#quashing my urge to color anything so I don’t burn out
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October is here, and this year I’m working off a list of fantastical beast names (#Strangetober on Instagram) and making them into birgworld fauna
So as not to spam the world, I think I’ll share them in groups of 4 like this (assuming I can keep this up!)
1. The Maned Besk: Males of this species bear enormous, pincerlike forelimbs used for grappling opponents in an attempt to flip them over.
2. The Narhegg: A fox sized predator that subdues prey larger than itself with the grip of its scissorlike jaws
3. The stinking Saalg: A small omnivore that defends itself using a foul smelling secretion from its two “tails”
4. The Leatherwing Fairy: Aside from the texture of its wings, this sparrow sized bugbird is noteworthy for its habit of feeding on the blood of larger animals when its preferred fruits are not in season
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Walk in the Gardens (allergy fic)
Please do not reblog to non-sneeze-kink blogs. Please do no interact if you are under 18.
You walk through the park hand-in-hand with them, listening to them ramble about their week. Their face shifts expressions as easily as breathing as they tell the story, and you can hardly look away. Occasionally you chime in with commentary, but mostly you watch them.
They cut themself off with a gasp and a tight squeeze of your hand. “Look!” they say, already dragging you forward. “I didn’t know this park had a garden!”
You feel a sense of trepidation looking at the vast spread of blooming flowers, but a single look at their excited face quashes any objection. Instead, you smile back and let yourself be led.
They pull you from one bloom to the next, gushing about the colors. You do your best to focus on their smile, their bouncing hair, their bright eyes, instead of thinking about the tickly beginning to take residence in your nose.
You don’t know the names of the flowers, because there was never any point to learning. You’re allergic to all of them; there’s no need to list them out. You instead catalogue them by the size and shape and the drips of pollen down their petals.
“Oh, look at this one,” they say, leaning forward to take a whiff of a circle of orange petals framing a nest of yellow pollen. They sigh in happiness. “It smells so good. Here, you try.”
They tug you closer, then push the flower into your face. You take in a breath on instinct and nearly choke on the pollen. You blink rapidly. “It smells really good,” you agree, pulling back as far as you can without seeming suspicious. They beam at you, then pull you along to the next bunch.
Hih. As subtly as you can, you rub your nose. Despite your efforts, the itch only grows, spreading to your eyes and deep into your nasal lining. Shit.
They look back at you and you drop your hand to your side, meeting their smile. You can feel your nose twitching, your eyes watering. They pause, taking a closer look at you, and you quickly redirect their attention to the flowers ahead. Luckily, the distraction works.
You bring your hand back to your nose, rubbing fiercely. You do your best to even your breathing, but the itch rises, rises…
Hh-Hiih—
You squeeze your nose shut between your thumb and pointer finger, stifling a sneeze. N’tshx! Your eyelids flutter, and you duck into another stifle, then a second. N’ghx! N’shxk!
You take several breaths, still pinching your nose, and when no more sneezes follow you let out a sharp breath and return your attention to your partner. They’re moving onto another set of flowers, onto layered yellow petals framed like a heart.
“Look at these!” they say, cupping a hand around one. “They look just like that painting at my mom’s house, don’t they?”
You clear your throat and give a soft agreement. They look back at you, smile fading. “You alright, darling?”
You consciously straighten your spine. “Of course.”
They frown. “You're not talking very much today.”
You smile softly, hoping it comes across as loving rather than pained. “I just like hearing you talk. You’re beautiful when you’re this animated.”
“What, am I not beautiful otherwise?” they ask, but their blush betrays them. They hide their smile by turning, but only a moment later they turn back with a broken-off flower in hand. Your heart stops. They stand on their toes to secure it behind your ear, giving you a single kiss on the nose before backing up. “You’re beautiful, too,” they say, then grabs your hand and moves on.
You wish you could appreciate the compliment, but every fiber of your being has become aware of the flower tucked next to your face. Your eyes begin watering harder, and you wipe them in a quick, jerky motion. Your nostrils flare, your nose fills with congestion, and the itch there ignites to a burning flame deep into your sinuses.
You hold your breath, but it’s not enough to save you. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, and you pinch your nose shut an instant before the eruption.
Hh’gtCHX! Nt’itnsx! Hit’sCHXT!
You swipe at your eyes again, breath steadying. You take deep breaths and begin to relax.
Then your partner turns to you in question, and when you look up the flower slips, brushing against your cheek and falling to the ground. Despite the irritant’s disappearance, the motion brushes up enough pollen to set you off again.
Hnn’GTCH! Ht’nCHx! Hi’TCHOO!
You break your hand from your partner’s hold, bringing it to your face.
Hst’ktSH! HK’gtxh! Hh… hih’STCCHX!
On and on it goes, your body nearly bending with the force. The longer it goes, the louder they come, the less you’re able to stifle.
When you catch your breath, you find yourself on the ground, partner kneeling beside you.
“Shit, Babe, are you okay?” they ask, leaning in and tilting your head up to look at them. Your eyes widen. Sometime when you weren’t paying attention they put a flower behind their own ear, and as they lean forward more pollen shakes loose. You don’t have enough air to hold your breath, so you breathe in the allergen unwillingly, and you have only a single breath before you’re off again, long past stifling.
Ehhh… hehh-k’tchiew! Heh’kschoo! Hh… hh’KSCHEW! H’TSCHUU
“Shit,” they repeat, grabbing your shoulder. “What’s happening?”
H’THCEIW! “It’s—Hk’tchiew! It’s my… hh… my all-aller—heh’ktSHH! K’TSHIEW! SK’TCHUU!” You gasp for air. Your hands are still cupped around your nose and mouth, and you can feel tears drip down on them. You look up with bleary eyes to your partner. “T-the… hh… the fl-flow—” you inhale wrong, and the tickle erupts in your sinuses again. You set off in another string of sneezes, each loud and wet and strong enough to make your chest ache.
You’re maneuvered to your feet, and you blindly let your partner guide you. You can’t focus on anything but the—
Hsk’SCHHH! KT’SHOO! SCH’TCHIEW!
Eventually you’re sat in what you vaguely recognize as your car. Between sneezes, you become aware of the mess covering your face and hands, and you look to your partner. They know what you’re looking for immediately and reach into the back for a towel. You take it gratefully and bury your face in it. HK’TSCHEW! HT’SCHHH! Hh… hh… heh-hit’KTSCIEW!
The sneezing peters off after what feels like hours. When you look up your partner is holding out a handful of tissues, and you try to convey how grateful you are with a look. You wipe your face and hands and blow your nose harshly. When you’re done, you grimace at the dirty tissues in your hand.
“Sorry,” you whisper, wiping tears from your eyes with another tissue. Even though the tissues are soft, they feel like sand against your gritty eyes.
“Don’t be sorry!” your partner says, setting a hand on your thigh. “Allergies aren’t your fault. I just wish you told me earlier.”
You close your eyes. “Still, I’m sorry I ruined our date.”
They kiss your cheek. “Don’t be sorry,” they repeat softly. “I care more about your health than I do a single date.” They tilt your face up so they can kiss your lips. “There will be more dates.”
“I love you,” you say.
“I love you too,” They tuck their head under your chin, resting against your chest. You lean back against the carseat, relishing the moment.
Hih. It’s interrupted by a familiar tickle, and you open your eyes. Hh— Dread mounts as you finally notice the pollen coated in their hair. “Shit,” is all you can manage before you push them away and grab for the towel again. You only see a single glimpse of your partner’s face before you jerk into your towel, the urge to sneeze overwhelming you again, and again, leaving you helpless to do anything but ride it out.
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Not Okay - Bragi x Reader
Part of “Smarmy Nonsense” series.
I have a set of plot points that I kind of want to write about in this AU, but for the most part, this is going to be my “I feel like writing Smarmy stuff” series when I don’t have some other Smarmy idea. Also, I may write it out of order depending on how I feel, but it’ll be in order on my Masterlist.
~~~~~
It’s such short notice but I don’t have any other choice. It would’ve been nice if I could’ve postponed my departure until my boyfriend got back but there just isn’t any time. Still, I refuse to go without leaving him something—all I have time for is ‘Be back soon. Love you.’ Within minutes of the request, I’m out the door.
~~~~~
Boy, did I screw up. There’s a reason the emergency request I got had ‘SOS’ scrawled on it. The demon jumping in between realms sucked the rescue team into the Realm of Darkness. So not only were we in far more danger than we were prepared for, but when we finally quashed the monster, we had a difficult time finding our way out. For a while, I thought I wasn’t going to come home.
Moonlight shows me the path ahead; Scala is at peace in its slumber. My leg throbs with each move but home is just around the corner. I’m imagining taking a hot bath and gorging on whatever I’ve got in the kitchen before passing out for the next week.
Stairs make a formidable foe but I inevitably make it to the top. It takes a second of jingling keys before I manage to get the door open. It’s dark inside but far more calming than the hell I just came from. I lean against the door, soaking in the comfort of my home.
My heart stops when the lights suddenly flicker on. Through my burnout, I prepare for a fight but that’s when I recognize the intruder: my boyfriend. A smile crosses my weary lips. “Bragi.”
He’s less happy. “Where the hell have you been?!” The anger is justified—I’d left with only a five-word note—but the watery eyes are a surprise. In realizing the terror I must’ve put him through, my smile slips away. “I come back to a note that just says ‘be back soon!’ It’s been a month!” It certainly didn’t feel that long. “I didn’t know where you were going or what you were doing! I had no idea where to look for you and what the hell is your definition of soon?! You were dead for all I knew!”
There’s nothing else I can say. “Sorry. I-” Shooting pain reminds me that I’m still a mess.
His fury falters and he takes a deep breath. I wouldn’t have blamed him if he walked away from me and let me deal with this on my own. Deserving to be upset with me, Bragi does the usual in subverting my expectations, carrying me away to the kitchen. I get placed in a chair while he stalks into the kitchen. When he returns with the first aid kit, he does not look pleased at the shoddy patch on my leg. “Geeze. What the hell.”
“I got an emergency request…” I mumble, peeling back the fabric. “It was worse than we thought…We ended up in the Realm of Darkness.” Dried blood glued the patch to my skin which stings as I pull it off. This also starts up the bleeding again. “Shit.”
“Gods. Hold it closed,” he orders, weapon jumping to hand. Biting back my hiss, I press the wound closed. “Heal.”
Warmth starts in my wound and spreads out from there, soothing the aches I’ve accumulated. The gash doesn’t heal one-hundred percent but at least it’s not bleeding.
