#like my boy pull yourself together and get up from your knees ffs

[idiotwithoutagoodname]

Oscar: The only thing I regret was leaving him alive.

Arthur:

[sailorhyunjinz]

~ 𝐁𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐞𝐚 ~

𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝; SMUT!!! a smidge of angst and a lil fluff, felix x fem!reader. enemies to fwb, bullying!!!, highschool!au, blowjob, pierced!felix, mentions of complicated family relationships/bad economy, felix being rude lmao, PIV, unprotected sex (use protections ffs, this is a bad example), orgasm (m/f), cum, nicknames, shy reader, fingering. 

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝; 6.6 k 

𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎; Consent is like tea or my personal favorite,,, tea slut HSAHSHA PLEASE im- anyways enjoy both tea and consent, both very very sexy and good for you

also,,, my first kinda long fic?? 

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺; Lee Felix. The class bully. Also the son of a wealthy business man. You didn’t have the same privileges, living alone at such a young age. After an arrangement Felix invites you to work at his fathers old tea shop but this relationship turns into something unexpected.

The cold wind blew on your exposed calfs, the skirt of the school uniform fluttering as your backpack was lazily thrown across your shoulder, your head turned to the direction the bus comes from. You were not the only one on that bus stop. Other students standing at least a feet apart from each other, all eagerly waiting to hurry back to their comfortable homes, eat dinner and start on their assignments.

You on the other hand had other plans. 

What was on your computer screen wasn’t the typical essay or sheet of physics questions. It was job applications. And lots of them.

A notification arrived, your phone vibrating in your coat pocket and as the screen lit up you saw a message. 

[ Rent due today y/n, have it in by 8 ]

Living by yourself in a dusty apartment that contained nothing more than a bed, a desk and a tiny kitchen overfilled with noodle packets was nothing to be proud of. You could barely afford that type of lifestyle since you were a student so how on earth were you gonna get rent in to the old lady that served as your landlord? 

You sighed, the packed bus rolling slowly on the way and stopping, there barely being place to stand in the crowded vehicle. 

Your apartment was right above an old tea shop, the owner being a wealthy man that owned several shops on the block. His busy lifestyle including buying and selling properties kept him away from his true passion in life; tea. What scared you was his resemblance to a person you knew. A person you knew too well. 

Lee Felix

His only purpose in life was to have fun. To ruin others. And he had every opporunity to do so. His report card was nothing but lies and money, his fathers wealth being able to buy him decent grades without lifting a finger. There was one, only one, instance where the young boy would try his best and that’s when intimidating others. His best skill. Those piercing dark eyes and knife-sharp jaw could leave anyone shaken for days. 

But do you know who his favorite person to bully was?

You. 

All the hurtful memories eventually started to merge together but one stood out clearly to you. It happened a year ago. You walked into the sunlit classroom, your other classmates sitting around their desks, chatting and showing each other photos, laughing happily. Friends was not something you had, more like acquaintance. The students you would greet and exchange a couple of words with but nothing more. Your assigned seat was in the third row, the one sitting right behind you being Felix himself. With a quick glance at the clock you looked underneath your desk, searching for the book you needed for english class, your eyebrows furrowing as you searched desperatly, turning every book over and ripping open your backpack, did you forget it at home?

“Looking for this?”

The cold voice sent a shiver down your spine, you slowly turning back, afraid of what evil gaze awaited you. You gulped as you saw his angular facial structure, his cheekbones pertruding as he held your english book in his hand, the arms of the white school uniform shirt being rolled up just enough to show off his blinged out watch, veins softly trailing upwards on his flexed arms. 

You nodded to which Felix scoffed. Sighing you stood up, standing at the side of his desk and all of a sudden throwing yourself over it in a quest of snatching it from his grasp but failing epically, you falling down onto the floor, scraping your knees on the rough wooden flooring of the classroom. You try to stand up but was quickly stopped by Felix grabbing your face with his other hand, his wrists decked out with multiple delicate chains, all jingling with his movements. 

Meeting his gaze made your skin crawl, his eyes almost animalistic as he looked deep into your innocent doe-eyes, smirking. His blonde hair falling on each side of his face, framing it like a renaissance painting since his stoic features was art in itself. Your eyes lingered a bit too long on Felix’s making the boy annoyed, before you knew it a clear liquid was spilling down your cheek, that not being tears but instead Felix’s spit. You flinch back as he waves the book infront of your face, tears jerking in the corner of your glossy eyes due to the humiliation, your other classmates forming a circle around the two of you, unable to do anything since that could mean the end of them. 

“You want this, you want it so bad? What’s that angel? You’re gonna cry?”

He crouches as your gaze lowers to the floor, hair hanging infront of your face as a shield from his degrading words as the tears started pouring out of you like water, mixing with Felix’s saliva. He laughs psychotically, the cold laughter echoing in the classroom, tiny specs of dusty floating around like bubbles in a fizzy drink. The bold boy puts down the book on the floor behind him before he raises his hand, you shutting your eyes tightly, expecting the worst but being surprised as his hand laces in your disheveled locks. He pushes a strand of hair behind your flushed ear, leaning in close enough for you to feel his breath hit the shell of your ear. 

“I’m gonna give it to you,,, but I want something in return”

You snap your head up to look at him, your eyes wide open, eyebrows hightened. 

“W-what do you want?” you say, only for him to hear.

Felix hums, running his tongue in the inside on his cheek before speaking in a low voice.

“You”

You choked on your own spit, coughing as you turned away from him. You could hear his laugh ringing in your ears and after your coughing fit you turned back hastily, eyes as big as saucers. This couldn’t be true, this couldn’t be what you though it was. In sheer panic you once again tried to snatch the book, crawling on the floor like a bug in order to snake around his back to have a chance to grab the corner of plastic outside of the textbook but being met with disappointment when Felix slammed his foot on it, you retracting your hand after being mere inches away from his shoe. The boy tsked. 

“I expect you at the school gate by the end of the day and if you don’t show up you’re gonna pay for it, understood angel?”

You nod, just nod. No words or mimicks. Simply a nod. His intimidation wiping the entire alphabet from your mind. 

He stands up, grabbing the book and throwing it at you before exiting the classroom, a evil smirk plastered on his face. The sharp gazes of other students around you made you want to escape but you couldn’t, class was starting in 2 minutes. 

♡ 

The sun shone it’s rays on your face, students exiting through the wide white metal gates. You ran your hand through your hair, pulling the straps of your backpack impatiently at you looked left to right, seeing the flowers blossom out in the rather windy weather. Suddenly your wrist was grabbed by a hand wider than yours.

It was Felix.

His closeness made you gulp loudly, a lump nestling into your stomach as you felt your anxiety rise, scared of what he might do to you even if you did find him strangely attractive even though he was a complete asshole. But who didn’t? The entire school was ready to give up their life in order to even be this close to the boy, girls and boys alike. You shook your head, wanting to get rid of the silly thoughts that clouded your mind. Only after minutes did you realise that your legs moved on their own, you being dragged by Felix, his hand still on your wrist. 

“W-where are we going?” you inquired, the wind blowing on the blonde pierced boy, his angelic hair bouncing with every step. 

“Don’t worry about it” he said, not speaking a single more word during the entire time he held your wrist and walked with you in the spring weather. 

All of a sudden the two of you were standing infront of the tea shop, you lifting your head to glance upwards at your dusty window that was right above the tiny wooden sign that said “Tea Shop”, swinging rustily back and forward. Felix retrieves a key, unlocking the corrodated wooden door, the color matching the sign above. 

“Wh- how do you know-” 

Felix hushes you, closing the door behind you before throwing the keys on the counter. 

“I don’t care about what you have to say. My father owns this place and I usually hang around here whenever it’s closed.” 

“Do you work here?” you asked with a voice filled with curiosity. 

Felix starts laughing his signature laugh, it being laced with nothing but iniquity. 

“Work? Do you think I need to work? I’m the only child of a wealthy family, I’m pretty much settled for life”

You nervously look down at the floor, only being in the tea shop a couple of times before it was closed for business.

“Well,,, I know that your father owns this place, I live in the apartment just above so-”

You were quickly cut of by Felix slamming his hand on the table, standing behind the checkout counter and leaning over it with his two arms as pedestals. 

“Why?”

You looked at him confused before your eyes gazed across the wall of glas cabinets displaying their finest china. Teapots with squiggly handles, painted with the utmost attention to detail, the colors of the scenes painted contrasting nicely with the eggshell white background. Small lamps were installed above each teapot, illuminating the work of art even more. 

“Why what?” you said back, still in trance from the beauty of the teapots.

“Why do you live alone?” His eyebrows raised.

“I never said that!” 

“y/n, that apartment is barely enough for a fucking mouse, there’s no way you could live there with someone else”

Damn, how did he know that? You had no other choice but to nod timidly, curling your hand into a fist.

“Don’t have the best relationship with my parents and since they aren’t wealthy like yours I have to do my best to find a way to support myself” you spat out at him, annoyed at his many questions. 

“Touché” Felix said shortly, shrugging his shoulders.

After a long moment of silence the blonde boy spoke again;

“Let’s make a deal, I’ll get you a job here and I’ll join you but only because you’re stupid and need my help, not because I want to be here”

Your eyes light up, like an excited child you dash toward the counter and place your hands near Felix’s, looking at him with twinkling eyes. 

“Really? You would do that?”

Felix nods.

“But don’t get too excited, you haven’t paid your end of the deal yet”

“Tell me! I’ll do anything, I promise!” you says quickly, smiling widely at Felix’s deadpan face.

“Suck me off”

Your previously bright smile faded in a matter of seconds, now turning into pure confusion. 

“Wh-what? I can’t do that! Are you crazy?!”

Felix scoffs, walking towards the door in a cocky manner with his black backpack over his shoulder, wearing black ripped jeans that were strictly banned in school but no longer warned to Felix by the teachers. The schools logo embroidered on the white flowy shirt that was unbuttoned, exposing his brand name t-shirt. 

Just in time you managed to block the door, his lips inches from yours as he sighed, smirking down at you. 

“I’ll do it! I will do it!” 

You blurted out, you had no other choice but to do it. Seeking other jobs had been impossible since you were only a student without any work experience, not having many other skills other than procrastinating and sleeping. You needed this in order to survive. You needed him. 

The boy pushed you against the entrance door, placing his forehead against yours. 

“Of course you will” Felix whispered in a voice deeper than the ocean, causing you to helplessly gulp and drop down on your knees, them hitting the floor with a thump. His small but veiny hands reached for his belt, unbuckling it in a swift motion, metal hitting each other. You were lost deep in thoughts, simply staring at his crotch whilst rethinking your every life decision. Wondering how on earth you got to this point, soon having your mouth stuffed with your bully’s dick. 

Thank god that he was at least hot. 

Felix popped his dick over the band of his underwear and as if you hadn’t had enough surprises today one last one awaited you. A silver metal barbell lodged right beneath his pretty red tip, his dick already hard as he gave it a couple of pumps. Your mouth fell agape, cheeks heating up as you struggled to keep a straight face. Felix being the tease he is had to comment;

“What? Bigger than you thought?”

You scoffed from his boldness, not believing your ears. 

“N-no! Get over yourself you ass”

“Enough talking princess” Felix said in a deep voice, rubbing the tip of his leaking cock on your plushy lips, them being coated with a layer of saliva from you repeatedly lickning them out of nervousness. 

There was a moment of awkwardness, you not being sure where to place your hands before you grabbed the base of his girthy dick, pursing your lips and latching them onto the tip, sinking down gradually in order to not choke immedietly, not wanting to embarrass yourself even more than you already had. 

Felix let out a strained groan at the sensation, you feeling the cold metal as you flattened your tongue, licking a fat strap on the underside of his cock earning yet another groan. The blonde laced his fingers in your hair, tugging on it slightly in order to control the sinful sounds dripping out of his mouth. You whimpered against his dick, there barely being any room to breath as your nose was hovering just above his abdomen, impressed by your own gag reflex but that didn’t last long, Felix now shoving your head down his length, making you choke. 

“Wow, is there anything you can do right? Can’t even suck me off properly”

You can only hum in response, sending shivers down Felix’s spine from the vibrations, the boy feeling the knot in his stomach tightening. The hair flies in front of you face as you bob your head down his cock that was equally as veiny as his decked out arms, feeling the metal hitting your bottom teeth a couple of times. Tears teased the corners of your eyes as you were throat deep on Felix’s member, your hands slightly sweaty from the butterflies in your stomach. Eventually Felix started to weaken in your grasp, small grunts escaping him as you hollowed your cheeks, mascara staining your heated cheeks. 

“f-fuck,,,yes just like that,,ah-”

Luckily for the both of you the shop was located in a rather desolate area of town therefore no bypassers saw the scandalous view through the door that was decorated with a small foggged window. But did Felix care? Not really, the boy was bold enough to get sucked off in public if the opportunity presented itself. 

You looked up at him with the most innocent eyes you could muster, spit starting to dribble down your chin and landing on your skirt, forming slightly saturated patches on the fabric from the wetness. The blonde boys useless comments didn’t make it any easier to withstand this agonizing process. 

“Ah,,, never thought I would be seeing you like this, thought I had degraded you enough but this is just another level of humiliation, isn’t it y/n?”

The hand that was previously tangled in your hair was now moved to your stained cheek, him carefully swiping his thumb across the warm skin but you furrowed your eyebrows, swatting his hand away causing him to scoff before being interupted by his own loud moan, you pulling off and kitten licking his tip, coaxing his impending orgasm. 

It didn’t take long before the boy was shutting his eyes tightly, his jaw slacking as a last low vibrational growl ringed in your ears, his eyes still piercing yours while the thick white liquid spilled out of him, coating the metal bar and seeped into your mouth, your dry lips now getting a coat of clear gloss, the rest dripping down onto the floor and your dark colored skirt. 

You shook your head as you looked around the shop, not wanting to spit out his salty seed right on the floor but Felix simply shook his head back at you, grabbing your face gently. 

“Swallow”

Goosebumps erupted on your skin from his intimidating voice, as if you’d been cast under a spell you nod, swallowing the droplets of cum harshly, the sound of your loud gulp causing Felix to hum and with a smile, ruffle your hair before zipping himself up and running a hand through his own hair, exposing his forehead for just a bit. You stand up on your own, legs wobbling as you don’t even expect the rude boy to help. 

“You start tomorrow after school, my father will only be happy to know that someone actually want’s to work in this shithole. I’ll join you but once again, not because I want to but because your stupid head will mess everything up.”

You nod, only now noticing how scruffy the rest of the teashop looked, moving boxes piling up like the dust in the windowsills. You jerked your head to the side, eyes wandering all over the place, everywhere from the wittering plants to the miscellaneous stacks of files. 

The both of you step out of the dusty shop, the cool air hitting your cheek, now remembering the makeup that was running down it. Without saying a word Felix tries to escape but you stop him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t turn around, staring at the road ahead of him. 

“Thank you”

You whisper out, your hair fluttering in the wind, feeling yourself getting emotional from his seemingly sweet gesture. Felix starts walking, the sound of his footsteps getting fainter as the disappears down the sunny asphalt road, leaving you standing infront of the shop before you go behind the shop, entering your burrow of an apartment.

♡ 

You walk to the teashop in the floral spring weather, wondering where Felix had been all day since he wasn’t in school this wednesday where lectures went in half speed. Arriving at the shop everything was surprisingly closed. You peeked into the window, standing on your toes as if that would improve your vision but gave up quickly after, only seeing the scene from yesterday, the same old piles of rubbish. 

A light tap threw you off guard, you yelping and jerking away before noticing the blonde hair, Felix greeting you with a jingle of keys in his hand.

“Wanna have the honors? I mean, it is your first day after all” 

You respond with a small “yes” before grabbing the keys from his hand and unlocking the entrance to the stuffy teashop, coughing as you step in from the dust that twirled all around the two of you. You walked over to the sad plants that were placed haphazardly in the windowsill, swiping your finger over the leafs and closely examining the dust that rubbed off, blowing it away softly before turning to Felix that was nearing the pile of random files. 

“Looks like we have a bunch of work to do before we can actually brew tea” 

He didn’t smile, visibly annoyed. Felix went into the back, behind the beaded curtain he retrieved a bucket of cleaning supplies. 

“You mop the floors, I’ll clean some of the heavy stuff away” 

Felix said, his voice still in that notorious deep tone. 

“Not fair? There’s not even a mop which means I’ll have to do it by hand?” 

Felix scoffed, throwing a old rag at you before turning around and grabbing a moving box filled with god knows what. You sigh, grabbing the bucket and emptying the contents, the brushes and strangly colored bottles of cleaning solution spreading across the counter before you went behind the beaded curtain, being met by a murky kitchen that hadn’t been cleaned in what seemed like forever. You sighed, looking around and opening cabinets only to be met with half broken porcelain and cobwebs, the shelf at the top displaying a multitude of metal cans filled with loose tea that had probably gone tasteless. With a disgusted face you close the cabinet, instead filling up the bucket with water and adding dishsoap in lack of other cleaning substance. 

Hours ticked by, Felix sighing and huffing out of annoyance when carrying out and sorting through countless boxes while you cleaned the floor and dusted every corner, the shop transforming right before your eyes. The two of you eventually ended up in the kitchen, you observing every cup for cracks and disposing of those that showed just that as Felix was washing those that you thought looked presentable. Felix tried his best to not drop the cups despite his slippery fingers in a pathetic attempt at trying to do the dishes, it was clear that he had never in his life had to do this which made you roll your eyes, thinking about the boiling anger you had at this pompous and spoiled boy. 

“Do you like living alone y/n? ” 

The question was rather unexpected, making you choke on your own saliva. Never in your life had you thought that he cared about you. You shrugged your shoulders, wanting to appear unbothered.

“y-yeah, I wanted to be more responsible, I mean we are adults soon and nothing is served on a silver platter but I wouldn’t expect you to know.”

Felix smirked, seeing right through your lie but choosing to not taunt you. You felt vulnerable from the question but instead of continuing the awkward silence you wanted to get to know him better, maybe he wasn’t such a dick after all, maybe his tough guy personality was only a facade?

“What’s with that piercing?” you said, pointing at his groin with your chin making Felix laugh, getting shy from your question but snapping back to his cold outer self. 

“It was a bet and as you can see I lost” he scoffed before continuing, “wanna see?”

Your eyes widened, cheeks heating up before stammering out;

“N-no, Felix you’re disgusting!” you say in desperation for an answer but Felix only laughs even more, almost annoying you. 

“Well it wasn’t so disgusting when you were sucking me off, have you forgotten babygirl? Maybe I should teach you your place again.”

You gulped, not answering but instead just staring at him, a cup frozen in your hand as Felix locks his eyes with your, tilting his head in a cocky manner. You harshly place the cup down, storming out into the area where racks upon racks displayed the many tea sorts that were stashed away somewhere in the shop, Felix retrieving them earlier in the day. You start sorting through them, seeing a paper with orders on a clipboard and deciding to check the different kinds. Everything from oolong to pu’er to herbal was lined up in both teabags or loose tea leafs and surprisingly Felix did a good job, everything displayed in pretty and uniform lines. Before you could put a dash for a variety of tea that was missing. Felix sticks his head in between the beaded strings of the curtain, his eyes twinkling. 

“Want some tea?”

For the first time he seemed cute. Not scary or intimidating, just cute. By the way his blonde locks fell infront of his face to the way his earrings were jingling, fading out to his angular facial structure. 

You nod shyly, placing the clipboard on a random shelf before scooting over to the kitchen, seeing that Felix had placed out a white teapot with cobalt blue details, a floral pattern that contradicted to the eggshell white base. On the counter stood a small brown paperbag with black tea and right next to it a small tray of white sugarcubes. 

“This seems awfully complicated for making tea” you say, looking at the red kettle boiling on the stove, there not being an electric kettle in this old establishment. 

“What you expect? That I’ll be satisfied with you serving some watered down tea from a teabag? There’s a process you know.”

“Wow, and this is coming from Lee Felix? The son of a rich man and also the schools scumbag?”

Felix snaps his towards you, previously looking at the piping hot kettle. He licked the inside of his cheek, exhaling sharply through his nose, turning his cheek towards his shoulder, a momentary pop being heard before he looked at you with his dark eyes.

“I’m being nice, take that to your advantage and I’ll break your kneecaps”

You nodded and he smiled, astonished by the duality of this man. 

“Are you just gonna stand there? Come closer”

You stepped closer to the counter, your breath hitching when you felt Felix’s chest again your back, his hands leaning against the counter and trapping you between the two. You swallowed harshly, eyes darting over the various equipment needed to make a simple cup of tea. 

“Open the tea pot maybe?”

Felix said, sighing. You feeling his warm breath against the outer shell of your ear, his voice sounding even more dangerous when it was right beside you. You grabbed the blue detailed teapot and opened it, only to see a metal strainer already a part of the pot. Doubtfully you grabbed the little packet of loose leaf tea, removing and placing down the clip that was hindering it’s aroma from escaping the luxurious leafs. The fragrence of the tea hit your senses, the smell almost addictive. 

“What tea is this?” 

You said, turning the bag in you hand, looking for any type of lettering that would bring you closer to an answer.

“Russian earl grey. It contains bergamot orange making it more pungent”

You hummed, being to scared to turn around and face him, you now zoning out whilst your eyes were stuck on the awfully colored tiles on the kitchen wall. 

“You’re supposed to drink it y/n, not smell it”

Felix stated causing you to snap out and notice that you’ve been holding the bag to your nose, scrunching your nose ever so often. 

“Oh yeah,,, right,,, sorry. How much should I put in?”

You say, tilting the bag and slowly watching dark colored particles spill into the metal strainer. Felix slowly put his hand on yours, tilting the bag even more. You could feel your heart in your throat, your hands starting to sweat from his close proximity. His hand was warm for such a cold person. 

“It’s supposed to fill up one third of the strainer, remember that”

You mewled out a quiet “yes” as he put the bag down, removing his hand from yours. The next step was obvious, filling up the tea pot with hot water. Just as you were about to grab the black handle of the shiny red kettle Felix smacked your hand away, him grabbing it instead.

“It’s hot and I can’t trust someone as stupid as you with it”

“I can grab a kettle you know? I’m not that weak-”

“Shut it”

You pressed your lips shut as Felix pressed himself against your back, carefully reaching and pouring in the steaming water and seeing the water droplets diffuse up into the atmosphere. He carefully put the lid back on the pot and backed away as he put the kettle back on the stove, turning it off. 

“What do we do now?” 

You asked, turning around and leaning your butt against the cold counter.

“We wait for 5 minutes, the steeping time is different for different teas, you’ll have to learn them when working here.”

You nod attentively, staring down at your shoes and turning your heels against the dark wooden floorboards. 

“I wanna change the deal y/n”

Your head shot up to the blonde boy, him standing close by in all his glory, not wearing his school uniform but instead a black t-shirt, of course having a obnoxiously loud designer logo in the front just like the belt that was resting on top of his black slacks. His bracelets jingled everytime he moved his hands, this time wearing dainty silver rings to match with his wristwatch and shining piercings. 

“W-what why? Are you gonna fire me?”

Blood was boiling in your veins, not knowing his intentions yet but knowing that they were just as sinister as the boy himself. Before you knew it his lips were attached on yours.

Your heart skipped a beat, knuckles whitening as you held onto the counter from sheer panic. His lips were softer than expected, pressing gently as he tilted his head, his eyelashes feathering over his closed lids. His hands traveled up your clothed body, exploring every inch of you. The soft sound of lips smacking against each other ignited a feeling deep in your core. You were pushed closer to the edge of the counter, his body so close, leaving you with no choice but to jump up on the metal surface. The coldness radiated through the thin fabric of your pleated skirt, hitting your aching cunt that was already dripping from Felix’s simple actions, his daunting aura clouding your mind with sinful thoughts. 

“I’ll raise your pay if you fuck me, please y/n”

He whispers against your plush lips. You hummed, hesitating before slowly nodding, not being able to think clear with your heart beating like it’s about to protrude from your chest. He smiles slyly before reattaching his lips onto yours, his wet and sharp tongue running over your swollen bottom lip, desperatly wanting to taste your tongue. Your lips parted as you moaned into the kiss, giving him the perfect opportunity to pry himself into your mouth, the kiss getting sloppier, Felix growing needier as the seconds on the large clock on top of the door frame ticked. The blonde boy placed himself inbetween your legs, his veiny hands placed on your knees, seperating your already shivering legs. Without knowing what you were doing you cupped Felix’s cheeks, feeling the sharpness of his jaw against your soft hands.

Why did you pull him closer? He’d hurt you so bad in the past, everyday was living hell because of him and his deeds. A lightheadedness hit you as memories scrolled past your consciousness. Memories still painful, tender as open wounds. But for him you could forgive anything. Forget, just to see him smile at you.

His cologne was strangely addictive, the musky smell mixed with the scent of his soft sunkissed skin. You moaned softly against his lips as his fingers traced lightly over your exposed panties, the skirt already folded up your thighs. He hummed in delight, feeling the soaked fabric sticking against your pulsating cunt. 

“I’ve waited for this for so long y/n”

You looked at him with confusion in your glossy eyes. Waited, for you?

Within a matter of seconds his fingers pushed aside the wet patch of fabric shielding you from the cold air, only to insert a finger inside of your desperate hole causing you to gasp. A second finger joined close by and Felix groaned, feeling your tight walls around his glistening digits. You had so many questions but not enough power to say them without stuttering.

“W-waited for,,, m-me?”

His fingers curled upwards as you finished your sentence causing you to grip his wrist, the squelching sound of your pussy pleasing the blonde boy as he pumped his fingers into you relentlessly.

“That’s how I get attention. You aren’t impressed by materialistic things so I did what I had to”

You couldn’t believe your ears. All that to get your attention? He succeeded but he would never understand the emotions you went through because of him. The hatered you thought would never melt away suddenly did, you becoming nothing more but a whimpering mess from his touch. 

A thump was heard from your head hitting the cupboard, the pleasure firing through your body as your small cries echoed throughout the small kitchen. A sudden feeling of emptiness caused you to sigh in both relief and frustration. Your previously shut eyes slowly drifted open, panicked when you see Felix unbuckling his belt, letting both the fabric of his pants and underwear fall to the dim floor. 

Somehow his leaking cock looked prettier this time around, the shiny piercing distracting to the eye. Your mouth watered embarrassingly enough, turning your gaze to the ticking clock until Felix cleared his throat, his adams apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed his spit. He looked nervous which was unfamilliar, the boy always being persistant with his cocky mannerisms. Felix pulled you closer to the edge of the counter, your face heating up as your legs were spread wide open for him. There was nowhere you could hide your flushed face and Felix took this to his advantage.

“Huh? Shy, babygirl?” 

You gulped as you watched him stroke himself, the crimson colored tip disappearing only to reappear seconds later. Your eyes shut tightly as he moved the slick-stained panties to the side, anticipating to be filled to the brim from his impressive size. Mouth agape, Felix pushed into your wet hole, your hands gripping his broad shoulder in order to hinder a loud moan. 

“fuck y/n,,, you’re so tight, s-shit”

You couldn’t answer, still adjusting your velvety walls around him. As the pain subsided your core ached for friction, needing to feel him deep inside of you. Your arms wrapped around the boy, pulling him closer to your heated body making him smirk slyly before carefully pulling away, only his tip resting inside of you. Just as you were about to sigh due to emptiness he slammed inside of you, your entire body shaking from the impact. Panting, you begged for more, begging for him to go faster.

“F-felix! faster,,, please”

Your warm face was buried deep in his shoulder, his slightly cold hands gripping your hips tightly, starting to roll against your throbbing cunt earning small mewls from between your swollen lips. The counter creaked with each thrust that grew louder as his pace got faster, feeling your delicate walls clench around his veiny length, his silver earrings dangling from his lobes. Felix explored parts of your body even you hadn’t felt, his dick prodding you deep enough to make your eyes roll back into your skull, biting down on his shirt. 

The sound of skin slapping echoed in the room, your weakening legs wrapping around his figure, trapping him inside of you but the blonde boy had no plans of stopping. Sweat beaded around his temples, his previously serious expressing turning into a grin as he adored your moans, words falling out in incomprehensible syllables. You were close and so was Felix. 

The pit of fire grew violent deep in your core, holding the young boy tighter to your body, clawing his clothed back. Every thrust had it’s impact, shaking you up and forcing shameless moans out from your throat that were being muffled by the fabric between your lips. The two of you moaned in unison, Felix’s deep mutters getting louder, his vicious thrusts becoming sloppier and uneven, desperate for his sweet release. You clenched around him involuntarily, trying to hold back from screaming, glad that your warm face was between his shoulder and neck so that he couldn’t see your fucked out expression. His name rolled off your tongue like a mantra, mind blank as your eyes were squeezed shut.

“Felix, i-im gonna c-cum! im-m cumming!”

The wall seperating you from your orgasm collapsed, leaving you with a powerful sensation washing over you. Your legs shook, struggling to keep your legs wrapped around him but soon enough you wouldn’t have to. Felix thrusted into you one final time, sending a shiver down your spine and overstimulating you before pulling out, his dick glistening with your erotic juices as he fucked his hand, hot spurts of cum leaking out. He growled, scrunching his forehead as he released on your shaking thighs, one last droplet of cum descending down his shaft and coating the shiny piercing that decorated his pretty cock. 

You panted, still processing what just happened, looking at Felix that unwrapped his hand from around his member, dick turning flaccid. You lifted yourself off the counter, only then realising how weak your legs were, not letting go of the surface you just fucked on. 

“Is this a one time thing or,,,” 

You start, not really knowing what to say afterwards. Felix cleared his throat, putting on his pants as you fixed your dark skirt, back against the boy.

“Let’s be friends”

You turned around, gazing at Felix as he looked down at the grimy floor.

“I’ll stop,,, bothering you, now we’re friends,,, with benefits but it’s a secret, understand?”

Every sentence this man spoke sounded serious with his deep voice but this was serious, for real. 

“Why should I? Why should I agree, Felix? So that you can play around with me even more, make me your little shy puppet? I’m not having it!!”

You yelled at the boy, his expression deadpan as you hit him in the abdomen, instantly regretting it as your knuckles hit his rock hard abs. Frustration clouded your mind, wanting to break every single piece of porcelain in the narrow kitchen. Instead you broke yourself apart. Crying in front of Felix like you’d done so many times before, dropping to the floor and feeling the cold material against your bare thigh. This feeling, so familiar. Felix gazing down on you like you we’re worth nothing more than the ground. 

Only this time he didn’t only stand and stare. 

His arms wrapped around your quivering figure, his embrace warmer than his face. 

“I’m sorry, y/n”

His voice shook as the silence overtook the both of you, the quiet ticking of the clock interupting. 

“Hm? Look at me, y/n”

Felix pulled away from you, sitting on the floor next to you, watching your head hang low as he gently put a hand on your jaw, lifting your gaze up to meet his. 

“I’m fucking stupid, I know. I shouldn’t have hurt you like that but,,, I didn’t know how- how to get closer to you.”

He swiped the rough pad of his thumb across your cheek, wiping your tears. 

“I will never hurt you ever again, y/n. We- we can work here and just,,, do stuff.”

You knew exactly what he meant by “stuff” but somehow you trusted him. You trusted him because you had no one else to trust. 

“But one rule” he said.

You tilted your head, wondering what his rule was.

“No falling in love”

You hummed, nodding as you wiped your tearstained cheeks with the sleeves of your shirt, cracking a smile at your own vulnerability. Felix stood up and you looked up at him, feeling small but not afraid. 

“So what do you say, y/n?”

He offered you his hand, you couldn’t stop looking into his secretive eyes that slowly turned mellow. 

You grabbed his hand, passing it as a yes to his question. 

But the both of you knew that the rule would be broken soon, like the brittle edge of a teacup. 

[fatui-gf]

Childe x Dom!Reader

this work will contain femdom, slight bdsm, bondage, light degradation and overstimulation, so if you're uncomfortable with any of these, don't read!

the reader IS NOT Lumine or Aether, they are an adventurer from the guild but have no relation to the protagonists of the game, they are over the age of 18

Everyone knew Childe as somewhat of an unpredictable and dangerous man. He was quite the problem childe, easily ending up in fights, getting a kick from danger. That's what really got him excited, the uncertainty if he'll even make it alive. Always ignoring all of this pain, sometimes even enjoying it which he wouldn't like to admit.

But he felt something special, something more while fighting with you. There was something so alluring about the way you would move and gracefully use your weapon of choice while still remaining gentle about it. He could see that you never wanted to hurt him, even though you knew he was trouble and a fatui, not the guy to be trusted.

As the days went by, you've developed an interesting relationship. Childe would surprise you when he got the time, taking you out to eat or just have fun in the city, always being the one to pay for everything, of course. Gods, this man loves spoiling you.

Slowly, this turned into a friendship but you wondered if this could turn into something more. He would sometimes make dirty jokes or some suggestive remarks but never something that would make you sure that he's into you. He looked like a player after all, he was quite hard to decypher.

This day, you were in your apartment in Liyue, you've just finished cleaning yourself up after getting done with the commissions for the day when you saw a familiar man's face looking at you through the window, standing on your balcony as if this was normal behavior.

As soon as he saw you, he started tapping on the glass, wanting to be let in. You sighed and opened the balcony door. He just laughed nonchalantly

"Hey girlie, long time no see" he said with a smile on his face.

You wanted to ask how he got up there but then realized that it might be better not to. You shot him a small warm smile.

"Are you bored again or injured from. a battle?" you asked.

He laughed "Not this time, I wanted to be better and was more careful this time, for you. But I can see that you like acting as my little nurse though, huh? Do you really love me this much?" he giggled softly, teasing you.

You felt warmth on your cheeks. Again not being obvious, this man... Trying to hide your initial response, you just rolled your eyes and sat on the bed. He followed, still not taking his gaze off of you. He rested his hand against his cheek with a grin. He looked so adorable, it was hard to believe that he was a fatui harbinger.

"You know, I've been thinking a lot about you lately. You have no idea how much I've dreamed about those hands of yours around my... I meant to say, your hands intertwined with mine"

Wow, was he bold. You didn't know how to interpret this but you've had enough, all of this teasing and remarks, it drove you insane at this point. You firly grabbed his chin, positioning it so that he would look directly at you. There was no turing back from this point. You could see his eyes widening from surprise and a pink flush appeared on his face.

This boy was so caught off guard and damn, did he look absolutely adorable like this.

"Playing rough with me, girlie? Just don't be surprised if I bite back" he teased you again.

He truly was a one hell of a brat. It filled you with excitement, how endearing it would be to tame him.

"As I expected from a dog like you, all you ever do is bark and threaten to bite but as soon as I'd raise my voice, you'd turn into a puppy".

Childe felt his length harden in his pants. You could notice it too but focused on his embarrassed expression.

"I'd like to see you try, make me" and so he provoked you.

You gently pushed his shoulders so that he fell on his back on the bed. You started to kiss him deeply while undoing his shirt and tossing it aside.

You could see all the healed scars on his stomach as well as two pink nipples. You gradually made your way to them, sucked and bit on them resulting in a few moans escaping Chile's mouth.

You then unblucked his pants, paying attention to his glowing vision. It looked so pretty glistening in the rays of setting sun. You gently put it away, trying not to damage it and just wondered if using it in some form to play would be too much. You then used his belt to tie him to your bed.

"Confident, are we?" he laughed, his blue eyes staring at you from underneath his long eyelashes.

"I'm just doing what had to be done since long ago, you're always talking, always looking like the cocky guy but truth be told, you're just a little bitch when someone finally knows how to handle you properly".

You could see him gasp, probably never been told something like this before. But saying that it didn't arouse him would be a lie.

"Then turn that little bitch into your bitch" he winked at you.

You removed his pants and looked down at his bulge. You slightly poked it with your foot, slowly stroking it which made him breathe more heavily, a few moans escaped his lips. You kept going as you took off your top and later your bottom, keeping only a beautiful new lacy lingerie. You wanted to just feel fancy today, chilling at home feeling confident in yourself with this new set on but it turned out to be so convinient.

He practically could eat you with his gaze, he loved how it looked on you, you looked like a goddess. You then pulled down his underwear, allowing his dick out, it was pink and very erect, leaning towards his stomach. You placed your hand on it, caressing it with your fingers and you could feel the precum on them. You looked at them and then at Childe and put your finger in his mouth, making him taste his own precum. Due to the humiliating nature to what you've just done, he would like to admit that he got off to the taste of himself but he did. He closed his eyes and sucked on it. He looked so desperate.

You went back to touching his member, picking up on the pace and put a few fingers inside his ass. This made him moan the loudest and you could see his eyes get a little bit teary.

"Y/N please-" he somehow muttered between the moans.

You were practically milking him at this point, going rough with no mercy.

"Please what? Use your words."

He felt so embarrassed but managed

"Please make me cum, please- I feel like I'm so close, I will do everything to you, I'm your personal slut".

It was hard to believe that Tartaglia would say such explicit things in this manner. You then stopped which was met with a displeased groan from Childe.

"You have to earn it".

His eyes sparkled as you unblocked his hands.

"On your knees".

He complied and stepped from. the bed to then kneel right in front of you, his cock painfully twitching. He moved his hand to your thighs getting high of the smell of your skin. He wanted you. So bad. At this point he felt like a bitch in heat, lost all of his self control as he spread your legs open, his tongue basically automatic, going on your clit. It took you by surprise that the harbinger knew what he was supposed to do right away.

He was skilled or maybe just the heat got to his head so much that he tried his best. This didn't really matter though because anyway it felt so good. Not only did you make such a dangerous man get on his knees but also serve you. You were truly special and he had masochistic desires but let's just focus on you being special.

He kept going with all his might while also caressing your thighs. You felt the pit in your stomach growing as you grappled his hair and pulled on it. You came right on his face.

"Such a good boy..." you whispered.

You then tugged on his hair again and placed him below you. You then took your panties and placed them on top of his dick. Childe gasped. You then proceeded to stroke him with the lacey panties right on top of his length.

"I wonder what the other fatui would think of this pathetic image. Tartaglia, the great harbinger getting jerked off with panties as he pants and moans like a slut. You're so embarrassing" you teased him which finally brought him to his climax.

Sharp breaths accompanied his moans. You tossed the cum stained pa tied away, will probably make him wash them later. You then placed yourself right on his cock and started moving.

"No! Wait, you can't do that i-it's- fuck.... It's too sensitive!" he exclaimed breathily.

You kept on going as he basically screamed underneath you.

