#this is the woman who like 7 years ago would wince or shudder every time i brought up the top surgery lol

[nexttothelamp]

...

[idy-ll-ique]

Hot Chocolate.

Pairing: Chris Evans X F!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Requested: Nope

Warnings: Mentions of blood

Summary: Chris Evans has seen this woman a couple of times before. Turns out, she's a good friend of Scott's, and the two brothers are supposed to meet at the park that day.

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! A lot happens in this fic and I hope it makes sense... Enjoy!

---

Chris paused in his tracks when he saw her. He had seen her around a handful of times. She was standing between two groups of men, scolding both the groups as the men hung their heads low in shame. "Now can we all apologize to each other and play nicely?" she huffed, placing a hand on her hips. "Yes Y/N," they drawled, the groups united and they began playing their game again— dodgeball.

A smile bloomed on Chris' face. She was the mother of the group. Every friend circle had a mother hen, and that was… Y/N, they said? She was the only girl in the group of 7, but just as badass as all the boys. "Chris, Chris!" He snapped out of his thoughts and turned to see his brother, Scott, running towards him. "Hey man." The two men hugged and Scott glanced around.

His eyes lit up when he saw Y/N. "Y/N/N!" At the loud yell, Chris' eyes went wide as Y/N looked over at them, her lips forming a smile so beautiful that Chris was rendered speechless. "Scott!" she exclaimed happily, running towards them. Unfortunately, she happened to trip over a small rock and stumbled forward, landing on her front with an 'oof' and a groan.

Scott simply laughed as Chris ran forward, terrified. He helped her up, offering her his arm. She clutched it when her head started spinning. "Still as clumsy as ever," Chris' brother snorted and Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. "Still as immature as ever. Be more like your brother, dude, he helps." The tip of Chris' ears turned pink as Scott rolled his eyes.

"Mind introducing me to your friend?" Chris spoke as Y/N dusted the front of her t-shirt. "Right, this is Y/N Y/L/N, a very good friend of mine. Y/N—" She cut him off by waving her arm in dismissal. "Who doesn't know Chris Evans? It's very nice to meet you, sir." Chris grinned at her. "Chris will do just fine, darling." Scott huffed at the nickname.

"That's my best friend, douche."

"And what about it?" Chris countered, turning to Y/N with a worried look when she groaned. "What happened?" he asked. "I skinned my knee and ruined my pants." The three of them turned to look at Y/N's legs; her pants were torn on the left knee and blood was seeping into the pants through the wound. "That's not a skinned knee, that's a whole wound!" Scott yelled.

"Well, now I know why it hurts so much," she laughed in defeat, leaning on Chris. "My house is nearby, why don't we go there? Get you cleaned up," Chris offered. "Boys!" Her group of friends turned to them. "I'm going with Scott!" They shouted their goodbyes to Y/N and hellos to Scott, getting back to their game. "You know the guys, too?" Chris asked his brother.

"Yeah, man, as if I'm going to let her hang out with just any group of men. Let's go to your place, can't wait to see Dodger again," Scott grinned. The three of them left the park, Y/N doing her best not to fully lean against the handsome man who was almost carrying her at this point. She had had a crush on Chris Evans ever since she became friends with Scott; that was almost 10 years ago.

Imagine holding onto a crush for that long.

How did Chris not know her if she was such good friends with Scott? That will forever remain a mystery, he thought.

"So, Y/N, what do you do?" Chris asked her to take her mind off the wound that was now starting to throb badly. "Last year PhD student," she answered, hissing. "Nice, nice. Which subject are you getting your PhD in?" he smiled. "Law. I love A Starting Point, I never miss an episode." She looked up at him, giving him a small grin. "That means a lot, thanks."

"If this is your version of flirting, change it. It's very boring."

Scott snickered as Chris and Y/N both gave him glares. Soon, they reached Chris' house and Chris opened the door. Dodger was asleep in the sitting room and Scott immediately ran over to the dog, petting him. Chris, meanwhile, took Y/N to the bathroom. "Take a bath, you have mud all over you. I'll keep clean clothes outside." She let go of Chris' arm and he immediately wished she hadn't done that.

"Oh, but uh… your clothes…" she stammered, blushing furiously. Chris rubbed the back of his neck, shrugging. "Don't worry, I'll find something that fits. I'll also keep a towel outside." She nodded and closed the door when he left. Chris went to the stairs only to see Scott standing at the bottom of the stairs, his hands on his hips. "What do you want?" Chris sighed.

"Ask her out, please!" the younger man groaned as Chris went to the guest bedroom, taking out the towel kept in the cupboard in the room. "It's not that easy," Chris muttered, walking to his room. Scott followed him. "Why not? You were blushing so much when I introduced you to her," Scott pouted. "She is gorgeous, I agree but— but what makes you think she'll wanna go out with me?" Chris startled when Scott burst out laughing.

"That woman has had the biggest crush on you ever since the first Captain America movie came out, okay? There's no way she is going to say no to you. I have to warn you, though, if you ever break up, I'm breaking your kneecaps." Chris gave his brother a shove, but a smile bloomed on his face when he went downstairs, a towel, a loose t-shirt and a pair of shorts in his hands.

"Y/N?" he called out, knocking on the door. "Just leave the clothes outside, I'll get them!" She called out from inside. "Do you want anything to drink? Hot chocolate, maybe, tea?" he offered out of the blue, leaning against the door. "Hot chocolate sounds nice, thank you!" He nodded and went to the kitchen. Y/N, when she heard his footsteps echo away, shuddered in pleasure.

Oh my God, was she really going to sit there and have hot chocolate with her crush and his brother, who happened to be her good friend? She quickly got out of the tub, wincing when her knee jolted with pain. Y/N grabbed the towel and dried herself off, careful about avoiding the wound which had not stopped bleeding.

She put on her bra and panties, flushing when she realized that the t-shirt Chris gave her was slightly see-through. She put it on anyway, also wearing the shorts. "Um, Scott?" she called out upon walking out of the bathroom. "Yes, babe?" he yelled from the sitting room and she walked outside, sitting next to him. "Did you not clean your wound?" Scott sighed when he saw her knee.

"It won't stop bleeding, I think I have to bandage it," she groaned, leaning back on the couch. "Should I help with that?" Both Scott and Y/N turned to see Chris standing there, holding three mugs of hot chocolate. Y/N's breath hitched, he wanted to clean her wound? "That would be amazing!" Scott agreed with a proud smirk. Chris rolled his eyes at his brother and kept his mug down.

"I'll bring the first aid kit."

"Scott," Y/N hissed as Scott hurriedly finished his hot chocolate, slamming the mug on the table. "I just got an urgent text message, I need to go," he smirked at her. "Shut up," she growled when he got up, ruffling her hair. "Enjoy your date," he crooned, leaving the house before Chris could return with the first aid kit. Y/N simply sat there and clutched her mug, imagining it was Scott's neck instead.

"Where did Scott go?"

Chris blinked when he walked back into the sitting room. "He got an urgent text, he had to go." Chris saw right through the lie. "That bastard," he grunted under his breath but Y/N heard and giggled. "Language," she chided jokingly and he grinned at her, sitting on the floor in front of her. "Why did it not stop bleeding?" he asked as he carefully cleaned the wound.

Y/N moaned in pain when the ball of cotton dipped in antiseptic came in contact with her knee. "I don't know," she muttered, a tear leaking out of her left eye as he continued wiping the blood away. "Aw hey, don't cry, it'll be fine," he whispered softly, leaning up to flick the tears away when he heard a sniffle. "Yeah I know, sorry…" He shook his head as he tied a bandage to her knee.

"Don't apologize, I know it hurts. You gotta be brave, though." She nodded when he stood up, keeping the first aid kit away. He washed his hands and came back to examine his work. A spot of blood was visible on the bandage. "Feeling better?" he smiled at her, sitting next to her with his own mug of hot chocolate. He took a sip; it had gotten a bit cold but he could manage.

"A lot. Thank you so much, Chris, you're awesome."

"All my pleasure, darling. Wanna watch a movie?"

She shrugged and he switched the TV on. Y/N kept her empty mug on the table as he flipped through the channels, stopping when he saw that Mr and Mrs Smith was playing on one of them. "How about this one?" Y/N nodded and leaned back against the couch, smiling to herself when Chris rested his hand against the backrest, almost dropping his arm around her shoulders.

---

Y/N's eyes started drooping with sleep half an hour into the movie, the bath, the hot chocolate and the 2 hours of exercise in the park finally catching up to her. "Sleepy?" Chris chuckled softly when she yawned, rubbing her eyes. "I should probably get going or I'll fall asleep right here," she laughed, turning to get up but Chris grabbed her hand. "Sleep here, I'll wake you up in a few hours," he insisted.

Y/N bit her lip in apprehension. "You shouldn't walk, not when your knee is like that," Chris tried again, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth when he saw Y/N's expression. "Okay, fine." Chris smiled hugely when she relaxed against the couch. She yelped when he brought her closer to him, making her rest her head on his chest while he put an arm around her shoulders.

"I got you, sleep." Y/N snuggled further into his comfortable arms, not believing this was happening but not wanting to ruin the moment. Chris switched off the television, taking his phone out as he rubbed her back with his left hand, lulling her to sleep. When she finally fell asleep his hand rested against her hip, holding her to him. He opened the messaging app, rolling his eyes when he saw messages from Scott.

Did you two kiss??????

Chris smirked to himself, took a quick selfie of him holding Y/N in his arms, and sent it to Scott. The man replied within seconds.

OMG

I'm warning you again

If you break her heart

I'm breaking your kneecaps

You're breaking my kneecaps

Yeah I know that

Don't worry I'm not going to break her heart I promise

Good

Gtg fr this time bye

Bye

Chris kept his phone away for a moment as he adjusted himself; getting comfortable while also making sure Y/N was comfortable. Then he picked up his phone again, opening Instagram as his arms went around Y/N's waist.

---

"Mm!"

Y/N stretched her arms above her head as she opened her eyes, blinking when she realized Chris was not next to her. "Chris?" she called out, sitting up. No response. She couldn't even hear Dodger's bark. Where was he? She stood up and waddled all over the place, yelling Chris' name. Finally sure he wasn't at home, she groaned and plopped down on the couch.

She was alone at Chris Evans' house.

"Damn it," she muttered, suddenly spotting the three mugs that were still on the table. Well, Chris had shown her such wonderful hospitality, she should only return the favor, right? Smiling, she got up and grabbed the mugs, taking them to the kitchen. She laughed when she saw a mountain of dishes still in the sink; she was lazy when it came to doing dishes, too.

Taking out her phone and playing songs, she kept her phone on the kitchen counter and started washing the dishes. It was the least she could do for him after he let her stay at his place for— she checked the time; almost 5 hours. She had been here for almost 5 hours now.

"Dodge, come on bud, time to go home!" Chris shouted and Dodger came running over, leaping into Chris' arms. The man laughed and they walked back to his house. When they entered, though, Chris was a bit surprised; he could hear songs playing in the kitchen and the unmistakable sound of water running. Quietly tiptoeing into the sitting room, he peeked into the kitchen and saw Y/N.

He gulped; the sight of her wearing his clothes, standing in his kitchen doing the dishes for him was something else. She was singing along to the songs, not at all aware of his presence. "Y/N." She yelped and almost dropped the plate she was holding, turning to look at Chris. "You scared me!" she laughed, giving him a huge smile.

Unable to help himself, he strode forward, took her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers.

Y/N kissed him back, wide-eyed. "What was that for?" she whispered when he pulled away, panting. "You didn't have to," he spoke instead, running his thumb across her bottom lip. "It's the least I could do," she chuckled when he took the sponge out of her hand, keeping it to the side. He easily picked her up and set her down on the counter, reconnecting their lips.

"God, you're so awesome. Please stay for dinner," he pleaded after their 15 minute make out session got over. "Okay, I will," Y/N giggled, putting her arms around his shoulders. He carried her out of the kitchen and they sat down on the couch, Chris holding her on his lap. "Where were you? You took Dodger for a walk?" Y/N asked him as Dodger sat near the table, closing his eyes.

"I did, yeah. I also filmed another episode of ASP, you were out cold for a long time," he laughed. "I know, I haven't been getting enough sleep lately, this must've been the breaking point. Thanks for not waking me up." He gave her a kiss on the forehead, smiling. "Of course, darling."

---

A/N: Thanks for reading, leave a like if you enjoyed!

[fanfickittycat]

One of Us

Title: One of Us

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen (anime)

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Reader

Genre: Angst to fluff

Fic Summary: You return to Tokyo where you are reunited with the man who broke your heart a decade ago

Rating: T

A/N: my first Nanami fic!!! I love him so much. Just a simple one-shot about rekindling your love after being apart with a fluffy ending. Yes, the title is an ABBA reference, no I will not be taking any questions on it at this time. If you'd like to read this on AO3 then you can here otherwise the fic is below the cut. Let me know what you thought!!!

I’m lucky that I came back during the spring, you thought to yourself, as you meandered around campus. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom, and pink petals danced around your ankles with every step. Even the scent infused itself into the air, carrying a bittersweet undertone to it as you reminisced about your time here as a student. The sound of chalk on the board; the feel of the grass against your cheek as you hit the ground during training; the look on Nanami’s face when he rejected you and this world. It had been spring then too.

