#which was absolutely intentional on ella's part

[jessiesparkes]

Pride Month icons featuring Ella and Sammy!! I commissioned @SeiKuroneko over on Twitter to draw these for me, they did an amazing job!! They're both so adorable omgg

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

Prompt: “Do you want to put the star on the top of the tree?”

Pairing: Mozus Trein and GN!Reader/Yuu/Prefect (Familial)

Genre: Fluff

TW: NA

AN: I don't really have much to say about Trein lol. Hope you enjoy!

"Oh, come here lil' guy," you hummed, gently scooping Lucius from his place on the bay window seat. The cat let out a disgruntled meow, signalling his dissatisfaction as he looked at you with judgemental eyes. You just smiled at him innocently, cradling him like the furry little baby he was.

"Just gotta... there!" Anna smiled, decorating the bay window with tinsel and fairy lights. Delighted by her own work, she took a moment to take it all in. Turning to you, she said, "Well, that's the last of it done."

"Anna! (Name)! Come help decorate the tree if you're done with the rest of the house!" Ella called out to the two of you, making you gently let down Lucius from his perch in your arms. The feline sauntered off, out the door of the library and into the hallway as the two of you followed.

When Professor Trein found out that you were going to stay alone at Night Raven College for the winter holidays, he extended an invitation to you to spend the holidays with him and his daughters. Mozus Trein had grown fond of you, to the point where he regaled his daughters with stories of your adventures in the academy through the letters they exchanged regularly; Anna and Ella had been worryingly happy to show you the letters, much to their father's embarrassment.

You had grown used to the cosy house that Professor Trein called his home in no time, mixing with his family like you were always meant to be a part of it. Anna and Ella were a delight to be around. The women had taken one look at you and declared you their sibling, spoiling you and Grim both throughout your stay.

Ella was the older, calmer pillar to the absolute bouncing-off-the-walls energy that Anna brought. Both women loved and respected their father immensely, refusing to let him do anything they deemed too strenuous while they were there (which was most things).

It was endearing to see the way both of them would intently watch their father whenever he moved through the house, eyes narrowing when they saw him trying to lift something, no matter how light. Ella's gentle taking of the object from his hands would be coupled with Anna's playful scolding, after which you'd be roped in to monitor the elderly man who'd be placed into a 'timeout' on the couch.

These 'timeouts' would lead to the two of you sitting peacefully on the couch, your respective feline companions dozing off or resting on your laps as Professor Trein regaled you with stories from his past, of trips to faraway places and beloved friends. You grew close with the Professor, soaking up his retelling of stories with such eagerness that for a moment Mozus Trein was reminded of days when he'd read stories to two young girls before tucking them into bed.

If he hadn't thought of you as family before, he did now.

Once you reached the living room, you paused to admire the Christmas tree that was being decorated by an enthusiastic Grim and a slightly exasperated but fond Professor Trein. Anna immediately bee-lined to the two with the aim of helping them, while nudging you to go and help Ella, who seemed to be dusting some pictures kept on the marble mantelpiece. You obliged with her wordless request, making your way to the older woman.

You spied her holding a photo with gentle hands as you came to a stop next to her. It was a photo of a younger Professor Trein and a woman. The woman held a baby in her arms, carefully lowering them so a young girl could look at the baby with curious eyes. You recognized the young girl as Ella, so the baby must have been Anna. And that would mean...

"This is my mother," Ella spoke, her voice softer than usual. "I think this is the last photo we have of all of us together. All other photos of Mother before she left us only have we three girls," she glanced at you, a soft smile on her lips. "Father isn't one for being in pictures himself you see, though he likes to take them," she explained, fingertips gently grazing the cleaned glass.

"... She was really pretty," you said, looking at the woman in the photograph. She really was. Her long and luxurious hair was the same shade as Ella's, and her eyes the same colour as Anna's. The way she looked at her two young daughters interacting with each other was kind and motherly. The younger version of Professor Trein in the picture seemed unaware that a picture was being taken, his attention fully focused on his three girls as he stood close to his late wife.

It was a beautiful picture of a perfect family.

"That she was," Ella hummed in agreement as she placed the picture back on the mantelpiece. "Father used to tell us that Mother was the daughter of a wealthy merchant. That, along with her beautiful face and agreeable nature, ensured that she had plenty of suitors back in the day," she smiled, then continued, "though he refuses to tell us how he managed to woo her. Anna believes that he serenaded her one night under the stars, and she fell for him. And that he's just too embarrassed to tell us that."

You laughed as a vision of a young Professor Trein, singing his love and admiration to his wife danced in front of your eyes, and Ella chuckled along. "Ridiculous, isn't it?"

"What is ridiculous?" Professor Trein asked from behind you, and your laughter increased. Ella looked at you in amusement, a hand on your shoulder to stabilise your laughing form as she gave her father an innocent smile, "Nothing father. Have you finished decorating the tree?"

Professor Trein looked behind him, where Grim and Anna were arguing about Grim wanting to eat the popcorn used to decorate the tree and sighed. He looked back at the two of you.

"Only the star remains. (Name), would you like to put the star on the tree?"

You look at Professor Trein with a slight surprise on your face. "Me?"

Professor Trein raises an eyebrow at you, the faintest hint of concern on his face, "Why, does the thought not please you? If so, then Anna or Ella could place the star; no need to fret."

You shook your head, "No! No, there's no problem. Uh... It's just that, back in my world... putting the star on the tree was kind of a big deal? It wasn't anything symbolic just... I remember fighting with my cousins to be the one to place it," you chuckled, trying to ignore the way your heart squeezed at the reminder that you didn't belong to this world. Your loved ones were not miles away, they were in an entirely different universe; who knew if you would ever see them again?

Professor Trein's eyes softened, and he placed a fatherly hand on your shoulder. "(Name). I would be happy if it were you placing the star on the tree," he said, giving you a smile you had only ever seen him give his daughters. A lump seemed to grow in your throat at the care and fondness in his gaze.

"Besides, if you require someone to fight with you for the position of honour, I'm sure Grim and Anna both would be more than willing opponents," he remarked, a side glance to the two who were still arguing about the popcorn.

You gave him a grateful smile, feeling the tell-tale burning in your eyes that signalled the coming of tears. Blinking them away, you said, "Thank you Professor Trein."

"You're welcome, kid."

Back to Masterlist...

[tybaltsjuliet]

I think 13, 22 and 23 have not been answered yet? Otherwise, 6, 7, 8?

13. worst blorbofication

the barricade boys from les mis are a rough one. i love a few of those guys but this fandom blorbo’d too close to the sun a LONG time ago.

also, the way that large parts of house of the dragon fandom are really, really intent on selling you their preferred team like they are trying to convince you to vote for rhaenyra for president. or, worse, when the words “The Rightful Heir” start getting thrown around.

but i think the most annoying and most rampant blorbofication is ABSOLUTELY what star wars guys have done to han solo.

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

hm. does paris and romeo’s duel at the capulet tomb count? it sure gets cut a hell of a lot! i think often about the story of how franco zeffirelli told leonard whiting that that scene was the best acting he’d done in the whole movie...right before telling him it was going on the cutting room floor.

oh, and - well, this is maybe less “ignoring” and more “moving the goalposts” - but the fact that in the disney live-action cinderella they were kind enough to throw the haters a bone and give ella what, in my opinion, is a sympathetic and understandable reason for not just running away from the tremaines, beyond “kind of unfeasible for a young woman with no references and no money to just take off in a vaguely Historical faery tale setting”...

because i made my mother and father a promise to cherish the place we were so happy. they loved our house, and now that they’re gone, i love it for them.

...which the haters then proceeded to decide was dumb and not good enough.

23. ship you’ve unwillingly come around to

oh, erik and christine, 100 percent. if 13-year-old swan could see my feelings on it now, she would have conniptions; we were VERY exclusive for monsieur le vicomte back then. but the gothic romance will alway worm its way into my heart eventually.

[misscammiedawn]

Oh, this might be one that requires pondering:

If there was a perfect con day that stretched ever onwards and you could attend classes on whatever subject you wished- and still have time to spend with your partners- what classes would you want to spend time in?

WAIT add in -or teach- to that last question. Just, again, assuming a perfect day where you've had plenty of time to workshop it to your hearts content. :)

The addition came as a separate ask.

I would love to teach the Presence class again and ensure that those who couldn't attend last time, yourself included, could see me at my absolute best.

I truly wish to see my metamour, Spiral Turquoise teach again. His class was significant enough that in my 2020 journal I highlighted it but I do not have firm memory of attending.

Likewise I would love to watch the legendary classes from 2020 that I either missed or can only scarcely recall such as sleepingirl's rope bondage induction and SecretSubject and Lee Allure's dual induction, both of which were SRO.

I have attended Mind The Baron and Mazirian's hairplay class at every convention I have been to and have no intention of skipping it, especially if I got stuck in a Murray Loop of the convention and could see every class as many times as I wanted.

I'd care to check out Skaetlett's classes on MC Lit and one class they taught in 2021 which I was forced to miss that I still regret missing and know they are presently not teaching.

I'd also love to be a lovely assistant/demo bottom for a class at some point. Ignoring the Compliment Class which we have joked about, there are many classes I know I could be a valuable asset to that I do not really have the drive or charisma to take the lead upon. Not to mention individuals in the community that I share a specific kind of vibe with. Pretty much all the ace folx and I could trade off, though I don't consider myself to be even with Tennfan, Ella or Secret. Though I'd argue I'm not on the same level as Daja, either. I just have the ability to bend her to my whim and make her a pretty little demo for my presentation.

Honestly, I think I'd just want to attend everything. I want to know everyone. I want to be part of the conversation. I want to know it all. I want my life to reflect just how obsessed I am with this hobby and to graduate from the outskirts.

That requires effort. It requires me to actually make the Minnesota community recover from the pandemic. It requires showing up to online munches and meets. It require attending more than twice a year.

and I want that.

I want that a lot.

This community, particularly Beguiled/Charmed mean the world to me. They're my home away from Oikos.

[just-another-miserable-prick]

Final OC, Endre! I know he looks high but I swear he isn't-

So Endre, like Mihály, Erzsébet and Ella, worked for MÁV, absolutely hating every second of it, thus flying off often, which resulted in him and every sibling of his being locked up in an abandoned station with limited supplies, slowly losing 346 of their kind. This originally was planned to be only a few weeks, but ended up being a decade-long adventure.

It finally came to an end when Edward heard the last few singing and chatting away, having given up every bit of hope they had. This resulted in the 19 survivors being rescued and taken tó the Island of Sodor, where they all still live to this very day.

Personality:

Endre's a lot like Ella, as in sassy and chaotic. Very chaotic. He's said to be Ella's prankster sidekick, the two often pulling their pranks together. April Fool's is a nightmare with these two together. Other than sass and chaos, he's a little shit, constantly bugging anyone who dares to listen. It's not even intentional for the most part, he's just a very social guy who looks high as a kite but isn't-. He loves talking to people! That's it! He absolutely despises silence, having always been told to shut the fuck up back in his younger days. He's always making some sort of noise. You'll never find him just sitting around doing nothing, he always finds a way to keep himself busy. Even if said way to keep himself busy could hurt others or himself in one way or another. He, along with Mihály, is quite suspicious of Diesel 10.

He loves being around the Steam Team, Thomas, James and the Scottish twins in particular. Also Bill & Ben aka the Bee Bois. They're the ones who will always be down to chat :]. Not like others aren't glad to listen!

[sserpente]

A/N: So this is a much requested Part II of this Christmas Imagine which I suppose you can also read on its own. Also has requests from @keepcalmandtravelonkate and @fandom-rpblog as well as the exclusive Zoom meeting idea. Haha, enjoy everyone! ♥

Words: 1822 Warnings: fluff

Christmas Eve came sooner than you had thought and it was about as cheerful as you had imagined it. Thor greeted you with mug of steaming hot chocolate first thing in the morning, wearing the ugly Christmas sweater you had bought him last year and Tony was already in the spacious living room with Pepper to finish up the preparations for his annual Christmas party.

You spent the entire day baking biscuits and didn’t see Loki all day but for some peculiar reason you hoped that he too would attend the biggest Christmas party in New York City. Tony had invited everyone—no, that was not entirely true, the party was, in fact, for everyone—especially those who had no one else to spend Christmas Eve with or wanted to do so with none other than the famous Avengers.

With a sigh, you finished applying your red lipstick and admired yourself in the mirror. The green dress shimmering like a thousand tiny crystals had cost you way more than what you would normally spend on clothes but the occasion was worth it. You had only realised after that green was Loki’s colour too. Another sigh escaped your lips.

The God of Mischief and you had not really spoken since the roof-incident. Part of you wondered whether he was about as confused as you about what had happened between you, especially after Thor had interpreted your entanglement in a romantic manner, the other insisted you didn’t think too much of it. Loki was just… Loki. Mysterious, mischievous and handsome. Wait… handsome?

By the time you arrived at the party, more than two dozen guests had already arrived. Dressed in Christmas pullovers, suits or festive dresses much like you, they held small glasses full of mulled wine, eggnog or champagne, munching on biscuits and other Christmas treats and chatting with each other and the superheroes who had already joined the party guests, impressing them with their stories and their skills.

Your heart skipped a beat when you spotted Loki standing only a few feet away from you. Heavens, he should not be allowed to wear suits. Instead of the light version of his Asgardian signature outfit you usually saw him in, the God of Mischief was dressed in an all-black suit complimenting his raven hair and tall figure. It was perfect to blend in and not attract too much attention, for many citizens still avoided him like the plague after everything that had happened only a few years back. Your eyes met, sending waves of electricity though you, and he nodded.

You furrowed your brows when somebody spoke your name. “Is that you?” Much to your dismay, you recognised the voice immediately. It belonged to Derek, your ex-boyfriend. Derek who collected action figures of the Avengers and who owned a Captain America costume worth five-hundred dollars. Derek, who had cheated on you with other women and, upon your break-up, had blamed you for the sexual imbalance in your relationship. Needless to say, you had not exactly ended it on good terms. The last thing you wanted to do was chat to him of all people on Christmas Eve. Much rather, you’d finally spend some time with Loki again. He was fun to be around once he had warmed up to someone…

“I tried to text you like… a hundred times.”

“I saw. I blocked your number after fifty.” You retorted.

“Don’t be like that. I was going to make up, you know.”

“You literally told me it’s my fault that you went ahead and fucked other women behind my back, Derek!”

“Because you didn’t give me what I need in the bedroom, baby. We should have talked about that more. It wouldn’t happen again. Let’s talk about this. Can I get you a drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“Okay… Care to dance with me then?”

“Absolutely not.” You hissed.

“Come on. You are not here with someone, are you?”

You blinked. Fuck. Think, think, think. “Yes, actually.” You lied quickly. Your eyes fell on Loki who met your gaze again in a strange and almost affectionate way—something had definitely changed between you since he had helped you decorate the Avengers facility and you remembered, with butterflies in your belly, how he had caught you in his arms when you had fallen off the roof like a bird with broken wings. The idea came to you before you could properly think it through. Derek would never dare to defy someone like Loki. He was your perfect alibi to get rid of him.

“I’m here with my boyfriend. You probably know Loki?” Before you could change your mind, you stepped forward, closed the remaining distance between you and put your arm under Loki’s. He did not fail to react. Turning away from Thor, he frowned and stared at your linked arms, then opened his mouth to question you. Much to your relief, however, the gesture did not seem to anger him.

You shot him a pleading glance. Play along, you thought. Please, take the hint.

“Are you serious right now?” Derek spat, a both disgusted and shocked expression on his face.

Much to your surprise—or maybe not—Loki wrapped his arms around your middle then, pressing you against his strong body. Your heart skipped a beat. This felt like him cradling you in his arms like a bride, only more… intense, for this time—this time, it was actually intentional.

Loki gave Derek a glare, his lips ghosting over your forehead. “Are you alright, my sweet mortal?” My sweet mortal? “I believe you have promised me a dance.”

Derek swallowed, blinking at you a few times—and then, without a word, he shook his head and disappeared in the burbling and dancing crowd. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. Good thing for you he’d always been a coward.

But while relief was flooding your veins, at the very same time, adrenaline set every single cell of your body on fire. Loki was still holding you. His lips against your skin had felt like the gentle kiss of a butterfly… You looked up, if anything not to make the situation even more awkward than it already was, given that by now, both Thor and Natasha had become rather taken aback witnesses as well.

“Thank you. I really owe you.” You muttered.

“I take it this was a former suitor of yours?”

You gave him a weak smile. “That’s a very elegant way to put it but yes, he is my ex-boyfriend. I left him when I found out he cheated on me—repeatedly. I panicked when he approached me and I knew he’d be scared of you.”

“Why thank you.” Loki replied with dismay before, much to your surprise, a smirk grew on his lips.

“No! I just meant…”

“I know what you meant. So?”

“S-so what?”

“He is still watching you. You would do well to keep up the act.” Loki said, keeping you from spinning around to check. But he was probably right either way. You had just announced in front of a bunch of strangers as well as your ex-boyfriend and two Avengers that Loki and you were dating. You were honestly surprised the Trickster did not at all seem too bothered by this very circumstance, not to mention what it meant for you. Ever since the roof-incident, you certainly didn’t mind clinging onto him like that.

“Dance with me.” He commanded softly, one of his large hands coming to rest on your waist while the other interlinked with yours. “He will lose interest if you feign easiness.”

You nodded quickly, leaning into him to not raise any suspicion and taking a deep breath when the side of your face connected with his chest. Loki rested his chin on the top of your head, weighing you gently from side to side as if the music was made of waves carrying you over an ocean. It was a classic playing right now—What are you doing New Year’s Eve by Ella Fitzgerald—sweet, calm… romantic. This evening was going in a very dangerous direction now but you couldn’t help but feel safe and protected in the God of Mischief’s arms. Who would have thought that putting up Christmas decoration together would create such a strong bond between two people… a mortal and a god on top of that?

“I got you a Christmas present, you know.” You murmured after a while.

His voice vibrated in his chest, you could feel it against your cheek. “Did you now?”

“Hmm…” He stole away your ability to speak. That was so unfair! “I was going to give it to you tomorrow morning but… would you like me to give it to you now, in private?” It would be the perfect excuse to get away from here for a bit too, even if, in better lighting, Loki would probably notice your blushed cheeks.

“Lead the way, my sweet mortal.” There it was again. Smiling up at him sheepishly, you moved a step back and took his hand, practically fleeing from the scene.

Loki remained in the doorway when you reached your room. Whether it was out of decency or respect, you couldn’t quite tell. You crossed your room with quick steps, reaching for Loki’s gift under your bed. You had wrapped it in green paper and decorated it with a golden bow. A bit of a cliché perhaps but it looked just perfect.

“Merry Christmas, Loki.” You said when you returned to him and handed it to him. He only took it hesitatingly.

“Why did you get me a gift?”

You shrugged. “I just wanted to be nice. I doubt the others will have gotten you something so I thought… just so you can unwrap something too?” You almost choked on your nervous laughter. “You know I almost decided not to give it to you after all after you almost drove me mad when I was hanging up the Christmas lights.”

Loki chuckled. “I suppose you made that consideration before I saved your life.”

“More or less...” You replied, winking at him. Hey… this isn’t so hard after all!

Your heart was pounding in your chest by the time he unwrapped it, revealing the notebook and the green and gold fountain pen you had gotten him. It even came with green ink.

“It’s not much, really, just…” You said quickly. “I keep seeing you scribbling and reading a lot and I thought…”

“Thank you.” He interrupted. Honesty swung in his smooth voice, making your heart beat faster in an instant. At this speed, you were going to need an ambulance soon.

You smiled. “I ought to thank you. Derek is a dick. You saved me twice now, I’m in your debt.”

