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lastbluetardis · 1 year ago

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Sacred New Beginnings (19/?)

Summary: James Noble thought he traded away his chance at love and a happy-ever-after when he signed a contract with a record label that turned him into an international celebrity. But a chance meeting in a dive bar may prove him wrong. Ten x Rose AU This Chapter: Explicit, ~5000 words AO3 || Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 | Ch12 | Ch13 | Ch14 | Ch15 | Ch16 | Ch17 | Ch18 |

James can hardly hear past the roar of his pulse in his ears as he is the sole focus of Jackie Tyler’s—(Jackie Peters’s? He’ll have to ask Rose what last name her mum has)—ire. Gone is the cheerful grin he’d seen in the photos Rose had sent of herself and her mother on holiday in Barcelona; now that joy is replaced with the sort of rage only a mother is capable of.

He throws a desperate glance at the other adult in the room, but Tyler Peters is stunned into silence, his eyes locked on James as though he’d never seen a human being before.

Absurdly, this is what unfreezes James, and he throws out a stupid little, “Hello. I’m James Noble. Pleasure.”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve showin’ up here,” Jackie spits, stalking ever-closer. James regrets that he didn’t use the last two seconds to free himself from his position of being backed against the countertop. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“Mummy! Daddy!”

Jackie whirls around to face the corridor at the sound of a tiny voice and pitter-patter of feet. She automatically crouches, and Tony gallops headlong into his mother’s waiting arms. She scoops him up and peppers kisses across his fair skin.

“Did you have a good night with sissy?” Jacke coos, stroking his hair away from his face. “She didn’t feed you any ice cream, did she?”

“Yeah! An’ made hotdogs and cheesy ‘tatoes, then we played Jus’ Dance, an’ James was there!”

“Oh?” Jackie asks, flashing James a withering glare. “When did he get here?”

“Yeah, he’s so fun!” Tony squeals, pivoting in his mother’s arms to beam at James. “He’s my fav’rite.”

Rose finally emerges from down the hall, her cheeks stained scarlet as she squeaks, “Hi, Mum. I expected you to text when you got here.”

“Oh, so you could hide this one somewhere?” Jackie scowls, gesturing to James.

“I… I wanted… I was gonna tell you…”

“What, that you let ‘im come weaslin’ back into your life? Did he come up with a sob story? Made it real convincin’, did he?”

“Jacks,” Tyler says quietly, inclining his head slightly towards Tony, who is still ensconced in his mother’s arms and watching the exchange curiously. “Let’s save it, eh?

Jackie purses her lips, then presses them to her son’s temple before handing the child to his father. “Take him outside, yeah? Meet you downstairs.”

“Five minutes,” Tyler warns. “This one needs to get to bed.” To his son, he chirps, “Say bye to sissy!”

“Bye-bye sissy! Gimme hugs and kisses!”

Rose tiptoes around her mother, not sparing her a glance as she scoops her little brother into her arms and gives him a couple of big twirls around the room.

“Spinny hug, spinny hug!” Tony screeches, clinging to Rose for dear life.

The sight makes something hollow ache in the pit of James’s gut. The siblings clearly adore each other, and Rose is so good with him.

“Bye-bye James!” Small hands tap his legs, and he realizes Tony is gesturing for a hug. He hesitates for only a fraction, but he can’t say no to those big brown eyes.

“G’night Tony,” he whispers, kneeling for a brief embrace. “Thanks for playing with me tonight.”

“All right, little man, wanna see who can race down the stairs fastest?” Tyler asks his son, ruffling Tony’s fair blond hair.

“Yeah! Onetwothreego!”

Tony bolts out of the flat, giggling madly, leaving his father to leisurely stroll behind him. Before Tyler closes the door behind him, he spins and says, “Good night, Rosie.”

“Night,” she mumbles, looking increasingly uncomfortable at the prospect of being left alone with her mother.

James nearly fumbles out an excuse to leave, but realizes that would be the most cowardly thing he’d ever done, and Rose deserves better than that. So he pulls on his big boy pants and turns to face the music.

Before he can speak, Jackie turns on Rose and throws her arms up into the air. “What are you thinking?! Have you gone mental?!”

“Mum, please just…”

“Whatever happened to “I deserve better than bein’ the latest in a long line”? I thought you were over bein’ a good time for someone who would drop you in a heartbeat for someone younger and smarter and prettier?”

Rose flinches from her mother, and James takes an automatic step towards her, reaching across the space between them.

“It’s not… it’s not like that,” Rose says weakly. “I got it wrong.”

“Oh, did you? ‘Cos from where I’m sittin’, it’s bloody obvious what’s going on here. Mister Handsome Rich Rockstar has swindled you again, tellin’ you whatever it is you want to hear so he can keep you ‘til he’s done with you.”

“Er, I’m not technically a rockstar,” James blurts, and he can hardly believe what has just come out of his mouth. But he can’t stop. It’s like his brain has ceased all higher function and his mouth has taken over. “More folk-pop. Indy, maybe? Soft pop?”

“Oh, shut up,” Jackie snaps, turning to him with fire in her eyes.

He clacks his teeth together and nods, stuffing his hands into his pockets in an attempt to make himself seem as small as possible, which is quite the impossible feat, considering his height.

“You! You need to get the hell away from my daughter if you know what’s good for you. You men, you’re all the same, taking what you want, thinkin’ you’re entitled to get your way, lyin’ through your bleedin’ teeth to get what you want. Well I won’t stand for it! My Rose deserves better. She isn’t a girl you can shag and drop the moment someone else comes along.”

“I… I know,” James stammers, his mouth impossibly dry and his stomach roiling in discomfort.

“Oh, do you?” Jackie remarks, false surprise lifting her face. “You had no problem tellin’ the entire bloody world you were just havin’ a bit of fun. ‘Cos that’s all you really want, isn’t it? Fun and a place to wet your cock…”

“Mum! Enough!” Rose shouts, red-faced and near-tears. “I was wrong. We’d both misunderstood each other. But we’re together now. Properly.”

“That’s what he told you, didn’t he? Bet he sounded real sorry too. Bet he said all the right words, didn’t he?”

James’s heart falls when he sees Rose flinch and drop her gaze to her feet.

“That’s enough,” he says quietly. “Say whatever you want about me, but Rose is smart enough to make her own decisions about her life, no matter what you believe. Yes, when Rose and I first started seeing each other, we each thought it was something casual. And I was an idiot for what I told the reporters. But things are different now. I want what’s best for her.”

Jackie grunts dismissively. “You say that now, but the moment she gives you a bit of bad press, you’re going to spin whatever little tale you need to tell to get the public on your side, and my Rose is gonna be the one who gets smeared through the muck.”

“I wouldn’t…”

“Mum, please,” Rose whispers. “I know I have an awful track record with boyfriends, but those are my mistakes to make. Maybe James will be a mistake, maybe he won’t be, but you have to let me live my life the way I choose to. And right now, I choose him.”

Jackie softens a fraction as she turns to her daughter. It’s as though with him out of sight, the gentle mother returns. She reaches to Rose and cradles her jaw, stroking her cheeks as she says, “My Rose. I will always want the best for you. It killed me to see you in such a state on holiday. I don’t want to see you be taken advantage of. Is it money? Sweetheart, you know me and your dad will help you out, you don’t need to stay with him for that.”

James is slightly offended that Jackie thinks he’s paying Rose to hang out with him or paying her for sex, but before he can think of a response, Rose covers her mother’s hands and leans into the touch.

“It’s not money,” she assures. “He’s not paying for anything of mine.”

“He bloody well should—he’s rich! You better not be payin’ for your dates!”

Rose lets out a sniffly giggle and throws her arms around her mother, who holds her tightly and rocks her from side to side. James wonders if he should sneak out while they’re distracted, but he finds he’s rooted to the spot, trying to wrap his head around the last few minutes.

“Please be safe, sweetheart,” Jackie whispers. “Please.”

“I am safe, Mum. And I wish you’d believe me when I say I’m happy. Really happy.”

“I believe that you believe it,” Jackie says, pulling back just far enough to kiss Rose’s forehead. “Remember that I’m here for you the moment you need me. Don’t you ever think you can’t come home to your old mum.”

Rose nods wordlessly.

The fight seems to have left Jackie, but she turns to him and says, “Don’t you dare hurt her, or mess her over.”

“I– I won’t,” he vows.

Jackie narrows her eyes, scanning him up and down, but doesn’t say anything else. She turns away from him and back to Rose. “I gotta go. It’s way past Tony’s bedtime. Thanks for watchin’ him.”

“Of course. I love spending time with him,” Rose says, guiding her mother to the door.

“I love you. More than anything.”

“Love you too. Drive safe.”

Jackie kisses both of Rose’s cheeks and doesn’t even look James’s way as she sweeps out of the flat.

oOoOo

Downstairs in the foyer, Tyler Peters is desperately trying to occupy his definitely-tired-but-pretending-he’s-not-tired four-year-old, and it’s going about as well as one could hope. Tony is racing laps around the room, skillfully dodging the amused (and mercifully tolerant) tenants of the building who are simply trying to enter or exit the building.

“Watch it, mate,” he calls when Tony nearly barrels into the little old lady who has lived in this building for decades. She is one of the few residents who already leased a flat here before Tyler became the owner of the building. “So sorry Mrs. Donovan.”

“Oh, my grandsons have just as much energy,” the old woman says cheerfully, smiling down at Tony. “These bones may be old, but they’re sturdier than they look.”

“Hi!” Tony chirps, flashing a toothy smile. “Bye!”

And so the laps continue.

And continue…

Tyler sighs and checks his watch. He should’ve known Jackie couldn’t keep it to five minutes. It’s nearing on fifteen, and he’s about to corral his son so they can go fetch her when the lift dings and Jackie steps out, her eyes sparking and her jaw locked.

“Mummy!” Tony sprints over and takes her hand. “Time to go!”

Tyler joins his family and takes his wife’s free hand, rubbing his thumb along the back of hers.

“Chat go all right?” he asks quietly.

“I don’t know what the hell she’s thinking,” Jackie grumbles. “I mean… James bloody Noble?! It was bad enough to hear my daughter was havin’ a lark with that… that… scoundrel in the first place. But now she’s taken him back? Stupid. Irresponsible.”

Tyler bites back a smirk and knocks his elbow into her ribs. “Put yourself in her shoes, eh? When you were her age, you can’t tell me that you wouldn’t have bedded Bono if he’d shown the slightest bit of interest in you?”

“It’s not the same!” she complains. “Bono never would’ve…”

“And Rose likely thought James Noble never would’ve,” he says simply. “You know I love her dearly and that I want the best for her, but Rose seems happy right now. Will it last? Probably not. But let her have this, eh? How many people can say they dated a famous singer in their youth? It’ll be a story for the grandkids and great-grandkids.”

His wife huffs out another impatient breath, but doesn’t argue further. “Yeah. Maybe. But still. James bloody Noble. I just hope Rose knows what she’s doing, datin’ that man…”

Tyler wraps his arm around her waist and gives her a squeeze, but doesn’t say more. Together, they walk out of the foyer of the building, all while being watched by two young women leaning on the wall beside the lifts.

The women exchange stunned, disbelieving looks.

“James Noble? The James Noble?” one of them asks.

“With Rose Tyler?” the other asks. “The girl up in flat 10-2?”

No fucking way…

oOoOo

James stares at the front door for several long seconds after Jackie’s marvelous exit. Rose shifts away from his side to step forward, twisting the lock and fastening the deadbolt chain before she clunks her forehead into the door. She doesn’t move from her position, so he goes to her.

Carefully, he slips his arms around her waist and presses a whisper-soft kiss to the side of her neck. Though she feels limp, she manages to spin in his grasp to instead plonk her head into his chest rather than her front door. She simply stands there, unmoving, as he rubs her back.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, voice muffled. “I didn’t think… I thought she’d… I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t know what to say, so he stays quiet, nestling his stubbly cheek into her hair and breathing her in. Never before has a parental introduction gone so poorly. Usually his partners are as famous as him, so the parents are accepting and gracious or simply indifferent. Occasionally they’ll fawn over him.

But the outright hostility and venom that Jackie just spat at him…

“I didn’t realize you’d told your mum about me,” he finally says, matching the volume of his voice with hers.

She groans and says, “During our holiday. I’d been out of sorts, thinkin’ you didn’t care about us at all. Mum caught on to my mood. I didn’t mean to tell her, but I was quite upset, and it all just sorta… came out. And when I saw your red-carpet interview that confirmed I was just a bit of fun for you… I lost it, and she saw my reaction, and it wasn’t good.”

James wishes he could go back in time and wallop his past self across the head for his thoughtless comments. He wishes he’d had the courage to tell the interviewer how he felt about Rose, to tell the world that he was riding the high of falling in love, and that he wanted to keep it private. But he hadn’t. He’d been a prick and a twat, and he’d broken Rose’s heart from five and a half thousand miles away.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ve forgiven you for it all. But I just… I guess I’d forgotten how much I’d told Mum about you. And I’d forgotten how upset she was on my behalf. I was stupid for thinking that telling her on the spot that you and I were properly together would be enough for her to accept you. I shouldn’t have done it this way… I should have talked to her first, then introduced you. I’m so stupid.”

His stomach churns as he squeezes her tightly, as though that could rid them both of the shock they’re in.

“Should I… should I go?” he asks, mentally pleading with her to say no. The thought of spending his night in his empty house makes him ache with loneliness.

To his relief, she shakes his head. “I don’t want you to, but I don’t feel like I deserve to have you with me tonight. My mum just… verbally eviscerated you. You must be so angry.”

“Not at all,” he insists. “Well… I’m a bit chastened. And a bit embarrassed that I made such a poor first impression, and that you’d been so upset about my behavior that you told your mum how awful I am. But I still want to be here. With you. If that’s all right.”

In response, Rose finally lifts her face from where it had been pressed into his shirt. Her eyes are a little red but completely dry, though he barely registers that fact before she threads her fingers through his hair, presses up onto her toes, and brushes her mouth to his. His eyes flutter shut at the glorious pressure of her kiss. He melts into her, splaying his palm across her back to hold her close.

“Stay,” she murmurs when she breaks away, though she catches his lips in another kiss a moment later. “Please stay with me.”

“For as long as you wish,” he says, because there is nothing on this planet that could make him leave.

Apart from her kiss of greeting at the door, this is the first that James has had Rose’s hands and lips on him in over a week. He tries to keep it chaste and slow, still unsure whether it’s appropriate for him to stay, while hoping to convey comfort and support through his body. He really shouldn’t let them get carried away; Rose is obviously upset, but he just can’t help it. He’s drawing as much strength from her as she hopefully is from him.

He has the presence of mind to keep his hands in safe places, primarily across the expanse of her back. He grabs onto the fabric to anchor himself as he basks in the heady intoxication of her mouth.

They each know exactly where this kiss is headed but pretend not to, and instead they explore each other’s mouths in lazy, indolent strokes of lips and tongue. James quickly becomes far too hot, his skin flushed and tingling with anticipation of things to come. He tentatively dips his fingers beneath her jumper, shuddering to touch her bare skin. She sighs into his mouth and presses her front flush with his.

He’s steadily getting hard in his jeans, each beat of his heart sending his blood rushing down, down, down, helped along by the rocking of Rose’s hips. He drops a hand to her arse, caressing and squeezing and pulling her more tightly into him. With his other hand, he tangles his fingers into her hair and guides her head back a bit to get better access to her neck. She grips his hips with near-bruising force as he plants row after row of searing kisses to the sensitive patch of skin beneath her ear. That familiar whining moan rushes out of her as she shudders in his arms, holding him close to urge him on. Not that he needs the encouragement.

Without breaking the kiss or the press of their bodies, James slowly guides them down the hall and to Rose’s bedroom. It takes ages, as he keeps getting distracted with the taste of her skin and the sound of her quiet gasps. They move even more slowly when Rose remembers that she has hands, then proceeds to use them to cup him and stroke him through his jeans.

“Christ,” he chokes out as a spark of pleasure zips up his spine.

“Rose,” she counters, giving him a playful squeeze that sends a full-body shudder through him.

“Smart-arse. Fuck, do that again.”

A laugh hums up her throat, vibrating against his now-still lips as she grips him tightly and rubs. He’s going to fucking lose it, right here in the doorway of her bedroom, but Christ this feels so good and he never, ever wants her to stop.

The intensity recedes a moment later, and he regains his senses enough to tug her hand away from him to instead guide her all the way into her room. There’s a pile of laundry on her bed that Rose haphazardly shoves to the floor.

“Clothes off,” she orders as she fumbles with the hem of her jumper, tugging until she pulls it over her head.

He doesn’t need telling twice.

Neither of them bothers with trying to sexily disrobe the other. Rather, they go for speed and efficiency, and soon enough, they’re both wonderfully naked. She’s as beautiful as he remembers, even more so, and he drags her down to the mattress with him. They move together until Rose is on her back, her legs open for him, and he’s atop her, his hips cradled in hers. She reaches between them for his cock, and strokes him a few times as she guides him inside of her.

He presses in, slowly, inch by inch, shivering at the sensations rushing through him. He groans through clenched teeth as he’s fully seated, forcing himself to wait, to give Rose a moment to adjust. She’s panting beneath him, chest rising and falling as her nails bite into the fleshy part of his back.

“Okay,” she whispers, arching her hips up and pulling him close for a rough, sloppy kiss that conveys everything she wants and needs from him.

His skin sings, tingling at the sensation of so much of her body pressed to his. His blood turns molten, burning him from within as he begins to move.

“Feels so good,” he chokes out, pulling back and plunging forward in a steady, measured manner. The slick glide of her all around him is as addictive as ever, and he trembles with the pleasure slowly mounting in him.

