#last one is courtesy of the patron discord!!!!! i was giving my Thoughts and said the most bittersweet part was no real oakworthy ending

[lazylittledragon]

the s2 finale broke me but i'm being so brave about it

[eirian-houpe]

Disparate Pathways - Chapter 2

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold

Characters: Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Belle (Once Upon a Time), Maurice | Moe French, Gaston (Once Upon a Time), Spinster(s) (Once Upon a Time: Think Lovely Thoughts), Mad Hatter | Jefferson, Blue Fairy | Mother Superior, Black Fairy (Once Upon a Time), Baelfire | Neal Cassidy, Emma Swan, Prince Charming | David Nolan, Colette (Once Upon a Time), Red Riding Hood | Ruby, Widow Lucas | Granny, Dove (Once Upon a Time), Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Wicked Witch of the West | Zelena

Additional Tags: Abusive Parents, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Violence, Gun Violence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Torture, Dubious Consent, Eventual Smut, UST, First Time, Drama & Romance, Kidnapping, Extortion

Summary: Gold has a past, a past that he has rejected, but it seems one that will not let him go.  Belle, daughter of Governor Maurice French has been kidnapped, along with her mother, and just as the authorities raid the organization that is holding her hostage, decides to make her own bid for freedom, unknowingly derailing an undercover sting, and Agent Milnor has not choice but to take her into 'protective custody,' but is he all that he seems?  As the threads of the story grow more tangled and the threat to Belle, and to Gold, her appointed protector, grow ever more real, a growing, mutual attraction makes everything far more desperate and far too personal for Gold to ignore what he knows to be the truth.

Read on AO3

[Chapter 1]

Chapter 2 - When Now Is the Wrong Time

Jefferson Milnor walked around six blocks out of his way, making turns at random, and heading into a late night drug store to buy himself a pack of gum and some tylenol, just to make sure he wasn’t being followed, before he headed to the seedier side of town, where ladies, and gents of the night propositioned him on street corners, and told him he didn’t really want to head into the gaudy strip joint he was headed for, and really wanted to go home with them instead.

He turned them all down, and silently paid his entry fee, passing beneath the neon, animated flashing lights that marked the building he sought, before slipping into the assigned booth.  He closed his eyes and rested his head back against the wall, totally ignoring the erotic dancer that could be seen through the gap in the grate that separated her from the clientele.

“The weather’s on the change, Ice clouds invading,” the voice from the next booth murmured softly, and Jefferson took a deep breath, counting to ten in his head before he even thought about answering. He hated this… the necessity for it, the cliche of it all that his handler insisted playing into.

“Pressure lines joint in faint discord and the stormwatch brews,” he answered, all the while thinking, Why ruin a great song by using it as a fucking code?

“Are you safe?” his handler asked.

“Until I came here,” Jefferson answered, ill tempered.  “What’s wrong with the fucking library every once in a while?  Or hell, take me to see a goddamn movie!”

“I see your language hasn’t gotten any better since you’ve been under.”

“You haven’t seen these people, Rab,” Jefferson said, “They’d make a saint swear.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Rab said. He paused then, waiting while there was a lull in the music as the dancers switched, and didn’t speak until the heavy beat started pounding through Jefferson’s body again.  “You’ve seen the girl? The mother?”

“Yeah,” Jefferson confirmed, “But… they’re keeping them under lock and key, especially the girl, and separate. I don’t know how the hell you think this is going to go down.”

“Well you better think of something fast,” Rab said quietly.  “It’s tomorrow.”

“ What !” Jefferson spat the single word as though it were the worst kind of curse word ever , following up with another string of expletives, before calming enough to say,“You can’t.  No, absolutely not.”

“Tomorrow, Jeff.” Rab repeated, “The Governor won’t wait any more, and who can blame him.  This is his wife and daughter we’re talking about.”

