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quillsareswords · 4 years

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Smoke: VII | Stay Awhile

SUMMARY: After vanishing for four years, you return to the place you once called home, to the people you once called family. We all carry our baggage in different ways, using different techniques to hide it. You just happen to hide it in cigarette smoke.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: While the antique book shop on Fifth Avenue may have burned down long before your return, the owner you never forgot is still making an impact on your life, and she doesn’t even know it.

SERIES WARNINGS: cigarette smoking; underage drinking; gang activity; violence; swearing; blood; self-hate

MASTER LISTS in BIO

The air is warmer now, than it was a few hours ago. Your windows are open, floors freshly swept, dishes freshly washed, bed freshly made. Outside is crisp and clean, and you've decided the inside should be too.

Only a lamp illuminates the room, the setting sun does the rest, leaving the corners of the room bathed in comforting shadows.

You’re in the middle of sorting out the good food in your refrigerator from the bad when he arrives.

Three knocks exactly, no particular rhythm. You leave the decidedly shamefully rotted takeout in the trash and close the heavy white door before you answer the door. “Hey,” you greet fluidly, welcoming him inside without a second thought.

“Hello,” he replies, stepping past you to escape the chill in your building’s halls, only to be sorely disappointed in your home. “Is your heating out?” he asks pointedly. You note his coat is buttoned, behind the stack of five books he holds in his arms.

You stare blankly for a moment, before you shut and lock the door behind him. “No,” you answer slowly. “I thought it was pretty warm out, so I opened the windows. Are you cold?”

He doesn’t answer verbally, just rolls his eyes. He makes his way to your ratty leather couch. “Anyway, I brought your books.” He sets the the stack of literature in the coffee table as he sits down.

You nod. “Thanks. For driving all the way over, I mean.” You pick up an empty white mug from the end table by your recliner. “Can I get you anything? I can put the kettle on, if you want tea.”

He declines, and watches you pour yourself a fresh cup of coffee. Then, you take your seat in the recliner.

You pull the stack of books across the table, curiously skimming the titles on the spines. Griffin’s Castle, The Dragon Queen, Catcher in the Rye, Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children. An odd group of books, you think. At the top, you open the cover of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.

“Where were you today?” Damian barked from the bottom the tree. You peered down at him from your claimed branch, marking your page with a finger. He looked angry, messenger bag still slung across his torso, glaring up at you with his hands on his hips.

You rolled your eyes and stubbed out a cigarette, flick it away so he doesn’t catch it. “Jesus, you sound like Nick,” you gruffed. “I’ve been here, mostly. What’s it to you?”

He threw you an incredulous look. “You were supposed to cover for me in Lit, remember?”

You heaved a heavy breath. “No, actually, I forgot.” The edge of annoyance to your voice is gone. “Sorry.”

You heard him grumble something about you never listening, as he started climbing up to his branch, next to yours. He situated himself there, and hung his bag on the chopped stub above him. “So, what? You spent your whole day up in this tree?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“What are you reading?” He reached over and pushes your book one way, to read the cover. “The Adventures of Alice in Wonderland?”

You nodded, rough bark of the tree scraping against your scalp and probably knotting your hair. “Yeah, Granny Crockett loaned it to me. She said it’s a crime that I haven’t read it already.”

“Sorry about the dust. They’ve been sitting in a box in my closet for some time.”

You gaze shoots up to meet his. “The dust-? Oh, yeah. It’s fine.” You brush off the thin gray film from the title.

“Alfred sent this, as well,” he adds, pulling a piece of paper from the inner pocket in his jacket. “He thought you’d want it, for whatever reason. Found it when he was dusting, apparently.”

You accept the thin paper and turn it over. It isn’t a piece of paper at all, actually. It’s a photograph, of you, and Damian, and Nick, all dressed up and ready for the Freshman Dance.

You smile down at it, shaking your head at the bright purple, sequin speckled dress your past self wears. “I can’t believe you let me go out in that thing.”

“I did no such thing,” he argues. “I told you the sequins were too much, but you wouldn’t listen. You never did, anyway.”

You laughed. “I’m the one who doesn’t listen? Which one of us took Rebecca Tacks?”

He shook his head. “You encouraged the whole ordeal. I would have much preferred to stay home and beat you at checkers until you flipped the board,” he countered, leaning back against the cracked leather.

“I told you to get a date, not ask out the rudest person you could find!” you defended. “I told you the night would end in tears, now didn’t I?”

“Maybe you were in tears, but I sure wasn’t,” he chuckled.

“Only because you didn’t think the junior class president dumping green punch all over the pageant girl was as funny as I did!”

You left it at that. A long moment stretched on, both of you lost in quiet laughter and memories of screaming teenage girls and a howling student body.

You stare fondly at the photo still pinched between your fingers. You wonder what prom was like. You wonder who he took.

“On second thought,” Damian says suddenly, retaking your attention, “I’d appreciate a cup of tea.”

You blink. You don’t just hear the request, but the ask lying between the lines.

Can I stay awhile?

“Really?”

He nods. “If it isn’t a problem.”

You smile. “Of course it isn’t.”

The corners of his lips tilt. “Do you have any-?”

“Earl Gray,” you say confidently, practically jumping out of your chair, “two scoops of sugar and fresh lemon.”

When you look back at him from across your kitchen island, he’s staring at you like he’s seen a ghost.

You grin teasingly. “Do you know how many times I had to make it for you when we were younger? It’s practically ingrained into my memory.” You turn away to get a mug down from the cabinet. You don’t dare mention the number of times you made an extra cup because the smell reminded you of home that first year you were gone.

While you stand in the kitchen, your back to him, as you wait for the kettle to reheat, he steals the moment to look around your apartment. He hadn’t really gotten the chance last time.

It isn’t a place he ever imagined you to live.

It’s nothing like the place you dreamed about growing up. You always spoke of a big balcony, high ceilings. Big windows, but some that could be left open in the spring and the fall to flood the place with fresh air. You wanted large rooms, an open floor plan, and pictures of friends and family on every wall. You wanted a place that felt like home, with soft furniture and plenty of places for visitors to sit. Somewhere big, but not so big that it felt lonely when no one was there with you. Somewhere to go after a long day where you could relax. Somewhere warm, where your family would come to visit for the holidays, wasn’t so close to home that they’d visit too often.

This is not that place. This place is dark, the wallpaper is peeling in patches, the ceiling is cracked in sport. It smells vaguely of must, beneath the air freshener. Your furniture, while sentimental, is old and warn and falling apart. There’s no room for entertainment, the ceilings are low, the windows are small, the kitchen is dingy. Worst of all, it doesn’t feel like a home.

With a quick glance, yes, the place has a specific feel that he can only attribute to you, but upon further inspection, it tells an entirely different story. It reminds him more of a safehouse than a home. Somewhere Jason would store space weaponry in a neighboring city. He can count the number of personally decorations on one hand. The more he looks around, the deeper dread burrows beneath his skin. Anything sentimental could be cleared out and packed up in less than an hour.

Your words from the cafe echo in his mind. When you said you were thinking about leaving, he didn’t think you meant at the drop of a hat.

Thick glass hitting wood jerks him from his thoughts. Your warm smile is familiar in a way he can’t ignore.

“It’s hot, so give it a minute,“ you warn. “I know my interior design skills aren’t the greatest, but I didn’t think it looked that bad, all things considered,” you try sparking a conversation, but you look a little nervous. You must have caught him staring.

He shakes his head. “It looks fine.” He feels as though he’s about to choke on words he isn’t ready for you to hear, so he looks around in a tempered frenzy for something to divert your attention. A framed picture on the wall between your windows is just what he needs. “Who is that?”

You don’t have to look at the picture to know which one it is. You’d debated on hanging that one. You smile sadly, eyeing it anyway. You swallow thickly, and to stall for a little time, you get up to get it.

You take the flimsy wooden frame down, gently, as if your afraid it will break under your gaze. You hold out the 7x10 photograph to him.

He takes it, gingerly staring it down while you find your seat again. It’s an image of you and a man, standing together in front of a grand fountain. His arm is hooked around your shoulders, both of you grinning happily. Something stirs in his chest- he doesn’t remember the last time he’s seen you smile like that. The man his tall, dark skin, black hair, kind eyes. A tattoo is peeking out beneath the sleeve of a denim jacket.

“His name was Kennedy,” you finally relay. “Kennedy Walter. I always called him Kenny.” You sniffle, and decide to stall a little longer. “I was living in Detroit when we met. I was working as a bouncer at a club. Had a nice little apartment with massive windows on one wall and a loft bedroom on the other. There was this nice little theater down the street from me. They had a theme for every night of the week, and sometimes they’d run these marathons of classics where you could buy one ticket and sit for the whole day.”

You’re rambling, and he knows it. It’s something you used to do when you were upset: talk about the good things before the bad. He glaces at you. Your voice sounds strained. You’re staring at the coffee table, but he knows you aren’t really looking at the wood. “Were you and he . . ?”

“Engaged,” you smile. “We were engaged. But, um, a little over a year ago, I was, uh- I got a call while I was at work.” Your voice breaks, eyes dropping to your lap. You pick up your tea and take a few gulps to relieve he tension of grief. “There had been a car accident.”

He nods morosely, staring down at the man in the image. He must have been something, to have caught your eye. You barely dated through high school. “I’m sure he was a good man.”

