#but i want to ask anyone if their perspective on henry changes after seeing this? mine does tbh. i didn't expect a possible show of remorse | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stellocchia · 4 years ago

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There is one thing I sometimes mention in my rants about c!Dream’s and c!Tommy’s relationship that I never expanded on, which is c!Dream assiging c!Tommy an almost divine value, well, that changes now!

Turns out I just cannot write short and concise analysis it seems, so I put everything under the cut...

/rp

I’ve talked a few times before about how Dream in his mind gives Tommy added value (again, Tommy has value as a human being already, but Dream most definitely doesn’t see that), but I want to go a bit more in depth about it.

So, we know by now that Dream has been obsessing over Tommy for quite a while now, though it really worsened with the beginning of season 2.

It is important to note that, at that point, Tommy himself was back on the idea of there being a friendly rivalry between him and Dream for the disk that was still in Skeppy’s possession, nothing more then that. He most definitely didn’t hate Dream yet (although their relationship has always been complicated) and he shouldn’t have posed much of a threat to Dream, right?

We also all seem to recognise that Dream would not have let up until Tommy was exiled, but I haven’t seen many people discuss the WHY of it. Why was it so important to him? Did he just do it because he hated Tommy? Did he do it because he was bored and wanted chaos?

Well, I think it’s because Tommy DID pose a threat to Dream. He WAS a threat to Dream because Dream had seen him during Pogtopia. He had seen him rally the troops, he had seen him keep people’s morale high even after Wilbur detonated the tnt and Techno released the withers, he knew what Tommy could do if Dream threatened L’Manburg while he was there, even while not being president (I mean, he still managed to lead a revolution against Schlatt even while never being the official leader). And Dream wanted to get rid of L’Manburg because of what it represented, because L’Manburg represented freedom from him, freedom from his rules. L’Manburg was a HUGE problem, so he needed to take out what kept L’Manburg together and that was Tommy.

But that’s not the only thing. If Dream only wanted Tommy out of the way, he could have just let him unalive himself or he could have killed him himself and pretended it was an accident. Heck, he could even have pushed for an execution in the first place instead of the exile! But he didn’t... and later on, during the Season 2 Finale, he outright refused to kill Tommy even in self defence. So for Tommy to have so much importance that Dream needed to keep a constant eye on him in exile and keep him alive, Dream’s mentality of Tommy being sort of the “key” to power must have already been in place when he formulated the exile plan (perhaps it was there from before then, but we can’t know this for certain).

I mean, he also ordered a whole prison that could have been meant to hold Tommy from the start (it has been confirmed by Sam out of character that it was made with c!Tommy in mind and the only indication that it wasn’t comes from c!Dream in a converstaion with c!Tommy, which we really shouldn’t trust at all) and a curious thing to notice on that, if that was the case, is that the prison itself is called “Pandora’s Vault”, why calling it “vault”? A vault is something that’s supposed to hold valuable items. It’s supposedly a secure location where you hide away your most precious things. Why calling a prison that? Anyway... that was just an interesting tid-bit I’ve been thinking about.

Back on the main tangent now!

So, what does Dream think of Tommy exactly?

“Listen Tommy, since you joined the server, you’ve been a headache! Okay? You’ve brought war, you brought terrorism, you’ve brought bad everything! But! But! The cause of all the wars, of everything, was attachment, alright? Your attachment to the disks, your attachment to Henry, to pets, to friends, to land, to countries, to items, right? (...) That’s- That’s the one good thing that you’ve done. The one good thing you’ve done is that you brought attachment to the server. So it took me a LONG time to realize how important attachment was, but, when I did, you know? It made me stronger, and I realised that you- you’re- you’re important, right?”

This is a quote directly taken from the season finale. I know it’s a long one, but it’s seriously important. Because Dream, with this quote, just asserted that Tommy is the reason attachments exist at all, even if that isn’t true of course (the whole disk war was kickstarted by Ponk getting mad when Sapnap retaliated to his prank by burning down Ponk’s lemon tree because he was attached to it), but to Dream it is.

Tommy, a normal human teenager with no “main character powers” (you know, like being a life and death god, or silk-touch hands, or having the brains to create nukes or being able to bring yourself back to life out of spite, basically he has nothing normally considered “special”) is deemed the reason why people are able to care at all. THAT is the added value I’m talking about. Dream doesn’t see Tommy as Tommy, he never did, he sees him as his own idealized version of him. And in Dream’s mind Tommy has so much importnace that, without him, attachments would just stop existing. “How do we know that” you ask? Well, why else would Dream have been so adamant about needing Tommy ALIVE? He already did his thing if bringing attachments was all the value Dream assigned to him. Now attachments exist, surely Dream can get rid of Tommy, right? Well, no. Because, as I said, to Dream Tommy is the embodiment of attachments.

I mean, he admitted so in that quote, didn’t he? He starts by telling Tommy that HE is the cause of everything: of war, of terrorism, of everything. But then, then he says that those same things are caused by attachments. How can we have both be true at the same time? Easy, make Tommy the concept of attachment personified!

“If I can control the things people are attached to, then I can control the server again!”

All we said before kinda puts this more in perspective. THAT’S why Dream is in constant need of controlling Tommy. If Tommy is the embodiment of attachment in Dream’s mind, then he is the embodiment of control and power as well. Because, if controlling a singular attachment gives you control over one singular person, then controlling the embodiment of everyone’s attachments gives you control over the server right?

“Look, it’s not fair! But Tommy listen: I need you, okay? I need you to keep bringing attachemnt to the server, because without you people weren’t really attached to things, but then you came and you brought ‘friendship’ and ‘countries’ and ‘things’ people can be attached to, right? And you brought that! And you’re- you’re the KEY, right? You’re the key to unlock the full potential of the server and power and everything”

Can’t get much more obvious then this... Dream literally described Tommy as “the key to everything”, that’s A LOT of extra value put on a random 16 yo. It would be a lot of value for ANYONE to have. In case it wasn’t clear, what Dream is saying is that controlling Tommy basically makes you a God. And, if it wasn’t clear enough yet, let me grab a quote from Tommy’s 3rd canon death stream:

“Tommy your life is literally IN MY HANDS, does that piss you off? Does that make you mad? Does it make you soo mad that I- you can’t kill me... I MIGHT AS WELL BE A GOD TOMMY! You can’t kill me and I can kill you!”

So, here’s the thing: killing Tommy is not that hard. A LOT of people on the server are stronger then him, even with the same equipment. At the same time killing Dream IS very hard. He’s literally one of the 2 best pvp-ers on the server. So why would this situation make Dream a “God”? Well, that’s because, based on his own philosophy, having Control over Tommy is what makes someone a God (it’s what gives you power over everything after all) and he here is fully in control. Not only because phisycally he is the stronger one, but also because Tommy admitted himself that he can’t kill Dream (Dream may wrongly assume that that’s because Tommy still has some attachment to him, which gives him another layer of control, truth is he’s just not much for killing people, the kid got too much empathy), which means he’s in control of Tommy’s mind and emotions as well to a certain degree.

And here’s the thing: wouldn’t Tommy need to be somewhat godly himself to be the ONE THING that can grant people the ability to become a God? Dream, by now, has elevated Tommy to a point where Tommy himself might as well be God. That’s why Dream was so eager to become immortals together, to study the powers that make Dream now think even more that he is a God, together, because, in his mind, they’re already on the same level, albeit in a very skewed way (and I say a “skewed way” because Dream still doesn’t see Tommy as a person, he still sees him as a tool, only he is a tool that grants people godlyhood apparently).

My theory on why c!Dream has this kind of perception of c!Tommy is because Tommy is his only remaining attachment. Dream got rid of all his attachments in order to gain absolute power, so he has to somehow justify to himself why this one particular attachment still doesn’t make him weak. Why still hanging onto Tommy (albeit in the most scewed up way possible) actually makes him stronger. He needs Tommy to be something more then a random 16 yo he once picked a fight with.

@ladycatland pretty sure you’d be interested

#dreamwastaken #tommyinnit #dream smp #/rp #tw abuse #character analysis #my post #I could go on so many rants about them...#but this one has been swirling around in my brain for a while now #tl:dr local green blob is convinced that a random 16 yo is god #said 16 just really wants therapy...

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baby-n-boo · 4 years ago

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Pink is not a girl’s color- regressor! Tommy, finally big brother tubbo, cg! Wilbur

Tommy was little. There was no two ways to put it. And, as if it wasn’t obvious enough from the fact he hadn't sworn in a whole ten minutes, His thumb was inserted firmly in his mouth as he gamed one-handedly, a small piece of paper over each of the webcams on his monitors, in case someone saw. He had finished his stream that day in rather a hurry, logging off of the dream SMP almost as soon as the confirmation came through that the stream had ended, already feeling the pull of the headspace on his mind, and knowing he wouldn’t have been able to hide it from his friends should he have fully slipped. But, for now, he was idly wandering around a solo server he had made for himself, trying to remember where he had built his home last time he had been on the server. His chair creaked in protest, as he tried to bring his knees up to his chest, resting his feet on the very edge of the seat, making him jump. It wasn’t that he was easily scared when little, but the fact he had become accustomed to the silence that seemed to surround him when he was small, since nobody ever wanted to talk to him without being mean.

But it was ok. He could look after himself. He was a big boy, really! Mumbling to himself, around his thumb, he tried to direct his character over to the little hill he could see in the distance, not noticing the river running between himself and said mound, and promptly falling right in. At the sudden change of perspective, Tommy panicked, pulling his hand away from the keyboard like it had burnt him, in the hopes it would be fixed if he stopped. But it didn’t, leaving him arrested in fear, watching as the pretty bubbles went away, and his character started taking damage. He didn’t want the pretty red hearts to go away, they were nice!

Whining slightly as the last one slipped away, and the death message popped up on screen, shading everything in a dim sort of red, Tommy shoved the mouse away too in frustration, refusing to respawn. He wore a stubborn pout as he spun on his chair to turn his back on the screens, just in time for a knock to sound on his door. Worrying for a moment, he yanked his thumb out, and minimised the tab, not wanting anyone to see, before calling out a “Yeah?” that sounded too loud and brash to be right, even for his normal self.

Wilbur, poking his head through the door carefully, smiled to see Tommy not doing much, before starting to speak. “I, uh, I saw your stream ended? I was wondering if you wanted to come spend some time with real people now?” he joked, referencing how little time Tommy actually spent socialising. Despite how much he really really wanted to nod yes, and go with him, Tommy shook his head, carefully measuring his voice to reply. “Nah, you’re alright, I have masses of women to talk to.” he tried to joke back, his smile just a little too wide, the usual bravado missing from the tone, though Will shrugged it off, sure that if something was up, Tommy wouldn’t hesitate to complain about it.

“Well, if you change your mind, don’t forget, Toby and I ’re right downstairs.” He reminded Tommy, with a slightly stern look, before ducking back out the door frame. He tried to nod an affirmation, turning as if to go back to his game, but, as soon as he heard the door click back into place, and the creak of the stairs, he pushed up off his chair, padding over to his bed instead. He wasn’t big enough for gaming, right now, and certainly not to go face his friends. Don’t get him wrong, he was glad they had offered to come over and keep him company while his parents were away for some business trip or other, but it was hard to hide his little space from them when he knew they would be watching his streams, and constantly reminding him to actually care for himself. Especially since it had saved him the embarrassment of his parents hiring some babysitter that never actually did anything, once they found out how old he was.

Tummy rumbling as he sat down cross-legged amid the rumpled sheets, and pulled his favourite blanket out from under his pillow, Tommy whined, having run out of fruit snacks the previous night when he had been streaming till two in the morning. Normally, it wouldn’t be an issue, him just having to sneak down and grab something from the cupboards under the guise of still streaming, but he knew, as soon as he set foot on the stairs today, his friends would be dragging him into a switch game tournament, or a conversation, or, even worse, a trip to the store. Shuddering at the very thought of going outside, Tommy shook his head. No, going hungry was much better than whatever they had in store for him.

His PC kept chiming with discord messages, probably from his other streamer friends to wonder why he had ended so fast, but he merely ignored them, balling up under the ratty sky-blue blanket, and trying to get his head to stop being quite so fuzzy. It didn’t help as his thumb crept back into his mouth, brushing against the cold metal of his braces, and he curled tighter, the scratchy material of his jeans starting to irritate him, as he slipped further and further. It was only a matter of time before something bad happened, so, desperately clinging to the last shreds of his adult mind, Tommy stumbled over to his closet, kicking off his jeans and baseball shirt in a frenzy of unstable movement.

Once he was sure that it was all off, he glanced nervously toward the door, and quickly grabbed a bundle of material, throwing it onto the bed before someone could burst in and see it. Yanking a pair of shorts over his boxers, he quickly scurried back to the comfy area, hiding between the sheets as he fought his way into the other thing, a hoodie that was clearly multiple sizes too big, smelling of a foreign but comforting cologne. He’d picked it up from Wilbur’s bag the first night he had been here, thinking it had been his own, and had been reluctant to give it back upon discovering it, in fact, was not, something about how it made him feel small making it appealing.

Flipping up the hood, so it fell over his eyes, Tommy giggled, flapping around the oversized sleeves in a childish manner, entertained by even the slightest of things in little space. By this point, his adult mind had entirely slipped away, replaced with the simple, cotton candy thoughts of the child Tommy now was. Confused as to why he was being so boring and lying round in bed all day, he pushed back his coverings with a smile, before gasping, looking around for Henry - his cow plush- in between the all-together too mature sheets. Black circles were just so grown up! Where were the dinosaurs? Or the racing cars!

Temporarily distracted from his search by the thought of cars, Tommy gasped, running over to his cupboard, where he hid away all his colouring books, dragging out some nice-looking ones, and his big box of Crayola pens, giggling as they rattled noisily. Throwing them to the floor, Tommy lay down on his tummy across his rug, pushing up the too-long sleeves until he could see hs fingers. Wiggling them around, he couldn’t help but beam, it being such a silly movement, especially as they all bunched up to try picking up the slippery box of pens, only for it to bump back down. Kicking contentedly as he tried again, it wasn’t long before it was tipped upside down, the rainbow of colors spreading across the rug in a mess only a child could make, blues bouncing and reds rolling. In fact, every color other than pink.

Not that Tommy noticed this lack, grabbing up his favourite colour, and flipping to a random page, cheering as it was a cool race car, with flames up the sides, all waiting to be coloured. Uncapping the pen with his teeth, he kept the lid in, chewing on the tip of it as he scribbled messily up and down the door of the car, smiling as it got bluer and bluer the more that he scribbled. Even if it didn’t particularly stay in the lines. Blue was nice, it was a boy’s color, like the sky, and the sea, and blue race cars that go nyoom! Will once said blue was a happy color, so that must mean it was good! Why else would he say it?

It wasn’t like pink. Bleh, pink is a girl’s color, why would he want /that/? Pink was all flowers and dresses and bubblegum, blehhhh. Pulling a disgusted face, sticking his tongue out, which, in turn, made the lid fall out, Tommy shook his head. No, pink was most definitely not for a big boy like him. In his daydreaming, he hadn't heard the stairs creak, nor the tentative knock on the door, not realising as Tubbo crept into the room. “Hey, Tommy? Wilbur said we could ord- oh.” he started, before noticing his friend on the floor, surrounded by coloring pens. Tommy, spinning round at the familiar voice, smiled to see Tubbo, waving gently with his uncapped pen, but making no effort to get up, instead turning back to his coloring once he was done. “Well, I was gunna ask what pizza you wanted, but it’s ok, I'll just say pepperoni. Have fun with … what you’re doing.” Tubbo murmured, not wanting to disturb Tommy when he seemed so concentrated, instead shutting the door behind himself, and heading back down the stairs to where Wilbur was waiting on the sofa.

“Hey. What’d he say?” Will greeted, his laptop open to some takeout website, smiling gently as Tubbo relayed the information for pepperoni, before placing the order quickly. “Alright, that’s done, is he coming down?” he asked, shutting his laptop once he was done, just as Tubbo settled back in the armchair and picked up his switch. “Nah, he’s little.” he spoke simply, as if it was common knowledge, reopening his animal crossing island to keep fishing, like he had been. Confused, Wilbur tilted his head, brushing aside his hair as it flopped over his eyes, and let out a quiet “Huh?”, making Tubbo look up, and meet his eyes. “What do you mean little?” he asked, curiously, not understanding as the teen clammed up, looking mortified. “I shouldn’t have said that. I should /not/ have said that.” He muttered, hiding his red face behind the console. “It’s not my place to say.” he tried to wriggle out of the situation, but, with a stern look from Wilbur, he was pinned in place.

“um...wow, how to put it...” he fidgeted in place, trying to find the words to explain to a rapidly more and more concerned WIlbur. “um...he’s thinking like a kid...not Tommy?” he tried, but, from the blank look he got back, he knew that wasn’t enough. “It’s...It’s like a response to stress? Or...or just cuz...?” he tried again, watching as Will nodded slowly. “Um...he’s coloring right now...i don’t think he wants to be bothered?” he interrupted, as Will stood, to go up the stairs. “I could...i could try to find a website to explain to you, if you wanted? I'm... I'm not too good at this.” Tubbo offered, reaching for his laptop, silently relieved as Wilbur sat back down.

“That would be nice, actually, I'm lost.” He admitted, handing it over, and watching as Tubbo struggled to type out whatever he was trying to, eventually finding a page that seemed right. “Uh, it’s a Tumblr page but...i think it’s got the stuff on...” he mumbled, passing the brightly coloured page back over to him. Credit to him, as Tubbo watched on nervously, Will didn’t seem disgusted, reading with genuine intellectual curiosity, before sitting back. “Woah, okay. That’s intense.” He commented, letting out a deep exhale, and rubbing his eyes. “Why is he little, did you say?” he asked, but Tubbo froze. “I’m...i’m actually not sure. Tommy does it both ways, on purpose and not. Maybe the lore stream today? He did end quickly...” he commented mostly to himself, then rubbing his upper arm. “He normally comes and DMs me after if it’s been a hard stream though... maybe cuz you’re here, he didn’t want to talk about it?”

Throwing out theories, Tubbo tried to hide his confusion and slight hurt that the little he liked to think of as his baby brother when he was in headspace, hadn't told him, chewing on his nails a little. “I do know he calls you his brother though...maybe he was shy in case you didn’t like him doing it?” he murmured, eyes flicking up to the bespectacled 24 year old watching with rapt attention. Luckily, he looked amused, adjusting his beanie. “Hey, it wouldn’t be the only time, I'm practically his older brother all the time.” He chuckled, casting an eye over the page still up on his screen. “It says here about something called...CGs?” he sounded tentative as he looked up to Tubbo again. “It does, and before you ask, No, he doesn’t have one. And yes, he really should, the chaotic doesn’t go down.” he replied, feeling a lot more comfortable now they could make fun of his friend again.

“Should...should we head upstairs, go make sure he doesn’t like...set fire to something?” Will suggested, after a few moments of chuckling, right before a loud thump interrupted Tubbo’s beginning complaint. “Ok, Ok , maybe that’s a good idea.” he smiled, putting his switch to the side before standing. “I’ll go warn him.” He held out a hand to stop Will mounting the steps before him, smiling as he feigned offense. “Trust me, you wanna prepare for this, he might still be Tommy, but he’s... different.” Running up the stairs, best as he could, with the nerves he now had in every vein, he quickly pushed open the door, to see the little tugging at a stuffed animal wedge in a cardboard box. Carefully pulli ng it out, he easily identified it as Henry, pushing it into Tommy’s arms with a smile. “I have a surprise for you, Toms, you ready?” he asked, keeping his voice gentle as Tommy nodded enthusiastically. “Awe, good!”

Awkward, shuffling footsteps were the only indicator Will was coming in, before he rounded the corner, with a small smile. “H-Hi Tommy.” his arms were held awkwardly in front of him, crossed across his chest like he didn’t know how to react. But it wasn’t too much of an issue, since, as soon as he saw Wilbur, Tommy jumped to his feet, running to him. “Wilby!” he cheered, hugging him tightly. “Missed chu!” he grinned, as Will hesitantly pet his hair. “Uh, hey kid, whatchu up to?” he asked, as Tubbo watched on with a soft smile, perching on the bed. “I heard you were coloring?” he asked, looking to the teen for confirmation, as he nodded enthusiastically again, and dropped to his knees, grabbing his pens to keep going.