“You’re here!” trust Gojo to spoil a melancholy moment. You rolled your eyes playfully, accepting the hair ruffling from your upperclassman with weak jabs back at him.

“Gojo, stop” you laughed “we’re not kids anymore.”

“Says who?” he pulled away, adjusting the black blindfold over his eyes “you still look the same.” He teased, patting your head for emphasis. You still came up a whole head shorter than him and then some.

“You don’t” you retorted “you look old. What are you, like 40?”

“What?! You know I’m not” he whined. He was so easy to wind up sometimes. You half listened to him as he complained to you, citing his skin care routine and the regular comments he got about how youthful he looked before nudging him teasingly. The two of you walked back down the path towards the main building, feeling the nostalgia seep into your bones softly.

“You really haven’t changed” you said with a smirk “still vain as ever.”

“And you’re still as sharp tongued as ever.” He sighed, putting an arm around you “still. I’m glad you’re back. I’ve been waiting for an excuse to throw a party.”

“You’re a lightweight, Gojo” you said, remembering the time he had snuck in vodka during the winter of his final year. He had wanted to show off and ended up throwing up after two shots, before he passed out in the same pile of vomit. He had never snuck in alcohol again.

“You’re not, I remember you and Nanami having a drinking contest one time.”

“It wasn’t a drinking contest. We were just having wine and cheese. It was a very civilised affair.”

“You must have done a lot of that kind of thing in Europe.”

“Not really” you shrugged “it’s not really something to do when you’re alone.” You didn’t mean to sound so sad, but it wasn’t easy to hide, especially from a man with Six Eyes. You were glad he didn’t press you on it, instead opting to blabber on about how great his new first year students were, and his unmatched skill as a teacher. Gojo always seemed to walk the line between being insufferable and incredible. Nanami had often winced whenever he heard Gojo start a new tangent, and you would rub his back reassuringly. It became an unspoken gesture between the two of you. When you’d failed at mastering a new cursed technique, Nanami would be there to hand you a tissue for your bloodied nose and rub soothing circles on your back. Maybe that’s why your final moment together was so sad. You’d told him you loved him, and he told you that he wanted nothing to do with sorcery in exchange for a normal, human life. He’d left you crying, and the absence of his palm on your back made you feel colder and more alone than ever.

“…so the official party is at 7 but the real party will start after. Are you listening?”

“Official party at 7. Real party after.” You repeated “I’ll wear something that can suit both.”

You had wanted to ask Gojo if Nanami was going to be there, but you held your tongue instead. You hadn’t heard anything from him after you two had split ways, with him becoming a salary man and you going abroad to conduct research. You already knew that if you asked, you’d be met with disappointment. Still, perhaps it was better this way. You might actually be able to relax tonight and remember what social interaction felt like. You wouldn’t have to worry about what to say if you saw him there, or overthink the black dress you were planning on wearing tonight. You’d heard that even Utahime was going to be there. You owed it to everyone making an effort for you, to be present and gracious.

The nerves were still there of course. You were happy to see the small collection of former classmates and teachers there, and excited to catch up. It was strange to think of how close you all were once and then you’d left and avoided talking to anyone beyond a few words at a time. Now, the bonds between you were a little rusty but still strong. It calmed the butterflies in your stomach to know that everyone still accepted you, though Utahime scolded you for it. Your eyes kept lingering at the door, in anticipation of him entering the room with a curt apology about his lateness but then you’d catch yourself and internally reprimand your actions.

“You’ve always been too tough on yourself” Utahime said, sipping her tea knowingly.

“Sorry” you apologised lamely, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

She huffed at you “stop apologising, it’s not your fault that men are idiots.” She eyed Gojo, who was trying to impersonate Yoshinobu, and sighed deeply. It made you smile.

“Thanks” you wanted to say something more but the lack of social interaction over the many years constricted your words. You didn’t even know what to say, let alone how to physically say it. Utahime didn’t mind however and squeezed your shoulder.

“God, I can’t stand him” she said, pinching the skin between her eyebrows. You turned to see Gojo laughing obnoxiously at something.

“Still single too, I presume” you said.

“You know he could never be tied down and imagine that poor woman” she groaned “it’s best he stays single. Imagine if he procreated.” She shuddered, making you laugh.

Ieri joined the two of you, shaking her head at her co-worker’s antics “I’m glad you’re back” she said to you “being a woman in this line of work is hard enough, and then you have to deal with that.”

You smiled “I’m glad to be back, even if it’s a little hard sometimes.”

“You know” Ieri looked down at her drink that she had spiked “wounds take time to heal and it’s important to cover them, but you also have to take the bandages off at some point and let it breathe.”

“You’re wise as ever Ieri” you said.

“Hmmm I don’t think so” Utahime said, frowning “if she was so ‘wise’ then she’d quit smoking.” It prompted a whole conversation, part jokes, part argument between the two and then Gojo stepped in to see what was happening which led to him being verbally bullied by the two women as you watched on and laughed.

“You’re all being so mean to me considering I planned this party” Gojo said, mock snivelling “and the after party.”

“That’s true” you said, perking Gojo up instantly “thank you for inviting everyone.”

“We’re not done yet” he said, bringing a corner of his blindfold down to wink at you.

The after party was more chaotic than you had envisioned. Despite not drinking anything, Gojo still managed to scream-sing the lyrics to every song into the karaoke microphone, sometimes even trying to elongate certain sounds in an attempt to emulate Mariah Carey. Needless to say, Utahime was so irritated that she agreed to join Ieri outside while she smoked. You wandered over to the bar and pouring a generous amount of wine into your glass, feeling warm and happy for the first time in a long time. Of course, you knew that it was the alcohol primarily, but it had also been so long since you’d had fun. You were going to allow yourself to enjoy it.

“Didn’t you think I was soulful?” Gojo asked, his grin wide and satisfied like the Cheshire cat.

“Very” you said, watching out the corner of his eye as he poured himself a coke triumphantly “I didn’t even know some of those notes existed.”

He shrugged mock casually “sometimes it’s a curse to be so blessed.” You two continued to talk, laughing at the ridiculous things Gojo said as he sat on the bar stool next to you, leaning casually against the bar. He sat up quickly at one point, looking past you with rapt attention.

“What is it, boy?” you jokingly asked and when he didn’t answer quickly enough you turned to look behind you. There, standing cautiously at the door in a jacket and tie was Nanami.

“Finally,” you heard Gojo murmur but when you turned back to confront him, he had disappeared into thin air. You felt afraid to turn, knowing that Nanami had probably seen you. You felt your heart race in your chest. He was here. This wasn’t a dream or your imagination. The wine made your legs feel weak and shaky as you clumsily stood, pressing your hands down your dress to smooth it out. Your palms felt clammy as you did so. Downing the remainder of the wine in your glass was attractive, but you could already feel his presence near you.

“Nanami” you breathed out, swallowing nervously as you looked up at him. You had often thought about what would happen if you met again and you’d played the scenario in so many ways; one where you were cool and calm, another where you cracked a killer one liner; even one where you’d pull him in for a kiss that would ignite the flames of your relationship. Instead, you felt your nerves shoot through your body and you felt like a mess.

“Your hair” you said lamely, reaching a hand up before stopping yourself and letting your fingers curl into your palm in shame “it’s different.”

“Yes” he seemed taken aback by your sudden note on his appearance “I changed it a while ago.”

“It looks nice” you said, feeling warmth flood your cheeks at your pathetic comment “it suits you.” This wasn’t a lie. The shorter cut emphasised the sharpness of his cheekbones, which looked lethal in the dimmed lighting. He was taller too, if only by a little, and broader as well. You hadn’t anticipated that he’d look better after all this time. It made it hard to think coherently.

“Thank you” he said, “you look well too.” Disappointment already tinged in your stomach. He was just as strict with his feelings now as ever before. You both stood there awkwardly for a couple of seconds, wanting to speak and yet not at the same time.

“How’s normal life working out for you?” You asked, hoping your jovial tone would make things less tense.

“Oh. Well, it didn’t” he said, taking a seat on the barstool and pouring himself a glass of wine to join you “I tried to do it, but I couldn’t. Work is shit.”

Your surprised both you and he when you laughed “and what? This is the height of luxury?”

He smiled into his glass “no, it’s shit, as well but at least I’m better at it.” He raised his glass to you to clink “to this sorcery shit.” You smiled too, eagerly charging your glass to meet his. You watched him sip, allowing yourself to really look at him. Your eyes traced over his profile, drinking in the angles of his jawline and the elegant slope of his nose.

“I’m sure Europe was better” he said, making you snap out of your daze “at the very least, the food must have been delicious.”

“Oh, yeah” you said inattentively, thinking about evenings in foreign capitals where you fell asleep over your work with a half empty bowl of ramen next to you.

“It was interesting, and I learned a lot” you said, repeating what you had told everyone “I’m glad I’m home though.” You looked at him to gauge his reaction. His face was impassive as stone as he nodded. Dejected, you swirled the liquid around your glass, unsure of how to proceed.

“You were so adamant about leaving” you found yourself saying, the wine loosening your tongue “I’d never seen you so determined about something before.”

“I thought I knew everything back then” he sighed “I was so sure that I’d turn my back on this and work hard to maintain a normal life with a stable job, and money, and a family to provide for.”

You felt stunned “I didn’t know you wanted a wife and kids.”

He smiled without humour “well, something like that.” You watched wordlessly as he emptied the glass down his throat.

“I guess this line of work makes it hard to have those kinds of things.” You could picture Nanami in your head, in a dark suit and tie as he kissed his wife and child goodbye before going to work. He’d probably be good at it too. Firm but caring as he helped his child with their maths homework or opened a jar for his wife who would cook dinner for him every night. He’d dote on his family too, taking them to the beach and up the mountains or abroad. He’d probably keep a picture of them on his desk at work too. It pained you that he felt he couldn’t have that; let alone that you could never give him that.

He turned to look at you “well that and I knew I couldn’t tie you down like that.”

“Me?” you couldn’t have hidden your shock if you tried.

“You wanted a career” he said plainly “one that involved research into cursed objects and continuing to improve your skills and techniques. I didn’t want to take that away from you.”

“You didn’t even give me a choice” your throat felt hoarse as you grappled with this new truth “you just made that decision for me.” You stood up, feeling woozy on your tipsy legs but determined all the same to get away. You needed air, and the chance to absorb everything you’d heard. All these years you’d assumed he felt nothing for you, and you’d been so embarrassed and upset that you put yourself in self-exile because of it.

“Would you have gone with me if I asked?” he said, following you up the stairs and out of the basement of the bar. The night air was cold and crisp against your hot body.

“Would you really have given up everything because of me?”

“I did give up everything because of you.” You said, turning to clutch the sleeve of his beige blazer, feeling your heart palpitate as your knuckle brushed the skin of his hand. Tears pricked your eyes and you looked down, feeling the rush of emotions you had kept chained away in the shadows rear its head into the light.

“I’m sorry I realised it all too late” he said, and before you could think he had pulled you into a tight embrace. You fought against him at first, wanting to be angry with him for assuming things on your behalf and making you suffer so miserably for so long, but you couldn’t. You gave in, letting your tears blot onto his rich blue shirt. His tie tickled your cheek as he let you press your face into his chest like you used to. His hand automatically began to take small, gentle laps on your back. He whispered his apologies over and over again, finally pressing a tender kiss on the top of your head.

“Nanami” you mumbled, pulling away so you could look up at him. His eyes were piercing as they regarded you. One of his hands remained on your back, whilst the other came up to cup your cheek fondly.

“I love you” he said quietly, pink appearing in his cheeks as he admitted it to you “and I hope it’s not too late to say it, however I’d understand if you didn’t feel the same. I was awful to you.” He opened his mouth to say something else but stopped when you pressed a finger against his soft lips.

“Kento” you said, tasting the way his name sounded for the first time “I love you too.” He took it as permission to lean down, capturing your lips against his in a kiss that you had been dreaming of since you’d met. He was still cautious as always, not wanting to push you too much, but you couldn’t help but enthusiastically pull him closer, standing on the tips of your toes to be closer to him. You shivered when he opened his mouth to take your bottom lip between his own, sucking on the plump skin as you felt a whisper of wind snake around the two of you, depositing fallen petals on your shoulders like confetti.

[thebiasrekkers]

Make It Right [BTS Mafia AU]

Plot: “It’s always darkest before the dawn…” It’s a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: Series | Mafia!AU | Crime!AU | Angst | Romance/Fluff | Smut

Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC

Warnings: Graphic Violence (bloody violence), Heavy Language, Angst, Slow Burn, Smut

Previous Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || Admin E’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 3,239

Tag List: @prisczero, @pinkpjmin, @btsaudge, @flowerwrites06, @unoriginal-username15432, @halussali, @shrimpmsg, @ggukkieland​

AN: I need to quit fooling you people. Because the trust issues are going to get worse. Maybe this is a silver lining? Maybe? Yes? ...I’ll go away now.

Chapter 55: Sea

“Praying that we’ll remain in this desert till the end. Praying that this isn’t truly our reality.”

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Two Days Later Jeju Island – Seogwipo South Korea

When Taehyung first came to, he felt warmth blanketing his entire body. Every so often, a gentle brush of cool air passed over him. His limbs ached and it felt like a stone was being pressed against his chest. Breathing was a seemingly impossible task. When he could breathe, the sensation of phantom glass fragments scraped along the insides of his lungs. Coughing was a regular occurrence. Through said coughing fit was how he was able to pull himself back to consciousness.