Jefferson shook his head even though he knew Rab couldn’t see him. “Force their hand like this and it’s gonna get ugly fast. You go back and tell the Governor that.”

“He won’t be swayed,” Rab said. “It’s going down tomorrow, Sunshine, and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“The hell there isn’t,” Jefferson said, and started to get up.

“Don’t fuck this up, Agent.”

“Don’t agent me,” he snarled, and before Rab could do anything about it, and completely uncaring of the establishment’s policy of one patron per booth, he pushed in through the door of his handler’s booth, grabbed him by the lapels, and pinned him to the flimsy wall. “What the fuck is the point in me spending years UC with this band of fucking maniacs if no one is going to listen to my advice?”

“Take it easy, Jefferson,” Rab said, grasping his wrists and trying to push the taller, stronger man away. “I didn’t come here to get your advice. I came here as a courtesy to tell you that the takedown is happening tomorrow.”

“Take it easy?” Jefferson spat, and shifted his grasp on his handler to press and arm across his throat, making Rab’s scrabbling against his hold a little more frantic, more urgent. “Have you any idea the kind of crap I’ve been through! Years and years of it, and here we stand with the chance to take these motherfuckers down and  for good this time, and you tell me my go/no go role in all this has been not only undermined, but tossed out of the fucking window! Well fuck you.  Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.”

He let Rab go, and watched as his handler bent over, leaning his hands on his knees, and trying to catch his breath.

“I’m sorry, man,” Rab gasped, “truly.  I didn’t call this and I tried to give you time, honestly.”

Jefferson shook his head. “I don’t want to hear your excuses, Rab. I’ve busted my balls these last two weeks… took fucking risks to make sure to get everything in place, and keep the French women safe.  Well I’m telling you, not asking .  Wait.  Two more days, three at most.  If the cavalry comes in tomorrow we will lose our only chance of taking the head of this rancid pit of vipers.  She will go to ground and it might be another ten years before we catch the slightest hint of her again.”

He was pacing as he spoke, his thumb nail up against his teeth, the words tumbling around it, and his body hummed with pent up frustration.  He already knew Rab’s answer.

“We’ll take some of them in.  Someone will turn, make a deal for a reduced sentence, and we’ll use it to haul them all in, every single one of them, including Duneach.”

Jefferson just shook his head again, and closed his eyes with a sigh, finally ceasing his pacing, and just stood with his head down, breathing hard as he opened and closed his hands, like someone itching for a fight.

“I’ll send you a heads up at thirty minutes.” Rab said softly. “Just tell me you know how to get out and maintain the--”

“--integrity of my cover, yeah… thanks for nothing. I know the fucking drill.  I got out the last time you morons fucked it up, and no one on the inside the wiser.” Jefferson spat.

“You and I both know that’s not quite true.”

Jefferson looked up at Rab, meeting his eyes steadily, before he murmured a soft, “Good as.”

“You make me laugh, Milnor,” Rab said, “You really do.  You stand there for a good thirty minutes ranting at me about how it’s all going to go to crap, and at the last attempt at taking these guys out, you only went and read in perhaps the single most dangerous person you could possibly have revealed yourself to.”

“No,” Jefferson said flatly and with a certainty in his voice. “Not true. He’s out, and he won’t go back. He’s not a risk.”  Not like that, anyway.

“You don’t know that,” Rab said.

The red-head had long since fled, as Jefferson made his way down from his higher point as carefully and as swiftly as he could while making sure there were no more hostiles about.  The man writhed on the ground, conscious, surprisingly still trying to get legs beneath him, to walk on his ruined ankle.

Jefferson reached his side, kicking the man’s gun away, trying to put the man at ease, assure him that everything would be all right, but the man thought nothing of his own safety; his own comfort and health - only of the boy’s.

Jefferson sighed, pushing away the memory and the way his own emotions responded to it; knowing that the only way to have saved the man’s life was exactly as he did - to take him down him self with a non fatal shot.

