#surprised no one asks me for gossip. thank the swan for that.

[tbdofficial]

what if there are private things in the director's office?

dont really pay attention to that sort of thing anyways. not my business.

besides. ive already seen everything (and i do mean everything). i just cant really be arsed to care much :|

[ladybellissima]

Finding Love Katakuri x Reader Part 20

"Sanji if you mix the juice of these fruits in your cream, it will get sweeter!", (Y/N) appeared by his side with some rare fruits in her hands. Fainting of her lovely cooking attire he bowed before her, while she laid the fruits in his open hands.

"(Y/N) ~swan. Your appearance alone makes the cream sweeter than it ever could be…..but thank yoooou for helping me… My lovely queen of sweets. ", he sang happily and cut the fruits while looking at her with this funny smile.

"Don't.. Don't cut yourself Sanji", she spoke, while feeling awkward of his behavior. Out of nowhere she was lifted in the air and turned in circles of the love sick cook.

"I don't deserve your worries. How beautiful!", he sang and (Y/N) got a flustered mess. Jumping away from his arms she didn't need to scold him, because Chiffon already kicked his ass for not focusing on his work.

Getting the cream ready and putting it on the cake they watched their work in awe.

" We made it!!!!!", they cheered happily and started to drag the cake outside.

"Now we will bring it to Mama and it's done. Right?", Pudding asked (Y/N) motivated, but stopped after seeing her deep in thought. She was at her limits and the only thing that she really wanted now was to get back to Katakuri. She wanted to see him, see if he was okay and be in his arms. Her worries made her crazy. And her weak body which felt more and more numb pushed her frustration even more. Feeling the strong gaze of Pudding she looked up and smiled.

"I am sorry, but I think I will stay here and find out where Katakuri is now..", she spoke exhausted.

"I understand. No problem (Y/N). Please rest a bit. Thank you for your amazing help. I will get Oven to help you out.", she spoke worried and rushed out to get her brother who was more than surprised that (Y/N) was here the whole time.

"And nobody told me! Do you know how worried I was!", he spoke pissed and got into a heated conversation with his sister.

(Y/N) took a deep breath and sat down on a seat. She could barely stand and her body pained. Did she not notice before? Or better how was she able to push the pain away for such a long time?

"(Y/N)~swan your advice with the cream was amazing, here taste it, my sweet flower.", Sanji spoke and offered her a spoon, but she wasn't able to respond and blacked out of exhaustion. Shocked Sanji grabbed her body and took her in his arms.

"(Y/N)!!!", Pudding rushed to her side and tried to wake her, but with no effort. Sanji quickly hid his face with a clothe to be unnoticed by Oven, who took her into his arms with a serious expression.

" She needs rest..This day wasn't an easy one.", Oven explained, while Pudding brushed (Y/N) 's cheeks worriedly. He knew how exhausted she must be of the kidnapping and this tea party day.

"Bring her to my room.", she spoke and they left Sanji behind who couldn't do anything but to hide. He knew that this was the last time he saw her and it pained him that he wasn't able to say goodbye.

"I am really happy that I've met you. Hopefully we see each other again.", he whispered and headed outside to help with the cake.

xxx

Slowly her eyes opened and (Y/N) found herself in a comfy bed. It was silent, the complete opposite of the whole day. Her look wandered around the dark room and stopped at the window where the bright moon gave a comfortable light. She was tired, but felt much better than before.

"How much time past?"

She thought stressed and shot up from her bed. Getting up, she stepped outside of the room and noticed that she was still in Pudding's kitchen. Getting outside she was met with thousands of chess soldiers and other dangerous looking people.

"I couldn't believe it that he stabbed himself."

"Yeah what's going on with Katakuri!?

Gasping of hearing the gossip, (Y/N) quickly rushed through the soldiers and stopped by a scary looking man dressed in a skeleton suit with a hat and white make up or was it his face? She couldn't tell, but she was sure that he spoke about her husband. Grabbing him by his collar she got his attention, which was more than surprised of seeing her before him.

"Kat.. Katakuri's wife!?", he stuttered flustered and froze in he spot.

"Tell me please. What happened to Katakuri?! Is he hurt? Where is he? Tell me!", she pleaded and let his heart melt of sadness. Unsure of what to say, because he didn't know exactly either, he became a stuttering mess.

"(Y/N).", a deep voice got her attention. Quickly turning around she found Oven and rushed to his side to know what's going on.

"You really should rest….This is all too much for you to handle.", he started and was stunned by her pissed expression.

"I give a shit about that! Tell me where my husband is now!", she growled into his flustered face. Never did he saw her loosing her temper like that. And the way she grabbed his vest roughly to pull him down to her level with this dangerous glint in her eyes was hot.

" (Y/N)… Watch your tongue. You are a princess…", he tried to calm her down, but failed miserably. Getting a chair she placed it in front of him and step on it to be on eye level. Grabbing his vest again by the collar she pulled him closer.

"Tell. Me. Now."

Red as a tomato he quickly stepped back and coughed to calm his nerves. Glancing back to her still angered gaze he sighed deeply.

"Katakuri is in the mirroworld and fighting the straw hat. We got the information that he had stabbed himself from Flambe. She crawled out of the mirror hours ago, but is still very confused. I think she took a blow of some of Katakuri's attacks.", he explained and pointed towards his sister who was lying on the ground next to the mirror. Walking to her side (Y/N) shook her to wake her up, but this girl was still in her own confused world.

" damn bastard"

"katakuri stabbed himself.. So shameful…"

Confused she looked up to Oven who didn't know either what that was about. Her look wandered to the big mirror, which reflected the bright moon perfectly. Touching its antic frame she felt her heart break with every second. She was afraid that this fight between them got too far, too reckless that someone wouldn't only be a loser.

"It's the only mirror left. We are on guard and waiting if the straw hat comes out, but I don't think Katakuri will lose. He never lost a fight ever.. Even if he got hurt…",Oven spoke proudly of his brother.

"Let me go inside.", her voice sounded strained and sadly.

"Oh come on (Y/N). Don't give me that. Katakuri will kill me. I can't let you go inside. If you get hurt I am screwed. ", Oven spoke frustrated, but stopped after meeting her crying face. Even when she cried she was beautiful and was able to reach his soft side. Pinching his nose with his fingers he collected his thoughts.

" I… I have to see him.. Treat his wounds.", she added while sobbing.

"I know I know… God I am too soft… Toooo soft.", he growled frustrated and let her eyes light up in hope.

"You can find a medical kit at Pudding's office. That's the room where you slept. Get it and come back here..", he spoke and (Y/N) quickly rushed back inside to get it. Her hands were shaking and she needed to pull herself together to not let it fall. Her heart was racing like she was running for hours. The fear to lose him, the man she fell deeply in love was making her a frightened mess. Quickly coming back she stepped before the mirror, while Oven gave her an intense look.

"I can't go with you. Daifuku is on his ship and supporting Mama and I have to guard the mirror. If anything seems dangerous. I plead you to go the same way back here. Stay safe (Y/N) and help my brother.", the last part he spoke with a kind smile. Nodding (Y/N) watched her reflection in the mirror. Uneasy she lifted her hand and touched the glas , which felt like touching water. Slowly her hand dived into the material, while she took a step and let herself completely fall into it. Frightened she closed her eyes for a moment and felt cold. It was completely silent. Opening her eyes again (Y/N) found herself in an abstract world with all kind of mirrors on the walls. Everything was painted in a chess board style in pink and black. Slowly she walked along the high walls, while pressing her medical kit closer to her body. With every step she got more used to the situation and moved faster until she was running. Whatever this world was or what danger would come. She would go on till she finally was by his side.

"(Y/N)?…"

Stopping in her tracks and breathing heavily she found Luffy walking slowly, while supporting himself by the wall. Gasping she rushed to his side and helped him sit down.

"Lu.. Luffy?!", she spoke shocked of his appearance and was about to help him, but he stopped her.

"I have no time (Y/N). I need to go back to my ship. Don't worry it looks worse than it actually is.", he gave her a strained smile, while getting up again.

"Luffy… Where is.. he.. Is he..", she couldn't say it. She couldn't even think clear at that moment, but Luffy's hand on her head pulled her back of her thoughts.

"I would never break your heart… He is alive…", he spoke seriously and let her cry out in relief. Taking deep breaths she slowly pulled herself together and watched Luffy leaving her side.

"Wait…", she called out and came to his side. Fumbling in her medical kit she grabbed a band aid and placed it onto one of his smaller wounds. Stunned he looked down onto the yellow sticker with little cupcakes on it and gave her a bright smile of her sweet gesture.

"The mirror is surrounded by chess soldiers and Oven is guarding it. So you have to be quick and leave as fast as you could.. Stay safe and Thank you Luffy.", (Y/N) spoke and started to run to Katakuri.

Looking down onto his band aid he balled his fists motivated and swore to make it out of here alive with his crew.

" I will (Y/N)..thank you.. "

[gezellig-writes]

I posted 352 times in 2022

That's 65 more posts than 2021!

4 posts created (1%)

348 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@renegadepack

@howlonghaveyoubeenseventeen

@musingsofvenus

@the-most-pathetic-edge-marquis

@theclearwaters

I tagged 180 of my posts in 2022

Only 49% of my posts had no tags

#bella swan - 29 posts

#jacob black - 27 posts

#leah clearwater - 21 posts

#twilight vibes - 9 posts

#charlie swan - 8 posts

#billy black - 8 posts

#paul lahote - 6 posts

#the pack - 5 posts

#edward cullen - 5 posts

#sam uley - 5 posts

Longest Tag: 135 characters

#but also that the increased cell replication and repair that is their enhanced healing could also leave them vulnerable to other things

My Top Posts in 2022:

#4

🌹

Now though, with the rumors of giant wolves in the woods going strong for months and only confirmed by the events of the morning, their hand had been played.

for every "🌹" received in my inbox I'll post one random sentence of a random WIP I'm currently writing

1 note - Posted October 25, 2022

#3

This has been sitting in my drafts for ages, and I finally got around to finishing it. Many, many, many thanks to @forksgothic for being a phenomenal beta-reader/editor

Basically a continuation of my not-quite a rewrite/extra to canon of twilight where the pack isn't essentially on their own, but loved and supported by their parents and the elders of La Push. Wherein Billy has a somewhat difficult conversation with his younger sister about his nephew Colin

2 notes - Posted April 18, 2022

#2

I want to dump all the characters in your ask box (I may do this anyway), but I’ll settle for Embry Call 👁👄👁

Oh go ahead and dump everyone lol. But, on to my best boy, Embry

Do I like them: Absolutely. I've always been most interested in the pack and their dynamics (like the rest of tumblr), but I was really drawn initially to the friendship between embry/quil/jacob, or what little of it we saw in the series

5 Good Qualities: (a lot of this is coming from those genius lists @blackpack did on little known tidbits from the books)

He's very observant, being the one to bring up to Jacob that Sam meets with the tribal council, among other things

He's quite loyal to his friends and family

and his mom- he's very aware of the gossip about her when she first moved to town, and what still lingers to some extent. I could go more into how I see their relationship, but for a good while, they were all the other had, and having to keep the secret from her really hurt

I also see him as quite smart, wanting to go to college to study history and/or folklore and is the one that fights the hardest against the pack having to drop out of school or whatever they end up doing

He's quite easygoing and doesn't seem to hold a grudge for long if at all

He puts up with Quil and Jacob and their shenanigans

3 Bad Qualities: (tbh this took a lot longer than I thought)

honestly, the fact he stayed with Sam's pack as long as he did- for as long as he and Jake have been friends I'm surprised it took him until after Bella had the baby to leave

he never tells his mom?? I am drifting far into my own headcanon territory, but if they're close, he should have let her know what was going on and that he's not in some rebellious phase- he had the okay from Sam to do so. Even if she isn't Quileute she does have the right to know at least some of what's going on

he makes too many bets for his own good- where is this money coming from??

Favorite Episode/Moment: This scene from Eclipse

Otp: Quil/Embry for sure because a) I’m a sucker for friends to lovers, but b) it’s a great replacement for the claire imprint situation which has always squicked me out

Brotp: Embry/Quil/Jacob obviously

Ot3: I don’t know if I have an OT3 for Embry? Maybe Embry/Quil/Jacob, if I was forced to choose, but it still doesn't feel right

notp: I'm not particularly fond of Embry/Bella, but really don't like Embry/any vampire-though I don't even know if those fics exist (like I know Rosalie/Leah exists and I’m baffled by it)

best quote: I had to flip through New Moon, and I had totally forgotten about this gem-

"Well, the wolf's out of the bag now." Embry sighed. "Way to go, Jake." (New Moon, pg 328, Family)

headcanon: he's a fancy dancer and has been going on the powwow trail with his mom quite literally his entire life (Tiffany is a somewhat well known fancy shawl dancer) and the entire pack+ adjacent crew saved up for ages and surprised him with new regalia after he grew out of his old set post-growth spurt

6 notes - Posted April 19, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

If you haven’t done so, please do yourself a favor and read @theclearwaters Between Who You Are and Who You Could Be

18 notes - Posted April 18, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[sunflower-swan]

I posted 603 times in 2022

24 posts created (4%)

579 posts reblogged (96%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@neil-gaiman

@ziggystardustminifest

@sunflower-swan

@hp-podfic-mini-fest

@fandomtrumpshate

I tagged 89 of my posts in 2022

#harry potter fanfiction - 17 posts

#tz reblog - 11 posts

#ofmd - 10 posts

#harry potter - 10 posts

#wolfstar - 10 posts

#draco malfoy - 9 posts

#drarry - 9 posts

#ziggy stardust mini fest - 8 posts

#hp make it musical - 5 posts

#hermione granger - 5 posts

Longest Tag: 84 characters

#good teachers are burnt out and the education system is not helping them or the kids

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Title: Serendipity Author: sunflower_swan (me!) Fandom: Harry Potter Rating: G Pairing: Theo/Harry Tags: Eighth Year, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Harry WC: 630 Summay: Harry decidedly does not notice Theo. Until Theo notices him.

@ziggystardustminifest Day 6! I definitely did not write as much as I had intended to for this mini-fest. But I’m pretty happy with what I got done. And I will probably finish out the prompts because I have them all figured out just ran out of time.

This is the first NottPott I’ve ever written and I kind of dig the pairing. Might have to write more of them in the future. This is a gift for @roseharpermaxwell for just being an awesome friend.

Read on AO3 or below the break.

Harry did not notice him.

Didn’t notice the way one wavy strand of cocoa-coloured hair fell across his strong brow when he was lost in concentration on an assignment.

Nor the way the corners of his hazel eyes crinkled and dimples cut into his sharp cheekbones when Blaise told a joke at the Slytherin breakfast table.

And in the library, Harry definitely didn’t notice the other boy’s wide, pouty lips mouthing the words as he read a book alone in the corner.

Harry did not notice Theo.

Not all the time.

Until the day Theo decided to notice him.

…

Charms class had ended and the Eighth Years filed out into the hallway.

“You were impressive today, Harry,” Theo whispered beside him.

Harry’s head whipped in the direction of the low and breathy complement. His voice cracked in surprise, “Th- thanks.”

Theo’s smile deepened — eye crinkles and dimples — and Harry’s breath caught. His heart skipped a couple of beats before racing ahead without him.

“Well, see you around.” Theo gave him a small wave and jogged to catch up with the Slytherins, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder as he did so.

Harry stood rooted to the floor.

As the group turned at the end of the hall, Theo glanced back at Harry, flashed a grin, and disappeared around the corner.

The rest of the class shuffled around him until Ron and Hermione arrived and snapped him out of his stupor.

“You ok, Harry?” Hermione asked, tilting her head to the side.

“Huh?” Harry jumped. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes back into focus, not quite believing what had just happened. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s go to lunch.”

Ron and Hermione shared a look which Harry pointedly ignored.

In the Great Hall, Harry tried his best to focus on the conversation between Neville, Hermione, and Ginny — something salacious about Professor Snape and Professor Trewlaney out behind the greenhouses — but his mind and eyes kept drifting to the Slytherin table.

He wasn’t the only one not paying attention to the gossip at their house’s table. On more than one occasion, astute hazel eyes met his from across the hall. Each time, Harry’s neck burned warmer and Theo’s smirk widened.

After lunch, Harry had a free period. He said goodbye to his friends in the entrance hall and escaped to the comfortable solitude of the courtyard. Choosing a bench in the sun, Harry flopped down and tilted his head against the cool stone wall.

Unbidden, the image of Theo’s face danced behind his eyelids, all laughter and joy and confidence. How did Theo escape Malfoy’s fate during the war, he wondered. Perhaps, if he was very lucky, he would have an opportunity to find out.

As though summoning him through pure thought alone, a smooth voice popped his eyes open.

“May I join you, Harry?” Theo said.

Rendered incapable of speech, Harry nodded and scooted over to make room on the bench.

See the full post

8 notes - Posted January 31, 2022

#4

One of my goals this year was to kudo and comment on 100 fics (1k or longer). Not because shorter fics are not worthy, they totally are - I write TONS of drabbles - it just felt like a good metric for this goal. It would be super easy to read a hundred, less than 500 word drabbles, ya know? So I wanted that added challenge.

Here is January! I read a lot of Harry Potter, a lot of rare pairs, and a lot of smut. Hopefully you find something here that you might enjoy as well. :)

Happy New Year, Lovey by @krumpufferao3  Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: Madam Rosmerta/Ron Weasley Rating: Explicit WC: 6367 Summary: It's Ron Weasley's first New Year's Eve without Hermione Granger at his side. He finds himself at The Three Broomsticks, alone and enjoying the view of the beautiful, exotic and much older Madame Rosmerta. Will Ron ring in the new year lusting over the first woman to stir his libido or will he spend it fulfilling his youthful fantasies?

I read this because KrumPuffer had listed Rosmerta/Ron as a favorite pairing and I wanted to write them a gift drabble. KrumPuffer’s writing is beautiful and this fic was sexy as hell. Before this fic, I wouldn’t have ever really considered this pairing, but I totally dig it now. Age gap!

~~~

Prologue by @aedwritesfic  Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: Draco/Harry Rating: Teen WC: 4565 Summary: Ten years after the war, Harry stumbles across Malfoy in a Muggle club. What could have been an awkward encounter might just be a new beginning.

Literally everything about this fic was pure perfection. It would have been all too easy to go in a smut-for-no-reason direction. But adavision is better than that, instead weaving a tale of two complex characters accidentally stumbling upon each other and making an effort to get to know each other. 100/10 recommend. And then go read everything adavison has written because she is #writinggoals. 

~~~

Next Week by @samunderthelights  Fandom: The Flash (TV 2014) Pairing: Barry Allen/Leonard Snart Rating: General WC: 1000 Summary: After meeting up with Leonard every week for a year and a half in secret, Barry decides that it's time to come clean about his feelings for him.

I’ve never watched The Flash and had no idea who these characters were going into this fic. Sam contributed a few fics to the @ziggystardustminifest last month and I learned that they are the master of angst! Despite having no prior experience with this fandom or these characters, I still felt a deep connection to the story, which I think says a lot about Sam’s skill to pull the reader in and then rip out their heart.

~~~

Nott a Pott of Perfect Amortentia by Amebb42 Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: Theo/Harry Rating: Teen WC: 1667 Summary: Something unexpected happens when Harry and Theo's Amortentia potion goes wrong.

I wish I was this clever when coming up with titles! This fic was a big inspiration when I was writing my first ever NottPott last week. The side characters running commentary was both hilarious and straight up in character. Super cute accidental bonding fic! 

~~~

It’s Raining Weasleys by @lorbie05  Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: Hermione/Percy, Hermione/Ginny, Hermione/Arthur, Hermione/Fred/George, Hermione/Charlie, Hermione/Bill Rating: E WC: 1850 Summary: In hindsight, maybe partaking in a secret ritual dedicated to Circe at The Burrow had been a bad idea. She had been doomed from the start.

If anyone could write six lemony-goodness scenes in less than 2k words and include knotting, Lori can AND DID! I think Percy and Arthur were my favs, though they were all HOT! Hermione is a very lucky witch in this fic. 

~~~

Hermione Granger and the Day Ron Weasley Called her a Slut (Part 1 of Eighth Year OT3 series) by ellebesea Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: Hermione/Draco/Harry Rating: E WC: 1179 Summary: To be honest, Harry had also found Hermione’s determined mingling with the Slytherins to be odd, but he knew better than to actually confront her about it. Besides, he isn’t exactly one to talk, is he? Not when one considers his newfound urge to show his dick off to Malfoy, anyway.

Important info to know about me: I am not a Harmony shipper. But for some reason, when Draco is thrown in, I dunno... it works for me, lol. BAMF Hermione, who knows what/who she wants? Yep. Loved it. Ron can eff right off. 

~~~

Scorching Hot Threesomes and Silent Co-existence: Harry Potter’s Guide to Life Post-Voldemort (Part 2 of Eighth Year OT3 series) by ellebesea Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: Hermione/Draco/Harry Rating: E WC: 33,591 Summary: Honestly, he's not sure how he should feel about the events of last night, but his cock doesn't seem the least bit confused. His first time, beyond a few handies behind a greenhouse or shed, and it was a threesome with his gorgeous best friend and - he might as well admit it - the hottest guy he's ever met. Or: the sequel to Hermione Granger and the Day Ron Weasley Called her a Slut. Hermione is still a badass, Ron is slightly less foolish, Draco Malfoy manages to convey a whole lot without saying much, and maybe, just maybe, Harry will get a clue.

