#she brings out all the feelz

[greypetrel]

Last Resorts of Good Men - Aftermath

Who else wanted to hug Dorian after Last Resorts of Good Men, tho? I'm sure I'm not the only one, come on, and this scene lives in my head rent-free.

Some feelZ I wrote more extensively here, an extract under the cut!

It’s a couple of hours before Dorian gets out of the tavern, and finds Lavellan napping against the wall just out of the tavern’s door, sitting on a stool and propped against the white lime of the outer wall, tucked securely in her cloak and feet well planted on the sittee, nose and cheeks red from the cold.

“Hey, sleeping beauty, wake up…”

He shakes her delicately by her shoulder, meeting her eyes as she bats her lashes as she realises where she is and whom she’s looking at, just awake. Her eyes are red and a little puffy still, making her irises even greener than usual by contrast.

“What time is it?” She asks, groggily.

“Time for you to stop falling asleep in the snow, before your dashing Commander will have my head.”

“Mpf, it was only a nap.”

“I know, it’ll get me some good money on Varric’s poll. Come on.”

There is sarcasm and friendly teasing in the hole he leaves behind, raising up and reaching to fumble with the horse pasturer the elf has put on on both of the animals in the meanwhile. None of them fills the gap, tho, settling to work in silence, fitting in each other’s space automatically and not looking at the hole that’s still there. It’s the hug she didn’t give him in Skyhold nor in the day and a half of travel, it has the shape of Felix, putting them both at ease when they’re both to tired and upset to speak anymore. It’s the two hours that passed since Aisling left the two Pavus alone, and the incognita of the future. It’s the place they fit with each other with the ongoing rumour about them, and the fact that they’re by default unfounded, but by default they can’t be ignored. It’s the small, crucial, little chance one of them just had, and the small, crucial difference it painfully highlighted.

They walk out of the village still in silence, Aisling helping Dorian up cupping her hands without him asking, to offer a step closer to the saddle. He just nods in thanks, she oomphs when he steps on her hands, pushing him up. She mounts second, clicking her tongue to signal both horses to start. As it starts snowing lightly, she slips out her hood, pointing her nose up and breathing deeply.

The path needs to wind up an ill, running on the hilltop and looking out at misty valleys, grey and white all around dotted by black trees and still green conifers, before someone speaks again. And it’s Dorian.

“He says we’re alike. Too much pride.” He explains, words coming out slowly and heavily, and as she turns her head towards him, horses walking side by side, the snow falling too light to really pose a concern to be blocked down, his head is turned towards the hills, looking at everything and at nothing at all. “Once I’d been overjoyed to hear him say that, you know. Now… Now I’m not certain. I don’t know if I can forgive him.”

She knows when he’s faking a laughter, when he’s bitchy and snappy because he’s tired or upset or hungry, when he’s sincerely happy. She has never heard him this down, tho, and it clenches her heart painfully. She has a question on her tongue, about what and how, but it can wait until later. Not now, not here.

“Are you all right?” Is all she can ask, now, delicately.

“No.” He sighs, deeply. “Not really.”

He turns towards her, pulling the reins to bring the horse closer. With little success, and it’s mostly the elf who needs to slower and manoeuvre a little to pull them side by side, as much as it’s possible.

“Thank you for bringing me out here.” He continues, looking at her, finally. “It’s not what I expected but… It’s something. Maker knows what you must think of me now, after that whole display…”

He snorts, the deprecating irony still something to patch the hole that’s still there. But it’s just them, out there, no one around to see them or mind two random travellers on the road. So, she can stretch a hand, making grabby motion to beckon him on. He huffs, shaking his head but still grabbing her hand, a little unsurely.

“I think you have a huge heart that you don’t get yourself credit for, and that you’re very brave.” She replies, squeezing his fingers to underline it.

“Brave?”

“It’s not easy to abandon tradition and to walk your own path, is it.”

A pause, he doesn’t reply, just motions to let go of her hand, but she doesn’t follow it, still letting them hang between them. It’s not so comfortable, on horseback, but she cares little, leaning a little on the side against him, as much as she can without Walter mistaking it for a command. Luckily the fourier isn’t the brightest of horses, or the more attuned with her, and doesn’t veer.

“I wouldn’t have made it, in your place, and… I’m sorry, about before.”

“What for?”

“I didn’t push you to do anything you didn’t want, did I?”

“You horrible person, push me to do what?” “To bridge a gap you maybe didn’t want to cross. I… I never wanted to know my mother’s name.”

There’s another pause, and Aisling is the one, now, to look away, words coming out of her mouth automatically.

“It’s not to… Take the attention away, I swear, it’s just…” She huffs, shrugging her shoulders. “Some Dalish clans don’t accept more than three mages. The Keeper, the First and the Second apprentices. If another child shows magic, they’re either adopted by other clans, or… or left in the woods. That what happened to Minaeve, she was lucky to be found and brought to a Circle. I was luckier, the Lavellans had just a First apprentice, and I was adopted by them. I didn’t speak for two months, when I realised that my mother didn’t follow me. Sometimes parents cross the clans as well, but mines… Didn’t.”

It's Dorian’s turn to squeeze her fingers, and she cracks a smile, squeezing back at the gesture.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore. But… I don’t know, I think it must count as something that your father came all the way down here to see you. That he actually looked for you and tried to fix it. But I hope I didn’t push you, did I? Maybe you didn’t want to, and that’s-“

“How do you- What- Can you maneuvre the mega-fauna some more??” He grumbles, now tugging at her hand and flapping the reins about, frowning at the horse.

Aisling giggles, asking what he wants to do, and devising a plan that just makes him fumble with uneasiness and worry, as she slips her feet away from the stirrups and carefully, cooing at the horses, steps from one to the other to sit in front of the Tevinter, with both her legs dangling on the side of poor, good Gwinevere and snaking her arms around Dorian’s torso. He grumbles a little that this seems like a much dangerous situation and they’re both gonna break their necks in a very stupid death, but as she squeezes him, laughing and promising him some riding lessons, he hugs her back, holding tight. It’s long overdued and none of them let go, settling against the other more comfortably: it’s just them, out there, no one’s rushing them over, no one’s watching or spreading rumours, they can just be, and fill the hole of before together.

“It’s ok. You’re not alone, you know?” She whispers, rubbing circles on his back as she feels him shivering.

He snorts, and hugs her tighter nevertheless, shaking his head a little -his moustaches tickle her cheek, making her giggle again.

“Look at you, already catching on the road of perdition of Dalish scandalous nonchalance about physical contact…” She teases, just to lighten the mood a little, but far from letting him go. Oh, she has needed a hug herself since she woke up on the mountain, cold as hell, under her weight in pelts, and with a dislocated shoulder she was forbidden to move, and she’s not letting go before he does.

“It’s definitely all your fault, you see, your mushiness is contagious. Mother was never a hugger either...” It’s self-derogatory again, but this time there’s no Vivienne to shoo her away, nor distance or holes that need to be filled.

“Mh, lucky I’m here to give all the hugs you’re owed, then…”

“Lucky indeed…”

They stay there for some more, the horses deciding to stop on their own, the snow giving them privacy and silence. It’s been the week, and none is really in a hurry to get back and put up masks again. But just for here, and now, they can let everything go and just breathe and exist. For once, it’s not Aisling the first to start crying.

[tansu-bomb]

Yeong x Uk | Flash fiction: Immortal

The sight of Uk’s sleek waist chain drove Yeong crazy. Her fingers itched to loosen his robes and trace patterns on the skin beneath. She felt consumed by a deep incomprehensible yearning as she wrapped her arms around his waist from behind and heard his breath catch.

The young man she had met four years ago was mortally hot but the man before her now was immortally sexy.

He was warm then. He was icy fire now.

In the year that they once spent together, she had gradually realized that fighting her feelings for him was moot. In the breaths that they once shared, every particle of her soul and every cell of her body had felt alive — alive like it had never been before. She felt the same even now. Yeong smiled softly into his back as she held him tighter, allowing the memory of his kisses to return…allowing the stupid butterflies to crowd her insides.

“No one but my wife is allowed this close to me”, Uk said unmoving, his deep voice thrumming in her veins and rousing a fire in her. She let an arm slide down until she wrapped her fingers around his hand, the one that was still holding onto her sheathed sword. She channeled a fraction of her energy outward, making their sword vibrate and glow. “Then turn around and look at her”, she replied saucily.

“I’ve finally found you after three years. If I turn around now, I won’t hold back at all — not from touching you, not from kissing you, not from loving you”, he said, angling his face backwards and drawing her arms closer until she was tightly plastered to his back. Did he just make a breathless promise sound like a threat, Yeong mused as her heart continued to beat out of control.

He moved suddenly and just as she started to protest the sudden loss of warmth, he turned around and caught her by her waist, bringing her back against him. He looked his fill, the translucent moonlight filtering into the room lending a soft glow to her features. “Yeong-ah” he whispered lovingly, calling her by her name for the first time as he caressed her cheek.

There was a cocktail of longing and lust swirling in his eyes which she was sure was mirrored in her own. She leaned forward to taste his lips just as he slid his caressing hand down until he intertwined her fingers with his. It was the first time she felt an arousing touch in her own skin and her body reacted like dry wood to flame. He robbed her of her breath as their kiss deepened, her lips responding to his as if that’s all it knew how to do.

——————————————————

{ PS1: Plot, you ask? What Plot? Just fluff & feelz inspired by Uk/Yeong posters }

{ PS2: I am super new to writing fiction/romance. Please be gentle; your comments are most welcome. }

[asfixiafloral]

In my Anna x Johan feelz today. But I wanna imagine a scenario where shit doesn't go bad. Johan does leave Anna with the Fortners but somewhere down the line, they have a fated encounter and meet. She doesn't recognize him but they become friends. Hang out a lot. Johan feels at peace. How would this go you think?

🌿OffChara🌿

Oh this is such a wonderful ask dude, thank you so much for bringing this up. I think about multiple different scenarios everyday, where thinks could've gone better and this is definitely one of them.

Johan is just extremely pleased to be close to her, to talk to her one on one, to be able sit next to her in class. To be able to relate to her in some ways. whether it be books, or class related subjects... he's just happy to be able to be a part of her life so he works hard on building a relationship with her. Imagining how he feels when Anna asks him if he's free after school, she looked nervous asking because all her friends had told her that Johan Liebert never accepts any girl's invitation to go out.

"You don't have to if you don't want to... I know you're a busy guy and..." Anna was starting to ramble and Johan thought her nervousness was very endearing.

"Of course, where are we going?" He smiled and loved the look on her face. She doesn't know she's the only one he'd ever go out with.

"Oh!" Anna looks surprised, she looks behind her were her friends jaws are dropped in shock, probably even burning with jealousy "I... we can go get some lunch... maybe go to the library?"

"I'd love to, Nina"

And you know what I also think that they become really close, and eventually and naturally Anna falls in love with him. How could she not? He treats her like royalty, respects her. She loves being around him. She's acknowledged her feelings for him, this is the first time she's felt anything like this. And he knows he loves her too, she's everything he always wanted. He just wants Anna back.

But it's extremely complicated. He hasn't even showed his face to the Liebert's, will they recognize him? Would she want him to meet her parents? Would he date her? He'd want to stay with her forever. But what if she finds out? She'd never forgive him. It'll just make things worse. What if they move to a different country? Get married. He can tell her he's unable to have kids. They can adopt. He's thinking of all these possibilities, consequences, scenarios. Anything to make their future together possible.

He wants to allow himself to enjoy the thought of being romantically involved with her but... he doesn't want to hurt her. Johan is stuck, he can't decide. Either he lets her go, or takes her for himself. The more he gets involved with her, the more he never wants to let her go.

Yeah. He's not letting go. He'll take the risk and kiss her tenderly, just like he always wanted.

[ashmerra]

10 facts about meri for the ask meme? :0

:0  :D  Yes!!!  Thank you ma dude!!

1.  She found an ancient Falmer coin while exploring a ruin as achild.  She considers it a good luckcharm and holds onto it throughout her adventures in Cyrodiil.

2.  She’s really interested in old weaponry and artifacts, andcould go on and on about their craftsmanship and beauty.  

3.  She’s tall.  And Imean TALL.  She’s taller than Martin andall the Blades.  Taller than HighChancellor Ocato (I headcanon him as shorter anyway), Count Janus Hassildor,etc, etc.  Mankar Camoran is taller thanher, though.

4.  She makes little wood carvings in her spare time.  She used to sell them in the Imperial Citybefore the whole prison thing.

5.  Her birthday is in Evening Star, but she doesn’t know whichday, only that’s it’s in the 20s.

6.  As a little girl she met Uriel’s son Enman Septim while hewas touring Skyrim.

7.  She does NOT like getting double crossed.

8.  Meri never got to dress up or feel pretty as a child.  After destroying the Great Gate, CountessCarvain threw a celebration for the Cloud Ruler heroes and co.  One of her Blade Sisters Helped her get adress and do her hair.  She cried whenshe saw herself in the mirror.

9.  The Mages Guild knows her family’s history with the Guild,(Arch-mage Taris Rendil was her great-uncle,) so she’s allowed a lot of freedomthere even without being a member.

10.  She wasn’t ready for this whole Hero thing.

[shepard-ram]

Ambassadors Work [Hc!Reader & Tommy, Tubbo, Ranboo]

(P!Hurt/comfort, Request: I love your work so much, whenever i get in the feelz i like to read ur work to make me happy 😊. Can write smth about dsmp and hc meet or reader coming from hc and making dsmp meet her home(hc)?)

(I am beyond happy you can find comfort in my work!! This was an interesting one to write. Also this takes place sometime before dream got bonked into jail, and before the Hcbbs showed up. Sidenote: I know you used she/her pronouns in your request, but I try to keep things gender neutral by default- avoiding pronouns altogether when possible. Sorry if this doesn't fit what you wanted but the only thoughts I had were from my anons)

(Yes, this has become my fix-it comfort from someone's death.)

[Part 2 -New Day Brings New faces]

[End Busting -side episode]

----------

You had always tried to stay informed on the world outside of the server you called home. Sometimes it felt like you spent more time off world than in your base, but you took pride in your knowledge of "foreign affairs" as you joked.

Naturally when you heard rumors of the events happening on a server called The Dream Smp it yelled for your attention. With some of the most famous fighters going off to join, only for a few to come back and immediately leave again after Mcc. The last person to leave was a certain ram hybrid, and he was apparently called back to give an endorsement in an election. To say you were curious when he didn't return would be an understatement.

Eventually you got the chance to visit on behalf of the Hermits. While they were worried to see you go by yourself, you had proved that you could handle yourself just fine. When the time came to cross the threshold, a few of the hermits including your admin escorted you up to the green portal. You were the only one whitelisted, they couldn't go through even if they tried. With one last goodbye, a promise to return by the next day, and a deep breath you stepped into the unfamiliar world.

The servers namesake admin was there to greet you. His image wasn't new to you, many outside the Smp knew his trademark mask. You agreed to a tour of the smp with him, after all you didn't come here with a notebook to not learn about the server.

-----

Which ring of hell was this?

That and other similar thoughts rose up again and again over the course of your little history lesson. At first you tired to rationalize it with the fact you used to Hermitcraft. It was just culture shock. When you live in a server filled with mega bases, industrial farms, a thriving economy, wings and boxes taken from the end you're going to think this is bad, to say the least.