“Uh huh.” Her agreement dies on a moan as he thrusts in with a little more force this time. “James.”

He catches her bottom lip between his before releasing it to kiss her again. He teases his tongue into her mouth, flicking at the roof of her mouth just behind her front teeth, then going back to simpler kisses. Rose clings to him, kissing him back in equal measure as her nails rake down his spine to cup his arse, guiding his quickening rhythm. The sting of her nails coils a raging, aching heat low in his spine, building higher and higher until he knows it won’t be much longer until he’s lost.

“I missed you,” he grunts as her muscles begin to tighten around him. Thank fuck; she’s as close as he is. He redoubles his effort, wanting to push her over the edge first. “So much.”

“Me too,” she gasps. “Fuck. Please…”

He speeds up his rhythm, giving up on kissing her lips and instead tucking his face into the side of her neck. He breathes her in then plants his mouth to that patch of skin beneath her ear that is always her undoing. He grins to himself as she shudders and curses and moans, and when he dips a hand between them to rub her, she breaks.

She cries out and writhes into the mattress, arching her hips up and up and up, closer to him, closer to the sensations he is wringing out of her. She’s perfect, and fucking hell, he’s right on her heels. The perfect pressure within him pulls tighter, making him lose all sense as he chases his high. He thrusts with abandon, clenching his teeth as the flames fan hotter, drowning him, consuming him…

He lets out a wrenching moan and thrusts deeply into her, releasing helplessly, shaking and cursing and burying his face into her. Sensation sparks through him, channeling relief and pleasure through his entire body, curling his toes and stealing his breath. She’s everywhere, all around him and holding him through this maelstrom that has never felt so fucking good.

Rose… he thinks he gasps her name, but the rushing in his ears deafens him to anything except his erratic heartbeat.

He returns to awareness by Rose lazily stroking his back and kissing the top of his shoulder. His body is too heavy to move, but he manages to pull out and flop indelicately beside her, keeping an arm and leg slung over her. She laughs quietly at his antics, and he grins into the pillow. He cracks open an eye to look at her, and the sight of her smile and sex-mussed hair and flushed cheeks ignites a joy and love so deep that he begins to giggle. His body is thrumming with hormones that make him feel boneless and content, and through it all, he laughs and folds himself closer to Rose.

She’s laughing with him and turns to face him fully. He mirrors her position so they’re both on their sides, their legs tangled lazily together. He reaches out and brushes a few rogue strands of hair away from her face, then leans in to kiss her softly.

“That was great,” he whispers into the sacred silence of her bedroom.

“Mhm. Very great.”

“The most great,” he says, beaming as she rolls her eyes.

“Did you have a nice trip?” she asks.

He hums in wordless assent, and briefly tells her all about the week he’d spent in east Asia, meeting fans and doing photoshoots while promoting Catalysis.

“How was your week? Are you feeling better?” While her voice is still raspy from the illness she’d contracted, she looks and sounds much better than she had during their video chat on his last night in Japan.

“Much better. Teaching classes while feeling like death is always frustrating, but it’s easier than arranging for a substitute,” she says with a shrug.

He frowns, but they already had this discussion about how shittily schools treat their teachers, so he lets it go.

“I’ve got an upcoming holiday concert at the O2, weekend after next,” he murmurs, remembering the monthly schedule Donna had sent him that morning. “I’d… I’d really like you to come. If you want. It’s not just me. I think Ed Sheeran is on the list too. And Astrid Peth. She’s a good mate of mine. You can bring a few friends with you. There’s a private suite for my guests, so you could stay hidden, mostly, as long as cameras aren’t wandering around. And my mum’ll be there too. I think. Well. I should invite her, shouldn’t I…?”

Rose interrupts his nervous rambling with a soft kiss. He melts into her, but she breaks it far too soon for his liking.

“I’d love to,” she says, cupping his cheek before scraping her nails through his hair.

His eyes flutter shut at the echoes of pleasure that ripple through him, and he grins at her acceptance of his invitation. He’s giddy at the thought of being on stage and looking into his private suite to see Rose. His favorite pieces of his life will be in the same place, melding together perfectly.

He leans forward to kiss her again, and she willingly reciprocates.

oOoOo

They sleep, eventually. Between (and during) bouts of sex, they talk about everything and nothing. It’s like nothing bad can happen to them here, not when they’re twined so intimately, not when they’re making each other laugh so freely.

Wrung out in that perfect post-marathon-sex way, James buries himself beneath Rose’s blankets and lets blissful unconsciousness claim him. His dreams are vague and foggy, and he doesn’t remember them when he awakes later that morning to sunlight peeking through Rose’s curtains.

His eyes are gritty and heavy as he leans over to check the time. It’s barely 8am, but he feels refreshed, even though the drowsiness of lingering sleep tugs at him again. His shuffling has disturbed Rose, who curls close to him and mutters something unintelligible. He kisses her forehead and closes his eyes once more.

He drifts in and out for many long minutes before the gurgling of his stomach is too distracting. Even Rose hears it, and she pokes his belly, mumbling, “Shush.”

“Can’t exactly help it. Mind if I order a breakfast and coffee delivery?”

“Go for it,” Rose says through a yawn.

“Then can I borrow your shower?” he asks, sitting up and letting the sheets pool around his naked waist.

“Go for it,” she repeats, tucking an arm beneath her pillow to glance up at him. Her gaze falls to the morning erection that is somehow poking at the blankets despite their multiple rounds of very satisfying sex the night before. “Well, hello.”

She gently prods it, giggling when it bobs a bit. “Bouncy.”

James stifles a snort. “You’re adorable when you’re sleepy.”

“Pfft.”

He lets her mindlessly poke his cock as he scrolls to a food delivery app and orders a selection of bagels and croissants for them, as well as his favorite coffee and her favorite tea. His chest balloons with warmth when he adds Rose’s address to his list of favorites, then places their breakfast order.

“Should be here in half an hour,” he says, resting his phone on the nightstand, ignoring the handful of missed notifications. It’s the bloody weekend, for God’s sake. It can wait. For good measure, he completely silences everything, not wanting his morning with Rose to be disturbed.

“Hmmm, how can we pass the time?” Rose muses, blinking up at him through her lashes and grinning wickedly.

She shows him just how entertaining thirty minutes can be.

He doesn’t have time for a shower before there’s a knock at the door that has them scrambling for clothes. He tugs on his pants and t-shirt while Rose simply dons a robe overtop her knickers, cinching it tight at the waist to keep her modesty. They emerge from the bedroom, with James going to the kitchen for plates while Rose heads to the door.

There’s an odd commotion in the hallway, but James doesn’t really think much of it, not as he absently wonders what he and Rose could do today. Maybe they can sneak out somewhere and visit a museum or something. Maybe he could take her to the studio—it should be fairly empty on a Saturday morning. Maybe they can take an impromptu road trip to somewhere Rose has never been. Pack their bags and drive to the first place they can think of. Book a hotel and order in a bunch of fancy food and rent some films to watch and get drunk on expensive wine and kiss until their lips are bruised. God, that sounds like a perfect weekend, and he hopes Rose will be agreeable.

But all of those plans, those hopes, are dashed the moment Rose opens her front door to reveal a stunned delivery person and over a dozen paparazzi photographers, armed and ready with flashing cameras.

#ficandchips #dwfic #doctor who #ten x rose #sacred new beginnings #ten x rose au #james x rose #my fic #romance #angst #it's heeeeere!!!#enjoy 😘💜

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tottymatsuno · 3 years ago

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Updated Info + MINORS AND BLM*TSU/PROSH*PPER DNI! 18+ ONLY!

Masterpost + Links

updated 3/27/2022

IMPORTANT LINKS

Carrd | AO3 |Kofi Link! | halfeviltotty alt blog |

GENERAL TAGS

IMPORTANT LINKS FOR THOSE JUST JOINING US

RESOURCES/ OFFICAL ART

Osomatsu Fics | Karamatsu Fics | Karamatsu Meta | Kara Meta Halfevil edition

| Choromatsu Fics | Ichimatsu Fics | Jyushimatsu Fics |

TODOMATSU TAG

Todomatsu Halfevil ediition | Todomatsu |

Todomatsu Multichapters

Pink Angel From Hell

PINK ANGEL FROM HELL

In The Peach Pit; Saw You Fake It

IN THE PEACH PIT; SAW YOU FAKE IT

Peach Pit Ch1 | Peach Pit Ch2 | Peach Pit Ch3 | Peach Pit Ch4 |

Equal Footing

EQUAL FOOTING

Equal Footing Ch1 | Equal Footing Ch2 | Equal Footing Ch3 |

Pure Snow; Muddy Tracks

PURE SNOW; MUDDIED TRACKS

Apostasy

Trisaigon 1 | Trisaigon 2 |

Idol Worship

TOTTY ONESHOTS

OTHER BASTARDS

LOVING YOU IS EASY BECAUSE YOU'RE DEAD

Loving You Is Easy Because You're Dead

Osomatsu Karamatsu Ichimatsu

WHO YOU REALLY ARE

Who You Actually Are

Baker Nonny's Request

Osomatsu | Karamatsu |

ALL REQUESTS

Random lil things

#new pinned post #gonna add the other links later

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keelywolfe · 5 years ago

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FIC: Severed Bonds (Chapter 12)

Summary: Edge, Jedi Knight, is lost in a Galaxy without the Jedi Order and the only one left to him is one who already betrayed them all.

Tags/Warnings: Spicyhoney, Star Wars AU, Darkfic, Angst, Minor Character Deaths, Friends to Enemies to ?, Hatesex…?, Trauma, Implied Possible Insanity, Rough Sex, Lemons, Mentions of Prostitution, Violence, Possessiveness

Severed Bonds: a Spicyhoney SW AU

CH1 | CH2 | CH3 | CH4: Interlude | CH5 | CH6: Interlude 2 | CH7 | CH8 | CH9 | CH10 | CH11 |

Read Chapter 12 on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

The mines were never empty.

No matter the hour, whether or not the dual suns were in the skies, there were workers of any species in the long tunnels that snaked beneath the ground. Digging for the rich dorium ore, alone or in groups, working as many or as few hours as they cared. All that mattered to the Company was the amount of ore they brought in and each worker took company credit for their pay.

It was accepted for goods in the little mining town and no other place in the galaxy, keeping them trapped by their own funds on this desolate planet. That and the stims they could purchase with their credits and when a worker fell in one of the dank tunnels, sickened from breathing in the ore dust or simply dead, there would be a mad scramble for their half-filled bucket.

And the cycle continued.

One worker, a Kel Dor by their distinctive breathing apparatus and face mask, worked long hours every day, filling only slightly more buckets of ore as any other.

They worked alone and the thugs that preyed on the solo workers followed them the first few days, eager for a fresh victim.

Only to halt in confusion as they seemed to vanish within the depths of the mine, leaving the would-be thieves to fight amongst themselves over who allowed them to get away.

Two days after their arrival, something happened within the gangs, a bloody affair spoken of in whispers, and no further attempts were made to follow them. They were left alone to fill their buckets, hours of backbreaking work for a pittance and if they were given an extra credit or two at the ore exchange, no one stood close enough to notice a subtle flick of a hand or a low, persuasive murmur through the voice synth.

The mining town was in truth little more than a few rows of shanties manned by rotten-tooth proprietors selling cheap goods and stims. They came out only to shriek at any miner who collapsed by their shack, kicking them vigorously and spitting curses. Until the unfortunate either stumbled out of the way of their ire or were otherwise dragged away by the stoic cleaners, their bodies cast into one of the large, open pits scattered across the wasteland.

The Kel Dor stopped at one of the food stalls, using their credits to purchase a few containers of greasy noodles and packages of the thin, bland nutritional wafers. Another stall sold them a few jogan fruits with only a few dark places softened with rot.

Normally the Kel Dor would set his packages into a rucksack and be on their way with that, but this day they paused, considering. Finally, they made a last purchase, a small grease-spotted box that they added to the rest.

No one paid them any mind. Most of the others were scurrying to purchase their daily stims and food was an afterthought. All of them scrawny, skeletal beings who would be replaced by others who looked the same, an endless line of spiritual twins who would mine the ore till death replaced them with the next.

The Kel Dor went past them, the huddled groups already sagging to the ground in chemical bliss. They walked out of town to the dusty outskirts where few lived. On a rickety rack, a speeder was locked into place along with sparse collection of other vehicles and any brave enough to lay a hand on it earned a nasty shock for their trouble.

The Kel Dor straddled it without concern, shifting to guide it over the cracked, parched ground out into the wastelands.

When they were out of view of the ramshackle town, a small droid wriggled free of a side pouch, chirping happily as it clambered up to nestle into the rider’s lap.

The droid earned a gentle pat for the effort, and they rode on with only the roaring motor breaking the silence.

The first sun was creasing the horizon when the ship came into view. They pulled up next to it, parking the speeder within the protection grid before the Kel Dor stripped off the respirator, peeling away the mask to breathe in great gulps of sweltering air.

Edge wiped wearily at his sweaty skull despite the filth of his gloves. The arid climate was all the more unpleasant for having to wear a disguise, but it worked well enough.

Plenty of species needed a breathing apparatus in different environments. No one had given him a second glance here past gauging how easily he would be robbed, and those looks had been easily dissuaded with a little subterfuge and Force persuasion.

He gathered up the day’s supplies along with the sweaty mask and started for the boarding ramp.

“Shall we join Rus for dinner?” Edge asked, pausing to allow BD-7 a chance to scramble up and sit on his shoulder.

It made a rude sound at that and Edge struggled not to laugh, if only to keep from encouraging it. The little droid hadn't grown any fonder of Rus over the weeks they’d been here and took any opportunity it could to lay siege on his ankles. Rus’s boots were covered in a fine collection of little scuffs and no amount of Edge’s scolding could convince BD to stop.

For some reason, Rus found this hilarious, never lashing out at the little droid. Small, strange things could spark his temper, but always he nudged the little droid aside without leaving so much as a scratch, striding away from the string of chirping abuse that BD-7 hurled at him daily with nothing more than a chuckle.

That odd acceptance wasn’t enough for Edge to trust them alone while he worked. BD-7 always traveled with him during the day, keeping guard over their vehicle while Edge gathered enough ore for the credits they needed.

It was exhausting work even with a judicious use of Force, but physical labor Edge could manage. If the credits were barely a quarter of what a laborer would earn on a civilized planet, they were in no position to negotiate. What was more difficult was walking past the other miners, feeling the aura of death around them, their lives leeching away in hard work and an endless cloud of mind-fogging drugs.

He couldn’t help them. Even if Edge spent all his hard-earned credits on extra food, they wouldn’t accept it, slapping away a generous hand if it wasn’t holding out a stim.

All he could do was earn enough to keep them in meals and fuel. His work at least gave them an appearance of legitimacy, for whatever it was Rus was doing in the late hours certainly was not.

Most nights after their evening meal was shared, Rus would take the respirator and speeder, heading out to earn credits his own way.

Not sex, Edge didn’t think. Rus came back to him bearing no unusual bruises, and always with republic credits rather than company ones, adding them to their stash.

He didn’t ask how Rus was earning credits. Better, perhaps, not to know when he unable to claim Rus, at least not the way he did Edge.

Love, Edge could allow, offering it for Rus to cast away or silently accept, depending on his mood. Jealousy Edge could not let take root; his unsettled emotions were difficult enough to deal with during his daily meditations. Rus’s bones belonged to no one but himself.

The opposite was not true. A claim had been laid down on Naiver-12 that Edge did not refute.

That Edge belonged to Rus would have upset him, once. Once he would have been disgusted by the very idea. These days he was more than willing to give over his body to Rus, opening to him, only to him.

Unequal, yes, and Edge didn’t care. Rus’s body was for anyone and his body was only for Rus. He’d accepted that from the beginning.

But their minds and souls were only to be shared with each other. Edge’s soul would accept nothing less and he could feel Rus’s acceptance of that every time they opened their bond.

His body was not his soul, but even with that unspoken agreement, it was still a relief to know no one was laying rough hands on Rus those nights.

Sharing the respirator, on the other hand, was a minor annoyance, but until they could afford another, it would have to do. It did make Edge wonder what Rus had done wearing their shared face that turned the thugs’ gazes of greedy interest to fear when they saw him. Not enough to ask.

But breathing in Rus’s scent every morning, the sweetness of his sweat, was not unpleasant. It lingered for the first hours of his day, a small comfort in the midst of hard work.

There were baths in the encampment, but even if Edge dared stripping down to reveal his bones, he wouldn’t want to bathe in filthy, stagnant water that probably held countless diseases. A sonic shower was better than slow death from plague, if only barely.

There was a sanitary station directly next to the ship’s entrance. Edge stripped out of his jumpsuit and sent it down the cleaning chute for the morning, stepping beneath the quick, uncomfortable sweep of the sonics. Bare, he walked to their quarters, BD-7 clinging easily to his shoulder, only hopping off reluctantly when Edge dressed in his robes. A thin protection to face his…lover?...but better than nudity.

Only then did he make his way to the galley.

Rus was lying on one of the benches at the table, his long legs sprawled off the end. He didn’t sit up until Edge set out the food containers and the heavy, rich scent of cooked food filled the air.

“what are you killing us with today?” Rus asked at last, swinging his legs under the table.

He snagged one of the flimsicard containers, pulling out a noodle with his bare fingers and slurping it noisily. Rus only laughed when Edge slapped the back of his skull unhesitatingly, dropping an eating utensil in front of Rus with a pointed clatter.

“the creche master isn’t here to scold me,” Rus said coyly. A subtle dig, that one. He must’ve slept well while Edge was gone to be more playful than cruel.

There was some relief at that, outside of the tiny cut of his words; Rus’s nightmares were growing steadily worse.

