#will I ever stop talking about the ‘let’s just drown Liam’ moment? no. no I won’t bc it is SO funny

[toastybugguy]

Fanon perception:

The actual text of the show:

guys the huge difference is actually really funny when I’m not actively crying about it

[crithaus]

Been seeing so many tweets abt it and I wanna get back on yonder soap box for a second cuz I have my own musings

I had always wondered if Vax would show up when Vex was drowning in Dalen's Closet and then when he didn't I wondered why and mused that barring the above table reasons of this being a game with set rules and Matt can't just deus ex machina their way outta all their scraps, that below table the Deal Vax had already made with RQ for Vex's safety was all the flexing she would allow him to do and then voila Vex comes back anyhow, and I think it's important to note that as Vex was dying Liam slipped out of Derrig's character, something he doesn't do much, and into Vaxbrain ("We had a deal, Matt.") to Express how unhappy he was that Vex was drowning and the deal he'd made was being routed and I think that's proof enough that Vax would if allowed absolutely come down there and rescue his family from any and all scrapes if he was able to,

Now with this latest episode, We saw Otohan bedecked Paragon's Call with RQ's symbols, we know Otohan has the poison that prevents you from being rezzed which is an affront to RQ's domain and position if I've ever heard one, we know the attack on Kiki was on purpose and possibly to get RQ's attention, get her looking and all, and this whole situation with Ludinus is the biggest threat yet faced to all the gods and all their domains,

And that's why she let Vax through the gates this time, just in time to wrest that permadeath dagger away from the heart of the love of his life. I don't think Vax could have been there without the requisite chips falling where they did, without RQ letting him, I think the thought that he busted through all of those gates unprompted and w/o permission is a little disingenuous because Vax would want to do that for any and every one of his family members every day all the time forever, but it makes perfect sense that as the Raven Queen's champion he would be sent down to stop Ludinus from freeing Predathos and it makes perfect sense for Vax to veer off from his official business, to shirk his responsibility and use the opportunity given to go to her, to do such a grand and meaningful gesture for his one true love, and tl sound so unclouded and present while doing so, I mean

This is Vax we're talking about. The guy who looked death (death herself both times y'know, Otohan and her dagger and RQ, two sides of a coin or something) right in the eye, twice, clutching his girls to him and telling that nigh all powerful entity to fuck right off cuz they can't have these girls he loves more than life? Peak Vax behavior. To know he's been watching Keyleth for so long finally seized his moment to help her, and did so with gusto? True love. The purest kind, the Vax-iest kind. Not even death can stop his love for her, for Vex, for Vox Machina.

And I think after this all is over they need to renegotiate the terms of Vax's service so he can stay back past the gates with the rest of his family cuz RQ is a stingy bitch and should have been MUCH laxer with gate-crossing privileges, I mean Vax has more than earned it now

[b00tyliciousbabe]

Guys who could rearrange and flood my guts…pt 1

Welcome to the new hit series, “Guys who I need to clap tf out of my fat ass cheeks.” DISCLAIMER: do not judge me, i fantasise a lot but (unfortunately) irl I ain’t done anything (yet 🤭)

Logan Mandeville

WARNING: THIS IS LONG AF AND NOT PROOFREAD BUT ENJOY.

This guy just gives off BDE, I mean look at him; the toned abs, the strong arms, the body hair - he’s a fucking unit. In my opinion, he’s ugly hot as well, one of my biggest weaknesses. I’m from the UK and he legit looks like one of those white chavs/roadmen that would spark you if you even looked at them, and I find that so attractive. Ughhh I can just imagine him talking so tough and chavvy 😩 but at the same time I can picture him with a Boston accent and that literally makes me wanna suck the soul out of his dick. I kinda think I’m projecting my dream guy qualities onto him because I find him so leng but idc because I love it MWAHAHAAAA

Keeping the roadman aesthetic, I keep fantasing abt sucking him off in his tracksuit and eventually him piping me on the hood of his car. Let’s visualise, he looks like a Liam so for the sake of smut that’s what we are gonna call him…

(setting the scene: you guys are at a party)

It was a cool autumn night,

“Babe you look so fit tonight.” Your boyfriend said grabbing your waist and pulling your lips together. He had always loved seeing you in his brown leather jacket, it looked so big on you, but everyone loved how you styled the look. The kiss lasted for what felt like forever. The lights, the music, the people all drowned out, the only think that mattered rn was the two of you. “So do you,” you said as he stopped tongue fucking your mouth.

See the relationship u had with him was something special. From the moment he laid eyes on you, Liam wanted you to be his. Everyone at school loved you - the nerds, the band kids, the cheerleaders even the students who were basically alienated. What wasn’t to love? All of them…except the homophobes 🤮🤮, and since Liam was captain of the football team, he was guilty by association. That didn’t stop you from finding him attractive. You guys were never even meant to meet. But the day your lives became the storyline of an American teen show and he needed to raise his grade in English, was the day you both SAW each other.

“I’m never going to be as smart as you, no one can compare to the way you are.” Liam told you, and if you weren’t black, you would’ve even as bright as a tomato. “Look at me, you are gonna ace that test, you’re smarter than you give yourself credit for Li” You smiled at him, the eye contact just increasing the sexual tension between you two. “Tell you what,” he said licking his lips whilst staring at you twirling your hair and marking his essay, “if I pass this exam” “WHENNN” you interrupted, “when I pass this exam, would you wanna, maybe go on a date?” You smiled at him so innocently, “Of course, but it means you have to get at least 70%” “70%!! I’m barely pushing 50, omds.” Stop talking negatively, i want you to pass more than you think I do, now more than ever” I defended as Liam smirked at your newfound interest in being with him. Your bf went onto get a 87% in the exam, 2nd highest to ur 98%, and ofc that meant you had to go on a date.

(BACK TO THE STORY) you left him to chat to his teammates who loved your relationship, talk abt growth 👏👏 you went to talk to some of your best friends and the vibe was just so good. Everyone was dancing to the Weeknd. It was crazy in a good way obv. All of a sudden the captain of your school’s rival team starts touching on you. “yooo chill, don’t touch on me like that,” you said and your friends helped you to forget about him. “He’s such a perv, as if you would do anything,” they said “I know right, like I know I look good but come on” you attested. But he didn’t stop and Liam could see you were uncomfortable from the other side of the room. He stared with anger, as he downed his shot of whiskey. He moved towards you. “Is there a problem here babe,” he kissed your cheek as he hugged you from behind. “Nah, Li there’s no issue,” you smiled smugly at the dickhead who tried moving to you. “Can we go love?” You stared up at him. “Of course.” He said gripping your waist tighter, your eyes calming him down. You held his hand, rubbing his forearm to soothe him. “Yh Liam, listen to your lil (f-slur) bitch,” The whole party turned silent. He stopped walking, and you looked back at him to see he was fuming. “Li-Li, just ignore him,” you said with teary ish eyes and shallowed breath. He wiped your cheek. “You go I’ll see you in a bit,” He signalled to your friends to take you outside. “No, I ain’t leaving without you” you gripped his hand. “Babe, I’ll be out in a minute, just go”. Your friends helped you get out of there. The rest was a blur; You remember that your man walked out of that house with a bloodied shirt and blood covered broken knuckles, but at least he was consciously walking, and didn’t have to spend 6 months on life support, limping with a leg that would never kick the same. But hey, no one messes with you.