"Fuck, this hurts so much that it's good" Chile's eyes practically rolled back, he was such a mess, teary eyes, drool rolling down his chin.

But he was your mess, your adorable boy. You kept going as you felt him cum again, feeling his warm semen filling you as he gasped and moaned and groaned. You touched his cheek lovingly, wiping the tears with your thumb. You got closer to him and placed a lot of kisses on his face. He was wrecked, in a good way.

"Soooo... does that make us, like, a thing?" you asked while looking away. You really did fall for him and didn't want it to be just purely sex. You wanted more of him.

He pulled you closer, putting his shaky hands in your hair as he gave you a peck. "Does that answer your question?"

You cuddled him, holding him very tightly and close, making sure he stays with you. You both fell asleep like that, curled up together. In the morning when you woke up earlier than him, you made sure to make breakfast for the both of you. It felt so warm and domestic. Childe felt like home to you.

Author's note I had to move blogs because I wasn’t satisfied with it being a side blog, I wanted to keep it as a main so if you’ve seen this ff before, that’s why! Also, this is my first fic so please don't be too harsh on me dhdhjdnd. I'm posting it at 5am for me because I couldn't sleep so I'm sorry if I missed any typos, feel free to correct me! And I hope you liked this little scenario, pls share your thoughts about it with me 💗

[sillydg]

Unfulfilled Hunger: Tobias X MC

Book: Open heart, somewhere in book 3

Rating: 18+ (Adult content!)

Pairing: Tobias X MC ((Elisabeth Sarah Hughes (Liz))

Title: Unfulfilled Hunger

Rating: Explicit NSFW 18 + Only

Wordcount: 6500

Summary: Thank you so much for your request, @kachrisberry, to write what happens if they get back at Tobias’s apartment, after him carrying her out of the Laser tag game. A follow-up, for “Foul Play”.

Category: Explicit Smut

A/N: First of all, I find it important to say that both Liz and Tobias feel safe to protect their own boundaries and to speak up if something is not too their likings. They're both adults and both are completely comfortable and wanting to engage in each of these activities. A/N: This one ended up a bit longer than anticipated (Pun intended). But I got my hands on Tobias.. and maaaaaybe got a little bit carried away... But no, nah, not going to apologize for that 😉. Please let me know if you guys enjoyed the ride and please sent me an ask if you want to request something for OH or The royal romance, because I loved writing this and I'll hope you enjoy reading it.

Warnings: Foul language (sexy talk and swearing), Explicit adult seksual content. IF you read this FF, you confirm that you're 18 years or older.

Tobias and MC belong to Pixelberry.

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

Unfulfilled Hunger

Tobias opens his door with one hand, pulling Liz through with the other. “It’s a goddamn miracle that we got home in one piece, Hughes." He slams the door and pushes her against it, crashing his lips against her...

Murmering he continuous; “You almost fucking killed me by touching yourself like that in the car." His hands drifting over her body. "For god's sake, you already came once and I almost caused an accident by just looking at you trembling like that in the frontseat.”

Liz grins as he moves his kisses to her neck. “I had to do something, since I was not allowed to touch you. Besides, I simply HAD to touch myself at the sight of you.” She kicks off her boots.

Tobias bites her neck with a groan. “Ohhh, you dirty, dirty girl.”

Grinning she pushes him away, making him bump into the wall across from her.

“Off with the shirt, Carrick.”

“So commanding.” He gives her a cheeky smile. Such a turn-on.

“For a woman who was first complaining about me getting my shirt off… you changed your mind pretty quickly.”

“Oh save it, Carrick.” She tugs at his shirt, trying to take it off herself.

He grabs her wrists, turning her around. "Oh. I don't think so, Liz." He pins her against the wall with her hands up in the air.

“Now, I believe I was enjoying myself.” His lips find her neck again.

“For god's sake, T. Stop torturing me. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you all week after that little stunt you pulled .

Standing bare chested in front of me, but holding my hands so there was no way of touching you. Brushing your delicious lips against mine, without giving me the slightest taste of your tongue. All I could think of was touching, tasting, savoring you. For god's sake, I know you've noticed me undressing you with my eyes.”

Tobias looks up, meeting her eyes with a twinkle. “Ooooh, was that what you were doing during our daily meetings. I already wondered what you were thinking about when you stared at me like that, biting on your pen. Licking your cherry red lips.”

“Ohh, You very well knew, T. Because you were walking around 24-7 with that goddam annoyingly sexy, self-conscious smirk on that way too handsome face of yours.

God. I had to touch myself every night, when I was lying in bed. Desperate attempt, after desperate attempt to satisfy the hunger you released in me. But it never seemed enough. I'm so fucking hungry for you, Carrick. ”

He leans back to meet her gaze, his eyes filled with longing and frustration. She feels her knees getting weak at the intensity of him staring at her, glad to be pinned against the wall. “Well, it serves you right, Liz.”

He breaks the gaze and unbuttons her short with one hand, letting it slide onto the ground. His hand moves into her red lacy panties, softly stroking her lips, teasing her inner thighs. He smiles at the feeling how wet she already is for him and he lowers his mouth to her ear, whispering; “Now you know how I felt over the past few months, Liz. It started when I first saw you in that deli, with your messy bun and yoga pants.

It became worse after the fire I saw in your eyes when we met at Bloom. You were so snarky at me, Liz. I wanted to bend you over the table, pull up that way to the tight dress of yours, and give you a good spank, just to let you know who’s the boss. And believe me... It sure isn’t Ethan.

But things got really messy from the moment I saw you in that short at the baseball field." He lowers his voice to what almost sounds like a deep growl; "You know why I missed every freaking ball that day, Liz?”

She groans as he moves his hand out of her string.

“Because every time you threw the ball, your shirt would come up ever so slightly and showed this little part of your belly and the fucking lacy edge of your little pink thong.” He moves his fingertip over her sensitive skin right above her panties and she lets out a soft moan.

His hand disappears again in search of her clit, moving softly and slowly. Taking his sweet, sweet time to find the right spot.

The roughness of his stubble, the tickling of his husky voice, and now him touching her at her most sensitive spot... She feels a warmth quickly spreading through her body.

“You ruined me that day, Hughes.” He gently moves two fingers inside her, still drawing slow, sweet circles over her clit with his thumb. Her breath enhances, and he feels her contracting around his fingers.

“I’ve been touching myself ever since at the thought of dropping the bat and taking you right there on the field. Not caring who sees me, trusting into you, making you mine.

So it serves you right.”

He leans back again to take look at her. Her eyes are closed, completely at his mercy. His lips find hers in a slow, deep kiss, and he feels how close she gets to release. He murmurs to her lips. “Not yet, Hughes.”

He abruptly lets go of her wrist, letting his hand slip out her briefs. Leaving her breathing hard as her arms fall, startled at the sudden movement.

He walks away towards the living room, and right before he disappears, he gives her a million-dollar smirk over his shoulder. And after just a second she sees his shirt flying into the hallway.

Trying to compose herself from almost getting pushed over the edge, she leans against the wall. After a few deep breaths, she kicks the short off her feet, following him into the living room. So, we're still playing dirty.

She finds Tobias casually leaning against the counter, a drink in his hand. She swallows as she takes him in. Her eyes drift over his toned brawnylicous abs, moving down to his pants which are hanging dangerously low on his hips, just enough to make her thoughts go wild, but not enough to reveal anything.

She smiles cheekily, trying to hide how taken she is with the sight of him. God, his ego might explode if he only knew. “So, where Is my drink?”

He gives her his signature smirk. “Well, I thought, since I’ve taken my shirt off, I’m going to enjoy a drink while I watch you take your shirt off.. and after that, we can talk about you having a drink.” He moves towards the large breakfast counter and jumps to sit on it, clearly expecting a show.

She turns around, smiling over her shoulder. "Careful what you are wishing for, Carrick. Sure you can handle me?" She starts to move her hips slowly from side to side.

Tobias bites his lip as he looks at her perfectly shaped ass, dressed ever so little by the red lace string she is wearing. As she lets her hands drift over her rounds, he follows her hands up as they grip onto her small tank top. And with one fluid pull, it falls on the ground, right where he likes it to be.

He glances at her as she turns around, showing off her matching set, with all the curves in the right places. He is surprised to see that her bra is practically one small piece of fabric, adoring the sight of her nipples shining and peaking through the red lace.

Smirking, he moves his hand over his chest. “You cheeky Minx. You planned this, didn’t you? Or are you always wearing these matching lingerie sets..”

She sways forward, smiling seductively. Tobias's eyes are completely fixated on her breasts, slowly moving down to her swaying hips and back up, not able to determine where to look.

“I think I’m going to let you find that out for yourself. It might surprise you how diverse my lingerie is… So I suggest you undress me every day from now on…”

He swallows; “God, where have you been hiding, Hughes?”

Shrugging casualy, she cocks up an eyebrow.

“Now about that drink, T.”

He gets ready to jump off the counter, but she stops him. “Oooh no Carrick... you stay... right there, like the good boy you are.” She moves to stand between his legs. “Now, let me take care of this for you.” She tucks on his jeans, pulling them off.

“My, my, what a treat.” She moves her hand over the big bulk in his boxers and smiles. "And you dare to ask, where I've been hiding, T?"

He lets out a deep moan as she keeps caressing him. He leans backward on his hands, giving in to the feeling. She gives him a cheeky smile, puts his legs together, her hands onto the counter, and straddles him after one effortless jump."

Caught off-guard he starts to stumble, looking at the woman suddenly at his eye-level. “What the..”

“Ohh Carrick, Carrick, Carrick” She kisses him softly, teasing his lips with her tongue. Holding herself steady with her hands on his chest, slowly grinding her pussy against his hard cock through his boxers. After a few minutes of exploring, she encourages him to lie on his back. Tongues still dancing and she feels him gasp, the moment he touches the cold marble with his bare skin.

While pulling back, she keeps the friction going, and not only for his pleasure. “I might have forgotten to tell you… But I love yoga, it’s not just the comfortable pants for me. And I might have done gymnastics for a big part of my life. So if you keep up the good work, Carrick, you might get the chance to find out how flexible I really am.”

“For god’s sake,” he murmurs under his breath. She keeps rubbing herself against his hard length, not quite enough to take him over the edge, but enough to let him balance on it...

“Now, I need you to move up, Carrick. I want this whole divine body of yours onto this counter.”

He smirks; "What makes you think that you're the one in control, Hughes? Remember what happened earlier when you tried to command me? Or do I need to refresh your memorie?"

A sly smile appears on her face; "It must be nice, living in that head of yours T. Still convinced you're the one in control? Let me give you a piece of reality, mister." She removes his boxer, throwing it through the living room.

She smirks as they lock eyes, anticipation noticeable on Tobias's face. Of course, the moment he saw her at the deli was the moment where she completely gained control over him. Haunting his dreams, fantasies, and even in bed with other women she regularly popped up in his head, making stuff a lot better. But that doesn't stop him from one last desperate attempt to keep the facade up.

She encircles him with her soft hands, slowly moving up and down, while teasing his tip with a few small, fast licks.

"Nnnghh."

"What was that, Carrick?"

"Oh for fuck sake."

She moves her hand down, following the line under his tip firmly with her tongue. It makes his muscles tense, and he moves his ass slightly up as a deep grunt escapes his throat. “Ohhhhh, Yes Liz.”

Smirking she looks down at the man beneath her. "Now, If you want me to keep doing that, you better move that delicious ass of yours right now, T!"

He starts moving while muttering some swear words under his breath, while she keeps teasing him with her hands and tongue.

Her eyes twinkle and she puts on a naughty smile;“God Carrick, I’m going to have so much fun with you now we have established who is the one in charge.”

She leans in, one hand on the counter and the other one exploring his neck, down to his chest. Licking his lips, inviting his tongue to meet hers. He opens his mouth and lets her in. His hands slipping under her bra, softly teasing her nipples, drawing small moans from her mouth.

Without him noticing she grabs his drink off the counter and she gently pulls back. Their blues meet and she bites her lip. “Now, about that drink.”

His breath stops as soon as the golden liquid hits his chest. She pours it, bit by bit, between the gap in his abbs, slowly moving down to his belly button, her eyes never leaving his.

“Hughes, you’re unbelievable.”

“You better know it, T.”

She puts the glass down, moving her attention to his chest as she softly let her fingers drift through the scotch. She moves her finger to cover his full lips, kissing him softly after.

“Mmh... That’s the good stuff, Carrick.”

She moves her tongue, licking the liquid of his chest, feeling his muscles flex under her touch wherever she goes.

He looks at her, hypnotized, his breath fastening as she slowly moves further and further down. Skin getting more sensitive with every lick, bite and suck as she savors the scotch off him. Oh my god.

His muscles tense as she arrives at his belly button, and when there is no drop left, she moves her focus to his lower abdomen. She looks up, as she hears him moan, smiling at the sight of his glistering abs and the pleasure showing on his face.

He groans; “Oh God, you really are enjoying my body, don't you Hughes?”

“Every fucking part of it..”

"Good, 'cause it's yours to use from now on. Whenever you want, I'll even get you your special beeper for emergencies."

"I'll hold you onto that. Now... ready for some fun, Carrick?"

He smirks contently as she moves her head further down and starts teasing the top of his hardness again.

But then he realizes that it probably would take nothing more than a few sucks to release, given how worked up he already is.

And nothing was further from the truth. Without warning, she stopped teasing, taking his full length in her mouth. After a few seconds of settlement, she starts deep throating him, and before he gets the chance to protest it turns black before his eyes, pushing his head back and he releases in her mouth.

She teases him with a few more sucks, making sure that every drop of him gets savored while enjoying the feeling of his body trembling under her mouth. For a minute he lies on the counter, breathing hard. "For fuck sake, Hughes."

She shrugs with a sly smile "Oops, got a little bit carried away there."

He slowly starts to get regain his senses and he looks up to a smirking Liz, sticking out cheekily the tip of her tongue.

“But, damn, that tasted even better than the scotch T.”

He hides his face behind his hands to hide a satisfied smile at her bold words.

After just a few more deep breaths, he manages to collect himself and jumps off the counter. “Glad that you enjoyed that, Liz, but now it’s my turn.” He scoops her up from the counter and throws her over his shoulder without any effort. Oh, I’m taking back control now.

After a few satisfying smacks on her butt, he sits down on the bed, letting her slide down on his lap. His lips find hers and he starts to unhook her bra, throwing it into a corner. He takes one of her nipples in his mouth while teasing the other with his hand. Her head falls back as she starts to grind once again in his lap. “Oh, God Tobias I already feel you grow again.” She reaches out to stroke him, but to avoid losing control once again he stands up, grabbing her at her thighs, and he throws her onto the soft bed.

“No more touching me, until I’m done with you, Liz. That means AFTER two orgasms, I’m going to fuck your brains out. But now. You’re completely at my Mercy." She nods, biting her lip. "Good girl. Now, grab the headboard, and don’t let go.”

Her eyes start to glister at the commanding tone in his voice and she completely surrenders. Obediently she grabs the headboard.

“And Liz... Don’t make a sound, until I tell you to.”

She swallows and a hot shiver runs through her body, by hearing those words, setting her body on fire. Such a turn-on.

He rips her panties off in one tuck, drawing her in for a deep kiss, while teasing her entrance with his erection. He starts to rubs his dick against her clit. Taken by the urge to feel him closer she starts to shift her hips up, urging him to enter her. Without thinking she sighs between kisses. “God Carrick, I... I need you inside me. I need to feel you deep inside me.”

He immediately stops. “What was that? I believe I heard some sounds coming out of that delicious mouth of yours. Yeah, you want me inside you?”

Realizing that she spoke, her eyes snap open, sucking in a breath while waiting for Tobias to react.

“Three orgasms, it is now.” And without further notice, his lips crash against hers again. His hands firmly exploring her body before they find the place where he started tonight.

He wastes no time, knowing how worked up she was before. His thumb finds her clit, and he sees her biting her arm as he enters her with three fingers, suppressing a moan. God, that’s sexy. He catches the encouragement and starts to moves his fingers faster and faster while sucking on her swollen nipple, caressing her other boob with a firm squeeze.

She trembles, more and more under his touch, finding it harder and harder to keep her moans in. God, she wants to scream his name so badly.

Then he softly bites her nipple and a flick of pain runs through her body, turning quickly into pleasure as she tumbles over the edge, biting even harder in her shoulder, only intensifying her orgasm.

He smirks at her, impressed, but also totally captivated by the look on her face as she comes, shutters and shakes, by his doing. Yeah, I’m never going to get enough of this.

He gives her a few seconds to catch her breath and damn she breaths hard, releasing her arm from her teeth, leaving bite marks.

He gently moves up to guide both of her arms down, which are still clenching to the headboard. He kisses her softly as she opens her eyes to meet his. “You okay?”

She smiles softly and nods. “Good. Ready for me to taste you?” She mouths “Ohh God Yes” without making a sound.

They keep staring into each other’s eyes as the mood shifts 180 degrees. Tobias frowns at her as she takes his face in her hands, knowing very well how much she actually adored this man.

His eyes turn soft and he smiles at her. "You're amazing, you know that, Liz?"

"Show me."

Tobias moves in for a tender and long kiss, cupping her cheeks in his hands. Liz feels her heartbeat rising, now by the soft touch of this man. He covers her body with hers completely as they start to lose themselves in each other. Her hands drift over the back of his head, enjoying the tickling of his soft short hairs, before letting her fingertips drift over his bareback. He slowly undoes her hair and drapes it over the mattress. Their hands meet and fingers entwining. The pillows and sheets are long found on the ground. He drops soft kisses on her neck, murmuring "God, youre beautiful."

He gently lets go of her hands and starts moving, teasing his stubble against her sensitive skin on his way down, breathing in her warm scent on the way. He looks at her glistening clit and gives it a few quick licks.

She directly moves her hips a bit up and he realizes how sensitive she is.

“I can’t wait for you to scream my name, Hughes.” She smiles at the permission to make sounds again.

“Then make me, Carrick.”

He moves his hands up to her hips, pulling her softly towards the edge of the bed as he gets on his knees, laying her legs over his shoulder. He starts licking her softly and slowly, savoring her smell and fluids.

“I need more, T.” She softly grabs his head urging him to come closer. He smiles cheekily and pushes his head back up; “I’m sorry? I believe I missed two magic words?”

“More, PLEASE Carrick, give me more.”

"That's what I'm talking about."

He starts licking and kissing again, but still moving his tong teasingly slow and soft while looking cheekily up to her.

She looks down to meets his eye, and he gives her the sexiest smirk she has ever laid eyes on. “For god's sake Carrick, if you’re going to smirk like that every time you taste me..” He suddenly moves up the pace of his tongue, forcing her to stop talking midsentence. "Nnnngh."

“Yes? Then?” He smiles against her clit, back to teasing her.

“Now you're the one who is unbelievable, T."

"Don't tell me things I'm already aware of. Now, finish that sentence, Hughes."

She sighs, longing for more tongue. "We are going to need a private conversation like this at least two times a day.”

He keeps his smirking up; “Then that's settled” He pushes his head down and lets his tong flick expertly, fast, and firm, letting his fingers assist by moving in and out of her.

“Nnnnhhhhgggg… T..” Her hands grab the sheets and he lets his finger slip out of her, to pull her even closer, steadying her hips. He picks up pase, encouraged by the deep moans. She trembles more and more, urging to move her hips, but his stern grip keeps her in place. You’re not getting away, Hughes.

She starts to move her hands, looking for something to grab as the sheets are not enough to hold onto. Her hands find his head again.

“Fuuuuuuck Carrrrrriccck.”

Yes, that’s it.

She pulls up her knees, body shocking and sweating, and he feels how she comes with his mouth still on her. Seeing her tremble like that...

God, I can’t wait any longer.

“You taste so good, you know that Hughes. Here. Taste.” He kisses her slowly, his hands encircling the back of her neck to draw her even more in, his dick rubbing against her still sensitive pussy, causing her to keep shuttering her body from time to time.

“Are you ready? You've been such a good girl, so I will fuck you towards you’re third orgasm, Liz, don’t you worry.”

Still with her eyes closed, she nods and lets out a satisfied sigh, letting him lead her up on the bed again.

As he completely covers her body with his again he places his dick before her entrance. Theirs eyes meet, both filled with longing to finally get close. She softly moves her hands behind his neck, teasing him with her nails. Maintaining eye contact he slowly starts to move inside her, until his eyes roll back at the feeling of how tight she is.

Her breath enhances, and she smiles, enjoying the visible pleasure on his face. He keeps slowly moving against her until he fills her completely.

Her eyelids start to flicker as he slowly starts thrusting into her.

“God, you’re big, Carrick.” She matches the movement of her hips to his rhythm, moving her legs around his waist to encourage him to go deeper. His lips find hers as he picks up the pace until he is not able to hold his upper body up, with the pleasures running through his body.

He lets out a deep, almost animalistic moan; "So tight Liz, you're so tight."

Leaving her lips and he hides his face in her neck, sucking at her sensitive flesh, leaving his mark.

Her nails slide from his shoulders to his back and smiles against his ear. “Fuck, this is so much better than in the dreams I had about you... T, you fill me up perfectly.”

She feels how he starts to lose control, picking up his pace, more firm with his thrusts as she speaks.

His voice sounds low and gruff. “Ahhh... You've dreamt about me, Hughes? So what did I do to you in these dreams?”

With him putting more power in his thrusts, she feels how he is hitting the right spot over and over again and she moans. “O god yes, Tobias… You... you fucked me in the middle of the diagnostics room on the round table, the next day in the supplies closet, NHHHGGG, on fucking Ethan’s desk, when the rest was out for lunch.”

“Ohhhhh Yes Hughes.” He moves his hands between them, as he keeps thrusting harder and harder, faster and faster while massaging her clit.

Liz is unable to talk as she feels how her body is taken over by the pleasure, quickly rising from her toes to her head, closing her eyes and she certainly was not able to think straight anymore... “Youuu... You… yyy… test nnnnhg lab”

“What are you saying, Hughes?” He smirks, leaning on one arm looking at the woman crumbling to pieces under him. He tries to stall his orgasm, but it gets harder and harder at the sight of her losing her mind, combined with the sexy talk rolling over her swollen lips.

He takes her breasts in his mouth, murmuring “Come on baby, let go once more. Show me that beautiful look on your face.”

His words were enough to push her over the edge, he notices, leaving her breast and again hiding his head in the crook of her neck. Biting, sucking as she encourages his thrusting, drawing blood with her nails on his back.

“Fuuuuuuck yeah, Carrick.”

He feels her pussy contracting around him and lets out a deep groan. He wants to savor the feeling, but the damn release was so close, it was unfightable.

“I need you to fill me up, T. Please... I need you to come.”

He keeps thrusting, barely managing to hold it together as she keeps stumbling each time he slams into her. "Nhhhhhhgggg, Liz, God Liz."

She grabs his head out of her neck, to make him look up, straight in her sparkly, wanting eyes and he keeps thrusting into her, while barely able to hold his own body up while leaning on his hands.

“Fulfill the hunger, Carrick… still my appetite. ”

Holy fuck.

That was it, he feels how he is not able to fight it anymore and he releases, A deep groan escapes, filling her up, like as she wanted it.

His eyes rolling backward “Gnnnnnggg Hughes, for fuck sake…” He sinks through his arms and after a few more thrusts he holds still, both breathing hard, clenching onto each other. After a few minutes, he gives her a bunch of soft kisses on her forehead, before rolling to the side.

“You’re something else, Liz.” He gently grabs her arm, to place soft kisses on the bite mark.

She smiles, still out of breath. “You know, I expected more oooh Lara and ooooh Miss Croft.”

He snorts and she looks at him in surprise.

“You know what Hughes…” He moves his fingertips over her bare body, encircling her nipples before ending at her lips. He smiles softly and just stares at her in awe.

“Seriously, you’re not going to finish that sentence?”

“I’m sorry I got distracted. You know what it is... I lied to you that night we were drunk. You were my fantasy, but I couldn't just say that right. You are my colleague and I've never had the idea I could be something more until I saw the look on your face when you looked at me last week with my shirt off."

She sighs; "Well, It's already hard to hide it with your shirt on Carrick, but it appears to be a real-life mission impossible when you're standing bare-chested in front of me. It does weird things to my brains and body you know."

"Soooo, me suggesting to Ethan that the new work outfits should be shirtless is not an option?"

She giggles; "Oh no, you do that, please. As long as I get to watch when you ask him. Imagine the look on his face."

Tobias bites his lip at the thought; "True, though, I cannot imagine him saying no to a shirtless you...Miss Croft." He winks and pulls her close to his chest, softly caressing her arm.

"O God, I made a total fool out of myself didn't I?"

"Not at all. Never apologize for looking that delicious. Besides, she was my fantasy until you knocked her off her throne, Hughes."

"Oof, so I've drawn some bad blood there, or what?"

"Nah, actually you might have teamed up a few times.”

She laughs; "Well I'm always open for suggestions Carrick, so if you bump into her...never hurts to ask."

His eyes start to glister at her words. "I never dreamt of you being this naughty, Hughes."

"Is that right, Carrick? So, how did I actually do compared to fantasy Liz?"

He smirks “You’ve proven from our first kiss that reality can beat fantasy by a long shot.” He turns to his side to give her a sweet kiss on the lips.

"I don't think I dared to dream that kissing you would feel this good Liz."

Her eyes start to flutter a bit, relaxing at his words. "So I guess there will be a next time, ha?"

"For me, absolutely. I can't wait to get caught with you day after day, making out in the supply closets until they just give us our own, with our names on it, to have a little fun in."

She smiles softly, barely able to keep her eyes open, murmuring; "I would love that, Tobias"

He removes his arm gently from under her neck to get up. He grabs the blankets, covering her and he lifts her head gently to lay it onto a pillow.

"Mmh, thank you T."

He smiles and plants a kiss on her forehead as she gets comfortable, shifting around, moving on her side.

He returns to bed, drawing her in to spoon.

“So about that whole yoga and gymnastics. Care to show me tomorrow in the shower?”

She smiles gently with her eyes closed. “Absolutely. And after that, you might want to show me around in your apartment... I might have missed everything except for 'naked you' and the breakfast counter.”

He laughs and looks at her in all his tenderness. He closes his eyes and moves hides his nose in her hair, breathing in her warm scent, focussing on the sound of her breathing.

Murmuring on the brink of falling asleep. “Deal, Miss Hughes. Besides you can have anything you want from me, anywhere. Because it's very clear that I was never the one in control, and hell, I love it."

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

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed. Also please let me know if you want to be tagged for OH, but not for smut like this. Taglist: @schnitzelbutterfingers @kachrisberry @jerzwriter @gkittylove99

@choicesficwriterscreations

[bbmyungho]

Seventeen + an s/o with ADHD

a/n: sorry this isn’t an update on SNCTD; trust me, I’m just as excited as you guys to finish the story, but my mental health hasn’t been all that great lately if i’m being honest, and i’ve missed writing for svt so... two birds with one stone, y’know :) also, quick disclaimer: this specific reaction post will mainly center around my own experience with my ADHD/the symptoms that especially affect me. you may be able to relate to it, you may not, but i hope you enjoy it either way, i tried to include kind of a range of manifestations. if you don’t struggle with ADHD or ADD, i would definitely advise that you look into ways you can better understand people who do and maybe help them out, and if you do struggle with it, remember that you are valid and you matter so much no matter what your brain says or does <3 we all have days where we struggle to understand that, but i swear it’s true and i’m always here if you ever want to talk about it <3

s. coups/seungcheol

always reminding you to take care of yourself and your mental health first

he rubs your head and/or shoulders when you’re having trouble with grounding yourself and staying focused (like he does with jeonghan’s hair i <<<<</////3333)

he’s very good at disguising when he’s gently reminding you about things or encouraging you to get work he knows you have due soon done with jokes or banter (so you don’t feel bad about forgetting or getting distracted)

you bet he’s going to be up in the forums trying to figure out ways other people help out their loved ones and see if there’s anything else he can do to improve how he shows that he’s there for you

jeonghan

very gentle and patient

he hates the sound of his alarm but he keeps one in his phone to remind you to take your medicine (if you take it) because he knows if you’re doing something else when yours goes off you’ll just swipe off and forget about it

every once in a while just out of nowhere he’ll make it a point to remind you how special you are to him and make sure you know that you are so much more than your disability and you’re doing so well with it look at you go

encourages breaks like his life depends on it he really likes to hold you during your breaks pls let him love you

joshua

always brings an extra pair of headphones or an extra mask for you if you tend to misplace or forget things

he keeps reminders and notes about important events or appointments in your schedule in his phone alongside all of his stuff so he can a) know what you’re up to every once in a while and b) make sure you get there on time and prepared with a good luck text from your wonderful boyfriend :)))

he doesn’t mind having to repeat himself if you’re zoned out and he always reminds you you don’t have to apologize when you ask him to; he understands you’re not just uninterested, and he wants to help you get out of the cycle of apologizing for something you can’t control

your hyperfixations become his hyperfixations: he might not be able to really invest in them like you do but he will watch whatever show you want or listen to whatever music

plus whatever he sees when he’s out that relates to it or reminds him of you, he’ll pick it up; v supportive in your hyperfixations!!

jun

jun is a godsend for really bad executive dysfunction days omg

i feel like if you’re ever struggling to get your thoughts in order or think of the right word to say, he knows exactly what you mean and he’ll help you out with it

also i feel like he’s pretty good at keeping up with stuff if you’re super forgetful or tend to misplace things???

like you’ll be looking for your headphone case or something in your bag and he’ll pull it out of his jacket pocket like “oh you asked me to hold them earlier sorry i didn’t give them back” 

probably better at keeping up with your stuff than is he is his own ffs

hoshi/soonyoung

idk if anyone else really does this but i tend to isolate myself especially when i feel like i’m being really overzealous or obnoxious

but soonyoung absolutely hates when you do that

he tries to make it as clear as humanly possible that you could never ever be a burden or an annoyance to him and he likes to sit with you whenever you don’t feel like talking to people

he’s a pretty loud and energetic guy himself so i feel like if you’re having a hard time controlling your hyperactivity he’ll just match your energy

if he catches you picking at your nails or playing with your fingers a lot (just generally fidgeting a lot), he’ll pull you up to dance with him and you’ll let some of that energy out together :)

wonwoo

i feel like wonwoo is super sensitive to your needs and experiences specifically

like he knows exactly how you need him to react when you’re on the verge of tears because you’re so frustrated with yourself for not being able to focus or when you get overstimulated

he’s a pretty chill guy anyways so i feel like overstimulation isn’t a big problem with wonwoo, at least when it’s just you two; when it does happen, he’s content to sit in silence with you as long as you need him to and just hold your hand or stare at your cute face until you feel like you can breathe again

if you’re in need of stimulation, he’ll read to you aloud or turn the sound of whatever game he’s playing up so you can hear what’s going on, too

woozi/jihoon

100% composes little songs for you to listen to for whatever mood you’re in or whatever amount of stimulation you need

i feel like he’s quite awkward dealing with big shutdowns or panic attacks if you get really frustrated or over/under stimulated but he tries his best to be there for you when you need him

much like soonyoung, if you’ll let him sit with you when you feel like no one wants to see you or you don’t want to bother anyone, he’ll jump at the chance

dk/seokmin

sweet boy is so patient and kind :(((

he doesn’t care how many times you trip over your words or have to restart a sentence, he’ll wait for you to finish and will listen intently

he looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky doesn’t matter what kind of dumb shit you’re doing or saying

no matter what your brain comes up with or how out of left field it may seem, he’s always got something to say right back that will match your energy babes 

mingyu

mingyu hums to you to help you fall asleep 100%

he can listen to you talk for forever so if your ADHD manifests itself in talkativeness, he’s just that much happier

he always asks if you’ve eaten and will cook for you if you say you’ve forgotten or just haven’t gotten around to it

he likes it when you play with his hands or when he feels your knee bouncing against his if you’re having trouble sitting still, he thinks it’s kinda cute and just a little reminder that you’re there 

the8/minghao

minghao is a man of many talents and interests so he’s always got you with something to do if you’re feeling burnt out on your other interests or just generally bored

will grab your hand and play with your fingers if he notices you picking at your skin/nails a lot or cracking your knuckles

or like if he’s wearing rings that day he’ll hand you one so you can play with it 

that way you’re still receiving some sort of stimulation but you’re not literally tearing skin off of your hand or about to break your wrists so win-win

seungkwan

he likes to play song association games with you sometimes, whether it be an attempt to help with your dysfunction or just to see how far out of line you guys can get

he always sends you a good morning text with a reminder to take your medicine (again, if you’re medicated) and wishing you a great day

if you get frustrated and sad with yourself then he’ll get sad as well and do everything in his power to cheer you up

he’s always encouraging you and making it a point to remind you that you’re valid and you’re doing your best even if it feels like you aren’t

vernon

mans doesn’t know where or what he is half the time tbh so i don’t think executive dysfunction would be too much of a problem for him

you two communicate without words all the time, you understand each other better than anyone else

he’s pretty go with the flow like he can be just as hyper and loud and energetic as you or he can just lay there with you cuddled up on his chest, it doesn’t matter to him, he just wants to match your energy

he tries to listen to you well and learn as much as he can about ways he can help when you need him to

like joshua, will probably carry around extra headphones or an extra mask or something just incase you misplace or forget yours

dino/chan

he’s a bit clueless, at least at first, but he tries really hard to learn

he probably is the type to carry a fidget spinner or some sort of fidget device for you to play with if those kinds of things help you

he’s also probably very awkward about handing it to you because idk he’s just weird??

always happy to try out new things with you when you’re feeling burnt out on your old hobbies or try to teach you a new dance routine or something to keep you occupied

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Love or Duty by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Chapter 1/8

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @deckerstarblanche

Chapter 1: The Uneasy Alliance

“Our scout says she burned the village to the ground, everything is gone. She didn’t even leave the animals alive.”

The King surveyed the room filled with nervous men, he held up his hand and a hush fell over the crowd. “Double the guard at the gate, just to be safe.” He turned toward the Knight, the man nodding swiftly before exiting the chamber. “Regina is still in the East, Misthaven is safe.”

“For how long?” Someone yelled from the back of the room.

“We need to move the women and children.” Another voice spoke above the crowd.

“Everyone calm down. There is no need to panic, our guard is strong, our swords are mighty. We will not be taken by the Queen from the Eastern lands.”

“We need more swords, Your Majesty. If we stand alone, Misthaven will surely fall.”

The warning did not fall on deaf ears, as the King paced his chambers that evening, his wife, Queen Margaret preparing herself in their bed chamber, watched him with eager eyes. “You appear distracted this evening.”

“It’s Regina, she destroyed the town of Umbury. The nobles are concerned that she is advancing north.”

“You do not think our defenses will hold.” She spoke softly, standing from her spot in front of the bed, less of a question and more of a statement that she had read from his mind. She was good at that, reading his thoughts, understanding what he wasn’t saying before he could even admit his own truth.

He contemplated a moment, not wanting to worry his wife but knowing it was pointless to deny what she already knew. “No. They are our best men, but I fear there are simply not enough of them.”

“Then you must go west.”

“Never. Those fools will not listen much less be willing to help our cause.”

“Those fools are also standing in her way.” She said soothingly, taking his hand and pulling him toward the bed. “Alone, both kingdoms will fall. But if you come together, put aside this foolish feud, we will surely stop her in her path.”

“Brennan Jones is a fool. I would no sooner beg for his assistance than I would bend a knee to Regina’s demands.”

“Then you, my love, are the fool.” She put a hand to his open mouth, stopping his protest and complaint. “You are King David Nolan; you serve the people of Misthaven. It is time to forgive past transgressions, you must come together with the people of Jonesboro or you doom our own to a life of misery and servitude under the rule of Queen Regina.”

He bent his head, knowing his wife was right. He was out of options; they wouldn’t last the month at the rate that Regina was burning the lands. He needed assistance and his best chance was his neighbor to the west. King Brennan was the last man he would seek out, the last man he would be found groveling to, and sadly, he had no other options. King Brennan Jones was their only hope.

~*~

“To what do I owe this great displeasure of seeing your face on my doorstep, David?”

“I’m no more excited to be at your doorstep than you are to see me, Brennan, but we need to speak regarding our mutual problem in the East.”

“Ah so you’re here about the infestation, or as she likes to call herself, Regina.”

David nodded. “She burned Umbury to the ground not two days ago.”

“My scouts have not brought news of Umbury yet. Are you quite sure?”

“Not even the animals survived the slaughter.” David said somberly.

“Umbury is not far from the road to Misthaven, is it not?”

His irritation grew. “You know that it is.”

“This does not sound like my problem, David.”

“If Misthaven falls, how long before Jonesboro follows?” He stated emphatically. “Regina will not rest until all the lands are hers.”

The man paced in front of him, the cold mask set on his face, unreadable. “You expect me to believe that you care about what happens to my kingdom?”

“I know that my kingdom cannot survive without help. Neither can yours.” He implored.

“You want to work with me?” He laughed loudly. “I did not think the day would come.”

“Trust me, If there was any other way, I would have found it. Margaret asked me to speak to you, so here I am.”

The man rolled his eyes. “Ah now we come to the truth, Margie sent you.”

This time it was David who rolled his eyes, “She seems to think this is our only way out of this. I am inclined to agree, unfortunately.”

“Go home David, tell your wife I send my fondest regards, but I would sooner gut my own belly than come to your aid.”

“You did not tell me we had visitors.” The men turned toward the intruding voice and David softened when he saw the Queen enter the chambers.

“Ali.” He responded fondly, accepting the hug she offered as she approached. “I apologize for the short notice.”

“You know you are always welcome here.” She turned toward her husband with a glance of annoyance.

“He was just leaving.” Brennan offered quickly.

“Nonsense, what brings you all this way, David? How are Margaret and the children?”

“Everyone is well, Margaret sends her love, I was just speaking to your husband about the situation at Umbury.”

“What news is there of Umbury?”

“Regina.” He said simply and the woman’s face filled with dread.

“There must be something we can do about this woman’s reign of terror.”

He glanced at the King, “That is the reason for my visit. If our Kingdom’s could unite, perhaps we stand a chance at defeating her.”

“There have been too many years of unrest between our lands, our people would never fight alongside yours.” The King complained.

“Not unless they had something to unite behind. Perhaps a truce or a reason for them to join forces.” The Queen suggested.

“If you are suggesting that David and I…”

“Out of the question.” David added.

