#i was going to work on more drafts but instead i just sat here seething in my rage the Second i thought about the last arc again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

palbabor-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Look Upon the Light

(Chapter 8: Terrify)

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Adult language, angst, general melancholy

Word Count: 7765

“I know who you are.”

Shigaraki lifts your console up, turning it this way and that, ignoring your declaration. “The facing got knocked off,” he states, his four fingered grasp lifting it up for you to see. His eyes catch yours, the crimson ensnaring you. “I don’t think it’s going to fit back on. Lucky you, you don’t really need it to operate the machine.”

His pinky comes down against the plastic, joining the rest of his finger pads. The plating is gone in an instant, dissolving into a fine dust and drifting to the mats beneath Shigaraki’s feet.

Moving to Japan has been an absolutely terrible life choice.

Notes: Not beta edited, so any and all mistakes are mine and mine alone.

Chapter 1: Encounter || Chapter 2: Observe || Chapter 3: Hello || Chapter 4: Intoxicate || Chapter 5: Taste || Chapter 6: Teeth || Chapter 7: Polaroid ||

Terrify ter·ri·fy /ˈterəˌfī/ verb cause to feel extreme fear.

In hindsight, you should have known. It was too quiet.

The moments that stretched between Tomura’s visits narrowed and shrank. You’d come to expect him whenever you walked into your living room, your bedroom, your kitchen. He stuck to your ribs, pulled at you, wordlessly asking you to stay close. You’d wake to his warmth, his touch, the reds and whites blurring together.

Despite these moments of tranquility, he was tense. Thrumming with an energy that made you shake.

It was dangerous.

But, you’d always known that, even if you pretended that the tiger at your door was as gentle as a kitten. Something was closing in. It felt like the calm before a storm, the air pulling back and pushing forward, misting over the pliant ground.

Neither of you acknowledged it.

Like the best ghost, it only made its presence known in the chill of pre-dawn. Slipping over your sleeping bodies and seeping into your skin, slowly tarnishing, rusting out.

You wake one morning to see Tomura leaning over you. He isn’t touching and is barely breathing, his exhales coming out in little puffs of air. His eyes rake over you like coals, smoldering as they set you aflame.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, voice heavy with sleep. He doesn’t answer, just continues his silent introspection. There it is again, that creeping sensation that’s been nagging at you. You don’t question him further. Instead, you roll toward him, pressing your cold hands into his warmth.

Something unspoken has been drifting above the two of you for weeks. You knew that you could give it a voice. But, you were unsure if he could. You wanted to tell him about it, to make it solid by speaking it into existence, but you didn’t know how he would react to your declaration. And provoking an unknown reaction out of Tomura was never a wise move.

Did you even need it to be said when you’d already accepted it as fact? You loved him.

And, he loved you. You knew that, you’d never doubted that. His walls had come crumbling down with yours and Tomura was nothing if not passionate and possessive. He couldn’t help himself. He might disguise it as something else, tell himself that it was another thing he was entitled to, but you knew the truth. You clutched at it, keeping it safe, holding it to you so he could never tear it away. Even if he left, even if you never saw him again, you would keep that small piece of him.

You could feel that love when he came to you like this. He would soften, his voice and touches lingering, tender. He wouldn’t let you go. Insisting that you hold onto him, that you come to him. He was at his most desperate in these moments.

Running your hands along his bare legs you look back up at his face. He is leaning closer, practically bent in half as his hair trails against you.

“Come here,” you whisper, arms lifting to pull against his neck. He doesn’t resist and you tug him back to you, trying to leech some of his warmth. He lays his head against your breasts, his low breathing making you shiver. Your hands tangle in his white hair, cascading the tendrils against your palms.

His eyes finally drift closed as the sun peeks playfully against your curtains. You should get up, but you can’t bring yourself to leave him alone in the bed. Burrowing against his slackened form, you fall blissfully into sleep, content to let your whirling anxieties still.

******

It was the little things that tripped the two of you up.

He’d been careful, and you’d been protective of his presence, keeping your movements to a minimum. But, it had always been a matter of time. He wasn’t infallible and you, well, you couldn’t stop time.

At first, the extra patrols made you feel at ease, especially when you were returning to your apartment late. There was a new hero in the area and she seemed determined to make a name for herself. Although you had never run into her, the shops and local papers were chock full of her name. She had brought along two sidekicks, kids really, but between the three of them, the crime rates had steadily decreased.

Then, you remembered what Tomura had told you once, “Guess this prefecture isn’t important enough for any hero to deem it worth their while…I doubt anyone will notice a villain respawning in the vicinity.” Now, the patrols just made you jumpy and you couldn’t help but worry for him each time he stepped out your door.

Tomura became even more inscrutable as the days wore on. He was practically seething, a deep rage bubbling over him and tipping, spreading. It tainted his voice, his movements. However, he was careful to not take his brittle aggression out on you.

No, he was never rough with you, at least, unless you wanted him to be. But, that was a different sort of dynamism he would retreat into. And it was one that you welcomed. Often, it could pull him from the brink of his restlessness.

Even with the distractions, Tomura was still on edge. He’d always worn his emotions in his eyes and body language. You could map every inch of him now and that power never brought reassurance. You didn’t question his anger.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to, you just knew that it was a part of him. It sat against his heart, beating in tandem with the muscle. But, it wasn’t his budding aggression that set things in motion.

Instead, something more insidious crept in.

******

A knock at your door startles you, your pen dragging against the drafting paper, an unseemly line etched across the design. Shit. You look at your phone. Although Tomura didn’t text every time he came by, he usually kept his travels to and from your apartment to odd hours, like pre-dawn, or the dead of night. According to your device, it’s just after noon. No, something isn’t right…

The knocking comes again, louder, insistent.

You stand, gulping down your shaking nerves. It could be nothing, you tell yourself as you walk to the door, your feet padding against the wood, just calm down, (Y/N).

Two men stand outside your doorway. They are wearing professional, dark suits and they look like bad fucking news.

“Miss (L/N)?” the shorter one asks, removing his hat and bowing to you.

“Y-yes,” you stammer, your heart beating tightly against your chest.

“I’m Detective Ito and this is Detective Yamashita,” he gestures briefly to the taller man, who gives you a cursory bow. “Sorry to bother you during the work day, but we have a few questions for you. Do you mind if we come in?” his voice is liquid and you distrust it immediately.

“Right now? I’m in the middle of a project, is there any way I can get a card and possibly meet with you later?” You try to make yourself stand up straight, projecting a calming lull over your tone. Come on, (Y/N), you’re not bothered by this, if anything you’ve been preparing for this. Handle them and don’t let anything slip, you have nothing to hide. Except for the villain who haunts your bed. No, don’t think that. You’ve got this...

“I’m sorry Miss (L/N),” the taller gentlemen, Detective Yamashita, presses, stepping toward you. “It can’t. This concerns some delicate information and we need to make sure we can clear you. While you’re not being accused of anything,” he amends, catching sight of your narrowed eyes, “we do need to make sure we’re covering our bases.”

“And my rights as an American citizen?” you press, holding your ground. You have a feeling it will be a null point, but it’s worth a shot.

“I’m afraid your visa doesn’t grant you any special privileges. Now, I’ll ask you again, may we come in? Or, do we need to come back with something a little more…stringent?” He lets the final word hang, a warning. Detective Yamashita is clearly playing the role of bad cop in this little interrogation, that’s not an interrogation. Yeah, right.

You pause, biting your lip, thinking. If you push back, then you might find yourself in more hot water, besides, as far as you can tell, you aren’t under arrest. That means they don’t have anything concrete, for the time being.

You bow, “I apologize gentlemen, I don’t mean to be rude, I just don’t understand what two detectives could possibly want to question me about. Please, come in.”

They seem placated by this response and follow you into your living room. You offer them a seat on your couch and bring your work stool around to sit in front of them, hands folded in your lap. Here’s hoping the demure act will work in your favor…

“It’s no problem Miss (Y/N), I know you haven’t been in Japan long. I’m sure it’s unsettling to see us. Now, before we proceed, would you please show us your U.S. passport, work visa and residence card?”

You nod, keeping your face neutral as you gather your paperwork, holding them out to Detective Ito, who takes a small flashlight to them, scanning for any forgeries. Satisfied, he hands them back, a small smile on his lips. Still doing that good cop routine, you think irritatedly, tossing the papers on your media stand.

“We’ve heard that you’ve found a boyfriend while you’ve been here,” detective Yamashita pries, crossing his legs and leaning toward you. “Where is he?”

“Not sure I’d call him that, he’s more of an acquaintance. He lives in another city,” you lie. Keep things simple and to the point, don’t supply anything you don’t mean to.

“Which one?”

“Esuha City,” you reply, keeping your eyes on the detectives.

“Your landlady said he has very distinctive features,” Detective Yamashita pauses, writing something down. Then, his eyes lift, waiting. He’s not going to let you slip past this query.

“What do you mean?” you ask, your head tilting questioningly.

“She said he had white hair.”

You tap at your chin, pretending to think. “Oh, I believe he did. He dyes it a lot.”

“What color is it now?”

“Not sure, I haven’t seen him in a while.” Well, you think snidely, that one is partially true, it had been about a few days since you’d last seen Tomura.

“A co-worker of yours, Mr. Suzuki, also mentioned something interesting about your, er, friend,” Detective Ito pipes up, and you arch an eyebrow at him, not answering, holding back.

“He said that he acted strangely when he came by. Apparently, he was very aggressive. Mr. Suzuki said he felt threatened.”

It’s really shitty luck that interaction has come back to bite you. “Oh,” you feign remembrance, “well, my co-worker, Mr. Suzuki, had decided to walk into my apartment unannounced and without knocking. Naturally, I thought he might have been a burglar. I’m sure my landlady has told you that my unit has been burglarized before?”

“She did,” Detective Yamashita replies, his eyes finally drifting away from yours. “While this might be a long shot, we would like for you to look at some pictures.” He snaps open his briefcase and pulls a collection of images out, pressing them into your hands.

You can feel them both eyeing you carefully as you shift through the images. Some of them are Tomura, some are others, and most are blurry. You lift one curiously. It’s the image of a man standing on a train platform in a dark trench coat. Squinting, you try to see the station name. You can just make out the lettering, Musutafu Station. It’s the one that is close to UA. Taking another look over the others you see the same station tiles, your heart feels like it’s floating away.

Maybe they really are just checking leads, they do seem a bit bumbling, but that could also be an act. Something that makes you drop your guard, something that could put both you and Tomura in danger.

“No, I’m sorry. Although,” you tug out one of the pictures that is not Tomura, “this one looks a little familiar. I just can’t think where I’ve seen them before…”

“That’s the League of Villain’s leader,” Detective Ito provides, and Detective Yamashita glares at him, his eyes darkening.

“Oh! God, is that who you’re looking for?” you ask, eyes wide.

“We’ve been canvassing the area, asking questions of some of the locals. A girl in downtown Tokyo thought she saw him the other day, like I said, just covering our bases.” Detective Yamashita admits, taking the pictures from you.

“But, that doesn’t explain how I ended up in your investigation. Is it because my friend had white hair? I mean, not to be rude, but that feels, vague…”

“Since Shigaraki was seen near the train, we traced other CCTV cameras in the station. We noticed that someone similar to his description was seen exiting at this station, as well as several stops in Tokyo a few months ago. Your, uh, friend, as of now, fits a similar description. We’re just checking the area for anyone who has been in contact with persons similar to Shigaraki.”

“So, no recent sightings?” You opt to ignore that last bit of information, it would make more sense for you to be worried about the bigger picture.

“It’s terrifying to think that a villain might be lurking around. After the burglary, I really considered moving to another complex. I was hoping that that new hero would turn things around.” You duck your head, trying your best to look flustered and scared. They aren’t hard emotions to reach for, given the circumstances.

“He hasn’t been seen in a while, ma’m, please, don’t worry,” Detective Ito says encouragingly, earning him another glare from Detective Yamashita.

“I just, I don’t understand something, why talk with my co-worker?” you ask, your voice low.

They're hiding something. Suzuki could have reported his minor encounter with Tomura to the police, or maybe these men approached him. It was frustrating and frightening. It’s something so small, such a tiny slip in time. You’d honestly forgotten about Suzuki’s visit, so much had happened since then. But now, thanks to Suzuki’s report, there are detectives sitting in your living room. There’s no way you can plausibly deny Tomura’s presence in your apartment. Both Suzuki and the apartment manager had seen him.

“We have reason to believe that he might have-” Detective Ito is cut off by Detective Yamashita’s throat clearing, a rasping sound that reverberates in your small apartment. You gulp, pulling yourself from your musing, your hands fidgeting in your lap.

“Ito, please. I’m sorry ma’am, we aren’t able to give that information out at this time. At present, we have no further questions for you Miss (L/N), but, before we go, do you mind if we take a quick look around?”

“Um, of course,” you smile weakly. What else could you do? The more you resisted, the more suspicious you looked. Your stomach drops as they stand and you feel like you are going to be sick.

These detectives knew about Tomura, there’s no way they didn’t. They might be checking now, but they’ll be back. And the next time they might not…

No, you can’t think about that right now. Just go along with what they want and get them out of here. You can figure out a plan of action when they’re gone.

The detectives are already pacing around the rest of the living room when you finally stand from your seat. Thankfully, this part of their investigation should be easy.

The most Tomura ever kept at your place was the two pairs of sweatpants that you’d bought him and those you can easily explain away. You’d also kept your food purchases to a minimum. Lately, he hadn’t been eating much of anything, so you’d saved on the grocery bill. Thank God for that.

Overall, your apartment looks like it just housed you.

The two detectives putter around for a few minutes, opening drawers, examining shelves and closets. They even peek in your bedroom, but Detective Ito had practically closed the door on Detective Yamashita’s nose when he poked into the dark room. The smaller detective shook his head, aghast at the very thought of entering something so feminine and private. And odd reluctance, for a man who called himself a detective.

Concluding their search, they head back to your front door and you trudge after them, feeling numb.

“Well, Miss (L/N), thank you for your time,” Detective Yamashita bows, followed closely by his compatriot. “If you hear or see anything out of the ordinary, please, don’t hesitate to give us a call. We’d also like to hear from your…friend if he drops by again.”

“Of course,” you demure, bowing back, praying that this is about to end.

“Have a pleasant day, we’ll be in touch.” Detective Ito grins and the two men make their way to the next apartment floor, their feet heavy against the carpet. Once your door is shut you fall down into the floor of your genkan, your heart pounding and hands shaking. Oh God, you have to…Wait, should you text him? You’re not using his name on your phone, but what if they’re already tracing it? Can they do that?

You pull yourself to your feet, your legs wobbly, and drag yourself back to your drafting desk, snatching up your phone. Your fingers tremble as you type in your message. You don’t know if you should put it in some kinda vague, coded wording, or if you should just toss the damn phone out the window and resort to smoke signals. Damn it.

[You: 1:13 pm]

Hey, some men came over. They were asking questions.

Well, it certainly doesn’t seem like a vague text, you think, looking over the message and hitting send. No, it looks like it’s screaming that you’re harboring Tomura Shigaraki. You move to your floor, back braced against the wall, waiting. It might be hours before he texts back. But, you didn’t want him coming over and then finding himself immediately captured by the police.

You bury your face in your hands, a low groan wracking out of your lips. Worst case, he won’t answer at all and all you’d have left of him are memories, not even realizing that they were the last interactions that the two of you would share.

The sudden vibration of your phone snaps you out of your head, and your hands shake so badly they send the device skittering across your mats. You tumble after it, lifting the screen and breathing a sigh of relief. He answered.

[Tenko: 1:23 pm]

5-2 Kusunokicho 7-chome

It’s an address. You highlight the text, hit copy, and paste it into the mapping app on your phone. It looks like it’s a tea shop. You stand, legs still trembling, and grab your purse and jacket, heading for your door. You poke your head out, into the hallway, and gather your strength. If you are going to do this, you need to look natural. Besides, if they are following you, hopefully Tomura would know what to do.

You gulp as you lock your door behind you, a morbid thought jumping into your mind. Well, here’s hoping that knowing what to do didn’t mean killing anyone.

******

The tea shop is busy. It’s raining, so that might have contributed to the bustle inside the shop. You pull the hood of your jacket higher, trying to shield your face from the freezing droplets. Tomura hadn’t texted again and you didn’t feel like it would be a good idea to ping your location on your phone.

In fact, you think belatedly, you might as well switch it off. As you power the device down, you hear a low whistle from the alleyway across the narrow street.

You turn your head slowly, the rain pattering against your face. There is a figure loitering toward the back. It isn’t distinguishable as anything other than dark. Well, fingers crossed you aren’t about to be murdered.

Splashing across the street you duck down the alleyway, thankful you’d thrown on some heavy boots for this excursion. The figure is stationary and you pause a few feet back, waiting. He lowers his hood, red eyes still focused on the street behind you. You almost run to him. You have to tense your legs to resist the temptation, your nails digging into your palms.

“Were you followed?” he rasps, watchful, his eyes flashing at you, the street, and finally, back to you. You shake your head.

You’d taken a route similar to the one you’d transversed when you came to the clinic to drop off the diagram for that prosthetic. Each time you’d switched trains or busses you had discretely studied the faces around you, looking for any repeats, anyone who might be tracking you. You’d even drifted into a few other shops before reaching this street, often ducking out a back door and taking the alleys to the next street over.

You’d been careful, you just hoped it was enough.

“This way, stay alert,” Tomura murmurs, his hands still firmly in his pockets. He leads you down another street and into a smaller back alley. He’s doing his own weaving now, taking you over some of the pathways twice, his eyes always peering over his shoulder, observant and sharp. Finally, he pauses in front of a dilapidated door and shoves his way inside.

“Come on,” he calls back to you, holding the door open, allowing some space for you to slink past him. He follows, yanking the metal closed, sealing you both inside.

You shrink back against the darkness, your eyes struggling to adjust. You can hear Tomura moving toward you, his breathing a low scratch against the silence. He stops at your side, the warmth of his body close.

Neither of you move for a time. You’re both listening. The only sounds you can make out is the rain and your own heartbeat. You close your eyes, your head thumping against the door. “God,” you whisper, your voice thick with disuse.

The sound makes Tomura shift closer, his arms pulling you to him, away from the cold metal. He presses a quick kiss against your temple and tugs you further into the room.

It looks abjectly barren.

There’s an old mattress in one corner and a smattering of trash, mostly cans and takeout containers, strewn over the greasy floorboards. It looks like it’s operating as his bedroom and the thought makes your heart squeeze. It’s fucking disgusting. No wonder he used you as a place to crash in the beginning. No human should live like this.

He flops down to sit on the mattress and pulls you after him. The two of you perch on the uneven surface and you let out a long sigh, overwhelmed. Tomura senses this and doesn’t press you. He lets you catch your breath, welcoming your leaning touch. Once you’ve shaken off your jitters, you begin.

“They were detectives. They said they saw you at a Tokyo station, so they checked CCTV and traced you to the stop by my apartment.” Tomura is silent and you gather your breath to continue.

“They talked with the landlady and they talked with that idiot coworker of mine, you know, the one who tried to come in the apartment that one night. It was vague shit, I tried my best to ask more than I talked.

One detective kept trying to get the other to stop telling me details. He finally shut down the whole thing, saying they’d be in touch and for me to give them a call if I saw anything. I…I just hope this doesn’t fuck things up for you, for-for us…I don’t...goddamn it…” You bury your face in your arms, a sob stuttering from you.

Tomura is quiet, but he pulls you into his lap, arms wrapping around your quaking shoulders.

******

He isn’t sure what he wants.

It’s not a sensation he experiences often and he’s finding it hard to grapple with. If he’s thinking selfishly, he would keep you with him. He’d drag you to hell and back if he could. He doesn’t want to give you up and he isn’t even sure if he can. A deep welling of possessiveness had overtaken him. You were his, just as he was yours.

It was strange to admit that.

He wanted to break everything to pieces, to decay it into nothingness, but, over the last few months, he’d come to adjust those goals. Not just with you, no, the same leniency applied to this league of his. They should have what they wanted, too.

So, he let you cry against him.

He wants to know what giving is like. To tell you that he could give you something of his. After all, he’d stripped you down to nothingness, taking and taking until you had finally lain bare and open in front of him. You’d started the process naturally, giving coming as easily to you as breathing.

He knew he didn’t want you around the league.

You were too different, too removed from that sense of desperation and fanatical idealism. And you didn’t deserve it. He doesn’t like seeing you in a place like this, dilapidated and crushed, sobbing against his chest, your warm tears soaking into his skin.

No, you deserved to be comfortable. You weren’t a fighter. You would try if he asked, he knew you would. But it wasn’t you. Besides, what did you want?

He would have to let you go. He’d known it from the first moment he’d felt your lips running across his. Still, it had come too soon. Perhaps that could be his gift to you? Letting you settle back into normality.

******

“What should I do?” You ask him, lifting your head from his chest, eyes puffy and tired. His gaze is clouded, the red murky, unfocused.

“Whatever you want,” he says, his voice hollow.

“Tomura,” you admonish, “I...I just don’t want you falling into some trap. Not because of this stupid…I don’t even know what to call it. I thought we were careful...I-I don’t know. I’m just so fucking mad.”

He smiles at your outburst, his scar lilting up. “What do you want to do?” He presses his forehead against yours, exhaling heavily, waiting for your answer.

“Move,” you reply, tipping your fingers up to trace along his jaw.

“Then move, it should be easy for you to get back to the U.S.”

You sigh, pulling your head back. “No, I don’t want to do that. I just mean, move somewhere that’s safe for-”

“The league is regrouping soon. We’ve caught wind of some…information. It’s going to take us farther out of the city. I was going to tell you tonight. I don’t know how long it will be. Could be months…” He speaks slowly, his voice lulling, soothing you, even as you take in what he’s actually saying. I’m leaving, get out while you can.

There is a long silence following his announcement, and you lean against him, burying your face against the rough fabric of his trench coat. So, just go home? Go back to the states? There has to be something that you’re not thinking of…

Tomura tilts your face up, craving contact. He runs his rough lips over yours, carefully letting his hands tap over your neck.

His kiss is light. The fleeting caress makes you press against him, your fingers curling into the lapels of his jacket, tugging him closer. You moan when he tilts his head, sliding wetly across your lips. His tongue traces the seam of your mouth and you open, tangling with him. Tomura grunts at your eagerness and his nose bumps yours, his exhaled breath shaky, wanting.

You sigh. How were you supposed to just say ok? How could you be ok without having him like this? What if you wanted to try and remain at his side...could you ask that of him? What if…wait…wait…that’s it!

You pull back from him, gasping and he gives you a disgruntled look, a frown creasing his features. “Oh...that’s it! I know what to do!”

“Keep your voice down,” he reprimands, as you lean back to reach for your purse. You dig in the scattered contents and emerge with a small business card, a beaming smile across your face.

“Nico! He said to call him if I wanted to take him up on that job offer. He said I could draft for him. He’s at that clinic, and he said they work in a grey area, but they have some serious connections. It’s perfect. It lets me slip away, I’ve just got to be careful how I do it.”

Tomura snorts at your enthusiasm. “So, you just get a new job and all your troubles go away?”

“No, I tell my job I’m transferring back to the states and I pack up my apartment. It won’t be the cheapest thing I’ve ever done, but if I can pull it off, then it’s the perfect solution. I can find some place else to live, and slip into a new life, one where you can still come and go.”

He stares, his eyes wide in that childlike manner, the pupils blown. You smile and fling your arms around him, kissing along his neck. He grunts and presses you back, pinning your arms to your sides.

“Stop squirming,” he growls and you still obediently, not wanting to agitate him.

“Come on, don’t be like that, Tomura. It could work. At least let me try.” You plead, watching his face, trying to see if you could get a read on him.

“You actually are insane,” he sighs, rolling his eyes and turning his head to look away from your stare.

“No, I love you.”

It just tumbles out, but it’s too late to unring the bell. Besides, you stand by it.

He freezes underneath you, his head whipping back to yours. His eyes are sharp and his lips are lifted in a deep scowl. It’s an intense look he’s giving you, almost raw, dangerous. It makes your stomach flip, uncertainty pooling in your gut. You find yourself looking away and biting your lip, “I mean it, I-”

He doesn’t give you a chance to say anything else.

He’s pulling you against him with bruising force, his hands trembling as they press into your skin. He can’t even seem to focus enough to land his lips on yours. He tries again, then stops himself, his face lifting away, but he won’t let you go.

His arms are wrapped around you, his grip tightening and relaxing. He tries to look at you, but ends up ducking his head once your eyes catch his, burying his face in your neck, panting against your skin. He can’t stay still. No, he’s groaning, so brokenly against you that you’re worried he’s going to shake himself to bits.

You lift your arms, belatedly, to wrap around his neck. You try to hold him to you, desperate to seep a little reassurance, fuck, a little sanity into his trembling body. Tomura shakes his head at the confinement and shoves you down, against the mattress.

You squeak as your back hits the musty sheets, but he’s pinning you under him before you can protest.

“What did you say to me?” he finally snarls, his lips curled over his teeth. “No. I know you didn’t just fucking tell me that. How could you even- How? I’m a monst- I-I...” He can’t string his words together. His head dips to your neck, his lips rough against your skin. He can’t catch his breath and he won’t keep still.

You’re gasping under him, trying to hold him. But, it’s impossible to control him. You just shut your eyes against the emotions that he’s pulling from you and let him seethe above you.

“Look at me,” he growls, his voice hoarse and ragged. You try to wince your eyes open, but you’re too overwhelmed, you just can’t, you can’t look.

Why, you think distantly, why can’t you look?

You tell him you love him and now you can’t look at him? Are you afraid of what you’ll see? Afraid of the rejection that you know is coming? It doesn’t change anything, you tell yourself, even if he tells you to get out, it doesn’t change what’s happened between the two of you. No. If this is what you want, then tell him that. He has to...he has to hear it.

“Fucking look at me, (Y/N).”

“T-Tomura,” you try, a tear of frustration, of fear, slipping down your face. “Tomura, I mean it. I lov-”

“Stop it,” he moans, his breath hot against your cheek, his lips following the path of your tear, pressing the salty wetness away. He’s straddling your hips and his hands are curled, pressing into the bed.

“Don’t you fucking dare. You don’t mean it. You can’t-”

“Stop it, Tomura. Just, stop. You think I don’t mean it? How can you say that? After everything we, no, God, how can you fucking say that I don’t love you? When I’m right here, telling you that I do? You don’t get to dictate how I feel. What gives you the right to say that I don’t?” you ask, your voice an angry whisper. You can feel him shaking, his body wracked with his shivers and the realization gives you the courage to open your eyes. Your anger melts away at the sight that greets you.

He’s hunched over, his hair draped across his face and his eyes are clenched shut. He looks like he’s ready to fall apart. One of his hands lifts to scratch at his neck, dragging red lines down the scarred skin.

As if they have a mind all their own, your own hands lift, tugging free of his weight to cup around his face. He tries to yank his way out of your grasp but you just tighten your hold. He’s not getting away that easily.

“Tomura,” you call, keeping his face captive in your hands, forcing him back to you. “Tomura, I love you.”

He sags.

His whole body seems to shrink and his eyes finally meet your steely gaze. The red is bright, wild, gleaming in the darkness. You gulp and furrow your brow, a trembling exhale falling from your lips. You have to say it now. There’s no going back. The world is shattering, splintering to pieces above you, but he has to know. Before you lose him, he’s gotta at least know that one thing in this world that he hates so much, cares about him. Fuck, loves him.

“Sure,” you begin, still gripping your fingertips into the side of his head, slowly slipping up to tug at his hair. “I’m insane. I’ve fallen in love with someone who wants absolutely nothing to do with what I can offer.

It’s not going to work Tomura, I know it’s not. But, goddamn it, at least let me try. I know I don’t get to keep you, I don’t even know what you’re fucking planning to do. You could want to burn down the world for all I care. I just...I just want to hold on a little longer.”

He’s slack jawed and his eyes are wide and unfocused. He’s still panting but he’s not fighting against your hold anymore. Finally, he closes his eyes and lowers his head, his forehead coming to rest against yours.

“Say it again,” he requests, his voice muted, thick with longing.

“What? The whole thing?”

He lets out a wheezing laugh and you slowly start to breathe again.

“You know what I want,” he murmurs. You lift his head from you, tilting until you catch his eyes.

“I love you, Tomura.” A low shudder echoes up his spine and his eyes drift closed again.

“Fuck,” he rumbles, tugging his head from your hands. He doesn’t go far. Instead, he flops to his side and drags you over, draping you across him, his arms latching around you, keeping you in place.

