#my fridge is broken and it's wasting so much energy and we have no money for either the energy or a new fridge

[nymphigeon]

Roses Have Thorns

♡ Pairing; Jungkook x Reader

♡ Genre; Angst, Fluff, Fantasy!AU, Supernatural!AU, S2L, Student!Jungkook, Wizard!Jungkook, Angel!Reader, Demon!Reader, Student!Reader

♡ Warnings (for this chapter); Swearing, mentions of stabbing, an attack

♡ Rating; NC-17

♡ Words; 2893

♡ Summary; A girl forced to live in fear because of her own power. Even though she isn’t supposed to exist, she wants to live. She’ll just make sure that she breaks herself over and over until there is nothing left of her. He, of course, won’t let her.

Series masterlist

 Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three

Chapter Two

“Haeun? Is this yours?” You ask as you walk into your mansion’s private library. In the middle of the library stands a long table with chairs all round. Only one of the chairs is taken. “I found this glass looking thing in my room, but I can’t remember having anything like it.” You open the palm of your hand to show the item mentioned.

Haeun doesn’t look up from her book, but somehow still knows what you’re talking about. “It’s a regeneration crystal. As long as you keep it on you the crystal will heal all wounds until it’s drained of power. After that you can keep it as a pretty rock or throw it out if you wish. A gift from one of mother’s clients. We all have one.”

Despite spending her time reading a book, she couldn’t have looked more bored. You can’t read the title on the cover with the way she’s holding it, but if you had to guess it’s probably something college related.

“Why would they gift regeneration crystals? They’re crazy expensive and it’s not like one of us gets stabbed every day.” You look at the tiny crystal in your hand with a puzzled look. For the longest time these crystals were thought to be a myth. Something someone thought of while writing their newest fantasy thriller.

Everyone claiming they had one got called crazy and eventually, nobody spoke of them anymore. Too scared to be criticized by a large number of people, these owners of the regeneration crystals got silenced.

It wasn’t until a group of researches accidentally stumbled upon a small warehouse filled with the crystals that the supposed myth was proven to be reality. A few powerful witches had been creating them, hoping to be able to distribute them among those joining the military.

Back then the crystals weren’t nearly as powerful or small as they are now, but as a myth proven true all the tabloids were filled with the news. Obviously the researches saw money in the crystals, and instead of giving them to those that needed them for free like the witches wanted, they sold them off to those with power.

Needles to say the creators were angry and stopped producing them. Some say they still created the crystals in secret, giving them off to the ones they trusted as soon as they were done so nobody could selfishly steal them, though this was never confirmed.

It wasn’t until a few years later that researches found another type of witches who were able to make them. These individuals had a completely different mindset compared to the original inventors, and decided to team up with the researchers, creating the crystals to sell them.

Sadly, both types of witches that were able to produce these see-through stones slowly died out, leaving just a handful all over the world. The crystals got rarer by the day, prices skyrocketing. If you’re lucky you’ll meet a nice witch sometime during your life who will create you a free crystal. If not, you must be ready to pay a fortune.

“Should you really be talking though? If anything you need it the most out of us all.” She closes her book after placing a bookmark in between pages. “Nobody is trying to harm me Haeun.”

Your older sister never seemed to particularly like you, and you’ve never been able to find out why. Out of your three siblings, all older than you, she’s the only one who seems to hold a grudge against you. By now it’s almost an everyday occurrence, wondering why she was the only one that had to stay home besides yourself, while the others moved out when they finished high school.

“Because you’ve been protected by a stuck-up entitled brat your whole life.” She glares at you and pushes her chair back to stand up, clearly not wanting to be in the same room as you. “You’re lucky you’re mom’s child. She’s probably the only person who would go through such great lengths to make sure you’re safe.”

Being the youngest child, you’ve always sought for the validation of your older siblings. That worked two times, or more specific, it worked for the two twins in the household. Your 24 year old brother and sister adore you, always calling to make sure everything is okay back home. Haeun though, can’t seem to hold that same energy.

“You truly speak like a fully-fledged demon.” You do not wish to fight with her, still, you also can’t just let her get away with her words. Perhaps this is your own way of trying to show her that she hurt you.

“I’d like to remind you that your own mother and like half of your family tree is full-demon.” She seems to think your distress is amusing, happily replying to your insults. “You’re the only one whose personality matches one as well.”

Somewhere you were hoping she’d comfort you, apologizing for her words. “If I’m so bad then why is nobody hunting me down? Why am I not the one being protected?” You can’t do anything but look at the ground and stand there, not knowing what to say.

Haeun, noticing your lack of answer, walks up to you so she can deliver her following words right in your face. “You know, criminals aren’t supposed to be protected.” Walking past you, she gets to the exit of the room.

“I didn’t do anything.” Once again you’re trying to hold back tears. Why do you have to be such a cry baby? “Keep telling yourself that. Hopefully it’ll come true one day.” Is it her mission to make you feel as miserable as she possibly can?

“Is it so wrong to just want to feel safe?” You whisper, but her sensitive ears still hear you. “In your case, of course it is.” With that she walks out, letting the door fall closed behind her. With her she takes the little confidence you managed to build up for yourself.

The loud thud of something – or rather a bunch of things – falling wakes Jungkook up. Complete silence follows the sound, almost as if it was never even there. The still tired boy groans, rolls over, and gets ready to fall back asleep. It’s Saturday, waking up at any time before 1 pm is way too early according to him.

Just for a second Jungkook debates whether he should go check if everything is okay, but quickly dismisses the thought. Nobody is screaming out it pain, so it should be fine. Except if said person fucked up so bad that whatever fell instantly killed them.

Jungkook sighs and accepts the fact that he might be a teensy bit worried. He yawns, not caring to block his mouth, and sits up in bed. There’s not much his eyes have to adjust to, as the room is still completely dark thanks to his blackout curtains hanging in front of the windows. The curtains were hell for his basically empty bank account back when he bought them, but damn do they do a good job at keeping the light out.

He can’t tell what time it is, but his droopy eyes tell him it’s definitely nowhere near noon yet. Getting out of bed, Jungkook puts some socks on his bare feet. It’s no secret that their laminate flooring is almost always freezing in the mornings. There was even a time when Namjoon was sure some evil spell had been casted on their floor, doing his best to get rid of it. Needless to say, that didn’t go very well. Turns out no evil spell was on the floor, their bitchy apartment just loses heat really fast.

When Jungkook walks out of his room he calls out for the only other person living there. “Namjoon?” He squints at the light coming through the living room windows. Both Namjoon and Jungkook have their own room, so there was no need to get any curtains for the living room. It would just have been a waste of money, although Jungkook is thinking of buying some for his poor eyes.

Nobody answers his call. Did these things just fall on their own then? Jungkook is quite sure he doesn’t live with a pair of ghosts, so he shuffles a bit further into the room and calls out again. “Is everything okay? Where are you?” He raises the volume of his voice a bit, hoping that it will help.

He can’t help but lightly cringe at the way he sounds, having forgotten he only woke up a few minutes ago and his voice is still laced with sleep. “I’m here Jungkook.” This time Namjoon responds to the call from the kitchen.

Jungkook walks over to the kitchen to check on the current situation. “What happened? I heard something falling and-“ Abruptly stopping his speech, Jungkook’s eyes widen as soon as he reaches the doorway.

The kitchen floor is an absolute mess. Food laying everywhere on top of what seems to be a dozen of broken eggs, with Namjoon’s form desperately trying to clean at the side. “Wha- How did you…” It takes him a moment before he can manage to form a proper sentence, not sure if what he’s seeing is real.

“Why is there food all over the floor?!” Jungkook nearly screams in shock. Luckily none of his snacks ended up on the floor, having no need to be refrigerated. They are still safely tucked away somewhere in one of the cupboards.

“I wanted to take something out of the fridge without moving the rest in front of it, but as you see, it kind of failed..” Namjoon looks guilty. Not only did he throw hard earned money on the floor, he also woke his roommate up in the process. Two things he likes to avoid.

Jungkook internally face palms, but doesn’t show it on his face. “This is what you get for being lazy.” Although he probably shouldn’t be saying that, as he is usually the lazy one. Jungkook bends down to get a towel from one of the lower cupboards. Initially he was going straight back to sleep after seeing what happened, but he’d feel bad if he just left Namjoon alone here.

“No worries, I’ll help you.” He smiles at his friend, trying to somehow comfort him. “Thank you.” Namjoon scratches the back of his head out of embarrassment, before audible sighing. “I’ll go get the mop.” He lets Jungkook know before walking out. This was not how Jungkook imagined he would be spending his Saturday morning, but at least nobody got hurt.

“Eleanor.” She didn’t need to turn around to know who was standing behind her. Having heard his voice for years now, the sound is most familiar to her. Comforting, soft, caring.

“It’s getting cold, so I brought you a jacket.” Elenora smiles and takes the jacket her husband offers her. “Thank you.”

The temperature dropping hadn’t been on her mind, too deep in her own thoughts. She’s thankful for the garment, instantly feeling a lot warmer.

“What do you think of the flowers?” Elenora asks Minho right after he sits down next to her. “I planted them before my sister brought the kids over, since Juwon likes them.” A small smile is plastered on her face at the thought of her excited nephew.

“They’re pretty, I like them.” He feels her eyes on him and looks down to meet her gaze. Having been caught, Elenora quickly turns her head in the opposite direction. They have been married for quite a few years, but sometimes she still acts like a high school student having a crush.

“I’m glad.”

Silence follows. Minho wasn’t planning on staying outside with her, but now that he’s here he might as well enjoy the fresh air. Besides, something feels off, a pull keeping him next to her.

“Am I a bad person?” The silence get cut by an unexpected question. “Eleanor-” “I’m making sure that someone who shouldn’t have power, keeps her crown. At this point I’m just spreading propaganda.”

She sighs and rests her head in her hands, covering her face. “I’m trying to keep someone safe by helping those with ill intentions. Does that make me a bad person?” She isn’t necessarily looking for an answer, she knows there is none.

“I agreed to it. If that makes you a bad person then I’m one too.” Scooting closer, Minho takes her hands from her face, squeezing lightly. “Angels can’t be bad, that’s exactly what they’re known for, what gives them their name.” She lets out a sad sounding chuckle. Despite everything, she can find a little enjoyment in the statement.

“There’s a first for everything.” He smiles at her, stroking the back of her hands. “No one is ever 100% good, but I’d like to think you are.” They say love makes you blind, and maybe she is, but she doesn’t really care.

“Then you are too.” No hesitation in his voice. She isn’t sure what makes him say that, but she’ll believe his words for now.

“We’ll figure out a way to satisfy everyone eventually. It just takes time of course. I trust the story won’t end badly.” He isn’t sure how to comfort her or how to give her an answer. All he can do now is support her. “I do hope so.” She lays her head on his shoulder, hoping that perhaps all her problems will disappear if she just forgets about them.

Jungkook usually loves the fact that the stores in town are open until late. He can’t even count the amount of times he went out at night to restock the snack he ate during the day, thanking the Lord for the gift of convenience stores.

Right now though, he hates it. Had the stores been closed by now, Namjoon wouldn’t have pushed him out the door to do the weekly grocery shopping, and Jungkook could have still been playing the new game he bought a week ago to which he ended up getting addicted to.

Well he wasn’t really forced out of the door, more like Namjoon convinced him to go. Damn him for having an important appointment with his project partner. Who wants to do school work during the weekend anyway?

“I should have everything now.” He murmurs while peering into the plastic bag dangling from his arm, looking back and forth between its contents and the shopping list to make sure he didn’t forget anything.

Jungkook probably bought more ramen than needed, but as long as he didn’t forget anything it should be fine. Even though it’s Jungkook who does most of the cooking in the house, Namjoon isn’t scared to scold him whenever he forgets something. Ridiculous, It isn’t even his fault the fridge ended up empty.

Realizing he still needs one of the vegetables, he turns around, walking back to the store he just came from with sighs and curses leaving his mouth. All he wants to do is go home and just get this done. There is nothing likable about eggplants anyway, when will he ever use them to cook?

Luckily for him, he won’t need to go back after all. Though, giving your life for not having to get an eggplant may seem a bit much. Not that he really has a choice in the unfair trade anyway.

Jungkook’s steps are fast, arriving at the grocery store as soon as possible is the only thing on his mind. It’s not until the clock strikes 9 pm exactly that he is forced to stop, an incredible heat closing in on his spot.

Someone somewhere screams. People everywhere start running in opposite directions, blindly clashing into each other. A few trip and fall, crawling to safety between the legs blocking their path. Others faint, their heads not being able to make sense of what’s happening.

Nobody minds them, forcefully stepping on the bodies of those on the ground. With the way people are moving it won’t be long before the entire street is empty. It’s complete chaos.

Jungkook, still standing where he stopped, looks up at the sky, searching for the cause of all this madness. He regrets it instantly, having probably been off better without knowing what was about to end him. Nothing could have ever prepared him for the sight.

About to set fire to everyone and everything, a massive blue fireball is raging his way. The bag he was holding falls to the ground, his eyes widening. It’s not hard to guess who the sender is. Luna is still after him.

It’s like time suddenly slows down substantially. The fireball is still so far away, yet also way too close. A memory of Namjoon chanting an extinguishing spell flashes through Jungkook’s mind, but is all too soon forgotten. Maybe if he had actually paid attention at that time he would be able to save himself now.

Frozen with fear, his feet refuse to move. He can’t do anything. Shivering all over, Jungkook crosses his arms in front of him as a way to shield himself. Maybe if he can’t see anything, it will cease to exist. And thus he closes his eyes as tightly as he can, waiting for the burning hot impact. He had long accepted his fate. It’s over for him.

[monochromeofficial]

DISSILLUSION  (  broken rose part one )

GENRE.    angst with a bit of fluff at the end, overal this is pretty sad

CHARACTHERS.    miran ( miranda huang ), huang family

TRIGGER WARNINGS.    slight depressive thoughts, mentions of drinking, mentions of smoking, arguing and yelling.

SHANGHAI, CHINA                                              2014

When Miranda woke up, she was more surprised to see her brother standing in front of her than having spent the night on a bench in some random public park.

She furrowed her face once a light of sunlight came in contact with her eyes, blinding her for a few seconds. Slowly she sat, moving her head a little to look up at him. Lisandro had both arms folded over his chest, observing her clumsy movements with a stare that she knew to perfection. Full of disappointment. That kind of looks tend to not affect her when they came from other people, but he made her feel uneasy.