For a moment, he believed he had, in fact, died. There was a part of him that even accepted it. But he wouldn’t have accepted it with a smile, of that he was most certain.

There were people waiting for him; people he would potentially be leaving behind.

The faces of his brothers and of the woman he loved yanked him from the abyss.

An old man sat next to him, moving a fan slowly over his body. Sweat seemed to cover him from head to toe and there was a large basin of ice beside him. Again, Taehyung coughed and tried to sit up. But the old man placed a hand on his shoulder, gently urging him to lie back down on the futon. What energy he managed to muster quickly slithered out of him, the weight of exhaustion overwhelming him all over again.

Had he actually died?

“Don’t make such a fuss,” said the old man.

The stranger’s skin was bronze from being out in the sun, his worn and wrinkled hands and face gave testimony to the life he lived. His hair was a salt and pepper gray, frazzled from being whipped around in the ocean breeze just outside. Despite his seemingly austere appearance and gruff tone, his dark eyes were gentle as he continued to move the fan back and forth over Taehyung’s prone form.

Taehyung squinted slowly, the light peeling in from the window almost blinding him. He tried to lift his arm to shield his eyes, but found it more difficult than he’d anticipated. Sensing his distress, the old man shifted so his small frame could block as much of the light as he could.

“Where am I?”

The question croaked from Taehyung’s throat, surprising him. Attempting to swallow, he mentally reeled at how terrible he sounded.

He heard the man scoff, a sympathetic smirk pulling at his thin lips. “My home,” he replied simply, resting the fan on his knee, “you’ve got the devil’s luck, young man.”

Taehyung tried to smile but realized it probably looked like a grimace. “You don’t know the half of it, Oroshin.”

He watched the man’s smile widen a measure. “You’re young, but I see you still have some manners.”

Again, he attempted to sit up and failed. The old man seemed to take pity on him, reaching out with his thin arms to help him. When he was up, Taehyung winced at the tight feeling around his chest. He rubbed at it gingerly as the elder pressed a cold compress to his temple. Willing himself not to shrink back at the sudden cold, his eyes wandered around the abode to serve as a distraction.

He could tell that it was the home of a local fisherman. Quaint, humble and quiet; save for the crashing of waves along what he could only assume was the beach nearby. The salt was prevalent in the air, seeping in through what cracks existed in the house. Even though he could feel the cold wind, the floor was warm beneath him.

“Did you save me?”

Dipping the cloth into the ice water, he wrung it out and pressed it back to Taehyung’s head. “The gods saved you, my boy. You were already washed up on the shore when I stumbled across you.” He watched his eyes shifting to his shoulder and Taehyung reached up to touch the dressings over his injury. “I managed to purge the toxins out of you.”

His eyes narrowed. So it was poison, he thought angrily, shifting his gaze to the space between his knees, Lee Jooheon, you son of a bitch…

Taehyung lifted his eyes to meet the old man’s. “How long have I been out?”

“Couple of days now. The worst of it passed yesterday.”

Even though he still ached all over, Taehyung quickly shifted to sit on his knees, bowing his head low to the old man. “I’m in your debt, Oroshin.”

“Nonsense. It’s human nature to help those in need.”

Taehyung raised his head. “It’s a cruel world we live in now. Your kindness is rare in it.”

“Your view of the world is too narrow, my boy.” The old man lifted the fan and smacked Taehyung’s wrist with it. “Now enough of this. Sit comfortably.”

He did as he was told, sitting with his legs crossed in a more comfortable position. “Oroshin, I hate to burden you further, but would you mind taking me into town? I need to get back to Seoul as soon as possible.”

For an uncomfortably long moment, the old man peered at Taehyung – as if gauging what his motive was. But there was only one thing on his mind. He needed to get back to his brothers and warn them of the danger that was coming. There would still be time for them to find Eden and return her to the place she belonged.

…at Jungkook’s side.

Jooheon’s words slammed through his body like a wrecking ball, causing him to visibly shudder. Taehyung couldn’t believe it now that he was lucid. How had Jungkook managed to hide such a huge secret from them all? Then again, they’d all been so busy anticipating the moves of the Jade Fangs that a lot of things could have gone amiss. Something as small as eloping could easily be overlooked.

That didn’t mean he was any less salty about it.

When I get back, he and I are gonna have a little chat…

“Well,” cut the old man’s words through his thoughts, “it’s a good thing this washed up with you then.” He reached into a nearby drawer and pulled out Taehyung’s wallet.

He bowed as he took it from him, opening to see the paper money was worthless. So were his cards. But his ID was still intact. That was the only thing that mattered. If he could prove who he was, getting money would be easy. He peered at the old man expectantly who raised his brows at him.

“I’m assuming my phone didn’t make it?” The elder shook his head and Taehyung sighed. Of course it wouldn’t have made it. That would have been the luckiest break he could get outside of being alive. “I’ll just have to buy another one.”

“Eat something and then I’ll take you to town. You can’t function on an empty stomach.”

Taehyung flashed him his best boxy smile despite the agony he continued to feel. “Thank you, Oroshin.”

After filling his stomach with three full helpings of rice, soup, and freshly caught fish, he thanked the old man profusely for his kindness. When he asked his name, the elder simply smiled and told him to come back when all his business was taken care of. Taehyung promised he would return to repay him for saving his life.

There wasn’t much time to waste. He needed to procure funds to buy a plane ticket back to Seoul. He would worry about a phone once he landed safely. Besides, Taehyung didn’t think he could handle the slew of missed calls and voicemails demanding to know of his whereabouts. He went on blind faith that everything was okay; that his brothers were able to find something out on their end since it was obvious that his own trail was a perfectly placed trap.

The flight back to Seoul was only an hour, but he felt like time crawled at an agonizingly slow pace. The time he had alone on the plane was enough to cause Taehyung to fester in his own guilt. He was angry at himself for falling for such a setup, and he was even angrier that he hadn’t seen it for what it was.

Maybe Hyungwon was right, he thought bitterly, narrowing his eyes as he stared out the window, we’ve gotten fucking soft.

But he stood by what he said. This wouldn’t have been a problem had they taken the Jade Fangs out five years ago. Sacrifices be damned. At least they could avoid the headache inducing bullshit they were suffering right now.

He replayed the scene on Dragon’s Head Cliff repeatedly. No matter how many times he thought about it, Taehyung’s conclusion was the same every single time.

…if I hadn’t dodged, whatever came at me would have hit me straight on. He frowned. They were really trying to kill me.

The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. Curling his hands into fists on the arm rests, he closed his eyes – attempting to stave off an oncoming migraine.

They would be dealt with.

They would all be dealt with.

Taehyung wouldn’t rest until he made sure of it.

Seoul - Cheongdam; Gangnam District South Korea

As soon as he landed in Seoul, he purchased a phone at one of the stores in the airport, activating it on the spot. There were several voicemails and he rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time to listen to them. Now that Taehyung could confidently say he’d met the Reaper at the Gates of the Underworld and walked away, the only person he wanted to see was the woman carrying his child. He had to make sure that he wasn’t dreaming; still sleeping from the effects of the poison.

Taehyung needed just a little more reassurance that he wasn’t dead. That he wasn’t already in Hell.

Hailing a cab, he gave instructions for the driver to take him to Raelyn’s hospital. The woman was so stubborn, insistent on continuing to work as her belly continued to swell with the life in her. Taehyung told her constantly that she didn’t need to work anymore, especially while she was with child. But she was hellbent on having her way and who was he to deny her the freedom to do as she pleased?

He’d have been a fool to try.

Taehyung quickly paid the cab driver, thanking him for getting him to his destination so quickly. He raced through the parking lot, up the steps and just barely clipped his shoulders in his impatience in waiting for the sliding doors to open wide enough to give him entrance. One of Raelyn’s co-workers that he recognized spotted him, her expression forming into shock before melting to discomfort almost immediately. He skidded to a halt in front of her, blocking her path as she seemed to mentally prepare herself to flee.

“Eunsoo-ssi,” he huffed, attempting to catch his breath, “where’s Raelyn?”

She averted her eyes, shrinking back from him as he took a step toward her. Canting his head slightly, he couldn’t hide the confusion on his face. She’d never treated him like this before. In fact, he remembered her playfully doting on him like she would a younger brother. This sudden standoffishness seemed a little unwarranted.

“She…” Eunsoo paused, taking a breath, before lifting her face to meet his gaze. Her brows were furrowed harshly and he could swear that her eyes looked glassier than they had just a few seconds ago. “She’s at the funeral hall.”

Taehyung frowned. “Why?”

“I’m sorry, I have to finish my rounds.”

Eunsoo quickly bowed, side-stepping him to disappear around the corner to the next hall. His gaze followed her as he was left in the main lobby alone.

What the hell is going on? he thought as he made his way toward the elevators. Pressing the button to give him entrance, he pressed the button that led to the mortuary floor where funeral services were typically held. Did something happen to one of their co-workers?

It didn’t take him long to make it to the funeral hall. Various other families were dressed in their traditional mourning attire and rows of wreaths with white carnations lined the walls. White ribbons hung from them, traditional hangul printed on them with the names of the deceased. He barely took notice of them, his eyes frantically searching for any sign of Raelyn.

The weight of sorrow that filled the hall was palpable, making the uncomfortable feeling welling up in his chest almost unbearable. He couldn’t place his finger on it, but Taehyung swore that a dark cloud of dread was hanging over him. He quickly shook his head, attempting to chase the nagging voices from his mind.

This was crazy. He needed to get his head together.

Just as he took another step, he stopped as someone dashed out of one of the rooms. He blinked when he realized the woman dressed in a traditional white mourning garb was Jimin’s older sister. She covered her mouth, smothering a sob, and Taehyung could only blink when she paused just seconds before colliding into him. It seemed to take her a moment to recognize who he was, as it did him for her. Her face was puffy and swollen from all the crying she’d done.

“N-Noona,” Taehyung stammered out, an icy sensation slithering down his spine, “what are you doing here?”

Her bottom lip quivered uncontrollably, her hands reaching out to grasp at the sleeves of his jacket. “Oh, Taehyung-ah,” she choked out, curling her fingers into his arms, “Jimin-ie…he…he…”

Slowly, he craned his neck to peer at the three wreaths lining the walls just outside the room she’d vacated from. He read the names on each of the ribbons draped over the wreaths. Taehyung’s heart froze for half a second before slamming viciously against his chest.

“No way,” he murmured, looking back at Jimin’s sister, “…Noona.”

Instead of answering him, he watched her collapse to her knees – a wailing sound bursting from her. Taehyung heard his very soul shattering as he pivoted on his heels, his legs carrying him into the mourning chamber.

It was crowded, bodies shuffling around as people cried or whispered among themselves. Taehyung didn’t bother removing his shoes as he stepped up onto the small landing. He saw Raelyn out of the corner of his eye. She was the first one to spot him, making her way toward him. But instead of relishing in the comfort of her embrace, the very thing he had so desperately been seeking out since he’d woken up, Taehyung stepped just out of her reach. His eyes focused on the three portraits situated on the table where various foods and flowers were placed.

“Taehyung-ah.” Seokjin called to him, but his voice sounded muffled from the incessant buzzing in his ears. He heard him say his name again and he still couldn’t hear it well.

All he could focus on were the smiling faces of Jungkook, Eden, and Jimin looking back at him from the black frames encasing their visages.

As he took another step, he saw someone move to step in his path – blocking his view of the pictures. When he lifted his eyes, he was now staring into Hoseok’s stern face.

“Where have you been?”

Taehyung continued to stare at Hoseok, blinking slowly as his mind attempted to catch up. He opened his mouth to speak and found he couldn’t find the words.

“We thought you were dead.”

The phrase shook Taehyung; rattling his bones. He visibly flinched, took a breath, then glared up at his older brother.

“Hyung,” he finally managed to say, his voice dropping a full octave, “what is this?” Raising a hand, he pointed to the side of him and gave a wide flourish to the entire scene surrounding them. “What the fuck is this?”

A hand fell on his arm and he felt Raelyn’s swollen belly pressed against his side. She buried her face into the curve of his shoulder, suppressing a sob as she pulled him close. His body felt stiff, like he’d turned into a marble statue. This was all some joke. It had to be. There was no way that any of this was real.

“How?”

“The Jade Fangs were responsible,” cut in Seokjin.

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed. “There’s no way that—”

Yoongi sighed gently. “You told us her location, Taehyung-ah.”

It was like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over his body.

“W-What?” That was impossible. He hadn’t been able to obtain that information. “I didn’t—”

“We realize that now,” added Namjoon. When Taehyung glanced at him, he nearly hiccupped at the dark expression painted over his brother’s face. “They texted us from your phone. It was all a setup from the start.”

Again, silence filled the small space around them save for the members of Jimin’s family who came, as well as friends.

“They’re gone, Taehyung-ah.”

Twisting his face to look back at Hoseok, he noticed his other brothers crowding around him in a semicircle. It wasn’t until his vision went out of focus that Taehyung realized he was now crying.

“What?” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “What do—”

Hoseok’s face softened, his brows furrowing before he closed his eyes. “They’re gone.”

