Any valentines headcanons for Victor and Yuuri? Like how they spend it together or if some fan sent anything crazy in the past (Yuuri sending Victor things every year but being too embarrassed to write his name as the sender??)
“Wait, someone actually sent you their used panties?” Yuuri has no idea what kind of a face he’s making, but he hopes it does the sheer disgust he’s feeling justice, because what is wrong with people?
Victor laughs. “On more than one occasion. Most of the time Yakov just sent them to the incinerator.”
“’Most of the time’?”
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answered,” Victor says, horrifyingly, then brightens. “I didn’t get to keep any of the chocolates people gave me—for safety reasons, you know—but the plushies were mine to do whatever with. I usually gave them away to sick kids.”
He remembers. It was SKATING’s December 2003 issue cover story. Victor had been in a white doctor’s jacket smiling wide while the two children he had tucked under each arm flashed peace signs. Stuffed animals were strewn across the floor around them like fallen soldiers. He’d taped it into his cubby at Ice Palace until Takeshi joked that they should beat Yuuri up so Victor would come visit him in the hospital. Yuuri seriously considered it.
“I can’t believe you kept some of this stuff,” Yuuri marvels, holding up an actual wedding invitation. You are cordially invited to the marriage of Victor Nikiforov and Joanne Spiers…
Yuuri gently places it back into the box. Well, chucks it back in, more like.
“Oh! Let me show you my favorite one!” Victor nudges him out of the way to rummage around, eventually coming up with a little blue envelope with a sticker that’s faded with time and oddly shaped. Yuuri squints at it, trying to place it, when it hits him. He goes very, very still.
“I think I was… maybe 16 when I got this one? It was the sweetest letter I’d ever received.” Victor sighs wistfully and cradles the envelope to his chest as though it were precious, spun glass and lace, before handing it over.
If Yuuri’s hands shake a little as he undoes the katsudon sticker on the backflap and slides the piece of notebook paper out, Victor doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he notches his chin onto Yuuri’s shoulder to read it along with him.
It’s a little yellow, but the faded images of sakura still comes through behind shaky, painstaking Cyrillic penned to fill the page.
You are the greatest skater in the whole wide world. I am a skater too but I am only 12 years old and I am still learning. I did a triple axel for the first time yesterday! I hope you are proud. Someday I would like to hold your hand and skate with you. We could do a triple axel together. Please wait for me.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
“I wanted to write back, but they didn’t leave a name or a return address,” Victor says softly, reaching around Yuuri to brush reverent fingers over the page. “Even with the terrible translation, it was the most genuine expression of love I’d ever seen at that time. I brought that letter with me everywhere I went, hoping I might catch a glimpse of that kid in the crowd, or even on the ice. Whoever it was, I hope they continued to skate. I really would’ve liked to have skated with them.”
The boxy letters swim and blur, spreading out until they’re vague blobs, and when Yuuri blinks to clear it, the page is wet. “It wasn’t terrible.”
Turning in Victor’s arms, Yuuri beams up at him through his tears. “The translation. It wasn’t terrible. Vasiliev-sensei at Ice Palace wrote it out for me and I spent hours practice-copying it to make sure it was perfect.”
He can see the moment realization dawns, because Victor’s furrowed brow ripples and smoothes out, jaw dropping almost into Yuuri’s lap. “You—”
The world tilts dangerously and skews when he’s tackled onto his back, and Yuuri laughs up at the ceiling as Victor presses frantic kisses to his mouth, his neck, the swells of his cheeks and the sides of his nose. He shakes with a giddy sort of joy, drowning under a wave of relief nearly fifteen years in the making, and reaches up to palm Victor’s face—a little older, a little more mature, but still the greatest skater in the whole wide world who was everything to a little boy once. Even more now as a man.
“Thank you for waiting for me,” Yuuri murmurs, then leans up and meets Victor halfway.
I hate this new thing where makeup companies come out with makeup that’s supposed to make you look like you have no makeup on like “Our new (x) gives you that ‘no makeup look’ that everyone loves right now! Like when did “no makeup” stop meaning not wearing any makeup and start meaning doing your makeup a certain way like kids are looking at models and celebrities’ “no makeup looks” and wondering why they don’t look like that and it’s because they literally have on a full face of makeup. Like why are girls expected to wear makeup even when they’re “not wearing makeup”?