Loki chuckled once more, looking you deeply in the eye. “Yes. I believe you are.” It was, without a doubt, a promise.

-

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you considered supporting me on Kofi! It’s either for caffeine or red wine, I’ll take both. ko-fi.com/sserpente 

[adorethedistance]

A Pretty Good Bad Idea - Owen Joyner x Reader

JATP masterlist

Warnings: swearing, peer pressure kinda, very mild n fluffy

Words: 1865

Summary: Touring with the Julie and The Phantoms cast as a dancer has been the best time of your life, and the only thing that could make it better is the reciprocated affections of a cute, blond drummer.

A/N: So this piece is 1) inspired by this interview and 2) entirely self indulgent. It’s something I haven’t been able to get out of my mind every time I’m doing warm ups, and putting it down on ,, digital paper is my only way to get rid of it lmao. I hope y’all enjoy bc I know this scenario makes me really happy and I love sharing my joy with y’all.

I let out an involuntary whine when I roll forward into my almost-center splits. My hips are so sore from yesterday’s performance I had to force myself to start stretching in the first place. Getting a head start, I arrived at the concert venue an hour earlier than call time to get my lengthy stretching routine out of the way before the other girls show up. Slowly but surely, the rest of the dancers arrived and we began getting ready together.

“I have a speaker!” Tori announces to the room upon entering which makes me jump up from my seat.

“Yes! May I do the honors and bless y’all with my musical theatre playlist?” The rest of the group cheers, exposing themselves for the theatre kids that we are. After hearing the chime that signifies the speaker-phone pairing, a few seconds pass before “Cell Block Tango” begins to play. The entire group feigns outrage but we know all the words and soon indulge in such shameful pandering. A good pre-show playlist is what really gets me amped up for performing and after yesterday’s queue of ‘today’s hits’ pop, the musical theatre is a nice change of pace.

Since I’d gotten here so early, I decided to do my makeup before stretching and I still had time to spare. The only thing left for me to do was to get in costume but I’d wait until a little closer to showtime so that I could still eat and drink for the time being. This also meant I was free to roam and bother other people as they got ready, doing what I’d done almost an hour ago.

“So, Y/n?”

“Hm?”

“What’s going on with you and Owen?” I feel my breathing halt for a microsecond before looking up at, one of the other dancers and also my friend, Ella. My eyebrows are cinched in confusion as I try my best to figure out what it is she’s getting at.

“I don’t know, Ella. What is going on with me and Owen?”

“Oh come on. Your Instagram story from yesterday?” Oh. That.

“We just went to lunch?” I seemingly ask more than state.

“Yeah. Just the two of you. Don’t hold out on us, we wanna know what’s going on!”

“Really, Ella, there’s nothing going on. We’re just getting to know each other better.”

“Just getting to know each other better? Or getting to know each other better?” Tori butts in, dusting her cheeks with a subtle highlight.

“The first one?”

“How many times have you hung out?”

“Just the once.”

“Are you planning another date?”

“It wasn’t a date-”

“Do you want us to help wingman you?”

“I really don’t-”

“Hey.” The rapid-fire of questions cease when the gang of us look up to see Owen himself standing in the doorway.

“Speak of the devil,” Tori snickers as the rest of the girls slowly disperse and smugly resume doing their makeup. Owen makes a face in reaction to her comment but chooses not to pry.

“Could I borrow some hairspray? This one piece of hair won’t stay.” Despite each of the girls having a full can of hairspray on hand, nobody makes a move to give him the product, indicating that I should be the one to help him out. Rolling my eyes at the look Ella is giving me through the mirror, I stand from my chair and hand Owen the can of hairspray. He then looks straight ahead and moves to use the product but I stop him before he can.

“What’s your plan?”

“What?”

“Are you just gonna spray the piece?”

“...yeah?”

“That’s not gonna work since the rest of your hair already has product in it. Can I help you?” Owen nods amiably and takes a seat after I gesture for him to sit in my chair. I then realize my mistake as I need the comb on the grey countertop, and have to consequently reach past Owen in a way that wouldn’t be so compromising had I not worn such a low-cut top. Thankfully it’s over as fast as it began, and walking to the sink in the corner of the dressing room, I run the cool water over the bristles. It isn’t until I turn off the tap that I notice how eerily quiet the room had gotten. None of the girls are talking, attentively studying my every move as I cross back to Owen.

“Is this Chicago?”

“Uh, yeah, We’re listening to my musical theatre playlist though, not the whole soundtrack,” I respond in spite of the nervous laugh that falls from my lips. The slight slouch in Owen’s posture doesn’t help me to see what I’m doing clearly enough. Using my index finger and an upturned palm, I tilt his chin up to get a better look at his hair, willfully ignoring the fact that he’s staring at me right now.

Still, silence fills the room as I take the wet comb through the front section of his hair where the stubborn strand won’t stay put. Once the water binds the pieces together, I grab my can of hairspray and struggle to uncap it. The outside is slick from god knows what, but thankfully Owen doesn’t let me struggle anymore and holds up his hands to wordlessly offer his help. I hand him the can, and he pops the top off after barely struggling. Handing the can back to me, he holds onto the lid, and the entire exchange remains completely silent.

I have to work quickly in my next step, but it’s not enough to distract from the fact that everyone in the room is watching me intently. Holding the aerosol can away from the crowd of people, I put some of the product on the comb and quickly work it into Owen’s hair while it’s still wet. Once the comb has formed his hair to my liking, I stop brushing it through in fear of the now dry hairspray ruining the shape. Then, I use my left hand to shield Owen’s eyes from getting any product in them before spraying the offending area to seal in my hard work.

The sound of a cell door sliding closed signifies the end of the song, and I wait for a second, eagerly anticipating the next song to play. Upon hearing the staccato piano notes of “Bad Idea” from Waitress, a smile appears on my face.

“I love this song.” Lunging back on my right leg, I create a little distance between us to make sure I didn’t completely butcher the rest of his hair, singing as I do.

“It’s a bad idea, me and you.”

“I know, I totally agree.” Pleasantly surprised by his joining in, my smile grows bigger.

“It’s a bad idea, me and you.”

“I’ve never known anything so true-”

“It’s a terrible idea, me and you.” The effortlessness that the two of us find in harmonizing is a genuine shock and an absolute thrill all at once. Once Owen sees how excited I am by his joining in me, it’s like a switch had been flipped; the two of us immediately slip into Actor Mode and begin to sing the song as if we were performing it on a Broadway stage.

“You have a wife.” I take a small step back out of the character’s hesitation.

“You have a husband.” Owen mirrors my action.

“You’re my doctor-” I cross my arms across my chest, but release my right hand to gesture to Owen standing in front of me.

“You’ve got a baby coming-” He uses both hands to gesture back to me in my ‘pregnant’ state.

“It’s a bad idea, me and you,” the two of us turn slightly away from facing one another in false bashfulness. When the music picks up, the two of us avidly step toward one another to come together. In perfect synchronization, I grab Owen’s forearms and his hands face upwards to hold onto my elbows.

“Let’s just keep kissing ‘til we come to.”

“Heart, stop racing, let’s face it-” Owen pivots his step out to the side to face forward, extending his right arm which cues me to turn into him and take his other hand to spin out.

“Making mistakes like this will make worse what is already pretty bad.” Then he extends his right arm forward, and I turn into him once again.

“Mind, stop running. It’s time we just let this thing go.” Instead of spinning out again, I stop in front of him where he wraps both of his arms around me.

“It was a pretty good bad idea,” in our harmony I cast my gaze upward to see Owen staring right back down at me, and I feel like I’m seeing stars, “Wasn’t it though?”

The two of us continue dancing and singing with one another as if the rest of the world doesn’t exist. It’s only the two of us, here and now. The other girls in the room don’t miss the way I seem to smile like never before, and I sure as hell don’t miss the way my stomach fills with butterflies. When he holds me so close and dear for each intimate moment of the song, I’m seeing stars. A bold happiness consumes me, the same happiness I felt when Owen and I laughed over lunch in that small pizzeria.

The final harmony draws the song to a close and when it finishes, the two of us fall into a breathless kind of laughter.

“I didn’t take a big enough breath for that last part.”

“Me neither.”

“Your hair stayed intact.”

“I must have a pretty good stylist.”

After recovering from our laughter the two of us wind up in a palpable stupor as we stare into one another’s eyes. A few blinks and my trance is broken, I become aware of our surroundings.

“I should get dressed soon, and you definitely need to get dressed.” Owen nods still somewhat breathless.

“Yeah. See you later for pulse?”

“Save me a spot,” I joke as he backs out of the threshold of our dressing room. Leaning against the doorframe I watch him disappear into his assigned dressing room with a small smile still lingering on my features.

“Just getting to know each other my ass!”

“What the heck was that?”

“Are you sure you don’t want us to wingman you?”

“Do you even need a wingman after something like that?”

Turning on my heel, I face the bunch of insatiable dancers and shake my head in disbelief.

“We were just acting, you guys.”

“Liar.”

“Excuse me?”

“Maybe you were acting, but he sure as hell wasn’t. Did you see the way he was looking at you? He is totally in love with you.” Ella shakes me by my shoulders.

“He’s just a really good performer is all.”

“When is your next date?” she completely ignores me.

“Okay-”

“Oh, and I want to be the maid of honor at your wedding-”

“It was just a song, Ella.”

“-Oh my god you guys are gonna have the cutest kids! I mean, your hair with his eyes and cheekbones? Ahh! The cutest.”

***

A/n: the way that being on tour isn’t the most unrealistic part of this fic, but instead Owen actually knowing the lyrics is? Work diva.

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13​ @kaitlyn2907​ @itz-jas​ @crybabyddl​ @kcd15​ @kinda-really-lost​ @calamitykaty​ @morganayenneferburnham​ @n0wornever​ @dream-a-little-bigger-x​ @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys​ @amazinggracy​ @kaitieskidmore1​ @asdfghjkl-fanfics​ @ghostlygreenbean​ @juliefromaustralia @merceret​ @jemimah-b99​ @ifilwtmfc​ @thesweetestsinner​ @imsydneywalker​ @lovesanimals​ @thebloodthirstyvampress​ @bumbleberry-pie​ @losers-club6​ @tefilovesreading​ @dmcfarland1​@joynerxmercer @kexrtiz​ @talk-on-the-street​ @phantompogues​ @konciousdreamer​ @sunsetcurvej​ @warmnesss0ul​ @celestialmolina​ @lilyjoyner​ 

[missymurphy1985]

The Groupie (part three)

Cillian has just turned 30, and has no children. Reader is a fan, has been since day one and is a plus size girl. I myself am a UK size 16, so I hope I don't offend anyone with my story (I'm writing about my own insecurities a little here so be kind please).

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @cilleveryone @peaky-cillian @misselsbells06

A year had passed since that night. A year of you going through some serious soul searching. You'd become comfortable with yourself - to the point you were genuinely happy with your mind and your body, curves and all. You'd even been on dates - it surprised you when the men you'd been out with confessed they actually preferred a girl with a figure like yours.

You'd even began a university course in London, studying for a PhD in Psychology and Mental Health. You'd been to hell and back in your own kind, and made it through the other side. Now you wanted to help others achieve the same.

To help fun your course, you'd taken on work at a live jazz bar in Camden Town in the evenings and weekends. The music was always incredible, and you were allowed to wear 50s style dresses that accentuated your curves perfectly. Along with a slick new bobbed haircut and your favourite red lipstick, you relished in your new found life and emotional freedom. You had a new group of friends that you shared a flat with in Kilburn, and the regulars in the bar treated you like family. Life was perfect, a far cry from where you were just 12 months earlier. You'd also stayed off social media - and stopped following the career of the man that broke your heart.

It was one Saturday night, when your shift had not long started, when you were suddenly catapulted straight back to that morning.

"What can I get you?" You asked over the dimly lit bar. The man turned quickly without looking at you and ordered a Guinness. You froze. That voice... You'd know it anywhere... You swallowed the lump in your throat and poured his drink, carefully so as not to spill any. Praying to all that was holy that he wouldn't recognise you..

You placed it on the bar, holding a hand out as he placed a crisp £5 note in your hand, still not turning round. You handed him his change, which is when his eyes finally met yours. He did a quick double take, and you were just as quick to move onto the next customer.

You felt his eyes on you all evening and couldn't help but smile to yourself. Not that you'd ever show him that. You'd served him a couple of times through the course of the evening and was proud of yourself for not acknowledging him once.

Your shift came to an end around 10pm, and your flatmates soon joined you at the bar for a few drinks. Your best friend and flatmate Ella was due onstage any second, and as much as part of you wanted to crawl under the crowd and hide at home you couldn't miss her debut performance.

She came onstage a few minutes after you left your post behind the bar and sank into your seat in a booth with the rest of the Flat 76 crew. Your mojito in hand, you cheered with the rest of them as hour friend took to the mic and started to sing an Amy Winehouse classic.

"Y/n?" You turned at the sound of your name, and froze when those ice blue eyes made contact with yours. You ignored him, and turned your attention back to the stage. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you continued to ignore him.

"Y/n... I think Cillian Murphy is talking to you...." Your friend Stacey nudged you.

"Don't be ridiculous, Stace, he's clearly mixed me up with someone else."

"Y/n, for the love of God will you talk to me?!" His voice was louder now as he shouted across the table. Your friends looked between the two of you, stunned. You turned to face him and fought against your heart to stop yourself from bursting into tears. You stood up and walked over to him.

"I have absolutely nothing to say to you. Now leave me alone." You turned to walk away but he grabbed your wrist. Wrenching your hand back, your other hand quickly moved, slapping his cheek. A years worth of pent up anger and frustration buried deep in your damp eyes as he staggered backwards into a tall table, fortunately no one was sat on it and after a quick glance around it appeared no one had noticed either. Your friends on the other hand, saw everything and their faces wore matching open-mouthed expressions.

"What the fuck?!" He yelled, rubbing his cheek and grabbing your elbow, dragging you over to the restroom hallway. Once you were alone your emotions got the better of you.

"What's the matter? A hundred Euro not enough? Come back to see if you can double your money huh?!" You yelled at him, his face a picture of both anger and confusion.

"The fuck are you talking about? A hundred what?"

"Neve told me about your little wager Cillian - I hope you spent the money well! Tell me, what did you buy with it? New shoes? Fancy new shirt?"

"Wager? Neve? The fuck?"

"I'm not stupid Cillian - there's no way you'd be seen out in public with someone like me and that's okay!! I've come to terms with it, and I'm fine! I'm happier now than I've ever fucking been and NONE of it is down to you!!!"

"Will you stop fucking talking, and listen to me!!!" His voice loud, the Cork accent breaking through and stopping you in your tracks.

"Neve was trying to get with me from the first day of that production. Flirty comments, making excuses to be near me, it was fucking horrendous! I knew she wasn't interested in me, just wanted to boost her fucking career. I made it clear I wasn't interested immediately but she wasn't getting the message. Seeing me with you sent her fucking crazy! I never ONCE made any kind of wager about you or anyone else! I barely spoke to her by the end of the show run unless I absolutely had to!"

"You would say that wouldn't you? Irresistible Cillian Murphy, woman falling at your feet!"

"For fucks sake... You followed me for ten years. Ten years! Ever known me fuck around?"

"No..."

"One night stands?"

You shook your head.

"Scandals?"

"Well no... But..."

"But nothing!!! I'm not, nor have I ever been, THAT guy!"

You looked into his eyes.. he looked genuine. But you couldn't let yourself go back to that person you were before. That girl was weak. That girl was naive and stupid. You straightened your back and mentally reminded yourself of how far you'd come.

"What do you want from me Cillian?"

"Just you. It's always been you, y/n."

"Bullshit..." You scoffed, shaking your head.

"What do I need to do to prove it to you?"

"I can't answer that Cillian. I don't know."

"Come back to mine? We can talk properly?" You pulled back, almost laughing and shaking your head, immediately questioning his intentions.

"I'm not going anywhere with you. I'm going back to my friends and watching the rest of the show. I never want to see you again." You turned on your heels and walked back into the bar area, rejoining your friends at the table who were all staring at you. Full of questions that you'd never give the answers to. You didn't look back at him once.

All that talk, and all he was interested in was getting you back to his to use you all over again?

Not this time Cillian, not this time.

[youarejesting]

Sly like a... ? Part 5

[Master list] [Sly Master List] Beta: n/a (at the moment) Rating: All Pairing: Hybrid!BTS x FailedHybrid!Reader Genre: Hybrid au, fluff, action, adventure, angst, drama, slice of life. Some marked chapters will contain mature/smut scenes, BUT they will not have plot in those scenes and are 100% skippable without losing your place in the story. Words: 1.3k

Summary: Human’s strive to be better, faster and stronger looking to animal DNA. Thus Hybrids are born. As the rise for designer and Pedigree Hybrids increase, so do the failed attempts. There is one species scientists are unsuccessful in creating, but, folklore says they have been here all along, hiding and blending in with the humans for many millennia. How clever they are.

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Between the passive-aggressive comments from Namjoon and Yoongi, the absolutely adorable moments from Jungkook, and  Hoseok, and Seokjin's loud nature you didn't have a moment to yourself. Pair that with trying to make Taehyung feel comfortable and Jimin wanting your attention. You were running ragged.

Well, when you looked around they all were wanting your attention, each hybrid was a little possessive over you as their owner. Even Yoongi who constantly claimed he didn't want to be a part of any government program or any home in general, would occasionally growl or hiss in the corner whenever Jimin or Taehyung got too close.

You thought perhaps he was the most protective of you as he was severely touch starved and secretly loved the idea of being loved and wanted by someone. He spent his days and nights cold and alone on the streets and having somewhere warm and dry with someone who cared for his wellbeing was filling a missing piece in his life. It must scare him seeing the opportunity there but not allowing himself to fully let you into his heart as he held it so close as it was left frail and weak from his previous hurt.

When the groceries arrived the poor delivery man had to deal with seven very protective Hybrids who hovered making sure that you were constantly safe at that moment. Having a stranger in the house was not exactly fun for them.

"Yoongi?" You looked over the table from the game of cards Taehyung, Jungkook and Jimin had roped you into with their big innocent eyes and swishing tails. You saw Yoongi's ear twitch and his body tensing slightly as he opened his eyes lazily to meet you. You grinned at him watching his tail swish once before it stilled.

"What do you need?" He sat up stretching and walking over to the table and looking over your shoulder at your cards and humming. 

"I wondered if you wanted to pick something for dinner, there is a folder in the draw I filled with recipes I know how to cook, but if you want something else I can try to make it for you and also there is another folder of fast food menu's if you want something else?" You said turning your head he was very close his head almost on your shoulder but he restrained himself from the final move to touch you intentionally.

Perhaps he was scared of getting too close and eventually being abandoned once more. Yoongi was looking in the draws and frowning, "I can't find any folders"

Placing your cards down with a warning to the boys, you strode into the kitchen you saw him crouched by the draw searching and you smiled searching for the folder and found it. 

"These two purple folders," You handed them over making sure your hands brush trying to encourage subtle touches and his tail swished a few times. Knowing the kitchen counter was obstructing the view of you both from the others you took the chance to show him a bit of much-deserved affection, unable to stop yourself you placed your hand on his soft hair and tousled it with a bright smile. 

His cheeks went pink as he ducked his head, his tail was swishing back and forth rapidly and he took a deep breath and stood up placing the folders on the counter. He cleared his throat fixing his expression, not wanting to appear too pleased by the reaction.

Thinking it was best not to overwhelm him you returned back to your card game while he chose something for dinner. Upon returning you saw your cards askew from how you left them and some cheeky grins on the other boys’ faces.

