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deniigi · 3 years

Note

I love the fic you showed on Luke, Han, Chewie being kidnapped by the trio- I would love to see more! Is there a chance we might see that fic or sections of it? I hope you are having a great day!

You may see more sections of it! It’s like 30k because I have zero self control sometimes, so idk if I will post the whole thing, but snippets I can do!

I wrote a fuckin’ hilarious bit where Han tells Paz that Luke’s got a crush on Din. Paz thinks about Din’s sexuality for .05 seconds and immediately has an anxiety attack that Din feels like he’s got to hide his queerness.

He brings it up with Din, who promptly astral projects in embarrassment.

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

This was a reconnaissance mission now. One which Luke was again having fun on. With Djarin refusing to speak to his comrade, Luke wriggled right into the place he’d left behind and started agitating again. He goaded Djarin and Fett that he could shave hours off the current course time. Han and Chewie hung back and strategically did not back up a damn thing he said.

Paz, uncomfortable to be on any ship that was not his own, clutched at his fingers and watched Luke chasing Djarin like an underfoot puppy in concern.

“What does he want from Din?” he asked Han and Chewie quietly.

Han blinked slowly.

“He’s got a crush,” he said.

Paz’s helmet managed to blanch.

“You’re kidding,” he said.

“Yeah, your boy’s ticking every one of Luke’s boxes, I’m afraid,” Han said while Chewie snickered. “He’s already decided on a destination wedding.”

Paz rubbed a few knuckles under the edge of his helmet and looked away.

“I dunno if the Armorer’s gonna be cool with that,” he said.

Han snorted.

“Armor isn’t strong enough for him, he’s got mind powers,” he said.

Paz’s helmet turned slightly back towards him.

“The Armorer is Din’s parent,” he said. “She leads the teachings at our covert.”

AHA. Orthodox. Han had it now. Djarin was a preacher’s son.

“I don’t know what that means,” Paz said.

“Don’t worry, I got you,” Han told him sympathetically. “It’s okay, though. People are more tolerant than you think.”

“I still don’t know what that means,” Paz repeated.

“You will,” Han soothed, “You will.”

It was an hour before Paz blurted out, “Wait you mean he’s gay?” and Han almost cried, he was laughing so hard.

This was supposed to be a hostage situation, but Paz was making this trip a pleasure cruise. He’d gotten about fourteen thousand times more awkward around both Luke and Djarin anytime they passed by. Luke had caught onto this with interest.

Han did nothing to stop him. He and Chewie finally had entertainment after hours and hours of torture.

Paz inched away.

“I’m happy for you,” he told Luke. “It’s fine.”

Luke cocked his head at him and got closer.

“No, man. Not me, sorry,” Paz said. “You got—you got Din. He’s—well, honestly the last I saw him he was like, fifteen and sort of scrawny, but you know he’s probably grown a couple muscles by now.”

Luke lit up.

“I know, he picked me up,” he said.

Paz vibrated.

“Mm-hm,” he said.

“Do you think he likes me?” Luke asked him.

Paz vibrated so hard his armor nearly started knocking against itself.

“He’s really into ancient Tusken shit,” he said. “Ask him about ancient Tusken shit.”

Luke’s eyes couldn’t get any wider or rounder. Any more of this and his pupils would start dilating, too.

“Copy that,” he said, then vanished.

Chewie whimpered and wiped tears from his eyes. Han leaned into his side and grinned so wide his face hurt.

Luke took to flattening himself against the cockpit door and serenading Djarin in the other side with pleas for information about Ancient Tusken culture. Djarin was understandable baffled. He smelled a rat and refused to be forthcoming with any new knowledge.

That made Luke caterwaul louder until Fett had enough of him and locked Djarin out of the cockpit too, with instructions to ‘silence the Jedi before I do permanently.’

Djarin was now stuck out here with the rest of them. He crouched in front of Luke and they had a staring contest for a good two minutes before Djarin got up and sighed.

“You have so much energy,” he said. “No wonder Grogu likes you.”

Luke rocketed up to stand next to him proudly.

“I don’t sleep most nights,” he said.

Djarin studied him.

“I see that,” he said.

“Han and Leia say that I’m a ‘hostile’ bedpartner when I do,” Luke said with finger quotes for Djarin’s benefit.

Djarin, Han swore, was trying to think of a polite way to say, ‘Sir, I think you’re at breaking point.’ But instead he said, ‘do you like tea?’ to which Luke said, ‘absolutely not.’ Djarin told him that he had a great tea for him to try and was thereafter followed into the Falcon’s kitchenette around the corner.

Paz, in the meantime, was absolutely shitting himself. No longer able to avoid this conversation with Djarin.

“I think it’s cute,” Han goaded with Chewie nudging his ribs the whole time.

“The Armorer will not approve,” Paz insisted.

Djarin had done the impossible: he’d put Luke to sleep. He delicately removed the mug of (possible sleep medication) tea from Luke’s unconscious deathgrip and asked Han where the used dishware went. That was thoughtful. Han told him to just stick it any damn place around the sink and he or Chewie would get to it.

He did and then came back to settle in next to Paz. Paz visibly experienced a rainbow of emotions. Djarin didn’t notice a single one of them. Instead, he crossed his legs and held the orange tips of one hand in the orange tips of the other.

“I wanted to apologize, Paz,” he said. “After what you’ve sacrificed for me and the kid, I should have been more grateful.”

“D—don’t mention it,” Paz stammered. “It’s—it’s the Way.”

“It is the Way,” Djarin agreed. “I think I was afraid of how to face all of you afterwards.”

Han could hear Paz’s internal scream from here.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll bet you, uh, did. It—it wasn’t the first time, was it?”

Djarin sat up a little straighter.

“No. How did you know?” he asked.

Paz shivered.

“Just a feeling,” he said. “You know, uh. Din. You don’t have to be ashamed of anything, right? You’re—you’re like my little brother. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you or anyone say anything to you. Okay?”

Awwwwwwwww.

Djarin looked up into Paz’s visor.

“Are you sick?” he asked.

“What? No. I’m. I’m saying, that if you ever had something you wanted to tell me, or you know, any of us. We’re always here to listen,” Paz said. “And to support you.”

Djarin’s silver helmet tilted worriedly.

“I already did,” he said.

“GREAT,” Paz said. “Perfect. You’re doing amazing.”

Djarin pulled back, officially disturbed.

“Right,” he said slowly. “So I’m gonna—”

“Listen, kid,” Paz said, grabbing the strap between Djarin’s chest and back plates and dragging him back down to sitting. “Think about your parent.” He took Djarin’s hand from where he was actively trying to escape and held it in a firm, masculine grip. “She loves you, you know that.”

“Paz, I’m panicking,” Djarin said outloud.

“And she was so happy for you to have a foundling,” Paz carried on like plough. “So she’s gonna be happy for you, no matter what.”

Djarin could not pull his hand out of Paz’s grip, and boy was he trying. He’d started a cool descent to the floor, he was trying so hard.

“I know,” he grated out.

“But a jedi, Din?”

“He can’t help it, man,” Djarin said, still struggling almost on his back now. “You said it yourself. It’s a born-with-it thing.”

Paz stared forcefully at his knuckles.

“You’re right,” he said, letting out a slow breath. “But if that’s how it gonna be, you really should propose first.”

Djarin’s helmet somehow managed to emote ‘shock’ on the ground there.

“I’m sorry, what?” he asked. “I barely knew her.”

“Her?” Paz asked, then caught himself. “Sorry, sorry. Not my business—”

“It was like, a week at most—”

“Not my business.”

“And yeah, she had a great kid and—”

“Wait, wait, hold up,” Paz said. “Who are you talking about?”

Djarin stared.

“My friend? From Sorgen?” he said. “Who are you talking about?”

Paz went very still.

“You’re fuckin’ some gal on Sorgen?” he asked.

“No?” Djarin said. “I mean. She wanted to, and I thought about it, but it was only a week, and I didn’t want her to feel like I’d used her only for—who are you talking about?”

“The jedi,” Paz said, pointing at Luke’s languid, curled up self on the table’s bench.

“Why would I be fucking the jedi?” Djarin asked. “He’s my son’s teacher, Paz.”

“Because he’s crushing on you?” Paz asked, equally upset and confused. “And you’re gay, so?”

“I’m what?”

“Gay????”

“I am??”

Han was crying. Han was sobbing.

These idiots were days of comedy. Look at them go. Look at ‘em spin.

“Din, please. You don’t have to fake it. I support you—”

“I didn’t ask for your support?”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of—”

“I’m not ashamed.”

“Are you sure? Because I’m picking up some strong feelings. And I don’t want you to think that—”

“Paz, what I want more than anything for you to do right now is to stop thinking. I’m not gay.”

Paz pressed a hand against his helmet like he was in physical pain.

“But the way you always looked at Teyo,” he said.

Djarin had a tiny stroke and slammed his fist into Paz’s arm.

“DON’T MENTION—”

“What the FUCK, brat?”

“HOW DARE YOU—”

“Why’re you yellin’ at me now??”

“Why’re you bringing up some childhood shit, haven’t we done enough of that already?”

“Why’re you so mad? I’m tryin’ to be supportive. If you wanna fuck the Jedi, fuck the Jedi. I’m just sayin’ maybe don’t tell the Armorer until after you’ve done it, so she doesn’t think you’re under some kinda mind-trick or somethin’, alright?”

Han no longer needed those helmets. He had these characters down. Djarin was gaping now. In shock and offense.

“Never speak to me again,” he decided.

“Bro,” Paz said.

“NO.”

“Karkin’ hell, Din. What’s your problem?”

“Excuse me, I must drown, where are your facilities?” Djarin asked Han directly.

“Round the corner, on the left,” Han told him.

“No, no, no,” Paz said, grabbing Djarin by the cape and dragging him back. “We gotta talk about this. We gotta process.”

“I’m not processing shit with you,” Djarin said. “I am not fucking the jedi.”

“But you want to,” Paz deduced.

“I—what? Wh—do you want me to have relations with him? Did I miss something?” Djarin asked.

“I want you to feel supported,” Paz said.

“I don’t. I feel targeted,” Djarin said. “Stop targeting me.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll stop.”

“Good. Let go.”

“But if—”

“Paz, I’m going to behead myself.”

“If you do want to have sex with the jedi, later. That’s fine. Or anyone else. That’s fine, too.”

“BOBA.”

Behold. A breaking point.

#fic #paz vizsla #din djarin #the mandalorian #I literally just want to write Din and Paz fighting and being secretly protective of each other 24/7 #idk if that's been made clear yet #do you think I'm being too subtle?#ficlet

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crispyjenkins · 4 years

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fic with ahsoka as Obi-Wans Padawan? Maybe some angsty jangobi? (Used to be together but broke up and now they pine from afar™️)

(i’m devastated that i don’t get to write ahsoka much, especially as obi’s padawan, so that an anon would come into my inbox.... and request jangobi on top of it..... seriously, though, thank you! can’t say i wasn’t inspired by @autumnchild22’s Kenobi Tano AU, but this doesn’t share almost anything with their take of events (ノ*´◡`) i’m flattered y’all thought i could do something of theirs justice lmao

i have written entirely too much backstory for this one, i think my brainstorming ended up longer than the actual fic so like. rip.

support artists and writers by reblogging, message me for more info if this confuses you!)

It surprises everyone except Obi-Wan that not only does Jango join the clones on the front lines, but he does so as the ARC troopers’ medic. That the son of the Mand’alor murdered by the Jedi would allow his kid to be apprenticed by a lifetime Council member is already hard enough for the galaxy at large to swallow; believing that the man who had at once been the most feared bounty hunter in the Outer Rim wouldn’t even ask for a command position? Impossible.

Obi-Wan knows better. Just as Obi-Wan had picked up Soresu because he could not protect his master on Naboo, Jango had learned to put people back together because he could not save his buir on Korda 6.

Besides, Obi-Wan thinks Mace is a wonderful match for little Boba, even though he’s joining the Jedi older than even Anakin had been. Knowing Mace was among the Jedi to liberate the spice freighter Jango had been sold to, and that he had continued to check in on Jango for years after he got his armor back, Obi-Wan actually finds it rather silly that others on the Council had thought Jango would trust Boba to anyone else.

Which does leave Obi-Wan in quite the predicament, when less than a year after Anakin's knighting, Mace sends him a new padawan in the middle of a campaign.

Ahsoka smiles with all canines, and calls Anakin Skyguy, and has to be tricked into wearing more armor because, according to Cody, she is "not to take the General's lack of self-preservation as the status quo, nor as the basis for field safety." Which, rude, Obi-Wan wears plenty of armor when the situation calls for it; he simply doesn't find many situations where plasteel has kept his men or the Jedi from dying horribly.

Letting Ahsoka gallivant around a battlefield in a tube-top without even a cloak, however, is out of the question, and Obi-Wan thinks Waxer does a brilliant job in sizing down the armor to fit their collective padawan over the next few months. Force, had Anakin really been younger than she when he first started taking him on missions?

"Master?"

Obi-Wan blinks, and smiles down at Ahsoka standing next to him, his apprentice looking quite dashing in the orange paint of the 212th. "Sorry, my dear, what were you saying?"

She shrugs, eyeing him suspiciously. "'Was just asking if we would be working with the ARC troopers on Kiros; Captain Fordo said he would show me how to use a blaster rifle next time they were on the Negotiator."

The Kaminoans intended for a few ARC troopers to be sent with each battalion, but it had quickly become clear that Jango had not trained them that way. Instead, he had raised and created a strike team so efficient, it would have been a waste to separate them; Obi-Wan knows Jango had hand-picked them from cadets, had searched for a spark in them that the Kaminoans hadn't already snuffed out completely. Jango had been like that once, too.

"I would be surprised if we didn't," Obi-Wan decides on, turning back to observe the 212th loading into the Negotiator, and he would be, because the ARCs are often deployed with Obi-Wan’s men, have been since the Battle of Kamino. "But I have not heard anything from Master Shaak Ti, nor Captain Fordo as of yet."

Ahsoka scrunches up her face into a pout, an amusing show of her age that she usually does not allow. "We'll probably get halfway through the mission and they'll just show up."

Obi-Wan chuckles. “Hm, yes, probably,” he agrees, starting to make his way down to the hangar to join his men with Ahsoka trotting along behind, “but perhaps I can convince Captain Fordo not to surprise us too badly this time.”

When the ARC troopers finally storm the Kadavo Processing Facility with Anakin and the Jedi on their heels, the warden Agruss is already dead.

The sudden swell of Jedi presence is nearly blinding after a month of helplessness, but Obi-Wan can't tap out, not yet. Rex, satisfied and vindictive and relieved, sways dangerously and automatically reaches out to Obi-Wan to steady himself.

That Rex trusts him enough to not even think about rank before asking for help warms Obi-Wan in ways he doesn't yet have the words for — he wraps Rex's arm around his shoulders and takes half his weight happily.

"Thank you," Obi-Wan finds himself murmuring as he helps Rex towards the doors, and only smiles at the captain's bemused expression.

"Whatever for, General?" he asks, even as he looks back over their shoulders across the room, to Agruss impaled to his chair with the electrostaff still sparking. Then he returns Obi-Wan’s smile, shaking his head. "That's not very Jedi-like of you, sir."