“Unless…” Brenna said with a raise of his brow. “Your daughter, Emma. She must be at least 18 now?”

David turned toward him with confusion on his face. “She turned 20 this year, why?”

“Our son Liam just turned 24 and has yet to take a bride.”

“Brennan, that is not what I meant.” The Queen stepped forward.

“But if our children were to unite, our people would surely follow?” He turned toward his wife, “It would solve the issue of Liam not choosing a wife, it has been too long and would avoid the messy situation of David needing to grovel in apology.”

“You want my daughter to marry your son!” David remarked in annoyance. “I did not come here to offer my child up as some sort of trophy.”

“So, you came here to beg for forgiveness then?”

“I’ll do no such thing!”

“Boys, please.” The Queen yelled. “This is not getting us anywhere.”

“You realize this entire idea is insane?” He urged as he tried to appeal to the Queen’s common sense.

“Neither of our children are married, they are both of age, it does solve a certain problem. Unless you boys plan to admit that this feud is ridiculous and apologize.”

“Never.” They sang in unison.

“Then I think we should consider it.”

Accepting defeat, David promised to return home and speak to his wife. In a week’s time, Prince Liam would travel to Misthaven to meet with Princess Emma to discuss their courtship. Now all he needed to do was advise Emma that she would be getting married.

~*~

“I’ll do no such thing.” Emma screamed at her father after he announced her upcoming nuptials.

“We don’t have a choice.” Her father countered.

“How dare you make this decision for my life; you swore to me that you would never do that.”

“I’m the King of Misthaven, I have to think about what is right for this kingdom and its people.”

“But what I want doesn’t matter? That’s what he’s saying, Mother.” Emma spun around to face her mother who was sitting on her throne, a frown on her face.

“Emma, it’s our only choice. We need the kingdoms to unite. Your father has to make the difficult decisions for our survival.”

“Oh, this is rich coming from your mouth.” She growled. “If you hadn’t defied grandpa, you’d be married to King Brennan right now!”

“Emma!” Her father’s tone was loud and angry, but she didn’t care in the slightest. She would not be told that she had to give up her life to be tied to a man she did not know or love.

“Emma what?” She snorted. “Don’t speak the truth?”

“This is different.” He paused. “I loved your mother, and she chose me. Her father accepted that. You have yet to find anyone on your own that is up to your standards to marry. And Prince Liam needs a wife.”

“Does Prince Liam want a wife?” She asked defiantly.

“Emma, you are royalty, this is a responsibility that both you and Prince Liam bear. I am sure he understands his role in his family as the Heir Apparent to the throne, as should you.” Her mother scolded.

“I don’t wish to marry.” She pouted and her mother stood from her throne and walked over to Emma, draping her arm around her shoulder.

“Prince Liam is a lovely man, kind and fair. You will grow to love him as if you had chosen him yourself. You have a responsibility to the people of Misthaven to protect them above all else. You will rise to the occasion as Princess of Misthaven and do your duty.” A tear rolled down her cheek and her mother wiped it away, lifting her chin so that their eyes met. “If there was another way, your father and I would have pursued it. We’re asking you to do this, Emma, for us, for your people. I know this isn’t what you want and for that I am truly sorry.” She finished softly.

“If nothing else is required of me, I wish to retire to my room.” Emma stood from her spot, setting her jaw firmly as she glanced at her father, when neither of her parents responded, she turned and stormed from the room, not stopping until she was within her chamber. As soon as she bolted the door closed, she crumpled atop the duvet of her bed, sobbing into her pillow until she fell asleep.

~*~

“You will travel to Misthaven within the week to meet the Princess and begin the courtship.”

“Do you really believe this will help us defeat Regina?” Liam examined the way his father paced the room in front of him, worry set in the wrinkles of his forehead. He had known that Regina was getting closer to Jonesboro and that their swords were unmatched to her army.

“As much as I do not wish to align myself with Misthaven, we need their blades. Their army is large, and we will not survive a full-on assault from Regina without their assistance.”

“And you believe this is the only way?”

“If she is anything like her mother, she will be more than enough woman for you, son.” He patted his son on the back. “If you are not satisfied with her, you can always take a mistress.”

Liam rolled his eyes, “I will do what is required of me, Father.”

“Take your brother to assist you, but keep your eye on him, I do not wish another scandal.”

“Of course.” He said with a nod, exiting the throne room, ignoring the thunderous beating of his own heart. As soon as he was behind closed doors, he grumbled loudly, tossing his boots across the room. Being the first born carried a heavy responsibility. He would be King one day; he would rule all of Jonesboro and as the first born and Heir Apparent to the throne he was expected to take a wife of royal descent.

The tapestry in the corner of his room rustled and swayed until it pushed away from the wall and the blonde woman entered his chambers through the secret door.

“Elsa.” He breathed, crossing the room in long strides to pull her into his arms.

“I came as soon as you left the King’s chambers. Why were you summoned?”

He brushed his lips against hers, before burying his face in the crook of her neck. “It’s Regina, she’s advancing through the realms faster than expected. The King of Misthaven has brokered a deal with my father that will allow our kingdoms to join forces and defeat her.”

“That’s great news.” She sighed. “So what troubles you, my love?”

He took her hands in his, brushing his lips against her knuckles. “I’m to marry Princess Emma.” He felt her flinch at his words and his eyes squeezed shut.

“And you have agreed to this marriage?”

“We knew this day would come eventually.” She sighed and he opened his eyes to meet hers, a tear slipping from the corner of her eye which he immediately swiped away with his thumb. “This is my duty; I cannot let our people down.”

She took his hand and pressed it against her cheek. “I know, that is why I love you.” He held her tight that evening, her body molded into his side as he watched the moon hang high in the sky. He had loved Elsa since he was a young boy when he first saw her outside the palace with her mother, one of the palace cooks, picking onions from the garden.

He had spent years ignoring the pull of his heart toward the young maiden, until he could yearn no more and took her as his own, locked away in a cottage hidden from the castle. They spent many nights lost in each other’s embrace, wishing that life were less complicated than it was.

He envied his brother Killian, as the second born, the responsibility to rule did not fall on his shoulders. His need to find a wife of royal blood was not necessary and as such, Killian took full liberties to live the life of a royal bachelor who bedded any beauty who would share their chamber with him. He knew nothing about responsibility and duty or even love. But Liam knew that as first born, he would one day be King, and he had to live up to his born right, even if it meant never getting to be with the woman he loved.

So instead of grumbling about fairness, he simply boarded the carriage with his brother and set off for Misthaven, preparing to court a woman he had never met and would never love.

“What if she’s ugly, brother?”

“I fail to see why that matters.” Liam groaned as his brother continued to barrage him with a variety of questions and statements about his situation.

“Would you really bed an ugly woman, simply for the honor of the kingdom?”

“Does everything come down to sex for you?”

His brother shrugged, “Not everything, I like a woman who can hold her rum as well.”

He stared out the tiny window in the carriage, wishing to be anywhere but on the road to Misthaven. “One day you will meet a woman who captures your attention even outside your bedchamber, little brother.”

“Why would I have need for a woman outside my bed chamber?” He smiled widely. “And that’s younger brother, Mate.” He corrected and Liam chuckled at the annoyance it caused the man. While Killian was only a few years younger than him, his jealousy of being the second born had always been apparent.

Killian had always been able to use his handsome features and natural charm to get by in the world, Liam envied his spirit. At 14, Killian lost his hand in a sailing incident, Liam never even saw him cry, he simply picked himself up, and despite his mother’s insistence of finding the best prosthetic their gold could procure, he had the silversmith craft him a hook and carried on his way.

Liam was sure eventually the impediment would bother him, but instead he used it to lure women in. He was sure that curiosity in addition to his cocksure demeanor brought about the loss of his virginity by age 15. Women were simply drawn to his playful yet assertive behavior. While Liam grew up by his father’s side, learning the proper way to rule a kingdom, Killian spent his learning poetry and sailing for adventure.

“Your looks won’t last forever and eventually you will desire a woman to want you for more than what you can provide to her in the bed chamber.” He chuckled but his younger brother simply cast his eyes upon their impending arrival.

The carriage came to a halt and Liam stepped through the open door, looking up at the castle in front of him. It was more lavish than their own, brighter colors and more inviting. He nodded to the man who greeted them.

“Prince Liam, Prince Killian, welcome to Misthaven. The King and Queen are expecting you.”

Killian’s grin was wide as he nodded to a maiden who walked past the carriage. Liam groaned and pulled him by the lapel toward the castle doors. “I have orders to keep you out of trouble on this trip, and that one looks like trouble.” He said with a glance toward the flirting maiden.

“You are no fun at all, brother.” He whined following him begrudgingly through the castle halls.

The large doors opened into a wide room, bright banners accenting the stained-glass windows. A golden curtain draped at the far end of the room, two large thrones sitting in the center of the wall. “Be on your best behavior, I beg of you.” He said through gritted teeth toward Killian.

A beautiful young woman stepped toward the King; he could only assume this was his future bride to be, her blonde hair braided into a golden crown. “At least she isn’t a troll.” Killian whispered.

“Welcome to Misthaven, Prince Liam.” King David spoke as he rose from his throne and stepped toward them. “It is an honor to have you here for such a happy occasion.” He smiled and Liam nodded to the man.

“It is an honor to be here.” He turned toward his brother, “This is my brother, Prince Killian.”

Killian bowed with a ridiculous grin on his face. “My father sends his regards.” Liam rolled his eyes; Killian always did have a way of being an ass without even trying. It was no secret that the feud between King David and their father had been contemptuous for years. His father never shared the reason that the two kingdoms were not friendly neighbors, but Liam knew it best not to ask his father of such things.

“I’m sure he does.” The King responded with a firm jaw. “Allow me to introduce you to the jewel of Misthaven. My daughter, Princess Emma.”

The blonde woman stepped forward; her mouth set in a straight line. She held out her hand and he took it, pressing his lips to her knuckles. “Pleasure, M’lady. While your kingdom is vibrant and glorious, it pales in comparison to your beauty.” He could have sworn she rolled her eyes, but she lowered her head before her emerald orbs could meet his. She didn’t even glance at her brother before she spoke.

“I’m sure the journey was long, and you would prefer to be taken to your chambers rather than spend another second pretending to be impressed by my overwhelming beauty.”

Killian snorted loudly beside him, and Liam elbowed him swiftly, a satisfying groan exiting his brother’s throat.

The King glanced at his daughter who barely gave him a glance as she took her place beside her mother.

“I will have you taken to your rooms; shall we expect you for dinner this evening?” The King interjected.

“Certainly, I look forward to seeing you this evening.” Liam said with a bow, turning to exit the room and dragging his brother forward with him. Once they were shown to their rooms, Killian doubled over with a rambunctious howl.

“Hopefully, she likes your performance in bed more than she enjoys your compliments.”

Liam groaned, he assumed all he needed to do was to arrive in Misthaven, court this woman and return home to his kingdom with a bride to be. Based on her reaction to him, that was going to be a bigger challenge than he planned.

Bloody hell.

[blushnote]

can i request vampire daddy!vernon coming home to find you touching yourself (a big no no when vernon isn't home) so he's 100% ready to pop out his fangs and take you over his knee, leading to the kinkiest sex you've ever had with him

↳ requested | 3.7k

↳ vampire!hansol smut

a/n: you have no idea how much i enjoyed writing this!! i am a HUGE FUCKING FAN of vampire!au’s lol. warnings for this fic include use of handcuffs, mouth gag, unprotected sex, and of course, mentions of blood. there’s also an instance of spitting sjsjsj sorry i had to! 

maybe you’ll regret this decision, but in the meantime, the need to touch yourself outweighs the possibility of consequence. hansol isn’t home. in fact, you have not a single clue as to where he could be. it’s very typical of him to disappear at random, for long durations that you suspect you want no part of. he’s a vampire, and vampires associate with awfully gruesome things.

it’s nighttime beyond the stillness of the house, and you lie sprawled out across the bed, staring vacantly upon the ceiling while a warm, pulsing ache flutters between your thighs. you’re hardly dressed, wearing only a small pair of baby pink underwear and a navy-blue hoodie that belongs to hansol. his scent clings strongly to the fabric, and you breathe him in generously.

you know the rule like the back of your palm: don’t touch yourself while hansol is away. of course, rules were made to be broken, which precisely corresponds to how your hand drifts beneath the pink underwear, your fingertips brushing against your slit in order to feel the insane amount of arousal that collects. you release a long, alleviated sigh at the sweet contact.

planting your feet on the mattress, your knees bend and you spread your legs apart, loving how the cool air caresses your balmy skin. pulling the hoodie above your hips, you use one hand to open your folds while the other begins massaging circles against the hood of your clit. it feels magnificent, even more so when you shut your eyes and imagine hansol’s fingers instead.

as the house in empty, you’re consequently shameless, whimpering out the boy’s name in repetitive, breathy hymns. your fingers push gently past your slit, covering them in a light coating of gloss which you use to slick your sensitive bud. applying a sterner pressure, you resume rubbing in a circular pattern, all while your hips occasionally jerk in sparks of pleasure.

“yes, j-just like that! please hansol, please make me cum, i need it so bad…”

the conversation spews from your lips, though you’re talking to nothing but empty air. for a mere instance, you imagine the sharp dagger of his fangs scraping hard against your neck, his fingers curling inside you while his thumb brushes back and forth over your sore clit. your own hand begins working faster, driving you closer toward a beautiful, much needed afterglow.

“m-more, hansol! please, please let me cum on your fingers—ff-fuck, it feels so good!”

“does it feel good, baby? does it feel good touching yourself even when i told you not to?”

immediately your eyes fly open, your fingers stop pressing down on your clit, and the tip of your climax subsides like an emptying stream. the breath gets caught in your windpipe and your legs suction shut. standing right beside the bed is none other than fucking hansol, who gauges you with a vicious glint in his eyes, which are the same colour as flame mixed with honey.

you always forget that he’s as silent as a feather. it’s something you’ve never gotten used to.

“i-i’m so s-sorry! i just—i didn’t know that—i thought you’d be home by— i’m sorry!”

it feels like someone is clamping your tongue between their fingers, enabling you from explaining yourself. you shuffle up the bed, the slippery gloss still shining on your hand while you embarrassingly fumble for any sort of coherency. hansol watches you menacingly, as though you’re a piece of prey he’s going to tear into slowly. you can only swallow and sweat.

hansol leans down, hovering close to your face, his acute senses probably allowing him to hear just how quickly your heart drums as well as intensely smell the sticky pool between your thighs. he tilts your chin up slightly with an index finger, a dangerous, inhumane smirk curling from one corner lip to the other. you anticipate you’re in for the biggest ruin of your entire life.

he then chuckles huskily, running his tongue across his pointed teeth. “oh, my pretty baby, you know i can’t forgive you, darling, hm? you know i have to punish you, make you learn your fucking lesson. you know that, sweetheart. now,” he leans in closer, “what do you say?”

hansol smiles in complete satisfaction when you gulp down the enormous lump in your throat, responding with an obedient, “i understand, daddy. i deserve to be punished.”

your compliancy delights hansol to infinite ends, though it doesn’t dilute from the fact you were unable to restrain your hedonism. an accumulation of anticipation and fear creates a torrent in your lower tummy. you’ve never broken this particular rule before. you’re clueless as to what hansol’s punishment entails, until he digs into the bedside table, revealing a pair of metal cuffs.

“get the fuck over here.” hansol commands, his eyes blazing as he takes a seat on the bed.

immediately, you rid yourself of the hoodie and position yourself across hansol’s lap, your cheek pressing against the grey comforter while your bottom pokes slightly into the air. nervously, your fingers are clasped together at your back. it isn’t long before you feel the cold metal lock around each wrist, effectively restricting your movement.

the bedroom air grazes your skin. your bare body is on complete display, your tiny, pink pair of underwear revealed, and consequently, the soaked patch to which your arousal had permeated the fabric. you can’t help but squirm and hold your breath, feeling his hands knead your ass, knowing his gaze is singeing directly into your sopped underwear.

“messy little girl, aren’t you?” hansol hums, stroking his knuckles back and forth in a delicate motion, teasing along your aching pussy. “can’t even wait, huh?” he suddenly draws his hand back, a hard, electric slap causing your body to jolt forward. “can’t even fucking wait until daddy is home to touch you.” hansol’s palm rains down again, and a cry erupts from your lips.

however, the boy doesn’t respond cordially to your noises.

“keep your mouth shut,” hansol threads his fingers through your hair, slightly pulling up on your scalp while he growls into your ear, “or i’ll gag that pretty fucking mouth of yours. understand?”

it rapidly dawns on you which type of mood hansol is in. he’s usually domineering to a certain extent, but it’s been a long while since he’s last threatened to gag you. it makes perfect sense when you then consider the fact that hansol hasn’t fed for more than a month. he only drinks from you occasionally, knowing how easy it is to take too much and make a fatal mistake.

once you nod in response, hansol releases the intense grasp on your scalp and his hand returns to gently squeezing the burning flesh of your ass. he soothes the sting for no more than a minute before his palm is again smacking down brutally, a painful wave flaring at the area in which he’d struck. you bury your face into the sheets, not wanting to release even a peep.

“daddy is so upset with you, princess,” hansol remarks in a sorrowed tone, his hand continuing to ripple hard and lightning fast against your skin, “i know how much it hurts when i’m not there to touch you, baby. i know you get restless—,” hansol hardly gives you a moment to breath before he’s striking that same sore spot, “but that’s no excuse, and you know this.”

your bottom lip is tingling and raw from your teeth biting into it so fiercely. each slap is nearly harder than its counterpart, forcing a silver lining to wet your eyes. you hate disappointing hansol, you hate knowing he’s upset with you, and you wish for nothing more than to abide by his instructions and remain silent; however, every seam inside you is slowly breaking apart.

his merciless treatment doesn’t ease your dilemma either. he keeps slapping your abused flesh, until the area becomes increasingly numb yet so sensitive to the pain that your body begins quivering across his lap. the slick between your thighs is abundantly shimmering, dripping in sweet trails and wetting hansol’s pants. his palm flies down again, and this time you erupt.

a high-pitched cry slices through the air. no matter how much you force your cheek into the mattress, you can’t sink or hide any further. hansol is rigid beneath you.

“didn’t i tell you to keep your mouth shut?” his voice comes out in a snarl.

embarrassingly, you nod your head.

“that’s the second time you broke a fucking rule.” hansol’s warm breath then tickles the cusp of your ear, “what’s wrong with you, huh? you like pissing me off, princess? you want me to punish you, fuck your tight, sweet little cunt until you can’t even walk, is that it?”

your heart is racing on pure adrenaline. severely unsure on whether to shake your head or simply bob in agreement, you accidentally release another tiny, conflicted squeak, one that rasps demurely from your lips. hansol snuffs angrily at that. before you can process what’s happening, there’s a tearing noise that has your head raising alarmingly from the bed.

the realization that hansol had just tore your underwear off doesn’t register until he’s pulling your head back with a hand wrapped firmly beneath the column of your throat. the light pink material presses into your mouth, and you’re left in a haze as the cloth effectively prohibits much noise from escaping your lips. hansol seems satisfied, his hand gently rubbing your ass.

he lends you another deep smack, scoffing at the way your fingernails scar crescent indents to the flesh of your palms, how you’re already trembling and leaving damp blotches on his jeans. in fact, as the cool air brushes against your slicked, throbbing core, you recall how your earlier orgasm had been justly purloined. you bite harshly into the fabric when hansol touches you.

“hmm, so wet, aren’t you?” the boy purrs, his tongue running along his razor-sharp teeth while he easily glides two fingers between your folds.

just for a moment, hansol massages tender circles to your clit, and your hips jerk in reaction to the new warm, embers of pleasure. he grins devilishly, “you like when daddy touches you here? right on this pretty spot?” he applies more pressure, and it feels inconceivably relieving. hansol chuckles low in his throat, “you’re shaking, sweetheart. you wanna cum all over my fingers?”

his statement isn’t far from the truth, and yet, any bliss is instantly snuffed out as hansol removes his touch, just as you could feel the liquid-heat begin to spread. you nearly mewl in frustration, though the makeshift gag in your mouth blocks the dying wisp of sound.

“not yet, angel.” hansol teases. “not until daddy fucks you apart on his cock.”

the next thing you know, hansol has you maneuvered so you’re face-down-ass-up into the pillows, the metal cuffs clinking at your spine as hansol nudges your legs further apart. you can hear him undressing, how he tosses each article onto the floor until his pale, hard body is completely bare. you squirm in anticipation, knowing how utterly helpless you remain.

however, rather than his cock at your entrance, you’re left startled and overwhelmed by pleasure as hansol leans down, instead using the tip of his tongue to lick a wet strip up your pussy. your jaw tenses around the gag, and your eyes squeeze shut upon hansol continuing to lave his slick, soft tongue against the flesh. he closes his mouth around your clit and suckles.

your hips immediately grind back against his face in utmost desperation. hansol’s brassy laugher rumbles deep into your core, just before he pulls away, not wanting to allow you more appeasement than necessary. as he gets onto one knee, a hand stroking his cock, and positions himself behind you, there’s a wicked gleam in the honeyed flame of his eyes.

“i couldn’t resist, sweetheart. the way you’re fucking dripping… just your scent is making it hard for me to contain myself.”

you already know he’s thinking about sinking his fangs deep into your tender, pliable skin.

his cock presses against your entrance. of course, hansol spends ample time teasing, simply running the swollen head between your slippery folds and tapping himself against your clit. yet, he leaves not on ounce of time for you to adjust when he finally decides to push himself inside you. immediately, he hits deep, to which you can feel his cock throbbing against your abdomen.

“ff-fuck,” hansol grits between his teeth, his hands locket-tight around your hips in order to keep you in place, “fuck, your pretty cunt is s-so warm, s-so fuckin’ t-tight… g-god…”

he slurs his words like there’s nothing but alcohol thick in his veins. you feel absolutely stuffed, right to the very hilt, your pussy stretched in the most pleasurable manner around his member. it isn’t until the boy begins thrusting at a hard, thorough pace that you can’t help but whine around the pink, fabric gag, though hansol seems to allow it for the time being.

there’s an impenetrable fire in his eyes as he rams into you, the bedframe jolting against the wall each time he draws his hips out, only to slam them forward, rough and unforgivingly. a heavy furrow burns itself onto your face, an expression twisted in the carnality that consumes you whole. hansol doesn’t go any easier on you, encompassed by his own extreme lust.

his leans over top your back with his hips still desperately rutting into you, and you whimper once more around the gag as hansol licks at the juncture between your neck and shoulder. the second he curls his lips back and his canines drag toward the sensitive, inner slope of your neck, a shiver melts beneath your flesh. he has yet to bite, just scrapes at your skin with a smirk.

but you develop an earnest notion that hansol won’t be able to resist his desire. likewise, you won’t be able to hold out much longer. the head of hansol’s cock pushes firm into your golden spot, consistently and at an overwhelmingly intense pace. the drool manages to accumulate at your chin regardless of the gag, and you forget the stinging sensation of the metallic cuffs.

“s-so close, aren’t you?” hansol hisses. “mmm, t-that’s it, princess. c-cum for daddy, okay?”

as soon as hansol reaches a hand between your legs and begins rubbing his thumb across your swollen clit, you shatter into pieces, your walls immediately suctioning tight around hansol’s cock, your arousal coating him until the noises of your own slick have you mewling in a conflict embarrassment and ecstasy. your contractions force hansol to experience his own release.

however, the boy is rather intent to capitalize on the unprecedented pleasure. upon feeling his cum shoot in prolonged, creamy spurts deep inside you, hansol simultaneously digs his fangs into a rather soft portion of your neck, instantly breaking the fragile skin. you cry out through the gag, tears slipping salty and hot down your face at the painful, thrumming sensation.

though hansol’s pace slows marginally, he still continues snapping his hips into you, his cum dripping slow, sticky and warm down the back of your thighs. after removing his teeth from the puncture wounds, hansol attaches his mouth over the slits and begins suckling, the tangy, copper-like taste of your blood gushing across his tongue. your lungs shake as you try to breath.

you turn your head, your cheek sinking into the pillowcase. it doesn’t take long before you note how the bedroom colours begin sponging together, like an artist mixing paint on their easel. a fuzziness blots your mind, and ever so slightly, you begin seeing double of certain objects. the more hansol drinks, the worse your vision becomes, until your eyes unwillingly flutter shut.

a few minutes pass, and you aren’t one-hundred percent sure what’s happening. very faintly, you can feel hansol softly lick over the wound at your neck, using his unique saliva to numb your pain and close the two holes. the strict metal confining your wrists seems to disappear, and at long last, you feel the gag gently being pulled out from your mouth.

hansol’s movements are incredibly ginger. he helps you roll onto your back, and the dim lights twinkle in the blurry corners of your vision for a lingering second. eventually, everything sorts itself back into one image, and you see hansol peering down at you with a tender look in his amber eyes. he strokes your cheek slowly, rests his forehead against yours as he kisses you.

you haven’t been able to exercise your vocal cords, so you shy from speaking. instead, you allow hansol to decorate your neck with sweet, solacing nips and licks, a state of drowsiness slowly impending upon you. however, no matter how sleepy you’re becoming, you manage to dryly chirp out the boy’s name as he moves down the bed to nuzzle between your thighs.

“ah—,” hansol cuts you off, “that’s not my name, darling.”

you swallow tautly, your heart hammering as you ask, “daddy, w-what are you doing?”

hansol only smirks at you while pulling your folds apart with his thumbs, observing how the thick streams of his cum pool slowly from your swollen entrance. your fingers clasp at the bedsheets, watching intently as hansol leans in close with a glaze in his eyes. suddenly, the boy spits on your pussy, his tongue then lapping at your sensitive flesh in fervent and warm licks.

immediately, an unexpected warble uproots from your chest. you attempt to close your thighs, though hansol pries them down with his strong grip. using one hand, he gathers some of his cum that had oozed out, then pushes it back inside your entrance, slipping his digits in right until the knuckle. you tilt your head back and weep, especially as his tongue flicks your clit.

“d-ddaddy! i-i c-can’t— o-oh, f-fuck, please! please be gentle…”

“hmm…” hansol curls his fingers perfectly against your g-spot, “but this is your punishment, sweetheart. i don’t care if you’re sensitive. you’ll take what i fucking give you, pretty baby.”

at that, hansol buries his face back into your core, lathering his wet tongue across your ruined silk while his fingers unforgivingly rut into that pliant, spongey patch. everything begins blurring again. your chest arches upon feeling hansol’s fangs brush your clit, their sharp edge just grazing the sore flesh and garnering a massive sob from your chest. hansol grins.

“that’s it, sweetheart,” he mumbles into your folds, his chin and mouth glimmering with a concoction of your arousal, “you gonna let go, hm? you gonna let go from me fingering my own cum back into your precious cunt? fuck, i might have to drink from you again, baby. your blood tastes so fucking good when i already have your cum on my tongue.”

the world collapses beneath you like a house of paper cards. you practically dig up up the bedsheets from their tightly tucked crevices, attempting to withstand the force of the orgasm that ripples throughout your exhausted frame. hansol abides by his earlier testament. he sinks his razored fangs deep into the inner meat of your thigh, creating another wound.

he suckles eagerly, in unbeknownst thirst, drawing the addicting, seraphic flavour of your blood onto his tongue. there’s a tingling sensation that follows suit. you feel the pins and needles in every vein. you allow hansol to freely drink, one of your hands falling atop his head so that you can shakily stroke his black hair. he hums contentedly, sensing your thigh tremble beneath him.

by the time he’s satisfied, you’re teetering on the edge of what feels like an eternal slumber and hollowed consciousness. hansol wipes the crimson trails from the corner of his mouth. he climbs back up your body, completely spent of all energy, and says something to you, though his words sound somewhat muffled. you’re overwhelmed with the urge to fall asleep.

unable to resist the heaviness in your body, you allow yourself to fade.

the next time your eyes slowly flutter open, you note that you’re still in bed, with a distant ache echoing at the side of your neck and inner thigh. the blankets pool around your waist as you sit up, to which you note that you’re wearing a clean pair of underwear and one of hansol’s soft, patterned flannels. there’s a water glass on the bedside table, and you drink from it gratefully.

“hey.” the bedroom door squeaks open, and hansol steps inside.

you smile toward him at first, mumbling a quiet “hi” in response, though you realize you wanted to ask him a question: “did i pass out or something?”

hansol sits on the edge of the bed, his lips then pressing in a sweet, comforting kiss to your forehead. he kisses your sore wrists too, still a little chaffed from the metal cuffs, and nods empathetically. you see that his eyes are no longer an amber blaze, but their usual, mellow shade of chocolate. he replies in a gentle tone, to which you can read the apologetic, lighthearted nature that tends to warm his face after rough sex.

“you fell straight asleep. i think i was too hard on you, babe. i shouldn’t have fucking emptied you like a juice box, huh?”

laughter rumbles in your throat, and you shake your head.

“no, it was fine! i know you would never take enough to hurt me.”

hansol’s gaze seems to twinkle over with an arduous sentiment, one that makes your chest feel as though it’s made from pink cloud and stardust. you love the way he looks at you, like you’re the most important thing he’s ever known (and hansol has known many, many people in his often cold and lonesome lifetimes). he’s just thankful to have met someone like you.

“i love you.” hansol hums while soothingly tracing circles to the bitemark on your thigh.

of course, you end up pulling hansol down into the bedsheets with you to cuddle. even though the possibility lingers that you could dose off again, hansol doesn’t mind. as long as he has the opportunity to stare wonderfully at your pretty face, he wouldn’t ever have a problem with it.

[its-sir-actually]

My thoughts whilst watching 3x20

-The psychopaths are flirting, how cute. The seelie queen definitely wants the demon D 🍆 Maybe if Jonathan got laid he'd chill the fuck out a bit more 🤔🤔

-Oh FFS Clary you just ruined the seelie queen and Jonathan's vibe...but that bitch slap was glorious (pun absolutely intended)

-Clary! Stop getting jealous and flirting with your fucking BROTHER 🤢🤢

-WE'RE COMING 😭😭😭😭 AFTER YOU 😭😭 THIS IS THE HUNT 😭😭😭😭😭 this is the hunt 😢😭💔💕

-A fucking pretzel 🤣🥨

-Asmodeus I know you're evil but I enjoy you so much...now go get your son's apartment back

-Alec is so done already and it's only his first scene 😂 remove yourself from his presence Meliorn, you're not going to win this battle.

-Jace's puppy dog eyes and THAT pleading voice will always get him what he wants...Meliorn took one look and was like ok I'll leave a secret passageway open for you (and it won't be the only secret passageway open for you if you know what I mean 😉😏)

-Izzyyyyyy ❤ The New York institute would fall apart without this girl!

-Mama Lightwood 💕 Ohhh that Luke and Maryse look...they're going to be such a power couple!

-"If I did or said anything to offend the two of you" OMG she's grown so much and I love her with all my heart 😍💕😍

-He gave the ring back 😢 Mama Lightwood please fix your silly boys

-Lorenzo's plethora of portraits of himself is such a mood!

-Lorenzo shat himself a little bit when he saw that Magnus had his magic back and then he fully shat himself when he saw Asmodeus 😂

-Hahahaha fuck me...he turned him into a fucking lizard 🤣🤣🤣🤣 I'm fully crying right now

-That's the Malec closing the portal to Edom beach! They like filming on this beach when Malec are broken up...also Jordan you are very boring

-Oh Luke, these praetor boys have your nuts in a vice

-Great, these creeps are flirting again 🤢 at least she didn't let him kiss her

-Mama Lightwood is about to fix everything 💕💕 Side note: it's so good to see Magnus opening the door to his apartment again!

-"Stop, you know I love you" did I mention that I love her? 💕

-😲😲 she showed him the ringgggg! Now Magnus knows that Alec was going to propose to him 😁💕

-Am I a bad person because I'm kinda happy Jordan's going to die?

-Hahaha they put Lorenzo (Lizenzo Reyptile 🦎😂) in a tank 🤣🤣🤣

-FUCK HIM UP MAGNUS!

-Wow! Magnus SNAPPED! Cya later Asmodeus 👋🏼 it's been real

-"Rest easy brother, we can finally restore the Morganstern name" who the fuck talks like that?

-Did Clary just threaten my queen Izzy? Be prepared to die bitch!

-Alec and that goddamn bow 😍😍 fuck em up boo

-Does that mean that Clary's vision is also impaired?...Oh no she's fine...I guess the twinning rune isn't working today 🤷🏽‍♀️

-The most unrealistic thing I've ever seen on this show is that Clary Fairchild was able to knock down the absolute warrior princess that is Isabelle Lightwood.

-Never thought I'd say this but you turned up at the right moment Simon!

-YES JACE! Now stab her again just for fun 👍🏼

-Ohhh shittttt! That twinning rune was really holding Jonathan back...I'm so ready to see evil Jonathan!

-Izzy saved Simon and got hurt! My queeeeeeeen 💕👑

-This heavenly fire serum storyline is BORINGG right now...please make it more interesting or make it go away.

-Sizzy 💕 Who knew pulling shrapnel out of a person could be so romantic? I'm enjoying this slow burn, they're going to be so amazing once they actually get together 💕

-Oh no...how sad...Jordan's died 😏 I do feel sorry for Maia but I'm so ready to see pack alpha Maia!

-Heyyy Heline 👋🏼 "I ran into Aline and her..." Oh Alec you really do need to learn how to be a bit more subtle 😂 also look at how proud he looks

-"wE WeRE jUSt doINg ReSEarCh" that smirk Mr Lightwood 😏😏

-These Lightwood siblings are about to make you regret coming to earth Mr Demon

-MAGNUS! "Traffic was hell" 🤣🤣

-Clary ya boring and ya basic 💁🏽‍♀️

-YASSSSS ALEC GRAB THAT MAN BY THE LAPELS AND SMOOCH THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE! 💕❤💕❤💋💋

-Magnus, my boy, you are a gift from heaven 😇 the amount of times Magnus Bane has saved the shadowhunters asses is hilarious!

-Oh! OHH! It's happening...It's actually happening!! 💕❤💕

-"Alexander Gideon Lightwood, will you marry me?" "Only if you'll marry me too" ❤💕❤

-The rings ❤ The mutual proposals ❤ The I love you's ❤ Pure perfection!

-Don't worry my teary eyed boy, you'll have him back soon 💕

-Alec is usually so emotionally composed and to see him cry and fall to his knees is deeply upsetting but at least he has his family around him right now

[jinships-ideas]

BTS Run 59 & 60 - The Jin Harem

I took a short break but here’s the 2-part special! 58 will be up soon (hopefully)  Let’s just begin~

We start off this Hotel episode with a cheap yoonjin knee-touch moment!

You know what? 

After the yoonjin drought that was 57 & 58, 

WE’LL GLADLY TAKE IT!

Joon eyeing Jin scratching his leg

Petition for Yoonjinjoon to always be seated next to each other

Our OT3 heart is weeping in joy

Jimin using Jin’s knee to push himself forward~

Small but very appreciated Jinmin moment right there!

Namjin Handshake after discovering they were partners

Yoongs: Really? In front of my salad?

Joon scooting closer to Jin 

T^T

Namjin being off in their own isolated side

T^T

Dear Namjin,

You’ve been missed

Look at these nerds looking so ecstatic about being ‘Team Kim Seokjin’

WhO nEeDs JiN wHeN wE cAn BeCoMe JiN?

Jin: But I’m Right here? Team Kim Seokjin: LOLOLOLOL

2 more nerds joined in with the Seokjin Team train

Jin: Really? Ya’ll just gonna do me like this? Joon: Nah. This ain’t it

The infamous ‘couple watch’ that got Namjin shippers worldwide crying 

Namjinists: WHO SAID NAMJIN WAS DEAD? Namjin: We did.

Touchy Jin back at it again 

His willing target: Joon

Chim really threw himself to shove Jin with a whole Tae in between...

MAD UWU VIBES

JOON FINALLY BRAVED HIMSELF TO TOUCH JIN’S THIGH

Tae: This ain’t it Chim: *not accepting what just happened* Yoongs: Keep yo hands to yourself or you won’t have any JK: My fists can fly all the way there. Hobi: Enjoy it while you can... I’ll unalive you later

Biggest mystery: HOW TF is JIN STILL ALIVE WHEN HE IS IN SUCH CLOSE PROXIMITY TO JOON’S MEGA-WATT SMILE??

Tae smiling to himself at Jin’s incorrect team name

Tae kindly reminding Jin his ACTUAL team name

:’)

Kim seokjin’s guardian angel back at it with his job

On the other hand...

JK looks so happy after the Producer teased Jin about his incorrect answer

The editors are such cowards to not give us a full shot angle of Joon grabbing Jin’s wrists with a full on happy smile 

GIVE US THE NAMJIN CONTENT WE DESERVE!!!

Namjin: *flirting* Chim: *Represents us Namjin shippers* YESSSSS Tae: *non-namjin shippers* I did NOT ask for this

Jk smiling after he corrected Jin’s team name 

Jk is that guy that enjoys teasing his crush but feels happy after helping them too

LOOK AT NAMJIN’S HAPPINESS AFTER (They think) THEY GOT THE RIGHT ANSWER

In the excitement, Jin actually grabbed Joon’s whistle

But he let it go so Joon could properly grasp his hands in his own

THIS IS NAMJIN 

The show producer: Not the hero we asked for, but the hero we needed

We have Jin laughing while looking at Joon since he messed up their team name (for the umpteenth time)

We have Chim laughing at Jin’s mistake

JINMIN spotted with matching scrunched up laughing faces 

JK laughing at Jin’s mistake and cuteness

Namjin - Lost the point

But did they really lose though?

When they are looking like a million bucks while being so happy?

Jin CLEARLY was gunning for a hug

BUT JOON THE COWARD PUT UP HIS HANDS 

So Jin switched for a hand grab instead

We may have lost a Namjin Hug scene

But we will gladly accept any penny of Namjin content we can get...

Let it remain though, that Jin was AIMING FOR A HUG...

Jin JUMPED UP in excitement

Namjin: *finally gets the point*

Joon: *did NOT get the point that Jin was aiming for a hug*

All the members looking glad for Namjin’s point XD

they really SUCKED at the game so much that the others are glad for them 

Yoongs staring at Jin from afar...

Ft. WTF is Jimin doing, rubbing Tae’s knee for no reason while sitting like a penguin?

IDK why, but I’M HERE FOR IT.

A post about Vmin moments? 