Yet the more you were shown, the more you were told, the more people you talked to, you knew this wasn't just you being spoiled. It was practically all war, violence and mistrust. As much as the events shook you, it was the people who put pin after pin through your heart.

Then you had your braking point; three boys, not even adults yet having been put through some of the worst the server had to offer. An enderman hybrid clutching a book so tightly, a teenage president with a scar sealing his right eye shut, and a broken revolutionary with a ghost for a brother.

You knew you had to do something, if you could help anyone you were going to help them. When you saw them you instantly started forming a plan. When night fell you found them and offered this plan. They were hesitant to say the least, but you kept talking. Stories and promises of your home, and a deal that they could return anytime they want and eventually they were sneaking back to spawn with you.

They stayed much closer to each other than to you, but that wasn't a concern for you right now. The only thought going through your mind was getting back to the portal. With one last sprint to the gateway you didn't look back as you followed the boys, ready to guide them to a much better place.

-----

It was almost sunrise by the time you returned. Hermitcrafts portal was connected to the nether portal under town hall. As the boys got their first look at your home bathed in orange sunlight, wide eyed awe covered their faces. You smiled as gestured to the island,

"Welcome to Hermitcraft!"

"Were exactly are we?" Tubbo asked while staring at the diamond trees.

"Our shopping district," You informed with pride. "Almost anything you can think of is sold here. No one steals, and no one messes with shops beyond maybe changing a sign."

Tommy was about to ask "Really?" before Ranboo exclaimed apon stepping back to look behind you.

"What is that?!" He was looking at town hall, the diamond throne clearly in view.

"The diamond throne." You watch as the other two looked back, sharing his wonder. "To build a shop you have to spend some diamonds on the plot of land, you add you payment here."

"What do you do with all of them?"

"Well they are technically Scars, he's our mayor. Great guy- he decides how to use them for the district. There's usually not much to spend them on though so they kinda just sit there." You knew you'd have alot more explaining to do.

From there you took them on a tour of the district, as well as pointing out the bases you could see from the shore. You had also gave a briefing on the Turf war as they asked about the warehouse and mushroom castle of an Headquarters. By the end of it the four of you sat back on the steps of town hall.

As the sun started to fully rise you realized just how little sleep you all had gotten, haven woke them up in the night to leave the Smp. As nice as it would be to have them awake when you told the Hermits what you had seen, you didn't do anything as they fell asleep on the less than comfortable stairs.

You tried to fight your own rest. Wanting to be able to explain everything, but as one of the boys leaned against you (You weren't sure who at this point) you couldn't help but close your eyes. They were finally safe, and for now that was more than enough.

[kuekyuuq]

At this point, I see things regarding Supercorp this way...

(Mxaybe... in another universe... *sighs*)

My head-canon for the show:

Lena had a crush on Kara since day one and vice versa. She tried to deny it, deny herself the ‘luxury’ of personal attachment... but Kara was quite persistent, and cute, and sweet, and warm, and such a dork, and... yeah... Lena got confused when she developed similar feelings for Supergirl, and then her disagreements with Supergirl caused her to not-like her anymore, but still felt physically attracted to her - damnit. Since oblivious Kara did not respond properly to her flirts (and they both verbally friend-zoned each other), Lena resigned to gaze and long for her in secret, thinking Kara was straight. Neither her short and tragic re-encounter with Jack - an unresolved comfort from her own past - nor her sudden enemies-to-lovers thing with James (Kara's ex of all people) could quite quench her craving for Kara's closeness and warmth or her verbal tension-filled jab-throwing matches with Supergirl. After the reveal, Lena was more hurt over her 'friend' betraying her trust, keeping a secret from her (yes, that's a double-standard, Lena! ...girl's got deeply rooted issues) than 'Supergirl' using her alter-ego to take advantage of Lena (which, hands down, Kara actually did on some occasions - so, ironically that one would have been objectively valid, but, hey, feelz shape our perspectives). She went through her lashing-out phase, only to realize she can't live without Kara in her life. And really wants to do good. Yes, that too... ...and it only took her trying to brainwash the whole world (good intentions and the road to hell) and Lex back-stabbing her a couple of times, to see the light and join the good guys for good... to be more like Supergirl, in her own small way...? Y'all know what I mean ^_- She came crawling back, continues to try hard to prove herself worthy, longingly watching on every time Kara and Alex hug, desperate to keep her sunshine-impersonated in her life, whom she truly loves, despite how much she tried to convince herself she did not...

...

Meantime, Kara is an alien (yes, I bold that, bc, people tend to not think this through). From a totally different culture and all, having suffered great trauma and entering Earth's culture during her puberty/informative years. A Kryptonian who crushed for Humans (males - James, Adam - and apparently 4 other dudes she broke the noses of when kissing) and other aliens (Daxamite Mon-El) ...uh, and even couldn't stop herself admitting how she likes how nice Lucy (female Human) smells (the most prominent other time such a statement was made, was when everybody was swooning over Kal). Who only in her adulthood realized homosexuality was even a real option, outside of high-schoolers slurring at each other. (And I am not saying, Kara is gay, as in lesbian... she incidentally spoke true when she denied that in the pilot. Repeat after me: “Kara is an alien.” ..I’d call her pan, but am also aware, that the textbook definition doesn’t include ‘all species’... so.... there’s that.) Kara, who so desperately hard tried to fit in, she got absolutely used to others telling her what she's supposed to feel and think.

...who crushed hard for Lena at first sight (possibly, also star-struck). But both Clark and Alex, her most important people to look for help, guidance and reference, told her any Luthor was bad news.

There was Mon-El, whom she didn't even like, at first. When he lied told her he wasn't in love with her, she was utterly relieved. She was all “Oh, golly. That’s unexpected and awkward. What now?!” when he confessed to her, and tried (and failed) to let him down gently. (I am actually convinced, that Kara was more ego-hurt, that he moved on to Eve so quickly, and.. where she and James ended things once Lucy was out of the picture, Kara only started thinking/feeling differently about Mon-El when he was taken... just sayin’ I maybe spot a pattern there.) But, Alex told her, that she had a thing for Mon-El and that she should give him a shot... ...even when Lena got involved with Cadmus, and Kara found herself passionately defending the youngest Luthor against ALL her friends, when she could not explain her bone-deep trust in Lena but by "I can see it in her eyes" and other instinctually tainted expressions... Well, she and Mon-El made it work, they were actually a sweet couple when they weren't butting heads... Didn't stop Kara from having mixed feelings when Lena ran into her ex. And yes, Kara did mourn Mon-El. If only for the concept of what they had together, but I do think, she did feel love for him... Me thinks, Kara would be one of the people who simply can not separate physical and emotional. So by kissing and sleeping with him, stronger emotional attachments came to be. Not to invalidate them, but... personal history is important.

....long story short, Kara kept trying not to stand out. Lived and loved on the safe-side, hurt one too many times by circumstance. And yet kept feeling drawn to Lena, kept trusting her, kept wanting to reveal herself to her - despite what everybody else said. But, emotionally and 'culturally' on the safe side.

Kara friend-zoned herself.

The reveal happened and... Lena HURT her and Kara STILL kept her hope and trust up... and while towards the end of it, being incredibly hurt and worn out, she still let Lena back in. And within 24h decided that Lena came through enough times and Kara was ready to accept her apology...

And then Lex happend (again) and Phantom Zone...

Now...

[*] My head-canon for RL:

Katie is such a natural flirt, that even though the SG writers (after introducing both Lena and Mon-El to the show) have been told "no gay Supergirl" by the CW in 2017, Melissa just never knows what hit her...

Director: "CUUUT!" Melissa: "--...wait, what? I'm married. I mean... huh?" Melissa: "Wait! We have to redo that! We were told, not to-" Katie: "To what?" Melissa: "...uh, the Supercorp-thing... you know... the heart-eyes?" Katie: "What heart-eyes?" *raises an eyebrow the typical Katie-way* Melissa: "...the... um.... you..." Katie: "Wait, did you-..?" Melissa: "Me!? Oh, no. I am married!" Katie: "What has that to do-... Are you okay?" Melissa: "Yes!" Katie: "Okay, then." *Katie swaggers off stage & hi5s one of the writers on her way out* Melissa: "...darn it." *calls Chris* "Honey, I love you." Chris: "...it happened again?" Melissa: "..." *Chris starts laughing* Melissa: "...so not funny."

So, yeah, that's where I am at. Kara friend-zoned herself and Lena is totally mush for the Girl of Steel. ...and Katie is just being Katie :)

Also, I am currently 99% sure Supercorp will not be endgame. But I would be 100% pleased to be proven wrong.

[* In all seriousness, do not bash on the actors, please. They are just doing their jobs, have a life and family, real relationships and feelings. So, my above 're-enactment' is completely fictional, purely for light-hearted entertainment and not meant to do any harm or spread any hate or to be actually transcribed onto the actual, real people. We do not really know these people! They - and the writers, too - do bring characters to life that we invest in - for that they deserve our gratitude. My gut feeling (or shipper-heart feeling?) is, they are doing their best to sneak Supercorp in whenever they can - not to bait, but because they may actually not be allowed (yet..?) to make SC text but see the same chemistry we do. Have fun, but be respectful, please! We can disagree with the CW's executive decisions - although, we do not really know what’s going on bts - and express our dismay, but do not in all seriousness spread hate.]

[mysterytickingegos]

I’ve Created a Monster

Pairing: Darkiplier x Clairvoyant!Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2,480

Summary: After a bad date, you made a rather interesting friend. But better yet, you discovered something just as interesting about yourself. This something leads to a very exhilarating part of your life, but you learn the hard way that it’s not quite as glamorous an adventure as it may seem. The last person you’d expect is the one to bring you back to reality.

Anonymous Request: If I may request! :) Can I have a darkiplier x fem!reader fic with the prompts 37, 44, 45? After the events of wkm? Just some hurt and comfort to give me dem feelz 😀👍 Maybe Dark is the one saying it please? Much thanks!

Authors Note: Probably not what you were going for with the prompts but I hope you still enjoy it!

Want to read more?

[Image Description: A Gif of Darkiplier from the “horror” branch of “A Date with Markiplier,” speaking to the viewer at a table, while another image of him leans away and yells. End Description]

Junk mail, bill, wrong address, junk mail...

The usual. You weren’t sure what ‘cool thing’ you were expecting to get in the mail in 2020 but the disappointment was there anyway. Just as you shut your mailbox you heard somebody coming down the stairs and cringed, bracing yourself as you hoped it wasn’t who you thought it was. But of course it was.

Your upstairs neighbor, AKA the worst date ever. “Ah, hey Y/n.”

“Hi Mark...” You gave him a sad attempt at a wave, and he gave you a nod, walking over to his own mailbox.

‘How’s it going?”

“Great, yeah...you?”

“Good.”

And with that the room dissolved into awkward silence, and you took your leave back up the stairs. Funny enough these moments used to be filled with dumb jokes and flirting, that was until he finally asked you out. You had been overjoyed, happy that someone had taken an interest in you and glad that something was breaking your dull everyday routine. Little did you know the highlight of the date would be the end. He had taken you to an expensive restaurant only to reveal that he had ‘forgotten’ his wallet (which ended up falling out of his pocket in front of you in the theater.) Then he had been upset with you for accidentally falling asleep to what must’ve the most boring Rom-com you had ever been subjected to. You both seemed to be in silent agreement that this should never, ever happen again.

But unbeknownst to you and Mark, somebody else had been lingering around. That was the first time that specific somebody had decided to visit you, making a sucky date the least of your concerns. You spent the rest of your night watching compilations on YouTube and eating chocolate Ice Cream. You kept going from sad to angry over your horrible day in your head.

Were you only worth asking out for a free meal? A meal that for you took about half your grocery budget. You should’ve given that ass a piece of your mind.

You sniffed, wiping your eyes and scarfing down even more ice cream. “Damn it.”

“Aw, don’t cry, darling. It wasn’t that bad.”

You screamed and nearly jumped out of your skin, scrambling away from the man now next to you on the couch. The moment your feet hit the ground you grabbed your phone and locked yourself in your bedroom. “Who the fuck are you?!”

“Let’s say I'm a... friend of a friend. I thought I’d check up on you after that train wreck.” He spoke through the door. You heard a laugh layer over his voice, and wondered if somebody else was there.

“I’m calling the police!” You shouted back.

Then you heard the same voice just in front of you, clearly amused with the situation. “You’re welcome to do so, though I’m not sure they’d believe you.” It was the same man from the couch, smiling at you. You noticed how he seemed to be glitching, and how as his head tilted to the side his figure had duplicated in blue for a split second. “As I’m sure you can tell by now, I’m not exactly human.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I’d like to get to know you, Y/n. Is that so much to ask?”

The first few nights that you had stayed up a little too late and wound up speaking that deranged spirit again, you had been terrified. But soon enough you learned to enjoy his company. Sure, he could be a little unsettling at times, particularly when he was irritated and got...cold. Not just figuratively, which he was, but literally. The temperature in your apartment would drop a significant amount and you would change subjects shivering. But all in all, from what you could see behind that wall he had up, he was simply lost at worst, not exactly evil. And it was nice to not have to be so lonely all the time.

But during one of these visits, early on, you had decided to ask why.

“Why me, of all people?”

The man you had come to know simply as ‘Dark’  leaned in, lighting up as though he had been waiting on you to ask that this entire time. “Oh, Y/n. Don’t you know?”

“Why would I ask if I already knew?”

He let out an impatient sigh. ‘That’s...I was being...” He glanced up at you just in time to catch the smile playing at your lips after successfully ruining his aesthetic. “You know what? You can stay in the dark.”

“No no no, I’ll shut up, just tell me.” You turned to face him on the couch, tucking your legs under yourself.

He left you in suspense for a few moments, before dropping his voice down low when he spoke so you would have to lean closer in just to hear him. “Let’s just say you are...spiritually attuned to my world.”

“Spiritually attuned?”

“Yes, you are psychic, a medium, clairvoyant. Whatever you want to call it.” He explained. “You are a magnet to things outside the realm of the natural. A strange pair, aren’t we?”

And that was all it took, so many unexplained events from your past were now explained, and a world of possibilities was opened to you. You must’ve spent weeks researching how to harness your abilities, starting the second he left. Sure, most sites and blogs were absolutely full of it but you got the gist. With that and some common sense, how much could go wrong?

You started to take silly jobs on the internet, from old women who thought something was off with their mirrors to amateur ghost hunters who wanted a ‘consultant.’ It took you a while to gain some confidence that you weren’t just pulling this stuff out of thin air, that you hadn’t lost your mind. But after a few months, once you hit that learning curve, man it was fun.

Your latest job was a little more hardcore, a young family wanting help to push a poltergeist out of their new home. Their stories had chilled you to the bone, but you were happy to help. Your evaluation at the house went fine, nothing too far past what you were used to. Except, the entire time you were there you felt as though you had weight sitting on your chest. You could barely listen to the poor couple tell you what they experienced due to a faint scratching feeling at the back of your mind. You weren’t an expert yet but you could tell that whatever this thing was, it did not welcome you there. Worse yet, the feeling of being drained that the couple mentioned was certainly affecting you as well. Perhaps worse.

