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sashi-ya · 3 years

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{+18} - Law x Fem Best Friend ♥ CH.2

♥ Daily living with the Heart pirates crew AU ♥ Spoilers after Dressrosa Arc. Law´s backstory. ♥ Female reader. Little physical description. Everybody is 18+, canon ages. ♥ TW: Nightmares related to PTSD. Little NSFW. no further warnings. If you think I should include some feel free to tell me ♥Thank you for the likes and follows, I appreciate it them so so much! If you wanna know when I’ll be updating the next chapters, you can follow me on Twitter @LawIsMyWaifu, come interact I love to have mutuals that love Law and One Piece as much as I do ♥

Word count: 4.1K

» List of parts: {CH1} {CH2} {CH3} {CH4} {CH5} «

Chapter 2.

The sound of his low, raspy voice resonated all over my head, making my body react instantly. I gasped as I felt a strike of pleasure travelling down my stomach to in between my legs. Closing my eyes, unable to move, I didn’t want to move, I wanted him to keep whispering, to kiss my neck… “Hahahaha, I’m sorry, I’m just fooling around, your face, you look astonished Y/N-ya”, he said while laying back on the bed, laughing. I chuckled as I stood up brushing my clothes as if I was trying to fix them. “Stop it, I’m not into that you ass. Goodnight”, I said trying to dissimulate how agitated and embarrassed I was.

Almost running, I left the room, directly to mine, holding on my hand my underwear. I jumped to my bed resting violently on my back. “WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?” ... a little time passed until I passed out.

Hard knocks on my door woke me up. “Vice-Captain!! wake up! breakfast is ready!!!” Clione shouted from the corridor. “God damn how many times I have to tell this whole crew I fucking hate being awakened with shouting?” I mumbled annoyed, covering my face with the sheets.

I was brushing my hair when I remembered my “memory box” for some reason. Opened my drawer and found the little velvet red box that holds my “treasures”. Inside, there is a photo of my parents with me when I was 7, happy, eating some ice cream with them. It was taken during one of “the white parades”, on Flevance, before everything turned into hell. A little blue bow that my little sister used to wear, some photos of Law, Bepo, Shachi, Penguin and me when we were the only members of our crew. And, a necklace Law made with some seashells as a gift for my 15th birthday, were also inside.

I got watery eyes while looking at it, “I must be getting old”, I thought, “I got emotional over the memories” ... laughed and put everything back to its place.

“Morning..” I said, greeting the whole crew that was already devouring their breakfast. I noticed Law wasn’t there, so I had to ask. Uni told me he was in the control room preparing for the arrival at the next island. I took a few pancakes and some tea and headed to the control room to ask my captain if he needed help.

“Good morning, doc”, I saluted him. Law that was seated facing the controls, turned the chair to look at me nodding. He has more dark circles as always, so I asked him, “Oi, did you sleep last night? are you feeling sick again?”. “I’m ok, I didn’t get much sleep last night. I got caught up with the book I was reading”, he answered with his usual unfriendly tone. “Yeah, right” I answered back, rolling my eyes, and proceeded “Let me know if you need something before we get to the island”. Left the control room and went back to my room.

I knew him well to know he hadn't slept because something was worrying him, and not because he was reading the old comic book of “Sora, the warrior of the sea against the evil Germa 66”. But hey, Law never shows any emotion besides annoyance if he is not sick.

A few hours later, the submarine got to the shore of some winter island, and we all got ready to accomplish our assigned tasks. “Ok everyone, we will meet here at 7 pm, is that clear?” told my crew members, everybody agreed and headed to the island.

The temperature was pretty low, and it was snowing. Law was wearing the long black coat with yellow dots and our Jolly Roger that he used to wear at Punk Hazard, his hat and of course the Kikoku over his shoulder. I love when he wears warm clothing, he looks so cozy, hiding his mouth behind the collar. (He does it so his lips don’t get chapped with the cold breeze, haha). I don't like to wear the boiler-suit when we get to explore islands, so I decided to wear a long yellow coat with a hood, also with our crew's Jolly Roger emblazoned on the left side of the chest.

We asked a few civilians where to find a pharmacy and headed to the destination following their instructions. Law didn’t say much during the walking, as he normally does.

The island seemed a little bit deserted, yet it had picturesque streets, full of colour that stand out from the snow. It has cobbled lanes, some canals of crystallized water, there were wooden houses and shops with little lights that garnished their architecture giving the place a romantic aura. The scenery behind the city center included big snowed mountains and a big castle over one of the highest peaks.

I saw a boutique with some cute sweaters on display that caught my eyes and I wanted to try them on. “Law, would you mind if I enter here? I want to buy a new sweater.”, I said. Law looked at me and made a gesture with his hand as he was saying to go ahead.

While searching for the sweater I like on one of the clothing racks I saw through the shop window that a few kids approached the captain. The seller asked me if I needed some help, so I stopped looking at him and l directed my gaze to the girl in the shop. So, I forget about him.

After buying two cute pullovers, we continued walking through the picturesque streets.

When we finally arrived at the pharmacy shop, it seemed like it was closed, but the door was open, so we entered. I rang the bell over the counter and waited for someone to show up. Law walked in front of me and had his hand over his sword. I knew he was alert and trying to protect me even if he didn’t say a word. I didn’t think we could be in danger, yet he never fully relaxes when we are outside. After all, he is one of the most wanted pirates of our generation, so it's understandable he trusts no stranger.

After a minute or so, an old lady approached the counter from the inside of the store. She seemed a little weak and perhaps a little sick. She coughed, covering her mouth with a handkerchief, and then greeted us. “Good afternoon, how can I help you?”, she asked. Law handed her a list of supplies we needed, and we waited. “Oi, don’t you think she looks bad? I mean, she is probably sick, should I ask if she is ok?”, I told Law who gave me a disapproving sight. I rolled my eyes, and said, “Fiiiine…”, “You know that I hate you rolling your eyes at me, you did it yesterday and now too. Stop it.” I looked at him with an “excuse me?” face and while I was about to spit an insult to him the granny appeared. “I’m sorry, I put on the bag some of the supplies, but I don’t have everything you need. We are short on medicines'', she informed us and started coughing harder. “Excuse me, Mrs. Are you alright? are you sick?”, I asked as she seemed to lose composure from all the nagging coughing. Law, that hated when I don’t give a fuck about what he had just said, gave me the look of death. “Oh young lady, we are pretty much sick, a strange illness is hitting the island. Even the only doctor in town fell ill. The orphanage, though, is getting the worst part. All of the kids are bedridden”, as she said, the memories of Flevance and the amber lead disease hit me.

Law's expression changed to a more compassionate one and asked about the symptoms they were experiencing. He might be serious, he might not want to get involved in a lot of things, but he is a true doctor. And he can't let people die if he can help.

We decided to visit the orphanage in hopes of helping the sick people, so we asked the old lady to give us directions to it. She said it was pretty far from the city center and told us her husband would take us there with his cart.

"Thank you so much for offering your help, young doctors", said the old lady's husband that later told us his name was Gerald. The cart was pulled by two brown percheron horses that opened their way through the white landscape.

We had a small talk during the journey, until Gerald asked, "how long have you been together? Are you already married?". Despite the freezing cold weather, my cheeks turned to fire, and I could sense Law hiding his head even more into his coat and hat. Almost as if clarifying that we were no couple was a life or death situation I said, "WE ARE JUST BEST FRIENDS!". I realized I almost shouted and felt mortified. Gerald looked at us with a little smirk and kind eyes, excusing himself for the mistake.

A few minutes after we arrived at the orphanage. It took us almost 30 minutes to get there and the sun was starting to set on the horizon.

When we entered the place, the situation was worse than we thought. There were kids and adults lying on the ground, some of them shivering, others coughing while others were straight unconscious. A few nurses were working in order to maintain them, but the situation had clearly surpassed them.

Immediately Law and I started working. While I helped the nurses, Law used his ope ope no mi power to scan the bodies of the sick people.

We got to the conclusion that what they were suffering was a type of bacteria that caused the respiratory symptoms and the fever.

During our duty, there were times when our eyes interlocked, and we smiled at each other. I wouldn't say we like people suffering, but, we certainly enjoyed working to save lives together.

A few hours passed since we arrived there, the sun was already set, and outside it seemed as if a snowstorm was beginning. I've lost track of time until my portable Den Den Mushi started to ring. "Oi, y/n, where are you? Is Law with you? Are you alright? We've been waiting for you on the shore! It's 9 pm already and we were supposed to meet at 7!", shouted Shachi from the other side of the line. "Oh my God I'm sorry I forgot to tell you!... you see …" I explained to them what we've been doing and that we were probably not going to return to the submarine in a few more hours.

The kids and the other people began to get better and those who were helping there offered us some food that we accepted happily.

While we were having dinner, Gerald got back from outside, who's been in the forest collecting some firewood. He informed us that the weather was getting really bad so coming back to town would be pretty dangerous.

Law and I agreed that staying there for the night was the safer choice.

One of the nurses, Sister Alley, told us we could spend the night in the cabin next to the orphanage. "I'm really sorry guys, I wished we had a better place for you, we owe you so much. The cabin has a fireplace, Gerald would start a fire to keep you warm”, she said. We both smiled at her and thanked for it.

We walked some meters through the forest until we started to catch sight of a wooden cabin. Despite being a strong pirate, I’m the queen of the clumsy people, so I slipped off with what I assume was an ice patch on the already snowy ground. I was about to hit the ground when Law grabbed me by the waist and saved me from a few bruises. His face in front of mine, the feeling of being safe on his arms, I wished it has been eternal. But the romantic moment was destroyed by Law mocking me. “It must be the devil fruit; how come you are so clumsy? Be careful”, he said, and I told him to shut up, this time I wasn’t embarrassed, but I was almost angry at him.

“Here we are, let me help you with the fire”, Gerald said, opening the wood door that creaked as it moved. The inside felt cozy, there were a few cushions and pillows on the ground next to the fireplace. There were no separate rooms, so in the middle of the lounge there was some kind of mattress with a few blankets over it. Our “host” asked for forgiveness about the lack of separate beds, but Law intercepted him and said, “It’s ok sir, we are grateful to have a warm place to stay until tomorrow. If you need help with any patient during the night, just please tell us”. It might be ok for you, damn Law. Was I supposed to sleep with him? - I mean, I wanted to, but, he was still my best friend, and those thoughts should have been erased.

Gerald wished us a good night and returned to the main building.

I hung my coat and as I love to explore, I started to do so around the little wooden house. The kitchen seemed really equipped, so I grabbed a kettle and some cups. Gerald was kind enough to give us some tea bags, so I thought making some tea was a great idea.

Law was next to the fireplace, wearing only a sweater and his jeans. Apparently he has already hung up his coat and his white spotted hat. I saw him once more with a lost sight that seemed to contemplate the firewood.

Looking at him with my face resting on my arm that was over the breakfast nook, I got lost worshiping his profile. I’ve always adored his upturned nose, his spiky black hair, his facial hair, the contrast between his grey eyes and the tanned skin. How come he has always been so handsome, but I’ve never seemed to fully realize?.

The whistle of the kettle intensified as the water started boiling, but I was so into admiring my best friend's beauty that I didn’t notice. Law turned to me and woke me up from my reverie shouting “Oi, Y/N, the kettle!”. My stupid smile quickly erased from my face, and my whole skin turned red. “Sorry”, I said straight away and turned off the burner.

I served two cups, noticing that the tea has an amazing scent. I believe it was hibiscus mixed with some other spices, perhaps some cardamom and maybe a little hint of clover. The smell of the tea mixed with the slightly one from the logs burning, was wonderful.

I walked to where my captain was, “Here, I think you may like it”, I said and handed him a cup. Our fingers brushed softly when grabbed the tea, he looked at me and said “Thanks”. I sat not so near him over one of the cushions and sipped a little bit of my tea. Law looked at me and stood up from his place. I could sense how awkward he felt when he made a little pause, and then walked away.

Why is he leaving? Did I make him feel uncomfortable?, I asked myself trying to hide little stings of pain on my chest that traveled to my throat. Somehow I felt like crying, and when my eyes started to get slightly watery, Law approached me placing his hand over my right shoulder.

I turned my face to him, looking up with a slightly pouty face. I was about to cry, and I didn’t even know why when I noticed a blue little box on his hand.

He sat next to me and said, "Do you remember when we were 15?, that day when I gave you that necklace I made myself for your birthday? I looked at him confused but I answered, "yes, of course, I got it on my memory box, I'm afraid to wear it outside the polar cause it might get lost and I wouldn't forgive myself if I lose it". He was now looking at the little box moving it around nervously and finally said "I got you a better one". He handed me the little box still not looking at me.

"A present?? OMG Law, thank you very much!" When did you buy it??" I almost shouted in excitement while opening the box. Inside there was a fine rose gold necklace that has a little anatomical heart figure as a pendant. I grabbed it and admired the beauty of the jewelry I had in my hands. The heart had a little red stone crimped on it, that shined with every movement.

"Law, this is too much! It must have cost you a lot of Berries, I don't deserve such a fine jewel!, thank you so much", I expressed with a big smile on my face.

"You do deserve more than this, you know. I'm glad you like it", he said, a little embarrassed. “When you were buying the sweaters, I asked some children there if they knew a jewelry store, turned out it was just around the corner”, he confessed.

“Thank you so much, it is just perfect! You know how I adore hearts; they remind me of you.. “Doctor Heart Stealer”” I almost shouted, realizing I have said too much…

I tried to put it on my neck, but I couldn’t clip it right, so I asked him for help. He stood up, kneel at my back and passed from behind the necklace around my neck.

Some branches hit the window violently as they were suffering the merciless wind of the snowstorm outside.

He struggled a little and finally fastened the collar and when he did, the electric power went off. The fireplace was the only source of light, the dance of the fire created figures with shadows and highlights all around the walls of the cabin. We remained silent, maybe a little scared or even surprised, but enjoying the sound of the weather and the creak of the fire.

He was still behind me, and after a few seconds he placed a soft kiss on my back that sent a shiver through my spine. Once again I was unable to speak, did he… did he just kiss my back?.. Before I could say or do something Law stood up and headed to one of the windows. “The storm seems to be even worse than earlier; don’t you think?”, he said, trying to device something through the window.

I couldn’t focus on anything else than the kiss he softly planted on my nape, minutes ago. He suddenly yawned and walked to the mattress that was in the center of the room, on the floor. He then took his jeans off and hopped inside the bed, naturally. I remained on my spot, contemplating his actions. “How could he be acting so normal?, I’m right here. He just gave me a necklace, kissed my skin and now he just goes to sleep?” I said to myself, still with a confused expression on my face.

“Oi, aren’t you coming to bed?”, he asked me, freely. “Yes… give me a second”, I said, and ran to the bathroom. The toilet was pretty tiny and basic, but enough for me to hide for a few minutes. “Come on, Y/N you slept with him two nights ago, it’s ok, he is like your brother, it’s ok…” I thought, trying to calm myself down.

I finally left my hiding place and headed to the mattress. Law was lying there, he took off his sweater, probably while I was in the bathroom, so he was only using a white tight undershirt, that molded his torso anatomy. Some blankets were covering the under part of his body from his hips. He had his forearm over his eyes, covering them with his neck stretched back.

I bite my lip, as a reaction for such a tempting scene. I was enjoying it, watching him breathe peacefully. I started feeling hot, so I took off the sweater but not my jeans and approached the “bed”.

I thought Law was already asleep, so I got in bed trying not to wake him up. I muffled myself up with the sheets. I remained still, hearing the snowstorm, fixing my eyes on the wooden ceiling, as the memories of my childhood flooded my mind. It must be the snowstorm, the wind, the cold that triggered these memories. eventually I fell asleep.

“No, stop it, my family, leave us alone!!!!”, I screamed. “Y/n-ya! Y/n-ya!, wake up!” said Law, pulling me out from the terrific oneiric world I was submerged in. I got lost into his eyes, and remained there with tears streaming from my eyes, rolling into my cheeks. Law was holding me close to his body around his arms. “Are you having those nightmares, again? why didn’t you tell me?”, he asked, worried. “This is the first time in ages, I think it must be the storm, perhaps the orphanage, the children…”, I expressed amid tears. My best friend brushed his tattooed fingers through my hair, moving it out of my face, and then wiped the tears from my cheeks.

“Oi, do you remember what happened when I gave you the first necklace?” he asked, trying to distract me. A feeling of warmth invaded my insides, suddenly I felt happy. “I do...” I said, laughing timidly, and continued, “It was my first kiss”. He smiled back at me, and said, “Mine too”.

For a second we both closed our eyes. I was grabbing the pendant with my left hand cherishing it and the memories of our younger days when we kissed for the first time. We haven't had much time to think about love while striving to survive so we forgot about it, letting the days, months and years pass, leaving the experience as a mere child’s play.

Suddenly we started laughing, Law didn't let go of me, and our faces were pretty close. “Everything's better when you laugh, I hate it when you cry, it makes me so sad…” he said, rubbing his thumb over my right cheek. I stopped laughing, as he got even closer. Almost as if the point of our noses were about to touch. I could feel the warmth of his breath over my lips, and he did too. My heart started racing, and the only thing I could hear was the blood pumping on my ears. I wasn’t moving, I wanted him to kiss me, I wanted to kiss him… I just didn’t care that he was my best friend, I just needed him to kiss me. What is taking him so long? Why am I not moving if I wanted this more than anything?. After a good minute, that felt eternal, he exclaimed “Fuck it”, and plant the sweetest kiss over my lips. A feeling of happiness filled my insides, I’ve never been so joyful in ages, it felt the same way as the first time. I was like a teenage girl experimenting love for the first time. Both smiled still with our lips pressed. I doubted for a second if succumbing to my deepest desires was the right thing to do until he decided to turn the cute kiss into a more passionate one. From then on, the desire I’d been accumulating inside of me took control of my body…

We kept on kissing; Law slid a hand under my shirt timidly caressing the skin of my tummy. The kisses migrated from my mouth to my neck, mixed with little bites that surely would turn into hickies tomorrow.

“Law…” I gasped when his hands reached my breasts. “What?” he replied, whispering next to my ear and pinching one of my nipples in between two fingers…

Chapter 3

Ch1: Link

#Trafalgardwaterlaw #one piece law #law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #Trafalgar law x reader #one piece x reader

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jokertrap-ran · 3 years

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(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 2-5: 时间针脚 The Patchwork of Time Translation

“What are you standing around in a stupor for? See a ghost?”

