#I’m just going to douse my face in moisturizer and hope for the best

[saccharine-sylphid]

I’M HAVING AN ECZEMA FLARE UP THE DAY BEFORE VALENTINES DAY. As if it couldn’t get any worse.

[p---ink]

White.

Author’s Note: First Chris Oneshot. It was supposed to be a blurb/drabble, but I think its a bit too long for that now. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this filth. Also you ever get that feeling, where you feel like you've came up with an idea in your head originally, but also feel like you may have seen it somewhere else? Yea that's how I feel about this piece. So if you've read something similar to this, please link it and let me know so I can edit or delete this post altogether.

Summary: Chris greets you after a long day at work, with some TLC.

Word Count: 2.9k.

Warning: Fluff and Smut. Oral (female receiving), fingering, Semi-mean Daddy Chris, over-stimulation, multiple orgasms, and I think...maybe that’s it? Please let me know if I forgot something.

Disclaimer: Gif is not mine. 

“The kids are asleep?” You whispered, when he held his finger to his lips upon your arrival. 

“Yea, I just laid Ezra down. That is one rowdy little person.” He said chuckling, leaning down to plant a kiss on your mouth. He held you by your waist to pepper more along your face. 

“Chris baby, you are a God-send.” You sighed, leaning in to his touch. “You will not believe the shitty day I had.”

“Hold that thought and take a seat, doll” he ordered, urging you towards the living room by your shoulders. “I’ll be right back.” He promised. 

You sighed as you threw your work bag down on the love chair beside you, kicking your shoes off in the process.  When you crossed the room to drop down on the sofa, the weight of today’s events crushed you instantaneously, as you waited for your husband to return. 

You’ve been married for six years, and he’s been good to you for all of them. Great even. He always listened, and almost never complained. How could he when he was usually away, due to his job? 

He was forever busy with filming, press tours and whatnot. It made him feel guilty to leave you and your sons so often. So any time he was at home for a break, he took full advantage. He spent time with his boys, and then the rest with you, spoiling you all with his love. 

Preoccupied with your stress, you almost failed to notice Chris taking a seat in front of you. He took hold of one of your legs, and that’s when you noticed your spa-kit placed next to him. 

“Baby, you don’t have to do this.” You cried, scrunching your face in relief when he rubbed your calf in just the right spot.

Chris flashed those pretty baby blues at you, along with that signature smug smirk. “You know I do. And you know I want to.” He said, before dousing his hands with oil. 

As he firmly massaged the coconut into your skin, you couldn’t help but marvel at him. Taking a pillow into your arms to hug, and hide your giddy smile, you reply with, “What I did I do to deserve you?”

“Well I would tell you, but I don’t have enough time, because you’ve got to tell me about what’s got my girl so upset.” He informed you with a stern look that read who do I have to kill? “Before you do that,” he started, placing your newly moisturized leg down before grabbing the other, “Choose a color.” 

You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth, peering over to take a look into the open basket. It had an assorted amount of different nail polishes and products for nail care. Your favorite color currently decorated the bottom of the basket, and it made you recall the time your oldest son Jeremy spilled its contents over while playing a game of “paint” about a week ago. That boy. You thought, shaking your head playfully. Well I guess I won’t be choosing that one. 

After a moment of close examination, and scrutiny, you chose “White”, which made Chris immediately stop his measures against your legs, to peer up at you through hooded lids. 

“So its one of those days, huh.” He smirked. “I was hoping you’d pick that one.”

“What do you mean by that?” You questioned. You hadn’t known he preferred certain colors on you. 

“I’ll tell you later, but first tell me about your day baby.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice. You were dying to get it all off your chest.  You spilled out your hearts content, as your husband massaged your legs, then your feet, and in between your toes. As he delicately removed the old paint from your last session, and proceeded to paint your feet, you were almost finished relaying the message. 

“…and its just like they treat me like I’m insane! But you know what? The way i’m always overlooked, and ignored, makes me feel like I am going insane. Every time I suggest an idea, its stupid. But let some asshat say the exact same thing, and they praise him like a god.” You complain, rolling your eyes, at your memories from your work day. 

Chris offered you the occasional nod or two, humming softly at your cries of frustration when needed. And as much as he wanted to offer his two cents on the matter, he knew that what you wanted most was to be heard. You just wanted to be listened to. And while you wouldn’t of minded him beating their asses, he knew you needed his tenderness. His love. His care. And so that’s what he gave you. 

“And you know why they do it right? It’s because I’m a woman! A black one at that. Lord Jesus, it pisses me off so much.” You sigh, finally bringing your eyes down to him, after they had been trained on the air and nothingness around you; you had a habit of re-living stories as you told them. “But honey, this has really helped out a lot.” You say, cupping his chin lovingly. 

“You know I’ll do anything for you doll. And fuck those sons of bitches. They’re idiots if they can’t see how amazing you are. If you quit, like I suggested a while ago, that’ll really show ‘em.” Chris exclaimed, applying a second coat of white.

“Now you know I love what I do. I just wish I was more appreciated is all!” 

He gave you a sympathetic look before saying, “well you know me and the boys appreciate you.”, running his fingers along the ridges of your toes to remove the misapplied dye on your skin. 

“I know you do baby. I mean look at what you’re doing for me now.” You said, gesturing towards the care he took with your feet. 

Chris just smiled in response. He only felt slightly defeated when you rejected his idea to stay at home. You told him many stories about the jerks you worked with. You were among one of the only women at your company, and you paid for that fact daily. You told him, how they would talk to you, and treat you, even though you had the same amount, if not more experience as they did. He didn’t want you to have to put up with that. He wanted you to kick your feet up and enjoy the life he would provide for you and the kids you both created. But, like the supportive husband he was, he honored your wishes to pursue your passions. He knew that was what made you happier at the moment. The time would come, where he could spoil you completely, though. 

“Speaking of this,” You started, motioning towards your feet once more. “What’d you mean when you said “So it’s one of those days, huh”” You asked, putting on your best impression of him. 

Chris put on a smile that could light up a room, as a deep throaty chuckle erupted from his chest, and vibrated through your body via your feet. “Is that what you think I sound like? No matter, I’ll tell you what I meant. I can predict exactly what it is you need, and how you feel, based on the nail polish color you choose.” He said confidently, picking up a clear polish to apply the final coat.

“Is that right?” You ask, failing to take him seriously, even when he flashed that cocky grin and brow twitch that he often used to back his claims. “You’re so full of shit.”

“Seriously. I can. Listen.” He informed you, opening the clear polish, and brushing the access paint along the insides of the bottle. “I can prove it.”

“Fine! Go ahead.” You state, becoming intrigued.

Delicately holding your left foot against his knee, he starts explaining his theory while applying polish. “You see, when you choose a pale blue or orange, I know you just wanna forget about things with a movie or a cuddle session. Forest green or black, when you feel like throwing a couple of shots back with your girls at a bar. Mauve and a nude of any kind are your favorites, and you request them when you need to feel in control, classy, or sophisticated. And you always choose a soft pink, or yellow, when you need a happy reminder, or a burst of energy and inspiration. Lavender, is a color I wish you’d choose more, since it represents your happiness. Gray, is a color I wish you’d choose less, since it means you’re sad. And then there’s plum purple and candy apple red, two colors I can’t get enough of. You want those, when you’re feeling sexy. See, baby I can read you like an open book.” He declared, moving on to your second foot. Feeling quite sure of himself. 

You just stared at him in awe. Then you realized he didn’t mention, the one he just spent  ten minutes applying. “You forgot about white.”

“Oh I didn’t forget angel.” He corrected, smirking as he finally finished painting both feet. “I’m just waiting on your toes to dry.” After he says this, he begins to sensually blow cool air on your toes. 

“Chris! Tell me what it means!” You pout playfully, growing fed up with his secrecy. Also tickled from the air he blew. 

“Fine. But be quiet, you don’t wanna wake those little demons.” He warned, fixing you with a stern look that made you erupt into quiet giggles. He always made you laugh with his juxtaposed funny-seriousness. He was seriously funny. “White is my absolute favorite. You wanna know why? Its simple, and doesn’t drown out your pretty personality. It goes with every outfit, purse, and hairstyle. You wear this color, when you’re frustrated. Exasperated. Annoyed. You choose white, when you need me to wrap those pretty little legs around my neck, so I can make you cum till kingdom come. Or until you see, ‘white’. Whichever comes first”. He finished, staring at you seriously all of the sudden. A thick silence had befallen the two of you, and you almost didn’t know how to escape it. 

After a moment, you break out into a smile, despite Chris’ unmoving features. “Are you sure that’s what I want? Or is it something you want?”

“It’s what you need.” He affirmed, finally matching your expression, only his smile held a lot more lust than yours. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I’ll tell you something alright, Chris. I think you paint my nails entirely too much.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, moving to pack up the spa kit, before saying “So in other words I’m right.” He rises to his feet, peering down through his long lashes with a knowing grin, before turning to leave the room. But not without saying, “Don’t worry baby, I’ll give you what you need.” Leaving you an anxious mess.

You start squirming in your seat, waiting with anticipation for him to return. You try to sit in your sexiest pose, but it makes you feel awkward. Then you start to wonder if you should remove your underwear. But you know he likes doing that. You even wonder if you smell okay, after such a long day at work. A million thoughts race through your mind, and you barely register his presence when reenters the room. You slightly jump, when you feel his warm hands brush against the nape of your neck.

“Shit baby.” Chris laughs, as he rounds the couch. “I knew it was bad, but I didn’t realize how bad. Let daddy, handle this for you.” He says kneeling back in front of you, knees tucked firmly under his person. He smoothes his hands over the expanse of your soft supple skin, leaving a burning trail of desire in his wake. When he hooks his fingers underneath the waistband of your panties, your breath hitches as the cool air hits your moistened sex. 

You lift your thighs and legs, so he can carefully remove the lace without ruining his handwork on your feet. When Chris surveys your dampened panties and inhales their scent, his grin grows wider. “You’re already this wet for me?” 

He gives you no time to answer as he’s pulling you closer to his face, by your thighs. The sudden movement caused a whimper to escape your throat, soft sound making his cock harden. He’s working his kisses up against your thighs with a quickness, ready to produce more sounds like the last. 

Your head’s position on the couch has you feeling a bit awkward, and you go to say  “This is uncom—” but cut yourself off with a moan, as he dives his thick tongue between your petals, writing love notes against the skin.

“What’s that, doll?” Chris asks, hot breath dangerously close to your bud.

You just mewl in response, wetting his beard with your juices, as he eats you like you’re his last meal. “Right there baby.” You groan, grinding yourself against his mouth when his tongue darts against your nub. 

“Right here?” He questions softly, repeating the same gestures, sending a jolt through your body that makes you buck against his face. 

Your words leave your throat, as he sucks harshly against the problem areas, shocks of pleasure emitting through your person. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, he adds his fingers. First two, but then three as he starts fucking your pussy. 

“D-daddy!” You cry, voice coming out shaky as you writhe against his lips and fingers. His actions have you climbing up the couch. 

Then he removes his lips, warning you to keep quiet. “My babies are upstairs, I’m gonna need you to keep your pretty mouth shut.” He commands, placing your soaked panties between your lips. 

As he quickens the pace of his fingers, and makes his tongue dart from left to right relentlessly against your clit, you approach your first orgasm of the night, and he knows it too, when your hole clenches around his fingers. 

He smiles, and tells you how proud of you he is, but he isn’t done with you yet. 

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Your muffled moans ring through your ears, as you clamp your teeth down around your underwear. Your jaw was becoming slack from keeping it open so long, and you were feeling sore.

Chris was still continuing his assault against your sex. He had long moved from his position on the floor, and now sat beside you on the couch. 

He had your legs sprawled open, keeping them from closing with one hand gripped on your thigh, and the other rubbed fast and hard circles against your clit, while he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

“What number was that one, baby? Five, six? I lost count after the third time, when you squirted on daddy’s chest.” He growled, biting his lip, as he quickened his pace against your nub. “Do you think you can do that again?”

You moaned in protest, shaking your head from left to right, as you approached another orgasm. You couldn’t take anymore pleasure, your sensitive bud was going through too much.

“What’s that baby? I can’t hear you.” He teased, face as serious as it could be. He was testing you. You knew not to remove the underwear, or you’d be there all night. When you made no moves to pull them out, he did it for you, a string of spit connecting your lips to the fabric.

You immediately pleaded with him to ease up. “Daddy I don’t think I-I can take an-nymore.” You cried, now a blubbering mess.

“You don’t think you can take anymore?” Chris repeated, mocking you. “Well that’s too bad. Daddy thinks his princess looks too pretty when she’s cumming. So suck it up, because I’m not stopping until we have to replace this couch.”

You  felt that familiar coil in your stomach again, threatening to snap, as you threw your head back. You were a sweating mess now. You had hair glued to your face, and neck, and your shirt was drenched, as it clung to your stomach. But still, it wasn’t quite as drenched as your pussy, thighs, and couch cushions were. 

Chris was as hard as a rock, but you knew if you touched him, he’d get angry. He wanted to play with you, until you were begging him to stop.

“What happened today at work again baby? What was it Chad said to you? I bet if I have you fucked out like this every night, I’d be the only man on your mind.” He whispered against your ear.

Your stomach began spasming, as you clenched painfully around nothing. This would be your last one too, before your body gave up. 

Tears streamed down your cheek, as you contorted your face into the sexiest expression Chris had ever seen. And then, just before your screams of pleasure could rip through your chest, he covered his mouth over yours, as you squirted all over his hands, your thighs, and stomach. When you finally opened your eyes, you could only see white, before your vision came back into focus.

Massaging the wet, between your folds, Chris bought his fingers up to your lips and said “open.” And you did, sucking all your juices from his digits without breaking eye contact. “Attagirl.” He praised, wiping your tears away. Feel better now?” He asked, small smirk playing on his lips.

You nod tiredly, throat dry from your previous activities.

He brushes your sweaty hair behind your ears before saying, “Good. Now, let’s paint those pretty pink walls white, too.” 

[sweetestlamb]

Make Me Crescendo

Summary: Song-ah ponders if there is truly any space left in Joon Young's life for her. Joon Young shows her exactly where her place is.

Author's Note: I didn't expect to enjoy this show as much as I do honestly, I love the dynamic and chemistry between the leads. Most of the other characters could choke for all I care, but I love Song-ah and Joonie, they are goals and they deserve to just run away and be happy. Anyway, I was inspired so this happened. (Please don't leave comments asking about when I'll write more, I'll do it when I can and when I'm inspired for all of my stories. If you are going to leave a comment, you can tell me what you liked or what I could do better, appreciate that more!) Happy reading, please ignore all my lame music puns! 😂😈 

Music filters through the doors as she watches on her heart thumping erratically, a metronome expelling the staccatos of her fear. The gaggle of female students outside the door white noise in the background, their coos and awes stabbing her paper thin heart that is wavering in her chest.

They sound so good together!

Omg, don't they look perfect?

I think they would be a much better couple!

Taking a step back her violin bangs into the wall suddenly alerting them to her presence, her eyes dart wildly like a cornered animal as they look at her with pity and sneering apologetic eyes as if saying: you brought this on yourself, how could you ever think you could have him?

With a wet gasp, she scurries off avoiding their looks clutching her hands tightly as she bursts through the doors. The cool Spring air whips her hair around her face temporarily blocking her face from onlookers, the moisture on her cheeks causes strands to stick before she pushes them back.

Seeing them play in such perfect harmony has only cemented the doubts that already fill her mind, how can see ever measure how to Jung-kyung? A woman that he has not only loved for years but who also plays her instrument far better than she ever will? If she is meant to be a replacement, she stands no chance; they are worlds apart maybe it's time she accepted that.

I'll cherish our moments today, it was an honor.

She knows what she has to do, her heart whines but she blinks away her tears. He deserves better.

His missed calls and messages taunt her as she peers down despondently at her phone, she hasn't been able to bring herself to sever their bond. Every time she starts to type out a message to set him free, his smile flashes in her mind and she's rendered comatose. Instead flinging the cursed object far away and punishing her fingers as shrill notes screech from her violin.

Avoiding him isn't as simple as she'd hoped with everyone knowing about their ill-fated relationship and constantly inquiring about his whereabouts, it becomes sickening obvious that most "friends" who approach her with their shrieking calls of "unnie" could care less about her and are instead hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

As soon as they realized he was absent and had no plans of suddenly materializing, they bombarded her with excuses of why they needed to take their leave, immediately. She vaguely wondered if they cared at all about how little they made her feel, their treatment further emphasizing how insignificant others viewed her.

She was always disposable to others. She didn't even have a best friend to turn to for advice, someone else who has decided that she simply wasn't worth the trouble of staying and fighting.

Nobody had ever deigned her worthy of fighting for.

With a forlorn sigh, she grips her purse tighter better climbing the stairs to the school entrance. She only has one class to get through today, before she could escape to her room and ruminate on how to inform Joon-young that she couldn't do this anymore.

Arriving a few minutes early to class, she takes her seat closer to her front away from the gossiping girls who had been waving her over. She had no desire to listen to their backhanded comments on her lack of talent or unbelievable relationship, their words only added fuel to the vicious thoughts already cycling in her brain.

Pretending not to hear them beckoning her over, she looks at the professor with more focus than she's currently capable of, turning a blind eye to her surroundings.

Time crawls by like molasses poured from a jar, before the professor dismisses the class causing students to bolt from their seats, she being one of the first. He typically waits for her after this class and she has very little time to flee without him catching her, ignoring the calls of her name once more she takes her leave, violin thumping a dull pain on her back.

Cracking the door open she peeks outside, a sliver of her head breaching the opening, a sigh of relief falling from her lips when she meets a vacant spot. Stepping out further she glances around, but he is nowhere to be seen, the hallways empty besides students trekking to their next classes.

Her chest aches traitorously but she internally berates herself, this is good I don't want to see him, her heart ripples at the lie, refusing to engage in this façade that she's forcing. Clutching at her chest she takes one trembling step, then another before finding her resolve and racing to the door.

So close, almost there, come on.

Hand reaching for the handle, she twists it pushing it open seconds away from freedom.

"Song-ah!" Her skin prickles from his deep baritone, his tone wrapping her in a honeyed cocoon. She hesitates, fingers twitching on the cold smooth metal.

"Song-ah, wait!" The desperation in his voice halts her escape, unable to abandon him when his voice reveals so much about how he's feeling. She loathes the mere concept of being someone who hurts him.

Reinforcing her now wavering resolve she slowly spins around, their eyes meeting in a clash, his own shining brightly as he peers into her soul. Her breath hitches as she watches him step closer to her, suddenly there isn't enough oxygen in the room, her lungs wheeze at the atmospheric change.

His beautiful hands gradually elevate, millimeters from her skin, as he begs for permission with his smoldering dark eyes.

She almost accepts defeat, before Jung-kyung's smug sour face flashes in her mind. Dousing her with icy cold realization, they just aren't meant to be.

She draws away from his searching fingers, stepping just out of his reach.

Hurt blazes across his handsome face, hardening in his eyes.

"Why have you been ignoring my calls and messages?"

He goes straight for the jugular, not pussyfooting around the elephant in the room.

"I've been busy practicing." She responds weakly, recoiling under his hard glint.

He steps forward once more, instinctively she retreats, the demure mouse to his assertive cat.

He sighs, stepping back his shoulder sagging in disappointment.

"What's wrong? Why won't you even let me come close to you? Why are you ignoring me?"

This is the moment, the one she's been yearning and waiting for, the perfect opportunity to put this sham to an end. Her mouth opens and closes as she pushes herself to be courageous for once, do the right thing and put both of them out of their misery.

You look better with her. I don't deserve you. I'm not good enough. Not strong enough. Leave. Leave me.

Please.

But, she can't. Can't get her mouth to say any of those truths. Fear and heartbreak render her immobile and cowardice takes center stage instead, ready for its solo.

"I...I...." He looks at her with warm eyes, pleading with her to finish her sentence, hope settled in the lines of his skin.

"I have to go."

"Song-ah!"

Her breath doesn't return until she's shaking on her seat at the bus stop. He hadn't chased her. Maybe he had just learned that she wasn't worthy the trouble.

Her days lapse by as she moves through life resembling a zombie, obsessively looking at her phone only to feel her heart fracture each time no notifications await her hungry eyes.

She goes to class as normal, no longer having to avoid her classmates as they have moved on to something more entertaining than her relationship. Their piteous looks make her skin crawl, her fight with Joon-young the talk of the town. Now they can freely gossip about her and how they knew it would never last, the pure glee on their faces is grotesque.

She sees him in passing in the hallway but he keeps his distance, never maintaining eye contact for too long. She's getting exactly what she wanted. Yet she feels sick to her stomach, her skin clammy and cool.

The irony isn't lost on her, how appropriate that this would be the one thing she's able to do successfully. Ruin her own life and sabotage her own happiness.

There are nights when her control falters and she stares at the illuminated screen of her phone, writing a message only to erase it with a sigh before crashing into her mattress. Her limps are heavy and uncoordinated as she flails upon the surface.

"Why does this have to be so hard?" Her question goes unanswered in the stillness of the night, as she ultimately falls into a fitful slumber.

Finally pulling herself together after days of quiet anguish, she goes back to her mission to find an accompanist.

She closes her phone as she says her final good byes to the team leader, thanking her for allowing her to use the rehearsal room in the Kyungoo building.

