#ive actually been struck down with a cold all week so one could say i am experiencing 'healing' atm

[moldspace]

I got my lil troll guy yesterday!!! I'm so happy!!! Look at him!!! His name is Marimo 😌

🟢😐🪴💛 hehehe

Also! I got your How to Evolve zine, and I sat down to read it this morning with my coffee... and I cried. Not only was it just plain beautiful, it was exactly what I needed to hear as someone who used to make art constantly but hasn't for years.

so I wanted to say thank you so much for bringing me so much joy today. may you experience as much happiness and healing this week as you've brought me through your art 🥰

aww what a perfect name for him! and I'm so touched the zine resonated and I hope it can help you to make some more art again (if you want to!) 💖💕

[animereaderinsertwriter]

Cupbearer (Eren/Reader)

Part III

Part I

Part II

Part IV (in progress)

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (im watching you, if you see this, begone!), vampire!eren, hunter!reader, fem!reader, smut, some amount of predator/prey dynamics but only kinda?? there is also a significant age difference but only cos eren is immortal and all that jazz. we're all adults here. there will eventually be smut.... and do i really need to say that there's gonna be blood in a vampire fic?

Description: A story of falling in love in 4 parts.

Eren is a bad man (well, a bad Creature) who has done bad things. When he meets the great-great-great granddaughter of one of his former friends in his favorite blood bar, however, he thinks it might not matter so much what happened in the past, so long as he can make the future something worth living to see.

Ao3 link here

After that night, it became increasingly hard for (Y/N) to leave, and for Eren to let her do so.

Something between them had changed. There were moments— when Eren would press feather-light kisses against her forehead, when he would casually leave a cup of her favorite tea where she would find it— where (Y/N) felt as though her heart might burst. It was all the little things that baffled her, all the ways in which he seemed to understand exactly how she felt; it was as though he knew her more than she knew herself. On the mornings that she would wake in his bed, sleepy and sticky and wholly content, (Y/N) wondered what it would be like to have this life forever.

Other days— on days like today— she was reminded exactly why that could never be, and it broke her heart.

Today, they had planned a romantic dinner in the park, an evening under the stars. It was supposed to be something special, a little getaway just for the two of them; they had wanted to leave as soon as (Y/N) was relieved from her patrol, so Eren had moved her things to his place, hoping that they could leave together from there for their evening alone.

In and of itself, that was fine… but when (Y/N) came in, covered head-to-toe in viscous Creature blood, Eren was furious.

“And you call me a monster,” he growled, looking her up and down with hate in his eyes. “I can’t believe you.”

He stood from his seat on the sofa, and (Y/N) began to back away, still wary from the fight she had narrowly escaped from unscathed. Her every instinct told her that she should run, fire a round of silver bullets into his chest, but she steeled herself, doing neither.

“It’s not my fault— they were attacking a civilian,” she told him as he stalked towards her, his face twisted into a horrific scowl. “I tried to stop them— tried to find out what was going on— but then they came at me with their claws, and I was left with no choice.”

“There is always a choice,” he snarled, and it was then that anger filled (Y/N) from the soles of her feet to the crown of her head. "They were probably terrified of you— how could you possibly blame them for lashing out?"

(Y/N) grit her teeth.

“This, from the man who thought genocide was his only option to the same problem?”

Eren made a low, warning sound in the back of his throat, but (Y/N) pressed on.

“You would rather me have died?” she demanded, stepping into his space. “Would it have pleased you more for my body to bleed out on the pavement, ripped to shreds by an aggressive werewolf? Would you even care, or would you just find the next blood bag and move on with your life?”

“Maybe so,” he shot back, “Then I wouldn’t have to deal with your insufferable mouth.”

That stung— but if there was one thing (Y/N) knew how to do, it was to strike back twice as hard as she had been struck.

“Fine then,” she said, turning on her heel. “I won’t bother you any longer. I’ll go out and find someone who actually wants my company, someone who’ll fuck me good and proper over the counter at some hole-in-the-wall bar over on Easy Street, someone younger, with a nicer cock and less fucking baggage— ”

She didn’t get to finish the sentence, or even walk a single step further�� Eren grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to him, his fist painfully tight against her scalp.

“Wanna say that again, to my face?” he asked, tilting her head back.

“I’ll go find someone else to fuck me,” she spat, struggling in vain against him. “I’ll spread my legs for the next available schmuck in the closest bar I can find, so you can hear me scream his name and not yours.”

It was a low blow, to threaten a vampire’s claim on something they had previously assumed had belonged to them, but (Y/N) didn’t care. She had almost died today, and she’d be damned if she was going to take shit from anyone about what she had to do to survive. If Eren wanted a fight, she would damn sure give him one.

“Like hell you will,” he told her, pulling her head back so that she had to strain to remain standing. “You’re mine. Flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood— you are my Companion.”

"I belong to no one!"

Those words ripped from her throat and echoed throughout the empty house, and it was then that Eren stopped, looking at her with calculation in his gaze.

"You're right," he said, releasing her hair. "No mortal can serve two masters, lest they love one and despise the other; an archaic religious concept, but an accurate one nonetheless. You've made it abundantly clear where your loyalty lies. I was a fool for thinking otherwise."

(Y/N) began to tremble. "Eren, what are you saying?"

"I release you from our pact," he replied coldly, his eyes so dull and lifeless that it sent a chill down her spine. "No longer are you bound to be my wine-press— I free you from me."

"Eren—"

"Go," he commanded, and (Y/N) felt terribly, horribly empty.

Once, he would have told her to come freely, go safely, and leave something of the happiness she brought him; now, he gave her a cold dismissal, and it frightened her more than she was willing to admit. Still, she went, feeling hollow and used, and she didn't bother to shut the door behind her as she turned to walk home, weary from the day and sick from fighting.

***

Armin had lived for a very long time, but even so, he had yet to meet anyone so foul of temper as Eren when the Hunger was on him.

"Eren, you have to feed."

The vampire, as ill in health as in temper, glared weakly at him. "I'm not hungry."

"But you are Hungry, and don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about. Look, if this is about that girl—"

"I told you not to speak of her!"

Ah, so it was about her. By the looks of him, it had been two weeks since Eren had fed; Armin would bet that he hadn't seen her in the same amount of time.

"If I need to, I'll drag her here to make up with you myself," said Armin testily, "I refuse to watch my best friend starve himself because he refuses to feed on anyone else."

"You will not touch her."

Armin rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything further. He just patted Eren's arm in farewell and set about finding the little lady who was the root cause of his current consternation.

It took longer than Armin had anticipated to find the young woman who had, for all intents and purposes, completely unraveled Eren's composure; her scent, while thick and memorable in Eren's apartment, was hard to track otherwise. Armin spent two hours just wandering the city while trying to catch a breath of it here or there, and when he finally did manage to catch a whiff of her scent and follow it to her, he understood exactly why it had been so hard to track her down.

The girl was a Hunter, of all things.

When Armin found her, she was knee-deep in sewage, her knife embedded to the hilt in the skull of what appeared to be some species of winged reptile. Armin, having been a tad desperate and not actually having been expecting to find anything when he lifted the lid to the man-hole on 32nd and Main, was surprised to say the least— and when (Y/N) ripped her knife free and readjusted her stance into a defensive one directed at him, his surprise turned to intrigue.

“Er, hello there,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t suppose you’ll take my word for it that I just want to chat, will you?”

Curiously, the words gave the woman pause. She relaxed her stance ever-so-slightly, and then her eyes lit up with recognition.

“Armin Arlert?” she queried, craning her neck up to see him. “Is that you?”

This one grows curiouser and curiouser, he thought, but responded affirmatively.

“Can you give me a bit, then?” she asked, kicking the corpse of the Creature she’d just killed. “I’m not exactly fit for company. Perhaps we could meet later for a discussion over tea?”

“I’m afraid it’s urgent,” he said as she knelt to decapitate her prey— likely for proof of victory. “I think you know why I’m here, so you understand that time is of the essence.”

She didn’t look up at him as she replied.

“If this is about Eren, then I don’t have time to talk.”

Her tone was hard, bitter, and matter-of-fact, and it reminded Armin so much of Jean that it hurt… but just like Jean, Armin would bet that she could be won over by appealing to her inherent sense of human decency

“He’s suffering (Y/N),” he said, awkwardly crouching above the manhole so that she could better see the truth written in his eyes. “He won’t feed.”

“That’s hardly my problem.”

And oh, how well Armin knew that state of mind. If there was one thing Eren Jaeger knew how to do, it was push away the people who loved him most. Armin had dealt with that particularly lovely quirk of his for centuries, and it never got easier to deal with no matter how much time passed. If anything, it got more difficult the older they both got.

“When you’re the solution to a problem, you become a part of it whether you like it or not,” Armin replied, patient and understanding. “He cares for you.”

(Y/N) looked up at him then, fury in her eyes.

“He hurt me.”

Armin shrugged. “He hurts everyone he cares about. It’s just who he is. Nothing comes for free— least of all the love and loyalty of someone as old and as powerful as Eren.”

“Your heart may be toughened to his meanness,” she told him, the head of the creature she’d slain in her hands, “But mine is not, and I don’t like him well enough to willfully remain for him to use as an emotional punching bag.”

At that, Armin couldn’t help but let loose a wry grin.

“No,” he said, “I should think not; but I do think you love him well enough to make sure he doesn’t starve himself to death because he can’t have you.”

(Y/N) was silent for a long moment, then she crossed her arms.

“I won’t come crawling to him. He’s going to have to come to me.”

Armin grimaced. He wasn’t looking forward to that conversation.

“Is that at all negotiable?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

Well, there was nothing for it.

“And you will let him feed if he comes to you?”

(Y/N) thought, then nodded. “If he proves himself deserving.”

Armin couldn't help himself; he laughed. Eren might have met his match in this one.

"Very well. I'll work my magic, and you work yours."

She nodded and bade him farewell, but before Armin left, he paused.

"Hey, (Y/N)?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

With that, he left her, ready to take Eren by the ear and throw him at her if he had to.

***

(Y/N)'s heart was racing as she opened the door, knowing good and well who would be behind it.

After her little talk with Armin— and the near heart attack he had given her in the process— she had called in to Zeke and told him she needed to go home to deal with an emergency. A replacement for her patrols had been sent, and she had come home to wash the grim from her skin, making herself as presentable as possible with the time she had. (Y/N) was worried, so worried, that the filth she had been wading in earlier would have left a lingering stench, or even that it had affected the taste of her; she had scrubbed and scrubbed until her skin was raw, hoping to erase every last remnant of her day from her skin…but as it turned out, she needn't have bothered.

Two, three, four hours later, and Eren hadn't shown— it was only now, right at the six hour mark, that he had decided to come to her.

Needless to say, (Y/N) was… less than pleased, but when she opened the door to find Eren pale and drawn, with dark circles beneath his eyes, her heart softened ever-so-slightly. It seemed that Armin was right; he had been suffering.

"You look like shit," she told him quietly, opening her door widely to let him in.

"I assure you, I feel worse," Eren grumbled, but stepped in as she closed the door behind him.

For a long, awkward moment, they just looked at each other, silent and unsure. It was unsettling how unlike himself Eren seemed; he was almost soft when he looked at her, and (Y/N) didn't know how to feel about it. Eventually, though, like two opposite ends of a magnet, they were drawn together, and Eren brushed a piece of hair back from her face.

"Hi," he said, his voice low and rough. (Y/N) caught his hand in hers before it could fall from her hair, and she pressed it against her chest, keeping it trapped there, touching the skin above her beating heart.

"Hey."

They watched each other a moment more before the dam broke between them, and they both spoke at once.

"I'm sorry."

A shared grin, a shy laugh— and then (Y/N) said what they both were thinking.

"You need to feed first, and talk later," she told him, her hand still clasped in his. "You're not off the hook, but I doubt we can have any real conversation with you like this."

Eren nodded gratefully, tugging at her wrist— his usual biting spot— but (Y/N) shook her head, indicating her neck. The thickest, richest blood, she knew, would come from there; and if there was ever a time to be generous with the placement of Eren's bite, she figured that it would be now.

The worst of it was over quickly. There was a brief sting at the intrusion of razor-sharp fangs, and then the vaguely uncomfortable feeling of having something poking down into places that decidedly should not be poked at all, but then (Y/N) quickly eased into the rhythm of the act, focusing wholly on the way Eren's lips felt against her skin. In a few moments, she would become pleasantly light-headed, and then Eren would pull away and look at her like she'd hung the stars. Oh, how she'd missed that look! (Y/N) found herself longing for it even before she quite realized it.

And then, without warning, a vision came, and (Y/N) was swept into another world entirely.

The evening sky rolled endlessly out towards the horizon; it seemed to go on forever, sparkling with more stars than (Y/N) had ever seen before. The full moon was so bright that it cast the whole world in what seemed like silver sunlight, and (Y/N) wondered how anyone could sleep on a night such as this. It was far too beautiful an experience to miss.

Alongside her— alongside Eren, through whose eyes she saw the world— strode Armin and two older-looking cadets who she recognized from previous memories as Reiner and Berthold. Eren was feeling anxious over something, and Reiner and Berthold were… well, they were kind. Reiner especially seemed to be like an older brother, and Eren admired him.

"You'll do just fine tomorrow," said Reiner, placing a large, warm hand on Eren's shoulder. "I'm certain of it."

The memory ended, and (Y/N) came back to herself as Eren's tongue laved over the wounds his fangs had left in her neck, sealing them.

"See anything?" he asked, his breath warm against her skin, and (Y/N) nodded.

"You loved them, too," she said softly, remembering the fondness Eren had felt as though it had been her own. "You loved the Hunters that tried to take everything from you, and— and I think they loved you, too."

Eren pulled away from her, and it was then that she saw the tears shining in his eyes.

"Yes," he replied, his voice broken. "We were children. How could we not love each other as God intended? Hate was never in our nature; it was an inheritance that we couldn't escape."

He paused for a moment, then spoke again.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he told her, cupping her cheek in his hand. "I lost my temper. I forget— I forget that you're not them."

And (Y/N) understood. She understood that no matter how many centuries passed, there would be wounds that just wouldn't heal for Eren. He would lash out at things that wouldn't make sense to anyone who hadn't experienced the horrors of war as he had. Suddenly, she felt petty for having lashed out as she had, and guilt threatened to rise up and choke her.

"You're forgiven," she replied, leaning into his touch. "It takes two to tango— I shouldn't have baited you like I did. I knew how badly that would hurt you, and that's exactly why I said it."

At that, Eren cracked a grin.

"I expect nothing less from a Kirschtein. Your grandfather would have punched me square in the jaw— and as big as that bastard got when we were older, he probably would have put me on my ass."

(Y/N) couldn't help but laugh, and Eren joined her, their combined joy swelling until there was nothing else in the world but their happiness.

How they started kissing, neither one of them would be able to say afterwards, but in the grand scheme of things, it hardly mattered. Their love was too large to contain, too much to hold back— and it was love, (Y/N) realized, though she hadn't quite put words to it yet. She loved Eren Jaeger, a Creature, a monster, as much as her grandfather before her had and more. She loved him with a desperation that felt like being knocked over by an ocean wave and plunged into depths where her feet no longer touched the sand. She loved him more than she had ever loved anyone before.

And, as he placed her gently on her bed that was barely big enough for two, divesting himself of his shirt above her, (Y/N) thought that maybe she didn't mind it so much as long as he loved her in return.

"I missed you," said Eren, dropping kisses by her ear as he unhooked her bra. "I missed this."

"Me too," she gasped as his mouth wandered to her nipple, her hands fisting in his hair. "Oh, God, I missed you too."

The time for words was soon gone, however; Eren's sinful, sinful mouth traveled lower and lower until he was kissing at the insides of her thighs, parting them to access what lay between, and (Y/N) threw her head back as he spread her open with his hands and sucked brazenly at her clit.

How long he spent there, worshipping her sex, (Y/N) had no idea; all she knew was that she came once from his mouth on her and a second time from his fingers inside her, and when he finally, mercifully withdrew, she was broken down to the simplest parts of herself; there was nothing left but an affection so deep that it threatened to overtake her if she didn't let it out, and she did the only thing she knew to do to release the overwhelming pressure that was building in her chest as Eren pushed his big, veiny cock into her.

She told him what she should have said a long time ago.

"Oh, Eren," she gasped as his cockhead shoved deep inside her. "I love you."

As soon as the words came out of her mouth, Eren went unnaturally still. He looked at her with pupils blown wide inside emerald eyes, and his fangs slightly distended; in any other situation, (Y/N) might have laughed at how surprised he seemed, but it seemed as though she were frozen in time, unable to do anything but stare earnestly up at them, hoping he understood how much she cared for him.

"You… what?"

"I love you," she repeated, her body moving without her permission to roll her hips up into him, moving his cock even further inside her. "Please, Eren, I need—"

He cut her off with a forceful, bruising kiss, and his hips started making slow, deep thrusts inside her, her legs hiked up over his shoulders.

"Again," he said against her lips."Say it again."

"I love you."

Another thrust or two, a hand circling her wounded throat.

"Again."

"I love you, Eren."

"Again."

This time, it was only a whisper.

"I love you," she said, and Eren began fucking her in earnest.

"You are so fucking beautiful," he told her as he thrust hard and deep inside her. "You're every man's dream, a nirvana the damned such as myself were never meant to reach. (Y/N), you are everything, and I—"

He seemed to choke on the words, and (Y/N) kissed him as he tried to regain his composure.

"I don't deserve you," he said, shaking with the force of their passion. "I don't deserve your love."

It's not about deserving, she wanted to say, It never was, but then she was coming again, her climax contracting her walls around her lover, and it was all she could do to remain conscious as Eren fucked her relentlessly through it all, chasing his own high.

It was only later, after a shower and something to eat that they finally spoke again. They were back in bed, and Eren's arm was wrapped around her, as though he were afraid to let her go for even a moment; truthfully, (Y/N) thought he was asleep, but then his breath tickled her ear as he said,

"I love you, angel."

And that, (Y/N) thought, had been worth it all, in the end.

[itsthestutterforme]

Redeemed (Supernatural)

Redeemed Circuit 1/4

Y/N was previously tortured by Dean while he had the mark of cain. They thought she was a demon that worked for Abbadon. Turns out, she was just a human with an allergy to oil. A year later, Y/N was actually a prophet and the Winchester need her to find a way to trap Michael from the other world

Characters: Dean Winchester x POC!reader, Sam x reader, Castiel x reader

--

"Please, I'm telling you that truth!" Y/N begs as Dean scraped his ugly blade against her clavicle. Sharp stings littering her body and extends to every cut that he made. They speak of Abbadon and demons. At first she called them psychos and high off their asses if they wanted her to believe that demons were real. It wasn't until she saw Dean's eyes flicker black that fear struck her silent.

These cuts and oil burning have been going on for days, and at this point, she wanted to beg for death. "You're going to tell me where Abbadon is," "I don't know where or who Abbadon is, I swear."

Her throat scratches against itself of soreness from her long screams. She was barely able to keep her eyes opened. He grabs her face and pulls her inches away from his.

"You disgust me," he insults before leaving the room. She winced as he slams the door shut and tears pricked her eyes for the hundredth time. The door creaks up but she doesn't bother lifting her head.

Footsteps near her and hand touches her arm. She pulls away from his rough, calloused hands. "Wait a minute, these are- Dean!" "No, please, don't bring him back here." She pleads. "It's alright, honey, I'm so sorry I didn't catch this sooner."

"I'm starting to think she doesn't know anything, we should just kill her." Dean says, making her whimper lightly. "No, look. She's breaking out into hives. She's have an allergic reaction, she's not a demon." Sam says.

She looked up at Sam through swollen eyes as he pulls her wrists and ankles from their restraints. "I'll get the first aid kit," Dean says before leaving the room again. "I am so sorry." "No, let me.. leave me at the hospital." "At the severity of your wounds, you won't make it to the hospital," Sam explains. "I'll take my chances,"

"Listen, I'll.. how about I help you. He doesn't have to touch you." She shakes her head and pushes him away. "Take me to the hospital or let me die." That was the last thing she said before blacking out completely.

A constant beep of a monitor is the only thing she hears. Her eyes slowly peel open to see her brother, Y/B/N holding his face in his hands. He must of heard her sit up because his head shot up and met her eyes with his red, puffy ones. "Y/N? Oh my God," he stands from his chair and takes one of her hands into his.

"We've been looking for you everywhere. And everyone thought that you were.. I'm just glad you're okay." He wipes away his tears with the cuff of his sleeve. No words came to mind to say.

Ironic, really because her mind is blank but her body has plenty to say. Between the stitches, the IV and Dean's punches, getting ran over sounds like a dream right now.

**

Sam and Dean were tired of standing around waiting to find out when Castiel will find the new prophet that was called forth. They just came back from a hunt and settled down after taking their showers.

They need the prophet to translate the angel tablet they found in the other world.The world where Mary and Jack resided. Hopefully it will help defeat Michael who is definitely coming over here into this world. Castiel just came back from Heaven in search of the next prophet, and what do you know, it's Y/N.

Castiel sets the file down on the table in front of the Winchesters and they opened to see Y/N's picture. "Oh you've got to be kidding me," Dean says, running a hand over his face. "Wait, you know her?" "Yeah, she hates us." Sam says. "It doesn't matter, she has a duty as a prophet to provide what the Lord set out,"

"Believe me, she would rather jump off a bridge than help us." "I'll bring her here," "No!" Sam says, making Cas stop his movements. "Let me just. I'll pick her up. Just tell me where she is." "The last I sensed her, she was in Boise, Idaho," "Do you need any help?" "She won't go if you're there, Dean."

"I know, I just.." Dean trails off and his gazs falls to the floor. "Nevermind," he adds before walking off. "What happened between them?" Cas asks. Sam shakes his head and says, "You don't want to know,".

Sam packs a go bag and takes the Impala to get Y/N. He drives around bars and shops and finally found me walking out of the grocery store with brown, paper bags in my hand.

"Y/N," Sam says as he approaches her. She pulls her head out from under the car. When she sees Sam, her eyes widen and she pulls out her gun. She aims it at him and takes off the safety. "Whoa, whoa! I-I'm not here to hurt. I just need your help." She slightly lower her gun and look to the Impala for Dean.

"He's not here," he says and she puts the safety on before tucking it under her belt. "You okay?" Sam asks. She raised her index finger before reaching back into the car for a writing pad.

"Help for what?" She writes and showed him. "Did something happen to your voice?" "I made a vow," she writes. "Because of Dean?" he asks.

She didn't say anything but she pulls the writing pad closer to her chest. "Listen, there is something coming. Something bigger than all of us, an archangel. And he's coming here to lay waste to our world. We may have something to stop it but we can't read it without a prophet.

"I know. I've been having visions." She writes. He nods and she looks at him for a moment. Almost as if he read her mind, he says, "I will make sure that he leaves you alone." "He's your brother,"

"What we did was wrong, but this isn't about us. It's about the world." "I know," "So you'll help us?" She nods before writing, "I need to get my computer first,"

**

It's been weeks since she went to the bunker for the first time. Seeing Dean for the first time in years sent chills down her body. Everything that happened, everything that he did to her was still fresh in her mind.

She has nightmares every night and wake up. It took her months to make sure she didn't scream herself awake.

"I don't know, Dean." "Oh come on, I'm not going to do anything," Dean says. They think she plays music while have earphones on when she is translating the tablet on her computer. Well sometimes, she does.

Other times she just put it on to listen in their conversations. "You know how she acts when you even look at her too long," "We have to learn to work together, especially with Michael coming here,"

"What do you think she's doing? She didn't have to help us. She could have said screw you and left us to die. But she's pushing past things," "Sam, you're just going for a milk run. It's not that big of a deal. She'll be fine." Dean says.

The sound of the door opening and closing echoes through out the bunker. She hears Dean walks behind her and she could feel the hairs on her neck stand up.

"I know you can't hear me but, I have to say it. Words can't even begin to express how much guilt I have weighing on my chest. It's so heavy that I can't even breathe. I--" she stands up from the table and take off my earphones.

She locks eyes with him for the first time she got there. She shake her head and closed her computer before rushing into her room to lock the door behind her.

Why the hell do I feel bad for him? He's the one that made my life hell! He doesn't deserve my forgivness. She thinks to herself. She collapses on the bed and sigh when she heard her phone chiming.

She reaches over the bed and into the nightstand to look at who was it was. She clicked on her Y/B/N contact and opened a new message from him.

It was a man with glowing blue eyes mainly in the frame but in the very left top corner, she saw her brother beaten to a bloody pulp. The background seemed oddly familiar Fear shudders through her body and she could feel it starting to freeze over.

"DEAN!" She yells. That was the first time she spoke in two years. Heavy footsteps run towards her room and before she could stand to open the door, he kicks the door in.

She showed him the phone and his jaw clenches. "He has my brother," "He's already here. Did you find anything important on the tablet?" "Yeah, I'm practically finished. There's a scepter like weapon with angel grace in it. That's the only thing that kill him."

"Do you have no idea where it is?" "Not me, but your angel friend can," "Alright, pack a go bag and meet me in the garage in 10," She nods and pull open the drawers when Dean says, "And Y/N?"

"Yeah?" "We'll get him back." She doesn't say anything and continued to pack. They packed clothes and weapons before texting Sam her address to meet.

Within a couple hours, they arrived at her house and there was an eerie vibe about it. Dean wanted her to wait in the car until Sam got there but she couldn't wait while that son of a bitch was hurting her brother.

She ran inside and Dean followed her into went to the house. Blood was smeared all over the walls and windows. The house stenched of metal and rotting flesh. She found my brother with his skull cracked open in the kitchen.

She heart was barely able to take seeing him like that but when she saw her niece with bruises littering her neck, she lost it.

That son of a bitch strangled her to death. She must have been so scared. Y/N cradled her cold, limp body in her arms and smooth out her soft, curly hair. "I'm so sorry, honey." She stand up but her eyes don't leave the corpse. "I need a minute," "Whatever you need," he says before leaving the room.

Anger boils her blood and yells erupted from her chest. She rushed out of the room and kicked the couch forwards. She grabbed the lamp and throw it against the wall.

She picked up the nightstand and slamed it on the ground with a satisfying crack. She kicked the nightstand and into the corner and standing in front of the family portrait.

Her fist finds its way through the picture and she just kept punching and punching. She didn't care if the glass was piercing through the flesh of my hands.

Sam finally arrives at Y/N's house with Cas. "I'll check around the perimeter of the house," Cas says. Sam nods and asks, "Where's Y/N?" Right on cue, she yells out in anger.

"Y/N," Sam tries to walk into the house but Dean holds him back. "Give her a minute. She found the bodies of her brother and niece," Dean explains. Sam sighs deeply and runs a hand through his hair. "It's our fault," Sam says.

"I know. They would still be alive if she didn't help us," Dean says. "She's already been through enough," "He's gone. There's no trace of Michael." Cas says to them as he walks up the steps. "Damn it," Dean says.

Y/N is huddled in the corner with her bleeding hands. "Alright, Y/N, enough of this. There's only one thing left to do now." She stands up and walks out of the house. Their eyes fall to her hands and she noticed. "It's alright, don't worry about it." "We should at least cover it so it doesn't get infected." "I need to get this cleaned up," she says, motioning to the house.

"You don't have to do this alone, Y/N." "I'm used to it," she says, walking passed them and opening the garage. She pulls out a shovel and Sam gets in the way. "Y/N, please. Let us help," he explains.

"I know you feel guilty, but it's best if you leave. I'm not angry at you, I'm just tired of the people around me getting hurt." She looked from Sam to Dean and Dean steps closer to her.

"Well you're stuck with us. And we're all in." "Once I'm done here, I'm making sure Michael's head is on a pike. And I'm not taking no for an answer."

"Like I said, all in." Dean says. "Then start digging a pit at least a foot deep. We have to burn everything in that house." She says, handing them both a shovel.

"You've done this before?" Sam asks. "My brother did, and he told me in case something happened to him.." she trails off. "I'll get your hands cleaned up," Cas says, motioning to her hands. "Fine,"

[fandomsilhouette]

meet me halfway (i hope you’ll stay) part iv

Riposte, parry, advance, slay, watch the fencers fight today. Pull the mask down, keep it tight, one of them will win the fight this very night the darkness shutters, then off the butterfly will flutter onto wristbands and broken hearts, secrets and counterparts that fall apart, don’t start this fight they cannot win, for they don’t know who they have been. 

Happy @felinettenovember​, y’all! This is actually the last of the angst arc, and the last two days of the month will come towards a resolution and cathartic fluff; luckily, the nonlinear timeline means that you’ve read the character development before today’s instigating catalytic event, so we can move directly into the healing. I wrote this entirely on @musicfren​‘s support and baby cousin’s hype (she doesn’t know, but I love talking to her, it gives me so much energy to create), and I hope you feel it in the story. 

Part 1 here. Part 2 here. Part 3 here. Part 4 below. Part 5-6 coming.

Marinette splays out in the playground grass and tucks into his side, and Felix curls up around her near-protectively, except they both know which one is the dreamer, which one is the doer. Felix always argues it doesn’t make sense to assign identities so unilaterally, that both of them dream and both of them do, and Marinette scrunches her nose and says he’s ruining the aesthetic of the ideal, and that they do pick roles in contexts even if they switch later, and she yanks on her ponytail if he agitates her enough. Felix thinks it’s pretty cute and doesn’t let up until she pouts at him in that crinkled nose, scrunched eyebrows kind of way.

