late because Adam made fun of my shirt and I had to change—” Brett started rambling out apologizes as soon as you were in earshot. He cut himself off as you chuckled, smile telling him that you weren't upset at him.

“Brett, you're five minutes late, and you texted saying you were running behind schedule.” You explained, standing to greet him with a hug and a kiss before you both took your seats again. Except, he stole two more quick kisses before you were able to sit back down.

“Yeah, but I know you usually get to restaurants early, so I try to get there early too.” He pouted, reaching across the table to grab your hand and press a kiss to your palm before threading your fingers together and resting them on the table. You just smiled at him, a look of pure adoration on your face that your boyfriend easily picked up on. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“It's stupid.” You shook your head, ignoring his question and the blush that bloomed on your cheeks. Brett wasn't buying it, and instead raised a brow in silent question. “It's just, I've never had a guy care about me like you do, you know?” And for a moment, he didn't respond. Instead, he just smiled softly at you, looking at you the way you had been looking at him just moments before. And when he did speak, it was barely above a whisper.

“It's what you deserve.”

[sastielsfandom]

Teaching Moments

It's easy to see Sam's frustration increasing as he typed away on his laptop. I still don't understand the device but I know it gives information similar to books.

I waited for Dean to leave the hotel and made sure to stall him so I can talk to Sam alone.

When the moment came I let myself become tangible. "Sam, may I ask you something?"

A bit spooked and frantically searching around as if I had been talking to someone else, Sam realized I am referring to him. After his initial surprise and he began to bounce his leg, strange, he nodded.

"Yeah, is it important?"

I hadn't thought he would question the importance of it. It wasn't. In every aspect possible, this is infinitesimal.

"Well, no. Maybe I should just forget it. You can go back to your research." Sam closed his laptop and shook his head, and put an arm out. I believe that's a way humans halt each other.

"Cas, relax. I asked because I wasn't sure if we needed to call Dean in here. I'm searching for a case, that's it. Nothing is showing up, I have time to spare."

Hesitant to walk forward, what is the norm for this occasion? Is it strange to be across the room or is it acceptable? Will I be told to move? Dean often demands me to move and stay back, Sam never does. He's kinder in the aspect of me learning human traditions and expectations.

"Please don't call Dean. I don't think he would be very helpful and would insult both of us."

While I have no problem being at the end of Dean's mockery, I hate seeing Sam there as well.

Sam's confusion didn't surprise me and nonetheless continued even with my strange request, "Alright, so what's your question?"

"How do you style your hair?"

--------------------------------------------------

Sam had brought us into the motel's bathroom leaving us standing shoulder to shoulder. It's awkward.

"Alright, we should, um start." Sam's offer with the smile, I think it's to ease us? Not entirely sure. Nodding, waiting for further instructions, I now understand why people tap or move in stiff situations.

"Okay, um, so to start I just run my fingers through it until it goes how I want it, like this." Sam pushed his hair around back to where it had been before it got ruined with stress and frustration from his lack of cases. I watched in fascination how it went to its usual place without much pampering.

"We're going to practice with a mirror. For you. Which is why we're in front of one." Sam had explained, I didn't comment on the fact he had already explained that or that I could've guessed that.

I couldn't help but be confused, everyone says Sam has a very complex hair routine, I didn't see any in the midst of this lesson. "Do you use products?"

Sam's face became a mixture of amusement and annoyance, at least those are the expressions I recognized.

"No, as much as everyone swears I do, I simply run my fingers through." Sam gestured to his beautiful hair as a reference. It really can captivate an audience.

"I'm not sure how I want to look." I've done my own research cataloged more than billions of hairstyles from this period to a few periods back, I've come to the conclusion of hatred. I have hatred for hair that doesn't want to comply.

Sam's hands that have been on his hips moved, one stayed in place the other went through his hair again as he nodded, he's in thought. When he stands up tall again I'll pay more attention to his words, they're an indication he came to a conclusion.

"Then just try it until it looks natural." It sounded simple, I knew it was indeed the opposite. It didn't matter, I leaned forwards towards the mirror and ran my fingers through. It didn't have the effect I was going for, maybe I did a good job?

"Like this?" I glanced at Sam's reflection and the smile met with Sam's expression told me he found my actions to be endearing.

"No, unless you want spikes, do you?" I turned away from the mirror and towards Sam, do I want them?

"I don't know." Sam sighed and moved a bit closer, he didn't seem frustrated, at least not with me. It was more like concentration than anything.

"Here, why don't I try something?" Sam sounded determined as he moved closer and inspected my hair better.

"Alright. I trust your judgment, you have beautiful hair." I saw the rise of blood appear on his face and his hesitation to bring his hands into my hair before he loosened up, it told me the compliment embarrassed him. I don't think it was in the way Dean embarrasses him.

I am unaware of when he became level to my face, he wasn't looking at my face though. He was moving my hair around, pushing the back of it down, as well as the sides, however, the front remained pushed up like a wave.

When he finished, he still combed it once more, when his hands became still the silence in the room became louder.

Sam glanced down, locking eyes seemed to be natural as I had just been watching his expressions intently. I liked him touching my hair, and found myself wanting him to move one of his hands to my chin.

Instead, Sam had straightened up and removed his hands with a step away from me. His hands found their way into his pockets as he rocked on his heels back onto his toes, back to stationary. "Okay, so this is how I would style your hair."

"Your hands are very soothing." I wanted to say more but he gave a quick smile and freed a hand to point towards the mirror.

"Um, you can see how it looks now." He clarified I turned towards the mirror and pleasant to see the results. The "spikes" I made on my own disappeared and in place of it was Sam's magnificent work.

"I like it."

"You do?"

"Yes, I do." I looked back at Sam who had most likely been contemplating something in his mind, he never turns off his mind, does he? I felt compelled to tell Sam my recent findings.

"Sam, I have something to tell you-" The motel door opened and slammed closed like my words.

Sam walked out of the bathroom first, looking a bit flushed. If irritation was present on my face there wasn't much I could do. Dean was supposed to be back for thirty more minutes.

"Hey, Sammy- Cas? Before you tell us the bad news, let me get comfortable. Sam, I got your salad." I dropped my arm that had reached out to stop Sam from leaving my side. Luckily, neither brother had noticed my possessive moment.

"Thank you, Dean." Sam's pleasing look almost melted my annoyance until I felt another pair of eyes on me with an expecting look.

The sigh that came out was better than the eye roll I managed to suppress. "I am not here to bear bad news."

The shock on Dean's face is something a lot of creatures would've loved to see. "You're not? Then what the Hell are you here for?" A great hostess he is, isn't he?

"To check on Sam."

It was true in a way, while I did come with a question for Sam, I am often wondering about the wellbeing of the Winchesters.

"Is there something I should know?" That look on Dean's face, the prying look is a look I've unfortunately become used to. I do not enjoy it.

"No, Dean." Sam's presence had momentarily been forgotten until he spoke.

"Cas?" The eye-roll slipped out at that time, I didn't have enough time to suppress it.

"Sam hasn't done anything wrong if that's what you're trying to ask."

"Okay, I'm just confused why you'd have to check on him then." Why would I bother to check on my friend? The one who I've rebelled and questioned my superiors for?

"Dean, Sam is my friend and I care about his well being. He doesn't have to mess up for me to care about him."

"Just making sure," Dean said as if he didn't believe me, he has no right to question my relations with Sam. To imply I was lying about my motives.

"Sam, I would like to speak to Dean alone." I didn't spare a glance at Sam, too angry with his frustrating brother.

"Yeah, sure. I'll go get a soda."

When the door closed and I heard Sam's footsteps fade away I walked towards Dean with my arms crossed. It kept me from hitting the arrogant bastard.

"Dean, you need to give your brother more credit."

The offense on his face was nearly enough to make me break, "Me? Didn't you call him an abomination?"

I walked closer, using my height to my advantage while he sat, squinting at him with such disbelief, "Didn't you call him a monster?"

"He's my brother-" I was tempted to spring my wings out to remind Dean just who he was talking to. He thinks he has the right to step over Sam because of his blood relations? Unacceptable.

"And he's my friend. I advise that you start treating him better." I couldn't help the growl that surfaced, it didn't seem to matter to the smug asshole.

"Or what?"

I couldn't help myself from slamming a hand onto the table, creating a crack in the middle, dropping Dean's food onto his lap. "Or I show you what it feels like when you piss off an angel."

For the first time since he's learned what I am, and who I am, I saw genuine fear. I could hear Sam's footsteps return and backed away.

On cue, we heard a tentative knock along with a voice asking, "Can I come back in?" I walked over to open the door, I didn't want to see Dean before my departure.

"Yes, I'm actually leaving. Sam, it was good to see you." I was still blocking the doorway, Dean didn't see the smile I gave Sam and the smile I received in return.

"Yeah, you too." With that and the light feeling, I was given from Sam's breathy, awe tone, I took off.

[thebookkeeperslibrary]

Lost Time: Ch. 5

Fandom: Time Warp Trio

Author: The_Bookkeeper_96

Rating: T

Summary: Another summer at Horae Manor begins, but before Joe and Tessa get the chance to train, they are sent out on a mission to explore the magic capital of the universe, Mancika. Rumors of illegal magic conversion spread throughout the city, and Joe and Tessa need to locate those responsible. But after the events of last summer, Joe isn't eager to work with his Aether partner, and the two are struggling more with each other than with their enemies.

Read on AO3

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"Upon further analysis, the bodies of a magician and a mortal differ greatly on a physiological level. Magicians seem to be built with an internal armor to prevent any magic from harming them or worse. It is just a theory, but putting magic in the body of a mortal could result in not only extreme damage to the body but a complete deterioration of the mind as well. More experiments are needed. I also need to obtain a Great Wizard cadaver for further study." - from the recordings of Dr. Jacobi Hyde, Alchemist

"That is a lot of books." Sam blows out a low whistle, his eyes scanning up and down the long rows of bookshelves. He can only see the first row, beyond that, the room is dark and endless. The library at Horae Manor could rival the Library of Congress.

Juniper shrugs, letting her hair fall into her face. "I guess."

"You guess? They must have a copy of every book on Earth in here." He stares at her with wide eyes.

"Earth, Mancika, and every other known world out there." She mutters and walks over to a nearby table where she takes a seat, pulling out a few notebooks as she does.  "Books just never interested me much."

"I'm sorry, what?" Sam raises an eyebrow at her. "I thought you loved learning."

"I do. I just think there's a lot more to learn in the real world than in some books. If you want to nerd out about books with someone, talk to Arwen. She reads all the time. Tessa does too, though she'd never admit to it." Pretending like Sam's not even there, or perhaps hoping he'll leave, June clicks her pen and begins to write in her notebooks, occasionally referencing a book laid out before her.

Sam's not used to being called a nerd by someone he assumed was, well, also a nerd. He'd followed June to the library hoping to have some intelligent conversations with the only other person here who seemed to want to understand more about how all this magic stuff worked. At least he knows where the library is now so he can come in and study on his own if he needed to.

He grabs a random book off the shelf closest to him, A History of the Horae Greats by Petra Abell. He takes a seat across from Juniper, who's quickly flipping through the pages of her notebooks as if searching for something. He glances down at her work. "For someone who's not that into reading, you seem pretty invested in those books. Are those the ones you stole from Caelus last summer?"

She jumps as if she had already forgotten he was there. In the process, she manages to get a paper cut on her finger, dripping bright red blood onto the page. She curses and holds her finger close. Glaring at him, she says, "Maybe."

Sam peers closer, and June responds by shutting the books in his face. "What language is that?" he asks, oblivious to the fact that she is clearly trying to keep them to herself. He only caught a quick glimpse of the writing, but it isn't any language he recognized. In fact, most of it didn't even resemble words, just different shapes and symbols.

"Can't you find somewhere else to read?" she keeps glaring at him, hoping he'll get the hint. "These journals are private."

"Oh, um." He looks around at all the other empty tables. "I guess." He slides his chair away from the table and moves to a new spot farther down. He can still see Juniper from here, but he'd have to shout to talk to her.

Satisfied, June returns to her work. Reluctantly, Sam slips into his book. He's sucked in quicker than he expects. Each chapter seems to be about a different pair of Warp and Aether Wizards, except for one titled The Pair that Never Was that is only one page long. There's even a chapter on Rowena and Cassius. He's tempted to skip ahead and read about them, but the final chapter of the book catches his eye, The Unnamed Pair. If the chapters progress chronologically, that would mean the last chapter is about Joe and Tessa. But that didn't make any sense. How could someone write about them when they had barely begun their training? Who even knew about them yet?

He flips through the pages until he gets to chapter eighty-two, the final chapter. There is only one paragraph.

At this time, the Eighty-Second Pair is rising to power, the youngest wizards to begin training for Greatness. Not much is known about them at this time. Their mentors  (see Chapter Eighty-One: The Twins) are keeping tight-lipped about any and all details. This is understandable given the pair's destiny. No other Great Wizard has faced such a daunting quest as theirs: to preserve or destroy life as we know it.

Sam yelps and shoves the book away from him. No way that's true. How could some random author know so much about Joe and Tessa? But could that explain why they were both acting so weird at dinner? Did Cas and Ro tell them their destiny? He shakes his head to clear his thoughts. He'd have to ask Joe about this later.

"You okay?" June's question catches him off-guard.

"What?" Sam blinks at her, confused by her concern. Didn't she hate him five minutes ago? "I'm fine." He hoped his face looked calmer than he felt.

"You just screamed at a book and threw it away. That's like, the opposite of fine."

He eyes the book on the ground. He gently picks it up and walks back over to June. He places it on the table as gently as if it were a bomb. "That book is magic."

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah. We're at a magic school. Most of the stuff in here is magic."

"No, look." He flips to the chapter that scared him. "There's a chapter in here about Joe and Tessa. It says that they're destined to either "preserve or destroy life as we know it." How could a book possibly know that? How could this author even know about them? They've only been together for a year!"

Despite all of Sam's pointing and practically shoving the book in June's face, she ignores the words before her. "I think you already answered that question. Magic, duh."

He frowns. Sam is a man of science and all this magic stuff just made no sense to him, which was a new sensation. Even time travel was possible in theory and was something he could wrap his head around. He was used to being the smartest kid in the room, already knowing everything that was in the textbook before they even discussed it in class. He could do college-level calculus and even made inventions in his spare time. Magic simply did not fit into his world of ones and zeros.

"Doesn't Joe own a magic book? Why are you so weirded out by this book?" She doesn't look at him when she speaks. She simply toys with the pen in her hand and keeps her focus on her books.

He can't argue with her there.

He looks back at the page and notices a blinking line just below the paragraph about his friends. Like a computer cursor waiting to type out more letters. Is this book being written in real-time?

He slams it shut and places it back on the shelf where he found it. He'd met his weirdness quota for the day.

Forgetting Juniper's earlier protests, Sam takes the seat right across from her again. "How do you deal with all this magic stuff?"

She sighs and sets down her pen, realizing that she's not getting any research done tonight. "I told you last summer, magic is a form of science. Just because you don't understand it, doesn't make it any less real." She fans her arms out around her. "I'm sure there are plenty of books in here that will help you adjust to this new world. Why don't you grab a few to look over?"

Sam glances at the long rows of books, unsure where to start. None of the shelves have any labels to indicate how everything is organized, not that he would understand the subject material anyway. He doubted any of the books would be called "Magic for Dummies" or "So You're a Mortal in a Magic World". Which just means he has to search deep if he wants to find anything helpful.

He gets to his feet and begins to scan the shelves for any books or resources that might help him. He could spend a month in here and still not see everything. He'd have to check and see if there was some sort of cataloging system somewhere. Surely, a library this large would have some way to find specific resources. 

After a few minutes, he returns to the table with four books. Just from looking at the titles, he already has a handful of questions.

Without thinking about it, he starts to fire them off at Juniper, waving and slicing his hands through the air with each question. "So, if there's an entire magical world out there, why are there magic users on Earth? Or are Joe and Tessa the only ones? If they are the only ones, why were they chosen? Can anyone learn to do magic? And if magic is really a science like you say, then it has to abide by the laws of physics. But everything I've seen has broken all of those laws. Unless, of course, magic is operating on a quantum scale, but that just causes even more confusion."

His eyes zero in on hers and frowns, not understanding why she hasn't responded yet.

Juniper blinks, giving Sam a slightly fearful expression. She twists her hair around her fingers. "I didn't think anyone's brain worked that fast. You're kind of unsettling, you know that?"

He falls back in his chair, blushing. Though to be fair, he's hardly the weirder one here. Juniper's the one who talked about magic as if it were part of everyday life. Which, he supposed, it is for him now. And what's with those odd notebooks she keeps hiding from him? Whatever is written inside of them is not "normal".

June drops her hair in front of her eyes. "I can't answer your questions if you ask a hundred of them at the same time."

Sam stills and studies her out of the corner of his eye. Was she really going to help him out of all his confusion?

"It sounds like your main question is how is magic a science?" She peers at him through the thick strands of her dark hair.

He mutely nods, still not sure if she's going to give a sincere response or not. She had proven to only be annoyed by him so far. He'd been bullied enough times at school to know that not all kindness was genuine.

"Okay." She takes a deep breath, pushes her hair back, and leans forward. "Magic follows the most important law: energy can neither be created nor destroyed. All magic is energy conversion. From what I've studied so far, magicians and wizards, real ones, not the kind you hire for a kid's birthday party, are born with an innate connection to the universe that the rest of us don't have. They can take energy from different aspects or elements of the universe, like time or space, and through their bodies convert that into something new. Make sense?"

She spoke with calm conviction, like a professor giving a lecture on their area of expertise. What she said did make sense, but it still left him with a million questions.

"I guess, but to be honest this all sounds like fake science. Like something a person who believes in astrology or energy crystals would say." He scratches his chin and begins to skim through the pages of one of his books, slowly falling into the sense of comfort academic debate gave him. "Am I supposed to believe all of that is real too?"

"Not all of it, but some of it. There are definitely wizards out there who can heal through crystals. Though most of the people who claim to be able to do it on Earth are full of it and are just looking to scam customers. Genuine magic users are rare. Most of them prefer to live in Mancika or one of the other magic kingdoms since they don't have to hide what they are there."

"Have you been to any of those places?" Suddenly, the girls' advanced experience with magic feels intimidating.

