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stylesxreads · 2 years

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Help Wanted - Chapter 5

Masterlist

Anastasia's POV

Much like yesterday, Harry stayed in his office for the majority of the day, only coming out to have lunch with us and to check on the kids every so often. It was 4 now, I just finished putting Daniel down for his second nap, and I was preparing a tiny snack for Penelope to eat.

"Anastasia.. are you going to be staying with us forever?" Penelope asked as she colored on a piece of paper on the dinner table. I glanced at her, she continued to color nonchalantly.

"We'll see at the end of the week honey." I continued to chop up some string cheese and fruits for her to eat.

"Hey girls." Harry walked into the kitchen and headed straight for the fridge, he ran his hands through his hair repeatedly.

"Hi daddy!!" Penelope grinned lovingly at her dad. "Look at my drawing!" Penelope lifted up the paper that she was carefully working on, I placed the plate of snacks in front of her, along with a cup of milk. Harry walked over to where I stood and he inspected the drawing that Pen was holding up, my eyes followed his and stared at the painting.

"It's you, me, Daniel, mommy AND Anastasia!" She grinned. Sure enough, there were 5 figures that could be made out to be us. I looked at Harry, his eyes were sad as he stared at the drawing but he disguised it with a smile. A smile that could fool his kids, but not me.

"It's beautiful, peanut. You are such a great artist!" His voice was cheery, but I could hear the sadness that lied underneath.

"Can we put it on the fridge??" Penelope gave him puppy eyes and he chuckled with a nod.

"Of course." He took the paper from her hand and placed it on the fridge with magnet. "I was thinking we could all go for a walk once I'm done with work?" Harry opened the water bottle he grabbed from the fridge before Pen interrupted him.

"Oh, yeah that would be nice." I agreed, I looked out the window, the sun up and the trees shook slightly from the wind.

"Great, there's a park nearby that we can go to, Daniel should be up around 4:45 and I get off of work at 5, so it'll be perfect." Without another word, or a chance for me to respond, Harry walked out of the kitchen and back to his office I assume.

Penelope munched on her snack and my eyes gazed back to the drawing she did, it's silly but I was glued to it. Not at the fact that she drew me in it but because of how she drew her mother. The drawing itself was very vibrant and colorful, the clothes she drew on all of us were colorful and rainbow, everyone except her mother. She was in all black. A very different contrast from the rest of the drawing.

~~~

"I'll get Penelope dressed in outside clothes, you can change Daniel." Harry picked up Pen and went off to her room.

After getting Daniel into a new diaper and some outside clothes, I put some extra diapers and a change of clothes for both Pen and Danny into a diaper backpack and threw it over my shoulders.

"Alright, Mr.Styles let's go!" I shouted once I tied my laces on my shoes. Daniel squirmed in my arms but I held onto him tightly. "Sorry, bud. Gotta put you in the stroller now." I booped his nose. I walked to the garage where Harry and Penelope were waiting for me. Harry helped buckle Daniel into the stroller and he also took the backpack off my shoulders and tucked it at the bottom of the stroller.

"You remember the rules Pen?" Harry knelt down, Pens hands in his large ones.

"Always stay by your side, or Anastasia. Do not go with strangers, even if they say they're your friend." Penelope recited out loud, Harry nodded with a smile.

"Attagirl." He pinched her cheek. He extended his arm out to the driveway. "After you, m'lady." I nodded and pushed the stroller with Daniel in it. We walked peacefully towards the park, Penelope talking about anything and everything to her attentive father.

Harry and I don't talk much, only business, things with kids, small talk. But it's only been two days so what can I expect.

"You know, Daddy. Trees are really old." Penelope spoke. "Almost as old as you!" She pointed at Harry who gasped and clutched his heart.

"Ouch, Pen. I'm only 29, I'm not old." He pouted down at his daughter who giggled up at him, also causing me to let out a small chuckle.

The park came into view and there were lots of kids and families out at the moment. There was even a couple food trucks parked to the side of an open field. We went to the playground and let Penelope play with the other kids, Harry and I sat on the park bench with Daniel next to us.

"It's so nice out." I sighed happily, breathing in the fresh air and enjoying the cool breeze.

"Yeah, it's nice to get out of the house, my eyes are going crazy staring at a screen all day." He pinched the bridge of his nose under the sunglasses he wore. I nodded in agreement.

"I don't know how you do it, that's why I decided on a career that didn't focus on me staring at a screen the entire day." I laughed. He raised an eyebrow at me curiously. "Oh, right. I'm majoring in early education. So instead of staring at a screen all day, I'll be having me ears talked off by 6 year olds." I shrugged. He laughed next to me.

"You'll definitely get some practice in with Penelope." We sat in silence for a bit, keeping an eye on Penelope. I took Daniel out of the stroller and placed him on my lap, I bounced him on my knee slightly and he instantly started to giggle.

"Dada." Daniel said and pointed at Harry. I smiled, "Yes, baby. That's your dada." I responded, silence once again consuming us.

"I know what you're thinking, Anastasia." Harry spoke softly beside me. My head turned to him quickly, confused. "You've had this look on your face the whole day.. A look of pity." He spoke. I shook my head at his words, I was confused today, but pity was not one of the emotions I felt.

"You're probably wondering what happened to their mum." His voice was low, he spoke slower than normal. "It's easy for me to fool the kids, but I figured you'd be able to catch on." He sighed.

"I know sad eyes when I see them." I spoke honestly, I saw them every time I looked in the mirror. "It was Pen's drawing.. Just made me curious on what happened to her." I said softly.

"There was an accident." He said simply, my eyes widened. Their mom didn't just leave.. she died. "6 months ago." He shrugged. "My life's been a mess ever since. I can't seem to do this whole single dad thing very well. My mum and sister have been helping a lot, but they live back home in the UK so they can only come every so often. That's why I was in desperate need of a nanny." His sunglasses blocked my view of his eyes, but I knew that they were glossed over.

"For what it's worth, your kids are amazing. I'm not just saying that to kiss your butt. I've babysat lots of kids in my lifetime and I know good kids from bad kids, and yours are definitely angels. That doesn't just happen from nowhere, you're doing great as a father, Mr.Styles." I said to him truthfully. "I'm sorry about your wife." I added in at the end. "She was a beautiful women and clearly an amazing mother as well." I nudged him a little. He chuckled and nodded, sniffling up the snot that dared to come out his nose.

"Yeah.. she was. I try to be strong for the kids, but some days are harder than others. I'm sure you noticed me crying in my office earlier." I only nodded at his words, not trusting my voice to speak confidently. My body shivered as the wind picked up a little. Goosebumps rose on my arms and I cursed myself for not bringing a jacket today.

"Here, you're cold." Harry shrugged off the grey zip up jacket he wore and handed it to me, grabbing Daniel from my arms. I blushed but gratefully accepted his jacket.

"Thanks.." I slipped it on and instantly felt warm, inhaling his scent that stuck to his jacket.

"It looks like it might rain.. we should head back home soon." He looked up at the sky, I looked up myself and didn't realize how dark and cloudy the sky got. Must've happened within the last few minutes.

"Penelope! It's time to go!" I shouted, I stood from the park bench and headed towards the busy playground. Penelope whined at my request but grudgingly made her way off of the play set. "Sorry, bug. Looks like it's gonna rain, we gotta get back home so you little love bugs don't get sick. " We walked back to Harry who already had Daniel in the stroller, the top drawn all the way over, just in case it did rain.

We hastily started our walk back to the house, 2 minutes in it started to pour rain.

"Great." I mumbled to myself. Penelope squealed and Harry scooped her up into his arms.

"Come on, let's go, we're almost home." He said loudly over the sound of the rain. We ran back to the house, as careful as I could considering I was pushing a child in a stroller. Once we were back in the garage we shook off our wet shoes. Penelope making remarks of how soaked she was. I looked at the sight of all of us and couldn't help but laugh.

"We look ridiculous." I pointed out. Harry joined my chuckles and drew back the top of the stroller to reveal a completely dry Daniel.

"Well, at least this little one isn't drenched." Harry unbuckled the infant from the stroller and told Penelope to run inside for some towels.

"You probably shouldn't go home today, looks like it's gonna storm for the rest of the evening." Harry looked at his phone, turning the screen to me. I groaned.

"I didn't bring any extra clothes.." I sighed.

"It's fine, you can borrow some of mine, I still have some of Danielle's clothes, you could wear those too." He said. I furrowed my eyebrows. For some reason the thought of wearing his dead wives clothes didn't sit right with me.. "You can just borrow mine." He spoke again, interrupting the thoughts in my brain. I nodded hesititantly.

"I'm gonna make a call to my roommate to let her know I won't be coming home tonight." He nodded his head and I made my way inside and scurried to my room. I quickly called Tina, letting her know that I would be staying the night here due to the storm and only because of the storm, dismissing any dirty thoughts that fluttered in her brain.

I heard a knock on the door and I said my goodbyes to Tina. I opened the door and Harry stood there with a some clothes in his hands, "There are towels in your bathroom as well as shampoo and soap and all that stuff. You can leave your wet clothes on the floor, I'll throw them in the wash for you." I nodded and took the clothes from his hands, thanking him once again for his generosity.

~~~

After my warm shower, I threw on the black shirt and grey sweats Harry gave me. The sweats pooled at my ankle, obviously way too big. I hand washed my underwear and blow dried it so I could wear something. I pulled my hair up in a messy bun and called it a day.

Exiting my room I could smell food being cooked, Harry stood in the kitchen in sweats and a t-shirt, cooking over the stove. The kids were in the living room playing with their toys.

"Need any help?" I asked, leaning against the doorway. Harry turned to look at me and instantly started to laugh. "Hey now. It's not nice to laugh at people." I pointed my finger at him. He raised his hands up in defense.

"I'm sorry, you just look tiny in those clothes." I looked down at the outfit one more time and nodded in agreement. "You can help chop these onions." He said pointing at an onion that he started to cut.

"Smells good.." I hummed as I made my way over to the cutting board.

"My cooking skills are minimal, so I hope you enjoy." He laughed, he played some music softly on a bluetooth speaker. I glanced at the kids every so often, just to be sure they weren't getting into things they shouldn't.

Despite the rain pouring outside and beating softly on the windows, I could hear Harry singing along to the song under his breathe, barely above a whisper but I heard it. Even as soft as he was singing I could tell he had a beautiful voice.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fandom #harries #one direction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles fan account #harry styles dad #harry styles babystitter #harry styles nanny #nanny fanfic #1d

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frustrated-writer-skyeknight · 3 years

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My main Fanfic squad, but as F.r.i.e.n.d.s (so S.q.u.a.d i guess)

Chandler - Hiccup

Monica - Jack

Ross - Jim

Rachel - Dimitri

Joey - Astrid

Phoebe - Jamie

Scene One

Jack: You know I just don't get it. I mean, I didn't plan to quote 'ruin my marriage' unquote shortly after having one. I don't see why I'm the only one getting all the beef when it's Elsa who wanted the divorce to happen so soon.

Jamie: I mean... Mom still doesn't believe you had no idea she was a lesbian.

Jack: No, no. See, the plan was...

Hiccup: There was a plan for this?

Jack: The plan was... After a year, Elsa would file the divorce because 'Jack isn't suitable for marriage life' like I also kept telling our parents. Then, I finally come out to them as gay because 'this experience traumatized me from liking women' instead of saying I've been that way the whole time. Now turns out, she wants a divorce cause she's the gay one.

Hiccup: So you did plan to ruin it anyway?

Jamie: Then, tell mom and dad that.

Jack: I would, but it's Elsa's call and she doesn't really want to come out yet.

Hiccup: So, what are you going to do now?

Jack: Well, for the meantime, I'd be happy not to deal with any talks of my marriage or divorce for now.

Just then, Dimitri walks in during a hot stuffy day, wearing a tuxedo, of all things...

Hiccup: Okay, how about someone else's?

Dimitri: *goes up to the counter* Excuse me, hi. Uh, I'm looking for someone? I'm told they might be here.

Jack: Dimitri?

Dimitri: *turns around* Jack! Thank god. Nevermind, I've found him.

Jack: Why are you dressed that way? Wait, did you commute all the way over here in that?

Dimitri: I don't even have bills that aren't in rubles. I walked.

Jack: On a hot July heat wave? How are you alive?

Dimitri: Man, I don't know. I wish I was dead. I'm not having the best day.

Barista: Can I get you anything?

Jack: Iced tea. Grande size, thanks.

Jack and Dimitri move to the couch and the white haired man started introducing him to his friends...

Jack: Of course, you know Jim.

Dimitri: *elbows Jack roughly*

Jim: *raises a brow*

Jack: ...and you remember my brother, Jamie?

Dimitri: Of course, hey Jamie. Still think my grandpa is the boogeyman?

Jamie: He looks like a skeleton who sold his soul to add flesh over it. Boogeyman is being polite, in his case.

Dimitri snickers in response as he took a spot on the lounge couch while he waited for the iced tea ordered for him...

Jack: So are you actually going to tell us what happened or should I buy you a vowel too?

Dimitri: Okay... So an hour before my wedding, it literally dawned on me I was going to get married to Anastasia Romanov. And it got me thinking... Do I really want to spend the rest of my life as Dimitri Romanov?

Astrid: Huh, nice. Usually, the bride takes the groom's last name. Glad society's evolved enough to let it happen the other way.

Dimitri: *shrugs* Her last name carries more prestige. Which brings me to my next point... The luxurious life is appealing and all but I don't think it's really worth the boredom of putting up with the entitled rich highlanders in the monthly banquets. At least, that's not a life I want.

Hiccup: See, even the only ones who say that are those rich enough to afford saying it.

Astrid: Like you can talk. Your dad's a lawyer. You lived in a big house in the Suburbs in your childhood.

Dimitri: Anyway, long story short, I ran off from my wedding. And I went to where I knew Jack lived, but he wasn't at his flat. So this big guy wilting a piece of wood on the hallway told me I might find him here and you're the only one I know in the city that didn't come to the wedding.

Jack: ... I wasn't invited to the wedding.

Dimitri: What? But mother told me she sent you an invitation.

Jack: And you remember exactly how your folks feel about me, right?

Dimitri: Well, uh, my mother at least seemed convincing that she was making more attempts in being open...

Scene two

Hiccup: Ever notice that the most popular KDramas usually involve love triangles, petty jealousy, and cliché main guy heartthrobs?

Astrid: Maybe the ones you watch? Kingdom isn't like that.

Hiccup: Yeah, but the have the overused zombie infestation plot to make up for it.

Jamie: When will you guys just watch TV shows for their purpose?

Astrid: And what's that?

Jamie: Entertainment.

Hiccup: Well, when it's actually doing its purpose I guess.

Meanwhile, Dimitri was on the phone while Jim went to get a snack from the fridge....

Dimitri: I'm fine, uncle Vlad. And I'll feel much better if I wasn't hearing dad cussing like a sailor in the background. You know what, just put him on and let's get this over with...

Jack pauses his phone streaming Netflix before they all turned to not-so-subtly eavesdrop on Dimitri, even Jim stares at the Russian while nibbling on a muffin...

Dimitri: Yeah, it's m─dad no─Well, if you stop cursing my existence long enough to let me explain─Is mom there? Cause she'd be rubbing soap on your mouth by now!

Jim: Huh, dad troubles. *walks back to the den* Now I see why the Russian ran.

Hiccup: ... In your case, your dad ran though...

Jim: This muffin could be used as a lethal murder weapon, Haddock.

Dimitri: Znayete chto, k chertu eto, ya prosto skazhu eto. I'm gay, and always have been since forever. Even Anya knows!

Jack: Called it.

Hiccup: He was your roommate at college. Of course you called it.

Dimitri: Yeah well, tell mama I love her but screw you pops. It's my life, and I'm gonna live it the way I want...... Well, maybe I don't need your roof to return to. I'll just stay here....... Hey, he may be bottom feeder Jack to you, but he's my friend bottom feeder Jack!

Jack: I guess we established I'm still bottom feeder Jack.

Dimitri: It's my decision now, dad....... Well, maybe I don't want to keep my inherita─ No, no! I said maybe! *face falls and places the phone back on the counter and slumps on a dining room chair* Well, now I'm cut off. Shostakovitch... I don't know if the heatwave is just hitting now, or if I'm having a panic attack...

Jack snaps his fingers and went through the kitchen drawers to take out a paper bag and handed it over to Dimitri, telling him to breathe in and out of it...

Jack: Okay, just take calming breaths buddy. Calm, calm...

Dimitri: *breathing quickly, narrowing his eyes at Jack*

Jack: C'mon, don't look at me like that. Just... You know, think of less stressful thoughts. Think happy thoughts.

Dimitri: *inhales* I am *exhales* drawing a blank... Little help?

Jamie: 🎶Think of a wonderful thought. Any merry little thought... Think of Christmas, think of snow. Think of sleigh bells off you go!🎶

Dimitri: *throws off paper bag* Not like that.

Astrid: *shrugs* Made me happy.

Scene three

Dimitri: So, uh, listen James....

Jim: Dude, Jim is fine.

Dimitri: Right... So, I don't know if you knew this. But back in High school, I had a secret crush on you.

Jim: Oh, I heard of it. Didn't really think it was true, though.

Dimitri: Really? Why not?

Jim: Seriously? With practically everyone and their literal mothers going on about how you were gonna marry Romanov after college? Case in point, what you almost did hours ago. I thought they were just messing with me.

Dimitri: You did? Uh, so... I was wondering... Maybe I could take you out some time? Like... On a date? I mean, after the whole... Runaway groom thing dies down?

Jim: Well, we'll see.

Znayete chto, k chertu eto, ya prosto skazhu eto. - You know what to hell with this I'm just gonna say it.

Used google translate

#Hiccup Haddock #Jack Frost #Dimitri Sudayev #Jim Hawkins #Jamie Bennett #Astrid Hofferson

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swanqueeneverafter · 4 years

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Sins of the Past Pt.26

Wonderland. Lizard's Home. (While the streets are filled with people celebrating the Caterpillar’s arrest, Lizard stands staring out of her window wistfully as Will enters.) Lizard: “Are you enjoying yourself?” Will: (Staggers:) “It might be the best night of my life. They’ve arrested the Caterpillar and his goons. I’m a free man.” Lizard: (Smiles:) “I heard.” Will: (Closing the door:) “Which begs the question what are you doing in here all by yourself? (Lizard says nothing:) Oh, I get it. I think I understand what's going on here. (Walks over to her and speaks in her ear:) You fancy someone. I knew it! All right. Out with it. Name the lucky bloke out there who caught your eye.” Lizard: “I'll never tell.” (Lizard gets up and walks to the other side of the room.) Will: “Hang on, I’m Mr. Fix It. I know a thing or two about helping women in love get what they want.” Lizard: (Scoffs:) “You can't make anyone fall in love with me.” Will: “Well no, but I can help in other ways, make him notice you. I mean really notice you.” Lizard: “Well, you tell me, then. (Pokes him in the chest playfully:) What makes you notice a girl?” Will: “Me? Let me think...confidence. Confidence is a terribly sexy quality in a woman.” Lizard: “All right. What else?” (She circles him.) Will: “Passion. Spontaneity. Willing to take chances, explore new places, and style. She should really know how to wear a dress. And a naughty streak don't hurt. But it all comes down to this; when I see her, it feels like fireworks are going off.” Lizard: “Fireworks?” Will: “Fireworks. Because without that, there's nothing.” Lizard: “All right, then. I want that. I want all of that.” (Lizard reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small red diamond.) Will: “What’s that?” Lizard: (Holding up the diamond:) “This is my wish. The Oracle gave this to me as payment for bringing Ella to her.” Will: “She what?” Lizard: “And now I’m going to use it to make my dreams come true.” Will: “Lizard, wait! (Lizard closes her eyes and squeezes her hand tightly around the wish. Disappearing and then reappearing in a cloud of smoke, Lizard stands before Will wearing a beautiful white dress. Impressed:) All right, then. Let's go out there and show these lads the girl they've been missing.” Lizard: “I'd rather stay in here.” Will: “Oh, come on! What are you so afraid of?” Lizard: (Walks closer to him:) “I'm afraid that the man I like doesn't feel about me the way I feel about him.” Will: “Have you seen yourself? He'd be a complete and utter idiot, and blind to boot. If you don't want to go out there, I'll bring him back here for you.” Lizard: (Will moves to the door:) “No. Wait.” Will: “Tell me who he is, then.” Lizard: “It's you, Will. It's always been you.”

(Will stares at her then drops his head. Lizard walks over to her bed and takes a seat.) Will: “I guess I was right. The bloke you fancy is a complete and utter idiot. Lizard, I'm sorry.” Lizard: “No. It's all right. I'm fine, really.” Will: “Look, you know I like you. I always have. You're a terrific mate, and we've always had the best times together. It's just -” Lizard: “You don't love me.” Will: “It's not just that- (Will stares at Lizard as she suddenly struggles to breathe:) What's happening?” Lizard: (Gasping for air:) “It’s...it’s the wish!” Will: (Catching her as she falls:) “Take it back!” Lizard: “Will!” Will: “No! No! No! No! No! No! Please, no! Liz! Liz! No!” Lizard: (Lying in his arms:) “I just wanted you to feel something for me.” Will: “I'm sorry. I'm sorry. (Lizard dies:) Liz! No! I'm sorry.” (Will rocks her in his arms while fireworks illuminate the sky outside the window.)