“Yeah! Iz blu!” he smiled, thrusting a cyan pen to the elder one. Carefully sitting down between him and the wall, Wilbur smiled and nodded. “You’re right, it is blue. Do you like blue?” Clearly that was the right question, since Tommy started speaking, so fast they could barely get a word in edgewise, about the color, kicking his legs happily as he started to scribble again, starting to color in the fire on the side of the car now, under the watchful eye of his friends.

Furrowing his brow slightly at the missing color, Will spoke up, after some small humming being the only thing to break the silence. “Hey, Toms, where’s your pink?” he wondered aloud, jumping slightly as Tommy shouted a “No!”, rather vehement. “No,no, no! Pink for /girls/.” he mumbled, when Will shushed him. Curious, he tilted his head, his hair falling agin, and ‘hmm’d slightly. “Pink isnt a girl’s color, Tommy, what makes you think that?” he didn’t understand, not even as Tommy sent him a disbelieving face. “Pink...pink for princess” he struggled to explain, making Tubbo nod quietly from where he sat. “But, I like pink, Toms, am I a princess?” he chimed in, taken aback as Tommy giggled, and nodded. “P’incess tubby!” he smiled, making Wilbur chuckle and nod. “That’s right, kid, Toby’s a princess now.” watching the teen stand and mockingly spin around, before carefully bopping Tommy’s head, like a fairy. “ding, ding, Tommy is now a kid!” he laughed, moving over to the cupboard that usually housed the colouring, pulling out a shameful looking pink tub, and placing it on the floor beside the kid. “Let’s try these ones too, huh?” Will prompted, picking up a pastel pink, and doodling a small flower in the corner.

Tommy nodded, gently, slipping a little, pink pacifier into his mouth when nobody was looking, and hesitantly choosing a maroon pen, trying a clumsy smiley face, soon joined by tubbo doodling a bee, of course. Laughing, Will tried another flower, and a heart, wanting to keep what he did simple, making Tommy smile as a little of the ink went over his fingers. Catching the pen before he tried to draw on his own face, Will tutted gently at Tommy, his new little friend. His little...brother? Before they realised it, the scribbly car had been overshadowed by their doodles, Tommy having branched out into pink the more his friends didn’t seem to mind it being there, slowly smiling more and more, until he was giggling loud and free, fully convinced now, that Pink was, in fact, not a girl’s color.

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eyesaremosaics · 3 years ago

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Lately I have had zero tolerance for bullshit. Perhaps I have been hardened in the last two years. My interest is in the truth, always has been. I am open to whatever that may be, provided that it is proven beyond a reasonable doubt.

When I was 17, my philosophy teacher showed us the 1957 film, “12 angry men”. If you haven’t seen it, the premise is essentially: Following the closing arguments in a murder trial, the 12 members of the jury must deliberate, with a guilty verdict meaning death for the accused, an inner-city teen. As the dozen men try to reach a unanimous decision while sequestered in a room, one juror (Henry Fonda) casts considerable doubt on elements of the case. Personal issues soon rise to the surface, and conflict threatens to derail the delicate process that will decide one boy's fate.

Initially you believe the boy is guilty as sin, and by the end of the film (after going through all the evidence) your perspective flips completely. I highly recommend you all watch it. This film always stuck with me. As a libra who prizes justice, I feel we have a responsibility as a just society to have all the information before coming to a decision about a persons innocence or guilt. There are many innocent people in prison, and a lot of sociopathic manipulators out there wreaking their havoc on others. I can’t in good conscience, condemn a person based on sensationalized claims—particularly when they are “trending”.

Condemnation needs to come from facts proven beyond a reasonable doubt. Frankly it alarms me how little I see most people investigating a given situation before taking a stance on it. Blindly following “trends” is herd mentality… and I would like to believe we are all more educated than that. Any free thinking, independent person would make sure they had all the information before making a snap judgment. Just saying.

If there is one thing my partner has taught me—it’s to always do your research. Check your sources. If you don’t have the answer, ask questions. If you have a strong opinion, that’s fine, but give a convincing argument. Have all the facts. I used to sort of do everything half assed, he has taught me to be very thorough.

With all the conflict going on in the world, and so many different points of view, it’s making me reconsider the relativity of truth. The old philosophical argument that there are no fundamental truths, and that the truth is relative to perspective.

Over intellectualizing everything has been my way of detaching lately. Reality has become semi unbearable. Our precarious living situation is only growing more dangerous. I don’t have the energy to detail anymore than that. Suffice to say we are being forced out of our home, and finding a new place is proving to be challenging. However, I am determined to remain in good spirits.

Missing being creative immensely. Making art, acting, writing… all these things bring me joy, and yet I prioritize them so little. It made me realize today that my workaholism has consumed my life, at this point I’m not living for myself but for others. I accept full responsibility for not dining much to change that. The pandemic made me complacent. Has anyone else been feeling that way?

This is my attempt to tackle said writers block. When you start making art, it’s not good, it’s just pretending to be good. However, your good taste is on point, and that is why the criticism of oneself is sort of important. How else will you be forced outside your comfort zone to grow as an artist? To be more. One is always layering meaning and technique into one’s art.

I just… I want “me” back again. I’m tired of shades and shadows. Tired of false news, trends, influencers, the vapidness of it all. It’s weird how internet dynamics influence public opinion so much, and I fear the power of propaganda.

Is it so wrong to want people to make educated guesses based on factual information? I feel like so many people just jump on different band wagons just for the sake of it. It takes on a creepy little life of its own. Everything is super “raw” and hostile. It’s like we are all burn victims touching one another, lighting up each other’s stuff. It’s hard to know what to believe anymore.

These mental gymnastics are too exhausting for me. Basically—I don’t think that shit is cute, and I miss being more creative. My goal is to work on that this year. Find a healthy balance.

#me #stream of conscious writing

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obeyme-kaidii-writes · 4 years ago

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Love

ace!Leviathan x ace gn!MC

Words - 2503

Content warnings - asexual characters, some internalized acephobia, lots of love and comfort

Prompt/inspiration - a gift for a reader on AO3 ☺️

Summary - You head to Levi’s room to check on him after not hearing from him all day, only to find him crying alone. After talking with him, you both learn something special about one another.

AO3

You were standing outside of Levi’s door debating whether or not to knock. Usually he was the one calling and texting you, inviting you to join him to play games, or watch anime, or just to hang out together in his room. But today, he had been quiet. Something that hadn’t happened since your early days in the Devildom.

To make matters worse, he was leaving all your messages on read, so you weren’t sure if he was mad at you or just too busy to respond. And you couldn’t think of anything that he had been looking forward to recently that would leave him so occupied. While you were contemplating your options, you pressed your ear to his door to see if you could hear any sounds from inside that might give you a clue as to what he was doing. That’s when you heard the unmistakable sounds of your favorite otaku sniffling and choking back sobs.

“Levi?”, you called out to him, opening his door without waiting for a response.

“Hmm?! Yeah?!” Levi startled, roughly scrubbing at his face to rid himself of his tears and trying to make himself look at least a bit like he hadn’t spent the better part of the day sitting in his room feeling sorry for himself.

“Hey, Levi, what’s wrong?” you asked him gently, as you sat down next to him by his aquarium, facing the opposite direction so you could see him better. He had his knees drawn up to his chest, and by now had given up trying to dry his tears and instead just hid his face in his arms.

When Levi didn’t respond, you simply wrapped your arms around his head and shoulders and held him, running your fingers through his hair. He stiffened for a moment, unsure if he really wanted you so close right now, but soon he had released his hold on his own legs, opting instead to wrap his arms around your middle, practically pulling himself into your lap in the process. And as soon as his face was hidden in the fabric of your shirt, he started crying once more.

All you could do for Levi was hold him, gently rubbing his back and combing his hair with your other hand. You had never seen him so upset before. Is this why he was hiding in his room all day?

“It’s ok Levi, it’s ok.”

But it was definitely not ok. At least not from Levi’s perspective. This had officially been the worst day ever, and there was exactly zero possibility of it getting better. He had stayed up late the night before, crafting the most eloquent love letter he had ever written (well, the only love letter he had ever written), determined to give it to you today to tell you how he felt. And just as he was about to slip it under your door, he stopped dead in his tracks, watching as you smiled and laughed with his brothers on your way to breakfast.

Oh. That’s right. How had he forgotten?

Levi wasn’t stupid, he could tell how smitten his brothers were with you. It was obvious to anyone with eyes, and especially obvious to him who had known them for so long. They had all changed in subtle ways, becoming kinder, softer, more loving, since you had come along. And he had changed too. He knew that. He wrote a love letter for goodness sake. He never would have imagined he would be doing that for anyone that wasn’t 2D.

Still, there was one striking difference between himself and his brothers that he knew from all his anime and manga and dating sims was an essential part of any healthy relationship, and it wasn’t something he could give you. At least, not how he knew it was supposed to be. He loved you more than anything, he had no doubt in his mind about that. He even thought sometimes that you loved him too, with the way you would smile at him or gently hold his hand when he got anxious. But that didn’t make any difference did it? Love alone wouldn’t change things.

That didn’t stop him from clinging to you though, sobbing into your shirt and wishing you could just know how he felt and that he didn’t have to put it into words or explain. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, you felt the same, even though he knew that was impossible. But he could still dream couldn’t he? Dreams were all he had left now.

After a while, Levi’s breathing started to calm and he was able to focus on the sound of your heartbeat. He loved that sound. More times than he’d care to admit, he had gotten distracted just listening to it while you cuddled with him and watched a show together. Sometimes even falling asleep. You had never said anything to him about it before, but the way you held him to you now made him think that perhaps you knew and wanted to make sure he could hear it.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, trying to sit up, but you didn’t let him go and he didn’t fight you. He only snuggled closer to you, which made you smile as you hugged him tight.

“It’s ok, Levi. You don’t need to apologize,” you felt him nod against your chest, and you pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“I was worried about you today. I tried calling you and texting you all day at RAD,” you paused before continuing, “Can you tell me what happened?”

He didn’t answer right away, and you felt his arms tighten around you.

“It’s ok, take your time. I just want to help,” you soothed, continuing to rub his back as you held him, patiently waiting for him to open up.

“...do you like any of my brothers?”

“Uh, huh? I mean, they're all important to me, if that’s what you’re asking. But where’s this coming from?”

“No, I mean like like them. You know,” he mumbled into your chest.

“Like do I have a crush on them?”

“...yeah,” he replied, meekly.

“Well, no, I can’t say I do. But seriously, where is this coming from?”

Levi didn’t want to answer. He was bad at this stuff. It’s why he wrote the letter in the first place. His thoughts and feelings would just get so jumbled up whenever he tried to talk about these things out loud. He tightened his fist around the letter that he was still holding, crumpled up in his hand. Maybe if he could just give it to you, you would understand?

This time when he tried to sit up and pull away from you, you let him, studying his face closely as he did his best to hide behind his bangs. When you noticed the wad of paper he was holding out to you, you took it from him and carefully unfolded it.

“What’s this?” you asked, and when he still didn’t answer, you started to read.

Dear Henry,

I bet this is weird, getting a letter from me right? I hope you don’t mind. I thought about talking to you, but every time I tried I forgot what to say so I thought writing would be easier.

I’m really glad that you were chosen for the exchange program, and that I got to know you. I’ve never had a best friend before. And you’re the best friend I could ever imagine. I know I’m just...well, me...but I hope I’m able to be at least half as good of a friend to you.

I love you.

xoxo,

Lord of Shadow

aka

Leviathan

You had to read over the letter a couple times just to make sure it was real and you weren’t imagining the whole thing. Levi loved you? But why was he so upset? And what was with all the weird questions about his brothers? As much as you wanted to leap for joy after finally receiving his confession, you were also deeply confused.

“Levi, I’m not sure I understand,” you asked, raising your head to look at him again. Levi was curled up on himself once more, hugging his knees tightly to his chest and keeping his face from view.

“What is there to understand? It’s exactly what it looks like.”

“Then why are you so sad?” you scooted closer to him so that your legs were touching again, and tenderly stroked his head, “Did you think I’d reject you?”

“That’s what you’re going to do isn’t it?” he said, sniffling and pulling his legs even closer.

“No, Levi. Of course not. I love you too.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Why would you think that?” your arms were now wrapped around his shoulders again, your cheek resting on top of his head. You had to admit that it stung hearing him reject your own confession, but it only strengthened your resolve to get answers.

“I’m not like my brothers.”

“I know, that’s why I’m here with you and not them.”

“I wouldn’t be a good boyfriend.”

“I’d like to be the judge of that.”

“But it’s true. I can’t...you know...do the thing.”

“The thing?”

“Yeah the thing.”

“I don’t know what that is, Levi.”

“THE thing. The thing only couples do,” he was getting a bit frustrated now. Were you really going to make him say it?

“Levi...do you mean sex?” you raised your head to try to catch a glimpse of Levi’s face, but all you could see were the tips of his (very red) ears as he turned his head more to the side and buried it further in his arms.

“...yeah.”

“Hey, that’s ok. You don’t need to,” you said, wrapping your arms back around him, hugging him tightly.

“Of course you need to. That’s what couples do,” Levi couldn’t conceal the waiver in his voice as his eyes started to well with tears once again.

“And where did you hear that?”

“I dunno. Everywhere. It’s how it is, isn’t it? You fall in love, you kiss, you...you know...and that’s how you know you’re a couple.”

“Levi,” you chuckled softly, “this isn’t a shojo manga or a dating sim. There are plenty of people in relationships that don’t have sex.” You pressed another kiss to the top of his head as you started to run your fingers through his hair like you had been earlier.

The truth was, this was the exact conversation you had been fearing and why you had avoided admitting to your own feelings for so long. You had been in relationships before, and some of them ended quite badly after you had explained your sexual preferences, or lack thereof you could say. The last thing you wanted was to have Levi reject you, but even more than that, you didn’t want him to think that there was something wrong with him that made you not want to have that sort of a relationship.

Learning that he felt the same way, and struggled with the same fears, was a huge relief to you, lifting a weight you hadn’t even been aware you had been carrying from your shoulders.

“There are plenty of ways to be intimate, to feel connected, that don’t involve sex. And I think we have a pretty good connection already, don’t you?”

You heard Levi sniffle, before he cautiously raised his head to look at you. He was surprised to see the understanding in your eyes, as well as the soft smile that spread across your lips. He hadn’t thought it possible to love you anymore than he already did, but here he was, heart threatening to beat out of his chest, while you looked at him like he was the most precious person in the entire world. When his tears started to fall again, you were quick to pull him back into a hug, and this time he wrapped his arms around you and buried his face into the crook of your neck.

“I love you, Levi. So much. So so so much,” you whispered to him, “Do you want to know a secret?”

Levi nodded against your neck, still too emotional to verbally respond.

“I feel the same way as you. I don’t want that sort of relationship either.”

He tightened his grip around you, soaking up all your words and reassurances. Did you really feel the same way as him? Is that why you understood him so well? Because you wanted the same things? Is that why he always felt so at ease around you? Because you never asked of him more than he was able to give?

“We can do things our own way, you know? That’s for us to decide. Doesn’t matter what anyone else does.”

“Really? I can just hug you and watch anime with you and stuff and you’ll be happy?”

“Yeah. I’ll be happy. I am happy. You’re my best friend, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Then that’s all I need. My best friend.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, hugging and cuddling one another, the occasional giggle being exchanged as the smile started to return to Levi’s face.

“Hey, you think we could go cuddle in the bean bag? We could put on an anime or something if you want. My back is just getting kinda sore sitting on the floor like this,” you asked, straightening up and stretching out your neck. Levi was quick to agree and help you up off the floor, leading you by the hand to his oversized bean bag chair.

“Umm...do you think we could...just cuddle?” he gave your hand a small squeeze, blushing at having asked such a direct question.

“Yeah, we can do that,” you replied, taking a seat and tugging Levi down to join you, causing him to tumble into your lap.

“Ah! S-sorry…!” he scrambled to get off of you, but you only laughed and adjusted your legs so that he was seated between them, perpendicular to you.

“It’s ok, you can stay,” you said with a smile, gently holding him in place with your hand on his hip. Levi’s blush deepened, but he nodded in agreement, quickly wrapping his arms around your middle and resting his head on your shoulder, with his forehead pressed against your neck.

As you began to scratch his back, he relaxed more fully against you, enjoying your warmth and the tenderness of your touch. He could feel his worries melting away. He felt so safe with you. So understood. Accepted. It didn’t matter what weird quirk he revealed to you, intentionally or otherwise, you always embraced it, often revealing one of your own to help put him at ease. It was like the two of you were made for each other. Soulmates, if such a thing existed. And his heart had never before felt so full.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too, Levi,” you replied.

#gn!mc #ace!mc #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me levi #levi x mc #obey me fanfic #obey me angst #obey me comfort #levi fanfic #levi angst #levi comfort

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sequinsmile-x · 3 years ago

Text

Riptide

A love story told from two perspectives. One after it is has ended, and the other just as it begins.

Chapter 1: The Beginning

Words: 3.8k

Rating: Mature. Major Character Death.

You can either read over on a03, or below the cut.

I would love to know what you think.

“I have loved with the breadth of the ocean, and lost with the grief of rainfall.” - Angie Weiland-Crosby ___________________

October 2025

His wake is in the house they shared together. People she both recognised and didn’t mill through their home, giving her and Jack their condolences as they passed by.

Emily’s grief felt oppressive, like she was drowning in it. Every breath she heaved in through her lungs burned in her chest. Hollowing out the place where his love used to live.

She had been through a lot in her life. Her childhood was snatched away from her at 15 in a small clinic in Rome. Ian Doyle had torn through her life twice, leaving disaster behind him both times. The ruins of her life his personal victory, even in his death.

But this, losing Aaron, was by far the worst thing she had experienced. Since the moment she was told he was dead she had struggled to comprehend it, only really believing it when she was taken to see his body. Emily felt numb. She knew she was pushing everyone away but she couldn’t help it. The solitude of her grief helped her just about cope enough to get up in the morning.

“Emily?”

She turns to see JJ standing at the door of Aaron’s home office, having clearly sought her out. Emily would place money on the fact the team was taking it in turns to check on her. Their own grief for Aaron outweighed by concern for her.

“I’m hiding from my mother.” Emily explains from where she is sitting on the couch. “She has no tact and I can’t cope with her today of all days.”

JJ sits next to her and places her hand on Emily’s. She runs a thumb over her knuckles. A gesture Emily thinks is supposed to be comforting, but she can barely feel it. The numbness she has felt the last couple of weeks ever present. Like she was watching life from behind glass, all of her senses muted and warped by grief.

“Em-”

“Don’t ask me if I’m ok. Or say anything kind.” She pulls her hand from under JJ’s and stands, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. Trying desperately to hold herself together, but feeling like she could fall apart any minute. “I don’t think I can take it.”

JJ stands too but keeps a good distance from her friend, respecting the boundaries Emily had put firmly in place the morning after everything changed. “He wouldn’t want this for you, he’d be worried.”

Emily scoffs, but tears fall onto her cheeks anyway. She furiously wipes them away with the heel of her hand. “I wish people would stop saying that.”

JJ’s face crumbles, barely restrained emotion on her own face. “He loved you Emily. You were going to-”

“JJ. I really don’t need you to explain my relationship to me.” Emily says harshly, bitter words falling past her lips to stop her from breaking down. She felt like she hadn’t stopped crying in days. “I have to go check on Jack.”

“Em-”

“He lost his father. The only parent he had left. He’s what’s important right now, everything else can wait.” She turns to leave, hand hovering over the door handle to lead her out of his office and she hesitates to turn back around to look at her friend. “I love Aaron, JJ.” The use of the present tense wasn’t lost on either of them. “More than I’ve ever loved anyone. And he’s gone. I’m never going to get him back and you need to let me deal with that in my way. Okay?”

She leaves the office before JJ can respond. She walks through the hallway of the house she and Aaron had bought together, a photo on the wall making her stop in her tracks. Penelope had taken it on a night out with the team not long after Emily and Aaron first got together. She had just been injured on a case, her shoulder still sore from where she’d been stabbed. Aaron was still fussing, not drinking so he could take her home whenever she was done. He had pulled her onto his lap, his broad chest protecting her shoulder from being jostled by anyone. Occasional whispers in her ear asking how she was slowly driving her crazy. Penelope snapped the photo as she turned her head to admonish him, a loving look on her face.