“It’s still gonna need stitches,” murmurs the boy.
“Not good with needles?” I tease.
Unnoticed goes my attempt at lifting the mood. “They don’t bother me at all, but you ain’t gonna like it.”
I let out a little laugh. “Whatever you gotta do, darling.”
And boy, was he right. It’s definitely not as bad as the thing that actually stabbed me but stitches without anything to numb the pain sucks.
“Where’d you learn your first aid, sweetheart?” I grimace, trying to distract myself.
Honey-colored eyes aren’t diverted in the slightest. “It’s part of our keyblade training. They make us learn it for situations just like this—when our magic isn’t enough. I’m surprised you don’t know this stuff. Stop tensing.”
Relaxing takes me a second before I can answer. “Master Mages learn all sorts of healing magic so I guess we don’t really look at standard methods of first aid. Dammit!” Teeth gnash together to hold back the vocal pain and all the urge to tense goes into my fist. “I could mend broken bones if I had enough stamina.”
“That why you couldn’t heal this?”
“Yeah. Everyone was dead on their feet by the time we got out.”
A fresh bandage is pressed over the line of knots. “Done.”
I just melt in my chair, absolutely ready to put this whole thing behind me. So zoned out in my respite, I don’t realize Bragi shuffling around until he calls out.
“Hey. Don’t fall asleep here.” He pulls me up, sporting most of my weight as he leads me to the bathroom where a bath waits. “Make sure you don’t get those stitches wet.”
“Yes sir.”
“Do you need help?”
That drags my gaze to him. Smarmy Fluffcoat may be a bit hot-blooded but he’s always been very aware and respectful of boundaries. Completely unafraid of a make-out session, he’ll kiss until we’re blue in the face and leave plenty of hickies to show off his endeavors, and yet he knows we’re not ready for other things and hasn’t pushed it. So when that question comes from his mouth, it floors me. At least my consolation prize is the rare blush and timid look he’s wearing.
“No, I should be okay. Thanks.”
He brushes off the awkwardness. “Shout if you need me.”
The bath is well enjoyed; however, while I could spend hours in the warm water, my stomach protests. Ambling out of the bathroom, I’m met with the most amazing smell—well, it’s actually just macaroni and cheese, but I would probably devour the macaroni and cheese straight out of the box at this point.
“If that’s not for me, I might have to kill you,” I say to the cook while I flop into the chair at the table.
“Mm, pretty sure I could take you without your magic.”
“Look, I’m not above cannibalism at this point.”
“My point still stands.” Pushed across the table towards me is a bowl of hot pasta. “But you’re lucky this is actually for you.”
I might be drooling, but I don’t know nor do I care. “I think I love you.”
He scoffs. “About time. Hey, slow down!”
Mouth full of pasta, I answer, “Try to take it and you’ll lose a hand.”
“I didn’t say I was going to, but if you don’t slow down, you’re going to choke…Or puke and that I’m not dealing with.”
Scarfing down this entire bowl in seconds would be easy but it’ll be for nothing if it just comes back up, so I force myself to slow down. “Did anything exciting happen while I was gone?”
“Well Urd and Hermod tried to burn your shop down.” Apparently shoving all the food into my mouth wasn’t necessary for choking. “But I got it under control and kicked ‘em to the curb.”
“What were you guys doing in my shop?”
“Business. Clearly you weren’t gonna be doing it so I did.”
Astounded, I eye him. “You were running my business?”
“Like I said, you weren’t and it’s not that hard.” He may not be the best student, but Smarmy is definitely observant; plus he hangs around so often it doesn’t surprise me that he knows the ins-and-outs of my bookshop. “Plus I had to make sure things would still be in tact when you finally decided to come back.”
Guilt churns in my stomach; despite what I did, the terrible situation in which I disappeared, Bragi was willing to pick up the slack. He hadn’t the slightest clue if I would ever come back and he still buckled down to take care of the things I left behind. This boy never ceases to amaze me.
His command pokes through my reflection. “Now finish eating so we can go to bed. I’ll be lucky to wake up in time for class in the morning.”
“Sorry for waking you.”
“Don’t be. I stayed here so I’d know when you got back.”
There’s no denying that Smarmy Fluffcoat can be a pain in the ass—he’s definitely been the reason for a couple spells I’ve invented—but even so, I don’t know if I’ll ever deserve him. From the very beginning, he’s been standing behind me, ensuring the only direction I move is forward. I owe him more than I can express and I love him even more than that.
Whispering slips past my lips, “I love you.”
“Hm?” He arches a brow at me but his skepticism morphs into a smile violently plucking at my heartstrings. “I love you too, you brat.”
Teeth brushed, lights out, and snuggled up under the blankets, I take in his presence: the steady breathing, the heart in his chest, the intoxicating scent, the arms around me. Honestly, being a Master Mage versus a key-bearer-in-training, I could probably destroy Bragi in a fair fight but nothing could make me feel safer than right now. Monstrous and nightmarish are just a few of the words I’d use for the hell I just lost a month to and all the fear I’d been stuffing down is starting to seep through the cracks. Curses roll through my brain when I fail to restrain the first breathy sob.
His arms tighten around me. “Thank gods you’re safe.”
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Dragon
Oops here’s another one from the brilliant mind of @ashestoashesvvi ! Demon brings home something special~ Ayesha is immediately charmed~
The moment Demon saw the dragon egg, he was transfixed. It was shimmering gently as if illuminated by an inner light. It looked like a typical Underworld dragon egg, though, it was much bigger than any egg he had ever seen before. If held, it would fit in the span of his arms, he figured, if barely so.
Ignoring Starchild’s more or less constant stream of questions and random sentences about the outskirts of the Underworld, Demon stepped closer to the egg.
It was half-hidden by a huge mountain of half-rotten carcasses, and if not for the strange pull in his mind, Demon would have surely missed it. He frowned at the thought.
Stopping short, he concentrated on the whisper in his mind that urged him to cradle, help, protect.
He shuddered a bit, half-closing his eyes to concentrate better. Telepathy never was a good sign in the Demon’s own humble opinion. He didn’t get any sign of evil intent from it, though.
In fact, when he thought about it, it wasn’t even a real voice. More like feelings that were projected directly into his head, feelings like confusion and curiosity, accompanied by a strong desire to be found.
“Demon, where did you go?” Starchild’s voice echoed strangely off the uneven stone-walls.
“Over here,” he called back after catching his breath. “Head back to the mouth of the cave. I’ve found something that we need to bring back home.”
“Alright… As long as it’s not something that’s gonna spit poison or bite me.” he heard Starchild grumbling, sounding like he was moving away.
Ignoring his friend, Demon turned back to the glowing egg. He studied it intently, chewing his lip in concentration. He couldn’t leave it here, that much was obvious. The cave was too cold. The nest hadn’t been sat in by a parent dragon in ages. The parents had obviously abandoned the egg or were hunted and killed by his demonic kin.
Sighing, torn between sadness for the egg and a strange sense of happiness over finding it, Demon looked at the pulsating egg that laid before him. A stray thought ran through his mind and he had to quash a hysteric urge to giggle.
Vinneketh was so going to kill him.
XxXxXxXxX
A week later, and a few disagreements and agreements later, a noise came from the egg. Ayesha was reading from a scroll that her Aiutu had brought for her to read when it happened, and, at first, assumed that the noise came from her Baba, as he laid in the other room, trying to sleep. When the noise came again a minute later, Ayesha got up to see why her Baba was causing such a ruckus.
“Baba?” she called out, “What are you doing?” There was no response. Her Baba was dead to the world asleep on his bed. The only response she got was more rustling, which she realized was coming from the corner of the bedroom, where her Baba had put the egg a week earlier. It was in a luxury bed that Uncle Starchild got it, surrounded by a blanket, and had a sunlamp above it, warming it. When she went over to check on it, she noticed a small, thin crack along the side. Ayesha crouched down. The egg twitched and the crack got longer, making the same noise she was hearing.
After a couple of minutes of the egg twitching and getting more and more small cracks, a claw poked through. It was white and shiny, and only about half an inch long. Almost ten seconds later, another poked through. A minute after the first claw poked through, there was a whole foot sticking out. The four claws were identical, and the foot was white and covered in scales. Ayesha leaned over the bed, gasping when she saw a small set of white horns poking through the top of the egg, which lead to a small head.
The creature was nothing like Ayesha had ever seen before. When it turned to look at her, she noticed its eyes. They were a red amber color, and made the dragon look threatening, but Ayesha wasn’t scared. Red amber eyes stared into her own dark eyes and she held her breath.
“Hi,” she said quietly, releasing the air in her lungs. The dragon tilted its head, reminding Ayesha of a dog when it heard an odd noise. She finally sat down, and scooted closer to where the bed was. The dragon moved towards her, like it was trying to climb over to her, but it didn’t make it very far. Its back leg, the first one to poke through the egg shell, was still stuck in the egg. The dragon ended up on its side, struggling to get back up.
Ayesha let out a quiet laugh, “Here, let me help.” She gently grabbed the leg that was stuck with one hand and the shell with the other, and tugged the leg free. As soon as the dragon was free from the egg, it scampered into Ayesha’s lap and curled up. The dragon was about the size of a small dog when it became curled up. Ayesha smiled down at the creature, and went to run her hand along the scales, before pausing.
She didn’t notice before, but the dragon had two limbs growing from what looked like the back of its shoulders. The wings were big enough to cover the dragon’s stomach, and they were shaped sort of like her Baba’s wings. The dragon’s back had two rows of small spikes going from the back of the head to the end of the tail, while it’s small head had a row of spikes leading from its nose to the back of the head.
“You need a name, don’t you?” Ayesha realized. The dragon stared up at her, as if it understood her. “What about… Fadil?” The dragon nudged Ayesha’s hand as if agreeing, which made her grin down at the small creature. “Fadil it is, then.”
“Ayesha, darling, wha– Gods, what is that in your lap?” Vinneketh exclaimed, making Ayesha jump. She hadn’t realized that her Aiutu was home yet.
“It’s a dragon,” was her response. Vinneketh narrowed his eyes, then looked to his snoring husband and sighed.
“Demon! Wake up! The egg hatched!”
“Mmhm….? Mmmh, what…?”
“The dragon hatched, Baba!” Ayesha grinned at him.
“Wait… What?!” Demon launched up and stared at her from the bed. The little dragon opened his mouth and puffed, causing a little bit of smoke to come out. “Oh… I didn’t expect that for another day or two.”