The winds blows the wispy ends of her skirt, dragging the material across the smooth skin of her knee. Subconsciously she tugs at the material, its a bit shorter than her usual ensemble she'd ordered it online not expecting it to hit inches above her knee. It seemed longer in the photos. 

A voice shouting her name drags her from her self-conscious inklings, as she spins around to see her potential accompanist.

A welcoming smile tugs her lips up, dimples sinking into her skin with familiarity.

Raising her hand in a small wave, bowing while calling out, "Hello! Nice to meet you, I'm Chae Song-ah, chae not choi, like the vegetable." Explaining before the inevitable questioning and confusion can sour their interaction with awkwardness. 

The sheepish grin informs her that she did the right thing, a hand is extended into her space and she grasps it in her own.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Park Min-jae." His warm smiles immediately puts her at ease. Together they enter the building amicable conversation flowing easily.

Hours pass as the music ricochets around the room, her bow light in her hands as she drags it across the strings, flabbergasted as harmonious sounds permeate the air. His fingers move in a flurry across black and white keys, shoulders bouncing in rhythmically as the song nears it end. Their last notes swirling around each other in a perfect crescendo.

"Wow, that was fun! You did great!" He breaks the silence, and his words leave her breathless.

She's been prepared for insults and sharpened words, his praise disorient her.

His wide grin leaves little room for argument so she merely nods, not quite believing him.

He starts to gather his belongings before turning to her, "I have to head out but I mean it, I think we sounded pretty good together. What do you think? Was I good enough for you?"

His innocent question plummets her into a sea of memories, his face at the forefront of her thoughts.

Shaking herself free she quietly replies, "Yes, it was good. You were good."

He lifts an eyebrow but says nothing else at her words.

"Okay, I'm free this weekend. Give me a call if you want to practice some more."

She nods finally collecting her own belongings, then turning off the lights and exiting the room.

The air is charged as the walk side by side and it's doesn't make sense until she turns the corner. Park Min-jae's excited voice never falters as she stands still, eyes locked on the new arrival.

Joon-young stands before her, eyes scouring her face before darting to the unknown man standing beside her. She watches his Adam's apple bob distractedly, as his eyes darken minutely.

"And I think we should..." Park Min-jae's voice peters off as he notices her unmoving figure before noticing that there is someone new. 

All three of them stand there wordlessly before park Min-jae cracks the uncomfortable silence.

"Hi, I'm Park Min-jae. A friend of Song-ah, nice to meet you." The and you are? lingers in the air.

Her brain stutters at the possibilities and she rushes to provide an answer.

"Oh! This is Joon-young, he's just a fri-"

"Her boyfriend." He extends a hand but his eyes never leave her face, she feels as if she's being challenged and she doesn't know how to respond.

"Nice to meet you! I didn't know you had a boyfriend, you should have let me know before flashing those pretty dimples at me." Park Min-jae's teasing smile unsettles her causing her to shift under his gaze, unbeknownst to her Joon-young's grip tightens ever so slightly in their handshake.

Suddenly her potential accompanist winces and jumps, apologetic look on his face before he retracts his hand to put them up in acquiesce.

"Sorry."

Joon-young looks at him, the seconds dragging before he nods looking away from again. Eyes for her only.

"Um..so I'll talk to you later? It was nice to meet you." Park Min-jae bows once more, glancing between them both before shaking his head and all but running away.

She feels pinned under his look and rubs her own arm simply to have something else to focus on. Feigning distraction, she looks at the ground; heart clattering frantically at his sudden appearance.

Mumbling under her breathe she finally speaks, "What are you doing here?"

She's completely unprepared for his hands to slide into hers with ease, her fingers curling around his before her brain can register what is occurring.

"Come with me." The please is unsaid but loud as a high C and she nods, helplessly following his lead as he drags her back into the rehearsal room.

The click of the door closing is harsh in the quiet of the room, as he stops in the center of the room. Large hand still wrapped around her own, his warmth drift into her brittle bones.

"Who was that?"

Glancing up at him from under dark lashes she swallows, "Park Min-jae, a pianist. I wanted to see if we could play together. My teacher recommended him."

Humming in response he stares her dead in her eyes, it takes every fiber of her being to maintain the contact.

"Why were you going to tell him I was just a friend?"

Sputtering, she chokes on nothing pulling her hand away to cover her mouth as small coughs escape.

Concern flashes on his face before it's driven away with anger.

She quivers under his hard stare, "I thought....I didn't know...we haven't spoken in days."

Pressing forward he invades her space, jaw tight.

"Do you think it's that easy?"

Mouth falling open in a perfect o, she looks at him in confusion. Lost at his meaning and wondering what is going through his mind, it's difficult to read his body language.

"What?"

"Do you think our relationship is that... trivial? Do you think a few days without conversing is all it takes to end it?"

Anger and hurt color the words as they fall from his lips and land like daggers in her stomach.

But he's not finished, not by a long shot.

"You can't just push me away and replace me with someone else!"

His cry echoes around the room and she stands in shock, contemplating picking her jaw up off the ground. When he says nothing more, simply pushes out harsh breaths and squeezes his fists by his side she finds her voice.

"What are you talking about? I'm not doing...that."

"Then what are you doing? You don't answer my calls or call me for days and now you're here with someone else, who flirts with you right in my face." She collapses guiltily. "How can you not have time for me? I'm your boyfriend, why can't you make space for me?"

Is there any room for me?

Like a wave, all her emotions and pain and insecurities and fears come surging out, his question the blow that broke the dam.

"You're the one who has no space for me. I saw you two that day, you looked like you fit. Two musical prodigies, it made sense. More sense than you and I. I can't do it, I can't pretend that I don't see everyone looking at us. Nobody understands why you'd want me. You should be with someone like her, she's from a good family and she plays the violin better than I'll ever--"

His hands latch onto her shaking shoulders, pushing her backwards until her violin collides with a click into the piano.

She whimpers as he gazes down at her, frustration streaming off him in waves.

"You don't understand how I could want you? I'll explain it, in detail. Listen closely because I don’t want to ever need to this again"

She gulps.

He swaggers closer, arms reaching over her shoulders to rest on the smooth surface of the piano. Brushing against her shoulder before gently gripping the straps of her violin, he removes them before placing the instrument carefully on the ground. Taking the weight from her shoulders.

His warm breath caresses her skin before he cups her face, hands tender on her hot cheeks. Air catches in her throat as she shyly looks up at him.

Almost instantly he smiles in return, dimples greeting her as his smile warms her to her core.

"I like how you make me smile, whenever I see you my heart feels at ease and I feel like everything will be okay. I like how you smile at me, you look prettiest when smiling at me."

Her cheeks flush from his compliments and she turns away embarrassed only to feel his sure fingers on the point of her chin, dragging her back into the penetrating line of his eyes; refusing to let her push him away again.

"I like how hard you work to be better, I like how you never stoop to others level you're kind to everyone despite how they treat you. I like your dimples, I always want to touch then. I like how you listen to me and want to hear about my life. I like that you don't treat me like I'm breakable and you tell me when you don't like something."

Then the air crackles as his hands smooth down her skin before settling on her neck, tugging her closer, she reaches out to grab his waist for balance.

"I like kissing you, I like how your lips feel on mine. I like how you open up for me. I like the little sounds you make."

Like a manifestation, a small shocked gasps tumbles from her lips and his eyes meander down to look at them in response. His own cheeks are scorching, red and flushed too but he doesn't seem like he has any intentions of stopping. Fearlessly pushing past his comfort zones.

Pulling her against his body now, his fingers twisted in the dark material of his button down shirt, he gazes at her adoration pouring from his eyes.

"I like you Song-ah. I like you so much. I don't want anyone else, there's space for you. In my heart there's so much space just for you."

He brushes her hair out of her face, his face open and vulnerable.

"Do you want it?"

Do you want me?

She looks at him as he awaits her answer and wonders what she ever did to deserve this? It seems too good to be true, she has never won anything in her life coming in last at everything that has counted. So how can this be true, how can she possibly deserve something has precious and valuable as his heart?

Smiling in defeat she nods at him, "I want you."

His joy is contagious as he grabs her, strong arms wrapping her in a warm embrace. She returns the hug, face smashed into the soft cotton of his shirt.

Slowly they draw away from each other, smiles not fading and then she catches his incessant gaze on her lips.

"Can I?"

Blushing she bites her lip nervously, tingling under his close appraisal. At the merest nod of her head he's on her, his lips crashing into her own as his hands tighten on their new location on her hips.

Tilting onto the tips of her toes she presses back, moaning as his tongue teases the seams of her closed mouth, her arms reaching up to wrap around his neck.

His taste explodes on her buds as his slick muscle swipes around her moist cavern, he delicately sucks on her tongue enticing her to join him in his explorations. She trips as she attempts to press even closer to him, breaking their deep embrace.

Embarrassed at her lack of grace and coordination she opens her mouth, apology on the tip of her tongue. Before his next move steals her breath.

Easy as pie, he grips tightens on her waist as he hoists her up until she's sitting on the edge of the grand piano.

Her blush is now painful as it rages on her exhausted cheeks.

He smiles at her, disarming her before he steps forward her new position bringing their lips in perfect proximity.

"You looks pretty when you blush too." He teases and she slaps his chest in reprimand but he catches the appendages, trapping them between their body as he descends on her mouth again.

Kisses deeper and slower this time, largo as their tongues roll and plunder. His hands stroke her hair, his fingers traipsing across the soft skin of neck. He suddenly grabs her hips dragging her across the smooth surface until their groins collide and she gasps loudly at the hardness that jabs into her.

They both bolt back, frenzied eyes meeting as they take in this moment.

She's never gone this far before, never even kissed anyone. He is the owner of so many of her first, it's terrifying.

Looking down she sees his straining erection, a long line tenting the satin smoothness of his dress paints. Blushing she forces her eyes from the tempting sight, to look at his face. Momentarily frozen under his look, first time seeing them set ablaze with desire. All for her. 

"Are you okay?" His voice rumbles making her skin pebble with anticipation.

Is she okay? She can't quite answer such a big question, her head spinning from everything that has happened. She feels like her skin is going to burst apart and he's the only thing keeping her together, both her destruction and her resurrection.

Wrapping her legs around his waist she boldly yanks him back into her orbit, kissing the question off his mouth. He stills for a moment before responding, devouring her mouth as she opens up for him, slick noises loud to her ears.

Her lips are raw and tender as they kiss making up for all their time apart, then she feels her world tilting as he presses her back onto the piano, lips still swallowing her own until her back meets the cool material and their lips disengage.

He looks at her, her body spread across the instrument like an offering. She feels naked under his gaze.

Then his eyes shift to her skirt, high on her thigh from her sprawled position and she starts to sit up but he's faster to react, catching the edge of her skirt and fingering the material that trails across her thigh.

After thick moments of silence, he gazes up at her slowly drawing her skirt up her thighs, the cool air rushes across her hot skin and she gasps and squirms under his steady hands.

He stops at her movement glancing at her, she bites her lip, opening her legs ever so slightly and that's all the answer that he needs. Tugging the material slowly, slowly, adagio up her skin pushing it over her hips and his groan causes wetness to pool between her legs, she looks away in shame.

He fingers at her stark white panties, she jumps at his first touch on the skin above her undergarment. Peering down to watch his eyes locked on her in awe, his long fingers running across her skin before he stops to tug at the cute little bow on the top of her underwear.

Eyes never leaving hers, he drags the thin material down pausing to give her a chance to stop him, one word from her and this will all come to an end she has no doubts.

Tacet.

He pulls the material down, down before dragging it off her feet and folding it neatly in a square before placing it on a chair to the side.

"Beautiful."

His eyes are smoldering on her skin as she eagerly awaiting his next move, equal parts excitement and anxiety.

Clutching her eyes shut she grips futilely for purchase, before he knocks the breath from her lungs with his first slow drag on her opening, his tongue swiping through the moisture dripping from her. A gasp is punched from her chest, as he licks at her again, deeper the second time almost slurping at her and she cries out from the foreign sensation, pleasure ravaging her body.

"Ah! Joon-young ah!"

He surges at her cry and subsequent proclamation of his name, nimble fingers soon joining his tongue and pushing knuckle deep into her wet bud playing her as expertly as his beloved piano, her whines and whimpers serving as music to his ears.

Using two fingers he pries her lips open, exposing her further to his hungry eyes and mouth. His tongue stiffen into a point he jabs into her drenched hole, collecting her sweet nectar as he swipes across her walls.

She pants loudly, grabbing his hair in warning as she feels a ball tightening in the pits of her stomach, another first as he thrusts into her over and over, her skin puckering up in anticipation.

"Please, I, I...."

As her body nears its crescendo, release blinding her as pleasure flashes blinding white, suddenly he pulls away, she whines from the emptiness crying out for him.

When she opens her eyes in a weak glare, she finds him bent over the piano his bangs sweaty as they stick to his forehead. Gathering herself she sits up, eyes widening in surprise and arousal when she sees his erection jutting from his own fly and his fist wrapped around the rigid ruddy flesh.

He'd been touching himself while tasting her. That had been enough to hurl him dangerously close to the edge. Something like pride bubbles in her chest.

Clamoring off the piano, her heels clicks when she lands on the floor and that catches his attention.

He looks up at her with dazed eyes, looking younger with his bangs skewed and messy, his lips shiny with her condensation.

Taking the lead she grasps his hands tugging him until he snaps out of his stupor, within two steps they reach the piano bench and he looks at it and then her, puzzled before she gently presses his shoulders and seats him on the bench.

It's his turn to gasp as she climbs into his lap, her face scarlet red as his erection brushes against her sacred flower.

"Are you sure?" He asks, using every last bit of control to keep his hips still even as his body aches to plunge into her wet hole, mere inches away the heat wafting off all too tempting.

"Yes." She watches as he grips himself by the base, rubbing the head through her juices and her head falls back from the sensation and then his tip is at her entrance and she holds her breath.

He reaches up to hold her face, forcing her to meet his eye, "Breathe." He commands and as she inhales he slides into her, breaching her tight opening with one long smooth thrust upwards.

Her arms tighten around the wide stretch of his shoulders as gravity drags her further down his impressive length, pain and pleasure warring for dominance.

"Just a minute." She pleads and instantly he stops, rubbing soothing circles on her back as she loosens around him. When she can breathe again, she lifts herself up before sliding back down pleasure knocking pain back on its ass.

Immediately she needs more, lifting up again before slamming down onto his hard cock, wet sounds echoing off the walls and at first he is motionless, simply letting himself be used by her. But then he grips her tight cheeks, using them as leverage as he plants his feet and viciously pistons into her, her shriek deafening in this room made for acoustics.

They crash into each other, as they chase their release, his fingers easily unbuttoning her shirt and pushing it off her skin before catching her pebbled nipples through the thin lace of her bra. Her soft breasts jiggle as she bounces in his lap, his hard length driving into her, over and over and over.

At a particularly brutal thrust of his hips, she loses her precarious balance and falls back, instantly he grips her waist slowing her descent and lessening the blow, her back crashes into the piano keys and jarring dissonance filling the air.

They both glance at each other before smiling, recalling their last mishap with the piano after their first kiss.

Her sprawled position on the piano opens her wider and without pause he thrusts up into her again, tugging her back to meet his movement.

Light flashes behind her eyelids as he fucks into her, the piano crying out underneath their onslaught. She's too close to care and his frenzied thrusts make it clear he's not far behind.

He pries her eyes open once more, before kissing her. The gentle press of his lips in complete opposition to the hard hits of his hips. 

"Please, come." He whispers, begging her and simultaneously informing her of his plans.

She feels every molecule in her body burst apart as she vibrates on the piano, walls tightening around his length as he struggles to thrust through the vicelike grip she has on him before a hot stream fills her up, sticky and leaking, and he melts under her his head falling onto her belly.

It feels..... weird. Not nearly as sexy as it's depicted in videos. But a piece of her is giddy to be so full of him, her blush permanently stained on her cheek at this point.

Gently he drags himself out of her, she shudders as she feels his release leaking out without him there to keep it in. When she glances down pearly white substance is smeared across the keys of the piano.

She immediately feels filthy, complete disbelief at what exactly they'd done and where they'd done it. She covers her face in shame.

Something brushes against her sensitive skin and her eyes pop openly only to shriek as she watches in horror as Joon-young, cleans up the mess between her legs and the piano keys with a handkerchief.

Her handkerchief to be exact.

Grinning bashfully at her he shrugs, shoulders now light as his hair flops on his face.

"I'll wash it later."

Too embarrassed to answer she merely stands up, small smile tugging at her lips as she picks up her neatly folder panty before stepping back into it.

"Do you see now?" Do you see how much I want you? How much space there is, just for you?"

She's fighting losing battle. The irony isn't lost on her, the one time she loses it's the best thing that's ever happened to her.

In the hallway Jung-kyung pounds her fist into the wall, arriving minutes ago to practice with Joon-young for her recital only to hear the loud crashes of a piano keys. She'd been worried about him, was he angry because she was late? Missing her terribly?

She'd rushed to open the door only to stop frozen as she heard moans following the clash of the piano, soft feminine moans followed by a voice she knew all too well. Jealous and rage consumed her at the thought of that...nobody touching her Joon-young.

Taking as deep breath she turns around walking away, she will not give up on him but staying right now is impossible she can't bear the thought of seeing him glowing from being with someone else. This was probably how he felt watching her all these years.

She will be patient and wait for him.

They are destined and his time with Song-ah is fleeting, she knows he wants her. There isn't space for anyone else.

[andtails]

A Prelude to Chaos Control - Chapter 9: Loss of Me

Click here to start from the beginning. You can also read this story on FanFiction.Net or Archive of Our Own.

*****

Sonic stared aimlessly at the ceiling fan above. He was unable to sleep, playing back the words he spoke to Knuckles as he tossed and turned in his sleeping bag.

“I don’t know if I could live with myself if somethin’ ever happened to him. Waiting for Tails to wake up in the hospital was bad enough...”

“Yeah Tails is young, but look at all he’s accomplished over the years. And besides, who am I to tell ‘im what he can and can’t do? I’d rather have him fight by my side than go off on his own or feel bad for himself at home.”

“Tails…” Sonic sighed as he pulled his arm closer to his face, staring into his wristwatch communicator.

“Five in the mornin’, huh?” Sonic’s eyes were heavy as he gently cleared his throat, careful not to wake the others in the living room. Turning over, he saw Knuckles fast asleep, snoring gently under his covers.

Stretching his body out on the floor, the blue hedgehog pulled himself out of the sleeping bag and crept over to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of tap water.

“Ahhh…now that hits the spot.”

Sonic set his glass on the counter as he returned to the living room, stopping as he noticed the unoccupied sofa. The young kitsune was nowhere to be found.

“Hmmm…” Sonic picked up the blanket pushed against the end of the couch. “Whereja go, little buddy?” Setting it down, he scanned the dark living room before starting his search. After finding nobody in the restroom, he crept over to the bedroom, pushing the door slightly open as he peered through the small opening to see the two girls sleeping on their respective sides of the bed. Amy’s arm was hanging down from her side of the mattress, her hand gripping the Piko Piko Hammer leaning against the bedside table.

Chuckling lightly, the blue hedgehog gently shut the door.

“Well, where could he be?” He scratched his head as he listened to the sound of rain pouring over the small cabin.

“He couldn’t possibly be…”

The blue hedgehog tip-toed to the window, looking out at the shrine in the distance to reveal the orange kitsune studying the Master Emerald, an open canopy tent with small flood lights covering the mystical gem and the top level of the shrine.

“Isn’t it a bit early to be doin’ science stuff?” Scratching his forehead and rubbing his eyes, the hedgehog walked through the kitchen, grabbing his blue umbrella as he left the cabin.

I hope he’s doin’ okay…

*****

Making his way up the stone steps of the shrine, the hedgehog heard an angry yell near the top as a small object launched over the stairs, several yards above Sonic’s head. Acting upon instinct, the blue hedgehog leapt into action, jumping upward to catch the device with a gloved hand, his umbrella still gripped by the other.

“Gotcha!” Sonic landed near the base of the stairs, the umbrella panel bending inside out during the descent, rendering the mangled contraption all but useless to the now-wet hedgehog.

Sonic brought the thrown object closer to his face, the circular radar cool to the touch. Gripping the detector, he slowly made his ascent up the slippery stone steps.

All right Sonic…just play it cool. I’ll ask him what’s wrong, but I won’t pester him.

Sighing anxiously, the blue hedgehog took the final few steps up the shrine as he noticed the orange kitsune staring off into the distance facing away from the stairs, his arms leaning on the foldable table under the canopy tent.

“…Heya Tails.” The young fox turned around to find the soaked hedgehog and his decimated umbrella, the detector in the palm of his hands. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Ohh...something like that.” The orange fox scratched the back of his head. Sonic stepped closer to him, setting the device on the table.

“Ya dropped somethin’.” He pushed it closer to Miles, who gave the device a cold stare. “Mind tellin’ me what’s wrong?”

Tails sighed. “It’s just that the readings I’m getting from the Master Emerald are wildly inconsistent with the data from my prior tests, and I’m not sure what’s causing the discrepancy. Without determining the causal connection between the energy fluctuations, I won’t be able to develop adequate programming code.”

Sonic scratched his head. “Mind dumbin’ that down a bit?”

“In other words,” Tails replied, walking over to the Master Emerald, “I’m no closer to completing the detector than I was before.” He placed a palm against the mystical gem, staring at it with blank eyes.

