#SO you get the light-hearted reply and the mushy tags because this is just really nice and i appreciate it a lot

[ghoulbats]

Don't be rude to them, they're doing the best they can :< (in reference to ur needlessly self-bashing tags) also their blog is cool so. Shush!

can everyone stop being nice to me i’m trying not to get too attached to tumblr again and you’re all making it incredibly hard >:(

(also anon i was v confused reading the preview for this and thought i’d insulted your fav character in some tags and felt really bad and then i saw the whole message and !!! you mean me!! this is the first time someone’s used they/them pronouns for me and it’s just v cool and exciting so thank you!! <3)

i hate tumblr mobile (but ily anon)

[walkerismychoice]

Queen of My Heart - Chapter 38 (The End!)

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Drake X MC, Liam X Olivia, Hana X OC Lydia

Rating: PG-13

Summary: The show comes to and end, and Riley contemplates her future

Author’s Note: I can’t believe I’ve finally brought this series to an end. There was quite a long time I thought I may never finish. I want to thank all the readers and friends who’ve read and encouraged me along the way. I want to especially thank @debramcg1106 as of late for helping me work through the ending and pushing me to finish it out. This is the technical end of the story, but I do have an epilogue planned as well.

Tag List: @khakie4 @dreadpirateemma @ritachacha @blackcoffee85 @choices-fanatic @boneandfur @butindeed @simplyaiden-blog @bobasheebaby @traeumerinsworld @theroyalweisme @umccall71 @lizeboredom @debramcg1106 @enmchoices @withice @viktoriapetit @mfackenthal @drakesfiance @drakelover78 @speedyoperarascalparty @silviasutton1989 @krisnicjack @devineinterventions2 @choiceswreckedme @notoriouscs @blackcatkita @hamalu @akrenich @drakewalkerfantasy @jamielea81 @andy-loves-corgis @jlouise88 @jovialyouthmusic @sleepwalkingelite @i-miss-trr @dragonball-luver @gkittylove99 @lovingchoices14

Word Count: 2230

Queen of My Heart Chapter Index

Due to everything that transpired, filming of the finale was delayed two weeks. Riley was grateful for the time and hardly left Drake’s side during his recovery. He was sent back to the palace after a couple days, and Riley had to convince him that whiskey was not a suitable replacement for the antibiotics and pain medication the doctor prescribed. Reluctantly he obliged. He worked with physical therapy, and by the end of those two weeks, you’d have hardly known he’d been injured at all.

Olivia was salty her ball had been ruined, but the production staff made up for it, giving her and Liam an overnight filmed at Olivia’s northern Lythikos retreat. She was still worried the country would favor Riley with Liam, but Kat assured Olivia between her heroic actions, personal growth, and some favorable editing, it would be hard for most people not to be on her side.

As for Madeleine, it was still unclear if she would be charged criminally or would be incompetent to stand trial due to her mental health, but either way, she wouldn’t be a danger to anyone for quite some time. It was questionable if Jo’s involvement in the whole thing broke any laws. She wasn’t Cordonian, so she couldn’t be charged with treason for skirting security and endangering the life of the crown prince, but authorities were looking to see if there was anything they could make stick. At the very least she was blacklisted and would never work in television again.

So finally, on a calm, clear, day, there was only one obstacle left. Riley met with Liam, adorned in a stunning, body-hugging, Swarovski crystal filled dress, to put on the performance of a lifetime and act as if he’d shattered her heart. Of course, it wasn’t that easy. There were a couple of takes where neither of them could keep a straight face followed few that were unbelievably dramatic, but ultimately Riley was able to tap into her vulnerability and the tragedy she had faced to bring genuine emotion and tears to light. It didn’t matter that it was unrelated to what was happening in the scene, it was real. Kat said it was perfect, and Liam was free to propose to Olivia.

-----

Now that all is said and done, who will Liam choose to be his future Queen? Will it be the fierce Duchess Olivia, or the plucky newcomer Riley? Stay tuned for the finale of Queen of My Heart.”

Maxwell draped his arm around Riley’s shoulder. “What do you think, sis? How did I do on my television debut.”

Maxwell, Bertrand, Savannah, Hannah, Lydia, Liam, Olivia, Riley, and Drake were all huddled in the palace screening room to watch the finale as it aired.

Just about anyone would have been an improvement over Chad,” Riley teased, ”but the squid suit was definitely a nice touch. Your delivery was great, but did you have to call me plucky?”

“You know I had to play it cool,” Maxwell explained. “Plucky is good, but not over the top. Don’t want anyone thinking I’m playing favorites because you’re my sister.”

Riley rolled her eyes. “The suggested ‘noble newcomer’ would have been sufficient.”

“It was a stylistic choice.” Maxwell made a gesture with his hand indicating a mock hair flip.

"Ugh, enough about Maxwell," Olivia groaned. "I'm ready to get to the good part. Can we just fast-forward through any mushy Liam and Riley stuff? Nobody needs to see that."

"I second that." Drake raised his hand in rare agreement with Olivia.

Liam just shook his head. "I know nobody watches live network television anymore, so you must have forgotten how this works. There's no fast-forwarding. Not even through commercials."

"That's fine with me." Lydia chimed in. "More time for making out."

"Lydia!" Hannah's cheeks turned a deep shade of pink.

Lydia pecked her on the lips. "Sorry babe. You're just too damn cute when you blush."

Hannah remained quiet but her smile gave her away. Lydia, with her outgoing, bold, and slightly unpredictable personality, was the perfect complement to Hannah being so shy, proper, and focused. They brought out the best in each other, and the difference in Hannah between when Riley met her until now was night and day.

The friends watched the show and Riley only cringed at herself in a few places, which was much less than she thought she would. Things did get a bit awkward during the montage of kissing scenes between Riley and Liam, and Maxwell and Bertrand made a show of covering their eyes for the steamier parts. They all laughed inappropriately when Liam dumped Riley since they knew it wasn't real. And then finally when Liam proposed to Olivia, everyone cheered.

Riley thought of her friends and family at home. She pictured aunt Susan, Sarah, and Daniel all rooting for her and how disappointed they must have been that she "lost." She couldn't wait to tell them, however, she hadn't lost at all.

"Wow, Livvy." Drake quipped, bringing Riley out of her deep thoughts. "How much did you have to pay them to give you such a flattering edit?"

Olivia threw a pillow at his head which he deftly dodged. "Fuck off, Walker. You were so desperate to get on the show, you leapt in front of a bullet."

"Now, now children." Liam said in a mock scolding tone. "Let's all play nice."

"Yes, father," Drake and Olivia replied in unison, causing laughter to erupt around the room.

Riley still didn't have all the answers about what her future would hold, but she had found her people. Where she was in that moment was where she needed to be.

Savannah yawned. "It's getting late. We should probably go and relieve the sitter." Riley hasn't wanted to pry into Savannah and Bertrand's relationship, but they were working together to parent Bartie and things seemed to be falling into place for them.

"Yes, yes." Bertrand agreed. "Time is money!"

"Oh my god, Bertrand." Savannah rolled her eyes. "Life isn't all about money."

"She’s right." Maxwell propped his arm on Savannah's shoulder. "Besides, now that the show is over, we'll be getting some money, and Kat said if viewers responded well to me, they would probably offer to extend my contract in the franchise. By the looks of these tweets, I'm going to be rolling in dough. 'That Maxwell guy is so hot...ridiculously funny...just what the show needed.' Should I read more?

"Please no." Bertrand groaned. "We can talk finances later. Goodnight, all."

As the rest of the crowd dwindled, Liam asked Drake and Riley to stay behind. He kissed Olivia and promised to join her when the conversation was through.

"So what's up?" Drake got right to the point once only the three of them remained.

Liam cleared his throat. "Well as you know, I highly value your loyalty to the crown."

"Heh." Drake let out a terse laugh. "I don't really give a fuck about the crown, but I do care about you."

"In any case, you take your job very seriously and I could see you as head of the guard one day, once Bastien retires." Liam paused before continuing. "However, I do have another proposition for you."

Drake raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Go on."

"How would you like to be the head of Valtoria?" Liam asked expectantly.

Drake' eyes narrowed in contemplation. "I thought Valtoria was unoccupied. Is there a new Duke or Duchess there now that needs a security detail?"

"No, no." Liam laughed. "Well, there could be. That's what I'm trying to ask you. I would like to give Valtoria to you."

"No fucking way. You have to be kidding me. Did you sign up for some royal version of a prank show now?" Drake scanned the room as if searching for hidden cameras.

"I'm serious, Drake. I think you would make a fantastic duke."

Drake scoffed. "I'm a commoner who despises most nobles and everything the monarchy stands for."

"That's exactly why you'd be perfect for the role." Liam explained. "Cordonia needs a fresh perspective - someone who can resonate with the people the monarchy serves. Just think, you could have a real voice in creating change. I don't want to rule like my father has and his father before. I want the people to have the representation they deserve, and you are a key to that."

Drake sighed deeply. "I don't know Li. Even if I could do this - if I wanted to - what makes me worthy? What's everyone going to say when they find out you gave an average dude the title of Duke just because he's your best friend?"

"I'll tell them that Drake Walker is anything but average. He's smart, capable, and fiercely loyal. He's saved my life more times than I count and has more integrity than anyone I know. Public policy can be learned, but these qualities cannot be taught. He may not be noble by blood, but he is my family, and he belongs."

'Wow, Liam." Drake ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know what to say."

"You're quiet over there." Liam directed at Riley. "What do you think?"

"Me?!" Riley had been as shocked by this as Drake, and she didn't know what to think. This was about Drake, not her. Did her opinion really matter? "I, uh.... think this is really Drake's decision."

Drake took Riley's hands in his. "But it's yours too. I mean, if we are going to be together..."

"Oh, well..." How was Riley supposed to help Drake decide such a life altering thing when she didn't even have her own life sorted out?

Drake didn't leave her fumbling for too long. "Liam, I really don't know if either of use is equipped to answer this question right now. It's a very generous offer, and the fact that I'm not totally shutting you down for suggesting such a ridiculous thing as me being a Duke should tell you I'm genuinely willing to entertain the idea."

Liam chuckled. "I completely understand. This life is new to both of you in different ways, and to navigate a new relationship on top of all that is a lot to ask. I'm in no hurry to fill the vacancy. Consider it an open-ended invitation. I trust that you'll be ready to make your decision long before the public pressures me into making a new appointment."

"Thanks, Liam." Drake gave him hug and patted him on the back. "Now get back to your fiancé before she blames me for keeping you too long."

-----

Back in her palace guestroom, Riley nestled into Drake, her head resting on his chest. "It's been quite a night, huh?

"You could say that again." Drake pulled her tighter against him.

"I kind of feel like we're moving so fast, we're skipping steps - like we're being asked to decide the rest of our lives before we even know what we want to do tomorrow." Riley knew nobody was outright asking for an immediate decision, but she felt the weight of everyone's expectations. Whether she stayed in Cordonia or went back home, she'd probably be disappointing someone.

"Who says we have to?" Drake asked. "You heard Liam. He doesn't need an answer right away. I Know you haven't decided what you want, and I sure as hell don't know what I'm going to do yet. Why don't we take some time together to just...be. Do normal couple things and see where the relationship takes us."

"Normal couple things... I mean I don't know how I can go back to my normal peasant life after attending weekly balls dressed in couture gowns," Riley teased, "but I think I could make that sacrifice for you, my commoner boyfriend."

"Hey, watch who you are calling commoner." Drake pinned Riley down and tickled her sides until she begged him to stop, and he collapsed beside her again. "I just may outrank you soon if I so choose."

Riley laced her fingers through Drake's. "It's crazy to think how our lives have changed in a few short months. I don't think I could have made it through all of this without you, and not just because you kept literally saving my life."

"You may not have taken a bullet for me, but you've saved me too. For once in my life, I see multiple paths with meaning and purpose. I've seen so much of myself reflected in you, but it id the version of me I want to be, not the one I was. You've shown me trials and hardships don't have to make you bitter, and that you don't have to fit the cookie cutter mold to find your place here... Oh, God, listen to me. What have you done to me Bennett?" Drake shuddered in mock disgust.

Riley softly pressed her lips to his and pulled back with a smirk. "I don't think I can take all the credit, or the blame as you might put it. But enough talk about the future. You said we should focus on the now, and right now all I need is you."

"Well then, your wish is my command." Drake pulled Riley tight to him and then they lost themselves in each other, completely unencumbered by any decisions about their future. Those could wait for another day.

[albino-whumpee]

Demon Angel AU: Looming

This is mostly fluff with a twist at the end. The next part should be Whumpier, but for now, timeline is set right before the Circus! Hope you like it!

Taglist:

@as-a-matter-of-whump @orchidscript @haro-whumps @giggly-evil-puppy @grizzlie70 @rosesareviolentlyread

CW// Some angst, implied past dubcon, implied Pet whump, recovery whump, mention of branding, self blaming, implied torture, non human whumpees, demon whump, accidental whump, blood, non sexual nudity and mind control. Ask to tag!

In a few weeks, the angel had learnt exactly how to start up a fire and cook his own meat, set up his own camp and how to set up a trap for small animals. It was small progress made while the demon kept an eye on the direction of the grasslands they had fallen the day of the ceremony.

The soldiers should have already seen through his spell and were already turning on their heels to find them. They were moving, but the demon knew they were at least two steps ahead. Despite the constant agitation in his mind, wondering what could happen if they were found by humans, Albus indulged Sann on his morning strolls.

It was a deal they made after Albus began slurring words and dark bags sprouted under his eyes. Sann would mount guard a few hours before sunrise so the demon could catch up some sleep.

Albus quickly understood it wasn´t just simple generosity on the seraphim´s behalf, which he perfectly knew was the angel´s nature, but it was too, an excuse to soar the sky and perch up on trees to watch the sunrise on a place that was so vastly different from home.

Like a kid learning there was far more than the town they grew up in, a sense of wonder permeated Sann´s every action. And just like a kid, there would be accidents.

It was basically routine now how Albus jumped completely awake a few minutes before sunrise. When he heard a dry thud right outside of the hollow tree trunk covered in a thick layer of leafs and tall grass to find Sann lifting himself off the floor covered in twigs.

The angel would have the nerve to smile shyly at him and ask for help to pull out a stick from under the mess of feathers that was his back. There was something in the way his cheeks dimpled that compelled him to always say yes.

“How do you even-?” Albus started pulling away a twig coiled right between the middle and third wings. Noticing now how the third pair was smaller, and so, far more knitted up and hard to pull things out from “How do you manage to get twigs this large stuck in there? Do you fly directly into trees or what?” he groaned pulling with both hands now.

“I can’t help it! I didn’t have to worry about trees up there! I don’t see- OUCH! WAIT! STOP, STOP!” Sann screamed an involuntary flap slapping Albus square in the face. Sann whipped his head back to find an Albus with his face red, his nose wrikling in annoyance, before a drop of black scurried down to his lip. The smile forming on his lips dropped as he jumped to stand “Oh gods, I´m sorry! I didn´t mean-”

“DON´T” he cut him off with palatable irritation in his voice, lifting his hand to stop the angel’s and wiping it off with the back of his hand “Don’t touch it” the demon whispered looking around for something to stop the bleeding.

He found the angel ripping off the side of his skirt and cautiously, Sann began to wipe his face clean “I’m sorry, that must have hurt” he said, settling a hand on his jaw to have a better grip while rubbing with a light touch.

The demon found himself lost in the touch. So warm and gentle, he didn’t notice how he leaned into his hand with eyes closed. Shooting them wide open and stepping back when he heard a breathy giggle. Embarrassment completely turning his face red as he saw the angel hood his wrist and clean the back of his hand too before, folding the piece of cloth and turn.

“Your turn” he said lifting his wings just so, giving way to reach the twig, still trapped between the joints of his wings. The demon watched him for a second and swooshed his tail before grabbing it in one hand. The other softly controlling the wing’s movement so it wouldn’t pull his feathers.

“Move the third pair down and the second up” Albus said, hearing the slight scratch on the floor when they touched the ground. Albus finally could see the shape of the twig and pulled it sideways, throwing it away in a sigh. “There, how do you feel?” The demon asked still a hand over the seraphim’s feathery back. The smallest, softest ones covering the sides of his spine. Moving along the wings, lifting and puffing up, sensing under his finger tips how the muscles on his back allowed them to stretch.

An indescribable feeling ran through the demon then, birthed by wondering how strong they had to be to not only lift Sann off the ground, but also carry both of them. An extension of his body he betrayed his homeland to keep. That he broke in order to save him.

“Much better! Thank you, Al. Sorry for slapping you” he giggled, the weight of his hand still on his back making him turn to see his face, solemn and quiet, before he looked away. “Al?”

“Thank you, angel” the words rolled out of his tongue with ease. Puzzling Sann before the seraphim caught a glimpse of bright red snaking down his neck. Smiling to himself when he saw his tail swoosh behind him while lifting up their camp “Nothing suspicious around?”

“Nope” Sann replied popping the sound at the end with a grin.

“We should get moving. We have stayed here for too long”

“Nobody’s on our backs tho’” the angel said noticing the funky smell coming out of his garbs, now gray and green at parts because of his unfortunate, sudden encounters with trees. Remembering the place that distracted him in the first place and watching the poor state of Albus’ own clothes “I know a place…”

—-

That same night, having moved to the other side of the mountain, Sann was sitting on the edge of the natural spring, running a hand through his wet hair and covering his naked body from the other with his wings. Watching the demon basically melting inside the water, full bliss on his face making a deep contrast to the frown he always wore.

“You should take off your clothes when you bathe in springs you know?” Sann said putting his head on his knees while watching the demon slowly open his eyes and lift himself up just enough to take the dirty black top over his head. Getting slightly thrown off by his carelessness, Sann tried to look away, but before he could, his eye caught a glimpse of something he didn’t expect “What’s that on your chest?”

“Hm?” The demon turned, cheeks red from the heat before his eyes found the same thing Sann’s eyes were locked on “Oh, it’s a sigil” the demon’s fingers hovered over it “I have it since I was born”

“That’s a very old spell then”

The demon bit a laugh “How old do you think I am?”

The angel looked at him for a moment, scanning his features and taking his chin in one hand, reflecting “Demons age slower than humans, but faster than us, so I would say…40?”

“Not even close” Sann clicked his tongue.

“Well, how old do you think I am?” Sann exclaimed a smugness in his face that tried to fight the unamused face of the demon.

“60” He simply said and grinned when Sann widened his eyes “Ah, I got it right? Lucky guess~” 

The angel burst into laughing then.

“No!”

“no? then...120?” the angel laughed even harder.

“Can´t be colder!”

“200? 444? 800?” With each new random number the demon tried. 

“You´re gonna get to the thousands that way”

“Well, tell me how old are you”

“And you will tell me how old you are”

The demon dramatically looked to a side, as if considering. 

“Alright, I´m 23. Your turn”

The angel giggled ″I don´t really know”

The demon stared at him for a second, before sighing “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, time and age hardly matters to an angel that is born looking like...” he vaguely pointed at his body “And we hardly get a gray hair after centuries, so your guesses are just as good as mine”

The demon reclined his back on the mushy rock behind him, with an scowl that quickly softened. 

“What you said was right tho” the angel flapped his wings as he tilted his head curiously “That demons age quicker than you. But it would only apply to me, if I was a normal demon. But this thing here makes it closer to a human’s” he said tapping on the mark above his heart.

Sann looked at it, trying to decipher the sigil to no avail, he had never seen that symbol. Not even in his God’s extensive personal library he was allowed to after exceptional good behavior, or the books his god would read on bed while running his fingers through his hair, faking being asleep so he could peak on it.

“What does it do?”

Give me another chance to live, Albus thought to himself.

Sann looked at him and caught a vague melancholy on his eyes before he smiled at him again “Its a brand. For demon’s like me, only that this one does give me more powers rather than just being decorative” he laughed grimly.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t heal it” Sann said burying half of his face on his arms, sinking on himself, stopping Albus laughter dead on its tracks.

“It’s…it’s alright. Don’t worry about it” Albus tried, voice low, rubbing the dark, sleeveless top under the water in hopes of cleaning it like he had with Sann’s robes when they got to the springs. Or maybe just to have something to keep his hands busy. His voice was sincere when he talked again “Thank you for trying anyways”

“It’s not enough” he replied instantly.

“It is more than what I thought an Angel would ever do for me” the demon shrugged, locking amber on gray and filling with a fuzziness when the Seraphim’s knitted brow relaxed. “I’m not looking to get another any time soon, so you don’t have to worry, alright?”

There was a silence of a few seconds before Sann talked again.

“If they…capture us, if they get us, another brand would just be the start” Sann said barely above a whisper, wings flapping behind him, tightening around him searching for protection. “They should have seen through your spell already”

Albus took a deep breath before replying, “Most likely”

“Can…Can we really hide from them? Are we really…safe?” Sann asked eyes so packed with fear, Albus felt a knot form on his stomach at the display of vulnerability. He licked his lips before answering.

“To be honest, I’m not sure” Sann’s heart skipped a beat “But there are places they can’t reach or will find it really hard to break into, that we can go hide on. Like my Anshe’s woods or the underworld…” Albus ears perked up and he whipped his head in the woods direction, listening attentively to an specific sound that had been following them for a while already. Always there in the back, only gone when they flied.

After a moment it disappeared and he visibly relaxed.

“Al? Something wrong?” The angel asked with a new layer of worry on his face as he looked on the direction Albus was looking before, seeing nothing but the calm woods.

“Everything alright” The demon incorporated, swinging the soaked top over his shoulder as he stepped out of the water, pulling his hair back and watching the night sky, while muttering a warning spell under his breath. Albus put the top to dry over a rock and loooked at Sann again with a calm face. “Would you come with me to my Anshe’s woods?

Sann was thrown off by the question, blinking at the demon for a long moment “But I’m a Seraphim…”

“No worries, she’s far older than any god you know. She calls the war between our worlds an “unnecessary child fight” and I’m pretty sure she has the power to end it. She just won’t because she would die of boredom otherwise. She’s safe” Albus told him, but Sann didn’t seem convinced “Theres that, but I also…have to go meet her before winter comes. Her domain are the woods before the desert, right before crossing into to the underworld” Albus jaw worked when he settled next to Sann “It’s something I have to do, no matter what”

Sann stared at him for a moment before breathing out “and what about the underworld? I’m sure I would get burnt just by stepping in…”

“I wouldn’t allow that” he interrupted him, voice so firm, Sann puffed up “We will figure it out, but I promise you, nothing on the underworld will hurt you”

Sann’s anxiety was palpable. 

“If it doesn´t work, we can find another place. The human world is vast and some of it is unexplored. You could even name an island after you if we found one” The angel didn´t laugh at the joke. “I will protect you. No matter what” The demon said, cheeks burning.

“Alright” the angel whispered, feeling a warmth creep on the tip of his ears.

“Alright” he repeated slowly, “We just have to get there unharmed, avoiding humans if possible”

“How?”

“Well first things first, stop diving into trees when patrolling” Albus said, receiving a soft smack on his ribs and ripping out a smile out of the Seraphim, dimpling his cheeks with a smile that made him warm inside. “But secondly” Albus started eyeing the direction of the odd sound, hoping he was just being overly cautious “If you let me, I can make you understand their language”

Sann blinked at that, up finally unfolding himself in his surprise “You can do that?”

“Yep. That’s why I understand what you say. My spells work with speech, and so if I say Sann,” The Seraphim noticed the switch of his voice, turned into a chorus of deep and low and high and childish voices, a whispered cacophony that set his feathers on edge “born on the god’s sacred ground above the clouds, I grant you your wish to understand the tongue of those who walk and rule the land you’re sitting on” Sann felt a sting of frozen cold on the back of his throat, that disappeared as it came, a flash of pain and then nothing, as if it never happened “it will be done!” He said with a smile that showed his fangs.

Both of them looked at each other until the smile on the demon’s face came down just like his ears. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Sann simply shivered and passed his hand over his wings, soothing his feathers back on place. Letting the fire of their bonfire, dry them fully before tapping Al on the head with his wing.

“Don´t ever do that again without asking me first” Sann demanded. Albus´ ears went down colored a bright red. 

“I´m sorry, I won´t do it again” 

Sann looked him up and down before scooting closer “Are the voices creepy on purpose?” He asked, curving his lips into a playful smile at the way Al’s tail began thumping on the floor.

“…maybe”

The night carried on with laughter and low conversation, however in the middle of the night when Albus was on guard, a heavy rain dropped. Forcing them to move under the cover of a tree. The space safe from the rain completely occupied by Sann on his wing cocoon. Unexpectedly, When Sann opened it to let him in and wrapped him around it to soak him in his own warmth and keep him dry, Albus allowed himself to curl closer. Chest to chest. Falling asleep immediately with the rain as lullaby and exhaustion, drifting him into a heavy sleep that didn’t alert him of the things waiting exactly for this moment.

With the demons finally asleep, the human hunters that had stalked them for weeks, came out to get their prey.

[astronomodeus]

≡;- ꒰ °The demon brothers when you two have a long distance relationship꒱ @astronomodeus

Lucifer:

` He tries to call you as much as he can

` Also doesn't sleep much because of overworking himself so he'd be fine with the time difference but you feel guilty about it every single time.

` Of course, he reassures you that it's alright.

` He nags you about how you should always take care of yourself and you scold him, "Look who's talking?"

` When you facetime him, he acts like the sweetest boy ever and he gets so excited to talk to you.

Mammon:

` The messages he sends to you would vary

` Sometimes he's mushy and misses you and other times he can be jokingly sarcastic and act cocky when you tell him that you miss him.