Storybrooke. Rollin' Bayou. Opposite The Dragon’s Lair. (A montage of Tiana cooking inside the food truck. Cracking eggs into a bowl then whisking, adding flour and then kneading the dough. Using a pastry wheel to cut the shapes and then deep frying. Topping with sugar and then placing in paper bags to order, Tiana smiles and wipes her brow.) Ella: “Where is everyone coming from?” Tiana: “Location, Location, Location. Mom always said nothin' attracts a crowd like a crowd.” Ella: “Amazing! You're really doing it.” Tiana: “Mm-hmm.” Ella: “You know we could set up a stand at the Sunday farmers' market.” Tiana: “Oh, meh. Farmers' markets are for Old MacDonald. No. I'm thinking jazz, luring people in to a popcorn-light-lit food truck. We park it at festivals and movie nights.” Ella: “Okay.” Tiana: “And then serve étouffée and boudin.” Ella: (Holds up a bag of beignets:) “Buckets of these guys.” Tiana: “Yes. (Both laugh:) Oh, it finally feels like we are headed in the right direction.” Ella: “You're a dreamer, and I love you for it, and god knows I need a job.” Tiana: “Uh huh and that is exactly the reason why you need to take this risk. We’ll get you a truck of your own that’ll be your responsibility. It's time to change the game and take a big swing for once. You owe it to yourself. You owe it to your Mama, wherever she may be. Come on. Let's make her proud.” Ella: (Falters then after a moment, smiles:) “Okay. I'm with you.” Tiana: “Yeah? All right. (Laughs:) Great. And with a little bit of sugar and spice and everything nice, we are going to show everyone who is boss.” (While Tiana deals with the customers, Ella takes a step back, the words ‘make her proud’ echoing in her ears. With her career path seemingly laid out in front of her, Ella is more determined than ever to confront Regina once and for all.) The Dragon's Lair. (Lily enters the bar. Noting that the tables and chairs have been rearranged and a stage has been erected, Lily makes her way over to the bar and takes a seat.) Zelena: "Lily, we didn't expect to see you tonight." Lily: "And miss Regina on stage? Not likely." Zelena: "I'm surprised Elsa let you out." Lily: (Smiles:) "I’m surprised my Mom agreed to you adding a stage to the bar in addition to the restaurant.” Zelena: (Zelena winks:) “Bet you’re not surprised Regina agreed to be the very first act on the new stage though.” Lily: “Well, as far as Elsa goes, she's not a big drinker and she figured with Emma and Regina around, this is the safest place I could be." Zelena: "She has a point. Although you can obviously take care of yourself." Lily: "That's what I told her. Anyway, I think those two are only gonna have eyes for each other tonight." (Maleficent stands on stage and manages to quieten the rowdy crowd with a glare.) Maleficent: "Ladies and Gentlemen, and I use that term loosely, the Dragon's Lair is proud to present Storybrooke's hottest Mayor, Regina Swan-Mills!" (Maleficent leaves the stage as Regina rises from beneath and the lights dim. With the spotlight shining upon her, Regina begins.) Regina: ♪ Come on, babe, why don't we paint the town. ♪ ♪ And all that jazz?♪ ♪ I'm gonna rouge my knees and roll my stockings down ♪ ♪ And all that jazz ♪ ♪ Start the car, I know a whoopee spot ♪ ♪ Where the gin is cold, but the piano's hot ♪ ♪ It's just a noisy hall where there's a nightly brawl ♪ ♪ And all ♪ ♪ That ♪ ♪ Jazz ♪ (As promised, Emma watches from the crowd front row, center. The Sheriff is unable to take her eyes away from her wife while she sings and gyrates on stage. With a huge smile, Emma makes eye contact with Regina as she continues her song.) ♪ Slick your hair and wear your buckle shoes ♪ ♪ And all that jazz ♪ ♪ I hear that Father Dipis gonna blow the blues ♪ ♪ And all that jazz ♪ ♪ Hold on, hon, we're gonna bunny hug ♪ ♪ I bought some aspirin down at United Drug ♪ ♪ In case you shake apart and want a brand-new start ♪ ♪ To do ♪ ♪ That ♪ ♪ Jazz! ♪

Idirsholas. (Lancelot’s party rides for the fortress and enters the ruins. The knights spread out, their weapons drawn.) Lancelot: "What’s that noise?" Xena: "What noise?" Lancelot: "A sort of trembling sound." Xena: "That’s your knees knocking together." (Xena and Gabrielle move ahead while Lancelot rolls his eyes. They enter the chamber in the fortress where the knights were awoken. Lancelot checks the ashes of the fire.) Lancelot: “It seems part of Joseph’s story was true. Probably just travellers passing through.” (Gabrielle turns her head back toward the entrance.) Gabrielle: “Or maybe not.” (Everyone turns as the Knights of Idirsholas draw their swords. Xena, Gabrielle, Lancelot and the others fight the knights. Xena runs one through, but it doesn’t fall. Fight, stab, repeat. Lancelot loses his sword in an undead knight’s gut.) Sir Leon: “Lancelot!” (Leon throws Lancelot a sword.) Xena: (Slashes at two knights with little effect:) “This isn’t working!” Gabrielle: “We need to go! (Lancelot and his men retreat. Gabrielle follows but stops when she sees Xena standing there:) What are you…?!” (Xena throws her chakram, causing the roof to cave in as it bounces off the walls. Catching the chakram, Gabrielle pulls Xena backwards out of the room while the entrance way crumbles.)

Kingdom of Valencia. Dining Room. (Richard, Roberta, Henry and a very embarrassed Gareth have dinner together.) Gareth: (Clears his throat:) “I’d like to thank you for exposing this attack on our state. Once again, magic was used to strike at the heart of Valencia.” Roberta: (Tad Cooper resting on her arm:) “You mean, your heart.” Richard: “How many nights did you share a bed with a troll?” Gareth: “Obviously I was under its spell. (Richard sniggers:) I did many things that I…regret.” Henry: “Gareth, that’s okay, I’m sure we really don’t want to know the details.” (There is quiet for a moment before everyone laughs, Richard pulling faces to mimic Gareth’s moment of clarity. Eventually, despite himself, Gareth finds the funny side of things and joins in with the laughter.) Wonderland. Town. (Walking through the now deserted streets, Anastasia arrives at Lizard's home and enters through the open door. Seeing the girl's body on the floor, Anastasia rushes over to check her pulse. Feeling nothing, she closes Lizard's eyes and leans back on her haunches.) Will: "It's my fault. (Startled, Anastasia turns to look at Will who sits in the shadows:) She wished that I could love her and when I couldn't, she..." Anastasia: "Will, what are you talking about? People don't just keel over and die from rejection." Will: "It was her dying wish." Anastasia: (Moving over to him:) "Will, snap out of it. You're not making any sense."

Will: (Sighs:) "Lizard used a wish she got from an Oracle." (Will holds up the small diamond between his thumb and forefinger. Taking it, Anastasia inspects it closely.) Anastasia: "Before Lizard used this, did it glow red?" Will: "Yeah." Anastasia: (Nods:) "It was cursed. It didn't matter what wish Lizard made, as soon as she used the diamond, she was done for." Will: "Why would the Oracle do that to her?" Anastasia: "My guess? To cover their tracks. The Oracle must not have wanted Lizard to identify them for some reason." Will: "Aye, and I think I know why. Ella went to see this Oracle and they told her that someone killed her mother." Anastasia: "Who?" Will: (Shakes his head:) "She wouldn't say. We got separated soon afterwards. I think Ella's going to do something stupid and there's no way I can stop her." Anastasia: "All right, well first thing's first. We need to see what Ella saw. (Anastasia walks over to Lizard's body and kneels beside it:) There's a spell I can use that can show us everything Lizard saw during her last few hours. If we get lucky, maybe we can see who this supposed Oracle was." Storybrooke. Forest. (With Mordred still believed to be hiding within Storybrooke's borders, Ruby and Mulan prepare for a long night’s shift sitting by their campfire.) Mulan: "Do you ever wonder what your life would've been like if you had a normal childhood?" Ruby: (Considers:) "There probably would've been a lot less running involved. (At Mulan’s look:) My entire village ran me out of town.” Mulan: “Really?” Ruby: “With torches and pitchforks.” Mulan: “Because you're a wolf?” Ruby: “I didn't always know I was, and I certainly didn't back then. I wasn't in control. And one night, I accidentally...” Mulan: “Killed your boyfriend, I know.” Ruby: “Yeah. I lived on the run after that, and... I eventually learned to control my power, made some friends along the way. I ended up in Storybrooke, but I still felt like there was something missing.” Mulan: (Smiles:) “You’re such a Gabrielle.” Ruby: (Scoffs:) “Well not everyone gets to take our father’s place and fight in the Chinese army as a teenager. (Laughs but notices Mulan doesn’t join in:) Mulan, what's wrong?” Mulan: “I didn’t replace my father. My father left us when I was still a young girl.” Ruby: “I’m sorry, I just assumed from the movie... Why haven’t you told me this before?” Mulan: “It’s ancient history. Everything else from the movie is true though. Except for Mushu, I’m not sure what that was about.” Ruby: “Oh you know how they are, every movie has to have a plucky comedic sidekick.” Mulan: “Perhaps they’ll remake it one day. Replace the dragon with a smart, sexy wolf.” Ruby: (Laughs:) “Can wolves be sexy?” Mulan: “Oh please, like you don’t know.” Ruby: “You’re weird.” Mulan: “Maybe, or just hopelessly in love.” Ruby: “Hm, could be.” Mulan: “Definitely. (They kiss:) I’m so glad we found each other.” Ruby: (Kisses her again:) “Me too.” Mulan: “And I’m so happy you didn’t make the same mistake I did and told me how you felt before it was too late.” Ruby: (Smiles:) “Well thanks to a certain TV show, I know how tortured some warriors can be about their past and how it can stand in the way of their happiness.” Mulan: “Thank god for those plucky sidekicks huh?” Ruby: “We have our moments.” Mulan: “Yes, you certainly do.” Ruby: “Feel like having one of those moments right now?” Mulan: (Chuckles:) “We’re on duty.” Ruby: “Yeah, and we’re going to be all night long. I don’t think that campfire’s going to be able to keep us warm throughout, do you?” Mulan: “So you’re saying we might need to generate some extra heat ourselves huh?” Ruby: “Couldn’t hurt.” (Leans over and kisses Mulan’s neck.) Mulan: “You know you’re a terrible influence.” Ruby: (Removing her cloak:) “Uh huh. Do you need help with your armour?” Mulan: (Already pulling off her boots:) “No, I’ve got it.”

The Dragon's Lair. (David finally enters and makes his way over to the bar while Regina is reaching the crescendo of her performance.) Regina: ♪ Big wheel keep on turning ♪ ♪ Proud Mary keep on burning ♪ ♪ And we're rolling, rolling ♪ ♪ Rolling on the river ♪ ♪ And we're rolling, rolling ♪ ♪ Rolling on the river ♪ (Picking up his drink from the bar, David turns and sees his wife making a fool of herself, arguing drunkenly with three men.) Snow White: "I'll have you know that is my daughter-in-law up there, buddy! (Staggers:) You see she used to be my step-mother and then there was this curse and-" David: (Stepping in:) "All right, Snow, I think everyone knows about your history with Regina. I'm sure these gentlemen don't need to-" Maleficent: "Will you idiots shut the hell up? Regina's just about to go into her big finish!" Snow White: "Don't you tell me to shut up, blondie!" Maleficent: "Excuse me?" Snow White: "That's right, I'm talking to you, (Makes horns with her fingers:) Dragon lady." David: "Oh boy..." Snow White: "Don't think I don't know that you've still got feelings for Regina. (Hiccups:) We all see it." David: "I am so sorry." Snow White: "No! I knew we made the right decision telling Emma and Regina to hold off rescuing you. They're married! Married! You get that? You missed your chance." Maleficent: (To David:) "You told them not to come for us?" David: "That's not exactly-" (At that moment, one of the drunken men Snow was arguing with bumps David's arm, causing him to spill his drink over Maleficent.) Drunk Man: "Hey, cat fight!" (Disgusted, Maleficent pushes David backwards into the man which causes a fight to break out. While just about still able to stand, Snow lunges at Maleficent. Watching this all transpire from her bar stool, Lily turns to Zelena.) Lily: "And this is why we can't have nice things." (Downing her shot, Lily rushes over to break up the melee while Regina reaches the climax of her performance.) Regina: ♪ Big wheel keep on turning ♪ ♪ Proud Mary keep on burning ♪ ♪ And we're rolling and we're rolling ♪ ♪ And we're rolling on the river ♪ ♪ Yeah ♪ ♪ All right, now ♪ ♪ Yeah, rolling, rolling on the river ♪ ♪ Said they're rolling, oh, rolling, yeah, rolling on the river ♪ ♪ I tell you they're rolling, a-rolling, a-rolling on the river ♪ ♪ Yeah! ♪ (The crowd explodes in cheers and applause, Emma standing on her chair, arms raised high in the air, as proud as can be.)

Wonderland. Lizard's Home. (Will watches on with revulsion as Anastasia holds Lizard's severed eyes in her hand.) Will: "Eugh, if I knew you were going to do that, I would have said forget it." Anastasia: "It's the only way to capture Lizard's parting glances, Will. Do you think I enjoy cutting people's eyes out of their sockets?" Will: "All right, all right. But we're giving her a proper burial after this." Anastasia: "Agreed." Will: "So how does this work?" (Anastasia walks over to the kitchen and retrieves a bowl from the shelf. Placing the eyes inside, she walks back and puts the bowl on the table.) Anastasia: (Waving her hand over the bowl:) "De visu intueri. Visione revelare." (A blue cloud of images forms above the bowl. Quickly scanning them, Anastasia stops at a familiar face within the visions.) Will: "There! That's Ella. But who's she talking with?" Anastasia: "That's... That's my step-mother, Cecelia." Will: "What?" Anastasia: "Will, whatever that vision of Cecelia said to Ella is a lie. There's only one person responsible for Cecelia's death and she's long dead." Will: "What are you talking about?" Anastasia: "Come on, I'll explain on the way. We've got to stop Ella from doing something she'll regret." Will: “Wait, what about Lizard?” (Anastasia grabs him by the arm and pulls Will out of the house. Closing the door, she performs a sealing charm.) Anastasia: “There, she’ll be perfectly preserved in there until we have time to come back and give her a proper burial. Now come on!” (Anastasia grabs Will’s hand and pulls him along the deserted streets.) Storybrooke. Forest. (Bathed in moonlight, Mulan and Ruby explore each other's bodies while the campfire crackles beside them. Unnoticed by the lovers, a lone figure passes by their campsite through the shadows. Stepping momentarily into view, we see that Mordred has finally re-emerged from hiding.) The Dragon's Lair. Hallway. (Knocking on Regina's dressing room door, Emma waits for an answer.) Regina: (From inside:) "Who is it?" Emma: (Smiling:) "Your number one fan." Regina: (Chuckles:) "Come in." Dressing Room. (Opening the door, Emma is about to shower Regina with praise when she takes in the sight before her. Clad in only her underwear and with her bra undone, resting beneath her exposed breasts, Regina lays posed waiting for Emma's arrival.) Regina: (Reclined on the couch:) "Would you mind closing that? (Dumbly, Emma closes the door:) What took you so long?" Emma: "Apparently a fight broke out. Lily and Hook are dealing with it though. (Staring at her wife:) What would you have done if it was someone else at the door?" Regina: (Chuckles:) "Emma, I saw how you were watching me. I think if anyone else had tried to knock on my door, you would have shot them." Emma: "Fair point. (Walking further into the room:) You... you were... unbelievable." Regina: (Smiles:) "You enjoyed it then?" Emma: (Removing her jacket:) "Do you really want me to give you a full review right now while you're laying there naked or would you like me to catch up?" Regina: (Considers:) "How about both?" Emma: (Chuckles, unbuttoning her jeans:) "There are so many words to describe what I just witnessed, but I'll do us both a favour and start at the middle and work my way down." Regina: "Hm, so words starting with ‘M’ then?" Emma: "You were marvellous, mesmerising and magnificent. (Pulling her top over her head and throwing it aside:) But best of all... (Leans over Regina and kisses her deeply, taking the reclined woman's breath away:) You are undeniably, (Moves lower to place a kiss on Regina's right breast:) one hundred percent... (Kisses the other breast, gently removing the bra and tossing it aside:) without a shadow of a doubt... (Lays a trail of kisses over Regina's stomach, dipping her tongue into her belly button. Reaching Regina's underwear, she takes hold of them:) Mine." (Lifting her hips in anticipation, Regina yelps with delight as Emma removes her underwear in one smooth, powerful motion.) Regina: "Now and forever, my love." Emma: (Sinking to her knees, places each of Regina's legs over her shoulders:) "Shh, rest your voice. Because after what you did out there, and what I'm about to do in here, you might not be able to speak for a very long time." (Emma lowers her mouth to Regina's center. With the first touch of Emma's lips to her folds, Regina throws back her head ready to sing once more, although this time the sounds coming from her lips are cries of ecstasy, reserved only for her preferred audience of one.)

#sq #swanqueen #swan queen

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chapter-61 · 4 years

Text

the reunion

CARRY ON COUNTDOWN DAY 14: Favorite Trope/Cliche

AO3, AU

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

I can, actually. Simon Snow can make me do anything just by asking. I’m weak.

“Don’t be dramatic,” the man in question tells me. “We’ll be fine.”

“You’re not the one who’s going to have to pretend to be dating you,” I say, because snark is my default state around Simon. This night is going to be horrible.

“It’s not too late to back out, I can always call Penny,” Simon says, as if he hadn’t asked her first. She said no, of course, so Simon had to come to me. That’s what I am, a last resort.

“We’re almost there, Snow. We might as well, now.” In fact, we’ve only got one intersection left, and then we’re at the location.

“Turn right here,” he points.

“I know.”

He rolls his eyes and I grin at the windshield. Annoying Simon is my specialty, after all. However, I might have to turn it down a notch for tonight.

“Try to be nice, alright? Or else this isn’t going to work.”

“I’m a fantastic actor,” I say as I parallel park the car perfectly. I’m not lying, I am a good actor. I’ve been friends with Simon for five years now, and he still hasn’t noticed my massive crush on him. We were roommates in college, and from the first moment I saw him, I was smitten. Then, he had to be the nicest guy possible, always helping me with projects and staying up late to spell-check my essays, and the rest is history.

Him not figuring it out might also have to do with his utter obliviousness, of course, because I’m quite sure that Penny has known for a while. He was probably distracted by Agatha, as well. But we don’t think about Agatha.

I turn off the car and wrestle myself out. I’m a bit too tall for my car, but I really like the model. Plus, driving around London with a big car is a nightmare, so I’ll keep my small one, thank you very much.

I shake my head to make my hair look elegantly messy and adjust my suit slightly while I move to the sidewalk, where Simon is waiting. He’s not looking too bad, his curls slightly more tamed than usual and wearing a gorgeous blue suit that matches his eyes. He’s a sight for sore eyes, alright. And I get to be his pretend boyfriend for the night. Terrific.

Simon exhales a laugh when I’ve reached him, and he’s looking at my suit. I feel slightly offended. It might be a bit overkill, but I know I look amazing in my flowered suit. I lift an eyebrow, daring him to say something, but he wisely stays quiet.

As we’re walking to the building he pointed out earlier, I say, “Remind me why I’m here again?”

“Baz, I’ve told you.”

“I want to laugh at you again,” I tell him. No other ulterior motives, of course.

He looks at me sideways and huffs. “We’re going to my school reunion. I wasn’t planning to go, but one of the bullies from back then baited me and now I can’t not show up.”

I nod along. “Of course. And?”

He sighs extensively, but continues. “I told him I’d bring my partner, but he didn’t believe me. Because who would want to date me, right?”

I tactfully keep my mouth shut.

“And then I asked Agatha and initially she said yes, but then, you know. We broke up. And now you’re here.”

“Because you asked me to be your pretend boyfriend.”

He groans and I laugh as if being his boyfriend is such a laughably idea.

“We’re here,” Simon says as we arrive at a wide building with glass doors. There’s a lot of people inside. Suddenly this seems like a bad idea.

“Wait,” I grab his arm (hello, biceps) and pull him back a little, so we don’t keep people from entering.

He looks at me questioningly, and then looks down at his arm where I’m still holding it. Oops. We’re not even inside yet and this night is already going great. I pull my hand back like I touched a stove (same thing, really) and clear my throat.

“What’s our story?”

“Huh?” He frowns. “Oh, right, we’re dating.”

I’d be lying if I said that didn’t make my heart flutter. Pathetic.

He says, “Can’t we use our story but with a few tweaks? Roommates in college, now we’re dating.”

“Romantic,” I remark, trying to extinguish my gay panic. Why did I agree to this?

Simon laughs. Oh yes, that’s why. “We’ll improvise, come on.”

He grabs my hand and pulls me to the doors. As we enter, I keep my eyes entirely on the people around me and the decorations, ignoring the burning feeling of Simon’s hand in mine.

We walk past a group of people, most of them our age. I can feel a lot of eyes on us, although I’m not sure if it’s because we’re two men holding hands or because I’m wearing this ridiculous suit. I flash them a nervous smile, finding myself incapable of anything else. The Baz from this morning would kick my arse for not looking intimidating, but he’s not in this situation.

Simon has finally stopped pulling me along. It appears we stopped at the food tables. Predictably.

“Are we going to hide here, forever?” Please say yes.

“Of course not,” he scoffs. “I just wanted to get a vantage point of the room.”

“And a snack,” I say, because I can see straight through his bullshit.

“And a snack,” he admits. He releases my hand in favour of a scone on the table. I glare at it.

Simon takes a bite and notices me looking. “What?” He says, mouth full. I shouldn’t find it so endearing.

Before I can reply, we’re joined by two women. “Oh my god,” one of them says. “Simon Snow?”

He manages to swallow his scone and smiles pleasantly at them. I can’t wait to see how this turns out. “Hi,” he says. “Uh...”

I snort. He clearly forgot who these women are. I decide to save him. “Good evening, girls. I’m Baz. Simon’s boyfriend,” I add, because I can. If only for one night.

Next to me, Simon chokes on his scone. For someone who loves food, he’s really bad at eating.

“Nice to meet you, Baz,” the first woman says to me. “I’m Anastasia, this is Nadine. We were in Simon’s class.”

“Right!” Simon has recovered. “Sorry, you just look really different.”

Anastasia laughs. “I’d hope so! You’ve changed a lot, too.”

Do I sense a hint of flirtation there? I will not stand for this. “I love your dress, Nadine. Did you make it yourself?”

“I did!” Nadine confirms. It was a fairly easy guess, considering how terrible it looks. It’s grey, boring, and hangs off her body without accentuating any shapes. I’m not saying I would be able to make a better dress, but I could.

“So, Simon,” Anastasia starts. I almost roll my eyes. This lady. “What do you do now? I always imagined you as a hero of some sort, like a fireman or a doctor.”

“I’m a kindergarten teacher, actually.” Simon says with pride. It makes me smile. He’s always crazy proud of those kids, constantly texting me about them and sending me pictures of drawings they made. He’ll be a great father someday.

I realise I’ve stopped listening to the conversation and I’ve been staring at Simon with a lovesick smile on my face for a few seconds and school my expression.