The squeal that came out of her friend after she took it still echoed around Emily’s head 4 years later. Penelope had passed her phone over, showing them the photo of them looking at each other like no one else existed.

She’s always loved that photo. She had sent it to her own phone immediately and had it printed. Now it made her heart clench in her chest, wishing she could see him again. Their home now felt like a museum of memories, their life together a snapshot in time that would never have been enough, even if they had grown old together. In the two weeks since he had died every part of her wanted to run, to get out and leave this all behind.

She stays despite everything in her screaming to leave. To get out of the house they shared, the city that reminded her of him at every turn. She wants to be somewhere he never had been, in the futile hope that she would one day be able to breathe without it being painful, without her lungs constricting like she was underwater.

She stays. She knows from experience that running away won’t fix anything, that she would just take memories of him anywhere she went. Carried on her skin like tattoos of his affection, etched permanently onto her. And in her worst moments, when having been loved by him felt more like a curse than the blessing it was when he was alive, she wishes she could hate him for it.

Jack is standing with Jessica in the living room. Emily is reminded of watching Aaron and Jack together at Haley’s funeral so many years ago. It was hard to believe that the little boy was now the young man in front of her, back in town from college and clearly wanting to be anywhere else.

He looks so much like Aaron that it steals her breath away.

“Jack.” She says gently as she approaches, a tight smile on her face. Both Jack and Jessica turn to look at her. “I’d ask how you are doing but that’s a stupid question.”

The 20 year old nods at her. “It’s weird. Knowing he’s gone forever.” Jack replies, clearing his throat. “It feels final now.”

Emily agrees, her fingers digging into the skin around her thumbnails. “Where are you staying tonight? You can stay here if you want. Your room is still set up.”

“I’m going to stay with Aunt Jessie.” He says tilting his head towards his aunt. “Thanks, though.” He adds as an afterthought. “Excuse me.” He walks off, having spotted Henry in the corner, and Emily sighs as he goes.

Her relationship with Jack had always been good, but since Aaron’s death it had been difficult. Tense in a way that tore through her. Their mutual love for Aaron was no longer the thing that was the foundation for Emily and Jack’s relationship.

It was that they both believed his death was her fault.

“Emily.” Jessica puts her hand on her arm and squeezes it. “He’ll come around. You know he doesn’t actually think-”

“Thanks, Jess.” She cuts the other woman off, not wanting to hear anything else. She walks off again, desperate for a moment alone.

JJ seeks her out again once most people have left. The team helps tidy up, removing all traces of the wake from her house before they leave. JJ has a plate of food in her hands that was clearly intended for Emily. She places it in front of her on the coffee table and sits next to her.

“I’m not hungry, JJ.”

“Em, please.” She says, worry laced through her voice. “You have to eat something. He wouldn’t-”

“JJ stop.” Emily shouts, finally at her wits end. “Aaron is dead. He’s dead. So it doesn’t really matter what he would want, does it?” She curses under her breath as tears spring to her eyes, and she wipes them furiously away from her cheeks as they fall. She’s aware of the rest of the team around them, stopping their individual tasks and desperately pretending they weren’t listening in.

“Emily-”

“Do you know what I keep thinking about?” She asks, interrupting any more platitudes JJ may have that she simply cannot bear to listen to, she watches as her friend shakes her head. “I keep thinking about when I died. There was nothing. It was dark, and empty. Just nothing.” Emily’s chin wobbles as she tries to keep the emotion in, failing as her next words choke out around a sob. “And I lay there at night, on his side of the bed, and hope it’s different for him.”

This time she doesn’t shy away from JJ’s touch, and allows herself to be pulled into a hug she cannot bring herself to return. ___________________________

Once everyone has gone she lays in bed, on his side, and stares at the ceiling. She is wearing one of his shirts and wonders when all of his clothes will stop smelling like him, when she will lose the last trace she has of him.

Emily closes her eyes, both wanting sleep to come and for it to evade her. Aaron was always in her dreams, mostly good ones. Memories of their lazy mornings in bed together played out during the night in her head. The sound of his laugh as he trailed his fingers down her spine to wake her slowly, his enjoyment at her inability to function first thing in the morning never ending.

The dreams were a blessing. A reminder that it had been real, that she’d had him. They were also a curse. She’d wake with the ghost of his touch on her skin, and for a blissful moment she’d forget he was dead. She’d half expect to see him standing at their bedroom door, coffee in hand with a smile on his face.

Then she would remember, and it was always too much to bear. ___________________________

It’s Dave that comes over. Letting himself into the house with the spare key Aaron had given him, claiming that he felt better knowing other people that they trusted had access to their home in case of an emergency. Emily knew it was a lingering fear he had from when Foyet had broken into his apartment, those memories still sharp in his mind until the day he had died.

A small knock on the bedroom door announces Dave’s arrival a mere second before he opens it. She doesn’t look at him, doesn’t tear her gaze from the dress hanging on the door of the closet. She's sitting on the floor, back pressed up against the side of the bed. Her knees are against her chest, her arms wrapped around them like she was physically holding herself together.

“Did you draw the short straw today, Dave?” She sniffs, wipes her hand across her face to wipe off what felt like ever present tears. “You guys don’t need to check up on me. I’m fine.”

Dave sighs and sits next to her, groaning as he joins her on the floor, his body protesting the movement. “You’re not fine, bella.” He says simply. “And the others don’t know I’m here.”

She can sense his want to help her, sees his fingers twitch out of the corner of her eye as he seemingly tries to figure out if she wants to be touched or not. In the end he settles for leaning against the bed with her, a distance between them just small enough that she can feel his presence. Emily leans her chin on her knees, eyes still fixed on the white dress infront of her.

The dress that, if things had been different, if she hadn’t lost him, she should have worn today. She remembers teasing Aaron about it, telling him just enough about how it fastened up her back, how careful he’d have to be when he took it off to not break any of the delicate buttons.

She fiddles with her engagement ring before she opens her clenched fist to reveal two matching wedding bands in the palm of her hand. The rings they would never get to wear.

“It’s meant to be my wedding day, Dave.” She says, voice breaking around the words that didn’t need to be said. “And he’s not here, he never will be.” ___________________________

June 2021

When Aaron first moves back to Virginia it feels strange, like he was stepping back in time. The first thing he thought of was the team, of her. Once he no longer had to hide his identity he could have reached out. He almost had more than once, this thumb hovering over Emily’s name in his contacts, but he always stopped himself. Unsure what to say, thinking whatever they could have been had passed them by in a flurry of tragic circumstance and bad timing.

He’s back for two weeks when he sees her, and she’s somehow more beautiful than ever. He calls her the next day. ___________________________

Emily shouts at him. A lot. Years of pent up anger and worry spilling out over the phone when she answers, mixed with curse words and sighs in a way that was just so *her* it makes him laugh.

“And what is so fucking funny, Aaron?”

He clears his throat, tries to smother another laugh but doesn’t quite manage it. “Nothing, Emily. I just...I missed you.”

“Well.” She replies. “Whose fault is that.” There’s a pause, and it is just long enough that he thinks she’s going to hang up, leaving their interaction there. Aaron is about to speak and give her an excuse when he hears her sigh. “I missed you too.”

A spark of hope flares in his chest, something he hasn’t felt in a long time. “How about I take you to dinner? My treat. You can yell at me in person.”

Emily laughs at that, and he can picture how her eyes would crinkle with it. She was always so damn beautiful when she smiled. “That does sound appealing.”

“Tomorrow? If you don’t get caught with a case?”

She pauses, and he would bet his life savings if he could see her that she was biting her lip. “Tomorrow.” ___________________________

When she doesn’t get a case, and confirms that she will meet him at the restaurant he suggested, Aaron tries not to overthink it. He tries not to get carried away and think that this could be their chance, that the universe was finally aligning for them.

Emily tells him about her relationship with Andrew, how it had come to an end. Both of them were too set in their ways to truly make room for each other in their lives. He tells her about Jack, how he cannot believe his son is a teenager. The years had slipped by in a way that made him reflective, and she teases him out of his melancholy by telling him stories about the team. Aaron didn’t realise how much time had passed until the waitress came over and gently told them they needed to close the restaurant. Emily exchanges a sheepish look with him when they realise they are the last ones there.

She refuses his offer of walking her home, claiming it was pointless since she lived so far away and that she’d be fine in a cab. He gets a text from her when he gets home himself, an offer of another meal soon, insisting that she pays next time.

For their third date, because that was how he now exclusively thought of their dinners, if only in his head, he purposely choses somewhere near hers so he can walk her home. She narrows her eyes at him as he suggests it, having figured out his game but she allows him to play it anyway.

During the three block walk to her place she slips her hand into his. He turned to look at her but she was pointedly looking ahead, avoiding his gaze. That’s when Aaron realises she wants this as much as he does, and is just as worried about it as he is, what it could do to both of them. Neither of them would ever admit it, but they were both fragile when it came to love. Damage as clear as the scars they both bore on their bodies.

He stops them in the street, now half a block from her building, and stands in front of her, still holding onto her hand. He uses his spare hand to cup her cheek, to make her look at him. She licks her lips, her eyes now staring right into his.

He’d always thought her eyes were beautiful.

Aaron closes the gap between them and presses his lips to hers. She responds almost immediately, tearing her hand out of his so she can cup the back of his head and pull him closer.

It’s years of waiting, of hoping, coming together in a perfect moment. Her hands are in his hair, and his are on her back, pulling her closer as he tastes the dessert they shared on her tongue.

She pulls back, and rests her forehead against his, a laugh escaping her lips before she presses them against his again.

“We should have been doing this for years.” She murmurs against his lips, her hand stroking the back of his head . He mumbles his agreement before kissing her again, unable to help himself now the dam was broken. She suddenly pulls away, lips swollen as she looks at him, seemingly remembering that they were standing in the street still. “Come on, let's go.”

Aaron smiles at her as she tugs his hand, determined to lead him down the street. “Where are we going?”

“To mine.” She says simply, groaning when he comes to a stop, easily stopping her from walking any further. He places a hand on her hip, pulling her closer to him again.

“Em-”

“Don’t ask me if I'm sure.” She says, bringing a hand to his cheek and smiling at him, “We’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?”

That night they lay in her bed, in tangled sheets, fingers trailing over scars they’d both imagined for years. They are reverent with each other, acting as if they are both made of something precious. He laces his fingers through hers as he enters her for the first time, her broken gasp in his ear almost too much for him. When she breaks around him and he follows her over the edge he whispers words of praise into her skin, tells her how perfect she is to him, and he hears her repeating it back to him as her lips press to the scar closest to the top of his chest.

Aaron thinks she has never looked so beautiful as she did when she was curled up against him in her bed, hair in disarray and a sleepy smile on her face. When he tells her as much she scrunches her nose at him and tells him he’s ridiculous, a hand sliding up his chest as he pulls her in and kisses her again.

He stops himself from telling her he loves her that night as she falls asleep in his arms. The promise of their next date being breakfast the following morning dying on her lips as she is lulled into sleep. ___________________________

Emily gets hurt on a case a month later, and it’s bad enough that she ends up in hospital. Dave calls him, and Aaron isn’t even sure how he knew to do so until he says Emily asked for him.

The case was mercifully close by, Aaron jumping in his car to do the two hour drive as soon as he’s off the phone with Dave. A note left for Jack saying what had happened, and a call to Jessica to ask her to look after the teenager that night.

He makes it to the hospital in 80 minutes. A vaguely amused looking Dave meets him at the front desk and tells him that she is fine, that she lost a fair amount of blood to the unsub’s knife and that they were keeping her in for observation overnight.

Aaron doesn’t believe him until he sets eyes on her himself, the door to her room clicking closed behind him. He briefly thinks about the team standing outside her room, the confusion on their faces at him being there, at what he was sure was fear on his face.

“Em, sweetheart.” The nickname slips out before he realises what he is saying, the first time he’s said it, and it makes her eyes brighten at him.

“Hi Aaron.” She tries to smile at him, but the pain lacing through her arm and shoulder means it doesn’t go far. She swallows against her dry throat and she holds out her good hand to him which he eagerly takes, any concerns about the team disappearing as quickly as they had appeared. “It looks worse than it is.”

He raises an eyebrow at her before leaning down and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’m glad you’re ok.”

“Me too.” She smiles up at him. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine, Em.” Aaron smiles when she fails to suppress a yawn. “You should get some sleep.”

Emily frowns at him. “You only just got here.”

“I’ll be here when you wake up.” He runs his hand over her forehead, pushing her hair out of the way. He can’t help but smile when her eyes flutter shut at the first touch of his skin to hers. He keeps the movement across her skin going, watching as her breathing evens out.

“I think I love you.” He whispers, sure she was fast asleep, lulled into unconsciousness by his thumb stroking over her forehead.

She laughs weakly and opens her eyes. “Oh, well I know I love you.”

Aaron leans down to press a gentle kiss to her lips. “I love you.” Another kiss. “Now get some sleep, baby. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

She closes her eyes, the painkillers in her system making her tired. “I hope you’ll always be there.”

Aaron smiles at the admission, something she would never have said out loud in normal circumstances. He runs his thumb over her forehead again.

“I’ll always be here, I promise.”

(It’s the only promise he ever breaks.)

#hotchniss #hotchniss fan fic #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #angst #major character death #fanfic #fanfiction #i am oddly proud of this #I made myself sad

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ilovemesomekillianjones · 4 years ago

Text

In the Still of the Night

Here is my contribution for the Captain Swan Neverland New Year event! You guys, I am so excited to be writing again!!!! Thank you @xhookswenchx for beta reading this baby for me. Kudos to the mods of @neverlandnewyear for thinking up and putting together this treasure that is Captain Swan in Neverland. Tag list at the end, please let me know if you ever want to be removed or added.

Summary: Set after Henry is safe (no Pan switch) but before the gang is able to leave Neverland. When Emma is woken in the still of the night, from dreams of a devilishly handsome pirate captain, she decides she needs a midnight swim to cool off. In which Hook and a daringly open Emma have a meeting of the mind, body, and soul.

Rated M 8K ao3 ffnet Story under the cut, promise

It was the middle of the night when Emma woke, a sweltering, sweaty mess. “Why is this island so fucking hot,” she muttered into the darkness. Having a lascivious dream about Hook had absolutely naught to do with her elevated temperature, it was undoubtedly this goddamn jungle. Now that Pan had been conquered, and Henry was safe, Emma found she was having an increasingly difficult time keeping the smoldering, blue-eyed pirate off of her mind. She needed to get back to Storybrooke, back to some semblance of normalcy... or whatever. She silently cursed Gold for not having found a way to get her father home safely yet.

Ripping the covers from her body, she got up from her bunk below Henry’s and checked on him. Seeing that he was sound asleep, she headed topside. The deck of the Jolly Roger was blessedly deserted. Emma leaned against the railing, looking toward the vast jungle that was Neverland and she shuddered despite the hot, humid air that surrounded her. The shudder wasn’t due to the jungle itself. Since they’d defeated Pan, Hook had shown the group many of the island’s hidden beauties. He had stories for every spot he showed them, some hilarious, some melancholy, some quite ordinary, and others downright terrifying. There were quaint trails, refreshing springs and ponds, fascinating wildlife and vibrant plant life. It was actually quite a dream destination when a maniacal man-boy wasn’t playing psycho.

No, it wasn’t the jungle causing that shudder. She couldn’t get that goddamn kiss off her mind. Emma bit her lip as she reminisced about the way his lips had caressed hers, the way his tongue had slipped into her mouth hungrily but also tenderly. A one-time thing, she’d told Hook. Now if she could just maintain that lie, because that’s what it had been. She really needed Gold to find a way to magic David’s health back so they could get off this god forsaken island already.

She decided that the time for sleep was past, she was wide awake now, with thoughts of that damn pirate. A midnight dip would be ideal, especially while everyone was asleep. Emma left the Jolly Roger and headed toward the secluded pond that Hook had shown them. Once they’d no longer had to worry about being attacked, they’d created a regular schedule for bathing, so everyone had their own time. Luckily, no one’s time was right now.

Traversing quietly through the jungle, Emma admired the beauty around her. The greenery was lush, the effulgent dew made it seem more alive than any plants she’d ever been around. The blossoms surrounding the path were some of the largest she’d ever seen - they were dazzling pinks and oranges. She wondered if she had missed all this in her haste, fatigue, and desperation while finding Henry, or if the jungle had only come to life since the man-child was no more.

She followed the trail Hook had shown them, until she came upon the pond that was shrouded below an overhang at the base of what Hook had referred to as Dead Man’s Peak. The name hadn’t initially inspired comfort in the group, but when David explained to them that the water at the top of the peak was what had cured him, their perspectives changed. Emma swore there must be some restorative properties here at the base because she always felt rejuvenated when emerging from the water.

Stripping as soon as she broke the tree line, she discarded her clothes beneath a tree along the sandy shoreline. Her flesh pebbled as it met the open air, and she felt a freeness as she walked to the water’s edge. She dipped her toes in tentatively, knowing the water would be agreeable as always. Emma was immersed thigh deep before diving down below the surface and swimming toward the middle.

The water sluiced around her body soothingly while she held her breath as long as she could, before breaking the surface. Emma pushed her hair back then ran her hands over her face before opening her eyes. She enjoyed this spot, a sandbar of sorts, deep enough to cover her body, shallow enough that she could still reach, and far enough from all surrounding shore should anyone happen upon her.

The silence that enveloped her was serene and she looked up at the star filled sky. A shooting star floated across the heavens, but just as Emma was about to make a wish, the water beside her opened up as something emerged. The scream that started to bubble up from deep within her, as a hundred thoughts filled her mind on what unimaginable Never-beast this could be, was cut off by a voice she was not expecting to hear.

“Evening Swan!”

“Jesus Christ, Hook!” Emma gasped. Thank god she was in shoulder deep water. “Wait, did you… were you watching when I… you know,” she asked while motioning toward her body.

“Did I what?” Hook asked, genuine confusion furrowing his brow.

“Did you see me undressing?”

“You wound me, Swan… I would never!”

“Oh, tonight you’re the gentleman?”

“I told you, I am always a gentleman,” he claimed in a rich tone as he took a step closer to her. “Spying on a lady as she undresses would be unthinkably bad form.”

“Then where the hell were you?”

“I was underwater.”

“For the whole time?” she asked disbelievingly.

“Aye. I’m a pirate, love, when you live a life on the water, it’s best you be able to hold your breath for longer than the average landlubber. Never know when you might find yourself keelhauled.”

“Landlubber,” Emma scoffed, “I can hold my breath just fine.”

“I’ve no doubt you can, just not as long as meself,” he smirked.

Emma narrowed her eyes at the challenge in his tone. What was it about this man that had her wanting to comply with his every whim? She’d held her breath for as long as she could when she dove into the water, if he��d been under from the time she’d stripped until he popped up to interrupt her wish, that had to be like two full minutes? No way, she thought, he must have come up for air while she was under.

“Bet I can,” she challenged back.

“Is that so?” Hook asked, crowding her a little more, eyebrow cocked in interest. “And just what are the terms of this bet?”

If ever asked under oath, Emma would swear his eyebrows spoke a language all their own. “If I win, I get the Captain’s quarters,” Emma replied, crossing her arms over her chest smugly - as if she’d already won.

“I told you before, Swan, you and the lad should have my quarters.”

“I don’t want it given to me, I want to take it from you.”

“Fine,” he sighed, “such a stubborn lass. And if I win?”

“You tell me,” Emma said with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Hmmmm,” he hummed, as the tip of his tongue swept along his bottom lip. “How about…” he continued, tapping his pointer finger to his lips.

Emma leaned toward him with anticipation as he pondered the terms to set.

“I get to ask you any question I want.”

“Seriously?” Emma sputtered, head tilting to the side, it was rhetorical at best, not an actual question. “You’re taking this gentleman schtick a little over the top. I thought you’d want me to flash my tits or another kiss?”

“I told you, love, I am always a gentleman, and as such, I would never want to take a kiss from you in victory, I want it given to me, willingly. I want you to want it as much as I do.”

Emma blushed as he spoke, damn him for being a chivalrous pirate. “Whatever,” Emma muttered, “I’m winning this bet anyway.”

“So, we have an accord?” he questioned, holding out his hand for her to shake.

“Deal,” Emma said, shaking his hand. “How will we know no one cheated?”

“I do have a code, Swan,” Hook scoffed, “pillaging and plundering, yes; swashbuckling, yes; swindling beautiful maidens, never.” He held his hand over his heart as if he were making a pledge.