[crackedmultifandom]

why can’t you see, you belong with me | thiam

i wrote this in the middle of the night, while I was falling in and out of sleep. so pls forgive me if it’s not as perfect as I wanted it to be.

i imagined giovanni as jacob elordi while writing this.

no warnings except for theo’s past being mentioned and talking about bones breaking (nothing graphic described), if you notice something pls feel free to contact me! 🫶🏻

Liam liked seeing Theo like this. Open. Joking around. Smiling and laughing. He loved it, not only because Theo looked so pretty doing all that, because happiness looks really good on him. But also because Theo is finally letting himself be free, letting himself be a teenager, letting himself be happy. Something that was taken away from him when he was only nine years old. But something was stopping Theo. He was happy, yes. But Liam could see that there was something missing. That Theo didn’t allow it to fully consume him. Happiness. It took Theo a long time to get to that point. To let himself be accepted in the Puppy Pack. To let himself have fun. And even now, he still has his moments. Still has nightmares that take away his breath, makes him want to stop trying. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t stop trying, because Liam, and his friends (Theo’s friends), are there to catch him whenever he falls. Liam never regretted getting Theo out of hell. At first maybe, when all Theo did was getting on his nerves, always appearing out of nowhere and saving him. It made Liam mad. Made him feel weak. But the more it happened, the more it filled his chest, his heart, with warmth. It all shifted in the elevator. “I’m not dying for you”. That was a lie. Because when Liam noticed Theo looking at his lips, even if it was just a split second, he knew that he would die for the broken boy who saved him countless times before. A part of him hoped that Theo would kiss him. Would hold his face and whisper those words he desperately wanted to hear. That he liked him too. That he feels it too.

But that didn’t happen. Instead they fought together and when Theo took away Gabe’s pain, that’s when Liam knew. Something in Theo changed that night. Something between them changed in that hospital. They didn’t talk about the elevator. Liam asked if Theo was okay, because he knew how overwhelming it can be to take away someone’s pain for the first time. Theo never took away someone’s pain before. Never cared enough to do it. Always ever cursed someone’s pain. So after that night, he vanished. Three days of not hearing from Theo drove Liam up the wall. When Theo came back, he didn’t offer an explanation. Said he didn’t want to talk about it. Liam respected that. Theo stayed with Liam after that. Sorted out the guest room and made it his home. Their home. It took Theo some time to adjust to the love and affection of the Dunbar-Greyer family. And when he eventually came around, he opened up.

“I never really cared for anyone. I never even thought about taking away someone’s pain. And now, every time I think about it, it makes me feel like I’m drowning. Drowning in guilt for all the pain I caused”. That night, Liam just listened. Didn’t say much, too afraid he would scare him away.

“I’m proud of you. You’re trying. You’re changing. You’ve come so far and I’m glad that you trust me enough to open yourself up to me. Thank you”.

After that came the flirting. Stupid nicknames Theo would use to address Liam (Babe, Sweetheart, Darling). Soft touches on Liam’s part and just overall flirty and friendly moments. Only that Liam didn’t want it to be friendly. He pretends that he hates Theo’s nicknames for him, because he knows he can’t have that. Theo is a natural flirt. Not once did Theo hide his attraction for men. So Liam is confident enough to know that there could still be a small chance. But then he looks at Theo. Perfectly structured face, forest green eyes that sometimes look grey, big strong arms that he oh so often dreams about. Everything a guy wants. So why would perfect Theo, be with angry, clumsy, messy Liam?

Insecurities are a bummer. A really annoying, stupid bummer. It can hit anyone. Liam knows he’s pretty. Men and woman liked to flirt with him, compliment his eyes, his body, how athletic he is. And some guys really like his height. It’s cute. But is that enough for Theo? Does he think the same when he looks at him?

“Liam!” Scott’s loud voice pulls him out of his sad thoughts and pushes him back to reality. “This is Giovanni. He’s a first bitten beta, like you! I thought you guys could talk and be friends. He and his pack are going to be around a lot from now on” Scott had that puppy smile on his face and was talking louder than usual. Probably had a little bit too much of that wolfsbane laced beer. They where all gathered around Liam’s house. A new pack in town that came to stay and contacted Scott to talk. Having allies in a town like Beacon Hills doesn’t sound so stupid. The pack is nice. Their alpha, a beautiful woman named Julia greeted them with a warm smile and a bottle of wine when she first arrived. So far everything was going good.

Giovanni stepped forward from where he was hiding behind Scott and held out his hand. “Hey Liam, pleasure to meet you. Scott hasn’t stopped talking about you since I first meet him an hour ago”. That made Liam laugh. Scott truly acted like his father sometimes.

“Did he tell you the story about how he kidnapped me after he bit me” Giovanni’s eyes widened at that but he quickly chuckled when Liam started laughing as Scott tried to defend himself. “Stiles was on it too! I panicked okay, I never did something like that before”.

After that Liam and Giovanni took off to sit in the garden and have a drink. Liam liked Giovanni. He was nice, funny and charming. Short black hair, nice deep brown eyes and tall. Liam was a sucker for tall. There’s a reason for Brett being Liam’s first real crush. After two hours of joking around, telling crazy story’s and some flirting (mostly from Giovanni’s part), Mason came over, gave Giovanni a quick once over before he excused himself and Liam.

“I don’t know what’s going on but Theo is not in a good mood right now. He’s been grouchy for a few hours now. Can you please talk to him, he’s fuelling our vibes!” Mason cries out, dramatic as ever. With a sigh and a eye roll, Liam went over to Giovanni, told him he would be gone for another few minutes and wandered off to find Theo.

Theo, who was currently sitting on the couch in Liam’s living room, smushed between Brett and Alec. And yeah, he was in a bad mood. His mouth showed a frown and his eyebrows (his perfect, perfect eyebrows) practically touching each other with how hard he was glaring at the wall. Liam pushed Brett to the side and let himself fall next to Theo.

“What’s got your panties in a twist huh?” Theo looked over, his face relaxing a bit. But only a bit. “Nothing Liam. I’m fantastic, absolutely great. I’m having the time of my life, can’t you see?” And maybe Liam would’ve believed him, only if there was Theo’s monotone voice talking to him. Liam just stared back at Theo. “Liam it’s nothing alright? It’s stupid, just go and have fun.” With that Theo turned to Alec and started a conversation with him. And that kind of hurts Liam. Was he the problem? Did he do something to make Theo mad? He waited for another two minutes before standing up and going back to Giovanni.

“I hope your boyfriend isn’t mad that we’re-” “He’s not my boyfriend” came Liam’s immediate answer. Giovanni didn’t even finished speaking.

A smile made its way onto Giovanni’s lips. “Okay, so I can ask you out on a date?” Liam stopped there for a moment. Does he want that? Does he want Giovanni to ask him out? He looks good, is nice and charming, has a great humour. And Liam really needs to get over Theo or else, he will end up lonely forever, waiting for Theo to love him back.

“Yes you can” Liam’s smile was genuine. Maybe he could finally start moving on. “So, do you want to go on a date with me?”

Liam pretended to think about it, tapping his chin while looking up and making a soft “mhhh” sound. “I don’t know, are we going bowling?” “We’ll do whatever you want to do” “Okay, then it’s settled. Pick me up Saturday, 5pm and then we’ll go kick some balls”. He didn’t mean to say it like that, but it made Giovanni laugh so he didn’t really care how it sounded.

Theo was, once again, in a bad mood. And Liam didn’t know why. But he knew he was the reason for it. Saturday morning Liam woke up excited for his date. His first date since Hayden. That was a big deal for him. He spent a long time in the shower and went over to Theo to ask him for advice on what ti wear. And that’s where it started.

“I don’t know Liam and I don’t care what you wear ti your date. Just wear whatever you want”. It pissed Liam off. All he wanted was some support, some help with his outfits. What he got was a grumpy chimera who refused to even look at him for the rest of the day. He didn’t say goodbye, or wished Liam good luck or told him to have fun when Giovanni picked him up. It made Liam sad if he was being honest. One of his best friends, one of the most important person in his life can’t even pretend to be happy for him. For a split second, Liam thought that maybe Theo was jealous. Maybe he liked Liam too and didn’t want him to go on that date. He quickly threw that thought out of Giovanni’s car window and concentrated on his bowling partner.