The sun slowly set over Seoul’s cityscape. Lights blinked with life in succession, illuminating the darkness. Taehyung listlessly stared out over the vast expanse while standing on the hospital’s rooftop, lips puckered out while indulging on a sucker. He didn’t remember running from the mourning chamber. He didn’t remember banging his knee on the steps as he tripped over his own feet upon his ascent.

No one chased after him. They knew better. They knew he would likely implode if they did.

Taehyung didn’t stay for the cremation process. He would have thrown himself into the flames right along with them. Selfish? Of course he was. He was man enough to admit that all he could see was red.

Pulling out his phone, he crushed the candy between his teeth. Scrolling through the numerous voicemails left by Hoseok, he stopped until he saw Jimin’s name. His thumb hovered over his name, trembling, before he pressed down on the screen.

It automatically played the message on speaker mode.

“Ya, Kim Taehyung,” came Jimin’s voice from the receiver.

Taehyung’s brows furrowed, hearing the pained chuckle that followed.

“…you son of a bitch. How could you just take off for the gates of the Underworld alone? Huh?”

His grip tightened on the phone, feeling his arm shaking from the force of his hold. There was an uncomfortable stretch of silence before he heard Jimin speak again.

“Don’t even think about stirring up a bunch of shit without me. Jungkook and I will be there soon.”

Without any warning, Taehyung fell to his knees. The phone fell with a clatter beside him as his hands gripped onto the roof’s railing. His whole body shook, his silent sobs rattling through him. The tears that streamed from his face were hot and thick. He swore he could feel his own blood leaking from his eyes.

Jungkook. 

Jimin.

Eden.

They were gone. 

Mercilessly ripped away from the life they more than deserved to live.

Someone had to answer for this. 

Someone was going to answer for this.

“I’ll make them pay,” he growled, glaring at the landscape as he ground his teeth together, “I swear to your God, Jimin-ah…”

I’ll fucking kill them all.

[dahliawolfe]

Wylie

No exactly cannon, but some elements of the Wynonna Earp timeline are present

“Dammit, Wylie! I told you to stay put,” Doc rages, scooping the youngest Earp up into his arms. Blood is flowing freely from her arm, and tears are welling up in her big chocolate eyes. “Now, now. Don’t start that cryin’” he begged, nuzzling the top of her head.

Wylie was always getting into trouble. At 19, she had been in more scrapes than most twice her age. And Doc figured he wouldn’t be changing anytime soon.

…

“You could’ve been killed!” Wynonna rages.

“But I wasn’t!” Wylie argues, wincing as Nicole dabs her wound with alcohol. “Oww, Nic!” she exclaims, recoiling from the redhead.

“Sorry, Kiddo, but you’re pretty torn up. I’ve gotta patch you up.” Wylie pouts, looking to Doc, who usually folded upon seeing her sad face.

“Oh, no, Missy. You earned every bit of this,” he says, wagging his finger at her.

“Wave!” Wylie begs, desperate for someone to be on her side. Waverly takes one look at her little sister and sighs.

“Oh, Wynonna, she was just trying to help. Give her some whiskey to dull the pain a little will ya.”

Wylie grins at her big sister. She knew someone would help her out.

“I absolutely will not give my baby sister whiskey!” Wynonna yells, crossing her arms over her chest.

“But…But…Nonna, it hurts so bad. Please.”

“No. End of discussion. I’m going to call Dolls and see what he’s found out.” Wylie hangs her head, knowing she’s been defeated.

…

…

Wylie studies her phone, waiting on the text to let her know what’s going on. Wynonna had promised her. And she would text. Right?

“Kiddo, I’m sure they’re fine,” Nicole assures, taking a seat on the worn velvet couch by Wylie.

“She promised me. I can help. I’m not a baby,” Wylie says dejectedly.

“I know you’re not, Sweetheart. And so do they, they just love you a lot and want to protect you. That’s all.”

“I can take care of myself!” She’s beginning to get angry. No one takes her seriously, and it is starting to annoy her.

“Calm down, Wy, everything will be ok,” Nicole soothes, coming to place her arm around Wylie.

“I’m going out. Don’t wait up.” Wylie stands angrily and storms out of the house, leaving Nicole sitting, mouth agape, wondering how she was going to tell Wynonna that she’d just let her baby sister go off alone.

…

The summer night is warm, but the grass under her bare shoulders in cool. And it’s peaceful. For once. No one is dying. No one is fighting. And she’s not being treated like a child. Tonight, the open plains are her sanctuary. Wylie lies on the grass, looking up at the huge expanse of stars. She knows that they’re probably looking for her, but she doesn’t care. Because it’s just her, the bottle of whiskey she stole from Wynonna’s truck, and the open air.

Whiskey burns a lot going down for the first few swallows, but then you become numb, and warm, and fuzzy. And that’s where Wylie is at. She could almost fall asleep here. And maybe she will. Just for a few minutes.

Wylie comes back to reality slowly. Something in the air feels wrong. She’s still tipsy, but the haze of the whiskey has faded. And she’s becoming acutely aware that she’s not alone in her little slice of paradise. But she lays still. Trying to come up with a game plan. She doesn’t have a gun. Not even a knife. And her phone is at least 100 yards away in her car. What the fuck is she supposed to do? She could make a run for it, but she doubts she’ll get far. But what choice does she have? So, steeling herself, she bolts from the ground, running as fast as she can toward her little black mustang.

Her hair is pulled sharply, sending fire through her scalp. She’s yanked off of her feet. But not for long as she’s grabbed around the throat and lifted into the air. She kicks violently. But it doesn’t do much good. Her captor has turned her around and she can see his glowing red eyes. “Well, fuck,” she hisses. He smiles evilly up at her.

“Well, well, if it isn’t baby Earp herself. Pleasure to meet you, Little One.” Wylie is slowly losing the fight with consciousness, when she sees it. Her chance at salvation. She notices that he’s lowered her just a few inches to taunt her directly to her face. And her foot is lined up perfectly with his crown jewels. She gives a wry grin before rearing back and kicking him as hard as she can. He makes a sound like a gutted pig and throws her away from his body. She lands hard, hitting her head on the ground with a solid, “thwap”.

The world spins drunkenly for a few seconds before she makes her way unsteadily to her feet. She hears his boots approaching behind her, so she grabs the only thing she can reach, her whiskey bottle, and spins, putting the whole of her weight into the swing, catching him in the skull. He crumples, but unfortunately, so does she. The bottle has broken in her hand and her grip is slick with blood, but she holds the broken bottle like her life depends on it. Because it just might.

The familiar sound of boots approaches from behind her, and she smiles. Wynonna and Doc are here. Just in time. Because, she’s not sure she can stay awake much longer. She falls back into Doc’s arms just as Wynonna levels Peacemaker at the revenant’s head and pulls the trigger. Then she goes limp.

…

…

Doc holds her hair back as she empties her stomach into the basin in front of her. Again.

“Alright. It’s alright, Darlin’. I’m right here with ya,” he soothes, pulling her back into his chest once she’s spent. She sobs, turning her face into him and clutching his shirt in her fist. The combination of the alcohol, head injury, and near-death experience have wrecked her.

Wynonna comes back into the room and kneels to place and ice pack on Wylie’s temple. “It’s ok, Babydoll. You’re safe now,” the eldest sister assures. She strokes her sister’s arm and hums quietly. Wynonna had spent many nights taking care of Wylie like this. Wylie was Ward’s youngest, but the girls didn’t share a mother. Ward met Wylie’s mother, Rachael six months after Michelle was sent to prison. She was a drifter and after having Wylie, she ran off again. Wynonna had been the only mom Wylie had known. Hell, she’d been her father too for that matter. When Wynonna went to Greece, she wanted to take Wylie with her, but she knew that a life on the road wasn’t right for a kid. So, she’d done the next best thing; left her with Waverly.

͠

Doc makes his way to his feet, Wylie still in his arms, and she stirs, immediately clutching at him again. “Perhaps she should sleep with us tonight,” he tells Wynonna, looking down at the youngest Earp. He’d immediately taken a shine to Wylie. She was smart. Sassy. Brave. And would just as soon give you a verbal lashing as to look at ya. And Doc admired that. She seemingly became partial to him rather quickly too. The two were nearly inseparable now.

“Yeah, I suppose she should,” Wynonna replies, flicking the bathroom light off behind them as they made their way upstairs. Waverly, Nicole, and Dolls were all at the station trying to piece together who attacked Wylie in that field. And Wynonna wasn’t much for research, but she would damn well kill anybody who tried to hurt her kid.

…

…

The smoke billowing from his cigarillo clouds out the stars as he sits on the porch. Dolls had called nearly an hour ago identifying Wylie’s would be killer as Johnathan Witham. A pedophile that Wyatt had hung over a hundred years before. Doc remembers Wyatt telling him about the man. And the sick feeling of primal hatred he felt then is still present today. What would he have done with their little Wylie? Doc shudders to think. But Doc assumes that just as in life, Witham, in death served another master. And that scares Doc more than anything. Because that means the threat to his little girl isn’t over.

͠

The bandages wrapped around her bicep and hand, the stitches to her head, and the nasty bruises around her neck make Wylie look like she’s seen better days. And she has. Way better days. She’s tired, cranky, sore, and nauseous, but Wynonna insisted she come to the station with her today. Wylie hates being babysat. She’s a grown woman. She doesn’t need her sister to wipe her ass 24/7.

“Nonna, let me go home and sleep, please. I promise I won’t leave the homestead.”

“No. You’re under 24-hour surveillance until we find out who sent Witham to kill you.”

“How do you even know someone sent him? Maybe he came of his own free will.”

“Unlikely. Witham isn’t patient enough to watch you for that long without striking. Unless someone was there to hold him back,” Doc states, leaning against the desk in front of her.

“But why would anyone want to kill me?! I’m nobody! You’re the heir!”

“You’re not nobody, Sweetie. You’re very important to all of us here,” Waverly says, coming over to stroke her sister’s hair out of her eyes.

“I’m just saying, wouldn’t it make more sense to go after Wynonna? She’s their public enemy number one.” “They know that she would kill for you,” Dolls states, taking a sip from his X mug.

“Ok, but X Man, there’s a problem with that. Why would they want her to kill them?” Wylie asks.

“They don’t. Maybe they wanted to use you as bait and Witham got a little too riley,” Nicole suggests.

“So, they’re setting a trap for Nonna?”

“Could be,” Dolls agrees. “Doc, who did Witham hang around with back in the day?”

“Well, I did not know the man personally. But Wyatt told me that he found Witham west of Pike’s Gulch. That used to be the stomping grounds of the Warren Brothers.”

“The Warren Brothers?”

“Outlaws. Wyatt eventually hung them too. They robbed banks from here to El Paso. They  had a gang of bastards out there in those woods.”

“Interesting. Let’s find out more about these Warren Brothers, Haught.”

“On it.”

…

Wylie had fallen asleep on her, and she can’t breathe. But she knows the kid needs the rest, so Wynonna stays still. Or, well, she stays still until her phone rings. She knows it’s Dolls. It’s his ringtone. And she also knows she needs to answer it. Maybe if she can just reach…

“Mama, no,” Wylie whines in her sleep. Wynonna stills again, humming to ease the kid back into dreamland. It’s not the first time Wylie’s called her mama. And for whatever reason, it warms her heart a little. Every time. It makes her feel like she’d finally done something right.

͠

“Wynonna, why the hell aren’t you answering your phone?” Dolls demands, slamming through the front door.

“Shh!” Wynonna hisses, gesturing to the sleeping girl in her lap.

“We’ve got a beat on the Warren Brothers,” Dolls states, lowering his voice. He pulls a chair close to the Earp sisters and sits down. “Wyatt did hang the younger brother, Hank, but it was years before he caught the older one, William. Supposedly, William swore to take revenge on Wyatt. He believed that Wyatt had forgotten about him after he had been gone from Purgatory for nearly five years. So he snuck onto the homestead in the middle of the night, expecting to take Wyatt by surprise. But Wyatt shot him right between the eyes with Peacemaker and let a calvary into the Gulch the next day, taking out the rest of his gang.”

“So, what, Willy boy is still seeking his revenge on us? That’s a hell of a grudge.”

“Makes sense. Well, as much sense as any other revenant’s story.”

“You’ve got me there.”

…

“This is a bad idea, guys. Something bad is going to happen,” Wylie insists. She was expected to walk into the Gulch, pretending to sacrifice herself for Wynonna. And the others would come in and take out the Warren boys.

“Nothing bad is going to happen, Wy. We’ve got you. I promise,” Wynonna assures.

“Ok. Cool. But, maybe…”

“I could do it,” Waverly offers. “She’s my sister too. You both are. It makes sense that I would want to sacrifice myself, too.”

“No! I’ll…I’ll do it. I can do it,” Wylie concedes. She doesn’t want Waverly getting hurt because of her. Dolls nods.

“Then let’s get to getting,” he says, cocking his gun.

͠

The air is beginning to take on the chill of autumn, and Wylie rubs warmth into her skin as she makes her way through the woods.

“I know who you are! And I know what you want!” she calls, looking all around her. “And I’m here to make a deal! I’ll take her place!” Someone jumps from a tree, landing in front of her, nearly making her piss herself.

“Are you now?” the man hisses, the smell of death seeping through his yellowed teeth. Wylie steels herself.

“Yes. Now, take me to the Warren Brothers.”