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Main story tag will be #For Light and Night

Behind the glass wall were several blurry figures busying around.

MC: This should be Team A's area.

Mya had suddenly called a few minutes ago to give me directions to the place I was supposed to report to.

I ran what I was going to say to everyone, in the form of an introduction, through my head once more before gently clearing my throat and opening the door.

❖☆———————————★❖

MC: Hello everyone, I'm—

Thunk!

The sound of metal heavily hitting the floor cut my words short as the handle of the door completely fell off.

MC: !?

Did I break it? No way! I broke the office's door on my first day here!?

I didn't quite know what to do for a while. One of the figures closest to the door turned slightly around at the noise.

He had a head full of spiky hair, like that of a hedgehog. He didn't spare even a glance at the door handle; instead, his gaze fell directly upon my person. He shot up from the seat of his workstation.

??: Yoooooou!!

MC: Sorry! It wasn't on purpose, I swear!

??: You're the newcomer that's supposed to be coming in today, right? Sister Zheng Lin, we've got an extra hand!

He excitedly yelled at the other end of the office.

This isn't quite turning out like how I imagined it to be...

Summoned by his yell, a plump woman speed-walked towards us. Her smile was friendly, but there was a sort of unconcealable exhaustion marring her features.

Zheng Lin: Hello. Welcome to Team A. I'm the leader, Zheng Lin.

MC: Hello. Um… I accidentally broke your door handle just now… Sorry…

??: Aw, that thing's been dead half a month ago. We just didn't have time to call someone down to fix it. Don't mind it, yeah?

??: C'mere. I'll bring you to your workstation. Your stuff looks pretty heavy. I'll take it for you, yeah?

He enthusiastically takes the office appliances I'd brought in from my hands and continues walking straight ahead.

Zheng Lin: That works too. I'll leave you to bring her around to meet the others then, Brother Mao. I'll come over once I'm finished up here.

I nodded, following after "Brother Mao".

Brother Mao: I'm Mao Ge, but you can call me Brother Mao! The best rock singer among all Designers here!

He grinned, pulling out a chair and gesturing for me to sit. He then magicked out a rag from god-knows-where and quickly gave the table a wipedown.

Brother Mao: You were 2nd place in the contest, right? We all watched the broadcast; it was absolutely brilliant.

Brother Mao: Especially when you chose Director Qi of all people. Boy, that was a killer! How did you dare to pick him?

Brother Mao: Forget his face, even his breath alone is an icy sub-zero.

Brother Mao: Ever seen an iron tree bloom? I'd say even that's slightly more common than seeing Director Qi smile.

Brother Mao: I'm not talking about his cold smiles, of course. We see that way too often.

MC: Eh? … I just thought getting him to review my work was a rare chance that I couldn't pass up on.

Brother Mao: You go, girl! Looks like we've finally got a competent person in Team A! Feel free to ask me anything if you face any problems in the future! I've gotcha covered!

He grinned, patting himself on the chest to further emphasize his point. He'd already assembled and laid out all of my office appliances on the table at some point in our conversation.

Brother Mao: Alright, everyone! Put everything down. Let me introduce to you our new buddy, (Y/n)!

All the people around me nodded in greeting as Brother Mao introduced them to me one-by-one.

Brother Mao: The one dressed in a Cheongsam is Li Man'man. She came here a minute earlier than you and braved through 3 interviews just to enter Warson.

Li Man'man: Hi, nice to meet you.

Brother Mao: And that's Chen Che, our team's tailoring genius. He's been here for nearly 4 years and has just been promoted to a Senior Designer.

The guy named Chen Che raised his head from the multitude of fabric surrounding him. He adjusted his glasses and gave me a wary look.

Chen Che: Hello.

It was at this moment in time that a guy sporting a quiff hairdo walked past us. His head was haughtily raised and his expression was one of utter disdain.

Man With Quiff Hairstyle: Hmph.

MC: And he is…?

Brother Mao: Don't mind him. He's an annoyance. He just failed the promotion test and is being the green-eyed monster to everyone right now.

I only nodded, not knowing what to say.

Brother Mao: That one over there's Hao Shuai, the trendsetter of Team A and also the King of Werewolf games.

Hao Shuai: Wanna play Werewolf? I'll host one next time, but not now...

Hao Shuai buried his face with a sullen expression as Brother Mao quietly pulled me aside to a corner.

Brother Mao: He's not been in too jolly of a mood these few days. He didn't manage to get promoted to Senior Designer, so he's been pretty depressed about it.

MC: Sounds like it's very hard to get promoted up a rank...

Brother Mao: Precisely! Although Warson has a rank promotion system in place, the way things are being assessed in them makes it scarily hard! People normally have to do it five or six times before they manage to get themselves promoted.

Brother Mao: And, you might even get demoted a rank if the work you turn in doesn't make the cut!

MC: That strict!?

Brother Mao: I'm a Junior Designer like you. I've already taken the assessment around…

Zheng Lin: 10 times.

Brother Mao: You remember all so well, Sister Zheng Lin.

He gallantly retrieved another chair for Zheng Lin to sit on, seemingly paying no heed to the embarrassing number of tries he'd gone through.

Brother Mao: Don't they say that failure's the mother of success? I just have to get a couple more of those and it'll net me a great success!

I laughed at his joke along with Zheng Lin.

Zheng Lin: Our assessment system is just stricter than others.

Zheng Lin: Even though everyone is free to design whatever they like with their creativity as the limit, becoming an actual Fashion Designer is some serious business.

Zheng Lin: Those capable of joining us here in Warson are all talented individuals. Hence, what's really being tested in those assessments are your passion and perseverance.

Zheng Lin: I've welcomed hundreds upon hundreds of rookies during my 10 years here in Team A, but most of them drop out after failing the assessment 3-4 times.

MC: Eh?

Zheng Lin: Firstly, everyone who first comes here holds high self-esteem, so they're a bit more sensitive to criticism. And it is only natural for people to find it unbearable, especially after having been criticized a lot.

Zheng Lin: Secondly, there's a limit to the type of jobs that can be given to Assistants and Junior Designers, so things often end up being boring and repetitive

Zheng Lin: It's hard to go on like that if you don't have the right sort of determination.

MC: ……

Zheng Lin was about to say more when the door slammed open with a "bang!". Several people stood at the entrance, worry written all over their anxious faces.

Colleague A: Can someone consolidate all of Sliver's Autumn-Winter fabrics into a document?

Colleague A: I still have to go down to the mall and conduct surveys and research so I won't be able to do that in time!

Colleague B: Some trouble cropped up regarding the visas of the foreign models who're slated for a shoot next week, so we need another 18 new ones!

Colleague B: What should I do, Sister Zheng Lin!?

Zheng Lin gave a helpless sigh.

Zheng Lin: I'd originally wanted you to let you get used to things around here, but we have our hands full… Do you mind helping us?

MC: … Sure thing!

Zheng Lin: Then, could you first help us by going to the warehouse and picking up Silver's Autumn-Winter fabrics and consolidating them into a sample book after?

Zheng Lin: You can get Brother Mao to help you check it through once you're done.

I nodded and joined the fray.

Time went by. And finally, I finished my very first task after an hour. Brother Mao told me to take it up to the Team A representative who was in the meeting after checking through it.

❖☆———————————★❖

It was clearly noon soon, yet the doors of the meeting rooms on both sides of the corridor were still tightly shut, I could occasionally hear the sound of loud discussions coming from within.

❖☆———————————★❖

MC: Excuse me, I'm here to deliver the fabric samples.

Pushing the door open, I saw a Designer who was in the middle of loudly explaining his idea while Sariel held a pen, looking down at the document in his hand.

All the other Designers were either listening intently or hurriedly sketching out their new ideas, having been struck by a sudden wave of inspiration. It was almost as if the very air itself was crackling with ideas, going head to head with each other, gathering and merging into a brand new storm of ideas.

I’m going to be taking part in meetings with everyone in the future too… I couldn’t help but jump for joy at the exciting notion.

Placing the fabric catalogue book down, I couldn’t stop myself from taking one last glance at the meeting room before I left.

❖☆———————————★❖

Brother Mao: Oh, right. Don't forget to retrieve the catalogue book once the meeting upstairs is done.

MC: Okay.

❖☆———————————★❖

Everyone left after the meeting ended. I picked up the scattered pieces of fabric, stacking them neatly into a pile. It was only then that I noticed a pen lying on the ground.

The pitch-black pen was see-through, slender, and sturdy, with three gold-stamped petals at the very end.

MC: This is...

An image of Sariel wielding this pen with his head bowed in thought appeared in my mind.

MC: Is this pen his? It certainly suits that icy countenance of his...

❖☆———————————★❖

I bent down to pick it up, but the moment my fingers brushed against it… I suddenly felt an inexplicable sharp jolt of pain piercing my head.

My heart clenched violently, almost as if a nightmare that had been buried deep within its depths was about to be awakened. The stifling feeling of sadness and despair washed over me together with the odd feeling of my heart having been impaled by something.

What’s going on?

I pressed against my chest, trying to get through this sudden bout of pain that came out of seemingly nowhere.

Sariel: What's going on here?

There seems to be a faint voice ringing through my ears. The pen was taken away from me the next moment. Gone with it were the odd sensations.

I blearily looked at Sariel who had suddenly popped up from nowhere, still slightly woozy in the head.

Sariel: What are you standing around in a stupor for? See a ghost?

MC: I don't know what happened to me earlier…

Sariel: That's what I'd like to ask you.

☆Light Choice: Explain what you felt earlier

I shook my head, trying to recall that odd sensation you felt earlier.

MC: I… My chest and head just suddenly started hurting.

MC: I know I’m in the meeting room right now, but it kind of felt as if I wasn’t here at the same time…

MC: Like a nightmare, you can never wake up from…

Sariel’s expression changed minuscule bit upon hearing the word “nightmare”.

Sariel: How about now?

MC: I'm fine now, and the uncomfortable feeling's also gone.

Sariel: Has this happened before?

MC: Once…?

★Night Choice: Conceal what you felt earlier

MC: I just felt a little light-headed… I'm okay now.

MC: Oh, right. I picked up your pen.

I pointed towards the pen that he'd already reclaimed, which was now in his hand. Sariel only frowned.

Sariel: You felt light-headed after picking up this pen?

It was only when he mentioned it that I realized that that seemed to be the case. But what would a pen have anything to do with a bout of dizziness?

Sariel coldly grabs my hand, making my heart stop cold in my chest. However, all he did was stare at it in silence for a few seconds before releasing me just as quickly.

MC: What are you looking at? Is there something wrong with my hand?

Sariel: Nothing. It's well and fine.

What's up with Sariel? Grabbing my hand out of nowhere like that and not even telling me the reason why...

So, I ended up giving my hand a thorough check as well. There was nothing off about it, but I couldn't help feeling a little worried.

I'd also experienced some "auditory hallucinations" back then at the rooftop…

MC: Maybe I should go get myself a check-up at the hospital just in case…

Sariel: You look pretty peppy on your feet to me. Doesn't seem like there's anything physically wrong about you.

His gaze smoothly slides up from my face to the top of my head as he spoke.

Sariel: Though, I can't say the same about the other parts of you.

MC: ……!

I was fuming, yet I didn't dare to express it with a vehement glare. Seeing how riled up I was at it, yet unable to do anything about it, a flicker of a smirk made its way up to a corner of his mouth.

This was my second time seeing him smile today… The iron tree has bloomed…

Sariel: Are there flowers growing on my face?

I shook my head.

Sariel: A ghost then?

I shook my head again.

Sariel: Then why are you looking at me as if you've just seen a monster?

MC: You just smiled. It's too rare of a sight.

Sariel: … How stupid.

He put on a straight face as he pocketed his pen and turned to head out.

Suddenly remembering something, I hurriedly pushed the door open and ran after him.

MC: Wait a minute, Director Qi! Are you free right now?

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 2-3) | Next Part: (Chapter 2-8)

#光与夜之恋 #Light and Night #Otome #Translations #Tencent #萧逸 #Osborn #齐司礼 #Sariel #陆沉 #Evan #查理苏 #Charlie #夏鸣星 #Jesse #For Light and Night

27 notes · View notes

jaeminscoffee · 4 years

Text

You'll be fine.

Pairing- Lee Taeyong x reader.

Genre- Angst, Fluff.

Word count- 1.30k

Warning- Attempt of suicide mentioned, speaks about mental health.

Summary- Taeyong was just afraid of people constantly leaving him. He was scared you'd do the same.

(I just wanted to put this out there that, No matter who you are, no matter what you’re going through, you don’t deserve to end your life. You deserve a second chance in life just like the rest of us. I don’t know who needs to hear this but, i know you’ve been through a lot, and i’m so proud of you for making it this far. I believe in you and i’m there for you. With that being said, please send some positive words to Taeyong! With all that’s been going on in his life, including Ruby’s death, he’s still striving so hard to provide us with new content and i just want him to know how proud we are of him, Rest in peace, Ruby! Your barks will forever remain in our hearts <3)

It's been hard for Taeyong.

He wants to let his emotions out after having kept it in confinement for so long. But he can't seem to get himself to do so. Not even to you who he's known for as long as he could remember.

He's hurt. Deeply hurt.

For Taeyong, his emotions have been something he never paid attention to. He didn't care much. He didn't want to seem like he cared much. He didn't want to be seen as vulnerable to anyone. Not with the constant fear that no one is permanent in life.

He's been good shielding his broken self from all with a dashing smile. But you never failed to notice how empty his smile seemed. How soulless his voice sounded, and how often his eyes would glint sadness hinting he wants someone to hold him.

Taeyong had been hinting about his emptiness himself. He was subtle, obviously. But the constant spacing out during conversations, his health seemingly deteriorating, his hair was always disheveled and the dark circles were getting even prominent as days passed by.

Each time you'd get the topic up, he'd brush it off. 'i just didn't get enough sleep last night', 'i don't know', 'I'm fine really', 'training was just hard', had always been his reply.

One thing that gave away his mental health was how he was constantly skipping school. The once jolly, teacher's pet who got nothing but straight A's, the boy who went to school during nation holidays to perform in charity workshops was now one who skipped lectures, would have his head down on the desk during classes, his grade too, seemingly dropping low.

You wanted to be there for him. Of course you would, you are his best friend for a reason. But Taeyong always refused to slip up, not once, not ever. You were worried for him especially since you've known of his thoughts of letting feelings show being a sign of weakness.

To say you could feel your heart shatter at what you're seeing right now is an understatement.

Having not seen Taeyong for over weeks at lecture, at your usual hang out spot, at the place you'd both usually go to to cool off your mind, you decided to make your way towards his studio apartment.

He wouldn't pick up the call, neither would he even see your texts. You were worried shitless. You were so glad you had the spare keys to his apartment since he refused to open the door no matter how much you knocked on it.

"Tae..?" you called out once you entered the house, getting no reply, you made your way around each corner of the house, determined to search for him. "Tae, where are you-"

"Taeyong!" you screamed out, your best friend on the floor beside the guest rooms bed, holding what seemed like a shard of glass close to his wrist as you immediately ran towards him, taking it out of his hands with great force not caring when the sharp object pierced through your skin.

Having thrown it to the side of the messy room, you engulf him in a tight embrace as he refused to meet your gaze, shoulders shaking softly with each sob he let out.

"It's okay, you can cry.. " you say silently, as you hold him, registering at the back of your mind to go off on him later for what he'd just tried doing.

Minutes of nothing but crying in silence, the thought of almost losing your best friend having tears roll down your cheeks too as you tighten your grip around him.

"I'm sorry.. " You start. You push yourself front further as Taeyong buried his face into the nape of your neck.

"I'm sorry, I really am Tae, but.. Why? Did you not think of how many people you would've hurt by what you were about to do..?" you feel him shake even violently. With all the strength he could muster, he tugs at your shirt, making you pull away from him. He quickly wipes his tear stained face before speaking up after moments of silence.

"For once, i didn't want to think about others feelings, was that too selfish of..- too selfish of me?" he choked out, looking straight at the wall in front of him, "For once, i didn't want to care about what others would feel. For once, I wanted to take away what's been hurting me, for once and for all."

"what's been hurting you?" you ask with a soft tone, afraid he'd break if you spoke any louder.

"Me."

"Huh?" you turn to face him to hear him clearer.

"I've been hurting myself."

"Talk to me Tae, that really isn't helping. Tell me how you've been hurting yourself?" he stays silent

"I'm not a stranger Tae.. You know you can speak to me, right?" you look at him intently, hoping he'd look back.

"Don't."

"Don't what? Don't try getting to know what's going on in your mind?" you snap, making sure to still keep the volume down.

"Just, stop trying. Don't even try to get inside my head. It's too dark for you." He turns away from you, not wanting to see the look of disbelief.

"and so? So what if it's a dark place?" you question.

"So don't try getting into it. You'll get hurt..-"

"And you think it hurts me less knowing that my friend is in pain all by himself?" Taeyong visibly flinches at the question. "you think you keeping it to yourself will make it any easier for me? You said you want to disregard others feelings for once! Do it. Don't care if it hurts me or not if that means you'll let me in."

"It won't get any better if i say it out loud or not, Y/n. What's the use of letting you in then." his voice cracked half way as he stifled his cries. "It won't get better, i know. But you'll at least know you're not alone in suffering if you let me in." you say in the most convincing tone you could let out.

"I've lost enough people showing them this side of mine Y/n-..they all said the same, that they're there for me. The more I showed them this side, the more distant they became. I can't afford to lose anyone anymore, Y/n --I've hurt enough. I want it to stop and I've tried everything, and still, -till date, I'm trying, all the time, trust me. But no matter how much I try to ignore my feelings, the worst it gets, it's just too hard."

"You don't have to ignore your feelings, Tae. You really don't. Live them out the moment you feel it instead of pushing it away to the side." you start once you made sure he's completely done speaking out.

"The more you keep them in, it gets worse, just like you said. It won't get better if you ignore it.-" you turn your body to embrace him once again.

"For all those who left you after you trusted them with your vulnerable side, they're terrible people. It's a good thing they left you then, they didn't deserve attention from someone as precious as you. "

You feel Taeyong relax under your touch as he finally let himself wrap his hands around you, sobbing out louder, not holding back this time. "I know you Tae. You're a strong person. A really, really strong person. You don't have to tell me anything just yet, but next time you feel like doing anything, please don't hesitate to call me. Talk to me. Talk to the walls. Talk to yourself. Do anything that'll allow you to say out your thoughts loud." you caress his back in a comforting manner.

"You'll be fine, You're strong. I know you will-.."

