#i get it you want mari angst okay then consider: do it correctly and use actual angst from the show instead of forcing everyone ooc

[that-was-anticlimactic]

the miraculous ladybug fandom really loves hating children for being children. they are literally kids. they are fourteen years old. "alya césaire bashing" should NOT be the top alya tag. what did she do wrong? have an underdeveloped brain since she's, oh, idk, fourteen? or-or is it because she *gasps* has made mistakes? why is "classmates bashing" a popular tag? oh noooo they're kids and they made mistakes! + the writing in those episodes was bad and they were ooc! how dare they! "adrien agreste bashing" - okay. he's flirtatious and has feelings. sue him for acting like the suppressed teen he is. like oh my god. even the lila hate,,, y'all do realize she's a child, right? you're allowed to hate her but wishing death upon her?the way that people write about/refer to lila is sick.

"alya césaire redemption" FROM WHAT!!! why does she need to be redeemed? gosh. no matter how many classmates bashing-related tags i filter out on ao3, i still actively struggle to find fics without it. these characters are 1. fictional and 2. children. if you can't handle kids being kids then stop watching???

not only are they kids, but they're traumatized kids. marinette and adrien aren't the only traumatized characters. every single classmate got akumatized and tried to kill the city's heroes and destroy the city. alix erased people from existence. how do you think she felt about that after the fact? ivan, a fourteen year old kid, was the first person to get akumatized. the first. he had no idea what was happening, people gave him so much crap for it, and then it happened again. sabrina almost killed chat noir. kim tried to make chat noir kill ladybug. alya tried to unmask her hero live. sabrina literally became invisible.

like... and not just that, but they've all been heroes, too. as exciting as it may have been at the time, you can't tell me they aren't at least a Little traumatized after fighting literal villains. oh, and they've been victims of akuma attacks. is chloe a bad person? kinda, yeah (but also partially bc of bad writing-). but she was almost like boiled alive, killed, was taken hostage countless times. max had to deal with the aftermath of markov's akumatization. when juleka became akumatized in "guilt", the classmates were forced to sit and get consumed by guilt. they've had to watch their family get akumatized, watch their friends or partners get akumatized, live through the guilt of knowing they hurt someone so much they got akumatized. bc they're human and they're kids. ofc they're going to hurt someone. it's natural. let them be kids!

[saltymongoose]

the AU thingy

Son of a ----

Okay.

So.

    First things first. 

I’m like 90% sure I’m not actually human anymore. My vision is all weird and I haven’t blinked once so… no eyes probably. Also, my skin is both grey and I’ve got a decent layer of fur, so that’s definitely an indicator that I am no longer a Homo Sapien.

Not ideal, but I don’t think a species change is the biggest issue on my list right now. I’ve got other shit to deal with.

I did a quick check of my body and everything on me. I was wearing a black shirt with open shoulders that goes up to my neck, black leggings, brown combat boots. Belt with shotgun shells and a pocket full of more around my waist. Another pack around my right leg that’s filled with way more sniper rounds than I think is physically possible to fit in there. Same goes for the one around my waist.

Not that I’m really complaining about the ammo. I’d rather have more than less and if my bullet bags are kinning Mary Poppins’ handbag then I’m not really going to complain.

Green hair, no eyes. I’ve got a sniper rifle on my back and a shotgun right over the small of my back. I forgot that I used that, or more accurately my sona used it. Oh, hey a knife on my chest. That’s useful.

But enough about inventory. I could take a better look later, once I’d had a nice mental breakdown and a good cry. I could really use a good cry right about now.

Later. Here isn’t very safe. 

Not that I know where exactly here is but considering the context clues when it comes to my body and the fact the sky’s red, I’m going to say mother fucking Nevada.

Most likely in the Combat Madness universe.

It’s been a while since I played the game, having finished it once and getting pretty far in Arena before I finally died and decided I’d take a break. Of course, having ADHD and terrible prioritizing skills means ‘taking a break’ quickly turned into not having touched the game for half a year. 

But I’d still written stories and drawn a bit and had worked on a “post-arena” tale for my character.

Agent Echo, a grunt with a genetic quirk that made her female, smaller than most other grunts, and the fastest bitch in the west. Nevada was the west right? 

I’d worked on making it so my character could have a shitton of ammo but also incredible aim, and she wasn’t worthless when it came to hand-to-hand either. So, thank God for small mercies.

After tearing through scores of other grunts and a multitude of battles, but not really being cut out for actual combat against the likes of Hank and the crew (and oh boy would meeting them be fun if I didn’t instantly die) the Auditor decided to order the little killing machine be shoved into a lab for some radioactive testing.

The results? 

Bright green hair (like grass, not eye-bleeding green), a slightly higher than normal level of radioactivity that could kill people if utilized correctly, and a special combat ability I had named “The Las Vegas Glare”. 

If you’ve ever played Fall Out, you know that at a certain point you can begin to pick and choose where exactly you shot your enemies, which meant that if you wanted to blast them with a headshot, you could do so every single time in slow motion and high definition.

So of course, I gave my sona that ability. Not without side effects because I’m a sucker for angst.

While in combat, Echo could dramatically increase her radiation output, which would allow her to a pair of eyes and see everything in slow motion.

If she’d been a deadly sniper before, now she was simply the definition of lethal.

But again, side effects. 

Increasing radiation made her sick as a dog and there was also the fact that growing eyes spontaneously wasn’t a very comfortable experience, nor was dealing with the after-decay either. Eventually the eyes would be gone again, but it was a good idea for Echo, and now me I supposed since I was stuck in her body, to wear a visor to contain the radioactive flesh. 

Sometimes if the ability was used for too long it would cause certain parts of her body to begin to just… quit. Say “no thank” and fuck off and die after deciding they weren’t dealing with the radioactive killing machine. 

I already checked, but just like in my story, my right leg was completely gone. Up to the hip, but surprisingly easy to use after falling more than once.

Then again multiple people have been shot in the head and survived in the Madness Combat universe, so it’s not a surprise they can literally just replace somebody’s leg.

But the whole ‘replacing the leg’ thing is why Echo in the story left. A couple higher ups decided her recovery was too much work and the time she spent healing would be better spent training somebody else to take her place while they disposed of her body.

And in true angsty fashion, I decided that didn’t happen, but something a little worse instead.

One good old 2B-Damned erased Echo’s memory and sent her loose in the Nevadan landscape. After dropping her off somewhere decently safe and giving her ammo and weapons.

I remember vaguely seeing him, still too disoriented in waking up in a body that wasn’t mine and figuring out who I was after having my brain wiped.

So I only really registered that I had met 2B once he was leaving.

That wasn’t ideal. Especially since I had a few questions like how the fuck did I get here.

ANYWAYS, introductions over. I’ve explained some background, given you an overview of the character I’m currently in, a little bit of exposition.

Not that I’m actually talking to anybody, but it’s nice to think that someone somewhere is watching me and paying attention to the ramblings in my mind. It helped me really register where I am and what’s going on anyways. So, win-win.

So. Current situation.

Not human anymore, somehow in Nevada and in the body of a radioactive grunt who got injured and then yeeted out into the desert by a slightly crazy doctor who wiped her memory and in doing so somehow yoinked my soul into this universe.

