#/actually gonna do a lot of writing tomorrow my muses are strong

[wiildcardd]

Before I sign off for the night, I would just like to let y’all know that I have like 8777732 different aus for zoya, in one of them she’s literally the wolverine to bai yi’s deadpool albeit even more gay...

also i have a ZoYi meta tomorrow so i hope you all will enjoy that read, i have big zoyi brainrot because of a certain someone and i don’t think that’s leaving anytime soon... 

[starlightxsvt]

Home | k.mg

pairing ➳ businessman!mingyu x female!reader

genre ➳ strangers to lovers, romance, slice of life, angst, fluff, gets spicy at the end

word count ➳ 5.6k (apx)

warnings ➳ cursing, reader is really indecisive, heavy makeout, implications of sexual activity.

synopsis ➳ an attractive stranger visits your cabin for a week with whom you quickly bond, developing some strong feelings in the process; leaving you to wonder if he's worth leaving everything behind.

A/N: henlooo~ I finally posted! This has been sitting in my drafts for a while but I didn't really feel like writing for a while, hence the delay. I hope y'all enjoy this piece and please don't forget to leave some feedback! It really motivates me :)

A cool gust of wind blew by as you finished typing your last column, leaving a soothing feeling behind as you exhaled loudly. It was hard to finish this piece of writing for some reason, maybe because you lacked inspiration or maybe because your life had been monotonous for a while or simply, a mix of both. Closing your laptop you stretch your hands and legs, feeling somewhat productive. Humming a tune, you looked out the window to see a Lamborghini come to a halt at the entrance.

It piqued your interest because it's not often that people riding Lamborghini come in this cabin so genuinely you're interested in the visitor. You shifted in your chair, waiting for the man to come upstairs to the reception and sure enough a tall- really tall man dressed in a neatly pressed suit appears into your view, briskly walking towards the reception where Chan stood to greet him. You could not get a good look at his face as he moved around quickly, grabbing his small carry on and heading towards his cabin after the formalities.

You watched his tall frame walking away as you got up from your seat and moved towards Chan.

"Who is he?"

"Kim Mingyu," Chan explained, resting his arms on the reception table." A millionaire, owns a lot of companies. No wonder he looked familiar."

"Oh, really? How long is he staying?"

"He has booked for five days. Said he might extend his stay."

"I see."

"Why are you so curious though?" Chan raised a brow at you, tilting his head to a side.

"Nothing." You shrugged. "He just has different vibes than the other people that come here you know?"

Chan hummed in agreement.

-

There was never much visitors during the rainy season which was both a blessing and a curse. Blessing because that meant the cabin was less hectic and curse because sometimes you are bound to get a bit too bored. You were helping yourself with a cup of tea to somewhat feel re-energised when your newest and the only guest for the week appeared from his cabin, padding through the corridor and stepping into the common kitchen area. You were taken aback for a moment before you composed yourself and smiled at your guest, "Good morning, Mr. Kim. May I help you with anything?"

"Mingyu, please," the tall male replied while scanning the kitchen area. "You're the owner right? What's the food arrangement here?"

"Well, our guests generally cook for themselves or order takeout. When there are many guests I sometimes do the cooking."

Nodding, he hummed before putting in a capsule in the cappuccino machine. You took a seat by the window, tea in your hand as you watched the male move around like he knew this place. Dressed in his pajamas and judging by the fluffy mess that his hair was you assumed he had a good night's sleep.

"I hope you had a pleasant night, Mr- Mingyu." You said to your guest who had whipped out a pan from the cupboard and was making omelette. "Yes, surprisingly so. Normally I have trouble falling asleep but I slept like a baby last night," he casually conversed as he prepared his breakfast.

You smiled, "Well, I'm glad to know that. If you need anything let my staffs or me know."

"Sure. Oh- I didn't get your name though." Mingyu turned to meet your eyes.

"___," you smiled.

"___, okay."

-

"This is gonna be a rainy week," Hoshi said from behind you as he stood holding a tub of fresh soil for the plants in the backyard of the cabin. You sat on your knees, eyeing the plants which needed their soil changed.

"Yeah? Well, good thing there isn't much guests now."

"I think there should be, I mean it's so pretty here during the rain too. People need to look at it themselves." Hoshi complained.

"Well, most people don't like going out in the rain. Pass me the soil, Hoshi. Let's get this finished before the shower starts."

Hoshi handed you the tub of soil as the sky above started growling, full of thick black clouds. It was gonna start raining soon.

Hoshi spoke, "Oh, Mr.Kim, Mingyu you know, asked me about the beach by the marketplace. Apparently he wants to visit so he asked me if I was free to show him around."

"And let me guess, you aren't?" You rolled your eyes.

Soonyoung pouted, "No! Well I would have given him a tour today if the weather wasn't so bad. And my friends are coming tomorrow, so I'll be busy then."

"Wait- you're friends are coming?" You turned, glaring at the boy who smiles sheepishly, "Oh! Um- I didn't tell you? Well they're only staying for a couple of days and it's not like they're staying for free."

"Well, make sure they clean after themselves okay? If I see them trashing all over the place like last time, I'm kicking you out with them." You gave him a pointed look.

"Okay okay," Hoshi rolled his eyes, puffing his cheeks. "Just- take the CEO out on a tour tomorrow for me okay? I haven't seen my friends in a long time."

"Alright, I will...if the weather is good which probably won't be." You sighed, gently removing the old soil.

Hoshi mused about Mingyu, "Bummer for him, he came in a wrong time. It's weird, no? We don't have such guests like him."

"Yeah," you hummed, focused on handling your roses.

-

Hoshi's friend, Seokmin and Seungkwan appeared early in the morning next day as you watched Hoshi vibrate from happiness when he hugged them. You smiled to yourself, laughing at at the antics of your staff as you saw him guide his friends into their cabin. The day was once again filled with dark clouds and raining which occurred every other hour. You and Chan cleaned up and completed some chores as the noon fell.

"Should I cook something up for them?" You wondered as Chan finished cleaning the common space of the first cabin.

"Nah, Seokmin hyung is cooking for them. He's a pretty good cook actually."

"Really? That's nice." You said pulling up a chair to sit down. "Are you gonna join them? Hoshi has been with his friends since they came."

"Yeah, probably. You should join us too."

"No, I think I'm gonna take a nap. I feel so tired."

"Alright."

You watched as Chan climbed down the stairs and stepped towards the second cabin where everyone else was. You were about to head to your room when the CEO, Mingyu appeared in the kitchen.

"Oh, hello."

"Hi."

"I haven't seen you since morning," you said watching as Mingyu poured himself a glass of water.

"Yeah, I woke up early today, went for a jog."

"Ah, I see."

"Couldn't go far though, the weather sucks you know." He said leaning against the kitchen top.

"Yeah. But I heard that it should get better from tomorrow. I could show you around if you want to. Hoshi, my staff, is going to busy for a while so I can guide you around."

"Really? That would be cool." Mingyu smiled. There was a small stretch of silence as you both listened to the rainfall before he spoke, "Have you had lunch?"

"Uh-no."

"Would you like to join me?" He asked "This is the longest time I've been alone and it feels a bit weird," he murmured more to himself than you.

"I mean- I don't mind," you shrugged. "Though I should be the one doing it."

"It's okay. People say I am a good cook," Mingyu smiled, his eyes crinkling.

"Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to see."

-

It was weird how comfortable you felt watching Mingyu being clumsy and bump into things as he prepared your meal. It felt like you've been doing this forever- like you've known him forever and you thought to yourself what was suddenly wrong with you. He made small talk as he cooked and it felt easy talking with him- almost impossible to believe that he was stranger. He was friendly and easy to get along with, definitely not a cold and grumpy businessman like you imagined him to be.

Mingyu grinned as he set down the food in front of you- chicken soup, rice and cheese omelette. His eyes twinkled excitedly as he watched you take a bite, waiting for you to say something.

"What are you? A part time chef or something?" You tried not to moan as you chewed because it was that good. Mingyu laughed- a sweet, shy laugh that had his canines showing and his eyes forming crescents. "Thank you. I learned from my mom. I like cooking for myself when I get the time which is not often," he smiled- almost sadly.

"Well, you can cook for me all you want as long as you're here because this is amazing!" You grinned at him, cheeks puffed with food.

Mingyu chuckled softly as he dug in and you both started eating. It felt nice, to talk to someone new and spend time with them, someone other than Chan or Hoshi. It was a nice change- a change you probably needed for a while.

"So...What brings you here?" You asked as you finished your food, setting down the spoon and leaning back into the chair. Mingyu who was still eating, looked at you with a perplexed expression so you spoke, "I mean...we don't generally have guests like you. And it's not even a good time to visit...so I was wondering what brought you here?"

"Guests like me? What does that mean?"

"I mean...rich, okay?" You fumbled, feeling awkward. Maybe you shouldn't have asked. "Like...there are fancier places to visit, you know..."

Mingyu smiled at your words for a moment before he deadpanned, "I'm running away."

"Running away?" You gasped, almost jumping from your seat, "From who? The cops?"

"It would have been better but no, my family," he said, his voice as serious as ever.

"Oh...I see," you fell quiet. It definitely wasn't the answer you expected. You both remained silent for a while as he started out the window, lost in thoughts. "It must have been really bad if you're hiding out here." You spoke softly.

"It has always been," he mumbled. "I just couldn't take it anymore, you know? I desperately needed a break," he spoke more to himself than you. Instead of prodding further, you sat quietly, watching him and listening to his words. Seeing him now, he definitely looks troubled and you didn't exactly have the words to console him.

So you whispered, "Well, I hope it gets better."

-

Later that night, you find Hoshi and his friends and Chan preparing for a bonfire in the front yard of the cabin.

"Wow, you all are really having fun, no?" You said as you fisted your hands in your pockets from the chilly weather. The air was colder than other nights and everyone including you had put on some warm clothes.

"You wanna join us?" Seokmin asked as he stacked logs on top of each other.

"Nah, it's fine. You four carry on," you patted his back as you started walking back towards the cabin and saw Chan and Hoshi coming out with some boxes in their hands.

"Hey! There are marshmallows in the kitchen cabinet if you want.... nevermind," you finished as you saw beer cans and soju bottles in their hands.

"We're gonna get drunk baby!" Soonyoung yelled, grinning like a fool.

"Hyung, you look drunk already," Chan gave him a side look as they trudged towards the bonfire.

Laughing at their antics you climbed the stairs to the kitchen, preparing some hot chocolate for yourself. Holding the mug on one hand you knocked on the door to Mingyu's room, checking up on him since you haven't seen him since lunch.

The door opened revealing Mingyu in a baggy shirt and pajamas, his hair fluffy and messy.

"Hey," you chriped. "Wanted to check up on you. You wanna join the others in the bonfire?"

"Nah, I'm good. I've been watching them from the balcony." He smiled, his pointy canines showing.

"Oh, I see."

"You wanna come in? I've been getting lonely." He offered, moving away from the door to make space for you.

"Uh- I don't mind," you murmured, surprised that he asked you to come in. You tentatively stepped in and it was fair to say that you were surprised to see the room neat and pristine as most guests kept their room messy.

He ushered you into the balcony, which had a great view of your yard and the forest behind. You saw others laughing loudly as Soonyoung acted something out. Mingyu's voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

"You didn't join them?"

"Nah, they can get too loud sometimes," you chuckled, taking a seat on the bench. You eyed an empty mug lying by, guessing that Mingyu already had his fill of hot chocolate.

Mingyu took a seat beside you, stretching his legs and sighing as he mused, "The view is great."

You hummed your agreement. It was indeed. Not only did you have the full view of your yard and the forest, but you could see a vast horizon of the night sky, some stars twinkling through the clouds.

"It's even more beautiful during summer. You can see so many stars that it feels unreal." You told him.

"Then I will try to visit again during summer," he smiled and you were not sure if he was serious or joking. However you replied with a smile, "You're always welcome."

A silence falls among you two after that but it's not uncomfortable, as you both watched the night grow and Soonyoung and his friends got louder.

"Things got really hard for me, you know," Mingyu started speaking, his voice soft as he stared at the mesh of trees ahead. You were somewhat surprised at his words, but you didn't interrupt, opting for him to continue.

"Running a million dollar company was never easy but...it suddenly was unbearable. My parents always interfered in my work and how I run the company but I managed through all of that, really...until..." Mingyu heaved a long sigh, abruptly stopping.

"Until?" You tentatively asked, peeking at him.

"They want me to get married. With the daughter of their business partner. A marriage of convenience, really."

Oh.

You fell silent, watching him as the moonlight dimly lit the side of his face. There wasn't enough light to see his face completely, but enough to see the curve of his face, his sharp jawline and the sad, lost look in his eyes. Your heart suddenly ached for him. Silently you patted his shoulder, conjuring up some words to console him.

"That's ...awful, really. I'm sorry."

"I've never been so mad in my whole life. Can't they just leave me alone? They treat me like a puppet, like my only job is to live for them. I'm so done. " He said, his hands forming fists.

There's a beat of silence as you quietly patted his back and watched your friends get wasted by the bonfire before he chuckled softly, "I'm sorry for dumping all these on you. I just couldn't hold them in you know-"

"It's really fine, Mingyu. I don't mind. It would be nice if I could actually help you," you sighed, retracting your hand.

"Trust me, you are," he said and you caught a smile on his face.

"I suppose you don't have a significant other? Someone you could talk to freely?"

He shook his head. "That is why I came here. Needed to get my thoughts together, away from them. Not to mention I don't remember the last time I went on a vacation."

"And have you got your thoughts together?"

"I think so, yeah." He shrugged.

"What are you gonna do?" You asked tilting your head.

"Stand strong in my ground, I guess. There's no way I'm marrying their business partner, I'd rather die. And if all else fails, I'm staying here. I'm sure you have some type of job for me, right?"

You laughed at his words, "Maybe. But I'm not sure about your skills, Mr. Kim."

"Oh I'm a fast learner, Miss ___."

You both grinned at each other.

That night when you went back to your room, your thoughts were plagued by Mingyu and you could swear you saw him in your dreams too.

-

The next morning is brighter and shinier; the sky relatively clear other than some light clouds. After getting dressed and checking up on Hoshi and Chan who were still sleeping, you trudged through the cabin and towards Mingyu's room, before knocking on it. A fully dressed Mingyu appeared, clad in a white polo and jeans, his hair styled messily. He looked effortlessly attractive, making your heart skipp a few beats.

Damn it, what was wrong with you?

"Hi," you almost missed a breath, your face flushed with warmth.

"Oh, hey. I was about to come to you. I believe you were to show me around." Mingyu grinned, his pointy canines showing.

"And that is what I'm here for, Mr. Kim."

"Great! Let's get going. We'll take my car."

-

After showing Mingyu around for a couple of hours, you both ended up at the beach by the marketplace, sitting on the sand next to each other. The weather was nice; not too hot, not too cold as a light breeze flew by occasionally. Though you could see some black clouds gathering above, it wasn't to rain until evening if the forecast was correct.

"This place is so pretty," Mingyu mused, making you smile.

"I know right. The weather is great too."

You both watched the waves crash to the shore, occasionally wetting your feet as you both relaxed on the sand. There was a silence, a comfortable one as you finished eating the corndog you bought from the market earlier with some groceries. As you finished the last bite, Mingyu turned to face you and asked, "Tell me about yourself."

"What?" A squeak of surprise escaped from you.

"I shared a lot about myself last night. It's only fair I get to know about you too."

"Well..." You pondered. "There isn't much to tell. I've a pretty dull life, unlike you."

Mingyu chuckled, shaking his head, "Does the cabin belong to your parents? Is it like a family business type of thing?"

"No, not really," you smiled softly. "My parents are dead. The cabin belonged to my grandfather."

"Oh- I'm sorry."

"No it's okay. They passed away in an accident when I was a kid so I don't remember them much." You spoke, watching the sea, "My grandparents raised me. Growing up I've spent a lot of time in the cabin and when my grandfather retired he handed the job to me."

"Are they alive? Your grandparents?" He asked tentatively.

You shook your head, "Grandpa passed away a couple years ago and it's been a few months since grandma did too."

"I'm sorry, you must've been lonely," Mingyu offered, his voice soft.

You shrugged, "Yeah, like I said, nothing interesting going on in my life."

Mingyu hummed noncommittally and there was a few moments of silence before he spoke again, "Was managing the cabin something you have always wanted to do?"

You were quiet for a while as you thought over the question, "No...not really. I've just kept doing the job I was handed to. I haven't really thought about what I want to do."

"Well...I think you should hire a manager in your place and maybe...I don't come to the city and make friends, see what calls for you."

"Yeah, I've thought about it. But I don't know really." You murmured.

"Well, give it some thought. I could help you find a manager. In fact, I could help promote and upgrade your cabin if you'd let me. It'll be a good investment."

You laughed softly, not taking his words too seriously. He was just a guest. He was probably just being nice.

A gust of strong wind flew by, ruining your hair as it poked into your eyes and you laughed when your eyes landed on Mingyu.

"What?"

His hair was sticking in different directions because of the wind and you shook your head with a smile as you reached to pat the hairs back into place. It happened naturally, before you could stop yourself. For a moment your eyes meet as you quickly retract your hand, face heated.

Something was definitely wrong with you.

Mingyu's gaze stayed at you for a while; you could feel his intense eyes on you and you thought maybe he didn't like you touching him. Before your thoughts ran more rampant, he spoke.

"___?"

"Y-yes?"

"Do you...Do you have a home?"

"Home?" You were confused.

"Yes, home. Not like a real house but like a... person. Someone who makes you feel at ease, someone with whom you can be yourself without judgements, someone who keeps you cozy and safe and loved...like a home."

Somewhat taken aback by his words, you fell silent but their depth hit you and you found yourself thinking about it. Do you have a home?

No. No, you don't.

You shook your head, murmuring, "No."

Mingyu nodded taking his eyes off you.

"What about you?" You asked.

"Me neither."

You smiled, "Figures. Because if you had someone you wouldn't have run here but went to them."

Mingyu smiled, a sad smile gracing his lips. It was a somewhat bitter truth, he hadn't found his home no matter how much he looked for it. Maybe that's what he was doing wrong, looking desperately.

"Let's get going. It has started to rain," Your voice dragged him out of his thoughts as he felt small drops of water fall on his face. You reached your hand out to him and he took it, standing up. As you both jogged towards Mingyu's car, your hands remained connected, no one bothering to let go.

-

That night you had dinner with Mingyu again but this time it was you who did the cooking. After enjoying dinner over small talk, Mingyu like the gentleman he is did the dishes as you poured some wine for the two of you.

Sitting on the small table in common space by the window, you both watched the clear sky that had appeared after the shower. You sipped your wine, watching the vast expanse of stars that blinked in the dark sky.

"I think I've to go back tomorrow," Mingyu suddenly whispered, his tone so low you almost thought you misheard him. A bolt out the blue, you looked at him.

"Tomorrow?"

"Mmhmm," he fiddled with the hem of his cardigan as he stared at the table. "I've got so many calls and messages from work. My company won't run on its on, I can be gone for only so long." He sighed.

You didn't offer any words, too shocked to know that he'd be gone tomorrow. What is this attachment you've developed towards him? Why did the thought of someone, almost a stranger going back to where he came from, where he belonged hurt you so much? You didn't know what to label your feelings but realizing that you'd probably never see him again was tugging at your heartstrings.

Should you ask him for his number and stay connected with him? Is there even a point in that? You both live miles away from each other. Or should just take his advice and follow him to the city? Would that even be a good idea? Are you just reading all this wrong?

You were so invested in your thoughts that you didn't realize Mingyu was calling you until he shook your shoulder.

"You okay, ___?"

"Huh? Yeah...it's just, the news is really sudden. I didn't... expect you'd return so soon." You mumbled.

Mingyu sighed, his shoulder dropping a little bit. "Trust me, if I could I'd stay here forever. But...I can't keep running. I need to face my parents, the sooner the better."

At a loss of what to say, you just nodded. Reaching for your drink you took a big gulp, trying to calm your nerves. It's okay, you can do this. He's just another one of your guests.

You stood up, taking the empty glass in your hand, "Well, I better leave you alone now. I'm sure you've got packing to do."

You almost turned away; until a strong hand gripped your wrist and pulled you back, making you stumble towards Mingyu's body.

"Don't. Stay for a while. I don't want you to leave." His voice was soft yet deep and it immediately broke your resolve as you set the glass down and looked into his eyes.

He didn't let go of your wrist; instead only wrapped his other hand around your waist, pulling you closer, leaving just a few inches between your faces. You didn't tell him to move neither did you make any effort to get away from him- you didn't want to. It felt good, comforting as he held you and looked at you almost like you were his whole world. His eyes had so much emotion swirling in them and you were sure yours looked the same too.

"___?" His voice was breathy and it set your heart aflame.

"Y-yes?"

"Can I...kiss you?"

You inhaled sharply as his hold on you got tighter. You couldn't process a reply, overwhelmed with emotion. So you just nodded and Mingyu leaned in, pressing his lips to yours.

It was soft at first, his lips just resting against yours, as if he was testing the waters. When you didn't resist but only pulled him closer, he started devouring you, his tongue prodding in your wet cavern. Moans espaced from you as you kept pulling at his hair almost grinding on him, desperate for more. He was the same, kissing you with so much passion and vigour like you were the last female standing.

You somehow managed to tug off his cardigan between the kiss and when you pulled apart for air, Mingyu panted, "Can we take this to the bedroom?"

His deep raspy voice spread liquid heat throughout your body and you had to stop yourself from pouncing on him.

"Yes please," you breathed. Mingyu stood up straight, his tall and built body intimidating you in the best ways possible, "Oh baby, you don't have to beg. I'll give you anything you want."

Once again your breath was trapped as he picked you up, his hand under your ass to support you. When he dropped you on his bed and took off his tee you realized you were in for a long night. In the back of your mind, you also realized that this would make it even harder to let him go.

-

Next morning you were the first one to wake up as the sun barely seeped through the blinds. If you had to guess it wasn't any more than six am. Mingyu's hand rested on your waist as he remained snuggled against your back. It was so comforting that you almost forgot your reality and went back to sleep, until you remembered what had happened last night. Before you could start overthinking and possibly had a breakdown right there, you ever so carefully removed his hand from your body and scrawled out of the bed, grabbing your shirt and quickly throwing it on. Then you tiptoped out of his room despite the ache between your legs and rushed straight towards yours.

Slamming the door shut, your sat down, head in your hands. You've to now prepare for saying goodbye. Right, you just need to act casual and not let him know that you might have developed feelings for him in the past week.

His words came back to you.

"Do you have a home?"

You didn't have one until now but the realization that you may have found it brought tears to your eyes.

-

You spent the next hours wallowing in your self pity, curled up in your bed too afraid to get out and face Mingyu. Soonyoung dropped by once, knocking at your door and asking if you want breakfast, which you declined. Time slowly ticked away and you watched as the clock struck eleven. You couldn't stay inside forever. You needed to bid Mingyu a goodbye- that is if he hadn't left already. But you were sure he didn't; he wouldn't just leave without any words.

Sighing, you gathered every last bit of your courage and stepped out of your room. Immediately you saw Mingyu coming out from the opposite end of the corridor, the carry-on he brought with him in his hand.

"Hey, where have you been?" He asked, his steps getting quicker to come and stand in front of you.

"Oh- um, I took and shower and then dozed off, sorry," you lied easily, not meeting his eyes.

There was a beat of silence as you both stood in front of each other and when your eyes finally met his, a blush spread across his face like wildfire. The air was heavy with unsaid words and you coughed, trying to get rid of the terrible awkwardness.

"So, you're leaving now?"

What a nice question.

Mingyu seemed to be lost in thoughts as he snapped back to reality and scratched the back of his head, "Oh yeah, right. It'll be a couple hours drive so the earlier I leave the better."

Nodding you motioned your hand towards the exit, "I'll see you out."

Mingyu seemed to have something to say but he pressed his lips in a thin line and started to climb down the stairs, you behind him. Soonyoung, who was standing at the entrance gave you a conspirational wiggle of his brows but said nothing as he watched you follow Mingyu out.

You observed as Mingyu loaded his bag in the trunk, peeking glances at you every other second. When he finished, you spoke, "Well...good luck. I hope you can overcome your problems."

"Thanks. It won't be easy and my dad will probably take away my shares of the company but...I'm done living like this."

You nodded, smiling softly as you crossed your arms against your chest. It suddenly felt cold.

You both gazed at each other, saying nothing even though you've so much to say, as if the silence would carry your unsaid words to him. You were torn- wanting to talk about last night but chickening out knowing it was probably just a fling, a one night stand for him.

"___..." Mingyu spoke but the words died on his tongue. Not trusting yourself to speak, you swallwed the ball of emotions and looked at him with a curious tilt of head.

"...I hope you find what you really want to do. And I hope you find your home too," he said, his words so soft and gentle. For some reason you had a feeling that those were not the words he wanted to say yet you forced a smile and nodded, "You too, Mingyu."

His eyes swirled with so my emotions but you didn't know what he was thinking. He looked pained, just like you but you were too afraid to speak your feelings, scared that you misread him.

When you spoke no more, Mingyu sighed and backstopped slowly, "Well... goodbye, then."

You managed to choke out the words, "Goodbye."

Your emotions overwhelmed you, tears stinging your eyes as you watched him enter his car. Why did it hurt so much? Why did it feel like your heart was being ripped right out of your chest?

His engine roared to life and your stomach sunk. Was this really the right thing to do? Should you just let him go like this?

You made a split second decision that moment, just as his car moved forward a little.

"Mingyu!" You called after him, immediately making him stop the car. He came out, almost in a hurry, an expectant look on his face as you ran towards him. Then you made another split second decision as you wrapped your arms around his tall frame and held tight.

"I like you, Mingyu. I really like you." You mumbled in his chest.

He didn't say anything back but you felt his arms wrapping around you tightly and you stood there in each others embrace for a while. It felt like time has stopped, the warmth and safety of his arms comforting you and making you realize how you would have regretted if you had let him go.

Mingyu pulled back to take a look at your face, his hand cupping your cheeks, his warm but intense eyes on you, shining with love and adoration.

"Say something," you whispered, still unsure.

He chuckled, a light-hearted, carefree sound that made your heart swoon. "I like you too, if it wasn't obvious after last night."

Elated, you pulled his face down and kissed his lips as you felt him grin and wrap his arms around you once again.

"I want to go with you...to the city," you murmured into his chest as he rested his chin on the top of your head.

You couldn't see it but you felt him smirk, "Good. Because I think I found my home."

Your heart couldn't become fuller as you grinned like a happy child.

"Me too."

A/N 2: If you enjoyed reading don't forget to like and reblog and let me know your thoughts!

© startlightxsvt 2021 | All Rights Reserved. Do not copy, translate, adapt, or repurpose any of my works.