Emma smiled at the actual drama queen standing before her, laughing lightly, it felt good. “Okay, so how are we doing this thing?” Hook held up his hand like he was about to take an actual oath, and Emma was half inclined to high-five him, though she was sure that was not his intent.

“Take my hand then,” he prompted, nodding his head toward his hand. Once her fingers were laced with his, he explained that he would count to three and they’d both submerge to the bottom, first one up was the loser, and the winner would know, because the loser would release the winner’s hand to reach the surface for air.

On three they submerged, and Emma could not see a thing. Hook was inches from her, and the only indication was his hand in hers. Feeling the comfort of his grasp in the eerily dark abyss, she pondered over the fact that she’d interlocked their fingers, instead of just holding hands palm in palm. She really needed off this island, she couldn’t be falling for him. Life was too hard for a relationship. Or was it really too hard, the rarely heard from, softer side of Emma Swan’s mind butted in. It could be so easy, this voice told her.

When Hook had told her that he would win her heart without any trickery, Emma’s heart had beat a little stronger just for him, she’d wanted to pull him into her arms to make out right there. Alas, there had still been the issue of her beloved child to save.

Would it really be so bad to let Hook try to win her heart though? He truly was a gentleman, a pirate scoundrel sometimes too, but it was part of his charm. Plus, her lie detector said that everything he’d told her regarding how he felt about her, about what the kiss exposed, it was all true.

Emma’s mind wandered back to Storybrooke, to what it might be like to have someone who understood her, someone who was like her, to spend time with. The squeeze he gave her hand at that moment had her picturing what it might be like to walk through town with him, hand in hand. Was that even something she could still do, be that vulnerable, for the world to see her care for a man? She’d been on her own for so long, independent; free from any man who could hold her heart with the possibility of crushing it.

Suddenly she felt dizzy, head spinning and heart pounding loudly in her ears. Had she held her breath too long, or were her outlandish imaginings too much for her stoic heart? Releasing Hook’s hand, Emma rose to the surface and gulped in the air. Pushing water and hair from her face, she panted deeply. She wondered how long they’d been down there already as Hook continued his underwater mission. Leave it to him to not only win, but really show her up.

A full minute later, Emma began to worry. Unless she’d been down there an inordinately short amount of time, he’d been under for at least two and a half minutes. Was that even possible? Had he passed out in his endeavor to “best her”? She started to actually worry for his health when another thirty seconds passed.

“Goddammit Hook, where are you?” she muttered.

“Miss me, love?”

“Oh, goddammit!” she yelled as she flailed so hard, she was pretty sure she’d just flashed her breasts unwittingly. The bastard wasn’t even out of breath when he popped up right in front of her. “Stop doing that,” she laughed as she pushed his chest. “Why’d you stay down so long, you big showoff?”

“On the contrary, I could feel you thinking down there, the amount of body language just in your hand told me you were contemplating some things. I merely wished to give you enough time to escape, should this game have become too much for you.”

“Escape?” she scoffed.

“Now, now, Swan - we both know of your affinity to run,” he said lightly, no accusations or contempt in his voice.

“Says the pirate who sailed away when asked to be a part of something,” Emma retorted.

“I came back, didn’t I?” he questioned with a raised eyebrow. “You, on the other hand, left me to be eaten by a giant atop that beanstalk.”

“You’re so dramatic,” she laughed. “I made a deal with Anton to release you after ten hours, I just needed a head start, in case you…” Emma’s voice lowered to a whisper, not wanting to voice her early assumptions about his motives and intentions.

“In case I betrayed you,” Hook finished.

“Sorry,” she whispered, looking straight into his eyes, imploring him to believe the sincerity of her words. Although she’d had her reasons at the time, it didn’t make her feel less terrible now.

“Long forgiven, milady,” he whispered in turn. Then, in the next breath, he was back to the cocky pirate she knew. “Now, I do believe I won, and per our accord, you owe me the fee of one truth.”

“Congratulations,” Emma offered, extending her hand to shake, “you won, fair and square.” No trickery, she thought. Then she crossed her arms over her chest, which was still underwater, so it didn’t make her look menacing at all as she jutted out her chin and raised both eyebrows in a silent challenge to do his worst.

“Why thank you, Swan. Hmmm, what shall I ask you?” he spoke, as if pondering his many choices. “There are truly so many things I wish to learn about you, I want to know everything, really.”

Emma’s eyebrows lowered as a shy smile crept over her face. It was stupid, she knew, but having this man before her, admit that he wants to know everything about her made her feel… cherished, adored, wanted. It was a foreign feeling after so many years of being alone. “Well, you only get one free question,” she said, trying to deflect the saccharine sweet feelings he was stirring within her.

"Pity, that, but I do remember the terms of our agreement. I do have one question picked out that I simply must know the answer to, before I endeavor to learn more. Fair warning, I may not have an Emma Swan internal lie detector,” he said as he leaned in closer to her, “but as I told you before, you are a bit of an open book, so I’ll know if you’re twisting the truth.”

“I would never,” Emma objected dramatically, holding a hand over her heart as he had so often done when feigning injury to his pride.

“Good,” he replied, taking a step even closer. “Then tell me, love, when you said our kiss was a one time thing, did you mean it? And if you did mean it when you said it, do you feel the same now?”

His close proximity was making her feel a little less confident than the facade she was putting on, but Emma didn’t break the heady eye contact he’d made, a beautiful shade of blue, looking into her, reading her. And how was the kohl that rimmed his eyes unaffected by the water? She might have to pillage some of that from him, it put her realm’s cosmetics to shame. God he was gorgeous as the moonlight shined down on them, she’d never noticed the hint of red to the scruff along his sharp jawline. “That’s two questions,” she murmured breathily as she thought of nibbling along that jawline.

“Shall I rephrase?”

“Oh, the hell with it, I never meant it,” she confessed as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her bare chest against his and kissing him soundly.

As their lips collided hungrily, over and over, Emma was pretty sure she heard Hook mumbling thanks to the gods. She felt a little of that same relief, as she finally admitted that denying herself this thing that she wanted was ridiculous now that everyone was safe. Running her fingers through his thick hair, she gave it a little tug, angling his head so she could deepen the kiss. The groan he elicited was sinful and it kind of made Emma want to rub herself all over him.

Instead she ran her other hand over his chest, deciding to take her time, she’d wanted to feel that chest hair since the first time she’d seen it proudly on display. It wasn’t quite what she expected since they were both wet and it was matted to his chest. She smirked when he jumped, his hand tightening involuntarily in her hair as she ran a thumb over his nipple.

“A little sensitive, Captain?” she teased, looking up at him through her long lashes.

“Aye,” Hook chuckled, “‘s been awhile.”

It’d been a long dry spell for her as well. And it’d been even longer since feeling any true emotion when with a man. It had merely been scratching an itch for so long that she was a little scared what this all meant. The tingling, unadulterated want she felt in every nerve of her body far outweighed the fear though. “Touch me,” she whispered as she wrapped both arms around his waist.

“Bloody Hell, you’ll be the death of me, woman,” he muttered as he kissed her once more. He wrapped his good arm around her and pulled her in close. Trailing a path from her mouth to her ear, he bit gently on her lobe, and it was his turn to smirk as a shiver ran through Emma’s entire body. “Would you be opposed to taking this back on land?”

“We just got clean, I don’t want sand in every crack and crevice,” she giggled while wrinkling her nose.

“Aye, that would be less than optimal,” Hook agreed, “though the place I have in mind won’t get your nether regions sandy.”

“What’s wrong with right here, right now?” Emma challenged. She was pulled up short when Hook’s cheeks went pink and he scratched behind his ear as he did so often when he was feeling slightly unsure of himself. Truth be told, Emma found it cute, although she’d never tell him that, she doubted the fearsome pirate captain wanted cute to be correlated to his reputation.

“It’s just, I’d rather…”

Brushing the hair from his forehead, Emma smoothed her thumb over the worry line that creased his brow. “What’s wrong?” she asked. When he made no attempt to answer, Emma decided to employ his own tactics against him. “Try something new, Hook. It’s called trust.”

Emma internally cheered as one of Hook’s mega watt smiles overtook his face. The smile that showed those adorable (another word she was sure he would not want associated with him) dimples, and crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“Touché lass,” he conceded, “I’d rather be able to have use of all my appendages.”

Emma raised an eyebrow, gazing very obviously in the direction of his most manly appendage. “Ummm, it felt like it was working just fine to me.”

“Christ, Swan,” he chuckled, “I assure you, everything is ready, willing, and able in that department. I’d like my hook.”

Emma’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened as she thought, not for the first time, about what that hook would feel like against her heated skin.

“It’s okay, love, if it repulses you, I can just wear the brace without the hook.”

Emma shook her head, a frown downturning her brows and her lips, “Stop-”

“But I assure you,” Hook continued without letting Emma speak, “if the hook repulses you, the wound will surely-”

Emma’s hand over his mouth was more effective in shutting him up. “Stop it,” she demanded, “right now.”

Hook was a little taken aback by being commanded by the fiery version of Emma, he’d seen her fiery side before, and he liked it, he liked every part of her. He wasn’t taken aback by her fire, rather he wasn’t used to being bossed around. He was the boss. But as he stood there, with her hand over his mouth, he realized he’d follow her orders any day.

“Do you think I’m unaware that you don’t have a left hand?”

Hook shook his head in the negative, since her hand was still covering his mouth.

“Do you think I’m so shallow as to be repulsed by your hook or your brace or your wound?”

Hook took longer to answer this time, contemplating what he’d said and what she was asking. He supposed his words may have left room for misinterpretation. Slowly shaking his head no again, Emma removed her hand from his mouth.

“Good,” she stated simply, reaching for his left wrist before he even realized she'd made a move.

His head spun when he felt Emma’s touch upon his scarred flesh and his knee-jerk reaction was to pull away from her grasp. He struggled to find the words through the haze. “It was not my intent to imply you are shallow, Emma. It is my own reticence.”

“Trust me,” she whispered as she took his left wrist again. Wrapping both of her hands around his forearm and blunt wrist. Emma repeated the words comfortingly as she placed the arm he was so ashamed of between her breasts and held it there, where he could feel her heart beating.

“Your hook, your brace, or just this,” she squeezed his wrist, “has no bearing on how I feel about you. I care about you, Hook.” Her voice sounded shaky, even in her own ears. “You came back for me, you helped save my son, you make me feel wanted, you make me feel good about being me.” Removing one hand from his damaged skin, Emma wrapped it around the back of his neck and pulled his forehead to hers before closing her eyes and continuing. “I’m not ready for this part, and I apologize, because that is my hang up.”

“Hang up?” he questions.

“A simpleton’s way of saying reticence,” she answers with a small smile before continuing. “I hate words, they make things real, and messy, and although I mean everything I’m saying, that’s all I can handle right now. Please just…” she inhaled sharply as she tried to articulate her plea to let this be enough.

“I understand,” he whispered, voice just as shaky as Emma’s. He placed his hand on her cheek, lovingly caressing the softness of her lower lip. “And I do trust you, love.” He pecked her lips once before continuing. “I know you don’t like words, that much was clear from the start,” he said with a knowing smile and another peck to her lips, “but I’d like to respond, if you’re amenable?”

Emma nodded her head, eyes still closed, still reeling from her own confessions.

Hook kissed her gently again before prodding her to open her eyes. “I want you to see the truth of my words.”

Emma inhaled deeply, then opened her eyes to look at him. She bit her lip, a nervous habit from her teen years, as she waited for his words.

“I want to be the one to bite this lip,” Hook growled, as he used his thumb to massage her lip from her teeth.

“Truth,” Emma giggled despite herself, nodding to let him know her lie detector was working.

Hook waggled his eyebrows and smirked at her, before resuming his more resolute demeanor. “I have never felt more naturally drawn to a woman than I do with you. Your fire and passion brought my dormant heart back to life, and for the first time in decades upon decades, I want to be a better version of myself, a version that has been long forgotten, the old Killian Jones who was an honorable man, with good intentions, and hope in his heart, not revenge.”

“You may have lost your way for a time, but you’re still an honorable man, Killian.”

“Gods above,” Hook murmured as he wrapped both arms around Emma and pulled her into nothing more than a loving embrace. He was in love with her, but now was not the time. Emma would undoubtedly run if any grand declarations were made. He hadn’t felt this vulnerable maybe ever and he longed to hear her call him by his given name again.

“Emma? Hook?! What the hell?”

Emma froze in Hook’s embrace as the familiar, and annoying, and currently very judgmental voice sounded from the shore.

“Bollocks,” Hook cursed. “How shall we handle this, darling?”

“Can we just pretend he’s not there,” she deadpanned, face still buried in her neck, trying to keep reality at bay.

“Somehow I doubt that will work, but you are The Savior, you could give it a go.”

Emma sighed deeply before turning around in Hook’s arms, her back to his chest, so she could face their interloper. She placed her hands over his hand and wrist where they were wrapped around her waist. It was still dark as she faced Neal, so hopefully he wouldn’t see the eyeroll she’d just given him when she saw this silhouette of his hands on his hips like some outraged father.

“Good morning, Neal,” she called to the shore cheerfully. “I must have lost track of time, I didn’t realize it was already your shift for bathing.”

“It’s not,” he muttered, “it’s still the middle- not the fucking point,” he interrupted himself. “It’s not your shift either, what the hell are you doing out here?”

As much as Emma wanted to tell Neal that she and Hook were doing exactly what he assumed they were doing, she abstained. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” she snapped.

“It is my business,” he snarled back, “we’re supposed to be here for Henry.”

“Don’t you dare!” Emma started, voice rising with rightfully earned indignation. “We came here to save Henry who is now safe and sound aboard the Jolly, but the reason we are here is because your deranged fiancée dragged him through a portal to sacrifice him to a madman.”

“So you’re just going to throw away any chance of rekindling what we had, of being a family with Henry; so you can get laid by a dirty pirate.”

Emma pulled Hook’s arms around her tighter, keeping him anchored to her when she felt him start to pull away. She didn’t need these two getting into it again.

“Oi! I bathe quite frequently, mate,” Hook quipped. “I was doing so when Swan and I happened upon each other.”

“Shut up, Hook,” Neal retorted.

“The one good thing that came from us, was Henry, but our relationship is long over. There is nothing to rekindle,” Emma sighed. She didn’t want to be mean, but she needed Neal to understand that she wanted nothing to do with him romantically. And she was not going to be lectured by the man who’d already blown up her life once. “Maybe one day, you and I can be friends for Henry’s sake, but that is the most we will ever be.”

“Ems, you don’t mean that. You’re under his thrall, it’s not real.”

Emma completely ignored the bait, choosing instead to stop this exchange in its tracks. “Hook and I are kind of busy,” she said with a lighthearted tone, while turning back around to face Hook. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she called over her shoulder, ”If there’s nothing else, we’ll see you later.”

“You mark my words Emma, when he abandons you after taking what he wants, you’re going to look back and regret this moment.”

“He’s stuck around through more shit than you ever did,” she called back, looking straight into Hook’s eyes.

Properly dismissed, Neal stormed off, muttering curses the whole way.

Emma dropped her head to Hook’s chest, exhaling with relief. “That felt good,” she said.

“Well done, lass, though I’ve yet to see you fail, so I am not surprised Baelfire is no match for you. But perhaps we should make our way back as well,” Hook suggested. “I do believe he will be stirring the pot, come morning. You may want to be there to head off the storm.”

“I don’t care if he goes back to tell everyone, it’s not like it’s a lie, and at least this way, they will know we’re safe, and not missing. With any luck, we’ll be left alone for a bit,” she purred.

“Are you sure your parents will approve of you spending time with a dirty, one-handed pirate with a drinking problem?”

Emma’s head jerked up and she eyed him scrutinously. “First, you need to get Pan and Neal out of your head. Second, the only person who gets to decide who I spend my time with, or how I spend it, is me. And third, how do you know I don’t want you to be dirty,” she teased as she took command of his mouth with her own.

Not giving him a chance to think further, Emma quickly kissed him again. She slid her tongue past his lips, rolling it against Hook’s, who was quick to reciprocate. She wrapped her lips around his tongue and sucked on it, eliciting one of the sexiest noises she’d ever heard. It was half growling and half begging for more. The buoyancy helped him to easily lift her and she instinctively surrounded his body with her legs.

Hook broke the kiss, in favor of exploration. His hot mouth trailed down Emma’s neck, licking here and nibbling there, never too rough, he didn’t wish to mark her, at least not where it would be visible. He palmed one of her breasts with his hand while running his thumb over her already pebbled peak. “Gods you are perfect,” he murmured before taking her other breast in his mouth and alternating between gently suckling and the graze of his teeth.

Emma moaned softly in pleasure and torment as Hook worked her up, her clit throbbed and she longed to feel his hand or his mouth between her legs. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, she pulled his head back and gazed into his eyes, want and desire evident in her pupils which were blown wide and the way her tongue licked salaciously over her bottom lip before she bit down on it.

She unwrapped her legs from around Hook’s torso, in favor of standing again. Sliding her hands down his back, she squeezed his ass cheeks before pressing her body against his. “I want you,” she whispered when she felt his hardness against her stomach. Emma reached between them to wrap her hand around his thick length.

“Swan,” Hook choked out, pulling her hand gently away from his overly eager cock. “I really don’t want this to be over before it starts.”

Emma smiled knowingly, the very thought of making him come early amping up her need. “Okay, you lead,” she agreed.

“Come with me.” Hook led her toward the far end of the pond, which was actually far larger than she’d realized. They rounded a large looming rock which cloaked the entrance to a small cave by the shore.

“You just know all the secret spots, don’t you?”

“I discovered many hiding spots over the years I spent on this cursed island,” Hook acknowledged. “I usually walk to this side of the water’s edge to deposit all my belongings before bathing. One can never be too safe with the keeping of his hook.” Extending his hand to Emma, he led her out of the water and into the shelter.

They entered far enough to have a little privacy, but not so far as to be pitched in blackness. Hook pulled her over to a natural, rock-formed shelf. “Do you want a towel, milady? Perhaps my shirt?”

“I want you,” Emma growled, yanking on his hand and pulling him flush against her body and attacking his mouth again.

“Mmmm, as you wish,” he uttered between ardent kisses.

Emma whined when he broke away from her again, “Hook!”

“Patience, darling,” he teased. Then he quickly grabbed his jacket and his towel, laying first the jacket down on the cave floor, followed by the towel. “So you don’t get sand in every crack and crevice,” he advised with a mock bow.

Emma laughed at his naked bow before tackling him to the makeshift bed and straddling his hips. She wove the fingers of her left hand with his right, and wrapped her other hand around his wrist before pinning them above his head.

She didn’t miss the way he jumped when she embraced his wrist, a fleeting look of helplessness crossing over his face. She kissed him softly, tenderly, wanting to calm his nerves about his perceived flaw. When she felt his body relax against hers, she started to trail kisses across the line of his jaw before veering back up to his ear. “Has anyone ever told you, you are beyond gorgeous?” she whispered before sucking his earlobe into her mouth.

“I tell myself this all the time, but it does sound much lovelier on your luscious lips.”

“These lips?” Emma asked, sitting up just slightly and running her tongue along her bottom lip.

“Aye, the very ones,” Hook struggled to get out of her hold, as he tried leaning up to taste her lips.

Emma kept a firm hold on him though, enjoying this little bit of control. She could feel his cock against her ass, hard for her, twitching each time she nibbled and sucked at his skin. She continued to trail kisses downward, along his neck, across his pecs. His hips thrusted upwards when she bit down on his nipple and flicked her tongue over the sensitive flesh. “Patience,” she mimicked his earlier command.

Hook’s melodramatic exhale made her giggle as she scooted further down his body, gently rubbing her wet core along his cock. “Bloody hell!” Hook cursed while deftly flipping them over.

“Don’t you want to see what else these luscious lips can do?” she asked with a wicked grin.

“Gods above, I do. But I swear you will unman me the moment you wrap your lips around me.”

Emma smirked at him, eyes alight with lust.

“You little minx, you like that idea don’t you?”

“Maybe,” she admitted, a confession really, despite the ambiguity of the answer. She’d already resumed stroking him.

“Fuck,” Hook hissed at her touch. He was torn between his ego needing to pleasure her first and his baser instincts demanding he let her do her worst.

