#it hurts to think about all the pain Regina’s gone through | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stayevildarling · 7 days

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could you do a hurt-comfort fic w either:

lou x tammy x reader

orrrrr

wilhemina x regina mills x reader pleaseee

Wilhemina Venable x Regina Mills x Reader- Burying our memories (AU)

A/N: I think this is absolutely not what you expected with this request dear anon. However the first thing I thought of was an AU with dark Mina x the evil Queen so I hope nevertheless you enjoy this <3 For anyone who has watched ouat please ignore how I altered the curse and changed the story

tw: dark mina, evil queen, cursing, degrading, blood, pain, angst, hurt

word count: 7k

taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker, @billiebeanhoward, @lanawinters-ily, @kenzbro, @minaslittleone, @httpfiftyshadesofgay, @whitelotus00, @ninaahs, @vintagepaulson, @isle-of-earle, @paulsonsratched, @stepintomyworld, @grilledcheeseandguavajelly, @lucyintheskywithxanax, @fanfics4world, @mymiraclewitch, @hazard-to-myself, @awritersometime, @ohrwurm26, @wastdstime

The dense greenery of the enchanted forest sways gentle in the cool breeze, casting shifting patterns of shadow and light upon the forest floor. With swift motions, you run through the tangled undergrowths, your breathing coming in ragged gasps as you glance over your shoulders, trying to see if they had gone, if you were safe.

Moments before, your day looked like it usually did, as you found yourself in the heart of the village, your heart heavy with the weight of injustice. The villagers lacking the most basic things including food, water and supplies to survive, due to the Queen's oppressive rules. And somehow over the years, after slowly losing your family and purpose altogether, you turned out to be an aid for the poor lost souls in the forest and village, their silent pleas echoing in the depths of your soul.

Somehow you had turned into your own version of a Robin Hood, wanting to help out, regularly crossing boundaries and stealing from the Queen's garden and palace grounds in order to provide for them, rid them of the poverty and pain they had endured for years now. And somehow, today you had been careless, not caring about the sound of alarms piercing through the stillness of the night. The queen's guards descended upon the village with ruthless efficiency, riding their horses, their gleaming armour announcing their presences further.

And now as you attempt fleeing through the labyrinth of the forest, trying to reach your sanctuary hidden deeply inside the forest, the branches tear at your clothes, the thorns pricking your skin and causing for blood to run down your arms and legs, leaving a crimson reminder of your foolishness before. Fear and desperation mingles in your veins as you push and push forward, occasionally glancing behind your shoulder to reassure that you would manage to lose them again, just like you had done many times. And if you were in a clear state of mind, you would have noticed that you took a wrong turn, ignoring the wanted poster with both your face on it, among other faces, like Snow White, all enemies to the queen who had been on her wanted list for quite some time now.

With a loud thud, you feel yourself losing your balance as you must have bumped into something, feeling a warm sensation before hitting your head on a nearby branch. It takes a little while for your vision to clear, before you find yourself face-to-face with a woman cloaked in darkness, her sharp features illuminated by a flickering lantern. Through a teary vision, due to the pain piercing through your body, you notice dark red hair styled in a sharp quiff, a shade of very dark purple, almost black coating her body. There's a calculating gleam in her eyes, as she finds you pathetically whimpering on the floor, her lips curled into a smirk.

,,Well well'' she remarks, her voice hushed ,,You seem to have gotten yourself into quite a predicament, running from the queens guards I presume?'' she questions and if it wasn't for the pain, you would have noticed the odd sense of familiarity you seem to feel and how you almost would have recognised her. Your heart pounds in your chest, torn between fleeing, the sound of shouting guards and horses still lingering in the air. But there was something about the woman's demeanour that stops you, a sense of intrigue mixed with caution.

Before you can respond, the older woman bends a little to place the lantern on the floor, the bright sensation causing you to close your eyes only momentarily. As you open them again, you watch as she balances on a cane before extending a gloved hand, offering assistance. ,,Come with me'' she offers, her tone surprisingly gentle. ,,I can offer you refuge, but you must trust me''.

Despite the feeling of doom and danger, you see a glimmer of hope in her offer, and so with a silent nod, you accept her outstretched hand, allowing her to lead you deeper into the shadowy depths of the enchanted forest. And it takes several minutes, for the pain to stop throbbing, the blood from your earlier wounds to stop pouring, until you can collect your thoughts. And as you walk behind her, following the sound of her cane and the light source provided by the small lantern she carries, something about the way she walked alarms you. And then it finally dawns on you, finding the familiar trees with carvings on them, where she was leading you, your secret path to the palace that you would often use in order to sneak to the grounds to steal in order to provide for the poor souls of the village.

And then at last it dawns on you who was walking in front of you, who's assistance you agreed upon. You didn't know her name, you had heard it plenty of times but you couldn't recall it, only remembering how she was the assistant to the wicked queen, the people in the village often mentioning her, how she never spoke much but was always by her side. As the forest echos with whispers of secrets, yet to be revealed, panic shoots through your veins, glancing around you to think of a quick escape and as you stop walking, you are quick to turn around, trying pathetically to begin running, however your legs give in as you feel a sharp pain, before everything goes black, having calculated your steps wrong, having put your trust in the wrong hands as the woman never had the intention of helping you, knowing you had been searched and chased for the longest time.

While you battle through unconsciousness, the woman had already alerted the same guards that had chased you before, who carried you inside the palace, the place that you had feared for years. And as the woman returns to the queens chambers in the middle of the night, not disturbing much sleep as her majesty had been awake, pacing back and forth contemplating her next steps and the secret curse she had been planning on casting for years, almost on the verge of completing it, finally having all the necessary ingredients, her peace is interrupted. ,,Busy'' she snarls as she is lost in her pacing, unaware who is standing in front of her.

,,Something demands your attention in the dungeons, your majesty'' the redhead woman announces, causing for the brunette to turn around, as her eyes sparkle with curiosity. And as her curiosity gets ahold of her, she brushes past her most loyal assistant yet, the sound of the queens heels and the other woman's cane echoing through the castle as they pass countless guards. And at last they make it to the dungeons, watching your almost lifeless frame on the floor, in restraints. ,,Well well'' the queen chuckles lowly, glancing at the other woman with a hint of excitement in her brown eyes. ,,Was she caught stealing my apples again?'' she chuckles as she approaches you a little closer.

,,No your majesty, I found her in the woods'' the other woman announces, causing for the queens head to snap in her direction, as she bites her lip in anticipation, almost a hint of lust in her eyes. As you slowly wake up, despite your body screaming in pain, you open your eyes, catching a glimpse of the woman who you had feared for the longest time, accompanied by the woman you had wrongly put your trust into hours before. ,,You lied to me'' you scream, struggling through the restrains as anger flashes in your eyes. The Queen simply chuckles lowly, seeing your pathetic attempts to regain your freedom. ,,My dear, you have no idea who this is do you?'' the queen remarks, causing you to avert your gaze in frustration. ,,This my dear is Wilhemina Venable, my most loyal companion'' she begins, her hand wandering to the redheads cheek, squeezing it a little, her eyes sparkling with pride for how she had managed to capture you after her countless failed attempts in the past.

And despite the circumstances, your eyes betray you as you watch the scene unfold before you, for the first time really getting a glimpse of both women. And you couldn't deny how utterly beautiful they were, at least from the outside, both their hair styled sharply, exposing their faces plastered in dark makeup, the same brown eyes despite the different shades. The queen was wearing one of her usual dresses, black this time, plastered in diamonds and jewels, Wilhemina dressed entirely in a dark shade of purple. While the queen is busy with admiring the other woman, feeling drawn to her for capturing you, you watch as the redheads brown eyes travel towards you, almost a sign of pity in them before she speaks again.

,,What are you planning on doing with her your majesty?'' causing for the queen to chuckle, and you knew what this meant as you had always been running from death, knowing you had deserved it for stealing and running from her for years. Closing your eyes, you wait for what awaits, waiting for her to open the bars, approach and rip out your heart, as you had watched her do it to innocent people many times. However to your surprise she begins pacing a little, thinking about what to do with you. ,,I think we'll keep her'' she announces with a chuckle, and as you open your eyes you notice the confusion in the redheads features.

,,Where she comes from my dear, people bathe in the river and use pinecones for money'' she exclaims, her eyes piercing right through you. ,,I think she can be of great assistance, considering she knows the village and forest so well'' she carries on, Wilhemina simply nodding, trying to avert your eyes. ,,She would make an excellent pet'' is the last thing her majesty says before leaving, leaving behind a very puzzled and confused Wilhemina. She looks at you one more time before following, leaving behind an ever confused you. ,,Pet?'' you think to yourself, trying to pinch yourself to see if this was all just a dream or if maybe you had already died a while ago.

The remainder of the night is spent in the eery dungeons, the restraints keeping you from moving all that much and so the only thing you can do is try and relax as much as the situation allows you, leaning your head against the cold and damp wall behind you, trying to calm the raging storm of thoughts. Eventually sleep finds you, despite it being broken as the castle was considerably loud, even in the night and sometimes you thought you heard screams from the lost souls that had found their ending in the same dungeons you are sitting in. The next morning, you are awoken by one of the guards, as he undoes your restraints, pulling you up by your arms and forcing your shaky legs to follow him as he takes you towards her majesty.

With heavy eyes from the remaining pain lingering on your body and lack of comfortable sleep, you blink a few times as he lets go of you, dropping to your knees in the process. And as you glance around, you notice an unfamiliar room, filled with fancy mirrors, a balcony overlooking the palace grounds, a large dining table and fireplace to the side. And you also notice the same two familiar faces that you had last seen last night, Wilhemina sitting in one of the armchairs by the lit fireplace, her cane resting beside her, the same shade of dark purple but a different outfit. And in front of you, you find her majesty, wearing a red dress, her hair down and despite it all looking beautiful, yet intimidating.

For some reason, you feel the urge to stand up and so with all the strength left you balance and face her as she takes slow and calculated steps around you, walking in a little circle, occasionally glancing at the other woman in the room before speaking. ,,Now now, what are we going to do with you, pet?'' she questions with a little chuckle and it causes you to gulp, wondering just why she hadn't killed you yet, considering all the wanted posters and the hatred you knew she felt towards you for your actions.

The room fills with silence before a low chuckle ripples through it, this time not from the queen but her loyal companion. ,,We can have her for supper can't we dear?''. And again they have you gulping and you could easily try to make an escape, the guards having disappeared now, despite expecting them outside this room. But your curiosity keeps you on your shaky legs, glancing at the older woman who continues circling you like prey. ,,No, no'' she tuts, shaking her head a little ,,We can't waste such a beautiful little thing, now can we?'' her voice sounds almost mocking and you have no idea whether she was being genuine or not.

Silence stretches on, before an idea pops into your mind, knowing what her majesty desired and considering she hadn't killed you yet, maybe you could truly be of assistance to her and her companion, maybe just maybe you could even continue to do what you had been doing, helping out the villagers if you played your cards right. ,,Your majesty?'' you try and her head snaps towards you, eyebrows raised as she never expected one of her prisoners to speak to her like this, adress her in the correct way, other than if she was about to take their life. ,,Yes?'' she questions curiously, her eyebrow remaining raised. You clear your throat before speaking again ,,You are trying to look for Snow White correct?'' you speak carefully, knowing this subject was more than a little touchy to her.

,,Yes, do continue'' she ushers, as her eyes lock with yours. ,,I am not the biggest fan of her either your majesty, perhaps I could be of assistance to help you find her?'' While Wilhemina chuckles, the brunette walks away sighing before she turns to you again, her eyes overtaken by anger. ,,Did she also get the one you loved most in this world killed?'' her voice is filled with venom, though her eyes filled with pain. Wilhemina averts her gaze, knowing Regina for a very long time now and knowing how much that had changed her. ,,No, of course not, I'm sorry your majesty'' you begin speaking again before adding ,,But we have met briefly and I can help you find her'' you try again.

This time the redhead woman stands up, her cane echoing through the room before she halts right in front of you, her dark brown eyes piercing through you. ,,We have our own spies in the village, what makes you think you can find her?'' she spits, almost feeling pitty at your pathetic attempt. ,,Well Ms Venable, you also have tried to find me for years and I know what it's like... to run, you know?''. Her eyebrows raise in the same way the queens had moments before, admiring how polite you are, admiring your manners despite it all and being able to tell that you didn't do any of this to be spared as she is utterly aware you could have tried to make an escape by now or even simply accept your fate.

,,If you don't like that, perhaps I could be of assistance with your gardens your majesty'' you try next, trying to think of anything to make yourself useful to them, while still seeing some of your own gain and advantage. The queen smiles then before turning serious ,,You mean those same gardens you have stolen from many times?'' she scoffs, glancing at Wilhemina who remains in front of you, her presence intimidating. ,,It's just I couldn't help but notice how some of the fruit didn't exactly look too healthy your majesty and your stunning castle, deserves a worthy garden'' you finish your proposal, assuming that she would kill you next or send you back to the dungeons.

,,Guard'' she shouts and as he enters hastily, you close your eyes, awaiting your fate. ,,Get me the gardener now'' she shouts and as he practically runs away, Wilhemina's eyes widen as she turns her head to face the queen, surprised she would listen to you, especially the possibility of agreeing as she knows exactly what is about to happen. A little while later a middle aged man enters the room, almost tripping over his feet, clearly intimidated by the presence. ,,I hear you haven't been taking care of my gardens the way you are meant to'' she tuts, and with a swift motion, before he even gets the chance to explain himself, she has him on the floor, with a flick of her wrist his neck snapped, moments later the guards carrying his lifeless body from the floor a few steps away from you.

All you can do is freeze, feeling terrible that this was the result of your words, not thinking about the consequences your proposal held for the innocent man. And despite feeling like screaming, you stay still, not daring to look up at either of them right now, the realisation slowly sinking in that this wasn't good, that you are trapped by a deranged witch and her odd companion. ,,Fine'' she finally speaks again ,,You can look after the gardens and you may be free to go to the village whenever you please and provide me with information on Snow White'' the queen speaks, before she approaches you. As you look up, you watch as she brushes past Wilhemina before taking your cheeks into her hand and squeezing them ,,But if you think for one second you can escape and not return, you are mistaken'' she warns and as your eyes lock with hers, you can't help and fight the tears beginning to swell in them. ,,Yes your majesty'' you agree with shaky breaths, before she releases you from her tight grasp.

,,Guard'' she shouts again, the same guard entering hastily yet again. ,,Take Y/N to a room, she will be overlooking the gardens and feed us information on snow white'' she explains, before he nods ,,Yes your majesty'' he speaks before he ushers you to follow him. And you do, not once looking back, your feet still shaky from the interaction that had unfolded. The walk feels like it lasts a lifetime, until he finally leads you to a door, opening it and ushering you to go inside. It wasn't nice in the slightest, a lot of dirt, spider webs, barely even a window but there was a little table and chair, a bed even and it connected to what you assume to be a small bathroom. And despite it giving you dungeon vibes all over again, at least you wouldn't be restrained any longer, regaining a small sense of your freedom. He leaves moments later, and you can't help but collapse onto the bed, it really wasn't much of a bed, more of a mattress but nevertheless, you close your eyes as sleep finally washes over your tired body and aching bones.

The next time your eyes force open, it's a few hours later and as you glance around the small room, you find some things that had been left on the small table. As your curiosity gets ahold of you, you find a few sets of clothes, a washcloth and even some papers and pens and despite unsure who had left it there, you appreciate it. Moments later you finally rid your body from the dirt and blood that the last two days had left on you, putting on some of the clothes and leaving your room. It takes you several minutes to find a guard, asking if he could point you in the direction of the gardens and hesitantly he does, leading you to what you assume to be the old gardeners shed as you find all the necessary tools and so without thinking about it, you get to work, watering the bushes, trimming some of them to get them into perfect shape, nurturing some of the fruits and vegetables and correcting any mistakes that the previous gardener had made, for whatever reason taking this task quite seriously.

It's dark as you eventually return inside, quickly having the hang of it by now and finding your room, finding a meal on your table and despite again unsure who had left it, feeling grateful as you hadn't realised until now how much you had been starving. After finishing your meal, you change your clothes again, washing the now dirty ones from working in the gardens all day, before sitting on your bed crossed leg, trying to figure out what to do as beside the day light, you had lost all sense of time a little bit. And so the only thing you can do is reach for the pen and papers, writing down the events from the past few days, sketching a little as well as it always had been your passion, unsure why but it really being the only thing you could do and several hours later passing out on your bed as sleep washes over you.

The next day, you find yourself doing the same things, her gardens were huge and as her majesty overlooks them, finding you working as you kneel on the floor, planting some flowers, she can't help but watch carefully, something about you utterly intriguing. You lose yourself in your task, unaware of who was watching before a presence startles you, causing you to drop your tools clumsily. You watch as Ms Venable circles around you, carefully observing without speaking a single word and it for sure intimidates you, having her observing and careful eyes on you. ,,You seem good at this'' she states, noticing how all the bushes and hedges had the exact same length and a part of her confused as to how you had managed that. ,,Thank you Ms Venable'' you almost whisper, after the last encounter quite terrified of them both and she can tell. ,,Have you managed to gather any information yet?'' she questions curiously and you gulp then before looking up at her as you still kneel on the floor.

,,Not yet, I was wondering whether I may be allowed to leave this afternoon to try and I was wondering whether I would be allowed to collect some seeds?'' you ask, your voice shaky. ,,Seeds?'' she chuckles then, almost mocking your words. ,,Yes Ms to plant some more vegetables and fruit and flowers you see'' you try your best to convince her. ,,I'm sure her majesty doesn't mind, as long as you return in the evening and report back to us'' she almost scolds, her features turning more serious and stern. ,,Of course Ms Venable, thank you'' is all you reply with a small smile, unsure why you had smiled in the first place but it somehow came natural. And before you know it she leaves, her cane echoing with each step before it stops altogether as she reaches the palace again.

Several hours later, you finally make your way to the village, using your secret path through the forest, stopping briefly by your hide out and gathering some of your things, putting them all in a small bag and changing into one of your usual outfits, feeling much more comfortable that way. You opted for one of your beige ones, leather trousers, boots and a vest, a shoulder bag with your belongings. On the way to the village, you had also collected some seeds, hoping if you worked briefly and hard on the gardens, you could still provide the village with food, hoping that you could somehow stuff it in your bags so no one would notice. And as you finally make it to the village, you are met with the usual families, the children greeting you excitedly as they knew you always brought them things but today you unfortunately come empty handed. ,,We haven't seen you for a couple of days'' one of the villagers exclaims, scanning your features and noticing some cuts and bruises on your face. ,,Brief encounter with some guards'' you chuckle, not wanting to go into too much detail. ,,I don't have anything today unfortunately but I should soon'' you exclaim, however you are met with compassion and understanding.

,,Have either of you heard anything about Snow White lately?'' you ask the group of villagers, before most of them shake their head. ,,I believe she has last been seen up north, by the rivers'' one of them exclaims and you simply nod, appreciating their honesty, despite feeling terrible considering what game you are playing. Noticing the beginning dawn, the sun beginning to set, you opt to return to the palace, knowing you would never be able to make the journey up north within the next few hours. And it doesn't take long until you find yourself in front of the familiar back door, some guards already awaiting you. ,,Your majesty wants to see you'' he explains before you gulp and follow him.

He guides you back into the room you had been in before, the two of them sitting by the fireplace, before you stand awkwardly, feeling as if you are interrupting their peace. ,,Tell me, any information?'' the queen questions before she stands up and walks over to you. ,,Yes your majesty, apparently up north by the river'' you explain before she signals to the guard who remained standing there before he leaves at her instructions. ,,I would have checked the information for myself but I know I needed to return tonight'' you explain yourself and she simply furrows her eyebrows before scanning you, noticing the outfit change and the bag. ,,Well well, did our little pet make a stop somewhere?'' she asks, glancing at Wilhemina who simply watches with a chuckle. The brunette is quick to take the bag from you, her eyes glancing through the contents of it, noticing some seed pouches and chuckling as the redhead had filled her in on your earlier request. ,,What is this?'' she questions, holding up your notebook.

,,My notebook your majesty'' you exclaim, averting her gaze as your cheeks grow red a little. She skips through the pages, impressed with the several sketches, some from the villages, some from the forest and even one of her castle. She slides it back into your bag, before walking back over to her armchair, leaving you confused and stranded, unsure what to do next. ,,I feel like some tea, you dear?'' the queen announces and you aren't sure whether to leave them to it or whether they still needed you. ,,Of course'' the redhead begins, reaching for her cane but the queen stops her by waving her hand. ,,No no'' she tuts ,,We have a pet now remember dear'' she instructs and Wilhemina simply chuckles before they both look at you. You glance around the room, unsure where you are supposed to get tea from, however the redhead glances towards a backdoor behind the dining table and you nod gratefully before quickly walking through the door, finding a small tea kitchen there.

And so it doesn't take long before you enter the room again, carrying a little tray, before approaching them, with shaking hands placing it in front of them. ,,Anything else I can get you?'' you ask almost obediently and if you would have looked, you would have noticed the sparkle in Wilhemina's eyes. ,,No pet, but how about you join us considering you did so well today, I heard they have a trail on Snow White'' the queen chuckles and your eyes widen at her offer, but as Wilhemina pats the space next to her, you simply obey, quickly pouring the tea for them, before glancing at the fire, softly crackling, providing you with some warmth, as you feel a little awkward, under their careful gazes. ,,So tell me Y/N, what led you to steal from me in the first place?'' the queen begins, causing you to gulp as the last thing you expected was to find yourself having small talk over tea with them. ,,Yes Y/N'' Wilhemina mockingly carries on ,,We want to hear all about you'' she exclaims, again having you gulping and squirming in your seat.

The next few weeks, carry on the same way they had previously, most of your days are spent with taking care of the gardens, regularly going back to your village, providing them with some of the food that you had grown and nurtured, in secret of course. Your nights mostly looked the same as well, spending them in your room, doing some writing or sketching in your notebooks. However lately, they had often demanded your presence in the evening as well, as you often provided them with tea, the occasional wine, and any information you had on Snow White. And you couldn't help but notice how they seemed a little less strict, they stopped calling you pet and started with your actual name. You are sure by now they know that you have continued providing for your village and they hadn't killed you yet, not even mentioned it. And so, ever so slowly, your life at the palace felt almost normal as you had quite the freedom now, not having to let the guards know where you are going as they and her majesty knew you would always return in the evenings. And so it almost felt like home, appreciating the fact that you don't have to sleep on the wet and cold forest floor anymore but you knew there was something off, you should be terrified, trying to run from them after seeing all the horrible things they had done in the past but something about being around them so much, you started to understand more about the queens pain and the reason for her actions.

,,Where on earth is she?'' she paces around her large chambers, the anger flaring in her eyes as her magic sparks, her emotions bubbling out of the brunette.

Her loyal companion, sits by the fireplace, trying to keep her composure, before balancing on her cane, the sound echoing through the room. ,,I'm sure she just lost track of time'' the redhead tries calming her down, placing a hand on the queens shoulder but she is having none of that, quickly escaping her grasp. ,,She always returns, we were foolish to believe that she wouldn't betray us'' her raised voice rings through the air again, startling the redhead a little.

And Wilhemina wasn't sure whether the queen was actually concerned for your wellbeing, or simply considering whether to kill you, having noticed how Regina had almost gone soft since bringing you to the castle, still plotting her curse that she had worked on for a while but considerably softer with the people in the villages, especially your village. She knew all about you still providing them with food and yet Regina hadn't kill you and so Wilhemina had began wondering whether the brunette may feel the same way about you that Wilhemina had started, despite never talking about it.

