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wastelandcth · 3 years

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Better Love - cth

part four: a darker blue

summary: The rain stops.

author’s notes: I've loved writing this story and I hope you have all enjoyed reading it!

warnings: mentions of sexual themes.

masterlist || request || join my taglist!

part one || part two || part three

And I've never loved a darker blue Than the darkness I have known in you, own from you You, whose heart would sing of anarchy You would laugh at meanings, guarantees, so beautifully

Calum was running. His legs carried him through the overgrown forest and over fallen trees. The wind around him bit at his skin, leaving him gasping for air until all he could feel was the burn in his lungs, one that was different than the burn the cigarettes he smoked gave him. Behind him, the footsteps were getting closer and closer, never stumbling like Calum had. In his arms, the beating heart pumped, racing and then slowing in random increments that left Calum's blood running cold. He hadn't remembered the way back to the cottage, the thick forest trapping him in and spitting him out somewhere unknown. The lighthouse had been the only thing high enough above the trees that Calum could see, his legs burning as he ran closer and closer towards it. Somewhere behind the wind, the ocean waves crashed into the coast and shook the world beneath him, making him stumble whenever a particularly large wave hit.

He was alone and running from something he couldn't see.

As Calum ran, the forest disappeared behind him and all that was in front of him was rolling hills of green. The footsteps behind him had stopped and Calum leaned over himself to catch his breath, the cold air burning his throat as he tried to listen for anything or anyone else. Stepping towards the hills, where the ocean roared right below, Calum's eyes watched the lighthouse in awe. The light illuminated the world around him in glimpses, making its round across the landscape to warn ships that would never come of the land. The father Calum got from the edge of the forest, the darker the sky became, leaving him to wait until the spinning light was cast his way in order to take the steps up the rocky hillside.

"Calum?" a voice said behind him, echoing through his body as rocking the Earth much like the dark blue waves beneath him.

Calum turned sharply, his eyes scanning the forest at the bottom of the hill, searching for that voice in the darkness. The whirl of the lighthouse, which got louder and louder with every pass of the light, made Calum dizzy. His head hurt with every pass of the bright light, but he kept searching until his eyes finally landed on her. The wind had whipped her hair across her face, her clothes soaked with mud and leaves that left her shivering at the edge of the forest. Calum wondered if she had been chased her too, how she had managed to outrun something that Calum barely did.

"Maeve?" he called out, his voice lost in the wind and the waves, the sleeves of his sweater ripped to shreds by the trees behind her, "Come on! It's safe in the lighthouse, we have to get there!"

"I-I can't! I have to go back to the cabin!" she sighed, Calum's ears aching at the pain in her voice, "I can't go with you! I have to stay there!"

Calum frowned, watching as Maeve turned back around and ventured deeper into the forest. His body ached, his escape making his legs burn and his joints ache front he cold, but he took another glance at the lighthouse. One last look at the promised safety before he rushed down the hill and headed towards the woods once more, calling out Maeve's name.

Calum woke with a start, his lungs aching for a breath of fresh air as his eyes looked around at the dark room, trying to gain a sense as to where he was. The bed under him was soft, the mattress pillowy and not at all like his hard mattress back home. Next to him, Maeve's soft voice was slow and even Calum's mind too panicked to listen to the words she was whispered. But the softness of her skin against Calum's was what truly made his mind wake up and made his eyes meet hers in the darkness. He was sure he looked like an animal caught in the middle of a dark road, his face illuminated only by the sliver of light coming in through the blinds of the window. But Maeve's voice brought him back down, brought his breathing into a steady rise and fall of his chest until his forehead was leaning against hers.

"Hey, I'm right here," Maeve whispered, one hand cupping the side of his face as the other was placed over his heart, feeling the pounding of it against her palm, "You're okay." Calum's lips found hers in the dark, the soft sigh that left him as their lips connected making him forget for a second all about the lighthouse and the forest.

Maeve was on his lap, their bodies moving in a slow and lazy rhythm before Calum would even remember the dream. He was lost in the way her body curved into him, how her back arched back into the palm that was keeping her steady. The bed was squeaking with every move of their hips, hidden under the groan and soft grunts leaving them both as they melted into one another. With his eyes adjusted to the dark room, Calum could see how Maeve's face twisted in pleasure, her nose scrunched up and her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. Calum was sure his own face looked pretty similar, his grip of Maeve's waist tightening when he felt her clench around him, the waves of pleasure rolling off of her as she got closer and closer. Calum's hand, which had been shaking in fear only a few minutes before moved between their bodies, his thumb running through the hair at her mound before moving lower and finding the bundle of nerves that had made Maeve gasped and whimper the night before.

"Come on, pretty girl," Calum breathed out, his thighs tensing underneath Maeve as he rocked up into her, "Let go for me,"

And Calum had never heard such a pretty noise like the one’s Maeve made.

"Choose life?" Maeve whispered into the darkness, her fingers slotting in between Calum's.

"Mhm," Calum breathed out, his eyes unfocused in the darkness of the walls and the bouncing of their voices, his mind still reeling from the high she'd brought him, "From the movie Trainspotting."

Maeve's shifted, moving onto her side as she rested her head on Calum's chest, her fingers tracing over the words against his skin again and again as she listened to Calum whispered about the movie and how it had changed his outlook on life. She felt the goosebumps under her touch, could feel the blush that ran down from his face to his chest. Her lips had been leaving trails of kisses on his skin, her smile pressing against his skin whenever Calum's voice stuttered from the kisses left on his skin. They'd been lying there for what could have been hours, in Maeve's mind, both enjoying the afterglow of being together in more ways than one.

"I like it," she whispered, placing a soft kiss over the peak of his nipple, "Always question the world, huh?"

"Always." he breathed out, his hands exploring the softness of Maeve's curves.

Maeve had decided that the Scottish air was infused with magic. Every day, she’d try and spend as much time outside as she could. In the beginning, it had been to give Calum some alone time; but after their eventful night and early morning, Maeve has needed the fresh air to clear her mind and stretch out her sore limbs. Her walks in the forest had been a lifesaver in the beginning too, they gave her peace and quiet and a sense of calm that hadn’t been around since the crack of a bridge had forced her to lodge with a stranger. Well, not so much a stranger anymore.

“Or is he?” Maeve thought to herself, a frown on her face as she leaned against a tree to tighten her shoelaces, “All you two do is talk and get to know one another, Maeve, you’re not so naïve to sleep with a stranger!”

In the short time that she knew Calum, she had found a lot of herself in him. She didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing, but that hadn’t mattered last night or this morning when she woke up wrapped in his arms. She knew that Calum had a passion for learning and exploring, much like she did. She knew that Calum had been in a different situation than her, relationship-wise, but that hadn’t meant he was broken. If she was being honest with herself, Calum had been in the exact opposite of her situation. She wondered if he knew that too, if he resented the fact that she could leave someone so easily and not be affected by it or if he sympathized with her. Maeve felt the pain in his voice that night when Calum spoke about his ex-fiancé like she was the stars and the moon before the supernova wiped them out of his universe. She knew that he had loved her and he wanted a life with her, even if he had rushed into things.

She knew Calum just wanted to feel a love that would never be there.

The sun had filtered in through the brightly colored leaves, the kaleidoscope it made on the ground below Maeve leading her back from the depths of the forest to the cabin where the man who had made her see stars just hours ago had been when she left only an hour before. She had wondered for a long period of her life whether she was broken or not. Whether her heart was defective and unable to love since it had seemed like she was never able to love her past partners. But last night with Calum, under the safety of a dark cabin, she had felt her heart race and her mind go numb to anything but the thought of him. Maybe she’d been alone for too long, Calum’s soft touch and grunts in her ear stirred something inside of her, or maybe it meant more.

Maybe Calum had become something more.

"Do you think you'll stay in Scotland longer?" Maeve asked as she walked into the kitchen.

Calum was stood by the small window, watching the sway of the trees, a cup of tea in his hands keeping him warm. He'd been lost in his head again much like he did nowadays, the worry of heading back home to deal with his problems instead of running away pressing against his temple. Maeve’s soft voice had drawn in his attention back into the moment, his body turning towards her, pulled by the softness of her presence and how hours ago that same soft voice had thrown him over the edge. Since he’d watched her walk out of bed, dressed in only the shirt she’d thrown off of him, he hadn’t gotten the image of her out of his head. How the sliver of moonlight had shown him sneak peeks of her body; the shade of red her chest had turned from Calum’s lips, the darkness that the hair on her mound had been. He’d been thinking of her ever since she walked out of the bathroom past him in a dark blue sweater, her boots leading her outside before Calum was once again left in the dark and silence of the cottage.

“My flight leaves in two days,” he said quietly, setting the cup of tea down, “If we’re ever rescued,” he teased.

“I’m sure we will be,” Maeve laughed quietly, “I’ll jump from tree to tree if I have to. There’s no way I’m missing this interview.”

“They’d hire you anyway,” Calum chuckled and shrugged, his eyes meeting hers, “They’d be foolish not to.”

The afternoon sun beamed down on both Maeve and Calum, leaving them warm and energized. The hike, which Calum had forced Maeve out of the cottage for, had taken place on their last day alone. Maeve had brought a blanket, making Calum carry it in his backpack which was also packed with snacks, water, and a camera that Calum had insisted was necessary. They'd walked next to one another, their hands grazing one another every once in a while. Calum's eyes were focused on the trail, knowing that no matter how far they walked, their way back to civilization grew farther and farther away. Eventually, his focus turned from the panic of being alone again and the reminder of his dream to the way Maeve's warm hand wrapped around his. He looked down, where their hands were joined and swinging with every step they took, his heart jumping at how right it all felt. "Is this okay?" Maeve asked quietly, her bottom lip sucked between her teeth.

"Of course," he whispered and nodded, giving her hand a small squeeze as he continued on through their walk.

When the grassy field came into view Calum had unfolded the blanket and set down the backpack, sighing at the relief his back felt when the heavy bag was no longer straining his muscles. The field was surrounded by trees, leaves scattered around them as the sunshine warmed the air. They'd sat in comfortable silence, listening to the songs that the forest would play for them. In the daylight, where the trees, birds, and river could see them, the distance between Maeve and Calum grew until they were nothing more than strangers again. They would drift off into their own minds, stuck in the waves of anxiety and tension that came from sleeping with a stranger. But that afternoon, their last afternoon, things were different. The sunlight brought soft touches and laughter that floated into the leaves above them. Calum's lips were puffy from the soft kisses that Maeve would leave every time she giggled at something he would say.

"I'm going to miss this," Maeve whispered at one point, her eyes focused on passing clouds, "I don't think I've ever felt this carefree before."

"Me too, I didn't think my trip to Scotland would've ever ended up like this," Calum mumbled, his own eyes watching the clouds swim across the sky, "I'm jealous you get to stay here."

"Do you think we'll see each other again?" she asked softly.

"I think the universe trapped us in a cottage together for a reason, no?" Calum asked and chuckled softly, his head lifting up to look over at Maeve.

"It seems that there is no theory for which to explain a moment like this," Maeve whispered and smiled as she watched Calum lean in closer to her, "I'm going to miss you."

Their last morning together, was one they hadn’t even realized would be their last.

In the morning, when the sun hit both Calum and Maeve, the bedroom was quiet. Calum's chest was rising and falling, the soft snores that usually left him hidden by Maeve's shoulder. The wind had no longer whistled against the cottage, the last of the raindrops from the night's storm falling down with a drip, drip, drip. The birds outside were singing, cheering as if they knew the bad weather had passed and the final storm, an encore complete with thunder and lightning, had come and gone. Calum's eyes opened slowly, his hands pulling the warm body next to him closer. His body leaned closer to hers, the warmth between their bare bodies a reminder of the night before where they both held one another as their moans were whispered in between kisses.

Calum had been stroking her skin, lost in the softness of her and the way his heart ached knowing that his life would never be the same as it was in that moment when he heard the familiar accent of Mrs. Bagby. His body tensed, his arms reaching out to pull the curtain back, flooding the room with light and being met with Mrs. Bagby, who was waving from the other end of the broken bridge. Calum's wide eyes and shaky hands had forced him to pull the curtains closed, his body moving on its own as he grabbed his sweatpants and sweater, before rushing out of the cabin. His shoes were covered in mud as he jogged over to the bridge, his breath hitching as he watched the roaring water splash against the rocks below him.

"Mr. Hood! Oh no, this is horrible, are you and the girl okay?!" Mrs. Bagby called out, "When did this happen?!"

"The day I walked out here! We couldn't contact anyone! The power hasn't worked since that storm blew over!" Calum yelled, watching as the older lady’s face turned into confusion.

"Storm? Darling, there hasn't been a storm here since before you arrived," she said with a shake of her head.

Calum frowned, standing at the edge of the broken bridge, his eyes searching the older woman for any hint of a joke. But Calum was met with a worried look that made his blood run cold. He'd clearly remembered the rainstorm, remembered hearing the tumbling of the bridge and how Maeve had gasped from the room next to the kitchen. He remembered walking out that next morning and standing where he was now, trying to figure out how he was meant to spend the night with a stranger who had taken his breath away.

"Calum?" Maeve asked quietly, her voice still laced with sleep as she stood by the door. She was wrapped in a blanket, her hair a curly mess around her head as she looked at Calum confused, "What's going on?"

"I'm going to get help! You two pack your bags!" the older lady called out, the engine of her car rumbling through the forest as she disappeared down the road.

And then they were alone.

Maeve had been quiet, packing clothes and memories of a day she couldn't help but think would be the last remnants of Calum she would have. Calum, who was sat on the couch, had packed his bag and sat in silence wondering whether he was ready to leave the cabin behind. Whether he was ready to leave Maeve and the safety of the dark powerless cabin. The past couple of days had been a whirlwind, they had been tiring and filled with silence. But Calum had loved nothing more than spending time with Maeve and learning about her in those moments when the silence was broken. He'd never met anyone like Maeve before, she was open and willing to tell Calum her story with no hesitation and yet, Calum found himself wanting to know more and more about the woman in the bedroom next to him. But the sound of a car across the river brought him back to reality. Brought him back to the fact that he had to go back to a sunny city where his life had been. A city where every street reminded him of the fact that he was alone and where the only trees he could see were palm trees. He'd be back in a city where his friends tiptoed around him and the way his heart had been broken.

Maeve had been outside, sitting on a stone that had looked more comfortable than Calum assumed actually was, staring up at the sky. The sunlight had illuminated her, leaving her skin a soft golden color that looked breathtaking in the dark sweater she'd slid on after Calum had taken it out of his bag and handed it to her on the car ride back to civilization. The car ride, which had consisted of Mrs. Bagby, or Baird he still didn't quite know, apologizing profusely for all the confusion and for leaving them trapped in the forest. Maeve had been focused on the passing trees and the way the river was no longer a constant noise in her ears. But when the rolling hills of the Highlands came into view, Calum felt the ache in his heart, knowing that their little universe was far away and no longer just theirs. The sweater engulfed Maeve, leaving her protected against the bitter wind that nipped at her skin even through the sunlight. Her bags had been sat at her side, like two piles of rocks ready to float away and leave Calum stranded.

“You’re going to do amazing,” Calum mumbled as he walked over to her, “They’re not even going to know what hit them.”

“Thank you,” Maeve whispered, her head turning up to look up at him, “I hope you have a safe flight back, take lots of pictures of the ocean.”

“And you take lots of pictures of those hills for me?” Calum smiled, the flash of his teeth disappearing as the car that would take him away from the woman, and the country, he’d fallen in love with, “It was nice meeting you, Maeve.”

“It was nice meeting you, Calum,” she nodded, her arms wrapping around his waist as they both hugged, hoping that maybe the world would bring them back together again.

The sky outside of the forest had been a bright blue, the white clouds puffy and soft as they floated towards one another before separating and going their own way. Some clouds would find their way across the world, seeing bright cities and vast oceans. Others would find a patch of weather that filled them with so much water, eventually draining themselves until all they became were a forgotten memory. They would change from the white and puffy clouds above to the dark grey and condensation-filled rain clouds that hid the dark blue sky. It was unfair, Maeve thought to herself, how such an aching moment in her life had been on such a beautiful day. How the man who had unknowingly changed her life in a matter of days had left on such a beautiful and sunny day. Maeve’s eyes focused on the black car, watching as it drove down the same dirt road she’d traveled on a few days before taking a turn and disappearing from view.