Emma watched Hook, saw him struggle with the decision, his eyes squeezing shut when she ran her thumb over his tip. Without waiting for his answer, Emma rolled them back over and licked from his base to his tip before sucking the head of his cock into her mouth while continuing to pump him.

Her clit ached as she reveled in the wrecked expression on his face, Hook was watching her every move, lip pinned between his teeth as he struggled to hold out. She knew he was close when his hand balled into a white knuckled fist on his stomach and she gently cupped his balls to massage them. The sound that left his mouth was positively feral as he came hard, warm and wet in her mouth.

She savored the moment, he hadn’t lasted long, and she’d been the one to do that to him. But that was all she had, a fleeting moment before she was being rolled to her back.

Hook held her in his blunted arm and dove in for a kiss, not caring at all that his taste was still on her tongue. He smiled against her lips when he felt her spreading her legs beneath him. “Eager, are we?” he asked between kisses.

“Don’t tease,” she panted into his mouth.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Hook slowly caressed his hand down her neck, stopping to play with her breasts for just a moment before continuing down to where he knew she was desperate to be touched. He parted her lips with two fingers and slid his middle finger into the warm wetness waiting for him. “Gods, Swan, you’re soaked.” His cock was already coming back to life as he thought about sliding into her wet heat.

Emma’s eyes rolled shut as Hook massaged her clit with her slippery wetness and any response she could’ve made was forgotten. Her mouth parted with an involuntary whimper when he switched it up, suddenly, but oh so easily slipping two fingers deep inside her. She contracted around his fingers, then pushed down, welcoming the penetration.

Hook fucked her with his fingers, circling his thumb over her clit, while watching her cheeks flush pink and her breasts bounce as she rode his hand. Longing to taste her, he repositioned himself between her legs, chuckling at her whine of protest when he had to stop for a moment.

“Oh fuck,” she panted when he resumed loving her clit, this time with his tongue. He alternated between licks and flicks and sucking. Emma’s head spun dizzily, she’d experienced oral sex, but apparently she had never experienced mind blowing oral sex. She threaded both hands into his hair and tried desperately not to be too rough. “Oh my god, I’m gonna… I’m gonna…”

Hook chose that moment to thrust his fingers back inside her and Emma was gone, she came harder than she ever had, warm and tingly and wet as Hook continued to thrust his fingers into her and suck on her clit. She saw stars or dots or something behind her eyelids and there was a rush of waves nearby, or maybe that was just the adrenaline coursing in her ears. The little aftershocks pulsing and throbbing in her clit were heavenly and oh my god, that was fucking amazing, she thought.

“Get up here,” she purred, pulling on his hair.

“It seems someone was just as primed as I was,” Hook smirked as he slid back up the length of her body.

Emma silenced his smugness by wrapping her legs around waist and flipping him to his back. The rush of air that left Hook’s chest made her chuckle as she placed her hands on his cheeks and whispered to him between kisses. “Well, you’re very, very skilled,” she praised.

“You set the bar very high, love.”

Emma beamed at his compliment, her cheeks warming. She wasn’t sure what it was about this man that made her feel unlike she’d ever felt with another man. Like she was special and desired, it made her feel sexually free in a way she never had. Sitting astride Hook’s solid body, she caressed her hands along his chest, exploring his now dry chest hair, it was just as thick and glorious as she’d imagined.

Emma could see the scars littering his flesh and she’d felt more when they’d been in the water and her hands had explored the expanse of his back. She wondered how rough his life had been to have this many physical scars. Her heart constricted a bit at that thought, especially already knowing he had just as many emotional scars as she did. She was both taken aback and a little frightened when she realized she wanted to know so much more about Hook. Maybe it was time to stop running from good things, Emma thought, her mind once again weighing the pros and cons of a relationship. Her train of thought was lewdly interrupted by a thrust of Hook’s hips, his hardness tapping at her back.

“Ready so soon, pirate,” she said in a husky tone while rising up on her knees and guiding him to her core. She ran the tip of his cock through her wet folds, both of them moaning with unadulterated lust.

“Fuck yes,” he growled, thrusting his hips upward again.

Emma cried out as his tip slipped inside her, a wave of arousal pooling and her belly tightening with want. She slid down his generous length, slowly savoring the drag against her slippery walls. She planted both hands on his chest and stilled her movements when he was fully seated, adjusting to his size.

“You alright, love?” Hook asked, squeezing her hip gently while he circled his thumb over her hip bone.

She nodded her head and opened her eyes, which she didn’t realize she’d shut, to gaze down at the gorgeous man below her. “You feel good,” she praised, lifting her hips and sinking back down on to him. Emma set a languid pace, delighting in the sensation of fucking, the drag along her walls, angling herself so he hit that spot.

“That’s it, lass, take what you want,” Hook encouraged as Emma rode him; slowly at first, then building in pace as her cheeks flushed and a light sheen of sweat broke out across her forehead. He wished, not for the first time tonight, to be able to touch her with two hands. He encouraged her to touch her breasts as he changed course to play with her clit.

Emma’s thighs began to burn as she worked to bring them both to that sweet edge of release, and the delicious friction between them built higher and higher. She palmed her breasts, tweaking her nipples and watched as Hook thumbed her clit in time with her thrusts. His hooded eyes roamed her body, and he bit down on his lip as he watched his cock disappear inside her heat over and over. She liked watching him watch her and the small grunts he gave each time she impaled herself and ground against him were hot. Emma found herself at the edge of bliss again and she whimpered as Hook began thrusting up into her.

Hook was having a hard time controlling his ardor, he wanted to flip them and plunge deeply into her. She was a vision, flushed pink, sweaty, breasts bouncing as she rode him to the edge. And then he heard her...

“Come with me, Killian,” she panted.

...and he was undone. The plea in her tone as she said his name and the massage of her walls against his cock as she began to come, ended him. He came hard and hot with a cry of her name, filling her with his seed until it began to spill as she continued to ride him through both of their releases.

As euphoria traveled throughout her body, Emma slumped into Hook’s body. She’d never felt so gratified as her entire being thrummed with bliss. Hook turned them to their sides and kissed her fervently. Wrapping both her arms around him, Emma gave as good as she got, their tongues and lips engaging lovingly. She lost track of all time as they lay together, parting only when they needed breath. “That was-”

Hook covered her mouth much as she had covered his earlier. “Don’t,” he whispered with a pleading look in his eyes.

Emma wrapped her fingers around his palm and removed his hand, giggling quietly. “I didn’t mean it the first time, and I damn sure wouldn’t mean it this time,” she assured him, noting how his shoulders sagged in relief. “I was going to say that was amazing… brilliant,” she murmured into his ear.

Hook chuckled, remembering the time he’d said those words to her. “Aye, Swan, we still make quite the team.”

Emma could only smile at the seamless harmony that flowed between them. And she kissed him once more before snuggling into him.

As a sated exhaustion made itself known in her body, Emma rejoiced that it was still dark outside of the cave. A vigorous yawn and stretch wracked her body, and Killian chuckled lightly again.

“Did I wear you out?”

Emma laughed as the same yawn tore through Hook, no sooner had he spoken his teasing words. “I think we wore each other out,” she snickered.

“Aye lass, I believe you’re right. How about we get washed up and head back to the Jolly? I’ll give you the captain’s quarters, even though you lost.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Brag much?”

“What is the fun in winning a wager if I cannot gloat?”

“Such a pirate,” she muttered before rolling him to his back again. “How about we share the captain’s quarters?”

“Deal,” Hook accepted without hesitation.

A half hour later, they were standing in the cave, bathed, and mostly dressed, Hook had gone to get Emma’s clothes for her from the opposite shoreline.

“Shall we?” Hook asked, offering Emma his hand. He frowned when she made no attempt to move.

“I’d rather…” she started, a blush coloring her cheeks.

“Ah, I understand,” Hook said, quickly understanding. “Shall we head back in separate directions? Or perhaps, I’ll just stay here for a bit and come back later in the morning.”

Emma rolled her eyes again, this time with a bit of frustration, as she placed her hands on her hips. “That is not what I was going to say.”

Hook raised an eyebrow in question, waiting for her to explain.

“Has nothing I’ve said tonight gotten through to you? Or did that mind blowing sex make you forget?” She took his heavier than expected leather duster from where he had it draped over his arm and turned around to lay it out on the cave floor.

Turning to face Hook again, she cupped his face in both hands. “Let’s recap, I like how you make me feel, I’m not worried about everyone finding out, best oral ever, sensational sex, no running away. I fancy you, Killian.” Emma finished her statement with a gentle kiss.

The gobsmacked look on Hook’s face made her laugh out loud. “I was going to say I’d rather spend the rest of the night here with you. We already know everyone else will know we’re safe. Even if Neal doesn’t outright blab; if Mary Margaret and David start to worry, he won’t hesitate to spill what he knows.”

“You fancy me, love?”

Despite heavily stroking his ego by admitting he was the best she’d ever been with, it figured the part he’d pick up on was the closest she’d get to any kind of outright confession of feelings. Emma smacked her hand to her forehead. “Yes, Killian, I fancy you. Don’t get all cocky about it.”

“On my honor, I’ll not get cocky,” he promised before leaning in to kiss her, “as I quite fancy you as well. But you already know that.”

Laying down on his jacket, the two snuggled together, Emma in panties and Hook’s shirt and Hook in his birthday suit.

“You needed to get naked again to go to sleep?” Emma asked with a little sarcasm in her tone.

“I’ll have you know that style and comfort do not go hand in hand, Swan. Those leathers, though appealing to the eye, do not make for great sleep clothes. Besides, all pirate’s know the only way to sleep when there’s a lovely lass in his bed, is in the nude. You know… easy access.”

“Why am I not surprised by that, Killian?”

“I’ll never tire of hearing you call me that,” he answered.

“Killian,” she whispered.

“Aye, love?”

“Nothing, I just wanted you to hear me say it again.”

A boyish smile broke out over Killian’s face as he pulled her in tighter to his side. “Good night, Swan.”

“Goodnight, Killian.”

The End

Tagging some lovely shipmates - please let me know if you don’t want to be tagged - or if you’re reading and want me to tag you.

@laschatzi @qualitycoffeethings @hookedonapirate @wordsmith-storyweaver @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @wyntereyez @hooklineandswan @teamhook @let-it-raines @whimsicallyenchantedrose @spartanguard @tiganasummertree@apromisednightcap @xemmaloveskillianx @elizabeethan @cocohook38 @optomisticgirl @darkcolinodonorgasm @jennjenn615 @timeless-love-story @girl-in-a-tiny-box @thesschesthair @galadriel26 @ultraluckycatnd @lifeinahole27 @therooksshiningknight @kday426 @djlbg @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @lfh1226-linda @delightfully-difficult-pirate @thejollyswan @csalltheway @xarandomdreamx @vvbooklady1256 @withheartfulloflove @resident-of-storybrooke @mcakers @gingerchangeling @searchingwardrobes

#csnlny #cs fan fic #cs ff #captain swan #cs is my otp forever

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justcallmefox89 · 5 years ago

Text

Truth or Dare Part 4

The birthday sleep over has completely fallen apart, Mammon and Levi are at each other’s throats, Arianthi backslides into old thoughts and dangerous habits, and Diavolo offers her comfort.

Some good old fashioned angst and NSFW content: Language, blowjob, penetrative sex, face riding, unprotected sex.

Remember everyone, consent is key. Being open and honest with your partner and making sure you’re both on the same page is the sexiest thing you can do for one another. Also - practice safe sex mmmkay? :)

TW: body image and self esteem issues, eating disorders.

Written from the perspective of my female character Arianthi.

I’m adding a different mood playlist to each installment of this series, just songs that I listened to while writing and feel embody each part of the story.

Foxy Shazam - Count Me Out

Callum Scott - Dancing on My Own

Meg Myers - Desire

Hozier - Movement

Jess Benko - A Soulmate Who Wasn’t Meant to Be

“Arianthi! Arianthi! Open the damn door!” Mammon pounds on the door to Arianthi’s room, unable to open it.

“Screaming at her to open the door after you’ve just insulted her on her birthday probably isn’t the best way to get her to let you in Mammon,” Lucifer says coldly.

“I doubt she’d let you in anyway, scumbag,” Satan adds, an angry growl in his voice.

Mammon opens his mouth to snap back, then closes it, unable to come up with a retort.

“Stupid Mammon can’t even defend himself this time,” Asmo mocks. “You just blew whatever shot you had with Arianthi straight to hell.”

Mammon looks at the floor, ashamed. “I didn’t mean it. She’s got to know I didn’t mean it, I was just so.....”

“Jealous? Stupid? Idiotic? Pick a description because they all fit. Newsflash, even a shut in otaku like me knows like you can’t treat the girl you supposedly care about like shit and then expect her to still like you.” Levi glares at Mammon and then tries the doorknob again, agitated.

The door still doesn’t open and he can’t hear any movement inside her room.

Beel looks around worriedly. “She never locks her door. Ever. She always leaves it open so I can go in and get the snacks she keeps for me. And Luke said she might be sick.”

Belphie shares his concern. “Do you think we should have Beel break the door in? In case she’s too sick to answer and needs help?”

For the first time since Lilith, Lucifer looks to be at a loss. Concern for Arianthi and the urge to comfort her battles with his desire to protect her privacy.

Diavolo steps forward to pass a hand over the door and sighs. “It wouldn’t matter if he did. She’s warded the door against us.”

The brothers share a look of surprise.

Mammon is the first to recover his voice. “Where would she even learn ward magic? And why would she start using it now?”

“I taught her.” The demons turn to look at Solomon, who has walked up behind them. “And as to why she’s using it, I’d venture to guess that Mammon’s little attempt to shatter her self-confidence worked, and she doesn’t want to see any of you right now.”

Mammon flushes with shame. “I didn’t mean any of it,” he mutters.

“Then you shouldn’t have said it.” For the first time a sharp tone enters Solomon’s voice.

“Take down the ward,” Lucifer orders him.

Solomon moves to stand in front of Arianthi’s door. “No.”

Lucifer’s eyes gleam red, anger rising. “You may be a powerful sorcerer Solomon, but I am one of the seven lords of the Devildom and I will rip your heart out of your chest without hesitation. Open. The. Door.”

“No.”

Lucifer lunges forward, already shifting to his demon form.

Diavolo stops him with a strong hand on his shoulder. “I know you’re all worried, but maybe Solomon is right. Maybe we should respect her privacy. She’s put up the wards for a reason.”

Levi pushes forward and knocks softly on the door. “Arianthi? It’s me. Can I come in?”

Silence.

“Please Arianthi?”

The demons and Solomon all hear movement behind the closed door and Arianthi’s voice whispering. There’s a soft click and the door opens. Arianthi’s hair has been pulled back into a messy ponytail, her make up removed. A t-shirt that is clearly Beel’s hangs to her knees, over it she wears one of Levi’s hoodies, and a pair of Belphie’s sweats peek out beneath the over sized shirts. She’s obviously been crying.

Something sharp and painful twists in Mammon’s chest. I did this. I made my human cry. I was stupid and jealous and I fucked up. I need to make this right. He moves quickly towards the open door, attempting to push past Levi.

“Arianthi, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean -”

Arianthi holds up a hand to cut him off. “Just Levi.” Her voice is soft and hoarse.

Levi slips past Mammon and into the room. Arianthi shuts the door behind him and whispers the incantation to once again ward the door.

------------------------------------------------------------

Levi follows me and we both take a seat on my bed, leaning up against the headboard, shoulders touching.

“Luke said he heard you being sick.”

I sigh heavily.

I don’t want to talk about this now. Never talking about it would be ideal. Forgetting this whole shit show of a night would be fantastic.

“I was sick. Then I took a shower and brushed my teeth. I’m fine now.

“Did you make yourself sick on purpose?” Levi asks softly.

I turn to face him, getting my first proper look at his face and his emerging black eye.

“Levi! What happened to your face?” I reach out to touch his cheek, worried.

He gently grabs my hand and pulls it down, folding it between his two large ones. “Don’t change the subject.”

The urge to cry comes on again, hard and fast. “I’m sorry Levi,” I whisper.

He sighs. “I’m not mad at you. I just........I wish you wouldn’t feel like that’s something you have to start doing again.”

“I’m sorry,” I say again. “It just....it’s hard. I haven’t felt that way in a long time but then......... I just felt this panic and I thought if I could get rid of the food then I would feel better. And if I start doing it again then I can be more like what he wants.......I could be pretty. I could be so much more than this. I could be good enough for him.” I gesture at my body, the tears flowing freely now.

Levi thunks his head back against the headboard of the bed in frustration. He turns me to face him, his thumbs brushing my tears from my cheeks.

“Hey we’ve talked about this. Remember what you told me when Mammon was selling that picture of me? And I was so embarrassed because I didn’t want anyone seeing that much of my body? You told me I was perfect how I was. I didn’t have to look like Beel or Mammon to be attractive. Fuck everyone who thought differently. You loved me. My brothers loved me in their own weirdly deranged ways. You said I didn’t have to change to be like anyone else to be worthy of love and the things that made me different from my brothers were what made me sexy. And then you got Mammon to delete the picture and give me all the Grimm he made from it.”

Levi grins at me. “I think you’re the only person who has ever been able to get Mammon to willingly hand over Grimm.”

I choke back a sob. “I remember.”

“Ok, well I’m telling you the same thing now. Don’t go back to that. Don’t hate yourself, don’t make yourself sick to try to control things, to change things about yourself to make someone else care about you.” Levi gives me a little shake.

“That’s easy for you to say. I’m just a human. Is there some stupid rule here that all demons must be skinny and mind blowingly attractive?”

Levi looks at me for a moment then laughs. I join in, giggling through my tears.

“I mean what I’m saying,” Levi says as he wipes away the rest of my tears. “We all care about you, exactly how you are. If you start to feel like you can’t handle this and need help we can talk to Diavolo. He can send you back to the human realm to get help from the doctors there. I’m sure he’d let you come back after.”

I bite my lip anxiously then nod. “I’ll tell you if I can’t get a handle on it. If I can’t, or you think I’m slipping you can tell Diavolo.”

“Pinky promise?”

I smile, linking my pinky with his. “Pinky promise.”

Levi sighs in relief. “Good. Feel a little better?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so,” I answer, leaning my shoulder against his. “Hey Levi?”

“Mmm?”

"Thank you.”

He smiles at me. “Anything for my Henry.”

“Could you do me a favor? Could you tell Diavolo I want to talk to him real quick? I want to apologize for everything that happened tonight.”

“Yeah, sure.”

I stand up and reach over to my nightstand. I hand Levi a jumble of things; a toothbrush, a D.D.D. charger, some t-shirts, a pair of sunglasses, a white dress shirt.

“Can you give these back to Mammon when you go back out there? Please?”

Levi nods and we walk to the door together. I take down the ward and he slips through the open door.

------------------------------------------------------------

“She wants to talk to Diavolo,” Levi tells the crowd assembled outside Arianthi’s door. “She’s upset but she’s not sick anymore.”

A wave of shock ripples through the rest of the brothers. Diavolo nods and quickly enters the bedroom.

“She really doesn’t want to see any of us?” Asmo asks, hurt.

Levi looks at the ground, trying to avoid the upset gazes of his brothers. “It’s nothing personal Asmo. She’s just got some stuff going on right now. Really personal stuff. She can’t talk about it with anyone else. She might though. Soon. Just don’t be mad at her for it, please?”

Asmo nods, still obviously distressed.

“Well, now that I know she’s not sick I’m going to gather up Luke and Simeon and we’ll take our leave,” Solomon says, shooting Mammon one last dirty look before he turns and walks down the hall.

The demons all give him a half-hearted wave goodbye.

Levi remembers the things that Arianthi gave him and quickly shoves them into Mammon’s arms. “Here’s all your stuff that was in Arianthi’s room. She doesn’t want it in there anymore.”

Mammon looks down at this things in horror. There’s a stinging sensation in his eyes, and he suddenly can’t breathe. He bites down on his lip hard enough to draw blood, and quickly walks to his room without a word to his brothers.

“This is really bad.” Beel looks around at the remaining brothers. “We have to fix this.”

Satan sighs softly. “This might be something we can’t fix Beel.”

“Satan’s right. Ultimately this is going to be between Arianthi and Mammon,” Lucifer says. “The best thing we can do is to let Arianthi know we still care about her and want her in the House of Lamentation.”

He sighs. “Let’s all go to bed. There’s nothing else to do here tonight. I’m sure if Diavolo thinks anything is wrong he’ll let us know before he leaves.”