The silence is interrupted when a guard enters ,,Your majesty'' he begins but she was having none of it. ,,Not now'' she shouts, waving her hand, getting ready to send him flying out the door. ,,Your majesty, we have finally found her'' he announces, the sound of more guards filling the air before her head snaps towards him. ,,Snow White?'' she questions, despite your best information and efforts lately, they still hadn't managed to capture her. ,,No your majesty'' he begins, before Wilhemina's heart stops in her chest.

They watch as another guard, drags your body inside, your face filled with blood as it pours from your mouth, your clothes stained and bruises beginning to plaster your face. Your eyes are closed as they throw you on the floor, in front of both women, smiling at themselves thinking they had captured you. ,,Are you both out of your minds?'' she shouts and the smiles quickly vanish from the guards faces. ,,Your majesty, Y/N has been searched for years'' he tries to justify his actions. ,,Didn't you two fools get the memo? she hasn't been searched for months, she belongs to this palace'' Wilhemina shouts, usually keeping her composure but unable to in this moment.

,,Pathetic idiots'' the evil queen shouts, in a swift motion making them turn into dust, wiping them from their existence quicker than either of them can take their next breath or justify their pathetic actions. Wilhemina is quick to rid you from the chains, her hand brushing past your cheek, the blood staining her leather gloves. Almost helplessly, Wilhemina turns to Regina, who simply stands frozen, before turning on her heels, abandoning you both as she leaves towards her balcony, trying hard to keep her emotions and rage at bay.

The battle of unconsciousness wins in the end, barely aware of the encounter that took place and so when you wake next, you find yourself in unfamiliar surroundings, a dark room, the only light sources some candles. As you try and force open your eyes, you notice the interior almost entirely a dark shade of lilac and your eyebrows furrow, trying to recollect the events from before. All you remember is trying to make your way back to the castle, stumbling upon some guards who clearly had no idea who you were and how they didn't listen to your pathetic attempts of explaining. How they beat you, hurt you and dragged you back to what you assume to be the castle. The last thing you see before sleep washes over your tired and beaten body is the lilac large sofa you are laying on before everything goes black and quiet.

Meanwhile Wilhemina had returned to the queens chambers, opting between getting you back to your room or a little closer to them and so she decides for one of her rooms in the end, needing the help of a guard to get you there, yet she trusted that same guard, having helped her with some of her secret missions in the past. She watched over you for a while, gently ridding you from the blood and changing your clothes for you, unsure why she was doing it but ignoring the thought for now, wanting to check on Regina. She finds the other woman still standing on her balcony, overlooking the gardens, despite the darkness of the night surrounding them. The cane echoing announces the redheads presence, as she stands beside her majesty, silence surrounding them.

,,How is she?'' the brunette asks, not averting her gaze from the dark night sky for a moment. ,,Fine'' Wilhemina mutters, still unsure how to read Regina's actions so far regarding you. And as the redhead catches a glimpse of the other woman's brown eyes, she can see something unfamiliar in them, something she couldn't read. ,,She's causing me to go soft'' she suddenly speaks, taking Wilhemina by surprise. ,,Is that such a bad thing?'' she questions in return, the queen averting her eyes again at the redheads statement. ,,Where is she?'' Regina asks after a moment of silence before Wilhemina speaks again. ,,She's safe'' and the statement causes for the queens eyebrows to furrow as her eyes draw towards the redheads again. ,,Where is she?'' she speaks again before Wilhemina swallows hard ,,In my room''.

,,Your room?'' her eyebrows raise now, surprised at the statement. ,,You are going soft too my dear'' she chuckles before giving her companion that nod, that nod that indicated she was tired and would retreat to her own chambers for the night. ,,Good night your majesty'' Wilhemina speaks before giving her the space she had silently asked for and retreating to her own room. In her room, she finds you still asleep and a wave of worry washes over her, having seen some of your wounds when changing and washing you before, concerned at the severity of them. ,,Y/N?'' she speaks almost softly, almost lovingly, so unlike the usual stern and intimidating woman. And her soft voice draws you from sleep instantly, as you open your eyes. And then it kinda dawns on you, who's room you are in and you instantly jolt, thinking you didn't belong there, unaware of who had put you there in the first place.

,,I'm so sorry Ms Venable'' you try, your voice still hoarse from sleep. ,,I don't know how I got here'' you apologise, trying to balance on your feet, however a sudden wave of pain washes over your body, causing you to tumble forward but a steady body forces you to remain still, stopping you from falling over. ,,It's okay dear'' she speaks so softly yet again and as you look up, you catch a glimpse of her brown eyes and how they sparkle, how suddenly she seems so much nicer, so much less intimidating and just a person, not the evil queens loyal companion. ,,Come on, let's sit you down'' she tries and you quickly obey, not wanting to cause any discomfort for her, unsure why she used a cane in the first place, but often sensing how uncomfortable she was whenever you caught a glimpse of her.

,,I put you here'' she confesses, causing your eyebrows to furrow in confusion but when the realisation sets in, your cheeks growing red a little, feeling silly for your earlier panic. ,,Is the pain quite bad?'' she asks, her features filled with concern but you quickly shake your bed. ,,No Ms Venable'' you assure, the pain much better now despite the remaining feeling of unbalance whenever standing up. The room fills with silence as you catch a glimpse of what you assume to be her chambers, the large wooden wardrobe in a corner, a large mirror, a desk with several books on them, two armchairs and a fireplace in the corner. As your eyes meet hers again you can't help but notice how she is staring at you, looking at you up and down as your eyebrows furrow in confusion, mirroring her actions to check if there was something wrong with your appearance.

,,You are quite pretty for a peasant'' she speaks quietly and now you are definitely contemplating whether you are awake, whether this was real. ,,Tha- Thank you Ms Venable'' you stumble over your words, unsure what to reply before she speaks again ,,You may call me Wilhemina'' she offers ,,But only when we are alone'' she instructs and you quickly nod your head, feeling a knot form in your stomach. The room fills with silence again, as you feel yourself relaxing in her presence a little, trying to think how you had gotten here in the first place, how being captured after all these years got you to a first name basis with her majesty's most trusted person. ,,What happened to you tonight?'' Wilhemina asks, drawing your thoughts and eyes back to her.

And then without hesitation and the usual composure you have around them, you fill her in on what had happened with the guards, and she listens intently, her jaw stiffening a couple of times when mentioning some of the more violent details. Before she can reply, the door bursts open, and your eyes widen when seeing the queen enter, in a dark nightgown, her hair down, the makeup gone and for the first time feeling like actually seeing Regina. ,,I can't sleep'' she sighs before noticing your presence and tensing her shoulders, not expecting you to still be there as it had been hours since Wilhemina mentioned having you in her room and assuming by now that you had left to your own room again.

,,And what are you still doing here?'' she questions, more to Wilhemina than yourself really. ,,We were just talking'' Wilhemina informs, her features remaining neutral. ,,I'll leave you to it your majesty'' you speak, quickly on your feet and ignoring the pain and dizziness as you brush past her and return to your own room. That night you have a hard time finding sleep, equally to the queen before, as you toss and turn at first, before eventually giving up on the idea of sleep and retreating to the comfort of your words and sketches as the pen flies over the pages of your notebook.

The next morning you return to your usually tasks, going on about your day, finding an odd sense of peace and quiet in the gardens. Unaware who was again looking over you, observing quietly from her balcony. And the next few weeks continue just like that, you going on about your usual tasks, having your evening encounters with both women who stopped tolerating your presence and started appreciating it, as you bring an odd sense of calm around them, some life into their monotone lives. And within those weeks you feel yourself increasingly drawn to both women, especially after they had taken you to your village a few days ago in the queens carriage, how you assumed Regina was going to bring her usual wrath of violence over people but instead her carriage brought food and supplies for your people and you couldn't believe your eyes, just as stunned as the poor people who feared as soon as they heard the queens guards and carriage arrive.

And you wondered whether maybe, just maybe the queen was going soft, unaware of the events that had taken turn behind closed doors, of how the queen had casted her spell and how it was slowly brewing, unaware of what it would bring, chaos, forgetting and what she had always desired most- her own version of a happy ending. And so tonight, you were unaware that the upcoming day would bring just that, unaware that tonight was your last with them. You had been confused about the queens unusual cheerful mood, how she had invited you to join them for supper, how Wilhemina could barely stand your gaze. How silently Wilhemina had pleaded for the queen to stop her curse but she couldn't stop it as it had been brewing silently for months and how nothing could stop it now, despite her beginning to silently regret it, despite her never admitting that to no one, not even herself really.

You find yourself sitting beside Wilhemina by the fireplace, how her eyes linger on the dancing flames, not having said much all night. ,,Wilhemina, is everything okay?'' you question silently and as her eyes meet yours, you see the pain, the doubts in them and so many unspoken words. However, your peace is interrupted when the queen enters, the door banging shut in the process and your heart stopping in your chest as you notice what she was carrying in her hands. Your notebook slaps against the table as she throws it on it, leaving behind a very confused and startled Wilhemina.

,,What is this?'' the redhead questions, her eyes meeting the angry queens eyes.

,,Ask her'' Regina spits, her angry eyes meeting yours. Wilhemina's eyebrows furrow in confusion as she looks at you. You can't do anything but stand, taking a step towards her majesty, knowing if she had read it, you would be beyond screwed.

,,I can explain your majesty'' you pathetically try but before you get the chance to, she takes a step closer, the echoing of her heels matching her inner turmoil as her eyes shoot daggers towards you, before you gasp as a hand extracts your heart, watching in shock as she holds it in her hands, the sound of it beating steadily filling the room.

,,Regina-'' Wilhemina shouts, quickly on her feet and her eyes travelling from you to the brunette.

,,I have had a feeling this carried your secrets'' she speaks, her eyes wandering towards your notebook. ,,And I wasn't surprised to read all your little confessions, find all your little sketches'' she speak almost mockingly, her eyes filled with both rage and pain.

,,Regina- what is it?'' Wilhemina tries again, her heart beating fast, her hands trembling with fear.

,,She loves us dear, both of us, the pages are filled with it'' she informs her companion, who simply stands there with a shocked expression as the room begins spinning a little.

,,Regina stop'' Wilhemina demands, her eyes pleading with the queen, her cane banging on the floor twice.

Regina's grip on your heart tightens, her gaze cold as she holds it in her hands, causing you to gasp for air. ,,Stop?'' she repeats, her tone dripping with disdain. ,,Why would I stop? when I have finally uncovered the truth about our little pet?''

Fear courses through your veins as you watch the scene unfold before you. Wilhemina's eyes widen in shock, her features mixed with disbelief and anguish. ,,Regina please'' she pleads again, her voice barely above a whisper ,,This isn't necessary''

,,You know that she loves us, you have known for a while now, we both have'' she pleads again as she steps forward, her voice filled with desperation.

Regina's eyes flicker with anger but Wilhemina continues, her words gaining strength. ,,Love should triumph over revenge'' she argues, her gaze never leaving Regina's.

The Queen's expression softens slightly at Wilhemina's words, a flicker of doubt crossing her features. For a moment it seems as though she might relent, before she senses that her curse almost reached you, knowing it was too late, that she couldn't fix this, before her eyes harden once more, her resolve returning.

"Love is a weakness, Wilhemina," she retorts, her voice cold and unforgiving. "It blinds us, makes us vulnerable. We cannot afford such weakness in our world."

Before Wilhemina can respond, having heard those same words fall many times from the queens lips, Regina reaches out and places your heart back in your chest. The pain is intense, causing you to drop to the floor, and as Regina leaves the room, Wilhemina rushes to your side, abandoning her cane, pulling you into her arms as she braces for whatever comes next.

As she glances towards the door where Regina stands, a thick cloud of purple and green already surrounding her, the dark curse finally having reached you, she is quick to press a tender kiss to your lips, causing your eyes to open. ,,I love you Y/N'' she murmurs against your mouth, her voice filled with emotion. ,,No matter what happens, remember that''

Then, as the room fills with smoke and darkness, Wilhemina shields you with her body, trying to protect you from the curse's effects. As the world fades around you, you cling to her, unaware of what is happening, unaware that in a matter of seconds you would forget everything, forget them, forget your life and the woman still trying desperately to hold you close, despite it being useless.

#regina mills #the evil queen #regina mills x reader #regina mills fanfiction #wilhemina venable #Wilhemina Venable x reader #american horror story imagine #ahs #ahs apocalypse #au #writing #once upon a time #sarah paulson x reader #sarah paulson #american horror story #ahs coven

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pirateswhore · 9 months

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Her White Wolf

With Rumple gone, Belle is left to pick up the pieces on her own. Could a certain wolf help mend her heart? Mid season 4 AU (aka giving Belle the brain cells she needs and resolving my first queer disappointment on the show).

thank you @xarandomdreamx for being a lovely beta !

for - @caliburn-the-sword

Prologue and Chapter 1 published on Ao3:

Prologue - In the Aftermath.

It hurt like nothing had hurt before. Finding the gauntlet that she thought he had traded for her years ago. Using it, foolishly thinking it would simply point towards her, only to be led to the dagger. The dagger? Didn’t he give her the dagger? She picked it up and felt its heavy weightin her hand and an intense pull, nothing like she had ever felt before with the dagger she was given. A fake. Obviously. He lied to her, like he had so, so many times.

The next few minutes now feel like a blur. Appearing before him, seeing him holding Hook’s heart in his hand, squeezing it. Commanding him to take them to the town edge. Forcing him over it. His cowardly cries and pleas for forgiveness. And then he was gone, and she dropped on her knees and buried her face in her hands so she didn’t have to see him scramble away like a pathetic, injured dog.

The next thing she remembers is a hand and hook on each shoulder, urging her to stand up, leading her to the back seat of a yellow bug. She couldn’t quite remember or care for what they told her, spending the entire car ride back to her house staring out the window. They helped her out of the car, led her to her front door, told her something about reaching out if she needed help, and squeezed her shoulder in support. And then she walked into the flat, took her coat off and climbed into bed, pulling the covers over her, hoping it was all an awful, awful dream that she would soon be waking up from.

“Hey, Belle.”

She lifted her head from the coffee cup in front of her to see Hook standing next to her table.

“Mind some morning company, love?”

She sniffled and nodded and he scooted into the chair opposite of hers. He ordered a coffee himself and they sat in silence for a while, her gaze dropping back down to the table.

“Thank you. For saving my life,” he spoke quietly, treading carefully through the conversation, “I wouldn't be here if you had not intervened the other day.” Days? Has it been that long? This was the first time she’d left the flat since… the incident, having spent all her time sobbing in bed. She looked up at him, meeting his gaze - gratitude, pain, remorse. He strained a little smile and tilted his head down slightly. She returned the smile and straightened her back, sniffling back a sob.

“Of course. The least I could do.” He reached out his hand to meet hers.

“I’m not sure how much of this you heard when Emma and I took you home, but just know that we are here for you, whatever you need, okay? You have both our talking phone numbers, we’re just a call away,” he squeezed her hand and she was barely holding back tears. How was he still so kind to her after all the crap her husband had done to him? When she was too blind to see through his lies and do anything to stop him for such a long time. She didn’t deserve any thanks from him, or anyone. She could have stopped all this so long ago. All she could do now was squeeze his hand back and nod.

They drank their coffee in silence, commenting about their day and plans every so often. She confessed her remorse over not stopping Rumple sooner and Killian stated how guilty he felt over doing his bidding, at which Belle shot him a smile.

“I'm sure we could find a way to release the faeries.”

“You think?”

“Sure! We have everything originally used to trap them, the hat, the dagger-”

“Me,” he chuckled. She rolled her eyes and continued.

“I'm certain Rumple has some books on it. Or maybe Regina does. We could set up a base camp in the library, it’s not like either one of us has anything better to do, and it could help us relieve some guilt.”

His smile dropped a little. “You’d be okay with working close to me?”

“Of course I would! Why shouldn't I?”

“I… I tried to kill you. I shot you.”

Her shoulders relaxed and she placed both hands over his. “Killian… I don’t hold that against you. You’ve changed since then. I’ve forgiven you.”

He smiled, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. They ordered breakfast and talked about the details of researching the hat and its magic and she actually managed to forget the pain her ex husband had caused her and others. Maybe she could make up for not seeing through his charade sooner. After they finished their food, they ran down to the sheriff's station and told Emma about their plan, who seemed proud and enthusiastic, and Regina, who seemed dismissive but still offered them help if they needed it. She still had keys to Rumple’s shop, so she asked Killian and Emma to take out any books they may find useful - she couldn't bring herself to go in there. Within the hour they were walking past Granny's again, stopping to pick up a to-go order for the lunch she had placed before they left.

She walked into the diner, seeing as Killian was trying to balance a stack of books with his hand and hook and couldn't carry anything else. Granny waved her down and said her order would be bagged in a minute, so Belle took a seat by the bar. She could hear people talking behind her, throwing a few glances her way before whispering amongst each other.

I heard she pushed him over the town line herself. Yea she finally came to her senses about him. Wonder if the pawn shop is still open? I feel sorry for her, he manipulated her.

The pity in their voices sounded almost derogative to her. She should have been smarter, seen through his lies way sooner, left him before he could hurt her and others the way he did. But she didn't. She gave him chance after chance only to be met with deceit and disappointment. She was stupid. She knows that now. She pushed the thoughts back, trying her best not to focus on them. Just pick up the order and go, Belle. Five minutes.

"Order for Gold?" A voice called out. She winced and made a mental note of annulling the marriage as soon as possible and getting back to her maiden name.

She looked up and her mouth dropped open a little. Ruby. She hadn't seen her since they all came back from the Enchanted Forest (granted, she was busy) and couldn't help the smile that spread across her face.

"Oh- sorry, is it still Gold?" The woman handed her two paper bags.

"Yea… I need to go down to the mayor's office to revert it to my maiden name. It's good to see you again Ruby."

"Yeah, it's good to be back."

"You left?"

"For a little bit, I was feeling restless and hoping to find someplace I belong. That didn't really pan out so I'm back here. Plus Granny needs my help with the diner."

"Maybe we could catch up sometime soon."

"I'd like that."

They exchanged smiles and see-you's and Belle walked out of the diner and headed to the library with Killian. Moving on and picking up the pieces was going to be hard, but perhaps she didn't have to do it on her own.

________________________________________

Chapter I - Moving On

Ruby's return to Storybrooke brought with it mixed emotions. She didn't feel like she was part of the town, or fully accepted by the townsfolk. But there was nothing for her in the Enchanted Forest and here she at least had her grandma. Even if it meant working in the diner all her life, it was better than nothing.

Today, she was on delivery duty. Which meant driving around town in Granny's run-down delivery van all day, trying her best to not get the orders mixed up. She got back into the car and looked at the next delivery's notes: B. French, 2 grilled cheese sandwiches, 1 large fry serving, 1 medium onion ring serving, 2 sodas. Deliver to Town Library at 12:30pm

Belle.

The brunette had made herself a regular at the diner over the last week, stopping for coffee and a bagel every morning. Talking to her made the otherwise insufferable morning shift actually pleasant for Ruby, even if for just a few short minutes. Belle usually had her order to-go, saying that Killian was waiting for her at the library.

"What are you two up to in there anyways? Killian often doesn't come back to his room until after dinner time." Ruby had asked her once. The question made Belle stir in her seat for a moment.

"We're uh... We're trying to undo some of what Rumple had done. Starting with getting the faeries out of the hat."

"Oh! That's so sweet of you. Any progress?" Belle's face sank at that and she shook her head slightly. "Ah... well I'm sure you two will figure something out. You're smart."

If she didn't know any better, Ruby could've sworn she saw the blood rush to the other woman's cheeks as she mewled a small "thank you".

She rounded the corner and parked the van near the library. Ruby knew from the order that Killian was probably there as well, but a part of her hoped it would be just Belle. She couldn't pin down exactly why she wanted that and she didn't want to think too much into it. She walked to the library and pushed the heavy door open, calling out that the delivery was here. There was no response and after stepping inside, Ruby was met with an empty reception desk and no sign of either Belle or Killian. There was a corkboard in one corner with photos and notes and red string pinned into it.

"Belle? Hook?" she called out again and waited for an answer, focusing her ears to any sound they would pick up. She both liked and despised her heightened senses. They were useful most of the time but she could do without overhearing certain conversations and comments, especially the ones pertaining to her. Some people still feared her, feared she would turn into a wolf and ravage the diner's clientele at random.

She's been getting better at controlling it, or at least subduing it. She cut off a trim of her cloak and wore it on her at all times, in her hair, around her neck, or tucked into a pocket. It helped prevent any emotional outburst from triggering a transformation. She still hated the full moon however; being turned against her will and having to hide herself away all day, trying to contain the beast. Before the Moon rose into the sky at night, she was snappy, aggressive, every little inconvenience made her blood boil. The new moon, in turn, left her weak and lethargic and all she wanted to do was sleep. It had its ups and downs but she was doing her best at managing it.

Her ears picked up on the faintest of sobs and her head turned towards the back of the library. She left the order at the reception desk and made her way into the library, through the shelves and towards a back room. The sobs got louder and standing in front of the door with a ‘Employees Only sign, she could hear them clear as day.

"Belle..." she could tell it was her, the sweet perfume she wore lingering in the air. It hurt Ruby to hear her cry, and not just because it was so loud for her - Belle crying was not something Ruby ever wanted to see. "Belle?" she called out a little louder, tapping on the door. The sobs and whimpers stopped and the inside lock released, creaking the door open just a smidge. Ruby pushed it open wider and saw Belle hunkered down on the floor, sitting on a book stack with a tissue in hand. "Hey," she whispered out weakly, straightening her back but not looking up at the woman standing in the doorway.

Ruby crouched down, running her hand up and down the woman's shoulder, hoping to soother her. "I came in with your food and heard you crying, is everything okay?" Her eyes wandered to a book lying on the ground (it was unlike Belle to drop books, she treated them like sacred items). It was a Disney book, based on this world's version of "Beauty and the Beast" movie, featuring art and scenes from it. Ruby glanced back at Belle and urged her with a small smile.

"I found the book while sorting something," she started, "and it just... it hurts. That's how we were supposed to go, he was supposed to change and be a better man because of love. But I wasn't enough for him, no matter what I did."

"Oh Belle." Ruby moved closer and sat down next to Belle, putting an arm around her. "Some stories are just that - stories. And some stories have different versions, in yours it simply didn't work out." That caused another sob to escape Belle's chest and Ruby's clenched at the sound. "I'm so sorry he hurt you, but you can't put all the blame on yourself. When we love someone, we do our best to look past their flaws and see the best in them."

"Even if there isn't any good?"

"Belle, you have the wonderful tendency to see the good in anyone. Please don't let what Rumple did discourage you from it."

"What if I'm wrong about them again?"

"You weren't wrong about me, were you?" That seemingly calmed Belle's crying so Ruby went on. "When the entire town was dead set on hunting me down, you stayed by me. I'll never forget that.

Belle went silent for a while as Ruby continued to rub her shoulder. She hadn't noticed how close to one another they were, how their thighs pressed together or how good Ruby smelled until now. She also didn't realise that, with the way her head was hung, she was staring directly down the she-wolf's cleavage. Blood rushed to her cheeks but she made no attempt to move away, choosing instead to just lift her head to meet Ruby's eyes. She smiled down at her but concern was still painted on her face.

Belle had always been fond of her. She hadn't forgotten that Ruby had helped her in the past, and she was forever grateful for it. Ruby was fun, outgoing, openly flirtatious and spontaneous at times - all the things Belle had trouble expressing. She'd spent too long suppressing who she was and what she wanted in favour of coaxing Rumple to the side of good, hoping to calm the beast down long enough for the man to come out, thinking that, if she appeared more appealing than magic, he would give it up for her. Some good that had brought her.

"You good?" she finally asked, cocking her head to the side slightly. It reminded Belle of those videos of dogs, tilting their heads when intrigued by something. It made sense, she figured, considering Ruby was part wolf.

"I just don't know where to go from here," Belle confessed, "I spent so long doing everything I could to make myself good enough for Rumple. And now that he's gone? I have no idea what to do with myself."