Then before he could do anything else, the dragon moved so fast that he didn’t have time to react before it was on his bed and launched itself at him. The breath was knocked from his lungs as the dragon’s body collided with his, and he was pretty positive that he was about to be bit. Then something wet and slimy touched his face and his eyes widened in surprise.
The dragon’s face was mere inches from his, its eyes wide and tail wagging.
“Did… did you just lick me?” the Demon stuttered out in surprise not quite able to process what was happening.
In response, the dragon made a series of happy sounding trills and licked Demon’s cheek again.
“Oh, ew, dragon spit!” Vinneketh made a face, removing the dragon from his husband’s chest so that he could furiously wipe at his cheek.
“Ew, ew, ew.” Demon wiped his face with the covers of his bedspread, not really caring if it ruined the soft silk at all. That creature just licked him like a dog would. He wasn’t some kind of toy or treat.
“Yay! Baba, Fadil loves you!”
“Ughh… Yes. A bit too much, it seems…” Demon groaned, nose wrinkling at the scent of the dragon’s spit.
“You’re the one who brought a dragon egg home,” Vinneketh muttered, plopping the dragon back in his bed. “Now, you get to feed it and clean up after it, or you get to take him back to the outskirts of the Underworld and introduce him to another nest.”
“This is just like having an Earth dog!” Ayesha giggled, standing up to cling to her Aiutu’s robe.
“One that will threaten to burn my scrolls and robes…” Vinneketh sighed, then glanced down when he heard the dragon’s nails click against the floor. He stopped right before Vinneketh’s feet. The top of his head tilted upwards so he could look at him. Then the dragon did something he did not expect.
Fadil curled himself around his feet, his entire body wrapping himself around his right leg, and purred.
“Well… You’re right, Ayesha. He’s sort of like a dog.” Vinneketh smiled, feeling his fears immediately melted away and be replaced by warm and fuzzy feelings. Ayesha cooed right then and there at the sight.
Hesitantly, Vinneketh bent over and lowered his hand, attempting to pet his head. Fadil met him halfway, pushing the crown of his head into his palm and nuzzling him, the purring growing stronger. The scales didn’t feel like what he imagined it to be, but he was soft, almost like skin. Vinneketh curled his hand behind the one of his horns and the purring became vibrations, the beast clearly enjoying the attention.
“Yay! He likes you, too, Aiutu!”
The beast then unwrapped himself and, with movements so light that he didn’t feel a thing, climbed up Vinneketh’s robe until he reached his shoulders. Fadil made himself comfortable, stretching himself from one shoulder to the other, then snuggled him.
“We’re definitely keeping him, Aiutu.”
“Alright, alright,” It was decided. They were keeping him.
#OMG THIS IS FANTASTIC#Ayesha has a new pet!!#KISSteria guest writings!#tales from Sphynxia#submission
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The Red Dragon - Chapter 12
Gratsu Bingo 2019
Prompt: Trust
AO3 | FF.Net | Tumblr: Chapter 1 | Next: Chapter 13
Gratsubingo 2019
Prompt: Trust
Chapter 12
There was smoke everywhere, making it hard to see or make out any smell outside of sulfur. Natsu noticed a wall of fire to the left which could only belong to Atlas.
He was roaring, trying desperately to get at something just outside of Natsu’s view. There were bursts of spells in the air. Different kinds of magic clashing against each other in a cacophony of sound and light that drowned out every other noise.
Natsu's attention was soon drawn to the ground, where blood was splattered everywhere, making it seem like the earth itself was bleeding out.
He felt a massive surge of magical power and swiftly searched for its source. It seemed to be coming from a man who stood alone on the field, eyes glued to the battle in the sky. Natsu observed him closely, sensing his importance.
The man had long blue hair, his arms riddled with markings of the same color. Natsu could feel the aura of malevolence that surrounded him as he began to laugh in a way that made Natsu's skin crawl.
It was at that moment Natsu saw his father. Igneel looked tired and bruised, there were scars on his body where previously there had been none. He challenged the man on the field with a thunderous roar, but it sounded less confident than Natsu remembered, it lacked Igneel’s usual spirit.
Everything slowed down, and Natsu could only watch with a growing sense of dread as the man transformed into a dragon. A black dragon, covered in the blue markings of the man's skin.
But how could that be? There was someone else like him? Natsu had always been told he was the only one. The black dragon zoomed towards his father, and Natsu could do nothing but observe helplessly.
"IGNEEL! IGNEEL, NO! " Natsu could hear the desperate plea in Atlas' roar, and he forced himself to check on his uncle.
The wall of hellfire had disappeared to reveal the rest of his family. Metalicana, Grandine, Weisslogia, and Skiadrum looked exhausted and barely able to keep themselves in the air. Atlas left them behind as he flew towards his brother, his hellfire blazing around him, Natsu had never seen him act so recklessly, and it only fueled his despair ...
Gray startled awake, his magic already flaring as it fought against the oppressive heat Natsu was exuding. He was thrashing about on the bed, moaning unintelligibly.
"IGNEEL, NO!" Natsu suddenly shrieked in his sleep, tears streaming down his face, "Atlas, please hurry!"
"Natsu?" Gray tried shaking the fire mage, hissing as his fingers were instantly burned.
He covered himself in a layer of frost and continued to try to rouse his friend. "Natsu, wake up!"
Gray had to scamper away as Natsu's body covered itself in flames hotter than any Gray had ever felt before. The bed and all its coverings immediately disintegrated into a small cloud of ash.
Wendy and Sting ran into the room, a groggy looking Gajeel and Rogue lagging behind.
"What's going on?"
"He's having some kind of nightmare!" Gray yelled in alarm, having no idea what to do. He'd never seen Natsu like this, and his desperate screams were tearing at him.
The dragon slayers all tried to get close enough to Natsu to attempt to wake him, but Natsu's infernal flames made it impossible. He continued to thrash and scream out Igneel's name, getting louder and louder as desperation took over.
All the dragon slayers looked spooked, none of them knew what to do either. "Use your bond," Wendy suggested unsurely.
"My bond?" Gray peered at Wendy helplessly, "What?!"
He had no idea what she was talking about.
"You told Gajeel you heard Natsu calling you in your mind," Wendy reminded him, "We all saw you had some sort of conversation with him when Happy brought him back. He was unconscious, Gray. You could still talk to him because the two of you are bonded. Use that bond to break through to him."
Gray shook his head in confusion, Natsu was the one who usually initiated whatever this was. Always had been, since the first time. The few times he'd managed it had all been flukes. He'd thought Natsu was awake when he'd tried, he'd even tried again later and gotten no response.
"Just try, Gray," Wendy pleaded, "Look at him, he's hurting."
Gray closed his eyes and thought as hard as he could, pouring all of his concern into it.
Natsu? Natsu you need to wake up.
Natsu remained silent, but Gray was suddenly bombarded with a slew of feelings he couldn't interpret. There were far too many, and they were all muddled together. Still, he kept trying, desperate to get through to Natsu, not even noticing his own tears.
NATSU!
Gray grunted in frustration, this wasn't getting them anywhere. He was about to turn to Wendy when he felt a sort of pull in his mind, and then he heard Natsu, his voice faint but there.
Gray?
Yeah, it's me. You need to wake up, Natsu.
Our dragons are in trouble! Igneel, he's… he's…
It's not real Natsu, whatever you're seeing, it's not real. It's just a nightmare. You need to wake up.
But he needs me…
Gray put as much command as he was able into his thought.
NATSU DRAGNEEL, WAKE UP NOW!
Gray could feel their connection ebbing away, but he began to see results. Natsu stopped yelling, and the flames that surrounded him wavered until they disappeared. A few minutes later, his eyes blinked opened and he sat up, his breath coming in rapid gasps. Natsu covered his eyes with his arm and dissolved into sobs.
The dragon slayers all stood paralyzed, they'd never seen Natsu cry. Not when they were younger, not when Igneel left. They all looked at each other, not quite knowing what to do.
Gray was the only one to move. Right before everything had gone to hell, Natsu had woken him out of a horrible nightmare. He'd sat behind Gray and held him tightly. Even when Gray had tried to fight him off, Natsu had stubbornly held on, and that had been precisely what Gray had needed.
Gray sat behind Natsu now and pulled him into a tight embrace, ignoring the charred remains of the bed they had been sharing, some of which had gotten into the still healing burns on Natsu's back. Natsu didn't struggle, he just howled louder. Gray tried to comfort Natsu, he shushed him and made soothing noises, but mostly he just let him cry.
He lost track of the other people in the room as he focused solely on Natsu. What Gray had felt when they were connected, it was a pain so raw it had overwhelmed him. He might not have understood all the layers, but he didn't have to. It quashed all of his earlier anger and made him realize for the first time that Natsu was barely holding it together. He'd been putting on a show for them for months, maybe even longer.
When Natsu finally stopped crying, Gray let go of him, taking a better look at Natsu's back. He winced and looked for Wendy, who was sitting in a corner. All the other dragon slayers had left the room. Wendy looked shaken by Natsu's outburst, but she came over.
"We need to get him cleaned up before I can heal him," Wendy explained, reaching out to Natsu and gently shaking his shoulder, "Natsu, can you go in the bath?"
Natsu nodded but made no effort to move, so Gray stood up and pulled Natsu along with him, following Wendy through the maze-like cave until they reached a hot spring. She left them alone and waited outside.
"You guys have your own hot spring?" Gray looked around him in amazement.
Natsu nodded listlessly. Gray found some bathing supplies and gently urged Natsu into the water.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Gray asked softly.
Natsu shook his head, looking almost like a child as the tears once again welled in his eyes. Gray grabbed a washcloth and used it to wash Natsu's back, making sure to get all the char out of his wounds in as gentle a manner as possible. Natsu gave no indication he even felt it.
"It's okay, we don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Gray assured him, "You gave us quite a scare, though."
"I'm sorry," Natsu bowed his head, refusing to meet Gray's eyes.
"Don't worry about it. Do you mind if I join you?" Gray waited for Natsu to respond in the affirmative before wading in to remove all the dirt from his own skin. The water was much warmer than he liked so he quickly got out and Natsu followed behind him.
Wendy led them back to Natsu's room, observing the lack of response with concern. She let Natsu enter by himself, giving him privacy to get dressed.
Wendy handed Gray a change of clothes that he recognized with dismay as belonging to Sting. He put them on without comment, knowing they'd be off soon enough anyway.
"Did he say anything to you?" Wendy asked once he was dressed.
"Just that he was sorry for worrying us."