The brothers all exchange worried glances before they disperse to their bedrooms.

------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey.” Diavolo gives me a small smile as he enters my room.

“Hey.” I return the smile and pat my bed. “You can come sit with me if you want.”

“Do you want to put the wards back up?”

I shake my head. “No, just close the door please.”

“Are you feeling better?” The mattress dips under Diavolo’s weight, causing me to slide closer to him.

“Yeah, just a bad moment.”

“I’m sorry Mammon said those things about you.” Diavolo reaches out to take my hand. I involuntarily flinch at the touch of his fingers and he jerks his hand back. “I’m sorry, I overstepped.”

I quickly grab his hand, lacing my fingers with his. “It’s ok Diavolo. I’m just feeling a little off right now.”

“Are you sure?” He looks at me with concern. “I don’t want to make your night worse with my attention if you don’t want it.”

I press a soft kiss to his knuckles. “I’m sure.”

A faint blush stains Diavolo’s cheeks. “And you promise you’re feeling better?”

I grin. He’s absolutely adorable.

“Promise. I have some things I need to work on, but right now I am feeling better.”

He squeezes my hand. “Good.” He pauses for a moment, looking as if he’s trying to gather his thoughts, before he turns and looks earnestly into my eyes.

“Arianthi....... I want you to know that I don’t agree with any of the things Mammon said. And I hope that you don’t let his outburst taint your opinions of other demons...... or of me. I meant what I said earlier tonight, about wanting to get to know you more. I don’t want to push you, because I know that you have feelings for Mammon, but I do hope you’re still open to giving me a chance. And I think our encounter earlier this evening proved that I’m more than slightly attracted to you, just as you are.”

His last sentence comes out in a rushed whisper, and he’s blushing heavily.

“I wouldn’t let something like that change my opinion of you Diavolo,” I respond truthfully. “There are some feelings regarding Mammon that I need to sort through. I really don’t know how all those are going to shake out. I do like you, I enjoy our time together, and I think I made it obvious earlier that I’m attracted to you too. I meant what I said earlier about getting to know you. I’m open to see what could happen between us.”

He smiles and places a soft kiss on the inside of my wrist. “I’m a very patient demon. I’ll follow your lead. Whatever you want, no pressure at all.”

He pushes himself up from my bed. “I should be going. You need your rest.” He leans down and kisses my forehead. “Good night Arianthi.”

I reach up and stroke his cheek. “Diavolo?’

“Hmmm?”

“Stay with me tonight?” This might be a bad idea, but I really just want him close to me right now. Someone who’s open about how he feels me. Someone strong and handsome who can distract me from this fucked up night.

I just want some comfort. Some cuddles. There’s nothing wrong with that. Right?

He hesitates a moment, shock and pleasure warring across his face. “Are you sure?”

I bite my lip, hesitating a moment before holding my arms out to him. “Cuddle me?”

“Your wish is my command, birthday girl.” He grins at me, bending down to give a tight hug.

I stand up to feel more of him, nuzzling my head against his chest. “Thank you.”

He rests his chin on my head. “Anything for you,” he whispers.

We stand that way for a minute, swaying slightly. I feel safe in Diavolo’s arms, like nothing can ever hurt me.

A demon, the Prince of the Devildom no less, is the one who makes me feel safer than I ever have before. I internally roll my eyes and huff a small laugh against Diavolo’s chest.

“Diavolo?”

“Mmm?”

“This is really nice, but can we get into bed? I’m exhausted.” I playfully slump against him to prove my point.

He effortlessly holds me up and chuckles. “Yeah, we can do that. Let me send a message to Barbatos really quickly to let him know he’s free to go home.”

He reaches for his D.D.D. to tap out a quick message.

I pull away to shuck off my hoodie and sweats. I look up to find Diavolo staring at me, eyes wide. I look down at myself, wondering what the problem is.

Beel’s t-shirt is all the way down to my knees, I’m wearing underwear. I’m all covered up. What’s wrong? Panic starts all over again. He hates what he sees. This is a mistake. He knows he made a mistake.

“Everything ok?” I ask anxiously.

“Uh huh. Yep. All good here,” Diavolo says, swallowing nervously.

“Ok.” I smile at him, and slide between the sheets, sinking into my mattress. Diavolo moves to lay beside me, still fully clothed.

I look up at him, confused. “You’re not sleeping in your clothes are you?”

Diavolo’s ears turn red. “I was considering it.”

I stare at him. “Diavolo, we’re both adults here. You can sleep in your boxers. We’ll be ok. If anything happens beyond cuddles it will only be because we both want it. But neither one of us are going to sleep comfortably if you’re still wearing all your clothes.”

He lets out a nervous breath then grins down at me. “You’re right, you’re right.”

He peels off his jacket and shirt, and I stare as his hands move to his belt buckle and he pushes down his pants.

Holy. Fucking. Fuck. Temptation has entered the chat.

I thought Beel was a gorgeous specimen, but Diavolo surpasses even him. Every inch is heavily muscled, perfectly defined. Smooth skin that I want to run my hands over.

I want to climb this man like a tree and never come down. Bad Arianthi. Bad. Quench your thirst.

Diavolo slides under the sheets next to me and we roll onto our sides to face each other.

He reaches out to hold one of my hands. “I really am sorry your birthday ended on such a sour note.”

I squeeze his hand. “It’s not your fault. I’m sorry you had to see all that. Besides, it’s not all bad. We’re here, getting to spend time together.”

He gives me a soft smile, and his hand moves up to gently stroke my arm. “That’s true.”

I tense in automatic response to his touch. He’s going to feel how fat my arms are. He’s going to hate what he feels.

Diavolo’s hand stills immediately. “Is this ok?”

I suck in a deep breath and nod, relaxing a little, waiting for the rational part of my brain to take over.

He’s seen my arms before. He already know what they look like. He wouldn’t be here, touching me, spending time with me, if he didn’t want to.

He resumes his gentle stroking, but remains silent. He seems to be considering what he wants to say.

I place a hand on his bare chest and he shivers under my touch. “Diavolo I can hear your wheels turning from here. What’s on your mind?”

He smirks at me. “I always forget how perceptive you are.” He pauses for a minute, choosing his words carefully. “I know that you have some issues with your body.”

I tense up again.

His hand moves away from my arm, stroking the curve of my waist down to my hip. Up and down. His soft touch gradually helps me relax.

“I’m not going to push you to talk about it now. But I hope someday you feel comfortable enough to talk to me about what you’re feeling. Until then I have no problem telling you how gorgeous I find you. How perfect your body is to me. I’ll tell you every day. Every hour. Every minute, if that’s what it takes.”

I lay my head on his chest trying to hide my tears. Happy tears this time. After a couple minutes I regain my composure and look back up at him. Warm golden eyes meet mine, and he smiles down at me.

I bite the inside of my cheek to hold back more tears and give him a small smile. “Thanks. You know, you’re going against every single demon stereotype right now.”

He pulls me to him, holding me tight. He chuckles, and it rumbles deep in his chest. “Maybe so. But as long as I’m making you happy that’s all that matters.”

He pulls back to stare down at me intently. “I just ask that when you do struggle with things like that you talk to me. I might not always be able to make things better, or even understand, but I want you to always be honest about your feelings with me.”

“I can do that. But only if you promise to do the same thing.” I press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“I promise.” He moves to kiss my cheek in return, but I turn my head at the last minute, catching his lips with my own.

This kiss is soft, chaste, but he still gives a pleased gasp and tightens his grip on me.

He pulls away suddenly and looks down at me with concern. “I want to kiss you. Really kiss you.”

“Then kiss me.” I tilt my head up, ready for more.

Diavolo frowns and bites his lip. “You’ve had a rough night, and you’re upset. I don’t want to take things further, if you’re not......” He exhales sharply. “I don’t want to take advantage of you if you’re not in a good head space right now.”

Mind. Blown.

Once again, a demon is being more considerate than the majority of humans I’ve dated. He deserves to have the same consideration from me.

“I promise you Diavolo, you won’t be taking advantage of me. I want this. I want you. But if you don’t feel comfortable then I won’t push it and we’ll just cuddle and talk. Or you can leave if you don’t feel ok about that anymore. I won’t be mad. I want you to be comfortable too.”

“I am more than comfortable with this as long as you are.” Diavolo moves in to kiss me again but I press a finger to his lips, stopping him.

“I just want to make sure that I’m being totally transparent with you. I like you, and I do want you. I still want to keep getting to know you. But whatever happens between us tonight I can’t make you any promises that it will lead to anything permanent. If you don’t feel ok doing anything more physical than kissing without a being in a relationship, then I totally understand.” I hold my breath, waiting for his response.

He stays silent for a bit, mulling over what I’ve told him. “I appreciate your honesty. We’ve already decided that we want to keep learning about each other and spending more time together. Sex won’t change what I want, and I won’t ever push you for more than you’re comfortable with. Physically or emotionally.”

Whew. “Same page then?”

“Same page. Can I please kiss you now?”

I giggle and nod, and he surges forward, pressing his lips against mine. I sigh into the kiss, pleasure lighting up every nerve ending. Diavolo licks along my lower lip.

“Open your mouth,” he growls.

I instantly obey and brush my tongue against his. He pulls me tight against him, his tongue soft against mine, expertly teasing me, gentle and exploring. I wriggle against him, desperate for more contact. He grips my hips and rolls onto his back, pulling me on top of him, his mouth never breaking contact with mine.

His hands tug at the hem of my shirt, asking permission. I move up to my knees and pull it over my head, tossing it carelessly onto the floor.

“Fuck.”

Diavolo pulls me further up his body and turns his attention to my breasts. He draws one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard and flicking it with his tongue. His hand moves up to cup my other breast, gently stroking and squeezing, before his large fingers start pinching and tugging my nipple, bringing it to a stiff peak. He cups me again, his large palm overstimulating my already sensitive breast.

I card my hands through his hair, tugging slightly and giving a small moan. Diavolo releases my nipple from his mouth with a small pop! and gives me a wicked grin. His hands stroke down my back and move to squeeze my ass. He mouths my neck, teeth nipping against the tender skin.

“Mmmmm. So quiet. Clearly I need to do better. I need you moaning my name. Telling me how good I make you feel. Don’t hold back beautiful. Let me hear you,” he murmurs.

He sucks hard on a particularly sensitive spot on my neck, then soothes it with a soft swipe of his tongue.

“Diavolo!” I shudder against him and he takes the opportunity to lavish more attention on my breasts, kissing and licking, making me squirm above him.

“Mmmm, that’s more like it.” His deep voice sends pleasant vibrations against my skin as he continues to use his mouth on me.

I pull back and look down at him. He’s flushed, breathing quickly, his eyes heavy lidded with desire. “My turn.”

I lightly kiss his lips, moving down his neck slowly. I press sensuous kisses to his chest, licking one of his nipples while I gently scrape the other with my fingernail.

“Yes,” he hisses between clenched teeth, arching beneath me.

I grin against his chest, slowly moving down his body. I scrape my teeth along his abs and give him a soft bite. One large hand moves down to softly tangle in my hair. I stop my kisses at the waistband of his boxers. His erection strains against the fabric, but I’m not going any further without his express permission.

I look up at him through my lashes and give a small tug on his boxers. “Are you ok with this?”

His hand tightens in my hair. “Don’t you dare stop now.”

“Perfect.”

I give his stomach one last kiss and palm him through thin fabric. His hips arch up and he ruts against my hand, the front of his boxers already wet with pre-cum.

I pull his boxers down, slowly freeing his erection. He lifts his hips, speeding the process along. I quickly toss away his discarded boxers, and reach out to stroke him.

He’s huge.

I suddenly have doubts about how he’s going to fit in my.......well anything really. Then Diavolo moans my name and everything else disappears.

I continue to stroke him, relishing the velvet feel of his skin against my hand. I lower my head to give him kitten licks, slowly swiping my tongue against the head of his cock and his slit, lapping up his pre-cum.

“Fuck.” Diavolo fists his hands into my hair. “More. Please.”

It’s a heady feeling, having the prince of the Devildom beneath me and begging for my mouth. I wrap my lips around the head of his cock and begin sucking, continuing to stroke his shaft, my hand moving in rhythm with my mouth.

Diavolo tries to keep his hips still, but he can’t help thrusting up into my mouth, greedy for more contact. I gag, my eyes tearing up, but I continue on, his pleasure the only thing on my mind. I eventually remove my hand, my mouth bobbing up and down on his cock. It’s a messy, sloppy blow job, but from his groans of pleasure I don’t think he minds.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” Diavolo breathes, those words somewhere between a plea and a prayer.

I reach between his legs to cup his balls, my mouth still wrapped around his thick cock. His hips buck, his back arching off the bed, and I can feel the muscles in his thighs tighten. He tugs on my hair, pulling me off of him, and I release his cock reluctantly.

“Something wrong?” I ask with a grin, wiping the back of my hand across my mouth.

“If you keep doing that I’m going to cum.” Diavolo’s chest is heaving and he grips my wrists tightly.

I arch an eyebrow at him. “And that’s bad because.......?”

He growls and yanks me up his body. “Because I need to taste you. Now. And when I cum I’m going to cum inside you. I want to see your face when I mark you as mine for the first time.”

He keeps pulling me up until my thighs are resting on either side of his head. He presses a kiss to my inner thigh. “Hold on to the headboard.”

“Wha-? Oh god!” I lose my train of thought as Diavolo gives a sharp bite to the inside of my thigh. He turns his head and brushes kisses along the other.

He brings a finger up and slowly circles my clit.

“So pretty,” he mumbles. “And so wet. Just for me.”

He lazily swipes his finger through my folds, up and down, before returning to press on my clit.

I grip the headboard, panting. “Diavolo..... no teasing.”

He presses one finger into me, stretching me. He strokes slowly, giving me time to adjust to his size.

I whimper and attempt to move my hips. One large hand grabs my thigh, holding me still. Diavolo adds a second finger, stroking in and out, working me into a frenzy.

My grip on the headboard tightens. “Your mouth, use your mouth. Please,” I beg.

Diavolo continues his maddeningly slow pace, pressing his thumb against my clit for further stimulation.

“I can’t hear you princess. Be a little louder for me. Use your words.” He blows a breath of cool air against my heated core and I shiver, tightening around his fingers.

“Diavolo please! I need your mouth on me. Please!” I’m no longer worried about keeping quiet. The whole House of Lamentation could hear me for all I care. My one need is to feel Diavolo’s mouth on my pussy. NOW.

He laughs and gives my thigh one last kiss. “Good girl.” He slowly and deliberately swipes his tongue against my clit.

“Fuck!”

He removes his fingers and presses an open mouth kiss against me, his tongue stroking through my folds. “You taste even better than I imagined you would.

My hips buck. “More,” I mewl helplessly.

Diavolo’s hands grab my hips roughly and he plunges his tongue inside me. I scream, overwhelmed by the sensation. He keeps a firm grip on me, never allowing me to move away. He begins using his hands to guide my hips in an up and down rhythm, his tongue thrusting in and out.

He’s making me fuck his face.

Everything begins to fade around me. Nothing matters but the sensation of Diavolo’s tongue between my thighs.

“Diavolo..........Diavolo I’m going to cum. I’m going to cum.” I’m a whimpering mess, unable to do anything but hold tight to the headboard and let pleasure sweep me away.

He removes his mouth from me long enough to say, “Then cum for me Arianthi. I need you on my tongue.”

His presses a finger against my clit, circling it roughly while he resumes fucking me with his tongue. Tension gathers in my core, tighter and tighter until it finally snaps.

“Diavolo!” I scream, shuddering against him. My vision flashes white as my orgasm takes over. He continues to stroke and lick me through my release, lapping up everything I give him.

I’m trembling when he eases me off of him and lays me back on the mattress. He rolls over on top of me, grinning and looking pleased with himself.

He brings his mouth to mine and gives me a deep kiss. I can taste myself on his tongue, and I moan into the kiss, greedy for more of whatever he wants to give me.

“Good?” he whispers against my lips.

“Try amazing,” I whisper back, lacing my hands behind his neck and bringing him down for another kiss.

He breaks the kiss and laughs, moving to settle his hips between my thighs. He reaches between us to stroke his cock a few times, using the head to tease my already overstimulated clit.

He looks up and meets my eyes. “Is this ok? Do you still want this?”

I nod and tilt my hips up to meet his. “I want this.”

He slowly pushes the head of his cock into my pussy. I tense slightly and he stops.

He’s so big. How is he this big? Are all demons this big? Goddamn Diavolo you could split a girl in half.

Diavolo presses a soft kiss to my lips. “Relax baby. I won’t hurt you. I’ll be so gentle with you.”

My body melts into his, soothed by his sweet words. He continues pressing into me, inch by excruciatingly pleasurable inch.

“You’re so beautiful Arianthi. And so wet for me. Such a tight fit baby. Like you were made just for me. Fuuuuuuuuck...... I love the way you feel.” Diavolo murmurs against my neck, kissing and nuzzling me between endearments.

He lets out a beautifully obscene moan once he’s fully sheathed, and gives me time to adjust to his size. I’m panting, already overwhelmed by the feel of him.

“Are you ok if I move?”

“Fuck yes,” I whisper, rocking my hips against his.

He pulls out, only to thrust back in slowly, drawing out every ounce of pleasure he can. I throw my head back against my pillows and close my eyes, reveling in sensations. His cock inside me, his lips on my neck, the feel of his hair between my fingers, the weight of his body pressing me down into the mattress.

Diavolo continues to slowly thrust, building our mutual ecstasy. I feel his mouth against my ear.

“Look at me,” he orders, nipping at my earlobe.

I gasp and focus my eyes on his face.

“I want your eyes on me princess.” He snaps his hips against mine, increasing his pace. “I want you looking at me when you cum, knowing it’s me that made you feel this way. I don’t want you thinking about Mammon. I want all your attention on me and how good I make you feel.”

“Yes,” I whimper, wrapping my legs around his waist.

“What’s that baby?” Diavolo thrusts into me hard, leaving me gasping for breath.

“Only you Diavolo. Only you,” I cry out.

He gives me a feral grin. “Good girl.”

He deepens his thrusts, grinding against me every time our hips meet. He holds himself up on one forearm, bringing his other hand between us, fingers sliding down my stomach to rub against my clit.

I scream his name, fingertips digging into his shoulders. I’m coming undone, quickly. Diavolo feels me tensing beneath him and kisses me, tongue entering my mouth and mimicking the movements of his cock.

I break away, gasping for air. “Diavolo I’m going to -”

“Me too.” He’s breathless, chasing his own orgasm. He rests his forehead against mine. “Please look at me. I need to see you.”

I open my eyes and he looks down at me, eyes glazed with lust. His hips stutter and his thrusts become sloppy. He pushes into me one last time, and I feel the warmth of his release as he cums, moaning my name. The sensation of his cock twitching inside me sends me over the edge, and I bury my face into his neck as my pussy clenches around his cock.

We’re both breathing hard when I pull back to look at him, and he leans down to repeatedly press soft kisses to my lips. He stays inside me as we kiss and hold each other for a few minutes, reluctant to separate.

“Are you ok?” Diavolo whispers, nose nuzzling my cheek.

“That was ........ I can’t....wow....you’re amazing,” I answer, giggling as his nose tickles me. “Are you ok?”

“I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this happy.” He smiles down at me, giving me one last kiss before he pulls out and stretches out beside me. He curls into the position of big spoon and pulls me tight against his chest, one arm wrapping around me protectively.

He kisses the back of my neck, and pulls the blankets over us. “I think we’ve earned a little rest.”

I nestle back into the warmth of his chest and relax, listening as Diavolo’s breathing becomes slow and even. I close my eyes, settling into the comfort of his body against mine when a sudden noise makes my eyes fly open.

I scan my bedroom before my gaze settles on my door, cracked open, light from the hallway spilling into my room. My eyes fly up and land on the pale face staring at me from the doorway.

Oh, fuck.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mammon wanders the hallways of the House of Lamentation, miserable over the way things had happened at Arianthi’s party. He can’t sleep, sick to his stomach that he had let his jealousy and pride hurt the person that he cared about the most.

I gotta find a way to make this up to her, to show her I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. It was so stupid. All I need is a chance to apologize and I’ll promise to never do it again. I just need to get her to listen to me for five minutes so I can give her the birthday present I got her and tell her how I really feel.