It took twenty minutes to lull Rosie back into a sound sleep. She was drowsy from the medicine, which helped, but she was clearly still feeling the effects of the fever, and the first couple of times John tried to lay her back down she woke back up with a miserable cry. Honestly, John thought as he held her close and walked her around the room, she might as well be Sherlock’s daughter if her appalling timing was anything to go by.
He was torn between feeling grateful and regretful at her interruption. He had still been able to feel Sherlock’s warmth clinging to him as he’d climbed the stairs to get her, but it had dissipated more and more every second like steam rising from the surface of a pond on a cold day, lovely and impossible to hold on to. But maybe it was better this way; maybe they needed a few moments to cool off, to map out this new territory before they lost themselves in it.
He sighed and pressed his lips to Rosie’s head, hushing her with soothing words. She turned her head into his shoulder, sniffling, and let her eyes close, one fist clutching at the worn collar of his t-shirt. Music drifted up through the floorboards, the delicate notes of Sherlock’s violin wending their way through the flat.
John smiled; he recognized the tune. He didn’t know the name of it, but it was what Sherlock always played when Rosie couldn’t sleep. He’d been meaning to ask if it was one of Sherlock’s own compositions because it resembled a lullaby, but it wasn’t one John had ever heard before. The thought alone made John ache to return downstairs and finish what they’d started.
Rosie’s breathing slowly evened out, deep and steady, as Sherlock’s music drifted around them, and John gently lowered her back down into her crib; she sighed and curled up around her blanket but didn’t wake. John held onto the edge of the crib and watched her a moment longer, strangely nervous all of a sudden. Which was ridiculous, he thought, since he knew that the only thing awaiting him downstairs was what he’d always wanted.
But perhaps that was just it. He and Sherlock had never been able to get to this place before; there had always been something standing between them, death and marriage and chaos keeping them apart. And now that he was here, now that this new life was his to take…he was afraid he wouldn’t know how to keep it.
He shut his eyes, breathing in and out, attempting to calm the rapid beating of his heart. When he was sure he wasn’t going to lose it, he pushed away from Rosie’s crib and took the stairs with slow, even steps.
Hey! I have a concept for a blurb :) Harry going to his favourite coffee (or smoothie) shop - it was his post-work out ritual (along with sitting down and reading the paper or catching up on a book he was read or something). All the seats are taken so he asks to join (Y/N), who is very concentrated on studying for their law or sociology exam.
This is very cute! I tweaked it just a *tiny* bit. I hope you like it! x
He follows the routine he’s mastered to a tee over the past 6 years as he shuts the car door and fumbles with the keys in his pocket to lock it with a beep.
Head down, hands in his pockets, don’t engage.
It’s still fairly early in the morning, with the cold morning chill lingering in the air as he shuffles towards the pay-as-you-go parking meter and jabs at the cold metal with his fingers.
Once it beeps in affirmation, he steps onto the sidewalk and makes his way towards the familiar smoothie shop. It’s a quaint little place, especially at this time of the morning. A shop that reminded Harry much of the bakery back home in Cheshire. A small, close knit staff that always gave him a beaming smile and never pushed him for more than they would with a regular customer. Although they were well aware of who exactly their regular visitor was.
It was rare that he wasn’t papped, well, anywhere. But the smoothie shop was the one place he hadn’t been managed to be tracked down to- and for that he was beyond grateful.
It had become sort of a routine, an early morning workout followed by a smoothie, long before anyone was up in the bustling town of LA. A relaxed sit back before the sun made it’s appearance and the day was well on its way.
And although the smoothies were delicious, they weren’t all that kept him coming back. He liked having a secluded place in his new hometown. A secret of his own. It was rare, and it was something he cherished.
He hadn’t run into a single fan at the shop either; not that he would rejoice over it. He loved them, and that was something that would never change- but he couldn’t help but relish in the fact that he hadn’t stumbled across a set of starstruck wide eyes accompanied with a meek raise of their phone.