Judging from the post dates, this fic was written over the course about a year and a half. The beginning isn’t bad, but it’s evident that the writer grows in the craft in the later chapters. That being said, the night that I binged this fic had been at the conclusion of the most chaotic day of my (9 year) career. I found this buried in some bookmarks and it was exactly what I needed to bring myself back to center: an unapologetic smut-filled threesome fest. First of all, hot, Hott, HOT. Second of all, the relationship between the trio was very balanced, no one ever was always the center of attention and I really liked that. Harry being a virgin their first time? Okay, sure, I guess. Moving beyond that, then ending was super fucking sweet and brought the whole story to a very happy conclusion. I would love to read more about their lives post-this story. 

~~~

And the Spiders from Mars by @phenomenalasterisk ​ Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: many Rating: Mature WC: 4615 Summary: A collection of my drips and drabbles I manage to pull together for the Ziggy Stardust Mini Fest. These are unconnected, pick and choose which chapters to read based on your tastes. Tags updated as I go, with additional details in chapter headings. Came here for a specific tag? Check to see which day it's from and go to that chapter. Came here for a specific ship/character? Check the chapter titles for a cheat sheet. Each chapter is labeled for content as well.

Phe wrote some really fantastic drabbles for the @ziggystardustminifest. Seriously, they are all brilliant stories and beautiful writing. The Bowie inspiration is so evident in them all. There’s even an artwork! Which I could not stop staring at for at least a full minute! 

Not a whole lot, but, shrug. It’s what I had time to read. Love Fest is going on at the moment, so I think I’ll have a special post for everything I read for that. If you read something you love, please leave kudos and comments for the authors. Even a single emoji brings warmth to our hearts and a smile to our faces. Kudos are nice; comments are nicer.

Or, if you have a rec you think I’d like, then drop me an ask!

12 notes - Posted February 2, 2022

#3

Title: Raise Your Glass Author: sunflower_swan (me!) Fandom: Harry Potter Rating: T Pairing: Hermione/Fred Tags: New Year’s Eve, New York City, Fred Lives, Mild Language, Drinking, Truth or Dare WC: 1.3k Summary: George enlists the help of Lee to cheer up Fred who's been moping around after an ill-timed break-up. A tipsy game of Truth or Dare leads to interesting results.

This was written for @frumpologist A Very Marauder New Year. There are ten fics in the collection, all featuring a Marauder (or honorary Marauder) on New Year’s Eve, so go check them out!

Sadly, Winter Break is coming to an end but hopefully I can hold on to my muse.

Excerpt:

Hushed and frenzied voices drifted from outside the flat entrance door. Fred lay upright on the sofa with one arm flopped out to the side and the other tucked behind his head. He’d been studying a spider working on its web in the corner for the better part of the afternoon now — he wasn’t certain how much time had passed as time had lost most of its meaning a week ago.

Had it been a week already? It seemed longer. Or shorter; one could not be certain in circumstances such as these.

The familiar voices grew louder until the door slammed open, and George and Lee entered. Fred could not be bothered to look up, move, or acknowledge them.

“Told ya, Lee!” George said.

“You weren’t lying, Georgie,” replied Lee.

Fred sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. All he wanted was to be left alone to wallow in his misery and George’s relentless pursuit to cheer him up was becoming a bit much. What did he tell Lee and what have they conspired together?

Read the rest on AO3.

13 notes - Posted January 1, 2022

#2

Title: The Stars Look Very Different Today Author: sunflower_swan (me!) Fandom: Harry Potter Rating: T Tags: Auror Draco, Magizoologist Luna, Nonbinary Luna, Forests, Creepy Fluff, There Was Only One Bed! WC: 1234 Summary: Draco's first assignment as an Auror is as a one-man security detail for young magizoologist, Luna Lovegood. One month alone in the woods with them should be easy, right?

@ziggystardustminifest Day 8! For Lostinthenightrain - Happy Birthday!

This fic started with a general vibe of an idea and then took an unexpected turn. The best I can say is that it is very loosely based on the song prompt. Lol. If you squint, then you can see the influences.

I only wanted to write a less than 1k drabble for all of these. This one got away from me a bit and I’d kinda like to know what is happening in the creepy forest, but I have my doubts that I will ever write it. If you feel moved to write that story, then please feel free to do so and tag me!

This is the first Druna I’ve ever written and I really liked it. My goal is to finish the rest of my Ziggy gift drabbles eventually.

Read on AO3 or below the break.

All those years at Hogwarts, Draco had watched them from afar. 

Luna did not walk through life, they floated, unaware and uncaring of how others perceived them. They seemed to not be of this planet. He envied the ease of their carefree spirit and attitude. Draco, meanwhile, kept his feet firmly on the ground, weighed down with legacy and responsibility.

After leaving Hogwarts, he managed to secure a full pardon (couldn’t say the same for his father, fortunately) and barely squeaked his way into the Auror training program. He kept his head down and shut out all distractions to prove his place and his worth, graduating from the program in record time. The only other cadets in his training class to complete the course as fast as him were Scarface and his Weasel sidekick.

Scoff.

Draco had not had enough time to even warm the chair at his new desk when Minister Shacklebolt entered his cramped office to shake his hand, congratulate him, and inform him of his first assignment — security detail for one Mx Lovegood. Solo.

The next day, Luna wandered into his office, looking around as though surprised to find themself there, and debriefed him on the details of the job.

The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures had selected them to travel to Gwydir Forest (in Wales?!) for one month (?!) to study reports of unusual magical creature activity. Changes in magical signature in the area had been detected and an expert needed to investigate. A cabin had been constructed, away from prying Muggle eyes, as a base of operations and stocked with necessary supplies for the month. Draco had been assigned as a safety precaution.

They need protection from themselves more than anything, Draco mused, studying the blonde wixen’s bright face over his steepled fingers.

“You’re different than you used to be,” Luna said in their dreamy voice, silver eyes boring into Draco’s.

“What do you mean?” Draco cleared his throat and moved some papers around his desk to avoid their uncomfortable, sustained eye contact.

“I think you know what I mean.”

Their wide eyes still did not blink; it wasn’t natural.

After a prolonged silence that put Draco on edge, Luna abruptly stood, bid him farewell until tomorrow, and glided out of his office.

This was going to be a long and weird month, he thought, watching the door close behind them.

All too quickly, the next day arrived. Draco had foregone his typical, tailored three-piece suit and brogue shoes for straight-leg denim jeans, a long-sleeve henley, and dragon leather boots. His magickally lightened pack held a couple more identical outfits and basic toiletries.

Luna appeared with their own pack — dressed in a floral sundress, contrasting cardigan, and hiking boots — and a tin can portkey. At eleven o’clock on the dot, the portkey activated and the pair spiralled through space, landing with a dull thud on a dirt path leading into a forest of trees. They held up the used tin can, the sun glinting off the metal edges, before wandlessly transfiguring it into a colourful bunch of wildflowers.

“Wow!” said Draco, impressed.

“These will add some lovely colour to what I expect is an otherwise drab cabin. Ministry workers don’t have much sense of aesthetic.” They eyed Draco’s utilitarian outfit before waving their arm. “Come on!” they said, hiking their pack higher on their back and practically skipping down the dirt path.

With no other choice but to follow — he was supposed to be protecting them, after all — Draco did the same. Before long, they were deep into what must have been the oldest part of the forest. The path narrowed, tall and dark trees surrounding them, the canopy above weaving together and blocking out much of the sunlight. 

They left behind the call of birds and the chatter of squirrels. Even the rustling wind could not penetrate this area of the forest.

The hair on the back of Draco’s neck prickled and his muscles tensed;  he glanced around at the too-quiet surroundings and tightened the grip around his wand. Something wasn’t right.

“Curious,” Luna said, tracing their fingers down the bark of a nearby tree.

“What’s curious?” Draco muttered.

They tilted their head back and closed their eyes. “The stars look different here than back home.”

See the full post

14 notes - Posted February 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Facade

Drarry Discord Writer’s Corner Challenge January 2022 Prompt: Glass Art Restriction: Art Nouveau Word Count: 222

Harry discovered the real me. Eventually.

Beneath the sneers and snark, the cruel quips and jabs. Behind the carefully constructed walls guarding my hardened heart.

I did not make it easy, but Harry assumed the arduous task with an annoying tenacity befitting a Gryffindor and the crafty determination of a Slytherin. Brick by brick, my aloof exterior broke down to reveal a sensitive soul and fragile ego. Years of cowering and conforming yielded to freedom of self never obtainable before.

And I looked good!

Better than good. Majestic. Breathtaking. Sumptuous.

Carding my fingers through my fine blonde hair, I surveyed my reflection and swished the weightless Eau de Nil fabric around my fit frame.

A dark and eager face appeared over my shoulder.

“It’s beautiful on you, dear,” Harry murmured, baritone voice like melting honey, and placed a chaste kiss on my sinewy shoulder.

No other could make me simultaneously vulnerable and confident. No other was afforded the privilege of glimpsing the juxtaposition.

Leaning back against Harry’s solid chest, I shivered in anticipation as a tenuous golden strap — guided by Harry’s graceful fingertips — slid down my shoulder. The digits floated along my eggshell flesh, goosebumps trailing in their fiery wake.

Thousands of fluttering snitches erupted in my chest, sending a cascade of desire coursing through every inch of my body.

AO3

19 notes - Posted January 25, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[youtifulhobi]

Milkshakes in Winter [KTH]

➴ Pairing: Taehyung x reader | WC: 3.6k | Genre: fluff | Rating: PG-13

➴ Warnings: mentions of injuries sustained due to a car crash, mentions of gambling, THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR @bangtanhome​ ‘s FIC CRUISE CONTROL

➴ Tags: slice of life AU, waiter!Taehyung, fashion columnist!YN, eventual fashion designer!YN, strangers to lovers, love at first sight

➴ Summary: What started off as an honest mistake by the newest waiter at By George’s diner turns into your love story and legacy as a fashion columnist and fashion-designer wannabe.

➴ A/N: this is part of the 1950s Bangtan Collab hosted by the lovely admins over at @houseofbangtan​ ! Thank you for thinking of me c:

Thank you to my darling @bangtanhome for beta reading this and offering their opinion! You were super helpful during my writers’ block and I couldn’t have finished this a whole THREE days EARLY (wow, Bells not posting late? Someone get the doctor, something’s not right) | Thank you to my soulmate @joheunsaram who helped me plan my fic and listened to me complain about my writers’ block (does anyone sense a pattern or is it just me?) | And finally, thank you to my Swan, the lovely @taegularities​ for also beta reading this!!!! I would insert a quippy joke here but I’ve written for like 6 hours straight and my brain is absolute mush right now 😔

Do not redistribute or plagiarise on any other platforms (including but not limited to wattpad, youtube, instagram, facebook).  I only use tumblr and AO3 as of the time of posting.  If I find my work plagiarised or redistributed without consent, I will not hesitate to take legal action.

“Y/N, someone bought you a milkshake.” You looked up from the gossip column you’d been reading, surprised.

“Who was it? Was it the guy in the grey felt hat?” You uncrossed your legs, taking the time to smooth out the crease that had appeared in your favourite winter skirt. 

Annie smiled at you. “No, it wasn’t Dale. He’s spoken for, sugar.”

You felt yourself blush prettily, ashamed at having assumed who your admirer was. Upon seeing your sheepish expression, Annie’s soft smile widened and she decided against teasing you. “Taehyung over there bought you that milkshake.”

You cocked your head to the side. “Taehyung? I haven’t heard of him. Is he new?”

“Look at you, you really are one of our regulars. You even know the staff better than the owner,” Annie chirruped, handing you two napkins before you had the chance to ask for them. You tried not to giggle at her offhand remark about George, who, despite her quips, she had a soft spot for. Though the elderly man was kind, lovely, and always had a moment for anyone who wanted to chat, his memory was notoriously poor, often misremembering even his grandchildren’s names. 

“Yes, Taehyung is new. It’s his first day, actually, but it seems like he’s already sweet for you, which is no surprise. Your mama raised you well, sugar. Such a well-mannered and genteel young lady. If only my Francesca would take after you…”

You smiled demurely at her comment, used to her grumbling. For all the complaining she did, Annie had a heart of gold and would never pass on an opportunity to help someone in need. In fact, there was nobody in your little town that Annie hadn’t helped in some way, shape, or form. 

After receiving a tip that Taehyung would be out in a few minutes, you returned to the newspaper, intent on knowing the latest gossip, but ended up sketching a new pair of pants in your beloved sketchbook. You made sure to take care to smudge the graphite lines with your brown leather gloves instead of your white silk ones. If you ruined yet another pair of expensive silk gloves, you would be in for the scolding of the decade, no matter the fact that you were perfectly capable of buying another pair.

‘If only you’d been more careful, you wouldn’t have to waste such a handsome pair of gloves!’ your mother would chastise, waving your gloves in the air.

She had a point, you supposed. After all, nothing in life was forever. What if the world had a finite amount of resources? You’d just be burning through pairs of gloves for no good reason. 

You shook your head. You weren’t sure where these sudden thoughts came from sometimes. Maybe you'd listened to one too many philosophical talks on the radio.

You turned to your milkshake, assessing the white and brown concoction with a wary expression. A shiver ran up your spine when your gloved hand came into contact with the cold glass, the layers of fabric between your palm and the vessel not enough of a barrier to prevent the iciness from seeping into your bare skin.

“Ooh, that’s cold,” you murmured to yourself, rubbing your fingertips together in an attempt to warm them.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t really thinking when I got you that milkshake. A hot drink would have probably been better, wouldn’t it?” A deep, velvety voice startled you out of your reverie and you looked up, only to freeze in place, your pencil falling from your sketching hand and rolling down the counter.

Taehyung was beautiful. With golden-brown locks neatly slicked back, a chiselled jaw, piercing caramel brown eyes and plush lips curved upwards into an apologetic smile, he was the most beautiful gentleman you’d ever seen.

“Here, miss, your pencil.” He held out your runaway sketching pencil between two long and elegant fingers. For a moment, your brain short-circuited and you forgot how to move your fingers, but thankfully you remembered before long.

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear with your free hand before taking the pencil from his grasp, a faint warmth spreading across your cheeks.

“Thank you, kind stranger. Taehyung, I presume?” you asked. He nodded, a light chuckle escaping his lips. Your heart leapt several inches up into your throat at the musical sound, but you tried not to let it show, instead smiling coyly at him. “Well, mister…”

“Kim,” he supplied helpfully. 

“Well, mister Kim,” you continued. “I just happened to be overheating in this new cashmere top, so thank you.”

Taehyung blushed at your thanks, still slightly embarrassed at having forgotten that milkshakes weren’t often ordered during winter, and for good reason.

“But go on, I’m sure you’re a busy man. I don’t flock to this diner weekly for no reason, you know. But maybe...I have a reason to pop in more often now,” you suggested, batting your eyelashes just enough to ensure that Taehyung would understand your meaning.

You pressed your gloved fingers to your mouth to hide the smile that graced your lips as Taehyung’s blush became more prominent, previous bravado forgotten. With a jerky head movement, he bowed to you before leaving.

You watched absentmindedly as he walked away, bringing your milkshake to your lips as you thought about what to write for your fashion column. Perhaps you could write something about staying warm in winter?

Ladies, if you’re prone to getting extra chilly in winter but like wearing dresses and skirts, consider wearing a warm woolen shawl outside your coat! Wool retains body heat and can provide an extra layer of insulation against the biting wind. Otherwise, consider pairing loafers with cigarette pants and a long coat.

You hummed in equal parts satisfaction and frustration. It was good content for your column, but it wasn’t what you were looking for. Twirling your pencil between your fingers, you stared at the largely empty sketchbook page in front of you before hesitantly pushing the lead tip against the parchment, letting your instincts take over.

Taehyung didn’t have a productive first day at the diner. He was too busy staring at you, much to Annie and George’s amusement. His customers were less happy, often shaking their heads when they were made to repeat an order because Taehyung had been off in la-la-land. 

He watched as your eyebrows furrowed together in concentration as you stared at your sketchbook, sometimes leaning back to peer at it before nodding your head. Other times, you’d shake your head, and the ‘v’ between your eyebrows grew as you silently displayed your displeasure. He wondered what you were working on, but he was too shy to approach you, having used up all his courage to introduce himself.

You stayed at the diner for most of the day and only lifted your head with a start when you felt a warm hand on your shoulder, George’s soft spoken voice sounding near your ear. 

“Miss, it’s time for us to close. You’ve been here for hours.”

“Oh my. Is it half past nine already? Goodness, I’ll be in for a scolding when I get home,” you lamented, glancing at the clock. “Do you want me to walk you home, George? It’s cold and snowing outside, and I wouldn’t want you to fall.”

The elderly man beamed at your offer, eyes lighting up like the gas lamps that lined the sidewalks in the town square. “If you wouldn’t mind, miss. Tea and Annie are coming as well. I’m a very lucky old man to have such lovely individuals looking after me, aren’t I?”

You smiled at him, clasping his hands between yours. Some time during your inspiration-fuelled madness, you’d taken your gloves off, wanting a better grip on your pencil, and had placed both your leather and silk gloves into your purse. George’s wrinkled hands felt soft in yours, and very fragile. Suddenly, you were overwhelmed with a surge of affection and a sense of protectiveness over the grandfatherly figure, and you held his hand tightly in one of yours after you’d packed your purse.

“Wait, George, you said Annie and who are coming with us?” You turned to the frail body next to you and looked at him concerningly as his earlier words sunk in.

“Tea! The young ‘un that started working today,” George replied in a slightly shaky voice, giving you a small gummy smile. “Oh dear. Did I remember his name wrong? He had a name I wasn’t familiar with, so I used tea as an analogy to help me remember…”

Oh. Your eyebrows knitted together in equal parts affection and heartbreak as George’s smile faded into a frown, and your heart clenched in love for the old man. Oftentimes, you thought old George was too pure for this world, and here he was, proving you correct again. 

“That’s okay, George. It can be a nickname! I can’t think of anyone who wouldn’t be flipped to have one from you!” You squeezed his hand as you smiled at him, only to throw your head back and laugh when he looked at you blankly. “Flip means ‘excited’, George.”

Understanding dawned on George’s face and he beamed at you. “You ankle-biters and your slang. I can’t keep up with all these new terms you’re coining these days!”

“I wonder how many times you heard that phrase when you were my age in the 1890s, George,” you teased. 

George let out a lighthearted chuckle, shaking his head. “My, my, you really are a sassy one, aren’t you? The young ‘un will have his hands full with you.”

Before you had a chance to ask what he meant, Annie and Taehyung emerged from the employees’ break room, changed into their own clothes. Your breath caught in your throat when you locked eyes with Taehyung, a familiar warmth heating your cheeks as your heart fluttered.

“Shall we?” Annie asked, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “Sugar, come take care of Taehyung for me. I’m sure he’ll feel more comfortable with someone his age than an old lady like me.”

You felt your cheeks heat when your gaze met Taehyung’s, a complicated expression on his face. In his eyes was a twinkle similar to Annie’s, but at the same time it was clouded with uncertainty, as if he was equally as lost as you. Or perhaps he was apprehensive. You weren’t sure which one it was, but it set off butterflies in your tummy all the same.

The pleasant fluttering in your stomach grew when Taehyung offered his arm for you to latch onto, ever the gentleman. With a demure smile, you took it, looping your arm through his and holding onto his bicep. He was lean. Not overly muscular, but definitely not weak. Your cheeks dusted with a pretty pink at the thought of Taehyung lifting you by your waist and turning in a circle, holding you close to him all the while.

You shook your head. You were getting ahead of yourself, and such thoughts were unbecoming of a lady of your upbringing. You’d merely exchanged a few sentences, and nothing more. It was too early for these kinds of thoughts, so why did they linger and bring you a feeling of excitement you hadn’t felt in years?

“Is everything alright, miss Y/L/N?” His baritone voice broke you out of your stupor, and you realised you’d stopped walking, leaving a sizeable gap between the duo in front of you. You blinked.

“Oh, yes, mister Kim. Everything is alright, thank you. I was just preoccupied with my thoughts. Let’s catch up to Annie and George, shall we?” Ignoring the unspoken question in his eyes, you tugged lightly on Taehyung, earning a gentle chuckle from him as the two of you hurried to catch up, sheer mists of snow powder flying as you strode quickly to make up for lost time.

“So…” he began again, this time with an uncertain edge to his voice. “Pardon me for being nosy, but I couldn’t help but notice that your nose was nearly glued to your booklet by the time the diner closed. What’s gotten you so hooked that you spent the entire afternoon scribbling?”

You gave Taehyung an easy smile, telling him how you ran the town’s fashion column and how you’d gotten inspiration for a clothing line, making sure to stress that you were not a fashion designer, but merely dreamed of being one.

“I saw a few of your designs,” Taehyung commented. “I thought they were nice.”

You beamed at him, grateful for the compliment. Though you had faith in your fashion sense, the same couldn’t be said for your designs. After all, your fashion column was something you had experience in after writing for several years, but designing was unchartered territory. If anything, you worried if designing something both men and women could wear was too bold a move; something that would ultimately undermine your credibility.

The two of you walked in a comfortable silence, each lost in your own thoughts. After a few minutes, you suddenly found yourself blurting out your fears to Taehyung, not knowing what came over you. There was simply something about his laid-back personality that made it easy to confide in him, a niggling feeling that no matter what, he wouldn’t judge you.

And he didn’t  — Kim Taehyung was the last person to judge someone. Maybe he would have been more likely to do so a few months ago, but after everything that happened with Namjoon and the way Namjoon nearly paid with his life for Taehyung’s gambling debts… no, Taehyung wasn’t one to judge; especially not with something so progressive as unisex clothes.

Noticing that the hand on his bicep was trembling slightly, Taehyung looked over at you and placed a warm palm over yours. “Don’t be nervous. I’m not here to judge. In fact, if anything, I should be the one who’s being judged.”

Upon seeing the question in your eyes, the corners of Taehyung’s lips quirked up in a sad smile and he told you the story of how a few too many rounds of lost card games led to a massive $15,000 gambling debt and how Namjoon had taken on what could only be described as the single most dangerous street race of his life, fighting his morals and nearly losing his life as a result of said race.

You listened in silence, eyes wide. But his fears were wholly unnecessary, for there was nobody you respected more than someone who owned up to his mistakes instead of sweeping them under the carpet. So to answer his question, yes, you were shocked that the seemingly soft spoken Taehyung was capable of gambling to this extent, but it wasn’t the worst thing that you’d heard of, and you weren’t going to place the blame entirely on Taehyung.

Sure, it’d been his fault that he’d let his gambling habit run on for so long, but when it came to settling the bill, so to speak, Namjoon had willingly offered to help, knowing the consequences. It wasn’t like Taehyung had held his friend at gunpoint to help him, so despite the nightmarish outcomes of the race, it wasn’t wholly his fault.

You told him thus, and his expression softened upon hearing your unbiased view. For so long, he’d been quietly shouldering the burden that he’d caused his best friend’s accident, and though he had healed well, every glance at Namjoon had reminded Taehyung of his actions. But with your words echoing in his mind, maybe Taehyung could finally put this behind him, as Namjoon had.

With the weight lifted off his shoulders, Taehyung became more jovial, and it took you a while before you realised that Annie and George were long gone, having heard your giggles and taking the hint to take another road home to give you privacy.

You found yourself downcast when Taehyung stood with you on your porch, not wanting to separate from him. You’d had a lot more fun today than you had in a long time, and you had Taehyung to thank for that. 

The two of you stood in silence, nightly noises absorbed by the blanket of snow that sat upon bare branches and snoozing shrubs. It was a quiet night, the only audible sound being your breathing. Taehyung shifted from foot to foot before he took your hands in his, smiling at you shyly.

“I had a wonderful time tonight, miss Y/L/N,” he began.

“Y/N,” you interrupted with a smile. “I think after soothing my worries and spilling your soul to me, a mere stranger, the least I can do is to offer you my first name.”

“Y/N,” Taehyung repeated with an earnest smile of his own. “Thank you. Thank you for listening to me, thank you for not judging, and thank you for helping me to put my past behind me, where it belongs.”

He paused, as if he were unsure of what else to say. 

“You’re very welcome, mister Kim,” you replied after a beat. 

“Taehyung,” he said simply. “I think after soothing my worries and spilling your soul to me, a mere stranger, the least I can do is offer you my first name.”

He grinned at you, parroting your words. You let out an unladylike snort and smacked his arm gently, to which his grin became a tender smile, and he leaned down to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

Your breath caught and your eyes became lidded as you waited and hoped with bated breath for him to take the next step, limbs frozen like the icicles on the bare branches of the apple tree that resided in your backyard.

And the next step he took, hooking an index finger under your chin and tilting it up to press his lips against yours. The kiss was soft, sweet, hesitant, and so, so warm. It filled you with a feeling that you could only explain as weightlessness, giddiness, joy, and excitement all rolled into one.

The chill that had settled in your bones from the long walk home melted, the warmth of your shared kiss chasing it away as arms snaked around waists and shoulders to hold each other closer. You chased his lips and he chased yours, neither willing to let go, but knowing you had to. 

When you finally parted, your breaths came in puffs, visible in the cold winter air. You gave Taehyung a shy smile, previous bravado gone, and you tucked your head into the knitted fabric of his coat when he drew you close.

Excitement coursed through your veins and your heart hammered in your chest, beating so hard that you were sure Taehyung could feel it, but the embarrassment you felt at having him know how much you liked him gave way to acceptance and a sense of belonging when his hand came up to stroke your hair. 

With a smile, you pulled back to look at him, whispering a soft “good night” as you stood on your tiptoes and pressed your lips to his cheek.

Taehyung responded in kind, one hand coming up to cup your face as the other remained on your waist to help you keep your balance.  “When will I see you again?”

You smiled into your kiss. “Tomorrow.”

You didn’t have to see Taehyung’s face to know that he was smiling  —  it was evident in his voice, from the way it lilted as he replied: “Milkshake or hot chocolate?”

“Definitely a milkshake. There’s nothing better than a milkshake in winter, don’t you think?”

2 years later

“One milkshake for my beautiful girl.” 

You started, the pencil jumping out of your grip and rolling down the counter, only to be stopped by a familiar set of elegant fingers.

“Taehyung! You scared me!” you chided, though you couldn’t stop the smile that grew on your face.

“Just a celebratory drink for my fiancée, the most brilliant and innovative fashion designer of her era!” Taehyung lifted his own milkshake in a toast, dressed in a crisp emerald green suit with his golden hair slicked back.

“And here’s to my wonderful, handsome fiancé, co-manager of the best diner in town. Isn’t that right, George?”