But all that accomplished was making you even more determined to rid the house of it. You took notes for your research later, tried to communicate in the most active part of the house (with no results,) and gave the couple the best advice you could at the moment.

“Until this thing is gone, it’s best you stay somewhere else.”

A few nights later, you had just finished packing your bag and begun heading for the door when you heard Dark just behind you. “Good evening, Y/n.” His voice was layered, followed by a subtle echo bouncing off the walls of your small apartment. When you turned to face him you saw he was already frowning, having realized you were on your way out. “Where are you off to so late?“

“I’m going to hang out with some friends. So I’m sorry, you’ll have to find some other way to entertain yourself tonight, instead of ya know, slowly but surely turning me into a nocturnal hermit.“ You joked, adjusting the tote bag on your shoulder.

He chuckled, bringing his hands behind his back. “I hate to break this to you my dear, but you were there well before we met.”

“Ha ha.” You turned to leave but were stopped short when you saw that he had apparated directly in front of you.

“What’s in the bag?” He asked, starting to reach for it curiously before you stepped back.

“Nothing.” You said, a little too quickly. “Just some party supplies, alright?”

He raised his brow, no longer amused. “...Convincing. Is it really so difficult to be honest with me?”

“Oh don’t even try and pull that card, you won’t even tell me why you’re haunting that jerk upstairs.”

His jaw clenched, and he looked away from you. “That’s different. Bringing such things to light would only do more harm than good.”

“Well, I may be wrong but...my thing is kinda the same. And I like what we’ve got going on so just let it go. Please?”

Dark stayed quiet, peeved off and clearly even more curious than he was before. Finally, he side-stepped out of your way, “Just be careful.”

When you got to the house, you were careful. Keeping lights on and keeping quiet while you did everything your research said you were supposed to. As you did, the spirit was also quiet, too quiet. And on your way home, you kept waiting for that heavy feeling on your chest to fade away.

Your apartment was freezing when you stepped out of the bathroom after your shower. Cold air brushed over your shoulders as you wrapped your arms around yourself. “Dark?” You called out, looking around for him. This wasn’t like him. He usually made you aware of his presence as soon as he showed up. You walked into your bedroom and when you locked eyes with another in the mirror, you froze.

This wasn’t like Dark, because it wasn’t him.

Instead, the person standing behind you was a very decrepit and very angry old woman, seemingly fading in and out of reality as she glared at you. “Y̸o̵u̶ ̴s̴h̷o̵u̶l̶d̸ ̸h̵a̵v̷e̷ ̵l̸e̴f̷t̶ ̷w̶e̶l̵l̶ ̸e̴n̵o̷u̶g̷h̶ ̶a̸l̶o̴n̸e̷.̴“

The mirror shattered and you whipped around to face her, but she wasn’t there. The air whirling around the place started to pick up, and picture frames flew off the wall at you, then other objects that had decorated your room. You tried to flee but your front door wouldn’t budge. You started to bang on it, crying in fear and praying that anyone would hear you. Next thing you knew though, you were flung towards the wall.

Finally, everything settled. The weight was off your chest, but there was plenty of pain there in it’s place. You slowly pulled yourself into a sitting position, then wiped the tears off your face with one hand and held the other over your ribs. You weren’t sure how long you sat there, waiting for something to happen and your heartbeat overpowered the ringing silence in your ears. You wanted to get your phone, to call for help but you were terrified of gaining attention again. You didn’t even really stop shaking until you heard a familiar voice.

“...Y/n?” Dark didn’t see you when he first showed up, just the disaster area that was your living room. Once had seen you, he was beside you in a blink of an eye. You didn’t even think about it before you wrapped your arms around him. He only gave you a moment of comfort before he pulled back, looking over you in concern. “What happened? Who hurt you?”

You couldn’t really get much out between pained wincing as he scooped you into his arms. “It was a -Ow- s-spirit.”

He laid you down on the couch as gently as he could, and you could see his face change from confusion to recognition to irritation. “Why, pray tell, would a spirit be here?”

“I may have taken a job to get rid of it...” You muttered under your breath.

“Unbelievable.” He shook his head, about to say something else before he stopped himself. Instead he moved his focus to your hand, moving it to reveal the dark bruise over your ribs.

“See, I knew you weren’t gonna like it.”

“You going off and messing with things you haven’t even begun to understand? Of course I don’t like it.” His figure glitched and layered itself in different colors before he got up and went to the kitchen.

You scoffed at his remark, trying to sit up. “Hey I understand more than you think, I’ve been doing this crap for months!”

He came back around the corner with an ice pack from your freezer in his hand. “Months?” He apparated in front of you, gently placing the pack down on the bruise, allowing you to squeeze his free hand until the shock wave from the pressure passed over you.

“I started looking into all this after you told me the truth.” You confessed. “I mean with the internet it wasn’t difficult, and I do my due diligence alright? I don’t know what went wrong.”

The aura behind him flashed pure red for just a moment, he approached his next words much softer than usual. “You can’t navigate things like this using the internet, Y/n.”

“Well I didn’t think you’d want to help me help everyone else get rid of their ghosts.”

He scoffed at you, beginning to raise his voice as the aura swapped back to blue. “You were right! I don’t understand why you would want anything to do with this, anyway. Why would you do this to yourself??” 

“I thought...I thought it’d be fun-”

“This isn’t a game!”

“You know I really don’t get you, why-”

“Of course you don’t! Do you even know what I am?”

“Well, no...”

“Neither do I.” He growled. His words truly sunk in once you saw the pain behind his eyes. He collected himself, taking a deep breath before continuing, “What I do know, is that I was human once. And people screwing with things that they shouldn’t have for selfish reasons is what turned me into this. Over the years I’ve had to see other terrible things happen to well meaning people. I’ll be damned if you throw yourself into the fire for fun.”

You nodded softly, breaking the intense gaze between you to look as your hands. “...Okay.” You opened your mouth to speak again after that, but decided against it.

“What is it?” Dark asked, trying and failing to hide the impatience in his voice.

“I just didn’t think...well I really didn’t think you’d care. Well, about this part I guess-”  You sighed, cutting yourself off this time, rather than rambling.

He was quiet for a moment, placing his hand under your chin and tilting your head up to look at him. “I care...more than you know.” It was the silence after that, that spoke volumes, and even more so the way he moved forward to press his lips to yours. “Now, if you’ll excuse me I have a poltergeist to take care of.”

[ooops-i-arted]

I am dying to know your thoughts on the S2 finale

I’m dead.  I’m dead I’m freaking dead

Overall absolutely loved it yessssssss, so good!

Mmmmm so much good rampaging and fight choreography yessss.  Personal favorites were Din versus Gideon because the cinematography was so gorgeous, Luke’s entrance because I am a lightsaber-loving girl, and Din versus the Dark Trooper because Din ilu but watching you thrown around like a ragdoll was simply hilarious

Also I don’t think Din getting repeatedly punched in the face was supposed to be funny but I was cackling

Also man, if he hated droids before imagine how he feels now

Also good cinematography:  I loved all the shots of the TIE fighters and the shuttle coming out of the whatever-they-called-it chute, beautifully framed shots.  This whole episode was really gorgeously shot

I am a simple girl.  I see Cara Dune shooting Space Nazis and then beating the living shit out of them, I receive serotonin

I feel similarly about Fennec Shand, she is amazing

Bo-Katan was the only downside to this episode because she’s an annoying bitch but her comeuppance was SO worth it.  HAHAHAHAHAHA NO DARKSABER FOR YOU AND IT’S RUBBED IN YOUR FACE HOW MUCH YOU DON’T DESERVE IT

Especially after talking to Boba like that, HOW DARE YOU SPEAK LIKE THAT TO A REAL MANDALORIAN YOU STUCK-UP COW

Okay I GUESS it made sense to bring her along, Din clearly knew what he was doing using her, but if you’ll allow me to be petty and snotty for a moment, I prefer appearances from REAL Star Wars characters not TCW nonsense

Speaking of which HOLY SHIT LUKE SKYWALKER HOLY SHIT LUUUUUUUUUKE LUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUKE

In an earlier post I said I didn’t want a Luke cameo I take it back it was beautiful even if the CGI was just a touch off but it didn’t ruin the moment at least for me Like for any other character that entrance would be overlong and overdrawn, but for Luke Fucking Skywalker?  He deserves it and it was amazing.

My sister and I were, once again, literally screaming at the tv.  And then we managed to stop, Artoo came out, and we started again.

(Lol you know Artoo was just sitting there going “There’s ANOTHER one of these green fuckers?!”)

Gideon is such a cool villain.  So crafty and clever and always doing his best to stay one step ahead with excellent monologuing and fighting skills and also he has STYLE.  As my sister put it “He reminds me of Dooku” and “I’m glad Disney has figured out how to do villains again.”  I’m very glad he’s not dead and I hope he comes back and continues to be nefarious.

Villain honorary mention to that asshole pilot (in a Lambda-class shuttle! loved seeing one again!) who decided to talk shit about Alderaan, Cara gets an A++ for shooting him for it (and for clocking Gideon later)

“I yield” I fuckin died

So like.... I’m sure Din would be a great Mand’alor, he’s compassionate and clearly has a knack for bringing people together and deeply cares about Mandalorian ways (with a little adjusting for accepting others’ Mandalorian ways) but.... does he want this?  Because he seems to just want to mind his own business.  Not rule a planet he’s never seen and doesn’t really have any investment in.

Anyway to the Big Moment, I think Grogu going with Luke was overall well-done.  Grogu’s consent is clearly valued by Luke, he’s not baby-snatching him or anything (which is not what the Jedi ever did anyway), and while Luke addresses Grogu directly mostly, he also respects Din’s decision as Grogu’s father.  Luke clearly takes what they both want into consideration.  And of course, Grogu won’t go unless Dad says it’s okay and to me at least (maybe because I watch these halfway into ACCPOV mindset anyway) I felt like Grogu had already come to the decision himself, that he was ready to go train but only if he had Din’s support to do so.  I AM CRY.

God you know Din was dying inside though.  ME TOO, BUDDY

Overall I feel Din starting to remove the helmet has been a little too...easy?  I guess?  I’m not sure exactly what I wanted out of it more but he seemed to turn around too quickly for me given how hardcore Din was about it before.  That aside, Din taking off his helmet to say good-bye to his son was a beautiful heart-wrenching moment and straight-up murdered me with feelz and I loved it.

Lol so was Cara just standing there thinking “You wouldn’t let me remove it for A FATAL HEAD INJURY but now it’s okay????”

It was bittersweet but it definitely didn’t feel like an end to me.  Luke talks about training Grogu; he’s certainly not replacing Din as his father or anything, and like I said seems to treat Din as Grogu’s father.  Din says “we’ll meet again.”  And ofc Baby Yoda and Din are Disney’s big marketing Thing right now.  This isn’t good-bye forever, just good-bye for now.

That said as a teacher I’m picturing Luke setting up Class Dojo and sending Din a link and immediately getting five billion messages a day

Also you know Grogu spends the entire trip to Jedi School telling Luke all about how awesome his daddy is.  At least when he wasn’t trying to steal pieces from Luke’s cockpit with the excuse “Dad lets me do it”

So Din has lost his ship/home, almost everything he owns, gave up his beloved son, has taken off his helmet and even if he decides it doesn’t break his Creed he still probably has to do some serious Processing about it, and has just accidentally become ruler of a planet he’s never seen or even believes is worth going to.  CAN THIS MAN PLEASE HAVE A GODDAMN BREAK

Anyway imo the only big misstep of this episode was we didn’t get Din and Baby’s reunion.  Din fights Gideon and then he’s herding Gideon up into the bridge.  Where’s the emotional reunion between father and son?  Removing the baby handcuffs and making sure his boy is all right?  Baby finally relieved at being saved?  YOU’RE NOT GONNA SHOW US ANY OF THAT?!  (You’ll be seeing it in ACCPOV though, that’s for DAMN sure.)

The after scene was cool, the Boba Fett one is pretty much the only show I’m really interested in and I liked the little teaser.  Especially Fennec freeing the poor slave girl.

Tl;dr Loved it and was just wishing for one more big scene of Dad & Baby reuniting

[scourge-sympathiser]

basicz of the jay AU tht i tried 2 keep short but failed pretty bad would put a read more but alaz im on mobile yr just gonna hav 2 scroll past sorry

so jaypaw is full on forced into the med den whn hollypaw quitz & he becomez super bitter & blamez her, sabotaging his relationship with his siblingz [lionpaw as well as he understandably stood up for hollypaw agasint his unfair jabz] the dark forest also approchez him but just piss him off further whn itz clear tht thy also think he could only be a medicine cat.... jaypaw startz training on his own by watching & copying thingz from othr catz dreamz, bcuz of this he catchez on 2 cat hellz planz of recruitment...... he ambushez & killz all the df catz who actually kno How to get into the dreamz of living catz within said dreamz

parallel 2 this brambleclaw haz started 2 notice his sonz increasing bitterness and antisocial behavior, how disconnected he is from both the clan but evn more worryingly his formerly extreamly close siblingz.... misreading the situation he assumez jaypaw is training within the dark forest..... at this point jaypaw haz also started sneaking out at night to train in the tunnelz as he needz 2 build up real muscle which he cant do within dreamz, brambleclaw followz him with the intention 2 talk him out of training in the df....... thy get into a huge argument & jaypaw, extreamly worked up & desensitized to killing blowz at this point, lungez towardz brambleclaw

brambleclaw preparez 2 fight back but endz up giving in without doing so bcuz of how much jaypaw reminded him of hawkfrost in tht moment & he just couldnt bring himself to take the life of another loved one

jaypaw killz his own father in one blow, somthing he did aim to do- but didnt actually think he Would be able 2, u kno?

he returnz 2 thunderclan & in a short bit the whole clan realizez brambleclaw is missing... for a while jaypaw stickz around but very quickly is unable to deal with his own resentment of the clan mixed with the experience of his mothrz growing distress at his fathrz disappearance, plus the guilt and confusion from he feelz from killing said fathr..... he cant take it anymore & runz away- but not before talking to his siblingz for the first time in moonz && telling thm 2 check the tunnelz

unsure of where 2 evn go jaypaw [who had long since begun refering to himself in his head as jay, his own little way of spiteing & disowning starclan] decided to head towardz where he waz Pretty sure the old forest, skirting around the mountain, of course he didnt actually Kno where the forest waz and he ended up just off track enough to happen apon skyclan

at this point he hadnt rly worked thru a lot of his issuez but the long travel time spent alone had made him realize just how much he missed being around othr catz despite evrything... so whn he met a skyclan patrol he ended up introducing himself as the rogue jay & asking to stay the night in camp to rest.. and thn hunting somthing 4 thm in the morning as a thank u... rinse n repeat with varing excusez until the grouchy tom waz essentially apart of the clan, though he asked leafstar to let him keep his name simply jay, a request she accepted

& thn skyclan haz 2 travel 2 the lake n suddenly jay is faced with the possibility of returning to the place he had left- his new family in skyclan learning tht he Lied about his past & the possibility tht his old family in thunderclan kno Wht He Did........... or going somwhere else, having to be Alone again aftr finally having managed to prove himself & feel like he belongz aftr oh so many moonz

[amariemelody]

Y’know, I am absolutely loving all of the Mandomera and the MandoxMeraxCara fics I keep finding!! 