"You sneaky rotten boys, what did I say about cheating!" you laughed shocked, and messed up their hair, the two feline hybrids whining and swatting your hands away to fix their hair back into place. Taehyung was overjoyed his tail rapidly swatting back and forth and leaning in wanting more.

You were scratching his scalp gently and he laid his head down on the table happily his eyes closed in content. Yoongi approached with the book hesitating behind you, not wanting to interrupt and you assumed feeling nervous to ask for something as simple as dinner. He was the type who didn't want to be a burden or feel reliant on you, but you turned.

"Did you find something for our dinner Yoongi?" You encouraged and his cheeks flushed, he held out the folder opened on the page and he shuffled not saying a word not wanting to bring himself to say the words.

"I wasn’t really sure, I picked one at random," suspecting he really wanted the dish but didn't want to seem too keen if you said no. You nodded wanting to give him anything he asked for, you were very good at reading Hybrids having grown up with Jimin and others just like him.

You placed your hand on his pulling the book down and pointing at the dish, "What meat would you like in it, and should we do noodles or rice?" 

"I like it with Noodles but if we make it with rice, I can make a lot of fun little side dishes which I like too, what do you like?"

"I am not sure?” he mumbled nervously at the thought of being given an ultimatum

“Good idea, I will start now and we can have all of the above, there are so many of us, it would be nice to have lots of everything,” You looked up at him an idea struck, you were supposed to teach these boys to be independent, “do you maybe want to help me make it?”

“Uh I have never made anything, but I can try, or if it’s too much we don’t need to eat?” Taehyung whined at his words and you laughed. 

“You don’t have to Yoongi, I thought you might like to learn for fun, so if every I am not home or if I might get sick or something, you will be able to eat good food” Clarifying that you were in no way trying to condition him into becoming your personal chef.

“I can help,” he nodded, you were still unsure if he was agreeing so as to not get in trouble but you would take it hoping to make the experience fun. “Okay, let’s get all the ingredients out it says, and put it on the counter right here”

“Do you need help with anything?” You smiled, placing your hand on his wave to gently nudge him aside to grab the bottle of sesame oil.

“I can’t find the garlic?” Yoongi was ashamed he had failed already.

“Oh, I bought a jar of minced Garlic to save time, so that’s all the ingredients found” Leading him from the walk-in pantry you lead him to the middle of the kitchen and took an apron, it was black and you slipped it over his head and walked around tying it up. “We can’t have your clothes getting dir-”

It was then you noticed how old and tattered his clothes were, the collar was stretched and the back of his jeans was ripped and stained from where he stood on the legs. Taking a small breath.

“Could everyone make a list of things they want or need in their rooms, in the bathroom or clothing and shoe wise? We can all go shopping tomorrow” Walking Yoongi to the sink you washed your hands together and smiled over at him playfully flicking water at him, he gave a tiny smile and wiped his face on his sleeve.

The two of you got cooking, as you taught him Seokjin sat at the breakfast bar on one of the tall stools and watched intently. It was honestly cute to see them all interested in everyday things, things that Hybrids weren’t exactly expected or taught how to do. 

Something as simple as feeding themselves. It was sad how many Hybrids were punished with no food or left to starve so it was nice to teach them how to cook for themselves and put some of that power into their hands.

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[lesbian-in-leather]

Okay so I'm fully aware that this film doesn't deserve the amount of thought that I'm putting into it but. The stepmother's song was heartbreaking like... I'm choosing to pretend my version of Vivian from my previous post is canon so the way the song was musically written as almost a villain song but not quite, combined with the way Idina acted it genuinely hurts and I've already rewatched it several times. And some of the lyrics in particular really stand out to me (so naturally I decide to dissect all of them)

I don't care, this is life

It's not fair, it's not right

Okay first of all we have the fact she she just believes this is how life has to be. She's a woman who has been completely destoryed, and she know it isn't right or fair but she genuinely thinks this is how it has to be, that this is the only was to live

All that hope and that pride

It's a waste, it's a lie

Anyone who thinks the concept of hope is a "waste" and a "lie" is clearly a victim of something like sorry this line hurts me

All you want is to breathe

Little girls should run free

But your corset's too tight

And your heels are too high

She clearly sees so much of herself in Ella and, I mean... look at this. These are the words of a woman who feels so trapped and has just given up and let herself be convinced that this is how the world has to be

The treasure you found? Bury it!

The only way out? Marry it!

That shadow of doubt? Carry it!

Carry it down to your grave, oh...

She feels like she has to hide anything that brings her joy, and that the only way to be safe is to marry. She doesn't even feel safe voicing her true feelings - and she isn't even wholly convinved by this system but she thinks that that means she's wrong. And that she has to carry that doubt to her grave, and just continue with the way things are done. And the really interesting thing is that, at this point in the song she leaves Ella's room. But she doesn't just walk out, no, she runs away with a face full of grief and regret for what she's forcing Ella into

The world doesn't need another dream girl

The world doesn't need another dream girl

She sings the first line alone, looking almost regretful. Like she's convincing herself that what she told Ella was right. And she repeats it into the mirror. She's tearing herself down, burying the doubt deep inside so she can save her daughters (all three of them, but especially Ella, the one who is the most like her) from the pain she felt

You're too dumb, you're too young

Full of heart, so naive

You're so blind, you're so green

You'll give up, just like me

After convincing herself that she's in the right she goes on with her tirade, berrating all of her daughters... by comparing them to herself

The wings are ornamental

They have no intention of letting you fly

First of all, this links back to the corset and the heels being a cage women are forced into, but also, she acknowledges that the temptation and illusion of freedom are right there. But women aren't allowed to try. Which is so obviously about how she was allowed to persue her dream by going to a music school, only to be torn down and insulted by her own husband for doing so. Her use of "they" shows that she isn't the one enforcing these rules - they are being imposed upon her just as much as the girls

Don't be sentimental

During this section, she's holding a butterfly. A green butterfly, so not Ella's magical godmother. Perhaps it would have been her own. But she waves it away after this line, getting rid of the oppurtunity for her life to be changed, because she's been given that chance before and it was a trap

Some legends are born in the wrong time

She knows she could have been great, but she also truely believes that women in this time aren't allowed to be. That neither she, nor Ella, nor any other woman can achieve anything but heartbreak and disappointment in the society that they live in, and that there's nothing to be done but wait. And it echoes so true for so many real women born throughout history and even into the modern day

This treasure you found? (Bury it)

The only way out? (Marry it)

That shadow of doubt? (Carry it)

Carry it down to your gravе

Her daughters join in, and she's clearly been teaching them this from a young age because, despite the sadness and almost fear they show, they don't fight her like Ella does. She truely believes she can never be great, and that she'll have to live with only the broken hope of who she could have been

(Bury it. Marry it. Carry it)

Proving further that this isn't a true villain song, other female character join in. The maids in the palace feel they must bury their individuality. The queen feels she had to marry the king and, in doing so, forfeited her right to an opinion. Gwen feels like she'll have to carry her ambitions to the grave, because she'll never be listened to or even taken seriously by the people with any power

Carry it down to your grave (Bury it)

Your grave (Marry it), your grave (Carry it)

(Bury it) bury it, (Marry it) marry it, (Carry it) carry it

More and more women join in, and Vivian just looks so sad. And the repitition of "grave" shows that she really thinks that this is her life, and that she'll die how she's lived - unfulfilled and ignored

(No, no, no, no ah!)

Bury it! (Bury it!)

Marry it! (Marry it!)

Carry it! (Carry it!)

Bury it! Bury it! Marry it! Marry it! Carry it! Carry it

Carry it down to your grave!

Your grave! Your grave!

This bit gives me chills every time because they all go absolutely feral. Every woman, even Vivian, is just kicking and tearing and screaming because it's so blindingly unfair and there's nothing they can do but they all have the same pent up rage, from the queen to the servants to the women in streets. And if reason won't work then they'll tear the whole goddamn world down. And internally that's what every woman there wants. But they all hold it in because, like Vivian, they've been punished and controlled and stepped on so many times that they've been convinced they're the problem, that everyone else is content with the system so why can't you be?

[Piano Instrumental]

And then finally. Finally Vivian is alone again. And her hair is dishevelled and she looks like she's trying not to cry and she plays the piano so beautifully and so loudly and so wildly that she's like an entirely different person. And then she almost does cry but she shakes her head and smiles a little and I have to applaud Idina's acting because it feels so real. There are no singers, and there's no other music. Just Vivian, and everything she could have been. All the parts of her she's been repressing, finally allowed to be seen for one honest and heartwrenching moment

And it reminds me so much of the final scene in the Ibsen play Hedda Gabler (which happens to be one of my favourites). Where the controlled character of Hedda just lets go and play the piano we've never seen her touch, and she plays wildly and loudly and it's so different to how we've ever seen her before. And her husband tells her to be quiet and she says she'll never make noise again - and then she commits suicide to ensure that she doesn't

The world doesn't need another dream girl

And then this. This line breaks my heart. Because she just sings to herself in the most broken voice, in a quiet, croaked whisper as if she's afraid someone might hear. And it shows how much she's hurting, how much she wishes the world could be different. This song was never directed at Ella. She only sung it to try and save her from the life that Vivian herself lived. Vivian is the dream girl, and that line is always, always directed internally. No one else ever sings it and it's never sung with anyone else on screen. It was always about her, and it was never a villain song

[spookysmujer]

Family is Forever, O. Diaz

Summary: The past comes to haunt  you and your family with Oscar.

warnings: angst, domestic!Oscar, swearing,physical abuse, attempt sexual abuse, child endangerment

word count: 4.8K

requested by @alliemariee15

a/n: Thank you for requesting and being so patient! This sweetheart requested this a month ago and has been nothing but understanding, so thank you so much! I went harder than I intended to with this, hehe. Also big thank to everyone as I’ve hit 1K followers!!! Please don’t forget to follow this blog, heart/like/reblog my content as well as leave some comments, pretty please :) Also turn on the notifs for when I post something new!

taglist: @clemmingstylins0n @fairygardenss @firebenderwolf @spookysnena @princesstiffxoxo @mbaku-babygirl @chellybear98 @multiyfandomgirl40 @i-just-wanna-live-gc (please let me know if you wanna be added or removed!)

(gif belongs to @merakiaes 🌟)

A life long dream of yours since freshmen year in high school was to move somewhere along the East Coast and for sometime that was the goal that you were working hard towards. 

And then Oscar Diaz happened. It was sophomore year when he ‘claimed’ you. You weren’t so into him as much as he was into you but he never stopped trying to get you and by some twisted fate of luck, he got you. Not long after officially dating, you got pregnant with your son, Abel. It didn’t matter that you were only 16 or the fact that Oscar had joined a gang. You two made it work.

That was 6 years ago, your son has grown into a very intelligent little boy. He is a carbon copy of his dad at that age, his thick black locks that are curled on top of his head has to be your favorite feature of his. You hadn’t got to see Oscar with hair like so since he’d already been sporting the shaved cholo look from when you two began dating. 

A lot has happened over those 6 years. Both good and bad. 

It was only a few weeks into summer after graduating high school that Oscar was arrested for drug possession. It completely wrecked you. At that point it seemed obvious that he would be the one you’d spend the rest of your life with. All that seemed to shift on the night when the police knocked on the door. The loud, echoing pounding and a 2 year-old Abel seemingly frightened. 

When Oscar opened the door he didn’t try to resist arrest for he knew this day would come. You held your son close to your chest as he called out for his papa.

You took him to visit Oscar whenever he’d ask and let him talk on the phone with him every chance you got. Nothing could get between you and your family, not even prison. And when he was released after 4 long years, the heavens rejoiced and so did the two of you. With lots of rolling in the sheets. 

That’s why you’re now in a PartyCity store looking for the right unicorn balloons for your soon-to-be 4 year old daughter’s upcoming birthday. When you found out you were pregnant again only 2 weeks after Oscar had been released, the both of you laughed, not surprised one bit. It was no secret that you wanted more kids together so it was fate to add a little girl, whom you named Ella, to the mix.

“Ma, can we go now? We been here forever.” Abel sighs as you make another round in the same isle you were in just a few minutes ago.

The corners of your lips lift as you know he has your patience, which is zero to none. He’s been a champ for most of the morning but once you had been running back and forth between stores, he began to lose his patience quickly.

Your daughter sports a mean muggin’ face, much like her father.  “I wan mah balloons!” She is standing in the cart, staring at her brother. The look of ‘I am going to get my way’. Abel only rolls his eyes and groans as she turns to sit in the cart and look at which balloons she wants.

“Cute kids.”

A voice sounds from in front of you, you smile and turn to thank the stranger but you are met with no stranger. A very familiar face. One that put you through hell, one that definitely was not suppose to be within a 100 feet of you. 

When Oscar was in prison you were absolutely loyal to him. Not once did you lose faith in your relationship. Even when you had your hardships such as the times Oscar got doubtful that he would never get out, he’d ask you to move on. Though it was never a thought at all. You share a child together, you’re bonded for life.

But to the streets if your man is serving time then you’re fair game. That’s just how they ran things but to hell if you were gonna let that happen. That never stopped other dudes trying to get with you. And there was one particular one that never stopped trying, Tomas. He became obsessive with you. He wanted you, he wanted to be the man that Oscar couldn’t be for you at that moment. But you never gave in because for you Oscar was it.

“What are you doing here? You know the obligations of your restraining order.” The calmness in your voice shows no fear but you know the lengths he’d go when it comes to you.

Tomas only chuckles to himself as he digs his hands in his pockets, “That expired this morning at 10. But I’m just visiting some homies, ain’t know you’d be here.”

You watch him intently as pull your son closer to you. Thankfully Ella has her back to you so you could have a hold on her should he try anything, “Yeah well, I don’t want nothing to do with you so I think it’s best if you just go on about your day and your life far away from here. Oscar has been out for a while now so I wouldn’t be so stupid and try something.”

He takes a few steps forward which makes you automatically step back, one hand locked on your son’s shoulder and the other on the shopping cart. “Calmate, I’m just passing through, preciosa.” A chill runs down your spine as he caresses your face with the back of his finger making you flinch.

Abel grabs onto you and holds you tightly as Ella watches the man stand close to you, “Mama, who is this?” She asks excitedly as she pulls herself up from sitting. You look to him and her as he turns towards your little girl.

“Hi, I’m Tomas, a friend of your mom’s. And who are you?” Your heart rate is increasing, your nerves are scattered all over the place, worried something may happen. Your daughter’s curiosity has worried you since she could talk.

She smiles as he waits for her answer, “Ella, it’s my birthday soon! I’ll be this much!” Ella holds up 4 little fingers and covers her mouth with her other hand, laughing due to Tomas’ pretend shocked expression.

“I have to go. Please stay away from me and my family.” You hoist your son into the cart, despite his protests that he can walk. You step back quickly and spin the cart around.

Ella is complaining that you didn’t get all the balloons but you hush her. After checking out you ask a worker to escort you out. He kindly helps you load your car as you get your kids in.

“Answer, answer, answer.”

You’re chanting quietly to yourself as you pull out of the parking lot to head home. Your heart is thudding in your chest like wildfire, you need to hear Oscar’s voice, even if he says he is busy you just want to have his calming voice soothe you.

A few rings in, “Hola, mamas. Where are you?” 

You slump back into the seat, his voice on the sound system has an instant effect on you. You exhale a deep breath, “Papa, it’s me! I miss yew!”

Ella shouts and you smile as you hear Oscar laugh, always so happy to hear their voices, “Mija! I miss you and your mano, where are you guys?”

“We just leave the store! I meet mama’s man friend.” You quickly shush your daughter and hang up the phone call. You can’t be mad at her because it’s not like she knows better or the fact that you forgot to tell to your kids not to mention seeing Tomas to their dad.

She whines that you ended the phone call, “Babygirl, you can’t tell daddy about that man, okay?” You look in the rearview mirror to get a look at her as she has her arms crossed over her chest and gaze away from you. “Mija, look at mommy please.”

When she finally does take a look at you, she keeps her lil Spooky face on, “That was mean and papa will be mad you did that.” 

“I know, I shouldn’t have done that. Just don’t talk about that friend we saw because then daddy will be really mad at mommy. Please?”

Ella’s features soften a bit and turns happy when you tell her that you’ll stop to get ice cream on the way back home. Both kids cheer with happiness as you pull into McDonald's drive thru. 

Oscar has sent some texts asking about the abrupt end to the call and what Ella was going on about, but you made up the excuse that there was terrible reception and that she has been spilling nonsense since this morning. He brushes it off and you sigh in victory.

You finally get home, very weary of your surroundings though you don’t think Tomas would be so naive to try anything knowing you were with the Santos leader. Oscar gets home not long after you, thankfully he didn’t bring up the phone call and you went about your night.

“Com’n son, time to bathe. Vamanos.” Oscar calls out from the hallway. Abel stands but moves slowly from the living room, so focused on the big screen, “Abel!” Your son scurries off. He is always last to shower because he is so glued the TV all the time.He has learned what comes next if there is a 3rd time being called. “Coming!”

The stress of Ella’s birthday is taking a toll on you because she is a very specific little girl and the slightest detail on a decoration will have her stomping her feet and pouting her lip for days. You’re definitely raising a perfectionist. 

Oscar stands in front of the bathroom mirror as he uses a razor to clean up his facial hair as well as to keep an eye on Abel who loves to let the bath get too bubbly or he’ll doze off and considering it’s nearly 10 PM, it’s a possibility. 

“How was shopping with Mama today?” Oscar asks as he zeroes in on getting a clean cut. Abel doesn’t answer right away as he ponders telling Oscar about his whole day or skipping on the part about meeting Tomas and how you were not so happy about it.

With Abel as the older child he is more aware. Unlike Ella who couldn’t pick up on the unsettling feeling Tomas had given off, Abel knew that this man was trouble. And his dad always taught him to protect his family. Family is forever and is the most important thing. Always to protect his family if his dad couldn’t.

“It was okay. Ella was whining, papa. She didn’t like the balloons mama picked out at one store so we had to go to a whole other store! I was tired of looking at pink and purple unicorns. Then that man that came up to us was..” 

Abel stopped talking as he realizes he let it slip out. And Oscar heard him loud and clear. He waits for Abel to continue talking but nothing comes from behind the shower curtain. Abel begins to cry, scared that he’ll get you in trouble. Oscar opens the shower curtain to see his son with his knees to his chest, sobbing.

Meanwhile, you are oblivious to what is happening. Your son keeps his face hidden as Oscar reaches to turn off the flowing water and sits on the side of the tub, watching his son. What is he afraid of saying that is making him this anxious?

“Abel Cesar Diaz, what’s going on? Hm?” Oscar taps his sons knee and the big, dark orbs that resemble his father’s peer up. Oscar can be the typical Hispanic father that tends to be disciplinary but he has learned that talking helps a lot as well.

So Abel explains to his dad what happened at the store with your friend. About how you didn’t look like you wanted him around and how scared you seemed. He explained how the man looked at you and how he didn’t think he was good news.

The veins on Oscar’s neck and forehead begins to bulge the more his son explained about Tomas. Oscar is aware of who he is. When he was in Corcoran his homies always kept him up to date of the streets. And it upset him when he had to hear about this pendejo from the Santos rather than from you. But after you two had a heated conversation over the phone, your next visit you explained. And when Tomas kept persisting you, you finally had a restraining order and more protection from the Santos until Oscar got out.

Oscar comforts his son and tells him that he isn’t upset with him. “Hey, you protected your mom, so you did your part and I am proud of you.” He helps him get dried off and ready for bed. After tucking his son in, he checks on Ella who is softly snoring on her bed. He smiles that she has finally gotten use to sleeping alone. He closes their bedroom door and stands in the hall for a moment, sighing and wiping the tiredness from his eyes, making his way to you.