The date went great, Liam had fun, found out some instresting stuff about Giovanni, who’s currently working with Scott and Deaton and hasn’t thought about Theo once. After bowling, Giovanni took him to a old diner in Beacon Hills, they laughed and flirted over some milkshakes and ended the night with a soft kiss, unitard by Liam, on Giovanni’s check. The smile Giovanni gave him made Liam blush.

Four months later and Theo distanced himself more and more from Liam. His relationship with Giovanni got stronger, while his friendship with Theo got weaker. Giovanni and Theo didn’t like each other. Constantly glaring at each other. Always talking about each other behind their backs, trying to make the other looks bad in front of Liam. And god was Liam done with it. At first Giovanni tried to befriend Theo, he really did. But Theo’s cold demeanour and rude remarks made Giovanni cold and distant when it came to Theo. It all went to shit at Brett’s birthday party. Liam asked him if he could bring Giovanni and Brett excitedly told him to bring his “super hot werwolf boyfriend”. Si he did. And Theo did not like that. At first they ignored each other, but when Giovanni’s hands wandered down Liam’s back as they stood with Corey and Mason, a voice behind them boomed.

“Do you really have to do that in front of everyone?” Theo’s voice dropped with venom.

“Shut the fuck up Theo. Stop being a child just because you want something you can’t have”.

A crunch, then another and another. Brett eventually pushed himself between them, grabbed both of their necks and kicked them out. “You two, grow the fuck up and talk about it like adults. Don’t talk to me until you guess settled everything”. And with that Brett went back in and left Theo and Giovanni standing in his driveway. Brett sudden change in demeanour kind of scared them. But what scared them more, was Liam’s pissed if face as he stormed out of the house seconds after Brett kicked them out.

“What the fuck is wrong with you too! One night, one fucking night, for our friends birthday!” Both boys were silent. After a few minutes of silence and staring at each other Giovanni spoke up first.

“I like you Liam and I know you like me too. But you don’t like me enough. And that’s fine. I guess I just wanted to hold on for as long as I could until it would all blow up.” Liam knew he was right, didn’t even try ti correct him. He just looked at him, tears filling up his eyes. “I’m so sorry”. It was a whisper but Giovanni still heard it.

“Don’t be Liam. We’re still friends and we’re still gonna hang out, eventually. Maybe. I just need to distance myself first and take some time to heal”. And with that, Giovanni, Liam’s now ex boyfriend was gone.

A few seconds go by. Liam pushing himself to ask Theo what he so desperately wants to know.

“What did he mean back there. When he said that you want something that you can’t have. What was he talking about?” A small part of Liam hoped it would mean, what he thought it means.

“I love you Liam. I’m so fucking in love with you and it makes me want to scream. I want you so bad that it makes it hard to breath. It want all of you, your good and your bad days. You weird humour and your clumsiness. I want to hold you, caress you, treat you like you deserve to be treated. You’re the prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life. I can’t be without you Liam. Ever” Theo took a moment to breath.

“I respect it, if you don’t feel the same. And I’m sorry that I ruined your relationship with Giovanni. Jealousy isn’t a great look on me, I know that now”.

Liam nodded his head.

“Okay”.

“Okay?”

“I love you too Theo. But I’m still mad at you. I really like Giovanni and he didn’t deserve the way you treated him” Liam paused “but he also didn’t deserve me not giving 100% in this relationship so I guess, it’s not all your fault”.

For a few minutes no one said anything.

Theo stepped towards Liam.

“Can I kiss you?” Liam shook his head.

“No. Not now. Not after what just happened with Giovanni.” Theo nodded and took a step back.

After Liam and Theo apologised to Brett, they drive home in silence. The next few days consisted of deep late night talks and soft touches.

And when Liam asked Theo to kiss him after a few weeks, Theo finally let himself be truly happy for once.

[dontaskmetodivide]

HIII I was wondering if you could do a one shot smut thing of Y/N and H getting high at a party and then like you sneak away and have a rough quicke? No pressure

based off this ask!! i most certainly can do this, hope you enjoy. i totally got carried away with the weed parts, but i couldn’t help it. i love writing bad ass girl characters who know what the hell they’re doing when it comes to smoking lol. 

tw: smut, posessive shit ig, yeah thats it, idk how to do tw

Harry’s tight grip on your hand is the only thing keeping you balanced as people on the make-shift dance floor are being knocked into you from every direction. Niall’s house party had definitely gone a little overboard, but you’re still enjoying yourself even if the night had only just begun.

The room smells of sweat and alcohol and you can almost see the condensation on the expensively decorated walls from all the bodies crowding the place. Colored strobe lights are the only thing illuminating the expensive penthouse living room and the bass from the speakers can be felt through the floor and up your feet. 

Harry doesn’t enjoy these parties as much as you, and while you were both homebodies at heart, you really did enjoy just letting loose and having fun once every now and then. 

You knock into your boyfriend’s body as he abruptly stops to slide open the balcony door. You had only just arrived and said hello to a few guests, stopping at the bar top after Niall begged to do group shots, before Harry was trying to escape the crowded living space. 

As he pulls you onto the balcony over looking the Colorado city below, the cool night air hits your skin and it feels like you can sigh of relief, finally getting a chance to air the sweat off your body that had so quickly accumulated. 

“Styles!” You hear to your left, both you and Harry turning your heads to see Liam and Zayn, as well as another party goer you hadn’t met before, sitting around a glass top table with a few ashtrays on top. “I told you he’d show.” Liam smacks Zayn’s shoulder who is puffing a blunt between his lips, not paying attention to Liam. 

Harry leads you to the table, sitting in a chair first before pulling you sideways onto his lap, lingering his hands on your thighs. “In the flesh.” Harry announces his entrance with a forced smile. 

Liam flicks his lighter on the dull end of his joint, rekindling the flame, and then tosses it to Harry, who catches it amazingly in one hand. You lace your arm around his neck and connect your hands on the side of his shoulder, hanging onto him like a koala bear. The contact causes Harry to lean forward and press a quick kiss to your cheek, almost out of reflex, before reaching into his front pocket of his very loosely buttoned shirt. 

He pulls out a joint and brings it to his mouth, letting it hang between his lips while he cups the flame from the lighter in his hands and brings it to the end of the joint. He lights it and lets a the first puff of smoke leave his mouth before he inhales a deep breath, the cherry butt lighting up brighter, and then he’s blowing the smoke out of the corner of his mouth after holding it for a second. 

The other boys at the table have already drifted into their own conversation, so it feels quite peaceful between you and Harry at the moment.

One of your favorite things to do with Harry on special occasions is smoke. Well, smoke and then fuck. You both are the kind to get super turned on when you’re high and it works perfectly for nights when you both just want to relax and spend time together. You never do it too often, neither of you wanting to rely on drugs or sex for any parts of the relationship, but it is definitely a sweet treat when the occasion arises. 

He repeats his movements from before, inhaling the smoke, holding it and exhaling it, keeping his eyes focused on his hands as he taps a small amount of ash off the end of it and onto the concrete patio flooring. 

To hell with the three ashtrays on the table, right?

His eyes flick up to yours, silently asking if you want some so you nod. He watches the joint as he places it between your lips, your two finger instinctively coming up to grasp the joint from him. As you puff on the joint, Harry’s olive green eyes trace over your face, repeatedly landing on your eyes and lips. 

You take it out of your mouth, jumping at the chance to attach your lips to his, not wanting to wait any longer to kiss him. He inhales the smoke for your lungs, quite literally taking your breath away, and when he pulls back to release the smoke, tilting his head straight up to the sky, you can’t help but let your mind wander as your eyes trace over his feeble neck. 