George flashed you a toothy smile from his spot in the corner, showing off the new dentures you, Taehyung, and Annie had chipped in to buy. Age had caught up to him and he was no longer able to walk around as briskly as he was two years ago, so he’d given his title to his two most trusted employees.

“Here’s to By George, without which I’d still be a lonely bachelor!” Taehyung cheered, sipping at his milkshake before shuddering. “Y/N, I don’t know how you do it. It’s the middle of winter, how do you still drink these?”

You shrugged with a smile, swirling the creamy concoction in front of you. “Nostalgia, I guess.”

“Nostalgia,” Taehyung snorted. “Why don’t we send old George home? It’s getting late. Annie!” he hollered.

“Give an old woman some time to get dressed, Taehyung!” Annie emerged from the staff room, holding onto a creamy beige coloured coat identical to the one she had on. “George, let me help you put this on. I don’t want you catching a cold.”

Happy tears welled in your eyes when you turned to look at Taehyung, who was wearing the same coat as Annie and George. 

With a gentle smile, Taehyung wiped away a stray tear with his thumb and helped you wear your gloves before holding your hand and tucking it into his pocket.

“Sugar, George wants to know what you named your debut clothing line!” Annie called from the doorway where she had a hand wrapped around one of George’s wheelchair handles.

Sniffling, you smiled through teary eyes as you responded, forever cementing your mark on the fashion world as an ode to how you and your husband-to-be had met.

“Milkshakes in Winter.”

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this fic. Please consider reblogging so that others are able to find my work! It gives me a lot of motivation to continue writing.

MList

“Milkshakes in Winter [KTH]” is © copyright @hobiandsprite​​ 2021, all rights reserved.

[miyagihawk]

it's not an ask, but i don't know if i can send it on your chat, so... i saw your post about a song and a character from cobra kai and automatically thought of sk8r boi (avril lavigne) and robby 😩😩😩 have a nice day and don't forget to drink water 💞

THANK U FOR THE REQUEST i love this song sm

sk8r boi | robby keene x reader

warnings: swearing, some catcalling

summary: he was a skater boy! she said see you later boy! he wasn’t good enough for her! (hehe)

“Come on Riley, Mom wants us home by 6 and we still have to get stuff from the store,” you crossed your arms, annoyed at your brother. He ignored you, dipping down, wheels first, into the concrete bowl.

You shifted on your feet, feeling uncomfortable standing at the skate park with your ballet attire still on. You’ve just come back from rehearsal, and you had to pick up Riley because Mom was working a late shift.

“Shit Riley, I didn’t know your sister was hot. Qué pasa ballerina?” one of his friends winked at you, making you roll your eyes in disgust.

“Hey, do a little twirl for us princess,” another boy whistled and you glared at the group.

Pigs. Boys are pigs.

“Riley, let’s go,” you said firmly, turning away and heading to your car, leaving him with no choice but to follow if he didn’t want to walk home.

Your brother’s friend group of skaters hollered and whooped as Riley caught up to you, and you had to focus on your breathing to calm your anger. You hate being made fun of, but you reminded yourself that they were just a bunch of stupid, hormonal, punks.

“Your friends are assholes,” you commented, and your brother only nodded in agreement.

“Hey,” a voice called from behind you, but you kept walking, assuming that it was just another guy trying to poke fun at you.

“Hey, wait,” the person said again, this time grabbing your arm to stop you.

You turned around quickly, pulling away from their grip. “What?” you snapped, meeting a pair of calm green eyes.

It was one of Riley’s friends, the one with long hair. You don’t remember him saying anything to you earlier; he seemed to be quiet.

“I just wanted to say sorry. About them. They don’t know how to talk to girls, I promise they’re not that bad,” he said, holding his skateboard at his side. His genuineness surprised you.

“So you do?”

He gave you a confused look, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Know how to talk to girls,” you clarified and he chuckled.

“I know a thing or two. I’m Robby,” the boy stuck out his hand for you to take.

“Wow you’re good,” you joked. “I’m Y/N,” you took his rough hand in your soft one.

-

After that day at the skatepark, you couldn’t stop thinking about Robby.

You don’t know what it was about him. Maybe it was his glittery eyes. Or his pretty hair. Or the way he smiled with his whole face. Or maybe it was how he talked in a way that told you he was smarter than most people.

Maybe it was all of those things that made you daydream like a schoolgirl with a crush. And all you wanted to do was see him again.

“Jenny doesn’t even deserve the variation, I mean we all saw what happened last time. She almost fell off stage! Anyone but her should have it,” your friend Abby ranted, sipping on her milkshake.

It was after rehearsal and your friend group decided to go to a diner to get food.

“It’s clearly favoritism. She could do the whole routine wrong and Ms. Adams would still choose her. I think Jenny’s parents are definitely bribing her,” your other friend Vanessa added to the gossip.

The whole time, you were half listening to the conversation and half thinking about a certain skater boy. You couldn’t even control it; your thoughts always somehow drifted to him.

“Oh my god. Skaters,” Abby whispered, making you snap out of your daydream. You looked up to see a pack of boys coming into the restaurant, holding their boards at their hips.

Among them was your little brother and your heart raced as you recognized all of them.

It was like your overflow of thoughts about him had somehow materialized right in front of you. Robby.

Your hands started to sweat and you contemplated if you should hide or say hello, or just act like you didn’t see him.

You decided to go for the latter, and you slumped down in your seat to make yourself less noticeable.

“God, look at them. Skater boys are the scum of the earth,” Abby uttered, making a face of distaste.

“I would never date one. Even that’s below me,” Vanessa scoffed in reply.

You felt your cheeks heat up at their remarks, now feeling ashamed for your growing feelings for the very thing they were so disgusted at.

“Same,” you replied, despite feeling conflict in your heart. You looked over Vanessa’s shoulder to see him laughing with his group, and his happiness made your heart warm.

Before you could look away, his eyes met yours. You cursed internally at your ruined plans of trying to ignore him, but the damage was done. You shot him a small smile and a nod before returning your gaze back to your friends.

It took everything in you to not look at him again, especially with the feeling of his stare on you.

“Holy shit. One of them’s coming over,” Abby said in a hushed tone, your stomach dropping at her words.

You looked up to see Robby heading over to your table as you panicked on the inside.

“Hey Y/N,” he said as he approached, and you looked back at his table to see his friends watching.

“Robby! Hi!” you greeted nervously. “Uh, these are my friends. Abby and Vanessa. Girls, this is Robby,” you introduced them.

“Nice to meet you,” he nodded at them, and they waved. Their smiles were definitely fake, and you could tell how hard they were judging the boy in front of you.

“So, um, do you guys come here a lot?” you tried to make conversation, but the air was too awkward to be saved.

“Not really, our usual place was closed so we came here,” Robby explained, glaring at his friends who were starting to boisterously taunt. “I should go. Sorry about them. Again. Just wanted to say hey.”

“All good,” you laughed. “See you.”

As he walked back to his table your friends turned to you, mouths agape.

“You know him?! What was that?” Abby inquired, giving you a look of disbelief.

“He’s... he’s just my brother’s friend,” you shrugged, trying to play it off.

“Just your brother’s friend. He totally had heart eyes for you Y/N!” Vanessa nudged your side, making you shake your head in denial.

You rolled your eyes, but what she said gave you butterflies. “No way, I’ve only met him once.”

“Whatever, just don’t fall into the trap. You’re too good for a skater. They��re scum, remember?” Abby said, as she chewed obnoxiously on a fry. You found yourself suddenly annoyed at her.

“Yeah, of course. I would never,” you contradicted your feelings.

They were probably right. You don’t even know Robby, and you were from completely different worlds.

-

You told yourself that you would push away your growing feelings for Robby. But you couldn’t help but be excited when you have to pick up Riley from the skatepark. You couldn’t help asking your brother maybe too many questions about him, and you couldn’t help looking out for him every time you would go to the diner with your girls.

He would always talk to you, making you giddy for the rest of the day. You found yourself wanting to see him more and more.

“So how long have you been skating?” you asked the boy beside you.

You were waiting for Riley to finish so you could go home, but you let him take his time.

“I started when I was 11, but it’s been on and off,” Robby replied. “Have you ever skated?”

You laughed at the thought of yourself on a board. “Never. It looks cool though,” you watched as your brother skated off some stairs.

“I think you’d be good at it. I mean ballet and skating are pretty much the same thing,” he grinned at you, making you blush and look away from him.

“Ballet and skating couldn’t be more different,” you disagreed.

Robby shrugged. “Wrong. Both are centered around balance. Skating, if you think about it, is choreography. Sure we’re not as graceful, but it’s not as different as you think.”

You smiled to yourself at his wiseness. “I guess you’re right.”

There’s a moment of silence between you two as you both sat at the edge of the bowl.

“So when are we starting?” he spoke, making you tilt your head in confusion.

“Starting what?”

“I’m teaching you how to skate,” he answered nonchalantly, as if he wasn’t giving you a choice.

“What? I-I can’t skate,” you stammered. The thought of you embarrassing yourself in front of him made you want to puke.

“Which is why I’m teaching you. Come on, I promise I won’t let you hurt your pretty little ballerina face,” Robby smiled.

Your head suddenly felt dizzy at his small remark. Pretty. “I don’t know Robby...”

“Tomorrow. At 5. I’ll even take you to that diner you like after. It’s a date,” he said surely, making your cheeks warm up again.

A date? Your heart fluttered at the thought of him wanting to hang out with you. Alone. On a freaking date.

“Okay, fine,” you bit your lip, trying to hold back a huge smile. “But only because of the promise of food.”

-

“I hate you,” Robby huffed as he watched you effortlessly roll past him on his skateboard.

“I can’t believe you compared this to ballet, this is so easy,” you jeered, laughing at his defeated look.

“Oh calm down Ms. Black Swan, you haven’t learned any tricks yet,” he stood up, walking over to you. “I’m going to teach you an ollie.”

He grabbed the board and stood on it, leaning down on the edge with one foot so that the board was wheels up on the other side. “Just do that.”

Robby handed you the skateboard, and you copied everything he did. Except you lost your balance and the wheels slipped from underneath you. You grabbed onto his shoulders as a reflex.

Your breath hitched as Robby’s placed his hands on your hips to steady you, and your faces were inches away. He was so close that you could feel his breath and see the pattern of his eyes.

“Not so easy, is it now?” he said softly, still holding onto you. The air was now filled with a thick tension and you felt woozy from being so close to him.

“I... I guess not,” you fumbled over your words, feeling incredibly nervous looking into his eyes.

None of you were pulling away, and you weren’t sure if you should be the first to do so.

“Can I kiss you?” Robby whispered, making you breathless. You were sure that he could hear your heartbeat, because it felt like it was consuming you.

You only nodded, feeling speechless, and he leaned in to press your lips together.

It was everything you’ve ever dreamed of. And you dreamed about it a lot.

-

“You’re so much different from your friends. How come?” You chewed on a fry, questioning the boy sitting in the diner booth in front of you.

Robby tapped his lip in thought. “I don’t know. Maybe I just balance out the group. You’re different from your friends too. I mean I’ve only met them once, but I don’t think they like me,” he replied, and you cringed at the memory of your friends being so judgmental.

“That makes sense. And sorry about them. They can be... mean,” you apologized on their behalf, almost in the same way that Robby would for his friends.

“Speak of the devil,” Robby looked behind you, making your eyes widen. You turned around and there they were. Abby and Vanessa. You didn’t even care that they were hanging out with you; you were worried that they would see you with Robby.

You slumped down in your seat like you did when you were trying to hide from Robby before. “We should go now, right? It’s getting pretty late.”

Robby gave you a weird look, “Um... sure.”

“Y/N?” a dreaded voice called your name before you could make your escape.

You faced your two best friends. “Hey guys,” you said sheepishly as they walked up to your table.

“What are you doing with him? Oh my god, are you two on a date?” Abby gasped.

Vanessa joined in, “You said you’d never date someone like him. Oh come on Y/N, you know he’s not good enough for you. What happened to boys like him are below us?”

Robby’s face flashed with pain, but you were so selfish that you didn’t even notice.

“No- I- We’re just friends, I swear it’s not a date. I would never-” you stuttered, trying to save yourself, and you didn’t even think of Robby’s feelings at all. In the moment you only cared about your reputation and what your friends thought of you.

The boy you liked so much got up from the booth, throwing a wad of cash on the table. You felt your heart break as he walked away without a word and clenched fists.

You got up to follow him, but your friends pulled you back. “Just let him go Y/N. He’ll just break your heart,” Abby said coldly.

You ripped your arm away from their grip, running through the diner to catch up to Robby.

“Robby! Please, stop, I’m sorry,” you called after him, trying to keep up with how fast he was walking.

He ignored you the first time, increasing his pace.

“Please, Robby, can we just talk about it? I’m stupid, okay? Don’t go,” you pleaded, and he finally stopped in his tracks.

You’ve never seen his face like that, a mixture of anger and pain. The fact that it was directed towards you made you want to just melt away.

“You want to talk? Am I even good enough to talk to you? I’m sorry, should I be on my knees right now your majesty?” he said angrily, and you felt like crying.

You shook your head, “No, no Robby I swear I don’t think of you that way. I said things that I don’t mean and I’m so sorry. I- I just... my friends were saying all this shit about-”

“Just- just stop. You’re saying different things to different people, and I’m just supposed to trust you? And what, was I just going to be a secret? Look, I have to go,” he turned around to keep walking but you took his hand.

“I was going to tell them Robby, I like you so much and please, I’ll fix it. I’ll talk to them and-”

He cut your frantic rambling off again, “Y/N... I like you too alright? And I get it. I get wanting to fit in with your friends, even if you don’t agree with them. I learned from it myself. I just need time to think about all of it.” He sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

You nodded in understanding, but your heart was hurting. “I’m sorry,” you said one last time before he took off on his skateboard.

a/n: why was that sm longer than i planned... also sorry for any mistakes im too lazy to edit. there probably won’t be a part 2 because the song doesn’t have a happy ending lol hope u enjoyed!!!!

[donteattheappleshook]

There is a Pirate in the Dungeon

Summary: 

There is a pirate in the dungeon. All the serving girls are too afraid to go down the steps and bring him his meal. All but one.

This fic is based on a beautiful little story from The Starless Sea that just screamed of Captain Swan so strongly that I couldn't resist.

***

Happy Birthday to @elizabeethan​  who supported this fic and is just an all around great friend and writer <3

Thanks to @kmomof4​ and @the-darkdragonfly​ for looking this over!

***

There is a pirate in the dungeon. All of the servants are in a flurry over it, gossip filling the halls of the Evil Queen’s palace. They say it’s him. Him who? You know, him, with the hook. The girl pays little mind to it. There is always someone in the dungeon. It doesn’t take much to upset the queen. One foot out of place, one word out of turn. 

There are always people in the dungeon. Some are former servants, some former friends, some simply people who had the misfortune of crossing her path on a bad day. In fact, this pirate may be one of the few - if not the only - prisoner being held for any real crime. But the girl keeps her head down and goes about her work. No need to get involved. No need to stand out. 

***

The pirate sits in the dungeon. He finds himself bored. It’s a strange emotion to have when facing down one’s inevitable end, but it’s the emotion he feels all the same. He wonders when Death will come. He wonders if this time he will stay, if they’ll meet like old friends, if Death will smile - not in self satisfaction, but in fondness for this game they’ve played so long. It’s only fair. He’s slipped through Death’s fingers so many times, it was bound to be his turn sooner or later. 

A key hangs on the wall, six feet away from his cell, a tease of freedom just out of reach. He appreciates the metaphor. The guard is old, and drunk, and asleep most of the time. In a past life, the pirate may have attempted escape, may have hatched some elaborate ruse to win back his liberty. But he is old now - though he does not look it - and he is tired. And so he sits in his cell, bored, and waiting for death. 

***

The girl does her best to ignore the chatter, but it follows her everywhere. She hears it in the kitchen, ears catching the whisper of a name, or perhaps a title. She hears it in the hallways, a guess at what he’d done to earn his date with the gallows. She hears it in the small bedroom that she shares with another girl, a rumor of his terrifying reputation, of a man more monster than human. But she isn’t afraid. There’s no such thing as monsters. 

***

On the first night of his captivity, a girl comes into the dungeon carrying a tray of food and water. The pirate makes the mistake of standing too close to the bars, of looking over perhaps a tad too suspiciously, too threateningly, and the girl gasps, dropping the plate and running from the dungeon in fear. The guard wakes, and shrugs, and the pirate goes hungry. 

On the second night there is a new serving girl. She makes it halfway across the room before the candlelight gleams off his hook and she stumbles. Half the food and water spill from her hands before she sets it on the floor far enough from the bars that he needs to remove his hook and use it to pull the tray close enough to have what’s left. 

The third night no girl comes at all, though he hears her retreating footsteps at the top of the stairs. By the fourth night, the pirate has resigned himself to dying of starvation. It’s not quite the death he’d always pictured for himself, but he supposes it’s as fitting as any other. 

The guard is asleep again when the girl comes down the stairs on the fifth night, this one also new and more striking than any of the other servants who have fled from him. More striking than most women he’s ever seen and suddenly something that had started to go out in the pirate’s heart begins to stir. 

There’s a wariness about her, a hesitation as she approaches, but there is no fear, and it surprises him. As she approaches the bars, she meets his eyes and he watches in wonder as the doubt melts from her features, making way for confusion, relief, and even, he thinks, disappointment. It makes him laugh and he nearly startles at the sound of his own voice after so many days of silence. The girl, however, does not startle. 

She sets the tray in front of him and he thanks her. That does startle her. He wonders briefly if it’s at seeing manners in a prisoner or from having become accustomed to never being thanked for her work at all. 

The girl studies him, gaze falling over his face and his greatcoat, settling finally on his hook before finding their way back to his eyes. He wonders what she finds there, what she may have been looking for. He takes the chance to study her himself, her long golden hair and bright eyes, the rags she wears unable to disguise a certain dignity with which she carries herself.

He holds her gaze for a long moment, neither compelled to speak as they take each other in and draw their conclusions. Soon, however, his stomach cries for him to eat the bread which she’s brought him and he’s too tired and too hungry to deny it. But as he takes note of the thinness of her cheeks and the smudges below her eyes he feels a certain obligation towards her, a long forgotten sort of duty.

The pirate tears the bread in two and holds one half out through the bars. The surprise returns to her face and he wonders at the fact that it’s kindness that seems to scare her, rather than danger. She watches him, closely, carefully, more curiously than she has yet, and he’s stunned when an older - younger - version of the pirate makes himself known, one he hasn’t seen in years, but that he hopes is still worthy of this girl’s scrutiny, perhaps even of her trust. 

She takes the bread from his hand and neither miss the way his fingers brush across her wrist as she pulls back. But she doesn’t recoil. She doesn’t run. 

“You’re not afraid of me, are you?” the pirate asks, trying to remember the last time his presence wasn’t met with fear or dread. 

She considers him a moment before answering, her voice low so as not to wake the guard. “I’ve met scarier men than you,” she says, and he believes her. 

“I’m sorry,” he tells her, because he is, and because he doesn’t know what else to say. He himself has met few scarier men. 

The girl does not stay to eat her bread. The guard begins to stir and she hurries out of the room before he can ask her name. The pirate cannot chase after her. He would like to, but the bars pose a certain problem. When the guard wakes he finds the pirate with his forehead pressed softly to the iron rods of his prison, a soft, faraway look in his eyes. He does not, the guard notes, look at all like a pirate anymore. 

***

The girl walks swiftly down winding steps that lead from the kitchen, which is on the second floor of the palace, deep underground to the damp, carved out tunnels that serve as a dungeon. She doesn’t pay attention to the strange looks she receives from the other serving girls, or the judgemental ones she receives from the men. She is the first to make this trip twice since the pirate’s arrival and it has earned her the distrust of her coworkers. 

“Aren’t you afraid of him? Haven’t you heard what he’s done?”

“He’s behind bars,” she answers simply whenever this question is posed. But she knows that the bars are irrelevant. She does not fear the pirate. 

She is more concerned with the second question, that of what he has done. The girl, who grew up near the palace and was orphaned near the palace and now works in the palace, has never done anything, not truly, not anything worthwhile or worth remembering. 

She wonders how many places outside this palace the pirate has seen. She wonders how many places outside this kingdom he has visited, or perhaps even, outside this realm. She decides that she’ll ask him to tell her about them. The worst he can say is “no” and then her life will be no different than it was when she woke up this morning. She thinks however that if he says “yes”, it could be a little bit better. 

When the pirate sees her coming down the stairs he looks surprised, and then relieved, and then pleased. A small smile pullis at the corner of his lips and she feels it makes him look even less the terrifying monster those upstairs believe him to be. He looks young, his eyes which yesterday had betrayed an ancientness of one who has lived many lives, perhaps, more lives than they’d have liked, are now bright and anxious like a boy’s. 

The guard is predictably asleep and the girl makes her way to the bars where the pirate waits and hands him his food. He takes it with a thank you, as he had yesterday, and while she’d expected it, she was still not prepared for it and it catches her off guard, her cheeks flushing. Then her cheeks flush at her embarrassment over her cheeks flushing in the first place. 

He is handsome, dark hair and dark lashes framing blue eyes and a soft smile contrasted by a strong jaw. But she has seen handsome men before and paid them little mind. She wonders what it is that is different about this one. Whatever the difference, it makes her lose her nerve, and with no other reason to be here, and no question bold enough to ask, she turns to take her leave. 

“Wait,” the pirate says, and the girl stops, glancing back. “Will you tell me your name?” he asks. When she does not answer, he speaks again. “If I’m to see you again, I’d like to be able to thank you properly for your service. If I’m not, then I’d like a name to associate with the memory of you.” 

The girl is grateful for the darkness in the dungeon, and the distance that hides her stricken expression. “Emma,” she tells him, and he smiles at her in the same youthful way he had before. She offers a clumsy curtsy, and leaves. 

When she returns the following night, the girl has slipped whatever extra treats she could find onto the tray. A roll of bread with honey stolen off a table while serving breakfast, meat leftover from the servant’s dinner, and a small, baked good that the queen had sent back. She imagines the pirate must be hungry. She is only sent to bring him food once a day and there are no other servants making trips to the dungeon.

He looks relieved, and then happy to see her. And then something crosses his expression that she doesn’t recognize. Likely, because no one has ever looked at her like that. She finds that she likes it. She hands him the tray, watching a little too eagerly as he notices the contents. He smiles, one eyebrow jumping up, the pull of his lips lopsided, and it spreads warmth through her belly. 

“Thank you,” he says, adding “Emma” to the end. It’s the first time he’s said her name, and Emma is surprised at how much she likes hearing him say it. 

The guard is asleep, and she imagines he will be for a while, his snores resonating annoyingly through the room. She wonders if the pirate gets much sleep. She imagines it would be hard to sleep with the threat of impending death looming over her. But she imagines it would be even harder to sleep with the guards snores echoing in her ears. Either way, the guard seems unlikely to wake, so she chances stealing a little more time in the pirate’s company. 

He watches her as she makes her decision, and when he offers up some of his meal again to share, she accepts it. She feels guilty, taking his food, but it allows her the excuse to step closer to the bars and to brush her fingers carefully against his as they had last night. 

When their hands have been touching as long as they reasonably can while passing food, perhaps even a little too long at that, the pirate pulls his arm back through the bars. She notices the hook on which he balances the tray. He notices her noticing it, but says nothing. 

After a moment, he sits on the floor, resting the tray against his knee as he picks at it. While he doesn’t ask her to stay, the invitation is clear in both how close he sits to the mouth of his cell and in the way he watches her, waiting. Feeling bold, Emma sits down beside him, shoulders near close enough to touch, were it not for the bars between them. They sit silently, letting the guard’s snores fill the quiet that would be filled by their words. After a long time, Emma speaks. 

“They say you’re a captain,” she tells him, wondering if any of the gossip is true. 

“Aye, that I am,” he answers. “Or… was,” he corrects, acknowledging his current predicament. Can a captain be a captain without a ship? She takes a breath before speaking again. 

“They say you’re a pirate.” 

He smiles, mirthful, his eyebrow ticking up again. “Aye,” he says, “that too.”  Emma only nods and it seems to surprise him. She wonders if he was expecting shock, or fear, or perhaps even fascination. She gives him none of it. 

“Have you been a pirate long?” she asks then, and this time his smile is melancholy as he nods.

“Yes. Too long.” 

Emma draws her knees up, holding them in her arms as she gazes forlornly at the floor. “I can’t imagine you could ever tire of being a pirate. Not when there are so many places to see.” When she says it, she’s thinking of the freedom he must have had, the chance to go wherever he pleased whenever he pleased. But then she feels guilty, remembering where he is now. 

“I suppose you’re right,” he agrees, offering her an accepting nod. 

“And have you?” she asks, breath held in her lungs until he answers. 

“Have I what, love?”

“Been many places.” 

“Aye. More than you could imagine.” She can imagine quite a bit, but she supposes he’s probably right. 

“You must have many stories,” she suggests, and he smiles at her the same way he had when she’d asked him about being a pirate. 

“As many stories as there were places,” he promises. 

“Will you tell me some of them?” She looks at him when she asks and is met with eyes that are both old and young all at once. 

Before he can answer the guard starts to stir and she jumps to her feet. The pirate follows suit, hand reaching out to catch at the sleeve of her dress before she can leave. She turns to him and is shocked at the look in his eyes, she can’t quite place this one either, but if she had to name it, she’d call it... hope. 

“I will,” he promises. “If you come back tomorrow. And I’ll tell you more if you come back the following night, and more after that.” 

Emma meets his eyes and knows he isn’t lying. And the promise of hearing his stories is nearly as powerful as the promise of being able to sit next to him in the dungeon again, with their shoulders just close enough to touch, if not for the bars. She agrees. 

***

When Emma returns the following night, there is more food on his tray. The pirate imagines she must have stolen or kept most of it, sharing her own dinner with him. So it feels only right to share some of his own meal with her. 

He’d tried to hide his excitement at seeing her come down the stairs, though he’s sure it was written all over his face. And she’s quite perceptive, he’s noticed. It feels strange, to have something to look forward to. He never imagined being excited for or anticipating anything while in this dungeon, apart from perhaps death. He prefers it this way. 

“So what would you like to hear?” he asks after he has touched her hand and sat next to her on the dirty floor of his cell. She contemplates his question for a while, putting serious weight to her decision and he smiles. It’s been a long time since someone was so interested in learning anything about him.