 I never really did decide if 2B had shoved me, and I guess I’m referring to Echo as me now, I always did like the name and this is my body now, into the desert to save my life or to prevent the scientists who made me this way from being able to use my body.

I’ve always been one for sentimentality, but I think the second option is more accurate. Maybe if I find 2B again I can ask him.

Currently I’m walking through the streets and holding my shotgun to my chest like it’ll save me and take me home. I’ve never actually fired a gun and I’m a little terrified I don’t have any abilities here. 

I don’t know if I could kill somebody if it came to it, but I’m in Nevada now. It’s going to come to it. I’m not naïve enough to think I can live here and not kill people to survive. Pacifism will get you killed in a warzone, and I’d rather not die yet. Some sick part of me hoped I’d end up killing somebody sooner than later so I wouldn’t have to deal with the anticipation, and maybe I’d get over it faster. 

Oh, hey a warehouse! This could be useful. It was better than being out in the open in any case. 

--------------------------         Fellow-09 considered himself a relatively decent guy.

He had friends in Hank and the gang, he was a little closer to 2B-Damned than most expected, and he was, in Deimos’s words, what most would consider a gentleman.

Which is why he felt a little bad for the tiny grunt 2B was having him follow. 

2B had given him the job with the basic overview of what the grunt was capable of, and the fact she’d had her mind wiped. Apparently, it was easier to possibly recruit very deadly agents if they didn’t remember the fact you were their enemy. 

Fellow could understand that, but at the same time it was a little pitiful watching the kid, and even if she was older than him according to her file, she’d had her mind wiped, so yes, she was basically a kid, look around the area like there were monsters in all the shadows.

There weren’t, Fellow had made sure. It wasn’t a good idea to have a potential asset be instantly shoved into a battlefield, though Fellow was sure Hank would’ve said it would be a good way to test her abilities. 

But Hank wasn’t here, and Fellow was a gentleman. He noticed that she had gone into a warehouse, and he quickly entered from a different entrance. 

He knew her name but decided that he’d wait for her to introduce herself before he used it. Wouldn’t want her to be freaked out by him knowing things he really shouldn’t. And honestly, he shouldn’t be talking to her at all. Observe and report 2B had said.

If he asked, Fellow would just make an excuse about the grunt finding him half asleep.

2B would never believe it, but the joke would take the edge off and there wasn’t much 2B could do once the decision was made. So. He was going to introduce himself.

He sat down at one of the empty desks, kicking his feet up on the old wood as he waited for the girl to make her way into the office. He’d gotten a better glimpse of her as he entered the warehouse, and he could admit she was cute.

Not his type, he was strictly men, but he could see Deimos fawning over her. Of course, Deimos would chase after anything with legs that was legal, (but Fellow would never say that to his face. That’s what Sanford was for.)

Then again, Sanford was always into shorties, (now that was something Fellow would call Deimos to his face. It was funny seeing the smoker get pissed about his height.) so he wasn’t fully off the list of people who might flirt with the new girl.

And he was doing it again.

Fellow had a very bad habit of considering people part of the group or team before he’s even met them. Subconsciously adding them to his register of people to protect before they even meet.

There was no guarantee the girl would even stay.

Speaking of the girl, Fellow was snapped out of his musings by the very audible sound of a shotgun being cocked. (Heh. Cock)

Fellow slowly raised his hands, revealing that he held no weapons (there was a pistol in his pocket, though he was happy to see her). Don’t make the girl nervous, and hopefully don’t get shot.

“Hey there.” He drawled, his voice light and welcoming. He’d been a spy for years, and he knew all the tricks to get somebody to let their guard down, even if they didn’t realize it. “Mind putting the gun down?”

The girl relaxed fractionally, her grip shifting on the weapon. She licked her lips, and Fellow noticed with a bit of surprise that she had fangs. Interesting.

“Who’re you?” She asked, voice quiet but confident. Mid tones, not too deep not too high. If he didn’t know from her file and the fact she had boobs, he wouldn’t have been able to tell her gender from voice alone. A good trait for prank calls.

He’s been hanging out with Deimos too much.

“I’m Fellow-09. Friendly, promise. What’s your name?” He answered and asked, his tone still calm. Don’t overwhelm her, keep her calm. Mostly get the gun put away.

Surprisingly, the grunt in front of him relaxed instantly, tension bleeding from her body as she lowered the shotgun. He knew he was good, but he didn’t realize he was that good. He wasn’t complaining.

“Oh, thank god. I really didn’t want to shoot you.” She said, voice watery in the way that meant she was trying not to cry. 

She’s upset but relieved. This is the perfect opportunity to cement himself as an ally.

“You look tired.” He said softly, standing up and reaching out towards her. “How about you sit down and tell me your name?”

The grunt hesitated, her expression conflicted before she nodded, stowing her shotgun into a holster on her back. She walked over to the desk slowly, hopping onto the wood itself rather than the chair. Fellow took a moment to register how small she really was. Even sitting down on the desk which came up to his hip, she still had to look up to see his face. 

Fellow took a moment to wonder if her small stature was less of a genetics thing and more of a side effect from malnourishment. The grunt was skinny enough for that to make sense. She shuddered and rubbed her face, and Fellow quickly grabbed the water bottle he kept in his bag.

“Here ya go,” He murmured softly, holding the water bottle up to her. “Drink slowly, you might be dehydrated.”

  ------

I was pleasantly surprised to find Fellow-09 in the warehouse. It was a relief to know he was there, someone decently trustable. Kinda cute too. 

I sipped from the water bottle he gave me, feeling the cold water go down my throat. I was definitely dehydrated, and the water was a blessing. I took in his features, trying to commit them to memory. 

He was taller than I expected. Probably around 5’8 or 5’10. Somewhere between those two numbers. Big too, in a body size sense. But definitely all muscle. His skin was a pale white, different from my light grey. I chalked it up to being a different type of grunt and focused more on his face. Visual cross, no nose. Cute smile and short white hair that was swooped over on the left side. Solid 8/10 as far as grunts go. I probably stared at his hands longer than was necessary, but I don’t think anybody could blame me.

He had paw pads. And claws. I glanced down at my own hands and saw that I had a similar hand structure. Dope.

The biggest difference between us though was the fact that while I was covered in a solid half-inch of fuzz pretty much everywhere, Fellow only really seemed to have hair on his head.

It was kind of interesting to know that grunts did in fact have hair. I was worried I’d have to deal with a bunch of hot bald boys. Not that there’s anything wrong with being bald, but I personally liked to play with people’s hair.

I’ve been staring for too long.

I swallowed, giving Fellow a nervous smile as I handed the water bottle back to him. 

“Thanks.” I murmured, kicking my legs back and forth as I looked around. Huh, the fake leg was slightly lighter than my own when I’m not standing up. I wonder if the pouch around my leg is meant to add extra weight to balance it out. I didn’t add that in my original story, but it’d be a reasonable decision to make. 

Fellow grinned back, obviously waiting for me to get out of my thoughts so he could talk to me. His voice was relatively low, but nothing extreme. He sounded a little like that guy from Transformers. The movies with the mechanic guy. Always hated that plot point about his daughter and the 18-year-old. Creeped me out. Fuck you Bay. I’m getting distracted again.

“Feeling better?” Fellow asked, placing his water bottle back in what I assumed was his bag and not just some random backpack he found and was going to leave behind.