When he stared at her that way Miranda wished she had a time machine to go back in time and fix every mistake that ended with that look on his face.

“Get in the car.” He said in his typical calming voice.

If she didn’t know him so well she could swear he wasn’t that angry, but his clenched jaw and the way he stirred the fingers of his left hand gave him away. 

Lisandro was like that. As angry as he was he would never raise his voice. At least not to her. Miranda was his beloved little sister. It didn’t matter how little was left of that image in her; she would always be his beloved sister.

She got up from the bench and followed him. Once inside the car she greeted Mr. Minghao —the family driver— with a slight handwave, before the men could return the gesture Lisandro pressed the bottom to close the window that divided the back of the car, leaving both siblings in an uncomfortable silence. The car started moving minutes later and Lisandro begun the conversation.

“Explain to me how you ended in a park almost at the other side of the city” He spoke in spanish, surely to prevent Minghao from understanding,

Truth is, Miranda didn’t know how she ended in that place. She didn’t remember much about last night actually, as far as she could recall she was at a club she went to more often than she likes to admit in front of him. 

She hated clubs, but it was the only place where she could drink until losing track of time, with music so loud she couldn’t even hear her thoughts, and full of people who didn’t care who she was or what she did. It was so easy to get lost there. And she likes that, she likes it so much she believes that place has become her safe zone.

But it was momentary.

Everything good in her life was momentary.

The next day all she was left with was a hangover and an intense desire of coming back.

“I don’t know.”

“I left a meeting because my assistant told me a co-worker called and told him he saw an unconscious girl who looked a lot like my sister. I was so scared of going there and finding you de—“, he stopped right away not wanting to finish the word “I don’t even want to think about it”

There was again the blame eating her alive. She bites her lip looking everywhere except her brother’s eyes. She couldn’t answer.

Miranda will be lying if she didn’t say deep down she craved that ending. Maybe that’s one of the main reasons why she acted so recklessly without caring about the damage she inflicted in herself, hoping that if she keeps going one day everything will be over.

“I’m sorry, it won’t happen again”. She replied more than anything to reassure him.

Lisandro took her hand between his and gave her a small squeeze. Her response didn’t fully comfort him, he was still deeply concerned. But that’s how things work between them. Miranda fucks up. Lisandro gives her a talk. She apologizes, he accepts the apology. And they leave it there, until it happened again.

Miranda Huang was lost.

For years she’s been struggling with a series of mental illnesses that made her life feel like a task she had to carry out. It used to be easy to deal with, she had the full support of her family, therapists ready to help her get over it, and a life ahead to heal at her pace. But as she grew older she realized most of her improvements didn’t last long, no matter how hard she tried by the end of the day she ended up in her room crying until she fell asleep.

Slowly her desire to continue trying vanished. What was the point of wasting her energies on something that didn’t work after all? 

She was aware of how privileged she was, that’s why she didn’t want other people to know the real thoughts going through her mind, she was scared of being seen as an ungrateful brat who’s always miserable. Miranda was a skilled actress; she attended drama classes for years, that’s why she decided to start using several techniques offstage to project a more likable image of herself that could please others.

Miranda got so used to faking her emotions that she almost couldn’t remember the last time she felt something real that wasn’t sadness. 

“We should leave,” she said, approaching Xiaowen´s hear so he could hear her above the loud music.

Xiaowen was something like her boyfriend could be said. Both attended the same high school and during their senior year, the boy confessed his feeling for her. Miranda accepted despite feeling nothing for him, but she hated being alone and he could give her company. Anyhow, Xiaowen seemed to be me more in love with her money and her face than her actual persona.

“Eh? You wanna leave so fast? We just got here.” The boy asked surprised. He was usually the one who had to drag her out of the club all the time.

She nodded.

The colorful lights of the place made her dizziness worse and she was sure that if she drank one more shot of vodka she’d end up throwing up in the boy’s brown curls. At that point, she would usually go out to get some fresh air, smoke a cigarette, and then continue to drink until passing out. Now she didn’t feel like it, she wanted to go home.

“Fine, i’ll take you after we finish this bottle”

Miranda sighed heavily, rolling her eyes. Of course, he would say something like that.

“Do whatever the fuck you want i’ll go”

Without waiting for his response she advanced to leave the place.

Outside she was received by the cold night wind of Shanghai’s busy streets. She closed her leopard coat trying to get some warm as she lifted her left hand to call a taxi. After getting one she let her body relax against the leather seats laying down her head in the window. Her eyes closed straightaway.

She was exhausted, both mentally and physically.

Nights like those were the worst when her ephemeral fantasy disappeared before than expected and she was still sober enough to feel her pains. They felt like thin paper cuts in her skin, individually they didn’t hurt so much but combined it was distressing.

The worst part of all; she couldn’t complain. It was her punishment. As long as she carries the guilt of that day pain will be present in every breath she takes.

The taxi driver’s voice announcing she arrived snapped her from her thoughts. She paid and thanked the man before walking to the entrance of her house.

“I’m home”, she announced once she was inside.

She took her off her shoes unaltered by not receiving a reply. At that time all employees had gone home and her parent and brother must be asleep. She headed to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, pausing for a second after seeing Lisandro there too. He drummed his fingers on his cup staring at her intensely. Her shoulder lowered, all of sudden she felt small and weak, while she opened the fridge she wondered how long it will take him to start interrogating her.

“You went to the club again, right?” 

Miranda nodded dodging his gaze, her grasp in the water bottle becoming tighter.

He rubbed his temple and ran his hand through his hair giving a mirthless laugh.

“Why i’m not surprised.”

“Look, i know i said i won’t go there again but—”

“Save it. I’m done with your petty apologies; i’m done protecting you when it seems like you put zero effort on improving… i can’t keep doing whatever the fuck this is. I need to tell mom and dad everything.”

She stiffened. “You can’t do that, please don’t do that.”

“Yes i can, and i will. This needs to stop now.”

She opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by her father’s entrance into the kitchen.

“What’s going on here? I heard you two arguing, did something happened or what?” He furrowed his eyebrows looking at them. They both stood quiet. Then he noticed the flashy clothes she was wearing, “Miranda are you going out? It’s three in the morning.” 

“Where is she coming from it’s the question” Lisandro replied bitterly.

“Just stop.” she said under her breath.

“I don’t understand anything, weren’t you in your room sleeping? Can someone explain to me what it’s going on…?”

“He’s right. Miranda, please explain to dad what where you’re doing.”

They both stared at her anticipating her answer. Miranda remained silent; she chewed her bottom lip and lowered her head embarrassed. Words seemed to be stuck in her throat.

“Since she doesn’t want to i will.” Lisandro said “She was at some club drinking like she’s been doing for a while now, while i hide it from you like an idiot because i believed she would get better before anything bad happened to her. And now I found out she hasn’t even been attending her therapy sessions.”

Her eyes widened. Suddenly her body went numb.

Fuck

“They called from the clinic to ask for her because they haven’t seen her in months.”

“Miranda is that true?” Her father’s voice sounded worried.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck…

Every second was a torture. Her brain begged her to say something, anything, but at the same time, she didn’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry.”

The apology leaved her mouth by instinct.

“At least you can come up with a new damn excuse!”

He yelled.

Lisandro yelled at her, and it felt worse than she could ever imagine. 

Lisandro was like a barrier preventing her from falling to the void, it was obvious that if she continued to push his boundaries over and over one day he would get tired and nothing would secure her when she crashed.

“It’s enough!” Her dad tried to stop the mess that was coming, but it was too late already.

“Sorry for being a fuck up” she wasn’t sure if they could hear it, her voice was barely a flimsy whisper, but she didn’t stay to find out neither. Miranda turned around and left right after that.

She heard how both men started discussing, surely about what just happened, as she climbed the stairs in a hurry. She just wanted to lock herself in her room hoping that if she spent enough time there she would disappear.

When she arrived she found her mother sitting on her bed. She looked up from her lap with a sweet smile on the lips. As long as she remembers she always had a smile when she looked at her.

“Did you heard everything?” Miranda asks and she nods.

“It’s okay, come here.”

She pats the space next to her, telling her to sit down. She does so, laying her head on her mother's lap as the woman begins to run her hands through her hair gently. She closes her eyes trying to hold back her tears. She didn't wanted to cry in front of her.

“We don’t need to talk if you don’t want to. We can just stay in silence and cry.”

She shakes her head a little. “You deserve an explanation, you, dad, and Lisandro, all of you deserve one.”

“Mi vida you don’t have to explain anything to us, we know it’s not your fault.”

“Of course it is. It's my fault, everything it’s my fault… He hates me and it’s all my fault. I’m a horrible person.” 

"Listen to me, you're not a bad person and i forbid you to say that about yourself again. You’re just…sick Miranda, and you have no control over that. But you'll see that someday you’re going to get better and everything will be alright, you'll be fine mi vida. We can do this if we're together we just have to try harder until it works. but i'm not going to give up on you, and i'm sure they won't either, so please don't do it yet.”

Miranda lifted her head from her lap to face her. Her eyes flooded with tears, yet she didn’t shatter none, there was something in them that showed an incredible strength and it gave her some confidence. 

“I won’t. I won’t disappoint you again.”

This time it was true. She wanted to get better, she had to get better, not just for her but for her loved ones.

“I’m sure you won’t.” She said engulfing her in a hug.

Miranda settled on her chest and before she knew she began to cry. Allowing herself to show what she truly felt for the first time in years.

[pbandjesse]

Today was a rainy, but pretty good, day. I slept a little better last night. Even if falling asleep hasnt been going well. I woke up in a good mood. James had put air in the tires and gas in the car. I gave him lots of hugs and headed out. 

There are to many cars on the road. But it was fine. I had a good ride in. And honestly it was just a nice morning. 

Some parts were quiet. It was rainy. I spent a lot of time today just enjoying my own company. When I first got there we were all sitting on the porch. I told them all about my powerpoint project and they thought I was very silly but excited that I was excited. 

I had some free time and some energy this morning though. So I went and changed into my rain boots, which have finally broken and absolutely need to be replaced now, and went down to homestead. Heather had asked the specialty teachers to work on cleaning that since we had some time in the afternoon. But I had time then so off I went. 

I listened to my podcast and I cleaned for about an hour and a half. It was kind of rainy and damp all day but it was hella gross down there. Everything was covered in mud. There was so much stuff just around. It was terrible. I started with picking up stuff off the ground. I didnt get the stuff under the picnic tables because honestly, it was to hard to bend that much. But I also had some of the campers help me collect all the containers and tubs down there so I could hose them off. Everything was going to go into storage and they couldnt go in covered in mud. But then everything was wet from the hose and I was very hot. Break time. 

I went and sat at arts and crafts for a few minutes. Caught my breath. Enjoyed the hammock. Enjoyed the rain sounds. And then went down to the office to check in with Heather. She was super surprised that I had been cleaning down there alone. Acted all proud of me. And my stupid money brain was like "Praise???" so of course I went back later in the day and kept cleaning and wiping things off and putting things in totes. Cj is going to come back on thursday and help sort but in the mean time at least they would be able to get everything away from the muddy area. 

Heather told me that after lunch I should go help with sandwiches. But I had time. So I went and finished setting up in art. Laid around. Had my lunch a little early. 

And went to figure out making sandwiches. But that went all wrong because apparently there was a change of plans, but no one told me. I made like 20 sandwiches when Elizabeth came in and was like. The fridge broke and we arent allowed to use this food anymore. Even though it was in a cooler that was still cold. Which seems silly to me but food rules are important. I just feel bad that I wasted the bread. And another change of plans was that I was supposed to be running trading post again. But I had asked! A few times! And was told no, youre doing sandwiches. So I was all confused. And a little unsettled. Im still unsettled honestly. I hate doing things wrong. I hate being wasteful. Doesnt feel good. 

But I headed up to trading post and it went just fine. It was healthy day and no one told me that so I had to get that stuff but everyone was quick to help me set it up. 

It took a little longer today, I dont know why but we were having trouble getting the kids up and in line. But it was done and I went to art to wait for my group. 

This group was tough. I knew that. Because they were the little ones and there were 13 of them. But it went well all things considered. We ran a little over time. And James, their counselor, was obviously stressed. But the kids were so excited that they made their little quilt square. But because of us running late I didnt get a picture. Ah well. It was still a lot of fun. 

Half their kids wanted to use the bathroom and then there was an early pick up and then their program space changed and it was a whole ordeal. I was barefoot but I told James I would take half his group to their next program. So I threw on some shoes and walked them down to the office. Where James met us and took over. 

I headed back to art and cleaned everything up. Took a small break. Okay a little bit longer. Wrapped in my blanket in my hammock. It was great. 

Im a little sad thinking about it only because Maryland is moving into phase three and I dont know what my job situation is going to look like going forward. Its hard. Im scared all the time, but being out at camp at least feels safe. I dont think I will feel safe in another job yet. And like none of my museums are going to open for field trips. And so its like. Fall at camp was already tentative. It was already like. Unsure. But Alexi is hoping it will at least be some time every week. And Im trying to stay positive but its hard and Im scared about what the fall will bring with covid and with the cold. I am going to try to get into my art more. Try to actually sell things? Well see what happens I guess. 

The rest of the afternoon was cleaning down at Homestead and then hanging out with the kids at the office until 5 when I headed out. 

I drove to Hunt Valley and went to the Marshals I discovered there. I didnt realize that the shopping center had a back side.  And I had excellent luck. I finally found a long sleeve black shirt. To replace my lost one. And I got some gum and a pretty makeup and a night time lotion. The cashier was very sweet. But I was starving and had to go find some dinner. 

I ended up going to wawa and ate a hoagie in my car. Just living my best life. I had a long and strange drive home. I got a light on my car that I had never seen before. But I looked it up and it seems like its not a big deal. It only flashed at me two different times and didnt stay on so its probably okay but Ill keep an eye on it. 

I got back here and was annoyed to find a cop in the alley. But Mr Will was also outside and it was nice to see him. He got one of those two screen phones, very fancy. He showed me how to look for jobs on facebook market place. Which I didnt need him to do but I enjoy him and his dad energy so I let him show me. He's great. I was also glad to see he was actually wearing a mask. I worry about him!!

I got in here and it was basically 7. I put stuff away and did the dishes. I got a piece of the cookies and cream cheese cake James made and played animal crossing. I cant believe its september but that brings changes to the island! New bugs and fish! I caught a soft shelled turtle! I played until 8 and then took a lovely long bath. 