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aphrodite-would-be-proud · 3 years

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@ava-sr said: EE i do apologize that this is late, but maybe a small request because of my moblit-brainrot. which dates he would like to take you on? maybe like one of those guided painting classes? aGh all i know is that man is the absolute sweetest and i love him with all my heart

Types of dates with Moblit pt.1

{ Moblit x reader | tw:none | fluff | modern }

{ "Vanitas Still Life" 1662 by Edwaert Collier c. 1640 - after 1707 London or Leiden }

Ideal dates : these are dates he plans up ahead, makes sure they go smoothly and you're both are having fun. He really looks forward to these dates, they're like an event for him. He saves them up for important occasions like your anniversary, valentine's day, birthday.

I. Cuddling for hours at a time

you have to understand that in Moblit's overworked and stressful life, moments of respite are rare and far. He's so deprived of touch and love that it's a miracle how he has managed to function without even a beep. The thought of having someone to warm his bed, cradle his worries and put them to rest by simply combing through his hair, never crossed his mind despite having a hundred thoughts running through it per minute.

Some days he manages to forget your existence even, not out of some selfish desire or to belittle you, but out of disbelief, after all it's too good to be true.

You're too good to be true to him.

Your tender words pull him back each time he blindly steps closer to the edge, a never-ending spiral of self-destructive work tendencies awaiting him at the bottomless abyss. Your warm embrace shutting out the swarm of nagging voices meant to guilt him out of rest, to act as if the key to curing his sleep deprivation was to not acknowledge its existence, that fatigue symptoms could be erased by his own homemade placebo remedies.

As if your mere touch could turn anything to gold, and in his case, it did.

It was what made the difference between an anxiety inducing catastrophic day, and a mere rough stepping stone he could easily manoeuvre around leaving his pace steady and undisturbed.

Reminding that it's okay to fail, to give something your best only for it to crumble to dust. It's a process of trial and error, it takes time and patience.

You don't get to choose how well things end up working out, it's not up to you nor is it your place.

And that's why for him, his ideal place in the world is in your arms, to simply let the rise and fall of your chest lull him into comfortable numbness. His features softening as the oxytocin levels rise, courtesy of your warm embrace, soft skin providing just the right pressure against his own.

Laying on your shared bed together, the soft breeze coming from the open windows moves the thin curtains. Moblit is Holding you close as one of his arms sneak around you, fingertips tracing shapes up and down your back. Face buried in your shoulder as yours rests on top of his head, stray hairs almost tickling your nose when you brush against them.

The passing of time does little to his cotton filled mind, occasionally attempting to pull you even more closer as if it's possible. Legs tangled with yours under the heavy blanket despite him hogging most of it.

Every now and then, when a certain amount of time passes, he'd look at you with half-closed eyes, a lidded look of satisfaction before murmuring in his sleepy voice.

"Do you want to get up?" And despite his sincere words and warm tone, his body makes no move to detach itself from your side.

Does he know the soothing effect of the circles he keeps drawing up your back? Or how much him talking with his lips still pressed against your neck makes you melt just a bit.

Whatever it is, Moblit seems confident in his ability to keep you snuggled against him, tucked underneath the warm blanket and fluffy pillows almost muffling your answer.

II. Visiting a music bar

Preferably something with soft yellowish lights, small enough spaces not meant for dancing but to create an intimate atmosphere akin to a music venue.

A jazz club, maybe a brewery.

Dimmed sunlight seeping through the thin curtained window, shadow traces of people smoking outside while making small talk, cushioned bar stools placed around the long bar with a mirrored wall behind it as several aged bottles and fancy glasses with signatures decorate the wooden shelves.

The quiet chatter of people blurring behind the mellow music the band is playing on the nearby stage, smooth movement with relaxed postures as if they've done this a hundred times before, and they probably have.

You're sitting in one of the booths near the window, a private spot where you're far enough for people not to notice yet close enough to still hear the music flowing.

The beat is slow, hypnotising even that the minutes blur together.

Moblit giving you a smile as he comes back with your drinks, sitting opposite of you before handing you the cold glass, ice cubes clinking against each other as you raise the frosted rim to your lips, sugary sweet filling your senses, the cooling sensation of the drink slides down your throat.

There's a hint of citrus in it.

You've learned to trust Moblit's choice in drinks after being together for so long, he just knows what's going to taste good and which kind of drink you seem to need without having to say a word.

He seems comfortable here, even referring to the bartender by his name like they've been friends for a while, and maybe they have judging by the out-of-script welcoming he gave Moblit.

One conversation starts another and both of you find it so easy to talk to each other without boundaries or second thoughts, the smiles and occasional chuckles almost never leaving your features while nursing on your drinks.

He tells you stories from his work and about his co-workers. You find yourself entranced by his seemingly abusered line of work and the amount of chuckle worthy instances a single work day can offer.

That one time Hange knocked the liquid incense oils that someone Levi brought to freshen the place, well to their luck the oils fell directly on an open flame from the nearby scented candle which resulted in the fire spreading through the liquid alcohol between the broken glass.

And despite the feeling of dread, from seeing his files catch on fire this story brings him, the sound of your chocked laughter as you almost spilled your drink over your clothes, made it all worth it for him.

III. Antique shop

There was something to be said about Moblit's yearning for especially old looking things, trinkets, crumpled maps, tea stained letters and silvered mirrors.

You can't miss the gleam in his eyes as he opens the antique store door open for you the chime of the door bells following after. The smell of burning incense lingering in the air alongside the slow ticking of an old wooden clock.

The look on his face is of pure fascination, his eyes following the trail of the objects lined on the tables, from the old oil paintings with hand carved frames to the crystals reflecting sunlight next to the colourful stones. Observing as he carefully walks behind you through the narrow spaces between the tables and shelves.

Pulling your attention whenever he finds a particular curious thing to show you as if it's an offering, it can range from music boxes with a really familiar melody that you can't quite remember or a beautifully shaped rose quartz stone that feels cool against your palm.

Whatever he brings, it often manages to intrigue you in some way. Moblit could always notice things other people would skip over otherwise, scanning the tables was like a small treasure hunt.

He'd always pick one or two leather journals, almost filled to the brim with ink scribbled pages and tea stained spots, personal diaries dating back to the 90's and if he's lucky they might edge towards the 80'. He likes to read them, live in someone else's shoes even for a split second, puzzle pieces falling in place as he figures out what kind of person the author was.

Of course sharing his discoveries with you while having lunch later, not out of pride nor to show off, but out of genuine respect to other people's lives and their dedication for leaving behind a piece of their soul.

IX. Roadtrip

It's something he plans months ahead in advance, he genuinely wants to make the best out of the few weeks off both of you got to spend together. Making sure to plan a set of destinations, preparing snacks and food, packing your essentials and renting a big enough van.

A small getaway even, to completely leave everything behind and set out on a carefully planned adventure with the one he loves most, you.

Enjoying the fresh weather, the high sun and fast wind as both of you roll down the windows, fields of green and yellow meet you alongside the road the further away you move from the city.

Although be careful; the Moblit behind the wheel is a much much more different than the one you know, he's using all what remains of his self-restraint not to speed down the highway and swirl, the thought crosses his mind every hour or so and he's visibly agitated when you're forced to drive behind a particularly slow driver.

You might even have to remind him of the speed limit occasionally just so you don't end up with a pile of speeding tickets at the end of the trip.

It's like all his usually cautious and calculating demner evaporates into mist the second he touches the steering wheel, Temptations of just flooring it while high on adrenaline still linger in the back of his mind.

Beside that, the trip is a relatively calm one as you get to bask in all the new and different places you'll get to visit. Try new food and walk through different city streets, just the experience of something out of the usual is enough to satisfy Mobilt. Not to mention the fact he gets to experience it with you and just wander around without a purpose or care as long as you're together.

He'll definitely keep in mind what sort of things you seem to like, what intrigues you and the kind of reactions you show. He even started an album filled with mostly your pictures and the things you've seen.

It's most relaxing and filled with low stakes, nothing too fancy but nothing too boring either. Walking the thin line perfectly.

X. Visiting a museum

But not just any museum you see, one centred around natural history. Displaying everything from ancient fossils to full on skeleton displays of a 122 foot titanosaur, depictions of distant relatives of homosapiens and modern evolution trees of the current animals.

Moblit guiding you through the shiny tile floor and between the exhibits while holding your hand, eyes gleaming with passion as he goes on and on about each thing you glance at. Making all the trivial facts seem more fascinating than they have any right to be.

The squeaking sound of footsteps echoing on the too clean floors as four children pass you by, racing each other towards the iron suits of armour on display. They almost fall over the red ropes from leaning too close in, their caregiver seemingly busy talking with a security guard over the 'smoking not allowed' sign.

You spare them a final glance before following Moblit through the corridor leading to the world history & old inventions section. Soon enough he steals your attention again as he begins talking about the first airplane prototype that you can't help but be enamoured by.

Despite there being a sign framed on the wall that sums up the jest of Moblit's lecture, he manages to make it not only less boring but add his own twist and uncommon known facts to it that it feels less of a history trip and of an interesting conversation.

He has so much knowledge that he's so eager not to only share but hear your own opinion and take on it, valuing your view no matter what amount of knowledge you have over the subject.

XI. Painting together

It's an idea that you offhandedly suggested after your museum visit, after all spending an hour in the Impressionism era gallery did leave an impression on you. And so the suggestion of checking out an art store for some acrylics and a couple brushes left your lips on the way home without a second thought.

Well little did you know that the small suggestion managed to latch into Moblit's brain for weeks after, making him spend his free time searching and gaining information on painting and how to start, he even managed to find some really good classes having a limited time course sale

That's how both of you end up in a guided painting class, seated next to each other with aprons on and a pallet to mix paint tubes in. You'll find out how much of a fast learner Moblit is, so much that most of the class he spends guiding your hand through the steps and offering his help whenever possible, although he still remembers not to be overbearing and still gives you space.

Both of you are in your own bubble from the class, being with him makes you feel easy and more reassured. He's like your very own comfort corner that you seek in every party, except that he can walk around with you and always looks out for you.

And whatever you end up putting on that canvas, Moblit will cherish more than any renaissance painting, will even insist on hanging it somewhere in the apartment.

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 4 years

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The Perfect Bad Boy (Pt. 04 of 18)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Word count: 2.9K

Summary: Working as a lifeguard in the Hawkins Community Pool, you try to fit in after moving from New York. Things were going pretty well when you notice you've been under someone's stare. Billy Hargrove, Hawkins' bad boy, has been staring at you since day one. You never intended to have anything to do with him, judging by the reputation he has. But Billy won't leave you alone, determined to show you his feelings are different this time...

As if your heart flooding you with confusing feelings wasn't enough, there are weird, strange animals lurking in the woods... But those have to be just part of the wild live of the woods surrounding Hawkins... Right?

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{Stranger Things Masterlist}

Walls Start Falling

“(Y/N), that was insane,” Monica says as you have your lunch break. “Billy never did that. He never cared enough.”

You're still a mess, a confusing, flustered mess. But you made up your mind. Yesterday's events were madness. But it was just Billy being nice, you concluded. Another reason for you to be thankful and to give friendship a chance. Nothing else. “Yeah, it was nice of him to do that.” You try to keep it cool, your voice steady.

“Weren't you even a little bit... Excited about that?” She lowers her voice, even though there's nobody else around.

“Well...” Lying is not your thing, so you just have to tune it down a bit. “I was surprised. Perplexed and... I don't know. It felt good to have someone stand up for me.” You remember how cute it was when Christopher defended Monica, and see it happening to you a while after did send chills down your spine. But there's no reason for you to believe it was anything else. Billy might think he likes you, but he doesn't know you enough yet. That reminds you of another thing you have to tell Mon. “He... Billy told me something weird yesterday.” Mumbling, you drum your fingers on the table.

“What?”

“That he... That he likes me.” It only takes four words to make Monica stand up abruptly as if bit by a snake.

“Why in the hell didn't you tell me that the moment you set foot in this pool?”

You can't help but giggle. “Because it's not a big deal. You can't just decide you like someone you don't even know.” Shrugging your shoulders, you play with your food.

“Look. Something happened to Billy in senior year.” She starts. “He was in this awful car accident and if it wasn't for his sister and her friends, he'd be dead. After that he... Changed. Not completely, but he stopped treating his sister like shit.” It makes you curious. You haven't seen any scars on Billy, and nobody told you about any kind of accident. Maybe you could ask him about it sometime.

“And what does it has to do with anything?”

“It means that he changed then so he can change now.” It has some physiological background she's not explaining. “Just... You can be a normal girl around me, ok? We're friends, we're supposed to tell each other this kind of things.”

It's not that you don't want to open up, you just don't want to think about Billy all the time. But you guess it's ok. You feel like you can trust Monica, even about things you're a little scared about. “I know. But tell you what exactly?” You ask, taking a sip from your lemonade.

Her lips break into a smile. “Like the fact that you find Billy hot.” You almost choke, clearing your throat as you put the glass down. “You said that yourself. Yesterday when you shoved into David's face that he's envious of Billy because he's way hotter.”

“Billy is... Cute.” That's a good word, you decide. It's kind, it's not a lie, and it sounds casual.

“Have you ever seen him shirtless?”

“Yes. We're both lifeguards on Hawkins Community Pool and it's Summer, so yes.” Mon rolls her eyes at you sarcastic tone, but you just smile at her.

“Ok. But have you stopped to actually look?”

“Monica, I won't stare at the guy.”

“Why not? He stares at you.”

“It's different.” You snap.

“How so?”

You don't know how to answer. You don't even know exactly what's going on with you, or with Billy, or with this whole town. It doesn't matter how hard you think, you can't come up with a satisfactory answer, one that will be enough for your brain to stop forming questions. Monica is restless, and sometimes you catch yourself wishing she won't call. And she doesn't even know that Billy kissed you in the cheek. If you tell her that, you'll never hear the end of it. “I don't–” The door is open suddenly and it makes you shut up immediately. And the person who comes in makes you nervously move in your chair, sitting up straight.

“Were you talking about me?” Billy asks with a smirk.

“No.” You burst out, ready to stand up and head back to your chair. But Monica moves first, giving you such a hard stare that it makes you sit back down.

“Gotta go.” She says, storming out of the cafeteria.

Billy sits where Monica was, looking at you, as usual. “You were talking about me, weren't you?”

“No,” you repeat, cursing yourself for lying. “My lunch break will be over in-” you take a quick look at the clock above the fridge. “-three minutes. So I gotta go too.”

“Tomorrow is our day off. What are you up to?” He says when you reach the door.

You do have somewhere to be, thank God. “Mon invited me for a trail in the woods. With her crew...” You lock eyes with him again, and somehow, even though the distance, you feel the weight. It's not a bad kind of weight... It's different. It's gentle. “Wanna come?” It comes out faster than you can process it, so you look down, not sure if you want him to say yes or no.

“Yeah.”

You know he's smiling, and it has an effect on you. “We'll meet up at Benny's at nine. Don't be late or we'll leave without you.”

“I'll be there.” You listen as you walk away, thankful for the forty-five minutes you'll have on your chair without Billy being around.

•••

The sun is casting a beautiful golden light. It will be another hot day, and the fact that you'll be walking all morning isn't going to help. So you picked a light blue shirt with thin straps, short jeans, and comfortable white sneakers. You're leaning against Monica's car, parked in front of Benny's Burgers, doing a side french braid on your hair as you wait for the guys to get here. There's a fresh, morning wind blowing, and you breathe in the soft smell of coffee coming from Benny's. You didn't tell anyone about inviting Billy, so, if he doesn't show up, you won't have anyone talking about it.

Minutes later, the rest of Monica's crew gets here, five minutes before nine. You feel a little relieved that Billy won't come, actually. You've been trying to understand why the guy is making you so nervous when you're set to pursue nothing but a good friendship. Being confused is tiring. “Well, let's go,” Jason exclaims, and immediately, everyone starts getting in the cars. You're moving to sit on the passenger seat of Monica's car when Christopher calls shotgun. Great.

You're about to get into the back seat when you hear a car approaching, dangerously fast judging by the loud noise, and then it stops. You stand up straight, feeling your stomach burning when you see it's Billy's Camaro. “What the hell,” Mon mutters, giving you a glance.

Ignore her, you tell yourself. “Did you invite him?” Jason asks. “Or is he just crashing the party again?”

“I invited him. Hope it's not a problem.” Jason shakes his head no before getting into the car. But not before giving you a smirk. Well, you invited him, so you have to go and say hi. With your stupid heart beating faster, you walk over his car, offering a small smile when he steps out, standing by the door. “Hey. You're almost late.”