` The boys would probably take secret photos and videos trying to cuddle the other brothers while complaining how much he misses you.

` "I just miss mc, okay?! And none of your guys' cuddles measure up to theirs!"

Leviathan:

` He tries to act chill about everything but he can't help but cry about how much he misses you.

` Asmo tries to cheer him up (as well as the other brothers) but the thing that helps him is seeing your cute 'I miss you' texts that warm his heart and destroy all his uwu's.

` He would tell you the next time you both meet again, he will be giving one of his hoodies to you whenever you miss him.

` You thought he was joking, but he wasn't. He sprayed the hoodie with cologne and gave it to you.

` "You know I love you a lot right? You can even ask my Ruri-chan pillow! I miss playing video games and staying up all night watching anime with you. Missing you is absolutely driving me crazy."

Satan:

` He has alarms that go off when you normally wake up and fall asleep so he can send you cute goodmorning and goodnight texts no matter the time zone difference.

` You love it but worry about his sleeping pattern.

` He reassures you that taking five (5) minutes out of his sleep is worth it to make you smile.

` He sends you selfies all the time and loves when you send him some.

` He giggles when you overreact to his visuals and it honestly makes his day.

` Sometimes he can't sleep because he couldn't stop thinking about you then he gets super sentimental and soft.

` So he'll facetime you, and let me tell you, sleepy Satan is the cutest and sweetest thing in the world.

` "Mc~ I wanna see you and hug you and kiss you. You mean the world to me and it hurts so much to be apart from you."

Asmodeus:

` He texts you non-stop, probably in all caps, telling you how much he loves you and misses you.

` Always sends a bunch of heart emojis too.

` He constantly tag you in posts or sending you stuffs like, "Hey this happened, I saw this and I thought of you" kind of thing.

` He would buy you random gifts that don't make any sense but it reminds him of you in a really weird but cute way.

` LOVES to leave you audio messages and wants you to send him some because he misses the sound of your voice.

` He would be super dramatic about how much he misses you and acts like he's the lead in a romance play in a highschool production.

` "My dearest mc. My love. My muse. Where'd you go? Why aren't you here? I've been missing you for centuries aND YOU HAVEN'T REPLIED TO MY TEXT IN 30 MINUTES. DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH MY HEART LONGS FOR YOU AND YOU MAKE ME WAIT LIKE A PIG, A BEAUTIFUL PIG. RUDEEEE!"

Beelzebub:

` He would always send you very sentimental texts about how much he loves and misses you.

` He would always check in on you and made sure you were taking care of yourself.

` When he finally got to see you again, he was so bashful but you could still see his excitement.

` He knew he wouldn't be able to see you for very long and that time apart was unbearable for him.

` So he gave you a matching bracelet so no matter how far apart you two are, you'll still be together.

Belphegor:

` He calls you at the worst times (because he's asleep 24/7) and you miss his calls and vice versa so you end up playing phone tag.

` He would get super whiny when you don't text him back soon enough.

` Pouty baby.

` The rest of the brothers blow your phone up, begging you to visit so he can stop pouting for one second.

` He goes to his older brothers and ask for advice on how to deal with missing you so much and they help comfort him.

` When he finally hears from you, his face lights up and runs to his room so the others won’t hear him telling you how much he loves and misses you, but they're outside the door listening to everything lmao. They wait for him to come out so they can tease him about it and he gets so flustered.

` "Mc! I'm so glad we can finally talk, I've missed you so much you don't even know!"

note: pls how does tumblr work this is my first time posting lmao was bored and i hope y’all like it💀

[kimmietea]

Double Yikes! Part 1 (Ben Hardy x Reader)

Summary: Ben and Reader go on their date.

Warnings: Dirty thoughts, cursing...sickly sweet touching moments

Continuation of Yikes!

A/N: Wow ok hi everyone! Is this actually happening? Im actually posting this! So i decided to break up Double Yikes into 2 parts. First of all because it has been way too long and i feel awful for making you all wait and 2 because I’m struggling with the end and I'm hoping this will buy me some more time. I don’t bite so please tell me what you all think. Do you hate it? Love it? Want more? Tell me all of it. I love to hear from you. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for when part 2 is finished. Ok I think that’s it...oh don’t forget Italics is reader thinking to herself in her head. Alright let’s do this!!

TagList:: @borhapqueen92  @radiob-l-a-hblah  @gwendolyns-stacy @coincidence-ithinknots-blog @mythicmazzellos  @hardforbenhardy @onceuponadetectivedemigod

*********************************************

“Wait wait, read it to me again.” Morgan said stuffing the last bit of her lunch into her mouth. You were both sitting in your office for lunch, talking about Ben and your upcoming date that night, when he texted you as promised a few hours before.

“It says 'Do you mind if I pick you up for our date? I really want to be a perfect gentleman.' Then there are the fingers crossed emoji and in brackets '🤞(please say yes).' You read and flipped the phone around to show her.

"Want to be? Hell he already is."

"I'm so nervous. He still didn't say where or what time. What if I don't get out of work in time to shower? Oh god I'm gonna smell on our first date. What am I gonna wear? If I don't have enough time to shower then I might not have enough time to change. Oh god what if i wear what i'm wearing now. He's gonna look and smell so good. All showered and sexy in whatever he's got on and I'm gonna be this gross, smelly potato still in her clothes from work. Im freaking out!" You were spiraling.

"Alright calm down. One thing at a time. Let's come up with a reply. Do you want him to pick you up?"

"Of course I do." You smiled. "Better chance of a goodnight kiss."

"Or a good morning kiss" She muttered.

"Morgan!" She held her hands up in defense.

“I’m just saying what you’re thinking.”

She’s not wrong

“Oh shut up and help me.”

 Together you came up with a reply and he responded with the time he would be by to pick you up and the dress code, to which he described as 'Fancier than work but not the royal wedding.', because he refused to tell you where you were going, causing you to stress about it for the rest of the day. At least you would have enough time to shower and change.

By the time you left work, you were nothing but a big nervous mess. When you got home you had 2 hours to get ready before Ben would be there. You went straight to the shower making sure every bit of you was clean and any place that needed shaving was taken care of just in case things ended the way Morgan said they would.

You were definitely not the type of girl to sleep with a guy on the first date but there was something about Ben. A pull you just couldn't explain. A need to be close to him but at the same time a need to be far away because you were so nervous you may vomit all over him. Plus this very well could be the last time you see him, him being an actor and his career on the verge of skyrocketing and all. So why not make the most of it if the opportunity arises.

After your shower you spent way too long in the closet trying to pick something to wear. You finally decided on what Morgan called your "Posh Spice Dress". It was a simple black dress that stopped mid thigh, with thin straps.

Hair and makeup came next and you kept things simple. Minimal makeup and a simple, messy sort of bun with a few pieces falling around your face. You received a text from Ben notifying you that he was on his way.  Shoes on, wallet and keys in purse. You snapped a quick picture in the full length mirror and sent it off to Morgan as promised.

The knock at the door made you jump and almost drop your phone.

Jesus that was fast.

You could feel your hands start to sweat and your heart pound as you walked to the door.

Breath you manic, it's just a date. Breath.

You opened the door and the breath you just talked yourself into taking was stolen from you. Ben was dressed in a wonderful black suit and dark green shirt, making his eyes stand out. His hair was tousled just enough so a piece hung over his forehead. He was looking at the floor but when the door opened he looked up. He shook his head to get the stray piece or hair off his forehead but it did nothing but make you weak in the knees.

Fuuuuck! You beautiful bastard. My god, I'm gonna be distracted all night.

The effect he had on you must have shown on your face because his cheeks were a light pink.

"Hey." He smiled.

"Hi." You managed to get out. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek. You were grateful you were still holding the door otherwise you'd be on the ground.

"Wow you look... absolutely stunning." You looked to the ground to try and hide the furious blush that was now burning your face.

“Oh um these are for you.”  He handed you the small batch of daffodils you hadn't noticed he was holding.

“My favorite. How did you know?” Trusting your knees wouldn't fail you, you moved inside and gestured for him to follow. In the kitchen you found a vase and filled it with water before turning to face him.

“I may have called the office and asked Morgan.” His bottom lip pulled between his teeth. You clenched your legs together and did everything you could not to moan out loud.

How inappropriate would it be if I jumped him right now?

“Sorry. That’s kinda creepy now that I say it out loud.” He laughed.

“No it’s not creepy. It’s thoughtful. They’re beautiful, thank you Ben.” You reassured and touched his arm gratefully. He nodded and when you turned to place the vase on the counter he let his fingers brush where you had touched his arm.

“Ready?” He asked, clearing his throat.

“Yep.” You grabbed your things and headed out the door to Bens car that was waiting in the parking lot of your apartment building. Keeping up his promise of being the perfect gentleman, he walked you to the passenger side and opened the door for you. His hand on your lower back the entire way. Once you were both settled in the car he passed you his phone, spotify was pulled up.

“Alright D.J. do your thing.” He said, pulling out of the lot and onto the street. You laughed and took the phone from him.

Ok do NOT fuck this up!

“Ah the real test.” You scrolled for a little.

“You probably think I'm going to play something Queen.” You saw the smirk on his face but he stayed silent.

Don’t be a cliche bitch.

“While i do love Queen, I'm sure that's all anyone ever plays for you now and I refuse to be that person.” You hummed and scrolled through his playlists. Surprisingly you had a lot of the same taste in music.

Should I pick something funny? Maybe a love song? No, to mushy.

“Oh I got it.” You said before clicking the one you had chosen. ’Thank you’ from Led Zeppelin. Just the right amount of lovey without being obvious. You watched his face as the music started. The smirk faded and a soft smile appeared.

“Why yes boys, she’s not just a pretty face, she’s got great music taste too.” You joked. His face didn’t change. He turned to glance at you before returning his eyes back to the road, smile still in place.

Oh shit. No real reaction.

“So, how’d I do?” You asked. You felt almost nauseous with the butterflies in your stomach. He looked to you again, a look you couldn't place.

"Perfect." He answered in almost a whisper. There was something more to that answer, you could feel it. There was tension in the car. Not a bad one, not a sexual one. Just an energy, an electric charge. This wasn't going to be just a regular date.

I wonder if he can feel that too.

Before either one of you could break the tension your phone chimed with a text message. You took your phone from your purse to see a message from Morgan.

‘YAS you sexy bitch! Get that dickin’ down girl!’ You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up and out of you.

“What’s so funny?” Ben asked.

Oh shit

You put your phone on silent and put it back in your purse after texting her back a thumbs up and a winking emoji. The mood in the car shifted, it was light, fun and you could breathe normal again.

“Just Morgan being Morgan.”

“Is that the ‘Let me know if you need me to get you out of this awful date and I'll make something up.’ text?” You laughed and shook your head.

Nope, just my best friend wishing me good luck on tryin to sex you up tonight.

“No, actually believe it or not, we didn’t even have that conversation.” You told him truthfully. The thought of coming up with an escape plan in case things went south didn’t even cross your mind. His smile grew.

“Feelin’ pretty good about this date then?” He chuckled, doing his best to joke but you could hear the nerves in his voice. You turned your full attention to him and put your elbow on the middle console, your chin resting in your hand, a warm smile on your lips. He pulled up to a stop light as you answered.

“Very good.” He turned to look at you, his smile still soft, that look in his eyes you couldn’t place was still shining at you. You watched as his eyes moved all across your face, as if he was doing his best to capture every inch of it, commit it to memory so he would never forget.

Oh my god please kiss me.

The mood shifted again and you found it hard to catch your breath.

There is no way he isn’t feeling this. It’s too strong.

He brought his hand up and let the back of his knuckles gently run along the side of your face.

How have I not noticed how full his lips are. I bet they feel amazing.

“Me too.” He whispered.

Oh god I'm in trouble.

The light turned green, the mood shifted again and Ben continued to the restaurant. As if that intense moment hadn’t just happened. All the mood changes were making you dizzy.

The rest of the ride was nice, you chatted about little things, his upcoming projects, how the rest of your work day was. When you pulled into a spot at the restaurant, Ben jumped out and ran around to your side of the car opening the door for you and offering his arm. You grinned at him and looped your arm in his.

Once inside and at your table, a perfect cozy spot in the corner, Ben pulled your chair out for you. You recognized the name of the restaurant, ‘Ember’ . It was the new hot spot. It was only open a few months and already the reservation list was booked up till a year and a half from now.

How did he get us in here? He doesn't seem like one of those actors to use his name or the fact that he’s an actor, to get what he wants.

You stopped looking at your menu to look at him, his eyes were roaming the page.

“I have to say, I’m a little impressed you were able to get us here on such short notice.” He laughed and glanced up at you.

“Don’t be. The head chef, Ryan, is a close mate from back home. I had to beg him for about an hour after I left your office to get us a table.”

Ugh. The cutest.

“That and while i'm in town I owe him 3 nights of babysitting his 4 year old daughter, Olivia, so him and his wife can go out. So yeah not too impressive.”

Jk, that was the cutest. And now I'm picturing Ben with a 4 year old. I am fuckin done for.

“I wouldn’t say that. I find the fact that you called my office to find out my favorite flower, begged your friend for a table at his restaurant and gave up 3 of your nights to babysit all to have dinner with some girl you just met 10 hours ago kinda impressive.” He smiled and set his menu aside.

"Well she's definitely not just some girl." You also put your menu aside, your head tilted sweetly to the side.

"Oh no?"

"No, she's special." Your heart skipped a beat. That same electric feeling from the car was back.

Fuck.

"Well she thinks you're pretty special too." His face went red and he looked down at the table to try and hide it. The waitress approached the table. She was young, early 20s for sure, pretty and clearly recognized Ben. The electric feeling was gone again.

"Hi, I'm Kate. I'll be your server tonight. Can I start you off with a drink?" She said a little too sweetly. She angled herself towards Ben, her back slightly to you. You could already feel yourself getting agitated.

Please do not fuck up my night with this man you little hoe.

Ben ordered a bottle of wine for the two of you after looking to you for the okay which you gave with a smile and nod. Kate leaned into him just so as he ordered an appetizer for you to share. You were not normally a fan of guys who ordered for their dates but something about the way Ben did was incredibly sexy.

"Is that alright my darling?" He asked. His eyes were wide and innocent, a slight blush on his cheeks.

He's so considerate. And completely oblivious.

You could see the annoyed look on Kate's face as he addressed you. You smirked.

"Of course, whatever you want. I trust you." You said and placed your hand on top of his that was resting on the table. His smile grew so wide it took up his entire face.

He's gonna kill me with that smile.

He flipped his hand over in yours so he could hold it properly. He glanced down at them then back up to you, a questioning look on his face. You smiled and squeezed his hand in reassurance. His wide smile was back again.

"I'll go put this in." Kate said, trying to pull his focus.

"Thank you." He replied and held the menus out of her to take. His eyes never leave you. You felt a surge of confidence pull through your whole body. She huffed, took the menus from him.

"Don't we need those to order?" You asked.

"Oh, Ryan said he wanted to make us something special. For us to just order an appetizer and wine and he would take care of the rest."  

Wow VIP treatment. I'm seriously impressed.

Kate rolled her eyes and turned to leave.

"Oh Kate, could we also get some water please?" You smiled at her. You couldn't help that it was a little smug. Before she could answer Ben brought your joint hands up to his lips, placing a kiss to your knuckles before returning them to the table.

Perfect timing you charming bastard.

"Of course." She answered with a fake, forced smile and left. Your eyes returned to Ben. His smile was shining, addictive and contagious. You could feel yours growing to match. The conversation flowed easily. You talked about everything. Gone were any awkward moments. It was like you had known each other for years vs. only a few hours. You both were still shy and nervous at times but were growing more confident and comfortable as dinner went one. After you both had the amazing meal Ryan prepared for you, he came over to the table.

"Well well if it isn't little Jonesy." He laughed and threw his arm around Ben's shoulders, pulled him close and tousled his hair.

"Mate come on. I'm on a bloody date. Stop it." He struggled to get out of his friend's hold. Ryan laughed and placed a big smacking kiss on Ben’s cheek.

“Muah! Missed you mate.”

“Yeah yeah I missed you too. Now get off of me.” He shook him off but he was grinning the entire time. Ryan shoved at his shoulder with a matching grin before turning his attention to you.

"You must be Y/N, It's a pleasure to meet you." He said, offering his hand to shake.

"And you. Thank you so much for that meal. It was amazing. You are very talented" You gushed and met his hand with yours.

"Great taste and extremely beautiful." Ryan said letting your hand go and leaning into Ben's side.

"That she is." Ben answered, his eyes trained on you. Your heart fluttered.

"She's far too good for you Jonesy." Ryan joked.

"Don't I know it." You were sure your face was red and flushed.

Well that couldn't be more untrue. I'm so worried you're going to realise I'm just an average girl and then you'll be gone.

"Alright shove over, let's catch up for a bit." Ryan said grabbing a chair from a nearby table and pulling it up to yours. Ben slid his chair over to make room.

Oh shit, here we go nerves.

He was now sitting next to you rather than across. His arm instinctively draped over the back of your chair.

Okay, okay deep breath. Fuck he smells so good. No more deep breaths.

The boys chatted away, mostly about what they've been up to and Ryan's family. Ryan asked what you did, you told him and explained that was how you and Ben met.

"You know I would love to do a piece on you." You said taking a sip of wine. Having Ryan there had calmed your nerves, took some of the pressure off. You were relaxed and you could tell Ben was too. He leaned back in his chair, arm still draped over the back of yours. You were lent forwards, elbows on the table engaged in the conversation.

"Me?" Ryan laughed surprised.

"Yeah, I think the people would love to learn about the head chef at the new hot spot. I mean only if you're interested that is. You don't have to. Just a thought."

“That sounds good. Jonesy can give you my number, give me a call and we’ll set it up.” You smiled, feeling proud.This was gonna get you some serious points with your boss.

“Alright, I'm going to stop hogging your date and get back to work. Y/N it really was a pleasure meeting you. I look forward to seeing you again.” He said leaning over to place a kiss on your cheek.

“Jonesy I’ll see you soon for babysitting.” He laughed, hugged his friend and whispered to him.

“She seems perfect for you mate, don’t fuck it up.” Ben laughed and kissed his cheek the same way Ryan had upon arriving at the table.

“I’m sending you guys some desert so get comfortable.” He said before leaving. You turned to look at Ben over your shoulder, he was grinning at you.

"What?" You asked, now matching his grin. He brought the hand that was draped over the back of your chair, up to your exposed back and let the tips of his fingers run across the skin. Despite feeling hot all over, you shivered and goosebumps appeared.

"I've never seen him take to someone so fast. Especially someone I'm interested in."

Ok butterflies, calm down.

“I guess that means I'm pretty awesome.” You joked and leaned back in your chair, turned towards him, your knees now touching. His hand moved to the side of your face. He brushed a piece of hair behind your ear and let his finger gently continue over the shell of your ear, down your jaw and across your chin. Your heart was hammering in your chest. His touch was so soft and gentle you couldn't help but lean into him slightly.

Fuck. Me. Up.

“I’d say pretty awesome doesn't even begin to cover it.”

I swear if you don't kiss me right fuckin now i will exploed.

As if he was reading your thoughts he leaned in slowly, giving you the chance to pull away. He was so close now, you could feel his soft, warm breath across your face.

"Here's your desert." Kate, the waitress interrupted and placed a plate of chocolate covered strawberries on the table between you.

God damn it!

She had a satisfied smirk on her face.

Bitch

Ben pulled back, cleared his throat and offered a weak smile to Kate. It took everything in you not to huff and pout like a child not getting the toy they wanted.

"Chef asked me to give you this." Kate said and passed what looked like the check to Ben before leaving again. You watched as his eyes traveled over it and a grin spread across his face.

"Cheeky shit." He laughed and handed it to you. It was a note from Ryan.

Dinner is on me. Not because of you Jonesy, cause your beautiful date. She charmed the pants off me. The wife's gettin lucky tonight! Hope you are too.

A warm blush spread across your cheeks.

"Well that was very sweet of him." You said trying not to focus on the "hope you get lucky" comment.

"He likes to embarrass me." Ben laughed and nudged the plate towards you. "Strawberry?"

You both ate your dessert and continued to chat. You couldn't believe how easy it was to talk to him. Sure you still got nervous and giddy when he smiled at you and your heart would speed up, making your hands sweat but for the most part your nerves had calmed down enough for you to hold a conversation without stumbling over your words and flushing at the smallest up turn of his lips. When you finished Kate returned to the table to remove the plate and ask if you needed anything else.

“Actually may I borrow your pen?” Ben asked. She nodded and handed it to him. A hopeful look on her face. He took the note from Ryan, turned it over. You watched over his shoulder as he wrote:

Thanks for dinner you sexy man. See you soon for babysitting.

And signed it with a heart.

Kate looked disappointed.

Ha!

“Oh me next” You said, getting an idea. You searched your bag for your lipstick. Red lipstick wasn’t really your style but Morgan had convinced you to buy it once and it’s been in your bag ever since. You put it on, making sure to get it in the corners and lay it on thick. You could see Ben watching you out of the corner of your eye. His mouth was parted slightly and his eyes followed your hand as it traveled across your lips. You smirked at him a little as you rubbed your lips together before pressing your lips to the paper, leaving a perfect kiss mark. You wrote a quick thank you next to it.

“He’s gonna love that.” Ben said, his voice deep and a little rough.

Holy hotness batman

He gave Kate her pen back and asked if she would pass the note back to him. She agreed and left with the plate and note. Ben stood and held his hand out to you.

“Ready love?”

Your heart jumped a little.

Fuck I hope i never get used to hearing that

“Ready” You slyly wiped your sweaty hands on your dress before placing your hand in his. He helped you up and intertwined your fingers, pulling you close to his side as you both walked out of the restaurant. The car ride back to your apartment was filled with laughs. Ben was telling you stories about him and Ryan and all the crazy things they used to do, how they met, how Ryan met his wife and when Ryan asked Ben to be Olivia’s godfather.

When he pulled into the parking lot of your building he insisted on walking you to your door. ‘All part of the perfect gentleman package’ he told you. He took your hand again during the elevator ride up to your floor and swung your connected hands slightly as he walked you to your apartment and released it when you stood in front of the door.

Ok, goodnight kiss, let's do this!

"Thank you Ben, I had a really great time." He took a small step forward and placed one hand on your hip, your heart sped up. His hand felt heavy and the heat coming from him being so close spread through your entire body.

"So did I. Thank you for agreeing to go out with me tonight. I never do this kind of thing but I couldn't leave your office without a definite way to see you again." He laughed a little to ease his nerves, his head leaning slightly closer to you.

Oh god ok, breath

"Well I'm very glad you did." You said, much softer than you intended. Ben had his bottom lip trapped between his teeth as his eyes traveled over your face, landing on your lips. He was close and you could feel his breath across your face again, like at the restaurant. His heavy hand still firm on your hip, his thumb now rubbing along soothingly.

Please kiss me

He brought his other hand up to the side of your face, letting the tips of his fingers run over your cheekbone.

Pleeeease kiss me

You took a chance and placed your hand at the nape of his neck, letting your fingers intertwine in his hair. He smiled and licked his lips.

PAH-LEEAS KISS ME DAMN IT!

"Y/N, can I kiss you?" He whispered.

FUCKIN FINALLY!

Too afraid you'd actually say what you were thinking, you nodded. He smiled and leaned in slowly to close the space between you. You instantly felt an electric shock travel through you causing you to move closer towards him and tug on his hair. He moaned into the kiss and slid his hand from your hip to your back, pulling you flush against him.

You sighed at the feeling of him being pressed against you and your lips parted. Ben wasted no time and slid his tongue along yours. You moaned and let your unoccupied hand glide up his torso, feeling his tight muscles under his shirt to rest on his chest. Ben's hand that was near your face moved to join his other on your back.

Your entire body was on fire, your head spinning, either from the intensity of the kiss or the lack of oxygen, you weren't sure. Just when you were about to pull back to see if he wanted to move things inside, he slid one of his hands down to rest on the curve of your ass.

You whined and pushed back into his hand. He moaned and gripped your ass roughly, causing you to involuntarily snap your hips forward into his. He moaned again and finally pulled away. Ben was panting heavily, his lips were swollen and red, his cheeks flushed and warm. You were sure you looked the same.

Alright, say something cool and invite him inside

You opened your mouth to speak but he beat you to it.

"I can't do this." Your heart dropped and you could feel the color drain from your face.

A/N: Sorry for the cliffhanger but i need to make sure you come back! Don’t hate me!

[writesowhatnext]

observant is not his middle name // kylo ren

Summary: barista!reader is pleasantly surprised when modern!kylo notices her new do (coffeeshop!au)

Request: Hey sweetie, can I have an imagine of Kylo Ren and the reader dating? She decides to change her hair color without telling him. She goes from blonde to red and she gets his reaction. Thanks! ❤️

A/N: I changed it a little because I had more ideas with them not dating yet also I do treasure a good coffee shop au

Reader: unspecified

Warnings: customer service lol

“My coffee was cold!”

“Ma’am-“

“When I order coffee, I expect it to be hot-“

“Ma’am-“

“Don’t Ma’am me, I’m twenty-seven!”

The woman on the other side of the counter slammed her espresso down next to your hand. Drops of brown liquid splattered up your sleeve and over the surface. Well, she was right. It wasn’t hot. You looked from your hand to her face, struggling to keep a polite smile on your face. She definitely was not twenty-seven.

“I am never coming here again!”