I’m pretty sure Nadine noticed but she doesn’t say anything, she just looks amused. Anastasia has come closer and is now within touching distance of Simon. Alarms are going off in my head but I keep still. I’m not his actual boyfriend, I shouldn’t care.

Then Anastasia laughs exaggeratedly and puts her hand on Simon’s chest, and I’m moving. I’ve grabbed his hand in a second and I tell the women, “We’re going to snog now,” while pulling Simon with me to an empty corner of the room.

Simon looks perplexed when I finally let go. I may have overreacted. “What are you doing?” He asks.

“What am I doing? What are you doing? That woman was clearly flirting with you!” I try not to sound too affected.

“Huh?” He says intelligently.

“I’m pretending to be your boyfriend,” I tell him, “you can’t go around letting people flirt with you while I’m standing right there!”

Simon frowns. “She wasn’t flirting with me.”

“God, Snow. You wouldn’t recognize someone having a crush on you if they were right in front of you.”

That hit a bit too close to home. I need alcohol. Thankfully, a waiter passes by us, and I grab a glass of champagne. I chug it in one go. It makes me feel slightly better about this evening.

Simon hasn’t said a word. He’s rubbing his neck and looking around.

“Seen him yet?” I ask.

“Hm? Who?”

“The bully. The reason we’re here.” I feel like I shouldn’t be reminding him of this, when he’s been so focused on this event the last few days.

“Oh. No, I haven’t seen him yet.”

I lean back against the wall and pull my leg up at an angle. “Next you’ll tell me you just wanted a reason to take me here.”

“Ha ha,” he says, still looking around. “Funny.”

“I try.”

It seems like most people have arrived. I take my phone out of my jacket and look at the time. Half past nine. Everyone should be here by now, unless they’re fashionably late.

Simon has settled on the wall next to me. I lean toward him. “Hey. How long are we staying?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know, we’ll see.”

I accept another glass of champagne. Simon hasn’t touched anything except for that one scone.

“D’you want another scone?” I ask him.

“Huh?”

God, what’s wrong with him? Somewhere between the women and now, something’s changed.

“Are you hungry? You’re awfully quiet all of a sudden.”

“I’m fine,” he says, not very convincing because he’s still staring in front of him.

I shuffle closer and hit him with my shoulder. I don’t know why. I keep it there, so our shoulders and arms are touching. It feels nice. I feel warm inside, but that might be the alcohol.

I can see someone coming over, so I reach out and grab Simon’s hand. I can feel him jump slightly, but he doesn’t react otherwise. It’s a man, relatively attractive, that goes straight for Simon.

“Simon! It’s been a long time, mate!”

Simon’s face lights up and he pulls away to shake the man’s hand. “Michael! I didn’t know you were coming.”

The man, Michael, shrugs. “Danielle talked me into it. What about you? I thought you said you couldn’t make it?”

I raise an eyebrow. Interesting. Simon laughs, but it sounds more like a nervous laugh. I’m not sure what’s going on. He makes a gesture at me. “Baz talked me into it as well.”

Michael turns to me. Like I said, relatively attractive. Next to Simon, he’s much less handsome. He looks at me curiously. “Baz, huh?”

“That’s me,” I smile. I’m using my empty glass as an excuse not to shake his hand.

“You’re, uhm… Together?”

“Yes,” I say. I’m his terrible boyfriend that he doesn’t even want to talk to.

“Really?” Michael sounds surprised as he turns back to Simon. The latter seems embarrassed for some reason. I’m not following.

“Since college,” I add.

“Interesting.”

Okay, what is happening? Everyone is suddenly incredibly reserved. I’m beginning to think there was something in my drink.

“Say, Michael,” I start. “You wouldn’t happen to know a bully from your school that would be here, would you?”

“A bully?” He turns to Simon again. “Who’s he talking about?”

“We’re only here for him,” I continue, “then we can go home, right Simon?”

He nods slowly, but he’s exchanging looks with Michael and I don’t like it.

“Oh, there you are!” A woman, presumably Danielle, joins us. “Honey, who are these handsome men?”

I’d feel flattered if I weren’t so confused.

Michael puts his arm around Danielle’s waist and gestures to Simon and I. “It’s Simon. I’ve told you about him.”

“Oh, Simon Snow! Nice to finally meet you,” she smiles at him warmly. I like her much more than Anastasia already.

“Hi, Danielle.” He looks like he’d rather jump out of a window than continue this conversation, and I can’t begin to wonder why. I’m quite certain Danielle is not the bully Simon was talking about, because he’d been using he/him pronouns.

I step forward so I’m next to my pretend boyfriend, and raise my glass at Danielle. “Hello, I’m Baz, Simon’s boyfriend.”

“Baz! I’ve heard so much about you! Wait.” She looks between us. I can hear Simon sigh next to me. “Boyfriend?”

“Uhm,” Simon says.

I copy Michael and put my arm around Simon’s waist. I feel him stiffen. We probably should’ve practiced this before tonight, but I didn’t think Simon would indulge me.

“Yes,” I say, because Simon is quiet.

Danielle looks delighted. “Oh, wow! Finally! Congratulations. Michael told me a lot about you two and I’m glad you finally worked it out.”

Michael and Simon both suddenly look very uncomfortable.

“It’s not...” Simon starts.

Danielle talks right over him. “How many times I’ve had to listen to Michael’s rants about Simon, concerning you! And then when he started dating that Agatha, he was very frustrated with him,” she tells me. I’m having trouble keeping track of what she’s saying.

“Danielle--” Michael starts.

“Oh Simon,” she keeps going, facing Simon now. “I told Michael it’d work out! I knew that if you just told him--”

“Okay!” Michael practically shouts, dragging Danielle away. “We’re going to get some food. I’ll see you later, Simon.”

“What?” I hear Danielle say while she’s being dragged away.

I am utterly lost. “What the hell is going on?” I demand.

“Fuck,” Simon replies.

“Simon?”

He’s leaning against the wall again and slowly sliding down to the floor. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s definitely something,” I say. “Wait here.”

I walk towards the table with drinks and drink some water, evading eye contact with the people around me. I’m not in the mood.

When I feel significantly less tipsy, I go back to Simon. He’s sitting on the floor now, with his hands in his hair.

“Simon,” I repeat. “What’s going on? What was she talking about?”

I join him on the floor and poke his leg.

“Can we just pretend this never happened?” He mumbles.

“Absolutely not.”

Simon huffs. “That’s what I thought.”

“Answer me.”

“I’m sure you’ve figured it out by now, you’re smart.”

My head is reeling and I’m glad I’m sitting down. “Pretend I’m still drunk and explain it to me.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Simon.”

“Baz.”

I reach out for his hands and gently take them from his head. I hold them between us and squeeze once. “Simon,” I repeat, quieter.

He sighs and lifts his head. He looks at me with a painful grimace, and then looks down at our hands. “I’ve been talking to Michael a lot over the past months,” he starts. “And after a while he noticed how much I mentioned you, even while I was still dating Agatha.”

My heart is beating so fast, I think I might faint.

“And he made me realise some things, I guess.”

“You guess?” I can’t help but interrupt.

“Yes, you twit. I realised something, and it was incredibly scary. Because I was still dating Agatha, you see? So I told her, and we broke up.”

“You weren’t that sad about it,” I’m starting to understand.

“Not really. We separated as friends. I told Penny, and she told me to take you here with me.”

“So there’s no bully? Why?”

“I just… Wanted to test it.”

“Wanted to test what?” I ask. I feel close to bursting.

Simon laughs slightly. “Test this.” He shakes our clasped hands. “Us.”

“Huh.” My soul has left my body at the moment.

“I was sure you didn’t feel the same way, but then you’ve been saying some things today, and now you’re being weird, so...”

“Simon.”

“You’ve been calling me Simon a lot this evening.”

“Simon.”

“Yes, Baz?”

“Say it.”

“Say what?” Now he’s just teasing me.

“You know what I mean.”

He smiles at me and I’m about to combust.

Then, on the tile floor of this random building, hired for a special event that Simon dragged me to under false pretenses, he says:

“I’m in love with you.”

My head was spinning but now everything is bright and clear and I laugh happily. “You’re terrible.”

He looks amused. “What?”

“I’ve been in love with you for five years, you incredible nightmare.”

His mouth falls open. “Really? Why didn’t you say anything?!”

“I didn’t think you felt the same way!”

“I think I’ve always been a little bit in love with you, it’s just gotten a lot stronger this year.”

“Well.” I say. I can’t believe this is happening.

Simon grins at me. Because he’s in love with me. Simon Snow is in love with me! “Well,” he says. And then, he leans forward.

And then, on this tile floor, he kisses me.

#this is the longest one yet #carry on countdown #coc 2019 #day 14 #carry on #my fics #pretty amazed that i wrote this tbh dfkjsjf

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secret-captain-swan-blog · 4 years

Text

Castle on the Hill

English Literature PhD student Emma Swan just needs money to pay for her last semester of grad school tuition. Killian Jones has always dreamed of opening a bookshop but has never been able to afford it. So when the small principality of Misthaven is looking for their lost princess, the pair decide that this might just be the perfect money making scheme.A Multi-chapter Modern Day + Lost Princess (think Rapunzel/Anastasia-esque) + Book Lovers in a Coffee Shop AU

Rating: T

Word Count: 94580/ ?

Prologue (Part 1 + 2) // Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8 // Ch 9 // Ch 10 // Ch 11 // Ch 12 // Ch 13 // Ch 14 // Ch 15 // Ch 16

Read on: Ao3

“Are you ready to go love?” Killian asks. He’s in the kitchen, drying the last of the plates from dinner.

Emma peers her head out of the bedroom, a smile on her face.

“Almost, I just need shoes,” she says.

It’d been a week since Emma had made peace with the Queen. Killian is endlessly proud of her courage and wisdom. He knows for a fact that forgiveness isn’t easy. The fact that Emma was able to forgive the Queen so openly, well, he admires her for that.

It was earlier this week that Emma booked her flight home. Killian’s throat had caught as he looked at the date on the ticket- just a few days before Christmas. Less than two weeks away. He’s tried to imagine spending Christmas without this woman who had firmly planted herself in his life. The thought of Christmas with Ruby and Granny, which had previously been a comforting thought, now makes him feel empty.

It was from this anxiety that he’d suggested they take one last trip to the opera house together. Emma had admitted that she was uncomfortable asking the queen for tickets and Killian agreed. Instead, she’d gotten them from the international student center at the university. It was for a ballet and Killian thought it would be a nice goodbye to a place that had been part of their journey together.

He’s pulled from his thoughts as she walks out of the room a moment later with a smile on her face. She’s dressed in a knee-length black dress with long sleeves and a jeweled belt around her waist to accentuate her thin frame. Her hair is pulled up in a high ponytail, curling over her shoulder. Killian’s eyes linger over her dark eyelashes and bright red lips.

“Do I look alright?” She whispers.

Killian swallows, thinking about how lovely she looks, and how little time they have.

“Wonderful, love,” He manages, before offering her his arm.

Emma grabs her purse, opens the door, and leans on him as they walk out of the apartment. The path to the tram from Emma’s apartment is second nature to Killian now, as is the signature way they board the tram- Emma first with her card and Killian with his leap.

With the change of season, it gets darker now. The tram ride is a blur of light against the dark backdrop of the night sky. Killian weaves his arm around Emma and pulls her close. He cherishes each tiny moment of closeness they get. He wants to feel her for every moment they have left.

They get off at “Opèra” and make their way up to the opera house. The seats aren’t in the private box this time, but among the other International Students in the balcony.

“Maybe we should have invested in opera glasses at this point,” Killian mutters, as he finds his seat. They are still velvet lined and comfortable.

“Nah, it’s nice to see the formations from here. Balcony is good for ballet,” Emma tells him. She glances down at her program. “It’s a guest performance by the Royal Ballet. I saw them do a different show in London. They were spectacular.”

Killian smiles at her, impressed that she’s become a ballet aficionado. Killian doesn’t even know what the show is. He reaches for Emma’s program.

“Anastasia?” He asks, looking at the font swirling on top of a grey background. It’s unfamiliar to him.

“Didn’t you even see the animated movie growing up? With Meg Ryan?” She replies.

He shakes his head after racking his brain and coming up with nothing.

“It was a classic at one of the group homes I was at,” Emma says. “I’d watch it all the time.”

“Is it about the Romanov girl?” He asks, thinking to a history class he had in England.

She nods. “Yeah, well, the movie is like completely fairy tale. It’s about an orphan who discovers that she’s Princess Anastasia and for some reason she’s in Paris and Rasputin wants to kill her. The songs are great. And there is like this cute, little singing bat.”

Killian laughs, trying to picture it. “We’ll have to watch it sometime.”

Emma nods, “Anyway, weird that there is a ballet about it.”

Killian flips through the program, looking for more information. Emma folds her hands on his shoulder and rests her chin on them, peering at it.

“But look, this ballet was made way before that kids’ movie,” she points out.

“What does that mean?”

But then the orchestra begins the overture and the lights dim. They both take their gaze from the program to the stage.

The first two acts are lively, full of pre-Revolution Imperial memories. It’s balls and family and ornate displays of royalty. It’s like the kind of vision that lives on the corners of Killian’s memory.

When the third act comes, everything changes. The ballet is now set in a mental hospital in Berlin. The girl who believes she’s Anastasia is dancing madly across the stage. Her steps are crude and wild. Killian shivers, gooseflesh appearing on his arms. She’s delusional. She’s mad. It’s terrifying.

Beside him, he notices Emma gripping the armrest of her chair, her eyes glassy and distant. He reaches out and strokes her arm, then cards his finger through a few strands of her hair. She glances at him, stirred by his touch. Her eyes are haunted and tired. He’d hoped that his touch would soothe her, but she looks so tense.

He tries to understand what could have provoked this. She’d seemed fine at the interval. Then a realization dawns on Killian: she could be remembering.

He’s kept his suspicion quiet for months, ever since Emma asked him not to mention it. He understands her request. No point getting your hopes up about something that might not ever happen.

But he still thinks she might be the real deal. A bit of his soul starts to soar as he thinks of it. For a moment, he lets himself imagine Emma remembering everything and discovering that she is in fact the Lost Princess. He imagines her being fitted for gowns and going to balls, looking brilliant as always. He imagines her moving into a castle, being taken care of properly for once in her life. He imagines her finishing out her PhD here, writing her dissertation while balancing her royal duties. He lets himself dream of her life being here in Misthaven, instead of oceans away on a continent he’s never been to. He likes the certainty of her in this fantasy and perhaps that is the true fantasy of it. A life where Emma is firmly beside him for good.

The final bows are taken and curtain drops. Emma reaches for his hand.

“Can we hurry out? I really need some air,” She tells him.

He nods, squeezing her hand and following her down the aisle. They don’t linger in the lobby. He follows Emma’s lead and they go right to the door.

Once they are in the cool winter air, he watches her take huge gulping breaths. He pulls her towards him into a hug. She doesn’t resist him and she rests her head on his shoulder. He realizes she’s shaking a bit.

“Are you okay, love?” He asks.

She purses her lips and shakes her head. “Not really.”

He doesn’t want to ask her, but the fantasy, the hope of epiphany, can’t leave his mind.

“Have you, erm, remembered anything that’s disturbed you?” He asks softly, letting his head drip down to speak into her ear.

She looks up at him, her forehead wrinkling, “What do you mean, remembered anything?”

He frowns, not knowing how to keep from her from realizing what he thought. Before he can explain, she makes the realization.

She draws away.

“Oh my god, Killian. You can’t still possibly think that I’m Princess Emma. That can’t be further from the truth and you know that as well as I.”

He grimaces, upset that he triggered this reaction in her.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, love,” He says, as Emma takes a few steps back. “I just saw your face and you looked so disturbed. I hoped, foolishly hoped, that it was because you were having some sort of lovely epiphany.”

“Well, I’m did and I’m not,” Emma retorts.

“So what is on your mind?” He asks.

“Let’s go sit by the river,” Emma says.

He knows she’s stalling some sort of conversation, but he follows her nonetheless. He’s pleased that Misthaven is having a small winter heat wave so that it’s tolerable to sit outside. They cross the love-lock bridge and sit along the quai, legs dangling over the water.

He thinks of their first night together at the opera, when they sat together in this same spot, sharing a bottle of champagne. That’s when he tried to kiss Emma for the first time and she shied away from his kiss. So much has changed since then. A wave of reassurance falls over him. If they can go from that embarrassing night to where they are now, they can surely overcome whatever is disturbing her now.

“I was just thinking about how that Anastasia, or I guess her name was Anna,” Emma says. “She had an excuse.”

“What do you mean an excuse?” Killian says.

“For what she was doing, all the pain she is causing,” Emma tells him.

“I don’t believe you’ve caused pain to anyone,” he says, perplexed. “If anything, you’ve made my life, the Queen’s life, much better.”

She shakes her head.

“I did have an epiphany during the show,” Emma says. “But not a good one.”

“Oh?” He questions, daring to reach out and stroke her hair again. She doesn’t draw away from his touch this time. He’s grateful for that.

“I was thinking about Alice,” she says. He can’t help but grimace at the name, a fresh wave of pain flooding over him. “And how disappointed you were that she wasn’t your daughter. You were so upset. I was too. It was like a true loss to realize that someone you thought was your daughter wasn’t.”

Killian nods, the grief still lingering in his bones.

“And I realized that it was exactly what we were doing to the queen,” Emma says. “We’re leading her on, celebrating our sabotage.”

Killian runs his hand down her back. “Emma, love, I don’t think that we’ve been trying to misinform her for a while. I think that she’s come to care for you regardless. Didn’t you say that she said that to you?”

“But it doesn’t matter if we’ve given up on it,” she protests. “That was our intention. We wanted to hurt her. We wanted to take advantage of her pain. We wanted to profit off of it.”

She looks up at him. “It’s despicable. I can’t imagine that we wanted to give that pain you went through to anyone else.”

“Oh Swan,” he says. “I know that was our intention, but can you accept that we’ve done more good than bad? You’ve made the queen so happy.”

“No, there’s no excuse,” Emma says sharply. “We aren’t crazy. We aren’t in a mental hospital, imagining that we are someone else. We were greedy. We were unable to see the Queen as a human person with emotions. It’s disgusting. I’m sorry I was a part of any of this.”

Killian frowns. “Sorry you’ve been with me?”

“No, no, Killian, never,” she says. “I just feel guilty.”

“I know,” he says.

He pulls her towards him. She rests her head on his shoulder.

“I love you,” she says softly.

He kisses her hair, “I love you too, darling.”

“What if we visited the Memorial Gardens tomorrow?” Emma asks.

“Of course, love. Your wish is my command.”

“I just feel like I need to make reparations with the real Princess Emma,” she says.

“I’m sure she’ll forgive you,” he teases. “But for now, let’s go home, shall we Swan?”

The cobblestone path curves up the hill, flanked by rows of houses. The architecture of the houses match the castle in a way. Emma thinks it’s nice. She’s never been in this part of Misthaven before. It’s on the Old Town side of the river, up the hill from the Opera House and Saint Anne’s.

The cobblestone path gives way to an elaborate iron archway made up of floral designs and patterns. A plaque against the wall next to it reads, “Misthaven Memorial Gardens.”

Emma swallows, thinking how bizarre it is that this path leads right to these gardens. It’s as if it’s always been leading her this way. It’s as if Misthaven itself in its fundamental architecture was leading her to these gardens. It’s funny then to think that she hasn’t been there yet. She’s been to art galleries and parks and mountainside hikes and to the opera house. Yet, she hasn’t been to the part of Misthaven that seems to truly lie at its heart. This place that has existed to capture and memorialize the pain of a nation. Emma’s engaged in that pain through stories, through personal testimonies, but she hasn’t let herself be fully immersed in it.

Until now. That’s why she’s here. She wants to feel it all. She wants to understand Princess Emma who was lost, who was murdered on this night. Maybe if she can make sense of it, she’ll stop feeling guilty for a crime she didn’t commit.

The gardens are wooded with the same lovely old trees that Emma noticed in their other forest walks and in the woods near the Du Bois house in Belgium. There isn’t any snow today, because of the unusually warm weather. Indian Summer is what Emma used to call it in America. She wonders if it has the same name here.

She reaches for Killian’s hand and leans on his shoulder. They walk through the forested path till they reach a clearing. It’s all neat gardens here, arranged in a European style with a long pool down the middle, flowering artfully arranged on either side.

“There is a walled garden over there,” Killian says, pointing. “And a bog garden over in that part. There is even a Japanese garden in that area. The Royal Family put it in while I lived there.”

Emma sighs. “I want to know more about that.”

“About what?” Killian asks.

“I want to know what it was like when you lived here. When you left here, that night. Can you tell me?” Her voice is small, soft.

He nods and tugs on her hand. They walk around the castle. Her eyes are drawn to the high ramparts, the swirling towers of the castle in the imposing grey stone. In this back part of the castle a long meadow stretches out, forming a grassy plane that gives way to the forest.

Killian beckons her to a bench. They sit.

“I don’t remember it perfectly,” he says softly. “I was very young.”

She nods, scooching over so that their legs touch. His arm wraps around her back. The other points up at a tower.

“Do you see that? It’s the princess’s tower,” he says. “We knew it was coming for weeks, that there was a threat to the kingdom, a barbarian rebellion brewing deep in the town. There were preparations made. The King and Queen worked out a plan with Liam to make sure the Princess could escape. They knew that their fates were likely fixed, but they wanted Emma to have her best chance to live.”

Emma looks at the tiny tower at the top of the castle, imagining inside a little girl’s bedroom.

Killian continues, “Liam was posted to Princess Emma’s room and stayed there day and night with her till the threat passed or came to fruition. I was ordered to stay there with her as well, so I’d have a chance to escape under Liam’s protection. Liam was to go to America with the girl to seek asylum there. I wasn’t allowed to go, there was worry that one more child would make the thing so risky.”

Emma nods, watching the story dance across Killian’s face.

“Gods, Emma, I wish I could forget that night. It’s haunted me my whole life. Sometimes I still dream about it.”

Regret seeps through her. She’s asked too much of him.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “You don’t have to keep going. I didn’t know-“

He shakes his head, before reaching out to stroke her hair. “Emma, I want you to know all my stories. Even the hard ones. The haunting ones.”

She reaches out to run a thumb over his eyebrow, then along his jawline.