Jimin is US

HE IS ONE OF US NAMJIN SHIPPERS

Jimin: *A full-fledged Namjinist* Tae: *someone in the midst of becoming a full-fledge Namjinist*

Jimin: *trying to convert his fellow members to be Namjinists* Yoongs: Ok fine... Namjin is Kinda cute JK: I’m Onboard this Namjin train Hobi: *Still unconvinced*

THIS IS SO COUPLE-LIKE?

Person A whining and complaining about being teased by X to Person B

Meanwhile, Person B just enjoying his view of Person A

Jin casually looking at Joon’s face for inspiration...

T^T

He even gulped while staring at Joon...

If it’s not obvious by now, Namjin are just flaunting their moments in this entire hotel-based run

Jin: *literally falling due to a lack of balance since his legs are lifted*

Jin: *DOES NOT LET THE OPPORTUNITY OF HOLDING JOON’S HAND GO*

THIS IS PURE BLISS

For them and for us

Of course, Joon never leaves anyone asking for a high-5 hanging

The same can’t be said about the rest of BTS though...

-Insert sad violin music + all the times Joon’s hand has been left ignored-

Jin casually stroking Joon’s arms

Jin also proceeds to rant and nag Joon about not participating even when he knows Joon can get the point

Tae: That should be me...

Hands on thigh 

all day every day

Of course, Joon gets hit when he gets it wrong XD

BLESS THIS ENTIRE 2 EPISODES 

It has given us more Namjin content than the crumbs we’ve gotten for the past 2-3 years T^T

Jin instinctively reaches for the arm that is close to him...

But he pushes it away after realizing that Tae was fishing for the answer from Joon

XD

BIGGEST UWU

Credit: Hobi who made Jin smile like this

Tae... Jin isn’t in your team XD

Don’t discuss with him

Tae listening in on Namjin XD 

HAHAHAHAAH

OMG 

NAMJOON WAS GIVING JIN FINGER HEARTS 

OMGOMGOMGOMG

I touch you

You touch me

We’re just happy Namjinists~

(Please read in the Barney theme song tune)

I’M SHAKING 

JIN?

FALLING INTO JOON?

YES PLEASE

Joon looks as though Jin sucker punched his arm or something XD

Don’t worry, he was groaning at getting the lyrics wrong, not from jin’s soft slap across his arm

Joon’s guns can take a few hits from jin

Namjoon? non non

ARMJoon is what he is

You think that’s it? NON NON

We are jumping straight into episode 60!

Let’s Get it~

Bubbly Jin casually touching Tae’s exposed knee~

Joon swerving out of Jin’s reach after he got the translations wrong

He knew he was gonna get hit

This is domestic

Noobs? NO

Noots? YES

Now we know, Jin nags/scolds in uwu-mode

noot!Jin with his pouty lips ranting at Joon for not trying hard enough at the game 

(Please jin, you didn’t even get any right XD let Joon live XD )

JUSTICEFORJIMIN2K19

I love Joon, I love Jin

BUT LET’S BE REAL 

JIMIN DID FANTASTIC 

He practically gave everyone the answer but got snubbed XD

JUSTICEFORJIMIN!!!

Jin shaking his hand around until Joon grabs it 

DOMESTICITY AT IT’S FINEST

That Taejin eye contact

Ft. Jin’s smile at Tae’s adorableness

(Notes: I actually have the same bunny hat thingy and being the crackhead that I am, I wore it while re-watching + writing this post)

This is crackhead culture

Jin: Let me just put my xxthousand dollars watch on this white fluffy thing

Tae’s cute face when he saw Jin’s antics 

TAEJIN IS SO FCKING GREAT

WE LIVE 

Ft. Namjoon eyeing the whole exchange

What do you know?

Namjoon immediately does the same with his xxthousand dollars watch

Namjin = crackhead duo

Couple watch + couple watch on bunny hat 

Jin and Tae whining about wanting to eliminate Hobi from the game since he failed the round

Production team loves hobi ok? LET HIM LIVE

Hobi shooting love rays at Jin with his aegyo voice and his flapping bunny ears~

FORGIVE HIM JIN!

LOOK AT THE ADORABLENESS

HOW DO YOU NOT?!

Jin cheekily laughing it off when Joon whined about Jin’s team-kill move 

Ft. Tae patting Jin’s back

Jin: Your name was all I could remember

IF THAT AIN’T A CONFESSION OF SORTS, IDK WHAT IS

That’s some romantic shit ok?

After that line, Jin proceeds to put his hand on Joon’s leg...

Mayhaps I’m a happy Namjinist

Ft. Bangtan being fellow Namjin shippers

Jin cheering on bunny!Joon who is up against real!bunny!JK with a smack on the back

Cheap!Jinmin moment where chim’s foot touches jin’s

But we’re desperate rn so we’ll take all that we can get

Tae’s knee touching Jin’s leg~

There’s plenty of space and Jin even lifted his legs to take up more space but...

Taejin: MUST.BE.CLOSER

Once again, Jimin is channeling his inner Namjinist

Mayhaps I alive’nt

Jin: Why are you snacking when there’s a priceless snacc right beside you? Joon: *nom* Jin: HECK! I’M AN ENTIRE FULL-COURSE MEAL!

Touchy Jin back at it again

His small and subtle nudges sends

His cotton bud fists

T^T

Dear Namjin,

Please NVR stop flirting

Sincerely,

EVERYONE

Jin’s little happy grab

Joon looking pleased AF 

Happy Namjin is the BEST Namjin

NAMJOON YOU BIG DUMB DUMB

JIN OBVIOUSLY WANTED A HUG FROM YOU

T^T

HUGSFORJIN2K19

Because of Joon’s bad timing, they ended up with hand holding again

Joon you dummy

Jin CLEARLY GRabbed ONTO JOON’S HAND

but Joon the panicked boy hand to snatch his hand out of jin’s cotton bud grip

KIM NAMJOON. STOP PULLING AWAY!!!

As much as I nag about Joon ruining Namjin moments...

Is his arm alright?

Jin has hit it for god knows how many times...

PLease let ARMJOON be ok...

Tae: Seriously? Haven’t they had enough? Yoongs: That could’ve been me... JK: JUST SAY YOU WANT TO HOLD HIS HAND AND GO Joon: Who cares what you gays think. I’m marrying him. Chim: I’ve honestly seen enough Namjin for a long time Hobi: Disgusting

JUST HOLD HIS HAND FFS JOON

Yoongi becomes humble in front of a nagging Jin

XD

IF THAT AINT DOMESTiCITY

Taejinists, we got some crumbs too!

This frame might seem normal to you guys

BUT take note that Jin was sitting with his right leg outstretched behind Joon

Which means when Joon leaned back, his arm was encasing Jin’s leg towards himself...

See it to believe it

This is some boyfriend culture right there

Namjoon probably thought no one would notice since everyone was distracted with the candy counting

BUT WE SEE IT ALL 

T^T

Tae complaining that his scissors was ignored to a smiley jin

Jinnie happily hitting Joon before leaning into Joon’s thigh

Seriously those 2 are so domestic 

WE LOVE

Is this love, yeah Is this love, yeah Sometimes I know, yeah Sometimes I don't, yeah

They’ve got both hands clutched together

IF THIS AIN’T YOUR SHIP

IDK WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU

Happiness radiates off them

There’s probably so many mentions of them leaning into each other to whisper already

But this bij will never get tired of it

This is Namjin teasing Jimin about his phrasing of words

Namjin are the evil uncles that make fun of the ones younger than them

They are being so comfortable with each other

Jin’s knee is practically on Joon’s thigh

And they are leaning against each other’s side

T^T

We’ve REALLY missed Namjin a lot

BLESS THIS TEamINg

That’s all for this post! 

Hopefully, BTS Run 58 - The Jin Harem will come soon...

Hope you guys enjoyed the 2-part special!

Until Next time~

[everlastingcaptainswan]

Since We’re Alone (11/?) Celebrity Fake Dating AU 

Summary: Killian Jones punched another bouncer in the face and Emma Swan threatened the paparazzi who got too close to her. With both their reputations at risk their managers pull together a deal that sure to gain them better press coverage. Who can resist watching two attractive people fall in love?

Notes: Hi there, guys. Hope everyone has had a good week. This chapter is a little bit longer than usual just because you guys waited so patiently! Hope you like it. Also just a disclaimer I have no idea how the legal system works, so just bare with me for the next couple chapters and remember this is a work of fiction. Thanks for reading! 

FF           Ao3 

Chapter 11: The Son 

Previously… 

“Henry’s adoptive parents just died in a car crash and they had no other living relatives that can take care of him. He’s about to go into the foster system,” Regina tells her.

“What? Excuse me?” Emma asks, shocked. She blinks at Regina a few times, not really sure what is happening right now.

“Henry, he’s going into the foster system,” Regina says rather expectantly.

“Regina, you’re looking at me like I can do something about it!” Emma raises her voice.

“You’re his mo-” Regina starts and Emma stops her right there.

“No, I’m not. I gave up that right the moment his parents took him home,” Emma snaps.

“That was true then, but now he has no one and is about to go into a system that is less than perfect,” Regina snaps back. Emma throws her hands in the air.

“What can I even do?”  

“I’m working with a family lawyer right now to see what can be done, but you could go meet him. I talked to the temporary foster home he’s in and the foster mom there said you could visit if he’s okay with it,” Regina suggests and Emma’s heart is hammering in her chest. She never thought she would be able to meet him. Emma had closed off that part of her heart years ago. She did it to protect herself. Now this boy, her little boy needs her. It’s overwhelming and her head is spinning. She feels a hand on her shoulder and jumps at the contact. Killian is staring at her, concern in his gaze.

“Swan?” he asks her quietly. Now not only her head is spinning, but the room is spinning too. Emma grabs Killian’s arm as her knees buckle beneath her, everything going black.

Panic raises through Killian as he takes Emma into his arms, not letting her fall to the ground.

“Regina, call a damn doctor and David too,” Killian shouts over his shoulder. He carries Emma up to his room and lies her on his bed. He sits on the edge and kisses her head.

“Emma, my love,” he whispers before pressing a kiss into her hand. After a few panic filled minutes (for Killian) Emma wakes up. She finds a concerned Killian sitting on the edge of the bed. Emma reaches up and touches his face.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she whispers. Emma tries to lift her head, but finds the room spins once again. Emma lies back down.

“Yeah I’m not sure that’s entirely true, my love. Especially when you fainted and I had to carry you upstairs,” Killian tells her, clutching to her hand. Regina knocks on the door, but stay in the doorway.

“I called Whale, he can be here in a few minutes. The foster mom called back, Henry agreed to meet you,” she tells them, looking between the two of them.

“Oh okay that’s good. You called a doctor?” Emma sighs, looking to Killian.

“Thanks, Regina,” Killian says. Regina nods and leaves them be.

“Of course I called a doctor you collapsed in my arms! Of course I called a doctor,” a tone of desperation in his voice. She brings his hand to her lips and kisses it softly.

“I know, I’m sorry.” Emma squeezes her eyes shut.

“You scared me there for a second, Emma. What happened?” He asks her, his hand still gripping hers tightly. Her eyelids flutter open and sighs.

“I got overwhelmed. Regina told me Henry’s adoptive parents died and she thinks I should go meet him,” Emma says nervously.

“Do you want to meet him?” Killian asks her, unsure.

“Of course I do. I just never thought I would be able to… what if he doesn’t like me?” she asks him tearing up. Killian embraces her.

“Oh he’ll love you. He might have a lot of questions at first, but he’ll love you,” He says softly. One of her tears spills down onto his shoulder.

“Jones, away from my patient. I need to examine her,” Doctor Whale says from the doorway. The doctor is tall and thin with blond hair. He’s wearing a nice suit and carrying a black leather bag. Killian kisses Emma’s forehead and releases her.

“Still an ass I see, Whale,” Killian mumbles as he moves aside.

“You pulled me away from dinner with a stunning redhead, what did you expect?” Whale says playfully, “Now, are you going to leave or what?” Whale raises an eyebrow.

“I’m staying,” Killian says harshly.

“He can stay. It’s fine,” Emma says and tries to give him a reassuring smile.

“Alright, I’m going to take your vitals and then I’ll have a few questions for you alright?” She nods. After completing his physical exam Whale perches himself on the edge of the bed while Killian paces behind him.

“It’s Emma, right?” She nods, “We’ll get the awkward ones out of the way first, when was your last menstrual cycle?” Killian’s head snaps up and he looks to her with wide eyes. Emma just shakes her head.

“A week ago,” she states.

“Alright, not pregnant. Any underlying medical conditions?” She shakes her head and he moves on.

“When was the last time you got a full night’s sleep?” He asks her. Her shoulders slump at this question.

“What would you consider a full night’s sleep?” she asks.

“Minimum eight hours,” Whale answers quickly and Emma winces.

“Then it’s been a couple of weeks,” she admits. Whale sighs and she can feel Killian’s glare without even looking at him.

“Then this all probably happened because of exhaustion and slight dehydration. Get some much needed rest and drink more water,” Whale says as he gathers all his instruments back into his black bag, “Don’t hesitate to call if anything else happens.” He shakes Emma’s hand and nods toward Killian before walking out.

“Emma,” Killian starts.

“Killian,” she says back.

“You need to take care of yourself,” he says sitting back down on the bed.

“I know. We’re just trying to finish filming and there were a lot of weird hours. I’ll be fine,” She says and tries to get up out of the bed. Killian places a hand on her shoulder.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“The whole thing with Henry. I should drive down to San Diego. Regina says she’s working on the legality of this. I should be there,” she explains.

“What good are you going to be to Henry if you can’t even take care of yourself?” Killian snaps and she winces at this.

“He’s right you know,” David calls from the doorway with a worried Mary Margaret at his side. Emma’s gaze finds them. David comes into the room and hugs her tightly. Mary Margaret practically shoves David out of the way to hug her.

“Also I don’t want anymore phone calls saying you’ve collapsed. I have a kid on the way I don’t need to be worried about my other kid too,” he jokes, but holds her tightly.

“Ah well what are friends for,” she chuckles as David finally releases her. David finally spots Killian there and gives him a nod.

“Not funny, Emma. We were seriously worried,” Mary Margaret scolds her.

“I’ll give you guys a minute,” Killian kisses her forehead, “I’ll grab you some water as well.”

“Thanks,” she smiles. David and Mary Margaret wait for him to leave before saying anything.

“Emma, what the hell?” he asks her. Mary Margaret places her hands on her hips.

“I just went through this with Killian, now I have to do it with you guys too?” she says throwing her head back.

“He’s right you have to take care of yourself. Regina told us about Henry… what do you want to do?” Mary Margaret asks her.

“I have no clue what I can do. I just know I don’t want him in foster care. I don’t want him to end up like me. I don’t want him to be alone,” she admits.

“Maybe we should work on you getting him then,” David says cautiously.

“But….” she shakes her head.

“But what?”

“What if he doesn’t want me or he hates me?” she asks the question that’s been eating away at her.

“Oh Emma no. You’ll be a great mom. He’ll love you, I promise. Right now he’s alone and with you he won’t be. This will be hard, but I believe in you,” David says and a tear streaks down Emma’s cheek.

“Thanks David.” Emma wipes away the tear.

“Anytime. Now are you going to tell me what the doctor said?” Mary Margaret pesters her. Emma rolls her eyes.

“Exhaustion and dehydration,” Killian says as he walks back into the room handing Emma a glass of water.

“You’re drinking all of that,” Mary Margaret tells her. Emma just grumbles cursing all of them before taking a sip.

“You’re not driving to San Diego tonight either,” Killian says with a warning tone.

“Oh so you’re in charge of me now?” Emma snaps.

“Of course not, but you’re in no shape to drive and if you’re going to insist on making dumb decisions then yes I am going to stop you,” Killian points out and Emma just rolls her eyes and drinks some more water.

“Ems, you know he’s right,” David says with a raised eyebrow.

“Fine, but I’m going first thing tomorrow.”

“I expected nothing less from you. Look, I’ll take you in the morning. Don’t argue I don’t want to worry about you on the road,” David tells her and Emma nods. Mary Margaret hugs her tight then they say their goodbyes and the married couple leaves.

“Is everyone still downstairs?” Emma asks.

“Regina and obviously Liam are still here. Do you want to talk to Regina about Henry?” he asks and she nods. He kisses her head before going downstairs. A couple minutes later Killian reappears with Regina at his side.

“You’re looking better Miss Swan,” Regina says.

“Thank you. I don’t want Henry in the system. I did that and I don’t want that for him, I never did. That’s why we arranged a private adoption. I want him with me. He shouldn’t be alone out there. Do you think you and your family lawyer can help me do that?” she asks carefully, not wanting to get her hopes up.

“We can try our best. Get some rest and we’ll make a plan in the morning,” Regina tells her.

“Thank you,” Emma says and Regina nods before leaving. Killian stares at Emma in awe.

“Do you think I am crazy for trying to get him back?” Emma asks and Killian climbs into bed with her.  

“No, not at all. He deserves to have a family, someone who cares for him. He deserves you,” Killian says while bringing her into his arms. Emma buries her head into his chest and it doesn’t take long for sleep to overcome her.

Despite all the sleep she got last night Emma falls asleep in the car too. She rubs the sleep out of her eyes sitting up in the passenger seat.

“Shit, are we there yet?” Emma asks David.

“No, about an hour out. You slept for a while there. Ems, why didn’t you tell me things were so bad with Zelena?” David says flipping on the turn signal on before merging.

“Hell cause I barely noticed it was bad. I was either on set or in my hotel room asleep then back to set. I didn’t have many days off or down time, which I didn’t mind. I wanted to get back here, back to Killian,” she shakes her head.

“I didn’t realize things with him were so serious. I knew both of you had developed feelings, but I didn’t think it was anything like this,” he says, carefully.

“Is that a bad thing?” Emma asks starting to get defensive.

“No, of course not. You’re happy and that’s all I want for you. It was just an observation,” he shrugs. For the first time in a while she was happy and it was different for her. It was wonderful to spend the night in Killian’s arms, to be with him when she woke up. It hurt to leave him this morning.

“Emma, I’ll take you down there you shouldn’t do this alone,” Killian tells her at breakfast. Regina scoffs.

“You can’t, you have rehearsal and with the tour around the corner you cannot miss any rehearsals,” Regina said with a point look before her gaze returns to her phone.

“Regina’s right. Besides you should be spending time with Liam anyway. David called and he’s offered to drive me there,” she pulls him away from Regina, “I love how supportive you are, but I think this is just something I need to do on my own.” Her eyes searching his for disappointment, she never finds it.

“I understand completely. I just want you know I’m here,” he whispers before pressing a kiss into her forehead.

“I know you are. I love you,” she whispers.

“I love you too,” he says with a smile on his face. Emma didn’t want to leave him this morning. She has to do this, but she just got back. Emma didn’t want to leave him again.

“Have you figured out what to say to Henry?” David asks her, breaking her train of thought.

“Not really. I thought I would just say what felt right in the moment,” Emma shrugs. David just gives her a look that can only be understood as you-cannot-possibly-be-this-stupid.

“What?” she asks.

“Emma, no you need to come up with something, hell anything,” David says with a stern look.

“That I’m his mother and I don’t want him in the foster system,” she sighs. David can be an ass sometimes.

“What about when he asks why you haven’t been around,” David says and Emma winces at this.

“David, do you have a problem with all of this because now would be the time to say something,” Emma says clenching her fists.

“No, but perhaps you haven’t exactly thought this through,” he points out.

“No, I have. He will not be subjected to hells of the foster system like I was. It may seem rushed, but goddamn if I can help his pain be a little bit less than so be it,” she snaps at him. Knowing he’s crossed a line David simply nods and shuts his mouth. The car ride from there is mostly silent.

The house mother at the foster home is waiting for Emma when she gets there. David stays in the car waiting for her.

“You must be Miss Swan. I’m Mrs. Scott,” the elderly woman with gray hair greets her.

“Nice to meet you,” Emma nods as the woman lets her into the house.

“You as well dear. Henry is in through the living room here,” She says as she guides Emma into the living room. Henry has brown shaggy hair, brown eyes, and a round face. Emma’s heart skips a beat, he’s absolutely perfect. He is patiently waiting on an old brown couch, the room smelling musty with a bookshelf against one wall. Emma’s left speechless at the sight of him.

“I’ll give you two some time,” Mrs. Scott says before leaving the room. Emma turns back to Henry who she finds is taking her in.

“You’re my biological mom?” he asks her.

“Yes, I am,” she says moving closer and sitting on the opposite end of couch.

“I mean I knew it was you before you know…” Henry trails off, his gaze unfocused, “They told me and Dad actually really liked your movies.” He says tearing up a bit.

“That’s pretty cool, did you watch them with your dad?” she asks, unsure of what else to say. He shakes his head quickly.

“No, Mom said I wasn’t old enough, but one time Dad let me watch one. You were really good in it,” Henry tells her.

“Thanks, kid. What do you like to do outside school?” she asks, wanting to know more about him.

“I really like comic books and soccer. Are you really dating Killian Jones?!?” He asks excitedly.

“What- how do you?” she asks surprised, a smile spreading across her face.

“It’s been all over the tabloids and stuff. Mom always pretended she didn’t read that stuff, but I always caught her looking in line at the grocery store,” he shrugs. When she looks at him she can see the hurt in his eyes, the pain of losing someone. How it can tear you apart from the inside. Emma wishes he never had to know that pain.

“Killian and I are dating,” she nods and Henry smiles, which might be the best thing in the world.

“That’s so cool! Dad and I liked to listen to Black Sails together. He was starting to show me bands he liked,” Henry says sadly. This time the tears fall freely down his cheeks. Without even thinking about it Emma pulls him into a hug, letting her thin sweater soak up the tears. She rubs his back.

“I know it hurts, kid. It’s okay to cry,” she whispers to him. Henry cries for a few minutes before the tears stop and his breathing slows down. Emma finds some tissues on the coffee table and hands him some. Henry dries his face and blows his nose.

“When Mrs. Scott asked me if I wanted to meet you she mentioned that you want me to live with you… Is that true?” he asks unsure.

“I would like to, but only if that’s what you want,” she tells him.

“I-” he starts, but then Mrs. Scott walks back in.

“I’m sorry to interrupt Miss Swan, but dinner is starting here shortly and I have other kids to feed besides Henry here. You’re more than welcome to come back tomorrow,” the elderly lady says curtly. Emma looks to Henry and sees the disappointed look on his face. She wants to stay and finish their conversation.

“Hey kid, I’ll be back tomorrow and we’ll talk some more. When do you get out of school?” she asks him.

“Three o’clock,” he tells her. Henry’s face lighting up with a smile. She wants that smile to always be there.

“Then I’ll be here,” she smiles back.

“Go wash up, Henry. Dinner will be ready shortly,” Mrs. Scott orders him. He frowns, but waves goodbye to Emma before running off.

“Miss Swan,” Mrs. Scott prompts her. Emma stands and Mrs. Scott escorts her out of the house. Once the door shuts and the lock slides into place Emma stops holding back her tears. They flow freely down her face. Emma walks quickly over towards where David parked the car and slides into the passenger seat.

“Drive,” Emma says through her tears. David hurriedly starts the car and drives off.

After a couple minutes of silence David speaks, “Did it not go well?” The concern apparent in his voice.

“No it did. I just didn’t want him to see me crying through the window or something,” she says while drying her eyes, “David, I have to get him out of there. He’s a sweet, kind kid. He needs a parent. Not a house where he’s just another kid there,” She takes a deep breath in order to calm herself.

“Ems, we are doing everything we can in order for you to be his parent,” David reassures her.

“I know,” she nods, looking at the scenery pass them by as they pass through the streets of San Diego.

“I thought you’d stay longer,” he comments.

“They were about to have dinner. I’m going back tomorrow when he gets out of school,” she tells him.

“That will be really good. I know I didn’t seem supportive earlier, but I do think this is a good thing,” she smiles appreciatively, “I got us a couple of hotel rooms for a few nights. I think you should go get some rest and I’ll find out what progress Regina has made,” David informs her. Emma nods. She could definitely use a nap right about now, despite having a full nights sleep.

After crawling into bed at the hotel Emma can’t seem to get comfortable enough to fall asleep. She pulls out her phone and calls Killian. After a few rings in he picks up, “Hello, my love,” his voice fills her ear causing her to smile.

“Hi there,” she says, her voice a little nasally from crying.

“How did it go?” he asks, concerned.

“Killian, he’s a great kid. He shouldn’t be there. He deserves a good home,” she sighs.

“Of course he does. I have no doubt he’ll get that with you,” Killian reassures her. Emma hears some shouting in the background.

“Did I interrupt rehearsal? Do you need to go?” she asks.

“No, they knew I was waiting for your call. It’s just Will being his usual charming self. We have a few minutes,” he tells her. She shifts her phone to her other ear.

“No, I should let you go,” she says, feeling guilty.

“Definitely not. Don’t tell Regina, but I don’t give a damn about rehearsal. You’re more important,” he tells her. A slight blush creeps into her cheeks.

“I definitely won’t tell Regina. She’ll have your head for that,” she chuckles softly.

“What’s he like?” Killian asks.

“He’s kind and curious. He likes comics, soccer, and you,” Emma says, waiting for his reaction.

“Me?”

“Apparently his dad introduced him to Black Sails,” she says, sadness creeping into her voice.

“Oh gods, Emma,” Killian says, his voice cracking.

“I know. He cried and I couldn’t help, but to pull him into my arms. I don’t know how to help him exactly, but I can’t stand the thought of him alone in the world,” she explains tears welling in her eyes again.

“He’s not alone. The lad has you,” he says, his voice wavering slightly. There’s another shout in the background.

“I’m afraid I have to go now, my love,” he sighs.

“I understand.”

“I’ll call you tonight. I love you,” he says, sweetly.

“I love you too. We’ll talk later,” she smiles. They exchange goodbyes and hang up. Emma drifts off to sleep shortly after.

After being able to sleep for a few hours calls Mary Margaret.

“Oh Emma, I wish I was there,” Mary Margaret says the moment she picks up the phone.

“I know you would be, if you could. You’ve got to be on set. Although I thought David said you were quitting or something,” Emma says sitting up in bed.

“I’m not, David wants me to quit. I’m not an invalid, I’m pregnant. Anyway I’d get bored all day at home,” she scoffs.

“You do what you think is best. David just worries about you,” Emma reminds her.

“I know, but this is the twenty first century rest isn’t necessary and children are expensive. Don’t get me wrong I am so excited to meet this little boy or girl, but they are going to be expensive. Also I like my job,” Mary Margaret rants on. Emma lets her go on sensing her friend needs to get this out.

“I can’t imagine not working and you like to keep busy,” Emma adds on.

“Exactly, see you get it. Anyway, this is not why you called. You called to talk about Henry,” Mary Margaret says waiting expectantly. She’s done this before she will wait all day for Emma to say what’s on her mind. Mary Margaret is fully aware that Emma hates when she does this. Emma sighs knowing she should just spit it out.

“What if I’m not a good mother? I mean I gave him up,” Emma says rather quickly. Mary Margaret scoffs.

“Oh Emma. No, you’re going to be a great mother. You’ve already made sacrifices for him,” Mary Margaret reminds her.

“What?”

“Emma, you gave him up for a better life. You had no idea you’d have money and fame when you were a scared eighteen year old. You put aside your feelings for his well being. You did what was best for him, not you. I don’t know what else could make you a better mother. This will be a huge adjustment, but I know you’ll be able to do it,” Mary Margaret says, full of hope. Speeches like this are her speciality.

“Thank you. Seeing him, god it brought up all the fears I had when I was pregnant with him,” she whispers.

“I have no doubt it did. Emma, he needs someone in his corner and right now it’s you. We will be there with you every step of the way,” Mary Margaret tells her.

“Thank you,” Emma mumbles.

“Of course, that’s what family is for,” Mary Margaret tells her. Soon after Mary Margaret is called back to set and has to go. They exchange goodbyes and hang up. Emma lies back in bed, thinking over what Mary Margaret said to her.

Emma waits for Henry on the porch of the foster home after school the next day. David was dealing with some legalities for her so she could spend time with Henry.

When Henry spots her he runs up the porch and crashes into her with a hug. She releases a grunt at the impact.

“Hey there, kid. How was school?” she asks him as he pulls back.

“Pretty much the same, nothing great,” he shrugs, before plopping into the porch swing. She joins him, the swing swaying softly.

“What about your friends?” she asks, curious. Henry’s smile fades and his head drops.

“I don’t have a lot of those,” he mumbles. Emma bumps her shoulder with his.

“I never did either. I just didn’t quite fit in anywhere I went,” she tells him.

“They think I’m weird, I think it’s cause I’m adopted,” he tells her, a certain understanding in his eyes.

“Kids aren’t always nice about things like that,” she shrugs, “I know we didn’t get to finish our talk yesterday, did you have any questions for me?” Emma asks her green eyes searching his brown ones.

“Do you really want me to live with you?” he asks her.

“Yeah I really do,” she nods.

“Then why did you give me up for adoption in the first place?” he asks and it definitely takes her by surprise. She sucks in a deep breath before answering. She knew this would come up at one point, she just didn’t think it would come up now.

“When I was pregnant with you I was beyond broke and hadn’t starred in a single movie. I was about to stop trying to be an actor. As much as I wanted to keep you I knew that I couldn’t give you everything you deserved in this world, but I found your parents and they could do that for you. I didn’t want to do it, but it was what was best for you,” she says, honestly.

“It’s not because you didn’t love me?” Henry asks her.

“Oh no, Henry not at all. I love you so much and I knew I couldn’t care for you like you needed,” she says bringing him into her arms. Henry stayed there for a long time and cried.

[make-a-wish-band-imagines]

Never Goodbye!

My take on a Tony Stark x Reader fic for @barnesrogersvstheworld shot through the heart challenge. 

The Prompt was “Will you just give me a hug and a kiss and say goodbye to me?” “No, not goodbye!” and I imagined it as a fluffy little piece but my imagination had other things in mind while I wrote it...

Trigger warnings: pragnancy, panic attack and a near character death

(I entered the challenge under my main blogs name and just posted it from my ff-blog)

 You pull your jacket around yourself to wrap you up as warmly as you humanly can. Standing outside on top of a mile high tower in the middle of the night, in New York in freezing Winter Weather was definitely not a good Idea. But unfortunately evil masterminds and Alien-Bastards are not very considerate when it comes to your love of sleep and your distaste for everything cold. Still not even the coldest of Blizzards or any Storm made by Stormella herself could have not stopped you from standing right here on the platform of the Stark Tower.

 You turn around as you hear the oh so familiar noises of the floor opening up and Tony walking out of the tower into his suit. You bite your lower lip as he walks into your direction, assembling the suit on himself. You could not lie and say you were not a huge fan of the suit, in fact you loved and it made you feel very much exited but yet very afraid at the same time. You knew how reckless and selfless Tony was and you loved him for it but whenever he put on the suit and went off to save the world you just could not help but feel like one of his Iron Gloves is clenching around your heart making it ache for the lightness you feel whenever you were with Tony.

 He stopped before you, dressed in the suit, the visor still being open. He lifts his hand to cup your cheek and you know that you should feel colder, that the normal reaction to being touched with Iron in freezing 23 degree weather would be to shrink away from it but all you feel is warmth spreading through your body. Tony pulls your lip out from under your teeth and gives you one of his sweet and gentle small smiles he has reserved just for you. You step a little closer to him, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him tight. He kisses the crown of your head and after squeezing you tightly lets go.

 “Get inside Princess you’ll freeze out here” you just shrug and look deep into his eyes. You know he has to go, you know the world needs him and that he needs this to prove to himself, that he is the amazing man you knew him to be. But still you could not help the sudden tightness in your chest, the need to protect this precious man in front of you, the wish to lock the two of you away and throw out the key.

 Still you throw him a little smile and straighten your back

“Goodbye Mr. Stark!” You say with a twinkle in your eyes, the sendoff a cute little inside joke between the two of you. The last remaining piece of that time when you were still his assistant, when you had just met him and desperately tried to keep your cool around him, not showing how much you had fallen in love with him.

 With a little peek on you lips and a wink the visor shuts close and he flies off into the night, leaving you on top of the tower staring into the sky until you cannot tell if the glowing is his suit or just another star.

 Once back inside you walk into the kitchen to get a cup of tea and sit down on the large sofa, cuddling yourself into your favorite corner, hypnotized by the cracking of the flames you are staring into, your thoughts drifting to the man that took your heart away with him.

 You could not recall when you fell asleep or if you even did. All you remember now is Steve looking at you pity in his eyes.

“Doll, you need to come with me” you recognize the seriousness in his tone, remembering how you always taunted him with his “Captain America Voice” never being able to imagine, that your playful, silly, funny best friend would ever use it to address you.

“What happened” you choke out between ragged breaths, trying to silence the voice in your head that screams your worst fear over and over again

“Its Tony doll, he…” you cannot let him finish this sentence; you cannot bear to hear it out loud. Instead you turn around and run. You do not stop until you arrive down in the Med-Bay, frantically yelling his name, needing to see him with your own eyes. You feel the panic raise in your body, the way you lungs are clenching, the way your heart aches, the way your vision blurs with unshed tears. Finally you see him. He is in a room on a cold table; you can see the blood, so much blood.

 God you wish the screaming would stop. Why is anybody screaming? If anybody had a reason to scream it is you. You claw at the arms that are wrapped around your torso, pulling you away from the window in front of the OR. You kick and scratch, trying to get loose, trying to get into that room but you do not stand a chance against your super-soldier best friend. You feel yourself being put down on one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs, Steve’s strong hands on your shoulders refusing to let you get up.

 “Doll, you need to stop screaming!” It takes you a while to process what he was saying. You were not screaming right? You suddenly feel your mind being pulled back into reality. Your throat sore from screaming, your muscles hurting from trying to fight Steve, your knuckles bleeding from banging on windows and doors your eyes burning from crying. You can feel your muscles going slack and Steve’s hands gliding down your arms, taking your hand in his. As your vision clears you can see him kneeling before you, worry etched onto his face.

 “No” is all you can get out before you collapse into your best friends arms. You do not know how many time passes where you are crouched onto Steve’s lap, crying into his suit. You can not tell when he lifted you up and sat both of you down into the same chair he put you in earlier. All you can tell is that this is where you wake up when you feel a hand shaking your shoulder.

 Sitting up straight you look into Dr. Cho’s face

 “Is he going to be okay?” You silently plead her to say yes, knowing that you could not handle any different answer. She looks at you sympathetically as she takes a seat next to you.

 “I am not going to lie. It was very touch and go for a while and I honestly thought that we would loose Mr. Stark but he made it out of surgery. I know that this is not the answer that you wanted or hoped for but it is a good start and we need to hope for the best okay?! Right now we will have to make sure that he makes it through the night and I am sure things will look better tomorrow.” You try to hold back the tears, trying to be strong but still your voice is shaky as you ask her if you can see him. She takes you to his room and you have a fresh wave of tears cascading down your face as you look at him all pale and shaken up like that. It s hard for you to see him like that. Tony was your rock. Your safe harbor, the one who was always strong for you, always watching out for you, caring for you, making you feel safe. You slowly take step after step as you inch closer to the hospital bed, perching yourself on the mattress, your finger following the oh so familiar line of his jaw line before you wrap your arms around him and lay your head on his chest, not knowing how there could still be tears coming out of your tired eyes, sure that you should be all cried out by now.

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

 “Doll come on. You need to get out of here. Go take a shower, sleep in areal bed for once and have something to eat. Rhodey and I will stay with him. You have not left this room in a week. This is not healthy! Tony would want you to take care of yourself” you shoot Steve an angry glare. How dare he, how dare he tell you what Tony wanted? He could not have known.

 “Get out!” You turn yourself around so you don’t have to look at your best friend anymore. You can hear him stepping closer to you and the rational part of your brain knows that he is trying to help. That he is trying to look out for you but the emotional part can’t accept that, it can’t accept this kind of care from anyone but Tony right now.

 “I said get the fuck out Rogers!” You yell in frustration and take the nearest thing to you, a glass of water, and throw it against the wall, letting all the anger and frustration out. But as quickly as your rage build it leaves your body again leaving you an empty tired shell. You crouch yourself down, your back hitting the wall and let your head fall on your knees, your arms trying to hold you together as you feel like you are loosing yourself. You can hear Steve sight before he sits down next to you and pulls you into his arms, lending you a shoulder to cry on as he has done countless time in the week since Tony’s failed mission.

 “I know doll. I know. But you know as well as I do that he would not want you to waste away here. He would want you to take care of yourself. And he would kick our ass if we let you stay in this room the entire time..” You let out a sarcastic laugh

 “What Tony would have wanted was to come back from this mission without nearly dying. He would have wanted to come home, have a drink and lock himself away in his lab. He would have wanted to go to that science fair thing from Peter and he would have wanted to drag me along and he would have wanted to dissect everything into the smallest details although he knew that I do not understand a single word but that I am listening as if he was preaching the secret to eternal life just because I love seeing him so happy and carefree. He would have wanted to take me and Peter out for Dinner afterwards and although he would never say it he would be bursting of pride for that boy. He would have wanted to throw that stupid Pre-Christmas Party and he would have wanted to fly to Paris with me for Christmas like we planned and he would have wanted to spent New Years with me in the Alps. And he definitely would have wanted a Girlfriend that cared more than to see him off with “Goodbye Mr. Stark”. There is so much I could have said. So much I wanted to say. So much I needed to say but thought I had a lifetime to tell him. So I went with “Goodbye Mr. Stark” like it was some cheeky, flirty funny way of seeing him off but now if he dies the last thing I ever said to him was “Goodbye Mr. Stark” not “I love you” not “be careful” not “hey you are going to be a daddy” no it was fucking “Goodbye Mr. Stark!”

 You are crying hysterically at this point not realizing that Steve is looking at you with a small little smile on his face.

 “You are pregnant?” You only now realized what you have just said and you nod your head a mirroring smile on your face.

 “I have not told him yet. I wanted to do that when he got back. Had it all planned out in my head, was gonna do it in Paris on Christmas Eve. I already bought the Tiffany’s Teddy Bear and wrote for our little Princess on the Gift-Tag. Why did I wait Steve?”

 Before Steve could give you some encouraging words that it was not our fault and that there was no way that you could have known you hear a sore voice

 “That sounds beautiful” your breath stocks and you start to shiver. You can’t believe it. You jump out of Steve’s arms and run up to the bed making sure you have not imagined it.

 “Oh my God, Tony” you whisper before you collapse into his arms.