You watched her turn on her heels, not bothering to make sure she left; if you were lucky, she’d keep her promise. You threw the cup away, slightly disgusted as it perched between your thumb and forefinger.

The queue behind the woman moved up and a very tall, very wide, very dark figure stepped closer. You looked up from the surface you were wiping down to see a very handsome man. Very handsome indeed. He was almost excessively tall, with big, broad shoulders and strangely pretty features.

“She seemed nice.” He said, raising his eyebrows. You couldn’t help your snort.

“What can I get you today?” you asked, offering a tired smile. He was really very attractive, you thought.

“Uh… an americano and,” he paused, frowning. You raised your eyebrow as he pulled his phone out, his frown deepening. “a soya macchiato?”

Cute too, it seemed.

He looked at you if to check that such a drink existed. You chuckled a little, nodding.

“Coming right up. Anything else?”

“No,” he stared at you, eyes narrowing a little. An amused smile played on his lips. “Thanks.”

“That’ll be five dollars.”

As you put his money away, grimacing slightly at how sticky your hands were from that lady’s espresso, he stalled at the counter. You looked up at him, a question on the tip of your tongue.

“I sure hope it’s hot.” He said, clearly teasing with his raised eyebrow and lips pursed. “Wouldn’t want to have to come back here.”

You bit your lip to try to hide your smile. He watched you with a smile of his own as you tongued the inside of your cheek. You were sort of disappointed when he left without saying anything else.

The next time you saw your tall, dark and handsome stranger you were making drinks, pulling at the blonde strands of your hair between orders.

“I’m bored with my hair.” You said, turning to your co-worker. “I’m thinking of dyeing it.”

“What colour?” she replied, passing you a piece of paper with the next order on.

“Blue? Red maybe? I’m not sure yet.”

You made the coffee on autopilot as your co-worker carried on taking orders. With an americano in one hand and soya macchiato in the other, you went to the to-go shelf, stopping short silently when you looked into familiar brown eyes. He brightened up slightly when he saw you, a fact you enjoyed immensely.

“I forgot about you and your soya macchiato.” You said, sliding the cups over with a teasing smile.

“Am I that forgettable?”

You knew he knew he wasn’t.

“Desperately.”

He mocked a wounded expression.

“See you around.” He said, lips lifted in a half-smile.

Hopefully, you thought.

He didn’t look back as he left. When the door eventually closed behind him, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“What was that about?” you co-worker asked, smiling very, very smugly.

“Shut up.” You said, ripping the order note from her hand and turning away.

It was hard to admit but you were unavoidably hoping your mysterious stranger would return; for the next few days, you were always on the lookout for him. After a week, you decided you were being stupid and you needed to, as the kids say, get a life. So, you did what everybody does when they are met with a mild inconvenience, you dyed your hair. You weren’t completely sure about the red, honestly, but you’d had a few compliments so, you decided to stick with it for a while.

“Y/N!” your co-worker called from behind the counter. You hurried your cleaning, picking up empty mugs and napkins where you could.

“Yes.” You said, placing the cups in the washing rack and throwing the other stuff away. “What do you need?”

“How long left on your shift?”

You looked at the clock, grinning. “’Bout two minutes, why?”

She pointed at a tray with two cups on and a club sandwich.

“Can you take that to table fourteen before you leave?”

It took you about three minutes to remember where table fourteen was, distractedly thinking about how excited you were to finally have a day where you didn’t have to actually do anything. When you finally found it, you were quite optimistic about who was sitting there. You could only see him from behind but those broad shoulders, the dark hair – quite distinctive. He was sat across from a ginger man with pale skin and a bored expression.

“Coffees and a club sandwich?” you said, stopping next to the table, holding the tray with one hand. You placed the club sandwich on the table, aware of his eyes on you.

“Your hair is red.”

You huffed a laugh, looking at the cups to see what was in them.

“Someone’s observant today.”

A soft blush covered his cheeks; your heart went a little mushy at how endearing it was.

“Americano.” You said, placing the darker drink in front of him before turning to his friend who was looking between you and his friend suspiciously. “I assume you’re the mysterious soya macchiato?”

He frowned at your words but thanked you anyway.

“Hope you enjoy.”

“Hey,” your favourite customer said as you began to turn away. “When do you finish?”

If you looked up ecstatic in the dictionary, there would be a picture of you at that exact moment, red hair and all.

“In about thirty seconds.” You replied, not looking away from him.

“Perfect.” He wetted his lip. “Meet me here in ten minutes?”

You looked at his friend expectantly.

“He’s just leaving.”

You suppressed your smile at his excuse and his friend’s eye roll.

“Ten minutes.”

You weren’t sure exactly what you did in those ten minutes. You definitely spent about four of them doing a happy dance that you hoped would never see the light of day. You also messed with your hair for about another four; you couldn’t decide how to style it best. It took you another two minutes to undo the knot you’d made on your apron. You cursed past-you for busting out some Scout level manoeuvres, instead of finding a normal knot sufficient. You practically ran from the back room, into the café itself. And then you stopped, careful to not look so keen. A monument of grace and decorum, you were. You saw him sat at the same table, now alone, with an empty plate and his large hand resting on his coffee cup. His knee was bouncing under the table.

“Hi.” You said, suddenly nervous. He looked up at you, a slightly awestruck expression on his face before he pointed to the seat opposite him.

“Please, sit.”

As you sat, you felt his eyes on your face.

“My name’s Kylo.” He leant his elbows on the table, mouth pressed against his fists.

“Interesting name.”

“Interesting enough to learn yours?”

You pursed your lips to contain your smile.

“Y/N. It’s on my name tag.”

“I’m never looking at your name tag.” He didn’t look away from your face. He was glad he didn’t when your eyes widened and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth.

“I think your hair suits you.” He rested his hands on his forearms atop the table, leaning forward with his impossibly large shoulders.

“Thank you.” You frowned slightly. “I wasn’t too sure myself, considered just bleaching it-“

“No.” he said almost too eagerly. “Keep it. It’s good. It looks good.”

You smiled, pleased that he seemed to be as affected by you as you were by him.

“Yeah?” you tucked a strand behind your ear. “I’m glad you think so.”

The tension between you was palpable. You had no idea what either of you were going to do next but you got a strange sort of high from the whole experience. He bit the inside of his cheek, brows drawing together.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

BTS DRABBLE-Jin

Anon Request: Reader, a dancer, is Jin’s girlfriend. She does not have contact or a close relationship with her family. 

Tags: BTS, Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof Boy Scouts, Beyond the Scene, BTS Drabble, my asks, my requests, fluff, Kim Seokjin, Jin, Seokjin x reader, Seokjin x you

Genre: Fluff, Mild, Mild Angst

Title: The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

“Okay, and then locke step,” You reach up as you move, adjusting and pushing the microphone looped over your ears against your lips to be heard over the loud music coming from the speakers, “Arms up, and turn, and then grapevine left.” You snap your fingers as you demonstrate the steps, warning loudly, “Eyes up, watch yourselves in the mirror.” 

You pause, watching the group of dancers before you shrewdly as they repeat the moves several times, making sure that everyone is demonstrating correctly and in their right positions, and reaching out for the stereo, you switch the music off, the room echoing into silence, as you nod. “Good. That was looking good.” You weave your way through the rows of dancers, ticking off on your fingers as you adjust various shoulders and legs and arms. “Just remember to stay in these exact positions, because when we start practicing on the stage, and then eventually with the boys, we don’t want any accidents.” You return to the front of the room, crossing your arms over your chest. “Don’t crowd their space, don’t get anywhere near the edge of the platform, and definitely don’t encroach on their positions-you’ll mess the whole choreography up that way.” 

“Jagi. Come on. It’s almost Christmas. You’re still keeping these guys here? Have a heart.” 

You glance over your shoulder as the familiar, amused, warm voice fills the room and Jin enters, sneakers padding softly across the wood of the practice room floor, smile radiant, wearing his usual pink sweatsuit that makes an appearance on long days at the studio. 

“We were only staying as long as you guys were.” You retort back, rolling your eyes at him, before you adjust the loop of the microphone once more and glance back at the expectant dancers. “Now that you’re done, we are too. Go home, guys.” There is an overall sigh of relief, as the dancers slouch their shoulders and head to the various corners of the room to grab their bags. “I’ll see you in two weeks!” You call out over the noise of bustling, waving a finger at the mass in general as you say sternly, “Don’t forget to keep loose and practice!” 

“You know, you’re starting to sound like Hobi.” Jin says low in your ear, his arms encircling your waist, the soft material of his very expensive hoodie warm and soft against your bare, sweaty skin. “You don’t have to go so hard. They’re always perfect.” 

“That’s because I go so hard.” You scoff, but you can already feel the annoyance draining from your tone as he leans over to kiss your cheek, before releasing you to get your things. “I’m a good teacher because I don’t accept anything less than perfect. You know that, Jin.” 

“No,” Jin intones back, leaning against the wall of the now empty practice room, watching with a slight smile on his face as you throw on a hoodie over your sports bra and lean down to grab your duffel bag. “You’re a good teacher because you’re you, Jagi.” 

“Ew. Shut up.” you wrinkle your nose in disgust at his mushy compliment, even though warmth blooms in your chest at his words. “Come on, Let’s go.” You grab his hand in yours, large fingers warm against your own, dragging him behind you as you flip off the lights and leave the practice room. “Aren’t Hobi and Jimin making all of us do something ridiculously festive against our will tonight?” 

Jin chuckles, trotting to catch up to you, as he slings his long arm over your shoulders and tugs you against his side as you walk toward the elevator. “That’s the plan. We’re having Christmas together before everyone leaves to see their families for the week.” 

“Fine.” You sigh, rolling your eyes, making Jin laugh again. You wave your finger at him menacingly, “I’ll do it for Hobi and Jimin. But don’t think this means I got you a present.” 

He holds up his hands as you enter the elevator, mirth evident in his voice and his bright eyes as he exclaims, “Yeah, yeah. I know the rules, you Grinch.” 

You slug him in the shoulder at his joke, and he laughs once more, as the elevator doors close on the darkened BigHit Building. 

********

“Okay, okay.” Jimin says, laughter still lightening his words, as he wipes his eyes and takes a sip of his eggnog, before motioning to the pile of presents under the brightly lit tree in the corner. “Who’s next?” 

“I’ll go.” Namjoon speaks up from where he is reclining against the couch, and crawling forward, he selects a poorly wrapped present from beneath the tree and tosses it over to Jungkook, who catches it easily in the palm of one hand. “I had JK.” 

“Who wrapped your present, RM?” Yoongi leans over to look at the package in Jungkook’s hands and snorts out a laugh. “A blind T-Rex?” 

“Wrapping things isn’t my forte. Breaking things is.” Namjoon replies easily, shrugging his shoulders as he settles back against the edge of the couch once more.

Everyone watches eagerly as Jungkook begins to open his secret Santa present, but your gaze is dragged over to Jin, who is sitting beside you on the couch, one arm slung over your shoulders, the other hand now squeezing your fingers tightly between his own, which has drawn your attention. 

“What?” You mouth over to him, raising a brow in his direction, as he flashes you a grin, teeth white against plush, pink lips. 

“Who did you have?” He leans over to whisper, glancing between you and JK, who is now gushing over the piece of recording equipment Namjoon got him, as the others lean in to admire his present. 

“I’m not telling.” You sniff, turning your head away from him, as you bite back a smile, knowing that not knowing your secret Santa recipient has been driving him crazy. 

“Ah, come on, Jagi.” Jin groans, throwing his head back on the couch, as Taehyung volunteers to go next. He pouts in your direction. “It’s not like it’s going to be a secret for much longer. I’ll tell you mine!” 

“You told me yours the moment we drew names.” You tease back quietly, as Taehyung moves across the room to hand his present to a suddenly shy Yoongi in the face of all the attention.

“Damn it.” Jin mumbles beneath his breath, making you laugh and poke your finger into his ribs. 

“(Y/N)!” You look up, the smile from teasing Jin still on your lips, as Jimin excitedly waves to you from across the room, motioning to the now smaller pile of presents as he does so. “It’s your turn!” 

Sighing, but putting on a large smile for Jimin and Hobi, who absolutely love Christmas, while you do not, you leave Jin and cross the room to grab the small package you had carefully wrapped from under the tree. 

Holding aloft the brightly colored parcel, you roll your eyes at Jin, who is finding your lackluster enjoyment amusing, and say loudly, “I had Hobi.” 

Hobi gasps excitedly at your announcement, and he pulls you into a tight, all encasing hug as you hand him the present, before you can escape, his smile as bright as the sun, as he shrieks, “Oh, (Y/N)! Thank you!” 

You nod and slip from his grasp and back to the safety of Jin’s side, as Hobi starts to excitedly and messily strip the wrapping paper from the present, his eyes growing into the size of saucers as your gift is revealed, his mouth dropping into the shape of an “O” as his gaze meets yours and he says softly, “Did you make this?” 

You nod, a slight blush coming across your cheeks, as Hobi, almost reverently, pulls the small, leather laced, designer bag from the rest of the packaging for the others to see, admiring with astonishment the carefully painted yellow sunshine on one side, and the scrawled red words that form “J-Hope” on the other side of the bag. 

“Wow, (Y/N).” Yoongi says dryly, shooting you a teasing look from where he sits beside Hobi. “Maybe you do have a heart after all.” 

“Don’t get the wrong idea.” You snark back, as he sends you a wink. 

“All right, (Y/N) wins Christmas.” Jimin says, holding his glass of refilled eggnog aloft in a salut to you from across the room. 

“And to think, we all lost to the biggest Grinch in the room.” Taehyung jokes, flashing a boxy smile at you, as you raise your own glass of hot cider in his direction, tipping your head in acknowledgement to his shade. 

“Are you going home for Christmas, Noona?” Jungkook asks, setting aside his recording gear, as he looks at you with wide, curious, dark eyes. 

“Oh, um.” You stumble over the words, caught off guard by his question, suddenly uncomfortable, your fingers fidgeting with Jin’s in your lap. “No, actually.” You hesitate momentarily, wondering how much you should say, but decide that it doesn’t really matter at this point. “My family didn’t want me to study dance. So when I came to Seoul to attend the academy, I lost all contact with them. It’s been about five years now.” 

There is a moment of silence, as the boys consider your words, Jimin and Hobi looking between one another, sending secret looks of sympathy, Jungkook staring at you wide eyed, Jin pressing his fingers into the palm of your hand as a sign of warm comfort. 

Clearing your throat, you force a smile onto your face and shrug slightly. “It’s not a big deal, Kook. I’m kind of used to being alone now.” 

“No.” 

You glance up, slightly startled, as JIn’s suddenly stern voice pierces the quiet of the room, the one word spilling past his lips with utmost fervency and feeling, as he glances between the rest of the boys, and then back to you, turning and shifting slightly so he can take both hands in his own large ones. 

“No, jagi. You’re not alone. Not anymore.” His eyes, dark and shining with the firmness of his words, bore into your own, and his fingers clench tightly, digging slightly into the skin on the back of your hands. “When you started dating me, you got all of us, whether you like it or not. We’re your family now.” 

The other boys nod at the end of JIn’s statement, and you suddenly feel tears welling behind your eyelids. Sniffing and ducking your head from their view so they won’t notice the sudden sheen on your irises, you clear your throat, and gaining control of yourself, you say carefully, “Thank you, Jin. That means a lot.” 

“Okay, Okay.” Jimin claps his hands, crossing the room to turn off the light, so that the only light is now coming softly from the gleaming of the christmas tree. “Let’s sing some carols.” 

There are groans from various members, sounding mainly like Yoongi and Namjoon and maybe Jin from beside you, but Jimin ignores them with a glare, waving his hands as the boys join reluctantly in singing a Christmas carol with him. 

“Hey, Jin.” You lean over, whispering in his ear beneath the swell of the boys’ singing. 

“Hmm?” He hums back under his breath, glancing over at you in the dim light, his eyes even darker, reflecting the twinkling lights from the Christmas tree. 

You grin at him and nuzzle your face into his neck as you rest your head on his shoulder, intertwining his fingers more tightly with yours. “Maybe I got you a Christmas present after all.” 

[justsimplypretty]

ILYSB - (n.m.)

Storyline: Story about the reader and Nick celebrating their anniversary in the most adorable way. 

Author’s Note: Just a little soft!nick for you guys! I got in my feels while writing this one thats for sure. I just feel like Nick’s the type to go all out and be really mushy for a girl he’s all about! Brb while I go find someone to do this for me!

Enhance the Experience: This section is for visuals and content that went through my mind when writing this story. 

I got inspired from this cute Pinterest picture I’ll insert here. Also, the song ILYSB (Stripped) - LANY kept going through my head while writing this one.

Warning: None

Word count: 1.3K

The sun lit up the room slightly from your not fully shut black out curtains. Not bright enough to startle you but just bright enough to peacefully wake you up. You rolled over pretty groggy with little recollection of the night before. You tried to process what time it was and why your boyfriend Nick wasn’t laying next to you like usual. You slowly started to remember bits and pieces of the night before.

Nick had rolled into your shared apartment around one in morning completely exhausted from being at the studio. See tonight, he had anticipated being home a little before midnight to surprise you and celebrate. But of course this night, one of the most important nights, everything took longer than expected. The vocals weren’t lining up correctly, tracks kept having to be reclipped, and every single thing the boys recorded took take after take after take to get perfected. All of this causing Nick to walk into the bedroom super late and find you already fast asleep in bed.

He let out a light sigh from disappointment in not being able to execute his plan before you fell asleep. But even with the let down, he still took a moment to admire how beautiful you looked. Fast asleep in your favorite t-shirt of his while holding on tightly to the pillow from his side of the bed. It was the cutest thing he’d ever witnessed.

You squinted your eyes a little as you picked up your phone to see what time it was. But 8:45am wasn’t the only thing you had noticed on your lock screen. Seeing the date right underneath caused your heart to warm and the biggest smile to string across your face. It was you and Nick’s two-year anniversary. You couldn’t believe it had already been two years with the love of your life. And though you hadn’t forgotten about your anniversary, you had spent so much time and effort looking for the perfect gift for Nick you didn’t even register how close it really was.

You eagerly jumped out of the bed, slid into your cozy slippers, while fixing your messy bun in the large circle mirror that hung on the bedroom wall. You quickly walked over to the closet digging deep into one of your handbags where you had hidden his anniversary gift. You laughed in your head because you always knew this was the perfect hiding spot. Nick always joked that your purses were all too expensive for him to ever touch so he steered clear of ever messing with them. Making it the perfect secret spot for the past two weeks.

The small black box was tied with a silky red bow with a white tag that read...

“My Nick,

Thank you for the best two years of my life. I love you always.

Forever yours, (Y/N)”

You hurried with the gift in hand out of the closet, running down the hall hoping to find your boyfriend lounging in the living room. You could hear faint music planning from living room, causing your fast walk to turn into a light jog as you raced to meet him. You had made it in record timing as you screamed upon entering the room “Happy Anni-” you stopped mid sentence. You were now in complete stand still as you stood in Aw of the sight in front of you.

Nick at set up the room to be romantic dream. Tiny lit candles made a path on the floor that lead to him at the end while others were created into the shape of a hearts on either side. The ceiling was filled with at least a hundred red and white balloons while roses and rose petals covered every other surface in sight from the coffee table, to the couch, to every small inch on the floor. It was something straight out of a movie and for a split second, you had to remind yourself that you weren’t still dreaming.

“Anniversary” Nick said finishing your cut off sentence from earlier as he began walking towards you.

“Well... what do you think?” He said eager to hear your thoughts.

You were processing so many emotions at once you couldn’t even keep up. So overwhelmed in feelings and not even expecting to, you started uncontrollably sobbing right in front of him.

Nick immediately started to second guess everything, becoming insecure about the entire set up. He had never seen you cry this much unless you were overly upset by something. He immediately ran up to you bring you both face to face.

“Oh my gosh you hate it don’t you? Ugh I knew I should have done this last night like I had originally planned” Nick said annoyed while recalling his tarnished plans from last night.

“Nick I-” you said trying to stop him in the middle of your sobs.

“Or maybe I shouldn’t have done this at all because it’s too much. What was I thinking getting the guys input on how to set it up? It’s too extra isn’t it?” He continued in more frustration.

“No Nick it’s-I” you tried yet again to stop his rambling still in tears.

“I just wanted to do something out of the ordinary for you because that’s what you deserve. Extraordinary. Every single day. For this anniversary and the many anniversaries to come” Nick went on while you stood there still in shock, no longer making an effort to stop him and letting his rant continue.

“You just mean the world to me (Y/N) and I would do anything to show you just how much being with you these past two years has really meant to me. I see, my family sees, even the guys see just how much better my world has been since the day you came into it. The last thing I wanted to do was ruin today so please tell me how I can make it up to you my love?” Nick finished finally allowing you to speak as he held your wet face in his hands.

“Nick... this... you... everything is just... perfect” you tried to explain still feeling a wash of emotions.

“Wait really? You like it” Nick replied as sudden relief filled his face and he began to smile at you.

“No baby, I love it. Just as much as I love you” you continued leaning in for a kiss.

He lightly whipped your tears that hadn’t yet dried with his sleeve while bringing you into a tight embrace. But he began to pull away slowing as he caught a glimpse of the tiny box in your hand.

“What’s this?” He questioned.

“A gift that doesn’t even compare to what you’ve done for me” you said now being insecure about your own gift.

“Come on I’m sure it’s great” he continued as he unraveled the bow and opened the box.

Inside lied a custom gold linked chain with a tiny padlock hooked onto the end that had your name written on the back in the most angelic cursive writing. Along with it came four other dainty gold chains that were all in a similar style to the ones you’d seen him wear many times over the years.

“You know... just so I’m with you... even when I’m not” you said trying to justify your thought process when getting this gift. “You weren’t the only one who had a little input from the guys” you said jokingly.

Nick wrapped his arms around you tighter than usual as he whispered in your ear. “This is the most thoughtful gift anyone’s ever gotten me. How did I get so lucky?” He said in complete shock still while looking down at the gift.

“I ask myself that same question about you every single day. Happy anniversary Nick” you replied.

“Happy anniversary beautiful” Nick said finishing off your gift exchange with the most loving kiss.

[freddiesaysalright]

My Man Part X

A Ben!Roger Taylor x Reader Fic

Summary: Reader is a Broadway actress currently starring in a West End production of Funny Girl. She’s a widow, thanks to the Vietnam War, but it’s a well-kept secret. She also wants everyone to think she doesn’t care for rock music. She met Roger Taylor when he brought his date backstage. They didn’t start off great, but a party at Freddie’s turned them around. Now, they’re friends. After she was attacked by a director, Roger is there for her. Then she gets a surprise visitor with some wise words for her. Her brother and her director drop some bombs on her. After getting a role in a new show in order to stay in London, she gets closure after her attack and is ready to take a big step with Rog. He’s ready to take an even bigger one.

Word Count: 2.6K

Tag List: @bohemian-war, @kittygirlno, @rebelrebelyourefaceisamess, @rockyroadthepastryarchy, @goodoldfashionedloverboyy, @jennyggggrrr, @discodeacygotmorerhythm, @x1975sos, @slytherinxval, @cyndagoaway, @doingalrightt, @lovvliies, @hopefully-aesthetically-pleasing, @capsparrowtara, @they-call-me-peaches, @hyosong, @riddikuluslypotter, @orchideax, @shishterfackisback

A/N: This is the final part of My Man. Thank you all for the wonderful feedback and love you’ve shown this story. I have so enjoyed writing it. I even made a playlist for it! It’s on Spotify, and you can check it out here  I have Brian story in the early stages but it could be a while before it takes off. In the meantime, send me requests! I’ll be happy to write just for y’all!

Part I  Part II  Part III  Part IV  Part V Part VI  Part VII  Part VIII  Part IX

Part X here we go!!!

“Y/N, let’s get married.”

You blinked at him a few times, unsure if you’d heard him right. Was he honestly proposing to you right now? It was the last thing you expected and you didn’t really know how to feel. You’d only known Roger a few months. You’d been married before. You’d had a life in America as well. Could you give all that up?

“Roger, I…” you trailed off. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Say yes,” he replied as if it were obvious.

“It’s not that simple,” you said. “We haven’t known each other very long and I’ve been…”

“I know you’ve been married before,” he said.

“I also had a whole life,” you continued. “Friends, Jack, George’s grave. All of that is back home.”

“Your friends and brother can visit,” he came back with. “And George...look, he’s always gonna be with you. You carry his memory and honor him, not some headstone.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but had no words. Why were you fighting this? You loved Roger and you wanted to be with him forever. Nothing else mattered. George would have wanted you to find happiness, and you did.

“Yes,” you said, and you weren’t even sure if it was you.

“Sorry?” he replied, putting his hand to his ear and smiling.

You beamed at him. “Yes, Roger, I’ll marry you!”

You threw your arms around his neck and he rolled on top of you again. You kissed for what felt like years, and you were so elated, you couldn’t stop smiling. Roger whispered “I love you” between kisses over and over again. You repeated it back to him. You were drowning in sea of adoration and neither you or Roger were going to come up for air.

You fell asleep in each others’ arms. At home.

When you woke, the early morning light was just barely peeking through the blinds. Roger was already up, and you heard his voice coming softly from the living room. You guessed he was on the phone, so you got up to start breakfast. When you opened the door to head to the kitchen, you stopped. Roger was standing at your mantle, his back to your bedroom door. He wasn’t on the phone, but he was talking. To George. Your heart melted as you listened.