[plush-rabbit]

Sugar and Spice

Word Count: 2K

A/N: This is set after he passes the gym to Marnie:P I hope that you enjoyed it!! Im sorry for it being so late!! Also, since sunday was a lot,, pokemon related things will go on ao3 like tomorrow!!

Piers is a rather intimidating person. He’s tall and wears dark clothing, a certain look of disdain on his features to anyone who looks upon him. He won’t necessarily be rude to people but he has a rather flippant personality that makes it hard for people to approach him first.

You on the other hand, you try to meet him. You may not enjoy his type of music, but you do try to approach him, wanting to attend his concerts or even just listening to some of his earlier music that is different from the way he sings now. It’s softer, harsh lyrics that are whispered into your ear accompanied by static due to the low quality of the mic but you enjoy it.

Truth be told, he inspired you to start your own musical journey. Different from his genre obviously, but still. It was easy to write the music, to let the flow seep into you and sing with a lonely voice and cute look. If he could keep his dark, gloomy aesthetic, then you could keep your pastel, cheery one.

Yet, despite the hopeful encounter that you wish you could have had with him, ended horribly. He hadn’t exactly called you anything mean and while you were aware of the tone he held, it certainly didn’t prepare you to be on the receiving end of it. It was a heavy feeling that it left, an unmistakable uneasiness that made you squirm and want to leave.

And yet, you still hold a strong admiration to him. You still want to meet him and go against him in a battle even if it isn’t his strongest suit just for the fact that you believe like everyone else that a battle is what people go against, what they put all their might into and see how they can prevail at the end of it. You wanted to see the light in his eyes up close and see how he would fight.

You’re everything opposite to Piers. Where he dresses in dark clothing and has a rather cold demeanor, you dress in soft colors and try to appear friendly to others, often accompanied by your team of fairy and mostly pink colored pokémon. You spent a good portion of your youth hating pink, wanting to go against gender norms but as you grew older, you fell in love with the color and the frills, wanting to be dressed in a cute way that while others may have seen as overbearing, you just liked it and it made you happy. Where as he sang metal and rock, you stuck with pop, you wore your dresses and had even jokingly called the type of music you sang “bubblegum pop”, no real reason behind it- agains, it just made you happy to call it. Despite the differences, you greatly admired the ex- gym leader. He had been able to hold his own in a town that was failing- no fault on his of course- and had been a caring brother from what you have seen. He was an admirable person and while the music he made wasn’t exactly your taste, you could learn to enjoy it.

However, due to your rising fame and the type advantage against him, people around the region- who knew of both of you- had begun to jokingly call the two of you rivals, wanting to see you both battle it out and see who would reign above the other. And while you would have happily accepted the chance to meet Piers, a trainer you strongly admired, he had only sneered at the idea of you and him having a battle. To say it hurt would be an understatement. He’s a personal inspiration and to have him act that way to the mere mention of you left you deflated. 

It’s a mere accident that you both are in the same area. Mentions of him of you are sprinkled into your notifications, buildings that match in the background and while you aren’t proud of it, you take to following the buildings and the threads. You walk around, your white tennis skirt paired with a soft, baby blue pullover and pair or white tennis shoes, an obvious giveaway to who you are, a yellow star shaped bag that crosses over your chest, and a bow with trailing ribbons falling and curving around your shoulders, tickling at your neck with every step until you finally seem to be in a surrounding area that he was last seen at. While it left you with an odd taste, you wanted to run into him and express your admiration for him- just for a quick second, to tell him how much you liked the music he put out and how he stuck with the aesthetic- you could understand how expensive it could be to stick with something as money-consuming as clothing.

You find him by accident. It’s a completely stereotypical moment when you do. You both stand at the opposite ends of the fountain decorated with carvings of various water types from the region, the sun shines and you can see in front of you with his sister and the rising champions. You hold onto the straps of your bag, your lips pulling into a flustered line, heat that rises from excitement or general shyness- you aren’t sure yet, and you stare at him with wide eyes. In the pockets of your skirt, you can feel your phone buzz and in the corner of your eyes, you can see people hurriedly take out their phones. And just like that, the serene, very stereotypical moment is over when he turns around and your eyes meet. Where you widen and flush under his gaze, he hardens his stare and grows an annoyed look, brows furrowing and lips pulled into a thin line. 

Your resolve is broken. You gasp, and look around, seeing people stare and a small circle forming, whether for the both of you or the rising stars of the region, you don’t know and you don’t find out, choosing to leave the area. You jump a bit, standing on the tips of your shoes and you turn to leave. 

You don’t want to stick around and see what he might have to say, the thought of the smallest bit of rejection far too much on your mind. You manage to make your way into a bookstore, the scent of coffee lingering in the air and you greet the employees with a tight smile, wandering deeper into the store, hoping to distract yourself and walk between the aisles and find something to buy. 

You stand at the end of the store, against a corner as you trail your finger against the spines of the books. In your peripheral, you can spot a figure, standing tall and you pay no mind. There is no real reason for you to worry- you may not look the part, but you can certainly fight dirty and the store isn’t abandoned so you could always call for help. You hum under your breath, pulling out a book and pursing your lips as you read the synopsis. The figure at the end comes closer and you turn, a soft squeak sounds past your lips. You feel yourself stand straighter, your shoulders squaring and the book held close to your chest, fingers gripping onto it tightly, enough to pale your knuckles.

“You ran away,” Piers muses, his fingers trailing along the spines, his steps quiet against the carpet. “You must be really scared of me,” he says, looking away from you, chuckling lightly. He stands in front of you, his brows raising as he looks down at you. 

His dual colored hair is pulled into a loose ponytail, a thick part of it obscuring half of his face and you can only do so much to not cower under his gaze, eventually breaking from his eye contact and looking at the top of your shoes that differ from his. 

“‘S not that,” you mutter, biting at your bottom lip. “I just… panicked,” you end, licking at your lips. “I- I didn’t mean to offend you.” 

You were kidding yourself if you thought you could talk to him. Much less have a battle against him. Once he showed up, your resolve fell, further than it did before when he looked at you. You take a small step back, your shoes shuffling and messing at the carpet underneath, and your eyes still locked on his boots. Just a second ago, you wanted to proclaim your admiration to him, enough to go and see him and find him and yet, here he is standing in front of you without any distractions or prying eyes and you can’t bring yourself to talk to him with faltering. 

“You’re a lot jumpier than I expected, ya know?” His reply to you is done with a simple roll of his eyes. “I mean, fuck, I guess it’s expected for a type user like you.” You stay quiet and you can almost hear his smug grin. “Lots of people comment how you’re a pushover because of your, er,  type and all.”

You look up at him, your brows furrowed and frown against your lips. You lean towards him, the book still held in your hands. “It’s- So what? I like pink and fairy types! They happen to be cute and they’re strong!” Your voice starts to raise, slowly raising into a higher pitch, shoulders raiing a fraction to meet the ends of your lobes. “Plus, there are a few fairy that have a dark counterpart and Mimikyu is one that I’m going to add to my team!” Your eyes narrow and you pull away from him, crossing your arms in front of you, a scowl on your lips, face growing hot under anger. “I just happen to be,” you make a small noise of discomfort and bite the inside of your cheeks, “quieter.”

He looks taken aback, eyes wide as he blinks owlishly at you. His down turned lips start to twitch, forming into a wicked smile. He snorts and shakes his head, a pleasant sound ringing through the small corner, and you soften, your arms slowly lowering from their harsh grip. 

“You got some fire in you, huh?” He asks, tilting his head “Damn, didn’t think you had it in you to actually stand up for yourself like that.” You meet his eyes and he flashes a quick grin that reveals his teeth. “Nothing bad about it, I swear.” he holds his hands up and brushes a hand through his hair. “Anyways-” he waves a hand and you watch it with careful eyes- “you oughta be more careful about who you yell it at, as all I’m gonna say,” he muses. 

“Piers?” He hums in response and you swallow nervously. “Wh- Why did you come here?” You don’t want to accuse him of following you here, for all you know it could be a happy, little accident. “And why did you talk to me?”

His milky complexion turns into a bright pink that fills in his cheeks, a flustered look on his face where his eyes narrow. “Oh, hah, I- Marnie needed a book and I-” his hand swings around at a much faster pace, circling around in front of him with an open palm and you react instinctively.

You make a pained gasping noise, the book dropping onto the floor with a thud as your hands come up to block your face, back hunched as you try to cower under the minimal protection that you offer yourself. You whimper and take a stumbling step back that leads you against the wall, your eyes pinched shut and it’s a second too late that you realize you messed up. You gasp and straighten up, an uncomfortable heat running down your back as you meet his eyes.

He stands frozen, his hand still in midair and his eyes are wide, darting down to the book and back to where your hands still hold a semi-protective barrier against him. His eyes turn from shocked into pitiful and you break away from his gaze, mumbling an apology under your breath.

“Shit,” he hisses out, bringing his hands close to his body. “I didn’t mean to trigger you or-”

“It’s not that,” you respond quickly. “I- Can we not talk about it?” You turn to look at him, your bottom lip trembling ever so slightly, your eyes glancing back to the fallen book. “Please?” He nods slowly and you return it in response. You crouch down to grab the book and pull it close to you only to look back at it with disdain. You turn and place the book back into the shelf, your hands coming down to play with the hem of your skirt. 

It’s silent. The soft music that plays from the music is not enough to drown the silence between the both of you and you want to chastise yourself for ruining a moment with your fears. Your teeth bite into the soft part of your cheeks, painful and enough to make tears spring into your eyes. In your pocket, your phone buzzes and you fail to pick it up, too frozen to care about the outside world. 

“Do you want to get a coffee?” You look up at him and he gives you a hesitant smile. He jerks his chin to the other side, his hands inside his coat pockets. “I was thinking of getting a cup while I was here,” he clears his throat, “I could get you one if you want. We can drink it here too,” he adds quickly.

You give him a tentative smile, slowly pulling yourself away from the wall and taking a step closer to him. “Do you want to look for Marnie’s book first? I don’t- I don’t mind.” 

“Right,” he says slowly, “her book. The uh- you know, let me message her to see what the title was, yeah?” He nods his head and moves to the side, jerking his head to allow you to walk in front of him first. “Let’s just get a drink first, all right?” He gives you a nervous smile, laughing quietly with eyes that come to a close. You come to stand next to him, nodding softly, your hands flexing at your sides in an attempt to calm down. “Neat,” he says. “Let’s get a cup

[hawkinscursed]

hi i just wanted to pop in and say i stg i’m gonna try to actually be active and such soon. life has truly just been something lately - but i miss you all and actually writing so much. there’s so much i wanna do with these guys and so many things i wanna write. i’m trying to get there. also i don’t know if anyone here knows the disney channel zombies franchise but the third film gets released tonight/tomorrow and i may try to work out some kind of verse for these guys for that. as i have a lot of friends in the fandom and such - and i do write one of the characters but - my st muse is too strong to really focus on any other muse atm. but yeah - anyways i’m gonna try to be here sometime within the next couple days. i hope you’re all doing well and i am sending you all so much love <3

[lady-wallace]

A Box of Chocolates (Febuwhump Day 7: “Poisoning”)

For today’s @febuwhump​ prompt: Poisoning

Fandom: JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure: Diamond is Unbreakable

Synopsis: After a mysterious box of chocolates shows up on Josuke's desk, he decides it would be funny to pass them to Rohan. That is until he realizes that someone has it out for him…

~~~~~~~~

Read on Ao3

Read on FF.net

~~~~~~~

Josuke stared down at the unsolicited box that sat on his desk.

Okuyasu stood behind him, scratching his head. "I wonder who put it there? It's not even valentine's day."

"Yeah…that's why I'm wary," Josuke said slowly.

Okuyasu grinned. "Come on, Josuke, it's probably just a girl, a secret admirer. You know you have lots of them."

Josuke looked around the room and saw a lot of girls casting disparaging looks at the box of chocolates, but none ignoring it completely or blushing when he looked their way.

"Yeah, but most of the time they don't bother with the secret part," Josuke mused. "I don't know, man, it's just weird."

"Well, if you don't want them, I'll eat them!" Okuyasu said eagerly, reaching for the box. "I doubt anyone will ever leave me a box of chocolates."

Josuke snagged the box away from him. "No way, man! Someone could have spit in these for all we know! No one should eat them."

Okuyasu pouted, folding his arms over his chest. "So you're just going to let good chocolate go to waste because you're afraid someone might have spit in them?"

Josuke opened his mouth to reply when an idea popped into his head that he just couldn't find it in himself to ignore. He started to grin.

"What?" Okuyasu demanded.

Josuke chuckled and lowered his voice. "What if we passed them on to Rohan? Then if they're prank chocolates, he'll be the one to deal with it?"

Okuyasu grinned. "Yeah! That would be hilarious! Especially if they were filled with toothpaste or something!"

"And it would make up for when he bought the last of my favorite mini cakes right in front of me at Owson's last week."

Okuyasu chuckled and Josuke tucked the chocolates into his bag for later.

After school they swung by Rohan's house, hoping he wouldn't see them.

Josuke took the chocolates from his bag with a grin. "All right, I'll just run up to the porch and put this in the mail slot or something."

Okuyasu frowned suddenly. "Josuke, are you sure we should do this? I mean, what if there really is something wrong with the chocolates?"

Josuke snorted. "Come on, Okuyasu, there's probably nothing wrong with them at all. Besides, it's Rohan. He deserves it."

Okuyasu shrugged and Josuke snuck up to the porch and slipped the chocolates into the small mail slot by the door before running back to the sidewalk with a grin. The idea that Rohan would unwillingly eat chocolates someone spit on—spit meant for Josuke—really made his day.

"Come on, I've got to stop by the store and pick up a few things for mom before heading home," Josuke told his friend. "Want to come with?"

"Sure," Okuyasu replied as they walked off, the deed done.

~~~~~~

Rohan held his grocery bag in the crook of one arm as he dug for his keys. He really hadn't wanted to go out today but he was out of both tea and coffee and there was no way he would be able to finish the new script without something to drink.

He finally found the keys in his pocket and went to unlock the door when he saw something sticking out of his mailbox.

Curious, Rohan reached over to pull it out, but instead of a package, it was a box of chocolates.

He snorted. Probably left by a fan. He really wished that snot-nosed brat Hazamada hadn't found his address because he had blabbed it to anyone who would listen and now it was an unlikely day when Rohan could actually work without someone coming to knock on his door for an autograph. Most of the time he just pretended he wasn't home. He'd tried erasing it from the brat's head but somehow he just seemed to find out about it again.

However, he was actually craving something sweet, so this couldn't have come on a better day. He'd certainly enjoy a few of these while he worked.

First order of business was making coffee, though.

Once Rohan had made a cup of coffee and retired to his studio, he started to work on the script for his next chapter of Pink Dark Boy. It was due tomorrow and he'd been stuck on a couple parts, but the walk to the store that day had helped him to figure out where he wanted to take it, so now it should only take him a couple hours to write it all out.

He scribbled a few notes then turned to open the box of chocolates. They smelled delicious, all of them with different fillings. Rohan popped one into his mouth and instantly had to eat another one. Maybe it was just because he was craving chocolate, but these seemed particularly good.

Before he knew it, he was just working on the last scene for this script and he looked over for another chocolate, realizing that more than half of them were gone.

Rohan pursed his lips. He probably shouldn't eat any more, and yet, who was here to tell him no? He took one more—okay, two—and finished up the script, sitting back and feeling satisfied with his progress.

Now he just had to call his editor and let him know that the script would be on the way.

He got up to refill his coffee and grabbed the phone in the kitchen after pouring a fresh cup. As he dialed, a pang in his stomach made him wince and he rubbed his middle ruefully. Okay, maybe he had eaten too many chocolates. He could sometimes get carried away when he was writing. It had been a long time since he'd given himself a stomach ache from sweets though. Really rather childish of him.

When his editor picked up, he leaned back against the counter to talk, watching the steam rise from his cup of coffee as he tried to ignore the increasingly irritable pangs in his stomach. He was really starting to regret his greediness right now.

"I'll have it faxed to you within a few hours," Rohan promised and ended the call. He took his coffee and sipped it, but just a swallow made his stomach feel a little nauseous. Maybe he needed some water instead.

He grabbed a bottle from the fridge and went back up to the studio to start reading over the pages for a quick edit, making a few notes and then, once he was satisfied, he went over to the fax machine.

As he stood however, he felt suddenly dizzy and his stomach protested so much that he had to nearly bend double as a cramp lanced through him. Rohan grunted a curse. Was it too much to ask to be able to enjoy a few chocolates? Okay, he had eaten more than just a few, but still, this was a little ridiculous.

He started faxing the pages when the dizziness and nausea got so strong, Rohan was sure he was going to throw up. He hurriedly clapped a hand over his mouth and rushed to the bathroom, panting. Nothing happened, but a sudden, tearing pain, ripped him in half and he collapsed to his knees with a cry, vomiting into the toilet.

Stomach cramps assaulted him, forcing him to bend double even after he finished vomiting. He curled up on the bathroom floor, breaking out into a cold sweat as he trembled, arms wrapped around his protesting stomach. He whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut. This wasn't normal. Was something wrong with him? Were…were the chocolates poisoned or something? No, that was ridiculous. Why would anyone give him poisoned chocolates?

Rohan got his breath under control and sat up slowly, crawling to the door, deciding he would lie down in bed until this passed. Maybe if he could sleep off his stupid mistake of eating way too many chocolates, he would feel better.

Another agonizing cramp tore through his belly and Rohan cried out, tears of pain springing to his eyes as he doubled over, head pressed against the floor. Medicine…should he take something? What should he take? Actually, should he be calling an ambulance right now? That might actually be a more logical idea.

As he tried to shakily pull himself to his feet to go back downstairs to use the phone, he felt a wave of nausea and dizziness overtake him again along with even more agonizing stomach cramps before his body seemed to simply quit on him.

Rohan's eyes rolled up in his head and he collapsed at the top of the stairs.

~~~~~

Josuke and Okuyasu finished with the shopping and were heading back to Josuke's house.

"You want to stay for a while to do homework?" Josuke asked him.

"Yeah, I didn't really understand the lesson," Okuyasu told him sheepishly.

"It's okay, I'll help you out."

"Josuke Higashikata."

Josuke frowned and turned around to see another student standing there, glowering darkly at him.

"Yeah?" he inquired, wondering what this guy wanted.

The other student clenched his fists. "I bet you don't even know who I am, do you? Well, you'll remember now. I know your secret. I know you have a Stand!"

Josuke's stance turned wary, and Okuyasu also tensed beside him. "Oh yeah? How do you know that?"

"Because I have one too!" the guy said smugly. "Which means I'm just as cool as you now."

"Good grief," Josuke muttered under his breath.

"So I guess you didn't fall for the chocolates?" the student asked darkly.

Josuke frowned. "Chocolates?"

Okuyasu made a sound of surprise. "Wait. Josuke, this is your secret admirer?"

The other student clenched his fists and stomped angrily. "No, you idiot! The chocolates were poisoned to give me an advantage! However, now it looks like I'll just have to face you myself. It doesn't matter anyway. When I beat you into a pulp, the girls at school will think I'm the cool one. My Stand—"

"Wait, poisoned chocolates?" Josuke demanded, cutting the guy off and turning to stare, wide-eyed in horror at Okuyasu. "Rohan!"

Okuyasu's eyes widened in understanding and they raced away, pushing past the other student.

"Hey! Wait a minute! Come back and fight me, Higashikata! You're just a coward!"

Josuke ignored him, really, really hoping Rohan hadn't eaten the chocolates.

"Crap, crap, crap," he breathed as they sprinted back toward the mangaka's house. "He's gonna kill me for this. He's actually gonna kill me this time."

They got to the house and Josuke gulped as he saw the chocolates were no longer in the mail slot. He threw the bags of groceries onto the porch and pounded on the door.

"Rohan, hey! It's Josuke and Okuyasu!"

They waited a few seconds but there was no answer. Josuke pounded harder. "Rohan, come on, this is seriously important! I mean it!"

Still no answer.

Josuke bit his lip and brought out Crazy Diamond to break through the door and reassemble it.

"Rohan?" he called. If the mangaka was here, surely he would have come out by now to yell at them.

Okuyasu started looking around, and Josuke went for the stairs.

He found Rohan as soon as he got to the top.

The artist was lying on the top of the stairs, twitching and moaning softly, sweat glistening on his skin.

"Okuyasu!" Josuke shouted to his friend as he leapt up the last few steps and crouched beside Rohan, gripping his shoulder and shaking him. "Rohan! Rohan, come on, wake up!" He slapped the mangaka none-too-gently across the face and Rohan's eyes fluttered, spearing Josuke.

"You…" he croaked. "Damn you, Josuke Higashikata." He then gasped and curled up, arms wrapped around his stomach. "It—It hurts, gah…"

"Hey, Josuke!" Okuyasu shouted as he pounded up the stairs. "Can you heal him?"

"I—I don't think I can do anything about this," Josuke said helplessly as he watched Rohan writhe on the floor, in obvious agony. This was really bad. "Rohan, where are the chocolates?"

The mangaka made a weak gesture to his studio and Okuyasu ran to get them.

"You…did this…" Rohan growled at Josuke.

The teen paled, feeling genuinely awful. "No, it's not like that, Rohan, I promise! I didn't know! I would never have—"

"Josuke, he ate almost all of them!" Okuyasu said as he came back with the box.

Josuke's eyes blew wide. They didn't even know what the kid had used. "Okay, we need to call an ambulance. I don't think Crazy Diamond can do anything about this. Stay with him."

Josuke rushed to the kitchen and grabbed the phone, calling for the ambulance. It was a rush of action after that. He and Okuyasu carried Rohan down to the couch to make him as comfortable as possible before the paramedics arrived, then they all piled into the back of the ambulance, not knowing what else to do.

At the hospital, Josuke paced the waiting room, chewing his fingernails. Why the hell did he think it was a good idea to give the chocolates to Rohan? This was all on him. What if Rohan wouldn't be okay? It would be Josuke's fault. It was so stupid, what had he been thinking? Well, for starters, he never would have expected the chocolates to actually be poisoned. Who did that?!

He and Okuyasu waited in tense silence for what seemed like hours. Then finally a familiar figure turned the corner.

Josuke glanced up, surprised. "J-Jotaro! How did you…?"

"Speedwagon Foundation," Jotaro said tersely, glowering at Josuke as he folded his arms across his chest. "Caught the kid who was going after you. Found him ranting in the street."

"Is Rohan…?" Josuke asked quietly, dreading the answer.

Jotaro glowered at him for a long moment, making Josuke feel even smaller than he usually did around the tall man. "He'll be fine. They were able to pump his stomach to flush out the majority of the poison. Luckily it was plant based instead of an acid."

Josuke felt sick. He wrapped his arms around himself.

"So he'll be okay?" Okuyasu asked quietly.

"He'll make a full recovery but he'll be weak for a few days," Jotaro said, his eyes darkening. "So, you wanna tell me what the hell happened?"

Josuke slumped into a chair and explained the story to Jotaro. The older man was silent the entire time, just glowering at them and when finally Josuke trailed off, looking down at his feet, Jotaro sighed and tugged his hat over his eyes.

"Good grief," he muttered. "Well, it's up to Rohan whether he wants to forgive you. I don't know that I would."

Josuke and Okuyasu hung their heads. "Can…can we see him?" Josuke asked.

Jotaro was silent for a long moment but finally nodded. "If he's awake."

They followed Jotaro through the hospital hallways and to a room. Jotaro knocked on the door before opening it and stepping inside.

"You have visitors."

Josuke and Okuyasu slinked inside and Josuke was shocked to see how bad Rohan looked lying in the bed. He looked almost worse than when Highway Star had stolen his nutrients.

The mangaka's eyes were half open and practically spearing Josuke.

"Hey," the teenager grinned. "Um…glad you're gonna be okay."

Rohan grunted, lip curling.

Josuke sighed, shoulders slumping. "Rohan…look, I'm…I'm really sorry. It was stupid. But I swear I didn't think there was anything wrong with the chocolates."

Rohan continued to glower. "You're an idiot."

Okay, Josuke would take that. "I know you probably hate me even more, but…I really am sorry."

Rohan sighed and rolled his eyes. "Yes. Though I do suppose you also found me, so…I guess we're even."

Josuke blinked and nodded quickly. "Okay, I'll take that."

Rohan speared him again. "But if you ever think of coming near my house again, I will have Heaven's Door give you a very embarrassing tick. And I can be creative."

Josuke laughed nervously. "Copy that. Okay, we'll let you rest now."

He and Okuyasu beat a hasty retreat from the room. Josuke felt a bit of relief flow through him though. Even though Rohan would probably never trust him again, at least he would be okay.

They ran into Koichi on their way back to the waiting room.

"Guys, there you are! I just heard about Rohan-Sensei! What happened?"

Josuke and Okuyasu shared an awkward look.

Yeah…now…they were gonna have to tell Koichi…

[loveafterthefact]

Love After the Fact Chapter 74: Stellar Nucleosynthesis

The future is uncertain, but then again nothing ever is.

First  Previous  Next

“Hey. Beloved. Hey.” Lips brush against Keith’s, fingertips traveling down his bare side to cup his hip. “Beloved, wake up. Your mom’s here and I’m pretty sure she wants to cook and eat me.”

“You’ll be fine. You’d taste terrible. She knows that already.”

“It’s pregnancy test day… We kinda need you for that.” Lance kisses his cheek, cuddling up close behind him. “Don’t you wanna know if we’re having a baby? If there’s gonna be a tiny, miniature Keith running around?”

Keith sighs, lacing his fingers over Lance’s to keep the man’s arm around him. “I’d rather they looked like you.”

“What? No way!” Lance pouts.

“I hope they at least have your eyes. I love your eyes.”

“Aw-w, Beloved. I love your eyes.” Lance kisses his shoulder. “But before we can start arguing over inherited traits, we should do a pregnancy test.”

“We can argue now. But,” Keith says with a heaving sigh. “I guess we should take a pregnancy test. Before Thace straps me down and bleeds me by force.”

“Keith.” It’s Krolia, clearly having gotten impatient listening to Lance coo over him. “You have a package waiting from Thace.”

“Okay, I’m coming.” Keith sits up, Lance sitting with him.

“Your hair is a mess.”

“That’s your fault.”

“Yeah. It is.” Lance snickers, kisses his cheek. “I think Krolia got breakfast started, so whenever you’re ready, come join us, okay?”

Keith nods, spends a few minutes finding the energy to deal with Lance and Krolia in the same room and find out if he’s pregnant. He’ll be exhausted before lunch.

Krolia’s cooking breakfast when he emerges. Lance is patting out dough for flatbreads. They’re a little uneven, still a little wonky around the edges, but he’s got a proud little smile on his face. Keith swears he falls in love all over again when the Altean holds one up for his inspection.