“We’re right here, Darlin’,” comes a voice, as two men emerge from the trees.

“Well, you heard my terms. Me for her. Do you accept?” Wylie feels like she might spring apart, but she’s trying to keep it together and remain outwardly calm.

“Well, Sugar,” the younger of the two brothers begins, smirk lining his face as he stalks around her in circles. “I think we could work something out.” Wylie swallows through a dry throat.

“So, I have your word?”

“You can have something else, Earp whore,” he growls, dragging her to his body and  thrusting his crotch into her hips.

And that’s when all hell breaks loose.

“Get your filthy hands off of her!” Waverly exclaims, emerging from the trees, the rest of the family flanking her. She marches up to Hank Warren, punching him right in the face as Dolls, Doc, and Wynonna set about eliminating the rest of the Warren gang. Nicole leads Wylie and Waverly away from the action. She’s turned to check on the youngest when a revenant pops out from behind a tree.

“Nic!” Wylie yelps, already grabbing her knife from her boot. She throws it just like Doc showed her, and it finds its home in the revenant’s heart. He slumps to the ground, just in time for Wynonna to arrive and aim Peacemaker at his head, pulling the trigger, and sending the bullet between his eyes.

…

 …

After taking stock and patching up wounds, the Earp family sits around Shorty’s just breathing in the calm of the moment.

“The hero of the night gets a shot, on me!” Nicole declares, slinging a whiskey glass down the bar to Wylie, who immediately shoots it back.

“Hey! This is cider!”

[decandantfics]

Safe Haven - You are My Strength

The date was 30 March, 2019. The time, 3:30am. All was quiet in the houses of a stately Chiswick street. At least, it was until 3:31am. In one particular home, a couple lay spooned together, the man wrapped around the woman as quiet snores escaped his mouth. A small Dachshund lay curled up on a pillow just behind the man's head, and at first glance, the sausage dog appeared to be asleep. If you were to look more closely, you would realize that the dog's eyes were, in fact, open, trained worriedly on his master. On the outside, the man appeared to be slumbering peacefully. But that illusion was cruelly broken as he awoke with a shout, startling his wife as she shot out of his arms in shock. For his part, the little dog had scrambled to his feet at his master's shout, and was now whining anxiously as he took in the scene in front of him. The man had started sobbing and shaking within moments of waking, and was now being held securely by his wife. She was trying her very best to comfort and reassure him – something she'd gotten quite good at over the past 12 ½ months – while worriedly straining her ears for any signs of their nearly 7-month old baby having been disturbed by the commotion. Unfortunately for her – and her husband – a loud wailing was soon crackling through the baby monitor, drowning out the quiet sobs that still wrenched themselves out of the man's chest. The woman was now left with a serious dilemma – both her husband and her child needed her attention right at that very moment, and she couldn't bear to leave one in favor of the other. As her husband became more aware of his surroundings, he seemed to realize that there was another distressed person in the home, just a room away. Shoulders still shuddering with suppressed sobs, the man wearily pushed himself up on his elbow while muttering a broken, "I'm sorry," to his wife. Despite her vehement protests that she could go, the man simply shook his head and slid out of bed, shoulders slumped and eyes still filled with tears as he trudged out of the room to tend to his daughter's needs. The man was Declan Donnelly, and the woman Ali Astall Donnelly.

Ali's gaze followed her husband worriedly as the broken man moved past her and out of the room. Sighing, she knew exactly why her sleep had been interrupted tonight: the emotionally charged interview her husband and his best friend had given was being released in The Guardian later that morning. Dec had had a particularly tough time of it in the nights immediately prior to and especially following the interview – the wounds of the past year having been reopened as he was forced to relive what he had gone through. Dec had been so incredibly drained by the time he arrived home after the interview – deep lines of exhaustion and sadness marking his face in grim resemblance to how he had looked almost every single day in 2018 after his life had been turned upside down. He was so utterly exhausted that he'd not even been able to muster the energy to eat the dinner Ali'd prepared for him, instead curling up on their couch, his head on Ali's lap, falling into a deep but restless sleep while Ali ate her food in silence. There had been nightmares that night, too – far more than she cared to remember, in fact – resulting in both her and Dec looking and feeling like zombies by the following morning. And now the nightmares had returned again, although this time they were brought on by anxiety rather than by ripping the scabs off of his slowly healing mental and emotional sores. Ali was gently distracted from her thoughts by the sound of Dec quietly singing a lullaby to their child in a raw, trembling voice that still hiccupped occasionally with a broken off sob. The baby's cries had subsided as soon as her father had taken her into his arms, and it was obvious that, despite his current distress, his mere presence had lulled her into a contented silence. Ali smiled sadly – their daughter Isla was one of the few reasons her husband had actually made it through the past year without giving up hope and falling fully into the deep abyss of depression that had haunted him for so many months. If not for Isla, Ali might be faced with a very different reality today. Her husband's struggle with mental health had been very real over the past 12 months –and it had terrified her out of her wits on more than one occasion. He was slowly recovering now, due in no small part to the return to his life of his best friend of 30 years, Ant McPartlin. Dec hadn't wanted Ant to know how much he was struggling without his friend by his side, but Ant had seen right through him the very first time they met up after Ant was released from hospital. And that had been the best thing that ever happened to Dec. Ali had been trying desperately to get him to go see his psychotherapist, but even though he acknowledged he needed help, he couldn't seem to gather the courage to make an appointment. And forcing him to go was out of the question – if Declan Donnelly didn't want to do something, there was no arguing with him; and if you tried to force or trick him into doing something he didn't want to do, an angry explosion would knock you clean off your feet and stop you in your tracks. No, Dec was a very, very stubborn man, and if he had set his mind against something, there was nothing you could do to change that. Unless, of course, you happened to be Ant McPartlin.

As soon as Ant had caught on to the fact that Dec was in a really, really bad place mentally, he had given Dec a dressing down for ignoring his own needs, and had made an appointment for Dec, while Dec had apparently just sat there open-mouthed. And that was when the weekly – and sometimes bi-weekly, if he was having an especially tough time – therapy sessions had begun. Ant had had to threaten Dec over the phone the day of his first scheduled appointment in order to force him out of the relative safety of his home and into the psychotherapist's office. But after that first session, Dec had realized that the therapy sessions weren't as scary as they had seemed at the outset, and the long, extremely emotional conversations with the therapist actually helped a bit to organize the painful thoughts and feelings swirling in his psyche. Ali was so incredibly grateful to Ant for his insistence at helping her husband to take that first step towards trying to heal his fractured mind. Without Ant's assistance, she shuddered to think what might have happened....

Several minutes of silence had now passed – Dec's voice having stilled in response to Isla's relaxation in his arms as she fell back asleep. He should have been back in bed by now, though, and Ali was a little bit worried. Deciding to check on her husband, Ali stole across the landing to their daughter's room, a loving smile lighting her eyes as she took in the sight in front of her. Dec was fast asleep, reclining in the rocking chair in the corner of the room, clutching a snoozing Isla to his chest, a small, contented smile on both of their faces. Ali's heart swelled with affection for her little family, and she tiptoed out of the room, back to her bed to try for a couple more hours of sleep.

Later that morning, Dec and Ali found themselves in a battle of wills as they argued over who should take Rocky out for a walk. Dec was feeling incredibly vulnerable now that the interview had gone out to the nation, and wanted nothing to do with the outside world. There would be paparazzi lurking, he argued, and he couldn't bear to face their unwanted attention right now. In the end, Dec got his way, and Ali took their little dog out for a morning stroll while Dec looked after Isla. Ali understood, she got it, and didn't mind doing this small favor for her husband, even though she worried about what it meant for his damaged psyche. Her concern only deepened as, with each day that passed, they had the same conversation – Dec absolutely refusing to leave the house for even the simplest of things. It was on the fourth day of stubborn refusals from Dec that Ali finally put her foot down. Dec couldn't spend the rest of his life hiding away just because there might be paparazzi waiting for him out there – after all, he'd dealt with them almost daily for much of the past year, she reminded him, trying really hard to ignore the painful wince that comment produced as Dec was transported back to the horror of that year. Ali had eventually convinced Dec to take Rocky for his morning walk by placing his AirPods, Rocky's leash (she knew how difficult it was for Dec to ignore Rocky's pleading puppy eyes), and his phone and keys into his hands. The AirPods were what ultimately sold Dec on the idea of going outside, as their noise canceling would provide some solace in case of paparazzi ambushing him, drowning out their cries and the incessant clicking of the cameras. Normally, he would just listen to the sweet sounds of birdsong during his walks along the peaceful streets of Chiswick, but today, his favorite music playlist would – hopefully – provide him with the illusion of privacy that he so desperately needed to feel safe.

Dec had left the house about half an hour ago, and was actually enjoying his walk along a particularly secluded street – he had made some adjustments to his normal walking route, hoping to avoid any attention from either passersby or skulking paparazzi – when it happened. Out of the corner of his eye, Dec became aware of movement to his right, across the street. Paparazzi. In horror, Dec watched as their lips moved – clearly, they were shouting questions at him that he, mercifully, couldn't hear – and camera shutters flashed as they snapped photo after photo of his stricken face. The intense vulnerability Dec had been feeling since Saturday returned full force, causing him to slightly hunch his shoulders and pull his cap even further down over his eyes, trying desperately to hide. He glared at the paparazzi – how dare they ruin his walk! – but the anguish which he had squashed down for so long was returning rapidly, its push to the surface inevitable as it sucked him down, down, down into its deep pit of mental torment. His gaze was now pain-filled as he tried to shrink into the collar of his vest, his body curling in on itself in an attempt to protect him from the helplessness that came with his rising panic. He quickened his pace, desperate to get away from the flashing cameras that were eating away at him, leaving him feeling exposed as they captured him and laid bare his vulnerability. Powerless to do anything to ease his distress other than attempting to remove himself from the situation as quickly as possible, Dec turned his face away from the cameras, his mouth grimacing as he blew out a tense breath. He was feeling more panicked by the second, his breaths quickening as his mind was clouded with an urgent sense of endangerment. Without thinking, his ever hastening feet took him in a direction opposite to his own home. A bit of an odd decision, given that one might think he was craving the safety offered behind the closed door and blinds of his mansion. But no, there was only one thing his agonized heart and mind needed right now, and he found himself walking numbly in its direction, not really aware of what he was doing.

Nearly two hours later, Dec was startled to find himself at the closed gate of a familiar-looking front garden. Wait, what? It was as if he was coming out of a trance, his mind puzzled by what it had done. Incredulously, Dec stared at the house in front of him – Ant's house – before checking his watch. Had he really just walked all the way here? Was it possible the panic in his mind had blacked out all thoughts of reason, instead relentlessly pushing him in the direction of the only succor to the pain he was suffering? Shaking his head dumbly, the sensation of something cutting into his palm caught his attention, and he opened his tight fist to find a leash, only to realize that a thoroughly tired out Rocky was panting next to him, tongue lolling out in exhaustion but tail wagging excitedly. The opening of the gate in front of him shook him out of his stupefied state, a familiar hand taking hold of his arm and gently pulling him behind the garden wall, away from the prying eyes of the world. Dec's wide-eyed gaze rose to meet Ant's concerned one, puzzlement still written all over his face. "Dec, what are you doing, man?" Ant's worried voice broke through the haze in Dec's mind as he stuttered out, "I...I...I don't know, Ant," continuing in bewilderment, "I guess I walked here?"

Ant was beyond troubled by Dec's obvious confusion and disorientation. This wasn't like his best mate at all, usually the less impulsive of the two of them, taking the time to think things through reasonably before making a decision. Ant had first become aware of Dec's presence outside his gate when Hurley started barking madly inside the house, wagging his tail in excitement as he stared out at his tiny best friend. A dark coil of worry had formed in Ant's abdomen when he had seen Dec standing outside his gate with Rocky, seemingly unaware of where he was or what he was doing. He hadn't been expecting Dec today, not that that mattered any – they would sometimes drop in on each other unannounced even now, despite the distance between each other's homes. He and Dec had been in contact over the past few days, and he was aware that Dec was struggling with the public's newfound knowledge of his own mental health struggles of the past year. But he hadn't realized it was quite this bad. Clearly, something bad must have happened to cause his friend to travel 8 miles on foot. Wrapping a warm arm around Dec's shoulders, Ant carefully guided him inside his house, removing his vest for him and unclipping Rocky from his lead as their two dogs held a happy reunion, Bumble and Milo watching for a moment before joining in on the fun. Dec still didn't seem with it, staring blankly into Ant's family room as if seeing it for the first time. "Shoes, Dec," Ant lightly reminded him, prompting Dec to startle slightly before nodding and removing his shoes, setting them on the mat. Glad to have gotten a response from his dazed friend, Ant suggested, "Come on, let's get you a cuppa," while leading Dec through the family room and into the kitchen – unwilling to leave him alone even for a few minutes – seating him at the table before grabbing the kettle and his stash of Dec's favorite tea. Carrying both mugs of tea, Ant motioned for Dec to go ahead of him as they silently entered the family room once again. Dec sank into the plush loveseat – his favorite spot and the most comfortable of all the furnishings in the room – while Ant settled himself down next to his friend, pulling him into his side. They sat without speaking for several minutes, sipping at their tea while lost in their own thoughts, neither one willing to break the uncomfortable silence that had settled in the room. Slowly, ever so slowly, Ant began to feel the tension in Dec's body ebbing away as he finished his tea, and wrapped both arms around his smaller friend, Dec's breaths deepening as he found tranquility in the safety of Ant's arms.