“Thanks, I suppose, for being her husband and doing all you did,” he was saying. “She’s a wonderful woman and she wouldn’t be who she is without you. I’m - uh - I’m gonna try and be as good a husband to her as you were. I’ll take care of her, no matter what, so - wherever you are - you don’t need to worry. I’ve got it from here. Rest easy, mate.”

You felt tears prick your eyes but you rubbed them away. You didn’t want him to know you’d heard. It felt so private, but you were glad you heard too. It made you love Roger impossibly more. You wanted to go to him and tell him how much it meant to you. But instead you stretched, yawned and opened the door a little wider, pretending you had only just woken up.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he said, turning to face you.

“Good morning,” you replied as he wrapped you up in his arms. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said. “But we are getting entirely too mushy.”

You giggled. “Want me to start being rude to you again?”

“Maybe every once in a while, just to keep me grounded.”

“That can be arranged.”

You had breakfast together before you each had to go to rehearsals - you to your new show and Roger with Queen. All through rehearsal you felt on top of the world because a single thought hovered at the back of your mind: I’m engaged to Roger Taylor, love of my life. It didn’t scare you. You were ready to be a wife - his wife. You felt incredibly lucky to have found love once with George, and you didn’t know how you had earned another shot at it with Roger. But you would not take it for granted.

After rehearsal at She Loves Me, you went to Funny Girl to get ready for the night’s show. You didn’t even feel tired. Nothing could spoil the happiness you felt.

The show went well, and you headed home. Your feet hurt a little now, after being on them all day, but you still felt a leap of excitement in your chest when you saw Roger on the couch. He grinned at you as you took a seat beside him.

“You’re a busy woman now,” he remarked.

You hummed against him, your exhaustion hitting you like a wall now that you were home. He put his arm around your shoulders.

“I’ve got something for you,” he said.

You looked up at him. “You do?”

He nodded and then reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a small, velvet box. You gasped. He opened it to reveal a delicate diamond ring. It was small, but very beautiful.

“Would you wear this?” he asked, and you saw pink spreading across his cheeks. “It’s not much, I know. Not even a full carat. Just a diamond chip. But it was my mother’s and -”

You cut him off with a kiss. “It’s beautiful,” you said. “I’ll wear it forever.”

The look on his face as you said this made your chest actually ache with love for him. He had tears in his eyes. He blinked them back as he looked at  you, and then slid the ring onto your finger.

“I’d love to meet her,” you said. “You mother.”

“You’d love her,” he told you. “She’ll love you too, I promise. Even if you are an American.”

You chuckled and pulled him close, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Rog,” you said after a beat. “Do...do you want children?”

“Oh, yeah,” he replied without hesitation. “‘Course I do. Especially with you.”

“Good,” you said and kissed his cheek.

You went to bed shortly after, and Roger made love to you twice before you actually fell asleep. You were out hard, but in the early morning hours, you were woken by Roger crying out beside you. You sat upright and recognized it once again. He was having another nightmare, only this one must have been much worse. You called to him for several minutes, but he wasn’t waking up. His body thrashed and you felt a twinge of fear. What could you do?

“Roger!” you yelled, since using a normal volume wasn’t working. “Roger, wake up!”

You reached out a hesitant hand, worried he might lash out against your touch. But you had to do something. You couldn’t just let him suffer this way. You took hold of his shoulders and shook him. When his eyes snapped open, he grabbed you roughly by the arms. His eyes were wild and frightened.

“Roger,” you said gently. “It’s me, my darling. I’m here. You’re safe.”

His lower lip quivered before he actually let out a sob and yanked you close to him. He buried his face in your chest and wept into you. You wrapped your arms around him and held him tight. You had no words. His clutched handfuls of your nightgown, like a little boy might cling to his mother.

“Y/N,” he whimpered. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop that,” you told him. “I’ve got you, Rog.”

He murmured more apologies to you under his breath, and you shushed him. Then you began to sing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” again. His muscles relaxed beneath your touch and his breathing evened out as you made your way through the song.

“Can you tell me what you dreamt?” you asked when you finished.

He shook his head. “S’too awful.”

“I’m here whenever you’re ready.”

Several long minutes of silence passed between you. He had calmed down but his heart was still beating faster than normal. You rubbed soothing circles on his back.

“It was my dad,” he said finally.

“Your dad?”

He nodded. “Yeah. He used to...beat on us a lot. He was angry. And drunk. One time it got so bad...I actually thought I was gonna die. I was ten.”

He went on, and described a lot of the other abuses he’d suffered. It made you wince at times, hearing the brutality of some of it. You wondered how he had come out of it with such unbridled love for others.

“Oh, Roger, I am so sorry,” you said.

“You’re not worried?” he asked, his voice smaller than you could ever remember hearing.

“Why would I be worried?”

He looked at you and held your gaze. “I’m not him, I promise. I would never, ever...hit you or our kids and I don’t want you to think that because I grew up that way you’ve got to worry about…” he trailed off. “I’ll never do that, Y/N. I swear.”

“I was never worried about that,” you told him. “And I never will. I can’t tell you how sorry I am for all you’ve been through. I’ll never let anybody hurt you again.”

He looked at you with a confused expression. “No one’s ever made that promise to me before.”

“I’m making it to you,” you said. “I made my big brother eat dirt and punched a director in the face. I don’t mess around.”

He finally smiled. “You are very strong, my love.”

“So are you,” you reminded him. “Let’s be strong together.”

“Sure thing, Mrs. Taylor,” he agreed.

On your next day off, you went to the studio with Roger and the guys. They all congratulated you on the engagement as well as your new show. You thanked them earnestly and told them how grateful you were for their support through everything. Then they got in the booth and began their business.

You sat outside it with Paul, who you didn’t know a lot about. Roger hated Paul and complained about him a lot. Called him names you wouldn’t repeat and made you blush, and you had been married to a Marine. Although some of them just made you admire Roger’s creativity. Needless to say, your opinion of Paul was not a high one.

“So,” he said as he took a seat beside you on the couch. “Someone finally made Roger Taylor a one woman man.”

You couldn’t understand what he was trying to get at so you just looked at him blankly, waiting for him to continue.

“Are you so sure he’s committed to you?”

You remembered the night Roger finally told you about his nightmares and the things you promised each other. You remembered him punching your shitty agent and sleeping on your couch so you felt safe. You remembered him teaching you to drum before asking for a dance lesson.

“Yes,” you said. “I’m sure.”

Paul wiped his palms on his jeans and looked down. “Jesus, Y/N, I don’t want to be the one to tell you this, but…” he trailed off. “Roger left the pub last night with a woman. I saw it.”

You remembered Roger telling you he was going out with the guys last night, but it was just going to be Queen and some other music people getting drinks. He had even invited you to go. You had refused, too tired to enjoy it, and told Roger to have fun. He had gotten in around two in the morning, and only woke you briefly when he crawled into bed beside you, smelling like his usual scent of cigarettes and cologne.

You just stared at Paul and felt such a wave of hatred you felt sure he could feel it radiating from you. It was such a shitty thing to do, and you didn’t know what Roger had done to piss Paul off and motivate him to tell you lies.

“No, Paul,” you said levelly, shaking your head. “Roger did not do that.”

He scoffed. “Wh - but I saw him!”

“No, you didn’t.”

“You know what he’s like.”

“Yeah, I do, so I know he didn’t fucking do that.”

Little did you know, the whole time you’d been speaking to Paul, Roger, who had returned to get his drum sticks out of his bag, was listening at the door. He heard your flat denial of Paul’s accusation - which was entirely false - and he swelled with pride. Before Paul could continue, Roger opened the door. Paul actually jumped a little.

“Left my sticks,” Roger said, going over to his bag and retrieving them.

“All right, Roger?” Paul asked.

“Yeah, fuck you, Paul,” he replied coldly.

Roger then went over to you and kissed the top of your head. He went back into the studio and began his practice. You watched him, proud beyond all measure. You knew as you looked at Roger, nothing and no one could take him from you.

The weeks passed, and before you knew it, it was your final night as Fanny Brice in Funny Girl. You were upset to let this show go. It had helped you heal after losing George. It had introduced you to Roger. It was such a place of comfort for you throughout your time in London. You didn’t know how you were going to say goodbye.

Roger promised to be there. Freddie, Brian, and John also decided to come. You saw where they would be sitting beforehand so you could wave to them during your bows. You tucked your hair into your wig cap and heard a knock at the door.

“Roger?” you gasped in pleasant surprise as you opened it. “What are you doing back here?”

He handed you the bouquet he was holding. “I came to tell you to break a leg.”

He placed a sweet peck on your lips as you let him inside.

“Thank you for the flowers,” you said. “They’re lovely.”

“I know they’re usually meant for afterwards,” he said. “But I just couldn’t wait.”

You smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He pulled you into a hug, sensing your emotion.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Just a little sad,” you answered. “I love this show so much. I’m gonna miss being Fanny.”

“This audience is gonna miss you too,” he said. “But you’re gonna be great in She Loves Me. Just as funny, talented, and beautiful as ever.”

“Oh, how you run on,” you teased.

“You’re gonna be great tonight,” he said. “Give it all you’ve got.”

“I will,” you assured him.

With one last “I love you” he left to take his seat.

You finished getting ready and before you hit the stage for the last time, you felt a flutter in your stomach. You were nervous and yet, so excited for the next part of your life you could barely stand it. You took a deep breath, stepped into the lights, and put on the show of a lifetime.

Finally, it was time for the last scene. My Man. You wondered how you were going to get through it tonight. Your own words echoed in your mind: It’s a simple trick, really. I sing it to my husband. Your eyes went to the box where Roger sat, right by the stage, and you met his gaze. A tear fell preemptively down your cheek. You opened your mouth and sang like you’d never sung before. To your husband. Your man. Forever.

Oh my man I love him so, he'll never know

All my life is just despair but I don't care

When he takes me in his arms

The world is bright, alright

What's the difference if I say "I'll go away"

When I know I'll come back on my knees someday

For whatever my man is, I am his

Forever more

[our-smooty]

Flowerbeds and Fertile Soil: Chapter 1

Fandom: Good Omens

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens, )Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer

Tags:  Kidfic, Mpreg kind of, they can choose to present however so idk, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Vulva (Good Omens), OCs galor, parenting, using your snake form to avoid confrontation, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pregnancy, if I missed a tag lemme know

Summary: They could do anything, go anywhere, all without the worry of Above or Bellow making a fuss. Even so, they mostly kept to their little patch of Eden, their cottage and garden and the simple life they’d carved out among the locals. Aziraphale opened a book shop in town, where he only occasionally sold any books (and the ones he did sell, were all modern and stocked specifically for that purpose). Crowley focused his attentions on the garden, and if he occasionally helped their elderly neighbour with her disobedient willow tree, then that was a secret no one needed to know. 

Lately, however, they had both been feeling rather restless, unbeknownst to each other. Aziraphale tried reorganizing his store, changing the way he tied his bowtie and even ate pizza --something he considered to be far too messy for him personally. Crowley had branched out into birdwatching, and then car maintenance (the human way), and even reading. Nothing scratched the itch for either of them. 

Ao3 Link

My Ko-Fi

Ten years. A cottage. The South Downs. Innumerable soft mornings in bed and long, exciting nights. Wine under their own apple tree, carefully cultivated to provide optimal shade during summer afternoons. Ten years of the rest of their lives. For Aziraphale and Crowley the time after the End that Wasn’t was nothing short of blissful perfection.

They could do anything, go anywhere, all without the worry of Above or Bellow making a fuss. Even so, they mostly kept to their little patch of Eden, their cottage and garden and the simple life they’d carved out among the locals. Aziraphale opened a book shop in town, where he only occasionally sold any books (and the ones he did sell, were all modern and stocked specifically for that purpose). Crowley focused his attentions on the garden, and if he occasionally helped their elderly neighbour with her disobedient willow tree, then that was a secret no one needed to know.

Lately, however, they had both been feeling rather restless, unbeknownst to each other. Aziraphale tried reorganizing his store, changing the way he tied his bowtie and even ate pizza--something he considered to be far too messy for him personally. Crowley had branched out into birdwatching, and then car maintenance (the human way), and even reading. Nothing scratched the itch for either of them.

It wasn’t until they visited Tadfield, for Anathema’s baby shower, that it occurred to either of them. They’d been to the others, of course, both ethereal entities were prominently featured in the other two Device-Pulcifer children. Little Charlotte and Annabella looked forward to seeing their uncles for monthly gatherings. And the third child, yet to be named, was likely to feel the same about the two.

“It’s only 2 more months now,” Anathema said, lounging in a comfortable chair in her and Newt’s back garden. She was surrounded by friends and family, including the Them, Shadwell and Madame Tracy, and Crowley. Aziraphale was over by the pot-luck table, making him and the demon plates of food. Crowley nodded along to the conversation, not participating much himself.

“You must be ready for it to be over,” Madame Tracy said sympathetically, filling up the witch’s glass with more. Anathema nodded enthusiastically--after 2 kids you stop pretending to love every moment of pregnancy.

“Definitely. They’ve been kicking me in the spine for ages!”

“Have you tried telling them off?” Crowley asked casually, sipping his own drink (lemonade spiked with a little something from his flask. “Can never start too early with that kind of thing you know.”

Anathema looked surprised, though not significantly, which was in opposition to Newt's shocked expression. Madame Tracy rolled her eyes and tutted disapprovingly.

“Weren’t you a Nanny?” Pepper asked, eyeing Crowley suspiciously. “Good Nannies don’t go around shouting at babies.”

“No one said anything about shouting,” Crowley drawled, sitting up a little straighter. “It’s all about balance. Set some boundaries, let them know they can’t get away with anything too mischievous.”

“I thought mischief was your thing?” Adam asked. Crowley made a kind of a wiggle motion with his palm and wrinkled his nose.

“Trust me, kid. There’s mischief and then there’s a 4-year-old who doesn’t know the meaning of ‘no’.”

“Oh are we talking about our mutual ward?” Aziraphale chimed in cheerfully, setting down the plates he’d made up. Crowley murmured his thanks and reached for a strawberry. “We did our best but he turned out quite beastly in the end.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “You’re making it sound like he’s a murderer. He turned OK, better than his father at least.”

“You do have a point there.” The rest of the party-goers at the table all had variously dubious looks on their faces as if they were all thinking ‘who allowed these two to raise a child?’.

“Have you two raised many children together then?” Madame Tracy asked pleasantly. Crowley and Aziraphale both shook their heads a little sadly. “Oh whyever not? You both seem to love kids.”

“Well, it isn’t the done thing you know. An angel and a demon?” Aziraphale answered glumly. Next to him, Crowley shifted in his seat. “Warlock was the exception because both Heaven and Hell thought he was the antichrist.”

“But you don’t work for them anymore!” Adam pointed out, tucking his hands under his thighs and rocking excitedly. “You could do whatever you want!”

Something like dawning realization began to grow on both men’s faces. They could, in fact, do whatever they pleased without worrying about the repercussions from their former head offices. Though the idea of a child might be pushing it.

“You know I never really thought about it like that, thank you, dear boy,” Aziraphale, always better with words in the heat of the moment, said. Crowley sat wordlessly, gaping like a fish out of water. From the far side of the table, Anathema whispered something in Newt’s ear and they both chuckled.

“Yes, well,” Crowley blustered, suddenly standing. “More lemonade?” No one answered but he stalked off anyway. No one mentioned the fact that he was going to the exact opposite way of the refreshment table either.

Aziraphale watched him go with a bemused expression, though he didn’t seem worried. Instead, he turned back to Anathema and began asking her about baby names. The Them quickly got bored with the baby talk and wandered towards the empty bit at the back of the yard to play football. Madame Tracy and Shadwell were off in their own little world, looking at each other with disgustingly moony eyes. Crowley nearly gagged just from being in proximity to such mushy behaviour. As it was he was currently taking refuge back behind the hedgerow, growling at Newt’s freshly planted petunias.

After they were sufficiently chastized and looking marvellous, Crowley decided he had calmed down enough to actually brave the drinks table. There was an entire pitcher of lemonade left, still damp with condensation from the refrigerator, and it was practically calling to him. He made himself a cup and stealthily spiked it. He was just about to take a sip when he felt small hands tugging at the edge of his jacket.

“Uncle Crowley,” a tiny voice said, “can I have a sip?”

Crowley looked down, already knowing exactly what he would see. Little Lottie, with her dark brown eyes and mane of untameable brown hair stared back at him, then eyed his drink. Behind her, Bella peered up at him, always the shy one.

“Eh, not this one. I’ll make you both your own special ones, how does that sound?” With a quick miracle, he procured two plastic cups with curly straws, dangling them in front of the girls. Bella's eyes lit up but Lottie held strong.

“No ice cubes!” she declared, stamping her foot. Crowley hid his proud smile behind a small cough.

“No, no ice cubes. Just pure, sugar water for you and your sister,” he said, filling both glasses up and handing them over, but not before using a demonic miracle to replace the sugar with a healthier alternative. He crouched down to their level to whisper, “Have you two been behaving for your mum and dad?”

Bella nodded, too busy drinking and splashing lemonade all over herself. Lottie lifted her chin proudly.

“Sometimes! Jus’ like you and Uncle Aziraphale said!” She’s only recently gotten the hand of the angel’s fully name, and took every opportunity to show off. Annabella was still getting the hang of it.

“Uncle Azi says to always be nice to the other girls at school, even if they say mean things!” she exclaimed loudly, a sticky smile lighting up her face. At least her hair was short enough that it was mostly saved. Crowley didn’t want Anathema to truly despise him.

“And?”

“And you said to put gum in their hair when the teacher isn’t looking!”

“Good girl. Now go sit at the table with your lemonade. And don’t let your mom see you with it!” He added that last bit just to see the devious look on Lottie’s face as she and her sister scampered off. Somebody, he loved those kids, even if they were half Newton. He liked most children, actually, though those two little girls had definitely run off with his cold, dead heart.

“There you are, Crowley!” Crowley tried to hide his slight jump of surprise with a cough. Even though he knew that Azirapahel knew that neither of them had ever needed to cough in the entire history of the world. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“S’not like I went far angel,” Crowley replied, straightening his knees and then his spine with far too much crackling. “What’d you want?”

Aziraphale was immediately fussing with the demon’s collar and suit jacket, making sure it sat right. “Well, I thought as it’s getting rather late and we have a little bit of a drive ahead of us it might be time for us to toddle.”

“Toddle?” Crowley asked, wrinkling his nose with distaste.

“If you prefer I could say we should get a wiggle o--” Immediately Crowley was stalking past the angel and back to the rest of the party-goers, effectively cutting him off.

“No I do not prefer ‘wiggle on’! Somebodies' sake where do you keep getting these awful sayings from?” He knew the angel was following behind him with a silly grin on his face.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about dear. Are you getting into one of your moods again?” Damn him, the bastard knew exactly how to rile Crowley up.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about dear,” Crowley mocked, hunching his shoulders even more. “Let’s just get the goodbyes over with so we can go.”

It took far too long, for Crowley’s tastes, to actually leave. He let Azirapahel do most of the talking and hugging, though he spared a moment to cuddle Lottie and Bella when they started to beg. Their tiny little arms wrapped around his shoulders as he hoisted them up, slinging them side to side just to hear their delighted shrieks. The first few times he’d done this Newt and Anathema had not been pleased, but Aziraphale had reminded them they were both ethereal beings with the ability to change reality, and the parents had decided to allow it after that.

“Goodbye, little ones,” Aziraphale said, giving each of the girls a hug. Crowley knew first-hand how good Aziraphale’s hugs were and made a mental note to get a few of his own when they got home.

“Not little anymore Uncle Aziraphale!” Lottie shouted, taking advantage of her ‘outside voice’. Annabella giggled at the nickname, more than happy to be the angel’s little girl.

“No, no, I suppose not Charlotte. You’re nearly all grown up aren’t you?” he answered with an indulgent smile. The little girl wiggled with delight, and also with the need to be let go so she could go off and get into some sort of mischief. “Go on, have a good day you two.”

Final goodbyes were said and then they were in the Bently, trundling down the road. Crowley had agreed to drive at a more decent pace within the towns and cities sometime after Lottie had been born. The demon claimed he enjoyed driving slowly to annoy the other drivers, but Aziraphale had a suspicion that it had to do with having mortal attachments and realizing the dangers little children could get into near roadways. Outside on the country roads they took to get back to the South Downs he made up for it though, gunning down them with double the enthusiasm. Aziraphale considered this enough of a compromise.

“Lovely party,” the angel remarked loudly over the roar of the Bently’s engine. Crowley nodded but didn’t take his eyes off the road. He was hoping to beat her personal speed record from Tadfield to the cottage. “The girls are growing up so fast!”

Another noncommittal noise as Crowley overtook a car, getting dangerously close to the side door to hiss a little bit. The other driver blanched and decided to pull over at the next rest stop for a bracing cup of coffee.

“You’re quite good with them!” Aziraphale continued on, undeterred by Crowley’s distraction. “If fact, I’d say you have a soft spot for children, my dear. First warlock, then Adam, now the girls.”

That did get Crowley’s attention, though he made sure not to show it. Really he’d always loved children. There had been the kids he snuck onto the arc, just a few, those he could grab and hide from the floodwaters. And others throughout the years, war orphans and kids alone in the world for whatever horrible reason. He gave food to beggars and donates some of his exorbitant--and useless--wealth to orphanages and programs to help children (all spun in some nonsensical way to please Hell, of course). He’d adored being Warlock’s nanny (which is why, even though he is a demon, he couldn’t be the one to pull the trigger on either him or Adam). But caring about kids wasn't cool, wasn’t demon-like, so he’d kept it quiet. Trust Aziraphale to see right through that.

“So?” Keep it short, simple. Let Aziraphale do the talking, he obviously had a point to make, rambling on as he was doing.

“So… I was thinking…”

“Spit it out angel!” Crowley snapped, taking a very sharp left turn into oncoming traffic. Aziraphale knew it wasn’t meant in a nasty way though, he had over six millennia of experience speaking ‘irritable demon’.

“I’ve been thinking, it would be nice to have that,” Aziraphale stuttered out, staring straight ahead at the road.

“Have what?”

“Oh, you know what I mean! Why are you being so difficult, Crowley?”

“I’m not! I don’t understand half the babble that comes out of your mouth angel and you expect me to when I’m dri--”

“Doyouwanttohavechildren?” Aziraphale asked all in one breath, refusing to look over at Crowley. Crowley jerked violently, nearly driving them into the ditch. A quick miracle prevented their untimely discorporations and the Bently rolled to a stop on the side of the road.

“What?” he asked incredulously jaw hanging open.

“Children!” Aziraphale squeaked, his hands flying up and fidgeting with his collar and bowtie. “I-I’ve become very fond of our Goddaughters and I was thinking--”

“And how exactly--” Crowley’s tone was venomous, though he didn’t know exactly why, “do you suggest we procure these children? Forge up some adoption papers for some human baby?”

“Oh Heavens no!” Aziraphale tittered. “Humans, well they have such a short life span. Though I wouldn’t be opposed, if that’s what you wanted to do. I was thinking more along the lines of the old fashioned way?”

“Know many women looking to have little angel babies or hellspawn then Aziraphale?” Crowley mocked. Honestly, he was being a bit of a prick and he knew it. This wasn’t the type of thing you just brought up on a casual Sunday drive home from a casual social arrangement! It was the type of thing you thing to be spoken about after a few good rounds of fucking, in that warm safe afterglow surrounded by your lover. It was supposed to be a big thing right? Humans made it a big thing. And what about the fact that apparently Aziraphale wanted to… with some human woman? Or that Crowley would have to… eugh.

“Of course not! There was quite enough of that with the Nephilim. No, I was hoping, one of us could do it.”

Crowley was nearly bowled over with shock. As it was his white-knuckle grip was nearly bending the steering wheel. For some reason his mind was supplying images of little blond-haired, pudgy baby angels scampering around their cottage, chased by redheaded little devils. The tiny pitter-patter of their feet, then laughter like bells. The look on one of the children from the Arc’s face when he’d had to explain what happened to their parents. A tiny grave outside a workhouse, mourned by only him and no one else.

“Absolutely not.” The world wasn’t a place for children, Crowley knew that for certain. Nevermind the idea of having one of his own to take care of to be responsible for. It’d been different with the others, temporary and always ‘part of the job’. Having one would be different. Scary.

“Oh.” Aziraphale’s voice was tiny and feather-light in the quiet of the idling Bently. It was the same tone of voice he made when all the crepes were gone, but significantly sadder. It made Crowley feel terrible, like he really was worthy of his Fall.

“What brought this on, angel?” he asked, trying to find a way out that didn’t break Aziraphale’s heart more. “You’ve never even mentioned kids before this. Didn’t think you really liked them, Warlock and the girls aside.”

“No, no, I do like them. Not near the books, mind, but they’re nice enough. They have such good imaginations.” Aziraphale spoke like someone trying very, very hard to give off the impression they were fine. He’d moved on to crumpling and straightening his bowtie repeatedly.

“Nice enough you decided to blindside me with this on the drive home?” Should he turn the car off for this? Another glance at his angel, so clearly distressed, then back at his own shaking hand on the keys convinced him. The silence was even more oppressive without the Bently’s purr.

Aziraphale worried his hands harder and Crowley made a mental note to take the angel out to get his weekly manicure a little earlier. “I didn’t think you’d react like this.”

“And how, exactly, did you think I’d act? This world is fucked up Aziraphale, not to mention what Heaven and Hell would do if we made a bunch of half and half sprogs?” How was Aziraphale not seeing how impossible what he was asking was?  