He pulls the door open to the shop and is instantly greeted by the organic smell of it. The walls are painted a light shade of yellow, not too bright but more welcoming than you’d think.
The old lady behind the counter with a pink apron on looks up and smiles warmly at him as he takes his hood off and heads towards the counter.
“Hi darling. Your usual?” She asks with a crinkled smile as she moves towards the blenders along the back wall.
“That’d be lovely, thank yeh,” Harry replies with a dimpled grin.
The old fashioned sentiment was something the lady had used for Harry from the day he had first shuffled into the little shop. It reminded him of home, of the way he felt people should address each other- with kindness and affection. It wasn’t something you came across often in Los Angeles.
He crosses his ankles and leans back against the wall as he watches her add his familiar ingredients to the blender: a healthy serving of kale and just the slightest touch of coconut.
She pushes the top on the blender before she turns back to him, “Paper should be on one of the tables.”
“Right, thank yeh,” he replies with a laugh.
She’s well aware of his routine too.
He turns as the blender switches on and scans the shop, looking for the paper when he realizes that he’s not the only customer there.
There’s a girl in the far corner booth, obliviously tucked away with her lip caught between her teeth as her concentrated eyes scan across the cluttered table top. She’s got headphones on and a pair of glasses sitting squarely on her face, pen twirling in her fingers and the other hand lifting a paper to find the one she’s looking for.
Harry tilts her head at her in interest, watching her as she continues. She’s lifting papers and tossing them aside after a quick scan, eyes wild and narrowed on her pursuit. She lifts the big text book that’s sitting to her right and runs her finger along the side of it, feeling for any pages that are sticking out.
Her brows are furrowed in concentration as she presses her index finger to the page her book is open to before she lifts it’s cover and brushes aside stray uncapped highlighters, looking through the stack of papers underneath it.
He can practically see the light bulb go off when her eyes do a double take and she grins triumphantly, grabbing the paper and pulling it out of the pile with a hardy tug.
She scribbles something on the sheet in front of her before dropping her pen with a small thunk to the table. She sighs deeply, a sigh that even from this far away Harry can see shake her entire body. It’s a sigh he knows too well, one of frustration- of exhaustion.
She presses her hands to her face, sliding them under her glasses with a huff. He’s wondering if she’s crying, but a moment later she rubs her eyes and readjusts her glasses before reaching for her smoothie and taking a long sip of it, eyes closed.
She sets it down and grabs a hair tie from her wrist, swinging her hair into a makeshift quick ponytail, a few strands of her hair still lose and framing her face before she cracks her knuckles and picks her pen up again.
She’s got a new look on her face- one of complete determination and focus and Harry is more intrigued than ever at the process he’s just wittnessed. With cameras on him all the time, he’s become much more observant- perhaps out of obligation, but after what he just witness, he’s not sure he minds.
“She’s been here since we opened,” a voice says suddenly, pulling Harry away from his gaze.
He turns to see the old lady holding out his smoothie, peering over his shoulder at the girl.
“S’tha’ right?” Harry asks thickly, glancing back at her.
She hums a response and Harry takes the smoothie from her with a quick thank you, before he his tennis shoe clad feet carry him back towards the girl.
He grabs a paper from one of the tables before and stands in front of her table, watching as her eyes scan across the page of her book.
He’s tenative, a bit guilty too, because she’s obviously busy. He rocks back and forth on the soles of his shoes for a moment, but it’s not quick enough because she is glancing up at him with eyes that are fiery and determined.
She blinks at him, once and then twice as she sits up a bit. Her head phones are still in and the pen has fallen slack in her hand and Harry wonders if she’s recognized him. He hasn’t seen the usual indications-widening of the eyes or the slight gape of her jaw. She licks her lips and pulls her headphones out slowly, letting them clunk to the table.
Harry speaks up, clearing his throat, “ ‘Lo there, mind if I sit with yeh?”
Her eyebrows furrow together and he can sense that she’s doing a quick scan of the empty shop so he speaks up, “I can sit somewhere else, if yeh want. S’no big deal, love.”
Her eyes widen at the pet name, and she shakes her head before speaking in a rushed tone, “No, no, no. It’s just wh- nevermind, sorry it’s a bit of a mess.”