Wendy and Gray shared a concerned glance before entering the room. They were greeted by the sight of Natsu, dressed in pajama pants, cuddling up to Happy. The wyrmling had wrapped his wings around Natsu and was making purring noises that seemed to relax the dragon slayer.
Happy tensed the moment he saw Gray, fixing his eyes on the ice mage, and seeming ready to fly away. Gray managed to fight off his initial instincts, his concern for Natsu overriding his hatred for the moment.
He put his hands up in front of his body and slowly backed out of the room, understanding that Happy was doing a better job of comforting Natsu than he'd been able to.
It made sense, the dream seemed to have something to do with their dragons, and Happy was the closest Natsu had to his two missing red dragons.
In a way, Gray was relieved. It gave him time to think about how he wanted to handle the situation. There were so many answers he wanted from Natsu, but not at the price of spooking him. Natsu was stressed enough as it was.
Gray made his way to the entrance of the cave, enjoying some cold air for the first time in hours. The more Gray thought about it, the more he thought Erza was probably right in her assumptions.
Natsu was actively searching for any hostile dragons close enough to be a threat to the village, taking care of them before they had a chance to cause any damage. It was the only thing that made any sense to Gray, and it terrified him.
He'd watched as a dragon had destroyed his entire village in mere minutes. He realized Natsu had a particular type of magic that let him fight dragons, but he also remembered how big Deliora had been and he just couldn't believe that Natsu could defeat something like that on his own, even with his magic. He didn't want to lose another person he loved to those beasts.
Gray knew he could continue to pressure Natsu, demand answers the dragon slayer was not willing to give, but all it would really accomplish would be to create a wedge between them. One from which they might never recover.
As much as he hated it, Gray had to accept that Natsu needed to put his life in danger to protect the town until the war was over, or their dragons returned.
Nothing Gray felt for Natsu would change that. Nor should it, Gray was being selfish, and he knew it. There were bigger things at stake here than his feelings. The attack already proved that what Natsu was doing was important. It had undoubtedly saved countless lives.
He groaned in defeat. There really was only one choice, he had to put his trust in Natsu and support him. Anything else would just push him away, and that possibility was not one Gray was ready for.
Wendy came looking for him. "I was able to heal him completely this time, his burns are finally gone."
She gazed at him proudly, "What you did back there, I know that was hard for you, but it was what he needed. He's doing better now, you can go see him if you want."
"Wendy, that bond, what does it mean?"
"I think that's a question you should ask Natsu, the two of you have a lot to discuss." Wendy patted him on the shoulder before leading him back to Natsu's room. Wendy bid Natsu good night, taking Happy with her, and leaving a very nervous looking Natsu alone with Gray.
Natsu took one look at Gray's outfit and started to snicker.
"Oh, shut up. It's not like I picked it." Gray grumbled in annoyance.
"Can you please take off that crop top at least? I can't take you seriously when you look like that." Natsu tried to contain his laughter but failed miserably.
Gray had to admit he would gladly wear the outfit for a week if it could get Natsu to laugh like that. It had been too long since Gray had heard it.
"I suppose you weren't expecting any of this when you stayed over, huh?" Natsu chuckled nervously.
"A lot of things have happened that I wasn't expecting," Gray agreed, "But that's not important now. Are you feeling better?"
"Yeah, it was just a very vivid dream..." Natsu ran his fingers through his hair, "Thanks for leading me out of it."
"How did I do that, Natsu?" Gray looked into Natsu's eyes, expecting to see them closed off, but they had never seemed more earnest. "What is this bond that Wendy was talking about?"
"I was going to tell you eventually, it's just always so complicated between us, " Natsu sighed, unsure of how much to explain.
"We've had a connection to each other, a soulbond, since we first met in the woods all those years ago. It's how I was able to send you that message, and how you were able to reach out to me," Natsu smiled timidly at Gray, "It's also how I knew you would turn up here someday and despite how badly I screwed up on that first day, I really am glad you're here."
"I'm so sorry for all the trouble I caused you today," Natsu said honestly, "I never should've gotten hurt, I got careless cause I was near home."
"Can you tell me what attacked you?" Gray tried very hard not to make it sound like a demand, "Those were pretty nasty ice burns."
Natsu gazed at Gray for a few minutes, his thoughts a jumble of wants and needs and fears. "I want to tell you, but I know how you're going to react."
"It was a dragon, wasn't it?" Gray felt the fear flood his system to the point that he began to shake as he realized that his worst nightmare had almost become a reality. "Natsu, please tell me the truth, I want you to trust me."
"Don't you think I want to trust you? This dragon thing with you, it's the only thing keeping me from...," Natsu stopped himself as he realized what he'd almost said.
"From what?" Gray did push this time, he was tired of all the hiding. All he wanted was for them to be together. With the ever-present threat of the war reaching Talos, Gray didn't want to waste any more time.
"From telling me how you feel about me? Do you really think I don't already know? Don't you think I feel the same way?"
"Did you know that you call me every time you fall asleep in the field?" Gray caught Natsu's gaze and refused to let go of it, wanting Natsu to see him, to hear what he had to say and for once to take him seriously.
"You call me and then when you wake up, you don't even know why I'm there. How do you think that makes me feel? What should I think when everything you say or do when you're awake pushes me away?"
"I thought that might be happening," Natsu closed his eyes in frustration and to give himself some time to think. This conversation had taken a decidedly different turn from what he'd intended. He counted to five and opened his eyes again only to find Gray's midnight blue eyes still boring into him.
"It's the bond, it knows what I want. I can't seem to keep control over it when I'm asleep."
"What am I supposed to do with that?" Gray demanded angrily, "Why are you trying to control it at all?"
All this time he'd thought Natsu was just not aware of his feelings, to find out that he not only knew about them but was holding them back pissed Gray off.
He was starting to let his anger take over, and that was dangerous, he needed to get himself under control before he said something he'd regret.
"If you want me Natsu, I'm right here. I always have been." Gray softened his tone as much as he could, but he knew he still sounded angry.
"Of course I want you, you jackass. I always have," Natsu yelled, seeming angrier than Gray had ever seen him, "But what the hell am I supposed to do when you hate everything I am?"
"What are you talking about, Natsu?"
"I was raised by dragons, Gray, those same creatures that you would destroy. They're all I know."
"Natsu, I--"
"Don't even bother to deny it, we both know it would be a lie." Natsu's anger had somehow evaporated, leaving a deep sorrow in its wake, "Don't you see how futile this is?" Natsu entreated Gray to understand.
"It's not that easy for me, Natsu. It's not a switch I can just turn off. A dragon destroyed everything I knew and loved. It was brutal and cruel, and I was there. I saw it, and I can never forget it. I still have nightmares about it."
Gray tried his best to explain, and in baring his despair, he spoke the most honest words he'd ever uttered to Natsu or anyone else. "Ever since that day, I've lived in dread of the moment when it will happen again."
"But I'm also starting to see that there are some differences. I hear the dragon slayers talking about their dragons with love and affection. I've seen they can also care for humans like Happy just did for you."
" I'm trying, Natsu," Gray pleaded, "Doesn't that count for anything?"
They stared at each other in silence, trying to figure out where to go from there. Things had been said that could not be forgotten. Truths had been confessed, and feelings had been hurt.
"A renegade dragon slayer coming after Igneel, and Atlas not being able to get to him in time." Natsu shared quietly, shattering the silence.
"What?" Gray had no idea what Natsu was talking about. He would have been annoyed at what he felt was a blatant change of subject if it wasn't for the haunted look in Natsu's eyes. This was important to him.
"That's my biggest fear, it's what my nightmare was about. You told me yours, I thought it only fair you knew mine," Natsu attempted to smile at Gray, but it was too much to ask.
This seemingly endless night had been too much, and Natsu's every last nerve was frayed. He sat down in the place where his bed used to be. He'd have to replace it tomorrow. If Atlas were here, he'd just conjure him a new one while Igneel would make fun of him for incinerating yet another bed. Natsu could almost hear Igneel's deep rumbling laugh echoing in his room, and it hurt so much.
He tried to focus on how annoying it would be to lug a mattress up the mountain and any other number of mundane things, trying to get back to some sense of normalcy, but it didn't work. He could still hear the laughter, but all he felt was vast loneliness, and Natsu was so tired of feeling lonely. Why was he doing this to himself? His love, his one desire was there with him. Gray wanted him, and Natsu was hurting him by denying him, denying them.
His resolve weakened, he was tired of feeling empty, of fighting the inevitable. What was even the point? They were meant to be together, fate had already decreed it.
Gray must have gone to the main room while Natsu sat thinking, for he returned carrying pillows and blankets. He set about making them a nest of sorts as Natsu watched. Gray looked calmer as he organized the space, walking over to Natsu and offering him his hand as soon as he was done.
Natsu let himself be led to bed. He lay down, facing Gray.
"Thank you for trusting me with your fear," Gray reached out with his thumb, caressing Natsu's cheek gently, "I know that wasn't easy for you."
He looked at Gray gratefully. It felt so nice to be loved like this. He wanted nothing more than to love Gray, to share with him everything he was, but he still couldn't do that.
Gray was right, he was trying to get past his prejudice. Maybe someday Gray could even come to accept the fact that Natsu was as much dragon as he was human. Until then, Natsu would just share all his humanity with the man he loved.
Natsu reached out with his own thumb, imitating Gray's movements. He was rewarded with a smile that tore away at any last doubt Natsu might have had. "What you said earlier, it does count. It counts for a lot, Princess."
He removed his thumb from Gray's cheek and placed his hand behind Gray's neck, gently tugging him forward. Natsu searched for the lips he'd wanted to kiss for so long.
He wanted nothing more than to press them against his own. To claim the ice mage as his. Gray met him eagerly, and they finally shared their first kiss. It was awkward as neither of them was quite sure what to do, but Natsu still loved it, and he smiled as he felt a jolt of shared pleasure flood their bond.
"I'm sorry I made you wait so long," Natsu whispered as he shifted to lay on his back, something he hadn't been able to do since the attack. Gray made himself comfortable, laying his head on Natsu's chest, and wrapping his body around the fire mage. Natsu immediately ran his fingers through Gray's hair, enjoying the feel of it on his skin.
No more words were shared that night, neither wanting to ruin the moment. They were both emotionally drained and content to just lay in each other's arms. Tomorrow would come soon enough.
A/N: I just want to point out how incredible it is that I began work on this chapter months ago, with no idea about what the Gratsu Week prompts were and I still somehow managed to write a chapter that fit the prompt for July 20th (Dreams). I mean come on that’s crazy. Alas, it’s an update so I can’t enter it, but Trust is also a big theme in this chapter so I decided to go with that!