“That night there were gunshots in the castle that awoke us and everything was put into motion. Liam smashed the window, the beautiful stained glass one in the Princess’s room. He had this repelling kit that was already ready to go. He had me hold onto his back and put the Princess flush against his chest. We repelled down and it was terrifying. We didn’t know if there were snipers in the woods. If there were, I’d be the first shot. There were arrows, no guns. It’s hard to get weapons inside of Misthaven, so we think now that they only gave those to insurgents. Anyway, the arrows flickered by my head and I wondered if I was going to die.”

Emma can’t imagine a boy so young dealing with such a terrifying realization.

“When we were half way down, I heard the worst noise I’d ever heard. There was a gun shot, then a scream. I recognized as the Queen’s and I knew she’d been murdered. If she was dead, then surely so was the King. I remembered how kind they were, caring for me and Liam after everything we’d been through. They gave me a chance at an education, a chance to have a good home, to be well-fed even. And now they were gone.”

Emma gulps. She thinks of the woman she knows who is full of more compassion than she’s ever known. She suddenly sees a new side of Mary Margaret. The side that cared for Killian as a child. She might not be her mother, but she was something of that for Killian. Emma’s heart soars at the thought. She can picture Mary Margaret doting on a tiny Killian, reading him books and giving him bon bons.

“My brother told me to run when we reached the ground. He told me I’d be safe at my grans. He took off in one direction with the Princess and I went in another. I didn’t know that’d be the last time I’d see him. I thought that maybe one day he’d return to me. Or he’d call or send for me. There was nothing. I ran through those woods on my own, my heart thumping in my chest, wondering if I’d get caught, if I’d be found. But I wasn’t. I made it to my grans’ safely. She was surprised to see me. She wasn’t particularly nurturing, too old to be as grandma-like as I’d hoped, but she provided for me.”

Emma senses his story ending and leans her head against his shoulder.

“I’m shocked that the queen survived. I’m still upset, sometimes, that Liam didn’t. I used to lie in bed at night as a teenager, when I was in the young offender’s institution, and look at the ceiling and think about that scream. I used to be so angry at the Princess. She was off in America with my brother and here I was alone and betrayed. It’s sad now, I suppose. They both are dead. I was the one who was better off.”

She presses a kiss to his cheek. His arms wrap around her back and he pulls her to him.

She doesn’t realize that he’s teared up until he says in a choked-up voice, “You don’t know how much joy you’ve brought to my life, Emma. I was so sad. I was struggling for so long. And you’ve given me so much hope.”

“Oh Killian,” she replies. “You’ve given me so much too. I’m so grateful for you. Every day.”

There was a part of her that was fighting for so long; that was angry and walled up and hurt for so long. But Killian broke those walls down. Mary Margaret did too. Misthaven truly has been responsible for everything good in her life.

She wishes she could thank it. She wishes she could give something back to this place that has given everything to her.

Her eyes sweep across the field, as she imagines little Princess Emma running across it with Liam. It’s almost too real, too vivid before her eyes.

Where the field meets the forest, she sees something for a moment that she thinks is a figure. At first she shivers, thinking they’ve been watched this whole time. But the figure is too still to be real. There’s three figures.

Oh.

“Is that a statue over there?” She asks Killian.

He nods.

“Let’s go see it,” she says.

They walk across the field slowly, hand clasped tight. The field is dotted with wild flowers, beautiful in the bright light of Indian Summer, but for a moment she imagines them as arrows. She can see the scene of horror, almost too vividly, almost too real, like a ghost of trauma that existed here. It’s like pain dwells so deeply in this space that she can see it before her, as if she was there.

They read the statue. It’s brass, shiny, showing how new the pain is. This isn’t the kind of revolution that happened years ago, but one that floods the memory of everyone in this small country.

The statue is of a family, the Royal Family. She sees Mary Margaret at once. Her hair was longer then, wavy and young. She was so young.

And the King. Emma’s not thought much about the King, as if he was just a side character to this story, but she sees him now, kind-faced and noble. She wonders if he played little games with Princess Emma. She wonders if Mary Margaret loved him as fiercely as Emma herself loves Killian. Yes, she thinks, she must have.

Her eyes finally find the Princess. Emma can’t help but take a step closer. The small girl, with ringlets and a familiar tiara. With a lurch in her gut, Emma knows why it looks familiar. It’s the same she saw in the pawn shop where they met the hooded man in August. It couldn’t be… but she knows it could.

She follows the little girl’s features, her wide eyes, so full of curiosity and hope for the future. Emma fills with rage at everything taken from her, that future ripped away from the small girl.

Emma’s gaze finally lands on her chin. Without thinking, Emma lifts her hand to let her thumb rub over the tiny dip in her chin, just as Killian has done many times to Emma herself. They’ve all been right. They are the same.

It’s so silly, she thinks now, that they wanted to plan this giant con based on blond hair, an accent, and a dimpled chin. It only makes her feel more stupid, more guilty.

So guilty, in fact. It slams Emma in its enormity, tears springing unwillingly to her eyes. So much has been taken away from this family, from Queen Mary Margaret, and she was willing to continue that. Emma wanted to continue to hurt this woman who has been hurt more than anyone deserves in one lifetime.

Emma feels nauseous, dizzy. She can’t be here. She can’t be part of this. In even planning out the impersonation, she participated in this violence against Misthaven. She’s perpetrated the same crime that has been carelessly carried out by greedy girls, by violent men, by rebels who sought to hurt the country that has given her everything.

“Emma,” Killian asks, grasping her arm as she begins to sway. “Are you alright, love?”

She doesn’t want his companionship right now. She’s struggling for breath and the only thing that can free her is admission of the truth.

“I just need some space,” she says. “Do you mind if I walk a bit on my own? I need to clear my mind.”

“Yes, of course, Swan,” he says, dutiful as ever. “I’m going to read for a bit in the English gardens, just around the other side. Come find me when you need me.”

He presses a kiss to her cheek, as her eyes stay glued on the statue.

“Emma,” he whispers. “Look at me.”

She turns to him. He cups her face in his hands, his eyes sincere with concern.

“Don’t get lost in your thoughts, love. Don’t build higher walls.”

She tries to nod, but instead, he lurches forward to put a kiss on her lips. There is an edge of desperation to his lips, as if he is trying to keep her with him. As if he knows what’s on her mind and wants to keep her grounded, before chaos erupts. As if he knows they might only have now.

“I know,” she says, trying to give him a smile.

He squeezes her hand before he walks away.

Emma stays at the statue, her gaze meeting the Princess’s for a few moments as she watches Killian round the castle and out of sight. With her mind made up, she turns. She feels like she’s possessed by a force not of her own. It’s like her feet are willing her in the direction of castle, regardless of what her mind says is foolish or right.

She approaches from a side entrance. There are security guards there with metal detecting wands. They search her bag and let her enter. Inside, sits a desk with a receptionist. She’s struck by how tiny Misthaven is. If this was anywhere else, she wouldn’t even be able to get this far.

“Hi, I’m Emma Swan,” she says. “Is it possible I could speak with Prime Minister Mills? She knows who I am and I think she’d like to listen to me.”

The woman looks surprised, maybe at Emma’s accent or how forward she is, but she nods and picks up the phone. She speaks something in French for a few moments, before turning back to Emma.

“The Prime Minister will be down in a few moments,” she says.

Emma nods, trying to stay calm. She looks around what she thought was a lobby, but now she recognizes it as an entrance hall to a castle. There are twin tapestries on each wall, ornate gold cross hatching across the roof. A magnificent chandelier dangles in the middle of the ceiling.

She wanders closer to the wall, almost in a trance. She wants to reach out and touch the wall, feel the cold stone under her fingers. She feels like she’s lost in one of her old childhood dreams of castle corridors. She shivers as she pulls up the tendrils of memory from those dreams- being a Princess, waiting for someone to save her. She thinks again of social workers from her childhood. The ones who told her that her brain made up those stories, those dreams, to mask whatever truly horrible thing had happened to her as a child. She wonders if she and Princess Emma are akin in that way- having brunt trauma as a child. There’s that.

“Emma,” a voice interrupts.

She was expecting to hear the crisp tutting of, “Miss Swan,” from the Prime Minister. But instead, Emma turns to see the Queen. Her heart swoops.

“What are you doing here?” Mary Margaret asks.

Emma shakes her head, “I was looking to see the Prime Minister, but actually, you’re just the person I wanted to talk to.”

“Oh?” The Queen says.

“I think we should talk,” Emma says.

“Yes, okay,” Mary Margaret replies. “There is a quiet sitting room in the center of the castle. I’ll tell Prime Minister Mills to meet us there when she can. I was just visiting her earlier today and I know she’s quite busy with errands today. Poor dear, on a Saturday too.”

Emma doesn’t have words to form, so she simply nods. Her stomach feels queasy again and dizziness floats through her. God, her hand is shaking.

Emma knows what she has to say. She knows what she has to do.

She follows the Queen through the hallways, until they approach an insignificant looking door. The queen pushes the door and it leads to a small chamber. It’s a bizarre place, with octagon walls and only two doors- one of the floor and one at the top of a tall staircase that curves around the room.

“There are only two entrances,” the Queen explains. “One from the ground floor and one from the Royal Offices, which is now the Prime Minister’s office.”

“Oh,” Emma says, looking up.

An octagonal piece of stained glass covers the ceiling, filling the chamber with colored light everywhere.

“Shall we sit?” Mary Margaret asks. “I can ring for some tea if you wish.”

“No tea,” Emma says.

She feels weird being with the Queen not at her Summer Palace, or the Southern Palace. This space that feels so loaded with sad memories.

They sit in two armchairs in the room. There isn’t much in the chamber- an ornate rug, a fireplace, and a trunk being used a table. It’s so cramped in the small space, yet so much empty air hangs between them.

“I have to tell you everything,” Emma whispers.

“Tell me what, my dear?” The queen asks.

“I have to tell you about what we did, or tried to do,” Emma says.

“Whatever do you mean?” Mary Margaret reaches for Emma’s hand.

She pulls it away. “Killian and I. We befriended you under selfish pretenses, awful pretenses. And I feel wretched about it.”

Emma feels the tears returning, sticking in her throat. “I think I’ll feel awful about it till the day I die.”

The queen frowns and nods Emma to continue.

“We both were in need of money. I needed, and still need, to fund my last semester of graduate school. Killian’s always wanted to open a bookshop. We both had these dreams that needed funding. Killian was approached by a man who wanted to offer us money for me to impersonate the Lost Princess. We were both uncomfortable with the situation and said no,” Emma pauses to sniffle, to breath, to force the words out.

The Queen mistakes that for the end of her admission. “Thanks for telling me. You did the right thing.”

Emma shakes her head. “We didn’t. The more we thought about it, the more we realized that I am very similar to how the lost Princess, your daughter, might be. I have an American accent. I have blond hair, green eyes-“ Emma looks up at the queen, at the bits of her face that mirror her own. “I have your chin. We both knew that you might believe that I am your daughter. We sought out your friendship in hopes that we might profit off it. It was selfish and greedy. We celebrated each time that you thought I might be your daughter.”

“Oh,” Mary Margaret breathes. Her face is disappointed, as she should be.

“We kind of gave up on it over time. I think I realized that my friendship with you was enough. That I didn’t need to convince you to think I am your daughter for you to treat me with that same care. But if I really knew better, I’d have told you up front about our plan. I still deceived you.”

The queen swallows and frowns.

“I’m sorry,” Emma says, burning with shame. “I’m sorry that it took me so long to tell you. I’m sorry I got mad at you for keeping secrets when I was keeping secrets of my own.”

“What makes you tell me now?” The queen says.

“Ever since Killian found out that the child, Alice, wasn’t his, I’ve been realizing something” Emma murmurs. She realizes that there are tears on her face. “That same pain that Killian was going through, it was exactly what had happened to you time and time again. You’d gotten your hopes up. You thought you’d found a family, but you just were being tricked. And I was doing that to you too.”

There is a moment of silence between them, tension waivers in the air. Emma waits for her admonishment. Or a prison sentence. Or whatever she feels she need to tell Emma.

But Emma is free now. The guilt that has clung to her grossly, sticking behind her knees, making her scratchy, is gone now. She wipes away the tears that linger the creases of her eyes. Whatever comes, she said what she needed to.

“I’m leaving in just a few weeks or so,” Emma says. “But I can leave sooner. Or if there is some other punishment, whatever it is. I’m sorry.”

The Queen’s assembles her visage, before closing her eyes and sighing.

“Emma, this isn’t your fault,” Mary Margaret tells her.

“But-” Emma starts, looking at her hands. She twists them awkwardly, too ashamed to look at the queen.

“I told you months ago. You are valuable to me. You matter to me,” The queen says. “I didn’t say that to you because I thought you were my daughter.”

Emma looks up.

“I said it because you are my friend, my mentee,” the queen said. “I do admit, I got my hopes up at first that maybe you were her. I wanted to share things I loved about her with you. I wanted you to fill her void. But that day, when Regina found us when we were riding, I realized that I cared about you Emma Swan, not Princess Emma. I connected with you. With the girls that came before you, they were fake in their interests. They weren’t lovers of literature, like you are. They didn’t care about opera or tea or intelligent conversation. You’re different, Emma. You’re authentic.”

The queen’s speech makes her feel dizzy. She doesn’t know if she should fall into her arms and together share a soulful cry, hearts joined in a combined lost-and-found reunion. Another part of Emma, the part of her that is instinctual and conditioned from a lifetime of loneliness, just wants to start running.

Before Emma’s internal conflict can come to fruition, a voice interrupts them.

“Your majesty, your highness,” A voice says from above.

Both of their heads turn to take in Prime Minister Mills walking down the stairs.

“Prime Minister,” Emma says.

“Regina,” Mary Margaret echoes.

“I thought I’d interrupt,” Regina says, midway down the staircase, “I hope you don’t mind. I heard you were looking for me, Miss Swan, and I am in fact, looking for you as well.”

Emma turns to face where Regina has curved around the room on the stairs. Her stilettos beat out a staccato against the steps.

“Oh right, sorry to bother you Prime Minister,” she mumbles. “I heard you are very busy today.”

“No, you were one of the people I needed to see today, so honestly it’s perfect timing,” Regina says, walking down the final curve. “I didn’t mean to overhear your conversation, your Majesty, but I also believe that I am about to make an entrance at the perfect time as well.”

Emma and Mary Margaret exchange confused glances.

“This week, during our usual meeting, you mentioned that Emma had forgiven you and that you’d agreed to be friends again. As you both know, I’ve been concerned about your friendship for a while. While you both protested that there was no false hope between either of you, we both know that was a lie. You’ve both just said it yourself.”

Emma wants to protest, but she knows that the Prime Minister is right. They did just say it.

“So, I went ahead and did something a little wild. I hope you forgive me, but I am, in fact, Prime Minister. I had samples of DNA taken from each of your places of residence and tested. I must admit, I was a little impatient to get to the bottom of it and find out once and for all who this woman is.”

She gives a vague wave at Emma.

“The lab tests came back this morning. Emma Swan, Your Royal Highness, you are Her Majesty’s daughter.”

The news slams into Emma. She grips a table to steady herself as the world seems to move around her.

She’s the lost princess? She’s Princess Emma?

But she can’t be. It must be a joke. A prank. It must be some sort of “get this little orphan’s hopes up and then crush them.” Because she can’t actually be the kind of person that anyone cares about this much. She’s a fake. She’s an impersonator. She’s the kind of person who has had to work her whole life to every tiny thing. She can’t be a princess.

But yet, she looks up and Queen Mary Margaret’s eyes are full of love, tears rimming her eyes.

“Yes, of course, she is,” Mary Margaret whispers.

Emma tries to think of Mary Margaret as her mother. She tries to apply the word mom to the elegant queen before her. But all she can think about is how small the room is, how oppressive the walls feel, and trapped she feels. She knows she’s not trapped. She knows that she finally has a family, which is honestly what she’s wanted her whole life. But all she wants is to run.

“Sorry,” Emma says. “I just… I have to go.”

She doesn’t turn back to look at the shock on Mary Margaret or Regina’s face. She doesn’t try to process the tears in her own eyes or the fact that this lifelong instinct of running is kicking in. All she can think is that she has to get out.

Sorry for a long long delay on this chapter! Let me know if you read it so I can figure out if I should keep going on finishing it!

#Captain Swan #cs ff #cs ff au #CS modern AU #CS fic #emma swan #killian jones #cs crew #cs mafia #i honestly don't really remember what the tags are

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daybreak-academy-fanfic · 4 years

Text

Daybreak Academy: Chapter 47

Cabin Fever Sets In Early

Summary: In which Brain makes his opinions on Anora abundantly clear. Word Count: 1,922 First | Previous | Next ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆

None of the kids looked like they wanted to be up at this unholy hour. But, for once, neither did the adults. Of the twelve of them, Ventus and Ava were still in their pajamas. Gula, Brain, Skuld and Strelitzia were dressed in clothes more suited for traveling, like sweatpants and loose t-shirts. Anora, Aced, and Ephemer made the attempt to wear actual clothes, but still looked like they had just gotten out of bed. This left only Lauriam, Ira, and Invi looking like they were ready for the day as usual. And then there was Shelby, who happily trotted beside Ava despite the risk of being stepped on.

In fact, Ira almost did step on Shelby as the Unicornis headmaster was trying to carry someone's luggage into the bus. Suffice to say, he was not amused.

“Ava,” he impatiently demanded the next time he saw her, “You have to put that thing in a cage before we leave.”

“But Shelby's fine.” she pouted. Ira rubbed his temple in frustration. It was way too early to be having arguments like this, let alone when he was the one set to drive.

“He hissed at Aced earlier.” he informed her, bitterly, in an attempt to get her to see his way. It didn't work in the slightest.

“So?” the Vulpes headmaster immediately questioned. “I'd hiss at Aced too if he was being rude to me!”

“He started it!” Aced shouted from somewhere behind the bus. “Stupid thing was trying to trip me!”

To further prove the point, Shelby -who was casually standing by Ava's ankles until then- hissed at the remark. Ira didn't even bother hiding his unnerved eye roll while Ava gave a bemused giggle.

“Can't believe I ever dated that...” Ira grumbled under his breath, but stopped himself from finishing. Instead, he then started to shout, loud enough to be heard from the dorms; “Alright! Everyone on the bus! We're losing daylight now!”

There was a small chorus of groans from the kids, too exhausted to be truly responsive to anything yet that morning. But they all started to make their way onto the bus regardless. Anora was second in line, and she sheepishly shuffled her way to one of the middle rows. Behind her, Ventus was quick to find a spot near the front.

“Hey Ven,” Ephemer mused as he passed the younger boy, “You have a brother, don't you? Why didn't you ask him to come along on the trip?”

For a moment, the youngest of the group looked like Ephemer had verbally assaulted him.

“Vanitas doesn't… like other people. Very much.” he quietly said, trying to avoid Ephemer's gaze.

“Ah, maybe next time!” the older boy smiled. Ven still didn't look at him. Giving a small shrug to the younger's reluctance, Ephemer moved on back to where Anora was sitting.

“Mind if I sit with you?” he asked. Anora looked up at him, raised a suspicious eyebrow, but nodded in agreement. Ephemer sure was more relaxed this morning than he had been for the past few weeks.

“Speaking of bringing along guests,” Gula mused from the back row, directing his attention to Aced, who was sitting two rows in front of him, “Why didn't you invite Ms. April, Aced?”

The Ursus headmaster immediately flinched before turning his body around to face Gula. “W-why would I do that?” he stuttered.

“Oh, I don't know.” the cheeky headmaster mused. “You two had gotten pretty close recently, so I was curious.”

Aced looked Gula over with a critical eye- trying to figure out what game the youngest headmaster was playing at. “If you must know, April and Anastasia are going to visit April's parents.” Aced then told him in a very certain tone.

“And you didn't join them?”

“W-well I did ask, if she wanted me to join them.” Aced stammered. “But, but she insisted that it was still too early in our relationship for me to meet her parents.”

“Oh really? How interesting...”

“How is that interesting?!”

“Oh, never mind...” Gula teasingly hummed as he got himself more comfortable. If it was meant to comfort Aced, it sure as fire didn't work.

“Are we all here?” Ira then questioned, making use of the bus's intercom system. It was Invi who did the head count and gave him a nod.

“Looks like it.” she agreed.

“Then let's get this show on the road.” Ira decided, turning on the bus's engine and smoothly guiding it out of Daybreak Drive.

Ventus had gone back to sleep the moment the bus started moving. He laid out on the bus's bench seat with a pillow at his head and his jacket as a makeshift blanket. His soft snoring could be heard if you got close enough, but no one wanted to disturb him. He was soon followed by Strelitzia, who had propped a pillow against the cold window, drifting off to sleep with the motion of the bus. Lauriam happened to look over at his sister and smiled. He then went through their suitcases to find a blanket for her. As Lauriam placed the blanket over his sister, she shifted a bit but did not stir, causing him to grin even more. He made himself a bit more comfortable before also going to sleep.

Skuld and Brain had decided to sit next to each other, both making idle chit-chat over the notes and questions they had at the last Dandelion meeting. Ephemer had pulled out one of his textbooks, Anora was curious enough to read over his shoulder, to which he did not stop her. Ava was lightly fussing over Shelby as she tried to keep the turtle on the bus's bench seat when all he wanted to do was explore. Invi looked like she had gone back to sleep, with her back against the bus window and her eyes closed, but she would occasionally mumble something to herself -something that sounded a lot like names of the teachers still at Daybreak during the summer- that made it clear that she was still trying to keep mental track of school security.

But it was still way too early in the morning to be awake. Anora gave up the battle eleven minutes after the bus left school grounds. She let out a long yawn as she laid her head down on Ephemer's shoulder. The girl was asleep before she even realized what she had done. Ephemer was quick to realize it, though, and did nothing to move her. Instead, he moved a bit to make it a bit easier for her before he laid his head on top of hers. A calm smile crossed his lips as he continued to read through his textbook. There was nothing more in this world that made you forget your worries than a long bus ride, and someone who made you feel happy resting on your shoulder.

. . .

Anora did not sleep for very long- waking up just an hour after she had gone to sleep. There was much more light outside than what there had been when they had first started. Ira was still driving the bus, and as she looked around, she found that only Brain and Invi were still awake. Brain looked to be playing some card game by himself and Invi had her back to the bus window, with one leg crossed on the bench and the other dangling off, while reading a rather steamy looking novella. Skuld had moved places, though, sitting in the bench behind Brain with her legs pulled up to her as she leaned her side onto the back of the bus bench.