You’re hunched over the table looking over a tablet that carries the plans for the birthday party as well as thanksgiving since that’ll be in a month. “Want a beer?” You ask Oscar as he sits across from you but he waves you off.

“Tell me about that stunt Tomas pulled today.” 

Your eyes meet his and you freeze for a moment. Your chest is rising and falling as you try to figure out something to say, “He ran into us at the store. I told him to leave me alone and that’s all that happened. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just..”

Oscar’s jaw clenches as you stare at him, your heart skipping each beat the longer he stares and doesn’t say anything. “And you didn’t tell me again because? Had to hear from Abel. Again, Y/N? Someone is bothering you, you tell me. You let me handle that shit. That’s why our call suddenly ended? Making the kids fuckin’ lie to me too?”

His anger is beginning to bubble over. You take slow breaths to keep your temper under control. With the past couple days you’ve been having, you had no energy to start arguing back. “I never told them to lie, I asked them to not mention it. It’s not lying, technically..”

“Oh, don’t give me that shit. Don’t be technical with me, that puto should know better than to be approaching you and even my own son could feel how much he bothered you. It’s a good thing I’m raising my son right to protect his mama.” Oscar stands and paces the kitchen.

“Babe, I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you..again. I had no idea that he would be there, you think if I knew that I would have went out today?” 

Oscar leans against the counter, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, “I don’t know why I didn’t hear anything from the compas. Everyone knows, including him, he got a target on his head for what he did. This is why I tell you carry that gun in your purse. My kids were there. And I love you to the fuckin’ end, amor... but had something happened to one of them, a bullet would be in your fuckin’ head.”

He leaves you in the kitchen by yourself and you’re shocked at his words. Oscar has been a dad since he was a teenager, since the two of you met. You knew the lengths he’d go for Cesar, but for his kids? He’d take out anyone including you as he stated. You let out a shaky breath. 

You decide to give him sometime alone. He’s the most upset you’ve ever seen him and he is rightfully so but you weren’t sure how to fix it. You do what you think any man cannot resist, seducing them. At least this way you can ease into him forgiving you.

But when you enter your shared bedroom he is tucking his two kids in on your bed. You quirk your eyebrows up in confusion. Did he know you well enough that you’d use seduction to get his forgiveness? Oscar turns to see you standing in the doorway, “Why are the kids in here?”

“Heading out, I want them by you while I’m out.” He is shuffling around the room gathering things. The usual: keys, phone, wallet, gun, extra mag. You watch him as he looks to you, “Where exactly are you going, Oscar?” 

He breathes out through his nose and that’s enough for you to know. You don’t open your mouth to bicker as he is standing in front of you now, looking down at you with eyebrows creased together, “He ain’t getting near you or my kids again. Don’t leave the house or room, lock the bedroom door and don’t unlock it til I call you.”

Oscar steps away but stops to turn and pull your face towards his.He presses his lips to yours. You melt into it instantly, your hands grasping his forearms. The kiss deepening for a moment as your hands move up to cup his face. When he pulls back you are breathless. Craving more.

Then he is gone.

The house is quiet as you lay awake waiting for your boyfriend to return. Your fingers running through your son’s hair. Something you love to do and Abel loves you doing it too. Ella not so much though. She’s a verbal lover rather than a physical lover, the thought making you chuckle. How different your two kids are.

You’re pulled from your thoughts as you hear some shuffling from the living room, grabbing your phone you wait for it to ring with Oscar’s name but it never does. So you call out to him, “Babe?”

When you get no response you climb out of bed and quietly tip toe towards the bedroom door to get a better listen, maybe he is testing you to see if you’d listen to what he said about not unlocking the door until he calls. 

The buzzing of your phone pulls your attention and you see Oscar’s name pop up with the cutest picture of him and the two kids. You sigh in relief, unlocking the door and stepping out to an empty hallway.

“Oscar?” You call out and switch on the light but he isn’t there. You click the answer button and bring the phone to your ear. “Babe?”

“Hey, this puto is hiding, still nothing just checking on you. The kids still asleep?” When the words leave his lips, you close your eyes and feel a tear slide down your cheek. When you open them, Tomas is standing at the end of the hall, leaning against the wall watching you.

You hold the phone to your ear as you watch him put a single finger close to his lips signaling to be quiet about his presence. You could tell Oscar about him, then you could run to the room and lock the door. Quickly hide the kids in the bathroom for their safety and tell Abel to call his dad because so long as your kids are safe that’s all that matters. But what if he is quicker than you? What if he goes straight for the kids?

“Snoring like bears per usual. We’re okay, just be safe and Oscar?” You pause for a moment as Tomas gives you sickening, sinister look stalking towards you until he is standing right in front of you, his hands brushing against your exposed waist as you’re in a crop top. “Si?” Oscar answers you.

Tomas’ hands grab your chin and lifts it for you to look up at him, “When you find him, put a bullet right between his fucking eyes.” Tomas smiles and swipes his thumb on your lower lip, making you flinch.

Oscar chuckles, “You’re turning me on, mamas. Not much of him will be left. I’ll see you soon, te quiero.”

“Te quiero.” You say in a whisper as the line cuts. You try to step back but Tomas is quick, as you suspect he might be. He grabs ahold of the back of your head and into your hair. He pulls it back roughly with his body now pressed against you. “You have no idea how much I still want you. I think of you every single night. I remember how close you were to giving it to me. Hm.. you remember how badly you wanted me?”

You want to throw up, the feeling of him against you and his words makes you feel repulsed. His grip is iron-like and he is not letting up not until he gets what he wants and it’s obvious he wants you.

“P-please. M-my kids, let me close the door. Just let me at least close it.” Your bottom lip is trembling uncontrollably and the tears have been spilling over since the phone call with Oscar ended. He analyzes you. Are you trying to make an escape? He walks forward, pushing you back towards the bedroom door. And with his free hand reaches back to close the bedroom door, you look over shoulder at your sleeping kids as the door closes. Sending a little prayer for their safety.

He grabs your face and plant a sloppy kiss on your lips. You drown under him, not knowing how to win in this situation.

“So what do you do now?” 

Oscar voice causes his chest to vibrate which is right up against yours. He has your arms pinned under his, “Hm, I kiss you to distract you!” You tilt your head upwards to plant a chaste kiss on his lip. He smiles into the kiss and pulls his head back, “You gonna be kissing random dudes who run up on you, hm?”

You can’t help but laugh as he gives you a mischievous look. “Well if it works for me to distract them long enough, then yes!” Oscar rolls his eyes and nods his head to proceed with his defense lesson since you weren’t so keen on firearms, he’s teaching you physical defense.

“Fine, fine. So let’s say the kiss does distract the perp, if you have him in this kind of position? Jab here with all your might.” He points to his side right below his rib cage. “There’s a nerve that’ll cause them to tense up and give you a few seconds. That’s when it matters the most, those few seconds. So think before you do.”

You look at the spot Oscar had pointed to, you jab your fingers there and he tenses up like he says would happen. He curls over and you step back and laugh, making your quick escape.

That moment plays in your head. The kissing is a distraction, he has one of your arms pressed against him and it’s the perfect opportunity. Then the thought of how you asked Ella to pick up her toys that laid on the kitchen floor earlier infiltrates your memory as she never did considering she fell asleep.

You allow him to seep his tongue into your mouth and when you do, you feel him release the grip on your hair. This is the moment. With your fingers pointed, you dig your hand into his side, right below the rib cage and he retorts back. The same way Oscar had. You use your shoulder to push him into the wall which gives you enough space to move away from him.

Tomas recovers quicker than you hoped. So when you were going to leap over the pile of toys, hoping he would trip over them, you feel a grip on your hair once more and you’re sent flying back. The pain stinging your scalp, you yulp when you hit the ground. He is on you and his body suffocating you, “You stupid bitch! Pull that stunt again and I promise you’ll regret it.”

His hand hits your cheek and you cry out as you try to get him off you. The fear setting in as his hand reaches to his belt, the clinking of the metal making you terrified of what is to come next.

But it’s the sound of a gun cocking that stops Tomas trying to unbuckle his belt. He looks back towards the sound just as you do too. You’re heart breaks into a million pieces to see you 6 year old son holding a gun in his hand. His grip on it perfect, ready to fire. His stance, arms out and legs spread apart ready for the recoil.

“Son, go back in the room, please. Just go back to your sister.” Your voice trembles as Abel keeps his eyes on Tomas. In the moment, he resembles his papa more than ever. 

Abel shakes his head no, “Get off my mama. I know how to shoot a gun and I’ll shoot you, get off her now!” He sounds like his dad too, you can only sob.

“Mommy?” Ella’s voice sounds from behind Abel. Which distracts him. Tomas takes this opportunity to get the gun away from Abel, “No!” You cry out.

Despite the ache in your body, you sit up and jump on Tomas’ back just before he can reach your son, Ella is screaming scared as Abel runs to his little sister and stands in front of her. You hold onto Tomas with all your might, the strength of a mother is like no other, “Abel, go! Get your sister and run, baby! Run to Tio Cesar’s friends house, go!”

Tomas manages to get you off and slams you back into the wall. The blow stunning you, you have the wind completely knocked out of you. The back of his hand hits your face which causes you to fall over. You cry out as you see him step towards your kids. The fire of the gun sounds and Tomas cries out in pain holding his arm.

“Y/N!” You hear Cesar followed by footsteps. He is kneeling besides you as the Santos enter the house to check it out. “My babies, are they okay?” 

“Mama!” Abel calls out as he drops the gun and runs to you, you hold your arms open to embrace your son. Your brave baby boy. Fearless much like his father. Ella joins quickly and you squeeze them tightly.

They sob in your arms as you sit on the floor, the pain radiating throughout you numb from the love your kids are giving, “Y/N! Baby?!” Oscar’s voice booms through the house as he approaches you. He pulls Cesar away as he falls to his knees besides you. His arms envelopes all 3 of you.

Ella turns into her father’s chest, he can feel her thudding heartbeat. Tears stream down his face as he felt he let down his family but as the Santos grabbed the injured Tomas and dragged him out of the house, both of you sigh in relief that the worst is over.

“Mijo, you did it again. You protected your family and papa is so proud of you. You..” Oscar can’t form anymore words as he hugs his son and plants kisses on his head. You stand from the ground and use Oscar’s arm as support.

“Cesar take the kids to the bathroom, make sure they’re okay, por favor.” The younger Diaz nods and whisks away the little ones. Oscar pulls a chair out for you to sit, he kneels in front of you and examines the damage.

You look to him, eyes feeling puffy from the crying, “I’m sorry, I didn’t listen. I put our kids in danger and you’re right, I should have a bullet in my fucking head. I’m sorry, Oscar.” Your head falls as you sob hard, the hyperventilating causing hiccups.

“Baby, none of that shit matters. My kids are okay and you are now. He can’t do anything to hurt you anymore and I promise, you didn’t do nothing wrong. We’re lucky we’re raising a smart boy. I love you.” He wipes your face dry with his shirt and stands, pulling you into his warm, safe embrace.

You all take a shower and cuddle into the bed. Abel and Ella rest in between you and Oscar, embracing each other. Ella has her tiny head on her brother’s chest, forever his sister’s keeper. Oscar sighs as he intertwines your hands together, you look up at him as he gives you a soft smile.

This morning you woke a happy family and tonight you lay down a stronger one.

[jerakeenc]

may recs (12: hobbit, x-men, mandalorian, good omens, mcu)

Don't mind me. I'm fandom hopping like crazy.

Ghivashel by mdseiran

Hobbit | Bilbo/Thorin | Mature | 44,240 words

The last thing Bilbo expects when he stays up late one night is company. The strange dwarf and his companion crash into his life and prove unexpected saviours. But the dwarf seems to think he will be joining them on their travels, and Bilbo has no such intentions.

Fascinating AU. Smaug claims young!Thorin as his treasure.

Previous Engagements by Lunarflare14

Hobbit | Bilbo/Thorin | Teen | 26,750 words

But as Spring approaches a caravan from the Blue mountains brings something everyone had nearly forgotten: the dwarf woman Thorin promised his hand to many years ago. 

Which is fine. It's all fine. It wasn't like Bilbo was falling in love with the king or anything. 

That would be tragic.

Super precious.

Impulse Decisions by listerinezero

X-Men | Erik/Charles | Explicit | 40,760 words

Erik wakes up in Las Vegas with a hell of a hangover, a telepath in his bed, and a ring on his finger. Now what?

This is a very nice rom-com.

Into the Fray by miss_aphelion

X-Men | Erik/Charles | Explicit | 31,770 words

Every year, two alphas are chosen from each district for a fight to death, and every year, a single omega is chosen to join them in the arena as the prize. 

Erik Lehnsherr's name has been drawn to compete as an alpha tribute and he is set solely on survival, but he hadn't exactly counted on Charles, the mysterious omega tribute that isn't playing by any of the rules. Hunger Games AU.

Very very nice. I didn't think i'd be interested in a Hunger Games fusion; this story proved me wrong.

No Longer in Silence by Black_Betty

X-Men | Erik/Charles | Explicit | 26,250 words

It has been eight years since Charles has seen Erik. Eight years since they parted under unkind circumstances and Erik went off to sea. The boy he once knew is Captain Lehnsherr now and they are as known to one another as strangers, and yet--Charles finds that eight years has done nothing to diminish the feelings he had when he was 16 and in love.

It's unfortunate then that Erik doesn't feel the same way.

Great Persuasion AU. No magical lack of homophobia in this AU which is a shame, but the ending is still satisfying.

Spectral Bodies in Orbit by Orockthro

Mandalorian | Din/Luke | Teen | 27,690 words

Luke wants the New Republic to back and fund his plans for the new Jedi Order, Bo-Katan wants Mandalore to rise to its previous glory, Leia wants a system of governance that is functional, and Din wants a nap.

Super charming!

Broken Threads by Sadie1902

Mandalorian | Din/Luke | Teen | 78,900 words

The battle is over, the rebels have won. But Luke Skywalker is still reeling from his ordeal in the Emperor's throne room, both physically and emotionally. Wracked with pain and fatigue, he tries to recuperate on Endor with a few days of much-needed rest. But before he even has a chance to relax, he's captured by an enterprising bounty hunter in Mandalorian armor. 

Din Djarin can't believe his luck. It's the score of his life, the bounty they all said was impossible. The payout will set his Tribe up well... so long as they don't know exactly who he made a deal with. But the job turns out to be more than Din bargained for when his bounty collapses from mysterious injuries, and he must face the truth of the horrors the Empire has wrought. 

Now, on the run from half the galaxy, it's a race against time as Din helps Luke find a cure for the disease that's slowly breaking the hero apart. There's only one problem... they need a Jedi. And Luke is the last of his kind. 

Or is he?

Really good! Nice adventure, an AU backstory with hurt!Luke and protective!Din and a very slow-moving well-earned romance.

dearly departed by attheborder

Good Omens | Aziraphale/Crowley | Teen | 29,770 words

Finally, Aziraphale spoke. “You mean to say— you got us married?”

“Just as a precaution, I never really thought I’d end up discorporated again, it’d been ages, you just don’t get stampedes or assassinations like you used to —”

“You got us married, and you didn’t tell me?”

Delightful writing! This is as cute as it gets between a demon and an angel.

What the Deep Heart Means by unpossible

MCU | Clint/Coulson | Explicit | 54,580 words

Clint doesn’t want to go out. Doesn’t want to make conversation, doesn’t even want to eat. But he can’t show any of that, not if he doesn’t want to be rendered inactive by the psychs. Being useful is all he has left.

What he does want, mostly, is to be taken out back like Old Yeller. But that isn’t an option. He doesn’t get the easy way out.

Absolutely delicious angst. Clint pretends to keep it together after Coulson's death. Then Coulson comes back and he kind of... shatters.

Wasn't Born A Beauty Queen (But I'm Okay With That) by thatdamneddame 

MCU | Clint/Coulson | Teen | 38,580 words

Philippa Coulson became Fury’s One Good Eye by being smart and relentlessly competent and notoriously difficult to faze.

This is a thing of beauty. Female Coulson. 38K words of mutual pining.

Words May Fail (The Body Remains) by ladyflowdi

MCU | Clint/Coulson | Explicit | 56,500 words

There's a beginning to every love story, Clint knows. Theirs just has more bullets and crazy people.

Great story of their whole relationship. Made me cry more than once. I wished more from the epilogue but not everyone has my love of 10K epilogues, so I'm used to not getting what I want in that respect.

Package Deal by Ralkana

MCU | Clint/Coulson | Teen | 12,300 words

Clint's new neighbor Phil is gorgeous, Phil's little girl Ella is adorable, and Clint finds himself completely drawn in by the combination.

I thought this was gonna be one of those fics in a bad way, but it turned out to be one of those fics in a cute way.

[itsallagatha]

Agatha x OFC

Part 4

wc: 2214

warnings: mentions of implied smut?

Enjoy! 💜

A fire seemed to ignite within Agatha. She had to learn how to break this spell, and fast. After careful investigation the next morning, Agatha determined Elara had no memory of the nightmares or even “Agnes” comforting her. Agatha had yet to decide if that was a blessing or a curse. There was a new glint of pain behind her wife’s eyes that wasn’t there before that only grew with each night’s passing. Every night Elara would cry out and Agatha would be by her side in a moment only leaving once dawn broke. When the two crossed paths again in the morning, Elara would appear right as rain outwardly, but Agatha could now feel her mind screaming out just like everyone else’s in this god forsaken town. It broke her heart.

Wanda had seemingly given Elara a daily routine, or rather a daily task: a walk with Wanda herself around town. The first time Elara left, Agatha impatiently sat on her front porch with a magazine, waiting for Elara’s return, ready to punt their witchy neighbor half way across town if even a finger was laid on her wife.

Of course when she spotted Wanda walking her up the driveway, everything was fine. A bubbly laugh escaping Elara’s lips as the two approached Agatha. It didn’t quite quell all her nerves, but she stepped into her “nosy neighbor” role nonetheless. “Sounds like you two had a darling romp around town!”

“We absolutely did!” Wanda replied. “I have to say, I’m quite jealous you get this charming girl’s company all to yourself, Agnes. Ella is just splendid company.”

Agatha’s eyes narrowed as she watched Elara glance to the ground as a rosy tint began to cover her features. “I couldn’t agree more.”

“And to think this gal’s single! I couldn’t believe my ears when she told me!”

As Wanda reached a hand out to grab Elara’s shoulder, Agatha stepped forward, slinking an arm around the girl’s waist and pulling her in tightly to her side. “I thought she’d gotten hitched centuries ago, but no cigar!”

Ella’s breath hitched as she felt an arm pull her close, looking up she saw it was Agnes and was even more surprised to find those icy baby blues staring into her own green ones. She quickly looked away, desperately trying to find anything to grab her focus as to not give away her feelings, though Ella was sure her face was as bright as a tomato by now.

“Will I be seeing you two at Dottie’s tomorrow?”

“You bet, sweet cheeks! You let us know if you need anything beforehand!”

Wanda said her goodbyes and turned to go, but not before giving a wink to Ella which Agatha absolutely noticed and stiffened her hold on her waist, quickly leading her back inside the door. “Now, you’ll have to tell me what you two got up to today!”

Ella took a seat on the couch with Agnes and picked up one of the glasses of lemonade laid out on the coffee table. “Oh, you know, everything and nothing,” she answered vaguely.

“Right…”

-//-

Little did Agatha know, Elara had spent her walk with Wanda sharing just how much she was falling for the beautiful woman who had offered her a place to stay. She had serious feelings for the brunette despite just meeting and Wanda had offered her ideas and advice on how to woo their beloved nosy neighbor before it was too late.

“I don’t know why, I just feel we are destined to be together, Wanda!” Ella had told the redhead.