You sigh, relieved, dipping your head against him, feeling for his heartbeat. You’re both quiet and the room stills around you. Your fingers are tracing lazy circles over his crossed arms, careful to avoid his clenched fists. He presses his nose against your hair, inhaling deeply.

“Stay,” he says above you, his breath stirring across the top of your head.

You smile against his chest and duck into his warmth. His grip on you tightens, lean muscles coiling, holding you to him. You can feel his lips as they run along the top of your head, tapping soft kisses into your hair.

Ok, so it’s not the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard, but you wouldn’t have wanted him any other way.

******

Your new apartment is nothing to sneeze at. Nico hadn’t been joking about that pay raise. He also was so much more than you were expecting. Not in a bad way, just in a, hey, I know some shit just went down, are you ok, kinda way. He didn’t pry, but he’d gone out of his way all the same.

The rest of the team at the clinic has also been absolutely stellar at helping you to get set up. Need something moved? On it! It’s like a big family and you can’t wipe the smile off your face most days.

As for your old job, they had been disappointed, but they understood why you wanted to get back to America. However, the American side of that job hadn't been so thrilled at your resignation, but you had received a glowing review from your old boss stateside. You liked to pull it up on your new laptop, reading over the words of encouragement and shaking your head at just how seriously you’d taken her advice.

Your Japanese work buddies were heartbroken, Hanabi most of all. But, you promised to keep in touch. You hadn’t quite figured out how you were going to do that, but that was a problem for another day.

All in all, things were going to plan. You had asked Nico for a little bit of extra help with the paperwork, explaining some of the details to him, and he had been quick to get you set up with a new passport, visa and residency card. It was like the old you was just a blip. You’d just need to keep your head down for a while, check the news, and see where all the extra precautions took you. It wouldn’t be easy, but what part of life was?

Tomura had stopped by after you finished setting up your new tv and console. Appropriately, he’d said he wanted to try it out and had then proceeded to ignore you while you set up the rest of the room. You didn’t mind.

The two of you were trying to make the most of the next couple of days. That lead he’d mentioned was somewhere on the outskirts of Tokyo and he wasn’t sure how long he’d be gone. He’d reminded you of that fact, over and over, until you’d finally told him to shut up and let you enjoy the time that you did have with him.

“Hey,” you call, unboxing the last of your new dishes, “got you something.” He tilts his head toward you, eyes still glued to his game. Rolling your eyes at his inattention, you wander over, leaning over your new couch to wrap your arms around his neck.

“Pause it,” you demand, dropping a kiss against his temple. He grumbles, but you persist, nibbling on the shell of his ear when he tries to prolong his session.

“What?” He lifts his head up to look at you, his hair falling back against your arms.

“I want to give you something,” you reply, pressing your lips to his forehead before unwinding your arms and stepping around the couch. He eyes you suspiciously as you perch on your coffee table. You lift a key up, wagging it beside your face.

“It’s a key,” you taunt. He smirks and snatches it from you, pocketing it and tugging you forward.

His kiss is soft, so achingly soft that you melt into his arms immediately, flopping against his lean chest.

“Stop being so dramatic,” he grumbles, shifting you to a more comfortable position across his lap. Your legs straddle his hips and he holds you against him, his fingers warm against your hips.

“Can’t say I never got you anything,” you tease, leaning back and grinning down at him.

“Same,” he huffs, reaching into his pocket again and tossing a small phone at you. You fumble to catch it. He snorts at your scrambling and you pout.

“It’s not like you’re throwing it at a normal angle or anything.”

It’s small in your hands, almost obsolete in this modern age. You flip it open and already see a contact programmed in: Tenko Shimura.

“So you don’t bring any more cops around. It also can’t be traced.” His voice is hushed, almost embarrassed. It makes your heart flutter.

“Awe, a burner phone. I’ll cherish it always,” you jab and tilt his chin up, so you can keep kissing him.

******

A low vibrating wakes you. Blearily, you check your phone, only to be greeted with a normal screen, no missed messages or emails. Huh? The vibrating continues and you suddenly realize what it is. Flinging your feet out of bed, you rush to your charger, unhooking the old phone Tomura gave you.

[Tenko: 2:23 am]

Out of the city. Found a new friend.

There’s a picture underneath the words and you click the buttons until it lets you highlight and bring up the image.

It looks like he’s in a forest and you’re shocked he has a signal. But…what the hell is that?

There’s something nestled between all the greenery and it looks ominously like a man. If it’s real, it’s practically a giant, no, actually hulking would be a better word…

It’s practically a living, hulking mountain. Unsure if your sleepy brain is playing tricks on you, you exit the image, deciding that 2 am is not the time to unpack this particular phenomenon.

[You: 2:35 am]

Looks, uh, interesting? Be safe & Love you.

- Fin

Author’s Note:

Ugh, this was such a bittersweet chapter for me. I wrote this fic in its entirety back in the last few weeks of August. I had time before my classes started again and I leapt at the opportunity. In many ways, I identified more and more with the reader insert as I tried to pour out my ideas. I wanted to hold onto this tiny story that I’d outlined, to see if I could make something like this work after such a long break from writing on this scale.

So, out came Look Upon the Light.

It was like a fever dream. I couldn’t stop now that I’d started. After I reached the 8th, and final, chapter, I spent the next two months pouring over what I’d written, editing endlessly. I wanted to make things feel just right.

I went from this bombastic climax to something more subdued. Why not let it be an anticlimactic ending? Life often works that way and sometimes things just, well, end.

Tomura, in particular, has changed so much over the course of this journey.

There were days when I felt like he sounded terrible, nothing like the complex character that I loved so much. But, with my sister's wonderful edits and suggestions, main ideas & patience and countless read-reads of the manga, I got a handle on him and I am so proud of how he’s come out.

Canonically, I feel like this gap in the main story is the only time something like this romance could happen to him. Tomura is in a fragile place. For the first time in his life there’s no one looking over his shoulder and he’s become a character who is worlds away from where he started.

His goals are finally solidifying and he acknowledges that the members of his league deserve to have what they want too. Inside, no matter what has been stripped from him, he’s always been Tenko Shimura: that little boy who wanted to play with the outliers, to make sure that he was letting them feel included too. I indulgently like to think that if someone like the reader existed, their relationship might help him to come to terms with this part of himself.

Finally, this wouldn’t have been possible without you, dear readers. I have cherished each and every kudo, comment, subscription, like, and reblog. I was so scared to put this out. There are so, so many talented writers for this fandom and I was nervous. It had been so long since I’d written anything on this scale, would it sound ok? You all have been so supportive and welcoming and I love you so much. The response I received from posting this let me feel confident enough to explore some of my other favorite characters.

So, thank you. From the bottom of my heart, I mean it when I say that you all are amazing and I wish each of you so much joy.

While this won’t be the last time I write for Tomura, there are other facets of his personality that I want to explore, I will wait a bit to do any updates to this story. I want things to catch up and settle within the manga itself before I toss the reader back into Tomura’s life. I do hope that they can come together again, as I have become their biggest fan.

In the meantime, The Gap in the Door will explore some of their other interactions. Some take place around the time of the chapter Polaroid, but some will look into other parts of the story. If you have a prompt, or want to see another glimpse into anything that happened, let me know. These two are so much fun to write and I enjoy head cannoning how they could fit together.

In short, thank you again for all you’ve done for me and take care of yourselves.

Tags: @inumorph, @rekoii, @diaouranask, @possum-person, @akutaguagua

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thatesqcrush · 5 years ago

Text

Fall From Grace

Brian Kneef x Reader. Fandom: The Good Fight. Reference: S4, E.4, “The Gang is Satirized and Doesn't Like It.” CW: language, pining, Brian being a snarky asshole. Smut to follow in the next part. AN: Our lovely REE was on The Good Fight for all of 3 minutes so I am taking lots of liberties. I am obsessed with the anti-Barba. He was just delicious.

WC: 2.7K

***

The first time you encountered Brian Kneef, you basically had collided into him as he came off the elevator and you were rushing in.

You were running late for work at Reddick, Boseman & Lockhart – or STR Laurie – or whatever it was called these days. You had a hard time keeping up despite having worked there forever.

You were looking in your bag for your ID and held your latte in the other. You were, admittedly, not paying attention to what you were doing or really going. You crashed into what you thought was a wall, but instead was a thick, solid chest. Your latte, went everywhere – mostly onto the man and his sharp, navy suit.

Flushed with embarrassment, you peered up into the most beautiful green eyes. You began to open your mouth to apologize but found yourself at a loss for words. It didn’t matter – you were met with a sneer of disgust. “Ugh, watch where you’re fucking going! Jesus fucking Christ, my suit!”

The man pushed past you and stormed out, leaving you behind with your mouth agape. You shook your head in disappointment looking at your ruined coffee on the floor. Security waved you off at the front desk, and you could hear housekeeping being called. With a defeated sigh, you continued onto the elevator and up to the floor. But something about those eyes unnerved you.

The second time you encountered Brian Kneef, you were in the corner of the office being used for a deposition. You were certain Brian did not remember you. You and the rest of the staff listened in shock as he continued to press on about some mysterious memo 618 which he referred to Diane Lockhart, as “her ass.” You couldn’t even focus on what was happening – you were transfixed in the power and ferocity of Brian’s anger.

Brian’s jaw was clenched as he seethed. “I have requested your ass. Do you want me to spell it out for you? I would like to call your ass.”

“What is memo 618?” Diane sharply questioned, ignoring what Brian said.

“Let it go on the record that I have asked plaintiff’s lawyer to call her own ass.”

“Look – can we just get down to it? What is memo 618?”

Brian ignored the other associate who piped up. “Have I not made it clear? Memo 618 is your ass. When you’re dead, and you’re on the autopsy table, and they’re taking photos of your body… when they come to your ass… that’s memo 618.” Brian suddenly stood, the chair screeched slightly as it scraped the floor. He leaned over the table, his face stoic yet at the same time, practically menacing. “Next time you come for me, remember, we have your ass.”

Brian stormed out of the office leaving everyone stunned in the wake of the aftermath.

You let out the breath you did not realize you were holding. You stood finally after the office emptied and you rushed back to your office. The rest of the day was a waste – all you could think of was Brian commenting about memo 618. You kept replaying his words like a broken record…

“Your ass.”

The third time you encountered Brian Kneef, you were furiously typing away in your office, trying to complete a motion in limine.

“Where’s YFN YLN?” you heard Brian ask. Your door was open and you could see him stalking through the office’s open floor plan, with some poor associate to his side trying to keep up. You saw someone gesture towards your office.

“Woah, woah, woah, why does she have an office? How does the paralegal have an office and I have a cubicle?”

“Because she’s a fifth year paralegal and you’re a first year associate. She’s worth more than you are.” You could hear him sneer in the distance. Suddenly Brian was in front of you along with the pitiful associate.

You gingerly removed your headset and looked up. “May I help you?”

“There’s a hearing on my subpoena. You have to help do research.”

You cocked your head at the litigator. “I… I am in the middle of drafting a motion in limine.”

“Not my problem. Find a way to handle that and my research.”

You sighed. “Noted.”

The associate gave you a sympathetic smile before placing a red weld on your desk before scurrying after Brian.

You quickly looked at the file.

“You're asking to look at the files without any evidence of your assertion.” You shouted. Brian paused in his step before turning back to you.

“Yeah, but the only way we can find the evidence is to look at the files.”

You raised your brow and scoffed. “A rickety argument at best.”

“But it's their precedent.

You slowly nodded. “Let me see what I can find; I will need to look in privacy and harassment.”

The morning of the hearing, you found yourself running through the Skokie Courthouse. You regretted wearing heels that day instead of your flats. The heels of your shoes clacked loudly against the marble floor, the sound echoing throughout. As you ran, you spotted Brian, who was standing outside of the courtroom doors.

“Mr. Kneef! Mr. Kneef!” You skidded to a stop in front of him. Panting you bent over to catch your breath. You stood and met Brian eye to eye. The look on his face was indescribable – part amusement and part annoyance. “I found this. This can help.” You shoved the law text in front of him.

Brian snatched it from you and he ran through the text. “This I can use. This is good.” He murmured.

You smiled in relief. You were about to turn away when an arm stopped you. “Come watch.” Brian suggested, his head nodding towards the courtroom.

“Really?” you squeaked.

“Come on. We’re going to have some fun.”

You took a seat and then watched mesmerized as Brian annihilated opposing counsel.

Brian was absolutely cutthroat and ruthless, handing it to opposing counsel. The way he commanded the courtroom, his voice boomed throughout. You were completely transfixed. He was ornery; it was downright delicious and sinful. You would have to been blind in order to not see his attractiveness. As he sat perched on the edge of the table, you wondered about what was underneath the suit. You tried to commit the bearded man to memory.

The judge found in his favor, ordering opposing counsel to surrender files. Brian looked back at you and gave you a victorious smile and you felt your panties dampen in response.

“That was great!” you quickly spat out, feeling your face flush as Brian approached you.

“It was your argument. I just framed it in a more realistic appearance. I brightened all of our mornings.” Brian winked, causing you to laugh.

Brian looked at his watch and then at you. “Want to get breakfast?”

Your stomach rumbled at the idea. You hadn’t had any breakfast – barely any coffee actually. You had spent the entire last few days doing research for Brian.

“But I have to get back to the office…my motion…” you began to protest.

“I’ll get one of the associates to finish it.”

By the time you were back at the office, it was near noon. Normally you would have felt awful and guilty for coming back so late, but you figured could talk to Mr. Laurie or Mr. Firth and it would be excused. You were basically floating on the walk back to your desk, when you bumped into Marissa Gold, Diane’s assistant.

“Heard Brian won his case.”

“He did.” You replied confidently as you sipped on the extra latte you had taken to go.

“Well the files are here.” Marissa replied, taking the coffee from you. She took a long drag of the hot liquid. “Mmmm – that is good. What is that?”

“Smoked butterscotch.” You replied taking your coffee back. “I am impressed the files are already here.”

Marissa gave you a pained expression and nodded towards your office. Your office was packed to the brim with boxes and boxes of files – so much so, there were boxes stacked even outside of your office.

Your jaw dropped as you came to a stop. “What in the actual fuck?”

Marissa put her hands on her hips. “It seems that they’re trying to bury you in paperwork.”

Your phone buzzed and you reached for it. You saw you had an email from Brian.

Heard the files came in. I am in a generous mood. Get it done in a week.

“Oh my fucking God.” You muttered repeatedly. “I am never going to get this done.”

“I’ll help you.” Marissa replied. “I’ll get a couple of the junior paralegals to help.”

Day turned into night. You were still knee deep in boxes despite having help. Everyone slowly faded – some had to get home to their families – others wanted to go out (it was Friday night after all). Arcade Fire’s ‘Reflektor’ was playing on loop and you picked at cold dumplings while trying to make sense of it all.

Your hair, which had been loose, was pinned up into a low chignon, with a pen stuck through it, trying to keep it in place.

Your watch beeped and you looked at the notification telling you to stand. You had been sitting for unreasonable length of time, so you decided to stretch. You felt all of the muscles in your body stretch in your pandiculation. Your eyes were shut and you let out a huge yawn.

The sound of throat clearing cause you to be startled. Your eyes flew open to see Brian there in the doorway.

“I heard you were still here.” Brian replied. His hands were shoved into his pockets and he leaned against the door frame. He noted that you look worn and fatigued.

“That I am.” You waved your arm towards all of the boxes. “These need to get looked through and you need it in a week’s time.”

“Have you eaten?”

You cocked your head and pointed at your cold dinner. “Just that.”

“You’re working late, dinner can be on the Firm’s dime and you’re eating that?”

“Sure, let the paralegal charge a steak dinner. That won’t come to bite me in the ass.”

“How far did you get?” Brian asked, stepping further into your office. He removed his jacket and folded it neatly over the chair across from your desk. You watched him intently as he made quick work of his tie and nimbly undid his cuffs in order to roll up his sleeves. The room seemed to grow warmer.

“Not far enough.” You murmured.

Brian studied you intently. “How come you didn’t go to law school?”

“Those who can, do; those who cannot, teach.” You replied. “I bombed my LSATs. I decided I’d get some first-hand experience and then… well, lets just say the work keeps me busy enough and the salary is pretty good for a paralegal.”

Brian scratched his beard. “You’d make one hell of a lawyer. You already know more than the imbecile associates we have.”

You nodded and gave him a half-shrug. “Thanks.”

Brian stood suddenly. “I’ll be right back.”

You furrowed your brow. “Okay.”

An hour went by and Brian still wasn’t back. You weren’t surprised – you really didn’t expect him to return. You had untucked your blouse and knotted it in front and kicked off your shoes. Looking at the clock it was almost midnight.

You decided to call down for a car-service home, figuring you’d try to sleep and come back early in the morning to start over with fresh eyes when Brian returned. In his hands was a bottle of whiskey and two lowball glasses.

“I called in for dinner from Bavette’s. I hope your hungry.” Brian replied as he poured the two drinks. Your fingertips brushed his as he handed you a glass and you felt a jolt of something. You took a deep inhalation of the peaty aroma.

Glasses clinked and you took a large sip and let the whiskey coat your mouth. The whiskey was rich with multiple layers and a complex presence. “Mmmm…” you hummed contentedly.

Brian watched you intently. He wasn’t sure what had gotten to him – he never mixed business with pleasure. ‘You don’t eat where you shit’ was his life motto. But he felt like a moth drawn to a flame with you. You were incredibly gorgeous and smart. He had to admit that the attraction began when you ruined his suit. Any other time, he would have not even paid attention to whomever it was but when you looked up at him with those big, sorrowful eyes, your cheeks red with embarrassment – something was unnerved – and it sent a jolt right to his core. He could not get you out of his mind and after a lunch meeting, he had to go relieve himself in a bathroom stall, imagining it was you helping him out of his ruined clothing and then slowly sinking to your knees blowing him instead of his hand doing all the work.

In this moment, Brian could almost visualize every trace of you. The roundness of your hip, covered by your pencil skirt to the dip of your waist, where your blouse was haphazardly half-tucked and knotted. Your blouse was painfully sheer, and he could make out the shape of your bra. The day that you ran to court – when you were bent over, trying to catch your breath, he could see right down your blouse. He wondered if you were as full and soft as he imagined. He imagined how they would spill onto his hands and how hard your nipples would get under his fingertips. Your hair that day had also fallen forward, and he wondered what it would be like to gather it all with his fist as he plowed into you from behind.

“Fuck.” Brian muttered. You raised a brow and he quickly shook his head, and waved you off. “Nothing.”

“Speaking of nothing…” you began, turning to hop onto your desk. “What is memo 618?”

Brian’s eyes narrowed and darkened. “Nothing. Don’t ask things you shouldn’t be asking about.”

You leaned back, bracing yourself. Your palms laid flat against the desk. “Oh. I thought…”

“You thought nothing.” Brian replied sharply. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Why? Because I am a paralegal?”

“No – because some things are bigger than…” Brian poured himself another drink and just as quickly as he poured it, he downed it. “Bigger than anyone can comprehend.” He continued. “And you’re too… you cannot get caught up in it.” Again he poured another drink.

“Try me.” You replied, continuing to sip your drink. Without even realizing it, you parted your legs and Brian walked up to you. His body was nestled in between you and suddenly, you felt like Little Red Riding Hood captured by the Big Bad Wolf. Brian leaned down – his face was mere millimetres from yours. He reached over and gripped your chin, tilting your face up towards him. Your chest began to tighten, and your stomach flipped. Your heart began to race and instinctively, you licked your lips.

“It’s fucked and you’ll be fucked up for it.” Brian replied, his voice low and coaxing. His eyes searched yours. He could see the heat in your eyes.

“Then I’ll be fucked.” You replied. A smirk graced your face as you jerked your chin out of his grasp. That defiant move alone caused Brian’s cock to thicken against his zipper. His blood was hot; all he wanted to do was to wipe away all evidence of that self-assured smile.

His lips crashed against yours. You let out a moan as he kissed you hard. Your lips were mashed against his and you willingly opened your mouth, allowing his tongue to swirl against yours.

One arm wrapped around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. You wrapped your hands into Brian’s hair as you returned the kiss. Another hand made its way to your breast and you cupped his hand, encouraging him to touch you.

You gasped as Brian’s lips trailed to a sensitive spot along your neck. “Memo 618…”

Brian jerked up straight. His eyes were dark and dangerous. You grinned like a cat who caught the canary.

“Memo 618 is my ass. And it’s yours for the taking.”

TBC.

Tags: @melsquared79 @madpanda75 @youreverycolor @tropes-and-tales @neely1177 @the-baby-bookworm @mrsrafaelbarba @skittle479 @ottosuricato @delia26 @sass-and-suspenders @mommakat32 @dreila03 @beccabarba @garturbo @lovebennycolon @imjustreallynosy @sweetsummertime99 @whyissvuruiningmylovelife @scarletsoldierrr @cesarofangirl78 @redlipstickandplaid @redlipstickandblacktea @zoeykaytesmom @differentshadesofgray @misssirenlove @esparza-army @bananas-pajamas @mishaissocoollike @fanficfaeriesrafaelbarbalibrary @theenchantedgalleryofstories @thefanficfaerie @trekinthruthestarwars @catnip987 @choppedgalaxynerd @pieceofshittytitty @ktiz90 @evee87 -anyone else, just ask, xo

#brian kneef x reader #brian kneef and reader #brian kneef and you #brian kneef imagine #the good fight fanfic

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klbwriting · 4 years ago

Text

The Sparrow and The Rogue - Part 2

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Pairing: Ben Hargreeves/female!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, once again fighting

Summary: The Umbrella siblings learn about what’s been going on in this timeline, One lives a day in his life, and has a pretty fun date trying to kill his wannabe girlfriend

Even though the Umbrella siblings were promised an explanation that evening they never got one. At least most of them didn’t. There was a debrief to the small group of powered adults by Lila and Eight and then Diego and Lila disappeared somewhere while the rest of the group had dinner with what they discovered were a team called the ‘Rogues’ and they were kidnapped from directly under Reginald’s nose. Most of them had chosen names while a couple stayed with their numbers, liking the way they sounded. Eleven was very happy now that they kept their named now that Stranger Things was popular and they had the same powers as the character in the show. They were giving rooms in the hideout, having to double up with the Rogues already there. It was a surprise to no one that Diego was just fine sharing with Lila and Allison was almost a little nervous to share with Eight not knowing what her power was.

“You look happy,” she said, trying to break the ice with the girl who was texting and had a smile on her face. Eight looked over as if she forgot Allison was there and blushed, putting the phone under her pillow quick. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“Its no big deal, just don’t tell Lila about it ok?” she said. Allison nodded with a smile. “She would be very annoyed if she found out I was texting with someone inside the Sparrows.”

“Ben?” Allison asked, sitting up now, full ready to have some girl time. Eight considered this, then finally sat up herself. She never got to talk to anyone about One and how confusing things were between them.

“Ya, he’s One here, he was your brother?” she asked. Allison nodded.

“Ya, he was killed on a mission when we were teenagers. Klaus could still see him, he communes with the dead, but the rest of us weren’t so lucky,” she said.

“What was he like in your time?” Allison considered how to answer.

“We weren’t super close, he was always close with Vanya and Diego, he was so kind to everyone, especially the ones dad was hardest on. I remember one time I was walking by Diego’s room while he was practicing his speech and Ben was in there, they had to have been 7 maybe, and he was just sitting there listening and encouraging him. Diego was crying after a bit of not being able to get a word out and Ben just took his hand and said ‘don’t think about dad, just think about talking to me, you know you can take your time with me’. That’s who Ben was, just the best,” she said, getting a little teary thinking about her lost brother. Eight smiled and moved to sit next to Allison, a comforting arm going around her shoulders.

“That version is still here. I have seen moments of that person in One, that kindness,” she said. “My first memory is with One, when I think we were 4, its really simple, I had fallen and scraped up my knee during a morning run and dad was livid at me, even at 4 I was always too big and slow for him to tolerate so he made me do extra laps and One was there with me the whole time, ran every single one next to me even though he was faster and could have been done, he stayed with me.”

“That sounds like Ben,” Allison agreed. “I hope maybe we can get past this, I don’t know what dad is planning but I’m so tired of running around and being chased, just so tired.” Eight nodded.

“Get some sleep, no one will wake you up tomorrow so you can get a good rest,” she said, moving back to her bed and laying down. Allison followed suit and she closed her eyes, drifting off to a music box playing now in the room. She hadn’t noticed one being around before but Eight must have had next to her somewhere. Once she was sleeping Eight lifted a hand and the music box across the room stopped playing, letting her fall asleep also.

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

Number One was going through the motions today. He had woken up early as usual and went to the kitchen to help mom make breakfast. He knew she couldn’t really appreciate it like a person, but he thought she enjoyed spending time with him anyway. He could feel his father’s present before he saw him, entering the kitchen and giving him a disproving look, still angry about dinner no doubt.

“Good morning Number One, feeling a little less rebellious today?” he said, sitting at the breakfast table and looking through a morning paper. One glared at the eggs he was plating and set the plate down in front of Reginald a little harder than he meant. “Ah, I see you are still in a mood. Very well, you will be in charge of leading drills this morning, now eat your eggs.” One didn’t say anything but internally he groaned, drills made everyone hate him for days. He ate in silence with the rest of his siblings before standing and telling them to get up and get to the yard. They shot him death glares before doing as asked, knowing the punishment was worse than the drills.

Two hours later and his siblings were off again, probably meeting in one of their rooms to talk about how much they hated him and his kiss ass ways. One however, had more work to do, heading out to do his first patrol of the day. He had no idea why dad sent him to do patrols instead of waiting for something to happen, especially now that the Umbrella siblings had shown up. First the patrols were for them, then they became patrols for general crime, but now that the word of the Horror had spread no one would dare commit a crime in the city limits unless they wanted to die a horrible death over 30$ in some purse.

This time out in the city gave him a chance to release some stress that he needed. He found a park nearby and soon was casually swinging watching the kids around him and reminding himself of why he dealt with everything. Without the Sparrow Academy the apocalypse would have happened two days ago. They had saved history, keeping the timeline on track after something called ‘The Commission’ went belly up in the 60s due to some kind of explosion. Where they had left off Reginald had picked it up, first on his own, and then when the 43 were born, with the 15 he had been able to get his hands on. They had been whittled down to 6 humans and a box that told them where to go and got them in and out. Ben may have hated his father but he would protect these people, always.

One patrolled until lunch, stopping at the kitchen table to eat alone before going to his room and checking his messages on his secret phone. Before he could open it he had to hide it under his pillow as his door was shoved open and Number Two walked in. Two stood silent for a second, seemingly realizing that he had caught One doing something he shouldn’t.

“You alright One?” he asked suspiciously. One stood up, facing off against his sibling, mustering up his bravado.

“Ya, what do you want number Two?” he emphasized the word two just to irritate them. They growled, glaring.

“Dad wanted to have us trade patrols tonight, I’ll take 9th to 15th, you take the old trainyards,” Two said. “Starting now, I’m supposed to watch you leave.” One gritted his teeth, anger seething through him.

“Let me get ready, I need to get my shoes,” he said. Two just stood in the doorway watching as One went back to his bed, sitting down and tying his shoes extra slow, hoping something would happen to make Two glance away. Someone must have heard his silent plea because something clunked in the hall making Two look around for a fight. One grabbed the phone and shoved it in his pocket before standing up. “Alright, you want to walk me to the front door too?” Two glared and let him pass by, closing his door behind him.

After he was outside and a couple blocks away he texted Eight, letting her know of the change of plans, before heading down to the trainyards, thinking about maybe doing some sprints while he waited for her.

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

The Umbrella siblings sat in the main room of the hideout with Lila and Eight, Lila explaining what had happened to the Commission and what the Sparrow Academy had been up to. They knew that after the Commission was taken down those in the ‘Resistance’ had taken up control of the timeline under rule of Lila and the kids she had collected from over time, starting with Eight.

“We developed the traveling technology by stealing what Reginald had already figured out. The briefcases were big and too easy to lose, too much of a hassle, so instead Reginald created watches capable of the travel,” she explained.

“How did he figure that out? I watched the Commission try for decades to create that kind of technology,” Five cut in. Lila glared at him, still not exactly happy that he was alive after killing her parents, no matter who had ordered the hit.

“I don’t know, took a few tests to figure out how to use the watches, but now we can track where the Sparrows go and then fix whatever they mess up in history, keep the timeline on track,” Lila explained. Confusion rippled through the room.

“What do you mean you fix the Sparrows messes?” Luther asked, sitting forward, the chair creaking loudly. He made a face and waited for someone to say something just so he could hit them.