"I'm afraid I haven't felt much a Jedi since Kiros, my dear." Which is perhaps too honest to allow himself before he's had a proper meal and a full night's rest, but if there is anyone who will understand, it is the man that lived it with him. "We could wait up here for Anakin to find us, but it will likely be a while before they can spare him to start looking; do you think you can keep your feet long enough for us to reach the ground floor?"

Rex snorts and gives a vague wave of his free hand towards the elevators. "Well, I'm certainly not going to wait up here like some damsel, sir, and General Skywalker would kill me if I let you wander around on your own."

"Well!" Obi-Wan laughs, for the first time in weeks, and hitches Rex up to get a better grip on his waist. "In that case, we really should not keep him waiting."

They somehow time it perfectly for what the 187th and the 501st to have just finished rounding up the slavers in the courtyard when he and Rex hobble out of a side door of the warden's tower. Lieutenant Law oversees the Togrutas' move to Mace’s flagship Solace, and Obi-Wan easily picks him and Boba out from the crowd, standing at the base of the loading ramp and speaking with the Kiros colony's governor. Anakin is nowhere to be seen, but Obi-Wan doesn't get the chance to keep looking before Kix spots them from his place by the medical frigate; a shout passes over the nearby clones like a wave, until Kix and an ARC trooper break away to (gently) manhandle both him and Rex to the frigate.

The 187th's medic, Oro, is already on board seeing to the Togrutas too injured to wait for triage on the Solace, snapping a distracted salute that Obi-Wan quickly waves off as he helps heft Rex onto a hoverbed. He fully intends to duck back out and check in with Mace, though things seem well in hand without him, but the ARC with Kix takes off his helmet and glares, until Obi-Wan meekly shuffles to the next hoverbed over.

He could never refuse Jango, after all.

"You repainted your armor," he says conversationally, as Jango pulls a scanner from the bandoleer around his chest and has Obi-Wan roll up his right sleeve.

"'Lost the last set to a sarlacc before our deployment to Kiros," Jango snorts, Concord Dawn accent stronger than any of his clones. "Though it looks like your mission had its fair share of excitement." Running the scanner over the electrical burns on Obi-Wan’s arm, Jango raises an eyebrow at the dried blood on the shoulder of his tunics; Obi-Wan honestly doesn't remember if it's his or not.

And he can only smile at Jango, because even with a decade and a war between them, the corner of Jango's mouth still twitches when he's stressed. "Well, it certainly wasn't boring, my dear," Obi-Wan says, opening the neck of his tunic enough for Jango to stick him with a hypospray that hopefully won't make him too high. "And I can't say I'm looking forward to what is surely going to be a long dip in the bacta tank."

He gets a laugh for that, and can't think of the last time they had done more than make eye contact from opposite sides of a ship. Perhaps it had been Kamino, when Taun We had first sent for the Jedi to meet the army created for them.

Obi-Wan had rather thought Jango dead until then, when he had disappeared from the galaxy abruptly as if he had never lived in it at all. For a time, Obi-Wan believed he had just gotten cold feet, that finally meeting Anakin made it all a little too personal too quickly, but then even Mace could not get a hold of him and no one had seen a Mandalorian bounty hunter in months.

Their... conversation, Jango's stilted explanations of his absence and of how little he actually knew about the purpose for the clones he helped create, left far too much unsaid, but then Obi-Wan had been sent to Geonosis and, well. It's been nearly two years now, and Obi-Wan isn't sure if he's even seen Jango without his helmet since then.

His eyes flick over Obi-Wan’s face, the left side of his lips twitching as if knowing exactly what Obi-Wan is thinking — and he might not put it past him.

"Where are Anakin and Ahsoka?" Obi-Wan hears himself ask, when the silence grows heavy with those unsaid words. And he really would like to check in with his padawan, he can't imagine her last month has been a picnic either.

Jango sticks him with another stim before answering, "Mace sent Skywalker to make sure no slave is missed, and no slaver isn't arrested. As for your new foundling..." That little smile comes back, as Jango nods out the back of the frigate to where someone is cutting a line through the clones guarding their new prisoners.

"Oh dear," Obi-Wan mumbles, barely having time to brace himself before Ahsoka is launching herself at him, and all he can think is how relieved he is to see her out of her slave disguise. Jango steps cleanly out of the way to let Ahsoka smother herself in Obi-Wan’s chest, though it doesn’t stop him from starting to prep bacta patches to tide him over until they can get to the Negotiator’s medbay.

“Hello, little one,” Obi-Wan murmurs, carefully loosening the tight net of his shields for the first time since Zygerria and letting Ahsoka’s presence flood his mind.

“It’s good to see you, Master ‘Nobi,” she says into his tunics, and her voice does not waver at all.

He manages a chuckle, though it does not hold nearly as well as Ahsoka’s, as he feels himself finally relax. Anakin, of course, senses the both of them immediately and prods at their minds, but neither Obi-Wan nor his padawan acknowledge him. “I take it the Queen is dead?”

Ahsoka sighs and pulls back enough to nod. “Count Dooku was there, Skyguy barely got us all out.”

“That was a week ago,” Jango adds, not looking up from the datapad he’s logging Obi-Wan’s injuries into. “Even with the Queen giving us the location of the Processing Facility, we had to wait for the 187th to catch up.”

Running his palm from the top of her head down her hind lek, Ahsoka melts back against him with a Togruta churr he rarely has the pleasure of hearing from her. “Hm, and I imagine Boba was thrilled to work with the ARC troopers.”

Jango snorts, because they both know Boba is thirteen and his rebellious stage where he wants nothing to do with his father for fear of losing his independence. “Originally, the 104th was the closest battalion, but were held up in their own campaign. ‘Honestly didn’t think we could keep Skywalker from rushing in anyways.”

And Obi-Wan has to wince at that, because no matter what he does, he can’t seem to find a way to teach Anakin about attachment in words he understands; truthfully, Obi-Wan wouldn’t have had him knighted until he had at least attempted to master that part of his mind, but, well, the War had different opinions.

“I’m actually just surprised he didn’t try to fight Dooku,” Ahsoka admits, finally releasing Obi-Wan only to hop up on the hoverbed next to him. Jango immediately pulls Obi-Wan’s bare arm back to himself to start slapping the bacta patches over the worst of his burns. “Master Windu had a talk with him, though, I think it was good for him.”

“I’d like to see that!” Jango barks, only half sarcastically: he knows better than most, the sorts of things Mace Windu can talk someone out of, and if it worked for one ex-slave, why shouldn’t it work on another?

Ah, perhaps that shared history should not have slipped Obi-Wan’s mind, not here with thousands of freed slaves needing aid for injuries Jango is intimately familiar with.

“And are you alright?” he asks before he can talk himself out of it, as Jango is cutting his sleeve further back. His brow ticks back up, clearly bewildered by what Obi-Wan could be referring to, but it’s Ahsoka that leans around Obi-Wan to sniff triumphantly up at Jango.

“I told you he still likes you,” she says, and Jango’s hand freezes on Obi-Wan’s wrist.

Obi-Wan sighs. “Ahsoka.”

But instead of denying that he might have actually had such a conversation with Obi-Wan’s padawan, Jango coughs on a laugh. “So you did, edee. To be fair, I did not think that was the issue.”

Ahsoka rolls her eyes, leaning back into Obi-Wan’s side as he automatically raises his arm to accommodate her. “He thinks he lost his chance, Master ‘Nobi,” she tells him. “Even Cody thinks he’s full of banthashit.”

Where Obi-Wan feels a little shell-shocked by the turn in conversation, Jango simply keeps that tiny smile — even if it looks bittersweet and self-deprecating now. “Your foundling has spent the last week talking me in circles about this, I almost think she’s as stubborn as you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, I think,” Obi-Wan returns, sarcasm an automatic, subconscious response.

“I wouldn’t need to talk you in circles if you two just talked to each other.”

Shaking his head in bemusement, Obi-Wan gently fixes Ahsoka’s slika beads to lay properly around her montrals. “I’m afraid there’s quite a lot of history there, little one; most of which I’m sure Jango did not actually share with you.”

She wrinkles her nose. “No, he refuses to tell me anything except that you met on a mission. And that he saved your ass from Jabba the Hutt.”

Obi-Wan snaps his eyes to Jango, who looks absolutely anywhere but at him. “Is that how you remember it going, my dear?”

“Could we do this later?”

“Because if I recall correctly, and I do, this is not the first time you’ve lost your armor to a sarlacc.”

Jango looks to the ceiling for patience.

Mando'a: buir — “parent”, gender neutral Mand’alor — “Sole ruler”, contended ruler of Mandalore. edee — “teeth”, “jaws”, used here as an affectionate name for Ahsoka. because she teeth.

#thinking about opening the ask box again but keeping anon off #i miss y’all ꒰๑·̥﹏·̥๑꒱#WHY DO I KEEP WRITING 3000 WORD PROMPT FILLS #well i mean it’s cause i don’t want it to seem slapdash or not thought out and i always have so much plot #but it’d still be nice to not put my chaptered fics on the backburner ‘cause i can’t multitask between them T0T #prompt fill #crispy writes #jangobi #jango fett #obi wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #captain rex #prequel trilogy #au #force sensitive boba #alternate events at and post galidraan #medic jango #clone oc #oro is mine (ノ*´▽`)#real talk tho #i’m super fucked up about everything happening with achievement hunter right now #it’s been a rough couple of days #i hope you’re all safe and healthy and taking care of each other #believe victims not abusers #hashtag crispy stop tagging so much

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beholdme · 3 years

Text

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 13

Chapters: 13/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can’t help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12]

If someone had asked Martin where he had least expected to be on the day after his thirtieth birthday, the veterinarian probably wouldn’t have been at the top of his list, but it definitely would have made the top ten.

Honestly, Martin didn’t think he had ever stepped foot into a vet clinic before in his life. He had never owned so much as a pet hamster, and now here he stood, clutching a tiny ball of mewling fluff and trying not to get distracted by the pet toys.

He felt positively inundated with new information on all sides. There were about a million different types of pet food lining the walls, and everything seemed to be a new bright colour to draw his distracted eyes. Warning signs that made very little sense to him filled the space, most memorably ‘Large birds must be kept leashed at all times inside the practice’, and ‘Reptiles need to be secured inside their travel enclosures.’

There was indeed an iguana in a massive glass enclosure sunning itself under a heat lamp, but it appeared to be a permanent resident, not a guest. Seemingly opposite to this was the massive tabby cat draped across the reception desk.

Martin begins to panic slightly.

He desperately wished he had allowed one of his lovers to accompany him, but he had sent Gerry back to bed to sleep and Jon had been shooed off to work, both quite thoroughly hung-over.

Now here he stands, alone with his new fluffy friend, and doesn't even know where to start. Neither of his partners have ever actually had a kitten before, but at least they had both owned cats before.

Gerry had been adopted by Saturn as a full-grown boy when he arrived at the window of his shitty little flat in Edinburgh and demanded to be let in. Gerry had confessed to a romantic feeling of instant affection for the fluffy beast and had taken Saturn in without a moment’s hesitation. They had moved together as he traveled the country, eventually settling together in London, where he had found Jon again.

Jon had been raised with several cats that had all been born before him and had liked them, but he had told Martin once that he heavily associated cats with his Grandmother and his slightly cold upbringing. That was all the pet experience he had until he met Saturn and fell in love with him as easily as they’d both fallen in love with Gerry. Like goth, like feline companion, apparently.

Nevertheless, Saturn did not appreciate being taken to the vet and had never gone once since Martin had met him.

"Can I help you, sir?" A kind-looking older lady sat at reception, and she beaconed Martin forward gently.

"I- I-" He started, stuttering badly. He closed his eyes and shook himself to dispel the unfortunate remnant of his childhood. “I found this kitten, and I was hoping the vet could check on it for me?”

“And will you be wanting to surrender it into our care?” She asks, tapping away at her keyboard.

“What?” Martin shies away, pulling the cat protectively even closer to his chest.

“You’re more than welcome to keep it, but we do also take in strays if you aren’t able to.” She smiles at him soothingly.

“Oh, I want to keep her please.” Martin flushes a bit. “I already gave her a name.”

The woman smiles at him knowingly. “The vet can see you in 15 minutes then.”

She takes his contact information, and they weigh Martin’s new friend. She guesses the kitten's age to be about 2 weeks and sends him off to sit close to the iguana.

An hour later, Martin stumbles out the door, armed with more supplies than he could ever have imagined he needed to raise one small animal. His head is spinning, alternating between fond adoration and complete anxiety over this new task that he has given himself. Luna meows at him supportively, happy to be clean and have a full belly.

Out on the street, he finds Jon. It’s raining slightly, and he’s wrapped in a long peacoat, with a scarf Martin is certain was once his.

“What are you doing here?” Martin demands, shocked. He stumbles over to his partner, and Jon reaches out to steady him. “I thought you were at the library."

Jon presses a quick kiss to his shocked mouth, before taking several things out of his overcrowded arms.

"I know you said that you were going to do this on your own, but I wanted to be nearby in case you needed me, so I called off." He shrugs a bit, "I reckoned that I had earned it, what with all the overtime I work and don't get paid for."

Martin is filled with warmth, eyes welling a bit. "Oh, Jon."

"Oh no, don't cry. I'm sorry." Jon's face pinches in concern. "I can go if you want me to."

"No, I'm so happy you're here. I was just wishing for you, and there you were. Thank you." Martin steps towards him as best he can, and they kiss softly for a few moments, out in the rain.

In time, the kitten, haphazardly clutched to Martin's chest, makes her displeasure at the soggy conditions known. Gripping hands tightly, Jon and Martin set off towards the bookstore, just a couple blocks over.

It’s quiet when they arrive, the morning pre-work rush over, and the student and lunch crowds far off yet. The two baristas and Tim descend upon them immediately when they see the small head poking out of Martin’s coat. There is much cooing and fuss over Luna, and Martin recounts the tale of discovering her in the back alley of Gerry’s bar.

Once they return to work, Jon and Martin settle on one of the sofas, a coffee table before them. They make up a small cat bed, which Luna explores for a few moments, before sitting at the edge and staring at Martin imploringly. He scopes her up and plops her inside, before placing the tiny bed right in his lap. She happily passes out after that, the wild adventures of the morning catching up with her little kitten body.

Deciding to truly have the day off, Jon does not take out his laptop and start working on it, instead ordering their tea, picking a book to read from the store, and bringing it all over to settle with his partner.

“Thank you for coming,” Martin tells him, a soft look on his face. He leans an elbow on the back of the couch, head resting on his fist. “I didn’t even realise how much I needed you until I saw you there.”

“I know,” Jon starts, frowning in concentration, “that I’m not always the best at sensing these things, that sometimes I can be too focused on myself and the things going on in my head. I do hope that I always manage to catch the important moments, and I trust that you’ll always let me know when I don’t.”

Jon pauses, and sighs, a self-deprecating smile lining his face. He continues, “I want to learn to be who you need me to be. I want to be for you, what you always are to me. I love you, Martin.”