Ruby's smile widened at that and she stood up. "There's time for you to figure that out. You won't have to do it on your own, you have friends to help you through it." She extended a hand and helped Belle up.

"Emma and Killian have been very supportive. It feels like they're the only two people in town who don't pity or resent me over Rumple."

"Wrong," Ruby stated. "There’s at least three people who feel that way."

"You?"

"Of course, silly. You're dear to me, would I have helped you if that wasn't the case?" Belle opened her mouth to say something, but simply nodded in agreement.

Ruby wasn't lying, but she wasn't being completely honest either - Belle was dear to her, but it went deeper than just friendly affection. If she had to put a name to it, it would probably be 'crush', although that felt too inane. From the moment she met her, she felt a pull towards Belle, a primal desire to help and protect her igniting deep inside her. Something about her made Ruby's heart dance; the way her face lit up when she was excited, how her eyes sparkled with an ever present hope she had for people, her undying loyalty to loved ones and her inability to give up on them. Ruby admired her for that but it hurt her too, seeing the physical embodiment of sunshine be rained on and pushed around time and time again. The love and support she had for others abused and mistreated.

It was exactly that love and devotion that had her running back to Rumple, believing all his lies and promises. Ruby respected that, she knew that Belle truly did love him (even if, in her mind, that love was misplaced and ill-appreciated) so she never made a move. However, now with Rumple gone and Belle left to once again, pick up the pieces, Ruby wished for nothing more than to be there for her. She knew she'd have to tread carefully so as to not come off as predatory, seeking to take advantage of Belle's heartbroken state.

Ruby smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind Belle's ear. "I'm here for you, whatever you need. Just as I was before."

"Thank you, Ruby. And I for you, alright?"

The two smiled at each other and for a moment Ruby felt like leaning just a little bit closer, closing her eyes and just throwing caution to the wind (she wasn't a stranger to that), but the ring of Belle's phone whisked that daydream right away. She glanced down at it, pouting at the message.

"Killian says he got caught up sailing with Henry so he's running late, but he'll be here in a few minutes."

Fuck, Ruby had forgot all about her delivery duty. Granny was going to kill her.

They made their way to the front of the library, Belle checked to see if the orders were correct and handed Ruby the money for it."

"I should get back to delivering orders, but please, Belle, know that I'm here for you. Don't be a stranger, reach out whenever." She reached out and squeezed her hand, smiling at her. Belle smiled back and pulled her into a hug, squeezing tightly. Ruby's cheeks reddened, surprised at the sudden (but very welcomed) contact.

Walking back to the van, Ruby couldn't help but feel warmth radiating off of her entire body.

#chantecler writing #red beauty #ouat #ruby x belle #ruby lucas #belle french #these bitches gay #ouat fanfiction

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deadlyflames · 1 year

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Swanfire Month Day 14: Classic fairy-tale that reminds you of Swanfire: Orpheus and Eurydice

Emma was a poor girl. You might say she was touched by the gods. She would to bring the world back into tune, and fix what was wrong.

Baelfire was a hungry young boy. A runaway from everywhere he’d ever been. He was no stranger to world, no stranger to the wind.

It's a love song. It's a tale of a love from long ago.

It's a sad song. We keep singing even so.

It's an old song. It's an old tale from way back when.

And we're gonna sing it again and again.

This one is a bit of a weird connection. You can blame my obsession with Hadestown. I drew a lot of comparisons between Orpheus and Eurydice and Emma and Neal. Both work in either role. But I went with this interpretation.

I have this very specific image of a Swanfire version of the Underworld storyline. Like, it’s so easy for me to picture that arc being done for Swanfire. I mean, Rumplestilskin would obviously help Emma get to the Underworld for his son. Henry would follow for his dad. Regina would follow for Henry and Snowing would follow for their daughter. Even Hook would go with them for Baelfire.

But I think a really interesting way they could have used the Swanfire relationship in the Underworld was for Emma to do the Orpheus test. Because it makes so much sense for them.

(I think that’s what they were trying to reference with the true love test? Maybe? but it fell kinda flat in my opinion, but that’s a whole other thing)

Because it’s a test of trust and with their history, that trust was shaky, and still in the process of being rebuilt.

Just picture it though.

Emma walking through the dark.

She can’t look behind her and, for added uncertainty, Neal can’t speak either.

You can hear the echoing of footsteps and you can see the shadow behind her, but it’s uncertain. Maybe it’s a trick. Maybe it’s not.

Maybe he only said he would be behind her because he wanted to get her out of the Underworld.

She’s talking about all the hurt she felt after he abandoned her. All the pain they’ve gone through since they reunited. How he broke her heart and how she’s not even sure if he’s there now.

From Emma’s perspective, her and Neal are always being separated by powers beyond their control. When he left her when they were young, because of her destiny and his father’s curse. When he fell through the portal after being shot. When the curse was erased and they were ripped from each other again.

Why should this be any different?

It takes all her strength not to look behind her. To take that leap and believe that this will work.

When she’s just about to exit the underworld and return to the world above, she hits that pivotal fork in the road.

She can let her doubt take route, and turn to look behind. She can loose him one final time, and this time will be for good. But it will be the last time she gets her heart broken.

Or she can continue on. She can reach across all that hurt between them, and put her trust in him once again. She can open her heart up, even though letting him in risks the chance of losing him again.

The trust vs doubt dichotomy would be so interesting to tackle. Because that kind of blind faith is something that Emma has always struggled with, and it would be especially relevant to her relationship with Neal. It either ends in tragedy or a happy ending. I would lean towards happy ending because I feel like Emma choosing trust would be a good moment of growth.

Xxxx

Though the tragedy angle would break me. Can y’all freaking imagine. Emma turning back and Neal is there. She’s stunned and horrified.

“It’s you?”

He’s shocked but gives her a broken, comforting smile before he fades away.

“It’s me.”

Emma’s next arc is about the aftermath of guilt and grief. And then we all cry forever.

Anyway, sorry this part of the post was totally incoherent. The Underworld plot was a total missed opportunity. Hadestown is great, listen to it if you wanna cry.

#swanfire #swanfire month 2022 #ouat #emma swan #baelfire #nealfire #neal cassidy #once upon a time

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hollie911 · 2 years

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This is not my work. It is by the user constantwriter85 whose account had been deactivated on tumblr and ao3 and i am just sharing their work

The devil you know

Vampire!jefferson x reader

Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Blood Drinking, Light details of an Autopsy/Medical Procedure, Angst, Fluff

Part 3/10

“Well, hello there.”

Your heart leapt in your throat. That wasn’t Jefferson—you had no idea who this woman was. You unlocked the door, standing aside as she brushed past you.

“Um, can I help you?”

The woman smiled broadly, although it didn’t settle your nerves any. She looked like a wolf about to make a kill.

“I certainly hope so…Y/N, is it? Assistant Coroner?” The woman waltzed into the lab, drawing her finger possessively across the cabinets. “I believe you are just the person who can help me find who I’m looking for.”

You simply stared at her and shook your head. “I’m sorry, who are you? This place is off limits to—”

“Oh excuse me, of course! I’m Regina,” she said, as if this explained everything. “I’m looking for a young man that was brought here, about 25 years old, brown haired and blue eyed, large wooden stake through his heart. I’m sure you couldn’t miss him.”

Jefferson. She was talking about Jefferson. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, and something told you this woman was dangerous.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but that information is confidential. You’ll have to take all official inquiries to the poli—”

“No, I’m quite certain you can help me,” Regina said, her eyes flashing dangerously. “You see, I know he was brought here, and I know you’re lying to me.”

You slowly stood, edging your way towards your cell phone on the desk.

“I’m sorry lady, but I don’t know what you’re talking about. No one was brought here by that description—”

In the blink of an eye Regina was upon you, her hands gripping your throat tightly. She squeezed, and you felt your air being choked off as your feet scrabbled for purchase against the slick linoleum.

“Oh, poppet, I’m afraid you don’t understand the game we’re playing.” She squeezed tighter, and stars began to explode behind your eyes. “The game is, you give me answers and I won’t kill you.”

With superhuman strength, she threw you across the room. Your body collided with a shelving cabinet and the glass door shattered. White hot pain lanced through your shoulder and you fell to the floor, crying out as your left knee struck the floor hard.

For a moment you just lay there, gasping for breath. Struggling to your feet, you looked around for something to defend yourself with, but before you were able to get up she hit you again. You flew backwards into the refrigerated cadaver drawers.

Your head hit the sharp corner of the drawer and your vision went dark for a moment. When you opened your eyes again your vision was doubled, and you felt something warm and sticky trickling down the side of your face.

“Let’s try this again,” Regina cooed to you sweetly. “The body—I know it was brought here, where is it? I want to see it.”

You swallowed thickly, trying to think despite the cloud of pain and confusion in your head. This woman was dangerous—for all you knew, she was the one who had tried to hurt Jefferson. He meant absolutely nothing to you, yet something told you to protect him.

“Okay, okay! He was here—last night,” you panted. “I…I did the autopsy on him myself, there’s a copy of the report on the desk if you want to see it.”

Regina’s eyes narrowed. “He was dead? Where’s the body now?” She looked at the refrigerated cadaver drawers, but you shook your head.

“N-No, the body’s gone. It was picked up this morning and sent for private cremation, you can ask the Sheriff if you don’t believe me. The transfer papers are right there on the desk.”

Regina stared at you for a moment. Then she huffed and glanced around the ruined lab, clenching her jaw in irritation. You scuttled backwards as she leveled her glance at you and advanced upon where you lay. She grabbed you up by the hair and spun you around, and your hands flew to your throat, feeling a blade pressed to your jugular.

“You better be telling the truth, girl, or you’ll wish I had finished you here.”

A little flick, and a small trail of blood trickled down your throat. “I’ll be watching you,” she warned.

Regina released you, and you fell to the floor. She snatched the paperwork from the desk as she left, the doors slamming shut behind her.

You weren’t sure how long you lay there, curled in a ball on the floor. You were shaking, your eyes burning as your chest heaved in panic. Everything hurt—your throat felt raw and swollen, your knee and shoulder throbbed, and your head was splitting with a headache that made you want to throw up.

That woman—that horrible woman—was after Jefferson. She’d almost killed you, just to get information on him.

What had you gotten yourself into?

Okay, Y/N…damage control. Get ahold of yourself, get the situation under control.

Gradually your breathing slowed and you sat up, taking inventory of the morgue lab. Things had been knocked around, but at least not much had been broken, other than you. It shouldn’t be too hard to clean up.

Okay…okay…I can do this. Just pick up the pieces, put them back, and no one will ever know.

Grabbing a small towel, you dabbed at the blood on your head and shoulder with shaking hands. You limped around the lab, cleaning up the mess and wondering just at what point your life had become a series of cover-ups.

You wrote a quick note to Dr. Whale about the broken glass door, saying you accidently hit it with your rolling stool. Broken glass was swept up, supplies were replaced, and you blood was wiped from the floor. Before long, the lab was back to normal.

Staring around the clinically tidy space, you couldn’t feel anything other than the anxiety and fear brewing in your chest. What if she found out you lied? What if she came back?

You could still feel Regina’s hands around your neck. Her sickly sweet voice hissing in your ear. A razor-sharp knife pressed to your throat, ready to end you in an instant.

You had to get out of there.

Without a second thought you shoved a scalpel in the pocket of your scrubs and walked off into the night, leaving behind your bicycle and your jacket. You didn’t think, you didn’t even care…you just needed to be away from that place.

The minutes stretched on as you wandered through the woods towards town. The panic continued to build, and soon you found yourself at the broad avenue that ran through the park. Feeling lightheaded and near hysterical, you collapsed onto a nearby park bench.

Then the tears came.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there, sobbing like a child. The sound of a soft footstep behind you had you on your feet, your heart hammering in your throat and scalpel raised in your hand.

“Y/N?”

***

Jefferson couldn’t wait any longer. He had to see her.

He had awoken at dusk, reborn again as the living dead like he always was, but with Y/N’s name on his lips and her beautiful face in his mind. All he could think about was her—what she had done for him, and how he could manage to see her again.

He wondered if she would be at the morgue tonight. It was a safe assumption; it was still the work week, and if she was working last night she was liable to be working again tonight.

Still, he didn’t want to bother her. Jefferson rocked on his heels, twisting his hands together. What if he was misreading their previous encounter? What if her attitude towards him and what he was had changed—after all, many things end up looking different in the light of day.

He still didn’t understand why she had helped him. What if she was horrified by what had happened, or even worse, disgusted by him? His head was spinning—he didn’t think he could take a flat-out rejection from her.

In another life, Jefferson wouldn’t have hesitated. But this was reality, and the truth of the matter was that he was a monster, the kind horror stories were made of. He wasn’t even human anymore.

Who could possibly love the likes of him?

So it was with a heavy ache in his chest that he went up to his study, instead. He pulled out the ancient spell book that had started this whole mess, and began deciphering and translating the ancient text.

Hours passed, and he had gotten nowhere. His mind kept wandering, but Jefferson was stubborn when he wanted to be.

“Why on god’s green earth are you sitting up here, pouring over that musty old book when there is a beautiful young woman who I’m sure would love to see you again?”

Jefferson’s head jerked up to see Mrs. Conrad standing in the doorway, holding a tea service in her hands. His mouth opened and closed, and she snorted as she set it on his desk.

“When’s the last time you fed, Jefferson, you looked peaked.”

“L-Last night—”

“I call that a small taste to bring you back from the jaws of death, my boy, not a proper feeding. You need to eat.”

She set a thermos down on the desk with a thud. Jefferson eyed it with disgust—it was blood from the local blood bank, he knew, and enough to keep him healthy, but he hated it nonetheless. That blood was meant to help save someone’s life, not for the likes of him.

“Drink it while it’s still warm, you know how vile it gets once it’s cold.”

Jefferson pointedly poured himself a cup of tea instead, ignoring the thermos.

“I’m fine.”

Mrs. Conrad scowled at him, and then her expression softened.

“You’re not fine. You’re depleted…weak. You’ve gotten in your own head again, I can tell. Sitting up here sulking, feeling sorry for yourself and your lot in life. Neglecting your health, all over a woman.” She nodded at the thermos. “Replenish your strength, and then get your arse up from behind that desk and go see that girl.”

“What if she doesn’t—”

“She does. Trust me.”

Jefferson blinked, staring at the thermos. He was hungry, dreadfully so. His jaw clenched as he opened the thermos, staring at the contents for a moment before pouring himself a glass of the crimson liquid. He hesitated a moment before downing it, hating himself for how good it tasted…and for how much he needed it.

Thermos finished, he sat back in the chair, eyes closed and breathing heavily, already feeling the blood’s rejuvenating effects.

“Well? Are you going to go see her, or not?”

Jefferson blinked an eye open in mock irritation. “You’re rather pushy, do you know that?”

“Young men need to be pushed.”

“I’m older than you, you old bat,” he muttered.

She scoffed. “Your bones may be old Jefferson, but your mind and heart are young…and naive. You need an old biddy like me around to keep you in line.”

Jefferson laughed as he stood and wrapped an arm around her waist, affectionately kissing the top of her grizzled, white hair. “I don’t know what I’d do without you Mrs. Conrad, do you know that?”

“Probably waste away to nothing, if left to your own devices…you’re lucky I agree to keep working here.” She chuckled and blushed at his display of affection, pushing his shoulder. “Get out of here! Go, see your girl—I feel like I’m in a gothic drama instead of the twenty-first century, with all this angst and pining.”

Twenty minutes later, Jefferson was out the front door, down his front steps and walking purposefully towards the morgue. It was situated on the edge of town, actually not far from his house.

Storybrooke was a typical Maine town, one long main street bisected with various side streets. There was the town park with a large wooded area that bordered one edge, near where the morgue and county offices were located. Jefferson’s house was located just at the edge of the woods, high on a hill overlooking the town.

Nervous excitement began to build in him as he pushed open the front door to the morgue. It was late at night, or rather, early in the morning, and the place was utterly deserted. Recalling his path from the previous night, he turned the corner and walked down the long hallway to the lab. Pushing open the door, he knocked and called out to Y/N, not wanting to startle her.

He was met with silence.

The lab was deserted as well. Jefferson frowned in confusion, then halted in his tracks—something was wrong. Everything was neatly put away, papers stacked neatly, and there was a slight tang of antiseptic spray that covered the general smell of death in the air. Common smells for a morgue, but underneath it all, Jefferson could smell fresh blood.

Her blood.

He followed the scent to the large red receptacle labeled ‘biohazard,’ and peered inside. Sure enough, there was a towel on top, soaked in red. All his senses immediately shot into overdrive.

“Y/N?” He called louder this time, and his voice held more of an edge.

She wasn’t here. Her coat was still in her open locker, though, and he remembered seeing her bicycle out front. Jefferson walked quickly to the front office and out the front door

Once outside he paused, sniffing the air and catching the scent of her blood again. He already knew it well. He looked down and saw a couple drops of red on the leaves scattered on the sidewalk. Bending down, he touched a finger to the blood spot and tasted it.

It was hers, and it was fresh.

Jefferson was on his feet in a flash. He walked quickly, following the faint scent trail into the woods and towards the town center. Something was wrong—he knew it. Why would she just leave her coat and bicycle behind? It was freezing out. Y/N was hurt, she could be in trouble, and Jefferson had the sinking feeling it had something to do with him.

The trail cut across to the park, and soon he found himself walking down the broad avenue that bisected the wooded area. His eyes narrowed as he spotted a figure sitting alone on a bench.

As he drew closer, the scent of blood drew stronger. It was Y/N, sitting on the park bench and crying into her sleeves. Her sobs broke his heart; in each he could hear her pain and fear. Jefferson stepped a little closer, and now he could hear her heartbeat, racing away in barely controlled panic.

Jefferson was starting to panic a bit himself. He didn’t know how badly she was injured, or what had happened to her. He hated it—it killed him to see her this way. She was so scared. Jefferson didn’t want to frighten her any further, so he let himself be heard walking up to her as he called out softly.

“Y/N?”

She gasped and whirled, stumbling to her feet. He heard her heartbeat kick up a notch, and the scalpel trembled in her hand, the moonlight glinting off the blade. Her eyes were wide with fear.

“It’s me, it’s just me—” he blurted, holding up his hands. “It’s all right, it’s just—”

“J-Jefferson?”

She took a wavering step towards him, and he closed the distance between them in a few strides, wrapping his arms around her. Being this close to her was almost unbearable, and the scent of her blood was doing things to him, things it shouldn’t have been doing so soon after he fed.

He could smell her. Her blood, the perfume she wore, her shampoo, and a scent that was just… her. It was like all his senses were heightened—he could see only her, every sharp detail, from the goosebumps on her skin to every hair that was out of place, all while her heartbeat thudded away in his ears. Despite his fear and worry for her, he felt a carnal hunger—a need that both embarrassed and frightened him.

Good god, what the hell is wrong with you! Pull yourself together, Jefferson, she needs you!

Whatever had happened, it had frightened her deeply. His heart broke to see her like this, and he murmured softly in her ear while she trembled against him.

“Shh…it’s all right, you’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Jefferson sank onto the park bench, taking her with him. He brushed his hands over her shoulders, pulling it away in shock when his hand came away slick with blood.

“Y/N, you’re bleeding. Y-You’re hurt.”

Now he was looking at her intently. She had a large gash across her temple, blood spilling down the side of her face and staining the collar of the scrubs she still wore. She was very pale, and he could see the bruised outline of fingers around her throat.

“What happened? Who did this to you?”

She clutched at him, burying her face in his neck. “It was that woman…that horrible woman. Regina.”

Jefferson went rigid at the name. In an instant, the carnal instinct that had been driven by her blood vanished, replaced with fear and guilt. This was all his fault, he knew it. But there would be time for the guilt and the questions later—right now, she needed help.

“You’re safe now Y/N, she can’t hurt you.” He brushed the hair back from her eyes, cupping her cheek. “You need a doctor, I need to get you to a hospital. You—”

“No! No hospitals.” Y/N looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Jefferson I lied, I covered it up…if we go to a hospital they’ll ask questions… she’ll know I lied.”

Jefferson’s heart sank. He had the feeling that this woman had done a lot more for him than just give him a bit of her blood. He had to do something. She was still bleeding heavily, and she probably had a concussion.

He nodded. “All right, no hospitals. You still need help though—come with me, my house isn’t far.”

He helped her to stand, noticing that she was favoring her left leg. At least she seemed to have calmed down somewhat. The temperature had dropped, and his jaw clenched when he saw she was shivering.

“Here—it’s freezing out, you’ll catch your death of cold.” He took off his topcoat, wrapped it around her shoulders, and she snuggled into its warmth. Jefferson didn’t mind—he didn’t feel the cold anyway.

After a few steps, he saw how badly she was limping, the pain and shock starting to wear in. Without a word he scooped her up in his arms, cradling her against his chest. She protested feebly, but quickly relaxed into his embrace.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. You’re safe now,” he whispered.

#jefferson hatter x reader #vampire #vampire jefferson #x reader #jefferson x reader #ouat

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 2 years

Text

Until the Stars Are All Alight–Chapter 21: Lament for the Fallen

Hello, and welcome to my entry for the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 2019! This au combines two story ideas I’ve wanted to explore for a while. 1. What if CS existed in a Tolkien-esque, LOTR world? 2. What would have happened if it was Killian rather than Neal that Emma ran into when she was stealing the bug? Huge thank you to my beta, @blackwidownat2814, to @clockadile for the amazing story and chapter art, to @kmomof4 and @cssnsfor putting this event together, and to the ladies in the CSSNS chat who have helped me think through this story. If all goes well, I should be posting every Tuesday, and the story will have approximately 18 chapters plus the prologue and epilogue.

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Summary: CS Lord of the Rings au: When Emma Swan steals a yellow Volkswagen Beetle, she has no idea it will lead her toward an adventure filled with danger and intrigue, sacrifice and a love stronger than anything she could imagine. Tasked with bringing the Savior home, the elf, Killian Jones of Misthaven travels to the Land Without Magic. Can he convince Emma to fulfill her destiny before the Dark One regains power and takes over all of the Enchanted Forest?

Rating: T

Word Count: 2094

Other Chapters: (prologue) (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (22) (epilogue)

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Chapter 21: Lament for the Fallen

“Emma!’ Killian screamed, the sound as raw and primal an expression of grief as anything Regina had ever heard.

Regina wasn’t accustomed to feeling pity for others–to be truthful, she’d felt no empathy at all before she’d met Robin and Roland–but one would have to be made of stone not to ache for the heart-rending, soul-crushing agony Killian displayed as he rushed forward and took his wife’s lifeless body into his arms.

Regina would know. She’d gone through the same thing only yesterday.

With the current crisis at an end and the danger to the kingdom and the entire world at an end, all the grief and pain of Robin’s loss descended on her once again like a heavy, suffocating cloak. Regina turned away, walking toward the far corner of the cavern, both to give Killian privacy in his first moments of grief, and to have privacy in her own.

They’d won, defeated the Dark One and all his darkness once and for all, but what a hollow victory! How did one rejoice when the person closest to them in all the world had been the cost of that victory? How did one rejoice when two little boys would soon learn that they’d lost a parent?

For a moment, Regina let the tears flow unimpeded, a sob escaping despite her best efforts, but now was not the time to succumb to grief. She feared if she truly let herself go, she’d never stop.

No, better to think of something else, anything else to distract herself. She looked around the dark cavern where she stood. Just before Rumplestiltskin had arrived, Emma had been focused on this area, talking to someone–or several someones–that Regina and Killian couldn’t see. What had that been about?

As she continued pondering the question, suddenly she realized that the darkness was lessening. A tiny light pierced through, and as Regina watched, the light grew and grew until it eclipsed all the darkness of the Underworld. Regina found herself standing in a vast white courtyard overflowing with light. To the left and to the right, stretching as far as the eye could see were white, marble Grecian columns.