“The Sparrows travel around on orders from dad to ‘fix’ history, ya know, kill Steve Jobs before the iPhone, assassinate Abe Lincoln when he’s running for president, take out Thomas Jefferson, although that last one I really hated to fix,” Eight said. “Such a brilliant mind, such a shit fucking person.” She stood up and went to stand by the open door, Lila looking over at her.

“What’s wrong with you?” Lila asked.

“I’m warm, there’s a draft over here,” Eight explained, leaning on the wall, hand in her jacket pocket.

“Why don’t you just take off the jacket?” Klaus asked, getting elbowed by Allison. “What?”

“I like this jacket,” was her answer before she looked out the doorway. Lila rolled her eyes and returned to the original conversation.

“So after we fix their messes, they make more messes. We’re not sure what exactly Reggie is trying to do but either way, we know we have to make sure history happens as expected. Except for the apocalypse, none of us could really muster the desire to stop fixing that,” she said.

“So now we’re in no mans land?” Vayna asked, getting a little nervous about bringing about another end of the world scenario. Lila nodded.

“Honestly, only Five has lived past the apocalypse and now that it didn’t happen I don’t know what the game plan from here is, I just know what happens in actual history to keep that on track, what those changes bring in the future is a crap shoot,” she said. “Isn’t that right Eight? Eight?” She turned to see the doorway empty, no trace of Eight left in the hide out anymore. Allison sat in her seat and smiled softly, having an inkling where she was going, hoping that maybe she could turn Ben back to their side.

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

Eight had gotten One’s message and headed towards the trainyards. She passed by Number Four along the way and realized quick that One was being followed. She acted like she was patrolling, hoping to not have to fight Four but knowing it was a possibility. Four however, let her pass, clearly just being around to watch their brother and what he was doing. Once at the trainyards Eight dipped through old train cars, running up and down tracks until she saw One. She approached him slowly.

“You have a friend around,” she said. One’s eyes flashed the area and he caught a quick glance of crimson ducking behind a car nearby. “So I guess this is another fight to the death?”

“Guess so,” he said with a smirk. Eight smiled back sweetly. “No powers?”

“No powers, pinky promise,” she said before diving towards him, fist raised.

One easily blocked the shot, moving around to fire back with his own fist. Eight easily dodged and punched his stomach, pulling the hit so it didn’t actually hurt. One doubled over anyways, spearing her around the waist and taking her to ground, just out of view of Four.

“So, ready to play dead?” he asked, holding her shoulders down as she laid under him, watching him closely before nodding. He smiled down at her before standing up and walking around the car, hands raised above his head as in victory. He knew once Four saw this they would call out to him.

“Hey Number One!” Four called as expected, walking over the tracks. One hurried to meet them, not wanting them to actually see that Eight was alive. “You finally got the bitch!”

“Yup, finally caught her by surprise, she said no powers like an idiot,” he said, chuckling darkly. Four nodded and laughed. “Well I’m going to finish my patrol and head home, but ya know, gotta get rid of the body first.” Four nodded.

“Need help?” they asked. One shook his head.

“Nah, I got it, just going to shove her under the traincar, no one will find her and if they do animals will do the job first,” he said. Four nodded, turning and walking away without another word. Four was easiest to trick and One was glad dad hadn’t sent Two or Six after him.

Once he was sure Four was gone he headed back to the traincar to find Eight sitting against the wheel, having been listening. He took a seat next to her, close enough that their shoulders were touching, hand gently finding its way over to hers on her leg. He linked their fingers and sighed.

“Well, that’ll lighten things up for a bit, dad will think you’re dead for awhile,” he said, looking at her. She nodded and looked at him.

“You know we can’t do this forever, one day we have to either tell all the truth or run away,” she said. “We could go to the 90’s, relive our childhood but ya know as adults. I’ll be old enough to buy myself Backstreet Boys tickets.” One laughed and shook his head.

“Someday, but I can’t leave this behind, I mean we’re fixing history, making sure everything keeps on track,” he said. Eight sighed and rolled her eyes. “I know, you guys think we mess it up, but we don’t, we help, we save people, you guys are the ones who come around messing it up again.”

“We honestly don’t know who is fixing what,” she said. “I just wish I knew what dad was planning for, why he’s doing all this.”

“He’ll tell me when I’m ready,” One said indignantly, trying to justify why he was so readily going along with Reginald.

“I hope he does, I’m curious which side I’m on,” Eight said. She looked at him. “Enough talk, I don’t think we really came here to talk.” One nodded, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers, kissing her until he ran out of air, then taking a breath, and going right back in.

#The Umbrella Academy #ben hargreeves #ben hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves series #ben hargreeves fanfic #umbrella academy fanfic #umbrella academy

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purkinje-effect · 4 years ago

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The Anatomy of Melancholy, 66: Baggage

Table of Contents. Second Instar, Chapter 33. Go to previous. Go to next. TWs: Body horror, joint trauma, nudity, disability-related deprecation/catastrophization. How we carry ourselves.

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The last of the suds fizzled, leaving ‘Choly submerged in cold opalescent bathwater. A similar surfactant quality popped his daze, and he shifted in an attempt to sit up in the tub. The fluid’s inertia instead sloshed him further back against the enameled iron. He grunted with a squint as some water got up his nose. When he opened his eyes again, he saw the real trouble hindering his exit. His joints had fallen as slack as his lucidity. He felt like a marionette without a yoke. His stomach shuddered for him, as the slow continued sway of the water, once more settling, tugged at his arms half afloat.

So it was possible, after all, to relax too much.

He lay there for some time longer, barely able to string together the thought to devise some plan. His state left him reeling beyond the rationality that he might call out for help. Angel would worry itself apart to see him like this, and Sticks might very well toss him out in the Merrimack, beyond salvage. Besides, they hadn’t come to his rescue when he fell hours earlier, and he managed to get himself to the dinner table and back up here with nearly a nonzero amount of assistance. He could do this himself. He needed to learn how to do it himself--for his own safety, in the event something estranged others from coming to his aid.

He prayed this whatever-was-happening wouldn’t endure. But at least, he could in the moment assess his limitations.

His musculature and tendons remained connected and functioning, but necessitated an entirely other manner of physiological prescience: to not simply manage his own proprioception, but to apply it forward like some telekinetic mess of connective tissue cat’s cradle. It took every scrape of mental faculty to process and focus to where he could grasp himself by the wrists, by the elbows, by the shoulders, and so on, to grip each errant joint in turn, and to administer the force and torsion necessary to right the dysfunction. The bangs and bruises from the citywide chaos of the day before only served to compound how his throbbing body resisted total exhaustion.

He pushed himself up by both hands off the side of the tub, to stand. Instead, he spilled over the side and across the concrete flooring of the balcony. Flat on his back and defeated, he flopped back with a wheeze and stared up into the joints of the patio cover. The string lights burned a reverse image in his eyelids when he shut them.

He could hear rummaging inside through the open door yards away. His Stygian eyes fluttered open. The sight of twin mounted radstag heads hanging over the balcony door choked him.

“--Angel?”

The appellation came out far weaker and more broken than he expected.

When Angel didn’t respond, he bristled, and once more underwent the slow, quiet, deliberate process of summoning himself together. He found the Mister Handy had set out on the workhorse nearest to the tub for him a towel, his robe, and his glasses. He managed the loosest sense of drying off, and draped the towel around his neck and shoulders; then, he put on his glasses, and tied off the robe. Unsure exactly whom had come upstairs, let alone what--or whom--they sought, he grabbed an awl from the workbench and edged nearer the door frame on bated breath.

In the dark of the upstairs room, he could only make out the edges of lime split lighting in contrast to the figure’s lit Pip-Boy screen. He shivered at a prickle of draft. The white uniform with black apron. Symmetrical, if not keloid-riddled, features. Sticks rifled through the secretary as though it didn’t belong to him. Unsure how to even begin to ask what the ghoul could’ve needed, 'Choly meekly closed the door behind himself.

“Need more light?”

Sticks jerked up to look at him.

“...Of course, of course.” He loosed a rumbling, agitated chuckle. “It’s all right, pal, that you, ah. Sealed that negotiation for me like that. It’s all right, because... because we’re partners. Isn’t that right? Partners.”

The ghoul rose to flip the switch for the three overhead lamps strung across the roof beams. Right off, ‘Choly noticed the ghoul’s black eye, and a ripped dishevelment marred with bits of fresh blood. ‘Choly chewed at his lower lip.

“Partners... Yeah.” He swallowed, and rubbed at his forearm with his free hand. He’d only been trying to help. “Are you okay? Could we-- talk? We need to talk. If-- if that’s all right.”

The juxtaposition of the encounter startled Sticks to a cautious desperation.

“Everything’s all right between us, right?”

“Of course. It’s not that. ...I need to sit.” He walked over to the secretary and took the desk chair for himself. Sticks sat on the corner of the bed. “I know I fucked up a lot yesterday, but I think I may have fucked up something else.”

He set the awl down on the desk, and swiveled to face Sticks. Picking what he felt he could afford to potentially damage further, he took hold of his left calf and knee, and purposefully loosed it again with a hollow chain of cartilaginous pops. His breath stuttered as he dangled his leg by the foot, but he kept his cool as he gave the ghoul a sardonic glance.

Sticks looked to him agape, with unfiltered, nauseated fascination.

“The cryogenic chemicals damaged my joints and skin, but I’ve managed for months until today. This is... something completely else.” He worked at resetting his knee as he continued, stifling jolts of revulsion. “I mean, even if it is the condition progressing, why all at once? And why-- this? It would be too much of a coincidence if the X-Cell Squared weren’t related... or the inhaler. That fucking inhaler.” He seethed, cupping his face in hand. “I was so tired when she handed me that stuff last night and told me it was Addictol. Fuck me, I’m stupid--”

“--You’re not stupid. She just knows how to trick people. ...Do you really suppose she gave you something that wasn’t Addictol?”

“I checked my Pip-Boy’s health diagnostics earlier. I’m still in withdrawals from chems I took prior to her giving me the inhaler. I could show you, if I-- if I knew where it was.”

“Hey now. I’m sure it’s safe. It’s just you, me, and the robot now.”

‘Choly toweled at his hair again, only to swivel around and look in the secretary for himself. He produced the Walden Drugs catalogue from one slot, and thumbed through it in search of specific pages.

“My current set of orthotics aren’t doing it. The officer’s gloves help, but that’s just my hands. The ankle and wrist braces, the postural corset--they’re just for sprains and such, not full dislocations. Neither you nor Angel seemed to notice earlier, but I fell down the stairs. I’m struggling to put one foot in front of the other. I’m a liability as I am. You called me wet cardboard the other day, and it just keeps feeling more true.“ He slapped the catalogue down in his lap, and shut his eyes to rub at them under his glasses with thumb and forefinger. “Look, I’m bad at asking for help. So: This is me asking for help. I know you don’t have to help me and that it’s probably prudent to ditch me... but I hope having me in your life means more to you than that.”

He held out the booklet turned to the relevant page. Sticks leaned to take it, and looked it over, uncurling the front half to inspect the cover, then back to the items. He face slacked in earnest as he flipped over to a locations listing.

“The closest one was Nashua, you said? Lexington didn’t have them?”

“I lived in the Lexington Walden’s stock room for months before it went up in flames. What I’ve got is the best I could find. Only the warehouses that stocked hospitals would have what’s on that page. They’re surgical grade. ...The Merrimack swallowed up the Lowell General Hospital, didn’t it?“ He slumped, unable to recall the building in the skyline as they’d passed through Downtown Historic. “You have no idea how badly I want to stay put. I love it here, with the bathtub, with the bed, with the you... But...” The idea of it eroded him to trembling. “I know it’s a long way. Especially on foot. But I can’t do it with just Angel. Especially since it’s out of ammo.”

“No, no. If you need this, then we need this. We needed a good reason to blow this place for a while. The Unfolded may seem to want to continue respecting the history this place has, Glenn Johnny’s included... But Lowell as a whole? They weren’t out here on exterminator duty, Mindy. They were doing recon on the locks and channels equipment. For the General.”

That nearly knocked ‘Choly out of the chair. When it clicked, he paled numb.

“The fuck do they want to-- Oh. Oh no.”

“Yeah. I’m not happy about it, either. Bare minimum, it’s gonna be like when a company puts a new building in. Except you and I both know that wont just be, what was it? Skunks? But worst case scenario? I don’t even want to begin to speculate what they plan to do with the river.” Weary, Sticks circled back to the catalogue. “Have you got a time estimate for this little recon? How long you think it’ll take to get there, and how long you intend to stick around?”

“I’m not sure. Does it matter much? We’re in agreement that a change of scenery’s desirable.”

Sticks traced at the details on the page, distant and in deep thought.

“It’s not just a change of scenery, is the thing. It’s a change of climate. I don’t know if you realize this, but Lowell’s on the southern threshold of the Hinter... and we’re coming up on Nor’easter season. Sure, the wildlife has got all big and wild, but so’s the weather. I’ll be mostly all right up there, being a ghoul, provided our shelter’s sound. But you? And the Handy?” The ghoul waved off his own train of thought. “You know what. Don’t sweat it. We’ll manage this. My experience, your grey matter.”

“Nor’easters? You’re worried over a chance there’s one this year? I’ve weathered dozens of ice storms in my life. Even a few hurricanes. And you’re a native Yankee, so you’ve got to have, too. We’ll be fine.” Denial wheezed from his nostrils, his lips pressed together tight. “I know it will put us even further from New Hampshire, but I do have one obligation first. I have to go to Billerica, to escort someone to the Concord suburbs. I should’ve taken them to safety before getting here, but I also didn’t know what I was getting myself into. They’ve been waiting for the Lowell conflict to blow over, and like me, they’re the last survivor of their location. I would have had to go check on them soon even if we stayed here.”

The ghoul squinted at him.

“Hazarding you’re confident they couldn’t just travel there themselves.”

“It shouldn’t take long at all!” ‘Choly threw his hands up. “One day, tops. We just need to get from here to there to Sanctuary Hills. It’s a Mister Handy. I couldn’t have brought it to Lowell and just left it. And it just feels too many kinds of wrong to just leave it all alone there, when it could be among some normal people again for once.”

Sticks weighed the various aspects about the proposition that didn’t sit well.

“If you’re having trouble just walking, do you suppose you’ll be in any condition to ride Angel down?”

“I, I don’t know.” 'Choly wilted into begging that left his companion too tongue-tied to object all the while. “We’ll figure that out, too! And you know what? This trip to Nashua isn’t just for me. Partners. I meant it, that we’re in this together. The long haul. The Lexington Walden was a smaller location, and even it had a sizable chem lab arrangement, with a large cache of stock. The Nashua Walden was classified as a full regional warehouse: it shipped to a dozen locations in the New England Commonwealth. Olivia gave me all those military chem formulas. That is what you were looking for just now, weren’t you? I’m as interested as you, to see what all I can make from a chem cookbook culminated from two hundred years of research.”

Sticks sat up at once and looked to him knowingly. He swatted his knee with the catalogue.

“Now that, I like to hear! What initiative! We’ll start out for all this tomorrow. You hear me? Let’s get to gathering things up tonight. We can do a once-over in the morning to make sure we’re not leaving anything important behind.”

“You’re not exhausted after all that stuff downstairs? After cooking for thirty?”

‘Choly felt even more pathetic than he sounded. He hadn’t even lifted a finger with a thing, yet was this worn out.

“We’ll go until we pass out, at least. We’ll sleep better that way. Hey Angel!” Sticks called out for the robot. “Set down that broom and dustpan for a bit and help us out up here!” He chortled excitedly. “Ohh, bless it all. You want to cook chems for me. And you want to wear this for me. I could kiss you.”

Something between a grimace and a grin tore ‘Choly’s face.

“You... you could kiss me, you know.”

“You’re not wrong.” Sticks swept him up in both arms and plopped him back on the freshly made bed, only narrowly taking the care to be delicate with him. He leaned down over the top of him, a hand to each side of ‘Choly’s shoulders, to smooch him. “We’re great together. You know that, right?”

‘Choly squinted awkwardly, and reached to turn off the screen light on Sticks’s Pip-Boy. He pulled him into another kiss, and looked him in the eye with adoration.

“Always have been.”

“I’ll have you know I’ve no intention of leaving this place without first cleaning up after such horrid house guests.” Angel scoffed in frustration as it appeared upstairs, oblivious to the pair making out on the bed. “And I hate to be the bearer of such information, but if I’m to carry Mister Carey, we must pack as light as possible. It’s not to guilt you, Sir, but even with the refinements you’ve made to my hydraulics, the added weight does result in a higher fuel expenditure. My ammunition isn’t the only thing running low after this week.”

“So we’ll make more frequent refueling pit stops for you, buddy,” Sticks mumbled over his shoulder, still pecking all over ‘Choly’s face and neck and shoulders where he could get at it. The little creep soaked it all up, squirming like it tickled. “You just worry about carrying Carey here. Anything heavy I need to bring, I’ll carry myself.”

‘Choly grabbed his face to get his attention.

“Hey. Maybe Angel could carry all the supplies, and you carry me? I’ve got to weigh less than that Flamer did, and you hefted that thing all over town without hardly ever setting it down.”

The ghoul melted into dopey chuff.

“Mindy. Babe. You do not weigh less than a Flamer.” He smiled, heavy lidded. “You’re on something, though. Sounds like it might work. I can guarantee you, that everything I’m bringing totally weighs less than you. So if I carry you, and Angel carries everything I’m bringing, that’s less strain on its flame.”

“Can I entrust you with my most precious cargo, Mister Hawthorne?”

He planted one more forceful smooch on ‘Choly before meeting gazes in a dreamy determination.

“He’s my prize, too, ya know.”

Go to Next »»»

#fallout fanfic #fallout 4 fanfic #fallout 4 #fallout #fo4 #sole survivor #mister handy #ghoul oc #melancholy #angel #sticks #the anatomy of melancholy #mm designer bags under my everything and everywhere #disobedient daily dress intensifies

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shark-from-the-park · 5 years ago

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FIC: The Fitzier of It, Episode One

A Fitzier The The Thick Of It AU in several parts.

So, I finally decided to start posting this long-ass fic and see what people think. You don’t need to have seen The Thick of It to get this. It’s just sweary political satire as a thinly veiled excuse to have James crush on Francis. Dedicated to @casperthefriendlylittlefan for constant cheerleading, encouragement and brainstorming, and for encouraging me to use my place-holder title for the fic instead of some pretentious thing.

Warnings for very bad language, frequent Britishisms, and Blanky. Also, this is still a WIP. Will be posted on AO3 when complete.

@casperthefriendlylittlefan @boisinberryjamarama @what-a-terrorific-mess @coffeesugarcream @hereliesnils @itisa-profoundbond-sarandom @the-jewish-marxist @cinemaocd @jaredharrisankles @thegreenmeridian - please PM me to be tagged in future installments/untagged/to ask questions/to say hi, etc. My love to all in the Fitzier fandom.

Episode One

“Look Francis… There’s no need to be so coy with me. I’m just saying that when you do finally announce this Westminster’s-worst-kept-secret leadership bid, you’re going to fucking need me on side, whether you want to admit it or not! Francis, Francis, for Christ’s sake, are you even listening to me?” James felt the irritation that was so specific to Francis Crozier crawling along his spine and scraping across the breadth of his shoulder blades as the older man turned his face away from him.

“You know Tom, I miss the days when acquaintances would address me as ‘Minister’.” Francis addressed his chief political aide as though James was not even in the room.

“Aye, them were the days. Respect, n’all that.” Grinned Tom Blanky, flanking Francis on his left side like a gangster’s hired muscle, while hulking, sullen-faced Ed Little did his strong, silent thing on his right.

Furious, James chose to ignore the two henchmen completely.

“Fucking hell, Francis, you’re an ignorant bastard! Are you really going to piss all over an olive branch when it’s handed to you?! Just give me a fucking clue, alright? You know, animal, vegetable, mineral. Give me something to fucking work with here. You owe me at least a brave fucking coming out story just to make up for the fucking cardigans, you -”

“’E’s talking about your cardigans again, Frank.” Blanky stage whispered, his eyes twinkling.

“Obsessed, I’d call it.” Rumbled the human boulder that was Ed Little from Francis’s other side.

“James, I’m ancient and boring and serious about political reforms. The electorate doesn’t give a flying fuck who I’m shagging or not shagging.” Francis sniped across the desk at him, his lip curling in that disdainful way he had.

James had heard colourful swearing out of Francis on innumerable occasions. The Irishman was legendary for his biting turns of phrase. But there was something about hearing him say the word ‘shagging’, and twice in one sentence no less, that made James fingers fumble with his expensive stainless steel clipboard, almost dropping it.

Tom Blanky’s shrewd and mocking eyes caught on James’ momentary discomfort at once, and the Yorkshireman smiled to himself.

James saw red.

“I give a flying fuck who you’re shagging, you Stalinist loon!” He shouted, and knew that he’d worded that wrong when three pairs of eyebrows rose laconically in response and a cacophony of titters could be heard from the shared office outside.

“Brave of yer to just come out with it like that.” Opined Blanky.

James threw one of his prized Paperchase paper-clips at him and it hit him squarely in the temple.

“Francis, you’re not thick enough to really believe that the electorate won’t care about your personal life, are you? They already care about what you wear. They care about how stupid you look riding a bike. They care about your bad hair cut and where you do your weekly shop. Of course they’ll care that you’re into men. Or both. Or whatever it is that you’re into. I’m just pre-empting the conversation for when you announce and inevitably want to hire me.”

Francis sneered at him crookedly. “Are you really so keen to jump ship from Sir-Just-Left-of-Centre, James?”

“Oh for God’s sake, Francis, who’d you think sent me? Sir John’s imminent resignation is the second worst kept secret in Westminster.”

“So it’s his olive branch I’m pissing on, then, and not yours...”

James hated him and his stupid, ruddy face.

“Do you want to be the next Prime Minister of Great Britain and Northern Ireland or not, you bolshy, gap-toothed wanker?” He yelled across the desk, a fine spray flying from his mouth.

Thomas Jopson, junior minister and probably the sweetest human being who had ever entered politics, barged through the office door.

“James, you are well out of order!” The young man exclaimed at a volume which James had never heard him achieve before.

This had a remarkable effect on the four men in the room.

Francis’s eyes instantly softened in a way James hadn’t been certain he was capable of. Ed Little let his aggressively pointing finger drop to his side and closed his open trap. Blanky slowly lowered the chipped mug he’d been aiming at James’ head and toned down his glower a fraction.

James looked down at his exquisitely expensive, fashionable brogues.

“It was beneath me to mention your teeth, Francis.” He admitted.

“None taken, you Oxbridge ponce.” Francis muttered. “But listen, you tell Sir Sell-out that if I need his help, I’ll send the prearranged signal, which is me stepping out into a taxi lane during rush hour.”

Ed Little snorted.

James seethed.

“Oh how easy it must be to refuse honours when you’ve never been offered any.” He hissed through his teeth, trying desperately to tamp down on his disappointment.

“Or when you have principles.” Francis shot back.

James sighed in bitter resignation and rubbed his temples with one hand.

“Fine. Good luck to you and your red cabal, Francis. You’ll need it.”

He gathered what remained of his dignity and left Francis’s office, ignoring the stares and murmurs from the assorted aides and secretaries sat at the desks outside as he made his way over to the lift.

Huffing in frustration, he turned to deliver one last glare at the bunch of Bolshevik wankers, only to nearly jump out of his skin when he found Tom Blanky perched on the nearest hot desk, regarding him with an inscrutable look.

James had no idea how a man with a bad leg could move so stealthily.

Blanky brandished the paper-clip which James had just thrown at him. It was pink and in the shape of an arrow. One of James’ favourites.

“I’m keepin’ this.” The Yorkshireman said with a cryptic grin, sliding the paper-clip triumphantly onto the hem of his shirt pocket.

James opened his mouth for a retort, but found that he had nothing, and so stepped, utterly defeated, into the now open doors of the lift.

*****

“So, go on then. How was your parley with Red Frank and his terrors?” Dundy asked him with a gleeful glint, as they sipped triple shot lattes in Cafe Nero the next morning.

“Like being shot at at close range by the cast of Auf Wiedersehen, Pet.” James mumbled unkindly.

Dundy laughed delightedly at him around a mouthful of biscotti. “Well. What did you expect. You haven’t exactly made an effort to be friendly with him before. He’s not just going to roll over the first time you pat his head, is he?”

“Can we dispense with the dog metaphors, Dundy, for fucks sake?” James was in no mood to rehash yesterday’s failure, even with his closest friend.

Dundy, as ever, blundered on regardless. “Look. He’s already got advisors. Such as they are. He’s got the grass-roots, and he’s the only candidate with a consistent political record. He’s bound to be a bit cocky right now. You just need to hop down off your gilded pony and come down to his level if you want to actually...”

“Wise words from the working class hero over here...” Snorted James inelegantly.

“Fitz, you know exactly what I’m saying...”

“Of course I know what you’re saying! It’s not just that he’s our only chance, it’s that he’s the best chance the party’s had in a while… I do get it. Politics is changing and we’ve got to change with it or we’ll find ourselves completely out of the loop. Francis does have the support. And I suppose he’s got a certain sort of… mass appeal. He’s got... natural authority, I mean… But these bastards...” James shoved at the pile of broadsheets in front of them. “Are going to completely tear him apart. He doesn’t see it yet, Dundy, but he needs me! And I’m trying this time! I actually tried! I actually want to help the cranky Irish bastard.”

Dundy demolished the last of his biscotti and then started chewing thoughtfully on James’ croissant.

Occasionally, James knew, his long-time colleague would deliver some glimmer of wisdom, so he waited patiently for it.

“You know Fitz, I knew you’d drunk the red koolaid. Seen it coming for a while now. But you have to admit, it’s more than that. You don’t just admire the ginger twat. You actually fancy him.”

James felt not a smidgen of guilt, after, for spraying a mouthful of lukewarm coffee over Dundy’s smug face.

*****

“Your latest cardigan’s gone over well with millennials on twitter, Francis.” Ed Little informed them in a tone which was as bright as the big man ever accomplished.

“Just what I always wanted, Edward. To be a fashion icon.” Francis gave him a wry smile.

“I bet Fitzjames is a fan too, Frank.” Blanky grinned from across the room. “Sadly, you’re still catching some heat in the broadsheets for our CND stance.”

“Guess I’ll just change my mind about the threat of mutually assured annihilation then...” Francis winked at Blanky before diving back to drafting his speech.

“We will sort of have to work with Fitzjames eventually though, won’t we?” Ed intoned glumly, as though carrying on from a previous conversation.

Francis met Blanky’s eye. “Of course we will. Our options are thin on the ground.” He sighed.

“But we’ll definitely make the posh bugger sweat first.” Blanky added, with relish.

*****

Episode Two here...

#fitzier #the thick of it AU #jimmy fitz is in love #the fitzier of it #fic

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therapy101 · 5 years ago

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I’ve been thinking about writing this post for weeks, but then I get nervous and I don’t. Today’s the day.

It’s about one of my past mentors. I’ve been thinking about him- I rarely gender identify actual people but in this case it’s important that he is a he – I’ve been thinking about him a lot, lately.

Because I’ve had some pretty huge successes this last year. Because he didn’t think I would. And maybe I thought that if I just got to this point- this assistant professor point, this not needing his approval or his letter of recommendation ever again point, this actually-I-can-care-about-real-people-and-do-good-science point –if I just made it here, he would fade away and I would never think about him again or seethe about the way he treated me while secretly hoping he would fall all over himself congratulating me again. I would just be and he would disappear. But he didn’t, and just this morning I was reading his twitter feed, seething and hoping.

I met him in undergrad. He invited me to be one of his RAs, and later, his TA. He gave me responsibilities that most undergrads don’t get. He wrote me a letter of recommendation for graduate school and then got another faculty member to write one too when I didn’t have enough. I babysat and dog-sat for him. We met on campus, and off campus- usually in groups, but not always. He bought me dinner and wine. After I received an offer to attend the program where he had received his PhD, he tearfully told me the program wasn’t good enough for me and he knew I would accept a better offer. Once, he surprised me- I have a strong startle reflex and didn’t see him coming –and he apologized profusely for days.

He built me up.

