#stern’s winter attire is really adorable

[zero-aurion]

A commission made by the ever amazing @katelynntheg, this time of Yuuno Scrya and Materiel-S/Stern.

[crescent-yoon]

only in my lucid dreams

Part 3

★ Seojun's POV ★

all i could hear beneath my feet was the crunching of snow. it snowed heavily the previous night, making it difficult for me if i had chosen to ride my bike. i was finally coming back to this school after so long and i was nervous. nervous to see you outside of these dreams.

your eyes were just as i had seen them every night - dim yet warm and full of life - as you had set your eyes on me with that brightness that was only shown to me. your hair down and eyes full of wonder as always. when i saw you in these dreams, you had always looked as beautiful as ever. even if you were just simply wearing a pair of ripped jeans and an oversized hoodie. ever so rarely wearing something out of the ordinary for you.

even last night you had worn the clothes that seemed to give you the most comfort, while i had wanted so desperately to show you my uniform. the colors that should've been recognizable to both you and i, sparking your curiosity. sparking that wonder in your eyes.

"why are you wearing that?" you asked as curiosity had played on your face. "it's... a bit different from your usual attire, Seojun."

i couldn't help but to mentally adore how that expression made you look so.. cute.

"yes, well, my mom is a bit sick so my sister and i need to switch schools." i tilted my head to the side just a bit, hoping to give off the cockiest of smirks only for a mix of sincerity and playfulness to show in my expression. "why? are you happy that we're going to the same school, Y/n?"

"so happy i could have a heart attack right now from the overwhelming joy that i'm feeling right now?" you playfully rolled your eyes at me as i gave you a light shove in response, just as we had always done whenever we were enjoying each other's company.

"yeah, yeah. no need to go overboard." i laughed as i took your hand into my own. your hand was cold yet comforting at the same time. it had always been this way as i had kept my thoughts, wondering if you had seen me as a man. "besides, i used to attend this school but things got crazy in my life so i had to move away."

"makes sense, i suppose." everytime you always had little to say, but you never strayed away from me. you did zone out constantly and always made me wonder about the gears turning in your head.

"i know that it's a bit strange but.. do you see me as a man or just a figment of your imagination?" i had asked, truly curious. unfortunately for me, you were so zoned out that you hadn't heard a single word.

"earth to Y/n?" i playfully and softly tapped the bottom of your chin to gain your attention as i had always done. "clearly you weren't listening but i asked you if you-"

you disappeared as i was going to ask again and that had only meant that you had woken up. i was going to get ready for the day too when another dream had started.

i saw you in our school uniform, presumably on your way home after school. you were walking alone unsuspectingly when two huge men had grabbed ahold of you and tried to shove you into a dark looking van. i couldn't hear anything in this dream but one of the guys lips had read, "whether we have to threaten her or threaten you, your mother owes us money and we'll just keep hold of you until she finally pays up."

immediately without hesitation, i felt my feet running. of course i'd run to you. i had to save you. but just as i got close, the ringing of my alarm clock had sounded and i had to get ready for school, that dream set in my mind.

the sight, the feeling, the sounds. all of it felt unbelievably... real.

snapping out of my thoughts, i had walked past the snow covered trees towards the school gates. until i had seen... you. i'm glad that you were still okay which had only meant the event was something that would happen in the future, keeping this in mind, i would discreetly keep an eye on you. even as i remembered the dream before that.

the feel of your hand in mine, the racing of my heart, the curiosity on your face. every bit of it felt so surreal. why is it you, y/n? why do you keep appearing in my dreams like this? at first... at first i thought that you were only meant to be a figment of my imagination. someone that i had made up in spite of my loneliness.

but then the dreams had kept occurring and it all felt too real. especially when i had seen you in real life, in the real world. you hadn't noticed me as you had that zoned expression on your face, unaware that you had brushed my shoulder. that familiar warm, tingly sensation had been felt all over my body. it was really you. and i knew your weren't my imagination when i had heard you lost in thought mumbling the words of "who are you" and "why are we connected, han seojun?".

even now, you looked exactly like you did in my dreams. there was no way that this could all just be... an eery coincidence. but when our eyes met, i knew. i knew that we were connected somehow.

should i approach you? no, i'd look strange. should i pretend as if i had never seen you before? but i had seen you before, in person and in my dreams.

then i had noticed it.

i noticed that unlike me, you weren't wearing a winter coat, though the snow continued to gently land on your eyelashes and melt on your cheeks and nose, a slight shiver coming over your body.

those same warm eyes, they were filled with familiarity and they made me wonder. do you recognize me? you seemed to.

i was going to muster up the courage to approach you until a friend had dragged me away with the ring of the bell.

snapping out of my thoughts and out of the cold weather, i'd been dragged to 2b and there our gazes met again.

i don't know what you were doing but suddenly i had seen you put your hands to the temples of your forehead. at first i had thought you had gotten a headache until i realized. you were concentrating really hard on something. i realized that you're acting just as i did when i realized you were real, probably thinking you had some sort of super power and that thought was so funny that it had me holding back laughter.

"um.. are you okay, y/n?" Suho had asked you as Jugyeong felt your forehead to check your temperature. Their concern had made it even harder to hold back my laughter.

"ahaha, yes, well." you had looked down until you had turned around and saw me laughing.

"so weird." i shook my head, genuinely trying to stop laughing but you looked so much like a confused puppy that it was hard to stop. "what are you even doing, Y/n?"

"huh?" your head tilted in confusion. "how do you-"

i hadn't even realized that i had let your name slip from my mouth. of course i shouldn't have been able to know your name without ever truly meeting you, right? trying to find my way out of the situation, i had remembered that every student had to wear a plated name tag on their shirt.

"nametag." i pointed at the silver plated pin on your jacket. creating a quiet atmosphere before looking out into the hallway from the classroom window with a clearing of my throat.

suddenly i had felt a hard pinch on the back of my neck and it hurt badly. it was almost as if you were trying to make sure i was real. i wanted to ask you why you did that in a calm manner but it had hurt so bad that i had scolded you with a stern and slightly raised voice saying, "why? what do you want so bad that you have to pinch me on my neck like that?"

not realizing a had lowered the volume of our chattering classmates, their eyes all turned in our direction. you very quietly and quickly apologized as you headed back to your seat. i has realized that i had probably embarrassed you. i wanted to apologize but before i could, our teacher had walked in and began class. even with the teacher starting class, my eyes only lingered on you.

the day had been over with and as the students began piling out of the building, i noticed that the snowfall had gotten worse and thought about how you hadn't worn a jacket to school today. amongst all my thoughts, i had also remembered that dream. the one where you had been in danger and i don't think that i could've allowed you to walk home. especially because you had told me once in a dream that you had lived alone.

when you had began taking a step forward, i decided to stop you and had pulled you into my chest.

"Han Seojun?" you looked up in surprise at me, those sparkling eyes staring at me once again. "what's wrong?"

"i know it's a bit weird of me to request something of you when we just met but i need you to trust me." i frowned, taking off my jacket and wrapping it around you seeing as that i couldn't stand to see you cold, teeth slightly chattering. "don't go home today. i need you to come with me."

i didn't really expect you to go with me. after all, you only knew me inside of these dreams we shared. who were you to trust a stranger. but then i saw this determined nod you gave and i felt my heart racing as you had told me-

"i trust you"

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

[mariequitecontrarie]

All of Me: Chapter 16

The Fic: Belle French is a pudgy librarian who’s in love from afar with “town monster” and ace reporter, Mr. Gold. Little does she know, he’s head-over-heels in love with her, too. Chapter Summary: Belle and Emma go shopping in Portland to prepare for a big night out with Gold and Neal at the Storybrooke Winter Gala. Emma runs into an old high school rival and shares a secret. Rating: T A/N: Guys, it’s been 84 years! Much love to @galactic-pirates and @magnoliatattoo for putting up with me. Artwork by the talented @wizzygold @a-monthly-rumbelling: “I’m not dressed for this.”