And now I am just hanging out. I am tired and hoping I fall asleep easier tonight. I hope you all have a great night and a wonderful tomorrow!

[neshabeingchildish]

Poly Wanna?

A/N: So, I had some different ideas rushing through my head of who and how I wanted these characters to be. They may start in a place that you would not expect or can’t imagine, but just keep in mind that I try to write things a little differently each incarnation of a fic and hopefully nobody checks out within the first few paragraphs. Gimme a chance. It’s delicate content, and I promise I’m trying to do their relationship justice, not just write some trash that throws them all together. I will say that this may be the most adult content of all the content that I bring into this fandom, but STILL no sm*t, okay? Will definitely mention some things that take and have taken place. Enjoy, and let me know how you feel, unless you hate it. Then, Chile stop reading and go. I don’t wanna waste neither of our time with that situation.

And just to tag the folk who initially expressed interest the first time, and lemme tell y’all… This tagging was a little difficult for me, so I shalln’t be doing it again, I don’t believe. You ain’t gotta read it, either. I just wanted to extend the invite for anybody who might have been interested: @adorkable-blackgirl  @chenoahchantel @cactus-con @up-the-tube @riebellion  @itsyaapollochild @oof–musicals @lesbian-so-what @woahjusttakeiteasy-man @meadowstryingtobepretty @imma-sensitive-btch @okaygal21 @midernacht @divinereign4ever @xoxoemille @starry-nightschool

Plot: Pansexual Playboy Henry Hart finally decides to settle down, with his two best friends, Jasper & Charlotte. Each have a history with him and a present with each other, and he simply can’t let either of them go… Not this time around.

01. Reality Bites

Charlotte had just moved the last of her things into Jasper’s apartment and was not even the least bit interested in trying to unpack, yet. She had packed two all encompassing luggage bags with all of her necessities to live out of for a moment, just in case it didn’t work out wonderfully and she had to abort this mission. In the meantime, the beginning of their little life together was at least cute. Jasper had cozy surroundings. His parents didn’t like for him to have things growing up, so he was one of those people who was satisfied with less. But… Charlotte was used to high quality and high maintenance, so she would definitely be turning this place around, if they lasted.

She was having some trouble getting on her feet. It wasn’t that she wasn’t qualified to do things. She definitely was. She went to school. She got degrees. She applied for jobs. She worked them. The thing was that she had this bad habit of putting in less effort than the company wanted. A lot of productivity rules were just busy work and programming. She only wanted to do what was necessary to get her work done. Bosses hated her for that. She was constantly getting fired and had gotten to the point where her parents were sick of it and forced her to get out of their place. “You could always go back to the Man Cave,” Jasper had suggested. Yeah, right. Where Henry was? 

He was part of the problem. She had put so much into him, into them and he simply moved on as soon as it got a little bit difficult, as was his romance method of operation. After that, she wondered why even try to hard when you could simply to whatever you had to and get good results. To be fair and honest, had she thought more about it, she might have realized that what she was actually experiencing was heartbreak and depression. But, she thought that she was just tired of people taking advantage of her.

Jasper, on the other hand had been doing fine. He wasn’t doing great, but he was at least working regularly and was able to afford to take care of himself. Then again, he didn’t eat healthy, keep groceries stocked, or have the best products in the place. In fact, at the moment, he had wine on the kitchen counter, half a bag of tortilla chips in the pantry, and one shelf of condiments on the door of the fridge, with beer on the top rack. So… He didn’t have himself together, but he did have working water, electricity, a vehicle, a home… stuff that she was lacking on because she couldn’t be happy in any career path she had tried, thus far.

But, they found each other again, after some time apart and some distance. Their friendship faltered slightly when he admitted to her some years ago (some months after she and Henry were over) that he and Henry were together. WTF? She didn’t know what part of bro-code,girl code… (friendship? code) was being violated by that relationship, but she felt in her bones that it was betrayal and so, she was good on him. She was good on him a couple of years later when he apologized and told her that karma had caught up to him, because Henry had broken things off. She was good on him up until she came into this bar to meet up with a friend for a promotion celebration and he was serving drinks and let her drink for free. 

It became her thing. She certainly wasn’t able to buy her own drinks, not regularly, anyway, and she’d forgotten how good of a listener Jasper was. She could complain about her problems and drink them away, and she had a good listener available who wasn’t going to take advantage of her if she got too drunk. After a while, it started being hanging out socially, then talking on the phone, texting, social media and finally, she began spending nights. 

They didn’t put any label on things. Labels made Charlotte nervous and Jasper was simply in a headspace where he just wanted to try to enjoy life, with or without someone in it, but it was wonderful to have somebody in it that he had known for so long. It was also good to know her in this new way.

By the time that she was moving in and looking for another job, they had been seeing each other for five months. That was also around the time that Henry called about his opportunity to be on a reality tv show. He called Jasper, not Charlotte, but upon learning that they were together, invited her along, as well. The last thing that she wanted to do was see Henry, but she also didn’t trust him around her Jasper, so she went along just to feel him out. 

Whenever they got to the place, Junk N Stuff was gone, as were several of the neighbors to it and now there was this brownstone and Charlotte was confused, but Jasper went right inside, like he’d been here before. There was a doorman there that looked familiar to Charlotte, but she didn’t know why. “Hey, Gooch. What’s up?”

“Gooch?” She repeated and took a look at the guy. He did look like the Gooch she remembered, but he was much younger. “Wait, did Schwoz find some kind of way to reverse aging or something?”

Jasper laughed and said, “It’s Gooba’s son. Finding out about him was one of the reasons he left. Anyway, we can talk about that later.” Gooch’s son was staring at Charlotte. He looked a little bit younger than them, but not so much that he wouldn’t have been a full kid whenever they initially worked with Gooch. Anyway, she smiled politely and kept following Jasper. 

“How long has this been here?” She wondered.

“Couple years.”

“It’s conspicuous. What does Henry even do that people would reasonably believe that he could have this built and live here?” She wondered.

“You… really have chosen to fully avoid him, huh?” Jasper asked.

“He’s the worst. I don’t need that kind of energy. Mine already sucks.” Whenever they entered the place that she guessed was Henry’s she quickly had that confirmed by the huge, wall sized painting of himself, nude, but covered gingerly with flowers, in a flower crown with flowers what, falling from the sky? She sighed at the painting, rolled her eyes and they followed his voice. 

“Well, I don’t have the time for that type of contract, Levi! I’m about to be in talks for my new show…” He noticed them and smiled, waving them inside, “And I have guests arriving now. No, not clients. I told you, I don’t have appointments today. Look, just fix it. I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up and turned around, “Char!” He said, excitedly and rushed to hug her and pick her up from the ground. “You look gorgeous. I see your teeth are still perfect and you’ve let your hair and skin join the perfection club, as well.”

“They always were, but thanks for noticing.” She blushed and looked at the ground as Henry went to hug Jasper, too. 

“And you! Buddy… You gonna cut the beers, or nah?”

“Char’s fine with the beer belly.”

“It’s not a beer belly,” she cut in. “He’s always been a little bit gooey.”

“He wasn’t with me,” Henry said and gave Jasper a smile that said that he was thinking of those days, or nights, or… whatever. 

Charlotte stepped in between them and reminded him, “Well, he isn’t with you.”

“Right! The two of you, now. So… That’s interesting. Unless both of you have changed drastically, I never would have pegged you two to be sexually compatible.”

“What, are you a professional sexual compatibility… person?” Charlotte asked.

Henry smiled and corrected her, “Liscensed sex therapist, with special focus on sex positive therapy.” She sighed. Of COURSE, he’d get a degree on sex. “Don’t look like that. My work is very important! I help save marriages. I help people not hate themselves for being normal. What kind of fancy schmancy science is keeping Charlotte Page’s attention these days.”

“The kind where I bring drinks to tables until I get back into another lab.”

“Her bad attitude gets her fired a lot,” Jasper said.

“Not my bad attitude. Corporations’ insistence on overworking people who know better than to allow themselves to be used,” she corrected.

“Having a money issue?” Henry wondered.

“I haven’t found the right lab yet, that is it,” she insisted.

“Okay. Well, if, while you’re looking, you don’t mind having a camera or two pointed in your face, I want to invite you two to be a part of the cast for my new reality show adventure.”

“How the heck are you gonna have a reality show whenever half of your life is a secret?” Charlotte wondered. “Wait… Are you no longer Swellview’s hero? Because, I will definitely work in the Man Cave if you’re not gonna be there.”

“I am the new hero man of Swellview. Captain Man is still working, because he is indestructible and not super old yet. But, yes, we are partners.”

“Are you Man Danger?” Charlotte asked.

“He’s Dr. FeelGood,” Jasper said. 

“MISTER FeelGood. Dr. Feel Good is copywritten.”

“Both are corny,” Charlotte said.

“You’re a waitress who has like seven degrees,” Henry said.

“Ouch,” she replied. 

“To answer the question you asked before the cascade of shade that you threw me, I’m gonna do the show with production that knows that I’m Mister FeelGood, so they will never record or release anything that has me working in that way, because they work for me.” Charlotte raised her hand. “Yes?”

“So… Was Man Danger unavailable in the superhero names database, Danger just too vague? Captain Danger too much like Captain Man? Like… what possessed you to go to Mister FeelGood?” 

Henry smiled and rolled his eyes then pointed to Jasper, “You in?”

“In? Like… What is the show even about? Just following you around and recording all of your life when you aren’t fighting crime?”

“It… Is about me coming out of the shadow of all of my Swellview celebrity friends and trying to become a Swellview celebrity, in my own rite.”

“Swellview has celebrities?” Charlotte wondered.

“Whenever I go places, people still say things to me like, “Hey - you used to be friends with that science girl, Charlotte. Whatever happened to her? Or, hey - do you ever still talk to Jasper Dunlop? It was so cool that he was a real hero, much like Kid Danger. I thought WAS Kid Danger, at some point! Or, what’s happened to the guy who used to own that junk shop? He doesn’t get voted for as the most handsome man in Swellview anymore. Did he die?” Charlotte and Jasper were both laughing and leaning on each other. Henry said, “I have my own private practice. I help people in my daily life and I’m a superhero. I would like to be seen as something other than the guy who’s dated TWO girls from Kids in the Woods.”

“OH MY GOD!” Charlotte said and cackled.

“I totally forgot about that! And I just had spa day with them last month!” Jasper said.

“With Bianca and Chloe?” Henry wondered.

“Yep. They started taking me with them after you and I broke up. There’s a Henry Hartbreak Plan, so you’re definitely not riding on just our forgotten celebrity alone.”

“A Henry Hartbreak Plan?” Charlotte repeated.

“It’s a boost of vitamins and painkillers, a punching bag workout set to music, a shower. massage, detox, and a long snuggly nap. The spa owner has some history with Hen, too.”

Henry sighed and pointed at finger at Jasper, “That was mostly in her head!”

“That spa day sounds valuable. You didn’t tell me about all that. You just said Girls Day with the Hartbroken Club.”

“Come next time,” Jasper said. 

Henry watched the two of them talking. They were both still extremely attractive and each had that lovers’ glow with each other. It made him miss them, both. He missed their friendships and he missed being with them. Of course, those were two separate relationships, but he missed those relationships. He had never had anyone like either of them before. He thought that he would never get over Jasper and still wasn’t, but the surprise of seeing Char again, and her being even more perfect than he’d remembered… He was unsure of how he had ever gotten over her. Looking at them both right now, he realized that he hadn’t. He just thought that he had. “It’s only a thousand dollars per episode for this first season, if it even goes beyond that, but…”

“I’m in,” Charlotte said.

“I could use an extra couple of thousand, as well,” Jasper said.

“Cool… Why don’t you let Bianca and Chloe know. Of course, everyone will have to speak with my production team on camera to see what they think, but… I believe that they’d like to have all of the components of my celebrity associations for this thing.”

“So, does that mean that Piper is involved?” Charlotte wondered.

“We can’t really pay Piper to be involved, but she did tell me that if the show makes waves, then we’ll talk…” He was barely done with his comment and Charlotte was laughing at him. “She told me that you two still talk, though. She didn’t give me your number.”

“I girl coded her not to years ago, when I changed it,” Charlotte said. 

“My assistant Levi will need it, to let you know about appointments and stuff.”

“It’s cut off. Just call Jasper. We live together,” she said with a shrug.

“You live together? It’s… that serious?” he wondered, a little bit heartbroken, though he wasn’t sure from which one, but leaning towards both.

“I mean… It’s going great,” Jasper said and wrapped an arm around Charlotte.

Henry nodded, and blinked away the sadness that he felt might show in his eyes. “Well, congrats on that. You two deserve to be happy, more than anybody else that I know.” He reached forward to pull both of them into a hug. Jasper returned it, but Charlotte froze up, and he noticed that she’d done so earlier too. He pulled back and looked at the two of them. They clung to each other as they both fought to tear their eyes away from Henry’s face, so neither of them had seen their reactions to him, but he had seen both. “Later,” they said. Henry smiled and saw them out. So, they were in for the show at least. He hoped that the cameras wouldn’t catch too much of all of that emotion that was floating through the room.

[tkjunkdrawer]

Tumblr mobile on my tablet is being FUCKING STUPID about reblogs rn so here's a screencap

Dude had a rough night. The majority of his injuries came from him fleeing through the woods in a total panic, rather than because he got gored by something. The broken arm was because he fell down a steep slope and landed badly. Demons can generally see in the dark pretty well, but he just wasn't paying attention to what was in front of him because he was too busy looking back to make sure nothing was on him.

His friend was definitely not so lucky.

Vampires need blood for the same reason they always have in pretty much any fictional universe. It's one of the few concepts I don't see much of a need to mess with. They get whatever nutrition they need from it. I don't remember if I ever mentioned it here, but something I touched upon briefly in the few comic pages I did is the idea of synthetic blood.

HemoFillYa. Midori got mad at me for that pun, lmao.

Because of the fact that there's an entire legal process involved with becoming a vampire, there's also a lot of rules about where they get their blood from. Seeing as hospitals need that shit for medical reasons, human and demon blood can be hard to come by.