Wanda smiled and patted the arm linked with hers, “Well, how about you whip up a nice meal, set out some candles, and tell her over dessert! Between you and me, I wouldn’t be surprised if she felt the same way.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so! I’ve seen the way she looks at you!”

“I just don’t want to make a fool of myself. I get so nervous around her.”

Wanda paused, thinking hard for a moment when suddenly an idea hit her. “I know! I’ll stop by right before and drop off a bottle of champagne! I have some leftover bottles from Vision and I’s wedding! A little bit of liquid courage couldn’t hurt.”

“Oh Wanda, I could never accept! I wouldn’t want to take something from your special day!”

“Please, we have plenty to save as keepsakes. And Vision doesn’t drink much of anything. I can’t possibly let it all just sit around the place. It’s no bother really!”

“Only if you're certain.”

“Positive.”

-//-

Ella must have been lost in thought because Agnes had begun to call her name. She finally came back to the present when she felt a cold hand press against her cheek. “I’m so sorry, Agnes, I got lost in my thoughts.”

“It’s alright, doll, just making sure you’re okay.”

After their little chat, Agatha put away the glasses and pitcher full of lemonade and returned to the basement to continue her studies. Usually she’d astral project into her lair and continue her day to day through her physical body up above, but Agatha found herself too distracted, needing to physically touch the ancient spell books as she scoured them for answers.

Reversing a mind control spell was easy. Agatha could practically do it in her sleep. But this magic was different, it was strangely powerful and deeply rooted in the minds of those living in Westview. It was unlike anything she had witnessed before. A moment of clarity hit the witch as she looked up from the book she was holding, her eyes falling onto the Dark Hold which was situated across the room on its own pedestal.

No…

Setting the spell book aside, Agatha called the Dark Hold towards her and began magically flipping through its pages until she found the section she was looking for.

The Scarlet Witch

Now she was making progress. Agatha read the pages over and over again, refreshing her knowledge on chaos magic and the dangers it ensued as well as, of course, ways to counteract it. This was a dangerous magic much more powerful than her own. Not to mention being weld by a mourning, thirty something, Avenger. There was no way in heaven she was going to experiment with chaos magic on her wife. So Agatha decided then and there.

She needed a victim.

Thankfully the two were slated to go to some meeting with Dottie tomorrow granting Agatha the perfect opportunity to sniff out someone off of Wanda’s radar.

-//-

Just as she was setting the Dark Hold back into place, Agatha heard the soft lilt of Elara’s voice calling for her, so she quickly checked her appearance and made her way upstairs.

“Sorry, hun, time must have slipped away from me down there-“ Agatha frowned and looked around, Elara nowhere to be found. “Ella, dear, where are you?”

“Out back!”

Curiosity peaked, Agatha made her way out the back door, through the kitchen. She was a little taken aback by the sight in front of her. The table was set out on the back patio, with candles, and a home made meal ready for the two to enjoy.

“Do you like it?”

Agatha turned to look at Elara and gasped. She was wearing a sleeveless, pastel pink dress with a lace overlay. Her hair was no longer tied away and fell just past her shoulders in perfect curls. She looked absolutely stunning.

Elara cleared her throat causing Agatha to blink, remembering she’d been asked a question. “Apologies dear, you're just a...a vision in pink over there, I simply…” Agatha let an awkward chuckle slip, not usually one to be caught speechless.

A grin broke out on Ella’s face, proud she had rendered the brunette a stuttering mess. Perhaps Wanda was right all along?

As they sat down to eat, Agatha noticed the bottle of champagne. “I didn’t think I had any champagne on hand.”

“Oh it was a gift from Wanda. Something about me being new to the neighborhood.” Ella shrugged it off.

“Wanda?”

“She dropped it off while you were downstairs.”

-//-

Once the two finished their meal, Elara moved to pop the cork, but Agatha grabbed her hand before she could. “Here let me, it’s the least I can do.” Agatha stood up and made her way inside having every intention to make sure the bottle wasn’t some kind of poison. “I’ll be right back, doll!”

Left to her thoughts, Ella began to run the past half hour over in her mind. Dinner had gone surprisingly well. Agnes had only caught her staring once or twice. They had started off making small talk about the upcoming events in Westview but somehow their conversation had turned to Ella’s past. To which Ella didn’t have much to say. All she knew was that she had been lonely, possibly upset and wanted a fresh start and before she knew it she was in Westview. Agnes looked upset upon hearing that she had been lonely and began apologizing. Ella merely laughed, thinking it strange how Agnes felt the need to apologize, ensuring her everything was okay. After all, since arriving in Westview everything had been going swimmingly so she couldn’t complain.

Hearing the back door swing open, then shut, Ella was pulled out of her thoughts and smiled as Agnes walked back to the table with the now open bottle. “Sorry to keep you waiting, hun, this bottle put up quite a fight!”

Elara giggled and Agatha returned to her seat across from her. “Now, are you sure you want a glass, dear?”

“I honestly can’t remember the last time I’ve had a drink. It’ll be nice.”

Agatha remembered.

What an ordeal it had been too. Despite being in her early hundreds, Elara was a lightweight compared to Agatha who could drink almost anything and never feel a thing, much to Elara’s chagrin. On that particular night after a rather stressful magic lesson, the two decided to drink and one vodka soda later, Elara was attacking Agatha’s mouth with her own while various articles of her clothing had begun finding their way to the floor.

“Alrighty.” Agatha filled the two flute glasses and handed one to Elara before raising her own to her lips.

After the first glass the two decided to move inside to the couch. Agatha used her magic to put away the dishes that were outside.

Elara finished her second glass before her thoughts started slipping from her mouth unwarranted. Agatha merely cocked an eyebrow in amusement as she watched her tipsy wife passionately describe the ducks she had seen in the park during her walk with Wanda.

“That’s when Wanda gave me the idea. To make dinner tonight.”

“She did?”

“Yes!” Elara answered a little too enthusiastically. “I was supposed to seduce you but I think I forgot. Every time I look at you I...I forget everything I’m thinking, so I don’t know why I’m surprised.”

Agatha smirked, “Well my apologies for having that effect on you, love.” She then faked a whisper, “Can I tell you a secret?” Elara nodded and Agatha continued, “You make me feel the same way.”

Agatha laughed as Elara’s jaw dropped. “You’re too cute, toots.”

Ella felt a blush creep up her neck and poured another glass to hide her embarrassment. “I was afraid you’d think it strange, considering we just met a few days ago.”

-//-

Elara was completely gone after her third glass, and as usual, Agatha was completely unbothered. She was about to take Elara to bed when Agatha decided she’d take advantage of the situation, try and get a few more answers out of her about why she ended up in Westview. Perhaps the alcohol would let some memories slip through.

“I’ve already told you...I have no idea…”

“I know doll, but surely you remember something?”

After a moment Elara gasped as if all of a sudden she knew. In her excitement, she moved to sit on her knees and held Agatha’s shoulders. “I was...I was looking for something! Someone?”

“What darling? Who?” Finally they were getting somewhere. However her excitement was short-lived.

Elara started softly giggling again. “I like it when you call me that...darling.”

“And I like it when you answer my questions.” Agatha took Elara’s hands in her own, removing them from her shoulders. “Who were you looking for?”

Elara thought for a moment, searching for answers in Agatha’s face. “For some reason I think...I think I found her. Have we...do we know each other?”

Agatha merely frowned.

“I’m sorry, I really am!” Elara started giggling yet again, “It’s just, you’re very distracting. In a good way though! I mean...I think you're gorgeous. Kiss me?”

Agatha quickly grabbed her waist as Elara leaned in, trying to push her back, but it didn’t work. With a sigh and a wave of her hand, Agatha put her to sleep before anything could happen. Married or not, the idea of taking advantage of her giddy, under the influence, mind controlled wife didn’t sit right with Agatha. Slowly lowering Elara’s now limp body down onto the couch, she placed her head in her lap and began lazily twirling pieces of Elara’s blonde hair between her fingers.

“Well, that went well.”

[cadence-talle]

Moonlight Burst Into the Room

Pairing: Marella Redek/Linh Song

Wordcount: 2,203

TW: mentions of transphobia 

Notes: For @marellinh-week-2020​! Doesn’t totally fit any of the prompts besides First Kiss/Confession so let’s just pretend I posted it then instead of several days late 

Taglist: @everyonehasthoughts, @clearlykeefitz, @loverofallthingssmart, @a-lonely-tatertot, @enbies-and-felonies, @molly-sencen, @lemontarto, @appalyneinstitute1, @ruewen-and-rising, @silver-snow, @linhamon-roll, @hyperlollypop, @never-ever-too-many-fandoms, @keeper-of-the-lost-queers, @impostertamsong, @vibing-in-the-void, @yeetersofthelostcities, @mistythegirlfluxmess, @diamond-dreamerr, @we-have-no-bananas-today, @an-absolute-travesty, @callas-starkflower-stew

Linh has never had a nickname. 

When she was younger, still living with her parents, names were a point of frustration. Her parents never used pet names, which meant they always referred to her by her given name- the wrong name. Always the wrong name, until Linh had to tell them to stop. 

(That conversation was quiet, hushed, like her parents couldn’t quite believe it. They had simply stared at her when she said I’m a girl and then shared a long look.)

Her parents had called her Linh from then on, but it still felt strictly impersonal. As if a wall of water had sprung up between them and drowned any hope of parental affection. 

Once they were banished, names were hardly ever used. Elves at Exillium weren’t considered to have names; they were referred to in a group or not at all. So Linh grew accustomed to turning at a simple shout, to only hearing her name spoken by her brother. Lonely? Sure, but at least she didn’t have to hear that disappointed sigh of Linh whenever she messed up.

(The way Tam said her name wasn’t disappointed, not ever. But it was resigned, like he knew he was the only one who would ever say it. Like he had come to terms with the fact that they were going to fade into oblivion.)

Then Sophie turned up and ushered them into her friend group, into warmth and belonging and people talking to Linh. People saying her name.

Sophie’s group didn’t use nicknames much- besides Keefe, of course, who seemed to be in a competition against himself to come up with the most ridiculous titles for Sophie- but just hearing her name said in a way that told Linh people wanted her here was enough. 

And then Marella Redek becomes a bigger part of Linh’s life, her fiery temper charging into arguments and her endless vocabulary of pet names filling the air, and Linh doesn’t know what to do with herself. 

-/-

“Hey, sweetheart, could you grab me that box?”

Linh turns just in time to see Dex hand Marella the small wooden box in question with a confused look. The blond girl grins at him and opens the box, digging through its contents. “Ooh, a necklace! And… Prattles?”

She holds up the package for all to see. The three of them are the only kids at Havenfield today- the others are all off on various errands. Even Sophie’s out in Atlantis, shopping with Biana. Linh doesn’t mind much, though, even as they embark on the laborious task of sorting through the stuff in Edaline’s cluttered office. She’s still marveling at the fact that she has friends now. 

“They’re probably really stale by now,” Dex says. Marella shrugs, ripping off the top and popping a candy into her mouth. She makes a face.

“Oh, ew. Why did you two let me eat that?”

Linh giggles and Marella smiles at her. There’s a strange flush on the other girl’s cheeks, and Linh wonders if you can get sick from eating old Prattles. She hopes not. 

“He did warn you,” Linh points out. Marella puts a hand over her heart in mock insult. 

“Betrayal! I thought we were friends, sweetie.”

Linh shrugs nonchalantly, trying to hide the warmth she can feel creeping up her neck. Marella does this all the time, she reminds herself, and Linh just needs to get used to it. “Sorry. All’s fair in lov- in war and stale Prattles.”

Dex snorts, shooting Linh a knowing look. Linh blinks and he shakes his head. “We should get back to cleaning. Marella, put the Prattles down.”

Marella, who is apparently a three-year-old in the body of a fifteen-year-old, shoves two more Prattles into her mouth and pockets the drawstring bag that holds the pin. Dex rolls his eyes and turns to a huge green chest. Marella nudges Linh’s ankle with her foot. 

“You know, hon, this stuff really isn’t bad. You wanna try?” She holds out the box. 

Linh shakes her head and Marella puts the package away. Linh’s thoughts, though, can’t be dislodged so easily, and the word hon echoes in her mind for the rest of the day. 

-/-

The transition from Exillium to Foxfire was a hurried one, a few busy days of reading schedules and getting used to being around normal people again. It felt almost too fast in the moment, too quick for even the little they were leaving behind.

Linh has left a lot of things behind in her life. She doesn’t miss them most of the time, but on days like this- days where it’s quiet and cool and the winds whipping past her sound eerily like the whispers in her head- it’s hard not to remember. 

She wanders outside of Solreef, settling down under a tree where she won’t be directly visible from the house. The grass around her is still slightly damp with dew, and Linh tugs a few blades out of the ground to fiddle with. 

Tiergan’s house is very different from anywhere she’s ever lived. The rooms are large and sprawling but still cozy, perhaps made so by the various pillows and classified scrolls that are scattered across nearly every surface. It’s not the rugged landscape of Wildwood nor the smoothed edges of Choralmere, and Linh is glad. Things are calm here, but not so calm she’s afraid to walk on anything but tiptoe. 

She broke a vase, once. One of her mother’s heirlooms. Tam had been chasing her through the house and Linh hadn’t had a chance to slow down in time. Quan had shouted louder than she had ever heard, too angry to even call Linh by the right name. 

It’s been years since that event, but the disappointment still presses on Linh’s skin. Covers her like a heavy blanket woven from sad sighs and ignorant comments and constant dissatisfied looks. The idea that Linh would never be enough. 

Will never be enough, no matter what she does. 

(There have been too many conversations for her to ever disprove that.)

“Linh?”

Abruptly, Linh realizes she hasn’t been breathing. She breaks away from the fixed point she’s been staring at and pastes a smile on her face. 

“Marella! Hey, sorry, I must have forgotten you were coming today.”

“You didn’t,” the blond girl responds, sinking down next to Linh. “I wanted to surprise you. Are you okay?”

“What? I’m fine. Why?”

Marella gives her an utterly unimpressed look. 

“Hon. You looked about five seconds away from crying when I showed up. And that’s not a bad thing,” she hurries to add when Linh opens her mouth to apologize. “I just want to help, if I can.”

“I-” Linh trails off, staring at the ground. “I was just thinking. About… stuff. Names. Memories.”

“Huh.” Marella doesn’t press, which Linh is thankful for. “Names can be weird sometimes,” she says carefully, turning to face Linh. “My mom- on her better days, she calls me Ella.”

Linh blinks. “I thought you didn’t like being called Ella.” Marella had almost taken Keefe’s head off when he had called her that once. Marella shrugs. 

“I don’t know. It’s different when Mom does it. It tells me… she’s there, I guess. She’s there and she loves me.” Marella worries her bottom lip between her teeth. “It’s hard to see, sometimes. What she’s going to do. What I’m supposed to do when she gets frantic or starts crying.” 

“I get that. Well. Not the ‘frantic and crying’ part, but I get not knowing what to do.”

Marella smiles, a tiny, crooked thing. “I thought you would, sweetie.”

Linh turns back to the landscape, staring out at it. Next to her, Marella shifts so she’s facing the same direction. Her eyes are still fixed on Linh, though. Maybe it’s that, or maybe it’s the sweetie, but Linh speaks up a few moments later. 

“My parents… didn’t always remember to call me Linh.” She says, testing the waters. Marella’s head inclines a tiny bit, encouraging her to go on. 

So Linh does. She tells the whole story, all those lonely years in Choralmere and then the too-free years in Wildwood. She’s never had to tell anyone that before- Tam has always known, and neither of them needed to say it out loud. 

When she finishes, Marella is silent. Linh worries she’s made a huge mistake. 

“Sorry,” she says quietly. “You don’t have to- I mean, I know this changes-”

“Hey, darling.” Marella shifts to sit on her knees in front of Linh, leaning forward and grabbing her hands. “This doesn’t change anything, okay. I mean, obviously it does,” she says thoughtfully, “but you’re still Linh, okay? You’re still Linh and you’re still beautiful. And I totally understand if you don’t want me to make a big deal out of this, but if you do, I happen to throw legendary parties.” 

Linh laughs, a half-choked sound of relief. Marella settles back against the tree with a grin and they stare at the horizon again. 

“Thanks,” Linh says after a moment. Marella gives her a thumbs-up.

“What are friends for, right?”

“Yeah.” Yeah, Linh reminds herself. Friends. 

-/-

“Whoa. Hon, look at this.” Marella pulls a tiny marble out of a box, glittering pale yellow and about the size of her thumbnail. Linh would almost mistake it for a Councillor’s cache if it weren’t for the absence of tiny jewels inside. 

They’re back in Edaline’s office, digging through piles of junk, but this time it’s just the two of them. Linh is halfway sure that’s intentional, actually- even Grady and Edaline suddenly decided to take an impromptu trip to Mysterium today. They have Havenfield all to themselves. 

(That sentence seems to fill Linh’s stomach with the mechanical butterflies they accidentally unleashed earlier. She doesn’t think about that too hard.)

(If she does, she knows she’ll find out something very odd about why she always feels warm when Marella calls her a pet name.)

“What is it?” She asks Marella. The other girl lifts one shoulder. 

“I don’t know, but it’s pretty. Let’s see...”

She taps the marble with two fingers and the lights cut out. They come back a few seconds later, Marella grinning sheepishly.

“Whoops. Sorry, sweetheart-”

“Stop calling me that.”

The words are out before Linh can stop them, and she flounders. “I mean- I just-” She shakes her head. “I can’t. Not when I know…” You don’t mean them, she finishes mentally. It hurts too much to hear you throw them out that easily. 

Marella’s expression shutters and she looks away. “Right,” she says, sounding oddly defeated. “Of course.”

She turns around, muttering “of course you would have figured it out” under her breath. Linh frowns and, since her mouth and her brain seem to be operating on different planes of existence today, says,

“What? Figured out what?” Her tone is almost challenging, but even Linh isn’t entirely sure why. Marella turns back around, arms crossed defensively.

“Really. You’re really gonna make me say it?”

“Say what?”

Marella throws up her hands. “Fine. I like you, okay? Is that what you wanted?” Her voice drops lower, less frustrated and more finished. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be weird. I’ll get over it.”

“You. You like me?” 

Marella doesn’t respond, already sorting through another pile. Linh takes a deep breath and uses what’s left of her courage. 

“I didn’t know that. I wanted you to stop calling me pet names because I thought they didn’t mean anything to you.”

Marella pauses. Straightens up. 

“They did,” she says, so softly it’s almost imperceptible. “They all did.” 

“They meant something to me too.” 

Edaline’s office is quiet. Linh doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, tries not to even think until Marella turns her head. 

“I hear there’s a really good restaurant in downtown Atlantis,” she says. It’s a question, an outstretched hand. Linh smiles and takes it. 

“That sounds amazing,” she responds. “Honey.”

The marble slips from Marella’s fingers and the lights turn off again. Marella’s smile, though, is enough to brighten the room. 

-/-

When she was little, Linh never had a nickname. 

They were too frivolous for her parents, too unnecessary for the people who sometimes forgot to even call her Linh. Nicknames weren’t needed for someone who barely had a name at all. 

Nicknames are never really needed, but they’re used here. 

“Mare,” she calls across their small kitchen, “we need to go.”

“I’m here! I’m ready,” Marella responds breathlessly, pecking Linh on the cheek as she rushes to pull her coat on. 

“Bi is going skin us alive if we’re late to Sophie’s party.”

“Good thing we’re not late then, sweetie.” Marella grins at her and moves out of the door. They are late, actually, but neither of them really care. 

It hits Linh sometimes, how very different her life is now. She has friends, and family, and a wonderful wife who deserves the world. 

(The ring on her finger seems to shine. That conversation was feather-light and delighted, a gasped yes and cheers from all their friends.)

“Hon, come on!”