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | 

Stay with Me (bet. Ch 9&10) | Spiked Chocolate (bet. Ch 16&17) | Pieces of Me (Q&A)

ON AO3

“The quickest way to know a woman is to go shopping with her.” - Marcelene Cox

***Three weeks after Belle has moved out of her parents’ house and into Marco’ s.***

Belle picked up the telephone to call Gold at the newspaper, her day planner spread open on the desk.

Yes, it was old-fashioned, writing things down on a calendar and lugging the thick planner around in her bag, but she liked old-fashioned. She liked books, and fountain pens, and the rustle of paper—both crisply new and faded with age. Besides, she didn’t trust iPhone calendar apps.

She’d forgotten Daddy and Edith’s anniversary one too many times thanks to those finicky electronic calendars. Whenever it happened, she rushed to write a card at the last minute but instead of being grateful, Edith seemed to enjoy shaming her for “neglecting her family.” Personally, Belle felt anniversaries were about the couple celebrating each other…but her thoughts were veering way off course. If she ventured down the dark road of worrying over Edith, she could end up in bed with a box of snowball cakes for the rest of the day.

But falling into depression was less likely now that she no longer called her father and Edith’s house home. After three weeks of living with Marco, there was no denying how much better she felt; the freedom of coming and going as she pleased was a heady sensation. Sometimes Gold joined her at Marco’s house in the evening and the three of them played Scrabble together. Once, she had insisted Marco not cook dinner after cooking at the restaurant all day long and dragged him to Emma’s house for a family dinner where Henry chattered about school and his friends and made everyone laugh until their sides ached. 

But most often, Marco would come home from the restaurant and the two of them would eat a pasta and salad dinner, and then spend the evening in the comfortable quiet of his small, cozy living room. His overstuffed couch and chairs were such a contrast to the hard, slick leather furniture Edith filled her house with, and Belle loved sinking into the corner of Marco’s huge couch and covering up with a fluffy throw blanket.

Sometimes they would make small talk about their days but on most evenings, Marco would be bent over a notebook making notes for the next day’s specials at the restaurant, and she would pull out her laptop to research books to add to the library. Usually, either the Cooking Channel or HGTV played in the background. She’d had an older television in her bedroom at her parents’ but no cable connection. Marco, however, had a new flatscreen and Belle indulged in her love of watching House Hunters International, which combined two of her favorite pastimes: seeing home interiors and a peek at exotic destinations.

Gone were the days of being chased into her bedroom, hiding her diary, and hoarding snacks. Some days, the years spent in Edith and her dad’s frosty household seemed like a bad dream. 

At least twice a week, Belle offered to pay Marco rent. It didn’t seem right to eat his food and live in his space and offer nothing in return. But he refused every time she asked. “No,” he had said this morning over breakfast, flipping eggs with a stubborn twist of his lips. “We are family, Bella. La famiglia. And when life is hard, family is a soft place to land.” Her eyes had burned with grateful tears, but she kissed his cheek and ate her breakfast and let him fuss over her until they went their separate ways—he to the restaurant and her to the library.

Besides, she thought as she punched in Gold’s number, she didn’t have time for wallowing.

She needed to talk to Gold about the annual Storybrooke Winter Gala today. On impulse, Neal had bought four tickets and insisted he and Emma and Belle and Gold make a double date of the occasion. He’d even arranged for their next-door neighbor, Ana, to watch Henry.

Every December, the Mayor’s Office hosted the gala to benefit the city schools. This year, all proceeds would go toward school Arts programs—music, theatre, writing, and art workshops. Emma and Gold usually attended every year, Gold to cover the event for the Times and Emma to capture photographs to accompany the story. Belle had never been invited to the ball before, though, and she wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Part of her didn’t want to be seen in public with so many shiny glossy people she couldn’t measure up to, but another side of her was excited to play princess for an evening.

She glanced again at the date and punched in Gold’s phone number. Today was Friday, November 16th. Thanksgiving was next week, which meant the gala was only three weeks away. There wasn’t much time to get ready. Finding a dress could be difficult and she would probably need to take it to a tailor, too. The thought of shopping for formalwear made her palms begin to sweat.

“Gold,” he answered on the first ring.

“What are you wearing?” she asked in a rush, followed by a breathless pause.

He answered with a laugh, the deep, rich sound making her spine tingle. She imagined him setting down the newspaper proof he was holding to turn in his chair to peer out the window toward the library. Since her office was in the back of the building he couldn’t actually see her, but she felt the admiring burn of his eyes all the same.

She heard a rustling sound as he set down the pages. When they talked or spent time together, he always gave her his full attention. It was certainly a refreshing change from Sean distractedly glancing at her during one of his marathon video game sessions and asking her to repeat what she’d said for the third time.

“A naughty call in the middle of the workday?” Gold drawled into the phone. “Sweetheart, men dream of these sorts of calls from their girlfriends. It’s not even my birthday.”

Belle blushed. She hadn’t stopped to think how awkward the question would sound out of context, but now that it was out, she teased him right back. “Mmmm nothing naughty to say today but just wait till it is your birthday,” she said. “Now that you mention it…”

“Yes?” He drew out the word, filling it with expectation and making her giggle.

She could almost see him leaning forward across the desk, a mischievous gleam in those caramel eyes.

“When is your birthday?”

“January 14th,” he answered promptly. “And tell Marco I prefer ice cream cake.”

“You prefer every cake,” she shot back, smiling into the phone. When it came to baked goods, Gold had an enormous sweet tooth. “But I think it can be arranged.”

“That’s excellent news. Just don’t tell Marco how many candles to put on it because the thing will be melted before we have a chance to slice it.”

Belle knew he was still self-conscious about the difference in their ages. She also knew exactly how to soothe him when he worried. “Then it’s a good thing I prefer mature men.”

“Indeed,” he said, sounding pleased.

She flipped her planner forward and marked his birthday on the calendar in bold, red ink, surrounding the date with fat, bright hearts. The birthday of the man she loved was an important day—far more worth remembering than the wedding date of her stuffy stepmother and emotionally unavailable father. At least she knew Marco wouldn’t snoop through her things and read her planner or her diary. But she was digressing again.

“Now, back to my question,” she ordered, feigning sternness. 

“You have my full attention, General French.”

She laughed and rubbed the thick holiday gala invitation between her fingers. Its embossed gold lettering and sprigs of holly in metallic ink screamed expensive. Everyone knew the Storybrooke Winter Gala was the social event of the season. From the chilled seafood towers bursting with crab claws and lobster tails to the elegant champagne cocktails, no expense would be spared.

Belle fanned her warm cheeks with the cardstock, her clammy fingers leaving damp smudges at the top of the matte stationery. “The invite says formal attire, but you’re almost always formal. Were you thinking suit or tuxedo?”

 “At the moment, I’m in my usual. I did opt for the socks with the turkeys today as a nod to next Thursday.”

Belle giggled and dragged her teeth over her lower lip. His Thanksgiving socks were adorable and he was being terribly sweet in his attempts to put her at ease. She wanted to go to the gala, but she didn’t want to look like a country bumpkin who had never been anywhere. Gold had attended fancy dinners and parties all over the world. He’d been to a State Dinner with the President, for goodness sake, while Belle had never ventured beyond the Portland city limits. “You know what I mean. It’s not like we can show up in sweatpants and be all ‘sorry, I’m not dressed for this.’” Oh, how she wished.

“Sweetheart, you can wear anything you like. You’re gorgeous no matter what you have on. That said, I’m not really the proper person to offer advice on evening gown selections. Why don’t you talk to Emma?”

She sighed. “Honey, I have talked to Emma. We’re both going shopping and we both need to know. It’s not like we can ask Neal for guidance.” Exasperated, she pushed a curl off her forehead, wondering why she had to explain this. “You know what he’s like. Emma said, ‘Neal would dust corn chips off his construction clothes, zip a hoodie sweatshirt over it, and head out the door.’ That’s a direct quote, by the way.”