On the nights that he didn’t run his mysterious errands, he always woke screaming, his sockets blank and dark, whatever memories haunting him concealed behind a wall in his mind.

He seemed rested enough today. Perhaps sleeping in the daylight hours was better for now despite the heat of the suns testing the cooling systems. Anything was better than waking to those awful screams.

Rus was making steady progress on the noodles and Edge opened his own container, suppressed hunger breaking free of its bonds.

The noodles were just this side of too salty, but the broth they were swimming in was satisfyingly rich. Slices of some fungi floated in it and the vegetables were unknown but crunched with alluring freshness. A meat option was available but Edge never ordered it. Unknown vegetables were acceptable in most cases, unknown meat, almost never.

The nutritional wafers were put away with the other preservable supplies. The small, grease-stained box, however, was pushed silently over to Rus.

Who opened it with wary curiosity to reveal a small, sugar-crusted cake. It cost an entire credit on its own, an almost unknown indulgence on this planet that Edge bought on impulse. Rus had always had a sweet tooth.

Rus didn’t comment on the cake, but his moan of appreciation as he devoured it spoke volumes. When it was gone, he licked a bony finger and dabbled in the box for the last of the crumbs. This time Edge let his lack of manners go. It might be some time before there were sweets again.

It was a pleasant meal, all things considered. So Edge was taken off guard when Rus abruptly asked, “what were you going to do after they killed me?”

“What do you mean? When who killed you?” It wasn’t uncommon for Rus to wander off on a mental tangent, leaving Edge struggling to catch up.

Rus slanted him a sideways look. The darkened circles beneath his sockets were ones of permanence, and his eye lights were coldly amused. “the jedi, of course. the council sent jedi to kill me.”

“I wasn’t there to kill you.” It was more truth than not.

Not enough. Rus’s smile curled into a sneer. “how charming, you were going to save me, were you?” He shook his head, pityingly. “do you really think that was the plan for the others?”

No. He didn’t. But he was sick of playing the role of enemy, sick of being the villain in Rus’s story. Distance gave some clarity and there were wrongs committed on both sides between them, Jedi and Sith, Edge and Rus, and Edge was weary of being the whipping boy. A cracked skull and the loss of all the Jedi was enough penance for anyone.

“what were you doing there?” Edge countered.

“me?” Rus looked at him in surprise. “my master sent me to javin for negotiations. it was beneath my skills, to be honest, and it seems he somehow forgot to tell me not only about the jedi hunting me down, but also about his little plan with the clone troopers.” He tutted sadly, but his fury colored the Force around them with bitter heat. “mind must be going, poor old thing.”

Rus’s grin was sour. “what i am sure about is that i wasn’t supposed to survive that little rendezvous. either the jedi were supposed to kill me or the clone troopers. you and i should be dead, jedi….ouch! stop, you brat!” Rus reached down and there was a clang from the slap of bone against metal, not nearly as loud as it could have been. “i wasn’t threatening him, i was stating a fact! would you mind calling off your watchdog before i kick him into a black hole?”

It was an idle threat but perhaps better to not take chances.

“BD-7, come here.” For a wonder, he did as he was told for once, sullenly trudging over to Edge. Honestly, he hadn’t realized droids had the capacity to glare before meeting this one.

But oddly, the growing tension was broken. The glowing rage in Rus’s eye lights dimmed to something thoughtful.

“why don’t you put your pet in a time out,” Rus said suddenly, “and you can come over here and fuck me.”

“You told me we were planning our next move tonight.” But the flare of heat in his soul and between his legs was willing to postpone.

“i am,” Rus licked his teeth, and the banked heat in his sockets was enticing rather than alarming. “i think better when i’m relaxed.”

By the time Edge wrangled the small, furious droid out the door, the empty food containers were scattered on the floor and Rus was atop the table, bare femurs spread and his legs dangling off the end from his bent knees.

Edge leaned over him, bracing his hands on the table, eye lights trailing over those slim, scarred bones. Rus tipped his skull up for a kiss and his heated amusement turned to confusion when Edge didn’t take it.

“You were right,” Edge told him, low. “If I couldn’t save you, I was going to kill you.”

“ah, there we are,” Rus only smirked up at him, a glittery shine in his eye lights. “well, according to jedi thinking, by killing me you would be saving me. what about now? have you learned to think for yourself, yet?”

“I wouldn’t hurt you,” Edge tried. It was a promise they’d shared before, both of them, broken time and again. It shouldn’t hurt when Rus called him on it.

“awww, you’ve already hurt me plenty, haven’t you, sweetheart.” And the laughter beneath those words was a wound of its own. “but if you’re promising not to kill me, i may take you up on it.” The sudden softness on his face, uncertain gentleness, sent another pang through Edge’s soul, a more tender wound. “thinking on your own, though, that takes a while, jedi. took me a long time. now, are you going to fuck me or are you waiting for me to top?”

Edge didn’t answer, couldn’t find the words for any part of that. Instead, he slid down, cutting off Rus’s startled protests by pressing his face to the softness between his legs, his cunt softer than any other part of Rus, even his soul.

He buried his tongue in that sweetness, over and over, until fingers were scrabbling at his skull and Rus was swearing in broken gasps. Until Rus braced a foot against his shoulder and pushed, only enough to give him leverage to pull Edge on top of him.

Both of them fumbled together at his trousers, fingers tangled with fabric and each other. When his cock was finally free, Edge wasted no time, only briefly slicking through those wet folds before pressing inside.

“ah, yes…fuck…hard-harder!” Rus slurred out. He didn’t wait, wrapped both legs around Edge’s pelvis and tried to drag him in.

Edge resisted, pressed in deep, waiting as Rus pleaded and clawed at him, waiting until that hoarse, begging voice broke.

Then he slowly withdrew, only to plunge back in in one long, hard stroke. Rus wailed as Edge rode him relentlessly, driving into him while Rus begged without shame. Their bodies crashed together, the table creaked and screeched with every thrust, jittering across the floor. Until it hit the wall and there it thumped, once, twice, and Edge threw his head back with a harsh groan as he came in that wet, trembling heat.

Gasping, he sagged down on Rus, ignoring his frustrated swearing. With effort, he managed to work a hand between them. Edge rocked his pelvis in short thrusts even as he softened inside him, circled the hard nub of his clit with a thumb until Rus shuddered, hands and cunt tightening convulsively as he toppled over his own peak.

Then there was nothing but panting, their sweat mingling as Edge managed to rise up shakily on his elbows. Rus didn’t quite respond to his soft kiss, parted his teeth drowsily but his tongue was lax against Edge’s coaxing one.

He didn’t protest when Edge shifted, breathed out a contented sigh as Edge carefully withdrew and fastened his trousers. Only snuggled into Edge’s arms when he picked Rus up, kicking aside the crushed food containers to carry Rus to their bed.

Edge set him gently onto the blankets and it was only a moment’s work to pull off his own robes, settling next to him. Their bond wasn’t opened, but softened, inviting a light press of thoughts and Edge did, curling up against Rus’s mind as he did the same to his body.

But the nightmare still came. Rus woke screaming in his arms and all Edge could do was hold him, soothe him with useless words.

Slowly, Rus settled. His body, always and never Edge’s, was thin and trembling beneath the blankets. His mind was a brick wall. Lying in the darkness, holding him close, Edge could only wonder at what was hidden behind the closed shutters of Rus’s mind.

Perhaps it was time to find out.

-tbc-

#Spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #star wars AU

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artistic-writer · 6 years ago

Text

Alii dimidium Lunam (The Other Half of the Moon) - CS Werewolf AU - Ch 21

Title: Alii dimidium Lunam (The Other Half of the Moon) by @artistic-writer artwork by @cocohook38 & @artistic-writer

Rating: E (overall rating) for explicit sexual content, language and themes throughout. Trigger warnings will follow and be added as they are needed to avoid spoilers.

Art by @cocohook38 - Poster - Emma - David - Killian - James - Walsh - Graham - Liam - Brennan - Ruby

Chapter Art by @cocohook38 - Ch1 - Ch2 - Ch3 - Ch4 (NSFW) - Ch5

Art by @artistic-writer - 1 - 2 - 3 -

Also on: AO3 - FF

A/N: Werewolf sunday! And oh look, Emma’s heat is over ;)

Massive thanks to my wonderful betas, @hookedonapirate who is one of the best beta’s this fandom has to offer - I seriously love her guys, and she deserves all the good things <3 <3 and @kmomof4 to whom this fic is also gifted for her birthday and for creating the @cssns Thank you to my crew, @hollyethecurious @resident-of-storybrooke @courtorderedcake @doodlelolly0910 and special thanks to @killian-whump @killianmesmalls and @sherlockianwhovian for how they helped with the last few chapters. And to @flipperbrain who drew THIS piece of art for this fic in December, before it was even written!

Taglist: @cssns @resident-of-storybrooke @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @hookedonapirate @winterbaby89 @courtorderedcake @initiala @cocohook38 @branlovesouat @teamhook @snidgetsafan @sherlockianwhovian @shireness-says @wingedlioness @lenfaz @therooksshiningknight@ilovemesomekillianjones @bmbbcs4evr @blowmiakisscolin @deathbycaptainswan @onceuponaprincessworld @chinawoodfan @seriouslyhooked @snowbellewells @wordsmith-storyweaver @jennjenn615 @delightfully-difficult-pirate @doodlelolly0910 @tiganasummertree @hookedmom @thejollyroger-writer @rachie1940 @unworried-corsair @cs-forlife

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There was a storm when Emma awoke the next day, the grey skies stopping any light from penetrating the windows of Liam’s loft and the sound of hailstones bouncing off the panes of glass in each window. The room was dull, an invisible fog making every colour muted, which heightened the ambience of the storm raging outside. Emma’s eyeballs rolled under her lids, tiny white specks dancing around in the blackness, her brain trying to catch up to the sound she was hearing, processing each tap against the glass, one after another.

She shifted her weight, one leg rubbing against the hairy calf of the man who was asleep next to her, their legs entangled under the thin sheet that covered them as they lay awkwardly askew. They had spent most of the night making love, holding each other after each euphoric release that had left them both exhausted and wanting more. Neither had wanted to sleep, unable to accept the fact that they might be holding each other, feeling each other, for the last time. Neither had wanted to stop gazing upon the other.

Each moment was precious, the night turning into day quicker than they had realised. Emma swallowed a thick lump down her dry throat and curled her body closer to Killian’s, the warmth from his naked form enveloping her and making the hair under her hairline flush hotter than usual. Emma peeled one eye open, the smile on Killian’s face even in sleep, catching her eyes immediately as he slumbered on his front next to her, his face pressed into the pillow and Emma resting her head on his forearm.

His hair was a mess, likely from how many times she had raked her fingers across his scalp the night before and the ear she could see still bore the light bruising inflicted by her teeth when she had bit down on the tough, pointy flesh. Emma smirked, recalling the noises he had made, the way he had sighed her name time and time again like it was his last earthly breath, and her name was all he could say.

The gentle rise and fall of his lungs made his muscles ripple across his back, a soft rumble vibrating in the back of his throat as he exhaled into the pillowcase. There was a slight flush in his cheeks, still, and Emma couldn’t help but reach over and push a stray strand of hair from his forehead. Killian’s nose wrinkled but he stayed asleep, his lips sucking in as he heaved a sigh and relaxed back into his dream state.

Not even the rumble of thunder outside woke him, and when a flash of lightning illuminated his face, it caused no stir. Emma smirked, watching him sleep and getting lost in his visage, each feature of his face as enticing as the last. Emma couldn’t help herself and let her hand slip along the side of his face, her thumb gently caressing the raised, reddened scar on his cheek so softly he probably couldn't feel it.

Emma knew Killian had fought to get to where he was. A mongrel life would not have been easy, especially if he had crossed paths with other wolves along the way, and it warmed her heart to know that he would fight for her. Emma knew he had fought Walsh at least once before, and an unsettled pang dug itself into her gut as she recalled the horrific sounds he had made when he had been tortured. Forcing a change as Walsh had was barbaric, the stuff of nightmares, and Walsh would pay for what he had done.

Emma let her hand skim down Killian’s neck, the slow pulse there thrumming against her fingertip as she brushed over the new scars under his jawline. She traced the curve of his shoulder, outlining it with her palm, before pushing herself into a sitting position and watching the movement of her hand as it explored his trunk. Emma had never really looked at Killian’s back before now, unless in wolf form, and she gulped hard at the sight of it. He was littered with scars, most of them clearly from bites and scratches, the jagged edges always healing to leave a distinctly shaped scar she had seen many times before.

She tentatively brushed her fingers over the skin between the since healed wounds, skirting her fingertip over the bumpy flesh of each scar in case she woke him. He groaned a little in his sleep, his whole body vibrating with the sound, raspy and deep in his chest, and Emma noticed his brows furrow when she touched a particularly thick line of scar tissue towards his liver. A row of distinctive puncture holes had healed at his side, the arrangement of scars clearly a bite mark that gave Emma more questions than answers.

“Please,” Killian rasped suddenly and Emma pulled her hand away from his skin with a gasp. His eyes were still firmly closed, crinkling at the edges as he pinched them even more tightly closed, his lips parting slightly as his breath became shallow. He shifted his weight, rolling over onto his back in one fluid movement and letting his head flop to one side, facing away from her. Emma waited, holding her breath, but he was definitely still asleep.

The rain increased outside, crashing into the windows and making the room deafeningly loud. Streaks ran down the panes, flowing like tears along the edges of the frames and Emma had only looked away for a second when she heard Killian take a sharp intake of a catching breath. She looked back to his slumbering figure, new scars glowing a silvery white along his sides as he gasped for more shallow breaths.

“Don’t,” Killian stuttered weakly, his head twitching on the pillow and his hands closing around nothing, grasping out at anything he could. Emma leaned forward, planting her hand to his chest, the scars warming under her hand immediately and Killian’s body relaxing into her touch. He sighed, soothed but the sadness still etched on his face as Emma skimmed her hand across his torso and inspected the other half of the bite mark she could see.

Without warning, Killian’s arm shot up and he wrapped his hands around Emma’s arm in a crushing grip, the skin around her wrist turning white. She contained a cry, the silent sound of pain leaving her mouth in nothing more than a squeak and Killian held her hand in place, his jaw clenching in anger as he held her hand from his skin. Emma covered her mouth with her other hand, pinching her eyes closed and swallowing hard, before blinking back tears and peeling her eyes open to see Killian staring straight at her.

“Don’t,” he repeated, his glassy stare fixed on her and his voice laced with a pleading sorrow that broke Emma’s heart.

“I’m sorry,” Emma whispered quickly, tugging against his hold. Killian relaxed his grip and Emma’s hand immediately went to his face, soothing his panic inducing nightmare that had clearly tumbled over into reality when she had touched his scar. It meant something, she could tell, and when she saw his expression soften, she gave him a warm smile.

“Emma, I-,” Killian began sheepishly, licking his lips nervously and blinking himself awake. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?” He worried quickly, eyes flickering over her arm.

“It’s okay,” Emma told him softly, her thumb caressing his cheek in smooth, rhythmic strokes. It wasn’t much, it was just two little words and a few light touches, but they both felt like it meant so much more at that moment. Finally, Killian’s lips twitched into a shy smile. “Want to talk about it?” Emma cocked her head sideways, her hair falling to cover her knees.

Killian shook his head and found her hand with his, turning it upside down and turning his face to kiss her palm. Emma felt a tingle shoot through her arm right down to the pit of her stomach, the supple, kiss bruised flesh of Killian’s lips setting her skin on fire instantly. When he was done, he pulled her sideways and Emma followed his lead, settling herself across his torso and letting the sheet fall from her naked body.

“Was it a nightmare?” Emma asked him, shuffling her weight until she was practically sitting across his chest, legs tucked up under his armpits and her hands finding the length of his beard. Her digits smoothed through the growth, each twisted, coarse hair tickling her fingers and Killian humming in appreciation of her touch.

“Nothing to worry about,” he assured her, letting his eyes fall closed as Emma scratched through his facial hair. “Just one from a long time ago.”

“You’ve had it before?” Emma asked softly, feeling Killian’s skin tighten under her assault.

Killian nodded limply. “An old childhood trauma, that’s all.”

“Like my shifting accident in the lake?” Emma smirked, feeling much more at ease about telling her story. She knew Killian would never keep anything from her, but she also recognised his reluctance to relive the memory in his own mind. He wasn’t hiding things from her, he was just not ready to face it.

Her reference made Killian smile a toothy grin and his eyes reopened to meet hers. “Aye, something like that, love.” He said no more, and Emma understood.

“But you’re okay?” Emma asked softly. “Last question, I promise,” she giggled, flattening her body to his and kissing his cheek. Her hands held his head in place whilst her lips assaulted his face, exaggerated kiss sounds echoing into the room and drowning out the sound of the rain.

“I am now,” Killian smirked with a chuckle. His hand smoothed over her back, fingertips dancing over the ridge of her shoulder blades and over each bump on her spine. Emma sucked in a breath and Killian grinned against the side of her face when she buried her face in his shoulder.

“You shouldn’t be so easily distracted, Mr Jones,” Emma cooed salaciously, the heat in her core beginning to burn at her insides. She was raw, still swollen from the night before, but she couldn’t help but want Killian, even with the day marking the end of her heat. She had felt it start to fade away during the night, her core temperature returning to normal and the slickness between her thighs less every time Killian had brushed her body in his sleep.

“You shouldn’t be so distracting, Miss Nolan,” Killian growled, planting his hands firmly on her bare behind and pulling her higher up his body. Emma squealed, unable to stop him as he caught one of her nipples in his mouth, making her arch her back towards him and dig her nails into the headboard. Killian sucked hard against the rosy flesh, pulling it into a stiff peak and humming against Emma’s skin, the twitch of his erection not going unnoticed below his waist. “Your heat is ending,” he said idly, dragging his tongue between the mounds that hung just in front of his face.