She has a nickname now. Dozens, in fact. But she also has a name.

Linh Redek steps out the door. 

[welllpthisishappening]

But Once a Year (5/5)

This is a trick.

It has to be. Something Pan planned, or some nonsense only possible in Neverland, because one second Emma’s sitting outside the Echo Caves and wondering how exactly things could possibly get worse, and then the world decides to take her up on the challenge. She’s not where she was. Or when she was, either.

And the future isn’t entirely what Emma expects it to be, but that might not be entirely horrible and Christmas with a husband and a family that quite clearly loves her is only kind of messing with her head. God bless us, every one.

————

Rating: T Word Count: 10K — canon had to catch up, and stuff had to happen, and happily ever after requires some adjectives AN: Guys! This is a completed story! One I had absolutely no intention whatsoever of writing. For that am even more grateful than usual that you all clicked and read and said very nice things. It’s always an absolute joy to write about these two idiots falling in love. I hope your holidays were fantastic, and January is very kind to you, and I am taking suggestions as to what I should write in 2021. (Or: if I should just post a bunch of fic I’ve already written, there’s so much fic already written)

Ao3 links in the reblog, because Tumblr’s tagging system is something of a colossal joke. 

————

She’s got no idea where Killian went.

Especially impressive since they haven’t left the house yet, but the house is also fairly massive and there are a lot of people and some of them have magic, and most of them have weapons, and one of Emma’s knees cracks when she crouches in front of Hope.

Who is wearing pajamas that match Lucy’s, and holding a stuffed animal whose right arm appears to be holding on by a quite literal thread, and has absolutely no idea what’s going on.

It’s a strangely positive thing.

“You’re going to be ok,” Emma tells her daughter, which she hopes isn’t the lie it feels like. “Everything’s going to be ok. We’re just—we’ll be back soon, alright?” That’s not really a lie, either. Depending on how the next ten minutes or so, go. And part of Emma expects impatience — from the other adults nearby, magical or otherwise, but a quick glance over her shoulder only shows Mary Margaret wiping away tears, and Regina’s lips have all but disappeared behind her teeth, and the overall tightness of David’s jaw cannot possibly good for any of his teeth.

Taking a deep breath is an exceptional challenge.

“For presents?” Hope asks, and it takes Emma a moment to understand the question. Nodding hurts her neck. And, like, her heart.

No one turns off their Christmas tree in this future, it seems. Colors splash across one of Hope’s cheeks, what feels like several thousand emotions and at least a dozen internal organs twisting in Emma’s center and she barely manages to rasp out, “yeah, of course,” before there’s moisture in her eyes and her vision is going blurry and at the very least it’s comforting to know that one of the steps in her parent’s house creaks too.

“Emma,” Regina murmurs, and she’s nodding again. Hair brushes the hand that’s landed on her shoulder, as warm as ever, but there’s tension in the move as well and Killian’s lips don’t shift when Emma tilts her head up.

Something’s going on. More than the obvious. And she wants to ask, she does — but the worry churning in her gut moves to the center of her throat, and makes it impossible to voice questions or demand anything more than what he’s already given, and they’ve got no idea how to get her back. Except for—

Killian’s eyebrows lift. Ever so slightly, barely enough movement that it should even count, but Emma’s become something of an expert on his face in the last few days, and she can’t blink away the tears fast enough. Mourning something that’s happened and hasn’t, and absolutely needs to.

She can’t ruin this.

Plastering a wholly unnatural smile on her face, Ruby lets out a huff of air as she marches forward and scoops Hope into her arms. “For presents,” she repeats, “Mom wouldn’t miss that, would she?” Emma shakes her head. Seriously, every inch of her aches. With those pesky emotions and magic, and she cannot fathom how she manages to stand back up without falling over, but then there are fingers tangled up with hers and she’s brushing strands of hair away from Hope’s eyes, and leaning forward to kiss the bridge of her nose and—

“I love you.”

Whispers flood her ears, soft enough that for a second Emma truly believes she imagines them, but none of this has been the dream she’d convinced herself it had to be, and the sound isn’t as terrifying as it should be. Is like the excitement borne of picturesque Christmas mornings, and a ridiculous number of cookies, and magically-maintained snowmen.

Killian’s eyes widen, ever so slightly. Part two.

“Dor and I’ll stay here,” Ruby says, seemingly unconcerned with whatever’s happening between Emma’s ears, but Killian’s staring again and Emma’s barely breathing and she probably nods if the movement of her hair is any indication.

More instructions are doled out, plans Emma only half listens to while also trying to stay conscious and it’s only after the screen door slams behind them that she realize she doesn’t actually have a weapon. She’s fairly certain she won’t need it.

Because she’s absolutely positive this is going to work.

Well, she hopes at least.

“Don’t let go, ok?” she mumbles, mostly into Killian’s shirt and he kisses her hair. More than once, like he’s trying to reach a quota and that’s only kind of depressing, but then there’s magic stretching around them and inching up the back of Emma’s calves and she hopes she hears what she thinks she hears.

When he mutters “never” in her ear.

If there were any doubts that they were dealing with the disintegrating fabric of reality, they’re all immediately dismissed as soon as Emma opens her eyes. Trees bend in the middle of their trunks, broken branches littering the ground as what feels like genuine electricity crackles in the air, sending sparks that occasionally rain down like they believe they’re drops of water and allowed to do that.

Clouds that look suspiciously familiar, but lack that hint of magically-induced purple, blot out any sort of light in the sky. They’re puffier than they should be — the clouds, and also Emma’s eyes because she might be crying again, and she’s not particularly knowledgeable about meteorology. Still, she’s seen more than one curse broken and this isn’t quite the same. The lack of color dries out her mouth, although that may also be because she suddenly can’t catch her breath.

Magic tugs at her brain and her muscles, rising up in defense and something that isn’t really bravery. More like fear, at what the clouds can do and what they’ve already done, and the soft whoosh of Killian’s sword leaving its scabbard is far more comforting than it should be.

Wearing those pants with the sword belt is something Emma doesn’t want to forget. “Kinda looks like they’re eating everything in their way, doesn’t it?” she breathes. “Like, it’s—pulling everything up out of the ground, wrecking it at the foundation.”

“Not exactly ideal, is it?”

“You’re making jokes.” “If I don’t know, I’m fairly certain I’ll fall over.”

Scoffing, Emma licks her lips, and that doesn’t do anything except momentarily wet her lips, but her heart’s also trying to explode and the pop of Regina’s teleporting ability is loud enough to make both of them flinch.

“Oh shit,” Henry mutters, wielding his own sword. Both of those things are going to take Emma some time to get used to. Which she doesn’t have.

Not when tiny whirlwinds explode around her ankles, caking her jeans with leaves and dirt-filled snow, and she briefly wonders if that’s because of her or just bad timing on their arrival. Feels like an insult all the same.

“So, uh,” David says slowly, “what do we do about this, then?” Rolling her whole head seems like an entirely excessive response, but Emma supposes Regina’s never been one for subtlety and it is still kind of impressive when she does the flame thing. Fire jumps between her fingers, like one of those bouncing balls on sing-along VHS tapes, and really the answer is pretty simple. “Emma needs to leave. Weeks ago, if we’re being frank, but—” “—We’re not being frank, are we, Your Majesty?” Killian interrupts, low and a little more pirate than he’s been since Emma woke up here. Regina tilts her head. Her neck muscles don’t appear to be dealing with the same limitations Emma’s are.

“How do we do that, though?” Ella asks. “We’ve—I mean, we’ve tried just about everything haven’t we? Zelena’s spell didn’t work.” Regina hums. Looks a little smug, but with a hint of worry that’s also oddly comforting in a slightly vindictive way and there’s no warning before Tinker Bell appears in front of them. Smaller than usual, with wings that move as quickly as a hummingbirds and Emma’s eyes widen so quickly they manage to water even more and it’s easier to hear Killian’s soft laugh when he pulls her against his side.

What looks like sparkles, but may actually be pixie dust floats in the air, Regina’s sigh of impatience barely passing her lips before Tinker Bell is a full-sized person again and that full-sized person looks as terrified as the situation demands and— “Wonderland’s gone too,” she announces. “I only just got out.” Emma’s eyes are going to fall out of her face. It will be gross and undoubtedly uncomfortable. “Out. What does—what does that mean, exactly?” “What it sounds like. It was—” Shuddering, Tinker Bell wraps both arms around her middle, as if she’s trying to ensure she doesn’t fall apart either, and guilt appears to be the prevailing emotion threatening to sever Emma’s spleen at the moment. She’s only partially confident as to where her spleen even is. “Those,” Tinker Bell continues, pointing up at the clouds advancing on them, “they’re…cannibalized versions of magic.” “Oh,” Henry says, “gross.” Mary Margaret sniffles before she kisses him on the cheek. He’s holding Ella’s hand very tightly.

“It is,” Tinker Bell agrees, “because it’s all wrong. Broken, even. The opposite of what you’ve created here. Anything unified is gone, shattered from the inside out and—” “—That won’t stop, will it?” Emma asks, already knowing the answer. It’s been the same since the start, but it was so easy to fall into this start and live this life and she’s hardly noticed Regina. Lifting her hands towards the clouds like she could fight them, or stop them and her electricity metaphor had been almost accurate before.

Lightning explodes from Regina’s palms, feet a bit wider than usual while a muscle jumps in her temple, and the first brush of Killian’s thumb against Emma’s wrist makes her flinch again.

The clouds pause. For a moment.

Seem to shudder against the force of Regina’s power and strength, but there’s another crack and a branch that slams into the ground with an alarming speed, shaking the ground under yet a different pair of Emma’s boots, and, well—

That’s that, as they say.

Only they don’t ever mention the shadow-type vines that also explode from the ground. And for a breath, Emma’s not there. She’s sitting on different ground, in an entirely different realm, while her sword half hangs from the makeshift belt on her back and lights dance in front of her eyes. Blinking doesn’t do anything. Breathing heavily only makes the sound echo in her ears and air heave out of her lungs, and Emma can’t get her bearings. Is being twisted and torn until she’s certain she’ll be ripped apart. Right there, in the in-between, and—

No.

Giving in isn’t an option. She’s got people to save, and a kid to get back and a life to live. And the hand squeezing hers is tight enough to pull her back from a variety of edges. In any version of reality, she’s sure.

Head falling forward, Emma slams into something solid and that’s probably not another metaphor. Blades flash at the edge of her vision, both David and Henry moving quicker than she’s ever seen, while Mary Margaret slings arrow after arrow at something that isn’t entirely substantial and Killian’s hook moves under Emma’s chin.

At one point she might have thought that was a threat. She’s the world’s biggest idiot, obviously.

“No,” Tinker Bell replies, far later than is conversationally acceptable, honestly. “It won’t. Nothing will last if you don’t go back, Emma. It all hinges on you. That’s why Pan did this in the first place. He knew what you meant, to the whole world.” She groans. Like a goddamn hero.

“That might be a little heavy, Tink,” Killian mutters, and Emma makes another noise. Disbelief and charmed and wholly endeared, plus that other thing that she knows will make all the difference and at least eight of her knuckles crack. When she curls them into his shirt.

Patterned, naturally.

“Are you quoting things?” He nods. “You think it’s very cute.” “I’m not sure you could ever really be cute.”

“Is this honestly happening right now?” Regina snarls, sweat dotting her brow and Emma barely notices. Can’t really pull her eyes away from Killian when he’s smirking at her like that. “Flirting at the end of the world?” “Seems as good a time as any, doesn’t it?” Emma challenges. More pixie dust falls on the forest floor, shining brightly for a few prolonged seconds. That’s something of a confidence boost.

For Emma. And her feelings. And her plan, half-cocked as it may be.

“Expand on that for me,” Killian grins.

Keeping her head lifted is one of Emma’s more major successes. At least recently, and while her muscles don’t entirely appreciate it, the jut of her chin makes it easier for Killian’s fingers to ghost over the edge of her mouth and push into her hair and—

“Your eyelashes are unnaturally long,” she says, and the grin widens. “It drives me nuts.” “Does it just?” “Yeah, from like—the get, really. At first I thought it was a fairytale thing, y’know…have to be painfully attractive to be part of the story, but—” “—You end up in the book eventually.”

Heart explosion is not nearly as painful as Emma assumed it would be. If anything, it just makes her feel like she’s floating a bit and her magic gives her a buoyancy that leaves her lighter and softer and she turns into the palm cupping her cheek. “Spoilers,” she chides. “What do you—what do you think happens?” “When you go back, you mean?” Emma nods. Doesn’t really want the answer. Might actually be terrified of the answer, because the timeline is as knotted as it’s ever been and time travel is way more trouble than it’s worth. She’ll probably kick Peter Pan too, just to cover all her bases. “Will you,” she whispers, and holding Killian’s gaze is something of a rather disappointing miracle, “will you all—” “—I don’t think so.” “You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

One side of his mouth tilts up, eyeing her with passing amusement and that other emotion and his fingers trail towards the chain hanging around her neck. “Between the vaguely twisted compliments and the actual insults, I’m not entirely sure this is going to work, love.” “What isn’t going to work?” Henry asks sharply, swinging his sword through a shadow.

Grunting, one of Regina’s knees buckles as she continues to fight against the cloud and Ella’s back pressed against hers only just manages to keep her standing. “Get on with it, already,” she hisses. “Or at least try it.”

Nerves explode under Emma’s skin, racing up her arms and threatening to drown out the magic that’s as strong as it’s ever been because the magic is clearly smarter than her, and it’s unreasonable to think she’d be able to deal with that exact shade of blue in Killian’s eyes.

“You make sure I’m alright.”

He blinks. Fair, honestly. Words keep tumbling out of Emma without much thought, but she needs him to know this and this might be the crux of everything else and she’s nodding again. “Over and over,” she continues, “when we’re on the Jolly, and I’m—” “—In the crew’s quarters doing pull-ups.” “You remember that?”

“I’m rather attracted to you, you know that right?”

Laughing with tears in her eyes is as patently absurd as it is nice, and the shadows inch closer. “Could probably do with some reminding every now and then,” Emma admits, “but I, uh—that’s what happened before, too. Sitting outside the Echo Caves and you were supposed to be asleep. Showed up anyway, to make sure I was alright. You always do that.” “Something of a habit.” “So you’ve mentioned.” Humming, there’s not really any way for Killian to get closer to her, but he certainly tries and Emma hopes she doesn’t forget that either. She’s not entirely sure how her memories will deal with everything they’ve been through in the last few weeks. And, like—her life, but that sounds kind of melodramatic. “You don’t need me to take care of you,” Killian says softly, “but it’s—making sure you’re alright is like…making sure we’re following the right course.” “Am I the star in this analogy?” “Several times over,” he replies, “and it’s easy to follow.” “Oh, what was that about backhanded insults?”

Warm air brushes her face when he exhales, nosing at the tear stains her over-abundant emotions have left behind. “I have no idea what will happen,” Killian whispers, as if he’s speaking only for Emma and she supposes that’s at least partially true. “I doubt we’ll disappear, not when it appears time’s much less of a straight line than I originally anticipated, but Her Majesty was right. Nothing’s set in stone, love. That’s half the fun.” “Sounds like a hell of a gamble too.” “Aye, but you’ve also got a pirate who’s rather willing to cheat on your behalf.” “Did you use weighted dice?” He kisses her hair. The edges of her eyes. Down the bridge of her nose and just above her mouth, which is really a very cruel tease, but if they were running out of time earlier, then they’re operating on borrowed minutes now, and Emma’s calves almost audibly object when she pushes up on her toes.

“Just sleight of hand,” he says, “it’s very impressive, I know.” “Something like that, yeah.” “This wasn’t fair to you, Swan. To—to be thrown into this, and I can’t…”

Shaking her head, she’s never actually let go of his shirt, so Emma doesn’t have an excuse for how much her fingers tremble. “No, no, no, if you apologize I will step on your foot, I swear to any God you can come up with.” “Several, actually.” “Nerd,” she insults, and it’s as far away from that as it’s possible for a four-letter word to be. Killian’s eyes have gone glossy. “This wasn’t what he thought it’d be. Pan, I mean. He—he thought he’d take me off the board, keep me locked here because I’d be so tempted to stay and I—” A tree branch falls dangerously close to her right foot. “Well, obviously I was, but…” “But?” Emma presses her lips together. Ignores the ache in her legs and the area directly around her heart, taking more pleasure than she should in the overall circumference of Killian’s eyes while her magic practically sings. Soars out of her, until the ends of her hair light and the shadows don’t retreat, but they freeze for a second and that’s all she really needs. “Seeing it all,” Emma starts, “living it, that’s why I can go back. Because I want to live it. No cheating, no advancing to Go. God, fuck—am I really making Monopoly jokes right now?”

He beams. Stares at her like she’s that star, and a few other constellations for good measure. Possibly the Sun too, but Emma’s the one who’s all too willing to orbit around the whole lot of them, and she kisses him before she can think better of it.

“You make sure I’m alright,” she repeats, “ten-thousand times over, until I end up here. And it’s just not better, babe, it’s—it’s a life, a real one. The kind I used to think was some great, big joke, but that house is so big and our kids are so good, and it’s—” Killian wipes away the tears. For the best, really. Since Emma isn’t entirely sure she can unclench her fingers. “I love it,” she breathes, “I love—”

In any other situation, she’d almost resent being interrupted. As it is, being interrupted with the press of Killian’s mouth against hers is one of the better things that’s happened to her. Like, ever. And she’s already pressed up on her toes, so really the whole thing is pretty practical.

Tilting her head, Emma’s grip threatens to rip his shirt and her spine isn’t all that pleased at the arch she’s put it in, but his hand is flat against her back, the kind of steady presence she’s sure she could build everything around. They’ve gotten better at this, she thinks — less frenzied than it was in Neverland, but somehow even better, like they’re sitting on simmer, a low heat that simply exists and isn’t as overwhelming. She’s not sweating, at least. She’s wrapped in cashmere blankets, and comfort and some other word that starts with ‘c’ because Emma’s ability to linger on the alliterative in times of heightened feeling is actually pretty impressive.

At least until Killian’s tongue swipes the seam of her mouth, and they drift a hint closer to frenzied, and somewhere in the realm of desperate and she genuinely does not notice the first band of light.

Or the second, quite frankly.

It isn’t until the colors arch over them, and several people gasp, that Emma realizes they’ve done something fairly tremendous. Beams of glistening magic curl around them, some hanging from the bend of Emma’s elbow and the curve of Killian’s hook, draping either one of their shoulders and falling off the sleeves of their respective leather jackets.

“Holy shit,” Emma breathes, fully expecting Killian’s smile and hoping for his laugh and she’s done more hoping now than she has in the first twenty-nine years of her life.

Henry clicks his tongue. “Oh you can say it, huh?” “I’m your mom, that’s how it works.” More laughter, as out of place as ever, but the light doesn’t disappear immediately and Killian’s jaw has gone slack. “Has that not happened before, then?” Emma asks him.

“You called me babe.” Regina groans again. Henry snickers, ducking his head into Ella’s shoulder, and Emma’s not sure what her parents do, but her mom is definitely crying and she’s crying and there’s something shimmering on the other side of Tinker Bell.

“Told you it’d work,” she says with a knowing smile. “She just needed to get there. And, y’know, be willing to walk away. Which doesn’t sound as romantic as it is, now that I think about it, but might be kind of in the spirit of Christmas.”

Killian rolls his eyes.

“Yeah,” Emma nods, “that’s—” She cuts herself off that time, Killian’s fingers lacing through hers so he can give her hand three quick squeezes and that number was probably random. Maybe. True Love’s goddamn Kiss.

“Falling in love with you probably isn’t very easy, is it?”