"I believe in you, Taeyong."

102 notes · View notes

merakiaes · 4 years

Text

A Second Chance - John Shelby

Pairing: John Shelby x reader

Requested: Yes.

Prompts: None.

Warnings/notes: This is a part two to “A Choice”. It’s not proofread and I was severely sleep-deprived when writing this so I apologize in advance if there are any mistakes or if it sucks xD

Wordcount: 4927

Summary: Four years after leaving John and the Peaky Blinders behind to start a better life, you return to England and run into old friends.

Part One - A Choice

Life without John was just as painful as you had imagined it to be. The nightmares about your brother’s death that only he had been able to keep at bay had returned already the first night away from him, having you wake up screaming and drenched in sweat in the middle of the night.

After leaving your shared home without as much as a bag of clothes, you had gone straight to London where Ada was residing with Karl, and she had opened up her home to you without as much as a doubt, letting you cry into her arms, listening to you as you talked about your situation and doing her absolute best to soothe you during the night.

The next day, you had sat down and talked about what you were going to do for the future. She offered to go back to Small Heath and talk to her family, get their assistance on the divorce you wanted.

But she was different than the rest of them. She was on your side, he didn’t agree with her brothers’ morals and ways to make a living.

Tommy had never liked your attitude for the business and more specifically John’s part in it, and Arthur didn’t breath without his younger brother’s consent, so you knew that that going to them for help would never be an option.

And either way, all of them held the same belief; that no one divorced a Shelby. So Ada did the only thing she could.

She gave you some of her clothes, helped arrange your travels, gave you enough money to be able to live on wherever you ended up, until you could find yourself a job, and sent you off before John and the rest of the Peaky Blinders could come looking for you.

Ironically, they came knocking at her door only an hour after you had bid each other goodbye at the docks, John more or less storming inside the house and rushing through every room on the look for you while Tommy, Arthur and Polly tried to hold a calm conversation with Ada.

But Ada wasn’t about to give up your location, and they knew it. And they couldn’t do anything about it, because they didn’t have anything to hold against her.

All she did was tell them that you were safe, and that you were better off without the constant death and bloodshed, which only broke John’s heart even further, because even though he hadn’t been willing to admit it at the moment of your argument, he knew that she was right, and it hurt.

It hurt to know that he wasn’t good for you.

And he wasn’t the only one in pain. The nightmares of only your brother dying quickly turned into both of them dying, and sometimes, even Tommy and Arthur, too. And the dreams didn’t stop.

Even three and a half years later, you would wake up drenched in your own sweat and trembling with fear every night.

You had ended up in Australia after a long, long journey. There, you took up work as a nurse at an orphanage, managing to land yourself employment already on your first day there as the former nurse had recently passed away in very tragic circumstances.

You mourned the loss of the love of your life, even more so when you had to work with children all day, every day; children that could have been yours and his in the future.

Every time you would sign your name on a paper, your heart would break a little more, as you still carried his name seeing as you hadn’t gotten an official divorce.

And you couldn’t be bothered to send him divorce papers, knowing very well that Tommy would most likely be able to track you to your locations by sniffing the papers like the absolute bloodhound he was.

You stayed completely miserable for six whole months, falling into a deep depression and feeling that life no longer had anything to offer as you had no one left.

But with a bit of encouragement from your new-found friends, you pulled yourself together and sought out your own happiness, adopting two of the very children you had been caring for in the past months.

Their names were Sheryl and Henry and they were siblings.

Sheryl was a seven-year-old girl with bronzed skin and a head of big, golden curls and dimples that could make anyone melt on the spot.

They had been made orphans when their parents had passed away in sickness four years prior, but despite the unfortunate lives they held, Sheryl was one of the brightest souls you had ever met.

Henry was nine at the time, a lot paler than his younger sister and a lot more reserved and careful.

While Sheryl never seemed to be able to sit still, always having to run around and talk to everyone she came across, Henry was quiet and loved to sit in silence and read.

He was far too mature for his age and probably smarter than you. He had an amazing way with words and wanted to become a doctor when he grew up. He was also very good with numbers, which always made you think of John.

They made your life easier, and soon, although never stopping to love John, you found yourself moving on. You packed away the jewelry you had been wearing upon first arriving in Australia, that John had gifted you throughout the years, and hid it away along with everything else that reminded you of him.

Four years had passed since you left Small Heath. Sheryl was now eleven and Henry thirteen, the three of you living an as normal life as you could get.

You had kept in contact with Ada during the first year, but after that, you had stopped receiving letters, and you guessed they just kind of forgot about you.

But you didn’t blame them.

You probably should have forgotten them a long time ago, too. But for some reason, despite not regretting your decision, you didn’t.

But you knew you would have been a lot more mentally damaged if you had to watch John die. So this was the best for everyone.

And you liked it in Australia. You liked the heat, the nature, the people, and most of all; the calm. Bar fights and brawls on the streets was still something you saw every once in a while, but the violence wasn’t half as bad here as it had been in Birmingham.

But you could only stand the heat and sun for so long.

Four years after your arrival, you took the kids with you and left for London, starting a new chapter in your lives.

Seeing as you hadn’t heard anything from Ada the past few years, you had no idea what she was up to these days.

After getting settled into the inn you would be staying at for the first week in London, just until you made up your mind whether you would be staying permanently or only for a while, you headed off to Ada’s old house with the kids in tow, taking them out sight-seeing on the way.

Upon arriving, however, a woman you had never seen before opened the door, and informed you that the woman who had lived there before her had moved to America with her son a year prior.

It saddened you that you wouldn’t be able to see her and introduce her to Henry and Sheryl, but you were happy she had been able to go off into the world on her own like she had always wanted.

You could admit you were anxious to run into any of the other Shelbys, knowing you’d have to introduce them to your children, but unlike when you had first left England when the Peaky Blinders had been on everyone’s tongues, you hadn’t heard a single word about them.

It made you slightly panicked, fear that they had finally met their ruler and gotten themselves killed filling your body, but you didn’t dare ask anyone about it, scared about what you might have found out if you did.

So you just put on a brave smile, showing the kids around the capital of your home country, the three of you having a jolly good time.

You had just entered the food market, the very same one that had been there every Thursday even back when you still lived there, and Henry and Sheryl had run off to the nearby kennel to pet the puppies running around outside in a small enclosure.

While they played with the small balls of fur, you took the opportunity to stroll along the stands of food and vegetables, starting to plan dinner for the evening to come.

You collected the things you thought you would be needing and paid for them, packing them in a brown fabric bag. You turned on your heel, still fiddling with the bag in your hands, when a voice suddenly spoke from right beside you.

“(Y/N)?”

You sucked in a breath at the familiar voice speaking your name, with the same smooth tone that you had fallen in love with all those years ago.

Your heart instantly picked up speed in your chest and you breathed shakily as you slowly turned around.

“John.” You breathed, your eyes growing big with disbelief as you spotted him, your heart beating even more violently once you caught sight of him.

And he was just as shocked as you were, looking as pale as if he had just witnessed a ghost.

“(Y/N). I-“

“(Y/N)? Is that you?” Another voice joined the conversation before John had the chance to say whatever it was he had been about to say.

The shock quickly melted off and was replaced with a wide smile as a now short-haired Polly emerged from the crowd in the market.

“Polly!” You greeted her, and she smiled a smile to match your own.

“Oh! It’s so good to see you!” She said, wasting no time in taking you into a hug.

You hugged her back, growing sad at the familiar feeling of the motherly love you had gotten from her all while knowing her niece and nephews.

As you broke apart again, she threw a look over her shoulder, waving her hand. “Boys!”

There was no doubt in your mind who she was calling for, and not even half a minute later, Tommy, Arthur and another boy you couldn’t quite recognize emerged from the crowd, as well.

Arthur was the one to spot you first, and a cheeky grin immediately spread on his face. “Well, I’ll be damned.” He cursed, shaking his head. “If it isn’t (Y/N). It’s good to see you nice and well, lass.”

“Hello, Arthur.” You chuckled, accepting the embrace he offered upon reaching you, hugging him quickly before turning to look at Tommy.

You offered him a smile and a nod of your head. “Tommy.” You acknowledged, and he tipped his head back to you, taking the cigarette out of mouth to answer.

“(Y/N). You’re looking good.”

Offering him a smile, you thanked him. “Thank you.”

You then turned to the third boy, or young man, was better suited, narrowing your eyes slightly as you scanned his freckled face, trying to find something familiar that could put a name to his person.

And it all fell into place when you caught the small scar on the side of his lips, a smile yet again rising to your lips.

“Finn?”

The boy in question nodded his head, a faint smile pulling at his lips, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“You look so different, I barely even recognized you!” You said, and met him halfway for a hug. He was now taller than all of his brothers, towering over them with a good margin.

“Yes, well, it’s been a while.” He chuckled, and you could sense immediately that he was nothing like his brothers. But then again, you had known that already when he was just a little boy.

“Four bloody years, it’s been.” Arthur jumped in, laughing slightly.

You stepped back after hugging Finn and opened your mouth to speak again, but before you could get another word out, a shy voice called out from behind you.

“Ma?”

You whipped around, turning to face Henry and Sheryl who were now standing behind you, watching the Shelbys with curious and shy eyes.

You put on a smile, turning to face them completely. “Yes, darling?”

Henry let his eyes linger on the strangers behind you for another moment, before turning to look at you with his soft, careful eyes. “Can we have some money for treats?”

Sheryl was smiling expectedly at his side, and you looked between them, shaking your head. “It’s a Wednesday and you haven’t had dinner yet.”

“Please.” Sheryl begged, pouting and looking up at you with her big eyes, while Henry just kept smiling shyly.

“Just this once?”

You let your eyes shift between them for a moment, all too aware of the Shelbys watching the scene unfold. You sighed, reaching your hand into the pocket of your coat.

“Fine, but just a small bag, yeah?” You told them, fishing out a note form your wool jacket and handing it over to Henry, who instantly lit up in a big smile.

“Yes!” Sheryl cheered, and Henry was quick to nod his head.

“Promise, thanks.” He agreed, coming up to you and leaving a hasty kiss at your cheek before running along to the candy store, Sheryl not far behind, yelling out a quick ‘hello’ at the Shelbys as they passed them.

Watching them disappear into the shop at the other side of the street, you turned back to the Shelbys, who were all looking at you with different expressions.

“You’ve got kids.” Polly was the first one to speak, eyes wide with surprise.

You could only smile, and nod your head in confirmation. “I do.”

“They look a bit old to be yours.” Arthur was confused, glancing over to the shop inside which they had just disappeared.

“I took them in from the orphanage I worked at in Australia.” You told them, and Arthur nodded.

“So that’s where you ended up, ey?”

“Yeah, it was a journey to say the least.” You turned sad at that, thinking back to how rough the first period away from your home and the people you loved had been. Quickly, you shook away the sadness and forced yourself to smile, trying to look your happiest.

“You’re all looking good!” You hurriedly attempted to change the subject. “How have things been going for you?”

“We legitimated the business.” Tommy joined in on the conversation for the first time so far, taking a drag out of his cigarette. “Everything we do now is legal. No underground work, no Peaky Blinders. Just… strictly, political business.”

To say you were shocked at this was a big understatement. Almost as if out of instinct, your eyes shot up to the peaky caps on their heads, and only then did you realize the razor blades were nowhere to be seen. Could they really have given up on the gangster way of life?

You could barely believe your ears.

“I’m glad it’s been going well for you.” You answered, quickly covering up your shock, but as Tommy’s words registered in your mind, your eyes automatically shifted to John, only to find he had already been looking at you with an unreadable expression.

The others watched as the two of you entered a staring competition, completely disconnecting from everything else going on around them – including them.

Polly smiled smugly, inspecting your facial expressions for a moment before hooking her arm with Finn’s. “We’ll leave you to it, then.” She said. “It was nice seeing you again, (Y/N). Come by for tea someday, and bring the little ones.”

You nodded your head, answering. “I will, thank you.”

But not once did you tear your eyes away from John’s as you spoke the words, barely even noticing the others slipping off and down the street again, leaving you to yourselves.

A heavy silence was left over the two of you, only standing there staring into each other’s eyes, completely oblivious to the people shoving their way past you left and right.

The sides of his head were still clean-shaven underneath his cap, he still dressed in the same grey suit, only much fancier and more expensive-looking than the ones he used to wear before you left.

He had a scar running over the side of his jaw, without a doubt created by some kind of blade, and unlike keeping his face clean-shaven like he always had before, he now had a short, short ginger stubble.

He looked much older than he had when you left him, despite only four years having passed, but you guessed the consuming line of work they had been involved in did that to a person.

He still looked good, though. His blue eyes were still sparkling and framed by the long, thick, dark eyelashes you had always loved so much, and his lips were still pink and full. He looked as dashing as ever, standing in front of you a new man.

“You’ve changed.”

John was the first one to break the silence, officially breaking you out of your trance.

But still, you didn’t move your eyes away from his.

“Time changes people.” You stated simply, blinking slightly.

He gave you the smallest nod, sniffling. “Suppose that’s a good thing.”

“Not necessarily, but in my case, yes, I would say so.” You answered, nodding your head too. “I feel very fortunate to be where I am today.”

He said nothing else for a brief moment, only staring at you and suddenly growing very hesitant.

“Did you ever…” He began, trailing off. He breathed in through his nose, his eyelashes fluttering a few times. “Did you ever settle down again? With someone else?”

You had expected the question, probably before he had even thought of it, and wasn’t shocked when it came.

A sad smile rose to your lips at that, and a small sigh left your nose as you shook your head. “No one could ever compare to you, John.” You admitted in a whisper, and at your words, his demeanor faltered entirely.

“I missed you.” He said, taking a small step closer to you. “I still miss you. I never stopped. I never moved on. I tried to, a couple of times, but I couldn’t.”

“John…” You started, feeling your heart picking up speed in your chest again as you watched him come closer and closer. But you didn’t move.

“No, I’m sorry, (Y/N).” He interrupted you, shaking his head. “Everyone told me I would forget you with time but here we are four years later and I still love you like I did back then. And you’re standing here, looking more beautiful than ever, and you moved on.”

“I don’t regret leaving you.” The words came out of your lips before you could stop yourself. “You have to know that.”

Guilt filled your entire body the moment you had said it, only increasing when witnessing his face fall into one of sadness. But it was true what you said. He did have to know it.

“I know. And I understand.” He, surprisingly, agreed. “I started understanding the second I heard you had left for good. I tried to find you, I wanted to come after you and give you what you wanted, but Ada refused to tell me where you were. She said I wasn’t good for you, that you deserved better.”

The guilt started gnawing at you from the inside once more, your eyebrows knotting together. “John-“

“And she was right.” He interrupted again.

You sighed, finally breaking eye-contact and adverting your eyes to the ground as he came to a stop right in front of you.

“John… I don’t know where you’re trying to go with this, but after all this time apart, we would never work. We didn’t back then, and we wouldn’t now.”

“You’re wrong.” He protested almost at once. “I can see why you would think that. But you’re wrong.”

You carefully brought your eyes back up to meet his, biting down on the inside of your cheeks. “I’m happy you’ve all turned your lives around for the better, I really am.” You told him quietly. “And I wish you all the very best, because you deserve nothing less. But I’ve got my own people to look after now.”

“What about me?” He asked. “I know you still love me. I know you better than you know yourself, and if you didn’t love me, you would have walked away long ago.”

“You knew me. Knew.” You corrected him. “But you said it yourself, people change.”

“You have your kids to look after, but you are my people. I want and have to look after you like you look after them, your happiness is all that matters to me.”

You took his words into consideration for a moment, wrapping your arms around yourself and squeezing your eyes shut. But you just couldn’t. Up until this point, you had been under the impression that you had suffered so much because you couldn’t live without him.

But you realized now, as you stood in front of him once again, after four whole years apart, that it was the fact that he had chosen the life as a thug over you that had hurt you the most.

“It didn’t matter back when it should have mattered.” You whispered back finally, having to squeeze your eyes shut even harder in order to keep the tears building up at bay.

Your heart was screaming at you to just grab his face in your hands and kiss him, forgive him for everything and pick everything up where you left off, but after being his second choice once, you just couldn’t trust his words.

Letting out a shaky breath, you opened your eyes and blinked a few times, trying your best to rid of the stinging tears. You looked up at him and gave him one last look.

“It was nice seeing you again, John.” You whispered. “Give Ada my love the next time you see her, yeah?”

He looked down at you, and you swallowed when you realized he was done talking, turning around without another word and starting to head for the candy shop.

Your feet felt like they were made of concrete as you walked, and your heart felt just as heavy in your heart, if not even heavier.

You didn’t know it was possible for an already broken heart to break again, but here you were, feeling the already shattered organ splitting into a thousand pieces once again.

“(Y/N).”

You stopped in your tracks at the sound of his voice calling out your name, your breathing turning slightly shallow and your eyes growing wide.

You knew you should have probably just kept walking, gotten the kids and gotten out of there. You knew the only thing you shouldn’t have done was turn around.

But as he called after you, stopping you from leaving like he hadn’t the first time around, you couldn’t help yourself, your body moving all on its own and turning you back around to face him.

Your eyes met his in an instant, and wordlessly, you watched as he brought his hand up to his neck, reaching inside his collar and pulling out a chain. He grabbed the front of it and gave it a tug, successfully ripping it free from around his neck.

He looked down at the piece of jewelry, fiddling with it for a moment, before holding it up, and your eyes instantly widened at the sight.

“Is that-“ You began, breathless, having to cut yourself short in surprise.

John nodded his head, holding the small ring in between his fingers, slowly walking over to you as he spoke.

“It’s been four fookin’ years since I last saw you but I still love you like I did back then.” He told you, his eyes never leaving your face, and your eyes never leaving the familiar engagement ring.

He stopped in front of you, looking down at you with pleading eyes. “Come home, please.” He begged. “Give me another chance. Give us another chance.”

“John-“

“Mom.” A voice suddenly came from beside you, and both you and John whipped your heads around to find Henry and Sheryl standing off to the side, each of them clutching a bag of sweets in their hands.

Sheryl was giggling quietly to herself, and Henry was smiling at you, giving you once of those looks only Henry could give; the kind that made him look so much older than he really was.

“The appropriate response when the love of your life is proposing to you is to say yes.” He spoke, and you instantly widened your eyes at his words, even more so when Sheryl joined in, nodding her head.

“You should kiss, too.” She said. “It’s in the rulebook.”