He openly discussed the strengths and weaknesses of his students, and which he liked best, which seemed to be based on who obeyed him and agreed with him the most. He told me- explicitly –that I should try harder to be one of his favorites. He criticized everything I did. He called me on a major holiday to complain about a draft I’d sent him and demand immediate revisions. He watched the tapes of me collecting data for our studies, and saved sections he didn’t like so he could show them to me. He didn’t like my facial expression (too mean) or my tone of voice (too flat, which contrasts weirdly with a later supervisor who thought I talked like a “valley girl”). He expected more from me. When it was time for my evaluation, instead of giving me feedback on my performance, he gave me feedback on my personality. He thought I was directionless, overly ambitious, “lost.” He thought I was wasting my talents on clinical psychology, because –according to him –it was total bullshit, a pseudointellectual exercise that makes therapists feel good but doesn’t actually help anyone, although he also didn’t really believe that mental health mattered enough to study either. A real scientist would pursue something else, like data science. I cried. I told him something nearly no one knows, a deep hurt from my past. He told me something similar. It might have been intended to make me feel better, this sharing of secrets, but I felt exposed and ripped open and burdened.

He tore me down.

A number of the people in my life at that time- my ex-boyfriend, my parents –thought we were having an affair. We weren’t, and I don’t remember any moment I thought he was testing the waters in that direction. But years later, I was looking at a list of signs of emotional abuse, and it all fit. We had that up-and-down, toxic-but-dedicated relationship you expect out of people who are in love even though they’re terrible for each other. I probably did love him, but I also hated him. My friends and family got used to me complaining about the latest frustrating or mean thing he’d done. Eventually they stopped asking why I continued to work with him. My mother told me that the number one reason she was excited for my upcoming graduation from college was that it meant I would never have to work with him again.

And I haven’t. I moved on. We talked occasionally at first and met up once, which was an awkward disaster that lead to a long text chat where he, possibly drunk and definitely emotional, apologized for not valuing me more. I didn’t know what to say. I felt invaded. We didn’t talk for years after that. Every once in awhile he made an overture- “when you visit next, let’s get a drink!” –and I was carefully polite but non-committal. Which isn’t to say I didn’t want to see him- I did –but something had changed for me in that strange meeting after I started graduate school. He was still talking about favorite students and what I should do to be one of them, and I felt disdainful. Why does he think I want to be one of them? I had a new mentor, who believed that mental health care, science, and social justice were intricately connected, has never commented on my appearance or my voice, and treats all of their students like they matter. Since then, I have had many mentors and supervisors- most good to excellent. I have had conflicts with mentors, but was mostly able to resolve them in ways where I felt respected and heard. I was not reliant on his approval anymore.

And yet, here I am, about a decade later, and I want his approval. Maybe more than that- I want him to acknowledge the scale of my success and that I achieved it despite him. I want to know that he knows that he treated me poorly, and not in some soppy, in-my-feelings way. Possibly perversely, it reminds me of that same ex-boyfriend, another toxic relationship that tore me down even in the good moments, that relied on me undervaluing myself and so not expecting any better from him. I don’t miss that ex-boyfriend, but I find myself in some moments wishing that he would recognize what he did wrong and sincerely apologize for it- not because he wants me back (he’s apologized in a “things will be different!” sort of way before, and it rings hollow), but because it’s the right thing to do. Neither of these things will happen.

The last time I was in therapy, my therapist and I talked about closure. She said something I think about a lot: sometimes you need to create your own closure, because the person you want it from isn’t going to do it for you. I hoped reaching this point in my career would be my closure: I had proved him wrong. But I don’t feel it yet.

#therapy101 #academia #toxic relationships #moving on

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ilovemesomekillianjones · 5 years ago

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The Soldier, the Witch, and the Dragon - A CSSNS 2019 One Shot

Summary: When soldier Killian Jones shows up on witch Emma Swan's doorstep, two worlds will collide. He will learn of worlds and wonders he never imagined possible and she will learn that true love might just be in the cards for her. Witches, Dragons, and Magic, Oh My! A CS one shot for the 2019 Captain Swan Supernatural Summer event.

A/N: Thank you to @spartanguard for masterfully crafting the banner above and this CS edit to accompany my story, it is magnificent. I love it Kaitlyn!!! @hollyethecurious - much appreciation for being the extra set of eyes to fine tune this tale. And finally, thank you @cssns for bringing together so many talented writers and artists to put together another phenomenal collection of supernatural content for all of us CS lovers.

ao3 ffnet Rated M 15K+

July, 1865

In spectacular fashion, as was customary for him, Killian Jones staggered up the two steps of the single dwelling nestled among the foliage of a supposedly haunted wood. Bloodied and bruised he slumped against the door frame, grunting as the raw nerves of his severed hand met with the rough wood. He brought his other hand to the door and rapped his knuckles against what he hoped to be the entryway to his last chance for salvation, before passing out. Spectacular fashion indeed.

Two days ago…

“Since you are representing yourself, Mr. Jones, you are charged with desertion, how do you plead?” the judge questioned.

“Not guilty,” Killian Jones stated definitively.

“You deserted during war time, is this not true?”

“Semantics.”

“Your honor he deserted the Confederacy in May of 1861,” the prosecuting lawyer argued.

“Your Honor, if I may?” Killian asked.

The judge nodded his head in Killian’s direction, allowing him his defense.

“I merely recognized I was fighting for the wrong side.” Killian smiled his most brilliant smile as if this one statement had won his case.

“Come again, son?”

“You’re required to be impartial, yes, Your Honor?”

The judge nodded curtly.

“I was involuntarily drafted into this war by the Confederacy. Being a former slave myself, sold into it by my father, I would never support such an agenda.” Years of practicing a cool and collected demeanor were working in Killian’s favor as he maintained the facade that hid his disgust for the Confederacy and all it stood for. “Therefore, I did not desert in time of war, I simply... switched sides,” he declared with a flourish of his hand.

“Then you are an enemy of the Confederacy,” the judge amended.

“I beg to differ,” Killian said cheekily, “how can I be an enemy of something that does not exist?”

A low buzz broke out across the courtroom as discourse ran rampant among the lot of Confederate diehards. Killian wondered if they even knew the war was over, and they’d lost.

“All good points you bring up, Mr. Jones. Unfortunately, I am not here for good points, I am here to uphold the law to the best of my ability. As such, I hereby by find you guilty of the charge of desertion during war time. In addition, I am adding and find you guilty of the crime of treason and as such, I sentence you to be hanged tomorrow at noon.”

Before Killian could react to what was happening he was roughly being hauled away by the bailiff and thrown into the shitty cell he’d been sitting in for the last three weeks. His jaw clenched as he lay on the ground where he’d been tossed.

One moment he’d been enjoying rum, riches, and wealth via his stellar poker playing skills and the next he’d been dragged from his bar of choice, carted hundreds of miles, and hauled into this cell. Where had he gone wrong? Perhaps he never should’ve left England with his father and brother, after his mother’s death. Then he never would have been sold into slavery, subsequently landing here in the south.

“On your feet, soldier,” the guard on duty barked.

“For what?” Killian spat.

“For your superior officer,” a familiar, grating voice said.

Killian’s eyes rolled so far back in his head he was sure they might get stuck there. There was nothing superior about this man, nothing. “Captain Cassidy, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Just came to settle a debt, Jones.”

“Ah, I guess my trial was over before it started, makes sense now.”

“You killed my father, you traitorous son of a bitch.”

“He deserved it, Neal,” Killian gritted out, jumping to his feet to meet his former friend against the bars of the cell. “He killed women and children in the name of being victorious for a losing side.”

Neal shrugged his shoulders. “You should have left well enough alone instead of coming back.”

“I didn’t have a choice, it was me or him! I didn’t seek him out, we were engaged in combat.”

Neal reached through the bars and grabbed Killian by the shirt. “Semantics. Isn’t that what you always said? You say didn’t have a choice, I say murdered in cold blood.” He threw Killian back as he seethed the last words. “You’ll never see that noose tomorrow, but you’ll wish you were hanged by the time I’m done with you.”

乂❤乂❤乂

“Wake up! Come back to me.”

Killian smiled as the feminine voice washed over him, adding to the weightlessness he felt. It made all movement a little cumbersome, but he felt healthier than he had during the past month, and he was blessedly pain free for the moment. That is until a stinging slap collided with his cheek. His brow furrowed and a grimace replaced the easy smile that had graced his lips. He struggled to open his eyes to see just who was attached to the voice that currently worried over him.

“Don’t die,” the voice repeated, “it’s the only thing I can’t fix.”

A doctor! he thought as relief washed over him. But when he was finally able to command the muscles of his eyelids, he was greeted by an angel. She was dressed in all white and a halo of blonde tresses cascaded over her shoulders, which positively emitted a golden glow around her being. He thought to himself, if he was dead then there were two things he was grateful for. One, he’d made it into heaven and two, the angelic being before him.

“Hey beautiful,” he rasped out before attempting to throw her his most devilish smolder.

“Oh! Are you in pain?” she asked.

“Not at the moment, which is more than I can say for the last forty-eight hours. Why?”

“You just made a face, I thought maybe your wounds were causing you pain. It would be quite odd if you were experiencing any pain, though. So maybe that’s your normal face?”

So, not a devilish smolder that he’d made then. “If it’s devilishly handsome, it’s my normal face. If not, you are not getting the full effect.”

“Whatever you say,” she said noncommittally.

Do angels really roll their eyes and scoff? Killian wondered.

“You sure are arrogant for a man who passed out after being on the losing end of some sort of fight.”

It was Killian’s turn to scoff. “I do not lose.” He had passed out though, he thought as he reached up sheepishly to scratch behind his ear. “Bloody Hell!” he yelled as something pierced said spot.

“Careful,” the angel chastised as she pulled his arm away from his head. “That thing is a weapon now.”

Killian looked at his left hand, or what should be his left hand. “What the devil have you done to my hand?” Killian looked around in a panic as the events of the past several weeks came flooding back to him. “Where am I? Who are you? Who do you work for?” He was yelling as he realized he was in an unfamiliar room, laid up in a bed that wasn’t his.

“Hey! You showed up here without your hand!” she exclaimed, jumping up from the side of the bed. She backed away from him, anguish washing over her face. “I- I didn’t do anything but try to help you.” She shook her hands as if to cleanse the aura in the room.

Killian gasped as pain seared through him. His wrist burned as if it had been jammed into salt, and his arm felt as though it was going to explode. His throat was parched, and suddenly he was gasping for air. He curled in on himself trying to shut out the pain. “Please! Stop! Please, you’re hurting me.” He pleaded for the blond haired angel turned demon to stop whatever it was she was doing.

“I’m not doing anything to you! You… you distracted me!”

“I’m sorry I yelled,” he rasped.

Inhaling deeply, the woman sat back down next to him and brushed the hair from his forehead. Closing her eyes she shook her hands out once more before sitting in concentrated silence.

Killian’s whole body relaxed as a soothing ambiance floated through him, and after a few moments the pain began to recede. “Thank you, love.”

“I’m not your love,” she scolded, opening her eyes.

“Pity.”

“If you’re going to flirt so outlandishly shouldn’t I at least know your name?”

“Apologies, lass, Killian Jones at your service,” he greeted, extending his right, and now only hand. A smooth flow of positive energy flowed through him when she took his hand. “And you might be?”

“Emma Swan.”

“Lovely to meet you, Emma Swan. Are you my guardian angel? Did you draw me here, in my time of need with your powers of guardianship? Or did I just happen to stumble upon a random angel?”

Emma laughed out loud, an angelic sound if you asked Killian, which is what made her next words even more difficult to fathom.

“I’m no angel,” she chuckled. “But since you are obviously a believer in otherworldly beings, perhaps I can tell you what I am. And if I can’t trust you with my secret, I can always cast a memory spell on you.”

“A memory spell?” Killian enunciated as he tried to grasp the words.

“Just who are you, Swan?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I do believe I asked.”

“I’m a witch.”

It was Killian’s turn to laugh aloud. “There is no way you are a witch, darling-”

“Em-ma,” she corrected.

“Where is your broomstick and black pointy hat, Emma? And your laugh, that was most definitely not a cackle.”

“It is not a prerequisite of a witch to own a broomstick, or black pointy hat, Jones. Nor do we all own cats and have warts. Though I suppose if that’s your biggest concern with me being a witch, we’re in a pretty good place.”

“If you want to join me here on the bed, we could get to an even better place.” He ran his tongue along his lower lip before biting it and cocking an eyebrow at her.

“In your dreams,” she laughed.

“I do hope so.”

“I just told you I’m a witch, and your response is to flirt more?”

“Perhaps you’ve bewitched me with your beauty and grace?”

“Do you ever stop?” Emma asked as a lovely blush colored her cheeks.

“Do you want me to?” Killian asked softly. A crack of a smile curved Emma’s lips and he hoped she could feel his sincerity, he would stop if she asked him to. He wasn’t quite sure why, but he felt like he’d do anything she asked of him.

“Get some rest Jones, and when you wake we will eat and you can tell me what happened to you.”

Killian yawned heartily as a wave of exhaustion rolled over him. “But I don’t want to sleep.”

“But you need your rest,” Emma insisted.

“Do you have magic,” he asked as he became increasingly tired. The last thing Killian saw was Emma flicking her wrist as a dragon came to rest on her shoulders. A dragon? he thought, then he drifted out of consciousness and into dreamland.

乂❤乂❤乂

“I think we were meant for each other,” Emma whispered into his ear, causing a shiver to course through his body. His eyes were closed and his body was light, yet responsive to her every word and touch.

In his heart he knew she was right. He could feel the connection, mind, body, and soul. “I am yours, love.”

“And I am yours,” she promised as she pressed against his entire body.

Killian shivered again as she gently raked her fingers through his hair and fisted her other hand into the hair on his chest. Her lips hovered just above his as she told him she was going to kiss him now. He eagerly awaited the press of her soft lips as he attempted to wrap his arms around her. Damn, how he wished to hold her.

“Killian.”

What was she waiting for? Where was his kiss? Why couldn’t he reach out to embrace her?

“Killian?”

“What are you waiting for, Swan? It’s bad form to tell a man you’re going to kiss him and then tease him so.”

Her soft chuckle had him opening his eyes. “What’s so funny?” he asked playfully. As the room came into focus, she was no longer laying next to him, but standing at the small table by the kitchen. “And why aren’t you laying with me anymore?”

“I think someone was dreaming,” Emma whispered, giggling again.

“Bollocks,” Killian muttered as he dropped his head back down to the pillow. It had seemed so real, not just her physical presence, but the love. He’d felt her love.

“I’m not going to ask him that,” she scolded. “It’s none of our business what he dreams about!”

Killian tensed as he realized there was someone else in her home. Of course there was. Someone as beautiful and benevolent as this woman was sure to have a significant other.

Attempting to stand up, which was not nearly as fluid as his normal movement, he cleared his throat. He settled for sitting up in bed for the moment. “Apologies, it appears I have overstayed my welcome, I should be on my way.”

Emma cocked her head, looking at him with a perplexed expression. “You don’t have to go.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose on you and…” Killian looked around the room, searching for the person she’d been talking to. “Uh… wasn’t there someone else here just a moment ago?”

Emma blushed profusely as she looked toward the corner of the kitchen. “Not exactly someone.”

“Were you talking to yourself then?”

“No,” she answered indignantly. “I was talking to Henry.”

So there was a man in Emma’s life. “Ah, I see.” He really didn’t, since he couldn’t see this Henry fellow. “Best take my leave now. Any chance I can have my shirt back?” Looking around the small cabin, Killian spotted his boots by the front door.

“Sure,” she said quietly.

He watched as she slowly walked to the basin and picked up his shirt. Great, it was still dripping wet, at least all the blood stains were gone. That would make it a little easier to blend in when he moved on to the next town.

“We can’t force him to stay,” she hissed.

Killian quirked an eyebrow as he watched her argue with a spot on the wall.

When she turned her eyes back to him, he averted his, not wishing to embarrass her. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but something was definitely a little strange. Unable to look away any longer he chanced a glance back at her. She was still staring at him, almost longingly, he thought. He jumped when with a small flick of her hand the shirt was not only dry, but also back on his body. He was jarred back to right before he’d dozed off, he’d asked if she had magic. Unless he’d lost more than just his hand, oh yeah, that, he was pretty sure she did have magic.

“I made dinner if you want to eat before you go?”

Killian wondered why she sounded so defeated, seemed almost sad at the prospect of either dinner or him leaving. “I don’t wish to impose on you and Henry.”

“We don’t mind,” she rushed out.

“Okaaaay… and you’re sure Henry won’t mind?”

“Of course not,” she said excitedly. “Tell him, Henry.”

Killian’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head as he realized she must have an imaginary friend. Who was he to judge, though? It must get lonely in these woods where most wouldn’t dare venture. She must not know many others of her type. Killian was pulled from his musing when a bird suddenly swooped from above and circled his head. “What the devil? How did a bird get in here?” Waving his hand in the air, he attempted to shoo the bird away.

“That’s Henry,” Emma laughed.

“Henry’s a bird?” he asked.

“No,” Emma said, walking toward him. “Settle down, Henry.”

The little guy landed on Killian’s shoulder and he was overcome with a sense of being welcomed. “How did he do that?”

“Do what?” she asked.

“Invite me to dinner.”

“I invited you to dinner.”

“You told him to tell me it was okay, and now he is sitting on my shoulder and somehow he has communicated to me that it’s okay to stay for dinner. He let me know you both want me to stay for dinner. Does he have magic, like you?”

Emma’s eyes widened. “He did?”

Killian gave a small nod as she seemed to contemplate something.

“Well, since you didn’t balk when I told you I was a witch, I guess I can tell you about Henry.”

“You can tell me anything,” Killian said as he sat forward. He wanted to hear anything and everything Emma Swan wanted to tell him. That feeling of absolute love was back, and although he couldn’t fathom the idea of loving someone so soon after meeting them, he also couldn’t deny the feeling.

“Henry is what you might call a power animal or a spirit animal. He’s my power animal.”

“Power animal?” Killian repeated.

“Power animals are supernatural creatures that convey influence. They can also give a person the powerful traits and characteristics of the animal. They walk through life with certain people, teaching and guiding them, and sometimes protecting them.”

“Do I have a power animal?”

“Everyone has a power animal. They usually only reveal themselves when you need them. Or when…”

“When what?” Killian asked with rapt fascination.

“Dinner’s ready,” Emma said, changing the subject abruptly. “Oh, and Henry is not a bird. He’s a dragon.”

Killian tensed up as he slowly turned his head to try and see the small dragon sitting on his shoulder. He wasn’t so sure allowing a dragon to sit on one’s shoulder was a good idea. As soon as he thought the idea, Henry was communicating to him that he was perfectly safe.

“That is so weird,” Killian murmured.

I know, Henry seemed to say.

“You get used to it,” Emma said with the sweetest smile on her face. “Henry, can you help him over to the table?”

Without too much effort, Killian was up and moving toward the table. He couldn’t believe how… normal he felt. As if he hadn’t had the crap beaten out of him and his hand lopped off. Oh yeah, that. “So, what’s with the hook?” he asked as he sat down at the table to a hearty looking stew and bread.

“I uhh… I don’t know, I just thought it would be utilitarian.”

“A hook?”

Henry landed on Emma’s shoulder and chirped loudly at her. “It is not a lie,” she snapped back. Henry seemed to cock his head in disbelief, and Killian just chuckled at their interaction.

“Sure, you can use it to scratch, stab, eat-”

“Like a pirate?” he asked, just a little outraged at the barbarism she was implying he might employ.

She just laughed at his reaction before continuing, “It would also serve you well in the thick woods, and it’s easier to hold than a hand.” Emma reached across the table to grasp the hook as if trying to prove her statement.

Although it was an inanimate object, Killian could swear he felt that same unconditional love through her firm grasp. “I guess it has its perks,” he said, somewhat lovestruck.

They ate in comfortable silence for a few moments before Emma spoke again. “Can I ask you a question, Killian?”

“Anything.”

“What were you dreaming about?”

A blush crept up his cheeks as he contemplated his answer. He debated brushing it off, or making something up, but then Henry landed on his shoulder and he felt an esoteric need to tell her. “I dreamt we were in love, I don’t know how, I don’t know why, I just know we were truly in love... and you were going to kiss me.”

“Really?”

“Aye, love. I wouldn’t make that up. Sadly I was woken before the kiss.”

“What a shame,” Emma teased. “I’m sorry Henry and I woke you.”

“You could make it up to me, you know.”

“A healed arm, no pain, dinner, and a roof over your head not enough, Jones?”

Killian roared with laughter. “Well, when you put it like that, I guess I do sound like a greedy bastard.”

Emma stood up from the table and began to clear away the dishes. Killian grabbed his bowl and took it to the basin. “If you have magic, why do you continue mundane tasks like dishes?”

“I try not to use magic for every little thing. It helps me to pretend I’m normal.”

“Why would you want to be normal when you have super powers?”

“That’s a story for another time,” Emma murmured. She pointed to Henry, who was still propped on Killian’s shoulder. “And don’t you dare, mister, no compelling me to spill all my secrets.”

Killian gave Henry a conspiratorial look, maybe later, he tried to tell the mini dragon. Too say he was shocked was an understatement when Henry actually winked at him.

“And no ganging up on me!” Emma ordered.

“If Henry is your power animal, why can he communicate with me?” Killian asked.

Emma narrowed her eyes, giving Henry a dirty look. “Did you tell him to ask me that?”

Henry ruffled his wings as if offended by the accusation. “Why would he tell me to ask that?” Killian’s curiosity was definitely piqued now.

“Never you mind,” Emma said walking away from the basin. With small flicks of her wrist she lit several oil lamps and went to sit on the settee.

Henry urged Killian to join her, so he did. He wasn’t quite sure why Emma was clamming up when it came to elaborating about Henry and power animals, but he decided to leave it be. “May I ask why you live out here in these haunted woods?”

Emma snorted in a decisively unladylike manner as she repeated the word with disdain. “Haunted. They’re not haunted, I just don’t want anyone bothering me. So I may wreak a little havoc when people get too close.”

“Doesn’t it get lonely?”

“I’ve never really noticed. I have Henry and I can go to town when I wish.”

Killian looked around the small cabin, it was quite homey and comforting. He supposed that’s all some people required.

“How about you? Did you live alone before you found yourself at my doorstep?”

“I haven’t lived anywhere for a very long time.” A bit of melancholy worked its way into his voice as he answered truthfully. He looked back to Emma and the inquisitive expression she wore. “I suppose that answer was a bit cryptic, but just as you said earlier, that is a story for another time.”

Emma smiled graciously, letting Killian know she wouldn’t push.

Over the next several hours they chatted easily, including Killian telling her the story of how he’d come to lose his hand. Henry had long since taken up residence between her shoulder and hair and was quietly snoring. Killian only became slightly alarmed when Henry emitted several smoke filled exhales.

“Is he going to ignite?”

“No,” Emma giggled. “He is a fire breathing dragon, though, and sometimes when he dreams he gets a little heated.” She yawned, covering her mouth and apologizing. “It’s almost three in the morning!”

Not realizing how late it had gotten, Killian told her, “You take the bed. I’ll sleep here, on the sofa.”

“Absolutely not! You’re not healed yet.”

“I am mending just fine. Besides, a gentleman would never make a lady sleep anywhere else when a bed is available.”

Emma stood up and offered her hand to him. “Gentleman?” she laughed.

“I’m always a gentleman, Swan.”

“Come on, we can both fit.”

Killian shook his head, and slid his hand behind his back. “That’s not necessary.”

“What? Are you afraid you won’t be able to resist my feminine wiles?”

Something like that, Killian thought.

“Stop being a baby.” Before he could stop her, she grabbed his hook and dragged him to a standing position. She led him over to the bed and with a flick of her wrist he was wearing sleeping clothes he’d never seen before. “Now get in the bed, before Henry has to make you.”

Killian held up hand and hook in surrender before climbing into the comfortable bed. “What are you doing?” he gasped as he looked over to see her lifting her skirts.

“I’m changing into my nightie,” she replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Do you suppose for propriety’s sake, or at least my sanity, you might just poof yourself into some night clothes like you did me?”

“Poof?” Emma snickered.

“Yes, you know, magic them onto yourself.”

“You could just look away.”

He knew he could, he just didn’t want to make himself. Her creamy thighs were delectable, and it had been a score. Well, that was an overestimation, but it’d been a long while since he’d looked upon a gorgeous woman. He could feel himself stiffening and had to adjust himself in the thin pants he was wearing. Where was Henry to douse his damnable lust!

“Yes, I could,” he lamented, looking around the cabin, anywhere but in her direction. Still, knowing she was blissfully uncovered had him stirring further. He spotted Henry across the room, curled up on the settee, head under his wing and tail wrapped around himself protectively. Killian guessed he’d have to persuade himself to calm down.

“There, see. All done, and no worse for the wear,” she stated as she climbed into the bed next to him.

Killian’s tight pants begged to differ. Scrubbing a hand over his face he rolled over to face away from her. “Good night, Emma.”

“Good night, Killian.”

乂❤乂❤乂

“You are meant for each other,” the dragon stated matter-of-factly. “You’ve been destined to meet since the moment she was born. She was born many years before you, but was cursed by a jealous witch to walk the world alone..”

“How long ago?”

“Several lifetimes.”

“Why can you talk to me?”

“Because this is a dream.”

“Even when I’m not dreaming, we understand each other.”

Henry grinned at him knowingly. “That is because I am your power animal as well.”

“What? How can that be? How can two people share a power animal?”

“If those two people-

“Henry!”

Killian sat bolt upright in bed as reality came back in on the wings of a dragon who was chirping, angrily if Killian was not mistaken, at Emma.

“It’s my secret to tell!” She was dressed with a flick of her wrist, wearing another flowy white dress, and out the door before Killian could ask what happened.

Standing up to stretch, he was suddenly hit with a wave of pain. The same pain from the day before sliced through his wrist and forearm. Sweat broke out across his forehead and he struggled for air. Collapsing back on the bed black spots infiltrated his vision as he bordered the lines of consciousness. Henry was there on his chest momentarily, and Killian watched as the mini dragon closed his eyes. He was immediately flooded with a cooling sensation and the pain subsided quickly.

“Thank you, Henry.”

Once he’d caught his breath he asked the dragon where to find Emma. Henry let him know he would lead him there. Looking at the clock he couldn’t believe it was already past noon; they had been up late the night before, so he supposed oversleeping was excusable this once. Rummaging around the cupboards he grabbed a canteen, some biscuits, and fruit and put them into a basket from the counter. “Henry, where is my uniform?” he called out as he grabbed his boots.

Henry chirped to him from the bed. When Killian walked over he saw the dragon was sitting upon a fresh pair of pants and a pressed shirt. “Where did this come from?” He certainly did not wish to wear someone else’s clothes. If dragons could roll their eyes, Killian was certain Henry just had. “Well, how was I supposed to know you also have magic?”

“Yes, you’re right, you are a mystical, fire breathing creature, I guess it’s not too far of a stretch for you to have magic.” Killian chuckled as he remembered how odd it’d looked when Emma appeared to be talking to herself yesterday, and now here he was doing the same thing. “Wait! I dreamt you told me you are my power animal as well as Emma’s!” Killian exclaimed as his dream came back to him.

Killian was greeted with utter silence. “Oh, now you’re going to clam up, mate?”

Henry simply shrugged his wings. “Okay, here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to find Emma and then you are going to make yourself scarce.”

Henry nodded.

Killian wasn’t sure how, but they had a story. He didn’t know what it was, but this woman he barely knew had captured his heart. A fierce determination coursed through his veins with each beat of his heart, and Killian intended to find out just how he fit into this tale. “Wait,” he looked to Henry, “are you making me feel this bravado?”

Henry shook his head adamantly. He also conveyed to Killian that he was done interfering and overstepping.

“You don’t like when Emma’s cross with you, do you pal?”

The dragon hung his head, Killian had hit the nail on the head. “Well never fear,” he said holding his hand- uh... hook up in the air, “Captain Killian Jones is here. I will fix this.”

“No! You may not call me Captain Hook.” He stared daggers at the dragon as the jibe came through. “Yes, it is fitting, I just don’t like it.”

“Okay, fine. It is rather lethal sounding,” Killian acquiesced as Henry continued to emote reasons why this name would be perfect. “But only you can call me that. Don’t go spreading the word.”

The two left the cabin in search of Emma. It wasn’t a far walk, she’d be near the water, Henry had assured him. And the little guy was right, the trees of the forest broke to a small bank along the shore of a glassy blue lake. Emma sat at the edge, her dress pulled up so she could dip her feet in the icy water as she leaned against a large fallen tree.

“I thought you might be hungry,” Killian spoke softly as he walked up behind her.

“Is the traitor with you?”

A smile broke across his face as he realized both he and Henry were being wrongfully accused of being traitors. He was sure Henry’s sentence would be much lighter, just a cold shoulder and grudge from this beautiful angel. He contemplated if it might be worse than a death sentence to have Emma Swan angry with you.