Finally, a quiet, haunted, "They found me," was heard, breaking the stillness of the moment as its meaning hit Ant with resounding clarity. Those bloody paparazzi, Ant cursed in his mind, anger coursing through his veins. He and Dec had both struggled with learning to cope with the sudden attention focused on their everyday lives over the past year and a half, but he knew it had pained Dec more than it had him. At his darkest, Ant had wrestled with the constant imposition of the press on his life, the intense scrutiny causing him to fall deeper into depression, losing himself in its wily pit of self-destruction. But he was mostly protected from the worst of the paparazzi attention last year – he had moved to Wimbledon after his stint in rehab, and it was a much quieter area, less bothered by paparazzi and celebrity spotters wanting to make a few quid by selling photos and stories to the tabloids. Dec, however, had had to deal with paparazzi stalking him almost daily for weeks on end – Dec had told him later that he reckoned he'd never been in the papers so much before – and the feeling of never being able to let his guard down had taken its toll on him. And now, when he was feeling so vulnerable due to admitting to needing counseling to deal with the past year's emotional baggage, Ant could understand why his mind had shut down....And why he had made his way to Ant's without even being aware of it.

Suddenly realizing that Ali was probably wondering where her husband was, Ant questioned softly, "Does Ali know you're here?" even though he already knew the answer would be no. Shaking his head miserably, Dec's wide puppy eyes met Ant's, a pained look in them as he bared his wounded soul to the only person who had ever truly understood him. His heart clenching at the sight, Ant sighed sadly and said, "I'll give her a ring," knowing Dec was in no shape to call her himself. After a brief conversation, reassuring Ali that her husband was alive and – sort of – well, Ant ended the call before turning to his friend yet again. "Do you want to talk about it?" Dec shook his head imperceptibly, biting his lower lip as his eyes filled with tears. "Come here," Ant whispered, pulling Dec to his chest as he broke down, silent tears wetting Ant's jumper as he let out all of his pent up emotions in one fell swoop, body shaking with the force of his ragged breaths. Ant's heart was breaking, but he knew he had to be strong for his friend right now, so he kissed his head, his voice reaching Dec's ears as a gentle rumble in his chest, vibrating through Dec's skull. "It's okay, Dec. It's okay. Just let it all out," Ant whispered soothingly, rubbing Dec's back tenderly as he continued to weep on Ant's chest. Eventually, the trembling of Dec's body eased, his breaths evening out as the last of his tears dripped sluggishly down his cheeks. Voice still wobbling dangerously, Dec managed a muted, "Thank you," his voice muffled as he spoke into Ant's jumper, face tightly pressed to Ant's chest. No reply was necessary as Ant squeezed his friend just a little bit tighter, knowing Dec needed physical reassurance more than verbal right now. Stillness reigned as the two friends clung to each other, each needing the reassurance of the other's touch to feel that everything would actually be okay in the end. Sleep ultimately claimed the emotionally exhausted pair as they relaxed in each other's hold – Dec with his arms wrapped around Ant's middle, head resting on his chest, while Ant continued to completely envelope his smaller friend in the loving fortress of his arms. The safety they felt while in each other's arms was like no other – and as they dozed off, both were aware of the same truth: their greatest strength was each other, and as long as they had that safe haven of love, nothing could ever truly break them.

[simpingforcadbury]

Chocolate and Floss of the Non-Fairy Variety

15. Recovery (1967)

There was the distinct feeling of nothing at all. Complete weightlessness. Kristie dreamed of soaring high above the small town, even further than the aquamarine atmosphere of the world. The darkness of space, glittering with its trillion starry rhinestones cradled her as she peered into that glassy aquamarine earth that held all the small important things in her waking life amidst the 7 continents and 4 oceans. How peaceful and tiny and beautiful it looked from her distant perch.