“How did you become a pirate?” she asks finally, and his heart settles like a lead weight in his chest. It must show on his face because she begins to apologize. He stops her. He had not expected to have to share such a painful story so quickly, but he tells her anyway. He tells her of his childhood, uncertain why he starts so far back but the more he continues the more he feels it suits the story. 

He tells her of his upbringing on Silver’s ship, of his time in the Navy, of his brother, of everything he was and everything he himself wished to be. He tells her of his brother’s death and her eyes fill with tears, the kind that speak of understanding rather than sympathy. He’d learned long ago to spot the difference, to pick a kindred spirit out of a crowd. Tonight, he picks a twin soul out of a dungeon. 

When he has finished his story he waits for her appraisal, wonders if he did it justice. He embellished in parts, if only to make himself more dashing or the dangers greater. He could read on her face that she knew what he was doing and it only made him smile, even as she rolled her eyes. That made him do it more. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, he imagines in much the same way he had said to her that first night, and he knows then that they understand each other, perhaps in a way nobody has ever understood him before, not really. 

The guard is still asleep but he doubts they have much time left. Nevertheless he offers her another story, if only to keep her here a little longer, to watch her eyes light up with wonder and excitement as he spins his tales. Emma considers again, as carefully as she had the first time. 

“Will you tell me your name?” she asks. 

He smiles. “Killian.” 

***

Killian tells her of Neverland, of evil little boys and fairies and mermaids. He tells her of a land covered in snow, of one where sand reaches as far as the eye can see. He tells her of krakens and monsters and heroes and damsels, of kings and knights and pirate queens over the course of the following nights, each tale more fantastical than the last. But he never lies. She knows he doesn’t. He may embellish but his stories are true, and that makes them all the more unbelievable. She begins to pity the guard, who sleeps through such magical stories, but does not begrudge the privacy it allows them. 

His fingers tangle in her hair through the bars, as they do every night, playing with each stand before letting it slip delicately between his rings. He likes her hair and she likes that he likes it. He’d made a comment when she asked, about pirates being drawn to gold. She’d rolled her eyes and he’d laughed. 

“What tale would you like to hear tonight?” Killian asks, smiling that smile which always makes her stomach warm and her cheeks flush. 

She thinks carefully, as she does every night, wanting to ask the right kind of question to hear the right kind of story. With every tale he reveals more about himself, whether intentionally or not. She knows he is brave but also protective, charming, but also solitary. Dangerous, but kind. He’s seen the whole world, known countless people, but he carries a loneliness that breaks her heart in a way her own never could. 

There is a story she wants to know, one that she’s held off on asking. In part because it feels rude, because she is unaware of the rules around asking such things. But also, because she imagines this is the tale that everyone asks him, and she doesn’t want to be everybody. She hopes she can ask and still be Emma to him. 

“Will you tell me how you lost your hand?” she asks finally and his fingers still in her hair. She fears she’s crossed a line, but when she turns to face him he’s watching her with that same expression he had when he told her the first story. She knows that this will not be a fanciful tale. 

Killian nods and his fingers return their attention to her hair, his eyes fixated as he begins to speak. He tells her of a woman, of a great love and a cruel man. Of adventures and romance and the promise of happily ever after struck down by one monster’s hatred. His eyes water and she wants to ask him to stop, to beg him not to continue if it pains him so much to speak of it, even after all these years. But he finishes his story. Nothing embellished, nothing softened. And when he is finished she’s the one with tears in her eyes. 

He does not look at her, preferring to watch the strands of her hair slip through his fingers as he brushes it over her shoulder and back again. She wonders if he’s awaiting her judgement, disgust or forgiveness. Neither are fitting. There is only empathy, and anger, and a feeling she has not felt before but is certain of regardless - love. 

She reaches through the bars, takes his hook which rests in his lap in her hand and turns so that she can face him. He looks up in surprise as the movement steals the strands from his fingers, and then in greater surprise when she brings his hook to her lips before holding it to her chest, hoping he can read what she cannot say. 

He does. 

***

The following night is the last night. Killian knows this and while he’d always thought he’d leave this world with no regrets, he is left with one. He regrets not meeting her sooner, regrets time, not having enough of it, having wasted too much of it. For the first time in a century he fears death, resents it, because death will steal her from him and he is not ready to let go. But the gallows await him in the morning. 

The guard is, shockingly, awake when Emma arrives, and he flatters himself that the redness around her eyes is because she knows as well, because she will miss him as well. His heart tightens, loathing that their last night will be cut short, impeded by the presence of the guard who will prevent her from staying. But he should have known to expect more of her. 

Emma smiles at the guard, offering him something from the pitcher she carries on the tray. She imagines from his enthusiasm that it is wine or rum and he supposes he was to be offered a last drink on his last night. The guard drinks greedily and Emma continues to smile that lovely smile until he suddenly falls against the table, face colliding painfully with the wood. Killian looks at her in surprise as she comes to meet him. She shrugs.

“He’s not dead,” she dismisses and he smiles, proud and impressed. 

“Perhaps there’s a little pirate in you yet, love.” 

She gives him his food and they share it as they always do, sitting side by side yet too far apart to truly be together. Killian is aware of the metaphor here as well, though he appreciates it less than the keys on the wall. 

Tonight, perhaps because it is their last night, perhaps because she is feeling the finality of it, the grief for all that could have been and what little was, Emma slides her fingers through the bars and takes his hand, letting her fingers slide along and play with his own and his rings as he had her hair. His whole body warms from his hand, rolling through him like a wave, like the sea, like magic. 

“I thought, perhaps,” he starts but then hesitates, fingers tightening against hers. “I thought you might tell me a story,” he suggests. She watches him, eyes still red, thumb stroking along the back of his hand. “I’d quite like to know you before I die,” he admits, his voice more strained than he’d like. He realises it's not death he fears, but never seeing her again, never again touching her hair or holding her hand, never having so much as kissed her. He brings their hands to his lips and kisses her knuckles. It’s a poor substitute, but it’s something. 

She nods, eyes watery and lip caught between her teeth. She tells him of her life, of being born near the palace, of losing her parents young, of being left by them, sent to live in the castle before she even had a chance to know them, of having looked for them but only having been met with dead ends and disappointed hopes. 

She speaks of growing up in the castle, of the queen’s temper and the constant fear and he can see where her strength comes from, though he believes she may have been born with it. She tells him of a man that she believed she loved, one who left when things became too much. All her stories speak of abandonment, of loneliness and perseverance and hope, despite it all, hope. 

When it’s nearly dawn she asks if she can have one final story and he cannot deny her anything so he says yes. She asks him what he did to be imprisoned by the queen. He laughs, because there is nothing else to do. He is not a good man, he has not believed himself to be one for a long time. But he likes to think that his last deed, the one that sent him to the gallows, was. That it was one that Liam could be proud of, and Milah, and Emma. 

“I refused to kill someone for her.” Emma’s eyes widen. Clearly, this was not what she’d expected. “The Queen learned that someone in her castle had been placed there by the former king and queen, the ones she overthrew so many years ago, and that she, a girl - a daughter - had the power to destroy her. She wished me to find and kill the girl for her, as she cannot. I refused. I am many things, but a killer of innocent women, I am not.”

The booming of a drum brings his story to a certain, poetic end. It is followed by another and it is only a moment before they recognize them for what they are. The gallows await. Emma turns to him, fingers tightening against his until her knuckles are white, eyes wild. 

“No,” she says with all the strength and stubbornness he’s grown to love in her. 

“Emma,” he starts, not wanting their last moments to be anger and pain and sadness. But she pulls away, standing and staring at him for what feels like an eternity as she makes up her mind. She lunges for the keys, fingers fumbling as she tries to find the right one, to fit it in the lock. “Emma,” he tries to stop her. “Go,” he warns, fearing what fate awaits her if they catch her trying to help him escape. But she doesn’t listen. He did not expect she would. 

When she finds the key the gate is wrenched open and she stands in the open doorway watching him with frantic, panicked eyes. He is frozen in place, unable to move, shaken by the risk she is taking. For him. She frowns at him then, confusion and just enough disbelief and annoyance to make him want to laugh. 

“Run!” she commands, gesturing towards the stairs. He knows he could make it, he could run now and get out before the guards catch him. He’s gotten out of more dire situations before. But he can’t. She may save him from death but the result will be the same. Either way he will be without her. Being without her when he knows she is somewhere he cannot reach is far worse.  

“What are you waiting for?” Emma demands, voice raising. “Get ou-” 

He strides forward, takes her face in his hand and kisses her. He kisses her as though this may be the last time, because he fears it will be, regardless of whether they catch him or not. But once he’s kissed her he can’t let her go. 

He’s held the whole of his world in his hand and against his lips and he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to let her go. He’s lived a very long time, and been to a great many places, but nothing has felt quite like this. Nothing has felt so much like home. 

“Come with me,” he pleads, knowing that if she says no he’ll wait here for them to come for him, because it won’t matter, not without her. 

The guards burst in, catching them with their faces still only inches apart and it takes them a moment, registering their own shock before they lunge at them, at him. Emma screams and suddenly there is a burst of white light, a light so bright that he has to shield his eyes against it. When he opens them again the guards are on the ground - breathing but unlikely to wake up anytime soon - and Emma is staring at her shaking fingers. 

She looks at him with confusion and fear, helpless he thinks for the first time in her life. He takes one of her trembling hands, kisses it softly, and asks her again.

*** 

They run. They run until they reach the shoreline, Killian gazing out at the sea, and Emma imagines them on any of the ships out there as he attempts to figure out which he could commandeer most easily. She’s quite pleased with how easily she’s taken to piracy. Or perhaps, she’s just taken to pirates. He hasn’t released her hand since they ran from the dungeon and he still won't. She’s not sure she wants him to, for fear that what happened in the dungeon might happen again.

He’s only just picked a ship and started to pull her towards it when they hear the commotion behind them. The guards have caught up to them. The Queen is with them, fury on her face. They stop only a few feet away and Killian steps forward, attempting to stand between them and her. She attempts the same, and so they end up standing side by side, hands clasped tightly, ready to face whatever comes together. 

“Well, Captain,” the Queen says. “I underestimated you. It seems you found her after all.” Emma’s breath catches, putting together the pieces of Killian’s story, of her own. Killian’s fingers only tighten around hers and she realises that he must have put it all together much sooner than she had. 

She calls for her guards and this time Killian does stand before her and the Queen has him on his knees without even taking a step, sick pleasure in her eyes as the man Emma loves gasps for breath. She screams and she cries and she begs but the Queen doesn’t stop. She won’t lose him. It’s not a question or a choice but a fact. She refuses to lose him, not when they’re so close to freedom, not when she’s only just found him. 

She isn’t sure how she does it, but before she has time to question how she does it now, or how she did it then, a light bursts from her fingers and she only just has time to see the fear in the Queen’s eyes before it engulfs them. It flows out of her. Like magic. Like love. And she’s certain that’s what it is, at least, that’s what it feels like. 

She helps Killian to his feet and he takes her hand as he had in the dungeon, thanking her. She asks if he still wants her to come with him, warns him that if she is who they think she is, the Queen will never stop hunting them. He smiles, that same smile from their first night. His fingers find her hair, slipping through the strands from her ear to the ends and letting them fall around her shoulders. 

“I’ve been hunted before,” he says. “And for far less valuable treasure.”

Someday, her parents will find her. Someday they will defeat the queen and they will ask her to come back with them. And she will, for a while. But she will always go back to him, to the adventures that wait for her in far off lands, and to the love that waits for her aboard a ship. But that is only someday. For now, the pirate takes the girl’s hand and asks her to follow him as he will follow her always, to the ends of the earth, or time. 

The End. 

*****

@kmomof4 @snowbellewells @teamhook @resident-of-storybrooke @stahlop @hollyethecurious @artistic-writer @gingerchangeling @bubblegum1425 @jackieorioncat @darkcolinodonorgasm @xhookswenchx @lfh1226-linda @searchingwardrobes @winterbaby89 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @xsajx @thejollyroger-writer @elizabeethan @carpedzem @spartanguard @tiganasummertree @demisexualemmaswan @itsfabianadocarmo @courtorderedcake @yasbio2015 @the-darkdragonfly @klynn-stormz

[itslieutenanthawkeye]

Lucky Guy

Day 7 of Jeankasa Week: College AU

AO3

Sasha and Connie dragged him forward; they’d loaded him up on caffeine that very afternoon, picked up a set of clothes for him and tried to shave his stubble. Jean hadn’t allowed them to do the latter. The night was starting, and he already felt tired.

Final exams had worn him out, consumed all his energy for the sake of a pass, for the sake of a chance of a good job in the future, a nice home for his family. Not that he had any prospects at the moment, mind you. All he seemed to have was stress, and exhaustion nowadays.

He understood that the two dragging him to the party wanted to help him wind down, but Connie had already started taking over for his family business and Sasha had graduated culinary school a year ago. They were living the adult, independent life already.

Meanwhile Jean was stuck with physics and mathematics. At least the artistic portion part of his classes was fulfilling.

“So, where’s Niccolo?” Connie asked as they got on the tramway.

“He had to close up, but he’ll meet us at the party later.” Sasha said, taking them to the long seat at the back of the tramway. Jean sat in between the two, listening to their chatter in silence. “Aren’t you going to lighten up, Jean? You look like someone just died.”

Jean lowered his head, the repetitive rattling of the cart almost lulling him to sleep. “My will to live has died.”

“Come on, man, is it that bad since Marco left?”

“That traitor.” Jean said, with a tone of voice that spoke longing instead of anger.

Marco and he had decided to study architecture together; Jean driven by his knack for drawing, Marco driven by his desire to be by his side. A year into their university course, however, he’d gotten that scholarship to study photography in Hizuru. A great, one-in-a-lifetime opportunity that didn’t come around twice.

An opportunity that would force them to stay apart for four full years. Since neither had enough money to fly back and forth and Jean had not wanted to give up his studies in Paradis, they’d decided to remain friends. They’d been friends since the beginning, after all.

After the first months of heartbreak, Jean had realized that Marco had left him with just about enough money to pay for three months of rent. Although he couldn’t blame him, Jean had gotten the habit of cursing him lowly for the past year, whenever he was forced to balance his part time job and his ridiculous physics lessons.

“I still don’t understand why you don’t get another roommate.” Connie said, scratching the back of his ear. “Are you just holding out until a cute guy shows up at your door?”

“Or girl.” Sasha added, opening a bag of potato chips sneakily.

“Oi, Sasha,” Jean said, frowning. “We’re gonna get a fine because of you.”

“I’ll pay for it,” Sasha said, waving her hand to undermine the matter. “You guys want some? They’re new spicy ones.”

Jean reached out under her jacket and took a few chips into his mouth. “I take it the restaurant is doing well? With you being okay for paying fines, I mean.”

“Niccolo said that breakfast menu I came out with put us on top. If we keep it up, in about two years we’ll be able to set our next location,” she said proudly, her mouth also half full of chips. She gave Jean a significant look. “We’ll need an architect for the place. And someone here will be almost finished with uni.”

He smiled. “Thanks. I’ll make sure to remind you.”

“You know you can ask for money, right, Jean?” Connie said, resting his back against the seat. “You don’t need to work yourself to death when you’ve got us.”

Another lazy smile came to his face. “I don’t want to be a burden to you guys.”

“You’re more of a burden when you don’t come with us to these things,” Connie said. “First, you missed all barbecue nights at Niccolo and Sasha’s. And now you didn’t want to come, and you know Reiner throws the best parties. His little cousin took down that Galliard guy the last time.”

“Isn’t she a kid?” Jean blurted out.

“She likes to sneak in to get in fights with the college kids.” Connie explained, laughing. “I think she’s been in martial arts since five or something.”

“Now that’s a surprise,” Sasha said, elbowing Connie as the tramway arrived at its next station. Jean looked at the person getting on and his breath caught. Wearing a corseted black dress, her hair up in a high ponytail and wearing a choker around her elegant neck, Mikasa Ackerman stood out as a comet across a blue sky.

“I didn’t think she’d come tonight,” Connie said. “You know, considering Eren.”

“What happened with Eren?” Jean asked.

“Don’t you check her feed?” Connie asked, wiggling his eyebrows. “You know, since you had that huge crush on her in high school and whatnot.”

“I’ve been busy.” Jean said, too tired to try and deny that crush he’d had on her in their school days, the crush that had always irked Marco somehow. “You don’t have to tell me. I’m too busy to be concerned about other people’s drama.”

“They broke up,” Connie said in a gossipy tone, as if Jean hadn’t just snapped at him. “Around six months ago. He skipped town. Didn’t want to be tied down or something, wanted to be free as birds or whatever. He’s backpacking in the continent, I think.”

Jean sat straighter on his seat. That dick. That stupid, nihilistic piece of shit. “Why didn’t you guys tell me? Isn’t Sasha her best friend?”

“Because you disappeared the whole semester, man. That’s why I told you to ask for money instead of working yourself to death,” Connie said, shaking him by the shoulder. “You miss out on parties and gossip.”

“Stop it. She’ll hear you,” Sasha said, lifting her arm to wave at Mikasa. “Hey! Mikasa, over here! Come sit with us!”

Jean felt heat in his cheeks. “Sasha, don’t. She’ll come.”

“That’s what I want.”

“I can’t talk when she looks this pretty.”

Sasha rolled her eyes. “Stop being an idiot, Jean.”

Mikasa’s eyes caught sight of them and she made her way to their seat, not bothering to hold onto anything to keep her balance as the tramway moved forward. They had known each other from high school and little things had changed about the way she moved; she carried herself with the elegance of a swan, and the strength of a mountain. He remembered teasing Eren about her being the boss in their relationship during their very last year of school, when the embers of jealousy had begun to die for Jean, and chuckled lowly at the memory of the enraged response he always received.

“Hi, everyone,” she greeted them. Sasha scooted to the side, and Mikasa sat between her and Jean, close enough for him to smell her perfume. “Are you guys going to Reiner’s?”

“Best parties in Trost.” Sasha said, offering her the bag of potato chips. “Want some?”

Mikasa dipped her hand in the bag. “Aren’t you scared you’ll get a fine?”

“She says she’ll pay it,” Connie explained, reaching over Jean and Mikasa to grab more.

“Sasha,” Mikasa said sternly. “How many more fines are you going to pay?”

“She’s paid more this month?!” Jean said.

“She has. It’s getting ridiculous, she can’t go on a tramway without getting hungry…” Mikasa stopped herself from talking and settled her eyes on him, with a vague surprised expression on her lovely pale face. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’ve been busy with work.” Jean said, shrugging, hoping that she wouldn’t see the blush in his cheeks that look of her had caused. He waited a second, wondering if he should bring up that he had, in fact, seen her. “I saw you, though. Drawing, in the Maria building.”

Understanding washed over her face, and her mouth fell open. “You should’ve said hi, Jean.” She said. “It’s a huge classroom, there’s no way I could’ve seen you.”

“I’m sorry.” Jean muttered. Truth was, he hadn’t wanted her to see him in the state he’d been in two weeks ago. With his double shifts at work and his assignments for the end of the semester, Jean had resembled a walking corpse more than a human.

Mikasa was an anthropology and history major and, much like Jean himself, worked part time jobs. However, with her looks, most of her part time jobs were related to modeling. That morning at creative drawing, she’d been hired to pose for the class covered only by a thin sheet. And despite being a class full of professionals, Jean had still not wanted the girl who resembled a goddess to see him bordering a mental breakdown.

“Have you been getting enough sleep?” She asked him.

“Does it show that bad?”

Mikasa’s mouth made a perfect O in terror. “I didn’t mean to sound like that.”

Jean chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. It shows. If uni wasn’t free, I would’ve gone broke already.”

“You need to look after your health more, Jean. Have you even been eating well? If you don’t sleep and don’t eat well, you’re just going to burn out,” Mikasa said, then froze, grabbing the hand that was going to reach out to him. “I’m sorry. I just sounded like a mother there.”

“You’re right, though.” Jean replied, smiling at her. “I haven’t been eating well. With work—”

“Is that why you haven’t been to any of the barbecues?”

“You went?”

Mikasa nodded. “We missed you.”

Jean’s head came up with a thousand names to call himself in that moment. He missed his friends enough during the semesters without the knowledge that she’d been hanging out with them at barbecue night. “I’ll make it next time.” He managed to say. “Did Armin go?”

“He’s been busy with moving in with Annie.” Mikasa said, sighing. “I don’t think I’d talk to anyone outside work if it wasn’t for Sasha and Mina.”

“Wait, Armin moved out too?” Jean asked, growing concerned. “Did those two just up and left you alone in that huge apartment?”

“Armin left me some money to pay a couple more months’ worth of rent.” Mikasa said, almost apologizing in Armin’s behalf. Jean’s fists clenched automatically; he’d seen how smitten he was with that marleyan girl, but leaving Mikasa alone to pay for that huge apartment by herself…

“Besides, I insisted,” Mikasa added with a low voice. “I didn’t want him to wallow in self pity with me when he has a perfectly lovely girlfriend.”

Jean sighed tiredly. He should’ve known. Even heart broken, Mikasa cared more about her friend’s happiness than her own economic safety. In a way, it was something that made her all the more charming in his eyes.

“Hey, are you two going to ignore us all the way there?” Connie asked, slapping the back of Jean’s head. “Why did you have to sit in between us if you’re just gonna talk to each other?”

“He’s right,” Sasha said, shaking Mikasa by the shoulder. “Mikasa, pay attention to your best friend now! She brought chips for you!”

Mikasa narrowed her eyes in Sasha’s direction. “Since when do you carry food for anyone but yourself, Braus?”

Sasha’s face contracted into a miserable expression, and she threw herself over Mikasa, hugging her while kissing her head. “Not the last name treatment, Mikasa!”

Maybe a few years ago, Mikasa would’ve thrown Sasha back onto her seat. This time, however, she limited herself to exchange an amused look with him and Connie, patting Sasha’s head in a conciliatory manner. “Alright, alright. Control yourself,” she told Sasha. “Don’t you have a boyfriend? What will Niccolo say if he sees you hugging a woman like this?”

“He’ll probably think we look hot.” Sasha replied innocently.

“What a perv.”

“Mikasa!”

_________________

The tramway took them to the west end of Trost, where high skyscrapers and fancy apartment buildings rose into the sky. The elevator took them a whole thirty floors up to Reine’rs apartment. As soon as they walked in, Jean stared at the ceramic floors, the balcony with its hot tub and view of the distant mountains in the island. When Reiner came to greet them with a hug for each, Jean held him by the shoulders.

“When did you get this rich?” He asked, baffled. How had everyone gotten rich so quick before him?

“My mother and I won the alimony trial last month,” Reiner laughed, hugging him again to then make a wide gesture with his arms at the people in the room. From the way he moved, Jean guessed he was already drunk. “Nineteen years’ worth of unpaid alimony, all paid in full!”

The crowd cheered, raising their beer bottles in the air to celebrate his makeshift toast. “Galliard, Pieck!” Reiner said, stumbling back into the crowd, being caught by the two exchange Marleyan students. “Get the karaoke machine going!”

Sasha and Connie dived into the party in full, going over to Mina, who had her hands full while pouring two bottles of vodka into a large crystal bowl filled with fruits and juice. Jean rubbed his temple; getting drunk wasn’t on his list of priorities, not with so little sleep in his system.

He turned to look at his right, realizing Mikasa stood by the door, watching the crowd move around Reiner’s apartment with apprehension. He took a couple of steps in her direction, leaning against the wall with his hands crossed over his chest, perhaps in a subconscious attempt to appear nonchalant. “See anyone you know?” He asked.

“Too many people.” She muttered in response, rubbing her arms. “Sasha said this was going to be like the barbecue.”

One would think that with her looks and strength, Mikasa would be a little more popular. She’d been an introvert since secondary school, shielded behind the personalities of her two childhood friends. And despite that a few people had managed to break through the cold outer layer of her personality (like Sasha, who’s might as well have gone through it with a war hammer) it always seemed to Jean that there as hidden sadness behind her eyes, a brake of sorts that didn’t allow her to express herself to the fullest.

“Let’s go to the balcony,” she said, pulling his sleeve. “Bring beers.”

Jean almost -almost- felt bad for Reiner’s father as they walked along the balcony. Trost had skyscrapers aplenty, but very few had a perfect look of the suburbs and mountains, and very few had an infinity pool with a hot tub included. The place must’ve costed a fortune. He could almost see his own neighborhood from this height.

They found a set of unoccupied pillowed seats at the corner, far from Reiner’s infinity pool, and sat there to watch the city in silence.

“I live there,” Mikasa said after a while, pointing south to a cluster of colorful buildings. “It’s the big tall one, with the red lights.”

“Ah, party town,” Jean said. He and Marco had tried to find a place there, but the rent had been astronomical, given its strategic location near the universities and clubs. “Was it a big change from the suburbs? That’s where you grew up in, right?”

“It was a huge change from my uncle’s house,” she said, her eyes set on the red building, amused at some memory Jean wasn’t aware of. “He was grossed out when he visited last year.”

“College neighborhood isn’t for him?”

“He said it was too dirty,” Mikasa said, sighing. “Although I’m sure he was terrified at the number of teenagers that threw themselves at him. He said I was to visit him from now on.”

Jean giggled at that. “Girls threw themselves at Levi?”

“Apparently he’s got something that makes university students go crazy.” Mikasa said, making a disgusted noise. Jean laughed again; Levi had been their teacher in middle school. How any college girl found him so appealing, he didn’t understand.

“Well, at least you can have fun in that neighborhood.” Jean said.

Mikasa made another disgusted noise. “I was only there because Eren suggested it. It was too loud for my liking. Too many creeps on the streets. And the rent is too high.”

“How did you guys manage to afford that? I mean, Eren and Armin aren’t precisely rich,” Jean said, covering his mouth as soon as he realized what he’d blurted out. “I’m sorry, Mikasa! I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” Mikasa said, shaking her head in amusement. “Eren’s brother paid for most of the rent. He works in Marley and sent him money.”

She finished with a sigh, setting her eyes on the floor for a second before taking a sip of her beer. When she turned to look at him, Jean recognized annoyance in her eyes. “Now that he’s gone, Zeke stopped paying for that big chunk of the rent.”

“And Armin moved in with Annie,” Jean finished saying.