“Almost. Get in.”

“I'm going in Mon's car.” You gesture at where the two cars are parked. You get the feeling that you'll just end up in the same talk as last time, so you give up. “Just because I'm literally your only friend here.” Rolling your eyes, you gesture for the guys to go as you walk around the car to get to the passenger seat.

Billy follows the party until they stop randomly by the road. Everyone starts moving, getting their backpacks to get into the woods. You get yours from Monica's car, putting in on your back.

“Hey,” Billy calls, gesturing for you to get over his car with his index finger.

“What?”

He doesn't say anything as he takes the water bottle and snacks from your bag, putting in on his backpack. You watch, arms crossed, wondering why in the hell he's doing it without even asking if he could. Once your stuff is packed with his, he throws your empty bag on the passenger seat.

“Give me that,” you demand, reaching out your hand. “I'll carry through half of the way and you carry on the other half.” You raise an eyebrow at his smug smile as he hands you the pack. The moment he releases it, the weight pulls your arm down, and you have to push it back up before it hits the ground. “Damn, what do you have in here?” Suddenly you don't wanna carry this thing anymore. You should've just played along.

“Don't worry, princess, I can carry it.”

Shit. That name again.

“Fine.” You give him the bag, moving closer to the others.

“For the sake of our health, we're not going too far today,” Christopher announces, leading the way.

He keeps saying things, but you're not listening. You have never been in the woods, and you're too busy looking around, taking it in. Diane was lucky to have grown up in such a place, so beautifully calm, close to nature, being able to just run a few miles and be among the trees. You easily fall back, walking slightly slower than the party, mesmerized.

“It looks like you're enjoying it,” Billy says, and you notice he's purposely keeping your pace. But what else would he do? You're the only one he talks to in this group.

“It's beautiful. Living so close to the woods... It's just amazing. I can't believe I actually live here.” You're smiling like an idiot now, your eyes moving from the trees up to the blue sky. “What about you? Do you like living here?”

“Not in the beginning, but I got used to it, I guess.”

“I'm from New York, so you get the difference.” Shrugging your shoulders, you see something through the corner of your eye. It's small, and it jumps from a tree to the ground, running away. “A squirrel!” You exclaim, gesturing at a tree on our left. “I saw a squirrel.” Giving one last look at the group, you start moving to where you saw it going to.

“Wait up,” Billy calls since you're trying to walk as fast as you can without tripping on any branches.

You scan the woods, looking for any sign of the small animal, but you don't find anything. There's a slight slope on the way, so you use a fallen tree as a support as you move through it. But a rock moves under your foot, making you slip and fall on your butt. A low whine escapes your mouth when you feel a sting on your calf as you slide down the rest of the slope.

“Hey.” Billy is suddenly before you, you don't even know how he got here so fast. He pulls you up, holding your arms. You're laughing though, and the confused expression on his face doesn't help much. “You ok?”

“Yeah, I'm alright.” You look up, noticing how close Billy is. His blue eyes are like the ocean, beautiful, calming, and peaceful. Not the kind of eyes you'd expect from someone with the reputation he has. Clearing your throat, you step back, dusting off your clothes. “The squirrel won this round, I guess.” You can feel his stare as you look down.

“There's a cut on your calf.” He gets on one knee, taking your left leg by the ankle.

“What are you doing?” You mutter when you almost fall for the sudden loss of balance. You use Billy's shoulder to keep yourself steady. You feel his thumb on your skin, watching as he carefully removes the blood from the wound to take a better look.

“It's just a small cut. You'll survive.” He says as he stands up, those blue, piercing eyes on you again.

That was... Weird. To say the least. You just don't get why it made you so nervous. You really need some time away from Billy to think and think very carefully, to get things figured out. “We should get going or we'll get left behind.”

“As you wish.” He gestures for you to move, and that's what you do. But when you're about to climb up the slope, Billy comes to stay near you, a hand on your side when you use the fallen tree to pull yourself up. You just decided you don't like him touching you. If that's what makes you nervous, you have to avoid it.

But how are you supposed to be friends with someone you can't touch? Friends hug all the time... Damn it, why does it have to be so confusing? You blame Billy for this, even though this is not really his fault. Or is it?

“Hey. Monica told me something about a car accident. In senior year.” You decide to ask, and hopefully get a nice conversation that will keep you from getting nervous.

“Yeah. I was going on a date when... I hit a deer and crashed the car.” By how dark his voice gets, you can tell those aren't pleasant memories.

“Was it bad?” You move to walk closer to him as if it would offer any kind of comfort.

“Very.” He confirms. “If it wasn't for my dipshit sister and her stupid friends I'd be dead.” Despite the mean names, he flashes a small, quick smile. “Things changed from that day on. I couldn't hate her anymore.”

“And why did you hate her before?”

“Everyone says I'm an asshole but I was an even worse asshole before. But that day, it just... Clicked. After years of having me treating her like trash, she still went through a lot of trouble to save my life.” He lowers his voice, barely a whisper now. “And I'm not sure I was worth saving back then.”

It breaks your heart a little, to see how some of his walls just fell to the ground. You wonder if he told this to all the girls he has been with. “And when are you going to introduce me to your sister?” You try lighting up the mood a little, elbowing him.

“Are you inviting yourself to my place?” His smirk is back, but it doesn't bother you. You're actually happy the heaviness in his voice faded away.

“No.”

“You already have a place to be on your next day off.” He's clearly not asking.

“I'm not going to your place, Billy.” Despite being glad the atmosphere changed, you still have to set up some boundaries.

“I'll make Max stay home. I'll even let her invite the kiddos.”

Running a hand through your hair, you start playing with the tip of the braid. “Only if you order pizza.” You give him a quick look, admiring his smile. “But I'm paying this time.”

“No way.”

“Then I'm not going.”

“You're very stubborn.”

“That I am.” Smirking at him, you move to walk backwards, right before him. “I'll stop by your place to meet your savior sister and her savior friends and I'll pay for the pizza. Deal?”

“You should really watch where you're going.” The moment he's done speaking, your back hits a tree. Billy comes closer, standing there, way too close for your taste, looking down at you. It reminds you of when he kissed your cheek, the sudden proximity that made your stomach burn before the feeling his lips on your skin. “Deal.” He whispers, moving away.

Closing your eyes for a couple of seconds, you take the deepest breath you can, thankful that he moved away. He's doing that on purpose, you're so damn sure. Rolling your eyes, you set in motion, now listening to the low chattering of the group.

“Billy. Let me get some water.” You quicken your pace until you reach him, searching through his backpack until you find your bottle. It's still cold, thankfully. “Want some?” You watch as he shakes his head no before you drink. You take a few sips, closing your eyes at the good sensation of the fresh water in such a heat. Suddenly you feel the bottle being pushed up, and the water spills all over your mouth and nose, rolling down your chest. Opening your eyes abruptly, the first thing you see it's Billy's amused smile.

“You're such a-” You move forward, holding the bottle tightly as you throw some water on him. “-idiot!”

He bursts into a laugh as the fight begins. You're struggling to throw what's left of the water on his face as he tries to hold your arms. “You gave me no choice.” He mumbles under his heavy breath.

“Shut up,” you yell, your voice altered by the laughs. You're trying to set free from his grip, but he's stronger. You use your body weight to try and make him move backward, anything that could give you a chance. “Jerk!” As you speak he somehow manages to take the bottle from your hand, throwing the water on you. But you think fast, moving your body closer to his as you push his arm, so the water ends up falling on both of you.

“Hey, kids!” Jason shouts, and your head immediately turns at the source of his voice. You're both frozen now, as you notice the whole group stopped, looking at you. “Let's go!”

Clearing your throat, you struggle not to let your mind process the closeness. How you pushed yourself onto Billy, collapsing on his chest. “Let's go,” you tell him, stepping away. “Jerk,” you repeat, failing to hold back the smile.

@chloe-skywalker

#imagine billy #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #imagine billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy stranger things #stranger things imagine #imagine stranger things

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elusive---ivory · 5 years

Text

The Woman In Velvet pt 8

Aaaa, this took way too long, but here we are

PAIRING: Arthur Fleck x Oc

WARNING: Mentions of abuse, and self harm

Masterlist (masterlist isn't working rn, will try to update it later)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Taglist:

@princessgeekface @memory-mortis @gloomybih @mijachula (if you'd like to be on my Taglist message me or send me an ask 💗)

Sandy sat next to Arthur in the hospital room. His mother laid next to the two of them. Gently comforting Arthur, Sandy rubbed his back. His eyes stayed focused on his mother.

"She'll be fine, sweetheart. I'm gonna go get a coffee. Do you want one?" Sandy got up, kissing Arthur's forehead.

"Yeah," He whispered, gently.

Sandy walked down to the hospital's cafeteria, grabbing two black coffees.

"So in a world where everyone thinks they can do my job. Get a load of this guy, who thinks that if you just keep laughing, people will think you're funny." Murray Franklin spoke through the television screen. Sandy looked over at Arthur, who was holding onto his mother's hand.

Sandy never liked Murray Franklin, it always reminded her of her uncle's cigars. It made her shiver. She knew how much Murray meant to Arthur, even though she didn't care about the guy all that much, she loved seeing Arthur happy.

"You know, haha, I hated school, ha, when I was a kid. I, ha ha, h-hated school. My mother would say 'You should enjoy it, one day you'll have to work for a living.' No, I won't, ma. I'm gonna be a comedian."

Arthur's eyes were glued on the television screen. He turned over to Sandy, and grabbed her hand, pointing at the TV to prove it was him. She smiled, holding his hand.

"Heh, you should've listened to your mother." Murray said, as the audience roared with laughter. "Play another clip, Bobby. I love this guy."

Another clip of Arthur's stand up began to play.

"When I told people I was gonna be a comedian, everyone laughed at me. Well, no one's laughing now."

"You can say that again, pal." Murray commented.

Arthur's joy quickly became anger. He let out of Sandy's hand.

"Now, this is my personal favorite. Some girl runs up on stage, and kisses the guy. Makes me think she's an actress getting paid to do it."

It was Sandy running up onstage, kissing Arthur. There was a bunch of ooos and ahhs from the audience.

Sandy glared at the TV. "What an asshole." She mumbled, under her breath. Sandy looked over at Arthur.

Arthur didn't look at her. He had a strong grimace on his face.

"Are you real?" He asked. He turned around to Sandy. "Or are you just a 'paid actress'?" Arthur spat out the word 'actress.' Arthur's emerald eyes bored into Sandy head.

Sandy smiled gently at Arthur. "Darling, I'm as real as you are now. I'm a real life, breathing human being. I love you, Arthur." Sandy held Arthur's hand close to her chest.

Arthur felt frozen in place as he felt Sandy's heartbeat steady in his palm. He leaned in the crook of her neck, keeping his hand on her chest.

"Let's go, Artie." Sandy smiled, kissing his head.

"Ok." He whispered, softly.

Sandy led Arthur to his apartment. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you in your apartment? I'd be more than happy to." She asked, politely.

"I'll be ok." Arthur jiggled his keys opening his front door. Sandy turned away, walking towards the elevator.

"Hey, Sandy." Arthur called.

Sandy turned around. "Yeah." She called back.

"Could you stay?" Arthur asked, meekly.

She smiled. "Of, course."

Sandy sat comfortably on the couch with Arthur on her lap.

"Fuck Thomas Wayne and Fuck the system." An angry protester shouted on the television. It seemed like Thomas Wayne was all over the news, as well as the riots and the protesters.

Sandy wasn't paying attention. Her hands subconsciously ran through Arthur's hair.

"So, Wayne manor didn't go well?" She asked, slowly falling asleep.

"No, it didn't. Maybe tomorrow." Arthur mumbled against her thighs, watching closely to the television screen.

"Maybe." Sandy repeated. "Tomorrow's that rally. That sure sounds like fun. I never did like Thomas Wayne."

Arthur lifted his head up from her lap. "Why not?"

Sandy shrugged, not answering his question.

She looked up at the TV screen. "My uncle died today." Sandy said, aloud. Her face held no emotion.

Arthur looked up at her. His eyes filled up with remorse. "Oh. That must be hard." Arthur got up to her eye level.

Sandy started laughing hysterically. "Ha, you know what's funny, Art. He can't hurt me anymore. Just like Dennis. Those poor, poor, fucking bastards."

Arthur got off of Sandy's lap. He looked at her in shock. Her laughter was uncharacteristic.

"Why should we feel sorry? Because I'll tell you one thing, Art. I haven't felt a single bit of remorse since those fuckers croaked." Sandy's laughter subsided.

It clicked in Arthur. "Wow." Arthur's laughter was triggered from Sandy's.

"Laugh it up, baby. Life is a comedy. That's why people laugh, because laughter takes your breath away. Much like a kiss." Sandy picked up a cigarette that was lying on the floor.

Arthur continued his laughter. "Y-you're right, Sandy. Ha, ha, ha."

She smirked holding the cigarette in her mouth.

His laughter subsided. He looked up at Sandy with pain in his eyes. "You're just like me. I've never met someone like you. Someone that understands." Arthur looked down at Sandy's arm. He saw the burn in the center of her arm. "What happened there?" He pointed to it.

She lit the cigarette in her mouth and looked at him shrugging.

Arthur held Sandy's arm. "Please don't." He kissed Sandy's burn. "Please, dear."

Arthur's pitiful expression was too much for Sandy. She held him close and broke down crying. "I love you, Arthur."

He smiled returning the favor. "I love you too." He kissed her cheek gently.

Sandy laid on Arthur's chest, feeling his heartbeat. His heart made a soft beat lulling her too sleep.

The sun shined through the window, beaming on Sandy's forehead. Her nose twitched as she opened her eyes to her surroundings. She was laying in bed next to a sleeping Arthur. Sandy smiled at his sleeping figure, leaning over giving him a kiss on his forehead. Arthur's sleepy ocean green eyes slowly opened.

"Good morning." Sandy smiled, kissing his cheek.

"Hmmm." Arthur mumbled, pulling Sandy closer.

"Hey, are you heading to the rally tonight?" She fluffed his hair a little bit, trying to get his attention.

Arthur mumbled something that sounded like a yes.

Sandy smiled. She got off the bed. Arthur made a faint whine.

"What? I have to get my stuff from my apartment." She giggled. "I'm off from work, but I still gotta check my messages. I'll be back."

Arthur lifted his head, tilting it slightly at Sandy. "You promise?"

Sandy kissed his head. "I promise."

She walked out of the bedroom, giving Arthur a small glance.

Sandy walked up to her apartment, using the stairs. The elevator was getting fixed, so she couldn't use that. Once she entered her apartment, Sandy went to her kitchen. The rats had gotten into her fridge and chewed up her paper towels and all her remaining food. She sighed, rubbing her temples. Sandy tapped on the answering machine.

"You have (1) new message." The same monotonous voice said.

"Voicemail 1:

Sandy? Hi! It's your cousin, Deliah. I've sure you've heard about our dad. Destiny has been been living out in the country for a while, but she'll be home in time for the wake. Since, Daddy's funeral isn't until tomorrow, I wanted ask if we could hang. It hasn't been the same since you've moved to the bad part of Gotham. Not to mention with the riots going on, it'd be nice to catch up."

The message ended.

Sandy rolled her eyes. She picked up the phone and dialed some numbers.

"Sandy! Hi Sugar! How are you?" Deliah's Jersey accent called through the phone.

"I've been fine, Dee. How about you?" Sandy said, tired. She had played through the motions in her head.

Dee wasn't a sort of trustworthy person. She had a long history of drug abuse, and was a trust fund baby at it's finest.

"Oh, I've been better. Ya know, I'm heading to this bar, tonight, down by Wayne Hall. You should come." Dee said, excitedly through the phone.

"I don't know, Dee." Sandy sighed.

"Come on, Sandy. I know tensions are high right now, but you should really loosen up. It'll be great for ya. Who knows maybe we can find you a lucky guy?" Dee teased on the phone.

Sandy scoffed. "I think I'm all set."

"Sandy, please. I'm begging. It'll be fun. I promise." Dee whined.

"Ugh. Fine, okay. If you'll excuse me, I have to get going." Sandy groaned, rubbing her temples.

"Great! See ya at 6." Dee hung up the phone.

Sandy gently put the phone back on the kitchen counter. She had cleaned up her kitchen, and decided to head back downstairs again.

Arthur had already gotten up. He cleaned up around his apartment. He heard a familiar knock at the door. Arthur walked over and opened the door.