Regina shaded her eyes, the light so bright it nearly hurt to look at it after the unrelenting darkness of the cavern. Gradually, as her eyes became accustomed to the light, she realized she wasn’t alone in this corner. A man stood before her. He had short, light brown hair and kind eyes, and he was dressed in the garb of a Greek god-long white flowing robe, sandals, protective armor that stretched from his belt to mid-thigh, and vambraces on his arms.

“Well done, Your Majesty!” the man said, his voice lyrical. “You’ve done much to defeat the Dark One.”

Regina glanced aside. “It was the Savior who defeated him, not I.”

The man’s smile increased. “You’ve learned humility, to give credit to others. Good! Good!”

Regina’s eyes narrowed. Who was this man to speak to her of her private faults?

“I am Zeus,” he said, as though he could hear her thoughts, “Chief god of Olympus, and I am here to grant you a boon as a reward for your heroism!

Regina looked to the ground before once again looking at the god. “As I said, I don’t deserve that. I wasn’t the one to defeat Rumplestiltskin. That was Emma Swan.”

“But you were instrumental in helping,” Zeus said, “and you did so despite great personal sacrifice, and for that you deserve your reward. Never fear; Emma, Killian and all the rest will also receive what’s owed to them in due time.”

“What reward do you wish to give me?” Regina asked.

Rather than answer, Zeus stepped to the side, revealing another man standing behind him. Was that–? It couldn’t be!

“Robin?” Regina whispered as the tears prickled again at her eyes.

“In the flesh, my love,” Robin said, gentle smile in place.

With a sob, Regina launched herself into his arms, crying, peppering him with kisses. “But how? How? You were dead!”

“Being a god has certain perks,” Zeus smirked. “I very much wish to restore your husband to you, Regina.”

“Thank you!” Regina sobbed, feeling how very inadequate the sentiment was.

Zeus suddenly grew grave. “I’m afraid a boon such as this does not come without its costs.”

It was as though a bucket of cold water descended on her. Regina took a deep breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“A god I may be, but there are certain laws of nature even I may not break. Once the afterlife has claimed a life, a life must remain,” Zeus said. “And so, that is the price you must pay to have Robin returned to you. A life for a life. For Robin to go free, Regina, you must consign someone else to take his place.”

Regina’s heart plummeted. She must kill someone–or at least offer them up to Zeus–to free Robin? What kind of a choice was that? In her previous life, she wouldn’t have hesitated for a second. She’d have put her happiness ahead of another’s every time, but now…now, she’d worked so hard to live a better life, to redeem herself, and she knew taking a life for her own desires was utterly antithetical to that. What was she to do?

And suddenly it hit her. She knew precisely what must be done.

“Very well,” Regina said with a determined nod, “take me instead.”

“No!” Robin shouted. “Regina, you can’t do this! You can’t give up your life for mine!”

“Why not?” she asked, a touch of snark in her voice, “You did it for me.”

Robin looked as though he wanted to argue further, but Regina stopped him with a raised hand. “Robin, Roland needs his father,” she said, “and I…I need to atone for all the evil I did before I met you. I need to atone for the countless innocent lives I took.”

“But Regina–” he began again.

“Please, let me do this,” she said quietly.

After another moment of reluctance, Robin nodded.

With a deep breath, Regina turned back toward Zeus. “Take me and let Robin go free.”

Zeus’s smile seemed to light up the entire cavern even further. Taking her hand, he placed it in Robin’s.

“I…I don’t understand,” Regina stammered.

“It was a test,” Zeus said simply, “a test to determine whether you are worthy; whether or not you have truly redeemed yourself, and you, Regina, passed with flying colors.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, my dear,” he continued, “that because you made the selfless choice, offering to sacrifice yourself for the man you love and to atone for your previous misdeeds, you have saved the both of you.”

“Truly?” Regina asked, the joy and relief bubbling over.

“Truly,” Zeus confirmed. “You are both free to leave this place, your lives restored. You may thank me by living a good, long life happily ever after.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

The second Killian's restraints vanished, he sprinted to Emma, gathering her in his arms and prayed to anyone and everyone he could think of that his wife, the other half of his very soul, was still alive.

He knew it was a useless prayer.

Her last words to him had been too final, too agonized. Somehow she had known the price of destroying the Dark One was her life.

Killian bent down, looking for any signs of life, but he found none. Her heart was still, her breathing non-existent. He'd lost her and there wasn't a bloody thing he could do to change that.

For a moment, he let the rage consume him--rage, after all, was easier than the yawning pit of agony that he knew would show up all too soon. Killian shouted into the abyss, hating the Dark One with every fiber of his being, cursing him, hurling every invective he could think of at the vile man. Death by fire was entirely too good for him. Killian wished the Dark One were still alive so he could torture him slowly. For days.

But he wasn't still alive. He was gone too, just like Emma.

As the finality of it all hit him, Killian collapsed, hugging Emma to him and sobbing. It would be better if he were dead too. Burning in that lake of fire would hurt less than the prospect of an eternity without Emma. What the blazes good was immortality if it consisted of nothing but endless years of misery, ripped far too soon from his very heart?

It felt like an earthquake, the violence of his first moments of grief.

Beside him the ground shook and suddenly a crevice began to open.

It was a real earthquake then? So be it. He'd let the earth swallow him whole, and then maybe he'd be reunited with Swan.

Killian felt someone tugging his arm.

"Jones, we've got to go!" Regina yelled above the steadily increasing noise of the Underworld imploding around them.

He shrugged her off, but then her hand was replaced by another.

"Come on Mate, it's not safe here!"

Killian spun around, surprised at the sight that met him. Robin Hood, corporeal and very much alive.

"Robin?" He asked, "How the bloody hell are you here? You’re dead."

"Aye, well," Robin said with a shrug, "It turns out that was rather a temporary state for me. We can discuss particulars later. Now we must move!"

As with Regina, Killian shrugged off Robin's hand. "You go," he said. "I've no longer any wish to live."

Regina cursed, muttering something that looked like "idiot," but Robin stepped in front of her, crouching so he was eye level with Killian.

"Believe me, mate, I know what you're feeling right now, " he said. "I lost my first wife, remember? But this isn't the answer! Emma wouldn't want you to die here with her."

"We'll never know what Emma would have wanted, will we?" Killian shot back.

"Maybe not," Robin said, stepping aside as a rock fell from the ceiling, dislodged by the quake, "but I do know one thing. Henry needs his father. He's already lost his mother today; don't let him become an orphan."

The mention of his little son's name finally pulled Killian from his despair. Robin was right. No matter how much it might hurt, he had to go back. His child needed him, now more than ever.

Killian got to his feet before stooping down and picking up Emma's lifeless body.

"Very well," he said, “Let's get out of here before we're buried alive."

The trio ran for their lives, reaching the mouth of the cave only moments before the ground where they’d been standing crumbled and fell into the lake of fire.

*~*~*~*~*~*~

Misthaven

David waited anxiously for any sign, any indication of how they were faring in the Underworld.

Reports had been reaching him periodically, first the battle with Arendelle, and Robin's subsequent passing. Following close on its heels news of the battle with the Dark One himself.

Heavy casualties had been sustained in that battle, as Charming learned first hand when Captain Liam Jones was brought in, so badly injured upon first glance he appeared dead.

Liam had been taken promptly to the houses of healing, and while it was still rather touch and go, reports from Johanna were that he was stabilizing and his chances of recovery were increasing by the moment.

David was grateful for that, but he wouldn't feel truly easy until Emma and Killian completed their mission and returned home.

"This waiting is interminable," Snow said, stepping up next to him in the courtyard where he stood, snaking an arm around his waist and laying her head on his shoulder.

David nodded, taking her into his arms. For a moment, they merely stood, taking comfort in each other.

"I wish it had been me," Snow said after a moment. "I wish I had been the one who had to go to the pits of the Underworld, not Emma; not my baby."

"Sometimes I wonder if the plight of those left behind is even worse than that of those going into battle," David said. "Knowing the danger and not being able to do ANYTHING to stop or alleviate it is a special kind of hell all its own."

"Charming," Snow asked in a small voice, "do you think there's any chance she'll succeed? That she'll make it back to us."

David drew in a quick breath and then let it out slowly. "I have to believe that she will. I have to have hope."

He'd barely finished speaking before they were both blasted back as a sudden Shockwave passed over them.

"What in the gods' name was that?!" Snow asked.

"I don't know," David said, already striding out of their sitting room door, "but I intend to find out."

As it happened, it was only minutes before the news reached them, brought by a bird straight to Snow White herself.

When Snow heard the news, she collapsed onto her throne on the dais, hand coming to cover her face.

"Well?" Grumpy asked, for all the kingdom had assembled in the Great Hall upon feeling the surge, "What news?"

"The best," Snow raised her head, a beatific smile gracing her face despite the tears. "She's done it! Emma's defeated the Dark One and all his darkness. We're free!"

The cheer that went up from the assembled crowd was nearly deafening, everyone soon departing to share the news with family and friends. Plans began forming for a celebratory feast that would last for days.

When they were left alone again, David turned to Snow, "And what of Emma? How did she fare."

A troubled look crossed Snow’s face as she gently shook her head. "I don't know. The birds had no knowledge of that. It appears we'll have to wait yet a while longer before our fears are assuaged."

As it happened, they didn't have to wait long. Within a quarter hour, David noticed that the sounds of revelry outside in the courtyard stuttered and then came to a halt. Shooting Snow a concerned look, David took her hand and hurried to see what had put a damper on the celebration.

The crowd of misthaven residents parted to reveal a very somber Regina and Robin, and behind them stood Killian, tears streaming down his face.

Emma's lifeless form was cradled to his chest.

Beside David, Snow fainted dead away, falling into his arms.

Notes:

–Sorry? Look, I know I promised to make things better, and I will! Just not quite yet. (Although I do get some points for bringing Robin back, right?) Defeating the Dark One was a big deal and required a big price. That price can’t be paid too early or too easily, right? If it did, the final payoff wouldn’t truly feel earned.

–Speaking of prices being paid–I do like Regina, but I felt like her redemption in canon was a bit lacking, so I wanted to remedy that here. She turned to the dark side when she lost her first love. What better way to demonstrate redemption than to choose the right path–at great personal cost–after losing her second?

–Some nods here to both OUAT season 5 where Zeus sent Killian back and to nearly the end of Harry Potter where Hagrid carries Harry back after Voldemort “killed” him. Both were intended.

–Up next: The last chapter before the epilogue! I think you will be far happier at the end of the next chapter than you are right now. Next chapter will bring more nods to Harry Potter as well as a scene I really wish had happened in canon.

–On the upside, you won’t have to wait long. At all. Chapter 22 is written and betaed. I anticipate posting it within a few days!

NEXT CHAPTER -->

#cssns #captain swan supernatural summer 2019 #lotr/cs au #my fanfiction #until the stars are all alight

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cosette141 · 2 years

Text

Dreamshade (OUAT fanfic) | Chapter 3

Fandom: Once Upon A Time

Author: cosette141

Words: 2k (this chapter) | 6k+ (total so far)

Summary: (s3A, "Good Form" canon divergence) Instead of David getting hit with the poisoned arrow, it's Hook. Now it's up to David to get Hook to Dead Man's Peak before Dreamshade takes Hook's life, and maybe learn, perhaps too late, that Hook is far more than just a pirate. h/c Captain Charming

AO3

Chapter 3 (under the cut!)

"You want to keep wasting time or do you want to live to see morning?"

Hook felt shock wash through him.

What he deserved was to die a painful death, alone and unloved.

What he wanted was to live to see the day he wins Emma Swan's heart.

No one has cared to save him in centuries.

No one has cared about him in centuries.

And if he were to put his faith in anyone, it would be the family that had defeated Cora, changed the Evil Queen (more or less), and saved their town from a seemingly-impossible-to-stop destruction.

He has yet to see any of them fail at anything.

Perhaps they could find a way to save his life, beyond the Neverland spring water.

But the one thing he'd never thought possible was David, Emma's bloody father looking at him with something other than contempt.

"Can you stand?"

Hook shook himself a little, refocusing his vision. He had just managed to catch his breath; his jaw was killing him—and that was the second time the prince had struck him this week—and he'd very nearly passed out.

Bloody gods, he was so weak.

The poison was hours away from his heart, and hell he was feeling it.

"Aye," breathed Hook, but was shocked once again when David's expression furrowed with something Hook would almost call concerned.

Swallowing, Hook allowed the man to pull him to his feet. Hook shut his eyes as his sense of gravity tilted, and he used his hook to catch himself on the tree. He blinked his eyes open as it settled, finding that crease in David's brows deepen.

"Come on," he said, "we should tell the girls."

Hook felt his chest clench.

David started back toward the camp, and Hook took a heavy breath, and followed, his hand twisted in the material of his shirt. The poison burned under his skin, making him all too bloody aware of how close he was to his end.

But he forced himself to keep up with David's pace, his heart beating faster.

Once back at the camp, Hook took another breath to steady himself, and released his vest, straightening as much as he could.

"Where's the vine?"

Hook felt his chest hurt at the sound of Emma's voice, walking into view of them. Emma and Snow White had stopped working at the sight of David empty-handed, and Regina even gave them a lift of her brow.

"Uh," began David, with half a look to Hook. "About that… Hook is—"

"—I think there's something we can use to read Baelfire's starmap," said Hook, cutting off David, ignoring the sharp rise of David's brows.

"Hook—" began David with surprise.

Hook shot him a look, then continued, pulling out the torn scrap of material from Liam's satchel—the only part of Liam he kept with him—with shaking fingers. "David and I found this; it's from my brother's—" Sharp pain in his chest. "My… Captain's satchel," he amended quickly, blaming the poison for loosening his tongue, "from the first time I set foot on Neverland," he found himself whispering. "I'd thought it was gone forever. But Pan had stolen many things from those who wander here," he said, shutting his eyes for half a second, trying his best to not sway. He opened his eyes, meeting theirs, Emma's, saying, "If this survived, I believe his sextant did as well. We can use it to decode the map."

David was staring at him with an incredulous look on his face.

But Hook met his eyes, and David held the gaze for a long moment, before saying to the others, "Hook… said it's a few hours' trek from here. I say he and I check it out while you three get in touch with Henry."

Emma and Snow stood.

"You want to split up?" asked Snow softly.

With another look to Hook, who wished he was closer to a tree he could use to steady himself, David said, "It's our best shot."

Snow bit her lip, then nodded. "Okay."

David pulled his wife to himself, kissing her and Hook felt himself look at Emma, who was already looking at him. "You and David on a trip?" she said with half a laugh. "One of you might not make it back."

And Hook swallowed, his chest hurting, because that was more than a possibility, and why she mustn't know the truth of the trip.

"Be safe while I'm gone." he whispered, eyes burning into hers.

Because even if he doesn't make it back…

She must.

Emma seemed a little taken aback by the heaviness in his voice, and she swallowed. "Always am," she said just as quietly.

And his eyes lingered on hers, wanting to say it, needing to say it.

But he can't be another man to love and leave her.

So he feigned a smile, something holding every ounce of his brokenness, the little strength he had left, and he forced himself to walk away, feeling David follow behind.

-.-.-.-.

"What the hell was that?" demanded David the minute they were out of earshot of the rest.

Hook let out a breath, staggering ahead of David, and David felt himself hovering close. The man looked like he was about to collapse. "What?" managed the pirate weakly. All the bravado that he'd shown in front of the girls vanished in a second, and David felt something he never thought he'd feel for a pirate, let alone Hook.

Pity.

"The lying out of your ass," clarified David, matching Hook's slow and uneven pace. "Why the hell did you do that?"

Hook swallowed, stumbling and catching himself on the trunk of a tree before pressing on. He shut his eyes briefly. "Because I'm not entirely sure I'll make this trip," he admitted quietly. At David's confusion, Hook said, "The arrow was meant for Emma." David felt his chest tighten at the reminder that it was almost Emma stumbling beside him, dying before his very eyes. "She'll blame herself." Even quieter, something horribly sad in his voice, he said, "And that is a curse I'll not leave her with."

David hesitated for a moment, at the sheer weight of the words.

Those words sounded heavier somehow.

Experienced.

David felt his mind click pieces into place.

"David and I found this; it's from my brother's—my… Captain's satchel, the first time I set foot on Neverland."

"The spring there… Its water has the properties to heal any ailment. I once used it to heal my br—one of my crew from Dreamshade."

"Since its power comes from the island, it only works in Neverland. If I were to leave Neverland, I'd die."

"It was your brother," said David softly, and he saw Hook stiffen to a stop. "Wasn't it?"

Hook went deathly still.

"You lost him to Dreamshade… didn't you?" said David, stopping beside him.

And he felt himself freeze at the look on Hook's face.

It was just…

Pain.

Hook shook himself a little, pressing on, only saying, "It's not far now."

David felt himself follow numbly.

Because he's never quite seen that kind of pain before.

"She'll blame herself. And that's a curse I'll not leave her with."

Whatever exactly happened to his brother… Hook blamed himself for his death.

Taking blame for anything wasn't exactly the action of a pirate.

And it was becoming more and more like Hook's actions weren't that of a pirate.

Ever since he was a boy, David had grown up with the knowledge—the simple fact—that pirates were selfish scum. Hurting innocents, taking what they wanted when they wanted it.

And the reputation of Captain Hook had spread across the realm. He was not only no exception to David's view on pirates; he was the worst of them all.

David hadn't ever given thought to thieves or pirates beyond that simple fact that they were bad and he was good.

But with the knowledge that Emma had been a thief at some point, stealing from innocent people, and Snow hadn't exactly only stolen from the rich as a bandit.

It was only now that David realized that maybe Hook wasn't the same as people like Rumplestiltskin. Rumplestiltskin hurt people for the glee of it, for the sport. He'd chased off his only son and chose not to make up for it when he had the chance.

But what David knew of Hook's life was that he was one of the most feared pirates in the realm, and that he was on a suicidal quest to kill the man who'd killed the love of his life.

For the first time, David felt himself realize that Hook had given up the tirade.

Sure, he was here for Emma, not out of general nobility, but…

Pirates don't care about anyone but themselves.

And pirates definitely don't go to the lengths Hook has for a good time with a woman.

In fact, Hook had gone after his revenge solely for the woman he'd lost.

As much as David hated admitting it, he might have been slightly… wrong, about pirates.

And certainly about Hook.

His innuendos and flirting with Emma and Snow aside—though David had noticed the flirting has shifted fully and solely to Emma recently—Hook has put forth more of an effort to change than Rumplestiltskin and Regina combined.

Rumplestiltskin was here out of obligation to his son.

Regina was here because she needed Henry in her life, not solely because Henry needed her.

And Hook was here, David had thought, because he wanted Emma for himself.

But to sacrifice his life for her?

"Be safe while I'm gone."

David had heard the words, and every emotion behind them.

Hook had changed, and David had been too stubborn to change his own mind about him.

Hook stumbled again before him, letting out a groan, catching himself on a tree, taking yet another break in their trek.

David held back, feeling guilt and fear for the man creep up his spine.

They'd given Regina and even Rumplestiltskin a chance to change, and neither have exactly taken it.

Hook had.

And David suddenly found himself wanting to see the man he became on the other side.

He just hoped, as he watched Hook stumble once again, that they would both be able to.

-.-.-.

tag list: @kmomof4 @jrob64 @justanother-unluckysoul @klynn-stormz @stahlop @ilovemesomekillianjones @hookmecaptain @tiganasummertree @jadehowlettthewolf @jonesfandomfanatic @anmylica @pirateprincessofpizza @stahlop @snowbellewells @eddisfargo @motherkatereloyshipper @killian-whump @cocohook38 @deckerstarblanche

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abbatoirablaze · 10 months

Text

SDAU, The Right Stuff, Chapter 3

Word Count: 832

“If I wanted some whiny omega on my ass all the time, I would have just gone with Peter,” she huffed, glaring at the omega wolf, “he may be a fox, but at least he’s my mate. God, I can’t even stand your scent right now. You’re starting to spill over with your scent patches. I think you need to start getting the shots.”

Lance felt his heart ache as his girlfriend became even more vicious, going for the jugular, “Regina, I just asked if you could co-“

“I don’t care!” she finally spat out, cutting him off, “I don’t care about you playing on the rings and spinning on things, Lance. I have way more important things to do with my time than watch you acting like a toddler on a jungle gym.”

“I just asked if you could come support me at one-“

“Aren’t your brothers coming?” she asked, hands on her hips, “why aren’t they enough for you? Why do I have to be there too?”

“Babe…it’s an Olympic scaled competition to determine who’s on the team!” he said proudly, trying to push through his own sadness “I want my girlfriend, my alpha there cheering me on…ar-aren’t you proud of me?”

“Whoop-de-doo Lance, you can swing on bars and look great doing it,” she said sarcastically. She huffed and threw her hands up when he didn’t let go of it, “I’m done talking about it, Lance…take your pants off. I had a stressful day, and I need you…be a good omega and take care of your alpha! Come on!”

“What about me?”

“We’re going to have sex,” she pointed out, rolling her eyes, “obviously you’re benefitting from it too! Now come on. Chop chop. Pants off. Lance…get undressed.”

“No.”

She raised her brow, “What?”

“N-no. I don’t want to just take my pants off and have sex,” he growled, finally breaking, “that’s not how we solve problems! Th-that’s not how I want to solve our problems. I don’t want to just have sex and act like it never happened. This isn’t okay!”

“YES IT IS!” she all but yelled at him. Lance shrank back ever so slightly, and she took a few steps forward, “Look, I know that you’re a little emotional because it’s right before your heat and you need that little extra encouragement, but I don’t have the energy for it. So, sucking up to your frat brothers will have to do. I have real stress that I need to get rid of. And as my omega, I would think you could understand that. Now…PANTS OFF, LANCE!”

Lance felt his chest tighten as he stood stock still. His jaw went rigid as he tried to hold himself in the same spot instead of obeying the rigid alpha command. He started to feel pressure in the pit of his stomach. She raised her brow, “you really think you can hold out for long, Lance? I know how quick you cave with me…it’ll only hurt the longer you try to fight it off. I gave you an alpha command. NOW TAKE THEM OFF!”

Lance tried to fight the command, but his hindbrain was quickly taking over.

“I-I don’t want to!” he whimpered as his arms reached for his track pants, sliding them down his muscular, toned thighs. He felt the tears building in his eyes, “Regina-“

“Good boy,” she smiled, cutting him off and ignoring is own pain. She took her top off and started slipping out of her skirt, “now get on the bed, take off your shirt, and start stroking yourself. You need to be hard, Lance!”

“Regina-“

“SHUT UP!”

His lips quickly snapped together, and his body surged towards the bed. A whimper escaped his throat as he all but ripped his shirt off in a mechanical fashion. But just before he could start stroking himself the door to his bedroom slammed open, and in came Steve, Bucky, and Mini.

Regina immediately covered herself up with her hands, “What the hell are you doing, get out!”

“Lance, stop!” Bucky growled, the alpha command rolling off his lips. Mini stalked right up to Regina and decked her. The wolf whimpered, falling to the floor.

“We heard you alpha commanding him!” she commented angrily, not moving her eyes from the wolf on the floor, “Lance, are you okay?”

He nodded, a small tear slipping down his cheeks. Steve ran up to the junior, “Come on, man…let’s get you out of he-“

“Where do you think you’re going with my omega?”

Mini growled at her, the panther becoming even more protective of Lance after her omega touched him and herded him out of his bedroom towards Steve’s.

“You should leave…before I call the authorities for alpha commanding and attempting to rape an omega!” she spat.

“He’s my boyfriend!” she said quickly, as though that would make it any better.

“Not anymore!” Bucky growled, his own protectiveness over Steve’s friend coming in to play, “get out, Regina…and don’t come back.”