“My good man, they look beautiful.” Keith wraps his arms around his mate’s waist, kisses his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re having fun.”

“I know you’re lying to spare my feelings, but thank you, beloved.” Lance sprinkles more flour on the table, starts on another lump of dough. “That came for you.” A long, thin finger indicates a parcel wrapped in paper. “Thace makes paper, doesn’t he? It’s like a hobby or something.”

“Yeah, he does. It's how he and Ulaz fell in love, actually. Thace used to write all these letters for him. Still does. And for his kits.”

Keith takes a deep breath, unwraps the parcel. Inside is a small case about the size of his palm, made of dark, brushed metal. He blows the breath out through his cheeks.

Lance opens up an accompanying slip of parchment. “Okay. He left instructions. Step one, open the case and remove the test strip capsule and packaged sanitary wipe.”

Keith opens the box. Inside, there’s a small, metal device of matching color with a narrow screen at the top and a glass capsule containing a thin strip of silver material with a tiny depression at one end. He pulls out the capsule.

“Unscrew the lid of the capsule, removing the test strip. Insert the flat end of the strip into the port at the bottom of the device. Put the lid back on the capsule. Carefully clean the selected finger. Then, pull on the lip of the capsule to expose the needle punch, set it to the side of the pad of your finger, and press down quickly. You should feel a sharp prick. Squeeze a small amount of blood from your finger and put it up to the sample plate at the bottom of the strip. Press the button on the device and wait- Fifteen doboshes?!”

Lance groans. Keith shakes his head, smiling despite his stress. “I suppose we could wait two more movements and I could pee into a capsule and we could have results in one dobosh instead.”

“No, we’ll just do it now,” the Altean grumbles.

Krolia chuckles. “Be grateful you have a test you can take. I just had to wait until I could feel you. Besides, this device will also screen for any deficiencies Keith may have accrued during his season, and send the data directly to his reproductive care physician, in the case Thace.”

Keith bites his lip, staring at the capsule, before handing it to Lance with a pleading look. Lance sits beside him at the table, finding the sanitary wipe and unwrapping it, cleaning Keith’s left index finger, though not before squeezing it to watch his claw extend. Just for fun.

“When you say ‘wait until you could feel him’, what do you mean?” Lance asks, pulling off the capsule lid. The outer dome pops off to reveal a smaller, similarly shaped piece of metal beneath, with a hole at the bottom.

“After a phoeb, I could press down on my lower abdomen and feel a hardness where my womb would be.”

“I guess fifteen doboshes doesn’t sound so bad now, hm?” Keith asks. Lance kisses his cheek. The Galra smiles, opens his mouth to say something else, only to let out a surprised squeak when Lance presses the pricking device down on his finger. “There we go. All done.”

Lance squeezes a bead of blood from the tiny wound in the side of Keith’s finger, presses it to the sample plate. He looks back at his husband. “Whenever you’re ready, beloved.”

Keith hesitantly presses the purple button on the device, eyeing the Galran text on the screen:

TEST: ANALYZING…

“Now what?” Lance whines. “I wanna know.”

“I mean, the chances of me being pregnant are not in our favor.” Keith says, accepting some steak and eggs from his mother. “It’s my first season, and my family has a history of fertility issues. Plus, even if I am pregnant, the chances that I won’t miscarry are also not in our favor for the exact same reasons. Best not to get our hopes up.” The Galra shrugs, scooping his breakfast onto a piece of already cooked flatbread, sprinkling it with salt and spices, and shoving it in his mouth. “Besides, I was spotting for a couple quintants after my season, so-”

“That happens either way. You know that,” Krolia prompts. At Lance’s confused looks, she explains. “It’s not uncommon to spot blood following season.”

"Come on now, beloved. Let's try to be optimistic, okay?" Lance watches Keith’s enthusiasm for his breakfast fade before his eyes, ears drooping. He places a hand of his husband’s shoulder. “Hey, why don’t you go take your bath while we wait? The test will be done when you get back and you can keep yourself busy with this mess.”

Lance tugs at a tangled lock of hair. Keith nods, worrying his lip. “Yeah. Yeah, okay… You won’t be mad, right?”

“Not even a little. And I won’t peek. Pregnant or not, you’ll be the first to know.”

Keith nods, resets his demeanour. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

Watching him retreat into the bathroom, Lance turns to Krolia. “He’s going to be devastated if we’re not pregnant.”

“Oh, absolutely. One hundred percent.” She sips her tea, forwing after her only child, a worried furrow to her brow. “Totally crushed.”

Lance nods, snatches up the uneaten half of Keith’s breakfast, sets it back out by the fire to keep it warm. Now he just needs to keep himself busy until Keith comes back.

“I should get packing,” he muses. “We’re leaving tomorrow either way, and Keith has managed to acquire many presents.” He turns back to the warrior at his table. “Will you kindly bring yours tomorrow? It should make leaving easier on him.”

“Certainly.” Krolia sets down her borrowed tea cup, rises to her feet. “I assume that is a dismissal?”

“A soft one, but please, if you don’t mind. Whatever the near future holds, let it be ours, first.” Lance inclines his head. Krolia nods, leaves, leaving Lance to his waiting.

After fifteen doboshes, the device on the table beeps. Lance lungs for it, misses at the last tick. “No, no. I said he got to see it first-” Lance groans, cards a hand through his hair. “Okay. I’m okay. I’m a grown up. I can be patient.” One tick. Two. Patience is not Lance’s strong suit. “I’m just gonna…”

Keith’s still in the tub, hair still tangled, knees tucked up to his chest.

“Hey, beloved. The, uh. The results are in, if you want to come take a look.”

“O-Okay.” Keith begins raking fingers frantically through his wet hair, cursing when they snag on the knots.

“Whoa, hey.” Lance gently coaxed Keith’s hands into his lap. “Let me do that, hm? Before you hurt yourself.”

“It’s just hair,” Keith whispers.

“Not to you.” Lance kisses the top of his head before pouring a lightweight creme into his hands, coaxing it through Keith’s hair. “Though I’ve noticed you don’t braid it so much anymore. Isn’t that what your father did?”

“Yeah. But I’m not my father. My father is gone… I could be becoming a father right now.” Keith draws in a rattling breath, tugging on a detangled lock of hair.

“Yes, we both could be.” Lance starts on another section of Keith’s hair, wrinkling his nose as loose strands tangle around his fingers. Their servants must hate cleaning their bathroom. And their quarters for that matter, given Keith’s fur. “Beloved, are you alright? You don’t seem like yourself.”

“I’m… scared.”

Lance’s hands pause for a moment, then continue their progress, working up and up until they eventually comb all of the tangles out of his hair.

“Me too. It’s… a lot. I know. And even more for you than for me. But listen.” Lance scoops a pitcher of water from the adjacent basin, pours it slowly over Keith’s head to rinse the creme from his hair and the many loose strands from his hands. “All that test tells us is whether or not we’re pregnant. There’s plenty of time for us to change our minds if-”

“You changed your mind?!” Keith whirls, alarmed.

“What? No! Not at all. But if you have, then-”

“I haven’t. I just- I know I'm the one who has to carry the kits and all that, but if you wouldn't mind helping? Just maybe picking up a few extra duties here and there, stuff like that.”

"Of course I will. What else would I do? You- I couldn't possibly do enough for you," Lance whispers. Keith’s violet eyes meet Lance’s, resolved, but still somehow soft. Lance nods, presses their foreheads together. “Are you ready then?”

“I think so. Can you get me some clothes while I dry off?”

“Sure.” Lance kisses Keith sweetly, hands him his towel. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Doboshes later, Keith’s staring at the little device like touching it might kill him. It’s certainly killing Lance. Finally, with a determined huff, Keith snatches the device off the table, looking down at the screen. There’s a long pause, an agonizing stretch of silence, ears full of static instead of the rising bustle of the village outside.

A tiny breath escapes through Keith’s mouth, eyes gaining a dangerous shine to them as they fill with water. He tips forward and melts against Lance's frame, arms loose by his sides, head resting against his collarbone.

“Woah, hey.” Quite worried, Lance wraps his arms around his husband, holding him close. Lance kisses his fluffy ear, rubbing circles into his back. “Are you okay?”

Keith nods, snuggling closer.

“Do you, uh…” Lance clears his throat, tucking Keith more beneath his chin. “Do you want to give me a hint? You’re killing me here, beloved.”

Keith sets the device in his hand, wraps his arms around Lance’s waist. Keeping on hand on the small of Keith’s back, Lance lifts the device so he can see it, turns it right side up so he can translate the Galran properly.

TEST: POSITIVE

“Oh, my- Keith!” Lance drops the device, ignoring when it skitters over the floor in favor of holding his husband in a tight embrace. “Oh, Keith. ”

Keith pulls away. “I can’t believe it. It was so easy! I did it!- Wait, you did it? We did it?”

“Who cares! We’re having a baby! We’re gonna be parents-” Lance tears up. “I’m finally gonna be a dad.”

“Lance you’re not even nineteen.” Keith shakes his head, more fondness than anything else.

“Yes, but I’ve wanted it all my life,” Lance sniffles.

Sighing, Keith draws Lance in for a gentle embrace, though not before a tender kiss. “Now let’s hope I can carry it.”

“I know you can, beloved. I have absolute faith in you.” Lance kisses the crest of his shoulder. “And I’ll be here to help every step of the way, I promise you.”

“I figured as much. You’ll definitely be a thorn in my side more often then not.”

“A thorn is a starving man’s arrowhead.”

“I- What?” Keith pulls back, baffled. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“A pain in the ass can still be invaluable in the right circumstances.”

Keith snorts, breaking into giddy laughter as he snuggles back in. “Alfor taught you that one didn’t he.”

“No. Coran did. I was the thorn as a child, screaming for attention to rescue him from probing questions about when he and my father began seeing each other… I was a very well-trained son once upon a time.”

Keith laughs again. “I can imagine!... My good man, I love you.”

“I love you too, beloved. So very much.”

“Can we- Can we just go and curl up together? I know we need to pack, but please?”

“Yes. We can definitely do that.” Lance presses their foreheads together, feeling a stir of pride when he hears Keith start to purr, that anxious/excited trembling in the man’s body settling at the loving gesture. “Nothing would make me happier this day.”

Lance’s hands find Keith’s, twining their fingers together.

“Nothing at all.”

[mordoriscalling]

48 Weeks (1/4)

Throughout the 48 weeks that Geralt and Jaskier spend apart, their relationship develops.

Aka, part 3 of the Singer and the Sailor AU no one asked for but I wrote anyway. The events of this story happen after Stay or Sail Away but before Homecoming. Warnigns: some sexual content ahead! 

Weeks 1-12

Week 1

The memory of everyone he left behind is still fresh in his mind. He clearly recalls how he embraced Ciri and Yen for the last time. The hugs were short but his daughter and ex-wife know that he needs to grow distanced before deployment. It hurts less this way.

Jaskier was there to say goodbye too, but it was different with him. He has no idea how all of this works, and they only had mere three weeks to enjoy each other’s company. They tried to make best of it but Geralt still wanted to detach himself in the last week. Jaskier reacted with panic and kept asking if he’d done something wrong.

The only wrong Jaskier’s ever done was to appear in Geralt’s life just like that, waltzing past his walls and defences with laughable ease. Jaskier is loud and bright, almost unbearably so, and everything is suddenly too dark and quiet when he isn’t there.

Geralt didn’t use to mind dark and quiet. He rather enjoyed them, in fact. Now, as he waits for Jaskier’s first video call, he’s vaguely annoyed that he allowed Jaskier to influence him like this in such a short period of time. The change is small but significant and he shouldn’t have let it happen, not so fast.

But then Jaskier’s face appears on the screen, his face lit up by a brilliant smile, and any negative thoughts suddenly fly out of Geralt’s mind.

“Hi, handsome,” Jaskier purrs.

“Hello,” Geralt replies.  

“I must say,” Jaskier goes on in low voice, “the sight of you in the uniform does certain... things to me.”

Geralt looks down at his clothes with a bemused frown. He’s wearing a white, long-sleeved shirt with shoulder pads showing his rank, a black tie and black trousers. It’s nothing special. He has no idea what Jaskier sees but what he does know is that Jaskier’s gaze on him is distracting, so Geralt decides to change the subject. Clearing his throat, he asks, “How are you?”

Jaskier beams as if he asked the best possible question.

Week 2

“How the first two weeks on the ship have been?”

“Busy,” Geralt answers truthfully.

“And?” Jaskier prompts, after a moment of silence.

Geralt sighs, irritated. “And there’s a lot of work to do and some chaos, like always at the beginning.”

Jaskier chuckles. “This will have to suffice for now, but know this, White Wolf: I will get all your stories out of you.”

Geralt rolls his eyes and asks, “How are you?”

There’s that smile again.

Week 3

“How are you?”

Jaskier’s grin is blinding as he answers, “Honestly, Geralt, you’re just so sweet.”

Geralt grunts. Jaskier has to be mentally challenged in some way, to think that the basic human decency which Geralt displays is some kind of special gesture. (Or have had unpleasant experiences with past relationships but that doesn't seem right. Who would treat Jaskier like that?)

He only asks Jaskier about how he’s doing the first moment he can. It’s not much but Jaskier appears to think it is. Geralt’s not going to correct him, not when it makes Jaskier smile like that.

Week 4

“I wrote you a song.”

Geralt doesn’t know what to say to that.

“I’ll send you the recording, just tell me what you think.”

He only nods. As he listens to the song after they hang up, he can’t find any words to describe it. The beautiful lyrics tell a story of lovers camping in a forest, and Jaskier’s voice conveys so many emotions that Geralt’s chest aches.

Before the knows it, he listens to the song every evening, then it keeps replaying in his mind at all times. Jaskier’s voice is there with him, luring him towards thoughts that he shouldn’t entertain, and it all affects him in a way he struggles to express.

Week 5

“Thank you, siren.”

It’s the only words he’s found. Somehow, they seem to be enough for Jaskier.

Week 6

Jaskier is leaving on tour tomorrow, his first international one. He has a lot to say, but not necessarily on that topic.

“It turns out my agent and your ex-wife are friends from uni. I hate it, Geralt. I don’t want them to get along. I have a feeling I’m gonna have little say in my own life from now on.”

Geralt acknowledges Jaskier’s despair with a grunt that is barely noticed because Jaskier chatters on, “The only thing I’d hate more would be you knowing Triss too.”

Geralt frowns. There’s only one Triss he knows. “Triss Merigold?”

There’s a stunned pause and then, “What the fuck, Geralt –”

Week 7

Jaskier is in Europe now and Geralt is somewhere on the Atlantic but he can’t say anything else. Jaskier seems tired but Geralt finds out that it doesn’t make him any less talkative.

“I’m still not over the fact that you were right there the whole time –”

“Jaskier –”

“ – just two introductions away!” A huff. “Hey Jaskier,” he pitches his voice high, imitating how a woman would sound rather well, “do you know my friend Yennefer? Oh, and here’s her ex-husband, who’s gonna ruin you for other men, women, and everyone in between and outside of that spectrum.”

Geralt snorts.

“I could’ve had you for so much longer,” Jaskier laments, “But actually, I wouldn’t have, because it seems I’d have had no idea about your existence at all if not for Lambert? Those two introductions were possible for five goddamn years that Triss has been my agent but apparently, that’s not enough time for it to happen –”

“Jaskier,” Geralt sighs. He needs some sleep and rest. He misses home, already.

“Yes, dear?” Jaskier asks.

Geralt does want to tell him to shut up but Jaskier’s eyes are too distracting, so what comes out of his mouth is, “Sing something.”

Jaskier obliges with the brightest of smiles.

Week 8

“We can’t –”

“I know,” Jaskier replies, “but that’s the thrill of it, don’t you think, darling?”

Geralt clenches his jaw, breathing heavily. The temptation is so strong he almost trembles, like a bloody teenager. Memories don’t work in his favour now – he still remembers Jaskier’s scent, how his skin, mouth and cum tastes. It sets his nerves on fire, and it takes every ounce of his self-control not to start palming himself through his trousers as Jaskier keeps talking in that damned husky voice.

“You know... your moans are the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He bites down at his lip, hard.

“Moan for me, Geralt.”

Geralt does.

Week 9

It’s been more than two months and gloomy silence hangs between them as they stare at each other through the screen.

“Tell me something funny,” Jaskier says.

Geralt searches for any memory of the kind in his mind. When he finally finds it, he launches into the story, “There was that time when me, Eskel and Lambert went out and got so drunk that we blacked out. Next thing we know, we’re in some stranger’s flat, and Lambert’s wearing actual handcuffs, his hand tied to the guy’s ankle.”

“What?!”

“Yeah. We couldn’t find the keys to uncuff them anywhere and we couldn’t pick the lock either. Me and Eskel had to get clippers to set them free. We still have no idea how we got there.”

Jaskier starts chortling.

“That’s how Lambert met his boyfriend Aiden. They’ve been together for seven years now.”

Jaskier keeps cackling. When Geralt realises that listening to that – probably the most inelegant sound he’s ever heard in his life – warms him to his very core because it’s Jaskier’s laugh, there’s only one thought on his mind.

Fuck.

Week 10

“Another song?”

“Yes,” Jaskier admits, looking almost embarrassed, “I hope you like it.”

“Hmm.”

He knows he will. When he listens to the recording, he quickly finds out he wasn’t wrong. The song is more lively and dramatic than the first one, expressing the wonder of watching your lover move, and it feels like a promise. It makes Geralt look beyond the sea.  

Week 11

“Thank you for the song, siren.”

Jaskier sighs in a love-sick way. “I wish I could kiss you right now. Have got the slightest idea what I’d do to you?”

Geralt smirks. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Jaskier moans and goes on to describe his fantasy in vivid detail.

Week 12

Geralt toys with the gold wolf signet as he waits for Jaskier’s call and tries not to drown in grim thoughts.

Being away from his family starts getting hard. The worst period of deployment begins – he hasn’t been away from home long enough to forget but just enough to miss his loved ones terribly and not be able to get over it. The very second his thoughts wander away from work at hand, he remembers Ciri’s laugh, Yen’s smile, his brother’s embraces and father’s gruffness.

Then there’s Jaskier, with his bloody bright smiles, charm, quick wit and endearing... everything. He makes it so much harder.

They should’ve just parted ways, Geralt muses. They shouldn’t have exchanged their “engagement rings” for safekeeping to give them back to each other after Geralt returns like it’s some ridiculous romance novel.

Jaskier’s ridiculous like that, though, and Geralt’s still hasn’t learnt to say no to him.

When Jaskier greets him cheerfully and asks him about how he’s doing, a smile tugs at Geralt’s lips as he answers, “Better now.”

Part 2

***

A/N: you can also read this on AO3. 

The first song that Jaskier writes is in Icelandic IRL (and it’s so goddamn beautiful) but even the English lyrics are just so stunning, I can 100% imagine Jaskier singing that:  This night is ours, spring in the forrest air Let’s pitch our tent among the berries over there. Lead me, my dearest, to the grove of yesterday Where the brook kindly whispers and the birches sway. Light locks in motion, lingering emotion A rose scented breeze from the Fae Dew drops glitter, the dale is quiet and fair Dreams coming true for lovers sleeping there Heather blushing in the evening sun’s last ray The cool quiet night comes after a perfect day Light locks in motion, lingering emotion A rose scented breeze from the Fae

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

sprung spring | take you home; adam page [m]

Prompt Used:

  “I’ll feel much better if you let me walk you home.” + comfort sex + drunk sloppy sex + “Oh my god you’re so much better than the last person I was with.” + A breathy demand: ���Kiss me” - and what the other person does to respond. + needy/clingy sex

Notes: 

Okay, so… I have literally… Never… used my given name in a work of fiction before and… ya girl found out it’s hard to write dirty things when the OC has your name. Pure self indulgent smut because fuckkit yolo, I needed this. Some of the dialogue prompted above was changed to reflect the situation these two were placed in, fyi. This is mature content, so nobody under 18+ up in these parts. Also, I owe a serious hug to @heelsamizayn​ & @wrestlingismyguiltypleasure​ because no matter how many times I whined and bitched and got all squirmy whilst writing this, they really kept me going and I love them for that.

Warnings: 

alcohol tw ( it’s the OC this time), clingy unprotected sex, sawwwft!Adam, lots of teasing (and hopefully tension, I was  really trying to play at heightening that here) and yeahhh.. It’s tame. I promise ya’ll… I’m going to write actual harder / filthier prompts, I just… had a mighty need. Anyway, that’s all the warnings.

Pairing: 

Adam Hangman Page x OFC, Ashley

Ashley narrowed her eyes at the bottle before glancing up at Shane and shaking her head. “I-I’m good.”

“Aw, c’mon hon. It’s just a little drink.” Shane was stepping closer, right in her space all over again. He’d been plying her with drinks and trying to get her to dance or talk to him -or the most annoying request he’d made so far, “Smile, darlin. Ya look prettier when ya do.” and it was starting to rub him the wrong way, the way she kept resisting. She could almost feel it radiating off of him.

Ashley was at that state of drunk where it was more annoying than endearing and now that it seemed to be irritating him that she wouldn’t just give in, it only gave her all the more reason to resist. It wasn’t as if it wasn’t almost cringe inducingly clear what the asshole thought he was doing and she just wasn’t having it.

At all.

Not even slightly.

Rather than even partially entertain his offer for another drink or to go dance with him, Ashley sighed and rolled her eyes in sheer boredom, taking the drink and taking a sip as she scrolled through her contacts list.

As usual, she hovered over Adam’s number in her phone and that loneliness crept in all over again. More pronounced. More tinged with regret.

She found herself missing him so much that before she even realized it, she’d pulled up the text bubble from their last text conversation and she found herself grimacing at the date.

Had they really not spoken at all in nearly 3 weeks?

And then Ashley found herself going back over the last time they had spoken face to face. Before she realized the true depths of her feelings and Adam drunkenly tried to kiss her and in a blind panic, she’d backed away.

Not because she hadn’t wanted him to kiss her, but because she’d been afraid of what might happen if he did kiss her.

And now, Ashley thought bitterly, hugging herself a little as the thought came, I’m lucky to get a Hi, how are you over text out of him..

With a sigh, she finished scanning their last brief text conversation and then, when Shane cleared his throat impatiently, she remembered that apparently, this guy expected her to pay all her attention to him and she put her phone down. Biting her lip, she settled warm brown eyes on the other man.

“I asked ya if you wanted to dance, darlin. They’re kinda playin our song.” Shane chuckled, holding out his hand. When she started to shake her head no, he gave her a sort of put off glare and muttered something to himself about tonight being a complete waste. All his buddies told him not to walk over and try talking to her; they all told him she was bound tighter than molasses from the knees down and every single night she’d come in this week so far, she’d managed to shoot down anyone who thought they might possibly stand a chance of takin her home. I clearly should’ve listened, Shane found himself thinking, because now I’m out fifty bucks and she looks more annoyed with me each second that passes and that real gorgeous chick I know I coulda won over left an hour ago with Greg.

“W-we don’t have a s-song?” Ashley’s brow quirked and she shook her head, holding up her glass. “I-i’m good, actually.” Ashley muttered as she took a long sip.

Moron, do you seriously think I want to dance to this song… with you? Because no. Ashley thought to herself as she glanced around the crowded bar, face falling when she remembered that Adam wasn’t in town right now, he was on the road. When Ashley realized what Shane had just muttered about the night being a total waste, she mildly shrugged. “I-i don’t r-recall askin y-you t-to come up n’ t-try pourin the booze to me, either. Play s-stupid games, w-win stupid p-prizes.”

As Shane grumbled “Fine, suit yourself, darlin. Don’t come lookin for me when it’s late and you can’t find a ride home.” and made his way onto his next target, Ashley let out a long and deep breath, blowing at dark bangs as they flopped right into her eyes, laughing off Shane’s words.

She went back to her phone, scrolling through her contacts.

“Maybe Shayna’s up.” Ashley mused to herself as she pulled up what she thought was a text conversation she’d been having with her friend earlier in the day while they were both stuck in their office working through lunch.

What she didn’t realize -and wouldn’t just yet, was that she hadn’t texted Shayna at all.

She’d texted Adam… The subject of the earlier conversation.

→ First of all, pretty sure I just completely eviscerated this one guy’s poor ego. *eye roll*. Guess whose NOT having the sex right now bc she gets mouthy when she drinks?

→ This bitch, that’s whomst. In my defense, he was the one who kept pouring the drinks to me. I just took ‘em. You know me, guy stood about as much a chance as… Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I chased him off. Like usual when we’re out at this bar.

→ But seriously though.. Maybe it’s the alcohol and the fact that I’m lonely and I’m salty because I’m not getting cuddles rn like youuuuu but…

→ Okay, u were right earlier.

→ It’s late and I’m drunk, otherwise I’d never say that. Maybe a little lonely too. Enjoy your shallow victory and the sex you’re probably getting rn, lmao. ILY Shayna!

→ I know ur probably busy with Samuel - sexy times and all that but… You win. You’re right.

→ I love him and god… I miss him so much it’s making me an even bigger bitch lately, so.. Sorry for that I guess. I wish I’d just… Kissed him back. Climbed him like an actual tree, giant he is… Shoved him against the wall, tangled my fingers in that hair and tugged his mouth against mine. Maybe even rubbed myself against him a lil bit too, just to see if that yummy cologne he wears all the time rubs off. At least then I’d… Well, I sure as shit wouldn’t be sitting here, shooting down pushy douchebag assholes and drinking alone.

→ Anyway, have your moment. I love Adam Page. I always have and it scares the living hell out of me. You were right. Now there’s only one problem… How do I make the big idiot answer my calls?!?

→ don’t answer that rn. Tomorrow… When drunk Ashley isn’t out and doing dumb shit and can think clearly.

→ Okay, no… answer meeee… I just… I need to know what to do here? Pls. I beg of you. If you don’t answer me, I swear to God, I’m gonna wind up drunk dialing.. >.>

–

The cell phone was going batshit crazy on the bathroom counter and Adam mostly ignored it in favor of soaking under a long hot shower. It had been a long drive; made longer by the fact that he was all beaten and banged up from the past few shows but trying to soldier through as usual. Parts of him admittedly ignored the phone because he thought it was most likely one of three people and none of them he wanted to talk to right now.

No, Adam thought to himself, the one I wanna talk to more than anything I can’t talk to now… He sighed as he thought about the way he got too drunk; out of control. He’d tried to kiss her that night and just the sheer look of panic in big brown eyes right before she bolted the hell away in a hurry had been more than enough to make him realize where he stood.

He couldn’t face her after that either, so he’d been keeping a low profile. Trying to distance from… his actions.

Just thinking about it had him both cringing and feeling that raw surge of pain he felt that night all over again, fresh as ever.