Gold burst out laughing. “Sounds like my boy. I’ll make sure he’s dressed appropriately.”

“Anyway,” she continued, “there’s not much of a boutique circuit here in Storybrooke and I’m not exactly a candidate for Rent the Runway.” She sucked in the inside of her cheek as soon as those last words were out. Since they’d started dating, she’d been making a concerted effort not to say self-deprecating things about herself. At least not out loud.

Gold hadn’t seemed to notice her negativity, though.

“Which would you prefer I wear? Tux or suit?”

The image of whirling on the dance floor with Gold in a sleek black tuxedo was doing crazy things to her insides. “Tux,” she said in a breathless whisper. “Tux sounds good.”

“Tux it shall be then. And Belle?”

“Yes?” She was still picturing Gold in black tie and her stomach was doing gymnastics.

“Love,  I meant what I said: you’re gorgeous no matter what you wear. We’re going to the gala so we can dance and eat shrimp cocktail and support the Arts, not so you’ll worry over competing with silly girls and stupid women who wouldn’t know true beauty if it ran over them with a sleigh.”

“I wish you and Emma and Neal were going to be the only ones there,” she murmured, feeling silly. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t known about the gala and been given every opportunity to decide against going. The event had been on the calendar for weeks, yet the closer it came the more she fretted about fitting in. An inexplicable craving for belonging tightened her chest.

Gold hummed into the phone. “This is about more than a dress, isn’t it, sweetheart?”

She closed her eyes and took a deep, slow breath, letting the weight of his understanding settle over her like a comforting mantle. Her head lolled forward until her forehead rested upon the top of her desk. The smooth, cool grain of the wood felt good against her flushed skin and she forced out another lungful of air. Gold didn’t deserve to be at the wrong end of her short fuse. She tried to tell herself she belonged at the gala because he’d invited her, but the heart didn’t always believe the head—no matter how sensible the head was being.

“It matters to me that I at least look like I belong, even if it isn’t true,” she admitted.

Gold was quiet for a long moment. “It is true, sweetheart. For as long as I draw breath, you will always have a place to belong. If Marco, Emma, Neal, and Henry were here, I know each of them would say the same. I also know it’s going to take more than hearing the words to make you believe it. You have to know the truth deep down. I love you so much, and I only hope and pray that one day you’ll see yourself the way we see you.”

Belle pressed her lips together, muffling a sob. “Thank you for understanding,” she whispered tearfully. “I love you.”

“It’s nearly five. I’m coming over to the library.” Through the phone, she heard the distinctive click of his pocket watch as he snapped it closed. “When I get there, I’m going to kiss you till you’re breathless, then take you out for a nice, quiet dinner, just the two of us. How does that sound?”

Belle smiled and wiped her tears and her worries away with a tissue from the box on her desk. “It sounds perfect.”

“So we’re here.” Emma sucked down the dregs of her iced latte in a noisy slurp and wiped her hands on her black jeans. “Portland. Boutique Row. What do we do now?” She tossed the cup in the trash can inside the door.

Like aliens on a foreign planet, they hovered inside the doorway of Posh, the largest formal boutique in the city.

Belle eyed Emma suspiciously. “I thought you said you knew about shopping.”

“Yeah, for denim and dry fit. Where to get the best doughnuts. And the occasional piece of leather. Not evening gowns.”

“But you’ve been to this gala before?” she pressed.

“Yeah, as the photographer. No one pays attention to what you’re wearing when you’re behind the camera. I got away with black pants and a dress shirt three years running.”

Belle looked her friend up and down. Perspiration was dotting Emma’s temples. Her cheeks, ruddy from the winter air outside just moments ago, were ashen. She knew that deer-in-headlights look: Emma was on the verge of an anxiety attack.

Belle ran her teeth over her lower lip, discouragement slithering around her and squeezing the air from her lungs. “Are we in trouble?”

“It’s possible,” Emma acknowledged, then shook her head hard enough to cause her ponytail to sway. “No. No! We’re two grown women. We can handle one small town formal.”

“You make it sound like war,” Belle said wryly.

“It’s worse. Other women. Rich, polished, cold as ice.” She rolled her eyes at a chic blonde dripping in Chanel and carrying a Louis Vuitton handbag bigger than Belle’s suitcase. “Maybe we should invest in suits of armor.”

“Or maybe we should eat them for supper.”

Emma snorted, their laughter breaking the tension. It was rare for Emma to be intimidated, and Belle patted her shoulder. Misery loved company, and somehow knowing she wasn’t alone in her insecurity gave her hope for more than the hunt for an evening gown. “We can do this, as long as we do it together.”

Emma’s reached for Belle’s hand and squeezed. “Right. Together is better.”

”Exactly.”

Emma gave a long, slow whistle and they moved into the store like two people tied together in a three-legged race. “Where should we start?” Belle stared at the array of gowns and began to shuffle through the racks, heading in the direction of the plus sizes. She’d come here expecting to have maybe two choices in style but after a few minutes of browsing, to her surprise, there were many gowns in her size—short and long, tight and flowing, beaded and glittery. And though she hadn’t tried on a solitary dress, she was still convinced there wasn’t one in all of Portland designed to flatter her physique. In one fell swoop, she’d gone from zero choices to too many. So many dresses, so little time, and so much Belle.

Even the eggnog lattes and cream-stuffed doughnuts she and Emma had feasted on in the car on the way here left her feeling hollow. She was at her worst at formal events—the last one she’d been to was her high school senior prom and not one person had asked her to dance. She’d gone stag simply so she didn’t have to sit in the house with her father and Edith. With the exception of going to the refreshment table to sneak brownies, she had sat in the corner the entire time.

But she wasn’t in high school any longer. She had a handsome escort in Gold and friends to spend the evening with. The steeply priced gala tickets had already been purchased and paid for and supporting the Arts in their schools? She couldn’t think of a more excellent cause. Besides, backing out three weeks before the event was paramount to announcing you had no interest in seeing Hamilton. It simply wasn’t done.

She squinted in the direction of the lingerie. Spanx were what she needed—something to suck her in and smooth her out—injected with industrial-strength elastic.

“Black. Black is the slimming choice,” Belle decided aloud, pushing through the rack toward a plain A-line silk sheath gown.

At least if she stuck to basic black, she and Gold would match. Like two penguins. One sleek and sophisticated, the other round and plump, carrying a lot of blubber around to make it through the hard, cold, South Pole winter.

“No black! Black is the safe choice,” Emma countered, smacking Belle’s hand when she reached for the hanger on another simple, nondescript black gown with clean lines.

“And that’s bad why?”

“Because it’s drab and washes you out. Go for color. Like gold.”

“Suddenly you’re a Pantone expert?” Belle winced. “A gold dress? Isn’t that a touch…cliché?”

“Alright. We’ll keep looking.”

Belle nudged Emma in the direction of a tall, willow-thin woman with striking black and grey hair and the pointiest red stilettos she’d ever seen. “Maybe we should ask someone. I think she works here.”

Emma squinted and slid more dresses down the rack. “The one with the scarf on?”

“It’s a poncho.” She knew that much.

“Wait! Wait! Try this emerald one! Gold will go crazy when he sees you in this!” Emma whipped a dazzling, jewel-toned gown with a daring thigh-high slit off the rack. Belle stared at the stunning gown then glanced back at the saleswoman. “Five minutes ago you didn’t know anything about dresses.” “You’re right, I don’t. But I know my father-in-law and he’s going to love that dress. Well, he’d love you in a life-sized paper bag, but this dress will make even Mr. Smart Ass Newspaper Dude speechless. God, I can picture him drooling already!” She thrust the dress into Belle’s arms and gave her a playful shove. “Go try it on. And remember, the only person who has to know how beautiful you are…”

“Is me,” Belle finished. They’d had this conversation often during their walks over the past few months, and Emma had reminded her yet again on the two-hour drive here. She fingered the rich velvet skirt with trembling fingers. Now she had to walk the walk. “I’ll try it. What color are you looking for?” she asked, backing into the fitting room.