“A little bit.” I admitted, watching him move and trying to think around the headache I still had.

“Well, that’s good! What were you doing out alone? This is a dangerous area.” Fellow explained, moving to stand next to me. Well sort of, I was sitting on the desk, but he leaned on it next to me. Not in a creepy way, he was facing the same direction as me and gave me some space, but I moved slightly closer. 

I had heard that the grunts’ skin texture was like clay, and I was a little bit curious if it was true. Of course, I wasn’t going to touch Fellow without his permission, but still. If he let me, I wouldn’t say no.

It took me a moment to register that he’d asked a question and I chuckled a little bit when I realized I had spaced out again. 

“Just trying to figure out who I am, literally.” I replied, frowning slightly. “I feel like I just woke up for the very first time, and I’m a little out of it.” 

I rubbed the back of my head, scratching my neck in my normal nervous habit. I quickly pulled away, cringing at the feeling of my skin giving underneath. Right, claws.

Note to self, try to be more careful about scratching. Wouldn’t want to accidentally give myself an injury. 

Fellow looked concerned and leaned closer to me. He seemed to be scanning my body for injuries, and I tried to make myself look bigger. I was perfectly fine, just really really  out of my depth.

“Well, you don’t look hurt, so that’s good.” He encouraged, and I smiled at him. “And speaking of finding yourself, you never gave me your name.”

I stilled trying to think of an answer. I didn’t think that my real name would be one to share, and I never did feel comfortable sharing it with strangers. I never gave my character an actual name, and she had never been referred to as anything other than “Agent Echo”. But honestly, I don’t think that it would really matter if I called myself ‘Echo’ considering I was technically supposed to be dead but looked the same. Changing my name would just make me seem like an idiot. 

“I’m Echo.” I settled on, holding out my hand. 

Fellow grabbed my hand and shook it gently. 

“Pleasure to meet you Echo.”

Huh. 

He felt like soft rubber. 

-------

End of part 1 :3

Hope you enjoyed!! 

This was exactly eight pages in my word document. 

[captainsolare]

Heyya!!! I love this new event you're doing! Could I get a fic for Julius x fem reader please? Normal AU, roll 2 times for trope and 2 times for dialogue prompt? I hope I made the request correctly! Thank you ily 💙💙

A/N: Hey there! Thanks so much, ❤❤ I hope you enjoy it

Julius + Normal AU + Please pretend to be my date for this (dinner with my parents) + "It's freezing in here."

Warnings: includes a brief alcohol mention (Julius drinks wine), some angst/ hurt/comfort, f! reader

“Julius honey, your father and I need to have a chat with you.” The words from his mother over the communication device sent Julius into a cold sweat. He chuckled nervously, glad his mother couldn’t see his facial expressions, “What about? Is something wrong?”

“Yes of course there is! Next week marks the start of the holiday season and you still haven’t brought home a wife! Or even a girlfriend for that matter.”

Julius pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to come up with a suitable response but her next words sent a whole new wave of panic through him.

“Your father and I have been talking and I’m afraid if you don’t bring someone with you to our dinner next week, we’ll be choosing someone for you.”

Julius tried not to drop the device, an ultimatum for marriage? He guessed he should have expected this at some point but it still didn’t make this moment any better. His mind racing he said the only thing that came to mind to get out of this situation.

“No no! No need for that, you see… I’m actually seeing someone right now, I’ll bring her along!” He desperately hoped she couldn’t hear how tight his voice was, but to his relief his mother sounded happy.

“Oh really? This is wonderful news, I can’t wait to meet her.”

“And that’s why I really really need your help!”

Julius was practically on his knees outside your door, eyes wide with desperation. Your brow was furrowed as you tried to wrap your head around this situation.

“She really gave you an ultimatum about marriage?”

Julius nodded with a sigh, shoulders drooping. “Yes, she did. And since I lied and said I had a girlfriend already I need someone to play the part.”

You nodded slowly, pointing at yourself. “And you decided to go with me?”

He nodded eagerly, “Yes, we’re already so close I figured you’d be willing to help in my scheme.”

You studied his face in the ambient torchlight from the hallway, he looked so desperate, and so cute, how could you say no?

“Fine. Just let me know when I need to be ready.”

“Oh thank you, thank you!” He pulled you into a hug, heart light with relief, “You have no idea how much of a lifesaver you are.”

You awkwardly patted his back and he let you go with a quick goodbye, leaving you to stand in the doorway alone.

-

The gravity of the situation set in soon after he left, as it often did after he managed to pull you into one of his harebrained schemes. Collapsing on your bed, you shook your head at the ceiling as you thought about what this would involve: you’d have to pretend you were in love with him, which wouldn’t be hard because you definitely already were, you’d have to do a good enough job to fool his parents, which hopefully wouldn’t be hard since your acting skills were decent, and the final and most difficult part would come afterwards. After the dinner, you’d have to come back here to the castle, and you wouldn’t have Julius’s hand in yours anymore and you’d have to pretend that you were fine with it.

You rolled over and groaned into your pillow, “Oh Julius why did you have to choose me for this job?”

-

The day of the dinner soon arrived and Julius came to pick you up. You took one last look in the mirror, smoothing your clothes before you opened the door. You’d picked out what you hoped was a suitable dress, and you packed enough clothes in your bag for a few days if need be. From what you’d heard about Julius’s mother, she was quite pushy and since it was the holiday season you might need to keep up this charade for a few more days than originally planned.

“You look lovely darling,” Julius said jokingly as he walked with you to the carriage. You smiled and hoped he couldn’t see the hollowness of it, you could already tell that this would be more painful the longer it went on.

-

You stared out the window and watched as the towns became villages became countryside, and the cobblestones became dirt roads. It’s just one dinner. It’s just one dinner.

“Can we go over the plan one more time? Just to make sure we’re on the same page?” Julius asked, breaking your empty stare.

You blinked, returning to the real world and the imposing walls of the carriage seemed to grow closer. “Sure.” You said hoarsely, swallowing even though your throat was dry.

“Okay,” Julius leaned in closer, “So we need to pretend that we’re dating, hopefully just for tonight. But if not, and we end up having to stay for longer and things get desperate I’ll call Marx and have him set up a fake emergency for us to attend to.”

You nodded, “Okay sounds good.”

He placed his hand on yours and you resisted the urge to jump. “Thanks again for agreeing to this, I appreciate it more than you know.”

You smiled softly, “No problem.”

The carriage came to a stop outside a huge manor in the countryside, it’s sprawling lawn was lush and green, and there was a rose garden that could be seen through the iron gate.

Julius squeezed your hand, “Just for tonight.”

“Just for tonight.” You repeated. Maybe that’s the problem. a pang of sadness stabbed through your chest as you stepped out of the carriage, there’s no going back now.

-

The manor had a huge oak door, complete with a brass grimoire door knocker in the center. Julius had barely touched it when the door opened, revealing an excited woman and a slightly more subdued man standing in the doorway.

“Oh! It is so wonderful to meet you.” You said, extending a hand to the woman before you. She confusedly shook your hand before realizing you had mistaken her for Mrs. Novachrono, “Oh my, I’m sorry. I’m just the maid, the lady and master are in the parlor awaiting your arrival.”