Again, the Arkhen people had this shit figured out forever ago. It's basically indistiguishable from the real thing, though it doesn't coagulate or clot, nor does it react with normal blood when mixed. You know how mixing two different blood types makes them turn weirdly jelly-like? Trying to put it with the synthetic stuff is an oil-and-water scenario, only instead of one resting atop the other, they separate vertically in the container. It's super weird. Why? We just don't know. It also can't be used medically, for obvious reasons.

Anyways, you can find this shit at the supermarket, liquor stores, gas stations, in vending machines right next to the Coca Cola--it's pretty readily available. If you can find soda or bottled water there, you can definitely get a can of HemoFillYa. Wes has a pretty decent stock in the fridge at all times, when he's not so caught up in his studies that he forgets to buy any.

Another interesting thing to note? Vampires are completely immune to bloodborne diseases and pathogens. And said things also can't survive in synthetic blood, which is why it can be stored so casually next to energy drinks and bottled coffee. You can even get it served at restaurants. Y'know, for the vampire friend who isn't gonna eat here, but still wanted to come hang out with the group. So while it sounds weird and gross, it's actually perfectly sanitary.

Aside from the synthetic stuff, animal blood is much more accessible than human or demon blood, and still perfectly fine for consumption by vampires. It's just less convenient than being able to run to the corner store and grab a couple of cans of Hemo for dinner. Since it's actual blood, ans therefore a biohazard, it can't just be stuck in the fridge with the milk and orange juice. It's not impossible to get, but if you want it, you'd better call, say, the local butcher and ask him to set some aside for you to pick up that day.

Also? Vampires aren't inherently magical. Like, they can't necessarily use magic just because they're vampires. Wes can't, but that doesnt matter too much to him since he's studying to be a vet. Pure vampires [as in, the undead ones] get all kinds of nifty powers, but ones that have been transformed from human or demon don't get a whole lot. They get perfect night vision, which is cool, and perfectly straight teeth [Wes lamented the money his family wasted on braces for him when he was younger], but they're also deathly allergic to garlic now, and incredibly prone to severe sunburns.

Oh man, the garlic! I think I also came up with a fake garlic product at one point. Some vampires miss the stuff. The most popular brand is this stuff called "Wow! Not Garlic!" , complete with quotation marks as part of the actual name. While it sounds ridiculous, it's widely agreed to be the best substitute for actual garlic. It's sold in blocks similar to tofu, like just a solid cube of not-actually-garlic stuff.

I think I also mentioned once before that turned vampires are actually still totally capable of eating regular food, and may indulge occasionally, but it's mostly just eating to taste. Which is why "Wow! Not Garlic!" exists.

[namjoonchronicles]

Preloved - [BTS] Husband!Yoongi Au

[A/N] Sometimes you gotta work for a happy ending. Your happy ending.

Verily, the stars had aligned, and they say, you’re mine. 

Yoongi started his noon with a sharp intake of air, a sheet of blanket on top of him and a neck pillow he didn’t remember falling asleep with. The music was turned off and lights were dimmed. His pile of empty cans of energy drinks laying by the door is no longer there and his plastic bowls of instant noodles were also missing.

He clenches his eyes tight for 5 seconds as the consciousness seep flutters through his entire being, hugging the blanket in his arm. Peeling through his lashes, he saw his lyric pad to be scribbled with some words and heart shapes that he didn’t remember writing. Of course he didn’t remember.

It wasn’t him who wrote it.

Just underneath an unfinished rap verse, written in a slanted neat and curved handwriting was the sentence, “...my blood ignite when I see you, it’s hungry and I want more.” Heart emojis. Heart emojis. Heart emojis. Yoongi darted his eyes to the side and a smile crept up his lips like a slow burn. Now that he is fully awake, he remembered those airy kisses on his left side brain, and those subtle touches on his shoulder and neck. And like you knew he was awake, he received a message.

Her 🦋 : There’s food in the fridge and rice in the rice cooker. Just heat them up okay? Okay. Her 🦋 : I won’t be home early. So make sure you eat. Or else. 🦖

Yoongi pursed his lips and typed an immediate reply.

Him 🐠 : 💗

More coffee intake. Yoongi took a shower, made the bed that you slept in alone, did the laundry and then another message came from you. Since Jimin’s wedding is closing in, you got super busy. You were in-charge of doorgifts and Yoongi is going to be the best man. There were endless lines of boxes full of those doorgift items taking over your living room and halls right now so Yoongi has to move all of that to his studio for awhile. He bit his lips and blinked at the impossible sight thinking about how he could carry everything at once. Realising that he might break a few things if he were to be impatient, he settled for the slower pace after weighing over the pros and cons. Yoongi carried two boxes on top of each other and placed them in his studios. Three trips, and he had moved them all successfully.

Fumbling with the cord, Yoongi took out the plug to the television to replace it with the vacuums’. Turning it on, the vacuum hurled semi-silently as Yoongi ran the nozzles over to the fuzzy carpets and the rest of the living room where the boxes once resided. Small particles rattle through the nozzle then the tubes as Yoongi took his able arm to lift the sofa with one hand. The cords accidentally tangle themselves around the standing lamp and it tilted but luckily, Yoongi caught it on time.

Maybe cordless vacuum would be good to use. Now how much was that again? The last time he wanted to buy a cordless vacuum, you said to him that the old one could still be used. “Why waste money on things that still can be used?” You darted. “It's heavy. You can’t carry it around and the cord almost made you trip over...” he lay out his arguments and you chuckled, “...just kick the cords away. There’s absolutely no need for us to purchase things now... we might need that money for something else.” Yoongi gave you acid eyes but you don’t really give it attention.

And now with that same acid eyes, Yoongi is muttering to himself while vacuuming, “...What are we saving money for.” Then he lifts the vacuum to have the dirt compartment emptied and cleaned. At the same time, the washing machine beeped that its currently soaking and usually, you put fabric softeners during these time. So Yoongi took out the dirt compartment, left it in the sink of the bathroom, and placed the vacuum neatly by the basket of the laundry room. He attended the washing machine first. But when he looked into the non-consumables closet, the fabric softener bottle is empty. He stabbed the ‘pause’ button on the washing machine so it won’t spin before the softeners are here. Shoving the empty fabric softener bottle into the recycle bin, Yoongi placed his black face mask, his black baseball cap, and zipped his black hoodies over black jeans and shoes for a quick trip down the convenient store nearby the apartment you both lived in. His blonde-do peeking through some areas and as he carries the basket, he began picking up some bananas, and air freshener sprays.

“It’s been awhile since we did our shopping...” he silently thought as his eyes scanned through the exact fabric softener brand you used. He recognized smells so, he uncapped a few to see if you could try a new scent if you ever get bored of the current one you’re using. “Mystique smells nice too...” he thought to himself and recapped the bottle. He took the usual one and grabbed two packs of biscuit for the guests that are expected to come tonight.

“That will be ₩67,000.” The cashier brightly says. Yoongi tapped his phone for the payment, relishing the fact that he lives in a cashless modern city. It’s easy now. He remembers those days that he needed to be careful about his spendings because he doesn’t much. Now that he could safely say he’s successful, he can spend without worries. Which reminded him, did the bank transferred funds to you like they should every beginning of a month?

He carried the bag of things in one arm and wanted to call you, but his battery was running low on percentage, so he waited until he got into the house to call. He poured a capful of fabric softener into the machine and let it soaked. Then he washed the dirt compartment in the sink and then placed them back into the vacuum.

You leaned your head back against the wall, sitting on the floor with your eyes shut. “I want to lie down...” you breathed, talking to yourself. Jimin sent a row of voice note for you to listen to. The first one, he was asking about food tasting. And then he asked about Yoongi’s suit. The third and fourth voice note is about the itinerary of the wedding. He wanted to play the piano while his future wife walks in and you replied, “Then who is going to stand at the altar??? Yoongi?”

Rolling eyes emoticon. Rolling eyes emoticon. Rolling eyes emoticon.

The fifth voice notes have Jimin laughing by a street because you heard cars and honks. “You’re right. So I guess hyung has to be on the piano and to be the best man as well... I just want to thank you for helping me with the doorgifts. I’m on my way to get the invitation cards on foot since the traffic is so bad... I had to take half of the day off today.”

You snorted at his voice message. “Marriage is a lot of work Jimin.” Your eyes caught the glimmering tiny black diamond on your ring finger given by Yoongi on your wedding day five years ago. “I’m still surprised that he’s still around.” You whispered to it, eyes brooding to it. “He had bewitched me.” You added and leaned your head back against the wall. You were very tired. Yes.

But you were too tired that you can’t fall asleep because your body is in fight mode. It’s when your brain says they need to keep working so your body is doing all they can to stay awake, preventing you to rest or sleep even when it should. The workplace is hectic today, you could barely think. So when you were resting right now, some memories rushing in. Not because you want to, but because it was the most pleasant state of mind you have ever been in, that situation. Preparing for Jimin’s wedding made you think about yours. And what led to that.

When you decided to give Yoongi a chance.

See, Yoongi was not a definite call. The breeze blew softly, the fallen leaves dances in the wind while the pavements washed away broken twigs, that September, when everything ended.  Suppose to end.

Yoongi avoided eye contact. He stuck his gaze on your knees, while you handled the warm mug of coffee with both hands, giving nothing away with your hard and stern expression. You were dressed in a navy blue polka dot knee-length dress, your hair free to fall graciously, looking far too lovely for this conversation to take place. "I don't understand--" he began only for you to dart,

"--you just don't want to. We know this was coming." You took another sip as if nothing happened. Averting your eyes to the side when you heard Yoongi pushed himself back into the chair, scoffing with disgust. "No, you knew this was coming. It's so easy for you. It's always so easy for you," he shook his head in disappointment and an unforgiving sneer. Yoongi's heart is being played and he did not take it lightly. You made a pact with yourself that you will finish this last mug of coffee Yoongi made for you, and then you'll leave him and his heart behind. You've done all you can, all you need, and he seems better now than he ever was. It was time for you to go. "There are too many emotions at play. You know we're both are unhealthy in our ways of handling things. We're young, and you're set out for life. You're okay now. I cannot stay here," You told him.

Bullshit. "Bullshit." He shot. "Let's part ways. We'll stay friends." You gently say. That's all we were good at.

He took a huge blow. His sonatas began to sound darker, and grueling feel, the kind that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. "How can you have everything and then end up with nothing?" He stood in front of the full length mirror, not very drunk but not very sober before smashing the mirror with his bare fist. He stopped playing piano for awhile. Awhile became months, then years, then he let his piano piled up in dust in the corner of his living room where everything once was. He couldn't be near it, fearing that he might be consumed with the absence of you know you would always be around whenever he played a tune there. "She gave me everything I never knew I needed, and left behind not even a shadow or a sign that she was here," Yoongi spoke to one of his close friends, staring into the abyss, "...nothing to hold on to, nothing to touch and be reminded of. But she gave me one thing, she gave me memories, and they're imprinted in this brain of mine, make a living out of me."

Calls that went unanswered, the conversation that never happened. Yoongi in front of your door far too many times during the relationship. "What do you want? It's late." You darted when you open the door just enough to poke your head through. "Who are you having over? I see your lights on, is there something I need to know?" Yoongi's soft-spoken voice almost rattled your ground. When he glanced at you, he saw your clothes on the floor, folded neatly next to a luggage. "Why don't you answer my calls? Where are you going?" Yoongi was searching, searching for your face, that expression he needs to see. You're closing up, hardening, and he doesn't know why. "I'll tell you tomorrow, when it's daylight." You lied and Yoongi snapped his head to the side, smiling bitterly. "...I want to talk." He shot, like he was showing his wild card in a game of poker, and he wants control of the situation. "I want you to let go of me," you darted your weak gaze to him, the sparkles in your eyes, they dimmed, your eyes were so clear that Yoongi saw a reflection himself in those orbs. It almost killed him. Why are those eyes so inviting when your words are acid?

"...I'm sorry." He doesn't know what he was apologizing for, but he thought that it would make the situation better so he said it. "I'm so sorry." "Stop apologizing, it's not your fault. What are you apologizing for," you were ready to shut the door, but Yoongi held them open with a tinge of desperation laced in his voice, "Don't do this." "No, you don't do this." You plead, "Remember I told you about the things I don't say? Remember all the scars I never show? This is it. I will only bring you down, Yoongi. You deserve better."

I'll love your scars. I'll love all of your scars.

Door shut. Locked. Sometimes you have to let go,

The eviction notice fell from the table as you pushed your back to the door where Yoongi was banging on, calling your name repeatedly, ringing your doorbell. Your mother called a few days ago, and you remember the conversation as if it was yesterday. "They've taken the car, and the fridge. I don't know what to do," your mother sobbed through the phone. "It's okay, I'm selling the car, we will have money and keep our things mom, it's alright. My second job will transfer the pay no later than 27th, we can keep our things," You assured her, and she sniffed,

"...It's not enough. The bank came and they say the exact numbers, they're not enough."

It's like the sky had fallen on you. Along with its thunderstorm and chaotic wind. It was drought and downpour at the same time. It felt like the end. So it caused you to call someone you never thought of calling.

"Do you still want me?" "Of course." He said.

He had the money. He saved everything. No more eviction notice, your mother got the car back. Your brother can finish his law school. It's like floating up the surface of the water and finally breathing. He saved everything but you. He was abusive. So you needed to work and save money elsewhere before you run off again, "...he'll never find me."

You worked in a small bookshop. That bookshop has a small coffee shop next to it, and it has only been 7 months since you said goodbye to Yoongi. Sometimes you sing in wedding ceremonies with Jimin. Jimin is a talented pianist that you mutually befriended during you were with Jimin. He is trustworthy. Sometimes you both took a coffee break together, and have dinner to talk. Jimin doesn't speak of you to Yoongi and it looks like Yoongi understood it. "...He saw me once, when I was with that devil." You reminisce, your gaze is far from the distant and Jimin blinked towards the table you both shared. "I remembered his face, and it hurts," your eyes were dry just like your words. It was as if someone else is speaking in your place. Jimin was a little surprised. He didn't know this story. He didn't know that Yoongi found you.

After the painful break-up, Yoongi frequented a music shop right opposed to the bookshop you worked in. Fate plays its card and he ordered a coffee from your co-worker and saw you dragging a huge black plastic bag full of trash at the back just before the door closes. He thought he was imagining things. So he walked out of the coffee shop with a careful but determined swing of steps, pushing the glass door and made his way to the back where he thinks you were and dragging the plastic bag to the large bin, was the love of his life who broke his heart. His eyes caught you and so did you, there was no escape. But you'll make strangers out of everybody, so you averted your eyes away as if you had not seen anybody and he called your name. Realising that you cannot leave without saying anything, you rolled your sleeves down past your wrist and covered your neck with your hand, smiling back at his stern expression. "...hello, Yoongi." Yoongi closed the distance first, while you staggered in your stance.