“Black.” “Emma!” she whined.

Emma yanked the fitting room curtain closed with a laugh. The dress was crushed velvet with full-length sleeves, hard to find, even in the middle of a brutal Maine winter. She slid into the gown, the silk-lined velvet feeling decadent against her skin. Even without the back completely zipped, she liked the look. Emma was right, she realized, turning this way and that in the three-way mirror.

The scoop neck hugged her shoulder blades, emphasizing her thinnest feature—her shoulders—and the color made her blue eyes sparkle and skin creamy even under the garish fluorescent fitting room lights. It was a few inches too long for her 5-foot, 1-inch frame, but the skirt length was easily remedied at a tailor. Not hating it, she took a deep breath, lifted the skirt so she wouldn’t trip, and opened the curtain. She hoped Emma was nearby because she didn’t want to make a spectacle of herself. Those stupid little fitting room closets were designed to thrust you back out onto the floor where commission-hungry salespeople could tell you how good you looked and convince you to buy.

“Em,” she called out, “could you zip—” She swallowed the rest of her words. Emma was face-to-face with a dark-haired woman, and looking even more nervous than she had when they walked into the boutique. “Emma? Emma Nolan?” The stranger wore a smart navy pantsuit and a light blue silk blouse, and her blood-red lips spread in a wide smile. Everything about her, from her perfectly coifed hair to her buffed, nude pumps, screamed suave and important.

“Yeah, who’s asking?” “It’s me, Regina Mills. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten. We graduated together from Storybrooke High! I sat next to you in Mr. Walsh’s English class.” “Oh, hey.” Emma kicked the carpet with her boot, looking anything but thrilled to meet an old high school friend. “Good to see you. You remember Belle French, I’m sure. She graduated the year after us.” Regina frowned at Belle, making a small scar on her upper lip stand out. “Sorry, doesn’t ring a...bell.” “It’s fine. We didn’t really travel in the same social circles anyway,” Belle said.  Regina pouted, as if trying to decide if Belle’s remark was a put-down.

Well, she could interpret the comment however she wished. Belle didn’t care for the change that had come over Emma since Regina had appeared or the barely-veiled insult that she wasn’t worth remembering. Now that she’d had a good look at her, she remembered Regina well enough. Then again, it was hard to forget the most popular girl to ever come out of Storybrooke High School. Student body president, prom queen, and girlfriend of Daniel Colter, captain of the football team. Belle would have called her a high school cliché, except that Regina had carried her smooth, flawless reputation into adulthood. She was still the most beautiful woman Belle had ever seen close-up.  “I’m just in town for meetings today. I’m an attorney and planning to run for office next term.” Regina’s frozen smile was back in business. “I’m thinking start small with state Senate and work up from there. So, Emma, what have you been up to since graduation? I haven’t seen you since we walked across the stage.” “Um, well.” Emma shoved her hands in her pockets and looked toward the racks of dresses. “Emma is a gifted photographer,” Belle said, sliding to her friend’s side. If Emma wasn’t going to boast about her accomplishments, she sure as hell was going to do it for her. “How exciting!” Regina’s grin was wolfish, her dark eyes sparkling. “Are you exhibiting your portraits at any galleries?” “Uh…” Emma looked at the floor. “No time,” Belle put in. “Right, Em? You’re much too busy with your son, Henry and your husband, Neal.” “Oooh, a husband.” Regina’s eyes flashed again, reminding Belle of a shark circling its prey. “Is he a doctor?” “Nope.” “Hmmm.” She tapped a red nail against her jaw. “A lawyer then?” “He’s in construction,” Emma said, looking to Belle for help. “For your information, he runs his own construction company. He’s built most of Storybrooke’s new buildings in the last ten years.” Belle glared at Regina, daring her to make another cutting remark. “So he’s a working man,” she said, managing to make the term sound neither positive nor negative. “Yeah. Yeah. He’s great.” Emma’s laugh was feeble and she ducked her head.  Regina clapped her hands. “This has been fun, catching up. We should do this again sometime.” She flashed another gorgeous, winning smile, and moved in the direction of the lingerie. “Best of luck on the campaign trail,” Belle called after her. Waiting until Regina was out of earshot, Belle whirled on Emma. “Excuse me, but what the hell was that?”

“Never mind. We have shopping to do.” Emma cleared her throat and tried to slide past her, but Belle held her ground.

“The shopping can wait. Who died and crowned Regina Mills queen?”

Belle had zero patience for people who clambered for social standing and pronounced themselves better than others. Having been so often on the receiving end of other people’s sarcasm, Belle rarely talked down to people. But standing up to bullies didn’t count. Something about watching Emma cower in front of Regina caused an angry fire to blaze in her belly. Maybe she was lousy at defending herself, but she’d be damned if she’d let anyone walk all over her friend. Emma shrugged and studied the dresses. She was pretending not to care about the awkward encounter, but Belle knew better. “I don’t like small talk. ‘Hi. How are you?’ she parroted. ‘Oh, I’m fine, how are you?’ News flash: nobody’s fine.”

“Em…”

“No matter how she makes it sound, Regina and I weren’t friends in high school, we were competitors.” She rolled her eyes. “She reminisces about Mr. Walsh’s English class like that was the only time we saw each other. I guess she forgot about the four years we spent one-upping each other on the cheerleading squad, softball team, and the debate team. Always trying to be smarter, stronger, and skinnier than the other. We were out for blood.”

“Then why are you letting her get under your skin?”

Emma sighed and pulled on her ponytail. “You know Cora Mills?”

“Cora Mills, the mayor? Of course.” Belle suppressed a shudder.

Regina’s mother, Cora, had been mayor of Storybrooke for as long as Belle could remember. Cora was a cold, calculating woman, but what she lacked in lovable qualities, she made up for in efficiency. She ran Storybrooke like a machine and no one could argue with her methods, not even Gold, who was paid to search out everything. From the few times Belle had met her, she realized Cora wasn’t mean so much as devoid of emotion.  Beyond a perfunctory review of the library budget once a year, Belle was fortunate to rarely communicate with the Mayor’s Office and even when she did, it was strictly emails between Belle and Cora’s assistant. The library and its services were beneath Cora’s notice; so long as Belle didn’t ask for too much money, she stayed under her radar—which was exactly the way she liked it.

Emma wandered to a bench next to the row of fitting rooms and plopped down. “My mom always wanted to be like her, you know.”

“Really?” Belle would never have expected sweet, kind Mary Margaret Nolan to want to emulate Cora Mills.

Emma smirked. “Once, a long time ago, Mom even tried bidding against her for Mayor but she was too nice. She was laughed out of the first debate, and it’s a good thing because the town would have walked all over her. Since Mom couldn’t be like Cora, she decided the next best thing would be for me to be like Cora’s daughter, Regina. I spent every day of high school trying to beat Regina for one reason: because my mom couldn’t beat hers.”

“Wow,” Belle said. “I would never have known. Your mom is such a great teacher and your parents are like a fairytale marriage. Talk about relationship goals.”

“Exactly. The thing with my mom is she’s incredible just as she is,” she said. “Former prom queen, straight-A student, a born teacher. She’s smart and pretty and married to the perfect, charming husband. And she loves Storybrooke—but not for me.”

“But your parents live in Storybrooke.” Confused, Belle furrowed her brow. “That seems like a bit of a double-standard.”