Gula had moved places too, taking the spot next to Ava. He had gone to sleep with his head in Ava's lap. Ava herself was also asleep now, her head resting against the bus's window. Her fingers were intertwined in Gula's hair, as if she had been gently stroking him before drifting off. Shelby, much to the turtle's annoyance, had been placed in his cage.

“Anora.” Brain's voice suddenly spoke up, surprising the girl for a moment. She looked up to see him standing in the aisle, a set of playing cards in his hands.

“Wanna play War with me?” Brain asked, playfully shuffling the cards. “Promise to go easy on you.”

There wasn't much thought put into it when she nodded her head. What else did they have to do? So Anora carefully started to get up, made sure not to wake Ephemer in doing do, before going over to the bus bench that Brain had been sitting in earlier.

“It's really simple- my grandfather taught it to me when I was three.” Brain then went on. “Aces are high and the suits don't matter. We both pick a card from our stack, whoever has the highest card takes both. If we happen to draw the same card, then we pick out three cards at random, flip them over, and whoever has the highest total numerical count wins all eight cards. Still with me so far?”

Anora nodded, watching with a still groggy interest as Brain gave her ten cards to start with. The two played their game in relative silence after. Anora couldn't tell who was winning, her brain too sluggish from waking to even really care too know, but at some point she did start to notice that Brain kept staring at her. After they had been playing for ten minutes, she had to stop.

“Hmm? What's wrong?” the older boy casually questioned. “You were winning.”

Anora shook her head. Her face scrunched into an expression of conflict before quietly telling him, “You're staring at me.”

Brain raised an eyebrow. “Was I?” He then gave a callous raise and lower of his shoulder before saying, “Really didn't meant to, honestly. You're very… different. But at the same time, you don't stand out in the slightest. You're almost a walking contradiction.”

At this, Anora raised an eyebrow of confusion. Brain felt the need to explain himself further.

“Everyone here is either a headmaster or a Dandelion. Or related to one, in the case of Lauriam's sister. But you? You're no one. You shouldn't be here.”

A cold chill ran down Anora's spine. Brain looked up at her and took note of her paling expression. He leaned in close to Anora- his face held such a dark expression that Anora felt goosebumps growing on her arms.

“So, whose pants are you trying to get into?” he asked her. His voice was low and dark, while also not trying to raise suspicion from Ira or Invi. “Mine, Ephemer's, or Lauriam's? And if it's Ven's, then I'm sorry to say that I think the back exit on this bus is not locked properly. You should go check.”

Anora gaped at him in shock. He studied her, as if sizing Anora up, before coming to a certain conclusion.

“You are fascinating.” he decided in an expressionless tone. He sat up a bit straighter, bringing his focus back to the game. “So, is it my turn now, or yours? I lost track.”

Anora only looked at him. She eventually said, “Yours, I think.” before Brain gave a small nod and continued on like nothing had happened. But Anora had been put on edge. What on earth gave Brain that idea? Anora shuddered as a small breeze came in through the bus window; she didn't know, and she didn't want to know.

Too bad their summer only got weirder from there.

#daybreak academy #chapter 47 #kingdom hearts fanfiction #Ira #Ava #Ventus #Ephemer #Anora #Brain #Summer 2020 #Season 1

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fairiesherefairiesthere · 4 years

Text

There’s a light at the end of a hall (Fraxus)

It’s a soulmate au where you share dreams! (I listened to In my dreams from Anastasia on repeat while writing this).

When Laxus opens his eyes, he knows where he is, although the room is so dark he can't look more than a foot in front of him. Long windows let some moonlight filter into the room and it catches some elements of the scene in the beam, revealing some glasses, the familiar lacquer of a piano and a chandelier. It's quiet too, not a whisper leaves the mouths of the people he knows are surrounding him. Gentlemen haven't ditched their canes to dance with their partner of choice yet. The dresses are still in pristine state, not a ruffle out of place. If he moved, he could probably touch one of the statue-like people, but he fears that they feel lifeless too. He's glad that the darkness hides them from his sight. The most important asset of this particular scene isn't here yet, so with baited breath, the room awaits him.

The familiar clicking of shoes on the tiles alerts Laxus of the other man's entrance and his arrival, breathes life into the room. As though the moonlight lit their wicks, the candles on the chandelier flicker to life and with them, the guests start to move, casting their shadows over the walls and the dancefloor. The still significantly bad lighting, combined with the masks and clothing that covers a lot of skin, makes it incredibly hard to assign distinct features to the humanlike figures moving across the ballroom.

Once in a while one of them laughs or dip another mid-dance, but their movements are too precise, too practiced to convince Laxus that any of them are real human beings. Furthermore, the room is now filled with chatter, but Laxus can't make out a single word. The more he tries, the less intellegible the conversations get, though this place tries to convince him that they are speaking his language and that he's the odd one for not knowing what's being said.

Haunting is the only term that comes to describing the high, trembling notes that the violins bring forth and Laxus wonders if they are trying to drown out some other sound he's not supposed to hear. Whenever he strains to listen past them, they seem to infiltrate his brain, screeching for him to turn elsewhere.

When a masked man stops in front of him, he turns to him. Unlike everything else in this room, his figure is clear as day and when he offers Laxus a calloused hand in a rather elegant manner, he doesn't hesitate to take it. Amidst all the cold, doll-like creations pretending to be human, the warm hand feels like a lifeline, so Laxus clutches to it with all his might.

While following the man in front of him, he lets his gaze travel over his back. Strong shoulders and a head with long green strands of hair. Should he turn around, those locks would frame his elegant facial features in the most refined of manners, granting him a presence alike to a nobleman. As though hearing his thoughts, the man turns around and bestows a little smile upon him before turning around again. The tiny interaction puts Laxus more at ease. He might be among ghosts, but at the very least he's not alone.

In a quiet corner of the grand ballroom, the man lets go of his hand before offering his own again. This time, there's another question behind it and uptill now, Laxus has always rejected. But tonight, he won't. Maybe it's because the music creeps so deep into his soul that he fears that nothing but human contact might erase it, maybe it's because tonight, the other man's features are clearer than ever and his bright blue eyes so hypnotising that Laxus wouldn't be able to deny him a thing.

He still hesitates though and he hates how his own hand twitches and trembles with nerves. In the other's eyes, he can see that he too knows exactly how nervous Laxus is about this, but mercifully, he doesn't say a thing about it. Laxus wonders if they would be able to speak in here or would their words simply vanish into thin air. Once Laxus' hand is properly resting on the other's, the other man tenderly runs his thumb over Laxus' fingers before using their joined hands to tug him close.

Not once in his life has he been a fan of dancing, but here, in this quiet corner with the other man leading him, he feels at peace. The atmosphere around them doesn't change, the puppets don't become beings of flesh and blood and the sounds brought forth by the violins doesn't change into a lilting melody. But the man in front of him radiates with a gentle, undisturbed light that draws him in, a mystery composed of sweet allure that Laxus doesn't even try to turn away from.

For all the times Laxus has danced in his life (very close to zero), he thinks he's doing pretty well. While he's keeping his eyes trained towards the floor to make sure he doesn't step on his partner's toes, the man reaches out and after letting his fingers drag over Laxus' jawline, he tilts his chin up to let their gazes meet. The eyecontact is exhilarating and after a while, they establish a pretty stable pattern of steps, turns and twists.

The man guides him into another whirl that separates the two of them for the briefest of times. Because they've done it a few times already, Laxus knows that he should finish the turn and rejoin the man by taking hold of his outstretched hand. Right before their fingertips touch, the other man drops his arm and hugs it close to his chest, looking at Laxus with wide, dazed eyes. Offering his own hand, Laxus hopes the man will take it. He does not.

Instead, he turns on his heels, making his way towards the exit. Although Laxus follows him almost immediately at the exact same pace or even faster, he can't seem to keep up with the other man's strides. As though they sensed something going on, the heads of all the mannequins snap into their direction, tilting their head at an annatural angle, to perpetuate the illusion of a curiousity they are not able to feel.

As the man throws the door open and Laxus is able to see the light at the end of a hall, the mannequins turn to him, enclosing him. Even when they're so close he can feel their cold mockeries of breaths running along his neck, he still can't make out their faces. A thing he can make out though, are the words they are whispering. "Do you enjoy dreaming?" they whisper as though rotten creatures of the night could ever be compared to a dream.

Usually he's the first one to leave the ballroom. He wonders if the other man had to deal with these creatures too, all those times he'd decided to ditch the party. He also wonders why on earth the other man would leave him to the wolves if he knew they would tear him apart.

Looking past the mannequins, he notices shadows travelling down the walls, enshrouding the room in pitchblack once more. Either these beings would get him or he'd get swallowed by the dark. Any other day, he would've laid waste to these dollike humanoids, but his fingers have no grip on them and magic dissipates into thin air. Resigned, he closes his eyes.

The colours dancing behind his closed eyelids alert him that there's a new source of light. Opening them, he sees the door being forced open and light streaming in. Without thinking, he grabs the outstretched hand and slams the door shut behind him. Once again, he follows the greenhaired man's lead, but instead of dancing, they're running for their dear life. Taking matters into his own hands, Laxus smashes a window and pulls the other man through. Finally, they leave the castle and underneath the glimmering of the stars, they both let out a breath they didn't know they had been holding.

"I didn't know soulmate dreams could be that terrifying", Laxus sighs and is surprised when he notices that he's allowed to talk. Immediately he takes the next leap and tries to tell the other his name. Unsurprisingly, it all comes jumbled and he accepts that that's one of the things he's not allowed to share.

"I knew", his partner shares with a pleasantly deep voice. Biting his lower lip and with his back hunched, he stares at his feet as though they are the most interesting thing around. "It's been like that since I got to know who you are in the realm outside this one. They try to persuade me to reveal my own identity and since I refuse to, they rip me apart in my dreams as doubt and conflicted feelings do throughout the day. It's a joyful experience, really and it follows me everywhere."

Although Laxus doesn't want to be insensitive by glossing over his story, there's also a thing he wants to know. "Then why did they aim for me right now?" His partner clicks tongue and looks at Laxus in a both very particular and familiar way. "You know why, you're a smart man, Laxus Dreyar", he chides and offers his hand. One that Laxus has pushed away before, thanks to his own cowardice and other people distracting him by being bothersome.

"Freed", he exhales and the man smiles sharply and tugs the strings of his mask loose. "Thank the heavens, this thing was getting bothersome. Now we can both wake up, stay friends and not speak with a soul about this awkward situation. I'm alright with being only friends."

"But it's not what you want", Laxus objects and Freed scoffs. "I'm not about to force you to do something you don't want to satisfy my own wants. I'm not a creep." After spitting out that last sentence, Freed gnaws on his bottom lip again, fists balled. Laxus wonders if Freed's heard the same whispers he himself had heard too (he should leave Laxus alone, he's too touchy, overly affectionate, he's bothersome. It had taken a lot of willpower to not go for the immediate kill and settling for decking them across the guildhall).

Somewhere along the line, these throwaway comments (combined with Laxus' incompetency with putting feelings into words) had chipped away at this man's pride and selfconfidence. Left bleeding by these chipped away shards, he'd decided to staunch the wounds by slapping a bandage on top of them and declaring them healed, while the blood still slipped from underneath it.

"It's not what I want either", he confesses and he continues before Freed's scepticism makes him leave. "For a long time now, I've put more attention to you than anyone else, but never where you actually wanted or needed it. I thought that if I allowed you closer to me, it would be pretty clear what my feelings towards you were without me having to say it. But that's selfish of me, isn't it? It's also damned stupid."

Freed's already wide eyes get even wider when Laxus offers him his handpalm, urging Freed to rest his hand there. While Freed does that, hand trembling with an out of character discomposure, Laxus doesn't move and provides him with a tender smile that seems to ease his nerves. Once Freed's hand is properly resting on top of his, Laxus tugs him closer, hand on the small of his back. Right atop his guildmark, Laxus presses a kiss and gets awarded with an exhale. "I love you", he confesses, directing his gaze to meet Freed's.

Those blue eyes are wide with shock and Laxus wonders if there's ever going to be a time where saying that will not be met with surprise. He decides to make a goal out of it. "Okay", Freed simply says and denies Laxus an outright answer. He doesn't really need one though, because he knows how the other man feels.

"I'm not about to say it for the first time in a simple dream of all places. I'd like to tell you in person, if you'd be willing to listen."

"I'd be just as willing to listen as I'd be to answer 'I love you too'. "

"My, aren't you quite the romantic?" A selfsatisfied grin suits Freed a thousand times better than doubt. Around them, the dream crumbles, but it's not torn apart by faceless creatures or drowned in black. The stars dissolve into a shower of light that engulfs the both of them. "Looks like we'll be going home", Freed remarks staring at the magnificent light before turning to Laxus. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, he whispers : "Good night and within a few more moments, good morning. I'll be looking forward to seeing you."

#fraxus #Freed Justine #Laxus Dreyar #freedxlaxus #fanfic #fairy tail #TheFairyWrites

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dear-vista · 5 years

Text

her shadow [t.h.]

[ prince!tom x reader ]

summary: when the princess of france is arraigned to marry the prince of england to help the financial front, zendaya and her sister come to stay at the castle. you make an odd first impression with the royal family, causing the prince to take a certain interest in you. with a heart of gold, you put up with being in your sister’s shadow. but with newfound interest in the prince, how far can you take your curiosities?

word count: 2.8k

warnings: none ( maybe a swear word? )

author’s note: imma be real homies, this was a trek. i worked on this chapter for a long time and i changed it a lot and it took a while for me to be comfortable with it, and i also dealt with some major writer's block. in my personal, i moved to a new city and it's been really hard for me. my mental health hasn't been and still isn't the greatest, but maybe this can be my crutch. i know you guys waited for this and let me just say, a BIG FUCKIN THANK YOU. Y'all were supportive and patient and it's really wonderful to have that in times like this :) but we hit over 100 followers and i never thought i would do that. so again, thank you. and i promise i'll try not to make the next update two months from now. anyway, enjoy chapter three :) also, if i forgot to add you to the tag list or you would like to be added, either comment or send an ask :)

part 1 part 2 part 3

For the next hour of your time, Anastasia had you sat in a bathtub as she desperately tried to scrub the scent of liquor and what could only be called ‘desperation’ off your skin. Sure, your arms and legs looked like cherry tomatoes that had grown in awkward ways, but thank the gods it was normal to wear long sleeves. Anastasia humored you, asking about your time in the city, asking what the pub was like, what the people were like. When asked if she had even left the castle gates, she got quiet and it made your heart ache.

She pulled you from the tub, drying you off as you shivered from the water that had all but turned to ice. You pulled on your undergarments yourself, hating even entertaining the idea of anyone dressing her. You had two hands and thought yourself perfectly capable of pulling fabric on. Anastasia busied herself with looking through your dresses until a knock rang through the room. The copper-haired maid scuttled to open the door but was immediately pushed back by the person you wanted to see probably the least.

“You’re insufferable. Insisting on going into town and drinking your heart out. We’re not in France where you can spend your life as a peasant. We are guests of the King and Queen and you will act as such.” Zendaya scolded you as you sat back, eye looking bored. All she could do was glare at you and you truly questioned if the corset around her waist was so tight that it could cause mental defects. The thought made you snicker, causing the princess to huff.

“You will not embarrass me tonight, our first meal with the King, the entire family. So I went and picked out a dress for you.” What she held up made you want to vomit. A sickly colour that looked like a mix of green and purple with bright white lacing up the front. “You will wear this and you will not speak tonight unless spoken to. Your spot will be next to the twins. Maybe, if you clean up your act, you can pick a Holland of your own.” She smirked.

The way she spoke of the family like objects put you in perspective once again. You were not in the friendly village you called home, not in the city that welcomed you with laughter and drinks. You were in the London palace, surrounded by cold royalty who thought everyone who wasn’t them, wasn’t worth the air they breathed.

“Maybe I don’t want a ‘Holland of my own’” You quoted, “Maybe I think of them as people and would also like to marry as far away from you as possible.” You sneered. She couldn’t help but smirk, because she just loved to get under your skin. You guessed you could blame your mother, though this was something so purely aggravating that just she possessed. With that all being said, she turned on her heel and walked out of the room.

You stood for a second, trying to mask your heaving chest from the immense anger you felt as you played with the small necklace that sat around your neck. It was a circle, representing the moon that a blacksmith had given you after showing you the countryside just outside of France. You clicked your tongue as you pushed yourself off the chair you had been leaning on, going over to the closet where all your clothing was hanging.

Fabric began to fly as you dug through the clothes, of course, there was quite a bit. But you knew what you were looking for. The moment your hand brushed against it, you pulled it from the closet. A smile formed on your features as you turned towards Ana.

“The people here do talk, don’t they?”

When it was time for the dinner, there was a guard at your door. And lucky for you, you had met this one before. Ana had just finished your make-up as Harrison knocked on your door. She hurried over as you stood, dusting off your dress as you looked in a mirror. A whistle was heard behind you as you turned with a raised brow.

“Well, well, well (Y/N). Looks as if you clean up quite nicely.” He teased as you walked over to him and took his extended arm. You scoffed as you waved goodbye to Ana. “Please, do tell me your secret to sobriety.” He said in a joking manner.

“An hour in an ice bath would wake anyone up.” You admitted as you walked through the halls. You could hear small bits of chatter, soft music as you raised a brow. They had a band just for a simple dinner? Though, you guessed it wouldn’t be considered ‘just a dinner’. The coming of the Princess who was to marry the heir to the throne, the uniting of the kingdoms, that could be a cause for some kind of celebration. It was as if Harrison could feel your hesitance, quickly offering you a soft smile, patting your arm.

“You took on the pubs of London. Some small dinner should be no cause for concern.” He encouraged you, making a breathless laugh leave your lips.

“The streets of London and France are one thing. If I get in trouble, throwing a punch is on the table. But in a dinner with one of the strongest monarchies in Europe, I don’t think that’s necessarily acceptable.” You chuckled along, drawing ever closer to the source of your fear. At the door, Harrison stopped you. He turned you towards him, hands resting on each shoulder lightly.

“Now (Y/N), do excuse my speaking outright but they are nothing to fear. Just sit there with a fake smile like the rest, and don’t speak unless you’re spoken to if you’re truly that frightened. But as your friend, yes I consider you a friend by now, I encourage you to just try and enjoy yourself. Tom will be there, look to him for guidance if need be. You’re going to do great.” He flashed a smile as you took a breath, nodding and dusting your dress off.

“Into the pit then.”

You entered fairly unnoticed. You could feel a few pairs of eyes on you as Harrison walked you in, linked by the arms to your seat. You were sat in the middle of your sister and one of the twins. At both heads sat the King and Queen. Zendaya to her right, Tom to her left. Next to Tom was the youngest Holland, playing with his food. The other twin, Harry or Sam you couldn’t be sure, sat across from the other. In all honesty, you weren’t really paying enough attention to be able to decipher them apart.

You could feel Zendaya’s gaze as you sat in the deep emerald green dress that adorned your form, along with what you could only assume was Tom’s eyes locked onto you. You smiled as you sat, mouthing a ‘thank you’ to Harrison subtly before looking across the table to Tom, who offered you a grin. Zendaya grabbed your arm with tight lips and you could feel her sneer without even having to look at her.

“I told you to wear the grey dress. Where did you even get this?” She hissed, pulling at the silk fabric as you swatted her hand away. With the small burst of confidence that Harrison gave you from his pep talk, you grinned at your dear sister.

“To be honest with you Z,” Your voice was filled with the type of spite that you only harbored when you were sure you had an upper hand, something you seemed to be very unsure of at that moment. “I really don’t give a damn what you told me to do. Because you may be my big sister, but that doesn’t make you any less of a pain in my ass.” You said with a smile as you looked back up across the table, hearing one of the twins snicker from beside you.

“Zendaya, you look wonderful tonight.” The queen chimed before your sister could get a word in edgewise. “Tom,” the older woman purred to her eldest, gesturing to her, “doesn’t she look stunning?” She asked with the intent of helping her son, only to make his smile falter.

“Of course.” He chimed with an uncomfortable look in his eye. “Though, I’ve never really been a fan of yellow.” He said, making you want to howl with laughter from the look of pure and utter horror that tried to escape Zendaya’s face. “But (Y/N), the green looks wonderful.” You were practically wheezing.

The dinner went through smoothly after that. You were actually mildly enjoying yourself. You decided that maybe, just maybe, you should steer away from any kind of alcohol for the night, sticking with water throughout the meal. You could hear the twins snickering from across the table to each other, Tom playing with Paddy, earning the occasional scowl or scolding from their mother. Dom and Nikki conversed with Zendaya, occasionally including you in a question or two. It was a bit of a change but you didn’t really mind it. Though, you were sure this is one of the first dinners with any kind of royalty where you actually felt anything at all besides pure exasperation.

“(Y/N)” You felt a nudge from beside you, catching your attention and making you turn to the twins. You couldn’t help but raise a brow at the look of mischief on their faces. Maybe it wasn’t so much externally, but you knew that glint in their eyes from a mile away. After all, you were usually the one who held it. You watched for a moment as the two exchanged a glance, a silent thought shared as if it was telepathically.

“We want to go beyond the wall.” The twin closest to you said, who throughout the night you figured out was Harry, Sam nodding after he said it. The hall was noisy enough that you hoped no one could hear your conversation. Of course, they would come to you because of course, they knew. Your little outing had only gone over the head of the king and queen. And for as long as you were a resident of their home, you’d like to keep it that way.

“What do you mean you want to go ‘beyond the wall’? Why are you telling me? You’ve got full power over yourselves, can’t you just go?” You asked with furrowed brows. At home, being the younger sister of the heir didn’t mean much. You were just another person with some nobility. No one cared when you came and went, hell, you were once gone for two weeks and when you returned, your mother gave you no more than a nod. You couldn’t see what the big deal about leaving the gates was. But your confusion just increased as the twins shook their heads.

“We don’t really leave the castle unless its for some war preparation that our father has planned. We don’t greet the public, we don’t go into the city. Mother says it’s wrong for royalty to be in those kinds of conditions.” Another thing you could add to the growing list of things you disliked about the king and the queen. They were your sister’s type of royalty, your father’s type of royalty. But even then, Zendaya and your father made appearances in the lower city, to show they ‘cared’ about their citizens.