You nod. “He was. I had to leave all my furniture when I moved, because of him,” you laugh, and it doesn’t sound forced, but it’s dying. “I had this ugly orange couch, you see. God, it was such an ugly color. It was only thirty dollars at Goodwill, which is why I got it. It didn’t match anything else in the house, literally. But it grew on me, so I never replaced it. It was like that, um- what was it? That stupid stuffed cat I got from Amusement Mile, remember? On Spring Break?”

He nods. You’d enlisted him to help you get it. It was quite possibly the ugliest toy he’d ever seen in his life, but it had a place on your bed for the following two years.

“Yeah, it was like that. He always teased me about it, but after awhile it grew on him too. We named it Fungus, because it grew on people.” You laugh again, a little looser this time. “God that couch was hideous.”

He smiles. It falters though, because he understands now that you weren’t just gone. You weren’t away from Gotham. All this time, you’d been building a new life. You’d been living, not running. But none of it had anything to do with him.

“If you don’t mind,” he starts, quietly, “why did you leave Detroit? You talk about living there as if it were a fairy tale.”

You take another gulp of tea. “Because that’s what it was,” you answer hoarsely. “It was too perfect. And then Kenny was gone. And my apartment was too big for me.” You stare down at your hands, fidgeting with your fingers. “And I missed home.”

His chest feels tight. He doesn’t really know why. Or maybe it’s more than he isn’t willing to admit how much it hurts to see you so pained over this. He swallows it. “Home?”

You nod hesitantly. “Gotham. I grew up here, ya know? You and I owned these streets back in the day,” you chuckle. You steal a look at his face, but he isn’t smiling. “I missed you. I don’t think I ever told you that.”

When you look again, he looks somewhere between stricken and conflicted. His face is pinched as he stared through your picture. “No. You didn’t.”

“Well, I did. I missed you a lot. And your family. And mine. I didn’t want to leave you, Damian. You have to know that.”

His body tenses, and you feel his energy shift. “No, I don’t. You left me in a burning building-”

“I know,” you interrupt quietly. “And I shouldn’t have. I should have kept a better hold of your hand, I should have drove you home, I should have told you everything that night. I should have done a lot of things. But I didn’t, and I’m trying to apologize for them before I lose the chance.”

That stops him. He relaxes into your couch again. “Before what?”

You blink slowly, turning your gaze toward the window across from you, which connects to the fire escape. “There’s a reason I had to leave, Damian. Shit happens.”

His eyes soften. His mind races, realizations dawning. He opens his mouth to reply, but the sharp beeping of his phone cuts him off.

He answers it without moving from the couch. “Hello?”

Your apartment is so quiet that you hear Bruce on the other end. “We have an emergency. We need you home. Now.”

His eyes meet yours. He seems remorseful. “I’m on my way.”

You divert your attention, excusing yourself to the kitchen with your half empty mug. You hear him pocket his phone and the remaining leather of your couch groan as he stands.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “If I could-”

“I know,” you assure. “Probably best anyway,” you brush off, “I'd probably be a blubbering mess of runny mascara and tears if we kept talking about this any longer.” You’re only partly joking.

He looks at you for a few moments. Standing in your ratty apartment, between your living room and your front door, staring. His eyebrows are slouched together as he works his jaw.

You turn around at the sound of approaching footsteps, but you’re just a hair too late. You collide with a broad chest, long, warm arms wrapping around you tightly. You’re overhwelmed by he wonderful smell of leathery cologne and bourbon shampoo. Your brain short circuits and crashes like a 2007 laptop trying to run The Sims.

“I’m glad you’re home,” he says slowly, genuinely, surely.

He’s gone before you can react. By the time you’re ready to hug him back, your front door is already clapping shut.

With your apartment once again left in silence and you to your own devices, you brace yourself against the counter, mind whirling thoughts a million miles a minute and heart hammering so hard that you can hear the blood rushing in your ears.

TAGS: @howcanibreathewithnozaire @avis-writeshq @mello-10 @ukuleleatnight @chikorita-stuff @idkmanicantenglish

#Damian Wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagine #smoke series

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roger-reblogs · 4 years

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Tagged by: @masterfuldoodler

Rules: Answer 21 questions and tag 21 people.

Name: My real name is Ethan.

Nickname: Pretzel, Roger Dear, Ephan, Your Majesty—take your pick.

Gender: Male, He/him, Son of Adam.

Star Sign: I guess it's Libra, but like, I don't care.

Current Time: 10:04 PM, Sunday, 4/26/2020

Song stuck in my head: Nothing atm, but I had the "Nester Was A Donkey" song stuck in my head an hour or so ago... oh no, I think it's coming back...

Last movie I saw: The Desolation of Smaug dir. Peter Jackson (man, guys, wait until I watch a new movie to ask me this question XD)

Last thing I Googled: Autodidact, au·to·di·dact /ˌôdōˈdīdakt/ noun, a self-taught person. :)

Other Blogs: @pretzelsketch, my art blog, that's it.

Do I get asks: No not really, not unless I do an "ask me" thing.

Reasons for your url: story time—get comfy. Once upon a time, me and my family were celebrating the fourth of July, we were doing our own little fireworks at home because we live too far away to go to a real fireworks show and still get to bed at a reasonable time. Now this one year we had a trampoline, (it blew away like, the next month or smth, rip) so all the kids who could sit still sat on the trampoline for a nice view. While we were waiting for the show to start, we all laid down to look at the stars. And then for some strange reason I started calling my sister Martha Dear, but I said it in an exaggerated British accent, like "Mah-thuh Dee-uh", and then "Martha" pointed to a constellation and asked me what we should call it, and I said, "Roger, after me — Rog-uh Dee-uh". And then for the rest of the night we just called each other by these new names. And a legend was born.

This has been Story Time with Roger Dear, thanks for reading.

Following: 141 blogs, and if you're reading this, chances are you're one of them.

Average Sleep: I try to sleep every night, but ya know, what ever works. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (7-8 hours idk)

Lucky Number: I am confused by all numbers.

Currently Wearing: Khaki cargo pants w/ a plaid button-up over a red t-shirt.

Dream Job: I think it might be fun to be a college professor actually,

Dream Trip: I wanna fly in a blimp. It'll be a big blimp, and the gondola will be like a camper van, with a bathroom and a bed and a table and everything. We'll fly over the ocean and the waves and feel the wind in our faces. We'll go everywhere and we'll see everything. We'll go to those places that look like they came right out of a fantasy book, and we'll pretend that we did too. Big cities with bright lights and small houses? We'll give them a visit. World wonders? We'll take all the classic pictures. Exotic animals? You bet. We'll go everywhere.

Favorite Food: I like things involving chicken.

Instruments: I don't play any instruments, but I can sing.

Favorite Song: I don't have one favorite song, but I've been enjoying mxmtoon's new songs, like "No Faker" and "Used To You".

Tags: Twenty people? I Don't know that many people. I'll just mention a couple. @cowboypagoda, @the-varmin, @scribbly-bear, @daylilydoodles, @hero-of-dork, @conquering-the-carnival, @meadow-roses, @granny-griffin @april-musings, @noomissama, @banana-with-a-bow-tie, and idk, I think a bunch of you guys have already been tagged...

#game #tagging #me

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lilacmoon83 · 5 years

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Dreaming Out Loud

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 109: The Summons, Pt. 1

One Day Ago

The tan colored Sedan drove through the backwoods of Maine. The man in the driver's seat was known in his home city of Boston as Detective Landon Griffin, or he was, before he took early retirement due to a botched investigation a few years ago. But something very intriguing had brought him back into the game, unofficially, of course.

He had received an e-mail from an old friend; a reporter by the name of Derek Jefferies. He had distanced himself from Derek over the years, as his friend had his own career missteps, but they maintained casual contact. So when he received a suspicious e-mail that stated if he didn't hear from his friend within three days to suspect foul play, Landon had naturally wondered what trouble his friend had found himself in this time.

He decided to investigate himself first by coming to the longitude and latitude coordinates provided to him by his friend to check things out. He wasn't sure the e-mail alone was enough evidence to get the authorities involved yet, especially since his friend had a history of erratic behavior. He also had no family or ties to any communities, so he needed actual evidence to present a missing person's case. So here he was, literally in the middle of nowhere, and cursing Derek to high heaven. It seemed that his supposed friend had either provided the wrong location or had sent him on a wild goose chase. He sighed and parked the car on the side of the road before getting out and casually looking around.

"Should have known...damn fool always was a bit off," the retired detective cursed, as he got back into the car. Then suddenly, right before his eyes, the trees and woods began to move and recede. He blinked, wondering if he was hallucinating and his mouth dropped ajar, as a town popped up literally out of no where. And if he didn't know any better, he would have thought he was high or drunk. He stumbled out of the car and stared up at a clock tower, which his car was now parked in front of. He scarcely could believe his eyes, as people appeared around him and more fantastically, castles popped up amid the trees in the distance. He turned in circles, examining his new surroundings and truly wondered if he had somehow stumbled into the freaking Twilight Zone. He swallowed thickly and stared at everything that was now before him.

"What the hell is going on?"

~*~

As they appeared back in the shop, Belle and Rumple looked around in confusion.

"Weren't we just on the beach?" she asked.

"Yes…" Rumple replied, as he searched his memories and realized the gap.

"Then how...I don't even remember coming back here," she said.

"Pan…" Rumple growled.

"But we didn't even see him," Belle admonished.

"Oh yes we did...and he wiped our memories, I'm certain of it," Rumple hissed.