I’m hoping this satisfies some of you? I know it’s been a long time coming but holy shit they finally made progress! 😂
#fairy tail#gratsu#gratsubingo2019#ftlgbtales#fairy tail big bang 2018#update#stingue#lyon x erza#dragon slayers#dragons#prompt: trust
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the color of lightning, pt. 4
Darcy/Pietro, rated T
read: part 1, part 2, part 3
Agent Darcy Lewis is called in after the Battle of Sokovia to help identify the bodies of the deceased. Except, it turns out, one of them isn’t quite dead.
it’s also on AO3. comments and kudos make the world go ‘round. ;)
this is a mirror fic to @paranoidwino‘s Life is Unfair (which is amazing and you should read it!). so many thanks to my bb, @ragwitch, for reading this over and cheering me on when i was ready to give up forever.
“Oh my Thor,” Darcy groaned, letting her head fall forward to slam against her desk. “Why is it that superheroes are allergic to paperwork?”
A slight displacement of air had her raising her head; she'd heard it often enough in the last several months to recognize the sound of her favorite speedster zooming to and fro. Sure enough, he was standing in front of her desk, looking down at her in concern. At least she thought that's what it was; a bright yellow sticky note had attached itself to the right side of her face, marring her vision.
Before she could reach up to pry it off her skin, a gentle hand did it for her. His calloused fingertips brushed lightly against her temples, and Darcy’s eyes closed of their own accord. Immediately, she forced them open—way to be totally chill about your crush, Darce—but Pietro wasn't looking at her. The uneasy twinge in her stomach was not disappointment, she told herself.
“Find a way to get the Avengers to do their god damned mission reports,” he read aloud, waving the sticky note in the air in front of her face. “That's a lot of exclamation marks, mila. Is everything alright?”
She could practically feel her blood pressure rising again at the reminder. “No, not really. A crucial part of my job is collating the mission reports from every member of the Avengers. And everyone blows me off, even though they're really important. The reports were the only reason we were able to quash those rumors that Wanda was responsible for leveling an entire school in Mexico City, if you'll recall.”
“I remember, Darce. You did such a good job in salvaging that disaster.” His eyes were warm and grateful as he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. And wait, when had he gotten so close? Damn Sokovians and their lack of personal bubbles. Though Wanda didn't seem to have that problem. Nope, now was not the time to be following that line of thought.
“Thank you.” She smiled and waited for his hand to drop from her hair. It didn't, and they stood there long enough for anticipation to coil in her belly, unbearably tense and heavy. It was all she could do not to drop her eyes to his lips, and she struggled against the urge to raise herself onto her tiptoes and press her mouth to his. But he didn't seem to be having the same problem; his gaze was steady and sure on hers. And she’d be damned if that didn’t act like a bucket of water, immediately dousing the fire kindling in her belly.
With an icy tightness in her chest, she shifted backward. She needed space, to let herself breathe again. His hand finally dropped, but instead of satisfaction at the distance, she just felt bereft. He eyed her curiously, but didn't move other than to draw his hand back to his side. The moment was on the verge of becoming unbearably awkward, and she couldn’t stand the thought of him having to let her down gently. So, she continued her rant. “It’s just—I’m not sure what Coulson was thinking. I don’t think I’m the best fit for this job, if I can’t even get the team to turn in their paperwork.”
She raked a hand over her face in frustration, trying to will away the headache that was blooming at the back of her eyeballs—no, those weren’t tears, it was just dusty in her office, that was all—when suddenly he was crowding into her space again. With gentle hands, he coaxed her hands away from her face. When she still wouldn’t look at him, he used his index finger to tip her chin up.
His worried frown deepened when he saw the moisture in her eyes. “Darcy, I had no idea things were this bad,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “What can I do? Please tell me what I can do.”
“Nothing,” she sniffled. “I’m just having a bad day, that’s all.”
Pietro scoffed, the sound reverberating through her body from where her head was pressed to the crook between his chest and his shoulder. She tried very hard to ignore his well-defined muscles, which flexed every time he stroked tender fingers through her hair. She completely failed, but at least she tried. “That can’t be true. If it’s upset you so much, it can’t be nothing. Please tell me what I can do.”
(read more link here)
Sniffling and lightly butting her head against his chest one last time—and desperately hoping there wasn’t snot leaking out of her nose or something equally disgusting—she pulled away and swiped at her eyes. “Unless you can suddenly convince the rest of your team to turn in their paperwork on time—and completed—like civilized human beings, I don’t think so,” she muttered.
There was nothing to say to that, but he took her hands between his and squeezed. It was a brief touch, just long enough to feel the pressure, but her hands were burned with the heat of his and tingled even after he’d let her go. She ignored the sensation, shaking her head slightly as if to erase the memory of his skin. It wasn’t enough, and she took a step back to clear her head.
Pietro opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “You have more important things to worry about.” His expression darkened and he shook his head, but she ignored it. “Were you just stopping by to rustle my papers, or did you need something?” Her grin was half-hearted at best, but he let it slide.
“I was going to see if you’d like to take a break for lunch, because I know how hard you’ve been working lately.” Jerking his chin at her massive pile of papers, he added, “But I didn’t realize you’d be this busy.”
With a regretful shake of her head—lunches with Pietro were some of her favorite parts of the week, and not because of the food—Darcy pouted and confirmed, “Oh, Piet. I wish I could, but—”
He waved away her apology. “No, mila, do not worry. I can see how much work you have. Another time, yeah?” At her quick nod, he grinned. “Perfect. Try not to work too hard. And I’ll see what I can do about my lazy teammates.” And then he was gone, her hair fluttering in his wake. For a second she thought she felt a slight pressure against the side of her head, but shook it off. She must’ve been imagining it.
Staring down at the mound of work that awaited for her, she groaned. Time to roll up her metaphorical sleeves and get to work. Despite her complaining to Pietro, she wasn’t actually someone who gave up in the face of hard work. And with that determination in mind—a little more boring when it was paperwork at stake, rather than evacuating a small desert town or preventing a world-ending, cataclysmic event, it was true—she turned on some music and picked up a piece of paper. It was going to be a long day.
A couple of hours later, another gust of wind had her looking up from her significantly-reduced stack of papers. But Pietro wasn’t there this time. Instead, there was a sandwich and chips at one end of her desk. A bright orange sticky note was stuck to the top. Don’t forget to fuel that beautiful brain of yours, it read in his hasty scrawl.
She stared at it for a moment too long, wondering how much shit she’d catch from Clint if she kept the sticky note as a keepsake. Deciding she didn’t care, Darcy smoothed the little piece of paper between her fingers and slid it into the drawer of her desk. No one even had to know it was there. Before she could get immersed in her work again, she shot a quick text to Pietro. Thank you.
It buzzed with a reply within seconds. She stifled a snort at the thought that he was using his super speed for something as mundane as a text message. The giant dork.
Anything for you, mila. And yeah, he was a dork, but he was a dork with charm. Somewhat grumpily, she shook her head and tucked her phone away. Out of sight, where she wouldn’t cave and find more reasons to text him. She was gone enough over him as it was, honestly. It didn’t help that he knew exactly what to say in order to make her melt, either. Actually, she hoped he didn’t know, because that would mean he knew about her crush. And that would be incredibly awkward. Wanting to escape her own thoughts, Darcy shut off her brain and dove into her paperwork with a level of enthusiasm that was entirely unnecessary.
The rest of the day passed in a boring blur of signatures and filing and online forms, which to be honest was perfectly fine with Darcy. The more excitement there was for the Avengers, the more work it generally meant for her. Not to mention that she spent hours and sometimes worried for the safety of her friends. So, no. She’d take the boring days anytime.
Still, she was dragging her feet the next morning when she headed for her office. She had a giant coffee in one hand, already in desperate need of caffeine. Her eyes were still a little fuzzy with sleep, which is why she blinked rapidly a couple of times when she reached her door. Because there was Captain America—Steve—waiting outside with a sheepish look on his face. “Hi, Darcy.”
“Hello,” she replied, drawing out the vowels. “Is there something I can do for you, Captain Rogers?”
“Just Steve, please,” he corrected, reaching up to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. The other hand clutched a small set of papers. Her heart skipped a bit. Surely this didn’t mean— “And I’m really sorry I didn’t get these to you on time. I hope you know it doesn’t reflect on my respect for you at all. I’m just not always the best at remembering to do my paperwork.” His cheeks were stained a charming red, and that was the only reason she didn’t call him out on his little fib. That, and she wanted to encourage good behavior.
“That’s alright, Steve. I appreciate you bringing them to me.” She took them from him, then hesitantly added, “If you want, I can send you the electronic versions next time? I just wasn’t sure—” she trailed off, not knowing how to say it gracefully.
“How caught up on modern technology I am?” He chuckled, and it was her turn to blush. “I’m sure I can figure it out, or someone can help me. Thanks, Darcy.” Steve turned to go, then stopped. Half-pivoting back to face her, he said, “You know, you and Pietro make a good team.”
She sputtered, not knowing what to say to that, and he winked at her. Then he was walking away, whistling a cheeky little tune. With the sense that she'd just been trolled by Captain America, Darcy stood frozen in the hallway for a second. Finally, she shrugged and continued into the office, Steve's mission report gripped tightly in her hand. There was no way she was going to lose the damn thing after all this effort.
One Avenger down, she thought as she collapsed into her chair. Well, two, really. Surprisingly, Pietro was the most responsible person on the team when it came to turning in his reports, almost religiously so. And come to think of it, he usually brought Wanda’s with him. Generally speaking, the Sokovian twins did everything they could to make her job as easy as possible, both in the field and at base.
On a hunch, she went digging through her stack of paperwork. And sure enough, there they were: two mission reports from the Maximoffs. Which brought her total to three. And all of a sudden she was a lot better off than she'd been the day before, after a single conversation with a certain speedster. With a slightly-happier slurp of her coffee, Darcy booted up her computer.
Since the team wasn't deployed in the field today, Darcy was stuck with administrative work. Not that she wanted her friends to throw themselves into danger, but mission support was a lot more interesting than cleaning up the bureaucratic messes afterward. She let her mind drift as she waited for all the emails to come pouring in, trying not to think about the implication behind Steve’s words or the way her stomach twisted with anticipation for the next time she got to see Pietro. When she began to think of hypothetical ways to convince him to visit more often, she knew she needed a distraction.