"It's not really my break time, so I have to go," you added a dry chuckle next to the smile he missed so dearly. "I'll wait until you get off." He said as you walked back to the back door.

And he kept his promise. After everyone left, he waited in the cold for you. "I can't really be home this late," You said. Yoongi shoved both hands into his hoody and asked, "Are you happy?" You glanced at him. He had his white baseball cap, and a camouflage hoodie covering on top of it. "What's that suppose to mean?" You chuckled and you quickened your steps as if you sensed a danger coming and as you try to double the distance between you and Yoongi, you heard a stern call of your name. But before you could even answer to it, Yoongi's fist flew to the man's jaw, knocking him down to the floor instantly. Then he threw spit on the man's face, while you try to gather him away with all your might. Calling his name numerous time for him to stop, but it's like he was possessed to hear all your cries. "Yoongi, please!" You yelled, eyes glassy with threatening tears and Yoongi replied with a low growl, yanking his hand away from your grasp, "...How much do you need. How much do you fucking need to be dating this piece of shit!" He pointed at the man who is whimpering on the floor next to an empty street. There's barely people around this town.

He grabbed your hand and shoved the sleeves up your elbow where all the bruises and marks were. "Look at this, your arms, your neck," Yoongi spun around with both hand in the back of his head, and made his way back to the guy he just punched, "You fucker, how dare you to touch her." Stomp his rib, "I'm going to break your bones tonight, and you!" Yoongi snapped his head at you, "...Why are you so cheap? How much do you need? Are you that desperate for money?"

You clenched your lips, and stared into his mischievous eyes, delivering a slap across his beautiful face. Yoongi froze. It's like time stood still. You looked at him, and he could never forget that face, even if he died and lived again. He died and lived again. Gritting your teeth, you grumbled in agony, "...That's enough." 

Sometimes you have to let go. 

You grabbed your purse and sped away into a taxi, leaving those two shits behind. Having nowhere to go, since you leave with the devil himself, you found yourself at Jimin's doorstep. "I just need a place to stay overnight, if that's okay..." You smiled and Jimin never asked why. Sometimes he doesn't get an answer, and that's okay. Jimin got sick just before another wedding, and you needed the money that comes with the performance. Running out of options because it was too late of a notice, Jimin suggested one name. "He's the only one who could play the piano that we know of who knows out scores, and he had practiced with you before. He knows the songs that you will sing, there's no one but him. I'll ask him for you. He'll never say no," You recalled Jimin say.

And Jimin also remembered what you said. You said no.

But Yoongi came to that wedding in suits, sat on that white baby grand piano and played while you sing, just like old times. You sat next to him like how you used to, singing Florence & The Machine's 'Never Let Me Go'.

In the particular line;

"And all this devotion I never knew at all, And the crashes are heaven for a sinner released, And the arms of the ocean delivered me..."

You looked at him with wide eyes, holding the microphone close to your lips as you watched him play the piano with so many emotions, his eyes were closed as he allows the sound fill his soul. When it ended, the applause came and when the audience left, you only have him. The spotlight still shining on you both when everything else was dark. You put your microphone down to your lap turning sideways where he is, playing random rhythms, and you spoke in a small voice, "I've always wondered what you were thinking of when you close your eyes when you play the piano during that particular line I sang." Yoongi remained expressionless, but he took his fingers off the keys and cleared his throat, straightening up in his seat. "Is it the lyrics, or is it my voice," you trailed but noticing that he has been silent, you scramble to rephrase the words, to fix everything that you're not sure you broke, saying nonsense to make the conversation lighter and Yoongi said in an emotionless tone,

"Both." Yoongi inhales and began to provide explanation you didn't ask for, "...Sometimes, you speak better in the way you sing or the way you write, than you ever talk to me."

"I asked you not to leave me, where you're going, why you're leaving. I told you I can't lose you, how much I need you. Do you even love me? I know this is not the right time, here on this stage that I used to share with you," He chuckled dryly as he stripped himself bare, before you. "You were struggling, I was too. I learn to let go something I can't hold on to, Yoongi, you have to understand you have so many things to look forward to and I don't have to be there next to you for you to succeed because this is all you--"

Sometimes you have to let go, to see if they’ll come back.

"--says who." He darted his eyes at you, then downward. It rendered you silent.

"Marry me," he shot, "Marry me, right now."

Knocking on the door. "Someone is asking for you," you co-worker called, peeking her head through the door, and you put on your white coat, instantly. Sparkling eyes, with a box of fried chicken, your little brother came to say congratulations on the promotion. "Brought you chicken because I know you hate chocolate. I also have a box of potato wedges in case you don't feel like eating chicken," He arched an eyebrow at you, "Send my regards to the brother in law and mom says hi. Also the firm is celebrating its two months opening, hope you guys could come. It's after Jimin hyung's wedding, don't worry." Thanks to Yoongi, you finished your degree and your brother finished him around the same time. "Maybe you guys could stage another performance like old times?"

It sounded like a good idea, but first, Jimin's wedding.

When you reached home, the door beeped open before you could flash the card. Yoongi was already pouting his lips for a kiss, "How was the traffic?" He held the door open for you and you walked in with a groan, "It's Seoul, what do you think it's like?" He took your bag from the door and your coat. "Did Jimin text you what time he was coming?" Yoongi asked, remembering the reason why he was cleaning up the house. Since Jimin and his future wife is sending off another box of vase for the doorgift, he had to clean the house up because for sure, you'll invite them in for tea. But you didn't have time to organize the house, so he had to do it for you. Yoongi followed you into the bedroom while you shed off your blouse and socks, wearing only black bra to pace around the room. "...Around 8-ish, he says, he can't really say, since he had to fetch his wife first in her hometown," You gather your hair to one side while sitting on the floor to pull out a box underneath the bed, "I have been keeping this under my bed for awhile now, and I think it's time."

Hanging your coat and fetching your blouse from the bed, Yoongi sat on the floor next to the bed and watch you, "Time for what?"

"I bought a dress..." you wriggled your eyebrows at him. 'Is this the blue polka dot dress again you used when you tried to break up with me..." he shot.

"No..." you sang, "It's the one we bought in that in Waikiki." Yoongi knitted his brows together, "But that wasn't a dress." You revealed the dress and stood up. It was a hand printed fabric with tiny floral details, that Yoongi pointed out in that one trip in a fabric store. He said that, "...it looked like you. If you're a printed fabric." So you bought it and asked your cousin to have them made for you, the same way that polka dot dress were sewn, waistline knee-length dress. Since you were wearing only bra, you slipped those dress on and took off your work pants, spun around to show Yoongi how it looked like. Yoongi hugs his knees and gave you a gummy smile, crinkly eyes and a small, light-hearted chuckle. "...It looks good right?" You looked at yourself in the full-length mirror, and you saw Yoongi's expression through the reflection, full of adoration and love.

"It does. I have a good eye." He took the chance to self-compliment.

Crawling on all fours, you parted his knees so he could sit cross-legged before climbing into his lap with a faint smile on your lips, he circled his arms around your waist. "Working on Jimin's wedding made me think about ours..." You leaned your head back on his shoulder, his warm breath fanning against your exposed skin, calming. "...What about ours." He whispered. "Everything. How it began. How it almost didn't happen. My leap of faith and your persistence," you smiled, gratefully. "...I see how far we've come and I silently think about it when you sleep next to me. How did this creature managed to make me trust him when I could barely trust myself. How he loved me, when I could barely love myself. And why is he still here when I go insane," you trailed and trailed soft kisses down your neck, bit your shoulder gently, while you ruffle his hair. "I know what I want, I've lost you once, I wasn't going to lose you again."

Yoongi made a promise after that stinging pain on his cheek that night, that he was going to make you his, the next time he saw you. It didn't matter if you were preloved, he came back to finish his dues.

"It was love. It was definitely love. And I want it." Yoongi told himself,

"Verily, the stars had aligned, and they say, she's definitely mine."

[accio-ambition]

Hello, and welcome to another episode of what in the world are you doing to me, Maggie? In this episode, we'll feature adorable drunks, bedsharing, and sexytime boot scenes. Tune in for that and more, coming up!

A million and bajillion thanks to @shipsxahoy, @queen-icicle-fandom, @sotheylived, and those crazy kids at @captainswanbigbang. With each new chapter, I get a little sadder that this project is wrapping up and I don't think I'll ever be able to thank them enough.

Summary: Bouncing around with her son for the majority of her life, Emma Swan has told herself she’s happy in the city. It’s where the most camera operating jobs are, and that’s how she makes her money. But when an old friend calls her and asks for her help on a new project in small town Maine, Emma finds herself in a place she’s never been with people she doesn’t know filming a profession she knows nothing about. But when the captain of the ship she’s filming begins taking a keen interest in her and her life, she finds herself wondering whether she might just catch something other than fish. Deadliest Catch AU Rating: M Content warning: Character death, some violent situations Chapter warning: Foul language, clothed foreplay if that needs to be a warning

FFnet/Ao3/Cover/Snapshots/Gifset/Manip

Chapter Seventeen

A couple nights later, Henry sleeps over at Grace’s house after a long week at school and Emma takes advantage of the empty house by getting drunk on the rum Killian and Liam brought over for Christmas - which she still hasn't finished m. It’s not the smartest idea she’s had ever, but work has been rough lately. Since she doesn’t like to drink immensely with her son around, she tends to go hard on the few occasions Henry’s gone. Sad movies, drinking out of the bottle, the whole nine yards.

She’s probably a half hour into Pretty Woman - Julia Roberts telling off that snotty woman at the store is her favorite part, let’s be honest - when it starts to rain and Emma, perhaps influenced by the copious amounts of alcohol she’s consumed, goes outside to take it in. It seems to fit the mood: getting wasted and hanging out in the rain, letting the water wash away whatever worries and negative thoughts are bumping around in her brain. It’s rejuvenating, even if a bit chilly.

Which explains why when she gets a burst of energy, she absolutely has to run down to the Joneses’ house. What’s a better way to warm up then to run?

It really is freeing, having the raindrops pelt against her skin and drench her sweatpants. She makes it up to their front door without feeling out of breath at all, and knocks on the door with a bright, wide smile on her face.

While she waits, Emma realizes she’s stepped in a puddle or two on the way down there. The bottom of her pants pull the rest of them down, her bare ankles and feet nearly covered in the excess wet fabric. She crouches down to roll them up a little bit, but her hands aren’t working properly.

She’s still trying to hike up her pants - or maybe the mission has changed to wringing out the water - when the door creaks open and Killian answers, confused.

“You should really do something about your puddles.” she says in greeting, rising and effectively giving up on whatever she was trying to do.

“Pardon, love?”

“Your puddles,” she repeats, pointing behind her. “You should do something about them because they were in my way and I stepped in them and now my feet are wet.”

“Swan, are you…” he starts, and then dissolves into chuckles. “Swan, are you drunk?”

She shrugs, nervously twisting at the waist. “I’ve had a drink,” she admits. “Or seven.”

His chuckles grow louder as he shoots her a delighted smile. “Oh Swan,” he murmurs, holding out his hand. Naturally, she takes it. “My lovely adorable drunken Swan.” That makes her happy, a dopey grin growing on her face as she takes a step closer to him. “Where’s Henry?”

“He’s at a sleepover.”

“Well, I suppose it’s good you don’t have to care for him tonight.” Killian ushers her inside, tugging on her hand. He disappears for a moment, letting her drip alone on the hardwood floors of the entryway, and comes back with a pair of socks way too big for her as she ungracefully flops on the couch. Ever the gentleman, he takes one of her legs and places it on his lap, carefully rolling the socks up and onto her foot. He does the same thing with her foot, before tapping her shins.

“I’d suggest we start a fire, but we haven’t any firewood, so I’m sorry about that.”

“But then we could make s’mores.”

He laughs, sparking some warmth within her better than any fire could. “Yes, Swan, we could, but that would involve burning some furniture and I shouldn’t think Liam would be too pleased with me.”

She sighs dramatically, sinking further into the cushions. “Who cares?” She gets up, goes to kitchen to get herself some water, and peruses the fridge’s contents. Even the mention of s’mores makes her hungry for something sweet. Maybe they’ve got whipped cream and ice cream.

Emma opens up the freezer at the same time, trying to focus one eye on each side of the appliance, but all it’s doing is giving her a headache. She shivers.

“Is there something specific you’re looking for?” The contrast of the cool blast in front of her and the heat of his body behind her is far more intoxicating than the alcohol she’s drunk. It forces her to unconsciously sway back into him, her shoulders gently nudging into his chest. She takes a swig of water and turns around, letting both doors close behind her.

“No. Not really.” She shivers again.

Killian gazes down at her, a little smirk on the corner of his lips. “You should get out of those wet clothes,” he says, taking a step back. “Can’t have the boss falling ill, can we?” He takes her hand once more and drags her to the laundry room.

“I’m not your boss,” she whines, coming to a stop right in the doorway. Killian releases her and goes digging through the clean laundry. He hands her a shirt and a pair of shorts from atop the washer. “What are these for?” she asks.

“Change into them.” He leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. Through the wood, he says, “Change and throw your wet ones in the dryer. And when you can’t figure out which buttons to press, go ahead and shout.”

Emma wrinkles her nose. “I know what buttons to press, asshat,” she shouts.

She strips down and throws her clothes in the machine. She puts his shirt on and take a quick sniff and, ugh, even his shirt smells good.

(Bastard.)

She wants to prove him wrong, she really does because she’s not that drunk. She ran down here, didn’t she? And she didn’t fall flat on her face nor did she get any glass in her feet or skin her knees on rocks. Emma is a strong independent woman who doesn’t need help from any man.

“Killian!” she yells. “Killian, the dryer is broken!”

Far too quickly, he enters the mudroom chuckling. “Are the words moving as well?” he asks. “Is that how it’s broken?”

“The buttons won’t go down.”

“That’s because you’re not pressing on the buttons, you’re pressing about two inches above the buttons.” He programs the machine and it starts to rumble to life. When he sees she isn’t completely dressed, he turns away, the one ear she can spot tingeing red. “Those shorts should fit you. A conquest of Liam’s left them behind.”