"He's...he's that powerful?" Belle asked with trepidation.

"Oh yes...which means if he did that, then there is something he doesn't want us to know," Rumple replied.

"Then we should go back there and confront him," Belle stated.

"No...he'll just wipe our memories again and send us back here. This is his game...he loves to play games," he responded.

"What are we going to do?" she asked.

"We play along with his game. He obviously wants to make some grand entrance and will probably do it tonight at the summons," he replied.

"You can't keep this from the others though," she warned.

"And I'm still waiting for you to tell me how you know so much about Pan," she added. He cursed inwardly. He didn't want anyone to know about his connection to that demon...but telling them would probably take some wind out of Pan's sails so to speak.

"I'll tell you...everyone. Let's convene with them at the hospital," he agreed.

"Oh, Snow texted me and they're home already. Persephone healed her so she'd be able to attend tonight. We can go to the loft," Belle replied. He nodded.

"Why on Earth are they still living at the loft? They have a castle now," he mentioned. She smirked.

"So do you...but we still stayed at the mansion last night. Storybrooke is truly home...for all of us," she reminded. He couldn't refute that.

"Agreed," he relented, as they locked the shop up and began the short trek to the loft.

~*~

Snow stretched sleepily and heard the baby whimper from his bassinet beside their bed. It had only been a couple hours since he had last been up, but she didn't care. Neither of them could get enough of him and even though she told him he didn't have to, David had gotten up with her each time.

"I'll bring him to you, my love," he whispered, as he kissed her cheek and she smiled warmly at him. It was never lost on her how lucky she was to have a man like him. David's face lit up, as he peered down at their newborn, whom they still had to name.

"Come on little man...let's go see Mommy," he cooed, as he carried him over to her and then helped Snow shrug out of her nightgown. She took him in her arms with a giddy smile and put him to her breast. He showed no trouble in latching at the hospital and with Artemis' ability to be there instantly, they felt comfortable in taking him home.

Though they weren't sure how much longer the loft was going to be home. They loved their little loft and would be sad to leave it behind. But they knew they needed more room and Snow's father had insisted they come live in his palace now that it was an option. Snow had one set of very fond memories of growing up there, even if there were times her former step-mother Ravenna and her father's court made it difficult. But no matter what any of them had ever said, she had very fond memories of Eli always being there and with him doting on her. And not in the creepy way that she realized Leopold did. She still had that set of memories, but could no longer look upon them with much fondness. She still recalled fondness for the memories she had of Eva as her mother, but ultimately, growing up with her real mother, real father, and step-father were the memories that were now dominate. She also still had many memories of growing up with Regina as her step-mother and could still think about those fondly, even though she now knew that Regina had secretly loathed her. Still...Regina was clearly changing before their eyes. It was slow, but she was seeing glimpses of the woman she used to be coming through and she hoped with all her heart that she could become that woman again.

Snow gazed down at him, as he nursed and she looked at her husband fondly, who was just as mesmerized by their baby as she was.

"We still need to give him a name," she mentioned.

"I know...I was looking through this name book that Belle gave us earlier. I'm just not sure any of them are right for him," he replied.

"We'll find the one," she assured.

"Are you ready for this? I mean tonight?" he asked curiously. She scoffed.

"I'm not sure how all this is even happening. I mean...all the realms are here now...and just as they are," she replied. He sighed.

"I know...it's a bit hard to wrap my head around too," he said, as he looked around.

"And as much as I know we'll enjoy having a bedroom door again, I'll miss this little place," he added. She smiled.

"Me too...it's where I fell in love and my new husband moved in with me," she said fondly.

"You know, when I was just Mary Margaret," she added. He smiled and kissed her hair.

"I love that you have your memories back, but I'll admit, those seem like such simple times now," he admitted.

"Mmm...I think I'll miss Storybrooke just being Storybrooke," she agreed.

"Snow...if you want to live in Storybrooke, I'm sure your father will understand. I mean, obviously we need to look for a bigger place, but if a castle isn't what you want...then we don't have to go," he said. She nodded.

"I know...I know Daddy would understand, but I actually do. Despite Ravenna and the horrible people in my father's court, I have a set of memories that is very good living there and when we took back the Kingdom, I dreamed of living there with my husband and raising our baby," she replied. He smiled fondly.

"We may not be raising Emma there, but we can raise this little one there," she said. He smiled.

"Then I guess this family is moving, after we get through tonight, that is," he said. She sighed.

"Like things weren't complicated enough before," she replied and he couldn't disagree.

"We have a lot to figure out for sure, but we have a lot of family there to do it with us," he reminded. She smiled and nodded, as he kissed her tenderly again. The baby was asleep again, so after they put him down, they too went back to sleep, hoping for a few more hours before it was time to attend that evening's summons.

~*~

Henry looked around his mother's castle with wonder later that day, as he walked beside her. Emma and Neal followed them and shared a smile at the look on his face. Even Regina smiled back at them, enjoying his mirth as much as they were. Slowly but surely, they were figuring out this co-parent thing and calmer tempers were prevailing over all the hurt and pain there had been. And it was all because one little boy had brought them together.

"So...is this where I'm gonna live now?" Henry asked.

"Well...that's up to you, sweetheart," Regina answered, though there was a catch in her throat. It was her worst fear that he was going to decide that he wouldn't want to live with her anymore.

"What about Mom Emma and Dad?" he asked. They exchanged a glance.

"Uh well...we'll be as close by as you want us, kid," Neal replied.

"They'll be here...if they want to be," Regina responded, as she looked at them and they smiled.

"Yeah...a room in a palace is probably better than Granny's" Neal agreed.

"Yeah and I will probably split my time between here and Mom and Dad's new castle. I'm sure we'll all have rooms there too," Emma said, looking at Regina when she said it. And Regina couldn't be unhappy about that now. As she was slowly letting go of her hate and idea of revenge, she was finding that family was replacing that and filling the void. And though she was loathe to admit it at times, she liked it. Which was about to become very important, as she learned upon stepping into her Throne room and finding Leopold sitting upon it.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Emma asked, the first to voice her disgust at him.

"This is my castle...I am alive, which means I am still King. Alas, it appears that my wife Cora is still deceased and my other ex-wife has no claim to this Throne any longer," Leopold replied.

"That is my Throne...I earned it," Regina hissed.

"No...you murdered me to get it," he corrected.

"So...you're going to play King again? Maybe find another child bride to ruin?" Emma growled.

"I am a King...and without an heir. The one I had really isn't mine, now is she?" he questioned.

"No...and she'll never be anything to you. Even you're smart enough to know that if you come near my mother...you'll get a one way trip straight back to the Underworld," Emma warned.

"Duly noted...now get out of my castle," he snapped, as a few guards closed in on them. Neal pulled Henry back and held his hand up.

"We'll go peacefully…" Neal assured.

"The hell we will…" Regina hissed.

"For now...we will. This isn't the time to discuss any kind of action," Neal insisted, as she glanced at their son and relaxed. They turned and left peacefully, but it was clear that this was far from over.

~*~

Evening came and carriages began to arrive at King Eli's palace. Persephone looked down into the night and then turned back to her husband. She was garbed in an elaborate lavender gown that was sleeveless and a diamond necklace, earrings, and tiara completed her ensemble.

"You look beautiful…" Hades mentioned, as he looked very smart and dashing in his formal black velvet tunic, which had light blue embroidery and black formal pants and boots to complete his dress wear.

"Hmm?" she asked, obviously too nervous to hear his compliment and he gently put his hands on her bare shoulders.

"It's going to be fine," he assured.

"You don't know that. This entire night could be a complete nightmare. We really have no idea what attitudes everyone is walking in here with. And need I remind you that Cronus' ball was not a smashing success at all," she replied. He chuckled.

"Cronus couldn't throw a good party if his life depended upon it. I mean, he didn't even have a chocolate fountain and we do. It's going to make the party," he joked, but she was too worked up to appreciate his usual quips.

"Listen...I have a contingency plan. I am ready at a moment's notice to snap my fingers and get our family out of here if it comes to that. And Hephaestus is now waiting in the wings, at your command, with a completed supply of forged lightning bolts on full display," he reminded. She relaxed slightly at that. Even Frollo would be careful about making any rash moves tonight with her so directly ready to smite him down. Even the Chernabog had limits and her powers were definitely among those limits. She took a deep breath and he put his arm around her waist.

"After tonight, everyone will know why they are now here and how they can move forward. Most will adapt and we will be ready for the troublemakers," he assured.

"I hope you're right, my love," she lamented, as they exited their chambers and readied themselves for this summons to commence.

~*~

David stood by the window in their new chambers in Eli's palace. Their chambers was twice the size of the loft's lower level and there was a large adjoining room that Persephone and Demeter had somehow found time to magical turn into a warm, inviting nursery. He held their son and gazed out from the balcony. It would be the same balcony that they would present their son from to all the Kingdoms. It would have been what they had done with Emma had it been an option. And they were still wrapping their minds around the fact that it actually was an option. They thought they would be introducing their son at a low key event held at Granny's. And to be honest, they would have probably preferred that to this, for they could have never predicted this turn of events. It was surreal looking out at the landscape before him now. From this vantage point, they could see the clock tower. Their palace was probably the closest to Storybrooke, which they liked. Regina's palace was fairly close as well. He looked out toward the Harbor and saw the glimmering Emerald City in the distance, as well as the island of Neverland, which they had been warned about. Castles of all the other Kingdoms now dotted the landscape in their hidden bubble of Maine. They were still waiting on word on whether or not there was a barrier again, but even if there was, they still had a problem with Circe's outsiders in town. In a way, it was amazing, but he knew it opened up a whole new host of dangers as well.