The universe was clearly listening, because the first email in her overflowing inbox had her jaw dropping. She hastily set her coffee aside, attention fully captured by the name of the sender: Tony Stark. Resisting the urge to pinch herself—Tony didn't send emails, just like he refused to accept anything that was handed to him; he made other people do it for him—Darcy clicked on the email. Maybe it was spam, some kind of humorous scammer.
But no. It was an email from Iron Man himself. Abrupt and vague and completely annoying, which meant it was definitely written by Tony.
Here, short stack. I've turned in my report. Can you tell your little boy toy to lay off the pranks and the threats now? I've officially done what he wanted.
She read it twice, and still didn't know what he was talking about. But, sure enough, when she double-clicked on the attachment, there was his report. All filled out and everything (correctly, even!). She'd never known such a thing was possible, not when it came to the man in question. As she stared at his signature, she wondered whether this made her particularly good at her job or completely terrible.
Without even bothering to respond to Tony, she pulled out her phone to text Pietro. What on earth did you do to Tony? He just turned in his report!
There was no immediate text in reply this time; instead, Pietro came to visit in person. The only warning she received was the rustling of her papers, and then Pietro was leaning over her shoulder, examining the email from Tony. “I knew that would work!” he crowed, as if he couldn't hear the pounding of her heart or see the flush in her cheeks. The smell of his cologne filled her nostrils, and all she wanted to do was drag him to bed and curl up around him for days, until his scent permeated everything she owned. Well, among the other things she wanted to do to him—with him—in bed.
Clearing her throat, she asked hoarsely, “What did you do to convince him? What pranks and threats is he talking about? Should I prepare myself for revenge?” She could feel him shift his head to look at her, but didn't dare turn her head.
“Trade secrets, mila.” Was it just her, or was his voice a little husky, too? “All you need to know is that Tony will be turning in his reports on time from now on.” With one hand draped across the back of her chair and the other braced against the desk, his body bracketed hers, creating a cocoon with his body heat. He was warm and tempting, and chills broke out along her neck as his breath ghosted against it with every word he spoke. She was in deep trouble. Such deep trouble.
“You are making my life so much easier, Piet.” Unable to resist the temptation, she leaned into the crook of his elbow a little as she spoke, tilting her head back to make eye contact.
His eyes were warm and earnest. “It's nothing, Darcy. I'd do anything to keep you happy here.”
“Anything?” she teased, already thinking of a number of mundane things she knew he wouldn't want to give up. His crappy Sokovian coffee, for one. His speed, of course. The fancy new Avengers uniforms they’d recently acquired…
But his gaze never changed, never shifted from hers. “Anything.”
There was something in his eyes, deep and still and steady. It was strange to see that in someone who was constantly moving. She was frozen, caught in his gaze, and she got the sense that he was waiting for her. To do what, she wasn’t sure. And whatever it was, he wasn’t saying; she wanted to be annoyed, but instead she was caught in his orbit, hanging there helplessly.
After a silent minute or two, the air shifted. It grew heavy with tension—the kind that sent a rush of desire coursing through her body, shifting in her lungs until her breathing was soft and shallow. They were on the verge of something, some kind of change that had her skin prickling with anticipation.
She stared up at him and licked her her suddenly dry lips, swaying back into the heat of his body. His eyes never dropped from hers, but his hand fell from the back of the chair to curve around her shoulder. The heat of his hand soaked through the light silk of her blouse, and fire crept along in the wake of his thumb as it stroked a semi-circle along the bone of her shoulder. She memorized the curve of its arc—she’d been branded, for all that no one would ever see the mark.
A look of mild irritation swept across his face, only to be immediately replaced by an expression of nervous determination. Pietro opened his mouth to say something, and the atmosphere shimmered with the weight of it, ready to break with his words—only to shatter as the clanging of an alarm sounded throughout the facility. The Avengers were being called to assemble.
Sheer frustration overtook Pietro’s face, tugging the corners of his lips down into a dark frown. ���Jebati!” he spit furiously, looking away. But by the time he’d turned back to her, the frustration was gone from his face. She could still feel it, though, simmering beneath the surface. “I’m sorry, Darcy. I have to go.” His words were gentle, and so were the fingers he brushed across her cheek.
Before he could zip away, she reached up and caught his fingers with hers. “Be safe,” she ordered, letting the two words hang with the weight of all the other things she wouldn’t let herself say.
His fingers squeezed hers, just once, before he pulled away. “I always am. I’ll come back to you in one piece, don’t worry.”
Long after he’d gone, she stood braced against her desk, struggling to breathe. I’ll come back to you, he’d said. And it hadn’t been a come on, either; his face was was perfectly sincere, his gaze open. Despite what she’d thought in the hospital, Darcy had never—not once in the six months they’d been in the Avengers facility—seen him flirt with anyone. No one except her.
She sagged into her chair, feeling like an idiot. In her obsessive dedication to protecting herself from getting hurt, she’d overlooked the obvious. All those times Pietro came over for lunch, or made her job easier, or stroked her hair or touched her hand, he hadn’t been doing it out of gratitude, or from a sense of obligation because she’d saved his life. She’d been so blind. He cared about her as much as she did him, she’d stake her life on it.
I’ll come back to you, he’d said. And that look in his eyes, the way his fingers had lingered against her cheek, his palm on her shoulder. The way he’d blackmailed his teammates just to make her job easier. It all made sense. Clint was going to make so much fun of her for this, she knew. Whether it would be because she’d actually fallen for him or because it had taken her six months to figure out that Pietro felt the same, she didn’t know. She wasn’t looking forward to his gloating, though.
She was still standing there, cataloging every interaction she’d ever had with Pietro and trying to figure out everything she’d missed, when Maria knocked on her office door. “Darcy, I need you up in ops—are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” A little dazed maybe, but she was okay. Shaking her head to clear her fuzzy brain, she mustered a smiled and added, “Sorry. On my way now.”
With one last skeptical look, Maria said, “Alright. As long as you’re sure. The team is en route now, so you’ve got a minute or two. But no longer than that.”
“I’m fine, honest.”
And she was. Luckily, the team was, too. The mission—an extraction of hostages being held in a small country whose government didn’t have the infrastructure to manage it themselves, at least not safely—went off without a hitch. In no time at all, it seemed, they were on their way back to base.
Suddenly, Darcy had to figure out what to do with her revelation. Did she bury it, or wait for a better time, whenever that might be? Why had Pietro waited so long to say something? Had he changed his mind?
The questions—some logical, some less so—whirled through her brain so quickly she was giving herself whiplash. She lost track of time, running a finger around the brim of her coffee cup over and over. Until, suddenly, a small, gentle hand covered hers. She looked up with a gasp.
It was Wanda. Which meant that the team was back. The prospect of seeing Pietro sent a strange mixture of excitement and unadulterated terror coursing through her. His sister stared at her quizzically, like she was trying to put the last pieces of a puzzle together. “Ah, so you’re finally ready,” she finally said, as mysterious as always. Her stare changed, morphing into pure curiosity. “What changed, I wonder?”
“What?” Darcy asked stupidly. She felt like they were putting on a play, except only Wanda knew the lines.
And then the elevator dinged, and she knew she wasn’t ready to face Pietro, not in a group of people who would hear their every word. A group of people who’d clearly known about his feelings longer than she had. All of a sudden, Steve’s teasing, Tony’s jokes, and Clint’s eye rolls all made so much more sense.
“I can’t—not here,” Darcy sputtered, backing away.
Wanda’s smile shifted again. Now it was gentle and understanding. She sometimes had a hard time with larger groups of people, too. “Go,” she said to Darcy. “I will tell him.”
What Wanda was going to tell him wasn’t clear, but Darcy was out of time to ask questions. With a jerky nod, she fled.
There was a knock on her door less than an hour later. It was Pietro; not that she'd expected anyone else. He'd taken the time to change before he'd come over, clearly, because he wasn't wearing his uniform anymore. But his hair was still wet and dripping onto his henley, and her heart skipped a beat at the thought of him rushing straight to her apartment once he'd gotten clean.
He looked down at her with a piercing gaze. She felt like he'd split her open and was staring straight into her soul, until he finally quirked his lips and asked, “Can I come in?”
She smacked the heel of her hand against her forehead and moved out of the way, mumbling, “Oh my god, of course you can.”
They stood in her living room awkwardly for a second before she blurted, “Can I get you anything? Water? Wine? I think I might have some of Nat’s vodka stashed away if you—”
“Darcy,” he said, cutting her off gently and taking her hands in his. “I'm fine. Can we sit down, maybe?”
Nerves had robbed her of words, so she simply nodded. Together they walked to the couch and sat facing each other; his hands never let go of hers, and their fingers rested, entwined, on the cushion between them.
Clearing his throat, Pietro began, “Wanda said that—well, that you might—be ready. To talk about…everything.” His voice trailed off at the end, and there was a faint blush staining the tips of his ears. It was the most adorable thing she'd ever seen.
And then his words caught up to her, and she finally understood what Wanda had meant. “Yes,” she answered, wanting to say more but her throat clogged around the words.
With that single word, Pietro settled. The blush faded, and his self-confidence came back. He sat taller, and his eyes were clear and steady on hers. “I’m in love with you,” he said clearly, simply, like they were the only words in the world that could possibly matter. And maybe it was true, because those five words sent her heart into overdrive. It was pounding so loudly that she could hardly hear herself breathe.
But if he could find the bravery to make his confession, then so could she. “I love you, too. I have for months.” And once the words started, they wouldn't stop. “I'm so sorry…all this time—”
Pietro was suddenly in her space, cupping her face lightly in his callused palms. He held her reverently, and it made the guilt writhing in her gut even stronger. “No,” he whispered, leaning in until he was close enough that his breath ghosted across her lips. “No, no, no. Don't apologize, mila. You weren't ready.”
She nodded, savoring the feel of his fingers on her skin and the way his heat radiated across the inch of space that separated their bodies. It wasn't enough. She wanted him closer. “I wasn't ready,” she agreed, reaching up to cup a hand at the nape of his neck. “But I am now.”
She exerted just enough pressure to keep him close as she closed the distance between them. Her mouth brushed against his lightly, worshipfully. He exhaled against her, shaky and frozen like he was afraid to make the wrong move.
Her hand shifted, reaching up to sift through his hair and tug. Not much, but enough to make him gasp. And then his lips were moving along hers desperately, his tongue sweeping in to tangle with hers. They lost themselves in it, exploring each other with eager hands and mouths, until Darcy felt like she was going to explode.