“Hey lil’ bro,” Sonic walked over to the young kitsune, placing a hand on his shoulder, “I’m sure you can get it workin’ eventually.”

Tails turned around as he looked up at the blue hedgehog, moisture forming in his eyes.

“…but…do you?”

“Huh?” Sonic peered into the distressed fox’s eyes, his downcast face eyeing the stone floor. “I don’t understand.”

“…I heard what you said, Sonic…when I was in the shower.” The orange kitsune balled his hands into tight fists as his arms began to shake. The blue hedgehog was frozen solid, unsure how to respond as the two stood in silence.

Tails gulped. “…Why do you keep me around?” A frown covered his face, his eyes unblinking.

“What d’ya mean?” Sonic slowly approached the young kitsune. “We’re best buds, brothers ‘n all but blood. There’s nothin’ keepin’ us apart!”

“Is that what you tell yourself to justify babysitting me all the time?” Tails furrowed his brow as he looked into the blue hedgehog’s confused face.

“Babysittin’? Who said anythin’ abou—”

“You did!” Tails voice grew angry, a small vein appearing near the top of his head. “You just keep me around so I don’t run off and do something stupid!”

“What?” Sonic stepped back, watching his normally docile, kindhearted little brother succumb to rage. “Now wait just a min—”

“Why, so you can tell me things will be alright when they aren’t? Tell me how useful I am when I mess up all the time? Guilt yourself into babysitting me when you should be fighting Eggman without distractions? Lie to give me a sense of purpose and belonging when I…” Tails sniffled as he wiped the tears from his eyes. “…when I just…don’t belong?”

“But…” Sonic was dumbstruck at Tails’ seemingly never-ending rant, bottled up emotions finally boiling over. “But I…don’t think those things…”

“Why? Any rational person would believe this. Or are you just playing dumb? Acting like the dumb, lovable hero as per usual?” The young kitsune walked in circles and waved his arms as he spoke, missing the pain in Sonic’s face.

“It isn’t true, tho—" Sonic began, only to be cut off once more.

“I’m done, Sonic!” Tails approached the table, grabbing the Chaos Emerald detector. “I’m done…”

“Tails…” Sonic stepped closer to the young kitsune, whose eyes shot up to meet his, the fox’s hand gripping the detector so tightly the glass casing began to crack.

“I said…” The fox raised his hand up in the air, his arm stretched back as far as it could go, the device still held between his fingers as he bent his knees. “I’M…DONE!” Tails swung his arm forward, letting go of the device.

The detector came hurling at Sonic’s face, the blue hedgehog too dumbstruck to dodge. Striking him across his cheek, the device fell to the stone surface below, shattering into small pieces.

Tails kept his throwing arm forward as he breathed heavily, anger still in his eyes. Sonic, meanwhile, was as still as a rock, a red bruise forming on the side of his muzzle, the blue hedgehog ignoring the physical pain, lost in his emotional turmoil.

After what felt like an eternity, Sonic took a knee, placing a gloved hand against his bruise, closing his eyes as his head pointed downward.

Reason slowly returned to Tails as he doused the flames in his eyes, his anger now replaced with an overwhelming feeling of sorrow and dread.

Did I…just hurt…?

“…Sonic?” Tails’ arms dropped to either side as he slowly approached the blue hedgehog, fumbling his steps as if a zombie walking through a deserted cityscape. Looking down at his older brother, he could see a small teardrop forming between his closed eyelids, an unmoving frown on his face. Tails looked at his palms, tears of his own welling up in his eyes as he tried to comprehend how his hands could have carried out such a deed.

“W…what have I done?” The orange kitsune turned around, no longer able to bear the sight of his injured brother.

“I don’t deserve…to be your sidekick anymore.”

Wiping his nose with his arm, he approached the stone steps as he began spinning his rotary namesakes, preparing to leave the injured blue hedgehog behind. As his feet left the ground, however, a gloved hand grabbed his arm, holding him in place a foot above the stone surface.

Tails looked back to find Sonic, a frown on his face as he kept his other hand against his cheek.

“No Tails…” Sonic stared intently into the kitsune’s eyes. “Please…don’t go.” His voice cracked as he made this plea, the orange fox slowly planting his feet back on the surface as his namesakes stopped spinning. Opening his eyes, Sonic approached the kitsune for a hug, an embrace which Miles didn’t reciprocate, too stunned to react.

“I’m…so sorry, Tails…” The young fox could feel the blue hedgehog’s tears rolling down his back as he struggled to comprehend.

“But…why, Sonic?” His fists balled up once more as the blue hedgehog broke down against him. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who lost it just now.”

“Don’t you see, Tails?” Sonic sniffled through his shaky voice, keeping Tails in his embrace. “I’m putting all this pressure on you. I’m responsible.” The blue hedgehog gently pulled himself away, the young fox witnessing, with his own eyes, the rare sight of the world-renowned hero as an emotional wreck, black rings around his bloodshot eyes. The blue hedgehog turned away as more tears dripped down his muzzle.

“I don’t understand…” Tails looked away as well, holding one arm with the other. “Why…don’t you hate me?” The blue hedgehog stepped over to the Master Emerald, allowing himself to lean against the mystical gem. He pushed himself backward as he slipped to the ground, staring at his muddy shoes once he reached the floor.

“All this time, I’ve been encouragin’ ya to finish the detector. I never stopped to think how much pressure you were puttin’ on yourself.” He looked up at the orange fox once more. “And at Seaside City, I told you to stay out of the fight, not considerin’ your feelings.” He looked away, closing his eyes as a new bout of tears began to form beneath his eyelids. “And then you heard me talkin’ behind your back…sorry ya heard that.”

Tails approached the blue hedgehog, stepping around what remained of the destroyed Chaos Emerald detector, various pieces scattered across the stone ground.  

“No…I don’t hate you, Tails. I could never hate you…” Sonic’s eyelids closed as he shivered, pulling his knees up to his chest.

“Sonic...” The young fox watched as the blue hedgehog placed his face into his knees, his arms wrapped around them.

“Maybe I can treat it?” On his knees, Tails crawled over and carefully analyzed the side of his face. “Let me know if this hurts…” The orange kitsune gently poked the bruise with a gloved finger. Sonic winced, closing the eye closest to the welt as Tails turned to face the cabin. “I’ll go get some ice.” As the fox stood up, though, the hedgehog gently grabbed his namesakes.

“No, Tails…please…jus’ stay with me.” The hedgehog softly pulled the unsuspecting fox backward, Tails falling into Sonic’s lap, his fur still wet from the rain. The young kitsune allowed his heartrate to rest, taking a deep breath as his own fur began to moisten at the blue hedgehog’s touch.

“I’ll stay for as long as you need.”

The two sat quietly for a while. Only the sound of their breathing and the steady flow of rainwater falling over the tent could be heard. The duo watched as the clouds dissipated, and the morning sun began to peek over the horizon. Sonic stopped shivering as the close presence of his little brother provided a sense of tranquility.

After several minutes of mindlessly gazing at the view, the blue hedgehog broke the silence, gently speaking into Tails’ ear.

“Sometimes in life…we win…and we lose. It’s okay to lose from time to time.” Sonic chuckled to himself. “Funny how that’s comin’ from me, huh?”

“Yeah, a little.” Tails looked up at the blue hedgehog, his face no longer weary or stressed. In fact, if not for the bruise on his cheek, the slight puffiness of his eyes, and the dampness of his fur, he would have looked perfectly normal.

“If you can’t get the detector workin’, we’ll find another way to beat Eggman…we always do.” Sonic chuckled to himself once more. “And I want you there with me…not to be in the way, but to defeat Eggman together…like always.”

“…Like always?” Tails looked over at Sonic. “But what about when he kidnapped me and forced you to go Super Sonic? I was the reason we lost the Chaos Emeralds in the first place.”

“No, Tails.” Sonic placed his hands behind his head, gazing into the dimly lit horizon. “That was my call to make. I coulda saved ya without the Chaos Emeralds…I just…” The blue hedgehog’s voice cracked as he collected his thoughts. “…I just…didn’t wanna lose you...” Running a hand through his quills before returning it behind his head, he lightly chuckled. “So, really, I’m to blame here.”

“Sonic…” The blue hedgehog could hear his younger brother sniffling below, a fresh set of tears forming in the orange kitsune’s eyes.

“Hey little bro…” Sonic rustled Tails’ hair. “No need to cry…” As he said this, though, his voice cracked once more as a few small tears escaped his own eyes, falling over the young fox’s head. Feeling the tears splash near his sensitive ears, Tails turned to face his older brother once more.

“…Same for you…big brother…” The two gently laughed as the orange fox settled in, wrapping his namesakes around himself, using the blue hedgehog’s chest for both physical and emotional support.

“…Hey Sonic?”

“Yeah?”

Tails closed his eyes.

“I promise to never hit you again. I’d rather die than cause you pain.”

“…I know, little buddy.”  

As the sun peeked over the horizon, the two brothers slept peacefully against the Master Emerald, the rays drying their fur and tears as they forgot about their worries.

*****

The rising sun warmed the green hills, silent forest, and azure lake surrounding a secluded, peaceful cottage, the rays slowly evaporating the water from last night’s thunderstorm. This didn’t stop Cream the Rabbit and Cheese the Chao from performing their daily ritual of morning tea at the backyard picnic table, though, even if the young bunny had to dry the table to ensure she didn’t get wet.

Sporting an orange dress and a blue neck bow, Cream poured nothing out of her toy tea kettle, her gloved hand firmly clasping the pot as she meticulously filled the two teacups without spilling.

“Here you go, Cheese!” Cream pushed the tiny teacup to the blue chao sitting on the table next to her.

“Chao, chao!” Inseparable from the young bunny, Cheese had yellow, stubby hands and feet, a small yellow sphere floating over his dumpling-shaped head, small purple wings, and a red bowtie. Playing along, the chao picked up his cup with both hands, lacking the fingers necessary to use the handle as he poured the make-believe substance down his throat. Setting the cup down between his lap, he smiled at the young rabbit.

Taking a sip of her own, Cream looked up at the blue sky, breathing in the fresh, crisp air, a hint of moisture still present from the storm.

“Sure is a lovely day, isn’t it, Cheese?” The blue chao nodded approvingly, taking another sip as they studied the cloudless sky.

The young bunny turned around as she heard the sound of her mother’s footsteps against the wood porch connecting the cottage to the backyard.

“Good morning, Cream,” Vanilla said, gently waiving at her daughter from the topmost stair of the patio. Like Cream, Vanilla sported long, flappy ears and brown eyes, but unlike the younger bunny, she had a tuft of brown hair between her ears. She wore a purple dress below a burgundy vest, a blue neck bow and white gloves completing her outfit. “Breakfast is almost ready.”

“Okay, momma.” Cream smiled back at her mother as the elder rabbit stepped through the sliding glass door leading to the kitchen.

“We should finish our tea, Cheese.” Cream tipped her cup toward her lips as she drained the last of the invisible substance. Leaving the tea set on the picnic table, the bunny climbed up the patio and entered the cottage, Cheese flying beside her.

The young bunny took her seat at the kitchen table, eyeing the large stack of chocolate chip pancakes waiting for her. The bunny grabbed a bottle of maple syrup and generously poured it over her breakfast, the sugary liquid covering nearly the entire top cake as the substance ran down the sides.

Taking a swig of freshly squeezed orange juice, Cream grabbed her utensils and began eating while maintaining proper breakfast table etiquette, just as her mother taught her. Sitting next to his owner on the table, Cheese nibbled at shreds of coconut in his bowl, smiling happily as the inseparable duo enjoyed their breakfast.

Vanilla sat at the opposite side of the table, taking a sip of coffee. “After we clean up, I need to run some errands. Don’t stray too far from the house, okay?”

“All right, momma.” She gave Vanilla a brief smile before returning to her breakfast, eating a banana before returning to her stack of pancakes.

“And if you encounter any danger, remember what Sonic taught you.” Vanilla was referring to the periodic combat training Cream received from the blue hedgehog, who taught her how to implement a spin attack, where she could roll into a ball and deal damage to opponents or travel downhill at great speed.

Vanilla took another sip of her hot beverage as her daughter nodded in agreement, placing the last forkful of syrupy pancakes into her mouth.

As Cream finished off her juice, she gathered her dishes and placed them in the sink, brimming with hot, soapy water. Looking back at the breakfast table, Cream watched as Cheese attempted to lift his own empty bowl, flapping his wings as he struggled to carry the dish with his stubby arms.

“I can get it for you, Cheese.” Cream picked up the bowl and placed it in the sink.

“Chao, chao!” Cheese smiled approvingly as he flew around the kitchen. Meanwhile, Cream helped her mother wipe down the kitchen surfaces, making the room as spotless as it was before breakfast.

“All right Cream, I’m off to the store. I’ll only be gone a short while.” She bent her knees, allowing her daughter to give her a hug.

“Bye bye, momma.” Pulling herself from the embrace, Cream smiled as she watched her mother leave the cottage, walking down the dirt path leading to the nearby small town where she purchased her daily groceries.

“Wanna go play outside again, Cheese?” Cream looked up at the chao hovering in midair. He gave her a nod of approval as the two headed to the backyard.

“What should we do first, Cheese?” Cream looked up at her energetic chao, who, after a few seconds of twirling around, hovered in front of the small bunny, shrugging his shoulders.

“Hmmm…” Cream placed a gloved hand to her chin. “I know! How about we g—” Her thought was interrupted by the sound of a scurrying squirrel running down the side of the tree near the corner of the yard.

“Wonder what spooked the squirrel?” Cream approached the tree as Cheese followed close behind, a worried look on his face.

“No need to be afraid, Cheese.” Cream raised her arms toward the chao, holding Cheese to her chest as the determined rabbit investigated the cause of the squirrel’s fright. She peered up at the tall tree, green leaves covering its thick branches as small drops of water from last night’s storm occasionally dripped to the ground below.

“I don’t see anything. Maybe the squirrel got scared of nothing?” Shrugging her shoulders, the bunny turned around, preparing to plan her next activity with her chao when she caught a glimmering object in the corner of her eye.

“Hmmm?” She faced the tree once more and looked up, noticing a shining object wedged between the branches near the top of the tree.

“All right Cheese, I’m gonna need to set you down for a second.” The bunny placed the chao on the grass a few feet away from the tree before running her gloved hands along her long ears. She firmly planted her feet to the ground, bending her knees slightly as she prepared to retrieve the shining object. Finally, she leapt upward, floating in the air by flapped her ears. Looking up, Cream flapped with greater intensity, lifting herself higher as she approached the top of the tree.

The rabbit placed her feet on a branch directly below the shiny item, holding onto the upper branches with her hands to keep herself balanced. Tiptoeing along, she slowly approached the central trunk, pressing her body against the bark as she prepared to grab the object directly above. Raising a single hand in the air, Cream snagged the item, pulling it down to eye level.

“Wait…this is…a Chaos Emer—” Before she could finish her thought, she felt the branch directly below her beginning to crack under her weight.

“Uh oh.”

With gem in hand, she maneuvered herself as fast as she could to the tip of the branch, jumping as the large twig fell to the ground below. Using her ears, Cream slowed her own descent as she hovered down to the patch of grass where she left Cheese, the chao sighing in relief as his creased, worried face gave way to a bright smile.

“It’s okay, Cheese.” She smiled at the chao, rubbing her cheeks against Cheese’s face, tickling him before setting the chao back down.

“Look what I found.” She lowered the gray Chaos Emerald to Cheese’s face, the blue chao looking at it with curiosity in his eyes before rubbing the mystical gem with his stubby hands.

“We should tell Sonic!”

“Chao, chao!” Cheese enthusiastically agreed as Cream made her way back to the house, hoping to give the blue hedgehog a call.

As the bunny was about to open the sliding glass door, however, she heard a rumbling sound rapidly approaching. She turned around to witness a dozen Egg Pawns tearing through the brick hedge bordering the backyard. Behind these robots appeared Dr. Eggman, riding in his floating Egg Mobile, a birdcage-like structure dangling from his personal transport. Cheese hid behind Cream’s short legs, peering out from behind to capture a glimpse of the menacing madman.

“Wooahhooohoohooo! If it isn’t Cream the Rabbit! How are you doing on this splendid day?” The sarcasm dripped from his lips as he gave the young bunny a sinister smile.

“What do you want, Eggman? Can’t you just leave us alone?” Cream kept her hands behind her back, shielding the Chaos Emerald from Eggman’s view.

“I’m afraid not, my dear Cream.” Robotnik snickered as his small battalion of robots stepped closer to the wood patio. “My readings indicate you are harboring a Chaos Emerald. Is this true? I’d very much like to add it to my collection, you know.” His smile grew even wider, showing his white teeth as he eyed the frightened rabbit.

“W…what’re you talking about? I…I don’t have a…Chaos Emerald…” Cream looked away from the evil doctor.

“I’m afraid you’re just as bad at lying as you are at hiding things behind your back.” Cream’s face turned to shock as she dropped the Chaos Emerald. Looking forward, she saw the closest Egg Pawn stomping its way up the patio, splintering the wood as the group got closer to the little bunny.

“I’m warning you…to back off…” Cream kicked the mystical gem to the side and picked Cheese up from the ground. Once worried, Cheese now wore a stern look of determination, ready to join the young rabbit in vanquishing the entourage of mechanical slaves.

“Oh yeah? You and what army?” Eggman massaged his mustache as a group of Egg Pawns formed a semicircle around Cream and Cheese, the bunny’s back against the glass door.

“You asked for it.” Cream raised her arm back as Cheese rolled into a ball.

“Let’s get ‘em, Cheese!”

“Chao, chao!”

The determined rabbit threw her arm forward, launching the chao directly at the nearest robot. Cheese’s collision knocked the Egg Pawn back, static forming all around the machine as it fell to the patio floor, a chao-sized dent in its torso. Cheese ricocheted back to his owner, landing in Cream’s hand as she prepared to launch him again.

“Grrr…that silly rabbit. Doesn’t she realize tricks like that aren’t for kids?” Eggman turned his attention to his remaining solders, pointing at the young bunny.

“Egg Pawns: ATTAAAAACK!”  

Cream threw her chao projectile once more. Cheese smashed one of the robots at an angle, bouncing off several more pawns like a pinball before returning to his master, leaving a trail of destruction behind.

A new wave of machines kicked the debris of their fallen comrades aside as they ran toward the young bunny. Unable to launch another attack in time, Cream rolled herself into a ball and performed a spindash through the wood railing of the patio, gripping Cheese tightly against her chest as she landed on her feet in the yard below, putting a small distance between themselves and the remaining forces.

The first robot to approach Cream in the yard wielded an Egg Gun, a cartoonish-looking weapon with a similar color scheme as its mechanical user. Cream cradled the blue chao, still catching her breath as sweat rolled down her brow.

The bunny lunged to the side as the mechanical soldier fired a laser blast. The beam hit the large tree in the corner of the yard, bark exploding everywhere upon impact.

As she dove, the young rabbit threw Cheese toward the Egg Pawn. The robot dropped its laser gun as it fell backward, sparks flying in all directions as the chao bounced back to his owner once more.

“I must say,” Eggman began, maneuvering his Egg Mobile closer to the heroic duo, “you two pack quite a punch…for a pair of small fries.” Itching his chin, Eggman gave them another menacing smile. “I’ll give you one last chance to surrender the Chaos Emerald to me. If you comply, I may spare myself the trouble of keeping you as my prisoner.”

“No way!” She balled her hands into fists as she leaned forward, fire in her eyes. She stepped closer to Eggman’s personal transport, Cheese floating alongside his determined master. “We won’t back down to a bully like you, Eggman!”

“Chao, chao!” As the rabbit placed her hands against her hips, so too did the blue chao, both eyeing the doctor with a level of determination and fearlessness well beyond their young years.

“Very well, I guess we have to do this the hard way, then.” Eggman snapped his fingers before two Egg Pawns grabbed the heroes from behind. “Although with you two in my care, it’ll make getting what I want much easier.” As Cream and Cheese unsuccessfully struggled to pull away from the Egg Pawns’ metallic grasps, Robotnik peered down at an unoccupied soldier, standing at the ready.

“You there!” Eggman pointed at the machine, the pawn instantly saluting the evil doctor. “Go fetch the Chaos Emerald so we can be on our way.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Huh?” The evil doctor set his sights on the motherly voice coming from the porch. Vanilla held the grey gem in her hand as she glared at Eggman from the damaged patio.

“How dare you, picking on a young girl and her pet chao!” She briskly walked across the porch, intending to chew him out up close.

“Egg Pawns, retrieve the Chaos Emerald from this rabbit by any means necessary!” Eggman yelled as he pointed toward Vanilla, the remaining five unoccupied, undamaged robots swarming the elder bunny.

“No momma! Don’t do it!” Cream and Cheese were hastily thrown into the birdcage dangling from the Egg Mobile, the two colliding with the metal bars on the opposite side, wincing at the resulting pain as they stood up in their new prison. “Run away! Please don’t get hurt!”

“Cream…” Vanilla watched as her daughter’s eyes filled with tears, the little bunny’s hands clasping the rusty bars of the cage as she begged her mother to flee. Vanilla turned her gaze up to Eggman, staring into his glasses-covered eyes with a menacing glare.

“No…I’m gonna protect Cream…at all costs!”