“I love you too, Jon.” Martin squeezes Jon’s hand, before placing a sweet kiss in his palm. “You are exactly who I need you to be.”

It is a soft, hazy sort of day. The rain pours outside, and Jon lies against Martin and reads two books before lunchtime. Martin practices bottle-feeding Luna, every few hours, and Jon sits nearby watching nervously. He wonders vaguely if his partner is alarmed to be around an infant of any kind for a while, but on the third feeding, Jon seems to rouse himself and offers to give it a try.

Each time a new client comes in, there's a round of cooing and petting, and Martin worries that she’ll be spoiled rotten in no time. He imagines that if she spends much time here, he’ll have to sell cat treats and Luna will one day be as fat as a house.

At one point, Jon starts to read aloud, and Martin seems to fall asleep gently propped against his shoulder. He wakes to find Jon laughing softly and Luna learning to use him as a climbing frame.

"I think she likes you, love," Martin whispers into his hair.

"Well, I think I might like her too," Jon confesses, a world away from his scepticism of just this morning.

After lunchtime, Gerry flies into the store very manically, clutching a very strange backpack to his chest. It has a weird clear window, reminiscent of a ship’s porthole, and the rest of it is hard structured plastic.

He ducks down to kiss first Martin, then Jon, before thrusting the backpack into Martin's hands.

"What is this?" Martin asks, holding it away from himself as if it might bite.

"It's a cat backpack. Saturn has always preferred it to a normal cat basket, and I thought it might be useful if we need to take her to work with us and then back to various flats." Gerry walks around the table, bodily picking up Jon's legs and sitting beneath them. He looks like nothing so much as a large, damp bat, black trench coat flapping around him like over large wings. "I ordered her one of her own, but it won't be here for a few days, so I brought Saturn's in the meantime."

There's a beat of shocked silence, so Gerry adds, "Only if you want it, obviously."

"I- I do, thank you." Martin can feel himself blushing with odd pleasure.

He had made sure to ask them if they were okay with Martin keeping Luna, but he hadn't really expected them to embrace the situation with such gusto, and his heart burns with an odd intensity at their gestures of support.

It's almost-

It's almost like they love him, and care about all the things he cares about.

Martin sits, staring at a cat backpack, and allows the realisation to wash over him. It hits him like a tidal wave, despite the dozens and maybe hundreds of times they've said the words to him.

He feels very foolish, left floored by the fact that his lovers- well, that they love him!

Martin knows, understands even, that he has been left slightly broken by his father leaving, his mother hating him, the things that he chose to do to survive in his early adulthood. He does understand that, and yet he never realized that he was hearing Jon and Gerry say they love him and saying the words back, and yet subtly holding on to the (clearly mistaken) understanding that they don't really mean them.

It makes a sick kind of sense, clinging to the idea that they don't really care about him, so when they decide that they don't anymore, it doesn't leave him broken beyond repair.

Martin puts the cat bag down on the table, hands Luna to Gerry, and gets up. He waves at them reassuringly when they try to ask him what's wrong, before walking to the bathroom, locking the door, and sobbing like a child for several long moments.

As Luna grows, she spends time with each of them.

Gerry takes her most of the first nights, feeding her through the evenings and then handing her back to Martin as he leaves for the bookstore.

This means she spends quite a lot of her formative life in a bar, but when Martin goes in to check on them, he finds Gerry's plastered clientele just as enamored with the kitten as his own tea-drinking patrons.

Jon likes to have her in the late afternoons, keeping her at the library for a few sleepy hours before he leaves for the day. He tells Martin once that the children's reading group comes in during that time, and he likes to sit in with them and let Luna listen along.

The children, of course, adore her and Jon tells Martin very primly, "Listening comprehension is a very important skill in a developing infant."

Martin finds it hilarious and adorable and can't help but pull Jon into his arms and kiss him breathless, an unimpressed Luna trapped between them.

Saturn does not appreciate Luna at first, disappearing in a huff the first few times Martin brings her over to the studio.

"Don't worry about it, love." Gerry had waved away his concern casually. "He's just a jealous baby. He'll figure out that she wants to play with him eventually, and then they'll be the best of friends."

Indeed, Martin walks into the kitchen one morning to find the two cats curled together in a shaft of sunshine. Saturn is gently giving her a bath, and Luna purrs sweetly at the attention.

When Saturn notices him watching, he untangles himself, shows Martin his bum, and then disappears. He's reminded of nothing so much as Gerry himself, caught eating ice cream for breakfast, or smoking during the day, an activity he would insist is a nighttime pursuit only. The same drama is employed as a distraction technique, and Martin wonders whether the cat learnt it from the goth, or the goth learnt it from the cat.

Luna grows and settles, and Martin adores having her more than almost anything.

He takes the time, as they raise her, to force himself to accept his life for what it truly is. He puts aside the constant nagging fear that Jon and Gerry will lose interest in him one day and begins to notice all the ways they show him they love him, which makes the words all the more precious to him when they take the time to tell him.

#the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #gerry keay #jongerrymartin #fic #also on ao3

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enchantedbride · 4 years

Text

A Ballad of Brimstone.02 (1/2)

<02. But Let Me Go Back to the Start> (1/2)

Tagging: @curiousobsession101, @goldenworldsabound, @foreveryours-mouse, @juliannos

Warning(s): Brief Profanity, Discussions of Being Kidnapped

A/N: If you like me to tag you in my Obey Me or other Self-ship writings, let me know!

As mentioned in the previous installment, this series of ficlets will be jumping around timeline wise. While the first one offers a glimpse into the future, we now go back to the day Joey was summoned to the Devildom to take part in the exchange program.

Due to how long this wound up being I wound up splitting this into two parts, this is part one of two!

She had slipped into a dark slumber that night. Her mind was held by dreams she wouldn’t remember when she awoke in the morning. But, she would remember the sound of soft, beckoning whispers. In the midst of her dreams, they didn’t seem out of place, almost blending into the surreal sensations he mind conjured.

“Come,” they said. “Come this way. Come to us, into the dark below.”

It was like a round, but the words were spoken rather than sung.

Joey felt a sudden, sharp feeling of hesitation that broke through the murkiness of her dreams. But, in response the whispers became more insistent, and she felt the vague sensation of being pulled away. But to where, she didn’t have the awareness to question.

“You must come. Your fate has been decreed.”

Weakly, she tried to pull back against what was pulling her. At first she stopped, but then a more forceful tug overpowered her.

“Come this way,” the whispers insisted once more. “Come... come...”

It started to feel almost like she was falling. Or perhaps she was floating? It was hard for her to tell the difference. She felt the sensation of cloth and hair fluttering, and then-

A high-pitched voice severed the hold of sleep on her.

“She’s waking up. Everyone stand back and let Mister Barbatos through!”

The next thing she sensed was the feeling of pain and throbbing in her temples. Then, she felt the surface underneath her was harder than she remembered her bed being. Joey let out a groan as she slowly opened her eyes.

“Ow...”

The soft light of what appeared to be distant lamps came into view, only to briefly be obscured by a round, inky silhouette. But, as her brows knit and she attempted to understand what she was seeing, she made out the shape of a pair of small, dark blue eyes looking at her before they disappeared. A moment later, the silhouette was gone.

“It looks like she had a rough ride, sir.”

“So it seems,” a voice lower in tone replied to the high-pitched one she heard first. “Lord Diavolo’s suspicions and mine were correct, it appears. Truly extraordinary for a human who appears to have no magic potential.”

Joey turned her head towards the voices, putting her hands to her temples as she attempted to soothe her headache with gentle circular motions. She saw what appeared to be a man in a suit kneeling down in front of her.

“Please try not to move just yet.”

“O-okay.” Joey didn’t move from where she was or change her position, but she kept her fingers to her head. “Sorry, my head really hurts.” What’s going on here? Am I still dreaming?

“No need to apologize,” he assured her. “Here, take your hands away for a moment.”

She complied, resting her hands on either side of her. She felt...was it stone underneath her? It was also at that moment Joey recognized an array of other noises in the background. She could hear the flow of water, the soft pattering of feet, and the distant caw of crows.

“I’m going to touch your forehead,” he explained. “Is that alright?”

“Yeah.” Is he going to check me for a fever?

Joey felt him gently press the tips of his fingers to her forehead, and whisper something she couldn’t quite make out. No, I don’t think this is a dream. This feels too stable to not be real. But then, why am I not in my bed? Where am I? ...Ah! Suddenly, she felt the throbbing pain begin to subside.

“There. Does that feel better?”

“Yes, I’m starting to feel better!” Joey replied. But then she blinked in surprise. “Did you do that? If so, thank you!”

“Indeed,” he confirmed. “I used a minor incantation to ease your pain. It was no trouble.”

“Incantation?” Joey asked. “As in...? You used magic? Real magic?” Or maybe I am dreaming after all?

“Yes,” the man answered her without hesitation. “I take it you’re not the sort of person who believes in magic?”

“Well...” Joey however, did hesitate. “I’ve always wanted to believe there was magic. But I’ve never really seen it. Or... recognized it, I guess.”

“I see. I’m afraid you may have a hard time accepting your current set of circumstances then.”

“You mean, where I am and what’s going on?”

“Precisely.” The man withdrew his hand from her slightly, moving to offer it to her. “Do you think you can stand? If so, try to get up slowly. You can use my hand for support if you’d like.”

“I think so.” Joey pressed her hands to the ground for a moment to help herself sit up. She then took him up on his offer, taking the offered hand to use as leverage to carefully bring herself to her feet. She took a breath for a moment, closing her eyes and opening them again to better take in her surroundings.

“Who are you?” It appeared to be nighttime. The sky was dark with distant stars offering little in the way of light. But there were lamps close by more clearly illuminating stone walkways. They went every which way around a fountain and a bed of flowers that wrapped around it. Though the flowers were nothing like anything Joey recognized.

The air also carried with it smells she didn’t recognize either.

“Ah, of course. I should introduce myself. My name is Barbatos,” said the man. “I believe I already know who you are, however. Your name is Joey Andews, correct?”

“Yes, my name is Joey. But, how do you already know my name?” As if things weren’t already weird enough, she thought.

Barbatos simply smiled. “I’m afraid that will require me first to answer your original questions about what’s happening and where you are. Allow me to start with the latter.” He paused for a moment, looking away from her. Joey followed it and realized that eventually the walkways all went into a large building that surrounded them on all sides.

A courtyard of some kind? Joey wondered. She turned her attention back to him and nodded.

“You’re in a place called the Devildom,” explained Barbatos. “It is the realm of Demonkind, ruled by the Demon King in name. Although my master, his son and heir Prince Diavolo has been governing the realm for some time.” He paused, looking back at her. “It was his wish and his will that brought you here.”

Bewilderment spread across Joey’s face. There was also a knot of fear beginning to form in the pit of her stomach. “The land of Demonkind? Where I come from the name for where demons live is...”

“Hell?” Barbatos cut in to predict the end of her thought. “The realm that sinful and evil human’s souls are banished to in death? Oh, that’s certainly part of it, but there’s more to our realm than most humans speak of to one another.”

Joey felt the instinctive need to take a step back, but she restrained herself. “Okay, so I’m in the realm of Demons. And Prince Diavolo brought me here. Have I got the story straight so far?”

“Indeed you do,” Barbatos confirmed. “Unfortunately there was a bit of a mishap in trying to get you here. You have quite the strong will it seems, Miss Andrews.” At this he laughed. “You resisted my master’s call to the point that you went off course and wound up a bit further away then where you were supposed to appear. But, I was sent to fetch you and guide you to where Lord Diavolo is at present.”

My dream... “I-I see.” But what would a prince of demons want with me? What’s going to happen to me!?

“Your willpower will serve you well here. You may not have magic to protect you, but you have that, at least.” He remarked. “But, I digress. Lord Diavolo has summoned you here to assist him with an undertaking of his- an exchange program between the realms of demons, humans, and angels.”

“An exchange program...?” Joey questioned him. “You make it sound like he intends me to be a student in a school down here.” She of course was joking. Surely he meant something else.

Barbatos laughed once more. “Actually, that’s precisely what he intends.” He turned away again. “We are currently in the courtyard of the Royal Diavolo Academy, or RAD for short as it’s often called. I would say it most closely resembles a university or other similar institutions you may find in the human world,” he explained. “My master founded the school long ago, but he is also enrolled here as a student and serves as President of the Student Council. He is forever trying to improve himself and the Devildom, and thus is forever on a quest to learn, and encourage others to do the same.”

“That’s... quite an admirable thing.” Joey found herself struggling to word what she wanted to say. “So, I’m to be a student at this Royal Diavolo Academy?”

“Exactly.” Barbatos nodded. “You will be joined by two other humans like yourself and three Angels who hail from the Celestial Realm. We’ve sent three of our own to the Celestial Realm, and another three to the Human world to attend schools there for the duration of the exchange, which will be a year on Earth.

“My master’s hope is to foster understanding and respect among angels, humans, and demons, and bring a peace between the realms not seen before. It truly is an ambitious project, I must admit.”

“No kidding!” Joey blinked, face shifting between expressions as she attempted to process everything she was being told. “If what little I know of demons and angels has taught me anything, is peace between them and humans is not an easy thing to achieve. Most people believe it’s impossible.”

“Many angels and demons believe that as well,” Barbatos noted. “But my lord believes otherwise. And, I am certain it lies within the realm of possibility.”

“So then...” Certain pieces began to fall together in her mind. “Was I specifically chosen for this? It wasn’t random or anything? Is that why you know my name?”

“Well... there was an element of randomness to the selection. You were chosen from among many other humans we had information on. But you were specifically chosen from among them, and it is indeed why I know your name.”

Joey thought for a moment. “I think I get the gist of what you're telling me so far,” she said. “But, I’m also wary. And I want to know if I’m allowed to turn this down and ask to be sent home.”

At this Barbatos sighed. “Your wariness is not unwarranted. As to whether you can refuse... you may certainly voice it, but I’m not sure it will be granted. When Lord Diavolo has his mind set on something, it is hard to get him to change course, even if he already has doubts about what he’s doing.That and well... he’s very much used to getting his way, being the Prince of Demons.”

After a moment, Joey raised an eyebrow. One thing was now abundantly clear, and she felt it needed to be said.

“So basically what you’re telling me is I’ve been kidnapped.”

Barbatos fell silent, his brow furrowing as he put his hand to his chin. Joey wasn’t an excellent judge when it came to reading the expressions of others. But were she to take a guess, he was considering what he said next carefully.

This can’t be happening! She screamed internally. You’re telling me demons, angels, and magic are all real. You’re telling me I’ve been snatched by demons to attend what’s basically demon college for... a year he said? This is just... unbelievable! You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!

“I won’t pretend it is otherwise,” Barbatos finally spoke. “I imagine this is a lot for you to take in. And further still, it must be frightening to be here without prior knowledge and against your will. I doubt you can persuade my master to let you leave and choose another to replace you. You can try if you so like, but I suspect it will prove futile. I can offer you little assurance but this: Diavolo is a demon of honesty. He can tell if anyone is lying, but more importantly to you at this moment, he also never lies. He has made it clear he only intends for the exchange students to attend for a year, and when that year is over, you will be free to go. He will honor his word.”