June shakes her head. "No, but I've seen pictures and maps. Mancika in particular looks beautiful. It's the current magic capital of the universe, like what Cealus used to be. It's perfectly designed to represent each kind of magic equally.  There are schools for wizards to study and hone their crafts. There's even a stadium there for magical tournaments and fights." She sighs wistfully, staring off at nothing and absentmindedly taps a page in her notebook. The blood from her earlier cut is splattered on the page. "I would love to see it someday."

"Me too," Sam says without thinking. It catches him off-guard, but the more he thinks about it, the more he likes the idea of seeing a magic city in person. He would definitely get all the answers to his questions, and he'd be able to research all sorts of new things too.

"Really?" She looks at him, doubt written all over her face. The statement caught her off-guard too. "No offense, but I think we've already established you're more of a reader than a doer."

"I think everyone learns better when they have a live demonstration."

As if on cue, something crashes to the ground in the rows of bookshelves behind them. A round of groans soon follows.

Sam shrinks back. "What was that?"

"Your live demonstration." Juniper stares down at the spot in the book she was tapping and doesn't hesitate any longer. She hops to her feet and walks towards the sound, quickly disappearing in the tall lines of knowledge.

When she doesn't immediately come back or call out, Sam reluctantly gets to his feet and follows her deeper into the library. Fortunately, or maybe not so much, he's able to catch up to her.

"Are we really doing this?"

"We? I want to know what made that noise. You're cowering behind me like Chicken Little." June shrugs Sam's hands off her shoulders. "Don't think I've forgotten how scared you were last summer."

"You mean when you jumped into a cave because you heard imaginary voices?" he retorts. "I think that's a perfectly reasonable excuse to be afraid."

"I know what I heard," she mumbles under her breath and pushes ahead, away from him.

He stumbles to keep up. "And what do you plan to do when you find whatever made that noise?"

June shrugs. "I don't know? Make sure it's okay? That crash sounded painful."

The suggestion surprises Sam. His immediate reaction had been to run away, but maybe she was right. What if it was a person who made that sound? And what if they were hurt? He moves to walk beside June rather than behind her.

They reach the site of the crash and find a shattered globe and a couple of books on the ground. No blood in sight, but a few more scattered books lay on the ground further down the row.

June pushes on, going further and further down the shelves. "Hello?"

No response.

"Hello?" she tries again. Still no response.

"Maybe whoever did it ran away? We could search inside the library for hours and still not have seen half of it. We can't spend all night in here trying to find whoever made that mess." Sam picks up his pace to catch up to Juniper. "June? Are you listening to me?"

He can see the tension in her jaw, the way her eyes scan the floor, searching for any clues as to where the intruder or beast went. She had made a complete transformation. Where the shy girl who hid behind her hair he was talking to just a few minutes ago? "June?"

She comes to a sudden stop. "Shh. Did you hear that?"

At first, Sam can't hear anything. He waits a few more moments. Still, he doesn't hear any noise. He takes an unsteady step away from June. "I don't hear anything." The intense look in her eyes makes him uneasy.

"There it is again! This way!" She grabs him by the arm and pulls him down another endless row.

Sam's beginning to have flashbacks to the previous summer in Cealus. These rows of books remind him too much of the catacombs under that ancient city, and he wouldn't be surprised if they stumbled upon skeletons in here either. What noise is June hearing?

They fly through the library. Rounding corner after corner, until Sam isn't sure where they are or how to get back to their study table. He lets June drag him to the end of the row before pulling away.

"Stop!" he pants. "Where are we going? And what exactly did you hear?"

June's momentum carries her farther down the path before she comes to a stop. "It was the same voices from last summer. Someone else is in here. We can't let them get away from us. I need to know what they're saying."

"You don't even know what they're saying?"

"I- no. Whatever it is, it isn't English. I need to find them. Stay here if you want." She turns and runs off once more.

"June, wait!" Sam takes off after her.

He quickly loses sight of her, but he can hear footsteps slamming into the floor in the next row over. He takes a sharp left and catches a glimpse of her black hair flying around the corner just ahead of him. He tries his best to catch her, but running was much more Fred's thing than his. Gradually, he begins to slow down.

Just as he's starting to lose hope, he spots Juniper in front of him. She's far away, but she's no longer running. Sam jogs to her. More relieved to stop running than anything else.

"What were you thinking?" he manages to breathe out. "You just left me back there. Who knows how long it would have taken me to find my way out."

He swallows one more gulp of air before noticing that they stopped back at their study table, how still June is, and most importantly, that they are no longer alone.

A man who looks like a Gregorian monk stands over Juniper's notebooks, peering down, but not touching them. Well, 'stands' doesn't really describe it. More like floats over. There is a clear gap between his feet and the floor. And if that wasn't weird enough, Sam could see right through him.

The monk lifts his head, finally noticing the kids. His gaze focuses in on June.

The temperature of the room plummets as a pressure builds behind Sam's eyes, nearly knocking him down. His knees threaten to buckle beneath him, but as much as he wants to, he cannot move. Some invisible force holds him down, and he can't look away from the man.

The man says nothing, merely nods his head, and turns to leave, quickly disappearing among the stacks of books.

Several minutes pass before the pressure in Sam's head fades and he can move again. "Nope," he says, shaking his head rapidly. "No, thank you. No."

He grabs June by the arm and drags her out of the library. She doesn't protest, apparently still under the ghost's spell.

Ghost. That's what it was. No other word for it. Sam had just seen a ghost. Even after all the insane things he, Joe, and Fred had been through and seen together, the confirmation that ghosts exist is just too much for him. He wants nothing to do with it, and he can't let June get caught up in it either. Especially not after the way it looked at her like it knew her. Even if they aren't technically friends, getting her away from that library and the monster inside it is simply the right thing to do.

What is in those notebooks? It must be important because June wasn't letting them out of her sight. But what could be written down that would attract the attention of a ghost? Nothing good, surely.

They make it all the way to the entrance hall before Juniper says anything.

She tears her arm away from Sam. Her mouth is pressed into a thin line, and he can tell she wants to yell at him, but the words just aren't coming to her.

"Why did you do that?" She finally manages to get out. "Now I have to go all the way back to the library to get my notebooks."

"You can't go back." He stares at her with wide eyes. "That ghost-thing was going to hurt us."

"No, he wasn't. He walked- err, floated away." June promptly spins on her heels to head back to the library. "And you heard what he said. I can't just walk away from him."

"What he said? He didn't say anything. What are you talking about?"

She pauses, letting her hair fall into her face. "Well… I guess it isn't so much what he said. I just, know what he wants."

Sam can tell she's lying even without seeing her face, but he's not brave enough to question her about it. If she says she didn't hear the ghost, then she didn't hear the ghost.

"I have to get my books back. Next time you see me studying, please leave me alone."

Sam doesn't even have time to protest as June makes her way out of the entrance hall and back to the library. Well, if June wouldn't listen to him, hopefully, she'd listen to her friends or even Rowena and Cassius. Surely, they would help him. Did they even know they had ghosts living in their mansion?

He nods to himself, deciding to bring it up tomorrow at breakfast to everyone. Until then, he would hide out in his room for the evening. He'd had enough strangeness for one night.

[deansawthetvglow]

Prompt: For Dean's birthday, Cas Googles "presents for loved ones" and inadvertently follows recommendations for romantic gifts.

Shit. Okay. Hi anon, i forgot how to see inbox notifs and have no clue if u sent this during my drunk promt ask or sober prompt ask but will fill now.

Alright nvm ^^^ that didn’t happen.

 I lost this prompt for days after I got drunk and I couldn’t find it in my drafts and alas, finally. Anyways, this was written fully sober, lmao.

Just a Little Bit of Your Heart, 2.2k, 

fluff, light angst, post s14. (ao3 link if u want)

It’s January 20th, 4 days out from Dean’s 40th birthday and he still has yet to decide on a gift. It’s his first time, really, buying Dean a birthday gift. Sure, there had been the pack of funny socks he had snagged in passing from the check out at a Gas-N-Sip, but there hadn’t been any thought behind that, no planning, nothing that Castiel thought constituted the socks as a gift. Not really. 

Not only that, but there had never really been occasion to purchase a gift for Dean until now. Sam and Castiel had decided that, with the world coming to an end and all, Dean finally deserved a proper birthday party. In years past, he had either insisted on drowning out his birthday’s with booze or insisted on ‘no gifts.’ 

Castiel isn’t sure why, maybe because the eldest Winchester brother would only feel more indebted to the others around him, or perhaps because he simply didn’t like gifts. Either way, that’s why it became his mission to get the perfect gift for Dean. Something that isn’t a curse, but a comfort. 

The time after Mary and Jack had passed away and Chuck opened the gates of hell had been rough for Dean and him. Sam had kept a protective arm’s length between Castiel and Dean, insisting Dean needed time. It hurt to feel their bond being stretched thin as he’d watch Dean across the bunker from the corner of his eye, careful not to step into his space. Castiel had decided to stay in the bunker despite the tension though, Sam insisting they needed all hands on deck as they began on the long road to killing God.

Still, despite their close proximity, and the time they’ve had to heal, he can’t help but feel further from Dean. 

Cas remembers when Sam told a story of the time he gave Dean a chocolate bar and some motor oil for Christmas. Apparently, Dean had lit up at the sentiment, but Castiel can’t handle settling for something like that. 

Dean deserves something special. 

Castiel begins his search on Google using the simplest, most “Dean” search terms he can think of. 

Men’s flannels

Not special enough

Classic records

Maybe some time, but still, not good enough.

A new pair of boots

Shoes are always too risky. 

Cowboy costume

Halloween maybe, but not for this. 

Guns

Dean already has one he trusts. 

It’s been nearly two hours browsing Google and Amazon before Castiel has to take a break and let his head loll back with a sigh. 

After stretching a bit and standing up to pace the length of the bunker, he finally settles on a Google search that he’s sure will bear fruit. 

Gifts to show you care for someone. 

Castiel takes his time clicking through the links and scrolling through many of the lists. He nearly gives up when finally, an article entitled, “Gifts to Connect You to the Person You Care About”  catches his eye.

Cas smiles at the headline and clicks through the list, cataloging the possibilities away in his mind.

However, all those possible gifts dissipate from his mind as soon as he sees it. It’s perfect, and they have some in stock at the Bed Bath & Beyond an hour and a half away in Nebraska. With that, Cas calls a “Be back later!” into the seemingly empty bunker and heads out to fetch Dean’s gift. 

When he finally arrives at the store, he makes his way inside and heads to the sleep section, his eyes lighting up when he sees what he’s looking for on the shelf below a big “As Seen On TV” sticker. 

Next to the sticker it reads: “Bed Beats” 

Bed Beats are a pair of wristbands and compact speakers that are connected via wifi anywhere in the world. Just slip the wristband on, place the disc speaker underneath your pillow and send a request to your partner through the app. When they slip on their own wristband, the device will relay their heartbeat to your speaker and vice versa. Never feel disconnected again.

Castiel grins, giddy, and picks up the first box on the shelf. It’s exactly what he and Dean need. It’s the perfect way for Cas to watch over Dean without invading his space. It’s anatomical communication without speech. Cas will know when Dean needs help as his heartbeat speeds up, he’ll know when he’s at peace, he’ll know he’s alive. 

He also blinks at the bursting yellow sticker that sits on the top left corner of the box that exclaims, “Great for Long Distance Couples!” 

They may not be a couple, but with the way that their souls and relationship has grown distant, Castiel decides that’s enough to classify them as ‘long distance.’ 

As he waits in the line to check out, Cas also grabs a simple card and a tube of discounted, red wrapping paper left over from the holiday season. 

When he gets back to his car, he decides it’s best to get everything in order before presenting the gift to Dean. When he finally gets into the heavily taped box, he pulls out one set of the wristband/speaker combos and sets it aside for himself. 

Before shrouding the other set in the metallic, red of post-Christmas, 99¢ wrapping paper, he syncs the devices and downloads the app to avoid the hassle of setting it up later. 

Then, he writes, with his thigh as a sort of table, in the card with an old pen he found in the console of his truck. 

I’m including the instruction booklet in this card (please don’t read until after you open the gift!)

Dean, 

I know I’ve made so many mistakes lately, and that perhaps we do not see eye to eye on everything any longer, but this is a chance to connect without having to agree. Just to sleep and not be so alone. 

Happy Birthday. I hope you like it. 

Yours, Castiel

However, he scribbles out the ‘yours’ as it feels out of place in this letter. With that, he seals the card, and the instructions, into a white envelope with Dean’s name in angelic script printed on the front.

The drive home is pleasant and he can’t help but feel butterflies for the moment he gets to present it to his charge. 

The next days pass silently, Castiel with his gift for Dean hidden in his own closet and nearly forgotten amid all the preparations for the party. 

Sam was in charge of inviting people and Dean had insisted on being in charge of food and drinks. On the day of the party, Castiel sits off to the side as many of the guests enter, most are hunters he’s never met before, and he can’t help but feel like an outsider as the day of barbequing and reminiscing devolves into pie and drunkenness by nightfall. 

He’s glad to see Jody and Claire, but even then, their conversations are stilted, both of them want to speak primarily to Dean, the ‘birthday boy’, while Cas isn’t allowed that luxury. 

He sits away from Dean all night, only making contact to say “Happy Birthday, Dean” after he blows out the ‘4’ and ‘0’ candles that someone stuck straight through the latticework on a sweet, cherry pie. Cas smiles as Claire goes up and whispers something to Dean that makes him throw his head back in laughter and begin a lively conversation with her. 

That’s when he realizes he’s on the outside looking in. 

From where he stands, nursing a finger of whiskey, he can see Alex and Garth discussing the medical anomalies of Lycanthropes, Sam, apocalypse-world-Bobby, Donna and Jody playing some sort of cards-and-drinking game, a few people he doesn’t know attempting beer pong in the war room and even a pair of local hunters musing over the library’s expansive collection. 

He’s an outsider like he’s always been with the Winchesters. When he’s not of use, he feels unwelcome. He knows there’s never any ill intent, but even now, when he doesn’t even need his angel mojo, he still doesn’t quite fit. He doesn’t understand half of the banter thrown around the room, he can’t get drunk unless he drinks the entirety of the Men of Letters scotch collection, and he can’t interact with the guests without Dean coming up. 

At this, loneliness overtaking him, he decides to retreat to his room to wait the party out. 

He sends a nod and a tip of his glass to Sam before motioning that he’s leaving, Sam acknowledges him with a grin, drunk on whiskey and the excitement of the party, and Cas slips out of sight. 

Before letting himself rest, he sneaks into Dean’s room to place the card and the gift on his bed. 

He decides it’s best that way.

–

Castiel keeps his personal speaker and wristband close to him, beside his phone on his nightstand, hoping that some night it will be of use. He feels the uncertainty drift in and out as each night passes without so much as an acknowledgment of the gift. 

A week passes before anything happens. It’s 3 am when Castiel’s ears pick up on the small ‘ding’ that pops out of his phone speakers. 

He rolls over and grabs his phone. On the screen sits a notification. 

Bed Beats

Dean would like to share his heartbeat. Accept?

Castiel grins into the dark and arranges the speaker underneath his pillow before securing the soft band around his wrist at his pulse point. 

With a tentative thumb, he swipes to accept and lays his right ear down onto his pillow to hear Dean. He can hear his heart beating quickly, possibly a nightmare, Cas thinks, and wills his own jittery heart to slow. He has to be the grounding one for Dean, has to be a comfort. 

His own heart beats deep like a drum, and soon he can hear Dean’s heart rate slowing to match his own. Soon, they’re in perfect sync with one another. He feels closer to Dean than he has in months and hopes Dean feels the same. 

He listens as his charge’s heart rate begins to slow even more, to around 75 beats per minute, he notes, and assumes he’s slipping into sleep. 

Castiel, usually one for wandering the bunker after the brothers are asleep, doesn’t dare lift his head from his pillow until Dean ends the connection come morning light. 

It continues like this for many weeks, Dean requesting Castiel’s heartbeat in the wee morning hours, disconnecting at sunrise, and going about the days as if nothing has changed. 

Nothing’s really changed during the day. They continue to keep their distance. Dean thanks him for making the coffee one Sunday morning and Sam tells Cas, “See, space is all you needed,” his eyes sincere, “It’s healing.” But Sam doesn’t know the reason the healing process has begun to speed up. Cas can tell Dean hasn’t told his brother of the gift, and he prefers it that way. It’s the first thing between them that Sam isn’t clued into since before Mary’s passing. That alone brings him peace.

It’s a Tuesday in early March when everything shifts. Cas is lying on his back in his bed, nerves nearly taking him. Dean almost always pings by 3 am, and now it’s 45 minutes past and he’s trying to keep calm. 

A sound makes Castiel’s ears prick up, but this time it’s not a sharp ‘ding,’ it’s the soft sound of knuckles rapping on his door. 

Cas, beneath the covers in his most comfortable shirt, one Dean loaned him for the brief period he was human, props himself up on one elbow and quirks his head as the door opens softly, revealing Dean in his doorway. 

He’s in a Led Zeppelin t-shirt with holes around the seams, and a pair of black briefs, and the “Send Noods” socks Castiel bought him. 

“Dean?” 

“Hey, Cas” Dean whispers into the darkness as he steps into the room, shutting the door behind him with care. 

Words die on Castiel’s lips and his breath hitches as Dean pads, soft and calm, to his bedside. 

He lifts the corner of Castiel’s blankets ever so slightly and looks down into the glint of Castiel’s blue eyes as if asking permission. Castiel gives him a slight nod and holds his breath as Dean lifts the covers further and slips in under them. He positions himself with his head resting on the left side of Castiel’s chest, ear right above his heart and arm draped across him, hand gently thumbing at the soft fabric on Castiel’s right shoulder. 

Castiel can feel his own heart rate pick up, it’s swift and uncontrollable and it’s filling his vessel up to the brim with hard thumps. He’s beginning to wonder if he’ll ever breathe again when a low thud overcomes his near panic. 

As bright as a bell in a void, he hears it, Dean’s heartbeat, drumming from the deep. This time it’s his charge’s heart that’s strong and steadfast and convinces Castiel’s own to join it in slow synchronization. 