“Tha’s supposed to be my move.” He says as he looks back at you with a grin, but you just shrug and smile softly. 

“Sue me.” You tell him under your breath and you can’t help your eyes going back to his lips. 

“You wanna go-” Harry starts saying quietly, inching your faces closer before he gets unknowingly interrupted. 

“So Styles,” The man that I do not know starts saying, which makes Harry clench his jaw as he turns his attention to the cock block. “How’d your bet go on that game the other night?”

The conversation steers straight to sports topics, and you begin to find your only entertainment in the weed on the table, you and Harry quickly finishing the previously rolled joint. You turn your back to Harry so you can face the table, making sure to swivel your hips in just the right place to tease him, which has him harshly gripping your hip as he tries to remain focused on the conversation at hand. 

You take your time as you roll a blunt with the supplies on the table, trying your best to keep it all together in one piece. Harry always makes fun of your scrawny blunts, but you’ve been getting a lot better at rolling, especially with his help. 

You follow all the steps to curate the best blunt you can, focusing so intently that the conversation in the background has drowned out. You unpack a swisher sweet, unroll it, empty most of the tobacco, grind up the weed on hand, pepper it into the tobacco paper, and finish it by licking the seal shut, slightly crisping it with your lighter. 

Once you’re finished and your astonishing masterpiece is complete, you lean back on Harry’s chest, exhaling with relief. He wraps his arm around your stomach while still keeping his attention on whatever they’re speaking about, even though Harry is barely talking. 

You hold up your freshly rolled blunt in his eye line, forcing him to give you attention. “Tell me that’s not the best blunt I’ve ever rolled.” You snicker while twirling the thin stick in your finger tips. 

He hums in response, the sound going straight into your ears from his chest since you’re pressed so close together. “Beautiful craftsmanship.” He applauds as he raises one of his hands to take the blunt from you and inspect it more closely. You drop your hands to your chest, reaching in front of you to grab a lighter from the table. “I’d say you have one hell of a teacher.”

You sit up and shuffle around to be sat sideways on his lap again to share the joint. You enjoy the blunt in comfortable silence this time, just taking in each other’s motions and movements while passing it back and forth. You can tell you’re both way more high than before you smoked this one, but it’s only adding to the intensity between you two. 

Harry has excused himself from the conversation at this point and by the time the blunt is finished you get back around to what Harry was going to ask before he was interrupted. “How about I take you inside,” He says as he lightly traces a piece of hair behind your ear, “And find an empty room,” He leans in and presses his lips to the base of your throat. You put your hands on the back of his neck, holding yourself against him. “An empty room with a lock,” He adds before he kisses your neck once again. You cock your head back, giving him more room to explore. “And fuck your pretty pussy absolutely senseless, yeah?” He says with a gruff tone, finishing his run on sentence staring directly into your eyes. 

Your mouth has gone dry, and while it may be cotton mouth from the weed, you know that it’s really from the effects he has on you. “I think we could make that work.” You whisper back, slipping off Harry’s lap and grabbing his hand as he stands. 

You don’t even bother saying anything to the other guys at the table as Harry walks past you and leads you back inside. The pounding from the speakers turns into ear blisteringly loud music as you enter back into the room. 

Harry moves his hand to your waist, encapsulating you as he leads you to the stairs on the far wall. You feel your heart rate pick up and your breathing speed as you get closer to the array of bedroom doors. 

Your boyfriend’s grip on your waist stays sturdy as he walks to the closest door, spinning you and pining you against it, not even making it through the closed door. Luckily the hallway is empty and mostly quiet, apart from the music, so you aren’t worried about being caught. His breath cascades down your face and his added height on you has you looking up at him through your lashes. 

While you still have the confidence, you push against his chest and flip yourselves around, pining him against the door this time. He smirks, finding your small bravery cute. “Don’t get used to that, doll.” He says lowly into your ear. 

You move your hand to the door knob and twist it open, keeping your eyes on Harry’s, but as the door swings open you hear a high pitched giggle and a man’s voice shouting ‘occupied!’ but it’s too late, cause you’ve already seen the fit couple doogy-styling it up on the bare mattress. 

Harry snaps his head around to look into the room as you stand with wide eyes and a shocked expression, frozen in embarrassment. Once Harry has the slightest glance at what you’re staring at, he whips his head right back around and places his palm over your eyes. You quickly do the same, trying to cover his eyes while not seeing anything and as you get your hand in position, Harry’s body is pushing you forward and slamming the door shut behind him. 

You stand in silence, still covering each other’s eyes as you start to giggle. And the giggle turns into you both full on heaving up laughs while blinding each other outside the door. 

If anyone walked by right now, surely they’d think you two were insane, but neither of you can control your chuckles as you take in what just happened.

“Y/N,” Harry says as your laughs start to subside. “I’m going to remove my hand now, and I want to never speak about what we just saw.” 

You laugh and nod behind his palm. “Agreed.” You say and at that, you both lower your hands to see each other again, which only makes your own giggles release again. 

“I believe we were in the middle of something before our intrusion.” He says as he snakes one of his hands to your waist and you place on of his hands on his chest, stepping slightly closer.

“Now were we?” You play dumb with a coy smile. “You might have to refresh my memory.” You tease and he starts backwards walking to another closed door. 

This time he knocks and you wait in silence for any sign of human life on the other side, your ears pressed very close to the door. After a second more of silence, Harry slowly creaks open the door, peaking in and once confirming that you’re alone, yanking your arm in the door and shutting it behind you, being very sure to lock it. 

Harry’s lips crash against yours and his hands come up to your sides, pulling off the fabric of your top, taking your bra with it, and smoothly yanking his off by the back collar. You fiddle with his pants zipper as he moves his mouth to your neck and starts biting at your collar bone Your breathing increases as you slip your hand into his unbuttoned waist band, rubbing your hand over his cock and squeezing gently. He groans into your mouth before grabbing you by your hips and quite literally throwing you onto the bed like a rag doll. 

He discards his pants as he walks over to you, hovering naked over your clothed center. He kissed between your breasts, and then attacks each nipple while undoing the button on your jeans, a small whine coming from your throat as your hand tangles in his head of hair. He releases your pebbled nipple and kisses your stomach once before ripping your jeans and underwear off your legs and onto the floor.

He waists no time grabbing the backs of your thighs and pressing them against your body, devouring your pussy with no warning. You moan harshly into the air, fisting his curls as he stares up at you through his dark eye lashes. “Harry!” You squeak into the air as he nibbles on your clit before adding a finger to the mix, completely mutilating you within seconds. 

“Harry, fuck.” You moan into the air, squeezing your eyes shut as you already feel a fast approaching orgasm surfacing. You weren’t used to this quick of a pace, but your body adjusts fairly quickly. “Har- Harry if you k-keep that up I’m gonna-”

He abruptly stops his mouth and pulls back from your center, his chin shiny with your arousal. “Don’t cum til I say so, pet. I mean it.” He says with deep conviction in his voice despite the cute name, 

Harry then grabs your hips and rolls you over so that your ass is to him. He yanks on your hips and props them up so that his hips are lined up with yours. Without warning, he’s pushing into you from behind, sinking all the way in, erupting a moan from both of your chests. “Shit, Y/N”

He remains still for a moment, letting you adjust before he’s slowly pulling out and pushing right back in and bottoming out inside you. He gradually picks up the pace until he’s rocking into you with aggression. His hand slides up your back and latches into your hair, pulling your body back to be flush with his chest. 

“Who’s pussy is this?” He growls in your ear as his hips pivot up into you, the new angle reaching a whole new spot inside you. 

“Yours.” You pant out, breathless from the mind-blowing pace he’s managing to keep up. “My pussy’s yours, Harry.” 

“Good.” He rasps as he drops you back down onto the bed and pulling out. 