Joey raised an eyebrow, causing Barbatos to sigh. “I’m sorry I just... I’d certainly like to believe that’s the case. But, it’s kind of hard to be trusting right now given that I was brought here without my consent. And I don’t know you or your master,” said Joey. “But... I do appreciate your attempt to reassure me nonetheless.”

“I’m afraid it’s all I can offer you, Miss Andrews.” Barbatos replied regretfully. “Well... that and perhaps fetching you a change of clothes. I don’t think it would be best to have your first audience with the Prince of Demons in your nightgown.”

“I...” Joey looked down at herself a moment. “Yeah, I suppose that might not be such a bad idea.”

Barbatos smiled, chuckling softly before he became serious once more. “All things considered, I think you’re being rather restrained in your anger about this. And at least somewhat willing to give the benefit of the doubt in spite of your anger.”

“Yeah well...” I’ve just been conditioned to lose my shit internally instead of externally, thanks for noticing. “I’ve always been pretty good at rolling with the punches so to speak.”

“I see.” Barbatos offered a hand. “Well, why don’t we get you changed? I’ll escort you to the assembly hall after.” Joey nodded and took his hand following him down one of the walkways. She noticed Barbatos turn his head and nod to a small shadow with eyes before it faded into the darkness a moment later. She then remembered the silhouette she saw when she first awoke. Another demon? Perhaps a helper to Barbatos, maybe?

This is insane! How do I know I can even trust any of this? How do I know they aren’t just going to… I don’t know, eat me or trap my soul in eternal torment? It seemed all she could really do for now was follow Barbatos and have her audience with his master. Part of her hoped this really was a dream of sorts and that soon she would wake up.

Barbatos took Joey to another part of the building, bringing her into an empty room. A few moments passed in silence between the two before the door opened. A round little creature came scurrying in, and Joey recognized from their eyes that it was the little demon she’d seen before. The demon carried a neatly folded pile of clothing and a hair brush above their head, kneeling down as they presented the pile to Barbatos.

She was then handed the pile and left to herself in the empty room in order to get changed and tidied up. But, as she did so, Joey stayed close to the door, faintly hearing the sound of a phone ringing from just outside. She tried her best to listen in, while also navigating the garments she had been given.

“Apologies, my lord. We will be a little later than expected. It seems she was in nightclothes when she arrived. She’s been given a change of clothes and once she’s dressed and given a chance to tidy up we’ll head down to the assembly hall.”

He’s talking to Prince Diavolo. There was a brief pause, presumably in which there was a reply given.

“I deeply appreciate your patience and good humor in this matter. I promise we’ll be there soon,” said Barbatos. “Miss Andrews is understandably wary and skeptical. But, she’s… surprisingly more composed than I would have expected.” Another pause, but briefer this time. “Has the meeting with the other exchange student already concluded then? … I see. So Mammon is already on his way with her back to the House of Lamentation.”

Joey didn’t take too long to finish dressing herself, smoothing out the wrinkles in the simple dress she was given and tapping the heels of the shoes that came with it. She then quickly brushed her hair and tidied herself up a bit, taking a deep breath before turning the knob of the door to let Barbatos know she was changed and ready. The little demon was outside as well, and took the brush from her before scurrying off into the shadows again.

Barbatos nodded and began to guide her again down the halls of the academy. The interior had an antique, stately feeling to it in terms of aesthetics. But things seemed too spacious for Joey’s personal liking. And shadows seemed to stretch far across the floor.

Eventually they came down a long hallway that seemed to go for some distance. As they walked, Joey could swear she heard the soft sound of sniffling up ahead. Was someone crying? There was also the patter of footsteps that didn’t belong to her or Barbatos.

From behind the corner she saw what appeared to be a man and a woman passing the opposite way. The man seemed to wear a black uniform with his shirt and tie askew, while the woman was dressed in a pair of blue jeans with a baggy t-shirt and tennis shoes.

Once they got closer, it became clear where the source of the sniffling Joey heard before came from. The woman was attempting to rub tears from her eyes and compose herself. Wait… could this be the other exchange student and Mammon that Barbatos spoke of over the phone? I guess they haven’t actually left just yet.

God, she must be so scared.

Joey stopped and attempted to cross to where they were. “Hold on just a sec,” She requested of Barbatos before quickly switching her attention. She couldn’t do much about her situation, but maybe she could at least comfort her fellow captive.

“Excuse me!” Joey called out, returning to a normal tone of voice when she was close enough. “Ma’am, are you alright?”

“Huh?” The man whom she presumed was Mammon noticed her approach and turned around to face her. But, only a moment later he also noticed Barbatos waiting for Joey not too far away. “Barbatos!” He then briefly turned his attention back to Joey. “I guess that means you must be the other human.” He looked back at the woman accompanying him, his brow furrowing. “As if it wasn’t already bad enough I got saddled with babysitting duty.”

Joey registered him addressing her, but continued to approach the other woman. When she didn’t seem to respond to him, the man blocked her path, a clearly annoyed expression on his face.

“Hey! I was talking to you. Show some proper respect for the Great Mammon, human!”

Joey stopped, briefly looking apologetic. So she was right. “Sorry about that. Yeah, I’m the other human exchange student.… I saw my fellow exchange student in distress and I wanted to help them.” She took a split second to think more on what he said and had an idea. I need to convince him to be more favorable so he’ll let me talk. “Again though, you have my apologies, oh great one.”

“Now that’s more like it!” Mammon smiled approvingly. But it was quickly replaced by a frown. “Look, I’m under orders from my older brother Lucifer to take your fellow human back to where the two of you will be staying. If I dawdle for too long he might think I’m slacking off.” He shook his head. “Not that I’m scared of him or anything! Just don’t want anymore trouble than I’m already dealing with. I can’t let you two stay and chat, we need to keep moving.”

“You can’t even spare a minute?” Joey tried to fumble for an excuse he might buy. “I mean, if you’ve got a lot on your plate, having a sniffling human must be grating on your nerves right? Well, if you give me a couple of minutes to talk to her and she calms a bit it’ll be one less thing, right?”

A moment passed. Mammon shook his head, looking back and forth between the two humans. The other woman looked to Joey hopefully.

“You’ve got two minutes,” Mammon finally decided. “But I’m not giving you any more. Make it quick, human.”

Joey nodded. “Thank you so much! I appreciate this.” She walked passed up to the woman, not noticing Mammon’s awkward body language or hearing his muttered ‘yeah yeah whatever’ under his breath.

The other woman pulled her hand away from her face and looked over to Joey. “H-Hi….”

“Hi,” Joey greeted her, a sympathetic expression forming on her face. “My name is Joey. What’s yours?”

“I’m… I’m Katherine, but I usually go by Kat,” she replied. “Are… are you okay? I heard them say you ended up somewhere you weren’t supposed to.”

“Me? Oh, nothing too major. I’m not hurt or anything. Just a bit, well, out of sorts to put it mildly.” Joey huffed. “I’ll be fine. I wanted to see how YOU were doing.”

“I’m terrified!” Kat explained without reservation. “I’ve been taken away from my home! And they won’t let me go back no matter how much I plead. It’s not fair!”

Joey shook her head. “You’re right, it’s not. It sounds like you were taken here against your will too. I’m really sorry. It’s not right. But, unfortunately it doesn’t seem we can do much about that right now. It sucks, but that’s the truth of it.” Joey tried to think quickly before Mammon would insist on her and Kat parting ways. “Hey, is there anything you like to do when you’re stressed out? Or maybe a favorite drink or food you like that’s calming for you?”

“Well…” She thought for a moment. “Mostly I like to go for a run by myself or practice playing my cello. I don’t have my cello though and I don’t think they’d let me go for a run by myself.”

“I see,” Joey replied. “Anything else?”

“I also… sometimes take hot baths. Especially when it’s been cold out.”

“That might work! If it’s possible, when you get to where you’re going to be staying, maybe you can try and take a hot bath as soon as you can? It’s not much but maybe it might help, even just a little.”

“I don’t know,” Kat hesitated. “It just feels like everything is just crazy.”

“Completely understandable,” Joey answered sympathetically. “But maybe giving yourself a little comfort and a chance to destress a bit might help you to think and come down from a state of panic. Maybe there’s not a lot you can do right now, but you can do that, right?”

Kat paused briefly. “I guess so,” she said with a sigh. “Alright. I’ll feel worse if I don’t do anything at all, so I might as well.” She turned her gaze away and then back. “Thank you. For trying to help, I mean.”

I couldn’t just sit by and do nothing, thought Joey.

Kat turned to Mammon. “Sorry for holding things up. I’m ready to go now.” Mammon nodded and started walking, Kat following after him.

“Alright, let’s go!” He answered. “Don’t fall too far behind me, human. It’s my job to keep an eye on you and I don’t want to get blamed if something happens to you.”

Joey was unsure of her true impact on things. But at least now her mind would be at ease knowing she at least tried. But, thanks to the conversation, something else was also on her mind. Kat pleaded to be sent home and she was refused. I guess if she couldn’t convince them my luck might not be so good either. I guess I really should be prepared to be stuck here for a year.

“That was a very brave thing you did,” Barbatos remarked. “Especially considering who you were talking to.”

“You mean Kat? Or Mammon?” Joey asked, confused for a moment. She walked back to Barbatos, waiting for him to start their trek to the assembly hall again.

“I was referring to Mammon in this case,” Barbatos clarified. “He may not look like it as he is now. But, he is a very powerful demon. Among the most powerful in fact.”

Joey blinked looking back in surprise. “Wow, seriously?”

“All members of the Student Council are high ranking demons. Currently, the council includes Prince Diavolo, his right hand, Lucifer, and Lucifer’s six brothers.” Barbatos began to walk, Joey following in step alongside him this time. “Lucifer and his brothers are the avatars of the seven deadly sins, not demons any human should approach too casually under most circumstances. Mammon is the eldest brother after Lucifer and the Avatar of Greed.”

Joey’s eyes widened. “So Mammon’s got some serious weight to throw around.” I guess I really lucked out in managing to flatter my way into trying to help Kat.

“Yes.”

“I’m not so sure that makes me brave,” she replied to Barbatos.

“Would you have ignored your instinct to try and help your fellow human if you knew who it was you were dealing with?”

“Well,” Joey barely paused to give her answer. “No, not really. I might have been more nervous and pessimistic about my chances of persuading him. But, I still would have tried for her sake.”

“Then your actions are no less brave, Miss Andrews,” Barbatos said with a smile. “Now, if you’ll come with me this way, we are nearly at the assembly hall.”

Joey nodded, and attempted to keep pace with Barbatos down a winding and even more spacious hallway. Eventually they came upon a large set of metal doors, with ornate decorations embossed into them. If Joey were to take a guess, this was it. The assembly hall. She followed right up to the doors. And then, Barbartos reached out, pulling on the handle.

“Wait one moment. I need to speak with my lord for a moment. But then, you may enter the assembly hall.”

Indeed he went inside and was gone for maybe a minute or two. She could hear voices but they were muffled from this side of the door. Eventually, Barbatos came back out, pulling the door open and stepping aside for Joey to walk through.

“Right this way.”

Joey began to make her way inside, but not before turning to Barbartos.

“Thanks for helping me get here, and for explaining everything you did Barbatos. I’d be pretty terrified and lost right now otherwise.” I’m still pretty terrified to be honest. But at least I know what I’m dealing with.

“It was no trouble, and it was my express duty to assist you as per my lord’s orders. But, your thanks is appreciated. I wish you the best of luck, whatever your fate may be.”

With that, Joey stepped inside and Barbatos closed the door behind her.

#tales of a magus (fanfiction)#verse (into the dark and back: obey me)#modern persephone (obey me!joey)

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notsugarandspice · 6 years

Text

Let’s Talk About Parks

Parks & Rec AU!

This one is mega fun to write. Thank you to wonderful Mal @sagansrecord (a fellow Parks & Rec enthusiast) for helping me with the choice of characters. I initially wrote it differently about a month ago, but I wasn’t happy with the personalities and decided to switch things around.

(THIS FIC FEATURES ALL THE LOSERS AND SEVERAL STRANGER THINGS CHARACTERS. IT’S NOT CENTRAL TO ANY SHIPS, BUT THE MAIN ONES ARE GOING TO BE STANLON AND REDDIE)

Read it on AO3.

CHAPTER 1: THE PIT

“Lucas, how many people are here exactly?"

"Obviously not enough to fill this auditorium. What were you thinking anyway?"

Mike couldn't believe that anyone showed up. It was his very first Community Outreach Public Forum. Sure, he has attended some before, but he was too young to lead one until now. Since he now had access to that responsibility, Mike was just grateful to have someone there with him. Willingly, or not.

He liked Lucas, he really did, but the guy could be a little... self-centered. And Mike thought he seemed too disinterested for someone who's working in a Parks and Recreation department. I mean, it's not fucking Washington, but it’s a government job nonetheless. Lucas should be grateful. Jim finally asked him to run the meeting, and whether Lucas liked it or not, he was going to help out.

Emerson Elementary School seemed larger when you had to speak in front of dozens of people. But it's all good. I love my job, I love my job, I love my job.

"Thank you so much for coming! What an amazing turnout," said Mike, speaking breathily but enthusiastically into the microphone. His old suit hugged the shoulders too tightly, and Mike instantly wished he was curled up in his office chair, doing the overnight paperwork.

Lucas was sitting on the chair next to him, slumped so much that his feet almost dangled off the stage.

"My name is-"

Mike didn't get to finish introducing himself because, all of a sudden, the lights went off and the auditorium turned pitch black apart from the light coming through the small window at the exit door. Without hesitation and before anyone had the chance to bolt, Mike nudged Lucas’ shoulder, and the other rolled his eyes in understanding.

They changed the location to a small classroom on the other side of the building, cramming a couple of dozen people in the small space. But Mike was content. I'm having my Outreach meeting, dammit.

"I'm Mike Hanlon, and with me is department member Lucas Sinclair,” said Mike and nudged the other in the arm. Lucas weakly waved and stayed slumped in his seat.

"We are here to answer all of your questions," said Mike enthusiastically, fidgeting his polished shoes on the floor from anticipation.

A grey-haired male stood up swiftly. "Well, it's a great day, because last month they put me in jail." The room grew dead silent, and everyone looked left and right. What the actual FUCK.

"That's right! The head of the police is a ninth degree asshat-"

It didn't end there.

"STOP THE GRAFFITI, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD-"

Mike sighed heavily. "Sir, I don't like obscenities in front of children either-"

"Look, I've got my three-year-old, and we're going through the park, and someone's like 'Hey, dick! Suck my cock!' and the other guy goes 'You suck my cock, you dickhead!"

Lucas’ stifled snickers were bouncing off the walls of the small room.

Michael, they just LOUDLY care about their community. In and out. In. And. Out.

"Alright, does anyone else who hasn't spoken yet want to voice their concern?" asked Mike, interrupting the ex-con who was about to start yapping again.

"I-I would!" exclaimed a handsome white male, standing up from the small chair. Mike nodded encouragingly.

"Hi. I'm... Um... I'm Ben Hanscom. Honestly, I don't care much for politics-" Loud clapping erupted throughout the room. Ben patiently waited for it to die down. "I'm here to talk about the abandoned lot on Sullivan Street."