Castiel takes in a breath and slows his own heart rate. He sees Dean’s eyelids flutter shut and he lets his chin rest in the soft of Dean’s hair, his left hand rubbing slow circles into his back. 

“I missed you.” 

Dean doesn’t speak, but Castiel can feel the whisper of a smile move on his chest. 

As he lets himself drift into peace, thoughts blink in his mind at the pace of his heart. 

I fit here. Dean fits here. This is my family. This is who I love. This is home.

____

(Gift based on this!!!)

[julia-brookes]

Pierce x Reader (My Inner Demons)

Synopsis: Crashing on Ava’s couch becomes even more exciting when a group of attractive demons show up. But one demon catches your attention more than the others… (You’re a Wizard).

Word Count: 2609

It was cold, deathly cold. The soothing tik tok sounds of your grandfather clock echoed throughout the room as you groped the darkness for your wand. Your fingertips finally made contact with your wand. “Luminare,” you chanted, prompting a ball of light to appear at the tip of your wand, illuminating the room. You left the warmth of your heated duvet and waddled your way to the thermostat, turning it up. Being a wizard can come in handy on Earth. You complimented yourself, lugging yourself back to your bed. Now came the waiting game, waiting for your room to heat up. But it never did….

You heaved a sigh, perhaps you should see Jake about the heating system in your lodge. For now, you had to go with plan B: Beg your friend Ava to let you crash on her sofa. Hesitantly, you dialed her number and placed the cellphone to your ears. The rhythmic beeping would have been enough to  lull you to sleep if it wasn’t for your dysfunctional heating system. Thankfully, Ava picked up your call.

“Hello?” Her strained voice came onto the line.

“Hi Ava, it’s (y/n),” you stopped for a second. “I need a favor… My heating system isn’t working, mind if I crash on your couch?” There was a pause on the line before Ava replied.

“Sure, not a problem! Just make sure to talk to Jake about your predicament in the morning.” She giggled a bit.

“Thank you, I’ll be right over.”

You soon found yourself at Ava’s doorstep, waiting for her to open up. She soon did, and greeted you with a smile and a handful of blankets. “Thank you so much, Ava, you’re a life-saver,” you smiled. Ava smiled back, leading you into her (very purple) living room.

“No problem,” she smiled. “I’m going back to bed, feel free to raid my kitchen if you’re hungry.” Ava yawned, leaving for her room.

You replied with a curt nod, and made yourself comfortable on the couch, drifting off to dreamland.

It would be noon before the sun would grace your eyes. You sluggishly got up from your makeshift bed and knocked on Ava’s door. There was no answer… you knocked again. Maybe she’s still asleep? You thought, opening a crack. Ava was nowhere to be seen. Johnny was happily bouncing on his owner’s bed as you made your way into Ava’s room.

“Johnny, do you know where Ava is?” You questioned the cat. He simply meowed and resumed jumping. Hmm… maybe I should call her? She’s normally not up until 1…

You tried calling her… no luck. The time ticked by, it was now 1:20 and still no sign of Ava. Strange… you were worried now. But before you could organize a search party, the sound of Ava’s front door opening caught your attention. That’s either Ava, or Jake. The former seems more likely. You thought to yourself.

“Ava! Is that you, gurl?” You called out while turning the corner. “OHMYGOSH” it took all your willpower not to scream. Ava was unconscious and in the arms of a (very handsome) stranger.

Your eyes momentarily met his, setting your cheeks on fire. Just his eyes alone set every part of you aflame. You took a few seconds to process what was going on. Not only was there one stranger, there were many, dressed in, what you assumed to be, demon costumes. They’re probably here for the convention… you thought. “WELL DON’T JUST STAND THERE, PUT HER ON THE COUCH!” You yelled anxiously. The group seemed taken aback by your tone. Thankfully, Ava was set down.

One of the strangers stormed up to you. “How DARE you speak to me like that! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHO I AM?!” He yelled, charging a fireball in his fist. Your eyes widened in terror. Another magic user? They were hard to come by in this realm. You grabbed your wand from off the floor and chanted a fire disarming spell, efficiently quelling the flame.

“Your majesty, this human knows fire disarming magic! Are you all right?!” One of the (what you assumed to be) cosplayers spoke up. You looked directly at the stranger in front of you. Needless to say, he was furious yet intrigued. It would take a fool to not recognize the rage building up in those eyes. You readied your wand, ready to fire.

“That sorceress…” said the one who carried Ava. “How long until she wakes up?”

“Hmmm… I don’t know, depends on what happened to her.” You check her pulse and breathing. Both are present, causing you to let out a sigh of relief. “She should wake up soon…”

It seemed like hours, but Ava finally woke up, and the strangers flocked to her. It sure was a sight to see. You disassociate yourself for a bit as a wave of relief washes over you. All you caught was something about Demons and a magic crisis. You were brought back to reality when Ava shrieked. She was in the kitchen defending herself with nothing but a frying pan.

“Ava!” You rushed to her side. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you!” Ava looked at you momentarily before turning back to the demons at hand. The moment the demons saw you raise your wand, they dropped your weapons. Perhaps they were still off put by the fact that you were able to disarm the demon prince. Either way, Ava seemed relieved.

“Hear me out,” One of the strangers started. His slicked cobalt blue eyes lit up in seriousness. “We come with peaceful intent to-” He was cut off by incoherent screaming involving something about ‘her source of power. Out came another demon-like man. The one who threatened you, to be exact. He was so intimidating that you never noticed the way his physique moved. This one carried himself with pride. He must be a Demon Prince. The man you assumed to be Rhys mumbled a 'your majesty’, confirming your suspicions.

“This human is a sorcerer,” The Demon prince said, tossing a bra catalog to 'Rhys’, the one speaking earlier. The demon pulled out a bra, and you covered your eyes in response. No matter how close you are to a person, it’s still weird to have their undergarments exposed.

Ava used this opportunity to quite literally yeet the pan towards the demon prince’s face. Oof, that’s gotta leave a mark.  You cringed at the thought of the pain. Before you could blink, Ava ran, nay – she bolted – towards the door. One demon, who you assumed to be Pierce, chased after her. Ava was held tight, to ensure that she wouldn’t escape. You held up your wand again and shot the demon the fiercest glare you could muster. Yes, he was attractive, buy your friend is in danger!

“Let. Her. Go.” You ordered as the other demons drew their weapons. One of them, Lief, charged at you with his sickles. “Immobius!” You chanted, causing him to freeze. The struggle was evident on his face. No matter how hard he tried, he was stuck, frozen in time for the next 10 minutes. You turned to the rest of the demons, “Who’s next?” they lowered their weapons, not wanting their bodies petrified. You shifted your attention to Pierce. “Now, I’ll say it once again: Let Ava go.” He obliged and you rushed to Ava’s side. “Are you okay?!” She gave you a small nod before questioning you.

“How.. How did you…” She muttered.

“I’m a wizard(ess).” You completed her sentence. She seemed dumbfounded. “I promise, I won’t hurt you.” Ava understood what you meant, you wanted to protect her. “Now, why are you all here? I will not have you terrorizing an innocent sorcerer!” You decided to humor them for a bit. They explained everything, their crisis, and why they were here.

“Please, all mighty sorcerer,” Rhys begged Ava while kneeling on his feet. She nodded, taking pity on the poor demons.

It was a long adrenaline-filled day, between defending your friend Ava from some rather attractive demons and exposing your secret to her, you almost forgot to pester Jake about your broken heating system. You looked at the clock: it was 10pm. Dang, Jake would be asleep by now. You heaved a sigh, mentally taking note to see Jake bout your unit. Looking around, all the demons were asleep. Well, all except one: Pierce. Your eyes locked with his before turning to Johnny, who was currently purring against Pierce’s lap. Hesitantly, you sat next to Pierce. There was nothing between the two of you except for a your clothes, a few inches on the couch, and Johnny. Something about Pierce caused your heart to go haywire; it was beating out of control.

“Hey…” you shot Pierce a smile. “you seem to be getting along with Johnny.” Johnny left Pierce’s side, seeking the warmth of your lap. His stomach was exposed, and his eyes screamed 'please give me a belly rub’. You gladly obliged, gently patting Johnny’s tummy. He began to purr.

“You can talk to animals, Wizard?” Pierce questioned, prompting a soft laugh to escape your mouth.

“Well, please call me by my name: (Y/n) (L/n) . And, Oh, no,” you began. “In the human world, non-verbal communication is just as important as verbal communication. Non-verbal communication is when you try and say something without talking.” Pierce nodded his head, taking in what you were explaining. “Hmmm… The best way to learn more about this kind of stuff is to observe other humans. Pierce’s eyes lit up, the rest of his body was stoic, almost blasé. You could tell that he was engaged in the conversation, however. You gave him a sympathetic smile before proposing an idea. "How about I take into the city, we can go observe how humans act.” The demon nodded once again. He didn’t seem like one of many words.

You nodded and worked the details out with Ava, and you agreed to take Pierce out into the city.

The next morning, you woke up early to find the appropriate outfit. You settled for something form-fitting yet functional. It hugged you in all the right places, all the while expressing your personality. Pierce on the other hand, was gorgeous. His attire was fairly simple: a form-fitting button down shirt and a pair of jeans. You felt heat rush to your cheeks, his look was so simple, yet so attractive. The only problem was his horns. You gave it a thought before coming up with a brilliant idea.

“Pierce, may I touch your horns?” You asked an innocent question. Even an demon as stoic as Pierce became flustered. A light wash of pink was visible on his cheeks and ears. “As you observed, humans don’t have horns, I need to cast a spell on them so we won’t get weird looks.” Pierce’s posture relaxed a bit as he cautiously nodded his head. You began performing your magic, gently touching your finger to his horns, concentrating your magic in the tips of your fingers. Pierce’s discomfort was still apparent, though he held it in. His horns were soon gone, though temporarily, he looked like any other human. “Ready to go?”

“Yes…” Pierce was not a man of many words, nor was he familiar with human culture. Though he didn’t exactly reject your hand, you took his hand into yours. He was hesitant, but still followed.

You took him everywhere in the city, from the park, to the chiquest restaurants. Pierce was like a child. You would point out something about humans, and he would say something along the lines of “fascinating” or just nod while taking the sight in.

There was one particular location that he was fixated on: the movie theater.  Outside the building was a poster for a Romance movie. It seemed cliché to you, but to Pierce, it was intriguing. The poster displayed a man and a woman, their faces inches apart from the other’s, just a few seconds away from kissing.

“(y/n), what’s this?” Pierce questioned.

“It’s a movie. Humans take moving pictures with other humans to tell a story. They are normally put onto screens for other humans to see as a way to have fun.” you felt silly explaining such a concept to what other people would see as a grown adult, but you pressed on. “In the poster, they’re about to do this thing called kissing. It is way of sharing affection with another person,” you continued. “Would you like to watch it?” you asked. Pierce gave a small nod. You linked your arm around his, pulling him into the theater.

The theater was fairly populated, but you managed to quickly request for your tickets. “Two tickets for (Movie Name) please!” You said with a gleeful smile. The clerk eyed you and Pierce before printing two tickets for the show time and movie.

“Here you are, I went ahead and applied the couple’s discount to your tickets. You saved 20% today.” You blushed. “Snacks and popcorn are complementary as well, present the coupon to the snacks register and they’ll help you from there.”

“Thank you!” You smiled at the clerk. Though it was a little rude of them to assume that Pierce and you were a couple, you couldn’t argue about the fact that it was nice to save a little coin.

You soon received your complimentary food and headed into the dark movie room. The movie soon started; It was a rather cliché movie at that. But you couldn’t lie, this movie’s a classic. Throughout the film, you snuck glances at Pierce. His eyes were fixated on the movie, calculating gestures and noting certain aspects on human culture.

The movie soon ended with a happy ending. The crowd began to clap. Pierce took this as a signal to join in. You giggled at yourself before contributing to the sea of applause. People began to leave in their cliques. You soon followed with Pierce. You took Pierce’s hand into your own. “So we don’t lose each other in the crowd.” You blushed a bit before leading the way out.

You passed a group of girls, about the same age as you, whispering amongst themselves.  You were able to make out a few 'He’s so handsome!’, and 'That person sure is lucky to have a boyfriend as hot as that guy!’. Perhaps they were whispering about Pierce? Maybe not. As if on cue, you ever so gracefully planted face-first into the the sidewalk. You braced yourself for the impact, but it never came. Opening your eyes, your eyes locked with Pierce. Perhaps it was fate, or maybe the lack of sleep, the fact is, you almost fell but at the price of a sprained ankle. It was nothing bad, but it hurt to walk.

“Are you okay?” Pierce’s baritone voice laced your ears. You nodded, wincing in pain.

“I’ll be fine..” That didn’t stop him from sweeping you off your feet. You were in his arms, bridal style, while he walked back to Ava’s apartment. You buried your face into his firm chest to avoid the stares of the other citizens. His body was warm, it was almost therapeutic. You were half-asleep by the time Pierce arrived home. He set you gently onto the couch. Pierce gently planted a quick kiss onto your lips. It was almost like a fever dream, you were too tired to comprehend what happened. All you heard before drifting off to sleep was “Thank you for today, (y/n).”. And just like that, he disappeared into the wall. You didn’t know what the future would hold, but one thing was clear: You were beginning to catch feelings for the long-haired demon.

[enbyleighlines]

Modern wangxian with the, I'll drink for him, scene.

@dreamcatchersdaughter Thank you for the amazing prompt! This is my first time writing modern wangxian. I hope you enjoy!

—

It was a lousy night. There was no other way to describe it. Wei Wuxian had never been so uncomfortable in all his twenty-four years of life on Earth.

In any other circumstance, Wei Wuxian might have enjoyed himself. It was his first time at a casino, after all. Hypothetically, he liked the idea of a casino, of abandoning the usual societal norms and just indulging in vice for a night.

But that night was Jin Zixuan’s bachelor party, and thus Wei Wuxian could find no joy in that particular moment.

He was sitting with his brother Jiang Cheng at the sushi bar, but neither of them were very hungry. They knew they had only been invited because Jin Zixuan was marrying their sister, and she had likely persuaded him to try to bond with them.

At least there weren’t any strippers. Wei Wuxian definitely would have made his sister an early widow if Jin Zixuan had chosen a strip club for his bachelor party.

Neither Wei Wuxian or Jiang Cheng would normally be caught dead hanging out with Jin Zixuan’s normal crowd; all the other guests were a specific breed of rich snob that liked to display their wealth with needlessly expensive accessories, like diamond-inlaid watches or designer sneakers. In other words, they were old money. They were only rich because their parents and grandparents before them had been rich.

The brothers could only get away with sulking in the corner because Jin Zixuan had invited seemingly everyone he had ever met. In such a huge crowd, no one cared if one or two guests ducked out.

Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng sat in miserable silence. They had long since exhausted their long list of complaints about the night. The sushi hadn’t been all that good, and the omnipresent stench of cigar smoke was starting to make Wei Wuxian a tad queasy.

Again, it was a lousy night. It was a night Wei Wuxian would remember forever.

That was why, when Wei Wuxian’s eyes caught a familiar flash of white and light blue, he immediately sprung to his feet.

His eyes hadn’t deceived him: There, standing awkwardly to the side, was Lan Wangji, one of Wei Wuxian’s friends from high school.

“Wangji!” Wei Wuxian dove into the crowd, uncaring that his behavior was attracting attention. He elbowed his way through the crowd to reach his tall, handsome friend.

As always, Lan Wangji was dressed in pale colors. His fashion sense was every bit as expensive as Jin Zixuan’s, Wei Wuxian knew, but its worth was far more understated. That night he wore a soft-looking powder blue cardigan over a high-collar dress shirt. Both were well-fitted, possibly even tailored to his exact measurements.

Not for the first time, Wei Wuxian was momentarily speechless by his friend’s natural beauty.

Then Lan Wangji turned to Wei Wuxian. “Wei Wuxian,” he said, “Hello.”

The look on Lan Wangji’s face was tense, almost pained. Wei Wuxian saw, on the small raised table in front of him, was an unopened can of beer.

“You’re drinking?” Wei Wuxian asked.

“Not yet,” another voice answered.

Across the table stood a somewhat familiar looking fellow. His expression was cruel, making what could have been a handsome face ugly. In his fist, he clenched onto a matching beer can.

“What’s that?” Wei Wuxian asked.

“He won’t drink,” the man scoffed. He gestured to Lan Wangji. “I bought Lan Wangji a beer — with my own money — so that he will have something to toast my cousin’s last night as a bachelor. But the man refuses to drink.”

Suddenly, Wei Wuxian recognized the unpleasant man. “Jin Zixun,” he said, “If you know Lan Wangji at all, then you know he doesn’t drink.”

“But this a bachelor party, not a funeral!”

Jin Zixun seemed so personally offended by Lan Wangji’s refusal that Wei Wuxian had to laugh. “Those of the Lan family treat every formal gathering like a funeral. That’s nothing new. Tell me, why do you care so much whether he drinks?”

“Because I paid for it,” Jin Zixun grouched, as inconsolable as a toddler, “Why is he refusing my gift? Does he intend to waste my money? Isn’t that rude?”

Wei Wuxian sighed. He suspected that Jin Zixun was already a bit tipsy. “So... you’re saying that your main concern is that the beer will go to waste, yes? If that’s all it is, then I’ll drink it.”

Without further ado, Wei Wuxian popped open the beer can’s tab and took a long, self-satisfied swig.

Somehow, this only seemed to piss Jin Zixun off more. “I didn’t buy it for you,” he sneered. He was glaring hot red lasers into Wei Wuxian’s skull. “I wouldn’t waste my money on you!”

“That’s enough.” Lan Wangji put his arm out, acting as a physical barrier between the two men. “No fighting.”

Wei Wuxian casually took another sip. It wasn’t even good beer.

What a lousy night!

—

Later, when the bachelor party had finally reached its conclusion, Lan Wangji offered to drive an inebriated Wei Wuxian home while Jiang Cheng walked.

During the ride, Wei Wuxian babbled. Most of it was incomprehensible, or just plain nonsense.

Lan Wangji listened patiently anyhow.

At one red light, Wei Wuxian fell silent. Bored, he had taken to ruffling through the papers in the front glove compartment.

Lan Wangji cleared his throat, signaling his intent to speak.