“ Please...” the man whispered through the agony of the injury Jefferson had given him. “...help me save my son.”

“Yes,” he said softly.  “I do.”

[ko-fanatic]

Blue Blood Tastes The Same (part 1)

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club

Summary: The smell of "Commoner's" coffee and blood hung in the air, and Haruhi considered her position. She'd never really considered herself as weak before, but now... She was like prey. One day, Tamaki would decide to eat her, and there was nothing she could do about it... Right?Honestly, she doesn't know why he doesn't just get it over with...

Haruhi Fujioka had never met a ghoul. She lived in a fairly comfortable neighbourhood, went to a prestigious school, and didn’t really talk to strangers… or many people, for that matter. She exchanged pleasantries, was civil, and that was about it. She had a goal to reach, and that took precedence over being some sort of socialite. So… Why was she in this sort of situation?

All she wanted to do was find a quiet place to study, the libraries (all four of them) full of chattering students; which meant a lot of wandering around and hoping she could find a room that was both quiet and available for student use. Ouran was a big place, but she had to make her way to the music room she’d heard was “abandoned” in the hopes of saving some of her precious time to study.

If a time machine was ever invented, she was going to go back in time and warn herself. Seriously.

While silent outside, when she opened the door, there was music and chatter, forks and knives scraping against fine china. It looked like some kind of fancy restaurant, some boys going around in suits and aprons, plates and trays balanced effortlessly, and light piano music dancing in the air; courtesy of a blonde boy sitting at a grand piano.

Damn rich people. They could be using this time to study, but here they are. Why did Ouran even have a restaurant up here, anyway?

The music stopped, a discordant note cutting through the atmosphere, and she found a couple of people staring, namely the servers. There was some forced sounding chatter, which was a little jarring in itself, but before she could really think much of it she realised that the young pianist was rushing over towards her.

“Excuse me, sir, but this is a private club,” He explained, stopping a little too close but nothing all that invasive, “You need a membership, I’m afraid; so, I have to ask that you leave. My apologies, but rules are rules. Right, Kyoya?”

A thin, black haired boy peered up from where he was sitting on an over-stuffed, ornate couch, his glasses catching the light. If he didn’t look like he could be blown away by a strong gust of wind, she might’ve been scared; in fact, if she were brutally honest with herself, she did feel some minor, instinctual tugging in her gut, but she ignored it.

“Yes. I’m afraid you’ll have to leave,” The boy – Kyoya – nodded, slowly rising from his seat. His uniform was similar to the other waiters – she supposed that was the most apt description – but not as fitted. His waistcoat was loose and awkwardly cinched in at the waist, his thin thighs swallowed by his trousers, which were only really kept up by his belt. It was… alarming, in all honesty; he looked like some sort of high-fashion concept sketch.

“How do you know I don’t have a membership?” She challenged. She didn’t want one, obviously, but more to be difficult. They hadn’t done anything to check and didn’t even know her name – that blond guy was under the impression she was a boy after all, not that she really cared either way. Was it the uniform? It was probably the uniform…

“We make an effort to remember our dear clients in order to form a closer, more personal relationship,” The blond explained with a flourish, Kyoya coming over to join the conversation. She wasn’t that bothered, really; her gaze shifted over the room and its patrons.

It was a nice place with tasteful decorations, like some expensive restaurant out of a movie, and it seemed like they went all out. As expected of students here, she supposed. There were candles and flowers at every table, the servers carrying on as if she weren’t there, despite their initial staring. Meat was popular, it seemed, but she supposed that they could certainly afford it – wait.

The dishes were just meat, no vegetables or side dishes to be seen, and a lot of it looked almost raw. That was enough to put her on edge, even if she thought it was ridiculous; blue meat was supposed to be a delicacy, right? Still, something in her told her to run.