Finally Aziraphale looked over at him. His grey-blue eyes were soft and sad. It made Crowley want to look away, and he briefly did behind his glasses.

“I--I hadn’t thought about what our previous sides might think, to be perfectly honest,” he admitted, sounding a little embarrassed. “I got caught up in--well, it seems I haven’t thought this through. Forget I said anything, my dear.”

There was the out Crowley had been looking for, a good reason to start the Bently back up and continue on their way. Maybe he could spend the rest of the afternoon in his garden, ripping weeds out of the ground with great fervour. Not that his garden had weeds, but the roses had been slacking so they’d make do.

But he could just leave things as they were now, with Aziraphale looking so crushed. “What were you thinking then? Why now?”

A light blush spread over the angel’s cheeks as he glanced away again. “Oh well, I was only talking to Anathema about the girls, and the new little one coming soon and it sounds so… nice. She and Newt have been very happy and I’ve loved watching the girls get older and learn new things. Then I thought of us doing the same with our own little family and, well I guess I got a bit carried away.”

Carried away was right. The happiness that the Device-Pulcifer family had was not for them, couldn’t be for them. It wouldn't be safe or fair to bring children made of both of them into this world. Not when Heaven and Hell would just want them destroyed.

“We can’t, angel,” Crowley said quietly, letting his hands fall into his lap. “Even if we wanted to you know our ex-sides wouldn’t stand for it. They’ve been leaving us alone but you damn-well know they’d come back if there were kids.”

“So, you do want them? W-with me I mean?” Trust Aziraphale to ignore all the practical bit and cling to that. Crowley shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Angel…” he said warningly, a bit of a growl to his voice. Aziraphale kept going.

“Crowley please, I don’t understand why you’re so against this! You love Charlotte and Annabella, I’ve seen it!”

“Of course I love them!” Crowley said, exasperated. “But we can’t have that. Even if we want to, we can’t. It isn’t safe.”

Another ringing silence where Crowley expected Aziraphale to sigh, then ask him to continue driving. Once home the angel would head back to his reading room with a cup of cocoa and not speak to Crowly for a few hours. Later they’d makeup and it’d be over and done with. But it wouldn’t, not really. No something this important was going to be shoved under the rug, they’d learned their lesson from 6000 of pining.

“I think you are being a coward, Crowley,” Aziraphale said quietly but firmly. “I have never known you to fear Heaven of Hell, not even once. This isn’t about them this is about us.”

Crowley seethed, his lips pulled back in a snarl. “You always see the bright side, you’re never realistic! What happens if we do that then, what happens when Heaven and Hell come and there’s nothing we can do to stop them from taking them away and--”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale cried all pretenses at a hard exterior dropped. “My dearest, you have been thinking about this.”

“We both know Heaven is bad, cold and fucking beurocratic. A bad place for kids. And Hell, they’d be better off dead than in Hell angel make no mistake about that. I can’t--” Crowley took a shuddering breath, staring at Aziraphale, hoping to make him see, “I can’t bring them into the world only for them to be poked and prodded and tortured. I can’t be that cruel. I won’t.”

“But we made sure they won’t be coming after us for a long time, maybe never even. Surely the fact that we’ve been together a decade and not hear so much as a peep means we’re off the hook,” Aziraphale argued. It made Crowley’s blood boil, how naive Aziraphale could be sometimes. How he still, after all this time, believed Heaven and Hell would keep their word.

“There’s no proof of that. And I might like to live life in the fast lane but not if it means getting kids hurt.” Aziraphale went to open his mouth but Crowley continued. “You know 10 years is a blink of the eye for us, and even more so for Above and Below. Talk to me in a millennia angel.”

“But you do want them. You just don’t think it’s safe right now?” Aziraphale looked hopeful again and Crowley didn’t have it in him to crush him a third time.

“Yeah, yeah I guess. But we can’t.” He tried to put emphasis on that last big but Aziraphale was already learning over, placing his hand on Crowley’s shoulder and squeezing.

“Thank you, Crowley. I’m very sorry for calling you a coward, among the other things I said.”

This all felt a little easy to Crowley, but by that point, he was desperate for anything to end it. It gave him an out without having to resolutely say no, something he found almost impossible when it came to Aziraphale. Let him hope that they’d have another 1000 years undisturbed.

“Whatever, angel. Can we finish our drive in peace?” Aziraphale nodded, smiling slightly though his posture was still a little uncomfortable. Crowley shifted the Bently back into gear and felt the warm eat of Aziraphale’s hand rest over his. Even though he was still a little ticked off Crowley allowed it, relieved to know Aziraphale wasn’t actually angry with him for saying no.

“Of course, I won’t say another word about it today.” Crowley noted the add-on of “today” but still kept silent. Something told him he hadn’t quite won this battle yet.

[forever-more-never-again]

False Rumors (A Chris Evans Request)

Requested: Anonymous

Word Count: 1485

Warnings: None? Super Mushy! And funny!

Pairings: Chris Evan X Reader

Request: Could you do a imagine or series of Chris Evans and Y/N . She is the same age as Tom Holland. She joined Marvel in 2012. Tom and reader are very close (rumors of them dating just like Tomdaya). It's the last for Chris filming Captain America, he asks her if they are dating. She denies the rumors. Because Chris had feelings for her since his split with Jenny in March. She went to him in Lobby Hero and loved his moustache. Also, a headline that they are a couple no one expected.

Masterlist

“Please give a round of applause for [Y/n]!” Ellen shouted to the studio audience.

You walked out with a grin and waving your hand. Laughing slightly, you took a seat on the comfy chair across from the comedic talk show host. “No one is going to jump out and scare me again, are they?” You ask jokingly referring to two years ago when Scarlett Johansson had jumped out from the box and scared you.

Ellen laughed, “Not this time. I promise a scare free interview.”

You made a show of looking under the table in front of you and peeking behind you, causing the audience to erupt in laughter.

Ellen waved her hands, a smile on her face, “So…[Y/n]...You just finished filming your latest Marvel film. Can you tell us anything?”

You smiled, relaxing in the chair, getting into the familiar exchange of an interview, “I’ll have you now that I am not a spoiler like some of my coworkers. So sadly..I can not.”

The audience groaned in good nature as Ellen laughed.

“Coworkers like...Tom Holland?” She asked with a raised eyebrow. The giant screen behind you came alive with a picture of Tom and you hanging out on Hollywood Boulevard

a few weeks ago.

You smiled softly at the picture, “Tom is a great friend, but a horrible secret keeper.” You replied with a giggle.

Ellen smirked, “And you two are working closely on his new Spiderman movie, am I right?”

You shook your head with a smile at Ellen’s insight prodding, “My character in the Marvel universe does make an appearance in his character’s stand alone film. Since joining this amazing crew when the first Avenger film aired, I have been blessed to work with many different people on many different films. Although, my favorite has to be Captain America.”

Ellen waved her hand, and another picture popped up on the screen. This time of Chris Evans leaving the theatre of his acting show, Lobby Hero.

You smiled looking at him, even though it was just a picture, it made your heart happy.

“Your character and Chris’s have a tangled relationship in the Marvel Universe, isn’t that right?”

You nod, “Getting to work with Chris was a real treat. He really is Captain America in real life! So sweet and ready to fight for anything he deems morally wrong.” You laugh.

The audience awws and Ellen raises her eyebrows at your praise.

“You seem to hold him in high esteem.” It wasn’t a question, but you knew she would want a response.

Your smile slipped slightly, as you struggled to find the words that would be the least conscrued out of context. “Chris is just a really good guy. And He’s supportive of everyone on the cast and crew. I know that the cast was sad when he filmed his last scene and went to go join the cast of Lobby Hero.” You turned to the audience with a wide smile, “We made sure to let that cast know what a gem they had with adding Chris to their team.”

Ellen leaned back into her chair, her face growing serious, “We have a lot of questions from our Twitter tag when we released that you would be coming on our show today. Let’s read a couple out!”

You and Ellen both turned to the screen, angling your body so that the camera could still see your face.

Ellen read aloud from the twitter screenshot, “From @[Y/n]ismybae, they asked, ‘Does it ever get confusing switching from your character back to reality?’”

You sighed, “Sometimes I forget that I don’t have powers or martial art skills in real life. It’s a real let down!” You say with a laugh.

“@Sugarbabybear asked, ‘Seeing you post pics with the cast is so sweet! Who is your favorite to work with?’”

You thought for a moment, “If I had to pick one person...I would say Tom Holland. He makes filming super fun and he’s constantly joking around and making everyone laugh with his antics.”

The audience awwed again as Ellen clasped her hands to her chest. “That’s so sweet!” She exclaimed.

Pulling up another screenshot, she pointed at you, “Now this person asked the question we have all been asking ourselves the past year, @IShipItLikeFedEx asked, ‘Is it true that you and Tom Holland are secretly dating? Cause you two are seriously super cute together! I ship it!”

You smiled.

Ellen stared at you expectantly.

The audience held its collective breath.

“No. We are not dating. I’m actually interested in someone else..”

The dam broke.

The audience screamed.

Ellen gasped. “Who! You have to tell us now! Don’t leave us in suspense!”

You smirked, raising your brow in a gesture similar to the one Ellen had given you, “What?? I thought I already said I know how to keep a secret.”

Ellen groaned with a laugh, “Aww come on [Y/n]. Guys, don’t you think they should tell us?” She turned to the audience.

Another wave of people screaming and cheering for you.

You giggled, “Okay okay. Fine. It’s not like we planned on keeping it a secret for much longer. I got approval to announce it from him already.”

Ellen gasped again, “What announcement!? It’s not just a crush?”

You covered your laughter with your hand, Eyes squinting as you laughed, seeing the shock in Ellen’s eyes. You hadn’t discussed this before the show began airing, so it was a surprise to her as well as the audience.

“We have been dating for a few months now. And he knows all about the rumors of me and Tom. Tom and him laugh over it whenever we have the cast over for dinner. He actually approached me asking if the rumors were real before asking me out. And then...He invited me to the opening night of Lobby hero to watch him perform.” You said with a straight face.

The audience and Ellen lost their marbles again.

Ellen frantically waved her hand and the picture of Chris Evan exiting Lobby Hero, his mustache on full display, appeared on the screen again.

“You mean to tell us! That you and Chris Evan are dating!?” She screamed. Her grin so big you thought her face would crack. Then she calmed down and frowned at you, “Wait, what about the age difference? Doesn’t it get a bit awkward?”

You laughed, doubling over in your chair, “That’s part of the reason we wanted to keep it out of tabloids and reporters for as long as we could... so that we could get to know each other on another level without any outside criticism and statements and rumors. We don’t see age as a factor. We love each other.”

You gazed softly off into the distance, “He was such a dork when he first approached me to ask me out. Stumbling over his words, blush turning his ears pink. He thought the rumor of me and Tom dating was real but he wanted to be sure before he did something that might be taken out of context.”

Ellen and the Audience leaned forward toward you as you talked about your first date with Chris. How he had hesitantly asked you for a kiss at the end of the date. How he had asked your opinion on his mustache that he had to grow for Lobby hero.

“And? What did you say?” Ellen asked.

You giggled, “I actually think it’s cute on him. Though I didn’t mind him growing a beard along with it.”

“They said all the time that I should grow it out. So I did.”

Another voice piped up from behind you.

Jumping with a yelp, you turned and saw the subject of your conversation.

Turning to Ellen you pointed at her with a grin, “What is this?”

Ellen laughed, “I had an interview scheduled with Chris after yours.”

You jumped out of the chair and ran over to Chris, leaping into his arms.

He spun you around with a laugh before you both walked back to the couch.

Sitting next to him, you held his hand and looked up into his baby blue eyes.

He still had a mustache but it melted right into a beard making him look extra yummy.

“So you and [Y/n].” Ellen said.

Chris laughed, “Oh man.” He groaned in fake annoyance. Broken when he laughed, “Yes. I love this little fireball.” He gestured to you.

You winked at him, causing him to laugh, doing his signature left boob grab.

Leaning over when he caught his breath, you placed a light kiss on his lips.

“Awww! Young love!” Ellen sighed, “You two are the couple that no one expected, I’ll admit, but it’s just two cute now seeing it in person.”

You and Chris shared a smile. Too in love to care what the world thought.

FOREVER Taglist:

@sxph-t @mialeelavellan @rainydaysrnevergrey  @platonic-plots @sociallyawkwardcircus-freak-hi @ayyidkeither @mcuimxgine @mythixmagic @chas-z @thefridgeismybestie @strangersstranger

Avengers Taglist:

@jadepc

[wistfulcynic]

Their Way By Moonlight: The Plan (Chapter 9)

In which there is a sweet and smutty dream and Killian and Regina take action.

a/n: Sorry to drop this late on a Friday but my dad is visiting starting tomorrow and we’re going on a little mini-holiday to Cornwall, so it’s today or in like a week and a half. Plot! is finally starting to happen now, I reckon we must be halfway-ish through this story.

As always thanks to everyone who is reading, commenting, kudosing, reblogging, I appreciate the heck out of you.  

Summary: A new curse has fallen on Storybrooke and this time the Saviour is trapped inside it, deliberately separated from her son and anyone else who might help her break it. But what no one knows –including her own cursed self– is that she and Hook are soulmates, working together within their shared dreams to find a way to break the curse and free everyone from the clutches of evil yet again. (Alternate 3B, set in the What Dreams May Come universe)

Rating: A hard M

Tagging: @teamhook @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke @thejollyroger-writer @jennjenn615 @tiganasummertree @bonbonpirate @lfh1962@laschatzi @katie-dub @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @winterbaby89

Anyone wishing to be added to or dropped from this tag list, please do say so.

Read it on AO3

The Plan: 

Killian calls Emma to the dream that night and when she appears he all but grabs her, pulling her to him and holding her tightly. “Are you all right, love?” he asks worriedly, stroking her hair. “Cursed you, I mean. Is she all right?”

Emma nods against his neck, but she burrows into him for comfort all the same.  “She —I— will be fine,” she says. “It’s scary at first, learning you have magic. I wish I didn’t have to do it twice.” 

“Aye, me too.” He breathes in the scent of her hair, always so soothing to him, though he is still agitated, even in the dream. “Gods, Emma, it was so hard to watch that this afternoon. I wanted so badly to hold you, it almost killed me to let you leave the shop.” 

“I wanted you to hold me too,” she replies. “Even cursed me can’t resist you.” 

He laughs, though his arms tighten around her. “Do you think you, uh, she is starting to remember?”

“She’s so close. I’ve managed to plant a strong enough suggestion in my head that every time she has a thought influenced by the curse I challenge it. It’s terribly confusing for her but I think she’s starting to break through.” 

“It’s so odd to be talking about your cursed self like she’s a different person.” 

“Yeah. Though she kind of is.” 

“Do you really feel that way?”

“Yeah, a little? I mean she’s clearly still me but it’s like the curse has magnified all my old insecurities and made her, I don’t know, timid. Which is something I have never been.” 

“No, indeed.” Killian shakes his head at the image. He has noticed that cursed Emma seems less confident than the real one but the idea of his fierce and fearsome wife being timid is so foreign he struggles to grasp it. “What do you mean by it magnifying your old insecurities?” 

“Oh, you know,” she tries to make her voice light and careless but he hears the hurt that still exists beneath it, “How I used to think I was unlovable.”

“Aye.” She’s spoken of this before, of how her experiences in foster homes and then with Bae— Neal’s abandonment she feared she would never know love. It twists his heart to think of her falling back into that place again, after how hard they’ve both worked to build the trust and love at the core of their marriage. “My darling, I wish—”

Emma pulls back from their embrace, just enough to look up at him. “Don’t go all mushy on me, pirate,” she says. “It just the curse. I know you love me, and Henry does, and my parents. Cursed me knows that too, she just can’t remember it.”

He nods, and leans his forehead against hers, stroking his thumb across her cheekbone, making her sigh as she runs her hands up his back, curling them around his shoulders and pulling him close for a kiss. He leans into it, into her, as close as he can get, wrapping his arm around her waist as tightly as he can. He wishes he never had to let her go. 

He will hold her like this again —really hold her, not just in their dreams— and soon. He vows it to both of them. 

“Let’s go someplace,” she murmurs against his lips. 

“Hmmm?” Killian is lost in her, and it takes him a moment to grasp what she is saying. 

“I love it here but I— I can’t explain it but I just feel restless and I want to go someplace else.”

“Where?” The dream allows them to go anywhere they can hold in their minds, though real places work best. 

“I don’t know,” she laughs. “Just someplace. Someplace peaceful.” 

He hasn’t known many peaceful places in his life, but there is one, one long gone corner of a crumbling realm that had once been a haven for him. He concentrates on it, reforming the dream around them, rebuilding it with stray pieces of his ancient memories.

They are standing in a wide valley with softly undulating grassy hills on every side and a lake in the centre that shimmers in a shade of blue Killian has seen only here, despite the breadth of his travels. Dawn is just breaking over the hilltops in streaks of pastel peach and lilac and a delicate mist is rising from the surface of the lake, over the ripples formed by leaping fish and the birds that seek them. Emma looks around, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape. “This is beautiful,” she whispers. “Where is it?”

He smirks. “Neverland.” 

“What? But— how? Why the hell did we go to that awful jungle when this place existed?”

“Because by the time you arrived this and many other places were long gone, and that awful jungle was all that was left.”

She frowns. “I know you said Neverland changed a lot while you were there, but… well I guess I didn’t realise how much.” 

“Aye, almost beyond recognition. When I first landed there Neverland was vast, a sprawling archipelago with a great diversity of islands and inhabitants. Fairies, pixies, people who called themselves Red Indians, Oisín and his Fae, gnomes and imps, centaurs and unicorns. The seas were sailed by other ships than my own, and teemed with merpeople, kelpies, and kraken while the skies were filled with manticore, griffins, hippogriffs—” 

“Hippogriffs are real?”

“Oh, aye. Unpleasant creatures on the whole, although if you can win their trust they are unfailingly loyal.” 

“Huh.”

“Pan’s island lay at the very centre of all of this, and as the magic drained from the land the outlying islands began to disappear until only that one remained, eventually fading to that darkened and grim version that you experienced.”

“No wonder he wanted to restart magic there.” 

“Indeed.” 

“So which island are we on?” 

“This is Brasil—”

“Brazil?”

He looks at her, surprised. “You’ve heard of it?”

She gives a small shrug. “Um, actually probably not. I’m guessing we’re not talking about the country in South America.” 

“No, indeed.” Killian calls up a mental image of the maps of her realm he has studied intensively, and smiles to himself. “Brasil was part of Oisín’s realm, an island shrouded in mist, visible for only one day every seven years. I used to make a point of paying a visit on that day, both to help mark the passage of time in a timeless land and also because as you remark it is beautiful. Peaceful as no other place I’ve known.”

“What creatures lived there?”

“Not a one, aside from the birds and fish you see here. Brasil was all but inaccessible, many ships tried to approach it but none succeeded.”

“So how did you get there?”

“Well, the Jolly Roger, as you know love, is no ordinary ship. She can navigate shoals where other ships would run aground, and she found us a place to land.” His voice is wistful and she squeezes him in sympathy; she will never be over how much he has sacrificed for her.  

“That must have been wonderful,” she says softly. 

“Yes it was. When Neverland’s magic began to fade, Brasil was one of the last islands to remain, protected as it was by its mist, and once it was lost for good, that was when I knew I had to leave as well.”

“So it doesn’t exist anymore?”

“No, at least not in the place where I knew it to be. But magic, as you know, is tricky, and who’s to say that it has gone forever and not simply moved to a more congenial location? Stranger things have happened.” 

“I hope so, I’d hate to think of this being gone forever.” 

He leads her to the side of the lake, drawing her down to lie with him on the soft beach there. The dream ensures that no sand clings to their skin as they caress, leisurely tracing the well-known contours of each other’s bodies, each finding all the spots that make the other moan, desire simmering hot between them but not boiling over. Emma lets her fingertips trail up and down Killian’s back, her other hand buried in his hair as she presses kisses along his jaw. “I love your jaw,” she murmurs between them. 

“Do you?” His own hand skims down her thigh.

“Yeah, it’s like ridiculously cut.” She hums as he tickles behind her knee. 

“Is that good?” 

“It’s really hot,” she gasps. 

“And is that good?” He breathes the words against her skin as he scrapes his teeth down her throat.

“C’mon, Killian, you’ve been —ah, mmmmm— in this realm long enough to know that hot is good.”

“Aye, love,” he growls as she licks the tender spot behind his right ear, “But I like to hear you say it.” 

“It’s good.” She purrs the words into his ear. “Hot is good and your jawline is hot.” 

“Well, darling,” he says, pulling back to look at her as his hand strokes over her hip and the dip of her waist to her breast, tracing the perimeter of her nipple, feather-light. “May I say then that I find your chin exceptionally hot.”

“My chin? Really?”

“Oh, yes. It has this little dimple that used to torment me.” 

“Torment you?”

“With the desire to kiss it.” He does so, making her giggle. 

“That’s a weird thing to be attracted to.” 

“Weirder than my jaw?”

“All right, you’ve got me there.” 

His fingers continue to toy with her breast. “Would it make you feel better to know that the chin dimple was merely one of many features of yours that tormented me?”

“I don’t really like to think about you being tormented at all, to be honest,” she says with a small frown. “Especially not because of me.” 

Warmth spreads through his chest and he kisses her, slightly harder than he intends. “It was nothing you did, love, just that I wanted so badly to touch you but I doubted I’d ever be granted the privilege.”

“I know,” she whispers, stroking his face, “I understand that, and honestly yeah there was a time when if you tried anything I’d’ve kicked you so hard your nuts would’ve come out your ears—”

“Eloquent as ever, my love.” 

“—but now I just hate to think about you feeling that way, especially when we’re back in a situation where you want to touch me but can’t.” 

His hand leaves her breast to tangle in her hair as he kisses her again, wishing there were more he could do to ease her concerns. “I won’t pretend that things aren’t difficult at the moment, Swan, but it’s not difficult in the way that it was before. Now I know that the situation is merely temporary.” 

“And you didn’t know that back then?” she says with a small smile. “Not even after I kissed you?”

“Indeed not. ‘A one-time thing,’ I believe you called it?”

“You had to have known I didn’t mean that. Even I knew it, though I’d’ve died before admitting it.” 

“I hoped you didn’t, of course,” he replies, his hand on her breast again, just a brief caress before it slides lower. “But even then I knew what a stubborn lass you can be, and that whatever you might feel for me you wouldn’t accept it easily.” 

“You always could read me,” she gasps as his fingers find her slick heat, his thumb pressing against her clit as the head of his cock teases her entrance.  

“Open book, love.” 

She lifts her hips and he slides into her and they both sigh at the sensation. They rock in unison, bodies pressed tightly together and kissing softly, their pace unhurried, letting their pleasure build in layers like falling snow until they come with soft cries and panting breaths.

This time the dream allows them to cuddle; though they can sense that their time is nearly over there is none of the usual pressing urgency. Killian kisses Emma’s cheeks and her forehead and her chin and she cards her fingers through his hair.   

The dream begins to tug at them and he leans their foreheads together, abruptly recalling that he still has more to communicate. “I forgot to tell you before that the note you delivered did the trick,” he says. “I met with Regina last night and she’s coming back tonight. She told me that the curse caster is Zelena.”

“Zelena the mayor?”

“Do you know any other Zelenas? I thought it might be wise of you to warn your cursed self not to trust her. We don’t know exactly what she’s after with this curse, but I suspect that keeping you under control is a major part of it. Don’t do anything that looks suspicious, but at the same time be suspicious of everything she says and does.” 

“Okay, I think I can manage that.” 

He kisses her one last time, soft and sweet and yearning then the dream was gone, and his phone was beeping on his bedside table, reminding him that Regina would soon be making her no doubt needlessly dramatic appearance and he needed to be prepared. 

---

Regina rose from her bed the moment she felt Zelena’s watchful eye leave her. It was a few minutes earlier than usual, and she smiled to herself at the prospect of appearing earlier than Hook expected, perhaps catching him off guard, unbalancing him. She was just raising her hand to call her magic when she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the small mirror on the wall and froze in horror. 

She knew of course that her appearance had changed over the past year, that worry and sleeplessness had ravaged her face, abetted by her own lack of interest in anything beyond basic hygiene. Her hair was lank, her skin sallow and dry with webs of fine lines spreading from her eyes and deeper ones slashing across her forehead. Consumed by anxiety for Henry she hadn’t cared or even noticed, but now…

She couldn’t allow Hook to see her like this. Not again. Not when the flash of pity in his eyes the night before was still fresh in her memory. Not when he actually looked better than he ever had, at least in her estimation. Out from under the layers of leather and eyeliner he seemed almost normal, like he actually belonged in this realm. And just how the hell he had managed that was something she would dearly love to know. She’d always suspected he was cleverer than he let on, and it annoyed her that he always seemed to land on his feet no matter what was thrown at him, or where he himself was thrown. 

She would not be pitied by the pirate, she thought grimly. She would not cede him the upper hand. Not without playing every card she had. With a flick of her wrist she brought a swirling cloud of purple smoke up from the ground to engulf her. It quickly dissipated to reveal her looking very much her old self, her hair styled to perfection and her makeup flawless on her smooth skin, standing in the middle of Hook’s apartment… where he was waiting for her, lounging on a kitchen stool in that careless way of his that had always set her teeth on edge, examining his fingernails.  

He looked up and smirked at her, that damned eyebrow quirking, and her fingers itched to summon a fireball. So much for catching him off guard. 