"Well, little man, this may be a very new world, but I promise you're not going to be in alone. I couldn't promise that to your sister...but I'm going to keep that promise to you," he whispered.

"And we'll keep that promise together," he heard Snow say and he turned to find her in a gorgeous, shimmering silver gown. It was sleeveless and she wore elbow length satin silver gloves. The entire ensemble was completed with her tiara.

"Wow…" he uttered. It never ceased to amaze him how she could always take his breath away, no matter what she was wearing. But this particular gown was spectacular.

"It's a bit showy, isn't it?" she asked uncertainly.

"No...you look incredible," he answered, still in awe of her.

"Mom said that in an event like this that elaborate is better and I must say I'll never get tired of seeing you in this," she replied, as she admired his outfit. It was his formal red coat and the same ensemble he had been wearing when he awakened her with true love's kiss. In both realities.

"That's definitely something we'll have to get used to," she mentioned, as she looked out at their new view.

"I know...as incredible as it is, it comes with a lot of unknowns that we don't need," he said wearily, as she cuddled against him and peered down at their tiny son.

"But...like you said, we'll do it together," he added, as he pressed a kiss to her hair, which was back to being short, but not as short as it once was. When the original curse had broken, she had started to grow it out again and it was currently styled in a short bob that was just below her ears. They heard a knock at their door and turned, as Persephone came in.

"It's time," she told them. They nodded and followed her and Hades, as they began the short trek to the winding stairway that would lead them down into the atrium.

"We have a problem...and I haven't been able to find you," Regina said immediately, as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

"We were getting ready and I had to nurse the baby," Snow replied. The former Queen sighed.

"I know and that's why I was looking for you and your husband," Regina said, directing her attention to Persephone.

"What's going on?" the Goddess asked.

"We went to Regina's castle earlier with Henry to show him around and apparently, Leopold has decided that it's his Throne again," Emma replied.

"That makes sense. He is technically alive again," Hades stated, receiving a glare from Regina.

"I didn't say I agree with it. He's not fit for the Throne, but technically, it's his. There's not really rules for coming back from the head since it shouldn't be possible, but here we are," he added.

"He's right...there are no rules for that. He's alive again and can take the Throne. He can choose to keep you as his Queen or absolve your marriage. I'm guessing he'll do the latter," Persephone agreed.

"He can't do that! I married into that Throne and I suffered through being married to him, at least in one reality, and I earned my place on that Throne," Regina growled.

"And technically he did die, at least in one reality. Right there, that invalidates your marriage and knowing his crooked court, they'll choose to go that route so he can remarry some poor child to produce a viable heir," Hades added.

"He's right, but we will sort this out. Perhaps a different Throne is right for you," Persephone proposed.

"A different Throne?" Emma asked.

"In one reality, you were step-mother to my daughter. That technically makes you Queen Mother to her," Persephone replied.

"No...that would be you. You're her real mother," Regina corrected. Persephone nodded.

"I am...but I already have another Throne to rule from," she reminded. Hades smirked.

"The highest Throne, my wife...Goddess of the heavens," Hades boasted.

"Stop," she chided.

"So Leopold is coming here tonight?" Snow asked. Emma nodded.

"Yeah...but don't worry, I think I put the fear in him if he tries anything," she replied.

"Oh he won't be that bold. Slinking like a snake in the grass is more his style. He knows if he were to make a move tonight, he'd be ash like that," Hades said, snapping his fingers for effect.

"He's sneaky...he used to impart his "wisdom" to me all the time, until Persephone's mother finally clued me in on what he was really after. He may come here tonight, but then he will be explicitly banned from my castle," Eli added.

"Seeing you two agree on anything is still uber weird," Emma commented, making Hades chuckle.

"We don't always see eye to eye, but we both love our family and want them protected," he said.

"And for that reason, I can tolerate you, but don't get the idea that I actually like you," Eli retorted.

"Perish the thought," Hades quipped in return.

"Sweetie...are you okay?" Persephone asked her daughter, as she noticed the pensive look on her face. Snow forced a smile.

"I'm fine," she assured, as she held her newborn close.

"Honey...if this is too much too soon, say the word. I know we can handle all of this if you want a quiet evening," Persephone soothed.

"A quiet evening sounds nice, but no, I want to do this. I need to be here. We're ushering in a brand new era with a lot of unknowns and I am going to be here to see it," Snow assured. Eli smiled and put his hands on her shoulders.

"You are my heir, sweet pea, but more importantly, the greatest thing in my life," he said, making Snow start to tear up.

"I know that there is a version of me that you didn't know and that was a very angry man," he began.

"But you were changing, even before all this. And then I got the chance for you to be my Daddy," she said. He smiled.

"And despite the fact that it was a spell that probably shouldn't have happened, I have never been so grateful for it," he replied. Snow smiled at that.

"Me either. There were a lot of great things during that spell," she agreed.

"I just wish that I had been stronger and had the courage I needed to dismiss that horrible court and have my marriage to Ravenna absolved. I'm sorry for the way you were treated," he said.

"Daddy...that's not your fault and you were in a terrible position. You were trying to keep the peace and prevent war. And despite how they treated me, I never doubted how much you love me," Snow assured, as she hugged him and Eli nearly began sobbing at that.

"Do you want to hold your grandson again?" she asked.

"You know I do," he replied, as he cradled him. With that, they began to receive the arriving Kingdoms, just as Rumple and Belle arrived.

"Snow…" Belle said, as they shared a hug.

"You look beautiful," Snow said, admiring her golden dress.

"So do you...I love this color on you," she agreed. Rumple rolled his eyes impatiently.

"Belle…" he said.

"Oh right, we have something to tell all of you," she said.

"What is it?" Persephone asked.

"It's Pan…" Rumple answered.

"You mean dear old dad?" Hades asked.

"Dammit…" Rumple cursed.

"Say what now?!" Neal exclaimed.

"Never mind that for now...I planned to explain all that. But I think I've already run into him," Rumple admonished.

"Well, you're still alive so it couldn't have gone that bad," Hades quipped.

"Except that we don't remember and Rumple thinks he wiped our memories," Belle corrected.

"Which means he's up to something," Rumple added.

"Whatever it is...he'll get a lightning bolt thrown at him if he comes near this family," Persephone assured, as the processional began. Thomas, Ella, and Thomas' father Mitchell were first in, having also regained their Kingdom. Midas, Frederick, and Abigail were next as well. Eric and Ariel arrived, since the Maritime Kingdom was among the realms united. Next, they saw a blonde woman garbed in a pinkish silver gown, with a wand walk down the aisle next. She bowed respectfully.

"I am Glinda...the good witch of the North and ruler of the Emerald City. And this is my apprentice...Dorothy," she introduced.

"Welcome Glinda," Persephone greeted, as the two women moved off to the side and the next guests approached. An older man in golden robes and a tall hat approached, with a man in blue robes flanking him on one side and a person garbed in armor on the other side. They bowed to Persephone.

"I am the Emperor of China. This is my adviser, Chi-Fu, and my most valiant warrior...Mulan," he said, as the warrior removed her helmet.

"Cool...Mulan is real too…" Henry whispered to his father and Neal couldn't help but chuckle. Following them, was an older man in white robes, with a white turban and a young woman, with long dark hair, dressed in a blue cropped top and harem pants.

"I am the Sultan of Agrabah and this is my daughter, Princess Jasmine," he announced.

"This is so cool…" Henry gushed, as Emma and Regina smiled at him. Next, it was David's turn to be surprised, as he saw people that he knew.

"Your Majesties...I am Queen Elsa of Arendelle. This is my sister Princess Anna and my brother-in-law, Kristoff, Prince Consort," the blonde introduced.

"Kristoff…" David said in surprise.

"David…" Kristoff called, also in surprise.

"You know him?" Snow asked.

"Old friend...but I also know her, but obviously not who she really was. Princess Anna," he said slyly. Anna smiled.

"Nice to see you too, just a shepherd, David," she teased, as they moved along, but he was certain they would be able to catch up later.

Next, another couple approached and bowed respectfully.

"Your Majesties, I am King Arthur of Camelot and this is my Queen, Guinevere," he introduced, as Persephone nodded curtly and the man caught Hades' stare boring into him, which made him suddenly very nervous, as they moved off to the side.

Cronus was next, along with Deimos and Phobos.

"Why is he here?" Hades growled.

"At ease, son...Deimos will be on his best behavior this evening," Cronus assured, as he turned his attention to Snow and David.

"Congratulations to you both on the arrival of your tiny Prince," he offered, as they acknowledged his pleasantries.

"If he steps even an inch toward Snow…" Hades warned.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, Your Highness. I would not betray the orders of my Lord Cronus," Deimos quipped, as they dispersed with the others that had arrived. But if Cronus wasn't bad enough already, Leopold waltzed into the castle, followed by Frollo.

"Neither of you are welcome here. Get out," Eli spat.

"I am once again King of my Kingdom and I believe all the heads of state were summoned," Leopold countered, as he made his way to join the other royals.

"And I have taken over as head of my state as well. The Cathedral is mine now," Frollo announced.

"One wrong move, Chernabog and you'll see a test of my full power," Persephone warned. Frollo smirked.