He smiled widely. "Hey, I was beginning to worry about you." Arthur said, half jokingly.

"Yeah, one of my cousins, Dee, called. She wants me to come with her to some bar." Sandy sighed, frustrated while sitting on the couch.

Arthur's eyebrows furrowed into a frown. "You're not going, are you?"

"I didn't say no." Sandy shrugged.

Arthur looked down, turning his back to Sandy. "Ok." He said, coolly.

She put her hand on his shoulder. "Hey, don't worry, dear. It's near Wayne Hall. It will be lame." Her reassurance wasn't enough.

"Uh-huh." He answered back, sharply.

"Arthur, babe, please don't act like this. I know it's unexpected, but Dee kept pestering me, besides the funeral's tomorrow and I-"

Arthur cut Sandy off with a glare. He walked up to her and hugged her tightly.

"You are mine." He growled through his teeth.

Sandy's eyes widened. "Arthur I-"

Arthur cupped her face, and cut her off again with a kiss. Sandy kissed back, putting her hands around his neck. She back up into a wall. Arthur pulled away.

Sandy smirked. "Do you really think that would convince me not to go?"

Arthur looked down, backing away from Sandy. "Yeah." He smirked back. "Did it work?"

"Almost." Sandy giggled, kissing his forehead.

Arthur frowned, again.

Sandy gently pet Arthur's head. "Hey, I'll be back before the rally. I love you, Art." She kissed his forehead.

Arthur wanted to trust her. He felt happiness around her. He didn't want that happiness to go away.

"I love you too, Sandy. You're my everything." Arthur's eyes dilated.

#joker arthur fleck #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck #arthur fleck x oc #joker movie #joker 2019 #joker x reader #the woman in velvet

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courtorderedcake · 5 years

Text

Hallow : ch XIII - CSSNS 2019

“The Goblin King was prepared to host the Darkness, stealing Fae women away to their corrupted lands underneath the ground as concubines. The Darkness chose another in his stead, but not before this selected vessel enacted a devastating attack in its vengeance, revealing its hatred & rage. The battle was a lesson the old kings had forgotten; never underestimate an opponent.

Many more lives were lost as they razed over any who dared defy The Goblin King’s will. Only the pure love of our rulers united in matrimony, breaking the Vorpal Dagger, sealed the darkness and the Goblin menace away. The light flourished under their fair rule, and the queen bore a child as pure as moon beams, swan feathers, and starlight. They lived happily ever after, and shall be written in history as Heroes for All Time.”

This is the history Princess Emma memorizes from the day she is born, paraded about and presented only with the highest protection. The palace is a cage she wishes to escape, desperately. Not careful what wishes she made, Emma discovers history is written by the victors - The Dark One has an entirely different version of the events that took place.

Read on AO3 here.

Rated E for explicit themes, Mature situations, and Fae fuckery.

Written for @cssns

Ch 8 / ?? - In which a true apology is given

*** ARCHIVE WARNINGS VERY MUCH APPLY FOR THIS CHAPTER. PLEASE READ WITH DISCRETION.

The Darkness was roiling mad, a furious mass of thorns that exploded in his rib cage and up through his spine. It ripped threw his head, his shoulders tightening as it dug in like a macabre torture device of old. He kept trying to explain, trying to make it understand his reasoning, but it only howled like a wolf outside the sheep pen -

YOU HAVE NO REASONING FOR WHAT YOU HAVE DONE, YOU STUPID MAN!

She had to be well in order to fight long enough to survive for Nil; to not just hang herself while the Dagger melted silver down her clavicle.

DO YOU NOT REMEMBER OUR JOINING, OUR PACT? HOW TO ACT WITH FINESSE, TO BREAK SOMEONE WITHOUT EXERTING PRESSURE, OR HOW TO PUSH THEM OVER THE EDGE?

Calling for Alice and asking her to go to Emma's aid was a good thing strategically, and her actually appearing like some sort of fogged looking glass apparition he summoned was a blessing

YOU COULD HAVE FOLLOWED MY SIMPLE PLAN FOR YOU TO PUSH HER WHILE SHE WAS BREAKING!

The voice changed in timbre and tone as it sometimes did, easily digging its points home. Killian could practically see his father, drunk and dismissive, shouting at Liam and beating them both bloody under one of the massive pines. The memory of watching Liam with a broken jaw as he went into his first year in the junior naval recruits was the one it dug its claws into, the Darkness fueling old anger and shame.

YOU SAW HER HIDE FROM YOU, YOU COULD HAVE EASILY WORKED YOUR WAY UNDER HER SKIN AND GOTTEN HER FOLLOWING YOU TO NIL. YOU COULD HAVE EVEN PRESSED FOR THE SHARD, IF SHE WAS TRULY AT HER WIT'S END - INSTEAD YOU TRIP OVER YOUR TONGUE LIKE A BOY! AN IMBECILE!

It pressed him, but he was not weak. He could crush his father ten times over now if the bastard wasn't dead, and no one could get under his skin again. Certainly not some crying woman, especially the daughter of an enemy, and such a valuable card to hold in play if he wanted to be free. Maybe he had told Alice too much about his worries over Emma, while Robyn watched with bewildered dismay. Maybe he blurted how she was acting, and they thought that he was showing weakness or worry. Imagined of course, there was nothing -

SHE BEWITCHES YOU INTO SYMPATHETIC STUPOR, SHE FILLS YOU WITH IDEAS OF REDEMPTION YOU DO NOT DESERVE, YOU ARE SO CLOSE TO YOUR REVENGE, OUR REVENGE, AND YOU FAIL ME. I MUST PUNISH YOU, I MUST HURT YOU.

He braced himself; the pain of broken bones as he folded into himself was enough to make him wish for true death.

I WISH YOU WERE DEAD, FREEING MYSELF FROM YOUR INEPTITUDE WOULD BE A BLESSING WELL MET WITH YOUR DEATH.

They both knew it was fruitless, the idea impossible while the dagger was still broken. He would survive the pain, and the Darkness would greet him in its vengeance without fail. With eyes closed tightly, he braced himself for what was to come.

Instead of pain, though, it cackled, and Killian felt more fear than before.

Oh yes, feel that fear, Dearie. No more physical pain for today. You mentioned strategy - I have a strategic plan for you, regarding a fitting punishment; the sort worthy of this sort of betrayal. You've been misbehaving without consequences too long now, your leash forgotten. Do you remember when you failed to stop Snow Margueryte and her Charming? Do you remember how I tormented you for your failure?

Killian shook his head in horror. Not that.

Oh yes, that. It's time for your nightmare. I'll provide you mercy and heal you first… Be patient, for when I'm done we'll begin my favorite game with you. We haven't played in such a long time…

His bones began to knit back together, cracking into place noisily and sloppily. Emma's voice suddenly echoed into his chamber, breaking through the Darkness' cackling.

"Dark One!" She was blazing with rage and light magic, Killian barely able to stand upright at her advance. The Darkness felt licks of her fury strike, its yowls of pain as it hid itself away a bitter requiem of relief.

Killian gritted his teeth as he adjusted his frame to lean against the wall, his body still healing slowly even as the Darkness exited. "Princess?" he rasped.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" she shrieked; he thought she might move to strike him, to hear the venom with which she spat the question out. "You went through Ariel? Through Alice and Robyn? Through Eric and Marta? Did you think that I would not find out immediately or that they would not tell me of your attempt at deceit? What information did you hope you could squeeze from them while I was dealing with the consequences of my failures? You already know all of them, what could you possibly use against me now?"

He winced, and not all from pain. A vague guilt that had a name - remorse perhaps?

“That wasn't the reason, I didn't - I wanted to -"

"I don't want anything to do with you. How many times do I have to -" Emma's magic hit him again, his corroded mind practically melting as her magic burnt the Darkness where it attempted to remain stuck to his bones. His knees wobbled.

"Emma, I just need you to know -"

Emma interrupted as he tried to take a breath, sweat beading on his forehead. "No. No, you don't need me to, you want me to. Big difference, buddy, and I have a choice in whether or not I listen. I don't want to listen."

His voice sounded small to his own ears. "I just want to know that you're okay."

Emma laughed, her eyes wild and teeth bared. "You know that I'm okay, that I am just dealing with a war, deaths, betrayals, figuring out who to trust and who isn't a monster. You've known I was alright since I left you, since I didn't come back - it's you who isn't alright. You’re scared. I don't blame you for it either; I can't imagine how it must feel to be unable to make your own choices, but I am not and cannot be your crutch. Find someone else."

Nodding, he scrubbed his face, and then carded his hand through his hair. "I thought - Never mind. Please just - You'll have to take care of yourself to survive. Keep yourself safe, and the shard; talk to Ursula and Ariel, alright? I was - I thought they might be concerned for you, and I am sorry for bothering them. And you. That's all. Nothing else."

Marta poked her head in, clearing her throat. "Uh, Killian. Ursula has a ship ready for you, and she's requested that you leave immediately. I've offered to go with you part of the way to make sure you don't do anything else untoward."

Emma snorted, spitefully. "Thanks Marta. Sorry you got the short straw."

Marta sighed. "Princess, do you need me to -"

"I'm fine," Emma snapped. "Just about done here." Marta gave a nod, taking her leave.

"I'm going to leave then," Killian said.

"Good. If we never meet again it will be too soon."

"If it means anything, I'm glad you are safe. I'm glad the shard is safe. I am glad you are with people who can help you, and who are… good at protecting you. I don't - you don't have to worry if they are trustworthy, and they won't fail you. Goodbye, Princess."

"Farewell, Dark One."

He walked in a daze to the place where his ship waited, uncaring and unaware of the Selkies booing him, the food and trash thrown at him, of Ursula, Eric, Ariel, Alice, and Robyn watching his trek out of the caves with Emma. He stared, Eric and Ariel openly glaring, Robyn giving him the same squinted look of confusion that she had previously, and Alice too busy talking to Emma.

To distract her from him. A dull heaviness pushed down on his shoulders, weight settling in his stomach.

Marta was already waiting for him on the ship, a look of pity for him on her face. "Ready?" she inquired softly. He nodded, and they drew anchor. The ship moved through the calm water, everything quiet as they departed, including the voices that made up the Darkness.

The portal out was a one way exit, the ship's wheel in his hands a steadying comfort. They caught the breeze, leaving the tranquility of the underwater oasis and sailing off the proverbial edge of Ursula's world to land in stormy waters.

He had to blink a few times as a bright green bolt of blinding lightning cracked in the heavens. The storm was massive, and he followed its course along the horizon, seeing an armada skirting a hurricane before it hit something unseen, the clouds breaking apart. Killian ran to the stern, Marta joining him with a hand over her mouth.

Ursula's caves flickered into view, appearing like a great bubble from the sea floor by some otherworldly force. As the caves crested the surface, the protective forces that had been shielding the caves broke with a resounding force, the huge crash as they struck the surface to sink again sending a shockwave through the water. Their ship pitched back and forth as they held steady to her moorings; the water had become a roiling mess of waves from the magic radiating off of the fleet in the distance. Green lightning struck the water all around it, and even from their distance Killian could see floating carcasses and the mass of birds seeking carrion, the water a sickly olive color. The storm began again, and Killian brought the spyglass in his pocket to his eye to examine the strangest fleet of mismatched ships Killian had ever seen, and tethered at its front was the cause of this destruction - King of the Merfolk, the previous King of the Sea: Ursula's brother, Triton.

Shuddering in disbelief of the King's fate, even if deserved, Killian tried to map and count the plan of attack from their positions. Frigates, sloops, and even a few galleons were interspersed with metal rusting boats in styles Killian had never seen. The largest was something Elsa had called a barge, and it led the ships as the storm beat around them, the towering man with a large, dirty, grey beard at the lead. Focusing with a twist, he surveyed Triton further. The partial God was bruised and emaciated, held by a golden collar around his neck that linked to the barge with its towering blocks of rectangular metal boxes. Following the chain from the man’s collar to a raised dais that lay on a deck, Neal lounged nearby in a windowed observation level, looking bemused. Triton was under the control of the prince, his powers controlled by Nil's desire to possess Emma.

But they would never, never get through to Ursula -

Triton waved a large trident around, and the storm sparked with green and purple electricity. Ursula's secret realm lurched into view again as he spun the weapon with skill, before it sunk below in another huge crash. Their ship creaked ominously as the waves sent them flying. Triton bellowed loudly, making Marta whimper next to Killian.

"We have to go back," Marta whispered, watching Killian close the spyglass.

"Go back? For what, the pleasure of being ripped apart by Goblins and a demi-god? She doesn't want me there, what good -"

Marta slapped him hard, changing from a highborn prim matron to the visage of a livid sorceress.

"Stop thinking about yourself for one damned minute, you narcissistic clam! Even if that is the Darkness in you, recognize that this is bigger than you or your princess - my friend and my people are about to be slaughtered. I know what you did. I know how you exploded over that fleet like some sort of comet, and how you screamed the entire time begging for forgiveness. I was there in the water, before and after. I watched you kill those men, I saw them die; it took days to get the blood out of my pelt. Are you really going to let that happen again? Even if they aren't your people?"

Remembering the Darkness and its threat of reliving his worst nightmares, Killian paused. A spark lit his chest into a blaze.

"If you wanted to die so badly, you could not have chosen a more reckless bastard willing to assist." He turned the ship, heading straight towards Triton and the Goblin fleet.

What are you doing?!

Killian felt the Darkness wake again, still weakened. Reading his thoughts, it quieted at the promise of a battle, the idea of any sort of confrontation too delicious to push back against. It acquiesced to his intended course, lending strength that made Killian grin ferally.

They had just passed where the portal had spit them out when he heard the noise of another ship close by, only slightly behind. It caught up with them in an instant, and he had to blink; the silhouette was so familiar, the way it glided through the water as if it flew, almost like the Jewel but not quite -

The thought was obliterated as Emma came into view on the deck, her hair whipping around her scowling face.

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"Get her out of here. This place is about to be a war zone if they manage to pit Ursula against Triton," Marta yelled at Emma's vessel, pointing to where Triton moved the water in huge eddies, the sea opening up and closing.

Ariel yelled back, obviously frustrated and pointing at Emma. "We told her that, she -"

"This is what Emma wants to do! We need to help Ursula, and we need to help your father, so why are you so oblivious you twit?" Alice marched toward Ariel, pointing, no longer soft spoken.

"Of course I want to save my father, but how the hell is she going to help when she isn't even in her right mind!" Ariel spat, before regret played across her features. "Emma, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that in the way -"

Alice and Robin cut off Ariel, though their words were lost to a forceful gust of wind. Alice looked livid, gesturing at Ariel to the point that Eric had stepped in and tried to separate them. Emma looked frozen in place, opening her mouth to say something, but thought better of it and retreated. Killian caught her eye, but she just looked through him, and instead jumped when thunder boomed over their heads.

Wind ripped at their own sails, Marta running to the front of the ship as Killian raced toward the back, glancing over to see Emma's sleeker vessel roll in the waves. The storm itself seemed concentrated around them suddenly, growing in ferocity. Massive waves, fueled by Triton’s powers, drew up shipwrecks that crashed into their vessels, jostling the princess and sending Eric to the wheel to frantically steer. Ariel was red with rage, screaming at Alice and Eric, while Emma tried to get their attention.

Killian yelled at them to stop, but they only pointed their shouts at him, rain now pouring down on them like the sky had opened.

Emma let out a scream of frustration, and Killian could see it before it happened, moving with a rope in his hand as he threw back the last of the vial in his pocket, jumping into the water only moments after Emma lost her balance and flew over the side.

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"Stop fighting, it's making the storm - " Emma shouted, but it was drowned out over the roar of waves, the downpour, and the brawl. A wave tore at her, and she was thrown roughly to the deck, her hand catching a rope for support. The wind whipped the rigging skyward, her cuff falling away as she flew off the planks and into the ocean.

The water hit her full on, taking her breath away. She scrambled for the cuff, realizing too late it was lost in the sea. The dark water was freezing, crushing her in the indeterminate up and down. In a panicked moment she tried to summon the cuff, and when her magic simply sputtered, she tried to conjure air. No bubbles formed around her, her magic strained or weakened by Nil's influence on the sea. Fighting against the current left the air in her lungs burning, but she could not give in. A life of no more sky was how all of her nightmares seemed to end: here in the silence of drowning, in a life with Nil, or surrounded by darkness that was too alive. What would her mother say? Her father? With their fiercest faces on, speaking of honor and hard won peace -

"We never give up in this family, Emma. We always find another. Good always wins."