“And I’m in that huge place all by myself,” Mikasa said, taking another sip from her bottle. “Scraping my bank account to pay utilities, taking any modeling job that comes up besides working at Sasha’s restaurant, two months behind on rent.”

“Did Sasha offer you money yet?” Jean asked, recalling all the times their friend had tried to hand him checks for his rent.

Mikasa smiled. “A couple of times. But I don’t want to be a burden to her. As good as the restaurant is doing, having her own business can be tricky. One bad luck streak and she’ll be needing that money she offers me.”

“What about a roommate?”

“Nobody I know can afford rent there. I don’t want to disturb Niccolo and Sasha, and Levi has plenty on his plate. And it’s impossible to find a place this late in the year,” Mikasa said, sighing tiredly again. “Do you know how close I am to modeling underwear? A man in this shady company offered me so much money for nudes the other day—”

“Move in with me.” Jean blurted out, and his words were followed by excruciatingly long minutes. Mikasa rested her back against the seat, scrutinizing him with those perfect, serious eyes. “I don’t mean in a weird way. I mean, my rent is much less than yours must be. But ever since Marco left, it’s been harder to afford it on my own. I could use a roommate, and all the people I’ve interviewed were weirdos.”

“Won’t Marco be angry?” Mikasa asked politely. “Won’t he be upset that a girl is living with you?”

Jean smiled. “We’re not together anymore.”

“No?” She said, looking genuinely surprised. “Why? What happened? I thought—”

“Neither wanted a long-distance relationship, or had the money to afford one,” Jean explained, surprised at the lack of pain in his words when he spoke of what had happened. Perhaps, the exhaustion throughout the year had forced his heart to get over a heartbreak quickly.

“Besides,” Jan added, arching his eyebrow in her direction. “I know for a fact that hizuran people are beautiful. I couldn’t deny him having fun over there. So, we decided to stay as friends.”

Mikasa smiled, and Jean blushed. “You’re a good friend.”

“I’m not,” Jean replied, leaning back against his seat as well. “I had no idea about you and Eren. You’re our friend since high school, and I had no idea you’d gotten your heart broken too this year. So, I’m not that good of a friend.”

Mikasa rested her hand at her sides, her pinky almost touching his, leaning back to catch sight of the night sky. “You’re in no obligation to carry anyone’s pain, Jean, let alone mine.”

“What do you mean? You’re my friend.”

“I know. We are friends,” Mikasa said quickly, as if noticing the hint of pain her previous words had caused in him. “What I mean is…I knew it was going to happen. I saw the change in Eren. I knew he wouldn’t want to stay put. He was more in love with the idea of freedom than with me. I should’ve ended it a long while ago. So, no need to carry pain that was dragged on for no purpose.”

“And you didn’t want to go with him?”

Mikasa thought about it for a moment. He could hear Reiner and that Pieck girl singing at the top of their lungs inside, as well as Connie’s laughter. And yet, all his mind was set on was her, how her eyes focused on his as she spoke every word, how a bit of lipstick had smudged on the edges of her mouth due to their drinking. Jean had always been aware of Mikasa’s beauty, but he hadn’t been truly enthralled by it in a very long time.

“I don’t think I would’ve gone,” she said at last. “I love the island. I love my home. I want to have a peaceful life here, grow old here. I like seeing new places, but I don’t want to spend my life wandering. He did.”

Jean nodded, understanding her fully. All he’d ever dreamed of was a nice house in the inner districts, alongside the wife -or husband- of his choosing.

“Besides,” Mikasa said with a quiet laugh. “He never asked me to come.”

“What a fucking idiot.”

Mikasa blinked in surprise. “I’m not mad at him, Jean. You don’t need to be in my behalf.”

“I’m not mad on your behalf,” Jean said, shaking his head, a deep crease forming between his eyebrows, feeling all of that frustration he’d had towards Eren in high school come back in full. “What kind of idiot do you have to be to break the heart of someone like you?”

“Someone like me?”

“You’re fucking amazing!” Jean said, shocked by the confusion in her face. “Mikasa, you’re gorgeous, smart, strong. You can lift a whole hundred pounds without breaking a sweat…who would want to break your heart?”

Another chuckle escaped her throat, and she gave him a look that he could only describe a sweet. “Thank you,” she said, tilting her head to the side. “My heart was breaking the whole last year we were together, though. I guess in a way, him leaving helped me heal.”

“I hope he falls into a pit.” Jean muttered, then shook his head. “No, I hope I fall into a pit, for not noticing you were hurting before.”

“You had your thing with Marco moving away,” Mikasa replied. “If anything, I was the jerk for not helping you like Connie and Sasha did. I was too focused on trying to force Eren to be happy with me.”

“Still, I should’ve helped.”

“You’re helping now,” Mikasa replied, lifting her pierced eyebrow. “You’re letting me be your roommate, aren’t you?”

Jean took a deep gulp of his beer before speaking. “So, you are taking up on my offer?”

“Yes,” Mikasa said, setting her eyes on the section of town in which he lived in. “If you take up on my offer.”

“Which is?”

“The agency wants a couple male models,” she said, elbowing him playfully. “I heard from Sasha how you’re killing yourself at that part time. This money won’t be great, I do warn you, but it will be better, and you’ll have more time to study.”

The color traveled to his cheeks yet again. “I-I’m not a model, Mikasa.”

“No need to be modest, Kirstein,” she said, scrutinizing him again, her gaze sensing a shock of electricity across him. “I saw you on that beach trip we did. You’ve got nothing to envy from the models.”

They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, and Jean’s mind became a storm. Had she just told him she found him attractive? No, it couldn’t be. She’d just said he had nothing to envy from male models. But that was just a creative way to call someone hot, wasn’t it? She had no reasons to call him hot, however.

“Jean, I think—”

“Niccolo!” Sasha’s shouted drunkenly, startling the two in their seats. It wasn’t until they turned in her direction that Jean realized how close their faces had been to each other.

“Alright, alright. Do it again.” Niccolo laughed, sounding quite drunk himself. Sasha grabbed her shirt and tightened it around her waist, showing him her bloated stomach.

Niccolo giggled. “It’s adorable! It does look like you’re pregnant,” he said between snorts. “How many garlic buns did you eat back there?”

“Why are you calling your baby a garlic knot, Niccolo?!” Sasha half-laughed, half cried, only causing Niccolo to laugh harder. They were soon on the floor, struggling to catch their breath because of their laughter, and Jean was grateful for the protective mesh at the edge of the balcony.

“They’re drunk.”

“They’re high.” Mikasa said, casting a glance inside. “Ymir and Historia are here.”

“No wonder they’re high.” Jean chuckled. Historia wore a beautiful pink dress, looking as happy as ever with Ymir’s hands around her waist. Ymir, as always, wore a dark suit. As always, she was more focused on kissing Historia’s neck than the conversation around her. They’d been inseparable since their wedding, and from the sparkling necklace around Historia’s neck, Jean supposed their business was growing well.

Mikasa grabbed his sleeve. “Do you want to go get some?”

“You smoke that stuff?” Jean asked, wondering when he’d smoked anything last.

“Not really.” Mikasa admitted, looking at Sasha laughing on the floor while placing a thousand drunken kisses on Niccolo’s forehead. “It looks like they’re having fun, though.”

“We could do it to celebrate,” Jean said, shrugging. “You know, each of just found a good roommate and we might not be as broke from now on.”

“You are sure about the roommate matter?” Mikasa asked, frowning. “You’ll have to take a few visits from my uncle.”

“I’ll cope.” Jean said, looking at Niccolo and Sasha. “Are you sure? What if Eren returns and gets mad?”

Mikasa rolled her eyes. “He can get as mad as he wants. I won’t care.” She said, and from her tone of voice , Jean knew she was done talking about Eren for the time being. She looked more annoyed at the inconveniences that Eren had caused her than heart broken. Perhaps, the exhaustion had forced her to get over a heartbreak quick, as well.

Jean offered her his hand. “Shall we, my lady?”

“You’re still an idiot,” Mikasa said, intertwining her arm with his. “Thank you, by the way.”

“No, thank you,” he said, using his other hand to take their bottles. He offered one to her and lifted his own. “Toast? For roommates?”

“For roommates.” Mikasa said. Their bottles clang together, their sound foretelling a change of wind for the two, perhaps.

______________________

Gabi walked along the bookstore holding onto Falco’s arm. She and her mother spent summers with her cousin Reiner in the island. And despite this being her fifth year visiting him and despite the luxuries of his apartment, she missed him terribly each time she left. So, she clung to him before and after her journeys, enjoying their time together as if it were a treasure.

“Want to get an ice cream afterwards?” He asked.

“The place by the zeppelin museum?” Falco nodded in response, and Gabi smiled widely. “Alright, then. But it’s my treat this time.”

“Let me buy the comic books this time, at least,” he said, pulling out a book with a few giants on the cover. “This looks good, doesn’t it?”

Gabi frowned at the sight of the naked giants. “I hate historical fiction.”

“It’s not like titans were real, Gabi,” Falco said, running through the pages. “This is mostly political-oriented. See? They even consulted a historian from Paradis to write it.”

“Hey, I know her!” Gabi said excitedly, looking at the picture of the main consultant from the work. “She’s the head of the anthropology museum at the island. She’s Reiner’s friend.”

“Is she?” Falco said, his eyes wide as he stared at the picture of Mikasa, who wore a fancy pantsuit and had her hair up in a ponytail. Unlike at the parties, her make up in this was formal, no bright pink lipstick, no dark eyeshadow. “She’s really pretty, isn’t she?”

“Falco!” Gabi said, then took a second look at the picture. “You’re right, she’s really pretty. Her husband is a lucky guy. He always says it himself.”

“Oh, she’s married?”

“Yeah, she married a friend of hers, I think. It was a late spring wedding, so I didn’t get to go. They’ve got a baby on the way and everything,” Gabi said, scrunching up her nose. “He’s friends with Reiner too, but I can’t recall the guy’s name.”

“Gabi, you see those people every summer,” Falco said, his kind face showing a slight hint of repeoach. “You should at least learn their names.”

“Reiner has way too many friends for me to remember,” Gabi replied, not wanting to admit that she did need to be a little more polite to them. “I do remember he had a bit of a horse face.”

“A horse face?” Falco said, horrified. “This woman here married a guy with a horse face?”

Gabi smiled amusedly. “She seemed quite smitten by him. Every time I go and they’re there, they’re always all lovey dovey. Kissing, hugging, they can’t keep their hands off each other,” she said, tilting her head to the side with a flirty smile. “Besides, it was just a nickname. The man is handsome, and taller than most guys, too.”

“Gabi, don’t talk so kindly about married men.” Falco said, closing the magazine with his cheeks flushed. Although his expression caused her own smile to grow wider.

“Are you jealous?” She teased, then placed a fleeting peck on his lips. “You’re way more handsome than horse face. And, you still have more years to grow. I’m sure that you’ll be taller than him by when we get married.”

“Gabi!” Falco said, flushing harder.

[solohux]

If you still takes prompts, l'd like to read about alpha!Chancellor Hux and omega!Supreme Leader Kylo expecting their first heirs (maybe Ares and Arild). Thank you.

The reception is going splendidly.

Chancellor Hux glides around the room in his white and red robes, finishing off the half-empty glass of champagne, the most expensive of its kind to be found on Coruscant. Politicians and dignitaries alike are present though only those allied with the First Order have been invited to this lavish soiree to celebrate and converse over their negotiations and trade deals. Hux swans around, his mind elsewhere; Ren.

“Chancellor Hux,” a familiar, soft-toned voice calls out from behind him, making him turn to see the alpha Prince Hilun and his beta female aide approaching. Both humans from the neighbouring planet of Luhrar, the two are dressed in fine, navy silk robes with the prince wearing a golden circlet upon his head.

“Prince Hilun,” Hux knows that he should technically bow before royalty but his own presence in the room is so grand that it’s as though his own body refuses. Instead, he nods courteously. “How pleasant to see you again.”

“Yes,” the prince nods, seemingly unphased by Hux’s lack of regard. “I must admit that I am still abuzz with emotion from our afternoon of negotiations.”

“Indeed,” Hux smiles, knowing full-well that he and the First Order received the better end of the deal with Luhrar in regard to their planetary resources; outsmarting another alpha never ceases to make Hux feel like king of the galaxy. “Your planet and your people will flourish under the First Order’s rule, Your Highness.”

“You’re quite the negotiator, Chancellor. You were once a General before this endeavour, hm? A skilled one too, so I’ve heard. How does one go from commanding armies to droll meetings with politicians?”

“I go where the First Order needs me,” Hux says, wishing he could tell the prince to mind his business. “In this case, Supreme Leader Ren took charge of the more physical side of the role. He admired my skills as a mediator, a diplomat, so I took up position as chancellor. The two of us work well together in this…arrangement.”

“One leader in two bodies.”

Hux smiles, taking a sip of his champagne, “I suppose so.”

“I am surprised to see that the Supreme Leader is not here tonight,” the prince says, surveying the room. “He seemed so fiery in today’s meeting.”

“Ren is indisposed this evening,” Hux says. “He sends his apologies. As you can imagine, he’s a very busy man.”

“Of course, Chancellor,” the man says. “What great power he has. Is it true that he is Vader’s heir?”

Hux wishes he could roll his eyes, knowing how much Kylo would love to be a part of this conversation now, “Yes. That is true.”

“Exquisite,” Prince Hilun exclaims. “My grandfather negotiated trade deals with Vader’s associates. How fitting.”

“Quite.”

“And is it true,” the prince leans in, lowering his tone of voice to a whisper. “That Ren is expecting heirs of his own?”

Hux has little time for gossip but news of Kylo’s pregnancy had broken in the tabloids months ago when he became unable to hide the bump that carries twins.

“Also true, Your Highness,” Hux finishes the rest of his drink.

“Astounding. I would never have guessed that such a hulking form of a creature is an omega. What of his mate? No one seems to know who they are.”

“His mate,” Hux parrots, reaming stoic faced, “Is, no doubt, proud to have bred such a powerful omega. It is the Supreme Leader’s choice to keep his mate a secret. For what reason? I know not, only that he is the sharpest and most protective alpha across the galaxy. If you’ll excuse me, Prince Hilun.”

“Of course, Chancellor. Goodnight,” the prince bows, smiling a genuine smile. Hux tries to reciprocate but smirks instead, pleased with how he’s conducted himself in front of the alpha prince this evening.

As expected, the Chancellor’s transport is waiting for him on his private landing pad outside of the senate building, his droid pilot already programmed with their destination; to a lavish, penthouse suite on the other side of the capital. The cool air of Coruscant’s night brushes through Hux’s hair as he sits in the rear of the extravagant speeder, flying across the traffic-lined sky with only his mate on his mind.

The transport heads towards one of the tallest buildings on this side of the capital and settles elegantly on the balcony’s landing pad where the droid announces their arrival but Hux is already jumping out and dashing inside of the luxurious apartment to find his beloved mate.

At this time of the night, Kylo should be in bed but he isn’t. Instead, he’s made a makeshift nest on the couch made from duvets, pillows and a couple of Hux’s capes that are draped over the sleepy omega like a blanket. He’s reading an old book, engrossed in its paper pages when Hux enters.

“Ren,” Hux sighs, unfastening the top clip of his tunic to put his claim mark on show. “You should be in bed.”

Kylo puts his book down and shifts, sitting up properly so he can reach out his arms and beckon his alpha into his hold.

“I didn’t want to go to bed without you,” he says, stealing kisses from Hux as soon as they’re close enough.

Hux pouts, feeling sensations of worry and trepidation dripping through their bond as they kiss. Beneath the capes and blankets, Hux’s hand finds the soft curve of Kylo’s eight month pregnant belly, rubbing over the stretched skin to feel their pups kicking beneath.

“How are they?” Hux asks, pulling away from the kiss and settling himself on the couch beside his omega, resting their heads against each other as Hux tries to rearrange the fallen blankets over his pregnant mate.

“Restless,” Kylo replies. “The Force sensitive one is stressed.”

“Ares,” Hux says, unsurprised when Kylo gasps and jolts at the force of a baby’s kick at the mention of his name. “He’s so strong already. And Arild?”

“Ari is…unreadable. He hasn’t got any coherent thoughts, not like his brother. His powers aren’t growing. He’s practically a null, Hux.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Hux raises an eyebrow, his tone playful.

“Nothing, of course,” Kylo replies, pulling away from Hux to put both of his hands on his belly, looking down at his bump. “But I hate that I can’t read one as well as the other. They’re both my pups and they’re already so different.”

“We’re different,” Hux says, brushing some of Kylo’s long dark hair from his eyes. “And we’re fine.”

“I know.”

“Ren,” Hux tuts softly. “My one. Please don’t worry.”

“I can’t help it. I’m supposed to protect them, and you.”

“I can protect myself, darling,” Hux scoffs, giving a flick of his hand and allowing a concealed dagger to slip from his sleeve.

Kylo rolls his eyes, “That’s not what I mean. When the twins are born, the galaxy will surely want to know who their sire is. There aren’t many gingers in the First Order—”

“They might not be ginger.”

“Still. They’ll look like you. I’m the Supreme Leader. Our enemies will target them, you.”

“No one will get close to us, Kylo,” Hux hushes, taking Kylo’s cheeks into his palms to focus him, kissing him softly on the end of his nose. “I won’t allow anything to happen to our family. I swear it. I swore it in our wedding vows and I’m swearing it to you now. Our boys will be safe.”

Kylo doesn’t reply but he smiles, reassuring Hux that he believes him. The omega nestles his head against Hux’s shoulder and dozes, one hand resting on his belly. Hux sighs, kissing his head; no being would succeed if they were to challenge the Supreme Leader for his position or his power but no one would live another moment in this galaxy if they were to hurt the omega’s family. As the alpha, Hux knows that his instincts to protect his family are strong but after a lifetime of feeling alone, no one’s protective instincts are stronger than Kylo’s.

[karlyfr13s]

Helping Destiny Along

A fluffy CS one-shot for the lovely @teamhook

Thank you @veryverynotgoodwrites for being one heck of a beta, and @the-darkdragonfly for your brainstorming powers!

Summary: Henry Mills has a theory: for each Captain Hook, there must be an Emma Swan. Well, he found Princess Emma Nolan at long last and is determined to bring her together with Killian Jones now that he's back in the Wishverse version of the Enchanted Forest.

Read it on AO3

At nineteen, Princess Emma Nolan believed in True Love. After all, her parents had found each other, and everyone knew theirs was a legendary love worthy of poetry and song. She watched for a prince from the high windows of her tower bedroom, waiting for someone tall, dark, and handsome to sweep her off her feet. He would be bold, romantic, dashing, and kind-hearted—she just knew it.

At twenty-two, she concluded that such a love was rare and that her parents may be the only two people with a Capital-T, Capital-L True Love, so she started looking for the more run-of-the-mill variety. Instead of waiting for someone to ride up to the castle gate and court her, she took a more active approach and sought her love by traveling and meeting new people. When that didn’t work either, Princess Emma tried for mutual attraction, which was fun at twenty-four, but grew stale by twenty-five. So she resigned herself to loving her kingdom and her people.

At twenty-eight, a man knocked on the door and utterly transformed her life. To be clear, she did not love that particular man. Henry came from a faraway land and told her fantastic tales that seemed beyond the reach of even her magic, and while she did not love him, he told her somewhere out there in a world beyond her grasp there was an Emma Swan who was his mother, and who loved him ferociously. For days, she and her parents welcomed Henry to stay in their home and share meals at their table, and for days he regaled them with stories of his world and of other versions of each member of the Nolan family. They were spellbound by his narratives. He was a gifted storyteller, and as if he’d known this was too fantastic to be believed, he came with something called photographs that showed a still window into his world. She saw a version of her mother, Queen Snow, but much younger and with close-cropped dark hair instead of the silvery tresses she was accustomed to. Her father was another surprise--he looked barely older than Emma herself, sandy hair where now there was gray, and while she knew her father was still a strong and capable swordsman, this version of King David seemed able to challenge even the mightiest ogre.

Princess Emma Nolan even saw herself, but not herself. They looked identical, she and Henry’s mother, and while her style was different from this unknown twin’s, she couldn’t help but notice some similarities. Emma Swan was often pictured in a short red leather coat, while Princess Emma Nolan’s favorite doublet was a rich blue leather. When she commented, Henry told her they both wore them like armor, gesturing to the bruise on his shoulder from their earlier sparring session in the yard. Emma Swan liked to pull her hair back, wearing it high on her head much like Princess Emma Nolan when she wasn’t expected at court or in her regal finest. Henry even had a picture of his mother with a sword--is she trained as well? She’d asked, and Henry grinned at the question, answering with another tale of his mother besting a pirate in single combat!

“I’m pretty sure that fight was rigged though,” he admitted as they walked the castle gardens one afternoon. “And that’s part of why I’m here.” He stopped and faced her, saying he hoped she could believe one more outlandish story before he had to return to his world.

“You seem to come well-armed with evidence, Henry. I don’t see why I should doubt you at this point.”

“My mother, Emma Swan, is an incredible woman. It took her a long time, but she found her True Love, and I think you can find yours. When I learned there was a version of her--of you--here, I had to find out if you were with him too, and when you weren’t…” Henry trailed off, frowning at the ground. He was quiet for a long while, and Emma ran through his words over and over. Henry thought he knew who her True Love was? How? How could he know that his mother and whoever she was with were one another’s True Love?

“I know he’s here now--I’ve met him before, and back in my world--”

“What? Then how can he be my True Love if he’s from your world?” None of this was making sense, and for the first time she doubted Henry. It seemed he could see the uncertainty within her, and he steered them to a bench to sit and talk as he clarified this man was not from his world, but had been brought there by a curse. The same curse that separated Henry from his own family.

“I know you understand curses and magic,” he began and she nodded at his words. “So when I tell you he was swept up in a curse and brought back in time to my world, that should make sense, right?” She nodded again, wondering who could have cursed two men from different worlds at the same time. Someone powerful and dangerous. Henry sighed and continued. “His name is Killian Jones, and he’s the best man I know. He’s my father in every sense of the word, and while there’s a version of him who is my mother’s True Love, I know there is one who is also yours. He has to be.”

Henry told her a lengthy story about a witch who ensnared a group of people from this kingdom, trapping them in a place called Hyperion Heights. He spoke of a coven leader who cursed Killian Jones so he could never be in contact with his daughter—a child she had abandoned him with after tricking him into spending a night with her. “But you see, Emma, you can break that curse. Your love--yours and Killian’s will break that curse. You will have each other and Alice--hell, and Robin! I haven’t even told you about Robin,” he was lost in thought again after that. Emma waited and tried to make sense of all she had learned.

Is it possible? In some way, his tale made sense. If what he said about the curse was true, it would explain The Gap. Emma had never mentioned The Gap to Henry, though he may have learnt of it through other means. It was rarely spoken of, but everyone in the Enchanted Forest shared one simple truth: there was a block of time no one could account for. Whenever Emma or her parents tried to focus on that space, thinking back to her twenty-sixth birthday, there was a strange void where there should be at least some memory of the year. She could remember the celebratory ball and the night of her birthday, but every time she tried to focus on what came next it only earned her a persistent headache.

“Please don’t hate me, Emma,” Henry put a hand on her shoulder, bringing her back to the present. “I told him to meet me here three days after I arrived. That’s tonight. He’ll be here, and he knows what I believe about you two because he also knows my mother and her Killian. He’s, uh...not entirely convinced. He’s been through a lot, but…” He shrugged and gave her a lopsided smile.

“It’s his story to tell, so I won’t go into detail, just...go easy on the guy. He might be a little gun shy—uh, guarded,” he quickly clarified when he saw her blink in confusion. “I don’t think he’s seen anyone since that witch who duped him, led the coven, and tried to destroy Hyperion Heights. Think that might do a number on a guy.” He looked so sincere, so much like he did when telling all his other tales that Emma chose to believe. Henry hadn’t lied to her before, so what would the motivation be to do so now?

She chewed at her lip, fretting over what to do and how to greet someone who might be a part of her very soul--someone who had been through tricks and curses, and had suffered real loss. She couldn’t simply turn him out in the night, that was unthinkable, but what do you say to the other half of your heart? If that is what he is. This had to have been simpler for her mother. At least she’d simply caught her father in a net after robbing him. That seemed easier than calmly welcoming fate to dinner and introducing the man to your parents on day one.

“Well,” she got up and dusted off her breeches, “I suppose we’d best let my parents know we’re expecting another guest. And I may need to change as well. I think I’d rather not smell worse than the stables when I meet him.” Emma faltered on the last word, not knowing how to address Killian Jones. Henry smiled and followed her lead.

-----

One thorough and contemplative bath later, Emma emerged in a blush pink gown that shimmered softly in the waning sunlight. It had taken her three other dresses before she settled on this one. It was simpler than what she wore to galas and State events: tea length and embroidered in sheer flowers. She knew it would glow softly under the lights of the candles and torches at dinner, and Princess Emma Nolan found herself hoping he would like it.

When he arrived, it was Henry who greeted Killian Jones first, clasping the man’s hand and giving Emma a moment to simply observe. His smile was warm, a bright white flash of teeth and Emma noticed the slight creases at his eyes as well. An authentic smile, she noted, enjoying the genuine moment between the two men. He was dashing there was no other word for it--dressed in black and rich crimson, rings and charms gleaming in the firelight, their glimmer echoed in the silver strands that threaded here and there through his otherwise coal-black hair. Where his left hand ought to be, Emma found instead a polished silver hook and she remembered whispered gossip of a pirate captain referred to only by the moniker Hook. Once a fearsome leader of a brutal band of thieves, he had all but vanished into lore years ago. She realized too late that she’d been staring, and cleared her throat softly before curtseying to cover the awkwardness. Henry took the moment to introduce them, “Captain Killian Jones, may I present Emma Nolan, Princess of Misthaven.”

She offered her hand and Killian took it up, placing a chaste kiss across her knuckles. His eyes met hers, their brilliant lapis blue making her breath catch in her throat. Regardless of the formality of their meeting and the fact Henry, her parents, and several serving staff looked on, she felt the pull immediately. From the moment her hand was in his, it felt right. She wanted to keep hold of him more than she’d wanted anything in her life, wanted to memorize the rough calluses formed by his years at sea, but she forced herself to maintain propriety and brought her hand back to her side. Emma reminded herself they did not know one another, to not get swept up in Henry’s notions without evaluating the truth of the situation. Though she saw in his gaze a strange flicker of recognition, a brief knitting of his brow that asked a silent question she could not interpret, she let the moment pass and returned to her expected duties.

Emma introduced him to her parents, watching her father’s scrutinizing gaze contrast with her mother’s brilliant smile. No doubt her father was riddling out Henry’s purpose in inviting this man to dinner, though she couldn’t fathom him guessing the truth. All through dinner, Emma could barely take her eyes off Killian. He shared a few stories from his days at sea, talking of far-off kingdoms and uninhabited islands, and Emma felt a longing take hold of her as he spun a tale of a snow-covered northern kingdom where they carved elaborate ice sculptures, held firelight festivals, and celebrated the beauty of winter rather than fearing its chill. His voice was low, its velvet warmth wrapping around her and pulling her from all sense of time. The evening passed quickly, and long before she was ready, Emma’s parents stood to signal the end of the affair.