You furrowed your eyebrows lightly. “Rulebook?” You mumbled quietly under your breath, thinking to yourself, but didn’t get much time to actually form an answer as John spoke up again.

“You should listen to your kids, (Y/N).” He instructed you, causing you to turn back to look at him. “They might not be yours by flesh and blood but they’ve got your brains.”

You stood frozen, not knowing what do nor say. Were you really ready to rely on John’s promises of making a better living for himself again? After all, you had only bumped into each other less than five minutes ago.

You guessed you could take their word for it, but in reality, you really had no idea what they were up to nowadays. A lot could change for the better over the course of four years, but a lot could have changed for the worse, too.

Having gotten lost in your thoughts and doubts, you had completely missed the way his hands had raised to your face, only coming back to reality when feeling the warm, rough skin of his palms brush against your cheeks.

And when the connection between your skin was made, it was like all of your doubts just melted right off in one second.

You had missed John this entire time, more so than you would ever be able to put into words, but you hadn’t realized how much you had craved his skin against yours until it actually happened again.

Your breath got caught in your throat and your eyes fluttered shut, and as if your body was moving all on its own, you wordlessly tilted your head up to meet him halfway, your lips pressing together within the next second.

And from the moment they touched, you were clinging to each other like there was no tomorrow, like the other would just disappear into thin air if you let go, four years’ worth of missed feeling spilling into one single kiss.

Your hand came up to grab at the back of his neck, fingernails lightly scratching the scalp of his head while his hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you even closer.

You didn’t break apart for almost a minute, lips moving together roughly and desperately. If you would have been able to, you would’ve never broken apart again, but you needed air, and soon had to do so, although very begrudgingly.

Your chests were heaving up and down violently against the other’s when you came apart, eyes opening and staring into each other’s.

You stayed like that for a moment, forehead’s pressed together, until you turned around to look at Henry and Sheryl who were still standing to the side, now grinning like a pair of Cheshire cats.

You raised an eyebrow at the oldest at the two, taking a small step away from John. “Now, what does a thirteen-year-old know about love?” You asked, referring to his previous statement of encouragement.

At your question, his grin only widened. “You have a box labeled ‘John’ hidden at the back of your closet and you stare at it every time you open the wardrobe to pick out your clothes. I may only be thirteen but I’m not stupid.” He answered, and you could instantly feel your cheeks flushing with embarrassment as John chuckled beside you.

You didn’t get much time to dwell upon your adoptive son’s remark, however, as John grabbed a hold of your face once more, turning you back to look at him.

“Will you come back?” He asked, looking down at you with pleading eyes.

And this time, no doubts clouded your mind, a lazy smile spreading over your lips.

“Wouldn’t want to break the rules in the rulebook, now would we?” You questioned playfully and smiled widely as you watched him slide your wedding band back onto your finger.

He smiled, and you could just about make out the corners of his eyes starting to glisten before he wrapped his arms around your waist tightly, hugging you into his chest and burying his face in your neck, smiling into your skin.

“I have a box labeled with your name, too.” He said, voice slightly muffled.

And just like that, you went back to being lovers and remained that way this time around.

#John Shelby #john shelby imagine #john shelby x reader #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinder #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky #blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #arthur shelby #tommy shelby #ada shelby #ada thorne #polly gray #finn shelby #thomas shelby

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kaiju-z · 3 years

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Seon Adventures Episode 38: Bathhouses and Bonds

After a month of travel, successfully retrieving the King’s Blade, Ena, learning who their client is, i. e. Akar’Niel and choosing to learn more about the circumstances of the mass elimination of dwarves and dragonborn on Seon, the party have reached Guan.

And straight off the bat, no pun intended, the group discover they are followed by an imp. After a quick discussion on whether to take it down or not, Malak stils his hand from sending the denizen of Hell back home, as it approaches the group.

Through a quick inspection of the party, the shape changing critter flies over to Mournimar and delivers the Tiefling Ranger a Sending Stone, of a blue diamond make. After which it does a JoJo pose and poofs.

As stated previously, this was a Sending Stone, allowing someone to cast 2 sending messages a day. But only to the person that has the other one. Rocky Talkies, as Malak puts it. (Or Hayden, I’m not sure. They’re both wholesome and we love them).

Mournimar gets that explained to him and calls the person that gifted it to him. And he hears a familiar voice from the other end say " Well you are alive, then!”. Much to the tiefling’s frustration, he recognizes the voice as that of his ex-boyfriend, Lazarus, follower of Potencia.

Mourni tries to ask what he wants, but instead Lazarus does the “kh-kh” noise (you know the one, where someone does a double pistols and a wink???) and that’s about all the messaging that goes on for that day.

Again. Much to Mournimar’s frustration.

Malak suggests getting rid of the stone. But Mournimar wants to keep it.

Luck suggests flipping a coin and he even brings one out from his journal bag. But Jun suggests Mournimar hold onto it and in the end, they agree on that.

(Also Mournimar gets a praise from Jun, which makes him feel validated).

The rest of the day passes uneventfully and they carry on, as the ground beneath their feet becomes more and more rocky. WIth the most perceptive in the party taking note that there’s a slight silhouette in the near distance of a town.

During the night, Belli receives a dream, like everyone else, but Mournimar, before her. As everyone had kept their dreams to themselves, for the following day, the group find themselves walking into a small and cozy town, which Arryn guesses would be Sodinvorg, most likely.

Very different from what the group had been used to so far. In a wasteland such as this (which funny enough is the right temperature for Luctan to feel at straight up at home?!) Sodinvorg’s constructed of tall buildings made out of clay, all painted red, white or red and white. Most split in multiple flats as they can tell from the windows. A variety of people in the windows, mostly Yuan-Ti, Kobolds, Tabaxi and Lizardfolk.

People here know each other and are close, mingling with each other.

Notable locations are the bathhouse, the tavern and the marketplace.

Luctan makes a b-line for the bathhouse, all excited and swept under the positive nostalgia of the enviroment he find himself in, with Jun joining him, all the while Belli would go and buy certain supplies. Cement included for some reason?! And then go to the apothecary.

A pair of young lizardfolk women run the bathhouse, which the pair of Jun and Luck can discern is constructed very intricately and with a style to it. (The place is essentially a roman bathhouse.)

Mournimar woud go to the Rolls and Scrolls place, where one could buy spell scrolls and delicious breads, as advertised, while Malak would check with the antique shop.

Inside the bath house, Jun takes on her mask of a beautiful Drow woman, named Valencia, having noted that there aren’t really any humans in the area. Valencia is a bit posh. Long white hair in a bun.

As they score themselves a place in the bath, The Disguise Duo enjoy a relaxing bath, unbothered by the cramped and crowded enviroment, as they are confident about themselves and their bodies.

No juicy gossip in the area and even if there was, a loud comment about Mommy Milkers from another of the patrons would distract the duo.

Arryn eventually joins the two, but after an unfortunate bomb dive goes wrong, he leaves, as the pool was too shallow for any acrobatics. Luctan’s Healing Word aids him in recovering from at least the physical pain, at least.

The duo have another talk, where Luck learns of Jun’s origins. Though she began her careers in Sa Doma, she was originally from Elmeria. Which, to say the least, was a neat coincidence, as the party had gotten their initial name there, when asked by Morticia.

Jun would share that, given her race as a Changeling, few doors were truly open for her, as a Shapeshifter in a world that had a bias against them, and so, the bounty hunting life and that of an escort were ones that she could slip into easily. Luck would bemoan her fate, how opportunities were taken from her due to things she couldn’t help. But was glad for her being able to make the best of it.

“When one door closes, another opens”, the two would agree.

Luck would tell her his story, in turn, being candid about the facts, though, naturally, given they were speaking around others, he’d of course avoid using the “H” word as to where he had come from. Besides, the yalready knew about that from the fight at the barn.

Luck would come to a point, admitting that he was unsure what to do with himself now. He was content helping people, but he had no plan on what to do with himself now, when he didn’t take on the rest of his revenge quest.

Jun encourages him to take the time and consider. And she’d admit that conversations weren’t generally something people would approach her for, given her non-violent work ethic.

But Luck would compliment her for her talk, appreciating being able to talk openly with her on matters. Jun would note that he was about the 3rd person to praise her for that.

Meanwhile, at the Rolls and Scrolls, Mournimar spends big money on several rolls and scrolls, making Matiro, the Yuan-Ti’s day with all the cash that comes his way.

Feather Fall, Aid, Calm Emotions and Find Steed are all bought and paid for by the Ranger, with the latter three being bought for a collective 500 gold.

Furthemore, the tiefling buys 7 loafs of bread, for the party and Arryn.

And then. Before he leaves, Mournimar leaves the man a tip of 5 platinum. And upon leaving, he can distinctly hear the Yuan-Ti scurry off, screaming to a friend: “PHILLIP! I’M IN LOVE!”

At a convergence point, Mournimar gets a gold piece from Jun and a pat on the head. Getting validated by an older female figure boosts his morale. Quite evident from his tail wagging like crazy.

From the calico Tabaxi, Jolly Sunrise, proprietor of “ Happy Belly Rubs “, Belli gets a healing herb, a root that healing potions are made from.

(It is at this point that we spend 10 minutes on Tabaxi bathroom name jokes. It’s just-you had to be there.)

Jolly makes a “Jolly Secret Rub”, which gives the party 1d8 Temp Hp. Gives special smelling salts, which are used as Spare The Dying as a bonus action. 165 worth. And lastly, upon Belli’s request, she delivers onto the Half-Orc Bard a pair of extra spicy peppers, referred to as “Dragon’s Breath”.

“Don’t give it to halflings. It could genuinely kill them.” she would note.

Also Belli learns that Jolly has a tiefling brother. Due to his fire resistance, she had learned that these could kill anoyone, without fire resistance. (Though that could’ve been a joke0

After the bread, the party go to the Cozy Leaf. An older tabaxi man, orange and graying around the nose, heads the place. He has a menu. There’s coffee, milk, honey milk. Maple Milk! The man’s name is Leaf On The Water. He has a strange clockwork device playing relaxing music nearby, giving the place a wholesome atmosphere.

His Grandson, an Artificer, built this contraption. Travels and sends new stuff to the old cat. There’s a stick figure drawing at the counter, drawn by the youngest in the family, his granddaughter. The grandson is taller than him. Grandson is 30. Grand Daughter is 3.

There’s even a portrait that gets showcased of the family. One big orange family. Himself, his three kids and his two grandkids.

Most of the group, but the bearded ones, get themselves a warm beverage. Honey Milk and Maple Milk.

While the patrty slowly unwind for the day, Belli asks Jun if she has any expertise with chemicals. Interesting enough, the Bloodhunter does have skills with alchemy supplies. And the two work on making pepper spray. Super. Spicy. Pepper Spray.

Malak find himself buying several items from the antique shop, run by the kobolds Zett and Nix, Red and Bronze respectively.

From the items presented to him, he takes what he could consider lucky charms.

Among them a coin of a strange material, a stone figurine of a snake, as well as a small silver rod with no decoration. It makes a harp noise. Notably, the rod gives off faint evocation magic.

Before purchasing these, he asks the Kobolds, just to be sure, that they hadn’t pilfered these from any gravesights and the like. They specify that any item they have in their shop has been brought in from families, who found no use for them.

They are established businessmen here. And the price for the collection of items bought is 25 silver. Enough to cover rent for the month.

Malak thanks them in Draconic and leaves after the monetary exchange.

At the end of the day, as everyone prepares for the night’s rest in the tavern, Jun keeps an ear and eye out for gossip, while Mournimar takes a single room for himself (and Morgan).

One, where he has himself his own little dream.

End of Episode.

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ellana-ravenwood · 5 years

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The Batfamily TV show I wish existed but that will most likely never be (wecanhopethough) :

I’ve been fantasazing a LOT lately about a Batfam centric tv show. Not a story just about Bruce and then the kids are somewhere in the background, or just about one of the kid, or one character of the “extended family”. Nope. A TV show, that would focus on everyone. And here’s a few of my thoughts haha :

We’ve seen enough of times Bruce’s parents murder so no need to have a scene of that again. Even people who never read a Batman comics or watch a movie/animated show, sort-of know how he ended up being Batman ya know ? It kinda became a trope, a classic scene, to see little eight year old Bruce screaming above his parents’ bodies, in an empty alley...We really don’t need to see yet another one of those. We all know the story. And for those who are not up to date, there will be hints of what happened dropped all through the show. Because it’s still about Batman.

The Robins and all though, often people don’t even know there’s more than one Robin ? Or at least don’t know how many there are really...So here how I would love for the show to start/be :

The first few episodes would only be about ONE kid, and ONE “extended family member” (Like Babs, ya know ?). My absolute biggest dream would be to have the ENTIRE Batfam represented (or most, there’s some members from alternate timelines/world that I’m not sure would appear...or maybe just as a cameo ?), and each of them would have their moments, and be just as important as the other. My perfect Batfam TV show would portray how they are all linked, how they’re a family (albeit not always a very functional one) So. Here we are. Longer episodes than normal shows,more mini-series sort of things than the traditional 40 minutes episodes. I think an hour would be a good timeframe, at least for the “origin story” episode...so, yeah, longer-than-usual episodes about all the origins of the kids and all.

First episode start with Dick coming in young Bruce Wayne’s life. We quickly understand that Bruce just came back after years away from Gotham (and that it was to train to become Batman). He’s been back for less than a year, and already started to be a night vigilante...And here he comes. Little Richard Grayson. A boy in which Bruce sees himself a lot (because of the way he lost his parents). And so Bruce makes the crazy decision to adopt the kid (yeah yeah I know “ward”), and it literally changes the way he lives. And boom, Dick’s origin story. Maybe a little shenanigans across the Manor. Dick’s difficulty to adapt to living with Bruce now, and not having his parents. Showing how he can get so angry at times ! And how he isn’t just that jolly little boy who jokes around and hugs everyone he sees ? Basically, an episode that could show every faces of Dick Grayson. Because he deserves to have a show where an entire episode is JUST FOR HIM, and how he is.

Second episode would be Barbara Gordon’s introduction. Pretty straight forward. Who she is, daughter of who, how she came to become Batgirl. Her close relationship with the Batman and his sidekick(s). Showing all the dimension of Babs, her intelligence and such. She isn’t just “a badass girl” (she’d only be a girl at the beginning), but an extremely intelligent one who’s able to turn situations around that look desperate, thanks to her analytic brain etc etc. She’s essential in a lot of Batman stories.

Third episode would be Jason’s arrival. Completely different from Dick’s. the episode would focus on the few years he has with Bruce, and where he comes from. How Jason hasn’t always been “the rebel of the family” (and how actually Dick has that role more than any of his brothers really...in this episode, probably there will be a quick mention of how the “previous Robin” is sort of a taboo subject because he left Gotham to go with the Teen Titans and Bruce is still not over it...). How he’s actually really sweet, and so SO happy to be Robin, and finally have someone that cares ? Which will explain why he became Red Hood later on...The episode would end on his death.

Fourth episode would start with Bruce being depressed, still not over Jason’s death. It would show how he became even more violent, which he has fights about with Dick...At the same time, Dick came back to Gotham as Nightwing after Jason’s death to still be there as a support for Bruce. Dick is always there when his friends or family members need his help...Doesn’t mean they don’t fight though. Bruce is even tougher to get through to than he used to. Jason’s death really hardened him further, the guilt not helping, of course. And then...Here enters little Timothy Drake. “Hey, I know you’re Batman !” he tells him, smiling widely...A few of his (baby) teeth are missing, that’s how young he is. The episode would be about how Bruce refuses to take Tim in as first (even more so since Tim’s parents are still alive by then), and would show their relationship evolves, all the way up to Bruce officially adopting Timbo.

Fifth episode : Hey is that Stephanie Brown we see ? Yup it iiiiiis !! Her story. Her background. What’s up with her. This episode is all about her. How she’s an important part of Bruce’s life, however isn’t one of his adoptive kid (it would be weird anyway...it would mean she ends up dating her own brother...). I always viewed Steph’ as an important member of the “Batfam”, but not as one of Bruce’s kid ? Like, she’s most definitely cared for and loved, but she doesn’t permanently live at Wayne Manor, and isn’t officially his ward or adopted kid etc etc...Doesn’t mean she isn’t included and not sort-of-family ! But, ya know what I mean, extremely close friends can be family too (remember : this is only MY opinion and how I view the characters after I read comics with them, you can totally disagree...in that case do it nicely, please).

Sixth Episode would be Cassandra’s. Bruce is fighting against her father, and that’s when he finds that young girl that appears mute, and that just killed a few men in front of him. He learns of her story, how her father tried to turn her into a weapon since she was born, via some audio recordings he found in one of his hideout. And he feels utterly disarmed. What is he supposed to do ? He can’t let such a dangerous person out, at the same time, she looks so young...And it’s not quite her fault, according to the recordings...He can’t just leave her there, but he’s also sure that locking her up would do more harm than anything else. So he takes her in. Ensues the beginning of Cass’ evolution (the rest will be in other episodes).

Seventh episode would be the one where Bruce discovers that Jason is still alive, and that he HATES HIM. Fighty fights fight...Oh shit it’s my son. Flashback of how Jason got resurrected and his short time with the Al’Ghuls, and a little speech about why he hates Bruce so much. Very “Under the Red Hood”, I guess. Ends with a heartbroken Bruce, and an even angrier Jason (because he saw Tim and Cass and can’t believe Bruce still enrolls kids to be his little “child soldier”...of course, it’s more complicated than that).

Eighth episode, Damian’s dramatic entrance. “I thought you’d be taller”. He tries to fight every single one of his siblings (that he most definitely not consider as such yet) (and yes I’m including Cass because I want her to be part of it all...), and it’s obvious they let him win. Sure, the kid trained since he was born...But they’re all pretty old now, and trained by the Batman too. Damian couldn't overpower them that easily (yeah it’s a canon thing I’m not a fan of...). In any case, Damian’s first few days in the family are tough af...

Then after all those origin stories, a lot would happen before Duke’s episode finally comes (because he appears quite late in the Batfam). So an explanation about how he came to get in, what happened to his parents, etc etc. An episode about Duke ! He might come in only like, in a later season (again he comes really late into everything, although he appears before). But when he comes in, Damian is less of a brat now, and considers everyone his family etc etc.