 “Hey baby girl. Sorry I missed Breakfast” he lifts his left hand and stokes your hair, pressing small kisses to the crown of your head. With a chuckle you lift your head from his chest and look into his eyes

 “I love you so much. Don’t ever leave me!” God how much you missed kissing him. The kiss starts out slowly and full of meaning but you can not hide how much you missed him, missed tasting him, missed touching him and you do not know how far you would have taken this if it was not for Dr. Cho coming in with Steve , Rhodey and Peter in tow.

 Rhodey and Peter rush to Tony’s side, checking in on him and telling him how happy they are that he is awake. As Peter starts to excitedly chat about everything that Toy has missed and how amazing his science fair was Rhodey pulls him out of the room promising to bring you back your favorite drink from Starbucks.

 Dr. Cho gives Tony the once over and announces that he seems to be making good progress and that she expects him to make a full recovery. Once she has left the room Tony pulls you down onto the bed with him, pulling into his side, afraid of letting you go. His hand wanders onto your stomach, slowly drawing circles onto your skin.

 “Is it real?” He whispers and you lean your head up to give him a sweet kiss on the lips.

 “Yes!” You both look at each other soft smiles grazing your faces before another lingering kiss is pressed to your lips.

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

 Once again you find yourself on top of Stark Tower. A light breeze flowing around your body, hands gently laid on your swollen body. You take a deep breath, inhaling the clean summer air. Closing your eyes, taking in the smell of the city you learned to call home. You open your eyes and turn around as you hear the familiar sounds of Tony stepping onto the Platform, the suit assembling itself around his body. You feel the tears in your eyes. This is the first time Tony will leave for a mission since he made a full recovery and you can not help but panic.

 He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, your head resting on his chest, one of his hands resting on your belly, the other stroking your hair.

 “Do you have to leave?” You whisper already knowing the answer but hoping that maybe he will change his mind.

 “You know that I have to baby girl!” You nod your head as you try to stay strong. Try to keep it together but the worry is clearly showing in the way you cling to him, scared of letting him go. You stay like that for a little while, wrapped up in each others arms. But eventually Tony wrapped himself out of your arms and kisses you longingly.

 “I gotta go baby girl” You whimper and cling to him, the memory of the day he nearly dies still to fresh in your memory.

 “Hey” he lifts your head p, pulling on your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes “I am going to be okay!” You shake your head

 “But what if you are not? What if the baby decides to come early? What if you are not here when our daughter is born?” He presses a light kiss to the tip of your nose, not trying to fight the little smiles that always appears when someone is talking about your baby

 “I promise I will be here when she is born. I promise I’ll be home safe, okay? Now will you just give me a hug anda kiss and say goodbye to me?” You know that he is using his humor as a shield, that he is trying to make the departure easier for the both of you but you can not help the panic rising in your chest as the memory of how much you regretted not telling him so many things when he nearly died

 “No. Not Goodbye, never Goodbye. I will say that I love you and that I want you to be careful and to take care and to come back to me and our little girl but I will never say goodbye to you ever again.”

 And with one last kiss, so deep that it lets you standing there, wanting more he is flying out into the nightly sky.

[perfectlyrose]

Up In Flames (8/10)

Summary: In the year since they decided to become a team, John Smith and Rose Tyler have made quite the names for themselves as Team TARDIS, bank robbers extraordinaire. Newspapers the world over run headlines about The Doctor and the Bad Wolf and their latest heists. They’re practically unstoppable.

Then their world spins to a halt with a phone call. Jack’s in trouble again and a formidable enemy from John’s past has emerged from the shadows to try and destroy the bank robbing couple once and for all. Will they be able to survive this new threat intact or will the life they’ve been building together go up in flames?

A sequel to Watch it Burn, a Nine/Rose bank robbers AU

Note: a chapter a day after the last one? you’re not imagining things! one more to go after this (and possibly an epilogue, we’ll see)

Word Count: 3103

Rating: Teen

Read here: tumblr // ao3 // tsp // ff

“You got in my way with that first bank heist of yours,” the Master said. “I don’t like people getting in my way.”

Rose stole a glance at John, wondering if this was really about the Agency job or it was about him.

“It was a bonus to find out one of the people I was searching for was my old friend Theta,” the Master continued. He looked at Rose. “We used to be partners, you know.”

She didn’t respond, already knowing this bit of information.

“Ah, so he told you that much, did he?” He shifted his focus to John who was glaring daggers at him, jaw clenched. “Did you tell her what we did, Theta? Or did you try to hide your multitude of sins?”

Rose saw a flash of pain cross John’s face and knew the Master saw it too.

“You tried to hide it!” The Master laughed. “Oh, that’s rich. Didn’t want her to leave when she found out who you really are?”

The Master turned his gaze back to Rose. “Let me tell you for him. You might regret rushing in here to save him when you find out what he really is.”

“Was,” John interjected, voice rough. “It’s who I was.”

The Master waved his free hand at John dismissively, gun not wavering from where it was trained on Rose. “Makes no difference.”

“I don’t care about his past,” Rose insisted.

“Oh, but you should,” the Master said. His voice was sickly sweet and Rose wanted to recoil from it. “

“We were killers, little wolf. Assassins. Technically working for the government but they would have disavowed us if asked.”

Rose worked to keep her face blank but it felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. She hadn’t ever considered this possibility in the millions of half-formed ideas about John’s past that she’d dreamed up.

His reasons for trying so hard to bury that part of his life made perfect sense now. She wanted to hug John. She wanted to tear the Master’s throat out with her teeth for dredging all this up when John wasn’t ready to share.

Rose couldn’t do either of those so she settled for glaring at the man who was trying to hurt the man she loved. He would pay for it as soon as she could manage.

He laughed. “Whoever decided you were a wolf has obviously seen that look on your face. Fangs are no good here, not when I have about six guns trained on you.”

Rose didn’t have an answer for that so she pressed her lips together and kept her mouth shut. She didn’t dare look over at John, knowing she wouldn’t be able to keep the concern from her expression.

“Not only were we assassins, we were some of the best,” the Master continued. “We were trained to be the best and we were successful. A trusted team tasked with the hardest kills. Do you want to know how many missions we ran?”

“I don’t care,” Rose said.

“You do,” the Master said. “I can read it all over your face.”

“John isn’t a killer anymore and that’s all that matters to me,” she said.

“Ah, but you didn’t know he was a killer before. That changes things,” he insisted. “You’ll just have to mull it over. Won’t she, Theta?” He looked over at John. “I’m sure she’ll have plenty of time to think over the fact that she’s been fucking a killer for the past year while I figure out what to do with the pair of you. I wonder how long it will take before she decides she wants nothing to do with you.”

“Fuck off,” John said, anger bubbling under the two brusque syllables.

“Or maybe I’ll just kill her so there’s one less person to deal with around here.”

John growled.

“But not yet of course. We haven’t even started to delve into her secrets,” the Master said.

A wave of unease rolled over Rose.

“Don’t you want to know all about Miss Rose Marion Tyler’s past?”

Rose shivered at the sound of her name on his tongue, unnerved by the way he said it, by the fact that he knew it.

“Yes, I do know your name, little flower,” he said, correctly reading the shock on her face. “I know more than that, even.”

“You don’t know anything about me.” Rose heard the uncertainty in her own voice and she hated that it was entirely real.

“Oh, but I do,” the Master said, smile growing. “I bet you haven’t told your precious John here where you come from.”

“He knows enough,” Rose said, head spinning as she tried to figure out what he could know.

“Does he know that you’re nothing more than a chav off the estates who dropped out of school? That you dropped out to run away with a boy?”

Rose’s blood thrummed through her, waiting to see if he knew anything of the rest of her story.

“Ran away to play the whore for a year only to come home and watch her mother die,” he continued. “That’s who you’ve aligned yourself with, Theta. Quite the step down. Your little flower is nothing more than a common thief with a common, sordid past and it’s time you see that.”

Rose knew that her past wouldn’t matter to John, especially not these tiny tidbits that the Master had dug up. It didn’t stop the fear from rising as she wondered if he’d found anything else and if he’d disclose it before she could tell it to John herself.

She let her head drop, gathering herself for her next move and listening to the sudden chatter over her earbud as Amy moved forward with her side of the plan.

“Don’t you see it?” The Master urged. “She’s nothing and she knows it.”

“She’s a million times better than you,” John shot back.

“You’re deluded,” the Master said.

Rose was done letting the Master think he was able to trod all over her and John. It was time to change the game.

She swallowed her fear and let it sing through her veins, let it make her more dangerous in her awareness and acceptance of it. Then she raised her head and looked the Master dead in the eye, letting every mask drop.

Rose snarled, showing her teeth in what was was a clear threat, every inch the wolf she had named herself.

The Master looked a bit taken aback at her sudden shift.

John shivered as he watched Rose turn cold for the second time since he’d known her. It was just as disconcerting and terrifying when aimed at someone else as it had been when she’d turned that icy gaze on him.

“You think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?” Rose taunted, stepping closer to the Master, completely ignoring the gun he had trained on her and the way his bodyguards all stepped closer. “You did a bit of research and discovered bits of my sob story but you don’t understand a single goddamn thing.”

“I think you’ll find that I do,” he argued, trying to regain control of the situation as Rose began to wrest it away.

“For someone who thinks so much, you’re wrong a lot,” she shot back. “But honestly, you really don’t understand. You bring up my past, hoping that reminding me of it will cripple me, hoping to remind me that I’m just some chav off the estate that needs to remember what her place is. But there’s something you didn’t count on because you don’t understand me at all.”

“Please, little flower, enlighten us all,” he sneered.

“I know I’m a chav off the estate. I’m not ashamed of my past and I haven’t tried to forget it,” she said, voice frightening in its evenness. “My past doesn’t cripple me, it just makes me stronger because I made it through more than your research will ever let on.”

The Master rolled his eyes but John could tell he was off balance now that Rose was no longer playing the trembling thief he’d expected her to be.

“You keep calling me a little flower like that’s meant to demean me as well,” she continued, not letting him get a word in. “Well, I’ve been a flower my whole life, long before I named myself a wolf. You’d do well to remember exactly what kind of flower I am.”

“That's what you're building up to?” the Master said, voice dripping in condescension. “A threat that roses have thorns? You're exactly what I expected. A pretty little thing with no brains. Don't know what Theta sees in you.”

Rose smiled and it almost sent shivers down the Master’s spine. For a fraction of a second, he considered that maybe this girl had potential, that she wasn’t the weak link in the partnership. He almost recognized the familiar spark of ruthless genius that burned bright and cold behind her eyes.

Almost.

“That’s because you’ve always been remarkably shortsighted for someone who calls himself a genius. Yes, roses have thorns.” She took another step forward, not taking her eyes of the Master, continuing to disregard the gun pointed at her chest. “They’re also the flower of love.”

The Master sneered. “So?”

“You’ve never understood love and therefore you’ll never understand me,” Rose continued. “That gives me the advantage.”

“No, it just makes you weak.”

Rose’s expression hardened further. “No, it makes me stronger,” she said. “You hurt the people I love and I will not stand for it.”

“All your monologuing about the ‘power of love’ and all this flower mumbo jumbo won’t do you any good,” The Master said. He motioned for John to be brought to him.

The guards pulled him to his feet and shoved him forward. John pushed back against the hand on his shoulder with a growl. That earned him a hard push, sending him to his knees once again, this time next to the Master.

John heard the metallic click of a gun being readied to fire right behind him.

“I have both of you where I want you. The mighty Doctor and his little pet wolf at gunpoint and finally at my mercy.”

“Like you ever had any of that,” John spat.

The Master motioned to the guard and they decked John in the jaw. John’s eyes strayed back to Rose as the blow reverberated through his head, barely catching her flinch.

The Master’s smile was cold as he turned his gaze to his old partner. “You’re right.”

John snarled at him, blood staining his teeth red.

“Anyways, I have you, I have Rose here, and Jack is down in a very disagreeable cell in my basement. I believe that’s the entirety of your little gang of miscreants. No one left to rescue you.” The Master looked positively gleeful. “I win.”

John watched as Rose tilted her head to her side like she could hear something he couldn’t. A smile spread across her face and something akin to hope began to bloom in his chest. Of course she still had a plan, she always did.

He should have known from the start that the only way she would’ve gotten caught was by design. His lips twitched up in a smile to match hers, ready to see exactly what Rose had up her sleeve.

“Are you sure about that?” Rose asked.

The Master faltered for a fraction of a second. “Of course I am.”

“Because I’m thinking that lack of understanding about things like love and friendship are about to bite you in the arse,” she said. Her eyes were hard, unforgiving. Ruthless.

“What the hell are you talking about? You’re the ones captured at gunpoint.”

“I think she’s talking about us,” Amy said, as she put a gun to the back of the Master’s head. She cocked it, the sound echoing in the suddenly silent room.

A motley crew of criminals had the Master’s bodyguards at their mercy. John recognized most of them but not all. They’d snuck in while everyone’s attention was on Rose and the Master’s conversation and surrounded them.

There was a brief scuffle as the guards fought back but Rose’s crew quickly subdued and disarmed them. A blonde with cargo pants and her hair in a high ponytail made quick work of John’s restraints and helped him to his feet.

John didn’t take his eyes off Rose who was staring down the Master. His old enemy still had his gun pointed at her, uncaring that Amy was ready to blow his brains out at any move she didn’t like.

Rose stepped closer, almost coming into contact with the barrel of the Master’s gun. “I win,” she whispered. Before he could make another move, her fist came up and made hard contact with his face.

He staggered backwards. Amy swung her gun and cracked it against the side of the man’s head. He went down in an ungraceful heap.

John lurched forward just as Rose turned to face him. His breath caught at the anger blazing in her eyes, but it was fire now instead of a cold burn and so he kept moving towards her until he had her wrapped up in his arms.

Her grip on him was tight and he winced at the pressure on what were sure to be some colorful mementos of his stay in the Master’s stronghold.

“Are you okay?” Rose asked.

“Little banged up but nothing major,” he said, mouth right next to her ear as he continued to cling to her. “You saved me, Rose.”

She pulled back and thumped a hand against his chest. “I’m so angry with you. You ran off without me and I was so worried!”

“I’m sorry, Rose,” John said. “I was stupid.”

“You were,” she agreed.

“I wanted to keep you safe.”

She shook her head. “You should know by now that I don’t need taking care of.”

He cupped her cheek with one hand, still marvelling that she was here and safe and hopefully not done with him. “I know.”

She leaned forward and rested her forehead against his chest, making his hand drop from her face. “I’m going to yell at you later. A lot.”

John squeezed her tighter. “Okay.”

“Well, aren’t you two a sight for sore eyes.”

John and Rose pulled apart with matching expressions of happiness at the sound of Jack’s voice.

“Jack!” Rose cried.

She ran towards him and skidded to a stop a few feet away, taking in his appearance. He was leaning on her friend Donna. Numerous bruises and cuts were visible but his smile was as bright and irreverent as always. He’d definitely taken a beating but the Master hadn’t broken him.

“Hey Rosie, hell of a rescue you engineered. Thought I told you not to worry about me.”

“You had to know we wouldn’t just leave you here!”

“I’m glad you’re here,” Jack said. “Hospitality in this place was terrible.”

John walked up behind Rose and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Good to see you, Jack.”

“Likewise.”

“You done playing damsel in distress for a bit?”

Jack grinned. “I’ll always be a damsel in distress for the two of you. Next time I’ll try to dress the part, though.”

Rose groaned and Donna laughed.

“Is he always like this?” she asked.

“Yes,” Rose and John answered in unison.

“You and I are going to get a drink when you’re better,” Donna told Jack.

Jack winked at her. “You got it, sweetheart.”

“Hey Rose, what do you want us to do with this lot?” Amy called.

Rose turned and saw that everyone had been tied up. The blonde with the ponytail had her gun trained on the still unconscious Master. “Jenny? You know anyone who would want them?”

Her smile was a sharp thing. “I can think of a couple intelligence agencies off the top of my head.”

“No one even slightly connected to the Agency or the Lungbarrow Project,” John cut in. “He has ties to both of those and they would try to use him instead of punishing him.”

“Noted,” Jenny said with a nod. “Clara says hello, by the way. She wanted to come but she would’ve shot somebody so I convinced her to stay sidelined as support. She’ll get the right people here, though.”

John’s mouth quirked up into a smile. “You’re the soldier girlfriend, then?”

“That’s me.”

He nodded. “Pick the organization you want to turn them over to and then have Clara get them here.”

“How do you feel about UNIT?” Jenny asked.

“Good rep for trying to do the right thing,” John said. “Good choice.”

“Clara said you owe her a few recipes for her help,” Jenny said after a moment. Clara was obviously talking to her through an earbud.

“I’ll make sure to get them to her,” he promised.

He turned back to Rose. “Do we need to do anything else here besides clear out?”

“We’ve got what we came for,” Rose said. “You’re safe. Jack’s safe and Amy already volunteered to take him home so Rory can tend to his injuries. The Master has been taken down. That’s everything on my checklist besides yelling at you but we’re doing that later.”

John smiled, still just marvelling that she wanted anything to do with him. “Let’s go home, then.”

Rose pulled out a couple of their calling cards from her pocket. “Want to leave these?”

He shook his head. “Let’s save them for the banks. Besides, I didn’t do a great job on working as a team this go round.”

Rose arched an eyebrow. “Glad you’re admitting it. Thought I was going to have to remind you the meaning of TARDIS.”

“Duly remembered. I won’t be forgetting it again.”

Amy reached over Rose’s shoulder and plucked one of the cards out of Rose’s hand. “I have so many questions for the two of you but for now I want one of these as a keepsake.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “You could’ve just asked.”

“Takes the fun out of it.” Amy plucked the comms device out of her ear and handed it to Rose. “If I was still in the game, I’d be commissioning some of these.”

Rose hugged Amy quickly. “Thanks so much for your help, Ames.”

“Anytime.”

Rose thanked everyone else for their help, made sure they had everything under control, and gave Jack a lingering hug before slipping her hand into John’s. They walked out the front door of the Master’s stronghold hand in hand and disappeared into the inky darkness.

[winterbaby89]

A Lesson In Muscle Memory

The Captain Swan Storybook 2017 (4 X 22/23 Operation Mongoose)

Amazing artwork by: @elaine--captain--swan (I am still absolutely blown away by your beautiful artwork)

Beta’d by the lovely @ilovemesomekillianjones, @hollyethecurious, and @kmomof4 thank you for the extra sets of eyes ladies.

A smutty deleted scene after they’re brought back from the alternate storybook leading up to just before the party at Granny’s. 

Rated M

A/N : I am bringing this back around for my shameless birthday week self reblogs. This was a fun one to write, when I wasn’t pulling out my hair trying to get my muse to cooperate, and is probably the closest I’ve gotten to PWP...

Can also be found on AO3 and FF

Emma rushes through the door to the loft with a frantic buzz under her skin. She skips all pleasantries with her parents, blurting out, “Where is he? Where’s Hook?”

“Uh. H-he was there… right before we got dragged away.” David partially pulls free of his embrace with Snow, to point in the direction of where he saw Hook last. Emma takes a few steps in that direction, staring in alarm at the unoccupied space.

“Everyone reappeared where they were before this whole mess started.” Emma’s face falls as the feelings of despair that tried to overtake her while watching Killian die in that perverted version of the storybook swell up in her chest again, threatening to overwhelm her, she croaks out a soft but emotional, “No.”

When she hears him speak, Emma whips her head around to look up at where he is perched against the banister in her room.

“Yeah, sorry about the mess. I really needed to find that book, and I’m usually a bit tidier.”

“Killian,” Emma veritably sighs his name in relief, before turning to run up the stairs. A relieved smile forms on her lips, she needs to feel him, hug him. In her exuberance she manages to tackle him so hard he falls backwards onto her bed.

“Oof! Oh.” Taking a moment to regain his senses from the blow, Killian looks up into the beamingly happy face of Emma, as she continues to lay astride him. “How many times do I have to tell you, love? I'm a survivor,” he teases, before sobering a bit as he continues. “Look, I didn't mean to cause any panic. I awoke moments before your parents and came up here, looking for your boy.” His concern for Henry warms her in unexpected ways.

“He's fine. Henry's fine. I'm just... glad you are, too.”

“What is it?” Killian asks as he watches emotion after emotion cross her face, but no words form on her lips.

Emma pulls back, so she doesn’t smother him and helps Killian to join her in sitting up, still wanting him as close as possible. As she contemplates her answer she hears the loft door close, signifying her parent’s exit. Well, I guess mom and dad decided we need privacy. I’ll catch up with them later.

“When I... watched you die... I was afraid I was never gonna get a chance to tell you something.”

“Tell me what?”

“That I…” Emma can see the hope in his eyes, as she begins to speak, and it scares the hell out of her.  She tries, but the right words won’t come. “Want to thank you for sacrificing yourself. Henry and I wouldn't have succeeded without you.”

As she continues with her thank you, Emma sees the split second where his hope shatters, and just like that his mask is back in place, with a warm smile he responds, “Of course, love. It's all in a day's work for a hero.”

Emma leans forward and touches her forehead to his before capturing his lips in a sweet kiss. Emma makes up her mind then, she knows what she needs to do to reassure herself that he is alive and well, and to erase the image of his face falling at her pathetic thank you. Emma hates herself for continuing to choke on the words he deserves to hear, that she deserves to let herself to say. If I can’t tell him, I will show him.

Their kiss grows more intense and passionate, as they both grow needy and desperate.

Emma poofs off all of their clothes, not caring where they land, and Killian starts to make a quip about exploring all aspects of her magic when she sinks down onto his already hardened member, causing all the words to die on his lips. Their lost words are replaced with a chorus of pleasurable groans.

Needing to feel his lips on hers, Emma urgently kisses him as she begins to thrust her hips, roughly, impaling herself, over and over again. This is not their typical passionate and tender lovemaking, which she can now admit to herself is exactly what they’ve been doing all along. This, this is not lovemaking, this is an adrenaline fueled, frenzied fuck, needing the physical reassurance that they are there together.

With the breakneck pace Emma is setting, she feels her orgasm overtake her with the power of a freight train. Her head falls towards Killian’s shoulder as he continues to pump into her, chasing his release. Emma keens in his arms when the warmth of his seed swells and pulses against her sensitive walls.

“I hope I’ve not worn you out, love. I am nowhere near finished with you yet,” he growls into her ear, stroking her golden hair as she lays exhausted in his arms. He jumps a little when he feels her playfully bite into the flesh above his collarbone.

“I can handle it,” she purrs against his skin. Before she can register another thought, Emma finds herself facing the wall, pinned there with Killian behind her.

“Glad to hear it, Swan.” He presses his body against hers, and runs his hand from her belly up to her gloriously pert breasts he so loves to fondle. Caressing her breasts, and tweaking one erect nipple then the other, his hand continues on its trajectory until it is wrapped gently around her throat.

He slides his hook between her legs, finding her clit with an accuracy that still manages to surprise her, unlike some guys who couldn’t seem to figure out what a clit even was. As he applies consistent pressure moving his hook in circles, his lips cut a swath of open mouthed kisses from that spot just behind her ear down to her shoulder, and back again. Every time he makes it to her ear he takes a moment to whisper filthy, sweet little nothings to her. Killian is unrelenting in his pursuit of her pleasure, not letting up on his assault of her senses until she has fallen off the proverbial cliff into another orgasm.

With his “mast” returned to full attention, Killian slowly starts to turn Emma in his arms, mindful of her wobbly legs as she recovers. “I do believe I owe you a lesson in... muscle memory, love.” Hoisting her up into his arms, her legs wrap around his waist, and he backs her against the wall for support.

“Is that so… Captain?”

“Aye.” Without further ceremony Killian thrusts into her snug, welcoming heat, still slick from her release, drawing another round of euphoric moans from the both of them. As he finds his rhythm, Emma wends her right arm behind his neck, places her left hand along his jaw, and pulls him in to meet her in a slightly less frenzied, but no less passionate kiss.

Killian being the perceptive man he is, knows exactly what Emma is trying to accomplish with this tryst, and he is unwilling to let her doubt their love. He knows she feels this too, even if she still seems to be unwilling, or unable to say the words; a fact that confirms it would be unwise to speak his own to her in that moment. Instead, he will reassure her of his love physically, until she is ready, emotionally.

Killian feels Emma’s next climax cresting as she claws his back, squeezing harder for traction while she blissfully falls apart. Killian guides her pleasure, but staves off his own release, not yet ready to end this coupling. With Emma gripped in his arms, coming down from the high of her release, Killian walks them to her bed; his still engorged cock slides from her when he gently lays her down on the edge. Dropping to his knees, he sets his mouth to her drenched core.

He is voracious, as though he is a man dying of thirst, and she is the nectar of life. He kisses these lips as passionately as he does her mouth, tongue roaming and exploring every inch of her, from slit to clit. The sounds Emma is making tell him she isn’t too far from reaching her peak once again, so he doesn’t let up until he hears her calling out his name in ecstasy.

Coaxing her through her high, he doesn’t let up. As her breathing starts leveling out, he plunges two fingers into her still quivering channel. Steadily he works her back to the edge, fingers pumping into her as he sucks her clit into his mouth and laves it with his tongue. Emma’s hand snakes its way into his hair, anchoring him to her.

“Killian… Killian, oh… just… just like that, gods don’t stop. Please…” Emma trails off as her fifth release hits her. She can only fall and enjoy the ride he is taking her on.

After bringing her back down, Killian finally stands wiping her juices from his face with his hand. “I need you, love, can you take any more?”

Emma, still in her blissed out state, is unable to do more than nod her head, as she reaches for him. Killian pulls himself onto the bed above her, and effortlessly slides into her trembling heat. He sets a leisurely pace, kissing her sensuously, intent on making love to this amazing woman.

Despite his best intentions to draw out their lovemaking, Killian can feel his climax closing in, and the tell-tale fluttering of Emma’s walls tells him she is right there with him. No longer able to hold off his release he beseeches Emma with a whispered, “Come with me Swan, let me feel you come undone around me again.”

Killian instantly feels Emma’s walls contract around him, dragging him into the sweet bliss of orgasm, as she calls out his name on a breathy moan. Recovering from the effects of their enjoyable activities first Killian rolls off of Emma, and pulls her with him to lie back on the pillows, pulling the quilt over them both as Emma snuggles into his chest.

Emma is unsure how long they have been asleep when she finally stirs from her unintentional nap. She stretches, feeling sore in all the right places after Killian put her through her paces. Secretly she loves the feeling of waking up in his arms, it makes her feel loved and wanted. She is still mad at herself for not being able to get the words out. Definitely wouldn’t say no to another satisfying session like today though, just maybe not today, the ache has already begun to settle in.

Wanting to use this quiet moment, to test how the words will actually feel, Emma whispers into the room, “I love you, Killian.” Realizing a half second after the words are out of her mouth that he isn’t actually asleep, she hears his breath catch in his chest, and feels the heart under her ear speed to a frenzied staccato. Steeling her nerves, Emma turns her head to look him in the face, and see how he’s going to react to her confession. The look on his face can only be described as cautiously hopeful.

“Truly Emma? Do you mean it?”

Finding her words have failed her once again, Emma just nods her head. Killian pulls her closer, dropping a sweet kiss to her forehead.

“And I love you, Emma.”

At that moment Emma’s cellphone chimes from its place on the floor, needing a moment to process what has just happened, she rolls over reaching for it. Looking at the phone she sees a message from her mother.

“It’s from mom, apparently the author is behind bars, and there’s a party at Granny’s. We should probably join them. What do you think?”

Killian can sense Emma’s need to not call attention to what they’ve just shared, so he agrees, “Aye, sounds like a plan, love. I need to have a chat with your father about his bad form. You never stab a man in the back.”

~FIN~

This story can also be found on pg 269 in the 2017 Captain Swan Storybook.

Tagging a few lovelies:

@csstorybook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @flslp87 @elaine--captain--swan @kmomof4 @hollyethecurious @ilovemesomekillianjones @xhookswenchx @seriouslyhooked @laschatzi

[swanandapirate]

Tuesday (1/1)

It’s my blog’s second birthday today, yay! To honor that and because it’s Tuesday today, I decided to finally post this fic I have been working on for actual months. This fic is dedicated to @captainwiley because she let me use her parents’ epic romance to turn it into a fic prompt (she’s the rl Henry of this fic and just an amazing human being and beta-reader ♥ ) Also major thanks to @artandteaandstuff because she corrected and flailed too ♥

summary: Every Tuesday, she’s there, working late with her son and every Tuesday so is he. He offers to keep Henry busy so she can finish her tasks, but neither of them would have expected that Henry would grow to think ‘Mr.Killian’ is his dad.

This is as much a captain cobra fic as it is a captain swan one and it has a lot of Daddy!Killian feels (the three best things ever to write tbh, probs why this is so long. Also ‘cause it’s a modern AU and I always make those super long)

Rating: FF (Freaking Feelsy)

~17,700 words (so outrageously long wow)

ff.net and ao3

As head of the Books and Manuscripts Department in the New York division of Gold’s Auctioning House, Killian Jones understood the charm of ancient letters, the allure of rare books filled with secrets never spoken aloud. But dear god, the amount of money people were willing to spend for a scrap of Jane Austen prose was frankly absurd.

What would they even do with it, he often wondered. Would it be proudly displayed in their living room amongst other flauntings of their wealth, both intellectual and monetary? Would it be used to brag to their friends about the exclusiveness of the item? Or would it be appreciated as it should be, used as a reminder of days long gone, of a lifetime of an extraordinary woman and writer, of a pillar of English history and literature?

Being an English Literature major, Killian perfectly understood the latter. The former, however…

But this was Gold’s Auctioning House and his boss surely wanted the influx of money to be as big as it could get, wanted people to bid and fight in a direct battle against one another, transcending the actual estimated worth of the object and assuring the Auctioning House as much profit as possible.

It strayed far from Killian��s own ethics, the principles and good form brought to him by his older brother and ingrained in his being, but he was surrounded by literary treasures, was expected to keep them safe. Besides the rich, pompous atmosphere that clung to the walls and customers like a sharp perfume, he adored his job. This was what he was meant to do.

--/--

“Henry! No! Stop!” a female voice yelled.

A form, which Killian assumed was the Henry that needed to stop, flew along the archives and came to a halt right in front of him. It was a child with brown hair swept across his forehead and big brown eyes. His small chest slightly heaved with the running he had done and his eyes looked at him with something between wonder and fear.

“Hello,” Killian said, crouching down to turn himself from a scary giant into a friendly face, which seemed to work as the fear left the child’s expression, only leaving the wonder.

“Henry!” was yelled again and this time the woman to whom the voice belonged joined them as well. She ran, her blonde ponytail bouncing with the movement and her eyes scanning the rows frantically in search of the boy.

“I’m here, Mommy,” Henry said.

Her head snapped towards them and Killian could see her eyes widen in shock as she took in her son with the head of the department kneeling across him.

“Henry, you can't run off like that,” she reprimanded but her words lacked real authority. Killian would assume that was because he was there. The woman grabbed Henry and pulled him closer to her, as if she wanted to cover him, as if she felt the need to protect the lad from him. Henry’s little arms went around her white sweater as she picked him up and placed him on her hip.

Killian didn't recognize her. It wasn't unusual for him to not know everyone that worked in the department. They were one of the biggest of the company and Killian mainly had contact with the people who were directly below him on the hierarchical ladder. They were in charge of hiring the employees they needed and as long as it fit the budget, Killian would not interfere. He was certain that if he had seen her before, he would've remembered her; there was something alluring about her presence. It was a light against a dark canvas. Something that would leave a trace, that would still be visible eons after it had been there.

He stood up again—as there was no need for kneeling on the floor anymore—and left his thoughts about the impression she’d made on the cold granite. He looked her in the eye. An explanation of why Henry was running around here, and why she was still here while the rest of the employees had long left, was still owed to him.

“I'm so sorry, Mr. Jones,” she began, apparently recognizing the request in his eyes. “I couldn't find a babysitter and I wasn't finished here, yet. Henry normally knows that he can’t run off and that he needs to keep quiet but he decided to ignore that today.”

“Normally?”

Only then did she realize her words and what they betrayed. She flinched, closing her eyes and scrunching up her nose and it was quite an adorable sight, even more so with the toddler in her arms softly patting his mother's face.

“You do this often?” he asked.

“I wouldn't say often,” she attempted to worm her way out of the situation. “But finding a babysitter is hard sometimes.” Her shoulders moved in a shrug and it conveyed sympathy on Killian’s behalf.

“What's your name?”

“Emma Swan.” She bit her lip as she answered.

“And I'm Henry,” the boy introduced himself proudly.

Killian felt a chuckle come up with Henry's openness, with the innocence that beamed out of him.

“Well, Swan,” he addressed Henry’s mother. “It's alright. Just make sure the lad doesn't touch anything he's not allowed to. I don't know how I would explain to Mr. Gold that a four-hundred-year-old manuscript was destroyed by a two-year-old.”

“I am three!” Henry objected, his small brows pulled into a frown. “And almost four.”

“I am sorry, lad. By an almost four-year-old,” Killian corrected himself while playfully ruffling the boy’s hair. Swan eyed him with wariness. Either she did not trust him to be close to her child or she did not trust his words of reassurance: the words promising her there were no consequences for bringing Henry, the words that told her she could continue to do so.

The words asking her to trust him had already gathered on the tip of his tongue, only requiring one last push to be pronounced, but Killian held them back. She did not know him, he did not know her. They had far too little insight into each other’s characters for him to request such a favor. He supposed a certain wariness towards the man in charge was not unsmart; he certainly did not trust his own boss fully, but then again Gold was a furtive man and Killian was… well, Killian. Hopefully, Emma did not consider him furtive. He hoped none of his employees did.

Before he could let his worries about her opinion on him take over, Killian chose to part with Emma and Henry, to finally go home as he had intended in the first place.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening,” Killian said with a nod, announcing the decision he had made to his company.

Swan readjusted her grip on Henry, shifting the boy from her left hip to her right one.

“You too, sir.”

--/--

“Swan, Henry.”

It made him happier than it should have, seeing her nibbling on a pen as she stared at a row of documents while Henry sat at a small table, drawing chaotically on the white sheets that lay upon it, exactly a week since he had first met the pair.

“Mr. Jones.” She removed the pen from between her lips, stood a bit straighter and quickly checked on Henry to see if he was behaving. “I'm almost done here. We’ll be out of your hands in no time, I promise.”

Her white sweater from last week was replaced with a purple blouse but she still wore pants in that same shade of blue and the same high boots that almost came up to her knees. Her hair was loose today, no hair tie confining the wild curls flowing across her shoulders and with every small movement she made.

“Don't worry about it, Swan. I am done for the day,” he announced. An idea sprung in the back of his mind as he saw Henry peer up at him, some sort of yearning in the boy’s eyes. It had to be boring sitting here while your mother was focused on her work. “If you want—” Involuntarily, his hand went behind his ear to scratch, betraying his uncertainty, the hesitance with which he spoke and of which he hoped she had not noticed.”—I can watch Henry while you finish up.”

“Oh no, that's not necessary.” Her head shook, to decline or to get rid of the surprise that flashed across her features. “I don't want to be a burden.”

“You're not and I offered.” His eyebrow rose. “I have a feeling Henry has some interesting things to tell me.”

“Mommy, can I?” Henry asked with an unprecedented enthusiasm, sending his crayon flying over the smooth surface of the table and onto the floor. It seemed the fondness he felt for Henry was reciprocated by the boy.

She was overpowered by them, stood alone while they stood together and in the end, she had no choice but to accept. Killian knew that. It may have been a bit low to enlist a three-year-old but if it was what the three-year-old desired and if it was by his own volition, who was he to stop the boy from looking up at his mother with the most doey eyes Killian had ever seen? While he expected Emma to have acquired some sort of immunity against the adorableness of her own son, she did not have any resistance against his blue eyes copying the act.

“Alright,” she sighed and bent down to speak to her son. “But Henry, please behave yourself and we are going home when I say we are, okay?”

Well-behavedly, Henry nodded. Swan stood back up, it being Killian’s turn to be addressed.

“I’ll try to hurry,” she promised him and Killian smiled in response.

“There’s no need, Swan. The lad and I get on just fine. Take all the time you need.”

With that, they were off. At first, Killian attempted to lead Henry to his office by telling him where to go, but he would not listen, straying from the path he had outlined for them and Killian realized the boy had no idea what left or right was and had no desire to learn. Seeing no use in continuing with his previous strategy, Killian simply offered his hand to Henry, which he gladly accepted.

“Here we are.” Killian opened the door and Henry ran in, head turning from left to right, scanning the entire room.

“Wow, you have a boat?” he immediately noticed, commenting on the large ship that stood on top of one of his filing cabinets. It was one of Killian’s most prized possessions, the replica of Captain Hook’s Jolly Roger Liam had gotten him for his sixteenth birthday. Later, Killian had discovered that the “replica of Captain Hook’s Jolly Roger” part was a whole lotta quatsch but the boat’s emotional value remained. By having it in his office, a piece of Liam was there too.

“It’s a ship,” Killian helpfully corrected. “And yes I do. I even have a real one.”

Henry’s eyes grew and his mouth fell open. Killian laughed with the amazement the lad’s features screamed.

“Can I see it, can I see it, can I see it?” The excitement made him trip over his words and almost trip over his own feet as he ran back to Killian, who saved him just in time from landing face first on the hard ground.

“Perhaps another day. For now, let’s stick to drawing, shall we?”

In acquiescence, Henry calmed down and let Killian lead him to the big mahogany desk that stood in the middle of the room. Killian lifted him and placed him in the fancy chair that stood behind it, a king on his throne. For himself, he rolled the chair that stood on the other side of the desk, the chair that was meant for visitors, next to Henry and sat down. His bottom drawer contained scraps of paper that had already served their purpose but had another go in them, were still capable to be doodled on or have little reminders scribbled onto them. Out of another drawer, Killian took crayons and two markers, frowning at the fact he did not have anything better for the boy to draw with.

“Mr. Jones?”

Henry’s small voice gently pulled him out of his thoughts and Killian moved his gaze off of the drawers and back to the child sitting next to him.

“You can call me Killian, Henry.”

“Mr. Killian?”

The boy pronounced Killian more like Killun which did all kind of things to Killian’s heart. Maybe it would have been easier to let Henry continue calling him Mr. Jones but the words carried such formality, created such a distance between them that it felt unsettling to Killian. His employees—most of them, anyways—called him that but that was because it was expected of them, because it reminded them who called the shots, but Henry had nothing to do with that and Killian had no right to any authority over Henry.