She hadn’t texted him or tried calling either, so that only further confirmed his suspicions. And now, Adam thought to himself as the phone buzzed one last time and he stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist after drying off his face, you lost your best friend. The one you could talk to about anything. You messed that up. Being a jerk that night and coming on way too strong.

He picked up his cell phone only halfway glancing at it at first. But when he actually read all the messages, he wound up dropping the phone on the bathroom tiles with a quiet thud. Then he stood there, trying to get his head around everything he’d just read, all the texts from Ashley to what she apparently thought was her best friend Shayna.

About him.

He took several deep breaths and then got himself at least partially together before even attempting to answer the barrage of texts.

← Where are you?

← Are you drunk right now?

At re-reading that her shooting down men when she went out with Shayna was apparently a common thing, Adam let out a few shakier breaths and bit his lip, raising a hand to his head and dragging thick digits through damp hair as he let it sink in.

Blue eyes scanned the next message after hitting send.

← Nevermind, screw it.

← I’ll be there in 10.

← And me and  you? We’re gonna have ourselves a serious talk.

After throwing back on the jeans and tee shirt he’d had on before showering, he grabbed his keys and headed out. He knew the bar she always went to because they’d hung out there on more than one occasion.

“Bastard who was pourin the drinks to her better hope he’s long gone when I get there.” Adam muttered as protective urges reared their head and he found himself more than a little worried. Ashley wasn’t a drinker by any stretch of the imagination. And given the rambling in the texts she thought she’d sent to Shayna just now, it was.. A safe guess that she was at least two thirds of the way to being too drunk to function.

And it had him more than a little concerned because he knew how the guys at this particular bar got when they saw a pretty girl sitting there, drinking alone. His grip tightened on the wheel as he sped towards the bar in question.

When he was in the parking lot, he tried to call her cell phone but it went straight to voicemail. Without wasting any time, Adam killed the engine to his truck and got out, hurrying into the bar, blue eyes darting around all over as he tried to pick her out in the crowd.

Maybe she hadn’t left yet. God, he could only hope.

–

“I-i’m gonna stop you right there. Just because I-i’m a lil tipsy right now..” Ashley stared up at the man who’d taken the seat next to her at the bar after Shane vacated in a hurry earlier. “Don’t mean I want any part of y-you.”

“Aw, c’mon darlin. Pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be sittin here, drinkin all alone. C’mon.”

“I’d a-actually prefer it, if you w-want the honest G-god’s truth.” Ashley waved over the bartender, signalling for more bourbon in her glass. She fixed her eyes on the man and raised the glass to her lips. “Thanks f-for the drink though.”

Before the guy even got a chance to respond, a throat cleared loud; almost protectively, from behind the two. Ashley didn’t even have to turn around to know exactly who was standing behind her, but what she was having trouble grasping in her tipsy state, was what exactly Adam was doing here now.

“Just do yourself a favor and leave, buddy.” Adam stared down the man intently, arms folded over his chest, moving to step closer to Ashley’s stool, lightly pressing against her from behind.

“Adam? W-what the hell?” Ashley drawled, turning on her stool almost immediately, brown eyes locking on him with a questioning gaze. “I… y-you w-weren’t home.” she could feel herself starting to sober up just a little at his sudden appearance. She frowned a little, shook her head sadly.

Adam moved to step between her legs and he leaned in and down, brushing his lips against her own as he muttered quietly and firmly, “Kiss me.” catching her chin with his finger curled beneath it just when she went to look down. “My eyes and mouth are right here, darlin.” Adam coaxed, gazing at her mouth intently.

“K-kiss me, he s-says.” Ashley drawled, biting her lip, staring right back at his mouth just as intently as he stared at hers.

Her hand raised, resting across the back of his neck, fingers tangling in and tugging his hair free from the bun he’d thrown it into, threading through it once she had. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer and her other hand curled in the front of his tee shirt, tugging his mouth down to her level a little better. Once she’d done that, her lips trailed lazily over his mouth, tracing the shape of his lips, making him give a quiet groan and his eyes flutter open and closed. By the time her tongue was slipping past his teeth, his tongue was fighting against it for complete control of the kiss and he’d leaned into her so much that her back was right up against the edge of the bar. His teeth scraped at her lower lip as the kiss deepened, both of them panting for their next breath and dizzy from it.

His hands slid beneath her ass and he scooped her up, not bothering to break the kiss just yet or untangle her from his body. Her legs squeezed his waist harder and she rubbed against him more than a little. Once they were out in the parking lot again, Adam stopped, sitting her on the railing around an outdoor sitting area, pulling her into another deep and almost bruising kiss.

“I-I was just… about to l-leave. Walk.”

Adam chuckled and shook his head no, nodding to his truck. “I’d feel much better if you’d let me take you home, darlin.”

Ashley eyed him, hints of a pout on her lips. “Y-you s-stopped e-even t-talkin to m-me.” she sighed and shook her head sadly, muttering under her breath, “I-it is m-my fault.” and Adam tilted her chin to make her meet his gaze when she looked down, shaking his head. “It’s not, darlin. Not at all.”

“I-I fucking r-ran. S-seriously?” Ashley whined, her legs squeezing at his waist as she wrapped them around him all over again, staring at his chest for a few seconds, blowing out an exasperated breath, because the more she thought about her choice to run the night he finally kissed her, the more it did truly exasperate her. Of all the times to panic… It had to be then. The worst possible one.

Adam chuckled and leaned down, muttering softly against her mouth, “If it makes you feel any better, darlin.. You made up for it. And it drove me crazy, not talkin to ya.”

“G-good.” Ashley giggled and poked out her tongue as she looked at him. “B-because it m-made m-me really cranky. H-holy s-shit, so cranky.” she giggled again, making Adam laugh and scoop her up into his arms, making his way towards the truck. “I know.”

“H-how?” Ashley’s brow raised as she stared up at him, resting her head against his shoulder. “I-I literally o-only told Shayna…”

“You texted the wrong person, actually.” Adam teased as he unlocked his truck, sitting her into the passenger seat. Ashley’s mouth opened and closed and she palmed her face, groaning in sheer embarrassment while laughing softly.

Adam got into the truck, starting the engine and Ashley was raising the console, curling into his side as soon as she’d moved to the middle to sit, tucking her legs on the seat beside her. Adam chuckled, slipping his arm around her shoulders. “You’re awfully cuddly tonight, know that?”

“Mhm.” Ashley purred, her lips brushing against his neck, making him grip the wheel just a little tighter. By now, the embarrassment over what she’d done was melting away and her internal filter -the little she actually possessed to begin with, was at an all time low thanks to having drinks poured into her all night by random and far lesser appealing men. “Is that a b-bad thing?”

Adam bit back a groan and barely resisted bucking his hips as he felt her lips clumsily moving along the side of his neck as she nuzzled into him and chuckling quietly, he gave an answer. “Not at all, darlin. Except for the fact that you’re getting me all sorts of stirred up right now.” he muttered, the truck coasting to a stop beneath the red light a block away from his place. When he did, he turned to look at her, wasting no time in pulling her mouth up to his as his hand went from squeezing her thigh to slipping between them, rubbing her through her jeans as he swore quietly because he could feel how warm she was and it only made him think about how wet she might actually be.

“Maybe t-that’s what I’m trying to do.” came pouring out before she could stop herself from saying it. Not that she would have either way, but she was at least trying to show a little restraint, still partially shocked that he was there and that she’d somehow managed to confess everything to him under the guise of texting Shayna.

Maybe it was a good thing that happened, Ashley thought to herself as she slipped her hand down, trailing it along the inside of his thigh, then up… Sucking in a sharp breath when her hand settled palm down against the bulge already straining and growing, pushing against his jeans. Adam’s hips snapped and he locked eyes with her, biting his lip, the hand between her thighs starting to move a little harder and a lot faster. Ashley rocked her hips against his hand and sucked in a sharp breath as Adam leaned in, teeth tugging at her earlobe and catching as he muttered against it in a whisper, “If that’s so, darlin.. You’re in for it. Just wait.”

“What if I don’t w-wanna wait, hm?” Ashley muttered as her lips brushed against his neck again and Adam’s breath caught in his throat before making the remark aloud, “Got a lot to make up for, me and you.”

“Mhm.” Ashley could feel herself getting wetter and wetter with every single word he said. She knew he had to feel her thighs clenching tighter with each word he said because his hand was currently buried between them, palm down against her dripping and throbbing heat, rubbing through her jeans and by now she’d trapped his hand where it was. A shiver passed through her body as she continued to rock her hips against his hand, a quiet whimper of frustration coming when all that lead to was him, slowing down way too much for her liking at the moment. She pouted up at him and bit her lip as he leaned in, closer and closer, pulling her face towards his.

“Could take all night.” Adam was turning his head slightly, tugging her neck closer as he ghosted his lips along it, the pressure of his hand reaching an almost feverish frenzy as he growled against soft skin, “Maybe even tomorrow.”

“Oh?” Ashley’s eyes fluttered open and shut and she bit her lip, her hips rocking faster to meet his hand and the way it cupped and rubbed at her heat. Just enough to make a little friction, not by any means enough to give the amount of friction she actually craved.

He was teasing her.

Just the thought had her pouting in sheer frustration as she locked eyes with him. “Tease.”

“Ain’t exactly teasing if I know exactly what I’m gonna do to you when I get you home.” Adam pointed out, giving her a smirk. Ashley swallowed hard, breath catching in her throat at his words. Her mouth opened and closed and it had Adam chuckling quietly because this was one of very few times he’d truly seen her with a complete lack of something clever to say in response.

“Cat got your tongue, darlin?” he practically purred the words as his hand started to massage all over again and almost instantly, she started to rock against it more urgently.

“Adam… Fuck.” she gasped quietly, eyes fluttering open and closed as she started to palm at the way he was strained against his jeans.

The light went green and the careful and almost teasing movement of her hand in his lap felt so good that for about half a second, Adam didn’t realize it had.

“Light’s green, Adam.” Ashley’s voice was teasing, she gave a soft giggle as Adam took a few shaky breaths, nodding as he hurried from beneath the green light, turning down the next street. His house was in view, only a few seconds away and yet… It felt like a million miles away.

Almost the second he was parked at the curb in front of it, he was reaching out, pulling her over the console and into his lap, his hands and mouth all over her, mouth latching onto her neck and leaving a string of hickies down the side as he bucked himself into her from below and his hands disappeared up her shirt, slipping beneath her bra before finally getting frustrated at how in the way it was and unfastening it, gripping her breasts in his hands, palming and squeezing at them as he growled against her mouth when his mouth finally rose to meet and conquer her lips again.

He leaned into her so heavily that her back met the steering wheel and the horn in the center, making them both laugh only to have the sounds of their laughter swallowed by a deep and frenzied, needy kiss. The kiss broke and Ashley backed away slightly, biting her lip, wiggling around in his lap, bucking herself right against the prominent bulge strained and about to burst through his jeans. “I think that’s our sign to go inside, Adam.” she muttered the words as she felt her face burning hot and she bit her lip, squirming around in his lap just a little more, harder, desperate to keep the friction going. Adam nodded, killing the engine and getting out of the truck, carrying her up the steps, stopping to unlock his front door, with her body pinned between his body and the door as he did so. Twice he had to grip harder just because she started to trail her lips down his neck and chuckling quietly into the kiss he stole, he gave a triumphant and joking ‘Yee haw’ when he got the door unlocked at last. Ashley gave a soft whimper as he stepped through the door, shutting it behind him and locking it. He sat her down on a sturdy console table that ran the length of the back of his sofa and stepped away to pull off his boots and Ashley took a few deep breaths, tried to pull herself together.

This was really happening.

Finally.

Adam met her gaze as he straightened to stand again and he stepped between her legs, devouring her mouth hungrily, his hands cupping her cheeks and caressing. “You’re sure, right? Because once we cross the line, darlin…”

Ashley gripped his jaw, guiding her mouth back down against his greedily as she whispered needily into the kiss, “Fuck me, Adam. I don’t wanna remember anyone else but you.”

Adam’s teeth clenched her lower lip; tugging. She was clinging to him and it was driving him crazy because there was… Still too much clothing in between them, keeping them apart. He scooped her up off the console table he’d sat her on to take off his boots and started to carry her down the hall, stopping halfway to put her back against the wall, tearing her shirt up over her head, tossing it onto the floor. Ashley tugged impatiently at his tee shirt, finally getting it up and over his head, tossing it onto the floor a few feet away from where her own shirt lie. Adam did away with the pesky bra next, letting it hit the floor softly, an almost primal growl bursting from his lips as he dipped his head low, dancing his mouth over the tops of her breasts, leaving behind beard burn and littering soft skin with bites with each time his mouth connected with her bare skin.

Ashley writhed around in his grasp, rocking herself into him, gripping his hips tighter with her legs, whimpering aloud, her head falling back and softly hitting the wall as her eyes fluttered open and shut. Her hand gripped his shoulder, fingertips digging into and dancing over his skin, sending a shiver through his body and making him groan as he glanced up at her, biting his lip. Ashley stared right back, both of them struggling to catch their breath but too caught up in the moment to bother putting a halt to the deep and biting and almost bruising kisses. She took his face in her hands, pulling his mouth deep against her own, her tongue trailing over the outline of his lips before parting them, her body rubbing against him even more frantically. Her hand raised to tangle in his hair and in the process, a photo clattered to the hallway floor noisily.

“Let’s take you to bed, hmm?” Adam’s breath against her skin as he mumbled the words into her neck quietly had Ashley whimpering and rocking against him even more frantically. Adam growled quietly as he bucked himself right back against her, starting the walk down the hall to his bedroom all over again. He kicked it open, a quiet creak of the frame echoing through the stillness as he stepped inside and shut it behind him, tossing her against the mattress as he stared down at her hungrily. Ashley went to raise up, reaching for the waistband of his jeans but Adam pushed her back against the mattress all over again, making her pout and give a frustrated whimper as he chuckled softly and leaned down, hands going down her bare skin, sending goosebumps to it’s surface as he lowered his mouth down, ghosting it slowly over her abdomen before raising to whisper next to her ear, “Uh uh darlin. Let me take care of you.” in a husky and firmer tone.

He started to lazily trail his mouth over bare skin all over again, the blunt of his teeth tugging at her nipples as his tongue circled them and he caught her eye, winking at her, his hands drifting down between them, unbuttoning and unzipping her jeans, lingering to rub and squeeze her cunt before hooking in her waistband to tug her jeans and panties down all at once. Ashley tried to rock her hips upward, desperate to feel any kind of friction, frustrated beyond belief by all Adam’s teasing, but almost the instant she dared it, Adam was on his knees, kneeling in front of her, parting her legs with his hands and ghosting his mouth up the inside of her thigh slowly, occasionally placing a soft bite against her skin.

When her fingers tangled in his hair, he grunted against her skin, grazing his teeth against it, his tongue slowly making a lazy broad swipe upward. Ashley whimpered when she tried yet again to rock her hips against the way Adam had her pinned, just hoping to at least make an attempt to steer him where she needed him most, but he chuckled quietly, the shake of his head that he gave making soft hair brush against her skin and sending a shiver through her body. “I’m holdin you still for a reason, darlin. Now c’mon, be a good girl. Be still and let me take care of you.”

“Adam, please.” Ashley begged, trying again to rock her hips upward, only to pout when she realized just how determined Adam was to hold her in place and tease her relentlessly.

“Be patient, darlin. We got all night.” Adam’s tongue was trailing lazily over her folds as he said it, the taste of her on his tongue making him half growl his words as they left his mouth. He smirked a little to himself when he felt her not only try to rock her hips upward to meet his mouth but her hand curling in the comforter on top of his bed and in his hair, tugging as she whimpered and whined, her cries of frustrated pleasure echoing off the walls of his bedroom and shattering the silence around them.

Her breath caught in her throat as she felt his tongue make a long stripe over one side of her cunt. And then, straight across the middle, finally, another long stripe across the opposite side to which he lazily chuckled “A.” as he met her gaze with a teasing smirk. Ashley rose up slightly, staring down at him, biting her lip as a series of needy whimpers and loud whines left her mouth and her toes dug into the comforter. One long and broad stripe and then another curved stripe had her shivering and arching her back, fingers tangling in his hair as she tugged gently, “Fuck.”

“D.” Adam was at it again with the smirk, lowering his head almost a split second later to get back to what he was doing. His tongue trailed a familiar pattern over her folds and he muttered quietly against her cunt, “A”. and Ashley shivered even more because it hit her what he was doing, spelling out his name. “Adam, please… Need you, baby, please.” she begged almost frantically, desperate to ease some of the ache rapidly building because of all his teasing. Despite the urgent begging, Adam’s tongue rolled lazily, the one slanted stripe required to form one side of the M and then the two stripes required to form the middle of the M and finally, the last stripe. “M.” he groaned as his nose bumped right against her pelvic mound and he buried his tongue as deep in her pussy as he could, tilting her hips upward, pulling her closer to his mouth as he savored the taste of her as it started to fill his mouth. He could feel her body starting to tense up and another smirk came, pressing against her soaked warmth as he started to slow way down on the movements of his tongue. When he felt her fingers tugging at his hair again and noticed that she was digging her toes into the bed too, the smirk on his face grew.

Yeah, he was teasing. Taking his time with her, making this last. He’d waited so long already, now that it was happening, he was just… Really savoring the moment.

“Adam, please!” Ashley choked out, back arching away from the mattress slightly, eyes fluttering open and shut as she tried to keep frustrated tears at bay. When she felt him leaving a string of bite marks on the inside of her thighs, she whimpered and tried to rock her hips against his grip at them to no avail.

“Not yet, darlin. Just a little longer, I swear.” Adam breathed against her cunt as his tongue rolled lazily over the folds before slowly slipping in all over again, starting over with his little teasing torture. Ashley’s grip tightened in his hair and he paused, glancing up at her with lust blown eyes. “Pull as hard as you want while my head is buried between your thighs, darlin. C’mon. I like it.” his tone was firm, almost demanding.

And it only served to make her even wetter, she could feel the wetness coating her thighs, dripping. Adam growled quietly, tongue moving a little faster, flicking over her clit, lingering and trailing a lazy circle, grazing his teeth against the circular bundle of nerves as he chuckled against her, “What’s wrong, darlin?”

“You know what you’re…” Ashley writhed beneath the grip Adam had on her lower body, keeping her legs spread wide for him as his tongue slowly dove into and out of her soaked heat, “doing. Tease.”

“Oh, I’m not teasin at all, darlin.” Adam chucked again quietly, “Just said you better not dare cum yet.”

“Adam, it’s all I want to do! Fucking… ahh, hurts. I’m aching, baby, c’mon… Please?”

Adam continued to lick, adding two fingers and Ashley hissed sharp, her breath catching in her throat, her entire body tensing as she tried to do as she was told and resist the urge to cum. The more teasing she endured at his fingers and mouth, the harder that became.

He could feel her body tense up so tight, the way she was propped on her elbows to watch him had her arms shaking. He definitely felt her toes digging into the comforter by now too. Giving a soft nip to the inside of her right thigh as he stopped for a second or two, he muttered quietly, “Okay darlin. Now.” before raising her hips just a little, burying his tongue back deep inside her, rocking her hips against his face faster, his tongue swirling inside her cunt in a frenzy as he felt her shaking all over, heard her gasping for her next breath as she moaned out loud over and over, her cries of pleasure and his name filling the air and driving him over the edge, making him lick and suck harder, faster. He loosened his grip on her hips and she rocked them against his face almost shamelessly, he muttered quietly against her skin, “C’mon, darlin. Don’t stop.” breathing heavily.

Ashley’s hips started to slow and Adam lowered her legs, crawling up her body after dragging the back of his hand across his mouth, his eyes locked on her intently as he leaned down, pulling her into a deep kiss, breaking the kiss quickly to raise up, his hand lowering and wrapping around his thick length just to trace the tip right over and slightly between her folds, shivering himself in anticipation, growling quietly. His hips pinned her hips against the bed and she dug her nails into broad shoulders as he sank into her slowly, carefully, stopping to kiss her cheeks and mutter against her mouth, “You okay, darlin?”

“Yeah.” Ashley answered, trying to rock her hips against him once she was adjusted to the way he stretched her out and filled her up. Her nails trailed lightly across his shoulders, digging in slightly when he sank into her even deeper, his hips smacking against her hips softly and slowly, placing kisses all over her mouth and face, trailing them down her throat as he muttered lazily, “So sweet I could eat you up.” as he met her gaze and slowly licked his lips. Ashley wrapped her legs around his hips and the new angle had him groaning, his hips sporadically crashing against her own for a few seconds as she took his cock as deep inside her as he could go, buried to the hilt. Her hands moved over his face, raising, dragging through his hair after pulling his mouth against her own for a deep and slow and greedy kiss. The kiss broke and he gave a lazy peck at the corner of her mouth, driving deeper and slower into her as he did and muttering softly, “Gonna get way too used to this, I think.”

“I already am.” Ashley breathed out against his skin, making him shiver. He’d always had a weakness when it came to gentle touches against his neck. The fact that she seemed to be enjoying brushing her mouth against the spot, or gently nipping at it with her teeth only had him giving a quiet growl and slamming himself into her slower and with much longer strokes. When she tried to speed him up, he chuckled and his hands lowered, gripping her hips, holding them so that he controlled the pace as he muttered against the shell of her ear, “What’s your hurry, darlin? We’ve got all night.”

Bleak sunshine was starting to peek through the curtains by now and Ashley giggled softly against his neck as she clung to him and he continued to attempt slowly and deeply fucking her into the mattresses on his bed, “It’s morning, actually.” as her forehead softly bumped against his collarbone and he chuckled as soon as the realization hit him too. “Well then, smarty pants, we have the rest of the day. Either way,” Adam’s mouth trailed lazily over her skin, leaving an erratic trail of marks in it’s wake, “we’ve got nothin but time.”

“You make a good point.” Ashley’s breath caught in her throat as his cock bottomed out, brushing against a spot that felt almost magical with each time he did so. She clung to his body, her moans and whimpers only drowned out by his answering groans and the occasional growl.

“I’m so.. Fuck, I’m so close. Please?” her begging had him giving a soft and quiet laugh, capturing her mouth in a deep and breathtaking kiss as he muttered into it, “Me too, darlin.. C’mon, let go for me.”

He sped up his thrusts, almost frantically chasing his oncoming orgasm as she dug her legs into his sides and her nails into his shoulders, raking them down his back as he growled against her skin, feeling her clench tight around him, feeling her body start to spasm, feeling her biting at his skin gently as he fucked her through her orgasm and straight into his own. He tried to stop but every time he tried, she’d grab hold of his hips and rock against him, begging for more until finally, he was throbbing, emptying inside deep, filling her up as he pressed into her heavily, covering her face in kisses before lazily kissing her mouth and having her deepen it as she breathed against his lips, “ That was amazing.”

“Better than the last guy, right?” Adam was only half teasing, but her answer really went a long way to fully reassure him when as he sank back against the mattress, pulling her on top of him and wrapping his arms around her while staring up, she smiled and gave a soft giggle, nodding as she leaned down and mumbled into his mouth, “You were so much better than the last guy. Ten million times better, baby.” before deepening the kiss he gave…

[ninja-go-to-therapy]

I don’t trust Kat to give you context, so I’ll do it this time.

I decided to write something based on some stuff we were talking about. I don’t have the most confidence and this is more related to her stuff anyways, so while convincing me to post it, she offered to host it here. This has the added bonus of it being HER that hits post, limiting my chance to chicken out.

So enjoy this out of context thing I wrote because Kat is a bad influence.

-grungekitty-77

Eleanor knew she was an artist from a young age. From the moment she took he first picture she knew she’d found her calling. Other girls played dolls, she focused on posing them. She took photos of everything, always looking for something she hadn’t seen before. She got bored often and nothing frustrated her more than having nothing interesting to photograph.

From a young age she was hailed as a prodigy. Her eye was so unique, and she had a knack for finding things and making them interesting, things nobody realized could be that interesting. So, she had no trouble getting a start at a studio.

She hated family portraits. She hated them with a passion. They always wanted the same straight on angle and it was so painfully boring. They were frustrating to work with, they were all the same stiff smiles, one shot no different than the next. No talent or expression. She’d outright refuse them if they weren’t keeping the lights on.

She was ready for another grueling photoshoot that brought no fulfillment and wasted her talents. This family had an unruly kid.

Eleanor never really go the appeal of kids. They were loud and needy and usually a mess. They did provide more interest than their parents though. The boy screamed randomly at one point, much to his parents, aunts, uncles, and grandparents’ dismay.

He laughed at their frowns and Eleanor captured it. The emotions and dynamics were the most interesting thing she’d gotten so far.

The boy got lectured by his mom and pouted. The adults were back to their static smiles, but he displayed his emotions, not looking at the camera or standing straight. Eleanor captured that too, focusing on the boy’s emotional journey.

The adults got frustrated with him as he fidgeted, and their smiles dropped. His mother pulled him aside and screamed at him. He shrunk down and started to cry. She captured it.

Then she hugged him, telling him that she loved him and just needed him to behave. Eleanor captured her favorite shot of the shoot. It was a photo she’d have framed and hung in her house for years to come and would be her favorite for a long time.

This child, crying and filled with shame, clinging to his mother, comforted by the very cause of his tears. The vulnerability, the emotions, the submission, it was all something Eleanor hadn’t seen before.

The rest of the shoot went normally, the kid even having some real fun by the end, but Eleanor never forgot how that mother had the power to control her child’s emotions like that.

Family portraits stopped being so boring after that day. Eleanor stopped focusing on trying to make something worthwhile within the stifling constraints, and instead focused on how much power mothers had over the children. How if Eleanor needed something from them, the mother would provide it. Telling the child directly rarely worked but asking the mother to tell the child always did. It was like they weren’t interacting with the world as their own beings, they could only understand what was filtered through their mothers. Eleanor became obsessed with that power. The power to control another’s reality like that. A mother was her child’s whole world, and she could shape that world as she pleased.

Eventually her artistic work gained enough of a following that she never had to do a family portrait again, much to her relief. She hated working through the mothers. She may’ve been fascinating with their power over their children, but she wanted to have her own and constantly borrowing theirs was getting irksome. She wanted to shape her own worlds, and not have to work around the worlds these women had already shaped.

She still didn’t want a baby though. She wanted the control of her subject being a mother brought, not a child to raise.

Her dilemma sent her on a path to find others like her, a path that led to a private online forum. It was full of people like her, people that were obsessed with controlling, with shaping a world and having total power over it. She finally had people that understood what was going on in her head. Not all of them approached it from the same angle as her, but they all wanted to control a subject. She made good friends.

Itssnowing: have you thought about a pet?

SkullsandRibbons: maybe….