You grimaced, you’d only just arrived and had already made a mistake, this didn’t bode well for your stay. Julius escorted you to the parlor, hand touching your lower back gently.

The parlor was filled with white furniture, the walls a dusty powder blue. Two people, presumably Julius’s parents, stood when you entered the room. The woman strode over to you and took your hands in hers, “Oh, it is so wonderful to meet you! You have no idea how long we’ve been waiting for this moment. I’m Marie and my husband over there is Julian.” She gushed, heat creeping up your neck at her words.

“It’s lovely to meet you as well, I’m Y/N. I’ve heard so much about you it’s nice to finally meet you in person!”

Marie gasped happily at your words, “Oh so you’ve been gossiping about me have you Julius? All good things I hope!”

Julius raised his hands in defense, “Yes mother, all good things.”

Marie nodded her pleasure, and led you to the couch. Julius sat next to you as you shook his father’s hand.

“Shall we have some tea while we wait for dinner to be prepared?” She asked. Before anyone could nod, she was calling the maid in to bring a tea tray.

“So Y/N, I want to hear all about you! How did you meet my darling boy? Has he been treating you well? I’ll smack him if he’s not, he may be the Wizard King but he’s still my son!” Marie said, watching you intently.

Julius could sense you were overwhelmed and grabbed your hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Well you see, I’m an archivist that works in the castle, so that’s how I met Julius. Don’t mention this to Marx but he has a habit of sneaking off to places he shouldn’t when he’s supposed to be doing paperwork.”

“Hey! That’s an unfair judgement!” Julius protested, but there was no hurt behind it.

“It’s a true judgement Julius!” You gave him a teasing grin before turning back to Marie, “Your son does indeed treat me well, he’s one of the kindest, most caring people I’ve ever met, and I fall more in love with him every day.”

Marie seemed pleased with your answer and was soon distracted by the tea that was set in front of them. Julius and his parents made small talk until dinner was announced, giving you a bit of respite from Marie’s rapid fire questions. You couldn’t help but smile, here Julius had ditched his cloak, and you got a peek at what his childhood had been like. It was interesting, watching interact with his parents, they seemed overbearing and aloof at the same time, and you wondered how they had raised such a decent man.

Julius took a sip of his wine near the end of dinner, the taste tangy sweet in his mouth.

“So Julius, when are you going to ask this girl to marry you? If I were you I’d have put a ring on that finger a long time ago?”

Julius started, the wine hit the back of his throat, sending him into a coughing fit. Once he had suitably recovered, he took a deep breath, “Well,” He considered his answer carefully, “I haven’t thought about it yet, I don’t think either of us want to rush things.”

You swallowed, nodding in agreement. “With the state of the kingdom, we weren’t sure if it would be a good idea to jump into such a serious commitment so soon.”

Your answers were deemed satisfactory and you excused yourself to go to the bathroom. You leaned on the sink and rested your head in your hands, you swallowed down a sob. This was harder than you could have imagined, not the lying, not the acting, just the fact that this wouldn’t last buzzing around in your mind. It hung over you like a cloud, this is a lie, it’s all a lie to him.

You took a deep breath, splashing your face with cold water, before returning to the table. “I’m awfully tired Julius, do you think it’s time to leave for the castle?”

Julius gave you a kind smile, “Yes, we can make it by morning if we leave now.” Marie tried to protest, but Julius won her over and you were soon saying your goodbyes in the foyer.

“Well, it was lovely to meet you. I do hope you come again soon.” Julian said, shaking your hand once more.

You nodded, pushing down the sadness that was welling in your chest, threatening to spill over. “Yes, until next time.” There won’t be a next time.

Julius’s shoulders sank with relief as soon as you were back in the carriage. “That went better than expected!” He said brightly, sinking back in his seat.

You could only nod, fearing if you spoke it would reveal how you were really feeling.

-

You arrived back at the castle as dawn was breaking in the sky. Julius helped you out of the carriage, dropping your hand as soon as you were down on solid ground.

“I must say, your acting was impeccable Y/N.”

That was it, that was the stone that broke the dam and tears spilled onto your cheeks.

Julius was taken aback at your reaction, he’d never seen you cry before and he was completely at a loss of what to do.

“Y/N? What’s wrong? Is something the matter?” He asked, studying your face frantically.

You blinked at him, eyes narrowing. “Is something the matter?” You repeated, “Is something the matter?! Julius, you must be denser than I thought if you’re asking me that question.”

You turned on your heel, rushing down the stone hallway to your room. Julius’s footsteps echoed behind you as he ran to keep up with your pace. He truly didn’t know what was wrong, and that only made you angrier.

You paused at your door and Julius caught you, hands resting on your shoulders.

“Will you please talk to me? Was it something I said?” He asked softly, purple eyes soft with concern.

You only sobbed harder, sinking into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you gently, as if he was afraid to break you.

“Yes! No! It wasn’t something you said per se, it was this, all of it!” You exclaimed, chest heaving and hands shaking.

Julius’s frown deepened, “Oh. I’m sorry Y/N, I didn’t know this had been so hard for you.”

You couldn’t stifle a laugh at his apology, “Hard for me? Of course it was hard for me. I meant what I said, it wasn’t acting,” your voice broke painfully as you took a deep breath to continue, “I mean it, I’m in love with you Julius.”

Julius’s hands dropped from your sides in shock, his face was a mixture of surprise and sadness when you met his gaze. Of course, the realization hit him like a ton of bricks, of course, you were in love with him, and he had been too dense to notice.

“I-- I’m sorry.” He stammered, and you took your chance to run into your room, slamming the door shut behind you.

You sank against it, too exhausted to stay standing. You heard footsteps receding and fresh tears rolled down your cheeks, of course, he was leaving.

A few minutes later there was a knock at your door. “Y/N, can we talk?” A soft voice asked, it was Julius.

You weren’t certain you wanted to talk to him, but you opened the door anyway and let him come in.

“Y/N, first of all I want to apologize. I was too dense to realize that what I had asked of you may have caused you hurt, and I’m sorry for that.”

You stared at him, “Okay.”

Julius ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, debating on whether he should say what was on his heart. “I also need to confess something, if that’s okay?”

You nodded, studying him carefully; you dared not get your hopes up, but somewhere in the depths of your heart, there was a small tiny glimmer of hope.

Julius sighed, “The truth is, I only asked you to do this job because I love you as well. Maybe this was my selfish way of getting to act like a couple without telling you how I felt because I was scared of how you would react.”

You sucked in a breath, “All along?”

Julius nodded, eyes tinged with sadness, “All along.”

“Well, it’s freezing in here. The least you could do is come and wrap me in your arms.” You said, the ghost of a smile on your lips.

Julius strode to your side, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. The hard conversation could be had in the morning, for now, this was enough.

[exquisitley-obsessed]

I’m Right Here (part 1?)

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: Arthur’s torn up over Mary, and his old friend and fellow gang member y/n drags his pitiful ass on a hunting trip; little do they know, they’re the ones about to be hunted.

Word Count: 3588

Pairings: Arthur Morgan x Reader (some Arthur and Mary angst)

Warnings: Hunting, guns, etc.