I know there’s a lot more people that are friendly with the Batfam (like Luke Fox and all) HOWEVER, I wanna talk about the “core” Batfam, Bruce and the kids and all. Family. Now of course, Kate Kane would appear. Maybe have her own part of an episode about how at first she decides to become Batwoman of her own volition and isn’t even affiliated with Bruce. Her story at her military school. Why she decided to get into this business etc etc...Probably things about Jim Gordon too. Oh, and the villains ! But really, only full episodes about the ones that are really...family. Like, Kate is Bruce’s cousin and all, but...they always kinda had their own things going on. Now as I said, she’ll appear, but you know what I mean. Basically, allies and friends will most definitely appear, but they won’t all have a full episodes about them ? Maybe a story revolving around them, and therefor we learn the essentials. Also, lil introductions to all the pets the Batfam has (of course we’d have Batcow, Titus, Ace and other Alfred the Cat hehe).

The narrator would be Alfred Pennyworth, because he’s the one constant in every story. He’s always there (or almost). First episode would start with Bruce as a little boy, after his parents’ death, training around the house, and then as the episodes unfold, more and more members appear, training with him (opening credits).

We’d just have episodes about their domestic life AND their detective life. A perfect mix of both World. And after all those introduction episodes, that would be all interesting because we all know those peeps have some wild backgrounds, then the audience would know everyone ! Now, it’s a lot of characters, so, once they’re all introduced, they don’t need to always appear. There would be episodes of all of them together, and sometimes of just two of them bonding over whatever ? Like, Dick and Jason. Tim and Damian. Etc etc.

And every episodes would talk about all the different facets of their personalities, and not only focus on stereotypes (like it’s often the case :/). Like, NONE OF THEM are one-dimensional characters. So, let’s show that Bruce is a caring man but also a total jerk sometimes, that Dick is the “carefree” one but also the “angry Robin” more than Jason is, that Jason isn’t just a killing machine and a rebel, but also very sweet. That Tim isn't just that coffee addict boy who never sleeps, but a selfless man who’s in it because he thinks he does the right thing. That Damian isn’t just a brat who hates everyone, but tries really hard to better himself and is actually extremely scared of becoming like the Al Ghuls and turning bad etc etc...Show their complex personalities, and not just boring and lazy cliches.

Are you starting to see why this show would be impossible to exist, wether live action or animated ? Haha yeah, it’d be like, 300 seasons long hahahaha. Because there’s so much material ! ...But I’m pretty sure so many of us fans would watch every single episodes.

PS : This is an “adaption” I imagined, so of course not every subtlety about everyone are in the short synopsis of their episodes I gave, and there would be much more than that. And some aspect of the stories are switched a little. And it’s only snippets, small portions. My idea would be much more worked on. I just wanted to share the little things I thought about ^^. '

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Line of Duty Series 6 Episode 1 Review: Who Killed Gail Vella?

https://ift.tt/3s4cUyW

This Line of Duty review contains spoilers.

Is this allowed? Somebody please check. Can Kate just leave AC-12? She’s a third of the operation. One of the three pyramids at Giza may as well stand up and walk away. The strawberry from Neapolitan ice cream, silver Olympic medals, degrees 240 – 360 of all circles… could they also just call it a day? Unacceptable. This is AC-12 we’re talking about. 12 as in four times three: the gaffer, Steve and Kate – the corners of the straight-backed, clean-nosed triangle of truth.

No wonder Ted is feeling sore about it. The Super could barely bring himself to look at Fleming’s picture in this series six opener, the sight of those blue, blue eyes prompting him to mutter about loyalty and then change the subject to great wee girl Chloe, AC-12’s newest recruit. Last series’ investigation into ‘H’ clearly left a grubby stain on the unit’s reputation. How will Hastings react when he finds out that Steve also has one foot out the door?

We can’t blame Steve for requesting a transfer to Jolly Rogerson’s Major Violent Crime unit. He’s currently living a life as grey as his waistcoat. He spends his days chasing up expenses receipts and his nights washing down blister packs of over-the-counter painkillers with premium lager. Meanwhile, Kate’s out there wearing the waistcoat of danger, complete with bullet proofing, reflective stripes and a radio. Who wouldn’t want to swap?

I’ll tell you who I wouldn’t swap places with right now: anybody. This is a new series of Line of Duty and we’re at the top of the toboggan run. Episode one is the push start, building up speed for the tortuous descent, sharp turns and bit at the end that goes so fast your ears fold back and you can taste blood. We’re going places, is the point, and after a year of hardly straying further than our front doors, I can’t be the only one willing to kiss the ground beneath AC-12’s feet.

Now, what do they have for us this time? Operation Lighthouse: the unsolved murder of Gail Vella, a crusading journalist shot dead outside her home in the Kingsgate area a year ago. (Prematurely killing off guest stars is one of Line of Duty’s favourite tricks, but a series is usually polite enough to wait at least until it starts before doing so. Not in the case of Andi Osho’s Vella.)

After the first whiff of a clue in months, senior investigating officer DCI Joanne Davidson (new guest lead Kelly Macdonald) diverts the team on its way to collar the suspect to a suspicious-seeming side mission that loses precious time and potentially, their man. Did her spidey sense really start tingling at the split-second glimpse of a parked van, or was the armed robbery a planned distraction?

In addition, Davidson’s boss DSU Buckells (we’ve met him before) screws up the op paperwork, leaving a gap in surveillance coverage long enough to allow a Russian circus, let alone a single suspect, escape from the flat in question. Next, the Covert Human Intelligence Source (or CHIS. Keep up, this was all covered last term) able to ID the suspect is found very much pushed off a tall building.

What we need to know: Is Davidson deliberately obstructing the hunt for Vella’s killer, and is she working with Buckells to do it?

Line of Duty Series 5 Recap: Framing Ted Hastings

By Louisa Mellor

Line of Duty: Ranking Every Bent Copper By Level of Corruption, Mother of God!

By Louisa Mellor

In the ‘yes’ corner is PS Farida Jatri, a member of Davidson’s team who tips Steve off about her boss’ suspicious behaviour. We don’t know what Davidson is capable of, warns Jatri. But not so fast! Farida also turns out to be Davidson’s spurned, secret lover. Does that make her testimony likely to be more reliable, or less? Valuable insight, or axe to grind?

In the ‘no’ corner is the fact that, after nicking Terry Boyle – a recurring Line of Duty character with Down’s Syndrome and a long-time associate of the OCG – and spending the episode pushing the theory that he was Vella’s obsessed stalker, Davidson let him walk. Until that moment, she’d looked guiltier than a dog with a cat’s tail hanging out of its mouth. Everything she’d done and said suggested that she was part of a plan to frame Terry while the real killer – likely one Michael Banks (a relative of series five OCG member Lee Banks?) – got away. In this theory, Banks shot Vella to stop her from exposing links between police officers and organised crime, and Terry was meant to be the OCG’s fall guy.

At this stage in proceedings though, any theory is a just house of sticks waiting to be blown away by big bad wolf Jed Mercurio. Maybe Farida will be revealed as the killer. Maybe Terry really did do it. Maybe new DC Chloe Bishop is Tommy Hunter’s long-lost granddaughter here to bring down AC-12 from the inside. Maybe they need to focus on hunting down this Mike Indigo fellow everybody keeps talking about on their police radio. Right now, we simply can’t know. It’s just a case of keeping our eyes open and taking everything down in a little notebook.

A few things to note down: 1) Steve’s painkiller addiction – a hangover from the serious injuries he sustained in series four and a potential weak spot for the DS. 2) The missing freezer from Terry’s flat, which we know used to contain the corpse of series one’s Jackie Laverty. 3) Jo Davidson’s Fort Knox-levels of door security and complicated feelings about that family photo. 4) Kate’s separation from Mark, and that little hand stroke from Davidson at the end. 5) Terry being told he’ll be safe in secure accommodation (will he?).

The ‘Kate’s in another unit but not undercover’ twist aside, this hour bore similarities to some previous series openers. Both two and five started with disaster-struck police convoys deliberately diverted by female officers in the pay of the OCG. The character of Michael Farmer in series four also gave us the interrogation of a young murder suspect with a learning disability. Would a drama this well-tuned into its own detail and history not care about repeating itself? Doubtful. Line of Duty knows that its audience pays it the same level of attention that a Labrador pays to somebody eating a Jaffa Cake; if we’re being led to draw comparisons, there’ll likely be a reason, and it’ll likely be to pull the rug out from under us.

Does Davidson bear similarities to past leads? She’s less of a cold fish than Lindsay Denton – see that banter with Kate in the opening scene – but like her, lives alone with a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc for company. She’s as commanding as Roz Huntley – whom you could also imagine asking a churlish underling if the word “ma’am” was in their vocabulary – but more emotive and less inscrutable. (Huntley would never have lost control enough to respond “shit, shit, shit” to the armed robber being shot, or exploded like that in Buckells’ office.) Innocent, or up to her neck in it? That’s what we’re here to find out.

The game with Line of Duty at this stage is to keep the important things the same (long, tense interrogation scenes; naturalistic jargon; exhilarating doc-style action; Ted taking any opportunity to mention pipe bands, Tayto Crisps or Gloria Hunniford…), while getting us hooked on a new lead and a new mystery. Episode one? Job done. In the words of the Super: I’m gonna need more, son.

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Still have questions? Read our weekly episode theories explainer here. Line of Duty continues on Sunday the 28th of March at 9pm on BBC One.

The post Line of Duty Series 6 Episode 1 Review: Who Killed Gail Vella? appeared first on Den of Geek.

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alexandralyman · 4 years

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Beyond the Horizon - Ch. 44

Fic Update: Beyond the Horizon Summary: AU: When Princess Emma's ship is captured by the Jolly Roger and Captain Killian Jones, she offers herself as a hostage for ransom if he will let the ship and the other passengers go. With Emma, Killian remembers the honour he once held dear, and Emma catches glimpses of the gentleman Killian had been. Against all odds, the pirate and the princess begin to fall for each other.

Read this chapter on ff.net here

Chapter Forty Four Tell Me A Story

A foul stench hit him as soon as he entered his quarters and Killian stopped dead with one hand on the doorframe, his nose wrinkling in disgust while his belly twisted and lurched under his waistcoat. The smell was unmistakable, and revulsion was quickly replaced with concern as he rushed forward. Emma was bent over at the waist, retching into the porcelain basin that sat on the washstand with one hand braced alongside it and the other wrapped around her middle. He glanced down at the puddle of sick and bile quickly rose in his own throat, but as unpleasant as the smell and sight of it was, he was far more alarmed than repulsed.

"Easy, love, easy."

He laid a hand on her back, trying to offer what bit of comfort he could with his presence. It was hardly the first time Killian had witnessed someone vomiting from seasickness or spoiled rations, or, more frequently among sailors, from too much drink, and he knew there was nothing much that could be done for such afflictions except waiting for them to run their course. But Emma flinched under his touch, her shoulders hunching even more over the porcelain, and he swallowed back the sour taste in his mouth. His hand fell back to his side, opening and closing helplessly while she continued to empty the contents of her stomach. He had an inkling of what had made her so violently ill so suddenly, and it wasn't seasickness or an excess of grog.

The first time he'd been flogged he had borne the cut of the lash as stoically as he could in front of the jeering crew, knowing that his punishment would be made tenfold worse if he gave in to the fruitless urge to beg and plead for mercy in the midst of such unmerciful men. He had to take it like a man even though he was hardly more than a boy, lest he be branded with more than the marks carved into his back and he had, swallowing back his cries as each stroke fell and willing the tears not to fall along with them until the captain was finally satisfied that he'd had enough. Killian had felt empty afterwards, hollowed out as if a piece of his soul itself had gone missing and might not return. As painful as it was, he'd been strangely numb as well for hours on end, until he tried to eat the broth that Liam brought him and was immediately sick all over his poor brother as soon as he took a single spoonful.

Emma had sworn that she was fine, that his threats and taunts in front of the Evil Queen's men couldn't douse the flame of their love, but being paraded about on deck while he openly boasted about taking both her ship and her maidenhead by force had clearly sickened her right to her stomach.

"A pirate's always got to keep the best part of the treasure for himself, eh lads?"

That night was seared into his memory more indelibly than ink on parchment...the way her breath had hitched but her gaze hadn't faltered when he drew her nightdress slowly up her thighs with clear intent to have what he'd wanted for so long...stripping her fully bare at last and greedily drinking in every inch of fine white skin...her fear that it would hurt and his promise to be gentle, a promise kept because to do otherwise was unthinkable...the soft trail of her fingers down his back when he rolled his hips and she accepted the full length of him for the first time...drowning in the sensations and in a sea of words unsaid and almost confessing his deepest secret then and there, that he was hopelessly in love with her and would give her anything and everything she wanted if only she'd stay...

Killian had hated every word that had come out of his mouth on the deck and more than that, how easily it was to twist and turn what had happened between them on the Jolly Roger into a far more sordid and ugly tale, of a helpless lady caught in the rapacious clutches of a heartless brigand. Who would believe that she'd welcomed him into her bed, that what he wanted even more than the pleasures of her body was her heart? No, the tale he told was far more likely and it would spread as quickly as wildfire now that they'd made landfall. He'd wager that it would be halfway across the kingdom by sunset, carried from town to tavern in scandalized whispers and salacious grins.

"Did you hear about the princess and the pirate?"

She spat into the basin and staggered away, away from him, one hand still pressed just below the bodice of her gown while she wiped her mouth. That little voice in the back of his mind was back, chuckling darkly that her love was the one prize he could never try to take by force. It was hers and only hers to give as she saw fit and she could snatch it back from his unworthy hands at any moment.

"Nerves, I guess," she muttered, not quite meeting his eyes. "The waiting just got to be too much, I just...I just want this all to be over."

"Soon," he promised, ringed fingers flexing over the hilt of his sword and trying to quell that little bit of nagging doubt that her words could have another meaning.

His marriage proposal back on the fairy isle had been refused, after all.

The table was a cluttered mess, several books in a jumbled pile that was topped with a ball of wool that had a pair of knitting needles sticking out, the small chest where Emma kept hair ribbons and other feminine treasures sat open and had clearly been rifled through and wedged in between was the tray Fergus had brought earlier with the remains of the morning tea, along with an unfamiliar brown glass bottle that she pushed aside to lift the teapot and pour out what remained into the cup she preferred, the one painted with little pink rosebuds. She swished out her mouth while he retrieved her cloak from the peg on the wall.

"It's time," Killian said, draping it over her shoulders and fastening it at her throat. He carefully covered her hair with the hood, letting the deep folds mask her face. Another memory struck him then, of the day they'd first met. She'd been concealed by a cloak then too, hidden away until she'd thrown it off and her voice had rung out across the deck and drew the attention of all. Even then he'd known she was the real treasure, not the ship, not whatever cargo filled the hold, not even the priceless jewels that ringed her neck and could have retired his whole crew several times over. If they'd offered him anything else on board it would have been in vain, as soon as he caught sight of the beautiful woman staring back at him with such defiance, unbowed and unbent by what seemed like certain defeat, then all he wanted in that moment was her, with an ache a deep as the pull of the tides in his sailor's blood

"I will trade myself for their lives, Captain Jones."

"And who might you be?"

"I am Princess Emma, daughter of Queen Snow White and King David. Let the ship and my people go, and I offer myself as your hostage."

"Killian?"

Her pale face looked up at him as it had then, when he'd extended his hand to bring her aboard his ship. That day her hestiance and uncertainty about the man she'd made a deal with was plain, but she'd accepted his offering and the bargain between them had been sealed. This time, she was the one who reached out first, slim, delicate fingers wrapping around his thicker, calloused ones in the stillness of the cabin they now shared. Emma had traded herself to him and yet somehow she'd ended up with his heart, body and soul as her unintended prize as well. It was far from an even exchange, but Killian was still a pirate, he always got the better half of any deal. The Fairy Queen had warned with those strange, violet eyes that there was darkness in him and he swore at times he could literally feel it, heavy and leaden in his chest. What was a scarred and blackened heart like his to a princess like her?

Still, he hoped she would be gentle with it, just the same.

….

Regina's ships had guided them to a port not far from the castle that was Emma's childhood home, although none of her vessels had docked alongside the Jolly and stayed anchored out instead just beyond the mouth of the harbour. Blocking them in, Smee had noted in a low tone under his knitted cap, and Killian had agreed with a silent nod. The Evil Queen was taking no chances, it seemed, cutting off any last minute attempts to escape back out on the open sea. It was said that she was cunning, and Snow White's warning not to let his guard down around her was at the forefront of his mind when he'd steered them those last few leagues into the waiting net. The port itself was strangely deserted, when they went above deck there wasn't a soul to be seen even though the docks should be thick with people, fishermen bringing in the early morning catch, peddlers pushing barrows of oysters, longshoremen hauling cargo, alongside the pickpockets and whores who always flocked to the ships in search of likely marks and customers. But there wasn't so much as a single drunkard sleeping off a night of overindulgence and all the buildings lining the wharves were all shut up tight, even the taverns, shockingly enough, with drawn curtains and closed shutters as far as the eye could see. It appeared that everyone had either fled or gone to ground, battening the hatches and hunkering down as if preparing to ride out an incoming storm. But the waters were calm and the sky was clear straight out to the horizon so whatever it was the locals feared, it wasn't coming from the sea.

A lacquered black carriage that looked decidedly out of place next to the weathered timbers and sun-bleached planks was waiting for them when they disembarked, Killian's hand firm on Emma's elbow and his men flanking them on all sides. Several knights on horseback were positioned strategically around the carriage, heads turned to watch their approach. But these weren't the noble champions of Emma's tales, the ones Fergus begged to hear every chance he got. Their faces were completely hidden behind pitch-black masks that, coupled with their dark armour, made them look more like spectres conjured from a realm of nightmares than men. The Evil Queen's famed Black Knights, subject of far more lurid stories than the ones Emma told. Killian had heard a few of them over the years in smoky taverns, alongside tales of witches who ate children for their tea and rumours about the mysterious and powerful Dark One. It was said that Regina kept their hearts by her side in a jewelled casket like other queens collected gems, binding them to her with magic and ensuring their loyalty could never waver.

Slavery, of a different sort than the indentured servitude he and his brother had been sold into once upon a time.

One dismounted and pulled something from his saddlebag. It came loose with a metallic rattle and Killian saw it was a set of heavy iron manacles, two cuffs joined together by a thick chain. Beside him, he sensed more than saw Emma tense up under her cloak. The knight halted a few feet away and addressed them with the faintest dip of his chin, voice slightly muffled by the mask and completely devoid of emotion.

"Her most gracious and beloved majesty, Regina, undisputed Queen and Sovereign, welcomes you most warmly to her lands, Captain Killian Jones, and has sent us to escort you and the prisoner safely to her castle."