As you lay still for a second trying to catch your breath, Harry comes and lays right next to you. You twist your brows in confusion, but your questions are answered when he slips his hand under your stomach on top of the mattress and rolls you onto his chest. 

He wraps one arm around your shoulders, keeping the top half of your body locked against his, and he uses the other hand to guide his cock back into you. He props his feet up on the bed for leverage and starts thrusting up into your hips, the sound of your skin slapping together filling the room. Your thighs are hooked onto the outside of his, making you so wide and open for him. 

“Oh, God. Oh my God, Harry.” You whine, resting your head back in the crook of his neck as he wraps one of his arms around your stomach. 

Since the side of your head is pressed so close to his face, his moans and grunts filter straight into your ear, sending tingles down your spine. 

“Being such a good girl fo’ me.” Harry says breathlessly into your ear. “Takin’ my cock so well.” His accent getting thicker as he speaks lowly.

“Feels so good, H.” You whine, turning your face into his neck and sucking on a spot above his throat. “So fucking good.”

He slides his hand up from your stomach to your mouth, sticking two fingers on your tongue and you involuntarily suck on them, lathering them in saliva. 

“Does my little slut wanna cum now?” He asks, slipping his hand from your shoulders to your throat and squeezing at the sides. You nod incessantly in response with his fingers still tangled in his mouth. “Beg.” He taunts you as he drags his coated fingers down your stomach, to your heat, and starts rubbing fast circles on your clit. 

You moan loudly in response. “Please, please Harry. Please let me cum baby.” You beg, itching for your release. You’re practically whining as you beg, your toes curling and thighs startling to tremble. 

“Go on, cum for me darling.” He allows as he continues his assault on your clit, his thrusts getting sharper as he nears his end too.

You finally allow yourself to reach the peak you’d been chasing, your orgasm ripping through your insides. You thighs shake and you grab the sheets with one hand and death grip Harry’s curls behind you with the other hand. Your eyes feel like they’re rolling into the back of your head and the moans of Harry coming with you only spur on the moment. Your back arches as much as possible while still in his hold, and your mouth gapes open. 

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck, Y/N.” Harry’s grip on your throat absentmindedly tightens and he’s tilting his forehead into the side of your head as his heavy breaths warm your cheek. “Holy shit.”

Harry continues to play with your sensitive nerves as he slows his hip movements to a stop and you both relax your muscles, staggeringly attempting to catch your breath. 

He slowly pulls out from beneath you and you flinch from sensitivity. He scoots over slightly so that he can get out from under you. He’s still panting as he grabs his boxers from the floor, raising them to your heat and wiping at it softly in attempt to clean you up. 

You smile at him, your boyfriend always putting you first, even if it means he has cum stained boxers. 

Once the majority of the mess is cleaned up he plops right back down on the bed next to you, both of you turning to face the other with a small smile. 

“You’re my everything.” He tells you and leans forward, connecting his lips with yours as you both smile at each other. 

a/n; yuh hoped you like it. didn’t know how to end it and i didn’t want it to be some ‘i love you’ bullshit so heres a cringier off brand line to end it. lmk what you think, love you all!

[hurting-fictional-people]

Betrayal Story - part 5

This is it guys, this is why the characters got names! I hope y’all like it <3  

CW: branding, burning, forced to watch, emeto (pretty brief and only at the end), whumpee restrained to a table, nonsexual noncon touch, hurt no confort again but that will change eventually I promise lol

tagging  @thelazywitchphotographer @swift-perseides @whump-it-like-its-hot  @sunflower1000  @msrandonstuff @fromtheo-withlove  @boxofsilence  @lionhxartx @sometouchofmadness @paleassprince @livingforthewhump (let me know if you ever want me to stop or start tagging you ♡)

Part one is here, continued from here

-

Fire is strangely beautiful, Liam thinks, watching it flicker and dance in the hearth. A kind of painful beauty that hurts to see, the idea of touching it enough for gooseflesh to rise, but pretty nonetheless. 

He wishes he could be like fire. Not because of its beauty, but because it produces no shadow. No darkness comes from the flames, only light. And pain, when touched without notice. If he could be like that, only light and self-defense, maybe all of this wouldn’t hurt so much. Chase’s leaving, the dread of what each of his breaths might bring as time passes, the plummeting of his stomach every time he hears footsteps outside his room’s door. 

The flames crackle, and Liam wonders why it is he can’t shake the fear off, as he remembers the guards bursting into his room and pulling him out of bed, leading him outside as Liam pretended each step didn’t make him want to scream. That was minutes ago, and yet the fear still drums in tandem with his heart, pulsating turmoil into his bloodstream. Why feel fear when all it does is make things worse? Wouldn’t it be easier if he could just be at peace in those moments between pain, before it comes? But instead, his mind or his body or his soul decides to fill him with dread – only another layer of horror he cannot avoid.

Jonah was waiting for him when they brought Liam inside a weirdly cozy living room, leaning against the fireplace and watching Liam’s uncertain footsteps as he was pushed down to lie on a steel table placed in the middle of the room. Eyes glued to him as Liam was restrained until he could no longer move. His gaze went straight to the fireplace and stayed there since, watching the flames as memories of electricity, lighting up his every nerve until he nearly lost his voice to screaming, flashed before his eyes. The memory is still fresh enough to freeze him into not resisting. What a pitiful sight he must be.

“Hello there,” Jonah smiles, taking casual steps towards him and stopping by his side to watch from above, hands in his pockets as if having someone tied to a table in his living room is nothing out of the ordinary. “How are you today, Liam? Has your voice returned after our last encounter?”

He lifts his gaze to find the man’s eyes blinking innocently at him.

“You are sick,” Liam rasps out, shaky and small, but the words are there. He might be restrained and scared, but he is not broken. He isn’t. Right?

“That’s a yes, then. Very good, I like to hear you,” scream – he doesn’t even have to finish the sentence for the word to be heard. Liam feels sick. “Now let’s call our mutual friend, shall we?”

Liam narrows his eyes as Jonah types something on his phone. He can’t be talking about– 

“Chase!” Jonah says to the camera Liam only now notices a few paces away, held by another one of Jonah’s men. He tries to hear more, but Jonah comes so close to the camera and talks in such a low voice that all he grasps and holds on to is the name. 

Jaw clenched and stomach churning, Liam stares at the ceiling, letting the wave of bitter rage break against him without resistance. It wins the battle against fear for one moment, and that’s enough for him to seize it with every last bit of willpower. It is better to be angry than frightened, and he’s had enough of the latter for a lifetime.

The frantic beat of his heart turns into aching memories of Chase’s lies, promises of love he never intended to keep, each word meant to trick Liam into being a fool. Twice. Once months ago, then again when he genuinely, stupidly, hoped Chase would pick him instead of a job. Fucking ludicrous. 

But bitterness can only do so much to keep fear at bay, and when Jonah’s voice reaches his ears again, not even a minute later, it comes crashing back and flooding his veins with pointless adrenaline.

“He was a very good boy if you want to know. Just stood there, still and obedient as we buckled in the restraints,” he says to the camera, stopping beside Liam once more, placing a hand on his head. “Say hi to Chase, Liam boy.”

“Fuck you,” he spits. Fuck both of you, he means to complete, but Jonah’s hand is already closing on his hair, drawing out a pathetic little whimper from his lips.

“Language, Liam.”

He closes his eyes and waits for the hand to let go. It’s all he can do. Still, his hands twitch uselessly by his side, palms turned to the ceiling closing in fists, knuckles scraping against cold steel.

“I guess this is a lesson for both of you, then. For Chase to not be a prick and for you to behave better, my pretty plaything.”

Eyes snapping open, he glares up at Jonah, feeling indignation bubble up inside of him.

Jonah doesn’t even see it. He is too busy looking at his phone with an unamused expression before handing it to one of the guards. 