Mike instantly piped up. "That sounds like a great idea!"

"Um, no. It's a problem. My boyfriend almost died there." Mike’s face instantly fell.

"There's a lot right next to my house. Someone dug it up for some new condos, went bankrupt, and now it's nothing but a giant pit that's been there for almost a year."

Mike nodded in understanding.

"My boyfriend, he's a musician, um, I support him, he fell in and broke both his legs."

“Ben, let me ask you something. This boyfriend of yours who fell into the pit, are you two serious? Like, do you live together or what's going on there?" asked Lucas suddenly and Mike had to fight an urge to strangle him.

"Um, yeah," answered Ben, thoroughly confused.

"I'm sure it's super tough on you. If you feel like you need to move on, I could give you my number and counsel you, you know, through these tough times."

Ben blinked for a couple of seconds and then continued. "Look, I complained about this pit countlessly, and nobody has done anything. YOU need to do something about it!" Another round of applause erupted in the room.

Mike felt his heart thundering wildly in his chest. "Okay. I will help you. I'll do it."

"Is that a promise?" asked Ben, folding his arms.

"Oh, it's a pinky promise. To all of you, that the ugly pit will become the most beautiful damn park in Indiana." Mike put on his most dashing smile, keeping eye contact with Ben’s bright green eyes.

"Babe, can you please clean up? Those people from the City Hall are coming over," said Ben, pointing at the mess on and around Richie's lap.

Richie handed him the empty beer bottle without looking, too occupied with the TV and an open Cheetos bag in his lap.

Ben went into the kitchen to make himself some coffee, but before he had a chance to press the button, a doorbell rang.

"DOORBELL!" Richie's scream rang through the room.

"For fuck's sake, Rich, I heard it."

Ben opened the door to reveal the attractive dark-skinned man again, in the company of two others. One man from last night who kept up the ridiculous flirting, and another, with some weird dark liner underneath, dressed in a cardigan and dark jeans, all grumpy attitude and disinterest.

"Hi, Ben! This is Lucas and Eddie. Eddie is our college intern. He's going to document our conversation if that's okay."

"Um, sure. Whatever you guys need. I'm just gonna grab my phone."

Ben went towards the bedroom, and Mike helped himself in, followed by Lucas and Eddie, both of them carrying solemn expressions on their faces.

"Whoa, this must be the man of the hour!” exclaimed Mike upon seeing a tall, dark-haired man sprawled on the couch, two casts resting on the coffee table.

"I'm Mike Hanlon, it's so nice to meet you." Mike extended his hand for the stranger to shake.

The man took one hand out of the top of the cast, wiped it on his shirt and extended it to Mike, smiling ear to ear. "Hi-ya. Me llamo Richie Rich. Could you pass me my itch stick?" asked the man, pointing towards the piece of wood trapped between beer bottles on the coffee table.

Mike blinked a couple of times. "Uh, sure." He reached out to the piece hesitantly and handed it to the man.

Richie started scratching underneath, making inappropriate moaning and groaning sounds. Eddie snorted loudly, coming further into the house, peeking over Mike’s shoulder.

When Ben came back, they all went outside, positioning themselves right next to the edge of the pit Richie fell in.

"That's the spot," said Ben, standing with hands on his hips, squinting through the morning sun.

"Damn," exhaled Mike. "This place has so much potential. I mean, imagine a swimming pool, a tennis court, basketball court, a Ferris wheel, bowling alley-"

"Um, this pit is not that fucking big, man,” said Ben raising his eyebrows.

Mike did a double back but quickly recovered. "Okay, Eddie, document this," said Mike walking towards the edge.

Eddie pulled out his phone and started filming, a playful smile on his face.

“What are you-“ Ben started but saw that the man has a hard hat on, and seemed to know what he’s doing. He folded the hands in front of himself and tried not to panic.

"In order to assess the damage done to the skinny one back there, I need to get straight into the belly of the beast," said Mike, crawling backwards towards the slope.

Lucas and Ben stared at him incredulously, and Eddie kept smiling mischievously.

"OH, FUCK!" Before Mike got a chance to slide down easily, he tumbled down the slope, arms flailing wildly and clothes filling with gravel and dirt.

Next thing he knows, Mike is sitting on the couch next to Richie who is too occupied playing video games to notice his awakening. Ben suddenly appears on the side handing him a bottle of water and some Advil. Mike lets his eyes rake over the man’s scrubs. Fuck, I forgot he's a nurse.

"Oh. Thank you," said Mike straightening a little and taking the bottle with pills.

"It's alright, don't worry about it. I do have a shift in twenty minutes though. Do you want me to drop you off on the way home?"

Mike lifted his head and turned around, seeing Eddie and Lucas laugh maniacally over something on Eddie's phone, glancing in his direction occasionally. Mike furrowed his brows and stood up slowly, grabbing onto the falling compress, no longer cold.

"Nah, it's alright. Those two will give me a ride. So, do you want to come to my office tomorrow to talk about this? I think we really do have a shot there."

"Yeah, okay. Um, we could try."

“Good.” Mike stretched his neck to the side, feeling the stiffness there. “Do you have something like a neck brace?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You know, one of those things you wear when you break a clavicle or something, like a cast for the neck?”

“Honestly, you didn’t break anything,” said Ben and walked towards the kitchen to grab his coffee to-go.

“Honestly, it fucking hurts,” muttered Mike and started carefully walking towards the front door.

“Is that a travel pillow around your neck?” asked Jim, looking at Mike with a blank expression.

“Okay, irrelevant. You’d understand if you’ve been down at the pit. Have you, Jim?”

“No, can’t say that I’ve had the pleasure.”

“Well, I have.”

“When you fell in.”

“When I visited the place where Richard Tozier lost the function of both of his legs,” said Mike, putting several photographs of his unconscious body at the bottom of the pit in front of Hopper. “I want this subcommittee. You won’t find anyone else more devoted to this.”

Jim looked at the photos in mild amusement, folding his arms on the stomach.

“Michael, you know me well. Do you realize that I don’t want this department to build anything because the government is a big sham?”

Mike looked at his boss with eyes wide as saucers, mouth hanging open in shock.

“If I ever want to see this department privatized for the benefit of large corporations, I can’t have you planning something equally big.”

Mike closed his eyes for several seconds, regaining composure. “I’ll pretend you didn’t just say that. Can you promise to at least think about this?”

Jim looked at his employee with slight irritation but eventually sighed, leaning on the table. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

Mike instantly beamed and bolted towards the door. “Leaving before you change your mind!”

“I didn’t say-“

“This mural is one of the more gruesome ones. It’s so bad that we have to put advertisement posters on top to make sure that children can visit,” said Mike, pointing at one of the largest murals in City Hall, coffee in hand.

“That sounds-“

“Awesome?” “-horrible,” said Ben, cringing at the painted blood that’s still visible from the corner of a rather small poster.

Mike whipped his head around when he heard the approaching clinking of male dressing shoes. Lucas was jogging towards them at a leisurely pace, a satisfied smile dancing around his features.

“Mike, you won’t believe it. Hop approved the committee!” Lucas clapped Mike on the back, and the other beamed at Ben, shaking his free hand in excitement.

“We should celebrate!” exclaimed Mike, dragging all of them back to the Parks and Recreation office.

It hadn’t even been an hour, and everyone was already tipsy from cheap champagne and full of sour cream and onion chips that Mike kept under his table for special occasions. He found himself chatting with Ben who enthusiastically sipped on the glass, more relaxed and open than Mike had ever seen him.

“Man, I’m barely in mid-thirties, and I already landed a subcommittee. I’m an unstoppable force of progress!”

“You know what, you’re like the first government person who makes me believe in democracy,” said Ben, slightly hiccuping from the bubbles.

“Yeah? Well, it’s a promise that this is getting done. We’re in America, baby! The land of cute guys and rapid growth.”

“And I promise to help get that godforsaken pit filled in, even if it takes a couple of months.”

“Whoo!” exclaimed Mike, clinking their plastic glasses and spilling some champagne into his lap. Neither of them noticed.

“Dude, Mike is the most ridiculous drunk you’ve ever seen.”

“How come?” asked Eddie, confidently pouring some champagne into his coffee cup.

“Every single time we have these gatherings, he gets hammered from zero to none liquor. He’s the biggest lightweight,” said Lucas and made his way back to Mike, pouring more champagne into his glass, gesturing for Eddie to look.

“Have you ever forced him to do something stupid?” asked Eddie when Lucas finally made his way back.

“Oh, this one time, a water delivery girl came by and I dared Mike to kiss her. It was hilarious, and he denies it to this day.”

Eddie snorted into the mug and nodded for more champagne.

Perma Tag: @happytozier @studpuffin @j0ys @qwertykevin @its-stranger-than-you-think @trippy-alexissss @letmybabyystayy @tinyarmedtrex @d-nbroughs (let me know if you want to be perma tagged or tagged in this specific fic! <3)

#reddie #mike hanlon #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #ben hascom #my writing #parks and rec au #stanlon #lucas sinclair #jim hopper #stranger things crossover

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pocket-anon · 7 years

Text

The Long Way Home (9/10)

A fic update at a decent hour? *gasp* Amazing how much more you can accomplish when you're not working 12 hours a day, isn't it? This chapter got a bit away from me in terms of length, but I hope you all like it. You guys have been amazing and said the most wonderful, effusive things about this story, and I really can't thank you enough for all your continuing support. Your words have been a gift. Enjoy!

As always, thanks to my beta, @captainstudmuffin, and to @lifeinahole27, @clockadile, and @ladyciaramiggles for their additional feedback. Additional thanks to my wonderful CSBB artists, @waiting-for-autumn and @giraffes-ride-swordfishes for providing some gorgeous artwork to accompany this fic! Links to their illustrations of certain scenes (*) will be in the text - go show them some love!

Find it on AO3. Nautical term glossary here.

Missed a chapter? Get caught up here.

Summary: After an unnaturally long life fraught with personal tragedy, Killian Jones has become known throughout the realms as the infamous Captain Hook, an opportunistic ne’er-do-well and one of the most formidable pirates to ride the waves. When he crosses paths with a mysterious young woman with no memory of who she is or how she arrived there, he recognizes the chance to claim a monetary reward that will constitute his biggest score yet. But a journey across the world to get her home leads to a series of adventures that reveal that her value lies in far more than gold and jewels. A Captain Swan Anastasia AU - sort of. (Captain Swan Enchanted Forest AU. Romance, Adventure, & Eventual Smut. Rated E.)

Warning: Brief but graphic depictions of violence, peripheral character death, and smut.

When Emma finally emerges from below deck, refreshed and tidied up a bit, a great shout arises, with Smee roaring to the rest of the men, “Three cheers for the Lady! Hip-hip!”

“Hurray!”

“Hip-hip!

“Hurray!”

“Hip-hip!”

“Hurray!”

Killian sets his sextant on the sideboard and comes to meet her, beaming as the Princess, glowing with joy and embarrassment, is swarmed by his rough-and-tumble crew. They descend upon her to bestow hugs and kisses as if she were a beloved sister, and her exhilarated laughter can be heard in the ensuing commotion.

“Alright, alright, mates,” he barks, waving his hook hand in feigned annoyance as Martin rounds out the pack by giving Emma a hug that lifts her boots right off the boards. “Give the Lady some space.”

Martin sets Emma back on her feet, and the men back up a little, the cheerful din dying down.

“We have news,” Killian announces. “Some of you are aware that our lovely Swan had lost all memories of her life prior to arriving in Vicarstown. But the curse that was responsible has been broken, and I’m in a position now to introduce you all to Her Royal Highness, Emma,” he turns his head and favors her with a proud smile, “Princess of Misthaven.”

A murmur ripples through the crowd, and the men gape, a few of them removing their headwear and giving Emma deferential bobs of their heads.

“The plan remains the same,” he continues, his tone taking on a stern edge, “We get her safely home. But there is some urgency to the matter now, so we must make haste. Am I understood?” He nods at the scattered calls of acknowledgement, and the tiniest of grins tugs at his mouth. “Extra drink tonight to celebrate the Princess’ recovery, but none for those I catch idling. Back to work!”

At his command, the crew disperses in good spirits, and Killian turns to see Emma’s knowing smirk. He smiles, puzzled. “What?”

“You’re in a good mood.”

He lifts her hand into the crook of his arm and leads her on a stroll astern. “Can you blame me?” he asks quietly in her ear.

Emma ducks her head as though to hide the flush in her cheeks and the way she bites her lip. “I guess not.” They arrive at the aft rail, and she releases his arm, turning to squint up at him in the sunlight. “Time for morning inspection?”

“Aye,” he agrees with a rueful grin.

“Want to spar this afternoon?”

Killian allows himself to grin like a cad, and he leans down so his breath warms her cheek. “With swords or below deck?” he teases. “Because my answer is yes.”

“Hmm.” She colors again, rolling her eyes even as she tries to suppress her smile. “Maybe I should magic your sword away in the middle of practice today.”

“That’s hardly fighting fair, darling.”

“Yeah, well,” she shrugs, and her green eyes glint impishly, “maybe there is a little pirate in me.”

His mouth falls open in a thrilled smile, and he revels in the innuendo, whether she intends it or not. “If you’re trying to tempt me to drag you back to bed,” he mutters in her ear, “it’s working.”

Emma chuckles. “To your post, Captain,” she says, gracefully slipping out of his reach. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He watches her walk away, admiring the subtle sway of her hips and trying not to focus on the memory of how he gripped those hips between his hand and stump as he knelt atop his berth and took her from behind scarcely an hour before. He groans inwardly. Gods, but he’s a lucky bastard.

Roberts approaches and follows his gaze. “She seems to have come through the storm well enough,” he remarks, throwing Killian an astute sideways glance.

Killian quickly puts his prurient thoughts aside and arcs an eyebrow at his quartermaster. “Say what you mean, Old Man.”

Roberts is no fool, and he chooses his words carefully. “It looks as though you two have reached a new understanding,” he observes. “She looks… very happy.”

Killian allows himself one more muted but self-satisfied smile as his eyes continue to follow the Princess across the deck. “Aye,” he answers softly.

“Well, forgive me for sayin’ it’s about bloody time.” Killian turns his head to fix him with an incredulous grin, and Roberts shrugs. “What? We aren’t blind.” He rubs the back of his head. “And she really is the Princess.”

“You doubted me?”

The quartermaster snorts. “Like I don’t know better.” He shuffles his feet a bit. “What becomes of you when we return ‘er to ‘er kingdom?”

Killian’s smile fades, and he looks away, his throat tightening. “That remains to be seen,” he admits at last.

Roberts hesitates, as though weighing the risk of asking another question. “Would you let ‘er go?”

“Back to work, Mr. Roberts,” Killian orders quietly. He rotates away to face the rail and directs his eyes blankly out over the water.

He can all but hear the other man’s sigh of resignation. “Aye, sir.” The boards creak beneath his feet as he retreats.