She’s tripping over her words as she reaches across the table, brushing her carefully stacked papers aside carelessly.
Harry smirks a bit, she’s flustered and he’d be lying if he didn’t find her adorable. “S’alright, you’re fine.” He mumbles, scooting into the bench across from her.
He gives a beaming smile as he lifts his smoothie to his mouth and takes a sip, flattening out the newspaper and lifting in in front of his face.
She’s staring at him inquisitively, head tilted slightly to the side before she sighs again and goes back to her work.
He’s observing her, in a way that would regularly make his own skin itch- over the edge of the newspaper.
She’s got her head resting against her palm as she scribbles notes from her textbook to her paper. The loose strands from her ponytail are falling onto her page as her hand scrawls across it, and she keeps lifting her head a bit to let them fall aside before she continues. She’s holding the same focus she had before his interruption and Harry’s surprised she hasn’t reached for her phone; nor her headphones again.
His eyes drift from the newspaper to her notes that are a few feet away, observing how her handwriting is messy, yet elegant across the pages. They’re color coded, vibrant and as lovely as she is.
He turns the page to remain inconspicuous when he sees her shift around in her seat a little.
It’s like this for some time- they same easy quietness Harry admires about the shop with the new, occasional rustle of her papers or his newspaper.
That is, until he here’s the slurping sound of an empty cup.
His eyes dart up from the newspaper, glancing at her.
She’s got the straw caught between her lips, eyes focused on the pages in front of her as she sips at the empty cup again only to be met with the sound of the same slurp from earlier.
“S’empty, love,” he says, folding the newspaper and setting it down.
Her face crinkles together in confusion at his words, nose scrunching up as if he too was taking apart of her studying before she realizes that’s not it at all.
She releases the straw from her mouth and the cup drums onto the table with a thunk. She’s embarrassed, glancing at the cup and then back at him with a sly smile.
“Lemme get yeh another,” he says, turning over his shoulder and calling to the girl worker who has replaced the old woman from earlier.
When he turns back she’s frowning at him, a deep pressed frown that makes his heart thump wildly.
“You didn’t have to do that.” She says firmly.
He nods, leaning back against the bench and shoving his hands into his sweatshirt pocket, “I know tha’. Say m’contributing t’your effort.”
She simply blinks at him in response, before pushing her glasses up to her nose. She swallows a bit before setting her pen down and leaning back herself, “Thank you, that was really sweet of you.”
He grins, “S’no problem, love. M’Harry.”
She laughs at that, shaking her head as more of her silky hair falls out of the loose ponytail.
“What’s funny?” He asks, puckering his lips in curiosity.
“It’s just, god, of course I know who you are.” She says with a squeaky voice, lifting her phone up and turning it towards him.
He squints at the screen and chuckles a bit, recognizing the album cover fondly, “Glad we could help yeh study…” He squints at her notes, wondering what exactly it is she’s been immersed in.
“It’s boring, really. You wouldn’t like it.” She says, shaking her head as she looks around at her mess with embarrassment.
“Try me, love.” Harry says with a grin.
And although the sun is rising beyond the windows behind her, Harry feels perfectly content breaking his routine for once- especially if it means he gets to be here with her.
Pairing : DeanxReader, Sam Word count : 1,625 Author : Mel
A/N : this is what happens when I have to pee at 4am, and my kid’s radio is playing “Say my name.” by Destiny’s Child.
You were sitting on the edge of the bed staring at the floor and trying to keep your nerve when the Impala pulled in outside. You waited quietly and patiently for them to come into the room. You hoped they didn’t get hurt on this hunt, or your nerve would be gone. Holding your breath as their boots came loser to the door, you glanced up as it finally opened and Dean walked in smiling, with Sam behind him.
“Hey baby.” Dean grinned at you. Both boys looked unhurt, which gave you a sense of relief for just a moment, but you didn’t miss how Sam instantly furrowed his brows at the sight of you.
Since I accidentally started this whole “Anti with glasses” thing, I decided I would write a little something about it. Also, this is based off of something @markired sent me and I guess there’s some Danti implied in here? Take it as you will, whether that’s platonic or romantic.