“It’s far too late for you to make a return journey, Captain Jones,” Queen Snow spoke. “We welcome you to stay as a guest in our home. We will have a room made up for you at once and hope you will accompany us for breakfast in the morning.” At his thanks, the Queen turned to Emma, “Oh, and Emma, darling?”

“Yes, Mother?”

Emma approached and her mother drew her in for a close hug, whispering softly, “See to it that Captain Jones can find his way. Most of the staff have already retired and I’d hate for him to get lost in search of rest.” With that, the Queen turned and gently tugged her husband toward their own chambers, leaving Emma to escort their two guests.

She could hear her father grumbling about leaving Emma unchaperoned, but Snow’s voice echoed back, “David, she’s twenty-eight, not sixteen, she’ll be fine. Our daughter is perfectly capable--” Their voices were lost as they rounded a corner, and Emma suppressed a smile. It didn’t matter that she was a full grown woman, her father would always be protective of her.

When she turned around, Emma realized Henry had vanished. Someone seems to think himself a matchmaker, she mused and as her eyes fell upon the man who waited by the fireplace she could understand why Henry had made himself scarce. Deep breath, Emma. He’s simply a man like any other. If she tried very hard, she just might convince herself of that. Well, unless she stopped to listen to the way her heart raced when the corner of his mouth ticked up in a smile.

“Did you want--that is,” she faltered and tripped over her tongue, coming to stand near him where he leaned against the back of a chair by the hearth. “I don’t know how long a trip you made today, and so…” Why was this so hard?

“I’m quite alright, Princess. Would it be terribly inappropriate of me to ask you to keep me company and perhaps share a drink?” She smiled in response, slipping a large book from a shelf over the mantle after pointing out where her father kept a set of glasses on a shelf nearby.

“He thinks I don’t know about this,” she opened the volume to reveal a bottle. “Rum he had imported from the south--is that acceptable, Captain?”

“Aye, that will do nicely. Bit of a pirate in you isn’t there, Princess? Pinching a man’s rum while he’s fast asleep.” They shared a conspiratorial grin as she poured and each took up a chair near the fire. “To what shall we toast, love?”

She hummed in thought, considering the man before her. The pull was still there like some invisible thread entwining the two of them and she hoped it wasn’t only she who felt it. “To new beginnings,” she offered, holding her glass aloft. He echoed the sentiment and crystal clinked as their eyes met over the rims of their glasses before both looked away shyly and took a sip. The warmth and spice slid down her throat, settling in her stomach and making her shiver. They were quiet for a time, simply sharing the space while they glanced at one another, eyes never quite meeting, nor acknowledging they were both performing the same dance.

“I take it dear Henry shared his theory with you?” Killian broke the silence, addressing the weight that had settled in the room. She confirmed he had shared that along with several other stories, asking if it were true he’d been swept away to a land without magic. “Aye, and for some time I had no memory of myself or this place. When the truth finally came back to me it was...difficult to deal with. Did he...mention Alice?” He swirled the rum in his glass, eyes flicking up to meet hers.

“Yes, he also mentioned a curse is keeping you apart,” she reached across the small distance that separated them, hand resting on the brace that held his hook. “Killian—if I may call you Killian,” she felt herself flush at the informality and he nodded encouragingly. She said it once more, feeling the musical quality of it as she continued. “What kind of monster keeps a father from his daughter like that?”

His shoulders sagged as he said the story of Gothel was one for another day, that it was a story filled with dark shadows he dare not conjure without the sunlight to dispel them. “I only mention Alice because...well, given what Henry has told both of us I have been...” his brow furrowed as he searched for a word, and she leaned forward, absently running her hand over his sleeve and feeling where the firm leather of his brace ended and the warmth of his arm began. His gaze dropped to where her hand rested and she looked up, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. “Concerned,” he finished at last. “That is, I’d thought perhaps because I have a child with someone else, and because I am obviously older than you are, that you might feel...or not feel a certain…not that I think Henry is necessarily right…”

His words tapered off and she became very aware they were both leaning in now, the distance between them nearly closed. She could see the silver in his hair glinting in the firelight, the strands at his temples more greyed than the rest. Greedily, she took in all she could in this moment. The heat that radiated from where her hand still rested atop his arm, the scents of leather and petrichor that clung to him were so close she could nearly roll them on her tongue. When she searched his eyes she saw a lingering hurt, but behind that was what appeared to be cautious hope. Setting her glass aside, Emma brought her hand up, allowing herself to do what she’d been wanting to all evening and running her fingers through his hair. He held her gaze, eyes wide and uncertain and she realized his past hurts ran deep enough that he wouldn’t act on that hopeful glint she’d seen moments ago. She would have to be brave for both of them.

With a whisper of his name she closed what little distance remained between them. She’d intended a light brush of her lips, had simply wanted to know what may lie between them, but the moment their lips met Emma knew she would never be satisfied with so little. She poured herself into the moment, moving to grip the front of his shirt and pull him tightly to her. He followed her lead, their kiss deepening as he tilted his head, the two of them moving as though they had done this a hundred times before. She heard her pulse pounding away in her head, felt his breath ghosting over her lips as they breathed into one another for a moment before he captured her lips again. Something shifted then, like the single beat of a massive heart, a shockwave rippled outward, though neither could be bothered to break this moment. Finally, the two pulled back, eyes searching one another.

“Was that?” Emma asked, not knowing how to complete the thought. Her parents had told her their story several times: the kiss that broke the curse. The kiss that radiated out from them in a burst of force and light. The kiss that sounded an awful lot like what she had just shared with Captain Killian Jones.

Killian rested his forehead against hers, breathing out slowly before replying in a soft voice, “Aye love, I think it may have been.” She asked how that was possible, neither naming it yet and both quaffing their rum before leaning back in their chairs. “Years ago,” he began, “I ran into a fortune teller on the docks. He told me I would find my happiness though it was presently locked away in a tall tower. So, when the time came and I found myself facing a witch and finding a woman locked away in a tower I had thought my moment had come. Instead, I found Gothel and her tricks. I brought a daughter into this world only to have her freedom snatched away by the cold-hearted woman who bore her.”

Emma watched him closely, he seemed far away and lost in another time. “Tonight,” he continued after several beats, “when I saw the westward tower of this castle I had to stifle my hope that perhaps after so long--what is that tower to you?” He leaned toward her suddenly, his sapphire eyes searching hers as though he could read the truth within them.

“My bedroom,” she admitted. “My parents thought it would keep me safe. With only one known entrance and exit, it was easy to post guards and easy to know who sought my attention. Of course, there is another exit, but no one other than me knows of it. I devised it when I was sixteen and desperately wanted a way out without the entourage of guards.”

He fell silent, his forehead creased in thought as he tapped a finger against the bow of his lips. The mantle clock’s rhythmic ticking was nearly deafening as Emma waited through each drawn out second. Mesmerized by the path he now traced along his bottom lip, her mind drifted back to the soft press of his mouth against hers and she wished fervently to undo whatever had him so lost in his own thoughts. Come back to me, Killian, she sighed aloud and he snapped to attention. “My apologies, love. I believe I may be in need of rest.” His explanation rang hollow and she leveled a gaze at him, knowing this wasn’t the full truth.

“I swear to you, Princess, I will make my theories known. I do not intend to hide anything from you.” He stood then, stretching languidly before offering his arm and waiting for her to rise. She acquiesced if only for the chance to feel the warmth of him once more before she retired for the night. She tried to stifle her yawn behind her hand and heard him chuckle low in response. “It seems I may not be the only one in need of sleep. Lead the way, love.”

She led him to one of the guest rooms not far from Henry’s. As she bid him goodnight, Killian leaned down to brush a featherlight kiss across her lips, wishing her sweet dreams. Emma felt as though she floated on air the whole way up to her room, content to leave him to his musings tonight and trusting he would speak his mind soon enough.

----- The morning saw Emma waking earlier than usual, calling a chipper “Good morning” to her sleep-rumpled lady’s maid before dismissing her and attending to her own routine. Still abed at this hour? It seems dear Tink has been keeping late hours herself. She let herself ponder whose affections might be persuading the spunky blonde to be less than punctual, smiling at her reflection as she brushed out her golden tresses.

Once ready, Emma hummed to herself, making her way down the innumerable stairs in search of breakfast, her parents, and Killian--the thought made her grin. His sudden shift into contemplativeness notwithstanding, he had been the perfect gentleman last night. Thoughtful in their discussion at dinner, genuine and curious without overstepping, and then there was the kiss. She flushed, pausing before the dining room doors to gather her thoughts and put on what she hoped was a soft smile rather than the doe-eyed look she’d undoubtedly been wearing since she woke.

Her parents, Henry, and Killian were already seated when she entered--the latter both rising and inclining their heads in deference. “Good morning, Princess,” they intoned in unison. She laughed, insisting they sit and continue the conversation she had interrupted, taking her place at her father’s right hand and quietly thanking the servingman who filled her cup with coffee and cream.

“Killian, you were asking about the tower, yes?” Queen Snow offered an encouraging half-smile before sipping demurely at her tea. At this, Emma heard her father mutter under his breath about the Captain inquiring about his daughter’s bedroom.

“Yes. You see, Your Majesty, I can’t help but notice it is nearly identical--from the outside,” he clarified at her father’s rapidly reddening face, “to one I encountered years ago. That particular structure was the residence of a rather powerful witch.”

“Gothel,” her father spat, and all eyes shifted to him. Emma saw Killian’s jaw clench at the name and he gave a single, curt nod in affirmation.

With her mother’s hand resting on his shoulder, her father began the story she’d heard many times over the course of her life. The story of how Gothel heard the regents were expecting and deduced there would be a child born of the most powerful magic in all realms: True Love. That she knew as well that child would have light magic, and that even if it never manifested there would be power in their blood. It was the story of why Emma’s parent’s fortified their home so heavily once word of Gothel’s covetous wish reached them, and why they insisted she train with sword and bow.

“It’s why my little girl was taught to ride like a soldier and not a courtier. Hell, it’s why I gave into her frankly dangerous wishes and allowed her to learn to sail--in case she needed to escape quickly.”

“Does it help to know Gothel can’t harm anyone anymore?” Henry offered helpfully, trying to lighten the weight that had settled on the group. There was general agreement at the table that, yes, it did help. Quite a lot, in fact, and it felt as though the sun broke out from beneath the clouds as they returned to their breakfast.

“Is that what you were concerned about, Captain?” Emma caught herself in time and used his title, not yet ready to have that discussion with her parents.

“The thought had crossed my mind, Princess, but it seems your own construction must have inspired hers for some reason.” He dismissed the thought, though she could practically hear the gears of his mind grinding away. The conversation returned to banal pleasantries about the weather and what game was in season. Her father consulted Killian on the conditions at sea, and in general the rest of the meal was like any other. Like any other meal you share with your family, a new friend, and the man you just shared True Love’s Kiss with less than eight hours after meeting him. Perfectly normal. Emma put on her court smile and commented politely, waiting for her moment to pounce.

“Join me for a walk in the gardens, Captain?” The moment arrived after a lengthy debate about the benefits of traveling by horse in comparison to ship. Thank the gods for the momentary lull as her father’s cup was refilled yet again - Emma didn’t think there was enough coffee in the whole of Misthaven to keep her alert on this topic.

“Of course, Princess.” He smiled bashfully, running his hand through his hair and standing as she rose. “May I?” He offered his arm and she accepted, the two making a long overdue exit.

The grass was still damp as they walked the grounds, the morning sun hinting at a warm day to come despite the slight chill that had Emma leaning in close, basking in the warm line of contact with Killian. “So, what was it you held back up there?” She broke the silence and watched the arch of his brow as he glanced at her. “I’ve always known when people are dishonest, or not fully honest in this case,” she explained. “It’s a feeling, sort of like a rock settling into my stomach. I don’t know if it’s part of my magic or something else,” she shrugged at this and watched his expression shift from curiosity to contemplation. No doubt he was thinking up a way to explain whatever was plaguing his mind.

He remained in that state as they passed her mother’s bed of crimson roses and all the way through the lilies that always made her nose twitch, their heady scent overpowering. Spotting the bench she and Henry had sat on—was that only yesterday?—she took the lead, turning to face him as they sat.

“There are some strange coincidences,” he began. Their knees brushed and she leaned into the contact, hoping her touch might ground him in the present. His past included darkness, and here in the bright morning sun amongst the flowers she hoped to keep those grim memories at bay.

“The tower is the first of them, and I’ve no idea which came first. Given Gothel’s numerous deceits, I’m not inclined to believe any of her tales nor any of Belfry’s—the woman who claimed to be the missing princess, Rapunzel,” he clarified when he saw her puzzled look. “Did you know the witch?”

She shook her head, “Only what my parents told me: that she was interested in my magic and had a reputation for taking what she desired by force.” He expressed clear agreement, and when his focus became distant Emma took hold of both hand and hook. “Whatever it is, that doesn’t change who we are to one another, Killian.”

That must have heartened him, for it earned her a gentle smile. “Aye, love, I suppose you’re right. You see, the other strangeness was Gothel’s impersonation. I’ve never given it much thought, but why should she play at being a princess? I’d no notion who the woman was, yet she changed her appearance, her voice, her name. Why?” He hypothesized then that either Gothel bribed the fortune-teller, planting the man in Killian’s path with a bogus story about happiness in a tower, or that she somehow knew Emma would be important and hedged her bets by occupying her own tower and putting herself in Killian’s path.

“You see, I’ve considered the strangeness of these overlaps and in part I wonder if one of the gifts she or a fellow witch of her coven acquired was prophecy. She seemed to know far more than anyone ought to, and perhaps thought to entrap me and use me to get to you.

“If she knew we were, uh,” he gulped, and flushed a charming shade of pink all the way to his ears. “Destined for one another, then it would be well within her character to exploit that. To make me think she could lead me to my happiness, then snatch you away for her own nefarious purposes. As well, I’m starting to suspect the unaccounted year the townsfolk allude to may well have been a longer span of time than any of you realize.”

It made sense in a way, and while they couldn’t be certain of Gothel’s intentions, Emma was definitely grateful the woman was gone and could do them no further harm. As far as The Gap was concerned, she supposed there was no real way of knowing how much time had passed, only that it seemed like a year. Had she slept as Aurora once had? Every answer seemed to lead to more questions, but Emma resolved herself to focusing on what mattered most first: reuniting Killian with his Alice.

“Despite her purposes, Killian, whatever they may have been,” she reached up and cupped his cheek. His eyes were blue as the sea and she let herself fall into their depths as she brought him back to the present. “Last night, Killian, True Love’s Kiss is potent magic and I think—I’m almost certain, actually—that we broke your curse. We can find Alice, and you can finally hold your daughter in your arms again.”

“We?” He grinned at her, nuzzling against her hand before turning to kiss her palm. “Then you’ll accompany me, love?”

“Of course! I know we’ve only just met, but I think it’s more than obvious how I feel about you given the fact we broke a witch’s curse with our first kiss.” They shared a laugh, shifting so she could rest her head against his shoulder as he draped his arm around her.

“She’s a bit different, my Alice,” he cautioned.

“And we aren’t?” she challenged. “Tonight at dinner, let me handle my parents. We’ll tell them what happened and make plans to seek out Alice. Henry said she’s with someone called Robin—does that name mean anything to you?”

“Aye, that’s Alice’s love. I know where to find them.”

“Then that’s our next course. Reuniting you with your daughter is the first step toward, well, I guess…” she paused, pulling back to meet his gaze again. “I guess toward becoming a family, right? I mean, my parents will have questions and all things considered, I guess we have other planning we’ll need to do in the future, but—“ he cut off her monologue with a kiss. It was sweet and slow, like he was trying to memorize the feel of her lips on his. His tongue flirted with her bottom lip and she twined her fingers in his hair.

Pulling back to meet her eyes, Killian smiled. “I love you, Princess Emma Nolan,” he whispered.

She felt warm all the way to her toes, grinning as she replied, “I love you, Captain Killian Jones.” The two shared a lingering kiss, the spell suddenly broken by a loud whoop of excitement.

“I told you both!” Henry hollered, emerging from his hiding place behind a large oak tree and performing some bizarre dance Emma had never seen. The three laughed, Henry congratulating them on their newly blossoming relationship while Emma and Killian thanked him for the unlooked-for but welcome help.

“What can I say except: you’re welcome.” His smile was bright at the sun and he slung an arm over both their shoulders, walking between them as the three returned to the house and, for Emma and Killian, toward the start of a new life together.

Tagging the usual suspects: @kmomof4, @teamhook, @veryverynotgood, @caught-in-the-filter, @hollyethecurious, @laschatzi, @donteattheappleshook, @lonelyspectator12, @the-darkdragonfly, @zaharadessert, @winterbaby89, @jrob64, @wefoundloveunderthelight, @ultraluckycatnd, @stahlop, @alexa-fangirl-forever, @superchocovian, @monosalvatore16, @snowbellewells, @batana54

[superheroesofbothuniverses]

An Enchanted Evening(Wintershock)

“I hear Pepper and Tony are throwing another Disney bash. You excited?”

Darcy looked up from her laptop as Clint stuck his head in her office to deliver the news. It never failed, if something interesting was happening, he’d be stopping by to discuss it. He was worse than her great aunts when it came to gossip, Darcy thought fondly.

“Yeah, but I’ll have to find a date. I don’t wanna be Giselle without a Robert, unless I can get Jane to go with me. She loves going as the evil queen.”

Clint looked confused.

“I thought you and Barnes were an item. I see you together all the time, looking all cozy.”

“Appearances can be deceiving, Clint,” Darcy sighed. “He doesn’t seem to want anything more than friendship right now. But he is pretty great at the whole friend thing.”

“If he did want more, would you go out with him?” Clint pressed, watching her searchingly.

“Totally,” Darcy admitted, knowing better than to lie to him. “But don’t you dare interfere and ruin this for me. I don’t want to push him away after how long it took me to get him to warm up to me.”

Bucky had been very skittish when he’d first arrived and Darcy tried the technique she’d used when befriending neighborhood feral cats: kept her distance while offering friendly greetings and looking as non-threatening as possible, left plentiful treats around, and cracked ridiculous jokes in his hearing in hopes of earning a smile. It had taken several months, but Darcy succeeded in Operation Befriend Bucky.

“Who are you and Laura going to go as?” Darcy inquired, trying to change the subject.

Clint grinned. “OutlawQueen, of course,” he supplied.

“Oooh. Going with the Once Upon A Time ship. It’s perfect,” Darcy admired. “Can’t wait to see it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a lot of work to do if I’m going to be able to afford the dress I’ve got my eye on.”

“Just so long as you show up,” Clint relented. “See ya, Doc.”

With a wink, Hawkeye made himself scarce and Darcy returned to her work, trying not to picture Bucky dressed as a Disney prince.

Bucky had just finished an intense workout and was trash talking Steve in a way only a best friend could get away with when his long suffering friend decided to turn the tables on him.

“So I hear you’re the only one who hasn’t RSVP’d for the big disney ball,” Steve commented. “Thought you would be going with Darcy.”

“How many times do I have to tell you we’re just friends?” Bucky sighed.

Steve gave him a look of utter disbelief and sighed.

“Still in denial. But you do know you can accompany her as a friend, right?”

“And have to hear you lot gossiping even more? No thanks,” Bucky muttered, even as he really wished he had the guts to ask Darcy. Despite what he’d told Steve, Bucky was very interested in the new astrophysicist in a definite more-than-friends way, but so far, he hadn’t seen any signs that she shared this interest, so he’d stayed quiet rather than ruin one of the best friendships he’d made in his post-Hydra life.

Steve just smiled knowingly at him.

“If you change your mind, Darcy is going as Giselle from Enchanted. Nat told me yesterday. They’re going shopping for dresses tomorrow.”

“Never heard of her,” Bucky muttered, splitting off from Steve to take the stairs to his floor. The next evening, a Blu-ray of Enchanted had appeared on his coffee table. Bucky turned up his nose, but Natasha’s commanding note had him sighing and watching the movie anyway.

Despite the typical Disney cheesiness, Bucky found himself enjoying himself and actually laughing a few times at the antics of the ridiculously over the top Prince Edward. Robert seemed a more realistic hero for once and he found himself sympathizing with the man. Bucky was pretty sure there wasn’t going to be a happily ever after for himself, either.

After the movie ended, he sat and thought for a while, then called Natasha.

Darcy bought her dress, shoes, and jewelry, happily spending way more than she normally would thanks to her long hours and careful saving up for the day. The wine colored fit-and flare dress looked amazing on her and the skirt swirled in a very satisfying manner when she turned around.

“You’re going to be turning heads tonight,” Natasha commented as they hauled their purchases home. “Especially a certain someone.”

She wiggled her eyebrows and Darcy sighed.

“Whatever you say. I have no comment,” she said rather stiffly.

Natasha laughed.

“You say that now,” she said.

In the end, Darcy went by herself to the ball, having chickened out about asking Bucky, which she was already kicking herself for. Oh, well. At least she looked fabulous in her dress that looked just like the one Amy Adams wore for the dance.

She perked up a bit when she got to the fancy ballroom Tony had rented and met the rest of the Avengers in full costume. Sure enough, Clint and Laura were Robin Hood and Regina and looked amazing. Tony and Pepper were Captain Hook and Emma Swan.

“Aren’t you a little grey to be Captain Hook?” Darcy teased him. “But that’s a nice costume.”

“Hook’s a lot older than he looks,” Tony replied, waving his fake hook hand around.

Natasha and Steve were Ariel and Eric, which was an unexpected choice, but Nat looked great in her slinky, iridescent turquoise dress and Steve was a fabulous prince. Sharon and Sam were Rapunzel and Flynn Rider and Wanda was Princess Elsa, complete with a gorgeous icy blue dress and fabulous blonde wig. Thor strode around dressed like Hercules and Darcy hung out with him for a few minutes, exchanging small talk.

“Are you also unaccompanied, Darcy?” Thor asked.

“Yeah,” she admitted. “But I’m hanging out with friends and feeling fabulous, so I’ll be alright,” she assured him.

She completely forgot what she’d planned on saying next because Bucky Barnes arrived and was looking so gorgeous, she found she couldn’t breathe.

Bucky, feeling stiff and awkward in his fancy costume, was keeping his eyes peeled for Darcy, even as he greeted Steve, Nat, and Sam, all of whom seemed very surprised, but pleased to see him.

“She’s over by Thor,” Nat whispered helpfully and Bucky looked where she indicated and felt his heart skip several beats and his mouth go dry.

Darcy was looking incredibly gorgeous in a dress like the one from the movie, which was a simple design, but very flattering on her. She’d left her dark hair down and had simple silvery earrings that sparkled in the light from the massive overhead chandeliers.

In this moment, Bucky knew he was a goner. These were NOT platonic friendly reactions he was experiencing right now. Not at all. She locked eyes with him and her own widened, and she full on smiled at him, which propelled him towards her, now oblivious to everyone else in the room.

Darcy swallowed nervously as Bucky approached, looking stunning in an embroidered dark blue jacket clearly meant to replicate Robert’s costume from Enchanted. He’d pulled his hair back into a small ponytail and it only added to the appeal.

“Hi,” she said softly, giving him a smile.

“Hi,” he answered back, looking at her in a way that made her feel downright giddy.

“Wow. Darcy, you look beautiful,” he told her, sincerity oozing from his voice.

“Why thank you,” she replied, trying to resist the urge to fan herself. “You’re looking pretty fabulous yourself. I’d say what a happy coincidence we picked the same movie, but I know our meddling friends better than that.”

Bucky grinned at her.

“Yep. And I have to tell them they were right later.”

“Right about what?” Darcy asked, knowing what the answer was but wanting to hear him say it.

“That I’ve got it bad for you, doll. I didn’t think you felt the same way, so I’ve been trying to ignore it, but I don’t think that’s possible anymore.”

The way he was looking at her was giving Darcy tingles all over and she took a step close to him.

“We’re a couple of fail boats then, because I’ve been feeling the same way, and was also convinced I was stuck in the friend zone,” Darcy admitted. “All our friends could see it, but we sure were oblivious.”

“We were. As a trained spy, I should be embarrassed, but I’m just happy,” Bucky told her. “Wanna dance?”

“Gladly, handsome,” she told him. “I heard you’re very talented in that department.”

Bucky flushed a bit, but shrugged.

“People exaggerate, but I did enjoy it back in the day. Let’s hope I’m not too rusty.”

If Bucky was rusty, Darcy certainly couldn’t tell because she was enjoying herself too much. She’d never danced with a guy who could lead as well as he could and it was glorious. Looking into his blue eyes, she couldn’t help but flush at the expression in them and wondered if she looked equally smitten.

Bucky was thinking about how perfectly they fit together and how her eyes were downright sparkling. That look she was giving him was downright dangerous and he never wanted this moment to end.

They ended up dancing through three more songs before Darcy pulled him away from the party.

“Tired already?” He asked teasingly.

“Bucky Barnes, you’d better kiss me right now, or so help me, Thor…..” she threatened playfully, pointing her finger at him. She didn’t have to say it twice. Bucky had been wanting to kiss her for a long time and just like with the dancing, proved to be very skilled.

“That good enough for Ya?” He finally asked.

“It’s a great start,” she whispered as she caught her breath.

Across the room, their friends looked on in amusement and approval.

“Nice work,” Steve told his girlfriend, who was looking very pleased with herself. “I thought you’d have to lock them in a closet or something.”

“Don’t think that wasn’t on the table if they kept being oblivious or Barnes refused to show up tonight,” Natasha admitted. “And I used to think YOU were the stubborn one.”

Steve laughed.

“You’re my favorite Disney prince, Bucky Barnes,” Darcy told him as they swayed together to a slow song.

“Just don’t expect me to sing or talk to chipmunks,” he muttered playfully. “Gotta draw the line somewhere.”

[lightbrite-rebel]

Choose 10 of your favorite fics you have written and post a few lines from each and tag 10 people

  1. Hammock – Reddie

 "I can't believe you proposed to me in a hammock with a toy ring you pulled out of a cereal box." Eddie laughs shaking his head. “I can't believe you said yes" Richie says kissing his cheek.

 2. Let’s Get One Thing Straight-Reddie

 Alright guys I just want to put a lid on all the rumors and gossip about the TMZ post. Like my shirt say I do want to get one thing straight......I'm not. Never have been. Thank you everyone for the support already. Oh! His name is Eddie and I am so hitting that gorgeous ass.

3. Surprise…. –Captain Swan

"Where are you going?" Snow asks as Emma opens the door without turning to it. "I’m going to go tell Killian he’s going to be a father!" Emma says turning towards the door to leave but coming face to face with the pirate himself "I'm going to be what now, Love?"

4. A Little Closer to You - Reddie