Is he talking to Chase? Is Chase delighting in seeing Liam like this, helpless and scared?

The part of him that refuses to give up entirely shakes its head, remembers gentle touches and tender gazes that couldn’t possibly have been faked. The other part, the one that grows each day he spends in this hell, purses its lips and scoffs at his naiveness. If Chase cared, he wouldn’t have left him here. 

“You know, if it wasn’t for Chase, this wouldn’t be happening,” Jonah says, painful grip turning into deceivingly soft fingers that run through Liam’s hair in mock sympathy. “He knew what I’d do if he pissed me off. So here we are again. It is always him, isn’t it Liam? It doesn’t matter how far Chase goes, he’s always the one causing you hurt.”

He tries to fight it. Of all the things he’s been put through, he fights the tears that prick his eyes. And just like everything else, he loses. They fall in warm drops down his temples as he turns his head, looks away into the fire again. No shadows there, nothing like the darkness seeping through the cracks of his heart, tainting his soul.

“Now for the fun part,” Jonah declares, sauntering to the fireplace, crouching down in front of it. Something entirely too close to panic pools in Liam’s stomach as he gets back up, holding two iron rods he’d dismissed as fire pokers. As Jonah approaches him, he can see with disturbing clarity how wrong he’d been – the rods’ bright-orange tips shine in intricate shapes. Letter shapes.

“J-Jonah,” he breathes, more sob than word, “please, please don’t.”

Jonah smiles at him, and without saying a word hands one of the brands to a guard before placing himself beside Liam’s exposed arm.

He tries to breathe, beg, say something, but every rational thought disappears as Liam follows the blazing hot shapes with wide eyes, gasping for air that refuses to fill his lungs.

He is almost there, the please I’ll do anything hanging from the tip of his tongue when the branding iron is lowered onto the delicate skin above his wrist. 

Burn could never describe the pain that steals every last bit of himself Liam tries to hold on to. Fire sinks into his skin, into muscle and bones until it reaches whatever lies within, and destroys everything in its path. He screams, cries and wails senseless pleads, but nothing passes through the ocean of agony he’s drowned in. 

He barely notices when the brand is pulled away.

He does when the second one is pressed onto his other arm though. 

Liam writhes and sobs, but there’s no escape, no mercy to be begged for. Only pain to feel, nothing, no one else but pain and pain and pain that swallows and dissolves the world into searing flames that hold nothing of whatever beauty he thought he saw.

-

You know, what really makes me mad isn’t even your fucking stupid idea of keeping things from me. It’s the shit job you did deleting those files. Who do you think I am, Chase?

That was all that waited for Chase when his phone buzzed, along with a link to a live stream instead of a video. No recording this time, no certainty that at least while Chase watches, Liam isn’t in pain anymore. 

“Chase. I see you’re faster now. Pity you’re no smarter,” Jonah sighed as soon as he clicked on the link. “But I won’t go into how fucking idiotic it was of you to delete half the information I asked you to get me,” he hissed, low and angry enough for Chase to feel the words as bugs crawling along his skin, up and down, circling his throat, ready to squeeze. “What’s happening here today is entirely on you. I hope you see and hear and remember every bit of it, sweetheart.”

He felt like screaming when Jonah closed his hand in Liam’s hair and made him yelp. The impulse to clench his fist until it shattered the phone was strong enough for Chase to connect the live stream to the television in his living room and bite on his lip when the image expanded and Liam’s terror became so painfully obvious.

One minute later, Chase nearly threw the phone at the wall when he called the man and Jonah simply looked down at his muted cell phone on the other side of the screen and handed it to someone else.

“You know, if it wasn’t for Chase, this wouldn’t be happening,” Jonah said, and Chase seethed, half anger and half guilt boiling inside of him. “He knew what I’d do if he pissed me off. So here we are again. It is always him, isn’t it Liam? It doesn’t matter how far Chase goes, he’s always the one causing you hurt.”

Chase dropped the phone in time to avoid crushing it, but the desk chair didn’t escape his rage. Its broken pieces fell on the other side of the room, doing nothing to soothe the horror building up in his stomach.

And then Jonah grabbed the branding iron, and Chase’s heart missed a beat at the sight, eyes widening in tandem with Liam’s.

“J-Jonah,” Liam choked out, “please, please don’t.”

“Jonah,” Chase said too, unable to hold it in just like anything else in his life, even if he knew he was the only one listening. There was never such a thing as restraint when it came to Liam. If only Chase had seen it sooner. “No–“

When the iron descended on that soft, silky, perfect skin above the restraint circling Liam’s wrist, Chase fell on his couch, legs too weak to hold his weight. 

Liam screamed, loud and raw and utterly hopeless, back trying to arch and being pulled back down by too tight restraints before it even left the table. His body spasmed, trying to escape the blaze, but there was nowhere to go, and it took only a moment for the despair to turn into sobs and tears.

It didn’t last more than a few seconds, but those would star Chase’s nightmares forever. Jonah pulled the iron off Liam’s now bright red skin, and Chase couldn’t bear to look at the letter-shaped burn. He also couldn’t help it. 

When Jonah exchanged the used iron with the second one, Chase felt bile rise in the back of his throat. “Please, p-please, please,” Liam begged, so little Chase barely heard it, so dazed he didn’t think Liam did either. 

He echoed it though.

“No, please don’t.”

But no one heard him, and the second branding iron was pressed to the inside of Liam’s other arm, and his mouth opened in a silent scream Chase heard nonetheless.

By the time the second one is pulled away, Chase is kneeling on the floor, hands covering his mouth and tears threatening to overflow.

It is nothing compared to Liam, though. His mouth hangs open even as the iron stops touching skin, and soft sobs wrack his slim body as his glassy eyes leak a constant stream of tears into his hair.

Chase doesn’t even move when Jonah’s voice leaves the speakers again.

“So? Do you like it?” he asks, a manic grin stretched across his lips as he points to Liam and the camera walks toward him. 

It focuses on his face first. Sweat, tears, pure agony written all over it. His eyes lay open and unfocused, lost to the pain. The image slides down to his heaving chest, restrained arms, until it stops above both his wrists.

Chase turns to the side and vomits at the sight. 

Two bright red burns mar the perfect skin he had once worshipped with lips and tongue and feather-light touches that never felt like enough. 

Jonah chuckles, and the live stream ends in that ghastly image of two letters forever engraved on Liam’s skin. Flourished and elegant, a C stands out on his right arm and an R on the left one. His initials. Chase Raymond. 

Chase pukes again, and then curls up on the floor and weeps.

(next)

[apherod]

Rubian Soulmate AU

I finally finished writing it ahhhh

I eventually decided that I was going for a sketch-style writing for this. Just short bits and pieces here and there, piecing together some scenes, but not fully fleshed out into a storyline (it coincides with the original story mostly anyway)

So here it is! Enjoy!

This is a Liam and Ruby Soulmate AU requested by an anon (possibly @thedarkestcrew?) ask, in which damage done to one half of the soulmate pair would translate to the other half. 

Word count: 4400

===

Liam

“Where did all these bruises come from?”

I was driving through Highway 95 in Maryland when I noticed the bruises crowning my knuckles. They just…appeared, like petals floating to the surface of water. It is possible that I punched something—or someone—at some point in the last few days, or tripped and fell, and using…my fists to break the fall? But I don’t recall doing any of that.

Then again, my head hadn’t been the most reliable in these past few weeks, either.

They weren’t the first. A couple of weeks ago, I woke up with a cut on my upper arm, and the blood drenched half of my sleeve, but the sleeve wasn’t torn or cut, so it couldn’t have been me… Another one came a few days after that, when I was driving, and a sudden searing pain came to my wrist, like I was burnt by a frying pan, but that part of my skin wasn’t even touching anything. The list goes on.