Also, it’s past 2am here. I tried and I’m an amateur writer.
Anyway, Enjoy! x
Anti needs glasses.
Just like Jack, he needs a pair to see things in the distance.
However, his eyesight is worse. That
being said, he needs a pair that is stronger than the ones Jack already has and
needs to get himself his own pair. He doesn’t like it – oh, he hates having to wear glasses, but contacts
drive him up the damn walls so they are out of the question. He thinks they
make him look nerdy and less intimidating.
No one except Anti knows that he needs them. He acts like he
can see the world crystal clear when in reality, he can hardly see the street
signs. It isn’t exactly a good thing when it comes to executing kills because
his precision is off and he often misses his shots. This in turn frustrates
Dark because he hired the guy to do the dirty work and he’s missing the target –
what the fuck?
After nearly losing a seventh victim that month, Dark finally
approaches Anti about it.
“Anti, the execution of your kills hasn’t been… extraordinary lately. Is there a reason
“No,” Anti grumbles, crossing his arms along his chest, “n’
quit questionin’ my killing methods. You won’t even do the kills
yerself so don’t be complainin’.”
Anti proceeds to plop himself down on their couch, flipping
himself so he’s upside down. His feet hang off the top and his head is hanging
off the seat, watching his hair fall back and dangle in the open. It’s evident
that he doesn’t want to talk about the subject any further.
But since when does Dark ever really care about Anti’s
A deep hum vibrates through Dark’s chest as he scrutinises
the green-haired male, completely disregarding his attempt at an insult.
Anti, who’s fully aware he’s being watched, lifts his head to lock eyes with
Dark. He squints them dangerously.
“The fuck are ye lookin’ at?” he spits out.
“You need glasses, don’t you?” Dark suddenly says,
straightening his posture and canting his head to the side, “that’s why you’re
having trouble executing kills properly and squinting at everything. You can’t
“I can see fine!” Anti barks, pushing himself back up onto
the couch and propping himself up with his elbows. His slightly sharper teeth
become more evident as he scowls at Dark.
“Oh, is that so? In that case, I suppose you won’t have any
trouble telling me what that sign across the street says?” Dark lifts a brow as
he points out the window at a little yellow sign with bold black letters on it.
Anti looks over his shoulder at the sign and almost visibly
pales. There’s no way he can read that.
It’s just far enough for the letters to be too blurry to read. They just look
like a black cloud on a yellow sign.
“I don’t need to prove myself to an old man,” Anti sneers,
huffing and sliding off the couch. Before Dark can bring up the subject again,
the green-haired male storms off into another room somewhere in the house,
slamming the door shut behind him.
“Idiot,” Dark sighs, deciding to let the topic go for the
A week passes by after that and yet another nearly failed
kill. Dark didn’t get frustrated this time because he now knows the source of
the problem, he just has to find out how to fix it. Even though he finds it
absolutely ridiculous to have to
chase after Anti for being a big baby who’s in complete denial, if it will help
his case then he is more than willing.
That, and teasing Anti is just so much fun.
“Is it because you don’t like glasses? There are certainly
contacts out there that you could use,” Dark suddenly inquires over dinner one
Anti freezes in his movements and peers up at his friend, a
look of annoyance on his face. He grits his teeth and gives Dark the silent
“Even so, anything is better than being partially blind, don’t
you think?” the other continues, slowly enjoying his meal as though his friend’s
annoyance was nothing but a speck of dust on his shoulder for him to brush off.
There’s a moment of silence between the two. The only sound
in the entire room is that of their utensils against their plates. Anti stops
eating for a minute and simply sits there, picking at the meat in front of him.
“Don’t be stupid, Dark, I can’t wear glasses. I’m not a
nerd,” Anti scoffs, eyes stuck to his plate, “n’ fuck contacts, those little
shits are annoying as all fuck.”
Dark doesn’t say anything after that but instead just lifts
his eyes to look at the man sitting across from him at the table. He almost
wants to laugh at Anti’s comment but refrains from doing so. His mind is at
work throughout the rest of the meal.
After that night, Dark eventually goes through the torturous
process of discovering Anti’s prescription. It takes almost a full week before
he gets the results but when he does, he feels more victorious than he has in
quite some time.