“Yeah.” Emma shook her head. “’Why do you want to take pictures of engaged couples and local pet adoptions?’ she said, mimicking her mother’s innocent tone. “She would rather I was out on the front lines of some war documenting the dying.” “Like Gold used to?” Belle nodded in sympathy and claimed the empty side of the bench. She knew all too well the feeling of being expected to be someone you couldn’t be and dashing parental hopes in the process. “She feels like you shouldn’t be satisfied with a simple life.” “Bingo! And she resents the hell out of Gold for telling me what it’s really like out there. I think that’s why I’m closer to him now than I am my own parents. He understands weakness and failure in a way I don’t think they can. I’m not some conceited little bitch who’s hiding in the bathroom to throw up everything she eats to fit in anymore, but sometimes that really sucks, you know?”

“Yeah, I do.” Belle’s heart clenched in sympathy. Sometimes she still got sucked into the vortex of her own self-pity and forgot that everyone—even gorgeous, wonderful Emma—was fighting a battle. Trying to be yourself was hard work. It was so much easier to toe the line of people’s expectations, to do and say what made others feel comfortable and safe. “So there’s Regina, first conquering the state of Maine, then the world.” Emma put her head in her hands. “And here I am...not running for a spot even on the PTO. Married with a kid and pregnant again.” “You’re pregnant?” Belle slung an arm around Emma and dragged her against her side in an awkward hug. “Oh, sweetie, that’s amazing!” “Ya think? Emma sniffled but looked hopeful for the first time since they had entered the boutique. “Really? I wasn’t expecting another baby. It just happened.”

“Henry is going to be a big brother!” Belle squealed, excited enough for both of them. “Does your mom know yet?”

“Are you kidding?” “What did Neal say?”

Emma shook her head and touched her belly. “You’re the first soul I’ve told.”

“Me?” Belle crowded closer to Emma and drew her head down on her shoulder. She smoothed Emma’s hair back from her temples, soothing her the way her mother used to when she was little while she tried to process the news. To think she was the first to know about the new addition coming to the Cassidy household. She hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’ve ever been first in someone else’s confidence. At least not...well there’s Gold, of course.” She felt Emma nod against her shoulder. “I know what you mean. I’ve had friends. Acquaintances. Then when I met Neal he satisfied any need I had for friends. He’s a great husband and I love him to pieces, but it’s not like this. Like us. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Belle.”

“Me too,” she said, tears scalding her eyes. She’d known it was true—had felt the stirrings of their bond deep in her spirit ever since their first real conversation at Henry’s birthday clambake. Between family dinners, walks, and girls nights out, the invisible force between them only grown stronger. Somehow acknowledging their friendship out loud made it seem more solid. Precious. As important to her as her love for Gold, but in a different way.

“Now stand up,” Emma said, fishing into her pocket for a crumpled tissue. “I wanna see this dress!”

Belle shot to her feet and smoothed the skirt, her fingers fluttering around the waist and hips while Emma zipped up the back.

“I love it,” she said, motioning for Belle to twirl around.

“Really? You don’t think it makes me look like a medieval strumpet?”

“Hell no!” Emma whistled as Belle turned around again. “You’re stunning. All we need now are Spanx and shoes. And maybe some lingerie for the after-party?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Maybe.” Belle’s face flamed at the thought of wearing a negligee for Gold. “What about you?”

“We’ll get to me after lunch.” She patted her still-flat tummy. “There’s a place down the street serving yummy cheese-covered waffle fries and this kid wants some now.”

Belle’s stomach growled in answer. “Lead the way.”

Their waiter was clearing the lunch plates at the café when Belle heard a knock on the window. She did a double-take as her father waved through the glass with a sheepish smile. Her turkey club sandwich, which had tasted so delicious a few minutes ago, now lodged in her stomach. What was he doing here in the city?

“I’ll grab the check, Belle. You go talk to him,” Emma urged. “If I see things are getting bad I’ll come outside and rescue you.”

Nodding, she gathered her coat and made her way outside, wondering what would bring her father looking for her in Portland of all places, when she hadn’t seen him once on the streets of Storybrooke in the three weeks since she’d moved out.

The air was frigid even in the sunshine, and she seemed to grow colder with every step she took toward her father.

“Daddy?” She wrapped her arms around herself to keep from reaching for a hug. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s the Portland flower show.” He brushed a bit of pollen off the sleeve of his coat. “I was in the neighborhood and saw you having lunch in the window.” “Ah.” Her dad attended the vendor-focused flower exhibition every year. She should have prepared for the possibility of running into him in town, but she’d completely forgotten it was this weekend.

“We haven’t heard from you in weeks, darling. Edith was devastated when you collected your things and left us.”

Belle gave a noncommittal grunt and thrust her cold hands in her pockets. Edith was devastated? Perish the thought her own father actually missed her.

“Marco treating you well?”  he asked gruffly.

“Like family,” she retorted, her voice carrying a sharpness she hadn’t intended.

Her father’s face paled and she instantly regretted her tone. There was no call to be so mean-spirited, especially when it somehow succeeded in making her feel worse instead of better.

He sniffed. “Will we see you for Thanksgiving?“

Belle looked into the clear blue sky, distancing herself from his hopeful gaze. "Marco’s cooking a huge feast, so I’ll be eating with him and Gold and the Cassidys.“

“Christmas?“

She blew out an exasperated breath and hugged herself again. “Let’s push through one nightmare holiday at a time, okay?“

He huffed. “I didn’t realize things had gotten so bad.”

“Are we still talking about holidays, or are you referring to other bad situations?” She thought back to the horrible family dinner she’d put Gold through when she’d tossed a roll at Edith’s head and stormed out. “I can’t live like that anymore. I won’t.”

“You’ve changed, Belle. Is this…is this Gold’s influence on you, then?” He seemed to deflate before her eyes, this giant of a man shriveling down to a pathetic shell. “When did you become this way? So stubborn. So willful.” His lips shook as he spoke. “If your mother were alive, she…”

“But she’s not, Daddy,” Belle interrupted. “Mother hasn’t been with us for years. She’s not here to tell you what to do and what to say, and for that matter neither is Edith. You’re the one who changed. It’s as Erskine said, you don’t even see me. Maybe you never did.”

“Belle!” Emma jogged over to the rescue, her breath a white cloud in the cold afternoon air. “Hey, Mister French. We really gotta get going if we’re going to finish shopping and I promised Henry I’d be home in time to tuck him in.”

“Great. I’m freezing anyway.” She looped her arm through Emma’s and mustered a sad, parting smile for her father. After years of trying to gain his attention and approval, she wasn’t sure when she would see him again and at the moment, she didn’t care. “Take care of yourself, Dad.”

###

[shimadatales]

Dude I love your work! Can I request Okami!Hanzo imagine, where he meets human s/o who goes into his forest everyday with their German shepherd dog. Thank you!

Aa, thank you so much! This turned out longer than expected ^^; But I do hope you like it! I put it under a read more because of the length. I also gave it a slightly different twist, but I hope it’s not too bad. Enjoy!

The Mysterious Wanderer

D/N = Dog’s name

Hurriedfootsteps could be heard throughout the woods, the friction of the thick layersof snow evident in their heavy sounds, indicating that the person they belongedto was having quite a difficult time getting to their destination. You wereterribly lost, now that a blizzard had started and you couldn’t help but feelfoolish for not watching the weather report to its end, too impatient to waitand overly excited for the journey ahead. Hiking was your passion, as was yourloyal companion who always joined you, no matter the distance you went or thehigh mountains you climbed. Your furry friend never left your side, its loyaldemeanor being inherited from centuries ago while being by the side of people.D/N had joined you in your home rather unexpectedly in the beginning, as younever really had any intentions on taking in a pet at first and often foundyourself too busy with following your passion. Thinking that having a dog wouldonly slow you down as well as your long and tiring trips probably being toomuch for the creature to handle. However, your assumptions proved to be wrong,as the devoted shepherd acclimated itself rather well to your schedule androutine. You were aware that German shepherds were known for their hard workingand following nature, but you still did not want to burden the pup too muchduring its first days and gradually built up its exercise through the time itspent with you.