I think I’m going insane.

Some people…some who are lucky enough to find their soulmates, found themselves with identical wounds on them, because when one half of that bond gets hurt, the other one suffers, too. Mom’s bruises never translated onto our birth dad. Maybe that was why he was so okay with hurting her. It wasn’t until she met Harry, did that magic—or curse—work on both of them.

But that’s exactly that—it only happens after you’ve met the person. If I’ve somehow met her, and didn’t know who she was, then I’ve really screwed up. Big time.

It couldn’t have been anyone in Caledonia, otherwise I would’ve known. No one from home, either. There weren’t even that many of us left. Could it be someone from East River? For some reason, I just couldn’t be sure… There’re this weird quality in my memory when I think of East River, glowing tinge surrounding everything, blurring details, and flaring up the edges, making it hard to see for too long.

Also, if I met her in East River, why isn’t she with me?

If she’s really out there, I felt sorry for all the pain I’ve caused her in the past few days. When I narrowly escaped that group of Skip Tracers, my arms were all cut up, real pretty. I can’t imagine the horror she must have felt when her arms just, out of nowhere, started spontaneously bleeding half of her blood out.

I really ought to take better care of myself, even if it’s just for her sake.

When I crossed the state boarder into Pennsylvania, I managed to find an old payphone, and left a voice mail for my brother to let him know where I am, and that I’m coming his way. I didn’t want to—asking for Cole’s help was one of the few things that I genuinely want to avoid—but I’m really desperate.

The truth is, just imagining him gloating about this—about me needing his help—was almost enough to make me turn around. Think about the last time I asked for his help… didn’t work out so well, did it? But whatever Cole has to offer, whatever nightmare I have to live through going back to the League, is better than being hauled back into the camp.

I don’t think they’d actually take me back into a camp, anyway.

When I got passed the wrong Wilmington, I briefly glimpsed the road sign that read US 13, and a voice suddenly rang in my head.

Turn off here. It urged.

The feeling was distinctly different from my reluctance to meet Cole—it was a drive, asking me to go somewhere, rather than run from somewhere.

Whatever it was, I can’t listen, no matter how hard I wanted to, no matter how it warmed my heart just thinking about that impulse, like it would lead me home, even though I had no idea how.

I got into the city of Philadelphia, and found my brother’s apartment soon enough. When I got into his building, a woman threw me a sideway glance that made my hair stood on their ends.

Please don’t recognize me, please don’t recognize me, please don’t recognize me… I muttered in my head while I pressed the buzzer. The door swung opened, and I was snatched inside by a forceful arm.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Cole snarled before I could even lay eyes on him properly. “Why didn’t you call me when you got here?”

He looked much better than me, that much was clear. Cole never had any wound that wasn’t his own, and from the looks of him, he hadn’t seen much action lately. His hair was clean-cut, brushed neatly away from his face. He was wearing a white shirt and dark blue jeans, with metal-frame glasses which were clearly without diopters to finish the look. In this getup, you’d expect him to be a graduate student in U Penn, not a high school dropout.

“I… I didn’t have any money to place a call.” I muttered, feeling my voice getting smaller. Gosh, I hated this. I hated that I felt like a child again. I took off my jacket, and hung it on the peg right next to his. They were two identical black leather jackets, which Mom bought us years ago—she got them a couple of sizes bigger than we were at the time, in anticipation that we would eventually grow into them. Cole did, whereas I felt like I still hadn’t.

Cole let out a long and harsh breath, and gave me a scan head to toe. “You’ve seen better days.” He commented eventually, a subtle amusement in his tone. “Even for you, this is a bit excessive…” He gingerly lifted my right wrist, and got a good look at my forearm, all cut up.

You don’t say. I wanted to retort, but didn’t. “What are you doing in Philly?” I asked as I retracted my hand.

Cole raised an eyebrow. “You really want to know?”

Maybe not. “I’d probably know eventually, wouldn’t I?” I said.

He scratched his chin, frowning. “You know what this means, right? You know where we’re going?”

“Look, if I could just find Mom and Harry…” I began, but he raised his hand and stopped me.

“No,” He snapped, “We don’t have that kind of time. My assignment here is done. I’m being extracted at midnight, which is in less than four hours, and if you think I’d let you out running into the wild and being hauled into a camp again, you’d have another thought coming.”

Choose me. I remembered the subtext of what Cole said that night when he left home, and now it was ringing in a different tone. Now I don’t have a choice.

“All right.” I sighed. “Whatever you say.”

He frowned deeper. But it took him a while to say something. “Look, I know the last time you came with me, it didn’t end so well, but things are turning around.” He said, palms down, pacifying. “I promise, just stick it out a few months.”

“How do you know?” I asked.

He bit his lip. “I just do. Trust me.” He said, then gave me a tight smile, “Tell you what, I’ll go get us something to eat, and you clearly need a shower.” He took off his glasses, grabbed the keys, then, as if remembered something, added with a grin, “Do not, drown in the bathtub.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I rolled my eyes.

Before he could open the door, though, I stopped him. “Cole,” I began, but didn’t really know how to finish.

“Yeah?” He prompted.

“Have we...” I caught myself just for a moment. What am I doing? “...have we ever been to Virginia Beach?”

Because that…memory? was so vivid, that I couldn’t pretend it wasn’t there, calling me at every moment I so much as allowed my mind to idle for a second. But it also had that bright glare around it, like it didn’t really belong to me, like I was seeing it through a mirror, into a different dimension where we were all happier people.

Cole was there, looking exactly like how he was now, but Claire was also there, and that didn’t make any sense…

“No…?” Cole said, “We lived in Wilmington. We went to Wrightsville, remember?”

Of course I do, but… I shook my head. “It’s just… I kept seeing this…memory, that we were there, and Claire was there, too…”

Cole pressed his lips tight. I know mentioning Claire’s name would probably put him on edge, but it’s not like I have other people to talk about her with anyway. A part of me wanted to be a bit mean about it, but I couldn’t bring myself to. I didn’t have the strength.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said, voice rigid. “Just go take your shower. I’ll be back with the food.”

And he left, leaving me alone in his white and bare apartment.

I still couldn’t be sure that it was a good idea coming here. If I’m being honest with myself, it wasn’t even about my negative view on the League, or what it had turned my brother into, but that…I’m not sure how to be his brother anymore. I’m not even sure that he needs a brother.

Hell. Looking around this place, I got the feeling that a brother wasn’t the only thing he didn’t need. But then again, knowing how Cole kept his room, it was maybe a good thing that he had so few belongings here. This place…it didn’t even feel like someone actually live here; there were so few things breaking the white of the walls, it was almost glaring to my eyes.

I first went to check his bed, to see if he still has that weird habit—falling asleep with cigarettes still in his hand. His bedsheet looked clean enough; nothing charred. No ashtray, either. Maybe he quit.

Satisfied, I went to grab a t-shirt and a pair of pants from his closet, and dived into the pressurized water in his shower.

I can’t remember when was the last time I had running water. Probably…when I was in the League’s safe house? Gosh. My skin is so filthy, the water only started running clean after a good ten minutes of scrubbing, and I was scrubbing hard.

I was extra careful when I cleaned my arms, though. Not particularly because I was scared of pain, but more that I didn’t want to hurt this…person who might share this unfortunate connection with me, however low the chance might be. I didn’t want to make her suffer even more—somehow, I knew it was a her, for reasons I couldn’t quite put into words.

When I got out of the shower, I felt like my entire body had been turned inside out. My skin was glowing pink against the white tiling of Cole’s bathroom. He is an inch or two taller than me—which was sore to admit, but hey, I went through puberty in a lot worse condition than he did—so his pants hung a little too long around my ankles.