Itssnowing: Get a pretty little thing and train it. I know where you can get a lovely little purebred. It might fill the hole.

Eleanor took her friend up on his suggestion and got Lucy.

At first Eleanor was happy to have a new subject, but quickly she got frustrated. Lucy didn’t listen. She couldn’t get Lucy to do what she wanted, and all of her shots were off center or blurry because Lucy refused to hold a position.

Itssnowing suggested she send her off to get trained and Eleanor again, took his advice.

It worked. Lucy came back ready to obey orders. Eleanor was delighted for about a month and a half.

Then Lucy got boring. She looked the same as any other pure breed. She had the same few emotions and responses; the interest ran out. Eleanor ran out of new things to capture. She hated taking repeats of shots she already had.

Lucy was sold.

Itssnowing: Why? I would love having something so pretty in my house. A living, breathing piece of art that’s just for you.

SkullsandRibbons: Why would I want something I can see anywhere? There’s nothing new about it. Nothing unique. Nothing raw! Nothing new to see. It’s boring!

Itssnowing: I guess I’m just boring then. I’d much rather a quiet afternoon at home with a pretty little thing snuggled on my lap.

SkullsandRibbons: Well you’re an office worker, I’m an artist! I need something fulfilling!

Itssnowing: Suit yourself then.

SkullsandRibbons: I’m gonna go to the shelter tomorrow, see if they had anything interesting.

Itssnowing: You want a MUTT!?

SkullsandRibbons: Absolutely! No two are identical. I might actually capture something unique!

Itssnowing: I don’t understand you… but I suppose I don’t have to understand your tastes.

Eleanor laughed at her friend. She shared almost everything with Snowing. He got all the shots she took of her new rescue. He even admitted that the pictures were marvelous, though he still had his own tastes.

Eleanor got bored too easily. She decided to foster, so that she’d get a different subject every once and a while. She definitely preferred the rescues over Lucy. They all had stories and intrigue and were far more dependent on her attention. She could brighten them right up with a little affection, and then destroy them by ignoring them for a minute. Best was that she could do it all over again and it still worked.

But dogs got boring. She needed something fresh, something entirely unique, something that screamed at her to be captured and focused on.

She was browsing the internet one day and a headline caught her interest. She’d vaguely heard about the ninja, but she hadn’t actually seen any real pictures yet, so she clicked the article just to see what kind of pictures it had.

The green ninja made her eyes roll. Scared boy trying too hard to look strong and important and nothing else. A few candid shots had potential, but he seemed to only be himself when he didn’t know he was being seen, which would be pointless to explore with a camera.

The white ninja made her cringe. He had nothing to give. Well, the interesting anatomy could be worked with, but the ninja himself was a stiff subject that had nothing to see.

The blue ninja was all energy, no form. She could probably get some good shots, but it would get very one note after a short while.

The black ninja at least seemed to know how to hold himself, though he didn’t seem to have any interest in being a good subject. He’d make a decent model for brand work, but he’d be worthless in any artistic projects.

The girl was a brat. She refused to be a subject. It was a non-starter.

It was the red ninja that made her stop breathing. Then she boiled over in rage.

He was…He was perfect. He was gorgeous. He had an effortless look with just enough edge to make you want to know more. He was stunning, and the framing was the worst she’d ever seen!

They focused on the complete wrong place, and the lighting was just….oh it burned her. Here was this boy being the perfect subject, all the stars aligned, and the photographer ruined it!

She searched him up, she had to know what he looked like when he was given the attention he deserved.

Kai Smith.

She found his social media and started to scroll through. He posted his own pictures and he had no training in photography, but at least he wasn’t ruining anything. She poured over each selfie. His eyes burned with mischief and passion, his face had beautiful angles no matter which way he turned, and he seemed to love being observed. He was preforming. Giving pieces of himself for others to see. Eleanor continues to scroll and fantasized about capturing those pieces and propping them up correctly. She could make something magical out of him. His expressions told stories, he wore his emotions like jewels and Eleanor had to know more.

She spent the next week obsessing over everything she could learn about Kai Smith, her new muse. And she found something she hated even more than boring subjects, seeing someone mishandle a beautiful subject like Kai.

They all were too focused on Lloyd, who looked uncomfortable half the time he was on camera.

Nya wasn’t always an awful subject; she seemed a lot more willing to be captured if her brother was there with her.

She was right about Cole. He had the training, but no passion for it.

Jay was an attention hog and she found herself annoyed with him. Too overpowering, he didn’t leave the artist any room to work.

Zane was everything she thought he was. No surprises there.

But Kai…

The pictures where he was angry were the best. He had such a raw emotion. He let everyone see how he felt and let the image have the power of what he felt. He let his soul be seen.

She learned all she could about him.

He had a tragic backstory. Something with teeth, no wonder he had a touch of a wounded look. He had no mother to shape the world for him. This interested Eleanor even more. Kai seemed to have filtered the world for his little sister, and seemingly Lloyd too, but he seemed to lack anyone that could reshape his world as they saw fit.

He was wayward child.

The thought made Eleanor smile. Kai had no mother to compete with. There was no woman she’d have to fight with to take control of his world. He was what she had wanted so desperately. A beautiful and interesting subject she could control.

Oh, how she’d love to have him.

[snarkwrites]

FFT: treat you as good as my leather ; juice ortiz

Notes:

So this one is the one in which Hazel is the one in trouble. In Rough Rider, another part of their story, it was Juice and Hazel patches him up. My bad, oops. This is why I should’ve stopped when I got tired last night. Anyway, here it is.

FYI - Alex belongs to @rampagewriting​ in her don’t fear the reaper fic; that’s her OC that’s with Chibs there. No, these two stories aren’t connected ( hers is.... so much better than anything I could possibly ever write) but.. she was nice enough to allow me to connect them for this when the muse struck. 

Summary:

Hazel only feels safe with one person. It’s just too bad that she feels like the one person probably hates her. When she turns up at Juices apartment post home invasion, things take a surprising turn.

Pairing:

Juice Ortiz x OFC, Hazel

Warnings:

mentions of a home invasion, violence & fluffy shit.

It was really the only place she felt safe and that thought had her in a state of internal uproar; that she felt safest around a man who couldn’t hate her more if he tried. At least he’s tolerant lately was the only comforting thought Hazel had as she raised her hand to knock on the apartment door belonging to Juice Ortiz.

“Juice!”

Juice eyed the door of his apartment in both amusement and confusion as soon as Hazel Teller started to pound on it. He stopped what he was doing and sat down the spatula in his hand, making his way over to the door. “This some kinda joke, Haze? It’s almost 1 am.”

“ No, no joke. I need you to open the door, please? The cops just left my apartment and I just… I couldn’t stay there alone tonight. Please open the door.” Hazel was beginning to question why exactly she didn’t just go to Alex’s place or over to Jax and Tara’s. But then she remembered that Tara would insist on sticking her nose in and Jax… Jax would have prospects camped out wherever she went and Hazel simply refused to live like that. She was trying to build a life for herself that didn’t revolve totally around the MC.

Besides, Hazel winced as she caught sight of her reflection in the screen of her phone, Jax and her mom had more than enough on their plate lately. And going to Clay with what was going on was totally out of the question. She still blatantly refused to acknowledge the slim odds that Clay might actually be her real father. The two hadn’t ever gotten along and she’d seen the scary lengths he’d go to to protect someone.

She didn’t want someone’s blood on her hands.

Juice eyed the door cautiously. Her tone held strong notes of panic and it wasn’t often he actually heard Hazel Teller really and truly afraid. It compelled him to open his apartment door, leaning in the frame. Almost the instant his eyes settled on her face and neck and arms, he was pulling her into the apartment quickly and locking all three deadbolts on his door behind him. “Haze, what the fuck happened?”

“Home invasion. I.. was showering and some assholes broke in. I caught ‘em, tried to fight ‘em off.” Hazel’s adrenaline was still coursing, she sank down onto the couch, putting her head in her hands.

If she told him a Mayan was responsible, he’d go and he’d tell everybody at the MC. Which to be fair, they did need to know. But on the other hand, the Mayan wasn’t just a rival MC club member, the Mayan was a person who resorted to desperate measures because he needed quick cash. She only knew he belonged to the Mayans because while she’d been struggling against him in their fight, she’d seen his cutte.

Or that’s what Hazel was kind of hoping, anyway. She didn’t want to make an already bad situation infinitely worse. Everyone was still on ultra-high alert because of what the Aryans had done to her mother and Alex not so long ago. To tell them that a Mayan just happened to pick her apartment for a random break-in? Probably not a good idea.

“Did you get a look at the guy?” Juice got this distinct feeling that there was so much more to the story than she was telling, but right now, he was freaking out and it literally felt like his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. “Does Jax know? I’m gonna go ca-” he went to go and grab his cell phone but Hazel grabbed hold of his wrist, stopping him. “I don’t want him to know tonight, either. Look.. I just need you to trust me, okay? Please, can you do that?”

He took a deep breath and rubbed his hand over his head, staring her down intently as he nodded towards her visible bruises. “Okay, so how the hell are you plannin on hidin all that?”

“I’m not. I’m going to tell Jax and my mother tomorrow I just.. Do not feel like dealing with a thousand questions tonight, okay? Look.. It’s late, I’m still freaking out…”

“And you came here.” Juice couldn’t help the puzzled look he gave her as he asked the question. “Why? I mean, last time I checked, baby girl.. You n’ me don’t exactly get along the best. You kinda hate me.”

Hazel swallowed hard. And then, upon gazing down so she didn’t have to meet his intent questioning gaze she realized that she hadn’t let go of his wrist. And that she was actually standing a lot closer than she thought. Her breath caught in her throat and she debated heavily on whether she needed to let go of his hand or not. She really didn’t want to. It felt… better somehow.

So, she didn’t let go. And maybe she stepped just a little closer, their bodies just barely grazing against each other. She sighed quietly and her shoulders slumped. “I don’t hate you.”

Juice gaped a few seconds and then he thought about it. Deep down, whether he chose to own up to it or not, he definitely had some very strong feelings about her. Despite their fighting and everything, he’d always find himself getting angry and territorial real quick if he even thought someone was about to try to hurt her somehow. “You don’t, hm?”

“No, actually… It’s more towards the opposite end of the spectrum. I just… If I don’t fight what I feel, I know things are gonna go badly. They always do for me. Always.” Hazel placed heavy emphasis on the last word, gazing up at him as she took a deep breath. She needed to just get it off her chest and out of her system.

“I came here, Juice, because I feel better around you. But if you want me to go…” she started to step away and Juice reached out, grabbing her and pulling her close again, away from the door. “No, no. You don’t have to go, baby girl. I don’t want you leavin, especially like that.” he leaned down a little, his other hand raising to her cheek. “C’mon, let’s get ya cleaned up and get some ice on your eye. I hope you didn’t hit ‘em like you hit me that one time. Barely felt it.” Juice snickered as she lightly popped at his bicep.

“Not funny. And no, I didn’t. I actually have a hell of a swing with a wooden bat.”

Juice chuckled and pulled out a chair, guiding her down into it, taking the chair beside it and pulling it so that he sat in front of her. After grabbing a faded dish towel and putting ice into it, he sat down, leaning in and pressing the towel to her face. She cringed and bit her lip and he muttered quietly, “I know it probably hurts. But I’m gonna be as gentle as I can with ya, okay? I’m gonna treat you as good as my leather, baby girl.”

Hazel could see from the look in his eyes that he wasn’t just applying the words to her current situation. She swallowed hard, locking eyes with him and nodding. “And I’ll do the same for you… I.. I mean it, okay?”

[spiritmaiden23]

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.

fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

My muse is:   canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless /

Is your character popular in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK. For sure, for being the cutest of cutes!! All Zeldas are cute though but she was the blueprint ;v; 

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK. I’m a devout christian virgin I would never ever look at those kind of topics the only hot I see is the flames of hell for even considering this smh smh bUT NO FOR REAL THO I’M NOT REALLY SURE???? I mostly see people gushing over how cute she is rather than hot. 

Is your character considered strong in the fandom?  YES / NO / In some aspects. We don’t really see Skyward Sword Zelda’s abilities in the games as we did in, say, BOTW where she goes full goddess mode. Aside from blessing the master sword, sealing herself away, and the implications that the game gives us with Zelda being not only a student at the knight school but also a badass warrior goddess in her past life; I’d say she’s pretty up there in terms of strength. 

Are they underrated?  YES / NO. GONNA GO WITH YES AND NO ON THIS. As a character, Zelda is far from underrated she’s actually cliche blonde character we all love and stan but in this incarnation.... also yes and no because while I see a lot of people like SS Zelda keep in mind that SS is the black sheep of the series so not a lot of people have good opinions on it. I’ve seen some say she’s annoying, too shoujo or even Mary Sue at some points and hweoh we all know that the last one ain’t even close to true since she’s far from bland and OP written. But it’s all a matter of perspective!  

Were they relevant for the main story?  YES / NO.

Were they relevant for the main character? YES / NO /

Are they widely known in their world?  YES / NO.

How’s their reputation?  GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL / FOR THE MOST PART, if we were talking verses like say witch verse she’d have more of a neutral reputation considering witches aren’t really well-liked ;-; 

How strictly do you follow canon?  

I try to do the best that I can do given with what we’re working with here all while adding my own spin to her characterization because we all have different perspective when it comes to art! How I see Zelda is someone who’s bubbly, playful (big ol bully hweoh), a bit of a busybody if she feels she needs to step in due to worrywart tendencies yet highly responsible and carries a wisdom that’s beyond her age, she doesn’t like seeing people bullying others and isn’t afraid to put her foot down to speak her mind if something is up. While kindness is sorta her strong suit I wanted to go beyond “nice girl” and just showcase other sides of her too, hence why main verse is typically set during the events of SS because here we see her growth into the girl we see at the end of the game where she’s melancholic of her past but is looking forward to seeing what the future holds and wants to build a brighter tomorrow with Link by her side along with friends and loved ones. I’m not at all confident in playing as her, despite playing as Zelda since 2017 haha!! So I can’t really say that I’m super strict in following canon considering that’s how I view the character through the actions and dialogue throughout the game, perhaps the creators had something different in mind than how I see Sky Zelda.   

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals.  

DO YOU LIKE WHOLESOME GIRLS?! Wait no, hold on, that’s a little too vague, so let’s try that again. Do you like wholesome genki girls who were once a god who fought in a war in their past life? How about pastel girls who may seem sweet but are deep down bullies towards loved ones? Are you at a point in your life where you find yourself wondering: where on earth can I find someone who’s ray of sunshine can brighten up my day. Will do I have good news for you buddy! Introducing your very own friend: Zelda from hit series Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword. This Zelda is more extreme than the others due to the fact that she’s not a princess, that’s right no princess titles clogging up that beautiful name. Just a knight who somehow finds out she’s actually a goddess reborn as human, no biggie! 

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?)

SHOUJO PROTAG WHO’S TOO FREAKING CUTE!! So.... if that’s not your cup of tea ;v; but nah I can see people not liking Zelda because not everyone like the nice girl who’s your childhood friend characrter, I totally get it but if you dig a little deeper you see that there’s more to it than that.

What inspired you to rp your muse?  

My close friend was FINALLY getting into the LOZ series back when BOTW was first coming out, her playthrough of SS made me remember how much I loved each characters and honestly Zelda’s design in that game was always my fav right next to Tetra and ALTTP/ALBW! At the time I mostly played more introverted muses or straight up villains and I wanted to try my hand at playing more wholesome characters like Sky Zel and ALTTP Zel ;v; now look at me, the CEO of wholesome cute girls ;v; 

What keeps your inspiration going?  

Motivation and time at this point, I’m not the young starry-eyed rper who used to have playlists and replay things to keep up with canon. I just pray to god I’m doing ok, let jesus take the wheel and just sorta do my own thing. I think having fun threads or a friendship with partners or just good vibes from them def helps a whole lot. 

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice?  YES / NO.

Do you frequently write headcanons?  YES / NO. SORTA KINDA NOT AS MUCH AS I DO WITH ALTTP ZEL BECAUSE I’M ALWAYS NERVOUS THAT I MIGHT LIKE BREAK THE CANON OR ZEL’S CHARACTER!! 

Do you sometimes write drabbles?  YES / NO.  

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day?  YES / NO.

Are you confident in your portrayal?   YES / NO.

Are you confident in your writing?  YES / NO / Most of the time!

Are you a sensitive person?  YES / NO. I mean, that’s a trick question because I can be sensitive in picking up tones and reading between the lines but like if you mean if someone says something mean than no not anymore at least, I’m too old to care about what people say about me or think about me. 

Do you accept criticism well about your portrayal?  

YE! I do! I mean we’re all improving and junk so I see no issues with criticisms uvub I always worry about whether or not you can hear different voices within the characters I rp as among writing issues I have that comes with learning disability and ADD, I try my hardest but I know at the end of the day there will always be grammar mistakes and even spelling! 

Do you like questions, which help you explore your character?

YES YES YES!! OMG YES!! I TAKE WHATEVER QUESTIONS YOU MAY HAVE AND JUST... WORD VOMIT BACK SEVEN PAGE ESSAY SOMETIMES ;V; 

If someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why?

Eh, well yeah it’d be nice honestly to hear feedbacks and thoughts. Just saying ‘I don’t like this or I don’t agree with this’ doesn’t really help anyone who wants to improve but I’m not gonna like press them for it either because again I’m at the stage in my life where I’m just like ‘it is what it is’. 

If someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it?

Shrug emoji, and then move on! Again it’d be nice if they can tell me though but I won’t press them for it if they don’t feel like it. We’re allowed to have our opinions after all yo!

If someone really hates your character, how do you take it?

It is illegal to hate sky zel or any Zel really... NAH JK I DON’T REALLY CARE I’ve liked characters who aren’t popular among the fandom, I’m more or less used to seeing character bashing for faves so like it doesn’t really affect me at all I’m just like “lol” and move on. 

Are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors?

YES! Though keep in mind, despite me using Grey instead of Gray, I use US English ;v; so keep that in mind when spotting out certain words other parts of the world may spell differently because us US Americans just..... gotta be extra like that. 

Do you think you are easy going as a mun?  

I TRY!!! IDK IF I COME ACROSS AS THAT but I’m very much someone who goes with the flow anyway, I’ve been told that much IRL and I’m just hweoh not really someone who’s a stick in the mud or has a stick up their ass, you know? I’m pretty laid back and not much bothers me, I can get petty if I have to come across rude people that’s the one thing that kills it for me but aside from that, I just wanna try to get along with people. We don’t have to be friends if you’re not feeling the vibes but friendly terms is good enough for me!

That’s about it, congrats for filling out!

[softbookboi]

Lovesick Schoolgirl (a snowbaz fanfic) Chapter 3 (last one)

Summary: Baz is sitting in class and starts doodling all kinds of Snowbaz stuff in his notebook. When he’s snapped out of his musings and realises he’s doing it, he starts blushing. And then - curse his luck - the teacher calls on him to answer a question. He just starts blubbering and stammering and since Simon is there, its even worse. After class, he’s visited by Simon before he can sneak off to their room to take a nap and Simon insists of Baz telling what he was writing in his notebook because he thinks that Baz is plotting something. Baz refuses but Simon grabs it and before he’s able to open it, Baz lights it up on fire and then watches it burn to ashes. After Baz leaves, Simon becomes hell-bent on figuring out what was in that notebook.

Simon

I don't see Baz for the rest of the weekend.

If I had any doubts in the confirmation of my feelings for him, they're all gone now.

After not seeing him for 2 days and knowing that it's because of me, I know for sure that I really, really like Baz. (Not so much so that I think I love him, but I really like him.) (I considered the thought of loving him and it seems quite likely to me, but I don't think that I'm able to accept something so big in such a small matter of time.)

When I was looking over what he wr-drew. . . in my notebook, I guess I didn't hear the door opening or Baz standing there staring at me. And then, I just heard the door slam shut while I was looking over some words for my tombstone with Baz. I was quite far away from the door, but the sound was so loud that it felt like it had been slammed in my face.

And the loudness just led to me inferring that Baz was livid.

And I honestly don't blame him for that.

If I had been in his place, I would be mad too. Fucking indignant is what I would be.

But he didn't know the real reason I did that.

I looked at it from his point of view soon after the door shut and I admit that what I was doing was fucking hysterical. Honestly, who in Merlin's name does that kind of thing? I was acting like a freaking creep, just like in 5th Year.

But that was from his perspective. Not mine.

I'm not sure that what I did can still be forgiven, but I think that it can.

I mean, I had feelings for Agatha but they were never this strong. And I never had these moments with her where I just felt like she was so beautiful (actually, there were some, but they were all platonic) and I wanted to just snog the bloody hell out of her and also have her remain in my life as the most cherished person in my life.

I never wanted to brush away that one strand of hair that kept falling on her face. I never wanted to lose myself and swim in her eyes. (I never even thought her eyes were that pretty. At least, not as much as Baz's.) I never wanted to lie in her arms or have her lie in mine. I never wanted to protect her.

I never felt as hurt as I am right now when we were on breaks or when she was mad at me.

I was just. . . okay with it.

But right now, with Baz, this is different. I want to do all those things. And perilously.

These feelings are strong. And I'm not sure how to cope with them.

But I still feel like the world's smallest person. For doing that to Baz.

I don't know how long he felt this way, how long he wanted me (Dear Lord, that sounds so weird), and I can imagine that he desperately wanted to hide these feelings and I can't really blame him for being this mad at me.

I've done a terrible thing. Even I know it.

And why didn't I know about Baz? Am I that thick? How could I have not figured that out?

Penny was right. She said Baz might reciprocate my feelings and he does.

I'm not really sure how I feel about it, though. I mean, I love it. It's something that I could've imagined wanting for a despicably long time, but never having it.

But that's still something else.

To know that Baz has feelings for me is great, but it won't do me any good. (It might even make things worse between us.)

But to know that Baz reciprocates my feelings and gives me consent to be his boyfriend, to show him how much I like him and how much I want to be his and him mine, is the real thing.

Baz having feelings is nothing that amazing. But Baz willing to work on this weird relationship we currently have and changing it to one that boyfriends have, that's what's really marvellous.

That's what's really matters.

And that's what I have to get him to agree to.

I've spent the whole weekend trying to find him, but he's just. . .vanished. I've looked through the Catacombs, the Weeping Tower, our room, the dining hall (he isn't there for meals), the football pitch, the Wavering Woods, and literally everywhere else. He's nowhere.

I told Penny about what happened and what I saw, and she wasn't really that surprised. Sure, she was because hello, Baz, the super hot, nonchalant football player, making these cute and dorky doodles about someone else? Wow. But then, she did think that it was kind of expected. She confirmed that I was just oblivious, that Baz's feelings for me and mine for him were quite obvious.

I just think she's way too smart for a mage.

We've been looking for Baz together - we even cornered his friends (or rather, minions), Dev and Niall, but they just told us to bugger off - but we haven't found him. I'm getting really worried. I need to explain to Baz why I was doing what I was doing before he gets any wrong assumptions. (Though he probably already has them by now.)

I really just need to explain myself to Baz.

I have an actual chance at being with the person I've liked since most likely 4th or 5th Year. I'm not letting myself screw this up.

I spent the whole weekend discovering every nook and cranny of Watford (well, not every one, but quite a lot) but I hadn't found him.

I spent my Sunday restlessly. I kept squirming in the bedsheets because it was too hot and then I remembered that Baz wasn't here to complain about the window so I opened it but later on, it got too cold and I had to close it again. It went on and on like this all night. I barely got a wink of sleep, and even that was filled with Baz-related thoughts and his whereabouts.

Today, Monday morning at breakfast, I don't see him in the dining hall. I ponder over where he was staying when he wasn't even coming back to the room to sleep. Maybe he's with Dev or Niall. But they have roommates too, Baz can't just barge in on them like they're a motel.

Is he not going to come to class today? Baz has never missed or ditched a class before. Education is just way too important for him for him to pull something like that. If Baz doesn't show up for classes (which is proving to be more and more possible by the passing minute), then there's definitely something wrong. And by that, I mean that he seriously loathes me.

And if he seriously loathes me, then he certainly won't hear out my confession.

I start fidgeting, thinking about what it would be like if I somehow managed to mess this up. If I ruined my chance with Baz. I would definitely hate myself.

And I've probably made Baz hurt a lot too.

He probably thinks that I'm gonna out him to everyone else or make fun of him for having feelings since it's his perspective of me reacting to anything that's embarrassing for him.

My eyes are starting to sting thinking about it.

Baz is probably hating his life just like I am hating mine right now because he thinks that I don't like him. Even if Baz has a calm demeanour, that doesn't mean that he wouldn't get hurt by thinking his (Oh my God, it feels so good to say it) crush has rejected him. If I were in Baz's situation, I definitely would feel hurt.

And how long has he had feelings for me? Is it for as long as I have? If it is, then I simply am the smallest person in the world. (Even if he didn't, though, I would still be the smallest person in the world for doing that to him.)

Penny sees my unshed tears and takes my hand in hers, squeezing tightly. "We'll find him, Simon. Don't worry." she says.  

"Yeah, but would he even talk to me? He probably will hex me straight into tomorrow for invading his privacy. And it was one of the most private kind of privacies. How is he ever going to look at me, let alone listen to me?"

"Hey, just calm down. He might show up for class, you said yourself that he's never missed a class. He probably won't this time too. You just have to catch him at a good time when there are no distractions and just tell him that you have something really important to say," he shakes her head as I start to open my mouth to argue. "I know you think he won't talk to you, but anyone would listen to their crush. And he seems to really like you, depending on the sketches you mentioned. He'll listen, okay? Just stay calm."

I nod then, an finish my breakfast. I spend the whole breakfast like that, just sulking and Penny trying to cheer me up and it not working.

When the bell finally rings, I jump out of my seat to go to my first class. Baz and I have the first class together, and this will tell me whether he's coming back for Monday.

I almost leave Penny behind, but she runs too and catches up to my fast pace. I stand in front of the door of the room, taking in the fact that Baz could be sitting in there right now and that I could talk to him.

What is it doesn't go well? What if I make a fool out of myself? What if he rejects me for some reason? I keep thinking about the worst ways this could go, and those are the top 3. Penny finally nudges me again and I stumble into the room and look around, scanning the appearance of everyone in the crowd.

And there he is.

Baz.

Baz

I wasn't planning on coming to class on Monday, but then I realised that I can't just miss classes to avoid Snow. Education is too serious for me to do something like that and it was just ridiculous. How much longer was I going to hide from Snow? He was going to find me anyway.

I slept in this alcove in the Catacombs that wasn't really visible to someone who wasn't in it the past few nights. I had Dev and Niall bring me some food so I don't starve, and I worked off of those rats.