“He’s not-”

“Good.”

“You didn’t let me finish, love. He’s not a traitor.”

Emma whipped around where she sat and scrutinized Killian. “So you’re taking his side?”

Was he really being accused of being a traitor… again. Sitting down next to her, he offered her the basket. “There is no side to take, you two are a team.” An errant thought of wanting to be part of that team flitted through his mind and a small, shy smile graced his lips as he looked down at the ground.

“I think he wants to be on your team,” Emma huffed.

“Maybe he wants us to all be a team?” Killian couldn’t resist the perfect opportunity to speak those words aloud. He was floored as emotion after emotion crossed her face while she seemed to study him. He imagined she was gauging the legitimacy of his words. “I’m not sure how, but I know there is something between you and I, something real, and deep. And I want to figure it out with you, without the influence of Henry… because when I win your heart, Emma - and I will win it, it won’t be because of any trickery. It will be because you want me.”

Before he could read her reaction, he was being pulled by the lapels of his magicked shirt and he was positive she was about to kiss him. Just before her lips could touch his, a loud chirping sounded within the small haven they’d created around themselves.

“Henry, we talked about this. No interfering, right?” Killian asked with a trace of irritation in his voice.

“Shhh! There’s someone here,” Emma hissed. “Henry, how far are they?”

Killian looked between the two of them, the panicked look on Emma’s face and the haphazard flapping of Henry’s wings, and he knew treachery was afoot. “Who is it,” he whispered.

Soldiers, Henry projected, two.

“Emma, you and Henry go back to the cabin. I have to take care of this, I won’t risk either of you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not handling anything in your condition! If I leave, you’ll be writhing around on the ground like a snake in pain.”

Killian rolled his eyes. “It’s not that bad.”

Emma raised an eyebrow at him and Killian could tell the moment she lifted some of the effects of whatever dampening spell she was masking his pain with. “Fine, but stay hidden.” He watched as Emma and Henry shared a look and knew right away that his request was not going to be met.

“You keep him out of pain, and I will fight with him,” Emma said to Henry who gave a nod to confirm her idea of the plan. “Stay in the trees, I don’t want them to see you. And I’m sorry I got mad at you.” Henry flew over to Emma’s shoulder and nuzzled her cheek with his nose. “Yes, you did overstep. But I overreacted, too.”

Despite the danger lurking, Killian was inexplicably relieved that Emma and Henry had made up. As Henry took to the trees, Emma and Killian braced for the intruders.

“Killian Jones, war criminal and traitor, surrender yourself and no one gets hurt,” a man shouted from beyond their scope of sight.

“What do you want from him?” Emma shouted, grasping Killian’s hook.

“Going to let the little lady speak for you?”

“I’ll be speaking for myself,” Killian gritted out as Cassidy showed himself at the treeline.

“You’re a convicted traitor and deserter,” the other man added, “you’re to be hanged. I hereby place you under arrest. If you come willingly, no one will get hurt.”

“You’ve got the wrong man,” Emma argued. “Killian is a good man, he would never do those things.”

“He deserted the Confederacy in order to fight for the Union. If that’s not a traitor, I don’t know what is, little lady.”

“Stop calling me little lady,” Emma spat. “And if you’d told me he deserted the Confederacy the first time you spoke, I’d have applauded.”

“Oh, did he tell you his sob story of being a slave? Did he brainwash you into believing the North is superior?”

Emma glanced at Killian as if sizing up the affect Cassidy’s words were having on him. “He’s told me nothing. I just know which side I’d choose. Every once in a while, there is an underdog no one can root for.”

Killian wished he had the ability to communicate to Emma silently right now. She was unaware of how easily Neal could be rattled, and right now she was shaking the cage quite hard. “I’m not going with you, Neal. I’m not a criminal, all is fair in love and war.”

“Where’d you get that shit, all those fancy books you like to read?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. Yes, I did.” Killian’s smug grin turned into a gulp as both men drew their rifles. Apparently he was also unaware of how easily Neal was rattled.

“Hands up, Jones. I’m taking you in. Shackle him, Felix,” Neal commanded the other man.

“I told you I’m not going with you,” Killian repeated. “You’ll have to shoot me, but let her go first.”

“No!” Emma shouted.

“No,” Neal answered, “I don’t think I will. I think I’ll take her as a prize.”

Neal set down his rifle, while signaling for Felix to keep his trained on Killian and Emma. He approached her with a sickening leer upon his face. “Yeah, I think I will take her right here. I’ll let you watch, Jones.”

“Over my dead body,” Killian spat as he moved to stand in front of Emma.

“That can be arranged,” Neal nodded at Felix, “shoot him.”

In the time it took Felix to cock his rifle, Emma shot her hand out toward Felix, and as he pulled the trigger a spark flared and it misfired, blasting hot gun powder into his face. Dropping the weapon, he shrieked in pain as he ran toward the water.

“What did you do to him?” Neal screamed as he charged toward Emma.

“It was a misfire,” Killian yelled pushing Neal back. “Not so tough without your gun, are you?” Killian taunted as Neal reached for his gun, obviously forgetting he’d left it back by Felix. “Let’s settle this like men. You and me, fisticuffs.”

“You want to lose your other hand?”

“In what world would you take my hand without weapons?”

“Who said no weapons?” Neal asked as he drew a boot knife and lunged toward Killian. Slashing out wildly, Neal connected with Killian’s face, slicing him. “You’ve got a fucking hook for a hand.”

Oh yeah, that. Killian jumped back as Neal made another pass with the knife. When Neal advanced again, Killian shot his left hand in front of him and deflected the blade, causing a clank of metal against metal to ring out.

The two grappled back and forth, punch for punch, knife and hook competing for the upper hand. Both men panted heavily as they fought on. Felix was still down at the lake dousing his eyes and face in the water, while Emma made sure he stayed put and kept an eye on Killian. She could, no doubt, end this thing with a flick of her magical wrist, but perhaps for Killian’s pride, she wasn’t interceding.

Blood dripped down Killian’s face where Neal had cut a gash across his right cheek, his left eye was swollen almost shut, and his ribs were burning. Neal had two swollen eyes, a puncture wound to his right forearm, and a sprained ankle from where he’d tripped over a log as Killian lunged at him.

“I don’t wish to kill you, Neal,” Killian appealed to Neal where he lay on the ground after tripping. He knelt above the man, fist still cocked and hook at his neck. “If you have another solution as to how you and your lackey can return home and I can stay here, tell me now.”

“You’ll have to kill me,” Neal growled. He grasped Killian’s forearm trying to push the hook away from his neck, but it was no use as Killian threw his weight into pinning the man down.

“There is another solution,” Emma spoke quietly from where she’d perched herself on the same fallen log which had foiled Neal.

“And what’s that, love?” Killian asked.

“I could make them forget.”

“Make them forget…”

“Anything. Everything.” She stood from the log and walked up to Killian’s side. “I could make them forget that they found you or I could make them forget that it is their mission to find you. I could make them forget who they are. It just depends on what level you want to take it to.”

“I knew she did something to Felix. Is she a witch?”

“Well, since it seems we will be erasing your memory soon enough, yes, she is a witch.”

Neal withdrew his hands from Killian’s forearm and formed a cross, apparently trying to ward her and her evil off.

Emma laughed loudly at his antics. “I’m not the devil, that cross won’t do you any good today.” With a flick of her wrist Neal and Felix were both shackled and sitting with their mouths gagged. “How about instead of erasing their memories completely, I give them false memories?”

“What do you have in mind, Swan?”

“For starters, they are going to remember that they found the remains of Killian Jones, that there was no prisoner to bring back to their commanding officer. They will feel that their mission is complete, and they’ll have no recollection of this place or me. Any ideas on where they found you?”

“Hmmm,” Killian thought as he wrapped an arm around Emma. “I think they discovered my remains way up North, they should have a grand time in these fine Confederate uniforms.”

Neal tried to yell through the gag, but only mumbled nonsense could be heard.

“That’s just mean, Killian Jones.”

“He tried to kill us,” Killian argued.

“True,” Emma agreed. “North it is. Heart of Boston? ”

Felix shook his head vigorously, “Uh-uh,” he pleaded through the gag.

“Now who’s being mean?”

“That is a little harsh,” she cackled. “Okay, I will put them on the outskirts of the North, where they might have a fighting chance,” she paused to look both men in the eyes, “if they get their shit together real quick.” She kissed Killian on the cheek quickly before telling him to back up.

Killian watched in awe, from a safe distance, as Emma rubbed her hands together and focused in on her craft. She glowed with magic and the wind swept up around them, she was positively mystical as her hair flew wildly. She was murmuring quietly, her eyes closed when suddenly a brightly colored vortex opened up in the middle of the ground.

Henry landed on Killian’s shoulder at that moment and sent calming vibes through him just as he started to experience small prickles of fear, not fear of Emma, but of the situation. As abruptly as the vortex had appeared, it swallowed Neal and Felix whole and disappeared. “Swan! You were bloody brilliant, amazing!”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Emma crumpled to the ground in a limp heap. “Emma!” He ran to her side kneeling next to her and sweeping her into her arms. “Emma, come back to me.”

“I’m okay,” Emma whispered faintly.

Killian smiled as she regained consciousness, albeit a tenuous hold on it. “I don’t mean to upset you, Emma, but I think we make quite the team.”

“Why would that upset me?”

“You passed out when I told you you’re brilliant. I wasn’t sure how you’d handle me saying we are brilliant together,” he teased.

She giggled, that shy tinkling giggle before once again losing consciousness.

He caressed her cheek with his good hand and felt the flush of her overheated skin. “Henry, what’s wrong with her, is she ill?”

Too much magic, Henry broadcast. She will be okay.

“How do you know?” Killian asked desperately. Killian listened as Henry transmitted that this had happened before, any time she used a significant amount of magic.

Gently lifting her, despite the injuries he’d sustained today as well as his previous ones, he carried her over to the lake’s edge, where she’d been sitting when he’d arrived. Sitting down, he leaned against the log and held her. He marveled at how well he felt, the magic used to keep him pain free must be very powerful. It damn sure beat morphine.

“Emma, wake up darling.” He dipped his hand in the chilly water and brushed it across her forehead.

“Hmmm,” she hummed. Stretching her body while still in his arms, Emma curled into his embrace.

Deciding it was probably best to rest he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Henry, keep watch?”

Aye aye, Captain Hook.

Killian cracked an eye open to look at Henry as he chuckled. “Yeah, I suppose it does have a ring to it.”

乂❤乂❤乂

The next time Killian opened his eyes, Emma was gone. He startled as he realized she wasn’t in his arms. A quick glance around showed she was in the lake. All that was visible was her water slicked hair and bare shoulders. “Isn’t that cold?”

Emma turned around to face him and he thanked the heavens that the most delectable parts of her body were fully submerged. “It’s wonderful once you get in.” She brought her hands up to her hair to ring it out and tie it in a knot. “Join me?”

Killian would’ve been certain his eyes had fallen out of his head except he could still see.

“Come on, you’re all bloody. Let’s get you cleaned up here instead of my basin.”

Still deep in thought over the repercussions of bathing nude with her, Killian stood up and took off his shirt. He proceeded to walk to the water but stopped when Emma asked what he was doing. “I thought you wanted me to join you.”

“I do,” she laughed, “but not with your pants on. You’ll be soaked for hours.”

Killian knew she could just dry them, but maybe that was selfish after all the energy she’d exerted today. He fumbled with the fastening of his trousers as he stalled, trying to think of anything to keep his ardor under control.

“Don’t be shy,” she teased, “I’ll turn around.”

The moment she’d turned, he expeditiously stripped down and barreled into the water. “It’s fucking f-f-freezing!” he stammered.

“Give it a minute, Jones. And you gotta get in deeper.”

Oh, how he wished to get in deeper. He internally rolled his eyes at his lewd mind. Walking in further, he noticed it did seem to warm up, in fact, the closer he got to Emma the more comfortable the water became. He dared not get too close, he was quite certain he wouldn’t be able to handle it.

“Come here,” she said impatiently. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Killian looked down at himself, he did have quite a bit of blood across his chest. He rubbed at the dried stains as he continued toward her. “Better?”

Emma pointed at her face and made a circular motion. “You’ve got a little something… well all over.”

“Ah, yes, I suppose he knocked the handsome out of me.” He’d forgotten about the pummeling he’d both given and taken earlier. Cupping water in his hand, he splashed it over his face and scrubbed.

“No one’s that powerful,” she whispered.

Killian jumped when he realized Emma was but a hair's breadth away from him. He’d felt her breath as she whispered those last words. When her hand brushed the hair away from his forehead and then cupped his cheek, he couldn’t help but lean into her palm.

As Emma wiped away the last traces of blood, Killian was lost to the depths of her bright green eyes. She didn’t look away as she worked, and he swore he could feel love simmering between them. He didn’t miss the way she glanced to his lips several times, or when her tongue lightly traced her own lower lip. That pressure deep down in his abdomen came to life, he wanted her, and not just in the carnal sense either, he wanted everything.

“You have me spellbound, Emma Swan.”

“Is that supposed to be a witch joke?”

“Not in the slightest. I am taken aback, smitten, a fan of every part of you.”

She smiled and a blush colored her pale cheeks as she looked up to him through long lashes. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

“I’ve dreamt this!” Killian exclaimed. His exuberance caused Emma to startle. “Sorry, love, I mean, this was my dream yesterday. Exactly like this.” Just as in his dream, it almost seemed like she was warning him about the kiss, or preparing him for something. Only this time, hopefully he wouldn’t be rudely awoken before getting to taste her delectable lips.

“Whaaaaa-” Emma screamed as she jumped and then unceremoniously splashed down into the water.

Confused and just a bit alarmed, Killian dove down below the surface to see what was happening. Despite the beautiful blue of the laketop, it was quite murky below and he couldn’t see much. Breaking the surface once more, he was relieved to see Emma hightailing it to the shore. He watched as she emerged, water running in rivulets from her hair and glistening as it trailed down her back. Just as her pert backside broke the surface she snapped her fingers and was fully clothed.

Killian growled as he made his way to the bank. “What happened?”

Emma snapped her fingers once more and Killian was dressed too. “A fish happened,” she shuddered. “I don’t know about you, but a slimy fish swimming across my backside doesn’t work for me.”

Killian laughed, he had to agree with her there. At least it was nothing serious this time. “So why are you snapping your fingers now, instead of…” he mimicked her wrist flicking.

“I don’t know,” Emma said, “I really don’t need to do either. It is more a physical manifestation showing I am doing something magical. A courtesy, if you will.”

“So all you need to do is think it, and it will happen?”

“Prove it,” he challenged as Emma nodded nonchalantly. He should not have been surprised that challenging her skill would only end with him being naked. “Cute,” he grumbled, quickly covering himself with his hands.

“Yes, it is.”

Killian’s eyes bugged hilariously before narrowing to mere slits. “Is that supposed to be a size joke, because I assure you, there is no truth to your statement.”

“Prove it,” she snickered.

Just as Killian lifted his hands away to let her look her fill, he found himself clothed once more.

“Hey!” Emma whined. “You’re such a killjoy, Henry.”

Henry chirped and squawked as if to say he wanted no part of this whole situation.

“Henry, my boy! Good looking out.”

“What is this, a boys only club now?”

“Oh, not at all, Swan,” Killian consoled. “Come, sit, let’s eat. I brought some things this morning.”

Sitting down along the bank, Killian passed her the canteen and set out the fruit and biscuits. They talked at great length about nothing in particular. It was more relaxed than either could remember being, and once more Killian found himself marveling at the unique sense of belonging together.

“May I ask you something,” Killian asked.

“Sure.” He noticed her hesitation, as if she was weighing the pros and cons of letting him ask her a question.

“Where are you from, how did you and Henry find each other, and how did you come to be alone?”

A nervous sounding chuckle broke from between her lips. “That’s a lot.”

Killian scooted closer to her and wrapped an arm around her. “I guess that was more than just one thing, but I’d love to know more about your beginnings, Emma.”

“You do?”

“Yes, I want to know everything.”

“Let’s get home first,” she suggested. Something about the way she said home was so endearing to Killian, as if it was his home, too. He understood her desire to have familiarity amidst if she was going to tell him her life’s story.

After packing up the basket they started the trek to the cabin. Emma reached out and grabbed his hook as if it were the most natural action in the world. He was still in awe of how easily she accepted his missing appendage.

It was already late into the evening by the time they arrived. Cleaning up and changing into sleeping clothes once more, they laid down in the darkness.

Tonight though, Killian didn’t face away from her. They lay facing each other, heads on their pillows with just the glow of the moon lighting the room softly. He stayed quiet, knowing that Emma would start when she was ready.

“Do you want the long story or the short story?”

“I want the whole story,” Killian answered, running his hand through her hair. “I want to know everything about you, love.”

A small smile sat upon her lips as she began. “I was born in Massachusetts in 1688 and I’m from a place called the Enchanted Forest.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” Killian interrupted.

“That’s because it isn’t part of this realm.”

Before he could interrupt her to find out what that meant, she placed a finger to his lips. He smiled against them and took the cue to shut up.

“When my mother was pregnant, a prophecy was told that I would become the most powerful witch of the realm. My mother’s stepmother was enraged, she’d been the ruler of the Enchanted Forest for centuries. She threatened my mother, telling her that she would kill her, my father, and me if she didn’t get rid of me.”

Killian’s heart clenched at the thought of a mother abandoning her child. He rubbed his hand up and down her arm, hoping to provide comfort.

“Of course she refused, and so my wicked step-grandmother ordered our deaths. My parents crossed over to this realm and fled to the town of Salem where they planned to live like commoners. Five years later we were living peacefully and safely, but…”

Killian pulled her closer when he sensed her distress.

“I couldn’t always control my magic. It was little things, but soon, none of the other kids wanted to be around me. They were afraid of me. My mother tried to work with me on how to control it, but I was so powerful even then, and she didn’t have the means to train me. After several of the other girls went too far in mocking me, by pretending to be possessed, they accused my mother and her best friend of being witches.” Tear tracks streamed down her nose and cheek as she remembered the anguish as strongly as if it were yesterday.

“The Salem Witch trials?” Killian asked in astonishment.

Emma nodded her head. “So many women, innocent women and a few men were wrongfully hung because of me. All because I really was afflicted. My parents had no choice but to return to the Enchanted Forest. They begged Regina, my step-grandmother for shelter. She refused, and this time she didn’t let us go. She crushed my father’s heart as a warning to my mother.”

“She killed your father?” Killian was outraged, he wanted to slay this beast who’d hurt Emma.

“No, there is a way to live without your heart in my world. If you are true love, you can share a heart. After Regina crushed his heart, my mother split her own heart in half. They live even now by sharing two halves of the same heart.

She ordered me banished, and cursed me to walk the earth alone. She also made it so my parents couldn’t leave the realm without losing all of their memories. The night before I was to be sent away, my mother pleaded to every deity to send my power animal to guide me safely back to this realm and watch over me.” She looked over to the settee and smiled fondly at Henry. “That’s how Henry and I met, we’ve been together ever since.”

Hearing his name, Henry sleepily stirred, and as though summoned, he flew over to the bed and nestled between them. Emma gently stroked a finger over his tiny head and he seemed to absolutely purr.

“Have you ever been back? To try and defeat this evil witch?”

“I can’t risk it. My parents share one heart now, if anything were to happen to one of them, they would both die.”

“But the prophecy said you would be the most powerful witch. That has to count for something.”

“The prophecy also said I’d meet my true love in the form of a…”

“Of a what?” Killian asked when she didn’t continue.

“The point is, the prophecy foretold many things and after almost three hundred years, not one of them have come true.”

“What else did the prophecy say?”

Emma pulled away from Killian’s embrace and he could detect a trace of discomfort. “What aren’t you telling me, Emma?”

Henry stirred again when he sensed the discourse. Looking to Emma, he tilted his head as if asking her a question.

“I’m not scared,” she told Henry. “But what if the prophecy was wrong?” she asked him as tears welled in her eyes. “No, no you won’t. I’ll tell him.”

Killian sat up in bed and leaned against his pillows and the wall. “You’ve nothing to fear, love. You can tell me anything. Can I tell you about my dream from this morning?” He held his arms out to her, wordlessly asking her to allow him to hold her.

Sitting up alongside Killian, Emma scooted closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder. She nodded her head, “Tell me what you dreamed.”

“I was having a conversation with Henry. An actual conversation, he was speaking.”

Emma chuckled. “What did he sound like?”

“He had the voice of a spirited boy, and he had some pretty hopeful and positive things to tell me.”

“Like what?”

“He said some heavy things, love. Are you sure you’re ready to hear them?” He could feel the tense of her body. And he knew she knew what he was going to say, but still he waited for her answer.

“Mmhmm.”

“Henry told me we are meant for each other. He said we’ve been destined to meet since you were born. And he also says he is my power animal, too. I don’t know about you, but I believe him, I think he was communicating with me while I slept. And I think that’s why you were upset with him this morning.”

“You seem pretty sure of yourself.”

“You’re something of an open book, love.”

She looked up at him seemingly daring him to ask the question that was on the tip of his tongue. “How can two people share a power animal, Emma?”

“Why don’t you ask Henry since he seems to have all the answers?”

“Because I want you to tell me.”

“The only way for two people to share the same power animal is if they are true love.” The words fell from her lips so softly that Killian almost didn’t believe his ears.

“True love,” he tried the words out. He’d surely felt a connection from the moment they’d met, and he didn’t consider it out of the realm of possibility that this woman could be his true love. “Do you believe it?”

“It doesn’t matter what I believe, Killian. I want to be loved because someone loves me for who I am, exactly how I am, not because of some stupid prophecy.” She hopped up from the bed and paced the room.

Killian felt bereft as soon as she left his arms. He needed to lay it all on the line. He knew he wasn’t wrong, his heart wasn’t wrong. “What if I told you I’ve felt a connection to you since the moment I opened my eyes and you were there.”

“I’d tell you it’s because I’ve been casting a dampening spell for your pain.”

“Not this morning when you stormed out of the cabin, and not today at the lake when Cassidy showed up. Henry was keeping watch over me then. And the connection I feel to you wasn’t broken for a single second, in fact, it only strengthened in those moments.”

Jumping out of bed he walked over to her and placed hand and hook on her arms. “Tell me you feel it too, Emma?”

“Part of the prophecy said that my true love would seek me out and would come to me in the form of a man who wasn’t whole.”

Killian held up his hook, waving it in her face. How could the prophecy possible get more accurate, he wondered, but she continued on.

“I met a man some eighty or ninety years ago, he said he had no heart, he said he wasn’t a whole man. He swore an evil witch had stolen it. Graham was so gentle and sincere. I convinced myself that he was the man from the prophecy. Despite everything that happened, I still believe we shared some form of love. It just wasn’t true love.”

“What happened?”

“He was sent to kill me, by Regina. She held his heart hostage and even had some control over his actions. In the end she killed him when he didn’t fulfill her command to end my life. He died in my arms.”

“Emma, I’m so sorry.” How could she still be the beautiful soul she was after almost three hundred years of a lonely and loveless life? He understood now how she might doubt the prophecy after semantics played a part in her heart break. Still, he didn’t see the harm in trying, he was no hired gun, and he sure wasn’t missing his heart, unless you counted the fact that Emma owned it. “Why would you deny yourself the happiness I know we could share?”

“I’ve dreamed for centuries of blue eyes and a hook, that’s the real reason I chose to give you a hook. The real reason Henry called me a liar at dinner last night. What if I am projecting my hopes, what if we try and I’m wrong again?”

“I know what I feel, Emma. I know you’re it for me, prophecy or not. And if you’ll have me, I’m in this for the long haul.”

“Killian,” she whispered, “I… I feel like I’ve known you my whole life. I feel like I’ve been waiting for you my whole life. From the moment I found you passed out on my front porch I have felt a connection to you that I’ve never felt with anyone. I can’t explain it, but I’m afraid to hope for it.”

“I knew you felt it, too,” he murmured as he wrapped his hooked arm around her waist and brought a hand to her heart.

“I do,” she admitted. “But sometimes when things are too good to be true, they aren’t true.”

“Emma, we feel the same connection, we share a power animal, I am literally missing a hand, making me technically not whole. How much closer could we be to the prophecy? What are you so afraid of?”

“The last part of the prophecy said if I find my true love, all evil would be vanquished from the Enchanted Forest.”

“Doesn’t that mean you could go home?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what it means.” Tears welled in her eyes once more.

“What’s wrong with that?” Killian had a sinking feeling in his stomach that perhaps he wouldn’t be able to go with her. He would never make her choose between himself and her parents, but still the thought of losing her rocked him and a sadness so great overwhelmed him that his own eyes filled with tears.

“No, it’s not that,” she told him. “You could come too.”

“Did I say that out loud?” Killian asked in confusion.

Killian’s eyes widened comically and Emma beamed at him as it dawned on both of them that they’d just communicated telepathically.

“Wait, if I could come too, what has you so down?”

“I am so afraid to hope, Killian. So afraid. What if we aren’t true love? That would mean I met a man I love, but evil won’t be conquered in my realm. I wouldn’t be able to go home. And even worse, what if one day my true love did arrive. What would we do then?”

“You love me?” he breathed.

Emma rolled her eyes, “Of course that’s all you picked up from that entire-”

“Aye, that is all I am hearing, because the rest is horseshit. I don’t know how we prove this true love thing, but I believe, Emma, I can feel it.” He picked her up and spun them around in a circle. “I love you, Emma Swan, with all my heart.”

“I’m going to kiss you now,” she murmured.

“Why do you keep telling me? Why don’t you just do-” His words were cut off as her supple lips collided into his, just as their two worlds had collided. A mix of soft and sweet with dangerous and arcane. Killian only took a second to catch up, opening his mouth to hers. His hand slid into her hair grasping gently at the base of her neck, and he relished the feel of her hands as one caressed his chest and the other played with his hair.

Suddenly the air around them stilled, and it wasn’t that he couldn’t breathe, but that he didn’t need breath. Time seemed to freeze. In his mind’s eye, a flash of every memory he’d ever had, some good, most bad, flooded him. In that moment, he knew that every atrocity that had befallen him, from his mother’s early demise, his father’s treacherous betrayal and abandonment, the years of slavery, the devastating loss of his brother’s life as they fought for the Confederacy, to the loss of his hand, had all happened for a reason. He’d been set on a path by destiny itself to meet this woman, his one true love.

As soon as the thought was born, time exploded back to life as a gust of wind and light burst forth from where their lips were joined. “What was that?” Killian asked as he tightened his grip on Emma.

“That’s true love,” she gasped. “Killian! That was true love’s kiss.” She assaulted him with kisses as she laughed and cried tears of joy.

He kissed her thoroughly before taking a moment to say, “I told you so.”

“Oh my gosh, you sound like Henry,” she laughed.

Killian laughed heartily before planting another kiss on his true love’s lips. “When do we leave?”

“You’ll come with us?”

“What kind of question is that? Obviously, I am going with you.”

“I just wasn’t sure if you had anything here in this realm to stay for.”

“I have you, Swan. Everyone else dear to me is deceased.”

“I know,” she whispered as she stroked his cheek. “I saw everything,” she confessed, “when we were kissing, I saw all your memories.”

He knew it wasn’t pity he saw in her eyes, but perhaps understanding, because when they’d kissed, her past, also filled with experiences no one should have to endure, had been revealed to him. “That was certainly easier than having to tell every sad detail of my past,” he joked. He knew that Emma recognized the deflection with humor charade, and he loved her a little bit more for letting him get away with it.

“You have me and Henry now. And once we get home, you’ll have more family than you’ll know what to do with.”

Killian smiled at the idea of family. He hadn’t had one of those in a very long time. Not as long as Emma, but he was a mere mortal, his lifetime wouldn’t last nearly as long as hers.

Yes it will, Henry pushed into Killian’s mind.

“How so?”

“Hmm?” Emma asked as she broke from the embrace and led Killian back into the bed.

“Sorry love, I was speaking to Henry.”

“Alright mister, I see we are going to have to set some rules eventually.” He watched her pick Henry up off the bed and place him on a pillow that seemed to be just for him, on a nearby table.

Henry huffed in annoyance before conveying his train of thought to her so she could continue the discussion with Killian.

Emma laid back down in bed next to Killian so they could face each other again as she began to explain what Henry was trying to communicate. “My mother was a bit of a rebel in her younger days, she liked to sneak into the mortal world to see how the other half lived. I think she just had a stronger need for adventure than most. My father is a mortal, just like you. She met him when they were both out wandering the woods bordering our Enchanted Forest. He says it was love at first sight. She says it was punch first, ask questions later. Anyhow, my point is, my father ages the same as my mother now. A witch’s mate, if they’re true love, will inherit the same life span.”