“Yea yea it did and it’s a really great film but listen my dick is out way too much in it to watch as a collective.”  Richie says scrolling through some of the other movies he did for them to watch

5. Now You Know Why Henry Didn’t Stay Here Last Night –Captain Swan

"HOOK!! What the hell are you doing here!?" David yells at him only slightly less threatening than he wanted to be waving the spatula at him.

6. Jell-O shot Jenga -Reddie

"Rich, w-wh-where are you glasses?" Bill asks stifling a laugh

"I wear glasses?! Holy shit that makes so much more sense."

7. Tonight the Winds of Change are Blowing Wild and Free _Reddie

“I cannot believe you just drug me out of that restaurant leaving Steve there with the bill and that Netflix producer.” Eddie tells him running a hand through Richie’s hair.

8. Ding Dong the Clown is Dead –Reddie

"You know he fucking has tattoos?"

"No fucking way!" she yells laughing and hitting him in the shoulder.

"Yea like six of them. It's pretty hot" Richie says looking at Bev with a smile on his face.

9. Right in Front of Your Eyes –Reddie

“I’ll go fucking wash it then.” He say heading inside to the kitchen.   Eddie stares at Myra with a scowl and then follows Richie inside.  A few seconds later Beverly breaks the silence standing up and saying

“Excuse me I’ll be right back” and head to the bathroom.  A minute later Myra follows her inside.

“ what a bitch”  Patty says sitting down and laying her head on Stan’s shoulder as Bill chokes on his drink and Mike and Ben let out a laugh

10. Baby Its You –Reddie

"Eds I'm sorry...” Richie is cut off by Eddie pulling him down into a kiss. Richie pulls back "fuck man you're married" Richie says looking at him sadly. "Not for long." Eddie tells him with a smile

 im not tagging if you want to do it do it!

[cieloclercs]

Issy and Evangeline had never known such luxury, as to be able to sleep on a wooden bench. Compared to the snowy foxholes they had been forced to huddle inside for all those weeks in Bastogne, a church pew was heaven. And the girls’ choir singing Plaisir D’amour were the angels.

“My mama used to play this song on the piano.” Evangeline - also aptly nicknamed ‘Angel’ by her comrades - recalled with a wistful smile. Geneveive Dubois had played many songs on their piano back home in Annecy, but Plaisir D’amour was always her favourite.

“Is there anything your mother can’t do? Last week you told me she painted a portrait for Coco Chanel!” Issy laughed, then shrank back into her seat as the nun observing the choir girls shot her a disapproving look.

“She did! Mama is a very good artist!” Angel defended with a small smile, the first one that had fully graced her lips in weeks.

“And apparently a musician, too.” Issy murmured quietly, careful not to catch the strict nun’s attention again. She always seemed to find a way of getting into trouble without intending to.

Angel glanced down at her friend with a fond smile, chuckling softly at the way she shied away from the nun’s gaze. For as long as she had known her, Issy always had a gift for getting on the wrong side of people she shouldn’t. Angel could practically hear Sobel screaming, “Private Castro, if you turn up late for PT one more time this week, your weekend pass will be revoked for the rest of your life!”

Issy never did get to join them for weekend drinks.

Angel suddenly found herself missing the good old days at Camp Toccoa. Looking back on it, the daily PT sessions where Sobel would scream at them for not making it over the wall, and their long and exhausting runs up Currahee felt like a lifetime ago. Angel would have given anything to go back, with the Black Swan and all. Even Sobel’s insults were better than Bastogne.

But nothing could be worse than Bastogne.

Angel just knew Lieutenant Dike was going to be their downfall. She knew it from the moment Issy and George nicknamed him, ‘Foxhole Norman’ in Holland. That man was not a soldier. He never should have been allowed to command Easy Company. And he had cost them so much.

It made her angry.

Lip had been their guardian angel in the dark days of Bastogne. He was the leader Easy Company needed more than anything, as strong as decisive as Winters, and one of the best people she knew. Angel often found herself praying, just praying to God that Lip would take over, give Easy a little hope. He would have got the whole company back on their feet, given them something to fight for again.

But instead they had Foxhole Norman.

When Dike was put in charge of the attack on Foy, Angel wanted to scream. They had already lost too many soldiers, good soldiers. Skinny had been evacuated, Smokey paralysed, Toye and Guarnere lost their legs in one of the last barrages in the Bois Jacques woods, Skip, Penkala... and two of the bravest women she ever knew. They were going to lose even more with Dike in charge.

Then came Easy Company’s saviour.

Ronald Speirs was - in all honesty - the last person Angel expected to come to their rescue. She had only met him a few times, but the rumours... the rumours were hard to ignore. Even for someone like her, and Angel had never been one to gossip.

Ronald Speirs saved them all.

He came charging through Foye like a man on a mission, not even glancing at the Germans on his either side. The attack was failing, thanks to Dike’s idiocy, and too many good men were losing their lives. Speirs turned it all around single handedly.

He was a hero.

Angel was glad he was their new CO. The whole company was glad. She had spoken to Lipton only two hours before, and even he had expressed his deep relief that Dike was gone, and they finally had a good leader in charge. Maybe things would start looking up for Easy.

“You wanna ask me don’t ya?”

Angel blinked rapidly, the image of that frost-bitten battlefield fading from before her eyes. She glanced to her side, and realised that Issy had fallen asleep; her head lolled to the side and there was a contented smile on her lips. She still looked like a girl, even after everything they had been through.

“Ask you what, sir?”

Angel turned away from Issy’s sleeping figure, her eyes instead focussing on the two men in her line of sight; Speirs and Lipton. The former was collecting his equipment, presumably to make his way back to Battalion, while the latter watched him with a curious gaze. Angel sat up a little straighter in her seat.

“You wanna know if they’re true or not, the stories about me.”

Lipton seemed amused, and maybe a little apprehensive. Speirs never really spoke to anyone, let alone spoke to them about his darkest secrets. And the rumours... were the darkest it could get.

“Did you ever notice with stories like that, everyone says they heard it from someone who was there, but when you ask that person, they say they heard it from someone who was there.”

Speirs spoke about the rumours like they didn’t bother him, with such nonchalance, and perhaps even a hint of smugness. Angel watched a slight smirk stretch across his face, and suddenly, she wasn’t so convinced by the rumours anymore.

“I bet if you went back 2,000 years, ya’d here a couple of centurions standin’ around, yakkin’ about how Tertius lopped off the heads of some Carthaginian prisoners.”

“Well, maybe they kept talkin’ about it ‘cause they never heard Tertius deny it.”

Angel got the feeling they weren’t really talking about Tertius.

“Hm, maybe that’s because Tertius knew there was some value to the men thinkin’ he was the meanest, toughest sonofabitch in the whole Roman Legion.”

Oh.

Now she understood.

Angel supposed a reputation like that was useful, especially in a war such as this. Fear was a natural thing to feel in the presence of someone like him. The rumours about Speirs were known by all of Easy Company, and possibly even the whole 506th. Everyone knew he was a cold-blooded, merciless, perhaps slightly insane killer. Or at least, they thought they did.

“Sir, these men aren’t really concerned about the stories. They’re just glad to have you as their CO. They’re happy to have a good leader again.”

Lipton’s eyes weren’t so guarded anymore, but curiosity still lingered within them. Perhaps he was just realising - a little like Angel - that there was a lot more to Ronald Speirs than meets the eye.

“Well from what I heard, they’ve always had one. I’ve been told there’s always been one man they could count on. Led ‘em in the Bois Jacques, held ‘em together when they had the crap shelled outta them in the woods. Every day he kept his spirits up, kept the men focussed, gave ‘em direction. All the things a good combat leader does.”

Angel couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face, because no truer words had ever been spoken. And the best thing about it, Lip was completely oblivious. He had no idea just how much Easy Company had relied on him through Bastogne. He was a pillar, a friend to lean on, to listen to their problems, to offer advice, all while being an exceptional leader. They owed their lives to him. Because without Lipton, Angel was sure she wouldn’t have been able to go on.

“You don’t have any idea who I’m talkin’ about do ya?”

“No, sir.”

“Hell, it was you, First Sergeant.”

As Lipton’s eyebrows raised in surprise, Angel saw - for the first time - a real, genuine smile on Speirs’ face. It made her grin widen even further. Lip was the glue that held them together. Even Speirs - who had run straight through German fire for Easy Company - was acknowledging it. It was all down to Lipton.

“Oh, and you’re not gonna be a first sergeant for much longer, First Sergeant.”

“Sir?”

“Winters put in for a Battlefield commission, and Sink approved on your behalf. You should get the official nod in a few days.”

Angel could have cried.

“Congratulations, Lieutenant.”

Lipton looked like he couldn’t quite believe it, even as Speirs sent him a brief smile before walking away. He was stood motionless for a few seconds, the shock immobilising his limbs.

Lip deserved this.

With Speirs as their new CO, and Lipton getting a Battlefield commission, it seemed that Easy’s darkest days might finally be behind them. Bastogne truly had been hell on Earth, the kind of thing that no one should ever have to endure. Just the shriek of a shell, or the faint whistle of a bullet was enough to strike terror into the hearts of every single soldier in the Bois Jacques woods. Angel had never known anything like it.

She wouldn’t allow herself to relax, even now Dike was gone. War was much too complicated to hope for its end at any point, let alone when it was so close to finally being won. It would only hurt more in the end. Hope could be a very dangerous thing.

But it could also be your salvation.

Band of Brothers Appreciation Week Day 5, One scene ~ Rachamps Church

introducing OFC no. 4, Evangeline Dubois!

introducing OFC no. 5, Isidra Castro!

[rune-writes]

Unbreakable Bond

Fandom: Persona 5

Ann Takamaki Week 2020 » Day 5: Birthday

Word Count: 4704

Rating: G

Summary: Six months after Shiho's accident, Ann still could not forget the sight of her friend’s crippled form on the ground. All she wanted was for Shiho to be healthy again so they could have fun like they used to. On Ann's 17th birthday, Ren prepared a surprise for her.

Note: A belated happy birthday to Ann!!

Read on AO3.

~*~*~*~*~

Ann was reading a fashion magazine on her bed when her phone vibrated, beeping once. She reached for it, patting her bed and the sides of her pillow. Where was it? Her phone was nowhere to be found, so she looked up, and saw light shining from the top of the stackable cube shelves next to her bed. She grabbed her phone and checked the notification. One message. From Ren. The smile came unbidden as Ann unlocked her phone and clicked the message.

‘Happy birthday!’ it said, followed by party-face emojis and birthday stickers. The time stamp beside it read 12:02 AM. Her grin only grew as she struggled to keep her composure, rolling over to her back and holding her phone over her head.  

‘Why aren’t you asleep?’ she asked. 

‘Why aren’t you?’ 

Ann snorted a quiet laughter. Would it kill Ren to be honest sometimes and say he wanted to be the first to wish her a happy birthday? Not that she would admit she’d been waiting for his message either. 

‘What are you doing?’ he asked then.

Ann grinned. ‘Texting you.’

‘On your bed?’

‘Yep.’

There was a momentary pause before he said, ‘Do you have plans after school? Wanna go somewhere?’

There it was—the question she’d been waiting for. Ann had kept her afternoon open for this very reason. Her grin threatened to swallow her face whole as she typed, ‘Are you asking me on a date, Ren?’

Another pause. ‘Maybe.’ 

Cheeky. Ann laughed under her breath. ‘Alright.’

***

Ren’s invitation was the only thing occupying her mind the entire morning. She wondered where they would go. Sharing a parfait at a cute cafe would be nice. Or maybe they’d go to the movies? They could eat a fluffy cake at a pastry shop. What if, at the end of their date, Ren surprised her with a present? Not something huge, but something unexpected. And then he’d walk her home, his hand holding hers, and once they reached her porch, his eyes would bore into hers in that way that made her stomach twist and knot before he’d lean into the gentlest kiss he had ever given her. The thought already made her heart race and cheeks burn.

Her phone vibrated again inside her bag while she queued in front of the subway escalator. She had put it on silent after the incessant beeping on the train ride to school. Her friends had flooded their group chat with birthday wishes and promises to hang out. A birthday party at Leblanc after school, Ryuji had said. But Ann already had plans, and when she’d said so, Ryuji and Futaba had bombarded her with questions: what plans? With whom?

Ren was conveniently not on. Ann wondered if he was doing it on purpose. It wouldn’t be a stretch to think he was waiting for her somewhere at the station, smirking to himself as he watched their group chat notifications come in. 

When her phone vibrated again, Ann exhaled a quiet sigh and fished her phone from inside her bag. If Ryuji still spouted nonsense about how no one in their right mind would date a girl like Ann, she would give him a piece of her mind once she cornered him at school. However, it wasn’t Ryuji’s name that greeted her eyes. Ann’s eyes widened when she beheld the name displayed across her phone.

‘Happy birthday, Ann!’ Shiho said in her message. ‘Wish you all the best. Sorry we can’t celebrate together like we used to, but I’m sure Ren-kun has prepared something amazing for you. I’m still doing well on my rehab. The doctor said I’ve improved a lot. Not enough to do any sports yet, but I hope we’ll get to see each other soon.’

Her fingers twitched, and she clutched her phone tight. Shiho always wished her a happy birthday before school. Then Ann would find a cute little present hiding in her shoe locker or desk drawer. Shiho would throw her arms around her from behind with a beam spreading from ear to ear as she asked her where Ann wanted to go or what she wanted to eat. A part of her expected that to happen now, grinning with glee as she read the message, before she remembered that Shiho was no longer at her school.

‘Thanks, Shiho,’ she typed her reply, then her fingers wavered over the keys, her lips quirking up in quiet delight. If Shiho’s health had improved, the time they’d be able to hang out might be closer than she thought. She’d set to type something, anything—that’s amazing news, Shiho—when the image of Shiho’s crippled body on the ground flashed across her mind. 

It’s your fault.

She froze in her tracks, her hands on her phone becoming still.

“Hey.” The sudden hand on her shoulder made her jump. A figure stood beside her—a figure in her school uniform. Sunlight reflected off a pair of glasses as Ren peered into her eyes. But then his smile faltered at her lack of response. “You okay?”

“Huh?”

“You kind of spaced out.”

Ann blinked—once, twice. “Sorry, I was—” The rush of traffic on the other side of the sidewalk startled her. She looked back behind her shoulder and found the subway exit standing some thirty feet away. She glanced at her phone, then quickly typed her reply. She’d already sent it and stashed the phone back inside her bag before Ren could take a peek at it.

“Were you waiting for me?” Ann asked instead, adjusting her bag straps around her shoulder.

Ren’s gaze was searching, but when Ann said nothing, he didn’t press the subject. He nodded down the pavement toward their school. “Let’s go,” he said, his lips breaking into a small smile.

***

“It’s from Shiho,” Ann said later that day. On lunch break, she sat on her desk, leaning against the window while she ate the melonpan she’d bought at the cafeteria. The sweetness exploded in her mouth. Ren’s dark gray eyes flitted upward, meeting hers for only a moment. “The text message I received this morning. She wished me a happy birthday.”

“That’s nice.” Ren responded with a nod, taking a bit bite of his tuna-flavored rice ball.

Ann waited for more, but no other answer came. “That’s it?” she asked.

“What else?”

She didn’t know. Some kind of surprised reaction, maybe? Or asked how Shiho was doing?

“She’s your best friend,” Ren went on. “You try not to show it, but I know how much you miss her.” 

Ann pursed her lips into a thin line. She averted her gaze to her bread now held on her lap.

“How is she, though?” he added.

“Good, it seems, at least from her texts.” Amazing, in fact. Now she just needed to wait until the doctors let Shiho travel. Or, wait, she had a better idea. Ann turned around in her seat and fully faced Ren. “Do you think we should go see her?”

“What?”

“She’s been pestering me to visit, saying there’s a confectionery store with all manner of sweets near her school. She said they’re really good.” 

Ren chuckled. “Do you wanna meet her or do you wanna eat some sweets?” he said. Ann responded with one of her own, leaning back against the window.

“Do you remember when I told you about Shiho?” she asked. 

Her voice was quiet under the cacophony of her classmates’ gossips and talks. She hoped her voice reached no one but Ren. From the corner of her eyes, she could see she had his full attention. 

“We only met in middle school, but it always felt like I knew her my entire life. She was this weird girl, quiet. While everyone avoided me, she just... randomly struck a conversation with me, saying my painting sucked.” The memory prompted a wry grin spreading across her face. “My parents were always away, so my house was always empty. When Shiho learned about this, she started taking me to all sorts of places. Pastry shops. Bakeries. These cute accessory stores or just shopping for clothes. Sometimes, I go with her to visit some sports stores or help her practice before big games. I never missed her games...”

Ann trailed off. It seemed like it was just yesterday when they were perusing the stores in Shibuya’s underground mall. Shiho had never tasted the buffet’s chocolate fountain either. When Ann went to visit her, maybe she could bring Shiho a crepe from that stand in Central Street Shiho loved so much. The small pang in her heart returned, clenching a little tighter. 

After school, Ann refrained herself from pestering Ren to tell her where they were going. It was going to be a surprise, and she was content to let it stay that way. They rode the train to Shibuya and hopped off at the station. She half-expected Ren to lead her out and into Central Street, but they headed for the Keio Inokashira Line, where they boarded another train heading for Inokashira Park.

“We’re going to Inokashira Park?” Ann asked once they boarded the train and found an empty spot between a man in a suit and a woman carrying groceries.

“Yep,” he replied, but didn’t elaborate.

That was unexpected, though Ann wouldn’t say she minded going there. It had been a while, and strolling through the vast park under beautiful autumn leaves might be a great way to spend her birthday. 

The ride took 20 minutes, give or take. They descended from the train, then exited the station to a quiet residential area. The park lay only a short walk away. Over a stone bridge crossing the river, trees with gold and brown leaves lined the path on both sides. Ann breathed in the crisp afternoon air, cool against her lungs. She always loved it here. 

“So,” Ann said, turning around on her side and peering into his eyes. “What’s the plan?”

“Want me to tell you, or would you prefer it be a surprise?” He’d kept walking with hands in his pockets, his lips curving into the beginning of a smile.

Ann grinned. “Surprise me.”

Ren grinned back.

The first agenda of the day was a swan boat—one of the top tourist attractions of the park. Ren had apparently accompanied Yusuke on a ride once, where several people had thought them a couple. He had wanted to ride it with Ann after that. But when the rental place came into view, standing in the distance over the bank of the large pond, Ann ground her feet to a halt. Legend had it that the Goddess Benzaiten would curse any couple who rode the swan boat together. They would break up shortly thereafter. 

“You really want to ride the boat?” Ann asked.

Noticing she had stayed back, Ren paused on his steps, tilting his head in genuine inquiry. “Why?” he asked. Ann refused to say why, partly because it was a ludicrous legend, partly because she feared the legend might come true. Understanding dawned on his face when she said nothing, and Ren pulled his lips into a teasing grin. “What, you’re afraid of some superstition?”

There were valid reasons one should be afraid of it. What if something bad truly happened to them and they broke up? 

“If something bad truly happens and we break up,” Ren went on, “you can just blame the curse and forget all about me.”

Ann scoffed, feeling his reply was ridiculous enough to lighten her mood. “I could never forget you,” she said. Her answer brought a smile to his face, and Ren reached out to take her hand.

“That’s why I’m saying we should get on the boat and prove the legend wrong. Besides, would you really let some curse get between us?”

The answer was obvious as Ann felt her lips pulled into a quiet grin. He tugged her hand, then led her to the boat rental place.

It was her first time riding the boat too. It seemed fun, but she never had the chance to ride it. “Next time” had been her reason. If she thought about it now, there were no particular reasons behind it. Why? She could’ve ridden on it with Shiho if she wanted. Had Ann ingrained the curse so deep in her mind that she became incapacitated because of it? Because even without the bad luck, her life had already been a hell of its own. 

People had shunned her. Some had even bullied her. She’d tried not to let it get to her, but for a twelve- or thirteen-year-old, peer pressure had been enough to corner her and make her think of the worst. Should I dye my hair black and wear contact lenses? If I look like everyone else, people may start to like me. These thoughts had spiraled down in her mind with no signs of stopping. She was always alone; her parents were never home. She had no one to depend on—until Shiho, but even that light only lasted three years before she was taken away from her. 

Paddling the swan boat was harder than it looked. And with a difference in strength, it was hard to coordinate their movements. Ann would think their time in the metaverse had strengthened her muscles, but that did not seem like the case. 

“You don’t look like it, but you’re pretty strong, aren’t you?” Ann said, huffing and puffing her breath. 

Ren wasn’t entirely active in gym class either. He wasn’t the strongest nor the fastest. When the boys played soccer or basketball, he would always sit back. “I hate breaking a sweat,” he’d said once. Yet every time they were in the metaverse, he always looked like he was ready to show off. 

Ren chuckled under his breath. “I’ve been going to the gym. Morgana nagged me to strengthen my muscles.”

Figures. The cat was behind everything. She should follow his example and visit the gym more often. 

Wait—

“Where is Morgana?” Ann hadn’t seen him since morning. 

Ren’s smile was wry. “When I told him I’ll be going on a date with you, he turned around and flicked his tail at me.”

“Poor guy. You should buy him something. What about sushi?”

“I should buy you something.”

Ann clicked her tongue in irritation then stared him down, her eyes hard. “You never gave him those tuna sushi, right?” He never did, from all the way back in August—Ann knew. Ren quickly relented, averting his gaze and finding some interesting spot to observe on the water. “It won’t be the high-end sushi bar like in Ginza, but I’m sure there are some delicious ones around here.”

“Then,” he said, “we’re having sushi for dinner.”

***

Massive trees lined the pond on either side. In the spring, pink and white sakura petals decorated the trees in its transient beauty. Ann often sat on the benches, under the awning of the low-hanging branches and overlooking the pond. She imagined that rowing a boat in the middle of it would feel like traversing through a forest. The thick foliage obscured the view of passers-by and park-goers, making it seem like she was in a dreamscape or fantasy, where there was only herself and nature. 

That was what Ann felt now that she was sitting on a boat in the middle of the pond. But instead of sakura, the trees were now lined with gold and red and yellow with a dash of green here and there. They had stopped paddling, resting their legs. They’d gone quite far, their boat rocking between the gentle waves. Late sunlight dappled across the water surface. When a cool, crisp wind that brushed past her skin like a soft caress against her face, Ann watched the water rippling along with it. By the bank, leaves danced in the wind, swirling and dipping and soaring high until they flew out of sight. 

“Having fun?” Ren asked. Ann nodded, drawing a quiet, contented breath. She felt his smile more than she saw it, before he shifted his gaze away and said, “I heard you’ve been wanting to ride the boat.”

That caught her attention. She turned to him.

“Who did you hear it from?”

“Shiho.” The answer rolled easily off his tongue, as though it was apparent. If Ren were any other person, Ann would have thought he might have heard it in passing or from Shiho herself. But he barely knew Shiho—barely talked to her before the incident in April—so how could he have known? He didn’t give her a chance to ask before he glanced behind his shoulder and said, “The sun almost set.”

The far eastern sky had grown a deep blazing orange while the sun made its slow descent behind them, sending out the last of its rays before dipping under the horizon. Ann swallowed her question as she moved to paddle alongside Ren to turn the boat around. They’d gotten the hang of it, finding the perfect rhythm between his paddling and hers. They reached the rental space by the time the sun completely disappeared. 

Hand in hand, they headed for the gate leading toward Kichijoji. Various kinds of stores stood on both sides. From second-hand boutiques to chic cafes, furniture stores and handmade accessory stores. Ren’s focus had been on his phone for a while, typing one-handed as text message after text message came with each vibration and incoming beep. 

“Who’re you talking with?” Ann asked.

“Hm? Oh, Sojiro.” The slight pause had tugged her curiosity, but when he met her inquiring gaze, Ren only said, “He’s making sure I don’t go home too late.”

That was nice, Ann thought, to have someone to worry about when he would get home. She didn’t have anyone like that.

Ren messed with his phone for a while longer. When Ann peeked, she noticed the map open on his screen. ‘Sushi bar’ was the search item and several red dots had appeared. Ren clicked and unclicked each dot, reading the descriptions and the reviews left on it, until he finally decided on a place and led her to it. 

His phone beeped again. Another incoming message. Ann glanced at him right as Ren sent his reply. 

“Boss again?”

Sojiro didn’t seem like the type to worry so much. Hadn’t he let Ren out on nights? Ren’s ambiguous nod only fed her suspicion that he was hiding something. She opened her mouth then, about to say something, when they rounded a corner and a voice she hadn’t expected to hear reach her ear. 

“Ann.”

Ann froze. 

Soft and meek, it was a voice she hadn’t heard in person for months. The last time Ann heard it was when they brought her to the school rooftop before she moved away. Ann slowly turned around in search of the source, and there, some twenty feet ahead, was a person she hadn’t expected to see. Dressed in a navy-blue jacket and white cropped trousers, her black hair tied in its usual ponytail, Shiho’s features lit up by the smile blossoming across her face. She held her hand high above her head, waving at her excitedly.

“Aren’t you going to say hi?” Ren asked when Ann failed to react.

He was beaming, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. Did he know? Did he plan this? Nonsense. Didn’t he know how far Shiho’s home now was? How had she even gotten to this place? On a school day, no less. Then there was her message that morning. Sorry we can’t celebrate together like we used to. Shiho wouldn’t have said that if she’d planned to come. She wasn’t the type to surprise Ann like this. But—

I’m sure Ren-kun has prepared something amazing for you.

Ann slowly shifted her attention to her still-beaming boyfriend, who was nodding his head toward Shiho as if trying to say, go on. Go to her. 

“Did you plan this?” Her voice was only above a whisper. 

He replied with a shrug and a knowing smile. Maybe he thought this was what she wanted, and maybe it was—she’d said so herself; she wanted to meet Shiho. But as Ann loosened her hold on Ren’s hand and all she wanted was to cross the distance and hug Shiho with all her might—because Shiho was here! She’d travelled all the way here!—Ann found herself hitting Ren’s arm instead. Again and again and again—hitting him with a fist as, one by one, tears rolled down her cheeks. 

Why did he bring Shiho here? Didn’t Ren know her friend was still in recovery? Didn’t he know she was still going to rehab every week? Ann knew, because Ann had been in touch with Shiho every other day. They’d texted each other and called each other. Ann knew everything that was going on in Shiho’s life as though she lived it herself. And Ann knew that every day was still a struggle, even though Shiho had said she could almost do everything by herself now. But almost was still not one hundred percent everything. Her physician praised her for improving so much in so little time, but they’d told her to not push her limit. And travelling was clearly pushing the limit. 

What if something bad happened to Shiho on the way? What if Shiho could never return to how she once was?

Arms wrapped around her. Shiho rested her cheek on Ann’s shoulder, warm tears seeping into her school blazer.

“I’m alright, Ann,” Shiho whispered to her ear, over and over like a mantra. “I’m safe.”

***

“I’ll leave you two to catch up,” Ren said before he disappeared from the bar. Ann watched him leave from their seat by the corner. They’d ordered several sushi sets, Ren promising to pay for everything. From his part-time jobs, he’d explained to Shiho. Though there was probably some truth to his words, Ann knew most of it came from their Palace pilfering. 

Silence descended, broken only when Shiho said, “Don’t blame him too much, Ann.”