But I do wonder if there are more fics that show Din and Winta bonding? I mean, Winta is Omera’s whole life just as Baby Yoda is Din’s whole life. Winta seems to be a wonderfully open-hearted, curious, adventurous child and Din is certainly a good man who, while introverted, seems to have quiet patience and easy affection for children. 

I have headcanons: 

One of Winta’s toys breaks when Omera’s super busy with chores, so she shyly holds her toy up to Din, who’s nearly done with his work. Din easily puts down what he’s doing and fixes it up in minutes flat, enjoying putting his carpentry/mechanic skills to work on something other than his ship and weapons for once. Winta thanks him by inviting him to play on the floor with her and Baby Yoda. Din accepts. 

Beskar is shiny and Winta is a child who can still be attracted to shiny things! So sometimes Winta likes to make hilarious faces at herself in the shiny reflection of Din’s back plate and Din pretends not to notice as he goes about cleaning his Amben rifle. But he has a secret smile on his face the whole time. 

Besides shiny, kids also like buttons!! And Din’ vambraces are covered in them! Din has a fail-safe that deactivates the buttons should he ever be unconscious or otherwise compromised in any way. He turns the fail-safe on and extends his forearms to let Winta press and play to her heart’s content. He answers all her questions with the watered-down half truths. His whistling birds are very rare because they’re little fireworks he uses to signal to other Mando’s, who are just as rare; his flamethrower has only ever been used to make a campfire, soldering repairs on the Razor Crest,  and/or for cooking. 

Winta has a gist of what a bounty hunter is, and Din will tell her and the other children very watered-down stories of his adventures hunting, just as he watered down what his vambrace weapons do. All the kids get the sense that “bounty hunting” means just bringing people together, and that’s how he and Baby Yoda got together. 

Omera gets frantic when she can’t find Winta or Baby Yoda for lunch. Din, always cool under pressure, turns on his heat vision (?) in his helmet, goes out a little farther past where they usually play, and finds them near a more-secluded pond fast, fast asleep. Din takes off his cape, wraps them both up in it, and nestles them on a shoulder each to carry them back. If either of them stir, he goes“Shh” gently in their ear. 

Winta hugged the crap out of both him and Cara after they helped the village drive off the raiders. Cara had an easier time than he did hugging her back. But awkward as Din was, he didn’t let go until Winta did. ‘Nuff said. 

Winta strikes me as a kid that’ll climb a tree to grab pretty flowers. One day she scrapes her knee bad while trying to climb. Din finds her and is just as gentle and soothing as her mother while he treats her knee with bacta spray and cleans it. He then gives her a ride on his shoulders to the higher parts of the tree so she can get her flowers after all. When she grabs them, she puts one of them in the side of Din’s helmet. He walks around like that all day.

The day before Din left with Baby Yoda, Winta gave him just as big a hug as she did Baby Yoda. Din quietly reassured her that they would miss her and her whole village, too. And just as when Winta hugged him after getting rid of the raiders, Din didn’t let go until she did. 

...Welp. I gave myself Feelz. 

[spartanguard]

even death won’t part us now (5/?)

Summary: Two covens, both alike in dignity, / In fair New York, where we lay our scene, / From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, / Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes / A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life; / Whole misadventured piteous overthrows / Do with their death bury their sires’ strife. (Captain Swan + West Side Story + vampires. But not as sad. Probably.)

rated M | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | AO3 | 6.1k words

A/N: Brace yourself for some feelz, friends; that’s all I can say about this chapter. (There’s just...a LOT of emotion. You’ll see ;) ) Eternal thanks, as always, to @optomisticgirl​​​​ for being an awesome beta; to @thesschesthair​​​​ for her amazing art (LOOK AT THAT AHHHHHHH); and to @kmomof4​​​​ and @cssns​​​​ for putting this event on and pushing me to continue this story!

if you’ve ever seen AVPM/S, I’d like you to imagine Draco Malfoy singing the Anita part and that’s what my high school’s production of West Side Story was like

part five: tonight, there will be no morning star

The skyscraper was a wonderful invention; a marvel of modern engineering. The ability to construct a building all the way into the clouds was one of the many things Gold was glad he had lived long enough to see. He’d been impressed enough when the Equitable Life Building opened in 1870; the balcony he stood on now was at least five times higher in the sky.

It was a good thing his sense of vertigo was long-dead, else he might not be able to spend as much time out here, looking down on the city, as he did. It made him feel like some modern monarch, surveying his kingdom from on high. In reality, it was much more complicated than that, though he’d spent long enough building his empire that it wasn’t far-fetched to call it a dynasty.

He sometimes lamented that his efforts would never be documented in history books; how he’d spent centuries working away right under the noses of the mortals, and they remained oblivious. Maybe he’d make that his next project. Surely there was some suffering, underappreciated writer he could bribe with immortality...ah, but not tonight. There’d be time for that later. First, he had to weather whatever was coming.

He wasn’t quite sure what it was, but something in the air was different tonight; a sense of anticipation was floating on the wind, carried along by the brine of the ocean. He tapped his fingers on the rail of the balcony but was unable to tap down on what it was precisely.

“Hello, Rumple,” a voice he’d never be able to forget said from somewhere above.

Ah, perhaps that was it then; he always had a sense for when she was around. “I thought I smelled betrayal and cheap wine on the breeze. Good evening, Cora.”

The woman dropped from the roof above, landing gracefully on the terrace without even wrinkling her pantsuit. Her style had always edged on sharp, though this seemed surprisingly simple for her; he recalled bigger shoulder pads the last time he’d seen her—what was it, ‘85?

 “You seem awfully calm considering what’s about to happen tonight,” she said, ignoring the jibe. Ah well, it was worth a shot; he hadn’t been able to get a rise out of her since 1621, but it didn’t stop him from trying.

He scoffed. “What, a minor scuffle? Two lads having it out over a couple blocks of territory? Seems to me it’s far more personal than anything that would actually mean something.” He’d had to restrain himself from chuckling when Jones told him about the fight; they had no idea.

“Don’t tell me you’ve grown so dense that you don’t realize what this means,” she preened.

He wanted to call her bluff, but if there was one thing he’d learned in over 400 years of dealing with Cora, is that she rarely did. “Enlighten me.”

“It means your underlings are growing restless and tired of this. Mine too. And I’d rather not have this end the way it did last time that happened.” ‘Last time’ being a bloody war; they were able to hide it from the mortals within the confines of the American Revolution but it was a near miss. He’d began rebuilding his ranks immediately; she’d taken her time. And here they were now.

“Chaos has always been my friend, dearie; I can’t say I’d be too upset if it broke out now.”

“While I wouldn't mind it either, I’d be watching your back a bit more closely. Didn’t Jones bring up something...rather interesting earlier?”

Somehow, a chill ran down his unfeeling spine—not just at what Jones had asked about, but the fact that she seemed to know about it as well. “It’s nothing; just a myth. It’s not possible.”

“Please. Think of everything we’ve seen, everything we’ve been through together. Nothing is impossible.”

“I’ve made sure of it.”

“Have you?”

She was always good at poking his buttons. And he was done with it.

“Go. And never come back.”

She had to obey, at least, and he took a small thrill in the way she involuntarily started to climb over the balcony’s railing. “Fine. I just thought I was doing you a favor, but I see it’s not wanted. See you in another 30 years, Rumple.”

She let go and fell back; he didn’t watch to see what happened when she hit the ground. He wouldn’t put it past her to frame him for murder, but she had a different angle this time.

Even though she’d left, that sense of apprehension lingered. Something was indeed coming, something that would change things in his world—but what?

And why did he get the sense Jones was involved?

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

The sun wasn’t even below the horizon before Emma left home, shouting a quick “goodbye and good luck” over her shoulder as she headed out into the evening. If she were in her normal skip-tracing clothes (aka her normal clothes), she’d be running across rooftops to get to Granny’s in no time flat. But no, this was a honeypot, so she had to walk, lest she break the only pair of heels she could actually move in without pain. (That was one thing she’d been dismayed to discover: heels still hurt, even if she recovered faster.)

Still, she powerwalked to Granny’s in record time. “Evening, Emma,” the old wolf called out. “The usual?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she replied, slipping onto her normal stool at the fairly empty counter. It was weird—for a place known to so many, it always seemed to be fairly empty. She had to guess that last night’s meeting was the most crowded it had been in ages. Or maybe that was just part of the magic of the diner.

If she had to guess, the guy at the booth on the other side of the room was a werewolf, based on scent alone; and there was what looked like a fairy bachelorette party at the large booth in the corner. (Not to be confused with fae—she made that mistake once and only once.) Being the only vampire, it was kind of nice to feel like the odd person out for a change. Though she hoped that changed soon.

“Order up!” Granny was suddenly in front of her with a plate of one of the few things on the menu Emma could eat: onion rings. (Onions that had been soaked in blood overnight, mind you, but that was enough for her to be able to stomach them.)

“Thank you so much, Granny,” she effused, and then moaned as she bit into one. “Have I ever told you you’re a genius?”

“It’s been mentioned once or twice. When does lover boy get here?”

As incredible as it was, Emma almost spat out the bite. “Excuse me?”

“Girl, you think I didn’t smell you all over him last night? He covered it up well enough for the others not to notice, but I know better.”

First Zelena, now Granny; they were both going to have to invest in industrial-strength body spray if they were going to keep this under wraps for the time being.

“Calm down; I won’t tell.” But she leaned in across the counter and lowered her voice. “But if you need a place to meet in secret, you know I have rooms upstairs. And I promise not to listen too close.”

“Thanks; I’ll, uh, keep it in mind,” Emma stammered, then hid her embarrassment in another bloody onion ring. Granny, unsurprisingly, cackled and walked away.

It would take more than a voyeuristic wolf to keep her from enjoying fried deliciousness, though, and she savored every bite—being glad she was wearing a red dress in case of drips (Deadpool totally stole that from her, as far as she was concerned)—until there were just two left: the most perfect, juicy, crispiest ones of the bunch. But suddenly, there was only one. And she also wasn’t alone at the counter anymore.

Two seats away, Killian sat with one of her onion rings, taking a slow bite that had her mouth watering in other ways; the way his tongue swiped away the bit of blood that escaped his lips was almost arousing enough to overlook the theft. Almost.

“All those manners and no one taught you to ask nicely?”

“I told you I was a pirate,” he tossed back, taking another bite. “Not a whole lot of ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ going on there.”

“I highly doubt you ever pillaged anything as precious as those, though.” She started to stand up to close the distance between them, but he threw her a warning look out of the corner of his eye that made her pause. 

“We’re in public,” he muttered with his mouth full. Damn, he was right; even if no one from either coven was here now, that could easily change. Which was really annoying because as good as his rum-flavored kisses tasted last night, she liked onion rings even more. And, you know, they probably had some business to discuss—like whatever Zelena had been talking about.

As if on cue, Granny slipped past again, but this time tossing a key (with a rather ostentatious keyring) onto the counter in front of her as she went to address her new customer. There was a room number written on it in Sharpie; Emma memorized the number and slipped the key into her lap as she sat back down. (While also making a mental note to try to find some sexy dresses with pockets.) 

The appeal of her last onion ring waned given that there was something far more delicious-smelling a few feet away, so she scarfed it down, threw some cash on the counter, and then headed to the hallway that led upstairs. Granny definitely did better business in the diner than her inn, and it wasn’t anything special, but it was clean, which Emma couldn’t say about a lot of other places she’d been; her skps really loved the city’s roach motels. (Something told Emma the very nature of her host kept most vermin far from the premises.)

Room 305 was simple, sparse, but had a decent-sized mattress with a sturdy frame, and a clean bathroom. All she needed was the privacy, though.

She’d hardly tossed her purse and the key on the room’s table when a soft knock fell on the door; she wouldn’t have heard it if she was still human. She turned back and, out of habit, glanced through the room’s peephole; she was already getting a whiff of spicy and salty air through the door, but this was still the city and you couldn’t be too careful. But of course it was Killian on the other side, peering up at the door through his crazy long lashes.

She didn’t wait any longer to pull it open, and nearly as soon as she had, he was on top of her, claiming her lips with his and damn, she was right—onion rings tasted as good on his lips as they did on her tongue. (But his tongue tasted even better.)

Somehow, the door was shut behind them and while she wasn’t quite sure who was leading, they pressed together from tip to toe until they fell against the plush—and noisy—mattress, sinking in with a loud squeak of ancient steel.

“Should have known Granny would want to hear something like that,” he chuckled. “Saucy old wolf.”

“Eh, let her listen.” Emma’s own arousal was climbing too fast for her to care, and she pounced on Killian again, wrapping a leg around him and pressing her core against his. He was definitely eager, too, she could tell; it was kind of funny how, out of all the bodily functions that ended when a person transitioned to a vampire, arousal was the one that remained unchanged. She’d had her fair share of flings in her afterlife, but no one had her as keyed up as Killian did with so little effort.

His hand wandered down her side, squeezing her waist and then pulling her rear impossibly closer, before toying with the hem of her dress. “I thought last night’s dress was rather demure for you,” he said between kisses, “but this one is positively sinful.”

“Good. Means work will go fast tonight. Horny bond skips usually fall for it pretty fast.”

“I can see why. I’d tell you to be careful, but I feel like it would be better to warn your prey.”

“Emma Swan always gets her man.”

“What a lovely motto.”

“True so far. And that includes right now.” She sucked a line of kisses down his sharp jaw to the juncture of his neck, drawing a delicious moan from him. “Do you have one?”

“Aye,” he breathed, eyes squinted shut as if trying to regain his thoughts. “A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets.”

“And what is it you want?”

He opened his eyes—clear blue even in the dingy yellow light. “You, love. Just you.”

How could she do anything but kiss him within an inch of his afterlife?

Everything that followed was a rush of sensation rather than any coherent thought:

The brush of his beard against her neck, the firmness of his chest beneath her hands (as well as that of his ass), each graze of his fingers against her thigh as they moved her dress up. 

The way his weight settled above her in a way that was both oppressive and comforting, the dance of fingers as they undid his fly (she wasn’t even sure whose all were involved in that), the bob of his cock as it sprang free from denim confines.

How something so hard could feel so soft in her hand—nearly enough to make him come undone on touch alone, but she’d be damned if she let that happen. (Or, well, damned more than she probably already was going to be.) How, for the first time in 15 years, she genuinely felt flushed.

It was all she could do to shove her lace panties aside and guide him home, and oh—she didn’t have the words for what that felt like: to be filled so perfectly it could have brought tears to her eyes (you know, if her tear ducts still worked). 

And then he moved and—holy shit. Her fangs dropped down on their own accord again but she couldn’t be bothered to care this time; hell, all she wanted to do was sink her teeth into him, but she’d have to settle with using a heel to press him back in.

“You feel incredible, darling,” he murmured, slightly lisping—his fangs had dropped too. Maybe she hadn’t learned all there was to know about vampire biology. But that could be dealt with later; right now, she just needed him, and to find the release that was inching closer painfully slowly.

“So do you,” she whispered. “But it feels amazing when you move.”