They were both certainly interested as to why I was sleeping there, but I told them that it was just important. That I had to do it for some kind of project for extra-credit. They told me about how Snow and Bunce cornered them multiple times and demanded that they tell them where I was. They said that Snow said he wanted to talk to me.

I'm not talking to him. I have nothing to say to him. Following me around in 5th Year was bad, but this is a whole other fucking kind of violating someone's privacy. I seriously can't believe he did something like that. I thought he was a heroic person, not a git who goes through other people's private matters.

He's probably asking for me so that he can reject me in person. And he probably wants to 'let me down easy'. He probably pities me so fucking much and that would be perfect way for him to do things: tell your arch-nemesis that you're supposed to kill, whom has deep feelings for you, that you're rejecting them, but do it nicely. Don't seem smug about it and make fun of them. Be the bigger person.

Honestly, that would be more humiliating than him just flat-out rejecting me, without caring about being too harsh or realistic.

I don't want that. I don't want his pity.

(I still want him, though. And that's what I hate the most about this situation. He did an abysmal thing. Even if it was his enemy, he violated someone's privacy. He went out of his goddamn way go make sure he knew what I was writing in that notebook in class. I hate that he did that. It was despicable. But I still love him. I'm still in love with him, nothing changed that. And it hurts. So much. I wish I could just wake up someday and not feel anything for Snow. Not even hatred. I would've actually enjoyed life. It would be better.)

He came looking for me several times in the Catacombs, but I always hid far back in my tiny little alcove and cast an invisible spell on myself. (We haven't learned those spells yet, so Snow wouldn't think about them.)

I didn't want to go to classes on Monday, but I knew I had to.

I couldn't just miss out on classes. That was just plain stupidity.

So I gathered up my courage and when it was breakfast, I sneaked into the room and got ready for classes.

It took precisely 25 minutes to get ready, since I only washed my hair in the shower.

I sneaked back downstairs, careful to avoid the pathways connected to the dining hall or anywhere Snow might be. (He would only be at breakfast at this time, though. He would never miss an opportunity to eat food.)

I was the first person to be in the my first class of the day, which just happened to include Snow and Bunce. I was terribly regretting my choice right about then to come to classes. Staying in that dark, decaying alcove would've been better.

As I waited, I took slow and deep breaths to try to calm myself down. I was gonna see Snow. I was gonna see his reaction. It was gonna be of pity. Such pity.

My heart was pounding. The great Basilton Pitch, blubbering and blushing before and feelings butterflies in his tummy due to some stupid beautiful boy whose rejection he could not take. Merlin and Morgana, what have I become?

I braced myself as I heard the bell ring, indicating that breakfast was over. I tried to calm myself down by breathing deep again as students start to pile in the classroom. I was half expecting them to laugh or snicker at me, but they didn't. There was a tiny part of me that really believed that Snow had told everyone and now I was ruined. But, turns out he didn't.

I kept my eyes on the door, searching for Snow (and Bunce, but just a little bit for her).

And finally, he came.

And now, I am here. Sitting on my desk, looking straight at Snow (and Bunce behind him) and feeling myself blush awkwardly. I abruptly look away from them, turning my attention to the window, suddenly very interested in the football pitch and the light breeze and cool weather outside. I refuse to look at Snow, even when he plops down right onto the seat beside me. I don't even acknowledge him, don't even pay attention to his awkward positioning of the chair to get comfortable, and the weird looks people are giving us since we switched seats for the first time this year in Watford.

I wait impatiently for the teacher to arrive and start the lesson, and when he does, I almost sigh in relief.

I spend the rest of the lecture ignoring Snow and focusing mainly on whatever the teacher's saying. And this time, when the teacher asks me a question, I actually respond with the correct answer in my casual demeanour.

Snow tries repeatedly to get my attention. To get anything from me. For instance, tapping his pen on his desk (which is something that he knows annoys me), dropping his notebook on the floor (which also annoys me) and sighing too loudly (and another thing that annoys me).

Just as the bell rings, I grab my bag and spring from my seat and am out the door before he even calls out to me, just stands there, watching me run away from him cowardly. I want to face him, but I don't have the guts. It already aches to know that I'm outed, I don't want Snow's pity rejection to make me feel even worse.

• • • • •

I skip lunch and just head down to the Catacombs to take a break from all the escaping Snow.

I've been dodging him and his questions and his insinuations that he wants to talk to me all day. I'm not sure if I can keep up with this forever, or at least until he forgets about it. (And something tells me that he won't ever forget about this.) I rest a little in the Catacombs, catching my breath.

Snow kept on sitting beside in all the classes we had together and people kept giving us weird looks. Even a few teachers raised a brow at us before continuing with their lecture. It was so troubling having to jump out of my seat and run across the room whenever the bell was sounded and I'm pretty sure I looked really weird and creepy to other people while doing that.

After the lunch-is-over bell sounded, I stand up and and run (once again) to my next class, which is with just Snow, not Bunce.

(Bunce isn't really helping him out with the cornering me thing, but I'm 100% sure that he told her. He can't keep anything from her. Maybe she decided to take mercy on me and thought it was fair that I only and to deal with one person. For now.)

This particular class is different than the others. It is Magic Words and me and Snow are already assigned seats together, so he doesn't need to switch seats with someone. And throughout the first half of the lecture, he doesn't fidget. He doesn't let out innuendos that he wants to talk to me. He doesn't do all those things that annoy me. At first, I'm suspicious. I think that he's going to pull something because Simon Snow does not give up that easily. (Or maybe he does when it comes to blood-sucking vampire roommates who have feelings for him.) I can't relax and properly comprehend the words Miss Possibelf is saying. And I'm tensed.

But as the period carries on, I start to relax. It's obviously good that Snow isn't doing those things. And I calm down.

Halfway along the period, he drops something, probably a pen. As he leans down to pick it up, I feel a slight tug on my bag whose straps I'm clutching in my hands. I ignore it.

But then it happens once again.

I ignore it then too.

When it happens for the third time, I tug a little on the straps. Big mistake.

He tugs more. And I tug back. Pretty soon, it's like we're playing Tug Of War.

We're both grabbing the bag and pulling on it desperately. And we're both above the desks now, so we're visible to everyone else.

Obviously, Miss Possibelf catches us.

"Mr. Snow and Mr. Pitch. Detention. I would really appreciate it if you don't have fist-fights in my class, or rather, any other class. Come back in this classroom after all classes for today are done."

I grit my teeth and snatch my bag from him, giving him a glare without meeting his eyes. The bastard is grinning widely. This was most certainly his plan.

I'm going to have to spend detention with him. A whole hour. In the same classroom. Probably alone. (Sometimes the teachers just leave students there with charms cast on the door while they go do whatever they want.)

I don't relax after that. I stay alert for the rest of the lecture though it seems pointless since he already got what he wanted.

I'm not gonna make conversation with him in detention. I won't talk to him. I'll just ignore him like I am doing now.

Once again, as the bell rings, I dash away. But this time, he doesn't call after me.

Simon  

I succeed in getting us both detention and I lay off him after that. I'll just talk to him in detention.

He seemed visibly pissed that I got us both detention, now that I think about it. And he knew that I was going to try talk to him so he ignored me even more and stayed tense for the rest of the lecture.

I feel bad about it but I needed something to ensure that I'll have a chance to be alone with him so I can try to talk to him.

I don't try to call after him or follow him after this lecture. I just let him go. I'll have my time with him in detention. (Unless he somehow manages to escape detention. I honestly won't be surprised if he does that.)

The rest of the lectures pass easily.

Bas tenses up when I sit beside him. (I don't really have to sit beside him now that I have a chance to talk to him, but I want to.) He stays tense the whole lecture. I don't fiddle like I normally do (well, just a bit). We remain civilised and don't fight or talk at all.

At last, the day ends and detention comes near.

After the last bell rings, Baz jolts up from his seat like he did the whole day (Honestly, isn't he getting tired of running around?), and dashes out of the room to the Magic Words classroom.

I trail behind him, trudging and trying to think of what I would say. Why didn't I think of that before? I hate that I do some things as an impulse which shouldn't be impulses.

I'll have to tell him how I feel. But when do I say that? How do I start the conversation? How do I reveal what I really think about him? Should I just blurt out that I like him? That seems wrong. If I need some time to adjust to my feelings for Baz, then he deserves to be informed of said feelings easily. He probably spent a lot of time thinking we couldn't be together, this would certainly shock him a lot. He doesn't deserve for me to just blurt it out.

I take a shaky breath as I enter the room and see Baz sitting in the far right corner in the back, and Miss Possibelf sitting on her desk, arranging some papers.

I knock on the door.

"Ahh, yes, Mr. Snow. You've arrived. Please sit down. You'll be here for about an hour. Please feel free to do anything while sitting in your seat and not causing any trouble that will land you in more detention with Mr. Pitch."

I nod and take a seat in the back, near to Baz but mot quite sitting next to him. I'm two seats away from him on his right. He's reading a book, some. . . gay romance? Yeah, that seems right. The title says Carry On by Rainbow Rowell.

I've heard of that book. It's about two boys who are wizards and secretly have feelings for each other, but they can't ever be together. Because of politicks.

If I didn't know any better, I'd say that those 2 boys were like me and Baz.

It looks like a good book, although I can't really believe that Baz reads romance. I shouldn't really be surprised, though. A lot of those doodles and sketches and pieces of writings were quite cliche and also cute.

Also, Rainbow? That's a weird name. Sigh, Normals.

I look up over to Baz and he's got his right pinkie in between his teeth. That means it's a good book. (Whenever Baz likes a book, he chews on his pinkie. He doesn't do it outside of our room though.)

He looks cute like this. His eyes are wide with anticipation and he's blinking really fast (although, I don't know why he's doing that). He's clutching the book really close to his face, as if it'll run away from him if he doesn't hold it tight enough. His eyebrows are drawn together, furrowed. (That means it's at a good part.) (Merlin, why had I not noticed my feelings for Baz?)

He so concentrated that he almost doesn't notice me staring.

He shifts a bit and catches my lovesick staring (but I don't think he knows that it's lovesick), meets my eyes and immediately drops his gaze while a pretty shade of pink starts dusting his pale cheeks.

I smile a little and turn back, thinking about how I could get to talk to him.

I figured that Miss Possibelf would be leaving us alone. A lot of the teachers do that, and quite frequently. But Miss Possibelf is just sitting on her desk and grading papers.

Fuck.

I guess I have to wait. I can't just start talking to Baz while she is here. We need privacy.

• • • • •

I'm freaking out right about now. We only have roughly 10 minutes left and I still haven't talked to Baz. He has a triumphant look on his face now, as if he figured out my plan to try and talk to him and now he knows that we're running out detention time and I haven't been able to get a moment of privacy so I can't talk.

I'm silently praying Miss Possibelf leaves us. Goes anywhere. Just anywhere. Even the bathroom, that'll have to do. But she isn't. And I'm panicking. I'm pretty sure my magic is leaking and that Baz and Miss Possibelf can smell it. (I was controlling it so well earlier, better than I ever had. I hope that I'll be able to do that again.)

Finally, as if Merlin has finally listened to my desperate pleas, she leaves 5 minutes before the time ends.

"Alright boys, I'm going to hand these papers over to Mr. Tribbiani, and I suspect that your detention will be over before I return. So please, remain seated and when the time is over, leave the classroom because I probably will return late. Maybe." she says as she grabs the stack of papers and her handbag and leaves.

As soon as she shuts the door, my mind goes haywire. What do I do now? I have to talk to Baz. But how? How do I start the conversation again?

I decide to just stop thinking and actually start talking.

I look over at him.

"Uhh, Baz?"

He pretends to be too engrossed in his book to notice me.

"Baz." I say, a little louder.

To my surprise, he answers.

"What, Snow?" His eyes never leave the book and he says this in a disinterested tone, but I can make out the hint of nervousness in it.

"I. . . I think we need to talk."

"About what?" Once again, eyes never stray; bored tone with a hint of nervousness.

"You know what, you git." Suddenly, I'm getting a deja vu. This conversation is all too familiar.

"I really don't, Snow."

"About-about the notebook."

He visibly tenses, shoulders stiffening, jaw clenching. It's hot.

"What is there to talk about? You already know what you so desperately wanted to know. What you searched up special spells for and actually controlled your fucking magic to find out." He spits out. He radiates bitterness off of him, and it's obvious he's still pissed at me. I gulp.

"Baz, I know I did a terrible thing. I shouldn't have-"

"'Shouldn't have'. Yes, that's correct. Why didn't you tell yourself that before you went nosing in my business?" He cuts in.

A part of me wants for him to just let me explain. Another part is really surprised that he's still talking to me.

"I was acting on impulse decisions and that was wrong of me. I was really desperate to find out what you written because-" I start once again, speaking fast, but he cuts me off again.

"Why, Snow? Because you thought I was plotting? Is that it? Couldn't you ever open your mind just this much to realise that maybe I had a life too. That I wasn't always plotting about your death?" He snaps, finally closing shut his book and looking at me with anger in his eyes. His last sentence makes me flinch, and he backs off a bit at that. I guess he feels bad.

"I-I. . . no." I answer quietly. "But, Baz, I have a reason why I was acting so impulsively. I was too scared-"

Once again, I get cut off. But this time, it's the little alarm clock that's on Miss Possibelf's desk, indicating that detention is over.

Baz starts to get up. No.

He grabs his bag and his book and starts stomping away.

And I act on an impulse decision.

"I like you too!" I shout.

He stills and doesn't look back at me but also doesn't continue walking.

"Baz, I. . . I was saying that I was so concentrated on  finding out what you were writing in that notebook because before, in the classroom, when Miss Possibelf called on you to answer the question and while you were getting flustered, you looked at me. And not like glares. Like actually looking at me. And I. . . liked it. I liked it when you looked at me like that. It made you look all soft and human. And I felt something for you. Something I recognised from when I felt it when I was crushing on Agatha. It-I liked you. Like that. I realised that in the classroom. And I was freaked out about it because I never noticed these feelings and they were so strong. It was so sudden. And I just realised that you could easily use this to your advantage. You could easily destroy me. So I had to know that - this is gonna sound ridiculous but didn't seem like that at the moment - you weren't making a plan to accidentally make me have feelings for you and then break my heart or something."

Baz laughs a little at that. Just a small chuckle, but I feel a whole lot lighter and I start to move closer to him while talking. He still hasn't turned around.

It never occurred to me that I was violating your privacy and crossing the line. I was just too scared. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. When I first saw what was in there, I was shocked. But then, I was happy. I was happy because we both feel the same way and can try to make it work. The politicks don't matter. And I was so angry at myself for not realising that this would obviously upset you or anyone else snd how wrong it was. I'm so, so sorry, Baz. Just don't be mad at me forever because of this."

I put my hand on his shoulder and turn him around. He's looking at the ground.

"Baz, look at me."

I put my finger under his chin and pull it up. He doesn't protest, just silently whispers, "Is this a prank, Snow? Is this your cruel idea of a joke?"

"No, Baz. It isn't. I would never do something like that."

My voice breaks a little because I don't want Baz to think that I would lie about something this serious to him, and his eyes widen at that.

"Simon," he sighs, and this time, my eyes widen. "I don't—I don't know what to say. I'm not sure I believe you." he says in a tiny voice.

He doesn't believe me? I would never lie about something like this. I'm not a terrible person. But. . . I can see why Baz would think I was joking.

Of course, he would think that I was joking. He's had feelings for someone for (I'm guessing) a long time. Someone who everyone indirectly says that he can't have. Someone who he's been mean to for years and then suddenly when that person finds out, he corners Baz and tells him that he likes him too.

Goodness gracious, why didn't I think of that?

I rack my brain for ways to tell him that I mean this. That I'm not playing some sick prank on him for fun.

And I find one.

"Baz?" I croak out.

He looks at me and my breath hitches.

The coral sunlight of the dipping Sun in the sky is scattered on his face. It makes his pale face glow beautifully. His eyebrows are furrowed once again, but this time in bemusement. His eyes are twinkling and I can see my reflection in them, crystal clear. His eyelashes are perfectly long, curved at the end, and I see a bit of eyeliner. He pulls it off, the handsome prick. His nose is long and slender and perfect too. And his lips. His lips look plump and soft and they look like they're just waiting for me.

So I do it.

I start to lean in a bit and Baz realises what I'm doing, and he sucks in a breath. He stays where he is.

I lean more slowly, giving him time to pull away if he wants to. But he doesn't. And I'm so glad.

As I close the final distance between us, he closes his eyes softly, before I do, and it's another thing that I love about him.

He does it slowly and gently, without applying pressure on his eyes. His eyes lashes flutter as he does it and I can see a little bit of the whites of his eyes as he closes them. Most people (Agatha) just shut them straight and clench. Baz doesn't do that.

It's such a small feature about him. And I love it. It's perfect.

My lips are moving against his tenderly. There's no rush. Nothing that makes us both speed up. Just deep admiration for each other.

The kiss is fuelled by our many different emotions finally erupting out in the open. I can feel Baz's affection for me in the way he lightly swipes his tongue on my bottom lip, asking for entrance. I grant him it. And I am sure he can feel my yearning for him through the way I'm letting my left hand go through his curtain of black hair and my right hand on his back, pressing him against me. I want him to know how much I like him, to know that I actually feel too strongly for him for this to be anything else other than love but am too scared to say it out loud, because this is all so new.

And when we break apart years later; when I rest my forehead against his forehead and we both breathe heavily, trying to catch our breath; when he lets out a soft laugh and smiles a tiny smile just barely conspicuous on his face, I know he knows.

I want to kiss him again. And I try to, but he doesn't let me.

"Wait, Simon," he starts, "I really, really want this. So badly. No less than how much you want it. But we can't.

I frown and drop my hand from his back.

"What?"

"We can't. Simon, you're. . . you have important things to do, like save the world. And no one would ever approve of this."

"And it's not just that," he adds when he sees that I'm about to protest. "Simon, I'm a monster. A. . . vampire. You don't wanna be with someone like me. It's too dangerous for you. And—and we're different. We hardly have the same opinion on things. We're fight all the time. Who's to say that this will actually work out?" he says, weakly.

"Baz, you're not a monster—"

"Yes, I am, Snow."

"Let me finish. You're not a monster. You've lived with me and slept in the same room as me for 7 years, Baz, and you never once tried to drain me. And it must've been so hard for you. But you never did it. You always kept yourself back. You're so brave, Baz.

He scoffs. "Me, brave? I think you're mistaken, Snow."

"'Simon'," I say, correcting him. "And yes, Baz, you are. You fight off your needs everyday and you still act like a git and a perfect human to everyone. And you've done this for years. And Baz, even if we're different from each other. We still need to try. There's still a chance that it could work out if we just try."

"Why, Simon? Why should we try?"

"Because. . . ," and I'm stumped.

It's the same question I asked myself the night I performed the spell, but I couldn't think of anything. Anything that might give a logical reason as to why we should try.

I'm racking my brain for one now, because I want to tell Baz that we should try. But why? He's right. Why should we try?

I've spent my whole life trying to figure out the meaning of the word 'love'. I never had any real family to love, to get loved. Even when I came to Watford and made Penny as a best friend, I still didn't know the real meaning of love. And it scares me. It scares me that I don't know it and that I want to know it. And it also scares me that someday, someone might break me so much that I will forget the meaning of love again. I've lost so many people in my life, people that have never even been in my life, so it scares me so much. It scared me when I was with Agatha, terrified me.

But even if this happens, I want to learn the meaning of love. With Baz.

Because. . . I deserve it.

"Because we deserve it, Baz," he looks taken aback by my sudden epiphany. "We both deserve it, Baz. I've spent my whole life in boys' homes and I never understood what loving someone felt like. Or having someone love you just as much as you love them. And I always felt scared of love, that I don't know what it means and if I do, then what if I break and forget it again. Who will remind me what it means? But now, I want to learn the meaning of love with you, Baz. I had such a shitty childhood and now I'm burdened with saving the world, it's like the universe has finally given me an opportunity. An opportunity to be happy. To actually live life wanting to. Not feeling obligated to. And I want to take it. And I know you feel the same way, Baz. This is an opportunity for you too. This is a chance for you to be truly happy and not fake it." I say with desperation in my voice.

Baz shakes his head at me.

"How, Simon? You don't even know me well enough to—" he gulps and I watch his Adam's apple bob up and down "—fall in love with me."

"Then let me know you," I say, looking into his pools of grey. "Let me know you well enough to fall in love with you."

His face neither hardens nor softens, and after a moment, he smashes his face into mine, kissing (rather snogging, actually) me with that desperation that was lacking in our first kiss.

He pushes and I push back. He nibbles at my bottom lip and I sigh into his mouth. It's all a huge mess of tongue, desperation and rawness. It feels like standing there naked, all our deepest desires and secrets and scars exposed, letting ourselves be defenceless and vulnerable to each other, willingly.

Finally, he breaks apart and says, "Okay."

Baz

We stay there snogging for what feels like hours and only seconds and the same time.

I'm sitting on a desk and Sn-Simon's slotted between my legs. My arms are around his neck and his are around my waist, gripping me possessively. We barely break apart an inch to catch our breaths before continuing.

I guess we're boyfriends now. Wow.

I don't really know what to say.

I don't really want to say anything.

I just want to cherish this. What we have right now.

Simon was right. We do have a chance now. To live happily.

I have chance to be with the boy I've been in love with since 1st Year. Wow.

I'm willing to try. Try to make ourselves compatible to each other.

We are quite different and it's hard to maintain a relationship that way. A lot of people have broken up this way. Majority of them. I stand by this point.

But what's different is that I'm willing to try and keep trying. For him. Simon Snow. My Simon Snow.

And he is too. I can tell.

I want to be with him. It will be hard. It won't be all sunshines and rainbows. There will be dark times, with the politicks and our personal relationship. But we'll fight against it. In those other relationships, it all went down to whether the couple loved each other enough to keep fighting against the world, and a lot of them gave up. It will be the same choice in this relationship. We both have the choice. To leave or stay and keep fighting together.

I choose fighting together.

And I have a feeling that Simon does as well.

chap 1, chap 2

[branlovestowrite]

The Man of Misthaven: Part 2 of 4

Thank you all so much for the incredible reception you gave Part 1 of this story! I am blown away by the response. I hope you continue to enjoy the story. This next installment is a long one, but lots of CS interaction, so I don’t think you’ll mind too much. ^_~ 

Continuous thanks to @gingerchangeling for being my beta reader, @hollyethecurious for this amazing image set, and @kmomof4 for running @cssns.

The Man of Misthaven

Summary: Storybrooke Maine is preparing for their annual fourth of July parade when they stumble upon a 300 year old body buried in Misthaven Bog, just beyond the town line. This is the first bog body discovered in the Northern US, and could put the town on the map… if only it hadn’t gone missing. Deputy Emma Swan should be focusing on the search, but she’s been a little distracted by the dark haired, blue-eyed man with amnesia she rescued the day before. Just who is this man she feels such a strong attraction to, and does he have any connection to the missing body?

Rating: T

Words: ~7,700 (this is a long installment!)

Need to catch up? Part 1 can be found here. Also on AO3 and fanfiction.net.

Part 2 Storybrooke, Saturday June 30, 2018

For the third time in the last 24 hours, Emma parked in front of the hospital. This time, at least, she wasn’t going to the morgue. She made sure she had her badge before exiting the car and walked around to help John Doe out. Thankfully, the hospital was not very busy, and they were led to a private examination room. After a moment, a nurse walked in with a hospital gown and a robe.

“I’ll just put these here,” she said as she settled them at the foot of the bed.

John Doe sat on the bed and looked at the items, unsure of what to do. He glanced toward Emma.

“Don’t you want to get dressed?” she asked.

“Oh… aye. I’ll just…” He fingered the garments for a moment as he continued to stare at her. The tips of his ears began to turn red.

“Oh! Right,” Emma said. “I’ll just step out.”

He stood at the same time she did, bringing their bodies closer than she liked in such a small space. “Will you be back?” he asked, as his right arm snaked out from under the blanket to rub at the scruff covering his jaw.

“If you’d like me to.” She found his nervousness charming, and she gave him a genuine smile. “I can come back and stay with you until the doctor gets you settled.”

“I would like that, thank you.” He returned her smile with a brilliant grin of his own.

She got caught up in his eyes for a moment, drowning in their deep blue depths, before she heard Dr. Whale tap on the door. Clearing her throat, she stepped aside. “Doctor,” she said, her tone a bit too high for her liking.

“Deputy Swan,” he returned, his gaze teetering on the edge of lecherous. Dr. Whale was a notorious flirt, but was also one of the best doctors in the state. He’d repeatedly turned down opportunities to move to bigger hospitals in bigger towns, saying he preferred the pace of small town life. He’d never tried to make a move on Emma, but she suspected that was mostly due to his brief, but disastrous, relationship with Mary Margaret. Emma knew that the notorious womanizer was actually a secretly sappy, over-the-top romantic. No doubt he was aware that she possessed this knowledge and thus had decided to keep his distance.

Doctor Whale shifted his gaze to John Doe. He held out his hand. “Dr. Victor Whale.” The other man took it tentatively, and Whale gave him a firm shake before releasing. “So. What seems to be the issue?”

“Well,” John Doe began, “I’m not quite sure myself. I don’t remember much before this lass found me.”

Whale raised his brow. “Where did you find him?” he asked Emma.

“Walking along the forest road, maybe three miles from here.”

“And you don’t remember anything before then?” the doctor asked, turning back to the man.

“I remember waking up, but I can’t recall where I was. I had trouble seeing. The room was dark and very cold. I remember feeling confined and simply wanting to breathe fresh air. It was still dark when I got outside, but I just started walking, thinking I could find something familiar.”

“Do you know if you walked in a straight path?”

He gave an uneasy smile. “I don’t think I did. I really felt quite out of sorts.” He shook his head and his smile broadened. “I’m not making any sense, am I?”

Whale gave him a reassuring look. “Disorientation is common with cases of amnesia.” He opened the chart and began writing. “I’m going to order a few tests, just to check you out for any internal trauma. We’ll want to keep you here for observation and perhaps have Dr. Hopper come chat with you and see if he can’t help jog your memory.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow you,” John Doe replied, his ears turning red again.

“Just know that we’ll take care you, sir. I’ll be back in a few hours to see how you are doing.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

Whale turned to Emma. “Deputy Swan, will you be here a while?”

“I was planning to stay until the patient was settled.”

“Please come find me before you leave. I’d like to get a few more details from you. But it’s not urgent.”

He stepped away from the room. Emma and John Doe stared at each other once more, his gaze more unsure than earlier. Emma reached out and placed a firm hand on his arm, squeezing his bicep through the blanket. “It’s gonna be okay. Whale is one of the best doctors in the state.”

He gave a dry chuckle. “I am glad to hear you recommend him so highly.”

She let her gaze drop to the clothes still on the bed. Looking up at him, she said “why don’t you get dressed? I will see if I can go find us some food. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

“Sustenance does sound good, thank you.”