A/N: Currently playing RDR2 so please no spoilers <3 Literally took five minutes for me to fall in love with this damn fool and so felt like I needed to write something angsty for him. There’ll probably be a part two to this. (Also this made me seriously realise I cannot spell ‘Arthur’ for the life of me)

REQUESTS OPEN <3

MASTERLIST

“Well he aint in a good mood.”

Abigail was standing near her tent blowing gently on her boiling coffee as she watched Arthur swing into camp, readily jumping off his horse and loosely throwing the reigns towards the hitching post.

“No, he don’t,” Y/n answered. She was sitting with Jack in her lap, watching as Arthur made his way to his tent, cursing venomously under his breath. “I overheard Dutch mention something about Mary being in Valentine - that she wanted to see him.” Y/n shared the gossip with her long-time best friend and fellow gang member.

“Really?” Abigail’s head snapped to y/n as she busied herself with Jack’s excited giggling and blubbering. “She’s got some nerve.”

“Ha!” Y/n chuckled to herself as she bounced Jack about, “You can say that again.”

“It aint a secret that none of us like her,”

“Yeah, someone that even Hosea isn’t a fan of…now that’s an accomplishment.”

“He knows how to pick ‘em,”

“Sure does,” y/n sighed, throwing a glance at Morgan. Watching Arthur and Mary run back and forth to one another was like watching a dog chase its tail – futile, funny and somewhat depressing. With there being such a tight knit in the Van Der Linde gang, Mary had always felt alien and other – like she was a piece that didn’t quite fit in a rather strange and elaborate puzzle. Y/n’s bitterness towards the woman had only grown as she watched Arthur yo-yo between complete euphoria one night to a mild mental break the next; ultimately, it hurt watching him day in and day out tie himself to the train tracks and look with woozy, loving eyes at the incoming train.

“When was the last time you talked to him?” Abigail attempted to ask inconspicuously, dipping her nose into her mug as she took a swig. Y/n eyed her, Abigail had made it somewhat obviously clear she believed there to be something more between Arthur and y/n; y/n couldn’t figure out if she was amused or conflicted.

“Not since before this Blackwater mess…not a proper conversation like we used to have.” Y/n’s attention now back on the bubbling child pulling at her braid.

“Not had the chance?”

“Well, no.” She didn’t look at Abigail, “Everything blew up and…Dutch aint been letting me out on any of missions recently so I can’t talk to him then. Not with how badly things went for me in Blackwater.” Y/n was talking about her bandaged right arm, still pink and puckering from that night. When the pandemonium erupted on the waters, y/n found herself caught in a minor explosion when some TNT barrels were caught in the crossfire. The result was a degree of burns lashed across most of her right arm. Dutch, seeing her like a daughter, reacted in a rather extreme and protective manner – extreme by y/n’s standards at least.

“It’s a goddamn joke you know, I have to prove myself to be twice as better just to be even considered to go on missions. They all treat me like I’m gone break or something – I been shooting longer than most of them too.” Abigail nodded along hazily; the gang was somewhat used to y/n’s frequent outbursts and rants, having never been one much for holding her tongue. However, they couldn’t blame here; it was just a result of her start in life.

“Now’s a good time y/n - go take him hunting or something,” Abigail was still peering at Arthur over her mug.

“Hunting?”

“Yeah, you can get some fresh air, help him clear his head and also bring back something Pearson could turn edible.”

“Dutch aint letting me leave camp right now-”

“Oh, come on! You know he’d let you go if Arthur was with you”

“Abi-”

“Don’t fight me on this y/n. He’s hurting, it’s obvious, you’re the only one he’s ever���you know…” Y/n raised a brow at Abigail who simply looked away; she couldn’t figure out what she hated more, the assumptions or the fact that y/n’s heart twinged slightly at the thought of going hunting with Arthur, it being just like old times.

“Fine,” Y/n huffed scooping Jack up under the arm, “Here’s your son back.” Jack’s chubby little fingers reached out for his momma as his aunt handed him over, “But I’m doing this for you.”

“And Arthur,”

“And Arthur.” Letting out a sigh, y/n made her way over to the closed flaps of Arthur’s tent, picking up her hunting jacket along the way. Pausing, she took a breath, before rapping her knuckles across the wooden frame of his camp. “Arthur it’s me.” A pause, a small rustle from within and then he was there, looking down at y/n with a raised brow.

“Miss y/n,” He tried out the words in his mouth, as if her name was a question in itself, “What you doing here?”

“Oh, so I can’t just come and see Mr Morgan whenever I please…is there a queue I need to join?” She feigned looking around.

“Oh, don’t give me that – you know you aint come knocking on my tent for weeks now.”

“Well Arthur, I don’t know if you remember but there was that whole business of Blackwater that somewhat got in the way of our nightly strolls.” Arthur pulled back a little, his brows knitting as he frowned down at her.

“What’s going on y/n? What you want?”

“You really think every time I come see you I want something…I mean, actually now that you say-”

“Y/n-”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding, Morgan! Come on,” She smirked up at him, he shook and lowered his head, his russet hat covering his face leaving only his strong set jaw and bristly beard visible in the candlelight. A grin had melted into his cheeks and y/n couldn’t help but feel a soft flutter in her gut, he was heartbroken over Mary and yet she could still make him to smile. “I was actually letting you know that I’m going hunting, I thought you might wanna join y’know, ride out like old times,”

“Dutch letting you go?” He asked, leaning against the wagon. She rolled her eyes.

“Oh please; Dutch this, Dutch that. Can’t a girl just live?”

“I don’t know y/n, you banged yourself up real good at Blackwater if I remember correctly,” He nodded at her mummified arm.

“I’m fine, besides, it aint my shooting arm,”

“Y/n…” He sighed.

“Come on…fine. If I can convince Dutch to let me go, will you join me? We’ll take the camp and really do it like old times, stay out all night and catch birds as the sun rises.” Arthur gave her a look as if he was on the fence, but that usually already meant he was coming. Y/n didn’t even wait for a response, just smiled real wide and started walking backwards toward Dutch, “Saddle up and meet me by the horses in 10.” Arthur just shook his head and batted her away, disappearing back inside.

Turning around, y/n tiptoed her way past Dutch’s own quarters, peeking in slightly she caught the sight of him in deep discussion with Hosea. Well, there’s no point in disturbing what seems like such an important conversation. Instead, y/n chose to make her way back to Abigail where she could quickly grab a few things before setting off.

“So, you going then?” Abigail grinned up at her, already knowing the answer.

“Yup,”

“Oh good,” Abigail clapped her hands together. Y/n simply rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “You tell Dutch?”

“Um, not quite,”

“What do you mean?” Abigail raised a brow, always the ever-worried mother.

“Come on Abigail, you know Dutch won’t let me out, especially not for a whole night.”

“Course he will, you’re with Arthur,”

“No Abi, I don’t think he will,” Y/n paused her packing and met Abigail’s stare.

“What do you mean?” Her tone was tense.

“Look, Dutch has been treating me real weird since Blackwater, he won’t let me out of his sight. He won’t even let me do watch, no, I stay here in camp where he can see me and do chores. Which would be fine, but we all know that I’m much better out there, in the big wide world.” Y/n returned to packing, “He’s just got spooked from Blackwater a lil and you know how he sees me, he raised me and all.”

“So…what’s your plan?”