“Aye, if that's what you prefer, that's fine by me,” he mumbled more to himself than to Henry.

“Mr. Killian, is that why you don’t have a hand?” Killian dreaded the words that were about to follow. “Because you are a pirate?” Henry whispered the words as if they were a secret, as if he was the only one that had figured out the mystery. The dread dissolved.

“No, Henry. I’m not a pirate, sadly enough. I wish I were,” he admitted, “That would mean I could sail around the whole world, across all of the seas and I would take you with me as my first mate.” Henry widened his mouth, revealing his little teeth while doing so, in a smile. “I don’t have a hand because I was in an accident and sometimes those can make people lose hands.”

“Okay,” he accepted. “Can you draw a boat for me?”

Killian had to suppress a sigh of relief. Henry seemed so unwavered by the lack of his left hand, so unscarred by the scarred tissue on his wrist. It was a refreshing feeling. Adults always seemed to struggle to look past it. They could not refrain their eyes from sympathetic glances, nor could they stop their mouths from asking the questions he had heard a million times before. Does it still hurt? How did it happen? Living without a hand must be such a struggle? Why don’t you wear a prosthetic?

“Aye, lad. I can surely try.”

There was knock on his office door after a while, a quiet, hesitant thing and both he and Henry looked up from the color-streaked paper on the desk. Emma’s face appeared between the door opening, her eyes unsure where to look until they landed on them.

“Mommy!” Henry yelled joyously, how only a child that has missed his mother would upon reunion, and jumped off the chair to run towards her. Killian leaned back and watched them.

“Hey, honey.” She smiled while opening her arms for him. “Did you have fun with Mr. Jones?”

“Mr. Killian.”

“Oh, you're on a first name basis already. Lucky you.” She kissed his forehead and stood back up with Henry in her arms. Emma looked at him. “I hope he wasn’t too much trouble.”

“None at all, Swan.” He shook his head with a contented smile. “We drew pirate ships.”

“I asked Mr. Killian if he was a pirate but he is not,” Henry said, slightly disappointed.

“Well, this pirate better get home and into bed.” Emma’s pale hand brushed over the top of Henry's head, her fingers brushed through the brown hairs. A clear sign of affection that made Killian’s smile even more content.

“But Mommy.” Henry pursed his mouth and Killian saw the doey eyes return.

“No buts, Henry. You promised.” She was firm, strict, how a mother should be, but still, the words were soft and kind. Motherly. “Now, say goodnight to Mr. Jones and thank him for spending time with you.”

At the mention of him, Killian stood up, treating it like an invitation to interrupt the mother-son bonding that was taking place.

“Night, Mr. Killian. Thank you,” Henry obediently said to him.

He approached them and stopped when there was still a respectable distance between him and Swan, but was close enough to share a moment with Henry.

“You are very welcome, Henry.”

His eyes shifted to her.

“Umm… thanks for keeping an eye on him.”

She sounded anything but certain, but comfortable in his presence. Killian understood. It was a strange situation they had found themselves in. And yet, one he wanted to experience again.

“It was my pleasure. Goodnight.”

When he finally got home, hours later than he would on a normal day, it was with a content feeling. A feeling he had forgotten even still existed and deemed impossible to ever course through his body and mind again.

A feeling he wanted to experience again.

--/--

It became somewhat of a tradition, a thing to look forward to every Tuesday. He would walk out of his office after finishing the paperwork from auctions held over the weekend, make his way towards the archives and see her there, diligently stacking and retrieving and returning while Henry sat at that same small table. He would greet them, Emma softly smiling in return and Henry jumping up in utter glee.

Killian had to admit that the sudden appearance of toys in his office and a very secret stash of candy had everything to do with the little lad that would visit on Tuesdays. His interactions with Emma were limited to a simple hi when he came to fetch Henry and have a nice evening when she was done with her work and was ready to go home. He could not deny that there was an urge inside of him to know more about her but this was the only time their paths crossed and it would be a very strange sight for him to suddenly appear in the archives during work hours, a place he normally never set foot in. So a hello and a goodbye was all they had, all they got and everything Killian treasured.

“Rawtch.” Henry jumped up from behind his desk in a surprise attack, his small hand wrapped around a green Tyrannosaurus Rex.

Killian copied the sound and fought back with his own duplicate. The two toys collided in a head to head battle, more growls accompanying the fighting and eventually, Killian forfeited, dramatically falling down onto the ground with a shriek proclaiming his demise. Henry jumped up and down, giggling as he danced in victory.

“Henry is the winner! Mr. Killian losed because Henry is stronger than Mr. Killian.”

“Oi, lad,” Killian remonstrated, risen from the dead again. “I’ll have you know that I only lost because you had the bigger T-Rex.”

“No, you losed because I am better.”

“Oh, that will cost you.” Killian jumped up from the ground and swept Henry off the ground, the boy playfully hitting him and wriggling to attempt to escape from his grip.

“What is happening in here?” Emma suddenly stood in the door opening, and Killian and Henry looked at each other with wide eyes and let go of one another.

Thick as thieves, they replied, “Nothing” in chorus.

“Alright then,” Emma said, unconvinced after a small and amused chuckle. “Henry, I know you’re having fun with Mr. Killian, but it’s time to go home.”

Henry pouted while putting his T-Rex back into the drawer, the one that held all of the toys, the one whose insides only saw the light of day on Tuesdays.

“Mommy?” Henry asked.

His little feet took him to his mother, who stood with an outstretched hand for him to grab. Killian deposited his own dinosaur in the drawer and closed it until it would be opened again next week.

“Yes, Henry?”

“Is Mr. Killian my dad?”

Emma looked as if she was going to choke. Killian was pretty sure he looked like he was going to choke. All the while sweet, innocent Henry looked at them, not aware of the gravity of his words, only asking a question and now patiently waiting for the answer.

“No, Henry,” she answered, a sadness taking over her features, darkening them almost imperceptibly. He could see the struggle, the smile that seemed to painfully pull at the corners of her lips, the lines in her forehead that deepened, the gentle ache in her voice, her effort to prevent her emotions to be noticed by Henry. But Killian… well, he did. “He is not.”

And while he wanted nothing more than to ask if she was okay—question why Henry would think he was his father—all of the signs Henry was oblivious to and Killian not, prevented him to do so.

“Let’s go home, kid. I’m tired.”

--/--

“Swan,” he acknowledged her on the Tuesday that followed.

“Mr. Jones,” she did the same but kept her eyes trained on the big shelves and on her hands sliding the books back into their shelter for the night.

Killian searched around, trying to find his company for the evening but the small table was empty and there were absolutely no indications—no paper stacked, no crayons strewn, no backpack propped against the wall—that Henry was here or had been here.

“Is Henry not here tonight?” Killian questioned, hoping that his disappointment seemed less clear, more masked for her than the poor attempt it seemed in his eyes.

“No.” Emma had still not looked at him, back still turned towards him. “He’s sleeping over at a friend's house.”

And while that was a good explanation, one Killian could have accepted, he couldn't help but shake the feeling that his absence had something to do with what transpired between them a week ago. He was quite sure of it, actually. Because Emma Swan had never been this cold, this distant towards him, not even when they first met, and he’d like to think she’d warmed up to him over the weeks and hours spent with Henry. So, it had to be the Dad Incident (with capital D and I because it was such a capital moment in his life).

“The lad doesn’t have a father?”

He was aware of how prying it sounded, of how much she did not owe any explanation to him, but the answer felt like a pivotal piece of information, a revealing part of Emma Swan. That was why he expected her to ignore the question, to yell that he had no right to ask, to take off. And that was why when she did neither, Killian had to control his features from confessing his shock.

“He does not,” Emma replied.

Killian wanted to ask on but he could see how closed off Emma was, how rigid her shoulders were, how faltering her breath. She still hadn’t faced him.

“Henry is lucky with a mother like you.”

If he heard correctly, Emma let out a gasp in response, but it was late and he was tired and it was probably only his imagination conveying the sound, making him hear what he wanted to. There was nothing else, no answer, no looks, only silence, so Killian let it go. Let himself go home and her stay. It was for the best, probably.

He lay awake that night, the worry a constant source of activity in his brain. She seemed okay, so did Henry. He was a typical three-year-old with a vivid imagination. There was no trace of unhappiness, of some sort of deprivation in those dark eyes. They appeared perfectly content.

And yet.

Her job did not pay a lot and she spent so much time working. Emma Swan was a dedicated employee but Killian highly doubted her work would get prioritized over her son, her dedication as a mom even greater. It had to be a necessity, the working late, a thing to make ends meet, to keep their heads above water. Killian had hoped she had someone to support her, to share the task of raising Henry, but the fact that she took the boy there every Tuesday had already been a red flag.

A sliver of silver light intruded his otherwise dark bedroom. Killian rubbed his hand over his tired eyes and it eventually rested along his cheek, a steady breath warming his palm. He sighed and his hand fell next to his body again. He rolled his shoulders to find a better position in the large, empty bed, between the cold sheets. Time passed but he had no idea how much time exactly before he finally drifted off.

--/--

“Belle?”

“Yes, Killian?” The brunette spun on her chair and her blue eyes met Killian’s, the corner of her eyes slightly crinkled by the smile on her lips.

He sat down on an empty corner of her desk, one leg still connected to the floor and the other dangling over the edge. He ran his fingers through his dark locks while he sensed Belle’s expectant gaze on him.

“Is there a woman named Emma Swan that works in the archives for you?”

If Belle was surprised by his seemingly random and very specific inquiry, she hid it well. Much to the relief of Killian; he had no idea how he would go about explaining his sudden interest in her. Then again, he was Belle’s boss; he had no obligation to explain himself to her, but as her friend, he kind of did.

“Yes, I hired her about—” Belle pursed her lips in thought. “—seven months ago, I would say.”

“And how does she do her job?”

Killian already had an idea of what the answer to his question would be but he needed to be absolutely certain, to hear it from someone who saw her every day and not only on Tuesdays.

“Incredibly, to be honest,” Belle replied in her typical Aussie way of speaking. “She's always the first one to arrive and the last one to leave. You would think putting and retrieving files into the archives has some greater meaning for the greater good the way she does her job. She has been my savior several times when the others failed me.”

Silently, Belle asked him if he needed to hear more, if she needed to tell him more.

“Hmm,” he hummed while softly shaking his head.

He knew enough.

Emma Swan had always been a good employee—working long hours, working until her body ached only to go home to care of a three-year-old. She worked faster than the others, more thoroughly and more immaculate. In the time it took the others to do one task, Emma would make sure she’d done two. If you were the best, the probability of getting fired, of ending up without any money, any food to feed your child, or the chances of getting kicked out of the closet their landlord dared to call an apartment were smaller. She had to be the best for Henry and a couple of hours of extra sleep were nothing compared to her kid’s happiness.

And still, one day when her boss—not Belle but her boss-boss, Mr. Jones or Mr. Killian as her kid had called him… Mr. Killian and something else—summoned her to his office, Emma was one hundred percent sure that it was all over for her.

She’d walked this path through the halls several times, but never had she done it on a Friday, never had she done it when there were other people around, when the sun had not yet set. Those never’s were the instigators of her fear, of her conviction that she was getting fired.

Emma had tried to forget what happened last Tuesday and more importantly, the Tuesday before that, but it had taken a lot of power to barricade those thoughts and sometimes a brick would fall down, giving leeway for the memory to slip in and catch her off-guard.

Mr. Jones didn’t seem to be a vindictive man, far from it actually; he seemed kind and gentle and Emma completely understood why Henry would want to know if her boss was his dad. At least that would explain his behavior, his caring about them. No, he was not a vindictive man, but why had he suddenly decided to fire her now?

Halting before the door, Emma stared at the silver plaque. Killian Jones. Head of the Books and Manuscripts Department. She let out a shuddering breath, closing her eyes while pushing her balled hand forward until it met the wooden door, creating a harsh knock in the process.

“Yes, come on in!” a muffled voice yelled. The door did not suppress the British lilt of the speaker, however.

“You sent for me, Mr. Jones?”

“Ah, yes, Miss Swan. Do sit down.” His hand gestured towards the chair across him.

He had never called her Miss Swan before. It was always just Swan. He was distancing himself, pretending all of those Tuesdays had never happened to make this less painful for him. Oh god. A chill ran up and down her arms. She was going to get fired.

“Please don’t fire me,” she begged before Jones could even begin speaking. “I have a son to take care of. I will work harder, work longer. Just… please don’t.” Her voice cracked on the last word and it felt like the dam holding back the tears in her eyes had too because a tear rolled down.

“Swan, I’m not going to fire you,” he replied, “On the contrary, I’m giving you a promotion for all of the splendid work you’ve done.”

But Emma still could not calm down, could not stop the tears from flowing regardless of how much she rubbed and how much she blinked. Through her blurry vision, she could see Mr. Jones stand up and walk around his desk. Her hands came up to cover her face, hiding her red eyes and running nose from him. Her chair slightly moved and as Emma peeked between her fingers to find out as to why, she detected him sitting before her, one knee on the floor and holding something in front of her.

"Stop crying, love. Breathe, Swan." His soft voice did seem to help a bit if she focused on it, if she didn’t think about where they were and who he was and what he had just told her but only listened to the sounds of his timbre, the cadence of his accent.

His hand was holding a navy blue handkerchief, offering it to her, and Emma accepted, pressing the piece of soft fabric against her eyes and nose.

Of course he was the kind of guy that carried a handkerchief with him wherever he went.

After having snotted all over the handkerchief and having calmed down to the point that the tears had stopped forming and she did not feel like dropping onto the floor and curling into a ball anymore, Emma hesitantly handed the used cloth back, grimacing in embarrassment.

"Sorry for ruining your handkerchief," she apologized.

Jones chuckled in reply and stuffed it back into his pocket before standing up again.

"No worries, love. Nothing a good wash can't solve.” He leaned against the desk, widening the distance between them while maintaining their proximity. “Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah. It's just—” Quickly, her hand tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I felt a bit overwhelmed. I really thought you were going to fire me.”

"Why would I fire you when you're one of my best employees?” His eyebrow went up as he questioned her fears. And when he pronounced them, a handsome smile on his lips, they seemed so irrational, so illogical for them to make sense. “Besides, I don't want Henry to be angry with Mr. Killian."

The affection in his voice, the affection for her kid, surprised her. Enough to make the words disappear out of her mouth and mind.

"How is the lad doing?" he asked, after some blinks of silence.

"Um… fine,” Emma replied, trying to restrict the shock in her voice. “He's being Henry which means a lot of questions and very little answers."

Mr. Jones laughed and Emma stared at him, the way a dimple appeared in his cheek and he slightly threw back his head.

This was her boss.

And she’d already had a mental breakdown and completely destroyed his handkerchief today She needed to leave. Right now.

“If you don't mind, I'm going to finish the thing I was doing.”

To make her words sound less vague, she pointed behind her but it didn't really help.

“Oh no, sure.” He seemed dazed for a moment, looking back at his desk in search of something and eventually giving up the search. “I'll tell Belle to fill you in about the new job, your tasks and what not. If you agree, she'll have your contract too and all you have to do is sign. You're free to go.”

Emma didn't even let him finish her sentence before she quickly replied thanks and dashed out of the office and more importantly, away from him.

--/--

Jones checked on her constantly, asked her to visit his office and every time, Emma got a flash of fear. She’d done something wrong. This was the end. Back to her crappy job and crappy pay and no more free time with Henry. She’d walk towards his office, bracing herself for the blow, and then he would just smile and welcome her. She would sit down and he’d asked how work was going, if she understood everything, if she had encountered any problems. And he would always finish with asking how Henry was.

It was always on a Tuesday.

--/--

Gold’s Auctioning House had a company holiday, two set weeks in July where every single one of them had time off. It had been part of the allure, part of why Emma eagerly responded to the rubric in the paper. Because no matter how shitty her job or boss could be, those two weeks were set in stone. Looking back, her boss had not been shitty and her job had only sucked because of the long hours and low pay. She never would've imagined that by the time July rolled by, she would’ve been promoted to an actual fun job with actual good hours. Either way, July meant two uninterrupted weeks spent with Henry and now that she’d received a higher pay, they would be able to go places, to do things.

Apparently, July also meant a Books and Manuscripts barbecue right before the holiday began. It was tradition, Belle had told her. Something that came into place when Jones had transferred from the London division right before the holiday and had wanted to get to know everyone before he officially became their boss.

Emma decided to ignore the event, decided to forego the fuss and simply stay home and watch a movie or two. She wasn’t really the socializing type and to be forced to converse with her colleagues, whom she barely knew, while eating hamburgers in some sort of team spirit before singing Kumbaya around the campfire, was something she could live without.

But she was careless and left the invitation lingering around her apartment and it ended up just in the right place for her best friend to find as she came to watch Henry. Mary Margaret Blanchard was her guardian angel—a mother even, had they not been only three years apart. She was kind and smart and was also a big supporter of Emma having a social life. So when she had cast her eyes on the sheet of paper, she had instantaneously offered to babysit, proposed a shopping trip and convinced Emma she should get to know the people she worked with.

All of which, Emma now regretted accepting.

Except for the shopping, because the red summer dress she was wearing was stunning and accentuated just the right places.

Her fingers toyed with the glass in her hand, with the condensation gathering on the outside, drawing little figures, writing her name in boredom. She truly knew no one here, no one of the overwhelming mass of people chatting and drinking and eating. She did not even realize this many people worked in the department. After another sweep of her company, she spotted Belle’s chestnut hair twisted into a braid. She was wearing a purple sundress and was engulfed in a conversation with a tall woman with bright red lips. They laughed and the sound was enough to chase away Emma’s idea to join them.

She took a sip of champagne and closed her eyes, letting the July sun warm her skin. The feeling made her lips curl in enjoyment.

“May I have your attention?” The voice broke her out of her summer delight and made her eyes pop open. She knew that voice.

Her suspicion was right because when her vision returned, Jones stood on a small stage, glass of champagne in his hand and all of the looks directed towards him.

“Thank you all for joining me in celebrating yet another successful year. This year has been the department’s most profitable year and that would not have been possible without all of your efforts. Mr. Gold has asked me to transfer his gratitude towards everyone and his hope that you will all participate to try and make next year even more successful. But let’s not think of that just yet. First, there are two weeks of well-deserved holiday that we all should enjoy to the fullest before returning to work. Heaven knows I will.” The crowd chuckled. “Enjoy the food and drinks and enjoy your holidays. It’s been a pleasure.” Jones lifted his glass and the others copied the movement before clapping with wide smiles.

Killian Jones was, besides Belle, the only one she had spoken with in the month following her promotion and he was the only one with whom the subjects of conversation were not solely dedicated to work. But surely he was busy at this event that he had organized and she did not want to bother him with her company. There was also the matter of her uncertainty when situations involved him. He was her boss but because of Henry and his curiosity, their lives were more intertwined than they should be.

Perhaps it had been a bad idea in the first place to have let him near Henry, to have let them bond because she now had her boss and her child constantly asking about one another. It was easy, though, to pretend Jones really was his father even if it only was on Tuesday; Henry gained a role model and she gained focus on her work. And god, if the sight of them playing pirate or dinosaur hadn’t attacked her heart enough already, her kid talking about his Mr. Killian as if he had hung the moon and lit the stars certainly would.

She grew sick of appearing lonely and fiddling around, having been on the receiving end of pitiful looks far too often, so she grabbed herself a new glass, placed a couple of onion rings—she owed the person who put them on the menu a profuse thank you—on one of the cardboard plates and removed herself from the party.

The park the gathering was held in was not particularly large but it was big enough to put a considerable distance between her and the people—person—she was avoiding while still being able to have a visual on them. There was a pond, an idyllic mass of water with water lilies on the edge and a pair of ducks occasionally traversing it, and it seemed like the perfect place to sit and relax and eat her onion rings. Her eyes fell on a bench, brown with green, mossy discolorations and with a view of the pond. Emma carefully picked a spot that was not tarnished by moss or bird poop that would not stain her new dress and sat down.

She was about to take a bite from her second onion ring when the sound of footsteps crackled along the branches lying on the cobblestone pathway, the connection between the party and the calm, the others and her. Emma looked up, fully expecting the intruder to be one of her colleagues out on a stroll or out for a smoke and preparing herself for a cordial nod before turning back to her food.  It wasn’t someone there to enjoy the scenery or inhale toxic fumes, it was him.

Mr. Jones. Mr. Killian, whatever. Him.

“Here you are, Swan.” He moved a branch out of the way to reach her. “I was afraid you had left."

The words made her frown. She didn’t matter. Why would he be afraid she had left? How did he even notice her absence?

He was nicely dressed but it had a casual air, as if he had just randomly picked something out of his dresser and put it on. The white shirt was tight around his body, emphasized every curve of his muscles and every sharp edge of his physique. He had one sleeve rolled up to his elbow and the other hung loosely over his left arm. Unlike other times she had seen him, he was now wearing a prosthetic, a near-to-life limb with curved fingers.

"Nope,” she said, her lips popping against each other. “Only wanted to isolate myself without really leaving."

Jones nodded towards the empty spot beside her, asking permission to join her and Emma agreed, seeing no direct reason to deny him. If he felt like sitting on a bench overlooking the pond with her, it was his right to do so. It was a free country after all.

"Ah, I get that."

"Isn't this your party?" Emma questioned the understanding he showed.

He had just made a speech to congratulate them all, had just been received with applause and smiles of his doting employees. There should be no reason he would want to leave them.

"I organized it but it's their—" Jones motioned his head to the others vividly babbling and drinking and eating. “—party.”

Quite a few things that she wanted to say appeared in her mind, but her gut told her they would all lead to risky waters, to too heavy conversations for the light and sunny day they were enjoying. And seeing that she forbade herself from uttering her thoughts, Emma chose not to reply, causing silence to dance around them.

It wasn't uncomfortable, perhaps a little unfamiliar, but not extremely so. They just had to adjust to being around each other without Henry babbling between them—without Henry in general and outside of work. Not that Emma was foreseeing a lot of situations where that would be necessary.

"So," Jones said, cautiously and metaphorically tapping the silence, creating a crack and a break. "—any fun plans for the holiday?"

The question was an ordinary one, one she would expect a lot of her colleagues would ask each other in curiosity or politeness, but Emma still hesitated to tell him her plans, to indulge him. It had been difficult enough to cut all—non-professional—ties with him and keep Henry away from him, wasn't telling him all about her two weeks off reverse all of the efforts she had made?

In the end, the soft blue of his eyes and the kind smile on his lips were enough to persuade her otherwise. She wiped her hands on a napkin, getting rid of the excess grease from the onion rings, and clasped her hands together before answering.

"Probably let my kid boss me around.” She shrugged. “It's been awhile since he’s had his mom for him all alone.”

Jones let out a sound that wasn't just a chuckle but also not only a hum; it was a mixture of both and Emma couldn't stop the desire to hear it more often from sneaking in.

"He's a lucky lad.”

She sensed the duality of his words, the underlying meaning of the statement and decided it was best to not reply. Too heavy conversations and all that.

"And you?" she eventually asked, "Any plans for the next two weeks?"

"Yes,” he replied, stretching the word out until it was nothing but a hiss. “I'm going on a cruise.”

Her brow slightly furrowed as she tilted her head in surprise.

"Huh.” Her eyebrows rose again and her expression became more neutral, or more positive, at least. “Cool. Didn't peg you as a cruise kinda guy, though.”

Jones lifted his shoulders, the white fabric of his shirt clinging to him like a second skin moving along.

“And yet, I am still going.”

He responded with a kind of defensiveness that made Emma look for a way to defer the conversation into a less dangerous territory and if the only way to do that was to talk about herself, so be it.

“I’ve never been on a boat.”

A sound of amusement left Jones’ mouth and it made Emma frown, retracing her steps and words to look for a clue as to what he considered so entertaining, especially so quickly after the shift in his mood.

“They’re called ships, not boats. There’s a difference,” he indulged her after noticing the crease between her eyebrows.

“I haven’t been on a ship either, so I did not know that.” Her words were creating her own defensive reaction; she didn’t want to seem uneducated, oblivious to ordinary things that he seemingly was an expert in. Emma didn’t want to stay that woman that didn’t belong with the crowd because he had brought her there.

“You really haven’t?”

Eyes focused on the calm and undisturbed water, Emma shook her head.  “Nor have I left the country.” She was supplying him with so much information and she couldn’t figure out why. She’d been so careful during their previous interactions, sticking to simple greetings and farewells. They entailed no risk but what she was doing right now did.

“Well, my accent kind of betrays that I have.” He was drawing the attention back to himself, which Emma appreciated greatly.

“It does.” Her movement slightly slowed down by her hesitance, Emma turned her head. Her teeth created a dent in her lower lip as she considered letting the conversation stop there and them part ways again, as she thought about staying in his company a bit longer. “Belle told me something about London?” The latter seemed far more tempting.

“Aye.” And if he was surprised that Belle and Emma had discussed him, he didn’t let it show, he simply told his story undeterred. “I was born south of London, moved there after I graduated from university, started working at Gold’s, became second-in-command and when Gold was searching for someone to temporarily take over the new New York division, until it was up and running, I took the chance.”

“You just up and left?”

“I did,” he said, making it sound so effortless to detach all connections and settle somewhere new. “Seemed a bit of an adventure. I don’t regret it.”

Emma hummed, letting him know she understood. “You were able to just start over. Can’t say how many times I’ve wanted that.”

His cyan eyes watched her carefully and Emma became too aware of her breathing and her movements and of every blink. He was trying to read her, to figure her out; she was no stranger to the feeling, the little alarm bells screaming that there was a trespasser over and over again. No one had ever actually managed—not without her full and complete consent—to figure her out, but it did not seem as if Jones required her to lower her defenses. His look was too understanding for that to be the case, too suffocatingly soft.

She cleared her throat, attempting to stop the obstruction preventing her from properly breathing, but it was in vain. It was all too much.

“I think I'm going to go home,” Emma broke the spell. “I don't want to bother my best friend with Henry for too long.”

“I'm certain the lad is being his stellar self.”

And again, Emma had no idea what to reply. Should she thank Jones? Pretend she didn't hear the compliment? Wave it off as if Henry wasn't the amazing child he was? Take credit for her kid being himself?

“I'm sure he is, but even Henry's stellar self can be a lot to handle sometimes.” Emma stood up and Killian followed the movement with his eyes. She reached for her empty plate of onion rings to dispose of it, but he put a halt to it.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said.

Emma’s hand hung awkwardly in the space between them, before she retracted it and clasped her hands together, the thumb of her right one nervously rubbing the palm of her left. “Thanks.”

He rose as well, his hand grabbing the greasy cardboard plate and towered over her as he approached. Emma had to tilt her head to be able to look him in the eyes and when she did, he simply smiled. It was an everyday gesture but somehow felt so rare. Like she had never seen a smile before, nor did she know dimples could appear and she wasn’t aware the skin around his eyes would crease.

Before she knew it, her own lips curled too. Across from each other, they stood, neither making any movements to leave. If Emma wasn’t too much in denial of it all, she would consider it a moment between them.

“I have to go get—” she reminded him and more importantly herself.

“—Henry. I know,” he finished her sentence while lifting a corner of his lips.

Emma blinked and quickly wetted her lips, her mind racing along roads filled with possible answers and responses, until it slowed down and settled for a kind and casual, “Have fun on your cruise.”

“I will, thank you. Have fun letting Henry boss you around.”

“I will too.”

“I’ll see you in two weeks, Swan.”

He nodded—and possibly winked but it happened so fast Emma wasn’t certain—before retracing his steps and leaving along the same path he had come, her little plate in his hand. Her gaze was glued to his backside as he exited and detected his now relaxed shoulders and the little spring in his step.

It was a good thing she had time to recover and clear her mind after today because she definitely needed it. Those two weeks would come in very handy.

--/--

Day two of Emma’s vacation and Henry had already made a schedule of what they would do on what day. Well, Henry had rambled things that were both manageable and quite frankly impossible—a trip to the moon was slightly over budget—and Emma had made a selection, planning them accordingly. Today, they were going to the zoo; tomorrow, spend the day with Mary Margaret and David; on Thursday, they would bake cupcakes, and so the list went on.

“I really wanna see the monkeys and the tigers and the giraffes and um… Mommy!” Henry pulled her arm. “Do you think they have cobras?”

“I don’t know, Henry,” Emma answered truthfully. “We’ll have to ask, but cobras are very dangerous animals.”

Emma scanned the street for oncoming traffic and tightened her grip on Henry’s small hand as they crossed the street, a couple of steps closer to where the fun would begin and all of her son’s questions would be answered.

It was silent again and Emma could already spot the bustle of people, the parents with their offspring in tow, making their way to the zoo. It was a perfect day, not too warm, not too cold, perfectly average, for a visit to the zoo and it was clear she hadn’t been the only parent to think so. They stood still while Emma was grabbing everything she required before entering.

“Mommy! Mommy!”

“What is it, Henry?” she said a bit annoyed, eyes and hands scouring the insides of her purse for their reservation and her wallet.

“It’s Mr. Killian.”

Emma shook her head while her eyes were still trained on the leather purse hanging on her shoulder.

“Honey, that's not possible. Mr. Killian is not—” Henry tugged on her shirt and she let out a frustrated sigh. “Henry, I’m trying to find our reservation. We can’t go inside if I don’t find them.” Her words appeared to work as the pressure on her waist disappeared. And finally, her fingers encountered the small, square of paper.

“I got them!” Emma exclaimed in victory. “Now, we can go inside, Henry.” But there was no sign of her son. “Henry?” She felt the fear soar as she could not detect his brown locks or bright backpack anywhere. She was on the verge of turning frantic, of starting to scream his name at the top of her lungs until he reappeared in the mass of people.

That was when she saw him. Both of them actually.

He had Henry in his arms and determinedly walked her way once their gazes met. He had Henry. Everything was alright, Henry was alright. He had Henry.

Emma met them halfway with both relief and anger streaming through her veins.

“Henry Swan. Don’t you ever, ever run off like that again, okay?”

“Yes, Mommy.” He pursed his lips in regret. “Wanted to say hi to Mr. Killian.” The big, brown eyes quickly filled with tears and Emma took Henry out of Jones’ arms and held onto him tightly, closing her eyes while basking in the feeling.                                      

“I know, baby, but you gotta be careful, alright. What if it wasn’t really Mr. Killian? What if you couldn’t find me again? That would not be good, would it?” The liquid of Henry’s tears drenched through her shirt and Emma gently bounced up and down to calm him down a bit, cupping his head.

“Sorry,” he mumbled against her shoulder and instead of replying Emma chose to kiss the top of his head to reassure him, to tell him her anger mostly consisted of fear.

She breathed Henry’s smell in and let the air woosh back out in relief. Opening her eyes anew, she was reminded of his presence. Jones seemed perfectly content with just watching them, though.

Emma slightly frowned and claimed his attention with a soft voice, almost a whisper, “I thought you were on a cruise?”

“Ah,” was the first thing he said and it was followed by his hand disappearing into his hair. “I canceled it. Realized I wasn’t really a cruise kinda guy.” His lips moved into a smirk as he repeated her words from a couple of days ago.

It wasn’t really her place to question him about his whereabouts and he did just bring her son back to her. Something she hadn’t even thought about, hadn’t even thanked him for yet.

“Thank you.” Her head motioned toward the three-year-old in her arms.

In response, Jones’ shoulders went up in a minimizing shrug. “Don’t mention it, Swan.”

Of all the things she had noticed about Mr. Jones, the way he minimized his actions was one of the more surprising ones. Types like him often boasted about their accomplishments and acts of benevolence with a puffed out chest, but Jones always swept them aside to a point where one could think he was embarrassed by all the good he did, of all the fame he received in return. He had voluntarily spent hours with Henry to make her work easier and never once asked for something in return, insisting that he did not require anything. A thank you from Emma’s part had even been too much sometimes, his hand already waving it away before her lips could close around the word. Maybe Emma had miscategorized him, placed him in a group with people he did not belong with, with characteristics he did not have. But where did he belong? Who was Killian Jones?

Henry moved, leaving Emma’s shoulder that was functioning as a hiding place, and shyly looked up at her. The remnants of tears lingered on the edges of his eyes and Emma felt the sight tug on her heart, felt her motherly mode activate as she tenderly wiped them away and offered him some more consolation.

“You think you’re ready to see the monkeys and the tigers now?” she asked. Henry sniffed and nodded but the answer wasn’t enough to satisfy Emma. “But are you completely sure, because we could go home too, if that’s what you wanted.”

He leaned back, straightened his back and started shaking his head. First, slowly but as his conviction grew, the movement accelerated, shaking both Henry and her.

“No, no, no, no, no. Henry is ready. I wanna see all of the monkeys.”

Emma laughed, happy with the return of her kid, of how she knew him to be.

“Well, if that’s what you want, then we’ll go see all of the monkeys,” Emma confirmed before setting her son back on the ground. Holding him for longer periods of time was getting more difficult now that he was growing so fast. It all went by in a flash. She could still remember when small, little Henry was placed into her hands. It had changed everything and Emma would be the first to admit it had not all been a fairytale with rainbows and sunshine, but it had been real. Filled with pain and tantrums and wondering if their life would ever become better, but they had made it. Together.

Henry clasped his small hand around hers when her arms dropped him off on the ground and it seemed like he had momentarily forgotten about the presence of his beloved Mr. Killian too, because his eyes widened when he saw him.

“Mr—” His greeting was interrupted by a small hiccup, a side effect of the crying fit he had been afflicted with. “Mr. Killian,” he attempted again. “Mommy and Henry are going to the zoo. Will you come too?”

Emma should’ve seen this coming. Of course, Henry would want him to join them.

“Henry.” It was said in a mix of disapproval and regret she had perfected over the years. “I’m sure Mr. Killian has better things to do than to go to the zoo.”

It was a lie. She was anything but convinced, to be honest. Jones had been standing with them for a while, had patiently endured Henry’s meltdown, Emma’s soothing, their talking. If he had anything better to do, he probably would’ve excused himself, left right after he had reunited mother and son. None of that happened, instead, he stood across them with an expression Emma could not decipher.

“I don't actually,” Jones replied, confirming her suspicion. “If your mum’s alright with it, lad, I would love to come along.” His attention moved from Henry to her, and not for the first time, Emma found herself attacked by two sets of puppy eyes.

“Mommy, mommy. Please, please.”

To deny them their request, required willpower Emma did not possess. Or she did but it was not reserved for unforeseen situations like this where she would only make the owners of the puppy eyes sad by saying no. So, while she mentally prepared herself for a whole day in the presence of Jones, she nodded.

“Okay, fine. Mr… Killian—” She gestured towards him in surrender. “—can visit the zoo with us. But no shenanigans. From either of you.” She sent them both a warning look, one they both did not notice as they were happily smiling at each other. “Those are my terms,” Emma stipulated.

“Well, I have a condition too,” Jones said and Emma frowned. Surely, he must have realized he wasn't in the position of having conditions. She was the one granting him a day with them and he was the one gaining in this situation. He and Henry.

“My treat. The tickets,” he clarified. “I'll pay them.”

While it was a generous offer, Emma felt dismayed by it, almost offended.

“I don’t need you to be some kind of savior. I am perfectly able to pay for this myself.”

Jones’ hand came in front of him to calm her down, to reassure her that his motives were true.

“I know, Swan.” There was no irritation, no embarrassment, no smarty undertone. Just sincerity. He knew. “I simply wanted to thank you for letting me tag along.”

Oh.

The shame warmed her cheeks and turned her skin a rosy color. Her free hand brushed some hair behind her ear while attempting to cool off her face by subtly placing her palm on it.

“Sorry. Um… I had already reserved some tickets for Henry and me online but I'm sure you can just buy another one...”

An impatient pull snapped her out of the situation.

“Mommy. I wanna go to the zoo.”

“Yeah, kid. We're going right now.”

Jones was, though she shouldn't be surprised, a connoisseur of both sea animals and birds, providing all of them with elaborate background stories on the animals they saw, and was therefore, even more, Henry's hero. They walked and he pointed and by the time they had almost done the entire tour. Even Emma had learned new things and some interesting fun facts.

The zoo had a carousel, an old but well-maintained ride with horses, and Henry visibly lit up when he set eyes on it. As fast as his little legs could transport him, he ran until he stood before it.

He looked back at Emma and while he had not uttered a word, she knew he was asking for permission. In reply, Emma nodded, causing Henry to gleefully laugh at the prospect of getting a ride on the attraction.

A bench stood a bit further, far enough to avoid the bustle of excited children and hovering parents, but close enough to be able to keep an eye on Henry. Her feet were slightly hurting after the hours of walking they had done and the prospect of sitting down was far too alluring. She sat on one side and felt Jones covertly occupy the other one. With the utmost stealth, Emma risked a glance towards him. His eyes were on the carousel, focused enough for Emma to dare and turn her head completely, her stealth forgotten. She watched the curve of his jaw, the light stubble that adorned it, the way his eyelashes hit the apple of his cheek every time he blinked.

He must have sensed her watching him—not that she was that subtle—as he turned his head and met her eyes. His somewhat shy smile prompted Emma to ask something she'd been wanting to for a while.

“Did you actually cancel your cruise? Because I’m quite good at spotting a lie and I wasn’t kidding when I said you didn’t seem like a cruise kinda guy.”

“No.” His gaze flickered back to the carousel as he briefly shook his head. Emma couldn't say she was surprised by the answer but she did expect extracting it out of him would've been more difficult. “I did not cancel my cruise because I never booked it.”

It did not come as a shock to Emma, nor did the knowledge that he lied to her sting like it normally did. She abhorred liars, hated it when their words were badly received by the lie detector embedded in her brain. And once a liar, always a liar, especially if it involved such a small lie that could be avoided. If his first instinct was to lie, it always would be. But somehow, it was different with him.

The circumstances were the same; he had lied because he wanted to hide something and he'd told the lie twice. Emma's reaction to finding out, however, was not. She was calm and was ready to hear his story. Maybe it was her gut telling her that he was a good guy and his lie was not meant to hurt anyone, just to protect himself. How her gut had figured that out, she had no idea.

“Why did you lie?”

Jones wiped his hand on the jeans of his pants, rubbing and clenching, telltale signs of nervousness. Emma did not want to put him on the spot, force him to tell his tale to a virtual stranger when he was not ready.

“I don’t know if this makes it better or worse but as far as our colleagues know, I’ve gone on a cruise every single year since they’ve known me.”