Now she wanted desperately to ask at what cost? At what cost did good win, when this was good? Good should not be having to struggle, banished from a realm for no more reason than hatred, locked away forever or until you could be of use, punishments that were cruel and unusual - that wasn't good winning.

That cost didn't need to be paid when there were so many other paths available. If only they had sought wisdom, if they had reached out and tried to see what might be good for all… Emma wished that she could have helped them do better, that maybe if she wasn't drowning, if they weren't imprisoned, if the weight of what they built hadn't come crashing down, they all could have changed things.

Her eyes blurred and bright spots burst in her vision. Blackness closed in, her magic dampened, embracing the beginning of the end, until a hand grabbed her own. It pulled hard, tearing through the water. A blue light came from somewhere in the dark, but when she reached for it Emma felt her legs touch a tail, hand tingling from shock. There was no way it was him; Ariel was right that she had lost her mind, this was just some strange vision before she would wake in her bed. Arms wrapped tightly around her, pulling her upwards, trying to beat the water that leaked into her mouth and nose, and there were his eyes, like he actually -

Landing on hard wood with a thud, she could dimly hear voices of concern, but mostly she could see a soaking wet Killian looking down at her in fear. Emma coughed, choking on water as he watched her, breathing in harshly himself and falling back to his elbows. Too weak to move away from him and much weaker still to try to ask why, she stared at him in angry confusion.

"You really need to stop drowning around me," he said in explanation, wiping wet hair away from his face, as if it meant nothing. "It's a terrible way to go, and I have made it abundantly clear that I will not let you."

Emma couldn't help the laughter that bubbled out of her at the absolute absurdity of everything, the hurt in her chest from the lack of oxygen, and how much hatred she wanted to feel even though she could not summon it.

"I'll try and keep that in mind. Thank you," Emma whispered with as much annoyance as she could muster. Killian cracked a cheeky grin, and Emma felt the urge to punch him rise.

"Emma, I'm so sorry. We realized that you were gone after he was jumping off the other side after you - " Alice rapidly began, before crushing Emma in a hug. The rest of her friends gathered, the storm calming around them on both ships.

There was a loud splintering crack as more of Ursula's realm was pulled from hiding. Goblins threw ropes at the caves, climbing like spiders into the network of tunnels as Selkies launched their own bare defenses until they were dragged out in nets.

A massive tentacle broke from the water, smacking hard against Triton as Ursula pushed free into the onslaught. Ariel gasped, and Marta began frantically pacing the deck.

"What do we do?" Marta asked. Everyone turned towards Killian, who looked at his feet.

"Don't look at me," he snapped, pointing to Emma. "The princess here does a far better job at improvisation methods. Ask her, she's your leader."

Emma blinked, staring at Killian with a suspicious glare. She thought for a moment, pushing past everything that had happened, her fears evaporating as she moved into planning.

"We help Ursula, and we help the Selkies. Eric will pilot to Ursula, while some of us take the other ship and destroy what we can of Nil’s armada." She spoke calmly, delegating tasks quickly and methodically cycling through what they would need. "Ursula needs more time to try and get her denizens all out, so we need to make any sort of distraction we can. We can draw them away or at least split their forces if he knows I'm here."

"That is a terrible - " Ariel began, but Emma stopped her with a harsh tone.

"If you have nothing better to offer, Ariel, I don't want to hear it."

Ariel managed to look shocked, before swallowing with a nod. "Let's free my father."

They split as a group, Emma giving Marta a solemn nod when they turned away to head towards Nil, Eric steering their ship straight into the formation. Killian forced his way between two ships in the rear, blending in easily, using their mix of styles to his advantage. It wasn't until the the first ship lay silent and burning that any attack looked like it was taking place. At least he could do this; maybe they could do this and for once take a victory.

Marta steered hard into a barely held together wooden sloop. Alice and Robyn wreaked chaos with strange smoke bombs detonated by arrows while Killian lit sails on fire, the Goblins seemingly not understanding why liberally leaving petrol around could be a problem. The armada's wooden ships burned hot in the water, making the storm even eerier, green lightning mixed with the bright reds of the flames creating barriers for any course direction. It was clear that the Goblins were not familiar with any Naval strategy, and Emma felt a small surge of hope. Eric had a steady hand as he watched Ariel create portals, shutting them around longer vessels when they were halfway through with screeching crunches.

The Goblin fleet took notice, but Nil made no move for Emma as their ship took fire. Eric and Ariel disappeared onto a steel boat with a claw like contraption while Emma tried to magic herself onto another ship’s deck without success. Her hands trembled, sparks finally lighting and sending her sprawling on a shiny silver floor surrounded by huge containers stacked on each other. A Goblin stared at her in confusion before she lunged, plunging her sword into its chest out of instinct. The Goblin fell with a thud, and Emma began to run. These ships were long and easy to cross. Her mind was made up to get to Nil before he could get to the Selkies.

Killian appeared in the middle of the last surviving holdout of metal barges, pursued as he jumped across a row of metal containers above Emma while she herded a group into the space below. The Goblins above carelessly knocked containers down in a tumble, burying her pursuers. Emma met his eyes briefly, giving him a nod.

They continued through the maze of metal on opposite sides of each other, flowing into an easy strategy together that made her angrier still at Nil - angry that she could possibly consider working again with the Dark One. It was too simple to fall back into their unfriendly truce. The thought had barely crossed her mind when the wood under her feet splintered and bowed, her feet slipping as the barge tipped forward, barreling towards the sea floor. The impact of the hull against the rocky ground sent her flying, the noise alone reverberating through her teeth like she was shattering as the rocks came towards her at frightening speed.

The same black blur as before pushed her into swirling water. The force of the whirlpool crushed them both, but her hand crushed his even harder while he pulled upward. Water resettled again as they gasped for air together at the surface, Killian’s hair sticking flat against his face. The water was full of debris and flame, smoke making it impossible to see much of anything. Ships ground together all around them as he helped her cling to a chunk of wood. It was in both of their best interests for her to be alive and uninjured, but here he was playing some sort of savior that went far beyond the bounds of their truce. He was behind her, at her side, or in sync with her step, both of them working together with an ease as if they were partners, and yet that’s not what they were. It made her angry, furious even, even in the midst of battle.

"Killian, what - " But before she could finish, she was forced to push him frantically out of the way as a huge chunk of a rock formation fell, the resulting force smacking them together. "Look out, go!"

More rocks fell around them and cut through the smoke, Ursula's lair appearing again to all as its protective shields flickered to a shuddering halt, the walls looming over them as it hurtled downwards again towards the sea floor. One of the main chambers swallowed them as the lair descended, pushing water aside as it split around them, crystals raining down in sparkling pieces. Caught in the push back of the water, they were pulled with the mass of rock as it fell away and began settling into the bottom of the sea. The force of the ensuing wave, however, pushed them back up and over the surface, Emma's back smacking against what was once the cave floor. The two pieces were still crumbling, but now sat horizontally in the water to create an invisible shoreline made of stone. Emma had little time to acknowledge where she landed, the wind escaping her lungs when she tried to shriek and shield her body from another round of the boulders. Killian pulled her into a roll, ending up above her breathing heavily.

"G'off - " Emma let out a panted breath from under him, weakly protesting at his weight. "Catch your breath, and g'off!"

Killian rolled off of her onto his back, letting out puffs of air as he did.

"Sorry," he rasped, and finally pushed his hair out of his face with a wet slap. Emma let out a laugh, regretting it instantly as she coughed.

"S'alright." Propping herself upright on her elbows, she quickly glanced around the cave fragment where they had washed up, now its own small island in the turmoiled sea. Standing and peering around the cracked rock, her breath caught again.

Ursula's realm was broken into pieces around the remaining ships, cracked and jagged mountains of what was once the cave jutting out of the water. The piece they were sequestered on was at the outer edge, so obscured by smoke that they could not see Ursula at all until Triton's first blow landed and swept the billowing clouds away.

The brother and sister stood in the water in front of Nil's barge, both of them colossal and struggling against each other’s strength as Ursula's tentacles wrapped around the trident. Nets were thrown towards what was left of the caves, dragging selkies into a cargo hold, the water carrying sounds of distress to her ears. Emma slipped through the crack, running towards the water, but there he was in her peripheral, because of course he was. Of course he would stalk her even in the middle of a battle -

"Don't you dare tell me not to do this, not to do something - " Emma hissed, putting more distance between them. He stood slightly in front of her, but made no move to stop her.

"I wasn't going to," Killian replied with a sideways glance, following slightly behind when she pushed past. "Do you have a plan?" he asked when they got closer, nets hauling in screaming women and seals.

"Get the Selkies out and turn Nil's focus fully on me so that Ursula can free Triton. Nil doesn't care about his people or how many die; he will only notice if a new plaything is put in front of him. I don't know how much time Ursula needs, but that's my last resort plan."

"I have a plan, and it should buy you time if you - "

"Trust you again?" She whirled on her heel back towards him. "That's below even my last resort plan. I will never - "

"I've betrayed you, and I understand that you owe me nothing, Em - Princess, but I swear to you now that I give you my fealty. I swear on Milah, Liam, and Elsa that I will be your ally, and help you in this war. Take a leap of faith here, please, I promise you that - " She turned away. Killian tried to follow, but she held up a hand.

"Shut the hell up, Killian. Just stop. Please." Her voice wavered slightly, and he halted behind her. Seeing him look actually admonished, actually concerned as he pushed wet hair away from his face, Emma lowered herself into the water.

"Fair enough." He whispered.

"By the way," her shoulders tightened, though she didn’t bother to glance at him, "if you're really sorry, truly apologetic even in some part of you that can still muster that emotion, a true apology would be changed behavior. Which is why if I am faced with you and Nil as my options, I will take this dagger shard to the bottom of the sea. I’d rather die than pick either of you."

"I am - "

"I don't care, Killian. Thank you for your help here, and thank you for saving my life. It does not change anything."

Emma propelled herself forward into one of the nets, leaving him behind again. It dragged her and several frightened Selkies up over a deck, depositing them into some sort of holding cage. Emma moved quickly, cutting through the ropes with a knife that Ursula had given her. Handing it off to a nymph, Emma lifted herself from the floor with discarded netting, looking around to see what all was taking place.

Emma spotted Ariel in a corner, waving for her attention and pointing to a wall with a circling finger. She could make a portal; good - a quiet and easy way to get the Selkies to safety. Emma motioned to the groups of Selkies netted on deck, prioritizing those who were held down by Goblins or in view of the archers taking aim near the King's raised area. The first two attempts were straightforward, no Goblins milling around to stop them. The third was more harrowing, almost cut short by a Goblin's shrieking. Killian snapped its neck from behind as Emma braced herself for discovery, her eyes widening further when he ducked down and helped her cut through a heavy cord that bound the Selkies. They split apart again, the last groups too close to the front and at risk of being directly under a rain of archers. There was a shadowy section of boxes that she could dip behind for cover, but without the archers’ eyes distracted, it would be impossible to get to. Killian signaled from a corner, ducking behind a tarp when a patrol went by.

Emma stayed still in the hold, pleading with her eyes, trying to tell him that she needed only a little time. He gave her a slight downcast smile, almost a grimace but not quite, and sprung from hiding. Slashing and hacking at a set of Goblins to provide a distraction as she ran to cut the last nets, he made his way toward the front of the huge metal ship until Nil bellowed. Nil pointed one of his gnarled fingers at Killian, eyes widening in recognition as his face turned from anger, to a smile. He laughed, opening his hands and spreading his arms as if presented with an old friend.

Watching with a sick feeling churning in her gut, she saw Killian bow lowly. To her great horror, his wide, crooked, grin was once again back.

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The bow he gave was met by several Goblins overtaking him, beating him as they placed shackles on his arms and legs. They weighed heavily, burning against his skin. Iron. Of course it was iron; it was earth, after all. Goblins were right behind Dwarves with their affinity for earth magic, able to bend iron with ease.

Nil walked towards him wearing a fur cape draped over his shoulders that sparkled in the dim light. Killian could see that it was a poorly crafted blend of Merscale, Selkie pelts, and varying Ansapi skins. Even despite Nil’s garish and disgusting costuming, Killian saw the faintest glimpse of Milah in the man's unsure eyes. Then, the Goblin smiled broadly, and any trace of her was wiped away.

"You made it!" Nil bellowed, seemingly overjoyed as his guard looked on in confusion, ignoring the lifeless bodies that lay around the ship and its strange cargo pillars, marking Killian’s path.

Killian struggled slightly, testing his bonds as they seared the flesh. "Certainly did," he hissed.

"Where is my Queen? My radiant bride-to-be and future submitting wife?" Nil practically sang. Killian could see his mouth was wet, the too long tongue in his mouth slick with salivation.

Killian suppressed the disgust that threatened to spill over at the prince’s language.

The Darkness caressed his bones, tickling gently under his skin.

Tell him. Do it. End this.

Killian set his jaw, thinking of Emma's hand on the barrier she had created in the woods, the way her brows had pinched and lips had turned down. She had trusted him briefly, even going so far to say that he had good inside of him when she first forgave him, and to say she wished him peace when she left.

There had been a moment when she hesitated before going into the portal, thought about looking back at him, and he had hated her for almost forgiving him again. He had hated her for so much more than her slender shoulders had ever had to bear, blamed her for so much; he’d even told her in no uncertain terms that she should suffer as Milah had. And still, she was here, looking at him with those eyes that he couldn't escape.

No no no, you listen to me, only to me. I am your master, you are my hound to beat when it fails to bring me my kills! No, NOW LISTEN, LISTEN. END THIS.

He couldn't stop thinking of the anger and relief when she spoke his name again upon seeing him before Ursula, the way she had dismissed him instead of making him grovel like she should have, demanding her pound of flesh for what he had put her through. The way she was glancing at him now with apprehension and fear.

She is a weakling, full of uncontrolled emotions and too much trust that has led to her ruin. Go on, stop stalling! Hurry, hurry now, we can get the shard and -

And giving her to Nil would end with nothing more than misery for not only her, but anyone who stood in the Goblins’ way - Royals and Fae like Marta, or the numerous scattered Fae that refused a crown once before -

“Well?” Nil asked, laughing raucously.

Well? Give him the princess, you blithering simpleton -

Killian cleared his throat, preparing himself. "She's dead."

What!?

"I must have misheard you, Dark One," Nil chuckled dangerously. "Say again?"

Yes, say AGAIN? WHAT ARE YOU DOING? END THIS.

The Darkness tried to force its words onto his tongue, but he would not let her forgiveness by dismissal be in vain.

ENDTHISENDTHISENDTHISENDTHISENDTHISENDTHISENDTHISENDTHISENDTHISENDTHISENDTHISENDTHISENDTHISENDTHISENDTHIS END THIS, GIVE HER UP

"She's dead; she ran from me weeks ago. I found her body in a ravine, the shard dissolved to ash. I will never be freed." He spoke as bitterly as he could, channeling the hatred easily.

"What?" the Goblin Prince screamed, enraged. "She is strong willed and has a bite to match that delectable bark, so she cannot be dead. She is like my own stolen mother, and destined for her blood to strengthen the throne. No, she cannot be dead."

You won't buy her time with this, you fool! This is inevitable, she is his and will be his like your whore was his father's. You must get the shard -

"I assure you, she is. Even in death, she made it difficult. The ravine was deep and absolutely bloody terrible to climb into. I can't imagine falling down it was anything even she could have survived."

You will suffer for this.

"Good," Killian whispered, mostly to himself. Emma looked at him from the remains of the net, where the Selkies were now freed from their confines. She motioned for him to stop, but he shook his head, wet strands of the shaggy mess sticking to his forehead. The Goblin Prince paced, before taking deep breaths and turning again to face Killian.

"Then why have you come here, slaughtered my fleet, and created chaos? I've heard about your glory under my father. Did you really come here empty handed to tell me you're untethered?" Nil attempted to sound amused, but the desperate edge was heavy in his tone. There was no control there, just an angry brat brashly striking out at everyone.

Killian put on a pedantic smile, causing Nil to immediately start shifting in his place like a child. "Why wouldn't I? I only create chaos, and with no master that means I can strike against you too. Your damnable father may not be here, but I can still hurt you," he drawled, a bit of The Darkness in his voice for finesse.

What are you doing, what ARE YOU DOING?