The tears fall. Drop from the corners of his eyes onto cheeks, one of which has a scar on it and Emma wants to know how that happened. Wants to learn every single thing about him, and them and collective pronouns don’t quite terrify her anymore.

“Not always,” Killian agrees, another strange way of doing it, “but I do always think it’s worth it. For everything we get.” “This?” He nods. “And then some. Because you’re the single most stubborn lass I know, and Pan’s an absolute fool.” “Call me lass again, and see if I kiss you anymore.” “I’m almost confident on that front.”

Smiling doesn’t hurt. Doesn’t affect the muscles in her face, or the overall state of her heart, and that may have something to do with its exploding tendencies from earlier, but Emma’s eyes keep flickering towards that portal and everything ahead of her, and the wave of determination that crests her consciousness doesn’t take her by surprise.

She’s going to get this all back.

Like a Christmas present, waiting under the tree to be opened, and another promise and Killian squeezes her hand again. Before kissing her once more, in a way that doesn’t feel like a farewell, but has a hint of promise and expectation and Emma hugs Henry. And her parents. Glances at Regina, and goddamn Tinker Bell, and hugging Henry again simply makes sense. “Come save me, huh?” he murmurs into her hair. “That’s the plan,” Emma promises. Twisting her neck, Killian’s not more than an inch behind her, but the shadows threaten again, making it difficult to see him and eventually she’ll argue that’s why she doesn’t entirely notice when his hand moves, darting towards her pocket and back so quickly it’s not much more than a blur, and her lips barely brush his before they’re pulling away from each other.

To get back to each other.

“I’m going to love you an absolutely ridiculous amount,” Emma promises, and Killian’s eyes brighten. Brand themselves on all those memories, and even more feelings. “More than I do now, even.” “I look forward to it.”

Bumping her chin against her chest when she nods, Emma’s next inhale is shaky at best, but her steps are sure and she doesn’t feel anything when she falls backwards, or notice the way Regina’s hand shifts ever so slightly.

Her feet slam into the ground. Ground that hasn’t exploded with glowing, vaguely evil plants yet and that’s all it takes to set her plan into motion. He hadn’t remembered, after all. And Emma can only sort of remember now.

Smoke on the water, her thoughts drift through a haze that’s far more metaphorical than she entirely appreciates, and she makes it all of eight larger-than-usual steps before those same feet land on boots and she barely stops herself before she collides with Killian.

A Killian who looks at her like he’s surprised to find her there, but not entirely opposed to it, and whatever thoughts continue to cling to the forefront of Emma’s brain know what else he wouldn’t be entirely opposed to, and that’s not bad, might even be good and great and she can’t remember why her lips feel like they’re tingling. That’s—

Strange, that’s strange. As is the number of times she blinks, and his hook flies to her waist. To keep her steady. Or something. Magnets, maybe. “Swan, are you—” “—Fine, fine,” she breathes, only just able to keep from kissing him. Hard. His lips part slightly when she keeps staring at him, eyes tracing across his face like she’s recommitting it to memory, and she supposes she is, and he was coming to find her. All over again. “You’re here though, right? This isn’t…this is real?” Hair threatens to fall into his eyes, head at an angle that Emma is sure simply exists to torment her. “Why wouldn’t it be?” “I—I don’t know,” she admits, and it only sort of sounds like a lie. Emma shakes her head. That doesn’t help, really. “Is my mom still ignoring my dad?” “Very much so. You shouldn’t be out here, you know.” “Neal’s not dead, though?” “No,” Killian says, lips forming a perfect circle on the second letter. Emma’s staring at his lips. Again, or always. Or whatever, honestly.

“Ok, ok, that’s—that’s good, well maybe not the ignoring part, but we’ll figure that out and we’re going to figure this out.” “Wasn’t a question.” “No it wasn’t.” His eyes narrow, neck remaining at that angle. “Good. It shouldn’t be.” “Awfully confident of you.” “No, no, I’m only confident in you, love.” Something flutters at the back of Emma’s brain — part memory and even more desire, and this feels like something they’ve done already, but that can’t possibly be true and those particular words in that particular order are as honest as Emma’s heard. She must have fallen asleep.

“C’mon,” Killian continues, hand reaching for hers and she doesn’t pull away. She lets his fingers tangle with hers, and every squeeze against her palm is enough to settle her pulse and her magic, and he doesn’t let go of her until they get back to camp. Neither one of them mention how she doesn’t pull away, either.

They plan. Plot, and discuss and Neal’s something of an issue — as is her mother’s pointed and unnecessary romantic advice, but Emma knows her objections fall on deaf ears, especially when that same mother keeps ignoring her father, and she’s not sure she’s ever known fear like she feels in Dark Hollow.

If asked — and Emma can’t imagine why she would be, but she’s at war with her own thoughts and some sadistic childlike-monster who’s already fucked with her more than he should be capable of — she’d argue it was because of what Killian tells her. When I win your heart plays on loop in Emma’s brain, but it’s also because, somehow, she knows he will and does, and fire bursts out of her in the middle of yet another shadow attack.

“How did you do that?” Neal asks, sounding far more surprised than he should and something in Emma’s center recoils at the tone. “Regina. She’s teaching me magic.” Not entirely a lie, not really. But Killian’s eyes snap towards her, and she’s apparently just as good at ignoring things as her mother. “She’s teaching you magic?”

“Yeah,” Emma nods, gripping the coconut in her hand a little tighter. Six months ago, that would have felt like the most absurd sentence in the world. Now it just pisses her off. “I guess she is.”

There’s more, because of course there is. Wendy Darling and Neal are something of old friends, and she’s somehow an even worse liar than Emma, but the truth means Henry’s death and she can’t breathe. Can hardly stand, but is also standing closer to Killian and she keeps calling him Killian. In her head.

His hand squeezes hers; exactly three times.

“It’ll be fine, love,” Killian murmurs. Naturally, it’s not.

Watching Henry hand over his heart is a nightmare Emma will see for the rest of her life, wholly unprepared for the way her kid drops to the ground and the strength of her ensuing magic threatens to blind her.

Regina’s not much better, honestly. Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out and then there’s magic and a wave of her hand, and—“He’s not dead yet,” she tells Emma, like that’s acceptable, but she’s got no idea what else to do and the growing feeling that she’s forgotten something very important.

Preservation spells are as freaky their name implies, it turns out.

Henry doesn’t blink, doesn’t move, but he also isn’t dead and Emma figures that’s at least one positive. While she’s attacked by a tree, and taunted by Pan and Regina’s admission leaves her reeling just a bit. That is until it turns out Peter Pan is also Gold’s father, and the absurdity of it all makes Emma want to scream and cry and they somehow save Henry’s heart.

In Pandora’s Box.

Really, the rest is a blur — adrenaline mixing with magic and an above-average amount of gasping, and Killian offers Henry the captain’s quarters. Emma doesn’t think before she walks, leading the pair of them towards the door, and there’s a shadow trapped in the sail and they’re on a flying pirate ship, so honestly her knowledge of that pirate ship’s layout should be the least of their worries, but something, something…open book.

“You want to tell me what’s going on, now?” Killian asks, finding Emma what feels like a lifetime later. Hours, actually. Most of which she’s spent leaning against the railing, while trying to breathe in as much salt air as possible and Regina’s still in the cabin with Henry.

“Aside from the obvious?” “Whatever’s got you staring so intently at the horizon.” “It’s calming,” Emma reasons, and there’s some truth to that as well. There’s also something in her back pocket, a piece of clothing that miraculously isn’t totally destroyed with mud and the after-effects of fighting for their collective lives.

“It often is, although you’re thinking so loudly, I can’t help but—” “—Do you think you’ll stay in Storybrooke?”

Killian tenses. He’s close enough that Emma can practically feel the way his muscles tighten, but there’s more to it than proximity, and it’s got to be nearly his turn at the helm. Neal can’t stay up there forever.

“If you think that would be a good idea.”

Rolling her eyes makes her head hurt. She might also be dehydrated. The knowledge that there’s a flask of rum stashed somewhere under the cot in Killian’s cabin is one of the few things keeping Emma conscious. Captain’s cabin. Semantics. She has no idea how she knows that. “That’s not really what I asked,” Emma argues. “Do you—is that something you’d like?”

She shouldn’t be as nervous as she is.

The future is suddenly blurry, and not entirely uncertain, but she fought like hell for it and now there’s this growing sense of optimism taking root in her. Like it’s the foundation for everything else, strong and certain and that’s a rather daunting change of pace for her. The certainty, not the adjective choices. Gold made it so David could come home too. They all get to go home. So, Emma doesn’t move very quickly when she turns, just presses her lips together and—

Hopes.

Pixie dust requires a certain amount of belief to work, after all.

“I would,” Killian breathes. He leans forward, or Emma leans forward, and it genuinely does not matter because there are mouths and hands and it’s over before it really begins, the rail of a flying pirate ship threatening to dig into her back. She’s never been more comfortable. “Ok,” Emma says, footsteps coming towards them, “that’s good.”

“You saved him, you know.”

“Motivation’s a funny thing like that.”

“Certainly is,” Killian agrees, “and you had that in spades. I just—” He smirks. The bastard. “Telling you I knew you would makes me a bit of a cad, doesn’t it?” “More than a bit, maybe.” He chuckles, letting his head drop closer to hers. “Why’d you know where the blankets were in that cabin?” “Far too perceptive for your own good.” “I prefer to see it as an acute observation.” “And you’re more than just a pretty face, huh?”

“Sounds suspiciously like you think I’m pretty.”

“Occasionally,” Emma says, standing on wobbly knees again and they’re dancing without music. “I don’t know, really, but we’ll get there, I think.”

Leaning back, Killian’s eyebrows shift and his thoughts practically come with cymbals, but he doesn’t press her anymore and Emma doesn’t actually believe she fell asleep. Outside the Echo Caves, but all of those thoughts feel like dreams now, and Neal doesn’t ask any questions — which is either a victory or a crushing disappointment, depending on which way you look at it, but Emma can’t bring herself to leave the railing, even when the wind picks up and goosebumps prickle her arms and the something in her back pocket is a tiny slip of paper.

Torn at the edges, like the person who grabbed it was pressed for time and flush with determination and she’s never actually seen his handwriting before. It doesn’t make an ounce of difference. Swooping letters linger on the looseleaf, no matter how many times Emma blinks, the words the same and she tries very hard not to rip it. Holding it as tightly as she is makes that easier said than done.

Still, it doesn’t change.

I love you.

As clear as the tears that return to her eyes will allow, and Emma’s not surprised to find him already looking in her direction. She smiles, and goes below deck.

They don’t make it very long before something else gets fucked up.

They barely make it like—two weeks. Pan isn’t dead, and Henry’s not Henry and the whole thing is a disaster that frequently ends with Emma slumped against the nearest wall she can find, the hand gripping hers squeezing at regular intervals, like Killian is trying to remind her of something, but she might just be hoarding every touch and every feeling and it figures.

Standing at the town line, Emma’s not sure how she’s going to get in that car and drive away from this town and these people and her mother kisses her forehead. Softly and almost reverently, and David’s hand finds the back of her head, holding her as tightly as he had in Neverland and Emma knows he’d like to do that forever, but that won’t be possible in five minutes and she’s not going to remember.

Any of them. At any point.

She’s still not sure why the timing of it all seems so important.

“That’s quite a vessel you captain there, Swan.”

Smiling is the only way she stops herself from kicking him, or possibly kissing him and she’s not prepared for what Killian says next. If she ever gets to remember this, that will seem vaguely ridiculous. All things considered.

“There’s not a day that will go by that I won’t think of you.” He means it. Emma knows that, too. As much as she knows she should have said something — a string of words that’s still a little overwhelming, but the sheet of paper basically lives in her jacket pocket now, and for someone who feels as if she keeps bouncing around time, or at least realms, she also continues to run out of it.

“Good,” she says, and one side of his mouth moves. Tugs up while he stares at her, and struggles to step back and everything disappears. Behind a cloud of purple smoke, and a line that’s brushed away as easily as if it had never been there at all, and Emma forgets.

Most of it, at least.

Some guy knocks on her door, knows her name, and immediately tries to kiss her. It’s not the strangest thing Emma’s ever encountered, but that’s because bail bond’s a weird gig, and he keeps showing up. Gives her a note with handwriting that looks suspiciously familiar, and proves even more than that and her hand shakes. While pulling a weather-stained piece of paper from the folds of her wallet, and she’s got no rational reason for keeping it. Not when she’s got no idea why she has it in the first place, but every time she considers throwing it away, something tugs between her ribs and flutters at the back of her brain and the swoop on the top of his ‘o’ is exactly the same.

She doesn’t mention that before she drinks the potion. And she only balks slightly at the word potion , so that’s another victory and— “Killian,” she breathes, memories flying back. Some arrive quicker than others, while a few hang in the shadows and she knows there’s more to the sheet of paper than she’s willing to admit. Magic fights with her, trying to piece together things that don’t entirely make sense, and she can remember things that don’t make sense. Pirate ships, and flashing swords, and a house with enough windows that it likely sets a record.

And a hand slipping a sheet of paper into her back pocket.

“Miss me?”

It’s a joke. A bad one, at that. Especially coupled with a smile that barely reaches his eyes, but Emma finds herself nodding all the same and he doesn’t stumble backwards when she launches herself at him, hugging as tightly as she can.

The paper goes back in her wallet before they leave for Storybrooke.

She’s going to leave. Get back in her car and go back to New York, and raise Henry like a normal kid, but Emma can’t shake the feeling that there’s something inherently wrong with that plan, and it doesn’t have anything to do with wicked witches or newborn brothers, but maybe deja vu for something she hasn’t lived yet, and Killian’s eyebrows fly into his hairline. When she does the unthinkable.

“Come with us, then.” “You’re not serious,” he challenges.

“Like a heart attack, maybe. I just…none of this is safe, and New York was, I mean…you could be part of—” “False memories, based on magical nonsense.”

Shoulders slumping, Emma can’t come up with an argument to that. Only kind of wants to, but she’s not in the book, and Henry doesn’t want to leave. The dreams she keeps having make sleep something of a pipe dream. And she’s something of a mess, but Killian’s a much better dancer than she expected him to be.

And she’s not surprised to find him rounding the corner of Regina’s dungeon, although it’s nice to be saved, even when she’s perfectly capable of doing it herself. But then his arms threaten to crack several of her ribs ten minutes later, and Emma has a few theories about that. None of which she voices, far too busy memorizing the way his thumb feels when it brushes her cheek, and her mother’s not dead.

Doesn’t remember her, but time travel beggars can’t be choosers. Another burst of deja vu rattles through her, and there’s no magic to jump in her veins, but Killian glances her direction all the same and the wand is heavy in her hand. One that’s magical again, a portal home because it is home and you trade your ship for me isn’t much more than a whisper on warmer-than-usual wind. He doesn’t blink when he answers. She’ll think about that for quite some time.

After she stops thinking about how good they are at kissing, because they are exceptional at kissing and it’s very simple. To fall into this head first, the feeling and the emotion and Killian chuckles when Emma’s magic begins to thrum under her skin.

She tells her parents about Neal.

About what he did, and how he did it and their eyes widen so often she wonders if they’ll get stuck like that. Killian’s hand doesn’t leave her shoulder.

They announce the change two days later. Prince Neal is Prince Leo and he’s still as cute as ever, with a tendency to spit up on whoever holds him.

“Are you alright?” “You’ve asked me that like ten times.” Nodding, Killian doesn’t move and Emma can’t imagine what kind of damage this is doing to his knees, but he doesn’t seem inclined to stand up either and she’s finally starting to get some feeling back in her toes. Fingers, too. Which makes it easier to drag the tips of them over his cheek, and his eyelids fluttering shut is a jolt of confidence she’s going to cling to. “And yet,” he drawls, “I’m still very curious.”

“I’m fine,” Emma says, not for the first time and she knows it won’t be the last. He shifts the blanket draped across her legs, tucking it under her side like—“A mother hen pirate.” “That’s rude, love.” “You’re going to give yourself a coronary.” “I don’t know what that means.” Laughing softly, her lips are still a bit chilly when she presses them to Killian’s skin. Warm, like always. Some joke about her own personal sun, and something else about walls made of ice and she doesn’t think before she mumbles, “you want to lay down, or something?” “Your father might challenge me to a duel.” “Not confident in your own sword skills?” “I’m very confident in my skills, but—” “—C’mon,” Emma interrupts, ignoring Killian’s protest when she pulls her arms out of the mountain of fabric covering her, “you’re warm, anyway.”

She realizes she loves him before she says it.

Well before, honestly. And she wonders why that feels inevitable, almost like it’s already happened, somehow but that’s—well, that’s impossible. She should rid that word from her vocabulary. And the inevitability of telling Killian everything she’s feeling isn’t totally surprising, either. Has been coming on so gradually that don’t you know, Emma, it’s you doesn’t knock her entirely off course. Might right her, actually. Direct her back towards some star or something else nautical and decidedly sentimental, and she cannot rationalize how quiet she is when he falls.

Dies, really.

This alternate version of him that still managed to rescue her, and she couldn’t save him and that’s not right. Two-way streets operate in both directions, but she didn’t tell him and everything feels like it stops. Not long enough. Time refuses to linger the way Emma needs it to, lungs threatening to disintegrate, and this isn’t real, can’t possibly be real and Henry’s pulling on her sleeve, telling her they have to go. He’s right. They’ve got to get out of here. Fix it, and give Emma more time, and she doesn’t spend any of it thinking before she rushes up the loft stairs and clings to him tightly enough that they fall over.

That will feel poetic later.

Standing in the center of Main Street, with a dagger in her hand and magic in the air and it’s familiar all over again, another burst of deja vu, and the exact opposite. Wrong, on a fundamental sort of level that she still can’t ignore and she closes her eyes. Thinks of what could be, or what she hopes will still happen, and then she tilts her head up and meets eyes that are far too blue to be fair and it’s easy to give voice to the words she hadn’t before.

That’s nice, she supposes.

Being as consistently confused by her own thoughts is one of Emma’s biggest pet peeves. “I love you.”

“Getting more and more difficult not to tell him. Isn’t it, dearie?” Sighing, Emma doesn’t bother glancing up from the half-finished dream catcher in her hands and Killian’s not going to be happy that he fell asleep. He likes to think he can protect her better while he’s conscious. As if he could protect her from her own mind.

“Do you even remember it?” Rumplestilskin continues, and it’s not really him. She has to keep reminding herself that. “Can see into your thoughts, y’know. And I don’t think you do.” “Shut up.” He doesn’t, of course. “The Queen did something. Changed something, somehow. Can feel the dregs of her magic, clinging to your memories and—” He leans forward. “—So can you, can’t you? Wonder why those scenes that appear behind your eyes every time you blink, feel so real. All that fairy tale fodder, and another thing you’ll miss out on. Strange how that version of your personal prince charming never mentioned what happens to you, isn’t it? Almost as if he’s keeping secrets. Maybe that’s a sign.” “Shut up.” She doesn’t mean to say anything. Responding only ever eggs the apparition on, and Emma’s head feels as if it will split in two. It might help if it did.

Every one of Rumplestilskin’s teeth is on display when he smiles. Like a goddamn crocodile.

“You could likely get your memories back. If you wanted. All that power surging through your veins. Or maybe,” he continues slowly, “part of what you’re feeling isn’t anything more than fate."

"No, that’s not true."

"Sure of that? Absolutely positive? Anything is possible, after all."

And the idea takes Emma by sudden and overwhelming surprise, part of her hating even the thought, but her feet are already moving and she might be running if the stretch of her legs is any sign, and Merlin doesn’t look up. When she slams open his door.