"Do not worry, Your Majesty...I, too, am on my best behavior this evening," he replied, as his eyes rested on Snow.

"Congratulations on your new arrival," he said, as she held the baby close to her chest. They received a few more Kingdoms and soon, everyone was decidedly present.

"Now that everyone is here...I can explain everything and answer all the questions anyone may have," Persephone announced. But, as she prepared to go on, the castle doors slammed open again and there were gasps of surprise. Rumple was expecting Pan...but it wasn't him.

"It can't be…" Eli uttered, as he stared at the person that had interrupted.

"But she's dead…" Snow said.

"Apparently not," Hades replied, as Queen Ravenna strolled into the castle, her beautiful face marred with an evil smirk.

"Sorry I'm late…" she announced, as shock rippled through the entire chamber...

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Charming family #Swanfire #Rumbelle #Regina Mills #Henry Mills #HadesXPersephone #greek mythology meets farytales #romance #family #adventure #AU #dreaming out loud

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onwesterlywinds · 7 years

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Ashelia Riot: I need to charter your fastest ship. To Othard. Blaetlona Isilmynawyn: To Othard? Like, how far into Othard? Ashelia Riot: I'm given to understand that it is all but impossible for ships to reach Othard directly, so I would ask only that you travel as far as Hingashi. But the ship must needs be swift and covert. Ashelia Riot can't recall for a moment if Blaetlona Isilmynawyn is able to read, then she remembers that the woman's primary discipline is that of a scholar; she hands over a thin but sturdy file detailing all that the company currently knows of Vegnagun. Ashelia Riot: Read this. Keep the papers close to your chest. Say nothing aloud of its contents. Blaetlona Isilmynawyn: Okay. Blaetlona Isilmynawyn opens the file to read it, keeping it quite close to her and craning over to hide the text. Blaetlona Isilmynawyn: ...Huh. Strange. Alright, I guess. Ashelia Riot: Strange, I agree. That information is, as you might expect, confidential to the highest degree. But I see no reason to keep any of the details from you, our would-be captain.

Blaetlona Isilmynawyn: This is the first I'm hearing of this. Should be careful. That being said, I can get as many people as you need there. But the Ruby Sea, well. I can't get you across that. Don't know who could. Ashelia Riot: Understood. I'll keep that in mind. Blaetlona Isilmynawyn: There's a political situation there that's dicey. I don't think anyone could cross it right now officially. Blaetlona Isilmynawyn: Officially. Blaetlona Isilmynawyn makes airquotes. Ashelia Riot smiles. Ashelia Riot: I'll pay whatever fees the voyage requires. And an extra sum besides that for speed. I understand it will take at least a moon. But as you have read, lives may well be at stake. Blaetlona Isilmynawyn: We're good. We've been before. The Navigator will have Her say about how fast we get there, but I have faith it'll be fine! Ashelia Riot: You're a Twelvesend, Blaetlona Isilmynawyn. Blaetlona Isilmynawyn beams with delight at Ashelia Riot. Blaetlona Isilmynawyn: I do what's right! Ashelia Riot: ...How many mounts do you expect could be fit aboard said vessel? Including a... very temperamental wild griffin in the care of my husband. Blaetlona Isilmynawyn: ...Mounts? Uh... it's the food. Ashelia Riot curses quietly. Ashelia Riot: ...I'll keep that in mind. Blaetlona Isilmynawyn: I mean, I can get a bigger ship. But it'll be lower in the water, so we'll have to be further out from land, and won't be able to sail as fast. Ashelia Riot: No, no, that's alright. I'm certain arrangements can be made for mounts in the Far East, if necessary. Blaetlona Isilmynawyn: They have REALLY big birds. Not like chocobos. Falcons! Ashelia Riot: Falcons can be ridden? Blaetlona Isilmynawyn: THESE can! Ashelia Riot: I'll take your word for it. Blaetlona Isilmynawyn: The Far East is amazing. We'll have to land in Kugane, though; the rest of Hingashi is closed off to outsiders. Ashelia Riot: Granny's told me some of what to expect there. I'll have to have a word about propriety with the first team. Blaetlona Isilmynawyn nods. Ashelia Riot: I'll be accompanying them over in about a week or so, after I wrap up my current business with the Ala Mhigan Resistance. Blaetlona Isilmynawyn: On another ship? Ashelia Riot: Unless you or Zwynmaga has another spare vessel lying around. Blaetlona Isilmynawyn: The Reconciliation might be able to accommodate you. She's a lot lighter. Ashelia Riot: In that case... Ashelia Riot pulls from her pocket a slip of paper detailing a sum of gil to be delivered to Blaetlona Isilmynawyn. Ashelia Riot: Will that suffice for the present? Blaetlona Isilmynawyn eyes the sum and stares, deep in thought. Blaetlona Isilmynawyn: ...For you? Yeah, that'll be enough. Ashelia Riot looks for a moment like she might kiss Blaetlona Isilmynawyn; instead, she throws her arms around the young woman. Ashelia Riot: Sorry. Blaetlona Isilmynawyn laughs, hugging back. Blaetlona Isilmynawyn: It's fine! Ashelia Riot: I, ah... I have to hurry back to the Reach at once. To let the others know to be ready to sail out within the week. Blaetlona Isilmynawyn: Absolutely. We'll be ready to leave by then! Ashelia Riot hesitates, then stares out across the docks, knowing it'll be the last time for a while that she sees this view. Ashelia Riot: ...You haven't seen Grey recently, have you? Blaetlona Isilmynawyn: Here? Nah. Why? Ashelia Riot: Or at all. Blaetlona Isilmynawyn: Not lately. Something wrong? Ashelia Riot: It's been ages since we’ve spoken, and it'll be even longer once we set sail. I was simply hoping... but I suppose such things happen. Blaetlona Isilmynawyn: Sorry. Want me to look for him? Ashelia Riot: Please don't overtax yourself. But if you could, I'd be even more grateful. Blaetlona Isilmynawyn: Of course! Leave it to me! Ashelia Riot smiles. Ashelia Riot: I'll likely be at the manse or the Reach. If you hear word of him, I'll come home straightaway. Blaetlona Isilmynawyn: Understood! Ashelia Riot winces as her linkpearl - her Garlean one - gives a sharp series of beeps. Ashelia Riot: Right. Duty calls. Again, you have my deepest thanks. Blaetlona Isilmynawyn: Best of luck, Ashe. You all helped me when there was no one else. I'll never forget that. Ashelia Riot: I hope it isn't... too forward of me to say. But I've no doubt that your family would be beyond proud of you. Blaetlona Isilmynawyn: ...Yeah. Most of 'em would, yeah. Ashelia Riot momentarily rests a hand on Blaetlona Isilmynawyn's upper arm, then departs.

#An Easterly View #Blaetlona Isilmynawyn #Ashelia Riot

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distant-rose-archive-blog · 7 years

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By The Hook

Notes: Three fic ideas in the brain mill and what is the first piece of fanfiction that I write in two years - a one-shot. Anyway, I would like to thank @welllpthisishappening for encouraging me to write this and dealing with my nuisance self for the past two days as I banged this out and constantly asked for her opinion. All mistakes are mine because I am trash. Depending on how this one goes, might make a “Little Pirates” drabble series starring Harrison, Westley (Wes) and Elizabeth (Beth) Jones. You can read on AO3 here: [LINK]

Summary: Since the birth of his children, Killian Jones has kept his hook out of sight in order to keep from scaring his children. His fourteen-month daughter doesn’t agree with this policy.

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,000+

“One of these days, we’re going to finally call it a quits and move to the other side of the country where no one can find us,” Emma says, exhaustion filling every word as they limp up the front steps of their home. She staggers slightly as her foot catches on the wood, swaying into Killian.

Killian groans at the unexpected contact but lifts an arm sluggishly around Emma’s shoulders to help his wife find balance. He’s feeling every single one of his years in this moment and nearly every part of him hurts. Bruises are starting to form on his shoulders and torso where the beastie of the week slammed into him. He feels blood trickling down his brow where the griffin’s talons grazed him. He is hoping against hope that he isn’t going to need stitches…again.

Emma gently pats him on the arm in silent thanks and leans slightly forward to open their front door. Both of them groan as they move to push off their shoes. Killian toes his boots into a fine line while Emma is more careless, one of her shoes flying into the air and hitting the wall in the dull thud. Killian is too tired to even care enough to complain. He just wants to lay in his bed with his wife and sleep for week.

Killian hisses when Emma unexpectedly lays a hand back on his bicep. Pain travels hotly up his arm. Emma gives him an apologetic look before stepping away, pivoting towards the kitchen.

“How does rum, an ice pack and Advil sound, sailor?” She asks, giving him a sympathetic look over her shoulder. Killian offers her a grateful smile that comes off as more as a grimace than anything else.

“Sounds like heaven, love,” he replies while limping his way towards the living area couch calling his name. A part of him knows that if he sits down, he’s going to have trouble getting up again but he no longer cares. He just wants to rest his bones and quell the screaming of his abused muscles.

However, he soon discovers his trek to the couch is more perilous than he thought as his foot makes contact with a toy truck left behind by one of his sons. The wretched piece of plastic blares to the life, sirens, lights and all as Killian loses his footing and falls ass first on the floor, pain shooting up his spine. Killian lets out a loud groan as he lays the floor, too exhausted to get up. Instead he kicks the offending toy in retaliation, watching it with only moderate interest as it whizzes across the floor and crashes into the wall, red lights still flashing and siren continuing to wail. Killian has never hated David more for gifting his eldest son with the obnoxious thing.