The Egg Pawns ascended the damaged patio, lunging directly toward the older bunny. Bending her knees, Vanilla dodged the diving pawn’s attack, chopping its back from behind as she spun around to meet her next opponent, her motherly instincts manifesting in a way which rivaled Robotnik’s forces. The mechanical soldier fell over, sparks encompassing the downed robot.

“…M…momma?” Cream was in shock, having never seen her mother so much as lift a fork in anger let alone take down an Eggman robot.

“Who’s next?” Vanilla bent her knees, pulling her arm forward as she extended and retracted her gloved fingers into her palm, beckoning her next challenger to approach the impromptu wooden ring. As if on cue, another Egg Pawn, this one wielding a lance, threw itself at the rabbit with brute force. Vanilla dodged, the robot’s spear shattering the door as the pawn fell on a long shard of glass, permanently putting it out of commission.

Without missing a beat, Vanilla punched another pawn in the face, causing its panel-like teeth to dim as the robotic soldier flew backward, tumbling down the dilapidated stairs.

“Grrr…you insolent rabbit! I’ve had enough of your tricks!” Robotnik flew his Egg Mobile upward, carrying his captors with him. “If you don’t throw me the Chaos Emerald, I’ll drop your precious daughter to the ground below.” Eggman laughed, his bellowing voice echoing into Vanilla’s large ears. “If she’s lucky, Cream may come out of it with merely a broken leg…or two.”

“Cream!” Vanilla jumped over the shattered wooden steps, landing in the grass as she helplessly watched Cream and Cheese from below.

“So what will it be?” Eggman massaged his mustache, grinning in satisfaction as he peered down at the distraught mother. “The Chaos Emerald for the safety of your daughter? Sounds like a reasonable trade if you ask me. Wooahhooohoohooo!”

Vanilla gripped the grey gem in her hand, her arm shaking as tears began to flow down her face. “Okay Eggman…you win…just don’t hurt her.”

“No way! Give me the emerald first!” Robotnik reached an arm down along the side of the Egg Mobile, a smirk growing on his face as he readied himself to catch the gem.

“…Okay…” She cleared her tears with her arm as she prepared to throw the emerald up to the evil doctor.

“No momma! Don’t do it! He’s tricking you!” Tears were falling from Cream’s muzzle as she shook the metal bars, hoping to persuade her mother to keep the gem, but it was too late; Vanilla threw the grey emerald upward, the gem whizzing past the birdcage before landing in Eggman’s gloved hand. Eyeing it intently, he gave a bellowing laugh as he turned the Egg Mobile around.

“Wait! You have the emerald, now give me back my daughter!”

“Oh, was that the agreement now?” Robotnik snickered. “All I said was that your daughter would be safe. I never mentioned anything about returning her!” Eggman’s laughter dissipated as his Egg Mobile zipped away, taking Cream and Cheese along for the ride. The remaining Egg Pawns followed them on foot, leaving Vanilla alone in the backyard battlefield.  

The distraught mother collapsed to the ground, the wet grass staining her dress as tears flowed down her face. “Oh Cream…I’m so sorry…” She stared aimlessly at the ground, machine parts strewn about her as she replayed her daughter’s kidnapping over and over in her head, tears dripping from her muzzle and landing on her knees.

After what felt like forever, Vanilla stumbled to her feet, the physical and emotional toll from the fight and the loss of her daughter catching up to the weary rabbit as she stepped over the destroyed Egg Pawn blocking the back entrance of her cottage.

Making her way to the kitchen counter, Vanilla leaned forward as she struggled to pull a phone toward her, dialing a set of numbers before placing it to her ear.

“Hey Vanilla! How is it going?”

“Amy…please…help me…he…Eggman…took Cream…”

“…Please help...”

*****

Chapter 10 can be found here. 

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Wonderwall Chapter 7

Keanu Reeves x Reader A/n- Sorry if this chapter feels like it goes on forever but I refuse to extend it yet again. 

“I don’t believe that anybody, feels the way I do about you now”- Oasis.

December 1st

The restaurant is buzzing with life. Also, it’s a little colder than I anticipated, making me rethink my decision to forgo sleeves. I’m wearing a black mini cocktail dress with designer heels and very dark make-up. Compared to most of the other patrons, I feel a little over dressed, I’m meeting my friend’s girlfriend.....sort of girlfriend....whatever she is, not dining with royalty.

I’ve been at the restaurant for a little over fifteen minutes, the thin heel of my shoe tapping impatiently against my shin. We agreed to eight, but here I am at seven forty five, already ready for my second glass of wine.

Thankfully though, I’m by myself, I would have hated for this to be a double date. Jacob has gone to Colorado to meet with his family and I’ll join them next week as we make last minute preparations for the wedding. For my wedding. It’s hard to believe that I’m actually getting married in two weeks. I always thought I’d be more excited, and these days, every time I think about meeting Jacob down the aisle, it feels like something is missing. Like I’ve forgotten something hugely important and that I’ll only realize it when it’s too late. I hope that’s not the case, the last thing I want is to feel regret on one of the most important days of my life.

“You look so cute with your hair tucked behind your ear,” Samantha giggles as she proceeds to do just that before settling back into the passenger seat. We’re on our way to a restaurant in Manhattan, she’s going to meet Y/n for the first time. She looks nice tonight, her hair is curled and she’s wearing this cute pink shift dress with white flowers. 

Comfortable silence continues for a while until, through the corner of my left eye, I notice Samantha fidgeting in her seat, wringing her fingers. Maintaining one hand on the wheel, I put the other on her bare knee, squeezing affectionately, “You okay over there?”

She looks over to me, smiling tightly, blue eyes wide with unspoken worry, “Yeah,” she huffs the quickly shakes her head, “No. Not really.” Before I can ask what’s wrong, she’s telling me. This is one of the things I like about her, she says what she’s thinking, uncomplicated. “It’s just, what if this doesn’t go well? I mean, she’s Y/n Y/l/n. Mega famous movie star with awards and millions of fans. And she’s gorgeous! Like Vogue magazine gorgeous. You know she’s been on the cover right? Twice!”

I do know that. I was there for the second shoot and I have copies of both at issues at my place in L.A. In a very non-weird, plutonic way of course. “I know,” Is that the right response? I don’t know. “But it’s going to be okay,” I rub her thigh in reassurance, “Don’t be intimidated by her, she’s actually really great.”

Samantha sighs, “Of course she’s great. But she’s your best friend Keanu. What if she hates me, or sees something that you’re don’t? What if she decides that I’m no good for you.”

As I pull into a parking spot, Samantha frowns and while I don’t respond, I understand her worry. In fact, admittedly, I’m a little nervous too, because deep down, as illogical as it is, I’ve managed to convince myself that even if I can’t have Y/n, having her approve of the person I’m dating might be the next best thing. I want her to like Samantha, I need her to like Samantha. “Y/n isn’t like that. Besides, you’re right, she is my best friend, that means we have a lot in common,” Not really though, what’s that thing they say about opposites attract? “So if I like you, she’ll like you.” Great, now I’m lying to her, there’s no way I can know that for sure. “Come on,” I gently encourage her, getting out of the car to open her door, “Let’s get inside.”

Just past eight, Keanu walks in with a tall, blonde woman on his arm. She looks a few years older than me, at minimum two heads taller and very beautiful. At least my jealousy isn’t misplaced.

They approach our table and I stand in greeting. Keanu pulls me into a hug before words are exchanged and at our side, I sense that Samantha is very nervous. Am I that intimidating? When we break, He keeps an arm on my shoulder, “Y/n, Samantha. Samantha, Y/n.” 

Holding my hand out for her to shake, I chuckle, rolling my eyes, “Wow Ke, A plus for introductions,” he laughs, gesturing for us to sit and I turn my attention to Samantha, “It’s so nice to meet you, I’ve heard good things.”

She seems to sigh quietly in relief, “It’s great to meet you too, Keanu talks about you, a lot,” Samantha huffs, laughing quietly and Keanu blushes. Growing out his beard has really served him well, it usually hides the pinkness in his cheeks, but I know him well enough to look for it around his eyes.

“Should I be worried that there’s so much to talk about?” 

“Oh, god no,” Samantha waves me off, “It’s all great things. I’m a huge fan by the way.”

I laugh off her comment and try to change the topic, eventually saved by the waiter who comes to take our order. 

Things seem to be going well. Y/n seems to like Samantha, Samantha seems to like her back. I should be relaxed. But I’m not, in fact, I’m far from it. I’m either waiting for conflict or I’m about to be conflict. I don’t even know what that means.

My foot keeps tapping the marble floor, though its inaudible, my hands are sweaty and I think I’m angry, annoyed, nervous? No clue, but I feel it in my chest and it’s deterring me from eating. 

And of course, Y/n notices. “Everything okay Ke?” Have I ever said that I love when she calls me that, because I do. Some people call me ‘KeKe’ or ‘Charlie’, but no one but Y/n calls me ‘Ke’. I like it, a lot. It just falls off her lips like she’s meant to say it. It makes me feel all warm inside, and from the minute it reaches my ears, she has my undivided attention, it’s like a siren song, and nothing can keep away from her.

Okay, maybe that was an over-exaggeration, but I swear, that’ s how it feels sometimes. Like she’s the life raft when I’m drowning.

“Keanu,” Y/n calls a little louder.

My head jerks up, my thoughts scattering like the birds do in Central Park, “Huh?”

“I asked if you’re okay,” a quick glance Samantha’s way proves that she’s intently watching our interaction, though, she looks confused, like she didn’t know something was wrong.

“I’m fine,” I assure Y/n more hurriedly than I should have. “Why?”

Y/n rolls her eyes and maybe if she didn’t look so concerned, she’d be smiling, or making a joke about how I’m never paying attention, “You’re doing that thing with you’re face,” she explains, frowning.

“What thing?” What thing? I don’t have a thing. 

“Like you’re staring but not seeing. That face you make when you’re uncomfortable, or annoyed. It goes either way really,” she shrugs, but looks at me expectantly, awaiting a response. 

Samantha is staring too and I feel oddly under pressure, as if I’m going to burst into to flames right this second. Without warning, I stand from the table, pushing my plate away a little. “I need a smoke,” I announce, walking off towards the side door.

The night air is colder than it is in Los Angeles and the ally way near the restaurant is heavy with moisture. As the door swings closed behind me, I fish a pack of cigarettes, and remove one, holding it between my lips as I search for a lighter.

There should be one in my right pocket, but because the world is somehow against me tonight, I can’t find it. I probably look like 5 kinds of idiot, grumbling to myself as I try to find a lighter that I clearly don’t have, “Fucking-”

“Need a light?” A familiar female voice interrupts. Y/n. When I turn, she’s standing near the door, holding out a little silver lighter. 

Huffing a laugh, I step nearer to her, bending a little so the tip of my cigarette can meet the open flame. “Why do you always have a lighter?” I take a long drag before blowing the smoke away from her, “You don’t smoke.”

“Do I have to smoke to own a lighter?” Her tone is light and teasing, and just for a minute, things feel as uncomplicated as they did a year and a half ago.

“You know what I mean,” despite my inner protests, I go to lean against the suspicious looking wall.

“Well,” Y/n begins, coming to stand next to me, leaving about half foot of space between us, “I always have a lighter, because my best friend is a smoker.”

I chuckle quietly and Y/n does too. I miss having moments like these. Not necessarily in a dark allies, but the ones where it’s just us, where the rest of the world doesn’t matter and we can just be. “Do you remember when you tried to get me to quit?”

Y/n laughs a little louder. It was after we had known each other for about a year and she was repulsed by the idea of cigarettes. “You’re filling your lungs with tar,” is what she had argued, yanking a pack from my hands. “Obviously,” Y/n giggles, “You went through a pack of nicotine gum in a day and drank so much coffee that we had to stay up all night watching reruns.” 

“Correction, I stayed up all night. You fell asleep at like, one am,” I point out, earning myself a louder laugh. She looks so good when she’s happy. Not that she doesn’t always look good, it’s just that when she smiles, everything seems brighter. 

“Well, I’m sorry if you can’t handle caffeine,“ Y/n accuses.

“So this is my fault now?” I turn to her and see that she’s having just as much fun as I am, “I’m not the one who tossed an entire pack of cigarettes down the garbage disposal.”

Scoffing, Y/n playfully punching my arm, “I was trying to help.”

“I lost an entire night of sleep, you broke your garbage disposal and I still smoke,” I nudge her back.

“Whatever,” she giggles. After a while Y/n rubs her hands over her arms, trying to suppress a shiver. 

“Come on, we should get you inside,” I toss the nub of the cigarette to the ground, dousing it with the toe of my boot. I reach for her hand when she doesn’t move, but Y/n doesn’t let me take it.

“No,” her changed expression is shrouded in the dimness but I can tell that it’s no longer fun and games, “We haven’t even talked about what was going on with you in there.”

Oh. Without thinking, I blurt out, “We haven’t talked about a lot of things.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Y/n folds her arms across of her chest, taking another step back.

“What happened in L.A. Why you’re marrying Jacob even though you don’t love him. Everything that’s happened this past year.” The fact that we slept together but pretend that it didn’t happen. Why she was so worried about my fist when her fiancé was bleeding on the floor.

God, that night....

I had driven us to the hospital in her car. She had sat in the back with Jacob but every time I checked the rear view mirror, I could see her staring at me. Confused, lost, deep in a pool of thought. She had even talked him into not pressing charges. 

“Of course I lo-” she can’t even finish the word, scoffing defensively, “This isn’t about me,” her voice firms, edging with anger and she shakes her head, running a hand through her hair. 

I sigh, mirroring her motions, “I don’t want to fight about this.”

“Neither do I,” I breathe quietly. He’s right, we haven’t talked about everything. But what’s there to say? He’s clearly happy with Samantha and I’m getting married in two weeks so it’s too late to back out now, “I just want to know what’s bothering you. Tell me so I can fix it, please.” I hate when he does this, when he wallows with his problems without telling me. All I’ve ever wanted since we met was for him to know that I’m here for him, that I’d listen even if all he ever talked about was the same thing. That if I could, I’d fix everything, he’d never feel alone or sad, that the world would always be in his favor. All I’ve ever wanted was for him to know that I’m- no, don’t say it. If you say it, you mean it. If you think it, you mean it, and I can’t mean it.

“Why does it matter?” He asks, kicking the ground, hitting his thigh with his fist.

“Because,” I huff, “You matter to me, because I told you I want to-”

“You can’t fix it, there’s nothing to fix,” Keanu sighs again then approaches me, placing his hands on my shoulders. Just for a minute, my mind flashes back to the night we spent together. His hands were as warm and as pleasantly rough as they are now. “You’re always so pragmatic,” he smiles sadly, though its hard to make it out in the darkness, “Trying to solve every problem, thinking with your head, not with your heart. What does your heart tell you?“

“I already told you-”

“Yeah,” Keanu breaths, stepping closer. He smells like tobacco, smoke, cologne and leather, my heart says that it’s my favorite scent. “You said it’s not about you. But for me, it’s about you.”

“I don’t understand,” his face seems closer and I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t take much to just pull him into a kiss. But I can’t, if I do, it won’t stop there, and it shouldn’t even be here.

“Neither do I,” his lips quirk into the slightest hint of a smile. “Y/n,” he breaths my name, leaning down so our faces are inches apart.”

Our noses are a hair apart, “Ke,” I probably sound more frightened than anything else. I shouldn't be doing this, feeling like this. Not about my best friend. Not when my wedding is in two weeks. Not when his girlfriend is inside, waiting for us. “We should get back inside, Samantha is probably wondering what’s keeping us,” I shimmy out of his hold and Keanu seems stunned by my behavior.

“Yeah,” he nods, dropping his hands,  looking away from me, “You’re right. You go ahead and I’ll catch up.”

“Okay,” I force myself to smile, awkwardly moving around him to head back. Before I reenter though the open door, I spare Keanu one last glance, but he doesn’t reciprocate, his back is to me, head down and hands in his pockets. I want to call out to him an apologize, but I’ve already done enough damage.

December 14th

Two more days. Two more days until I watch Y/n stroll down the aisle on her father’s arm, but she won’t be walking to me. Two more days until I’ll put on a fake smile and pretend I’m happy for her. I should be, I know I should be. Everyone’s always saying that if you love someone, you’ll be happy even if their happiness isn’t you. Whoever said that has clearly never been love, because I am in no way happy. Jealous? Maybe. Sad? Definitely.

As if going to this wedding wasn’t going to be  bad enough, it had to be in the Colorado mountains. It’s cold and there’s snow everywhere for miles. The nights are much darker and the days aren’t significantly warmer. 

This morning, a guide from the resort took us skiing down the slopes near by. Contrary to my previous beliefs, skiing is not easier if you grew up playing hockey. The mechanics are completely different and now I have a bruise on my left knee from falling down so much. The best part about it was the time I had gotten to spend with Y/n. Jacob, despite growing up in this frozen over hell, does not like skiing and Samantha had stayed back at our room finishing up some paper work for her office.

The company was fun, but skiing is most definitely not something I plan on taking up as a hobby

“Hey,” I greet, strolling into our room, kicking off snow covered boots at the door and shrugging off my top coat.

Samantha turns to me, closing down her laptop, pushing her glasses up on her head, “Hi! How was the great, frozen, outdoors?”

“Very frozen and not that great,” she laughs musically and I plop down next to her. In a matter of seconds, she’s pressing herself to my side, and my arm goes around her. She might not be Y/n, but Samantha’s great. “I think it’s safe to say that this old dog is incapable of learning new tricks.”

“Aww,” Samantha coos, her slender arms going around me as she leans up to kiss my jaw, “You’re only as old as you feel babe,” she giggles.

“Well right now I’m feeling exactly fifty five,” I laugh and Samantha crawls into my lap, a mischievous glint in her baby blues, “Not that I’m complaining, but what are you doing?”

“Trying to make you feel younger,” she muses, letting one of her hands slide down to my crotch as she leans in to kiss me.

December 15th

Jacob sleeps peacefully on his side of the bed while I’m sitting on the balcony, wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket, on my third glass of wine. There’s a knot in my stomach and a tightness in my chest though I can’t tell if it’s just pre wedding jitters or pure fright. I’ve thought about waking my mother with the issue, but I don’t think she’ll be much help. This morning, at breakfast, when I told her that I was nervous, all she could sum up was, “I don’t know what to tell you hun, I still can’t believe you’re marrying an investment banker in the middle of snowy nowhere.” 

Sometimes I can’t believe it either. I always though I’d marry someone who did what I did, or just a man who could share my appreciation for film and arts. Someone who knew how to have fun without leaving the house, who didn’t jump at the next reason to yell. A man who didn’t make a relationship seem like so much work. If I’m being completely honest, I wish I was marrying someone like Keanu.

As the thought crosses my mind, and I finish the last draining of wine from the bottle, my phone vibrates on the little end table, the screen flashing with a calendar notification that simply reads, “Wedding day.” 

It’s officially the day of my wedding and I’m not even excited. Unlocking the phone, I somehow end up in my gallery, biting my lip as I flip through the pictures I’ve taken with him. There’s so much more with me and Keanu than there are with Jacob. I’m smiling in most of them and even as I reminisce, a smile threatens my lips.

Some are from the day Keanu and I went to Santa Monica Pier, in one of the pictures, he has a couple stuffed animals under his arm; at the end of the night he had insisted I keep them. I still have them. Another is from my birthday last year. I didn’t want to do anything but he had bought me a cake and VIP tickets to a concert. We had gone together and had stumbled back to a London hotel room drunk, waking up smelling like booze and adorned with merchandise. The earliest snap is from last Christmas, when we had gone shopping together and we had taken the picture during lunch at one of our favorite spots in New York. I’m not sure how I never noticed it, but I had been looking at the phone while Keanu had been looking at me.

“What are you doing?”  I ask myself in a soft whisper. This isn’t what I want, it’s not even close. It’s....a breath stealing contrast. 

Clumsily, I stand from the chair, not even caring that the blanket has fallen to the floor. As I stand, my head feels lighter and it takes a minute before my vision steadies. In retrospect, an entire bottle of wine might not have been my best idea.

Still, though my mind is blurry, one thing is alarmingly clear. It should have been all along, and maybe it was, but I was so busy trying to do the most logical thing that I forgot about everything else. I said yes to Jacob because it made sense, he’s familiar, he stays despite my flaws and I stay in spite of his. We’ve been together for years, more on than off, marriage felt like the only thing left for us. But is that what I really want? Familiarity mistaken for love.

What does your heart tell you?

I know what it’s telling me, it’s been screaming the same thing for months, years. But every time I heard it, I stifled it. I’m in love with Keanu.

I stare up at the darkness while Samantha lies next to me, wearing only one of my shirts, wrapped up in the sheets. I’m flat on my back, trying to make out the dark veins on the oak ceiling, sifting through my thoughts. I feel like I’m always thinking, but getting no where.

Beside me, my phone vibrates and when I pick it up, it’s a text from Y/n. ‘You up? Can we talk?’

My fingers move quickly across the screen, typing a response, ‘Sure, meet you downstairs?’

‘Great.’ Her response is almost as immediate as me getting out of bed and getting dressed.

I hurry to get into a pair of jeans and a thick flannel with a jacket over it. This place is way too cold. What could she want to talk about this late? Nothing good can come from a conversation past midnight, edging into the morning of her wedding.

Pocketing my phone, I forgo waking Samantha to explain and decide to just creep out of the room before bounding down the stairs, my feet hitting the carpeted stairs in quick muffled thuds.