“Well…I guess I don’t have one.” Abigail let out a frustrated huff, “Look, don’t be mad! It aint your fault and I can handle Dutch when I get back. I thought tonight I’d focus on Arthur, wasn’t that your plan, come on now Abi.” Abigail simply responded with one of her infamous motherly glares, hands on hips and everything.

“Okay, but it’s getting dark so you best head off now before you loose your way, and y/n…” Bag now packed, y/n was half way out of the tent when she stopped, “Be careful…”

Y/n grinned back.

“Always am.”

 ***

“So, where you wanna go?”

Arthur and y/n had ridden their way out into the fields, far away from any signs of life or civilisation. Free at last. “Since you’re in such a sour mood I’ll let you choose.” Arthur sent her a glare.

“You know, you talking about how sour my mood is…aint making it any less sour.”

“Why are you in a sour mood anyways?” Y/n peeked at him from the corner of her eyes. Their horses had slowed into a rhythmic trot as the flowers and fields passed them by.

“Mary.” It was a gruff, clipped response; but it was enough. Arthur never needed to elaborate on his problems with Mary, it was common knowledge amongst the gang. Hell, it was obvious from day one what was going to eventually happen between the two. “Here, let’s stop here.”

“I’m sorry to hear bout it,” Y/n pulled her horse to a steady stop as they strolled onto a circular ledge, looking out on a cliff drop and the rolling hills that followed, the greenery not stopping until it blurred into the horizon.

“Are you?” Arthur said after a moment, his eyes busy assessing the terrain.

“Arthur,” Y/n snapped to him as if he had hit her, “You know I do.” The two stared at each other, a standoff, then he seemed to soften a little.

“Yeah, yeah I know you do y/n don’t worry. Don’t know what got into me. She’s messing with my head is all.”

“You can say that again,” y/n turned back to her horse, unpacking all the bits and bobs. She began to get a fire going, the crackling flames warming her back as she moved to stand near the ledge, looking out at all the little people and all their little lives.

“Wait stay still a second,” Arthur called out to y/n who of course, didn’t.

“What you doing?” She questioned walking over to him as he fumbled about in his satchel.

“I said stay still woman…almost got it…here.” He pulled out a small, metal box with a look of triumph. “Now,” He instructed holding it up to his face, “Go back to where you were standing.”

“Okay,” Y/n agreed cautiously, walking backwards a few paces, “Here? Wait…you’re not taking a photo of me are you Arthur?”

“What?” He asked, looking up and shrugging his shoulders as if there were no problem.

“Oh Arthur, I don’t want no photos of me taken,”

“Why?”

“Because…” She trailed off. It had been so long since someone had offered to take a photo of her. When it happened, she had venomously refused, spitting out something about keeping her identity secret. But now, looking at Arthur’s innocent smile as he gestured toward the camera, all ideas of protesting against the photo seemed futile. “Oh, all right then, but if I look real bad promise me we’ll burn it on the fire.”

Arthur said nothing, simply smiled wide before holding the camera up to his face once more. Suddenly, she felt incredibly self-conscious of her appearance, her hair was lazily knotted in a braid to keep it away from her face, she was wearing her old work pants and one of John’s old shirts that he had grown out of. She wondered if he thought she was pretty, she wondered if that’s why he wanted a photo of her – she pushed those thoughts away and swallowed. A quick flash, mechanic clunk and it was over.

“Lemme see, lemme see!” Y/n bounded over to Arthur, reaching out for the camera but Arthur swept it out of her grasp holding it high above her head.

“Just wait woman! God…gotta let it develop first then you can see, and then burn it,”

“I was kidding Arthur! You want a photo of me so bad I’ll let you have one – but it’s the only one you getting so you better cherish it.”

“Oh, I will,” He sighed, turning back to the camp and the fire, “I will.” He muttered once more under his breath, his eyes glossy and happy as he carefully rested the camera near his bag.

“Come on, we best settle down,” Y/n sighed, her fingers resting near her gun. The two hunched down together near the edge of the cliff, their feet sloping down with the ground as they watched the last few hours of light spill across the landscape.

“Well if we’re going about this the old way,” Arthur grunted after a moment, before twisting round and grabbing a box from behind him, swinging it around y/n’s eyes widened as she realised what Arthur had snuck off camp.

“Uncle’s secret stash of whiskey,” Y/n stared wide eyed at the crate, “Arthur you didn’t!” She half gasped, half grinned.

“You said it would be just like old times,” He hazily smiled at her, pulling out a bottle and squeezing off the cap. He then looked around, conflicted, “Uh, I didn’t think to grab any cups.”

“Oh, it don’t matter Morgan,” Y/n grinned, grabbing the bottle and taking a swig straight from the lip, “If we’re really doing it like old times, it won’t matter.”

Arthur looked at y/n then, really looked at her. The time of his life when she wasn’t in it had always felt hazy, it had always appeared to him that she had simply just been there, like Hosea and Dutch, even John. Dutch had bundled her home after finding her on the street, she had tried and almost successfully robbed him as he headed back home. She was young, too young to have been living life like that and yet, weren’t they all. He remembered shooting lessons with her John and Dutch as Hosea dipped in and out with scattered pieces and parts of plans.

There had been a time when he was sweet on her. Really sweet on her. They were young, growing up in a wild world where it felt like anything could happen. He never told her, life just seemed to get in the way and, after a while, he just figured she wasn’t into him like that. Maybe there was a part of him that would always be sweet on her, like the way he could never seem to shake away Mary. No, that’s not right. Mary and y/n were different, always had been different and always would be. But then again, what did Arthur Morgan know about love, about women?

“I…have this theory,” She turned to him suddenly, shattering apart his worried thoughts and replacing them with a warm glow.

“Theory? What you doing getting all philosophical on me?” The corner of his eyes crinkled as he grinned back.

“I aint getting philosophical Arthur, it’s just an idea-”

“Okay, okay,” He held up his hands in defence, “What’s this big idea, hm?”

“So…with this Mary business…I think that all she done this past while is talk about how you aint ever gone change, and my theory is that…that aint fair,”

“How come?”

“Because her asking you to give up this life, is exactly like you asking her to give hers; and…I don’t think love should be like that.” The liquor was loosening her tongue, making her slosh a little with her words, “I don’t think you should have to change yourself for love.”

“But aint that the point?” Arthur pondered after a beat, “That love changes you, makes you a better man and what not.” Y/n’s nose crinkled.

“Sure but…there’s a difference between growing with someone compared to changing who you are just so you don’t give them a bad reputation when you walk down the street together,” Arthur reared back a little but ultimately understood there was no malice behind her words, it was just the ugly truth. “I feel like,” She continued, now on a roll, “Mary aint in love with you…or maybe she was at one point but now it’s…I don’t know, hell, the only time I ever met the woman she barely said two words to me.” A soft chuckle, “But…I feel like she’s in love with this version of you, in her head. There’s a reason everyone back at camp, especially the girls, don’t like her Arthur. It’s because she aint like us, she aint ever had to worry about when her next meal gone be or if she’ll get the privilege of sleeping in a bed that night or…”

Arthur’s eyes were steady on the sunset, watching as it swam down over the horizon, disappearing into an inky, spotted night. The sky was surprisingly dull for a sunset, no explosion of colours as the sun sunk lower, no ecstasy of oranges and pinks – just an ever-expanding dull grey hue.