“Killian, you alright?”

Though Killian can’t see her from his vantage point on the floor, he can hear the concern in her tone and can almost perfectly visualize the worried furrow in her brow. He licks his lips for a moment before answering, measuring his words.

“Swan, remember how you were saying that we should leave and relocate across the country?” He asks, letting his entire body sink against the wood. Now that he’s laid out, he feels no inclination to get up. That would require work.

Emma is silent, obviously waiting for him to continue. Again, he visualizes her in his mind’s eye; this time she’s leaning across the door, watching him warily. Regardless of how many times he’s insisted that he’s a survivor, she never stops worrying about him. He can’t necessarily blame her considering their track record.

“Well,” he starts, drawing out the ‘l’. “Let’s leave the little pirates behind. The three of them are just as likely to kill us as anything else in this town.”

“Har, har,” Emma replies and he can hear her feet shuffling away from the doorway and back into the kitchen. “If you can still make terrible lines like that, then you’re fine. Walk it off, Captain.”

Killian merely chuckles in response, lifting his hand to massage the ache out of his left shoulder. He sighs, wincing slightly as the muscles spasm under his fingers. Tonight had been a rough one as he and Emma had fought to get wild griffins under control and away from the residential areas. When they had received reports about pets going missing, they never imagined that three horse-sized creatures would be the ones causing havoc, but that the same time they should have expected it. Storybrooke never did anything small, regardless of the issue. Killian knows it’s nigh impossible, but he just wants an entire week of mundane living. He wants to finish the mountain of paper on their desks back at the station, have ridiculous amounts of sleepy sex in a bed, eat grilled cheese at Granny’s, FaceTime with Henry, teach Harrison and Wes how to properly tie sailor’s knots and figure out how to make his baby girl go to bed on time.

“Dada?”

The phrase “speak of the Devil, she shall appear” casually flutters through Killian’s mind as he cranes up to look at the tiny toddler, ignoring his protesting ligaments. His only daughter is perched on the fourth stair, peering down at him with curious but almost impossibly large green eyes. She adds flourish to her query by popping her thumb in her mouth and sucking on it, her gaze never leaving his. Killian doesn’t respond immediately, ignoring her temporarily to glance at the old beat up clock sitting on the mantle. It’s nearly midnight and Henry should have put her to bed hours ago.

He looks back his daughter, this time taking in her full appearance. She’s dressed in her bed clothes, atrociously pink items gifted by Snow complete with a bright bow holding back her wild mane of chocolate curls. He can tell just by looking at her that she hasn’t slept a wink since she was supposed to be put down at eight. His daughter loves to roll in her sleep, which often leads to the tidy bows being tarnished and torn from their adorning place upon her crown. The ribbon is far too neat to have been mussed in sleep.

“Miss Elizabeth Alice, you’re supposed to be in bed,” Killian admonishes her softly, careful to keep his tone light but firm. His daughter is at that age where she can throw a tantrum at the drop of a hat and the only thing worse than abused body and a mischievous fourteen-month old toddler is an abused body, an angry toddler plus cranky and awake five and three year olds. Not that his daughter has ever been a particularly even-tempered child. No, his little girl is a pint-sized tempest; colicky from the start. Neither of his boys, both affable and docile as babes, had prepared them for Hurricane Elizabeth.

The child in question doesn’t throw a tantrum upon being addressed however. She responds to the light reprimand with toddler giggles and a wide smile, showing off the small row of baby teeth that had been causing them hell for the past five months.

“Dada,” she repeats again, this time crawling down the stairs and starting to toddle towards him.

Killian tenses, readying his sore body to leap into action if she stumbles and falls, but for the most part watches her almost expertly maneuver the stairwell. He comes to the firm conclusion that Emma and he are going to need to baby-proof the house more than they already have. He has no illusions that Henry made a valiant effort to put her to bed in her crib and she had waited for the perfect moment to climb out of it, a feat both Harrison and Wes hadn’t accomplished until eighteen-months of age. (Emma will never stop taunting him that girls develop faster than boys.) The damn kids keep figuring out how to bypass all the child locks and safety measures they’ve been painstakingly trying to upkeep to no avail. His little pirates are just too clever and stubborn to be contained; a fact that both fills him with pride and frustration. (And regardless of what David says, his kids are little pirates. Harrison hoards and hides his toys like a pro, Wes is enamored with anything shiny and has a pair of sticky hands that drive Emma nuts, and then there’s his little girl who captains them all. Killian might be the Captain of the Jolly Roger, but he’s fully aware that he’s been demoted to First Mate as Captain Black Beth Jones takes control of the household.)

“Dada,” she calls. His title, the one he now holds with the most pride in, is a litany on her little lips. A larger than life smile etches itself across his face as he watches her walk towards him on cute chubby toddler legs. He really should put her to bed, she’s supposed to have at least eleven hours of uninterrupted sleep at her age, but he’s memorized by this little creature who stole his entire heart without his permission before she even drew her first breath. A tremendous feat he has no doubt she will top with countless others as she grows into the large personality he can already see arising her.

“Let’s have a cuddle, Little Beth,” he smiles at her. He outstretches his arms towards her; limbs trembling with effort. He’s beyond tired and really should get off the floor, but this is his little girl. He could be on the verge of death (again) and he would still ask to hold her.

It takes him a moment in his exhaustion to realize he’s still wearing his hook and he freezes almost immediately upon the realization. Killian doesn’t wear his hook around his children, normally donning on a prosthetic to keep from frightening them. He made the mistake of wearing the hook around Harrison when he was a babe and the mere memory of his son’s terrified wailing is still enough to freeze the blood in his veins. He still has nightmares of his children running away from him, horrified of the hook attached to their father’s left arm.

Killian keeps the smile on his face, not wanting to alert his daughter to his internal panic, but lowers his left arm and hides the hook from view by sliding it behind his body. The hook and harness feel far from comfortable against his back but he can deal with the pain as long as Beth isn’t afraid of him. It’s a fairly small price to pay.

Beth, fortunately for Killian, seems to have not noticed his hook and clambers onto her father with the delicate and thoughtful discretion of any toddler. Though he’s five years into being used as a human jungle gym, Killian cannot but flinch as she jostles his injured ribs and plants her hands hard on his bruised collarbones. It’s rather painful, but nothing compared to the numerous times his boys have crushed his balls while carelessly climbing onto his lap. (With all the times that has happened, he’s vaguely surprised they managed to even conceived Beth.) Killian chuckles at the thought and curls an arm around his daughter’s tiny form, pulling her forward a bit so he can bestow a kiss on her brow.

“Dada,” she repeats, tugging on his clothes in an almost impatient manner.

“Aye, hello to you too,” Killian replies, giving her another kiss on the nose. Beth scrunches her face up adorably, her little nose, that looks so much like Emma’s, wrinkles as if offended by his whiskered kiss.

“Dada!”

This time her tone is sharp, almost Emma-like whenever she’s getting annoyed with him. Her little fingers curl into the sleeve of his left arm and tug more insistently. It’s then that Killian’s weary brain figures out that she wants something.

“What do you want, Little Beth?” He asks, his fingers absent-mindedly tracing patterns into her back. She’s a tiny canvas for his digits, but drawing little circles is soothing for him; it reaffirms that this wonderful part of his life is real.

She tugs again on his sleeve and looks at him with a determined expression that almost startles him because it’s the fiercest his toddler has ever looked.

“Dada! Up!” She demands with all the surety that only a small child can deliver and Killian finally realizes that she wants his left arm. She’s seen the hook. Beth wants to see the hook.

“No, little love,” he says gently, shaking his head in emphasis. Harrison’s cries echo in his mind once more. He isn’t sure if he could survive hearing his little girl emitting the same petrified screams and knowing he is the cause of it.

He watches Beth process the implication behind his words in the shifting of her facial expressions. It’s obvious that she understands what he’s saying to her and isn’t happy about it. ‘No’ is one of her favorite words to say, but she’s never happy to hear it from anyone else. Her face scrunches again and this time it’s not adorable. Hurricane Elizabeth is about to make an appearance.

“Alright, alright,” Killian sighs heavily. His exhaustion returns in tenfold as he slowly moves his arm out from underneath him and placing it at his side. Though his body is grateful for the reemergence of his arm, his mind is in panic mode and he can feel the adrenaline starting to pump back into his system, his heartbeat echoing in his ears as he mentally chants “please don’t scream, please don’t scream.”

Beth’s oncoming tantrum dissipates at the sight of movement and she scrambles across his body to look his arm, more importantly the hook. The expression on her face transforms back into the curious gaze that he saw while she had been sitting on the landing of the stairs. Killian’s breath stills as he watches her tiny fingers reach forward to touch the cool steel.

Almost without his conscious knowledge, Killian’s arm lifts to bring the hook closer to her inquiring hand and he wishes more than anything that he had some feeling in his hook as her dainty little digits brush against the metal for the first time. Beth’s mouth breaks into a large grin and the squeal of a pleased child emits from her throat. She’s fearless in her exploration to the point where her hand forms a tiny fist around the curve of his hook. Beth gives a small but hardy tug for a child her size and Killian cannot help the disbelieving laugh that escapes his chest.

“Careful there, Little Beth, don’t go breaking Dada’s hook,” Killian chuckles almost wetly. There’s no words to describe the emotions welling up inside of him at the sight of his fearless girl playing with the most dangerous element of his person like it’s a new toy.