When I get to the lounge, which is deserted save for the both of us. Y/n’s hair is wind blown and for some reason I’m worried that she might have gone outside this late in nothing but a pair of yoga pants and a cable knit sweater. 

The pale yellow light coming from the little lamps along the walls is dim, but it’s enough to illuminate the calm, quiet distress renting her features, “Hey, what’s going on Y/n? Is everything okay?” I reach out to touch her shoulder and she wrings her hands in front of her.

It takes a while but when she finally speaks, Y/n’s voice is thick with emotion and her eyes are teary, “Ke,” she breathes, her voice breaking, “I think I’ve made a mistake.”

*****

Tagging- @avxgers​ @sgt-morgan​ @shanjedi​ @doodooloo700​ @a-really-bi-girl​ @coolbreezeinkeanureeves @i-cant-remember-my-old-login @baphometwolf666 @everything-is-awesomesauce​ @tuliptx​

[ahgaseda]

made of stone || chapter 14

⇥ synopsis : when you return after years apart to pursue a divorce from your husband, Mark, you fall back into a contentious relationship because your partner still refuses to give up his dangerous fighting career...

⇥ warnings : this story in its entirety includes but is not limited to strong language and dialogue, descriptions of blood and violence, alcohol or drug use, and explicit sexual content, and is intended for an adult audience only!

Sweat poured down your face and you suddenly dropped to your hands and knees, dry-heaving as your empty stomach punished you for the stress.

Jinyoung shoved a small bin under you, though he knew you wouldn’t produce anything. Jackson appeared a swift moment later and began dousing your face with cold water from the hose.

“Isn’t this too much too soon?” Bambam questioned worriedly.

Jaebum replied, “Gotta get her into shape.”

“Get up,” Jackson ordered sternly, speaking your name with force.

You shook your head, which only made you more nauseous because your head was pounding.

“This is when it gets hard,” Jinyoung reminded softly. “Push through it and remember why you’re doing this.”

Easy for him to say, you thought, but you knew he meant well and his words lingered.

Jackson turned off the hose and tossed it away, crouching down beside you and waiting patiently.

Your arms were trembling uncontrollably and you knew your body was moving past its threshold and landing somewhere into shock. Digging deep, you got back to your feet and slowly put up your fists.

Jackson mirrored your stance and sidestepped next to you, asking, “You quitting?”

“No,” you answered, voice too meek for his taste.

Jinyoung resumed his position behind the bag, holding it steady as the chains fastening it to the ceiling jingled loudly.

Jackson moved closer and yelled, “You gonna let some bitch put you down?”

Hitting the bag with your fist, you shouted, “No!”

Jackson shrugged, unimpressed. “Then show me something!”

You struck the bag with enough force to send Jinyoung off-balance. He hadn’t expected it.

Jackson smacked your ass and cheered, “There she is!”

Dropping your arms, you glanced toward a stoic Mark seated against the far wall and warned out of the corner of your mouth, “You know my husband is over there, right?”

“Pfft, you one of the boys,” Jackson retorted, sticking out his tongue like a misbehaving child that knew he would fully get away with it. “Don’t even flirt with me.”

You chuckled. The brief levity was sorely needed.

The fight would be in two weeks and it went without saying that you were more than rusty. Firstly, you had never fought in an organized event, legal or illegal. Your training stemmed from self-defense courses, a few jiu jitsu lessons, and scrapping on the street in your adolescent years. Obviously, none of those lended themselves to a career in underground fighting.

Still, you knew you were more than capable of handling the business at hand and no matter what, you had to insert yourself into this world and find the Achilles heel.

Fortunately for you, Jackson was the world’s best personal trainer. He liked to taunt and encourage... very loudly. He knew exactly how to push at your buttons to get the desired result and he was just what you needed with such a short window of preparation.

“I’m trying, Jackson,” you huffed, propping your hands on your thighs and taking a few steadying breaths after another sequence of drills.

Jackson folded his arms and crowded into your space, barking, “You gon’ let some bastard disrespect you?”

That lit a fire under your ass like nothing else. Images of Mark being bum rushed by Jong-Kook’s men made your blood boil. “Never,” you hissed.

Jinyoung braced against the bag as you pounded a combo of hits against the surface with renewed vigor. Each collision rang out in the empty gym.

All the boys were in attendance, of course. They had made comments about getting a workout in, but you knew they were here to watch you and decide if you had a fighting chance in hell.

Jackson was relentless, moving you from station to station as soon as you began to settle. Fortunately for him, you had a lot of trust (and affection) where he was concerned. Or else you probably would have clocked him by now.

Approaching Jaebum, who pulled on mitts over his hands, you took your stance and prepared for Jackson’s new set of demands.

“Start off with three hit combos,” Jackson instructed. “But alternate each time. Right-left-right, then left-right-left.”

You did as told, saying nothing. Jaebum kept the mitts raised, but you knew as you picked up speed he would start lifting and lowering them to sharpen your reflexes.

“Come on,” Jackson urged, snapping his fingers at you, because your strikes were too slow and timid. “Pick it up!”

You were tired and hungry, both of which contributed to you becoming very crabby. Grumbling, you snipped, “I’m hitting them, aren’t I?”

“Damn, where’s the enthusiasm?” Jackson exclaimed, glancing between you and your gloved hands pounding the mitts. “I hope you don’t suck your man’s dick with that energy.”

Yugyeom spat out a mouthful of water, nearly choking as Bambam tumbled off of his stool with laughter.

Even in your irritable, cranky haze, you snickered and just like that, the morale lifted again.

“Give me one more,” Jackson ordered ten minutes later.

Rising from another squat, you whined, “You said one more ten reps ago!”

Jackson replied, “I know you got more in them thighs.”

“I will crush your head like a walnut between these thighs when I’m done,” you threatened, moisture rolling down your neck.

Jackson taunted, “Do I need to get a whistle?”

Still rising and falling with the weighted bar across your shoulders, your leg muscles were screaming and your temper flared. “If you… get a whistle,” you growled between reps. “I will shove it… up your ass.”

Jackson predictably grinned from ear to ear. As long as you had that fire, he knew you weren’t at your limit.

Across the room, Jinyoung tentatively approached Mark, saying, “Should I even bother asking how you’re doing?”

“I’m not the one that has almost passed out three times,” Mark chuffed.

Jinyoung sighed. “Maybe you should go for a walk.”

“Jinyoung…” Mark warned sternly.

“We gotta feed her soon,” Jinyoung added, softening his tone. “Grab us some lunch. Please?”

Mark exhaled heavily, but he couldn’t argue with that. Rising, he nodded and shuffled through the door, making sure it slammed to a close behind him.

“I didn't think I was this out of shape,” you told Jackson, putting your hands on your waist and stretching as your relentless trainer gave you a well-earned, albeit short respite.

Jackson smarted, “Not getting laid for two years will do that.”

“Ha. Ha,” you deadpanned, glaring.

The door slammed closed in Mark’s wake as he left and you lingered your eyes where he had been. Waiting for the sound to stop echoing off of the stone walls, you whispered, “He still won’t speak to me.”

Jackson lifted a brow at your admission, but he was not the least surprised. “Can you blame him?”

Hanging your head, you eventually said, “No.”

“You left him for two years, because he fought. What will you do if he leaves?”

Somber, you blinked at the threat of tears. “At least he will be safe,” you murmured.

Jackson simpered and patted your back in comfort. Blood be damned, Mark was his brother and Jackson would fuck anyone up who dared say otherwise. Which was why he supported you with everything he had and could give. Both of you wanted to protect Mark, including from himself.

“Alright, he’s gone,” Jinyoung announced, having been watching your husband clear the parking lot.

The boys flocked around you and your brow furrowed in confusion.

“Tell them,” Jackson said, arms folding tightly across his chest.

Realizing what he meant, you groaned, “Jacks…”

“They need to know,” Jackson insisted.

A silence fell over the room and dread hung in the air. He wasn’t wrong; the others deserved to know what they were getting into with you.

Wringing your fingers, you said, “I owe Jong-Kook five fights.”

It seemed like a simple statement, but Jackson wouldn’t have gathered everyone together for that. Wary, Jinyoung prompted. “And?”

“I must win the first four.”

“Fuck me,” Jaebum groaned, running a hand down his face and turning away.

“And the fifth?” Jinyoung pressed. You had never seen him so angry, but he couldn’t believe you had done this.

Defeated, your reply was almost inaudible, “You already know.”

“Say it,” Jackson barked.

“I take a dive.”

Jinyoung grit his teeth. “Concussion, fractured skull, brain bleed...”

“You can’t tap out in shit like that,” Jaebum cut to the chase, his lips in a taut line. “They will only settle for a knockout.”

“I am aware of that,” you stated levelly.

Jinyoung insisted, “You can’t do this.”

You planted your feet and asserted, “I have to. Jong-Kook wants to make an example of Mark. And if Mark says anything, he would be talking himself into the Harbor. People don’t give a shit when kids like us go missing. You all know that.”

Silence returned, and it was grim.

“We’ll figure something out,” Jaebum spoke after a pause, somber. “You just focus on not getting hit.”

You nodded, wanting to thank him, but too on the verge of tears to say the words. One by one, the boys dispersed, the laughter and joking having all but vanished.

Only Jackson stayed at your side and once the others were out of earshot, he whispered, “Your biggest fear has always been Mark taking a hit so hard he never gets up, right?”

“Don’t…” you trailed, lips quivering.

Jackson studied you momentarily and let it go. Part of him knew you had something up your sleeve and the other part prayed day and night you would never get that far.

chapter 13 ⇤ chapter 14 ⇥ chapter 15

Hey there, beautiful! If you enjoyed this, please leave a like or reblog or follow me! Or maybe buy me a coffee so I can keep writing? Or check out my masterlist here for more stories! Thanks for reading :) - Katya

This work is fictional and for entertainment purposes only, but is licensed and protected under a creative commons attribution-noncommercial-noderivatives 4.0 international license. Any instances of plagiarism will be dealt with accordingly. Do not re-post or translate without my permission.

{ copyright 2018-2020 © ahgaseda // all rights reserved }

[redroseinsanity]

Grounded

Late for Daichi’s birthday and Daisuga Day and inspired by passengers stranded in Taiwan on NYE. 

This is possibly the worst way I can spend my birthday, Sawamura Daichi thinks to himself, wedged into a middle seat with a baby bawling its eyes out two rows back on a plane that’s been stuck on the tarmac for two hours.

He knew he’d start his birthday in the air when he booked a flight that left at 8pm, but he’d also hoped that he would be able to spend the rest of the day after he landed exploring the city before his business meetings started on the 3rd of January.

Sadly, fate seemed to decree that he was to turn twenty four feeling like a wretched and squashed marshmallow, a bit too dried out from the aeroplane air and desperately wanting to go to sleep but feeling painfully uncomfortable in the too small chair and with the dig of his seatmate’s elbow in his side. He glanced over at the owner of the offending joint and found a flabby middle-aged man fast asleep in his aisle seat.

With a sigh, Daichi shifted a smidgen over, just enough to escape the jabbing elbow and enough so that he was looking out past the person in the window seat to gaze out at the lights of the airport runway. At least that was beautiful in a way and mildly remedied the fact that Daichi was likely to start his birthday contorted into an unspeakably tiny aeroplane chair with a very sad selection of entertainment available and no water.

“Holy cheeseballs, this plane doesn’t take off soon, I’m going to charge into the cockpit and fly this thing myself,” the window seat passenger muttered, fingers drumming on the cover of his book which lay, rather abandoned, in his lap.

Catching Daichi’s sharp, surprised (and slightly amused look) his way, the window seat passenger offered a wry smile.

“Sorry, I don’t really like being in enclosed spaces, two hours is three hours too long on the tarmac.”

Daichi chuckled as he tamped down rising butterflies in his stomach when he took in porcelain skin and bright eyes framed by soft, tousled silver hair and the most perfect beauty mark.

How had he not noticed this absolute stunner sitting right next to him the entire time? Probably because I was too busy wallowing in self-pity for having to start my twenty fourth year on earth in a flying tin can that refuses to fly.

“Yeah, I wish they would just tell us what’s going on so that I would at least know why I have to spend my birthday in absolute agony in an airplane that’s going nowhere,” Daichi smiled crookedly, rubbing the back of his neck in the manner of a truly resigned man.

The beautiful stranger’s hazel eyes widened as he inhaled sharply.

“It’s your birthday?” he hissed, looking far more aghast on Daichi’s behalf than Daichi had felt in the past two hours.

“Not yet!” Daichi assured him and then checked his watch, “But in two hours.” He sagged into his seat.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time, landing in a gorgeous city on the morning of my birthday and taking the time to wander around,” Daichi explained, shaking his head at himself, “Obviously in hindsight, not such a good plan.”

“This is a travesty,” the gorgeous seatmate pounded a fist on his book, his voice turning into an angry whisper, “We shouldn’t be stuck here with no sign of moving and you shouldn’t be trapped here on your birthday!”

Opening his mouth to assure him that now that he had dug his grave, he was quite prepared to lie in it, Daichi was cut off by an overhead announcement.

“Good evening, everyone. This is your captain speaking. As you all are aware, we’ve been trying to remedy an electrical fault before taking off. However, I’ve just been notified that we require a new part to fly safely and so, we invite all passengers to disembark and we hope to fly within the next three hours as we wait for the new part to arrive and be swapped in,” there was a collective groan that reverberated around the cabin and immediately, people began murmuring among themselves. Daichi strained to hear the rest of the announcement.

“We sincerely apologise for this delay and will be offering complimentary dining and entertainment vouchers for you to use while waiting. Thank you and we ask for your understanding.”

Half an hour later, Daichi found himself back in the brightly lit walkway filled with shops and eateries, backpack slung over one shoulder and clutching several vouchers.

“Hey!” A familiar silver head bounced over, “Y’know, I’m kind of glad just to be out of there,” Daichi’s flying partner beamed up at him, smile rivaling the brilliant lights from above.

“Any longer and I may have lost it and started climbing the walls,” he grinned cheekily, a smile so contagious that Daichi involuntarily smiled back.

“Plus! They gave so many vouchers, you know what that means?” Daichi shook his head, “It’s a sign,” the silver haired angel stage whispered and Daichi stifled a laugh, “You weren’t meant to start your birthday in that torture device disguised as a mode of transport,” he cast a narrow eyed glare back at the plane, “You were meant to eat copious amounts of food and milk their PR team for all their worth!”

With a handful of vouchers being waved gleefully in his face, Daichi couldn’t control the laughter that escaped him.

“Of course,” he held up his own set, a smile colouring his voice, “Would you do me the honours of spending a ridiculous amount of money that isn’t ours with me?”

Linking a fairly toned arm with Daichi’s own muscled one, the fair stranger peeked up under lowered lashes.

“Why,” he purred, setting Daichi aflame with a single word, “I thought you’d never ask.”

“My name is Daichi, by the way,” Daichi said suddenly, when they’d finished two bowls of ramen each and were digging into ice cream, “I forgot that we never really…”

“Try this, Daichi, it tastes like it was made by the gods themselves,” A spoonful of creamy goodness was held up to his lips by a slim hand, “I’m Sugawara, but you can call me Suga.”

It did taste like it was crafted by divine hands and Daichi told him so. He didn’t tell Suga that he was the most insane and fun person he had ever met in his life, he just drank in the other man’s enthusiasm and excited gestures as he told hilarious stories and kept eating his rum and raisin.

“Obviously, when put in that situation, you’ll have to take your shirt off and then run screaming into the traffic!” Suga exclaimed, waving face cream around as he told Daichi about his colleagues who honestly sounded like lunatics.

“Absolutely,” Daichi replied with as straight a face as possible, “In fact, in those kinds of extreme circumstances, I would also recommend dousing oneself with luminescent paint and then running around the neighbourhood banging on a bucket or some kind of crockery.”

“Without question,” Suga nodded gravely, setting the cream down. There was a moment’s pause before they succumbed to a bout of hysterical giggles and Suga moved on to another moisturizer. Suga was devastatingly handsome and with his eyes crinkled at the corners, clear laughter pealing from deep in his belly, Daichi wondered if it was too soon to be falling for someone. He definitely had a crush, but laughing in duty-free at god knows what time with this shining being was messing with his head and heart far more than he had anticipated.

“You can’t say that if you’ve never tried it!” Suga gasped, sitting upright in the cushy armchair that he’d settled into with his loot of creams and a cup of juice.

“I don’t need to try it! I have smelled it and I know that I never need to even lick it ever in my life,” Daichi stated, feeling a little sleepy even though it wasn’t yet midnight. He usually slept relatively early so anything past eleven was technically past his bedtime. His friends teased him for being an old man, but Daichi liked his sleep and woke up early to run so he didn’t mind the good humoured jibes.

“No way,” Suga leaned into Daichi’s chair, adjacent to his, “This is life changing, I swear. You have to have tried it at least once in your life before you say no.” Shifting a little, he folded his legs into the chair, curling in on himself a little. Suga rested his chin on the arm of Daichi’s chair, peering up in so adorable a manner, Daichi nearly had an aneurysm.

“Nope, you can’t trick me into this, I know it’s a trap,” he retorted, taking another sip of his own smoothie and trying to steady his heartbeat. Easy, Sawamura, you hardly know this guy, he warned himself.

I think I know enough to know I want to know more.

Suga let out a shriek that cascaded into laughter as he tore down the hallway perched on a trolley that Daichi was pushing. Daichi’s lungs were protesting and he could feel the two bowls of ramen slopping around in his stomach but he kept going, chasing the honeyed chimes of Suga’s delight.

It was addictive, really. He had no business being so greedy but here he was, hoping that they’d never get called back to the plane so that he could keep spending time in this limbo with the most unreal person he’d ever met. It seemed like a dream, an impossible and far-fetched fantasy set in a space that didn’t exist where time slipped into darkness and all that mattered was this man, burning brighter than the sun.

When the call for them to re-board came, Daichi was sorely disappointed and it may have been his imagination but Suga might have looked a tad upset as well. They trekked over to the boarding gate until Suga turned abruptly, Daichi nearly walking into him before pulling up short.

He halted inches away from ploughing Suga down and stayed there, staring down at the brilliant light in the other man’s eyes as he smiled gently.

“Happy birthday, Daichi,” Suga tilted his head, “I hope you had fun! Better than being stuck on an airplane anyway, no?” Startled, Daichi checked his watch and found the numbers 2.37am flashing back at him.

“Suga,” he started, one hand reaching out to brush the other man’s arm. Suga who had turned to go wheeled back, eyes expectant, expression soft.

“That was the best birthday I’ve had in a long time. Thank you for spending it with me,” he grinned bashfully, earnestly and Suga’s expression turned softer and triumphant all at once.

They’d certainly exhausted themselves in the airport because the moment they’d gotten on the flight, the pair of them had conked out before the plane even managed to pull up off the runway and into the air.

The next thing Daichi knew, he awoke to a fluffy argon hair pressed against the side of his face and a warm weight on his arm. He looked down and realised that Suga looked even more ethereal in morning light. The clear gold glinted off eyelashes and bathed a face that looked even sweeter when asleep.

There was a sudden pang in his gut when Daichi realised that he’d never see Suga again once they got off this flight. With a sudden fervor, Daichi cast his gaze back down and tried to memorize the planes of Suga’s face.

“Well then, this is me,” Daichi said quietly, hauling his luggage off the conveyor belt.

“Well then,” Suga echoed, eyes fixed on his shoes, eyebrows vaguely knitted.

“If you-”

“I was-”

They spoke at the same time and then both tried to gesture each other to go first. Suga cleared his throat.

“I was just gonna say,” Suga hesitated and then seemed to decide to steel himself with the words coming out in a rush, “I’m free today if you’d like to spend the rest of your birthday together.”

Daichi stared at him, the words ringing in his ears but barely processing. Then it hit him, a smile blooming on his face as ecstasy exploded within him.

“Yes,” he heard himself say, and then again just in case he dreamed it, “Yes! I’d love to. It’s already been the best birthday, and it’s all been thanks to you.”

Suga turned a faint pink, then held out his phone.

“Exchange numbers so we can fix a place to meet after dropping off our luggage?”

They parted ways at the taxi stand and just before Suga dashed off to load up his taxi, he turned breathlessly to Daichi, face alight just like it had been hours ago in the airport.

Stretching up on his toes, he pressed a tender kiss on Daichi’s cheek.

“Happy birthday, Daichi,” he breathed, “See you in a bit.”

Daichi watched him go with the sense of being hit by a boulder of some sort, a silly grin plastered on his face and a glow lighting him up from within.

[tsundere-model]

[Day 27 + Akiomi] One too many tears

It’s become routine, an affair and something far more complex than its ever meant to be. It starts with teaching Izumi how to kiss and he means for that to be the final means of affection, means for it to end. He tells himself he’s merely assisting the model for future work and yet events like these keep occurring. 

They meet at his house. One excuse after another. Letters filled with riddles to indicate time and locations and while they play their parts, while they pretend it’s nothing more than a teacher helping a student plan for their success and future it turns into something raw and even intimate the second they’re behind closed doors. 

It’s agony not to hold him close for weeks on end, to spend time with him in the evenings and it wears on more than just him. Izumi grows bolder with time and though they try to cope with a need and starve for affection nothing quite douses the flames to mere embers. A night with him simply in his presence does little to smother the flames. It entices them to grow to the point where kisses hardly keep them from spreading further. To hold him against him for just a few hours creates longing and it’s no surprise they lose control soon after. 