Looking down at herself, Emma can see that the hem of his shirt covers her ass and, yes, it falls a little high on her thigh, but she’s covered. When she goes to give him a sassy reply, he’s already gone. To appease him, she forces her legs into the gym shorts, grumbling under her breathe the entire time.

Emma heads back to the living room and sprawls her body across the couch. “Where is Liam, anyways?” she asks.

“Last I knew, he was on a date with Ms. Belle French.”

“I knew it.”

Killian replies in surprise. “You know her?”

Shrugging, Emma begins to play with the tips of her hair, curling them around her finger in front of her face. “She hung out with Liam in the hospital when you needed to shower. And Henry reads like I film during the summer. We always gets to know the librarians.” She sighs and nods harshly. “About time. Good for them. Good match.”

“I’d have to agree,” he says, joining her on the sofa. Killian stares at her feet for a moment before deciding to forcibly lift her feet so he can sit. Her heels come to settle on the tops of his thighs. “The lads and I have been trying to get them to agree to dinner for quite some time.”

“That’s nice.” Emma crinkles her nose, overwhelmed by the menial tasks of comprehending Liam’s love life as well as the comforting feel of physical touch.

Naturally - and drunkenly, let’s face it - she decides that’s been enough of that.

“I should probably leave then,” she says. Emma takes her feet from Killian’s lap and struggles to get vertical. Crossing her arms over her chest, she shrugs again, this time much more awkwardly. “Wouldn’t want to intrude of any after-date activities.”

“No.” Following her suit, Killian stands, reaching out to rest his hand on her arm, steadying her. There’s a bit of urgency or something else along the same lines in his voice that surprises her. “He’ll text me if something should occur, though I don’t think it will.”

“Yeah, Belle is a bit of a prude.”

“Emma,” he scolds her sternly. “Watch your tongue. That’s not only my brother’s date, but a friend of mine.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes, licking her lips. “I don’t know why I said that. Belle’s super nice.” He’s still touching her, his hand slowly falling down toward her wrist, and it’s a bit distracting. She shakes her head, trying to clear the fog in her mind, regardless of whether it originated from alcohol or tension. “Can we watch a movie or something?” Emma asks, her gaze flicking toward the TV to her right.

He chuckles. “First you show up at my house unannounced, nearly break my dryer, insult my brother’s date, and now you ask if we can watch a movie?”

She shrugs, casually returning to the couch. “I’m not used to being in that big house alone.” Emma lies down again, letting her body span the length of the couch. With one eye squinted, she looks up at Killian. “So can we?”

Killian sighs and takes a seat on the couch once more, lifting her feet up to take their place and setting them gently on his lap. “What genre do you want?” he inquires, stretching out to the coffee table for the remote and turning on the TV. Save for the shift of bending forward, Emma’s feet stay snug on his lap.

“Something funny,” she requests. “Or something with a car chase.”

“How about Hot Fuzz?”

“Never seen it.”

She’s staring at the screen, which automatically scrolls through newly-added titles instead of the quick flicking Killian usually took to. Glancing down the couch from her, Emma sees his eyebrows touch the tips of his bangs. “Then that’s it,” he declares, leaning closer to her. “It’s both funny and has a car chase.”

Emma gasps dramatically, her hand falling on her chest. “Be still my beating heart.”

“You’re going to love it, Swan,” Killian assures her, searching through the menu until he finds it.

After pressing play, he rests his hands on her, one on her foot and the other on ankle. It’s almost domestic, like they’re on a date night in or something, the rain gently pitter-pattering on the windows and the hum of the movie on in the background. The alcohol still buzzes through her veins and gives her an overall sense of contentment. Her eyes begin to droop and she must fall asleep, for the next thing she knows, she is coming to surrounded by fluffy pillows and a luxurious blanket that most certainly aren’t hers.

The beginnings of a hangover headache gently knock on the inside of her forehead. Emma groans and fights her way out of the little cocoon she’d wrapped herself in. Her feet touch hardwood floors and she knows she’s not home.

“Killian,” she grumbles, wiping at the sleep still in her eyes. Her voice is deep and gravelly, so she clears her throat and repeats herself a bit louder.

Her ears perk up at the sound of quick footsteps in the hallway and before she can properly search the room for a weapon against an intruder, the door creaks open and Killian’s face peeks in.

“Everything alright, Swan?” he asks, his voice scratchy as well.

Emma pushes herself off the mattress and walks toward the door while Killian presses it open wider. “Yeah, I was just surprised to wake up not in my bed,” she explains.

“Oh,” he says, his voice and eyes falling a bit. “I thought I heard you call for me.”

“I mean I did,” she admits. “Kind of. I was trying to figure out what was going on with my voice.” His mouth opens slightly in understanding. “How did you hear that?”

“Ah,” Killian says with a smirk. He gestures to the room next door. “I was resting in Liam’s room. For as lavish as this house looks, the walls are deceptively thin.”

Emma nods, glancing about the room. “So this is your bedroom?”

“Yeah.” She hums, taking it in. It’s pretty sparse, but somehow perfectly encapsulates Killian. His window looks over the backyard and the waters beyond. The floor is spotless, his closet doors and drawers closed completely. A few aesthetic pictures - mostly of ships, unsurprisingly - decorate the walls and his dresser has a few shells and what looks like a photograph of the Roger’s crew on display.

(The man lives and breathes the sea.)

A movement catches her eye and she looks at him as he goes to scratch behind his ear. “I figured it’d be bad form for you to be woken if my brother and Belle decided to come in.”

“He’s not home yet?” she asks. “What time is it?”

“Close to two, I think.”

Silence falls between them, Emma hovering by his bed and Killian still standing in the doorway. “I should get home,” she murmurs, searching for her phone and readying herself to cool dampness outside.

“Don’t.” His request startles her, the earnestness and sincerity behind it confusing. She whirls around to face him and, if she’s not mistaken, she detects a hint of a blush on Killian’s cheeks. “You’re still a little inebriated, which means I would have to walk back with you and it’s still raining,” he explains. His hand casually gestures between the two of them before falling to his side. “Besides, you don’t want to be alone.”

Ignoring the army of butterflies that begin fluttering in her stomach - he remembered, she didn’t want to be alone - Emma’s independence roars its head. “I could walk home fine by myself,” she insists.

Killian gives her a side eye and scolds her in a low voice: “Swan.”

They stare each other, mentally willing the opponent to concede. Always up for a challenge, Killian takes a step closer to her, and Emma does the same, until they’re sock-clad to bare feet.

(It’s not fair, her mind tells her. Even when he’s not doing anything, the color of his eyes are distracting.)

“Fine,” Emma finally says on a groan. “I’ll stay here tonight.”

Grinning wide, Killian wraps his arms around her shoulders and pulls her into his body. His warm, sturdy body, a weakness even when she’s completely sober and awake. It’s basically her kryptonite now that she’s coming down from intoxication and a nap.

Emma hears the tell tale sound of the front door opening and closing a floor below them. The heavy fall of male footsteps swiftly follow.

“Looks like Liam’s home,” she remarks quietly, pulling away from Killian’s embrace.

“Indeed,” he murmurs, letting her move freely. He takes a step back, closer to the door. “I’m going to speak with him, but you can go back to bed. I’ll bring you some water.”

She nods absentmindedly before his words really register. “Wait, where are you going to sleep?”

“The couch,” he said, as if it's the most obvious answer in the world. Then he points to himself, a wry smile growing on his face. “Gentleman, remember?”

“Killian, no, I’ll sleep on the couch,” Emma offers, moving toward the bedroom door herself. “I came here unannounced and interrupted your night. Let me sleep on the couch.”

“I won’t have it, Swan.”

Groaning, she throws her hands up in the air, exasperated. “Fine. Then we’ll share your bed.”

“What? That, Swan, sounds like the exact opposite of any sort of solution.”

“No.” Emma, grumpy as she is from being woken from her nap, makes it back to the rumpled sheets of the bed and sits on them, staring intently back at Killian. “You won’t let me sleep on the couch and I demand you sleep in your bed.” She throws her arms wide, gesturing toward the empty side of the mattress. “It’s big enough for the both of us.”

Killian glances over his shoulder quickly before shutting the door. “Of course,” he mumbles, shuffling over the hardwood toward the bed. “Won’t even notice you’re here.”

“Thank you.” Now that he’s settling into his side of the bed, Emma allows herself to bury beneath the covers, barely warm from her earlier snooze. She sighs contently and falls unconscious with the echo of Killian’s constant breathing ringing in her ears.

0000

She’s awoken at a much more reasonable hour by the heat of a heavy weight on her hip. On her hip and across her stomach. It’s not uncomfortable, per se, just unusual. Henry’s not one to cuddle up to her like this. No, her son is very much a child to lay on top of her, just as she positioned him on her chest soon after he was born.

But this weight comes with more hair and muscles than any 11-year-old should have, even if they’re a chronic steroid abuser. As she’s waking up - much faster than she originally thought she would - Emma comes to realize that it’s not Henry.

It’s Killian.

Emma breathes deeply through her nose, a reaction of surprise more than anything. It’s been a long time since she slept - just slept - with anyone who wasn’t Henry. It’s comforting, she finds, coming to with the knowledge that someone else is beside you.

Carefully, she turns about to face Killian, trying her best to keep his arm around her. He’s a lot closer than she expected: her nose skims the tip of his as she establishes herself in her new position.

For a moment, she observes him in what will likely be the last moments of unconsciousness. He’s always been a looker, she won’t deny herself that. But there’s something about him when he’s not putting on an act. He’s not in front of the camera, pulling off the dickish captain, or Liam, acting as the worshipful little brother. There’s lines around his lips that show past laughter and bags under his eyes from endless night at sea and otherwise.

He’s even more handsome like this.

She must unconsciously move some part of her body, for Killian stirs, his eyes blinking away the remnants of sleep slowly. His vision must come into focus because he squints, as if he doesn’t really understand the sight before him.

“I insisted on sharing the bed ‘cause I couldn’t stand the idea of you sleeping on the couch,” she explains quietly, running her hand up his arm. It’s the first question she would’ve asked - what are you doing here? - were she in his situation.

Killian opens his mouth with an ah of comprehension. “I do remember that now,” he says. “Practically dragged me into bed, if I recall.”

“Did not,” she chuckles, squeezing his upper arm. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Perhaps.” His hand tightens at her back as he stretches, chin dipping to his chest and legs extending beneath the sheets. When he settles, his blue eyes connect with hers. “Although you have to understand why I’d think that when I have a lovely woman who forced me here in the first place is wound around me.”

“Hate to break it to you, buddy, but I’m the one who woke up with someone hanging off me.”

He sighs, burrowing his face into her neck. Emma can’t help but giggle.

(She tries not to focus on how nice this feels, the scratch of his scruff on her still sleep-warm skin, the comfort she draws from his breath on the crook of her neck. It’s more than she thinks she can handle.)

Killian keeps his face buried in its spot, his thumb rubbing at the small of her back. She returns the favor, moving her hand up into his hair and echoing the motion. They stay wrapped up in one another for what could be minutes or hours. Emma can’t be sure.

“I don’t think I realized how nice this is,” Emma says softly, trying to extend the moment for as long as possible. At his indistinct questioning noise, she adds, “Just sort of hugging someone. Holding and being held.”

Readjusting to be better heard, Killian asks, “How long has it been since someone held you, Swan?”

Emma shrugs, her voice going deep and hoarse. “I couldn’t even guess.”

“I’m glad I could be of service.” Groaning, Killian extricates himself from her hold, sitting up and scooting back until he sits against the headboard. His arms go up, coming to rest behind his head and Emma feels the loss keenly. “If you should need anything else, I shall strive to be of assistance.”

As silence settles between them, a traitorous thought pops into Emma’s mind. There is one thing he can...assist her with.

(And honestly, the fact that she’s even considering this means something. What exactly, she can’t be sure, but she is sure that in this moment, with him, she feels warm and safe and happy.)

Before she can stop herself, Emma leans forward, cupping his face in her hands. She kisses him, almost attacking him how hard she presses her lips to his. And for one moment, she’s shocked him. It’s a bit like kissing a pillow or a dead fish, something that doesn’t kiss back. For a moment, she regrets even thinking there was any sort of attraction between her and him, even though they’ve done this before. Maybe all those times was just the alcohol talking.

But then Killian’s one hand is tangled in her hair and the other is wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer to him, causing her to straddle his legs. He tugs at her hair to direct her, tilting his head in turn.

“Emma,” he mumbles, his lips leaving hers. “We shouldn’t. You’re-”

“Please,” she whispers, her voice hoarse again. He pulls back a fraction and she shakes her head. “Killian, I swear, I want this. This isn’t alcohol or the moment or whatever or anything. This…” Her laughter fans off his cheek and back to her ears. She’s nearly breathless when she admits, “This is a long time coming.”

Even as close as they are, Emma can still catch the raised brow he sends her. She feels the grin against her own lips. “Are you saying you’re in this for the long haul?” he murmurs back.

She chuckles again. “Let’s start with the one time and reassess from there.”

Killian adjusts her on his lap, pulling her hips closer into his. “Well, if I only get one time, I’m damn well sure going to make it count, love.”

He’s passionate, to say the least. His lips are insistent on the skin of her neck, leaving marks and bruises and making her sigh in pleasure more than she’s ever done in her life. Back with Neal, he’d been more to the point: get her wet enough to get his dick in without hurting her, then getting himself off in as few minutes as possible. Between borrowed rooms and simple selfishness, she’s sure, there was never really time for them to actually enjoy sexual acts.

But this. This makes her toes curl. Feeling his mouth follow as she swallows, his nose brush against the tense tendons of her neck. He bites softly at her collarbone through her shirt and, if she were younger, she’d lose her mind completely.

“Fucking fuck,” she breathes, enjoying the new-old feelings that bubble up in her stomach.

“Finally,” Killian chuckles against her skin, words partially garbled as he moves back to her neck. “A verbal reaction.”

Glancing down as best she can, Emma asks, “Is that what you’re trying to get out of me?” When he doesn’t answer immediately, she grabs at his hair and gently tugs it back to look him in the eye.

“Among other things,” he admits with that smirk of his. “I like to think of verbal responses as the gateway to the rest of your inner thoughts.”

“Trust me, you do not want to be inside of my head.”