And he decides to get Anti some glasses.
Dark is seated in his favorite chair one evening, relaxing
while enjoying a good book. However, he’s having trouble concentrating on the
letters in front of him. A disheartened sigh escapes his lips at the
realisation that he won’t be able to continue.
Suddenly, a familiar voice makes its way through the once
“DARK, WHAT THE FUCK ARE THESE!?” Anti hollers from his
bedroom. Dark can’t help the smug grin that spreads across his lips.
“They’re glasses, Anti. Try them on,” Dark urges, his tone
calm compared to the other.
There’s a series of quick footsteps that grow louder as Anti
approaches. Dark turns his head towards the open doorway to see Anti storming
in, eyes practically glowing with annoyance.
“I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU THAT I DIDN’T WANT ‘EM. I LOOK LIKE A
FUCKIN’ NERD, DARK!” He yells, the pair of black glasses in his hand. His other
is balled into a fist, practically drawing blood from how tightly it’s closed. “DON’T
YOU LISTEN TO ME!?”
In a fit of childish annoyance, Anti lifts his hand with the
glasses held tightly between his fingers. In the split second it takes for Dark
to realise what’s about to happen, Anti’s hand comes toward the ground in full
Dark has never moved so fast in his life. It’s as though he’s
a shadow, glitching from his spot in the chair to Anti’s side. Dark’s large
hand grips Anti’s wrist tightly, preventing him from throwing the glasses onto
the ground and breaking them. His nearly black eyes seem to flash red for a
“YoU wiLL nOt breAK tHeSE, unDersTOoD?”
Dark’s voice is deep, harsh and slicing. Like the biting
cold of winter, it nips at Anti’s childish conscience and fills him with fear.
His hot breath tickles Anti’s ear and he shivers, eyes widening in realisation
at what he was about to do and how pissed
Dark is now. The hold on Anti’s wrist is bone crushing and the green-haired male
grits his teeth.
Dark slowly releases Anti’s wrist and brings his hand back
to his side. After taking in a slow breath, he looks Anti in the eyes with an
“Now, try them on,” he tries again, his voice much softer
Anti is still hesitant and it shows. He glances down at the
glasses in his hand with an expression of disgust. Dark rolls his eyes – he’s
losing his patience.
“Anti, wearing glasses does not make you a nerd,” Dark says
deeply, reaching over to a small table next to his chair. On it sits a pair of
glasses which Anti has surprisingly never seen before. Dark slides them onto
his face and pushes them up his nose gracefully with his finger. “See?”
Anti blinks wordlessly at Dark. His eyes are wide and are
scanning Dark’s face over and over again. He’s never seen this before and Dark
isn’t able to tell whether this reaction is good or bad.
“Now you really look like an old man, Dark,” Anti giggles,
the sound echoing around him and layering over itself.
Dark’s brows rise and his jaw sets. “Anti, you prick, I’m
“But you’re okay-lookin’ for an old man, I guess,” he then
shrugs, a smug smirk on his face.
Dark’s anger and the compliment swirl inside of him and he
shuts his mouth, muttering some profanities under his breath. He looks away for
nothing but a second and when his eyes return to meet Anti’s, he’s met with a
sight he never thought he would see.
Anti is wearing his glasses.
“You don’t look too bad yourself, kiddo,” he says, the
corner of his lips twitching up into a smile.
Anti shrugs off the compliment and quickly takes the glasses
“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbles as he walks off to his room.
Dark, now feeling satisfied, sits back down into his chair and resumes his reading –
he can see the words much better now.
Both Dark and Anti begin to wear their glasses more often now,
even when they don’t necessarily need them.
Did someone say angsty one way communication. Okay, it’s not texting but I’m SO your girl for angsty one way communication! This one is classic rip your heart out and duct tape it back together with glitter glue. Enjoy :)
“I don’t know if you can hear me, but I’m trying to get back home to you, and I won’t ever stop until I do.”
His hand dropped, grip still tight around the shell as he turned back to Ariel.
“Ariel, is there any chance-”
“I’m sorry, Captain. Unless you can hold your breath for… I mean I’m a fast swimmer but not that fast.”