With a kiss breathes life into curiosity, affection and soon it’s more than a raw need to satisfy a loneliness created by those who cannot love either of them. It turns into its own feeling and a simple desire to be in each others company turns into something deeper. He’s certain he’s always had feelings for the other. Infact, he knows why he’s denied it. He’s his teacher and he’s certain to ruin Izumi Sena’s future by giving into such a frivolous thing as love. 

He fights it. Starts to deny the other. Tries to drive him away and even intentionally refuses to wish him well on his birthday. He believes it will serve as the final blow and yet, that night as he sits alone in his own apartment looking over notes of his own he hears an unexpected knock. It’s firm, desperate, and at first he believes it to be Jin stumbling to his doorstep in one of his drunken stupors. 

Instead, opening it yields a sight that hurts as much as it chills him to the core. He’s seen Izumi upset before, but to appear crestfallen in his anger is the last thing he expects. To loath him, to avoid him until he graduates. That was a goal shattered the second he pushes himself inside, anger soon swept away by tears as a single question barely reaches his ears.

                     What did he do wrong?

it’s a slap to the face and he realizes the mistake he’s made the second it registers and processes in his mind. Izumi Sena believes this to be his fault somehow and though he closes and locks the door behind him he finds the actions aren’t nearly long enough for him to form sentences and words before the boy grasps hold of his shirt, pulls himself up enough for their gazes to meet– two kinds of anguish swimming in pools of ice and violet.

 He finds he can’t lie. Not when he looks at him like that and though he tries to put some space between himself and the other it does little good when Izumi makes up his mind. He’s not letting him go and they stumble back until his back meets the far wall. He’s not leaving without an answer.

❝I’m going to be what ruins you if you don’t let go and leave me, Izumi Sena.❞ his tone is terse, strain held in the words that quiver and quake like brittle leaves in a harsh wind. He wants to melt the anguish he’s caused, wants to right every wrong he’s put the boy through for weeks. 

❝You’ve already done that,❞ he spits venom and Akiomi’s eyes narrow. Dangerous and sharp it’s his turn to grasp ahold of the boy who dares to think this is the worst of it. 

Fingers catch fast and press against his face, sweep up into his hair as he holds him in place and for a moment fear yields to any anger he displaces onto Akiomi. His voice is a hiss, pained as he leans in, assertive and unyielding like the boy before him. 

❝You have no idea how fast I will ruin your future if I let this go on. I’m your teacher. You’re my student and if I give in to what I want you won’t last a month in the industry you’ve worked so hard to seal a place in. I love you, you foolish child.❞ His voice cracks and he leans down, his kiss firm, filled with anguish and passion. 

 It’s enough to still the boy, to feel moisture against his fingertips and the shuddering of a body that craves nothing but this. He knows that’s exactly what Izumi wants and it tears at him to be the one to ever hurt him when he wants nothing more than to see him smile. 

❝I love you. Do you understand?❞ his voice tears and cracks as he pulls back, lips so close they brush as he speaks, as he meets his gaze that mirrors the torn soul he holds in his hands. ❝I want nothing more than to guarantee your future. You’ve worked so hard to be something. Let me give that one gift to you.❞

❝I don’t want it,❞ a crass response, ruled by pure and raw emotion. ❝you think I can’t make that choice on my own? You think I’m not willing to try to fight for how I feel while you want to throw it away?❞ it’s a shrill yell, every bit of the banshee they tease Izumi at being. 

He tries to tear away, tries to shove and struggle. Akiomi’s not one to balk or break and it’s no surprise he ends up with his arms around the other’s frame, securing his front to his chest, to let the other struggle until be breaks into nothing but sobs and a shattered heart. 

❝Can you look at me and tell me you love me when I rob you of everything? Can you really blame me from trying to save you from throwing your life away for someone like me?❞ It arrives as a whisper and through anger and accusation it finally seems to sink past a swell of anger. 

❝You think I haven’t thought about that too? Why can’t I have you too? Why does it matter who I’m with?❞

They both know the answer and yet Izumi clearly yearns for a lie, the fairy tale. The happily ever after. 

❝I’ve done all I can to warn you, but your mind is made up, isn’t it?❞ 

Izumi looks up, and Akiomi feels his own resolve crumbling, chipped away by months upon months of falling for the one thing he shouldn’t fall for. 

❝For your birthday, all I wanted to do was to tell you I love you and…❞ he releases him,, catches Izumi’s hand in his own to pull it up towards his chest. ❝I wanted to ask you to risk everything as I want to. My job, my reputation at the academy. You wouldn’t be the only one to lose everything. You know that too, though. You’ve thought about it as I have. If you’re willing to be with someone like me then you need to realize what that means. If you do, then you’re welcome to stay.❞

They stand in silence for what seems to be a long time and with a huff, eyes puffy from crying he jerks his hand back, sticks his nose up high in the air in sheer defiance.

❝You owe me for ruining my birthday.❞ 

Despite knowing it’s true he smiles, hands easily pushing him forward and daring to be met with a look that could kill. 

❝I had every intention of celebrating your birthday with you until I realized it was too late. I’ve already made you a cake and if you’ll stay the night I’ll start making it up to you.❞ They’re some distance apart and yet he still holds his hand out for the other to take. ❝But understand, if you stay you’ve made your choice. It won’t matter if you leave me in the future, your reputation will always be plagued and ruined if you decide to be with me the way I want to be with you. Are you really ready to risk your hard work for that, Sena?❞ 

It’s clear he’s already made his mind up in kind. He’s tried to curb the flame, tried to bury how he feels for Izumi’s own sake. It’s evident he cares little about his career if it means having the chance to dance with the devil, but it seems the boy before him already knows what’s on the line. 

❝I won’t remind you again, push you away or treat you like this again. In turn, I hope you won’t regret this decision. My only regret is that I didn’t tell you sooner. You deserve the best and if you believe this is what the best is then please stay. If you don’t, I understand.❞

There isn’t a flicker of hesitation, not a moment of question as the youth reaches forward and takes his hand. It’s in those moments he realizes, perhaps for the first time, that he’s become more than a mentor to Izumi. He’s become his world. And just as easily, Izumi has become his. 

He thought today was going to be a good day. It was his birthday. The first birthday he’d get to celebrate with someone since he had left the model agency, his relationship with Makoto -and anyone he called a friend- broken into irreparable pieces.

he though he understood the magnitud of what they were doing; the consequence of their actions in the shape of dangers ahead, sacrifices they might have to make. He thought he understood and he thought he had took some distance from him. But he was wrong. he still fell in love, he still craved the contact and wished for the closeness. A plan to meet turning into hours of him waiting, the sweetness of lips a trap he couldn’t escape, the contact of hands a heat he wanted to be burnt by.

He loved him. To a point where he didn’t cared anymore if he had to risk the whole world just to have him. That he wished to be able to wake up in his bed every morning and to be loved thoroughly by him, until there was no part in him that wasn’t already his property.

A spiral of doom they were both caught to, he even forgot to worry, believing his feelings to be the same. How foolish he was -and how easy was that shown to him, the subject of his affections suddenly ignoring all contact and steering away from danger.

The birthday he had hoped to spend together for him turned into a grim reminder of his own loneliness, of how dispensable he was, not even worth the love of one man. As the day went by his own dark feelings taking over, he was desperate the moment he reached his door -unscheduled, unplanned, unwanted. He knew he was going to be kicked out, he knew he’d get nothing from trying but his heart screaming for him to try it.

He slammed the door with his hands until he heard the locks coming undone in the other side and stormed into the room, a rainfall of tears threatening to overcome him, body shaking like a leaf. What had he done wrong? What could he do better? Don’t leave him behind. Don’t abandone him. he can do better... He pulls him close... he interrogates him, spitting his thoughts before he even has time to process them, noticing all the things he has wanted to say but haven’t been able to. And he holds his breath.

He’s told he is loved, and his thoughts go wild. He struggles in the sudden hold of warm arms and whimpers weakly when he realizes he can’t break free -that he doesn’t want to break free. He’s comfortable in his hold -so much he can’t help but want to be there forever, and the tears soon dry out.

His eyes are red from crying -he can tell from the aching in them- when he finally looks up pleading for an answer. Yet refusing to hear any but the one he wants. He is still a child, believing in fairy tails and happy ever afters, but he is not ignorantly diving into it.

And when he gets the chance for it, he reaches out to that hand without hesitation. he loves him, probably in the same way he is loved, and he can’t agree to the faked justice that insists he shouldn’t be allowed to love him.

“I love you” he whispers, eventually leaving the hand to go for a hug, to plead for a kiss. to cross once more the boundary that has been weak in stopping them, probably from the very start. 

[welldamnsatoru]

I’d never hurt you// Shawn Mendes

This is part 2 to ‘you might need to buy another lock’- If you haven’t read the first part... GO READ IT!!!

I was not happy. At all. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, an endless blue and the sun was shinning down on our backs as we walked down to the training ground. If you haven’t worked out why I’m not in the best mood, I’ll repeat it again. Training ground.

I wasn’t keen to be drenched in water and lightening bolts fired my way. Especially since all I could fight back with was my own two hands. Moments like this made me wish I had another God for a parent. 

I sigh as we begin to slip into pairs, each group heading to an area of training where they would battle off using their abilities and- luckily if you were me- use of a shield 

In a few short seconds, I’m left alone with no partner, starring at the ground as embarrassment creeps up my neck.

“Y/n, you’re with me.” 

I look up, startled at the sudden attention. Secretly I was hoping that there wasn’t enough pairs so that I was able to go back to my cabin, or the library. 

Peyton’s walking towards me with a grin on her face. “Watch out with him, you just might get burnt.” She snickers as she passes, heading towards her designated area.

My eyebrows scrunch in confusion at her words. Then a heated palm touches my arm gently and I understand what she meant.

“Guess we’re partners huh?” Shawn tilts his head as he looks down at me, his height towering over my small frame.

“I guess so.” I shrug, this could be worse. I could have been with Peyton who wouldn’t have stopped until I was a block of ice.

Shawn falls in step beside me as I make my way to the crates on the side of the grassy training area. Unlatching the lock- my eyes flicking to Shawn’s at the ironic moment- I pull out my shield, the gold metal cold against my fingers.

When I look back at Shawn, he’s still standing there rocking back on his heels with no weapon in his grip.

“No shield?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t need it.” he smirks, my heartbeat speeding up at the way his eyes sparkle with laughter at my nervous demeanor.

“I don’t know whether I should take offence to that or not.” I hum, Shawn leading us to the corner of the field where not many people were located.

“You shouldn’t. I‘m weaker when I’m holding something in a fight.” His smirk is gone, a cold look upon his face. I feel my palms start to sweat as he raises his hands, two bright orange fireballs appearing.

“Oh shit,” I whisper, my nerves going haywire at the sight of Shawn in front of me.

“Just,” He pauses, holding my gaze. “try to avoid where I throw.” His stance seems threatening, like he was ready to burn me to the ground, yet his eyes were almost pleading with me. Please don’t get hurt. 

At camp, we had two very strict rules over training. One was train like it was a real fight and the other was train until someone taps out- or in some cases knocked out.

I shake my head, trying to get rid of the fluttering feeling in my stomach and I grin, I wasn’t going to go down with out a fight. All I had to do was keep on my toes.

“Bring it.” A fireball is thrown straight towards me and I narrowly miss it, the heat singeing the hair on my arm.

He chucks another one and I reflect it with my shield, the flame landing on the grass near me and the small patch burns before a small sprinkler emerges from the grass and puts it out.

Thats it! I grunt as he chucks two at the same time and I just barely dodge them. I edge more towards the grass where the sprinkler appeared and peer over my shield to meet his eyes.

“Is that all you’ve got?” I taunt, my subconscious warning me that this could potentially kill me if I mess it up.

“You want me to kick it up a notch?” He chuckles, the fire in his palms burning brighter, reflecting an orange glow onto his face.

“Hit me.” My eyes widen in surprise as he sends flame after flame at me, all successfully landing off my shield until the grass around me is burning, smoke wafting into the air in grey clouds.

As the sprinkler douses the flames, I leap over the damp grass that’s slowly gaining more liquid to face Shawn. For a moment we circle each other, the flames all burnt out into a large puddle.

Then I have him just where I want him- his back towards the mass of water. He raises his hand, about to shoot another fireball at me but I strike first. With all my strength I throw my shield at him, the metal hitting him right in the chest and the impact has him stumbling back. 

I don’t waste a minute, running at him to shove him into the water surrounding him. My shoulder collides with his chest as I reach him, my weight forcing him back until he lands with thud on the soaked grass. He starts to steam as the water evaporates at the temperature of his body. 

I grab his arms quickly, climbing on top of him to hold his arms in the water. I’m careful not to touch his burning palms as I watch them hiss- the water stopping him from producing a blaze.

“Tap out.” I whisper, my eyes meeting his brown irises. He’s looking at me with surprise written all over his face. 

He doesn’t say a word as I keep his hands pressed into the water, the moisture soaking into his shirt.

I begin to feel uncomfortable at the position we’re in, me sitting on his stomach as water soddens the material covering my legs- and he’s still starring at me with the same glint in his eyes. 

“Tap out,” I repeat louder, finally snapping him out of the daze he was in and he taps his left hand twice on the ground.

I don’t get up. I can’t. His gaze has me captive and although I’m basically sitting in a small lake I don’t feel the cold, his heat consuming me.

Then he’s smiling at me. Not the usual smirk but a full blown smile that has his eyes crinkling and his perfect white teeth shining up at me.

“Are you laughing at me?” I scold, releasing his arms and he props himself up on his elbows as I sit up straight. 

“No,” He grins, his eyes flicking over my body before meeting my eyes again.

“You are!” I hit his shoulder, his head tilting back as he laughs.

“I just wasn’t expecting you to shove me into a mini pond.” Shawn bites his lip, my cheeks blushing in response.

“You probably would have killed me if I didn’t.” I murmur, pulling myself to my feet. I reach a hand out, offering to help him up.

His hand slips into mine, my eyes widening in surprise at the normal temperature of his skin. He’s up and inches away from me, a constant heat radiating from his body.

“I wouldn’t have hurt you,” Shawn says softly, his thumb running over my jawline as his hand rests on my exposed neck.

I shiver from the sensation, my eyes closing for a moment. When I open them again he’s moved away to pick up my shield. His eyes meet mine for a brief moment, the smirk reappearing.

He passes me the slightly dented metal and I grab it, never breaking his gaze.

“I’d never hurt you.” He’s gone, walking off into the tress that lead to the cabins and I’m left standing there, the wind finally able to chill my bones.

[severelybabykryptonite]

Speed Dating by SBK

A/N:  3rd installment for the Richonnefics’ Date Night Series.  A request by @darknessstartstorise.  Hope you like it.

Michonne glances around curiously at the luxurious hotel as Sasha pulls forward and checks in with the valet.  She wonders for the tenth time why she allowed her best friend to convince her to attend this event.  She knew it was a bad idea from the start especially since Sasha was being a bit impulsive after her break up with Abe.  She tries her best not to remember the phone call she got from a clearly upset Sasha informing her that Abe had decided to go back to his ex-girlfriend, Rosita.  I never liked him much anyway.

She is brought back to the present as her car door is opened and a hand is reaching inside to assist her.  She accepts graciously and waits for Sasha to join her before the two walk inside.  “I really don’t think we should’ve signed up for this.”

“Would you relax a little?  Besides we’ve paid the fees, we’re here, and we’re going to make the best of it,” Sasha determines.

Michonne takes a deep breath and follows her friend, admiring the hotel’s décor and greenery.  She glimpses down for a quick look at her lacy blue dress and natural colored pumps, wondering if she should check her make up one last time.  She elbows Sasha at her side.  “Ladies room.”

Her friend gives a curt nod in agreement and they round a corner, following the signs.  Several minutes later, they arrive at their event for the evening, the room already teeming with music and conversation.  They check in, retrieve their name badges, and make their way to the bar.  They’d barely taken their first sip before the entrance doors were closed and a succession of bell rings ensued to get their attention.

The hostess is a red head and looks familiar to Michonne as she visited the web site after Sasha announced she’d signed them up.

“Welcome to tonight’s event.  My name is Ana and I’ll be your host.”  She takes a deep breath and yells excitedly, “Let’s do some speed dating!”  She goes on to recite the rules, instructing the females to remain at their assigned table as the men would be the ones to move from one to the other.  “Please feel free to use the index cards available at your tables.  They are just conversation openers if you need them.”

Michonne looks around the room quickly, trying to size up the men for Sasha.  She already knew she wouldn’t have any luck at a place like this.  The things we do for friends.  She was just about to tap said friend’s shoulder when she glimpses a pair of bright blue eyes looking her way.  She averts her eyes, looking to her opposite side to see if the guy could possibly be checking someone else out.  She giggles to herself and wonders if he’s into guys since there were only a couple of males to her left.

The host instructs them to find their table so the dating could begin.  Once the ladies are seated, the lights are slightly dimmed, the music is softened, and the bell rings three times singling the commencement of speed dating.

Michonne’s first date is tall, dark skinned, and very handsome.  He takes a seat and immediately goes into detail about himself.  She tries to remain attentive but finds herself searching the room for those blue eyes.  The lapse from her date signals that she should start sharing about herself but the bell rings again, signaling a change.  She smiles apologetically at her date, unbelieving that he spent the entire allotted time talking about himself.

The next guy is shorter, older, and balding but at least he offers to hear about her first.  She includes him as well and honestly loves his conversation but it all ends as the bell chimes again.  She gets a bit annoyed, wondering how people are actually supposed to connect in such a limited time frame.  She glances down the way to check on Sasha and isn’t surprised to see that her friend appears to be enjoying herself.

Date #3 is muscular, an ex-football player and not looking for any ties, just a hook up.  She draws a blank and quickly checks her note cards to garner something to say in response.  She notices the other ladies actually scribbling notes on the cards and cringes because she didn’t know they were supposed to do that.  She gets slightly flustered when the silence continues to grow.

“Look if you’re not into it, just say so.  Although I could show a beautiful woman like you the time of your life.  I bet you taste like……..”

DING!  DING!  DING!  Michonne physically deflates with relief as the bell rings, interrupting him promptly.  She gives him an uncertain smile and he lifts to a stand and mouths, “Call me.”  He drops a business card on the table and moves on.

Her mind is twirling and she cannot wait for this night to end.  She makes plans to let Sasha know that under no circumstances would she subject herself to this ever again.

Date #4 sits down slowly and she notices the black t-shirt first underneath a navy jacket.  She looks up a bit further and tries to contain her smile.  Blue eyes.  She zooms in on his name badge.  Rick.

“We really don’t need those cue cards do we?”  He asks in a deep, slow, southern drawl.

She gives a slight shake of her head and allows the cards to drop to the table.  “I’m Michonne.”  She cringes as she realizes she was wearing a name badge as well.

“Thank you.  I was wondering how you pronounced it.  That’s a uh….beautiful name.”  He pauses.  “I know this is speed dating but I really don’t wanna rush anythang with you.”

Michonne tries her best to keep her cool.  How is he saying all the right things or have I just been this deprived of male attention? “That bell will be ringing before we know it.  I’m an attorney.”

“Cop.”

“33.”

“35.”

“Divorced.”

“Me too.  One kid.”

“Me too.  One kid that is.”

“Didn’t really wanna be here tonight.”

She laughs.  “Me either.”

“But now I’m glad I came.”

“Me too.”  She hesitates.  “So how’d you hear about this event?”

“I didn’t.  Friend of mine signed me up.”

She laughs again.  “That’s something else we have in common.”

“Your friends interfering in your love life too….or lack thereof?”

“Something like that.  You live here in Atlanta?”

“About 30 minutes away.  You?”

“Been here for almost 10 years now.”

“You like it?”

She nods.  “Sometimes I wish for a slower pace.  I’m originally from Columbus so….”

The bell rings loudly but Rick takes his time moving to the next table.  He lingers and is practically pushed aside by Date #5 who spends his time talking about the rudeness of Date #4.  Michonne half listens, allowing her eyes to find Rick.  As if he can sense her gaze, he looks up and smiles.

Rick’s Date #5 reminds him they’re on restricted time and asks him right off if he is looking to get married and have kids.  He frowns slightly and glances at Michonne again.  “Not…particularly.”

“Are you even paying attention?”  His date asks.  “Why’d you come out tonight if you’re not looking for a long lasting relationship?”

He looks her over, taking in her wheat colored hair and sad green eyes.  He immediately feels remorse but can’t help being honest with her.  Isn’t honesty the best policy?  “Actually a friend signed me up.  This isn’t really my thang.”

“Are all the men assholes tonight?”

“Beg your pardon?”  He steals another glance at Michonne.

“Not only are you wasting my time but you’re checking out someone else when you’re supposed to be talking to me!”  She grabs her drink and douses him with it before grabbing her purse and storming out of the room.

The bell chimes more than three times and the lights are brightened again.

Ana apologizes profusely to Rick, grabbing some napkins to dab his face and clothes.  He shakes his hands free of moisture and gives Michonne the most dazzling smile she has ever seen on a man.  She smiles right back, relishing in her racing heart and elevated breathing.  She hasn’t been this excited about anything, let alone a man, in a long, long time.

They continue with Date #6, Rick finally arriving at Sasha’s table.  She smirks and says, “I noticed that smile you gave my friend Michonne down there.”