She’s making that face now, half annoyed, half wholeheartedly upset, tracking Chat Noir as he races gleefully across the nearby skyline.

“Not a fan of our resident alley cat?” Felix teases, bumping into her shoulder with his head. Her expression sharpens, more pronounced in its disgust, and she shakes her head against the grass until stray leaves are caught up in her hair. Felix laughs and picks them out, one by one. “Why not, then?”

“He’s a bad partner. It shows.” Marinette speaks in clipped tones and impatient, twitchy gestures, like there’s more she has to say and is tamping down the impulse, vicious and unforgiving with her own self.  

“Partnerships take two, though,” he comments idly, “It’s Ladybug’s fault just as much as his.”

Marinette is already scrambling backwards, rolling out of his arms the way she’s never done before. “What? Why would it be? Chat Noir is no hero. Chat Noir is the one who doesn’t keep his word. Chat Noir is the one who doesn’t show up, who doesn’t plan or lead or even follow. He’s a hero under his own agenda and no other, and that’s nothing more than a little boy with eyes too big for his heart and greed bigger than any akuma.” She’s panting as she comes to a stop, shocked to find herself no longer speaking, as if there was more she kept saying that never managed to make it past her vocal chords, a screeching halt directed by long earned muscle memory and desperation.

She’s pushing to her feet, agitated, pacing, so Felix stumbles up to match her. “Ladybug does too much.” He leans back against the tree they’ve been lazing under and crosses his arms to look at her.

“How could a hero possibly do too much.” It’s not a question when she asks and she makes sure he knows it.

“It’s-- Paris is going to collapse one day!”

“Of course it is!”

“So why won’t she just let it?!”

“Why would she?!”

They’re matching each other tone for tone, tomb for tomb, step for angry forward step until they manage to notice where they are, find themselves in each other’s space, crowded in by the anger and frustration.

“...she needs to let Paris crash.” Felix waits, expecting an interruption, but Marinette has settled back down onto her heels and is waiting for him to explain. “She keeps picking up all the slack, carrying a weight that’s not hers,” and at that Marinette huffs a wry agreement, so Felix feels encouraged to keep going. “And as long as she does, no one in the city is ever going to learn to bear their share of responsibility. She’s going to break under the pressure, and as long as the city isn’t prepared, they’re not going to handle it, Marinette, they’re going to break. We need to practice, we need a controlled crash, we-- we’re going to destroy ourselves because some little girl thought she needed to do everything on her own power, like some kind of control freak--”

Marinette snaps. “You would know about that, wouldn’t you! You have no idea the way--” her words dry up in her throat, and Felix crows about this evident proof that she has nothing of substance to say at all, now that she’s finding herself speechless.

“You’re right, I would know about that, because I’ve lived it, you’ve seen me! And I had to learn to fall and get back up on my own, I never stopped until everyone around me stopped cleaning up my messes all the time! And I never learned to trust anyone until I learned to let go, and I felt so. Much. Better. Ladybug should try it,” Felix adds snidely, just because he knows it’ll rile her up.

It does.

“How! How can she try it, when you fell and left a crater with a wreckage diameter the size of your personal bubble of three whole people, and had your mother and your teachers and me. Who do-- does Ladybug have, who’ll hold her hand when she scrambles back up? Hers would level the city and ripple through the country from there and there’s no one around to pick up the pieces.”

“That’s why she has to do it now!” Felix doesn’t realize he’s shouting until he is, and he doesn’t know how to stop. He wants to, he wants to, he wants to; he remembers being the kind of person who shouted and feels the pressure of all the work he’s put in to be better, live up to someone else’s standard of good, and scrabbles for purchase on this improved self.

“That’s why she can’t!” Marinette isn’t yelling. She’s heartbroken, and it’s clear across her face, and Felix cannot find the piece that makes this puzzle make sense. She’s never even been akumatized.

“You have no idea the way Ladybug has destroyed civilians.”

She recoils, struck. Her voice is quiet when she speaks. “Don’t I, though?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

And then: “Okay. You’re right, I’m sorry, please--” Marinette is reaching out for his hand, hurt and humiliated and hating the way she might lose the only support she has left. “Please don’t go.”

But Felix has remembered how much work it is to be the kind of good that someone else decides is valuable, constantly stretching and straining to clear their expectation of good, right, kind. He slips into the same scowling boy he used to be and finds an old chest of tools tucked up against a wall lined with new weapons in his arsenal of cruelty and self-protection. He takes one, and fires.

“You don’t know how to be sorry. Not about this.” He shakes her hand off and stalks away. Felix was so used to holding onto Marinette, gripping her hand or leaning on her shoulder or tucking an arm around her waist, that walking through the places they used to haunt without her feels lost, untethered, like he’s drifting through a graveyard of corpses that have yet to pass away. It feels like he’s come home.

Ladybug spends the night on rooftops, avoiding streetlights and windowsills and her own tempestuous thoughts, trying to flee faster than the burnout can catch up to her and make its home in her body, swinging from one place to another hoping to catch enough height to clear the bar for a city’s expectation to be good, right, kind. The city’s expectations to be a hero, just like she’s always lived up to, always will so long as there’s nothing below her to fall onto. So long as there’s something left to lose.

They don’t look at each other for a week, and avoid each other altogether when cold winter falls and they settle into break. 

[thewildomega]

Star in the Sand Ch.10

The journey to Sabaody seemed to take twice as long as it actually had. For the two day sail he had stayed in his room, watching over her. She had developed a fever and her body trembled in his bed. Twice daily he sat her head in his lap while he tried to get her to swallow down the tea Maverick had made to help keep her alive. It was nothing but herbs that they had on hand but it was something. Not having a choice he had removed her clothing but kept her covered with his blankets and sheets to help hide her nudity. She looked so tiny and frail in his large bed, her skin flushed of color and a cold sweat covering her brow.

 He had been dabbing her bruised face with a wet rag when Daz had spoke outside his door, telling him they were at the Archipelago. Tossing the rag aside he put on his boots and hook. Walking over to the bed he made sure she was wrapped up tightly before lifting her into his arms again, her head lolling back like a rag doll until he adjusted her. His back was stiff from having slept in his chair for the past two days but he ignored it. Holding her in one arm he grabbed the corner of the blanket and covered her face from view. Walking to the door it was opened for him and he looked towards the Mangrove forest and silently prayed there would be a doctor there that would be able to help his soulmate.

...................................

He paced the hall outside of the room, the floorboards soon to have a permanent track in them. Lighting what had to be his fifth or sixth cigar he shoved the lighter back in his pocket before lifting his hand to rub his face, brushing back his hair. Another loud scream made every muscle in his body tense and his teeth bite down on the butt of the rolled tobacco in his mouth. Daz was there, sitting in a chair with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes closed. As her agonizing sob rung through the halls he growled and snapped his eyes to the door. Just what were the doing to her?! Moving to take one step towards the door he heard Daz speak.

"If you interrupt them it will only make her pain last longer."

Freezing he snapped his eyes to the man, a deep frown on his face but he saw his eyes still closed. Looking back towards the door he sighed and stood back straight before walking over and sitting in the chair beside Daz. Crossing his legs and arms he puffed on his cigar and sighed. "Why are you here?" he asked. The rest of the crew had went along to do their own things but his second had willingly come with him. "You don't have to be."

"I care for her well being. Once I know she is stable I will leave." Daz answered honestly.

Knitting his brows he looked to the man and saw him open one eye to meet his stare.

"I was questionable when you first showed up with her but she quickly grew on me. Y/n is a kind woman, too kind to be around people like us but one can not help who they are destined to be with."

Breathing out a lung full of smoke he let the man's words sink in. "Have you found your soulmate?"

Sighing he closed his eyes once again. "Yes. We grew up together and married young."

"You never asked for leave to go visit her..." he said, furrowing his brows.

"Because she is no longer living... She passed in childbirth, along with my son."

Blinking he watched the man's face remain as stoic as ever and felt his brow twitch the slightest amount. "My condolences." he said in a low voice. Seeing him nod he turned his head back to stare at the door. A few more hours went by before the door to the room opened. He watched as two nurses walked out pushing a cart with bloody equipment on it, a shiver running down his spine before he saw the doctor stand in the door and look to him. Tapping out his cigar he stood and walked over to meet the man, trying to peek inside the room but only managing to see the end of the bed. Looking down at the older man he saw his face tired.

"I don't know what happened to her and I don't care to but I will say this, if you hadn't gotten her here when you did she wouldn't have made it another night. Along with multiple deep cuts and bruises she has at least four broken ribs. Her body is littered with welts, the bottom of her feet were embedded with glass as well as a few larger pieces in her thigh and calf. She has a concussion and was shot in the right shoulder. The bullet shattered when it hit her shoulder blade but we were able to get all the pieces out. We have her on some medicine to help with pain and infection and we will monitor her to make sure her fever goes down. She is doing better, she will need time to heal and she will need to take it easy for a few weeks but you should be able to move her in a day or so."

Nodding his head he glanced to the room again.

Understanding he opened the door and stepped out of the way. "If you need anything let one of the nurses know." was all he said before he left.

Shutting the door behind him he turned towards the bed and slowly walked forward. Standing over her he looked down at her small bandaged body and frowned. The sheet was pulled up to the top of her breasts but he could tell her entire upper half was wrapped in bandages along with little ones on her cheek and jaw. Her breathing was steady now and she didn't look like she was knocking on death's door. Although dark circles did surround both of her eyes, blending in with the bruises. They had been separated a total of five days and he had been told by Maverick that even days prior she hadn't eaten. More than a week she had been without a proper meal, her slightly hollowed cheeks told him she was becoming malnourished. When she woke up he would get her anything she wanted, he didn't care what it was as long as she ate something. Lifting his hand to her cheek he brushed his fingers over her skin, trailing his hand down her neck and over her collarbone. He wanted to see her soulmate mark again, wanted to stare at the proof that they belonged to one another but he wouldn't disturb her. She needed her rest and as much as he wished to stay awake he hadn't slept much since all this happened either. Glancing to the lounge chair he let out a sigh, his back would be ruined when this was all said and done. Tugging the sheet up to her chin he removed his coat and walked over to the thing, pulling it towards the bed a little more so he would be able to hear if her breathing changed at all. Getting as comfortable as he could he looked to her, staring at her until his eyes finally slipped close.

....................................

Were you dead? No there wasn't supposed to be pain when you died, well not unless you went to hell... Voices... they sounded familiar. Fluttering your eyes open you blinked a few times, the light in the room making you wince a little. Your head hurt. Looking up at the wooden ceiling you glanced to your left to see a window and a chair with a familiar fur coat laying in it. Furrowing your brows you brought your right hand up to your face, noticing how heavy the limb felt . Rubbing your eyes you pulled it away and looked to see your wrist and knuckles wrapped in bandages. Looking down your arm you saw more bandages here and there. Finding a IV line stuck in your arm you furrowed your brows and took another look around the room. It was a medium sized room with white plaster walls and wooden floors to match the ceiling. Other than the bed and chair there wasn't else in the room, a small table between he two. One of the two doors were closed, the voices coming from behind it. The other one you tilted your head and saw it was a bathroom. Licking your dry lips you tried to get some kind of moisture into your mouth but there wasn't much to be found. Lifting your head to look down you saw you were covered by a white sheet, lifting it you saw you were naked, other than the bandages. Blushing you looked again to the fur coat, then the door and knit your brows. Was he here? Why was he here?

Biting your lip, you painfully moved to sit up in bed, feeling like your chest and head were getting hit with a bat. Thankfully your bandages covered your chest completely. Slowly turning to drop your legs over the side of the bed you just sat there for a few seconds. Your feet were wrapped up as well making your huff, you felt like a damn mummy. Pulling the IV from your arm you stuck the needle back in the line. Holding the sheet you eased from the bed, breathing heavily when a sharp pain struck the soles of your feet. Your hands shook and your fingers gripped the bed so hard your knuckles were white. Taking a deep breath you pushed your foot forward attempting to take a step towards the bathroom and almost loosing your footing. Closing your eyes you kept going, holding the sheet around you. When you were close enough to grab the door frame you heard the other door open and then a woman gasp.

"No, No miss you can't be out of bed yet!"

Hearing the nurse's frantic words he stopped mid sentence and snapped his eyes towards the room y/n was in. Pushing the door open he saw as the nurse ran over to a stumbling y/n. He didn't even know she was awake. Taking a step closer he saw y/n quickly slam the door to the bathroom close.

Quickly locking the door you heard as the nurse tried the knob and then knocked. Leaning back against the door you closed your eyes and tried to even out your breathing.

"Miss you really shouldn't be in there alone, you could fall..."

Glancing sideways to the mirror over the sink you grimaced at the state of yourself. Your hair was mated with what looked like blood... you looked like death. Pushing off the door you reached over to turn on the shower and dropped the sheet.

"If you would like a bath I can help yo..."

"I am more than capable of bathing myself." you told the woman. Moving your hands to start unraveling the bandages you froze when you heard a deep voice speak.

"Y/n open the door so she can help you." he said in a low voice.

"I can do it myself." Dropping the bloody bandages to the bin you swallowed hard, the sound of his voice making your heart ache. You didn't understand why he was here.

Sighing he looked to the nurse and tilted his head to the door, telling her to go. Once she was gone and the door to the room was shut he leaned against the door that his soulmate was behind. When he heard a muffled cry he tried the knob. "Y/n..."

"Go away." you whimpered, trembling as you held onto the shower wall. Turning under the water some to wet your hair you watched the water turn a murky red. When you heard a thump and then a sliding you knew he was sitting on the other side of the door and felt tears brim your eyes. "Why did you come back for me? Why..why didn't you just let me die?" you asked, feeling your lip tremble and tears roll down your cheeks.

Closing his eyes he let out a deep breath, resting his arms on his knees and dropping his head. He had been thinking about what he would say when she woke, what he would say when he saw her again. He had never been good with emotions, he never cared about anyone enough to express the way he felt... until now. Looking down at his hook he licked his lips, "You know about this world, more than I know and probably ever will but there is one thing I do not think was in your books... The tattoo you saw on my hip, it's not really a tattoo. I have had it since the day I was born, everyone born in this world has one, they are all different, different placements, colors, shapes, sizes, every one is unique. They have many names, some call them bonding marks, others soulmate marks but their purpose is the same, a clue to who ones soulmate is." when he heard nothing he lifted her locket from his pocket and opened it, watching as the arrow spun around before pointing behind him, towards the woman currently taking a shower. Reading over the words he felt a small tug at his lips. "You are my soulmate y/n..."

You didn't say a word as he went about explaining everything to you. He told you about the night he was sent to your world, he told you about the witch who he now knew to be fate and how she had intervened when you were about to take your own life (Something you had never told him yourself). Hearing him mention the pull he felt towards you you closed your eyes, having felt the same thing but thinking it was all in your head. When he told you about how you were from this world, how you had been sent here through a mirror like the one in your dreams you closed your eyes tight.

"I know none of this sounds real y/n and I know I have done nothing to show you my words are true but I believe you know the truth. You know you never belonged there, you felt it. You told me that you were drawn to the one piece books that my world always called to you and that's because this is your home. I am..." Lifting his chin he closed his eyes, "I am your home."

Having moved to lean back against the shower wall you bit your shaking lip. "Y..you don't want me...I'm a burden, pathetic...."

She was crying, her voice soft and shaky. He had never seen her cry, not when she got hurt or even when he yelled at her but hearing her now he knew how much his words had wounded her and it made him feel horrible. It wasn't even like she was just repeating his words, reminding him of what he had said. It was like she was stating obvious facts, like she truly believed all of that. Clenching his teeth he swallowed down the knot in his throat. "No. You are wrong y/n. I never meant any of that, I was angry, I was trying to deny my feelings towards you. I searched for my soulmate for many years y/n and I am not ashamed to say I gave up hope. I'm almost forty five years old. Most find their destined love in their twenties, I thought my time was over but then I met you." Smiling he laid his head back against the door. "You, some woman I had never met took me in and you were so kind, even knowing all of my sins, you never said an ill word to me, you didn't even ask for anything in return. You make me happy and you make me smile and laugh and feel things that I had given up hope of ever feeling and..." Tightening his fist he closed his eyes. "... and I apologize for the way I treated you and the things I said to you. I was cruel to you and you didn't do anything to deserve it. When you said you didn't have a tattoo I lost all hope and I became angry. I thought if I avoided you and pushed you away then I wouldn't fall for you, that I wouldn't fall for someone that wasn't my soulmate."

"Son of a bitch.." you hissed through clenched teeth

Feeling his lip twitch he looked down, "Well I can not say I blame you for calling me names..."

"What? No...No I wasn't calling your that I got soap in my wounds." you told him, wincing and trying to quickly rinse the soap from your body. Choosing to bite you lip to keep anymore bad words from flowing out.

Tilting his head towards the door he rose a brow, "Are you sure you wouldn't like some help form the nurse? I mean I am paying for their services."

Looking down and frowning you blinked, "I... I'll find a way to pay you back..." you said in a soft voice, feeling guilty now.

Dropping his brows he pinched the bridge of his nose, "I didn't mean it like that." he grumbled. She wouldn't be here in the first place if he hadn't said what he had. She had gotten hurt because of him, even when he had gave her his word that he wouldn't let anything happen to her. Seeing how her hands had been tied and her shirt and bra had been ripped open it didn't take a genius to put together what that man had tried to do to her. The thought alone made his blood boil. How he wished he had had the time to make him suffer, he would have enjoyed listening to him scream... No she owed him nothing. He knew there was no point in telling her that though, she was caught on the idea that she didn't deserve things being done for her, that she didn't deserve the kindness she gave him to be returned. She had spent way more money on him with food, clothes and everything else she had bought him than he had her. It was something he was determined to change. She was his, his destined one and as such he would care for her, no matter how difficult she made it. After all her mother had asked him to do as much.

Rinsing off completely you sighed and grabbed the handle to turn off the water. Although you felt much better after washing and having a quick shave your body was still injured and your heart although not feeling shattered was still tender. Crocodile had never lied to you, at least not to your knowledge and so you believed what he said. You felt the pulling and strong connection he had told you was apart of the whole soulmate thing and he was right you had never felt like you belonged to your own world. It was a lot to take in though and you didn't know how much more you could take today. You were so tired, wither it be because of your injuries or the words he had spoken... probably a good mixture. Seeing a comb on the counter you picked it up and started taming your wet hair, deciding to leave it down to help hide your beaten face. Glancing up into the mirror you looked at your reflection and furrowed your brows. Your face wasn't swollen at least, a purplish stain along your cheek, under your eye and along your jaw that faded into a greenish yellow. There was even a healing cut along your cheekbone where that guy had kicked you. Your lip was busted as well. Looking down at your body you swallowed hard, some sight you were, he was likely to regret being linked to you once he saw you. How were you ever supposed to be enough for the warlord, Sir Crocodile?

The water had cut off some time ago and although he had heard her moving around quietly she had said nothing. "Y/n..." he said in a low voice and heard a dull hum. "Are you finished bathing?"

Dropping your eyes form the mirror you looked down at your feet. "Yes." There was a noise from the other side of the door before you heard his footsteps moving away from the door. Licking your lips when you heard him call for the nurse you took a deep breath as her soft knock sounded on the door. Reaching over you unlocked it.

..................................

Sitting in the waiting chair in the hall he sat patiently until the nurse finally opened the door.

"She is decent sir. I asked if she wanted to eat but she didn't respond. She really needs to eat to recover properly. Is there anything you think she might like, she can only have broths and such right now. "

Standing he sighed and looked down at her, "Bring her something and I will make sure she eats it." he told the woman and saw her bow her head a little before walking down the hall. Opening the door he saw her laying in bed, her back to him as she looked out the window. She was dressed in the gown the small hospital provided but he could still tell she had bandages wrapped around her. The sheet was pulled up to her waist, covering her legs from view but he could tell they were pulled up to her some. Her damp red hair fell around her to the bed, now clean from all the blood and dirt. Closing the door he slowly walked over to her, her lidded eyes stayed focused on the window, exhaustion clear on her face. Rounding the bed to take a seat in the chair he glanced to the IV line and saw they had put her back on her medicine again, her left arm now laid beside her with the line disappearing into the nook of her arm and taped down. "You take that out again and they will have to put it in your wrist or hand, it is much more painful." he told her, her eyes looking to him.

"Where are we?"

"Sabaody." he said and saw her raise her brows some. "I take it you have heard of it?"

"Yes. Since you want to go to the New World I am taking it you are here for coating?" when he hummed and gave a small nod you sighed. "You do know that 70% of all ships that are coated don't make it to Fish-man Island, the bubble pops and the ship is crushed by the pressure of the sea."

Tilting his jaw he hummed. "I don't suppose you know of a specialist?"

"I do but I don't know if he's here right now." you said.

"And who might he be?"

"Silvers Rayleigh, Gol D Roger's first mate. He's an expert in coating, he's the one that does it for Luffy."

"You said he may not be here right now, why?"

"Well I know sometime during the two year time skip he finds Luffy on some island and teaches him Haki. If he is still here though you will find him at his wife's bar, Shakky's Rip-Off Bar. Make sure you make a good impression otherwise he won't do it for you, no matter how much money you offer to pay him." you said.

Thinking on her words he looked down in thought but shot his eyes back up when he heard her moving. Seeing her try and move to lay on her back he furrowed his brows at the pained look on her face that she was trying to turn away from him. Standing he stepped over to her, "Lay still or your ribs will never heal right." he told her in a deep voice. Turning his hook away form her he pushed his hand under her upper half and his hook under the sheet and under her knees. Lifting her with ease he helped move her to her back, grabbing the pillow on the end of the bed and stuffing it behind her to help her sit up. Once she was situated he saw the sheet was revealing the top of her thigh, a large bandage wrapped around the area where some bigger pieces of glass had been. Pulling the sheet back over her he moved to sit on the bed by her legs. Glancing up he saw her eyes were focused on her hands as she tried to straighten out the IV line. Untangling it and laying it out of the way as much as possible he took her small hand in his huge one, noticing that the nurse had left her knuckles and and wrists un-bandaged. Frowning at the sight of where the rope had rubbed her skin raw he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. "I failed to protect you, both from others and myself but perhaps you could find it in your heart to offer me a second chance." he said in a low, deep voice. "You will never want for anything, I'll take care of your every need..."

Keeping your eyes down you looked at his hand holding yours. It was so warm and big. His fingers were calloused a bit, contrasting with the smooth metal of his rings. Those ring, those expensive rings that reminded you of how plain you were yourself. What could he possibly see in you? You thought and swallowed hard, "You can have anyone you want, why would you want me?"

Furrowing his brows he gently lifted her chin with the curve of his hook, forcing her eyes to meet his. "There is no one like you my dear. I have been searching my whole life for you darling, for my soulmate.... I was not disappointed by what I found." he told her with a grin and saw her sea blue eyes look up to him, a small bit of shock in her beautiful orbs. Flickering his eyes to her lips he felt a warming in his chest and leaned down before finally claiming her lips.

Stiffening when his lips pushed themselves to yours you felt his hand move from yours to gently grab your hip while his hook stayed under your jaw, keeping you in the position he wanted. Soon you felt your eyes close and your body relaxing as much as possible with your injuries.

Restraining himself from snatching her into his arms he held her hip in a gentle grip. Her lips were so soft, even if he could feel were her lips was busted at. He wanted more, so much more but he couldn't right now. Hearing a small knock at the door he ended the kiss just as the nurse opened the door. "Time to eat."

Looking up at him you glanced to the nurse bringing over the tray and then back to him. Opening your mouth and giving a small shake of your head you saw him look down at you with a firm look that told you you had no choice in the matter.

[bean-pole-art]

Ed’s Borderlands Fics Masterpost

well finally

here is the masterpost of all of my Borderlands fics posted. most of them are Rhysothy focused to various AUs. I’m gonna update it as I post more but here it is, along with some of my commentary

right from the start big big BIG shoutout to @spoks-illogical-art​, my partner in crime, my biggest inspo, without them honestly most of these fics wouldn’t exist, please check out their amazing art <3

(latest edit - 21/02/2021)

Atlas AU - our main timeline, follows events of Moxxi’s Heist. lots of different concepts and ideas but the core really is Tim moving to Promethea to get help from Rhys. gonna sort em here with posting date, check the ao3 series for the “timeline”

Hypothetically - 2240 words summary: Rhys talks a lot, but usually thinks about it too little.

coffee, cats & monographs - 2880 words summary: “Hey hey, easy. You don’t want to repeat the accident from last week, do you?” Rhys cooed towards the cat and picked her up, just as Timothy instructed him to. Hearing these words, Felicity meowed. “Oh, don’t say that. This is my office and I have the power here,” he answered, carrying her back to his personal space.

Or Timothy's cat pays a visit to Rhys' office in the morning. note: I am a stupid mofo and at this point Tim would also have Loader Bot fkjbfd just imagine hes not mentioned cause hes wandering off, typical LB

Have Faith - 1470 words summary: During the 7 year lockdown at the Handsome Jackpot, Timothy couldn't really have any hope for himself. But maybe on Promethea it could be different. note: sudden feelings while watching JoltzDude139′s stream

Warm Cheeks, Cold Hands - 1170 words summary: Rhys comes home early and wants to say hi to his husband. With no ulterior motive. None at all. note: first fic Ive ever posted where characters are married, actually. fuck it, Rhysothy Real, his name is Rhys Lawrence

the battle (and the aftermath) of the ages - 2970 words summary: In a situation like this everything was possible, they could pull any punches they could think of. Four beasts playing against each other, every single one of them thinking of striking the winning blow.

Or Promethea Squad plays UNO. And then watches a movie. note: I love Promethea Squad with my whole heart

okurimono (贈り物) - 4/4, 17170 words summary: “Not a bomb. Just a device with a message for Rhys. Trust me on that,” this time an emoji of both winking and showing off a tongue [;P] appeared on the surface of Zer0’s helmet. Ah. So they were definitely trying to mess him up. In a way. Unfortunately, he really didn’t have any other options. Almost with a defeat, Timothy took the ECHOrecorder right from their hands and looked around it again. Or Zer0 gives Timothy a peculiar mission. note: my first ever multichapter fic. took me legit abt 8 months to finish but I am absolutely satisfied with this. also the bonus ending. yes

(there is) something I see in you - 8690 words summary: How one Rhys Strongfork met one Timothy Lawrence and how they fell for each other. More or less. note: best to go into this one blind, I swear. dumbest fic Ive ever written and please take this as a recommendation

this world is gonna pull through - 14380 words summary: Timothy really hoped it wasn’t anything important. He had that tendency to forget things easily, even if he tried to fight it. But Rhys kept on smiling and went by his side. So it couldn’t have been that bad. Still dumbfounded, he felt Rhys leaving a kiss right on his cheek.“November 11th? 

That- That seriously doesn’t ring any bells?” Rhys continued, brushing his hands against his shoulders. Or how Timothy spent one of his birthdays. note: also a love letter for Tim but a nicer one I guess kdjfnb dont ask how old is he i have no gdamn idea man

Strawberry Sweet - 3560 words summary: Rhys surprises Timothy with a gift for their date night in.

Happy Mercenary Day, Mr. Lawrence - 4670 words summary: How Timothy spent his first Mercenary Day on Promethea. note: I swear this is the best writer night Ive ever had. Ive written this whole thing in one night on Christmas day, solely on the inspo of that song I linked

Don’t Go Wasting Your Emotion - 4/4, 17080 words summary:  Afterwards, he went around with his usual duties. Getting a quick roundabout from his PA, checking several sectors himself and looking through the thousands of messages already sent to him via ECHOs. Rhys was ready to finally take on the day, yet when he made his way to the office, he saw the unusual envelope right by the edge of his desk. “For Rhys” was written on it. Straightforward enough. Or Rhys gets a letter from a secret admirer. note: another multichapter fic!! this one also took some time and well. its inspired by ABBA songs. cause only I would write a Rhysothy fic inspired by ABBA

Ratchet Effect - 7130 words summary: Knowing just how much overworked Rhys has been, Timothy wants to let them have a nice getaway in Lazy River Land. There's only one problem to overcome - ratch infestation. note: first fic of 2021!! Ive been playing a lot of bl3 suring the writing of it so it has a lot of stuff I had observed both on Promethea and on Jackpot

Reflections - 2250 words summary: Sometimes, Timothy needs a reminder.

Tales AU - second most important timeline. it’s Tales but Tim is a part of the group. sorted chronologically

A Story For Another Day - ongoing, for now -  2/25, 15280 words Tales AU main fic. it’s gonna be a big one

Connection Interrupted - 3240 words summary: With his driving shift finished, Timothy checks up on Rhys and Vaughn's plans.

Completely Hopeless - 1040 words summary: In which Fiona notices that Rhys behaves differently in front of a certain doppelganger.

infinity times infinity times infinity - 3460 words summary: Rhys and Timothy share some dreams and secrets underneath the stars. note: the beautiful combination of Sleeping At Last and Minecraft parodies. I promise it makes sense

reality can be whatever I want - 11420 words summary: “Hey, Tim?” Timothy didn’t even spare him a look, “Are we alone, or is he there with you?” Oh, this definitely won’t be pretty.