Killian stares out over their wake, miles upon miles of traversed ocean stretching out behind them. They’ve come so far, he thinks somberly. The thought of sailing away from Emma, of saying goodbye and choosing the sea over a life with her, causes his stomach to clench. Never. But what will that mean for the crew? For the Jolly? His hand drifts absently over the painted yellow rail. This ship has been his home for over a century, his most constant and enduring companion, and as much a part of him as anything in his life. A captain’s heart belongs to his ship, Liam had been fond of boasting.

The sound of Emma’s enthusiastic call causes Killian to look over his shoulder, and he turns partway round to watch her join a few of the men in trimming the sails. The corner of his mouth quirks fondly, and there’s a sad smile in his eyes as they flit about the ship. Sorry, Old Girl, he thinks with a resigned sigh, his gaze returning to the Emma’s shining face. My heart belongs to another now.

The morning passes swiftly, what with there being three days’ worth of issues – issues Smee had wisely determined could wait until the Captain was fully available – to deal with. Most have to do with the blessedly limited damage they sustained in the storm and the loss of supplies that had washed overboard. Thankfully, none of the concerns prove to be truly serious or difficult to address, though Killian is still vastly grateful at midday when the audible gurgle of Smee’s stomach causes his first mate to stuff the dog-eared list of items back into his pocket and decide the remaining entries can be dealt with later.

Sword fighting practice with Emma is enjoyable and satisfying as always. The Princess’ skills continue to progress nicely, and he allows her to try disarming him today, crowing triumphantly when she finally succeeds in loosening his grip and forcing his blade out of his hand. It clatters to the raised platform housing the mid-deck hatch.

“Very good!” he commends her, holding his arms up in mock surrender.

“Is this the part where you beg for mercy?” she teases, advancing on him with an irresistible smile on her lips and the tip of her cutlass aimed at his throat.

He grins and surprises her by stepping on the tip of his sword and flipping it over the edge of the platform. The grip lands back in his hand, and steel clangs again as he catches her blade effortlessly. “Pirates don’t beg.” Killian savors the breathless admiration on her face with a chuckle and pulls his cutlass back in order to assume another fighting stance. “But you’re welcome to keep trying. Again!”

* * *

As promised, they enjoy a night of celebration out on deck, with the crew milling about and Thomas handing out portions of the evening meal from a makeshift station he sets up on a couple large crates. When everyone is outfitted with food and grog, he leaves to fetch more water and rum for the second round of drink. He returns to find Emma using what remains of the near-empty water cask to mix a few more cups of grog for the men.

She meets his stunned stare with a knowing smile as she hands a cup over to Roberts. “Hope you don’t mind me standing in for a minute,” she says cheerfully, holding the next cup out to him. “I do have some serving experience, you know.”

Thomas sets the new cask and bottles he’s carrying down and accepts the cup with a little laugh. “Yes, mil—Your Highness.” He raises it to her and then sips, his eyes lighting with pleasant surprise.

Emma smirks. “Taste alright?”

He nods enthusiastically, drinking again and swishing the watered-down spirits around in his mouth. “For a princess, you make a pretty good pirate,” he comments shyly. “Never knew that day you asked to climb the mast how well you’d take to…” he waves his hand around the ship, “all of this.”

Emma chuckles, handing a cup to Martin and grinning as the carpenter accepts it with a comical little bow and moves off. “I have my parents to thank for that, I guess.”

He cocks his head quizzically and sits down next to her to open the new cask. “I thought you didn’t have much experience on ships.”

“I don’t.” She grins, pouring fresh rum into the now-empty grog pitcher and squeezing in the juice of two lime halves before passing it off to him and wiping her hands on a rag. “But my mother taught me to climb trees and throw knives and shoot with a bow when I was just a girl. After years on the run from the Evil Queen, she decided survival skills were kind of essential.”

"Oh." Thomas looks impressed. “Makes sense, I guess.” He begins cutting the rum with water. “And your father taught you to fight with a sword?”

Emma nods, looking nostalgic. “Well, he and my godfather, Lancelot. Lance brought me my first toy sword when I was three. Mother says the head groom was a little horrified when I started chasing imaginary dragons around the gardens with it, but Papa and Lance were so proud.”

Thomas shares her little laugh. His sets the cask aside and gives the pitcher a good swirl, falling quiet for a moment. “You must miss ‘em.”

Her smile turns a bit sad. “I do, but I’ll see them soon.” She studies him. “Do you have any family?”

The young man shakes his head. “Never knew my father, and my mother died a few years back. My older brother and I survived doing odd jobs at the docks until he was killed in an accident,” he reveals, looking blue. “Wasn’t long after that that I met the Cap’n and he offered me a position on Jolly.” He darts a glance around them at the other crewmen. “This is as close to a family as most of us have now.”

Emma feels a twinge in her chest, and she flashes him a heartfelt smile. “Well, thank you for letting me be part of your family for a little while,” she says gently.

Thomas blushes and rubs the back of his neck. “The debt’s still ours to pay, ma’am.”

When dinner is over and the music commences, Smee comes over to where Killian and Emma are seated against the gunwhale, his hat humbly in his hands and a hopeful grin on his face. “Captain? Permission to ask the Princess for a dance?”

Pure intrigue crosses Killian’s dark features as he peers up at his nervous first mate, but one glance at the sparkle in Emma’s eyes causes him to nod, an amused grin tugging at this mouth. “Granted.”

Smee makes a slightly clumsy bow and extends his hand, the apples of his cheeks glowing red. “Your Highness?”

Emma flashes Killian a brilliant smile as she lays her fingers in Smee’s plump palm and climbs to her feet with a chuckle. “Of course.”

The crew roars at the sight of one of their own escorting the Princess to the center of the deck, and it emboldens a handful more to step forward. Emma laughs and shrieks with delight as Martin, Thomas, Alec, and a few others each take a turn, whirling her around the boards and then handing her off to the next man. At last there comes a rowdy cheer, and she finds herself being spun into a familiar pair of waiting arms as Killian, having left his heavy coat aside, finally claims the rest of the dance for himself. Roberts switches the tune on his shrill little pipe, and the crew begins to clap and chant:

The maiden, oh, the maiden, oh, The sailor loves the maiden, oh! So early in the morning, The sailor loves the maiden, oh! A maid that is young, A maid that is fair, A maid that is kind and pleasant, oh, So early in the morning, The sailor loves the maiden, oh!**

Killian reaches down and wraps his arm around her hips, his face jubilant in the lantern light as he lifts her off her feet and spins them around. Emma gasps in surprise, bracing her arm across the back of his shoulders and beaming down into his shining eyes. Her hero. Her sailor. Her love.

He sets her down at the song’s end, and she wraps both arms around his neck to steady herself, her heart thrumming in her chest and her lips parting in awe as she realizes that, for the first time in all their nights on deck, he’s singing too, directing his smooth baritone down to her while he draws close and bumps his forehead affectionately into hers.

“The sailor loves the maiden, oh!”

* * *

It’s late in the evening by the time they slip below, the muffled sounds of the crew’s merrymaking still audible above their heads. Killian sets their lantern on the table as Emma presses the cabin door shut behind them and hangs up his coat. He comes up behind her and runs his hand down her arm, nuzzling the side of her face and placing a soft kiss on her cheek. “Tired, love?”

He smiles at her throaty little chuckle. “Only a little.” She spins and lays her hands on his chest, and desire rolls into the pit of his belly when her lips find his. Her kiss is gentle at first, tender and slow, but she mewls when he emits a quiet growl and tugs her hips flush with his, her hands winding up and over his shoulders and her mouth opening wider to allow his questing tongue better access.

His trousers grow tighter as the heat between them flares, and he pulls away a moment, panting, the tip of his nose drifting across her cheek. “Would you like to...”

“Yeah.”

An idiotic grin spreads across his face as she presses forward and kisses him again, and they stagger backward toward his berth in a progressively mad fumble. Her slender fingers work at the clasps of his waistcoat until she can slide her hands beneath the soft leather and push it free. Killian chuckles into her mouth at the hunger in her kisses and the efficiency of her movements as she strips him, a little groan tearing from his throat when she manages to undo his shirt buttons and her hands alight on his bare chest, her fingers smoothing upward through the soft dark hair atop his skin and skimming laterally along his collarbones until she shoves the fabric up off his shoulders. He struggles to detach his hook in time so he can finish shedding the shirt without tearing the cotton, opening his eyes long enough to toss the brace and hook haphazardly onto the shelf behind the bed with a clatter. His lips are still upturned and his voice gravelly as his shirt hits the floor and he reaches for her jerkin. “My turn.”

In a few minutes more, he has Emma naked and on his bed, and she barely has time to pull her hair down before he sheds his boots and trousers and chains and crawls up over her to resume his assault on her mouth while his fingers traverse the miles of creamy skin beneath them, caressing the globes of her breasts and then running south to skim her damp folds. Her breath catches at the latter, and he smiles and fingers her sex again. “So perfect.”

Her hands flail between them, tickling down across his stomach, but his involuntary laugh turns into a sharp intake of breath when she finds his swollen member and her fingertips drift down the shaft. Emma looks up at him with uncertainty. “Is this…?”

His hair hangs in his eyes as he nods vigorously, groaning again when her hand tentatively closes around him and begins to pump slowly. “Bloody hell,” he mumbles, closing his eyes and letting himself savor the tantalizing sensation that washes over him in waves. She begins to twist a little with every stroke, growing bolder and picking up speed, and he falters, rolling to one side and pulling her with him. They wiggle about on the narrow mattress until he’s under her, and he gazes up at her spellbound as she straddles his thighs and reaches for his erection again. Her continued attention makes Killian throw his head back against the pillow, chest heaving and eyelids heavy. Pleasure surges through his veins, building by the second, and he begins to sense that familiar tingle at the base of his spine. “Swan…” he grunts, face contorting with need. “Please…”

He hears her quiet giggle, and her hand slows. “I thought pirates didn’t beg.”

Her cheek causes a faint smile to ghost across his face while he does his best to retain his self-control. “I stand corrected,” he manages. “There’s not a man alive who wouldn’t be asking for mercy right now.” He gestures. “Come here.”

She obliges, rising up a little and shifting forward, and he brings his knees up and plants his feet, guiding her hips until she’s lowering herself onto him. Emma tosses her head and bites her lip, whimpering as he fills her, and she sinks down until she’s fully seated, her backside resting against the slope of his thighs.

The sight of her like this – bare, magnificent, and mounted, with her head thrown back, hair cascading over her shoulder and throat exposed in a graceful line – it’d be enough to make him weep if the sensation of her wet heat around him didn’t reduce Killian’s coherent thoughts to a mere memory. His hand and stump remain on her waist when she leans forward on his chest and begins rocking, grinding against him and whining as she seeks her climax. They establish a rhythm, with her pushing and him pulling in tandem, and her breathy little moans only serve to drive him closer and closer to the brink as she rides him with increasing fervor until at last she cries out and buries her face in his neck. Her entire body shudders, her muscles pulsing tight around him, and he finally lets go, his eyes clamped shut and his jaw slack as ecstasy overtakes him.

Emma rolls her hips against him a few more times before giving into exhaustion and falling still at last. Her body continues to tremble, and he smoothes her hair back and turns his head to press his lips to her forehead before rolling them back over.

“Emma,” he murmurs, cupping her cheek in his hand and trailing soft kisses down across her face. “My Emma.”

She chuckles with breathless satisfaction.

He drifts back to her mouth, pulling at her lips with his. “For the record,” he says between kisses, “you’re welcome to make me beg like that anytime.”

Emma laughs beneath him. “Noted.”

* * *

The rest of the week flies by like a wonderful dream, their usual daytime activities now punctuated with shared looks and a habit of easy, casual affection on deck – a hand around her hip, a touch on his arm, the diminishing space between them when they stand together with his hand on her back or her fingers around his hook.

She asks Killian to show her more of the stars, so they take the night watch one evening when the wind dies down and the seas are calm, bundling up together beneath a blanket on the top with the sails above them furled in order to give them a better view of the northern sky. He points out the constellations one by one, his voice growing melodious in her ear as he waxes poetic about the legends surrounding each cluster of stars until well past midnight. From there they turn to other topics, and under the cover of darkness they share warm, lazy kisses and stories of their past adventures until Emma doses off, snuggled in his arms and reclined against his chest.

He watches her sleep as he keeps an eye out for anything unexpected ahead, reflecting with a private grin that the soft, even cadence of her breathing may have surpassed a tranquil ocean horizon as the greatest calming force in his life. A deep sigh escapes him as he listens to the hushed lap of the water and familiar groan of the timbers and the occasional squeak of a rusty hinge on the solitary lamp that hangs off the bow to light their way. It’s perfection, this moment, he thinks. Up here on the mast with Emma in his arms, the stars overhead, and the ship below – it’s as though everything he needs is here in this one place. Peace. Home. Love. He wonders whether he’ll ever be afforded another moment as perfect as this. He’s long been used to uncertainty about his future, long appreciated the potential for each day to bring something new, but now that he’s found Emma, he finds himself feeling anxious about the unknowns that await them in Misthaven. How will he keep her safe from the Dark One? What will her parents think of their precious daughter taking up with a pirate? Will they try to drive him off, or worse, try to send him and his crew to the gallows? Out here on the ocean, there’s nothing to come between him and Emma, but when they reach land, aye, that’s a different tale. Killian sighs again and tightens his arm around her shoulders, touching a worried kiss to the top of her head. One moment at a time, he thinks, focusing on her breathing and trying to silence the fears niggling at his heart. One moment at a time.

The sky lightens over the next few hours, transforming from black to navy as the golden penumbra of the rising sun peeks over the lip of the visible world off to their right. As the light grows brighter, pinks and oranges bleed into the sky and cause the low clouds that hang just above their heads to glow with the same warm shades.

Emma stirs, shifting against him groggily and shivering a little as she reaches up to rub her eyes. “What time is it?”

He buries his nose in her hair. “Just about six, I imagine,” he says with a little smile. “Cold?”

“I’m okay.” She tugs the blanket tighter around them. “Though I wouldn’t mind a warm little nap in your cabin this morning.”

He chuckles and hugs her tighter to him. “Agreed. Would you like to head down now? I can join you when Alec comes to take over as lookout in a bit,” he offers. His smile widens when she shakes her head.

“I’ll stay with you.”

Killian leans forward and kisses the cold shell of her ear. “Good.”

Her lashes flutter as she rolls a bit in his embrace and stares upward, and he admires the gleam of her green eyes in the morning light before following her dreamy gaze to the tip of the fore-mast as it skims the rosy clouds above their heads.

A glint in the distance draws his attention back to the sea, and he blinks, wondering if it’s a trick of the light until he sees the little flash again.

Emma senses his distraction, and she cranes her neck back toward the horizon. “What?”

Killian squints, reluctantly releasing her so she can sit up and he can reach for his spyglass. “There’s something out there,” he says with a frown. “Something small.”

Emma shades her eyes as she peers into the glare of the rising sun. “Bird?”

He shakes his head, extending the barrel and raising the glass to get a better look. “No. It looks like it’s… floating.” His brow furrows as he considers the options and sees the sunlight reflect brilliantly off the little object again. “It looks like gold.” He hands the spyglass to Emma. “A magical talisman?”