Tag List: @buckybarnes72, @lohnes16

#school days au #sdau #college #a/b/o fic #a/b/o #a/b/o fanfic #the right stuff #the bronze #soft lance tucker #lance tucker #omega lance tucker

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treatian · 11 months

Text

The Chronicles of the Dark One: The Delicacies of Time

Chapter 1: Confusion

Now he was in hell.

We are in hell.

Who are we?

Hell.

The Underworld.

The Underworld was no hell compared to this.

To this.

I didn't think you had it in you!

Of course, it was in him. He'd do anything for me.

You've got your son, but you've lost yourself.

Lost. Where was he?

Where were they?

It was cold!

Papa?

Rumple.

Rumple him. Rumple something. Rumpled clothes, rumpled paper. Rumple…Rumple, bumple, bumble. Bumbling. Bumble bee.

Rumple.

No! No room! No more voice! No room! No room for more!

No room for Rumple. No room!

Kill her!

No!

Kill who?

Who her? Who him?

Refuse!

Heat and cold. Blurry. Screams.

Cage.

Cage with bars.

Heat. Wool. Spin.

Familiar.

Regret and guilt. Family.

Spinning familiar. Easy. No thoughts, no harm.

Spin.

Plans on plans on waffles.

The lady from Oz. The green girl. Green like the emerald. Green for jealousy. Jealousy of all.

Dorothy and Glinda and Regina, oh my.

Fire in the grate. Oatmeal for food. Straw into gold.

Gold. He was gold once. Or was he golden now?

Before.

Golden.

Spin.

Toil.

Work.

Clearing.

Spin. Toil. Work.

It was the only thing he knew. It was the only thing that helped him to know.

Helps us to know.

His mind was watery chaos. It was the sea in a storm he was constantly trying to swim through, continually trying to fight against the waves, to come up for air to come into clarity!

Spin.

Toil.

Work.

It helped.

It helps.

It was rigorous. It was religious. It was routine.

Routines help.

It helped to distract him from the voice.

There was a presence in his head, under his very skin that didn't belong, like an infection that burned through him.

But he couldn't get rid of it. He wouldn't. Couldn't allow it.

Allow it!

It was worse than the Dark Ones who he'd long since become accustomed to, worse than the Seer had ever been, and far more constant. It was like living in that state between vision and reality without a break.

The voice in his head was that of his son.

He was screaming. And he was talking. He was struggling, fighting against him as they both fought for air and breath.

Pain! It hurts! It always hurts!

There were words. But the words weren't always his. And there were memories. But they weren't always his.

The face of Peter Pan and running from the boys in Neverland.

His? Was that his memory? Or Bae's? Rumpelstiltskin.

A cave somehow decorated with the night sky. Something about a coconut.

To whom did that memory belong?

Running his hand over the bare calf of a woman. Belle? His own?

A foster family, the worst one yet. And then an open window, a crawl into the night, and a mad dash to be as far away as possible.

Certainly not his memory. Baelfire then.

Dinner with Belle in the hovel.

He remembered Belle? Had he taken her to the hovel?

I did. Had to. You weren't there. Was I there?

Him? Who was him?

Rumple Bumple isn't here. Rumple Bumple gone, my dear!

A cauldron, Jefferson's voice in the background, a hat he hoped he possessed again, something about fixing the past.

He really is back from the dead!

Dead…

He was almost sure that was him.

Dead.

Tallahassee.

Him? Or Bae? Mr. Gold?

Too hard to tell.

So much better dead.

He's lost his mind.

Lost.

Not lost.

On the contrary. Now I have two. Two minds.

Mining Time.

Digging deeper in the grime.

A portal, something's in front.

Sometimes behind.

Always pushing.

Always pulling.

A firm grip on his father's hand.

On the hand of his son and one on the dagger, a memento like a lyre.

Like a curse.

And then.

Emptiness.

Nothing.

Ruin.

Pain.

Torment.

Hurt.

Regret.

Why?!

Drowning!

Spin.

Toil.

Work.

It helped.

Round and round the circle of time.

It was the only thing he knew. It was the only thing that helped him to know, to ground him in his watery chaos.

Racing towards the finish line.

It was a sea in a storm he was constantly trying to swim against, continually trying to fight against the waves to come up for-

"Hey…"

Air into…

"Hey…"

Clarity…

"Hey, hey, hey…"

A hand in his. Familiar eyes. He knew that hair. He'd seen that hair a million times. He wanted to marry that hair.

Trust.

Love. He loved her.

Trust her.

Not her hair. He trusted her.

So do I.

So did Bae.

"I know you're in there…I know you can hear me," she pressed, her grip on him tightening; it was grounding buoyant all at once. It lifted him above the waves into consciousness much better than wool and string.

Hear us both.

"How do we stop Zelena?"

Zelena.

Menace.

Captor.

Big mouth. Always talking, always ranting and monologuing. Worse than my Dad.

His once and former protégé.

She wants to change it. She wants to go back; she's said it a million times, she's asked a million times. We have to keep refusing!

The past couldn't be changed, couldn't be visited.

That's not going to stop her from trying.

She'd tear the world apart. Tear his world apart.

Our world.

How to stop her…

How to be free…

Light.

"Wh-what?" Belle questioned.

Dark Magic can only be stopped by…

"Light Magic."

The Emerald! It has magic; we can feel it!

We don't know that's the key.

But there's someone who can confirm.

The girl! The one she keeps talking about, the one who nearly had her beat before!

If not us, then-

Them.

"The Good Witch of the South…Glinda."

"Glinda?" Belle confirmed. She spoke the name like it rang a bell.

That's our Belle.

That was his Belle. She could free them both.

If anyone can fix it, she can.

The Wicked Witch of the West. Defeat her and-

She can free us. Get me back to my son.

Get him back to his son.

"South of…what? Oz?"

"No!"

Once but no more. Fucking Wicked Witch.

Fucking Wicked Witch.

"Banished! Here! The Good Witch of the South was banished North."

North of the Dark Forest! That's what she said!

North of the Dark Forest.

Wasn't that what she said last week?

Last week or last month?

How long? The monkey! New York! Where are we? Where am I? Emma?! Henry?! Belle?! I have to warn them!

Glinda.

Once of the South. Now of the North. Now through a door.

A door?

Through the door, step inside, if pure of heart, then she won't hide.

She won't hide.

She can't hide. That's what the witch said.

Last week or last month?

How long?

More than we had before. We should go before the witch returns.

Before Zelena comes back. Trap! Belle!

Belle.

"Belle!"

Rumple!

Belle.

"My Rumple!"

Air.

Clarity.

He looked into her smile, and it was all clear. Orpheus and Eurydice. The clearing. Hell. Zelena and all the plans that she'd been making in front of him. Plans he and Neal were too incapacitated to do anything about. He wanted to help. But he wasn't sure if the words that came out of his mouth next would be his own, he wasn't sure if it would help her hurt.

She was on to something. She'd taken something from the ramblings. If any of them were smart enough to figure out how to save Bae and free them from this prison, it was her. She just needed time. That was ironic for some reason.

But she was sad. So sad. He could see it as she lifted her hands to her neck and removed the pearl necklace he'd seen her wear dozens of times in his life. Then her hand was on his again. Pulling it towards her. Pulling it upright.

"Take this," she insisted, putting it into his hand. "I'll be back for you, always."

When two people both have something the other wants…

…A deal can always be struck.

She'll be back. I trust her.

She'd be back. He trusted her.

"I love you. And this doesn't change that. I'm with you forever. I always keep my word."

She always did.

She always does.

Sealed with a kiss. With a dream. With a ring. Seal it!

There was something in his hand. Something hard and straight. Something gold and gleaming. It was all he had, and yet nothing next to what he could do. And still…

"Deal," he managed as she took it from him. He could see she was close to tears. He wanted to wipe them away. He wanted to get down on bended knee and propose. He wanted to marry her.

I approve! She's the best decision you ever made!

Worst decision he could ever make...

But then she was gone, in the hands of another.

Another piece of himself gone.

Spin.

Toil.

Work.

It made it better.

Makes what better?

He didn't know.

#rumbelle #rumpelstiltskin #rumple #ouat #fanfic #dark one #ouat fanfiction #belle #mr. gold #baelfire #Zelena #wicked witch of the west

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swanqueensalad · 2 years

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salad your reblogs are making me so sad. how do you think regina talks with emma and henry about daniel? since he’s such an important part of her life and i’m sure she still loves him a lot. (and i love the way you’re handling the topic in after the end even though i need to catch up on the last few chapters)

awww man

here's something i could cry about for hours

i think it's clear regina doesn't really talk about daniel. it's very difficult for her, but he very much lives in her heart and her memory and i 100% agree, she still has this infinite source of love for him

i also do think it's interesting that emma is one of the very few people in canon that regina has actually spoken about daniel to - in fact she's the only person who wasn't there/involved (like snow and cora) that she can speak about him to. having emma witness his death through her memory in the dream catcher was huge (and there's that amazing deleted scene from 5b where emma gently suggests regina go and find daniel's grave)

it just goes to show how regina truly trusts emma with every bit of her heart and her hurt

so emma has always been aware of what happened and very respectful of that, and the subject only comes up when necessary/at regina's control

once emma and regina are finally together and more settled, regina feels safe and happy enough in their quiet moments at home to more casually bring him up in a more positive light - when horse riding comes up or something else that reminds her of him - and it's a little easier, if bittersweet

i think henry is very curious about this man who gave him his middle name and started his mom's journey, but again he wouldn't ask unless regina brought it up because he knows it's still painful.

one night the three of them are having a cosy family night, maybe playing games or watching movies together, maybe emma and regina have had a glass of wine, and daniel comes up somehow and henry asks what he was like. and regina gets talking and tells him - a slightly watered down version - of the whole story.

(henry knows she's softening it a little for his sake and he loves her for that)

emma watches and listens quietly. it hurts her to think of how much pain regina went through when she was young, but she loves hearing her talk about the nice parts. emma has this deep-down respect and love for this boy she never met, for loving regina before she could, for giving her her first taste of joy and freedom. (she is silently grateful to him, and hopes she's making him proud too, carrying on what he started.)

that night, after henry's gone to bed, emma asks if regina's ok and she says she actually is, that it was strangely nice to talk about it. emma promises she will always be there to listen, and confesses that she feels this slight connection to him. (this makes regina tear up, even if she pretends it's just allergies. she cuddles emma pretty tight that night)

he still doesn't come up often, but when he does it's sweet, and henry and emma really appreciate it.

(also thank you bestie! all my feelings about stable queen in canon are kind of being adapted and expressed to a lil extent in after the end, so i'm really glad you're appreciating that!)

#stable queen rly does have a hold of me #why did this make me so emotional lol #just the concept of how it was for them in canon #and it being at the core of regina's character #i just #ouchie #but also regina's true family and true love understanding and accepting this....#thats the good shit #swan queen #swan mills family #regina mills #stable queen #daniel colter #swan queen hcs #swan mills fam hcs #swan queen headcanons

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snowbellewells · 3 years

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Self-Promo Sunday: “Into the Unknown With You”

Another one shot from my assorted collection “Of Swans and Swords and Hopeful Hearts” - this one playing with some of the ideas I would rather have seen in 6x10 and 6x11, it certainly diverges from canon at that point...

Summary: As Emma searches for a way back home from the Wish Realm, help comes from a surprisingly welcome source...

{One more Author’s Note: The “awfully big adventure” bit is a tiny nod to J.M. Barrie’s Peter Pan.}

Can also be found on AO3 or ff.net

“Into the Unknown with You”

by: @snowbellewells

‘No, no, no!’ Emma’s mind reeled horrifically as she stared at the spot where only moments ago the portal had been whirling, her way home to her son and her pirate wide open. She wanted to scream; it couldn’t just be gone, and yet, a second too much hesitation, and the chance was lost. She looked to Regina anxiously, her fists clenched so tightly she felt the impressions her nails cut into her palms. It was all she could do not to rail at Regina, this whole twisted world, and her own bad luck.

‘What now?!?’ she wanted to demand, wanted to shake her former nemesis turned tentative friend, but one glimpse at the other woman’s stunned, disbelieving face staring across the shoreline at her presumed dead True Love, and Emma knew it would be a lost cause. Having stood beside a grave in grateful stupefaction at her own love’s miraculous return to life not so long ago, Emma couldn’t find the heart to remind Regina just yet that she had spent the last day preaching that none of their surroundings or those they encountered in the Wish Realm were real, and hurry her along. She too found herself blinking dazedly at this other – very convincing – version of Robin Hood for a few moments.

Even if her heart was still crying out for her home and her family, for Henry’s soft hair tickling her nose when she placed a kiss to the top of his head, and Killian’s arms enfolding her, she didn’t know where to go in this topsy-turvy version of the homeland she had never actually lived in, and so she had to wait – more impatiently by the minute – until one of these two, either queen or thief, snapped out of their spell and led the way…

As it turned out, Robin Hood was not the sort of outlaw who would truly do harm to two ladies passing through his territory. He wouldn’t have even made to steal their jewels and furs once the same trance that had overcome Regina seemed to strike him mute as well, but Regina offered him a pouch of coins that had been strapped to her waist and a ruby ring, pressing it into his calloused palm with a quirked smile and the assurance that “she insisted, she was much more partial to his cause than he knew”.

Emma wanted to snort at the ridiculous understatement those words were, and she only barely managed to hold back a roll of her eyes, which she sensed the thief saw but let slide with a conspiratorial wink.

Before she could make an argument for trying to catch up to Gold – or Rumplestiltskin here, she supposed – or ask where they were going to find another bean, it was evening, they were entering a forest in the gathering dark, and soon they had been welcomed to sit around a roaring fire with Robin’s motley crew, and even been offered the ale and venison passed around the circle as if they were part of the merry band.

“Now,” the archer began, seated beside Regina, his boy nodding drowsily on his lap. He looked around her to meet Emma’s gaze head on. “You must be thinking that I owe you an apology. Clearly you were about to leave this place, and because of me, you missed your ride.”

She tried to shrug it off nonchalantly, not wanting to get them kicked out in the cold, or to lay blame on him for something he couldn’t have known, but instead, to her own mortification, she felt hot tears stinging in the corners of her eyes. Though her sight grew glassy, Emma refused to let them fall. “So,” she tried for flippant, even if it fell horribly flat, “does that mean you know where we could get a replacement bean and want to help us get it?”

“Actually, Princess Emma,” Robin winked, a knowing sort of mischief in his eye, “I just might.”

~~~OuaT~~~~~CS~~~~~OuaT~~~

The following morning dawned misty and cool, but fair, and Robin greeted Emma at the simmering coals of the previous night’s campfire with a welcoming grin, Regina at his side on the stump they used for a seat, looking as soft and at ease as Emma had ever seen her, her head resting on his strong shoulder seemingly still half asleep. She and Regina had talked at length the night before, and at long last Emma had accepted that Henry’s adoptive mother wasn’t returning with her yet. “I know he isn’t the same Robin, that this whole place is built on a whim, but I’m not losing him again,” she had whispered vehemently. “There has to be another way to get back…one that he could take as well…if he wanted to…” The emotion welling in Regina’s dark eyes had been raw enough that Emma finally consented to go on without further fighting to change her mind, only giving a nod in affirmation when Regina had asked, “You’ll explain to Henry? Tell him I mean to return as soon as we both can?”

“Ready, your Highness?” the sandy-haired outlaw asked, breaking into Emma’s recent memories once more and looking down at her from where he now stood at the ready. “We should make the harbor by noon, if we set out now.”

“The harbor?” Emma asked breathlessly, dazed for a moment by what this could mean. Her heartbeat kicked up in both anticipation and dread. Surely he wasn’t here too…was he?

“Yes,” Robin answered her spoken question with an amiable nod as he kissed the back of Regina’s hand in farewell and turned to head off with Emma on his heels. “I happen to know a pirate with whom I sometimes trade my less than lawfully acquired goods. He might have just the sort of thing you need to return home…”

~~~OuaT~~~~~CS~~~~~OuaT~~~

The sound of gulls crying and wheeling overhead and the creak and groan of the wooden docks as they reached the edge of the shore town and neared the sparkling blue harbor was enough to take Emma’s breath away. Robin took a step forward to lead her down the docks, already offering to make introductions, but Emma stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm.

There before them, as recognizable as always, was the Jolly Roger, bobbing proudly at anchor. Though most might be intimidated by the sight, Emma drew in the first full breath she’d had since remembering herself in this strange realm – as if she had gotten her first real glimpse of home at last. He might still be the vengeful Captain Hook in this reality, but somehow she wasn’t afraid. He would never truly hurt her – and she only wanted to be at his side again without further delay.

Reassuring Robin that she could take it from there, Emma bid him goodbye. Though he looked uncertain, the archer took her at her word and left her with his best wishes. If she clutched his hand a moment longer and a bit tighter than would be normal and bid him be safe a little too fervently – well, she didn’t have to explain herself to anyone here…

At her first step onto the gangplank, a shudder of recognition ran through her, as if the vessel itself was welcoming her back aboard, shivers skittering along her spine. At first glance, the ship seemed deserted, her crew perhaps gathering supplies or unwinding at the nearest tavern, but the air around her wavered, charged suddenly, letting her know she was not alone. Emma felt even before she heard heavy footfalls on the planks or that deep, commanding voice at her back, asking who went there, that she had not gone undetected by the ship’s captain.

Turning, her eyes found him, hungrily drinking in the details; altered, but still without doubt the man she loved. The dark hair was windblown and unruly, practically begging for her fingers to delve into its soft abundance and brush the fringe back off his forehead. Though the strands might be shaggier and generously shot through with grey, it made him no less attractive to her starving eyes. In fact, she only wanted to stare at him all the more, to catalogue every difference, trace the deeper crow’s feet around his eyes and the added lines on his forehead. Those fathomless blue eyes were lined so liberally with the kohl she hadn’t seen him use for some time in their modern Storybrooke life that she almost wanted to chuckle at the effect until she registered the way the blue of his gaze also looked paler – as if washed out by too many tears shed alone and without comfort, or dulled by pain held back because he couldn’t afford to let it show.

Brandishing his moniker, and that dastardly, flirtatious mask he had long since let drop around her, to full effect, Captain Hook stepped well into her personal space. “And who might you be?” he questioned, breath warm on the shell of her ear as he leaned in, hook lifting the heavy rope of her golden braid and tucking it back over her shoulder. It was an achingly familiar gesture and he stood much too close for calm comfort, sending her pulse fluttering again, and yet no recognition lit his gaze as he studied her; the fond devotion she had come to rely on more than she could say was utterly absent, making her heart ache and crack in her chest.

“Princess Emma of Misthaven,” she answered as sturdily as she could, raising her chin and meeting his eye with as much confidence as she could muster. “I had hoped to speak to you on a delicate matter of some importance.”

“A delicate matter, is it?” he asked, his enunciation and the way his tongue caressed his words seductively had not been altered or diminished in the slightest, whatever else had changed. He stood back to his full height, fingers in his waistband, hips thrust forward and looking every bit as sinfully irresistible as he ever did, complete with that wide-open, chest-exposing red vest she had witnessed once in their trip to the past through Zelena’s portal. If she hadn’t known him so well, she might have been fooled by the bravado, but knowing his heart as only a True Love could, she saw the emptiness behind the lascivious look, the pain within the façade – the proper, honorable lieutenant he had been, hating the persona his course had forced him to adopt. Even as he ran his tongue across his lower lip, letting his eyes trace her curves from head to toe almost lewdly, she could see the regret clouding the pupils and the wistful longing – as if he could sense what might have been.

Unable to stop herself, Emma reached forward impulsively, grasping both his hook and hand tightly as she spoke, “Yes, very…but just maybe…I was meant to find you. Maybe you’re the only one who would believe me.”

~~~OuaT~~~~~CS~~~~~OuaT~~~

Another hour found them below deck in his cabin, seated at the scratched, weathered wooden table which had served him in his lonely meals for ages, Emma’s hand still clinging to his hook where it rested on his thigh, but the other reaching up tentatively to trace that faded scar she knew so well beneath his eye. Hook – though more and more her Killian with every passing moment – had scooted closer to her on the roughhewn bench, blinking in awe as she saw hope returning to his face. He appeared both afraid to believe her words, but also desperate for them to be true.

“So you’re telling me that all of this around us – this whole life – is an illusion?” he asked haltingly, not daring to move his eyes from her face, as though he thought she might disappear as quickly as she had come to him.

“Well, yeah, basically,” she tried to explain. “Or more like…it’s a possibility that didn’t actually come true. There’s this v-villain in my home, in the real timeline that I come from, who made a wish that reset things, and I was sucked into it. I have a son, family and friends, a-and another version of you…who’s my True Love…there missing me. And I have to get back to them.”

“There’s another me?” he breathed, and where anyone else would have been skeptical, he looked merely stunned, wanting. “And…we’re…together?”

“Yeah, we are,” she whispered, laying a hand over his rapidly beating heart and drawing comfort from its rhythm. She already felt stronger, more certain, even with this iteration of her pirate. Her watery smile quirked up into a bit of a smirk at one corner, “And don’t worry, he’s still devilishly handsome.”

Her captain’s eyes fell to their joined hand and hook in his lap, huffing out a laugh at her words. “More so than I, I’d wager,” he murmured.

Emma hummed under her breath, reaching out to run her fingers along a grey streak in his longer hair. “I don’t know about that,” she offered. “There’s something pretty appealing about this model, grey hair and all.”

“You flatter me, Milady,” he teased, that voice still a sinful purr rumbling from his chest as he lifted her hand to press a kiss to its back. Still, emotion welled up beneath the flirtation, making his magnetic gaze all the harder for her to escape. She was blinking, nonplussed and floundering for some audible response, when he straightened and pulled her to her feet with him. “Enough lollygagging then! I’ll prepare the old girl to set sail. It’s time we got you back where you belong!”

For a moment, Emma was stunned anew. This full-on piratical version of her True Love, who didn’t really even know her and had no reason to do anything she said, had not only chosen to believe her story, but was going out of his way to help her – just as he had ever since he turned his ship around to take her to Neverland. The lump in her throat was almost too much to speak around, but Emma managed to croak out, “You really would give anything to help me, wouldn’t you?” even as she shook her head in disbelief.

“Aye,” he affirmed, looking a bit like he was marveling at that fact himself. “I am not sure I fully understand, nor can I explain it to you, but I sense that I would – that I am almost compelled – to help you in any world or time you would appear to me.”

“Thank you,” was all she could really say in response, her wondering smile nearly blinding him with its brilliance.

“Come then,” he offered her his arm, his speech all business again, even while the pointed tips of his ear flushed, clearly uncomfortable with the gratitude and praise. “Above deck, and we’ll be off. I know someone who deals in nigh impossible to procure objects.”

~~~OuaT~~~~~CS~~~~~OuaT~~~

Standing beside him at the helm just a few short hours later, wind in her hair and the salt spray on her face, it struck Emma that though she was desperate to get home, to make sure her son, her family, and her Killian were alright, she didn’t want to simply abandon this pirate captain beside her. She didn’t know what would happen to him, if he would find something to live for, something to be part of, or if she was dooming him to his quiet desperation…even if he might simply vanish into nothingness with the rest of this ill-fated wish. She didn’t know what happened next, to be completely honest. Laying a hand on his forearm, she gazed up into his face, swallowing hard. “I don’t know what becomes of you, or this realm, when I leave here and go home,” she admitted. “I’m not sure if you all just go on like it never happened, if you cease to exist, if you wander here aimless forever…I just…I don’t know…”

Covering her hand with his, he guided the ship with no more than his hook rested capably on the wheel. “Worry not, Princess,” was his confident response, fervent resolve painted over his strong, careworn features. “We shall still set things right, as they should be. Whatever comes after this – infinity or oblivion – will be an awfully big adventure.”