The sweetthing also desperately needed a home, as your local shelter was getting morecrowded during the holiday season and your friend, being the overly-emotional-animal-loverthat they are, appeared at your doorstep that faithful day and shoved the smallbundle of joy right into your arms after not even having opened the door for afew seconds. Their words at the time were rather stern but frantic, worry moreevident in their voice rather than anger as they demanded you to take the smallcreature into your home, not listening to any protests you were about to give.At the time, you could only stare at them in confusion at their current stateof distress, but now you couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory. Your friendwas simply being too sensitive again, not being able to take the sight of sucha young and innocent critter being locked behind iron bars, invisible to theoutside world which would not spare it a single glance if possible. You couldn’tcomplain though, as the dog had given you nothing more than joy and happinessduring the time it spent with you. Even during your darkest hours, in which youcontinuously pushed those closest around you away, the dutiful being beside younever wavered and always seemed to waddle into your room where you would besulking, wagging its tail in excitement and pure adoration for you. Thatunconditional love and selflessness was something that only such creatures couldhold, you were quite sure of that now. No matter in what state you would befinding yourself, D/N was never far behind and always managed to get you out ofwhatever dark cloud you were trapped in and for that, you were eternallygrateful for your companion.

If only youcould be of the same help now as it was always for you, the blizzard being toosevere and thick for the senses of the dog beside you and it couldn’t help butwhine in discomfort as the wind started to catch more momentum. “I’m sorry D/N.”You tried to comfort the distressed shepherd with soothing words as well asgiving him a few treats for being so brave and standing strong through this disastrousweather forecast. “I promise to get us out of this snowstorm, but I’m not surehow long it will take.” You eyed D/N for any possible frostbites whilecrouching down to his level. “For now, please eat these. You need your strength.”The canine ate the small pellets in a frenzy, his hunger clearly evident aswell as the slight fear that came with the storm. “Doesn’t seem like it will clear up anytime soon… I hope I can get usboth home safely before we get turned into snow cones.” You thought toyourself as you let out a rather long sigh. Deciding that finding shelter forthe moment would be the most sensible thing to do and also the foremost thing,as time was crucial for your survival right now, you got up on your two feetagain and gave D/N a few pets between his pointy ears, a signal that you twowould be continuing on your way again.

As you keptpassing by the dying trees of winter, you noticed that there was barelyanything you could hide yourself in around you, the forest being foggedcompletely by the rapidly moving snow, making it extremely difficult to seeclearly. Anyone who would be living in this particular forest, would become thebravest of all men by far and you suddenly regretted your decision to even comeout into these woods altogether. Again, it was curiosity that eventually killedthe cat, although hopefully not, in your case. While your own mind was driftingoff towards more worst case scenario’s, your companion suddenly came to a haltand started growling into the distance. Fearing it might have smelled a bear orsomething bigger, you quickly unlocked your knife from your safety belt in self-defense,hoping it would be enough to scare it off. You knew that bears were in no wayaggressive, but rather territorial, so you had no intention of hurting any ofthem, but neither did you want them to hurt you instead if you could preventit. However, the shadow that appeared within the blizzard was in no waymatching up to that of a bear, no, this one looked a whole lot smaller andperhaps even… human? How could a person be out in this storm and still lookinglike they were unaffected by it? Perhaps, people really could live here, butthe people for sure would be having way better attire suited for this weather thanmost.

After somerather awkward time of staring at each other, the figure slowly came closer andyou kept your knife held high, in case the person had any questionable motives.Still, it was hard to focus on their movements, as they seemed to be ratherskilled in trudging through these snowstorms, experience clearly noticeable bytheir quick footsteps. They also didn’t seem to be covering their face againstthe blistering cold, like you were at the moment, your point of view being nothingmore than small slits as your arm was raised in front of you to block out thesnow. The more the person came closer, the more restless D/N became at yourside and you were for a moment fearing that it might launch itself at thestranger before you, its maternal instincts kicking in at seeing you in arather helpless state. Yet, its composure seemed to change when a hand suddenlycame to rest gently on its muzzle, strange markings visible on the owner’s handas well as their arm. With a single touch, your companion was unable to moveitself, its ears and eyes still very much alert on the intruding wanderer, butseemingly more relaxed than before and it couldn’t help but sniff cautiously attheir hand, giving it a lick in approval afterwards. How was this strangerbeing able to calm your own dog just like that? Most people would not have beenable to do such a thing, the creature being quite wary of strangers andentirely devoted to you alone. This was no ordinary person and that much becameclear as they finally stepped into your vision, their visage becoming much morevisible now.

It appearsthat the mystery stranger was a man and a rather regal looking one at that. Youcould clearly see he had been living in these woods for quite some time, hiswhole look and outfit being adapted to it. He wore a long fur coat, the shapethat of a wolf, which you assumed to be a trophy of some sort. The intricatepatterns you earlier spotted on his arm also covered parts of his face, a signhe most likely came from some sort of clan or tribe. Lastly, he seemed to carrya bow and quiver as well, a hunter perhaps? You had met a few of those before,but they were often the same boorish and mostly chatty ones as well and onlygot in your way whenever you were trying to get to your next destination, bydistracting you with their flirtatious attempts. This man however, wassomething entirely different. He looked… primitive to say the least and thefact that he was so silent didn’t put your worries more at ease either. The manjust kept staring at you, his dark eyes handsome, but incredibly intimidatingas well while he looked you over. You suddenly felt a bit self-conscious, thinkinghe must be seeing you as a complete fool for coming to this forest and gettinglost like that in the meantime. You couldn’t blame him though, perhaps youshould have taken more precautions before coming here, but right now all ofthat did not matter anymore. If the stranger was could be kind to you today,you hoped he would be able to at least lead you into the right direction, whichwould be to getting straight out of these woods. Through your shock at theperson before you, you failed to notice that you were still pretty much holdingyour knife frantically in front of you, still not trusting the man’s approachthat well.

The trophyhunter was not very amused by your display though and repeated hisministrations from earlier with your companion, as he slowly but confidently, stretchedout his marked arm towards your own, which was currently occupied with holdingthe sharp dagger. Having never actually used your weapon in combat, as it wasmore meant for survival purposes such as cutting ropes and long reeds, you werehighly inexperienced and easily scared off as well whenever a serious threat occurred.For that reason, your arm couldn’t help but shake once the wolf archer’s handcame closer to yours, not being able to move it at all due to the sheer fear ofactually hurting a person with it as well as the pressuring aura of the personbefore you. Just as he did with D/N a few moments prior, the marksman gentlylaid his calloused hand atop your smaller one and swiftly took the blade out ofyour hand, tossing it onto the ground before him afterwards. D/N still did notsense a trace of danger in the man, as the furry creature kept resting soundlyon the ground, his eyes looking attentively at the strong presence near him.Well, you could say you were screwed now and your expression matched yourthoughts quite well as your eyes seemed to almost pop out of their sockets oncethe man was able to disarm you so easily, or rather, how you were able to lethim do so in that manner. As you silently cursed yourself for your weakness,the archer spoke up, his voice gruff but oddly soothing.