“As you wish,” he said into her ear, his breath somehow feeling hot on it, and he complied. They started slow, careful presses in and out to find their rhythm, then picking up speed and power. She really hoped the bed frame would hold up (Twilight did get that part right) and was sure Granny was getting a good show, but she put any other wonderings into finding his lips again, the play of teeth and tongues and lips coinciding with the meeting of other body parts.

It felt like a slow climb—something she was used to in post-mortem relations—but then the precipice came out of nowhere and she was suddenly falling, gasping into Killian’s mouth as her release carried her away, though she held his shoulders with an iron grip to keep from floating too far.

He wasn’t far behind, she felt, and his fingers would have left imprints on her side were they still capable of being bruised. She felt his release spill inside her as his movements stuttered until he was done, slipping out and falling next to her on his back.

It was probably some long-buried instinct that left them feeling out of breath after sex, but Emma was pretty sure she was sweating. Dead or alive, that had been one of the greatest orgasms of her life—and, honestly, sex was so much easier while undead, what with the whole not needing birth control or being worried about STIs. But this—this was something else.

“I do have to admit, that wasn’t my initial aim in following you up here,” Killian said, pulling her into his side. “But I’m not complaining.”

“I think we’d have some issues if you were. You seemed very enthusiastic about it.”

“And how could I not be?” he smirked, turning to look at her. But then his smile fell, and he pressed his thumb against her lips; it came back red. “Apologies, love; did I hurt you?”

She licked her lips and tasted the copper. “No; I hadn’t even noticed. It might have been self-inflicted,” she said, pressing her tongue against her own still-exposed canines. “I wish I knew why that kept happening.”

“It’s just the effect I have on you.”

“Yeah, it is.” Her normal MO when flirting was to refute a statement like that, but...why lie? “I’ve been waiting to see you all day.”

“I can tell.” She lightly slapped his shoulder, and he chuckled at the reaction. “I felt the same way; I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.”

“A day is a lot less than 15 years. It dragged but I managed. Thank you for not murdering my dad last night.”

“That wouldn’t have been very gentlemanly. And if anyone was going to do any assassination last night, it would have been Graham killing me.”

Ugh, of course he would; she groaned. “Sorry; he can’t take a hint. You make out with a guy once twelve years ago and apparently he keeps a flame lit for the next decade.”

“I can hardly blame him, especially knowing how you kiss.” His thumb again traced her lips, which had healed by now, and god, the reverence in that gentle gesture was nearly as overwhelming as her orgasm. But then his brow furrowed. “You don’t suppose true love’s kiss is real, do you?”

Emma blinked, confused; where had that come from? “No, probably not, though I wouldn't dare say that around my mom—she most likely believes in it. Why?”

“Granny mentioned something to me last night after the meeting, and I did some research today...were you also aware the prophecies were real?”

“No, I was not.” Though surprised, she listened as Killian told her about Gold and his powers—actual, honest-to-god, dark magical powers—and the prophecy that spelled his end. She wasn’t too surprised that it was kept under wraps, especially given what she’d learned from Zelena last night (which Killian somehow did not know, which made her feel like less of a newb for once).

But most shocking was the fact that Kililan thought she was the one the prophecy talked about. “Fuck.”

“That’s a succinct way of putting it.”

“I don’t word good, so the fewer, the better.” Quips aside, she was having a hard time wrapping her head around the whole thing. “So I might be the only person that can kill Gold and end this whole feud? That’s….a lot.”

“I know, but I want you to know it’s not a burden you carry alone.”

And then the other half hit her: true love. Did that mean…? “So...that’s us? That means we’re—”

“Maybe,” he said softly, probably sensing her panic. She couldn’t deny that she had deep feelings for Killian, but true love? That was...that was her parents, that was fairy tales; that didn’t happen to her.

“I don’t want all that,” she whispered. “I just want to be with you; I don’t want to be responsible for ending some centuries-long feud.” 

“I know, love,” he murmured, and pulled her close; she was nestled into the crook of his neck and other than her dad’s patented hugs, she’s never felt so safe. “It’s not for certain; just a theory, and you’re under no obligation to act on it. But if you choose to, know that I’m here beside you each step of the way.”

“Or we can just run off; go hide in the woods upstate or something. Or Maine—or even Canada; they’d never find us there.”

“Not likely, no,” he chuckled; she could feel the vibration of it through his collarbone onto her cheek. “Maybe a cottage by the seaside somewhere? Some remote little beach?”

“Mm, sounds perfect.” Her parents would understand, right? And even if they didn’t….well, they could deal. “Let’s just do that right now. Let me go catch this skip, and then I’ll pack my bags and we can go.”

She felt more than saw his smile. “As much as I’d love that, I’m afraid I have some other things to attend to this evening.”

Oh right, the fight—how could she forget? “I guess that brawl is kind of pointless then, isn’t it?”

“Aye; perhaps why Gold seemed unperturbed by the idea.”

“Then what’s the point in letting it happen? Do you think you can stop it?” It was probably because she was fairly young and hadn’t been fully indoctrinated to the cause, but the thought of an inconsequential fight that had even a slight chance of becoming something worse—because, with the way tensions ran, that was alway a possibility—made her really nervous.

“I’ll certainly try; I agree, I don’t like the thought of unnecessary fighting, either.” And he’d probably seen more than his fair share of it. “Whatever happens, I’ll come find you when it’s all done—I promise.”

“I will hunt you down if you don’t.”

“I wouldn’t expect any less.”

She kissed him again, slower and sweeter than before. “Ugh, I don’t want to go, but this skip will pay rent for a month.”

“I don’t want you to go, but it’d be ungentlemanly to make you late for work.”

“Do you always have to be one?”

“Yes.” 

She sighed. “Fine.”

Thankfully, they had enough time for one more make out, and she was already making a mental note to hit a drug store later for some perfume; his scent was probably embedded in her pores at this point. (She also mentioned he might want to do the same; he said he’d stop by his apartment before heading to the fight.)

Eventually, they righted themselves and made their way out of the room, pausing for one last, slow kiss in the hallway after locking the door.

“Not a moment will go by I don’t think of you,” Killian murmured, but he may as well have shouted it for as hard as it hit her. 

“Good,” she replied, hoping he heard how much she meant the same thing back.

With one final peck, she dashed out the back door and into the night, off to whatever seedy bar she was finding the scumbag-of-the-week. Hopefully, this would be a quick one—she already missed Killian.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

For a moment after Emma left, Killian stood stock still in the hallway, Emma’s scent lingering around him as his fingers traced the feel of her lips on his. That was not at all how he anticipated this encounter to go—he was fairly old fashioned in some senses, especially when it came to someone he wanted to court properly—but any complaint had died before he could give it voice. In a way, they were just making up for lost time, he supposed. 

And he would see to it that they weren’t limited in that regard ahead. 

Granny gave a lascivious wink when he placed the key on the counter in the diner, and he was sure she’d have more to say were the evening crowd (as it were) not filling up the place. He used that to his advantage and took his leave, even though he still had a few hours until he was due anywhere.

He spent a bit of time at the docks, mulling over how they’d changed over the years (and eyeing the ships for sale; he’d had to sell his last one and was in the market for something new, especially if a quick getaway might be needed at some point), before keeping his promise to Emma and stopping at his apartment for some fresh cologne to cover her scent. How no one had noticed it the night before was a mild miracle, but adrenaline would be running strong tonight and senses would be on high alert.

(He so loathed to erase the evidence of her on his person, though.)

There was still time to kill, so he walked slowly (well, for him) in the direction of the lot, even patiently waiting for crossing lights to indicate the all clear rather than dart out early like most New Yorkers did. He should probably find a snack, since he didn’t get to finish his drink at Granny’s; a hunger-like pang was stirring within, but there wasn’t enough time for that now.

The lot was mostly empty when he arrived, and the street oddly quiet; at least that boded well for this rendezvous—and perhaps he’d be able to maintain the peace.

As he got closer, a pinprick of light burned out of the darkness; it took but a millisecond for his eyes to adjust and see that Robin was waiting, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers.

“You’ll smoke yourself into an early grave,” Killian scolded lightly, as he’d done many times before.

“Tis a pity I never got the chance, then, aye?” Robin tossed back. He and his wife had been emigrating to America in the mid-1800s when scarlet fever broke out on their ship; his wife and unborn child didn’t make it, but somehow, Gold had been aboard, and turned Robin before the disease claimed him as well. 

In life, Robin had never had the money to maintain a tobacco habit, but once he found himself with unlimited time—and lungs that would never damage—he’d taken it up with gusto. 

“Just don’t let me catch you vaporizing, or whatever it is,” Killian teased.

“Vaping, and no, never.”

They waited in companionable silence as Robin finished his cigarette and started on another. That caught Killian’s interest; while smoking might be a favored hobby for Robin, he’d never been known to indulge in chain smoking—unless he was nervous.

Footsteps on the other end of the lot drew their attention; David, Graham, and the others (though thankfully not Zelena) stepped from the shadows. At the sight, the twisting in his gut coiled again, and an ancient feeling washed over him: trepidation. He hadn’t felt that since...god, not since Yorktown.

And that clearly ended well. (He thought to himself, sarcastically.)

He couldn’t pinpoint a reason for his sense of dread; it was certainly not the first time the two teams had gone head-to-head (even if he hoped it might be the last). He couldn’t count the number of lives lost to the feud over the centuries—thankfully few innocent ones, but the number of siblings-in-arms sacrificed to the cause was far too high.

He’d never been nervous before any of those encounters. So why was this one giving him anxiety?

(Because so much was riding on this. Because he didn’t want to let Emma down.)

Will and Henry appeared out of nowhere, suddenly behind them, and if it was possible for the scene to get even more silent, it did. The men were lined up shoulder to shoulder in two opposing lines; it was like the standoff in a terrible spaghetti western, but without the benefit of a Morricone score.

The tension was palpable as they all stood stone-still, waiting for the other side to make any sort of move. It would have been the perfect time for Killian to intervene—convince them all to back down—but he was too worried that even so much as a pin drop would make waves.

In the end, it turned out to be the drop of cigarette ash that sent things into motion; Robin’s burnt end had barely hit the ground before he and Graham were on top of each other, snarling and slashing in the middle of the carpark.

An outsider would have thought it was some strange dance, or possibly performance art, with the way they clamored at each other but never seemed to land any blows. But Killian’s keen eyes could see each dodge of a body from a clawing limb, their extended fangs thirsting for blood, and the way Graham curled inward when Robin landed a first, firm punch on the other man’s stomach; that finally drew Killian from his stupor.

“No; that’s enough!” he shouted, then put himself between them. “We don’t need to do this.”

Despite his advanced age, he didn’t have as much an advantage over the two of them as he thought he did; they simply jumped away and continued. Before he could step in again, a firm hand had him by the shoulder.

“Hey, this was your idea; what kind of power grab is this?” David growled; his other hand was curled into a fist. Should have known he’d be itching for a fight, too.

“You really think this will solve anything?” Killian spat. “Our bosses don’t care; this goes way beyond us, mate.”

Killian threw him off and made for the other two, who were now wrapped in what he guessed was some sort of wrestling move, arms gripped on the other’s shoulders. But before he got all the way there, David jumped in front of him.

“I’m not your mate.” David was glaring and trying to use his height advantage to intimidate, but Killian wouldn’t dare hurt the father of his love, even if he was his opponent at the moment.

“Fine, but I’m not your enemy either; you don’t even know what you’re fighting for.”

“You think I don’t know?” Now he was moving toward Killian—though, over his shoulder, he could see that Robin had landed another punch, this time on Graham’s chest. “Aurum turned me and my wife against our will. Aurum made our daughter grow up without her parents. You just take and take, and do whatever you want without facing the consequences. And now, what—you think you can get out of them because you might lose?” The irony in that statement, of course, being that Robin had now hit Graham in the jaw, who had paused to cradle his sore chin.

“But you have her now; doesn’t that count for anything?” Killian pleaded.

He realized as soon as he said it that he’d made a grave error. David stopped, taken aback. “How did you know that?” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Killian didn’t take the time to answer; with any luck, that would be explained later. He jumped on the opportunity presented and dashed toward Robin and Graham again, pushing Robin away as he was about to make what would likely be the winning blow. 

“Bloody hell, mate,” Robin sputtered, and Killian was about to reply, except he was suddenly face down on the pavement after something that felt vaguely like a foot hit him in the back.

“What game are you playing, Jones?” David yelled from above, giving Killian a good idea of who had attacked him. He was back on his feet in an instant, and so were the rest of the gangs, all around them. Fuck; so much for not bringing anyone else in.

It was Robin’s turn to step in front of Killian. “Are you trying to start a rumble, Nolan?”

“I didn’t start anything, but I will if that’s what you want.” Next to him, Graham pulled a suspiciously long, slender object from a pocket, and the subsequent swish of the weapon confirmed: he had a switchblade.

And a second later, Robin had pulled his own out. 

They were immediately back on top of each other, with the others egging them on— “Right in the heart, Robin!” “Go for the neck, Graham!”

Killian’s lone attempt to pull Graham back (he was the closest to him at the time) ended with him also being pulled away by Jefferson; he and David restrained Killian and while he might have been able to shake off one of them, the two of them together were too much. He had to watch helplessly as the two in the center continued to swipe at each other, blades glinting dangerously in the murky streetlights.

It was still only until first blood, right? And that was bound to happen faster now that sharp edges were involved.

Almost in slow motion, he watched as the tip of Robin’s blade sliced at Graham’s cheek, leaving behind a thin line of red. He sighed in relief, little as he needed that breath; that was it—it was done.

David and Jefferson loosened their grip on him and he shook them off, not withholding a glare in David’s direction. He then turned to face Robin, to get him—all of them—out of there as quickly as possible, but his voice got stuck in his throat.

While Robin had barely relaxed, let down his guard for the briefest of seconds, Graham lunged at him and sank his blade into Robin’s chest.

Into Robin’s heart.

The world stood still for a moment as everyone stared in shock, and the reality of what just happened washed over Killian. It wasn’t until Graham jerked the blade free, dripping blood—Robin’s blood—on the ground, that he was jolted enough from his stupor to move.

“No!” Killian screamed, then ran to his friend just as he collapsed. “No, no, no,” he muttered, pressing a hand against Robin’s wound, but there was no use for it—a vampire was just as susceptible to that kind of stabbing as a mortal was.

Robin was gasping for air, useless as it was, as his lifeblood spilled out onto the asphalt below him, quite literally draining the life from him; little would be left in a few moments but ash and memories. If Killian could cry, he’d have been sobbing.

“Tell—tell ‘gina—” Robin stammered, but was quickly losing energy.

He knew what he was asking, anyways. “I’ll tell Regina,” he promised.

With his last bit of strength, Robin wrapped his hand around Killian’s and squeezed, smiling, as death finally came for him. It was fast—too fast, but wounds like that always led to a quick death.  It wasn’t the first time Killian had held another person as they disintegrated in his hold, but it was by far the most painful. And the most unwarranted.

The dust that had been Robin settled in the air around him, landing on his hand where blood was still fresh. In more ways than one, Killian began to see red.

Without thinking, he grabbed Robin’s abandoned switchblade and in one swift moment, stood and shoved it at Graham, instinctively finding his most vulnerable spot.