“I don’t like saying it Arthur,” y/n was still going, “Because I know you love her and I know an ounce of love is more than any of us deserve – but please…stop hurting yourself over her, I can’t take it anymore.” Arthur turned his head slightly to the side, peeking at y/n; he wasn’t necessarily upset by what she was saying, just numb to it. I mean, if he didn’t have Mary, then what did he have?

Silence blanketed them as the sun and its warmth slipped over the edge of the world, leaving the cold to creep in from all sides; only battled by the spluttering warmth of the fire. Arthur looked at her, really looked at her.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop loving her y/n.” A pause. He waited for her reaction.

“I know.” She did, and her heart ached for it.

***

The mood and pace picked up from then on. With the world at rest around them, being out in the open night with a crate of whiskey and a wheezing fire – it was enough to feel like they were the only ones who were truly alive. Perhaps, in that moment, they were. Old friends who knew each other better than they knew themselves. A conversation concocted with a mix of reminiscing of the past, laughing about the present, and theorising about the future.

Arthur told y/n that she was going to be married before she knew it. Y/n politely told Arthur that the only instance in which she would ever marry would be for money. Arthur laughed and commented on how it was money that was ruining his relationship, not building it.

They talked about Dutch, about how much they had grown from being scared kids with guns too big for their hands. And all of a sudden, Mary felt a million miles away - Mary didn’t even feel important anymore.

They drank themselves silly, forgetting about the whole point of their little getaway in the first place. Eventually, they curled up against the shrubbery, lying on their backs and looking up at the bottomless sky above them. Not even talking, just enjoying for a moment how the world was spinning underneath them.

***

When Arthur awoke the first thing he noticed was the dryness of his throat. Wincing, he coughed some of the dust out of his lungs as he sat up and then lay back down again, the weight of his head pulling him back.

“God damn.” He grunted – how much had he drank? Still, standing up he shook the dust off him, he knew he had gone through worse, an infamous night with Lenny ringing a bell. The sun was high in the sky meaning that he had slept through all, if not most, of the morning. Sighing he looked around for y/n. And looked again. Something wasn’t right.

She wasn’t there; not curled up next to him, not draped across the sleeping rolls, not near the horses – nowhere. She was gone. An ugly, familiar knot twisted its way into Arthur’s gut. Trying to douse the fire inside of him he calmed himself with the idea that she could have just gone for a walk or pulled through on the hunting after all – but her horse was still there.

“Oh no…no…no.” He choked standing up. He couldn’t lose her, not now. His fears climaxed, his whole world skidding to a stop as he noticed a note made from rich paper taped to the whiskey box.

Arthur Morgan,

You don’t seem to want to talk about Dutch. Maybe your friend will.

-        P

Numb, he went completely numb. But that feeling didn’t compare to when he had eventually stumbled back into camp, the note limb by his side as looked up and saw an irate Dutch waiting for him, his eyes black.

“Where, the hell, is she Morgan?”

next part

[dani-ellie03]

Fic: Wednesday’s Child (6/?)

Title: Wednesday’s Child Summary: The next time Emma Swan wanted magical help, she was on her own. Because now they were stuck with a pint-sized savior who clearly had an attitude problem and a terrified but pretending not to be pre-pirate. Spoilers: If you’re current, we’re good. Rating/Warning: PG-13, mostly for safety. Family angst/fluff, as per usual. Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time and its characters were created by Eddy Kitsis and Adam Horowitz and are owned by ABC. I’m just borrowing them but I’ll put them back when I’m finished! Author's Note: For the purposes of this story, we can pretend that Wilby came over in the first Curse and has just been hanging out at the animal shelter this whole time, yes? O:)

—–

{1} {2} {3} {4} {5}

At ff.net and below.

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Apparently, little Killian had never had such a large wardrobe in his young life. "This is all for me?" he murmured, his bright blue eyes wide as they took in the sheer amount of clothing now piled on the bed in his new room.

"Looks like it, buddy," Charming replied as he swallowed his own surprise. It appeared as if Regina had emptied her attic of all of Henry's outfits! There were jeans, t-shirts, sweaters, sweatshirts, and pajama sets as far as the eye could see. And they'd only opened the bag with the boys' clothing; they still had a whole bag for Emma lying in wait for her to go through.

Charming reached for a pair of jeans and folded them. After watching him for a beat, Killian started doing the same. The boy ran his hand over each item he picked up and it took Charming a moment to remember that the Land Without Magic textiles had a different feel than the ones from the Enchanted Forest. "I'm sure these clothes aren't the same as what you're used to," Charming said apologetically.

"It's all right," the boy assured him as he folded a soft cotton PJ top. "They seem less scratchy than the clothes I have back there."

"I'm sure they are," Charming smiled. "You know, you're handling this all very well. I know from experience that it's not easy to wake up and find yourself in a different world."

Killian shrugged somewhat sheepishly. "You and Mary Margaret and Emma and Regina are all very kind. That helps."

Warmth filled Charming's heart. This young boy was so different from the Killian he knew. He was shy and withdrawn and quiet, as if afraid of making waves. Charming didn't know much about Killian's past but he did know he was abandoned quite young. From the way little Killian was asking for Liam and not a parent, Charming assumed he'd already been left in his brother's care but some internal instinct told him that, from the child's perspective, it hadn't been all that long.

If Charming and his family was helping to fill that hole in this little boy's life even just a tiny bit, this was all worth it.

Together they made quick work of the folding and putting away of the new clothes. The aroma of the freshly baked cookies had finally wafted up the stairs, making Charming's mouth water. "What do you say, bud?" he asked when the boy closed the dresser drawer for the last time. "Think you're ready to go back downstairs?"

"If what I'm smelling is the cookies we made, yes, please."

Charming chuckled, ruffled the boy's hair, and led him back downstairs to the kitchen.

Snow had set a small plate of cookies on the kitchen table, where Emma was already seated and nibbling on their handiwork. Killian looked up at Snow, silently asking permission to join her. When she nodded, the boy smiled a thank you, sat down across from Emma, and grabbed a cookie.

The second the warm cookie and melted chocolate hit his taste buds, a grin lit his face. "Chocolate chip cookies are delicious!" he exclaimed.

Charming, Snow, and Regina all shared a smile. "I'm glad you like it, Killian," Snow said.

"It's much better this way than it is as the uncooked dough."

Emma gave a teasingly offended gasp. "No way! Cookie dough is delicious, too. It's so good, they even put it in ice cream now."

The adults shared a chuckle. "That they do, Emma," Regina said, earning a small smile from the little girl. "And now if you'll excuse me, I have to get to work."

At once understanding that work was not the mayor's office but the vault in order to research their little predicament, Snow nodded. "Of course. Let me walk you to the door."

The children and Charming bid Regina goodbye, Killian adding his thanks for the clothes she'd brought them. After the women left the kitchen, Charming poured his little daughter and son-in-law each a tall glass of milk. He set the glasses down in front of the kids and pretended not to notice when Emma almost imperceptibly wrinkled her nose.

Adult Emma wasn't a fan of milk, either, preferring it almost exclusively in her cereal. Still, a glass of milk was the perfect accompaniment to freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, and Charming was determined to give his little girl the quintessential childhood snack.