"Then you're useless to me. It's lucky I don't believe you." Nil smiled with a menacing edge. "We'll just leave you here for safekeeping until I can verify this unfortunate and convenient tragedy. My betrothed is a beautiful specimen and so strong, it's hard to believe she isn't ferreted away somewhere. Her tenacity knows no bounds, yet again like my beloved Mother. I love that fighting spirit, she will make a strong future king, as it is written." Walking to a large flat piece of iron and picking it up from the floor, the sheet rolled like paper in his glowing hands until it crafted into a large curved spike.

There was a sharp pain in his chest as the U bend of the makeshift iron anchor broke through the skin of his back, cracking ribs. Killian groaned, falling back, but Nil was there, standing on top of the iron contraption and pushing it deeper. Pushing the other side of heavy iron through his ribcage, Killian felt the air escape his lungs in a choking rasp, forcing him to double over, while Nil gave him a hard push into the sea.

You've killed us both you fool. I hope you're happy.

"We don't die. I'm content to lie at the bottom of the sea if that means another does not have the same fate as Milah. I meant what I said."

You will know true agony for this. Your insolence has been a problem, but this? This you will suffer for; this you will know true pain for.

"Aye, I'm sure of it. For now, enjoy the water for the both of us."

The dark pressure seemed endless, and the pain was constant, but it cleared his thoughts. Killian of the Blackwater, left to sit in the blackest depths forevermore. The Darkness writhed and cajoled and raged, but nothing it did could disturb his peace, the idea of penance weighing heavier than the cold, deep nothingness.

He wondered if this was what Liam felt. The thought didn't hurt him this time.

The anchor dragged along the sand at the bottom, drawing another sound that escaped in bubbles. More pain burned through him as his lungs filled with water. Stars lit behind his eyes, bright pops of color flashing in time with the stabs of pain. Hours passed like this, his thoughts just as full with briny water as he tried not to think about how long this torture would continue. A firework lit in his mind as the anchor hit a rock, sending reverberating shocks through his body. He wished vainly for the darkness to take him instead of the bursts of brightness.

But no, the light would not go away. It became a pinpoint, then a glow that was warmer and more comforting than anything he thought he would know, growing to spread through him. He cracked open his eyes to see what he thought was a fierce angel, or quite possibly a nymph or siren, who swam before him encased in bright sunshine shimmers of light with a halo around her head and wearing Emma’s face.

There was no mockery, for which he thanked the heavens; she simply lifted him, felt the iron, and dropped him suddenly. Tentacles wrapped around the thickest bend of the molded metal, wood crashing around them as the strange suction cup dotted arms yanked. Then, the weight in his chest loosened and he was flying, finally free. It was too much; he flew too high and too fast, falling just as quickly, his eyes shut tightly.

He fell on something hard, forcing him to cough up water as he raised himself on his side. Soft hands pushed hair out of his face, and something warm crashed into him against where the iron had been. He groaned as whatever it was that had settled against him. A person? When he let out a breath, the person - yes, it was definitely a person - began hitting him.

They stopped suddenly, and after no other smacks came for several moments he opened his eyes to see Emma staring back at him with worry, concern, and anger filling her own gaze.

"You fucking idiot!" she screamed. "You -"

"You know that I can't die, right? I'm a survivor.”

"You still… Even if… If you had been hurt, hurt worse than this I mean, I… Why did you do that? I had a plan, and you - you bought us so much more time, I should have let you - I should have trusted - We couldn't have done this without you, I just…" Emma swiped at her eyes. "Why would you, you absolute…"

Trying to sit up and practically toppling them both, he groused wryly at her noise of concern. "Maybe I just needed reminding that I could be on the hero's side, or maybe I knew you would never let me get off that easy and without yelling at me, you stubborn - "

Emma hit him lightly again, her voice laced with strained amusement and lessening terror. "Don't move. Just stop, don't move, you arrogant ass."

"Princess, you deprive me of a dashing rescue, and then add insult to injury - "

"Emma. Please, I…" She straightened her shoulders and began to laugh, his grin at her not helping. Her voice cracked when she tried to start talking, and though she cleared her throat, she could not hide the tremble. "I think, Emma is just fine. Or I quite liked when you called me Swan."

"Hey, hey now," he soothed, and when he laid a hand on her cheek she turned her face into his palm, holding her own hand against his. Emma couldn't hold back a shaky breath as a few tears escaped, and he pulled her tightly to him. "Hey. Don't cry. I'm the one who was gravely injured. It was about time you saved me from almost drowning, even though I technically cannot. We'll count it as one to three, with me in the lead. You can't steal that too, Swan."

Her hiccupping laugh and weak wristed smack made him snort. The wound in his back closed, the Darkness ever keeping him alive, even as it still stopped short of his hand. Finally, Killian allowed himself to look around. They were on an old style ship, a light fleet frigate possibly, with no one else in sight. It felt vaguely familiar, but so did simply being at sea. Emma shuddered against him, cold and most likely exhausted as he pressed her for details.

"What happened to Nil's armada?"

"Your claim that I was dead caused the Goblin Prince to throw a full-on tantrum, leaving his own ship by portal. The mages he left in charge couldn't control Triton when whittled down in numbers. By the time Nil came back with his father, Triton was free, Ursula was laying waste to anything with Goblins on board, and the Selkies were free and trying to heal their wounded while regrouping. Ursula threw us on this ship after we looked for you, and the two of them destroyed Nil’s entire armada. Nil escaped through a portal at the last second, though. I watched through your telescope." Emma blushed lightly, pulling away from him. "Ursula said this ship will mean something to you, but I don't recognize it other than it being the one we used today. It's sort of a hodge-podge of Mer-craftsmanship; a frigate, speed sloop, galleon, and tall ship all crammed together. The base and bunks seem to be mostly the galleon? It's that ship Eric pulled out of the water before -"

"Liam's ship," he breathed. "My ship."

"I thought yours was The Jewel of the Realm? This one says something about being Jolly." She pointed over the edge, and he joined her to peer over. In sloppy carved graffiti, some sea dwelling mer-miscreant had replaced the clean script of the Fae Navy with 'The Jolly Roger'.

Killian couldn't find it in himself to be angry, instead laughing as he crossed to the stern, feeling the same breeze that his brother and he had felt, the sea immediately calming him. Emma had only made this all the better, expending any magic she hadn't used drying their supplies and the ship's hold. Once waterlogged books filled with his brother's notes were crisp and clean, and a patina worn sextant looked almost like new on a pristine desk. Opening a trunk, he found naval uniforms pressed for a day's work, closing the lid after running his fingers over the brass buttons and fringed epaulets on the shoulders.

Then there were the other ships, the pieces of other wrecks merged to what was his, that made up the crooked interior, filled with casks and casks of glorious rum.

He created a small fire in the tiny galley, heating it with the butter they had left, still in Ingrid's strange plastic pastel container, before joining Emma on the deck with two cups as she arranged blankets.

"How's your hand?" Emma asked, watching him settle.

He gave a shrug, trying to mask the fire coursing through his bent fingers. "S'fine."

He took a heavy swig, the rum doing nothing to help the pain in his hand. Emma rolled her eyes and crawled beside him, taking his cold palm in hers. "Which means 'it hurts' in High Killian. You're truly a terrible liar."

"The Goblin believed me when I told them you were dead."

"Barely, and I mean, case and point." Emma smirked, her magic glowing softly.

Killian barked out a laugh, and her magic spread, his hand stopping its searing throbs. He sighed in relief, and picked up a steaming mug.

"Any idea where we're off to?" he asked. Emma sighed wearily.

"I haven't had much more that a moment while you looked around yourself, but I believe we’re in this general vicinity." She spread out a large map that he had not noticed, unrolling it and pinning it down with a few stones she must have found in Liam's collection. Amethyst and a chunk of bismuth glittered at each corner. Emma pointed with the ends of a navigational compass to a location in the blue defined area she had made a circle around. "The stars aren't great right now, but I remember them well enough to find the cardinal points. There was a current map where I found this, and based on the stars and our speed, I think this is our trajectory if we're seeking the closest shore to land on." She tapped a small speck on the map with the compass, some unmarked island.

Killian raised an eyebrow, remarkably impressed. "You know marine navigation?"

Emma shrugged, with a teasing smile playing on her lips. "Even a proper noblewoman needs hobbies."

"I'm beginning to believe that you aren't the most proper of noblewomen, Swan."

"My reputation is ruined, you'll have to seek out other debutantes to fill your season."

He was caught off guard by her quip, and laughed in surprise, her giggling joining his. He brushed a finger over one of her lines on the map. "This is going to take some time, if you're right. Have you been at sea for any length of time?"

Emma shook her head, and sighed. "No. The sea wasn't a place for a princess." Her tone was sour, and she looked at him with the glint of irritation he'd begun to notice was present when she spoke about the ridiculous notions of the royals.

"Well, now it seems it is." He gave her a wink, and her cheeks flushed a deep red, the rum seemingly warming her further. "We'll be in close quarters, especially with what a mess of mismatched parts below deck is. Stay off my toes, and we'll be fine."

Looking at him with a cocked head and an amused expression, she gave a mock salute while imitating his accent. "Aye aye, Captain, sir."

He grimaced, and downed his rum. The Darkness had quieted again, probably due to her close proximity and how her magic seemed to target it lately.

Emma took another large swig of rum, her skin heating with a visible flush. Killian grinned at her, taking the mug down to pour more for them. When he handed it to her, she took another swig, seeming to savor the burn in her throat and warmth in her belly. Giggling, she let herself fall back onto the blankets they had laid across the deck.

"The last time I was this drunk was when I kissed you," she laughed, rolling onto her side clumsily to look at him. "After we escaped Pann."

"You were much more drunk then," he laughed back before realization dawned on him. "Wait, you remember that?"

"Yeah, and you lying about it." Her grin was playful, and she laid her head down to hide half her face in the blankets. Killian felt his ears heat, and tried not to choke on anymore of the rum. "Why did you, anyway?"

"I didn't - it was obvious you were out of sorts, just…"

"Knackered? Foxed? Three shades to the wind?" Emma giggled, and when he didn't return the laugh she reached for him. "I didn't mean to upset you, I definitely shouldn't have done that. I mean, I don't regret it, because it was nice and you have nice lips and a nice face, and - " She rambled, and his eyebrow raised. She let out a groan and covered her mouth.

"A drunken mind speaks a sober - " he chuckled awkwardly, Emma reaching to push him softly before he could finish the proverb. There was a part of him that felt strange, full of pride, while all at once wistful.

"Shut up," she whined, her blush making her eyes more green. "We will never speak of this again."

"Not a word from my nice lips about it again, I swear it." Miming zipping his lips, Emma groaned once more, falling back into the blankets again while laughing. Her laughter, being out at sea, the rum - it was heady when mixed with the thought of the way she had felt. There was no way he could admit anything more than that to himself, let alone Emma.

Later he checked her coordinates against the constellations, both of them looking at the stars and looking over the map by candlelight. Emma fell asleep as he began to work in silence and he coaxed her to take a pillow to lay her head on, the quiet snoring lasting for a few hours.

She tossed and turned under the blanket, briefly scaring him with the suddenness of her flailing.

"Emma? Are you alright?"

"Don't touch me, please don't touch - " she startled awake, throwing her body away from his own. With hazy eyes filled with tears, Emma scrunched into her frame just as he saw her do within Ursula's realm, magic leaving her in waves. "Nil, no, please don't - "

The first few bursts of magic caught him off guard, hitting him squarely in the chest. The third he tried to roll away from as it hit his hip, the movement fully pulling her from the night terror.

Her breathing was rapid and unsteady, as she murmured an apology, fingers twisting her hair.

She looked exhausted, and Killian wondered again when the last time she had gotten proper rest was. Approaching carefully, he wrapped her in the blanket she had thrown off, helping her to stand.

"Go sleep in the bunk. It will be more comfortable for you," Killian whispered, and Emma let him tuck a stray piece of her hair behind her ear, his skin meeting the softness of her cheek. He nodded to the hatch, helping her down the ladder until she closed the latch behind her. Sitting down on the deck to look over the maps again, he attempted to rub out the twinge in his chest that had begun to ache from where her magic had dealt its blows.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The dress for the evening of this ball is beautiful, and fits her like a glove as she twirls for her father. He's happier than she has seen him in a long time, eyes crinkled at the corners, watching her like she is the most important thing in the world as she shows him the intricate crystal work that glitters in the light.

Her mother hugs her from behind, a rare warm gesture rather than the iciness that Emma is used to in their relationship, decorum and etiquette frowning on displays of affection. The green velvet of her mother's gown smells like moss, pine, sweet grass, and fresh snow as her mother rests her head on Emma's shoulder.

Her father twirled her again, and they're at the ball. As unsure as she is what this party commemorates, the food and drink do not disappoint, nor does the selection of dance partners. A warm set of hands covers her eyes, and she can feel the press of a person against her back but it isn't unwelcome at all. Instead she feels the roughness of his palms, stubble against her neck, warm breath in her ear, and Killian’s voice.

"I have a surprise for you, darling," he whispers, and Emma feels her stomach flip like it had once with Graham. To her surprise, she feels trust and a sense of peace that he is with her here, and grins at his gift. The music goes silent in the ballroom, along with the guests, as if a great breath has snuffed everything out. "No peeking now…" Killian’s hands fall away and she screws her eyes tightly shut.

A finger traces her exposed spine, and she giggles, the nail sharp against her skin while feathers soften its trail. Although not completely unpleasant, it feels off the longer and further it goes, and she shivers as she leans away from the touch. The person behind her wraps their arms around her tightly, making it impossible to move while trailing their nails down her exposed skin. Emma struggles, and she feels a sickeningly familiar giggle rumble through the chest against her back.

This wasn't Killian any longer. She keeps her eyes shut, trying to wish away the sour smelling breath against the junction of her throat.

"Open your eyes, my beautiful wife, my queen to rival all queens. Open your eyes and behold my gift to you," Nil hisses, dragging his tongue along her shoulder blade.

Despite trying to clench her eyes shut with everything in her power, they are forced open to the light of the ballroom, twinkling lights that briefly blind then illuminate the bodies on the patterned floor. Crimson puddles lay around the courtiers as they themselves laid too still, livery soaking up the blood. Emma lets out a cry, running and slipping in the pools, her skirts and slippers filling with wet warmth, the taste of copper on her tongue.

Her parents slumped in their thrones, eyes and mouths open too wide, and Emma hears herself now as she chokes out moans, her voice too small but so loud in the silence that permeates in the absence of life. From behind her father's throne, Killian appears, his hands and face drenched in the same red that blooms from her parents necks while he wipes his sword on his waistcoat.

His face contorts in a sinister grin that only widens when he catches her horrified gaze, his eyes flickering to the floor. His eyes that are terribly, and awfully sad.

Emma turns back to Nil, his smile akin to Killian’s own, the dagger in his grip as Killian takes a place slightly behind him like a prostrate lap dog. Emma shakes her head, falling to her knees.

"Do you not like my gift, my radiant queen? I wanted something that left an impression as your last sight before the Darkness of your new life begins." Nil cocks his head, moving to her to lift her chin. Emma feels tears stream down her cheeks. "You will learn to love the Darkness, just as you will learn to love me, and love what I have done for you. Come, wife. Come."

The ballroom disappears around her as the world goes black, the floor falling away to leave her tumbling into the abyss. She lands on a soft surface, hands scrambling to feel around and escape. Her arms tangle in silken sheets as pillows, down, and bedding seemed to hold her, realizing she's landed in a bed that is not her own. The bedding fabric tightens around her wrists and ankles, forcing her body into a prone position, forcing her into a vulnerable position, even as she struggles in the dark. A rustling catches her attention, her body tense as she tries to place where the noise came from. She could see nothing in the gloom, no matter how much she tried. Nil's voice slithered through the murk.

"You're home now, my magnificent queen. Home and safely held, to get you acclimated to life here, to the absence of light." The sound of fabric falling to the ground came from her left, followed by dragging footsteps echoing across the space, Emma's breath coming in panicked gasps.

She feels the creak of the bed near her feet, a knee against her calf as a feathered hand slid up her thigh. Emma pleads for him to stop, desperately trying to get away from his touch.

Nil's voice is silky against her hip. "You'll get used to this too, not that I mind. Fighting makes a better future king."

Screams ripped from her throat and he pulled away, hissing at the noise. "Dark One! Hold her mouth silent!"

Killian appears through the darkness, leaning over her as she begs and pleads for this to stop. His eyes glow blue, and they are still so sad as his hand covers her mouth, muffling her voice. He looks close to tears, like he's breaking himself, his hand trembling against her lips while he tries to comfort her even as Nil returns to her thigh.