“So, I’m not going to age? I’m going to be this devilishly handsome for centuries?” Killian grinned salaciously and waggled his eyebrows, causing Emma to roll with laughter.

“You are so full of yourself.”

“I’ll have you know I prefer self confident. And I will still pale in comparison to your beauty,” he exalted.

“Are you trying to charm me?” Emma asked as she edged closer into Killian’s space.

“It depends, is it working?”

“Even though I know you do not need your ego stroked even a little bit,” Emma paused to lick her lips, “I find your self confidence very attractive.”

Killian inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself, for his mind was still stuck on the word stroke. He definitely had something she could stroke, and goddammit why was his mind going there right now. Here they were, in the midst of a life altering evening, and he was having obscene thoughts. “Then in that case, yes, I am definitely trying to charm you.”

“Good,” she whispered. “I think I want you just as much as you want me, and I have since you got here.”

He could feel her body heat radiating off her in waves, and good God was she trying to kill him? Yes, she may want him, but he was quite sure she didn’t want exactly what he wanted right at this moment. Clearing his throat gruffly and attempting to inconspicuously back his groin area away from hers, he asked again, “So when would you like to leave?”

Emma blinked several times, confusion evident on her face as she processed his change of direction. “Well that depends on a couple things. I can open a portal, which would be the quickest way, or we could travel by land or by sea. If we use a portal we can leave anytime. If we go by land or sea, we have to procure horses or passage on a ship. How quickly do you want to leave?”

“As soon as you want to, darling. You haven’t seen your parents in centuries, the sooner the better, right?”

“I want to leave tomorrow, and I want to open a portal but…”

“But what?” he asked. He could sense concern in her tone, perhaps she was nervous after her reaction to the last time she’d opened a portal. Or maybe she was nervous about bringing him home to her parents? “Are you scared?”

“Not scared, but there is one thing we would have to do first.”

“Your heart’s desire, that’s all I want.” Killian caressed her cheek in his palm and leaned in to seal his words with a kiss.

“You can’t travel through a portal in your condition. The minute I rescind the dampening spell, you will be in pain. We can wait for you to heal on your own, which could take weeks, or I can heal you.”

“That’s easy enough, heal me, and we shall depart at your whim.”

“Okay,” she answered, almost inaudibly.

Killian couldn’t figure out why she seemed so unsure. “What is it, Emma? Are you unsure of your ability to heal me? Because I have faith in you, I have yet to see you fail.”

Emma beamed under his praise. “No, it’s not that, it’s just, well, healing is an extremely… physical process.”

Even in the dim moonlight he could see a hint of blush upon the apple of her cheek. “Physical how, like painful?”

“Touch, I would heal you through touch. It won’t be too painful, but it might be more invasive than you want.”

“I assure you, be as invasive as you like, my body is at your disposal.” He really meant it too, even though he was also trying to make her more comfortable.

“Are you sure?” Emma asked, propping her head up on her hand. “Because a second ago I told you I want you and you completely changed the subject.”

It was Killian’s turn to blush as he chuckled lightly. “I needed a moment to settle my… well I was slightly overstimulated and I don’t wish to offend you.”

“Offend me? When a woman tells you she wants you, isn’t stimulation a good thing?”

“I didn’t realize you were talking in those certain terms, a mere misunderstanding, I promise.” He pulled her close, so close he rested his forehead to hers. “I want you in every way, Emma.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he whispered before kissing her. Threading his hand into her hair he sought a deeper kiss, licking her lower lip and nibbling at it softly.

Her lips were pliant to his request as she opened to him and allowed his tongue to stroke hers. He felt lit up, invincible as their mouths moved together. Rolling her to her back, he slipped his hooked arm under her pillow so he wouldn’t hurt her, and placed his other hand upon her hip. Killian kissed down the column of her neck, pausing when she’d emit a particularly wanton moan, making sure to pay attention to her body’s communication.

“Wait,” she panted. Her hands, which were buried in his thick hair, pulled his head up so he could see her flushed face. “Let me heal you first. If I have to concentrate on keeping you pain free, I won’t be able to fully enjoy you.”

“We can’t have that, Swan.” He acquiesced to her lead as she pushed against him, urging him to roll onto his back.

With a flick of her wrist, his shirt was gone. He gave her a cocky grin and asked if it was altogether necessary to be shirtless, to which she rolled her eyes. He wasn’t sure if that was a yes or a no, but it didn’t really matter either. “Focus on my touch,” she whispered.

When she straddled his stomach, Killian was almost positive it was not necessary, but he’d be a fool to question this woman’s reason for being astride him. Placing each of her hands to his temples, she rubbed delicately, and Killian couldn’t help but close his eyes. The feeling was absolutely serene, his mind felt clear, and the pressure behind his swollen eye dissipated. As her thumbs rolled over his cheeks, the sting of the gash on his right cheek dulled until it was no more.

“You have three broken ribs,” she stated, “and no matter how powerful my magic is, it’s going to hurt when I reset them.”

“That’s okay, I can handle it.”

“I know you can,” she said with a sweet smile. She leaned down to kiss him deeply, a little roughly even, and Killian had to wonder if this whole healing process wasn’t an aphrodisiac for her, it certainly had him worked up.

She slithered down his body, pausing when her core hovered above his fully hardened cock. Fuck, how he wished she would rub herself against him. “Emma,” he whined.

“Shhh, I’ve got you.” She fisted his hair in one hand and placed the other flat against his rib cage. When she set to work, he thought he might be split between heaven and hell. She placed her lips to his once more, then pulled at his hair and ground her hips tantalizingly against his while at the same moment she summoned the bones of his rib cage back together.

The whimper that left his mouth was a mixture between excessive titillation and sheer agony. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to come or cry, or both.

“That,” she said, with another yank of his hair, “was the art of distraction.”

His breathing was heavy as he struggled to gain some composure. A wicked grin cut his mouth as he realized Emma Swan was a bit of a minx, and she was definitely enjoying this healing process. “Come here,” he growled, pulling her down on top of him and kissing her breathless. “That was incredible.”

“I thought so,” she smirked with a buck of her hips. She sat up and grabbed his hook, “Last part.”

Killian gave a nod of his head.

“What would you like?” she asked, placing a kiss to the curve of the shiny metal.

Killian furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Uhhh, I’d like to be healed so I can make love to you.”

Emma giggled and blushed as she told him she wanted that too. “But what do you want for your… appendage? I can give you something that resembles a real hand, it wouldn’t be yours though, unless you happen to have it, or know where it is?”

Killian’s face soured at the thought of reattaching his rotting hand, wherever it may be. “That is quite macabre, and I don’t have it anyhow.”

“I could leave it severed, but healed?”

“Why can’t I have the hook?”

“You can,” she said excitedly. “I wasn’t sure if you would want it.”

“I’ve grown quite attached to it, actually. And Henry…” Speaking of Henry, Killian glanced around and realized the little hellion was nowhere to be seen. Considerate little guy, he thought. “Henry has given me a most colorful moniker to go with it.”

Emma cocked an eyebrow, as if unimpressed. “And what would that be?”

“Why, Captain Hook, of course.”

A loud laugh burst from Emma as she slapped his chest playfully “You boys are so funny.”

“I quite like the name, it’s ominous.”

“Oh yes, so ominous,” she teased. “Am I going to have to call you that in bed?”

“If the hook brings you any pleasure, you must!”

Emma covered her face with both hands and Killian knew then and there that she’d already considered the act. “You little coquette!” Killian sat up and leaned against the pillows with Emma still straddling his lap as he waited for her to regain her composure. She was absolutely adorable.

“Are you ready,” she asked, removing his hook. When he nodded, she took Killian’s forearm in her hands and smoothed her hands over the damaged flesh. Killian watched a golden glow radiate from her palms as she massaged from his elbow down to his wrist. It wasn’t going to be pretty, but it would be healthy.

She kissed the blunted end of his arm and cradled it to her cheek. “How does that feel?” she asked with a tilt of her head.

Killian’s eyes were a little misty at the tenderness she exuded. He rubbed his arm, squeezed up and down the healed area testing for any sign of distress. “Good as new,” he whispered hoarsely. He couldn’t help but pull her into a fierce hug. As they locked in an embrace, love and understanding flowed between them, and despite his missing hand, Killian couldn’t remember a time he’d felt more complete, and he could sense Emma was feeling the same thing.

She acted first as their combined emotions spilled over into need. Killian didn’t hesitate when her lips assaulted his, in fact he pounced back with as much fervor, sucking her tongue between his lips and massaging it with his own. Breaking the kiss, he rucked up her nightie and pulled it over her head, thankful that she’d let him do that the old fashioned way.

Passion filled Killian’s eyes as he looked his fill of Emma Swan. Her breasts were full and tightened at her rosy nipples. He was mesmerized as he scanned her lissome frame down to the apex of her thighs which cradled his still clothed cock. “So gorgeous,” he muttered. He ran a finger between her breasts and down her stomach to her belly button, she was so soft and warm. A shiver coursed through her and covered her skin as he continued to touch her, hand and blunted wrist familiarizing themselves with the feel of her body.

Leaning down, Killian wrapped his left arm around her and sucked a nipple into his mouth, working her gently before switching to the other one. He jumped when he felt her hand wrap around his shaft, he’d been so caught up in acquainting himself with her breasts he hadn’t even noticed she’d magically divested him of his pants. He looked up to see Emma greedily staring as she languidly stroked his cock.

“See something you like?”

“Mmmhmm,” she hummed, never looking away from her ministrations.

Killian ducked his head and surged to her mouth once more, kissing her passionately. He could feel her rubbing herself against his thighs as she continued to work him. Halting her movements, he slid his hand between her thighs and he could feel her heat before even touching her. When he slid his middle finger into her, she broke the kiss to cry out his name. It was the most glorious thing he’d ever heard.

Killian’s cock twitched in her still moving hand as his digit explored her soaking core. His mind raced as he imagined what she’d feel like once he was buried inside her. He added another finger and Emma threw her head back for just a moment before focusing back. He smirked as he realized she really did like what she saw, she liked to watch, her pupils dilated as she stared at his fingers pumping in and out of her. Picking up the pace, he marveled at the way she thrust down upon his fingers, taking what she wanted, and as her soft moans became more needy he grazed his thumb over her clit once.

“Yes,” she panted. “Do it again.”

Killian complied, making the same pass over and over. When she grabbed her breasts to tweak her nipples he almost spilled himself, his saving grace was that she’d had to release his cock to touch herself. It took her but several more pumps of his fingers before she was calling out his name like a praise. Her whole body tensed, and she squeezed his fingers so tightly his cock actually felt jealous.

Before she’d even come down, Emma got to her knees and pulled him in for a kiss. “If your fingers are that good, I can’t wait for the real thing,” she panted between still ragged breaths.

Killian groaned as she grabbed him once more, only this time she slid her coated folds up and down his shaft instead of her hand. It drove him mad as she whispered in his ear before sucking his lobe into her mouth. He quickly flipped them so that she was on her back, and he studied her face for any sign of hesitation. When all he saw was love and desire, he thrust into her in one fluid stroke.

He had no words, he couldn’t even emote how she felt around him because a choice enough description was beyond his scope of thought. He didn’t want it to end, and so he stayed buried, enjoying the pulsing of her post orgasmic walls. When she squeezed his butt and gave a small thrust of her hips, he knew she needed more. Propping himself up on his blunted arm, he looked down at her as he pulled out and then slowly filled her back up. The wet slide of heated flesh against his swollen cock was unimaginable, and he struggled to keep his eyes open. He wanted to see her face though, wanted to watch her pleasure while taking his.

Emma wrapped her legs around his back, and her hands around his neck, and he knew she wanted him close. Placing more of his weight on her, their slick bodies rubbed together as he thrust into her over and again. Killian placed his forehead to hers as he neared the edge, wanting to be connected. When her body tensed up once more, signaling her release, he let all finesse go and pumped into her erratically. As her walls began that pleasurable flutter and clamped around his cock he came harder and more blissfully than he’d thought possible.

Killian sighed out her name while holding her close. “That was…”

“I know,” she whispered.

And he knew she did, there were no words to convey, only feelings. Unconditional love, absolute trust, bliss to name a few. They luxuriated in the peaceful embrace that seemed to permeate the entire dwelling.

“Let me get a cloth to clean us,” Killian said; but before he could even move, Emma had them bathed and spooning under the covers.

“Sleep,” she murmured, “we will have a long day tomorrow.”

“Are you excited?”

“I’m so excited, Killian, and nervous,” she gushed. “I can’t wait to see my parents, my home. And I can’t wait for them to meet you.”

Killian’s heart squeezed a little when he picked up on the pride in her voice as she expressed her wish for her parents to meet him. “I cannot wait either, my love.” Tightening his arm around her waist, he pulled Emma closer into the cradle of his body, and wishes of good night, and I love yous passed silently between them as they drifted off to sleep.

乂❤乂❤乂

“Bugger off,” Killian grumbled, as an incessant knock pounded at the door. Whoever it was, was rather insistent, and it was grating on his last good nerve. He rolled over to see Emma still blissfully passed out. They had been up quite late indulging in more enjoyable activities than simply sleeping.

Answer it, Henry projected.

It’s still dark outside, mate.

Answer it! This time Henry added a persistent chirp.

Fine! Killian projected back as he stumbled out of bed and pulled his pajama pants back on. He ignored Henry’s warning to put on more clothes as he sleepily walked to the door.

“Bloody Hell, give it a rest,” he hollered as he reached the door and pulled it open. “What is so important that has you banging on my door before sunrise,” Killian asked crossly as he stared down the young couple.

“No!” the woman cried out.

Killian studied the short brunette as she clutched at a small crocheted blanket. She looked between him and the blonde man standing next to her.

“But…”

“Shhh,” the man murmured into her hair as he pulled her into his arms. “Sorry to have woken you,” he said to Killian.

Killian stood there watching the couple and his heart squeezed as he witnessed the anguish between them. He wanted to ask what was wrong, but he wasn’t sure that was proper. “Have you traveled far? Would you like to come in and rest?”

“I used the locator spell, David. How could it be wrong?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart. But we will find her.”

Dawning hit Killian the moment he heard the word spell. His heart soared a little as he realized Emma might get to see some of her family sooner than she’d even hoped.

“Killian, come back to bed,” Emma called to him, “and you better still be naked,” she added in a sultry tone. A blush broke out from his abdomen, where his pants were still hanging low, all the way up to his ears. Dammit, why hadn’t he listened to Henry when he’d told him to put on more clothes.

“Pardon me,” he grinned sheepishly, “just for a moment.”

The couple stared at him with puzzlement across their faces as he closed the door over.

“Emma!” he hissed as he double-timed it over to their bed. “Emma! Get up.”

“Why,” she whined. “Come back to bed.”

Killian jumped as she cupped his cock, doing her best to entice him back to the comfort of their bed. “Love,” he implored, “please get up, poof us dressed, and-”

“I’m sorry, but did you say, Emma?” the brunette called from the entryway.

Killian’s head whipped around to see that the couple was now standing right inside the doorway peering in their direction. He lightly smacked Emma’s hand away from his crotch before broadcasting as loudly as he could to her that they had company.

“Oh, shit,” Emma muttered as she pulled the blanket up to her neck. As Killian had requested a moment ago she poofed them dressed and then exited the bed. Who is it? she silently asked him.

Take a look for yourself, Swan. I think you may be able to tell me who it is.

Emma peered around his shoulder to take a better look. “Is this a dream?” she asked as her eyes welled up with tears.

“No, love,” he whispered with a smile.

“Mom? Dad?” Emma asked hesitantly.

“Emma!” the woman exclaimed. “It did work!”

Emma pulled Killian by his hook as she ran to her parent’s embrace. He watched as the three broke into tears, the woman talking a mile a minute and the man simply cradling Emma’s head to his shoulder.

“How did you find me? How did you even know to find me?”

“We felt it,” her mother said. “There was no doubt the moment you and your true love broke the curse. And once the curse was broken, we found you using this,” she held up the white crochet blanket, “and a simple locator spell.”

“What is that?” Emma asked, reaching out to touch the fabric.

“It was your baby blanket,” her father answered, reverently unveiling the part where her name was crocheted in a pretty purple yarn.

After introductions were made, the two couples sat down at the small dining table and Henry perched on Killian’s shoulder, offering a sense of unity, in light of Emma’s parents showing up.

Snow and David explained how Regina had been stripped of all her power and the Enchanted Forest had been immediately restored to its former glory. The people were rejoicing and had already reestablished Snow and David as their Queen and King. Their intent was to take back Castle Misthaven, and the only thing left was to bring back the long absent Princess of the Enchanted Forest.

Emma in turn told her parents how she and Killian had already planned to travel to the Enchanted Forest by portal. Within the hour everyone was ready to depart. Emma packed up the shockingly sparse amount of belongings she’d acquired over the centuries, where Killian had nothing but the clothes on his back, and his mother’s and brother’s rings.

Killian looked around and wondered how different his new home would be, would this new realm be earthly? Or would he be out of his element?

“You’ll be right at home,” Emma whispered, “and I’ll be right by your side.”

Killian leaned into her and placed a chaste kiss to her lips. I love you.

And I love you.

They both said a quiet goodbye to the cabin where their worlds had collided and their magical love had begun, before setting off to their happy new beginning.

#cssns 2019 #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs au #captain swan

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rattlung · 5 years ago

Text

okay so a lot of things

one, this took so long because i had about fourteen billion versions of this all lost to the draft fiasco that will eternally damn me. this one is one of the salvaged ones that i didn’t like at first but cleaned it up as best as i could. i wish i could say that that’s what took so long to write this, but honestly i wrote myself into so many corners, i just STRUGGLED with this one

two, you are absolutely FINE at coming up with prompts, i’m just horrific at sticking to them. reading it over for the (minor, because i’m a fraud) editing, i’m realizing that i fuckin s t r e t c h e d the meaning of it. instead of hurt/comfort it’s more “emotionally stupid dumbass gets assurance”

three, i fucking looked up how to write korean names, got advice from comments, learned about the elements and how that goes into naming, but STILL never found the sure way to write it. every source had smth different, like hyphenated, a space in between, no space at all. so, to save myself the fucking heartbreak, i’m just going to stick with the canon spelling (tae joon) and call it a day.

so anyway, tl;dr: 1) sorry, 2) oops (sorry), and 3) i wanna die (sorry again)

=====

“I’m telling you, that’s not right.”

“What do you mean it isn’t - that’s how we’ve always played it!”

“If that’s how we’ve always played it then we’ve been playing a different game!”

Elliott set down his hand, faces down, so he could groan dramatically into his palms. “It’s house rules, we’ve never not played aces high, just like how we don’t allow sets.”

Across from him, his decoy scoffed. “Yeah, but we agreed on no sets. I don’t remember agreeing on aces high.”

Crypto was sat at his desk, mostly slouched over with his elbow planted on the surface to prop his head up in his hand. The monitors flashed through numbers and windows, keeping him updated on the progress of a system cleaning. For as long as he had been there, there had never been a bug or an issue worth enough to report on, but he still ran the sweep anyway. He learned more from the speed of which they were completed, which is why he knew how long Elliott and his decoy were arguing. He’d been watching the clock.

They were nearing seven minutes now. Their card game had only been going on for eleven.

Crypto didn’t mind, if he were being completely honest. He used to listen to music or documentaries he found at random while he worked before. At some point, he must have made the fluid transition from that to Elliott’s company. He had a talent for talking when no one else would, filling silences with tales from bartending or just random thoughts - do you think Bloodhound’s room is a safety hazard? That’s a lot of candles. Not that I’m gonna be the one to tell them to tone it down, I just wanna be ready - or even going back and forth with one of his decoys.

It was calming, and gave Crypto something to listen to whenever he found himself pausing every so often rather than getting lost in thought. Sometimes, he still learned something random like he used to when he watched the documentaries. Bars, Crypto learned, were very colorful and unpredictable places.

“We agreed on aces high.”

“No, we didn’t. I would remember that, I’m programmed to remember.”

“Then you’re bugging out.”

A scandalized gasp. “You take that back!”

“Then admit that I’m right!”

“You’re not, though!”

“How is it,” Crypto started before Elliott could snap back at his hologram, “that you even have a hard time getting along with yourself?”

The real Elliott sputtered out a few starts to sentences while the other Elliott made an annoyed noise. “Don’t say that,” it requested. “That would imply that we’re the same person, and I don’t think I want to be associated with him right now.”

Elliott recovered from his sputtering to glare at the decoy. “We’re not the same person, I’m smarter than you - I made you.”

“That’s it,” it snapped, slamming its own cards down on Crypto’s bed. “I’m outta here.”

“Fine,” Elliott seethed just as it fizzled away in a pop of lights. “He’ll get over it,” he told Crypto as he reached over to collect the decoy’s hand.

Crypto said nothing, as he wasn’t worried in the first place. He wasn’t looking at his computer anymore, either, having spun around in his chair just enough to watch the rest of the argument unfold.The scan might have finished, but he was busy now, head pillowed on his arms and watching how Elliott’s brow furrowed at the decoy’s cards.

“He was cheating, he had to be,” Elliott muttered to himself. He flipped over the deck in the middle and fanned out the cards across the bed, looking over both hands and the pile. After glancing back and forth a few times, his eyes narrowed. “How is he better than me at cheating?”

“Your holograms know how to cheat.”

Elliott looked up at Crypto’s not-question, seeming really proud. “Yeah, of course. Does Holographic Trickster mean nothing to you? Hey,” he gathered all the cards up and, with deft fingers, shuffled them several times before spreading them. He held them out to Crypto with a lazy grin. “Pick one.”

With a heaving, deep sigh, Crypto picked his head up, straightened his back, and said, “No.” Then, he turned back around to face his computer.

Behind him was the sound of the cot squeaking as Elliott thumped down on it with a theatrical whine. “Aw, come on!”

“I know all your tricks,” Crypto reminded him.

“They aren’t tricks, it’s magic.”

“Magic,” Crypto repeated, doubtful.

“Yeah.”

“Which isn’t real.”

“Sure it is.” He could hear the smug grin in Elliott’s voice when he said, “What’s going on between us is magic, baby.”

Over his shoulder, Crypto gave him an exasperated look that had Elliott laughing. “At least you think you’re funny.”

“I do,” Elliott said around a yawn. “I really do. Speaking of magic, I’m going to bed.” He bounced his eyebrows up and down once or twice just to see Crypto roll his eyes and he laughed again. “Sorry - I’m being genuine, though, I’m exhausted and sleep sounds magical right now.”

The cot creaked again and Crypto felt something press up against the back of his chair in the next moment, Elliott reaching around him to place the deck of cards on his desk. Instead of pulling away once that was done, he slung an arm around Crypto’s chest and he could feel the scrape of Elliott’s beard on the side of his face.

“Wanna come with me?” He asked.

“I thought you wanted to sleep.”

“Wh - I do, jeez.” Despite how offended he sounded at the insinuation, his arm was still firm around Crypto in the strange hug he’d locked them in. “You look tired, is all, and my bed is comfier.”

“I’m fine,” Crypto told him - stiffly, to hopefully mask how tempting the offer sounded to him.

“You sure?” Crypto made a noise. “Alright.” Elliott stood and left two soft kisses behind, one on the metallic corner of Crypto’s jaw, and one higher up on his cheek where he could feel the warmth of it. There was shuffling behind him as Elliott gathered the few things he’d carried over from his own dorm. “I won’t say ‘I told you so’ if you pass out tomorrow during the game.”

“You wouldn’t be able to,” Crypto said flatly, throwing one last smirk over his shoulder. “I could outperform you in my sleep, old man.”

Elliott stopped at the door to glower at him but Crypto looked away before he could catch most of the heat from it. “You’re uninvited to my bed,” Elliott muttered. “For real, though, babe, g’night.”

“Jal ja.”

He heard the door open, but Elliott must have hung back there for a moment because it didn’t shut again. Crypto stopped typing but he didn’t turn around, just waited. Maybe Elliott had forgotten something or didn’t close the door all the way on his way out.

But then he heard Elliott speak. “I - “ He cut himself off and made a frustrated noise punctuated by the sound of shuffling feet. Then, like it was punched out of him, “I love you.”

Immediately, the door slammed shut.

The monitors lit up with a finished report and the screens of moving text kept scrolling, but Crypto stayed very still for a very long time.

----=----

The mistake, Crypto realized, was letting him and Elliott start in the first place.

At first, after what might have been an hour of staring blankly at his dimmed computer screen with nothing but the ringing silence for company, he’d thought to himself, I shouldn’t have let it get this far, but he’d come to understand that that was wrong. He would have had to have a stopping point in mind in the first place to know if he’d let anything get too far. He didn’t have one and that was on purpose, which he was ashamed of. He’d done this to himself, pointedly ignored the ever-present voice in the back of his head telling him that everyone was dangerous, whether they meant to be or not. Don’t get close to anyone, because he can’t afford to.

But it was different in the beginning, he and Elliott, and how was Crypto supposed to know it would end up like that? It had just been a rivalry, then, childish and needlessly competitive, but harmless.

Somewhere along the line, though, it stopped being that. Rivalry shifted into an unsteady friendship, which turned into unsteady flirting, which then lead to Crypto shoving Mirage’s shoulders hard into a wall after a close fight. It had interrupted the praising Mirage had been giving himself for finishing the last of the attacking squad, and Crypto remembered how he didn’t seem too miffed. Mirage had let himself be pressed against wall with one of those dumb, broad grins and pulled Crypto in after him, meeting him halfway in a heated kiss.

Even then Crypto felt the shame gnawing just under the need in his chest. It was searing and cold all at the same time and Crypto chose to ignore it then. He buried it, or did his best to, and remembered thinking, I deserve this. He focused on the man in front of him to avoid the freezing burn of the feeling, tightened his fist in the other’s hair when the fear got too loud, and took what he needed since Mirage had been so willing to give.

And it was still easy, even after that first time. For all of his showboating and the need to be center of attention, Elliott was good at casual. Now, Crypto didn’t know if that was a good thing or if it was bad. Falling into their routine had been so simple he barely noticed they’d made one. Having someone to talk to - or, rather, be talked at, was something Crypto hadn’t realized he was been missing. Then there was the intimacy, the new warm and solid presence in his bed, a body leaning against his side, the sound of surprised laughter at Crypto’s dry remarks, the intense back and forth, the rasp of a beard when Crypto drug them away so he could wipe away a cocky smirk by covering it with one of his own -

It was easy. But then Elliott had to go be an idiot and ruin everything by saying, “I love you,” and Crypto just had to make it worse by wanting to say it back.

He wondered what would have happened if Elliott had waited for a response. Would he have gotten one? Would the expectant presence in his doorway have urged him, or would have Crypto just sat there, stock still, and disappointed him? Did Elliott even want him to answer back? The way he’d said it - forced from himself - like it’d been caught in his throat for so long that he had to spit it out to get it to stop hurting. Like he just wanted to get it over with. And then Elliott fled - had he regretted it? Because he miscalculated his own emotions, or because he was scared of how Crypto would react?

He prided himself on having information, and not knowing what to think or what to do, it made Crypto feel young again in the worst way possible. He thought he buried that part of him a long time ago. The man that felt fear, anxiousness, the man that could say I love you so freely, he was supposed to be gone. And perhaps that’s where the issue lay. It was all too familiar. He had said it so often before and in a different way to a different kind of people - forever family.

It was happening all over again. He was setting himself up to lose it all once more.

He didn’t get up from his desk that night. He didn’t go and join Elliott in his bed. Tae Joon Park sat in his room, by himself, and was terrified.

----=----

Their game the following day doesn’t go horribly, but they don’t win.

Mirage showed up to the drop a little later than Crypto, who only barely made it. He’d approached the lowering platform with a fresh face and a gleaming smile, greeted Lifeline with their usual banter with no hesitation or stuttering, and called out something to Wraith to see if he could maybe poke the bear a bit before they got started.

When he sidled up next to Crypto, he bumped their shoulders together but didn’t say anything. Didn’t even look at him. It was easy to tell that Mirage was being cautious, that he himself probably didn’t know how to proceed after his minor outburst the night before. Crypto wouldn’t have been surprised if Mirage half-expected him to be missing again, just like all those months ago, after a different outburst. When Mirage had said his name, his real name, and Crypto had been terrified then, too.