“Well I don’t know what you want me to do about it.” You said, mind already knowing where they wanted to go with their statement, mentally forbidding yourself from accepting. It was bad enough that you had your sister on your tail the entire time, but the last thing you needed was to be on the foul side of the King and Queen of England. Especially staying at their home, it was really not preferable.

“We want you to take us-”

“No.” You wouldn’t even let Sam, the one sitting across from the two of you, finish his sentence. “Absolutely not. If you’re not allowed out then there’s no way in the seven circles of hell that I would even attempt to get you out. Ask one of the guards or the golden child. But you won’t be coming out with me.” You didn’t need their lives in your hand just to have your head on a plate. It wasn’t worth it.

“But you can get out! You just left with one of the guards!” Harry complained, his voice was in a whining tone, making you roll your eyes.

“Yes, I can get out. Because everyone here is so invested in the fact that my sister is here that they’re going to look right over my head. But that’s because I’m not one of England’s star princes or one of France’s prize citizens. At home, I come and go as I please. I’m sure they expected no different from me here. I don’t believe it would be in my favor that, after I arrived, the twin princes decided it would be a good idea to go off an explore.” You said with a huff. “Now, if you excuse me.” You said as you slowly motioned over to Harrison. Frankly, you had been done eating for a good amount of time, and no longer wished to socialize.

Harrison walked over to you without making eye contact with any of the other royals, bending down to whisper to you, you could feel the smirk that crawled over his lips.

“Now what’s got your feathers in a ruse, princess?” He asked as he extended his arm, helping you raise from your seat. You felt a gaze on your back, and with a look over your shoulder, you spotted Tom. He was smiling, and it wasn’t overly obvious that he was staring at you. Just enough so you could tell. It caused you to offer a small smile of your own before you walked out of the dining hall on Harrison’s arm.

“Just the twins. I’m not really sure if they know my name, but they know I can leave the castle and they want me to get them out.” You sighed once you were out of earshot. The day had been long, and yet strangely you weren’t tired, at all.

“It’s just like them, they’ve been asking me for months now.” You laughed slightly, shaking your head. You would want to escape too if you were them. Being trapped in confined spaces, though under normal circumstances you would never call the walls of this grand castle confined, next to the Kind and Queen had to be painful.

“Harrison, what do you after nightfall? I mean, when there’s no training or guarding to do, what do you do?” You asked curiously, looking up to the blonde. He looked back down at you with a raised brow, already knowing where you were going. And disliking it.

“I go into the guards quarters, and we have a few drinks, we play a few games. Even the kind’s men get a bit of time off. Especially now that you and your sister are here. The king isn’t planning any wars or requiring any kind of extra training so, we actually get some time off to do what we want to do.” Harrison said, actually sounding happy about the fact. Sure, you had only known him for a day, but you could only guess that the serving class around here wasn’t treated the greatest.

“Take me with you. Please.” You asked, in your own way, with hopeful eyes. Harrison’s own blue ones looked down at you with some kind of mix of concern and nervousness. Before he could say anything, you spoke up again. “Please. It would save me temporarily from Zendaya’s wrath. You have no idea what something like wearing the wrong dress entails.” You said with a small chuckle, hoping to persuade him.

“I don't know (Y/N). The boys are kind of tough people to get used to.” He tried to sway you, and you gave him a blank look.

“Harrison, for a good chunk of the day I was in a pud. And there were several fights and I still got myself home unscathed. Sir, I think I can handle myself quite well.” You reasoned, a slight smirk on your lips as Harrison paused. He had to admit, he saw your point. He stayed silent for a few more seconds before sighing.

“Fine. Go change. It would be a shame for this dress to smell like liquor.” He said, causing you to smile brightly. Yes, this would be a good night.

tags: @greenarrowhead @voidtrixie @racewife2004 @technolilly @andreuskystuff @jadav5 @aelin-firehearts-court @spideybitey18 @choke-me-sweet-pea @loxbbg @thebadassbitchqueen @notes-from-my-journal @jubaydahk @carolyns14 @supernatural-strangerthings-1980 @heimdoodle @httpmcrvel @deranged-sewer-rat @justanotherfangirl2015 @shortbty14

#tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #prince!tom au #prince!tom #princessdiariesau #royal!au #royal!tom #tom holland series #tom holland x reader smut #tom holland x reader fluff #tom holland x reader angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #marvel #her shadow #trying my best #THANK YOU!!!#like and heart!

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the-everlasting-dream · 5 years

Note

I missed you kisses for Harper x MC

This one ran away from me @bobasheebaby like all my fics seem to be doing lol, I hope you don’t mind.

“I missed you” kisses: Long and relentless, holding their body close, arms wrapped completely around their waist. A burying their head in B’s neck and pressing kisses there too.

Luke Harper was on edge, a feeling he hadn’t experienced in a long time, at least since the war. This was a different type of edge he decided as he cast what must have been the hundredth glance at the cobblestoned driveway of Edgewater Manor. Anyone who was looking carefully enough would have been able to tell that he was a man anxiously awaiting something. In Mr Harper’s case, it was a certain someone.

He mustn’t have been as subtle as he would have liked as the ever wily yet kind Mr Woods sidled up to him, eyeing his tense posture in mild amusement.

‘I have it on good authority that the carriage should be arriving in a half hour,’ he piped up, clapping a reassuring hand on his companion’s back. ‘That news came well over twenty minutes ago, Her Ladyship should be expected anytime now.’

Harper nodded once in thanks, his friend’s words although meant to console him only heightened his anticipation. He immediately chastised himself for being so transparent about his affections and resolved to curb any future displays that would allude that his association with the Lady of Edgewater extended further than employer and employee. Closed doors and empty rooms were much more forgiving of the desire of his heart. He had only to look at the colour of his skin to be reminded that his affair with Lady Anastasia was more than illicit and should they be discovered by a stray prying eye, both of them would be at the mercy of the entire gentry and social system. Harper did not care for himself, the consequences of detection would be harsh but his fear was only for her.

The whinnying of a horse shook him out of his grim musing and he joined the gathering of staff as they assembled outside the house for the arrival of the Earl of Edgewater and his wife. Edward Chambers descended from the carriage and offered a hand to his wife to assist her and when she emerged, Mr Harper seemed to lose the ability to breathe for a moment. A month in London for the social season had seen her garbed in the finest of dresses that money could buy but it was the smile on her face, the clear unbridled joy of being away from the dirty city streets and crowded roads that rendered him speechless. Her attention though being engaged by her Lady Grandmother and house keeper, flitted for a brief moment to his and Harper felt a thrill of electricity rippling through him.

Anastasia once told him that her middle name Damini had meant lightening in Hindi and he did not doubt that for a second for it was a mere wonder how the simplest gesture had such a profound ability to light him on fire from the inside out. However just as quickly their moment was over and she was ushered inside the house. Harper held that look close to his heart, a silent promise that they would get their time together later.

Harper was a patient man but a month of longing and anticipation, his desire for her, seemed to burn to hotly to bear. He wanted nothing more than to gather her up in his arms and Just as he was finishing up his Horse Master’s duties, his senses alerted him that he was not alone.

‘Luke.’ Her voice was as clear as a bell, ringing out from behind him soft and gentle as the breeze. The action of turning around and approaching her went completely unchecked in his brain, to his consciousness it seemed that one moment he was hanging the last of the bridles up in the tack room and the next he had crossed the stable floor to gather her up in his arms.

‘Anastasia,’ he breathed, taking her in for the first time in a month, hands resting softly on her waist, mesmerised by the way the moonlight seemed to reflect in her big expressive eyes. Eyes that confirmed that she was every bit as enamoured with him as he was with her and confessed that she’d felt each feeling longing and desire just as intensely as he did.

Unable to resist the temptation any longer, he leaned down and captured her lips in a soft gentle kiss, hesitant at first but quickly growing in passion. It made his heart soar when she responded with as much tenacity, her small hands coming to wrap themselves around his waist, splaying across his back with a single message: I’m here with you.

In that kiss, Luke delivered a confession of his own, that a month had been far too long to bear being apart from her, that during the cold and crafty nights in his cottage after a hard fruitless days work thoughts of her were all that would keep him going. When the requirement for air could be ignored no longer, he gently disconnected her lips from hers and rested his forehead on hers.

‘I missed you.’ His voice was barely above a whisper for it didn’t need to be any louder for her to understand that his meaning stretched to far more than what trivial vocabulary could encompass. Anastasia nodded once, tilting her face up to his and Luke did not need any further encouragement before pressing his lips to her again, feeling bolder and more passionate this time, drawing her slim form in closer, needing to feel her body close to his as his arms wrapped completely around her waist. She gasped at the intensity of the action and he smiled, taking his time this time to make his way down the side of her neck, burying his face and his professions of love against her soft hair that had quickly come undone from its elegant bun.

‘My Luke,’ she hummed, a hand coming up to caress his face and in that moment, despite everything their world stipulated about their love, Luke Harper could not imagine himself happier.

Permatags if you’re interested: @chantelle-x0x , @choicessa, @meeraaverywalker , @drakewalkerwhipped , @quartzandarrow , @mfackenthal , @srawesleyghuewrites , @topsyturvy-dream , @enmchoices , @gardeningourmet @debramcg1106 , @alesana45 , @meladoridarcy, @blackcatkita , @tmarie82 , @annekebbphotography , @lizk77 , @jayjay879 , @tornbetween2loves , @akrenich , @theroyalweisme , @likethetailofacomet , @sleepwalkingelite , @littleblossom-18 , @ooo-barff-ooo

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rose-of-pollux · 5 years

Text

Anastasia (musical-verse) ficlit.

Title: He Does What’s Necessary Rating: PG (for action/danger) Summary: Alternate ending to “Still/The Neva Flows Reprise” in which Dmitry returns for a proper farewell--only to see Gleb threatening Anya. Notes: This was written after I realized just how much I wanted a confrontation between Dmitry and Gleb.

I’m not crossposting this just yet--waiting for some feedback on how it is; first time writing for this fandom, so feedback would be appreciated!

Dmitry’s plan had, originally, been to leave without any goodbyes or fanfare—it would be the most painless way, he decided, for he knew that if he tried to go back, to say goodbye to her… He might not end up going through with it.

And he had to go through with it—she was where she belonged now. And as for him, well… He would continue living his life as a clever Russian rat. He could grift his way through France and the rest of Europe, if he so desired.

But it was after he had left that he relented—realizing that he owed her a goodbye, as painful as it would be. And, anyway, he would be able to make sure that she was happy—it would be worth seeing that.

And so, he made his way back, sneaking past guards to try to find her. He passed Vlad addressing a roomful of reporters—Vlad had certainly found himself exactly where he wanted to be, and Dmitry couldn’t help but feel happy for his old friend. Maybe someday, he would find that happiness, too…

He pulled himself out of his wistful dreaming and got back on track; Anya had to be around here somewhere… Ah, there, behind those glass doors!

Dmitry hurried over, and then stopped cold; she wasn’t alone in that room. A man was there; Dmitry recognized him as that Bolshevik officer—Gleb was his name, wasn’t it? How had he managed to track them down in Paris!? But Dmitry was less concerned with who he was or how he had got here, and more concerned with the fact that he had a gun drawn on Anya, who was staring back at him, defiantly.

Dmitry had no weapon; all he had were his wits and the element of surprise—but those were two things that had gotten him this far.

He aimed a kick at the locked door, forcing it open; as he hoped, Gleb turned his attention to him, and Anya gasped.

And then everything happened all at once.

Dmitry had expected Gleb would be trigger-happy, and he was right; Dmitry was already letting himself fall to the ground even as Gleb fired. This quick thinking saved his life, though it didn’t stop him from being hit; the bullet grazed his arm, and he forced himself not to react to the pain as he hit the ground. And somewhere, amidst all of this, Anya screamed.

“No! Dmitry!”

She was beside him in an instant, and then turned to glare at Gleb.

“What have you done!?”

“He… He startled me…” Gleb insisted. He sounded less harsh now—if anything, he seemed to be trying to defend himself to the same woman he had been ready to kill only moments ago.

“…You really don’t care about the lives of innocents,” she realized. “You really believe that my brother and sisters deserved to die—and that I should have died with them! We were children, Gleb! We didn’t know anything! All we knew was that our world was ending, and we didn’t know why! I lost them all that night…” Her voice broke. “And now, Dmitry… You shot him for no reason…!”

Dmitry had to force himself to stay silent as she drew her arms around him; if he was going to stop Gleb, he needed to keep the element of surprise, in spite of the pain she would be feeling.

“Do you want to end the line of the Romanovs, Gleb?” she continued. “Then finish it. I am the Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanov!”

Gleb sighed heavily and walked over to them, the gun drawn again—but he hesitated, and Dmitry seized the chance.

He used his uninjured arm to help launch himself from the ground; Anya gasped as he broke through her embrace. As he rose, he elbowed Gleb in the gut, and followed with a strike to his wrist, trying to get him to drop the gun. He dodged as Gleb tried to knee him in the gut next, but he let go of Gleb’s wrist in the process; before Gleb could aim again, he punched him squarely on the jaw.

The gun clattered to the floor as Gleb finally let go of it, and all three of them went for it. But Gleb reached it first, and Dmitry immediately now withdrew, standing in front of Anya to protect her.

“Dmitry, run…” she whispered, trying to get in front of him as Gleb held the gun on them again.

“No,” Dmitry replied, refusing to let her get in front.

“Dmitry, I order you--”

“After what I went through with your grandmother, you don’t scare me,” he said; he’d have probably smirked if the situation hadn’t been so serious.

Anya realized that arguing was futile; she merely seized Dmitry’s hand instead as Gleb drew closer.

“You realize I have valid reasons to kill the both of you?” he asked. “I have my orders to kill Anastasia. And as for him… He attacked an officer!”

They didn’t say a word in their defense. Anya once again tried to stand in front of Dmitry, but couldn’t; she did, however, draw to his side. They still held on to each other’s hands, standing side-by-side, glaring back at Gleb in defiance.

Gleb moved the gun from one to the other, and back again; he was clearly hesitating again, but neither Anya nor Dmitry broke their glare.

After what seemed like an age, Gleb finally lowered the gun.

“…I can’t…” he muttered, in a defeated tone.

He turned the gun around and held it out, handle-first; Dmitry shook his head, and Anya’s expression softened.

“Neither could we,” she said.

Gleb gave a nod and turned to go.

“Farewell, Comrades,” he said, before departing.

Anya and Dmitry both held their breath until he had gone, and then finally sighed in relief.

“You took a risky chance,” Dmitry chided, running a hand through his light brown hair.

“So did you; I thought you were…,” she trailed off, unable to finish the thought. She glanced at his arm. “You’re bleeding…”

“It looks worse than it is,” Dmitry insisted, but before he could stop her, she had torn the hem of her dress—that beautiful, regal dress! Dmitry was stricken temporarily speechless as she used the cloth as a makeshift tourniquet. Finally, his voice returned. “…Thank you.”

“Thank you, too,” she said. She didn’t elaborate, nor did she need to.

Dmitry nodded.

“Well, as long as you’re alright…” he said, and he turned to go.

“Wait,” she said, grabbing his uninjured arm.

“Don’t drag this out any longer,” Dmitry pleaded. “Just a simple goodbye--”

“It’s not that simple!” she returned. “I know you left without collecting the reward—Nana told me! …And now I know why you left.”

Dmitry turned back to her with a pained expression.

“I can’t be a part of this world—your world,” he said. “We both know that.”

“Maybe this world isn’t for me, either,” she said. “I’ve been away from it for so long, and…” She smiled, recalling the conversation she’d had with her grandmother earlier. “…Nana will understand.”

“…Do you even realize what you’re giving up?” Dmitry asked, stunned.

“Yes,” she said, and she took his hand again. “But I also know what I’m getting in return.”

There was also the unspoken fear that she didn’t want to bring up—that if it was announced that Anastasia was alive and well, the Bolsheviks would send someone else to finish what Gleb had been unable to do, and send someone far less merciful, who would kill her and all who had tried to protect her—Dmitry, Vlad, Lily, her grandmother…

It would be safer—for her and everyone she cared about—to live as Anya.

Dmitry seemed to understand what she was thinking. Nodding, he extended his hand, which she took. He leaned in for a kiss, but hesitated, prompting her to roll her eyes and kiss him, which he returned.

“They’ll have heard the gunshot; they’ll be coming to check on us,” Anya said, after a moment. “We should go.”

Dmitry nodded, and, hand in hand, they left; as predicted, the others had heard the shot. Looking back, Anya and Dmitry saw a very worried Vlad looking through the window. They paused long enough for him to notice them and see the worry leave his face; with what was clearly a sigh of relief, Vlad gave them a quick wave of farewell. It would be a bit embarrassing for him, having promised the reporters that they would meet the long-lost princess, but if it meant that Anya and Dmitry could be safe and happy, then it was worth having the egg on his face.

“Take care, Old Friend,” Dmitry said, quietly.

Anya squeezed his hand.

“I know we’ll see them again,” she said.

It was a bittersweet ending to their adventure, but it was also the promise of a new beginning—one that they would start together.

#Anastasia #anastasia musical #fanfics

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amandebw · 6 years

Text

Prompts

Stories Ideas

Akafuri - God akashi x priest furihata - Child akashi x babysitter furihata and when Akashi is older he meets Kouki again and decides that he'll be his. - Child furihata x fox demon Akashi Acelu - reincarnation au - they are soulmates and ace is a dragon - demons - gangs Kagehina - Hinata dresses up as Santa to lift Kageyama spirit and to show him what Christmas is about. Usuk - Werewolf America x vampire or warlock England - America times travels back to when England was a pirate due to one of Arthur's spells. Cue America being so confused because since when is Arthur this hot and rude? - Big brother America x child England Ereri - Possessive Levi x dense cutie named Eren - Host club snk Nalu - Demon/dragon Natsu x Lucy - Halloween demon Natsu x angel Lucy - Pirate Natsu x princess, mermaid, or peasant Lucy Russia x reincarnated Anastasia Hannigram - Will finds out - Alpha Hannibal x Omega Will - Wendigo Hannibal x Will - AU where Will's first meeting with Hannibal is when he is the Chesapeake Ripper and not Dr. Hannibal Lecter. - Demon Hannibal x Will - A/B/O dynamic where omega Will only loved one man, the Chesapeake Ripper - due to his empathy even though he's never met him- , until he meets Alpha Hannibal. They fall in love and at the end, during Will's heat, he figures out that Hannibal and the Chesapeake Ripper are the same person and finally succumbs to his own dark nature as he tells Hannibal his feelings for all of him and that he knows. - Hannibal as the Cheasapeake Ripper tries to court FBI Empath, Will Graham, by killing people that have offended him as gifts. What a delightful surprise he has when Will answers with his own murder. (Of course Will hasn't told anyone that all the dead corpses appearing are due to the Ripper and him courting and Jack thinks Will could never murder anyone due to the breakdown he fakes when he kills criminals on cases) - mafia Hannibal x Will - Will meets Hannibal for the first time without his encephalitis an it takes him about two second to realize the man in front of him is not only a killer but The Cheasapeake Ripper. Hannibal is charmed. Hartwin - Mafia boss Harry x Eggsy - Dark Harry x Eggsy - Soulmate tattoo AU where Eggsy sees Harry's tattoo when he's in a coma and is too scared to tell him they're Soulmates. When Harry gets shot by Valentine and is believed to be dead, Eggsy tells Merlin after V Day that he and Harry where Soulmates and showing him his tattoo as he cries. Cue Merlin awkwardly telling him that Harry is not dead and was on the computer watching the scene. Eggsy, remembering Harry's disappointment after their fight, runs only for Harry to run after him. - Alpha Harry who is the chief of a nomadic tribe rests at a village which he is allied to and meets Omega Eggsy. As he falls for the Omega he finds out about Eggsy's abusive step-dad and steps in (and by that we all know I mean that he viciously kills him because no one hurts his omega). Eggsy then leaves with Harry and they come back for holidays to see Daisy and Eggsy's mom. Gramander - mummy!Newt and daddy!Percy where Newt's creatures want their mummy to be happy and he seems to really like the nice man who let them stay in his house and they like him and want him to be their daddy too. Spideypool - Peter going to a convention dressed as Spider-Man and participates in a Spider-Man costume contest. Ironically, he looses to Wade who, at the end, goes to Peter to tell him his costume is pretty cool and Peter is like, "Shut up Wade, I can't believe I lost to Deadpool of all people." And Wade realizes that oh shit it's the real Spidey and he's so fuckin cute. Merthur - future au where both Merlin and Arthur are reincarnated with their memories and they meet again... While Arthur is the leader of the Round Table, the most feared mafia in England. Cue everyone with no memories of the past being so confused about why their big bad boss is so nice to this random guy who actually called him a prat. Tomarry - young Harry, after being beaten, gets teleported to the future in the middle of a battle with old Harry and Voldemort. Old Harry and Voldemort call a truce as old Harry heals young Harry as he knows exactly where all his wounds are- you don't forget the day the word Freak was engraved on you. Dumbledore tries to attack young Harry hence the truce since all magical children are precious, the only reason it was remotely acceptable for Voldemort to attack Harry was because of the prophecy. When young Harry wakes up, Voldemort finds out that this abused boy is Potter and when the child recognizes him as Tom it is revealed that Dumbledore obliviated him of his childhood memories and that he is a horcrux. - Tom and Harry love each other even if they won’t admit it and are, technically, enemies. But the thing is that Tom is really possessive of things he considers his so when another Dark Lord wannabe pops up and kidnaps Harry he finds the location and saves Harry using the excuse that Harry is his to kill, justifying his actions. Cue Harry thinking Tom is adorable for trying to excuse himself with a clearly fake lie and, before he 'escapes' Tom, he kisses him. A few months later, Tom takes over Wizarding Britain and claims Harry as his consort. - Hadrian Ciaràn Peverellus (Harry) is the son of the king of gryffindor and unknown to the Slytherin emperor becomes one of his ninjas as part of the squad the gryffindor kingdom gifts him. He goes by Ainon during that time. - Soulmates au where whatever you write on your skin appears on your other half too. Cue young abused Harry writing for help and Tom, who is either a mafia boss or a powerful politician/ceo, comes to the rescue. Then Tom dealing with the small boy who is his soulmate- and shit he doesn't know how to act with kids what is he supposed to do?- and raising Harry. - Makai Ouji Au where Harry/William (reincarnation of King ?/Solomon), Tom/Dantalion, Nagini/Mamon & Amon, Draco/Sitri, Bellatrix/Lamia, Dumbledore/Michael, Sirius/Uriel aka Kevin, Remus/S. Mathers, Luna/Isaac, Cedric/M. Swallow, - VR game, Harry has 2 avatars (one OP hero type, one crossdressing that specializes in the weirdest stuff) and meets Lord Voldemort the leader of a PK guild when he’s in his ‘girl’ avatar. - Time travel where Harry just tells everyone he s from the future and becomes the new loony love good since no one believes him... But Tom isn't quite sure that it s all lies and there's just something about Harry that draws him in. Danny Fenton x Danny Phantom - Danny was supposed to be an omega, but every ghosts are alphas. So, his human and ghost half came to an agreement and he becomes a beta. Cue Fenton and Phantom being separated and gaining their true classification and all they want is to be one again... But not necessarily to be the same person. Peter Pan - Abused Peter Pan who treats Hook like shit because he thinks that the pirate will be like all the adults he's ever known and by the time he realizes that Hook isn't like the others he's suceeded in making the pirate hate him. What happens when Hook finds out why Peter acted like an arrogant brat with him? Batman - Damian gets kidnapped and Bruce saying that he please doesn't kill him and when the kidnapper says he won't Bruce says he was talking to Damian. Random Prompt Ideas - Villains being protective of their hero. Ex: there's this new villain and he hurts the hero (The Flash, Harry Potter) and their villain (Len/Mick, Voldemort) get pissed and hurt the new villain saying that they're the only ones allowed to hurt the hero. - Villain finds out that the hero is a kid and suddenly becomes overprotective. Villain is like, "You're a kid, you should be doing homework. Go hang out with your friends." And just being a mother hen while the hero is like, "I'm a hero. Stop coddling me, I can take care of myself." - Villain is an abused teen whose parents are influential people, all his 'evil' plans were attempts to get rid of them. One day, the hero finds out when he attacks the villain and notices certain bruises and cuts that he most certainly didn't put on him. After all, what kind of hero would carve the word 'trash' into someone?