A cry catches his attention and he follows the sound to investigate. He ends up in front of Arianthi’s door. It’s barely cracked open and he can hear whimpers coming from inside her room. Worried that she may be sick again he softly pushes the door open a little wider. What he sees makes vomit rise in his throat and tears spill down his cheeks.

Diavolo is on top of Arianthi, thrusting his cock into her slowly and whispering things Mammon can’t hear. What he can hear is Arianthi moaning in pleasure as she writhes beneath Diavolo, bucking her hips up to meet his every thrust. He watches in horror as they cry out in pleasure together, then gently kiss and whisper to each other as they come down from their shared high.

What did I do? Did I fuck up this badly? Or has this been going on right under my nose the whole time? No, no, Arianthi’s not like that. I did this. I pushed her away every time she started to get close. This happened because I fucked up. I didn’t treat her right, I didn’t let her know I cared. This is on me.

Mammon roughly wipes the tears from his cheeks as he watches Diavolo wrap himself around Arianthi and they settle in to sleep. He can hear Arianthi’s sigh of contentment as she cuddles back into Diavolo.

He stares at them a moment longer, something deep and ugly taking root in his chest. Rage, jealousy, pain, love, and regret war inside him, each begging to be released.

That should be me. She’s MY human. MY girl. I’m her FIRST man. That should be ME.

Mammon’s breath catches as Arianthi’s eyes snap open and focus on him. He looks at the person he loves above all others, tears falling openly down his face, as she gazes back at him in shock from the comfort of another demon’s arms.

257 notes · View notes

shayberri789 · 3 years ago

Text

I posted 6 393 times in 2021

45 posts created (1%)

6348 posts reblogged (99%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 141.1 posts.

I added 602 tags in 2021

#mha - 103 posts

#show meep - 90 posts

#deltarune - 88 posts

#aftg - 81 posts

#loz - 56 posts

#tloz - 47 posts

#pjo - 41 posts

#shay posts - 34 posts

#pied piper fic - 31 posts

#deltarune chapter 2 - 31 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#i’d do the tag but what i last wrote was character profiles for oc’s lmao i don’t even know what the last bit of creative writing i did was

My Top Posts in 2021

Okay but also, what if in the rwrb movie we get shots of Henry’s point of view during events? Please for the love of god I want to see henry Doing some royal bullshit in the palace or eating Jaffa cakes or whatever the fuvk they are at 3am and losing his shit at the weird texts Alex sends him.

OR OR OR. Henry’s reaction to the emails during meetings

And the TURKEYS. From an outside perspective. JUST IMAGINE

Like the directors don’t even NEED To change the plot to make the movie interesting to ppl who’ve read the books 6 times. Just make it the rwrb from Henry’s perspective. It’ll tick all the boxes for a great adaption:

- faithful

- yet new and interesting

- fulfill the undying desire of the entire fandom

- two hours of gay pining and panic

Like I would seriously kill for it sidndkdnd

108 notes • Posted 2021-10-20 02:54:51 GMT

Ok but this shouldn’t be a surprise for anyone (but for some reason I have yet to see someone else say it) BUT.

Andrew’s love language is acts of service.

I don’t think I need to make a case for this; look at how/what he gives ground:

the halloween party

helping neil with his injuries both after christmas and baltimore

the time he spent with neil at the police

how much effort he goes through to keep his promises

his quietly doing things for people he cares for without a word

80% of what he does for kevin

giving up crackers

I think a similar case could be made for gift giving. I know Nicky says that “Andrew isn’t one for giving gifts” in tfc but like.

the keys. Come on.

he gives neil cigarettes without being asked

the clothes he buys neil

bee’s figurines

he gives renee the keys to help jean

I’m blanking but there’s more, feel free to add lol

155 notes • Posted 2021-08-10 01:15:25 GMT

Alright it’s been about 2 months since I read Carry On because Life but anyway from what I’ve seen the fandom is COMPLETELY sleeping on that part in CO when Baz returns to Watford after being kidnapped and he is LITERALLY like “I’m gonna announce myself before anyone else does and I’m going to be a Dramatic Gay™️ about it” and used magic to fucking FLING the cafeteria doors WIDE FUCKING OPEN while dressed all fancy like “I hope Simon notices me” Boy PLEASE

163 notes • Posted 2021-11-02 19:13:54 GMT

If you think about it, the scene at the Hemmick’s house and Nicky’s relationship with his parents is a lot sadder when you consider what the foxes stand for.

In tfc, wymack said (paraphrased Bc j can’t remember it word for word) “it s about given you another chance - second, fourth, sixth, seventh I don’t care so long as it’s one more than you would’ve gotten otherwise”

That’s the foxes’ thing; second chances, they know they’re all fucked up and messing up and triggering each other left and right but they have faith in one another and even if they don’t always forgive they do give new chances. Nicky sees the benefit of it, he does it with his teammates and it rewards him, and they give him.

But he kept giving his family second chances, more than the other foxes would’ve, more than I would’ve (I would have never given them a second chance if they sent me to conversion camp, even if I had to live in the same house as them) because he hoped they’d do better like the foxes did, because surely they’re not as screwed up as the foxes right? But he didn’t fully realize that being fucked up is not the same as being filled with hate, and he didn’t realize they didn’t deserve his chances until they did something that made that fact apparent: they hurt Andrew, the person who Nicky gave second chances to and Andrew made them worth it, while all his parents ever did was hurt him further. And the parallels are just sad, ya know?

171 notes • Posted 2021-09-09 07:29:03 GMT

My favorite thing about the aftg fandom is that we collectively decided Andrew has pierced ears and the twinyards have freckles.

266 notes • Posted 2021-09-22 20:46:30 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #I cry as my fandom contributions are the only notable thing about me and not any of the creative writing bits I did #rip me #also what do you mean I made 45 posts but only 34 of them were tagged #I try to tag all my original posts with shay posts #tumblr when will you give me a way to actually see all my original posts #without having to tag for them or have them not show up when I search for these tags #arg #shay posts

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theonetheycallhannah · 4 years ago

Text

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter Four: E-Stim

Pairing: Captain “Sy” Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: Shane deals with the consequences of her email to her boss, both good and bad. A mortifying situation has an…unexpected outcome. Emotions run high in the fourth chapter of The Tx of Sy! Behind on the action? Catch up HERE!

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Language, some angst and emotions. (Like I literally cried writing part of it) And like, an asshole boss…but if you stick it out with Susan, you won’t be disappointed.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

Tags:

@onlyhenrys

@cavillryarchive

@summersong69

@titty-teetee

@bloodyinspiredfuck

@agniavateira

@oddsnendsfanfics

(you didn’t ask, but i took the liberty! Hope that’s okay!)

@tumblnewby @suavechops

Shane had spent her morning getting ready for work and treating her first patient with a whopping headache…maybe a small glass of wine would have been more responsible of her. But she slept like the dead, which was the goal.

She took a moment before her second patient to check her email…there was a reply from Susan.

Shane, come to my office at your next possible availability.

No "thank you" or "please" or "fuck you very much." just an order. Last she checked, SHE wasn't in the military. Since Heather wasn't in yet, she messaged the secretary on duty, Marsha, to see if she could find a way to make an opening in her morning. She wanted to get this meeting over with.

Sure, Shane. Looks like Cory could take your next patient, if you like. He's seen him before.

Perfect. Please make that change and block me for a meeting with Susan. Thank you so much.

She saw Cory walk by, and warned him. "Cory, I'm having Marsha move Mr. Greenbaum to you next hour. I need to meet with Susan about something." she rolled her eyes.

"Oh, shit. Okay. No problem." Cory knew all too well the fuckery that a Susan meeting could entail.

"I really appreciate it. I owe you big time."

"Nah, Mr. G is cool. We just talk about huntin' and stuff."

"He'll probably like that we switched, then." she laughed. And headed for what felt like the principal's office. Bleak and miserable.

She knocked on the door, and was told in an all too cheerful manner to come in.

"Hey!"

"Morning Susan."

"Close the door and have a seat, Shane."

She typed away for a moment before fully engaging…as was her way. She thought it gave her the power. It really just annoyed the fuck out of everyone.

"So, tell me what's going on with this patient you emailed me about."

"Well, he's an ACL and MCL tear, traumatic, plus a dislocated patella. He did it during a mission in Iraq. Ummm, he's improving a lot. Potter did the surgery. He had him keep the crutches about two weeks longer than we thought he would, but--"

"No I mean…this relationship. What's the deal, here?"

"Oh, there's not much to say about it, really. He's been fairly flirty from pretty early on. I've been able to ignore it, but to be honest, I think he's a really great guy, and I think he deserves better than me ignoring his advances, especially when, to be honest Susan, the feelings he has for me are not unrequited." her heart was racing. More than if Sy had been in the room flirting with her, but so much less pleasant.

"I don't think you should see this guy until the treatment is over. What if it doesn't work out and he doesn't want to come here anymore because of you." That hurt…not that it wasn't rattling around in her head, too.

"Well, Susan, to be honest, that's one reason I haven't spoken up about this already. I have that fear. But he's been very adamant about it lately, and it's been on my mind a lot, and I think I owe it to the both of us to see it through."

"I think I should call this guy. Let me pull him up."

She gave her his details to get his information pulled up in their system. God, this was embarrassing. She should have known this nightmare was coming.

"Hello?" a gravelly bark came across the speakerphone.

"Hello, Mr. Syverson?"

"Captain Syverson, yes, Ma'am." She wasn't expecting him to pull rank…and he did it so politely.

"Sorry, Captain Syverson. My name is Susan DeForrest, I'm the manager here at Fort Wood Therapy Clinic. How are you this morning?"

"This side of the daisies ain't worth complainin. What can I do ya for, ma'am?"

"Well, I have Miss Benton, your therapist here in a meeting. You're on speaker."

"Hey Sy." Shane mewled sheepishly.

"Hey there, Shane." she could hear the smile in his voice. She didn't know if Susan could.

"She's saying that the two of you would like to see each other socially, outside of therapy."

"Oh, that's not quite the words I'd use, ma'am, but I s'pose you're technically correct."

"And she's explained to you that this facility has a policy in place regarding such fraternization?" What a load of bullshit she was shoveling. Making it sound so sinister and clandestine what she and Sy were trying to start up. Like espionage. This woman…

"I'm aware that certain policies exist like that to protect patients or customers, and more frequently the staff from situations that could present problems for both or either parties. I am not aware that a strict policy exists to police your staff in such a stringent manner. In fact, I know the opposite to be true."

"Excuse me?" Susan asked, shell shocked.

"See, them policies o' yours, they're all available online. Public knowledge. Even your personnel ones. Now, y'all have a nice and thorough handbook, I mean, I have been up all night just pouring over this like honey on toast, and I can tell you, I ain't findin' a word about y'all not being allowed to date your patients."

"Well, it's in policy number…"

"Nope, you were gonna say 47, subsection 2, part b. But that just says that you shouldn't treat anyone you're close to (i.e. friend, relative, or significant other) if you can't maintain objectivity or your own comfortability. Now, if I'd make Shane uncomfortable, or if she lost her objectivity over me, I'd be devastated. Shane, do I or do you think I could make you uncomfortable or unobjective?" he was laying it on so thick. If she hadn't been falling for him, this would have done it.

"I don't think so, Sy." She held back a smile…but not well.

"There ya have it. Miss DeForrest, I trust that Shane is free to live her life in the way she sees fit?"

"Well, I still think she should wait…" Susan started, but was cut off again by Sy.

"Because you see, I've seen a lot of young people fail to grow old. A lot of people waitin' to do things…they never ended up doin'. This life…it can be real, real short, Miss DeForrest. And I'm not keen on waitin' to be happy when I could be happy right now. Have I made myself clear enough for you? Or do I need to go to the next link in the chain of command here?" The emotion and resolve in his voice was completely shattering. He wasn't crying. But Shane and Susan both were. And then suddenly, Susan sniffed herself into composure and answered him with dignity.

"No, Captain Syverson. That will not be necessary. Shane…is free, of course, to socialize with whomever she sees fit so long as it doesn't affect anyone's treatment adversely. Thank you for your time, candor, and perspective, sir."

"I'm glad to help Shane. She's helped me more than any therapist I've ever had. We clicked immediately. I knew she was somethin' special. But getting to know her over the last few weeks has shown me what true happiness could feel like…I'd forgotten that over in Iraq. She gave that back to me. I'd like to thank her properly."

"I think she'd like that too. Thank you, sir." Susan hung up the phone without letting them say goodbye to each other, but Shane was an utter mess, and unable to form coherent words right now, anyway.

"Wow." Susan exclaimed.

"Yeah." Shane sniffed into a tissue, dabbing her eyes and then blowing her nose loudly, and unapologetically.

"Did he say he spent the whole night reading our policies?" Susan asked, not sure she heard him right.

"That's what I understood." Shane was somehow not surprised.

"Did you tell him to do that?"

"I didn't even know the policies were online, nor did I know you'd pull him in to our meeting…I didn't even know we were having one until twenty minutes ago."

"Right…fair. Sorry, I'm still…off-put by all of that." She had been beaten…and it wasn't familiar or comfortable.

"So, are we finished here?" Shane inquired, tentative about the state of mind her boss was in.

"Yes, go on and take the rest of the hour for continuing ed or whatever." She was normally much more composed…Sy had really gotten to her. She loved it.

Shane hurried back to her treatment room. She had to call him.

"Hello?" that same gravelly voice now confused as he'd just hung up with her, basically.

"May I speak to the great hero Captain Syverson, please?"

"Sunshine. How ya doin'?"

"Did you really stay up all night last night to read our entire employee manual?"

"I wanted the straight up, true life details about this policy that could mess up my future."

"I think you broke my boss's brain. She was still stewing when I left. She thought I told you where to find all that and what not. I didn't even know you could find it online. Plus, I didn't know we'd be meeting or that she'd drag you into a personnel matter. She's the worst. And you're literally my hero for beating her down like you did."

"Hey, ya know, she started it. I just finished it."

"You sure did. And how!"

"So…since we're all legal now…"

"Is the magic gone since it's not forbidden?" she laughed.

"Oh, I was gonna say, yeah, I think this may be a mistake. Sorry."

They both giggled.

"I'm free after work on Friday." she suggested.

"Not anymore, you're not. Bring some nice clothes and change when you're done. I'll pick you up after. Just text me when you're about ready?"

"You haven't given me your number, Sy."

"It's in my chart, dork."

"You have to officially give it to me."

"Oh I'll give it to ya, baby." He'd dug deep into the bass part of his register for that one.

"Syyyyy." she groaned.

"Oh, you already know I like it when you say my name."

"I'm being serious right now, what's your damn number or the date is off." She bluffed.

"Not because I believe that idle threat, but because I wanna…give it to ya." he rattled off the number.

"Okay, I'll be texting you with mine. Now, I have work today, so if you text me and don't get an immediate response, you know that's why."

"I'm not your only patient? I'm hurt, Shane."

"I know, that's why you've been coming to therapy for weeks."

"Har-Har, good thing I'm not into you for your sense of humor."

"Good thing I'm not into you for your looks, since 80% of your face is obscured by hair."

"We could go all day like this."

"The stamina." she teased.

"Well, look who joined the game!" he sounded almost proud.

"Don't think I haven't been participating silently for…a while."

"How long?" he inquired

"Isn't that my line?" she laughed at the penis joke she'd just made.

"You'll find out soon enough, and you won't be laughing. How long?"

"Well, you remember your evaluation."

"I do."

"Yeah…then." she bleated, too shy to say so with pride.

"No way! You mean you've liked me all this time too! And haven't said shit!?"

"I had to be professional, Sy! I didn't want to! Damn! You've gotta know how much I didn't want to be professional."

"I'll forgive ya, I guess, lil' lady."

"Merciful of you, sir!" she chuckled. "I'll need to go here soon. Won't be long now until my next one gets here."

"Tease me with a 'sir' then cut me off. Cruel."

"You like 'sir,' huh?" she whispered.

"I do. Yes…I…do."

"Noted. Well, until tomorrow."

"Don't forget to text me. I want you to give it to me too." he chuckled.

"Oh, you're bad."

"But, I'm real, real good sunshine." The deep rich promise in his voice did not go unnoticed.

"Bye Sy."

"Later Shane."

She hung up and texted him immediately. A selfie. He replied in kind. He seemed to be home on his couch, Aika by his side…he was not wearing a shirt…well…this day would be eternal.

Up Next: Chapter Five- Sensory Integration 1

#netflix sand castle #sand castle #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x ofc #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson x ofc

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confrontthefamiliar · 3 years ago

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Full moon in Capricorn // Pisces Neptune in retrograde // Cancer Season

Just like that, my perspective changes. It’s like awakening from a strange dream. I wonder if it’s something in the sky, it feels so real. And then I see the shift – Neptune went retrograde. So, no longer a somnambulist but awakened and homesick, I fly home.

Did you know the moon is full tonight? I ask my sister when she picks me up from the airport. Bad luck, she says. What? No, it’s good luck to travel on the full moon, I say, as if my personal relationship with the moon, my individual matrix can make any meaning for anyone else. I do believe it would make sense to travel on full moons back before there was internet, street lamps, and cars. For some reason I apply that sentiment to today, a time where we can easily travel on our whims without worrying about the moonlight. Am I timeless or nonsensical? I’d like to, at the very least, be poetic about everything.

Henry Miller once wrote to Anais Nin, “For me cancer means the crab – the creature which could move in any direction. It is the sign in the zodiac for the poet – the halfway station in the round of realization. Opposite Cancer in the Zodiac is Capricorn, the house in which I am born, which is religious and represents renaissance in death. Cancer also means for me the disease of civilization, the extreme point of realization along the wrong path – hence the necessity to change one’s course and begin all over again. Cancer then is the apogee of death in life, as Capricorn is of life in death.” And so, in Cancer season, I am ready to begin all over again. I’m suddenly over my latest experiment in masculinity and femininity. Over being dreary about society, I no longer want to plan for the apocalypse. I’d rather welcome a mass shift towards freedom, not survival.

I find myself being fake nice to people on the plane who seem uninteresting and plain – a marine biologist and a director of technology; both apparently unable to offer any fresh insight about anything, both offering up the details of their lives without commentary, without contemplation, just the facts. I am incredibly bored but I act polite, then I wonder whether my politeness inhibits my true self-expression in other avenues as well. When I am inauthentic once, I would be just as likely to exhibit this behavior again. So I stir the pot by being somewhat controversial and I say that I live in the hood of Fort Myers, to see what sort of response I can get. Nothing from the girl and the man begins to tease me in an extremely one-dimensional way. I start to wonder if he’s a robot.

The hummingbird from last summer shows up again at my parents’ house the morning after I arrive. We hang out in the garden and I write in my room and I simmer in all of the magic I left behind last year in this California headquarters of mine, before I gave up my freedom to follow a man, then a cause, then a different man.

Colin Wilson writes, “Dostoyevsky once said that God had denied man certainty because it would remove his freedom; there would be no virtue making the right choice if you knew for certain that it was the right one.” When you commit to a belief, when you become certain, what do you lose and what do you gain? One loses their freedom, their virtue and therefore their connection to god. So I continue on, believing in nothing again but my own freedom, my Self.

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searchingwardrobes · 4 years ago

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Self-Promo Sunday

This story has never been posted to tumblr before, but it’s still to this day my most popular one shot on Ao3 (by both hits and kudos). I still can hardly believe it because when I wrote it, I honestly didn’t think anyone would even read it, much less like it. There are certain expectations for one-night stand fics, and this fulfills none of them. Mainly, there’s no smut. I just loved the concept and had to write it, then was beyond thrilled that other people liked it too!

Summary: Ruby convinces Emma that the best way to finish off her birthday celebration is a one-night stand with the hot British guy at the bar. But, as usual, things never go as Emma plans.