From his peripheral vision, he saw Wei Wuxian glance over at him. Though he was certainly still tipsy, he hadn’t lost all of his wits. “What is it, Wangji?”

“I wanted to say thank you. For earlier.”

It took Wei Wuxian’s alcohol-swamped brain a minute to figure out what he was talking about. “Oh!” He held up a pointer finger when he remembered, like he was a cartoon detective or something. “You mean, when I swooped in and drank that beer for you?”

“Mn.”

Wei Wuxian laughed. “T’was nothing. I gotta say, though, it felt nice.”

“Hmm?” Lan Wangji prompted.

“Well...” Wei Wuxian licked his lips, searching for the right words. “You’re just like... princely? Which isn’t a bad thing. I like that you’re princely. But it also feels like... I don’t know... you have this vibe of not needing anyone. So it was nice that I got to be the hero for once. It’s like you were a damsel in distress, y’know?”

The light turned green, but Lan Wangji had stopped breathing. Wei Wuxian thought he was princely?

“Ahh, don’t tell sober me I told you this,” Wei Wuxian added suddenly, “He doesn’t want me telling you this stuff. But in truth, he really likes you.”

“Wei Wuxian... are you talking about yourself in third person?”

There was no response.

Lan Wangji was a responsible driver, so he waited until the next red light to glance over at his friend to confirm what he already knew.

Poor drunk Wei Wuxian had fallen asleep.

“He really likes me,” Lan Wangji repeated to himself in the silence of the car, “Wei Wuxian thinks I’m princely...”

Hope that he never before dared to entertain burst forth in turbulent waves within his rib cage. Cataloged memories of Wei Wuxian’s many smiles, the most precious image in the world to him, flashed within his mind’s eye. Lan Wangji had to pull over briefly to gather himself back together.

Lan Wangji had loved Wei Wuxian for ten long years. Was it possible that Wei Wuxian harbored even a fraction of the same affection?

The possibility was almost too much for Lan Wangji’s heart to handle.

Lan Wangji feared he would burst out of his own skin, his emotions were so vast. His body simply couldn’t contain them. Yet he swallowed them down, took a deep breath, and started thinking up a plan.

Tomorrow was the wedding.

Tomorrow, Lan Wangji would ask Wei Wuxian to dance.

Tomorrow, if Lan Wangji was very, very lucky, they would embark on their own love story.

Truly, it was a wonderful night. It was a night Lan Wangji would remember forever.

[lilacmoon83]

Finding You Always

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 211: Uncharted Territory

Aphrodite was lost in her thoughts, as Snow drove them to Andresia and the raven haired beauty looked over at the Goddess.

"She's wrong, you know," Snow mentioned.

"About what?" she asked.

"All those things she said. She's just being a vindictive bitch. To be honest, I can't understand why I ever trusted her. Rumple is right...she is a gnat," Snow replied. Aphrodite smirked at that.

"Be that as it may...I can't really refute anything she says. I have a feeling I don't have some of my memories," she fretted.

"Well...what do you remember?" Snow asked.

"Well…I remember just being one day, on Mount Olympus. Zeus and Athena were there and told me who I was. They said I arose from the sea foam after a great battle with the Titan Uranus. They said I was the goddess of love, beauty, passion, and procreation. But I really had no idea what any of that meant," Aphrodite replied.

"I mean...I got a lot of attention at first ,but he myths got it all wrong. I was so naive and had no concept of...um, pleasing a man," she said a bit shyly. Snow smiled.

"That kind of makes sense. I mean, most of those myths were written by old men. It makes sense that they instantly turned you into some sex symbol," Snow reasoned. She nodded.

"Anyway...Hephaestus pleaded with Zeus to let him marry me and I had no idea what any of that meant. Then Hera, who hated me too, told me what men wanted me for in graphic detail and encouraged Zeus to let him marry me," she explained.

"And don't get me wrong...Hephaestus was very nice, but I didn't know what it was to love yet. I thought Zeus was going to allow, because he liked keeping Hephaestus happy, but he refused his request. He said I was too young and innocent to marry anyone, which considering all the things Zeus did was pretty out of character for him," she said.

"He protected you…" Snow said. She nodded.

"He and Ares almost came to blows, because Ares wanted me too, which was scary and led Athena to take me away to her temple. I spent about a century there, learning my place," she replied.

"Is that when you decided you wanted to champion only the truest love?" Snow asked. Aphrodite smiled.

"Hermes helped with that. She read me love stories from the very enchanted library that we're going to visit now. I think that's what made me angry when I saw many versions of love among both the Gods and mortals that never measured up to what I believed love should be...like the love in those stories," she said. Snow shook her head.

"It always comes back to stories...to the book," she replied.

"It truly does. I almost gave up until I saw the love between Serenity and Endymion. They were in love and the mortals in the Crystal Kingdom were facing a great evil; one that Zeus refused to get involved in. That was the first of many times Hermes and I defied him," she said in amusement.

"And strangely, no matter how angry he got with me...he never raised his voice," she added.

"And you're sure he's not your father?" Snow asked.

"I'm not sure of anything really, but why would he hide it?" she questioned. Snow nodded. She had a good point there.

"After Serenity and Endymion defeated their nemesis and I presented the chalice to them, telling them of their role, I found my own love," she said.

"Anchises...the shepherd," Snow replied with a teasing note in her voice. Aphrodite looked at her.

"Yes...we both have a type, except I don't remember much at all about Anchises, except the love. The love was true and real," she replied.

"Well...it was a really long time ago," Snow offered. Aphrodite looked at her.

"Would you ever forget even one detail about Charming?" she questioned. Snow relented.

"Not in a million years," she admitted.

"So...maybe this is where Blue comes in? I mean, she had a hand in leading her dark half to you and you losing your son, which you obviously remember very clearly. What do you remember after that?" Snow asked.

"Grief...pain...isolation for a really long time. Then Seth ripping all the realms apart, his banishment, and Gothel destroying the tenth realm. Serenity and Endymion survived and relocated their displaced people near Olympus," she said.

"Then my first charges passed on, after their thousand year reign had ended," she explained.

"Then there was a second spark," she added.

"The Dragon King and Queen," Snow recalled.

"Which I had much less interaction with," Aphrodite admitted.

"Really?" Snow asked. She nodded.

"The Dragon King was a good man, but prideful. He loved his Queen very much, but almost never showed her affection in public," Aphrodite replied.

"That's terrible...I can't imagine not holding Charming's hand, not having his arms around me, not kissing him…" Snow lamented. Aphrodite smiled.

"He regime was very militaristic and his true love was not looked upon well, especially since she was from outside his Kingdom. Like I said, he was a good man, but full of pride. His Queen tamed him a bit, but he did not always have the best advisers and generals around him. I did not get to interact with them as much, simply because his court distrusted me so much. And blamed me for bringing their King together with his Queen," she said.

"Wow…I had no idea," Snow replied. She nodded.

"Their time was cut short, thanks to the Dragon and the Dark One, Xanetakos, which we now know was really Yzma in disguise," she said.

"So...if their time was cut short, then you had a time gap between them and us," Snow realized.

"About six hundred years," Aphrodite said.

"And where were you during that time?" Snow asked.

"Sometimes Mount Olympus...sometimes my Temple. The same thing everyday," she replied, realizing how that sounded.

"Like curse memories," Snow said, as she parked the car.

"But why? And who? Why would they take my memories. What was I really doing during that time?" she wondered.

"I don't know...but we're going to find out," Snow replied, as they approached the palace gates. Fandral's head Knight and right hand, a masked man, greeted them with a respectful bow.

"Queen Snow. Goddess Aphrodite," he greeted.

"Hello Knight Zorro," Snow greeted in return.

"We were hoping to see Rose," Aphrodite said.

"Of course," he said, gesturing them ahead into the garden.

"Snow! Aphrodite!" Rose called, as she and her young ones greeted them excitedly.

"Whoa…" Zorro said.

"What is it?" Rose asked.

"Well, forgive me, Your Majesty, but while I'm used to the striking resemblance between you and Queen Snow, I guess I did not realize how much the Goddess looks like you both as well," he replied.

"What?" Aphrodite asked.

"He's right...you do, except for the hair. Didn't you know?" Rose asked.

"You know, now that I think about it, you looked different when we first met. I guess I never realized there was a change," Snow replied.

"What do you mean? I've always looked like this…" she said, as she poofed a compact mirror and looked at her reflection.

"And apparently never realized that I look like one of my charges and her counterpart," she realized.

"She looked different when you first met?" Rose asked.

"Yes...maybe it was a glamor spell!" Snow exclaimed.

"Why would someone put a glamor spell on me?" Aphrodite asked.

"Probably for the same reason they wiped away a bunch of your memories. That's why we're here, Rose," Snow said.

"We think the answers to the missing pieces in her past could be in one of your books," she said. Rose's face lit up.

"Of course," she said, as she motioned them to follow her.

"It would be a very old book. It could take an eternity to find it," Aphrodite warned.

"Maybe not," Rose interjected, as she showed them an electronic tablet.

"You got everything cataloged?" Snow asked.

"During the curse. Since I was awake and there wasn't a lot of ruling to do be done under Seth, it allowed me to spend more of my days in the library. Fandral convinced Seth that an electronic system like this would help us organize the texts that he didn't want people reading and tuck them away since he couldn't destroy them. But really it just made it easier to find everything once it was cataloged," Rose said.

"Now, sometimes hundreds of new books appear each day so there's always still plenty of work to do, but the majority, even the ancient stuff, is now cataloged," she explained.

"That's wonderful…" Snow gushed.

"I'm a little surprised that Hermes hasn't helped fill in your memories though," Rose mentioned.

"You know Hermes...she travels a lot and I know she'd tell me if she knew anything," Aphrodite replied.

"Which makes sense that maybe any memories concerning your life were erased from her too. What about Athena?" Snow asked.

"She either doesn't know or something has forbade her to tell me," Aphrodite replied.

"Well, then we need to find the answers on our own," Rose replied.

"And we will," Snow assured.

"If my memories really are missing...then maybe I am cursed. James...he could be in danger just by being with me. What if the Horned King was right?" she lamented, but they put their hands on her shoulders.

"You are not going to lose James," Snow insisted.

"She's right...true love is stronger than a curse and we all know that," Rose assured her, as they went into the library with the children to begin their search for answers.

~*~

David hopped off the Jolly Roger, followed by Emma, Xander, Hook, James, and Fandral, who had met them at the Harbor after David called him.

"This place...never changes," Xander commented, as they walked from the docks and onto the island mainland.

"As much as we hate it...I suppose everywhere has a place like this. Boston had places too that were no picnic," David mentioned, as they approached what appeared to serve as a Main street of sorts. It was lined with bars, clubs, and brothels, as well as an open market that was selling a number of goods.

"Ten bucks says most of those goods are stolen and there's drug trafficking going on at most of those kiosks," Emma said.

"No need to take that bet," Xander said, as he swiped his finger along one of the counter, while getting a glare from the owner. His finger was colored pink.

"Well, it's not white powder so what exactly is it?" she asked.

"Poppy dust. Like cocaine, back in our land, it was ground up and sold. If you sniff enough of it or roll it up and smoke it, you'll get a high like you wouldn't believe," he replied. She sighed.

"I thought Seth destroyed all the poppies," Emma said.

"Around Mount Olympus...but Aphrodite says they'll grow anywhere there's an exorbitant amount of evil," James said, as he pointed to the body they had come for. The poor man, though he was likely no angel, was still laying in the street. No one cared enough to cover him and he had clearly been walked over and jostled in the dirt.

"Okay...now I'm really glad we didn't bring Mom or Eva on this one," Emma said. It was too much. The level of cruelty and bad emotions would have been overwhelming for Eva and her mother as well. While she knew both of them were tough as nails, she and her father still did their best to protect them from this level of cruelty and evil when possible. Which they realized seemed silly since they had stood against Seth and some of the worst alongside them. But this place was decidedly something they hoped they never needed to see.

"He did this…" David said.

"Most likely, but we probably can't be sure until Bashful does an autopsy," Emma replied.

"Yes we can...because he left me a message," David said, as he put a glove on and brushed some dirt away from beside the body, before extracting a smashed and now dead snowdrop flower.

"Damn him…" Xander cursed.

"A snowdrop…" Emma said.

"He's taunting me," David said, as he stood up and looked around.

"It's like I can feel his eyes on us. He's here...watching us," he added.

"Knowing that psycho, he'll manage to get eyes everywhere," Fandral warned, as they put gloves on and ignored the stares they were getting, as they put the body in a body bag for transport.

"Can I help you?" David asked irritably, as one man decided to approach.

"Just hoping you finish picking up the trash, Your Majesty...because your kind ain't wanted here," the man said.

"Like I give a damn. Now, go back into your tavern," he snapped.

"This is Pleasure Island, Sheriff Charming...and we don't obey your laws," he refuted.

"Yet...but believe me, I'm going to find a way to clean this cesspool up, so enjoy it while you can, Mr…" he said, as he paused and glared at the man.

"No need for the Mister...I just go by Grimm and I'm a simple man, trying to run a business," he replied. David smirked.

"Grimm...something tells me with a name like that what you're into is far from simple," he replied. Grimm glared at him.

"Because of men like you. Lawmen...royals, who come and throw their weight around and impose their will on the little people," he said.

"I'm well aware that back in our land there were royals and lawmen that weren't kind and fed their own interests. But that's not me. All I care about is the safety of the people of the United Realms," David countered.

"Well...you have your body so maybe it's time you get back to the people you actually care about and not us...bottom feeders. That's what we are to you," he hissed.

"I have the body, but I don't have the killer," David said, as he pulled up a photo on his phone.

"Seen this man?" he asked.

"Sure have...I gotta say, watching your cat and mouse game with the doctor is satisfying. All that power and you still haven't bested him, though if you ask me, that Queen of yours is a bit more trouble than she's worth," he mentioned.

"No one asked you...where is he?" David demanded to know.

"Around...I suppose I get it though. She is a beauty and so is her product," he leered, as his eyes flicked to Emma. That was a huge mistake, as David punched him in the face and shoved him away. Xander stepped in and put a hand on his son's shoulder, as some of the other men around started to move in. He was having none of it and pulled the chalice sword from its sheath.

"Don't get stupid," he warned. It wouldn't operate at full power in a place like this where magic was suppressed, but it would still do its job.

"Dad...as much as I'd like to arrest this entire island, we need to go," Emma urged.

"She's right...they're never going to tell us where Jekyll is," James agreed. David hated this. He wanted nothing more than to find Jekyll at that moment and end him, but he knew it would never be that simple. He had found the perfect haven to hide and plot his revenge. He was already taunting him and probably enjoying his frustration right now. He relented and sheathed his weapon, as Xander and James hauled the body bag back to the ship.

"Have a good day, Sheriff Charming and kiss that pretty wife for us all, especially the good doctor!" Grimm taunted. David was practically boiling in his own skin, but Emma took his arm and led him back to the ship.

"Don't do it, Dad...he's not worth it," she said.

"I know, Em…" he said, with a sigh.

"She's right mate...Grimm is a bottom feeder for sure. His establishment has it all. Alcohol, gambling, drugs, prostitution and a dozen other things I pretended to ignore in the times I frequented his place in my past," Hook advised.

"Do you know much about him, beyond his tavern?" Emma asked.

"Not really. Pleasure Island is full of outcasts though. He hates royals and anything good. I've never been privy as to why," Killian replied.

"His name is Grimm though...it's curious," Xander said.

"Maybe Rose can find more on him. He seems to have supporters," Fandral mentioned.

"Oh he does...like I said, this place is full of outcasts and they ran rampant during Seth's reign. Before all this, they kept to themselves, but now that a sense of law and order is back...we may have a lot of problems from him and his cohorts," Killian said.

"Great...more troublemakers. Like we don't have enough trouble," she replied, as they boarded the Jolly Roger and Killian set sail back to Storybrooke.

~*~

They arrived back at the stables and dismounted the unicorns.

"Wow...that was easily the most amazing thing I've ever experienced," JJ said..

"I thought you might like that. We can go anywhere you want next," Summer replied.

"So...it's all real. Like the castles, the Emerald City, even Neverland?" he asked.

"Yes, I can show you around Misthaven if you want and Oz is real too. Most of Neverland isn't pleasant, except for Tigerlily's island. She's a very good friend," she replied.

"Well…I'd love to meet her," he said.

"Okay...we can go now. I'll just text my parents and tell them I'll be home later," she replied.

"So...you're going to Boston with them tomorrow?" he asked.

"I am...will you be going back there? You probably have a job to get back to," she said, a bit sadly.

"I do...unless you think the hospital is hiring here," he mentioned. She looked at him in surprise.

"You want to work here?" she asked. He shrugged.

"It sounds exciting, but I think I'll wait and just tag along with you tomorrow, if you don't mind. She smiled.

"I'd like that," she replied.

"Elsa and I have to get back, but go ahead and take Pegasus to Tigerlily's island," Leo said, as the winged horse landed beside them.

"Wow…I think I'll let you steer," JJ said, as she mounted the animal and he got on behind her, before holding on. The animal soured into the air, as Leo and Elsa watched on.

"I think your little sister is smitten," she mentioned and he sighed.

"Yeah…I guess it was bound to happen and he seems nice," Leo mentioned.

"Wow...that's a really mild reaction," she said. He chuckled.

"As long as she's happy and I doubt he'd hurt her, unless he has a death wish," he replied. She chuckled.

"Very true," she replied, as they headed home to Arendelle.

~*~

Jekyll chuckled, as he watched Charming make a spectacle, just as he knew the Prince would. It was a very good thing. He normally worked alone, but having potential allies in the riff raff on this island could prove to be very useful, indeed. He exited his lab and made the trek to Grimm's tavern.

"That was quite a show," he said, as the bartender gave him a weary look.

"I took a punch for you, so I expect some kind of repayment, like making that hotheaded pretty boy pay," Grimm said. Jekyll smirked.

"Oh don't worry...I plan to eventually burn Charming to ash, but it's far too much fun playing with him like this and making him fear me for the sake of his lovely Snow White," Jekyll said, as Grimm poured him a drink.

"It is refreshing to see someone finally stick it to those royal goody goodies," he agreed.

"But all this to possess a fairy tale princess? They are a dime a dozen in the United Realms," he mentioned.