Tagging: @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @jennjenn615 @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @thislassishooked @winterbaby89 @darkcolinodonorgasm @hollyethecurious @artistic-writer @stahlop @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @wefoundloveunderthelight @apiratewhopines @lfh1226-linda @xsajx @ineffablecolors @drowned-dreamer @thisonesatellite @kday426 @ultraluckycatnd @xhookswenchx @hookedonapirate @blowmiakisscolin

#self promo sunday #cs canon divergent ff #season 6 divergent one shot #into the unknown with you #wish realm fix-it fic #of a sort?

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wefoundloveunderthelight · 3 years

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Love or Duty by GleefullyCaptainSwan - Chapter 8/8

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @deckerstarblanche

Notes:

Thank you all for your interest in this story, it was really my first time trying to write a story that was not modern. It took a lot of research and not all of it is accurate but it was a lot of fun stretching myself to try this out. Thank you all again for all the comments, flails, and encouragement. You guys are the best.

Chapter 8: Love is Stronger

Emma watched in horror as the King and Queen of Jonesboro fell to the ground, a pool of blood expanding under their motionless bodies. Killian advanced to his mother’s position, glaring up at Regina with a look of murderous anger.

She felt like everything was moving in slow motion as he stood from his spot, his sword out in front of him, a low growl expanding from his throat until he ran full force toward the woman. He was blocked immediately by her guards as his sword clashed against metal. Liam moved beside her, rushing to flank the evil Queen between himself and his brother.

Emma stood frozen to her spot at the front of the room, moving only when she saw her mother pinned between two guards. She knelt on the ground next to a fallen soldier, pulling the blade from the man’s hand. Spinning away from an approaching attack, she raised the blade, hearing the metal clang loudly in her ears as it connected with the man’s sword.

The man seemed surprised, his eyes widening as she narrowed her eyes. “Come now sweetheart, I promise I’ll make it quick for you.” He taunted her.

Emma stepped back on her foot, spinning under his blade, and driving hers through the man’s chest. “Thanks for making it quick.” She glared, kicking her foot against his body to push him off her blade as he fell, lifeless to the ground.

She continued to make her way toward her mother when Regina’s voice boomed louder than the commotion around her, causing Emma to spin around to find her in the crowd.

“How does it feel to be king?” She taunted Liam. “Unfortunately, it will be the shortest reign on record.” She growled, rushing toward him. Liam met her sword with his as they stood inches away from each other, a grimace of anger on Liam’s face. Suddenly she saw movement behind the Queen, dark hair moving through the crowd as he rushed toward the pair with his weapon raised in front of him.

Thinking he had the upper hand he left himself unprotected, something that the Queen immediately took advantage of. As if she sensed his presence, she spun around, the end of her blade slicing into his shoulder.

“Killian.” The words left her mouth in a scrambled scream. She looked toward her mother, seeing her defending her spot valiantly. Emma rushed forward, trying to race to the other side of the room. When she could see Liam in front of her, she watched in horror as strong arms pulled Liam backward, allowing the Queen to focus her full attention on his younger brother.

The path to Killian closed as men flanked her on all sides, evil smiles spread across their faces as they held their weapons in front of them. She lunged forward, fighting off two of the men, but the men behind her were getting closer, the blade narrowly missing her leg as she tried to spin away. She heard a loud clash behind her and turned to see her father’s sword enter the fray. She nodded in his direction as he took care of the men behind her, and Emma turned her attention back to the soldiers at her side.

Dispensing of one of them easily, she began swinging her sword, the feeling of anxious desperation to get to Killian’s side starting to grow in her.

When the man in front of her finally fell, she looked up to see Killian still fighting the Queen in the center of the room, behind them she could see Liam fighting off three other large soldiers. Before she could reach them, Liam burst through the wall of men, backing up against his brother as the two of them held their swords, fighting the crowd around them, while trying to keep the Queen at bay.

For a moment as Emma watched between blades, she thought perhaps they had the upper hand, but then Liam was on his back, a blade at his throat and the Queen had Killian in her grasp, his arm wrenched behind his back, a dagger digging into his side.

She spun him around, showing him off to his brother and Emma felt her heart pounding in her throat.

“Which is gonna hurt more, watching your parents die, or your baby brother?” The Queen taunted Liam, laughing as she threw her head back.

Emma kicked at the man in front of her, bringing the blade down against his neck, pushing past him before his body fell. She heard Killian wail in pain, the dagger drawing blood. Emma lifted her sword, ready to plunge it into the woman’s back. Again, as if the woman sensed the presence behind her, she spun around, holding the dagger to Killian’s throat. “The bride wants to play games.” She said with a roll of her eyes.

The Queen looked to her right as a man pushed Liam to his knees and she locked eyes with Killian. “Go…save your parents.” He grunted at the end when Regina dug the knife into his neck.

“No, I won’t leave you.” She cried out, biting her lip as she tightened the grip on the hilt of her sword. Something flashed in the Queen’s eyes before an ominous laugh escaped her lips.

“Interesting.” She mused and Emma took a step toward the woman.

“You have nowhere to go. You are surrounded, we will destroy you.” Emma threatened only causing the woman to laugh louder.

“Do you think your measly forces are a threat to me? Such a naïve child you are.”

“Emma go! Our people will follow you, even after we are gone. They need you.” Killian grunted, struggling to free himself from Regina’s grasp.

“I need you.” She said through tears as her eyes stayed locked on Killian’s, avoiding turning her gaze toward the man she was supposed to marry. She couldn’t lose Killian; she would not let this woman take the one thing she had waited her entire life to find.

Love.

She didn’t know what overtook her, but a growl from somewhere deep in her belly left her throat as she rushed toward the woman, her sword held high in front of her. Killian pressed an elbow into the woman’s side, bending forward to avoid the blow of Emma’s sword, Regina twitched to the side causing her aim to be off center as the blade plunged into the woman’s side.

Before she could react, she was shoved backward against the ground, the woman yelling orders around her as men rushed toward the door surrounding their Queen in a circle of protection.

She winced in pain as she sat up on her elbows, knowing that tomorrow she would have bruises in places she didn’t dare think of, if she survived today, she thought grimly. Killian was at her side, his fingers in her hair.

“Are you alright?”

She looked up into his blue eyes, a smile returning to her face for a moment. “I think so, are you?”

He reached down, pressing his hand to his side. “Nothing that can’t be fixed, thanks to you.” She was transfixed by his gaze, the way he stared at her as if he were afraid she would disappear in his arms, leaning into the soft feel of his hand against her cheek.

“That’s the second time I’ve saved your life.” She said with a soft smile.

“You’re very good with a sword.” He smirked.

As if suddenly they were both aware of their surroundings, he helped her to stand and they both looked around the room at the men and women scattered about the ground. Emma’s eyes searched desperately for her parents only to have them appear at her side, fussing over each scratch and bruise displaying on her skin.

“I’m fine.” She said, brushing them away as she watched the two brothers standing mournfully over the bodies of their parents. She knew they would both be devastated, though Liam was fully aware of the possibility of one day taking the place of his father, she knew this was not the way he had anticipated it happening.

She leaned into her father’s side as he cradled her head in his hands before Liam and Killian approached. “The guards advised that Regina retreated by way of the East Road, though most of her men have scattered.”

“We need to attack while she is vulnerable, Your Highness.” Her father said with a bow of his head toward Liam.

“I am in agreement, she is injured thanks to your daughter, she will not expect an advance after the destruction she left in her wake.”

“Then we shall continue the ceremony at once.” Her father stated, gesturing to some of the men to collect the priest, Emma’s heart sinking in her chest.

~*~

Killian pressed a palm to his mother’s face, closing her eyes and bending to press a kiss to her forehead before draping the cloth over her body. “She loved you more than me, you know.” Killian glanced toward his brother’s voice, a small smile splaying on his face.

“You know that isn’t true.”

“You were the baby, I reconciled with it long ago.” He chuckled.

“Regina must pay for this.” He said solemnly.

“She will. Today we stand together, you and I. Nothing will stop us from bringing Regina’s reign to an end.”

He clasped a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I will follow you to the end of the earth, my King.”

“You fought valiantly today.”

“We still lost.” He said sadly.

“They would not want us to lose hope.” Liam said softly. “As mother always said, when we are at our darkest, love will bring us to the light.”

Killian turned his eyes toward Emma’s at the other end of the room, her mother fussing over her hair as she looked nervously in his direction.

“It’s you, isn’t it?”

Killian jerked his gaze back to his brother. “What?”

“Before the ceremony, Emma told me that she was in love with another.”

Killian gulped, the guilt tearing at him. “Brother, I swear, I never meant…”

“Do you love her?”

His eyes met hers once again. “With everything that I am.”

~*~

“Mom, please. Stop.”

“It’s just a spot of blood.” Her mother complained, brushing her cheek with the corner of her sleeve. “Emma, I’m so sorry, this is not how your wedding should have gone.”

“I’m not upset about the wedding! His parents are dead?”

“I know.” She said sadly, pausing as she leaned against the wall beside them. “Alice and I were friends when we were younger. I would never have wished this on her. She was a wonderful woman. But Liam has been preparing for this his entire life.”

Emma shook her head, staring at Killian across the room, their eyes meeting for a moment as he spoke with his brother. “Liam will be a good King.”

“And you will be a wonderful Queen, Emma, you were born for this.” Before Emma could respond she was approached by her father.

“We must start the ceremony now.” He announced as Liam and Killian appeared behind him. He turned toward the men. “It’s time, you and Emma must marry now.”

Emma met Liam’s eyes and he smiled at her softly. “I was wrong earlier.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I cannot perform my duty when my heart belongs to another.”

Her father’s face narrowed in anger. “Are you rejecting my daughter?”

Liam smiled at Emma. “I am simply allowing her to meet her own destiny.”

“King Liam, I know this has been a difficult day, but we must unite our kingdoms if you wish to avenge your parent’s death.” Her father tried to reason.

Liam stepped closer to Emma and took her hand. “You and I do not need to marry to unite our Kingdom, Emma, but there can still be a wedding this day, if that is what your heart truly desires.”

“What are you talking about?” Her father interjected, staring between the two of them.

“Liam…I can explain.” She started before he cut her off.

“There is no need to explain. The heart wants what the heart wants.” He looked over her shoulder toward the woman standing behind her, Elsa looked bewildered as he stepped toward her and took her hand.

“This is an outrage.” Her father said angrily. “You reject my daughter for another woman at her own wedding.”

“Father.” Emma said loudly. “Stop.” She turned toward Killian. “I’m sorry I wasn’t brave.”

“Love, you did what you thought you needed to do. I could not judge you for doing your duty, no matter how much it pained me.” Killian stepped toward her.

“I should have chosen you; for it is all that my heart desires.” She heard her mother gasp behind her.

“Then choose me now.” He reached for her hand, pulling her toward him. “I cannot make you Queen of Jonesboro, but I promise that I will always be by your side, and I will love you like no other.”

“Emma, what is the meaning of this?” Her father stepped between them.

“I love Killian, daddy. I do not wish to disappoint you, but I choose him, and together we can still stop Regina, we can still protect our people.”

“Killian will never be King.” Her father stated somberly.

“You taught me about responsibility, about duty and honor, but I don’t need to be the Queen of Jonesboro to unite our people.” She reached over and took Killian’s hand, looking over her shoulder at Liam. “We simply need to lead the way and they will follow.”

Her mother stood next to her father, reaching out to touch his arm. “Years ago, it was love that tore these kingdoms apart, perhaps now it is time to let love bring them together.”

“But she needs to be Queen…”

“And she will be.” Her mother said suddenly, reaching out to touch her daughter’s cheek. “Emma is the rightful heir of Misthaven.”

“Thank God.” Henry exclaimed behind them.

“Mary Margaret, women are not in the line of succession.” Her father argued. “It is the law of the land.”

“A law that the King of Misthaven has the ability to ignore or perhaps rewrite.” She said with a smile in Emma’s direction.

“Regardless of my father’s stubbornness, and though he would not admit it publicly, he knew that his Margie had chosen the better man that day.” Liam said stepping forward. “And now we face a mighty adversary, a woman who does not care about the law of men. Perhaps on this day, it is not a man who will defeat her.”

“Emma, is this what you want?” He father asked.

“All I have ever wanted was for you to see me for what I could be. I have watched you lead my entire life. I have learned everything I know because of you. I am more than a decorative piece of furniture.”

“Aye, she is a fierce fighter, skilled with a blade, and too stubborn to back down.” Killian said proudly as he stood at her side.

“She gets that part from me.” Her father said with a laugh.

“People of Jonesboro.” His brother’s voice boomed behind him. “Today has been a sad occasion. We have lost our beloved King and Queen, but we will not let this deed go unpunished. I promise to serve you proudly as King of Jonesboro and we will avenge my parents by removing the evil that set foot in our house here this day.” He turned toward Killian, glancing between him and Emma. “This kingdom has long since held ill will to our neighbors in the North, but starting today, there will be no malice toward the people of Misthaven. We must let love guide our hearts.”

He paused, taking Emma’s hand. “I have learned much from Princess Emma, she has taught me that our duty as royals means that we must protect those who trust us to lead them. But she also taught me that without love, duty means nothing.”

He turned toward the blonde woman standing behind him. “Love is stronger than any blade and I will not allow love to be defeated on this day.” He turned his attention back to the people standing in their seats, confusion, and anxiety on their faces. “Today Jonesboro and Misthaven will join as one, a force of love so strong that it will defeat anything that stands against it.” He guided Emma’s hand toward him until he had placed it into Killian’s palm.

“My brother, Prince Killian will wed Princess Emma of Misthaven, a pair who have proven their worth on this day, a pair who will guide and lead our kingdoms to victory.”

There was a murmur among the crowd as many people whispered to their nearest neighbor.

“Hear me Misthaven.” King David’s voice boomed. “I will follow King Liam into the depths of the black forest until we reach the Queen’s castle and remove her from her reign of terror. I will do so with my daughter by my side, the rightful heir of Misthaven.”

Killian heard the crowds gasp before David pushed on.

“People of Jonesboro, we must never forget the sacrifices that were made today, a loss that I am most certain will be felt for years to come. As many of you know, King Brennan and I were not friends, but perhaps we had more in common than we realized. The devotion of our Kingdom, the joy of watching our children become braver than ourselves, and the support of the one who stands firm beside us.” He reached over and took the hand of his wife, pulling her to his side. “We should have let go of childish pride, but we could not see past our own anger. An anger that divided us and surely would destroy our lands. It is our children that have shown me the error of our ways, sadly it is too late for me to make it right with King Brennan, but together, with our children united, we can save the Enchanted Forest from a most certain destruction.”

Liam clasped him on the shoulder. “Let love rule this day.”

Killian glanced at Emma; her eyes wide as she took in the scene in front of her. “Love, what do you say?”

She turned to him, her eyes blinking slowly. “I…”

“Marry me, Emma. Marry me for now and for all eternity.”

She shook her head repeatedly as her father laughed. “She was never this quiet at home, you have done something I have tried to do for years, you have rendered her speechless.”

“Father.” Emma said in a warning tone but with a playful smile on her face. He turned toward the priest.

“Please, continue.” He gestured to the couple and stepped away from the altar to take his seat.

The priest took in the situation in front of him, hesitant to proceed. “They have my blessing.” Liam said softly, stepping back from the couple and taking Elsa’s hand once more as he guided her happily to a seat at the front of the room.

The man cleared his throat. “I suppose I shall ask again, Princess, art thou here this day in pledged troth of thy own free will and choice?”

Emma turned to him and smiled widely. “Yes Father, with all my heart.”

“Prince Killian…” He continued after a pause, “and Princess Emma have pledged their troth to be married this day, we call upon Heaven to bless this union.” The man stared at the door nervously. “Therefore, if anyone can show just cause, why they may not be joined together, by God's Law, or the Laws of the Realm; let them now speak, or else hereafter keep silent for all time.” He winced, as if waiting for the doors to barrel open once more. When he was met with silence, he exhaled.

“Wilt thou have this Woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her, in sickness and in health; and forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

Killian felt his heart flutter at the words, barely believing the fact that she was standing in front of him, giving herself to him and not his brother. He heard her clear her throat across from him, her eyes nervously scanning his. “Aye, I will.” He said quickly, offering her a smile to reassure her that he was alright.

“Wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

Emma squinted her eyes closed for a moment and then opened them as she leaned toward him. “About the obey part…” She whispered.

“Considering you are the one who will one day become Queen, it is I who will follow your lead.” He winked.

She laughed light heartedly. “Knowing you, neither one of us will be very good at this whole obeying notion.”

The Priest scowled. “May we continue?” He offered quietly.

Emma stepped back, “I believe we have an accord.” She grinned. “I mean, yes, I will.” She corrected as the Priest stared at her with a frown on his face.

Killian watched her with admiration and pride as they exchanged rings, his hand shaking with nervous energy, his heart barely contained in his chest the moment he felt the cold slide of metal on his own finger.

“Forasmuch as Killian and Emma have consented together in holy wedlock and have witnessed the same before God and this company, I pronounce therefore that they be Man and Wife together, in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

He pulled her to him before the man spoke again, brushing his lips against his own as he felt her mouth turn upward in a grin. “My wife.” He whispered softly as she pulled away from him, grinning and turning toward the cheering crowd.

They were approached by his brother and Emma’s parents, congratulatory cheers surrounding them before they were quickly ushered from the room. There was much to be done before they had a moment to digest the last few moments of the day. Planning their armies next moves was paramount if they were to get the upper hand in the fight against Regina which meant they would have mere moments alone before they would head into battle.

The moment the doors closed and the air around them was finally still, he pulled her against him, holding her close against his chest. “I will remember this day as long as I shall live.”

“Then remember to live longer than today.” She said softly against his chest. “For I wish to think upon this day when we are old and gray.”

He pulled away from her, the worry in her eyes shining through. “Emma, I would have followed my brother to the depths of hell to protect my kingdom. And today, I will follow him, but mostly I am honored to fight side by side with you in battle because I believe in you and your will to survive. I saw you today as you stood in front of Regina, unafraid and full of pride. Today you are not only my wife, my love, but my Queen. Regina doesn’t stand a chance against the likes of Jonesboro and Misthaven united. Today she will fall.”

Emma wrapped her arms around his neck, her lips assaulting his in a bruising kiss. “Keep talking like that and you will find yourself properly rewarded in your bedchamber.”

“Our bedchamber.” He corrected her. “And I very much look forward to my reward.”

She closed her eyes and pressed into him once more. “I love you, Killian.”

“I love you too.” He returned, opening his eyes, and staring into hers with every emotion he could muster. “Stay close to me, love.”

“I shall not keep my eyes off you for one moment.” She teased.

“I would despair if you did.” With one final kiss, they joined the others to make their united stand against Evil Queen Regina.

~*~

Three months later…

“No this is my favorite spot.” Killian’s voice wafted from below her, his lips lightly pressed against the skin behind her knee. She mewed appreciatively. “Ah yes, and that is why it is my favorite, it elicits such a glorious sound.” He traced his hand higher up her thigh, “Though I do enjoy the sounds this area brings as well.” A groan left her throat, much lower than the previous.

“Killian, if you keep this up, we will be late for breakfast.” His lips pressed against her inner thigh.

“Since when are we ever on time for breakfast?”

She giggled, watching his dark hair disappear between her legs, her eyes closing lazily as she enjoyed his ministrations. “Mmm, you make a valiant point, my love.” She could feel the short hairs at his chin brush against her most sensitive area, causing her head to fall back against the bed as she reveled in the feelings washing over her.

“I do believe if you continue to make that sound, we will be late for dinner as well.” He teased as his tongue slid across her center causing her to squeal in delight.

“Then it would be wise for you to quickly finish what you started, before your brother arrives on the morrow.” He lifted his head, his blue eyes gleaming in the sunlight.

“Your father takes great delight in our conversations at the table.” His fingers slipped inside of her. “I would hate to disappoint him with my absence, and it has been a while since I have seen my brother.” His tongue pressed into her folds, sliding languidly against her hot center. “But it would be a shame to rush such a delicate art.”

“Art, huh?”

“Aye.” He said with a smirk, “Pleasing you is a work of art that I take great pride in.” His finger curled inside of her, his tongue hanging loosely from his mouth as he watched her, their eyes locked in a sensuous stare.

“You are quite gifted at…” She moaned as his fingers increased their speed. “Oh God.” She cried out the moment the feeling overtook her, her hands fisting in his hair as she pulled his mouth against her center, riding out the wave of ecstasy before she settled against the bed once more.

“I will never tire of that song.” He chuckled, pulling himself against her body as he brought his mouth against hers. “A song made entirely for my ears, or at least that is what I assume since you enjoy tugging at them while you sing it.” He joked, his tongue sliding against her lips as she allowed him entry.

“I find it is the only way to silence you.” She giggled.

“Minx.” His body melded into hers as he slid inside of her, a low groan leaving his throat the moment he was fully seated inside of her. It was in these moments, the golden sun streaming in through their window, the light caressing his naked skin as he hovered above her, his blue eyes focused only on her, the true intent and emotion of their connection the only thing she could see or hear as his body became one with hers, in these moments she knew that when she had been faced with the decision between love or duty, there was always only one answer.

She had fought beside Killian, and Liam, her father standing by her side. On that day, even her mother had found her bow and set aim on Queen Regina that day. Jonesboro and Misthaven fought side by side, driving out the Queen and ending her evil reign of terror.

They had won because they fought together. Because they were bound by their duty to their people and to each other. They were bound by a love that had risen and bonded them in a way that could not be destroyed. That day they fought for each other, for their home, and for love.

And when Emma returned to Misthaven, as the future Queen of her lands with Killian at her side, she had done her duty and in return been rewarded with love.

#love or duty #stacy's fics #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan fics #captain swan au #captain swan

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monicashipslokius · 3 years

Text

Soulmates, Actually Pt 4

(read part 1/part 2/part 3)

A sharp, shrill alarm blares before the sun has even risen, rousing Loki from a perfect slumber. Loki groans their disgust, but it’s muffled in the meat of Mobius’s shoulder.

“Easy, sunshine,” Mobius says, and the infernal man is actually trying to move.

Loki grumbles louder. Mobius, chuckling, eases Loki away from him and onto the pillow instead. It’s not the same - too soft and not nearly warm enough. Loki clings tighter around Mobius’s waist in retaliation.

“We talked about this,” Mobius says. “I have to go back to work today.”

Loki huffs in frustration as they let Mobius remove their hold and lower their arms to the bed. The pillow is a poor replacement.

For a moment, Mobius brushes Loki’s hair back away from their face. His fingers linger, feather-light, at the edge of Loki’s cheekbone. Too soon, the touch is gone.

“I’ll be back at six pm sharp.”

Loki rolls onto Mobius’s side of the bed and falls asleep again.

When they awaken, the sun is bright and the sheets are cool. Loki’s stomach rumbles. They groan as they pull themself out of bed and finally face the day.

The long, lonely day.

A week has passed since Thor’s departure - a week of Loki and Mobius redecorating and cuddling and learning each other.

They bought six plants of varying sizes, new drapes the color of the ocean, and a soft bedspread to match. Mobius fixed up the broken bathroom door, and Loki hung a few new art pieces and string lights.

The La-Z-Boy they arranged in front of a small boxy television set became a fast favorite.

“What did I tell you?” Mobius said the first time Loki relaxed deeply into the recliner. “It’s the perfect throne.”

Mobius may not understand color palettes, but the man knows comfort.

“It will do for now,” Loki told him, not wanting to give too much away.

Mobius’s smile never wavered. “Mmhm.”

Now, Loki drags themself to the kitchen to make a sandwich. Ten minutes later, they are perched on the recliner, plate on their lap, watching soap operas on television.

Claudio is surprised to find that his fiance Regina’s twin sister Georgina has been behind all of his misfortune, but the plot twist has Loki rolling their eyes.

“Amateurs.” Loki bites into an apple slice.

The hours tick by. Loki watches the anchor-shaped clock that hangs in the kitchen - much of their new decor has an ocean theme. But the more Loki watches the clock, the slower time seems to pass.