He had planned on running that time, ditching Hyeon Kim and Crypto, starting all over again on another planet in another way. Then he came across Elliott before he could escape off the ship. Crypto hadn’t wanted to stop, but the sight of the other did something to his chest, constricted his ribs until they were tight and he couldn’t breathe - he was hurt. It hurt. Having to be reminded that nothing was safe, that nothing good was ever going to be left for a man like him, it was a painful thing. But it was a lesson he would have to undergo until it finally stuck. Until he learned.

And if Elliott Witt was going to be a lesson for Crypto, it was going to be only his. If what they had was going to be a concoction of their making, he was going to take it from them. So, he cornered the other and demanded a name. Elliott Witt was going to stay a lesson; he would remain the person that thawed Crypto enough to find a way close to the center of him. Elliott Witt would be warm, companionable, easy, and unattainable. Fake. The betrayal would have a different title, some other name, and live as the truthful counterpart to something sweet.

That was what made him weak. He couldn’t cut clean, wanted to keep a part of it. When the other talked, Crypto listened. When he explained himself, Crypto believed him. When he touched him, Crypto let him. The man made Crypto weak.

Tae Joon Park was weak, and he lost everything.

“Hey.”

Crypto tore his eyes away from the spot on the floor he’d been staring at since he’d arrived. The eliminated teams had all gathered at the small seating area in the dropship to watch the rest of the finishing match together. Two squads were left and from the jeering and gasps, Crypto imagined it was an interesting finish. He opted to linger on the outskirts, leaning against the partition to his room while he waited for his drone to finish its repairs on its dock.

He hadn’t kept track of where Elliott had gone off to, but judging by the slight dampness to his hair it was clear now he’d left for the showers. Maybe to cool off, but more likely to think, since he took the place next to Crypto and took a breath.

“Hey,” Crypto said back when Elliott held it for a while.

They weren’t looking at each other.

“Hey,” Elliott said again. “Can we - we should probably... y’know, talk.” The idea seemed to illicit dread in him despite the fact that he was the one who suggested it.

Maybe he should have left. Crypto should have gone through with the attempt the first time, and if not try again last night. Pulled out of the Apex Games and found another way to get inside. Something in him told him that would never had worked, though. It was that weakness, it told him that he could run from everything else, anyone else, but not Elliott. There was an element to him, damning and completely in control without a conscious effort. Crypto never stood a chance.

Like a grim veil, the realization settled over Crypto heavily. He’d never be finished with Elliott unless Elliott was finished with him.

“Can it wait?” Crypto asked.

Elliott’s careful, neutral facade crumbled for a split second before it smoothed out in understanding. He nodded, looked over the room even though no one was actively interested in them or looking their way. “Oh, yeah. You could meet me at my room tonight - or yours, whatever’s good with me.”

Crypto shook his head. “Not here, it isn’t safe.” To that, Elliott’s brow furrowed worriedly. “I have to,” he hesitated, then cocked his head to the side a little as he tried out, “show you something.”

----=----

It wasn’t often Crypto went into the city. He had everything he needed up in the dropship’s dorms and he believed the less he frequented the little flat he rented, the less likely they were to track him down.

Elliott walked beside him, dressed down in an effort to lower the chances of getting recognized. Crypto didn’t tell him he didn’t have to worry about it; people that lived in this area rarely made eye contact, let alone get a good long look at someone. Besides, it would sound hypocritical coming from him, shadowed and hidden underneath a hood.

The apartment’s entrance was off to the side in an alley, as the front was dedicated to the little chain convenience store it sat above. The stairs creaked underneath them. The third floor apartment must have been hosting a party; music thumped just over the murmuring of too many voices. Vehicles wailed on the street below. But once the door shut behind them, all outside noises muffled into pure quiet.

Crypto ventured inside, deciding to not acknowledge how Elliott obviously looked around at the sparsity of the living space. Over the years, Crypto had learned to pack lightly. What he had he usually collected as he moved around, then left it all behind once he had to. His system was something he could take with him, stored on his drone or his cube. It was just easier to buy new as he had to, implement software, then wipe it clean or leave it damaged and unsalvageable.

The computer he had set up there was mostly for security. He’d gotten access to the convenience store’s security system within ten minutes of moving in. The cameras’ feed was on constant display and that was just about it. Everything he needed for work was up on the ship with about a thousand different firewalls and remote access no matter where he was as long as he had his drone.

Besides that all collected in the far corner, there wasn’t much else. The windows that faced the street were blacked out, nothing else was on the walls. A tiny futon was pushed off to one side if he ever found himself sleeping there. Even the trunk beside that was mostly for show. Crypto had gotten it just in case the landlord stopped by - the last thing he needed was Mrs. Graves catching sight of a pistol lying around and have her start asking questions. Anything else inside the trunk was there for easier collecting if he ever had to flee.

Crypto stood over the trunk, staring down at the closed lid as if he could see through it. Behind him he could hear Elliott still shuffling where he hung back in the tiny entryway. His nervousness was palpable and had Crypto’s own shoulders drawing up just from the feeling.

Finally, he met Elliott’s eyes. “You know my name.”

“Which one?” He asked through a mirthless laugh.

“The first one. My real one.”

“Yeah. You told me not to say it, though.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Elliott’s gaze cut away in confusion only to flicker back in the next second. “Because you - you told me not to? I don’t - “

“Why isn’t it safe for it to be said?” Elliott shrugged helplessly, like it was too loaded of a question for him with too many possible answers. Maybe it was, and maybe this wasn’t fair, but it needed to be done. So, Crypto pressed, “You found the article, what did it say?”

“Not much, it just said you were, like, wanted. For something.”

Elliott was usually a better liar than that. Crypto shook his head but ultimately let it go. He knelt down and Elliott watched as he removed the lock off the trunk, unclasped the latches, and lifted the lid. He wandered over slowly, curious to the contents, but stopped short when he remembered himself. Crypto stood straight with something in his hand and closed the rest of the distance between them, holding the object out for Elliott to see.

He took the frame in his hands gingerly, flipping it over to look down at the picture inside. Recognition flooded Elliott’s features. “Your sister.”

Crypto nodded. “Mila.”

A woman sat in the middle of the picture, older and graced with those kind motherly features. To the right of her, a younger girl with fire red hair spilling out from beneath a beanie and a coy grin. And then a man who had all of Crypto’s sharp edges, just smoothed out by his youth and warmth. For a moment, Crypto tried to imagine what he’d be thinking if he were Elliott, looking at the photo for the first time. Wondered what Elliott saw. What he felt.

“We used to work together,” Crypto said after the silence stretched too long.

“She was like you?” Elliott asked.

Crypto nodded. “One night, we found something we weren’t supposed to. Something dangerous.”

“Like what?”

Crypto barely held himself back from the immediate response of I can’t tell you that. He had to think about it; this was important. He needed to give enough to get Elliott to understand, but too much was out of the question. Knowledge was power and Crypto’s secrets were a lot to handle. The whole point of this was to protect Elliott.

“Something that controlled a lot of people’s lives. If it got out, it was going to ruin everything.”

“Vague,” Elliott couldn’t help saying, but he didn’t urge for more. He handed the frame back and Crypto took it from him. “So, what happened? You find the people who made it and tried to turn ‘em in?”

Crypto almost laughed. He didn’t, but it still sat in his mouth bitterly. He couldn’t even imagine how well that would have gone over for him. “No, that would’ve been stupid. I was going to leave it alone, cover up our tracks and hope they didn’t realize we’d uncovered it. The people who developed this... information, they have a lot of resources.” He paused and stared down at the back of the picture frame, running a thumb over the matte black. Stiffly, he added. “I was afraid of them.”

From the corner of his eye Crypto could see Elliott give a full-bodied twitch, like he wanted to move forward and reach out. “Babe - “

“Mila wanted to do the opposite of both,” he said, interrupting the other. He had to get it out; if Elliott stopped him, he wouldn’t understand. Crypto’s breathing was slow, his voice even, emotions drawn close and stored away somewhere deep where they wouldn’t affect him. Still, just in case, he held the frame with the picture facing down. “She wanted us to use it for ourselves. If it worked out even just once, everything would be different, but the risk wasn’t worth it. I tried to tell her and I thought she understood, but - “ He turned suddenly, moving back over to the trunk on the floor. “Mila wanted our lives to change,” Crypto said, kneeling down once more to return the frame.

The lid closed with a heavy thud and he flipped the latches closed, shutting it away along with everything else. It’s as he’s staring down at it, achingly aware of Elliott’s presence beside him, in an empty apartment that’s leased to a name that isn’t his, that Crypto fully realized his place in everything. That in some sick, morbid way, Mila actually got what she wanted. Things were never going to be the same.

“It only took them a night,” he stated flatly. “I woke up to sirens, and she was gone. And I was a wanted man.”

“They framed you for it,” Elliott said.

“They framed me for everything.”

Elliott was quiet for a long time. His expression shifted around, like he wanted to ask a question, obviously putting together and processing the new information. “I guess,” he began slowly, “I can see where this could make sense. And I’m trying to find an ell-lello - elque - y’know, like, a polite way of asking, uh, why you’re telling me this? Not that I don’t appreciate it, because that was a lot.”

“Because I owe it to you,” Crypto replied. “You deserve an explanation.”

“Okay. For what?”

“You need to stay away from me.”

It seemed like Elliott didn’t understand him at first, probably due to the casual and blunt delivery of the statement. First he blinked, narrowing his eyes, then settled on a brittle laugh when Crypto continued to not follow up with anything.

“You can’t - you can’t be serious.” Elliott scoffed at the stretching silence and shook his head. “Okay, okay, no, I don’t get it. How does that equal us having to break up?”

He faced away from the other so Elliott couldn’t see the minor, subtle flinch. They’d never talked about what they were to each other. Besides insufferable pet names and horribly creative nicknames, Elliott hadn’t called him much of anything. Not his partner, not his boyfriend. Even in recent interviews, he’s commented on how he doesn’t feel comfortable settling down or sticking to one person. The phrase “break up” contradicted that, though, didn’t it? Implied something a lot more? Obviously they kept themselves secret, but he still got the feeling that maybe the progression of... them caught Elliott off guard as well.

“My mother lost her kids. My sister lost her life. I lost everything. You’ve lost too much already. I won’t be the reason you lose more.”

“That’s stupid.”

Crypto whipped around to eye the other incredulously.

“Sorry,” Elliott amended immediately. “Not stupid - well, no, it is stupid. If that’s your whole reason, then I think it’s stupid,” he said firmly. “That stuff wasn’t your fault, you know that, right?”

He didn’t answer. He knew how to, but it wasn’t what Elliott would be looking for. In each and every case there had been a pattern, a common factor, and it’d been Crypto.

“You’re smart, and you can do just about anything, but you can’t control people,” Elliott went on, catching on to the other’s disbelief. “If your sister was anything like you, nothing was going to stop her from doing what she thought she needed to do. What happened after that isn’t her fault, and it sure as hell isn’t yours. It’s theirs, no one else’s.” His shoulders dropped a little as he let out a breath, his helpless frustration melting away until only the helplessness was left. “You’re not some harbinger of doom, you’re just - you’re just a guy that bad shit happened to. And I know - I know it’s probably really hard to believe that good stuff can still happen, because it doesn’t for a really long time. And when it finally does, you kinda just sit around and wait for the other shoe to drop. I-I get that, but I don’t think being afraid is a good enough reason to just give up on this.”

“It has to be,” Crypto said, voice strained despite his efforts. “It has to be good enough.”

“It isn’t,” Elliott told him. “I love you.”

Crypto physically pulled away, putting more distance between them as if it would help. This wasn’t going as well as he’d hoped. He thought the threat of inevitable death would have been enough, but apparently he should have taken Elliott’s stubbornness into account, his recklessness. He’d never had to before; Elliott had always been a people pleaser. Sure, he’d get passive aggressive when things didn’t go his way but he never outwardly spoke out. Maybe it was the fear of being wrong, or just the security of being able to safely say “I told you so” should something fail.

Elliott didn’t seem to have that fear now.

“Don’t make that face,” he said to Crypto, refusing to give up any ground and matching the other for every step he took. “When you tell someone you love them and they make that face, it means something bad.”

“You’re such an idiot,” Crypto said, trying to fill the cracks in the words with a scathing, bitter tone. It didn’t work.

“I’m not.” Elliott reached out to grab his wrist, moving Crypto’s sleeve out of the way so he could press his thumb right over the pulse thumping under warm skin. “I’m not, and you don’t have to say it back, but if you - if you don’t - if this isn’t right, if this is something you don’t want, then say so.”

All Crypto could manage was one more, “You’re such an idiot.”

He’s tugged forward gently and he allowed himself to be enveloped in a tight embrace, one that Elliott buried himself in. Crypto was slower, but he eventually melted into it on his own, still a little stiff and unused to the gesture. He felt the fabric of his hoodie stretch across his back as Elliott gathered it into his fists in order to pull Crypto closer into him.

This wasn’t fair. In a way, Crypto felt like he failed. Like he hadn’t learned anything after all, doomed to repeat it until he was the one who ended up dead. And what a monster he was, to take people down with him - innocent people who were just kind enough to help him, to care about him.

But in the same breath the thought came, Tae Joon leaned into the hug. He pressed his nose into the crook of Elliott’s neck and took what was being given to him. He deserved this.

“Y’know,” Elliott began wetly, muffled as he refused to pull away even the slightest bit. “When someone invites me to their apartment, it usually goes in a different direction.”

Between the sleepless night and the emotionally draining evening, Crypto wasn’t too surprised he huffed a reluctant laugh into the other’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry I kinda created this shit show for us,” Elliott said. He moved his head so he could be heard more clearly, speaking lowly just below Crypto’s ear. “I’m not really the romantic type, despite popular belief. Like, I flirt, but I never know what to do when that actually pans out for me. So I figured, if I’m feeling it, just say it - one life to live, so live it, and all that. But I didn’t really think about the delivery, or how you’d react to it. So I bailed.”

“It’s fine,” he replied, meaning it.

“Is it?”

Crypto turned his face toward Elliott’s and kissed him. Slow and purposefully, making sure he could taste the truth. “I love you,” Crypto said, meaning that, too.

Elliott’s smile was infectious. Resting his forehead against the other’s, Crypto just took it in. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes, the scrunch of his nose, the tip of his tongue caught between teeth, the warmth in his face. Crypto wanted to be terrified, wanted to be able to make the better - albeit harder - decision. But that was impossible, as long as there was Elliott Witt and the smile he saved for Tae Joon.

“We’re going to get each other killed,” he stated, mostly serious.

Elliott snorted. “Yeah, whatever. I love you.”

“Saranghae,” he said back, and yeah. Whatever.

If Elliott Witt was going to be his weakness, it was best to keep him close, where no one could use it against him.

=====

like i said, didn’t follow the prompt at all really. it’s kinda blink and you’ll miss it hurt/comfort. also i like to believe that elliott is emotionally smart as long as it’s not about him.

oddly enough, i had the scene from fiddler on the roof stuck in my head while writing this where one of the daughter’s love interests were asking to marry them and the dad said smth like “yeah no way, you’re just a poor tailor” and the kid argued “even a poor tailor is entitled to some happiness” and yeah. that line always stuck with me.

anyway, if you want a do over i won’t mind i swear. even pretend to be a different anon and ask for “more” hurt comfort, i’ll know what you mean lmao

#cryptage #apex legends #mirage #elliott witt #crypto #tae joon park #kon's a writer #nook nook fucking hates this

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probably-writing-x · 6 years ago

Text

Had enough.

Request by anon: Love when you ask for requests ❤ could you please write something about the reader and haz hating each other and some day Tom has enough of it and locks them in a room until they sort things out? Don't know if this makes sense

~~~

"Well I didn't ask you to bring me the world, did I?" The volume of your voice wasn't falling now, "I asked you to get one small thing to help me out, is that so difficult?"

"Is it so difficult for you to actually do what you're meant to instead of expecting me to pick up your slack?" Harrison retorts, directing his hands at you to show his emphasis despite the fact he was still slumped on the couch.

"I've had things going on, Harrison," You grumble, running a hand through your hair.

"Oh yeah, things going on," He rolls his eyes, putting quotation marks around those last three words to echo his sarcasm.

"Fuck you Harrison," You snap, picking up your laptop and walking away to the kitchen.

To avoid being too close to the enemy, you take a seat on one of the stools at the kitchen counter. Your brows were furrowed over the laptop in front of you and the deadlines you had to meet - all building up to overwhelm. Every so often, your eyes would steal a deathly glance to Harrison before quickly averting, recognising how much he could make your blood boil in that split second. You didn't notice him do the same.

And then you're typing away, trying to mind dump everything that needed doing to get it clearer in your head, your stress fueling the pace of your typing.

"Oh my god, do you want to type any louder?" Harrison yells, evidently increasing his volume as though he was fighting to be heard over your actions.

"Put your headphones in and stop complaining then!" You respond, glaring at him with nothing but irritation.

"You're not even supposed to be here yo-"

Before he can continue, Harrison is interrupted by the entrance of someone into the hotel room - Tom. The boy who you were both assistants for.

"Guys don't tell me I've walked into another fight," He sighs, shoulders slumping with a known defeat.

"Well she said-"

"Well he said-"

"Nope!" Tom raises his voice over both of you, "I'm not hearing this another time round. I don't care what either of you said, did or heard,"

He sounded like a parent when he got like this - ironic considering you were meant to be the ones assisting him.

"But, please, just both shut up," He sighs, taking a deep breath to relax his parental frustration, "I don't want to hear any more of it,"

Harrison turns back round on the sofa and you watch him slump further down, phone in hand as he scrolls through something that definitely shouldn't have priority over helping you. The two of you had worked together as Tom's assistants for over six months now and Tom was beginning to regret his decisions. He loved both of you and would forever be grateful for how much you helped him but, boy, you two could get on his last nerve when you got like this. It happened a lot. Harrison always seemed to be one step ahead of you when it came to work and his arrogance always resulted in arguments and bickering just like this. You couldn't really remember ever not arguing. In fact, you were fairly certain there never would be a time where you wouldn't argue.

"Tom do you want a drink?" Harrison asks his friend, going to get up from the couch.

"I'll have a coffee please, mate," Tom smiles, flicking through the TV channels to find something that would catch his interest.

From where you were sat in the kitchen, you saw Harrison nearing, moving to get two mugs from the counter before turning to where you were sat, in the way of the sink.

"Sink," His voice cuts through your work bubble as he stands behind you with the empty kettle.

"That's not how you ask someone to move," You mutter, eyes not leaving your screen as you drafted an email to send to a company that had recently contacted Tom.

"Fine," He clenches his jaw, "Move,"

"Harrison," Tom says with warning to his voice, not even bothering to look up this time - knowing it was just like any other time.

"Why do you have to be such a fucking dick?" You fully snap this time, turning in your chair to face him head on, "I've done nothing wrong and you act like I'm always this fucking burden an-"

"Guys!" Tom stands up, "You can't keep acting like this, it's draining for me so I know you're fed up too,"

You and Harrison glance to the ground. You don't speak for the rest of your time there.

~~~

The next day you're summoned with a text from Tom to help with making up a bed so you make your way over to his in the early morning to help as much as you can.

"Hello darling," Tom smiles when you walk in, a way he'd always platonically greeted you, "Know anything about how to follow instructions?"

"Approximately nothing," You laugh, taking off your jacket and shoes and leaving them at the door.

You follow Tom through the corridor until you reach the spare room.

"Why didn't you ask Harrison for he-" You stop when you see the boy in question already stood in the room, "What's he doing here?"

"What's she doing here?"

"Right," Tom claps his hands, "You two are staying here until you learn to be in the same room and not constantly argue. I want you to give me your phones and I expect that bed to be made perfectly by the time I come back,"

You exchange a look with Harrison before setting your phone into Tom's waiting hand, watching as your enemy does the same.

"I'll see you on the other side," Tom wiggles his brows, stepping out of the room. When you hear the lock turn from the outside, you know he's serious.

Okay. You could do this. Make the bed as quickly as possible and then get your ass out of here.

But Harrison sits down onto the carpeted floor and you can already tell he doesn't care to get out quickly.

~~~

You'd been working on fixing one leg to the bed frame for what felt like forever now. Every time you thought you were getting close, it fell and you had to begin again. Harrison had helped for approximately zero seconds.

"You're not doing it right," He finally pipes up, picking at a thread on the mat below him.

You drop the tools in your hands, "Oh, sorry, I forgot you were here. That's what happens when you sit there and do fuck all," The sarcasm seethes in your tone.

He pushes himself up and walks over to you, taking the tools from the ground.

"Hold that," He mutters, aimlessly gesturing to the bedframe.

You put your hand where you assume he'd just said and watch his eye roll response.

"Hold it here," He repeats, his hand holding yours to lift it to where he needs it.

You sit silently as he screws the leg into place and it doesn't fall to the ground as it had done for you.

"Just needs two people," He says bluntly, setting the tools back down and residing to the other side of the room where he had previously been.

You go to continue with the task at hand but stop yourself, rolling onto the balls of your feet, "Why do you hate me so much?" You sigh, avoiding eye contact because you didn't want to see his response - maybe not even hear it.

"I don't hate you," He states but the lack of warmth in his tone tells you otherwise.

"Oh come on," You roll your eyes, turning to face him.

He is sat with his back against the wall knees bent up with his hands clasped in front of him, "I don't hate you. And I could ask you the same thing, anyway,"

"I don't hate you, you just infuriate me,"

Harrison lets out a little laugh, "Infuriate, huh?"

You sigh and stand up, sitting against the opposite wall so you can face him, "You know what I mean. You treat me like I'm completely incompetent,"

"And I don't think you're incompetent," He corrects, "I think you're better at this job than I am,"

You're the one that laughs this time, "Yeah, right,"

There's a silence that settles over the room and you find yourself staring intently at the carpet like it would magic you out of here.

And then you finally speak, "It's my parents. They're the 'stuff that's been going on',"

You see him glance up and he frowns at your admittance, "Your parents?"

"Yeah, they've been arguing a lot recently and my Mum spent the night at mine last night. I don't think they're going to stay together,"

You see him wince slightly, "I'm so sorry,"

You shake your head, "Come on, it's not your fault,"

"No I'm serious. I shouldn't have been so harsh to you," He sticks his leg out and nudges you with his foot, "I'm sorry,"

"To be honest, it's probably for the best if they split up. After speaking to my Mum, I don't know how much she ever really loved him," You take his silence as means to continue, "She asked me what I want in the person I love,"

Harrison looks really interested now, looking at you with piercing eyes, "What did you tell her?"

"I told her I want somebody that makes my heart skip a beat or race a little bit faster. Somebody that can get on my last nerve but that I know will always, always be there," You stop yourself and smirk at the ground, "Someone who's-"

"Like your other half," Harrison finishes for you, "I know,"

You look up and cock a brow, "I told you that the first day we met,"

He shuffles over to you, "And you told me your favourite colour is emerald green and your favourite film is 'Footloose'. You told me you hate arrogance and that you talk way too much when you're nervous," He recites it all, "But I think I already knew that last bit,"

You're thankful that there's not much light in this room - it hides your blush well.

"Hey," His hand reaches out to touch your arm, "I'm sorry about your parents,"

You shake your head, moving to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear but Harrison does it for you.

"Now, how about we make up this bed and get out of here?" He suggests, nudging at you to force a smile onto your lips.

"There's no rush,"

~~~

Tags: @imarypayne @sunshine112 @bringmethehorizonandpizza @supernatural-girl97 @vibhati123 @butithasntkilledyouyet @faefictions @carisi-sonny @trap-house-homiecide @shamelessbookaddict @tommydaspidey @oneblckcoffee @darlingtholland

#harrison #harrison osterfield #harrison imagine #harrison blurb #harrison drabble #harrison one shot #harrison request #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield blurb #harrison osterfield drabble #harrison osterfield one shot #harrison osterfield request #harrison x reader #harrison x you #harrison x y/n #harrison osterfield x you #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield x y/n

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nightowlfandom · 6 years ago

Text

Requested: Jungkook-Office Rivals.

HIYA! My request list is RIGHT HERE! (ALSO DO YOU LOVE SLASHER FAN FICS?! MY GOOD FRIEND MADE A TUMBLR FOR IT AND TELL HER THAT ASH FROM NIGHTOWLFANDOM SENT YOU! @slasher-fanatic LOVE YOU BOO!)

3-"Damnit, do you have any idea how amazing you are? Stop being so damn insecure!"

29-"Where the hell did you learn that?!"

34-"Don't pretend that wasn't on purpose, come here."

45-Go to sleep, I promise I'll wake you up"

54- .How stupid so you think I am?!"

(I HAD TO TYPE THIS STUPID POST FIVE TIMES OVER. I'm sorry if this is the complete opposite of what you wanted but I couldn't write this a sixth time without going into panic. Pleaseee forgive me for that.)

...

"Did you really think a trick like that would work?!" you stormed onto Jungkook's office, seething with rage. "You stole my client!"

"I wouldn't say stole, Y/N. More like convinced him that I was the better candidate. As I always am." he smirked. Jeon Jungkook was the type of man that thought just because the name CEO was attached to his title, that he could walk over who he pleased and it really made you mad. You were just as important as he was.

"Did you bribe him or something?" you crossed your arms. "You seem like the type!"

"That would be your department Ms. L/N (last name). Lucky for me I don't need high heels and a low cut blouse to be convincing." he shrugged. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a deal to settle." he sad down and began typing at his phone. "Good day Ms. L/N."

You whipped around, shutting his door behind you. The nerve of him! He stole your client and then commented on your attire?!

"Hey, how'd it go?" you were joined by Rose. (Okay if it wasn't obvious from my last post, I love Blackpink) "Did he admit it?"

"Yes! He stole my client because he thought he was 'the better candidate' " you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. "Who does he think he is?!" you snapped. "I'm just as important as he is."

"Of course you are. You know how Mr. Jeon is." she shook her head. "What can you do other than- don't even think about murder." she cut you off just as you opened your mouth.

"I gotta go, I have a report to type." you walked ahead of your friend who shook her head.

"I know that face." Taehyung, another worker had appeared. "You have a plan don't you?"

Rose smirked, nodding her head. "Yes, but I'm gonna need your friends' help. Can you do that?"

"Anything to get those two together." Taehyung laughed. "What do I need to do?"

...

"What do you mean the reports need to be typed again!?!" you and Jungkook yelled at a eerily calm Yoongi. Six reports within the week, gone like that!

"They just disappeared out of nowhere." he shrugged. He looked like he was trying to hide something. What about this was so amusing!? "Taehyung said he couldn't find them, Rose said the same thing. Even Changmin."

" I spent days on those reports, where the hell could they have gone?!" you began pacing.

"Forget it, we'll have to type them again." he waved your rant off.

"That'll take all night." you sighed. "The amount of detail put into them, even if I start now I won't be done until, I don't even know. 4:00 AM."

"I never said you'd be on your own Ms. L/N." Jungkook made you stare at him in confusion. He wasn't really going to try and help you was he?

"What?" you asked stupidly.

"If I help you, then you won't be stuck typing until four." he looked at you like you had a sign that said ' I'm a Dumbass' around your neck. "How stupid do you think I am to the point where I can't type a simple staus report?"

"Don't ever recall insulting your intelligence but okay." you sighed.

....

Damn Jungkook and damn his nice house. Damn the fact that you agreed to come over instead of staying behind by yourself. You seethed as your furiously typed on your laptop you tried to wrap your mind around your current situation as you glanced over at your notes.

Jungkook was in his stupidly nice kitchen. Don't get it wrong, you had a very nice place too, you just hated the fact that today of all days was when your car was in the shop, meaning Jungkook had to drive you to his place so you could both work.

"Here you are." a glass was set down in front of you. You didn't look at it right away but you mumbled a quick "thanks".

"Listen, I know you're less than thrilled about working with me, but you could we try to be cordial. Ot at least a bit chill?"

"I am chill." you clenched your teeth as you typed. You noticed Jungkook staring at your notes, trying to type what he saw on his own laptop.

"Can I ask you a question?" Jungkook asked as he looked up from his computer.

"Sure."you were too focused to make a snide comment like along the lines of 'I don't know, can you?'

"Why do you hate me so much?" he asked. You stopped everything you were doing and turned to face him. He did not jus-. Did he just ask why you hated him?

"You don't remember the day we met? You spilled coffee on me, then mistaked me for a delivery girl. Then when your ex-assistant told you that I was your second in command you laughed, looked me up and down then said AND I QUOTE ,'Her? No way in hell. She probably can't even use a stapler correctly.' " you snapped, shutting your laptop for dramatic effect (good thing your laptop autosaves after long pauses). "You basically embarassed me at the staff introductory meeting telling everyone not to be surpised if I stand at the copy machine for too long because all the colorful buttons would confuse me." you stood up. You were now ranting. "The very next day when I talked to a client from Hungary, you told him that I wasn't anyone important! Thus embarrassing me again!"