"Her castle?" Emma scoffed, and he tightened his fingers on her arm in silent warning. She said no more, but Killian could feel her fury, a rage that he shared when the knight stepped closer and lifted the manacles that were obviously meant for her wrists.

"And just what, pray tell, do you think you're doing?"

In one motion Killian was in front of Emma, his men fanning out protectively on either side of them and his hand on his sword. He didn't match the knight's indifferent tone, it came out with an edge that was as sharp as any blade and twice as dangerous. From behind him, Killian felt the faint touch of Emma's hand to his back while she peered at the knight over his shoulder, a tiny weight but enough to give him an anchor, something to ground him and keep his rising temper in check.

"Her Majesty has instructed that Princess Emma be brought to her in chains," the knight said, in that same flat unaffected monotone.

Emma gave a sharp inhale and pressed a little closer while Killian glared at the masked face, weighing his shrinking number of options. They had to maintain the ruse that she was nothing but a bargaining chip to him for as long as possible and why would he care if she was clapped in irons for the journey? The knights might be masked, but the clearly weren't blind. Any hint of softness from him would be seen as weakness and he couldn't afford to be weak, not now. He had to be the man they expected him to be, the hard, greedy pirate unwilling to relinquish any control over his valuable prize.

"Let me make one thing abundantly clear. The princess is my prisoner, not the Queen's, not until she has fulfilled our deal. For all I know those are enchanted to take her directly to the dungeon and my reward will be oh so conveniently forgotten by her most gracious and beloved Majesty. I'm a pirate, don't even attempt to double cross me. Try to shackle her and I will run you through where you stand."

The knight looked down at the manacles in his hands and while he might be heartless, Killian's own was beating madly under his waistcoat. In truth, he did fear there was some sort of hidden trick to the iron cuffs like the poisoned apple the Evil Queen had given to Snow White all those years ago, but that wasn't the main reason for his refusal.

He'd sworn to himself that no one would put Emma in chains, not as long as he still had breath in his body and he was damned if he was going to break that oath now.

"Your prisoner must be restrained for the journey to the Queen's castle, Captain," the knight insisted. "Her Majesty is not willing to risk any chance of escape."

Killian made a grand show of looking the knight up and down and then loudly counted off the ones waiting by the carriage. "You think a mere slip of a girl is capable of escaping so many of Her Majesty's finest? No wonder you're all too coward to show your faces. Put those damn things away, if it's so bloody important I'll restrain her myself and believe me, there will be no heroic attempts at an escape, not when I'm this close to getting my reward."

"You tell the bastard, Captain!"

"Damn right! You'll have to go through all of us first!"

Killian's men all started to chime in and faced with a seething pirate in front of him and an equally incensed crew who were all armed to the teeth and spoiling for a fight, the knight obviously decided that perhaps the Queen's orders could be amended just a tad. The manacles were put back in the saddlebag while Fergus was sent to fetch a length of rope from the ship. Killian took it from him and wrapped it around Emma's wrists, fingers making quick work of it even though he rarely did this himself anymore.

"There's no one who can tie a knot like a sailor can, it's the first thing you're taught when you join your first crew and board your first ship. Isn't that right, Fergus?"

Fergus's eyes widened a bit as he picked up on the meaning behind his captain's words and he nodded his agreement and said, "Aye, Captain!"

"My young crewman here learned his knots from the very best. Me."

Killian said it with a wink, looking straight into Emma's eyes as he finished tying the rope and let the tail end fall between her bound hands. The knot was a sturdy one, thick against her slim wrists, and it looked impossible to untie quickly.

But looks were deceiving.

It was a quick release knot, designed to come apart with nothing more than a single tug. The same knot that had once saved her from a terrible fate at the hands of a man who was now dead by Killian's hand, with nothing left of him but bones picked clean at the bottom of the ocean.

The first blood he'd drawn to keep her safe.

First, but not the last, and more was sure to be spilled before all was said and done.

With Emma suitably restrained by the rope, or so it seemed, he took her by the arm again and began leading her towards the carriage. The crew started to follow, but two of the knights immediately moved to cut them off with a flick of the reins, their large stallions whinnying a challenge and forming an imposing barrier between the wharves and the dock that led back to the safety of the Jolly.

"There was, in fact, a third order from the Queen that I'd neglected to mention, Captain. You and the princess are to be escorted to Her Majesty's castle alone. None of your men may accompany us, and that is not a condition that can be waived under any circumstances."

It came from the knight who'd been serving as spokesman, his hands folded placidly in front of him and that masked face blank and inscrutable. Killian paused, trading a quick glance with Emma. He'd planned to take several of the crew with them to the Evil Queen's castle to serve as backup, just in case, and this was a complication he hadn't anticipated.

"Captain?" Smee piped up from behind them, the concern clear in his voice. "Your orders, Sir?"

If he gave the command then they would fight, he had no doubt about that, but the knights held the high ground on them, looking down from their mounts with swords already half-drawn from their scabbards in anticipation. The dark armour covered them from head to toe, leaving almost nothing exposed, it would be difficult for a blade to make contact and draw blood. Still, his hand started to drift towards the hilt of his sword as he stared at the Queen's man.

The Queen.

She was the real enemy, not the faceless men who rode under her flag, and he smiled, showing his teeth in lieu of his sword. He'd have to forfeit this battle to win the war.

"A private parlay with Her Majesty then. Much more...intimate, that way, I suppose. Stand down men, and go back to the ship. We'll all get our reward soon enough."

Killian muttered the last more to himself than to them as the knights parted to let them through and the coachman swung down to open the door to the carriage. He bent stiffly at the waist and extended a hand to assist Emma inside, a hand she couldn't take with her own bound. Killian roughly shouldered the man aside and lifted her in himself, hands circling her waist. Before he followed he glanced back and saw they were all still watching and waiting on the dock, Smee's squat figure, Doyle's taller, broader one with one arm holding Fergus back, the boy warring with the man he would become. Keswick and Murray stood to the side, the leg Emma had healed for him showing no sign of the injury that had almost killed the sailor he'd taken to join his crew. Above them the Jolly Roger rose proudly against the clear blue sky, her sweeping lines and bold curves as beautiful as a woman's. His ship was much more than just a vessel, it was his home. A familiar tightness settled across his shoulders at the prospect of leaving her behind for an unknown length of time, while the sea was volatile and mercurial at times he knew it as intimately as a lover. The forest was something else entirely and all he had to guide him now wasn't a sextant and the stars above, there was only a handful of half-forgotten memories from his childhood.

And Emma.

"The Jolly is yours, Mr. Smee. Keep her safe for me until I return."

He swung himself up into the carriage and the door closed behind him, followed almost immediately by the soft click of a lock being turned. There was a crack of a whip a moment later and he flinched at the sound for the first time in years, while the carriage started to roll forward with a jolt that forced them both back into the bench seat in a tangled heap.

"Bad form," Killian swore, trying to find a comfortable position for his legs. The carriage was elegantly appointed with silk-padded walls and thick velvet upholstery, but it was still a tight fit and their knees jostleted when he turned to Emma and pushed the hood back so he could see her face properly. He couldn't be sure if the coachman could hear them or not so he only dared to whisper, "You alright?"

She still looked too pale to his eye, no roses blooming in her cheeks when he brushed his thumbs over them and her lips thin and bloodless. Her eyes fluttered shut and he held his breath, thinking she was going to be sick again all over the Queen's finery, but after a moment they opened again and she nodded. Since the curtains were drawn and no one could see in he twisted in the seat and pulled her onto his lap, leaning back so she could rest her head comfortably against his shoulder. The carriage rumbled underneath them and from the outside came the rhythmic clip-clop of hooves against the cobblestones, dampened somewhat by the silk hangings. After some time the timbre of it changed and Emma straightened up, listening intently for a moment.

"We've turned onto the forest road," she said.

Killian pulled back the drape and peered out of the little window. It was rounded like a porthole, but the docks and the sea were both long gone. All he could see at first was a moving wall of green and he blinked a few times, his eyes finally focusing enough to make out that the "wall" was actually trees, growing so thick that there was hardly any space between them and so tall that even with craning his neck back he couldn't make out the tops. Cobblestone streets had given way to hard-packed dirt underneath, a long brown ribbon that would through the dense thicket like a narrow strait. Emma was also looking out of the window on the other side and he slid across the bench, letting his cheek brush hers as he glanced out as well. The view was practically the same, nothing but trees and brush to be seen as they bumped along. There were ancient oaks twice the width of the Jolly's main mast and new saplings as slender as reeds, while scattered throughout was the occasional fat stump. They passed by one that looked old and weathered, grey moss clinging feebly to the side and the top deeply cracked with age. It was clearly long dead, but a bit of life remained in the form of tiny yellow flowers that grew from the split in the wood.

"My parents met on this road."

She lifted her hands and touched a fingertip to the glass, a hint of wistfulness in her voice.

"Did they?" he asked. "Tell me the tale then, Princess."

Killian kept his own tone deliberately bored and indifferent just in case the coachmen could hear. Let him think the pirate was simply casting about for a way to pass the time on the way to the Evil Queen's castle and nothing more. But he already knew this tale and he knew it was Emma's favourite, the telling of it would be her anchor, to steady her against what lay ahead.

"Once upon a time there was a handsome prince, and one day he went for a carriage ride through the forest while carrying his most prized possession, his beloved mother's wedding ring. She had told him that True Love followed the ring wherever it went, and he planned to gift it to his betrothed, the princess he was expected to marry. But a bandit lurked in the woods, watching the road in hopes of valuables to steal, and unknown to the prince the bandit was hidden in the trees above as his carriage went by, waiting for just the right moment to strike..."

Her voice washed over him like the roll of the tides as she recounted the story, a siren's song rendered in prose instead of verse that drew him in and he could picture it all so clearly. A cloaked figure high in the trees, watching, and waiting. The young prince, promised to a woman he did not love but was honour-bound to wed. Their paths crossing on this very road in a chance meeting that changed them both forever.

"...the dust from a Dark Fairy, powerful magic…"

"...a trick, of the Evil Queen's magic mirror…"

"...and it was with the magic of True Love's Kiss that Prince Charming awakened Snow White from her death-like slumber…"

Magic

It infused the tale right from the beginning but it hadn't ended there, with the defeat and banishment of the Evil Queen and the Happy Ending for the kingdom at last. Magic had sent Emma across his path, altering his course in more ways that just the change to the Jolly's heading when he first spotted her ship in the distance. Magic had sparked between them, in that first look, that first touch. Magic had flowed from her, healing injuries and defeating enemies in astonishing displays of power that many unscrupulous souls would kill to possess and control for their own. Magic filled the carriage now like the wind filling the sails, propelling them ever forward on their own tale, when a pirate who thought his heart had been lost forever fell in love with a princess and vowed to take her home. Maybe it wasn't the equal of such grand heroics that had enthralled entire kingdoms and the realms beyond, but it was theirs.

Killian held onto that thought, as the shadows lengthened and the light began to wane while the forest only grew thicker, turning deeper and darker around them as the ocean did far from the safety of shore.

They came to a halt shortly before sunset, the castle was too far from the coast to make the journey in an afternoon. The carriage door opened to reveal they'd stopped at a rather tumbledown cottage instead of a village or a roadside inn, and the knights had dismounted and were already at work gathering wood for a fire and hauling up water from the well. Half-forgotten memories of another humble cottage, another life, started to surface and he quickly tamped them back down while he kept a firm hand on his prisoner and lifted Emma down from the carriage. She shook the wrinkles from her gown and cloak as best she could with her hands still bound, while he kicked the dust from his boots and rolled his shoulders, shaking off the long hours of confinement and taking surreptitious stock of their surroundings. The cottage was clearly abandoned and had been for some time, the garden was overgrown with weeds and one side of the fence had collapsed. The thatched roof was in desperate need of patching and tools had been left to dull and rust out in the elements. It looked like whoever had lived here had left in a hurry, had they fled when Regina seized power over the kingdom, taking only what they could carry and disappearing into the woods?

The Fairy Queen's warning of a dark curse threatening the land whispered in the back of his mind and his hand drifted closer to the hilt of his sword.

Provisions were produced by the knights from another saddlebag, dark bread, cured meat, hard cheese, and a handful of shiny red apples.

Apples.

"And the Queen offered Snow White an apple red as blood, and a choice. She could save herself, or save the man she loved."

Emma visibly blanched at the sight of them, turning away while Killian asked in an arch tone, "Her Majesty's gracious hospitality, I take it? How are any of you even going to eat with those things over your mouths, anyway?"

There was no reply to either question from the knight, still hidden away behind his mask, but it was clearly meant as a pointed message from the Queen as they drew closer and closer to her stronghold. He left the apples untouched and took the rest, guiding Emma to sit on a fallen log and laying the food out on his knee. She refused it all with a haughty lift of her chin, turning her head away to stare up at a fat bluebird perched in a nearby tree instead. He washed down the meal with rum from his flask, old experience had taught him to eat whenever he could, since food might be scarce later. The bird whistled, trilling a jaunty song that filled the air until it finally flew away in a rustle of tiny wings when the sky turned indigo and the sun was almost set. Before there was any mention of sleeping arrangements for the night Killian took matters into his own hands, hefting Emma bodily into his arms without warning while she let out a squeak of surprise and struggled instinctively against him. The door to the cottage gave way under one swift kick from his boot and he carried her over the threshold, leaving the knights and the coachman outside with a tart comment that he didn't desire an audience. Thankfully the door had a thick iron bolt on the inside and after being locked up in the carriage by the Queen's men he too grim pleasure in locking them out instead.

"I'm sorry, my love, that this was necessary."

He whispered it in her ear and tugged off her bonds, letting the rope fall to the floor. He'd left it as loose around her wrists as he dared but a few marks had appeared anyway, where it had chafed and scraped against the delicate skin and he cursed himself for not having Fergus fetch the salve. There was clearly nothing similar left in the cottage, it was comprised of a single room, dusty and sparse, with a few sticks of furniture, a table, a low stool, and a bed in the corner that had been stripped down to nothing but the straw tick. Shelves stood empty and there was no logs left in the hearth to start a fire, just some cold ashes, but a stub of a candle sat on the table. Before darkness enveloped them completely Killian pulled out a flint and striker to light it. His fingers kept slipping and it refused to catch, frustration boiling in his gut more and more with each failed attempt.

If he couldn't even light a bloody candle, then how in the hell was he going to stop the Evil Queen if Emma faltered? What good was a lone pirate so far from the sea, with nothing but a sword and a sharp tongue in the midst of this clash of magical queens?

He was on the verge of throwing flint, striker and the table against the wall in a fit of rage when a small hand settled lightly on his wrist, stilling his movements. Emma closed her eyes and her face creased in concentration while she made a cupping motion with her other hand, over the nearly flattened wick. Killian scarcely dared to breathe, feeling the air around them change. The flare of the candle springing to life was echoed under his skin, prickling like gooseflesh and making the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Magic. All it took was a single spark from her fingers and a tiny bit of light and warmth bloomed, but it was enough to chase away the darkness.

Long before he was a pirate, or even a sailor, he'd been a small boy who was terribly afraid of the dark.

The silence was broken by a faint growling sound that he was also more than familiar with from the darker days of his childhood, of which there were many, only it wasn't coming from him this time. Unlike the way everything else was going, he could do something about this and he went searching through the deep pockets of his coat for the hardtack he'd tucked away before leaving the Jolly. It was still wrapped securely in a handkerchief, none the worse for wear after the journey, and he broke off a piece and handed it to Emma with a stern look.

"You need to eat something."

He also had some boiled sweets left from their last sojourn in port, a particular weakness of hers, but he thought the more bland biscuit had less chance of upsetting her stomach again.

"Is that an order, Captain?" she asked.

There was a glimmer of amusement on her face in the yellow candlelight as they shared what had started out as haughty defiance and mellowed over time into a private jest between them.

"Aye, Princess," he answered, firm and unyielding at first. Then he lifted her hand and pressed a feather-light kiss to the inside of her wrist. "For me?" he added, knowing she wouldn't refuse him if he phrased it like that. A pirate wasn't above playing dirty to get what he wanted, and right now he wanted Emma to keep her strength up. Once she gave in and started nibbling at it he laid his coat aside and unbuckled his sword, making sure to leave it within reach, just in case.

They didn't talk much after that, each lost in their own thoughts as the candle burned down and shadows flickered on the dusty walls. Killian imagined all sorts of things in the twisting shapes, noble princes and devious kings, royal castles and proud ships, fairy queens and evil queens each with their own conflicting agendas centred around the woman he loved more than anything, his queen. One wanted a sacrifice to her vengeance, the other a saviour for the realm, two destinies that had been laid out long before she'd even been born and the same path had led to both ends, but whose desire would ultimately prevail?

The shadows all gradually merged into one and his silent question was left unanswered.

At some point during the night they turned to each other with the same wordless need, bedded down on the lumpy straw tick with Emma's cloak serving as a makeshift blanket. Lips met frantically in the dark, the candle had long gone out but the fire within was burning hotter than any flame and a groan rumbled deep in his chest as he rolled half on top of her and captured her wrists again, thumbs pressed to her fluttering pulse and his hips nudging hers with clear intent.

"Mine!" he practically growled in her ear, nipping the lobe between his teeth and relishing the way her head tipped back to give him more access to the long column of her throat, letting him nuzzle along the length of it. The delicate line of her collarbone was the perfect match to the sharp line of his jaw, her soft, rose-petal skin meeting the prickly thorns of his whiskers as his exhale was echoed by her inhale, rising as he fell, falling as he rose, the swell of her breasts pressed against his chest and her skirts tangled around his legs like a net.

He'd captured her, but he was caught fast in return.

With the enemy so close at hand they hadn't risked undressing, he was still in his trousers and shirt and she had only loosened the laces of her gown before they'd laid down for the night. Killian went up on his knees, letting go of Emma's hands to wrench open his leathers and shove them down to mid-thigh, freeing himself from the confinement and letting out a hiss as the cooler air touched his heated flesh. He was already hard and aching and more than ready to claim his royal prize. Her skirts were quickly bunched to her waist and he felt her legs fall open on either side of him in what seemed like a lady's hopeless surrender to a pirate's unbridled lust. There was some fumbling in the dark and then his hips were positioned square between her thighs, a mere heartbeat away from satisfaction.