Graham stammered back, pulling the weapon out—and hastening his own demise. All too quickly, he collapsed on his knees, his team gathering around him, and a moment later, he too was ash.

A sharp wind off the ocean blew Graham’s remains toward Killian, bringing with them the realization of what he had done:

He’d killed a member of Emma’s coven—practically her family.

And he’d done nothing to end the feud; if anything, he escalated it.

Bloody fuck, what had he done?

And what could he do now?

He stared in horror at the blood around him, trying to formulate a plan, when Will blessedly broke the fragile silence.

“Rozzers!” he shouted, then began to run, only to see no one else move. “Cops?” he translated into American English, which got the reaction he was looking for; everyone hopped to their feet and ran. No one wanted to explain this scene to mortal police.

Everyone but Killian. He wondered if his feet had become concrete, he was so rooted in place. It wasn’t until Will was in his face, urging him to move, that he did.

“Do you have somewhere to lay low? I don’t think Coroza is gonna let this one go,” he asked as they dashed from the lot.

His thoughts immediately turned to Emma, suicidal as that likely was. Could he drag her into this? Or would that be the least likely place they’d look?

He’d have to risk it. “Aye, I do.”

“Alright, then go; the less I know the better. Good luck, mate,” Will told him, then ran in another direction; belatedly, Killian realized, headed toward where Belle lived. 

There was no time to dwell on that, though, and he changed course to head uptown. He had no idea what lay ahead, but he knew one thing: whatever it was, he wanted Emma at his side.

(Assuming, that is, she forgave him.)

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

thanks for reading, friends! let me know if you want/don’t want a tag! @kat2609 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @amortentia-on-the-rocks @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @profdanglaisstuff @wingedlioness @word-bug @distant-rose @wellhellotragic @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @pirateherokillian @bleebug @its-imperator-furiosa @fergus80 @killianmesmalls @sherlockianwhovian @ineffablecolors @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich @lenfaz @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @snowbellewells​ @idristardis​ @scientificapricot​ @searchingwardrobes​ @donteattheappleshook​ @lfh1226-linda​

[baskervilleshound]

Her Cookies Were to Die For (PART 7)

((ahhhHHHH Hi frens. This particular chapter is very emotionally charged so ya better buckle up them seatbelts and get ready for some FEELZ. I’ve been like, kinda really stressed with all this madness going on in the world lately, so it actually felt very therapeutic to write this chapter. 

Anyways, I hope that you are all doing okay through these hectic times, and I love all of you. Enjoy!))

---

Hat Kid swallowed hard as she gazed at him in wonder for a moment, gently tilting her head.

“You were…him. The Prince,” she softly said, admiring the spectral creature with a smile. “You looked like the old you again.”

Hat Kid had rather enjoyed seeing Snatcher sleep so peacefully after the rough couple days that he was having. She almost regretted waking him up.

Snatcher, however, looked appalled by the entire thing. He immediately sat straight up, and began wringing his claws. It was only then that he noticed how empty inside he was feeling. He had expelled so many souls in the last few days, and had replenished none of them.

And by what the kid was saying…he was getting weaker, and quickly. His form shouldn’t have been changing- not without him manually doing so!

Snatcher heaved a deep sigh and shook his head, his long tail flicking and curling in agitation.

“You…why don’t you look like that more often?” Hat Kid asked as she slowly scooted herself closer to the ghost.

“Because that’s not who I am anymore, kiddo. That identity is long gone, and it won’t be coming back.”

“But that is who you are. You can’t just change entirely…can you?”

“Sometimes…yes. That’s just how the world works. You get hardened by time. And sometimes your untimely death.”

Snather huffed another deep breath and looked around Hat Kid’s room once again before looking at her directly in the eye.

“I have to go, kiddo,” he said, as he propped himself up on his claws, preparing to get back up. He needed to go eat something if he were to stop getting weaker. He needed a soul or two, and quickly.

“NO!!” A childish voice squeaked harshly into the air, as if she had heard the worst thing ever.

The kid’s shrill voice took Snatcher aback. He even began to shrink back into the pillows a bit. Did Hat Kid just…yell at him?

“Excuse me, young lady, but you can’t just…!”

“I said no, Snatcher!” Hat Kid cried once again. She had a finger pointed at the ghost, and her shoulders were shaking. Hard.

“Don’t go away, please! I don’t want you to go get hurt again! Every time you go back, you puke, and then you pass out, and I have to bring you back here because you can’t move…!”

Without warning, the girl actually began to break down into sobs. Her broken voice filled the air as bubbly tears spilled down her face in large waves. Snatcher began to wring his hands uncomfortably as he stared at the child in shock. He had never seen her act like this. She was always so happy and carefree, but now, she had tears trailing down her face, and her cheeks were bright red with upset. Her usual smile was now twisted into one of absolute dread.

Snatcher’s face began to burn. If he were still human, he would have begun to sweat.

“No, kid, you don’t understand…I…I need to,” he started to stutter.

“No, please, Snatcher…!” more sobs erupted from the girl before she threw herself against the ghost, gripping him with all her might in a fierce embrace. She buried her face into his body and wept.

Snatcher froze for a moment. He absolutely could not believe how hysterical Hat Kid was getting. It actually hurt him somewhere deep inside. Snatcher normally didn’t mind hearing the cries and screams of those who dared to trespass into his forest, but this…this was different. This person wasn’t crying because they were begging for mercy, or wanted to try to persuade him to let them go. No, this was the complete opposite.

Hat Kid didn’t want to let him go. It was a bit ironic considering the fact that Vanessa had clung to him and wept the same way, begging him not to go to college. That entire incident had been terrible, and had ended in an awful fight right before he left the following day. Vanessa’s cries had been those of bitter selfishness.

However, with Hat Kid, this was not the case. These were cries out of genuine care, perhaps even love. It was painfully obvious that these were of no malicious intent. For some reason, that in itself made Snatcher’s chest ache with something that he hadn’t felt in ages, and hadn’t even realized he still could feel.

Compassion.

“I don’t want her to get you. I don’t want her to hurt you…!” Hat Kid sobbed once again, gripping the ghost even tighter. “I found the note Snatcher! She gave you something, and I have a feeling it’s why you’re so sick. What did she do to you?!”

Hat Kid was crying so hard that she could barely breathe at this point. Snatcher honestly couldn’t blame her. She was only nine, and a lot of scary things had occurred very recently.

“Whoa, kiddo, hey,” Snatcher began. He paused for a moment, and his long arms hovered around Hat Kid’s shoulders awkwardly. “Let’s just try to calm down, okay?”

After a few moments and swallowing rather hard, the ghost finally allowed his long arms to wrap around her in an embrace.

“Calm down, kiddo. It’s okay. Calm down.”

His voice, for the first time in decades, actually sounded kind. As kind as a distorted ghost voice couldsound, that is.

“She didn’t do anything to me. She sent me cookies, and I ate them. That’s it.”

“B-b-but then you threw up…and now you keep throwing up and passing out,” Hat Kid whimpered. “I don’t want you to die, Snatcher. You’re my best friend, and I love you so much…”

Oh, that hurt. That hurt horribly. Snatcher found himself swallowing back on a small lump in his throat before shaking it off. No one had said those words to him and meant it in ages. However, he chose to laugh it off, or else he may cry. He wasn’t exactly sure how to deal with the emotions he was feeling. He felt so gummed up inside, and confused. The Snatcher didn’t have a soft spot for anyone. He had vowed he would never trust again, and yet, here he was getting choked up over some bratty little kid.

He quietly laughed, shaking his head as his tail flicked.

“Kiddo, I’m not going to die…again. The shackles already did that for me years ago,” he let out another laugh and sighed.

“No, no. I just need to eat.”

In an instant, Hat Kid finally tore herself from Snatcher’s side and glanced up at him, hope filling her vivid blue eyes.

“I…I can ask CC to make you all the bacon you want. You can have anything in the fridge that you want, in fact, I even have a secret stash of candy from that earth Halloween holiday that you can have. Whatever you need, you can have, okay?”

Regardless of the fact the kid was now speaking full, unbroken sentences, she was still obviously crying as tears littered her cheeks.

“Kid, maybe you need some candy. You gotta stop crying. You’re makin’ me nervous.”

He immediately stole the kid’s hat before placing it atop his head and lounging back into the pillows, curling himself into a noodle-like pile.

“Besides, it’s not human food that I need. I need souls. That’s why I’m feeling so weak, and need to get back to my forest as soon as I can. I need to eat.”

[class1akids]

Chapter 252 - Thoughts

This chapter absolutely blew me away. So much emotion crammed into so little space.

1. The Trio “win”

I love the disgruntled Bakugou slipping out of the unwanted hug - and getting away from those uncomfortable feelzies -  taking stock instead of the aftermath of the blitz-fight. That’s quite the escape-maneuver there.

Shouto is equally hilarious, furtively trying to cover himself with ice to disguise that half of his clothes burnt off. It reminds me of his S1 hero costume.  He manages to make it look cool too - windswept hair, lugging the villain around, oh-so-cool.

A rare Deku sassing Bakugou! - Their relationship feels like it has changed subtly. Bakugou is much more mellow with Midoriya, he toned down his insults and they don’t have much bite to them. And Deku calls out Bakugou more on his unaccaptable behaviour - I will count later how many “Kacchan!”-s we’ve heard during this one week. 

But this comeback is a good one, and I hope Deku will catch on that this is the best way to interact with Bakugou.

Also, he almost steals Bakugou’s moment to gloat, when he’s the first one to point out their total victory. Poor Bakugou though - he’s boasting moment is totally ruined by Endeavor conceding immediately that they were great and that he screwed up. It’s no fun being petty, when the other person is just down.

Although it seemed to me that the gloating was his attempt at deflection, because he saw another Todoroki-feelz avalanche coming his way (and because he didn’t want Endeavor to have a meltdown in the middle of the street. 

But we already know that it’s mission impossible to stop the Todorokis from oversharing. So of course they have to conduct their business on the busy street. It becomes serious / heartbreaking real fast. 

2. Natsuo and Endeavor

Every time I think Endeavor’s redemption arc cannot get better, it always does. Natsuo and Enji finally continue that talk they had at the first Todoroki dinner after the Nomu fight. And Endeavor this time truly owns up to being a shitty father, to hurting Natsuo, he even accepts the blame for Touya before Natsuo can bring it up. Natsuo, despite being shaken by Endeavor’s confession, doesn’t change his view - he’ll never forgive Endeavor (because he’s not kind like Shouto - recalling Midoriya’s perspective on forgiveness - and also how his good-intentioned words hurt Natsuo inadvertently).

   I love how nuanced all this is. Midoriya’s well-intentioned meddling may have helped Shouto and Fuyumi, but hurt Natsuo. His point was valid, but doesn’t mean it was valid for everyone.

Also, it’s strange that Natsuo just assumes that Shouto decided to forgive - could these boys just talk?

And then Endeavor finally, maybe for the first time in his life does something right by Natsuo, when he tells him that he’s plenty kind despite never forgiving...

That person staring from the car is a brilliant visual. 

Wow. This line hit very hard - right on point. 

Shouto doesn’t say anything through all this conversation, but with all the brilliant reaction panels you can see that he’s watching - and I feel like he finally sees whatever he was looking for. Endeavor changed; he accepts and validates the feelings of his children, he tries to do right by everyone, tries to find a way to give the distance Natsuo needs, the family Fuyumi wants, the new start for Rei. He did this at beginning of the internship arc with Shouto too, when he accepted his speech and his wish for their relationship to be professional, but I think Shouto being inside that situation couldn’t fully absorb that. Here, he’s observing from outside, and it’s different. 

I really wonder where this leaves him - after all, he remains in contact with Endeavor for his work-study.

3. Bakugou’s hero name.

I love everything about that short panel of them discussing at the station. Shouto managed to sneak into his hero costume. Look at his fanclub squealing in the background!!!!

And wow - it’s the first time ever Deku call him “Bakugou” - and probably the last time, so I’ll be sure to save this screenshot -  as Kacchan confirms that he chosen a hero name and it ain’t Bakugou.

He must have found the clarity he was looking for during this week if he’s settled on something, “his wish of what he ought to be”. 

Midoriya is so excited (he’s totally fanboying there) - but Bakugou is not telling him what it is, and not to Shouto either (that’s a nice little 3-way banter after all the Todo-tears) - he has to tell someone else first (logically Best Jeanist - cue a Bakugou / Hawks confrontation brewing). 

I wrote about my Ground Zero v Kacchan thoughts yesterday. I’m team Ground Zero personally, but I can see the thematic values of both (and we may get an option 3). 

4. Odds and ends

There is a bit of meta-conversation by Ending of Endeavor’s diminishing light, by the driver of Endeavor being targeted and the darkness growing and by Endeavor feeling like the light is there to stay - looking at the trio. 

It feels like in this arc Endeavor got to the end of the road - he belongs in the past and his only role now is give the best future he can; to his family, to the fledging heros. 

After doing right by Natsuo, Endeavor also tries to give Fuyumi what he thinks she wants (I’m not too sure if she’ll be ok with his self-imposed distance, because I feel like that despite everything, Fuyumi still cares about her father). But it’s good that he finally acknowleges all her very hard work. 

And Hori again pulled off the feat - here I am, rooting for a character I hated from the first moment he graced a panel, while simultaneously rooting for all his victims. Well done!

There is another little tidbit about Touya (other than Endeavor acknowledging that “he might as well have killed him himself” - which makes me still think Touya having a quirk-accident after attempting something he wasn’t supposed to...) 

Sounds like Natsuo is carrying his brother’s hurt, not only his own. 

[welllpthisishappening]

First-Line Center, Part Two

She hadn’t read the invitation.

It hadn’t changed in years, after all - a set of rules and expectations for a New Year’s party that they were all going to break anyway because the most traditional thing about this team was flouting tradition. So, Emma had mostly ignored it. Until. A shout and Killian refusing to wear a tie and something crashing in her kitchen, one kid worried about another and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was missing something.

There was a joke about fresh ice to be made, she was sure.

—–

Word Count: 4.1 K Rating: F for festive family feelz AN: There are a lot of people in this story. Like. So many people. Matt Jones thinks his parents are the best, you heard it here first. And this also marks the end of Going Top Shelf on Ao3. There are still far too many one shots I haven’t posted and I don’t know that I’ll ever give up on this ‘verse or this family that is genuinely my most favorite thing to write. I will probably post the rest at some point. Thank you, as always, for letting me shove this family at you, internet. It’s the best. 

|| Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll ||

—–

The loft, for the most part, hadn’t changed much in the last thirty or so years. Emma wasn’t entirely sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing – there were still crystal glasses and a wait staff with impeccably creased pants and the outfits, across the board, were as absurd and over the top as they normally were. 

It wasn’t much different. 

Except there were more people. There were kids and grandkids and significant others, a low hum of talking and laughing and every single one of them breaking that rule about not discussing hockey. Emma glanced around, trying to find the two other kids that she hadn’t seen yet, but that was a fool’s errand because she heard the footsteps before she heard the shout and the slightly strangled dad seemed to echo around the room as soon as Peggy skidded against Killian’s side. 