“You can smell that?” Emma blushed, sitting back to look down at him. Killian let her move, reluctant to let go of the globes of her ass, he held her so she had no choice but to arch her back away from him and rest her hands on his hip bones.

“Amongst other things.” Killian smirked and raised an eyebrow at her, pulling her even higher up his chest with little resistance until her thighs sat over his shoulders and her sex was almost touching his lips. He nuzzled her folds, inhaling her enticing scent that was a little more muted than it had been, but no less aromatic. Emma watched him, her breath catching in her throat and her heart pounding beneath her ribcage, the blood pounding in her ears and between her now open legs.

Emma’s hand found his head and her fingers scrunched his hair, pulling gently with a sexual frustration she thought had left her. It seemed Killian could draw pleasure out of any part of her, at any time, and like an addict, she would gladly take her next fix. There was a pause, his eyes meeting hers, the blue that she had always found so warm and comforting long since replaced by a dark grey that rivalled the storm clouds above them.

“What are you waiting for?” Emma teased with a coy smile. She snaked her hand down the front of her own body, purposely brushing her nipples into much harder buds than before and settled her hand between her thighs. Killian watched her nimble fingers part her outer lips, the glistening treasure that lay beneath flooding his senses with the smell of her arousal. He nibbled his bottom lip and felt himself grow even harder at the sight before him. When he looked back up to her, swallowing hard, Emma smirked, rolling her own bottom lip between her teeth innocently. “Do you need an invitation?”

“Absolutely not.” Killian gave her a wicked grin, his lips barely moving before he closed the gap between his lips and Emma’s sex and pressed a kiss to her clit. Emma moaned instantly, her back curving and pushing her hips harder into his ministrations, the breath leaving her lungs on a heavy, relieved sigh. She hadn’t even known how wound up she was until she had opened her eyes and seen Killian beside her, the memories of the night before coming back to her in a flood of emotions.

Emma rolled her hips a little more, hissing through her teeth when a tingling sensation rippled through her lower abdomen. Killian flicked his gaze up to meet her eyes again, giving her a heavy lidded, sly smile as he tortured her clit with his tongue, circling the throbbing nub with just the tip of his talented muscle.

“Fuck, Killian,” Emma hissed, her cheeks tingling with a blush. She rolled her hips again, her free flowing juices coating Killian’s chin. He let out a breathy laugh at her state, swiping his tongue around her entrance and along the inside of her fleshy lips, teasing her with the prospect of tasting her more intimate areas. Emma groaned in frustration, glaring at the man between her thighs.

“I’m sorry, love,” Killian offered between licks, Emma’s arousal coating his tongue and sliding pleasantly down his throat when he swallowed. “You just taste so-,” he began with a dreamy tone, but Emma’s hands pulling at his haircut him off. Killian stopped, wincing slightly at her sudden aggression and looked up her body once more.

“Touch yourself,” Emma commanded darkly. “Touch yourself and fuck me with your tongue.”

A surge of adrenaline coursed through Killian, more blood impossibly rushing to his rock hard erection at Emma’s words. He grabbed her behind again, holding her to his face as he plunged his tongue inside of her and let out a hum of appreciation at the taste that coated his mouth. Emma went heavy, leaning back on his chest, her entire body overcome with pleasure, each nerve ending firing at the same time and rendering her almost completely helpless. All she could do was cry out, his name on her lips like a prayer, her nails digging into where her hand lay flat on his torso behind her.

When he was happy with the agonizing rhythm he was setting, Killian slipped his hand from her fleshy globes and slid it down his own body and took himself in hand. He was like marble, solid and heavy in his hand, a light drizzle of pre-cum already having oozed onto the thatch of hair covering his stomach. Emma ground down on his tongue, riding his face wantonly and Killian increased the speed of his masturbation when Emma began tugging at her nipples.

The sound of the rain blended into the sound of blood in her ears as Emma felt the coil in the belly begin to tighten, her inner muscles flexing against Killian’s tongue each time he was inside of her and her clit begging for his attention when he was not. Killian lathed her nub, gently scraping his teeth over the ultra sensitive bud with a cruel smirk, watching the way Emma’s face contorted with her impending orgasm.

“Are you going to come on my face?” Killian growled as he took a breath, thrusting his hips up into his hand, his velvety soft skin shifting over his erection and building his own release low in his belly.

“Fuck, yes,” Emma hissed, throwing her head back.

“Am I going to make you come hard, love?” Killian was almost shaking underneath her, his words earning him a whine from the goddess currently straddling his face. He focused on her clit where he knew Emma had been building the most powerful orgasm, the steady throb of blood to the nub so obvious, he had felt it on his lips each time he gave it a gentle kiss.

“God, yes,” Emma cried with a pained sound. She was so close her thighs had begun to quake and her breathing had slowed to a pant, a heat creeping up her spine. “So hard. Killian, don’t stop, right there.”

“Like this?” Killian purred, increasing his speed over the hardened nub.

“There!” Emma gasped, looking back down between her thighs. She felt a rush of arousal at seeing Killian eating her out, his eyes pinched closed in his own pleasure and his hand furiously pounding his length behind her, and without warning, her orgasm hit her suddenly. She squeaked, covering her mouth quickly and she began to shake through Killian’s licking, each flick of his tongue like a new kind of torture against her clit.

Just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, Killian sat up, and in one swift move she was sliding down his torso and being impaled on his hot, hard length. She cried out, the sudden intrusion of his girth heightening her already fluttering orgasm to a new level, the spots behind her eyes never ceasing as she bumped her clit on his pubic bone and came again.

“My, my,” Killian teased darkly, watching her face contort and her eyes roll back in her head. She was a blubbering mess, in a daze from back to back orgasms that had left her incoherent and limp in his arms, weakly grinding herself against him to extend her pleasure with a whimpering groan. “Such a wanton thing.”

“Don’t fucking tease me,” Emma panted, her forehead sticky with sweat. She rocked her hips harder, desperately needing him to move inside of her, anything, the lack of friction too frustrating to bear. “Please.”

Killian was close too, his own orgasm slowly being coaxed out by the ripple of Emma’s muscles and the sopping wetness that had dribbled out as she came, whimpering her pleas. It had been too long, their need to use protection now extinct because Emma’s heat was over, and Killian’s couldn’t wait one more second to feel her wet, slick heat around his unsheathed length. He smoothed his hands through her hair, brushing it from her flustered face and seized her lips in a ferocious kiss. All Emma could do was moan into his kiss, begging against his mouth to stop in almost a cry as his length rubbed a new pleasure point inside of her.

“Killian, please,” Emma whimpered, her body teetering on the edge of euphoria again, her entire being shaking in his lap.

“I’ve missed this feeling,” Killian panted, kissing her eyelids. “I can’t take those blasted condoms any more.” Killian smirked wickedly, the sweat along his brow running down his temple as he slowed his assault and let her still on top of him. Emma whined, but she was glad for the respite, her nipples like pebbles against Killian’s chest as she sagged into his arms.

“No more,” Emma sighed in agreement, her chest heaving for breath and her insides throbbing painfully. “God, you’re amazing,” Emma panted, the fluttering sensation between her thighs begging for him to move again. Killian let out a breathy laugh, kissing the underside of her jaw in a hungry, open mouthed kiss.

“You’ve got one more in you, love,” Killian purred. “I can feel it.”

“Please,” Emma gave him a salacious smile and a raise of her eyebrow, carding her fingers through his hair. “Make me come.”

“Aye,” Killed panted, his cock twitching inside of her. “I think,” he said smoothly, plucking her arms from where they rested on his shoulders and gently moving them behind her back. Emma gave him a broad grin, her excitement intensifying as she complied, crossing her wrists over each other behind her back and letting him gather them up in his hands. “Slow and shallow should do the trick.”

In a sitting position, Killian could only thrust shallowly, but he rolled his hips against the mattress to make sure to cause enough friction against every detail of Emma’s inner core. Her eyes rolled back in her head again, the sheen of sweat over her body beginning to cool her in the chill of their room, and she ground her clit down against his body on each thrust.

It was agony, a delicious torture that only Killian could provide, but he was right. She had one more in her and when Killian felt her tell tale pull at his length and heard Emma’s breath hitch in her throat, he knew he would come too. Seeing Emma come undone was one of the most erotic things for him and he loved the way she chased after every last drop of her pleasure. With a grunt he came at the same time she did, pulling hard on her wrists to keep her body still as he emptied himself inside of her with a few short, hard thrusts.

Emma finally wiggled her arms free when she felt him relax, grabbing his face in her hands and kissing his mouth awkwardly, most of her attention at the corner of his smile as he wrapped her up in his arms protectively. He gave her a squeeze, his muscles bulging against her skin as he kissed her back, lips smacking and lingering against each other as the storm continued outside.

“I’ll always keep you safe,” Killian promised softly, his words a breath against the skin of Emma’s bosom. He had shifted their position and they were now laying back in bed, his head resting sleepily against her chest, her fingers stroking through his sleep and sex messed hair in a slow, soothing motion. Emma kicked out the sheet that was wedged beneath them and shook it loose, letting it flutter to cover them both once more.

“I know,” Emma said with a nod and a hint of sadness. She didn’t know what returning home would bring, no one would, and the longer they waited the more anxiety built up inside both of them.

Killian brushed his thumb over her ribcage, staring at the wall beside the bed. “I wish I could tell you what the dream means. The longer I don’t know, the more I’m starting to think that the headstone is for me.”

“Don’t say that.” Emma stopped her stroking and let him tilt his head up to look at her. She caressed his cheek, her heart cracking in her chest at the sorrow she saw in his eyes. “And the other is not me,” she told him firmly. “So you can stop thinking that right now.”

Killian gave her a warm smile. “How do you know me so well?” He teased, echoing her question from a while ago.

“Fate,” Emma told him firmly. “And that can be changed, so even if the names are ours, we’ll make sure they don’t become our reality.”

The smile that Emma gave him was weak, partly forced, but genuine all the same. She leaned forward, cupping Killian’s cheek in her palm as she kissed him, his hands still against the sides of her body. His touch was electrifying on her skin and Emma felt the skin around her nipples prickle again, her lips curving into a smirk against his when Killian’s hand slid to the pebbled nub.

“Fate has other ideas for us right now,” he growled, pulling his lips from hers and giving her one last dark, lust filled stare before taking the bud in his mouth and rolling his tongue over Emma’s nipple. She arched her back instinctively, watching him suckle her breasts like a hungry babe, a groan tumbling from his lips as he shifted his weight to accommodate his now growing erection.

“Killian!” The room’s ambience was shattered instantly as the door flew open and Liam barged over the threshold, unable to stop himself from looking directly at his younger brother and Emma’s breasts. “Oh, shit!” he screeched, quickly turning away from the scene before him, pinching his eyes closed and trying to erase the images from his mind.

“Bloody Hell, Liam!” Killian spat, annoyed. He hastily covered Emma with his body, tugging the sheet up higher over his shoulders so she could hide in the darkness it cast over them.

“I am so sorry, lass,” Liam stammered to Emma, rubbing his temples nervously.

“It’s okay, really,” Emma assured him from under his brother, stifling her laugh against Killian’s forearm beside her head.

“What do you want? We’re busy.” Killian ground out through clenched teeth, Emma’s slender figure writhing against his length beneath him. She gave him a coy smirk that she knew Liam couldn't see, and proceeded to suck her finger salaciously.

“Might I remind you that is my bed, Killian,” Liam countered angrily, waving his arm behind him towards the bed that he was one hundred percent sure he would have to now burn.

“Get to the point then,” Killian spat, mesmerized by Emma’s tongue as it licked up and down her finger tantalisingly slowly.

“Fine,” Liam grunted, bending over and hurriedly grabbing at Killian’s jeans. They had been his, borrowed after Killian’s clothing had shredded during his encounter with Walsh, but now he was sure he wouldn’t need them anymore. He tossed them at the bed, making sure the denim bundle hit Killian square in the back. “Get dressed.”

“Why?” Killian grumbled with a wince. Emma bit her bottom lip and he cocked his head to the side, begging her with a silent glare to relent her teasing.

“I just got a call from Father,” Liam said hurriedly, retrieving a nearby shirt and throwing it at his brother.

“What did he say?” Killian’s cheeks went pale, even though he was leaning over Emma’s body, and she placed a palm to his cheek to help him remain calm. Any mention of his father sent him into a state but she could always keep him grounded.

“Just get dressed,” he said firmly. “I’ll tell you in the lounge.”

Ten minutes later, Killian and Emma had joined Liam in the lounge. He avoided Emma’s gaze as they exited the bedroom, a pink tinge flushing his cheeks which made her lips twitch up into a knowing smirk. Emma was not embarrassed by her body, she never would be, but it seemed living in the fringes of werewolf society had given Liam a complex about seeing another person naked, especially a woman, in his bed, having her breast sucked by his brother.

Liam cleared his throat, motioning for them to sit down on the couch. Killian sat down first, positioning himself sideways so that Emma had no choice but to slide into his lap, his strong arms wrapping themselves around her body and hugging her tightly, almost possessively. The mention of his father had triggered his need to hold on to the ones he loved, both Emma and Liam, and Killian would be lying if he wasn’t apprehensive about what Liam had to say.

“I’m sorry again,” Liam told Emma softly, rubbing his hands together to try and eradicate some of the sweat from his palms. Emma simply nodded at his apology, her arm looping around Killian’s neck and her hand flattening to his bare shoulder. He was in only his jeans and Emma had put on her bra and panties, deciding to dress in Killian’s tee because the smell was comforting.

“What did Father say?” Killian prodded impatiently, his bare feet sticking to the hardwood floor and his toes flexing against the grain of the wood.

“Neverland is ready,” Liam said sadly, watching the floor between his feet. “Father says they have begun preparations for the attack.”

“So, it’s today?” Emma asked quickly, her fingers gently idling in the hair that grew on the back of Killian’s neck.

“Aye,” Liam nodded, lifting his gaze and looking between the both of them. “It seems that way.”

“Then we have to go,” Emma looked at Killian, the lump in her throat suddenly too hard to swallow comfortably. “My family could be in trouble.”

“I don’t like this,” Killian said concerned. “It feels like a trap.” His eyes met Liam’s across the low coffee table between them and he felt Emma’s hands still on his neck, the tension there clearly interrupting her lazy massage. He still didn’t know if he trusted his father, he barely knew the man, and he wasn’t sure he was willing to risk his or Emma’s life to find out if Brennan was telling the truth or leading them into a trap.

“Do you really think our father would lie to us?” Liam’s head flopped to one side, sympathetically pleading with Killian to trust him.

“I don’t know. Would he?” Killian asked his brother with a bite to his words.

“I think what Killian means,” Emma began, looking between the brothers, “is this information has been handed to us very conveniently.”

“Father said you wouldn’t trust him,” Liam scoffed, shaking his head.

“Would you?” Killian spat, raising his eyebrows at his brother. Emma could feel his rage bubbling beneath the surface, his leg muscles underneath her growing more tense by the second. His fist clenched where it rested on her naked thigh and she shot him a glance, flattening a placating hand to his hairy chest.

“Hey,” Emma said soothingly, drawing his attention to her face. He looked up and she gave him a warm, comforting smile, her fingers gently scratching through his chest hair. “I know you’ve been through a lot, and I wish more than anything that I had stayed in that alleyway to help you fight-,”

“They would have done worse to you,” Liam interrupted and Killian flashed him a dark stare.

“You’re right,” Emma nodded in agreement. “And I will live the rest of my life knowing that you saved me.” She looked back to Killian who had dropped his head to watch his balled fist turning white on her lap. He flexed the muscles, watching his forearm ripple this way and that, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he ground his teeth. “I would give anything to trade places with you, to take away the nightmares,” Emma soothed softly, watching her hand as she ran her nimble fingers over Killian’s furrowed brow. “We can’t change what happened, but we can make them pay,” Emma said sadly, looking back to Liam who wished more than anything he could take away the pain his brother was feeling.

Killian, despite putting on a strong facade, was still hurt, damaged by what Walsh had done to him in the forest and he had been letting his anxiety overshadow his ability to see clearly. Emma knew as well as Liam did that Killian would never fully heal unless he expressed his anger, and as much as she enjoyed his attentions, fucking and running through the forest was never going to fix the broken parts of his mind. Killian needed to face his abuser head on.

Killian needed closure. He needed revenge.

“Brother, I’m not asking you to trust him,” Liam began. “But you trust me, don’t you?”

Killian’s head snapped up to meet his brother’s and he gave him a confused look. “Of course I do.”

“Then trust that I know our father is telling the truth,” Liam said firmly. “Please.”

Emma’s hand found his face, cupping his jaw in her palm and chasing away the knot in his gut. He looked up to her beautiful face, the soft wisps of her golden hair sticking out in all directions, untamed but no less lovely, and she gave him a gentle smile. Her lips were soft and inviting, pink from slight bruising, and the serenity Killian felt was overwhelming. He let his head drop to her chest and she wrapped her arms around him, holding him tenderly as she placed a soft kiss to the back of his head.

“It’s okay to be scared,” she told him compassionately as if she had forgotten Liam sitting opposite them. “I’m scared too.”

“I’m not scared of dying,” Killian said finally, lifting his head. He gave her one last fleeting glance that broke her heart in two before looking over to his brother. “I’m scared of losing myself.”