“And you’ve never actually gone,” Emma concluded.

“No.” His eyes sought out hers only to break the connection again when they crossed. “I’ve spent every holiday in New York. To think of it, it’s a miracle I haven’t run into anyone sooner. It’s not like I’m in hiding or something.”

“Far from it, Henry was able to spot you from a mile away.” Emma softly smiled, simply turning the corners of her mouth upwards but keeping her lips glued to each other. “But why though? Isn’t it just easier to tell everyone you’re not going anywhere than lie?”

“I’m their boss.” Jones shrugged. “They all expect me to go on some extravagant trip around the world because that’s who they think I am, who they perceive me as. When I moved here, I wanted to start anew, not drag my past along, so I put on an act. And staying home all alone did not fit that act.”

Emma opened her mouth to react but was interrupted.

“Mommy!” They both changed their demeanor, pretended their topic of conversation was far lighter than it truly was and smiled when Henry came running. “It was so fun!”

Killian Jones was broken, Emma realized. It seemed like he genuinely enjoyed Henry’s company and that Henry acted as a distraction of his brokenness. She understood—the being broken, the solitude, the little sparkle of hope that Henry could be in a bleak existence. It would seem that they were a lot alike. Kindred spirits. That realization shifted the way she saw things. The way she saw him.

“Killian,” Emma addressed him for the first time, “I was wondering if you’d like to join Henry and me again tomorrow. We’re going to buy cupcakes and eat them in the park.”

Both Henry and Killian watched her with big eyes, the one in surprise and joy, the other in utter shock and confusion.

“Are you certain?” His dark brows furrowed. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Oh, you won’t,” Emma assured. Her lips were a smile, her voice kind. “I’m sure Henry would love to spend some more time with Mr. Killian, wouldn't you, Henry?”

“Yes!”

Emma looked from Henry to Killian, her eyebrow raised to ask him once again but without words and Killian nodded in acquiescence.

“Then it's settled.”

His hands were sweaty, a clear external sign of his internal nervousness. Or perhaps it was excitement; or a sweat-inducing mix of the two.

Emma had invited him to spend another day together with her and her son after their run-in yesterday. This was different though; yesterday was one hundred percent coincidental, only occurring because Henry had seen him while he and his mother were waiting before the entrance of the zoo and as Killian was making his way to the docks. It was a joyful reunion. They had not seen each other in weeks and while he couldn't assume anything about Henry, Killian surely had missed his Tuesday companion.

It had taken Killian about seventeen seconds of Henry's babbling to realize that he was missing a blonde mother, or his blonde mother was missing Henry. He grabbed ahold of Henry and scanned the crowd in search of her.

He had found her, they had found each other and they had spoken and walked and watched animals and it had been a long time since he had had such a diverting day. Which was why, when Swan proposed another one, he had to put a break on his excitement so his wholehearted ‘yes’ would not seem too eager.

Which was why he felt nervous as he waited on a bench by the entrance of the park Emma had told him to be at three p.m..

There were still four minutes left until the levers of his watch would signal it was time. Killian had been watching them constantly, keeping an eye on the time, letting the minutes tick by. He was a punctual man, always had been. There was a whole backstory to why he considered tardiness as most irksome, one that was filled with pain and heartbreak. Liam and he quickly learned in life that people who tended to be late were often of the unreliable sort and they were to be banished from their lives, avoided at all costs, in order to prevent history from repeating itself.

He rarely took risks just because of that reason, because taking risks had led to losing people and losing people had led to sorrow, sorrow had led to drinking and losing complete control and that had almost ruined his life. So he took back the reins, got his life in order, started anew, and was always on time.

That hadn’t changed but this definitely was a risk. Everything involving Swan and her boy had been, and still, he pursued, continued bonding with them, kept on meeting them and accepted their invitation. Because not taking risks could be very lonely at times.

It was forty-nine seconds to three p.m. when they appeared in his sight, walking hand in hand, engaged in a vivid conversation.

Stretching his legs, Killian stood up as they approached to greet them properly. There was nothing fraudulent about the happiness that he beamed, this was truly what their company did to him.

“Emma, Henry,” he acknowledged when they came close enough.

“Killian,” Emma politely retributed.

“Mr. Killian!” Henry almost yelled, his childish enthusiasm taking over. “Look, pirates!” Henry’s small index went to point at his bright shirt that was indeed decorated with pirates and ships.

“That’s incredible, lad. I’m very jealous of your T-shirt.”

“Mommy.” Henry pulled on Swan’s white blouse. “Mr. Killian likes my pirates.”

Emma laughed. “I know, honey. I heard. You clearly chose the best T-shirt to wear today.”

They began to walk in the direction of the playground, Henry filling the small promenade with words that were occasionally difficult to follow and seemed to skip from one topic to another but that were very entertaining nonetheless. The boy’s imagination kept on astounding him time and time again. He’d make a fine author or storyteller one day, of that Killian was sure.

The time flew by as Henry went up the slide and down, swung forwards and backwards on the swing, and built and destructed a castle made out of sand.

“Hey,” Emma addressed him, “do you think you can handle Henry alone for a while? That way I could go get the cupcakes.”

“Aye, love. No problem. I’ll keep a close eye on him.” Killian solemnly nodded while promising the safety of her son in his hands—well... hand. Emma smiled and brushed her palm along his shoulder in a thankful gesture.

“You’re a hero. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She turned her heads. “Henry, I’m going to get our cupcakes. Behave yourself with Killian, okay?”

Waving, Swan left them alone. She trusted him. Enough to leave her son with him. She had done that before, multiple times even but there was a difference. His office bore fewer risks than an open, public playground especially with a child like Henry. Emma Swan trusted him. The knowledge brought a smile to his lips as he let it sink in.

“Mr. Killian, look!”

A woman walked by. She was older—mid-sixties Killian would presume, her perfectly coiffed dark hair streaked with grey and her tanned skin wrinkled—and was taking her dog out for a walk. It had the cutest set of floppy ears and a grey tail and as soon as Henry saw the dog, he ran towards it in typical Henry-like fashion. There was no stopping this boy.

“Henry, wait!” he yelled, trying to prevent him from attacking the dog and possibly spooking it, but the woman waved her hand to show it was alright.

“You don’t have to worry. Alma is a good girl, she won’t hurt anyone,” she spoke, a different culture coloring and shaping her words.

“Alma?” Henry asked, hands scratching Alma’s back. “That’s pretty.”

“Well, thank you. And what is your name?” The woman slightly kneeled—which was impressive considering the height of her heels—to diminish the distance between her and Henry.

“Henry.” He watched the woman with big eyes, attempting to take everything—the hair, the jewelry, the clothes—before him in. Killian was accustomed to these kinds of people, they were his biggest customers—who else would spend hundreds or thousands of dollars on the books and manuscripts Gold’s Auctioning House had to offer—but he could see that Henry was not. His eyes darted from one place to another, not knowing where to stop.

“Nice to meet you, Henry.” The hand that wasn’t holding Alma’s leash kindly shook Henry’s. “I’m Isabel and this is Alma.”

Alma reacted to her name, enthusiastically barking and startling Henry out of his reverie. His little feet were trampling on the grass in anticipation or longing to run and play with Alma and it seemed like Killian wasn’t the only one that picked up on that, Isabel letting go of her connection with Alma and giving the dog her freedom back. Henry looked at Killian and with a nod, he received the same.

“Mind if I join you?” Isabel asked Killian as he settled on a bench.

“Be my guest,” he said with kindness.

Their heads moved synchronously from left to right as if they were watching a match of tennis instead of the game of fetch Alma and Henry were participating in, both of them running and jumping and making sounds of exhilaration.

“How wonderful children are.” Isabel shook her head in astonishment, her brown eyes sparkling in delightment.

“They truly are,” Killian agreed softly, the same sparkle most likely reflected in his own blue eyes as well.

By the time Swan joined them again, cupcakes stored in a box between her hands, she began laughing at the scene—Henry peppering Alma with butterfly kisses—in front of her and continued to do so when Henry almost tackled her while chanting “Mommy!”

“Hey, kid.”

“I’ll clear some space for you,” Isabel said when Henry and Emma reached them. Killian rushed to intercept her but it was too late as she called Alma, the animal faithfully followed her order and approached the bench. She stood up, smoothed the fabric of her skirt and smiled at the three of them.

“You have an adorable family,” Isabel complimented.

He blanked, not knowing how to respond to the statement. They weren’t a family, only… well, Killian did not really know what they were. He was her boss, she was his employee, she was Henry’s mom. Nothing more.

“Thanks.” Emma accepted the compliment and smiled back at the woman she had only just met.

“Bye Alma, bye Izzie!”

Killian couldn’t help but send Swan a quizzical look once Isabel had turned her back.

“It's easier just to say thanks than to explain everything to a stranger.” She shrugged.

The sky had begun to turn that orangey-pink, the one that was quintessential to the beginning and the end of a day, without which the feeling of a new start and a content completion would be lost.

After devouring all of the cupcakes, they had played some more and talked some more. Killian couldn’t make himself leave, couldn’t make himself face that content completion so he tagged along to extend the day as long as he could. They bought a light dinner, the cupcakes still very present in their stomachs, and ate it too. He would’ve left if he felt unwelcome but the signals Swan was giving him were far from that. She was warm, tried to include him in every conversation, laughed with everything he said. She was making an effort and he didn’t know whether he should be grateful or wondering what had warranted the change. After dinner, Henry had almost collapsed on the grass they were picnicking on, the events of today so exciting and exhausting and all of the running and jumping catching up on him.

Emma watched his little chest inflate and deflate. “I hate it when I have to wake him up when he’s so soundly asleep, but we have to walk all the way home.”

Killian followed the direction of her gaze to the closed eyes of the three-year-old. He looked so peaceful and Killian understood Emma’s hesitance to interrupt that peace.

That was the only reason he made the suggestion to carry him home for her.

“Oh no,” Swan objected. “I couldn’t make you do that.”

“I’m offering, Swan.”

“But…” Her sentence died when he raised his eyebrows, challenging the words that were going to come out of her mouth. “Alright.” Her hands went up “Go ahead.”

It proved to be more of a challenge than he expected, lifting him without waking him and with only one hand to gently maneuver him, but with the very brief assistance of Emma, Henry ended up on a comfortable spot on Killian’s shoulder with only one small sound of displeasure.

The walk was mostly calm, quiet and without any conversation, as they both did not want to wake the slumbering toddler on Killian’s shoulder, but there were moments when he silently watched her and her gaze left the stones of the street to look at them, their eyes meeting. He shyly smiled, directing his eyes to the ground as the tingles ran up and down his arms.

By the time they reached her apartment, the streets had turned dark, streetlights diligently working to provide some sort of light and Emma used that light to find her keys. She let out a triumphant sound as her hand revealed the set and opened the door to grant him access.

Their apartment was small, tiny even in comparison to his average flat, but he could see Swan’s attempts to turn it into a home for her and Henry; the toys that were stacked in a corner, the drawings that adorned the walls, the soft grey that colored the room. She had tried to reach the best result with what she had available. It made Killian think of when he was younger, when he and Liam had to fend for themselves and try to survive in a very big and unfair world. It had been such a struggle but they had managed. So had Swan.

“You can put him in the room on the left.” She pressed the light switch and brought light to the room. Her head motioned towards a closed door as she was taking off her jacket and purse. A bit hesitantly, he followed her instructions, moving Henry to his left arm and grabbing the handle to enter the room. He could make out the vague form of a bed and moved Henry into it. His small feet still had shoes on them—the easy ones with Velcro’s thank god—and Killian quickly removed them and set them next to the bed. Checking if the boy wasn’t waking, Killian let his gaze fall on the bed one last time. He turned and opened the door again, leaving Henry with a final “Goodnight, lad.”

Once he returned to the small living room, there was no sign of Emma, at least until he tread close enough to the couch to be able to peer over it. In it she lay, asleep. Bright yellow socks on her feet, bright yellow hair across her face.

“Swan.” He softly prodded her to try and wake her but it was to no avail.  “Emma,” he whispered, but still no movement. For a second, he remained next to the couch, fiddling with his fingers, before deciding what his next move was going to be. Waking her seemed too drastic, especially if she was tired enough to fall asleep on her couch after mere seconds.Sleeping on her couch, however, couldn't be very comfortable since it seemingly belonged to the lumpy category of couches. Killian was going to make Emma’s rest as pleasant as possible. He searched the tiny apartment and came across a stack of blankets. He removed one, one that had small ships on it, and laid it over Emma's unconscious form.

He checked his surroundings for anything else he could do but nothing came to mind so Killian decided to go home. Before doing so, he reached into his pocket, took out one of his business cards that bore his number and wrote something on the empty white space with the pen that resided in the opposite one.

Thank you for today. -K

--/--

He got a text the next morning from a number neither he, nor his phone, recognized saying: You are very welcome. Henry wants to go to a museum tomorrow, wanna come? -E and promptly saved the number as Swan before answering: I’d love to.

--/--

With Henry’s obsession with pirates, Killian could not not take him and his mother out to the docks for a sail on the small ship he had the honor to call his. She was old and well-used but sailed like she was great a many years younger and was an absolute beauty, in her own, esoteric way. Killian went to pick up Swan and Henry with his car and drove them to where she lay, the spot where he spent so many hours painting and tinkering, where he began and finished all of his trips into the silence and calm.

Thinking back to their very first meeting, he remembered that Henry was somewhat disappointed to hear he was not and had never been a real pirate, but Killian was hoping seeing the Roger would make up for that and if it didn’t, a sail definitely would. Henry was a sailor in his heart and soul, not to forget, even if he was too young to have actually sailed a boat on his own.

“Is this it?” The boy pointed at a random boat swaying in the water.

“No, Henry,” Killian refuted.

“This one?”

“No.”

Impatiently, Henry grunted only to receive a very stern look from Emma’s part ordering him to behave.

“Here we are,” Killian said when they had reached her. With a quick gesture, he introduced them to the location they would be spending the next couple of hours in. “Swan, Henry, this is the Jolly Roger.” He was wishing they would not be disappointed by his humble ship and it seemed his wish was granted as he let out a small gasp as they stood still before her.

“Can we go on it?”

“We can and we will,” Killian chuckled, the relief encompassing him in one swoop.

The weather was perfect, even more perfect than he could have hoped for. The sun was bright and hot in the sky, the wind offering some relief against the rays of light heating their skin. The water lapped slowly, an affable welcome for both Henry and Emma who had not been on the water before. In spite of the good weather, it was calm around the docks and on the water, the side effect of it being Tuesday, but Killian was not complaining, far from it even. If this sail did not turn out to be the best day of this holiday, he would be the sole one to blame and he was going out of his way to avoid that.

Holding out his hand, he led Henry aboard, Swan following on his heels. He could see their efforts to steady themselves on the tilting surface, see the concentration on their faces as they tried to accustom to the peculiar sensation.

“Ready to set sail?” His eyebrow went up with his question.

Swan inhaled, her shoulders rising and eventually dropping as she let the air back out in one go, before nodding and wrapping her arm around Henry. “We are.”

Using the hook prosthetic he always wore while sailing, Killian opened a crate and retrieved two life jackets. Safety above all.

“A life jacket for you, young man,” he said, pulling the bright red contraption over Henry’s head and securing it in the right places. “And one for you, Swan.” Her eyes did not waver from his as his hand touched her neck, her shoulders, her waist. His hand almost trembled with the urge to linger, to caress her pale cheek and her soft curves. It almost trembled as he fought the feeling, painfully aware of where they were and who they were. She wasn’t his to caress and that was where it ended.

“All right,” Killian said, shaking himself out of his haze of self-pity and melancholy, summoning every ounce of excitement he had felt in the previous week, “You two are my first and second mate for today so I’ll need you to follow every order you get from me, understood?”

Henry’s bobbed rapidly as he agreed while Swan replied with a quiet “Aye, aye, Captain.”

They were eager guests, wanting to help wherever and whenever they could. Killian had to tell Henry on numerous occasions that he was too small for some things and the boy had countered every time that he would be four in less than a month—not that it helped to change Killian’s initial and final decision. Emma was more of a quiet learner, taking in everything he had said and turning it into practice only moments later, a little smile following when she was successful.

After a while, the hard labor of leaving the harbor was over and the Roger was calmly floating in the water, granting them some respite after all of the work they had done. Killian had provided a basket with some food and drinks and went to fetch it below deck. When he returned, Henry was slathering a thick layer of sunscreen all over his mother’s face and arms, Swan giggling along with her son as she, in turn, treated him to a coat of protection against the sun, albeit less chaotic than how her son was rubbing and applying.

“I think Killian needs some sunscreen too, Henry.” Swan smirked as she was well aware what her words would ensue.

Henry approached Killian with greasy hands and plastered them on his face. He threw her a dirty look and she just laughed in response. After their beauty treatments, they all settled on deck and started nibbling on all of the goods Killian had brought. Henry leaned against his mother’s chest while Killian sat across them, the perfect place to watch them enjoy.

The sun hit her skin and she glowed. Her skin, her hair, the gold flecks in her mossy eyes. They all lit up as she smiled. It was in that moment that he realized that she owned his heart. He could not return to his empty existence, lonely and on his own. It was frankly impossible to after her.

She was not his but how he wanted her to be.

--/--

“You already know where he belongs,” Emma told him later that day.

Killian was carrying a sleeping Henry again, a replica of the situation that occurred over a week ago. This time, it was not crossing along the playground but the sail that had completely exhausted him.

“Aye, that I do.” Killian couldn’t stop the warmth from creeping into his voice. He knew where to put Henry because they had been here before, together and somehow he had been granted an opportunity to do it all again. To spend more days with them.

“Sleep well, Henry,” he whispered to the dark room, fully aware that the boy had been sleeping for over half an hour and would not hear him. It was the gesture that counted.

Like last time, Killian went back to the living room but different than that time, Swan was awake on the couch. A quip left his lips before he could think about it.

“I'm surprised you're still awake, Swan,” he teased. “Last time you, very unceremoniously, fell asleep.” His lips formed a smirk as he came closer.

“Haha,” she replied, the sound without any humor. “I have a kid that decided to wake me up at 5:30 am last time.” Swan grimaced. “Luckily, Henry has learned that vacation means sleeping until at least eight.”

She was settled on the couch, jacket and shoes off like last time and a blanket slightly thrown over her legs. Her locks, that she had let loose during the day, were now gathered in a hastily thrown together bun at the top of her head. She was the image of relaxation. And he was awkwardly lingering around her. It was time go home, she was clearly ready to unwind and he did not want to overstay his welcome. As usual, his hand went up to rub his neck as he gathered his courage.

“Well, I'm not going to bother you any further. Good night, Swan.”

Her forehead creased as she tilted her head and rearranged her bun.

“You can stay a bit longer if you want,” she casually proposed. “I was simply planning to watch some Netflix so you definitely wouldn’t bother.”

“Oh… um. Aye, if you’re certain I won’t be a hindrance, it would be my pleasure.”

Swan made room on the couch, inviting him to sit next to her and assuring that he would not be a hindrance. Killian began with taking off his own jacket and shoes, placing them next to hers by the door. After a calming and somewhat heartening inhale and exhale, he finally joined Emma. He chose to sit down as far from her as possible. Of course, he would not have minded to sit slightly closer but he was in her home, was invited by her to watch some television and he did not want to take advantage of that or cross any borders. So, the corner of the couch, it was.

“Any preference?” Her blonde eyebrow went up along with the remote control, explaining her words.

“As long as it isn't anything horror, not a big fan of the genre,” Killian explained, internally cringing after he uttered the words. Way to go.

“I wasn’t planning on anything horror tonight,” she reassured with a wink. “That’s reserved for Halloween and Halloween only .”

Eventually, Swan ended up choosing a light comedy that did not require a lot of paying attention, but was truly funny and entertaining to the both of them. They laughed together over the antics of the characters and, in a moment of distraction, Killian noticed how Emma threw her head back as she laughed freely. It only made his grin grow even more.

Netflix began to count down until the next episode and Swan removed the blanket from her lap and stood up. Killian followed her steps to the fridge and saw her pull two beers out of the cold storage. Swiftly, she removed the caps, the metal clinking against the stone of her counter. The rough material of the couch did not shift as she sat down again, handing him a beer while sipping from the second one. As the title song of the show blasted through the apartment again, Killian noticed how they were suddenly sitting way closer than how they had begun.

“I know I've told you this before—” Killian began as another episode had ended and they both had decided to put a stop to it here. “—but Henry truly is a magnificent lad.”

Their empty beer bottles stood on the floor, their feet were in the couch, sometimes touching and sometimes not.

“You really like him, don't you?” Emma turned to face him with a soft expression. He nodded. “Henry adores you, he cannot shut up about you, so I guess the feeling is mutual.”

Killian already knew this. Henry had been pretty straightforward and open about what he felt, like any other three-year-old. He had even been too open at times. It was his mother Killian was still unsure about. He could read her and could see that she liked their time together but doubt and fear loomed in his mind. Did she reciprocate the feelings he felt—the feelings that had surprised him by appearing but also had been there from the start?

He still didn’t know what they were and even though defining a relationship, a connection, wasn’t always necessary, Killian needed this. To not go mad, to have some sort of footing. And a man at the edge of sanity did bold things.

“What about you, Swan?” he dared to ask, locking his eyes with her green ones. “Do you fancy me?”

He had expected her to frown, to be repulsed by his question, to order him to leave her apartment, but of course Emma Swan surprised him yet again by holding his gaze and smiling.

“Occasionally,” she admitted. “What about you, Killian Jones. Do you like me?”

Words are overrated, he thought as he drifted closer to her. Words are overrated, he thought along with yes, yes, yes. I like you. So very much.

Emma caught on to what he was about to do and met him halfway the lumpy couch, her glance moving from his irises to his lips right before they took that leap of being more. It was the biggest cliché mankind had ever known but time stood still when their lips touched. It was weeks and months of build-up, of yearning looks and adoring gazes that lead up to the moment where clocks stopped ticking, the world stopped moving and he was kissing Emma Swan.

--/--

They spent an additional three days together, taking Henry places, doing things, and once Henry’ was asleep, truly enjoying each other’s company. They’d built their own little world, a bubble that was so lovely that he never wanted to leave, never wanted it to pop. But the more time they spent together, the closer the end of the two weeks of vacation got. And even though he only admitted it to himself, in the darkest hour of the night, he was afraid of what was going to happen when they did end. They were in a grey zone, somewhere where he wasn’t her boss, where they didn’t care about other people. They now were more than what they started as but less than stable. Less than stable would not work once they were forced to return to work, get back into the strenuous daily string of events.

He was desperate to hold onto this feeling, to them.

“What happens at the end of this week?” he attempted to keep the worry out of his voice, to uphold some sort of casual air and lightheartedness.

Swan’s feet were lying across his lap while she was scouring the Netflix menu. It was a picture of domesticity and they had gotten to it in under three days.

“We go back to work?” Emma answered innocently, apparently confused by his question.

“With us, Swan.” His attempts proved to fail as he suddenly sounded so very tired. It was the absolute dread that drenched his bones, the nights he spent mulling this over. She was unaware of those as he didn’t want her to know, but it was becoming more difficult to keep it all to himself

Killian felt Emma shift, sensed her feet pull back as she finally turned her head to him and moved into a position that acknowledged the earnestness of their conversation. Folding her legs beneath her, she sat upright with her hand in her lap.

“Oh.” Her eyes slightly widened, mouth forming a perfect ‘o’. The serenity left her face as she crinkled her forehead. Her tongue darted out to assuage the dent her teeth were creating.

The fear was taking over, he could see it in the way her breathing accelerated, the way her couch was suddenly not big enough for the both of them. She was preparing herself to lift her walls again, figuratively mixing the cement to glue the stones together. This was what he was afraid of. Killian needed to interfere, or her wall would be blocking his completely bare heart

“Look, Emma.” Without actually moving closer, he attempted to reduce the distance between them. “I really enjoy spending time with you two and I don't want that to stop. I can understand if you’re uncomfortable with me being your boss and the thing,” he said, not knowing what else he could call it, “between us. There are no obligations whatsoever and if you’re feeling queasy about it all, you can just tell me. We can go back to how things were before the holiday, if that’s what you prefer.”

It would be the most difficult thing, return to work as if he had not seen and experienced paradise but it would be something he’d be willing to do for her if it meant her wellbeing.

“Really?”

With a sad smile, he nodded.

Before he could realize, Emma’s lips were on his and her hands were on his jaw. It was a soft peck, over in an instant, over before he could properly kiss her back. She lingered close, foreheads connected and her breath hot against his skin. Her thumbs were simultaneously rubbing circles against the apple of his cheeks as silence fell. He did not want to ruin the moment by asking her anything and she did not feel the need to explain the sudden burst of affection.

“I don’t want to go back to how things were before,” she whispered, an admission into his skin that made his heart thump faster. “It’s going to be weird going back to work, but it would be weirder to not have this—” Her nose brushed against his cheek. “–—anymore. So, I’m completely okay with slowly figuring out what this thing exactly is.” It was a timid statement, a quiet, calculated one but it was all Killian needed. He wasn’t expecting her to make any promises that brought her into a state of panic or anywhere but her comfort zone. Reassurance that he would not have to leave them behind was enough.

Killian kissed her to substitute the words that had disappeared out of his mouth, his hand tangling in her light hair and arm snaking around her waist.  He gave and took, searched and found, was cherished and worshipped.

In the dimmed light of her apartment, they watched each other, their initial plans long forgotten. He could almost feel the veneration, it was almost tangible in the air around them; it lay heavy on his chest and yet, he would not want it gone.

“You have a scar here,” she noticed, drawing her own finger along her skin. It sounded like a report, as if he had not known the cut in his cheek had been there for over twenty-six years.

“I fell when I was two,” he explained, recalling the stories he had heard as his own memory failed to muster the image. “It was a nasty cut. Liam thought I was going to die because there was so much blood.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I didn’t.” Killian shook his head.

Silence began to surround them again, almost bringing them back to the place they were before but it did not manage to do so as Emma broke it with a question.

“Liam’s your brother?”

She didn’t know. Killian was on the verge of sighing, but held the whiff of air in. They had so much left to discover about each other, so much of their stories left untold. She had the right to know all of him, but he did not want to burden her.

“Aye, he was.” As usual, the words were accompanied with a sting, “He died a couple of years back.”

Emma crawled closer, burrowing her head under his chin, encircling his chest with her arms, until there was no space left between them, until their breaths and blinks and heartbeats occurred at the same time.

“I’m sorry.” Killian felt her hand brush across his jaw.

“It was a devastating night. Liam wasn’t the only one who died. Milah, my girlfriend back then, died as well.”

His world had been destroyed, he had ceased to exist. How could he exist without the two people whom he loved most, without the only people that loved him? It had been stupid, so stupid. Milah and he were young, went out to party but had both drunk too much and driving home was not an option. Why waste money on a cab when he had a big and worried brother at home who would not mind playing taxi? But that big and worried brother had also just gone to sleep after a double shift and had fallen asleep at the wheel as he was driving them home. Milah died. Liam died. Killian survived. It was a reversed world. How could he live and they not? How was that fair? He wanted to stop living, breathing, existing but in the end, he just stopped taking risks.

There were tears gathering at the rim of Emma’s eyes as she listened, the glitters making her eyes seem bigger, even more innocent.

The ache, the absence that used to be a throbbing all over his body, was now softer, easier to live with. It had taken moving across the globe, starting all over in a town that carried no memories of them, with people who had never known them. But, he was doing better and that was a start.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Killian.”

He was doing better and a lot of that was thanks to her.

“I never thought I'd be capable of letting go of my first love, my Milah. To believe that I could find someone else. That is until I met you.”

The tears on the edge of her eyes now fell, Killian instantly reaching out to wipe them away with the pad of his thumb. Emma leaned into his touch, closing her eyes while she basked in the feeling.

After a moment of calm, of letting the emotions steady again, she spoke, “So the Swans have finally conquered your heart?”

“You've had it for way longer than you realize.”

The fact that her boss was now also her boyfriend should be weird and awkward but it somehow wasn’t? Belle knew, including a handful of other people too but besides that, they had decided to keep it under wraps. While their relationship was very serious and came to be in a very proper and correct manner, people could think the contrary and start to trumpet false tales and gossip. And seeing that both their jobs were at risk if that were the case, as well as her child she needed to protect, a strictly business relationship on the work floor was as far as they went. And if they sometimes broke their own rules and succumbed under the tension by having a make-out session in his office after hours, Emma would attribute that to Killian’s divine looks.

But he was more than that.

Killian was sweet and funny and cheeky and just thinking of all of his characteristics made Emma break out in a grin and made her heart beat that tad faster; he was a catch and he was completely hers. Well, hers and Henry’s, but mostly hers. Ever since he’d come into her life, it had become so much better. From a better job and more free time, to helping with Henry and to feeling loved by a simple look and a small smile.

Emma couldn’t be more grateful for that one evening where Henry had run away and completely changed their future while doing so.

“Mommy.” Emma’s gaze left the dishes as she turned her head towards Henry, wiping her hands on a towel before walking towards her son. He was settled on the ground, face distorted in concentration as he attempted to build the puzzle Killian had given him for his birthday. “Is Killian my Dad?” he asked once she squatted next to him.

“What?” was Emma’s baffled reaction.

Last time she had heard this question was months ago, on that one night that made her freak out and tear Killian and Henry apart. She’d been so very wrong in doing so, she realized in hindsight, and eventually faith—or you could blame it on her curious child again—had made their paths and stories intertwine anew, this time into an inseparable mess that only became more interwoven.

“Is Killian my Dad?” Henry repeated impatiently. “He does all the things Avery does with his dad with me and he buys me puzzles and he is here all the time and I love him and Killian loves me. He should be my dad,” was his conclusion.

She wanted to freak out about what this meant and what she should reply but she couldn’t. Henry’s simple and matter-of-fact reasoning prevented her to do so. Yes, Killian did all of those things and yes, Killian loved Henry, of that Emma was sure. There had been no shortage of indications that he was all in, completely devoted to the both of them. And yes, the last couple of months Killian had been Henry’s dad, they just hadn’t used that specific term before.

So as the over-rationalizing swarm of thoughts left her brain and Emma could see clear again, Emma asked Henry a very simple question and the answer was going to determine the rest of their lives.

“Well, if that’s the case, you want to ask him if he wants to be your dad?”

There’s an angsty sequel of this fic coming at some point which will be called Trials so if you’re interested in that, keep your eyes open and if you’re not, you can easily pretend this is the actual end if angst is not your cup of tea ♥

[ellanainthetardis]

New banner! That I did myself ! Finally it’s Reaping Day! Let me know your thoughts!

[FF] or [AO3]

Chapter 14 :  Keepsake

Slumber evaded him.

Every time he closed his eyes, images of his Reaping haunted him. He knew the next day would be different, mostly because he already knew its outcome, but he couldn’t help it.

He laid in bed the whole night and stared at his ceiling, telling himself he could always get out of there, that nothing was set in stone yet. It would be easy. A word to the boy. Keeping his peace if Peeta’s name was called instead of his own. It would be easy.

And when he heard a noise downstairs, a little after dawn, the familiar creaking of his front door as it was pushed open, he thought that maybe the boy had had the same thought.

He propped himself on his left elbow while whoever it was climbed up the stairs, sheets pooling around his waist, his right hand ready to grab the knife on the nightstand if he needed to.

He knew he didn’t.

He knew who it was, had recognized her footsteps before he even realized who they belonged to. Brains were funny that way.

“Not clever.” he tossed, when Effie appeared in the doorframe. “Peacekeepers are trigger happy, these days.”

She strutted in. Red dress that clung to her body and golden wig that caught the pale sunlight streaming through the window, endless legs worth dying for… Goddess.

She looked smug and very pleased with herself, just like she always did when she had found a way to break the rules and get away with it.

He couldn’t help but smirk when she simply climbed on the bed and straddled his lap as if it was something they did on a regular basis. As if she was around more than once a year.

“There is a very impressive case downstairs worthy of the best prep team.” she declared. “I do not trust you to look the part of a victor, as you surely know by now, and it is my responsibility to make sure you are ready for the cameras.” She grinned, slowly grinding back and forth against his groin as if taking up something they had stopped a few minutes earlier. “Why, if there is enough make-up in there to repair the damages you will do when you thoroughly fuck me… It is a lucky coincidence.” It didn’t take much more than her rubbing herself on him a couple of times for him to stand at attention. That made her grin harder. “Hello, Haymitch.”

“Crafty.” he commented.

“Merely practical.” she retorted. “I have been aching for you and that stupid Head Peacekeeper would not let me come to you without a good reason.”  

He almost felt sorry for Thread. Standing in Effie Trinket’s way was never a good place to be. She could stare down an army if she so wished.

Since he was still propped on his elbows, she only had to lean in a little to brush her lips against his. He captured them brutally, chasing after them when she sat up straighter to reach for her wig. His mouth ran on her throat with a hunger he didn’t try to control, all the restrain he had shown so far flying through the window. Only lust was left. Lust and despair for her. He licked at her skin only to sink his teeth in the offered flesh.

“No marks.” she reminded him in a breathless whisper. She stretched her arm to carefully place the wig on the nightstand where it wouldn’t suffer his attacks. “It is awfully clean in there. There is almost a womanly touch to your house, this year. Did you find yourself a girlfriend, Haymitch?”

There was a possessive growl to her voice.

It turned to a yelp when he rolled them over, trapping her under his body.

“Housekeeper.” he corrected, leaving a trail of kisses from her throat to her breasts. “What’s this about an ache… Could be serious. Maybe I need to take a closer look.”

She laughed, her hand groping his backside under the sheet. “I see you have not lost this improper habit of yours to sleep naked.”

“You know me. Hate being hot at night.” he mumbled, pushing the neckline of her dress down with his chin to get better access. His fingers ran on her sides, searching for the zipper.

“I happen to remember you love it when it is hot at night.” she purred, pulling his head up by his nape to suck on the spot under his ear. “Or is it just when I am hot for you?”

He growled in answer to that attack, drawing back just enough to stare at her in the eyes. She innocently batted her fake spider-like eyelashes.

“Get out of this dress or I’m ripping it in two and you’ll have to go on that stage in your underwear.” he threatened.

The mention of what was to come made them both falter but she recovered first. As always.

“If only I had any…” she grinned.

He rolled his eyes, smirking like a maniac, more happy than he could have said to have her there. Despite everything.

They could have asked her to step down before the Quell instead of after.

He could have been forced to go through this by himself.

He kissed her. She seemed confused by how tender that kiss was given how dirty the previous ones had been but she rolled with it. Their mouths moved together, lips brushing, parting only to come back together, heads tilting to find different angles… Her hands ran through his tangled hair, messed it up even more, and then ran down his nape, his shoulders blades…

She broke the kiss with a gasp when she felt the swollen patches of skin under her fingertips.

“It’s okay.” he said quietly, seeking her mouth again.

She avoided his lips, watching him with horror. “You said it was not that bad. You said…”

“It wasn’t.” he muttered. “Come on. Don’t spoil the mood.”

“Let me see.” she demanded, already stretching her neck to…

“I’m fine.” he snapped. “It’s fine. Really not the worst. By far.”

“What have they done to you…” she breathed out, her face contorting with pain.

Anyone else, he would have accused them of pitying him.

Effie…

Effie, it was different.

“I’ve had to cut off.” he shrugged, keeping his eyes averted. “They burned down the Hob. They’ve been… Well, let’s just say Twelve hasn’t been that fun lately.” He snorted at his own euphemism. “Not that it had ever been fun. But… Yeah. No more booze.”

She touched his cheek, almost hesitant. It took him a second to gather the courage to look at her. She had seen him at his worst and lowest plenty of times. She wouldn’t judge. She also knew why he needed the liquor.

She probably had a good idea of how unbearable the last few months had been for him.

She would understand better than the kids did.

“How long?” she asked.

“Not sure. Before the announcement.” he sighed.

“When you wouldn’t take my calls.” she pouted. Her fingers danced on the new scars, mapping them out. “I wish I had been here to help.”

“You’re here now.” he dismissed, forcing the smirk back on his lips. “And I know what you can help me with…”

He sneaked a hand beneath her dress, struggling with the sheets that had somehow tangled themselves around his waist. He had to kick them down to the foot of the bed to succeed and that made her giggle. He loved the sound. He could have gotten drunk on that sound.

Any blood left in his brain rushed south when he realized she hadn’t been lying and she didn’t have anything on under that dress.

He was reminded of whiskey when he kissed her where she was wet and aching for him. How rich and intoxicating it could be. How one glass was never enough. How it always led to another one. How he could never stop, never let go. How fucking amazing it was to over indulge even when he knew it was getting dangerous. How aware he was that it would destroy him in the end...

Alcohol had always been an addiction he had been upfront about.

He hadn’t been that honest about her.

Watching her writhe and wriggle under his mouth…

It was worth any brand of liquor in the world.

His name on her lips when she reached her peak…

He wasn’t sure how they got rid of that dress but it ended up tossed over the other nightstand, knocking off a lamp in the process. He buried himself home in one thrust with something akin to relief and imposed them an almost frantic rhythm that soon had her crying out again.

He forgot about everything else.

He always forgot when he was deep inside her.

He wasn’t sure how that worked or if it was something specific to her – because it had certainly never happened with any other woman, it had never felt like that – but she became his whole world when he was pounding into her. She was the only thing in existence. She was…

After months of jerking off on his hand, he didn’t last long.

They remained entangled for the longest time, trying to catch their breath back. When he had recovered enough, he slid off her but didn’t move away, feeling the imperative need to touch her as much as he could, to make sure she wouldn’t disappear. There was an urgency to the kisses he pressed on her breasts, to the teasing lick he gave her nipple…

“As much as I would love to, I am not sure we have time for another round…” she hummed. “I do need to make sure you look presentable and I am sure I need to freshen up.” She waved at her – admittedly messed-up – face. “Besides, that horrid Peacekeeper looked like the sort who would enjoy catching us in bed together.”

“Would probably make his day. He’s a stickler for rules.” he snorted, running his palm over her flat stomach. Not to start anything, just to… He couldn’t quite explain it to himself. “Probably hasn’t seen a naked woman since he enrolled. And there’s uglier than you.”

“Why, thank you.” she huffed, playfully bumping his thigh with her leg. “How nice of you to say.”

He muffled his chuckles against her breast and let his mouth trail down, sitting up to get better access. Down her ribcage. Down her stomach. Down her inner thigh to the inside of her knee…

She propped her ankle on his shoulder without a care in the world.