After the confession of Handsome Jack's AI in his head and his plan to infiltrate Helios, Rhys needs to set things right with Timothy. Somehow. note: thanosdancing.gif to Backstreet Boys’ “I Want It That Way” 80′s remix and a guest appearance from Ferocity but I cant legally say her name here

still here - 2820 words summary: It all had to go down, after Helios crashed. note: I have...a love/hate relationship with this one kjdfbfg I like it but it’s honestly an alternate ending and doesnt fit within our usual bad ending, so take it with a grain of salt. i ten jebany błąd językowy w summary, kiedy ja go poprawię

together at last - 5590 words summary: It all struck him down in an instant, in this one minute. They were all safe. And they were all alive. Nothing was threatening neither him, nor Timothy, nor Fiona. He could finally breathe out.

They all found each other again. note: I am multitasking most time of my life but I dont relate any other fic to multitasking more than this one. I was honestly doing 10 things at once while writing this dfkjbndf

David AU - this one is a sub AU to Tales AU and the plot is kind of complicated dfjkbfb please check the fic for further explanation

building in curved lines - 22490 words summary: “To be fair, you look terrible. You’re barely standing in one piece and none of your coffees will hold you together for that long,” Lilith paused, seemingly weighing the correct words in her head. “You haven’t really been holding on since… We rescued The Double.” Rhys sighed heavily. Why did she have to be so right about everything. Or how Rhys and Timothy adjust to the reality after the Handsome Jack AI. note: bday gift for Spok, EASILY one of my absolute faves and the longest fic Ive written thus far

outside of AUs - some concepts I play with that are honestly outside any of our concrete timelines/concepts + fics not focused on Rhysothy

Real - 770 words summary: Reconciling with your past is a little easier, when you have someone you love right in your arms. note: first blands fic I’ve ever written. the characterization isn’t really there yet but as a first shot at the game and my kind of “introduction”, I am still satisfied of it

(Un)Familiar Faces - 9620 words summary: Timothy pursed his lips and leaned over the wall a little. He’s had enough of this solitude of closed doppelganger cabinet. Today wasn’t the day for another self-loathing session. Today, he should go off on Helios and do something for himself.

Or Timothy spends the night at a Helios bar. But not as Handsome Jack. And not as Timothy Lawrence either. note: personal favorite of mine, tough love letter to Timothy Lawrence. I have so many fond memories of writing this, including getting drunk out of my mind just like Tim and Rhys here

basics of survival - 2010 words summary: Athena taught Timothy everything he needed to know about survival. Now, it was time to put these skills into use. note: wrote this right before rona outbreak on last day in my dorms. thats all

[gaveherhearttotheliontattoo]

Title: Wrong Winchester Turned Right (Part IX)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Female)

Word Count: 2474

Warnings: Very brief mention of self-harm

Prompt: So not really a prompt, I was on Pinterest and I looked up fanfiction prompts and this popped up from a user who I can’t find the account of… Anyways reader jumps on the back of who she thought was her best friend in public but ends up quickly realizing her mistake.

Note: Holy moly has this been a long time coming! I hope y’all enjoy it, a lot of work went into this with the assistance of a beta reader. I’m not caught up on Season 13 yet so that’s why it’s not keeping up with the show. Hope you enjoy.

(Read Part I Here, Part II Here, Part III Here, Part IV Here, Part V Here, Part VI Here, Part VII Here, Part VIII Here)

--

“She’s still in her room,” JoAnn had said the minute she opened the door.

“Sam, can you stay with JoAnn while I go check in with Allison?”

After Sam led JoAnn towards the living room you found your way up the stairs and to the only closed door. You knocked but heard nothing. You tried the door handle and it turned slowly in your grip. As you pushed the door open you took in the view. The sun crept through the closed blinds, offering the only form of light in the dark room. You saw a shape on the bed and realized JoAnn might have overreacted. Perhaps Allison hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep and was knocked out cold. You pulled your phone out, turning the flashlight on to get a better look around.

You walked around the room and everything seemed in place. No clothes on the floor, no crooked papers, not even a single strand of hair in the brush. You kept turning until you got near the bed but you straightened when you saw the shape was no longer laying there. You moved towards the door, intending to escape, but the lights flicked on and the shape from the bed was standing in front of you in the shape of Allison Waters. Her eyes looked hollow and dark, her skin pale. She reminded you of-

“Well, well, aren’t you pretty. She’d like you.”

“Who would?” Your skin was crawling. Allison just continued to stare at you. “Allison, can you tell me what happened?”

Allison turned and left her room. What had just happened? Where was Allison going? Shaking yourself of those thoughts you followed Allison. You watched her walk out the back door towards the woods. You stopped at the edge of the woods. Your dream came back to you, and so did your past.

“(Y/N)!” You turned and found Sam running towards you. “What happened? Why are you out here?”

“Allison’s gone, she walked out in the woods. She looked sick.” You glanced back at the woods and then started walking back to the house with Sam. “Sam, remember how I said something about this case feels familiar and you basically shot me down?” Sam opened his mouth to interrupt but you held up your hand. “This isn’t an ‘I told you so’ moment but the way Allison looked, there was something about her appearance that struck me as something I’ve seen before.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t want to talk about it here. Let’s go talk with JoAnn and then head back to the motel.”

“Are you okay?”

“Sam, just, not now.”

------

Twenty minutes later Dean found you curled up on the bed facing the wall. He sat across from Sam who was scrolling through his computer.

“What happened?”

“We might have a lead but she’s been off since she watched Allison walk into the woods.” Sam closed his laptop. “She told me about her dream and everything that happened this morning. Nice bruise by the way.”

“She’s tough.” Dean pushed himself up and sat down behind you on the bed. “(Y/N), will you talk to me? What’s wrong?”

“(Y/S/N).”

Sam jumped up and moved to the other side of the bed kneeling in front of you. “What did you say?”

You looked at Sam, recognition flashed through his eyes. “She looked just like (Y/S/N). Sam it was like reliving the past.”

“What are you talking about?” Dean looked between you and Sam.

“(Y/S/N)-”

“(Y/S/N) was my sister.” You sat up and pulled your knees to your chest. “She was sixteen when she disappeared. I was only twelve but I knew what was going on. She was gone for a week and when she came back she wasn’t (Y/S/N) anymore. She hid in her room, stayed quiet, would disappear for hours before coming home and hiding in her room again. She was my big sister so I tried to spend time with her but she ignored me.

“One day I came home from school and found the house open, dark, and quiet. I don’t know what made me do it but I walked through the house. There wasn’t anything out of place so I thought someone just forgot to shut the door all the way but then I heard muffled crying coming from my parents’ room. I pushed the door open and found my sister standing over my father and my mother cradling his head in her lap. As my sister turned to look at my intrusion her eyes were dark and her mouth was covered in blood.”

You took a deep breath as the images of your father laying on the floor covered in blood and your mother crying over his lifeless body resurfaced. As you fought the tears you hugged your knees tighter and dropped your chin. You looked between the brothers and your heart constricted. The look of pain in their eyes nearly made you stop but you knew this was important to resolving this case.

“She killed him and then she used this extra long finger nail to slice my mother’s throat. I should have run but as I watched her kill our mother I snapped. I grabbed the item closest to me, which happened to be the candlesticks my parents got when they got married. When I hit my sister with it she hissed.” You laughed and shook your head. “She actually hissed. When she wrapped her hand around it to take it away she screamed and pulled her hand away, it was burned. I had no idea what the candlestick was made of. I had guessed steel or iron so I hit her again with it and ran. I went to the kitchen and grabbed whatever knife I thought I could use.”

“It’s like you were born to be a hunter,” Dean said.

You turned your eyes on him. “I never wanted this. I had no choice.”

“Sweetheart, none of us choose this life.” Dean chalked this up to just another thing the two of you had in common.

“I killed her.” You paused. “I killed my sister and then my mother because my sister turned her into whatever she was. I took off, ended up with Jody Mills, until I was eighteen. I tried to avoid the hunting scene but I couldn’t do it. For years I tried to find the bitch who turned my sister but I never could. I have a fear we’ve just found another one of her victims.”

“You never said how you came across Sam?”

“Jody.” You ruffled Sam’s long hair, smiling when he frowned. “Jody called me after everything happened with her family and she found the two of you. Somewhere down the road, when the two of you took your break, she connected us.”

“Do you know what this creature is?”

“I had initially given up but after meeting Sam I decided to pick up the research again. We thought it was a vampire, that’s where I got stuck initially, but it’s not. It’s like this cousin to the vampire, a Baobhan Sith. It’s a Scottish Folklore. Supposedly they only come out once a year to feed and only at night but I haven’t heard about anything that resembles her antics since everything happened with my sister. Well, until now that is.”

“What else do we know about this thing.”

“Men find the woman to be very attractive and she keeps them interested by asking them to dance. After that she goes for the kill. She kills women too but when she does that they become one. She prefers hunters. I’m sure that means animal hunters not us but it’s true. I didn’t see the beauty, but maybe that’s because I’m a woman. Finally, we can kill them with iron.”

“Great,” Dean said, happy to finally be getting some sort of lead. “What’s next?”

“I use myself as bait to lure her out.” 

Dean jumped up and glared at you. “Are you crazy?” Recognizing those weren’t the best choice of words he crossed his arms and looked at Sam, then you. “There is no way we can let you do that. You could get yourself killed!”

“I already talked to Sam about it, and besides it is neither of your choice to make.” You swung your legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Sam stood up, stuffing his hands in his pockets. You looked between the brothers. “This is my fight and I’ll do it with or without your support.”

You walked out of the motel. There was a park only a few minutes down the road and you figured you could find a comfortable place to think without the sulking Winchester Brothers around. Who were they to tell you what you could or couldn’t do with your life? This was your battle. You were the only one of the three with a real connection to this case.

When you got to the park you took a seat on a bench and pulled out your phone. It hadn’t stopped buzzing since you walked out of the motel room. You shut it down and surveyed your surroundings. You saw kids being pushed on the swings, the giggles filled the air around you. You watched parents running with their kids, holding their infants close. The world kept turning. None of them knew of the monsters lurking in the shadows, the monsters hiding in the forests, and you wish you didn’t know either.

------

Dean tossed his phone at the wall, turning as it shattered. What did he need it for, it’s not like you were actually going to answer his calls.

“That was stupid,” Sam mutters.

Dean turns to him, arms crossed over his chest. “No this plan is stupid!” Dean raked his fingers through his hair. If he pulled any harder he would be bald before he went to bed. “I’m going out there.”

Sam stepped in front of the door, using what little extra height he had to try and intimidate Dean. “And doing what?”

“I can’t just let her go out there alone. Jesus, Sammy, she’s… I… She means a lot to me. If anything happens to her I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself, ever.”

“Go get her, tell her we support her, but that we want to work this out first before anyone does anything rash.” Sam stepped away from the door. “Then maybe when we kill this thing you two can stop dancing around each other.”

Dean shrugged his jacket on, pocketed his wallet, and snatched his keys off the end table. Shit. “I shattered my phone, she turned hers off, how am I supposed to find her?”

“Look for the nearest park first.”

Dean didn’t bother asking why, instead he left the motel, hoping he wasn’t too late. He’d told you he liked you but he was falling fast and deep. You’d only known each other for a couple of weeks but it didn’t seem to stop him from hoping for more, a lot more.

------

You kicked your legs out, back, out. The swing rose higher. But no matter how high you got  you always came back down, and right there was the forest. It was like it was calling to you every time you stared at it.

“If you swing any higher you’re going to fall on your head.”

You drag your feet through the gravel, stopping the swing. “How’d you find me?”

Dean dropped onto the swing next to you, twisting to look at you. “Sammy suggested the park.”

“Kid’s been around me too long.”

“If you’re going to do this-”

“There’s no if, Dean.”

“Would you just let me finish?” Dean stared at you, waiting for you to answer. After you gave a slight nod he continued. “If you’re going to do this, we’ll support you, but we’re going to do this as a team.”

You’d been prepared for a fight. They’d both been so upset when you left, but here Dean was, trusting you. Your heart fluttered and you resisted the urge to place a hand over it, instead reaching out for Dean’s hand. “This means a lot to me.”

Dean looked at your hand. The act had been so simple, yet intimate. His heart kicked up a notch and he wasn’t sure how to handle that response so he stood up, pulling you with him. “We should get back before Sammy starts to worry, but before we get back I need to make a pit stop for a burner.”

“What happened to your phone?”

“I may have gotten a little angry.”

“I was in a dark place, for a long time.” You hesitated. Glancing up you found Dean’s emerald eyes soft, welcoming. “When I couldn’t find the person responsible for all of this I started to blame myself so I turned to self-harm. One day Jody caught me struggling to bandage myself up, but rather than ask me questions and judge me she finished bandaging me up and gave me a hug. I started to see someone who knew the world and helped me start working through some stuff. I met Sam only after a few sessions and I thought I was okay, but researching again reopened the wound and I got in my head. Sam found me one night on the bathroom floor and took me to the hospital to get bandaged up. Sam made sure I went back to my therapist, but since all of this has started I haven’t been able to go see them. I could always call or text but it’s been busy.”

Dean stared at you. He’d always considered you tough, strong, but he found your resiliency even brighter now. His hands were reaching for you before he knew what he was doing. He pulled you into his arms and sighed as you wrapped your arms around him. Dean whispered, “You’re stronger than you know.”

You pulled back, putting your hands in his. “Thank you. Not something I like to bring attention to.”

Dean leaned forward and pressed his lips to your forehead. “Thank you for trusting me.”

Sighing, you held onto Dean’s hand as you walked to the closest store and picked up a new burner as well as a few snacks. You continued hand in hand to the motel room, Dean squeezing tight as you walked into the room and found Sammy scowling at his computer. 

“I’m going to lose my mind over this case. (Y/N), I need more information on this,” Sam paused and stared at the screen, “Baobhan Sith. Whatever else you can give me that you found in the past or remember because based off of what I’m finding, this creature shouldn’t be around for another 70 or so years.”

[nosferatvpussy]

distorted lullabies [chapter IV]

Word count: 4,113

Warnings: vulgar language

Pairing: Dracula x reader

AO3 link 

Author’s note:  Listen... I wrote this chapter this past week and I must say I'm not happy with it. My brain is mush due to work so that's all I could come up with. I wish I could've done better but I know if I delayed posting it I would never do it. Feedback would be greatly appreciated on this one (good or bad).

  “Oh my fucking God.”

My day had started out fine. I had woken up in a surprisingly good mood considering it was Monday and then I ruined it. 

With the exception of Count Dracula’s visit to my house, my weekend was pretty uneventful. Sunday was spent grocery shopping with Diana and reviewing cases to prepare myself for court sessions during the following week. Occupying myself with work was not only necessary but also served as a good distraction from the deal I had struck with the Count. 

Being arrogant had its advantages in my line of work but after proposing a deal to a vampire, I was starting to think how quickly that arrogance could turn into vanity and plain stupidity. A deal from which I had yet to glimpse a way out of? Could I outsmart a centuries old vampire and wiggle out of that deal? On Saturday night I was pretty sure I could. Now… Not so much.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I muttered, receiving ugly looks from people on the tube. 

My hand covered my mouth so I would stop cursing and to stop it from falling open.

Reconnaissance was part of any good lawyer’s job and that was what I had decided to do as my first course of action against Count Dracula. As soon as I had found a good spot to sit in the tube, I googled him by his title. All of the pages included the interesting moniker Vlad the Impaler followed by his actual name Vlad Dracula. That in itself was enough for a chill to run down my spine but each line I read managed to make it worse. 

He was born in the Middle Ages, more precisely in 1431, which put him somewhere over five hundred years old. So, I had made a deal with someone overly experienced in the matters of life, which wasn’t ideal but could be remedied. But then I was met with medieval drawings depicting him dining amongst a field of impaled people. One particular page had supposed accounts from Ottomans and Saxons describing the atrocities committed by him. Boiling people alive, nailing hats to people’s skulls so they wouldn’t take it off, setting beggars and thieves on fire to “cleanse” Wallachia were just some of his various lovely bedtime stories. Those tales had elicited my first string of curses, which yes evoked the name of God in a blasphemous way but at that point I didn’t care if I offended a higher power or not.

Not only was he abhorrently vile, he was smart. Smart enough to send people infected with the plague to infiltrate enemy camps, using them as biological warfare and weakening enemy numbers. Not many people would have thought of such a tactic in the Middle Ages. Apparently the sight of the impaled people put on display around the city Targoviste was so repulsive that the Ottoman Empire simply retreated. And albeit having half or sometimes a quarter of the army of his opponents, he still managed to win several battles because of his cunning. 

That was the part that made me curse several times as some sort of mantra. A ruthless and smart ruler that had been a monster long before he became a vampire, that was who I was up against. And he had five hundred years of practice under his belt. How nice for me. 

My body took control as my mind raced and I got off at Canary Wharf station, making my way to the overly modern glass plated building where I worked.

The Middle Ages were a long time ago and it was a notoriously dark and violent time. Desperate times call for desperate measures, one could say. It should serve as a logical explanation to make myself feel better but the cold sweat on the palms of my hands was an obvious sign that it wasn’t working. I resorted to my earbuds and played one of my favourite songs to try calm myself but I was barely paying any attention to it. The noise inside my head was far louder.

I willed my brain to catch up with my body once the elevator doors opened to the 17th floor. Work, now , I told myself. I could think about how to escape the Count’s grip later.  

Greeting my colleagues, I made my way to my desk at the far left of the office. We occupied half of the 17th floor while the other half was made up of a café and a small finance firm. Smelling croissants and fresh coffee, I placed my purse and briefcase on my chair and was already making a b-line for the café when Renfield peeked his head out of a meeting room and waved for me to join him. 

I threw my earbuds over my shoulders so the string could hang from around my neck and stuck my phone on my trousers' back pocket. Renfield promptly closed the door as soon as I stepped inside. He splayed his arms over the doorway, blocking it. Eyes with dilated pupils watched me from behind thick glasses. Frowning, I looked out through the blurred glass walls that outlined the meeting room we were standing on. If he was about to reprehend me for something I’d done then at least I wouldn’t have to deal with the embarrassment of the whole office witnessing it. 

Renfield had always been composed and taken great pride in his work and looks. For the past few days that stopped being true. Not only was he acting in a disturbing manner, he also appeared unwashed. His hair was greasy and a few strands stuck to his forehead. His suit had a stain on a lapel and he didn’t have a colourful handkerchief peeking out of his front pocket as he usually did. Overworked, I guessed, but never in all the years I knew him had I seen him this way. When I joined the firm as his intern, he let me write most of his opening and closing statements so I could learn and he would rehearse them on his office as I watched and explain why certain phrases should be changed to provide the necessary punch in court. He taught me the basics and all the clever little tricks one could use to dribble a prosecution. He was in the audience when I worked my first case alone in front of a judge. He was there when I won my first case and he took me out for a beer. And he was there when I lost for the first time and he took me out for whiskey. We still went out to celebrate whenever one of us won a case.

“Good morning, Y/N,” he rasped, barely sounding like himself. “Are the Mast-- the Count’s documents in your possession?”

The Master’s, that’s what he almost said. A little too late I remembered that Renfield was Dracula’s servant and automatically took a step back to put distance between us. The Count had arrived at London a week ago, which could explain my boss’ disheveled appearance. 

“They’re at my desk.”

He nodded and licked his lips in a way that made me think of a lizard. 

“And what did you think of him? Of Count Dracula?”

The lunatic gleam in Renfield’s eyes made my decision before I could think through it very much.

“He’s polite and handsome,” I said in the most neutral tone I could manage. “I’ll get the documents and bring them to you. Excuse me.”

I closed the distance between us with more confidence than I felt. Nudging Renfield’s shoulder to the side so he would make way, I tried to grab the doorknob and then he was on me. He pinned me against a glass wall before I had a chance to push him back and his hand yanked my shirt’s collar down, exposing my neck. 

“Ah! Ah!” he exclaimed loudly. “I knew it!”

I tried to fight him off, terrified of the crazed look on his bulging eyes, but he slammed me back on the glass. It trembled under my weight. 

“ Why … you ?” Spittle landed on my face as he spoke and I cringed. “Why would he bestow such a gift on you?!”

Understanding dawned on me and for a second I stopped trying to escape. He was infuriated because Count Dracula had bitten me and not him, like some sort of drug addict that had his vice taken away. 

“Let me go,” I said, summoning a calm semblance. “Ask him about it. It’s not like I offered him a drink.”

“No, not a drink. If he wanted just a drink he would have killed you. He’ll make you his bride. But I-- I have worked so hard, so so hard. I deserve it, I do, I do,” he was whimpering now and shaking his head to the sides like a child. 

“I know, I know,” I cooed but I had tears on my eyes. 

His hands wrapped around my neck and squeezed. My eyes instantly bugged out of my head and the tears flowed freely down my cheeks as I struggled. My hands found his face, trying to slap him or scratch him, anything that would get him off of me. I hit the glass wall with the back of my heel repeatedly to try to get someone’s attention outside. Air couldn’t reach my lungs anymore and my windpipe would probably collapse if he pressed harder. The pressure on my head was enormous. I could barely see and my face felt like it would explode at any second.

Several figures burst in the room. Two of them tried to pry Renfield off of me and the other three screamed for him to let me go. The crushing force on my neck ceased all of a sudden and I went down like a sack of potatoes, falling on my side as I gasped for air. 

“Master! Master!” Renfield howled, struggling against his captors. “I was good, I was good! MASTER!”

A hacking cough seized me as I tried to will air into my lungs but failed to do so in the speed I needed. Slowly my vision returned and I saw Henry and Mallory kneeling next to me, trying to get me to sit up. Renfield’s deafening screams filled my ears. 

“What happened?!” Mallory asked as Matthew, another colleague of mine, and a security guard tried to pin Renfield to the ground as he continued shouting.

“Not h-his fault,” I croaked, covering my neck with my hand. I would have a new bruise to match my bite now. 

Mallory and Henry started talking about what they should do while I found myself trapped in Renfield’s demented eyes. He wasn’t in there, not anymore. 

“A psychotic episode,” I whispered to Mallory. It hurt to talk. “Call medics, not the police. It’s not his fault.” Mallory and Henry exchanged a look and nodded.  

More people filed into the room to gawk at the scene. Several more people gathered around me, trying to be helpful to the point where they started to resemble vultures and not good samaritans. I allowed myself to be coddled by these people while my mind ran amok. 

My chest tightened as if the sorrow I felt hurt physically as well. The man I had looked up to as an outstanding lawyer, the man I inherited the poise and the commanding voice… was gone. Reduced to the likes of a mewling baby and a deranged man.

I hardly paid attention when paramedics arrived and took Renfield away but when a paramedic wanted to check my neck, I was pulled back to reality by the bond I had to Count Dracula. 

“No,” I told him, one hand securing my shirt’s collar to my neck so it was covered. “I’m fine, really.”

“Miss, please. By what your colleagues described he nearly choked you to death.” His hands hovered on the air around me as a second silent request to let him look at the bruise.

I shook my head vehemently but tears were welling in my eyes again. 

I wanted desperately to tell someone just then. To explain about Renfield and the bite on my neck that marked me as his . But I couldn’t. My voice wouldn’t leave my throat because that too had become his . Even if I was able to tell someone, I knew it wouldn’t be the right thing to do. Bitten by a vampire? Surely I would be thrown in the psychiatric ward as Renfield would.

“I can’t,” I said weakly before pushing him out of my way and running to the restroom. 

    London’s night lights kept me company as I worked overtime on the firm. After spending the rest of my day warding off preoccupied people, I decided that I would need to add extra hours of work. At home I would succumb to my bed’s embrace and wouldn’t get any work done. 

My desk lamp was the only source of light coming from inside the office and it illuminated the papers spread haphazardly in front of me. I had attended court earlier that day only to request an adjournment to Judge Llewellyn, who scowled and immediately demanded I explain myself. Matthew, my colleague, accompanied me to speak on my behalf since my voice box wasn’t strong enough yet to project my words to a courtroom. When Matthew explained the ordeal to Llewellyn I had the satisfaction of seeing the judge’s face dismantle in embarrassment for questioning me so harshly. It didn’t matter how much satisfaction it brought me because at the end of the day my case was delayed which impacted the life of a very dedicated mother who was disputing custody of her children with her ex. Catching up on cases and preparing future statements was my way of rectifying it.

I scribbled on a post-it and stuck it to a page before putting that pile to the side. I still had three more cases to review, draw up a plea bargain and think of a way to escape Count Dracula. I was procrastinating the latter.

The elevator opened with a ding on the other side of the floor and I raised my head to see who could it be at this time of night. A silhouette stepped out, standing in the darkness for only a moment before the hall’s motion activated lights came on. At once I sunk in my chair.

“Renfield... Where are you?” Count Dracula pitched his velvet voice in a mock song as he strolled in the office. 

My heartbeat shot up in response and I shrunk further, trusting the darkness to conceal me. He swiveled his head directly at me as if my fear had drawn him. The lights from the buildings outside only illuminated half of his face.

“Y/N,” he said. My name on his lips sent a shiver through my body. “Working in the dark, are we?” When no answer came from me, he clicked his tongue. “I can’t seem to get ahold of Renfield but I suppose you’ll do. My assets were supposed to have been released today. The bank said I need-” He had been strolling my way as he talked but he stopped abruptly, whiffing the air. “You’re scared. Of me?”

He resumed his pace slowly, almost dragging his steps. Just then, I truly understood the feeling of being stalked by a predator.

“Why… are you... scared?” 

He quickened his pace suddenly and covered over half the distance between us in seconds. I jumped from my seat and backed up as I searched frantically for a way out. The back of my knees hit a desk and I had to reach my hands back to stop me from toppling over it. I let out a squeak as I tried to regain my footing but it was too late. Dracula towered over me, so close I could smell his cologne. My face was turned away from him so I wouldn’t have to meet his eyes. I had a feeling that if I did he would devour me whole. 

“Tell me why,” a whisper. His breath smelled like copper. “I will not have you of all people cowering from me.”

“Renfield was committed to a psychiatric ward this morning,” I blurted. 

“Your voice,” he said.

Another squeak escaped my mouth as he grabbed my face and forced me to look at him. I expected to be met with a monstrous face but it was just him. Familiar dark eyes and lush lips. His stare fell from mine to my neck and he furrowed his eyebrows. His bite was well concealed under my shirt but the ligature mark was just beneath my jaw and in plain sight.

“He attacked me,” I provided in my frail voice. “Because you bit me.”

He pulled his lips down. Anger or disapproval, I wasn’t sure. 

“I see,” he muttered.

“Is that what will become of me?” I asked.

“I told you-- I would never make you a servant.”

“No. Will I become a monster like you? Will I be uncaring? Will I enslave people? Kill them, torture them?”

He squished my cheeks between his fingers with every word I spoke. Perhaps provoking him wasn't a smart choice but I wouldn't simply lower my head and accept my fate.

“Only if you wish," he replied.

“You won’t even try denying it?”

“If I did I would be a hypocrite. And you think you are without blame.”

“Me?! How am I to blame for anything?"

He loosened his grip on my face until he finally allowed his hand to rest on the side of my neck. 

“Yes, you. You the lawyer that defends robbers, murderers and rapists. And you know what’s interesting? I haven’t found much guilt about it in your blood. And now you accuse me of such things with disgust in your face? That, my dear, is a hypocrite.”

I swallowed his vitriol and it burned on the way down. Suddenly I didn’t like being provoked as much as I liked doing so. 

“You ruined Frank!” I blinked at using Renfield’s first name. “He went mental today! Never in his life--”

“He’s weak , always has been but you never saw it. One look. One look was what it took for him to practically kneel before me. You shouldn’t hold people like him in such high standards.”

“Doesn’t bloody matter, he’s my friend!" The threat of tears made my voice tremble and I caught hold of myself before they spilled. “I don’t suppose you understand what that means.”

The snarl on his face made me think he would kill me right there. 

“I should kill Renfield for what he did,” he murmured, stare searing into me. “But you wouldn’t like that.”

“Why does it matter what I like, Impaler?”

His brows softened as comprehension crossed his face and his lips parted in a grin.

“That is why you’re afraid, isn’t it? My darling, that was my human life, you have no need to worry.”

“And you’ve been an angel since then?”

“Oh never.”

I shifted uncomfortably. I was still supporting myself with my hands on the table behind me, slightly tipping backwards so the Count didn’t crawl on top of me. 

Did I see a monster when I looked at him? Quite honestly no, yet I knew I should. He had done horrible things and I only knew about the things history had kept record of. I had learnt over the years that people are complicated. I had never met one person that was fully good or bad. If I had to classify myself, I wouldn’t know. My entire job was one big gray area. I swiveled around the lines of good and bad, never fully committing to any of them because I was paid for it. That wasn’t to say I didn’t have my own moral compass outside of the law. Count Dracula however… I had yet to find out if he had any moral compass at all. 

“Will Renfield get better?” I questioned.

“He might. It’s difficult to predict how my power can affect some individuals, but he will remain my servant, that much I know. And he won’t attack you again, I’ll make sure of it.”

“Let him go.”

“I will not. He's quite good at being a servant.”

Renfield’s shouting replayed on my head.