Liam knew exactly what Killian was talking about. The night they had fought Walsh might have been over a decade ago, but Liam would never forget the look on Killian’s face when he thought he might have taken a life. He was elated, a darkness rising to the surface behind his previously kind eyes and showing Liam the true nature of his wolf side. Killian was a fighter, his scar littered body attested to that, and Liam knew that it wouldn’t be long before Killian finally couldn’t hold back the canine urge to kill any longer.

“You won’t,” Liam told his brother firmly. “I swear it, brother.”

“He needs to pay,” Killian growled darkly.

“And he will,” Emma chimed in softly, her hands running through Killian’s hair and bringing him back to the light. He looked up to her with an apologetic look, blinking away the darkness behind his blue eyes and feeling the warmth of her smile wash over him. “If he survives the attack, my father will make sure of it.”

Killian sobered a little at the mention of David Nolan, the Misthaven pack leader who had put a bounty on his head. He knew she was right. For what he had planned for his daughter, David would make sure Walsh suffered, but what would he do to a mongrel who had fallen in love with his daughter?

“I’ve called Graham,” Liam announced to both of them. “I am going to stay at the cabin with Ruby and Davin, just in case any Neverland wolves have followed their scent there. He is going to meet you at Misthaven.” Liam stood, flattening down the wrinkles in his shirt and heaving a sigh as he made his way around the coffee table. “Make sure you keep the Neverland wolves occupied at Misthaven. I’ll protect Ruby and the babe.”

Killian helped Emma to stand and mirrored his brother, both of them facing each other and speaking with the unspoken bond that they had always had. They didn’t have to say anything; they just knew what the other was thinking. “Good luck,” Liam said, giving him a tight lipped smile and extending his hand to his brother.

Killian looked at Liam’s hand between them briefly, before taking his brother’s hand in his and holding on hard. He shook it once, his knuckles turning white, before yanking hard and pulling his brother into the tightest embrace they had ever had. Liam wrapped a strong arm around his brother, his hand finding the back of Killian’s head and holding him tightly, neither saying a word.

Liam was petrified of losing his brother but he had to stay strong. He was the older sibling and had always needed to carry the weight of sorrow. Killian was too fragile to cope with loss, but damn if he wasn’t the bravest wolf Liam had ever known. Liam knew what would happen if Killian were to lose Emma, he could see it now as clear as day, and he finally understood his brother’s need to protect her, even if it was from her own family and could mean his demise. He didn’t hate Emma at all. How could he? She was the light that drove away the darkness within his brother’s soul.

They parted, Killian hastily wiping away a stray tear that had fallen from his eyelids during the embrace. Emma placed a hand to his back, just to let him know she was there, and that she always would be.

“Good luck, Emma,” Liam told her with all of the sincerity he could muster. “Maybe when this is over, we can get to know each other a little better? I’d love to get to know the woman who has tamed my little brother.”

“Younger,” Killian huffed, feebly landing a punch on Liam’s arm.

“I’d like that,” Emma smiled warmly, lacing her fingers with Killian’s and resting her face to his bicep.

“Graham said he would be at Misthaven within two hours,” Liam told them quickly, checking the time of his watch. “That gives you guys a little over ninety minutes to prepare.”

“We’re ready,” Killian said firmly, looking down at the she-wolf beside him. Emma nodded, pressing her lips to his shoulder with a nod. “I’ll call you when it's over,” Killian promised his brother.

“Thank you,” Liam sighed, relief flowing from his every cell as he made his way towards the door of his apartment. He paused, hand on the door handle before turning back to the half naked couple in his lounge. He fixed his stare on Emma, licking his lips nervously. “Bring him back to me,” he said in a broken voice that cracked in his throat. Emma had no time to answer before Liam was gone, the faint echo of his footsteps as he made his way down the stairs the only sound in the loft.

#alii dimidium lunam #ch21 #cs fic #cs au #cs werewolf au #temporary dog au #angst #smut #wolves of misthaven

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queenofbaws · 6 years ago

Note

For the writers ask :) 💜👶💘

Aw man, since this has fav lines (and HOO BOY I WRITE A LOT OF DIALOGUE), it’s gonna be a little longer, so throwing it under a read more!!!

Ask me stuff for the Writer Ask Game!

Top 3 favorite lines

This is one of the hardest questions I’ve ever been asked in my entire goddamn life. (Mostly because I think I’m very, very funny, despite all evidence to the contrary.) But in no particular order, a fav line from each of my three (current) multi-chaps………

“The only ‘journies of self-exploration’ guys like Michael-Fucking-Monroe go on are the kind that involve a pinky up the ass.” -Josh, The (Almost)s, Ch1

“Oh, God,” Lexaeus said, voice low enough to easily be missed, but ringing with echoes of emotion hollow enough to put a pit in Vexen’s gut. “Oh God. He doesn’t remember their faces…” He turned to Vexen, brow furrowed deeply, “He doesn’t remember what they look like.” -Lexaeus, Book of Retribution, Ch7

“Mary? Where are you? Are you all right?” The tears were hot on his face, burning his skin like sin as he spun, vision and hearing going dim and blurry as though he were slowly sinking into the depths of Toluca itself, pulled under by bony fingers and his own screams. -James, Soft Reset, Ch4

Advice for new writers

Oofa doofa.

Some of this is gonna sound p vague, but…the advice that I see floating around the internet all the time about setting up writing goals and rituals is really A+ stuff. If you make yourself a nice comfy place where your ONLY job is writing, it’s gonna make stuff easier for you. For me, specifically, this means a blanket, my bigass pink salt lamp, a candle, some weird vocal-less music, and all my reference images/files already minimized and pulled up. Once I have all that going, it’s like my brain switches into Write Mode. (Now, how much I get written…is a different story XD)

Another HUGE piece of advice I have is to HAVE WRITING BUDDIES! This is gonna mean a different thing for everyone, but for ME, I have a group of online friends in a server where we post snippets of our work, ask each other batshit questions to help us flesh stuff out, and post any art/music that we think might help each other! I’m lucky enough to also have writing buds irl (like the AMAZING @unicornaffair, whose work EVERYONE should be checking out)–there is legit something magical about sitting around and bouncing ideas off of another person. Usually for us this means we’re eating some kind of takeout and worrying the people sitting around us. But if you’re finding yourself stuck on something, OR if you’re just really excited about an idea and you want someone else to be excited with you, writing friends are the BEST.

Favorite/Least favorite AU

AUGH this one’s hard. I love AUs. All kinds of AUs. If we’re talking in terms of like, general fandom AUs that tend to pop up, my FAV is any iteration of Soulmate AU. I am a huge sucker for ANY kind of Soulmate AU, it’s actually kind of ridiculous. I love them all. So much. My least fav is probably A*B*O stuff, but that’s just a personal pref thing–it’s not my cup of tea.

(Now, if we’re NOT talking general fandom non-specific stuff…I’m always WEAK for angst AUs, and I’m 900% one of those people who comes up with a million half-formed AUs that I flit between with my OCs and shit…like @malum–in–se and I talking about Dragon Age AU, for example :P)

#clumsybookworm18 #writing woes #my fanfiction #LOTS OF STUFF IN HERE

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itsthesupercw · 7 years ago

Text

Would You Rather: Bechloe AU

By MightyTacos on AO3 and FF.net

CH1 | CH2 | CH3 | CH4

Hey friends! I finally updated my movie crossover script of Would You Rather. I made some changes to the cast, so that each player in the game at the table is from PP1. Chloe and Beca are still the main characters, but the surrounding players had a switch around. I decided to keep the characters in line with each of the Bellas’ personalities, with some minor exceptions. Although it may be obvious that Lily is the main antag because she has some dark interests, it seemed more intriguing to have Stacie as the sadistic yet hot character (which means for whoever has seen the film, this should be fun for later!).

CH4:

“We have one small matter to clear up before we begin. In the interest of discretion, and eliminating distraction and unfair advantage, we ask that you leave all possessions here during the game... Phones, keys, et cetera." Bevans spoke over the group seated in a side room, panning his eyes across the lot.

“I don't like this.” Fat Amy said in a gruff voice, standing up from her position on a loveseat. “I don't like it.”

“I assure you they will be safe.” Bevans replied, holding out a bowl in front of Fat Amy. “These are the rules.”

Fat Amy glanced down at Chloe before giving a beady-eyed look at the butler. After failing to challenge his gaze, she reached in her pockets and placed her keys and phone into the bellows of the bowl. Bevans waved the bowl around to collect the other contestants’ possessions, who all hesitantly reached forward to place handbags and mobiles into the pile.

“Right. If you're ready, I'll escort you through to the dining room.” Bevans gave a curt nod. “This way.”

The group all followed suit, walking in a slow pace with Aubrey pushing Lily in her wheelchair. Bevans proceeded to slide a frosted glass door to the side, standing by the door as the ten entered the dining room. A delicately designed, wooden table resided in the center of the room and seats were laid around the table with a name designation for each guest.

“Please, take a seat. Place cards have been provided.”

The group walked around the table, searching for their card before pulling out the padded chairs and sitting in front of utensils and a glass of water. Fat Amy immediately went to examine the windows before sitting down, pulling back the gold-colored curtains only to realize that no window nor glass were behind them, only the same ornate wall paper that lined the rest of the dining room.

Chloe examined her name card, looking over the printed letters before placing it to the side.

Shortly thereafter, Lambrick entered the room with Julian quickly following suit. Julian proceeded to sit at one head of the table whilst Lambrick stood at the end of the other.

And... good evening, everyone.” Lambrick announced, resting his hands on the table. I apologize if I've kept anyone waiting. Welcome to the Lambrick house.” He paused, before adding with an odd enthusiasm: “Oh, this is my son, Julian.”

“Hello.” Julian gave behind side smirk as the group all looked down the table to see Lambrick’s son. Beca went so far as to give a small, awkward wave from her seat.

“Now, you've all met our butler, Bevans, and his staff, yes?” Lambrick pointed to the door, where Bevans was planted alongside another, taller butler. “Bevans. Let's start with some wine, shall we?”

“Dinner tonight is seared foie gras and rib eye steak with a red wine reduction, served with asparagus and garlic leek mashed potato. Enjoy.”

Full plates were placed in front of each guest, with some more eager to start than others.

“Haven't had a meal like this in so long.” Beca muttered, cutting through the steak with quick saws of her knife.

“Never had a meal like this, you kidding me?” Aubrey mocked.

Chloe glanced at Aubrey to her right and Beca to her left, noticing the contents of the plates before raising a tender hand halfway into the air.

“Mm, yes?” Lambrick caught the sight whilst gulping down some wine, stopping to grant her the attention.

“I probably should have mentioned this before.” Chloe began, starting to look down at the food. “Um, I'm a vegetarian.”

Julian immediately scoffs at the end of her sentence, moving to reach for his glass.

“Well, this is interesting. We don't have anything else in the kitchen, Iris.” Lambrick answered with folded hands, adding a half smile at the end.

“Okay. I, I don't mean to be a bother.” Chloe stuttered. “Uh, the potatoes are fine. I'll be fine.”

“So, have you always been a vegetarian?” Lily asked meekly from across the table.

“Most of my life, yes. Long time. I just can't imagine eating...”

Lambrick paused his eating to interrupt: “I think... that we have just found our first opportunity to award some money tonight. Iris. I would like for you to eat the steak and the foie gras. I really would.”

“I can't do that.” Chloe responded with finality, shaking her head.

“You can... But you won't. Yet.” Lambrick toyed, pointing his dinner knife at Chloe.

“No, I really, I can't do it. I'm not trying to be rude. I just, I won't do it.” Shephard Lambrick had already been gracious enough to invite her for this dinner opportunity but crossing her own morals for the sake of a shock factor was something she could never do.

“Listen, I, I understand that it's not going to be easy. But I refuse to accept... that you don't have a price. $5,000 to eat the steak and this decadent foie gras.” Lambrick forked himself some of the steak, adding an exaggerated “Mmmm!”

He chuckled a bit to himself, chewing, before upping the ante. “Make it 10,000.”

The other contestants looked at Chloe, watching her face for any change in expression. Although Lily smiled widely at Chloe, Stacie glanced to the side with a mischievous smirk.

Lambrick instinctively placed a wad of bills secured with a rubberband onto the tabletop, repeating: “$10,000.”

Chloe glared at the money, seeing that the stack of money was composed of $100s.

“What could you do with that?”

“You should eat it. Just close your eyes!” Lily spoke with a surprising amount of enthusiasm. “It's a lot of money.”

Cynthia Rose hummed in agreement besides Lily, chewing with a nod of her head. Chloe could only exhale with a scoff, fiddling with the fork in her right hand. After a moment, she glanced at Aubrey before switching the fork to her left hand and picking up the knife. She tore out a small triangle of the medium-cooked meat, darting it into her mouth with a grimace.

Lambrick chuckled as Chloe struggled, instructing her to eat it with some of the liver also served on the plate. Chloe muttered to herself with a shaky breath as Stacie could only snicker at the sight.

“I can't believe I'm doing this.” Chloe sawed at the other food on her plate.

“Yeah, but $10,000 though.” Beca spoke to the disheartened figure to her right, trying to justify the means of breaking a vegetarian diet.

“A lifetime of discipline and commitment to cause wiped away by a mere $10,000.” Lambrick guffawed from the end of the table. ”Well, that is nothing compared to what's really at stake tonight, I can assure you of that.”

Lambrick paused before watching Fat Amy drinking next to him.

“You don't like the wine?”

“Well, no, it's not that.” Fat Amy answered after a quick swallow, placing her glass of water back on the table.

“We can get you something else. We have some wonderful scotch.”

“No, no thanks, I don't drink.” She answered again with a nervous chuckle, cutting away at her steak.

“Oh... Oh, I see. You're a recovering alcoholic. Aren't you?”

Fat Amy maintained eye contact with him before replying thickly: “It's not your business.”

Lambrick only chuckled. “On the contrary. You are here essentially begging me for money. How is that not my business?”

Fat Amy refused to answer, tonguing the inside of her cheek with a soft stare.

“How long has it been?”

“It's been 16 years, and I turned everything in my life around.” She finally answered with a sigh, addressing more of the table at large than only Lambrick.

“But you haven't. Look at you. You're still mired in a pit of poor health and crippling debt. I'd hate to see what you looked like 16 years ago. I mean, really. What's the point?”

“Please.” Fat Amy insisted, short with annoyance. “Why are you doing this?”

Lambrick slammed his utensils back onto his plate, cutting the air with a sharp clank of metal on ceramic.

“Because I want to help you. Look... It's safe to say that drinking is what ruined your life in the first place, isn't it? So, what if... drinking again could help you save it?”

“What?”

“I will give you $10,000 if you drink that glass of wine.”

“Oh.” Fat Amy finalized with a chuckle. “No. No, no way, no. You don't understand. You have no idea how hard I've worked.”

“Ah, but Chloe here, uh, she just devoured a pile of meat, and she's a devout vegetarian, and you won't drink a little wine.”

“It's totally different. Why are you doing this to me?”

Bevans dropped additional wads of money on the table next to Fat Amy, with Lambrick bantering: “$50,000. If you won't drink... this decanter of the finest scotch that money can buy, right now. 50,000.”

“This is what, a test? It's not real.” Fat Amy was sweating beneath her formal attire, aware of how many sets of eyes were watching her.

“Oh, no... I am deadly serious, Fat Amy, and you know that I am.” Lambrick uttered with malice. “The glass of wine or the whole damn decanter. Now, it seems to me that the wine is... That's pretty simple, isn't it? But the scotch. Well, we could consider that a, a momentary lapse to... change your life.”

Fat Amy’s stirred in her seat, making out in a soft tone: “I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”

“So, what would you rather do?”

The blonde began watering at the eyes, looking at the options of alcohol in front of her. Lambrick’s gaze felt hot on her face as she reached for the fifth of scotch and ripped off the top with a quick pop. She cocked the container at Lambrick before guzzling directly from the bottle, taking several gulps before putting it back down.

Lambrick leaned onto the back legs of his chair, chortling with a slow clap. “That's a good time.”

“Thanks.” Fat Amy said curtly, taking another long sip.

“Bevans.” Lambrick called for his butler, ushering his staff to remove the plates form the table. “That was brilliant, as usual. My compliments to Marcel.” A few suited men cleaned the table within minutes before Lambrick stood up to initiate a toast. After a few taps of his knife on a glass, he began.

“Regarding tonight's game. Please allow me to alleviate any concerns you have.”

“We haven't already been playing?” Aubrey looked up at him in mild confusion.

“Oh, no, the game has yet to officially begin.”

#wyr #would you rather #bechloe #bechloe fic #bechloe au #pitch perfect au #pitch perfect #fanfic #fanfiction #mine

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celestialscribbler · 2 years ago

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Chapter 4: Luz Heart Part 8

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Side quest complete +1 friendship

@astralix13 @fullnewperfection @theydoesart @missingtundra16 @uhwhathappenedhere @zoop1995 @kataaitheskittle @fidelesir @mrek-inforg @ellhd-imagination @mekkysh @definitely-asexual-volcano @extremelynerdycat @dcat682 @kyotabasblog @fluffy23sblog @hugtime47 @sivsama @thecardinalcoven @moony221b @i-make-bad-ghost-puns @acaribeau @blue-demon-wolf @h0n3yd3w @ter-claw-thorne @existencebringsonlypain @autumn-girl-17 @that1randomnerd @ratherbeabrcharacter @eltheabberation @wackyattack @thecabaggewoman @herciawillstealyourgender @stuffjusthappensworld @violetstar250@angelic-anissa @toberz @nerf-cat @kasimba22 @nerdybullshit @soybean12 @enby-catgirl @mirajikan @the-lost-lights @maggotdreamz @all-hail-trash-prince @theonlythingifearistallbedo

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celestialscribbler · 2 years ago

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Chapter 4: Luz Heart Part 6

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A note about the tag list, I'll still do it if anybody wants to join but be aware tumblr has been increasingly bad with it. Like randomly it just doesn't seem to want to tag people. It may be a soft ban thing? You can also follow the tag: toh pit au or pit au comic.