Emma raises the eyepiece, looking perplexed. She’s silent for a long moment before she suddenly bursts out laughing.

Killian straightens. “What? What is it, love?”

She hands the spyglass back to him with a sly smile and flips her palm upward. In the distance, the object disappears in a poof and reappears in her hand, and Killian gapes down at a jeweled hair comb, the gold intricately molded to look like a spray of tiny flowers.

Emma grins at him, her cheeks pink with amusement. “It’s the comb Blue enchanted to find me,” she says. She dries the water droplets that still dot the precious metal with her shirt sleeve. “It must have been in the ocean this whole time.”

“Huh.” Killian’s forehead wrinkles. “At that speed, it would have taken a year to find you in Vicarstown,” he points wryly.

She chuckles and shrugs. “Admittedly, most people don’t disappear to the other side of the world.” She runs a thumb over the flowers affectionately. “I’m glad I got it back. It was a gift from the dwarves. Buttercups are my favorite.”

He nods, suddenly feeling another pang of melancholy at this reminder of her impending return to her other life. He bows his head and forces a smile. “It’s lovely, Swan.”

“Mm.” Emma tucks the comb into her jerkin and snuggles close to him again with a contented sigh, her eyes returning to the multicolored sky and the radiance of the rising sun. “I could stay here forever,” she hums.

The warmth of a tear presses its way to the corner of his eye, and he turns his head to plant a fierce kiss on her cheek, closing his eyes against the ugly fears begin to claw at his heart once again.

She rubs the angle of his jaw without taking her gaze off the light dancing on the ocean. “Have you ever done this before?” she asks. “Watched the sunrise up here, I mean.”

He thinks, frowning as the answer occurs to him. “I haven’t.”

“Ever?” She chuckles incredulously. “In over a hundred years?” She fixes him with a curious look. “Why not?”

“Well,” he shifts, tightening his arm around her torso, “Milah never cared for heights. And since then, there’s been no one to share the stars with.” A sad little smile twitches at the side of his mouth. “I might never have done this, had it not been for you.”

Emma lays her hand on his chest and closes the distance between them for a slow, ardent kiss, her cold lips somehow managing to warm something deep within him. The corners of her eyes crinkle when she pulls back. “Well, I’m glad we did,” she murmurs.

“As am I.” Killian looks down and reaches for her other hand, lacing his fingers between hers. “But it’s not watching the sunrise that’s special, you know,” he adds quietly, leaning his forehead against hers. “It’s having you here with me.”

Moisture gathers on her lashes as she blinks rapidly up at him, his own happiness reflected in her huge eyes, and she seems at a loss to do anything but press forward and draw him into another excruciatingly gentle kiss. Their lips are unrushed as they move together, every shared breath deliberate and saturated with emotion and promise, and he hears her sniffle just as a solitary tear leaves a cold trail down his cheek.

She’s changed everything for him, he realizes. It doesn’t matter what awaits them in Misthaven. He’d abandoned the hope of finding a happy ending long ago, but he understands now that he was wrong. It’s here. It’s her. And now that he’s tasted heaven, he’ll walk through hell if that’s what it takes to keep it.

* * *

Well, isn’t this interesting?

The Dark One stares with fascination at the image of the pirate kissing the Princess that fills his crystal ball, and his blackened heart swims with a myriad of emotions – ages-old bitterness, hate, disgust, curiosity, and even perverse amusement at the idea that the he’s about to have the opportunity to get Excalibur back and kill the arrogant bastard, Hook, once and for all.

He supposes he couldn’t have planned it any better, really.

With a wave of his hand, the crystal goes blank, and he rises and heads for his spinning wheel. He always does his best plotting while at the wheel, and between planning a welcome home of his own for the Princess, a suitably painful execution for the pirate, and the assassinations of a veritable rainbow of fairies, there’s much to think over.

* * *

“Land, ho!” Alec’s voice booms triumphantly overhead.

His call brings Emma and Killian’s latest sparring session to a halt, with the pair of them whirling to look fore. Killian stows his cutlass and reaches for his spyglass, waiting until Emma’s hands are free to hand it over with an encouraging smile. “Go on, Swan. Set your sights upon home.”

She grins weakly and makes haste for the nearest shroud, shimmying up onto the rigging in a flash.

Killian comes to stand below, fixing his eyes on the dark green shoreline in the distance. “How far is it to the castle?” he asks as she drops back down to the deck.

Emma clears her throat and hands back his glass. “Not far. Less than a day’s ride.”

He frowns at her pensive expression. “What’s wrong?”

“I just…” She gnaws on her lip, her eyes faraway. “Maybe you should stay here with the ship.”

“What?” He frowns sharply. “Why?”

Poorly-suppressed emotions cross her face, her eyelashes fluttering with uncertainty. “Just until we deal with the Dark One,” she explains, trying to sound firm. “I’ll send word when it’s done.”

Killian straightens, cocking his head back with indignation. “All due respect, darling, but that’s a load of bloody nonsense,” he grinds out. “I go where you go, and I’m sure as hell not letting you face the Demon alone.”

Her green eyes shimmer, and she shakes her head with increasing frustration. “It’s too dangerous. Even if he didn’t already hate you, it’d be dangerous.”

“Aye, he hates me,” Killian nods, “but you’re the one he’s coming after. And it is dangerous. That’s why our best choice is to face it together.”

“I…” She turns away, her voice cracking.

He rolls his eyes and reaches out to rotate her back toward him. “Swan—”

“I can’t lose you!” she explodes. She glances around self-consciously at the surprised looks from a few nearby crewmen, her cheeks growing hot. Her gaze falls to the toes of her boots, and she sniffs. “I just… I can’t.”

Killian stares, his features softening as he reads the resolve in her face and wonders yet again what he’s done to deserve a woman like this. He shoots his men a look that sends them scuttling off before turning back to her and wrapping his hand reassuring around her arm. “Love, you don’t have to worry about me,” he replies gently.

Emma blinks up at his soft grin, her wide eyes searching his face expectantly.

“One thing I’m good at,” he reminds her, stepping closer and tipping his head forward, “is surviving.” He grins as some of the anxiety fades from her expression and she manages a weak smile, and he closes the remaining inches between them and captures her lips with his.

She melts in his arms, her whine soft as he draws her up against his chest and continues to kiss her soundly, and when they finally pause for air, she blushes an even deeper shade of pink. “The men are watching.”

“Let them,” he rumbles, pressing forward to kiss her again.

The Jolly makes port at the seaside town of Jennings Harbor by midday, and though it takes the harbor master a few long minutes to recognize Emma standing at the gunwhale, excited calls suddenly erupt along the wharf.

“It’s the Princess!”

“The Princess has returned!”

The ship is moored and the boarding plank lowered, and Killian is the first off, stepping out on to the plank and turning to offer Emma his hand and a sober grin. “Welcome home, Swan.”

She squeezes his fingers gratefully as they descend, her face a mixture of relief and apprehension.

Having bustled out on to the dock, the harbor master doffs his hat and greets them with a low bow that belies the man’s portly frame. “Welcome home, Your Highness. Are you alright?” He eyes Killian and the crew beyond with a nervous smile.

Emma gives him a gracious nod. “I’m fine, Mr…?”

“Rosen, ma’am,” he supplies, setting his hat back atop his head.

“Mr. Rosen.” She smiles. “May I present Captain Killian Jones of the Jolly Roger?”

Rosen’s jowls pale a bit at confirmation of the ship’s identity. He bows his head hastily in Killian’s direction, his brown eyes widening at the sight of Killian’s hook. “S-sir.” He darts Emma a questioning glance. “Your Highness?”

“These men are my friends, and I owe them a debt,” she tells him firmly. “They’ve sailed halfway across the world to bring me home, and they’re to remain in port for the time being. Please look after them for me?”

He gulps at her request. “Y-yes, Princess.”

“We need a horse,” Killian tells him. “We ride for the castle immediately.”

Rosen gives a hasty bob of his head. “Of-of course. We’ll send word to the Royal Guard in town,” he says, looking to Emma for approval.

News of the Princess’ return seems to spread across the town in mere minutes, and the guardsmen are quick to arrive even without a summons. They ride up in a party of four bearing silver armor and shields emblazoned with what Killian supposes is her parents’ crest.

“May we escort you, Your Highness?” the middle-aged captain asks, aiming a wary look at Killian as Emma selects one of their mares and swings expertly up into the saddle.

She beckons Killian to climb up, and he happily follows, hoisting himself into place behind her, her back warm against his chest. It’s not lost on the Guard when she twists a little and gestures for him to take the reins for a moment, but if she notices the disapproving stares that come when he softly slips his arm around her waist to grab them, she pays them no mind. “That’s not necessary, Captain,” Emma replies with a little smile, tilting her head sideways and tugging her hair down to hurriedly plait it over one shoulder, “but you’re welcome if you can keep up.”

Killian smirks.

The guards swap bewildered looks before the captain signals gruffly for two of his three men to accompany them.

“My thanks for your help, Sirs.” Emma’s hand drifts over Killian’s as she reassumes the reins and catches his eye over her shoulder. “Ready?”

He flashes her a grin and nods. “Aye, love. Let’s go.”

* * *

It feels a bit surreal to be home and flying along familiar forest roads with Killian at her back and her world so changed since she was last here, Emma thinks as she drives the horse west at an aggressive pace, hooves going thubuddy, thubuddy against the packed dirt. Killian’s hand is solid against her belly, and the way they rise and fall together with each extension of the mare’s legs makes her mind drift to more pleasurable activities – thoughts that make her skin tingle even as her stomach clenches with anxiety at her parent’s reaction to her choice to be with him. The guards’ reaction to seeing her physical ease with Killian was not subtle, and she bristles inwardly at the thought of having to endure the same looks from virtually everyone they encounter. As it does around the world, Killian’s reputation precedes him here. She remembers the stories she heard growing up in Court of a dashing and treacherous pirate with a hook for a hand, and though she now knows those tales mix truth and exaggeration and do not accurately portray the complicated man she loves, the problem of how to get her parents and the rest of the kingdom to see what she sees gnaws achingly at her.

They ride hard for several hours with the guardsmen in tow before electing to stop at a noisy brook to stretch and rest the horses for a short while.

Emma kneels by the water to scoop a few handfuls up to her mouth and then splatter some on her face, the ice cold splash the perfect relief for her sun-warmed skin. She catches Killian grinning at her as she dabs at her jaw with her forearm. “What?”

He shrugs. “Nothing, love. You just seem at home here.”

She gives a dry chuckle. “I had an early education when it comes to the forest. My mother knows this land better than even our most experienced huntsmen.” She spies a berry bush a dozen steps upstream and wanders over to pick a few of the small, dark fruits that hang heavy among the prickly leaves. The sweet and slightly tart taste is as well-known to her as her favorite songs and her most cherished childhood memories, and her fingers work absently, her restless thoughts continuing to simmer.

Killian’s footsteps approach from behind. “What’s wrong?”

She turns her head a bit as he draws near, a half-hearted dimple appearing at how unnecessarily close he pulls up next to her. “Hmm? Oh. Nothing.” Her voice is soft.

Killian’s hand brushes soothingly across the small of her back. “I’ve heard that one before.”

Emma glances at him, both annoyed and touched that he knows her so well. "How do you know?"

“Well, I hate to break it to you,” he informs her cheerfully, "but you’re something of an open book, Swan.”

His continued use of her nickname makes her smile, wistful as she is now for that time when she was a simple barmaid with no worries about royal obligations, political affairs, or some impending battle with the Dark One. She arcs an eyebrow at him and holds out a handful of berries. “Am I?”

“Mm-hmm.” His hum generates a pleasant shiver between her shoulder blades, and she watches him slip the fruit into his mouth and consider the taste. “Worried about introducing me to your parents?”

“I…” She rolls her eyes at how spot-on he is. “Maybe a little.”

He falls silent for a moment, though she can virtually hear the wheels in his head turning as he catches his hook on the bramble to hold a branch steady while his fingers pluck off a few more berries. “I can’t ask anyone to turn a blind eye to what I’ve done in the past, love,” he says soberly, “but I’ll do what it takes to be with you.”

“And what if my father just wants to have you thrown you in the lake?” she asks, her face glum.

Killian smiles. “Then I should be happy to oblige him. I’m an excellent swimmer, you know,” he quips, popping a few more berries into his mouth and brushing his hand on his shirt.

Emma chuckles in spite of herself. “Pirate.”

“Naturally.” He reaches up to finger a stray lock of hair over her ear, his expression turning solemn. “I’ll figure something out.” He thumbs at a bit of juice at the corner of her lips. “I always do.”

The sun is beginning to set as their destination finally rises into view, the golden rays shining from behind the looming stone towers and buttresses in a brilliant halo and shimmering across the waters of the surrounding lake. The royal palace looks at it always has, with a dozen spires of various heights reaching for the sky and flags waving proudly in the spring breeze, and despite all her uncertainties, the sight of it fills Emma with an enormous measure of relief.

“That’s it!” she calls excitedly. “Home!” A elated laugh breaks from her chest, and she sniffles.

Killian’s arm hugs her closer, and he presses his face close to her ear. “Is that it? I was expecting something… grander.”

She giggles and elbows him lightly in the ribs.

A heavy gate flanked by stone guardhouses stands at the beginning of the great bridge that spans the divide between the mainland and the rocky island on which the castle is built. Emma’s homecoming causes more shouts to ring out as she’s immediately recognized by the soldiers standing watch, and there’s a great scramble to swing the wrought iron out of the way in time.

They thunder by, the loud clip of the horses’ hooves across the bridge’s gray pavers announcing their arrival, and mere moments later they pass through the even larger, more imposing gate leading to the castle grounds.

Emma draws them to a halt in the main courtyard, the mare blowing and knackering while Killian leaps off and takes the horse’s head to steady her.

“Princess!”

A familiar voice cuts through the air, and Emma’s face lights up. She jumps down and greets the white-haired head groom with a hug. “Marcus!”

“Thank goodness you’ve returned! We’ve been so worried.” The uniformed gentleman holds her out at arm’s length, his brow wrinkling in confusion as he studies her rumpled clothes and appearance. “What on earth are you wearing?”

Emma rolls her eyes at the fastidious old man. “The appropriate clothes for a long voyage at sea,” she explains patiently. “It’s been quite a journey.”

He seems unconvinced. “Ah.” He glances fleetingly at her attire again, a distressed grimace hinting at the corner of his mouth. “Well, I shall have a bath set up in your chambers straight away.”

“Later,” she says with a shake of her head. “Where are my parents?”

“The King and Queen are in the Council Room, last I knew.”

“Good.” Emma turns and gives the weary guardsmen a quick smile. “Thank you for the escort,” she says, grabbing Killian’s hand and summoning her magic. “Excuse us.”

Smoke surrounds them, and when it dissipates, they’re standing in the wide hallway just outside the heavy wooden doors to the chamber in question. Her heart races with anticipation and nervousness, and she pauses to take a deep breath, turning to Killian and squeezing his fingers. “Ready?”

There’s matching anxiety in the brief way he licks his lips, but he puts on a smile. “After you, Swan.”