“Let him go and I’ll let you feed from me whenever you want,” I said, shocking myself with my words. “But know this, I will never be yours.”

“Another deal? Tempting.” He licked his lips and my stomach coiled. “So very tempting.”

He reached to my waist, digging his fingers in my skin and I held back a gasp. 

“Take the deal,” I urged. 

Excitement grew within me. I preferred to believe that that was due to the possibility of tricking the Count into another deal but the tingling scar on my neck told a different story. I closed my eyes trying to concentrate and take full control of my body but it wasn’t responsive to rational thought. If he took the deal then it meant freedom for Renfield. That’s where my mind should be, not the rush of pleasure I had felt three nights ago when Count Dracula had bitten me. But by God, that’s what I wanted. I wanted to feel it again, feel his teeth sinking into my flesh and the dreamlike daze that followed. 

Dracula’s arm circled me and smashed my body to his in a single motion, causing the gasp I had been holding to escape my lips. His thumb caressed my jawline while his fingers teased the back of my neck. In the little light between us I saw his black eyes swimming in carmine red. My heartbeat quickened lower in me when his tongue snaked out once again to lick his lips. Suddenly his fingers found my scar and massaged it lightly, evoking a moan from me. I rose my hands to hold his shoulders as an attempt to balance myself.

I felt more than heard his laughter. 

“Look at you," he said. As he spoke I caught a flash of long and jagged teeth before it was gone. “‘I’ll never be yours .’ Liar, liar.”

I collected myself and pushed him away when I realised he was mocking me. He didn't move at fist but when I pushed him again he stepped back of his own volition, still laughing. 

“Are you taking the fucking deal or not?”

“No,” he enunciated the word slowly. “I like this game we’re playing and I don’t want it to be over just yet. As powerful as you think you are, you don’t have the power to control me with your blood. I’ve granted you enough as it is.”

“I wasn’t trying-”

“Don’t lie.”

I closed my hands in fists. 

“Fine. Can you at least say you’re sorry?”

“For what?” He raised his eyebrows.

“For Renfield,” I snapped, as if it wasn’t obvious.

“Do you want me to lie to make you feel better?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I want you to do.”

“I wish Renfield hadn’t attacked you,” he said, sticking his hands on his pockets.

“That wasn’t the apology I was looking for.”

“I know.”

Why did I even want an apology? Was I desperate to find some semblance of regret on him? Desperate to find anything remotely good in him to justify my desire for him? I bit the insides of my cheeks to keep the tears away, hating myself for letting him affect me like that. My whole body desired him while I knew I should hate him for what he did to Renfield, for what he was doing to me. It made me feel like his plaything. 

“Can you please leave? I have work to do.” 

He nodded.

“I assume you’ll take over as my lawyer to assort my affairs.”

“Not like I have an option, is it?”

“Quite. I’ll leave you to it. See you Wednesday!" 

He had already turned away, walking back to the elevator when I fully registered what he said.

“What happens on Wednesday?” I rose my voice to get his attention.

"I take you on a date," he answered over his shoulder.

I marched after him and stopped when I realised what I was doing. What could I possibly do or say to threaten a creature like him? I probably bothered him as much as soft wind did.

"I'm not going on a date with you after what happened today."

He slowly turned to face me again, a big grin on his face. A victorious grin. If he was winning, then I was on the losing side - of what, though?

“Oh but you are. Your deal clearly stated that I am to convince you that immortality is worth it. You didn’t express how I should do it. Therefore that end of the deal is mine to fulfill however I wish. ”

I groaned. Had I removed my brain at some point when I made that deal? I was used to being the winner inside courtrooms, and I had stupidly condemned myself by binding a contract between Count Dracula and I. As much as I would like to withdraw it, I didn't think he would be open to the idea. He had made it clear that he would make me a vampire whether I liked it or not. I had no choice but to abide by my own rules until I came up with a way out.

“I’d rather meet you," I said at last. "Where are we going?”

He smiled widely as he walked backwards, facing me.

“I’ll text you on Wednesday. Goodnight, darling.”

“Night, Dracula.”

   .

.

.

Taglist: @festering-queen​ @mr-kisskiss-bangbang​ @thorin-smokin-shield​ @hoefordarkness​ @dreamer2381​ @girlonfireice

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

What You Deserve

A/N- This is not actually part of the story, its a unused story that I spent a couple weeks writing so I didnt have the heart to delete it although I scrapped it from the original story line. So please know that I did use some of these scenes in my rewrite. 

Summary- 5.7k Curtis Evertt and Y/N. Early Years. You sit with a dying member of the train and listen to her talk about her late husband, and the idea of Soulmates crosses your mind. Do they exist? 

Warnings- Death, Almost a Non Con situation. Curtis having doubts that hes good enough. Boom, got them all I think. 

You sat with the older woman, Sheri for some time that day, perched on the end of her bunk, one leg folded underneath you and one dangling over the edge, her hand interlaced with your own. Sheri was dying your mother informed you that morning, and you simply couldnt let her pass off all alone. Your fingers interlaced with hers in that moment, yours young soft and supple, to her knobby jointed ones, age spots sprinkled across what felt like paper thin softness, like you press to hard it would fall apart. Every now and then a weak wet cough would spring forth, and you would lean forward to pat her mouth softly of any spittle that happened to escape. It was the least you could do for her, try to let her keep her dignity.

“Child, you shouldnt be here watching this.” Sheri would sputter, hazy eyes narrowing at you, knowing you wouldnt leave even if she was to send you away.

You shrugged, and resettled the blankets. “Where else would I go Sheri? Mom and Dad have everything all set in the medic bay, and I got lonely. Who better to keep me company?”

She snorted and coughed once more, raising her hand to wipe at her mouth before you could. “Hmmm, well Curtis comes to mind.”

You blush a bit and look away, which she grinned seeing your lovesick reaction. “Uh huh... Sheri, hes just a friend. And hes got better things to do. Like getting ready with McGregor.” Sheri rolled her eyes at you, and shifted to make herself more comfortable. “Child, ive see the way you two look at one another. I might be old, Im not blind. If you two would just admit your feelings are more then friends, then who knows. Might be the best thing you ever experience. I remember when I told Nathan how I felt. He was all stumbling over his words, spilling it as well.”

You chuckle at her memory, remembering Nathan well when you first came on the train, he was fiercly protective of his wife, and doted on Sheri, loved her with his last breath. You encourage her to speak more of her past, how Nathan and her had a whirlwind romance that ended with the two of them eloping. How when her father found out, he banned her from the house, and the first home she shared with Nathan was nothing more then a room with a bathroom, it was all they needed to start. “It got better, he was accepted to a university, and worked as a janitor at night, I was a waitress in a small off the interstate diner, along with babysitting. It was hard, but we appreciated all that we had.” Sheris eyes slipped closed and she mumbled. “Okay, Im gonna nap now, come back later Y/N, and we will talk some more.” the womans head tipped to the side, and you stayed long enough to be sure she was sleeping.

Drawing your way out, you are sure to slide the curtain closed for her privacy, and start making another round to see to other people, chat with them, just see if they need anything in general. You dont notice the wandering eyes following you, weaving through the people till you got to a quiter part of the tail end. You didnt notice, not until its to late when an arm shoots out in front of you, making you pause momentarily as it blocked you. “What the... Eric, what do you want?” You try to duck under his arm, but the mans grasp on your arm pauses you. A glance his way showed a handsome young man, blond locks curling around green eyes, that glinted coldly at you, and he firmly without any choice of your own backed you against the wall. “See youve been playing little home nurse again Y/N”

“Just helping mom and dad, can you please let go?” You try tugging your arm from his grasp and his other hand came up to your face to trace the curve, obviously not ready to loosen his hold, for whatever reason you would clam up around him, your heart fluttering and your breath quickening. Some would think it was innocent attraction. But it was more fear of what he would eventually do to you if given the chance. 

“When you going to let me kiss you huh? I dont see why you keep fighting me on this.” He hovered closer, his breath washing over your face and you wrinkle your nose at it. It was hot and sour to you, you tried to pull back but there was no where else to go, so the back of your head would thump against the cold metal wall.

“Im not, I dont want to and you cant change my mind.” You wriggle once more trying to get him to stop digging into your arm. “So how about you go find one of the other girls? I know there are plenty who want to be with you.”

“To easy, I rather like the one who denies me” His voice dropped deeper, making you panic sightly. His eyes, you hated the way he would stare at you, following you from wherever he was, like you were a prize to be had. "I figured it's about time I change your mind about it though." You strain out of his touch on your face and go to push against his chest to stumble him back.

"I said no! Fuck no would I ever be with you, let alone kiss you" you snap at him, turning to leave, put distance between you two, back in a crowd. Eric was to coward to try to anything with people around. He snarled though, wrapping an arm around you.

Effectively he pinned your arms helpless and your back against your chest, falling back harder then you expected, making you helpless, his hand clasped over your mouth, effectively muffling any protests you had. "What you think your to good for someone like me sweetheart. If your good enough to get Curtis's dick wet, think you can mine as well without this much of a fight." Your eyes widened at his words. I haven't, were not, stop... Your panic is washing over you, and he manipulated your head to fall back to his shoulder, lemmegolemmegolemmego, you try twisting out. Then he pressed his face in your neck, and bit you, what started as a sloppy kiss turned into a bruising bite, screaming at the shock of pain and you try kicking him hard enough in the leg behind you to drop him. The tread of your boot slid down the inside of his leg, and he pushed you away from him to crash you against the trains wall, hard enough to bounce you off, making you groan from the harsh impact.

Erics hand whipped you around, effectively pinning you with his body. No way to leverage a kick again, and hands pinned your arms down to keep from attacking. "Fucken shit head!" Your voice raised into yelling at him, where was everyone? It was eerily quiet and no one around, he smirked at your struggles, dawning on you when you saw how turned on, felt how turned on. That foreign bulge dug into your belly. "Keep struggling Y/N, just makes me hard for you, so cute thinking you don't want this."

"Your vile Eric, like those front end pigs" nothing but disgust dripping from your tone, trying to hide your fear. But he knows, it just widens his predatory grin knowing your words were masking the fear coursing through your veins. His lips hovered so close, mocking tone as he brushed them barely against yours, as you tried tilting your face away. “Come on Y/N, just one little kiss for me. Do it and I will let you go.”

You glare at him and spit, right in the fuckers face, it runs down his eyes and nose, and you smirk at him as he starts cussing and wiping his face on his sleeve. “You little fucken cunt whore! Nasty pig think you can get away with that shit?!” His hand releases you and goes to hit you when a grasp catches his wrist, wrenching it back. Both yours and Erics eyes go wide in surprise, and you see Curtis glowering behind him, firmly twisting Erics arm hard, then harder again he snarls out. “She sure as fuck is gonna get away with it. I think she told you no”

Curtis jerked Erics arm further and a crack was followed by Eric screaming and letting you go, you slid away from his grasp, Curtis jerking him forward to take where he had you pinned before. They were evenly matched in size, but Curtis had him crushed between his body and metal, his face distorted as you glanced up. It struck you in this moment just how opposite these two men were. Curtis never once raised his voice in the time youve known him,but he had to raise above Erics squealing out in pain and anger. “When a person tells you no, It fucken mean no. You owe Y/N an apology.” He pulled Eric off the wall, and kicked at the back of his knees to drop him in front of you.

Curtis loomed over him, his arm still firmly twisted up between his shoulder blades, and growled in the mans ear. “Say it, or Im going to wrench it right off your body.”

“Im sorry!” you could see the effort it took Eric to say it, but Curtis clearly wasnt satisfied.

“AGAIN!” This time he really roared, Eric cowering a bit, and remorseful, he started again.

“Im sorry Y/N, I promise to never touch you again!” Curtis glances at you and nods that its okay, he had him firmly and you stepped forward, grasping the mans hair, and tipping his head back.

“Touch me ever again, or ANYONE on this train, your dead, do you hear me Eric? I will have no problem watching you die, either by my hand or another. Am. I. Fucking. CLEAR?”

“Yes! god yes, just let me go, it wont happen again.” Eric pleads, and you step away from Eric, and circle around to Curtis’s side. Shoving him harshly away, Eric rolled to a stand and clutched his arm, racing away as fast as he could. The coward, would probably make up some lie to cover face when he made it to your father went to reset the arm. You stood next to Curtis, still fuming. Your fear from earlier forgotten, now you were just enraged watching where the coward disappeared.

“Hey, he aint gonna try messing with you again.” Curtis let his hand rest against your shoulder, looking down at you. He couldnt help but admire you in your rage and fury. Your cheeks were flushed red, and whisps of your hair curled around your face, your eyes bright as you dragged in air sharply to blow it out. Then you turned your gaze, softening just looking at him, and could see you start to loose that edge of your temper. He did that for you.. Curtis gaze softened in return and you turn into him, sliding your arms around his waist and pressing your face in against his chest.

“Thank you for looking out for me Curtis.” his hands braced against your back and seemed to envelope you. If possible he would just hold you like that for alot longer, but you pulled away, keeping it just friends. Maybe you noticed the way his heart jumped, or the way his throat caught in his throat. And it had been that way for monthes now, seeing you in this whole other way. Since that night you fought him, trying to defy that you would ever eat again. Something shifted that day, and yet he held back from telling you, mentioning it. Honestly he didnt deserve someone like you, for all the blackness in his soul. It was better you two just stay this. Stay friends. 

“Your welcome Y/N, I came to let you know Sheri, shes asking for you specifically. Your mom asked me to come get you.” Curtis was about to walk you back, but your eyes widened, and you sprinted up the aisle and out of sight before he could even think to catch up. Unsure of why you were rushing, he followed along behind, and hovered nearby, seeing glimpses of your hair as you were ducked in the bunk, and worried about intruding, he inched forward a bit enough to hear you, make sure it was all okay. Your voice was soft, almost sorrowed as you spoke. 

“Im here Sheri, Im sorry I didnt come sooner...” 

Unintelligible to Curtis at the moment, it only sounded older, raspier and you gave a small chuckle at whatever was said. 

“I already told you, were friends, Curtis and I.” your voice seems to be teasing at this, and guilt at eavesdropping, Curtis turned away from the two of them, those last words echoing in his minds. Friends. Thats all they were, and all they would ever be. He had to accept it. You werent really his, and he needed to stop feeling responsible for you.  The thought alone made him feel slightly depressed and heavy in his chest, hollow. It made him feel hollow, and he fell right in line with the others shuffling to the front to collect there daily rations. 

You curled up near Sheris side, in the time you left her, she just gotten worst, and the both of you knew it really was just a matter of time now. For a while Sheri fell back into stories of the past, mixing You and Nathan up, once in a while she will talk to you like you were her husband. Her soft knobby hands grasping yours, and a smile etching on her tired face. 

“Im so tired Nathan, whats it like?” She would say with her eyes closed, and you with your head slightly bowed, trying not to let your tears fall yet, you put on a smile instead and nod softly. 

“Yea Sheri Dear, its nice. All love and kindness. You never hurt, your always warm and we can be together.” 

“But is there Hershey Bars Nathan? And dont you lie to me, cause I always know.” 

You laugh slightly at it, barely remembering them yourself, but you do your best. “Of course, every day I will get you all the chocolate you want.” 

Sheri hums as if happy, and her eyes open, looking up at you. “Oh child you dont have to stay.” Back to herself again, she folded her hands around yours and patted them softly. “Thank you for sitting with me, Nathan told me hes waiting for me, and Im ready to go... Im ready to see him again, My Nathan.” She slowed her movements and drifted off to sleep. At some point your mother checks in on you. “Want me to sit with her and you go get some sleep?” 

A gentle shake of your head and smile, youve done this before... the silent wait, the death watch. “No, its okay. I will see you in the morning.” Your mother nods with understanding, life on the train, these past 10 years made you grow up faster then you should. It did for all of you. 

You sat there with her, refusing to leave this time, still holding her hand, that was limp and warm in your own, tracing over her knuckles and along the top of her hand, aged, weathered. Nothing really last forever, and in these thoughts Sheri drifted away, in her sleep. Just as she wanted. 

When you felt her just, become a body once more, you let your tears run free now, falling in the womans blankets, while you readjust her to cover her completely, shifting to a stand a bit weak legged from the hours you were there. You went to find your mother, but see shes sleeping, both your parents are. Looking up and down the aisle, you really dont want to be alone, not now. Not after having to say goodbye. It was moments like these you missed your little brother, having someone to hold in your arms and remember all the good memories through your sorrow.

Without even thinking about it, you wander, and soon your standing in front of a bunk youve never been into, but you knew who was there. You could hear him snore softly, and shift in his sleep. A soft rustle of his coat, a shadow in the darkness. Your heart catches, and it aches. It aches for your friend, for how excited she was to see her husband again. How you dont know if she really was though. “Curtis?” Your voice is soft, your not even sure you said it. But within seconds he sleepily stuck his head out, and hand wiping at his eyes and brows coming together in concern. “Y/N? Whats wrong? Are you okay?” 

You nod softly and maybe you shouldnt, it was such an odd request but it bubbles right out of your throat into words. “I dont... I dont want to be alone, please?” Your gaze lifts and it takes him a few seconds to register what your asking for, when it clicks, he doesnt even hesitate, his hand reaching out to grasp yours and help you up. Maybe he should send you home, send you back. But your looking so fragile in the dark, alone. 

When you settled in, Curtis felt the bunk warm up between you two, and you laid curled up near his side, not touching , but nearby. Your breathing was fast paced and uneasy. Nervous... Fuck shes nervous. He turned to his side, and reached out to grasp your chin lightly to look up at him, since you had your face tucked down. “Y/N, want to tell me whats going on?” Curtis figured it was best to get to the bottom of what was bothering you, why you came to seek him like this. 

“Do you believe in soulmates and such Curtis?” You start to loosen up, folding your hands under your head as you roll to your side as well, looking back at him. Curtis brow furrowed a bit at the very odd question from you, and gave a light shrug at it. “Im not entirely sure Y/N, I never thought about it honestly. My folks werent exactly the most loving towards each other, kinda like... “ He tried to think of how to compare them to that you might remember. “Al and Peggy Bundy from that comedy. I dont know if you would even know what Im talking about. But anyways, always kinda mean to one another, but they just stayed together. Soulmates? I dont know if they exist. Why?” 

You vaguely recalled what he was talk about, the theme song playing a bit through your mind, you remembered your dad watching it, but you never paid attention to what he was watching. “Yea I know what your talking about Curtis. I was sitting with Sheri during her last bit, and she thought I was her husband. It just... she talked to him like they hadnt missed a beat, although its been years. I did my best to give her answers for him. I just, think I witnessed what that would be.” Curtis reached out and wrapped you up in his arms, understanding now that you were saying Sheri was gone. Doing that sit was never easy. Clearly this one effected you. But certainly not in the way he fully expected. 

You let him pull you in close, twisting to lean in against his chest while he held you, his hand was rubbing up and down your back in a comforting manner. It lulled you to close your eyes, and after a few moments, you heard him speak. A rumble in his chest making you stir to look up at him. At this angle, you couldnt see his eyes. “Before this, did you believe in that notion? Soul mates, think they could find each other in a life like this?” Curtis question made you pull up to sit next to him, so you could properly see him. See if he was teasing you, although he didnt have that tone he did when he was, or if he was being serious in his question. Crystal blue eyes stared up at you, with nothing but seriousness, and maybe hope? 

You studied Curtis for a few moments, and as sometimes happened to you, your heart seemed to speed just a bit, and you smiled at him softly, nodding. “I do Curtis, call me a hopeless romantic but we have to have hope right? Why not hope that we can find something so complete in even this hell.” You shrug and tip your head against your shoulder in that optimistic way before dropping your shrug. It was then he pushed up to sit as well, and he pulled at his lip with a drag of his teeth, seeming to think. You waited him out, your hands folding in your laps and looking at him wide eyed. 

Why do you look at him like that. His resolve weakening. You were so innocent looking up at him, patient as always for him to find the words, for him to decide, for him to get rid of that guilt that he doesnt deserve you in a way more then this. You were probably the reason he hasnt done anything to reckless and gotten himself killed. Fuck it Curtis... Resolve sliding over his face and his hands cupped the sides of your face, so soft under his touch, just as he knew you would be. Soft for him, he only wanted you to ever be soft for him like this, wanting to feel you press against him, the warmth of your breath whispering into his ear that you needed him. How many times had he thought this, wanted this. And now, you were staring up at him just waiting for him to tell you all this. 

“Can I kiss you Y/N?” He asked, ready to pull back the moment you looked appalled by his request, and you never utter those words, nothing changes but a quickening of your breath, and a nervous lick of your lips. Curtis wonders, have you ever been asked before? He was patient, he could wait, would wait till your ready. Its something you never admitted to yourself, but yes... you really wanted that kiss. A dip of your head and a soft “Yes” was given. 

Thumbs circled over her cheekbones, and you held your breath, waiting with anticipation. His features grew soft looking at you, raking over your face for a moment, searching for a no from you before he lowered his head and pressed his lips to yours, they were softer then you been expecting, and a bit lost in what to do. But Curtis started a light nibble, a press of his tongue made you gasp in surprise. A tentative touch of his tongue against your own, and you finally started to relax into it, exploring in your own way. Although Curtis controlled your first kiss, you felt free, a rush of your senses making you pull in closer, your hands sliding up his chest and around the back of his neck. 

Your fingers buried into the back of his shirt, and his own hands slid off your face, and down to your hips to pull you in closer, flushing you into his chest, and a rumbling moan crept from him. You were everything he knew you would be and more. Already it was rushing to his head, feeding a deep seated hunger he had been ignoring for the past ten years since arriving on the train. If he wasnt careful, he was going to do something he might regret, and pulled away, leaving you stunned, and giving a whimper at the loss of his lips against yours. How flushed you looked, shocked, even dare he say a hint of pleasure dazing your eyes. Your lips were swollen from his kiss, and that made him pleased he could make you look like this, just a simple kiss. 

Staring at one another, it was apparent that there was no going back now, no more just best friends. You were still slightly in a daze and Curtis laid back down, his hand circling your arm to tug you to join him. “We should get some sleep.” in which you stretched out next to him. You wanted to say something, but didnt know what. The kiss, unlike anything youve ever experienced and in the dark, your fingers moved to touch your lips, smiling at the memory of it now. The feelings you had for him, had been there a long time, and until now, you never let yourself believe it was a true possibility. 

Curtis on the other hand, well he was cursing himself out for what he just done. You were far to good for him and he should have known better then that. He didnt deserve you, not your honey sweet kisses he just got lost in, or the way you were so sweetly curled up next to him, trying not to intrude. Oh he was fucked... completely fucked. Why did he have to kiss you? He groaned inwards, waiting, just waiting for you to come to your senses. He was a baby murderer, it would happen soon, he was sure. You would remember what he done, and push him away, shut yourself off from him, and then in that moment, Curtis would be all alone on the train. Long after you fallen asleep, Curtis laid wide awake with his thoughts poisoning his mind. 

That next day he had disappeared before you could talk to him, and kept expecting to see him, but you never did. Which was odd, cause he had a habit of finding you at various points in passing. Only place he could be was Gilliams, and that alone made you worry. Not that Gilliam was necessarily bad, but people plotted with him, talks of trying to escape was always so sush around the man, like a man of many secrets. You scolded yourself at your thoughts, knowing Gilliam was a good man. Hes helped all of you so many times, was the leader of your people. If anyone knew you felt this way, your throat closed at the idea of what could happen to you. 

You were soon distracted by a 5 year old named Joey. “Hey, Its almost time, right Y/N?” he said excitedly as he ducked into the medic bay as if he owned the place, pulling on your coat and looking up with a glimmer of hope passing his face, you wink down at him, and take care of the last of the supplies. Whatever was going on with Curtis was going to have to wait. And you pushed the thoughts from your mind.

“Of course, whenever Minister Mason announces that we are passing over bridge, that means its a whole new year, and every new years what do we get?” tapping your finger on your chin, you pretend to ponder. “Oh what is it. They are white, and inside is all that yummy goodness. Hmmmm.... Frog eggs? No way to slimey! maybe a dog egg? Wait dogs dont lay eggs... Maybe a... “ at this point Joey is just about bouncing excitedly, finally bursting out.

“Chicken? Right Y/N Chicken Eggs?! I think they lay eggs.” a slightly confused look crossed his face. “Im not even sure what a chicken is.”  

“Oooh! Thats what they are. And chickens run around on two legs, flap there wings and are big fluffy butts.” You cross your eyes at Joey and mimic flapping your arms, making him laugh.

“Like Miz Scarlett?” He asks, and he says it so innocently, you have a hard time not laughing, pressing a finger against his lips. “No no, she certainly doesnt look like a chicken.” Although she did that one time her nice feather down coat split down the back and feathers scattered through the tail end. You all still found the occasional feather fluttering through the aisle. Plus the woman had the tendency to be a bit over dramatic, flailing her arms around whenever she had to prove a point. Joey always had been an observant kid.

The two of you chatted about what else New Years brought, while heading out into the aisle to return him back to his mother. “were gonna have a cele-celebratition?” You chuckle and repeat the word properly. “Celebration, and it will be something like that yes.” It wasnt much, usually just a bunch of people sitting around the gate, waiting for there only treat Wilford ever gave them on the train. But it always turned into a good time, people sharing stories, and once in a while a game or two was played. “Gilliam is gonna tell us right?” Joey asks, now looking concerned.

Your brows come together, and nod, giving his little hand a squeeze. “Of course Buddy, were not gonna miss out on the best day ever, right? I will come make sure your there with everyone else.” You smile at him to assure, and he pulls up, leaping into a lower bunk to crawl over to his mom. “Mom! Y/N said its almost new years, and we get chicken eggs and maybe we get to hear stories and... “ he ended up running out of air and took a deep breath. “and Miz Scarlett doesnt look like a chicken.” You end up covering your mouth,while his mom puts him on her lap and shakes her head. 

“Now Joey, you cant be telling anyone they look like chickens! Jeeze child, what am I going to do with you?” She tickled his side and he went sprawling across the bed, and rolled back up, the excitement tinging his face. “I wont, I wont... I promise!” The PA systems crackles, and you put your finger up to your lip to sush Joey, all of you tipping your head to listen. Minister Masons nasal voice crackled and stated. 

“We just passed the bridge, and another year on Wilfords Miracle Train. How lucky we have all been to be here for this miraculous day. Mr.Wilford is providing everyone a treat to celebrate, be sure to come up to the front in a ORDERLY fashion, and be sure to thank him for his bountiful grace hes bestowed upon us.” 

You roll your eyes to yourself for the fucking dramatics, but you tilt your head and sound excited for Joey. “Come on Kiddo! I bet hes got something real good for us.” The child looks to his mother for permission and she nods, sending him flying out of the bunk to grasp your hand and practically tugging you down the aisle, since its quite a walk for his little legs, he wanted to hurry. “Slow down Joey, we will get there” You laugh, and then Curtis sweeps past you and hauls the kid up in his arms, grinning at you as he turned around, and walked backwards, Joey, wrapping his little arm around his neck. “We got places to be, Dont We Joe?” The little boy gave a very serious nod and looked down to Curtis. “Yes sir we do.” 

“Okay, okay... Im coming!” You pull up alongside Curtis with a sigh like they were being ridiculous, and once they were in sight of the front, Joey started wriggling to get down. “Put me down Curits, I want to go get in line!” in which hes swung down and as soon as his feet hit the grate, he bolts away from the two of you. The both of you hang back while others crowd to form a line. You let yourself lean against his shoulder and look up to catch his attention. “Feels like youve been hiding on me Curtis.” 

“No, just been busy.” He glances at you and away, watching to make sure Joey doesnt get lost in the mayhem. Liar, hes always been a bad liar. You see right through it, and you dip around to stand in front of him. “Say that again Curtis, and mean it this time.” Your mouth curls up in a grin, and he growls a bit under his breath that he had been caught. 

“Listen, yesterday...” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck and looking down. “I took advantage and I shouldnt have.” 

“Curtis Everett, when have I ever done anything I didnt want to do?” You fold your arms over your chest and shake your head. 

“Well...” 

“That doesnt count and you know it.” Giving him a silent warning and he snapped his jaw shut. You step in closer and take a hold of his jacket, fiddling your fingers in it. “Listen to me closely, You didnt take advantage, okay, and Im not going anywhere. It wasnt bad, right?” 

His eyes widened and a shake of his head to get rid of the notion, he couldnt help but touch you again, his hands moving along your arms, up to cup your face again. “Absolutely not, it was... the best kiss ive ever had.” his face softened when he said it out loud. 

A slight blush crept in your cheeks, but to hear him say that, just made you more bold, knowing you werent wrong. You were ready for this moment, and never thought it was possible. “Then why do you fight it?” You asked as you slid up against him, and move to your toes to reach him, cupping the back of his neck, you bring him down to meet you, and more confident this time, you kissed him slowly. This one was yours, and the people started cheering around them at the announcement of the new year. But for Curtis, his world narrowed to the woman in his arms, nothing else existed or mattered for him. You fit in his hold, like you were meant to be. the soulmates questioned flashed through his mind and then you moaned into his mouth, and all thoughts went away for good. 

He knew in that moment, there wasnt going to ever be anyone else. He might not deserve someone like you, but he wasnt going to let you go. 