"Oh no...not like her. Even her counterparts can't quite measure up. Sure, one is an actual Goddess and Rose Red comes close as well. But Snow White...she is perfection, even when she's not," he said.

"She is under my skin in a way that I cannot shake and I will break them down until she is ripe for my picking and he is crushed beneath my boot," he hissed, as he finished his drink and returned to his lab to continue his work.

~*~

"Zella...you just got released from the hospital...and forgive me, but this is the kind of thing that got you admitted to the mental ward in the first place," Lucifer fretted, as Drizella examined herself in the mirror.

"Relax Lucifer, I've been given a clean bill of mental health and I am in full control of my mental faculties now," she said.

"Then why are you being fitted for a wedding dress?" he asked.

"I told you...I'm just planning for my future. My future with Prince Charming," she replied. Lucifer sighed and went to get Rodmilla, hoping she would come and talk her daughter down. Things were not good for her either these days. Thanks to Snow White's darker half, she had gone from living in a mansion and a large bank account to living in a tiny apartment and working as a seamstress in this very store.

They had all been surprised to find out that Drizella had a counterpart that was stable and reformed, but the confusion was saved when the other Drizella decided to keep her curse name and now went by Ivy, as her birth name held too much pain for her.

"Drizella...what are you doing?" Rodmilla demanded to know, as she came into the dressing room.

"Relax mother...I'm just trying it on. Is that so wrong?" Drizella asked, as she exited the dressing room so she could use the large mirrors to look

"You see...the old, troubled Drizella would have run out into the streets in search for her dream groom, Prince Charming himself. But I told you that I'm mentally stable again," she said.

"Then you are no longer going after Snow White's husband?" Lucifer asked.

"Oh…I didn't say that. But that little bitch has utterly destroyed this family and left us in ruins. She humiliated me on numerous occasions, took our family fortune and our mansion, forcing us to live in squalor, and made a mockery of us," she replied.

"Meanwhile, she lives in a literal castle, has true love with her Prince Charming, and has turned most of her enemies into friends, including the Evil Queen herself. The entire United Realms looks to her as their Queen, but what is Snow White without the Evil Queen?" she asked.

"Drizella...while I agree that Snow White deserves to pay, we must abandon that road to revenge. We do not have the power or magic needed to face her, not to mention her litter of magical brats," Rodmilla reasoned.

"Very true, mother…" she said, as she stepped to the window and saw him in the town square. He appeared to be with his eldest daughter and a few others, including his counterpart and twin. It was definitely a treat for the eyes, but her desire for him went further beyond the physical, for the other two paled in comparison.

"That's why...I need magic and then a new Queen can be born. And this time...this Queen will make sure she puts Snow White back in that glass coffin...for good," Drizella said. Rodmilla and Lucifer exchanged a wary glance. It was clear that Drizella was still very disturbed.

~*~

Snow idly flipped through a large tome. They had isolated all the very old texts that were both still in Greek or Latin. Then Aphrodite had used magic to translate them all, but searching through them was still a huge undertaking. She didn't mind though and Belle had expressed an interest in joining their search as well, so she was going to drop off some books to her on the way home.

"Nothing…" Aphrodite said in frustration, as she closed her book and huffed, as she stood up.

"We can't give up...we've barely scratched the surface," Rose admonished.

"I know...I'm just impatient. I just can't shake the Horned King's words and if James really is in danger from me, I need to know," Aphrodite fretted.

"You are not a danger to James...I don't care what he said. Love is always worth any risk and I'm sure my brother-in-law would agree," Snow admonished. She sighed and sat back down.

"I know...you of all people have faced losing the man you love more than anyone should have to. It's suffocating," she admitted. Snow nodded.

"It is, but trust in love. Even in the darkest moments, it will shine through," she promised the Goddess. Aphrodite smiled.

"Thanks...but it's getting late in the day. I saw we stop for the day and each take our books home for later," she suggested.

"That's a good idea and Charming must be close too. We'll drop off this pile for Belle on our way to Granny's," Snow said, as her heart fluttered and her husband entered the library with Fandral and James. She smiled at him and saw him stride purposefully toward her. She welcomed his arms and his kiss, as she lost herself in him momentarily.

"Everything okay, my love?" she asked, as their lips parted. He nodded.

"Yes…Pleasure Island is just a very dark place, but you're my light in any darkness," he replied and she practically melted against him, resting her head against his shoulder.

"Oh baby…" she gushed, as she brushed a hand along the back of his neck in a soothing manner.

~*~

"Did you find anything?" James asked curiously, as their lips parted. Aphrodite sighed.

"Not yet...but I have plenty of homework to take with me," she mentioned, gesturing to the stack of books.

"That looks like fun…" he muttered

"Does that mean you'll help?" she asked. He rolled his eyes.

"You know I will if it's important to you. But I just hope you know that what's in your past is irrelevant to me. I love you, no matter what," he replied.

"I know...I just have to know. Something isn't right and there's a chance that I could be a danger to you," she lamented. He cupped her face in his hands.

"You are not a danger to me...you are not cursed," he insisted. She sighed.

"Maybe...but I still need to know what is being hidden from me," she said.

"I agree...and that's why I'll help read through all of this," he promised. She smiled and kissed him again.

"Thank you...and I'll make it worth your while," she whispered to him and he smirked.

"You always do," he said, as he picked up the stack of books.

~*~

"Was it bad?" Rose asked, as their lips parted.

"I have seen a lot of villainous places before in my time and it was definitely up there with some of the worst," Fandral replied.

"The victim I'm sure was far from innocent, but it was definitely Jekyll," he added.

"You're sure?" she asked worriedly. He nodded.

"He left a snowdrop on the body, I'm afraid. He is clearly taunting David," he replied.

"He will hide for now, but we will get him," he assured, as they kissed again.

~*~

Blue stormed into the hospital later that night, bringing one of the few fairies that still revered her as the true head fairy.

"What are we doing here?" she asked. She had white hair with pink streaks.

"There is someone I must see. He has secrets that he must help me keep from being unearthed," Blue said.

"Did you bring your wand, Opal?" she asked. The other fairy nodded.

"Yes," she answered, as they arrived at the door that led to the basement. The mental ward.

"I need in here," she said and the other fairy zapped the lock, allowing them in and they took the stairway to the basement. Opal followed Blue to the third cell and she peered in on the comatose King George.

"He's been a vegetable for years...I don't see how he would have any answers for you," Opal commented, but Blue took her wand and used some of the magic. Awareness filled George's eyes and the cell snapped open, allowing him out.

"Blue Fairy…" he uttered.

"We need to talk about your son," Blue said.

"My son is dead," George replied.

"Not anymore...you've been out of commission for many years and Zeus gave him a second chance at life," Blue explained. George was stunned.

"Why would Zeus do that?" he asked.

"You know why," Blue replied.

"Then she's here…" he realized and Blue nodded.

"And she's asking questions. The bimbo has finally noticed there are noticeable gaps in her memory," Blue said.

"And James?" he asked.

"He had no inkling, but if he got his memories back then we both know he could break her curse and she'll know everything," Blue replied.

"And everything we did will come to light," George realized.

"And we can't let that happen," she said.

"My James is alive…" he uttered in awe.

"And he's happy?" George asked.

"Yes, he's happy, but you never cared about that. You didn't want him with her either," Blue replied.

"I didn't, because I feared for his life with her...I took her away and his memories and turned him into what I wanted him to be. And then it got him killed anyway. Perhaps I was wrong," George lamented.

"You can't be serious...it was your idea to keep them apart," she reminded him.

"It was and if Zeus knew what we did, he would have struck us both down," George said.

"Zeus is dead...we will have no interference from him," Blue replied.

"No…James is happy and I won't interfere with that again," he refused.

"And if he finds out what we did...he'll hate you!" Blue warned.

"You promised my Kingdom prosperity if I helped you. Instead, I destroyed my son's life and lost my Kingdom to his twin brother and Princess Snow White," he called.

"In time...James may be able to forgive me if I attempt to make amends and tell them everything. But you...well, I suspect the Goddess will send you to the Underworld for everything you did, because you did unspeakable things to Aphrodite long before my time," George warned.

"Well...then I guess I have to make sure you can't tell your son our secrets. It's not like he or anyone else will miss you," Blue said savagely, as she struck the elder King with the magic of the wand. His face was alight with surprise, as he fell dead to the floor. Opal cried out in horror and was stunned by Blue's cruelty.

"Help me put him back in the cell," she snapped.

"You...you killed him," Opal uttered.

"He was a vegetable before. His death will be surprising to no one...unless you open your mouth," Blue replied, as they placed the body in the cell.

"The...the others were right about you," Opal cried. Blue sighed.

"And here I was hoping that I could count on you," she said. Opal didn't have time to scream, before the magic of her own wand hit her and stopped her heart.

"Now to make this look like an accident," Blue muttered, as she used the wand that was now hers to poof the body away. She then used the wand to disappear. She was certain now that no one would discover her secrets.

~*~

The sheets rose and fell, as the bodies underneath were entangled in the throes of lovemaking. Snow lay atop her husband, kissing him deeply and riding him in a sensual dance that had them lost in ecstasy. After leaving Andresia, they had enjoyed dinner at Granny's with their kids, before bringing Bobby and Summer home with them to their castle. They got their excited kids settled for the night and then were left their own devices, which as usual, led to amorous activities. They were glad to lose themselves in each other, for tomorrow morning, they would board the Jolly Roger and make good on their promise to work with Major Donovan. And facing a world that knew about them and who they were was not at all appealing. But as always, they would face it together.

As they collapsed together, David kissed her forehead and then rolled them over so she was beneath him, as he proceeded to kiss her again amidst the afterglow.

"So beautiful…" he rasped, as he kissed her throat and moved his way down, with her body writhing with every touch of his lips. The trembling in their bodies started to calm and Charming pulled himself from her depths, before settling beside her. Her green eyes flicked to his blue ones, as she remained facing him and pressed tightly against him.

"Are you worried about tomorrow?" Snow asked.

"A little…" he replied, as he kissed her palm

"But I think I'm more worried about what I found today," he admitted.

"Then the body you found...you didn't say so earlier, but you think Jekyll killed this person," she stated.

"I know he did...and probably just to send me a message. I found a snowdrop on the body," he revealed and she sobered at that.

"I feel like a failure...but I suppose that's exactly what he wants me to feel," he lamented.

"You are not a failure...you're my hero. You always are," she insisted.

"I know...I just don't know how I'm ever going to relax until I know he's dead and can never hurt you again," he replied.

"And you will. We defeated Seth and that's why he's hiding, probably holed up in some lab somewhere like the snake he is. He knows that facing you head on is an impossible win for him," she reminded him.

"Which is why he's experimenting with who knows what kinds of concoctions or drugs. The thought of him using something to torment you...I can't sit still," he said.

"And I worry about the same for you. I worry that he will use one of his drugs or creations to hurt you without even touching you," she replied.

"It's exactly what he wants," he realized.

"It is and though we won't be able to completely rest with him out there, I know we are both trusting in our love and really sticking it to him by being together and happy," she reasoned. He smiled and kissed her.

"I suppose you're right," he said. She smiled.

"I am in bed with my handsome husband, my Prince Charming, who just made incredible, passionate love to me and left me breathless and took me to the stars; something only he, being you, will ever do," she replied.

"And now, he's holding me in his arms and there is never anywhere else that I feel the most safe than his arms, he being you," she added.

"Our heart, that we share, beats in sync and my soul is entwined with yours. We're unbreakable...our love cannot be torn asunder. It's not possible and that's how I know peace," she said.

"Have faith...guess I need to take my own advice," he replied.

"Mmm...that's not the only thing I want you to take," she purred, as she hook her leg on his hip and watched his eyes glaze, as his body reacted to hers.

"Well...then I better not disappoint you, my darling," he said, as he rolled her onto her back.

"Oh, that's not possible with you, my love," she said fondly and then knew nothing but sheer pleasure and passion once again.

~*~

"And if you're just joining us, the world is still reeling from recent revelations that we are not alone in this world and no, we aren't talking about beings from another planet. We are talking about people from other places, whether you want to call it alternate dimension or universes, these people are those, until three days ago, that we thought to be fiction. Most of them were found in fairy tales, legends, and myths. And it's all been in this book," the reporter said, as she held up a white paperback book with the words Once Upon a Time emblazoned on it.

"Once Upon a Time, which was published more than seven years ago by a mysterious Henry Swan, is not the work of fiction it appears to be. We still have too many questions to name and our heads are still reeling from the battle just a few days ago. A battle where we saw magic and fairy tale characters save the world. While they are hardly the conventional super heroes we are used to seeing, the world is quite obsessed, whether it is with love or hate," she continued.

"According to various social media outlets and conspiracy theorists, who have now become the voice of reason, the leaders of these mysterious people will walk among us tomorrow. Word has it that they will arrive in Boston to meet with leaders of our country and the FBI. People are already in the streets to either welcome them or protest against them. Rest assured, no matter your views, we will be there to cover this historic event,"

At that point, the man listening to the broadcast muted the television and sipped at his expensive brandy. He was tall, with slicked back brown hair and chiseled features and hazel eyes.

"You've had the news on twenty-four seven for three days. They keep recycling the same story," a woman mentioned, as she entered. She was a beautiful blonde, with blue eyes and dressed in cargo pants and a khaki button down shirt.

"Digging in the dirt again?" he teased, noticing her dusty appearance.

"It was worth it. The jade I managed to get is a small fortune alone," she mentioned, as he poured her a drink and she accepted.

"Yes...another Jade mask and more ancient relics. The envy of any explorer...yet all the true treasures lay just out of our reach," he said angrily, as he finished his drink.

"Relax…" she chided.

"How can I? Even with this exposure, they are out of my reach! And it's my legacy!" he said. She sighed.

"That legacy and that collection is ultimately what got your father killed...both times," she reminded him.

"I don't need reminding or a lecture. All the reminder is right there," he hissed, as he pointed to the television that was showing various images of the two people known as David and Margaret Nolan, whom the world had just discovered were actually Snow White and Prince Charming. True loves, saviors of the world...and the reason for his father's demise, both times.

"The treasures from my father's collection...nothing in this world can compare to what's in Storybrooke," he lamented.

"Well, I'm no stranger to a good heist. We've done plenty of them, but we're talking a place with magic. We'd never make it past town square, let alone get to the Atlantis museum," she mentioned.

"True, but we would have a better chance if I had access to my legacy; my father's operation, which rests in that woman's hands," he said, pointing at the television, which now had an image of Major General Patricia Donovan, senior military official and FBI insider.

"So you still think she killed your sister?" the blonde asked.

"It's the only way she would have ever gained access to my father's operation. Cecily would have never just given it to her. No...she's the first step in getting back what's mine," he said.

"Then I guess we're going to Boston. Can I at least shower first?" she asked. He smirked at her.

"Sure...but you're a vision even like this," he replied. She rolled her eyes at that.

"You just want sex later," she retorted, as she made her way to the bathroom.

"Guilty," he agreed, as she went into the bathroom and he picked up his phone.

"Fuel the jet and tell the pilot we are leaving for Boston within the hour," he said to his assistant.

"Of course, Mr. Clayton. Just you and Ms. Zearing?" the assistant questioned.

"Yes...just the two of us," he replied, as he hung up and poured another drink.

~*~

The Jolly Roger made port in Boston that morning about nine, making the mere two hour journey from the United Realms. Thankfully, Patricia must have managed to make some kind of agreement with the Coastguard, because they were not chased into the Harbor this time. But the docks were crowded with spectators of all kinds, including apparent fans and protesters. The police were keeping them back at a safe distance, but the whole scene was surreal and a bit frightening.

On this trip, all five of their kids had come with them, plus Killian, Xander, Regina, Robin, Roland, Rumple, Belle, and Gideon. Everyone else had stayed behind for now, as they really had no idea how any of this was going to go. But by the looks of the crowd, the hype over them was definitely not going away anytime soon. Nora and JJ had accompanied them as well, as Boston was their home, though such would probably not remain that way for long.

"You're kind of famous it seems," JJ teased lightly and Summer smirked.

"Oh goody...that's going to be so much fun," she commented.

"Well, the fans have to be better than the haters, right?" he asked. She snorted.

"I wish...the fans can be worse. Trust me, my parents get way too much attention from both haters and fans. The haters usually just spout their hate verbally, but never much else, with a few exceptions. But the fans turn into stalkers like Drizella Tremaine and Dr. Jekyll," she replied. He nodded.

"Good point," he agreed.

"Ugh...look at those idiots. A bunch of bored housewives obsessed with a phony love story," Nora said.

"Phony?" Summer asked sharply. Nora smirked.

"Don't both defending your parents true love, sweet cheeks, because it's all a farce or it should be," Nora said.

"You may have come from true love, but I came from the opposite. One drunken night with two broken people, but because you came from true love, everyone believes you're special," she continued.

"But that kind of love doesn't belong in this world. Love may exist in the United Realms, but it doesn't out here. That's why you have bored housewives pining for something they'll never have. It's sad," Nora said.

"Love is not sad. My parents give people hope," Summer argued.

"Hope is a lie and their love is unattainable by most, yet people celebrate them. But some of us know the truth. That your world and this world will never mesh. Your world doesn't belong in this one," Nora said.

"Well, we're here so deal with it," Summer retorted.

"Oh I know...you've stolen my cousin from me. The only family I have," Nora replied.

"She hasn't stolen me, Nora," JJ snapped.

"Oh, so you're not moving to magic town?" Nora questioned and he went silent. She scoffed.

"That's what I thought. See you around," she said, as she left.

"I'm sorry," Summer said.

"Don't be...this is nothing new with her," he replied, as he walked down the gangplank and then offered his hand to help her. She smiled and accepted it.

"This is insane," David commented, as he hopped down from the gangplank and then held Snow's hand, before lifting her down, which seemed to make some of the crowd go crazy.

"Why are they so excited?" he wondered and she smiled at his obliviousness.

"Well...you're Prince Charming and you just did a very Charming thing," she replied.

"What? Helping you down?" he asked.

"Why wouldn't I?" he added.

"Well, you would, because you're you and I hit the lottery in the husband department. A lot of women don't. For many people in this land, romance and love fade over time. But you and I never leave the honeymoon faze," she explained fondly, as she nuzzled her nose against his.