Beth isn’t happy when Killian decides to maneuver himself into a sitting position so he can cradle her in his lap. Part of him isn’t happy either, bumps and bruises throbbing. However, he feels he can better facilitate Beth’s interactions with his hook in a sitting position. Her fingers have nearly grazed the sharp tip more often than he’s comfortable with, and while he’s more than happy that she’s so comfortable with his hook, he fears that cutting herself on it will ruin the wonder of this moment.

“Make sure she doesn’t put that in her mouth,” Emma comments from the doorway, humor lacing each word. “You know how she likes to put everything in there and your hook literally was inside a griffin tonight. I’m pretty sure Whale will throw a fit if we end up back in the emergency room again.”

Killian looks up from Beth to look at his wife, ripped away from the unnamable moment he’s having with his daughter. Emma is leaning back across the doorway that leads to their kitchen, watching them with a small smile and fingers absently tracing the handle of a cutesy ceramic mug in her hands. He can tell by her posture that she’s been watching them for awhile, but he’s been too wrapped up with their daughter to notice.

“I think she likes playing with my hook as much as you do, Swan,” Killian teases his wife, placing another kiss on Beth’s crown while taking his eyes off Emma. His signature smirk forms against Beth’s dark curls.

“Knock it off, tiger, we have company,” Emma responds with a roll of her eyes, gesturing towards the child in his arms with her mug.

“It’s not like she understands what I’m saying.”

Emma ignores the comment in favor of padding forward to crouch next to him. She places her slender hand on top of his larger one on Beth’s back, her thumb caressing his.

“You like playing with Dada’s hook, baby?” Emma’s voice rises a few octaves as she addresses the toddler. The corners of her eyes are crinkling as a radiant smile graces her lips. It sometimes amazes him how she can go from the battle-hardened Savior to Emma Swan-Jones, doting mother of four.

“Hook, Mama, ‘ook!” Beth replies with a delightful squeal, waving his hook around like it’s flag. Killian’s face hurts from smiling so hard at her antics. He doesn’t think his heart can handle the amount of love he has at this moment for his daughter.

Emma isn’t watching their daughter however. She’s watching the expression on his face and she’s laughing. She leans forward to place a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“We are so screwed,” she says as she pulls away, laughing still echoing in her voice.

“Why do you say that, love?”

“Because your face right now. You’re so gone for her and there’s no way you’re ever going to tell her no. She’s got you by the hook…literally,” she replies, before gracing their daughter a quick kiss as well. “You got Dada wrapped around your little finger, Miss Elizabeth.”

“Aye, she does,” Killian replies, not even bothered by it. After all, it’s the truth. There’s nothing that Killian Jones wouldn’t do for his daughter.

#captain swan #captain swan fanfiction #cs fanfic #cs ff #cs fanfiction #cs #cs fic #beth jones #my fic #my shit #little pirates #little pirates fic

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queenangst · 3 years

Note

I know you have a lot of prompts already but: UA student Izuku discovers he has (a version of) AFO (the quirk) and freaks out.

for my 30 min fic challenge / read more: ‘30 min fics’ tag

replicate [read on AO3]

The first thing Izuku made with Momo’s Quirk was a replica of the Golden Age All Might figurine he saved up for and bought himself when he was seven.

That was how he knew it was Momo’s Quirk. No other Quirk could quite have given him the power it did; and he chose the figurine because he remembered each piece of it, each layer of carefully-applied paint, every detail.

Afterwards, Izuku held the figurine in his hands.

He wasn’t sure he could do it. He wasn’t sure he had Creation.

But now Izuku was sure of both.

In his room, lit only by a slit of light where the curtains didn’t meet and so allowed the sun to peer through, Izuku pulled the All Might figurine close to him. It looked real. It looked exactly as he remembered. Yet Izuku knew it wasn't the same.

The old figurine had accidentally been broken when Izuku was fourteen, the same year he’d met the real All Might. Looking at the polished paint and the wide smile, all his strength sapped away. The plastic creaked as his knees gave out from under him, and Izuku gasped.

He hadn’t told All Might yet. He couldn’t, at least not until he was sure; now he was sure, he still couldn’t, because the knowledge of what power Izuku held was the same as his greatest enemy.

Izuku began to get his things.

Not pack—he wasn’t running away, but he was leaving. He shoved his phone in his pocket, checking to make sure it was charged, and his wallet; his set of keys; and his fear.

Then he went to the bathroom, peering into his reflection for a moment. Just to see. His soft face, his freckles; his eyes, the slope of his nose; the curl of his hair, his smile. So much of that was Mom’s. But he also imagined in his mind, the same features overlaid on All for One’s face, and the thought scared him, that it might be true.

“Midoriya,” Aizawa-sensei said when Izuku went to him—he couldn’t see All Might, not now. “You know visits need to be approved in advance. There’s paperwork. The system exists to keep you safe.”

“Please,” Izuku begged. “It’s—a family emergency.”

It was, sort of. Aizawa-sensei studied him for a moment, unreadable. Perhaps he sensed that a family emergency wasn’t the whole truth. Perhaps he sensed there was something broken in Izuku; or not broken, but more. More than should exist in a single person.

“Alright, Midoriya,” Aizawa-sensei said finally, and let him go home.

Mom was there. He hadn’t stopped to think about what would happen if she wasn’t—he’d wait alone at the kitchen table, circling his thoughts, or he’d go tearing through their shared apartment looking for anything that could be considered an answer. When he unlocked the front door and threw the door open with more force than he should have.

He saw Mom, and his resolve almost crumbled. She had a comfortable set of clothes on. Her hair was tied back in a bun. She was so much the person who had raised him that Izuku’s heart stopped and tried to flee.

It can’t be true. It can’t be true!

“Izuku?” she asked, walking forwards when he didn’t move. Izuku hadn’t even taken off his shoes, but he just—couldn’t take any more steps from the doormat. Mom reached him and tugged at his shirt so she could wrap her arms around him. “Izuku, baby, it’s the middle of the week, and you didn’t say you were coming. And they usually have it approved—oh, no, no, do your teachers know you’re here? Did… Izuku? Izuku, what’s wrong?”

He’d started crying at some point. Izuku felt his breathing hitch as he tucked his head forward and shook.

“Mom,” he said.

He’d been angry earlier at the thought. At the secret she must have been keeping from him. At something All for One had said to him, in a moment when All for One could have killed him; and instead he’d tenderly brushed his fingers along Izuku’s temple and said, you look so much like your mother.

And you are exactly like me.

He’d locked that memory away for a long time. It scared him. He didn’t understand it, what All for One wanted. What he meant. Why they hadn’t fought, why All for One had let him go, and why, every time after that encounter, One for All felt different when Izuku used it.

Before, it felt like lightning. Now, it felt like the entire storm.

“When were you going to tell me?” The question burst from him because he couldn’t hold it back any longer.

The doctor, the one who diagnosed him Quirkless. The same doctor who was caught by the heroes as one of All for One’s.

Mom, after Izuku was diagnosed, hadn’t said, you can still be a Quirkless hero. She hadn’t said anything about being Quirkless. She’d only said, crying over him and repeating again and again, I’m sorry.

She pulled back now, even though he felt the same as he had when he was four, and looked into his face.

“Don’t tell me you’re sorry,” he whispered. “Mom. Please don’t. I- I need to know—”

He saw the moment she realized he knew.

So many moments that made no sense in his childhood, so many pieces, the way Mom never talked about family. And how familiar All for One seemed.

“Oh, Izuku…”

“When were you going to tell me your Quirk wasn’t attraction of small objects? Or that I-I- I wasn’t Quirkless ?” He stopped. Fear trickled in, cold water. “Because… I never was, right?”

Mom bit her lip. She didn’t say sorry this time.

“No, Izuku. You weren’t Quirkless. But—” She wiped at her eyes. “I hoped if you never knew you had inherited a version of your grandfather’s Quirk that you would never use it as he does. And… and for some reason, he agreed to let me keep it from you. That was the last time we spoke—the last time I saw him until, well…”

She didn’t seem surprised anymore. Just sad.

“Say it,” Izuku whispered. She looked so much like him. “Say his name. My… my grandfather’s name.”

Mom shook her head.

“I don’t know his name,” she told him softly. “But you call him All for One.”

She caught his hands as he cried, harder, and kissed his forehead. “I know, baby,” Mom whispered. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you. If you have One for All… I didn’t want to hurt you. All for One’s legacy… you always wanted to be a hero so badly. How could I tell you about him?”

“You should have . So I wouldn’t find out like this !” Izuku cried. He thought of Mom’s favorite hairpin, each piece of it, the red crystals forming like beads of blood, and he began to pull it from his arm, thin metal breaking through skin. Mom watched, and took it when he held it out to her. “I took someone’s Quirk. I took- my classmate… Momo. She’s, Mom, I took her Quirk. I didn’t want to, but I just—”

Izuku hadn’t felt right before training, but he pushed the feeling away. When he called One for All in the fight against Momo, it writhed under his skin. It felt different and wrong, and his body so tight he thought he would fall apart if Momo just touched him.

And then she attacked, he’d seen a threat, and a string of light snapped taut between them. Izuku pulled.

“Attraction,” Mom said, with a pained and knowing smile. She tossed the hairpin he’d made in the air and then drew it back towards her before it could go far. “It is the same thing. You feel the connection, and you pull it towards you.”