[skittles1229]

Old Expectations Die Hard (Dashie x Reader Fanfic)

Chapter One: Weird Circumstances

You know your life is complicated when the friend you always complain to says "you never have a dull moment do you?" I sigh as the weight of the world seems to make it impossible to breath. You see recently things have been rough. I lost my job and my fiance all in the same day, that itself was an unbelievable story. I was so upset and strung out on thoughts of what to do that once i got home early from work i didn't notice the extra car in the driveway. i stepped into my home and my own floors felt as if they'd given way when i saw the guy i thought i'd be spending my life with in bed, with my sister... my sister and i hadn't been on good terms for a while and for a good reason! The drugs she took either made her unreliable and selfish or crazy and murderous. He, of course, pulled the its not what you think, id never hurt you, it was a mistake, and honestly i could write a book out of the excuses i heard in the time of two minutes but maybe another time. Needless to say i left. I never thought about going back and to be honest my sister looked more hurt then i was. I took a job in California a few weeks ago and moved in with my friend (BFF Name). They always seemed to know what to say and honestly i truly believe They  knew me better then i know myself. 

California gave me the biggest culture shock I've ever had. I came from Mississippi, the bible belt and the most rural part of the world. California was sooooo different then what i was use to. The weather is awesome. There's lots of jobs for technical people, at least until you're 45 and then you're considered ancient and you can't possibly know anything when some 23-year old out of Stanford tells you that they know it all. (a little bit of sarcasm there) It's a great place to start a new company, money is available as is talent. The risk of starting a company is lower since you can always find a new job The politics are insane, if you aren't towing the progressive party line you should just STFU. If you even once say that Trump has done something positive, or that Obama did something negative prepare for the wrath. Read the stuff behind the recently filed lawsuit against google for a taste of what it's like. Seriously, don't say a word. The state if structurally bankrupt, although the finances look good because so much stuff is off of the balance sheet. The public pension liability dwarfs the "good" part of the budget, and some day it is coming home to roost. Watch out when it does. The cost of living is absurd, really absurd. I'm not talking just a place to live but gas, electricity, haircuts, milk, pizza, you name it. The traffic is absurd too. (can you tell i like the word absurd) The public transit, although usually on time, is a mess. People are pigs, they throw trash everywhere, the cars are overcrowded almost all the time. 

I've got to say, from how much it sounds like i hate California, i actually don't.  Mainly because its so far away from my original family, leaving really helped me start to grow up and feel like maybe i was getting a hold of my life again. Only problem has been getting to my new job on time. I work as a barista and a waitress at a brunch place a good minute away from the apartment. The money is good, otherwise i wouldn't waste my time with the commute everyday. i keep being late to work because i still haven't adjusted to how terrible traffic is and so my boss was "nice" enough to switch me to the later shifts. The hours are long and boring because my shift starts in the middle of rush hour to the slowest hours at the end of the day meaning you have to find things to keep yourself busy with. the only good thing is, we can wear pretty much anything we want as long as its black. all i wear is dark colors so i didn't have to spend any extra money on a uniform and i didn't have to wear the same thing everyday. Today i decided i wear a v-neck shirt that with an emperor waist (body forming) with black skinny jeans and my regular converse. i decided against driving to work and decided it would be far smarter to catch a bus to the nearest destination. My (hair color) hair was done is a fishtail messy braid, i always liked this style because it made me look like i had a head full of hair when in reality i thought i was going bald. 

My personality was a little odd, you see some days i felt like the beautiful nerd who has no confidence and wants to hide away in a hole. other days i feel like a model from Victoria secrets, of course those are the days i get the most tips. today was honestly a mutual day, where id rather be at home in my bed asleep, or listening to music. The bus finally stopped a block away from my job and i sighed obviously not wanting to go into work. surprisingly there wasn't nearly  as many cars as there usually is around this time but i wasn't complaining. i walk in to see that most of the downstairs was empty but whoever was upstairs definitely had a loud mouth. i walk to the back in order to clock in and i bump into melany ( the girl im shifting with). "wow you actually got here on time! Maybe the boss's mood will cheer up." i huffed a little. "yea, i dont know why i thought id need a car in California, say whats with the low level of customers? its NEVER this slow." she looked at me in disdain, "some guys reserved the entire upstairs and we had to make this huge table out of all our tables up there, glad im not gonna be the one fixing it later." i rolled my eyes, i hated when a huge family came in and they just had to move everything around because little johnny wants the sit next to suzzie and suzzie HAS to sit by her parents bc she likes to throw her food on the floor, all fake names but a real situation ive been in before. "well have they at least been fed so that i only have to clean up after them?" she shook her head while hanging up her apron. "nope, they've only ordered their drinks and they are getting those onto trays now." so today was gonna be like every other day. "guess i better go help them take those upstairs then, have a good rest of your day." i walk away and slip on my apron, grabbed one of the trays of drinks while another waiter grabbed the rest of the drinks. Once i got upstairs, that's when i met him...

Chapter Two: Last Will and Testament

          He was sitting on the far end of the long table of people laughing and joking. everyone seemed to be loud and all had their own inside jokes. This guy, he stuck out. i changed my attention to the task at hand, finishing this shift. i hated when people moved all the tables and seating around. all the waiters and waitresses have to go back behind them and look at the layout of the floor to put them all back exactly as they were before. it was a struggle and because of this nobody actually wanted that job so usually the manager gives it to her least favorite workers and i happened to be one. "who all had coke?" nobody answered me so one of the men bellowed out the same line and somehow was able to get a show of hands. i walked around handing  out drinks, catching the lingering smell of strong liquor. i could tell by the end of tonight they would all be wasted and loud. please, just don't make more of a mess then you have to, i thought to myself. i had one drink left on my tray, "sweet tea?" the guy i saw before at the end of the table waved his hand and i dreaded going over there, i always seem to make a fool of myself when it matters. 

     i make my way slowly down the table with the tray under my arm and the tea in my hand. i lean over to sit his drink on the table.."here's your t-" *CRASH* while joking with one of his friends his elbow crashes into my hand sending the tea flying all over me and the cup crashing to the floor, thank god i wore black. he turned around and looked more horrified then i did. "i'm sorry! i'm so sorry!" his voice was deeper then i imagined it'd be. "no, it my fault i'm sorry ill get you a new one." i turned away to hide my embarrassment and walked away really just trying to get away from the situation. i could tell from the silence behind me that all eyes were on me. i ran to the back where the lockers were for the service. i went to the bathroom and stripped the sticky clothes off throwing them aside. i sat on the toilet  trying to catch my breath, my social anxiety had struck me  hard. a feeling of worthlessness and dread fell over me like a blanket. after the past few months i've had just one day without something terrible happening would mean the world to me. i heard a knock on the door, it was melany, she walked in with a towel from the kitchen. "hey, i heard what happen upstairs are you ok?" i covered my breast trying keep myself as unexposed as possible. "oh yea im fine, im just cold, and sticky, and... covered in tea." melany and i made eye contact and both laughed just to lift the dread in the air. "let me guess, all the guys are getting a kick out of watching me fumble again huh?" i said a little less concerned and more annoyed. she rolled her eyes "they are boys, they get a kick out of picking their own nose. we both slid to the floor beside each other, she hands me the damp towel. i get most of the sticky off as possible, throwing my hair up to make it look less clumped together by the sugar. "i have an extra black t shirt in my locker but i don't know how it will fit you. your breast are at least a size larger then mine." i shrugged my shoulders, "who cares ill make do. thanks for your help melany." she smiled her weird anime girl smile and ran to get the shirt from her locker.

     ill have to admit, she was right about the size thing. it was far to small around the chest area but the rest fit fine. after the incident my boss stuck me down stairs wiping tables and sweeping the floor, i dont mind though because i get to experience the day coming to an end with a beautiful sunset over California. i secretly kept the the window to watch as the sun fell from the sky. the sky seemed to burn and darken while the clouds began to glow with the last bit of sunlight left. the sky filled up with burning Burgundy and faded orange and yellows, the tallest buildings seemed to reach for the skyline as if it were a sunflower moving to the last drip of sunlight. moving here had been hard, and this had become one of the things i looked forwards to. living in the apartment with my friend was nice, buts its not the same as coming home to someone you use to lay with every night. sleeping alone seemed so much colder and emptier then i remembered from childhood. my mother would be so disappointed in the way i turned out, in the places id gone and the decision to spend my life with someone who was most obviously the wrong one. she would have told me to slow down and to take my time, that growing up wasn't everything. she would have said love isn't something you just wake up and have, its something you make. i wasn't anywhere close to where i thought id be by now, and i could see that. it tears at my heart everyday, not being able to see her or any of my family. sometimes it felt as if they'd all died in the fire that night. 

     i suddenly heard a boom of voices making their way down the stairs, i hadn't realized how close to closing time it had become. all of them walk out stumbling and laughing at their own jokes, seems they all got a good bit of drinking in, all except one. The guy i ran into on accident seemed as sober as ever, designated driver i think, he was much taller now. he seemed muscular but in such a fitting way for his body. his teeth sparkle because their so white, his smile complimented him best. his high cheekbones made his chocolate brown eyes his best feature. His skin was glowing with a sweet honey hue and before i could notice that i was staring he turned his head. his eyes met mind before i could think twice and that's when i felt the heat rise to my cheeks. weather it be from embarrassment or silly school girl shyness i didn't know . i turned my face away but it was too late, i turned my face a little just to catch a glimpse of him before he made his way out of the door and that's when i noticed his cheeks had gone from a burnt caramel to a rosy color. i felt my body shiver at the thought that maybe, just maybe he found me as attractive as i found him. i shook the thought from head realizing they had began locking the place down. as i helped close up shop and wash dishes i couldn't help but to let my mine wander to all different kinds of thoughts, funny thing was they always fell back to him and his rosy  cheeks. i couldn't help but smile as i felt my heart race at the thought of him, even though id made a fool of myself today i was glad i hadn't ruined my chances. Even if he'd never get with me or i wouldn't ever see him again, i'd still take it as a compliment that he even looked my way. 

     before long we were all outside laughing and talking about today. The manager locked the doors and said his goodbyes. i turn to walk towards the bus station when i see a man standing aside awkwardly between the restaurant and the parking lot. suddenly my eyes adjusted and once they did, the joyousness butterflies came back and the blush suddenly reappeared on my cheeks..

There are lots more chapter after this if you are interested you can find them here

https://my.w.tt/sosFRmianbb

[thewritingstar]

Bite my Tongue

Pairing: Blossom x Butch (blossutch)

Fandom: PowerPuff Girls

Words: 6027

So I had this idea a while ago and suddenly i was struck with inspiration. This is probably the longest one shot ive done and im actually really proud of this so please be nice and show some love! Im sorry to everyone not in the fandom and just waiting for me to get off the ppg high but ahahhahah no. Anyways i hope you enjoy. 

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Blossom was never one to shout out her opinions. She always thought them through before letting others know what she had to say. She took into consideration every perspective and point of view and if it was a question relying heavily on morals, she had already decided the right answer in her head. She was bold but never brash, unlike Buttercup who would jump straight into anything and figure out the ending later. Even Bubbles’s heavy heart could cloud her judgement at times, Blossom tried to be the one to even out the score. 

She could hold her tongue if she didn't agree because it was too much of a headache to correct every single person, she wanted to, but she knew her limits. She was an extremely educated woman. She taught herself how to read and do basic math days after she was “born”. She graduated top of her class in every school, preschool, elementary, middle and high school where she had to unfortunately share the top spot with Brick who had the same exact GPA as her down to the 11th decimal point. Yes, they checked that far. 

She went to an elite college and worked her way into a PHD for Organic Chemistry, Marine Biology and even Law. No one knew more than her, except maybe Brick, but that was still up for debate because she graduated one week before him. They had a conjoined party and they spent most of the night debating. Most people thought they hated each other but they had a really close bound like siblings. 

The moral of her life is that she knew best. She knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it and if she didn’t she would find a way. It’s what made her such a determined and born leader. No matter the situation being a group project for English class or a monster fight, the calculations in her head were ready and thought through before leaving her mouth. 

And if she ever did yell or scream without thinking, it would only be a millisecond before she had facts to prove her point. 

However she didn’t know how much of a loose cannon she would be when it came to her boyfriend. The notorious ex villain RowdyRuff Boy Butch. Aka the most unsuitable man for Blossom Utonium according to every single person's unhelpful opinion. 

She remembers when the feelings arose during high school. For some reason he had come to her for help on his mid terms. Of course she was more than happy to help and she wondered if it was because he liked to tease her or to get under his brother's skin. Whatever the case, she happily agreed. 

“I love doing charity work.” She said smugly and the dark green eyes looked at her before making her blush from the stare. 

“Damn Pink, no need to be harsh.” His voice was light and she was thankful he didn’t see it as a threat. She liked that she could joke with him because if she had said that to Brick, let’s just say another argument would break out. 

Weeks passed by as she would spend lunch and after school time with him studying. She didn’t know when he looked so peaceful when doing his homework or how much she truly enjoyed his company. They would go to small cafes or sit in the park with their worksheets spread around them. 

There was this small feeling deep within her heart that she hadn’t quite known. She thought she was getting sick or light headed but the pressure built up as she heard him laugh. She left that day and spent the rest of the night quietly staring at the ceiling, her mind for once empty as she didn’t know what to say or do. 

It was one of the first moments that she didn’t think through. It was a sudden loose thought and she ran with it. Her heart screamed at her after he came running up to her after fall break to show her that he had gotten high scores on his exams. His smile was breathtaking and she spun her around, flying them into the air before setting them back down. Those few seconds in the sky as he held her close and genuinely laughed made her have a heartfelt thought. 

Her feet landed on the ground and she was thankful that they were alone because while he was rambling on and on about how she helped him, she wrapped her fingers around the strings of his hoodie and pulled him close before crashing her lips against his. 

He wasted no time kissing her back. His lips were unbelievably soft and she had kissed others before but for some reason, this felt right. Her clouded judgement of whether she should have done this or not washed away when they pulled apart and he stared at her with wide eyes and an even wide smirk. 

“I’m proud of you Butch.” Her fingers were still around his hoodie but he made no intention to move out of her grasp. “In fact you can thank me by taking me out on Saturday.” 

To say they were both surprised was an understatement. His smirk somehow got bigger and she swore that she picked up on the blush on his cheeks and there was no doubt that her face was matching his. 

He said nothing but continued to stare and she suddenly felt like she read all the signs wrong. Maybe the shoulder touches and the knees touches weren’t what she thought. Maybe the light flirting and the teasing was just that, a joke. Maybe, oh her head was now racing. She knew better than to run all the options and pros and cons of each situation. 

She had a hand on her waist before she was pulled closed. Her hands now flat against his chest, she didn’t even know she had looked away from him. 

“You’re cute when you think too much.” So he saw those gears always turning in her head. The concentration on her face was mostly present throughout the day, the inner superhero in her. “Saturday it is Pink.” He whispered and she closed her eyes as his lips fell on hers again. Her mind now at ease.

--  

The moment the world heard about their dating, which started in high school mind you, the news exploded. Time after time they asked why she didn’t date her counterpart and time and time again she would say “Because I don’t want to”. Which was true. There was no spark between them like that. Brick had taken eyes for the joy and the laughter sister while Boomer was busy swooning over the toughest fighter, she was happy for them. Everyone was happy for those pairs. 

But Butch and Blossom received the most criticism. They understood the dynamic between the scary bad boy and the sweetest girl to walk the earth and the relationship between the best damn sports girl and the best damn musician. The dynamic of the perfectionist and the far from perfect was not everyone's cup of tea. 

At first she was annoyed. She would shoot reporters cold glares and say that her personal life was her business only. She never let Butch know how much it hurt her when people would talk down about them together. She would always be chipper around him and make sure that he always felt loved by her, she would hate to make him feel bad because of what stupid reporters would say. 

Luckily for Butch he genuinely couldn’t care less what the press thought. He spent his entire life being hounded down for his behavior and has taught himself to let things just roll off his shoulders, he had super powers, what did they have? Nothing. 

And although he could let things slide, he saw it in her eyes one day when they were hanging out. The nice summer's day was interrupted by an attack from a brutal monster. The girls saved the day as usual and as she landed and went to talk to the police, an interview got in her way. The man said something about her being better than her boyfriend and how she could allow herself to date someone who was a villain. It wasn’t even the worst comment she had received, but her body ached and all she wanted to do was curl up into her bed and cry. 

Without thinking she turned and used her ice breath, freezing his camera and making it shatter to the ground. 

“I think they are the cutest.” Bubbles said behind her and she was thankful that her sisters supported her. They were all in the same boat after all. 

Buttercup passed the guy too and shot a glare. “That’s my counterpart so saying shit like that is insulting to me buddy.” The man began shaking as the threat came from her. Buttercup never liked to use the ‘counterpart term’ but she would if it meant defending her sister and her best friend. 

Her sisters saw that strong exterior crumble. They have had their fair share of comments but watching Blossom slightly shake and bite her quivering lip as she flew home made them both sad. Bubbles wrapped her arms around her and Buttercup kissed the top of her head while texting the green eyed boy to call his girl. 

She almost didn’t pick up the phone when he called. But eventually he got her to sit on the edge of an abandoned building's roof, one of their many secret spots. He sat next to her, arm over her shoulder as he held her. Her tears came as a surprise and he let her use his shirt to soak up her pain. 

“It isn’t fair.” She whispered as she held his hand. 

“I know.”  he kissed her head. 

“It's okay if you’re done.” She cried. “I understand.” She began to move away from him. Ashamed that she had let all these people say these terrible things about him. It wasn’t fair and he deserved better. They had only been dating for about two months, she would be okay. 

It's happened before. All her past relationships had left because they couldn’t take the heat and she would try to tell them that it wouldn’t matter, because it didn’t. But for this one, it hurt. She wanted to be able to say that she wasn’t affected by the press, she wasn’t before so why now? She had become numb to paparazzi in the past but every since they practically hounded Butch every chance they got, she was afraid.

She was frightened to acknowledge that it was all wrong. Before accepting any of her other boyfriends, she had a day or two to think about it. How would they act? What would dates be? All those things played over and over in that massive mind space but this was completely blind. She had stopped thinking around him, not literally but in the means that she didn’t have to and she liked that. 

But she was now looking at the consequence of it all. Butch, who has done so much to clean up his reputation with his brothers and become civilized as much as possible, he still would fight with BC constantly but there was nothing she could do about that. He deserves someone better. Someone who wasn’t stuck up and held their head too high for anyone to touch her crown, not that she believed she did that but that's what the rumors said. Bossy Blossy as they say. 

It wasn’t fair to make him suffer. Not when his brothers got off easy. Brick was somehow adored by the press when he did something so little as smile at Bubbles and Boomer was the golden boy as he opened doors for Buttercup. But Butch, no. When the cameras captured them together, Blossom was always laughing and yet, they still said he was no match. 

So when he grabbed her arm gently and pulled her to his chest. She was surprised when she felt the tears drip onto her shoulders. She looked into those green eyes she grew so fond of, they were a great color, and saw them brimming with matching tears. 

That was something she adored about him. He was naturally so tough and rough and felt the most confident with dirt caked on his face and blood dripping from the scraps. And then there was this side. The delicate and softness that no one thought he could have. The way he touched her and talked, he was always so sweet with her. 

“Blossom.” He rarely used her name. It was always pet names and endearments but when he did use her name it was for the sake of love and pain, almost like he had to save it for a special occasion. “You may not believe me but I do not give a single fuck about what those nobody's say.” 

She sniffed as his thumb caught one of her tears. “Really?” Her voice was trying to regain its strength. 

“Yes. Why would I? They say I don’t deserve you and sure I felt that way too, but then I remembered something.” He laughed a little which made her smile. 

“What?” She sniffled. 

“I remembered that I was dating Blossom Utonium. The girl who thinks everything through before diving in. She never once goes back on her promises and is so incredibly smart that she could do anything she sets her mind too. That's why I don’t worry because if you decided that I am worthy of dating you, then why would those people mean anything? You are already enough and every time I get to kiss you, for fucks sake Pink, it all washes away. So let them say shit because I have all the proof I need.” 

“You always know what you want Butch. That's what I admire about you.” 

“So do you. Maybe sometimes you just need to stop and smell the roses.” 

“How sweet.” She kissed his cheek which was now fully dried of tears.

“Only for you Pink.” 

--

As years passed Blossom learned how to bite her tongue more. He taught her to not give, as he said, a single fuck and no one dared to talk about them unless it was with praise. Blossom really did try but a Reds ' patience could only go so far. Whenever someone insulted Bubbles, her husband would not hesitate to snap on them, she understood completely. Maybe that's why having a boyfriend who was cool and calm and just went with the flow was perfect. She could get fired up and he would simply cool her down. 

On the flip side, once you made a green mad, it was over and she knew better than to try and stop him. She may have enjoyed watching her boyfriend and sister beat the shit outta nasty reporters a little too much. 

She could only take so much and today was proving it. 

She was a lawyer and even though her office was filled with highly educated people, she was stuck in the back corner with three other girls who were only there as personal assistants. Then again she was only here temporarily due to her private office being constructed upstairs. Yes, she was that good. 

She couldn’t wait to have her own space. It would be nice to have a quiet place to work and if there was an emergency involving robots or monsters, her office had the perfect balcony to fly from so that she wouldn’t disturb her coworkers. But she hated being in that corner. 

In the last hour as she was finishing filing all of her neatly done paperwork, the conversation went from lip injections, the new outlet shops, the hottest men in really expensive underwear and now the topic of the ever so light gender bias was upon these ladies. 

“Did you see what happened with the actress from the giant squid film?” Haley said. “She got engaged and she was the one to propose to him.” The other two girls gasped as they fixed their nails. 

“I just don’t think that women should be allowed to ask her boyfriend to marry her. A man should propose.” The uptight blonde, Peggy said. 

“Absolutely not.” Gertrude said. “What do you think Blossom?” All eyes were now on her and she rolled her own before turning in her chair. She felt a headache coming on. 

 “I don’t see the problem.” She simply stated as she filed another paper neatly. “Good for them.” 

“You don’t think it's wrong?”

“Nope.” She didn’t have time for this; she was trying to find her stapler. 

All eyes turned to her as the other women who shared the space scoffed. “I highly doubt that your boyfriend would let you.” Gertrude said. Where was it?

Blossom’s left eye twitched and now she turned in her chair to see their faces. “My boyfriend?” She asked with a scolding tone. Fuck the stapler.

“Butch?” Haley scoffed. “Oh he is too prideful to let even Blossom propose. I mean face it Blossom, you are this big successful woman who saves the world and is crazy smart. All he does is listen to your commands. You already wear the pants in the relationship so you should agree that he should be able to make at least this decision.”

The sound of Blossom slamming her filing cabinet echoed through the office. If her man taught her one thing, it was to let the comments slide, but this, this was unacceptable. She had been through the tabloids, the paparazzi and her own “friends” questioning the integrity and well being of Butch. If he could see her rage boiling, he would have told them to “fuck off” and wrap his arm around her shoulder before they went and got smoothies. 

But he wasn’t here. She didn’t need him here to defend herself. She let that lid that was secured on her anger to screw loose and fly off. These women could criticize her all they wanted, but not her boyfriend, she wouldn’t allow it. 

“My boyfriend is a successful teacher. So he may not have the same degrees as me but he loves teaching his students and also fights to save this city and your sorry asses.”

She turned to them before grabbing her purse. Her stare was as ice cold as the power that trembled in her blood. She never used her power as intimidation against people around her but the way her palms sparked with a hot pink temper, made the ladies shut their lips. 

“Before you dare say anything about him, just know one thing. He has done more things in his life than you will ever. He may not be passionate about the same things as me but that does not make him any less of a man or any worthy of dating me. If you are going to slander his name, do it when I am not here because if you saw how much he cares about me, you would be begging to be the one dating him. He is capable of doing whatever he pleases and unlike your failed excuse of a boyfriend Gertrude, his masculinity wouldn’t crumble if I were to ask him to marry me.” 

The women were speechless as she turned and watched her walk away. 

Blossom could bite her tongue. She could be professional. She could be the perfect everything nice and fake a smile if needed. But she would and always be Butch’s biggest cheerleader. She was proud of him beyond belief when he got his bachelors in forensics science. He went on to help police officers in the labs and two years later got his teaching credentials and taught students about the mess of a murder scene. He loved it. And she loved how happy he was. 

So yes, Blossom could bite her tongue, but she could smack a bitch too. Princess Morbucks knew that first hand and had stopped commenting on her relationship. 

--

He heard the door slam with a loud shut and was thankful that he had installed those heavy duty door frames. The amount of heat literally sparking from her body was almost threatening to say the least as she set her bag on the table and he threw one of the glass figures they had on the coffee table into the air and she blasted it with a powerful force from her palm. 

He grabbed the small vacuum cleaner and grabbed the glass to make sure it didn’t stay there long. It was a nice routine they had. Get angry, break a glass figure and then drink wine. It worked to say the least. 

“Rough day babe?” He asked before setting the vacuum down and walking to their wine cabinet and pulling out two glasses. 

She was pacing in the kitchen. That was his sign of knowing that she was about to say something he was going to disagree with or love. He was hoping it was love because watching her all fired up made him slightly tingly and there was nothing better than seeing his lady in control. 

She didn’t look at the wine glass placed in front of her. Instead she kept pacing back and forth and he sat on the bar stool and watched. He knew better than to interfere with her thoughts. If she couldn’t think it through, then there was no point. The only time she didn’t run through things is when she kissed him that high school day, he loved that day.

“Blossy?” He asked a minute later and she stopped and looked at him. 

Her eyebrows were knit together and she held this look of uncertainty in her eyes, a rare scene. Those vibrant pink iris sparkled as the sunset came through the window. He wanted to say something coy but he also knew when to bite his tongue, she taught him that. 

“Would you be threatened if a woman proposed?” She asked. 

He was taken back from the question. His shoulders now tensed up but he dropped them quickly as he thought about it. He took a swig of his wine glass and shrugged. “I thought a man was supposed to do that?” 

She bit her lip before sighing and grabbing her glass. He thought again for a moment before talking again. “But then again, what's the big deal? I mean if you love them, then it shouldn’t matter who asks.” 

She nodded. “I agree.” Her shoulders visibly untensed and she leaned her elbows on the counter before rubbing her head. 

“Is that what's bothering you?” He asked before filling her empty glass. 

“It's just-” She took a sip. “The stupid women at the office. They said that a man should never allow a woman to be in control of that. That made me angry but then they said you would never let that happen. That I am always in control of you and you should be allowed to make at least that decision.” She felt a chill go through her body as she avoided his gaze. “You don’t think I am controlling, right?”

He made a combination of a snort scoff thing and just rolled his eyes at the statement. “No, you are a leader, Brick is controlling.” She rolled her eyes. “That's a fact.” He pointed out.  

“It's just sometimes-” He saw that look in her eyes and interrupted her. 

“No, no, no. Don’t do that.” He stood. “Don’t let those nasty hoes have that power over you. So you might have more degrees than me, big whoop. But I’m not some helpless guy who clings onto the success of his girlfriend, that's Boomer’s job.” She ignored the jab at his brother. 

“But do you-”

“Blossom.” He came around and lifted her chin up to meet his eyes. “I am so incredibly happy so please don’t worry. Plus.” He stepped closer to her and pulled her close. “When have I ever been one to complain about being controlled by you?” His eyes narrowed and she blushed. “I think it’s hot.” She slapped his arm playfully and buried her face in his chest. 

“Those women are dumb.” Her voice was muffled by his shirt. 

“Yeah they are. Now have some wine, I’ll be right back.” He left her as he walked into their shared bedroom. 

She took a seat at the high counter and grabbed her glass. She popped open the cork and tried to calm down. It wasn’t fair. Neither of them had the upper hand in the relationship. It was never about sizing up the other one, it was equal. Maybe in certain cases she got her way and he got his and maybe, just maybe, she knew how to persuade him. It wasn’t hard considering she could grab his attention with just the removal of her shirt, but that's besides the point. 

She grabbed her glass again and chugged. What did those women know anyways? Nothing, that's what. 

He came back a few minutes later and sat next to her. Their knees touched as he grabbed his own glass. 

“Do you remember what I told you when we first started dating?” He asked. 

She raised her brow. “That you wanted to see what was under my skirt?” 

His face flushed red as he almost choked on his wine. “No-no.”

“Really because when I asked you out you said and I quote.” She puffed out her chest. “Damn Pinky, I’d be more than happy to be your man because I’ve been dying to see those legs and what's under that skirt.” She said in a deep mocking voice. 

“That wasn’t what I said the day you asked me out though” 

She giggled. “Maybe, but you said that on our first date.” 

“And you let me see.” He said in a cocky tone and she pursed her lips and looked to the side. 

“Touche” 

He let out a laugh. “But that's not what I meant.” She looked at him and crocked her head to the side. 

“Then what?”

“I told you that if you decided that you loved me, that was all the proof I ever needed.”

That small laugh that bubbled from her lips made him smile. She looked at him before nodding her head. 

“And not to care what anyone thinks.” she finished and he nodded before leaning over and kissing her forehead. 

“Exactly.” He smirked before plopping something down on the counter. She looked towards it with confusion before he pushed it her way. “Go on, open it.”