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celestialscribbler · 2 years ago

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Chapter 4: Luz Heart Part 5

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Better then getting tossed off a bridge, right?

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celestialscribbler · 2 years ago

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He may not be the most helpful but whats the worst Belos could do?

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celestialscribbler · 2 years ago

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Another wholesome childhood memory where everything is good and fine and normal.

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celestialscribbler · 2 years ago

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Step 1 2: Magic shield. Step 1: Learn about magic. Step 3:-----. Step 4: Rescue Caleb. Step 5: Be hero!

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extremelynerdycat · 2 years ago

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THIS IS SO GOOD AAAAA POOR CALEB PLEASE BE OK

Chapter 4: Luz Heart Part 10

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Luz, I know its your sad hair from this episode but... it looks kinda familiar....

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artistic-writer · 6 years ago

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Alii dimidium Lunam (The Other Half of the Moon) - CS Werewolf AU - Ch 19

Title: Alii dimidium Lunam (The Other Half of the Moon) by @artistic-writer artwork by @cocohook38 & @artistic-writer

Rating: E (overall rating) for explicit sexual content, language and themes throughout. Trigger warnings will follow and be added as they are needed to avoid spoilers.

Art by @cocohook38 - Poster - Emma - David - Killian - James - Walsh - Graham - Liam - Brennan - Ruby

Chapter Art by @cocohook38 - Ch1 - Ch2 - Ch3 - Ch4 (NSFW) - Ch5

Art by @artistic-writer - 1 - 2 - 3 -

Also on: AO3 - FF

A/N: Werewolf Sunday! Here is ch 19 guys - sorry it’s late but I am back at work now, and I forgot to queue it up!

Taglist: @cssns @resident-of-storybrooke @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @hookedonapirate @winterbaby89 @courtorderedcake @initiala @cocohook38 @branlovesouat @teamhook @snidgetsafan @sherlockianwhovian @shireness-says @wingedlioness @lenfaz @therooksshiningknight @ilovemesomekillianjones @bmbbcs4evr @blowmiakisscolin @deathbycaptainswan @onceuponaprincessworld @chinawoodfan @seriouslyhooked @snowbellewells @wordsmith-storyweaver @jennjenn615 @delightfully-difficult-pirate @doodlelolly0910 @tiganasummertree @hookedmom @thejollyroger-writer @rachie1940 @unworried-corsair @cs-forlife

Want to be tagged/untagged? TELL ME HERE

——————————————————————————————

“To Graham and Ruby!” Brennan declared loudly, arm raised above his head and a small, glass tumbler in his hand. The amber liquid swirled in the glass, and the sound of ice cubes clinking the side of glasses echoed in their corner of the pub as Liam and Killian joined him in his toast.

“Graham and Ruby!” Liam echoed gleefully.

“To Graham and Ruby,” Killian repeated quietly, his voice a soft whisper next to his brother’s. He was happy for his friends, he really was, but he was also now sitting in a public place with his brother and his father, so his anxiety was a little spiked. He gave his father a suspicious sideways glance as he threw his head back and swallowed the rum in his glass, the burn of the liquid causing a warmth in the pit of his stomach.

Three glasses hit the dark wooden table together, years of grime evident in the thickness of the lacklustre varnish coat. It was patchy, shiny in places where others were dull and Killian tapped his outstretched arm at the spot next to his glass. His focus was on his fingertip, the nail digging into the soft table top where it really shouldn’t, and he ground his back teeth a little as a silence fell over their table.

“So,” Brennan began, twisting his body in the chair next to Killian’s so he was facing his son.

Killian knew what was coming and he held up his hand to cut him off, his pointed finger turning into a balled fist instantly. “Please, don’t apologise again,” he bit out.

“Killian,” Liam admonished, a frown on his face. “Not here,” he warned gently, scooting his chair forward under the table when a gaggle of humans sauntered past laughing.

“Look, Killian, you asked me here, remember? I can just as easily not be here.” Brennan looked to Liam for help with his wayward youngest, but neither had time to say a word before Killian snapped again.

“Oh, that’s what you are good at, isn’t it? Running away.” Killian slumped back in his chair, fist balling even harder on the table, leg twitching under the table and bobbing up and down on the ball of his foot.

“Okay, let’s all just calm down for a second. Shall I get us some more drinks?” Liam pushed himself to his feet, pausing to await Killian’s response. He was met with silence, his brother clearly haunted by not only his past but also more recent events.

“I’m not sure that would be wise.” Brennan shook his head, pointing at Killian accusingly. They had been in the pub some hours, firstly to celebrate the birth of Davin and then, once the excitement had dissipated, to talk over Kilian’s plan.

Killian had wanted answers. He was convinced his father’s mistakes could change his future, teaching him how to avoid the council and allow him to be with Emma. Only, his father had given him nothing more than the cold, hard realisation that the more he tried, the less likely it would ever be that he could be with Emma. Maybe if she was a lesser wolf, but the heir to Misthaven would never be able to simply disappear. “I think your brother has had enough,” Brennan whispered low, his words directed at Liam.

“I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough!” Killian’s voice boomed over the table and the barman shot them a look. “Maybe you should get some more drinks, Liam,” Killian spat, waving an arm towards the bar. “Father might not return if he goes.” Liam sighed, rolling his eyes at his brother’s childish antics and gave his father a knowing nod before making his way to the bar. Brennan watched him go, his demeanour and patience for Killian wearing thin.

“Now, see here, boy,” Brennan growled, leaning over and grabbing Killian by the head. His hand splayed out over the younger wolf’s skull, fingers digging into the thin covering of flesh painfully, and Killian tried to pull away uselessly. “I’m sorry I don’t have the answers you want,” he growled into Killian’s ear, eyes flicking around the pub in case anyone was watching. “But if you want to play this little dominance act, then I would be more than willing to take this outside.” Killian gave his father a sideways glance, their ears touching, and Killian turned his head away from his father’s stare as best he could in his position. “Better,” Brennan said softly, loosening his grip.

“Get off of me,” Killian spat through clenched teeth, wrenching his head from his father’s grip.

Brennan cocked his head sideways, taking in his broken son. Scars, fresh and old, littered Killian’s body from what he could see, and his heart softened instantly. Brennan had known bigger, pureblood wolves with less marks than his son. Killian’s fury was justified, his frustrations even more so. Brennan understood how he just wanted to be with the woman he loved, he had known that feeling, but he also knew Killian was trying to distract himself from the mental scars of being tortured.

It wasn’t his fault. He was half human after all.

“Killian, I can help you be a better wolf,” Brennan coaxed. “Faster and stronger. You can protect yourself, for next time.”

Killian stifled a laugh. “I don’t plan on being tortured again any time soon.”

“Of course not, but…” Brennan didn’t have time to finish his sentence before Killian cut him off anger, his words venomous and spiteful.

“It’s clear you cannot help me with what I need, so stop trying to find ways to bond with me. We are not the same, we never will be. Liam might have forgiven you for breaking our mother’s heart, but you would have to really sacrifice to win my trust.”

“Is your hatred for me or Neverland right now?” Brennan asked gently, trying to pull his son out of his rage. “Or do you just hate wolves?” he suggested, watching Killian flinch at his words.

Killian looked up at his father, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he ground his teeth once more. He was void of expression, the cold, dark stare he was giving his father full of resentment that he couldn’t control. Killian’s inner wolf was channelling his rage and Emma had unlocked the beast, paving the way for his true nature to reveal itself, and whilst it was a human-like wolf for her, he seemed unable to contain his wolfish humanity right now. Killian had thought he was okay with his father, had thought he understood the reasons behind his departure, but as it turned out, he was no closer to being able to welcome him with open arms than he had first thought.

“The only pureblood I’ve seen you tolerate is Humbert,” Brennan sighed, waving a hand at Killian.

“He saved my life,” Killian growled defensively.

“He’s still a purebred, Killian. A big, bad wolf who has done his fair share of killing for his pack. He might have been your savior, but tell me,” Brennan pried, leaning forward until his elbows were resting on the table. He laced his fingers and licked his lips, eyebrows arching on his forehead. “Do you not see how we are all the same?”

“I’m nothing like you. You made Liam and I without a second thought. If you had cared, you would have just left our mother alone and not forced us into this life.” Killian’s cheeks flushed with his anger, pricking pink under his assaulting words, his voice low and even so only a Were could hear.

“So we’re all monsters,” Brennan surmised sarcastically.

“No, not all pureblood wolves are monsters,” Killian grumbled with a shake of his head.

“Of course,” Brennan nodded with realisation. “The Nolan wolf. Emma.”

“Don’t you say her name,” Killian challenged, looking his father up and down from across the table, sizing up his potential opponent for battle. “Blood doesn’t matter with us…”

“And it didn’t with your mother and I,” Brennan interrupted. “And yet, we were ripped apart. Forced apart by the powers that be, the powers that govern our kind.” Killian shot him another look, nostrils flaring. “Her kind, Killian. She is a pureblood.”

“We’ll find a way to be together,” Killian said defiantly. “I will not fail where you have. I will fight for love.”

“Listen to you. You think Nolan will accept you because his daughter loves you? You’re wrong, Killian, and you’re going to get yourself killed.”

“I’m willing to die for love,” Killian said in a shaky breath, swallowing hard when his own words took him by surprise. “For some of us, love is more powerful than fear.”

“Is that what you think me leaving you, your brother and the woman I loved was?” Brennan snorted a laugh, slamming his hand down on the sticky table surface. “It wasn’t fear, my boy, it was sacrifice. I sacrificed my love, so that you could all survive.” Brennan’s ear tips turned red, something Killian knew that his own did when he was riled. “You may not believe it, but I love you, Killian. You are my son, and I love you.”

Killian was taken back by his father’s words, the air leaving his lungs and his face paling. He had waited his entire life to hear those words from his father, hear them actually spoken to him rather than in a general passing comment from his mother or brother. It shook him. He wasn’t ready to hear it. “Prove it,” he whimpered, his gruff voice shaking as tears pricked at his eyes. Brennan’s silence spoke volumes and Killian licked his lips, sucking in a defeated breath.

Killian pushed himself to his feet, stopping to look upon his father who was staring at his empty glass in contemplation. Of what Killian didn’t know, but he had given him enough of his time. He needed to get back to Emma, back to Liam’s loft and be with her, to make sure she was safe. He felt like only he could keep her safe but before he could make a move to exit the pub, his father grabbed his forearm and halted him in his tracks.

“Wait,” Brennan said desperately, flicking his gaze up to Killian with pleading eyes. The conflict on Brennan’s features made him frown and Killian titled his head curiously. “There is a plan,” Brennan began, his voice hushed. He tugged on Killian’s arm until his son sat back in his chair, just as Liam arrived back to the table with three fresh rums.

“What plan?” Liam asked dumbly, repeating the tail end of the conversation he had just walked in on.

“Hush, boy,” Brennan whispered gruffly, pulling Liam into his seat too. He leaned forward, chin inches from the grimy table top and both Liam and Killian mirrored his actions. “There is a plan to attack Misthaven,” he admitted, casting a glance around the bar in case they had been followed.

“What? When?” Killian demanded, sitting back up with panic in his eyes. If Misthaven was to be attacked, Emma had to know.

“Soon,” Brennan told him. “I’m sorry, that’s all I know.”

“And how can we trust a Neverland wolf?” Killian growled, wrinkling his nose in disgust and shooting Liam a glance. “After everything.”

“Killian, I didn’t know! Do you think I would have let him do those things to you if I had known you were his target?” Brennan bellowed, exasperated. “Walsh’s orders were to find the Nolan bitch but he got caught up in revenge. He has never stopped talking about how he would kill the wolf who gave him that scar.” Brennan's lips twitched into a proud smile that quickly faded away when he realised what he had said, and to who. “I didn’t mean…”

“Emma should know,” Liam insisted, distracting Killian from berating his father for his choice of words. Liam’s hand on his shoulder shook him roughly and he was confused for a second at Liam’s words. “She should go back to Misthaven.”

Killian snorted a laugh. “You’d both like that, wouldn’t you?”

“To warn her family!” Liam told him, irritated. “Family is important, Killian.” Liam stared at him, his blue eyes flecked with grey that spoke to years of knowledge that Killian would only hope to acquire. Liam was older and he had lived more, loved more and lost more than anyone he knew. “It’s why you can’t go with her,” Liam shook his head defiantly. “You have to warn her and then stay away, lie low.”

“Like hell I will!” Killian barked.

“He’s right,” Brennan piped up. “You will not be welcome at Misthaven. The alpha will kill you because of what you are. You’ll never be accepted.”

Killian looked between the two men, both fatigued and haggard, the lines on their faces from a combination of the sun and long years of worrying. Brennan most likely always worried about Killian, always wondering if he had survived his first change as Liam had. Wondering if he was as strong. Liam had aged through worrying for his brother, watched him try to find out who he was through fight after fight until his brawl with Walsh opened his eyes to his true nature. Killian had nearly killed Walsh that night, teeth stained red with blood as they had fled and Killian simply smiling with an arrogance that showed exactly how close his wolf nature was to taking over. It had chilled Liam to the bone at what his brother was capable of.

“I’ll take my chances at Misthaven. Can’t be as bad as what Neverland did to me,” he said sadly.

“Jesus, Killian,” Liam scolded. “Now is not the time to be stubbornly blinded by love, or lust, or whatever Emma’s heat is doing to you.”

“I’m not,” Killian bit out again.

“Then drop the hero complex and see sense!” Liam pleaded.

“This isn’t about being a hero, it’s about doing the right thing.” Killian pushed himself to his feet once more and straightened his jacket. “If you want to help, you’ll find out exactly when the attack is,” Killian said to his father, who nodded in agreement. “And help Graham get Ruby and Davin to a safe place,” he said to Liam. “If we can warn Misthaven before the attack, we could be spared.”

“This is madness,” Liam sighed into his hands, dragging his hands down his face. “David Nolan will never spare a mongrel. He exiled his own brother!”

“I have to try,” Killian said sadly, giving his brother a tight lipped smile.

Emma was beginning to worry. Killian had been gone for over three hours, talking with his father and Liam in a nearby pub. It was within walking distance but anything could’ve happened to him on his way back. Were they ambushed? Had Walsh finally found them? And why, after so long, had her lust not dissipated? Wolf heats were only supposed to last a few days at most, but it seemed Emma’s was hanging around.

And this time it was more intense than any before. It was definitely because of Killian, Emma had no doubt. From the second she had laid eyes on him in the bar, she was smitten. Using alcohol to lower their inhibition enough to fuck on his car was nothing, something she had done many times before, only this time it felt different. It felt real, warm, and she never wanted to feel any other way.

They were connected, Emma knew it and so did Killian. Whether they believed in the fates or not, there were just too many coincidences to prove their souls were anything but entwined. Emma could feel Killian all the time, his presence forever there, even when he was not. It calmed her a little to know she still felt him in the world, her heart beating in time with his wherever he happened to be, but her anxiety had been steadily growing as she awaited his return.

And it didn’t help that she was horny as hell.

When she finally heard the click of the door latch, Emma was on her feet and running to the door as fast as her legs would carry her. Killian had barely closed the door behind himself when he turned and was slammed into full force by Emma, all of the breath leaving his lungs from the impact as she jumped into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist. Her hands were in his hair, her mouth sliding against his as he walked them back into the loft, hands cupping her behind and holding her aloft. There wasn’t an inch between their bodies, Emma flattening herself to his chest and moaning against his mouth when her nipples pebbled against the fabric of her blouse, her back arching for more friction and her mouth parting to invite his tongue inside of her own.

Killian’s mind was in a fog. Everything he had meant to tell her had disappeared the second he opened the door and was overpowered by her scent. Emma was everywhere, in every room and he was immediately turned on, his thoughts invaded by their antics earlier that day. He knew his anger from talking to his father would evaporate with her love, love he craved like the air he breathed. He had needed to touch her, needed to feel her, needed to see her, and now she was all over him, saying everything all at once without uttering a single word.

Killian’s legs hit the edge of Liam’s couch and he fell forward, dropping Emma from his grasp, her fingers scraping through Killian’s scruffy beard and her lips tearing from his. She just had the foresight to grab onto his belt, looping her finger behind the leather strap and pulling him with her, his arms flying out to stop his descent so he didn’t crush her. Killian clambered over the couch arm, a sly smirk across his lips as he captured her mouth once more, tongue begging for entry immediately. His hands found the edges of her blouse, buttons flying in all directions when he pulled the opposing sides apart. Emma squeaked in delight.

Eyes closed, her hands threaded through his beard once more; it was longer than when they had met, but not distracting from his stunning good looks one bit. Her fingers itched to touch his skin, but from her current position she was helpless, only able to find his elfish ears and give them a playful tug, her open mouth smile letting a short, salacious laugh escape against his. Killian raised an eyebrow, not breaking the kiss or opening his own eyes, not an ounce of distaste towards the way Emma was abusing his ears. In fact, he kind of liked it.

Killian awkwardly kicked off his boots, letting them fall to the floor beside the couch with the dull thudding sound of rubber against wood. Emma let her hands roam over his skull, fingertips dancing over the chords of his neck and across the width of his shoulders, his eager panting turning her on more than she had ever thought possible. Killian’s hands kneaded her bra clad breasts roughly, thumbs brushing over the hard buds beneath the padded lace and Emma hooked her bare feet into the back of his thighs in response.