“There isno need to point your weapon at me. I am not a threat.” The man spoke andpicked up your knife in the process before inspecting it thoroughly. “Besides, thisblade his highly inappropriate for combat. In fact, it could not even strikedown a bear even if you gave it your best attempt.” He once again turned hisgaze towards you, his striking brown orbs once again consuming your own intotheir deep pools. Even though the man had just expressed his disregard to yourblade, he did not hold any aggression or hatred in his gaze, it seemed morelike a roughed up attempt at giving you advice than trying to mock you. It wasclear that this man had not seen any humans passing by here in a while, hissocial ability at conversation being very limited. You were not any better atthe moment though, as you were still very much in awe over the whole situationas well as extremely cold and uncomfortable because of the cruel weather. You wereunable to speak clearly due to the frost biting at your lips as well as thesnow that was making its way through your boots little by little, the fabricapparently not being strong enough to counter such extreme conditions. Themarksman returned your dagger and stood before you again as he spoke up asecond time. “You are lost, correct?” A surge of hope made its way through yourchest and you suddenly felt slightly warmer as you listened to him, your eyeswidening at his question. Perhaps he did want to help you out and was not hereto fight you as you feared before. You prayed for the former and didn’thesitate to nod your head in his direction, the desperation being all too clearin your eyes. Even he could see that you were suffering under these conditionsand urgently needed shelter before you and your friend froze to death. “Followme. There is a den up ahead, I shall take you there. It is not far.” Eventhough you were in the worst possible situation at the moment, you had just metthis man roughly half an hour before and were not completely sure if you shouldalready go with him or not. Murderers come in all shapes and sizes and theirsweet talks can be just as deadly, so you were still on your guard when youpondered over his proposal. He seemed very serious about it though and even D/Nseemed to be calmed by his presence and people always said that you could trustan animal on its instincts, so why wouldn’t you? And even so, you would bedying out here anyway if you stayed and refused, you might as well take yourchances now and hope for it to turn out the right way.

Themarksman seemed to have taken notice of your distress and turned to you onceagain and gave you a rather soft look, his features having less of thesharpness in them as he tried to convince you he was indeed trustworthy. “I understandyour caution, but your body is in a bad shape at the moment and it needs warmthbefore you will pass out from the cold and freeze to death. The storms here arerelentless. There will be no escape if you do not get to shelter immediately.”The worry was clearly evident in his face now and it was obvious the man didnot want to see you die, even if you were a stranger. He had good intentionslike you hoped and you once again nodded tiredly as you let him lead youthrough the vast expanse of snow. D/N followed suit, his worn out legs carryinghim almost barely behind you. The dog was on its last bits of strength too andyou shot it an apologetic look for being so doubtful and almost stubbornthrough the whole situation, as every second mattered for both of your survivalnow. The hunter put an arm around your shoulder to guide you along with him, ashe feared you would lose your way otherwise and the blizzard was still hittingas strongly as when you arrived, causing the wind to be able to topple you overeasily now that you had weakened so much through your travel. Both you and thearcher were too preoccupied with the matter of life and death before, that youcompletely forgot to introduce yourself to each other and you did want to knowat least the name of the person who saved your life.

“W-Who arey-you?” Your voice coming out in a faint whisper as your teeth chatteredtogether, words barely coming out of your mouth because of the ruthless coldand your shivering. The archer still seemed rather unaffected by it all,probably because his armor and fur coat were successfully keeping him warm. Heturned his face in your direction, lowering it slightly so he could keep youclose in the process. “My name is Hanzo. I will get you to safety, you cantrust me.” Something about the way he uttered those words made you feel atpeace, the warmth he promised you earlier being noticeable, even in his ownvoice and suddenly you did not feel as unsure anymore as you closed your eyesin submission while leaning on him for support, once he offered you hisshoulder to brace you from the bitter ice in the air. “Thank you, Hanzo.”

[fantasticwritingandwheretoreadit]

Of Course I Believe in Magic (Newt x Muggle!Reader)

Request:  Hello! I'm a big fan from Portugal and I want to do a request! Could you please do a Newt X Muggle!Reader? Like, she believes in magic and she's investigating (She's a detective) the Goldenstein sisters, and when Newt appears, she starts being a little less careful and Newt notice her. And he watches her while she watches him. Then he ask her to go out with him, and the date is super cute and he tells her he's a wizard and she tells him she's a detective. - @cecesunshine-fanfictions

This was a suuuper cool and original idea and I apologize it took me a while to write

THIS IS MY LONGEST FIC EVER AT 2520 WORDS I GOT CARRIED AWAY OOPS

L/N: Last name

When you were ten years old, you witnessed what appeared to be an average woman pull what looked like a twig out of her pocket, mutter something under her breath, and before you could process what happened, she had vanished into thin air.  Of course you had heard stories when you were younger about wizards and fairies and dragons.  Most kids stopped believing in that kind of stuff as they got older, but you weren’t ‘most kids’.  Deep down you felt that magic was all around you, but you just couldn’t see it with your own two eyes.  But when you saw that woman disappear in an abandoned alleyway, it was enough to confirm your suspicion that wizards and witches did exist, and looked just like your average person.  You were curious as to how wizards and witches got their powers.  Can anybody become a wizard?  Or did you have to be born one?  Is there some magic wizarding school hidden from average human eyes?  Whatever it was, you were determined to find out.

**Fourteen years later, age 24**

Fourteen years later, here you are.  A detective living in New York City, one of the busiest and most crowded places in America.  Not your stereotypical detective that wore a trenchcoat, totally not-suspicious sunglasses, and a fedora or deerstalker hat.  You preferred to blend in with everyone else.  You figured that there just had to be some wizards living in America.  About a month ago, you had become curious with a pair of sisters.  After a few days of what some would consider stalking, you had discovered that their names were Tina and Queenie Goldstein.  Queenie was the bubbly blonde-haired sister, you would usually always find her wearing some shade of pink.  Tina was the more stern dark-haired sister.  Using your context clues you had determined that Tina must be the eldest.  Aside from their physical appearance, what really fueled your suspicion was one morning you made the bold decision to follow the sisters wherever they were going.  You stayed about twenty feet behind them as to not stir up any suspicion from them.  Eventually you saw them enter the Woolworth Building on Broadway.  You followed behind them; but when you entered the building, they were nowhere to be seen.  

You went home that night and thought about it.  Maybe the building acts as an entirely different place for wizards if they use some sort of spell, you thought.  

**Two weeks later**

You hadn’t really made any groundbreaking discoveries on the Goldstein sisters the past two weeks, but today got you a little curious.  While standing near a lamppost on the street the Goldstein’s apartment building is on, you saw the two of them enter the building with two men.  You found this to be very out of the ordinary, as the Goldstein’s apartment building was females-only. One was shorter in stature, with dark hair and a mustache.  The other was more tall and lanky and appeared to be in his twenties.  He had cinnamon colored, curly hair and was wearing a bright blue coat.  You didn’t have that great of a view, but you could tell his face seemed to be littered with freckles.  In his hand he was gripping a brown leather case.  

He was the last to go in, and you, not realizing you were staring, caught him looking straight at you for a brief moment before following the others inside.  You were sort of embarrassed that he had caught you staring, but you had to admit:  he was pretty cute.

*

Over the next few weeks, you kept seeing the blue-coated curly-haired man around the city.  You never got too close to him, as you feared that there was a possibility he was catching onto your spying habits on the Goldsteins.  Yet you also wanted to talk to him and get to know who exactly he was.  (Oh, and french kiss him.  He looks like he tastes like pastries or somethin like that).  Next Friday, however, was different.

*

You weren’t doing anything involving the Goldsteins today.  You’ve been taking a break all week.  You were walking down the busy street holding a steaming cup of coffee, when the Gods decided to make it rain.  Hard.  You didn’t have an umbrella to use, so instead you tightly wrapped your coat around your body and began to walk as fast as you could in your heeled boots to get back to your apartment.  

You sharply turned a corner only to bump right into a man.  You looked up and was shocked to see who it was.  It was the attractive curly-haired man.

“Oh--uh--I’m sorry, I’m just trying to get back to my apartment before I get soaked--” you rambled on.

The man chuckled, before opening an umbrella over the two of you.  (It’s your average muggle umbrella).  “I see that.  I’ve been seeing you around the city lately, but I haven’t gotten the chance to speak with you.  Can I walk you back to your apartment?  It’s freezing and wet out here, I don’t want you to get drenched and catch a cold,  I could imagine you’d like some company.”

He was British!  That just made you attracted to him even more.  You were grateful for his kind offer, and especially for the umbrella that protected you from the ungodly weather.  You were pretty positive that he wasn’t a rapist or some shit.  He was just too adorable.  “I’d appreciate that very much, thank you.  Oh!  I’m Y/N, by the way.  Y/N L/N.”