She took the item in her hands. A soft plush box with a simple golden latch. She knew what it was instantly. Sure they had talked about marriage, they have been together for so long that some people just assumed they had secretly gotten married. They once spent a weekend in Vegas and drunk Blossom said that the 24 hour chapel was just across the street. 

She’s thankful that slightly less drunk Butch carried her to the hotel room instead. Marriage has been talked about in serious times and not so serious but at the end of the day, it was something they both wanted. 

The top opened and she stared at the giant diamond ring. It’s sharp fragments sparkled in the light and she felt a tug in her throat. “Butch.” 

“You care so much what people think, don’t give me that look. I’m right and you know it.” He stated and she continued to look at the precious stone set on a silver band. “But I also know that you love proving people wrong and challenging the odds.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

The box was set down and her hands were now in his. “When you are ready, I want you to ask me to marry you.” He said simply. 

Tears came from her eyes as she looked between him and the ring. “But-”

“But what? It doesn’t matter who asks who. I love you so fucking much that I would be an honor to be asked by you. Imagine turning down the hottest, smartest and bravest woman in the universe. I could never.” he winked. 

Her head turned towards the ring and he could see the gears in her head turning. He waited for her answer and was curious about how she would react. He loved that about her. She was constantly full of surprises even when planning it all out. 

He grabbed the box and held it to her. “Or if you would like, I would love to ask you to marry me.” 

She took the box from him hesitantly. It was a rare sight to see her so unsure of herself. She placed it onto the counter before sliding into his lap and hugging him. “Thank you.” She whispered and his arms came around and tightened around her. “I love you too.” 

“Of course Bloss.” He kissed her softly. He stood after they pulled apart and lifted her up with ease. “Now I’m going to show you who's in control.” He whispered into her ear as she let out a giggle. 

—— 

It was a few months later before it happened. She suggested a day trip to anywhere he wanted and she remembered how excited he was about the new beach opening. The warm sun of their skins as they walked down the boardwalk and enjoyed the simple company of each other. It was perfect. 

They sat on the beach, the wild crowds had fizzled out leaving them in a quiet bliss as the sunset that was a mix of pinks and oranges sat on the horizon. 

She turned towards him and smiled at him. She reached into her bag and he laughed a little. 

“Proposal on a beach with a magical sunset? Little cliche even for you.” She only rolled her eyes with a smile. 

“Perhaps.” She moved until she was kneeling next to him and placed a box in his hand. She ushered him to open it and it was the same diamond ring set on a silver band, the one he gave her. 

“Or maybe it’s a rejection.” He forced out a laugh as her eyes widened in horror. 

“No!” She quickly made him get rid of the thought. Instead she held out her own matching box. 

The latch popped open and inside was a silver wedding band. 

“You told me that you would love for me to ask you, but I’ve always wanted you to ask me. And I thought about it for a long time and instead of it being one of us.” She grabbed his hand. “Why not both of us?” 

“So we both propose?” He looked at the pair of rings and back up to her. “I think that’s a wonderful idea.” 

“Alright then.” She bit her lip. Why was she so nervous? It was Butch after all, they had been together for over seven years. She wanted it to be perfect. This moment to be captured just like the movies. 

She felt a hand go on her leg and she was pulled out of her trace of thinking. He sat smiling at her and she felt a little embarrassed at how she always got lost in her head. 

“Why don’t I start?” He said and she nodded. “Well my love. I spent most of my life thinking no one would ever give a damn about me and when i met you, well it was true since i did try to kill you.” He laughed and she only shook her head with a giggle. “I'm not good with words and you know that so bare with me babe.” 

“Anyways when I grew up and got my act together, there was always this blinding light around you. My attention was your the moment I saw you again in middle school. I was always you but I couldn't approach you. I wasn’t worthy of loving you until I became someone I wanted to be. I was so nervous asking you for help that day. Brick told me not to bother but your smile, that damn smile Pink, you were so kind and I just wanted to kiss you right then and there.” He smiled. 

“But you know all that.” He huffed. “Ya know people always asked me what my favorite thing about you was. I mean how do you answer that? How do you tell them that everything from her selflessness and bold personality, down to her eyes and her freckles that only show during summer. You can’t. Blossom, you believed in me when no one else did, not even myself and that what i love about you. You never give up and you make people feel safe and cherish. Plus you are so incredibly hot that I could just take you here right now and-you aren't stopping me? You usually stop me when I’m about to say something nasty.” 

“It's a special occasion.” She shrugged. “But yeah tell me later.” She winked and he took her hand. 

“What I'm trying to say, Blossom, is that I love you. Every up and down is going to have me next to you without hesitation. So Dr.Blossom Utonium.” She smirked at the use of her title. “Would you give me the chance to become the hottest wife the world has seen and allow me to love you for as long as I breath?”

He watched as tears formed in her eyes. “The hottest wife in the world?” She cried-laughed and he wiggled the ring. 

“The hottest.” 

“Yes, I’ll marry you.” She kissed him and he placed the ring on her finger. 

She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes, trying not to ruin her makeup. “Okay my turn.” She grabbed the ring.

“I always know what to do or say but when it comes to you, im left speechless every time. Sometimes I feel like I never know the answer or I'm somehow wrong but if there is one thing I am certain about every single time it's you. My heart guides me without fail and it has always ended up in your hands. Time after time as my sisters were talking about marriage as kids, mostly Bubbles of course.”

“Of course.” He chimed in.

“I wouldn’t add much to the conversation. To be honest, I never thought I would get married, or that anyone would love me. Because no matter who I dated, I was always Blossom. Leader of the Powerpuff Girls and the stuck up smarty pants.” She stopped before taking his hand. “And then I remember when you asked me to tutor you. Those feelings I thought I would never experience happened. You never saw me as the leader, maybe in theory but I was an equal to you and I think that's why it hurt so much when people talked bad about you.” She frowned before sniffing and looking up towards the sky. 

“I was already so in love with you as a teen and I didn’t know how people wouldn't adore you that it made me mad. All I ever wanted was for someone to see me as me, and you do.” Her eyes came back down and he was crying. “So Butch Jojo. Will you marry me?” She smiled.

There was no hiding the tears as he held her hand and was practically shaking. “I love you so much Blossom, I can’t even tell you.” He hugged her tightly before kissing her breathlessly. Her own eyes shutting as tears fell and she threw her arms around him and her fingers threaded through his hair. “Yes of course I’ll marry you.” The words were lost on her lips. 

The sunset behind them stared at each other and basked in the bliss of being in love. Anyone could say what they want, but there was no denying that the pair loved each other beyond belief. 

Blossom could bite her tongue, but she would never stop herself from telling Butch how much she loved him. That was something she could count on. 

--

I hope you enjoyed it!!

[inknose]

mdzs read diary part IV, the end

It’s inspiring how much self care wwx is gonna finally get now that his husband will go along with whatever he does, so he’s gotta look out for lwj’s well being if not his own. that is emphatically the STUFF

dragging my hands down I face as I read this, after all these chapters of getting up close and personal with ghouls bleeding from every orifice, slaying ancient beasts, rebelling against the entire cultivation world, the two of them are absolutely paralyzed by middle school crush sleepover math

chicken

he actually drew kissy doodles .... he....

IDK I THINK I JUST DOCUMENTED THIS PART CUZ I WAS STILL SCREAMING you cant expect me to have very useful things to say at this point

this is torture you are both so mushy you are so GONE

This part really stood out to me, it’s an attitude I feel like wwx implies with his inner narration a few times but most clearly says here: he’s not one for allowing himself to exaggerate how bad his circumstances are/could be even a little bit - he’s already lived through some extreme low points and found a way to keep going, so he never makes sweeping statements about what he couldn’t live without (Inner JingYi: you’re supposed to say you’d be lost without him here!!!) Instead he seems to accept as a given that being alive doesn’t guarantee him any pleasantness or joy at all, and as a result his feelings toward being in TRUE LOVE are surprisingly pragmatic, but also colored with such gratitude. There are a lot of things in the novel that struck me, like this, as being just a little to the left of familiar tropes/sentiments, and were more touching for it. Whether it be the influence of culture difference as opposed to what I’m used to reading in most western romance stories, or MXTX’s unique outlook, or a combination of both, it was really refreshing and made me pause over it. Not “I can’t imagine living without you” but “I could be living without you, but instead I get to be with you and I think that’s the best thing that could happen.”

ADJFDKFJ THE UST BEING SO STRONG THAT EVEN THE VILLAIN COMMENTS ON IT IN THE MIDDLE OF EXECUTING HIS EVIL PLANS IS ONE OF THOSE THINGS THAT WILL NEVER FAIL TO MAKE ME LAUGH MY ASS OFF. hes like god damn! here I thought I had problems

it was at this moment that I realized we were doing this Now... I’m still recovering. What a scene. I am so glad I saw the most incredible fanart soon afterwards, bc the fact that someone has already drawn a perfect comic of this part means I don’t have to

I love you so much, you are so annoying, you are perfect... I like how he’s been experiencing openly requited love for all of ten minutes but he’s already figured out how to weaponize it to piss people off

doing!!! his!!! job!!!!!

ahh... it’s a really good story. JGY is a great character. One of the most interesting differences for me between drama watching vs. novel reading experience is that without an actor to bat his vulnerable doe eyes at you and smile faintly with his cute dimples, the book does not go much out of its way to try to lull the reader into a false sense of security around him or *endear* him to you the way the show does. But just by seeing events through wei wuxian’s POV, its still enough to evoke pity or understanding towards him. The overall impression is a bit more detached though, there’s less emphasis on the spectacle of how he could manipulate everyone closest to him and more of a general feeling of resigned tragedy that everyones the worst on this bitch of an earth.

I CANNOT DEAL WITH YOU FOR EVEN ONE MORE SECOND!!!!

I clearly paused to take note of less and less parts at the end & the extras due to: a) too excited to reach the end b) too spicy to photograph and c) too sleepy cuz I kept reading in the middle of the night. but I absolutely took the time for Bro We Are Teens appreciation corner:

I’d absolutely read 40 more extra chapters of their monster-of-the-week field trip antics.

god... poor Jin Ling now basically has to deal with divorced parents that talk shit about each other to him whenever he is saying with one of them. except they are both his uncles. just a disasterhood of all uncles from start to finish. AUUUGH wei wuxian and jiang cheng have fucked me up completely, I dream of them reconciling but I also REFUSE to believe it would ever be easy. let me know if theres a fanfic that absolutely tortures you for decades before they hug

HAHAHA oh no this man ain’t making it to immortality thats for damn sure. HE’S JUST GONNA TRY AS HARD AS HE CAN HIS WHOLE LIFE NOT TO LOOK AT HIM BUT THEYRE *MARRIED* SDLKFJSF ohhhh it’s too funny, like... the mundane domestic family drama IN the fantastical swords and sorcery setting is what really ratchets up these things from amusing to fucking hilarious I think

aaaa the end... final random thoughts? No not final, I would like to please keep discussing at length and exhaustively, all the time please - CQL has gotta be one of the best TV adaptations I’ve seen. ANY adaptation of anything would be lucky to be so good!! reading the novel has just made me appreciate it even more.

- I don’t think I can do justice to what I find most fascinating about comparing the two versions briefly, to do that I need to get drunk and ramble at my friends for hours but... the condensed version is something like this. Really all the significant differences between the two versions (besides the ones which can be attributed to censorship and therefore aren’t worth discussing) are a side effect of the structure of how the story is told - there’s barely anything changed arbitrarily. Aside from having a cold opening, the drama sticks to a very linear version of the story, and I think for a TV show or film, that’s probably the best way to do it. We see everything, we get shocked and tricked and betrayed and surprised along with the characters, we feel the biggest impact at the climactic scenes having experienced all the build-up. The novel on the other hand is not only much more non-linear in WHEN we learn bits and pieces of information, but that information is also obfuscated under wei wuxian’s multiple layers of Unreliable Narratoritis, which are as follows: 1) difficulty remembering things because of personality/avoiding painful memories/actual memory loss, 2) No Homo Goggles still on, and 3) a wry sense of humor that makes the reader unsure of how much they can trust his attitude toward things, especially near the beginning. The experience of reading is a puzzle the reader has to mentally piece together through all of the above listed camouflage, and the puzzle itself is a three-sided mystery: One - How Bad of a guy was Wei WuXian really, and how exactly did all the bad stuff in his life go down; Two - wangxian epic pride & prejudice gambits; Three - political murder mystery. (I love stories like this btw... though I fully admit I’m glad I watched first this time bc it might have taken me a long time to tackle otherwise.) Because of this, where the drama wants to pull you in and submerge you in all the most potent emotional parts, the novel in direct contrast deliberately side-steps around these things and asks that you hurt yourself by filling in the blanks. In fact the more intense emotions and painful memories involved, whether it be his relationship with jiang yanli, his DEATH, the darkest days of war times etc, the more the novel evasively withholds details. I actually really like both styles of storytelling but each one is obviously way better suited to its medium. ANYWAY.... THATS BASICALLY WHERE MY BRAINS AT WHILE IM READING GAY SWORD WIZARD BOOKS

- The extras are so saturated with domestic married bliss that it’s a good thing I stopped taking pictures because I’d just take a picture of every page. this is too much for me to take... I did jump the gun a few times and read a few fanfics while I was still mid-read of the book (I tried to hold out but alas I am mortal) and at one point after finishing I was like “wow what fic was it in where lwj says something cute and wwx kisses him in public but they’re in the corner of the restaurant so no one really sees... OH NO WAIT that was actually in there.” and ... and that’s the LEAST OF IT... *stares into the distance* theyre married wow

- I ofc couldn’t help but see a few vague blogs beforehand so honestly I was braced for something like, wildly ooc for the sake of porn to happen in the extras... I definitely appreciate how the incense burner porn interludes could be uhhh a lot for many people and not my personal cup of tea in terms of smut however [here follows the words of a poisonous frog who has dwelt her whole life in the rainforests of BL] the concept is also surprisingly SWEET SDFLKJF like wwx sees lan wangji’s darkest mixed-up violent teenage fantasies and he’s just like aww babe you had a crush on me!! just... good for them

- I swear I’m not gonna rehash every cute married thing they do but wei wuxian grading papers in the tub........................rEALLY GOT ME

- I want to Draw - ok thats enough if I keep going I’ll just write “wei wuxian grading papers in the tub” seven more times probably

[robinskey]

In My Mind (Steve x Hopper! Reader)

Request: Steve Harrington x hopper!reader where the reader has mind reading powers?

A/N: I was trying to find a way to connect the reader to the MKUltra experiments (like maybe her mom was an unknowingly pregnant test subject, like Terry Ives), but the timelines didn’t add up. So the reader is the daughter of Hopper and his ex-wife and older sister of the late Sara Hopper. I like the way it turned out, so hopefully you do, too! Thanks for requesting, anon. :)

Any text in italics are the thoughts of others.

Warnings: Some language (it’s all Stevie Babey’s fault, though, so you can’t be too mad about it)

“Are you excited for your first day of high school?”

The words are spoken by your father, who’s driving with the wheel in one hand a cigarette in the other. A thin haze of smoke clouds both the air and your esophagus. Usually, you’d chide him for his unhealthy vice. This time, however, you let it slide; he needed the nicotine to calm his nerves.

When your dad initially offered to drop you off on the first day of the new semester, you resisted. After all, you had your own car, and, considering you’d been able to navigate the big city for most of your life without incident, you were pretty sure you could find your way to Hawkins High. (Besides, as you’d told your father, “the new kid already starts at the bottom of the food chain, even without her daddy dropping her off.”) 

If you were any other moody teenager, you probably would have insisted on driving yourself. In fact, that’s what you were about to do when you felt an overwhelming wave of guilt and disappointment wash over you. The emotions weren’t your own; they belonged to your father. Yet, the feeling was strong enough for you to sense without even trying. Dad plastered a fake smile on his face, but his disheartened thoughts bounced around your head. 

God, you idiot, she’s a senior in high school. Of course she doesn’t want her old man around when she’s trying to make new friends. You’ve already missed your opportunity to be there for all her “firsts”.

“Actually, you know what? It might be nice to have a chauffeur,” you said. 

You’ll never forget how wide he beamed.

Thus, when he refers to the start of your eighth semester of high school as your “first day,” you happily play along.

“I’m excited for a fresh start,” you say, watching as the car passes by a frost-covered field. Despite the bitter cold, the sun shines down on the earth. Bright white patches of snow glitter in the light.

“Me, too, kid.”

Your father’s uncharacteristically quiet tone draws your attention to him. He stares back at you with glimmering irises. You don’t need to tap into this mind to know exactly what he’s thinking-or, more precisely, what he’s thinking about.

***

Once upon a time, you had been relatively close with your father. Your mother worked long hours at the office, trying to climb the corporate ladder, so you saw him a lot more often than you did her. He helped you and Sara with your homework and coached your softball team; the two of you were certified daddy’s girls.

Then, tragedy struck: Your sweet little sister was diagnosed with cancer. Despite their best efforts, the doctors couldn’t save her. Sara’s death wounded your mother deeply, but it destroyed your father. The deep depression into which he fell led to the dissolution of their marriage. 

Because your father was barely in a state of mind to take care of himself, let alone another human being, your mother received full custody in the divorce. You stayed in New York with your mother, and your father moved back to his hometown of Hawkins, Indiana. His decision to leave felt like abandonment when you needed him most.

The two of you spent five years without seeing each other in person. You rarely even spoke over the phone, unless he drunkenly dialed you or you called him-which, after he repeatedly answered with slurred speech, you eventually stopped doing. He missed holidays and birthdays, only occasionally sending a card in the mail, which often arrived several months late, and never invited you to visit.

All that changed in the fall of 1984, when your father invited you “home” for Thanksgiving break. He even offered to pay for your flight to Indiana. Hoping to mend your relationship, you agreed, headed to the airport after school, and arrived in Indiana that same day. Your father was waiting for you at the gate with a cheesy grin and a container of your favorite candy. After a tight embrace and a waterfall of shared tears, you spent the next few days catching up on five years of lost time. He introduced you to El, showed you around Hawkins, and took you to all his favorite places to get a bite to eat. You quickly understood why your dad had wanted to return to this little town; at the end of the trip, you didn’t want to leave it. 

“I want to move here,” you told your father on your last night in Hawkins.

“You can always stay with me.”

He didn’t realize you were seriously you took that offer until you called him a few weeks later.

“You actually want to come live with me?” he asked, shock evident in his tone.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Don’t you want to wait until graduation?”

It sounded like your father didn’t want you to move. But, as Dad later told you, he wanted you to come to Hawkins more than anything. He just wanted to make sure you were thinking things through-that this was actually what you wanted, not what you thought you should do. 

“I’ll stay here until the end of the semester,” you said, “but I don’t want to miss out on another six months of time I could spend with you. I can finish my senior year in Indiana.”

“If that’s what you want.”

It was what you wanted. 

***

At least, it’s what you thought you wanted. The way your stomach twists into a pretzel shape as you pull up to the school makes you doubt your conviction. You ramble about your fears of being accepted as you gather your belongings.

That’s when a firm hand lands on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“You’re going to kill it today, kiddo.”

“Thanks, Dad.” You press a quick kiss to his cheek, then hop out of the car. 

“And remember,” he says with a pointed finger, “if anyone treats you poorly, take note of their name. They may need to receive a visit from the Hawkins Chief of Police sometime down the road.”

You roll your eyes, but a small smirk tugs at your lips. 

“Bye, Sheriff!” you call over your shoulder.

As you walk into the school, you swear you can feel a hundred sets of eyes boring into your soul. Anyone else would have been be able to dismiss it as their own paranoia. However, you could hear the thoughts of your peers even louder than their whispers.

Who is that?

Was that the Sheriff’s car?

Where did she come from?

The rapid-fire unspoken questions continue for the rest of the day. When the bell rings for lunch, you start to panic. If there’s one thing more terrifying than starting in a new school where you know no one, it’s walking into a high school cafeteria when you have no one to sit with. 

Thankfully, a curly-haired girl from your homeroom spots you in the hallway. She invites you to her table with a friendly grin that makes you feel instantly at ease. You chat as you make your way through the lunch line. 

After you get your trays, Nancy leads you to a corner of the cafeteria where two guys are already sitting across from each other, making casual conversation. The one facing you has pale skin and terrible posture. He greets Nancy warmly and smiles at you politely. After his initial reaction of who the hell is this, his thoughts turn more positive: Another girl for Nancy to befriend. That could be good for her.

“Y/N, this is my boyfriend, Jonathan,” Nancy says, taking a seat next to him.

That’s when the second boy finally turns around.

Big, brown eyes lock onto yours. They’re framed by thick, dark lashes. Other than a few freckles, his rosy complexion is blemish-free. And that hair-his mane is composed of fluffy brunette curls that simply defy gravity. 

You’re really glad he can’t read your mind because you can’t stop thinking about how you’ve never seen a human so...pretty. 

Luckily for you, he’s thinking the same thing. 

Damn, she’s gorgeous. Why have I never seen her before? Oh, shit-I’m staring. Come on, Steve get it together. It’s just a girl, and you’re-you’re King Steve Harrington. 

“King Steve Harrington”? Does this guy really call himself that? You chew on the inside of your cheek to keep from bursting out laughing. Steve licks his cotton-candy pink lips nervously.

God, how is she that beautiful?

“I’m Steve,” he says. “Steve Harrington.” 

“I know,” you blurt out. 

Steve tilts his head at a slight angle, confused as an untrained dog being told to sit.

“I, uh-I know your name’s Steve,” you say, which is true. “Nancy told me.”

Did I?

Before Nancy can ask her question out loud, you gesture to the empty spot next to Steve.

“Can I sit?” 

Steve nods, scooting over a bit to make room. Your arm brushes his as you slide onto the bench. Your skin burns, and you’re not sure if it’s due to your own flustered attitude or the heat radiating from Steve. There’s half a beat of silence; even the internal dialogue dies down for a moment. Then, Nancy and Jonathan launch into a discussion about the fourth-period pop quiz. You quickly tune out of their conversation and into the thoughts of the boy next to you.

How long do you have to know a girl before you ask her out?

While no bullies will be receiving a visit from your father, you have a sinking feeling that the sheriff will be having words with a particular student at Hawkins High in the near future.

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[crue-sixx]

Chasing Ghosts

Title: Chasing Ghosts

Fandom: The Dirt 

Summary: Frank comes to your door in tears, says nothing and takes you against the wall.

Warnings: Smut, violence, swearing, abuse mention.

Trigger Warning: Mentions of abuse so if this makes you uncomfortable then please do not read.

In the winter of your fourteenth year, you met Frankie Ferrana.  He was a rough and tumble kid from Seattle who at the time lived with his Nona and Grandpa Tom.  He at first wouldn't give you the time of day but when he saw all the bruises on your body he felt for you.  He gave you some lessons in self defense, if you ever gained enough courage to fight back against your father.  He regretted ever teaching you when you missed school for a week, him going to your house only to see your face busted up.

He eventually went behind your back and called child services on your dad, the day after they paid a visit your father made an executive decision to uproot the family from Seattle, Washington to Montgomery, Alabama.  When you told Frankie about it, he looked so disheartened that he just hugged you and whispered in your ear "Call me, anytime...I'll come get you" you knew his number by heart and you nodded.

The two of you stayed in touch for two years, making weekly phone calls.  When you missed his weekly call, he grew worried and begged Tom to take him to Alabama to come see you.  He declined, the loss of contact continuing for a month.  When the phone blared at 3 in the morning, he knew it was about you.  "Hello? Y/N?"

"No" your sister Gina said in a hushed tone, her being older than you by a few years.  "It's Gina, her sister.  You need to come get her..."

He was on alert now and said "What the fuck is going on?!"

"Last month our father got really mad at her" she was choking back silent sobs "he poured boiling oil on her while she was sleeping..."

Frank didn't know it was possible to have his blood freeze and boil at the same time.  "Where is she?" he said darkly.

"Saint Xavier's Hospital.  Third floor, room 403" she quickly said and hung up the phone.  In the background, he could hear their father demand to know who she was talking to.  Frank knew Tom wouldn't believe him without evidence, so he opted for the less legal option-he took the truck without telling Tom and drove from Seattle to Montgomery.  He gassed up a few times and just drove off without paying, time was of the essence.  He made the trip in just under 40 hours, using empty soda cans to piss in when he had to go.

He kicked the door open to your room, the place being empty save for the patient of course.  He didn't recoil from your burn, the bubbly skin on the right sight of your face and neck, just touching your shoulder.  He unhooked your IVs from your arm, taking the wheelchair from the corner and putting you in it to wheel you out without being caught.

He stopped dead in his tracks when a nurse turned the corner and stared at you both.  He was so afraid of being busted, but the nurse just smiled at him and put a finger to her lips, gesturing that she'd keep quiet about your location.  He nodded his thanks and went on his way with you.  You woke up a little, able to get up and climb into the truck on your own "You came...." you softly cried.

"Gina called" he drive off back to Seattle "Just rest now, Y/N...you need it..." he stroked your thigh, but not in a sexual way.  You laid your head on the window and slept the whole way back.  Tom and Nona were understandably pissed at Frank for stealing the truck, but recoiled the moment they saw your face.  

He let you share his bed with him, both of you needed each other close.  He was kicking himself for letting you leave with your father, wondering how many other injuries he had caused you to get.  While you were sound asleep and dead to the world, he brushed your hair from your face and said "You're so beautiful..." and planted a soft kiss on your lips.

Over the next year, you and Frank had moved to L.A., to get away from his mother, Deanna.  He made sure to include you in all his dealings, and shared his booze and drugs with you.  On many occasions, you two had even had drunken, drugged up sex, both of you too scared to admit having feelings for each other.

It was one night he asked you to be left alone, that he needed to do something by himself.  This was out of the ordinary for him, but  you obliged him.  He had done so much for you, and you granted him this one favor he asked of you.  He had left with a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand, and was back in a few hours.  He banged on the door and when you opened it he pushed you back against the wall and started kissing you.

You returned the gesture, pulling away and seeing that he'd been crying "Frank?  What's wrong?"

He was breathing heavily as he tore off your shirt to kiss your breasts "No..." he pulled down your bra to get at the nipple, teasing it with his tongue "Don't call me Frank..."

You groaned in need, needing him to be inside you soon "What do you want me to call you then?"

"Babe" he reached down into your pants and inserted two fingers inside you "just call me Babe for the moment..."

"Babe..." you sighed, you feeling his fingers slipping in and out of you.  He then bought his fingers up to your lips, you licking one clean and him doing the same to the other "fuck me..."

"Yes, Ma'am" he used his switchblade knife to cut off your pants and panties, you spread your legs to allow him to enter you.  He stepped back to release his cock from his pants, the thing bouncing at the very sight of you naked in front of him.  He pressed you against the wall, and dove right in.  

"Fuck, Babe" you gasped as he roughly entered you.  You could smell the whiskey on his breath, the scent seeming to seep through his skin.  It turned you on even more, you wrapping one leg around his waist.

He grunted "You're always so fuckin' tight for me, Y/N..."

"That's cause nobody else will fuck me with this monster face" you said.  He suddenly stopped and gave you a stern look.

"You're beautiful" he gave a hard thrust, you squeaking from the sudden pressure "the way" another thrust "you are..." he took both your legs in his arms, him being strong enough to hold you up and thrust.

He'd never done this when you two fucked before, so the feeling was new to you.  "Jesus Fuckin' Christ Babe..." you clung onto his neck to help him hold you up "Keep that up, I'm gonna cum..."

"Me too..." a few thrusts later, you felt him twitch and release himself inside you, his hips shuddering as he did so and he let out a loud "Y/N!  FUCK!"

When you came right after him you bit into his shoulder, making him cum harder than he'd ever did while he was with you.  His cock pulsed a few times, releasing more of his semen.  When he caught his breath, he pulled out and let you down.  You reached up and gave him a tired kiss, the both of you having been spent.  You took his hand and went to the couch to cuddle, you in the nude and him having done up his pants.  After a few minutes of blissful silence you asked "What was that all about?"

"Me fuckin' your brains out?" he laughed softly.

"Yeah that," you caressed his thick arm "and why you were crying" you interlocked your fingers with his, allowing him to take his time with answering.

"I called my dad..." he finally said, you looking up at him in disbelief.

"Well what did he say?" you were anxious to hear all about it.

"He told me he didn't have a son" he sniffled "and to never call him again..."

"Oh Babe..." your eyes were sorrowful for him.  He'd told you that he wanted to have a relationship with his father all his life, him only showing up once in a blue moon.  The one time he actually remembered clearly that Big Frank gave him a birthday present was a sled when he was seven.

"I don't want my name anymore" he stated matter of fact "How do I change it?"

"Well you have to go down to the social security office and apply for a name change, bring your current ID and fill out what your name is and what you want to change it to" you had some working knowledge about the issue, you working at the post office in the back sorting mail for delivery.  "What do you want to change it to?"

"I dunno" he said, his mood and voice perking up a little "something cool!  I wanna be a rock star!"

You thought about your ex back in Alabama "Nicky Six?"

He looked down at you and asked "How is it spelled?"

"N-I-C-K-Y S-I-X"

"The name sounds cool, but not with that spelling" he pouted cutely.

"N-I-K-K-I S-I-X-X?" he grinned at you and kissed you again.

"That's so totally metal, Y/N" he put his arm around you, kissing you deeper now.  You could feel his hardening cock in his pants against your thigh.