That was when she spotted one girl, sitting on her own, frozen with her fork halfway to her mouth. Nothing was particularly notable about her, accept for something she really couldn’t ignore; on said fork was… an eyeball. A human eyeball, she was sure. It stole the oxygen from her lungs, and she had to dig her heels in to stop herself from taking off in a sprint right then and there.

They were ghouls. If she tried to run, being as slow as she was, they would catch up to her in no time. She could be staring at her murderer right that second, the chipper blond might look somewhat flamboyant, but the tailored waistcoat and shirt basically flaunted the fact her was strong; especially compared to the sickly boy next to him.

“Yeah, fine, I… I’ll go,” She stammered out, and then cursed herself for it. There was a shift in his expression, the cheery smile fading into something darker and a lot toothier, but his eyes. As with all ghouls, his eyes were the thing that scared her the most, black surrounding red and gazing at her like she was his prey.

Because, in that moment, that was exactly what Haruhi Fujioka was.

The worst thing was, they caught the attention of a couple of other servers; two identical boys with ginger hair. They seemed curious, before they broke out into Cheshire cat grins, their eyes turning those same, horrific colours.

Despite how idiotic, how futile, it might have been; she ran.

Her shoes hit the marble floor at such a rate that she actually hurt her feet, and she ran faster than she ever had before. But it was futile. He moved far too fast, and while she just about managed to get down the corridor, it wasn’t enough. He tackled her to the ground, looming over her for a second before taking a deep inhale, the groan sounding too similar to something she didn’t want to think about.

“You smell delicious, human,” He growled, and all she could do was stare into those demonic, glowing eyes as he licked his lips, “There are certain doors you shouldn’t open, you know. If you were a ghoul, you might have enjoyed your stay; now, however, I can’t let you live. Besides… I’m sure you’ll taste heavenly ~”

“Please don’t!” She tried to beg, tears in her eyes as a string of drool dropped from the corner of his mouth and onto her cheek. It was all she could do, scared out of her mind and about to be eaten, “Or… If you do… Please don’t tell dad I ran away. I don’t want him to… To think… Even though he will…”

She was just babbling. Not that she’d be able to talk her way out anyway, being underneath a hungry ghoul, but all she could do was stutter out that one request, screwing her eyes closed and bracing herself for the pain. Hopefully, it’d be quick, but this moment seemed to last a lifetime and… nothing was happening.

She slowly opened her eyes, and a beautiful pair of blue irises greeted her; not the red and black sclera from before. There was something there, some shift in his expression that made him seem almost human, an unidentifiable emotion. It was slow, but unexpected, when he pushed himself to his feet. It didn’t look like he knew what was happening himself, his eyes wide and acting as if he was on autopilot, and he just kept looking at her the whole time – right in the eye.

“Boss?”

The inquiry startled her, and the staring match broke. The two twins stood there, eyes red and black and inhuman, but their faces softer; more questioning than anything else. There was a moment of silence, of deliberation, and the blond spoke low and calm.

“I’m not hungry enough right now, not for a delicacy like it will be…” He stated, still looking a little shell-shocked beneath his calm façade, but the twins didn’t seem to notice the tense, silent atmosphere.

“Well, boss, maybe we should eat her ourselves -?” One purred, only to be cut off by a loud growl.

“IT’S MINE!” The “boss” bit, snarling and baring his teeth, before that cooler air took over. It was quiet again, for a moment or two, before he turned on his heel and walked back the way he came. He paused for only a moment before disappearing, just enough to give instructions that were obviously for her, “It will come to the club tomorrow, after school. It will not go home. It will not hide. It will do as it’s told or be torn to pieces.”

She could barely process it over the confusion, not knowing what happened, but the twins merely looked at each other and shrugged. Their eyes returned to their normal – or, not ghoulish – colours, and gave her their own goodbyes.

“Looks like it’s your lucky day, human; better do as you’re told!”