“You’re the friend who signed her up for this?”

“I am.  So what’s your purpose here tonight?  A hook up?  If so, keep looking coz my girl is not like that.  She didn’t even wanna be here tonight.  I…..”

Rick cuts her off.  “Me either.  A friend signed me and Daryl up and then ditched us.”  He looks down the way to notice Daryl talking with Michonne.

“Daryl’s your friend?”

“He is.”  Rick notices the glance Sasha gives his friend.  “Well….are you interested in my buddy Daryl?”

The dates finally come to an end and Michonne makes a beeline for the bar to refresh her drink while Ana gives even more instructions.  Sasha makes her way to her side with Rick and Daryl in tow.  She holds up one finger as an indicator for the gentlemen to give her a minute then gives her full attention to her friend.

“So I’ve committed you to another event.”

Michonne groans.  “Sasha please.  No more.  I’m really ready to go”

“Even if Rick wants to take you out for dinner?”

Michonne swallows nervously.  “Did he say that or are you playing matchmaker?”

Sasha lifts to her full height and leans in.  “Listen Daryl and Rick are friends.  Rick’s interested in you and I’m interested in Daryl.  Need I say more?  Rick and I are kinda helping each other out.  It’ll be a double date.”

Michonne allows her eyes to travel from the man’s brown cowboy boots to jean clad legs, racing over what she’d seen earlier and arriving at his face.  She tells herself that he is not bad looking at all and admits that she wants to know more about him. 

Meanwhile, Rick is sizing her up as well taking in the long dreadlocks, the exquisitely made up face, smooth looking skin, ample breasts and tiny waist encased in blue lace, toned legs, and high heel shoes.  He waits nervously wondering if he misread their interaction.  Maybe she’s not interested after all.

Sasha approaches them, arm in arm with her friend.  “We’d be delighted to have dinner with you gentlemen.”

Rick smiles while Daryl stutters.  The former opted not to mention anything in case they were rejected.

“Dinner?”  The latter asks.  “With us?”

“Well if you have other plans,” Sasha leads.

“No.  No ma’am.  It’d be my pleasure,” Daryl states.  He steps to Sasha cautiously.

She smiles.  “Good.  Let’s get one thing straight before we leave.  Don’t call me ma’am.”

“Yes ma…..I mean.  Yeah ok.”

Rick and Michonne meet in the middle and fall in step behind their friends.

“So did tonight meet your expectations?”  He asks.

“More like exceeded them,” she answers.

“Well I hope that’s a good thang.”

“It’s good.  Very good.”

[bloomsoftly]

the color of lightning, pt. 4

Darcy/Pietro, rated T

read: part 1, part 2, part 3

Agent Darcy Lewis is called in after the Battle of Sokovia to help identify the bodies of the deceased. Except, it turns out, one of them isn’t quite dead.

it’s also on AO3. comments and kudos make the world go ‘round. ;)

this is a mirror fic to @paranoidwino‘s Life is Unfair (which is amazing and you should read it!). so many thanks to my bb, @ragwitch, for reading this over and cheering me on when i was ready to give up forever.

“Oh my Thor,” Darcy groaned, letting her head fall forward to slam against her desk. “Why is it that superheroes are allergic to paperwork?”

A slight displacement of air had her raising her head; she'd heard it often enough in the last several months to recognize the sound of her favorite speedster zooming to and fro. Sure enough, he was standing in front of her desk, looking down at her in concern. At least she thought that's what it was; a bright yellow sticky note had attached itself to the right side of her face, marring her vision.

Before she could reach up to pry it off her skin, a gentle hand did it for her. His calloused fingertips brushed lightly against her temples, and Darcy’s eyes closed of their own accord. Immediately, she forced them open—way to be totally chill about your crush, Darce—but Pietro wasn't looking at her. The uneasy twinge in her stomach was not disappointment, she told herself.

“Find a way to get the Avengers to do their god damned mission reports,” he read aloud, waving the sticky note in the air in front of her face. “That's a lot of exclamation marks, mila. Is everything alright?”

She could practically feel her blood pressure rising again at the reminder. “No, not really. A crucial part of my job is collating the mission reports from every member of the Avengers. And everyone blows me off, even though they're really important. The reports were the only reason we were able to quash those rumors that Wanda was responsible for leveling an entire school in Mexico City, if you'll recall.”

“I remember, Darce. You did such a good job in salvaging that disaster.” His eyes were warm and grateful as he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. And wait, when had he gotten so close? Damn Sokovians and their lack of personal bubbles. Though Wanda didn't seem to have that problem. Nope, now was not the time to be following that line of thought.

“Thank you.” She smiled and waited for his hand to drop from her hair. It didn't, and they stood there long enough for anticipation to coil in her belly, unbearably tense and heavy. It was all she could do not to drop her eyes to his lips, and she struggled against the urge to raise herself onto her tiptoes and press her mouth to his. But he didn't seem to be having the same problem; his gaze was steady and sure on hers. And she’d be damned if that didn’t act like a bucket of water, immediately dousing the fire kindling in her belly.

With an icy tightness in her chest, she shifted backward. She needed space, to let herself breathe again. His hand finally dropped, but instead of satisfaction at the distance, she just felt bereft. He eyed her curiously, but didn't move other than to draw his hand back to his side. The moment was on the verge of becoming unbearably awkward, and she couldn’t stand the thought of him having to let her down gently. So, she continued her rant. “It’s just—I’m not sure what Coulson was thinking. I don’t think I’m the best fit for this job, if I can’t even get the team to turn in their paperwork.”

She raked a hand over her face in frustration, trying to will away the headache that was blooming at the back of her eyeballs—no, those weren’t tears, it was just dusty in her office, that was all—when suddenly he was crowding into her space again. With gentle hands, he coaxed her hands away from her face. When she still wouldn’t look at him, he used his index finger to tip her chin up.

His worried frown deepened when he saw the moisture in her eyes. “Darcy, I had no idea things were this bad,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “What can I do? Please tell me what I can do.”

“Nothing,” she sniffled. “I’m just having a bad day, that’s all.”

Pietro scoffed, the sound reverberating through her body from where her head was pressed to the crook between his chest and his shoulder. She tried very hard to ignore his well-defined muscles, which flexed every time he stroked tender fingers through her hair. She completely failed, but at least she tried. “That can’t be true. If it’s upset you so much, it can’t be nothing. Please tell me what I can do.”

(read more link here)

Sniffling and lightly butting her head against his chest one last time—and desperately hoping there wasn’t snot leaking out of her nose or something equally disgusting—she pulled away and swiped at her eyes. “Unless you can suddenly convince the rest of your team to turn in their paperwork on time—and completed—like civilized human beings, I don’t think so,” she muttered.

There was nothing to say to that, but he took her hands between his and squeezed. It was a brief touch, just long enough to feel the pressure, but her hands were burned with the heat of his and tingled even after he’d let her go. She ignored the sensation, shaking her head slightly as if to erase the memory of his skin. It wasn’t enough, and she took a step back to clear her head.

Pietro opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “You have more important things to worry about.” His expression darkened and he shook his head, but she ignored it. “Were you just stopping by to rustle my papers, or did you need something?” Her grin was half-hearted at best, but he let it slide.

“I was going to see if you’d like to take a break for lunch, because I know how hard you’ve been working lately.” Jerking his chin at her massive pile of papers, he added, “But I didn’t realize you’d be this busy.”

With a regretful shake of her head—lunches with Pietro were some of her favorite parts of the week, and not because of the food—Darcy pouted and confirmed, “Oh, Piet. I wish I could, but—”

He waved away her apology. “No, mila, do not worry. I can see how much work you have. Another time, yeah?” At her quick nod, he grinned. “Perfect. Try not to work too hard. And I’ll see what I can do about my lazy teammates.” And then he was gone, her hair fluttering in his wake. For a second she thought she felt a slight pressure against the side of her head, but shook it off. She must’ve been imagining it.

Staring down at the mound of work that awaited for her, she groaned. Time to roll up her metaphorical sleeves and get to work. Despite her complaining to Pietro, she wasn’t actually someone who gave up in the face of hard work. And with that determination in mind—a little more boring when it was paperwork at stake, rather than evacuating a small desert town or preventing a world-ending, cataclysmic event, it was true—she turned on some music and picked up a piece of paper. It was going to be a long day.

A couple of hours later, another gust of wind had her looking up from her significantly-reduced stack of papers. But Pietro wasn’t there this time. Instead, there was a sandwich and chips at one end of her desk. A bright orange sticky note was stuck to the top. Don’t forget to fuel that beautiful brain of yours, it read in his hasty scrawl.

She stared at it for a moment too long, wondering how much shit she’d catch from Clint if she kept the sticky note as a keepsake. Deciding she didn’t care, Darcy smoothed the little piece of paper between her fingers and slid it into the drawer of her desk. No one even had to know it was there. Before she could get immersed in her work again, she shot a quick text to Pietro. Thank you.

It buzzed with a reply within seconds. She stifled a snort at the thought that he was using his super speed for something as mundane as a text message. The giant dork.

Anything for you, mila. And yeah, he was a dork, but he was a dork with charm. Somewhat grumpily, she shook her head and tucked her phone away. Out of sight, where she wouldn’t cave and find more reasons to text him. She was gone enough over him as it was, honestly. It didn’t help that he knew exactly what to say in order to make her melt, either. Actually, she hoped he didn’t know, because that would mean he knew about her crush. And that would be incredibly awkward. Wanting to escape her own thoughts, Darcy shut off her brain and dove into her paperwork with a level of enthusiasm that was entirely unnecessary.

The rest of the day passed in a boring blur of signatures and filing and online forms, which to be honest was perfectly fine with Darcy. The more excitement there was for the Avengers, the more work it generally meant for her. Not to mention that she spent hours and sometimes worried for the safety of her friends. So, no. She’d take the boring days anytime.

Still, she was dragging her feet the next morning when she headed for her office. She had a giant coffee in one hand, already in desperate need of caffeine. Her eyes were still a little fuzzy with sleep, which is why she blinked rapidly a couple of times when she reached her door. Because there was Captain America—Steve—waiting outside with a sheepish look on his face. “Hi, Darcy.”

“Hello,” she replied, drawing out the vowels. “Is there something I can do for you, Captain Rogers?”

“Just Steve, please,” he corrected, reaching up to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. The other hand clutched a small set of papers. Her heart skipped a bit. Surely this didn’t mean— “And I’m really sorry I didn’t get these to you on time. I hope you know it doesn’t reflect on my respect for you at all. I’m just not always the best at remembering to do my paperwork.” His cheeks were stained a charming red, and that was the only reason she didn’t call him out on his little fib. That, and she wanted to encourage good behavior.

“That’s alright, Steve. I appreciate you bringing them to me.” She took them from him, then hesitantly added, “If you want, I can send you the electronic versions next time? I just wasn’t sure—” she trailed off, not knowing how to say it gracefully.

“How caught up on modern technology I am?” He chuckled, and it was her turn to blush. “I’m sure I can figure it out, or someone can help me. Thanks, Darcy.” Steve turned to go, then stopped. Half-pivoting back to face her, he said, “You know, you and Pietro make a good team.”

She sputtered, not knowing what to say to that, and he winked at her. Then he was walking away, whistling a cheeky little tune. With the sense that she'd just been trolled by Captain America, Darcy stood frozen in the hallway for a second. Finally, she shrugged and continued into the office, Steve's mission report gripped tightly in her hand. There was no way she was going to lose the damn thing after all this effort.

One Avenger down, she thought as she collapsed into her chair. Well, two, really. Surprisingly, Pietro was the most responsible person on the team when it came to turning in his reports, almost religiously so. And come to think of it, he usually brought Wanda’s with him. Generally speaking, the Sokovian twins did everything they could to make her job as easy as possible, both in the field and at base.

On a hunch, she went digging through her stack of paperwork. And sure enough, there they were: two mission reports from the Maximoffs. Which brought her total to three. And all of a sudden she was a lot better off than she'd been the day before, after a single conversation with a certain speedster. With a slightly-happier slurp of her coffee, Darcy booted up her computer.

Since the team wasn't deployed in the field today, Darcy was stuck with administrative work. Not that she wanted her friends to throw themselves into danger, but mission support was a lot more interesting than cleaning up the bureaucratic messes afterward. She let her mind drift as she waited for all the emails to come pouring in, trying not to think about the implication behind Steve’s words or the way her stomach twisted with anticipation for the next time she got to see Pietro. When she began to think of hypothetical ways to convince him to visit more often, she knew she needed a distraction.

The universe was clearly listening, because the first email in her overflowing inbox had her jaw dropping. She hastily set her coffee aside, attention fully captured by the name of the sender: Tony Stark. Resisting the urge to pinch herself—Tony didn't send emails, just like he refused to accept anything that was handed to him; he made other people do it for him—Darcy clicked on the email. Maybe it was spam, some kind of humorous scammer.

But no. It was an email from Iron Man himself. Abrupt and vague and completely annoying, which meant it was definitely written by Tony.

Here, short stack. I've turned in my report. Can you tell your little boy toy to lay off the pranks and the threats now? I've officially done what he wanted.

She read it twice, and still didn't know what he was talking about. But, sure enough, when she double-clicked on the attachment, there was his report. All filled out and everything (correctly, even!). She'd never known such a thing was possible, not when it came to the man in question. As she stared at his signature, she wondered whether this made her particularly good at her job or completely terrible.

Without even bothering to respond to Tony, she pulled out her phone to text Pietro. What on earth did you do to Tony? He just turned in his report!

There was no immediate text in reply this time; instead, Pietro came to visit in person. The only warning she received was the rustling of her papers, and then Pietro was leaning over her shoulder, examining the email from Tony. “I knew that would work!” he crowed, as if he couldn't hear the pounding of her heart or see the flush in her cheeks. The smell of his cologne filled her nostrils, and all she wanted to do was drag him to bed and curl up around him for days, until his scent permeated everything she owned. Well, among the other things she wanted to do to him—with him—in bed.

Clearing her throat, she asked hoarsely, “What did you do to convince him? What pranks and threats is he talking about? Should I prepare myself for revenge?” She could feel him shift his head to look at her, but didn't dare turn her head.

“Trade secrets, mila.” Was it just her, or was his voice a little husky, too? “All you need to know is that Tony will be turning in his reports on time from now on.” With one hand draped across the back of her chair and the other braced against the desk, his body bracketed hers, creating a cocoon with his body heat. He was warm and tempting, and chills broke out along her neck as his breath ghosted against it with every word he spoke. She was in deep trouble. Such deep trouble.

“You are making my life so much easier, Piet.” Unable to resist the temptation, she leaned into the crook of his elbow a little as she spoke, tilting her head back to make eye contact.

His eyes were warm and earnest. “It's nothing, Darcy. I'd do anything to keep you happy here.”

“Anything?” she teased, already thinking of a number of mundane things she knew he wouldn't want to give up. His crappy Sokovian coffee, for one. His speed, of course. The fancy new Avengers uniforms they’d recently acquired…

But his gaze never changed, never shifted from hers. “Anything.”

There was something in his eyes, deep and still and steady. It was strange to see that in someone who was constantly moving. She was frozen, caught in his gaze, and she got the sense that he was waiting for her. To do what, she wasn’t sure. And whatever it was, he wasn’t saying; she wanted to be annoyed, but instead she was caught in his orbit, hanging there helplessly.

After a silent minute or two, the air shifted. It grew heavy with tension—the kind that sent a rush of desire coursing through her body, shifting in her lungs until her breathing was soft and shallow. They were on the verge of something, some kind of change that had her skin prickling with anticipation.

She stared up at him and licked her her suddenly dry lips, swaying back into the heat of his body. His eyes never dropped from hers, but his hand fell from the back of the chair to curve around her shoulder. The heat of his hand soaked through the light silk of her blouse, and fire crept along in the wake of his thumb as it stroked a semi-circle along the bone of her shoulder. She memorized the curve of its arc—she’d been branded, for all that no one would ever see the mark.

A look of mild irritation swept across his face, only to be immediately replaced by an expression of nervous determination. Pietro opened his mouth to say something, and the atmosphere shimmered with the weight of it, ready to break with his words—only to shatter as the clanging of an alarm sounded throughout the facility. The Avengers were being called to assemble.

Sheer frustration overtook Pietro’s face, tugging the corners of his lips down into a dark frown. “Jebati!” he spit furiously, looking away. But by the time he’d turned back to her, the frustration was gone from his face. She could still feel it, though, simmering beneath the surface. “I’m sorry, Darcy. I have to go.” His words were gentle, and so were the fingers he brushed across her cheek.

Before he could zip away, she reached up and caught his fingers with hers. “Be safe,” she ordered, letting the two words hang with the weight of all the other things she wouldn’t let herself say.

His fingers squeezed hers, just once, before he pulled away. “I always am. I’ll come back to you in one piece, don’t worry.”

Long after he’d gone, she stood braced against her desk, struggling to breathe. I’ll come back to you, he’d said. And it hadn’t been a come on, either; his face was was perfectly sincere, his gaze open. Despite what she’d thought in the hospital, Darcy had never—not once in the six months they’d been in the Avengers facility—seen him flirt with anyone. No one except her.

She sagged into her chair, feeling like an idiot. In her obsessive dedication to protecting herself from getting hurt, she’d overlooked the obvious. All those times Pietro came over for lunch, or made her job easier, or stroked her hair or touched her hand, he hadn’t been doing it out of gratitude, or from a sense of obligation because she’d saved his life. She’d been so blind. He cared about her as much as she did him, she’d stake her life on it.

I’ll come back to you, he’d said. And that look in his eyes, the way his fingers had lingered against her cheek, his palm on her shoulder. The way he’d blackmailed his teammates just to make her job easier. It all made sense. Clint was going to make so much fun of her for this, she knew. Whether it would be because she’d actually fallen for him or because it had taken her six months to figure out that Pietro felt the same, she didn’t know. She wasn’t looking forward to his gloating, though.

She was still standing there, cataloging every interaction she’d ever had with Pietro and trying to figure out everything she’d missed, when Maria knocked on her office door. “Darcy, I need you up in ops—are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” A little dazed maybe, but she was okay. Shaking her head to clear her fuzzy brain, she mustered a smiled and added, “Sorry. On my way now.”

With one last skeptical look, Maria said, “Alright. As long as you’re sure. The team is en route now, so you’ve got a minute or two. But no longer than that.”

“I’m fine, honest.”

And she was. Luckily, the team was, too. The mission—an extraction of hostages being held in a small country whose government didn’t have the infrastructure to manage it themselves, at least not safely—went off without a hitch. In no time at all, it seemed, they were on their way back to base.

Suddenly, Darcy had to figure out what to do with her revelation. Did she bury it, or wait for a better time, whenever that might be? Why had Pietro waited so long to say something? Had he changed his mind?

The questions—some logical, some less so—whirled through her brain so quickly she was giving herself whiplash. She lost track of time, running a finger around the brim of her coffee cup over and over. Until, suddenly, a small, gentle hand covered hers. She looked up with a gasp.

It was Wanda. Which meant that the team was back. The prospect of seeing Pietro sent a strange mixture of excitement and unadulterated terror coursing through her. His sister stared at her quizzically, like she was trying to put the last pieces of a puzzle together. “Ah, so you’re finally ready,” she finally said, as mysterious as always. Her stare changed, morphing into pure curiosity. “What changed, I wonder?”

“What?” Darcy asked stupidly. She felt like they were putting on a play, except only Wanda knew the lines.

And then the elevator dinged, and she knew she wasn’t ready to face Pietro, not in a group of people who would hear their every word. A group of people who’d clearly known about his feelings longer than she had. All of a sudden, Steve’s teasing, Tony’s jokes, and Clint’s eye rolls all made so much more sense.

“I can’t—not here,” Darcy sputtered, backing away.

Wanda’s smile shifted again. Now it was gentle and understanding. She sometimes had a hard time with larger groups of people, too. “Go,” she said to Darcy. “I will tell him.”

What Wanda was going to tell him wasn’t clear, but Darcy was out of time to ask questions. With a jerky nod, she fled.

There was a knock on her door less than an hour later. It was Pietro; not that she'd expected anyone else. He'd taken the time to change before he'd come over, clearly, because he wasn't wearing his uniform anymore. But his hair was still wet and dripping onto his henley, and her heart skipped a beat at the thought of him rushing straight to her apartment once he'd gotten clean.

He looked down at her with a piercing gaze. She felt like he'd split her open and was staring straight into her soul, until he finally quirked his lips and asked, “Can I come in?”

She smacked the heel of her hand against her forehead and moved out of the way, mumbling, “Oh my god, of course you can.”

They stood in her living room awkwardly for a second before she blurted, “Can I get you anything? Water? Wine? I think I might have some of Nat’s vodka stashed away if you—”

“Darcy,” he said, cutting her off gently and taking her hands in his. “I'm fine. Can we sit down, maybe?”

Nerves had robbed her of words, so she simply nodded. Together they walked to the couch and sat facing each other; his hands never let go of hers, and their fingers rested, entwined, on the cushion between them.

Clearing his throat, Pietro began, “Wanda said that—well, that you might—be ready. To talk about…everything.” His voice trailed off at the end, and there was a faint blush staining the tips of his ears. It was the most adorable thing she'd ever seen.

And then his words caught up to her, and she finally understood what Wanda had meant. “Yes,” she answered, wanting to say more but her throat clogged around the words.