"Again, Nikki?" you raised an eyebrow at him, he grinned at the use of his new name.

"You're just so gorgeous, Y/N" his hand moved down your body "I can't help it..." you obliged and wrapped your legs around him while lying on the couch.  "Hey..." he stopped, being serious "Wanna officially be my girl?"

"What?" you stopped too, suddenly getting self-conscience about your face "you want to be seen with a girl looking like Quasimodo?"

He sighed, exasperated that you still thought of yourself as unlovable even after he assured you multiple times you looked radiant. "Y/N.  You are perfect, the way you are...I will help you see that" he bent down to kiss you, this time making slow, sweet love instead of a tangled mess of sloppy fucking.

The next few months were peaceful, or as peaceful as they could be with Nikki Sixx, Tommy Lee, Mick Mars and Vince Neil around as your lover and friends.  You were alone in the apartment one night, as you were fighting a bad cold when you heard a knock at the door.  "Guys, I can't believe you're home so early from a show!  Did you totally bomb?" you opened the door to see the man who struck fear into your soul for many years.

"Hey, my wayward daughter" he stepped in, you stepping back out of terror.

"I-I don't think you should be here, Daddy..." you stammered, tripping over the sofa.

"I'm here to take you back home, child" he grabbed at your hair and pulled you up to him.  You screamed and bit his arm, him releasing you from the pain.  You scrambled back to the couch, where you knew Nikki hid one of his hand guns.  He'd given you lessons on how to shoot, and they'd come in handy.  You grabbed the thing and your father had grabbed your leg and was dragging you backward.

"I'm not afraid of you anymore!" you shouted back to him.  "You have no power over me!"

"I am your father!  You are my property!  That burn on your face if proof of that!" he started to lunge forward, but from behind he was pulled back by Nikki, who held his switchblade to the older man's throat.

"She doesn't answer to you, asshole" his eyes were fully black, him pressing the blade to your father's neck drawing blood.  With three more men who were more than capable of kicking his ass behind him, your father relented and stepped back.

"This isn't over, Frankie" he scoffed.

"My name is Nikki" your boyfriend corrected him "and if we ever see your face again, I'll gut you like a fish."

Your father then left, you breathing a sigh of relief and saying "Thanks guys..." you didn't need to say anything else, all of them knowing full well that it was your father who burned your face.  Nikki helped you up.

"You okay, Y/N?" he gave you a once over "You're not hurt are you?"

"No, I'm fine" you assured them with confidence.  "Just shaken up is all" soon people started pouring in for the party, Nikki never leaving your side.  While you were making out with him later, you smelled the whiskey on him and grinned against his lips.

"Wanna fuck?" he asked, taking you to your room.

"Hell yeah!" you screamed against the music, then slamming the door for semi-privacy.

[dbssh]

🌼pick a random oc surprise me

Write a short drabble from your OCs POV meeting their Love Interest. 

😳😳😳😳 ok i havent written in. a while tm and im very much not happy with this but! ive been obsessively working on it for the past two days so i think its time to just Stop and hit post.

Aja had been hiding out in the woods. It was isolated enough to be safe, but still within walking distance of the nearest town. She’d made it her home for the past few weeks, taking a break from travelling for the moment. Winter was coming soon. There wasn’t any snow on the ground, yet, but there was less and less readily-available food. That wasn’t usually a problem for her, but recently it was. There was a stray dog, a big black mutt with short hair and a long face, that had been sticking around her camp since she’d come here. It was a sad, skinny thing, and she always made sure it had something to eat. But today had been particularly cold, a bitter wind and dark clouds on the horizon, and by the time the sun went down, she had nothing. 

The dog nuzzled into her hip as she stood at the edge of the treeline, looking out at the small town not too far away. She took a deep breath, slung her bag over her shoulder, and started walking. The dog followed. 

She slowed down as they neared a fence, the backside of a house. All the lights were out, as they should be at this hour. She stepped around to the other side of the house and found her prize, two metal garbage cans. She made a shushing motion at the dog, before she quietly removed the lid and started digging.

It didn’t take long to find enough scraps of meat and discarded food for the dog to be satisfied, which she was grateful for. She didn’t want to dig around in garbage any more than she had to, especially when she had no idea when she’d be able to clean herself properly. She sat with the dog while it chewed on the bone from a ham, stroking its matted fur. For a moment it was almost peaceful.

The peace was short-lived, interrupted by a loud clanging as something else disturbed the trash cans, something far less concerned with stealth than Aja had been. She stood and stepped over, looking into the can. It was a raccoon, filthy and hardly more than skin-and-bones.

“Get out of here,” she whispered at it, shooing it away. She felt awful for the poor thing, but with the noise it was making, it was putting them both in danger. “Get your own, we’ve already got this one.” It didn’t seem to understand her, and all it did was dig further into the garbage, making an awful noise as it’s paws clanged against the metal. She was panicking, knowing the noise would wake someone up soon if it hadn’t already, and she grabbed at the raccoon, trying to pull it out as it hissed and screamed, scratching at her hands, the dog barking at it as it did. 

The door to the house slammed open, and an older man walked out, holding a shotgun and murmuring about the god-damned vermin. He stopped in his tracks as soon as he saw her, and she froze as she saw him, dropping the raccoon to the ground. 

“What the hell?” he said. Aja took a moment to consider her options, looking from the old man to the gun in his hands, to the street behind him. While he was still sitting there, dumb-struck, trying to figure out what exactly he was looking at, Aja took a deep breath, and broke into a sprint, pushing past him and into the street. She didn’t know where she was running or where she intended to go, but she couldn’t stay here. 

The old man swore as she bolted, running into the street and firing a few shots. Lucky for her the old man was a lousy shot, and in the dark of the night he missed. The noise roused the other houses on the street, lights clicking on in the windows as people woke. 

She didn’t know what to do. She kept running. 

--- 

Parked in an alleyway was a mint-blue pickup truck, with more than a few dents and scratches along the sides and a crack in the windshield. Sleeping in the driver's seat was Hutch. Or at least, they were sleeping, until gunshots rang out through the night and they jumped awake, scrambling to shove their keys into the ignition. They had no fucking clue what was happening, and they weren’t going to stick around to find out. 

As the headlights blinked to life, they caught a figure. She froze in the bright white light, staring directly at them like a deer crossing the road. She was panicked, and tall, really fucking tall, with wild dark hair and all-black clothes complete with a cape that draped over her shoulders. She looked terrified. 

Within a moment she’d snapped out of it and kept running. Hutch leaned out the window and called out after her, trying to get her to wait, but she didn’t stop. Fuck. 

They started the engine and pulled the stupid truck out of the alley as fast as it would go. 

---

If Aja had panicked when the headlights had turned on, she was fucking terrified when the truck actually started following her. She had no idea what was about to happen, but even she couldn’t outrun a car. So when it pulled in front of her and stopped abruptly, she stopped too, ready to face whatever was about to happen. 

She was speechless when the passenger door popped open, and the driver looked up at her, smiled, and said:

“Need a ride?”

“Pardon?”

“I heard the shots. If they have anything to do with you, you probably wanna get the hell out of this place before they start forming a good-ol’ fashioned angry mob,” they paused, still with a cocky grin on their face. “I have a car, if you haven’t noticed, but we gotta get moving. Do you want in or not?”

She paused, deliberating. She could keep going, alone. She’d survive, and she’d find her own way out, and it would be fine. She didn’t need this person. On the other hand… she hadn’t had a real conversation in years. And here someone was, talking to her like a peer, not even flinching as they looked at her. 

Noise of shouting townsfolk echoed down the street. 

“Last chance,” they said, starting to look worried. “If you aren’t getting out of here, I am.”

She took a deep breath, and got in the car. 

---

They drove until morning, mostly silent. There had been some one-sided conversation at first, Hutch asking questions and Aja giving one-word answers, but they’d stopped trying at some point. The radio droned quietly, some country song on the radio, Hutch tapping their fingers on the wheel and muttering the words. 

In the morning sun, she was able to get a better look at them. They were short, with tanned brown skin and a number of scars across their face and arms. Their hair was blond, pink at the tips, looking as though it had just begun to grow out of a neat cut. Their face seemed to be in an almost-permanent grin, their silver eyes twinkling with a mischievous energy. 

And looking closer at them, it became obvious that they weren’t human, at least not entirely. Their ears were pointed and animal-like, flicking about like a cat. Their fingertips had short black claws, and tucked around their waist was a thin, wiry tail that looked almost like that of a mouse or a lion, with a tuft of fur the same pink-golden colour as their hair at it’s tip.

She must have looked for just a moment too long, because they turned to look at her with another stupid grin, and they winked. 

Her face felt hot as she quickly turned away, staring at the window as they laughed. 

“I’m just messin’ with you, you’re fine,” they said.

“Why did you help me?” she asked, changing the topic. 

“I dunno,” they shrugged. “You just looked like you needed help, is all. Anyone would’ve done it.” Their voice was thick with a southern accent. 

“Nobody else did. Nobody else has ever done what you did.” She paused. “Not for me, anyways.”

“Anyone decent, I should say,” they laughed. “Those people? Not decent. Towns like that never are. Don’t really know how to treat anyone different.” 

“I suppose so. Still. Thank you.” 

“Yeah, ‘course.” 

“If there’s ever anything I can do to repay you…” she trailed off, not really sure how to finish that. They looked her over for a minute, their silver eyes shining. 

“Y’know what? There is something.”

“Oh?” She wasn’t certain, but she didn’t think people usually actually took someone up on an offer like that. 

“Sure!” they laughed. “Just stay with me a little while. It gets lonely out here all by myself. Whenever you’re ready to leave, you can go, I ain’t gonna stop you. Just thought it might be nice for both of us to have some good company for a change.” That… didn’t sound too bad. She wasn’t really sure why, but she trusted them. Besides, even if they did try something, she was fairly sure she could take care of it. And they were right, after all. She was lonely. Incredibly, painfully lonely, in a way she had to force herself not to think about. 

“Okay,” she said, after a pause.

[spartanguard]

sick of love (3/3)

Summary: If Emma’s not careful, she just might bump into her soulmate. Physically. And while she might like the idea of what comes with that—an almost psychic connection whenever they make skin contact—she’d rather not deal with the awful withdrawal sickness that can come when they inevitably leave her; she’s got a son, so she doesn’t have time for that. So she keeps herself covered and thinks she’ll be okay. Until she meets Killian, who does the same thing. Will their barriers protect them, or just hurt them more?

CS Soulmates AU | Rated M | 10.6k | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | AO3

A/N: LAST CHAPTER AH. I meant to have this done sooner, but I didn’t get much writing done at camp—so here we are on Friday! It ended up much longer than anticipated, but this is where it earns the M rating. I hope this was worth the wait, and thank you for sticking with it!

As stated before, this story was inspired by this tumblr post. Thank you again to the organizers of @cssns for putting on this awesome event and to @sherlockianwhovian for making that AMAZING art up there!

Wrong.

So fucking wrong.

More wrong than any other time in her life. 

That first night after the collision on the train, she got drunk on Sam Adams and blamed that on why the barrage of text messages from Killian mysteriously disappeared from her phone.

By Thursday, Henry had asked why they hadn’t yet had dinner with Killian that week. “Because you have school now, mister,” worked as an excuse.

And thankfully, she managed to hide her sigh of relief when Killian wasn’t at dinner at the Nolans, supposedly because he was called into work.

Halfway through the next week, Henry asked if they had a fight or something. “Yeah, or something,” was her lame, mumbled response. “It’s an adult thing.”

That was enough to get him to stop asking questions, though he had plenty of comments after the following Friday’s dinner—she decided that would be the best time to track her latest skip and dropped Henry off to stay with Snow and Dave for the night, and her resolve hardened when she saw the Chevelle in the driveway.

“You know, Killian seemed kind of mopey,” Henry told her when she picked him up the next morning. “Kind of like he did when we first met him.”

“He just gets like that sometimes; maybe it was something at work.”

“Maybe; I dunno. It seemed different. He says hi, though.”

He’d said more than that in the texts she kept deleting. Though those were usually something along the lines of Please, Swan—just talk to me.

What she wouldn’t admit was how much those broke her heart.

She wanted to; she really did. She missed him, dammit. But that would mean acknowledging whatever had passed between them as something real, that the whole idea actually had merit, and she wasn’t ready for that level of anything yet. She wasn’t even ready to kiss him, for fuck’s sake; even the title “boyfriend” held more weight than she was ready to carry.

And part of her still was in denial, sure that she’d imagined it because of that little romantic part of her that wanted something more.

She’d learned long ago to ignore that small voice, and she could shut it up again.

She didn’t do soulmates.

*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*

A couple more weeks went by and fall arrived—her favorite. She wrapped up in a scarf on that first day, inhaling the chill in the air and making sure to stop for a pumpkin spice latte. Part of her wondered what kind of scarf Killian was wearing, if he even had one on—and then the rest of her put that idea to rest. 

His texts became more sporadic; she never saw him on the train. He hadn’t been at Snow and David’s the last couple weeks and apparently had been stuck on the night shift for the last month. She was getting better at not thinking about him, but her mind generally wandered in his direction without her realizing it had.

There was a near run-in a week ago at the Chinese place; she saw his name on the receipt of the bag next to hers, and never paid so quick in her life. But otherwise, she’d been Killian-free for a month and was feeling just fine.

See? Nothing to worry about, she assured herself. Maybe in a couple more weeks, she could seek him out again, apologize, and they could carry on like that scare never happened.

But that thought got delayed when she came down with a cold a few days later.

She had a headache that wouldn’t go away and was tired a lot more than usual. The kitchen lights seemed especially harsh and there was a lingering bit of nausea that never quite sent her running for the toilet, but was definitely annoying.

“Are you feeling okay, Henry?” she’d ask every day, checking for a fever and his skin for any clamminess. She just needed to touch him, to make sure he was okay; or maybe she was being clingy because he had just started middle school.

“I’m fine, Mom,” he’d say, shrugging her off. “Are you?”

“Yeah, totally.”

Part of her wondered, when the nausea continued for a week without abating, if she was somehow pregnant again. It felt a lot like the early stages. But immaculate conception had only happened once, to her knowledge, so she had probably just picked up the flu somewhere.

She tried to power through it—even going on desk duty at her bail bonds firm (which she rarely, if ever did), but then her hands started cramping up from all the typing and kind of stayed that way. And good lord, that was terrible coffee in there, but she was so parched that she’d take it. She complained about it to Snow, who gave her a sidelong glance that fell somewhere between pitying and knowing, but amazingly gave no lecture. She just gave her a box of rose-flavored tea and a hug. 

It wasn’t the first time she’d been sick in Henry’s lifetime—no one had that good an immune system—but she felt terrible that it was putting her so out of commission (in addition to, you know, feeling terrible).

“What kind of flu did you give me, kid?” she asked, voice hoarse, when Henry brought her tea in bed on her birthday. 

“Maybe it’s something worse, Mom,” he said, and she could see how scared he was. “Maybe you should go to the ER?”

Cold dread washed over her at the mention of the place (or maybe it was just a chill resulting from the recently developed fever; it was hard to tell). “No; I’m not that bad,” she promised, despite how awful she sounded. “But if it makes you feel better, I’ll go to urgent care.”

There was one on their block, but she didn’t even have the energy to walk that far. Just getting to her car was draining. Her hand struggled to cooperate with the pen while filling out forms, which included firmly checking the “no” box next to the question asking if she had lovesickness. She had the flu—that was it. 

(Not that lovesickness had any true treatment; even at hospitals, all they could do was put a person on an IV of fluids and pain killers until it was done. So there was really no point in an urgent care even asking. Jerks.)

The doctor asked the usual questions—symptoms, how long she’d had them, and a whole bunch of other stuff that was already on the forms—before actually reading what was on the clipboard, squinting, then looking up at her skeptically. “Are you sure you don’t have lovesickness?”

“Positive,” she snapped back. 

He gave her another incredulous look, shook his head, and wrote her a prescription for a generic antibiotic—which was all she needed, she was sure, and not the judgment of some two-bit doctor with bleached hair. 

She felt better the next morning, after medicine and rest; good enough to go to work, so she started to get ready. See—she’d been right! It was just a bug. Nothing crazy or earth-shattering, just a run-of-the-mill thing. 

Or, at least, that was her last thought before the world turned on it’s axis and she passed out on her bed. 

*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*

“Emma, are you sure I can’t take you to the hospital? You passed out, for crying out loud!” She could always count on David’s brotherly instincts to border on paternal. 

“I’ll be fine; I promise. I just need to ride it out some more.”

David huffed, clearly not pleased with the situation. She wasn’t thrilled with it, either, but she wasn’t fit to be Henry’s mom until this thing had ran its course, or the antibiotics stopped making her dizzy—whichever came first. Henry was the one who found her unconscious, though she roused quickly; but it shook him enough that she didn’t want him around while she was still this sick. She’d never forgive herself if she got him sick, too. 

“And you’re sure it’s just a bug?”

“Yes! Oh my god,” she rasped out, though it didn’t sound as convincing with her weakened voice. “Go! Have fun! Make sure he gets to school on time, does his homework, et cetera.”

David sighed again, but she could tell from the slump of his shoulders that he’d relented. “Alright; but make yourself some tea and get some rest. We’ll check in on you—no complaints. And if you don’t answer your phone, we’re coming to get you.”

“Fine,” she huffed; that was fair. Henry shuffled out from his room then, with an overstuffed duffel. For a moment, it reminded her of being a kid and her entire life fitting in one of those as she was moved from home to home; her eyes watered at the memory, but she—and Henry—knew he had a home to come back to; this was temporary. “Be good for your aunt and uncle,” she told him, and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead (which seemed a lot closer to chin than it had the day before).

“I will. Please get better soon, Mom,” he said, worry in his voice and his big brown eyes.

“I will. I promise.” 

She couldn’t get worse, right?

Why did she keep saying that? Famous last words, no doubt. 

Because she’d hardly settled on the couch after they left before another wave of vertigo struck and she nearly spilled her tea (of course, Snow had sent another box over). Though it might not have been that bad if she had, because she was also feeling awfully chilled, despite having two fleece blankets draped over her. (If she just gave it an hour, she’d be dealing with a manic hot flash instead.)

But this was better, she knew—Henry would be looked after and she’d be able to heal without anyone bothering her. And it was kind of nice having the apartment to herself for a couple days; that didn’t happen often.

It got dull fast, though. And quiet, oddly enough, even though she was able to watch whatever she wanted on Netflix (Henry hated Outlander; she didn’t).

It was...lonely. Again. Possibly more than ever in her life. It was one thing to not have anyone, like she had when she was a kid. But now that she had people—David, Snow, Henry...Killian, she had to admit—the solitude felt bigger without them there.

And, really, she had no one to blame but herself there. Old habits die hard and all that. As much as she tried to tell herself it was better if they weren’t around her germs, she could also really go for a hug right about now; wrapping her arms around herself didn’t quite cut it.

But this was her bed (well, nest of blankets on the couch) and she had to lay in it until this all passed. At least she had Jamie and Claire to distract her.

So she pulled the blankets a little tighter around her and settled in.

*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*

The next few days passed in a haze of tea, takeout, and the Scottish highlands, though she had to rewatch multiple episodes due to her worsening state and the fact that she kept passing out in the middle (always right before the good stuff, annoyingly). She managed to reply to all of David’s messages fast enough to not cause worry on his end, but that was almost all she had energy for. Bless whoever came up with Door Dash.

And she wasn’t just tired in general—she was tired of being sick. How much longer could one body take to fight off...whatever this was? It had been nearly 6 weeks, all told. The antibiotic script ran out without taking the illness with it. The tea helped a bit, but getting as far as the kitchen to make it was a challenge with the nausea, vertigo, and tunnel vision she was fighting against.

Thank goodness she had an escape on the TV. 

(There were a few strange instances, though, where her foggy mind twisted Jamie’s Scottish brogue into Killian’s accent; and damn did their blue eyes look similar, even if the rest of them didn’t. She may have had a couple of vivid dreams along that line, though.)

But then Jamie and Claire both got lovesickness in season 3. And art started imitating life a bit too much for her liking.

Annoyed, she turned off the TV and pulled herself up from couch so she could shuffle into the kitchen and get more tea.

Fucking Outlander. Fucking sassenach. Fucking soulmates. Fucking lovesickness. Fucking Killian.

Not that kind of fucking, though.

Wait, why did her train of thought go there?

Trains...soulmates...lovesick...Killian.

Dammit.

She shook her head as she plopped down on the floor of her kitchen, still wrapped in blankets while waiting on the tea kettle. That was probably a burned bridge, if she was being honest. She hadn’t heard from him in at least two days, so she had to assume he’d given up; it wouldn’t be the first time someone did that to her, but it was probably the most deserved. Try as she might, she still hadn’t forgotten what happened on the train, and she still had no logical explanation for it...save for one.

The kettle was starting to hiss but she ignored it. Had she overreacted? In an effort to avoid what she’d feared for so long, had her own stubbornness and walls just pushed her right into it? Was she really in the same position she’d just seen on her screen...was she lovesick?

A knock on the door jolted her from her thoughts, though; it was probably the pizza delivery. She wasn’t even really sure why she’d picked that to order, though it probably had something to do with Killian being on her mind. It took some struggle to pull herself up off the floor, her stiff muscles protesting each movement, but she managed to get upright with only a minor amount of vertigo; maybe she was getting better, after all?

There was another knock. “I’m coming,” she tried to shout, but her voice could only go so loud. As fast as she could manage—which wasn’t very—she limped to the door, brushed her hair behind her ears in a weak attempt at looking presentable, unlatched the lock, and opened it.

But she wasn’t greeted by the smell of dough and melted cheese, or by an annoying teenage delivery boy—no, that was taking its sweet time, as usual. Her heart actually stopped for a brief moment, because on the other side of the door was Killian.

And he looked as awful as she felt. 

“Emma,” he breathed, a faint smile pulling at his weary features, but it faded fast as a cough took over and nearly rattled him off the door frame he was leaning on.

“Killian.” She nearly choked on his name. “How...how did you find my address?” They’d somehow never been to each other’s places.

“David,” he answered. Normally, he would have shrugged, but it probably hurt too much right now. Like her, he had dark circles under his eyes and sheen of sweat on his forehead that his hair was clinging to. He had on a pair of scrub pants and a black sweater under his usual leather jacket, under which his chest was heaving after no doubt climbing the three flights of stairs to her apartment. Oddly, he didn’t have his prosthesis on. “Can we please talk, finally?” 

Even the blue of his eyes was faded, and that was probably what broke her the most. She nodded and stepped aside, leaving a wide path for him to come in.

He stumbled in and she pointed him towards the couch. “Tea?” she offered, trying to be a good hostess.

“Yeah,” he sighed as he fell against the cushions.

As she poured the tea, she didn’t let herself think of the implications of him being as sick as her. Her walls started to go up and she began to rationalize—he probably picked it up at work; god only knows what kind of stuff he was exposed to there. Maybe she’d gotten it from him when they had their collision?

Very carefully, she moved into the living room and set his mug down on the coffee table, before gently sitting down on the opposite end of the couch. “So, you pick up a nasty virus in the ER?” she started, then took a sip.

He cast her an almost annoyed look before reaching for his cup. “I think we both know that’s not the case, love.”

“You don’t know that,” she murmured. “It could be anything.”

He took a sip, then stared at the tea in disbelief as he swallowed. “Where did you get this?”

Now she was the one confused. “Snow; why?”

He snorted derisively. “And it makes you feel better, right?”

“A bit, I guess.”

“Emma, don’t you know what rose tea is for?”

What the heck—did he come over just to fight? She’d understand if he was angry about her ghosting him, but to be so combative? Her hackles were rising. “No, I don’t, Doctor Jones; enlighten me.”

He cautiously set down the mug and then scooted a bit closer to her; she reflexively tried to melt into the arm of the couch. “It’s an old wives’ tale, but said to ease lovesickness.”

She shut her eyes and turned her head. That couldn’t be it—it just couldn’t. Whatever personal revelation she’d been having before his arrival had ran away, buried under her blankets and armor where it belonged. 

She didn’t do soulmates...right?

“You can deny the truth, love, but that won’t make it any less real. And like you just said, I’m a doctor—I know what’s going on. Has anything else helped?”

Not opening her eyes, she shook her head. She didn’t know if she could handle whatever emotion was likely simmering in Killian’s gaze.

“Just what do you think happened on the train that day?” he asked softly, though it didn’t sound like he had another volume.

“I don’t know—maybe we said it under our breath,” she tossed out half-heartedly.

“That’s not true and you know it.”

She opened her eyes to glare at him. “Well, what if I don’t want it? What if I don’t want the universe telling me who’s right for me—what if I want to be chosen instead?”

Despite their dulled color, a spark of fire ignited in Killian’s eyes. “What are you calling the past few months, then?” he spat. “I don’t know about you, but those were some of the happiest of my life, and it was all because of you and Henry. I want to be chosen, too—you know that. But you can’t tell me you’re so dense that you didn’t notice us doing exactly that. And you can’t deny you’ve been happy, too; you’re too much of an open book.” 

He had her there—it was impossible for her to refute it. Even now, despite the distance she was trying to keep between them, she could feel the pull towards him—she’d missed him so much. But was it just because something was pulling strings somewhere out in the cosmos? Could she trust her own feelings? 

“Tell me, love: were soulmates not even a thing, would you hesitate like this?”

That took her by surprise—but then again, everything about Killian had, since the day they met. She couldn’t deny the thoughts and fantasies she’d had about him; those were decidedly romantic in nature. But in her decision to rebel against the entire system, she’d never considered a scenario in which it didn’t exist. There were plenty of people out there who fell in love without it and were happy, but given what she thought she’d had with Neal, she figured it’d be all or nothing for her.

The longer she thought about it, though, her answer became clear: “No, I wouldn’t.”

Cautiously, he smiled, and it looked like he was blinking back tears—but that could have been due to her own fuzzy vision, and she wasn’t sure if it had to do with her emotions or current physical state. “Then why fight it?”

“Because,” she said in a small voice. “What if it’s wrong?”

“Darling, I think we’re well past that.”

She was scraping for excuses now, she knew, and could feel her walls crumbling under his sweet gaze. They weren’t gone yet, though. “What about Milah?”

His brow furrowed. “What about her?”

“I thought you didn’t want anyone else.”

He slumped a bit, but she couldn't tell if that was due to physical or emotional duress; probably both. “Aye, I had thought for a long time that I didn’t want anyone else, that I’d never be capable of letting go of my first love, of finding someone else.” He chewed on his bottom lip and then looked up at her. “That is, until I met you.”

Her breath hitched. There was no going back from a confession like that.

Silence settled over them for a long minute, during which the revelation washed over her. He wanted her—and had for a while, before they made skin contact and ended up here. And the more she reflected on it, she wanted him, too.

She wanted...all of it. Soulmates, happily ever after, the whole shebang.

Oh, who was she kidding? She fucking loved him.

But she was terrible with words—sincere ones, at least. How did she tell him that?

Gingerly, she shifted closer to him; he flinched a little, likely out of the same reflexes she’d honed over the years, but didn’t back away. His right arm was closest to her, and though he was still wearing his jacket, his hand was uncovered. It was a handsome hand, she had to admit—long, graceful fingers, with well-trimmed nails and fine dusting of dark hair on the back. She wondered if the rest of his was just as good-looking. And now, she was determined to find out.

She reached out and tentatively touched the back of his hand; there was an immediate spark at the contact, though, and she pulled back quickly in shock.

Killian’s eyes grew wide and he stared at his hand for what felt like forever; time seemed to freeze around them. But then, slowly, he turned up his palm and looked at her with an encouraging nod and a soft smile.

Emma sat up straighter, as if that would somehow firm her resolve, and took a deep breath. She could do this, totally. (She hoped.)

With a bit more confidence, she again reached for him, and this time, wrapped her delicate fingers around his broad hand. There was still a jolt, but she was ready for it and held tighter instead of retreating. It was immediately followed that same surge of emotion she’d felt on the train: concern, a bit of fear, but most of all—love.

Though she had no idea how this thing worked, she gave it a try. «I love you,» she thought, intensely holding Killian’s stare.

His eyes somehow got even bigger and his mouth parted in surprise, but it only lasted a moment before he was grinning. «I love you, too, Emma.»

Okay, now she really was crying. She never thought she was that kind of sappy girl and usually made sure her tears were reserved for moments that deserved them (Henry’s birth, Snow and Dave’s wedding, and maybe a handful of TV episodes since then). But now? When she was staring at her apparent true love, once she stopped fighting it? All the waterworks.

«Come here,» she heard over their connection, and he pulled her tight to him—though she may have also launched herself at him at the same time, resulting in an audible oof from both of them as they collided against the cushions.

She nestled her head into the crook of his neck and breathed him in. He smelled faintly of rose tea, a lot like sweat, and then, just...Killian. She couldn’t describe it—it was just...him. And it felt like home.

«You smell good, too.»

She winced. «Oh, shit. You weren’t supposed to hear that.»

«You were thinking it rather loudly, love.»

«This is definitely going to take some getting used to.»

«Aye, but I’m up for the challenge if you are.»

«Definitely.»