And then she was in his lap, rocking against him and making them both moan. It was too much, too overwhelming, and she leaned back. Just a little, but enough to slow them down. Pietro got the message immediately. He turned his head to press gentle, close-mouthed kisses along her jaw, waiting for their breathing to even out. “Wow,” he finally said, undisguised wonder dripping from the word as he muttered it against her skin.
“Yeah,” she agreed breathily. “Wow is right.”
“A little too fast?”
“A little,” she confirmed, shifting to press a kiss against his temple. He hummed at the contact, blissful and content.
“That's alright,” he said, sure and easy. His hands traced little designs up and down her back. Motions meant to comfort, not arouse. “We've got plenty of time.”
It was her turn to hum. “Yeah,” she agreed happily. “Yeah, we do.”
@magellan-88, since you asked to be tagged, here’s the last part :)
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A Different Fate - Chapter 20
Summary: Fiona learns that Rumplestiltskin is the Dark One shortly after Cora breaks his heart, and leaves the Dark Realm to find him. Slowly, they build the relationship they should have had - and Fiona grows determined to restore the destiny she cut away from her son. Years later, when Belle makes a deal to become the Dark One’s maid, she never expects to find his mother living with him, or to find Fiona encouraging her growing relationship with Rumplestiltskin.
Read it on AO3 | FFN | tumblr tags
Chapter 20—“Let the World be Done with Me”
Anyone who dared use a locator spell to track Rumplestiltskin down would have been in line for a very quick death. Unless, of course, that person was his mother.
“I don’t want to talk to you!” he snapped, trying desperately to keep his tone dismissive instead of furiously wounded. He didn’t need his mother, not right now. Maybe not ever, not if she kept sticking her nose in where it didn’t belong.
He didn’t need to turn around to know Fiona had crossed her arms and snorted. “That’s because you’re being quite the little idiot.”
“This is your doing!” Rumplestiltskin whirled around before he could stop himself, snarling the words. “Don’t deny that that you’ve been trying to push us towards one another. This has your sparkly little fingerprints all over it!”
“Actually, no.” Fiona’s smile was wry. “Not that I’m above playing matchmaker, mind, but the girl came around to her feelings for you all on her own. Isn’t her saying that what made you run away?”
Rumplestiltskin glared. “I didn’t run. Dark Ones don’t run.” But the coward he’d once been had, and even knowing he had been meant to be the Savior didn’t lessen the crippling guilt. Power or not, I’m still a coward. Always will be.
“If you say so, dear.” Fiona looked around, seeming to notice the hovel they were standing in for the first time. Unlike everyone else of his acquaintance, she didn’t even blink at the humble surroundings, merely taking them in with a glance. “Is that why you came here, then? To remind yourself of what you were?”
Rumplestiltskin wanted to snap at her, but instead his voice came out very small. “Baelfire grew up here.” I was loved here, even if only by him.
The love of his son and his mother was the only love he should ever want or need. He had been a fool to fall in love with Belle, and even more of a fool to think that doing so might be safe. Loving his maid from afar was one thing, but the knowledge that she could love him back—that she’d said as much!—broke him into tiny pieces. Their terrifyingly honest conversation had brought so much into the light that Rumplestiltskin felt blinded. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t.
Focus on Baelfire, on the curse, and on getting to him. Nothing else matters. Yet he could still hear the faintly mocking laughter of his predecessors. They’d stopped demanding he kill Belle a few hours earlier, yet they were all still rather amused at his expense.
“It’s not a betrayal to love someone other than him, you know.” His mother’s voice was surprisingly gentle, particularly for Fiona, who embraced her darker urges as often as he did.
“You know nothing!” He wanted to throttle her, could feel the darkness boiling in him. His rage over denying himself love demanded a target, but Rumplestiltskin would not let it hurt his mother. Not after everything.
“Do you love her?” She put her hand on his arm when he turned away. “Do you, Rumple?”
He snorted bitterly. “Of course I do.”
“Then don’t try to punish yourself by denying yourself love just because you lost your son. Come back to the castle and talk to her. She’s confused and hurt, but you still have a chance. Though not as much of one if you sit here and dither.”
Rumplestiltskin just shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. After a moment, Fiona huffed impatiently and continued:
“Do you think she’s like Cora? That she’ll betray you?”
“Belle is nothing like Cora.” The words were harsh, but Rumplestiltskin knew they were true. Even as Zoso cackled madly, he knew that Belle wasn’t after his power.
No, she wanted him, which was far more terrifying.
“Then come back before it’s too late.” Fiona squeezed his arm again, and Rumplestiltskin just closed his eyes against her soft voice. “Please, Rumple. She makes you happy, and there’s nothing to fear in that.”
He wanted to. Oh, he wanted to.
“I can’t.” Rumplestiltskin swallowed hard. Those were not tears trying to leak out of his eyes. Go take her, coward, Zoso demanded. Say sweet words and she might even let you. Not that you’d ever be brave enough. Opening his eyes did not banish the voices, but it made focusing on his mother easier. “Love…love like that is not made for demons like me.”
“Oh, Rumple. You silly, loving, fool.” Suddenly, Fiona’s hand was on his face, soft and far too gentle, and Rumplestiltskin wanted to pull away. Yet he couldn’t. Not now. “If a monster like me can love and be loved, what makes you think that you cannot? Your heart is full of love, despite the darkness you’ve wrapped it in.”
He wanted to. Burned to. How had Belle become so important to him in the last months? Had it even been a year? He knew that he loved her; lying to himself was useless on that front, as was—apparently—lying to his mother. Except Rumplestiltskin knew where this led. Belle was not Cora; she would not seek his power only to betray him repeatedly. She would love him honestly, if she could, and he would hurt her. Or someone else would. Who did hardly mattered; he was the Dark One, and his enemies were legion. Even if he somehow overrode the voices in his head screaming for him to ravage her and own her, someone else would take Belle to hurt him.
Rumplestiltskin couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t. Not even if it broke his heart.
“I can’t.” With an effort, Rumplestiltskin pulled away. He had to harden his heart right now, had to distance himself from love as best he could. So, he drew on the darkness, wrapping it around himself like a shield, and using its coldness to draw a line between himself and his feelings.
Fiona opened her mouth to argue, but he twitched his fingers and teleported her away before she could speak. She’d howl bloody murder later, but for now, it at least gave him some peace. That left Rumplestiltskin alone in his old hovel, in the home where he had both raised and lost Baelfire, a place where he had known so much joy—and so much pain. He hated this place, but that made the hovel the right place to be.
For once, Fiona got the hint and didn’t return.
“I can help you find someone who will make you happy.”
The stupid green fairy spoke so earnestly that it made Zelena want to puke. As far as she was concerned, the midget’s only redeeming quality was that she had a good choice in the color of her wardrobe, but even then, Zelena wasn’t sure that the idiot wasn’t trying to suck up to her. Why would she want a fairy’s help? Did the oversized fly think that Zelena was so desperate that she’d turn to someone like her? The very idea was laughable.
“Why would I want help from a pathetic little fairy to be happy?” She snorted before she could stop herself; snorting wasn’t terribly regal, but Zelena thought she could do it just this once. “I have everything I could possibly want.”
The diminutive fairy stuck her chin out defiantly, hands on her hips and feet spread like she was ready to go to war. “Except someone who actually loves you.”
“Love is weakness.” A maid who had once served her mother had told Zelena that was Cora’s mantra, and Zelena liked saying it. It made her sound strong. Everyone said that Cora had been strong.
“Don’t be stupid.” Tinker Bell rolled her eyes. “Love is—”
This time Zelena scoffed, which was much more queenly. “Love is a tool men use to keep women subservient to them.”
“And what if I could find you a man who would be subservient to you?” The fairy cocked her head, and then shrugged. “Some men like that kind of thing.”
“Do they?” The question wormed out of Zelena before she could stop it, but despite herself, she was intrigued. James—her faithless prince who had chosen Snow!—had liked strong women, but he hadn’t exactly wanted to kneel at her feet. Zelena wouldn’t mind an equal, someone who respected her and would fight beside her, the idea of a strong man who would let her rule was even more enticing.
“It takes all kinds.” Tink laughed lightly, and Zelena found herself smiling before she quashed the expression.
Queens did not smile at fairies. Not powerful queens, anyway. So, she narrowed her eyes with suspicion.
“Why do you want to help me, anyway? You fairies are a prissy lot, always following that holier-than-thou Blue Fairy.” Zelena knew that. The Blue Fairy had helped Snow more than once, so there was no way that any of her minions would help Zelena. Not that the idea of having a fairy in her corner was in any way unappealing. It might even be useful.
Tink shrugged again. “Blue kicked me out. I tried to help a fellow fairy run away and find love, and she didn’t like that very much.”
“So, you’re not actually a fairy?”
“No, I’m a fairy. Blue couldn’t take my wings because I left before she could.” A bitter smile. “I don’t miss most of them, anyway. But I do like helping people who actually need it. You do.”
Tink’s answer made sense, even if Zelena figured there was a lot she wasn’t telling her. Still, Zelena liked the idea of finding a man who would appreciate her for who she was. She’d cast a line or two in the pirate’s direction, but he hadn’t seemed terribly interested in anything more than a fling, and Zelena really did want more than that. She didn’t like admitting that, even to herself, but it was true. She was lonely—but not so lonely that she’d let any man control her. Not ever. She’d follow her mother’s example and be the one in control, even if it meant taking her potential beau’s heart.
He knew what he needed to do, but Rumplestiltskin didn’t want to do it. He supposed that he’d always been a coward, even emotionally. Back in another life, it had taken him weeks to work up the courage to propose to Milah—something he’d been pitifully proud of himself for, even if he now half-wished he’d never done so. She gave me Bae. She might have hated me, but without her, I’d have never had my precious boy. The other Dark Ones laughed in his mind at that thought, but Rumplestiltskin ignored their contempt for his son. They were glad he’d murdered his wife; he wasn’t. He still felt shame for what he’d done that day, even if a part of him was viciously proud that he’d finally fought back against the woman who had berated him for so long.
She’ll do the same to you, Nimue whispered insidiously. If you let this one in, she’ll turn out to be just like your dear, departed wife. You thought Milah loved you, too. Just like you thought Cora did. How did that work out for you, fool?
Shaking his head wildly, Rumplestiltskin squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shut the voices out. “No,” he whispered. “She won’t.”
That was the worst—and the best—thing about Belle. He knew that she was no Milah, knew that she was no Cora. Belle was nothing like either of them: she was honest, honorable, and she wore her heart on her sleeve. Rumplestiltskin might have needed time to realize she was developing feelings for him, but he knew that her feelings were honest. For now.