#knb #akafuri #acelu #kagehina #usuk #Ereri #hartwin #Peter pan #batman #Harry potter #Danny phantom #merthur #spideypool #gramander #Nalu #Russia

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kclenhartnovels · 6 years

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Handbook for Heartless Killers Excerpt

Since @greenhousewriting got me talking about it, and @sarcastic--screaming was super interested, here is an excerpt from early in the book. This is her fifth interview with one of my favorite villains. The book is told from Analise’s perspective, so be ready to get into her head.

Rule Five: Be Ruthless

Morgana Anastasia Chekov Rain

I left breakfast relatively early, taking my remaining half a bagel and coffee with me to my little makeshift office. There, I reviewed my notes from the first four interviews, trying to establish some sort of pattern between them, some sort of hint of what could be plausible triggers for someone to lose it. I wished I had a better idea of what I was looking for, but it was something to focus my brain on when I was gathering myself. I almost wished I had brought the book along I had been reading the night before, not because it was terribly interesting, but just to have something inane to let myself tune out the world.

“Whenever you’re ready, Dr. Henderson.”

I was ready for a vacation.

Morgana Rain threw me off-guard when I first walked into the room. I wasn’t sure what I expected from the name printed on the paper—maybe some hefty mob boss’s wife, or even a svelte Russian assassin like Black Widow, but Morgana was none of those. She could have been a pin-up model with an hourglass figure accented in a white dress and heels, thick dark hair spilling over one shoulder. She hardly looked weak though, standing beside the far door inspecting her manicured nails in a manner of one who was deep in thought rather than really interested in appearances. She had on at least four rings that all looked like they had real stones in them, and there was nothing gaudy in her appearance despite the abundance of jewelry. When I stepped in, she looked up and smiled, giving me a once-over and a look that told me she was less than impressed, and wanted me to know it.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long,” I greeted, not entirely sure where to start with her.

“Not long,” she assured, only carrying a faint accent. She stepped away from the door at last, and took my hand when I offered it.

“Can I get you anything to drink before we start? Coffee, tea, water?” I felt like I was stalling. I wished I had taken longer getting ready.

“I’m fine. You look as if you could use something yourself, though,” she added, her gaze wandering up and down again. “Rough day at the office?”

“Oh, the day is still young. If I call it rough already, I’m going to be in trouble later.” I sat down at last, and she did the same. I wished I had come in before her, to see how she had investigated the room, because right now she paid it absolutely no mind. She was fixed on me instead, and I felt like I was under intense evaluation, and I didn’t like it. I was supposed to be the one getting into her head, not the other way around. “May I call you by your first name?”

Her smile could have charmed baby birds and curdled milk at the same time. “May I call you by yours, Analise?”

“If you wish, that’s fine.”

“Then Morgana will do.”

“So, Morgana, what do you do for a living?”

She smiled again, her dark eyes focused on me. I felt my stomach quiver, and I was sure it wasn’t the excess coffee. She crossed her legs comfortably, her dress riding up to show a generous portion of thigh. Jesus, this woman. She must make heads turn everywhere. “I own a business with my husband and family. It keeps me busy.”

“What sort of business?”

“The White Russian. Have you heard of it?”

“The strip club?”

She smiled innocently. “Oh, have you been?”

Somehow I wasn’t at all surprised. “Not personally, no. I have friends who have gone. They liked it.”

“You should come down sometime. We have a ladies’ night twice a month.”

“How did you get into a business like that?”

“My cousin was technically in charge of it at first, but he had no head for it. He would have run it into the ground within a month. So I convinced my Uncle to let me help him out. Well, eventually my husband and I took over completely. We turned a much better profit that way.”

“Do you like it there?”

“I love it. My husband loves it the rare occasion I get on stage, too.”

“I imagine so,” I agreed, a bit breathlessly. As much as I tried to stay professional and concentrating on my notes, my eyes kept straying to the curve of her lips and the way her dark hair tumbled over her shoulder, drawing the gaze down to her breasts. “He doesn’t mind all the other men looking at you?”

“He’s not the jealous type. But he does love making other men jealous of him. Have you ever stripped before?”

“Not in public, no.” I felt my ears heat, and I wished I could stray the topic from sex without moving away from her work. The first time I had stripped for someone was with my first girlfriend, and I remembered dancing around her dorm room teasingly, watching her smile grow when I tossed my bra back over at her, but kept my arm across my chest to keep her from seeing anything. And I remember clearly being tackled onto the bed afterwords.

“You could probably turn a decent profit. Pay off those college loans, yeah?”

“The military paid for my education, but thank you all the same.”

She shrugged, and smoothed her hands along her lap with the slow, seductive movement of a professional temptress. Jesus Christ. Michael had gotten me hot and bothered on accident; this woman oozed sex from every pore. The heat rose into my cheeks now and I felt it flushing between my legs as well. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t want to go anywhere alone with her. She had a look about her that promised a good time, but only on her terms, and I was sure that her terms would include more bite marks and bruises than I cared for.

I cleared my throat. “Did you grow up in this area, too?”

Morgana shook her head. “I was born in Russia, outside of Khabarovsk, which is near the border of China. I came to America when I was fifteen.”

“Your parents moved here?”

“No, they still live there with my other siblings. I couldn’t stand it there. I left to live with my Uncle. He told me if I could make it to California, he would take care of me from there. I don’t think he realized that I had every intention of actually doing it.”

“You traveled on your own from Russia to California? How did you get the money to travel?”

She smiled slyly. “I found a way. I took a train to the sea, then a boat to Otaru, Japan. From there, I made my way to Tokyo, and then flew into San Fransisco. My Uncle picked me up there, and flew me to New York City. That’s where he was living at the time.”

“That’s quite a journey for a teenager on her own. And expensive.”

“I made my way through it. I was good at convincing people to help me. And I did what needed to be done.”

The way she spoke, I wasn’t sure if she was talking about sex or murder. I would have to find a way to get her to be more specific. Maybe I needed to go a different direction.

“What does your Uncle do for a living?”

She folded her hands demurely in her lap. “My Uncle Nicolai? He runs a part of the Russian mob.”

Well, that was more specific. And it crossed off a lot of my questions right off the bat. “And your husband is part of the mob as well?”

“He is now,” she chuckled. “My Uncle was not thrilled when I first started dating him, but now he is more of a son to him than my cousin is. If he can convince the rest of the crew, I think that Rain will take over one day. At least until Nikki is old enough.”

I wrote down all of the names she said to get back to later. There was almost too much to go off of now. "Rain," I repeated. "You call your husband by his last name?" I had to assume, based on her name at the top of my paper.

She laughed. "Well, everyone does. He hates his first name. Bartholomew," she added with a snicker that showed she clearly was not supposed to say it. "His parents were pretentious. I do call him by his first name if I want to get him riled up."

"How did you meet him, if he wasn't part of the mob?"

She sighed, and leaned back into her chair. "My Uncle insisted that I should get a proper education before I got into the family business, so he sent me to college. I met Rain there in my second year. We had similar tastes, we found out pretty quickly. I wasn't much interested in college, to be honest. It bored me. I wanted to be out of it and doing something more productive. Or at least doing somewhere where I didn't have to rely on my family if I didn't need to. So when I saw Rain and the car he was driving, I went for him."

"The car he was driving? He looked rich then?"

"He was—well, his parents were," she said with a grin. "And he was quite good-looking, which helped. After that we never parted. It all worked out well for us."

"Does he see you as a trophy wife then?" I had to try and figure out their dynamic. She was clearly a strong and hard-headed woman. Did she rule the roost, or was he just the same way? She didn't seem to be describing him as a rich husband to crush under her heel as much as a partner in crime. Especially if he was being lined up to be a mob successor, he had to have something else going for him.

She laughed again, and I could see a genuine adoration in her smile, which surprised me. I suppose there was no rule saying that criminals couldn't love each other, but it seemed odd to me to have it so clearly there. "I am a trophy wife, but he sees me as his wife. I could say I see him as a trophy husband as well, which wouldn't be entirely untrue. But we are partners and equals, if that is what you are asking."

I took in another slow breath, and pinched the bridge of my nose for a moment. My head was starting to hurt, but I was trying to ignore it. At least that was better than letting my thoughts stray to sex while talking with her. I could take aspirin for a headache. "You mentioned Nikki taking over the family later on. Who is he?"

"My son," she said with more of that adoration seeping in. "I named him after my Uncle. He's only a little over a year old now."

"Is he your first child?"

"Yes and no," she chuckled. "I gave birth to twins—Anastasia and Nicolai. Rain is home with them at the moment, so I am sure they are keeping him quite busy. My Uncle is completely in love. He has more or less adopted them as his rightful heirs, since his son shows no promise of getting married any time soon. Not that I can blame any women for avoiding him. He is a pig, and a spineless and ugly one at that. It suits me just fine. Now I can secure the future of my children instead."

"Have you done something to help convince your Uncle that his son is less than worthy?"

"I didn't really have to," she said with a viper's smile that told me a different story. "He is lazy and stupid. I could run circles around him even without my private school education. He tried to exert his will over me, but it was such a fragile thing. He's not up to much these days. He hangs around with his circle of sycophants and smokes weed and complains. I don't know the last time he has even completed a job for the family. I think my Uncle has stopped asking, especially since Rain has been around to take care of things for him."

I wrote quickly. While it was true there were plenty of people with no ambition on their own, the way she spoke I was sure she did something to her cousin to get him to back down and bow out. There was no doubt in my mind that she could do it. "So your husband does work for your Uncle and the rest of the mob? What kind of work?"

"Whatever needs doing," she cooed, shifting in her chair to sit more comfortably. "I help him out sometimes, of course."

"Do you like that kind of work?"

"It depends on what it is," she shrugged, casually picking at one of her nails. "I have been called sadistic before, though. Usually by the people we are extracting information from. Or from Rain's birthday presents."

I stopped writing, and even though I really didn't want to know, I had to ask. "Birthday presents?"

"Oh, yes." Her dark eyes focused in on mine, and I felt like a mouse pinned under a lion's paw. "His favorite gift from me is a pretty girl tied to the bed waiting for him. Oh, don't look so concerned. They end up enjoying it eventually, and they're always able to limp home. It's not such an unusual thing."

"Do...the girls know what they're getting into beforehand?"

She laughed. "If they did, then how could he enjoy the look of fear on their faces when I first bring him in?"

Jesus Christ. I needed some air. "Do you mind if we take a short break?" I asked, standing more abruptly than I intended.

Her smile could have sweetened vinegar. "Of course not, Analise. Take all the time you need."

#writing #excerpt #handbook for heartless killers #morgana #have fun with this it needs work but #it's kind of fun

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imagine-that-one-thing · 7 years

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Styles Towers. || 4

Author’s Note: Hey hey!! Here is part 4!!! Rated M for Mature audiences.

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

Chapter Three.

Don’t forget the other links:

The first book Can also be found on WattPad, HERE

The first book found HERE

You can find my blurb Master list HERE

|| While you were sleeping. ||

|| Harry || I smile to myself as I overhear the sound of Elise’s heels echoing against the flooring downstairs and leisurely making their way to the staircase. I look at the suit on the bed, somewhat eager to get it on.

I never thought the day would come that I would be impassioned to draw on a full suit that’ll be inconvenient by the end of the evening, but I am. It has been four weeks since the car accident and the last two weeks have been hell for a recovery, my body still isn’t the way it used to be, it aches, it’s still weak, and it still feels the aches it did when I was reclining upon the road.

Elise saunters through the bedroom door and I give her a grin as I greet her, but she barely gives me one in return. I frown for a moment but brush it off as she kisses my cheek.

“How was your day?” I challenge, running a towel through my damp hair as she sits on the edge of the bed and slips off her heels.

“Long and exhausting,” she responds with a heavy sigh, closing her eyes for a few moments. “What time do we have to leave?”

“In an hour,” I respond, clutching my button down and gliding it up my arms as Elise executes her fingers through her hair.

Elise and I grow withdrawn as we both get ready for the charity event, I give her some space, taking note of her sluggishness and her tiredness. I know what it’s like to wake up at four in the morning and having to get through a whole day plus night dealing with things, I know how much it must be hurting her. But, after tonight it should be mainly me getting up at four and she can sleep and relax. That’s of course if she continues to work under me and not Logan. If she stays in my—our— business, I do not expect her up and Adam before the sun even rises. Quite honestly, I want her to relax for a little while and let me take back the reins, she’s exhausted as it is, I’ve executed enough stress on her, the least I can do is take it all back.

I wait downstairs for Elise, my eyes watching the time religiously— I hate being late, but I can tolerate it this one time for Elise. I’ve come to learn that waiting on Elise is one of the small things life has to offer. “Elle, sweetheart—,” I begin to tenderly call from the staircase but stop when I see her reach the top. My eyes glisten as she flawlessly steps down the staircase in a white dress that compliments her in every damn way. To say the least, I can’t help but still drool over her.

She reaches the bottom of the stairs and I kiss her cheek, knowing well enough that kissing her lips will ruin her lipstick, and as much as I have done that purposely in the past, I can’t tonight. “You look lovely,” I compliment here, appreciating the fact she still makes my heart flutter in my chest. She could come down these stairs in sweatpants and my t-shirt and I’d still swoon over her. I take Elise’s hand and escort her out of the house.

Elise and I slide into the back of the car, our driver closing the door behind us. The moment I get settled, Elise rests her head against my shoulder and grows quiet, poor thing, I can tell she is exhausted and probably can’t wait to hand the reins of the business back to me.

I slide out of the car as my driver opens the door and I stand and offer my hand to Elise, she places her hand with mine before elegantly getting out of the car and adjusting her dress. I take a breath as I gander up at my building, something I have managed to neglect for the last few weeks due to certain circumstances.

Elise presses her hand to my arm as we step inside my building and we make our way towards the same area I hold all my capital events, Christmas parties, welcoming parties, charity events, you name it. It’s always the same room, just dissimilar decorations and setups. The doors slide open upon our arrival and we both take a step in, my eyes instantaneously glimmer as they meet the beautiful setup Elise managed to organise, from lights to flowers, to a black and gold colour scheme.

I really did get lucky with her, I swear.

“This looks lovely, truly.” I kiss her cheek, proud of the fact she put this together with such short notice and little experience with things, Anastasia presumably helped her, but there is no doubt in my mind that Elise did most of the work, she isn’t like me and passes things off to people of more experience, I tend to just swipe my card and have Anastasia do what needs to be done decoration wise.

“Ah, the man of the hour,” Niall welcomes me, shaking my hand before engulfing Elise into a warm embrace,

“Mate, that is you, this is all for you,” I shake my head, not wanting any sort of spotlight on me.

I may be leisurely stepping foot back into the world of business, but this event is focused on charity and formally announcing Niall as a partner in the business, he has earnt his position, especially with how highly Elise has spoken of him since I’ve been absent.

“And you, Elise, ain’t you just looking wonderful tonight, still glowing.” Niall chuckles and I roll my eyes impishly towards him.

“She is gorgeous, isn’t she?” I grin, more than delighted to show her off and throw her out into the spotlight, she deserves to be told she is beautiful, “But, you should go flirt with Anastasia, I hear she is still on the market,” I wink, purposely watching Niall clench his jaw to stop him from blushing at the sound of her name.

Oh, how I have missed being light-hearted with him and with everyone.

“Oh ha, ha, you are hilarious. So, I guess you’re not firing me?” Niall teases me and I wrinkle my brow for a moment, trying not to smirk and remember my little emotional outburst that was a little overly dramatic. Elise chuckles, her small laughter beside me bringing me more merriment than anyone could possibly imagine, “Niall, it was a really bad day. You’re too… re…re..” I trail off, struggling to think of the word I am looking for. Fuck.

“Reliable,” Elise whispers just for me to hear as she kisses my cheek,

I clear my throat, “You’re too reliable, can’t get rid of yeh,” I recover my small stutter and lapse of thought.

“How about you fly the coop? I know a few men waiting to speak to you about business.” Niall subtly eases his way into a small convincement of luring me into business conversations.

I look towards Elise and she gives me a tender smile, “I’m going to get a drink, I’ll catch up with you in a bit?” She proposes and I bite my lip, not really wanting to stray away from her, I feel more at ease when she is by my side, but I nod my head. She leans up and places a small kiss to my lips, “Niall, watch him,” Elise instructs protectively. I talk business with a few men, one particularly boasting about how well Elise was with him when he proposed a pitch to her. I’m more than proud of my wife, she deserves more credit than she has received.

I, for the life of me, have no idea how she managed to win over this man, a man that Niall had struggled with previously, but what I do know is that Elise is one hell of a woman.

I smile as the man continues to tell me about his encounter with my wife, honestly, I’m nothing but proud and honoured.

“She’s a quick learner,” I nod, his wife interrupting the conversation with a courteous smile,

“Where is your wife? I have yet to meet her. I’d love to meet the woman who is highly spoken of,” she courteously questions, causing me to realise that I haven’t seen Elise in quite a while, she has been MIA since she left me with Niall and that was at least an hour ago.

“She’s around here somewhere, by the end of the night I’ll be sure to introduce the two of you,” I assure the lady as my eyes subtly pry around for my wife. I don’t know where she has gotten herself off too, but she can’t be too far.

The lovely couple excuses themselves and I find myself ultimately free of business for a moment.

I finally have a whole moment to myself to breathe in and out. As much as I have been eager to get back out into this world, my body fucking hurts, maybe Elise was right, I should have taken more time to rest, but I’m going insane having to sit in the house and do absolutely nothing. My eyes scour the congregation of businessmen and women in their optimum attire as they mingle and network.

I hearken to the sound of glass breaking by striking violently to the floor and I flashback.

*** ***

My body stiffens as it is moved forward with a bounding motion from the unforeseen eruption of the car hitting something before glass smashes into smithereens and falls around me, everything rotating rapidly for a moment as it feels like the vehicle is tumbling. I take heavy breaths for my eyes attempt to focus on myself; I tilt my head down and distinguishes glass in my lap and all around me and sinking into the skin of my hand. I lend an ear to a few voices in the distance and they leisurely get closer before the vehicle door is hauled open, glass hacking to pieces further and falling to the ground out of the car as the door unlatches. I cock my head to the side, a shadow leaning in and unclipping my seatbelt as he careens over and drags me out. Pain lathers through me as I’m moved and I do my best not to moan in constant, agonising pain.

I’m rested on the terrain and the man hovers over me, my vision striving to focus. Bitter words are spat around and my wedding band is taken from me and heaved to the ground…. A voice resounds from a distance as I open my eyes to encounter someone hovering over me, the voice sounding familiar, “Harry, oh fuck… hey, hey, stay with me,” the voice instructs as my eyes struggle to stay open, “Harry, you have to keep your eyes open, help is on the way… Harry, c’mon for once listen to me. Fuck,” … “open your eyes, damnit Harry, if you don’t fucking open them I swear… I swear. Just open them.” The voice continues to whisk through my ears against the whistling of the wind around us. “Fuck, I have to go.” He murmurs as my vision has a stumble and grants permission to me to make out his features, distinctive features I’d never expect to witness while I’m close to dying on the ice-cold, stiff ground.

I use all my energy to raise my arm and grasp his attention, my fingers agilely managing to catch the material of his suit jacket. “Don’t leave,” I cough, the words hurting my throat like knives slicing me with every breath,

“I have to, I’m sorry,”

“Elle,” I dryly manage to get out, just wanting Elise to be watched over and looked out for.

“I’ll get her, she’ll be okay.” Logan gives me a nod before he’s transiting away from me, leaving me on the cold hard ground like the other men did.

*** End of Flash Back ***

I take a deep breath, the fracturing glass being enough for me to be suddenly assailed by the same pain I did that night, the painfulness of glass prodding into my skin, the feeling of my head delivering a blow to the window before the car flipped, and the impression of withering away leisurely to my death.

“Where’s Elise?” I grab Niall, not bothering to excuse my unsatisfactory manners as he turns to me, instantly stopping his conversation with three men.

Niall glances around and shrugs his shoulder, “I don’t know, mate.”

“I need Elise,” I horse-whisper, my hands beginning to shake. Niall flicks his head and gestures for me to follow him. We step out of the crowded area of men and women, I lean against the wall as Niall pulls out his phone.