"Y/N!" Jungkook slowly stood up.

"Don't Y/N me, because I'm not done! You'd ridicule my work every chance you got, how dare you call me reports 'simple'! Insinuating that I use my body to convince clients. My shirts are NOT low cut for the record!"

"Y/N." Jungkook sighed. You began pointing a finger at his chest.

"What?!" you crossed your arms. "There's loads more I have to say about what you've said to me."

"Well, don't. Because they aren't true. I didn't mean any of it." he sighed.

"What?!" you raised a brow. "Hold on, did you just say that-"

"I didn't mean any of it." he shook his head. "Everyone instantly liked you and I saw your resume and I felt challenged."

"Challenged, with the way you treat me, you might as well win every battle. Did you really expect me to think that was really going through your mind was 'Damnit do you have any idea how amazing you are, stop being so insecure.' " you faked (and failed) a deep voice. "Since day one you've been treating me like I'm some kind of dumb broad! I tried being nice to you and you blatantly disregard my work ethic or my skill in general. So don't you sit there and ask me wh- woah!"

You suddenly tripped over your own shoe, crashing into Jungkook's broad chest. Just like that you two were sent crashing to the floor. Good thing there was a nice carpet. You landed on Jungkook who landed on his back, causing the both of you to groan in pain.

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry." you tried to scramble up, only to lose balance and land in a straddling position on Jungkook.

"Geez, could you be any more clumsy." he sighed. Propping himself up on his elbows, you finally got a good look of his face. Without his hair slicked and styled like the guys in those dramas you and your mom loved to make fun of. His face was actually relaxed.

Jungkook studied your face, your hair was a little bit of a mess, without that seemingly angry look you wore around him, he could see why everyone you met said you seemed friendly. You rushed to your feet, fixing your clothes.

You sat back down, opened your laptop and began working again, obviously bent of just finishing and going home to enjoy what little sleep you'd get until the next day.

"Y/N." Jungkook asked. Just as you turned your head, Jungkook wasted no time in kissing you. You nearly lost balance so to stay afloat you clung to his arm.

"Don't pretend that wasn't on purpose." Jungkook said in a low voice. "Come here." his words confused you to no end. In all actuality you could blame this incident on faulty high heels you were getting ready take off to throw at him. Unless he was talking about you clinging to his arm, then that was all you. In an instant you were pulled into Jungkook's lap, your hands making an eyen bigger mess of his hair. His hands traveled up your skirt allowing gusts of cold air to brush up against your skin.

Whatever was building up inside you needed to get out, so to relieve the tension coiling up inside you, you slowly moved your clothed core against, Jungkook's thigh, just to relieve yourself, even a little. Your legs shook as he guided you against his leg.

Jungkook held the back of your head, his hands tangled in strands of your hair. You weren't sure how to make out the feelings that coursed through your brain. Yes you hated Jungkook, but did you? Or were you just working off of what he showed you of himself and not what your other coworkers said about him apparently bragging that you were the best. You couldn't really hear yourself think over the harsh breathing leaving your body as your tongues crashed and prodded one another.

Whether you magically landed on the bed out of nowhere or whether Jungkook put your there wasn't important what was important was that he needed you. Since that day you walked in he couldn't fathom the threat of someone who worked harder than him. And beautiful too?! Might as well make him your assistant and call you the CEO. Not to mention him just plain out being a jerk for no reason, he kept it up because you'd think he was a dirty liar if he actually tried to apologize and makeup for his actions.

Jungkook furiously unbuttoned his shirt. Thoughts of you with your legs wrapped around his torso that have been haunting him since you told him off your third month at the company were too strong. They blinded his work ethic. Yes, reports needed to be done, but feeling you against him was twice as important. No, way more important.

He'd have time to enjoy your body, kiss every part of you later, now he needed you.

You had no time to worry about reports. Damn your sexual frustration and your messy hair. Your clothes discarded who knew where, you were too ready for him to care. (I hate myself but I'm not changing the scentence.)

Even thought he couldn't wait, he still wanted to care for you, he gently pinned your arms above your head as he slowly lowered himself into you. The sound of water sounded strange in your ears as the noises got faster and louder, gradually of course. Almost gracefully, your name escaped his lips, followed by a grunt of appreciation.

"Fuck!" Jungkook grunted. "Fuck I'm gonna-" he groaned. His thrusts grew slower and less calculated. His jaw went slack as more unintelligible sounds spilled from his mouth.

You nearly screamed his name but was muffled by Jungkook's mouth colliding with yours. An effective, yet seemingly messy way of shutting you up. You shook furiously under him, tightening around his length. Screams echoed through the room, yours and his.

You yawned tiredly collapsing onto the plush surface, your eyes grew very heavy as Jungkook laid next to you.

"I'm sorry. If I wasn't such an asshole to you when we first met." he sighed. "We would have gotten to this place a lot quicker." he laughed dryly.

"That's not funny." you whined, burying your head into the pillow next to your head. "Watch the hair next time, you probably made a tangle I won't be able to get out." you sighed, trying to fix your hair.

"Go to sleep, I promise I'll wake you up. We can ride to work tomorrow." Jungkook chuckled traced soothing lines on your hip, making you smile. "After we have breakfast together."

"Okay." you yawned, drafting off. "I like (insert favorite breakfast food.)" you hinted. You suddenly realized something "Jungkook?"

"Yes beautiful?"

" I always send copies or reports to everyone else in the office, including your personal email. There would be no way those reports were lost unless someone moved them to a different folder...."

"Wait a minute." Jungkook mumbled. "You don't think anyone at the office had anything to do with this, do you?"

"Too sleepy to care, but most definitely." you yawned. "We'll deal with it later." you yawned. "Sleeeepp" you whined, poking Jungkook's nose. You didn't have time to hear him chuckle at your mannerisms as you drifted off.

#bts smut #hoseok smut #jimin smut #jungkook smut #kpop imagines #namjoon smut #seokjin smut #taehyung smut #yoongi smut #bts imagines #bts scenarios #kpop scenarios #kpop smut #imagines #smut #kpop imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook

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choisgirls · 7 years ago

Text

Hidden Treasures {Vanderwood x MC}

A/N: I hope you guys like it, I can’t say I’m confident because I didn’t completely proof-read this, but! I’ve had this idea based on a dream of mine last year and it’s been sitting in my drafts since then. So here it is!

You’ve got a vast knowledge of history and thirst for adventure.

Your partner has a tongue full of sarcasm and a heart full of annoyance.

The two of you work together with the rest of your team to find and recover ancient artifacts- facing whatever may get in your way.

Words: 5,094

Treasure Hunter!AU

Masterlist~

"I fucking told you to trust me."

"And I told you we were about to be shot!"

You pulled yourself out of the lake. You and your partner had just jumped off of a cliff into the body of water- it was a wonder how you were even alive. At this point, it's a wonder how he was alive- because you were going to kill him. He held out his hand, expecting you to help him out, instead you turned on your heel and started to wring out your clothes so he had to pull himself out with a huff.

"So, let me get this straight," you starting, twisting your shirt different ways, watching the water drip from the fabric, "First, you couldn't trust me when I said I had everything covered, second, you thought the best idea was to push us off of a CLIFF?" You threw an aggravated glare towards your partner as he threw one back at you.

"You didn't have anything covered! We were being shot at! Did you miss that part? You were the one who decided to tell that guy he was lacking in the package department!" He shook his head like a dog, long, brown hair waving around in an attempt to dry his hair out a little.

"Well I was probably right!"

"And that's why you're going to get us killed out here!" He threw his hands out to point in the direction the two of you had come from, "Those people aren't our friends! They don't take jokes well! They want to kill us, MC. They want to win, not share with us."

You bit your lip and turned away from him. He's right, and you know he is- you just refused to tell him that. The goal was to beat them to the end, get what you needed, and get out of there- trying to fight them was useless. You looked at your surroundings and saw a gorgeous view in front of you- forests of tropical trees so thick you couldn't see through them, sounds of the ocean in the distance, large mountains with waterfalls in the distance. Hell, if you weren't here for work, your ass would be in the sand, sipping some fruity alcoholic drink on the beach. A pinch on your cheek ripped you from your day dream.

"Hey, airhead. Welcome back to the real world- you had this smile on your face that honestly freaked me out, don't do that ever again," you grit your teeth, glaring at him with everything you had before attempting to bite his hand, "Anyway, where are we headed? That waterfall?" he asked, letting you go to point to the roaring water in the distance.

"Yeah," you rubbed your cheek, eyebrows furrowed together, "supposedly behind the waterfall is the secret opening to the temple."

"Who hides a temple behind a waterfall?"

"I dunno, who actually decides to sleep with you?" you smirked, waving your hand arrogantly over your shoulder, gaining internal joy when you see his face glow red with anger from your peripheral. "Guess we'll find out more once we get there. Alright strong man, help me up here," you jabbed your thumb towards the cliff behind you when you turned to him. With a groan, he gave you a boost so you could grab the ledge and pull yourself up, lending him a hand as well. The two of you made your way through the brush, scaled different cliffs, made your way up different paths- all to make your way to this gigantic waterfall in the distance.

Of course, this journey had to throw curve balls in your direction. Dealing with Vanderwood himself was not enough, apparently.

All was well until he suddenly pushed you against a rock wall.

"HEY! What the fuck do you think you're doi- mmph!" his hand clamped over your mouth and urged you to hush. With a slight nod of his head, he gestured to the small camp down the trail- a small camp swarming with armed mercenaries playing for the other side.

"Be quiet! You see them, don't you? You don't want to let them know we're here- Ow!" he seethed inwardly when you bit the palm of his hand so he'd pull back.

"You be quiet, I have eyes, I can see!" you whispered harshly. Your brain was running a mile a minute, analyzing the situation in front of you, imagining these men's stats, running through different scenarios for conflict. With one glance towards Vanderwood, you crouched down, running up to one of the larger supply crates set around camp as he followed your lead and made way to the one beside you. One by one, the two of you ran behind crates, dove in bushes, and army crawled through tall grass in an attempt to get past these guys. Unfortunately, you turned the corner from one of the crates to come face to face with a fiercely toned chest and an arm wrapping around your head.

You struggled- twisting and turning in an attempt to get out of this giants headlock when a gunshot rang out and you dropped to the ground, immediately crawling behind the same crate to take cover as your enemies began shooting in your direction, pulling your own side arm from its place against your hip.

"Look at you, being useful for once," you threw your backhand thank you at Vanderwood over your shoulder, gaining a scoff in response.

"Well if you just watched where you were going-"

"I was watching!" You placed your gun on top of the crate, closing one eye to better your aim and pulling the trigger, hitting your mark every time as these men drop to the ground, "See? I'm watching right now, too!" Shot after shot rang out from both sides, until your gun started to click. "Shit! I'm out! Vanderwood, give me some ammo!"

He turned, giving you a heavy glare while holding his gun in front of him, clicking the empty cartridge as well, "No can do dumbass. Now we're screwed!" The both of you looked at each other for a split second before giving the other a slight nod, taking off towards the remaining mercenaries head on. A swift kick to the wrist of the closest one caused them to drop their weapon, which you kicked towards your partner. As you heard gunshots from beside you, you took the opportunity to grab the now defenseless mercenary by the arm, your shoulder digging into their chest, and lift them off of their feet, spinning to swing them into the three others standing behind them. Once the newfound gun ran out of ammo as well, Vanderwood joined you in the action- he landed punch after punch on the closest guy to him, grabbing the arm of the person behind him only to flip them over his shoulder at the one in front of him. He heard sounds of a struggle behind him, looking to find you on the ground, one of the guys sitting above you with his fist connecting with your face with a heavy punch. In a flash, Vanderwood's heel connected with the guys nose, knocking him backwards- and hard. With no time to thank him, you get back up onto your feet, helping him take down the group of people one by one, taking a few hits yourselves. You could hear him wince in pain as one of the bolder enemies got close enough to pull a pocket knife on him, slicing into his shoulder before you took the butt of your gun to the back of their head to knock them out.

The two of you stood together several minutes later, out of breath and admiring your teamwork as several bodies lay on the ground- hopefully just knocked out. At this point, you didn't quite care- you just wanted to get this day over with, you didn't sign up to become part of an arms race. The two of you split up to check the rest of the camp for anything useful.

"Heeey! Idiot! Come here! I found a first aid kit in one of their tents, let me patch you up!" you called out, sifting through papers set on a makeshift desk. He came in and sat in the chair you motioned towards as you lifted the kit to the table, taking out cleaning instruments. "Okay, you gotta move this," you said, moving his low-cut shirt off of his hurt shoulder. You could feel him watching your every move as you tried to clean and stitch the gash as gentle as you could.

"You're actually being pretty soft. I somewhat expected you to shove your thumb into it or something like that." You bit the inside of your cheek and frowned, glancing at him.

"And why did you think that?" you asked, tying off the end of the stitch. You'd have to keep an eye on him for the rest of the day so he doesn't rip it doing something stupid.

"Well, because you're kind of a jerk," he smiled, pulling his shirt back up, looking past you at something on the table.

"I'm a jerk? Have you met yourself! You're the jer-"

"Shut up."

"Wha- hey! Don't tell me to shut up! I should knock your lights ou-"

"Shut up! What is that? Under the medic kit," he gestured behind you, making a sound of affirmation when you grab the correct paper. You took a closer look, taking note of the different symbols scribbled across it- they looked old, foreign, and important. Handing it over to the brunette, you searched through the rest of the papers to see if you had missed anything else important.

"Huh.. Vandy, get this-"

"Don't ever call me that again." You threw a glare over your shoulder at him in defiance.

"Look at these documents," you handed him a couple of papers, "they're all stamped with the same logo."

"Huh, so they are. What about it?" You sighed and tapped the logo, indicating that he should look closer- his eye went wide. "Han Industries? As in our-companies-mortal-enemies Han Industries? Seriously?" He rubbed his eyes, sighing with obvious annoyance, "So either we're racing against them, or someone's working for them, right?"

"Well either way, we're against them, so what does it matter?"

"That's true. Whatever, we're getting close, right? All we have to do is get to the artifact before anyone else does- not a problem!" With a deadpan stare, you slowly turned away from him, searching through supply crates for extra ammo. They were empty. So much for that idea, huh? The two of you set out back on your path, heading up to the waterfall- once the two of you took care of tying up your loose ends in the camp, that is. The two of you would have to be on the lookout for more mercenaries as you advanced.

You took turns leading the other, you constantly helped him climb up sides of cliffs, he would grab onto you every time your foot threatened to slip off the ledge- the two of you were actually working together. Your mind started to wonder. The two of you are constantly set off on missions with one another- maybe you could be a little nicer with him. But were the two of you ever really being mean? Or was it just how the two of you connected with each other? You snapped back to reality when you ran into his extended hand.

"Didn't I tell you earlier to stay down on Earth? I know you're an airhead but that doesn't mean you can take off to la-la land! You need to focus!"

No, you decided, he was really being mean.

"I... was thinking about what we might need to prepare ourselves, we don't know what's up there. What if there's ancient Mayan skeleton's that rise up and attack us?" He rose an eyebrow at you, scrunching his nose as well.

"Look, I get it, we're going to steal something from some ancient Mango society-"

"Mayan. Mayan society."

"Yeah yeah, Mayonnaise, whatever. Point is they've been long gone- unless someone's capable of some hoodoo-voodoo shit, the only real threat here are the other people trying to, oh I don't know, KILL US. Just in case you forgot about it, you know." You glared up at him through your eyelashes, biting the inside of your cheek to keep silent. Hopefully he was right.

He turned back around and started up the path when you heard a snap. Your eyes darted to the wire Vanderwood had just broken- then quickly glanced to your left to find a large, spiked gate swinging in your guys' way. Swiftly, you tackled him from behind and rolled to the side, resulting in a long string of curse words from him- you had to push his face down into the ground just to have an unnecessarily large spike miss the top of his head by mere centimeters. When the trap seemed to have stopped moving, the two of you got back on your feet.

"What the fuck was that!" he yelled, throwing his arms in the air. You walked up to the mechanism, checking out its parts and pieces.

"That," you gestured, "was a fucking JINX. You JINXED US." You pointed an accusatory finger at him, irritation written blatantly across your face. "'The only real threat here are the people trying to kill us, blah blah blah,' you fucking jinxed us with a trap!" He gave you a blank stare, blinking once, twice, three times before his face lit up like a light bulb.

"That means we're getting close!" His chest puffed in pride as the corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk, "Well well well, would you look at that, MC!" he turned forward with his hands on his hips, taking a few steps. "You aren't the only one with all of the Mayan smarts! I'm smart enough to know that they set up traps leading up to their important places, like this cav- FUCK!" In a flash, he flew into the air, now hanging by his ankle from a rope in a tree. You couldn't help but genuinely laugh at him until you couldn't breathe, wiping a tear from your eye as you walk up to him.

"Oh yes! All hail Lord Vanderwood," you teased, placing your hands softly on his cheeks and giving him a bright smile, "The smartest of the land! The holder of all knowledge! The-"

"JUST HELP ME DOWN." He looked incredibly flustered as his voice boomed out. A soft giggle passed your lips as you let go of his face, a smirk replacing your smile as you hand him your pocket knife.

"Get down yourself then, all mighty smartass," you walked around him and went ahead to scout out any more traps when you heard the thud of his body hit the ground, followed by a soft groan. He was quiet when he caught up to you- timid and staying close so he didn't set off any more traps, probably.

A lot of the trail from then on left the two of you feeling like you were running through an obstacle course- jumping over ropes, crawling beneath large spikes, and running as fast as lightning when Vanderwood pushed you onto a stone that triggered an avalanche of boulders to rain down. At the end of the trail, you stood to catch your breath- you bent over, focusing on your breathing, hearing Vanderwood doing the same.

"Hey," he said breathlessly, moving his hand to tap you, "Hey, MC, look." You looked up to find the waterfall in front of you, the water crashing loudly into the pool of water below as it flowed to the waterfall below, and so on and so forth. The crystal blue curtain of water broke every now and again to reveal a small opening in the rocks behind it. You pointed towards it, never looking away, waiting for Vanderwood to stand up and look as well.

"Look, right there. You see it, right? That opening? That's where we have to go, I'm sure of it!" You smiled, excited that you were another step closer to getting what you came for, and you were feet away from being in an ancient, authentic Mayan cavern- your heart was racing.

Leaving the brunette to follow you, you find a small ledge along the pool of water and shuffle across it to get to the opening between the rocks. It was a little tight, but you were able to squeeze through- you tugged on Vanderwood's good shoulder to help him through too. He spun around, looking around the small space for some indication of the artifact.

"What gives? I thought it was going to be here? This is literally just some small hole," he ran a hand through his hair in obvious annoyance, "MC, what the fuck? Don't tell me you had it wrong!"

"I didn't get it wrong!" You stomped your foot in defiance, "I spent hours researching the history and layout of this whole damn island, it has to be here! J-just help me look for some sort of switch or something!"

"You think an ancient civilization has switches? Like ones for the ceiling light? You're kidding.. right?" The doubt in his voice dripped but you shook it off.

"It's not going to look like one of those, but it'll do kind of the same thing. Just find something that looks out of place!" Hands against the wall, you touched almost every inch, feeling for anything that may be off.

"Whatever. There's nothing here, just admit that you got the place wrong so we can find the real thing," he leaned his shoulder against the wall, crossing both his arms and his legs.

"You saw the traps on the way up here! You were right! There's something here! This is the place!" you insisted, your eyebrows furrowing together as you made your way around the small space.

"Yeah well maybe they put the traps there to throw us off like assholes! Who knows! Maybe they are from some other ancient assholes! Maybe they're from aliens-" his eyes quickly darted to the stone underneath his shoulder as it slid further into the wall, slightly knocking him off balance. The cavern was suddenly full of loud, almost mechanical gear sounds as the wall in front of you opened up, shaking the ground as well as letting out a large dirt cloud. Once your coughing fit subsided, you looked into the newly opened room, taking note of the stones on the floor- they seemed to have different symbols on them. You flung your arm out to stop your approaching partner from stepping into the room.

"Wait. Look at floor. There's symbols all across it- you've seen movies, haven't you? Stepping on the wrong one will probably set off some sort of trap- do you really want to set off another one of those?" You rose an eyebrow when you heard his grumble from over your shoulder.

"Keep making fun of me and I'll push you on one of those stones instead," he flicked the side of your head, ignoring your huff of annoyance. "Hey.. MC, look at the symbols. Don't those look like the ones we saw earlier?" He took a crumpled up piece of paper out of his pocket and smoothed it out a bit, holding it in front of your face.

"Uhg, move it back a bit, jerk!" you pushed his hand back so you could focus on the symbols. "Do you think this is the pattern?" you pointed to the darkest written symbol, making a pattern from the darkest to the lightest symbols. You could feel his face right next to yours as he analyzed the paper- your heart stuttered and your lips pursed together as you lowered your eyes in confusion. You shoved your confusion aside and saw him nod from the corner of your eye.

"Yeah, kinda looks like it. Try it out... there! That first symbol looks like the one over there," he pointed to your left, "Step on that one. Just trust me! Do it!" You sighed and decided to have a little faith in him- you gently put your foot on the stone, applying pressure and looking around quickly to judge the rooms reaction. Everything seemed calm, so you had him point out the next one- you move forward as he steps on your previous one. The two of you make it halfway through the room before you run into an issue.

"Uuuh, Vanderwood? None of these stones look like a, what did you call it? A 'break dancing chicken'? What the fuck would that even look like?"

"First of all, stop judging my descriptions. Second of all, what do you mean you don't see one? That's the next one..." he fell silent, minus a soft 'oh no' under his breath.

"Did you say 'oh no'? Don't say that, I don't like that. What the hell do we do!"

"MC, calm down just... just step on a random one and we'll go from there!" You shot a glare at him as sharp as daggers. "Just do it! There's no other way, right? It'll be fine!" In your heart, you knew it was not fine. Slowly, you step onto the closest stone, looking around the room to see if anything had been set off- when all seemed fine you turned around to give him a cheeky smile and a thumbs up but were met with fright written across his features. Strong hands suddenly gripped your arms, pulling your entire body against his own. Your head lay against his chest as your eyes go wide- hearing the whiz of incredibly swift arrows right behind you. Once the sounds settle, you turn your head and notice dozens of arrows stuck in the walls on opposite sides of the room- if Vanderwood hadn't pulled you to him, you would have been the human pin cushion. You turn your head back to look up at him with wide eyes, stammering.

"I- I could have just been completely impaled! I could've had thousands of new piercings! I could've been a fucking MC kebab!" your fists started to pound on his chest, making him let go of you.

"Okay so my plan wasn't exactly thought out-"

"WOW! You think?!"

"-BUT! There's no other way around this. Maybe we should run for it?" You gave him one of the deadliest looks you could muster, watching him visibly swallow and sheepishly smile. "I, uh.. I can go first?" You pushed him in front of you and watched him look at the stones around him, stepping on each one before stepping back to test the waters- he does this throughout the rest of the room, nearly giving you a heart attack each time. By the end of it, he's making jokes about it while you stare in disbelief.

Past the other door were old, rickety stairs which connected to an even more rickety bridge- the creaks and sounds of splitting wood made your heart race; Now, the sound of snapping rope made your heart completely drop instead. The two of you run as fast as possible to the other side- your partner was able to get a grip on the cliff while you held onto one of the boards, slamming into the wall of dirt. Once he pulled himself up, Vanderwood extended his hand to help pull you up, smirking.

"Why are you hanging around? We got shit to do!" With a lifeless stare, you threatened to let go and plunge into the distant water below, but he took hold of your arm and began pulling you up before you could argue. Both feet on solid ground, you brushed yourself off and looked to your left, noticing an updated-looking bridge. Slowly, you turned your head and gave the man an irritated look, squinting your eyes as he gave a small shrug, "Look, I didn't see that one. Ow, don't hit me! We aren't dead!" You trekked forward, sighing. You didn't know this trip would turn into some sort of Indiana Jones-esque adventure. The two of you keep miraculously escaping harm and you're beginning to wonder how long you'll be able to keep this streak up.

Finally you make it to a large, open room teeming with gold- and other people. You didn't have time to take in the beauty of the room, or relish in its amazing history, you had to get out of sight and let your instincts take over.

You hid behind a pillar, listening in on whoever may have beat you to this hidden temple.

"Would you look at this! Isn't it beautiful!" the voice boomed out, echoing throughout the room. Your eyebrows drew together as you gave your partner a curious look from across the room where they hid behind another pillar. Your hand flew to cover your mouth as your eyes shot open at the next voice that piped up.

"Yes, it truly is beautiful. It's a wonder how we managed to even find the thing- this location was incredibly ridiculous to get to."

The look from your partner said it all- the second voice belonged to none other than Jumin Han- the cooperate heir to Han Industries himself- the man your company constantly has their eye's on due to his ties with the media and public- the very man who your intel believes has been recovering and selling ancient artifacts on the black market. With a peek around the pillar, you see an older man turning with the golden idol in his hands- the one you're supposed to be retrieving for your boss. A large hand on your shoulder made you jump- you spun around and threw a punch, suddenly hearing Vanderwood throw another person against the pillar; Your cover was blown and you might as well fight in the open.

Standing back to back with Vanderwood, the two of you take on your attackers one by one, using their own attacks against them. Left hook, right hook, uppercut, flip them over your shoulder! Knock them into one another! At one point you ended up on your face when one of them hooked your ankle when you tried to dodge. You hear the older man yelling for Jumin to leave- the running footsteps indicate that he had. Vanderwood informed you that more of them were sure to be on their way- the two of you had to get that idol and get out of there fast. One by one the mercenaries dropped to the ground, 'Yes!' you thought to yourself, 'We're almost there!'

Until you heard the hammer of a gun click.

You whipped around to find the older man standing there, idol on the floor behind him, arm around your partners neck, and gun against the side of the brunettes head.

You've never seen fear like that in Vanderwood's eyes, your heart dropped in your chest.

"Not another step! I may be an older man but you really shouldn't underestimate me," he said as you froze where you stood, eyebrows practically laced together. "Now, I'm going to walk out of here with that idol and you and your friend are going to stay here and enjoy the lovely fireworks show I've got planned for you."

"What are you talking about-"

"Don't play dumb with me! I know the two of you were behind the destruction of my camp, and responsible for taking down most of my men!" his voice was dripping with rage as he snarled, the corners of his mouth suddenly changing tune and curling into a frightening smile. "You want this idol, right? And what in the world would you do with it?"

"It's our job to recover artifacts and save them by-"

"BY WHAT?" he screamed, causing both you and Vanderwood to flinch. "By putting them in museums? By.. by DONATING them? Do you know how much one of these babies costs? Do you know how many people come crawling to my doorstep just to get a GLIMPSE of things like these? I can get more money on this baby than you will ever see in your lifetime." You looked down at the floor, piecing together newly recovered information- a breakthrough causing your eyes to go wide.

"It's you! You're the one that's been selling the recent artifacts... not Han..."

"Oh no, it's Han alright," he sneered, "You surely didn't think my idiot son would be selling on the black market? He actually cares about these things, wants to see them put into museums, on display- ridiculous! That goodie two shoes couldn't do what I do- he'll never be the man I am. He wants to get ahead by doing good! By working hard- working honestly! I run this company! Why do you think we're so big? Because of him? And his stupid charity work? Preposterous!"

You grit your teeth- sure, Jumin has been a technical enemy of yours and your entire company for a while, but that doesn't mean his father has the right to talk about him like this. Balling your fists, you get a slight crazed look in your eye.

"SHUT UP! Stop your entire bad guy spiel! This isn't some cliché fucking movie!" you threw your hand out, "Just let my partner go and give us the idol!"

"Or what? You're going to glare at me to death?" he laughed, "Pathetic. I told you, there's going to be a fireworks show for you! A lovely little accident with some unfortunately placed dynamite, the two of you will be stuck down here- oh no, poor you two! And me and my son will continue going about our business, recovering these wonderful artifacts!"

With a huff, you looked at Vanderwood, shaking your head when he gestured towards the idol. Did he really expect you to risk going after it while the gun was pointed at his head? The determination in his face and fire in his eyes broke your heart into pieces. You took a deep breath, snapping your head over to Han senior to look straight into his eyes before taking a step forward.

"I said don't move!" he yelled, shoving the barrel of his gun harder against the brunettes head, "Move closer and I'll pull the trigger!"

Another step.

"I said stop!" His finger went stiff, pulling closer to the trigger.

Another one.

"That's it!" he screamed.

Another one.

A shot rang out.

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