“I do hope you’ve come prepared to live up to your moniker, my Evil Queen,” he drawled. “Because I have a plan.” 

Regina forced her magic back down. You can’t incinerate him, he’s your ally, she reminded herself firmly. As distasteful as the idea was she needed him, for the moment at least, to help her keep Henry safe and break this damned curse. Once that was done she could turn him back over to Emma and wash her hands of the pair of them. “Oh, really?” she snarked, relieving her irritation with sarcasm. “And what exactly does this plan entail?”

He indicated for her to sit on the stool next to his, with a sweeping, flourishing gesture… of his left arm. Regina blinked and her jaw dropped, for once startled out of her composure. The long sleeve of his grey henley was pushed back, revealing his bare forearm, unadorned by his hook or even the brace that held it. His arm simply ended at the wrist in a gnarled mass of scar tissue, still rough and red even after centuries. But why would he… Confused, she dragged her gaze from his wrist to his face. What she saw in his expression floored her, flooded her with a mess of emotions as unfamiliar as they were uncomfortable: comprehension, guilt, empathy. 

He hadn’t simply forgotten to cover his wrist, of that she had no doubt. Everything he had done in all the years she’d known him had been deliberate and calculated achieve some end. He wanted her to see him like this, and she had a dreadful suspicion that she understood why.  

He was levelling the playing field, giving up his advantage from the night before by letting her see him at his most vulnerable, as he had seen her at hers. He was letting her know that he wouldn’t use her suffering against her. He was asking her to trust him, and showing her she could. 

It wasn’t just the lack of hook, either. Without the eyeliner and pirate leather he appeared softer, younger —an odd adjective to apply to him— and though his henley was completely unbuttoned because some things at least never changed, he looked a far cry from the dangerous man she knew him to be. His pirate identity, his armour, was gone. 

He looked like he belonged in this world, she thought again, this time without rancour but instead with something approaching sympathy. Without the curse download she’d given to the Storybrooke residents, he’d have had to adapt on his own, a steep learning curve even for a man who didn’t also have to adjust to life with one hand and without the hook he’d used in its place for centuries. How had he done it? 

“I had Emma to help me,” he said quietly. “And Henry.” 

“What?” 

“You were wondering how I learned to function in this realm.”

“How the hell did you guess that?” she snapped, lashing out automatically against his irritating perception and this very unwelcome sense of kinship she suddenly felt. 

His eyebrow quirked again, but there was no provocation behind it. “I’m rather good at reading people,” he replied evenly. “And you and I, my Queen, whether we like it or not, are different sides of the same doubloon. We understand each other, always have. Things will go more smoothly if you can accept that and stop imagining incinerating me with one of your fireballs.” 

Her breath hissed through her teeth at this further obnoxiously accurate observation, though it occurred to her, a stray thought flitting across her mind, that he really didn’t appear to be trying to provoke her. His expression wasn’t mocking or sneering just tired, with lines of strain around his mouth and dark smudges beneath his eyes. This last year likely hadn’t been easy for him either, she realised in another uncomfortable flash of affinity. Emma gone, left to fend for himself and for Henry in a land that would still have been strange to him. She had suffered it because she’d had no choice. But why had he?

“Do you remember on the boat in Neverland—”  

“On my ship, yes.” 

“On your ship,” she conceded, thinking with an inner smirk that perhaps the pirate wasn’t wholly gone, “Do you remember what we discussed? About villains not getting happy endings?”

“Aye.” 

“You said if we didn’t get what we had fought so hard for we would have wasted our lives. Do you still think that’s true?”

He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. “I’m not sure,” he replied, and there was a stark, naked sort of honesty in his voice. “These past few years have led me to question many things I thought were absolute, and I no longer believe that anything can be as black and white as heroes and villains. Those labels are simply too reductive to paste on anything as complex as a human being. Any human being.” He met her eyes with a steady gaze, leaving her in no doubt that he was speaking of both of them. “And as for happy endings,” he continued, “whatever the bloody hell that might actually mean, frankly I’m not certain I want one. All I want is my wife back, for my son to have his mothers and grandparents in his life, and for all of us to have some bloody peace. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make that happen, not as a villain or a hero but just as a man who wants his family whole and safe again.” 

Regina stared at him, and as she did she realised that she saw him, fully and truly for the first time. This wasn’t Captain Hook she was dealing with, not anymore. This was Killian Jones, the real man underneath the pirate’s many layers of distraction and subterfuge. This must be what Emma saw in him, what she had fallen in love with and apparently married. Regina had always just assumed she had a leather fetish. 

He really had changed, it seemed, and so had she. Neither of them were truly villains anymore, though they were certainly not heroes, and perhaps he was right that such a stark and unforgiving dichotomy wasn’t a useful way to frame the world. Perhaps they were both just people who had made bad choices in the past and were now trying to make better ones, similar people on similar paths to redemption who were now fighting for the same goal. What he claimed he wanted she did too: Henry’s happiness and a bit of peace. To accomplish that they needed to trust each other. 

She took a deep breath and let her glamour spell melt away, removing her armour as he had his. She couldn’t help smirking slightly when it was gone, still needing to disguise how exposed she felt without it, still half-waiting for a cutting remark from him, for him to laugh and reveal it had all been a ruse to get her to show her weakness.  

Instead his eyes warmed and he smiled, and she felt her smirk soften until she was smiling in return, sealing their deal in a shared openness that stood in stark contrast to the toxic distrust and acrimony that had defined their associations in the past. 

“So,” she said, “Hook. What—”

“Perhaps you’d call me Killian,” he interrupted. “Hook is a name only my enemies use these days.” 

Trust, she reminded herself. “All right. Killian.Tell me about this plan of yours.” 

He gestured again at the stool beside him. “Have a seat Your Ma— Regina,” he amended when she gave him a Look. “And tell me what you make of this.” 

As she moved to sit next to him he withdrew a clear plastic bag from his pocket and handed it to her. She took it and glanced at the contents, drawing in her breath sharply when she realised what they were. “Where did you get this?” she hissed. 

“Emma brought it to me. Apparently her cursed husband has been using it on her, to manipulate her memory, or control her somehow.”

Regina held the bag up, frowning as the powder inside it sparkled  menacingly, catching the light as broken glass does, or a freshly honed blade. “Yes, that would make sense,” she said. “I’ve read about powders like this but I’ve never seen any. They are usually some sort of enchanted dust or sand. I believe that this must be soil from the sleeping poppy fields in Oz.”

Killian rubbed his forehead, an odd expression on his face. “So you’re saying it’s sparkly dirt,” he said. 

“Well, yes, basically.” 

“Wonderful. What is it doing to Emma?”

  “Different powders have different powers, but as this is the soil that produces the poppies that represent forgetfulness and mind control, I would expect it to have a concentrated version of those same traits. It would allow the person who wields it to control the memories of whomever they administer it to. You say Emma’s… husband has been using this?”

A muscle danced in Killian’s jaw. “Her husband under the curse, aye,” he replied gruffly, looking away but not before she caught the flash of pain and anger in his eyes.

She could relate very strongly to both of those things. Damn it. 

“But…” Her thoughts kept circling back to the one thing she couldn’t understand. “If Emma is not only cursed but also under the influence of this powder, then how did she know to bring some of it to you? Or to take it from her hus— her cursed husband in the first place? How do you know about any of this?”

Killian appeared to be choosing his words very carefully. “The answer to those questions is complicated and involves details that are personal and private between myself and my wife,” he said. “Ones that I am not comfortable discussing without her full consent. What I can tell you is that there is a part of her consciousness that remains uncursed and that part is able both to influence her cursed self and to communicate with me.” 

“That’s not much to go on, Ho— Killian.” 

“Yet it’s all you’re going to get, Regina. At least for now. Once Emma is free of any mind control she can decide how much she’s comfortable sharing with you.” 

His tone was unequivocal, and she knew she’d get no more out of him on the subject. “Well, all right, then let’s discuss practicalities. If you’re able to communicate with this uncursed part of Emma’s consciousness, and it can influence her cursed self, does that mean you can influence her thoughts or actions?”

“Within reason, aye, though it’s not a simple matter. Even cursed and mind-controlled Emma doesn’t take orders easily.” There was a tinge of pride in his voice. 

“No, I don’t imagine she does. Still, that connection could be useful.” 

“Perhaps. But I was thinking more along the lines of making use of this powder.” 

“What, on Emma?”

“Of course not on Emma,” Killian snarled. “She’s had more than enough of people trying to control her.” 

Regina had never imagined sympathising with the Saviour, but then she’d sympathised with the pirate earlier so why the hell not? “Well, who then?” she asked.

Killian quirked an eyebrow and his lips curled, and for the first time that night he looked like the Captain Hook of old. “You said that this Zelena is always watching you?” he said.

“Yes, pretty much always.” 

“Mmmm. And how do you imagine she would react if you… deviated from your normal routine?”

Regina began to have an inkling of where he was going with this, and her lips curled as well. “She would probably want to know why.” 

“Would she follow you? Confront you?”

“She might.” 

“Excellent. Here’s my plan…”

---

Regina’s alarm shrilled at 5 am sharp as it did every morning. She rose immediately from her feigned sleep, as she did every morning, showering quickly and dressing in the hated maid’s uniform —such a cliché— then heading downstairs to prepare breakfast for Mary Margaret. Egg white scramble with veggies, gluten-free toast, green tea. Every morning was the same.

Mary Margaret appeared at half past six, impeccably dressed in one of her cliché outfits, seated herself at the kitchen table and picked up the newspaper without a glance at Regina. Ten minutes later David stumbled in, poured himself a cup of black coffee, drank it in two swallows, and left. Not a word to either woman. 

Just like every morning. 

As Mary Margaret ate Regina packed her a kale salad for lunch then cleaned the kitchen. At precisely 7.15 Mary Margaret left for the mayor’s office. Regina cleared away her dishes and loaded the dishwasher, then went upstairs to make the beds and clean the bathrooms, and it wasn’t until everything was pristine and sparkling that she finally collected her shopping bags and headed for the market. 

Her face was impassive, the perfect mask of downtrodden submission she had perfected over the past year, though if she was honest with herself as the year progressed it had become less a mask and more simply what her face did now. This morning however it was unquestionably a mask, concealing the effects of her thrumming heartbeat and eager anticipation.  

As she walked Regina attempted to calm her nerves by looking around her with eyes for the first time intent on observation, taking in details about Storybrooke that had failed to register with her before, when she had seen the world dimly through the haze of her misery and fear. Henry and Hook —Killian— believed something was not quite right about the town, and observing it now Regina could see what they meant. This was not the Storybrooke of her curse, though she’d admit it was close. The layout of the streets was identical, most of the buildings and shop fronts were the same, but the feel of the place was wrong. The trees and plants were wrong, the sounds of the birds were wrong. The colours of the houses and of the shops’ signs were wrong, both darker and more faded than they should have been. The whole effect was like… seeing the town through a poorly judged photo filter, she thought, with the birdsong played on a synthesiser in the wrong key. 

An idea began to unfurl in her mind, just a tiny seed sprouting, pushing through the dirt and opening its delicate leaves to the nourishing light of the sun. Zelena came from Oz, she thought. Her magic dirt came from there. It stood to reason that the curse had also been cast from that land. Perhaps…

Then she saw him, and the seedling idea along with everything else flew from her mind.  

He was coming out of Granny’s with his coffee cup, as he always did. 8.45 every morning, as regular as clockwork, dressed for work in a grey pinstripe suit and white shirt with a pale blue tie. He looked good in it —she doubted he’d look bad in anything— but it was wrong on him. The pristine elegance was wrong, the neatly combed hair so wrong. There was a time when she could never have imagined missing the twigs and leaves that had seemed always to be falling off of him or the way he’d smelled of pine, but after a year of pinstripes she sometimes felt she’d give nearly anything to see him leaf laden and windblown again, bow slung over his shoulder, his eyes filled with a kindness no one else had ever shown her. She held her breath as he came down the path, watching him through lowered lashes, compelled by force of habit not to look directly at him. Then she remembered the plan. 

Standing up straight and squaring her shoulders she subtly but noticeably glamoured herself, smoothing away the bags under her eyes and brightening her cheeks and lips with a faint blush, arranging her hair in the style she knew he liked. She thought about Henry, and about him, and imagined the satisfaction of taking her life back from Zelena, then strode forward with her old confident step and walked straight into him. He gasped as hot coffee sloshed over the rim of his cup, burning his hand and splashing a series of brown stains across his starched shirtfront. 

So this probably wasn’t precisely what Killian meant by “Do something to get Zelena’s attention,” but Regina figured such vague instructions were open to interpretation and she’d missed his eyes. Even narrowed in annoyance as they were now, she’d missed them. 

“Oh,” she said, grateful her voice came out strong and sure, “I’m so sorry.” 

Those eyes looked at her for the first time since before the curse and widened just enough to be flattering. 

“I wasn’t looking where I was going,” said Regina, forcing herself to breathe normally. 

“Oh, it’s, um it’s fine,” he said, but he winced as he shook the droplets from his hand.

“No, it isn’t,” she said firmly, taking his hand and holding his gaze as she healed his burn, keeping him distracted with a small, coy smile so he wouldn’t notice as her magic soothed away the pain. “You must let me buy you another coffee,” she purred.  

He blinked, clearly unsettled. “That’s quite all right, um…” 

“Regina. Mills.” 

“Right, Miss Mills—” 

“Please, just Regina.” 

“Regina.” He smiled at that, such a familiar smile that her hand tightened involuntarily on his. “It’s all right, you don’t have to—” 

“I insist.” She let her hand slide his arm to the crook of his elbow, tightening her grip just slightly as she turned him back towards the diner. “You shouldn’t have to go without caffeine just because I’m clumsy.” 

“Well, all right,” he agreed, and allowed her to lead him back to Granny’s door. She paused just before entering. 

“And what can I call you?” she asked, with another smile that threw him off balance again.  

“Ah.” He swallowed and blinked rapidly, trying to collect his wits. “My name’s John Wood.” 

Of course it is,  thought Regina in disgust, that woman has no imagination. 

“Well, John,” she said. “How do you take your coffee?”

---

As Killian stepped off the road and into the woods that surrounded Storybrooke  he had to forcibly suppress a shiver. If these woodlands had appeared menacing as he and Henry had driven through them less than a week ago, they were far more so outside the relative safety of the truck. Moss hung from gnarled and twisting branches that caught his clothing on their twigs, clinging like skeletal fingers as he passed. Cold mist swirled up from the ground and shrouded his legs to the knees, creeping into every gap in his clothing, making the hair on his legs stand up as goosebumps chased across his skin. Killian was prepared to swear that the force Henry had described trying to hold him back from approaching his old house was here as well. The further he advanced into the forest the more the trees seemed to close around him, threatening to swallow him up even as they made it clear his intrusion was unwelcome. More than once he caught a glimpse of a face in a tree trunk, just from the corner of his eye, but he strongly suspected that if he looked directly at it the face would not be there. The whole effect was utterly, creepily terrifying but Killian simply refused to allow himself to be cowed by plants, however menacing their aspect. He set his jaw and continued walking, not looking behind him, giving no sign that he noticed anything amiss. He was just a man on a lovely morning stroll through some picturesque scenery and he dared anyone to prove otherwise. 

He followed no particular path —there wasn’t really one to follow— but allowed his instincts to guide him. As a man who had passed nearly all of his 200-odd years on the sea he was not adept at travelling over land even in the best of circumstances, which these were decidedly not, and the simple act of putting one foot securely in front of the other without catching it in brambles or undergrowth or stepping into an unexpected rabbit hole or some such required so much of his concentration that little remained for navigation. 

As he stumbled on and the woods deepened, doubts began to creep into his mind. What the hell am I even trying to accomplish with this? he grumbled to himself as yet another thorny vine snagged the arm of his sweater. He’d come here on a whim, unable to shake the feeling that the forest held a crucial clue, that it simply couldn’t be so blatantly ominous for no reason. Centuries of survival had taught him to trust those unshakeable feelings, and Killian did trust this one, but there was quite a lot of forest and only one of him and he was beginning to think he may be wasting the opportunity provided by Regina’s diversion. If he could find nothing today they may not have another chance to distract Zelena. I don’t even know for certain what I’m looking for, he thought, as he stumbled over a large tree root and into a clearing. 

…he stands in the yard of a farmhouse, icy wind swirling snow around him, chilling him to his bones. He looks for Emma, but she is not there… 

The farmhouse stood just at the edge of the clearing, a plain wooden structure painted white, exactly as it had appeared in their dream. The dream that had shown them the flying monkeys, and Walsh, the one that had driven Killian to cross realms to warn Emma of the danger it portended.

This was what he had been looking for, what his time-honed instincts had known was here. He headed across the clearing, feeling oddly exposed after the claustrophobic trek through the woods, observing as much of his surroundings as he could without obviously surveilling them. From the corner of his eye he glimpsed a wooden door on the ground as he passed, secured with a sturdy-looking padlock, apparently some species of storage unit —this seemed to confirm what Regina had said about being held in a sort of cellar— but Killian continued walking. Venturing alone into a small space with only one door struck him as an excellent way to get killed or at the very least imprisoned, and neither of those options appealed to him in the slightest. And besides, his instincts told him the house was more important. 

He strode up to the wraparound porch, not troubling to make any attempt at stealth, and peered in the window. Killian was admittedly no great expert on land dwellings of any realm, but to his eye the inside of the house seemed in keeping with the outside; unadorned and practical, well suited to the simple life of hardworking farmers. 

In the middle of these bloody menacing woods it seemed very out of place. 

As did the large crystal ball that sat in the very centre of its kitchen table. 

“Definitely the right place then,” Killian muttered to himself as he moved over to the door. 

It was unlocked.  

---

Regina left Granny’s with a genuine smile on her face and a cup of coffee that “John” had insisted on buying for her, though he had given in to her insistence on paying for the cup to replace his spilled one. When they reached the gate he thanked her again for his coffee, she thanked him again for hers, she apologised once more for ruining his shirt, and he waved it away yet again, insisting that he had many more just like it and one stained one would make no difference. They grinned stupidly at each other until John recalled that he was about to be late to work and hastily excused himself, hurrying off towards the bank. Regina watched him go with a bittersweet ache in her chest, then turned and nearly walked into her sister. 

She had, of course, been expecting this. “Morning, Sis,” she said with a wide smile. 

“Regina,” hissed Zelena, baring her teeth as her eyes sparked with a fury that was second cousin to madness. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Just having some coffee,” said Regina, casually sipping said beverage. “Why do you ask?”

“Having some coffee?” Zelena’s eyes bugged as she repeated the words. “When your precious son is in danger? Have you forgotten our deal, sister?”

“Is he in danger though?” Regina retorted. “Or did you exaggerate the threat to him in order to keep me under your thumb?”

Zelena looked ready to burst with impotent fury and something clicked in Regina’s head. “You didn’t know!” she exclaimed. “You didn’t know that Henry has been safe all this time!”

“No,” Zelena spat, “I didn’t know that the pirate was in New York. My agent there failed me. He became too focused on the Saviour and failed to notice her lover.”  

Regina’s mind raced. Zelena was clearly unaware of Hook and Emma’s marriage, and almost certainly had no idea that they could still communicate. That was good to know. “And what did you think happened to Henry, when Emma came to Storybrooke without him?” she demanded, icy fury in her voice. “That he was what, just left alone to fend for himself in New York? How could you?” 

“How could I? Have you met me? There is nothing I wouldn’t do to punish you, Regina, to make you suffer. I would have left your brat to starve and far, far more, and I would have enjoyed it. And now, I am going to enjoy finishing you.”

Regina called on her magic, let it flow through her, amplifying her glamour spell and giving Zelena a good look at the full glory of the Evil Queen. She leaned in, matching her sister sneer for sneer. “Oh yeah?” she taunted. “You’ll have to find me first.” 

Purple smoke engulfed her, right there in the middle of Main Street, in front of morning commuters and dog walkers and a Granny’s that was still packed with morning customers. Let Mayor Zelena explain that. 

Re-materialising in the forest near where her vault had been, she closed her hand tightly around something in her pocket, sipped her coffee, and waited. 

Zelena appeared in a cloud of green several minutes later, hair wild and eyes sparking with fury. “How dare you…” she began, but Regina didn’t wait to hear the rest. She pulled her hand from her pocket and flung its contents at her sister’s eyes. The glittering particles she’d been holding flew towards Zelena’s eyes, where they exploded harmlessly into a green cloud much like the one that had brought her here. 

What!” cried Regina, and Zelena cackled in glee.

“Did you really think I could be defeated by the magic of my own land, sister? I may not have been born in Oz, but I have mastered it. And did you really think I wasn’t aware of you using the magic here? I control this town and everything in it, including its store of magic. I brought it here and it is tied to me,  and any time you dip into the reserves, I can sense it. I sensed you transporting two nights ago, and again last night. To steal my poppy soil, presumably. What else have you taken?”

Regina thought frantically. Zelena knew she had transported, but not where. She might not know about Regina’s alliance with Killian, and despite her boast she clearly hadn’t sensed Emma using magic the day before. Regina had to be careful not to give too much away. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she taunted, buying time. 

Zelena laughed again, manic and still edged with fury. “Oh, I’ll find out eventually. I have spies everywhere, traps and alarms in every nook and cranny of this place. No one can do anything in Storybrooke without my knowledge, including,” her eyes lit with delight, “A certain pirate captain who is even now breaking into my farmhouse.” 

Damn it, thought Regina. 

“So if you’ll excuse me sister, I have a pest to exterminate. So lovely to catch up, we really must do this again soon. Ta ta.” Green smoke swirled and she was gone. 

---

Killian pushed open the farmhouse door and stepped inside, his every sense on full alert. The starkly furnished room was silent in an oddly dusty and neglected way considering that Zelena had clearly been there recently, evidenced not only by the crystal ball but also the jars of herbs and potions scattered across the countertops and the squat black cauldron on the stove.

“Subtle,” snorted Killian, and turned his attention back to the table. As he approached it the clear crystal ball became opaque then resolved into the image of Emma’s face. 

He started back in surprise. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, then leaned in for a closer look. Emma was sitting in what he recognised after some struggle as her office at the Sheriff’s station. Her brow was furrowed and she was tapping furiously on the keyboard of her computer, but every few seconds her eyes darted to the car keys sitting next to a coffee cup on the desk. Killian had no time to wonder how or why the ball would show him that or what it could mean or if it was even real, because there were footsteps on the porch approaching the open door. 

He looked up and immediately snarled, clenching both fist and jaw. 

Walsh stood in the doorway, a supercilious smirk on his face.

“Hello, Hook,” he said. 

[wewillwriteyou]

Friends Will Be Friends || Chapter 13

A few elements from the main plot: A very special group of friends: early days, drama, laughter, booze, success, rock stars life, girl power, friendship, love, sex, music, misunderstandings, some more drama, family. Pairings in the tags

Summary Chapter 13: The concert in Peterborough, December 1973. The after party.

Word count: 3.8K

Warnings: There’s a little smut in this one (kissing, touching, mention of sexy times and blah blah, nothing strong), language, drinking

A/N: Hi folks. This happens right after chapter 12 and it’s a bit long, but it explains some of the stuff we have knowingly spared to tell you before. So be careful and enjoy yourselves, lovesies 💖😏 As usual, if you like what you read, comment, like, reblog and share this with others! For everyone who follows and supports this story, thank you guys (you know who you are)! You are real stars! ⭐💗

"I'm telling you, Mel! He was all red and self-conscious, I’ve never seen him like that!” Chelsea was widely gesturing, trying to explain to her friend the awkward scene she had witnessed the previous night. They were sitting on some sound boxes scattered on the stage the boys would have performed on in a few hours: they were in Peterborough, Cambridgeshire, for the last gig of the year and of their tour.

Everyone was excited for that night: the girls were thrilled of having their boys at home for a few weeks before they headed back in the studios to record the new album. The guys were thrilled to conclude their second official tour and, of course, to spend some time away with their girls: they had booked some suites in a hotel in Peterborough for the whole week from Christmas Eve's eve until New Year's Day so that they could have spent both Christmas and New Year’s together and, just as Freddie had requested, throw a huge party.

“I wish I had been there Chel! I don’t know what I would give to go back and see his face” Mel chuckled, picturing Brian trying to disappear inside his curls. And she surely would have liked to meet this mysterious lady who had made Brian May blush.

“Well, if we’re lucky we might see her again… He invited her here”

“No way!” they both giggled like little girls

“What’s so funny girls?” Brian came on stage to tune his Red Special.

The girls exchanged a sly look, Mel got up and dangling on her feet she got closer, looking at him through her lashes “Nothing Bri”

Brian narrowed his eyes, wondering why the hell was she grinning so wide and why the heck Chelsea had the same wide smirk on her face as she sat five feet apart, biting her thumbnail innocently.

“You told her didn’t you?” he snorted at Chelsea; the girl looked away nonchalantly

“You brat” he breathed out. Chelsea pretended to be offended and gasped.

Mel was still looking at him “This girl actually stole your heart, didn’t she?”

Brian moved his attention to her and scoffed “I wouldn’t say that… I just thought she was very pretty and she was very kind to me, so yeah… I flushed, big deal uh?”

Mel smiled fondly “Look at you all flustered just thinking about it!” she pinched his cheek and he waved her hand away, the edge of his lips lifting in a half smile. He knew Melissa could not be any more right: he had been completely starstruck by that red-headed girl and he couldn’t make his head around it.

“I’m not gonna see her again anyway, so…” he admitted more to himself than to her.