"Emma, I'm so sorry, Emma, shhhhh, please." The room grows brighter, his eyes are brighter and he is clenching his jaw in fury. Emma can feel the light coming back, but Nil's hands press on, too close to where they should never be, and her begging gets louder along with Killian’s voice right above her, "Emma, are you alright?"

And no, she isn't, but the room is gone and he's saved her, eyes blue in her blurry vision -

Waking up in terror after the rum had worn off, Emma had hoped for more sleep, but even the alcohol was unable to combat her nightmare on the deck. The dream continued to plague her, pieces of it making her breath catch until it fades. Killian was in her dreams more frequently since his return, both ambivalent and malicious in each turn. Killian had helped her down into those chambers, and although she still was slightly hazy, it was a welcome change.

It was odd to be in the room of a person that had changed into a stranger inside his own skin, the remaining discarded bits of what was a life scattered in disarray. Lighting a candle, she looked at the open trunk and the uniform placed reverently over a desk chair, letting her fingers run along the buttons and brush the fringe of the epaulets. The books she had pulled earlier were still out, and she opened dog eared pages, surprised by the different sets of handwriting in the margins.

Sturdy, block text that reminded her of laws and bills that her parents had to sign underlined passages, while a flowery script poked fun at those footnotes. The flowery text seemed to enjoy more poetry and philosophy, which the block text had teased heavily. Based on what she knew, Liam and Killian respectively were the authors, Killian’s text much more chaotic and flamboyant. Another hand's script had joined later, letters beautiful and words softly pushed together. It wrote love notes in the corners, or bracketed passages, occasionally a watercolor picture left tucked neatly in the pages where they wrote paragraphs. Milah, Emma assumed.

Killian had once painted, she discovered after finding a ribbon bound stack of his work. Pictures of Milah were his main focus, then the water, landscapes, and animals. His work was humorous and surreal on occasion too, and Emma wondered what that man had been like, before everything happened. He had been different then, and it made her feel anxious and vulnerable to wonder if that man was still buried somewhere within the tortured soul she now kept company with.

Stripping to her shift to combat the last of summer's heat, she laid down on the bunk, surprised at the luxurious nature of the bedding. Here in the cabin, she could better hear the water, waves rocking the ship. Later, she heard his footfalls, opening her eyes briefly as he whispered that she was alright, stroking her hair gently.

Emma could feel the remnants of the dream, the same as before and the same that had haunted her since she had found herself in Ursula's domain. He kept on with his soothing until the tension in her shoulders fell away, the traced patterns against her scalp in sync with the waves. The ghost of the old Killian still remained, she mused smiling sleepily, the one she could trust. She fell immediately back to sleep, resting for the first time in weeks and dreaming of home.

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watchoutforthefanfics · 5 years

Text

Teen Romance Logicality // Part 10

Taglist: @loveyatothemoonandback @datoneidiot @doepuffsss @katie-the-noble-fangirl @awkwardcat @sanders-sides-love-astronomy @lallyphant @procrastinatingnerd @i-need-you-buddy

Parts One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, and Nine.

Ahhh I can't believe this is it!!

(Other than a few planned things. *cough* Prinxiety and maybe future stuff *cough*)

Enjoy my teen boys one last time...maybe. (This is the end of this series but not this universe.)

Thank you for reading this series!!

~ ~ ~

Logan couldn't believe it, today was his last day as a highschooler. This was the last time he'd roam those halls with his best friend, last time he'd prove his History teacher wrong, last time he'd sneak a call to Patton in the bathrooms...

Logan was hardly ready, as he stared at his suit laid completely in the center of his perfectly-made bed, and remembered every single thing that he could.

Maybe it was so he wouldn't have to face it, or maybe it was so he didn't forget it on his journey of life.

So he didn't forget all that had brought him here, Logan's eyes steadied on the pride flag stretched just above his bed and felt apart of him just... sigh.

There was a point in his life that he was afraid of that, afraid of who he was and how it would affect his life. Yet, he sat here; his identity flaunted and more in love than he could ever even imagine.

His heart skipped a beat, as his eyes fogged up without a beat of hesitation.

He used to be so afraid of feelings of so much vulnerability and heartbreak, that he tore his heart away from anything it had latched onto. Except, one.

Except Patton.

Logan's heart swelled, as he smiled a wide broad smile, just thinking about him. About everything Patton had been there for, helped him with, and just how much he had learned from him.

Logan didn't even know how much he didn't know until he met Patton, and began to love him on a level he never even knew he was capable of.

Sure, they were teenagers but Logan felt like he had known him for three decades, and couldn't imagine living without him.

To be fair though, Patton hadn't been the only one to shape him.

His eyes shifted to a Pride picture sat just by his bedside, with Roman in a rainbow crown and himself with a flag draped across the back of his shoulders.

Roman had done so much for him, and although he was incredibly annoying, he was heaven-sent.

Roman had been there for an stubborn, arrogant boy when he was at his worst, and helped him accept himself despite never wanting to.

He, oddly, owed his life to Roman. And hoped whoever he ended up with would be worth such an egotistical but loyal prince, otherwise, Logan would destroy them.

Logan didn't wipe away the tears when they sunk down his cheeks, as he picked up the picture frames just by his bed: one of a familiar boy with a bunny and one of Roman giving him a "makeover" when they were younger.

He could feel the tears well up in his eyes, quietly and considerately, and for one of the first times Logan felt in his life, they deserved to fall.

Everything was about to change, Logan found his eyes falling on the robe and cap hanging up on his closet wall, and he couldn't stop it.

With a sigh, he stood and tried to focus, as well as wiped away his blood-red eyes. Remembering distantly Roman's advice with a small smile, "You're a god, teach; all you've gotta learn is how to care for yourself."

A chuckle and his door was opening, his Mom was grinning with teary eyes that Logan had expected, but hadn't had the guts to imagine.

He now knew why.

Her hair was neat --contrary to her usually messy, tossed look--, and her eyes were gleaming with a sense of sadness and... pride.

Logan swallowed that sob that wished to echo out of his mouth, because she was proud of him and that's truly all he had ever wanted.

"I-" his Mom began with a guilty tone, but her eyes stayed locked on her son.

"Mom-" Logan spoke, words tumbling, "-you don't have t-"

His Mom shook her head, a smile that gleamed under the swift glance of teary eyes, "Oh, but I want too."

"Logan," she shook her head, running a gentle hand down her face, "-I know, I know I don't say it enough. But I love you, and I'm so, so proud of you. For everything, okay? You should know that, I should've told you that mor-"

"Mom-" Logan hummed, wrapping her in a hug that filled a hole in his heart, "-it's okay. You said it now, and that's all that matters. I know."

His Mom wrapped her smaller frame around him, she was gentle but he knew this had meant the world to her. He could tell in the way her grip tightened on him for a split second, like she was holding him as tight as she could, just in case she couldn't again.

"You," she spoke into the air behind him, "You should be whatever you want, Logan. You always should have that choice. I... I never meant to take it from you."

Logan spoke, for what felt like the 10th time that day, "Mom-"

"No," his Mom smiled, pulling back and holding his hands in a quiet moment, "-no, you- You should go with Patton. He makes you happy, I can tell. You deserve to be happy, Logan Alexander."

Logan was quiet, unable to say what exactly he had felt in that moment. It was a complicated slosh of feelings that he didn't exactly know how to... communicate, and found that the silence spoke a lot more than he could say outloud.

"You have to promise me that you'll be happy."

"I-" Logan choked back a sob, tears rolling quietly down his cheeks, "I promise Mom, Patton makes me really happy. He couldn't hurt anything that was relatively harmless."

His Mom smirked, pinching his cheek, "Oh, Logan. I'm so proud of who you've become, Patton is one lucky, lucky boy."

Logan sniffled, "Thank you, I- I don't know what to say."

"Hmm, maybe. This is just a thought-" his Mom rambled with a teasing tone, "-'Mom, I'll invite you to the wedding?'"

Logan rolled his eyes, wiping off his clouded glasses, "You had to ruin it, Mom? Really?"

She smiled, "Anything to get you to stop crying, Logan. Now, looks like you've got a suit to put on, no?"

He grinned, his heart lifted and so full that Logan was honestly surprised he wasn't levitating at how much he felt like it.

This day truly couldn't get any better.

◇◇◇

Logan's knee was bouncing, he sat just behind a girl named... Stephanie? He thought so anyway, she was confident and incredibly nice.

He would... never see her again.

He'd never seen a lot of people again, that was apart of this moment. His hands were clammy with a stack of index cards practically being squeezed to death in his right hand; of course, he was valedictorian.

Who else would be?

So, he had a speech prepped and ready to launch when he was called upon. He was scared, but a good kind of scared (he cursed himself for a vocabulary change), and he couldn't not say he wasn't practically dancing on his toes at the fact that he would Patton would physically be in his presence soon.

He didn't need to think about that right now, he had to focus-

"-our valedictorian, Logan Reilly!"

Logan's eyes went wide, just for a second as he swallowed down the fear and stood with as straight as his posture would allow.

He cleared his throat, his cards set just onto the podium in front of him; as he quietly wrung out his hands an effective way to calm his stuttering nerves.

"I'd like- I'd like to say that this will be easy-" Logan spoke, careful and pristine with every ounce of confidence in his tone, "-but I'm sure, we all know it won't be. And you all know, I don't like liars-"

A falsehood echoed somewhere in the crowd, a memory of something that had defined him in this school. It was... nice.

"So," Logan chuckled, "-I think we can all agree that it's hard, it is difficult to say goodbye to this. To these walls and these teachers that we are so ever familiar with."

"Even if it wasn't pleasant," Logan added, "-it's hard to deal with change. To label this chapter of our stories with 'The End', and to comprehend the next steps in our lives. Because afterall, we're just human."

"Today, however-" Logan transitioned, "-I don't propose an end to you, nor do I propose a clichéd entirely new beginning. I say just keep going, this is just a new layer of your life. Things will change, of course, it is inevitable. But it will only truly affect you, if you allow it do so."

Logan paused, beginning steadily, "This is your life, and whether you want to be a doctor, lawyer, or a professional heartbreaker --it is of no importance--, because you control it. You live how you want to. What would I recommend?"

"Well," Logan tapped his chin, "-take those who you love-"

His eyes searched for his Mom within the crowd, finding her bright smile in a sea of faces; she sat just beside a familiar fa-

Logan froze, squinting for a second, as his heart halted in his chest; warm curls, round glasses and the shiniest blue eyes he had ever seen.

Holy-

For a second, Logan forgot how to breath and where he was because the love of his life was in the crowd-

He cleared his throat, trying to regain himself and cage his ever bursting heart in his ribcage, plus restrain himself from running from the stage at that exact second.

He wasn't even graduated yet, that was too improbab-

"T-Take," Logan began again, "-Take those who you love and choose your journey, choose where you wish to go. It's truly your decision whether or not this is an ending, or just another step up the staircase of life. Thank you for the memories, I'm glad I graduated with you all."

There was a roaring applause that Logan felt a surge of pride for, but all he could think about was the fact that he had actually seen Patton with his actual two eyes.

He was real, he was here.

He was breathing the same air as him; he was so close to him, closer than he's ever been. Logan could touch him, potentially.

With a racing heart, Logan made his way back to his seat with a bouncing leg but this time for a different reason, that Logan believed was immensely better.

Getting his diploma felt unreal, he was lined up meticulously and he had seen this through a metaphorical lens, he could've sworn that it wasn't real.

That he was enraptured in a fantasy world, but he had to remind himself he wasn't Roman. Everything was real, he was... graduating.

"With the highest honors, Logan Reilly."

Accepting his diploma with a brief handshake and bright smile, Logan swore he couldn't feel more unreal.

This was a new page in a book he was... excited to read.

◇◇◇

The rest of the graduation ceremony was quick, all Logan could think about was who was up in the stands. Who he had loved but never even seen with his true bare eyes.

But, he controlled himself. He stayed on the bottom floor because that was what his Mom had planned earlier, and Logan wasn't one to break plans. So he sat there, practically bouncing as his eyes flashed to the bleachers and back to the crowd, anything to tip him off would make him start sprinting at this point.

"Hey-" Roman spoke, causing Logan to jump and almost fall over himself, "-Nerd Alert, you look a little, dare I say it, distracted? Everything... alright?"

Logan paused, looking at his best friend, "Yes, yes. Roman, I'm perfectly fine. It seems there is an extra visitor, that I have come unprep-"

Roman burst, "Patton's here! HOLY SH-"

"Woah, Roman-" Logan laughed lightly, "-we are still on school grounds."

"True, true," Roman hummed, he was visibly bouncing, up and down and up and down.

Logan was practically frantic, as he rambled, "I'm actually remarkably nervous, which is quite unusual. I just, I want him to like me, you know?"

"Oh Logan," Roman stood on his tippy toes to see over heads, "-Patton loves you, nothing is ever going to change that."

Logan glanced at Roman, his gaze sweeping slowly back to the crowd, "I know, it's an odd fee-"

Logan's words halted on his lips, his eyes locking with a head of such fluffy curls and the brightest pair of eyes he'd ever seen.

And suddenly he was broken, his eyes locking on him like he couldn't move, like he barely even registered that there he was: Patton was right there.

Logan could scream.

Patton wasn't looking at him though, he was leading his purple-haired friend --who he assumed was Virgil-- through the hectic crowd, with a caring and gentle touch.

Logan truly didn't know how to react, should he start running? Should he call out to him? Make noise? What was the proper way to make him see m-

Virgil's dark brown eyes widened as they landed on him, a grin bashfully making it onto his lips and Logan could see him sputter to Patton. He could see the struggle of trying to explain it, until the surprisingly tall anxious boy just groaned and pointed behind him.

Logan lost it, when Patton slowly turned around and for the first time, Patton's light blue wonders of eyes locked onto his. His heart skipping in his chest, before Logan could even blink Patton had dropped Virgil's wrist with a quick thump, and began running through the crowd to him.

Logan's heart was racing in his ears, as he grinned as bright as a beam of light, and made his way to him through the crowds too.

Step, keep moving, he had to keep reminding himself, ignoring the feeling that was quite vividly tearing his stomach out. He just had to focus on Patton's curls, curls that Logan could feel with his fingertips-

And then, the two found a clear pathway, a section open for just the two of them like a runway for a plane. Before Logan could move an inch though, Patton was already sprinting toward him.

And he was oddly fast, very very fast.

So Logan found himself waiting, until Patton crashed directly into his arms and Logan caught him and spun him around to disperse the force. (Totally not for dramatic effect.)

He was touching Patton, Patton was literally right in front of him and he could feel him breath and his chest move with his laugh.

Logan pulled him close to his chest with a single movement, as Patton dug his head into his neck and wrapped his legs just around Logan's torso.

It felt so right, as he breathed in his distant scent of strawberries, felt his curls against his face.

God, he was real.

He was so real, and warm and lovely. How was this happening? Was it all a dream? It had to be a dream right? It has to b-

Patton pulled back, interrupting his thoughts, and Logan was so close he could see the lightest bit of freckles scattered along his cheeks. He was remarkably beautiful.

Just until Logan noticed that he was crying, tears were slowly making their way down his cheeks and Logan immediately panicked.

He put him down, crouching slightly to match his height, and it was then he realized he could touch him, there was no screen.

Logan's thumbs were quick, wiping away the flood pouring from his eyes, with a concerned tone, "Love, what's wrong? Is everything alright? Are you okay? Did you get hu-"

Patton sniffled, which was possibly the cutest thing Logan had ever seen, "I'm just-"

Logan held onto the edge of his words, ready to fight literally anyone in a moment's notice; which was unusual behavior but his boyfriend had been way cuter in person than over the phone which is so incredibly impossible, but-

"I'm just-" Patton spoke, a gleam in his eye and the warmest smile that sent "butterflies" straight to Logan's stomach, "I'm just really happy."

Logan faltered, a sloppy smile slipping it's way onto his lips without hesitation, "Oh, Patton. I love you so much, I'm not sure I can handle it."

Patton's face brightened so much, Logan wouldn't mind saying those words for the rest of his life; his smile was entirely too infectious and Logan could hardly breathe from the love that bloomed deep in his chest.

Oh god, he loved him. He loved him so much he could scream it off the rooftops --which was highly dangerous and improbable--, he'd yell it across the world if he had too.

Patton grinned, placing a hand on Logan's face with just the lightest hesitation, "I... I love you too. I just... I can't believe you're here, with me. You're real. You're... you're Logan."