She found herself wanting to laugh at his old fashioned language, but she bit her lip. “I’ll be back,” she said as she stepped out of the room and headed to the vending machines.

Emma spent most of her free Saturday at the hospital with John Doe. She shouldn't have stayed so long, but she couldn’t bear to leave him. He was so nervous, though he rarely spoke to that effect. When he was taken for a CT scan, he would only agree to go if Emma could come with him. She waited just outside the room while the scan was performed, and walked alongside the gurney, holding his hand, all the way back to his room.

After the tests were performed, the hospital gave him a proper meal. He stared in wonder at the tray, taking particular interest in the small bowl of jello cubes. He picked it up and shook it lightly, closely observing how the substance moved. “What do they call this?”

She smiled at his childlike wonder. “Jello. You’ve never seen jello before?”

“Can’t say that I have.” He smiled at her, then picked up a gelatinous cube and popped it in his mouth. He swallowed it down with an exaggerated motion. “It’s very sweet. Reminds me of jam, only without the fruit.”

“That’s basically what it is,” Emma replied with a laugh.

Despite his unfamiliarity with the contents, he ate everything on the tray and drank all the water in the small pitcher he’d been provided.

“Wow,” Emma said, “I’m impressed. Guess you were hungry.”

“I do feel like it’s been a very long time since I ate.”

When the room fell quiet, Emma turned on the TV. This sparked a new round of questioning. It seemed he had never encountered television in his life. “You must be from an Amish community, or something like that,” Emma mused.

He grinned at her. “I don’t know what that is, but sure.”

She giggled at his words. After he ate lunch, the day seemed to be taking its toll on him. His eyes drooped and he was struggling to hold his head up. Emma stood and looked at the clock, not believing it was almost four in the afternoon. “I think I should go. You look like you could use a nap.”

“Apologies, love. I do seem to be rather fatigued.”

“I’ve got to work tomorrow, but I’ll come by and check on you.” She paused, then stepped to the nightstand and picked up the pad of paper and pen left there. She quickly wrote her number and handed it to him. “That’s my cell number. Give me a call if you need anything. I’m here for you.”

He gave her a grateful look. “Thank you. You really have been my savior today.”

She returned his look with a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Irish Sea, July 19, 1751

Alice stood against the gunwhale and relished the feeling of the wind whipping at her face. She’d never been on a ship before, though Papa had taken her to the sea enough times, as well as sharing with her tales of his own time as a sailor. Her Papa had a hard life, spending the majority of his childhood as an indentured servant before buying back his freedom by enlisting in the Navy with his brother. After rising through the ranks in his early adulthood, his promising career was cut short after only 6 years, when Uncle Liam contracted and died from typhoid fever.

Papa, who had only just earned the rank of lieutenant, deserted from the service and ran into hiding, drowning his sorrow in rum. Liam was his only family, and Papa said without his brother he felt adrift. He liked to tell Alce that had it not been for her sudden appearance, he might be dead. He shamefully admits that he does not remember much of her mother, but when a baby was left on his doorstep, with a note explaining that she was his daughter, he didn’t hesitate. He sobered up and cared for the child.

As Alice grew, there was no mistaking her for anyone else’s child. She had his eyes, and his ears. She had his smile and his sense of humor. Alice loved her papa, and he spoiled her as much as he could on their meager earnings. He worked various odd jobs, eventually learning the trade of blacksmith. Alice remembered her younger years fondly, as a time when she and her Papa were poor, but happy.

There wasn’t a time in Alice’s life that she didn’t remember the feeling of magic flowing through her body. It was a pleasant hum that she assumed everyone else felt in the same measure. There were incidents from before, things that may have been written off as mere coincidence, but nothing as blatant as the incident that followed shortly after her seventh birthday.

Alice and Papa were making marmalade, a favorite treat of hers. Consumption of citrus was always important to Papa after his time at sea, and he never denied his girl her requests to make more. They’d even sold jars of it during especially lean times, though Papa had learned that the money they made selling it was far less than the amount saved if there was more marmalade on hand to satisfy his starfish’s appetite.

Alice was thinking about how they never had enough marmalade for her liking while she stirred the pot. Without warning, the sticky substance in the pot doubled in volume immediately. Alice screeched in surprise, calling Papa to her side. He could not believe his eyes as the contents of the pot continued to rise, threatening to boil over. Papa hurriedly removed the pot from the stove and set it aside.

“I think we have enough marmalade to last a long while now, eh Starfish?”

Alice recalled smiling as she looked at the pot, still rising even as Papa hurriedly spooned the contents into jars. “I guess we do,” she replied with a chuckle, and immediately the jam stopped its churning and settled.

They had enough marmalade to fill all their jars as well as another dozen they acquired from neighbors. The larder was beautifully full, and Alice ate marmalade sandwiches every day for months. When they got down to the last two jars, the supply continued. No matter how often they removed the next to last jar, there were always two jars waiting the following day. Alice was delighted at this, and did not notice her Papa’s unease.

She bragged to her few playmates in the village. Alice never had many close friends, always being seen as a bit strange by her cohort. However, when she bragged of having an endless supply of marmalade, the village began chattering about the blacksmith and his strange daughter. Word got around, and one night, about a year after the marmalade incident, there was an ominous knocking at the door to their cottage.

Papa opened the door to reveal a short, well-dressed man with dark grey hair that fell loosely to his shoulders. His blue frock coat adorned with gold buttons made him look out of place in their sleepy little village. He seemed like he should be attending a function at the grand estate 15 miles away.

“Can I help you… sir?” Papa added the title as an afterthought, not sure if he was addressing nobility.

“Are you the blacksmith?” the man asked as he peered curiously at Papa.

“I am. How can I help you?”

“Might I come in?” the man feigned an air of helplessness, but Alice immediately saw through this and eyed him warily. She tried in vain to telepathically communicate her sense of danger to Papa, but he let the man in anyway.

Once the door was shut behind him, the man took in their small, cozy cottage. He spun around slowly to take in his surroundings. When he turned back, his gaze landed on Alice.

“It’s a wonder it took me so long…” he said, trailing off. He stepped closer and took her chin in his hand. “You look just like your mother, child.”

He released his grip and Papa hastily joined them, placing his hands protectively on Alice’s shoulders. “I didn’t get your name, Mr…?”

“Gold. Roderick Gold.”

“And what is your interest in my daughter, Mr. Gold?”

“I knew the child’s mother. I have been trying to locate this girl for a very long time.”

Papa gently coaxed Alice out of her chair to stand, before pulling her firmly into his side. “I ask again, sir,” Papa began, “what is your interest in my daughter?”

“Why, only to change her life decidedly for the better.”

“What?” Alice asked, unbelieving. She knew manners dictated that she should not speak to this man unless addressed directly, but Alice had never been one for following rules.

“What do you know of your mother, child?”

Alice looked up at Papa with wide eyes. Papa took his cue to answer the man. “I have not seen her mother since she was a very small child. Alice’s mother could not care for her, so I have raised her on my own.”

“So you likely do not know, then, that Alice’s mother, Eloise, was my ward? Eloise disappeared nine years ago, likely after she came to be with child. I learned of the child some time ago, and although I continue to look for Eloise, I feel a responsibility for her child as well. I want to take you, dear, and give you the life you should have. Pretty gowns, the best education, and when you are older, balls and high society.”

Alice’s eyes lit up at the many pleasures being offered to her. “Do you have a library, sir?”

“Indeed I do. With more books than you could read in a lifetime, I’d wager.”

Alice looked up at Papa, not believing her luck. “Can we go with him Papa?”

Papa’s hand lifted to rub the back of his neck. “I imagine Mr. Gold does not have a place for me in this new life of yours, Starfish.”

“What? How can I go without you, Papa?” She turned to face Mr. Gold. “Papa must come with me, Mr. Gold, please!”

“I am sorry, child. Your father is right. I would permit him to visit you, of course, but I have no need for a blacksmith on my estate at present. Should that change, I would gladly make the position open to you, good man.”

“How generous,” Papa responded with a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. “This is a lot to take in. You will give us a few days to consider, won’t you?”

“Indeed,” Mr. Gold replied. “I will be visiting the estate just east of here for a few days. I will return to you in three days time and expect to have your response then. If you decide to do what is in the best interest of your child, you should have her things ready and she will leave with me at that time.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gold. We will see you then,” Papa said, opening the door and making it very clear that it was time for the man to leave. Papa watched out the window as the man alighted in his carriage and traveled in an easterly direction. Only once he was sure the man was gone did he turn to Alice.

“Pack your things, starfish.”

“What? Now? Mr. Gold said I had three more days. I am not ready to part with you, Papa!”

“We are not parting, love. We are leaving this village, tonight. That man cannot find us again.”

“Why Papa?”

“Because he is lying. I don’t remember much of your mother, dear one, but she was not a high born lady, no matter what he says. But I do recall she had certain… abilities. I thought nothing of it at the time, but I have seen these in you. I have no proof, but I believe that man only wants you for the power you possess. And he will have to kill me before he gets it.”

They traveled by foot, stopping in small, unassuming towns. They slept in inns when they could afford it and in abandoned buildings or under the stars when they could not. Papa worked odd jobs to help them get by. Eventually Papa gained a position on a ship under a captain who allowed Alice to accompany him. And now they were traveling to Dublin to start anew. She hoped they would never see Mr. Gold again.

Storybrooke, Sunday July 1, 2018

The next morning, Emma entered the station to see both David and Graham standing in the bullpen. “What’s going on?” she asked, turning to David. “Aren’t you supposed to be off today?”

“Emergency meeting,” Graham replied.

“What’s the emergency?” Emma asked.

“I’ll tell you,” she heard a commanding voice speak from behind her, accompanied by the rhythmic tapping of high heels. The woman, Deputy Mayor Regina Mills, stood in her immaculately tailored skirt suit, her hands on her hips as she glared at them. “Somehow, your department managed to have both a breakthrough discovery and an unparalleled disaster in the same day.” She tossed her shoulder-length brown hair back as she stared at Emma. “Tell me, Deputy Swan, how is it possible to lose a body that has been dead for 300 years?”

Emma looked uncomfortably at the other woman. “Regina, come on, it’s not like we planned to lose him.”

“That’s a bit informal, I think. It’s Deputy Mayor Mills to you! And planned or not, this department needs to fix the mistake.”

“What’s the big deal?” Emma asked. Graham and David were being annoyingly silent. “Forty-eight hours ago we didn’t even know he was there.”

Regina heaved a sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. “The big deal, Deputy Swan, is that this is the first bog body to be found in the northern US! A discovery like this could bring tourists to Storybrooke. Tourists that will bring revenue. Revenue, which, may I remind you, pays your salary!”

Emma huffed in reply, but couldn’t think of anything else to say. Satisfied that she’d intimidated everyone sufficiently, Regina left the station. Graham ordered Emma to go back to hospital and see if she could find anything that he and David may have missed the day before.

Emma didn’t mind the errand, and hoped she could get a chance to check on John Doe during the day. She hurried down to the morgue to complete her task as quickly as possible. After a brief knock on the door, she stepped inside and found Jeff speaking with a young woman Emma had never seen before.

“Deputy Swan,” he said, turning to her as she entered the room. “I was just getting ready to call the station.”

“Oh?” Emma asked as she eyed the newcomer warily.

Jeff pointed toward the other woman. “Let me introduce Matilda Towers. She’s the forensics expert I mentioned the other day.”

“Please, call me Tilly,” the other woman said, extending her hand for a shake.

Emma peered curiously at the Tilly for a moment. “Emma Swan,” she replied, taking the proffered hand and perusing the young woman. Her blond hair fell around her face in waves, save for a few strands she’d pinned back. She had a British accent, large cobalt-blue eyes, an angular jaw, and ears that were slightly pointed at the tip. Inexplicably, an image of John Doe flashed in Emma’s mind. Could he be related to this woman? She immediately shook off the notion. Wouldn’t Tilly know if she had a missing relative who’d last been seen in the area? She chalked it up to her imagination.

“Is everything alright?” Tilly asked nervously.

Emma was embarrassed to find she’d been staring. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. You remind me of someone else, but I can’t place it.”

Tilly chuckled. “I get that a lot.”

Emma narrowed her eyes and looked more closely at the woman. She didn’t look older than 25. “Forgive me if this sounds offensive, but I wasn’t expecting someone so…”

“Young?” Tilly replied. “I’m older than I look. And I’ve studied bog bodies for years. I was quite excited when Jeff phoned and mentioned you’d found one here.”

“Yeah,” Emma said with a shake of her head. “Emphasis on the past tense.”

“Yes. Jeff mentioned that. Any luck on finding him?”

Emma shifted her gaze to Jeff. “That’s actually why I’m here. Graham wanted me to come by and see if I could find anything they missed.”

Jeff waved his hand through the air in a flourishing motion. “By all means. I will never object to a closer inspection from you, dear Emma.” He gave her a flirtatious wink.

Emma scoffed, but before she could say anything more, Tilly jumped in. “Really Jeff? Has a lecherous come-on ever truly worked for you?”

Smiling, Emma pointed to Tilly. “I like her.”

She proceeded to search through the lab while Jeff and Tilly stepped out to visit the cafeteria. Emma searched all throughout the small space, but found nothing that wasn’t already reported by Graham and David. She was tapping her foot frustratedly when Jeff returned.

“No luck?” he asked.

“Nothing that David and Graham haven’t found.” She noticed he’d returned alone. “Where’s Tilly?”

“She wanted to stay upstairs to go through the pictures and scans I took the other day. Wifi is better in the cafeteria than down here.”

“Got it,” Emma replied. “I’m gonna go visit the security office and go over the tapes again.”

“Good idea,” Jeff replied. “I think Walter was the one working Friday night. I wouldn’t put it past him to have fallen asleep on the job.”

Emma bid Jeff farewell and headed up one floor to the security desk. Walter, nicknamed Sleepy, was a very nice guy, but she was pretty sure he was a narcoleptic. Emma had no idea why he was still employed as a security guard. She was all for giving opportunities, but surely there was another job more suited for this guy, right?

When she made it to the desk, she learned that Walter was not in, and wouldn’t be back until the night shift started at 8:00. Resigning herself, Emma sat down to begin reviewing the tape from the other night.

After 45 minutes of reviewing footage from the camera inside the morgue, Emma was nearly ready to pass out. She stood up with the intention of going to get a coffee. However, once she was on the elevator, she decided to first visit John Doe.

Arriving at his floor, she exited the elevator and followed the hall to his room. She knocked on the door frame and he turned to her, flashing her a brilliant smile.

“Swan,” he beamed at her as she walked over to him. He was leaning against the side of the bed, wearing a pair of blue scrub pants and a plain white t-shirt.

“You’re looking well,” she said, returning his smile.

“I feel well. ‘Fit as a fiddle,’ as Dr. Whale says. Other than my lack of memory.”

“You up for a walk?”

“I’d love one,” he replied, and she could swear he had a literal twinkle in his eye.

She looked down at his feet, which she noticed were bare. “Do you have any shoes?”

“Yes, they’re just under the bed there.” He reached down and pulled out a truly ugly pair of sneakers which velcro closures. They looked like orthopedic shoes. He held them up and laughed. “These were apparently left by a former patient. They’re quite a fright to look at, but at least they fit me. Although I do wish we could find the original owner. I hate to think of someone else going without footwear.”

Emma smiled and decided against telling him that whoever left them probably wasn’t missing them at all. He finished putting on his shoes and stood again, standing awkwardly. “Are they comfortable?” she asked.

“Not particularly,” he smiled. “But they’ll do. Now, lead the way.”

Dublin, Ireland, June 15, 1752

She heard footsteps pounding up the stairs moments before the door flung open and he ran into the room.

“Papa!” she cried as she ran to her father.

“Alice.” He panted heavily, trying to catch his breath. “It’s no use. He’s found us. We can’t run anymore.”

“How did he follow us here?”

“I don’t know, love. He must have a way to track your magic.”

She looked perplexed. “What will we do now? Are we never allowed to have a normal life?”

Papa’s lips set in a hard line and his eyebrows drew close together. “I need to face the demon.”

“Papa No!” She tugged on his arm. “Don’t! He’ll kill you!” Her eyes widened and she clung tighter to him. “Let’s run again. Eventually he will stop looking for us.”

“No, my love, he won’t. He will never stop.” He disentangled her from his arm with a grunt. “If I don’t face him now, what future is that? Always looking over our shoulders. Wondering if someone in the town works for him and is spying on us. I will not let you live such a life. This ends tonight.”

She defiantly grabbed his hand and pulled him to a stop. “The only thing that will end is your life! Papa! Please don’t do this!”

His posture relaxed and looked down at her, tears flooding his eyes. “I’m sorry starfish. I must.”

“Then let me come with you.”

“No! You have to stay here. I need to know that you are safe. That’s the only way I can make it through.”

“But Papa…” she trailed off as her eyes flooded with tears.

He kneeled down to look her in the eye. “No, listen to me. You cannot go near that monster. Promise me, love. No matter what happens to me, promise you will never step foot near that devil if you can avoid it. I’ve done all this to protect you from him. Will you so easily give up my labors?”

“What will you do?” She sniffled in defeat. “How can you convince him to leave us alone?”

“I have a plan, my dear. Trust me, please.”

“I don’t like this Papa. Please don’t leave me.”

He reached out and wiped a tear from her cheek “I know you don’t like this, but you are stronger than you know. If something happens, if I don’t come back, and if that bastard finds you…” he trailed off.

“What, Papa?” she asked, her voice quavering.

“Never stop fighting.” He moved his hand to settle it on her shoulder and tilted his head to force her to meet his gaze. “Starfish, you are so strong. You have abilities I could only dream of. He wants you so he can exploit your gifts. But you are stronger than him. You can fight him.”

Tears were pouring down her cheeks and she gulped huge sobs. “I…” her words were choked out by another sob. “I don’t know, Papa. I don’t even know how to control this power. How can I use it to fight him?”

“I hope we don’t have to find out just yet. I hope that my plan works. But if it doesn’t, then trust in yourself. Listen to your instincts.” He pulled her into a tight embrace. “I love you, Alice. And I am so proud of you. You are my light in a dark world.”

“I love you too, Papa.”

She stood by the window and watched him leave, tears flooding down her cheeks, accompanied by huge gulping sobs. She bit her lip to try and stop its quivering. She paced the room, tried reading a book, and did anything she could think of to occupy her time. But it was no use. Eventually she found herself at the window once more. She wanted to be near her Papa, no matter his wishes. She couldn’t bear the thought of him facing that monster alone. Alice squeezed her eyes tight and held her breath, thinking hard of her Papa and picturing his face. Her eyes stayed shut, but she suddenly felt the air around her change. She could smell the musty odor of grass dampened by an evening rainstorm. Prying one eye open, she saw that she was standing in the woods, just beyond a clearing of trees where a group of men had gathered.

No, she realized with a start. Not a group of men. A mob. Surrounding one man. Papa.

She opened her mouth to call out to him, but thought better of it and instead hid behind a particularly large tree trunk. She didn’t know her magic could do this! She could transport herself to any location just by thinking of it? It was no wonder the evil man Gold wanted her power! She focused her gaze on Papa. If she could change her location with just a thought, could she use her magic to protect him? She stared at him and concentrated her mind on one sentence: please don’t let them kill my papa.

Papa stood armed with a sword, his cutlass from his time in the Navy. He’d kept it sharp, and since their first encounter with the evil man, he’d been practicing his skills. He held it out now in a defensive stance as he faced down the semi-circle of five men.

“I admire your bravery, even as futile as it is,” she heard Gold call out, safely shielded by his guards. “Where is the girl?”

“I’ll never give her to you! She is not some possession you can take from me. She is my daughter and I will die to keep her safe!”

“That can be arranged,” the evil man growled, motioning to his henchmen, who started to close in on Papa. “This is your last chance. Give me the girl now and I will spare your life.”

“I am not a coward like you! I will not give her up to spare myself.”

“So be it,” the evil man replied, and his first henchman lunged toward Papa. But Papa was ready, and he parried the blow. He fought the brute of a man for only a few minutes before sinking his sword into the man’s belly. He withdrew the sword with a horrible sucking noise before turning to his next attacker.

One by one he took down the henchman, until he stood in front of Gold, sweating and panting, but otherwise none the worse for wear. Alice was proud of his abilities, but continued to repeat her mantra quietly to herself. “Please don’t let him kill my Papa. Please don’t let him kill my Papa.”

The smaller man heaved a put-upon sigh. “It is impossible to find good help these days.” Gold thrust his arm forward and Papa’s sword flew from his hand and into the other man’s grasp. “I really should be conserving my power, but for you, I’ll make an exception.” Alice could just make out the sneer on his face as he raised his other hand. Papa instinctively lifted his arm to block a blow, but was instead magically frozen in place. Gold brought Papa’s sword down and, in one swift blow, severed his left hand from his wrist.

The enchantment holding him in place lifted and Papa screamed in anguish, grasping his left forearm in his right hand while blood poured down over what remained of his wrist. Gold raised the sword again, going for a killing blow, but Alice felt as her magic reached out and encircled Papa. The blow glanced off the barrier, knocking the sword from Gold’s hand and throwing him back several yards. Alice ran out to the clearing and kneeled beside Papa.

“Alice!” Papa choked out. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s okay Papa. I’ve got you,” she replied in as soothing a tone as possible.

“You little bitch!” Gold screamed as he stood, but before he could advance, Alice wrapped her arms around Papa and squeezed her eyes shut, magically transporting them back home.

When they landed, Alice realized they weren’t at the boarding house in Dublin they’d been hiding in. They were back at their old house, in Dorset, in front of the blacksmith’s shop. The place Alice thought of when she thought of home. Papa clenched his teeth to avoid screaming again. Blood still gushed from the wound. She could tell he wouldn’t last long at this rate.

She moved to put her hands on his arm to try and see if she could use her magic to heal him, but he shoved her away as gently as he could in his current state.

“No, starfish,” he grunted. “Don’t touch it.”

“We have to stop the bleeding, Papa!” She pleaded with him, eyes wide.

His eyes, which had remained mostly dry until now, poured over with shameful tears as he looked upon his daughter. He nodded slowly and she wrapped her small fingers around his mangled wrist, closing her eyes and concentrating with all her might to heal him. She could feel her magic starting and sputtering, but the reservoir was seemingly drained, leaving nothing to allow her to heal him. She opened her eyes and stared at him.

“I’m sorry Papa. I can’t do it.” She felt fresh, hot tears leak from her eyes now as guilt washed over her.

“Don’t…” he grunted. “Don’t blame yourself… ah… star… fish. You’ve… done… so much… bloody hell!” He clenched his teeth, holding back the string of curses he so obviously wanted to let loose, but would not allow himself to do in her presence.

His face cleared for a brief moment as he looked at the shop behind them. It had been taken over by someone else, and she could see the coals of the fire still glowing. Papa stood and stumbled as best he could to the shop. The new occupant stood there, having just placed an oblong disk into the forge. He turned and jumped when he saw Papa and Alice, both covered in blood.

“What happened to you, mate?!” the blacksmith cried as he took them in.

Papa ignored him. “Alice, get the…” he paused, groaning. “Get the tongs. Take that disk out of the fire and put it on the anvil.”

Alice did as he instructed. The shop owner just stood back, watching the scene in abject horror. Papa stumbled to the anvil and stood there, gathering his courage as best he could. “Stand… stand back love,” he said to Alice, and she obeyed. She watched as he took a deep breath, then slammed the open end of his blunted wrist onto the hot metal. A loud hissing noise filled the room, followed by an inhuman shriek of pain from Papa. The sickening smell of burnt flesh permeated the air. Papa kept his wrist on the disk for as long as he could before he collapsed beside the anvil. Alice looked at his arm. Where once there’d been a strong, calloused hand, there now stood a black, smoking hunk of flesh. Alice felt her knees weaken and she fell to floor, letting her sobs overtake her.

Storybrooke, Present Day

“So,” Emma began, shoving her hands in her pockets as she peered over at her companion. “Have you had any luck in remembering anything?”

“Unfortunately, no. And Dr. Whale cannot find a medical explanation for my memory loss. It’s quite the puzzle. The only thing he’s determined conclusively is that I must be some sort of craftsman. Perhaps a metallurgist.”

“Why does he think that?”

He stopped and held out his hand to her for inspection. “I have a fair number of burn marks in my arms that would indicate I have spent some time in that trade.”

She tentatively reached for his right arm and held it at the wrist, inspecting the scars that indicated he’d on more than one occasion had hot flecks of metal embedded in his skin. “Well,” she said in reply, “at least we now have a name for you.”

“We do? That’s new information to me.”

“Mr. Smith,” she replied with a smile, meeting his gaze with her own.

He returned her expression with a dazzling smile of his own. “Mr. Smith it is, then.” He slowly pulled his arm back. Emma loosened her grip, but before she could retract her hand, he caught it in his own and threaded their fingers together. Their hands dropped to hang between them and they continued their stroll, taking in the pleasantly warm weather.

They walked along for some time, and Emma was struck by how thoroughly at home she felt with this man. She was so comfortable with him, nothing like her relationships with Neal or Graham. In both situations she’d felt a deep sense of inequality, where her partner was providing her with more than she was giving in return. And while she’d only known Mr. Smith for a day, she knew instinctively that a relationship with him would be different. She felt on equal ground with him, which, when she thought about it, was absurd since he was far more dependent on her at the moment. There was also the hugely inconvenient fact that she knew nothing about this man. Still, she couldn’t stop the sense of right that she felt at his side.

They stopped to watch the reflection of the sky on a small pond.

“So,” Smith began, “Since I can’t tell you about myself, can you tell me about you? I know you work for the constable.”

“Sheriff’s Office,” Emma corrected, “but yes, I’m a deputy.”

“Marvelous. I’ve never known a woman to hold that position before, although I’ve known many who would be much more formidable than some of the men I’ve seen hold that office.”

She smiled up at him. “I am really starting to believe that you must come from some sort of Amish community. It’s 2018. How have you never seen a female cop before?”

“It’s 2018, you say?” he asked suddenly, stopping and staring at the ground, his brow furrowed.

“Yes. Did you just remember something?”

“No… that is, not a fact or a memory. More of an impression. It seems very strange to me, the year. Like I am having a hard time believing so many years have passed.”

“So many years?”

“Hundreds…” he replied, trailing off as he met her gaze. He held her captive with his eyes for a brief moment before tearing away. “But that’s ridiculous. It would be impossible for me to be alive if hundreds of years had passed before I woke up.”

Emma licked her lips and swallowed thickly. “Right…”

“Can you tell me something else?” He asked, his expression pleading with her to change the subject.

“I have a son,” she responded with another smile. “Henry. He’s twelve. He’s not really interested in spending time with his mom anymore.”