It wasn't the gentle and tender lovemaking of courtly romance, nor was it the violent ravishment the Queen's men undoubtedly imagined was taking place. Emma was slippery with want and the hands that clutched his shoulders pulled him closer instead of pushing him away when he found home in a single, deep thrust. A low curse tumbled from his lips as she accepted the full length of him, a sensation that never failed to arouse him even more and the burn in his belly was at a near fever pitch. Far from surrendering, she had clasped him tight in her silken bondange and he went willingly, plunging deep with every stroke. There was a pounding in his ears like the roar of the absent tides, drowning out everything except the join of his body to hers. This was their story, their tale, writ between them in the fierce embrace and wordless cries while the rest of the world was held at bay outside the locked door. Let them all see him as nothing but a pirate, they could believe the falsehoods, the deception, embellish the details or tell it completely wrong, nothing else mattered than what had been sworn by solemn oath and pledged on the very blade that guarded them now.

"Emma," he gasped, burying his face into the crook of her neck. Her gown had slipped further down her shoulder and her legs tightened around his hips, holding him in place while he pinned her to the bed and took his pleasure. Killian knew he wasn't going to last much longer, but he managed to hold off until he felt her shudder under him and the dig of her nails even through his shirt, marks he'd gladly bear. Only then did he give in, spilling hot with one final thrust and even though the ground beneath them was flat and unmoving, he could still feel the rock of the distant ocean waves in her arms. Sea legs, he'd told her once.

The captain's bunk on the Jolly was narrow, built only for one. The bedframe was much wider, with room to spare, but they stayed in a tangle of limbs as if they were still on the ship with her head finding his shoulder in the dark and her hand laid on his chest, burrowing under his half-unbuttoned shirt to rest on the bare skin underneath instead. Emma's breathing changed as she fell asleep and her hold on him went slack, letting his thoughts drift from drowsy satisfaction into more troubled waters again. While he was glad that she was managing to find some rest, along with a not insignificant amount of male pride, slumber eluded him as unwanted pieces of the past kept clutching at his sleeve with icy fingers that refused to be pried away and sent back where they belonged, into the deep alongside the men who had died by his blade.

Emma knew pieces of his story, from the day he'd first haltingly told her about his brother and spoke Liam's name aloud for the first time in longer than Killian could remember.

"Once upon a time there had been two brothers, as close as any could be, seeking glory and adventure together on a secret mission from their king…"

He'd told her the tale of Liam's death and how he'd turned from naval lieutenant to lawless pirate and became captain of a ship he renamed the Jolly Roger, a tale of loss and betrayal and revenge. But that was the middle, not the beginning, and his story had really begun years prior just as Emma's started with a chance meeting on a forest road. For the first time in a long time Killian let himself go further back, before Neverland, before the brothers Jones had set off together on the Jewel of the Realm and only one came back, not shying away from the memories surfacing back up from the depths of his mind.

"Once upon a time there had been a father with two small sons, boarding a ship for what he promised was a new start in a new land for all of them…"

"Once upon a time there had been a family of four, poor but proud, and happy, so happy…"

And then it would come to that part, as it always did in his tales.

...until

….

...

He always sensed when water was near, like most sailors who had more saltwater in their veins than blood and told time by the movement of the tides. Killian looked out of the carriage window and caught a glimpse of what looked like the sea on first glance, making him start in surprise. He quickly realized that it was actually a lake, a large one and clearly deep, with water the same rich shade of blue as the sea diamond. Above it, a castle rose like a ship that had set permanent anchor, grey stone walls serving as the weathered hull, tall spires in place of masts piercing the sky and flags snapping taut in the wind. They were further inland than Killian had been in years and yet he'd found sea and shore both at the place his princess called home.

The carriage came to an abrupt halt that jolted them both forward again and the coachman opened the door to his black scowl as he unfolded himself and climbed out, turning to lift Emma down and keeping one hand on her back and the other on the hilt of his sword once she'd found her footing. She was the demure prisoner one more, quiet and biddable with her hands bound in front of her as per the Queen's command. Or as much of the Queen's command as he was willing to follow. The expected audience for their little show was absent, however, as there was no one in the empty courtyard to meet them and the knights swiftly departed without a word, accompanying the now empty carriage back through the gate at a swift clip and leaving the two of them alone.

"Not much for long, drawn out farewells then," Killian said with a shake of his head. In truth, he'd found the Black Knights more unsettling then he'd let on, with their flat, emotionless voices and identical masks that concealed any hint of the men underneath. For all the times in his life that he'd been accused of being heartless, to be forced to exist without one's heart as little more than a puppet to an absent master pulling the strings was a fate he wouldn't wish on any enemy.

He turned, trying to shrug off his disquiet as he swept his gaze over the narrow windows and scanned the empty parapets above, seeing no guards on watchful duty or curious servants attempting to sneak a peek from behind a curtain. Did the Evil Queen expect them to just cool their heels outside like beggars at her gate until she deigned to receive them? But just as he was about to bang on the doors and demand entrance they opened, seemingly of their own volition in a sudden gust of wind that raked through his hair like a lover's touch and lingered a moment too long inside his collar.

Not wind.

Magic.

As magic infused the famous tale of Snow White and her Prince Charming, it also permeated their castle and when they crossed the threshold into the entryway the doors closed behind them with no one on the other side and a heavy looking beam immediately slid across to bar both entry and escape. Emma's magic was light and warmth, as delicate and effervescent as champagne bubbles. The feeling in the air now was heavy, oppressive, cold and clammy against his skin like sailing through a bank of fog and Killian almost expected to see his breath when he exhaled. It was shadowed and dim inside the castle, the windows were heavily draped against the daylight outside and still nobody appeared to guide them to wherever the Evil Queen was obviously enconsed somewhere within.

"Now what?" he bit out, and as if in response another door swung open in a squeal of hinges to reveal a deep corridor. They both turned towards the sound, expecting someone, anyone, but there was only darkness and silence.

"Where does it lead?" he asked Emma.

"The Great Hall," she answered, a deep furrow between her brows. If even he could sense the Dark Magic in the air, then what was she feeling? He couldn't ask, not when they were clearly being observed, somehow. The pretense had to be maintained for a while longer.

He kept one hand firm on his sword as they proceeded down the long gallery, lit by torches that flared to life as they approached and died as soon as they passed, illuminating only the few steps in front and a sliver of the stone walls on either side. They were hung thick with rich tapestries and fine paintings but almost all of them were in a ruin. The finely woven scenes had been defaced with jagged slashes that had torn them almost in half in parts and there was what looked like burn marks on the portraits, the subjects scorched beyond recognition. Or almost, Killian recognized the distinctive hilt of the sword King David had wielded during their spar on the Jolly hanging from the waist of a now headless man in a red jacket, and Queen Snow White's coal-dark hair on a woman whose face was nothing but a melted blob of pigment that ran down an elaborate feathered gown. The amount of sheer, unbridled ragethat had gone into the destruction was palpable and it was obvious the Queen had staged this all because she wanted Emma to see it. She'd sent chains to bind Snow White's daughter, apples to taunt her, and now she'd forced her to walk a gauntlet of everything she knew and loved torn literally to shreds at her feet.

Emma stared straight ahead throughout their long walk, her head held high with that regal, unbowed posture he'd observed in her right from the beginning. As delicate and fragile as she looked, she was made of sterner stuff than the Queen knew and her pace never faltered at his side.

The gallery eventually opened up into a cavernous space that was undoubtedly the Great Hall, site of many a royal ball and banquet from Emma's tales. But there were no lords and ladies come to make merry and pay court, the vast chamber was nearly empty save for a tall mirror set in the middle of the room, a large rectangle of costly glass in an ornate frame. The mirror was flanked by two torches, the only source of light, and Killian could see their reflections in it, two small figures, one dark, one fair, growing larger and larger with each step. They seemed to ripple and undulate with their approach, as if he was looking into water instead of glass.

A feminine voice that was laced with amusement suddenly chimed in from behind them.

"Sorry I'm late."

The mirror reflected a swirl of purple smoke and they both whirled around, Killian drawing his sword on instinct and pointing it at the woman who stepped out of the cloud as easily as if she'd just stepped through an open door. She had raven hair that was piled up high above her forehead, revealing a face that was heavy with cosmetics. Lashes thick as feathers under dark arched brows, cheeks slashed with rouge and crimson lips curled in a smirk. Gems almost the size of plums hung from her ears and she wore a narrow gown that clung to her like a glove, lavishly trimmed in black lace. The effect was both severe and seductive, she was far younger than the aged crone Killian had expected and in truth, she couldn't actually be all that much older than her former stepdaughter, Snow White.

"Regina," Emma breathed beside him, sounding as startled by the sight of the famed Evil Queen herself in the flesh as he felt.

One arched brow quirked even more and displeasure was clear in her tone when she replied, "That's a bit informal, don't you think? I prefer Your Majesty."

She glided towards them and Killian tensed, his sabre held in a defensive position that seemed to turn her annoyance back into amusement when her gaze flicked down to it.

"Come now, Captain Jones, there's no need for weapons here. We are allies, after all."

He found himself grasping empty air, with a flick of her wrist the sword disappeared and his arm dropped at the sudden loss of weight. Emma's eyes went wide with shock and the Queen chuckled, moving past them with that unhurried, languid stride. Another wave of her hand made a sideboard appear next to the mirror, with a crystal decanter and two goblets set on top. He maneuvered himself in front of Emma while the Queen's back was turned, confused that she seemed to be scarcely paying them any mind as she poured out ruby red wine. She picked up both goblets and held one out to him in her slim hand, her long, pointed nails varnished nearly black.

"A toast," she trilled. "To commemorate this long awaited victory. For the both of us, I hope."

Killian wasn't quite sure what she meant by that, but he accepted the drink and tapped his cup against hers, nothing the way her dark eyes roamed over him from head to toe with a calculating look before she took a sip. The goblets were solid gold, studded all over with jewels and had to be worth as much as a small ship apiece. Under any other circumstances he would have tried to nick one when she wasn't looking, but now was not the time for a spot of petty thievery. Something was definitely amiss, the Queen had barely spared Emma more than that single glance when she'd addressed her by her given name, an odd reaction given the lengths she'd gone to find her. He silently cursed that she'd taken his sword, he could have run her right through himself before she finished her wine and been done with it once and for all.

Better the blood be on his hands than Emma's, anyway.

But with no blade he could do nothing except play the role the Queen expected, so he put on his own smirk and rolled the stem of the goblet between his fingers. "Thank you, Your Majesty. Normally I prefer spirits to wine, but that was an excellent vintage."

"Spirits?" she repeated, her voice taking on a new, playful inflection. "What is it that pirates are said to drink? Rum, if I'm not mistaken."

"Aye."

The decanter was joined on the sideboard by a smoky glass bottle and his goblet turned into a tumbler more suited for drinking liquor instead of wine. It was done in barely a blink, she seemed to wield magic as effortlessly as breathing and it only made him more wary.

"Help yourself," she offered. "Ordinarily my valet would be here to serve, but, well, that position has been vacant for some time now."

She glanced away for a moment, her gaze cast towards the floor and fingers smoothing a non-existent wrinkle from her gown while out of the corner of his eye Killian thought he saw a faint glow coming from between Emma's hands, still wrapped in the rope. The plan had been for him to get them close enough so she could quickly stun the Queen with magic, enough to render her unconscious. Then she would be taken immediately to the dungeon, where a cage that had once held the Dark One himself would bind her power and keep her from escaping. Everything hinged on the element of surprise, to catch her unaware before she could retaliate and the perfect opportunity had just presented itself. He flicked his gaze between them, trying to signal without words for Emma to strike and to strike now.

But the glow faded away instead, her magic turning mercurial again at the worst possible moment and she shot him a helpless look while he cursed silently inside his head. This was what he'd feared the most, that she wasn't yet ready to take on the Queen and he'd brought her straight into the viper's nest with no chance of escape. All he could do now was try to buy her some more time, so he made a show of swaggering over to fill his new cup and keep the Queen's attention on him, away from Emma.

"Will you join me for a tipple?" he asked, lifting the bottle with one finger through the handle and letting it swing back and forth. "Savour the victory some more?

"While I intend to savour this victory to the fullest, Captain, I don't do rum. No offense."

"None taken," he replied with a shrug. "More for me then."

Instead of pouring the rum into the glass, Killian tossed it over his shoulder and lifted the bottle to his lips instead. He took a healthy swig, feeling the all too familiar burn of the liquor in the back of his throat but far from savouring it, he barely tasted anything at all. He did note the close way the Queen was observing him with her head tilted slightly to the side and a familiar smile playing at the edge of her vermillion lips. He could play this game and play it very well, so he rolled his tongue over his teeth and returned her grin.

"Delicious," he said, slowly drawing out the word.

"Flavoured with just a hint of apple. Did you know that it can take up to ten years for an apple tree to finally bear fruit after planting?"

It would be an innocuous statement from anyone except Snow White's stepmother. She continued on, her gaze locked on his and her voice dripping with insinuation. "Ten years...can you imagine sinking in your teeth for that first bite, after waiting so long for satisfaction? To finally have what you've been denied for so many years at long last. Wouldn't you agree?"

He pretended to mull it over for a moment before giving a careless shrug. "I suppose so."

"I thought you would."

Despite his easy posture his nerves were drawn tight as a bowstring, wondering if what he feared was correct and she intended to repeat history with another poisoned apple. Would his own kiss be enough to wake Emma if she fell into the same death-like sleep her mother had? He loved her more than anything, but only the power of True Love's Kiss would break that curse, the rarest magic of all, and tendrils of doubt started to curl around his heart.

His momentary lapse in focus was enough to lose the Queen's interest as she focused back on Emma while her silky voice took on a more dangerous edge.

"Tell me, little princess, do you know the truth of what your mother did to me? Or did she finally learn to keep a damn secret in the end and weaned you instead on those silly tales for children, that I was nothing but vain and jealous of her beauty?"

Each word made the air between them crackle like the lash of a whip, but while she might be unable to summon her magic, Emma was still the woman who had faced him down at his worst without it and she did the same to the Evil Queen herself, meeting her fury head on.

"She told me that the man you loved died, and in your grief you turned to dark magic in search of revenge."

"Died?" the Queen shrieked, her regal composure clearly starting to crack. "Died?" He was murdered! His heart was ripped out and crushed before my eyes, and it was all because of her! She swore she wouldn't tell and as soon as my back was turned she broke her promise like it was nothing. Like he was nothing, when he was everything to me!"

Snow White had also told him in confidence about the Queen's lover, a man of low birth with whom she'd tried to run away before her marriage to the king. Omitted from all the tales, few even knew about his existence and the real reason for her descent into villainy and vengeance.

"We were happy...but that spoiled brat just had to have her own way, didn't she? The great hero, Snow White, champion of the people...she stole that happiness away from me. She was a sneaky little thief long before she was a bandit, and somehow I was the one who was called evil for thinking she should be punished for it."

She drew herself up to her full height with her magic at the ready and gowned in dark splendor, painted and jewelled, he saw nothing but the Evil Queen of tale in all her terrible glory.

"Any last words before I punish you in her stead, Princess Emma?"

"I'm sorry, Regina. I know you probably don't believe that, but I truly am."

The simple apology made her stiffen, freezing her in place. "You're sorry," she repeated, her lips twisted in a sneer. "Snow White's daughter is sorry. She said that too, that she was sorry. How nice. Only sorry doesn't bring back the dead."

"No," Emma agreed, perfectly calm in the eye of the gathering storm. "It doesn't. And whatever it is you're planning to do to me won't bring him back either."

"Oh, but it will make me very happy."

Emma's voice echoed slightly in the large, empty chamber. "Are you happy now, Your Majesty?"

When the Queen didn't reply she pressed on. "You won. This is your great victory at last. You hold the keys to the kingdom and everyone bows to you, the castle is yours and my parents are...my parents are gone. You got everything you wanted in the end and did any of it make you really, truly happy? Was any of it enough?"

Killian could tell from the furious look on her face that Emma had struck a nerve, just as she'd done when she'd thrown his own words back in his face and, like then, she did it without any regard for her own safety. A ball of flame suddenly appeared in the Queen's palm.

"Let's find out," she snarled, and before all hell could break loose he stepped between them.

"Now, now," he chided with a click of his tongue, putting two fingers carefully on her wrist and pushing her hand to the side. "They'll be no damaging the goods, at least not until I get what was promised to me. We had a deal, you and I, remember?"

For a moment he thought her fury would turn on him instead, but after a long moment she gave a clipped nod and pursed her lips to blow the flame out instead. Relief flooded through him, more welcome than the rum.

"How could I forget. Of course, you want your reward."

The coquette was back again, her sneer turning to a simper while she reached out a hand to toy with the lapel of his coat, running a finger along it until her arm was draped over his shoulder and those painted lips pressed to his ear.

"But first, tell me something. Did you enjoy her, Captain?"

Far from a discreet whisper, it was said loudly enough for Emma to hear and she stared back at them, mouth turning to a thin line and a crimson flush rising at once on her pale cheeks. The Queen's breath was warm against his skin but all Killian could feel was ice in the pit of his stomach.

"Aye," he answered, trying his best to sound indifferent. "She was my prize and it was my right as captain. Besides, I'd never had a princess before and you can hardly blame a man for wanting to crown himself king for a night...or several."

"That's what I thought," she murmured, clearly pleased with the callousness of his answer. She tipped her head back and laughed with one hand resting lightly on his chest.

"A far cry from that insipid, so-called "True Love" your mother and father share, or shared, I should say, wasn't it, little princess? You know what? You're right, none of my victories made me happy, but I'm going to change all that and making you suffer day after endless day, now that's just what I need to make up for having the satisfaction of getting to watch Snow White die taken from me."

Emma's eyes were bright with unshed tears in the torchlight, shimmering like gemstones. Magic be damned, if the Queen hadn't taken his sword he would have it at her throat by now to show her just how dangerous it was to goad a pirate and insult his lady.

"I have a proposition for you."

She pulled back and went to pour herself more wine while he fought madly to control his temper. When this was finally over he'd go down on his knees and beg Emma's forgiveness, be the man she loved again, the man he'd wanted to be ever since that spark had ignited between them, and not this cruel imitation who gave the Queen a knowing look and a lascivious smirk at her suggestive offer.

"Oh? And just what exactly are you proposing?"

"Something for our mutual benefit, I assure you. Let me tell you a story, almost twenty years ago I'd planned to enact a curse, one that would take everyone in the kingdom to a new land, a faraway realm where the name Snow White would be forgotten at last and I could finally find the happiness that eluded me here."

A curse.