Ann glanced at her friend before shifting her gaze to her hands. “I’m happy you’re here with me now, Shiho, but…” She shook her head. “Once we return, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind. How could he have thought of bringing you all the way back to Tokyo?” If their sushi had arrived, Ann imagined she would have taken out her irritation on them. It’s not that she disliked Shiho’s presence. Just that…

“I wanted to.” Shiho’s quiet reply drew Ann’s attention to her. “I want to celebrate your birthday with you. And more than anything, I wanted to show you how well I’ve gotten.” Her lips quirked into a small smile, brightening her features. “And it’s not like I went alone. Mom’s here somewhere.”

“Your mom?”

Shiho gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “I got an earful, though.”

“Serves you right! If you wanted us to meet, I could’ve gone to your place instead. In fact, we were just talking about that this afternoon.” 

“But that wouldn’t have been a surprise.”

A muscle twitched along Ann’s jaw as Shiho let out another light laugh. Ann clenched both of her hands on the table, gritting her teeth at her friend’s nonchalant attitude.

“Don’t overestimate your body, Shiho, please. Didn’t the doctor say you shouldn’t push yourself? You’re not your one hundred percent yet. What if something irreversibly bad happens? Yes, it’s great to hear your health has gotten better and I can’t wait to hang out with you again, but—”

Shiho’s crippled form flashed across her mind. Her throat closed up; tears sprang in her eyes as Ann furiously blinked them away. When she spoke next, she couldn’t hide the tremble in her voice: 

“I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.” If Shiho’s rush to return to her full potential backfired, Ann didn’t know if she could forgive herself.

The server brought their sushi with three glasses of cold green tea. Ann averted her gaze, brushing at a stray tear as she took out her phone and mumbled something about telling Ren the food had arrived. However, before she could, Shiho’s hand encompassed hers. 

“Do you still blame yourself?” her friend asked.

Ann went still. “I don’t,” she said, even as her heart clenched tight and her breath caught in her throat. 

“It’s not your fault, Ann.”

She knew that. She thought she did. That was why Carmen woke up from inside her. But then there were moments when she lay in the dark, when thoughts she never knew she ever had kept her awake the entire night.

Your fault. Your fault. Your fault. You should’ve noticed the signs. You should’ve known she was suffering. Even if there had been nothing you could’ve done, you should’ve been there for her at the least. You’re her friend! Why had you let her feel so alone, so cornered, that the only consolation she could find was on the other side of the rooftop ledge?

Shiho pulled her into her arms, whispering soothing words to her ear. “It’s alright. It’s okay. I’m fine. It’s not your fault, Ann. It never was.”

The dam broke. Ann clutched onto Shiho’s back as tears she never realized she had held streamed down her face. 

***

Maybe it was an excuse—checking up on Shiho, or going to the sweets store near her school. All Ann ever wanted was to see her friend healthy again so they could have fun like they used to.

When Ren returned to his seat, Ann ended up giving him a piece of her mind. A little more nagging and scolding and refusing to speak with him for the rest of the day. Shiho joked that it must have been Benzaiten’s curse, at which Ren laughed and Ann frowned. 

“We’re not breaking up,” Ann said with certainty. 

Shiho and Ren looked at her in surprise, after which Shiho said to Ren, “You heard her, Ren-kun.” They snickered at Ann’s expanse. 

Shiho’s mother had gone to Kichijoji’s shopping arcade before she went to pick her daughter up at the sushi bar. Ann drew an internal sigh of relief when she saw no signs of vexations on her face as she greeted Ann with a smile. When the girls introduced Ren, however, there was a frozen stillness to her features that even made the unflappable Ren break out in sweats.

They waved her goodbye, but before they turned around the corner to wherever her mother parked her car, Shiho turned around once and shouted, “Come over sometimes, okay?” Shiho beamed, waving her hand high, then disappeared from view. 

“You heard her,” Ren said. She did.

Ren offered his hand, but Ann only spared it a glance before turning her back on him and heading down the opposite direction from Shiho. Ren fell into step beside her. 

“I’ll walk you home,” he said.

“No need.”

“Even so.”

Night had fallen. Lights flickered along the storefronts and windows. Conversations floated around as they walked in silence between passers-by in the shopping district. 

As they turned the corner and headed back toward the park, Ann murmured, “Thanks.” 

She’d acted strong—acted like she had accepted everything. That was never the case. A part of her—an insecure part of her—always came in the middle of the night to whisper despicable things about herself. Fake. Impostor. She only joined the Phantom Thieves because she felt guilty about Shiho. She’d sought to change the hearts of vile adults so no one would have to suffer like her again. It was true, but that was only half of the truth. In all honesty, Ann wanted to seek forgiveness. A redemption. If she accomplished many good deeds, maybe the Gods would hear her prayer and give Shiho her health back. 

As the park came into view, Ann felt Ren’s gaze on her. She still refused to meet it, but let her face break into a tiny crack of a smile. The twinge of pain in her heart gradually subsided, leaving her feeling liberated, as though a heavy weight had been lifted off her mind.

~ END ~

[cadence-talle]

write livvy and della

hey, grace. how’re you doing?

Snapshots

Pairing: Della Vacker/Livvy Rothsdell

Wordcount: 2,875 

Other notes: Hopping on the Dellivvy train with this oddly-paced mess. It jumps around a bit, so be sure to read the headings before each scene! (I also have a timeline if you need it.)

Thirteen years after, thirty-one years before.

Della is married on a hot summer day, under a pearly arch. Her dress is spun lace, her flowers are delicate and white, and her fiance looks perfectly handsome. Della is so happy she could burst. 

Even the sudden outburst at the entrance to the garden, Dame Alina shouting about how she deserves Alden, can’t shake Della. She feels like she’s floating, like she could lift mountains right now without breaking a sweat. 

Alden takes her hands in his as the ceremony comes to a close, smiling at her. Over his shoulder, Della can’t help herself from glancing back at the audience, at the empty seat practically shouting at her. In the sea of tearfully smiling faces, it sticks out like a beacon. Something twists in her gut.

Della tears her attention away and focuses back on her new husband. This is what you want, she reminds herself. This is what you’ve always wanted. 

She pushes down the strange emotion building in her chest and pastes a smile on her face just in time to say, 

“I do.”

-/-

Six years after, thirty-eight years before. 

“Are you going to the Commencement Ball?” Della asks. It’s the biggest Foxfire event every year- a dance, for all those students moving up to the elite levels. She’s been excited for it for months. 

Livvy snorts from where she’s sprawled across Della’s bed, doing homework. “Can’t, remember? I’m not going into the Towers.”

“Oh, right.” Della flushes- she can’t believe she forgot. Livvy’s trying to hide it, but she’s upset she couldn’t go on to the Elite Levels, annoyed at herself for being Talentless. “Well, do you want to?”

“Does it matter?” Livvy asks. “I won’t be allowed to go either way.”

“You could come as my plus-one,” Della says before she can think. Livvy’s head snaps up, and she stares at Della. 

“For real? I thought you’d bring your boyfriend.” 

Della shrugs. “I think I’m going to break up with Caton, actually. And you’re more important anyway.”

“But-” Livvy sits up, waving a hand in the air. “Won’t people talk?”

“People will talk no matter what I do,” Della says. “Besides, it’s not even that incriminating. We’re just going as friends.”

“Friends,” Livvy echoes. “Right.” She offers a small smile. “All right. That sounds kinda fun, actually. I’ll go.”

Della grins. “Great.”

Two weeks later, they walk into Foxfire side by side. 

-/-

Ten years after, thirty-four years before. 

“Whoa.” 

Livvy glances around the large room, the tiny lights hanging on the walls reflecting in her eyes. She grins at Della, tiny name tag (Livvy Rothsdell, Guest) hanging off her dress. “This place looks awesome.” 

Della laughs, shrugging one shoulder up. “The gnomes did a great job. I’m still a little nervous, though.”

Livvy grabs her hand. “You’ll do fine. It’s just talking to people, right? You’ve been good at that your whole life.”

“I guess. I just- I wish I could do this later.”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure your parents are going to blow a fuse if you push this off again. They’re already worried to death about your ‘prospects.’”

Della gives a tiny smile. Livvy holds up their entwined hands. “And I’m here, okay? I’ll be here the whole time.”

“Thank you,” Della whispers, and the doors swing open. 

Della makes her rounds of the room, greeting people and making small talk. Livvy’s always there, hovering on the edges of the conversation, ready to pull Della out if she starts panicking. It’s actually not as bad as Della was expecting- she knows almost everyone there.

 She’s met almost everyone in the room when a man comes up (Alden Falaichte, #256, the nametag supplies), and sweeps into a low bow, kissing her hand. 

“Nice to meet you,” Della says. Alden gives her a charming smile. 

“The pleasure is all mine,” he responds. 

Looking back on it, that’s where everything went wrong. 

-/-

Fourteen years after, thirty years before. 

She’s surprised at how quickly Alvar arrives. They’ve been married barely six months before she gets pregnant, only a year when their son is born. Holding him is like looking into the sun- bright, warm, but somehow foreboding. 

Later, Della will know that it’s because that was the moment she knew she couldn’t get out. 

She keeps her soft smile and leans into Alden as the painter drags his brush across the canvas, memorializing this great feat. The three of them are a family now; a real one. One that will be looked up to, the newest branch of the great Vacker family. 

“It’s beautiful,” she says, looking at the finished painting on the wall later. The painter’s managed to capture all the details- the perfect color of Alden’s eyes, the tiny curls in Alvar’s hair, Della’s quirk at the corner of her mouth. It’s a picture-perfect family, an enclosed biosphere that will be put on a pedestal. Della’s been standing on that pedestal her entire life.

She asked Alden once, before they were married, if he was all right with all the attention. 

“It’s a lot,” she said, twisting a lock of hair around her finger. “People are looking at you, talking about you, all the time. It can be exhausting sometimes. I understand if you don’t want-”

“Della.” Alden tilted her chin up slightly, smiling. “This is all I’ve ever wanted.”

Della smiled. “Okay.”

“Okay,” she whispers, tracing the edges of the painting.

Somewhere, off in another room, Alvar starts to cry. 

-/-

Forty-one years after, three years before.

Della paces nervously back and forth across the carpeted floor of Fitz’s room, glancing back at the bed in which her son lies. He’s still unconscious, the venom slowly spiderwebbing its way across his chest. She shivers. 

The door flies open, and a tall woman in a gem-studded mask runs in. Della freezes. 

“Liv?” she whispers. It’s been years, but she’d recognize her old best friend anywhere. Even with a mask on. Livvy meets her eyes. 

“Hey,” she says sheepishly. “Heard you were here.”

“What are you doing here?” Della asks. “Since when are you a member of the Black Swan?”

Livvy shrugs, a gesture so familiar Della knows it like the back of her own hand. “I have been for a while, actually. Almost sixteen years.”

“Why didn’t I know?”

“We weren’t really talking when I joined.”

And that’s when it hits Della. She didn’t know Livvy had joined the Black Swan because she didn’t know Livvy anymore back then, still doesn’t know her anymore. She’s struck with a sense of longing, of missing what they used to have. 

But it wasn’t you, she thinks. It was Livvy. She broke things off, not you. “How’s Quinlin?” she asks as Livvy opens a bag and starts pulling out elixirs. 

“Oh, we filed a match fail,” Livvy says offhandedly. “Things didn’t work out.”

“I’m- sorry?” Della responds awkwardly. Livvy shrugs.

“Eh, you know. I only really married him because of you and Alden, you know? We didn’t really have much in common at the end of the day. I couldn’t talk to him, not like I can talk to you.” She pauses, tapping a fingernail against a glass bottle. “Could talk to you.”

Della flinches. “I think I’m going to wait outside,” she says, moving towards the exit. “Tell me if you need anything.”

“Goodbye,” Livvy murmurs, almost too low to hear. “I never got to say that.”

Della closes the door. 

-/-

Three years after, forty-one years before.

“And I swear, if one more person asks me how we became friends, I’m going to steal their kneecaps.”

Della laughs, adjusting her bag on her shoulder as they walk through the streets of Atlantis. They’re trying to find a gift for Livvy’s mom- it’s not going very well, though, since the only things Livvy can remember she likes are “music” and “those weird jam pastries” and neither of those things is very helpful. She peeks into another shop window as Livvy keeps talking. 

“Everyone’s just like, ‘oh, but you’re Talentless, how could someone like you be friends with a Vacker,’ and I’m like, ‘wow, I wasn’t aware that abilities dictated who you could be friends with.’” She groans. “Honestly. This would all be easier if I could just manifest already.”

“Hey,” Della says, grabbing her hand. “I don’t care that you’re Talentless, okay? You’re my best friend.”

“Well, duh,” Livvy says. “It would just stop the gossip mill.”

Della shrugs. She’s been around the gossip mill her whole life- if it’s not one thing, it’s another. Then she spots a tiny box in the storefront of a shop across the street. “Wait, what’s that?”

That, as it turns out, is a music player, a tiny instrument that plays the newest Song songs. Livvy takes one look at it and brings it up to the purchase counter. 

“My mom’s going to love it,” she says as they leave the store. “Thank you so much.”

“I just saw it in the window,” Della laughs. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Still.” Livvy leans over and gives Della a quick kiss on the cheek. A warmth and the scent of lilacs surround Della, gone as quickly as they’d come. “Thank you,” she says, stepping back. 

Della blinks, trying to quell the odd rising feeling in her chest. “You’re welcome,” she manages. “Um. Do you want to get butterblasts?”

Livvy’s face lights up, and Della reminds herself that this is normal. Friendship is normal. Livvy probably gives all her friends cheek kisses. 

“Yes,” Livvy says, hooking her arm through Della’s. “Let’s go.”

-/-

Seven years after, thirty-seven years before. 

Dear Livvy, 

I miss you. Everyone here is nice, sure, but they don’t have your humor or your looks. I have this constant feeling that everyone wants to be my friend because of my family, not because of me. You were never like that. 

Why were you never like that?

Anyways, my studies are going well. The Elite Levels are… harder, than normal Foxfire, but it’s fine. Not like I have much else to do. 

They were playing a song today in Advanced History, the one with all the birds; do you remember it used to be your favorite? You’d play it on loop, talking about how it “embodied nature” or whatever, until I had to tackle you to shut you up. 

Do you know how many times I almost kissed you last summer? How many times we were sitting so close it would have been easy to just lean forward? Because I do, and it’s a lot. 

How are you? How’s work? I heard you’re training to be a physician- that’s so cool! I hope that when I come home you can show me the stuff you’ve learned. 

I should go. Have a ton of work. 

I love miss you,

Della 

-/-

Thirty-one years after, thirteen years before.

Della and Alden don’t fight often. Della’s not one for fighting, honestly; if someone cares enough about a subject to actually come to blows about it, she usually assumes they’re right. Livvy always said that was a stupid mindset, but Della disagrees- in high society, it’s easier to just agree and move on than to argue. 

On this, however, she refuses to back down. 

“No,” she says, striding closer to Fitz and taking the six-year-old in her lap. “You are not sending our son to the Forbidden Cities.”

Alden sighs. “Honestly, Della, I’ve told you, it’s barely even illegal. And this is important-” 

“I don’t give a flying fizzleberry how important it is! He’s six years old, Alden! You can’t throw a six-year-old a melder and tell him to be careful. He’s going to get hurt.”

“I’m big!” Fitz objects. “I could do it.” He looks up at Della, eyes wide. “What am I doing again?”

Della glares at her husband. “See? He’s a little kid. He’s not going to be roped into your insane missions.”

“This is important-”

“Nothing is more important than our son!”

“Some things are.”

Della steps back, mouth hanging open as Alden scoops Fitz into his arms. He glances back up at her. “I’m trying to save the world, Della. You’ll understand when we find her.”

He heads towards the exit, and Della drops into a chair. Softly, she mutters, 

“I hope you never find that girl if this is what she’s being brought into.”

-/-

Forty-two years after, two years before.

Della marches into Alden’s office and slaps a pile of papers down on the desk. He looks up, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s this?”

“I’m filing a match fail.” Della says bluntly. “You just need to sign right there and I’ll ship it off.”

“And what happens if I don’t sign?” Alden asks. Della places another sheet of paper on the desk. 

“Then I bring the issue of domestic and child abuse to the Council, as well as telling them how long you were illegally going to the Fobidden Cities.” She smiles at him. “Your choice.”

Alden stares at her. “After everything I’ve done-” 

“Nope,” Della says. “You don’t get to do this right now. You don’t have the right. Just sign and get out of my house.”

“Your house?”

“It’s belonged to the Vacker family for generations,” Della informs him. “And you are no longer a Vacker.”

“Della-” Alden starts, but Della’s turning towards the door. 

“With all due respect,” she says, “I’ve had to put up with your bullshit for twenty-nine years. I’m done.”

And she exits the room. 

“Why did you want to meet me here?” Livvy asks an hour later. She’s sitting across from Della at a small coffee shop in Atlantis. This is, Della reflects, the first time they’ve seen each other- really seen each other- since she got married. 

“I filed a match fail against Alden,” she responds. “He’s leaving.”

Livvy’s eyebrows shoot up. “That’s- big.”

Della shrugs. “It’s been a long time coming. I wanted to tell you.”

“Oh. I- okay.” Livvy’s quiet for a moment, absentmindedly ripping flakes off of a pastry. “Why?” she finally asks. 

Wordlessly, Della hands her a folded piece of paper. She’s been doing that a lot lately- writing down her thoughts so she doesn’t have to articulate them out loud. It’s helpful, sometimes. 

The paper she’s handed Livvy has only three words on it:

I love you. 

Livvy looks at her. “What-”

“I think,” Della admits, “I’ve been in love with you for a very long time. Since school, even. I was confused, back then. Scared, of what my family would say.” She exhales slowly. “I’m tired of being scared.” 

She glances up and Livvy. “So- if you’d be okay with it, I’d like to try something.”

Livvy blinks and nods, and Della kisses her. 

This is nothing like kissing Alden. This is warmth and security and the smell of lilacs, so much like that cheek kiss in Atlantis all those years ago. This is home- Livvy is home- and Della loves it. 

-/-

Then, forty-four years before.

“Oh!”

Della runs straight into someone, knocking herself to the ground. A girl, clad in the same black uniform as Della, is standing over her, dark jewel-scattered braids hanging around her face. She smiles at Della. 

“Hey, sorry about that,” she says, offering a hand and pulling Della to her feet. “I’m Livvy, by the way.”

“Della Vacker,” Della responds. “And I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Livvy laughs, flashing Della a bright smile. “Let’s just agree it was both our faults. Where are you headed?” 

“Elvin history,” Della says confidently. She’s had her schedule memorized since the day it arrived with the rest of her supplies. “You?”

“Uh,” Livvy bites her lip, rummaging through her pockets. “I’m not sure? It might be elementalism. Ooh, or ability detecting!” She shrugs. “I’ll figure it out. See you at lunch?”

Della blinks. “I- sure. That sounds good.”

Livvy flashes her a thumbs-up and takes off, calling behind her. 

“Great! Nice to meet you, Della Vacker!”

And Della, standing in the middle of the Level One hallway, has a sudden feeling that her life is about to change for the better. 

-/-

Forty-four years after, now. 

Della is married for the second time on a cool October afternoon, surrounded by her friends and family. Fitz is best man, Biana is maid of honor, and the rest of their friends are in the wedding party in one capacity or another. Keefe and Dex specifically requested to be flower boys. 

There are no interruptions this time, no shouting at the garden gates, no anger that they’re getting married. It’s just Livvy and Della, now Livvy-and-Della, and a lot of love. 

“I first fell for you when you fell for me, that first day in Foxfire,” Livvy laughs. “I looked at you and I thought, that’s her. That’s the girl I want to spend the rest of my life with.” She looks at Della. “That’s the girl I am spending the rest of my life with.”

Della takes her hands, twining their fingers together. “I love you,” she says simply. “I love you, and I’m never going to stop saying it.”

The priest drones on, the ceremony comes to a close, and Della says “I do,” for the second time in her life. 

This time, she really means it. 

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One:  Breaking the Curse

Chapter 18: Dramatic Theatrics

Everything had gone exactly as planned and maybe even better if the visit from Emma Swan suggested anything. And then, day by day, it wasn't at all like he'd planned. There was one week between the fire at town hall, the day Emma and Sidney both announced their plans to run, and the day of the debate, the same day that Storybrooke would be asked to cast their ballots. One week was a lot of time to think, a lot of time to panic. It was a lot of time for the signs that Mary Margaret was making, the same signs that depicted Emma to be a hero because she'd pulled the Mayor from the fire, to get on the Savior's nerves. It was a lot of time for her to come clean to the town, to tell them that she wasn't the hero they thought, that the fire was staged by none other than the notoriously hated Mr. Gold. It was time for her to step down because she wanted to fight fair and time for the town to rally around her and tell her that they wanted her. It was time enough for everything to work out just like he'd planned.

And yet, it didn't happen.

Each night this week, he'd gone to Granny's, but it wasn't because he actually liked her burgers, or maybe that he enjoyed being charged extra for the pickles. The truth was that sometimes alone in his shop, he felt isolated and cut off from the rest of the town. But Granny's diner…that was the heart of Storybrooke. It was the place one went to get news before it was fit to print and the place to overhear all the town gossip. Night after night, he walked into Granny's this week to order a burger, not because he wanted one for dinner, but just because he was waiting to receive the stares from angry citizens. He was hoping for confirmation that Emma had finally told the tale of what really happened that night of the fire, or at least her version of it.

Night after night, he was sorely disappointed.

He was getting nervous. He didn't have a backup plan. He didn't have anything to force the girl to tell the world. And without her to stand up to him…there would just be her; Emma Swan. Yes, she was the woman who had saved the mayor from a fire and held the job of deputy for weeks now, but thanks to him, she was now also the teenage, jailbird mother. He had done her character a favor at the same time he had simultaneously done it a disservice. To be fair, he never would have done that if he thought there was a chance that she wouldn't act appropriately and not tell the world what he'd done. He'd have thought of another way to get her to that hall to save Regina if that were the case. But now...

Was the good enough to outweigh the bad? He didn't know. All he knew on the day of the debate was that there was still time. Not a lot of it, admittedly, but he'd learned in his time that the last minute of deals could always garner great results. Timing could be key, but it wasn't always everything. So, as long as the people of Storybrooke hadn't voted yet, as long as there was still a public forum that they could gather together to hear Emma speak, potentially even confess, there was still time.

That was the main reason he'd come. Of course, as a knowledgeable man in Storybrooke, he'd planned to vote, but if things had happened differently, he probably would have skipped the pomp and circumstances. For his own purposes, hopefully, he arrived at the last possible "acceptable" second. He wasn't surprised to see that it was busy. With Emma's reputation, he could have guessed that people would come out to ogle her either for the good reasons or for the bad ones. He did have a flare of hope when he looked around the room, a brief flash of movement by the stage. It was the curtain. Open now, someone in the wings had pulled it back to look out at the crowd; someone with blonde hair. Emma Swan.

He could feel her eyes on him. Though it wasn't the best way to do it, he kept his eyes on her. He made it a warning gaze on purpose, something threatening and terrifying. Though it was his deepest desire for her to come clean and endear herself to the people of Storybrooke, he wasn't going to let her know that yet. In his experience, some people, when stressed, could do the wrong thing. But this child, the Savior, the one who had darkness eliminated from her before birth, she would do the right thing under stress. She hadn't turned him in yet, but as he stared back at her, it occurred to him just how perfect it would be for her to do it here, in front of everyone, with him watching. So he gave her a threatening look, one that he hoped conveyed to her that she was forbidden to tell what she knew, one he hoped that she'd take as a challenge. Archie would probably use the term "reverse psychology," he liked to call it manipulation at its best.

As Emma disappeared behind the curtain again he took a deep breath. He hoped he hadn't judged the Savior wrong. If he had, he was going to have to think up a new plan. He took an empty seat near the back, right along the aisle. It wasn't there for everyone to see, but it was easy for Emma to see, and at the moment, that was all he cared about. Right on time, Archie and the candidates walked onto the stage and took their seats to the applause and whooping of the crowd. He remained calm as he continued to stare at Emma Swan. Whether or not she'd been looking forward to the debate or felt prepared for it, she at least looked professional. She'd dressed up today. It was the only time he'd ever seen her in a skirt. But her posture was wrong; sad and defeated. Not good for someone wanting to show the town they were confident.

All applause died down as the grasshopper moved to the podium. "People of Storybrooke, I am Doctor Archibald Hopper. I've been asked to moderate this debate by Mayor Mills as a neutral party. Of course, I've been asked to remind you that following this debate, there will be an election, a period for you to cast your votes for the candidate that you believe will best serve you, the citizens of Storybrooke. Now…I just want to begin by saying that tragedy has brought us here, but we are faced with this decision. And now, we ask only that you listen with an open mind and to please vote your conscience. So, without further ado, I'd like to introduce you to the candidates: Sidney Glass and Emma Swan. Glass…Swan…sounds like something that a decorator would make you buy…"

The bug chuckled at his sorry excuse for a joke, and for the first time, he stopped looking at Emma and felt his gaze automatically draw to Archie. He'd never known the cricket to be nervous before or make bad jokes, but suddenly he'd never missed the chirping so much.

"Wow, crickets. Okay, uh…uh, Mr. Glass, your opening statement."

There was an appropriate amount of applause as Archie yielded the microphone to the former genie, and he gave a smile worthy of any politician. "I just want to say that if elected, I want to serve as a reflection of the best qualities of Storybrooke-honesty, neighborliness, and strength. Thank you," he muttered before returning to his seat.

Short, sweet, the bit about being a reflection was a bit ironic but otherwise well worded…if he weren't actively rooting for the other side, Mr. Gold would have been appreciative.

"And Emma Swan," Archie introduced.

He shifted in his seat a bit as the Savior took her place, just enough to make sure she hadn't forgotten where he sat. Then he stilled and continued his stare. On the outside, he hoped he was projecting venom. He hoped she'd take it as a warning. But inside, he felt like his heart might burst right out of his chest. Time was running out. This was her last chance. He needed her to do this. He needed her to challenge him. People with a common goal could accomplish a lot. People with a common enemy could accomplish more. It could get an outsider, a criminal, and a teenage mother elected Sheriff. She just had to do what she knew was right!

"You guys all know I have what they call a, uh…troubled past. But, you've been able to overlook it because of the, um…'hero thing.' But here's the thing…the fire was a setup."

Yes.

A buzz of energy went through the crowd as she said her words, something that reminded him of the feeling of magic. His heart drummed against his chest while he continued to watch. Emma's eyes found him for the slightest of moments and then-

"Mr. Gold agreed to support me in this race, but I didn't know that that meant he was going to set a fire. I don't have definitive evidence, but I'm sure. And the worst part of all this was-the worst part of all this is, I let you all think it was real. And I can't win that way. I'm sorry."

He could have laughed. He wanted to laugh with joy! Oh, he'd imagined something like this happening all week, but he could never have dreamed it would be so perfectly timed, so public as it was! This…this was perfection! This was so much better than he'd imagined. It just needed one final touch.

With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself to his feet. He cast his eyes down to the ground mocking something like what he imagined embarrassment would look and feel like. And then he left.

Outside he finally let his demeanor drop. The corners of his mouth curled up. He didn't burst out laughing as he had wanted to, but he did walk away smiling with confidence. That had gone beautifully.