“Your head is not the first thing of yours I want to be inside right now.” He cocks his eyebrow, his tongue peeking out from between his lips. “But if it takes me that way, then I’ll gladly take the detour.”

Emma’s laugh turns to breathy moans as his hand falls a little lower and he grabs at her ass. “Fuck, Killian.”

He stops.

“Say it,” he whispers. “Say it again.”

His words catch her off guard. All she’s said is...oh. Oh. “Killian, please,” she groans again, taking joy in the way his breath catches in how his name comes out. She realizes then that, though she’s trying her best, she still doesn’t use his given name too often. To say it in an intimate context as this - she gets it.

(She wonders if he gets the same thrill in the pit of his stomach as she does when the Ms in her name roll off his tongue.)

“Fuck, Emma.” He attacks her anew, pulling at the collar of her shirt to reach still-untouched skin. Her head rolls back on her neck, relishing in the feel of teeth lightly nipping at her collarbone.

“That’s the goal,” she responds belatedly.

He chuckles against her sternum. “My god, Swan, your commentary is both welcomed and unnecessary.”

“How so?” Emma asks, arching her back unconsciously, trying to get closer to him as his nose skims across sensitive skin.

Pressing a kiss to the side of her breast, still tucked away in her bra and shirt from last night, Killian rises up so he’s face to face with her. “I’m a fan of every part of you,” he whispers into her pulse point. “From the snark to the sky high walls I’m knocking down brick by brick.”

A sappy smile crosses Emma’s face. “Stop talking like that, you’ll build them again.”

Killian mimics it, smacking his lips to hers before working his way further down her body. “Then by all means,” he mutters.

She’s got more hickeys in this moment than she’s ever had in her life combined, surely - she can feel at least three blooming on different places on her neck and another with the way he’s mouthing at her skin right now - and she loves it. Killian’s marking her as his, belongs to her, no one else’s but –

“I’m not yours,” she grumbles, her words a little muffled as, together, they quickly disrobe him of his shirt.

“What’s that now?” Killian asks.

“I’m not yours.” She pulls back for a moment to connect their gazes. It’s a bit silly, she’ll realize in the afterglow, because Emma knows that Killian knows her boundaries. But still, it’s important he understands. “I’m my own person. I am me and no one owns me. I’m just sort of…” with a hand on his shoulder, she gestures wildly with the other one, looking for the phrase best suited for the situation, “lending me to you.”

He cocks an eyebrow in question. “I know that, darling,” he answers, his thumb brushing at the underside of her bra. “I never asked or said otherwise.” Killian kisses her gently, lingering but not heating it up. “But I do hope you’d like to ‘lend’ for now at least, maybe longer.”

“One step at a time, Jones,” Emma says with a chuckle. “For now, just kiss me again.”

He does as she wishes, a peck before whispering, “With pleasure.”

His hand may or may not drag up her outer thigh – and her inner thigh for that matter – while she scoots closer to him. And she might grind herself against him unabashedly but she doesn’t care. Killian has done so much for her and she so much for him since moving to Storybrooke and honestly? That shoulder to cry on he and his brother keep telling her about? She’s found it.

She’s found it in him.

He does something weird and oddly pleasant with his tongue, dragging it between her breasts above her shirt and she can’t be having that. Pushing him away gently, she tears her shirt up and over her head until just her bra is left.

“Go hard or go home, right?” she jokingly asks.

“Darling, your words couldn’t be more correct.” He grabs her by the wrist and pulls her hand down to his prominent erection, jutting up between their bodies.

“I feel like we should take care of that,” she quips.

Killian tilts his head to the side, rolling into her tightening grip. “Only if you want to.”

She smiles genuinely. “Are you not going to add ‘because I’m a gentleman’?”

He shrugs. “Didn’t think it was necessary.”

“Well, I think this is the first time it actually fits.”

Killian draws back and rests a hand on his bare chest. “Love, that almost hurts me enough to diminish this.” He gestures down toward where they’re still clothed but connected, her hand still resting on him.

Emma places her hand atop his, and entwines their fingers together. “Alas, not enough completely.” She kisses him with renewed vigor. “I’ll have to assuage you somehow.”

His hand buries itself between her skin and her clothes, gripping at her ass beneath her pants.

(He’s an ass man. Killian Jones is most definitely an ass man.)

“I’ve got a couple of ideas on how to remedy that,” he says with his signature smirk.

Emma returns it happily, her grin growing when his hand pulls her infinitesimally closer. “Oh, please, do tell.”

[lamiaward]

fuck the gods (not in that way!!*) and also give me my son back, you ********

*apart from , maybe, the very awkward blonde one.

I don’t own OUAT

Warnings : death. That’s it.

Some battles cannot be won.

Life is unfair. The gods are selfish, drunk bastards who laugh whenever another mortal loses what matters most to them. There are illnesses and wars and so much injustice. And Regina still didn’t see it coming. Because that is what the gods and the world may have been to her, but it should’ve been different for Henry.

Henry, who once didn’t eat an entire day because he shared his lunch with two of his classmates whose dad didn’t have enough money. Her little prince, who only fought only once and it was because a girl in his class made his friend Nick cry. Henry, sweet and kind and smart and funny and so, so good that Regina is surprised every day that there is someone so good in the first place.

Illnesses weren’t supposed to get to a boy like that. Doctors were supposed to smile and say ‘it’s nothing’ when he got sudden nosebleeds. There wasn’t supposed to be a coffin small enough to fit his body perfectly into it. It was supposed to be all a horrible, absurd dream.

But it has been a month, and Regina is still not waking up. Her son’s toys are where he left them, the last time he had enough energy to play with them. She hasn’t made his bed yet, after the day they rushed him to the hospital. His latest drawing is still stuck to the fridge, with his ‘I’s carefully dotted like she taught him.  There are a dozen other ones, papers she should perhaps throw out or bu- but instead they’re next to her bed and in it and on the table she is sitting lifelessly at.

She didn’t think it could be any more silent, or that silence could cut her even deeper. But now she is at the table, and she would honestly sell all her limbs and sight and all that money that is so useless for just one more dinner where her son wolfs down his dinner like he is in Hell and it’s the thing keeping him there (like her company is that unbearable). She would sell her voice for another glare, her kidneys for another refused hug, her – she would sell everything she has for all those moments she thought she despised more than anything and felt so empty.

Gods, how stupid she was. Empty isn’t Henry’s absence at breakfast or his barricaded door ( he used to beg her for another story, another, por favor mami). Empty is turning around, already asking him to hand the dishtowel and realizing he isn’t just quietly watching her like usual. Empty is waking up, and being confused by why she didn’t hear his alarm clock went off. Empty is no more books scattered through the house, not almost tripping over his shoes left somewhere, no careful admonishments.

She lives in a numbness interrupted by horrible, atrocious, overwhelming bouts of awareness brought on by anything of Henry’s until the moment. She later doesn’t recall whether it was a Tuesday or a Wednesday, what the weather was, who she was with – just that she yelled and cursed so much that she really lived up to the insidious nickname and she left.

She plans everything, always, but there was no planning involved this time. She just goes home, bakes, bakes more, throws it all in one of her bags and leaves for Vegas. She doesn’t pay any of the bright lights, the laughter, the throwing up and the whistling- she ignores it all as she storms to the entrance.

She throws the coin at Charon, pushes past ‘Spotty’ as their heads growl and bark and howl. She marches down to the throne- her hand clenches her sword so tightly she can feel the blood circulation start to get cut off but instead of throwing her sword at them, she does the unthinkable.

Regina Mills, evil queen, swordfighter extraordinaire, strongest charmspeaker in three centuries- stubborn, hard-headed, proud and with enough reasons to hate the gods for three lifetimes,

Kneels down on the ground and bends her head.

Emma had spoken in favour of Regina, once.

She didn’t know the woman, but she knew the stories. And the stories were clear about one thing ; Regina Mills did not pay the gods her respect. She had not done so when threatened with an afterlife of horrors, with a sword at her throat and nearly the entire council lifting their hands to vote against her.

(once, she had faked her respect and even love of the gods so perfectly that even Emma’s own mother had been so taken by the mortal girl with the sweet smile and beautiful yet devastating eyes)

That day the council had decided on Regina’s fate Emma had absurdly felt like she did know Regina and all it had taken was one look shared, one she never discussed with anyone. She had expected to never see the woman again, never hear from her, never have any cause to regret her decision.

And here she was, kneeling with her head bent even.

Emma was so surprised she rose immediately, and then cursed herself. What – why would I want to go to that woman, and comfort her? That’s crazy! But true. Regina felt off. She felt – Emma’s own eyes were burning and her throat closed and she actually suspected Regina’s involvement ( that poisonous- ) for a moment before she remembered when that happened.

She snuck a glance at her husband- and frowned. Neal was glancing at the woman with puzzlement and distaste. The gods were all running low on empathy, but Neal was usually one of the more empathic ones (although that most certainly did not keep him from making selfish choices). And here there was a woman that felt broken by grief and he didn’t do anything?

“ Nea-“

“ What brings you here, witch?” he commanded, sounding strict and cold in ways he usually didn’t.

She touched his arm briefly. “ Wait” she commanded in turn, not even bothering to look. She knew he would be shocked and unhappy. She held her eyes on Regina, and told herself it was just because only an idiot wouldn’t pay attention to their greatest enemy.

Then Regina slowly raised her head and she couldn’t have lied to herself if it would’ve cost her her immortality not to. What- Emma’s specialty had never been people, although she was good at telling when they lied and what they wanted. Still, despite Regina’s stoic appearance, Emma wasn’t fooled.

She only realized she had crossed the distance when Neal called out to her.

“ What are you doing ?” he repeated

“She is hurt”

“ She is a known enemy of- “

She ignored him, and offered Regina her hand. (according to rumours, Regina’s touch was tainted, more than Midas’s) . She expected the woman to refuse her but somehow wasn’t that surprised when a warm, soft hand accepted her own. She was surprised by how close the woman was to her, however.

And how vulnerable she looked.

“ EMMA”

She only glanced at him. “ Nea- “

“ That’s it. She is breaking the oath, and- “

“ My son- “ Neal and Emma looked away from each other at the sound of that. Regina visibly struggled before inhaling and exhaling slowly and finally adding “ he was lost”

Before Emma could speak, before Neal could start protesting, Regina added “ He is so good- you cannot allow him to suffer for my sins”

They both were shocked into silence. ( Regina had never admitted she had made mistakes. Regina didn’t love) Finally, Emma stepped forward. She felt Neal slowly step behind her. “ You know the – “

Some people were surprised that beautiful people could be ugly. Emma wasn’t, not really. She had been alive too long and been through much shit to be surprised when gorgeous people got ugly very fast. Still, she was disappointed when Regina’s entire face shifted and she –

“This is a mistake”

“ I am sorry-  Emma, I-  “

Emma relaxed her stance slightly when Regina nearly fell over she was trying to get her so fast, and reached out for Emma, only to drop her hand and swallow. “ I apologize” she whispered.

“All right” she acknowledged, nodding. Fuck, but there was something about Regina that made Emma feel -she didn’t have a good word for it, she wasn’t the goddess of words and stupid feelings that made her want to do stupid things like comforting people that would probably poison her.

Neal butted in before they could do more than stare at each other. “ no, not all right”

“ Neal- “

“Emma, she – “

“She is a mother”

“ Oh for – please don’t start talking about your mother”

“ Listen, she is kind of overbearing and way too involved and she still treats me like I am basically a kid, but I also love her. Anyone should have a mom, and the fact that I had to miss her at first, only because- “

“This woman, right in front of you, the one you want me to break the rules for, conspired against your family and pretty much ruined your life and had you do all these crazy things like some sort of gladiator”

“I am just saying we should give her a chance to speak. That’s all”

“Her family is notorious for being manipulators”

“Yeah well, still. It’s obvious she loves her kid”

“ I do” Regina interrupted, clearing her throat. “ And every moment you waste discussing this, Henry spends another moment in a place he does not deserve to be”

“ Regina- “

“ Please don’t let him suffer for my mistakes” it was obvious that Regina was struggling with being vulnerable and not letting her distaste show, but she was still genuine enough that even Neal hesitated. They shared glances for a moment and for a moment, she was sure he would agree with her. Whatever Regina’s sin are, that boy didn’t deserve to be stuck here.

But instead, he ruined everything and asked “ What about Elysium? Don’t you want your son to go there?”

“ You know very well- “ Regina cut herself off. Maybe she had realized how very hostile she sounded as she sounded more matter of fact ( though still like she would like to rip one of the bones that are used as decoration for Neal’s throne, and spear it through his heart) when she said “ The council ruled that no one belonging to my family will ever receive entrance to Elysium”

“ But the boy is not your blood”

Wrong thing to say. “ He is my family. He is my son”

Neal gave that special smile off him, the one that shows he is really uncomfortable. “ But you didn’t give birth to him. So that might be a loophole”

Regina looked about ready to proof the rumours were a lot more than just people trying to ruin her reputation, so Emma quickly stepped in. “ We will look for the boy okay?”

Regina nodded, once. It was really more of a jerk, or a flinch, but Emma decided to take it. She even crazily reached out to squeeze Regina’s bicep as she started walking. The woman went too fast, almost running, so Emma touched her briefly again. She startled when Regina flinched at the sudden motion, but the woman’s glare definitely said ‘back off’ so Emma didn’t push it.

In fact, they didn’t talk at all during the walk. Emma tried to keep Regina from walking too fast but it’s a lost case and she finally had to give up. As soon as the woman was speedwalking ahead of them, oddly unbothered by all the wispy, transparent people clutching at her sleeves and muttering in dozens of different languages and dialects , Neal caught up with Emma

“Emma”

She kept her eyes on Regina, although she shot Neal a quick smile. “Yes?”