“You know, don’t you?” “Everything you’ve forgotten?” he asks lightly. “Yes, I do.” “What do I do about it?” “Would you like to do something about it?” “Did Regina do something to my memories?” Emma presses, leaning against the door as soon as it shuts behind her. One of his shoulders lifts. “He—the voice in my head…keeps taunting me about it, and I don’t—is any of that possible? That life?” Finally lifting his gaze, Merlin looks exactly as he did in that movie theater Emma only half believes she actually remembers, and time travel continues to be one of her least favorite things. “Depends,” he replies, “on you, and your next question.”

“I shouldn’t know. Right? Shouldn’t remember, I—he was looking at the house. The one I remember us living in sometimes, and I don’t…it’s impossible. To get back to that.” “He already told you it wasn’t,” Merlin argues.

I’ll never stop fighting for us.

Emma licks her lips. Coming up with anything else to say is difficult, and she’s still holding the goddamn dreamcatcher. That makes it easier. To give into instinct, and she’s broken. At her most basic level. Ripped apart and stitched back with pieces that don’t entirely belong to her, and remembering any of it feels like a cruel trick.

Lifting her arm, the whole thing only takes a few moments. Nothing more than a soft pull, and what feels like a soap bubble popping.

“Feel better?” Merlin asks, gaze dropping back to his table and his task and Emma nearly growls at him.

“What are you talking about?” “That’s what I thought. It won’t all disappear, though. Magic’s got a way of leaving a mark, especially magic like that.”

She leaves before he can make any other cryptic announcements, and Dark Ones don’t really need sleep. Emma sits on the bed for the rest of the night.

Dreams happen occasionally.

In the few days between — after the blade broke apart in her hand, and the decision that she won’t take this lying down, fuck whatever the world says about death and Dark Ones — visions start to creep into Emma’s subconscious. Sometimes they aren’t good, are a startling reminder of how it felt to fall to the ground, and the exact way dew soaked through her jeans, or how cold he was when his hand fell away from hers. And then sometimes they’re…not that.

They’re bright, and laughter rings out in the space Emma can’t quite define. Like it’s somewhere she’s been before, lived in even. Happily so. Scents hang in the air, a mix of salt and sweet and there’s almost always an arm curled around her waist, whispers in her ear and the steady press of kisses along her neck. Soft footsteps echo down carpeted hallways, and there’s garland wrapped around the staircase railing. Lining their ridiculous number of windows, and draped across branches of a tree.

For Christmas.

Emma isn’t sure how she knows that, but the snow outside is a good clue and it’s that — the growing desire to make this dream something closer to a reality, and no one questions her decision. To go to the Underworld. The same way she doesn’t second guess her steps as she races towards Killian, blood on his cheeks and nothing at the end of his left arm and he’s heavier than she remembered. Slumped against her chest with his breath in her ear, and it’s not quite the same as the dream, but they’ll get there.

They’ll get there.

Emma repeats the phrase — over and over, stumbling down a path she’s only passably confident will lead them outside, and he squeezes her hand. Three times.

Sometimes they dance.

In the kitchen. In the living room. She’s got this habit of hoarding records, and Killian’s far more interested in antiquing than he’d ever be willing to admit. Emma makes pirate jokes about it.

If only because it inevitably guarantees that spark in his eyes.

The one that makes her shiver, and reminds her of something she can’t quite remember and—she gasps, a hand spinning her on the kitchen floor. Away from the sink of dirty dishes and anything remotely responsible.

“I’m going to get your shirt all wet,” Emma grumbles, but that doesn’t appear to concern him very much. Or at all.

“Good.” “Good?” “Was that confusing?” Killian challenges, metal already working under the hem of her shirt. There are flowers on it.

“You think you’re very funny.” “I think I’ve got fantastic rhythm, and I can hear you thinking from across the room. What’s got your magic so loud?” Without stopping, Emma’s magic responds in kind — a symphony of possibility, and the growing sense of want that sits like a nearly-comfortable weight in the pit of her stomach, and sometimes she tells him. About the dreams, and the scenes that feel like she’s lived them before, and Killian never tells her she’s crazy. Even when Emma wonders if she might be. Instead, there’s simply this look of his own want, crinkling the skin near his eyes and she kisses away the pinch between his brow. Which makes it easier for her to ask— “Why this one?”

“Excuse me?” “This house,” Emma clarifies, and the conversation’s a little late. They’ve been here for years. Watched Henry grow up, and taught him how to use a sword, and watched movies until they could quote them back without a single mistake. So, really she should have figured it out before, but Emma’s had her suspicions. It’s only now that she’s greedy enough to ask about them.

“You know why.” “Would love to hear you say it.” “Pirate,” Killian accuses, without any insult and Emma giggles when he pulls her back to his chest. “And I—well, it’d be nice, don’t you think?” “Yeah, it would,” Emma says. The agreement tumbles out of her with ease, partially because of that aforementioned greed and the memories she can’t shake and Merlin said something to her. About magic’s tendency to leave something behind.

There’s a sheet of paper still hidden in her wallet.

“So,” she continues, “great big house, with lots of rooms and—” “—It’s your choice, Swan.” “That’s not how it works, and you know it. A combined team of planning and feeling and—” He dips her, she tries very hard not to giggle again. Fails miserably. “—Self-proclaimed rhythm. We just…this isn’t just about me, this is an us thing.” The music doesn’t stop. They only kind of do, Killian leaning back with a glint in his eyes that’s different than it normally is and Emma’s not sure when she started breathing through her mouth, but it’s drying out her lips and that’s not the first time she’s said that.

She doesn’t think so, at least.

“I’m a rather large fan of that string of words,” Killian says. “And you.” “Seems like a requirement of marriage.” “And parenting?” “Yeah?” “Yeah.”

Kissing him is really the only reasonable option. And Emma considers herself fairly reasonable, although her magic nearly makes a light bulb explode a few hours later and it’s difficult to be annoyed by the smug look on Killian’s face when he’s not wearing any clothing.

“What about Regina?”

Half a dozen heads snap towards Emma, some of them sporting bemused expressions, while others wear flat out disbelief and she doesn’t blink. Her fingers tighten, under the table where she’s gripping Killian’s hand and she can’t seem to get comfortable.

There’s way more of her than she’s used to, and the books claim she’s in some stage called nesting. Which Killian uses as an excuse to make Swan jokes at every opportunity. It might be driving her insane.

So, Emma will use that as an excuse. “What do you mean, Your Highness?” Grumpy asks her, and Killian can’t quite mask his laugh. Even with his teeth pressed distractingly into his lower lip.

“I mean,” Emma starts, “that if we’re going to combine all the realms, maybe having Regina in charge might not be the worst idea. She’s got queenly experience.” “Wow,” Regina says slowly, “that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” “No it is not!” “Top five, at least.” “You’re ruining this.”

Scrunching her nose is not a normal Regina reaction, but Emma figures it makes sense considering the circumstances and it’s a lot of responsibility. Uniting all the realms is a pretty daunting prospect, that will require enough of her own magic that Killian’s already freaking out just a bit, and somehow Emma can’t bring herself to be frustrated with that. Endeared, maybe.

And absolutely certain this will work.

She doesn’t know why. She looks at the slip of paper in her wallet, like four times a day.

“You’re sure?” Regina asks, Emma nods. “Alright, then I’d uh—it’d be my honor.”

They buy too many gifts. Hope is a baby. One who won’t have any memory of her first Christmas in this absolutely massive house, with a tree that Anton gave them a discount on.

“For milestones,” he reasoned, and Emma resolutely refuses to admit that she cried. But Killian brings it up more than once, and that gets her to roll her eyes and smile against his mouth when he ducks his head to kiss her and Snow White went above and beyond this year. Decorations line Main Street, cookies shared from every business and every person and all those people keep smiling. At her, and them and their kid is way cuter than her brother was.

Emma doesn’t mention that.

Killian does, at least when he whispers it to her while Leo tears apart another paper-covered box, and Hope gurgles in the crook of his arm. And Emma figures this is as good a time as any. To tug the folded envelope out of her pocket, flipping her wrist at the expectant and slightly confused look on Killian’s face. “What’s this?” “A gift,” Emma snarks, barely twisting out of the way to avoid him nipping at her nose. Like some twisted and very attractive Jack Frost. There’s some silver in his hair now.

He uses his hook to open it.

Emma clicks her tongue. So as not to push into his mouth. That might scar the kid.

“I don’t—” Killian says, pulling the scrap of paper out of. He holds it like it’s precious, and it is for Emma, but she also doesn’t entirely understand it and it’s kind of a selfish gift. “This is my hand writing. Why…I don’t remember writing this.” “And I don’t know when I got it. But I have it.” “I can see that.” “No, no, you don’t understand. It’s—I’ve had that for as long as I can remember. Since before New York, at least.” Killian’s eyes flash. To her and possibly through her, and Emma’s shrug is half-hearted at best. “Memories don’t always stick in this town,” he reasons, but it sounds like an excuse. For something she still doesn’t entirely understand.

“Yeah, I know. But it’s been there. Was in my wallet, and I had it in Camelot, babe. Used to pull it out sometimes, when you were—” “—Dead?” “God bless us, every one.” His laugh lacks any real amusement. It’s not very festive. “I’m going to ask you something,” Emma says, fully prepared for the way his lips curl.

“Eventually you’ll bypass the proclamations, Your Highness.” “Why do you squeeze my hand? You do it all the time.” “Do I?” Blotches of pink appear on his cheeks and he might want to lie, but his ears can’t and that’s not as weird a sentence as it should be. “Only three times, you realize?” “Don’t insult me like that.” That laugh is better. Purer, more like him and Emma’s magic flickers when he kisses her cheek. He’s constantly kissing her cheek. And her hair. Temple. Anywhere he can reach, like he’s always looking for a reminder and proof, until Emma knows she depends on it just as much as he does.

“Made it easier,” he says, “saying it without actually using words.” “And the words were…” He doesn’t really glare — that’s against the rules at Christmas, Emma’s sure, but his head lolls and his lips quirk and magic jumps. In her. To him. Whatever, really. “I love you,” Killian says, easy as some other cliche and Hope squirms between them. When they start kissing.

To suggest that what happens next happens suddenly, also makes it seem like Emma is paying attention to anything outside the little bubble of family and feeling, and neither one of those things is true. So she can’t say that. Her mother can.

Gasping and yelping, and there’s color everywhere — rivaling the lights that hang all over, because no one does holidays and milestones better than Her Royal Highness Snow White of Storybrooke. Emma curses.

Like a goddamn princess.

Remembering something that hasn’t technically happened yet threatens to make Emma topple over, but she’s really good at standing now and Killian’s arm is around her anyway. That helps. Perpetually.

“What the hell was that?” David demands, with as little grace as any of them can exude.

Emma shakes her head, refusing to blink. Despite the moisture there, and the feelings and she remembers. Has this whole time, kind of. The semantics probably aren’t important, at least not as much as the light is and was and will be.

Perpetually.

She doesn’t answer. Not her dad, anyway.

“I love you,” Emma tells Killian instead, and it takes some time to explain it all later. True Love and its somewhat inconsistent if not equally wonderful tendencies, and while that future in the past may not happen exactly as it had, this is somehow better and Emma was right.

They got here, eventually.

[lostbbygorl]

HAPPILY EVER AFTER (LEVI X F!READER):

AU: PRIDE AND PREJUDICE BY JANE AUSTEN

(THIS IS THE FINALE OF THE PXP AU SERIES. THANKS FOR ALL THE LOVE YOU GAVE IT. MORE CONTENT IS IN THE PROGRESS)

~~~~~~

Y/N stood in the middle of the garden, absolutely still, as if she were a statue. Unblinking, she stared at the sky. It was nearly morning, and the sun was showing glimpses of itself. Morning fog was thick on that day, and it surrounded Y/N like a persistent crowd. She couldn’t cry anymore. Her head was empty, completely devoid of any thought.

All Y/N could do was relive her argument with Lady Katrina over and over again. The part that broke her the most was when she gave up on fighting the facts anymore, and admitted to Lady Katrina that she wasn’t engaged to Levi Ackerman. She wasn’t engaged to Levi Ackerman, and it had hit her like a truck right in that moment. Would she ever be engaged to him? Forget an engagement, would she ever marry him? Lady Katrina had definitely told him about their dispute from earlier on. There was no way Levi, an evident family man, would pick Y/N over his senior auntie!

Levi collapsed on the grass, sweat drying on his forehead as he panted for air. His onyx head rested against one of his horse’s legs for support. When he finally stood up, his eyes shone with fire and pure determination! He eyed the door of Y/N’s house with hope. He was sure that the family hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep last night after her aunt’s rude arrival. He sharply rapped on the door three times, before Christa opened it, looking him up and down in surprise.

“ Mr. Ackerman?”, she said in a tone which suggested she was convincing herself of his presence at her house, early in the morning, in his nightwear with 2 of his shirt buttons unbuttoned.

“ Hello, Ms. Christa. I apologize sincerely to you and your family for intruding so early in the morning, as well as for my aunt Katrina’s ill manners and treatment of you fine people”, Levi began softly.

“ And to you, Ms. Christa, I apologize for meddling with your relationship with my best friend. I could’ve ruined your happiness forever. But it was I who insisted Erwin reach out to you once again, and I hope you’ll accept my attempt of fixing my mistake”, he finished.

“ Oh, sir, of course I forgive you! Your intentions were understandable and you’ve made amends. But I have a feeling it isn’t me you’ve rushed over to the countryside to see. Is the true motivation behind your being here my sister, Y/N?”, Christa asked, to which Levi nodded.

“ Y/N is in the garden, sir. We tried to move her from her position there, but she wouldn’t budge”, Christa informed.

Levi ran faster than he ever had in his life! The fog was just clearing when he reached, and in the blur, he could make out the figure of a woman standing. Levi’s heart did cartwheels as soon as he saw Y/N standing there, a maroon shawl wrapped around her. For the first time in several hours, Y/N moved. Y/N moved her head to the direction of Levi’s familiar footsteps as soon as she heard him arriving. She gasped when she saw him walking towards her, his night robe flaying in the morning breeze as he walked.

“ Mr. Levi”, she whispered.

“ Ms. Y/N”, he breathed.

“ Mr. Ackerman, as wonderful as it is to see you, I’m afraid this occasion on which we meet isn’t a happy one. I’m sure your aunt has reported to you of our argument, and that you’re here to avenge her honor which I offended. I’m incredibly sorry for my behaviour towards her ladyship, good sir. Please forgive me”, Y/N said bitterly. Levi blanked a few times in confusion, registering her words.

“ What? Oh no, ma’am, I’m not here to demand an apology at all. I’m not here regarding Lady Katrina, I have a more pressing matter to discuss”, Levi corrected.

“ Oh”, Y/N mumbled, not sure what to say. She walked towards him, and cautiously, the man took her hands in his. To his joy, she didn’t shake him off.

“ Mr. Ackerman, your hands are ice”, she remarked.

“ I rode all the way from Shiganshina last night after my auntie returned and complained about her time here. To be honest, I was impressed, just as I was when you first met her and put her in her place”, Levi admitted. Y/N managed a smile.

“ I see. So then what are you here for, Mr. Levi?”Y/N asked.

“ To ask you for a second chance”, he said.

“ If your feelings for me are still what they were last April at Shiganshina, tell me so at once. My feelings towards you won’t change, but if you give me the word, I’ll be on my way back to Utgard, and I shan’t ever bother you again”, Levi promised. Y/N was screaming inside, but not out of anger or sadness this time, it was out of happiness! The moment she had daydreamed about all this time might finally play out in real life!

“ If your feelings have changed, however, I would have to tell you this: I have never met another woman like you, and you have bewitched me completely. I love you”, Levi confessed.

“ I never wish to be parted from you from this day forth”.

“ Well then, why don’t you pop the big question to make things official?”, Y/N breathed.

“ Ms. Y/N L/N, will you do me the honor of giving me your hand?”, Mr. Ackerman proposed a second time.

“ Of course I will! Yes, yes,yes! A thousand times I will say yes!”, she affirmed. Y/N and Levi locked lips just as the sun finally rose to the sky, and the sun’s warmth and light reached them. Both of them had wanted this for as long as they could remember falling for each other, and this blissful, euphoric moment was far better than what they had dreamed.

Y/N laughed as she ran back to the house, hand in hand with Levi, who was unsmiling, but this time with a softer expression. What you couldn’t decipher about Levi’s emotions from his facial expressions you could make out from his eyes. His gaze was soft and his eyes were shining. His heart was thudding and the butterflies that exploded in his stomach and heart every time he was in contact with Y/N came back.

“ Everybody, me and Mr. Ackerman are engaged!”, Y/N announced. Everybody cheered, and Christa embraced Y/N so tightly, she felt as if her bones would snap!

Christa and Y/N had a double wedding. The ceremony took place at Utgard castle, and the decorations made the already stunning castle look even more beautiful! All of Mr. Ackerman’s relatives and friends attended, and so did Y/N’s. Sasha rode from Liberio to Utgard with Mr. Yeager, and Nifa and cousin Elias came from Shiganshina. Everybody was there, even Lady Katrina!

Sasha, Ella, Nifa, Marceline and Vanya served as the bridesmaids. Y/N and Christa donned off white, puffy white wedding dresses with numerous ruffles and floral accents for the wedding. They curled their hair and accessorized with pearls. As typical brides, they got emotional over anything, and cried happy tears upon seeing the other in their wedding dress. Erwin Smith shed a few tears when he saw Christa walk out, but Levi remained poker faced as always. Though he didn’t show it, he was an emotional wreck inside! The sisters looked like fairies in their dresses!

The rest of the ceremony went great. Lady Katrina was a polite guest, and though it was obvious she still showed contempt towards Y/N and Christa’s family, she didn’t cause a scene unnecessarily, and even begrudgingly complimented Y/N’s dress (before muttering a comment on how Amanda would look better in it under her breath).

Erwin and Levi stared lovingly at their brides the entire time.

Finally it was time for them to ride off to their new homes. This was Levi and Y/N’s first time sitting together in a carriage, and Y/N admired the view from outside the carriage with a smile playing on her lips. The sun was just setting, and all the hills and bushes were as green as they could be. The sky was a blend of tangerine orange and melon pink, and crows flew from east to west. Y/N was still in a daze after the wedding. She couldn’t believe it had happened!

“ What are you thinking about?”, Levi asked, bringing her back from her daze.

“ Oh, nothing, I was just looking at the view outside”

“ Yes, it’s quite pretty isn’t it?”

“ It is, yes. But now that you asked me, I actually am thinking of something quite interesting indeed”, Y/N told him.

“ And what might that be?”, Levi asked curiously.

“ It’s just that last April we were in the rain having a verbal battle, and I told you that I’d never be persuaded to marry you. And now here we are, tied together with rings, sitting next to each other in a decorated carriage”, she laughed. Levi smiled, a sight she was still getting used to. Maybe he’d smile more after being married to her for quite some time.

“ It’s most ironic. But I am glad I got a second chance with you, Mrs. Ackerman”, he said.

“ And I’m glad I was open minded enough to give you a second chance. But, Levi, I have a question for you”

“ What might that be?”

“ When did you first realize that you love me?”

“ Well”, he trailed off, trying to find an answer for her.

“ That question doesn’t have a definitive answer. I just knew that you were the most interesting woman at any ball or setting where we ran into each other, and I was always amused by your honesty and the way you teased me. One day, I just woke up and realized I love you, I guess”, Levi shrugged as she replied honestly. Y/N was satisfied.

“ That makes sense, I guess. I personally came to terms with my sentiments after I discovered you were making amends, and after I saw the very positive changes in you when we met again after the dispute in the rain”, Y/N informed him.

Y/N laid her head on his shoulder, and closed her eyes, taking in his minty scent and his warmth. Levi intertwined his hands with hers, and the two rode off to their new lives, hearts beating with anticipation, this time in perfect harmony…

THE END