"My love and passion for you will never fade," he promised, as he kissed her and that seemed to make the crowd go crazy too. Which annoyed him.

"Yeah…that won't be annoying or anything," he said, as she chuckled and hooked her hand on his elbow, just as Patricia approached.

"Oh, this is funny to you?" he asked. She chuckled.

"A bit…" she admitted.

"Please tell me we're not having a meeting here," he said.

"Don't worry...I have cars waiting to take us to the Boston headquarters," she said, as they all got into the cars and arrived at headquarters shortly.

David had been there before obviously, but the last time he was, he didn't have his memories. So walking in and receiving stares from former co-workers was unnerving to say the least.

"I feel like we all have giant heads or something the way they're staring," Killian muttered to Emma. She smiled.

"Yeah…I hate the attention and I know dad does too, but at the same time, I want to know how this woman got access to Clayton's entire operation," she whispered back. He snorted.

"Probably not legally. I know your parents are above doing anything shady and we love them for that, but I think if we have the opportunity to get it all back, then we do it and lock the world out," he mentioned.

"I've already talked to Gold and it's definitely on the table. Mom and Dad will agree if they see a threat. They're ready to protect the United Realms," she assured.

"I don't doubt that, love...we just know they have a habit of being very forgiving as well," he warned.

"I know...but I think they've come to terms with their darker halves too. I don't think they'll be as apt to ignore them now," she said.

"Fair point," he agreed, as they followed the Major into the conference room and she shut the door.

"Before we go further...there's one thing I need to know," David stated.

"Ask away," Patricia replied.

"Did Cecily Clayton die so you could get access to Clayton's operation?" David asked.

"She did, but she was far from innocent and I didn't hesitate putting a bullet in her skull and feeding her the alligators," she replied bluntly.

"Oh my God…" Snow cried.

"I know that is blunt and cold, but trust me...I did you a favor by getting rid of her. She would have been out for full fledged revenge on all of you, especially you two," Patricia warned.

"Maybe...but it's hard to trust you when you've committed cold blooded murder," David replied. She smirked.

"And yet you trust the pirate, the queen, and the dark one implicitly," she countered.

"Bloody hell...she has you there," Killian quipped, earning him a nudge from Emma.

"Okay fine...but they've earned our trust over time. You have yet to do that so let's be up front. What do you want from us?" David asked, as they all took seats.

"When I first took over Clayton's operation, my goal was to gather information. That's what I do for this country. I gather Intel. But I soon realized that Clayton's operation goes far deeper than just his collection of magical items and beings," she replied.

"You mean the network of investors he spoke about and that we met when we were captive in Atlantis," Snow said. Patricia nodded.

"Clayton is dead, but his network is very much alive," she said.

"We know Cecily was smuggling ancient artifacts for his museum in Seattle," David replied.

"Oh, but it's much more than that. His investors come from all walks of life. They're embedded everywhere and now that your existence has come to light, they will do what they must to keep their secretive dealings a secret," she said, as she pressed a remote and the screen lit up with a ton of Intel and information.

"Illegal smuggling of artifacts is just the beginning. He had dealings with human traffickers, arms dealers, drug cartels, prostitution rings, and this world's worst scum," she said.

"And you want us to help take down Clayton's operation?" Xander asked.

"Yes...and you of all people know how dangerous he really was," she replied, as their eyes met in a cool stare.

"Now that everything's out in the open, I'm almost certain they'll try to get into the United Realms and someone will want everything in that museum. But we all know they won't stop there," she said.

"It's Atlantis all over again. They want their playground back and we're their toys," David said. She nodded.

"Where do we even start?" Regina asked. Patricia pressed a button on the remote and the image of a man appeared on screen.

"With Clayton's son…" she revealed, shocking them all...

[mdelpin]

The Red Dragon - Chapter 23

AO3 | FF.Net | Tumblr: Ch1 | Ch22 @ao3feed-gratsu

After Natsu had left him without any explanation, Gray had spent all of his free time searching the woods for any signs of him. He could feel through their bond that Natsu wasn’t far, but no matter how hard he looked, he could never seem to find the elusive dragon slayer.

He’d even ventured towards the dragon slayers cave once, figuring Natsu must surely be there, but he lost his courage when he heard the noises coming from inside. Loud roars and heavy dragging sounds accompanied by scuffles, obviously belonging to multiple creatures, led him to believe some of the dragons might have returned as well. An image of Atlas covered in hellfire was all he needed to turn himself back around.

He was having a hard time cataloging his emotions. On the one hand, he now knew for a fact that his mate was alive, and that made him incredibly relieved. On the other, he was frustrated that he had no idea what was going on. Why was Natsu hiding from him? Where had he gone? More importantly, and the one question that kept him up at night, what had happened to make Natsu so reticent and full of despair?

His mind, which had already been filled with questions relating to his missing memories, was now even more overloaded, and a part of him began to wonder if the two things could somehow be connected. He’d heard a voice when he’d woken up in the field, a familiar voice that had asked for his forgiveness. Could that have been Natsu?

The uncertainty continued to gnaw at him, and after a particularly long day of training and patroling, he found himself drawn to the lake. It wasn’t a place he often visited, much preferring their field, but it was peaceful, so he sat down and stared out at the water while his fingers did their usual dance with the fringes of Natsu’s scarf. He had no idea how long he’d been sitting there when he felt someone sit next to him.

He didn’t bother glancing to see who it was, automatically assuming it was Lyon. Gray had made the mistake of telling him everything that had happened between him and Natsu during the summer solstice, thinking that Lyon would be happy for him.

He now had undeniable proof that Natsu was alive, but Lyon had been furious. He was determined that Natsu had used him and then disappeared, adamantly refusing to listen to any of Gray’s claims to the contrary.

It was only in the last few days that they’d begun to talk again, but it was still awkward, and he was too tired to deal with it now, so he remained silent.

“I see you’ve found my thinking spot,” Erza remarked, smiling at him warmly when he startled at her words.

“It’s nice here,” Gray replied simply.

“It is,” Erza agreed, working her hair into a ponytail as the wind began to work at it, “I like to come here to think about my mom.”

“It’s hard not to know, isn’t it?”

Gray nodded, absently playing with his scarf once again.

Erza studied him briefly before asking in a kind voice, “Does Natsu know how you feel about him?”

She chuckled as he blinked at her, his features settling into a shocked expression before blurting out, “Did Lyon tell you?”

“No, Lyon would never betray your confidence, not even to me,” Erza assured him, remaining quiet for a few moments, eyebrows furrowing in thought before finally explaining.

“When I saw how upset you were when Natsu left, I first thought the two of you had become very close friends. After all this time, though, the only reason I could think of for you to continue carrying on this way was if you were in love with him. Then it was just a question of thinking back to how you acted around him.”

Erza’s eyes twinkled at his bewildered expression, and she asked again, “So, does he know? “

Gray thought about denying it, but the truth was now that he knew Natsu was alive; he saw no point in it, “He does.”

“I don’t understand why you felt the need to hide it, it’s not like you’re the only ones. Sting and Rogue, my mother and Anna, and I’ve seen a few other couples around town. There’s no shame in it.”

“You mom and Anna?” Gray thought back to another time they’d sat at the lake, suddenly understanding what Erza had been trying to tell him. “I didn’t realize.”

He thought about how to explain his feelings in a way that would make sense, but he knew a lot of it had been stupid superstition on his part, “We’d just gotten together before he left. We never got a chance to discuss it, and then I felt like if others knew, he might not make it back. It was stupid.”

Erza grabbed his hand and squeezed it sympathetically, “No, I understand that quite well, actually. I’m sorry for all the Juvia business,” her expression was sheepish as she apologized, “I just wanted you to come alive again, but I should have talked to you instead of trying to force something on you that you clearly didn’t want.”

“It’s fine,” Gray dismissed her apology, now that Juvia was content to be his friend he’d rather not remember how things used to be between them.

“I was, uhm, actually looking for you,” Erza stammered nervously, “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Erza’s cheeks rivaled her hair, and that alone was enough to grab Gray’s interest. Erza rarely acted this way, so he assumed whatever she wanted to talk to him about must be related to his brother.

“Lyon asked me to marry him last night.”

“He did?! That’s amazing, when’s the wedding?” Gray managed an honest smile for his friend, pleased that his brother had finally gotten the balls to ask her and surprised that he hadn’t mentioned it.

“I told him I needed some time,” Erza blushed again, “I wanted to make sure you were okay with it before I gave him my answer. I know you need him right now, and I don’t want to get in the way of that.”

Gray was incredibly touched by the gesture, but it made him sad to think that the two people closest to him would put their own future on hold for his sake.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you never know what’s going to happen. If you get a chance at happiness you need to grab it before it can be wrested away from you. I know you know that too.”

“I’ve known Lyon most of my life, and I’ve never seen him as happy as he is when he’s with you.”

Erza tried to hide her smile, but it shone through all the way to her eyes, “Thank you.”

Gray enveloped her in a heartfelt hug, “I hope he makes you as happy as you do him.”

“He does,” Now that she was sure of her decision, Erza’s entire face radiated joy, and Gray could feel some of it rubbing off on him.

Erza was a beautiful woman, both inside and out, with a will of steel and a heart big enough to hold the entire town in. Lyon really was quite lucky, and Gray was pleased for him.

“And if he ever gets out of line, I will gladly beat him up for you,” Gray cracked his knuckles in demonstration.

“I can handle that myself,” Erza replied, eyes blazing with confidence.

“Oh, I know, but it would be fun for me,” Gray laughed, the first real one he’d managed in weeks. He’d been debating whether to tell her about seeing Natsu or not, but now that they were sort of having a moment, he felt she should know. The dragonslayers had been her friends first, after all.

Gray peered down at his hands, not sure how Erza was going to react to what he was about to say. “I uhm, I saw Natsu a few weeks ago.”

“You did?” Erza’s excitement was unmistakable, “Were the others with him? Are they okay? Did he say anything about my mom?”

“I couldn’t get much of anything out of him before he took off again,” Gray admitted, “Only that the others are all alive, but I think some of them might be hurt. He uh, he had a lot of scars, some of them looked pretty bad.” He could hear the way his voice was trembling, and this time it was Erza who was hugging him.

“Natsu is strong, it’s not just his magic, it’s his will,” Erza reminded him, “No matter what he has to go through, he will find his way back to you in the end. I know it.”

“And when he does, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind,” Erza fumed comically, “I can’t believe he didn’t tell me that date was with you!”

And in the blink of an eye, she beamed at him, “He did say it was perfect, though!”

Gray could only marvel at her response, but it was enough to lift his spirits somewhat. Erza was right. Something was obviously going on with Natsu that he needed to sort out before he could return to Talos for good. As much as it irked Gray to be kept out of it, he would just have to trust that Natsu knew what he was doing. He just wished the idiot wasn’t so reckless, though.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the sunset, neither one noticing Lyon watching them from a distance, a pleased smile on his lips at seeing the two people he loved the most sharing a moment.

0-0

The Village Guard had spent a lot of time and resources on putting the village back together after the attack of the black dragon. In doing so, they had neglected some of their regular duties. That, coupled with the decrease of the number of red dragons in the area due to the war, had allowed the Vulcan population to grow unchecked, which in turn had begun to attract larger predators, hungry for a substantial meal.

More and more Gray and the others spent their time tracking and hunting Vulcans, trying to keep their numbers away from Talos, but no matter how many they killed, more seemed to show up in ever greater numbers.

Gray and Juvia were patrolling the area near the mountains. Gray was only half listening to Juvia chatter on about how beautiful the colors of the changing leaves were when he heard a loud noise through the trees, getting closer at a fast rate.

A group of Vulcans ran towards them, and Gray and Juvia readied to fight, but the Vulcans raced past, paying them no mind as they screeched in palpable fear.

That’s when Gray heard the much more disturbing noise, as a giant creature flew past them, the flapping of its mighty wings causing some of the colorful leaves to fall prematurely from the trees. To their horror, both recognized the shape of a dragon flying overhead towards the town.

Without a word, both mages raced toward Talos, hoping to get there in time to help the other guards fight off the creatures, with Gray creating a trail of ice to speed up their progress. He tracked the dragon’s flight, noticing it was smaller than the sampling of red dragons he had seen.

There was no time to heed his growing fear, all he could think about was reaching Lyon in time. He tried to attack the Vulcans with some of his ice spells to attempt to distract them or, at the very least, redirect them away from Talos, but they were moving too erratically.

Soon Talos came into view, and he heard the alarm going off. The town engaged in the type of chaos that can only be created by people who are in a state of panic. Adults collected children, dragging them to the guard headquarters, which was the safest place in the village. Guards running towards the town entrance donning weapons and regrouping at the request of Erza’s barked orders.

Gray and Juvia finally entered the village and took their places next to the other mages. All their regular fighters engaged the Vulcans even as the dragon loomed overhead. Gray could feel eyes on him and turned to see both Lyon and Erza watching him worriedly.

The sound of a child’s scared cries was followed by Anna screaming out a name in desperation. Gray’s eyes widened when he spied a young boy, one he vaguely remembered seeing running around town, outside the town’s walls.

Memories of Isvan clamored for his attention, but he refused to let them paralyze him. Without a thought to his own safety, he ran towards the boy, wanting to protect him as his parents had done for him. He could hear Lyon, Erza, and Juvia screaming out his name, but he kept running.

He peered up at the dragon, seeing it had begun to dive towards the boy, its talons searching for the tender flesh. Gray molded an ice bow, using it to shoot arrow after arrow at the creature, but with what almost passed as a grin, the dragon opened its mouth and unleashed an attack with his breath weapon, and Gray found himself on the receiving end of his own element.

He managed to tackle the boy, covering him with his body while creating a cocoon of ice around them to try to deflect as much of the attack as he could. He could hear Lyon screaming his name, right before molding his snow dragon to fight against the ice dragon. The fear in his voice making Gray wince guiltily.

Checking on the boy and finding him unhurt, Gray dispelled his ice, grabbing him in his arms and running back through the entrance as fast as he could. He peered at the sky, wanting to know where the dragon was and seeing Erza hovering in mid-air, requipped into her Heaven’s Wheel armor, one of her prettier ones in his opinion. A large circle of swords surrounding her, all pointing toward the dragon.

Juvia was also attacking the dragon with her water slicer spell, but none of their attacks seemed to be doing anything. Gray got the boy back to Anna, who hugged him so tightly in her relief, he almost collapsed to the ground.

He watched with dismay as the dragon readied his breath weapon against Erza, who was in the middle of requipping to a different armor. He attempted to scream out a warning, but before he could open his mouth, he was distracted by a red blur that was advancing at an alarming pace.

He blinked his eyes quickly, trying to get a better look at the object which had materialized into a red dragon, one that placed itself in between the ice dragon and Erza.

“Move back!” the dragon growled at Erza, who looked as perplexed as Gray felt, although she complied, coming down to stand by Lyon, who was checking her frantically for any injuries even as she waved him away.

The red dragon butted heads with the ice dragon, his arms reaching out to grapple with the smaller dragon. He breathed a cone of fire into his face hot enough to make the ice dragon howl in pain.

“The Dragon King has decreed this village and all the humans in it to be under the protection of the red dragons,” the red dragon hissed, “Leave, now.”

Although the dragon had not uttered a threat, the implication was unmistakable.

Lyon, Gray, Juvia, and Erza stared at each other in shock, trying to understand what was happening.

The ice dragon didn’t seem pleased with the outcome of his attack. However, it backed down against the might of the more massive dragon, grabbing one of the Vulcans that were still fighting the other guards in its talons before flying off in the opposite direction, the Vulcan still struggling and screeching in its grasp. The red dragon followed them, flying away from Talos without speaking another word.

Juvia’s eyes were glued to the red dragon, her mouth open in disbelief.

“What is it?” Lyon asked.

“That’s the same dragon that fought the black dragon,” Juvia announced.

“Are you sure, Juvia?” Erza asked.

Juvia nodded, “Juvia is sure, it had the same scars. That is the dragon that saved Gray and took him away.”

Gray could feel a headache coming on, he still refused to believe what had happened, attributing it to Juvia’s overactive imagination, even though he had no other explanation for how he had gotten to the field while injured.

“What did he mean about the Dragon King?” Lyon wondered out loud.

Gray shrugged, suddenly feeling overcome by exhaustion as all his actions in the last twenty minutes caught up to him. He allowed himself to collapse where he stood, and the others did the same.

“I have no idea,” Erza replied, her brow furrowed in thought, “but it seems I was correct in my assumptions, the red dragons have been protecting Talos all these years, and now it seems like they are back.”

“Are you alright, Gray?” Juvia asked, noticing he’d withdrawn from the conversation.

“Just great,” he responded with a definite edge to his voice.

“This could be good news,” Erza remarked, “If the dragons have returned, maybe the others will too.”

“Let’s hope so,” Lyon said before lying back on the grass with a groan, “I hate to admit it, but that red dragon has saved our asses twice now. Ugh, it’s not even noon, and I’m already exhausted.”

Erza and Juvia agreed that it was indeed lucky that the dragon had interceded on their behalf.

The others continued their chatter, and Gray ignored them, lost in his own thoughts. Natsu had said most of the dragons were gone from this world, yet they had seen more dragons in Talos since the dragon slayers had left to fight in the war than ever before.

Natsu had clearly said that his wounds had been caused by other people. What did that mean? Had he been fighting those renegade dragonslayers that he’d talked about before he left? Is that why he’d had to go again, were they still fighting? But if that were true, then why were the dragons back? No matter how much Gray analyzed the little information he had, it made no sense to him. Could Natsu be trying to protect him somehow? Was he afraid those same renegade dragon slayers would follow him to Talos?

Then there was Juvia’s observation. As much as he wanted to deny it, Gray couldn’t help but think that the red dragon had information he wanted, no needed. If it had fought in the war, which seemed likely given its scars, maybe he had information about Natsu.

If nothing else, maybe the dragon could tell him why he had ended up in the field and who else had been there with him. The idea of searching for the dragon was not one he was very keen on, but he was tired of having only questions. Besides, it had said all the people who lived in Talos were under the protection of the red dragons, so he should have nothing to fear. Right?

0-0

As rational as his little pep talk had sounded in his head, it still took Gray several days to get the courage to go looking for the mysterious red dragon. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t terrified.