Her hands found his belt, the clatter of metal the only sound they could hear other than their breathing, but as she tried to pull it open, Killian grabbed her hands. Emma was confused for a second, about to pull her mouth from his when, with a smirk, Killian raised her arms above her head and crossed them at her wrists, holding them both against the couch with one, powerful hand. Emma let out a little appeased sigh, her lungs screaming for the oxygen that invaded her chest when Killian slid his mouth from hers and began kissing her face.

He kissed her cheek, flushed red from her arousal, the flesh like lava under his lips. His kiss-swollen lips found her ear lobe and when he latched his mouth onto the bulb of flesh, all of the hair on Emma’s neck stood to attention and she arched off the couch with a moan. Her hands grabbed at his, trying to be free but not really at the same time because the sentiment it gave her to be controlled by a more dominant wolf was intoxicating. She bit her bottom lip, hips bucking up into his as he teased his lips down her neck and slid his searing hot tongue across her collarbone, gobbling up her bra strap with his teeth and pulling it over the curve of her shoulder.

Emma gasped, her nipples hardening even more in their padded confines, the material of her bra chafing against the peaks as she writhed and strained against his grip. She whimpered in her throat, swallowing a hard lump down that she had forgotten to until now. Her mouth tasted of Killian, the burn of second-hand rum hitting the heat in her stomach like a firework and igniting the throbbing sensation between her legs.

Finally, with his own guttural growl, Killian rolled his hips and ground his hardening length into the apex of Emma’s thighs. It was like a paradoxical relief for both of them, sating their needs only temporarily, both of them taking a second to let out a breathy sigh. Killian’s grip on Emma’s wrists tightened, his forehead resting against her shoulder as he fought to compose himself with a shudder after inhaling the smell of her skin.

“Exquisite,” Killian hummed, the taste of Emma dancing on his tongue.

Emma turned her head and pressed her lips to his forehead, the only part she could reach and Killian offered her a quick, wolfish grin as he followed the curve of her breast with his mouth, planting delicate kisses to her skin with each of her heaving breaths. He smirked against her skin when she whined in frustration, his nose dipping into the valley of her breasts and inhaling even more of her strong musk, the perspiration that had begun to form there transferring her pheromones directly to his senses.

“I am helpless when you are around, Emma,” Killian told her tenderly. “I could savour you forever.”

He took his time, dragging the tip of his nose across her breasts, from one to the other and back again, inhaling her, tasting her in his mouth from smell alone. He thrust his hips at her again, his other hand skimming down the side of her body until it reached her hip, pushing her into the cushions of the couch when she tried to buck her hips back at him. Emma pouted but then a devilish grin erupted on her face when Killian’s hand found his jeans and popped open the button, pushing his fly down and sighing with relief when his erection finally sprang free from the fold in his boxers.

“There’s my big boy,” Emma purred, tilting her head back up to meet his gaze and biting her lip hungrily. “So much for savouring,” she purred. Killian grinned, his tongue skimming over the ridges of his canines before he surged forward once more and kissed her hard. Emma felt her neck spasm from the force and she could feel the tingle of pins and needles down her elevated arms. Killian must have read her mind because no sooner had she shifted her weight beneath him to relieve the ache, Killian released her arms and moved both his hands to the waistband of her leggings.

“Mine,” he muttered against her lips, his tone dark and feral. It set Emma’s blood on fire and she was lifted effortlessly as he tugged her leggings and her underwear down in one go, his fingernails scraping the skin on her hip and making her cry out.

“I was getting worried,” Emma smirked playfully. “I was scared something had happened.”

“Hmm?” Killian hummed through a daze.

“You were gone so long,” Emma panted, frowning when she realised he had stopped undressing her.

In the next second, Killian was hit with a sudden remorse, remembering the information he had come back to relay to the half naked woman in front of him. The smell of Emma’s arousal, the sweetness like a refreshing, thirst quenching drink, pulled him in, clouding his mind. He was dizzy, drunk on the temptation between her legs already and with a frustrated growl and a last inhale, he stood and tried to ignore the pounding blood in his engorged member.

“What?” Emma asked quickly, concerned, propping herself up on her elbows. Her hair was a mess, wisps of flyaway blonde sticking out in all directions from static and her blouse hanging open loosely. “Killian, what is it?”

“I can’t,” Killian growled to himself, righting himself to his feet and turning from her with a blush. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, tucking himself back into his jeans and ignoring the way his erection still strained against his fly as he rebuttoned them.

“What happened?” Emma pried, pulling the edges of her blouse together to cover her bra. Her skin still buzzed from his touch, but something was wrong, something had happened and for a second she felt guilty about putting her own urges before anything else.

“I…” Killian began, his face turning into a grimace as he tried to will away Emma’s scent. It was everywhere, invading his nostrils like a temptation he feared he could not resist much longer.

Emma lifted her legs and moved to a sit, scooting to the edge of the couch cushion and reaching to the floor, pulling her leggings back on. They would never get any conversation finished like this, her so tightly wound and him even more so. She stood, raking her fingers through her tousled hair and shaking it over her shoulders, moving to him, feet silently padding across the wooden floor.

“Killian?” Emma whispered gently, her hands smoothing over the material of his shirt that covered his back. He gasped, tensing momentarily before he relaxed into her touch, her talented fingertips kneading the ripple of muscles on his shoulders. Emma pressed her lips to his back, the material of his shirt tickling her lips as she kissed his spine, her hands sliding down his arms and her fingers lacing with his. “It’s okay.”

“I can’t think straight,” he grumbled.

“It’s okay,” Emma repeated, soothing his self-directed anger as she wrapped her arms around his slender waist. “Have I worn you out?” She teased, pushing herself onto her tip toes and tucking her chin into the curve of his shoulder.

Killian’s laugh vibrated through her chest as she embraced him, his hands finding hers and holding her to him lovingly. “Not a chance,” he quipped. “I have something to tell you and I think it would be better received if we were clothed.”

“Oh?” Emma pulled back a little, heels hitting the floor with a thump as she arched her brow. “Will it lead to more enjoyable activities?” Emma teased, her smile lighting up her face only briefly before Killian turned in her arms and she felt the pang of sadness he was emitting.

“Not this time, love,” Killian admitted sadly. He took her hands in his, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles and watching the motion of his digits intently.

He was nervous, but more than that, he was petrified of the words he was about to say. Emma would want to return home to warn her family, he knew that much was a fact, but he wasn’t sure how she would react to the news that he had already decided to go with her. He knew it was a death sentence, his brother’s warnings had not fallen on deaf ears, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was Emma, his half of the moon, and making sure she stayed shining as bright as she could.

Killian knew, with all his heart, Emma’s light would burn out if her father died. It was why he was willing to sacrifice his own life for hers. His life for her happiness. Killian knew he would never forgive himself if he didn’t tell Emma about the plot to attack Misthaven. She had a right to know, to be given the chance to stop it, and he would be there, fighting at her side, regardless of if he were welcome or not.

“What is it?” Emma asked worried, searching his face. “Killian, you can tell me anything,” she assured him softly, her hand reaching up to trace the outline of his brow, easing the tension.

He let out a nervous laugh, avoiding her gaze again. “I’m not sure there is any easy way to say this,” he faltered, swallowing hard.

“Killian, you’re scaring me,” Emma said, her face paling.

“It’s Misthaven,” Killian said, the word on his tongue already like the seal on his fate. “Neverland plans to attack Misthaven. James means to kill your father, Emma.” Killian looked up finally, Emma’s pupils wide and the edges of her eyes watery with tears that threatened to spring from her eyelids.

“How do you know?” She managed weakly.

“My father,” Killian told her with a slight hint of aggression. “He is trying to make amends, prove he loves me,” Killian bit out, the term of endearment striking anger into his heart. Emma gave him a confused look, her head shaking a little as she tried to fathom his words. “It doesn’t matter,” Killian dismissed his rant with a shake of his head. “I came to tell you as soon as I found out.”

“When?” Emma managed, dazed with anxiety.

“We don’t know,” Killian admitted sadly.

“You don’t know?” Emma screeched, stepping from his embrace and running her hands through her hair. She paced away from him, Killian’s heart-shattering.

“My father is trying to find out,” Killian assured her, trying to appease her stress.

“Can we trust him?” Emma spun back to face him and he answered her with silence. He had been asking himself the same question all day. “He is a Neverland wolf, right? Why would he tell us something like this?”

“I can only assume he feels guilty,” Killian shrugged, moving towards her and catching her as she paced past him. He wrapped her up in his arms, holding her to his chest and that was all Emma needed for the dam of sorrow to burst, hot, fat tears spilling down her cheeks. She buried her face against Killian’s chest, clutching the material of his shirt, her hands shaking as sobs wracked her body.

“This is my fault,” she cried.

“What? Absolutely not!” Killian told her firmly. “This isn’t and will never be your fault, Emma, you hear me?” He pulled her from his chest, clutching her face in his hands and dipping his head until he caught her gaze. Emma clutched his hands to her face, suddenly child-like and weak, and Killian titled his head sideways sympathetically. “You hear me?” He repeated softly, offering her a twitch of a smile when she finally met his gaze.

Emma nodded. Killian had the ability to calm her instantly, smoothing out the tension in her bones with a single action. It could be his touch, or his smile but it was always him. Part of Emma’s sadness was the realisation that their romance was now no longer fun, the true nature of their dangerous liaison hitting her like a truck. If she wanted to stay with Killian, she could, but they would forever be looking over their shoulders for Walsh or the Neverland pack. If she returned to Misthaven she would have to do so alone and she wasn’t sure which option scared her the most.

“I can’t lose you,” Emma sniffed, her hand sliding from his and flattening over his chest. Killian’s heart was racing in his chest, she could feel it thundering against her palm, because he was thinking exactly the same thing.

“You won’t,” he said softly, his voice cracking.

“I have to go home,” Emma whimpered.

“I know,” Killian barely whispered back, his forehead resting against hers. She let out another heart wrenching cry and his closed his eyes, fighting back his own tears that would stain his face at any second. He took a breath, the air between their faces minimal and with shaky lips, tilted his head and planted a soft kiss to Emma’s lips. “I’m coming with you.”

“What? No!” Emma cried. Killian nodded, holding her forearms as she tried to step back away from him once more.

“I’m coming with you to help your father,” he told her, affirming the fear on her face.

“Killian…” Emma began, shocked.

“I know,” he said softly, licking his lips. “But I can’t let you go alone. When the time comes, I have to come with you.”

“But, my father.” Emma didn’t have to say anything else because they both knew what it meant for him to even set foot on Misthaven land, let alone show up with the heir on his arm.

“It will be okay,” Killian lied, forcing a weak smile. “Family is important. I can’t in good conscience risk yours knowing I could have done something.”

“So is love,” Emma said on a breathy sigh. “Our love is important.” Her lower lip trembled as she looked up to him with wide eyes, blurry and filled with tears that never seemed to end. Dark lines stained her face and Killian cupped her cheeks in his hands, brushing away the fallen droplets with his thumbs.

“Our love is the most important thing in my life,” Killian told her tenderly, fingers tucking some stray hairs behind her ear.

“So stay here,” Emma pleaded. “Please. I’ll come for you when I’ve warned my father.”

Killian appreciated her attempts at trying to find a solution, but he had already been over the scenarios a thousand times in his head, and there was no situation he could think of where David Nolan accepted him. Not a single one.

“We both know your father will never let you return to me,” Killian sighed sadly.

Emma’s sobs began again and she threw herself into his arms, hand finding the back of his head and pulling his face to hers. She crushed her lips to his fiercely, kissing him desperately as even more tears fell down her face. He kissed her back, his despair etched into his cheeks by his own tears, lips quivering against hers. There was so much emotion in their kiss but they moved slowly, lips sliding gently with passion, breaths hitching from their sobbing like they might never get another chance.

“He’ll kill you,” Emma whimpered, her voiced lace with the most sadness Killian had ever heard.

“He can try,” Killian teased lightly, his lips curving into a small smile. Emma pressed her mouth to his again, tongue tasting the seam of his lips, memorising the texture and feel of them against her own.

“Is this what the dream means?” Emma cried, breaking the kiss but pressing her face to his. “The names on the tombstones? Are they ours?” Killian brushed his knuckles down the side of her cheek, shaking his head.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Killian promised faithfully. “And I’ll be with you. Forever.”

“I love you,” Emma whispered on a sigh.

“And I you.” Killian kissed her again, long and slow, but he hated the fact that whilst he had promised he would always be with her, he didn’t know if he would be alive or just a memory in her heart.

#cssns #cs fic #cs au #cs werewolf au #cssns fanfic #Alii dimidium Lunam #the other half of the moon #killian jones #emma swan #wolves of misthaven #artistic-writer #temporary dog au #ch 19

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lastbluetardis · 7 years ago

Text

A Marriage of (In)convenience 4/4

This is written for the wonderful @perfectlyrose, in celebration of her birthday. I hope you like the last chapter, Kelsey!

And this also is for @doctorroseprompts‘s AU August, more specifically for their arranged marriage AU and royalty AU prompts. And there’s a sentence that fulfills @legendslikestardust‘s prompt ‘velvet’.

Ten x Rose, Arranged Marriage AU

This chapter: Teen, ~4900 words

Tensions at the borders of the lands of Gallifrey and Powell had been mounting for years. Desperate for a solution, the King and Queen of Gallifrey and the Duke and Duchess of Powell have struck a deal that they believe will restore peace to the countries. However, this deal involves the betrothal of their two unwilling children.

AO3 | TSP | FF.net | Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4

Rose paced the length of the dining hall as her parents met with the King, Queen, and Prince of Gallifrey. Her stomach felt full of butterflies—icy butterflies that seemed intent on skewering her insides—and she felt like she could be sick.

She spotted a book splayed haphazardly across the table, and the title was familiar: it was the same book James had told her he had begun reading.

James. Rose’s eyes burned when his freckled, boyish face popped into her mind’s eye, stealing her breath away. Her chest ached when she remembered the sound of his laugh and the way his eyes sparkled when he teased her and how his freckles stood out whenever he blushed. And the utter heartbreak on his face on their last afternoon was still fresh in her mind, as was that perfectly beautiful kiss they had shared.

The feel of his hands against her hips… The taste of his lips against hers… The sounds he made as they continued kissing. The memories sent a bolt of heat through her, but they also caused an avalanche of dread to fall into her stomach. Soon, she would meet the Prince of Gallifrey, and then his hands would be the ones touching her, his lips would be the ones kissing her, his voice would be the one saying her name…

She couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t. Her parents would be furious and mortified, but she just couldn’t marry the Prince of Gallifrey, not when she was so hopelessly and completely in love with James.

Speaking of James…

“Pardon me,” Rose said, approaching the servant who had been asked to wait with her. “Could you direct me to the castle library?”

“The library?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ve heard wonderful things about it,” Rose lied. “I would like to see it for myself. I’ll just be a minute.”

The servant nodded, and he gave her directions to the library. As Rose navigated the corridors, she prayed for James to be there. And she prayed that he would want to break off his own engagement to be with her.

She should have known better, considering it was a Friday evening and the King and Queen were hosting her and her parents for the weekend, but Rose was still disappointed when she walked into an empty room.

She could immediately understand why James loved working there, though. It was gorgeous, with the stained-glass windows creating an ethereal ambience as it glowed with the light from the setting sun. And there were so many books. More books than Rose had ever seen in one room. They were all lined on dark wood shelves, and she knew there had to be some organization system, but for the life of her, Rose couldn’t figure it out.

You can ask James later, she told herself firmly as she wandered to the lone desk in the middle of the room.

Her breath caught in her throat when she saw his desk. It was piled with books, of course, but scattered among the books were the various trinkets she had bought him from the market over the last three months. Tears burned in her eyes as she frantically looked for a piece of paper to write him a note, telling him she couldn’t go through with her own betrothal and that she wanted to marry him, but before she could find anything, the door opened. She stood up straight, ready to apologize to whoever had found her, but she found herself looking at the Prince of Gallifrey.

oOoOo

“The Duke and Duchess will be arriving any moment,” James’s mother said as she fiddled with his hair to make it lay flat. “They will meet with us first, and then you will meet with them. Then you will meet their daughter when we all convene for dinner.”

James clenched his jaw against the snide comment on his tongue; his mother had been reminding him of their schedule for the last two weeks, and he had it completely memorized. But he had already pushed his parents’ patience these last two weeks—he had needed an outlet for his anger and someone to blame for his broken, bleeding heart, and his parents had been an available target.

He had been moody all day, wanting to be left alone to brood, but of course he had been fretted over since breakfast, with everyone working hard to make him look his best for his introduction to his future wife.

The words burned on his tongue, and he never wanted to hear the words “his wife” in relation to him unless they happened to refer to Rose. But of course, that was impossible.

And so he quietly simmered in his anger, hurt, and resentment as he was given a fresh haircut and a new outfit for the occasion.

A servant entered his room and announced that the Tylers’ carriage had arrived. A pit formed in James’s stomach, and he felt shaky and numb as he stepped away from his mother and to the window. He glanced down at the front lawn and saw that a carriage was indeed approaching.

James let out a shuddering breath and ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

“James!”

He cringed, realizing he’d accidentally messed up his mother’s work on his hair.

“Oh, just leave him,” his father sighed. “He’ll just keep mussing it.”

His mother harrumphed, then turned to walk out of the room. Before she completely left, she turned back around to glare at James.

“You will be courteous and respectful to the Duke and Duchess of Powell, and to their daughter,” she warned, pointing a finger at him.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” James snarked, bowing theatrically to her.

His mother threw up her hands then stalked out of the room.

“James,” his father chided.

James scowled at his father, but instead of angry, his father looked… sorrowful?

“We really are sorry about this,” his father said gently. “But you’re not the first person to have an arranged marriage, you know. I was matched against my will to your mother.”