With that single word, Pietro settled. The blush faded, and his self-confidence came back. He sat taller, and his eyes were clear and steady on hers. “I’m in love with you,” he said clearly, simply, like they were the only words in the world that could possibly matter. And maybe it was true, because those five words sent her heart into overdrive. It was pounding so loudly that she could hardly hear herself breathe.

But if he could find the bravery to make his confession, then so could she. “I love you, too. I have for months.” And once the words started, they wouldn't stop. “I'm so sorry…all this time—”

Pietro was suddenly in her space, cupping her face lightly in his callused palms. He held her reverently, and it made the guilt writhing in her gut even stronger. “No,” he whispered, leaning in until he was close enough that his breath ghosted across her lips. “No, no, no. Don't apologize, mila. You weren't ready.”

She nodded, savoring the feel of his fingers on her skin and the way his heat radiated across the inch of space that separated their bodies. It wasn't enough. She wanted him closer. “I wasn't ready,” she agreed, reaching up to cup a hand at the nape of his neck. “But I am now.”

She exerted just enough pressure to keep him close as she closed the distance between them. Her mouth brushed against his lightly, worshipfully. He exhaled against her, shaky and frozen like he was afraid to make the wrong move.

Her hand shifted, reaching up to sift through his hair and tug. Not much, but enough to make him gasp. And then his lips were moving along hers desperately, his tongue sweeping in to tangle with hers. They lost themselves in it, exploring each other with eager hands and mouths, until Darcy felt like she was going to explode.

And then she was in his lap, rocking against him and making them both moan. It was too much, too overwhelming, and she leaned back. Just a little, but enough to slow them down. Pietro got the message immediately. He turned his head to press gentle, close-mouthed kisses along her jaw, waiting for their breathing to even out. “Wow,” he finally said, undisguised wonder dripping from the word as he muttered it against her skin.

“Yeah,” she agreed breathily. “Wow is right.”

“A little too fast?”

“A little,” she confirmed, shifting to press a kiss against his temple. He hummed at the contact, blissful and content.

“That's alright,” he said, sure and easy. His hands traced little designs up and down her back. Motions meant to comfort, not arouse. “We've got plenty of time.”

It was her turn to hum. “Yeah,” she agreed happily. “Yeah, we do.”

@magellan-88, since you asked to be tagged, here’s the last part :)

[bookwarm85-blog]

~Remote Controlled~

TITLE:Remote Controlled

CHAPTER NUMBER/ONE SHOT: One-shot

AUTHOR: bookwarm85

WHICH JAI/CHARACTER: Eric & Reader Wife

GENRE: Smut

FIC SUMMARY: Eric doesn’t like being told no and revenge is a dish best served...in public...

RATING: NSFW

WORDS: 2,291

NOTES/WARNINGS: Hello my lovelys, I hope you enjoy this little treat, never trust Eric...

If you are not and would like to be tagged in this or any of my future stories then let me know and I’ll add you to the tag list.

@thihaf @audasia25 @anditcametopass @iammarylastar @frecklefaceb @societalfailure @badassbaker@insertamazingwords  @ashtotes@oddsnendsfanfics @pathybo @shortstoryimagines @tigpooh67@virgosapphire79 @dahmousya @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @coralelizabeth

Enjoy!

You groaned loudly as your alarm sounded. You picked the clock up and threw it across the room; it wouldn’t be the first time you had to buy a new one because you “accidentally” broke it.

You wiped the sleep from your eyes and grin as you remembered all the devious things Eric had done to you last night, the telltale ache between your legs only made your grin wider.

You reluctantly began to pry Eric's arms from around your waist, which earned you a sleepy grunt and the arms tightened, bringing you closer to his hard, naked body as he placed open-mouthed kisses against your delicate flesh. You whimper as your head automatically tilted to give him better access.

“Eric,” your whine erupted from the back of your throat caused him to chuckle.

“Just like that baby…” He purred seductively.

“Eric, you know we have a meeting…” You gasped as he nipped at your earlobe.

“I know,” he murmured in a bored tone.

“Eric.” You warn him. He only snorts in reply. “Fine then,” you say and jab your elbow into his ribs which causes him to loosen his grip just long enough for you to slip out of his arms.

You grinned smugly as his angry expression, which quickly melted away into a heated smirk, he slowly licked his lips before his eyes travelled up and down your naked body.

“This meeting is important, you would think that the most “powerful” leader in Dauntless would understand that and be ready to go,” you remark offhandedly.

“I am always ‘ready to go’, Y/N,” he growled as he rolled out of bed and began to dress.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’ve grown...soft... since getting married,” you impishly said as you rummage through your closet for a fresh uniform.

You weren’t expecting to be pulled back against him, your body immediately melted against him. You feel the bulge pressing into the curve of your butt as he growled before taking a handful of your hair and pulled your head firmly to the side before biting your shoulder, causing your eyes to roll, then he tenderly licked the wound.

“I’m gonna make you pay for that,” he whispered in your ear before planting a soft kiss behind your ear. Your knees grew weak, then you turned to meet his liquid metal gaze.

He pulled back to give you a scowl before attacking your lips, sucking on your bottom lip before gently nibbling it before releasing it with a pop.

You couldn’t deny the little thrill of excitement that raced through you at his words, you giggled as he reluctantly let you go, then you disappear into the bathroom, you him  roar in frustration followed by a crash from the bedroom and nearly choked on your toothpaste.

You return to the bedroom to find Eric sitting on the bed all ready to leave. His hair was groomed to perfection and his piercings glint in the light.

You lifted your brow at him and he shrugged.

“I told you, I’m always ready.” His impassive expression gave way to a full smirk.

You notice the bright red underwear set lying next to him on the bed. You look at him questioningly.

“Wear these, it’ll give me something to look forward to,” he smiled. You return his smile with an approving nod.

--

“There have been reports of hostile activity in the Factionless sector, Erudite seems to think that they may be planning something. We’ve received some new data on the new serum they’ve been working on…” Max’s voice faded away as you felt a peculiar sensation between your legs.

You jolted for a moment and quickly regain your composure, quickly scanning the room to see if anyone else was affected by the sensation, and found that everyone else was paying attention to Max except...Eric.

A few moments later you are hit with another buzzing sensation between your legs, this time it was stronger and aimed towards your clitoris. You bit your lip to keep from groaning out loud, you once again scanned the table only to see Eric staring at you his mouth upturned in a small smirk. You narrowed your eyes when you were hit with another powerful vibration that had you crossing your legs.

You moaned loudly but disguised it as a cough.

“Y/N do you need to go the infirmary?” Max asked you, you quickly shook your head. “As I was saying…” He resumed his report.

You gritted your teeth and scowl at Eric, which only served to amuse him further. The vibrations grew and you had to lean back in your chair, you were grateful that no one could see your hips bucking against the vibrations under the table.

“I believe Y/N has some very interesting views on the serum Max.” Eric said in a amused tone.

If looks could kill, Eric would be on the floor, you kicked him hard under the table but he barely flinched. Your reward was an intense wave of pleasure as you neared an orgasm, you bit your lip and fanned yourself, a warmth flooding your entire body.

Your nipples tightened, and your whole body became alive with pleasure, your eyes flutter closed as you began to feel your orgasm approaching, your pulse quickens as you fight to keep control.

“Y/N!” Max called you name.

You opened your eyes to see everyone at the table staring at you, you take a deep shuddering breath and try to ignore the clenching of you inner muscles.

“Um, I think it’s a good serum” you squeak. “A ‘good serum’?” Max questions you with an annoyed look on your face.

You nod quickly as another wave hits you.

Your head snapped to Eric once again, a loud whimper escaping you as the strongest of the vibrations hit you, causing you to orgasm in front of everyone. You slammed your hands on the table as your hips work back and forth as you ride your orgasm out, your insides fluttering. Your whimpers began to die down as you felt moisture soak your panties.

You gave one final look to Eric, whose gray eyes were blown wide with lust. You stood shakily from your seat and walked over to him, grabbed his collar and pulled him to his feet.

“I need to discuss something privately with Eric,” you stated, already pulling Eric towards the other conference room.

As you slammed the door behind you, Eric opened his mouth to speak but you sealed your mouth to his before ripping the buttons open on his uniform shirt desperate to touch his naked skin, wanting to mark him, and ran your nails down his bare chest. He growled before grabbing you and pinning you against the door, his erection pressing firmly against your thigh as he grinded himself against you. Despite having an orgasm your center throbbed for his attention, your skin felt like it was on fire and only he could douse the flame.

You groaned as his mouth attacked yours, his tongue battling with yours for dominance as you ran your fingers through his hair before yanking it and jerking his head back. He groaned and hissed in pleasure.

“What did you do?” You question before biting his neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he purred as you licked the wound.

“You know what, I think you’re lying.” You growled before claiming his mouth again. You tucked your hand into the waistband of his pants and lightly trailed your fingertips down his semi-hardened length, he groans before breaking away from the kiss with a hiss of satisfaction.

“Are you lying to me baby?” You purr seductively before grabbing the back of his neck and bringing your teeth to the delicate flesh where the shoulder and neck meet, your bright lipstick leaving a perfect imprint of your full lips.

His lips buck in the air, a whine sounding from his throat as you chuckled ruefully and ran your fingers through his hair to muss it up, chuckling lightly at the annoyed look on his face.

“You know I don’t like it when you lie,” you say before claiming his lips in a swift kiss, undoing his belt and quickly slipping it from his belt loops. His mouth desperately seeks yours while you grab his hips and pull him to you and granted his tongue access to yours allowing  your tongue to tangle lazily with his.

His hands buried themselves in your hair before they ran down your back and gave the curve of your bottom  a firm squeeze. All the while, his mouth never left yours. You take his cue and jump into his arms. He takes your lips between his teeth with a half growl, half chuckle and walked the pair of you towards the table.

Your fingers made quick work of the buttons your shirt and bra, he let you down so that he could get rid of his clothes as well. You were both naked by the time you got to the table, where Eric placed you on the table quickly taking his place between your legs and burying himself to the hilt.

You both cried out and it took a moment for you two to regain control, he felt so good inside of you, his absence no longer mourned. You look into his intense eyes, the pupils blown and full of lust. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips and his tongue darted out to slip between your lips.

You hooked your ankles as he started to thrusting inside you, moaning loudly as each stroke ignited a new desire inside of you. Despite your previous orgasm, your body was more than ready for him and craved everything he had to offer.

“You feel so good, baby.” Eric mutters between his teeth. “I love touching you, I want to bury myself inside you and never leave.” He groaned out after a powerful thrust.

“Eric,” you moaned as you scratched at his back and bit his shoulder. His hips stuttered as you bit your way up his neck and stop at his ear.

“You need to be punished for lying to me,” you purred.

You  quickly flip him over so that you are now on top, Eric’s eyebrow piercing twinkled in the light as his eyebrows arched in surprise.

“So you aren’t allowed to touch me, your hands are to remain at your sides at all times, understood?” You questioned, his only response was a nod. “Good boy,” you praise with a smug grin.

You caressed his muscular chest before you resumed the pace he had previously set, adding a twist of your hips as you neared his tip. A loud grunt sounded from his lips as his eyes fluttered closed as you leaned back using his powerful thighs to steady yourself.

Just the fact that you had Eric on his back and completely at your mercy was nearly enough to send you over the edge. Eric was always in control, in all areas of his life he exercised restraint, but now he had relinquished control and nothing could have been sexiier.

“Open your eyes,” you commanded breathlessly, his eyes slowly open, his irises completely gone as he lost himself to the pleasure coursing through his veins. You wrap your arms around him as your pace quickened, no longer able to continue with the charade.

“I love you,” he whispered, the feeling his hot breath against your neck sent chills down your spine.

“I love you too,” you whimpered out, your hips rutting against his.

The tiny bubble that had grown in the pit of your stomach was ready to burst. You began to ride him in earnest desperation to see him flushed with the same ecstasy that was overtaking you. “Sit up.” You ordered. He quickly obliged.

His hips began bucking up against yours, your hands interlocked behind his neck while a pur emitted from him. You scratched as his nape as he took your lips in a ferocious kiss as you were thrown headfirst into your second orgasm of the day. Your body curled around him and his arms pressed you further against him and with shout he joined you in the foggy bliss of oblivion.

Tiny shudders wracked you as your muscles relax, with Eric nuzzling your cheek with a hum of contentment.

“Are you okay?” He inquired softly.

“Yes I am, but you won’t be,” you told him. “Why’s that?” He frowned.

You pull away to capture his gaze. “What happened during the meeting? What did you do?” You interrogated.

“Well, I may have used a connection of mine in Erudite,” he shrugs. “To do what?” You asked him with a puzzled frown.

Eric chuckles deeply before pressing a kiss to your forehead, you pull back with a grunt.

“To do what, Eric?” You questioned him once again.

“Let’s just say all of your panties have a new feature,” Eric teased. “Like what?” You grilled him.

“Built in vibrator.” He admitted.

You opened your mouth to speak but no words come out. Instead, you smirk at him.

“I’m very upset, but I have to admit it was very impressive,” you giggled, resting your head on his shoulder.

“We should get back to the meeting,” you reluctantly suggested. “Forget the meeting, I’d rather focus on the beautiful woman in my arms”, he replied. “Aww, the fearless leader has grown soft,” you teased him with a pout.

He pins you to the table his newly hardened erection pressing against your thigh.

“I’ll show you growing soft,” he quipped before pressing into you once again, you giggled, ready to lose yourself once again in the man you loved.

[jeremiahdowney]

I found a lost little girl at a Halloween attraction

God, I wish we hadn’t changed our Halloween routine last year.

For three years, ever since they have been old enough, we have done the same thing, go trick or treating in the village with some of my daughter’s school friends. Last year we decided to mix it up a little and try a local Halloween attraction. The girls are bit older now, so we thought we could up the scare factor.

We live in Yorkshire, England, and a manor house near us puts on an event each year. There is a spooky forest walk, a haunted maze, pumpkin carving the works. The highlight is the ghost tour, the house has a long and bloody history. Murders, assassinations, and suicides have all taken place there. Actors take you around the house and grounds to bring the macabre events to life. Tickets are expensive and limited, so we were really looking forward to it.

It is pitch black by five-pm at that time of year. It was a bleak, miserable day with driving rain and a biting wind. A small road takes you to the forlorn and uninviting gatehouse, with its carved stone gargoyles and high spiked wrought-iron fence.

A track then leads to the house through a dark and foreboding stretch of woodland, before opening up to provide the first vista of the manor house. A dark sentinel alone on its hill. A grey stone monolith, master of all it surveys from its lonely isolation. It has a haunting beauty, the type that drives men to murder and worse.

Scarecrows had been set up along the side of the track, each pointing the Halloween revelers to their fate, every head a carved and lit lantern of increasingly gruesome intricacy. I will say this now, we have grown blasé to the sight of a Jack-o-lantern, a symbol of candy and fun now. But here, on a bleak Yorkshire hillside, they instilled a primal fear. Their leering faces shifting and alive in their flickering candlelight.

In the short drive through the covering of the woods, the weather had changed dramatically. An eerie stillness had replaced the buffeting winds and, as is so often the case at this time of year, the ground had given up its moisture to form a thick mist that blanketed the earth reaching out with wispy tendrils and beginning to climb the trees and outbuildings.

The children sat in uncharacteristic silence and I wondered if this was a little much for Seven- and five-year-olds, a little much for me even. Still, once we made it to the parking area the mood changed. People were walking about in costume and the area glowed warmly with the light of hundreds of pumpkin lanterns.

We got out and blended straight in. I’m a traditionalist, so it’s a zombie costume every year for me. I say costume, but truly, all I do is cut up whatever clothes my expanding waistline have made too cozy and liberally douse them with fake blood. The girls dressed as a devil / witch, and as Elsa, with dia del muerto-style face paint. My daughters have eclectic tastes and are far too opinionated for their own good; they get it from their mother.

It was worth the steep ticket price. The girls carved pumpkins and the haunted maze was a blast. Everyone loves a hog roast, and there were hot, baked cinnamon apples.

The night was going great and everyone gathered for the ghost walk.

I was skeptical before the event, but I have to say being there, on that foggy Yorkshire night in such a bleak setting, really added to things. The actors were excellent, sometimes these things get hammed up too much, but they really nailed it. The stories were fascinating and gruesome in equal measure; people really can do the most horrific things to each other.

We were out of the house heading towards ‘the hanging cottage’ when my eldest whispered those fateful words that all parents dread on trips out. “Daddy, I need a poo.”

Going back to the house was a non-starter. It was too far, and we would miss the rest of the tour. We quickly headed into a thicket of trees at the side of the track. We could catch up to the group easily enough. We only went in a little way, just enough to get us out of sight of the group.

It was dark and tangled, I used my mobile phone as a torch, its meagre light allowing us to navigate. We finished and cleaned up, wet wipes are a parent’s best friend, and were about to head back to the group when I heard crying.

It was very close, just a little further into the woods. I took my daughter’s hand. “We’d better see what that is, in case someone needs help.”

The noise was easy to follow despite the oppressive overgrowth and we arrived at an arched gateway, part of an old crumbling wall. The gate itself hung crookedly from just one of its three hinges.

It was a small graveyard, presumably for manor house family members back in the day.

The tombstones were ancient, bent crooked as hags at all angles where the earth had moved and subsided over the years. The blanket of fog was so thick it covered our feet as we walked. At the far end, we could see a small figure behind one of the headstones. It was small, plain stone and unmarked, no engraved name to honor its resident corpse.

“Hello, are you okay?” I asked.

The figure turned, it was a little girl, about my daughter’s age. Her costume was excellent, old fashioned clothes, from the 1960s maybe. But it was the makeup that made it. Her skin was marble-white, her eyes ringed in black, and blood-red tear streaks ran down her cheeks. Across her throat an incredibly realistic slash with just the right amount of fake blood trickling from it.

She didn’t reply.

“Are your mummy or daddy here?” I asked again.

Nothing, she just looked down at the floor. I noticed she had on one of the wrist bands we all received on the way in. It had a space for writing a parent’s phone number on for just such an occasion.

“What’s your name little one?”

Still no reply.

“Can I look at your wristband please sweetheart, see if I can call your parents?”

She held up her arm, her skin was icy to touch when I held it to see the number clearly. Poor thing, I took off my jacket and draped it around her whilst I dialed. It was a landline number which worried me. The parents would have to be at home to take the call which would be impossible if they were here for the night.

The phone rang three times then

“Hello” croaked an old-sounding voice, a grandfather perhaps? The line was crackly and poor, reception not great in this remote location.

“Hi, can I just check I’ve dialed the correct number please, is this 01936 416428?” I wanted to make sure I was talking to the right person before giving out details of a lost child.

“Hello, can you speak up?” he asked. He sounded so old, not what I was expecting at all.

I repeated myself slowly and this time he confirmed I had called the right number.

“I’ve found a little girl who is lost. This was the number on her wristband. Are you missing your daughter or granddaughter?” I said.

“I don’t have a daughter, I don’t have any children” he replied.

“She’s about six or seven, all dressed for Halloween. Vintage 60’s clothes, and a slashed neck.”

There was a long pause, I thought he hadn’t heard me, and I was about to repeat myself when he started to speak.

“I didn’t…. It was an acci…. I never meant it to be like that, to happen that way.”

“Sir, is this your child?”

“She looked so perfect, I wanted her to be mine, but then she struggled. How did you know it was me? All those years, how did you find me now?”

I stood in stunned silence, my mind was reeling. I wasn’t sure what was happening, what I was hearing.

Suddenly, from behind us in the clearing the evocative hoot of an Owl and a flapping of wings. I turned, momentarily distracted, when I turned back the girl was gone.

My coat lay draped over the gravestone. Written on the previously unmarked stone in fresh blood was the name Sally Turnbull.

In my shock, it took a moment to register that the phone had gone dead.

I spent a panicked few minutes looking for the little girl, eventually conceding defeat. I took a photo of the gravestone before scooping my daughter onto my shoulders and running back to find the main group. Every time I tried to redial the man’s number the phone gave an engaged tone, as though the phone were off the hook.

The evening was drawing to a close anyway, so it wasn’t long before I was telling my wife about the incident in the car. My wife googled the name Sally Turnbull; she found an article from a few years ago in the local paper talking about the tragic and unsolved case of six-year-old Sally who went missing in 1967.

We agreed we should call the police, hoping that somehow, this was all some elaborate Halloween prank. They didn’t come out until the next morning, Halloween is a busy night for the police. They took a statement and I saw the annoyed look on their face when I pulled up the photo of the gravestone on my phone and it was unmarked stone. There was no name written on there.

They asked my daughter what happened and that didn’t help. She told them that she and daddy had been in the woods, so she could go to the toilet, but that she couldn’t hear the crying that I could. She said she didn’t see a little girl in the private cemetery, just daddy looking at a gravestone before putting his jacket on it.

The police gave me a lecture about wasting police time, but I insisted they took down the number I had dialed and agreed to follow up on it. I thought they were humoring me until three weeks later when I got a call from the office who had visited us. She said that they identified the number I had dialed as belonging to Mr. Brian Carter a retired widower who lived a couple of villages away. The police went to his house as a routine follow up, but after getting no response and based on an overpowering smell coming from the small cottage forced entry.

Brian was found hanging in his lounge. Next to him, still beeping, the phone, its receiver on the floor. He had written two words on a pad “I’m sorry” and police had timed his death as within an hour of the phone call I made to him on that Halloween night.