A/N: I just want to make it clear. Attitudes and personalities change with AUs, and I want to point this out before I get a million reviews saying they're OOC. Tamaki's thing is going to be explored a little later, don't worry. In fact, everything will. Patience is a virtue, after all...

Also, comments help inspire my productivity, so please go ahead! :)

[fanfictionconnectionwordpress]

Mystic Messenger Fanfiction | JuminxMC Good Ending Continued | Ch. 3 Mother's Business

***Don’t forget to subscribe to the email list for access to R-Rated Scenes and my monthly newsletter. You can support my writing on patreon and get access to my VIP Discord Server or other goodies like early chapter releases and hidden scenes. JuminxMC Good Ending Continued Chapter Directory ~Let’s Connect! FFC***

Jumin had invited me over to his penthouse to decorate and have dinner, with only a week and a half until our wedding, it felt like we needed some time to just be together, especially with all of the stress. I had arrived before him and gotten started looking around. Of course, a professional interior designer had been the one to decorate his home before, and there weren't really any true touches of himself. He'd explained that everything had been chosen to give a calm atmosphere and prevent depression, but seeing how empty and cold it was of personal touches made me feel as though it served its purpose, sure, but it wasn't making true impact on having a home.

The door opened and I nearly wanted to run into his arms as I saw my handsome gentleman walk through the door, but restrained myself so as not to startle him, going to greet him with a huge smile. Jumin had flinched once when I went to hug him before he’d accepted it, apologizing and saying it was something about a memory that he didn’t wish to discuss. I just tried to focus on making sure I didn’t remind him of that again. "Welcome home, honey bunny."

The smile that greeted me in response warmed my heart tremendously as he bent to press a kiss to my lips, making it last before pulling away. "I can't wait to have you greet me like that every day. All the stress of my day has melted away in a matter of seconds."

His stress relief would only last a few short moments before his phone went off. Jumin at first pulled it from his pocket, I suspected fully intending to hang up, but then he seemed to recognize the number, a look of shock on his face as he paused. He was just staring at the phone, his gray eyes wide. If it was important, he needed to pick up before they hung up. "Jumin, answer it. It's okay."

By the look on his face, it wasn't exactly okay. I felt anxious. Why would the caller ID be disturbing him this much? I had seen him sigh and ignore a call, even from work, stating that if it was so important they would email him and he could deal with it that way, but I had never seen him behave like this. It was unsettling to say the least.

What was even more unsettling, Jumin picked up, slowly bringing the phone to his ear as his other hand went to undo his tie ever so slightly. "Hello, mother. To what do I owe this phone call?" His mother? Did he mean his stepmother or? "It's been two years since you last spoke to me, I hardly think that's your place to give me or my future wife advice."

The woman who hadn't spoken to him in years. His birth mother. Why was she calling? Of course, she had been sent an invitation to our wedding, and that was the only thing I could think of. Maybe it was something innocuous like trying to butt in on the wedding planning? I had to hope that it wasn't anything further than that.

Jumin turned, looking right into my eyes for a moment before his gaze flicked away again, Elizabeth the 3rd walking up to him and rubbing against his pant leg, walking between and around his legs repetitively. This seemed to give him some comfort, and I blew him a kiss before he was replying to something else his mother was saying. "I would rather you didn't speak to her directly. It's not your place. If you have something to say to her you can do it through me."

Now he seemed to be getting angry. His eyes had gone darker, a stern look on his face as he set his jaw, his brows furrowing ever so slightly. He really was a beautiful man, but that wasn't a luxury I had to enjoy at the moment because I was so worried about what was going on.

He valued family and tradition; it was a part of who he was, but his mother had been living abroad for years, and it was no secret to me that she didn't talk to her only son. Still, as much as he was right that she had virtually abandoned him and had no right to step into his life as she pleased, Jumin wasn't one to deny social courtesy. It seemed like whatever his mother wanted, she wasn't backing down. "As you wish, but keep it under a half hour. I will hang up for her after that time." He was making a decision for me again, but this wasn't one I was at all in opposition of. Jumin held out his phone towards me, a sigh escaping him before he met my eyes. "My mother wants to speak with my future wife."