James blinked. “You were?” At his father’s nod, he said, “But you both look so happy together.”

“We learned to love each other,” his father said with a shrug, before he turned to walk out of James’s room.

“Dad,” James said softly as his father was at the door. His father stopped and turned back around to face him. “If Lady Tyler and I can come to some sort of agreement… If we can think of a way to stop the fighting… If we still agree to work together… Could this marriage be called off?”

His father’s brow furrowed, and James looked away; his trembling voice had already given away too much, but the agony that was surely projected on his face would raise more suspicion.

“James, the borderlands are becoming more unstable,” his father sighed. “You remember the fire that broke out three weeks ago?”

James closed his eyes and swallowed, vividly remembering the rubble and ash and the cries of the family of the little girl who had died.

“We need your help and cooperation, James,” his father said. “We need a united front. If the people realize you don’t want to help them, what might that feel like to them?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to help,” James argued. “Just… not like this.”

His father’s face pinched in apologetic sympathy.

“We will call you to the study in a few minutes,” his father said, then he turned away and closed the door to James’s room.

James groaned in frustration and helplessness, and he once again raked his hand through his hair. He couldn’t do this. He just couldn’t. His parents would be furious and mortified, but he just couldn’t marry Lady Tyler, not when he was so hopelessly and completely in love with Rose.

His heart was beating too hard and too fast as he paced around his sanctuary. He then turned and stared out the window and to the mountains beyond, where he and Rose had spent so many beautiful afternoons together in the marketplace. He could see her in his mind’s eye, her cheeks pink from the cold and her eyes dancing with laughter. He could still feel the way her lips and body had pressed against his during their last afternoon together.

A dull ache seared through his chest, as it always did when he thought about that stolen kiss. They should have run away together, like they had joked about. They could have run away to the sea and sailed off together into the sunset, and into foreign lands where they would be completely unknown and free, and more importantly, together.

Well, he wasn’t going to joke about it this time. No, he was going to find Rose, and he was going to ask her to run away with him. They could go anywhere. Get a fresh start. They could just be James and Rose, two people totally in love with each other, and they could settle down in a little house, just the two of them. Maybe more, eventually. James’s stomach clenched as he could perfectly see him and Rose in a little cottage with their children toddling at their feet…

He quickly dismissed that thought. He was getting far too ahead of himself. First he had to find Rose if any of his dreams had a chance at happening, then, and only then, could he allow himself to think about the future.

With his resolve strengthened, James wrenched open his bedroom door and crept through the castle, hoping to find his intended fiancée and put an end to this ridiculous plan.

Once he called off their betrothal, he could work on tracking down Rose and asking for her hand, and hoping she would be able to call off her own betrothal. She’d said her parents wanted her to marry for political gain… James chuckled to himself. Surely whomever she was betrothed to couldn’t possibly be more influential than him, the Prince of Gallifrey.

He immediately headed for the dining hall, where he was fairly confident his parents had left Lady Tyler to wait. But it was empty when he arrived. Well, empty except for the butler.

“If you’re looking for Lady Tyler,” he said when James barged into the room, “she went off to see the library.”

“The library?” James asked. Then he shook his head and said, “Never mind. Do not tell anyone where we are.”

“But, but sir!” the butler spluttered, and James knew the impropriety of what he had just said.

“That is an order,” he said through gritted teeth, even as he cringed inside. He had never liked ordering the household staff around.

The butler blinked at him for a moment, before nodding and bowing deeply. James turned on his heel and headed straight for the library. He paused outside the closed door and took in a deep breath, trying to remember everything he wanted to say to Lady Tyler to make it clear to her that there was absolutely no chance they would be married.

Knowing that he didn’t have long before someone came looking for him and Lady Tyler, he wrenched open the door despite not really knowing what to say. He stepped inside and saw a young woman in a burgundy dress with her back to him. Good. That was good. At least he wouldn’t have to look at her face and see her anger and hurt as he called off their engagement.

Coward, he chastised, but it was true.

James took a deep breath then tipped his head back to look at the ceiling, focusing on the intricate gold inlays as he began to speak.

“Look, Lady Tyler, I can’t go through with this,” he said in a rush. He heard a quickly indrawn breath, and his face heated at the sound. He hated himself for upsetting her, but he was tired of putting everyone else’s desires above his own—he’d been doing it all his life, and now it was time for him to get what he wanted. “I get that you’re here just because you were told to be here. Well, maybe you want to be here, I don’t know. And I know that you’re expecting to be married to me, and I don’t know if you want to be married to me, but I don’t want to be married to you. Not that you aren’t a lovely person. I’m sure you are, and I’m sure you’d make a fantastic wife, but not to me. I’m sorry, but I can’t. I just can’t marry you. I’m so sorry. We’ll figure something else out. We can still work together to fix the issues at the borderlands, but I cannot marry you Lady…” James finally tore his gaze away from the gilded ceiling and his breath got stuck in his throat when he saw a beautifully familiar face smirking at him from his desk in the library. “Rose.”

“Well, that’s a shame,” Rose drawled. “I hear you’re the most sought-after bachelor in the realm. Besides, I thought you and I had something really special going on.”

“Rose,” he rasped again, stepping up to her carefully, as though she would vanish if he moved too quickly.

“Hello,” she whispered, beaming up at him as she wiggled her fingers in a wave.

“Oh, Rose!”

They both moved at once: they closed the distance between them, and she brought her arms up around his neck while he wrapped his arms around her waist. He pulled her flush against him and held her tightly. He couldn’t believe it. Rose! It was Rose! His Rose!

He buried his face into her neck, and hummed when she smelled exactly like he remembered. She was soft and warm in his arms, and the sound of her giggles sent his heart racing with happiness.

He set her on her feet and scanned his eyes frantically across her face, willing this to be real. Her face looked a little different than he was used to, and he realized she was wearing a lot more makeup than she had for her afternoons with him. He still thought she looked absolutely beautiful.

His eyes raked over her exposed collarbone, and down her chest. Realizing his gaze was lingering at her cleavage, he forced his eyes to trail along the velvety fabric down her arms, where her hands were lost in her billowy sleeves.

His eyes wandered back up her dress and to her face again. He reached up and rested a shaking hand against her cheek, cradling her face in his hands.

“Are you…?” His words got lodged in his throat as he was overwhelmed with disbelief, happiness, and love. “Are you really Lady Tyler? For real? This is real? You’re actually the Duke and Duchess’s daughter? You are Lady Tyler?”

“Oi, are you saying I’m not good enough to be a Lady?” she asked, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Oh, no, no, no!” he said hastily, but then he saw the teasing twinkle in her eye.

She grinned at him, and he couldn’t stop himself from stepping forward and taking her into his arms again.

“I’ve missed you so much, Rose,” he admitted, trailing his fingers up and down the sleeves of her dress.

“I missed you, too, James,” she said, reaching up to cradle his cheeks in her hands.

Her palms were warm and James leaned into her touch. He covered her hand with his, and turned his head to press a quick kiss to her palm, before he reached out and cupped her cheeks, too.

He caressed her cheekbone with his thumb, and delighted in the way her eyes fluttered shut and she sighed softly. The sound stirred something in his belly, and he shifted his weight from foot to foot as he asked, “May I… would it be okay if I… if we… may I kiss you, Rose?”

She smiled shyly and nodded. He grinned despite his pounding heart, and he leaned down and tilted her head up so he could brush his lips across hers. Her hands left his cheeks and snaked around to the back of his neck as she held him closer. Her fingers scratched at the back of his neck and up into his hair, making him shiver with pleasure and delight.

As much as he wanted to continue kissing Rose, and to deepen his kiss with her, he was aware that they were kissing in the library where anyone could walk in on them. And that was very likely, considering their parents had probably noticed they were both missing.

James regretfully eased them out of their kiss, but instead of stepping back and putting a respectable distance between them, he rested his forehead against hers.

“It’s you, Rose,” he whispered, slowly nuzzling his nose against hers. “It’s really you.”

“I know,” she replied, and James shivered when her breath puffed against his lips. “I couldn’t believe it when I stepped into the room. You’re the Prince of Gallifrey. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

James chuckled wryly. “If I’m not mistaken, my love, you didn’t exactly tell me either.”

“‘My love’?!”

James jumped away from Rose at the loud screech, and he saw a middle-aged blonde rushing up to him looking murderous as his parents and a balding red-haired man trailed behind. It took him a moment to realize she was the Duchess of Powell, which also meant she was…

James’s mouth went dry as he glanced down at Rose, and realized they were still standing closer than appropriate, and that they had been together in the library for at least ten minutes, completely unsupervised.

“Er, good evening, Your Grace,” James said weakly, bowing lowly to hoping to ingratiate himself to the Duchess. He then spotted the Duke, Rose’s father, and he bowed once more. “Er, Your Grace. Good evening, sir.”

“Oh, don’t you try to act all chivalrous and proper,” Jackie snapped. “You called her ‘my love’. I just heard you. You two have already met?!”

“Yes,” James admitted.

“What?”

“When?”

James’s cheeks heated at his parents’ questions, but before he could reply, the Duchess of Powell turned her glare upon Rose.

“That’s where you’ve been riding off to each weekend,” she accused, pointing a finger at Rose. “I knew I shouldn’t have listened to your father! I knew I should have had you followed! What, pray tell, have you been doing together, alone? And where? Where on Earth could you have possibly met the Prince of Gallifrey?” Jackie demanded, placing her fists on her hips.

“The marketplace,” Rose answered, wringing her hands in front of her.

“The marketplace?” Jackie repeated. “The borderlands marketplace? When you know how dangerous it is there?!”

“It’s not dangerous, Mum,” Rose sighed. “The marketplace vendors and patrons are really kind. It’s just a few of the citizens that have the issues. I was completely safe. Besides, James was with me.”

Jackie turned her glare upon him again, and he shrank away from it.

“And again I ask, what were the two of you doing together, alone?”

“Oh, nothing much,” James squeaked, hoping his flaming cheeks and ears weren’t noticeable to anyone else. “Wandered around the marketplace. Browsed around. Shopped a bit. Sampled the food. In complete sight of the townsfolk, I assure you.”

“Mum, this is my introduction day,” Rose reminded, a subtle bite to her words. “Besides, I thought you approved of the Prince of Gallifrey.”

“I did!” Jackie exclaimed. “When I thought he was a gentleman who would respect his betrothal to another woman and not play around with the first pretty girl he saw!”

“Rose and I have not done anything untoward,” James said firmly, resolutely ignoring their stolen kiss in the meadow and the one that happened mere minutes ago. “Besides, it’s not exactly as though I wanted to marry your daughter. I had the fullest intention of calling the whole thing off today.”

“Oh, charming,” Rose drawled.

“You know what I mean,” he said, taking her hand in his and giving it a squeeze. “I meant to call off my engagement to Lady Tyler then go and find you, and ask for your hand instead.”

Tears filled Rose’s eyes, and she smiled at him. James smiled back, and he leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead.

“I never dreamed I would be so lucky as to marry for love,” he whispered.

“Well, you both are still going to have to engage in a formal courtship,” Jackie huffed, crossing her arms. But James saw that her glower had softened into something tender. “And don’t you dare ever admit publicly that the two of you had been having an illicit affair for months!”

“Mum! We did not have an illicit affair!” Rose groaned, pressing her fingertips into her eyes. “I went out to the market and made a friend! If you haven’t noticed, my life hasn’t exactly been full of them!”

Guilt flashed across Jackie’s face, and she opened her mouth to speak, but whatever she wanted to say was interrupted by James’s father, who had been watching the exchange with a delighted grin growing across his face.

“Propriety of your past actions aside, I take it you are more amenable now to your betrothal?” the King asked eagerly.

James smiled down at Rose, feeling so lucky and grateful to have her by his side. He gave her fingers a squeeze and brought her hand to her lips for a kiss, and he nodded.

“Yes,” he whispered. “Yes, I am.”

oOoOo

James’s and Rose’s engagement was announced to the public the next day, when James and Rose were spotted together holding hands in the Gallifrey marketplace, sparking a wide host of rumors. News of the engagement spread quickly among the kingdom and duchy, and it was hardly a surprise when the citizens of both lands were wary of the news.

James and Rose spent the next few weeks touring the kingdom and duchy to celebrate their engagement and to try to get the citizens as excited about it as they were. While touring, they also began to introduce the idea of the two lands becoming united under James’s and Rose’s rule. The people were even more wary of that news, but James and Rose vowed their loyalty to every citizen, Gallifreyan and Powellan alike, and they asked for the people’s loyalty in return.

Also as they toured, they began the wedding preparations. They made sure to hire at least two people for each aspect of the wedding—a professional from Powell, and one from Gallifrey—in an attempt to peacefully require the two lands to work together.

For the most part, both sides were eager to please the future King and Queen, and were honored to be selected to aid in wedding preparations. However, there were a few people who scoffed at the idea of working alongside someone from the opposite land as them.

“Fine,” James said breezily, waving his hand to dismiss the Gallifreyan jeweler who refused to work with a Powellan jeweler to design the wedding rings. “We’ll find someone else. Thank you for your time, sir.”

Rose bit her lip and watched the man stutter his way through a protest before he agreed to work amicably with the Powellan jeweler to come up with ring designs James and Rose would adore.

“Funny how people change their tune when the future king dismisses them,” James said happily as he plopped down onto the settee in the library beside Rose.

“The threat of dishonoring their family and business tends to make people more agreeable to a lot of things,” Rose said, curling into his side as he grabbed the book they’d been reading together.

But before they could get comfortable, the library door opened and the butler walked into the room.

“Ah, fancy listening to a bit of light reading?” James asked, wiggling his book at the butler.

“Of course, sir,” he said, before settling himself stiffly onto a seat opposite James and Rose.

James scoffed and rolled his eyes; he hadn’t been allowed to be alone with Rose since the night he’d realized she was Lady Tyler. He hated the need for a chaperone, and couldn’t wait for the day when he would be allowed to be alone with Rose for as long as he would like.

By the end of summer, we’ll be married, he told himself, and he went giddy with delight. He couldn’t wait to be married to Rose, to his best friend. He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead and opened the book.

Rose rested her hand on his, drawing his attention away from the words on the page.

“Have you thought about where we’re going to live?” Rose asked.

“Hmm?”

“Once we’re married,” she said, glancing up to look him in the eye. “I don’t think we should live too far in one country or another. It might show favoritism.”

“Shall we live in the borderlands marketplace, then?” he asked wryly.

Rose rolled her eyes. “Close, but not quite. I actually had an idea… I can show you tomorrow, if you’d like?”

“I look forward to it,” he said with a smile.

oOoOo

James and Rose walked hand-in-hand through the stalls, trying to ignore the servant and the several guards that both of their parents insisted accompany them on their ride into the marketplace.

They nodded at the various vendors they’d gotten to know over the months, and grinned when they saw the vendors—and a few of the customers—all looking at them, wide-eyed. Between their emblemed cloaks and the royal guards, it was obvious who they were.

“My Prince, my Lady.”

The vendor whom James and Rose always bought lunch from came to greet them with a low bow.

“Good morning, Douglas,” Rose said. “How are you?”

“Very well, very well,” he stammered. “Forgive me. I did not realize whom I had been serving. I hope you found the food to be satisfactory.”

“There was a reason we kept coming back,” James assured.

“Because of the sentimentality of it?” Rose asked innocently, flashing him a tongue-touched grin that made his heart flutter.

“Well, that was part of it,” James answered, giving her hand a squeeze. “Well, it isn’t quite lunchtime yet, Douglas. So until then.”

James bowed to the man, and Rose curtsied, and they grinned when the old man looked too flustered to bow back.

Rose gently tugged on James’s hand, guiding him in the direction of her secret idea. James frowned when he saw the path in the forest that led to the meadow where they’d had their last lunch together.

When they made it to the meadow, Rose turned to him with a wide, excited grin on her face.

“Er… I’m afraid I don’t see what you’re getting at, love,” James admitted, turning in a slow circle to survey the meadow.

“We can build a future house here,” Rose suggested as she looked away. The smile on her face was gone, and she wrung her hands out in front of her and said, “If-if you want that is. We-we don’t have to. Just a thought.”

“Oh, but that’s brilliant!” James crowed with a grin. He spun in another circle around the meadow. A few trees would need to be cleared, but the land was definitely large enough to build a home on. His and Rose’s home. The home he shared with Rose. The thought sent warmth pulsing through his body. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Nobody has been able to buy land along the borderlands for years,” Rose said, looking relieved that he didn’t think her idea was stupid. “So most of this is still under the rule of the kingdom and the duchy. We can start our own little town right here, in the heart of the borderlands. Encourage trade and settlements and business. Build the community into something strong and respectable. And we’d be nearly central to all parts of the realm, so it wouldn’t be a hassle to venture into Gallifrey or Powell if there are issues we need to attend to.”

“You, my love, are so brilliant!”

Overcome with love and pride for his future wife, James caught her lips in an enthusiastic kiss. But their lips had barely met when it was broken by a harshly-cleared throat.

James’s face was slightly hot as he stepped away from Rose, and instead took her hand in his. He brought her knuckles to his lips for the only kiss he was allowed to give Rose, and he hoped she knew how proud he was of her, and how brilliant he thought she was.

Standing with Rose in that meadow, James felt happier and more hopeful than he had in months, since he had been told he was going to be forced into an arranged marriage on top of the responsibility of fixing the borderlands.

But with Rose at his side, he knew he could conquer anything. That they could conquer anything.

He brought her knuckles to his lips once more before he turned to guide her back into the marketplace for their traditional lunch date.

#doctorroseprompts #legendslikestardust #perfectlyrose #ficandchips #dwfic #doctor who #ten x rose #au #arranged marriage au #my fic #and it's done!!#i hope you enjoyed this!

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