It was a nice view so he nuzzled her calf.

“Have you been working out?” she asked, stretching her arms over her head like a content cat. She left them on the pillow, over her glorious wild mane of blond curls… “You look… Very appealing. So many new muscles…” Her red painted toes nudged his chest – that might or might not have been much firmer, thanks to all the training they had been doing. “So very handsome…”

He didn’t really need the flattery. He had never really been self-conscious because it had never really been difficult for him to catch a girl’s attention. But he accepted the compliments all the same if only because it made him feel… good to know she wanted him.

She was a very shallow woman. He took her for granted most of the times but there were moments… Moments when he found it astonishing that she was still willing to sleep with him.

“You still have the pink thing?” he asked, his attention drifting to more important matters. “You know? The one with all the ribbons…”

As far as lingerie went, that one had been a masterpiece. She had surprised him with it one night a few years back and it had been… a great night. There were a hundred ribbons on that things and to get it off her, he had been forced to solve the puzzle – a challenge he had enjoyed even if his erection had made it more difficult than it should have been – pull on the wrong ribbon and the knots would tighten, making it twice as difficult to get his way with her.

It had been fun. Entirely frustrating for a while but fun. She had enjoyed goading him on by telling him everything she wanted him to do to her – and she could have a dirty, dirty tongue when she wanted to.

“I am not sure. I would need to look for it.” she hesitated. “Or perhaps I could simply buy another one.”

That was tempting but…

“Nah, don’t bother.” he sighed, placing her leg back down on the bed, running his palm on her inner thigh distractedly. “Waste of precious time we can spend actually fucking.”

“Yes…” she sighed right back. “I suppose there won’t be much time for… pleasurable activities. We will have our hands full.”

“I plan on having my hands full of you.” he warned with a snort, settling on top of her again to make his point, dropping lazy kisses on her chest. “May die sober but I’m gonna die very well fucked.”

Her nails abruptly dug in his shoulder. “Do not say things like that. You do not know yet if…”

“Come on.” he scoffed.

And, just like that, the relaxed easy mood was ruined.

Her whole body tensed.

He tried to move but her legs suddenly wrapped around him, her feet pressing at the back of his thighs, trapping him on top of her. He briefly wondered what the kids would have to say about her hand-to-hand combat skills.

He propped himself on his elbows and looked down at her. They would need to have that conversation sooner or later, he figured, might as well have it now, before the whole circus began.

“No matter which name I pick, Peeta is not going back, is he?” she whispered. Her fingers clenched and his shoulder stung so he was pretty sure her nails had drawn blood. He didn’t need to give her a verbal answer. She closed her eyes, taking a sharp breath and then forced such a bright smile on her lips that it must have hurt. “It is alright.” she declared cheerfully. “Of course, it is. You would never do something so reckless without a plan. You always have a plan.”

“The plan’s to save Katniss.” he told her.

“Of course, of course.” she dismissed because it was obvious. “But whatever you have planned, it will save both of you. And, since I know you, it will probably save others as well.”

“Effie…” he winced. “There’s no other plan.”

“Alright, do not tell me.” she huffed. “I will pretend I am very dumb and did not notice all your secret meetings with Cinna. I will pretend I do not have an inkling of what is in the work. I will pretend I believe in accidents that take place right after a Head Gamemaker has dragged me out of a building.” The smile was back once more, its maniac edge almost blinding. “You are right, actually. Do not tell me a thing. I would never intentionally betray you, I hope you know that, but there are sometimes circumstances that…”

“Effie, there’s no other plan.” he repeated. Harsh. “That’s gone.”

She searched his eyes, looking for the lie. Looking for the truth.

“No.” Her voice broke, her denial almost too painful for him to bear.

She quickly turned her head to the side, her breathing fast and labored, her eyes shut tight, her lips pressed hard together.

She was trying not to cry.

He had had two months to come to terms with the idea that he was going to die. It hadn’t been enough for him to completely accept it. However he had been expecting for something to happen ever since the end of the Tour and… It was almost a relief to know what form his demise would take.

And after the last six months… The whipping… The withdrawals… He was tired. He really was tired. He couldn’t see a point in fighting anymore. Not when the odds weren’t fair. Not when they would always lose.

He gently bumped his nose against her cheek. “Come on, Princess… I’m just the drunkard you sleep with once a year. You’ll find…”

“Don’t.” she snapped. “I cannot… I cannot play that game right now. I cannot pretend…” The sob passed her lips unbidden and it killed him. It killed him because she was in pain and it was his fault. “Haymitch, I…”

“I know.” he admitted, kissing her wet cheek. “Come here.”

He rolled off her and pulled her in his arms, one hand cradling the back of her head and the other rubbing up and down her back. She buried her face in his shoulder. She cried in silence. He would have expected a sobbing feast with a lot of theatrics, some screams even… He should have known better.  

She never made a fuss about the important things.

He dropped kisses on the top of her head from time to time but it did little to help.

“Are you certain…” she asked eventually, once she had pulled herself together a little. “Are you certain there is no plan? No hope?”

“We get Katniss out of there.” he replied. “That’s the only plan or hope I have.”

She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against his neck.

“How am I supposed to do this without you?” she whispered.

“Peeta’s a fast learner.” he promised. “Just keep an eye on which sponsor he deals with. And if it comes to making that kind of deal…”

He didn’t need to specify though. She would know. Keep the kids away from that mess as long as possible and if they really needed money that badly… She would do it. He didn’t think he even needed to ask.

“That’s not what I mean.” she hissed. “I mean…”

Her sentence remained incomplete, her voice trailed off.

Life.

She means life, his mind supplied.

“That was never meant to be.” he chided her, a little harder than necessary.

“Does it matter when it was real?” she countered. “I always thought it was just me. I always thought… You said I have made you happy. Last time. You said…”

“I was saying goodbye.” he cut her off.

“Yes, and I kept waiting for something to happen.” she scowled, throwing a possessive leg over his hips. “But nothing did. After Cinna and Portia… I was terrified you… They whipped you. I thought it was over. They whipped you and I thought…”

She reached up to wrap her hand around the side of his neck, pressing her face hard against his shoulder once more.  

“You thought that it was my punishment for whatever it was we’d done.” he finished for her.

“I was furious. I was furious anyone would hurt you that way but I was also… I was relieved.” she confessed against his skin. “You were hurt, yes. But hurt isn’t…”

“Hurt isn’t dead.” he said, tasting the irony.

“I thought there was a plan.” she whispered sadly, resting her cheek on his shoulder. “The Quell… It scared me but I thought there was a plan. I never believed for one second… I… I do not know how to do this.” Her fingers drifted to the scar on his side, her voice breaking again. “I do not know how to accept… How do I lose you? How do I let you go? How do I…”

He pulled her up by the nape, more brutally than was probably necessary.

The kiss was violent but not as much as the way he pushed her on her back, not as much as the way he took her next. She gave as good as she got though. It was all teeth and nails, grips strong enough to bruise and flashing pleasure so raw it was more painful than rewarding.

“We weren’t meant to be.” he panted against her ear, his voice rough.

“You love me a little, don’t you?” she begged. “Tell me you do. Even if it is just a little…”

“Would be easier if it was just a little.” he mumbled.

He wasn’t able to look at her after that. He tore himself from her arms, from the bed, because he was scared he would never get the courage to do it if he didn’t sever contact now. He walked straight to his shower and let icy water pour on him until he was shivering.

It did nothing to numb the burning feelings inside his chest.

When he came back to the bedroom, the bed was made and there was a suit lying there, waiting to be put on. He got dressed slowly. He could hear her moving around downstairs. He wanted to give in to the pretense that this was a familiar thing: him getting dressed upstairs while she did whatever downstairs, making some coffee maybe… It was terrifying to find he wouldn’t have been scared by that domesticity, that a part of it craved it even. He chased the daydream away.

He was wary when he entered the kitchen but he shouldn’t have been.

Effie was back to her usual self, cheerful and flamboyant, painted face and ridiculous wig. Her behavior was even more irritating than usual but he figured she was overcompensating so he let it go. She forced him to sit down so she could trim his hair and he bore it for five minutes. Then he started arguing she was cutting it too short because he liked it long, she snapped that she knew what she was doing – thank you very much, Haymitch – and they were still fighting about it when Peeta showed up with a plate of cheese buns.

Haymitch laughed his ass off when she insisted on using some foundation to hide the dark bags under the boy’s eyes. Peeta protested all his might but when Effie had an idea in mind, there was no deterring her.

Time passed quickly. Too quickly.

Before they knew it, it was time.

He could hear the Peacekeepers marching up the streets to collect them.

“Haymitch.” Peeta said suddenly, unsure and with too much guilt.

“We stick to the plan, kid.” he retorted. “Go get your girl. Remind her she’s supposed to make people want to sponsor her, yeah?”

Peeta’s eyes briefly darted to Effie, who smiled at him as if she had no clue in the world what they were talking about, then he nodded sadly and left through the back door.

“You should go back to the Square.” Haymitch told her, as soon as the kid had disappeared. “No need for you be caught in our walk of shame.”

He had no doubt Thread would make it look very impressive for the rest of the District.

She hesitated but surrendered to his argument, stepping past him. He caught her wrist before she could go very far and slipped the iris shaped ring on a random finger before he could change his mind. He didn’t dare look at her in the eyes.

“Keepsake.” he told her. “It’s not… It’s  not your usual fancy stuff. Was meant for my mother before…” He waved his hand in the air to dismiss his own words. “You don’t have to wear it. You can add it to your music box. Or not. Whatever.”

She was surprised but he couldn’t tell if it was about the ring or the fact that he knew about her box. It had been thirteen years. He knew some things about her. Like the fact she had an old music box that was full of useless mementoes because she was a sentimental fool.

He was probably doing this all wrong.

He wasn’t even sure what he was doing, truth be told.

“It is lovely.” she offered in a strangled voice. She pressed her lips against his in a soft kiss. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing.” he grumbled. “Don’t make a fuss.”

Thread shouted orders in the streets and Haymitch instinctively took a step back, his gaze darting to the corridor behind the kitchen. His shaky hands clenched into fists.

Suddenly it was impossible to breathe. He was torn between the urge to run and the need to take out his knife and…

He couldn’t do this.

He couldn’t…

And then she was there, her arms strong around his neck, her breath hot against the shell of his ear.

“You will do this for the children and I will be very proud of you.” she whispered. “You are doing the right thing. The only thing. So brave and selfless…”

He grunted in protest at that but let out a long deep breath.

“What if I can’t?” he asked in a blank tone. “What if you call Peeta’s name and…”

“I will be there every step of the way.” she promised. “When we are out there, look at me. Only at me. I won’t let you fall. You are not alone. You are never alone.”

Given the noise, the front door must have been knocked down.

He barely had time to push her away from him before Peacekeepers appeared, guns raised. He lifted his hands in a gesture of mock surrender and followed them outside where Peeta and Katniss were already waiting. They were holding hands, he was pleased to notice. Good. It was never too soon to start on selling that.

“I truly do not think this… flare is necessary.” Effie stated coldly, staring Thread down as if he wasn’t a good three inches taller despite her heels. “You can expect me to fill an official complaint with Head Gamemaker Heavensbee. This is a TV show, you realize, all those guns are quite spoiling the atmosphere.”

The Head Peacekeeper sneered at her, obviously not very impressed by her threat. He nodded at one of his men. “Escort Miss Trinket back to the Square.”

“I think not.” Effie retorted petulantly. “I believe I shall like to walk with my victors. It will make for a grand entrance. We are, after all, a team.”

“Effie.” Haymitch warned.

She ignored him to address the Peacekeeper Thread had talked to. “Be a dear and grab my case, will you? Thank you.” It wasn’t until they were walking, a few steps behind the children, the four of them framed between two squads of Peacekeepers, that she answered him, low enough not to be overheard. “You are not the only one who can take a stand.”

“Don’t be reckless.” he rebuked.

She barely blinked.

“I am just as gifted at this game as you are.” she reminded him. “I know up to which point I can push and I know when to fold. You do not need to worry about me.”

“Sure, ‘cause you make it so easy not to.” he mumbled.

[faceted-tourmaline]

Wearing the Spots

(ao3, ff)

Summary:  What's worse than the love of your life catching you wearing fan merchandise? Oh, right, getting dragged halfway across Paris in said merch while she's saving your life.

(based on some prompts with @fuckingchatnoir​, hope you like it!!!)

enjoy whatever this is!

Adrien ripped apart the packaging excitedly, with Plagg hovering exasperatedly over one shoulder.

'It's here, It's here, It's here, It's here, It's here!'

'I can't believe you're making such a fuss about this.' Plagg shook his head. 'Scratch that, I can't believe you actually bought the thing in the first place.'

'Well, I wasn't exactly going to buy the Chat Noir one, was I?' Adrien shot back as he attempted, mostly unsuccessfully, to pry off a long piece of packaging tape. 'Damn it, you'd think that this thing would actually be accessible?' He stuffed the package under his arm and raced over to his desk, leaving Plagg to trail lazily behind.

'The mighty superhero Chat Noir, thousands of years old and hero the world over; finally brought to his knees.' Plagg said, with the most dramatic voice he could manage. 'By sticky tape.'

'Not just sticky tape, Plagg,' Adrien shot him a dirty look as he rifled through his top drawer. 'Packaging tape. That stuff's way harder.'

'Because that's so much better.'

'It is, actually?' Adrien returned his attention to the drawer, and shortly produced a pair of short handled scissors.

He sighed. 'I feel like it's cheating.'

'I'm not letting you cataclysm the wrapping.' Plagg said sternly, then trailing back over as Adrien dashed back over to his bed, where he had originally found the backage.

'I wouldn't-!' Adrien exclaimed, but then visibly considered it.

'I said no.'

'Fine, fine,' He sat back down, and with the care of any of the designers that his father employed, carefully sliced the top of the package open. 'You have to admit that it would be cool.'

'Cool, and excessive. What if you accidentally destroyed what was inside? You'd be stuck drooling at the door for another whole week waiting for a replacement.'

'I wasn't drooling.'

'Yes you were.'

Adrien stuck his tongue out at the kwami, and pulled forth from the package a sizeable amount of red fabric.

'Are you sure it's the right size?' Plagg eyed off the fabric that Adrien shook out, revealing it to be a large, red-and-black-spotted hoodie.

'I ordered one size too big, considering I won't be leaving this room with it.' He pulled it over his head, not caring about it mussing his hair. 'Maximum comfort.'

'It looks ridiculous.'

Adrien pulled his head through, and rain his fingers through his hair to get the loosened strands out of his eyes. 'It feels amazing. Maybe I should consider getting the Chat Noir one as well?'

'Why? You have that one?' Plagg landed on the corner of his bed lazily, looking up at the boy.

'Because consider this; two amazing hoodies.' Adrien leapt to his feet and raced over to the windows, examining his new purchase in the reflection.

'I can't believe you spent all week so excited about this. Do you know how much that thing cost?'

'Yes?' Adrien replied, a hint of uncertainty in his voice, but he shrugged.

'It was overpriced. And that's saying something, coming from me.'

'I wanted good quality!'

'Even good quality shouldn't have that many zeros in the price tag.'

Adrien again shrugged, before fiddling with the zip. 'Can you imagine how jealous Alya's going to be? She was drooling over this at least half as much as I was.'

'Maybe she'll get you to model it for the blog?'

Usually the prospect of modelling bore zero excitement for the boy, but this particular idea held a tempting amount of interest.

He shook his head. 'This room only. My father would kill me.'

'You seem to be under the impression your father is a supervillan.' Plagg said dryly. 'You do realize he can't actually murder you?'

'Have you seen the glares he can give? That's got to have outright murdered at least three people by now.'

Plagg conceded the point, before glancing up.

In a flash, he disappeared into Adrien's hoodie pocket, before moving around contentedly.

'Alright, alright.' He said reluctantly. 'You can keep this monstrosity.'

'I told you so.' Adrien grinned, looking back to survey his room in general with a newfound comfort. 'This is going to be great to do homework in.'

He ambled back over towards his desk, but was halted by an urgent tapping against his window.

He span, the grin fading from his face, to see the exact person he last expected to see at this time in the afternoon.

He raced back over to the window, his previous thoughts fading at the anxious expression from her face.

'Ladybug?' He questioned upon throwing the window open, a light, early evening breeze tickling her hair and catching his clothes.

'You need to come with me. Right now.' She said.

His heart was already in her extended hand, eager and ready to follow her into the sunset.

'W-what? Why?' He questioned, moving towards her without hesitation.

'I'll explain it to you later. Just,' She proffed her fingers a little more, and he nodded.

'Ok.' Switching on Chat Noir mode, he brushed past her hand and knotted his arms carefully around her neck, attempting to ignore how much he could feel he was turning red.

Ladybug let out a tiny startled noise before adjusting to the new situation, wrapping her free hand carefully around the small of his back, before they were flying.

In three short swings they were well away from the building, but it was the longest swings of Adrien's life.

Sure, he had every confidence in her and her abilities, but that didn't stop his heart from seizing in panic whenever they were at the lowest point of their swing, or when she had unhooked from one point in order to swing for the next.

However he did survive, and they eventually landed lightly atop the roof of a cafe some two streets away.

It took him a moment to unclasp himself, and he carefully patted the solid ground before he could collapse, his knees shaking slightly.

'Are you alright?' Ladybug questioned with concern, crouching before him.

'I'm fine.' He said, slightly unconvincingly. He rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck. 'I can't say I'm used to flying like that.' He smiled half-heartedly, before flushing a deepest red. "Like that"? What the hell, me? Why don't you just tell her you're Chat while you're at it!

'Don't worry.' She said soothingly. 'At least you didn't throw up.'

He glanced at her. 'Have people done that?'

'One or two. They were very embarrassed.' She said awkwardly, flushing slightly.

He glanced back in the direction of his home.

'So, why the joyride?'

She flushed a little more, but then grew serious. She pulled out her yoyo, and flipped it open to the screen. 'Your house has been officially evacuated. The fire department should be getting in there now.'

He paled. 'What? Why?' He stood. 'What happened?'

'One of the maintenance men reported a gas leak. He said it had spread through a large portion of the house, and called an emergency.' She glanced at the screen. 'Your father seems to think it was premeditated.'

'Is he okay?' He said anxiously.

'Yes, he has been moved to Le Grande Paris, where he is conducting operations. She typed briefly into the yoyo. 'He knows you're safe now.'

'But, but,' He looked back towards her. 'Why would someone do something like that?'

'That's not our concern right now. What matters most is your safety.'

He sat back down heavily. 'Right.'

She looked at him for a long moment, before flushing. 'N-nice outfit.'

'Oh?' He said distractedly, before looking down at himself.

It was then that Adrien Agreste wanted to jump off of the building.

He was still wearing the hoodie.

'Oh.' Shit.

'I-I didn't know you were such a fan?' She offered lamely.

He found himself trying to cover himself, but how on earth was he supposed to pass off something like this?

He had a sudden impulse to rip it over his head, but then equally as suddenly remembered the white shirt that he wore underneath with Ladybug's actual face on it. Nope, that was definitely worse.

'I-I'm sorry?' He offered instead.

She flushed slightly. 'N-no!' She flapped at him. 'I'm flattered!' She flushed harder. 'Thank you.'

He chuckled awkwardly, but found himself unable to reply further.

Ladybug checked her yoyo, before standing. 'W-we can go to your father? If you want?'

He inadvertently reached towards her, before blushing madly at the extended hand. 'N-no! I-I-I mean,' he willed it to drop as she looked at him. 'As long as he's safe, it doesn't matter.' He covered. He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but did not.

She waited for a moment for him to speak, but then when nothing came she sat back down, drawing her knees under her. 'Are you sure?'

He nodded, before changing the subject. 'Where's Chat Noir? With my father?'

'I don't know.' She admitted, a touch of concern in her tone. 'But I would imagine so. He would have gotten the message as soon as I did.'

Adrien thought guiltily of his phone sitting, on silent, on his bed back at his home.

'I suppose so.' He looked sideways at her. 'So, what's Chat Noir like?' He hastened for an excuse. 'I've never met him before.' Well, it would be hard to shake hands with yourself.

A knowing smile graced her lips. 'He's reliable. And caring.' She looked out towards the horizon. 'I don't know what I'd do without him.'

Adrien found himself flushing further.

She glanced sideways at him, before flushing and flapping a hand at him. 'I don't know why I'm telling you this,'

'It's fine.' He smiled, and she settled. 'It's always amazing seeing you fly through the sky.'

'I-I mean, I can't exactly fly, precisely,' she waved her yoyo at him, and he flushed again.

'S-sorry! That's what I meant.' He tried to laugh, but it only came out as a nervous squeak.

Pull yourself together, you're Chat freaking Noir! Adrien mentally slapped himself.

He looked up at her to say something else, unsure what precisely, but it did not matter for Ladybug threw herself at him, shoving and rolling him out of the way as it seemed as if the building exploded.

'Adrien! Are you okay?' She exclaimed, looking over the boy, before scooping him up in two small arms quickly and leaping them both the next building over.

Adrien was at a loss for words as who was obviously an akuma gazed over at them frustratedly, having appeared only a split second beforehand.

Ladybug landed lightly, depositing the boy gently, before spinning on her heel to face the akuma with a snarl.

'Who are you!? What do you want!?' Ladybug shouted over.

Adrien peered around her (well-toned) calves at the man, who was dressed in predominately orange spandex. It would have made for a comical look, had he not been wielding a pair of scissors opened to their fullest, the sharpened metal glinting in the bright sunlight.

'I'm here for him!' He pointed dramatically at Adrien, who flinched slightly. 'My name is Coupe! And it he who has ruined my livelihood!'

Ladybug spared no glance for the boy behind her, and held firm. 'What on earth are you talking about?'

Adrien wanted to ask precisely the same question. He'd never seen this man before in his life, and didn't make it a habit of ruining lives.

'I don't want to talk about it with the likes of you!' Coupe snapped, rushing them.

That's funny, because most do, Adrien was itching to burst back with, but the inner Chat Noir was swiftly dispelled as he dove to one side, automatically following Ladybug down the slope of the roof.

However, where Chat's feet would have caught, Adrien's slipped and stumbled, sending him further careening down towards the lip before Ladybug could catch him.

'Be careful,' she scolded half-heartedly. 'You're not a superhero.'

Adrien half wanted to facepalm, but too much of him was internally swooning at being caught and scolded at the hands of his lady.

'Get back here!' Coupe shouted, but Adrien already had his arms around Ladybug's neck as they disappeared over the edge of the building.

Ladybug was pacing, her opened yoyo pressed to her ear.

'Come on, come on,' she muttered, and Adrien could only watch her.

They were tucked away in a quiet alley that he didn't recognise, but it didn't matter.

Anywhere would be safe as long as they stuck together.

But it would be a whole lot more convenient if he could suit up.

At present he was standing with his hands in his pockets, one clasping Plagg to remind him to not make a sound, seeing as Ladybug attempted to make connection to update his father with the situation.

But she was just so mesmerising, and it was perfectly ok for him to be watching in awe.

He was a hapless civilian, after all.

She also didn't seem to mind nearly if he looked at her, even though he wasn't supposed to know her very well. This brought forth a question, was Ladybug familiar with Adrien Agreste? Did she know him? She was almost quite, friendly?

Although, she was like that with most victims of an akuma, and even the akumas themselves.

She really was just so caring.

'Finally!' Ladybug exclaimed, before staring pointedly into the middle ground. 'Yes? Hello? Nathalie Sancouer?'

She started pacing as she updated the woman with the situation, but then suddenly froze with a slightly panicked expression on her face and straightening suddenly. 'M Agreste! Hello!'

Adrien flinched slightly in sympathy, but could only watch with a slight smile as she animatedly flailed slightly.

That's what it was, she was much more animated than usual.

Not that normal Ladybug wasn't animated, it was more like she had come to life even moreso today.

And it was obvious that she had completely forgotten he was looking at her, for her relaxed stance and unreserved nature shone straight through.

He couldn't help but sigh, and poke Plagg for he knew the kwami would have made a disguised noise.

'No!' Ladybug exclaimed, pulling him out of his daze. 'I mean, no, that won't be necessary. I can handle this.-' She made a sharp intake of breath as she heard his answer, and she cut across him. 'You've seen what akumas can be like. I'm sure Chat Noir is out there now helping in any way that he can. We can handle this.' And with a snap she hung up on him, with the absolute confidence that only Ladybug could have.

And then she stared at her yoyo in absolute horror.

'What have I done?' She nearly whispered, her eyes wide.

'Is something the matter?' Adrien questioned, finally speaking up.

'I just hung up on Gabriel Ag-ohymygodIforgotyouwerethere-' she flailed, taking a full step backwards in complete panic.

He stepped after her, laying what was a hopefully calming hand on her forearm, but it just seemed to make her flushing worse.

Adrien retracted it quickly and worriedly, but she flapped at him, struggling for words for a long moment.

'No!' She managed eventually, 'No, it's not you. I promise. I just need Chat. He's the level-headed one out of the two of us.'

Adrien stared at her for a moment, before hastening to scrape his jaw off the ground. She was the one who always came up with the plans!

'But, I thought that you were the one who,' he started, and she shook her head.

'Even when I'm freaking out Chat Noir is the cool cat.' She shook her head. 'I can't believe I just said that.'

Adrien very nearly fainted right there on the concrete.

A compliment and a pun? Good lord, he needed to marry this girl immediately.

She took a few calming breaths and pressed her hands to her temples for a long moment, but Adrien knew that face.

She was trying to figure out their next move.

But reluctantly, he had a burning question.

'D-do you think that Coupe is going to go after my father?'

Ladybug looked up at him suddenly, but her blue eyes were calmer.

'No. I have his assistant keeping me in the loop of his every movement, and Coupe has not gone for your father at all. Rather, he's focusing on you, for some reason.' She paused. 'Do you have any idea why that could be?' She questioned gently.

He shook his head, frowning slightly. 'None.' He looked up at her with a slight smile. 'I'm not Papillion.'

'Maybe we should ask Coupe?' He suggested.

'It's too dangerous for you to be anywhere near him.' She pulled a resolute face. 'And I don't want to leave you alone in case he comes for you.'

I don't want to leave you alone, I don't want to leave you alone,

Zut alors he had it bad.

'Ok, well, what if we caught him first?'

Ladybug gave him a pointed look and he blushed. 'You. What if you caught him first?'

'What do you mean?'

'Well, if w-you trap him, then we could ask him then?'

'That's, actually a pretty good idea.' She rubbed her chin thoughtfully, and he swelled a little in pride. 'We could find Chat Noir's sorry butt and get him to help, and we could overwhelm him. Find the cursed object while we're at it.' She clapped her hands together decisively. 'Right.' She looked up at Adrien's anxious face. 'Is everything alright?'

'No, yeah, I'm fine. I'm sure we can catch up with Chat Noir somewhere.' He laughed nervously, and Plagg twisted slightly in his pocket. 'In the meantime, how can we go about this plan?'

Coupe wandered the streets, hunting for any sign of that ridiculous Agreste boy.

Any poster he had found, any magazine thus far had ended the same way; shredded like wet tissue paper against his twin blades.

He stalked the road irritably, Papillon was in his ear again about going after Ladybug and Chat Noir.

But, he conceded, that since it seemed like Adrien and Ladybug were in close proximity, that killing two birds with one stone was fine.

His wanderings took him to the Arc de Triumphe, where in a few short bounds he leapt to the top to peer over the surrounding area.

But after a moment, he realised he wasn't alone.

With a sharp spin he sent his blades spinning in the direction of the newcomer, and they thudded down heavily into the roof of the gate as the person easily sidestepped them.

'If you're looking for Adrien Agreste, you'd better head to ground level.' Said the superhero.

'Chat Noir!' Exclaimed Coupe, startled. 'What do you mean?'

'I heard Ladybug stashed him down on the ground floor. Or in the entrance.' Chat shrugged easily. 'Why are you after him so bad anyway?'

'Because that little monster ruined me!'

Chat stared blankly at him for a moment, before catching up. 'You said that already, why's he so bad? I thought he was a good kid?'

Coupe shook his head roughly. He moved forward as if to go for his scissors, but Chat stood solidly in front of them. 'I'm one of the designers at Gabriel. But that little prima-donna always hated my designs! He refused to wear them! Ever!'

'...have you ever actually met him before?' Chat questioned hesitantly.

'Well, no, but! Even if he did deign himself to put something on he always, always ruined it!'

'How?'

'Because he was always so damn small! And the tailors would butcher my designs!' Coupe made a further movement to reach for his scissors, but Chat raised a halting hand.

'So, you're saying that because your designs weren't making the cut to be advertised, you became,' he gestured to the akuma in general, before looking at him. 'You realize that models don't actually get a choice in what they wear? Right? They just wear it, depending on what the director or what their contract stipulates.'

Coupe shifted uncomfortably.

'You're a designer at Gabriel and you seriously never knew that?' Chat stared at him openly, and Coupe flushed angrily. 'That's got to be the lamest reason for getting akumatised. Fashion's a hard, cutthroat industry. Even I know that.' Chat shook his head. 'I thought you of all people would know that too.'

'S-shut up! I'll get you!' He exclaimed, diving for the weapons, but Chat leapt into a perfect single handstand and disappeared over the edge and out of sight.

'What are you doing!?' Came a hushed voice just as Adrien's hand landed back on the closet door from which he had once emerged from.

He very nearly leapt out of his skin, and then once again when a hand landed over his mouth to cut of his startled yelp.

'I thought I told you to stay hidden!' Ladybug reprimanded him, pushing him up against the door as if with the intention of causing him to melt through it to safety. 'This won't work with you running around, it's not safe!'

Adrien hung his head as she released his face. 'Sorry, I just,' he felt bad for lying, he really did, 'I wanted to see you set up the plan.' But it was also true, he loved seeing his lady put together a masterpiece out of nothing.

'W-well it's just lucky that I caught you before you got anywhere.' Ladybug said, blushing awkwardly. 'Just, don't do it again, ok? I need to know that you're safe.' She added in a tone so soft he had to brace himself against the door in order to not turn into a puddle on the floor.

He was so, so screwed.

'I won't,' he acknowledged, almost with a sigh, effectively cutting off her attempt at backpeddaling. He straightened slightly, putting his hand on the door handle. 'I should, get back to hiding.' He had half a mind to take her with him, akuma be damned.

'R-right.' She had half a look like she'd let him.

Coupe landed lightly, eyeing his scenery carefully and raising his blades.

But, the scene was empty, barring a few tourists scurrying away.

'Where are you!?' He called, but received no answer.

Papillon appeared in his ear, urging him forward to where Ladybug was, but Coupe shook his head. 'I know, I know, I'm not stupid.'

Papillon hesitated a little to long before agreeing with him, but noted the possibility of a trap.

Coupe moved over to one of the underground entrances with care, and paused at the archway.

'I know you're in there! Hand him over, and your Miraculouses, and no one gets hurt!' His voice echoed slightly, giving it an appropriately menacing effect in his opinion.

A moment, before,

'Come and get me!'

Coupe screwed his face up, before stepping hesitantly inside.

But the trap was sprung, and Ladybug's yoyo sprang up to meet him.

He deflected it easily, racing forward now. 'I'm coming in!'

Ladybug sprung up to meet him, immediately meeting him hand to hand and unbreakable string to blades.

They exchanged a few blows before Coupe looked around. 'Where's Chat Noir?'

Ladybug leapt back. 'You've seen him?'

'He told me where you were hiding, and I know where the Agreste boy is!' Coupe nearly shrieked with rage.

'Well I'm glad he's actually shown up for work.' Ladybug smiled grimly, before stepping forward to attack once again. 'And here I thought I was going to have to do this all by myself.'

Coupe grew increasingly angry as he was severely outclassed as a fighter, but made up for it in brute strength, often pushing Ladybug backwards and further down the corridor.

'Why don't you just give up, Ladybug? Hand over your Miraculous and no one gets hurt.' Coupe pointed out, actively picking her up from a slightly too extended hand. He grinned menacingly, as Ladybug let the yoyo fall back into her free hand.

'I-'

'Ladybug!' Came a panicked exclamation from around a nearby corner, before a tiny 'eep!'

'Chat?' Ladybug called out, as both she and Coupe twisted to search the area. 'Is that you?'

Coupe started striding towards a nearby corner suddenly, dragging Ladybug along with him. 'No, I'd recognise that blonde hair anywhere.' He said with a grin.

Ladybug visibly paled, before glaring up at the taller man. With a spectacular arm roll she broke free of his grip, before skidding straight into his path between him and the corner. 'Stop right there!'

'Move out of the way!' Coupe demanded.

'Never!' Ladybug loosened her yoyo and span it in a tight circle menacingly. 'You'll never get through me!'

Coupe rushed her, breaking into a sprint from his first step, but Ladybug used his momentum by twisting and hip throwing him straight into the opposing wall, where Coupe landed with a groan.

'I said, you'll never get through me!' Ladybug said with venom, but once Coupe stood once again he was undeterred.

'You're just not up to cut!' Coupe responded, and rushed her again, but this time she simply flung her yoyo, where it caught around his foot and sent him absolutely flying around the corner with the momentum and centrifugal force that she held over him, where he landed upside down against the wall behind her.

It took him a moment to realise that he wasn't falling.

It took him another moment to realise that Adrien Agreste had appeared to stand in front of him.

It had taken him a few moments to register all of this, as it was hard to notice things from the stars that had appeared in his vision.

'What kind of a pun is up to cut?' Adrien chided quietly, as Ladybug appeared around the corner, winding back up her yoyo absently, with eyes for no one but Coupe.

Coupe tried to look around, to assess his situation, but all it felt like was that he was stuck to the wall with-

'Flypaper,' Ladybug said, eyeing it appreciatively. 'Finally, Lucky Charm gives me something straightforward.'

Coupe flung an insult at her, but the paper was inescapable. He acknowledged this with a snarl, but noticed something.

'You aren't going anywhere.' Ladybug said. 'Now tell us where your cursed object is and we'll let you go.'

'Piss off.' Coupe snapped, and flung his scissors at the superhero with the hand that had just managed to miss the paper.

But the Agreste boy had reacted quicker, nearly leaping sideways at the girl to push her out of the way, the scissors embedding themselves in the concrete right where she had stood.

They landed in a tumble, out of Coupe's immediate sight, but their voices were obvious.

'Are you alright!?' He said with a half panicked tone.

'I-I'm fine,' she replied, obviously flustered. 'Thank you,'

Coupe rolled his eyes, especially at the awkward silence that followed.

'Uh, you should probably get off of me.' She hesitantly pointed out after a heated moment, the reluctance in her voice clear.

The sounds of sudden movement, and Agreste suddenly appeared back in his line of sight, hastily brushing himself off. 'S-s-sorry!' He exclaimed, only pausing to back off when he nearly walked into Coupe's blades.

'Be careful!' Ladybug appeared as well, pulling him forward away from the razor edges.

Coupe let out an audible exasperated sigh, causing the two of them to startle slightly. 'Can we move on from the romantic comedy drama? That or just put me out of my misery.'

'R-right.' Ladybug said, and started patting the akuma down for his object.

They landed lightly atop Le Grande Paris, and did not let go from each other immediately.

'Thank you for coming to my rescue, I don't know what I would have done without you,' Adrien said with a toothy grin, forgetting that his hands were still on her waist.

'I-it's fine, any time for a citizen in need,' she managed, hyperaware of her crush's hands on her waist. 'I mean, you're more than just a citizen, but, I mean,' she backpeddled, but he interjected.

'I really appreciate it.' He said, in the most heartfelt manner he could muster. But frankly, it wasn't that hard to draw up. 'You saved my life.'

Ladybug was a downright gibbering mess at that, and no amount of superhero could hide it.

'I'll, see you later?' He said reluctantly, aware of the fact that there was an entire legion of people downstairs expecting to see him. He released her and took a step back, before turning away with a heavy heart.

He had taken a few steps before he heard her speak up.

'Wait!'

He turned back to look at her, but she had flown over and now clasped his face with both hands.

'What're you-'

She kissed him, full on the mouth, without any sort of hesitation, like she had willed herself up to doing it, but he had no complaints. None whatsoever.

He was honestly too shocked to do much else outside of hold her for the eternity that she held him, before she eventually pulled back.

Adrien struggled to formulate something coherent, be it thought or word, but she was already heading out towards the edge of the building.

He raised a hand to try to stop her, and as if in response she paused at the lip of the roof.

'I'll, see you later,' she managed, like she was trying to not sound strangled or lovesick, before disappearing.

Adrien could only stand there and stare, before the door to the roof opened behind him.

'Adrien, there you are,' came Natalie's voice, 'your father is waiting for you downstairs. Are you alright?' She approached him carefully, and landed a hand on his shoulder in a slightly comforting way.

'I, yup, good,' he stammered, allowing the woman to pull him back under cover.

'We have all been very worried about you.' She said detachedly. 'There were reports of the akuma all over the city. CCTV caught them breaking into the mansion this morning to set off the gas. You were very lucky that Ladybug was with you.'

Adrien wasn't keeping up with the influx of information at all, and was feeling rather dazed.

Natalie was unnoticing at his odd behaviour as she checked her tablet while they headed down the stairs towards the nearest available elevator. 'I understand that she was able to capture and handle the akuma. I also understand that surprisingly little overall damage was caused to the city. She also made it quite clear that you were safe the entire time, and always obeyed her complete instructions in the matter of capturing the akuma.'

They reached the shiny golden doors and Natalie pushed the down button with grace.

For the first time she properly eyed off Adrien's outward appearance, and beyond his windswept hair she had no comment, until-

'Why are you wearing such smeared red lipstick?'

Adrien returned to his senses enough to scrub at his face with the back of his hand, replying with an excuse about the capturing of the akuma that Natalie seemed to reluctantly accept.

But his mind went back to the girl who had disappeared into the distance.

I'll see you later,

Adrien was so, so in love. He was definitely going to have to marry the heck out of her.

'Also,' Natalie cut through is thoughts, 'what in the name of god are you wearing?'

Adrien looked down at himself, and nothing cut through his love-filled haze like the red and black spots that seemed to gaze judgingly back.

And he couldn't take it off, due to the actual face underneath.

His father was downstairs.

So was all of the reporters of Paris.

So was probably all of Paris.

This death would not be swift at the hands of his father.

But he had to admit,

Nothing could take that kiss away from him.

So at least he'd die happy.