Emma studies his brave face and pulls him into an impulsive hug, cradling his jaw and kissing him deeply, unsure when she'll have the chance again. She looks back up at him, her thumb brushing across his scruff as she tries to memorize the weight of his arms around her. “I love you.”

The heart-wrenching devotion in his blue eyes is something else to savor. “And I you,” he murmurs. He gives her another peck. “Go on.”

She gives him one more shaky smile and lets him go, taking a massive door handle in each hand. “Mother? Papa?” she calls, “Are you here?” With a shove, the doors swing open.

* * *

Emma’s parents are indeed in the Council Room, and a bit of excited chaos ensues when she pushes her way in.

The King and Queen are standing on the far side of the room next to a great crackling fireplace that sits beyond an enormous rounded table. Their heads are bowed together as they confer about something, but Emma’s voice causes them to both look up in astonishment.

“Emma?”

“Emma!”

Their voices echo in the cavernous room, and Emma scurries across the polished stone floor, threading a neat path around the table and the wide red-and-gold trimmed stone pillars that bear up the ceiling. She grunts happily as her father catches her in his arms, and the trio locks into a tight embrace. Light from the hearth dances over the emotion that wells up on the King's face. He cups the back of Emma’s head while her mother bursts into relieved sobs, and the sight of the triumphant reunion causes Killian’s chest to swell as he wanders in and positions himself unobtrusively next to a nearby pillar.

“Thank the gods you’re alright!” Emma’s father mutters. “Are you alright?”

Emma nods against his chest and shudders, her voice muffled in his tunic. “I’m fine. I missed you.”

“We missed you too. We were so worried, honey,” the Queen sighs. “We were so happy when Blue told us she’d seen you.” She opens her eyes and spies Killian, her lips parting in surprise. “Oh! You brought a guest.” She pulls away from her husband and daughter and hurriedly dabs at her tears with the end of her sleeve.

The King looks up as well, creases forming on his forehead and his eyes narrowing in suspicion as he takes in Killian’s appearance. He straightens and squares his shoulders. “Hello.”

Emma steps away from her parents and motions toward him. “This, um, this is the man who brought me home,” she explains, sounding nervous. “Captain Killian Jones.”

Killian gives her a soft smile as he takes her hand and lets her draw him forward. “Your Majesties,” he says, dipping into his best formal bow. “A pleasure.”

The King glances with a frown at the way their hands linger together for a second too long. “Captain.” He bobs his head stiffly, meeting Killian’s eye before allowing his stare to fall to the hook. “The Blue Fairy told us you were involved. Thank you for returning our daughter to us.”

“Yes, thank you,” Emma’s mother echoes more effusively. “We owe you a great debt.” She finishes composing herself with one last sniffle. “We will gladly compensate you for your efforts.”

Killian gives her a warm smile and bows again. “I’m sure my crew will appreciate it.”

There’s an awkward beat of silence.

“Um, where are they now?” the Queen asks politely.

“My ship is at Jennings Harbor. The men stay with her pending further orders.”

“Right.” The King clears his throat. “Well, we won’t keep you from them long. We can outfit you with your reward and have you on your way tomorrow morning.”

Killian and Emma share an uneasy look. “Actually, I was planning to stay close by,” he says carefully. “Emma may be home, but she’s still in danger of attack by the Dark One, as I’m sure the Fairy also told you.” His eyes flit back to Emma, and the corner of his lips tugs upward solemnly. “I don’t intend to leave her in a time of need.” Or ever, he thinks.

The Queen looks genuinely moved, but her husband shakes his head with a chuckle. “Well, that’s very noble of you,” he says with a smile that comes just short of genuine, “but we don’t need you to stay.”

Killian tips his head back, surveying Emma’s father coolly. “It’s not open for debate, I’m afraid.”

The King blinks, his incredulous grin widening. “No. It’s not. We don’t need help from a pirate. We’ve already got a plan.”

“And what’s that?”

“That’s none of your concern,” the King shoots back, his voice now bordering on testy.

Killian snorts. “The bloody hell it isn’t.” He feels Emma's fingers intertwine with his, and his thumb sweeps across her knuckles restlessly in reply.

The King looks affronted and the Queen curves a brow as they note this action with a mix of interest and alarm.

Emma layers her other hand over the back of his, and Killian glances up to see a silent plea for patience in her large eyes. He folds his lips, trying to suppress his look of irritation, and she turns to her parents.

“What’s the plan?” she asks.

“Emma, are you two—”

“What’s the plan, Mother?”

“Squid ink.” All attention turns to the King, who impatiently pulls a small vial out of the chest pocket of his dark red velvet tunic. “It stops any magical creature in its tracks. We’ll use it to disable the Dark One and capture him.”

“It was Blue’s idea,” the Queen explains. “Our friend Ariel helped procure it.”

“See?” the King says pointedly, glowering at Killian, “We’re perfectly capable of protecting our daughter.”

“Oh, are you now?”

They whirl in the direction of the open door, and Killian’s sword is out of its sheath at the first sound of that sinister, sing-song voice he knows all too well from his nightmares. Bloody fucking hell. The Queen gasps as a spritely man with a gold sheen to his leathery skin and a coat made of crocodile hide steps into view, and even though he’s across the room, they all back instinctively toward the fireplace.

“Shame that you’re the ones that need protecting,” he cackles, the light from the overhead chandelier glimmering off his unnatural complexion. He passes over the threshold, waving one hand in that peculiar, dramatic way of his, and the squid ink flies out of the King’s grasp and plummets to the hearth with the sound of smashing glass.

** So Early in the Morning (a.k.a. The Sailor's Loves) is an real traditional sea shanty. You can read more about it and listen to the tune here, though I imagine Roberts' version to be much more upbeat. :)

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#csbb #cs ff #cs fic #cs smut #captain swan #captain wench #captain duckling #cs ef au #cs anastasia au #cs au #cs au ff #ouat ff #ouat fanfic #my writing #the long way home

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minimin1993 · 5 years

Text

S/M 47 & B/L 40

Warning: Closure.

Sebastian and Min were finally ‘relaxing’ in her temporary apartment after her long shoot when she got a Skype call from Key.

“Hey umma long time no talk.” Min smirked when she accepted the call seeing Key face.

“Lady please, you were the one who decided to move to America. Not my fault our time zones are different.” Key smirks. “Ohhh whos that arm wrapped around your shoulder? Your new boo?”

“Actually, more like an old time boo.” She said turning her screen over to Sebastian who waves at Key.

“Holy shittttt, you guys are finally together?” Key asks unable to control his excitement squealing like a little girl.

“Oh shut up, yes we are finally together. But can you keep it on the down low please not a lot of people know yet. We decided not to go public yet and keep the fans guessing.” Min explains.

“Uggg fine my lips are sealed but shitttt I can imagine how the fans are going to react once they find out BuckLin is real in real life too so what that ship name. SebMin? Noo that sounds too much like semen… SebYoung?… StanYoung?.. OooYoungStan… That it… I like that YoungStan.” Key started to ramble making Sebastian and Min laugh.

“Anyways Key not that I don’t want Min to talk to you but we are kind of in the middle of something.” Sebastian said, showing his topless torso with some very fresh love marks on it.”

“Ahhh, please continue I would love to watch… actually no it will like watching my little sister have sex… wait noo scratch that. But ummm I will cut to the chase.” Key said before taking a deep breath and started to talk in korean only. “I want you to know that I support you 100% and take your side but Jonghyun hasn’t been so good lately and I was hoping you could talk to him.”

“Define hasn’t been so good?” Min asks.

“You know how he was, he’s getting worse. His depression has taken a whole new turn, it is worrying me. And you were the only one who got through to him. You know I wouldn’t ask you unle….”

“I will talk to him.” Min said calmly.

“I know, I am sorry I asked, I won't… Wait? You will talk to him?” Key asked in shock.

“Yes I will, I have forgiven him a long time ago.” Min said turning to Sebastian who was smiling tenderly at her; he grabs her hand placing a soft kiss on top of it. “You have?” Jonghyun asked at the entrance of Key door staring at Key laptop seeing Sebastian look at Min like she hung the moon and stars herself.

“Shit… I am sorry Min.” Key realized he forgot to lock his door.

“It’s fine let me talk to him.” Min said turning to look at Sebastian to see if he was mad but he just smiled at her encouraging her.

“You forgiven me?” Jonghyun said sitting down when Key left the room.

“Yeah I have.” Min said not wanting to cry.

“I am so sorry, I will never be able to forgive myself for what I have done to you.” “We were practically kids then, yeah gotta admit it was like a stab to the heart but it's fine. You shouldn't punish yourself for something that happened years ago.”

“But if I didn’t you would have stayed…”

“Jongie stop, I understand what you are coming from. It happened and to be honest, I wouldn’t change it for the world. I love where I am at and I love who I am with. I’m sorry Jongie, I won’t be able to be there for you as a partner anymore but I can still be here for you as a friend.” Min said smiling sadly at the screen. “So what do you say? Friends?”

“I would rather have you as my friend then nothing at all. Friends.” Jonghyun said smiling sadly at the screen with tears running down his face.

“Good, don’t be a stranger and message me more often. I will be expecting it more now.” Min said.

“Deal. I will let you go, it looks like you are a little busy.” Jonghyun said smirking at Sebastian. “Yeah about that. Talk to you soon, I have some business to finish.” Min winks at the camera.

“Have fun, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Pftt. You would do anything.”

“Exactly… Bye Min.”

“Bye Jongie.”

Everyone was suited up in their Quantum suit walking over to the Time Machine all huddled around the platform.

“Five years ago, we lost. All of us. We lost friends... We lost family... We lost a part of ourselves. Today, we have a chance to take it all back. You know your teams, you know your missions. Get the stones, get them back. One round trip each. No mistakes. No do-overs. Most of us are going somewhere we know. But it doesn't mean we should know what to expect. Be careful. Look out for each other. This is the fight of our lives. And we're gonna win.” Steve said, Tony looks over giving Steve an approving look. “Whatever it takes. Good luck.”

“He's pretty good at that.” Rocket said about Steve speech.

“Right?” Scott said looking very excited.

“All right. You heard the man. Stroke those keys, jolly green.” Tony refers to Bruce who was typing on the keys. “Tractors engaged.”

“We got this Linda.” Steve said looking over at Linda who was wearing a grin on her face that hasn’t been there since before the incident.

“See you in a minute.” Natasha said smiling excitedly at Steve then Linda who winks back at her friend. They all shrink and enter the Quantum Realm, and they all split at different intervals, going to a different place at a different time in history.

The first group which consists of Tony, Steve, Linda, Bruce, and Scott; travels to New York in 2012, materializing right in the middle of the Chitauri battle.

“All right, we all have our assignments. Two Stones uptown, one Stone, down. Stay low. Keep an eye on the clock.” Steve explains when the 2012 Hulk passes by them smashing everything in his way. Linda turns around to look at their Bruce who facepalms himself completely embarrassed. “Feel free to smash a few things along the way.” Linda said smirking at Bruce who rips off his shirt

“I think it's gratuitous, but whatever.” Bruce said walking over to pretend to be 2012 Hulk smashing everything in a sarcastic way while growling fakely. Linda stands behind everyone holding her stomach laughing silently when Tony turns to look at her pushing her playfully but also has a smirk on his face.

The rest starts to pair up, Steve and Linda, Tony and mini sized Scott waiting for their signal to move in.

“Just like old days huh.” Linda smirks as she and Steve runs over to the entrance of what was left of the Stark tower.

“God how I missed you and your snarky remarks.” Steve smiles shaking his head.

“Got to hustle, Cap. Things look like they're just about wrapped up here.” Tony said in the com. “Uh, Mr. Rogers. I almost forgot that that suit did nothing for your ass.”

“No one asked you to look, Tony.” Steve said

“It's ridiculous”

“I think you look great, Cap. As far as I'm concerned, that's America's ass.” Scott said as Linda slows down a bit just to stare at Steve ass now in his current suit.

“However now were on the topic of Steve ass, let me just say my view right now is great.” Linda said causing Steve to look back seeing Linda raise her eyebrows at him.

“What? Like Scott said, America’s ass, and I gotta see what that is all about.”

By the time they got to the elevator Tony updated them on what was going on.

“All right, Cap. I got our scepter in the elevator just passing the 80th floor.” “On it. Head to the lobby.” Steve answered.

“Alright. I'll see you there.” When the elevator opens the ‘Hydra’ Agents sees Steve and Linda who both just walks in and hits the button to continue down.

“Captain, Grey. I thought you were coordinating search and rescue?” 2012 Sitwell asks confused.

“Change of plans.”

“Hey, Cap. Grey” Brock said not taking his eyes off Steve.

“Rumlow.” Steve said when Linda and himself caught the eye of an agent grabbing his gun while everyone was getting suspicious. “I just got a call from the Secretary. I'm gonna be running point on the scepter”

“Sir? I don't understand.” Sitwell said confused.

“We got word there may be an attempt to steal it.”

“Sorry, Cap. I can't give you the scepter.” Brock said rolling his eyes

“I'm gonna have to call the Director.” Sitwell said.

“That's okay. Trust me.” Steve said leaning over to Sitwell's ear. “Hail Hydra.” Linda heard it and plastered a smirk on her face before the elevator door opens, Steve and Linda gets off but she turns around, “Bye Rumlow.” Linda waves seductively winking at Brock making everyone smirk at the blushing Brock.

Once they were out of listening range Steve tried to communicate with Tony but failed.

“Tony, what's going on? Tell me you found that cube.” Steve said when he looks up and sees 2012 Steve standing there. “Oh, you gotta be shitting me.”

“I have eyes on Loki. 14th floor.” 2012 Steve said then looking at Linda.

“Steve whats going on? I am confused.” Linda pretends to act confused looking back at Steve to 2012 Steve.

“Linda stand back, that's Loki.” 2012 Steve said.

“I am not Loki. And I don't wanna hurt you.” Steve said putting down the case when they both go head to head smashing their shields together and engaged in a duel when 2012 Steve knocks Steve over.

��I can do this all day.” 2012 Steve said making Linda snicker under her breathe.

“Yeah, I know. I know.” Steve said rolling his eyes at 2012 himself and Linda throwing his shield at 2012 self which also threw his causing both to clash and drop down. Linda was having a blast watching not 1 but 2 Steve battle each other out staring at both their ‘America ass’ fight in a hand in hand battle smashing the case over the rail, she runs over attempting to grab it but it falls not long after the 2 boys fall down smashing through the glass pane. Linda winces every time the boys fall down further and further until they reach the ground floor.

Linda took her time jumping down the stairs gracefully walking over to the boys as 2012 Steve puts Steve in a headlock. “Bucky is alive.” Steve told 2012 Steve making him let Steve go. Linda grabs the septeure and stuns 2012 Steve before he collapses on the ground out cold.

“You could have helped me you know.” Steve groans standing up.

“I know but what fun in that when I can watch 2 america’s ass fight.” Linda said holding up 2 fingers to Steve's face before walking away from Steve.

“That is America ass.” Linda heard Steve say before shaking her head laughing at him.

#bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes #sebastian stan #steve rogers #sebastian x reader #the first avenger #originl character #chris evans #original character #winter soldier #winter solider x you #captain america #infinity war #avengers #endgame #marvel

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