She sat up, breaking the connection—and found herself immediately missing it. She hadn’t expected that. As soon as skin contact had been broken, her aches and pains began to come back; she hadn’t even noticed they were gone. But that was how it worked, right? The more intense the lovesickness, the longer it took to go away, even when you reconnected.

She was probably going to have to get him naked, wasn’t she?

While the idea of that, and seeing what hid under all those form-fitting layers, was more than appealing, it also made her panic. It’d been so long since she did anything like this; god, did she even remember how to kiss?

Killian had been watching her intently and must have noticed the panic creeping across her face. Cautiously—as if he was approaching a wild animal—he reached up and caressed her cheek. «It’s okay, Emma. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want.»

She huffed. «I don’t even know what I want. It’s been so long; I’m rusty with this stuff.»

«Well, that’s convenient.» He gave her a gentle smile. «So am I.»

She took a deep breath and relaxed a bit, but there was still an urge to do—something. It itched under her skin, the desire to be close to him, especially after he let his hand fall away. 

So, slowly, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. 

There was no hesitation on his end; his lips were firm and insistent against hers, and warm—so warm. Any lingering chill from lovesickness melted away at the brush of his soft lips and the feel of his solid form next to her. Which, if she was being honest, was too far away. Using more energy than she had in weeks, she shirked her blankets and moved to straddle his lap. He groaned at the movement, but made no effort to pull away or stop what they were doing. And really, it gave her a bit of a self-satisfied thrill that she could draw that reaction from someone; guess she did still have a bit of game.

«You have plenty of “game,” love—I assure you,» he told her as his tongue flicked against their pressed-together lips.

«Okay, that was a little weird,» she thought; talking and kissing at the same time would definitely take some getting used to.

«Good weird, I hope.»

«Duh.»

They continued to snog like teenagers on the couch, just like she’d once imagined, until the pizza delivery actually did show up. She pulled away to catch her breath, but left her forehead connected to his. «Hope you feel like Pizzeria Regina.»

«With you, darling—anything. Actually, I’m famished.»

«Who knew making out worked up such an appetite?»

He chuckled out loud and it seemed to reverberate through her entire body; that was something that bore revisiting. But she was starving, too, so she hopped up to get the door before the kid inevitably left.

In the few minutes it took her to pay and get plates from the kitchen, she could feel the lovesickness settle back in at an almost alarming rate. She thought it was just the lingering fatigue, but she must have turned to fast after getting dishes from her cupboard because the next thing she knew, the world was spinning and she was on the floor. The nausea was back full-force and food was the last thing she wanted to think about; all she wanted was—“Killian,” she called out, but it was more of a weak moan than a yell. 

From her prone position where the living room carpet met the kitchen tile, she could see him hop up from the couch, alarm tensing his entire body. “Emma!” he shouted, voice similarly weak, and took long strides to get to her—but she could see the moment it hit him, too, when he had to grab for the back of the couch to stay upright.

He took a deep breath but then fell to the floor, seemingly intentionally but she couldn’t quite tell—her vision was swimming again, and she closed her eyes against the blur. She could hear him, though, and a moment later felt his rough palm cupping her cheek. 

He was speaking out loud, but she could feel his panic through their connection. “Emma, love, are you alright? What happened?”

She blinked a few times before staring up at him; he was hovering on all fours, his eyes darting as he looked her over for injury. The longer he touched her, the better she felt; she wasn’t surprised, but damn, they needed to kick this bullshit.

«Agreed,» came his the echo of his voice in her head, and he leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. «Don’t scare me like that again.»

«I’ll try,» she said, «and I’m sorry.»

«You couldn’t help it, love; no need to apologize.»

«No, not just for that—for everything.» The truth of it was that it was that moment that sealed the deal for her. Other than her family, no one had ever worried about her like that, and the surge of love she felt—both from him and her own feelings—when he gave her that gentle kiss was greater than she’d ever felt. «For ignoring you, for fighting this, for letting us get like this. I’m sorry.» A tear started to fall down her cheek; god, she was officially a sap now.

«Oh, Swan—don’t.» He relaxed down to the floor to lay next to her. «I get it—I nearly did the same a few times, too.»

«You did?» She was surprised how much that shocked her; she was used to it from most people, but not him.

«You should have seen the tests I had my friends in the lab running. Everything from cancer to mono.»

 «I nearly bought a pregnancy test at one point,» she giggled. «Don’t we make a pair?»

He smiled back. «We do, love,» came the soft voice, and he ran a hand through her hair. «We do.»

She couldn’t help it anymore: the combination of his emotions and thoughts were mixing with hers and threatening to drown her; she hadn’t felt anything this intense since...well, since Neal, but now she realized how wrong she’d been then. Killian was coming to a similar conclusion, she could tell, but she didn’t want to think about anyone else right now—just him.

So she hitched a leg over his hips, closed the space between them, and proceeded to kiss the living daylights out of him. And maybe grind up on him a bit. (Was that still a thing people did? God, she was so rusty.)

«I don’t know, and I don’t bloody care as long as it’s something we do.» Even his voice in her head was wrecked, to match the way he was panting. He tangled his legs with hers to bring himself closer, mirroring her gesture; she forgot how good dry humping felt.

Hell, all of this—it was like her body was coming back to life after a decade of disuse. Killian’s touch, minimal as it was through the layers of clothes they still had on, was sending those same sparks from earlier through her whole being, inside and out. She wanted to feel everything he could make her feel—she needed him, desperately. And if the growing bulge his scrubs failed to hide was anything, he did too.

«Only if you want to,» he assured her, taking a break from their game of tonsil hockey to catch their breaths, but he still pressed his forehead to hers. «I know you wanted your pizza,» he teased.

«To hell with the pizza.»

She held him tight with her leg one more time, feeling the press of his growing erection against her core—where a fair amount of those sparks had settled—before pecking his lips, sitting up, grabbing his hand and forearm, and somehow managing to untangle their legs without hitting any sensitive areas. He followed her to standing, and she quickly tugged him down the hallway to her bedroom; if she giggled a bit at the idea of having a boy in her room after so long, well, that would stay between them.

They’d no sooner crossed the threshold than she was back on him, pressing him against her dresser on the adjacent wall and probably knocking some books or something off, but that was the last thing on her mind; she was too caught up in finding the perfect way to grip his hips and the way his fingers were toying with the hem of her baggy T-shirt, grazing the skin underneath. She was starting to understand how a sparkler felt, with the way his every touch drew a spark.

As they continued to kiss, her hands began to wander, too, and found the edge of his sweater (she had no idea when he’d ditched the jacket, but that was also low on the list of concerns at the moment). His palm was resting warm and heavy on her waist, so she followed suit, letting her touch slip under fabric to his skin, and started to slide upwards.

To her shock, though, he flinched away, putting distance between them—though not enough that she couldn’t still see the way his chest was heaving under his (extremely well-fitting, she saw now) sweater. His eyes were cast on the floor and he was clenching his jaw nervously. 

«Hey, what’s wrong?» she asked gently, but didn’t want to make a move if it might jar him more.

«It’s nothing; it’s just that...no one has seen me like this since...since the accident.»

Oh, god—she hadn’t even thought about that. Here she was worrying about her own skills when there were much bigger issues to be dealt with—on both ends, probably. «We don’t have to.»

«No, I want to,» he assured her, finally meeting her gaze again. «I just remembered all of a sudden, and...I’m afraid it’s not all that pretty.»

Well, she knew a thing or two about having scars. But she hadn’t given them much thought until now; they didn’t really bother her all that much. Which, she supposed, meant only one thing. 

«Then let me go first.»

He tried to protest, but she ignored it as she guided his hand up her side, encouraging him to go higher. They both stilled when he reached her bare breast—she’d forgotten she hadn’t bothered with a bra in several days, and he wasn’t expecting the lack of obstruction when his thumb grazed her nipple. She sensed an odd combination of panic and thrill coming from him, and a polite apology started to form, which was when Emma found the lone downside to having an almost telepathic connection with her soulmate: she couldn’t shut him up with a kiss.

«But you can keep trying,» he suggested, winking terribly. His deep chuckle echoed in her mind and goosebumps rose on her skin.

He left his hand on her breast while she shimmied out of her top, moving only far enough away to slip it off and toss it aside. The cooler air plus her growing arousal were evidenced by her peaked nipples, and she didn’t miss the way his gaze drifted south.

And in one swift motion, she slid off her oversized pajama pants, letting them fall to the floor and leaving her completely naked.

His hungry gaze darted around, scanning her body, and for a moment, the same self-consciousness he was feeling slipped in—no one had seen her naked in ages, either, not since before Henry was born; she was by no means out of shape, but pregnancy had left its marks, in addition to all the other ones she’d acquired over the years. For the first time in a long time, she felt somewhat exposed—but the feeling evaporated under his reverent stare.

«You are bloody stunning, love; every part of you.» He pulled her closer and placed yet another soft kiss against her temple; she didn’t think she’d ever get tired of those, or the accompanying wave of love that threatened to drown her with each one. He took a deep breath, then, «I suppose it’s my turn, then?»

«Only if you want.»

He swallowed. «Lend me a hand?»

She giggled. «Of course, but you have to promise to never make a hand joke again.»

«We’ll see.»

She could kiss the smirk off his face, at least, and proceeded to do so as her hands made their way back to his waist and slipped beneath his sweater. Slowly, she dragged upwards, his sweater bunching at her wrists as she uncovered his stomach. She was curious to look, but didn’t want to pull away until she needed to.

Her fingers were the first to discover the hair on his chest as they slid through it; it was thick and soft to the touch—a contrast to the firm muscles beneath. Despite all her dreaming, that was a detail that never quite worked its way into her fantasies—she’d never much cared for it before—but now, it seemed to perfectly fit him. And she was anxious to see it.

She’d gone as far as she could on her own, her hands coming to rest on his collarbones, her thumbs settling into the dips there. Killian took over then, lifting his arms to tug off his left sleeve above her head and not breaking the kiss until he was pulling the shirt off altogether—and then her breath was nearly stolen.

Killian may have said she was stunning, but he was fucking gorgeous. He wasn’t one of those ripped gym rats, like she had once thought he’d be, but he was clearly strong—a solid core and lean muscles, with biceps that looked like they could both hold her hips tight in the throes of passion and then cuddle her close after. Dark hair perfectly covered his pecs and drew a trail down the center of his stomach, disappearing into the scrubs that he absolutely needed to take off. And there were scars, yes—scattered around his upper body, but most obviously at the end of his left arm—but if anything, they just made him more...real.

«Did you doubt I was?» he ribbed. (Which, speaking of ribs, she could just see the outline of his, and knew hers were on similar display—a reminder of how bad things had gotten for both of them; never again, though.)

«I dunno; this all kind of seems like a strange dream come to life.»

He stepped closer and placed his hand and wrist on her waist. «A good dream, I trust?»

«An incredible one, but one that I never really dared to hope for.»

He placed his forehead on hers—another gesture she was coming to adore. «I know the feeling.»

For a long moment, they just breathed each other in and floated in the swirl of their shared emotions going back and forth; she was starting to lose track if the love she felt cresting in her heart was her own for him or his for her. It seemed endless, though, so as long as it never ran out, it probably didn’t matter what belonged to who.

«I can assure you, it won’t run dry.»

«Good.»

She reached for his shoulders again and pressed against him, finding his lips for what felt like the hundredth time—and she hadn’t had enough, not at all, nor would she likely ever. But, as she arched her pelvis up against too many layers of cotton, she knew she’d had enough of these damn scrub pants.

His laughter rang in her head as she ignored any rules of propriety and ran her hands down his back until she hit the elastic band of his pants and dipped under them, right to his bare (well, slightly fuzzy) cheeks and gripped. That brought him even closer to her, his chest hair brushing against her nipples and his erection pressing into her core. 

«These really need to come off.»

«There’s nothing stopping you.»

«Thank God.»

She wasted no time in slipping them off his narrow hips, barely waiting for them to hit the floor before she was changing their direction, only pausing long enough for him to step out of the legs lest he trip, before she was pushing him in the direction of her bed. The back of his legs hit the edge of the mattress and he tried to sit, but she stayed on top of him until he fell back against the bed with her straddled over his hips. She could feel his cock pressing against her waiting entrance, but not at all in the way she wanted—no, needed him.

«Can’t I properly lavish you, my love?» he enquired coquettishly as he massaged her breast with his hand and brought her closer to his level with the other arm. «I want to make you feel good.»

God, that sounded amazing, and she wanted to reciprocate. But him pulling her flat to his chest had just made it more painfully obvious that he wasn’t inside her, and that was all she wanted. She was more than ready—he had to be aware of that—and logically, she knew that was the fastest way to dispel whatever was left of their lovesickness. (That, and she’d gotten a good look at his shaft when she’d pulled his pants off and—damn.)

«Next time—I promise.» She was panting with want. «But right now, I need to feel you.»

He nodded; he was just as breathless. «Okay; where do you want me?»

«On top.»

«As you wish.»

Smoothly, he flipped them over so that she was flat on her back and he was hovering above her, propped on his left forearm. He placed one last, long kiss against her lips, then sat back on his haunches to ready himself.

A bit of nervousness snuck in here—she really hadn’t done this since...well, probably not since Henry was conceived. She knew she needed to lift her hips up a bit and would need to help him out, but did she remembered how to set the rhythm? How to meet him thrust for thrust?

«We’ll figure it out together, love,» he said with a soft smile and gentle caress of his blunted wrist on her thigh. He was a bit nervous, too, but knowing they were in the same boat made it all the easier.

And then she watched as he stroked himself and anything other than desire faded away. Her own fingers unconsciously drifted to her clit and began stroking, needing some sort of relief.

When he was ready, he shifted forward into the open embrace of her legs. «You ready?»

«So.»

«Can you…?»

“Yeah,” she breathed out loud; it still took some conscious effort to communicate nonverbally and her brain power was becoming increasingly limited. But she sat up enough to take her own hold of his velvety cock—one she could not wait to take in hand and mouth at a later date—and guided it to her entrance, circling it gently.

They were both a bit anxious about what came next—would it feel like the first time all over again?—but she nodded at Killian to go ahead, and he slid inside in one smooth motion.

Oh, God—she’d forgotten what this felt like. Yeah, she had her toys, but nothing could replicate the feel of the real thing: the heat, the smell, the emotion. This was exactly what she needed—exactly who she needed.

«You feel bloody amazing, darling.» They hadn’t even started moving and already, he sounded wrecked.

«So do you, oh my god.»

She pulled him down by the neck to kiss him again, taking a long moment to get used to the feel of him, even though in some ways, he felt familiar—like he was a perfect fit.

«I mean, we are soulmates,» he reminded her.

«Yeah, but I didn’t think that applied to body parts, too.»

«I fail to see any negatives here.»

«Oh, definitely not.»

He turned the attention of his lips to her neck, tickling her with his stubble, which made her squirm—and then gasp, because it drew just the slightest bit of friction where they were joined together. And it felt incredible.

«That good, eh? We barely did anything.»

She wrapped a leg around him and pressed her foot against his ass, moving him again. «No more teasing; just move.»

It took longer than she’d care to admit for them to figure out the right pace—being soulmates didn’t mean they were automatically in sync (which was probably descriptive of their entire relationship)—but they eventually got there, to a point where she could meet him at every push and he found the perfect angle to hit every sensitive point inside. He groaned when she clenched, and she moaned whenever he pressed hard enough to brush her clit. And in no time at all—but also possibly forever? Time was weird—she was near the edge of release, so close to falling off. 

«Let go, Emma; I want to see you come.»

«I want you to go with me.»

He let out a deep exhale. «I’ll try.» 

He picked up the pace and her already racing heart struggled to keep up with it, but in the end, she couldn’t; she reached her peak and crested it with a shout, fireworks going off behind her eyes as he continued to thrust into her.

It didn’t take much longer for him to follow her, though, and even though she was caught up in her own rapture, she could feel him stutter as he climaxed and spilled into her. (Good thing she still took the pill, if only for the cycle regularity.) He was dangerously close to collapsing on top of her but still, she held him tight with her legs, as if he might disappear if she didn’t.

But he was done depressingly soon, and her legs were no match for the dead weight that was leaning against them as he fell to her side on the mattress. Every part of her was tingling, as if each cell in her body was renewed after that. She cracked an eye open, and despite the dim light coming through her bedroom curtain, Killian was nearly effulgent as they lay there in the afterglow. She knew they needed to clean up, and probably text David so that he knew they weren’t dead, but that could be dealt with later; right now, she just wanted to soak this in.

Killian reached across the short distance between them and pulled her tight to his chest; she was right—those biceps were perfect for being held. «How was it?» he asked shyly.

«Only the greatest orgasm of my life; how about you?»

He smirked. «Roughly the same, I think.»

She placed a gentle peck on the scar on his cheek. «I love you.»

«I love you, too.» He sighed and snuggled into her neck. «Now what?»

«We’ll deal with that later,» she sighed. «Right now, this is perfect.»

*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*

«You were wearing this when we met,» he thought as he wrapped himself around her from behind, adorably resting his chin on her bare shoulder.

She was getting dressed—after round 2, where they did get to lavish each other, then round 3 in the shower—into a very familiar blouse and rather unseasonable pair of shorts; he’d only gotten as far as his pants. 

«Mhmm. This is what I was going to wear, until I found out some random guy was gonna be there. Couldn’t run around exposing myself like that, now could I?»

«I don’t know; might have saved us a lot of time.»

She turned in his arms and hugged him tight, loving the feel of his warm skin under her palms. «No, probably not. I was nowhere near ready then.»

«And now?» he asked; even if they weren’t communicating verbally, his facial expressions—including the signature quirk of his eyebrow—remained the same.

«Ready for anything.» She emphasized it by rising on her toes to give him a quick kiss. «But if you don’t get a shirt on soon, David is gonna send a search party.»

«Let him,» Killian smirked, and made a move to plant a kiss on her neck that she narrowly dodged, only by jumping away; of course he’d noticed she was ticklish there.

“I’m serious, Killian!” Now that she was getting used to their telepathic connection, it felt like was the first time she’d used her voice in ages; at least she was laughing as she chastised him. “I walked in on him and Snow enough and as much as I might like the idea of revenge, I do NOT want to subject Henry to that.”

He brushed a tendril of hair off her shoulder, but left his hand there and gave her a beyond cheeky smirk. «It’s bound to happen at some point.»

She just rolled her eyes. «Put your damn shirt on.»

Somewhere in there, they had let David know they were alive and would be heading over shortly. They made no mention of the other, though; Killian would join them later, after he went home to change, and honestly—they just wanted to see the reaction, especially from Snow. She did worry a bit about Henry, but knowing how good they were together kept her concern to a minimum. 

After Killian pouted some more but eventually complied with her request for clothing (one of the few times she’d ever have to ask, she hoped), she drove him over to his building—which really was close, but he’d taken a Swyft to her place. They shared a quick kiss goodbye and then she was alone. 

It was surprising how quickly that empty feeling came over her again now that she was by herself—how quickly she’d gotten used to his presence, particularly over the last few life-changing hours, but the past months as well. Hopefully, the cops weren’t around, because she pressed the gas pedal a little bit harder—she couldn’t wait to see everyone again. Now that she knew for a fact there was someone else on her side—that she didn’t have to isolate herself anymore—she didn’t want to at all. 

At least it was a short drive, and Henry was waiting for her on the front porch when she pulled up to the house. “Mom! I missed you!” he shouted as he ran for her, then grabbed her in a bruising hug. God, it seemed like he’d grown half a foot in the last few days. 

“I missed you too, kid.” But it took the same amount of effort as usual to kiss the top of his head, so at least she hadn’t missed anything. 

She did feel a bit guilty that she’d still managed to succumb to the one thing she’d worked so hard to avoid, but at least she knew it would never happen again. 

“You’re all better now?” he asked in a hopeful voice. 

“Yup; all better. And I promise to not let myself get that sick again.”

“Good. I was ready to sick Killian on you.”

She snorted; that was not something she was going to try to verify nor dispute. And he didn’t notice, thank God; it was bad enough he knew what cockblocking was. He just dragged her to the backyard, where Snow and Dave were waiting. 

Their immediate grins turned over to a bit of shock, probably at her outfit; she was definitely dressed for summer, and while it was unusually warm for the last week of October, it was barely 70 degrees. But she hadn’t felt the breeze on her skin in so long, and hey—she had a point to make. 

“Well, don’t you look...summery,” Snow assessed as she gave her a hug; David was, per usual, at the grill. “Oh, but I forgot to tell you: Killian’s coming too.”

Snow was a terrible liar: she hadn’t forgotten at all. If the not-so-hidden gleam in her eye was any hint, this was yet another matchmaking scheme. But Emma could play along this once. 

“Oh, okay,” she shrugged, feigning disinterest. “I’ll keep my space.”

Henry was catching her up on what he’d learned at school that week and the latest drama with his friends when Killian arrived. She was trying her damnedest to keep up with what Henry was telling her about his science class, but Killian’s presence was exceedingly distracting—especially with the way he sauntered in wearing a form-fitting t-shirt that both hugged his biceps and revealed a peek at his chest hair, and khaki shorts that showed off his calves. Even though she knew what lay underneath all that, she could still feel the pull of arousal.

She turned her focus back to Henry as Killian greeted Dave and then Snow, trying her best to play it cool. If that was a thing she could still do (probably not). But it was like every part of her was in tune with him now, and couldn’t help but react when he made his way over to the table they were sitting at.

“Is this seat taken?” he enquired, nodding at the chair next to Emma.

“Go ahead,” she said, unable to keep a hint of a smile off her face.

But he didn’t get a chance to sit before Henry had hopped up and wrapped him in a hug, too. Any lingering worries about Henry’s potential reaction immediately disappeared as she watched the tender interaction between them, on both their ends—they’d both clearly felt the absence of the other, so now she was feeling a bit guilty instead.

Like she’d told herself earlier, though: it wouldn't happen again.

They took their seats on either side of her—Killian on her left, Henry on her right—and Henry relaunched his stories. Aside from some light footsie, they hadn’t made contact yet, though his arm resting on the surface of the table was only inches from hers. Eventually, Henry realized that all the parts of Killian’s prosthesis were exposed, so that gave her an opportunity to make a move, when Killian was leaning over the table to show it to Henry.

Surreptitiously, she let her forearm touch his, where he was bracing himself on the table with it. The only indication he gave that he noticed was the brief straightening of his spine, but she immediately sensed his emotions again—happiness, a bit of hunger, but mostly love.

«I missed you,» he told her while Henry was inspecting the mechanics of the prosthesis.

«It wasn’t even an hour,» she teased.

«Are you trying to tell me you don’t feel the same? Because I can tell that’s not true.»

«No, I definitely missed you, too.»

The connection was broken when he sat back down—when Snow brought the food over. She proceeded to mother hen them as she distributed the food, making sure they were both feeling better—and asking some pointed questions about the rose tea.

“Yeah, it did help a lot,” Emma gushed.

“Aye; thank you, milady,” Killian added, ever the gentleman.

Snow seemed pleased, but there was still a level of concern in her manner that anyone could see; she didn’t think her plan was working, to which Emma hid her smirk in a bite of hot dog. (She could see wheels turning in Henry’s head, though.)

She and Killian continued to act cool to each other through the meal, save the occasional brush of the leg under the table (which was mostly to laugh at Snow’s matchmaking attempt).

Finally, Snow left with Henry to take the dishes inside and David cleaned up the grill, leaving them alone. She put her shin against his leg again while pretending to look at her phone.

«Do it when she comes back?» she proposed.

«Yeah, but wait for her to set the pie down; I’d hate for her to drop it.»

«Good point.»

And so, casually, once Snow had brought the pie to the table and made the first cut, Emma wrapped her hand around Killian’s and waited for everyone to notice. 

“Emma, do you want ice...OH MY GOD.”

There it was: the reaction they expected from Snow. She’d dropped the serving knife, which landed with a clatter on the table, and was staring at their joined hands with wide eyes and jaw hanging open. Eventually she blinked and slammed her mouth shut, but continued to stare at them. 

“But—you were—” she stammered, a pointed finger drifting between the two of them. “I thought—I didn’t—”

Emma was trying really hard not to laugh and could feel how amused Killian was, too. David just looked confused, and Henry was a bit slack-jawed, though she could tell it was in a good way.

Then it was like a lightbulb went on in Snow’s head, and she turned to David. “I called it! I totally called it!”

She then fell into girlish squeals while David, instead, levied a wary eye on Killian. “Is this why you wanted their address?”

“Um, yeah.” 

David squinted. “Do I want to know?”

“Probably not,” Killian answered.

Henry piped up. “Do I wanna know?”

“Absolutely not!” Emma cut in.

All eyes were on Henry, though, as he stood and walked around Emma’s chair to Killian.

“Do you love my mom?” he asked, with all the severity a 10-year-old boy could muster.

“I do,” Killian said, and it almost sounded like a vow.

“And you promise not to hurt her, or to run away on us?” She didn’t miss the way he said “us”; she was a little surprised they hadn’t discussed it, but Killian knew he was getting a package deal—he had from the beginning.

“I’d rather be sent to the depths of Hades.”

«Drama queen,» she told him, but Killian’s eyes only flickered over to hers for a moment as he continued to hold Henry’s stare.

“Okay then,” Henry nodded, then seemed to think for a moment before launching himself at Killian again. “Welcome to the family.”

She didn’t need their connection to know how that made Killian feel: his eyes grew wide for a moment, but then they closed and he returned the hug full-force. She’d had the same reaction when she was adopted all those years ago; and though this was a totally different situation, it was still the same emotion.

Snow wanted all the details, obviously, and David and Henry wanted none, so they complied until the sun set and it was time to go home, both of them feeling the chill in their weather-inappropriate wardrobes. 

They stood by their cars, locked in an embrace—both because of a desire to stay close and desire to get warm. 

«Well, that went reasonably well,» he decided.

«Yeah, pretty good. I expected a bit more screaming though.»

«Same,» he chuckled.

«When can I see you next?» This was the part she wasn’t looking forward to; they weren’t in any danger of lovesickness again—not if she had anything to say about it—but there was still the reality that they had different jobs and different homes. (For the time being, at least.)

He shrugged. «We never got to enjoy that pizza. Maybe we try again tomorrow night?»

«Sounds perfect.» She underlined it by rising to her toes to place a lingering kiss on him.

“Are you guys gonna be like this all the time now?” Henry called out from the other side of the Bug, eyeing the two of them suspiciously.

“Yup,” she yelled back. “Get used to it.”

“Ugh, fine,” he grumbled, but it was half-hearted; she could hear the happiness in his voice.

«Well, we shouldn’t try to scar him too much.»

«That’s a change in tone from earlier.»

«I didn’t have his approval yet. Didn’t you hear? I’m part of the family now.» She could really fell his joy at that now.

«You already were; you know that, right?»

«It’s nice to have confirmation.»

«Yeah, I know.» She kissed him again. «And I hope you never doubt it again.»

He was the one to pull her close this time, stealing her breath with a kiss that she hoped would get her through the next day. «Not as long as I have you. I love you.»

«I love you, too,» she sighed. «Onto the next adventure?»

«After you, love.»

*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*

It wasn’t like a switch was flipped and they were just happy-true love all the time. There were still bumps in the road, they had their share of fights, and their past fears and walls still haunted them on occasion.

Several months passed before they moved in together—months that didn’t look all that different from the previous ones, save for the regular sleepover. They couldn’t decide whose apartment to move to, but Henry was the one to quash that dispute when he found a house for sale a couple streets over from Snow and Dave.

They were almost always touching when they were together, and even more so once they lived together—and their connection only grew. She didn’t realize that it could, but the longer they were together, the more impossibly in tune they became.

And she finally got to experience shared dreams—for real this time. And it was mostly amazing, but people with baggage like theirs didn’t only have sweet dreams; they had nightmares, too. More than once, she saw the crash that took Milah, and Killian saw Neal’s death several times. The worst ones were when the two became melded together and they dreamed about losing each other; those were the nights they came together to make sure the dreams weren’t real—to feel the other there.

Granted, that wasn’t the only time they got it on—they did that fairly regularly and with vigor, which was probably why their daughter, Hope, came along sooner rather than later. 

(But not before Snow got to plan their wedding, at least. They’d been right: she started the binder the day they met.)

All told, it was...perfect. It was both everything she expected and nothing like it, and she wouldn’t have it any other way, even if it had taken her so long to warm up to the idea.

«You just hadn’t met me yet,» Killian teased, standing behind her on their patio and looking out over their backyard. Snow and David were there, with their son Leo toddling after Hope and Henry chasing them both around. Maybe it was a cliche, but she was pretty sure this was what happily ever after looked like.

«Nope, I hadn’t,» she confirmed, and pulled his arms a bit tighter around her. «I love you.»

«I love you, too.»

*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*

thank you so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed it!

tagging some peeps: @kat2609 @thesschesthair @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @amortentia-on-the-rocks@mryddinwilt@cocohook38 @annytecture @wingedlioness @word-bug @fergus80@pirateherokillian@bleebug @its-imperator-furiosa @killianmesmalls@effulgentcolors @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @stubble-sandwich @killian-whump @lenfaz @phiralovesloki @distant-rose @athenascarlet @kmomof4@ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose@snowbellewells@idristardis @scientificapricot @let-it-raines @shireness-says@courtorderedcake @its-okay-killian @captainsjedi @a-faekindagirl