Logan leaned into his hand, absorbing the warmth flowing through his skin without a shred of rejection or even thought at this point. He was running on adrenaline, adrenaline and love.

Patton was quiet, just for a second and Logan could feel his whole world freeze with him.

"I..." Patton hummed, inching closer to Logan with every step, "May I kis-"

Logan surged forward, because god he had been waiting to do that for so long. He had imagined it many a times before, what it felt like to kiss Patton and he hadn't imagined anything less than absolute bliss.

And he was so, so right.

It was slow and warm and sweet, filled with years of wanting to do so, but never doing so. Logan couldn't imagine anything more perfect, as he pulled Patton to him by the waist and wished on every star in the sky that this was real, and that Patton would stay here, with him, forever.

When they pulled away, it was for a breath and not much else. Just until, Patton's eyes began to sparkle and Logan didn't think he could ever see anything more beautiful.

"I..." Logan didn't know what to say, he was speechless at this beautiful boy in front of him.

Patton shook his head, placing a finger on his lips with a cheesy smile, "My turn to talk, Lo-Lo."

Logan rolled his eyes, with a shine of admiration in his eyes and love in his heart.

"You are-" Patton spoke inbetween kisses scatter among Logan's face and he was melting, "-amazing," kiss to the cheek, "-smart," kiss to the other cheek, "-handsome," kiss to the forehead, "-my entire world, and-" kiss to the nose.

Patton grabbed his tie and pulled him down, looking straight at his lips, "-I'm never going to let you go again."

Logan squeaked, and Patton met their lips again, confident and happy and Logan couldn't ask for anything better.

fin~

#ts logicality #totally not crying #or projecting #teen romance logicality #the end!

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rixxy8173571m3w1p3 · 6 years

Text

September Song (3/3)

I'm sorry @kitten-wrath that this took so long, but I do hope you like it. @hoodoo12 @xerxezra thanks for brainstorming with me. By the way, @kitten-wrath there's a reference to one of your fics. I'm sure you'll know it immediately, but to those that don't the read her fic here (Link to referenced fic)

I'm really proud of this fic. It references many of my other fics since most of them being to my Fluffy Adventures With Your Boyfriend Doofus Rick series. I would list all the references, but there's too many. Though, I can list a few of the bigger references for context (Sentimental Reasons, As The World Falls Down, The Little Big Things)

Also, special thanks go to @her-victori for reading a majority of my fics in a short span of time. You Rock! As well to random anons who leave me sweet words in my ask box.

If you haven't read the first or second of this fic then here's the link. (Read Part1 Here) (Read Part2 Here)

In this fic the reader tries to be more reserved and mature for Rick, but what will he think?

______________

Chapter 3: One hasn't got time

Random fish jumped out of the water, a cricket jumped over his foot, and there you two were amidst the music of the night. You sat on the hood of his car, swinging your feet back and forth, wondering what was going on inside of that head of his. You knew Zeta-7 was studying you, with one his hands in his pocket while the other held your heels, half hidden by the darkness. Was he worried you were going to walk barefoot on the gravel, or preoccupied with the state of your naked feet? Might've been the shade of nail polish you had on your toes, or simply he was thinking of a completely unrelated topic; of which you may never know. Nonetheless, you were compelled to apologize again in order to fill up the gap of conversation. “Rick, I really am sorry if I ruined our date. I should've just talked to you about how I was feeling.”

Walking around the car, placing your discarded heels in the back seat, Zeta-7 opened the trunk and searched around until he found what he was looking for. “Y-y-you didn't ruin our date,” he assured, dropping on one knee beside you so he could slip his sandals on your feet. “you saved it. It's - it's one less thing t-to worry about. Boy, I'm glad I-I still had a pair of flip flops in the trunk. They sure came in handy.”

“How long have those been in there.”

“I'd say a-a few months.”

A few months probably meant they'd been in there since that time you two went to the beach. You checked your now sandaled foot, giggling at the dramatic size differences between your foot and the sandal. “Hmm, I guess this means I'm not Cinderella; the slipper doesn't fit. That's a good thing because prince charming is so not my type.”

When he stood back up, he wondered. “Then what is y-your type?”

You'd think he'd by now that you had never been crazy about guys. Sure, in your teen years you had your random crushes on the guys in your art and science class, but nothing specific came to mind as to why they were appealing to you; you had other more activities which kept you happily diverted. And now, taking in the sharp lines of his suit, and eager want of understanding, you felt your heart flutter as it did when he was especially attractive to you. It wasn't so much in his appearance but in the feelings you had when light-hearted, casual sweetness flitted across the lines of romanticism; when smart, witty repartee translated to golden words, soft touches, and knowing. But to Rick, he needed both the conscious and unconscious understanding; the affirmation that you held him in high regard. “That's a good question Ricky. You know it's not goblin kings or fire-breathing dragons who are cursed princes in disguise, neither is it swimsuit models, or rock stars, and never villains. Honestly, I didn't know I had a type until I met someone who challenged the conventional rules.”

With raised brow, he shifted his weight to his other foot, pleasantly intrigued. “Is th-that so?”

Why the smartest man in the universe had to doubt the validity of his place in your heart and skeptical when varying parties voiced conflicting opinions would perhaps be the ongoing mystery, but you dare not hurt him further. “It is. I like people who are comforting, who can cook and garden. Maybe they'll tell me silly stories, and make me tea before they say goodnight. Being multilingual never hurt, and if they have a cute stutter, they might as well kill me with cuteness when paired with darling buck teeth. Hmm, reminds me of a certain mountain king I knew once upon a dream. Though the only difference between him and you is that he was very lonely, and as for you, I hope you'll never have to be again.”

You looked up at him, with cheeks flaming after this sort confession, finding that your usual open affections were a mix teasing and simple flirtations, but you looked away from his burning, but altogether odd gaze of his since your heart beated wildly in your chest from it; for a great deal of the time, you two were very casual with one another as you had been when you were just friends. Zeta-7 stepped closer, and put his hand under your chin and lifted your face to look at it keenly. “With you,” he smiled protectingly before he pressed a kiss on your forehead. “I-I-I never will be.”

You certainly hoped so. “Rick, I think it's getting late. Should we call it a night?”

“Are y-you tired?”

“Not in the slightest. Why? Feeling like an adventure?”

“Not exactly, but can I take y-you somewhere?”

“Sure. As long as you're there, then I don't mind.”

_______________

You snuggled into his side, trying to steal as much warmth as you could. “Since when did you have a hammock?”

“Since th-this morning. Do you like it?”

“I love it. Especially since it gives me an excuse to just come over and chill in the backyard. Maybe do a little bird watching, flirt with the gardener. You know.”

“Gosh, y-you can come over whenever you want. Mi casa es s-su casa. Remember?”

His home was your home? Well, you always felt it was in a way. As ever there was a feeling of unchangingness about the night sky, and with you two returning to the general lazy routine that was as delightful as it was elusive, you wondered how you were going to convince yourself to leave the comfort of his arms. You were happy that he chose to allow tonight's events go, and focus on the good parts, but while things changed at a steady pace, there were moments like this and in between, like at the ice cream shop which made you conscious of his want of family; of intimacy; of closeness to chase away all the lonely shadows which were always around the corner. You owed him a great deal, and honestly, you were in want of those things too. “I'm happy that you say that Rick,” you answered matter of factly. “because I can't wait for the day when it really is. Well, whenever you're home is ready to receive me.”

The hand which had been absentmindedly rubbing your arm stopped. And again, you heard him sniffle as was typical when he was emotional, and his heart was beating a little fast. You sincerely hoped you wouldn't hurt him with all this excitement. And when he calmed a little, he turned his body to face you, smiling softly at this possibility. “I-I-I look forward to that day too.”

________________

Pots and pans are moved around, and he began to make his special brew. Unlike the mediocre ingredients which you had in your home, Zeta-7 had some of the freshest, and most potent herbs and spices which could be found in this part of the world. If you hadn't known better you'd say they were brought straight from India, and then to your surprise, he proceeded to tell you that they were, and how he regularly visits when he can. With delight, he tells of the exotic culture, of its people, the food, and the points of interest that would never be found in travel pamphlets; painting scenes and landscapes.

Like always he knew how to match your mood to a flavor, and give you just what you needed. From the cabinets, and from the pantry he retrieved what he needed, and lined them up on the counter. Whole cloves, green cardamom pods, cinnamon sticks, which he breaks into pieces, freshly chopped ginger, ground nutmeg, white peppercorns, star anise, and loose black tea. Soon, the air was full of spices, and the Masala Tea was near completion; it was your favorite and made you think of many other similar times when you two sat together over tea to discuss many a topic which was suitable to talk about in the evening. With care, Rick poured his concoction into your new mug, and he poured his into a Shoney's mug and lightened both with milk, and sweetened them with honey. With the spoon he used to stir, he tasted it to be sure, then held it out to you. “I hope it's t-to your liking.”

“You know it always is, for you know what I like.” The first sip is heavenly, and you sigh happily as he watches you in amusement. “Rick, what's so funny?”

He holds your gaze for a moment, before he chuckles. “It's a-a secret.”

You stuck out your tongue, but he doesn't relent and goes on to drinking his tea. Zeta-7 can be a tease when he wanted to be, but he isn't so unkind as to not apologize. “I'm sorry, I-I-I don't mean to offend you or anything, but I'd love to make it up to you if you'd let me. I um - I got something for you.”

Pulling several small boxes from his inner suit pockets, which were definitely bigger in the inside, he handed them to you. “When I was on Mars last month, I saw a few things that reminded me of you. Do you want t-t-to know what they are?”

“Rick, you didn't have to do this. You spoil me enough as it is, but I would like to know.”

“Gosh, I wanted t-t-to do it. After all, y-you are my favorite.”

“I better be.” you winked. “Should I open it now?”

“If y-y-you want to. I hope y-you will like them.”

”

Taking a deep breath, you carefully unwrapped the sparkly gift paper and opened the first box which had a precious rose quartz apple brooch that you had only seen on TV. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Almost. Y-you see, on Mars, they manufacture a-a lot of - many similar products which you could find on Earth, except they tend t-to be more technological. This, for example, was originally made t-to act as a decorative cooling device for those really hot Martian days, but I modified it t-to do this.”

Cupping your hands with his, you gasped as it warmed your hands, and an inner calm took over you. He continued. “It'll calm you down any time you feel overwhelmed, and it doubles as a-a hand warmer. All y-you have to do is think good thoughts, and it'll magnify them.”

Unable to see where the hidden technology and mechanisms were, you wondered. “Is it magic?”

“Hohoho, if y-you want it to be. I-I-I know you don't - don't always like how you're meds make y-you feel and I wanted you to be able to be comfortable. And it'll come in handy when winter comes a-around.”

Trying it for yourself, it made you wonder as it soothed you if he had used properties from those empathic plants that existed on the planet with the ioculus and giant flowers. Who knows, but it felt wonderful, like a balm for your soul. Opening the next box, there was a hair clip in the shape of a puppy dragon. “Oh my goodness,” you gasped. “this is just too precious. Rick, what did you…how did you... ”

“I-I know how much you love them. It's not like th-the real thing, but it's c-cute isn't it?”

You didn't hesitate to clip it on your hair, feeling your smile growing. “Its freaking adorable. Sweet, sweet cookie man, please tell me they make other jewelry with similar designs.”

“Hohoho, they do but th-they sort of double as weapons. The hair clip can only summon them when th-they are within range of-of course.”

“What if I wanted to be queen of the puppy dragons? You never know, maybe I'm a dangerous woman. I can be ferociously adorable. When I want to be.”

Zeta-7 seemed to be considering this idea, and you had to poke him to make him realize you had simply been joking; mostly joking. The last box which laid on your lap was a bit heavier, and there were several layers of holographic tissue paper you had to peel away before you finally saw what it was. You felt tears prick at the back of your eyes sight of it; a miniature glass terrarium necklace, with a shrunken sunflower that had an iridescent shimmer on its petals.“You couldn't have bought this. Did you make it?”

“I-I did for the most part. That's a hybrid sunflower that can only be found on the Citadel, and I used metals that can rival gold and silver in its durability. It's - I-I-I could go into the mechanics of it, but I-I think that would ruin the surprise. M-mi corazón, if-if you look inside you'll see what I-I see when I think of you.”

Staring at it intently, it took a retina scan to verify the user, and then you saw clips of his memories of you. You saw yourself from his perspective, dancing around him while wearing your hello kitty pajamas; of you all sniffly and sick on the couch; that time you had flour on your cheeks after your failure in baking; of you blowing kisses; of you fast asleep amongst all the plants of his conservatory; of your joy as you pointed to things from the ferris wheel; of your hands as you touched up his makeup on his arms; of painting; of your tears and surprise; of huddling for warmth; of feeding his turtles; of you standing in the rain, drenched from head to toe; of you handing him clover; of your right above him, tickling and kissing him in the grass; of your Rick cosplay; of you standing in the half light of the moon; as a princess, confused as to who was who as you stepped into the ballroom; of hundreds of butterflies shielding you; trying to hide a shameless amount of candy; of you commanding plants to your will; of you sitting on the ground with a scraped knee and mess of Doritos and very surprisingly of you as a child handing him a rose from your father's garden before it all faded away. “I can't believe this.” you gasped, looking away in favor of Rick. “You've met me before?”

Scratching the back of his neck, he confessed sadly. “Yeah.”

“So when you said it wasn't the first time you waited for me, then what? You really did meet me as a child? In this dimension?”

“It's a-a long story. You probably wouldn't even remember.”

“Why didn't you say anything?”

“For very similar reasons as t-to why I had to wait in your dream. It's - I've known a-about you even before y-you were born, but that's - that's a-a different story for another day. As I said, it's a-a-a really long story, but I promise t-t-to tell you everything.”

He saw you grow up in real life and in a dream, he must have known about you for years. And yet, he waited. Why? That brought up so many other questions, but for now, you only considered him with a softer, deeper affection. “You're full of surprises aren't you? Always one step ahead of me. I'd say that's not fair, but I don't have a right to. You always have a good reason. You….you really do know me, don't you?”

Feeling warm lips on your temple, he chuckled. “N-n-not everything, but I like t-to try. I doubt anyone could know everything, but I- I like you. I-I-I know you could do better, but I just want you.”

“To think that all I wanted was for you to like me more.”

“Hohoho, I doubt I-I could like you less. Y-you're everything to me.”

Leaning down towards you, he captured your mouth in a firm kiss, and you tugged on his tie to bring him closer. He tasted like cardamom and promises, was everything and you couldn't think of a better way to end your date, but then to you disappointment, you heard the familiar sound of a portal and a couple of guard Ricks stepped through; their dimension numbers worn prominently on thier chests. “Yo ding dong, breaks over. They need you back in the lab pronto!” And when they fully stepped into the kitchen, they joked amongst themselves about how such a good for nothing Rick be capable of knowing what to do with a woman, let alone be so well acquainted with one.

Zeta-7 visibly winced at their laughter since they had come at an inopportune time, but for your sake tried to remain strong. “I-I-I guess our date really is over.”

“It was nice while it lasted.”

“Come on Doofus,” yelled the head guard. “we don't have all day. You can play with her later.”

“I'm - I'm sorry about this,” he whispered. “I sh-should have told you that there was a-a chance of being called into work.”

“Don't worry, I'm sure they need you for something really important. You know I'll be here when you come back. Don't you? I'll be fine, really I will be. Be careful Ricky. I love you.”

Pulling you into a tight hug, he was hesitant to let you go, but at the urging of his superior, he let go with a frustrated sigh, removed his suit jacket, and grabbed his lab coat and followed after them. Once gone, you cleaned up, and wiped down the counters and table. Seeing his jacket, and not wanting it to wrinkle, you picked it up and hung it in the hallway closet. Though, once it was hung, you noticed a slight bulge in one of the inner pockets. You had a feeling, though thinking it could possibly be otherwise, you reached down, and pulled out a box; a single glance to confirmed it. Zeta-7 had intended to make an honest woman out of you.

With shaky hands, you slipped it over your ring finger, and felt hot tears run down your cheeks; you had possibly ruined his opportunity to propose. When you felt that you had worn it for an inappropriate amount of time, you pulled it off and placed it back in the box; it wasn't yours yet. You two only wanted to make each other happy, but there would always be obstacles and peculiar incidents along the way. And this….you certainly hope he wouldn't change his mind and try again; whenever that time would be.

Fin

#doofus rick #doofus rick x reader #rick sanchez x reader #j19z7 #rick j19z7 #rnm fanfic #my writing #my works #i'm proud of this

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