Charming sat down at the table, observing the children while nibbling on a cookie himself. While he couldn't deny the deep longing in his heart to see his adult baby girl and her husband again, getting to see them like this was more than he could ever dreamed. Emma and Killian both had terribly lonely childhoods, resulting in deep pain that Charming couldn't even begin to figure out how to heal.

He remembered those early days with Emma, those days when he had to fight to get her to let him in. He fought not by pushing or by force but with simple patience. He had let Emma come to him in her own time, all the while gently reminding her that he was her father and he loved her and he would help her in any way she needed.

And Killian … he was a man who'd desperately needed a friend. Charming had had no real intention of being that friend but somehow it had happened without either of them realizing it. Charming's affection for the man had grown as he watched him love his daughter and now he couldn't imagine his life without him.

But seeing them now, as two small children who were alone in the world, Charming wanted nothing more than to protect them with all that he had.

Maybe this little disaster had a silver lining after all. Maybe this was their opportunity to do some healing on all sides. He and Snow could spend time with their little girl as a little girl and in so doing, they could give two lonely little children the love they desperately wanted and needed.

"What are we going to do when we finish our snack?" Emma asked, startling Charming out of his reverie.

What indeed? Considering that he and Snow hadn't anticipated having to entertain two ten-year-olds today, they didn't exactly have any activities planned. "I could take you on a tour of the farm," he said after a moment of thought. "You haven't met the animals yet!"

A suddenly interested Killian asked, "Animals?"

Emma just looked at him warily.

"We have six sheep and four chickens," Charming affirmed, "and a dog named Wilby."

The prospect of meeting a dog seemed to perk Emma up.

When Snow returned to the kitchen, Charming told her what they'd decided. "That sounds like a wonderful idea!" she exclaimed. "And while you're meeting the animals, I can clean up after our baking lesson."

A flush of pink colored Killian's cheeks; the result of his accidental flour volcano still littered the counter and the floor. Snow shot him a smile, telling him it was okay, and both he and Emma relaxed a bit in their chairs.

After the children had eaten their fill of cookies, they brought their plates and glasses to the sink. Once again, Killian observed Emma for a beat and took his cues from her. The poor boy was trying so hard to fit in and do everything correctly. Charming wished he'd let himself relax a bit but he also knew the relaxation would come in time.

Once outside, Charming introduced the children to the chickens first. "Here we have Penny, Dixie, Pixie, and Henny," he said, pointing each of them out in turn.

A bright smile lit Killian's face. "They rhyme!"

"Yes, they do," Charming smiled. Snow had named Henny and Penny as a teasing reference to the story of Chicken Little. When Emma had heard the rhyming names, she'd christened the other two hens Pixie and Dixie, who were not chickens at all but cartoon mice she remembered from her childhood.

"They're all girls?" Emma asked now.

"Yes. We always have fresh eggs. You and Killian can collect the eggs tomorrow morning, if you want."

Both children smiled at him, clearly indicating that they wanted. Charming smiled back and filed that activity in his memory banks for the morning.

After the children had properly met the chickens, he walked them over to the sheep pen. "And here we have Daisy, Ash, Iris, Linden, Basil, and Holly. Three boys and three girls."

"They're all named after plants," Emma pointed out somewhat unnecessarily.

"Very good," Charming smiled. "They came to us with those names and we didn't want to change them since sheep will answer to their names."

Emma nodded in understanding. "May we pet them?" Killian asked.

"Sure thing. They're very gentle."

While the children reached through the split rail fencing of the pen to pet the sheep, Charming whistled for Wilby. The dog responded to his master's call and trotted over to the pen from the far end of the yard. The second Emma spotted him, her eyes lit up. "Is that Wilby?"

"Yes indeed," Charming replied.

Killian turned to watch as Emma held her hand out for Wilby to sniff. When the dog nuzzled his head against her hand, she knelt down on the grass to pet him. The dog leaned into the petting for a beat before resting his front paws on Emma's thighs and planting a big sloppy lick on her cheek. She giggled, a sweet sound that made Charming's heart soar.

"Can we take him to the yard to play?" Emma asked, still giggling between vigorous dog licks.

"Go for it," Charming laughed. Emma and Killian ran off into the yard as one, laughing in delight when Wilby playfully chased after them.

Those kids are going to tire that dog out before too long, Charming thought happily. He could stand there and watch them play forever but he knew he should formulate some kind of plan for when Wilby was done. The kids were sure to still have plenty of energy.

Charming racked his brain and continued to come up empty. Before he had the chance to get frustrated, though, he heard someone calling, "David!" He looked over his shoulder to find Henry crossing the yard.

Oh no, Charming thought as his gaze darted towards the children. Did Henry know yet? If he didn't, the poor boy was going to be in for a huge shock. After all, it wasn't every day one came home to find that one's mother and stepfather had turned into preteens.

Thinking quickly, Charming dashed over to his grandson. "Listen, Henry, before you get any further into the yard–"

"I already know, Grandpa," he said softly. Charming let out a breath of relief and realized belatedly that he should have known Henry already knew. He'd called him by his name to get his attention and had only called him Grandpa when he was sure Emma and Killian couldn't hear him. "Mom called me a little bit ago to ask where I'd put some old clothes and she told me why she needed them. Plus I saw Gramma before I came out here. I just wanted to see them."

Charming smiled at the giddiness swimming in his grandson's eyes and led him closer to the children. Henry inhaled sharply at the sight of his little mother and tiny stepfather making poor Wilby chase them around the yard. "Oh my God," he murmured, slapping a hand over his mouth to muffle a thrilled giggle. "They're so cute!"

"Don't let either of them hear you say that," Charming snickered. The boy spoke the truth, though. Little Emma and little Killian were adorable, especially now that, for the moment at least, they'd seemingly forgotten their ordeal and were simply having fun being kids.

It was Killian who spotted Henry first. He stopped in his tracks at the sight of a new face, causing Emma and Wilby to almost crash right into him. The children whispered to each other for a beat before heading over to Charming and Henry.

Now that he was seeing them up close, poor Henry couldn't seem to find his words. His jaw dropped open as his gaze darted from his mom to his stepdad and back again. "Emma, Killian, this is Henry," Charming said, filling the silence with introductions for the children's benefit. "He's the other boy who's staying with us."

"Hello," Killian said somewhat shyly.

"Hi," Emma said.

"It's nice to meet you," Henry said, finally finding his voice.

"We're playing in the yard with Wilby," Killian explained, not realizing that Henry had been watching them for a little while. "Do you want to play with us?"

Charming smiled as the expression on his grandson's face changed from one of shock to one of excited amusement. The boy was evidently thinking about all the fun he could have with his mother and stepfather now that they were younger than he was.

Henry glanced from an out of breath Emma to a clearly exhausted Wilby, who'd flopped down at Emma's feet, and smiled. "That sounds like fun but I think Wilby's tired."

Wilby whimpered as if in agreement.

All four of them chuckled. "I know what we can do instead, though," Henry continued. "Who wants to play video games?"

"What are video games?" a perplexed Killian asked.

"Do you have Super Mario Kart?" a suddenly excited Emma asked at the same time. "The last group home I was in had it and I could do Rainbow Road without falling off!"

Charming and Henry both grinned. Henry was going to relish introducing Killian to video games and racing Emma was clearly going to present a challenge. Video games were a go.

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Chapter Seven