“I don’t want it.”

Her eyes crinkled. “You are more suited to your Quirk than All for One is, and you’re a far better person than me.” She squeezed his hand. “He would have never said that.”

Izuku touched the hairpin. Thought of the All Might figurine. Perfect replicas, but unoriginal. He had memorized every part of them, thoroughly. He would do the same with his own Quirk, until he could control it finely, to the point where he would never use it again.

But first—

“He said I was exactly like him.”

“You’re nothing like him.” Mom’s smile grew wider. Then she nodded solemnly. “Izuku… I know I’ve made mistakes. But I am sorry.”

She was his mom. She was the person who’d raised him. The person who had lied to him for his entire life, but she had finally told him the truth when he asked.

Izuku thought he might forgive her in time.

But first—

“Can I give it back?”

Mom cupped his hands with hers. “Of course,” she said, and began to teach him how.

Taglist: If you’d like to be added or removed from this taglist (tagged when a new fic is posted), please let me know. If your blog is unmentionable, I cannot tag you.

@happi-tree @soyoudneverguess @granny-griffin @zannish @liarielle @ashemberss @gwogobo @honeyandsonshine @cinammon-cinner @paralumanleadmehome @ship-toast @gabs-2002 @the-reading-obsessed-stitchbear @weird-skittle @sapphire363 @fr0znmang0 @in-honor-of-you @cheese490 @anakinthetrashking @proheromidoriyashouto @lust-nd-love @firefletch @mamamiamia @frankiealexquin @crossroadofinterests @bornindundee @bleusmainpage @fleurie3am15inspo @scheherahzade

#asks #bnha #bnha fanfic #afo #izuku #afo izuku #inko #my fanfic #30 min fics #anonymous

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queenangst · 3 years

Note

How about a oneshot with touch starved midoriya? Maybe neglectful inko? Like the first positive touch he can remember is all might when he was 15, or aizawa or smth

for my 30 min fic challenge / read more: ‘30 min fics’ tag

a hand in the unfamiliar [read on AO3]

The apartment was quiet when Izuku got up, silencing his alarm with a quick tap on his phone. He sat on the edge of his bed for a moment, looking around his room. Early morning light was only just peering in, the sky still blue-grey. He knew it would brighten and change, but by that time Izuku would be long gone.

Mom never got up this early. He peered at the time. 5:43 AM.

He crept out of bed, keeping his slippers off so they wouldn’t make any sound, and then quickly got ready. Izuku hopped from the bathroom, toothbrush still in his mouth, when he heard his phone vibrate.

All Might 5:45 AM Hope you’re ready for training!

Everything in Izuku was suddenly and wonderfully awake. He’d set the alarms, circled the dates on the calendar, but… this was it. They’d already started training two weeks ago.

He still couldn’t believe he saw All Might almost every day.

Yet—Izuku felt like he’d never get used to this floating feeling. Every step down the hall, though cautious, also felt like he was hovering just a little off the floor. He grabbed an energy bar and the water bottle he’d filled last night, looking around the apartment and listening for the lack of sound that meant Mom was still sleeping.

He hadn’t told her about training yet.

Izuku wasn’t quite sure why. He began the jog down to the beach, the cool morning air greeting him. It was just nice to have a secret—though Izuku had kept plenty from her—that was really, genuinely, just for him. A little something that Izuku could keep in his heart and use as a shield for when the bullies or Kacchan got a little too mean, or when the teachers looked over their desks with those gazes that said you’ll never amount to anything.

But—All Might.

All Might was already waiting for him by the time Izuku came over the first slope of sand, grinning.

“Midoriya, my boy,” he said. He smiled. “You look happy.”

“Just excited to work hard!” Izuku cheered. He bowed. “Good morning, All Might.”

All Might chuckled. “Then good morning to you.”

The greeting sent warmth spreading through Izuku. Over the last two weeks he’d kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Actually, a part of him still was.

One day Izuku would show up and the thick morning clouds would close in, and at the top of the slope All Might would stand, arms folded. In those nightmares All Might didn’t look like a hero, just a dark shadowy figure even though his silhouette was still recognizable.

He would say, I made the wrong choice. You can’t be a hero.

So far it hadn’t happened. Every day when Izuku woke up, he hoped it wouldn’t.

“Where do you want to start first?” All Might asked.

Izuku bit his lip and surveyed the beach. His eyes landed on a small section of trash close to them, cluttered with objects of varying sizes.

“Here,” Izuku said, and All Might followed him.

They fell into a familiar rhythm as Izuku began his work. Usually first he worked on the smaller items, sort of like his warm-up, and lugged microwaves and broken fans, bits of litter and broken things up to All Might’s truck. All Might watched carefully.

It made Izuku nervous sometimes, how closely he watched. That was the point of being a mentor, Izuku supposed, and no way was Izuku ever going to tell All Might that it made Izuku a bit uncomfortable. The back of his neck prickled.

Still waiting. Still waiting for All Might to tell Izuku that he wasn’t good enough. Turn around and go back to your shitty excuse of an existence, worthless Deku. That sounded more like something Kacchan might say.

His foot caught on an exposed metal frame of sorts, and Izuku went flying. There was a loud clatter as he dropped the chair he’d been carrying, and Izuku landed in the sand, pain shooting up his arm despite the forgiving surface.

“Midoriya!”

Izuku sat up and spat sand out of his mouth, groaning. Usually training was hard enough that he always showered before heading to school anyway, but this was just gross, and he’d have to put up with being covered in sand for the rest of the session.

All Might crouched next to him. “Are you alright?”

Izuku looked up into a concerned face, and the words died in his throat. He tried to say yes, just a simple little word, but he couldn’t.

“...Midoriya?”

Izuku wiped at his face, though it only made more sand stick. He looked down at his hand, hissing.

The pressure eased.

“I’m-I’m okay, All Might,” he choked out.

When was the last time someone looked at Izuku like that? Not pitying the way strangers did when it got out that Izuku was Quirkless, not concerned in the way that people often thought Izuku couldn’t handle himself just because he couldn’t create explosions from his sweat or pull objects toward himself. Not the kind of help that was condescending, or to make themselves feel better.

All Might just looked like he cared.

“Your arm, is it alright?”

Izuku realized he was holding it. He turned his right arm around, testing, and felt only a bit of pain now that the initial impact was over.

“Um…”

“Here,” All Might said. He leaned in, hair swinging forward in Izuku’s face, and Izuku realized they were close. Before Izuku could react, All Might gently took Izuku’s arm, massive hand cradling his. “Let me see.”

“It’s—” Izuku squeaked.

All Might, muscle form or not, could probably snap Izuku’s arm like it was nothing more than a pencil. He bet the man could eat bullets for breakfast, even. But All Might’s touch was light, gentle, as he turned Izuku’s arm over.

“Might bruise,” All Might said.

“So-sorry,” Izuku said.

All Might startled. Their eyes met before Izuku dropped his gaze.

“Why are you sorry?” He dropped Izuku’s hand but then reached for Izuku’s shoulder, almost covering it. “I’m glad you’re alright. It was just an accident.”

Izuku chewed on the inside of his cheek so he didn’t answer right away.

Just an accident. Those words could mean many different things.

“I- I messed up.”

All Might chuckled. “You tripped, my boy. Nothing to be worried about. You know, I walk into doors all the time. It’s quite embarrassing.”

Izuku stopped being able to think, or to listen to what All Might was saying, because he was suddenly and overwhelmingly aware that All Might’s hand hadn't left his shoulder yet. It was a casual touch, but it felt so nice that Izuku wondered how long they could stay there. If they could.

At the same time, Izuku thought if they stayed there any longer, he might explode. His childhood hero, Izuku’s hero, was here in front of him.

“Ye-yeah,” he mumbled. “Thanks. Um-I-I think I should get back to work.”

All Might smiled and stood up, towering over Izuku. Then he held out a hand, and Izuku stared, dazed.

“Come on, then, you prince of nonsense,” All Might said. “What are you looking at me like that for?”

At home Izuku tended to skirt around Mom when she was too close—not because he was scared she would hurt him, because she would never—but because he was scared if she came too close she would see all his secrets. At school, no one ever touched him kindly—shoving, pushing, punching.

Kindness was a rarity. Kindness was what Izuku had to make himself because no one ever offered it to him.

All Might was offering.

Izuku took it, felt All Might’s firm and steady grasp on his hand as he was pulled to his feet. They held there for a moment, and then All Might ruffled Izuku’s hair.

“Let’s get back to work, then, huh?”

“Yeah,” Izuku said. He bent down and scooped up the stuff he’d dropped. “All… All Might? I’m glad we met.”

Taglist: If you’d like to be added or removed from this taglist (tagged when a new fic is posted), please let me know. If your blog is unmentionable, I cannot tag you.

@happi-tree @soyoudneverguess @granny-griffin @zannish @liarielle @aroandanxious @gwogobo @honeyandsonshine @cinammon-cinner @paralumanleadmehome @ship-tost @gabs-2002 @the-reading-obsessed-stitchbear @weird-skittle @sapphire363 @fr0znmang0 @in-honor-of-you @cheese490 @anakinthetrashking @proheromidoriyashouto @lust-nd-love @firefletch @mamamiamia @frankiealexquin @crossroadofinterests @bornindundee @bleusmainpage @fleurie3am15inspo @scheherahzade

#bnha #bnha fanfic #izuku #dadmight #all might #my fanfic #30 min fics #anonymous

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