In a small valley surrounded by sprawling houses and winding streets she spied the Wonka Factory, smoke (no longer black since switching to hydrogen fuel) rising from its 37 chimneys up, up and up toward her.

~~~~~

Kristie’s eyes opened, blearily adjusting to the darkened room she was in. They felt dry and crusty as she blinked. She decided that it must be daytime, seeing how the curtains had been drawn over the window. The light from outside peeked curiously around its sides, casting a pale glowing shadow on the wall. She wondered how long she had lain unconscious for.

In the corner, her mother dozed in a small desk chair fast asleep. A tired voice spoke up from beside her, “Kristie, you’re awake,”she felt the warmth of Willy’s hands holding her own. “Willy..” she tried to sit up from the bed, but winced when a dull pain radiated across her abdomen.

“Lie back down, it looks like it’s still quite painful. Mr Anderson says you’ll be alright once you’ve healed up. The surgery couldn’t have gone better apparently, they’ve removed the bullet and the police have taken it as evidence. You’re very lucky it missed all your major organs.” He said calmly.

There was a certain relief from Kristie’s end hearing that, knowing that she was going to be alright by the end of this ordeal. “How long was I asleep for?”

“A couple days. It’s the morning of the 15th of December now.”

She nodded, sinking back into the mattress before suddenly stiffening again. “Willy, Slugworth is in the town. What happened that day was a trap he designed to lure me out and question me about you.”

Kristie swallowed as he looked intriguingly at her. “What did they do to you?”

“He employed a woman who called herself ‘Sally Moreton’ to befriend me over the past couple months. And yesterday she sent me a telegram to meet her for tea at her apartment to meet her friend. It was foolish of me to have gone.” She responded sheepishly.

“But her friend was Arthur Slugworth. They spiked my tea but I didn’t drink any, so they offered me a great sum of money for information about you and the factory.” She swallowed.

“I pretended not to know you under the presumption that they would release me if they believed they had the wrong person, but what they knew about us was quite frankly so disturbing. Slugworth has been watching us for some time, he knows about our walks, he knows that Mr Wilkinson escorts me into the factory at a different rendezvous point every time. When I refused to give them the information they desired, they threatened me with a revolver and had the gall to drag my family into it too. When they called my house, I used the opportunity to shout out to call you, so you could remove them from the house and bring them to someplace safer.”

“I’m glad our emergency plan came in handy.” Willy said lowly. He remembered the sheer panic in Irene’s shrill voice as she notified him of Kristie’s situation. He had discussed the possibility of industrial espionage with Kristie years ago, and they had decided on this plan of action to relocate family into the factory temporarily in any unforeseen circumstances.

“They didn’t expect me to do that and there was a moment of chaos that I used to escape.” she shuddered at the thought. She was lucky indeed. If the bullet had been any gone any other way, she might not be alive to tell her tale. “You don’t have to worry though, your secrets are safe with me. I’ll be damned the day they manage to get a peep out of me.” She chuckled, but the pain only grew as she did, making her gasp desperately.

Willy shot up, leaning over her to help her ease back down into the bed once again. “Give it some rest first, darling. You have all the time in the world to laugh about Slugworth later. Although, in my book this is no laughing matter at all.” What she had told him was extremely concerning. They had seen through his disguise and had put those he loved in harm’s way.

Now, in the hospital, he could keep watch over her in a safe environment, but what would the situation be like when Kristie would inevitably wish to return to work outside the protection of the factory? If the police could not prosecute him, Slugworth was sure to come again, and this time, he feared that he wouldn’t be so careless.

“Kristie, I’m worried about you. I’m terrified of the notion that Slugworth will try again. I have the feeling that he will be much better prepared the next time round.” He shared his thoughts with her, knowing better than to keep them bottled up and swirling inside him. “I think you would be better off moving into the factory. Slugworth knows where you live and there are too many places where he can intercept you when you’re off work. What do you think?”

“You’re right of course, and I agree with moving into the factory. But at the same time, I cannot stay in all the time and resolve to stop working after I’m all fixed up, even if it is dangerous for me. I’m just trying to think of a solution where I can do both.” She pondered.

“What if we moved the clinic?”

“What are you proposing?”

“We can move the clinic into the factory grounds, on the lawn adjacent to the gates. We can rebuild the clinic there and move the gates to wrap around it leaving the front open for clients. You can have your own personal back door into the factory in that case too.”

“You make a brilliant case, but our association would become quite obvious to the public.”

“I don’t think it’ll be as inconspicuous as you make it out to be. I’ll see to it that it’s not.”

“Hmm, if you’re sure. Tell me what you have in mind.”

Back to masterlist

[hrrytomlinson]

here are a bunch of fucking fantastic fics I’ve enjoyed and loved reading throughout the month of october. I recommend that you read these great fics in november, if you haven’t already!! also check out the Reverse Big Bang and 31 Days of Smut!

(all fics with a star are my favorites and if there are two stars then it was a favorite favorite)

1. Damn the Dark, Damn the Light 20k

“Why is this face of beauty ringing so true?” The genuine confusion in Harry’s voice causes Louis’ chest to painfully twinge. “You’re a complete stranger in my eyes, William Shakespeare, but not in my heart. How is that possible?”

Louis wants to live out every romance plot he has ever written in his own life. He wants to be the protagonist of his own narrative, the hero who finds true love and gets his happy ending. Instead, Louis is stuck with only dreaming of such wild fantasies and writing them down. He can create entire romances in his dreams, yet he can never live one.

2. Threadbare 20k**

Harry Styles was eight years old when Louis Tomlinson kept him from falling into a machine in a Manchester textile mill. He was 18 years old when nothing, not even the threat of death, could keep Harry from falling in love with Louis.

3. Don’t Come Down 6k

Louis takes Harry home to meet the family.

4. I’ll Take Your Pain 2k*

Or, soulmates have the ability to feel each other's pain, and Harry finds his after getting his arse waxed.

5. We'll Never Be Lonely in the Dark 6k

Detective Louis Tomlinson keeps getting blocked when he tries to use his psychic gift to locate a missing child. One late night he manages to get through but instead of finding who he's looking for he lands in the bedroom of a mysterious man.

Harry Styles, nursing student, baker, and all around exhausted medium, thinks he's having the best sex dream he's ever had when his fantasy man shows up in his subconscious. But is that really what's going on?

6. Aquarius 6k

Louis realises he's slept with a man of every star sign except for Aquarius, and that just won't do.

7. Forget-Me-Not 26k**

“I- I can't move” the elder one finally croaked out, and with more distress Harry came to see that the vines had wrapped itself around the lad's ankles.

With a dumb nod Harry took a couple of steps forward. He could see Louis flinch with his sudden movement but he tried not to think about it. Instead, he lifted his hands, and tried his best to concentrate, hoping his power would listen to him just this once around the other man and untie him.

Ever so slowly, the vines started to detach themselves from Louis's calves, and soon enough, the man was free. With shaking legs, Louis stood up from the position he was in, and suddenly the air around them got thicker. “You're- you're a witch.” Louis hissed under the harsh wind, making Harry flinch at the accusation in his voice.

Or, where Harry had something he did not wish to have. Louis was just trying to figure him out.

8. Gem and the Hunters: The Treasure of Babylon 34k**

Louis Tomlinson wished, for one thing, his whole life: to find the ancient city of Babylon. After one failed attempt, he swore to never again attempt a search for the city. His friend, Niall Horan never pushed the issue, but when his family finds themselves in trouble, Niall’s only option is to convince Louis to try and find Babylon again.

Niall enlists the help of two famous treasure hunters: Harry and Gemma Styles and their friend Liam Payne. Harry and Gemma love ancient cultures as much as Louis and would give anything to find Babylon. Liam is just along for the ride, running from a shade in his past.

The five embark on the adventure of a lifetime… and find much more than any of them bargained for.

9. I Never Did Believe in the Ways of Magic (Through I’ve a Feeling It’s Time to Try) 54k*

Louis can’t shake the feeling that there’s something in the woods, pressing close and watching him with a heavy gaze. It makes him antsy, fills him with jitters. He wants to run, or scream, but he knows to do so would only put him in danger if there’s actually something out there after all. He’s sure he’s just imagining it, but his heart nevertheless pounds in his throat.

When Louis Tomlinson goes on a songwriting retreat to the Laurentian Mountains of Canada, this isn't how he expects his evening to go.

Or the au where Louis is a singer who has been cursed to never make music again and Harry is a reclusive witch of the Canadian mountains who's going to help him break the curse.

10. Cancel Your Reservations, No More Hesitations 10k

Louis still has his eyes on the bill when he barges into Harry’s room without knocking because he doesn’t want to get evicted and the smell hits him first.

It’s overly sweet and unnatural, and his stomach drops because it smells like an omega. Louis eyes widen and he looks up and - Harry’s on his hands and knees, a half spilled bottle of synthetic omega slick next to him and a huge, knotted dildo pressing into his hole. Harry’s face is flushed and he looks fucked-out and -

“I’m sorry!” Louis squeaks out and quickly backtracks, face red, because he wasn’t supposed to see that and Harry’s an alpha but he - Louis isn’t going to judge him.

Louis is an alpha and so is Harry, but Louis helps him through his rut anyway.

11. Foothold 18k

Louis has crossed the galaxy with a ship full of crystals; they’re the only thing he has to offer in exchange for safe harbor. He thought getting to his destination would be the hardest part, hoping that once he got his family to safety everything would fall back into place; Louis struggles to adapt while his sisters thrive. Louis suspects Emperor Styles may have something to do with it.

12. Don’t Want Shelter 76k*

Louis and Harry have known each other all their lives. Friends as children, they danced around each other as teenagers, and have spent the last twenty-five years either screaming at each other or not speaking at all. Except for that one time ten years ago…

When Hurricane Nicole threatens the coast, they end up stuck together in their families' old vacation home that they begrudgingly co-own.

During the storm, and in the months after, they’re both forced to reevaluate their history and what they mean to each other.

13. Wasted Like a Memory 4k

Six years before Hurricane Nicole forces Louis and Harry together, Fizzy gets married. Harry wrestles with reconciling the different versions of Louis he knows. (Part of Don’t Want Shelter)

14. Taste and Plead 3k

Or, the one where Harry wants something, and Louis' never been one to deny his boy anything.

15. Home For Christmas 22k**

The Shameless Hallmark Movie AU you probably didn't ask for.

Or, the one where Harry didn't think he wanted a family, but with a little Christmas magic (and maybe one Louis Tomlinson) he realizes that he is very, very wrong.

16. A Million Stars 2k

Louis watches Harry perform at the Tower Theater, and the events of the night unfold in an unexpected manner.

17. No One Like You 19k**

Where Liam and Niall are art historians discovering the truth about two nineteenth century painters on opposite sides of an artistic divide.

18. Howls Like A Beast (You Flower, You Feast) 16k*

France, 1754. Château de Versailles.

“You don’t love me,” Louis had said, utterly blasé as he callously fractured the heart of a Harry that was just barely eighteen.

“I do,” Harry had insisted pleadingly, green eyes already watering.

Louis had rolled his eyes, exasperated and flippant in the way only beautiful, young boys could be when faced with the affections of a baby prince. He had run his finger down Harry’s cheek then, had forced him to look into his eyes as he delivered the final blow.

“You’ll change your mind once you’ve seen more of the world,” Louis had teased, pressing a brutally delicate kiss onto Harry’s lovely, pure cheek. “Once you’ve been properly defiled.” He had whispered filthily, delighted by the gasp he heard, the frantic pink blush that had rested high on Harry’s cheeks, the power he had felt at knowing he could make the Crown Prince squirm.

19. You Flower, You Feast 18k**

He's King of the Underworld, but don't assume Louis has it all. He could stand for some excitement in his monotonous, eternal life and maybe, even.....a soulmate.

(Despite not having a soul.)

And along came "Harry".

20. The Dead Things We Carry 25k*

September ‘49

He hasn’t seen him since that day in France, that horrible muddy day where for one terrifyingly long second, Louis really thought he was going to die. He winces with the phantom pain, the hand not holding his cane going to his stomach automatically, remembering the franticness, the tenderness, of Harry’s hands while Louis was bleeding out. This is the man who saved Louis’ life.

For one second, Louis fears Harry won’t recognise him, but his eyes widen when he turns to his left and they meet Louis’. He takes a step forward, reaching for him with a shaky hand before stopping himself.

“Louis,” Harry says with a shudder and Louis doesn’t think his name has ever carried more weight. This is the only man Louis ever thought about kissing for real.

“Oh,” Mrs. Padley says, clearly taken aback. “You two know each other?”

There are some things people never fully come home from. Until, one day, if they’re lucky, home comes to them.

21. Do You Like My Sweater 13k

When Harry's alpha fraternity decides to host a Sadie Hawkins dance, outspoken omega Louis has a thing or two to say about it.

22. Yellow 84k**

The city of Gotham turns blood red with a new, mysterious criminal element, a beautiful woman named the Blind Cupid. She threatens to tear the fabric of the city apart, aided by her deadly protégé, the Cat. Can Batman stop them? Will he resist the bewitching allures of the Cat?

A Batman/ Catwoman AU

23. Things That Go Hump in the Night 6k

Louis goes camping. Something horrible happens. Louis is miserable.

It’s science.

24. This Thing Upon Me (Howls Like a Beast) 8k

Harry and Louis weren’t meant to be together. They’d met when they were put together through their university’s AO MatchUp, a program that set up alphas and omegas based on the schedules of their ruts and heats so they had someone to help them through it. It was pure luck that they were put together.

25. Hands Clasped Tight 44k**

Or the one where Harry and Louis are high school teachers and their students have been playing matchmaker for over a year. Little do they know, Harry and Louis are already married.

26. And the Truth Shall Set You Free (...Maybe) 17k

Betism: A religion based on the belief that the beta gender has been chosen by God to protect and defend the purity and dignity of the human race by resisting and condemning the lustful ways and flawed biology of the alpha and omega

Harry is a Betist and Louis is an alpha who runs with a bad crowd. This is what happens when two worlds collide.

27. (We Will Be) As If Chosen 35k**

There's not a royal in the world who doesn't carry some sort of secret, and Prince Louis has more than his fair share. To protect himself and his family, Louis withdrew from the public eye and tried to live a quiet life, biding his time until his sister Lottie could take the throne in his stead. Unfortunately for him, the national media and the worst person Louis has ever met team up to bring him kicking and screaming back into the spotlight.

Under the watchful eyes of millions, Louis has to figure out how to keep his carefully constructed house of cards from falling, and the first step to accomplishing that is to keep from falling in love with the irritatingly charming Prince Harry, who just won't stop showing up and trying to whisk Louis out of the constraints of his boring life.

Or: the course of true love never did run smooth, because sometimes people are stubborn and sometimes people are scared and sometimes, just sometimes, love can cause just as many problems as it solves.

28. It’ll Be 13k

Louis has always wanted children and he decides he's done waiting for love to come first. However, after adopting a baby girl just days after she's born, he quickly realizes how hard parenting is. Louis hires Harry to be his Nanny, and it all works out great. Until Louis falls in love with him.

[unfolded73]

Another New York City Serenade (6/7)

Summary: With the visitors from Arendelle gone and Gold banished, Emma and Killian’s relationship continues to deepen, especially when an excuse for a road trip away from Storybrooke falls into their laps. (A S4 hiatus story).

Beta: @j-philly-b

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4541 this chapter

Warning for hungover Emma. And angst. :)

(tagging @kmomof4 @this-too-too-sullied-flesh @cherrywolf713 @stardusted-nymph upon request)

CHAPTER 1 |  CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

Emma woke up with a pounding headache. The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was the empty glass on her bedside table, and a fractured memory popped into her head of Killian bringing her water and Advil before she passed out. Which reminded her of the way he’d gently cleaned her up after… she winced. After the sex she’d initiated. After drinking way too much and dragging him out dancing.

She rolled over to see the vast expanse of an empty bed.

Struggling to her feet, she stumbled to the bathroom. It too was empty. Killian was gone.

Emma’s stomach roiled and she dropped to the floor, retching into the toilet. The thin hotel bath mat cushioned her knees a little, but she shivered and couldn’t help thinking what a sight she must be, on the floor wearing a bra and nothing else with her head pressed against the toilet seat. The heaving of her stomach made her head hurt worse, which made her stomach rebel even more.

After a few minutes she was able to drag herself up from the floor. She turned on the shower as hot as could stand it. With a heavy sigh she unhooked her bra and stepped under the spray, letting the water run down her hair.

Killian was no idiot; he could read her like an open book, he’d said so many times. He had probably seen right through her last night. He knew she’d been avoiding talking about anything meaningful since their conversation in Battery Park. For the first time, she began to genuinely worry that she'd pushed him too far. He was a patient man, but everyone had their limits. How long before he got fed up with her walls and gave up on her?

Emma did her best to wash herself, her hands feeling numb and heavy, her head still throbbing. If only the memories of past hangovers weren't always conveniently absent during a drinking binge.

Turning off the water, she dried off and wrapped the towel around her hair before exiting the bathroom.

Killian sat in the room’s lone desk chair, waiting for her.

“How are you feeling this morning?”

She exhaled with relief, her shoulders relaxing. “Shitty,” she said as she opened a drawer and pulled out some clothes.  

“I thought you might. I'm sorry, Swan, I should have said something last night before you got so inebriated.”

Emma rolled her eyes as she pulled her underwear on. “You're not my minder, Killian.”

“I know that.” He dropped his eyes. “In any case, I got you some breakfast.”

“Ugh, I don't think I can eat.”

“Try. You'll feel better if you get something into your stomach.” Once she’d finished dressing, he guided her to sit down and put a wrapped breakfast sandwich in her lap. “I also got you a tea; I thought coffee might be a bit too much.”

“Thanks. That's very sweet.” She unwrapped the sandwich and forced herself to take a bite.

He watched her eat for awhile in silence. “I'm sorry about last night,” Killian finally said, his expression pained. “I shouldn't have… I fear I took advantage of you.”

“Are you talking about the sex?” Dismissing him with a wave her hand, she added, “From what I remember, it was very hot and I was very into it. And we’re going to revisit that thing you did with your hook when I’m sober.” She took a sip of tea and felt her headache recede a fraction. “It's me that needs to apologize.”

“Why?”