“But you could reach Storybrooke? Would you ensure that my message was received?” She nodded and he felt a weight lift from his shoulders. “Thank you Ariel. This, this means more to me than I could ever hope to describe.”
When they reached the water’s edge she reached around her neck and unclasped her necklace, her tail reappeared as she dove into the cloudy water. No sooner had her tail passed beyond his view there was a bright light and a wave came crashing back towards the shore, Ariel caught in its tow.
“Ariel!” Hook dove forward, catching her arm before she was pulled back under. She was fumbling with something around her neck and soon she’d two legs under her again.
“You were out of my sight for no more than a moment, you couldn’t possibly have-”
I’m sorry, Captain. I’ve made the trip to Storybrooke countless times now but this time… I couldn’t break through. It was like the fury of a storm pushing back against me.
“So the ways are shut to you? Have you ever experienced such a thing before? Has something happened to the town?”
“No, It was more… more like reaching a locked door than an empty room.”
“Thank you for trying, Ariel. Perhaps another way…” He reluctantly handed her the seashell but she shook her head.
“Keep it. Talk to her sometimes. Maybe she missed your first message, so tell her again.”
He nodded and within moments she was no more than a ripple on the surface of the water.
“Emma? Ariel tried to reach Storybrooke, to ensure that you knew the truth but she was unable to pass. I hope you’re safe. I never meant to leave you. I’m trying to come home. I love you.”
She had clasped the shell around her neck hours ago, in the hopes of catching his voice again, and now she’d heard the message a dozen times. Each time a flare of anger rose up in her and she finally glared up at Gideon. “You’re telling me that instead of asking for my help in defeating the apparent source of all Evil, you thought it made the most sense to kidnap my true love and hold him for ransom? Did it occur to you for even a moment that I might have been more willing to help you before you tried to kill me and ripped my true love away?”
“Tell you my plan when you could have chosen to stop me? I’ve worked too hard for this to let it rest on the whim of another.”
“Let me talk to him,” she insisted, putting down what she had been working on suddenly.
“Not until you help me to-”
“No,” Emma interrupted. “Keep him trapped in another realm, fine. It will hurt me like hell but it won’t get you a single step closer to your goal. You need me. But until I’m sure that it is really him, that you haven’t killed him and recorded this message somehow, I’ll not so much as help you resolve a parking violation.”
A/N: I guess I’ll be nice and give you guys a part 2….which also means there will be a part 3 I guess lmao! Enjoy this little backstory!!! Part 3 will be better I promise! Unbeta’d so any mistake is my own!! Feedback is gratefully appreciated!!!
Jensen sat in his trailer with his elbows lying against the tops of his knees, his hands covering his face. The voices of the police and Jared were being blocked out as he thought back to when James was one of his good friends. Making fun of each other, having parties at the other’s house, taking care of each other when they got super drunk. He was a good friend to depend on up until the moment Jensen got the girl and he didn’t.
It all started when James saw you, the girl he had previously asked out on a date and got denied, underneath the arm of Jensen, one of his best friends, at a bar. The two of you were laughing and having a great time, not a care in the world. Jensen brought his beer up to his mouth which in turn brought you closer to his body. When he set his beer down on the table he turned to you with one arm wrapped around your waist and the other going back around your shoulders as his lips touched yours. James was seeing red and he was completely infuriated, his mind coming up with unreal scenarios as to why Jensen was with the girl he liked. The most convincing one being because Jensen was better looking and could steal any girl he wanted.
What he didn’t know and put together was that Jensen could have possibly been the guy you said you were currently with when you denied his date offer. James let his rage get the better of him as he stormed up to Jensen and gave him a nice shove, causing the two of you to break your heated little makeout session and Jensen to knock over the contents of the table next to him.
“James, what the fuck man?”
James pointed to you and raised your eyebrows at Jensen, “Are you doing this on purpose you asshole?! You knew I asked her out why are you with her!?”
“Whoa dude…wait…you asked my girlfriend out?” Jensen brow scrunched together as he stepped up to James, not really happy that it happened in the first place.
“G-girlfriend…?” James’ eyes went wide as he looked over to you for confirmation.