“Ah, there she is,” Niall instantly points out, shoving his phone in his pocket as Elise walks towards me from the lobby.

“Where have you been?” I interrogate in a bit of an erosive tone, forgetting that the world doesn’t, in fact, revolve around me. Niall leisurely backs away and Elise takes a breath,

“Outside.” She informs me, “what’s wrong?” She delicately questions as I yank at the tie around my neck, feeling far too constricted and trapped as it’s around me.

Her hands effeminately push away my own and she helps me out, loosening my tie as I take a few deep breaths. ”I-I, I can feel the accident and the pain… it’s, it’s going up my arm and my back. A glass broke and suddenly it just started,” I get tongue-tied.

“Take a few deep breaths, take off your jacket,” she instructs and I do as she commands.

I slide it down my arms and permit it to drape over my arm. “Turn around,” she gives precise instructions and I turn my back to her.

Her hand graciously presses to my arm before I feel her hand caressing my back and massaging it soothingly, “breathe, you’re right here with me, you’re not anywhere else but with me.” She whispers in a sweet way, “you’re okay, forget about everything and just focus on us… it was just a memory.” … “here, talk to me about something,”

“What about?” I sigh, unsure of what to tell her, I don’t think she wants to hear more about how glass shattering managed to trigger pain to shoot through my body; I don’t think she wants to hear about any of it.

“Anything, tell me about the song you wrote,”

“Elle,” I breathe out, the thought of opening up about my veiled interest just never settles with me.

It’s a part of me that I attempted to forget, it comes with obscure shadows that I prefer to keep far away from me. Music used to be my escape— it used to be my saving grace— then it became a benighted, twisting rupture that suffocated me and made me weak at the knees. But, if I can’t tell my wife, who can I tell?

“I wrote it when we first started dating, I hadn’t played the piano for years until you came along, I just—I wrote a melody that made me think of you, and this sounds cheesy and cliche, but it’s true. I wanted a melody to keep me humming along so I didn’t entirely lose touch with that side of me. Over the years, I played it when I needed a sense of calmness, it always seemed to work.”

“Why have I never heard you play it? The most I’ve really managed to catch is a few chords from your guitar and that was rare.” Elise questions, her hand still rubbing soothing circles over my back. “I don’t play unless I’m alone.”

“You should play more,”

“Too many memories,” I shake my head, the reasons for stopping being far more ferocious than the reasons to start.

I gave up most the music and creativity when I went head first into business concerns. I made a decision to put my efforts into my establishment and to keep my mind off of the things I didn’t want to remember or know of.

“Bad memories?” Elise in a low voice cross-examines, her hand leaving my back and I turn to properly face her.

I don’t have to say a word or even nod, just one gaze into my eyes and she knows the answer, “I’m sorry, maybe we should make new memories with it. You’re pretty good at this music stuff,”

“And you, my dear, are dreadful at melodies,” I chuckle, giving her a wink in reference to when she sat beside me and pressed random keys to echo a terrible melody.

“I never once said I was good, you should teach me.” Elise smiles as I gingerly curl my arm around her to bring her closer to me.

“Mmm, if you flirt a little more, I just might,” I respond with a small grin, the idea of sitting down with her and showing her how to play the piano or guitar fills me with a sense of blithe, I don’t know why, but it does. Elise delicately envelopes her arms around my neck and presses her lips effortlessly against mine, “I’ve said this a lot, but I love you,” she whispers against my lips, pecking them one last time before moving to stare into my eyes.

“And I love you,” I smile, moving to allow my hand to push some of her hair away from her face. “I should probably get back in there… wanna stand with me in case I forget more words and make a fool of myself?” I challenge, wanting her to stay by me as I mingle. I’m not usually the indigent type, but at the moment, I want her around me, she’s my sense of security right now, essentially my left hand.

Elise coincides and we make a move back into the corporative civilization. men instantaneously surround me with their cocky grins and piercing eyes that want my attention and solutions to their business issues. I don’t have much to say to them, this night isn’t about me. Well, it is, it’s my first step back into work, but I don’t want to everything to be about me.

I take the time to look at Elise and I cock my head to the side, something about her seeming off, she doesn’t seem bubbly and delighted, she’s no longer glowing— something just seems off with her. She fakes a smile as the businessman informs her on some sort of story that I know she’s not interested in, I don’t blame her, she’s presumably displeased of all the business talk.

Niall comes along with his charming smile and lightens the mood into a conversation that isn’t entirely revolving around business. Elise strays away from me and is swallowed by the crowd and disappears.

|| Elise ||

“Hey, sweetheart, can I buy you a drink?” Harry smiles as he encounters me sitting by the side of the bar, doing my best to stay out of conversations and away from the business civilization.

“I don’t know, my husband might get a bit mad,” I wear a smile up at him as he with great care takes my hand and laces his fingers with my own,

“Ah, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, love. Any drink, it’s on me.” He grins, leaning down and settling a kiss to my cheek. “You look ravishing tonight, as always. Making my heart weak in this dress,” he whispers subtly,

“Is the CEO flirting with me?” I merrily giggle, and he cautiously tugs at my hand to signal for me to stand on my feet.

With great effort, I exert force against myself to my feet, his arm instantaneously wrapping around me graciously before kissing my lips affably, “who wouldn’t flirt with yeh? You’re gorgeous.” He beams blissfully and I rest my hands on his chest, leaning up and kissing him again lightly, well aware that we aren’t alone and there are probably business executives surveilling the two of us.

“You brush up quite lovely yourself in this suit, your wife must be one lucky lady,”

“I’m just one lucky man to have her,” he shakes his head, “would you like a drink?” He proposes and I shake my head, courteously declining a drink from the bar. “Mhm, okay… where have you been running off too? Can’t seem to keep you close to me for too long.” Harry interrogates,

“Just talking to people and taking care of things, hey, I was kind of wondering if we could leave soon, or if I could?” I sweetly propose, taking note of how most the charity has already been made and donated by everyone and how I’m not as a matter of fact required. I’d much prefer to be cuddled up in bed than standing here in heels and a dress.

“In about an hour,” he nods, “why? Is it that boring?” He examines,

“No, no, I uh- I hate to sing the blues, I’m just worn out, been up since four.”

“Okay, just another hour, okay?” Harry reasons and I agree, not wanting to force him to leave right at this instant, although, it would be quite a blessing.

“Works for me, but I kinda need a few more kisses to get me through the hour.” I grin, his own lips forming into a smile,

“Anything for you,” he whispers, leaning down and kissing my lips lightly.

I do my best to keep myself engaged and interested in the multiple conversations, but it’s hard when I have many things running through my mind. I’m not in much of a mood to be at this sort of event, I’m doing it just for Harry’s benefit.

These events sometimes get repetitive, I have been to so many and sometimes they’re boring and old.

After being up from four in the morning and barely sleeping, to begin with, all I want is to get to our bed, but here I am, standing in heels that are killing my feet, and a dress that is a little tight but classy enough to still wear. I pulled it out of the wardrobe this morning, I figured it would be a good chance to wear the white dress while it’s still semi-warm. I won’t get to wear it after a few more weeks, probably won’t get to wear half my clothes in a few more weeks.

Harry politely excuses the two of us and leads me away, our hands intertwined,

“Would you like to dance?” Harry proposes, gesturing towards the meagre dance floor of couples slow dancing, I shrug, unsure of whether Harry truly wants to dance, I know he isn’t a fan of it and usually fights me when I endeavour for him to slow dance with me.

I look up at him as we come to a standstill, “are you sure?”

“Yeah, c’mon. It’s the least I can do,” he nods, guiding me towards the dance floor and drawing me closer to him.

His hand presses to the small of my back and he looks down, watching his feet as he leads, doing his best not to step all over me. He sighs as he catches the edge of my dress and I give him a stifled laugh.

I let go of his hand and with great care ruffle the end of my dress into my hand to pull it to the side before I place my hand back with his and he takes the lead, swiftly swaying as I lean closer and lean my head on his shoulder, our bodies being as close as possible and intimate.

“I’ve told you a lot, but you’re breathtakingly radiant, I’m the luckiest man in this room, hands down.” … “I’ve heard a considerable number of good things about you, I’m beyond proud to have you as my wife, honestly,” Harry speaks in a low voice as he concentrates on his feet.

“I’m pretty lucky to have you here, still.”

“Not goin’ anywhere anytime soon, sweetheart,”

“Good, I’d miss these moments too much,”

“What, you’d miss the terrible slow dancing?” Harry snickers, “I’m sure your dresses would be pleased not to have me step all over them.”

“No, I mean just having you around and close to me,”

“I know what you meant. I’m not going anywhere,”

“Promise?” I breathe,

“Promise, love you too much… someone has to keep you on your toes.”

I chuckle delicately as he whispers sweet nothings while we slow dance together, deriving great pleasure from the closeness of our bodies, an intimacy we haven’t felt as much as we used to.

We’ve been disconnected physically. I take a heavy breath before taking a step back and disconnecting Harry and I from our slow dance. “Elle?"

"I just- I’ll be back,” I murmur, needing to draw myself away from everyone and everything.

Harry graciously grasps my hand and draws me back, “just give me a minute,” I speak in a low voice, the two of us getting interrupted in great timing. While Harry is forced to take his attention away from me for a brief moment, I slip away from him and transit out. I’m startled when Harry steps in front of me as I’m sat upon the stone wall of the small garden bed.

“Elise, I’ve been looking all over for you,” Harry murmurs ill-fatedly, something telling me that he’s no longer in the sweet mood he was in around an hour ago.

“I’ve been out here,”

“I see,” he nods, “it would have been nice to have had you in there, a lot of people have been asking for you, love.”

“Harry,” I sigh, “I’m not feeling too well,” I inform him, not wanting to hear about how people have been asking for me or how the business world has missed him. Quite frankly, I do not give a damn. That is not my priority right now.

He fixes his eyes upon me and sighs as he takes his jacket off and steps closer to me. He drapes his jacket around me and kisses my forehead, “Want me to take you home?” He proposes and I shrug, leaning forward and resting my head on him.

I feel his hand press to my back and rub small circles on it as I close my eyes and breathe in his scent.

We stay like this for a few minutes, the fresh air and his warm touch putting me at a bit of ease. “Elle, come on. I’ll take you home if you’re ill.” He murmurs, his hand no longer rubbing my back, forcing me to lift myself away from him.

I take a breath and slide off of the stone edge with Harry’s guidance, Harry’s jacket falling to the cool ground. I sigh and stare down at it, not wanting to bend down.

As if he reads my mind, Harry’s words assure me, “I’ve got it,” he leans down and grabs his jacket, grimacing dimly and doing his best to disguise his own pain from me.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, but he shakes his head before gliding his jacket up my arms so it can’t fall off.

“How about we stay up in the penthouse for the night? It’s more convenient.” Harry proposes as we walk side by side back towards the entrance of his tower.

I give him a nod, not caring too much about where we stay, I just want to get in a cosy bed and feel the warmth of fresh sheets between my body as I’m wrapped up in a comforter. Harry and I step into the Penthouse and the lights shine intermittently I incline my steps towards the extensive window that has a flawless semblance of the city below us— something I immemorially enjoy admiring. I step away and shuffle towards the bed and pick up my clutch I previously threw to the bed. I open it and look down into it, my hand reaching an item in it and carefully placing it in the draw while Harry’s back is turned. I sit on the edge of the bed and watch as Harry turns around, his hands wrestling with his tie as he cocks his head to the side.

“you alright?” He challenges and I give him a nod,

“Yeah, you?”

“Pretty damn sore,” … “probably shouldn’t have moved around so much,” he continues while he grabs hold of a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt from the wardrobe. “here, I’ll help you out of the dress,” he steps closer to me As he throws his tie to the bed along with the clothes he intends to wear to bed.

I stand up and observes him unbutton his shirt, his eyes wincing as he slides it down his arms. “Turn sweetheart,” he instructs and I turn my back to him before his hands bear down on to his jacket I’m still wearing, gingerly gliding it down my arms and placing it on the bed.

I feel a small cold chill run through my body as my shoulders become exposed to the cool air of the room. Harry’s hands rub the sides of my arms for a moment before he kisses the slender column of my neck, leaving a small trail of kisses to my bare shoulder before unzipping my dress and allowing it to waddle up on the floor around me.

Harry sweetly glides his button up to slide up my arms and I turn back to face him, my hands moving to start buttoning them but Harry graciously pushes them away. He gives me a tender smile and buttons the shirt to my liking. I thank him with a small kiss on his lips before I sink myself into the bed and pull the covers around me.

Harry claims his side beside me, eventually, and wiggles around for a while, doing his best to get comfortable beside me, unaware that I’m still awake.

I let out a sigh and move closer to him, my hand resting on his chest, “sorry, darlin’ thought you were asleep.” He says in a low voice,

“It’s okay.”

“Do you want to cuddle, sweetheart? Come here,” he instructs and I move and become comfortable while nestled against him, his warmth radiating ideally onto my body. He kisses the top of my head, “how are you feeling?” He whispers as his hand outlines random shapes and patterns on my arm.

“The same,” … “so, you didn’t tell me how therapy went today.” I change the topic, remembering that Harry had a session this morning.

“Ehh, so-so. Didn’t go nuts this time and try fire, my trainer,” Harry chuckles, “I just find it… what’s that word I’m looking for? Fr- its when something’s annoying… damnit…”

“Frustrating,”

“Yeah, it’s frustrating because I feel like I’m a child having to relearn how to do things and having to regain my strength. Not to mention my vocabulary has gone to shit.”

“It’ll get better, it’s just temporary.”

“Thank god for that, Niall had to cover for me a few times. “Do you feel any better, Elle?” Harry wearily questions as my fingers trace one of his tattoos for the hundredth time,

“No,” I mumble with a heavy sigh and he draws the comforter to better cover me, “Harry?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“You know how you always say I can come to you with anything and tell you anything?” I bring into question as his fingers dance around on my arm, drawing patterns,

“Yeah, what is it, Elise? Should I be worried?” Harry challenges with a tint of apprehension to his voice.

I carefully sit up and force his arms away from me, “Elle, what’s wrong?” He instantaneously interrogates.

“I uh-, so I have something for you, something to tell you,” I mumble, my nerves pulsating through my body and my breath beginning to hitch in my throat, if I didn’t feel sick earlier, I definitely feel unwell now.

I lean over and open the bedside drawer, my fingers coming into contact with the highly polished paper and catching it between them. Harry cautiously sits up with a small moan and I settle the picture so all he can see is the backing of it. He flicks his eyes between me and the photograph and raises a brow before his hand reaches for it and he turns it over.

I observe as he looks with a fixed stare at the sonogram for a moment before he turns his head to gaze at me,

“Love,” his breath hitches in his throat and I feel my own heart hammering in my chest.

“I’m pregnant,” the words ultimately scamper away from my lips that have been harbouring in the news since I found out. I had endeavoured to tell him the day of his accident but he was too much in a rush to realise what I was attempting to allege. “I found out while you were sleeping,”

His eyes look back and stare at the sonogram resting in his hand as the silence of the room plays mind games with me.

I can’t handle the silence— I can’t handle his silence.

“I need you to say something,” I talk in a whisper, my nerves continuing to hum through my veins, anxiety beginning to tick me like a ticking time bomb. He focuses his attention on me with gleaming, glossy eyes, his bottom lip quivering as a tear collapse from his grey eyes.

He places the sonogram down to rest on the comforter before he’s staring at me again, the silence annihilating me. He doesn’t say a word, instead, he kisses me sweetly and delicately, just enough to put me at ease.

His hands cup my face as his lips part from mine, “I don’t think I could be any more in love with you, than what I am in this moment… we’re going to have a family,” he whispers with a smile and I nod, pressing the pad of my thumb to his cheek and wiping away a stray tear. “Can… can I?” He gestures towards my stomach that isn’t showing. I give him a nod and he presses his hand ever so delicately to it.

I press my hand over his and settle into him, a tender kiss pressing to the top of my head…

Stay tuned: A plot twist is coming next Chapter! :) xx

#Harry styles imagines #harry styles prompt #harry styles prompts #imagine harry styles #harry styles blurbs #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles preference #harry styles preferences #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles writing

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artburogallery · 4 years

Text

Woman's bag as an art object. History of ARTBURO.

“Beauty without originality not pleasing to the eye.”

Christian Dior

In Paris, in a Lebanese restaurant, I watched a scene. An Arab family, a man and three women, booked a table near us. The man was wearing a tradition business suit, and the ladies strolled behind him in a conventional Arab garment, hiding everything but their eyes. A run of the mill story for Paris and I had already looked away, however then an awesome thing occured - all three as if on command, hung a similar Hermes Birkin on the backs of their seats.

I instantly recollected an episode from the film "The Devil Wears Prada"- a scene when one of the characters wonders why ladies have such a large number of bags. One of the women expresses her opinion as follows: "Fashion is not about utility. An accessory is merely a piece of iconography used to express individual identity".

Were those bags a form of symbolism which is fundamental for self-articulation of personality? Certainly. Given the traditions in the east, sometimes for women, this is the only opportunity for self-expression. Be that as it may, there is a snag. Everything these bags tell me portrays just the accessory, yet not their owner.

For those who are not in the know, like me back in that time, the iconic Hermes crocodile leather bag is a total investment. After several years in the production queue, the customer picks up the bag from the store, which is already higher than the original price, since this is an absolutely exclusive item on the market. Yes, you heard right this bag is an exclusive investment.

And afterwards I take a gander at the women in similar dark dresses, all wearing same Сartier adornments on their hands and my creative mind does not leave me in rest. I urgently need to find out about them... Yes, luxury items have this feature. They are rich in history, authentic, unique, yet they are objects of art that are independent from their proprietors.

But fashion, in particular accessories, is constant communication, a fashion statement, and a method of self-expression. Having paid a fabulous sum for a coveted accessory that just shouts about its status, the owner cannot express a single thought about her as a person. Everything has been thought out and said for her.

A women's bag is a reflection of a woman, her occupation, interests and lifestyle. We are not talking about her bag as an object of practicality - otherwise we would all carry around backpacks and bales.

Once Jane Birkin complained to the chairman of the board of the Hermes House about the lack of choices for a convenient bag, for her trouble this historical accessory was named after herself. The Birkin model depicts the character, femininity and audacity of the actress herself. Can you feel it? In fact, everyone buying this model associates themselves with her. But no more.

When I was first informed that someone had personalized their Birkin bag, I was skeptical. Well, I thought really to purchase a costly item and use it like that, some kind of fad.

I did not understand that for someone this bag is not the only one in the collection. The “save money on that precise thing” metamorphosis has been passed, and the person simply enjoys the opportunity to something absolutely exclusive. By the way, the first person who personalized Birkin was Jane Birkin!

To sort out the issue thoroughly, I decided to talk with Alisa Kovtunova, the creative director and author of the idea of ARTBURO.

And everything began with an idea. However, it isn't generally there from the earliest starting point: "The most fascinating works are obtained when the client and I find the exact story that ought to be reflected in the illustration. Something personal, peculiar to a customer ", says Alisa. As Christian Dior stated, “Beauty without originality not pleasing to the eye”. This is the originality that ARTBURO achieves in each work.

Only original bags are taken into the procedure, the authenticity of products is constantly checked and work with them in a precise way. At first, each bag is reestablished, at that point, the artist begins to work with it as indicated by the chosen concept. All paints used in execution are made in Italy specifically for ARTBURO. This ensures a perfect outcome: the image will resemble a subsequent skin, and there will be no issues with it. Also, this is significant, as unscrupulous rivals use cheap paint, which is washed off and fades at the first signs of rain or humidity, and the drawing does not lay as it should.

Such cheap work is always obvious and simple to distinguish from high quality merchandise.

After completing the illustration, Alisa by and by checks all the works of artists, if necessary, sends them for amendment and brings them to flawlessness. Then the bag is sent to the owner. ARTBURO provides a personal courier service. And the bag is delivered personally into the hands of its holder.

ARTBURO has been operating for five years. Have there been displeased customers over the years? Not a single one. And how many were satisfied? Can't be counted. It is even more challenging to calculate in which countries orders were made. The boom of such services is in China, however the quality leaves a lot to be desired. Numerous purchases from the Middle East, Europe and the United States. Of course, our “it-girls” did not sidestep this opportunity either, so Nadezhda Obolentseva, Stella Aminova, Anastasia and Tatiana Fuks, singer Kristina Orbakaite, Tatiana Kovylina, Irina Shayk, Angelika Ivanc, Alena Soboleva and Eva Samieva were noticed with the bags of ARTBURO. There are works in the portfolio (even bigger samples) – that paint the inside of a car, yacht and even an airplane.

To show uniqueness, the owner's handwriting is inscribed on the bag. Earlier, such works were done for their astonishment and shock value, now most customers make orders for their own selfish and hedonistic reasons. It's great when a customer has self-irony and a sense of humor. Such people are filled with life energy, and this is reflected in their completed work - it will invigorate them and others.

With such an inspirational idea, the production of handbags began in ARTBURO. In 2014, the Wintour bag was released, these women’s bag was modelled after the drawings of Leonardo da Vinci. It combines the great inventor’s legacy, modernity and character of the woman in whose honor it was named. Anna Wintour is the permanent editor of American Vogue, a legendary figure in the fashion world, and one of the most influential. Reflecting such a character and personality strength is quite tricky, but ARTBURO did it. The result of the work was an exquisite handbag, which is made exclusively on the client's request in classic black, white and red. The texture of the skin is picked by the client. The most intriguing point of interest is the handle, which is turned and covered with metal color at the request of the customer.

In general, personalization now is one of the freshest trends in fashion. With the development of globalization and mass production, people lose their individuality and style. And now even the price of goods is now not always a guarantee of uniqueness. Therefore, well-known brands, including Louis Vuitton, Dior, Hermes, often collaborate with renowned specialists who reinterpret classical forms in a modern way by personalizing them.

Now envision that you have the chance to turn into an artist yourself and create your own history – that is transform into that one in a million. A similar item, for instance, a bag of Hermes, Chanel, Dior will never exist again, it will only belong to you. You are only constrained by your imagination.

This is the answer to the question of how not to get lost in the world of indistinguishable trends, even the most expensive or exclusive ones. The question is how to find yourself and express your vision and how to become an artist and creator of something absolutely amazing and unique. Without a doubt, in each of us, there is that small inventive outbreak from which we draw a mind-blowing vitality to create something big and grand.

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