Time flew by with Mobius here. But without him...

After the soap operas, the courtroom shows begin. And then the news programs. Loki walks laps around the apartment while listening to the weather forecast for the third time - partly cloudy with a 30% chance of rain. The cost of gasoline is skyrocketing. The local high school football team might make county finals, whatever that means.

At quarter to six, Loki thanks the cosmos. Finally. Mobius will be home and put an end to this monotony.

Loki cleans up a bit, dusting some crumbs off the arms of the recliner. They place the plates in the sink.

Then, because they don’t want to appear too eager, they grab a book and stretch out on the bed.

Six o’clock comes and goes. Mobius does not arrive.

By seven, Loki is annoyed.

By eight, they are angry.

By ten, they are concerned.

Dubuque seems relatively safe. And Mobius has lived here alone for a long time before Loki.

But Loki has enemies. Many, many enemies. All of whom would be more than happy to get their hands on their soulmate.

Mobius is probably fine.

But what if he’s not?

At eleven, they are examining the photo of his office building that Mobius keeps on the dresser. Mobius had taken them to see it in the past week, though they hadn’t gone inside. It wasn’t too far a walk, if they recall. Loki is certain that they could find it again, even in darkness.

So they change into a black suit and hurry out the door. The Dubuque city streets are barren this time of night. Loki encounters no one on their trek to the office - until they barge through the front door and are stopped by a security guard.

Loki promised Mobius that they would not hurt anyone, so instead they create a projection of themself to distract the guard while they themself head toward the elevators. Following the signs for the data analytics department, they ride the elevator to the fourth floor.

They step off the elevator into a darkened field of cubicles. Each is the same - small desk, computer, and chair. All are empty. But Loki isn’t alone here. They follow a light through the cubicle maze and come to one that is occupied.

Mobius has a foot-high pile of files on his desk. He’s tapping at his computer keyboard with the index finger of each hand and peering at the small monitor.

“Mobius?”

Mobius jumps, then clutches his chest. He exhales when he sees Loki standing in the opening of his 3ft x 4ft cell. “Give a guy a warning next time.” He smiles. “But it’s good to see you. How’d you get here? Security let you in?”

Loki only frowns at him. “You said you’d be back at six.”

Mobius’s smile loses some of its brightness. “I have to work a little late. Next time we go out, we’ll get you a phone so I can call and let you know -”

“’A little late?’ Mobius, it’s been hours. I thought you were...” They won’t give name to their truest fears. That Mobius had been kidnapped or killed. Or perhaps that he had finally seen the true darkness in Loki and left of his own free will.

Mobius shakes his head. “Come on, Loki. It hasn’t been that long. It’s only...” He glances at his monitor. “Midnight? That can’t be right.”

“I assure you that is accurate.”

Mobius sits back in his squeaking chair, and rubs his hands over his face. “I’m sorry...” He releases a drawn out sigh and his whole body droops. “Boss was cheesed that I bailed on the conference. I have a lot of work to make up.”

The stack of folders towers over Mobius’s slouched shoulders.

“Would it helped if I -”

“You can’t kill him,” Mobius says.

Loki closes their mouth. Tries again. “He needn’t be killed. I could simply... frighten him.”

Mobius shoots Loki a flat look.

“Fine,” Loki says, disappointed. “But what is your intention? To stay here all night?”

Mobius side-eyes the folder mountain. “I’m going to have to.”

“No.”

Mobius sighs. “Loki -”

“This is a place of employment, Mobius, not a living space.”

“It’s my own fault. I should have come back sooner.” He rubs at the corner of one eye. “Maybe I should have stayed at the conference.”

The words stab Loki between the ribs.

“Magicking away was not my best idea,” Mobius says. “I shouldn’t have run from my responsibilities. I’ll never catch up on this work.”

More stabs, a thousand tiny cuts.

“So you regret everything,” Loki says, fighting hard to keep the hurt from their voice. They are disappointed by their own surprise, their own pain. They had thought Mobius was different. They should have known.

Thor was wrong when he said no one could hold Loki’s interest. It was the other way around. Loki protected themself by leaving before the other could get bored. They should have done that here.

But they thought...

Mobius is supposed to be their perfect match.

“No, hey,” Mobius jumps from his chair. That’s all it takes to put him in Loki’s space. Loki takes a step back. “That’s not what I meant. I don’t regret everything, just some things.”

“You regret coming with me when we escaped.”

“N-no,” he says, but not without hesitation.

“You could have stayed. They weren’t chasing you. You could have told them I brainwashed you and gone on with your day.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” The bags are heavy under Mobius’s eyes. He’s tired, Loki knows that - but Loki’s tired too. Sitting, waiting, stressing.

The room sparks with tension. Loki’s pain festers under their skin.

And Mobius regrets.

Loki takes a breath, searching for calm. For understanding. For their soulmate. “Come home,” they say, “And we can continue talking in the morning.”

Mobius exhales again, too sharp. He places his hands on his hips and looks at that damned pile of folders again. “I can’t go anywhere.”

“Mobius -”

“This is my life, Loki,” Mobius tells him. “Data analysis is my life. You have to understand that.”

Something dark in Loki’s chest snaps clean in half. “This is your life. This.” They wave a hand around. “This tiny box in a sea of tiny boxes. Where everyone else has left you here in the dark. Where your employer buries you under papers so deep that you cannot find your way out of them. Is all this extra work truly because you left the conference? How often would you work late before I arrived?”

Mobius looks away, and Loki knows they’re right. The answer, too often.

“Are you at least receiving additional benefits for all this extra time spent here?”

Mobius still won’t look at them.

“They are taking advantage of you, of your loyalty, and you are letting them.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mobius snaps, the sharpest he’s ever spoken to Loki.

Loki stands taller. They’re used to anger, to cutting words, to pain - more than they were ever used to kindness.

“I am trying to protect you,” Loki says.

“I don’t need protection from my job.”

For one wild moment, Loki thinks of grabbing those folders and tossing them across the room. They dream of throwing Mobius over their shoulder and saving them from this drab place and its tan carpet and eggshell walls.

Instead, they insist, “No, you do. You owned three photos when I first met you: one of your parents, one of a jetski, and one of this office. Can you not see how depressing that is?”

Mobius face hardens.

“You are meant for better things than this. When was the last time you even rode a jetski? Or had fun of any kind?”

“I’m an adult. I don’t need fun.”

“That is absurd.”

Mobius’s brows draw together. “Listen, not all of us could be born into royalty, and just go around doing whatever we want all the time.”

Born into royalty. A fresh sting, not one Mobius could know would hit so hard. But it does all the same. Loki steps backward from the force of it.

Mobius unhooks his arms. “Loki -”

Loki shakes their head. Mobius watches them, confusion replacing frustration, followed quickly by concern. He lifts his hand, but Loki steps back again, further out of reach.

“It’s fine,” Loki says, lying. “Stay as long as you like.” They bury the pain down deep. It’s familiar, an old, hated friend. “I wouldn’t dare dream of treading on your unhappiness.”

Mobius drops his hand. “I am happy. I am perfectly happy.”

“Good,” Loki says.

“Great,” Mobius says.

“Wonderful.”

“Fantastic.”

They stare hard at each other. Loki refuses to look away first.

When Mobius finally does, turning back to his cubicle and his chair and the stack of folders, disappointment floods through Loki.

They don’t wait to be dismissed, they turn and leave on their own.

Loki does not return to the apartment. Instead, they walk and they walk and they walk. They almost hope to be accosted by vagrants, so as to release some restless energy in a fight, but they see no one. They reach a river and follow it into a forest.

They sit along the riverbank and watch the sunlight crest over the trees.

Maybe they shouldn’t have surrendered the scepter. With the tesseract, they could have traveled anywhere. Now they are limited to the distance of their own two legs. Not that they would know where to go anyway.

The only place they want to be is back at the apartment with Mobius.

It’s evening when they eventually make their way back there. Their stomach growls, and they’re thirsty and tired. With some food and a good night’s rest, perhaps they could leave again with a plan this time. Hire a taxi to an airport and take a plane. Find a city of decadence and lose themself for a few decades.

They don’t expect Mobius to be home. It’s only shortly after seven, far too early for his beloved late nights. Yet as they place the key into the lock and start to turn, they barely have time to remove it before being yanked forward into the apartment and into a crushing embrace.

“Don’t leave me,” Mobius says. His arms are sure around Loki’s waist. His nose is buried in the crook of Loki’s neck and shoulder. His words are muffled by Loki’s forest-dirty suit coat. “I’m not happy. I haven’t been in a long time. Not until you. And not without you.”

Loki sags into his arms, and he holds tighter, keeping Loki upright. Keeping them safe. They close their eyes and let the warmth of Mobius’s body chase away the chill of the Iowa evening air.

“You scared the hell outta me,” Mobius says, voice shaky. “I looked for you everywhere, but I kept checking here. I kept hoping you’d come back. I’m so sorry.” Mobius leans back. He reaches up and cups Loki’s face between his palms. Gently, he rubs his thumbs over Loki’s cheekbones. “I want to be good for you.”

“How could you think you’re not?”

Regret shines in Mobius’s eyes now, more than it ever did during their argument. “I hurt you. I don’t want to ever do that again.”

Loki places their hand over one of Mobius’s on their face. “I hurt you, too, I suspect.”

“No, everything you said was right.” He swallows. “Work’s all I had for so long, and when I was back there, and they started piling it on... Everyone else in that office has always had someone, so before I would take on the extra work myself. It was better than coming home alone. It’s a hard habit to break. Loki, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to do this.” But Loki still wants to hear it. Each of Mobius’s words are a balm over their pain. Mobius keeps going. He doesn’t even stop for breath.

“I lashed out at you, and I only did that because you were right. And I didn’t want to hear it. But then you were gone.”

“I’m here,” Loki says. “I’m here now.”

“I am a lousy soulmate.” Mobius smiles, but it’s too soft, too sad. “After so long alone, I don’t think that I know how to be with somebody. But I want to learn. I want to deserve this, with you.”

“Mobius,” Loki says, and their mending heart threatens to break again. “I am no great prize.”

Mobius starts to laugh. “I’m trying to be serious, Loki.”

“I am too,” Loki says, and whatever Mobius sees on their face stops the laughter. Loki studies the softness in Mobius’s gaze, the adoration, the great care, memorizing as much as they can, in case this is the last time they see it. “I’m a monster.”

Mobius, voice flat and unamused, says, “Be serious.”

“I was not born to royalty. Not like you think,” Loki says and waits. Dread rolls over them in waves, but Mobius does not react more than a slight cant of his head. “I’m not...” It would be easier to show him, but Loki can’t. If they do, Mobius will change all of his sweet words. He won’t stand to share this small apartment with them any longer, and Loki will be back on that riverside. “How you see me is not... how I am.”

Mobius is patient. Mobius waits. Maybe Loki wasn’t wrong about Mobius after all. Maybe Mobius, like them, is imperfect and a little afraid but trying.

Slowly, Loki pulls Mobius’s hands from their face so as not to burn him with the cold of their skin as they lift the glamour that hides their Jotunn form.

They want to look away, to hide from the horror they are sure to see on Mobius’s face, but simultaneously are too desperate to see any and every reaction.

Mobius’s eyes grow wide. His lips part. He blinks a few times.

“Loki,” Mobius says, and Loki braces for fresh heartache. But then he smiles, real and true and bright, a lighthouse in a lifetime of hurt. “Blue like the ocean.” The adoration never dims from his eyes. “You are beautiful.”

Mobius insists he doesn’t care, but Loki only feels comfortable again with their glamour restored.

“Either way,” Mobius says, and sends Loki off to the bathroom to shower and change. “I’ll have dinner ready by the time you’re done.”

When Loki leaves the tiny bathroom in their silk pajamas, they find the small two-person table lit by candlelight. Mobius stands beside it, wearing one of the dark suits Loki picked out for him at the store, with a deep green tie that’s slightly askew.

“What’s all this?” Loki asks.

“I know we’re soulmates, and our fates are destined and everything,” Mobius says, tugging at his collar. A bit of pink dusts his cheeks. “But some things should be done the old fashioned way. I want to win your heart, so I thought...” He clears his throat. “I want to wine and dine you. Properly.”

“Ah.” Loki slides further into the room, heart lighter than it’s been in the past forty-eight hours. All the lingering hurts are mended. And Mobius looks delectable in that suit, just as Loki thought he would. Loki strides right up to him, reaches out, and adjusts his tie. “You are attempting to seduce me.”

Mobius’s cheeks redden. He glances away for the briefest of moments before his eyes return to Loki’s face.

“You are everything a guy could want,” Mobius says. “More than I ever dreamed.”

Loki finishes fixing Mobius’s tie, but leaves their hands flat on Mobius’s chest. Mobius takes one and brings it to his mouth. He places a kiss to Loki’s palm.

Loki shivers, but not from any cold.

“Loki,” Mobius says, giving so much weight to the name - things unspoken, maybe not ready to be said, but are known - so known, and ready to be shown.

Mobius leans, and Loki stays very still, waiting, wanting but so, so afraid.

Mobius stops just out of reach. His breath hot on Loki’s lips, he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

Loki swallows all their fear and whispers, “Please.”

Mobius closes the distance and presses their lips together.

Fireworks ignite in Loki’s chest. Their heart thunders. Their hands itch for more, so they grab Mobius by the shoulders and hold, clinging, ruining the new suit and not caring at all.

Mobius cups Loki’s jawline, guiding them closer, tilting gently, positioning Loki just as he wants them. Loki goes willingly, opening their mouth as Mobius licks his way inside.

They should have done this long ago. They should do this all the time. This should never, ever stop.

Loki moans as Mobius’s fingers comb into their hair. Mobius breaks for air, tilts his head, and comes back for more. Loki holds Mobius so close, they are certain their heart beats straight into Mobius’s chest.

It’s perfect, passion incarnate, and Loki wants so much that they -

Loki’s stomach growls. Loudly.

Mobius smiles against Loki’s lips.

Loki groans as Mobius plants one more soft kiss and pulls away.

“Wining and dining time,” he says with a wink.

Loki is both endeared and annoyed. “I will have more of this.” His stomach grumbles again. “After dinner.”

Loki doesn’t miss the flush of Mobius’s cheeks, even as his easy smile returns. “It would be my absolute pleasure, and I mean that.”

#i wrote this #lokius #wowki #loki x mobius #soulmate au #part 4 of 5 theoretically though the list of scenes i want gets longer every chapter oops #might be 4 of 6 #anyway #fighting cw #making up #that jotunn scene that must be in every long fic #first kiss #i fit a lot in here haha #OH! also #long fic #be warned if you click the read more #ao3 link tomorrow prolly #this one hits a little different than the rest #i really wanted to deal with mobius's workaholism

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mcmactictac · 3 years

Text

Pt. 3! This one is slightly different, but here’s some songs that remind me of different groups/friendships from the DreamSMP! (These are all character based, not the actual CC’s!)

Wilbur and Tommy: No children by the Mountain Goats

This is one of my top Wilbur songs, especially during the Pogtopia era. Wilbur is just a shell of the person he was before and Tommy is forced to sit and watch as Wilbur crumbles. Both of them desperately need each other, but it just isn’t enough this time.

“I hope it stays dark forever, I hope the worst isn’t over. And I hope you blink before I do, and I hope I never get sober. And I hope when you think of me years down the line, you can’t find one good thing to say. And I’d hope that if I found the strength to walk out, you’d stay the hell out of my way”

An alternate, somewhat happier option is Two Birds by Regina Spektor. It’s looking at Tommy and Wilbur as two birds, and one wants to let go and move on, and the other one is stuck in the same place they’ve always been. I personally interpret Wilbur as the bird who stays on the wire, as it reminds me of how attached he is to his country and the idea of ultimately destroying it. He lies to Tommy and says he wants to “fly” too, but he is inevitably always going to end up in that button room.

“Two birds on a wire. One tries to fly away, and the other. Watches him close from that wire. He says he wants to as well, but he is a liar.”

Tommy and Tubbo: Things we Lost in the Fire by Bastille

After all the war and constant destruction Tommy and Tubbo have sat through; having died multiple times and watching the nation they built get destroyed? They have a bond forged where they have watched everything they love get destroyed, and had to move on and keep going even when it felt impossible. This specific song reminds me of the aftermath of losing their home for the final time, and having to find something new to fight for. It also covers both of their guilt over what has happened between the two of them, and how they both blame themselves for how things have gone.

“I was the match and you were the rock, maybe we started this fire. We sat apart and watched, all we had burn on a pyre. We were born with nothing, and we sure as hell have nothing now. You said, we were born with nothing and we sure as hell have nothing now”

Bench trio: Who we are by Imagine Dragons

What I like about this song is that it addresses their struggles and problems, but doesn’t make them seem helpless and incapable. They grow out of the trauma and force themselves to become stronger because of it, resulting in many other problems, but they certainly aren’t weak. They’re just kids dealing with problems the only way they know how.

“We were never welcome here, we were never welcome here at all. No. It’s who we are, doesn’t matter if we’ve gone too far. Doesn’t matter if it’s all ok, doesn’t matter if it’s not our day. Oh save us, what we are. Don’t look clear, it’s all uphill from here”

Tommy and Techno: Welcome home son by Radical Face

Listen I like to live in a world where this ended well so I will be picking a happy song for this first BUT I have included an angstier option below too. I saw a beautiful piece of fanart to this song months ago, and it’s reminded me of Tommy and Techno ever since. In a post Logsted time where Tommy is still recovering from his trauma, and him and Techno are learning how to be friends again. Neither of them are great with expressing their emotions in canon, and they demonstrate their feelings through actions (Techno giving Tommy a new disc as a present since he knows he loves them) This song is less about the lyrics and more about the energy it has going on, it makes sense when you hear it.

“All my nightmares escaped my head. Bar the door, please don’t let them in. You were never supposed to leave. Now my heads splitting at the seams, and i don’t know if I can-“

And an angsty option for the hurt no comfort enjoyers, Goodbye my Danish Sweetheart by Mitski.

This would take place in the middle of doomsday, with the fight between Tommy and Techno arguing about who betrayed who. We know now that Tommy blames himself for betraying Techno, which makes this fit even better. It’s the sharp pain of feeling like you are not the person you used to be, and not in a good way. You sit there and mourn the loss of who you were, and how you are not the person who other people love anymore.

“Now I lay as I study a blank wall, would you spare me your voice if I call? Cause you waited and watered my heart till it grew, you just grew a little smarter too. And I don’t blame you in you want to bury me in your memory, I’m not the girl I ought to be, but maybe when you tell your friends you can tell them what you saw in me and not how I turned out to be.”

Early L’manberg crew: Born for This by the Score

This song still has the passion, optimism and hope of a united group who believes they are fighting for what’s right. It has that sense of unity heavily tied in with passion that was there with early L’manberg.

“I believe, I believe we can write our story. I believe, I believe we can be an army. We are the warriors, who learned to love the pain, we come from different places, but have the same name. Cause we were born for this”

I might circle back to some of the characters from part one, as I have a ton of songs that fit them, and there are lots of members who have lore I am behind on so I don’t have an accurate idea of where their character is at! I have a playlist right now with all of the songs I’ve used so far, so once I stop doing these I’ll post a list with all of the songs on here, and maybe include some of my favourites I never got around to writing explanations for!

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rotworld · 3 years

Text

The Truth in Masquerade

usurpers part 7. previous | next

derek gives in. izsák reaps the rewards.

->derek/oc. explicit; contains d/s dynamics, degradation, biting/blood drinking, descriptions of violence and torture, and the usual derek things.

It takes less than a week for curiosity to eat through Derek’s resolve completely. Izsák speeds things along by bringing up weird shit every chance he gets and then waiting, perfectly poised, for a shift in Derek’s expression. It’s always some off-handed mention when it’s just the two of them. Izsák will help him prepare for another guest appearance at another dreadful party, presenting him with a fresh towel after a shower, tying his tie, and then he’ll sigh in a wistful way and say, “You never have liked these little soirees. It was much easier when Ferenc was here, wasn’t it? He bore the burden of public scrutiny with such ease.”

And what the fuck is Derek supposed to do? Not ask questions? Not think about why Izsák will stare, studying his face expectantly, and then suddenly laugh and mutter, “Pay me no mind, sir.” He tells himself it’s just Izsák being his usual freaky self, but has he always been so strangely in tune with Derek? Did he always stand so close and act so concerned over every little thing? Fussing over him when he bangs his knee on a table, or after a particularly public breakup? It’s fucking weird. Derek tells him it’s weird, and Izsák just smiles peaceably and goes about his business.

Three days after the museum, Izsák is drinking tea at the kitchen table while Derek eats lunch. His father is out with Clarice and the house is blissfully quiet. Derek is texting Emilia, who is hysterical and wants to break up with him again over some new bullshit that Derek can’t remember and doesn’t care to figure out from the vague hints she’s dropping. He’s sure he can talk her into a night out and a quick fuck with the right combination of sweet talking and apology gifts. He wouldn’t bother, but his father chewed him out about how it looks when he brings a new girl to every social function. People notice, his father claimed, and people talk. Derek rolls his eyes just thinking about it. His father keeps a girlfriend for a few months and now he thinks he’s some kind of fucking expert on monogamy.

And then, out of nowhere, Izsák breaks him out of his thoughts. “Are you feeling restless, sir? I had something in mind, if you are interested.”

“Unless it’s something to get Emilia to calm the fuck down, I’m not interested,” Derek says. He only looks up from his phone when he hears the scrape of Izsák’s chair across the table and sees him coming closer. He stands behind Derek, rests a hand on his shoulder, and leans in to peer at the phone screen. His touch, light, weightless, totally innocent, makes Derek burn with desire.

“I see. She’s upset that you have taken other partners.”

Derek rolls his eyes. Of course it’s that. Nobody can keep a goddamn secret anymore. He wonders which one of them couldn’t keep their mouths shut. Regina? Francine? Couldn’t have been Laney, because Laney...

Derek swallows hard at the thought, the memory. Standing here in the kitchen when Emilia called him sobbing, saying her two-faced bitch of a friend was comatose in the hospital. Car accident. She never woke up. Izsák had looked up from organizing his father’s day and watched as Derek took in the news. There was something knowing in his eyes, and Derek remembered suddenly how Izsák had uncorked a vial of chicken blood and flicked it after Laney.

There’s no way. Derek repeated that in his head like a mantra whenever he caught himself starting to believe it. The blood of a black-feathered hen. No fucking way. He looks over his shoulder at Izsák, at the eyes gazing back at him and awaiting—something.

“You got a spell for this?” Derek says. He’s perturbed when Izsák smiles, like he’s delighted to be asked.

“Of course, sir,” he says. He retrieves his tea and strides quickly to the kitchen sink, dumping the rest of it down the drain. Derek watches him pluck the damp bag of herbs out of the cup, shaking the rest of the water out, and setting it on a plate. “You may watch if you’d like,” Izsák says.

“I don’t care,” Derek says. And he shouldn’t. But his gaze is drawn back when he sees Izsák pull a lighter from his pocket and flick it until a little wavering flame appears. It looks like he’s trying to light the tea bag on fire, but it’s too damp to catch. Some foul-smelling smoke sizzles to the ceiling. Izsák whispers something, not in English, and Derek just stares.

That’s when Emilia messages him back after a solid ten minutes of the silent treatment. She says she can’t stay mad at him and asks to meet up later that night. Derek stares at the text in disbelief, then looks up and finds Izsák standing there, watching him. Smiling.

“You may ask me questions, if you have any,” Izsák says. “I wonder if you remember this one.”

“Where exactly am I supposed to remember it from? I’ve never seen that shit before.”

Izsák answers automatically, like he’s been waiting for this. “Csejte, 1578. I performed this spell for you for the first time.”

Derek doesn’t know how to react, so he doesn’t. “You did not.”

“I did,” Izsák insists.