The problem was that he knew what kind of situation they were in. Belle might have been young enough to forget, but he wasn’t. He knew that so long as she was in his employ, as long as she was a servant in his castle, nothing between them was real. Rumplestiltskin held incredible power over her; he could make her life miserable with a wave of one hand. And yes, he could do that to almost anyone, but it was different for Belle. As honest as she was, who could blame her for falling for him in self-defense? Any maiden might do the same, what with the limited competition in the Dark Castle. It was the only way of making her life better.
That left him with only one possible path, one way to do right by the woman he loved. Belle was worth more to Rumplestiltskin than his own happiness, and even though he knew how this would end up, that changed nothing. If you love her, the old saying said, let her go. He had never done that before. Rumplestiltskin had always held on too tightly, smothered those he loved until they ran for freedom. But he would not make that mistake this time. This time, he would do what was right.
Even if it killed him.
“Baelfire? What are you doing here?” Tiger Lily greeted them at the mouth of her cave, looking between Bae and Beans in confusion.
Bae had to suck in a deep breath of air before he could stop panting; as near as he could tell, the two hour trek to Tiger Lily’s cave had taken more like all night. Losing Felix had been harder than he’d expected. “Um. I need somewhere to hide Beans.”
“Beans?” Tiger Lily stared at the other boy—who was panting even harder than Bae was, since being chained under a tree wasn’t really good for getting exercise—and blinked. “You’re the Seer Pan has been using.”
“Using.” Beans wheezed, and then snorted breathlessly. “Yeah.”
“Come in, then.��� She shot Bae a hard look. “What have you done?”
He bristled. “Something right, for once.”
“Of course you have. That’s hardly the point.” Tiger Lily sighed as she led them past her fire and deeper into her cave. “Not here on Neverland. Here, right is never easy. Sometimes, it’s even impossible.”
“Pan leaves you alone,” Bae shot back before he could stop himself. He wasn’t here for a lecture. He was here because Tiger Lily was their only hope for hiding, or at least Beans’. Bae was pretty sure that Felix didn’t know who had let Beans out, so as long as he returned to the other Lost Boys fairly soon, Pan might not figure out it was him.
“Only because I leave him alone.”
“But you’ve got magic. I saw.” Bae frowned as Tiger Lily blinked in confusion. But he’d seen her do magic, something white and flashy that had made the Black Fairy happy.
“Oh, no.” She heaved a sigh, sitting down hard on a rock. “You came to me because you think I have the magic to protect you?”
“You don’t. But you will.” Beans’ eyes had gone a little glassy again. “The fallen fairy will find her magic once more.” Then Beans shook his head, squinting up at both Bae and Tiger Lily as they stared at him. “What? Did I prophesy again?”
Tiger Lily cracked a smile. “Just a little.”
“You’re a Seer?” Bae felt stupid for asking, but he hadn’t really thought about it. But Felix had mentioned that, hadn’t he? No wonder why they’d had Beans locked up. Pan collected magical objects; it wasn’t hard to believe he’d collect magical people, too.
“Hard to figure out, but true.” Beans shrugged. “It sucks.”
“Yeah, I can tell.” Bae knew that a Seer had been the one to tell his father that he’d die in the Ogre Wars, that that knowledge had driven Rumplestiltskin to desert so that he wouldn’t leave Bae fatherless, as he’d been. His mother had always scoffed and said that the Seer had told of the future that should have been, but Bae had always been glad that his father had listened.
He’d never imagined a Seer who was younger than him, though.
“I don’t have magic.” Tiger Lily’s voice shattered the sudden stillness. “Pan thinks I’m unimportant, so he ignores me, as long as I stay out of his way.”
“But I saw you.” Bae knew magic when he saw it. His last few months with his father had taught him a lot, and Neverland had taught him even more.
Her smile was sad. “That was the last of someone else’s magic. Mine is gone, and has been ever since the Blue Fairy took my wings.”
The uneasy feeling in the pit of Bae’s stomach was quickly becoming a rock of misery; now what were they supposed to do?
Belle didn’t see Rumplestiltskin again until the next morning. She’d hoped he’d come back so that they could talk, but so far as she could tell, he stayed out of the castle until after breakfast. Then, just as she was silently finishing her own meal in the kitchen, he appeared across from where she sat without warning, making Belle jump.
“Rumplestiltskin.” Belle gulped, jumping to her feet to face him and trying to swallow her surprise. Sitting while he was standing just didn’t feel right, not after their last mess of a conversation. She wanted to face him on equal terms, not look up at him. “I didn’t know you were back.”
“I’m releasing you from our deal.”
A long moment passed before those words sunk in. Belle found herself stuttering. “…what?”
“Leave. Go. You’re not my prisoner anymore.” He shook his head rapidly, and Belle couldn’t help but notice the way Rumplestiltskin wouldn’t meet her gaze.
“I haven’t been your prisoner since you let me out of that dungeon.” He hadn’t really still viewed her that way, had he? Belle thought they had something special, something more than that.
“It doesn’t matter.” Rumplestiltskin finally looked at her, and she could see pain radiating out of his eyes. “You can go. You’re free.”
Blinking, Belle let the words sink in. She was free. Free from the deal she had made, free from staying in the Dark Castle forever. She could go home, go adventuring, or do whatever she wanted. Belle had never expected to be freed, even as she grew closer and closer to Rumplestiltskin and stopped wanting it, so the feeling took her breath away. Her life was her own, probably for the first time since she was born. Her father couldn’t command her, and Rumplestiltskin had let her go.
“What if I don’t want to go?” she asked curiously.
That seemed to jerk him up short. “What? No. You have to. You have to go.”
“Why?” Belle crossed her arms, jutting her chin out at him. “Because I said I could—”
“Don’t say it!” Suddenly, he looked panicked, panicked and desperate all at the same time. “You can’t. You shouldn’t.”
“I think it’s a little late for that, don’t you, Rumple?” Belle could read his body language, could see the way he leaned towards her without meaning to. There was a yearning in Rumplestiltskin’s eyes that warmed her to her very bones, making Belle feel light-headed and giddy. Deciding to take a chance, she reached for his hand, squeezing his fingers gently. “Tell me you have no feelings for me, and I’ll go.”
“I don’t—I don’t—” Rumplestiltskin cut off, squeezing his eyes shut. “I want you to be happy.”
“Well, that’s good.” She smiled her best smile. “Because I want me to be happy, too. And I think that could be with you, if you’re brave enough to try.”
She knew he was afraid; every line of his too-tense body screamed that. So, Belle squeezed his hand again. Rumplestiltskin, however, just shook his head again.
“You can’t,” he whispered raggedly. “I can’t. Everything I lo—everything I touch eventually turns to dust. I am a monster, Belle. And that is why you have to go.”
“But that’s—”
“You deserve your freedom.” Rumplestiltskin’s shrug was bitter and a little twisted. “And if…if you come back, I’ll still be here. But take your freedom first. Remember what it is like to live away from a monster.”
“You think I’ll come back?” Belle’s heart leapt; she hadn’t missed the word he’d cut off earlier. Rumplestiltskin might believe that everything he loved turned to dust, but she could prove him wrong. And if it took leaving to prove that to him, she’d come back again. He loves me. Her heart beat wildly in her chest, hammering out a rhythm that she could barely hear over. Belle felt lightheaded. That’s what he stopped himself from saying.
“Oh, Belle.” His sad smile broke her heart. “I expect I’ll never see you again.”
“Then why tell me to go?”
“Because I’m sorry. For…everything.” Slowly, his free hand came up to touch her cheek, but the contact was so fleeting that Belle almost thought she’d imagined the feeling of his warm fingers against her skin. “Because you deserve better. The castle will provide everything that you need for your journey, or if you desire, I’ll take you straight to your father’s castle.”
“No. I don’t want to go back there.” Still stunned, Belle shook her head. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to leave, but she knew that she didn’t want to go there. She wouldn’t go back to that suffocating world where she was expected to be nothing other than Gaston’s broodmare, to tie herself to a man who thought nothing of torturing an innocent ogre-child. Her father was a little better; he did love her, but he thought nothing of her opinions or her intelligence. But Belle felt like she’d drown if she returned home.
I want adventure, she knew. But wasn’t loving Rumplestiltskin an adventure? It would be, but only if he would let her. And he seemed to think that she couldn’t love him if she left, that leaving would make her feelings fade.
“Tell me what your desire is, and I shall fulfill it.” Rumplestiltskin stepped back as she mulled her options over, offering Belle a courtly bow that made her smile sadly.
She almost told him that she wanted to stay. Almost said that all she wanted was to stay here, with him. Yet part of Belle could see the sense in what Rumplestiltskin said. Trapped here, with no one but Rumplestiltskin and Fiona for company—aside from those who came for deals—could she truly know her own heart? Belle was certain that she could, but she could see the doubt in Rumplestiltskin’s eyes. He feared that she loved him out of self-defense, that she was only looking to better her situation through his good graces.
“What if I want to come back?” The words burst out of her before she could stop herself, and Rumplestiltskin’s eyes went almost comically wide.
Then he seemed to deflate. “Don’t—don’t say that.” He gulped. “But I would never stop you.”
“Good.” Belle took a deep breath, steadying herself. She could tell that he wanted to believe that she loved him as much as he clearly loved her, that her emotions matched those she could see burning in Rumplestiltskin’s eyes. But he was so hesitant, her Rumple. So afraid. Fiona had explained to her how he had been hurt, and Belle promised herself then and there that she would not be the next person to break his heart.
“I…I wish you well.” Rumplestiltskin’s whisper was almost a stutter, and on impulse, Belle stepped forward to kiss him on the cheek.
“Thank you.” She gave him the most encouraging smile that she could, and then forced herself to back away. If she didn’t, she might never leave.
Rumplestiltskin wanted to give her space, wanted to let her decide. And maybe Belle needed that perspective; maybe she needed to be certain that he was what she wanted. So, she would leave—and then she would come back. Forever.
A/N: Stay tuned for Chapter 21—“Curse the Fading of the Light”, in which Belle leaves the Dark Castle, Rumplestiltskin mopes, Snow learns the truth about Charming, Beans surprises Tiger Lily and Baelfire, and Fiona tries to shake sense into her son. While you’re waiting, please do let me know what you think—feedback is food for fanfic writers.
In other news, one of my fabulous readers has created a TVTropes page for this story! You can check it out here.
#rumbelle fic#rumbelle au#a different fate#rumbelle#you knew he was going to let her go#the similarities with ADB end with this chapter#since everything else is BRAND NEW
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