“Hey,” she breathed, eyes bright and just a little out of breath and Emma absolutely, positively did not want to consider why that was. She was starting to make several sweeping assumptions. Killian pressed a kiss to the top of her hair, eyes flashing towards Emma. “You guys doing that mind melding thing?” “That what thing, exactly?” Emma asked, and Peggy made a face, twisting so the beads on her dress didn’t dig into Killian’s side. 

“The mind melding thing. Toph said you were doing it before.” “When did you see your brother? And where’s your other one?” “Probably teaching Noah how to score fifty goals a season.” “You think Matt's going to score fifty goals this season?” Killian cut in, interest and something that felt like pride almost too obvious. Emma bit her lip so she didn’t look like a complete idiot when she smiled. 

She wasn’t sure that worked either. 

She was really starting to believe her suspicions were right. 

“Please,” Peggy huffed. “He’s on some other level right now. He’s being an idiot and,” she paused, using Killian’s shoulder as leverage and Emma followed her gaze across the loft. “Look.” 

Emma’s breath caught. 

Loudly. 

Matt and Roland were crouched in the corner of the room, a tiny stick clutched in Noah’s hands and a makeshift goal that may have been Henry’s phone and Leo’s keys, both of them mumbling instructions under their breath while Elsa and Mary Margaret recorded the whole goddamn thing. 

“Oh,” Emma breathed, a rush of memories and feelings she wasn’t entirely expecting. 

“The more things change, huh?” Killian muttered. It took some finangling to get a step closer to her, having to shift Peggy slightly and drawing a not-so-quiet grumble out of her. “What do you know, little love?” “Nothing!” “I genuinely do not know who is worse at lying you or your brother.” “Which one?” “Take your pick at this point,” Emma laughed. “How long have they been over there? And seriously what do you know, babe?” “Like, at least twenty minutes. MD got here before I did though, which was super weird to begin with, but who knows? Maybe Claire’s a good influence.” “You didn’t answer that last part.” “I genuinely have no idea. Honestly. I’ve barely talked to MD. He’s been busy being cute and breaking all of Aunt Gina’s rules, but again, it’s super cute and Aunt Gina doesn’t care at all.” “Where is Gina?” Killian asked, glancing around like she was going to appear out of nowhere and chastise all of them for daring to question any of her actions. 

Peggy opened her mouth to answer, but there were more footsteps and more hands clapping on shoulders and really none of them had evolved as people at all in the last thirty years. Will grinned when Killian groaned, slinging an arm around Peggy’s shoulders to rest his chin on the top of her hair. 

He wasn’t wearing tails – although the pattern on his jacket probably would have done damage to Emma’s eyes if she stared at it for too long. There were far too many colors. And his tie clip appeared to be masquerading as a small disco ball. 

“You better hope Gina doesn’t find you, Cap,” Will said. “How is it that you get away with no tie every year?”

“I guess that means Gina likes me more than you. Did you bring something to drink? Can I get something to drink?” “Cap did you not bring anything to drink again?” Robin called from the other side of the room, moving towards them with a waiter half a step behind. Killian rolled his eyes. 

“You getting that guy to follow you around?” “You want to drink or you want to make fun?”

“I think that’s suggesting we can’t do both perfectly well,” Emma said, leaning around Killian to grab two glasses. And if nothing really ever changed at that party or in that loft, then she was exceptionally glad that the quality of the champagne fell underneath that umbrella. “You yell at Liam about being the better grandfather yet?” Robin didn’t quite flush, but he definitely pressed his lips together and Will’s laugh echoed in the minimal about of space around them. It only served to push his chin further into Peggy’s hair.

“I am not a kid, Uncle Will,” she grumbled, doing her best to pull away from him and it absolutely did not work. It never really did. “You don’t get to do that anymore.” Will hummed. And didn’t move his arm. “Yeah, yeah, where’s the boyfriend?” “Talking to Henry.” “Your dad challenge him to a shootout yet? Dr. J’s way too busy doing whatever he’s doing and Chris got roped into meeting Leo’s—what’s her name?” “Oh my God.”

“Not an answer.” “And we just got here, Scarlet,” Killian said, but the distinct lack of contradiction appeared with neon lights and sound effects. “So, you know...we haven’t had time. You talk to Matt?” Will tilted his head, brows pulled low because it was, admittedly, kind of a weird question and they hadn’t even taken their jackets off yet. “Should I have?” “Nah.” “Wow, no wonder Pegs sucks so much at lying, she definitely got that from you and Em.” “Ok, that is not a compliment at all,” Emma sighed, another round of footsteps and Phillip’s tie was metallic. Ruby weaved her way through the crowd, a bright red jacket covered in sparkles and maybe they should have made another rule about how both she and Scarlet made the whole thing incredibly weird and far too competitive every year. 

“Emma’s the worst liar in the world,” Ruby announced, tugging the half-finished champagne out of Emma’s hand and ignoring her cries of protest completely. “C’mon, gimme this. My jacket keeps scratching my skin.” “And whose fault is that?” Will asked archly. He waved his hand towards a different waiter, flashing a smile when Ruby did her best to hip check him into the nearest wall. “Nuh uh, not going to work Lucas. My balance is unparalleled.” “Modest too,” Phillip added. “I have a question.” “It makes me nervous that you felt you had to announce it,” Emma said slowly. She wasn’t entirely surprised that they’d drawn the crowd – more ridiculous outfits and Regina flanked by both of Henry’s daughters, and Mary Margaret’s smile appeared to be permanently etched on her face. And Harper whatever her last name might have been only looked vaguely overwhelmed. 

That was definitely a step in the right direction. 

Elsa flicked her fingers against Killian’s shoulders when she moved towards them, Liam next to her and Anna’s hair twisted into elaborate braids, more than a few streaks of silver there as well. 

Maybe things had kind of changed. 

Emma hadn’t realized she was leaning against Killian’s side until he kissed her hair again. 

“Got the drinks before you even took your jackets off, huh?” Elsa asked, arching an eyebrow and they should have patented that move years ago. They’d have made a fortune. 

Killian’s lips quirked. “You cry about your grandkid?” “Nah, that’s Liam’s game.” “Aw, c’mon,” Liam groaned, both Robin and Will drifting dangerously close to cackling. Regina made some kind of noise that might have been an agreement. 

“I think that means your old, leader,” Will said, laughter clinging to his voice. “Not you though, El. Just Liam.” “Yeah, good save, Scarlet,” Elsa murmured. 

“Something about top-tier defenseman,” Anna added. Her dress was green, more sparkles along the edges and none of them were very creative. They were all covered in sparkles and there was probably a joke about looking like ice to be made. 

Or there would have been if Phillip didn’t cough pointedly, staring at the lot of them with a hint of frustration and dash of amusement and Aurora was showing off photos on her phone. 

“Did we interrupt you, Rook?” Robin asked, chuckling when Phillip flipped him off. “There are kids here!” “His grandkid is here,” Killian muttered. He hissed when several fingers flicked at his jacket again, not able to swat them away with one arm around Emma and the other still awkwardly twisted between Will and Peggy. “He’s got a grandkid because he’s old, you see.” “Yeah, yeah, you’re hysterical, Cap. Looking a little greyer up there than usual, aren’t we?” “Was that supposed to be in the collective?” “Shut up.” “It’s nice to see that the maturity level of this team hasn’t changed with its hair color,” Ruby said, nudging Emma in the side when Mary Margaret started to play the video of Noah. And, really, she refused to be held accountable for whatever noise she made. 

Because she’d already had quite a bit of champagne in quite a short amount of time and it was definitely warm in that loft and there was too much smiling and too much laughing and the video was so goddamn cute it probably should have been illegal. 

“Nailed it,” Ruby mumbled to Mary Margaret, a hum of agreement and quick swipe of knuckles under eyes. “And,” she added, making sure her voice dropped to something almost resembling a whisper, “you got to get here on time, Em. M’s went full-on sugary sweet mom with Leo’s girlfriend.” Emma’s eyes moved, a little begrudgingly, away from the screen and those assumptions may have been guarantees now or whatever and—”Do we like her?” Mary Margaret shrugged. “Leo hasn’t stopped laughing all night.” “Seems like a sign.” “Of you guys ignoring me,” Phillip interrupted sharply. Emma widened her eyes, expression only a hint less mocking than the general ooh that moved across the entire group. 

“Known goon, Phillip—” Will started, but there was more glaring and more laughing and Regina was handing out more glasses of champagne. 

“What’s your question, Rook?” Ruby asked. “Or comment or concern or whatever.” Phillip clicked his tongue, but Ruby had never been intimidated by any of them and the likelihood of that changing was slim to none. She drank the rest of her champagne in three, quick gulps. “What’s going on with Matt?” The oxygen flew out of the room. Or got whistled two minutes for roughing. And ruining the conversation. 

Phillip grimaced, eyes darting around like he was waiting for someone to say something or agree with him and no one made a single noise. Killian’s hand tightened around Emma’s shoulder. 

“Do we think something’s wrong with Matt?” Anna whispered. She absolutely did not whisper. They were all absolutely terrible at holding their alcohol. 

“No,” Emma and Killian said quickly, but they were also pretty God awful at lying and she was totally going to blame the alcohol. And that video. Mary Margaret should not be allowed to have a phone anymore. 

“No?” Elsa asked. 

“No,” Killian repeated. There were more footsteps. Because they were all absolutely terrible at lying and keeping secrets and whispering. Especially the whispering. 

“Wait, which one is Matt?” another voice asked, quiet and a little cautious and that must have been Harper. They probably should have introduced themselves to Harper. 

Leo shifted on his feet, nodding in the direction of the approaching footsteps. “The one who looks like he’s about to drop gloves with all of us at once.” “I don’t entirely understand that joke.” “And it might not have been a joke,” Peggy mumbled, holding up both hands when Matt glared at her. 

Harper looked stunned. 

“We’ll get you all caught up to speed,” Ruby promised. “If M’s can figure out what icing is in less than one season, you’ll be totally fine.” She ignored Mary Margaret’s scoff, turning towards Matt and the stick held lightly in his hand. “Hey mini-Jones. You going to bite off any reporter’s heads in the next few days?” Matt froze, crossing his arms awkwardly and the tie around his neck was far looser than it should have been. “No one bit anything in post.” “Did I say that?” “Certainly sounded like it.” Ruby hummed, eyes far too bright to be anything except concerning. “What do you think you know, Ru?” She shrugged, but the smile was full blown now and Harper was still muttering questions under her breath. “I know nothing until you confirm it, mini-Jones. Weird how it always seems to happen that way.” And Emma needed to stop, simply, reacting – sounds falling out of her without her explicit permission, but she couldn’t do much about it and something snapped into place and Killian might have been laughing. It felt like it at least, body shaking against hers and fingers moving towards her neck because they still hadn’t taken their goddamn coats off. 

“Is someone going to explain what is going on?” David asked, a few more sounds of agreement. 

“Oh my God,” Peggy yelled. Her hands flew to her mouth, eyes wide as she bobbed on the balls of her feet. Matt glared at her. “I know what it is. Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God! MD!” “Shut up, Mar.” “I didn’t say anything! Oh my God. Am I right though?” “I thought you didn’t say anything,” Leo muttered knowingly, and Matt’s glare wasn’t quite as sharp when he turned that direction. 

“Whatever, Nolan,” Peggy hissed. “MD. Is that—oh my God, did you tell Toph?” “Mar—” “—No, no, did you tell Toph and not me? Are you kidding me?” “I genuinely have no idea what is going on,” David admitted. No one acknowledge him. Probably because Peggy was trying to beat up her older brother, barely restrained by Will and a recently-returned to the conversation Jeremy Humbert who was also trying to say hello to Emma and Killian at the same time. 

It would be a miracle if they didn’t scar Harper for life. 

“MD,” Peggy pressed, lunging forward and barely making contact with the front of his shirt. “Are you sure?”

His eyes narrowed, a particular type of glare Emma wasn’t sure she’d ever seen one of her kids use on one of her other kids. And she was half a second away from reprimanding two grown adults who were both wearing absolutely absurd outfits, heard Killian’s quiet hey now that had always worked, every single time, but Matt groaned louder than either one of them combined. He leaned forward, pulling Peggy towards him – a cry of rather loud indignation from her, that only made Chris laugh from the other side of the room. 

“C’mere,” Matt growled, wrapping his arm all the way around Peggy’s waist. She put up a fight, kicking and punching his arm, but he was honestly having some kind of season and Emma’s gaze moved towards Killian like there were magnets involved. 

He smirked at her. 

“Oh my God, caveman,” Peggy snapped. “Where’s your wife? Does she know you’re an absolutely insane person?” “Mar, I swear, if you do not stop talking right now, I will—" “—What? What, MD? Please go into exact detail of what you’re going to do.” He made another noise – ridiculously familiar and Elsa had to tuck her head into Liam’s shoulder to stop her laugh from bordering on offensive. Anna didn’t even try. And it only took another moment for reinforcements to arrive, Chris jogging across the room to help move Peggy. Harper was never going to come back. 

They’d have to apologize to Leo. 

“God, P, stop playing rag doll and just move,” Chris sighed. She dug her heels further into the ground. 

“Are you not going to help with this?” Roland asked, walking back into the room with a kid hanging off his back and Lizzie smiling next to him. 

Emma shook her head. “What could I possibly do?” “Ah, yeah, fair enough.” “Smart kid.” “Less fair.” “Mar, I am serious,” Matt continued, doing his best to drag her into the nearest corner and there wasn’t much of a point anymore because they all spent far too much time together and helped raise each other or something equally absurd and Killian’s fingers were warm when they twisted around Emma’s. 

Peggy stuck her tongue out. “Fine, fine, fine, but the next time—you know what, I don’t care. Fine. Let’s go.” It only took a moment. 

Emma was, honestly, surprised – was certain Peggy would demand answers before they found the corner or simply check both Matt and Chris until she was in charge of the situation, but it was also kind of nice, that hint of anticipation and waiting and—

“I knew he’d want to tell them first,” Claire said. Emma jerked her head around at the addition to the group, the whole lot of them standing in the middle of the goddamn loft with a slightly cautious looking waitstaff lingering against the walls. 

She was dressed up as well, hair twisted at the nape of her neck and more sparkles, but the outfit had nothing on the look on her face – something about glowing and the next line shift and absolutely wonderful and complete and utter change. 

Killian kissed Emma’s cheek. 

And Claire flushed slightly, arms wrapped around her middle when her teeth found her lower lip. 

“I didn’t actually tell you,” she said. “So I didn’t ruin the surprise or anything.” “Is it a surprise?” Emma asked, only a little disappointed her voice shook. She might have been crying. She was absolutely crying. 

“Ah, I don’t know about that. It was almost responsible.” “Oh. Yeah?” The question was ridiculous, another string of inexplicable and unplanned emotion, but Emma could barely see through the tears in her eyes and Ruby’s sniffle sounded far too loud. Although, not quite as loud as the shriek that came from the far corner, both Chris and Matt doing their best to quiet Peggy. 

They failed. Miserably. Or, well, as miserably as it was possible to be when everything seemed to be glowing and new and filled with very expensive champagne. 

“Look who’s old now, Jones,” Regina muttered, tugging lightly on the back of Noah’s shirt. Elsa snickered, Anna wiping away her own tears and Roland grinned as widely as anyone else in the room. 