“I see,” Smith said, looking dejected. “I am sure he is a fine lad. And the boy’s father?”

Emma stopped again and looked up, placing her hand on his shoulder. “He’s gone. It’s just me and Henry.”

His face relaxed and his eyes lit up. “I know this sounds crazy,” Smith said with a coy smile, “but I think I know what that’s like. Being on your own with a child.”

“You have a child?” Her sense of panic flared at his words and she quickly pulled her hand away. “I need to work harder to find your family. Your child could be all alone!”

He paused and reached out, grabbing her hand once more and squeezing lightly.“I don’t know for sure that I do, but any help you can provide to restore my memories I will gladly accept.”

Emma calmed as she looked at him again. She could get lost in the depths of his brilliant blue eyes. Without fully realizing it, she slowly began to rise on her toes, bringing their mouths closer to one another. When they were just a breath apart, she paused, realizing what she was doing. Part of her desperately wanted to close the gap and capture his lips with her own. But another part of her hesitated, skeptical of the unexplainable connection she felt to this man.

Before she could make up her mind, she heard her name being called from a distance. She lowered down quickly and gently released Smith’s hand, turning to face her brother.

“David,” she replied with a smile. “I was just taking a break from reviewing security footage. You remember the amnesic patient I found yesterday, right? I wanted to check on him.” She gestured to her companion. “David, this is Mr. Smith. Well,” she paused, “that’s what we’re calling him until he remembers his name. Mr. Smith, this is my brother, David.”

Smith took David’s hand in his own and shook it heartily. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise,” David said, looking at the other man warily. He turned his gaze to Emma. “So, we need to head back to Jeff’s office. The forensic expert he brought in has something to show us.”

“Tilly? Did she say what it was? I met her earlier. She didn’t show me anything new then.”

“No. She just said it might be helpful in our search.”

“Okay, let me walk Mr. Smith back to his room and I’ll join you down there.”

“I’ll walk with you,” David replied in a tone that brokered no argument. They speedily returned Smith to his room and then continued on toward the elevators. Once they were safely on board, David turned to his sister with a disdainful look.

“Were you seriously about to kiss that man, Emma?”

“What? No! Of course not.”

“Good. Don’t give into the urge if it arises again. That man is vulnerable. He doesn’t need you clouding his mind with confusing thoughts while he tries to recover.”

“David!” Emma smacked her brother on the arm with the back of her hand. “You act like I’m some sort of a man-eater. I was not doing anything that could be considered taking advantage of a patient.”

“Could have fooled me,” was all David said in reply. Emma felt shame bloom across her face and remained silent until they reached Jeff’s office. Once there, they were met with Jeff, Tilly, and Graham.

“Emma,” Graham said by way of greeting. “I believe you’ve met Ms. Towers?”

“Tilly, please Sheriff,” the young woman interjected before Emma could respond. Graham nodded in reply.

“Yes, we’ve met,” Emma said. “I hear you have something for us?”

“I do,” Tilly said in an excited manner. She turned to the laptop behind her and clicked through a few windows before finding what she was looking for. “I was able to create a composite sketch of what the body may have looked like when he was alive, based on the scans and pictures Jeff took.

“Okay,” Emma said. “While that’s cool, how does it help us find the body?”

“Emma, please, let her finish,” Graham scolded, and Emma felt like she was 10 years old and being pushed around by James.

Tilly turned her screen so they could see the sketch. It was remarkable. The picture looked like a very handsome man, with an angular jaw, deep set eyes, and a long nose that was slightly bulbous at the end.

“Hey,” David said. “That looks just like Mr. Smith.”

“Pardon?” Tilly asked, perking up and staring at David with more than a little interest.

“Mr. Smith,” David replied. “The amnesic patient Emma found yesterday. She was just upstairs visiting and I met him. The resemblance is almost uncanny. I wonder if they’re related or something like that.”

“You found an amnesic patient yesterday?” Tilly asked, turning to Emma. “No one thought to tell me this sooner?”

“What relevance would it have for you?” Emma asked, getting increasingly annoyed at all the people chastising her. “You’re not here to help us with a missing person case. You’re here to help us find a missing 300 year-old body.”

“Where is this man?” Tilly asked in reply, ignoring Emma’s question.

“Nowhere you’re going to find him,” Emma replied defensively. “He has no relevance to your purpose here. You need to leave him alone.”

Tilly huffed and snapped her laptop shut. “We’re done for the day. I’m going back to my room at Granny’s to continue some more work. Jeff, you have my number if something comes up.”

“Sure Tilly,” Jeff replied softly. “See you later.”

Tilly quickly threw her laptop in a backpack and stomped out of the room.

“What was that about?” Graham asked, turning to Emma.

“I don’t see why she needs to go bothering Mr. Smith. He’s no concern of hers.”

“And I think he’s had enough bothering for today,” David added, causing Emma to throw him an angry glare.

To be continued in Part 3!

@artistic-writer @bleebug @cat-sophia @courtorderedcake @distant-rose @flipperbrain @flslp87 @huffleporg @iamanneenigma @initiala @jennjenn615 @kday426 @kymbersmith-90 @killian-whump @laschatzi @lassluna @lillpon @resident-of-storybrooke @rouhn @sherlockianwhovian @searchingwardrobes @shireness-says @snidgetsafan @spartanguard @teamhook @winterbythesea @winterbaby89 @wingedlioness @wyntereyez @yayimallamaagain

[hookedonapirate]

Hello love, how about F, H, M? 😘😘

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

For me, dialogue and knowing what the characters will say and respond in a way that’s believable is the most difficult part about writing. Feelings and thoughts are easy, describing things or actions can be tough, but anyone who knows me knows communication isn’t my strong suit. This is one reason I love writing so much because it’s my own way of communicating. With that said, this one shot I wrote is some of the best banter I’ve written and maybe because it was a Secret Santa gift and I was trying really hard not to f***k it up. Here’s a little snippet of Give Me Some Sugar. I had fun with all of the dialogue in this so its it was hard to pick just a small section.

“Evening, lass. You must be the new manager I’ve heard about.” His Irish accent caught her off guard, sending shivers down her spine as he approache. And somehow she found it difficult to breathe and was absolutely certain that she was having heart palpitations.

She shifted a bit and folded her arms, attempting to hide the smirk threatening her lips. “And how did you ever come up with that conclusion, mister perceptive? The nametag that says ‘Store Manager’ on my shirt? I mean I could have stolen this and locked the actual manager in the back room and instead of stealing money from the till I decided to stand behind this counter just to appear to be working. I bet you were too busy trying to come up with something oh so clever and crafty to say that the thought never crossed your pretty head.” Her voice was thick with sarcasm, but the broad smile it created was well worth the effort that she put forward given her exhausted state.

His eyes drifted to said nametag and reverted back to her gaze. “Honesty, though I am quite perceptive, I didn’t even look at your nametag at first. I saw you working from the window.” The man casually leaned on the counter as she held her sarcastic glare. “And I should be offended that you think I’m just a pretty face but I can only imagine that a woman as beautiful as yourself is used to being hit on by handsome men so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.”

Emma felt blush creep into her cheeks and the smile she had been holding back pulled at the corner of her lips. “Ah, peeking through shop windows. So you’re a stalker? Got it.”

He chuckled. “Sorry, I should have clarified. I own the cupcake and candy shop across from here.”

Emma gave a nod, reluctantly accepting his answer. Ever since the day she started, she had been curious about the place. She often caught the waft of wonderful smells when she passed during the day and got a peak of the delicious looking chocolates and cupcakes through the window. “So you’re Killian?” The name of the shop was ‘Killian’s Candies and Cupcakes’ after all.

“Aye. Killian Jones. You’re quite the perceptive one yourself,” he taunted and she responded with an eye roll.

“Well, you never know. You could have just locked up the actual owner and stole his shop like a pirate and are just posing as him.”

He gave her a bemused expression. “You’re right, lass. Between the two of us, we could start a fraudulent managers club.”

“You know, that’s actually not a bad idea. Free cupcakes and cards for everyone.” They both laughed. “So what is it I can do for you, other than entertain your muse after you felt the urge to come over and pester the new fake management?” she asked, the laughter still lingering in her throat.

He offered a charming smile, his light features never fading and the lilt in his accent and the sarcasm in his tone never letting up.

“I actually came here as a potential customer seeking a card, if you’re still up for pretending to work. I wouldn’t want to interrupt your little scheme you’ve got going on here.”

Emma pursed her lips in thought. “Well, I might be able to help you with that, seeing as the selection is plentiful and stocked full of cards with sayings and poems that hold a certain cheesiness that matches your pickup lines,” she teased playfully. There was no harshness to her words, but she figured this was the best route to take to cover up the effect he had on her.

He chuckled, suddenly appearing to be a little shy. “Well, now that we’re on the same page… I was wondering if you had a card for a lass who I’ve just started dating. It’s our one month anniversary tomorrow and I’m not even sure if she’ll like my gift but I wanted to get her something and express my affections without being overzealous.”

Emma was a little disappointed if she were being honest, but quickly convinced herself it was a good thing and reverted her attention back to the problem at hand, making her way around the counter. “Let’s see… I think I might be able to find something.” She quickly transformed into customer service mode and carefully looked through the selection of cards in the for her section of the anniversary cards. She found something within minutes and handed the card to him. “How’s this? It’s simple and expresses your interest without being overly romantic.”

His eyes lit up as he read the card. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Not a problem. Why don’t I pretend to ring you up, unless there’s anything else you need.”

“No, that’s it. I already got her a necklace and was dreading getting her a card because I didn’t want to scare her off by being too sappy.”

“Well, unless you got her a heart necklace and confessed your love in the card, I think she will like them both. And that’s coming from a woman who has a fear of commitment, so I think you’re safe,” she assured him with a laugh, hiding the regret of her words. God, why did she have to tell him that?

Killian lifted a brow, his expression full of intrigue as she rang up his purchase. She was hoping he wouldn’t elaborate as he stood at the counter, running his hand through his hair. He started to say something but then paused briefly before saying something else. “Good to know that you approve then.” His voice was light and playful as he smiled and handed her cash to pay for the card.

Bagging up his purchase, she smiled back warmly, relieved that he didn’t press her further about her confession.

“Thanks again, Emma.”

“You’re very welcome. I hope you enjoy your anniversary.” It took her about five seconds to realize he had used her name and her face contorted in confusion. “How did you-?”

“And here I thought we agreed that I was quite perceptive.”

She looked down at her nametag before lifting her eyes to his again and gave a soft shrug. “It’s not really my name but I kind of like it.” she joked as he handed her cash for his purchase and she put the money in the drawer. “It was very nice to meet you, Killian Jones… or whoever you really are.”

“You as well, Emma…”

“Swan,” she finished.

“Emma Swan. It suits you,” he smirked and gave her a parting nod. “If you’d ever like to stop by the shop that I pretend to own and try some of the chocolates that I pretend to make, you’re more than welcome.”

Her smile was beaming as she finally released his hand. “I will definitely keep that in mind.”

H: How would you describe your style?

I always have an image in my head when I write scenes and they never turn out the way I envision, I’m not as good at intricate descriptions of the physical pieces of what I imagine or describing what could be said in one sentence, in three paragraphs, but I think one thing I am good at is describing feelings and emotions, tuning into the characters and what they are feeling.

M: Got any premises on the back burner that you’d care to share?

There is one story I’ve started that was also inspired by True Blood, but it’s not about vampires or nearly as dark. And I made @onceuponaprincessworld promise me she wouldn’t let me post it until I finish it lol.

So in this story, Killian and Emma are pining for other people - Milah and her cousin Neal. Milah and Emma are best friends (don’t ask why I’ve been pairing these up a lot lately because I have no clue) and Milah persuades Emma into taking a Zumba class, using Neal as bait because he goes to the same gym to work out. It turns out Killian is the Zumba instructor and one night Emma and Killian get snowed in at the fitness center and that’s all I’m gonna say ;)

Thanks Tori : D

[herohawks]

Five times Connor is forced to call Hank “dad”. They both suffer.

A/N: short little snippets im writing while my wrist is out of commission. dont know if im going to post them to ao3 since  kinda crack-ish lmao. feel free to send me prompts.

---

PART 1

“Remind me again why we agreed to this shit?”

Connor hefts a box onto his shoulder and balances another on his hip. Hank is struggling to carry one. The bottom of the cardboard is not taped adequately to withstand the current weight. Hank had been the one to tape this particular box, but Connor thinks it best not to point this out.

“We agreed to take the case because we are one of the few within the DPD who specialize in android-human crime. And, as Captain Fowler pointed out, our particular skill sets will allow us to infiltrate this group much easier than our other coworkers,” Connor says as he leads the way to the front door of their new home.

Hank snorts, uneven steps following not far behind. “Skill sets. Yeah. That what they’re calling it these days?”

“That’s what the captain called it, yes.” Connor deftly switches the box on his hip to his knee, balancing it between his leg and the wall so he can fish out the house key the captain had entrusted to him.

The key latches in easily and Connor swings the door open with little fanfare. He allows Hank to go first under the guise of trying to get a better grip on the box he’s currently holding over his knee. The structural integrity of Hank’s box is nearly at its limit.

“Well,” Hank huffs, dropping the box onto the living room floor with a muffled thump. Connor sets his down much more gently. “Jeffrey has always been too nice for his own good, so I’m gonna set it to you straight. You look like a goddamned twink and Jeffrey thinks your scrawny ass will fit in real well with these other skinny, starving college kids. I’m here to make sure you don’t screw it up.”

Connor looks to the ceiling and sighs. It’s a mannerism he’s picked up from Detective Reed that he quite likes. It accurately and efficiently sums up what he wishes to convey with little effort on his part.

“I am not ‘scrawny’,” Connor says, a tad defensive. “Second, the term ‘twink’ is widely outdated and carries negative conn—“

“Connor. Do me a favor and shut the fuck up.” Hank stretches his back, then groans loudly when it pops. “Jesus, I’m too old for this shit.”

“You only carried one box,” Connor points out helpfully, twirling the key ring on his finger for lack of anything better to do with his hands. He itches to go bring in the other nine boxes stacked in Hank’s car.

Hank rolls his eyes so hard Connor is briefly worried that they’ll fall out their sockets. “Jesus Christ. Just – go get the other boxes, would ya?”

Connor does, and makes good time. Hank grumbles while unpacking the boxes, throwing things in a haphazard manner that must have some sort of logic to it, though it’s not one that Connor can decipher at a glance.

With Hank’s back turned to him, Connor takes the chance to run a quick scan. The lieutenant’s blood sugar is low, and Connor detects a minor muscle strain in his lower back from poor posture and lack of adequate hydration.

They still need to go grocery shopping, but Connor had packed a few granola bars and water bottles just in case. He digs them out of one of the boxes and kneels down beside Hank to hand them over. “You need to eat, Lieutenant.”

“Thanks,” he says gruffly, snatching the water and energy bar from Connor. He sets it aside so Connor leaves him be and goes to unpack the other boxes.

They settle into an easy rhythm. An hour later, Connor hears the telltale crinkle of the protein bar being unwrapped and wisely says nothing when Hank’s mood significantly improves from that point after.

What probably felt like an eternity for Hank but was in actuality three hours and thirty-two minutes, they’re finally finished settling in. Connor is pleased to note everything is where it needs to be when he does a cursory scan of the rooms. Despite Hank’s grumbling, they make a great team.

“Great work, Lieutenant,” Connor says as he comes back into the living room where Hank is currently lounging on the couch. “It seems like everything is in order.”

Hank scoffs. “Don’t act so surprised.” A pause. “And it’s not ‘Lieutenant’ right now. Don’t blow our cover.”

“You’re right. Sorry, Dad.” The moment the sentence leaves his vocal unit, a heavy silence stretches between them. Connor has a peculiar urge to exit the room and not return for maybe forever.

“Okay. That was fucking weird,” Hank says finally, breaking the tense hush that had fallen over the room. He runs a hand over his beard, eyes flicking around but never settling on one thing for long.

Connor feels some of the tenseness in his shoulders melt away at the implication that Hank, too, may be feeling some measure of awkwardness. “I agree.”

“Shit. We need to get our shit together before we’re seen in public.”

“It’ll take some getting used to,” Connor admits, and runs a finger along the outer seam of his jeans. They’re not as comfortable nor as flexible as the pants CyberLife had issued him, but it’s currently the style preference of many young adults, and Connor has to blend in. He still misses his own pants, though.

“Want to go grab a bite and forget this ever happened?” Hank asks as he pulls himself up from the couch with a grunt.

Connor does. “Yes. I would like that.”

Hank makes a valiant effort to throw his crumpled wrapper into the small waste bin set along the floor separating the kitchen and living room. He misses. Connor quietly goes over and places the wrapper in the bin.

“Thanks. Hey, don’t forget your glasses,” Hank says and Connor can’t help but wrinkle his nose. Hank laughs. “What, not a fan?”

“You know I’m not,” Connor says, a little cross. Nevertheless, he unhooks it from his shirt and puts them on. They constantly slip down the bridge of his nose. “It’s impractical.”

Hank does not care about his suffering. “It’s your disguise so quit complaining. You’re not the only one who had to make some changes.”

The lieutenant scruffs a self-conscious hand over his freshly cut hair. It’s shorn short with the top a little longer – it looks good, Connor thinks. Makes him appear younger and highlighting the blues of his eyes.

Connor’s glasses, on the other hand, do not look good. They’re clunky and annoying, and Connor thinks they sit awkwardly on his face. The urge to snap them in half is strong.

“They look fine,” Hank says with the tone of someone who’s said this many, many times, which he has. Connor does not believe him any of those times. “Hurry up. I’m starving.”

“Fine.” Connor is getting better at expressing his displeasure through his tone, but Hank tends to ignore this new development as he does with anything he finds inconvenient.

They decide to walk. More accurately, Connor decides that if they’re going to order something unhealthy, they can, at the very least, walk there. Hank is not pleased. Connor doesn’t care.

  A mile and a half later, a small lot with a few food trucks parked in a messy half-circle comes into view. Hank makes a beeline for the hotdog truck so Connor trails behind him. Hank orders a hotdog with only one topping at Connor’s insistence, and Connor buys a small vanilla milkshake to maintain appearances.

  The lot is very crowded, but they manage to snag a table near the sidewalk and away from most of the congested foot-traffic. There’s a light drizzle so Connor pops open the umbrella attached to the table. The atmosphere reminds him of their meeting at the Chicken Feed all those months ago, when Hank had been skeptical and Connor had been apologetic and insistent.

  That had been one of their first, positive conversations. It’s a fond memory, one that Connor keeps tucked away in his memory files for safekeeping.

  “So,” Hank says, snapping Connor out of his musings. “Excited about your first day of school tomorrow?” Hank is grinning so Connor levels him with an unimpressed look. “What? A father can’t have a healthy interest in his son’s education?”

  Connor sets his plastic cup down firmly. “No.”

  “Don’t be like that,” Hank laughs and Connor shakes his head, rubbing his fingers along his temple in a gesture he’s seen Hank do many times.

  His fingers stutter over the place where his LED used to be, the synthetic skin smooth to the touch. He feels oddly naked without it. Vulnerable. He wouldn’t mind the glasses half as much if he could just have his LED back.

  Something must show on his face because Hank’s smile fades a few seconds later, replaced with a worried expression. “Hey, kid. You alright?”

  “Fine,” Connor says a touch too quickly. Hank’s eyebrows shoot up, clearly unconvinced. He runs a finger one more time over his temple before placing it back on the table. “Nervous, maybe.”

  “Hmm. About school?” The way he says it implies he is talking about something else. Connor believes he is inquiring about their current undercover case, so he nods. “Don’t sweat it. You’ll be fine. You’re smart, and a fast learner. You’ll fit right in.”

  Connor has his doubts. While he’s done extensive research into the university as well as updating his human integration program to include the most recent pop culture and dialect, Connor can’t help the uneasiness that settles in the pit of his stomach. Maybe Hank is right. Perhaps this is beyond their capabilities.

  Connor keeps silent and pretends to sip his milkshake.

College is…an experience.

Connor takes the automated bus despite Hank’s insistence he drive him there. The walkways are constantly flooded with harried students and Connor finds himself having to fight the crowd more often than not.

He observes that many of his peers carry some type of overly-caffeinated beverage on them at all times (there had been a memorable moment when Connor’s sensors had picked up vodka disguised as water in someone’s water bottle, but he’d kept the information to himself). After this observation, Connor stopped by the local coffee shop on campus to purchase a small, black coffee. It reminds him of Hank.

His classes had been fairly boring, but Connor supposes that is to be expected. Hank had told him university was probably going to be uninteresting to an android that could calculate over a thousand possible scenarios in two seconds. Connor had promptly told him it actually takes him an average of 0.53 seconds to compute those scenarios, which had resulted in Hank scuffing him across the head.

Connor, despite his reservations, slots into college life seamlessly. Finding the group responsible for the android hate crimes disguised as hazing is almost too simple. They arrest the group three months later once he’s obtained the proper amount of evidence, plus some. Connor wishes they’d at least make it a challenge.

Overall, a success.

“Good job on your first undercover op,” Hank says over dinner.

Here, Connor doesn’t have to pretend to eat. He hadn’t realized how exhausting it is to pretend to be human. His LED is firmly reinstalled, and Connor brings his fingers up to brush it periodically, the familiar ridges soothing.

Sumo lies by their feet, tail thumping happily every time Connor or Hank looks his way. The Saint Bernard had missed them dearly in their four months apart.

“Thank you.” Connor is pleased with the results. His whole body feels warm, but jittery at the same time, like he has excess energy that can’t be contained. He bounces his leg, he twiddles his fingers, and shifts his posture every few seconds. “I’m glad we were able to bring them to justice.”

“Nah,” Hank says after swallowing a bite of his vegetarian stir-fry (Connor’s making, of course). “You’re just happy you don’t have to wear those dorky glasses anymore.”

“So you agree, then. That they looked bad.” Connor feels betrayed. Hank had told him they’d looked fine. Hank is a filthy liar.

Hank snorts and shovels more food into his mouth before replying. “What’d you do with them anyway?” Avoiding Connor’s sort-of question.

Connor rolls his shoulders in a self-satisfied way, and shoots Hank a sly grin. “On the record, I disposed of them in the appropriate recycling bin. Off the record, they may have ended up in a bonfire at the last party I attended as a college student.”

Hank barks a laugh and slaps the table. Connor smiles, too. “Shit,” Hank says, wiping his eyes. “You make me proud, kid.”

“Thank you.”

“Tell ya what, though. Having you call me ‘dad’ for four months was probably the most awkward four months of my life. As long as we don’t gotta do that shit again, I can die happy,” Hank says, taking a sip of his water.

Connor nods. “Agreed.”

[mystery-pining]

haha nOTE

TMy muse has died. Send ‘note’ for a goodbye letter my muse wrote to yours as a precaution, in case something, like it has, should happen. (always accepting despite my better judgment)

(Two notes for the price of one! Trigger warnings for suicidal ideation, dark humor, self-deprecation, self loathing, self hate, death, and implied death!)

Dear Mabel,

Remember when Grunkle Stan tried to teach us about stargazing and navigation before all this happened, and how the North Star always will take you true north, toward home? I don’t know where the North Star is nowadays, but, I keep seeing that awful pink bubble Bill’s got you trapped in and I’m heading for that instead. I’m never gonna stop trying to get to you, Mabel, and I don’t care how long it takes. Wherever you are, whatever happens, I’m going to find you, and you’re going to make it through this. You’re going to be okay.

But… in case I don’t… in case I mess up as always or I don’t make it, or, if something happens to me, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I’m sorry all this happened, and I’m sorry for being an awful brother. You’ve always deserved way better than me, and I’m sorry for holding you back all the time and bringing you down. I’m sorry I’m so selfish and I’m really sorry we fought, for every time we fought but especially about this. It’s all my fault… all of this is and always has been my fault, and none of that matters any more. I just want to see tomorrow.

I just want to see you.

Thank you for being my best friend and the best sister I could ask for. Thank you for always making me smile, taking care of me, looking out for me, going on adventures with me, and thank you for always believing in me. I’m sorry I couldn’t do it more for you. I love you so much and I miss you so much. Please, just hang on a little longer, fight just a little harder. I’m coming, Mabel, I promise.

Love,

Dipper

Mabel,

If you’re reading this, I’m sorry I broke our promise.

I know I said that we were always gonna be there for each other… just us against the rest of the world… but, out of the two of us, I’m so, so glad it’s me that’s gone, and probably you are too. I was always just another thing to bring you down and another thing holding you back. I was always the boring one, the disappointment, the failure, the one who was never good enough. Everybody’s always wanted me to be more like you, including me.

But… either way, I’m sorry it had to end like this. I’m sorry I let you down one last time. Whatever happened, I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to handle it… or, maybe I was and I went out protecting you and Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford and Soos and Melody and Wendy and everyone else. That would be a pretty good way to go, if I’m honest. But, knowing me, I probably electrocuted myself with the coffee maker or fell out of a window or something. Typical Dipper, am I right?

Well, anyways, I guess that doesn’t matter. You know better than me, anyways, and I probably got what was coming to me. So… Mabel… don’t blame yourself? If I went, it was my time to go. You still have the rest of your life ahead of you. So make it a good one, okay? Keep laughing, keep smiling, keep being that bright ray of sunshine for everyone. Love just as hard and as much as you did before, and don’t let this stop you from achieving your dreams. You’ve got so much going for you, Mabes, and you’ve got a lot of great things ahead of you. You better do all of them… and I mean all of them. Take chances, take risks, live a little… in this case, actually do do things that I wouldn’t do.

But… that being said, it’s okay and normal to be sad for a while. Just remember to build a blanket fort (yes, with all the stuffed animals too), turn on a good movie, and make some great snacks. Give yourself a hug, too… for my sake? Oh, and please let people help you through everything. You’ve got tons of people who care about you… please let them help you through this and everything else you might go through. I know you can do pretty much anything, but you don’t have to be alone.

And… thank you, Mabel. Thank you for everything, and especially for being my best friend and the best sister ever. Thank you for loving me, even when I didn’t deserve it which was most of the time to be honest, for putting up with me, making me smile, being there for me, and for being such an inspiration to me. You’re one of the best, nicest, kindest people I know and I’ve always looked up to you. There’s so much more I wanted to do together and so many places I wanted to go, things to explore… and I’m sorry we’ll never have the chance. And… I’m sorry I have to leave on this adventure alone.

…There’s so much more I want to say, but I don’t know how to. It’s so hard to write this stuff in advance. Just… I love you, May-May. I love you so much, and I miss you already. I know I’ll see you again… but don’t try to speed up things, okay? I don’t want to be a ghost, or a zombie, or brought back to life Frankenstein-style.

Mystery Twins?

Love always and forever,

– Mason Dipper Dip