“Didn’t you invite her here?”

Brian turned to fulminate Chelsea one more time but she had disappeared. Brian sighed. They were alone and he knew he could trust Melissa with anything “I did, but she lives all the way on the other side of England… Let’s say my hopes are really low right now”

Melissa smiled again “You never know, Bri. The universe works in mysterious and unspeakable ways… It might just surprise you”

Brian let out a quick laugh “C’mon Mel, we’re scientists… aren’t we supposed to be a bit more objective?”

“Maybe… but we are allowed to hope we are actually headed somewhere, aren’t we?” she gently caressed his arm “Just, have a little faith in the universe. It knows what it’s doing.”

She gave him a little smile before stepping away and heading behind the scenes. Before going off stage she turned one more time “It worked for me” she said and Brian smiled warmly. He felt sincerely more hopeful, but he forced himself not to think about her too much. He was too damn scared to be let down again.

Melissa passed through the thick black curtains and walked down the few steps, heading towards the dressing rooms. She was still smiling from her conversation with Brian over science and belief in the universe. Science. Physics. Job. Her mind quickly connected those dots and she sighed to herself: she had to talk to John.

Earlier that month she had applied to a research committee at the Imperial – the college where she was studying – and just a few days before she and the girls had left home to meet the guys in Taunton, she had received a call from the head of the department: they had accepted her.

For some reason she had not told anyone yet, maybe she was afraid of jinxing it. But the research committee would have started working just a few weeks into January and would have lasted at least until June and then from September to November if they gained good results. Which meant she couldn’t leave London for at least six months straight and she couldn’t follow the guys on tour as much as she had done in the past year and a half.

She knew this was a big shot for her and she couldn’t be more thrilled, but she couldn’t help but feel a bit sad that she would have ended up being the one left out.

Besides she didn’t want to spoil everyone’s fun just a few days before Christmas by bothering them with her worries, especially John. But her mind kept on coming back to that and it was driving her crazy. She had to talk to John. She had to hear his comforting words.

As she opened the door to John and Roger’s dressing room her eyes fell on the two tangled figures making out on the sofa.

"Oh my God, guys! Keep it down!” she shouted at Roger and Chelsea, covering her eyes with one hand, the other still on the handle, ready to close the door.

Chelsea flushed and giggled in embarrassment, while Roger laughed out loud at his sister’s reaction.

“What did you think we were doing? Holding hands?” he chuckled.

Mel snorted still not looking at them “I was looking for John, you doofus”

“He’s not here” Roger stated the obvious.

"Well, you don't say" she was about to slam the door when she heard Chelsea shouting that John was looking for her too.

Just as Mel turned around, closing the door behind her, she saw her boyfriend coming up to her with a big smile on his face.

“Hey sweetie” she gave him a little kiss “you were looking for me?” he asked.

“Just wanted to say good luck for tonight” she placed her hands on his shoulders, leaned in to find his lips and kissed him passionately.

John pulled away and smiled “Someone’s in the mood?”

She smirked and gave him a light peck on the cheek “Just a good-luck-kiss”

John chuckled “I’m not sure that’s a thing hon’” he managed to say between kisses.

“You guys are so mushy-slushy. It was cute at first, but now I wonder if I’m getting diabetes” Mary walked past them, rapidly heading to Freddie’s dressing room.

John chuckled and Melissa reached out to playfully slap her bum as she passed beside her. Mary mouthed an ‘ouch’ before disappearing into the stall.

John shook his head “We are pretty sappy, aren’t we?” he leaned in to kiss her again, a smile still on his face.

“Yeah but it’s sweet” Mel replied between kisses. John was directing her to his dressing room but Mel halted him.

“I wouldn’t go in there. Rog and Chel already going at it and I’m thrilled by the idea of making out right on the couch right next to my brother” Mel chuckled.

John let out an embarrassed chuckle and took her hand, dragging her through the corridors. They were giggling and stumbling in their feet until they reached an unused stall and John closed the door behind them. He turned around and smirked at the girl, making her softly chuckle.

“You are a dork” she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed the tip of his nose.

John smiled and laced his arms around her waist, while slowly directing her to the table in the middle of the room “We’ll see about that, honey” he said with a nifty smirk. He glided his hands to her thighs and lifted her up so that she could sit on the table, while he placed himself between her legs.

She squealed and softly giggled before kissing him again. She knew perfectly well that she was only pushing forwards the conversation they had to have.

Melissa regretfully pulled away, placing a hand on John’s chest, who was trying to inch further, hands on her thighs and a longing smirk on his face.

“John, I need to tell you something” she looked down and the smile died down on his face.

“What’s wrong Mel?”

“Nothing, honey” she gently cupped his cheek “I just need to tell you this because I’ve been holding back too long. I got a small temporary job as a researcher at the Imperial…”

“What? That’s great Mel!” he immediately hugged “it’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is” she sadly smiled “I have my first shift on the 14th, and I’ll be working 5/7 until June. Then again, if everything goes as planned, from September to November”

“But…”

Mel sighed “But that means I won’t be able to see you most of the year.”

John realized she was probably right. They had some songs ready to be recorded and had booked the recording studio for January and February. Then the plan was to tour for about a month in the UK to present the new album and in April, if everything had gone their way, they would have flied to America for a two months tour. Then again some recording in the summer and another tour throughout the autumn.

Mel was sadly looking at her hands, maybe regretting telling him just before what was supposed to be a joyful occasion. John noticed how miserable she was and quickly lifted her chin up to look into her eyes

“It’s gonna be fine Mel,” he softly said with a smile “we’re gonna find a way of seeing each other, honey”

He lightly kissed and then added “And I want you to know I’m so proud of you for getting this job. You deserve it.”

Mel smiled and shook her head “What did I do to deserve you, Deacon?”

John lifted an eyebrow “Deacon? That’s new…”

She smirked and drew him closer “What? You prefer John Richard Deacon? It’s a bit long to say everyti-”

“Stop talking”

She couldn’t finish because John crushed his lips into hers. She smiled into the kiss and wrapped her arms behind his neck. Melissa thought to herself that John was really good – maybe even too good – at making her stop worrying about things. He always knew what to say and how to react at every single worry she would expose him.

“You know you can’t kiss your way out of everything, right?” she managed to say between kisses.

John playfully smirked “We’ll see about that, honey”

***

The crowd applauded one last time. Brian put down his guitar to join the others upstage and bow to the audience. As he stood there, between Roger and Freddie, he tried to scoop the crowd with his eyes, hopeful to see a mass of red curls.

When he didn’t he felt a staggering pain in the chest; he was more disappointed than he cared to admit. Mel’s little speech on hope and universe and all that crap had actually made him more delusional than he would have wanted to be.

He stumbled behind the curtains of the stage and went straight into his and Freddie’s dressing room, careless of the interrogative faces of the girls and the crew that were waiting for them. When he heard someone screaming that the bus had just arrived to take them to the hotel, he didn’t even bother to change his clothes. He just picked up his bag and Freddie's and headed to the back door of the building.

He wasn’t sure whether he was sad or angry or disappointed. Maybe he was all three at the same time.

He climbed onto the bus and sat in the front, waiting for all the party of people to come up. When he exchanged looks with Melissa, she gave him a sad smile. He didn’t return the smile and looked another way: it wasn’t her fault but he could feet a gulp of rage coming from his deep throat and he knew if he had opened his mouth, he would have thrown it up all over her.

When they arrived at the hotel, his first impulse was to run as fast as he could to his bedroom to avoid any other possible human contact who could invite him to the band’s Christmas party. Freddie had invited a lot of people but Brian could not stand the idea of standing among his friends. He normally didn’t care that they were three couples and he was the only single one (Roger had tried many times of fixing him up with girls he knew but Brian had always kindly refused).

That evening, however, he thought he could have thrown up at the sight of them being happy as ever and him being alone and, what was more, “dumped” by the only girl he actually wanted to see.

He walked fast into the lobby and asked for the key to his room. The receptionist cordially obliged and as he turned to go upstairs he caught with the glimpse of an eye a mass of curly red hair getting up from the bar and running toward Melissa and Roger.

Brian felt his chin touch the ground. Chrissie.

“Chris! Oh my God! What are you doing here?” Mel exclaimed hugging the redhead tightly.

The girl chuckled and stumbled on her feet, overwhelmed by the energy the blonde put into the hug.

“I wanted to see you guys! I actually was at last night’s concert but didn’t get to say hi. So when they told me you had one more gig, I rushed up here”

“And you rushed up here just to see me and Mel?” Roger asked cockily.

She laughed and turned to hug him tightly as well “It’s good to see you, Chris. It’s been too long”

Chelsea was helping John and Freddie with some bags but it didn’t slip her eyes the way Roger looked at Chrissie and the way she hugged him. Don’t be ridiculous, she must be just a friend, she said to herself, trying to ignore the peak of jealousy staggering her stomach. She focused on the packing and missed the rest of the conversation, her eyes forced on what she was doing and not on the way Chrissie was holding Rog’s hands.

“It is… we have so much catching up to do!” she said enthusiastically, still holding Roger’s hands “But I must say, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for your guitarist… Brian, I think…” Chrissie tried to play it cool, pretending not to know that his name was indeed Brian and, more importantly, pretending that she hadn’t rushed to Peterborough, Cambridgeshire, just to see him again. And of course, to catch up with Melissa and Roger, she thought. Oh, c’mon you don’t even believe it yourself.

Brian still had his chin on the ground, but when he heard her say his name he startled out of his trance and stepped closer to the small group, clearing his throat to introduce himself.

When Chrissie laid her eyes on him and smiled warmly, Brian’s heart skipped a beat. How the hell did she manage to make his mind blank out of any reasonable – or at least normal - thing to say?.

“I see you made it, at last, Chrissie” he managed to say.

Chrissie felt a rush of electricity throughout her body, hearing him say her name. She nodded and quickly hugged him, as a way of greeting him. It was an embarrassed hug from both parts and when they pulled away they both giggled and looked down, flushing.

Mel and Roger exchanged knowing looks and Mel had to bite down her lip, realizing that Chrissie was the girl Chelsea had told her about. Brian and Chrissie looked immensely cute, standing there and looking everywhere but at each other.

Roger broke the awkward silence “Chrissie I hope you’re planning on staying the night, cause we’ve got a huge party waiting for us in the hall. Would you fancy joining us?”

Chrissie glanced at Brian, before turning to Roger and saying “I’d love to. But I have yet to book a room for the night… if you guys excuse me one sec-”

Roger placed an arm on her shoulder and guided her towards the hall, Melissa and Brian two steps behind “I sense you won’t be needing one, dear” Brian flushed and slapped him on his head, making Roger loudly cackle. Melissa covered her mouth to contain her laughter, earning a cold stare from Brian as well.

***

The party didn’t turn out to be that huge anyway. A hundred people, more or less. Mostly from the band's crew, a few of the hotel’s guests and some friends of the band. Quite a lot of people for a Christmas party in the three-star hotel of a small town, but not enough as Freddie had hoped.

As he walked through the crowd, saluting their guests and wishing Merry Christmas to everyone, he had Mary on his side, acting like the significant other she was. They walked up to John and Chelsea, who were enjoying their drinks by the curtained window.

“This party is a bummer” he breathed out, crushing on the nearest armchair.

“What are you talking about, Fred? Everyone’s enjoying themselves!” Chelsea rubbed his shoulder.

“Besides, it’s a great way of saying good-bye to the whole crew and wish them Merry Christmas” John added.

“I guess you’re right…” Freddie admitted “I just feel like there’s not enough booze and everyone is awfully… still”

The others chuckled, then Mary said, “Maybe it’s better not to have everyone hammered the day before Christmas… It’s fine, honey, relax” she gently rubbed his shoulder and sat on his lap to wrap an arm around his shoulder to kiss him gently.

Chelsea smiled and looked away, her eyes scooping the room to find her boyfriend who had apparently disappeared from her sight the moment she had left him at the reception with Brian, Chrissie and Melissa.

She hated to admit she felt some kind of jealousy. Unjustified jealousy, at that. Is it unjustified? she couldn’t help but wonder. She trusted Roger obviously, but a part of her still feared he could get sick of being her boyfriend and could realize he preferred going back into the one-night-stand game. She shoved down the last drops of her flute and furrowed her eyebrows as the alcohol lingered down her throat.

John noticed she was upset, so he placed a hand on her elbow to stir her away from Mary and Freddie.

“Are you okay?” he simply asked.

Chelsea forced a smile “Sure. I’m fine”

“Doesn’t seem like it”

“Doesn’t seem like your business” she mocked him, then realized what she had said and to whom she was talking to.

“I’m sorry, John. I’m a bit dizzy and… upset. Dangerous combo” she let out a forced laugh “but I don’t think I want to talk about it”

John studied her face. She had been upset since they had arrived at the hotel, almost an hour earlier. He knew he was on risky territory, but he needed to know,

“Did Roger do something to upset you?”

“How did you-” she started, but then corrected herself “No, he didn’t… I’m just wondering where he is” She decided to say.

John wasn’t convinced “Chel, you know you can talk to me, right?”

Chelsea turned to him and smiled, sincerely this time “I know,”

She sighed. Oh, what the hell, this is killing me.

“Do you know who this Chrissie is?” she asked, maybe more brutally than she had intended.

John scoffed “So that’s what this is all about…”

Chelsea smacked his upper arm “I’m not jealous, jerk”

“Never said you were…” John grinned “Look Chel, I actually have no idea who the hell Chrissie is but I have to say, if – and let me stress if – you’re a teeny tiny jealous, it’s not worth it. Roger would literally die – or better kill – for you. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about”

He smiled at his best friend and when he saw her smiling slightly back, he felt he had done something good. He wasn’t sure he was right, though. He had felt the urge to reassure Chelsea, but deep down he feared she might be right to be jealous. He decided to keep those thoughts to himself and just warmly smile at her, promising to himself he would have done anything to spare her from any suffering.

If there was something he was sure of, it was that he would have done anything for two of the most important women in his life: Chelsea and Melissa.

In the exact moment he thought about her, she appeared in his sight, cheeks red and glittery eyes – probably from the alcohol she had ingested. She was stumbling towards them, anchored to who he identified as Chrissie and followed by Roger and Brian.

The four of them completed the circle of the small group. They all looked at each other, no-one knowing what to say. Roger broke the silence “For those who haven’t met her yet, this is Chrissie” he pointed at the redheaded girl between him and Melissa “we had some classes together in high school and she used to hang around a lot with us” and he indicated himself and Melissa.

Chrissie shook hands with everyone she hadn’t met yet and when it came to Chelsea she said “I know you! You were the girl who was helping Brian last night. Chelsea, right?”

Ugh, she’s nice. Chelsea nodded “Yeah it was me, good to see you again” she forced herself to smile politely, repeating John’s words inside her head.

“Now that we are all here,” Freddie started, getting up and gesturing to the waiter to bring them some more flutes of wine “I propose a toast”.

When they all had a glass in their hands, Freddie looked around to the group of people standing in front of him. Roger had crossed the small circle to reach Chelsea and wrap an arm around her shoulders and look her fondly in the eyes; John had his arm around Mel’s waist and she had rested her head on his shoulder; Chrissie was awkwardly standing a few inches in front of Brian but when Freddie made eyes at him, he slowly placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her closer to him, so that they were now in some way hugged too; Mary was as always by his side, arms wrapped around his, head resting on his shoulder.

Freddie smiled, feeling his heart filling with joy at the sight “To us”.

Chapters: ⤎ previous | next ⤏ 

A/N: Hello again! Hope you enjoyed this one 💗 we’re gonna tag the lovely people who read, liked and commented the previous chapters. If you want to be tagged in the next one, comment under this one or leave us a message. Our inboxes are always open for you beautiful people

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[let-me-love-you-loki]

Hounds of Justice--Ch. 69

A/N: For Ro--welcome back Big Dog!

Chapter 69

           “It’s hard to believe it’s been a year since you debuted,” Dean said, barely understandable around a mouth full of burger. We were at a hole in the wall place in Ohio, near the same arena where I debuted almost exactly one year before.

           I pushed my fries around my plate, trying to find one of the mushy ones that were my favorite. “Yeah. Six months of action and six months of this,” I replied, gesturing to the chair beneath me. Shrugging, I popped a fry through my mouth.

           “But it was a hell of a six months, wasn’t it, dollface?” I could tell he was trying to keep things light and playful. I was glad for it.

           “Damn right it was.” I grinned at him, picked up the burger that he’d ordered for me. It was huge—overflowing with sautéed onions and mushrooms, cheddar cheese, grilled pineapple, and barbeque sauce—and I didn’t know how I was going to finish even half of it.

           We were quiet for a few minutes as we both dug in to our food. It had been a long time since Dean and I had been able to just sit down, the two of us together. He was so much like Georgie and Bran, but there was something else about him—something that made him a missing piece of my soul. I loved him in a way that I couldn’t explain. It was like he knew the depths of the thoughts in my mind—how dark and frightening they could be. He was a balm to all that pain, because he understood it. He knew what it was like to feel out of place, like everything could be taken from you in an instant with no warning.

           Dean Ambrose was the rock beneath my feet, the calm in the storm of life. And I’d be forever grateful to him for it.

           “Nervous for your first night on the job?” He wiped his mouth, leaned his elbow on the table. His eyes twinkled playfully.

           “Not really.” I shrugged. Having him close by made it easier to think about sitting backstage in gorilla, headset on, tapped in to the referees as I produced my first match. “Especially since it’s your match. You’re a boss at what you do, Dean. Everyone who gets in the ring with you looks fantastic.”

           He grinned, pleased with the ego stroking. “That might be true—hell, it is true. But other than Seth and Ro, you are the one who knows me the best inside that ring. It doesn’t matter that we only worked together for six months in there. You’re like Seth—between those ropes, you know me inside and out.”

           I blushed and reached over, squeezing his hand. “Love you, Dean.”

           “You, too, dollface.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

           Hunter made sure I had a place that was comfortable for me—enough space to move if I needed to, a wireless headset to talk to the refs, even a mobile monitor if I needed to go somewhere. It wouldn’t have surprised me if he came out with a custom rig for my chair with all my production gear.

           I was set up near Vince which made me more than a little nervous. Especially since Dean was the Universal Champion. Even if the match wasn’t for his title, no one wanted the Universal Champion to lose on a Monday night to a mid-card player. As much as I liked Elias, Dean was more important.

           Dean bounced nearby, his title around his waist, wrists taped up, a grin spread on his face. He smiled over at me, winking playfully as his music hit. Elias was already in the ring, trying his best to get out a song before he got interrupted. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t get very far.

           I watched on the monitor as Dean sauntered down the ramp, cracking his neck side to side as he went. A grin settled on my face as I watched him, having missed the way he moved, the kind of confidence he had when he was in the zone. He was a thing of beauty—lithe, graceful, powerful, enticing. I loved watching him wrestle. It was one of the things that made me the happiest.

           The match kicked off. The two of them locked up in the center of the ring, trading holds and blows. The pace picked up quickly—one corner to the other, flinging each other against the ropes, bouncing back. Clotheslines. Shoulder tackles. Chin locks. Elbows. Boots. Elias was a little bigger, but Dean was fast and smooth.

           They hit every point of the match we’d planned. A fight over the guitar outside the ring. Elias getting suplexed from the second rope. Dean getting caught up in a sleeper hold near the center of the ring. He hit his knees, Elias putting his body weight on his neck. Dean started to fade, and the crowd started stomping, clapping, chanting his name.

           Let’s Go Dean thundered through the arena. I grinned as he started fighting his way to his feet. He ran Elias back into the turnbuckle, shook him loose.

           The match ended with Dean hitting Elias with a Hook-and-Ladder. A count of two and a half. Elias tried to roll Dean into Drift Away, but got caught in Dirty Deeds instead. The three count was easy after that.

           Dean strutted back up the ramp holding his title over his head. He dripped sweat, his hair matted on his forehead. I watched as he winked at Renee at commentary before he slipped into the backstage area. He crossed gorilla and dropped a kiss on the top of my head.

           “You did good, dollface.”

           He disappeared back into the locker room area—hopefully to take a shower. I slipped off the headset and put it beside the monitor. Vince gave me a barely noticeable nod of approval before I rolled off in search of Seth and Roman.

           I found Roman first. He was sitting on top of a road crate, headphones on, phone in his hand. I tapped his boot to get his attention. He grinned, lighting up his black eyes. His damp hair was drawn back in a knot, his gloves lying on the crate beside him.

           “How’d it go, itiiti?” His voice was rich and deep, a sound that I’d missed hearing so much.

           I smiled back at him, trying not to cry. “Fantastic, but it was Dean’s match. You know he wasn’t going to let me look bad on my first night.”

           Roman chuckled. “They wouldn’t have trusted you with a UC match if they didn’t know you could make it look great.”

           My heart swelled with love for the Hounds who had taken me in—for Dean who had become my other half, for Roman who would always be the anchor in my life, and for Seth who had swept my heart into the whirlwind. My vision blurred. I wiped furiously at my lashes.

           “Hey,” Roman murmured, fingers against my cheek. He tucked hair behind my ear. “Don’t do that. You’re back and there’s no cause for crying. Ia fiafia, tuafafine laititti.”

           I sniffled, giggling. “All I got out of that was little sister.”

           He laughed. It was that musical chuckle of his that always enhanced the warmth that radiated off him. “We’ve really got to work on your Samoan, Llane.”

           “You can teach me in the car,” I said, finding my smile again. “I’m going back on the road with you guys.”

           “Good. It’s about time.” He hopped off the crate, his smile still radiating brightness and joy. “It’s good to have you back, itiiti.”

           He brushed a kiss on my forehead before grabbing his gloves and stalking toward gorilla. Shaking my head blissfully, I took off in search of Seth.

Tag List

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[typhonserpent]

You Showed Me, Chapter 7

Fandom: Dragon Age 2 Rating: Explicit Genre: Romance/Omegaverse Pairing: Fenris/Anders Summary: Omegaverse AU. Fenris has a secret that nobody else knows. When he has to travel to Orlais to help Hawke and her new friend Tallis steal a priceless jewel, his secret becomes harder to hide. When Anders discovers what Fenris is hiding, what he does with the knowledge is not what Fenris expected.

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They opened the door to a guard in red armor.

"What in the name?" He shouted in a thick Orlesian accent, stopped only by the sight of Tallis calmly approaching him with her hands out.

"There's no need for you to die today, friend. Just move on. You never saw us."

He cupped his hand to his mouth and just barely managed to begin the word, "Thieves!" Before his shout turned into a gurgle, blood shooting up around Tallis' dagger in his neck. His body spasmed briefly before he collapsed, dead in seconds.

"You could have walked away." She sighed as she knelt next to him and yanked the dagger out of his neck.

Hawke cocked an eyebrow, "Something wrong?"

"I didn't want to kill him."

"I've seen you kill several men."

"There are other paths. They do not all need to lead to the same destination."

Fenris grumbled, "Cheap words from a criminal."

Which had Tallis shooting to her feet, glaring while she pointed her dagger at him, "You've never sought a different path, Fenris? Really? In between resigning yourself to a life of slavery and escaping to Kirkwall you didn't stop to reconsider the path you were walking in your life?"

"Wait, how-"

"Enough!" Hawke stepped between the two of them, "We're here for the Heart." And with those words, shouldered past Tallis and into the manor vault. Tallis had her lips pursed shut, eyes glued to the ground and avoiding Fenris' accusing glare while she turned and followed Hawke.

Fenris was shaking, livid, and followed only because Anders had decided to obey as well. He kept his eyes on the back of her head the whole time.

x - X - x

The iron gate came down and separated Anders and Fenris from Hawke and Tallis with a deafening clang.

Any number of traps were to be expected in an Orlesian vault, but when Fenris tried to lift the gate only to find it thoroughly locked in place, he set his glare on Tallis.

"I swear I didn't know!" She hissed, holding up her hands, "There's gotta be some sort of switch."

"It's never easy, is it?" Hawke sighed, "Alright, we'll look around on this side and you two circle back and see if there was a switch we missed."

Fenris glanced at Tallis, then back at Hawke, "Will you be alright here?"

"After the blight, a dragon, and a crazed magister?" Hawke winked, "I think I can handle a few Orlesian guards."

His eyes passed over Tallis again, then returned to Hawke. He nodded, then swiveled and left with Anders close behind.

They had left the hallway well behind them before Anders said, "Something the matter?"

"I never told Tallis about by time as a slave. Unless Hawke mentioned it to her, she knows too much."

"You think she set up the trap?"

"I don't know. Maybe." He paused, studying a painting of the younger Duke Prosper, flanked by two vases. He picked up each vase in turn, and replaced them when no mechanism was found.

"No." He concluded, "I don't think she could have set that up in advance. But I think Hawke trusts her too much."

There was a deafening CRASH to his left, where they'd entered the vaults. Armored footsteps rattled their way down the hall. Grabbing Fenris' arm, Anders ducked around the corner and took refuge in the shadows of a rounded door frame. While Anders flattened himself against the wall, Fenris peered around the corner to catch sight of the platoon of guards that were running past, directly towards Hawke and Tallis.

He didn't stop staring until Anders tapped him on the shoulder and jerked his head backwards. Anders opened the door they'd been hiding next to and revealed a storage closet. A broom and mop leaned against one corner with a bucket nearby. A pile of rags accompanied some scrub brushes and a bar of soap on the wall shelf. Anders shut the door behind them, leaving them in total darkness until a mage light flared to light in his palm.

"What now?" Fenris asked.