He smiled.  “I’m Newton Scamander, but everyone calls me Newt.”

The trek back to your apartment took about fifteen minutes.  You and Newt made small talk, about little things, like hobbies, why Newt was visiting America, stuff like that.  You never brought up the Goldsteins so you didn’t sound creepy, you actually wanted to get to know this guy.  However, you found out that Newt was actually in the middle of writing a book, but he didn’t tell you what exactly it was about.  He said he was visiting America because there was something here that he needed to study for his book.  It sounded a bit suspicious, but hey, for all you know he could actually be an undercover agent.  

Or a wizard.

*

You arrived at the door to your apartment.  

“Thank you, Newt, for walking me home on such short notice.”  You smiled to show your gratitude.

“It was my pleasure.  I’m glad I finally got to talk to you, I’ve been too shy to actually approach you,” Newt responded, a cute smile appearing on his freckled face.

“I guess me running into you was fate, huh?”

He chuckled.  “Well, I should probably get back to where I’m staying.”

You frowned.  “At least come in for a cup of tea before you leave, in return for walking me home.”

Newt seemed very happy with the idea.  “I’d love to.”

At the end of your little two-person tea party, Newt had something important to ask you.

“Y/N, I know we’ve only really known each other for about an hour, but you’re more intriguing than any girl I’ve met the past ten years.  So I have to ask, would you care to go on a date with me tomorrow at Central Park?”

You nodded happily.  “Yes, of course I would!”

“Perfect.  I’ll be here tomorrow at six?”  Newt’s huge smile remained on his face.

“Sounds lovely.  Now you should really be getting home, it’s getting really dark.”

“Trust me, I’ll be fine.”

*

All throughout the next day you were giddy with excitement for your date with Newt.  You were grateful that Central Park wasn’t a particularly fancy place, thus making it a lot easier for you to choose your outfit.  

You glanced at the clock.  It was 5:58PM.  Newt should be here any minute.  You pulled on your heeled boots (you had basically mastered walking in them) and your warm winter coat.  You looked at the clock one more time just as the hand turned from 5:59PM to 6:00PM.  There was a knock at the door.  Man’s got impressive timing.  

You checked your hair one last time in the mirror next to the door and coat rack before opening the door to see a handsome Newt standing there with a single rose in hand.  He was dressed in his usual attire, but damn did he look sexy in it.  “Good evening, Miss L/N,” Newt said in his beautiful British accent before handing you the rose.  

You carefully took the rose as to not get blood on your coat and inhaled it’s sweet scent.  “Why thank you, Mister Scamander.  Come in for a minute, I’ll find somewhere to put this rose.”  

Newt stepped into your apartment, closing the door behind him.  You bustled around in the small kitchen and found an unused vase under the sink.  You put some water in it and placed the rose inside before setting it in the middle of the coffee table in your sitting room.  

As you were doing this, Newt spoke up.  “Y/N, you look beautiful.”

You looked up at him and felt your cheeks heat up.  “Aw thank you, Newt.  You look quite handsome yourself.”  Newt blushed as well.  “Shall we get going?”

“I believe we shall,” answered Newt as you linked your hands together and left your apartment.

*

Central Park wasn’t too far from your apartment, maybe two blocks over.  It was cold outside, but when you were with Newt the weather didn’t seem to bother you that much anymore.  You both walked down the paths and admired the icicles hanging from the bare trees and the frozen fountain.  You talked mainly about life and past relationships, which it turned out that neither of you had had many.  

When it started to get darker, you could see the beautiful colored lights that lit up the whole of New York City.  Your legs were starting to get weak from doing so much walking in your boots, so you pulled Newt over to the nearest bench that happened to overlook the trees and gave you a perfect view of the setting Sun.  You pressed yourself against Newt’s side and lay your head on his shoulder, much to his surprise.  Not that he was complaining, he loved the affection.  

“Isn’t it gorgeous?”

Newt nodded.  “Absolutely.  I’ve heard stories of this city, but getting to actually be here is incredible.”  

“I’ve always wanted to go to England.  It sounds amazing,” you said.  

Newt chuckled.  “If you like clouds and rain at least half of the week. You’ll definitely love it.”  

You two sit there, in silence, simply enjoying each other’s presence as you watch the Sun set behind the skyscrapers and the silver Moon rise.  

Suddenly, Newt broke the silence with his soft and beautiful™ voice.  “Y/N… I know this is completely out of context, but… do you believe in magic?”

You took your head off his shoulder to look him in the eyes.  You scoffed.  “Of course I believe in magic.  It makes living in this cruel world a whole lot easier if you believe that wizards exist and unicorns live.”

“Alright, that’s a relief.  But you might think I’m insane after I tell you this-”

You cut him off.  “That you’re a wizard?”

Newt stared at you blankly, eyes growing large.  “What?  How on EARTH did you know?  Are you a witch too?”

You looked taken aback.  “I was right!?  I knew I had a fifty-fifty chance oh wow this is amazing!  Are Tina and Queenie Goldstein also witches?  Please tell me they are.”

Newt looked even more surprised.  “Yes, they are.  You know them?”

You shrugged.  “Eh… not really.  I’m a detective, you see.  I’ve dedicated the past decade to try and find proof that there is in fact a wizarding world out there.  When I was ten I could’ve sworn I saw a woman use a wand or something and then suddenly she disappeared.”

“What you saw was an apparation spell.  It’s what wizards and witches use to get around quickly,”  Newt replied, still in shock.

“So wands are real, too!?” you sounded like an excited child on Christmas morning.

Newt reached into his pocket and pulled out a stick.  More accurately, a wand.  “Lumos,” he said, and the tip of the wand illuminated.  You stared at it in awe.

“Are wizards even allowed to tell regular people that they’re magical?”  you asked.

“The wizarding laws in the United States are different than in the United Kingdom.  In the United States it’s forbidden to be in a relationship with someone non-magical, but in the United Kingdom it’s legal.  There’s an obliviation spell, it makes a non-magical person such as yourself forget anything they ever saw that was magical.”

The color drained from your face.  Newt noticed.  “Oh, love, don’t worry!  I’m not going to use it on you.”

“Oh thank God.  This is all so incredible to me.  It’s so much to take in…”

Newt smiled.  “I’ll tell you everything soon, I promise.  And do you remember the rose I gave you?”

You nodded, confused as to how it was significant in this conversation.

“I enchanted it.  It will never die.”

“You just keep amazing me, Newt,” you replied and kissed his cheek.  “Did you really trust me enough to tell me that you’re a wizard?  Especially since it’s illegal here apparently.”

You could see Newt’s blush through the light of his wand tip.  “Y/N, I know we just formally met yesterday, but I feel more attracted to you than I have been to anybody, ever.  I don’t usually care for people that much, I mainly spend time with my magical creatures and beasts-” he noticed that you were about to interrupt and cut you off- “we’ll talk about them later.  There’s something about you that I’ve never seen in a human before.  I could sense you were very close to the magical world.  Not to mention your beauty and kindness...” he trailed off.

“Good lord you are just a complete sweetheart, aren’t you?”  you exclaimed.  Newt’s cheeks were blazing red.  You leaned in and pressed your lips to his in a sweet and chaste kiss.  Suddenly you felt something twig-like brush your neck, causing you to pull away in fear and confusion.

Newt groaned.  “Pickett!  You little bugger!  I thought I told you to stay in the workshop!”  Newt pulled a green stick-looking creature out of his breast pocket and placed it on his shoulder.  “I’m sorry, Y/N.  This is Pickett, he’s a Bowtruckle with some attachment issues, he basically lives in my pocket.

“Is this one of your magical creatures you mentioned?  He’s very cute,” you said, admiring Pickett with curiosity.  

Newt nodded.  “Yes.  I have so many more… I think they’ll all really like you.  But there’s no way they could love you as much as I do.”  Newt leaned in for another kiss, hand on your waist.

This was sure to be the start of something a m a z i n g.

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