My legs were shaky as I stepped forward towards him again, he had moved away from me as he took the call, but now I was standing right by him, pausing like he had before picking up the phone at his nod to me. As I put the phone to my ear, Jumin pulled me into his arms, his warmth spreading through me when I hadn't even realized I was cold. "Um...hello?"

"So why are you marrying Jumin?" Wow...her voice sounded so...clinical. She didn't even refer to Jumin as her son, just Jumin. I furrowed my brows as Jumin tightened his arms around me. "Well, because I love him." The woman on the other end of the line started to laugh, this high-pitched sound almost like a cackle.

What was with her? It was starting to irritate me even with Elizabeth the 3rd rubbing at our legs and Jumin softly rubbing my back. He was surprisingly clingy, that was something I'd learned early on, because he just wanted to be loved and on his own terms. It was very rare for me to touch him first because of how he would sometimes flinch, but if he was initiating contact, he was all over me.

Once she was done with her cackling, I'd rather she'd kept laughing for a half hour. "I thought I loved his father too, but you get tired of him never coming home on time. All the extravagant gifts and parties, they're wonderful, but when you're stuck at home with nothing to do, a maid cleaning everything, a cook making the food, you'll fall out of love too. Here’s the tip for which I’ll be wanting a cut. That's when you need to get pregnant, that will secure your alimony."

Before she’d said that last bit, on some level, I felt a little bit of sympathy. This woman had been stifled, shut up at home with nothing to do while her husband put work first. I had gotten a taste of that in my days staying with Jumin before the party. Still....I accepted his work as a part of him, and if she had truly been meant for and loved his father, she would have too or at least tried to solve the problem in a different way.

I stiffened, somewhat worried about the way I was about to respond, none too nicely. Jumin stopped rubbing my back, pulling back just a little to look down at me with concern at the change in my body language. Our eyes met just as I responded. "I'm not going to get pregnant to trap him. Our children will come out of love." The look on Jumin's face changed quickly.

There was just a flash of anger and sadness as he understood what his mother had been trying to suggest, what that meant for his birth. Not that Jumin had thought his mother loved him, but it was still a shock to realize that he truly had been a business choice. Still, his face changed again to one of affection as his hand ended up at my chin. I let him take the phone away with his other hand, hanging it up and tossing it onto the couch before bending to kiss me.

Jumin was slow, his hand finding the small of my back to press my body closer as my heart raced in my chest. The phone was going off again, probably his mother angry that she hadn't gotten her full half hour. When Jumin abruptly broke away from me, his gray eyes almost a dark obsidian, I thought he was going to answer it, but instead he just stepped away from me and adjusted his cuff links. "My apologies, my love, but I need to stop before I go too far."

We hadn't even talked about children, but I certainly hadn't expected that reaction. A flush filled my face thinking about what he meant about going too far. Jumin was mostly a nominal Christian, he didn't actively attend church. It was more of a tradition choice, but because of his love for tradition, we were going to wait until marriage.

"I'm sorry...about your mother." I felt like it needed to be said and Jumin gave me a small smile. "It's alright. It's better than dealing with my father's current wife." I blinked at the way his words turned sour. Was that just because of how much he hated his father's womanizing or for a more sinister reason? If he were talking to anyone else, no emotion would have dipped into that sentence at all.

I decided that it wasn't the time to bring it up. There was so much going on with the wedding only a week and a half away. No one could even get a hold of V and Seven was acting strange and depressed again. Yoosung was particularly worried. Hopefully we would be able to find V before the wedding, but until then, we were moving forward, our happiness together within reach. Even this added stress of his mother’s desires wasn’t going to ruin our wedding. We were meant to be together, and Jumin needed me by his side.

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