No matter how many times he conjured up images of Happy embracing Natsu to try to soothe him; or reminded himself that the dragon had said they were all under its protection, he still couldn’t help but think that what he was doing was insane.

Dragons killed people. He knew that better than anyone. Thoughts of Happy were quickly replaced by images of Deliora and Atlas, and he almost turned back, but then he remembered the despair in Natsu’s eyes and let that image bolster his resolve. Natsu trusted the red dragons, and so he would try to as well.

He arrived at the beginning of the path the dragon slayers had traveled daily, taking a deep breath before following it up the mountain. He strained his ears, trying to pick up any noise that might tell him where the dragon might be and hoping against hope that he wouldn’t be inside the cave with the others. Gray wasn’t sure he could handle that.

It was a crisp fall day, full of sunshine and cold weather, the combination making for a pleasant hike with breathtaking views of the changing foliage below. He continued climbing until he reached a path he wasn’t familiar with.

After some deliberation, he decided to follow it, curious as to where it led. He followed the path for about thirty minutes through increasingly rougher terrain, almost deciding to turn around when he found what looked to be an entrance to a cave, complete with a large ledge that jutted out from the side of the mountain. On this ledge lay a sizeable red dragon who appeared to be sleeping in the sun, much like a regular lizard.

Gray wasn’t dumb enough to wake it, so he decided to sit down on a flat rock, as far away as the ledge allowed and wait for the dragon to wake on its own. He examined the creature from the safety of his spot, fascinated by the number of scars that littered the parts of its body that he could see, several looking severe enough to be life-threatening. He could instantly see why Juvia would recognize it. Once seen, those scars were not easily forgotten.

This was a dragon that had been in many fights. The fact that he had managed to survive them all spoke of his fierceness and determination. Or maybe like his mate, he was just too stubborn to know when to give up. The thought brought a wry smile to Gray’s face that was quickly followed by a longing so intense it almost made him cry out.

The dragon shifted in his sleep, muttering uncomfortably, and for a moment, Gray thought he saw a red glow coming from the dragon’s claws, but he soon forgot all about it as a sense of peace soothed away his previous distress.

He shifted slightly, trying to keep his limbs from falling asleep in case he had to make a quick escape. His body tensing as the dragon moved once again. This time opening its eyes and sniffing the air before scrambling into an upright position with a speed that was almost comical. Until you remembered it was a giant dragon.

Its bright green eyes fixed on Gray as it remarked gruffly, “What are you doing here?”

Gray’s mouth dried up, and his mind immediately went blank, his initial courage disappearing as he began considering his life choices. That was until he felt a warmth on his chest and looked down to see that his necklace was glowing brightly, something he’d never noticed it do before.

What the hell?

That was enough to break him from his panicked state. Gray noticed the dragon staring at his necklace with interest.

“Why is it doing that?” Gray asked, somehow knowing that the dragon would know.

“I have no idea,” the dragon responded, but he looked away, making Gray think he wasn’t being entirely truthful.

“Well, it’s never done it before,” Gray insisted.

The dragon remained silent, but its eyes never left Gray.

Gray was beginning to get irritated, “I wanted to thank you for saving my friend the other day,” he managed through clenched teeth, wanting to work his way up to his real questions.

“I didn’t do it for you,” the dragon shrugged, “as I said, Talos is under our protection. Why are you really here?”

“What is your problem?” Gray snapped testily.

The dragon’s eyes widened, and it muttered something under its breath before remarking, “Don’t most humans dislike dragons?”

This time it was Gray who looked away. “Fine, you’re right, I didn’t come all the way up here to thank you, I wanted to ask you some questions.”

The dragon seemed to think about it for a bit before responding, “Ask your questions then.”

“Do I look familiar to you?”

The dragon startled but answered honestly, “You are the human Acnologia attempted to kill some moons ago.”

“Why did you save me?” Gray asked anxiously.

The dragon shrugged, not giving the question much importance, “You were hurt and smelled of dragon.”

“I smelled like a dragon?”

The dragon nodded, “Yes, I flew you to safety and healed what I could. If that is all, I must go.”

“No, wait!” Gray exclaimed hurriedly, afraid the dragon would leave before he was able to ask the question he most wanted answered. “Natsu Dragneel, the fire dragon slayer, do you know where he is?”

The dragon blinked at him, his bright green eyes dimming before he lowered his head, “That I cannot tell you.”

“Please, I’m his mate, surely you can tell me something! Is he in danger?” Gray pleaded, desperate to know any detail, no matter how small.

The dragon remained stubbornly silent, and Gray began to feel the worry consume him again. What did this dragon know about his mate?

“Natsu Dragneel is assisting the Dragon King,” the dragon finally explained. “The best thing for you to do is to forget him. He can never return to you.”

“That’s not true!” Gray protested, he just wished the words didn’t sound so empty, “Natsu will always come when I need him, he’s told me that many times!”

“Do you need him now? Cause I don’t see him anywhere.” the dragon was gazing at him with what seemed almost like pity.

“You don’t know anything!”

“From when I stand, you’re the one who seems to be in the dark. Forget him, human. Move on. Dragneel will cause you nothing but pain.”

“Please,” Gray begged, hating how pathetic he sounded but not caring if it got him what he wanted. “Please tell me what you know.”

Silence was his only response.

“Natsu was wrong about dragons,” Gray spat out, “you are heartless after all.”

“I’m sorry,” the dragon said before taking to the air and flying away from him. If Gray hadn’t known better, he would have sworn the dragon had looked sad.

As ready as Gray was to hate the dragon for its callousness, those words rang too familiar for him to ignore. He’d heard them from that very same voice once before. And while he was disappointed to discover Natsu had not been there, a bigger question remained. Why had the dragon felt the need to apologize to him in the first place?

He sat alone for several hours waiting for the dragon to return, using the time to think over what it had said, and the strange way it had acted. Gray was somewhat surprised to realize that even though he had disliked it, and had wanted to throttle it on instinct, he’d still never felt the urge to attack it.

0-0

Gray couldn’t pinpoint when it had started, he vaguely remembered seeing a likeness of the dragon drawn with red chalk on a shop window. Soon other shops followed suit. Then the townspeople began leaving tokens of food outside the wall as an offering, hoping to ensure the red dragon’s continued protection. He’d even heard the Talos elders were already planning some sort of festival for the summer solstice dedicated to the creature.

It was almost impossible to walk around town without bumping into kids pretending to be dragons, arms flapping as they ran in pretend flight. Juvia and Erza thought it was adorable, the latter even telling stories of how Sting would do something similar when he was a child with Natsu and Rogue never far behind.

Now that she knew about their relationship, she’d begun sharing stories of Natsu’s exploits whenever she noticed Gray struggling with his emotions, knowing it never failed to put a smile on his face. Gray wasn’t sure if she was just oblivious to Lyon’s scowls at those times or if she just chose to ignore him, but either way, he was grateful for her efforts. It kept Natsu near even when he felt so far away.

He was tired of not knowing if Natsu was alive or dead, of the constant worry and fear, and although he knew it wasn’t fair, he couldn’ t help but think that the happy moments in their relationship had been few and far between.

He knew that wasn’t Natsu’s fault. He couldn’t help his situation. On days when Gray was feeling generous he even somewhat understood the impossibility of the choice his mate had been forced to make. But there were other days, ones where his darkness was at the forefront when he wondered if it was all worth it. If perhaps the dragon hadn’t been right all along and it was better to just let go rather than continuing this destructive pattern that Gray knew was tearing both of them apart. He tried to fight it as best he could, but it was getting harder every day.

It certainly didn’t help that the damn dragon seemed to be everywhere. It flew over the town daily, often rewarding the children’s happy cries with involved aerial shows, which as much a Gray hated to admit, even he enjoyed. The dragon’s scarlet scales glinted prettily in the sun as it moved gracefully in the sky before flying back towards the mountain.

Gray knew everyone loved the dragon, heck even the other guards seemed to like it, so he kept his opinions to himself. Until the dragon managed to do something so unforgivable in his eyes that he could no longer remain quiet. When Gray arrived at their field, the one that he felt belonged to him and Natsu, he found the red dragon already there, surrounded by the town’s children.

The children talked eagerly, asking the dragon all manner of questions, and unlike his own experience, the dragon was actually answering. If that wasn’t bad enough, they had begun to climb on it, squealing happily as they used its large body as a climbing toy while Anna watched from a safe distance. The dragon smiled, seeming content with the children’s play.

Maybe it was the smile that proved to be too much, but Gray found he’d had enough of this ridiculous dragon fever the whole town had succumbed to. The wretched creature had the nerve to invade his field, and it needed to leave.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Gray raged at the dragon, not caring about the surprised looks he was getting from the children, who had never seen him upset before.

He addressed them as well, “Get down from there!”

“Aww, Gray,” the kids complained, “Why? We’re having fun, and Anna said it was okay.”

“Because it’s not a playmate, it’s a vicious creature.”

He could see the dragon huff angrily, and once again, he felt the necklace warm-up, distracting him for a moment from his rant, but when he looked down, it seemed dimmer than he remembered. Before he had a chance to wonder about this, Anna stepped in to humor him.

“Alright children, listen to Gray, he’s a guard and just wants to make sure you are safe. Besides, its time for your afternoon snack,” Anna reminded them cheerily.

The children cheered at this news, climbing down carefully and waving goodbye to the dragon as they ran back towards the village, all promising to play again soon, much to Gray’s dismay.

“Do you have something against me in particular or just fun in general?” the dragon demanded, surprising Gray with its terse tone.

“I don’t trust you,” Gray enunciated each word, squaring his shoulders and feeling his magic respond to his unstable emotions, creating an icy mist around his fingers in preparation for his molding.

“Therefore, I don’t want innocent children around you. What if you took one home to eat or something.”

“I would never do that!” the dragon protested, and Gray could feel the air around it becoming hotter as it became angry.

“Right, cause dragons don’t do that sort of thing,” Gray retorted sarcastically.

“Don’t stand there looking all high and mighty, you don’t know the first thing about dragons, Gray,” the dragon seethed.

“We’re on a first-name basis now?” Gray raised an eyebrow, for some reason enjoying getting a rise out of the dragon, “And what pray tell, should I call you?”

The dragon remained stubbornly silent, and Gray pushed further, “What’s the matter, too stupid to know your own name?”

“Fuck you!”

“Rather unorthodox, wouldn’t you say?” Gray smirked, “But I can work with it. Fine, I’ll call you Fukou. Rather perfect actually, it means sorrow and misfortune, among other things.”

“I know what it means,” Fukou grumbled as he started at Gray unblinkingly.

“Well, then you’ll know I’m right, fukou is all you will ever bring to everyone you meet,” Gray sneered.

“You’re probably right,” Fukou acknowledged, “but I tried harder than you’ll ever know.” And with that, he took off, looking incredibly hurt.

And even though Gray now had full reign of the field like he’d wanted, he found no pleasure in it, suddenly feeling like the monster he’d accused the other of being.

A/N: I won't lie, I had been dreading this chapter and its companion also known as Chapter 24 from the moment I thought of this part of the story. I'd love to hear your thoughts on what you think is happening and where you think the story will go from here, so feel free to drop me a line.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Chaos Theory

Part Six

(Even after the disaster of the last part, there are more puzzles to solve. The three boys better hurry on this one, or else there will be consequences.)

They stopped only a few blocks away from the building, sitting on a street corner. Jackie made them stop, despite the fact that they all wanted to get farther away. He remembered the gamemaster’s warning about taking too long, and nerves started eating away at his stomach.

“Here, give me the laptop,” Jackie said. JJ handed him the box with the computer inside.

Chase watched as Jackie booted it up. “I...you know, I’m still not entirely sure what’s going on.” He sounded almost apologetic.

“We’re in Saw,” Jackie said, not taking his eyes away from the screen. “Some psycho decided to kidnap the group and threatened me with your deaths if I didn’t play his fucked-up game and solve his puzzles.”

Chase whistled. “Well, shit.”

“Yeah.” Jackie opened his email, finding another message from the same user as before. This one had a zip folder titled ‘Set 3′ attached. He quickly unzipped it, finding a few files inside: an image called 3.png, a folder called ‘3′, and a text file titled ‘open me first.’ Jackie did so, and inside was a single url. He opened the browser and copy-pasted the url into the search bar.

At first, the three of them found it hard to tell what they were looking at. The website was mostly black, with some white text, and a square that showed a dark video. Until they realized something was moving in the video. Jackie ran his hand through the box until he found the earbuds, plugging them into the laptop and putting them on. Suddenly, when he clicked the little sound icon on the video, he could hear the sound of rushing water and splashing, along with muffled cries and whimpers. His heart sank. “I’m gonna...” He turned up the brightness on the laptop.

Chase gasped. Jameson covered his mouth with his hand, eyes wide. Jackie leaned back. Marvin was in the video, bound and gagged. He was stuck inside a box with glass walls, small enough that he couldn’t straighten his legs. There was water slowly flowing into the box from a connected pipe. There was also a timer in the corner of the video, counting down: 55:12, 55:11, 55:10...

The time on the laptop’s clock read 3:03am.

“Is...is this live?” Chase asked.

“I think it is,” Jackie muttered.

“You can livestream shit like this?!” Chase shook his head. “Why haven’t the police—or whoever—why hasn’t someone stopped this?!”

“Well, firstly, because this video has probably only been active since tonight. And secondly, because you’d be surprised what goes up online.” Jackie leaned closer to the screen, looking around the website. “The Dark Web, you know? There are several sites that are like Twitch for sadists.” Unconsciously, he rubbed his left arm. “I don’t recognize this one, though.”

JJ snapped his fingers, drawing the other two’s attention. There is a timer in this video! he signed in obvious distress. And it’s counting down. I don’t think we want to find out what will happen when it reaches zero.

Jackie shoot his head. “You’re right. We need to hurry. My guess is that timer is how long it’ll take for that box to fill up with water, and then...” He shuddered, immediately closing the web page. “We have to find out where that is. And it’s going to be in the puzzles, just like before.”

He clicked on the 3.png image. It opened to a picture with a dark red background and black text reading: “SEEK THROUGH THE CATALOG, FIND WHAT’S BELOW.” The text was followed by that symbol of a skull inside a hollow circle, divided in four. Below the text were three black-and-white photographs with captions beneath them: a black wand with white ends labeled “Magic Wand,” a spread-out deck of cards labelled “Card Game,” and a white fluffy cat labeled “Norwegian Forest Cat.”

Jackie frowned. “Okay, I don’t know what this means other than some sort of instructions, so I’m just going to plug this image into the editing program and see if anything shows up when I play with sliders.”

It sounds like we’re meant to find those images in some sort of catalog, JJ figured. But what catalog?

“I dunno. Maybe it’s in that other folder. You know, that came with this?” Chase wondered.

Jackie paused. “Maybe. I haven’t found anything in this image yet, so we can look what’s in there.” He went back into the files and opened the folder labeled 3.

What was inside were countless black-and-white photos, all with names written in numbers and a few letters. “What the...?” Jackie scrolled down...and down...and down...until he grabbed the scroll bar with his mouse and pulled it all the way to the bottom. “There must be hundreds of images in here!”

“Jesus,” Chase muttered. “Uh, I think this is the catalog.”

“How are we supposed to find three pictures out of all these?!” Jackie threw his hands in the air. “That could take hours! W-we don’t have that much time!” Jackie clasped his hand over his mouth, trying and failing to keep his eyes from watering. “It was rigged. This whole thing was rigged, we were never going to win it.” He blinked, and tears started falling down his face. He’d been scrambling, frantically trying to complete puzzles and reach the locations quickly, only for this? For two of his friends to die without him being able to do anything about it? What a sick game this was.

“No no no no, there has to be a way,” Chase took the laptop, using the mousepad to scroll through the photos, eyes scanning in rows. “Maybe they’re really early on, and this is meant to discourage us.”

“Chase, I don’t think that’s the case.” Jackie buried his hands in his folded arms. He was shaking.

“No, listen, there has to be a way.” Chase didn’t take his eyes off the screen. “This guy’s a sick fuck, but he also has another set of puzzles after this, he’s not gonna rig it so you fail before getting to that last set. There has to be a way to find—” He stopped, eyes suddenly widening. “We can use the find feature.”

Jackie looked up with red-rimmed eyes. “The what?”

“The find feature, the search bar, it’s built in to your files.” Chase circled the mouse around the search bar in the upper right corner of the window. “We just need to know what the images are called.”

“Well, uh...I think he gave us the image names. In the other picture, with the instructions.” Jackie gently took back the computer, switching to the other image. “See? Magic Wand, Card Game, and Norwegian Forest Cat.” Jackie typed the first phrase, Magic Wand, into the search bar. Nothing came up.

JJ tapped Jackie’s shoulder for attention. All the photo titles are in that same code from before, he pointed out. Perhaps we simply need to encode the titles of the images we’re looking for?

Jackie suddenly threw his arms around JJ. “Jameson Jackson, you’re a genius.” He let go, then turned to his other side and hugged Chase too. “And you also, Chase! I don’t know if I’d have thought of the search.”

“Aw, it’s nothing,” Chase muttered, smiling a bit.

Really no problem at all, JJ signed.

“Well, I would’ve been stuck for a while. And time is of the essence.” Jackie opened up the same online code converter from before. He typed in the first phrase again, and then copied the result—4d 61 67 69 63 20 57 61 6e 64—and pasted it into the file search bar. Immediately, the image they’d been looking for popped up. “Yes!” Jackie shouted, punching the air.

“Wait, something’s up.” Chase leaned over and opened the image. There was a strange bit at the bottom, taken up with a white and black boxy symbol. “That looks like...I dunno, part of a QR code.”

“How much do you want to bet the rest of the code is in the other two images?” Jackie muttered.

After encoding the other titles and finding the images, it was clear that the QR code was split up between the three images. Jackie plugged all three into the photo editor, and arranged them next to each other so the code was complete. He patted his suit. “Fuck, do either of you have your phone?”

Chase checked his pockets. “No. I last remember setting it down on my desk, but then I passed out and woke up in that...place.”

JJ waggled his mustache, and pulled out his phone with a grin.

“Jays, I love you so much,” Jackie laughed. “Oh, the old-fashioned man is the one with the smartphone, how ironic.”