“Because I… “ She stopped, and Killian gave her a tiny nod of encouragement. “Because I drank so much,” she responded, chickening out on the real reason for the apology. Because I’m a closed off, broken excuse for a human being who can’t just admit how important you are to me, she thought.

He gave her a tight smile and a pat on the knee. “I can return to the library on my own if you aren’t feeling up to it.”

“No, I’ll be fine, just give me a few more minutes.”

~*~

The third floor archive room was again empty save for a single librarian. This time it was a woman with short, red hair, an impressive array of piercings, and a tattoo on her chest only mostly concealed by her sweater. She looked even less like a librarian than the first one had, and Emma prepared herself for disappointment.

“Hi, we’re looking for Lynne?” she asked.

“That’s me, what can I do for you?”

Killian again brandished his book. “We spoke to the librarian who was here yesterday about this crystal. She had no record of it in that thing,” he said, gesturing to the computer, “but told us that you might have more information.”

Lynne stared at the engraving in the book. “Yeah, Karen’s only been here for about six months, so she doesn’t know how to access our old database,” she said. “Not that I need it, because I actually remember this item, but I’ll show you.” After several seconds of rapid typing, she turned the monitor enough so that they could see the screen. “See that?” she said, pointing to a text entry. “Stolen over a year ago. We reported it to the police and everything, but it wasn’t exactly their top priority to track down a rock with mythical origins, no matter how old and priceless it is.”

“You said you remember it,” Emma probed. “You were here when it was stolen?”

“I was working the day this guy with a cane came in and asked to see it. I knew there was something about him that wasn’t quite right, but I did my job, I sat him down right over there with the artifact and some documentation we had to accompany it. After about ten minutes, he thanked me and left, and I put everything away promptly, exactly like we’re supposed to. I know I put that crystal back and locked the cabinet. But a few days later, something about the whole thing was bugging me, so I went to check that I hadn’t misfiled it. The crystal was gone.”

“Maybe because you misfiled it?” Emma said.

“I tore the whole place apart. It was just gone. Somehow, that guy stole it.”

“The man with the cane?” Killian said, his jaw clenched and spasming. His mind had clearly gone exactly where Emma’s had.

“There was no record of anyone else in the last thirty years coming to look at that crystal. Then three days after someone does, it disappears? I don’t believe in coincidences.”

“No, nor I,” Killian said darkly.

“I gave his description to the police, but nothing ever came of it. Sorry.”

Killian turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. “Thanks for your help,” Emma said to librarian, giving her a small smile before she dashed after him.

“Killian, wait!” she called, which made him spin around to face her. His fist was clenched at his side.

“Bloody Crocodile,” he muttered.

“Yeah, it does sound a lot like Gold, and the date matches when I brought him to New York to track down Neal. He must’ve stolen it while I was occupied with the whole Henry meeting his father situation.” She put a hand on Killian’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him. “But maybe this is a good thing. Maybe it’s in his shop. You have to admit, it would be pretty funny if we came all this way and the damn thing was in Storybrooke the whole time.” With a smile, she added, “We might even get accused of making up an excuse to go on a romantic trip together.”

He returned her smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “We should call Belle and let her know. She can look for it.”

“Let’s go outside and call her from the park,” Emma suggested, taking his arm and steering him to the stairwell.

Belle answered her phone after the first ring. “Emma! How’s New York?”

“Hi, Belle. New York’s fine.”

“Did you find the crystal?”

“Not exactly. It was here, but it looks like…” She paused, grimacing. The last thing she wanted to do was give Belle more reason to be upset, but there was no way around it. “It looks like Gold may have stolen it last year when I brought him to New York to track down Neal. We were hoping maybe he stashed it in his shop. Can you look?”

Her voice was softer, more subdued when she answered. “Yeah, I’ll go over there right away.”

“Thanks. Call us when you find something. I guess either way, we’ll be heading back tomorrow,” she said, looking at Killian. “There’s not much more we can do here.”

“I’m sorry you made the trip for nothing. Did you at least get a chance to have some fun together?” Belle asked.

“Yeah, we’ve had some time for fun.”

The two of them said their goodbyes and Emma ended the call. “She’ll call if she finds something.”

“She won’t,” Killian said. “It’s a crystal to undo magical traps. If anything, he would have destroyed it.”

“Maybe not. Maybe he would have saved it in case he got caught in a magical trap himself.”

“If that were the case, he’d carry it with him. And we have no idea where he is; he could be here in New York City right now and we’d never know it.”

Emma shuddered at that idea, glancing around at the buildings that in that moment seemed to close in around them.

“And even if we found him and he had the crystal, why would he help us? He despises fairies almost as much as he despises me.” They were standing near a park bench, and Killian kicked it violently. Being bolted to the ground, the park bench was unfazed by his attack.

“Did that help?”

“Yes.”

“Killian—”

“Everything I do, everywhere I go, Rumplestiltskin is there to plague me. It’s not enough that he destroyed Milah and Bae and countless others, or that he took my hand. Even banished from our lives, he still finds a way to thwart me at every turn.” There was murder in his eyes, and Emma unconsciously took a step backward.

“If the crystal isn’t an option, then we’ll find another way.”

He didn’t seem to even hear her, pacing in front of her like a chained attack dog. “I don’t know what I was playing at, thinking I could be the hero and save the day. Set my vengeance aside, and right past wrongs; be a good man, a pillar of the community,” he spat. “As if I’m someone who deserves happiness and a warm fire and a… a big, soft bed like the one in that bloody hotel room.”

“You’re angry about the bed?”

“I'm angry that I let myself believe I deserve that kind of comfort after the kind of man I’ve been.”

“But you’ve changed.”

He laughed a sharp, bitter laugh. “You probably imagine that I was a fine, upstanding citizen until grief turned me into a vengeful pirate.” Emma glanced at the people passing near them in the park, but no one seemed to be paying them any attention. Most of them had earbuds plugged into their ears, completely oblivious to the fact that Captain Hook was having a meltdown right here in the middle of Manhattan. “What you don’t understand is that I was always weak,” he continued, his eyes flashing with pain and fury. “I was a drunk and a gambler long before I was anything that anyone could admire. The only thing that kept me on the straight and narrow was fear of disappointing Liam, and as soon as he died…”

She reached out and touched the arm of his jacket, trying to calm him. “I know, I get that, but what I see is the man you are now—”

“Exactly, which is why you’re pulling away from me.”

She dropped her hand. “I’m not pulling away from you—”

“Aren’t you, Emma?” He smiled a dark little smile. “And honestly I think if I were truly a good man, I would let you go. You’d be better off without me.”

“You’ve certainly made up your mind about a lot of things without considering what I want.” She was suddenly livid.

Killian looked away, the muscle in his jaw working furiously.

“Everyone in my life has left me. Everyone. And you stand there and talk about my fears like they’re about you?” Her arms were crossed tightly across her chest, and she stared hard at a food truck in her field of vision, watching the lighted sign flash without really registering what she was looking at. She was suddenly exhausted. “My headache is coming back. I’m going back to the hotel and lie down.”

“Perhaps I will go for a walk. Clear my head.” She glanced at him briefly, at the firm set of his shoulders. The relief that he wasn’t offering to go back to the hotel with her made her stomach twist with guilt.

“Do you have the second room key?”

“Aye.”

“And you have your card for the subway?”

“I do.”

“Don’t forget, the little arrow needs to be pointing toward the swipey thing,” she said, gesturing as if she was swiping a card through the turnstile reader.

“You don’t need to mother me, Swan, I can get along fine without you.”

Anger flashed in her veins again. “Fine. I’ll see you later.” Before she could say something she would regret, she turned on her heel and stalked across the park, back towards the crush of Times Square.

After a train ride that went by in a blur of unintelligible announcements and disinterested passengers jostling with her for space, Emma emerged from the subway under the shadow of construction scaffolding. The sunshine that lit up Rector Street didn’t reach her under the canopy of steel as she trudged to the hotel. It was early afternoon, and people were streaming in and out of a falafel shop as she passed. The oily smell made her stomach roll over.

She glanced at faces in the sea of humanity as she passed, the stockbrokers from nearby Wall Street who were thinking about their next conference call and the teen girls who were looking around excitedly as their harried parents wearing fanny packs and too-white sneakers trailed a few steps behind. None of them had any idea what existed under the surface of this world, the magic and mystery that Emma had been plunged into without warning on her twenty-eighth birthday. Magic that had led her to Killian. She didn't know if she believed in destiny, but sometimes, looking at him, he felt a little bit like destiny. And he felt a lot like home.

The hotel room was freshly cleaned and deathly silent when she let herself in. Pulling off her boots, she lay down on top of the blankets, shivering with tiredness and a chill that she couldn’t explain. Lacking the energy to get undressed or get under the covers, she reached over and pulled the comforter around herself, curling up in the fetal position and squeezing her eyes shut. Mercifully, she fell asleep in a matter of minutes.

~*~

The room was dim when Killian entered, the early sunset of winter leaving behind a damp chill that had settled into his bones as he’d walked. Killian rubbed his hands together and blew on them, his gaze settling on the white lump with blonde hair that was curled up on the bed. His heart squeezed with a mixture of affection and fear.

Seemingly sensing his presence, Emma sat up, partially untangling herself from the duvet and clicking on the bedside lamp. “You’re back,” she said softly.

“Is that all right?” After his behavior, he figured he deserved to be thrown out of the room.

Emma patted the bed next to her, an invitation for him to join her. With careful steps, he walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, his feet firmly planted on the floor.

“I’m sorry, Emma.” He closed his eyes, afraid to meet hers.

“I’m sorry too.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, love, it was—”

“You were right, I’ve been… pushing you away a little bit. Or at least I’ve been deflecting, because…” She took a breath and let it out. He watched her face as she struggled to put her thoughts into words. Reaching over, Killian took her warm hand in his own, holding it loosely. “It’s a lot, the way I feel about you, and it scares me. I swore I’d never put myself in the position to get my heart broken again, and… I have.”

“You must know I’d rather die than ever break your heart.”

Emma raised an eyebrow at him. “Okay, well don’t die, that would be stupid.”

“I just mean—”

“I know.” She squeezed his hand. “God, you’re freezing.” Her other hand reached over and touched his wind-chapped cheek. “How long were you outside?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.” He’d walked, block after block, trying to see his way clear to being able to leave Emma for her own good. She was goodness and light magic, she was the Savior, and he was, as Peter Pan had once said, a one-handed pirate with a drinking problem. But after turning the agonizing idea over in his mind, he knew there wasn’t a chance in hell that he would ever voluntarily be parted from Emma Swan. He loved her too much. She’d burrowed deep into his heart and taken up residence there, and if he were a praying man, he would pray for her to stay there forever.

“Let’s warm you up,” Emma said, unbuttoning her jeans and pulling them off.

Dragged from his thoughts, Killian frowned. “What are you doing?”

“No innuendo? Who are you and what have you done with Killian Jones?” she said with a small smile. “I wasn’t proposing sex, by the way. I just figured we could snuggle up under the covers and get you warm. Okay?” He watched, mesmerized, as she reached under her shirt and unhooked her bra, and then through some kind of feminine witchcraft pulled it off and tossed it aside while her shirt stayed on. “Come on, take your pants off.” Emma added as she got under the covers properly and attempted to straighten out the mess she’d made of the duvet.

In a daze, Killian followed her direction, stripping down to his shirt and underwear before joining her in bed. Emma curled into him immediately, wrapping her arms around him and tangling their legs together. She felt so good and so warm and he sighed, feeling the tension he’d been carrying for hours finally draining away. They held each other in silence for several long minutes.

“I’m sorry that I let my anger at Rumplestiltskin get the better of me,” he finally murmured. “It brought all of my fears and doubts about myself to the fore, but I should never have burdened you with any of that.”

“Killian, that’s part of being in a relationship. Telling me when you have fears and doubts. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you have to hide the way you feel.” She shifted, kissing his cheek, and the sweetness of it made him close his eyes against tears that sprang up.

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat, “we’ve probably apologized enough for one day.”

Emma laughed, hugging him tighter before pulling away and looking him in the eye. “Storytime. Dumbest thing you’ve ever said to someone you had feelings for.”

He met her smile with one of his own. “That’s easy, but it’s a story you already know. It was the time I locked a certain Savior in a prison cell and told her I was done with her.”

“That doesn’t count, you didn’t have feelings for me then,” she countered.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Swan. I certainly did. I was drawn to you from the first moment I saw you.” He cupped her cheek in his hand, his thumb gently stroking her face. “What would be your answer to the question?”

She blushed, biting her lip. “One time thing. Definitely the dumbest thing I’ve ever said was when I told you kissing was a one time thing.”

The memory of that kiss flashed in his mind as he stared at Emma’s lips, which drew him in like a magnet. Their kiss was slow and gentle, her bottom lip between his, and he nipped at her again and again, pulling back each time only to return for more. He felt the kindling of desire but he didn’t allow it to push him into accelerating things. Right now he just wanted to focus on kissing her, on the sweetness of her mouth and the softness of her lips. When she tilted her head and opened her mouth wider, they still kept things languid and easy, neither of them in any rush to do more, despite the way their bodies were pressed together.

As the kiss naturally slowed to a stop, he heard the distinct sound of Emma’s stomach growling and couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Sorry, I didn’t eat much today.”

“Well, we should probably go do something about that. What do you fancy?”

“I fancy not having to put my bra back on. Let’s order room service.” She sprang out of the bed and retrieved a folder from the desk before reclaiming her spot under the covers.

After she’d used the room telephone to tell someone what food to bring them, Emma reached for the television remote to turn the device on. He’d hardly been aware there was a television in the room, so focused had he been on the bed-related activities, but now the black rectangle sprang to life.

“I could use a little mindless TV, is that okay?” She was pressing a button, making the picture change every couple of seconds.

“It’s fine.” He didn’t care for TV, didn’t have the cultural language to understand most of it, but he was so happy with how open she was being, he wouldn’t have minded if a traveling circus came into the room to perform. Even better when she curled up against him, her head on his chest, to watch whatever program she’d settled on. It seemed to be a drama about people searching for the killer of a woman who had been ritually raped and dumped out of an apartment window to sprawl, lifeless, on a car below. The police detectives bantered in dry witticisms over the dead body, and Killian silently questioned Emma’s characterization of this program as “mindless.”

The evening passed easily as they ate their delivered dinner cross-legged on the bed, sharing french fries and good-natured arguments over the program he learned was called Law and Order. Once Emma had put the room service tray outside the door and they had curled up under the covers again, Killian felt himself starting to get sleepy, the emotionally exhausting day catching up with him. He sank down further into the soft mattress, his hand toying idly with the ends of Emma’s hair as they lay entwined. When the second episode of the murder show ended, Emma yawned and turned the television off with the remote device.

“Sleepy?” he asked her.

“Yeah,” she said, but her fingernail scratching through his chest hair above where his shirt was buttoned hinted that sleep might not have been foremost on her mind. “We have to go home tomorrow.”

“Aye.”

“So it’s our last night to take advantage of being completely alone.”

He still wanted her, had wanted her all evening in a patient, unhurried way. “I would like nothing better, but no one’s keeping score, and you need your rest.”

“I’m not that tired.” She unbuttoned two buttons of his shirt, parting the fabric to kiss his chest. Then she looked up, hesitant. “Is this okay?”

“Love, if I ever turn down the pleasures of your body, you can assume someone has stolen my heart again.”

Emma grinned. “So really, me hitting on you could be considered necessary to your safety, is what you’re saying.”

“It sounds only prudent.” Cupping her face with his hand, he pulled her close to kiss her. Her mouth was warm, her tongue tangling with his as the kiss overtook them. They could barely stop kissing long enough to shed the few clothes they were wearing, but eventually they managed it. He let his hand travel over her body as Emma resettled against him, cupping the curve of her breast and pinching her nipple just hard enough to make her gasp with pleasure before raking his fingers down over her hip, gripping her ass and pulling her closer still. He took a moment to appreciate how wonderful it felt, her naked body against his, everything warm and soft and filled with anticipation. Gods, he would do anything to just live in this moment forever, loving this woman with his body and soul.

He felt her hand trailing down his stomach, a light, teasing touch until she gripped his cock in her fist, stroking up and down slowly and making him moan against her mouth. He moved to reciprocate her attentions, slipping his hand between her legs to find her already so swollen and wet, and he couldn’t help the bloom of pride that this miraculous woman had so much desire for him.

He was so wrapped up in the way she felt, in the sound of her voice when he touched her just so, that he was caught by surprise when she pushed him over onto his back and straddled him. She wasted no time taking his erection in hand and guiding him inside, rocking her hips to work herself down onto him until he was buried deep. She was a goddess, an angel, her blonde hair cascading down.  The movement of her breasts mesmerized him as she undulated her hips, taking what she needed. His limbs felt heavy and boneless as he watched her, and he could do little more than stroke the top of her thigh with his hand, pleasure sparking up his spine from where they were joined. Then Emma took hold of his both of his wrists, pressing them down onto the mattress on either side of his head and leaning forward, changing the angle and grinding harder with her hips. Her eyes were wide open, looking into his. Killian looked back, trying to communicate everything he was feeling for her without giving it voice. She seemed to see it, seemed to accept it, her eyes finally slipping closed only when the ecstasy overcame her. With a strangled moan she came, allowing him to finally let go and follow her, pulsing inside her, his vision going white as the sensations overwhelmed him.

The hotel bed was large, but that night they fell asleep cuddled close together in the center of it, Emma’s head on his chest and their legs entwined. Killian’s sleep was sound, and when he dreamed it was of the rocking of his ship on the sea, his love cradled in his arms.

CHAPTER 7