"Well, while you were snooping around the corner, I managed to find something."

There was one stone in the wall that stood out, perfectly round and smooth, and when Anders pressed it the wall swung away to reveal a second hallway behind.

"The way we came in is out of the question," Anders continued, "I think this is our only option."

There was no small amount of dust and cobwebs in the passage. Thankfully only the smaller breeds of spider managed to cross their paths. The first door they came across opened to the back of a tapestry which bore the Prosper family crest. Pushing it aside spit them into a familiar hallway. The loud clank of dishware and the murmur of conversation greeted them. Servants in the kitchen down the hall were scrubbing away evidence of the Duke's party.

Following their previous route led them back to the vault entrance, the guard’s body still growing cold at the entrance.

The iron gates that had separated their party before were returned to their previous position. Fenris noted the thicker-than-usual crack in the ceiling as they passed under them, this time with far lighter steps. Even slowly creeping along, Fenris managed to brush a stone which sank slightly before he realized his error and retreated.

It was only by following the path that didn't lead further into the vaults that they managed to find the dungeon. They entered a small room with a steel door on the other side, marked only by a tiny window with bars on it. Next to it was a chest that with Hawke's staff resting beside it. A guard was asleep on a cot in the corner.

Fenris phased his hand through the guard’s back and made quick work of him before he even woke up. With a squeeze of Fenris' hand, the guard only gurgled quietly before going limp. Opening the chest revealed Tallis' throwing daggers. After gathering the weapons and relieving the guard of his keys, they went inside.

Rows and rows of cells were empty, and just as Anders inhaled and cupped his mouth, a familiar voice echoed through the otherwise empty prison.

"I have a question." Tallis said, and Fenris put his hand over Anders' mouth.

"When the duke told you what I was, you said you didn't care. Was that true?"

"You could have told me the truth." Hawke replied, "I might have listened."

"And what if you didn't?"

"I suppose we'll never know."

A short pause, and Fenris' hand slowly lowered. Tallis continued, "I am sorry. This didn't work out like I'd planned ... obviously."

"What was your plan exactly?"

"The one I expected to find is named Salit, a member of the Ben-Hassrath ... the Heart of the Many. I was told he's here to sell secrets to the Orlesians, and I came to stop him. I ... suppose I was misinformed."

"So you came here to stop this Salit from betraying your people?"

"You probably won't believe me, but this isn't a political mission. It's ... personal."

"What do you mean?"

"Salit was my bessrathari - the one who recruited me into the Ben-Hassrath. My tutor. I was a slave, being transported in chains to a new master who had bought a whole ship of us. The Qunari love raiding any Tevinter ship that comes close to their waters. They freed us all, giving us the choice to go where we wished or join the Qun. Salit saw my potential, convinced me that I could make a difference."

Eyes wide, Fenris ran towards the cell that held Hawke and Tallis. Tallis' voice cracked, "It doesn't matter now."

Tallis came into view first, seated on the floor with her back against the wall. Laying eyes on her was like finding a lost piece of a puzzle.

"Dithari?" He asked.

She met his gaze, eyes glazed over. She looked ready to cry even though a smile tugged at her lips.

"You remembered." She breathed.

"You ... dyed your hair."

"No, but it was dark in Danarius' basement. I don’t blame you for not noticing."

Fenris was breathless as she rose, a far cry from the timid girl who'd washed his wounds and coaxed him to drink water and healing potions. When she moved to press her hand against the bars of the cell, he stared at her eyes. Wide, stormy gray, and as gentle as he remembered them.

"You two know each other now?" Hawke quipped from her corner of the cell, "Any other secrets people want to share? Anders, you're not the Divine or anything, are you?"

"Knickerweasels, no." Anders laughed.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Fenris breathed.

“Would you have listened to me?” She asked, cocking an eyebrow, “Be honest.”

His eyes met the floor.

Tallis coughed to clear her throat, finally moving her hand away from Fenris'. "Well, mushy reunions aside, I say we get out of here before the Duke decides we would taste good in the soup ... or whatever he has planned."

Bending down, Tallis removed a single pin from her hair and set to work picking the cell's lock. Seconds later, the gate was sliding up.

"So, back through the castle, then?" Hawke said as she took the lead.

Tallis took one step forward before Fenris' hand on her shoulder stopped her. "Wait," He said, "You said this Salit was selling secrets?"

"He is." She nodded, "Or at least he intends to. One last act of defiance. I couldn't let him do that. Not when he'll hurt so many others in the process."

Hawke was already out the cell door, taking her staff from Andes. She glanced back at Tallis, "He'll hurt other Qunari?"

"Not every Qunari is a soldier." Fenris replied.

"There are tens of thousands of farmers, aristans, craftsmen ..." Tallis continued, "People who have never hurt anyone. People who's only crime is living! People who helped me when I didn't even have the words to ask for help!" Her voice was echoing in the empty prison. Having realized this, she took a breath and pressed her hands together. Fenris recognized the meditation technique he'd seen repeated by both Qunari and Tal Vashoth.

"I never knew what it was like to have someone help you without any concern for themselves." She continued, voice steady, "I want to pay them back. They don't deserve what Salit is going to do to them."

Slowly, Fenris' eyes were drawn to Anders, who was staring back with complete helplessness. Light may have been shed on the situation, but the path still wasn’t clear yet. Someone had to make a decision. Tallis shuffled her feet, eyes on the floor.

"One last question." Fenris said, causing her head to snap up, "Did you involve Hawke to get to me?"

She shook her head, "I chose Hawke because she was the only one on the invitation list who wasn't a personal friend of the Montfort family. And she's also the Champion of Kirkwall. And a Ferelden with no reason to love Orlais."

This time, Hawke chimed in with a question, "So what was supposed to happen when all this was over?"

"Truth? This wasn't exactly what I was expecting." Tallis was wearing a smile that was some mix of awkward politeness and genuine amusement, "Asit tal-eb."

Fenris translated aloud, "'It is to be'."

They spent another few seconds in awkward silence. Anders offered Tallis her throwing daggers, which she accepted with a forced smile.

Finally, Fenris took the lead. “Come. We will stop Salit.”

[enchanted-flowers]

Never Take Advice from your Brother’s Dating Manuel

A gift for @beckyshecky because their Kustard art gives me life. Seriously I get so many feels from their art, and I don’t even ship Kustard that much, I just love it. 

Also, this is my entry for @bonelynomore‘s fanfiction contest! This wasn’t going to be my original fic that I was going to submit, but my original turned out to be a couple...thousand words over the word limit, so I scrapped this up, a week before the deadline. 

Beta read by: @letshexforlove, @sesrins-symphony, @dtk-imagines, @crappyartforyou. Thank you for taking a look guys! 

Word count: 3,463 Rating:T Tags: Fluff Pairing: UT Sans x UF Sans Summary: Red can’t stop staring at the cute skeleton across the cafeteria. Classic can’t stop daydreaming about the bad boy who lived down the street from him. Both believe that neither of them had a chance with the other. It’s going to take some intervention to get these lovesick idiots just to go out on a date.  

“YOU’RE STARING!”

“w-what? no i’m not!” Red’s eyelights flicker to the other skeleton across the cafeteria, who is too absorbed in his homework to notice anything, thankfully, “and keep it down, will ya?”

“WHY?! DO YOU NOT WANT THE ENTIRE WORLD-” Edge raises his voice louder into a shout, but before he could finish, Red leaps over the table, knocking over several trays of food and spilling the chocolate milk in the process. He covers his brother’s annoying mouth and pushes him to the ground, “WHAT THE HELL RED?!”

The students around them glare at the two monsters on the floor, then return to their lunchtime activities, rolling their eyes at the brothers. Red glances at the cute skeleton across the room, and sighs in relief. He is still oblivious.

“keep it down or i’m never gonna pick up that sock on the floor.”

“YOU’RE NEVER GOING TO PICK IT UP ANYWAY!”

Red silently pleads with his eyelights and Edge rolls his eyes, nodding in agreement. The short skeleton climbs off of his brother and helps him up. Together, they pick up the trays and tidy up the mess, then return to their respective seats. The cafeteria drones on in senseless chatter, unaware of what just went down. Heh. Went down. Red props his jaw up with his hand and mindlessly stirs his mushy mashed potatoes.

“Seriously though, you’ve been staring at the kid all semester. Just ask him out already,” Edge says, for the tenth time this week.

“i told you before, it doesn’t work like that,” Red mumbles, still stirring his food.

“What are you talking about? It’s simple! Just go up to him and ask if he wants to see a movie with you!”

Red remains unresponsive, burying himself into his jacket and blushing slightly.

“UGH. MUST I DO EVERYTHING FOR YOU?!” before Red could stop him, Edge stands up and makes his way across the cafeteria towards the other skeleton.

“hey, bro, wait, what are you... fuck stop stop stop!!”

“YOU!” Edge pounds his fist on the table, startling the other monster.

“Yes?” he tilts his head in confusion.

Red is going to die.

“YOU SEE MY BROTHER OVER THERE,” Edge points at Red, who’s blushing wildly and panicking. The other skeleton nods his head, “HE WANTS TO GO THE MOVIES WITH YOU ON FRIDAY. DO YOU ACCEPT?”

The skeleton glanced over at Red causing him to squeak and blush even harder, but he gave a lopsided smile and a small wave. Nice going, Red.

“okay,” the other skeleton blinks, still unsure of what else to say.

“GREAT! HE’LL PICK YOU UP AT YOUR HOUSE AT 7! GOOD DAY!”

The other skeleton’s eye lights train on Red, so he turns around, throws his hood up, and runs out of the cafeteria.

Classic sighs heavily into his quantum physics book, dreaming about wrapping his arms around Red’s thick back on a motorcycle, the feel of leather under his fingertips as the winds fly past his face. He giggles quietly to himself as he imagines Red looking back at him to make sure he’s okay, his red eye lights glistening with his handsome smirk, gold tooth flashing in the sun. Sans’s cheeks heat up in a blue tone as his soul leaps in his chest.

A loud bang pulls him out of his daydream, but he doesn’t bother looking up. Instead, he returns to his fantasy, absorbed in the soul stopping eyes behind the sunglasses.Suddenly, a fist pounds on his table, startling him back to reality, his soul thundering in his chest. He looks up and notices a familiar monster, a tall skeleton with razor sharp teeth and blood-red makeup lined underneath his eyes. Classic recognizes him as Papyrus’s martial arts rival and Red’s younger brother. They’ve never really talked, so he tilts his head, confused as to why he would approach him like this.

“YOU SEE MY BROTHER OVER THERE,” Edge points over at Red, who looks like a deer caught in the headlights, “HE WANTS TO GO TO THE MOVIES WITH YOU ON FRIDAY. DO YOU ACCEPT?”

This was a prank right? There’s no way Edge can be serious. Why would Red want to go on a date with him? He has to say no. He can’t. He has a test he needs to study for, which he’d rather do instead of go on a date with a super hot hunk-

“okay,”  

“GREAT! HE’LL PICK YOU UP FROM YOUR HOUSE AT 7! GOOD DAY!”

Classic glances at Red, still bewildered that he wanted to go on a date with him. The other skeleton scowls, throws his hood up, and exits the cafeteria.

Classic’s heart sinks.

The week flies by without incident. And that was it. Without incident. Classic sees Red in the halls, and since his brother asked him out for him, he figures that he should at least say something. But every time he approached him or waved hello, Red turned in another direction.

Thursday night comes by and Sans trembles with his cellphone in his hand. His finger hovers over the text icon on Red’s profile, the green light indicating that he’s online. Okay. He can do this. It’s just one text. Steadying his breathing, Classic opens up the messenger and types:

Classic: why did the skeleton dance alone at the party? Classic: because he had nobody to go with!

Classic chuckles at his own pun, leans back in his chair, and waits for the reply.

Red’s phone dings and he automatically reaches for it, swiping the screen open and seeing a pop-up notification from Classic. His heart races as his thumb hovers over the chat bubble, the endless and probable possibilities racing through his mind. Did Classic want to cancel the date? Did he never want to go in the first place and just said yes to be polite? Was he going to ask Red to bring candy? Red doesn’t have candy!

Alright, get a hold of yourself Red, you can do this.  

He taps on the chat bubble and reads the message, laughing out loud at Classic’s joke. Red never knew that he had a sense of humor, and knowing that Classic does, warms his soul with fluttering fire as his grin stretches even wider. He taps on the text box to reply, when all of a sudden, Edge bursts into his room, screaming at him to help him with dinner. Red rolls his eyes, tosses his phone onto the bed, and follows his brother to the kitchen. The louder skeleton hands him a wooden spoon and orders him to stir the tomato sauce so it doesn’t burn while he chops up the mushrooms.  

“SO HAVE YOU PICKED OUT A RESTAURANT AND A MOVIE FOR FRIDAY?! HOW MUCH MONEY DO YOU HAVE SAVED UP?! WHAT ABOUT AN OUTFIT?”

“dude what are you talking about?”

“THE DATE! THAT YOU HAVE WITH THAT PAPAYA’S BROTHER! HAVE YOU ALREADY FORGOTTEN? OH DEAR ASGORE PLEASE DON’T TELL  ME YOU FORGOT”

“of course i haven’t forgotten. but dinner? money? outfit? i thought we were just gonna see a movie”

“DON’T BE AN IDIOT, RED! OF COURSE YOU NEED TO TAKE HIM TO DINNER AND WEAR SOMETHING NICE! IT’S A DATE, YOU FOOL! AND SINCE YOU’RE THE ONE THAT ASKED HIM OUT YOU HAVE TO PAY FOR EVERYTHING!”

“technically, you’re the one-”

Edge shoots him a death glare and throws his hands up into the air.

“fine. fine. i’ll scrap up whatever money i have and look for places to eat. i’ll get us tickets to see that sci-fi movie-”  

A sharp CLANK echos through the kitchen as Edge drops his knife in shock and horror.

“NO! ARE YOU TRYING TO MAKE THIS THE WORST DATE OF ALL DATES? ACCORDING TO MY DATING MANUAL, YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO TAKE HIM TO SEE A ROMANTIC MOVIE! NOT SOME STUPID FILM ABOUT SPACE AND GUNS!”

“but i don’t like-”

“IT DOESN’T MATTER WHAT YOU LIKE, DO YOU WANT THIS BOY TO LIKE YOU OR NOT?!”

“...i do,”

“THEN JUST DO EVERYTHING I SAY AND NOTHING WILL GO WRONG! NYAHAHA!”

Red sighs and continues stirring the sauce. He might not like what his brother plans, but if it makes Classic happy, he’ll do it.

Classic stares at his phone, anxiously waiting for Red’s reply. The screen shows the “read at” receipt, yet no typing bubbles. Sighing, the skeleton tosses his phone on the ground and flops on his filthy bed, A few seconds later, he sits up again, grabs his phone, and checks for any new messages. Still nothing.

It’s alright. Maybe he’s busy or something, or got caught up in something else. It doesn’t mean that Red is ignoring him or anything like that, despite the obvious signs.

...

Maybe Classic should distract himself. He unzips his backpack, slides into his desk, and voluntarily does homework for the first time in his life.

Friday rolls around and Red is still avoiding Sans. He also hasn’t replied to Classic’s messages. At this point, he’s convinced that this whole thing was just a prank to mess with him, and that he’s only kidding himself in thinking that Red would actually go out with him. He should’ve known better than to get his hopes up. Slamming his locker in frustration and earning dirty glares from the students nearby, he walks off to his next class, definitely not thinking about strangling a certain attractive skeleton monster.

When he gets home, Classic throws off his socks, tosses his bag, discards his shirt and flops onto the couch, stretching his short limbs. He glances over at his phone, and sighs, checking it one last time for any new messages, yet still none. He didn’t know what he was hoping for to be honest. He flips on the tv and dozes off into a nap.

“CLASSIC!”

The short skeleton cracks one eye open, and rubs the sleep out of his eye socket.

“yeah bro?”

“DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS?!”

“uhh,” he checks his phone, “6:45?”

“EXACTLY! SO WHY AREN’T YOU EVEN DRESSED YET?!!!!!”

“dressed for what?”

“DON’T PLAY GAMES WITH ME, BROTHER. YOU KNOW EXACTLY FOR WHAT! YOU’VE BEEN DREAMING ABOUT RED FOR AGES AND YOU CAN’T EVEN GET YOURSELF DRESSED FOR A DATE???”

Classic sinks further into the couch, pulling blanket over him for comfort. He doesn’t meet his brother’s eyes, “that was...that was a mistake. there is no date, it was just a joke all along,”

“WHAT?!” Papaya takes a seat next to his brother and rubs his legs, a habit that he’s been doing to soothe the elder brother since they were kids, “DID SOMETHING HAPPEN?”

“no, nothing happened,” Classic shrugs, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice, “he avoided me all week, and didn’t even respond to my message. don’t worry about it, paps. i think i’m just gonna head to bed early.”

“NO YOU ARE NOT!” the other skeleton’s eye sockets blaze slightly, “I’M SURE THERE’S BEEN A MISUNDERSTANDING, LET ME JUST, I UH, I’M GOING TO  MAKE A PHONE CALL!”

Classic raises a bone brow as his brother leaps into the air, and sprints off into his room, slamming the door behind him. He could hear his brother’s loud voice, but couldn’t make out the words, and a few moments later Papaya exits his bedroom and runs into Classic’s. Alarmed, Classic immediately rushes to his room, finding his brother tossing clothes from his closet.

“bro what are you doing?!

“I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM BEING A GOOD BROTHER AND HELPING YOU GET DRESSED! YOU DON’T HAVE ANYTHING GOOD IN HERE EXCEPT WHITE SHIRTS AND BLUE JACKETS! A FASHION ABOMINATION!”

Classic sighs, and rubs his temples, “paps, i appreciate it, but i told you. there isn’t going to be a date. there’s no point.”

“AND WHAT IF YOU’RE WRONG? WHAT IF RED KNOCKS ON OUR DOOR IN TEN MINUTES AND YOU’RE NOT DRESSED? ARE YOU GOING TO TELL HIM THAT YOU DOUBTED HIM? HOW DO YOU THINK HE’S GOING TO FEEL?”

Classic doesn’t answer.

“I UNDERSTAND THAT YOU’RE HURT BROTHER, BUT GIVE HIM ONE LAST CHANCE! AND IF YOU’RE RIGHT, YOU CAN CHANGE BACK INTO YOUR UNDERWEAR, AND I’LL PUT ON A MOVIE FOR US TO WATCH TOGETHER TONIGHT INSTEAD!”

“heh...can’t argue with that bro. you’re so smart.”  

“NYEHEHE! OF COURSE I AM! NOW, PUT THIS ON! YOU’RE GOING TO LOOK AMAZING!”

Red tugs on his collar, sweat beating down his skull and staining his white button up shirt. His black slacks make him feel extremely stiff and the tie wrapped around his neck chokes him and it’s hard to breathe, but if Edge says that Classic will like this for whatever reason, then Red will bear through it. Gathering all of his courage, he coughs, then knocks on the door.

Papaya answers a second later, his eyes lighting up with glee.

“BROTHER!!! RED IS HERE!” he turns to Red, “TAKE CARE OF HIM OKAY? AND MAKE SURE THAT HE DOESN’T FALL ASLEEP DURING THE MOVIE!”

“uhh...okay?”

Classic appears at the door a minute later, his hands held behind his back, his gaze lowered, as a blue blush spreads across his face. Red’s eyes widen, his own face heating up, and his soul pounding in his chest. He definitely was not prepared for how cute Classic looks. A faded yellow turtleneck sweater hugs his body with his regular blue jacket wrapped around his waist and he sports a short pink skirt that flares out almost like a tutu.

Red is left speechless like an idiot, mouth agape and floundering for words to say.

“you actually came.”

Red gets knocked back to his senses, and tilts his head in slight confusion, “of course i came, why wouldn’t i?”

Classic’s eye lights flash with something that Red couldn’t recognize, but he brushes it off. Extending his hand, he remembers what Edge told him to say and forces it through his mouth.

“a-are you ready to go, m’lord?” Red extends his elbow out for Classic to wrap around.

The other skeleton visibly cringes and Red mentally hits himself for delivering it so badly, but Classic regains his composure, gives him a nervous smile, and takes his arm. Red leads him to Edge’s car that he borrowed ( “IT’S NOT GENTLEMEN-LIKE TO PICK SOMEONE UP ON A MOTORCYCLE!”) and speeds off to the restaurant that Edge also recommended.  An awkward silence passes between the two of them during the car ride, neither of them saying anything. Classic stares out the window at the passing cars and houses, making it difficult for Red to read his expression, so he decides to try and make small talk.

“so...nice weather we’re having...”

“huh? yeah i guess so. it’s nice and cool.”

“yeah...”

Nothing else was said during the rest of the ride. Red pulls up to a fancy looking diner with water fountains springing from the entrance and a valet parks the car for them. Classic’s eyes widen from the golden grandeur and he starts to back away slowly.

“hey, class, what’s wrong?”

“no, i, i can’t afford this place red, it’s too expensive, can we go somewhere else?”

Edge’s advice echoes in his mind, “WHATEVER HAPPENS, STICK TO THE PLAN!”

“i know it looks expensive, but it’s not that bad! i’ve eaten here many times!” Red lies, “besides, you don’t have to worry, i’ll pay for everything.”

“i don’t know red, i can’t possibly make you pay-”

“hey i got this! i’m the one that asked you out, or technically my brother did it for me, so i’ll take care of it!”

Classic flinches at the tone, his eyelights not meeting Red’s. He keeps his head down, but gives a small nod anyway. The two of them enter and are greeted by a snobbish waiter, who leads them to their seat and dismissively hands them their menus. Red’s eyes widen as he glances over the price and the food options, nearly having a heart attack. He doesn’t know what half of this shit is! And 80g for something called an aiguillette?! He sneaks a glance at Classic, who also seems to be having a tough time deciding. In the end, they both got the cheapest option, something called a “salade cesar” which they both should’ve known was just a salad. Red hates salad, and from the way Classic is picking at his food and forcing himself to eat, he does too.

Fuck fuck, this was not going as great as he thought. Classic looks miserable, and it’s his fault. He did that to him. He eyes Classic’s hand on the table and almost reaches out to touch him, comfort him, but Edge’s voice rings loudly in his head.

“NO TOUCHING TIL THE SECOND DATE!”

Red balls up his fists and asks for the check. They can fill up on popcorn.

The two of them arrived to the movie on time, but when Red tells Classic that he already bought the tickets for the romance movie, he wasn’t sure if he saw disappointment in his expression. He nervously brushes it off, hoping that the movie wasn’t going to be that bad.

Classic seems to relax a bit once the movie starts, much to Red’s relief. All he ever wanted was for him to have a good time, and he knows that he royally screwed it up. The movie begins to play, and already, Red is bored. His mind wanders, and something presses against his arm. He flinches, looking at the source. Classic blinks at the reaction, looking a bit hurt since he just wanted to rest his head, and shifts away from Red. Red mutters an apology, but it isn’t worth much. He spends the rest of the movie beating himself up and keeping his head down.

“red? red!”

Red snorts himself awake, completely alarmed by his unfamiliar surroundings and Classic’s face in front of him.

“wha?”

“the movie ended.”

Red’s mind clears up and he remembers that he’s on a date with his crush...and he fell asleep. on a date. with his crush. God he’s such an idiot.

“oh...”

Red’s face burns with embarrassment and he wordlessly leads Classic back to the car and drives him back home. He leads the other skeleton to the door but before Classic enters, he turns to Red.

“well this was....a date.”

“yeah, yeah it was.”

“i guess i’ll see you on monday then. maybe.”

“yeah. see you then.”

Red turns around and makes his way to Edge’s car, but stops, balling up his fists. No. He’s not going to let the night end like this. He’s not going to let his last chance slip.

“classic, wait!”

The other skeleton stops half way inside, tilting his head in curiousity as Red runs back up to him.

“look, this date was a disaster, i’m not going to lie.”

“ya think?” Classic mumbles under his breath.

“the thing is, i really like you, and i screwed up. i took my brother’s advice on everything, and now i see i shouldn’t have-”

“why did you ignore me all week?” Classic interrupts, his eyelights flashing with anger.

“i...i was just too nervous to talk to you. i have the biggest crush on you and when you said you’d go out with me tonight, i didn’t know how to react,” Red plays with the hem of his shirt, “so i just ran away. i didn’t stop to think about how you might’ve felt. i’m sorry.”

“and my messages?”

“messages?”

“you didn’t respond to them.” Classic crosses his arms sternly.

“the jokes? of course i did, i laughed and said...” Red’s eyes widen as he fishes his phone out of his pocket and checks his messages, realizing that he didn’t respond, “fuck! i saw them, but i forgot to reply. i’m so sorry.”

Classic just looks at him sadly. Red knows he’s disappointed and he can’t blame him.

“i’m sorry. about tonight, about everything. but i mean what i said though. i really like you, and if you can give me a second chance-”

Classic cuts him off by grabbing his sleeve and pressing a kiss against Red’s cheek. He blushes furiously as all functions in his brain shuts down, then reboots to process what just happened. Classic’s eyelights twinkle with amusement and he giggles at the shock on Red’s face.

“i’d like that red. and maybe this time, without your brother’s intervention?”

Unable to speak, Red just nods his head.

“good. i’ll see you monday. good night.”

Classic quietly shuts the door behind him.

A wide grin slowly stretches across Red’s face. His soul is pounding and leaping and shaking all at once, and he laughs to himself, unable to contain his happiness. As he walks to the car, Red pumps a fist of victory into the air.