Rating: T

Words: 4k and some change

Also on Ao3

Tagging: @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kmomof4 @let-it-raines @teamhook @bethacaciakay @xhookswenchx @tiganasummertree @shireness-says @stahlop @scientificapricot @welllpthisishappening @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @ilovemesomekillianjones @kday426 @ekr032-blog-blog @lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @nikkiemms @optomisticgirl @carpedzem @ohmakemeahercules @branlovestowrite @superchocovian @sherlockianwhovian @vvbooklady1256 @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @snidgetsafan

People talk about having a voice on either shoulder. Emma Swan has three. In the form of her three best friends. Ruby sees everything through the lens of fun. If it feels good do it, que-sera-sera and all of that. Sometimes Ruby helps Emma get perspective and lighten up. Other times she just gets her into trouble. Then there’s Mary Margaret, the hopeless romantic who thinks that out there somewhere is Emma’s true love, and once fate leads her to him, Emma’s life will just fall into place. Like what Mary Margaret has with David. Mary Margaret’s voice is usually the easiest for Emma to ignore. She stopped believing in fairy tale endings a long time ago. And then there’s Elsa, the practical one. She also just gets Emma because where Emma’s been called prickly, Elsa’s been called cold, so she understands Emma’s walls. But she also cuts to the chase and isn’t afraid to call Emma out on her crap. The only problem is when the words coming out of Elsa’s mouth sound like psycho-babble. So Emma’s constantly got three differing opinions chirping in her ear. Even when they aren’t present because she knows in every situation what each of them would say.

All three of them agreed, however, on the best way for Emma to spend her 28th birthday. So she left Henry with Granny and the four of them headed to New York. After a day of shopping and a Broadway show, they’re now in the hotel bar, and Ruby thinks the perfect way for Emma to cap off the day is with a no-strings attached night of passion with a good-looking guy.

“The last thing someone with Emma’s intimacy issues needs is casual sex, Ruby.”

That was cerebral Elsa, of course.

“Although,” puts in Mary Margaret, “striking up a conversation with someone wouldn’t be such a bad idea. You never know where it might lead.”

“Where could it possibly lead?” argues Elsa. “We’re on vacation. In a different state.”

“Why does it have to lead anywhere?” Ruby asks with a shrug, “I’m just trying to find a guy for her to bang. When was the last time you had sex anyway, Emma?”

Mary Margaret’s and Elsa’s pale cheeks both turn ten shades of red. Elsa is blunt but never crass, and Mary Margaret’s never known any man but David, high school sweethearts and all. Ruby does have a point, however, it’s been . . . well, Henry’s three, so let’s just say it’s been awhile.

“Besides,” Ruby continues, “if you don’t drag that guy over there upstairs, I will. I mean, damn, would you look at him?”

All three of them follow Ruby’s gaze to the bar, not really expecting to be blown away because, honestly, Ruby didn’t get the title man-eater for nothing. But then Emma sees the guy, and – hot damn! – Ruby was right. It’s been awhile since Emma’s jaw has dropped just looking at a guy, but it’s happening now.

“Whoa,” is all Mary Margaret can say. And that’s actually a lot. She usually only has eyes for David.

“I bet he’s an actor on a soap opera,” Ruby giggles, “with a pretty face like that?”

“I wouldn’t call him pretty,” Emma says hoarsely. He exudes too much raw masculinity to be called pretty, not to mention the scruff on his face that gives him an edge of mystery.

“I agree with Emma,” Elsa agrees, “I would guess he’s a musician. Look at those tight jeans and that leather jacket.”

“Oh, I’m looking alright,” Ruby purrs.

The guy glances their way (because he feels their eyes boring into him, most likely), and they all hurriedly look away, except for Ruby who grins wolfishly at him and wiggles her fingers in greeting. But the glance was enough for Emma to see how bright blue his eyes are.

“God, Emma, did you see those eyes?” Ruby asks as she continues to ogle the guy. She smoothes out her skirt and moves to stand. “I’m not letting that man candy go to waste, Emma.”

Emma clamps her hand down on Ruby’s arm. “Now wait just one second. He’s mine.”

Ruby smirks at her in triumph while Mary Margaret encourages her to talk to him and get to know him while Elsa keeps admonishing that the whole thing’s a bad idea. Emma knocks back one more shot, but not to get her tipsy. She needs to have her faculties to read the guy; she’s not stupid. She just needs a shot of liquid courage. Because Ruby’s right – it’s been awhile.

The guy’s not stupid either, he glances over her shoulder when Emma approaches him. He knows full well they were checking him out. But his eyes also rake over her approvingly, and it’s plain as day he’s happy that she approached him. When he opens his mouth, a British accent comes out. The next chance she gets, she glances back over at Ruby and mouths, “Oh. My. God.” Then she composes herself, smooths out her hair, and dials up the flirting. Their banter is laced with innuendo and contains absolutely no personal content, which is exactly how Emma likes her one night stands. It only takes one more drink for him to have her pressed against the wall in the elevator. God, he’s a good kisser!

They giggle and stumble down the hall to Emma’s room, unable to keep their hands off each other. The door has barely shut behind them when he has her on the bed, trailing open-mouthed kisses down her neck.

Emma doesn’t know exactly what happens. One minute she’s moaning as he kisses along her décolletage, and the next he’s sliding the zipper down the side of her too-tight dress and the action is like a bucket of cold water being dumped on her. He gasps and pulls away from her, feeling it too. They both look at each other with wide, panicked eyes and then speak simultaneously.

“I can’t do this.”

He groans and rolls over onto the bed, flinging his arm across his face. They’re both lying there panting as their heart rates work to get back to a normal rhythm. When they speak again, it’s at the exact same time.

“I have a son.”

“I have a daughter.”

And then they’re both laughing at the absurdity of the situation. They both roll over to face each other, and Emma realizes neither of them are as drunk as they had been pretending to be. Emma props her head on her hand.

“I used to do this all the time. But then I had Henry, and well . . .he’s three.”

He smiles back at her in understanding. “I used to do this all the time, too. But then I met my wife, and then she died, and now it’s just me and Haley . . . she’s five.”

He stares at her for a moment, then sighs and stands up. “Well, I’ll be going then.” He says it in such a sad, resigned voice that it breaks Emma’s heart a little. He picks his jacket up off the floor where Emma had pushed it off his shoulders. But before he can put it back on and walk out the door, Emma grabs his hand. She’s hearing Mary Margaret in her head. You understand each other! That’s got to mean something.

“You don’t have to go,” she tells him. “We could watch TV, get room service.” Emma bites her lip, nervous she’s pushed too far.

“Seriously? Because usually when I mention my dead wife and my daughter, women are halfway out the door.”

Emma shrugs and gives him a smile, “Men usually do the same when I mention my son. Please stay. I want you to.”

“Okay then,” he says, smiling so brightly she can now see he has dimples. He tosses his jacket on the back of a chair. “My name’s Killian, by the way. Killian Jones.”

“Emma Swan.”

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

Emma wakes up the next morning in Killian’s arms, but not because they changed their minds about the sex. They’re both still fully clothed. Okay, maybe not fully. Killian’s in only his boxers and his white v-necked undershirt, and Emma is in a t-shirt and yoga pants. Still, they only did two things last night – well, three if you count eating way too much candy from the mini-bar, and sex wasn’t one of them.

The first was just talk; they never did turn on the TV. Emma would have kicked him out or tackled him in exchange for mindless sex instead if it hadn’t been for Elsa’s practical voice in her head. This is good, Emma. This is healthy. Amazingly, she told him all about her years growing up in foster care. Far more than she had ever told anyone else. But it’s because Killian, it turns out, is an orphan too and has his own tragic stories to tell. At age 13 his brother Liam became old enough to be his guardian, and then he had some semblance of a family.

She tells him how she started sleeping around at fifteen, craving intimacy while fearing it at the same time. She admits that she has no idea who Henry’s father is; even if she could narrow down the guy, she wouldn’t know his name. Her eyes drop to the mattress at that, but Killian tilts her chin up to look at him. She sees in his eyes that he understands.

He tells Emma how he idolized his brother. So much so that he followed him into the Navy, only to lose him. It’s then that he went off the deep end with liquor and women. He was in a band, too, so one-night stands had been easy to come by. Milah, his wife, owned a pub where his band played frequently. Even though she watched him go home with different women every night, she still fell madly in love with him, and he with her. When Milah got pregnant, he gave up the band, but they were so blissfully happy. Haley was only a year old when Milah got sick – stage five breast cancer. Six months later, Milah was gone and Killian was alone with an 18 month old baby.

“Haley’s my whole world,” he tells her then, and Emma looks up at him with tenderness in her eyes.

“And Henry is mine.”

Killian leans down and kisses her then, and it’s the most tender kiss Emma has ever known.

So here they are, morning, and Emma is curled up against him, her head on his chest. She thinks he’s still asleep until his hand starts rubbing her arm. Killian’s touch has heat that lights her on fire from the inside, which reminds her of the other thing they did last night: make out like a couple of teenagers. Even though he can’t see her face right now, she blushes as she remembers the moans just light petting had elicited from her. It’s then that reality hits Emma like a Mac truck: what they shared last night was far more intimate than mere sex would have been. She can hear Elsa’s voice in her head: Queue the panic. And sure enough, it comes. Emma takes a few deep breaths before slipping as calmly as she can from his embrace. He’s leaving for London this morning. She’s leaving for Storybrooke. It’s not like this can go anywhere, but she still doesn’t want to hurt his feelings.

“Hey,” he says sleepily, grabbing her hand as she eases from the bed, “how about some breakfast.”

“Oh, um, I’m actually meeting my friends for breakfast,” Emma explains as she shrugs into a hoodie. She stands there regarding him awkwardly, tucking her hair behind her ears and crossing her arms across her chest. It isn’t a lie; she really is supposed to meet the others at nine before driving back to Storybrooke.

“Okay,” Killian replies easily as he stands and pulls his jeans back on. He then reaches for the hotel pad of paper and pen on the bedside table and jots something down on it. He rips off the top sheet and hands it to her.

“My contact information,” he explains with a lopsided grin. His gaze is both gentle and sincere as he continues in a softer voice, “I really like you, Emma. Since we didn’t do anything stupid, I’m hoping we can stay in touch. I mean, this wasn’t just a one-time thing. Not for me, at least.”

Emma gives him a tentative smile as she takes the piece of paper and crams it unceremoniously into the pocket of her hoodie. Killian’s gaze follows her movement, and the light in his eyes dims.

“Well,” he says, scratching behind his ear, “I’ll take my leave, then.”

He shrugs into his shirt without buttoning it up, then heads for the door with his jacket and shoes still in his hand. Emma lets her head fall backward in frustration at herself.

“Killian, wait,” Emma calls after him.

He turns in the doorway, and Emma just stands there, unsure of what exactly she can say. Finally, when he raises his eyebrows at her in confusion, she decides that if she’s never going to see him again, at least she can get one last kiss. So she grabs the gaping lapels of his unbuttoned shirt and hauls him in. He gasps in shock at first, dropping his jacket and shoes with a thud. But he quickly catches up, kissing her back thoroughly until both their lips are swollen. She thinks again that he’s the most fantastic kisser she’s ever met.

When they finally part, breathless, Killian rests his forehead against hers and thumbs the dimple in her chin. “I could fall in love with you, Emma Swan,” he whispers, his eyes still closed. He opens them before Emma can look away and she feels as if she’ll drown in the deep blue of those eyes. He traces her cheek with his fingertips, “But you won’t let me, will you? You’re going to throw away my contact information, aren’t you?”

Killian’s hand drops away and he sighs as Emma remains silent. He bends to retrieve his things, and with a whispered good-bye, walks away from her door.

“I could fall in love with you too, Killian,” she whispers to his retreating form.

But she doubts he heard her.

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

“So he spent the night in your room – the entire night – but you didn’t sleep with him?” Ruby hisses across the table, half-eaten bagel still in her hand.

“Well, technically, we slept,” Emma responds wryly.

“But no sex? Seriously?” Ruby tears a piece from her bagel violently, but pauses before putting the piece in her mouth as a revelation seems to hit her, “Wait, is he gay?”

“No, he is definitely not gay,” Emma states emphatically, feeling infantile when she blushes.

“So what did you do all night?” Ruby asks incredulously.

“We talked mostly,” Emma says with a shrug, “and . . . other things.”

“What other things?” Elsa asks.

“God, Elsa,” Emma says with a roll of her eyes, “do I have to spell it out for you? We made out.”

Ruby reaches for the collar of Emma’s button-down flannel shirt, exposing the black and blue mark on her neck. “A hickey!” Ruby exults, “He gave her a hickey!”

“Quiet down, Rubes,” Emma hisses as she re-adjusts her collar, “what is this, high school?”

“So what did you guys talk about?” Mary Margaret asks eagerly. Only she would be more interested in the conversation.

Emma shrugs again as she spreads jam on a piece of toast, “You know, just stuff. Our childhoods. Our kids. We talked a lot about our kids.”

“He has kids?” asks Ruby with a wrinkled nose.

“Yes, Ruby,” Emma snaps, “kids. Which is probably why we thought twice about having sex with someone we just met.”

Ruby’s eyes grow large, “How many does he have?”

Emma drops her knife with a clatter, frustrated at Ruby’s inquisition, “Just one. A five year old daughter. His wife died three and a half years ago of cancer.”

“Oh, Emma,” Mary Margaret breathes, “he sounds wonderful! And it’s so romantic that you stayed up all night just kissing and talking. What a gentleman! I hope you’ll stay in touch.”

Emma shakes her head, “He wanted to. Gave me his information. But I threw it away.”

Mary Margaret gasps in shock, and even Ruby thinks she’s crazy, but Elsa is the cold voice of reason.

“I think Emma is wise to break it off now. He’s a grieving widower with a child. Emma has a child of her own. Not to mention that long-distance relationships never work.”

“What was he doing in New York?” Mary Margaret asks, ignoring Elsa’s cold logic.

“A job interview,” Emma answers, “he didn’t really get into the details.”

“See,” Mary Margaret tells Elsa smugly.

“See what?” Elsa scoffs with a roll of her eyes. “It’s still long-distance. Emma needs to use her head.”

“She needs to follow her heart,” argues Mary Margaret.

“I was thinking of an organ a little farther south,” quips Ruby.

“And I would appreciate you all dropping the entire subject,” Emma huffs in frustration.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret whispers urgently, “there he is!”

Emma glances behind her, and sure enough, Killian is sitting at a table on the other side of the room. He’s perusing the menu, so he hasn’t noticed her yet. Emma quickly turns back around.

“Yep,” Ruby says with a nod, “just as hot as I remembered.”

Elsa narrows her eyes as she takes him in, “Actually, Emma, on second thought, maybe using your head in this situation isn’t the best course of action.”

Mary Margaret nudges Emma’s arm, “Go on, go talk to him. Give him your number!”

Emma stands quickly, hands shaking, and tosses some bills onto the table. “That should cover my order. I’ll see you all in Storybrooke.”

Emma then walks as quickly as she can for the hotel exit, ignoring her friends protests. She purposely keeps her head forward, not wanting to see the look of hurt in Killian’s eyes as she walks away. Or the look of indifference.

She isn’t sure which would be worse. Either way, it’s why she doesn’t turn around.

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

A week later, Emma is enjoying her favorite lunch of grilled cheese and onion rings at Granny’s. The buzz around town is that Mayor Mills finally hired a new harbor master, and whoever it is just rolled into town in a black extended cab truck with just a few suitcases and boxes in the back. The type of vehicle combined with the small amount of personal effects has every single woman in town speculating that it’s a bachelor. Emma just rolls her eyes at the gossip. The only thing she cares about is how the harbor master does his or her job, since it directly affects hers as sheriff.

Emma is licking the last drop of cheese from her pinkie finger when a little girl scrambles onto the stool next to her. She’s wearing a tunic shirt covered in daisies over a pair of yellow leggings. Disney princess shoes adorn her feet, the kind that light up when you walk. She has to kneel on the stool so she can reach the counter.

“One chocolate milkshake please,” the little girl tells Granny in an adorable British accent.

Emma and Granny both raise their eyes, looking around the diner for the child’s parents. Emma catches Granny’s eye, and the older woman nods.

“You’re a little young to be ordering all by yourself,” Emma says gently, tipping her head so she can look the child in the eye. “How old are you, kid?”

“Would you believe ten?”

Emma suppresses a chuckle and shakes her head.

“Eight?” the child sighs as Emma once again shakes her head. “Okay, I’m five.”

Emma nods. She wants to get information, and she knows the best way to do that is to play it cool, “So where are your parents?”

The little girl sighs, bites her lip, and then leans closer to Emma, “Okay, see, my dad said we would come here for lunch today. I want a milkshake, but Dad always says no. That I have to eat my lunch first. But I don’t want lunch. Can’t the milkshake be my lunch?”

"So you got here early so you could have the milkshake before he saw you.”

The little girl’s face brightens, and when she smiles dimples appear on her freckled cheeks. “Exactly!”

Emma leans forward, “The problem is, I’m a mom, so I’m not going to let you either.”

The little girl scowls and crosses her arms, “But you’re not my mum.”

“But you do need money, kid,” Granny tells the child gruffly.

The little girl swivels on her stool to face Granny, reaching smugly into the pocket of her tunic. She pulls out a ten dollar bill with a flourish and smacks it down onto the counter. “Will that cover it?”

Emma’s hand flies to her mouth as she suppresses her laughter. This kid is the most precocious, sassy little thing she’s ever seen. Once Emma has composed herself, she leans over the counter towards the child and speaks to her sternly. “You know what else I am besides a mom, kid? The sheriff of this town.” The little girl’s eyes grow large. “Where did you get that money?”

The child quirks one dark eyebrow and tilts her chin defiantly. “My allowance.”

“I’m gonna let you in on a little secret, kid. I have this gift – we’ll call it a super power – I can tell when people are lying to me. So I’ll ask you again. Where’d you get the money?”

The little girl sighs and lowers her head, “My dad’s wallet.”

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Haley.”

Emma feels as if the room is suddenly spinning. She blinks and looks the little girl over. Dark hair, bright blue eyes, British accent. It couldn’t be . . .

“Haley Elizabeth Jones!” another British voice calls out from the door of the diner. Emma’s jaw drops as Killian Jones himself rushes towards her. But he doesn’t even see Emma, too intent on his little girl who he hugs tightly to his chest. “Bloody hell, lass, you just took ten years off my life! Never, never, wander away like that!”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Haley mumbles against Killian’s neck as she throws her little arms around him. Killian pulls away and looks her over, running a hand over his little girl’s hair and over her shoulder as if she might be hurt. Haley sheepishly takes the ten dollar bill and hands it to him. “I took the money from your wallet, too. I’m sorry. The sheriff lady caught me.”

Killian finally turns towards Emma then and blinks rapidly as if he’s seen a ghost. “Swan?”

“Killian,” Emma breathes, her hand fluttering to the pale mark still on her neck. The way they’re grinning at each other like idiots and blushing like fools, you would think they had actually had sex. “What are you – what are you doing here?”

“I got the job,” he explains, “the one I was telling you about.”

“You mean, you’re the new harbor master?” Killian nods and Emma shakes her head in confusion. “But your interview was in New York.”

“Mayor Mills had some business there anyway, and she thought travel would be easier for me from London. I thought the change would be good for Haley. Living in a small town and all.”

They just stand there staring at each other until Haley pipes up. “The sheriff says she’s a mum too, Daddy,” Haley takes Emma’s hands in hers and looks at them intently. “But she doesn’t have a wedding ring. Are you married, sheriff lady?”

“No, sweetie,” Emma says with a mirthful smile, “I’m not married.”

“That’s great! My daddy isn’t married either, and I need a mum!”

“Okaaaay,” Killian chuckles nervously as he scoops Haley up into his arms. He turns to Emma blushing furiously, “I’m gonna get this lass home. And then I’m gonna dig myself a really deep hole and crawl into it.”

He scratches behind his ear with his free hand as he turns towards the door, still carrying Haley. Mary Margaret’s voice is suddenly in Emma’s head, chirping on about fate and destiny, which propels Emma off her stool.

“Killian, wait.”

He turns towards her, that lopsided grin of his on his face.

“I know how it is unpacking. I was thinking Henry and I could stop by later with a couple of pizzas.”

“I appreciate that, Ms. Swan. That’s very hospitable of you.”

Okay, she’s going to have to be far more direct. “I was hoping Henry and I could eat with the two of you. We could consider it our second unconventional date.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners as his smile widens. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Emma says, smiling back, “this thing we started; may as well see where it goes, right?”

Hope sparkles in Killian’s eyes. “Right. See you tonight, Swan.”

Behind the counter, Granny can’t hold her laughter back any longer when Haley pumps her little fist into the air and crows, “YES! I’m getting a mum!”

It turns out the little girl was right. Eight months later, Haley Jones has a mum and Henry Swan Jones has a dad. Turns out Mary Margaret was right all along: there’s nothing hopeless about being a romantic.

#cs ff #self promos sunday #cs modern au #single parent emma #single parent killian #one night stand #sort of

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