JJ passed it to Jackie. It’s very helpful. I’m trying to make a habit of keeping it on my person.

“That’s a good idea.” Jackie leaned back a bit as he tried to get the entire code in view of the camera. Then he snapped a picture, and a notification immediately popped up, saying the code had been understood and explaining what it would do. “This’ll take us to a website...” Jackie said, clicking on the notification to activate the code. The browser on the phone opened up, 

Chase leaned over. “What’s that?”

“It’s a crossword puzzle.” Jackie groaned. He’d hoped the QR code would just give them the location to find Marvin, but no such luck. “Alright. Some of the squares are colored red, and at the bottom there’s this thing...” He scrolled down, and read out loud. “‘The address is 68′ and then a blank space. I bet we have to solve the crossword puzzle and then plug the letters from the red squares into this space to find the street address.”

Then what are we waiting for? JJ asked. What is the puzzle asking for?

Jackie looked through the hints. “Looks like a bunch of trivia...oh! I know the answer to number one! It’s Undertale.” Jackie smiled a bit. That was Marvin’s favorite game...thinking of Marvin, the smile faded. “Okay. Let’s go.”

By the time they finished, the clock read 3:25am. Piecing together the letters from the red squares, they came up with the address of 68 Aspen St. “That’s on the other side of town!” Jackie cried, distressed. “Okay. Okay, I can probably run there quickly, you guys will have to catch—”

“We can drive,” Chase suggested.

JJ frowned. Chase, I know you can drive, but you don’t have your car.

“There’s a car right there, in that parking lot.” Chase pointed diagonally across the street. There was indeed a single car in an empty lot. “Jackie, do you still know how to hotwire things?”

“Ah—I mean, yeah, but are we really about to steal a car?” Jackie asked tentatively.

It’s either that or let Marvin die! JJ signed furiously. We can return it after!

Jackie jumped at JJ’s sudden motion, but then nodded. “Yeah, guess it’s the lesser of two evils, huh?” He shut the laptop. “Alright. We have to hurry. If my math’s correct, we only have about half an hour before that timer counts down. Let’s go.”

[violetsmoak]

Pieces of April [12/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099044/chapters/50202530

Summary: On the anniversary of his death, Jason’s second life takes an abrupt new turn and he’s faced with a challenge that neither Batman nor the All-Caste prepared him for.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Warning(s): Past Jason/Isabel, kidfic, minor canon character death (pretty sure you can guess who), I’ll add more warnings/tags as I think of them.

Canon-Compliance: Takes place in between the two RHATO series, so after Roy and Kori and before Artemis and Bizarro. Jason and Isabel Ardila were in a brief relationship.

First Chapter

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Isabel’s place has a lived-in feel that Jason is not very familiar with.

Willis and Catherine’s tiny apartment is a distant memory for him, and the handful of foster homes that followed don’t even rate. Wayne Manor, while once home, was never exactly what one might call “homey”; and the less said about his time in the League, the better.

As for his network of safe-houses, these are meant more for function and convenience than to encourage long-term comfortable living.

Very different from the room illuminated when Jason flicks on the lights.

Warm, inviting colors grace the walls, somehow blending well with living room furniture meant more for comfort than to match. In the kitchen, dishes dry on the rack because there’s no dishwasher, while a vacuum cleaner lies forgotten in the hallway. There’s no evidence of a maid or English butler the way Tim’s place has; like Jason, Isabel was uncomfortable with being waited on.

Half of her kitchen table is buried beneath a sea of papers, piles of junk mail, receipts and a newspaper or two.

It’s second nature for Jason to go through the detritus, though he’s not entirely sure what he’s looking for. When he doesn’t find it, he slips into the kitchen, rifling through cupboards and drawers. Lots of people will stash small, important property in their kitchen, banking on would-be-intruders focusing on the obvious takes like televisions and computers. Since Jason isn’t in a hurry, he has the luxury of searching through everything himself.

Apparently Isabel wasn’t worried about theft since he finds nothing; frowning, he glances over to the fridge for potential clues. Magnets from what appears to be every country she’s ever visited hold up notes against the chrome façade, along with pictures and business cards and—

Jason reaches out before he’s aware of it, tracing his finger across the edge of the black and white printout that holds the prominent place of center. The sonogram picture is different from the one’s he saw on cases before he died, or even the kind he sees on television. It’s not simply a grainy outline of a vaguely baby shape, but a 3D image that details the features of the infant he held in his arms just last night.

He reaches out to take it off the fridge, then thinks better of it and backs away.

Not like I need to keep anything like that, I’ve seen the actual baby already.

He wanders over to the kitchen counter, sifts through more paper. There’s an actual physical day planner there that’s seen better days, pages ripped and bent and some stuck together. He pockets that, intending to go through it later; it might hold information about her friends and contacts.

Speaking of…

He studies the walls and surfaces of the unit, noting the sea of personal trinkets and photos of Isabel. Most of them are of her and a bunch of other, usually against the backdrop of a beach or bar lounge. Some of them include herself and Safiya—he recognizes one of the photos as having been taken on the edge of Robinson Park, in the area that’s still safe and Poison Ivy free.

In all of them, she looks happy, which calms that lingering part of him that’s worried his presence in her life had any kind of lasting trauma. Either she is—was—the most well-adjusted person ever, or she had a Wayne level of ability to pretend.

Studying the rest of her belongings along the bookshelves and coffee tables, something strikes him; in addition to the usual paperback bestsellers and gossip rags he would expect from someone of Isabel’s age and interests, there are baby books tucked everywhere.

From parenting How-To guides, to early readers that are still in pristine, sometimes packaged condition. There are fairy tales and Spanish alphabet books and board books with various textures cut in the pages.

Like someone was gearing up to become Supermom.

Which she was, wasn’t she?

Numbly, he wanders down the hall, glancing briefly into the master bedroom before his eyes are drawn to the second room. It feels like the bottom of his stomach has dropped out as he looks at the door, and the pretty, swirling pink script stenciled across it. Letters set between colorful flowers and balloons.

Luisa.

Tentative, he nudges the door fully open and wanders into what is clearly a nursery. There’s a crib set up, with a mobile of stars and planets, a changing table, rocking chair—quite a few of the mysterious objects he spied sitting in a pile on Tim’s living room floor.

All of which speaks of a woman who very much wanted the baby currently residing in the Gotham General neonatal wing.

Jason sits down heavily on the rocking chair, barely hearing it creak beneath him as his thoughts play on repeat.

She wanted this.

But she didn’t tell him.

Obviously she didn’t want him involved.

But then why list him as the father?

Why make him her emergency contact, instead of her friend? It seems like an awfully calculated, purposeful move for someone that didn’t want him in her child’s life.

He gazes blearily around the nursery, eyes flitting past the typical soft and fuzzy and mostly pink stuffed animals and blankets. Everything in here was chosen with care as if picked directly from a catalog, and with intent.

Except for one thing.

Jason stands, reaches for something on top of a chest of drawers just beside a baby monitor.

The Red Hood plush toy is a ridiculous caricature, with a bulbous head and stubby arms. Toy companies have been making merchandise off the world’s heroes since time immemorial, but he didn’t realize that plushies were a thing.

Let alone that there’d be a version of me included in the line.

His thumbs slide across the tiny stylized red bat on its chest; there are fabric holsters but no guns, of course.

It’s the only item that seems out of place in the entire room.

Obviously placed here on purpose.

But wouldn’t that mean…?

Mind reeling, Jason returns to the living room, more determined now to figure out Isabel’s frame of mind. To know the thoughts behind her decisions. There’s a folder among the medical stuff, with information relevant to her pregnancy—medical history, prescriptions—but nothing written in her hand.

Which isn’t surprising. Who keeps a journal these days when everything’s online?

That has him searching out her computer, which is set up in the corner of the living room on a tiny desk. He boots it up and studies the keyboard to see which keys are more faded than others.

Before he can make much headway guessing her lock-password, there’s a bang that has Jason whirling around. His instinct is to reach for his gun, but being mindful of his location thinks better of it.

Just as well, considering who the intruder is.

“What do you think you’re doing here?!” Safiya demands from the doorway of the apartment. She’s holding an aluminum baseball bat and wearing a fierce expression. “This is not your apartment! I will call the police if you don’t—” She cuts off when she recognizes Jason. “You.”

“Hi,” he says, somewhat bemused.

She doesn’t relax, narrowing her eyes at him; they are puffy and bloodshot, and he suspects she’s been crying since leaving him and Tim at the hospital.

“How did you get in here?” she demands at last, suspicious but somehow bypassing the usual questions he'd expect. “I have only set of keys.”

She brandishes the keychain in hand as though to make a point.

The utter lack of surprise or fear catches him off-guard; Jason falters for a minute thinking of a plausible lie to tell. And then he decides he doesn’t have the energy.

“I picked the lock on the window,” he tells her.

Safiya’s eyes narrow. “They teach you that sort of thing in bodyguard school?”

Nice lie, Drake. Obviously she didn’t buy it.

“Can’t all be taking bullets for the president.”

“Right…” Safiya lowers the bat, but only incrementally. “What are you doing here?”

“I needed to…see for myself,” he finishes lamely, still not entirely sure how to answer the question.

“I understand.” This time the fight goes completely out of her. She steps into the apartment, glancing around furtively, and then closes the door behind her as she comes inside. “You might have mentioned earlier you wanted to come. I could have given you the keys.”

“Wasn’t really thinking about it back then,” he tells her, watching her set down the bat. “You’re pretty intimidating for someone so small.”

“This is Gotham,” she retorts. “It would be stupid to be anything less than vigilant whether you have cause to fear or not.”

“And you don’t have cause to fear?”

“When one has a guaranteed death hanging over one’s head, there is very little to fear.”

Jason thinks of his time as Robin, of the danger and the close calls, and of his life now; the certainty of it ending in blood and fire and another goddamn plaque in the Cave.

He gets it. More than she knows.

“Fair,” he acknowledges. He pauses, a bit awkward, and asks, “How are you holding up?”

“As well as can be expected,” she sighs, looking around the room. “It does not seem real.”

“You’re telling me,” Jason says, though it comes out as more of a sigh. He feels the tension in his shoulders, which have been pulled tight since Safiya first made her appearance, ease. “Have you had a chance to reach out to anyone?”

“Not yet. I’ve been…processing.”

“If you need help…” he begins, uncertain about what exactly he’s offering to do here.

“You have other things to worry about,” she replies with a shake of her head.

No kidding.

He recalls his conversation with Tim about the fate of the baby, and before he can think better of it, blurts out, “Do you know anything about her last boyfriend?”

Safiya gives him a sharp look. “Why? Are you going to try to convince him the baby is his?”

There’s judgment there, not entirely unwarranted maybe.

“No. But maybe he and Isabel have—had mutual friends. People who might…”

Take the baby.

He doesn’t need to say it out loud, she clearly follows his thought process. This time there’s no judgment, surprisingly.

“His name was Jonathan,” she recalls. “Sutter, I think.” Jason makes a note of that. “He’s an accountant for one of the big firms downtown.”

 “Accountant, huh?”

Guess she wanted someone the exact opposite of me the next time around…

“Yes. They met at the hospital the last time the Joker escaped,” Safiya explains. “He was being treated for that horrible gas, and Isabel was…”

She trails off, considering him carefully.

“Recovering from the bastard shooting her up with heroin,” Jason says darkly. “Yeah, I was caught up in that myself. Not a night I want to revisit.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Safiya says dryly. “Anyhow, they went on a few casual lunch dates and she said it might be getting serious, and then I didn’t hear from her for a week. I’m guessing that’s when she was with you. And then two weeks after that, they were together.”

“How serious was it?”

“Serious enough, I think. She was happy.” She pauses here, lower lip trembling and inhales deeply through her nose. Jason recognizes the look of someone trying to stave off tears. “Then it was over and she was alone. Shortly after she told me about the baby, and…well, you. Sort of.”

Jason swallows, not even able to imagine what Isabel might have said about him. There’s a long silence between them, both of their thoughts clearly on the woman whose presence is so pervasive in this room.

Safiya sniffs.

“Listen,” she says at last. “I can see you want to do right by Luisa. I don’t know what Isabel’s reasons were for not telling you. But I don’t think it’s because you would harm a child. As long as you’re acting as guardian to Luisa, I will make you the same offer I made her mother: I will help you as much as I am able. Just call me and I’ll do my best to be there.” She offers Jason a wan smile. “You are not alone in this.”

“So I’ve been hearing,” he replies heavily. “Still working on the believing.”

There’s a trilling noise and Safiya reaches for her pocket for her phone, sliding her thumb across the screen to silence it.

“Speaking of believing,” she says. “I have to leave for prayers now. If you were anyone else, I’d worry you intended to steal and sell her belongings but given who your partner is…I doubt you’re hurting for money.”

Jason snorts. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“I’m also assuming you can let yourself out of here the same way you got in,” she continues. “So I won’t offer you my keys. Unless you intend to take over plant-watering duties?”

“Uh, no. I’m the opposite of a green thumb.”

He doesn’t mention that he’s never taken care of a plant on his own, let alone a child. Probably she won’t appreciate that kind of gallows humor.

“Alright then. I will see you around, I guess.” She pauses in the doorway. “Although, the next time you come by, at least send a text message or something so I don’t accidentally knock you out.”

And with that, she’s gone.

Jason shakes his head, mouth quirked upward in grim amusement. Knowing his luck, and his frame of mind, she’d actually manage it.

He doesn’t move immediately upon finding himself alone again, feeling rather like the interlude with Safiya has broken through some of the mounting, breathless panic he had been feeling before.

His eyes catch upon the fridge again, and the sonogram picture there, and he physically shakes himself.

Get back to work.

The computer in the corner is open on the login screen, and he goes to sit down, setting to work decrypting her password.

It doesn’t take very long—she’s not the kind of person to use something obvious like ‘password’, but a lot of civilians don’t bother with the randomly generated string of numbers, letters and symbols. It takes about fifteen minutes for him to happen upon the word based on faded keys—a mashup of her parent’s names and some numbers he supposes holds significance to her—and he’s into her system.

It’s a job he’s had to do uncountable times in his life, scanning through private files and documents of murder victims or suspects. It’s always had a kind of morbid quality to it before, but he’s feeling that even more now.

He knew this person.

He knows if she was here—if she was still alive—she would not be happy with such an invasion of her privacy.

But she’s not here, is she. That’s the whole problem.

He swallows, flipping through the digital folders; when nothing jumps out at him immediately, he decides to come back to it and instead opens her email program.

It’s mostly a list of weekly work schedules and the requisite spam from subscriber lists, but then he notices there’s a single file in the Drafts folder that curiosity has him clicking a moment later.

[Draft] rentabat@waynet.com (no subject)

The last date it was modified is the day she died. He clicks on it, eyes immediately flying to the first word—Jason—before stopping, breath catching. Because while this is exactly what he’s been trying to find since he got here, it’s also exactly what he didn’t want to find.

Dreading what he’s about to discover, he takes a breath and braces himself to read the whole thing.

Jason—

I don’t know if you even use email or not, but I saw this on that ridiculous Rent-a-Bat sign the last time I was in California and figured I’d try. I’d call your cell, but I might screw up saying what I need to over the phone. Assuming you even pick up for me.

At least this way, I might work up the nerve to press send.

I’m pregnant. About seven months now—

He pauses, glancing again at the time of the email, because Isabel had been nine months pregnant when she died, which means she started this email months ago but never got around to sending it.

Never got around to, or never worked up the courage.

Just like Safiya said.

He goes back to reading.

—About seven months now.

It’s a girl, and she’s yours based on the dates the doctors gave me. I wasn’t with anyone but you, unless Kori’s people can get a person pregnant by just touching them.

(The baby’s perfectly human by the way, according to the tests.)

I didn’t find out until weeks after we ended things, or I would have told you when we last spoke on the phone. After that, I didn’t know how to tell you. About the baby or the fact, I’ve decided to keep her.

I was scared. For a lot of reasons that I’m sure you understand. I was worried you’d try to talk me out of this, and then I worried if anyone were to find out, they might try to use us against you. It’s already happened once; it can happen again.

There are rumors all over Gotham that the Joker’s dead, but they’ve said that before. It’s dangerous here, so much so that I’ve thought about leaving the city with her and starting over. Except, it’s hard enough to do this Mom thing by yourself in the only place that’s ever been home, let alone up and move somewhere you’ve got absolutely nothing.

And to be honest, I’ve never been the type to run away from something.

Which is why I’m embarrassed it’s taken me so long to get in touch with you.

I’m not sure if I’ve been more worried that you’d want nothing to do with me or her, or the opposite. That you’ll do the decent thing and give up everything you do—all the important stuff, saving innocent people and fighting aliens and taking out the worst criminals—just to be here. Because that’s the type of person you are. You’re hard because you have to be but inside, you’re a good man and you’ve got a code. On that front, I can’t think of a better man to have a child with.

But I also get that you might not want to or be able to be that person. And I understand all of that. I would never ask you to change your entire life because of this. You have a purpose and resources and plans I can barely imagine, but I think in some ways I’m a lot freer than you are.

I’m lucky here, I have a friend to help me out in the first weeks, and my job has an excellent daycare program for when I’m off maternity leave. I have a support system and we will be alright on our own if you decide you can’t or don’t want to be a part of this.

But I hope you’ll want to.

I want her to meet you, whether it’s now or years from now. A kid has a right to know her family. I lost mine too young, and you said you did too. I don’t want that for our daughter.

I’ve decided to call her Luisa, after my mother. I haven’t chosen a middle name yet, in case you want some input on that, but otherwise I’ll

The email cuts off abruptly there, and he finds himself wondering what interrupted her, even though he can guess the reason. His brain is still struggling to compute her final words to him.

There’s a lot to unpack, but the most startling thing is that Isabel wanted him to know.

She not only wanted this baby, but she wanted Jason to be in her life.

In their lives, more to the point.

Stunned, he leans back in the chair and stares unseeing at the computer screen as he tries to sort out how he feels about all this.

He doesn’t notice that hours have passed until the hospital contacts him hours later.

⁂⁂⁂

Your feedback matters! I want to know what you think of my story, so feel free to leave kudos, a comment or as many of these emojis as you want and let me know how you feel!

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