Peggy was still screaming. 

“Are you kidding me, MD?” She was jumping, arms flailing and hair falling out of its updo and Chris had shifted behind her, trying to control either one of those things, but that was a pipe dream and Peggy was absolutely crying too. 

Matt smiled. And shook his head. “No joke, Mar,” he said, soft and honest and Emma’s heart felt like it grew forty-seven sizes. She leaned back against Killian’s chest. 

Peggy’s hand flew back to her mouth, finally staying on the ground for more than a few seconds. Her shoulders shook slightly, though, and then it was a whirlwind of sounds – exhales and sighs and you’re going to be so good and there was far too much crying, but Peggy jumped at Matt and he caught her with the kind of athletic dexterity that was absolutely, positively genetic. 

That boded well for the future. 

Emma didn’t count how long they stayed in that corner – a moment and thing and three kids who loved each other more than just about anything else in the world and believed in each other more than anything else in the world – but Matt pressed his cheek against Peggy’s hair, eyes lifting with the hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. 

“So, uh, we’ve got some news.” “Good news,” Claire added, her own expression drifting closer to joy than anything else. “Like, you know. Good news.” “The best news,” Roland amended. “Although I’m totally ready to battle Matt to the death for, like, dad of the year award or something.” Matt groaned, but any hint of frustration was gone, replaced only with announcements and new and he moved towards Emma and Killian slowly – as if he were worried about spooking them or their recently acquired status and— “I’ll win every time if I’m half as good as you guys,” he said. 

Emma had no idea what sound she made. Killian’s knees buckled slightly. And Matt practically beamed, hugging both of them at the same time. 

Mary Margaret took video. 

Maybe she could keep her phone. 

“So, uh…” David started. “Just to be certain here, complete sentences and official statements—” “—That was good,” Ruby said. “C’mon, mini-Jones. Let’s get official so David can toast and we can promise Harper we’re not all usually this weird.” Lizzie shook her head. “We’re always this weird.” Matt laughed softly, moving back to Claire’s side and Emma’s record wasn’t going to be for eye rolls. It was totally going to be for crying. “We’re, uh…” Matt said, pausing to take a deep breath and his gaze didn’t move away from them when he spoke again. “We’re going to have a baby.” “Yeah, I think we picked up on that kid,” Killian said, voice gruff. “Why the face during post, then?” “I wasn’t really doing anything during post.” “God, it’s like all three of you are trying to do the worst job of lying to us. Didn’t we age out of this already?”

“We went to the doctor yesterday,” Claire explained when Matt didn’t immediately answer, far too busy rolling his eyes and trying to contain his sister’s limbs. “They didn’t want to let him off of our morning skate, but then he scored, so…” “Oh,” Killian said. “Right. Right. That’s—” “We’ve totally got pictures.”

He took a deep breath, ignoring the small army of cameras pointed towards him because they were the most absurd family in the history of the entire NHL and several different universes. 

Liam threw his whole head back when he laughed, his own tears obvious and maybe they weren’t just absurd, they were a bunch of giant saps. “We toast? Gina got that crazy expensive champagne, right?” “It pains me that you think I wouldn't get the very expensive champagne,” Regina said. 

“Of course, Your Highness, of course. No more cracks about getting older, right?” “I make absolutely no promises,” Emma grinned, doing it entirely for the reaction. Liam cursed in Norwegian. 

And there was, in fact, a copious amount of champagne and discussion of that one goal the night before reenacted several times by several different grandchildren with a variety of cameras pointed their direction. And there was dancing and food and a countdown that felt more important than it ever had, a shift and a change and everything all at once. 

And Emma expected the kiss, something about tradition and rules, but she was a little stunned by the everything of that too – Killian’s thumb tucked under her chin and a look she couldn’t quite ever name, but had come to absolutely covet and she smiled before his lips landed on hers, soft and insistent and—

“I love you,” he whispered. She kissed him again. 

“More than anything. Even if you’re kind of ancient now.” Killian laughed, breath warm against Emma’s cheek. “Yeah, as long as we get to do that together, I’m good.” “What a line. You look up kid-sized jerseys on your phone yet?” “No, did you?” Emma shrugged. “Maybe.” “Maybe meaning definitely?” “You really didn’t look yet?” “Nah,” Killian said, fingers doing something entirely unfair against her side. “I asked Liam and Locksley where they got theirs.” “Cheater.” “Efficient.” “Yeah, yeah, whatever you have to tell yourself, grandpa.” “I like that sound of that, actually.” “Good because that’s what we’re going with,” Matt yelled, twisted around Claire and he hadn’t moved more than a few inches away from her for most of the night. 

Killian nodded, tugging his phone out of his pocket and Emma didn’t have to look to know that there was already an order receipt in his email. “You good with that, Swan?” “Better,” she promised. 

The packages came two days later – plural, with more baby-sized merch than they’d bought for any of their own kids, a fact all three kids were quick to point out before Emma quirked an eyebrow and tilted her head and Peggy and Chris had to admit that they’d ordered their own merch too. 

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

Malfoy Manor part 2: ...I'm just gonna call this part "Bellatrix"...

Bellatrix enters the room and the scene proceeds pretty much as canon, her and Lucius squabbling over who will summon Voldy, her noticing the sword and singling out Hermione as the boys are sent to the cellar... Acacia is honestly terrified of her aunt and though she desperately wants to she can't find the courage to try to step in and help Hermione. She also can't flee the room lest they realize where her sympathies lie... And so she's forced to watch on, horrified, as her friend is tortured before her eyes. She feels so helpless and useless. She's shaking from a combination of horror, remorse, and anger. Anger at Bellatrix, anger at herself, anger at the whole situation. Tears well in her eyes and it takes all she has not to let them spill, to not show weakness. The relief she feels when they opt to bring in Griphook and the torment stops is short lived. What will they do if the sword is genuine? What will happen then? She almost isn't aware of the CRACK from the cellar, lost in her worries as she is, and barely pays any mind when they send Wormtail down to check what it was. She's dizzy from the worries spinning through her head already. Then Griphook declares the sword a fake and for a short moment she relaxes. But then Bellatrix touches her Dark Mark and declares that Greyback can have Hermione. The choked sound she makes is lost in the chaos as the boys burst back into the room.

And that's it for part 2.

A segment simply called “Bellatrix?” This...this can’t be good...

Yeah, if I had an aunt like that I would be terrified of her too. So, you know how I said the thing about Harry’s eyes had me wracked with feelz? Turns out I didn’t know the definition of feelz until this moment. Seriously, Acacia not having the strength to intervene, but feeling like she can’t flee or they’ll know that she’s affected. So she just...watches. I’m picturing it in my head. I’m imagining both Hermione and Acacia being tortured in different ways, Hermione by Bellatrix and Acacia by herself. I feel like this is going to be a point of contention later. That the Golden Trio may hold it against her. I mean, she just stood there and did nothing. There wasn’t really anything that she could have done that would have changed anything, but I wonder if the trio will see it that way. 

[themagnificentsevenimagines]

Hi, just want to say, I love your blog so much!! Can I just like everything in one g? Anyway, my question is: have you ever considered a Teddy Q/Red Harvest scenario where Red will go wandering and/or hunting for a few days at a time, always returning to Rose Creek, and when he does come home, Teddy is just so happy to see him? Like, they spend the next few days (or however long) being fluffy and cute, and Emma is always calling them out for PDA? Luv ya

A/N: Hi! Thank you for loving my blog I know I’m always away and barely post anything besides reblogs so now that I’m staying safe through COVID-19 and self-isolating, I promise I will do more! As for your scenario... well, NOW I’m definitely considering it so thank you so much for cursing me with the feelz! <3

So this ended up being longer than intended, and sometimes I accidentally drive away from the original idea, but I always come back to it. Most of it is in Emma’s POV as she is clearly the ship’s number one fan.

~~~

Every so often, Sam and his crew will come back to Rose Creek for some much needed time away from the spotlight. And for those who are getting much older, -can’t say who or Billy might stab me- sometimes a nice bed and a place to call home is not such a bad thing. 

So every time their heroes return, the townspeople of Rose Creek always greet them with open arms and a freshly made meal. Sheriff Emma Cullen is always the first one to greet them and always brushes off her relief and excitement to see them by rolling her eyes. Next comes Teddy Q. And after the first half a dozen times it’s happened, Faraday now knows better than to say anything whenever Red Harvest’s mood suddenly brightens. 

The celebrations take place that night, as per usual. Chisolm and the rest of his companions get to sit down, have a smoke, and feel safe around people they trust with their lives and vice versa. Over the years, Emma had finally lost it every time she saw her dead husband’s avengers take up the hotel as their place of rest and was able to build houses around the town for each of them. At first, they didn’t want to accept these gifts knowing that Emma could easily use the homes to house any new townsfolk who deem Rose Creek a decent place to live. But not many people can say no to Emma Cullen and live to tell the tale, so before the night was up, Sam already found himself in his very own house for the first time in decades. And it’s safe to say the same for the rest of his traveling companions as well. 

But it didn’t take very long for things to start rearranging again. Emma immediately noticed how both Faraday and Goodnight’s houses were rarely ever used. And then, she noticed that Teddy hasn’t been living in his own house that he’s been gifted by his dead parents when he was barely old enough to be considered a man. Over the many times Sam and his men came back to Rose Creek from their travels and took shelter in their respective houses, slowly, Faraday’s house became what they would use for a barn and then Horne would use Goodnight’s house to store and skin any meat he and Red Harvest would catch. Eventually, Rose Creek had just transformed and claimed the house as the town’s main butcher shop and so Horne and Red Harvest made a little extra money they would be able to save and use on their travels with the others. 

Emma didn’t mind that a couple of the houses she had built weren’t being used with the original intention, she just wasn’t sure if she minded the fact that Teddy didn’t feel the need to tell her that something was going on between him and the young Comanche warrior Sam had dragged into their group. She already knew about Goodnight and Billy and then later on Faraday and Vasquez. Those needles were too easy to pick out of a haystack. But it wasn’t until their group of seven came back home more and more recently did she realize that Teddy was definitely a different young man compared to what he was like before Matthew was murdered. 

This time around, she watched more closely and listened more intently. After about a couple days of her town’s heroes relaxing and enjoying their time away from their traveling passion, Red Harvest begins to wander off. That’s nothing new, as the young Indian has always gone off on his own to hunt and camp out in the wilderness whenever they return to Rose Creek. Every once in awhile, Horne would go with him as the old tracker is always content in sporting a nice hunt. They, or sometimes just Red, would disappear for a couple of days but always come back without any worry of if Sam and the others have moved on. They wouldn’t, anyway. Sam and the others always wait until their entire group is whole again and ready to move on before taking off on their next adventure.

It did seem curious to Emma that Teddy has never offered to tag along on these hunts since he seems so keen on being around Red. Whenever the Indian left, she noticed that Teddy doesn’t look sad or heartbroken, but maybe that’s because he knows Red Harvest will always come back. And it’s not like she could casually bring it up in a conversation since it was clear to her that Teddy Q didn’t want her to know about his love life. It bothered her that Teddy didn’t trust her. They were like family after all. They’ve been through a lot together. Before his marriage to Emma, Matthew Cullen actually worked for Teddy’s parents in carpentry and always took the gentleman caller under his wing either for a late-night drink or fishing. It was safe to say Matthew was the closest thing Teddy had to a brother, and then later on Emma became his sister. After Matthew’s death, Teddy didn’t ever want to part from his brother’s widow and because of that, he traveled with her to recruit Sam Chisolm and the others. Because of Matthew, Teddy Q met Red Harvest.

So, with that thought in mind, Emma confronted Teddy about it, but in a more calming matter than she originally intended, “I’m glad you’re happy.”

Teddy Q looked up from a small wood carving he was fiddling around with a small knife and smiled curiously, one eyebrow raised, “Okay? It’s just a wood carving, Emma. I do it all the time.”

“No, I meant you’re happy with someone,” Emma sighed at her friend’s gullible nature and waited for Teddy to piece the puzzles together. He watched her with confusion for a few moments before his face started to fall and turn pale. Emma couldn’t help but grin in delight to see him suddenly uncomfortable under her gaze. He should feel that way, considering he didn’t trust her with the truth, to begin with. And if that isn’t such a brotherly-sisterly thing to do, Emma wasn’t sure what was. 

“I’m glad you’re happy,” she repeats, reaching over to pinch his shoulder, “But the next time you try to hide something from me, I won’t be.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

After that, Emma realized some sort of ice wall she didn’t realize was there was suddenly broken. When Red Harvest came back from his hunt, Teddy Q openly ran up to his horse and waited for the Indian to jump down to embrace him. Red’s face had never so much closely resembled the emotion of surprise before, but it came close today as Teddy hugged him in front of several watching eyes. 

“Ugh, I thought they were out of the honeymoon phase?” Faraday grumbles from the rocking chair beside Emma, and she doesn't need to turn around to know that Vasquez had hit the gambler upside the head, “Ow!”

Vas curses something low to him in Spanish and Faraday has learned enough of the language to know when to shut up. But sometimes he challenges the outlaw and takes whatever happens in stride, “I know they’re not married, V, ya don’t have to go defending Red’s honor,” that statement doesn’t shock Emma, since she’s seen Vas and Red Harvest together, and it always reminded her of Matthew and Teddy.

“Are you saying that Red’s honor would break if he were married?” Emma raises a dangerous eyebrow to both Faraday and Vasquez with her arms crossed in front of her, and suddenly both men shut up and are suddenly interested in Joshua’s deck of cards. Goodnight just howls in laughter.

Now that Emma’s aware of the relationship, she sees most things that she hadn’t noticed before. Like how sometimes Red comes back from wandering off with small gifts for Teddy. None of the gifts are expensive-looking or pretty in Faraday’s eyes, but most of the gifts were something Red Harvest made or found, like a shiny rock smoothed over by a relentless waterfall or a simple necklace he had made with twine and one of his arrowheads. That gift, in particular, is one Emma is familiar with since she never sees Teddy take it off.

She doesn’t ask, but she always wonders why Teddy doesn’t go with Red whenever Sam deems it’s time for the group to move on. He clearly wants to go, and Red clearly wants him to come with, but he never does. Emma selfconsciously wonders if she’s holding Teddy Q back from truly being happy, and she even tells him so once by saying that she can take care of Rose Creek by herself if he wanted to leave.

“I know that,” he answers without hesitation, and boy does that ever boost Emma’s confidence, “But about you? Can you take care of yourself?”

It didn’t sound like an insult. Nothing ever does coming out of Teddy’s mouth. And Emma knows she can stubbornly deny it if she wants to, but deep down she knew she wouldn’t. She made Teddy promise to never keep secrets from her, and she intended on keeping the same promise to him. Deep down, she knows she needs Teddy, and Teddy always reassures that he needs her, too. So she stopped asking, knowing that Teddy was a grown man and if he ever wants to leave Rose Creek and travel with Red and his companions, then he can make that decision for himself.

But they’re never away for long. Red Harvest always comes back along with the rest of their crew. At the very least, they only come back once a year, but mostly they come back more often than that. They need a place to always consider home and Emma will live out the rest of her life gifting them that. But now she’s even more determined to live even longer if it means that Red Harvest can come home to Teddy Q.