“You fucking didn’t. That doesn’t make sense.” Izsák frowns, opening his mouth to disagree, but Derek gets up, leaves the table, and goes out to the pool to soak his feet and avoid whatever it is that’s happening. Izsák knows better than to pursue him and gives him space, but it’s too late. Derek is thinking about chicken blood. He’s thinking about headless girls encased in ice. Which is weird because he’s never seen that before, but something about the statue at the museum, about the things Izsák said, put a distinct image in his head. He’s hungry. He wants to taste somebody’s blood. He feels himself salivating when he remembers biting Izsák’s neck and he wants to feel skin give beneath his teeth.

“What the fuck,” he mutters to nobody. He kicks at the water until dusk, until his erection is gone and his father comes home with Clarice and Izsák is busy with other things so Derek can avoid his eyes and that look that knows too much.

Four days after the art museum, Derek wakes up and his dick is so hard it hurts. The dream snaps out of place and tries slipping away before he can remember it, but he holds tight to everything that’s left;

A castle. Stained glass windows. Stone archways. The snow-covered courtyard with its frozen women like grotesque, grasping trees. Long corridors and echoing screams. He stood eclipsed by flickering candlelight and writhing shadow, walking barefoot through puddles of blood. There were bodies dangling from the dungeon ceiling, hung from meathooks and impaled in iron cages. Slit throats. Dangling entrails. They wept and moaned above him, and their blood rained on his skin. These were his kills. He hunted them himself, hung them like trophies. He reveled in their pain. Silhouettes played across the walls, human and beastly shapes that grew and warped and twined together in obscene dance. Derek felt these shades watching, but he didn’t fear their gazes. There was no need to perform for them.

And Izsák was there, smiling gently. He wore nothing. He was deathly pale, unmarked as though the blood couldn’t touch him. Derek was possessed by the need to dirty him. He reached desperately, his grasp leaving bruises, dragging Izsák through red rain and filth. He was tainted slowly, a splatter across his shoulder, a rivulet dripping down from his scalp. It fell in heavy clots in his lashes. Derek pressed him against the cold stone wall, his wandering hands smearing abstract shapes over Izsák’s skin, and then he licked it off of him with long, slow drags of his tongue.

It was so fucking stupid. He’d never do that in real life. But just thinking about it gets him even harder. Derek palms himself through silk pajama pants, shivering, leaning back against the headboard. He’d never be so tender and gentle. But in the dream, Izsák looked at him with this passion, this reverence, like Derek was God and that castle dungeon was their private, depraved heaven. It was so vivid. The musk of all that flesh and blood was heady and visceral. He slips his hand beneath the waistband of his clothes. It’s pathetic. Jacking off has never been so disappointing. He can see it when he closes his eyes, dreamlike and hazy; bodies and darkness. Izsák beneath him, his hands framing Derek’s face, his eyes glazed with wanting. He twists his palm around the head of his cock and imagines it’s Izsák doing it, Izsák between his legs and covered in blood.

It’s not the first time he’s fantasized about Izsák, but it was always different before. More impersonal. Izsák’s mouth around his cock. Izsák’s hips moving against his. The way Izsák’s back arches and his muscles all go taut while Derek fucks him raw over his father’s desk. But this is so much more heated and detailed. It’s not just the sensation or the view, it’s how Izsák looks at him, how he talks to him. It’s how he knows Derek in intimate and frightening ways, and doesn’t expect anything more of him.

In the dream, Izsák worshiped him. He got to his knees and the sight of Derek’s body, his apparent desire, the hard cock swollen against his abdomen, seemed to mesmerize him. He looked up at Derek as he pressed a kiss to the head of his cock, drool and precum on his lips. His tongue caressed Derek’s length from base to tip and his hands smoothed along his thighs. He moaned shamelessly, the sound vibrating against Derek’s flesh as he suckled on the sensitive underside. He mumbled something, unwilling to pull away and cease pleasuring Derek for even a moment, but Derek understood somehow. He knew what he was trying to say; I’m yours.

Derek bites his lip so hard it bleeds, desperately fucking his fist. It’s too hot. He has to throw off the sheets and pull his pants down around his thighs but he’s still sweating, his head pounding. He still feels the stagnant dungeon air, the blood drying to his skin. He remembers the way Izsák bobbed his head, the hot slide of his lips and his tongue at the base of Derek’s cock when he started to deepthroat him. Izsák gagged and squirmed but he didn’t pull off, didn’t even try. Derek wasn’t holding him still because he didn’t have to. They didn’t speak to each other, but he understood in that moment the depths of Izsák’s devotion to him. He knew Izsák would do anything for him. Would kill for him. Would give his own blood, his own body, if it would satisfy Derek.

“I’m gonna cum,” he says, panting. Izsák is too hot and wet and perfect around his cock. He thrusts deep, feels his balls slap Izsák’s chin and he grinds against the back of his throat, and Izsák chokes on a moan. His worship becomes even more fervent. His hands grip the back of Derek’s thighs, squeezing his ass, spurring him into more violent movements and keeping them locked together. He wants everything Derek has to give him. He accepts it all, the hunger and brutality, his every whim and desire. When Derek cums down his throat, Izsák gags on it, his hands tightening on Derek’s legs, but he stays. He looks up at Derek through hazy eyes and swallows obediently. He lets Derek soften in his throat, sucking gently as though to milk him of the last of his climax.

Derek lays there, dazed and confused, realizing he’s alone and his sheets are soiled. It takes time to catch his breath. He lies in his own mess, eyes closed. He’s still there, in the castle dungeon. The dreamfog begins to clear. He isn’t standing anymore. He’s reclining, encased in liquid warmth. When he moves his hands, red swirls around them. He licks it off his fingers. It’s hot, metallic, and sickly sweet. It’s so clear, so detailed and real, that Derek is startled to open his eyes to the dark ceiling of his own room again.

Just a dream, he tells himself. His heart is still racing.

Five days after the art museum, Derek’s determination to ignore all the strangeness is shot. Pretending that everything is fine and he isn’t turning into a fucking vampire goes from a chore to a battle of epic proportions against his own body. He’s hungry all the time, his libido is out of control, and he has to bite the inside of his mouth to keep himself from sinking his teeth into anyone else. He takes Emilia out to see a movie and he can’t focus on anything but her neck. The way the light plays across it, the moving shadows, the outline of her muscles every time she swallows or laughs. He imagines himself biting her, his jaw clamping down on her throat like a wild animal. He tells her he has to use the bathroom halfway through and jacks off in a stall fantasizing about tasting her carotid artery.

Asking Izsák is out of the question. His pride won’t allow it. Izsák is already smug as fuck about all of this, sneaking up on Derek constantly and asking very pointed questions about how he’s feeling or whether he’s had enough to drink, all with that fucking smile on his face. He retreats to his room in his father’s house, blessed with a rare moment of privacy, and gets online. The tentative approach doesn’t get him far; a quick online diagnosis gives him two types of cancer. In desperation, he starts trying the things he’s heard Izsák casually mention, names he can’t remember right and places he can’t spell.

Inevitably, he finds her. Frozen in time, she gazes back at him from her lofty position atop a webpage detailing her atrocities. One hand rests daintily upon a faded red tablecloth, the other holding an embroidered handkerchief. She isn’t smiling and there’s a weariness to her regality, a thinly veiled disdain in her eyes. Derek feels that he knows her, that he recognizes that quiet sneer. He’s seen it in the mirror before. A strange, twisting feeling knots up his stomach, and he doesn’t fully understand it, doesn’t know what all of this means, but he knows something has happened to him. Some change has taken root.

He skims the page absently, the words washing over him both exhilarating and deeply familiar. Torture. Mutilation. Bloodbaths. The stories are fantastical, too incredible to be true, and yet there is no shortage of them. Derek searches further, needing to find her, needing to know exactly who she was. Elizabeth, Erzsébet, the Bloody Countess—no matter what she’s called, Derek finds kinship in the morbid details. Born into wealth and excess, thrust into the noble’s spotlight, and utterly disinterested in it all. She was on a quest for timelessness, to escape the mundane world. She performed as Derek does, marrying, attending to her courtly duties, wearing the mask of contented civility, but she also indulged and hunted, relishing in the viciousness of it all. Derek looks at her portrait with newfound emotion, something heavy yet freeing.

He almost isn’t surprised when Izsák speaks as though suddenly materialized behind his chair, “Your father sent me, sir. I am to prepare you for this evening.” Derek turns and examines Izsák, searching for things he hasn’t noticed before, or things he didn’t want to notice. His easy, eager submission. His smile. His eyes that know Derek, know what he wants, what he needs before Derek himself is even aware. Eyes that have seen centuries.

“Which one?” Derek asks.

Izsák tilts his head, silently seeking clarification. He’s smiling very slightly. Did the Blood Countess see this same smile? Did it greet her before grand balls, assuring her of the safety of her secrets? Did it welcome her to the dungeon, her private sanctuary?

“She had accomplices,” Derek says. “Servants who helped her keep things quiet. Some of them were questioned at the trial.” He doesn’t clarify; doesn’t have to. Izsák listens patiently, his smile widening as though this is precisely what he’s been waiting for. How long has he waited? Derek wonders. How much longer was he willing to wait? “There was one man who helped her torture her victims, but the rest were women. One was her old wetnurse, and one was one of her personal servants. The other two were witches or something. Right?” Dorottya and Darvulia. He didn’t bother to learn the rest of the names, but he memorized those. One of them was important. One of them mattered more than all the rest.

Izsák hums thoughtfully. “That is what many people say, yes.”

Derek stands up and hits him. It’s sudden, impulsive, happening so quickly that he doesn’t realize he’s done it until his hand starts to sting. Izsák touches his reddened cheek with soft, uncertain strokes, as though he’s just as surprised. The way he looks at Derek is wrong. Not disdain. Not disappointment. Elation. The joy of a long-awaited reunion.

“Which one are you?” Derek asks.

Just like in the dream, Izsák sinks to his knees before Derek. The movement is slow and graceful, as though he’s done it a thousand times before. He takes one of Derek’s hands in his and holds it as though it’s something precious. “I am the one who did not betray you,” he says, pressing his lips to the back of Derek’s hand. The gesture is gentle and intimate, stirring something violent within him. He wants to hurt Izsák. He wants to dirty him. He wants to thank him for coming back after all this time, saving him from suffocating in his own constant performance, but he only knows how to lie about gratitude, not show it for real.

The one who didn’t betray him. Derek turns the words over in his mind to admire like precious stones. He remembers—did he read it somewhere, or does the knowledge come from somewhere else?—that the countess’ servants were called to stand trial. Each one confessed to the atrocities, the beatings, the bloodletting. The man. The wetnurse. The servant. Even Dorottya broke her vow of silence and servitude to testify against her mistress. They all betrayed her.

All but loyal Darvulia, her devotion unending. She wasn’t there that day. Already dead, some stories say. It doesn’t matter. Derek knows what became of her now. He threads his fingers through Izsák’s hair.

“I don’t get it,” he admits. “I don’t get how it works. But I believe you. I see pictures of her, and I know we’re the same.”

Izsák nuzzles against Derek’s palm like an animal, a pet seeking affection. It’s intoxicating, the power he holds, the total submission Izsák gives him, unchanged by the centuries. It feels right. It makes sense the way a dream does in the midst of it. “I couldn’t save you,” Izsák murmurs. “I was not strong enough then. This time will be different.”

Derek is too caught up in the thick need in Izsák’s voice, the curve of his spine as he leans into Derek’s touch, to understand the words right away. “Save me from what?” he asks, but Izsák is already standing, stepping away from him. Derek isn’t done with him. He yanks him back by the forearm and bites him without warning, leaving the shape of his teeth in his earlobe. “Save. Me. From. What,” Derek growls, each word punctuated with a nip to Izsák’s delicate skin. He bruises so easily.

“From your family,” Izsák gasps. He holds onto Derek, moves against him shamelessly. Derek feels how hard Izsák is and smirks against the fluttering flesh of his throat. He slides his thigh between Izsák’s legs, giving him the privilege of rutting against it. Izsák is so needy, so desperate to serve and explain as he chases his own pleasure, his words coming in breathless pants and whines. “Just as it was before, your own blood plots against you. Your father, he—oh, sir, please!”

Derek can’t pay attention to whatever Izsák is trying to tell him. It doesn’t matter. Nothing is more important right now than getting inside of Izsák and tasting him. “On the bed,” he demands, and Izsák obeys without question. They’re all over each other. Derek savors the roaming worship of Izsák’s hands down his biceps and across his chest. It feels good. It feels right. He can’t get undressed fast enough, still shedding clothes as he nips and licks at Izsák’s tempting neck, and Izsák is so good and obedient, turning his head to give Derek better access. “You really are mine,” Derek says.

“All yours, sir,” Izsák says. Derek has barely touched him and he looks blissed out already, eyes glazed, a delirious smile on his face as though just being in Derek’s presence is the greatest of pleasures. He unbuttons his shirt further, exposing a tantalizing flash of his collarbones and old, faded marks Derek left days ago. “Take me. Drink from me. Do with me whatever pleases you.” Izsák’s nails sink into his shoulders as he pulls himself up enough to whisper against Derek’s ear, “Please, master. I’ve waited for you.”

The final, worn string of Derek’s self-control snaps. He bites into Izsák like he’s meat. He hears skin and tissue give beneath his teeth, splitting, squelching open, tastes the tangy burst of Izsák’s lifeblood on his tongue. He ruts against Izsák’s hard, twitching cock, trapped between their bodies, and Izsák’s head falls back in ecstasy. Derek sucks at the wound and tastes Izsák’s tenderness, the sharp sweetness of him. It’s so good, so right and familiar. Izsák was born for this, born for him. He would never belong to anyone the way he belonged to Derek, would never know anyone as deeply, would never want anyone as wholly. Somehow, arched and gasping, Izsák moves himself, grinds slowly against Derek’s achingly hard cock. He reaches between them and guides Derek to his twitching, anticipating hole. Derek slams inside of his welcoming, tight heat and his eyes roll back in his head. Nothing has ever felt so good.

“You’re mine. My loyal little toy. My cockslut,” Derek hisses, unclamping his jaws from Izsák’s neck just to find a new, fresh spot to taste. Izsák shudders around him, beneath him. His legs open wider. Derek hooks Izsák’s ankles over his shoulders and bends him in half. It’s new, doing it like this. He’s fucked Izsák while looking at him a couple times but never staring like this, never pressed chest to chest and sharing breath. Izsák’s lips are right there and he moves without thinking, swooping in, crushing their mouths together. So soft and tender. His teeth crunch through Izsák’s lower lip and blood gushes into his mouth, heady and intoxicating. “Can’t get enough of you,” he moans into Izsák’s mouth.

Izsák’s nails rake down his back hard enough to draw blood. Derek lets him. It’s better that way, more raw, more wonderful. He pulls back to admire the blood and saliva smeared across Izsák’s lips, dripping down his chin. It feels like the desert in his room, the heat, the intensity, a soft body surrendering beneath him. He slams his cock into Izsák’s helpless body over and over again, relishing the sensations, the sounds, the desperate raggedness of Izsák’s breathing. He crushes Izsák against the bed and this time he kisses him. He should’ve done it earlier. Izsák’s mouth is so hot, so soft and slutty and wanting him. He sucks on Izsák’s tongue as he fucks him into the mattress, hips pistoning, cock drilling into his pliant, shaking body.

Izsák has been wanton and shameless before, but this is more than that. This is devotion, Derek thinks. This is what he’s always deserved. Izsák’s thighs quiver as Derek pounds into him, so hard and fast his own legs are straining but he can’t bring himself to stop. The pleasure is blinding, a liquid heat in the pit of his stomach. He’s kissing Izsák in filthy, hungry ways that he’s never done with any of his girlfriends, licking into him, tangling their tongues together, sucking on the bite he left for every bead of blood that bubbles to the surface. He’s going to cum. He’s going to claim Izsák so thoroughly, so completely, that he’ll never be satisfied by anyone else ever again. He’ll worship Derek’s cock just like this with his whole body. He’ll beg for it. He’ll beg for a chance to suck his dick under the table at dinner parties. He’ll thank Derek when he cums down his throat and swallow every drop.

Izsák is his. He might be Derek’s father’s assistant on paper, he might spread his legs for him sometimes, but he’s Derek’s. He’s been Derek’s across centuries, across continents. He’s come all this way just to get on his knees before Derek, where he belongs. Derek squeezes Izsák’s ass, digs his nails in. This is mine, he thinks. This body, this mind, this entire being. He stops kissing Izsák to nose against the other side of his neck, licking and teasing the unbroken skin.

Derek smirks against Izsák’s hammering pulse. He’s close. He’s going to cum. He fucks Izsák deep, grinds against him, feels his balls roll over Izsák’s smooth skin. “Beg me to bite you,” he purrs.

Izsák clings even more tightly, begs even more sweetly. “Please, give me your bite,” Izsák cries for him. “I need it. I was born to receive it. Please use me, make me yours. I should always belong to you, master.”

Derek cums hard, buried deep inside of Izsák. Everything whites out, sight and sound and understanding consumed by orgasm. There’s a sharp stinging sensation somewhere on his body, a pain that crests with the pleasure, intermingled too tightly to process on its own. Izsák writhes and whimpers through his own orgasm, his own cum splattering across his chest and Derek fills him. It feels like the aftershocks last forever, heat rushing through him, waves and pulses.

Derek is trembling when he pulls out of Izsák, watching Izsák’s hole clench obscenely around emptiness as cum leaks out of him. Neither of them speaks for some time, basking in the completion of it all. Derek feels the world swaying as though he’s riding a metronome, the call of sleep smothering and irresistible. He can’t believe how hard he came. There’s still blood on his mouth and he licks his lips, humming at the taste. He feels someone touch him; Izsák, gentle and reverent. Tracing his muscles. Caressing his chest. He doesn’t cuddle, but when he’s this tired, teetering on the edge of oblivion, he can’t complain.

He wonders if they did this before. If Countess Bathory laid with sweet, loyal Darvulia, cuddled like lovers. Just this once, he thinks, he’ll let Izsák get away with it. For old times’ sake.

—murmurs. Someone calling him. Calling his name. Softly and distantly, then loud. Close. Not Izsák. Not respectful enough.

“Derek. Get up.”

A rustling sound, the scrape of curtains rising. Blinding, burning light assaults Derek’s eyes and he groans, rolling over. God, what time is it? Sleep clings stubbornly to his mind, clouding his thoughts. He’s sore, mostly in his legs and back. Right, it’s coming back to him. He and Izsák fucked last night. Izsák, Darvulia, hundred year old Hungarian witch, whatever. It was some of the best sex of his life. But usually, it’d be Izsák who comes and gets him in the morning, so why is his father here, looming over Derek’s bed and refusing to leave?

“What?” he says, groggy. His father is frowning in that tense, disappointed way that turns Derek’s stomach. He sees it directed at other people mostly, former business partners, overambitious rivals, people who really, really fuck up. Derek’s mouth goes dry. “What?” he says again, struggling to sit up straight. What happened? What did he do? He can’t be mad about Izsák, right, it’s not like they were being subtle. Did he forget something?

Derek looks at the window and fuck, it’s late,he must’ve slept through an event he was supposed to go to or some shit. He rubs his eyes, pushing himself to remember. He thinks, maybe, there was some kind of afternoon social he was supposed to make an appearance at, but the details are foggy. Why is his head pounding like that? It’s like having a hangover. He feels like he slept for decades.

His father paces halfway across the room. Derek follows the movement with his eyes and spots something at the foot of the bed. Is that blood? Dirt? Some kind of ugly stain on the sheets. They really got carried away last night, he thinks, but then he sees an arm.

Just an arm.

Not Izsák’s. He’s not sure why his mind goes there immediately, but it’s not, he knows it isn’t. Izsák doesn’t wear flaking pink nail enamel with glitter. He just knows there’s a severed human arm on his bed and a bunch of stains around it. Definitely dried blood, but there’s dirt, too, like someone dug up a grave, and.

That’s cum. That’s definitely a cum stain. Derek’s eyes slowly trail up to meet his father’s. His father looks down at him and doesn’t say a word. Derek swallows hard and tries to think of something, anything, that he can say. Nothing comes to mind.

“I’ve had concerns,” his father says. Derek can barely hold his gaze. That judgment, that cold scrutiny—he works tirelessly to escape it, to put on the most convincing performance he can. “You don’t know the first thing about discretion. That’s one thing. It’s another that you think I’ll clean up all of your messes for you.”

Derek glances at the arm, sprawled grotesquely over his sheets. “I don’t know what that is,” he says hoarsely. Obviously he knows what it is, but he doesn’t know how it got there.

“I’ve been lenient,” his father goes on, as if Derek never spoke. “Too lenient. I’ve turned a blind eye to most of your deviancy. But this? This crosses the line. I should have listened to Izsák sooner.”

Derek’s blood goes cold in his veins. “What does that mean?” he demands. His father turns his back on him. Derek throws himself out of bed, rushing after him. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means you’re cut off,” his father says. He doesn’t even look at him when he speaks. “I want your things out of here by tonight, but don’t go too far. The police want to speak with you. Something about graverobbing and desecration of a corpse.”

Derek stands there numbly, watching his father walk out and the door slam shut behind him. No. He didn’t do it. He didn’t do any of this. He looks back at the arm hatefully. What the fuck is it doing there, ruining his life? Heat rises to his face, shame, humiliation. Maybe he was getting a little arrogant, brazenly packing his bags for his desert outings, leaving things lying around in plain sight, but it was always so easy to explain away. He’s good at his performance. No one suspected anything. If he’s going to get caught, it’s not going to be for some bullshit he didn’t even do. He wipes angry, helpless tears out of his eyes and storms downstairs. Izsák. He needs to find Izsák.

He runs into other housekeepers who pale and dart out of his way. Derek ignores them. He doesn’t care about any of them, his gaze lingering only if they’re the right height, wearing the right uniform. No sign of Izsák in any of the usual places. No one in the kitchen. Not a soul out by the pool. He scares a gardener when he comes storming through but finds nobody else. His father has retreated elsewhere in the house and Derek finds his office abandoned, paperwork strewn across his desk. Derek sees several financial forms and summaries, land deeds, company assets, stocks and bonds. A copy of his father’s will sits in the corner and Derek’s heart stops.

Under the section for inheritors, his name isn’t listed. Neither are any of his siblings or cousins. Not even Clarice shows up anywhere. But one name does appear, getting absolutely everything his father could possibly leave behind.

Izsák Varga.

There is one moment of silence. A lack of comprehension. Derek reads the name several times before it makes sense. Then comes the storm building, the fire and venom churning inside of him, a tight, clenching pain in his chest. Disbelief. Bitter humor. A hatred so powerful it makes him lightheaded and hot in the face. He goes through the stages of grief in the span of a millisecond, mourning something he didn’t realize he even wanted, and a crazed smile stretches across his face.

Calmly and quietly, he goes upstairs and begins going through his things. He shoves his dresser out of the way and pushes aside a false wall panel concealing a large, musty-smelling duffel bag. He unzips it, checks the contents. Grains of sand trickle from an open compartment. Good. Everything he needs. He’s angry. He can’t remember the last time he was this angry, his hands shaking, his whole body seeming to vibrate with the need to stab and strangle. But there’s an excited edge to it, the sort of anticipation that comes with his vacations.

I’m going to fucking kill him, he thinks. I’m going to make him beg for death.

He’s smiling too big, too honestly. He feels giddy and he can’t hide it. A woman dusting in the hall gives him a wide berth when he passes, plastering herself against the wall. He’s a predator passing, a wolf with better things to do and bigger prey in mind. He licks his lips. His mask fails him. He doesn’t even try to pretend anymore.

#rotpeach writes #usurpers #tpof #derek #izsak #i feel like i should apologize in advance lol brace yourself for this one #i'll do my best not to make you guys wait another year for the followup lmfao

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