You nodded and bit your lip, “Yeah girlfriend. Hun do you remember why I turned down your offer yesterday? I told you I just recently got into a relationship, I didn’t know that you and Jay were friends or I would have told you.”
“No no..that’s okay, why would he mention me anyway?”
“James…dude come on. Look some of her friends are here tonight, maybe we could hook you up with one of them, huh?” Jensen tried to lighten the mood as he tapped lightly on James’ chest taking you back underneath his arm with a giant grin on his face.
James just shook his head, if he couldn’t have you then there was no point, “I’m just gonna go home.”
Jensen called out his name a couple more times until James was out of the bar completely. He ran his hands through his hair and took a couple deep breaths. He was angry at Jensen for stealing yet again the one girl he really liked. In his mind, even though he only met you in a clothing store he felt attached immediately he wanted you as his and it made total sense. He swore he was going to get you one way or the other.
A few years later when you and Jensen announced your engagement that made James go through the roof. He still wasn’t entirely sure why you were with Jensen in the first place, there was no way you could be happy when you weren’t with him.
So instead of handling it like a normal person would and talk it over, he stormed your engagement party and made himself look like an ass. When Jensen fought back after James threw the first punch that’s when Clif and Jared barged in the middle. Jared grabbed Jensen and Clif grabbed James. As James was being dragged out he was repeatedly screaming that the two of you would see him again someday, that you haven’t seen the last of him.
James waited till everyone was settled again before watching through the window as you took a wet towel and started to clean up Jensen’s lip where James had got a good hit. Rolling his eyes he turned around making his way back down the street to his car, already planning the revenge he would take upon the two of you for ruining everything.
“Huh? What?” Jensen was finally brought out of his thoughts when Jared shook his shoulder and called his name out a few times.
“I asked if there is anything else that they may need to know about James?”
Jensen stood up and wiped a hand down his face, “All I know is that he’s fucking psychotic and he’s going to be dead once I find him and my family. This shit has gone on long enough!” Jensen’s voice got louder towards the end there and moved to pour himself a drink.
Someone knocked on the door the exact moment Jensen knocked back the drink he just poured, it was another officer, “Sir…we’ve traced the call from your cell phone. We know where they are.”
“Sir maybe you shoul-”
Jensen balled his fist up and shut his eyes, “So help me God, if you tell me that I should stay back while that maniac has my wife and my child held hostage…” Jensen took a deep breath trying to somewhat relax himself, “Where are they?”
The officer showed him the address and Jensen entered it into his phone before he turned to the police chief, a finger pointed to his chest, “You better be right behind me because if you’re not…I’m going to end up killing him.”
Theo nott and hermione granger??????? Like seventh year after the war???????
hermione is, like, really tired.
like, she’s been fighting the good fight for what feels like a thousand years, right, and she saved the world, she knows that, she’s proud of that, proud of herself and harry and ron and everyone–but it turns out that running for her life and watching people die and dealing with the ensuing emotional fallout is incredibly draining, and she’s just. she’s tired.
so, she goes back to hogwarts to finish her education, yes, but also to take a nap.
she does not have a contingency plan for theodore nott.
tall, lanky, quiet theodore nott, who’s always checking out the really complicated books on magical theory, and whose tie is always slightly too loose around his neck, and whose hands are big, and elegant, and surprisingly graceful as he takes meticulously detailed notes in the kind of shorthand that hermione has only dreamed about having the time to develop–
theodore nott is sly, and theodore nott is smart, and theodore nott is a slytherin.
she sits next to him in ancient runes, and she marvels at his indifference. he barely glances at her. he doesn’t ask her what it was like, or badger her for information about harry, or do anything at all besides solve equations and absently brush the underside of his jaw with the feathered end of his quill.
“it’s a bit weird, isn’t it?” she asks him one day, tapping her foot against the leg of her desk. “being back here? with the war over?”
he furrows his brow, tongue flicking out to rest on his lower lip as he considers how to respond. “the war,” he says, and then pauses. “it…happened, i suppose.”
he continues, blandly, “did you get an answer for the last problem set? i figured a zero, but that doesn’t seem right.”
she blinks again.
her smile, when it finally comes, feels so incredibly light.