The curse that Emma's parents had feared for all these years and the Fairy Queen had warned against, the one that was supposed to take away all the happy endings. The curse that the Dark One had prophecy had said Emma would break...on her twenty-eighth birthday, still almost a decade away.

"Think of it," she said, soft and enticing. "A new land full of undiscovered treasures just waiting for a man like you to find them."

"Plenty of undiscovered treasures still left here," he countered, wondering why it sounded like she was trying to convince him of the merits of this new land.

"Ah," the Queen conceded with a dip of her chin. "True, however even with my signature on a royal charter naming you my subject and giving assent for your activities, you will always been seen as nothing more than a lowly pirate. I know a little bit about that, you see, they call me Queen but I will always be the interloper, the usurper, the one who stole Snow White's rightful crown. Much as we may wish to, we can't escape our pasts."

Deserter. Turncoat. Pirate.

Every eiptath that had ever been thrown at him whispered again in Killian's ear, inescapable even aboard his own ship thanks to the open contempt of Lieutenant Courtice. More were also sure to come, now that he'd freely boasted of bedding and deflowering the beloved princess of the realm.

Debaucher.

Defiler.

It took him a moment to focus back on the Queen, still talking between sips of her wine. "I found it curious that you didn't ask for the reward I offered for Princess Emma, very curious for a pirate of your renown. Yes, I know who you are, Captain Killian Jones. But then I figured out what it was you really wanted. Legitimacy. With my curse I can provide much more than that. It shouldn't even be called a curse, it's really a clean slate. A chance to start over. Everyone will be given a new life, new memories, and the Enchanted Forest will be nothing more than a dream you forget as soon as you wake up. Of course, some of these new lives will be more pleasant than the others, and I can ensure your life there is extremely pleasant, you'll have wealth, power, be admired and envied by all you encounter. I'll put you in a position that commands respect, where no one will remember all those dirty little secrets you've tried to keep hidden. Now, does that sound like such a terrible curse?"

She addressed it to him with an expectant look that soured when it was Emma who answered instead.

"It sounds like one of the Dark One's deals, and my parents taught me that those always come with a price."

The Queen's tone turned from velvet to venom. "I wasn't talking to you. Was she this insolent aboard your ship?"

Emma's insolence aboard the Jolly had driven him absolutely mad and highly amused him both in equal measure. Frequently at the same time. He shot her a stern look though, to keep up the ruse. "She learned to obey my orders in the end. Didn't you, darling? But if you're not going to kill her, then what do you plant to do with her, Your Majesty?"

He steered the conversation back to what really mattered, trying to get as much information as he could without arousing her suspicion. Keep Emma as her prisoner? Torture her for the sins of her mother? He'd have to figure out how to spirit her away from the castle without getting them both killed and figure it out quickly, take her back to the ship and attempt to outrun the reach of the Queen's curse. If such a thing was possible, it would only be possible aboard the Jolly.

The Queen smiled at Emma through lips the red of apples and fresh-spilled blood.

"Like I said, some lives in my new land will be more pleasant than others. There'll be no more royal trappings, no title, no servants there to wait on her hand and foot. No more pretty gowns or princes begging for her hand, no one coming to save her. Ever. She'll be alone, completely and utterly alone, and then she'll finally understand what it's like to live without love, without hope, without happiness. You could even keep on enjoying her, if you like, as much as you want, since you certainly earned your reward. Snow White's precious little princess turned into nothing more than a concubine to a pirate. Yes, that will make me very happy indeed."

He felt a shock run right through him at that, meeting Emma's wide-eyed gaze across the room. They had all thought the Queen was going to try to kill her before casting this mysterious curse, but if she was willing to both spare Emma and give her to him in this land where he would have power and prestige, then he could shelter and shield her with the Queen being none the wiser for it. She said they wouldn't remember, but there was no realm in which he wouldn't love Emma, his princess, his swan, memory be damned, and she fell in love with him once despite all the many reasons why she shouldn't. He could win her heart again in the new land, he was sure of it.

"Would it really be so terrible, Princess?" he asked. She looked back at him and there was nothing but the two of them in that moment, no Evil Queen, no kingdom in peril, nothing but the beat of his heart in his chest and his silent vow to follow wherever she led.

"You are my queen, and to you I pledge my sword and my fealty."

"My Queen."

Another voice chimed in, deep and rich with the accent of a distant shore. But the chamber was still empty save for the three of them, and Killian realized it was coming from inside the mirror. The reflection had disappeared completely and a face emerged from what looked like stormclouds, trapped somehow within the glass. It was clearly a man's face, though he lacked any form beyond his strange, grey visage. From faceless knights under her absolute control to a man who was nothing but a face in a mirror, was there no end to the Queen's dark magic?

The face spoke again, "Your other guest has just arrived, Your Majesty."

Other guest? Killian's confusion was reflected on Emma's face while the Queen was clearly pleased by the news, setting her goblet down on the sideboard in a swish of her fine gown and moving with purpose.

"I have a gift for you, Captain," she said, pausing to draw her nail under his chin and turning his head so that he was facing the doors. "You brought me one, and I thought it only fitting that I return the favour."

She flicked her wrist and they opened with a flourish. Torches blazed to life and two of the Black Knights entered, dragging a third man between them. Killian caught the barest glimpse of his face before he was shoved unceremoniously inside and fell to the floor in a heap with his head bent, his thick dark hair shot through heavily with silver. The man was tall, as tall as his brother had been, broad in the shoulders under a coarse linen shirt. Killian felt his heart beat faster at the sight of him and a sickening lurch in his belly. No. No, it couldn't be…

The Queen's voice cut through the haze that suddenly surrounded him, ordering the knights out and looping her arm through his to urge him forward.

"Snow White betrayed me in the worst possible way, by making me believe she could be trusted. It's a terrible thing to be betrayed by family, isn't it? The wound never truly heals no matter how much time passes. Five years, or ten, or sixteen…"

Sixteen years ago. Sixteen years ago he'd been a lad of eleven.

"Once upon a time there had been a father with two small sons, boarding a ship for what he promised was a new start in a new land for all of them…"

"Your Majesty, I swear I've done nothing, please. Please," the man begged in a voice that was familiar and unfamiliar both, thinner and watery with age. Killian's fingers curled against his thigh and he swallowed hard against the sudden lump in his throat.

The Queen ignored the desperate pleas and continued on as if he hadn't spoken. "Allow me to make the introductions. Princess Emma, daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, meet Brennan Jones."

The shaggy head lifted at that and his gaze settled on Emma, thick brows that were twin to Killian's own knitting in confusion. The face was older, more grizzled and lined than the last memory Killian had of the man who knelt in front of him now.

Brennan Jones.

His father.

#Beyond the Horizon #cs fic #cs ff #my fic #cs au fic

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thefirelookout · 4 years

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Childhood fear

When I was four years old, I began to draw snakes in my drawing khata.

A traditional “drawing khata” is a thing of childish beauty. Sometimes it is the size of your laptop in length and breadth, sometimes it can be a bit longer, depends on the child really. Oh, sorry about that, depends on the school that the child goes to. There are usually photos of national monuments on top, and there is a little portion near the bottom where one can write their name, roll no., section and subject. This is obviously a copy for the art class, yet there is the “subject” written on top. Funny. Inside, the pages are made of cartridge paper, which is sometimes known as art/chart paper. The surface is smooth on one side, a little textured on the other. No matter how tempted you are to draw on the smooth side, thinking that your pencils and crayons would glide on smoothly, you really need to draw on the textured side. Especially if you’re a watercolour type of person. The colour bleeds into the textured surface better, and does not spread. I didn’t know all these things at the time, of course. I would open the copy and draw on whichever side, sometimes on both sides to prevent wastage. My mother says, “Opochoykari shoytaaner bondhu”. I heard the “shoytaner bhai” version much later on in life.

Four year old Mustu was homeschooled back then, an arrangement that was to last for just one year. After that, hopefully, Papa will have a better posting. Mustu will have a school to go to, hopefully, after her father’s duties ended at the Chittagong Hill Tracts. Alikadam was a pristine cantonment where all the military personnel lived in thatched huts. Only the C.O lived in a tin shed house with his wife and his two little bullies—Hridi and Odri. I liked our house better, of course. We had a proper garden at the front, a swing, a walkway with flower beds around it. I learnt the name of many flowers, and here is a song that my mother taught me—

Tomar neel dopati chokh

Ar shet dopati hashi

Khopa ti te laal dopati

Dekhte bhalobashi

Dopati is a flower. So is morog phool. I realized much later on in life that not many are interested in flowers, so I lost interest in them too.

We had a lovely backyard too, and we could plant vegetables round the year. I remember arriving there in a little blue coat, with my silky hair “mushroom cut” before the move happened, my form lean and my cheeks chubby. My lips were still very thin. When we arrived, I went to explore the backyard in the afternoon after the initial unpacking was done. Dadu held my hand as I trotted in front of her. I discovered the hens during this trip—pitch black feathers with a red “jhuti” each, as much as the nature would allow a female chicken. I burst into a rhyme immediately—

“Higgledy piggledy, my black hen,

She lays eggs for gentlemen,

Gentlemen come every day

To count what my black hen doth lay”

Dadu was absolutely delighted. Higgledy and Piggledy. My two black hens. One name, yet conveniently separated into two. You pronounce them as “Hig-ly” and “Pig-ly”. We also met the cauliflower, the cabbage and the carrots growing in the garden patch. Memories left by the “previous” 2IC uncle and his family, memories that were to become food for the new 2IC and his family, the then Major Qazi Abidus Samad. My old man didn’t have his beard back then. He was clean shaven and kinda cute, he still is kinda cute. He just smiles and nods, has never hit me or scolded me. He’s the easier parent.

One day while I was peeing, Papa was standing outside, because I was only just learning how to clean myself. In the bamboo weave of the walls, I saw something white slithering away slowly, taking its time and checking things out on its way. I looked at it for some time, still used to fear from only one source. “Papa, wall er upor diye ki jeno chole jacche, eke beke!”

The army man understood. He hurried in, brought me down from the commode and told me not to be scared. I pulled my shorts up, and fixed my frock and wore my sandals. Some men came in with a couple of “lathis”. The little snake was taken care of.

This little snake became something of a martyr to me.

I learnt that carbolic acid had some special properties, it helped ward off snakes. We snake proofed our house in the following weeks by putting bottles of carbolic acid in different corners of the house, and made sure that at least one remained in each bathroom. I was not stupid, nobody had to forbid me to touch it or sniff it or drink it or play with it. I eyed the bottles every time I went to pee at the different bathrooms, and that was that. The bottles became a part of our lives, there but not there.

I like to think that Alikadam was my starting point. Let me try and explain this feeling, or why I feel that way so strongly. Before Alikadam, I was a mere toddler. Even though my mother and khalamoni keep telling me stories from when I was little, I don’t remember being that child. I don’t remember living in Dhaka, nor do I remember what Dhaka looked like. Some of my earliest memories is of the white Toyota Papa used to drive, and that too, being driven up the twists and turns of the hilly Hill Tracts, straight to Alikadam. I get flashes of earlier memories sometimes, me reciting difficult poems (“Kukur ashiya emon kamor dilo pothiker paye/ Kamorer chote bish daat fute bish lege gelo taay”), me playing a game of tag-you’re-it that I named “Abiyala” and running after our domestic help, me staring at the TV while the azaan aired just before iftar. These memories are merely fragments, but from Alikadam, my memories somewhat solidified. I remember the colour of the cow that I first saw being sacrificed, I remember the colour of my coats and my frocks, I remember which tree I used to sit under and read to myself, I remember Dadu’s voice, her sarees, her face when I annoyed her a little too much.

I vividly remember the cat who pawed at a cake that Ammu was excited about baking. She usually makes a weird face while baking or cooking, her heart is never in it. But back then she was really into baking. I remember hearing a little “bump” and a “maw”, and then running to the dining room. Ammu had just gotten out of the shower, she had heard it too. We both saw it. A tuxedo cat, black and white, was meticulously drawing patterns on the golden, square cake still sitting in its pan. Some patterns went horizontally, some vertically, some obliquely. The cat wasn’t eating any of it even by mistake. Ammu drove it away, of course, and threw the cake away somewhere that no human being could find it. “Listen,” she explained to me, “If somebody else finds it and eats it, they’re going to have an upset stomach, so we throw this away.” Actually, she never explained anything. She never explains anything. I just made that explanation up.

My mother doesn’t talk about the important things.

I’ve been afraid of my mother for as long as I can remember. Perhaps my earliest memory is of her carrying a “bhajir kathi” also known as a khunti, also known as a spatula, only made of iron and quite painful if one falls upon your back. My earliest memory of her is her terrorizing me with one of those scalding hot bhajir kathis, she just standing there and implying that she would beat me up. I was a baby, crying was my second nature, as it is for every other baby in the world. She would carry that spatula and display it before me as a deterrent. Fear made sure that I immediately stopped crying, not words of comfort.

I liked to fill my drawing khata with snakes for another reason.

That summer, there was a kalboishakhi jhor at least ten times more violent than what Dhaka experiences. Some of our lighter furniture was gone with the wind, one of our bigger trees in the backyard fell flat on its face. When the weather calmed down, my mother had the bright idea of picking the mangoes that the storm had brought to the ground. Dadu sat herself down on a chair at the front porch, I ran around in the bare verandah, and Ammu took a bucket with her on her mango-mission.

We suddenly heard some unintelligible mumbling from under the mango tree.

“Joleeeeeeel….Joleeeeeeel” “Ammu ki bolo?”

“Joleeeeel….Joleeeeeel”

Her voice was muffled, which is so unlike her. My mother was always shouting at anyone and anything, so I was clearly baffled at her changed behaviour. I did understand though, that she was calling one of our trustworthy Mess Waiters, Joleel bhai. He was a jolly, ever-smiling guy who never said a word extra to any children in the absence of their parents. He was just as pleasant as necessary, and I loved that about him.

And then we saw it.

A fat, patterned snake was slithering under some long, curly mango leaves on the ground. I fell in love with the pattern instantly—a glossy black stripe followed by a stripe as yellow as the insides of a kathgolap. It wasn’t moving towards Ammu at all, it was minding its own business, slithering away. I didn’t see its eyes, but could figure out where the head and the tail was. The snake, slick with rain, was just busy rummaging under the leaves for any mice or mole, perhaps.

Ammu finally found some strength in her voice. “JOLEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLL”

The Mess was nearby, so this time, there was a, “Jee khalamma!” as a reply. Joleel bhai had heard it, and probably had sensed it too. He brought a few other men with him. With sticks, of course.

The snake was a Shonkhochur. Their kind move around in pairs. So the one that died that night, under the mango tree, would have a mate lurking somewhere, ready to strike. We met the black and yellow mate too, but not before it was time to leave.

I became fascinated by the only thing that my mother was scared of, the Shongkhochur snake. I opened my drawing book one day and took some colour pencils in hand. With the pencil for writing I brought the snake’s silhouette alive in my copy, complete with the inflated head, the “fona”. I then proceeded to draw stripes. Then I was finally ready to colour it in. One black, one yellow, one black and one yellow. I realized that I had drawn a tongue too, a divided one, the type I had only seen on TV. I decided to use red for the tongue, after the colour of my own.

I tore the drawing out of the copy, and brought myself some scotch tape. I stuck four corners of it to the paper to the wall with four pieces of tape. Finally something that my mother was scared of. Finally something to make her stop when she’s blind with rage, and charging at me in full speed to hit me or taunt me.

Finally something to ward off evil.

A Shongkhochur, by the way, is a King Cobra.

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themadlostgirl · 5 years

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Tortured

*This is a long one*

Prompt: Y/N is tortured by Hook and Peter helps her overcome her fears regarding it

Requested by: anon

Warnings: language, torture

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Neverland is not a safe place. Not for anyone. You always need to have our guard up. That’s the first thing everyone learns when they come to Neverland. It may be fun and there are no rules but that just means that it doesn’t matter what happens to you. There will be no one to stop the injustice. So you had better be able to look after yourself.

Stop looking over your shoulder for one second, think that nothing can touch you for one moment, and everything goes downhill. That’s how I ended up in my current situation.

I had been taking a walk around Neverland by myself. Humming a tune and admiring the scenery when the horde of pirates descended upon me. I fought but I was outnumbered and one well placed blow had me dizzy and unstable long enough for them to get a sack over my head and ropes around my wrists.

Without any other options I shuffled along with my aching head as I was forced into a row boat and paddled out to sea. I was hauled up into the air and dropped on the wooden planks of a ship. I was on the Jolly Roger. Why though? Why did the pirates bring me here? What use could they have for me?

I was tugged back to my feet and dragged away again. Directions were wonky right now but knew I had been taken far below deck. I couldn’t feel the sun on my shoulders. This is getting worse and worse. I wriggled about trying to free myself from the rough grip on my arms but they held sure.

The pain was subsiding and I had regained my senses enough to fight back harder. I landed a kick on one of them and had wrestled one of my arms free before I was pushed down on something hard. It took many hands to pin me down and keep me tethered to the surface I was forced on.

“Hood off,” I heard a voice say.

The sack around my head had been yanked off. I squinted into the semi-darkness and up into the face of one Captain Hook. I hadn’t had many interactions with the pirate captain but I didn’t need to to know that I was really up a creek now.

“Hello, Y/N,” he said, “I’ll cut straight to the chase. I want information about your demon leader. You can either tell me what you know now before the bad things happen or I force it out of you with the bad things.”

“You gonna torture me, captain?” I rolled my eyes. “I can cope with torture.”

“Thought you would say that.” He pulled out a jug and looked at another pirate hovering on my other side. “Do it.”

A sack was forced back over my head but it was tightened so it pressed flat against my face.

I was ready for a lot of pain. Cut my skin, break my bones, bruise my flesh, I was ready for it all. I could cope with pain. This wasn’t any of that though.

Water was poured over my face--the sack. It clung to my face like a second skin. I gasped for breath but I couldn’t find any. I couldn’t breathe!

I strained and struggled against my bonds with all my might. I need to get out of here! I need to breathe! I can’t breathe!

The sack was yanked back far enough that my mouth and nose were free. I gulped in air, coughing and sputtering as I cleared the salt water from my throat.

“Tell me what you know about Peter Pan.” Hook asked. His voice was too calm for my liking.

“You are an absolute bastard.” I spat.

The hood was drawn back over my mouth and another pitcher of sea water poured over me. I struggled and kicked wrenching my head from side to side in an attempt to escape.

“Tell me what you know about Peter Pan.” Hook repeated.

“Go to hell!”

Another wave of water. I forgot that I wasn’t really drowning.