“ She broke the laws”

“ Neal- “

“ No, listen. She seems- I mean, she is obviously still terrible but she really seems to care. But I can’t allow her to leave unpunished. We very specifically banned her”

“Since when do you care about rules and the other gods? Most of them are jerks”

“ Yeah, but they’re also more powerful if they work together”

Emma snorted. “ When do they ever work together? “

Neal smiled.  “True” Then he sobered “ But you know we can’t just let her break all the rules. It’s already bad enough we let her off in the first- “

“Neal. What we did was not ‘let her off’, okay? We could’ve been harsher yeah, but we weren’t exactly merciful”

Neal was silent for a while, just long enough for Emma to be caught off guard when he suddenly said “ You never told me why you helped her”

“ You never asked”

“ Figured you didn’t want to talk”

It was Emma’s turn to be silent for a while. “ Saw something in her”

“What? She’s -  “ he trailed off, and Emma decided that was the right moment to say something. Not everything, of course, as she couldn’t really put it into words anyways, but something. “ She isn’t just bad. Even if every horrible thing is true – “Emma shrugged. “ I felt like it was important that we gave her that chance”

“ Emma- “

“I know , okay? It’s – “ Emma laughed. “ It’s crazy, even by my standards, but-  “she shrugged. “ I dunno. I just feel like –“  

Regina’s shriek interrupted their conversation. Emma nearly hurt her neck when she snapped her head to watch Regina, running and stumbling and finally throwing her arms around a small, transparent, barely visible boy. It was difficult to spot any colours, but it seemed like he had had brown hair. Brown eyes.

“ His eyes are kinda like hers” Emma says, watching Regina fall to her knees and try to touch the boy’s chin, again and again. She can see the woman’s lips move rapidly, but she’s too far away to hear. Maybe she should be glad. It looks painful.

It was. That much became clear when they got closer and heard Regina say  “Henry, it’s me. Mijo, por favor” while trying to touch his chin, stopping, trying, hesitating, and muttering his name again. Emma froze, caught by the woman. A glance at Neal showed him equally entranced, as surprised as her by how Regina wasn’t attempting to keep anything intact anymore.

She obviously didn’t care about what they thought of what she looked like, completely lost in the attempt to make her son actually look at her.

Instead, he stared past her. The Underworld didn’t leave much left of people, diminishing their memories and feelings and even consciousness. Regina knew that, maybe better than anyone but the rulers of the place themselves. Still, she kept trying to talk to Henry, getting more desperate, shaking more, touching his chin and trying to turn his head her way.

She couldn’t even touch him- the dead were not physical here. There was nothing but a vague sight- kind of like seeing a person’s reflection. Emma was just about to step in, keep the woman from a full-scale meltdown when the impossible happened.

Henry swallowed and choked out “ M- Mami?”

Regina started nodding rapidly, then stepped even closed and muttered something. Emma couldn’t hear, but it made another impossibility happen- Henry smiled. It was still barely there, and more confused than happy but there was certainly some sort of recognition. She could’ve stared for a while longer, something about the little family reuniting as beautiful as painful but Neal stepped forward before she could do anything.

“ It is time to say goodbye”

Regina stepped in front of her son protectively. It was ridiculous, because she was just a mortal, one with special parentage surely but still mortal but Emma actually felt mildly threatened. She even reached for her sword automatically, not that she wanted to.

“ Neal, maybe- “

“ No. That’s going too far, Em” he’s really serious if he calls me that. For some reason, Emma kind of wanted to punch him. She actually had to take a few deep breaths and then take a step back.

“Come on, she just- “

“ She can’t keep getting away with her crimes”

Emma looked at Henry. He looked actually afraid now, eyes wide and lips trembling slightly. It was painful to look at, actually. More painful to look at, was how he tried to move in front of his mother after only a really short hesitation.

“ Kid, don’t do that” she admonished him.

“ She- “  he shook his head. She got it. The dead quickly lost their voices, not able to speak at all or just not remembering enough to have anything to say.

“ Listen, Henry was it?” Neal said, taking a step towards the terrified little boy. He nodded, only hesitating for a second. Regina tensed, her hand dropping to her stomach while her other one grabbed her sword tightly.

“ We’re going to get you to a good place, but your mom can’t come okay?”

“ why not?” his voice was really hoarse, but at least he could still talk. It took him several tries, but at least he still could remember the words ( the dead usually held on to the feelings connected to their loved ones the longest, the rest was gone quickly)

He blinked rapidly, his entire face scrunching up. “ Is it because she – is it because she was bad?”

Regina didn’t bother to hide the devastation and Emma could only stare at her. It was Neal who answered “ Yes. She needs to pay for that”

It took him a lot longer this time, but finally Henry managed to push out “ Will it hurt?”

“ No, this place you are going to – “

“ No-, not- I – “ he stammered, then glanced at Regina and moved in front of her again. She just stepped around him, trying to keep her body in front of him.

“ Listen Henry, your- “

And then the kid started bawling. Not just crying, not sobbing but bawling. He tried to cling to his mother, only to start shaking when he couldn’t. He looked terrified and pained and angry and his mother couldn’t do anything. It was obvious to Emma that Regina knew what to do, just that she couldn’t.

Because calming her son meant hugging him, or another brief, calming touch and her son was dead.

“ I am – I am – “ it wasn’t just the bawling, he was fading again. As goddess of the Underworld, Emma knew that shit.

“ S- s – so – sorry” he finally managed, trying to hug his mother again. Emma wanted to break every single rule, just to stop it.

“ It’s – it’s – “ Emma was pretty sure that was called hyperventilating. Could the dead even do that, shit? “ My – my f- fa- fault”

“ No. No, mijo”  Regina managed a trembling smile. “ You were so good. You were right, and so good”

She swallowed, and looked at Neal. “ Will he be all right?”

“ Yes”

“ Ha- “ Regina had to take several deep breaths before she could speak, her hand holding on to her stomach so tightly that it must hurt. She was trying to ignore Henry, who was kind of screaming now. “ Happy?”

“ Yes”

Regina bend over, so she could look Henry in the eyes. “ Mi principito- “

Henry wasn’t speaking anymore, just shaking his head and gesturing. His eyes were wide, face completely free of tears even if he was obviously still crying and he kept trying to hold on to Regina.

“ You will be happy” Regina tried to kiss his forehead, then swallowed when it wouldn’t work. “ Sé valiente, principito”

Henry tried to keep close to her, grabbing for her sleeves and her bag and even her hair but Regina still moved away. She was hyperventilating herself now, tears streaming down her face and her body shaking so badly that you could hear the clatter of her teeth. She was also very obviously trying to look indifferent, but she almost screamed when Neal touched Henry’s shoulder –

And disappeared.

---  SIX MORTAL MONTHS LATER

Goddesses cannot die-

But they can get ill.

It only took a week before the illness really got Emma. She no longer slept. She was more short-tempered than usual, snapping nearly every time someone tried to talk to her. She kept to herself, to the point where her voice would get hoarse from disuse. She no longer laughed at Neal’s jokes, or even just smiled at him.

Gods are very selfish-

But they can be selfless.

It took six months before Neal caved, and realized this would not stop. Emma no longer shared a room with him. She no longer smiled or punched him gently or did anything of the things that made him love her. She wasn’t herself anymore, and there was only one thing he could do.

Emma woke up wrapped in a bright red jacket, a letter in Neal’s handwriting – go get her Em-  in her hand and a boy sleeping in the chair. His hair was a brown, his eyes hazel and his skin not translucent at all.  It took her two seconds to appear in the throne room, hug Neal and joke her way through a tearful goodbye and appear in front of a house with a boy protectively held in her arms.

Regina Mills opened the door.

Emma smiled, shyly, and shrugged.

“Hey”

Just a quick one-shot because I don’t have work until late tomorrow, and I have horrible difficulties writing lately. ( also I am still obsessed with Greek mythology, so this is based on like four separate myths oops) Also used some PJO stuff, like charmspeaking & the entrance to the UW being in Las Vegas.  Hope you enjoyed!

[u4ea02-blog]

The Villain Wrangler- Chapter 1: First Day Jitters

“So, here is your desk,” Margaret pointed to a cubicle in the center of a sea of them. It had the bare minimum in the way of amenities, a computer that looked like a hand me down from the last century, a phone that was so new it still had plastic around the handset, and a chair with a huge tear in the stained seat. The foam cushion core was missing a few chunks and the wheels were an ancient memory. “There’s an assignment meeting at 10, so…”

She was biting back laughter, I could hear it in her voice. She left without another sound and I sighed, my eyes scanning the dusty surfaces of the desk. Cringing inwardly, I sank into the chair and pulled open the large drawer on the bottom of the desk. It was empty, save for something unidentifiably sticky in the bottom, and I closed my eyes as I dropped my purse inside it and pushed it closed again.

“This is a volunteer job,” I murmured to myself, deciding that if this was the beginning of this nightmare, I would be wearing it like a badge for the length of my stay here. A quick search yielded no interest in the drawers. There wasn’t so much as a scrap of a sticky note in any of them. I drummed my fingers on the desktop and chewed the inside of my lip. I flicked a glance at my wrist and groaned. It was eight thirty-five on my first day after a two day training session and I was already ready to pull my hair out in boredom. I pushed away from the desk, trying to ignore the dangerous wobble in the chair as it swivled, and launched out of the cubicle. “May as well get familiar with the layout of the office.”

Logical, no?

I wandered the floor, afraid I’d never find my desk again, since I’d forgotten to make note of the landmarks in my haste to get away. I found the restroom which was, thankfully, extremely clean, and the water fountain which, unfortunately, wasn’t. I found the elevator with it’s crooked “OUT OF ORDER” sign and the stairwell door that was standing open just around the corner. The breakroom was aptly named, since everything in it seemed broken. It’s good that the lunch schedule was flexible, I supposed. There was a set of motivational posters someone had torn out of a calendar in 1995 and thumb tacked to the wall, complete with curled edges and faded spots. The clock hanging on the wall informed me that I’d managed to waste thirty minutes in my wanderings.

“I’ve called him twelve times, Joan,” a man’s voice drifted in from the set of cubicles just outside the door to the breakroom. “He’s not answering, anymore. I can’t even find this one and…” his voice dropped and I couldn’t make out what he said after that. I moved towards the sound, since I hadn’t even seen evidence of people on this floor since Margaret had walked away from my cubicle. I turned a corner and found, not one, but two people standing in the isle between the cubicles! Relief swirled through me and I hadn’t even noticed I had been getting tense. A woman, older and slightly stooped, wrapped in what looked like a hand-knitted sweater in a shade of green that shouldn’t be allowed, anywhere outside of a sick ward, and a knee length pencil skirt, was standing about a foot away from a much larger man with red cheeks and a tie that looked like it was cutting off his oxygen. His moustache was a bushy thing and I imagined he hadn’t changed the cut of his hair since the 1980’s. They both seemed to notice me at about the same time and flinched, as if they’d been caught with confidential information.

“Um, hi!” I stepped a little closer hesitantly. “I’m Dorothy. It’s my first day and I’m…”

The woman’s demeanor changed immediately. She went from office gossip to sweet granny in less than fifteen seconds. I had to admit, I was impressed! “Of course, hello there! I am Joan, the department secretary and this is Howard Jones, one of our case workers. We were discussing some difficulty we’ve been having getting people to respond to our requests, recently. We are really looking forward to some fresh energy around here. We haven’t had new people in a really long time.”

Oh, she was good. I’d been around this block before, though. A sweet woman like this one was the reason I’d lost my last job, in fact. I wasn’t falling for that again. She didn’t need to know that, though. “I understand, believe me,” appeal to the sense of commonality. “In my last job, I felt like a bill collector! And all I was doing was confirming doctor’s appointments!” I smiled warmly and turned my attention to Howard, who still hadn’t said a word and was looking at me like my hair was purple or something. “It’s wonderful to meet you, both. I’m trying to get my bearings so I’m not lost, later. The meeting at ten is…where, again?”

Joan chuckled and turned to Howard. “I’m going to show Dorothy, here, where everything is. I’m sure Margaret just dumped her at her desk and walked off. I swear, that woman could win a contest for most volunteers run off in a year without even trying! We’ll continue this, later?” She raised her eyebrows and Howard just nodded, turning away, still without saying a word to me.

“Now,” Joan continued, looping her arm through mine as if she needed the help walking. “The general staff meeting is every Wednesday at ten AM in the main conference room. You found the break room?” She nodded towards it without stopping. “The fridge hasn’t worked in years, so I don’t recommend bringing anything you have to keep cold. Donations are down and the funds we have are mainly spent on trying to raise more of money. Our clients are all so very important to us.” I nodded without saying anything. I was well aware of the state of the company I had volunteered to help and what they were trying to do. It was my work in fund raising that had landed me this position, after all. Though, to be honest, I was pretty sure I was the only person who had applied for it. “The West corner is where all the conference rooms are. The main conference room is Room B, in the center. It’ll have the corner windows and a beautiful view of downtown.”

I noticed the quality of the furniture was getting better, the further we went down the side of the building, until, by the time we’d reached that end of the building, there was a large open office floor plan and standing desks with touch screens mounted everywhere. There was still not a single person around, though, and it felt a little strange to see a space with that much potential not being used.Joan opened the door to Conference Room B, with the large windows and, indeed, a beautiful view of the skyline outside. The room was dominated by a large table and twenty chairs, all in much better shape than the one at my desk. In fact, this room looked like a conference space straight out of a Fortune 500 company, all the way to the ceiling mounted projector and smart board that dominated the back wall. A closer look at the table showed touch screen controls inbedded into the tabletop, giving each person a closer look at whatever was being presented, and even data ports to plug in personal devices to enhance collaboration. I knew where this company’s money had gone and I shook my head, slowly. Joan was babbling about the functions available in this room and I murmured understanding of things I wasn’t sure I truly grasped.

She led me back to the other end of the building and I couldn’t control the questions any longer. “Joan, can I ask… why does this end of the building look like the set of a bad 80’s horror flick and the other end look like something Steve Jobs designed?”

Joan chuckled again, patting my shoulder as we arrived back at what I had to assume was my desk. “We thrive on donations, dearie. This end of the building is rarely seen by anyone who doesn’t work here, so the donated equipment generally goes where people WILL see it. Now, you remember your way back? You have about thirty minutes before your meeting. I’m at extension 4785 if you need anything!”

She started to leave and I had a sudden thought. “Um, Joan?”

She turned and I caught the very end of an eye roll that she hid behind the sweet granny façade again. “Yes, dear?”

“I have no supplies. Is there a supply closet around here? I could really use a notepad and a pen for the meeting.” I could play this new girl card as long as she could play the sweet granny card, after all.

“Oh, silly me. Of course, there is. Go right at the wall and the closet is the last room before you reach the corner. Don’t let the door close behind you, though, or you’ll get stuck in there! See you at ten!” And with that, she bustled away, leaving me standing in my empty cubicle with only vague directions to the supply closet. I checked my watch. Fifteen minutes until the meeting. That was long enough to find a notepad, surely.