Then I finally got a good look at myself in the mirror. Damn, I looked awful. The dark shadows under my eyes were so purple, they looked almost black. Not to mention the countless scratches and bruises. There was a new one on my left cheek, just above the jawline. Whether it was mine or hers, I didn’t know.

Just as I threw the towel over my head, and started rubbing the water away from my hair, I heard it—siren. It began from a distance, a low wailing, but it was enough to set every hair on my back on its end. As I flew out of Cole’s shower, grabbed my jacket, and rushed to the window side, the siren got closer—and multiplied. The sound of them were like a harmony from hell.

Should I run? Should I stay?

I should run.

Even though they might not be coming for me, I knew better than to push my luck—it hadn’t really been on my side recently, and that woman who looked at me a second too long when I got in the building was probably proving me right. I threw the apartment door open, and on a second thought, ran for the roof instead of the ground floor.

I can reconvene with Cole later. I need to stay out of sight now. Cole’s a smart guy, he knows what to do in a situation like this.

It had started raining. I tripped on a mossy patch on the rooftop, and almost broke my jaw, but I stood up and kept running. I pushed myself over the ledge of the next building, and sprinted for the fire escape on the far end. The sound of the first bullet fired almost made me lose my bearing when I lowered myself onto the metal shaft.

They are on the other side. There were two fully populated buildings between me and those bullets, and they were firing at someone else—which means I’m not who they’re after. These are all good news.

Right?

Since when had I been that lucky after I turned twelve?

I pulled the hood of the jacket over my head, and dove into the shadow of the next alley. The gunfire had stopped, which meant that they probably got whoever they were after. I took the long way around the block, trying to get a hang of the situation, getting an idea of where I could find Cole without being spotted—

Oh, I found him alright.

Fuck. No. Fuck.

I only caught sight of him for a second before they slammed the back of that van shut, and in that brief second, he looked up, and he saw me.

No.

Christ. No. I… I got him caught. I did… I did this… Why didn’t I warn him? Why didn’t I go to him as soon as I heard the siren?

What have I done?

If you’re caught, you’re disavowed. I still remembered that phrase like it was etched into my skull. If anything encapsulates what I hate about the League the most, this is it. And now, Cole is going to be another casualty under that cold hard rule. The thought almost made my knees buckled, but instead of crashing down, I up and ran.

I ran. From this nightmare of my own making.

+++

Ruby

“Ruby!”

The scream came before the punch could land. I didn’t register what was happening in that first moment, not until the blood was dripping down my elbows, and staining the blue mats under us.

“Go to the infirmary!” Coach Johnson ordered, and I gladly obeyed. I could hear the whispering judgements forming even before I left the training room—what was that? What’s wrong with her? Where did those come from?

I knew exactly where they came from.

If Chubs was here, he’d likely yell at me for not getting these wounds taken care of immediately, but I simply…couldn’t. I ran for the shower stall, being careful not to stain the curtain, and turn on the tap.

With the water pouring out the showerhead, steaming up every bit of air around me, blurring my vision, I finally let the tears fall.

My arms didn’t hurt that much. At least, not as much as my heart. The bruises were bearable—who doesn’t get those occasionally living in the wild? I got one every other day even just from the training. But these cuts…he was in danger. Maybe he only got away with it within an inch of his life.

The only consolation I had was that I wasn’t mortally wounded, which meant he wasn’t, either. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t regret my decision of letting him go every second of every day.

If I did that to protect him, all these wounds and bruises only proved how wrong I was, how in vain my suffering had been.

“Ruby?” Cate’s voice.

I swallowed hard before answering. “Yes?”

“Are you all right?” She asked, standing outside of my stall.

“Yes.” I lied.

“Coach Johnson said you were hurt—” She didn’t buy it. “Look, if you don’t want to go to the infirmary, I can take a look—”

“I’m fine.” I cut her off. The timer on the tap beeped, warning me that the water would start running cold. My blood was dripping down from my fingers, dropping into the shallow water on the concrete floor like roses blooming in the snow.

“Ruby, I can see the blood.” Cate said dryly, then softer, coaxing. “Come out, please. Let me dress your wounds.”

Only if I could just close my eyes, and pretend for a second that the person who was waiting for me with antiseptic was Chubs, not Cate. If only I could pretend that these wounds were mine, not of the boy that I dreamt of every night for the past few months.

If only I could pretend that they were here with me, or that I wasn’t here at all.

I sighed, and brushed the curtain open. To Cate’s credit, she didn’t flinch at the sight of me. “Oh, Ruby…” She said with a tone like I was a stray cat ready to be put down. She reached out, and gingerly lifted my hand to get a better look at my arm.

“Press on it.” She handed me a towel, and sat down on the bench before patting the empty space beside her, motioning for me to join her.

I did as she said as she tore open a paper package. “This is going to hurt a little…” She gently dabbed the fabric square on my wounds, and I hissed out of reflex. I hated this. I hated showing her my weakness, and I guessed, in a weird way, she understood that. She didn’t comment on any of it, only continued to wrap my arms up in silence.

“There.” When she’s done, both of my forearms were wrapped entirely in gauzes.

“Th…thank you.” I managed to choke out.

She gave me a tender smile. “Don’t mention it.” She stood up, collecting the empty packages off the bench, and turned to leave.

Before she was out of the door, however, she turned around, and said, “You know, you get those wounds together, and you heal together, too.” She paused for a second, “You’re…not entirely helpless in this situation.”

Ten minutes after she left, I was still sitting on that bench, pondering her words. I didn’t even know what she said was true, but if it was, it meant that when I took care of myself, I took care of him, too. That, somehow, didn’t seem so bad.

I wondered how Cate knew that. She and Rob were clearly not soulmates, and I didn’t even know why she would want to date him, even without considering that fact. Rob—ruthless, arrogant, hateful—was everything opposite to what she seemed to hold dear.

But then again, she probably didn’t understand why someone would find their soulmate only to let them go on their own.

That day when I let Liam go, I made a decision that I would be whoever the League wants me to be, and make it so that they wouldn’t miss him. And for the longest time, I had kept to that promise. But not today, not now.

I just want to be myself again, even if it’s just for a moment.

So I brushed open the curtain to the stall, and allowed myself to be vulnerable again, for everyone and no one to see.

+++

His eyes traveled from my face to where the water had collected on my chest, and I raised my arms just that much higher.

His mouth half-opened for what I was sure to be a snide remark, but whatever it was never managed to pass his lips. His face froze, brows drew together, and he reached out. Before I could shift away—to where though, I had no idea; my back was already against the wall—he grabbed my wrist, and lifted my arm.

“It was you.” Cole said with a tone of half astonishment, half…anger?

“What was?” I raised an eyebrow at him, trying to hide how much I felt like a kid being caught red-handed, stealing candy bars.

He threw me a “really?” look. “Don’t insult my intelligence.” He snapped, “These are Liam’s, aren’t they?”

I almost asked “how do you know”, but that would confirm his suspicion. “What makes you say that?” I asked instead.

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not playing games with you.” He huffed, “Soulmates should stick together. What were you thinking sending him out into the wild? Do you have any idea how dangerous he is to you? Or you to him? The poor bastard doesn’t even know you exist!”

“And as long as I stay in the League, that fact shall remain.” I said, more resolute and calmer than I thought possible.

He blew out a sigh of exasperation. “Look, I don’t care what kind of sainthood complex you have going on, I’m telling you—you are not doing either of you any favors, and if you think this is somehow a good idea, I beg you, think again, because you definitely look smarter than this.”

“What do you know?” I retorted, finally couldn’t keep the lid on my anger anymore. “Do you have any idea how much he hates it here? How hard he was trying to avoid this place before you drag him into this mess?”

Cole really laughed. “You think I don’t know?” He raised an eyebrow at me, and I met his glare head on. “I was the one that let him go when he got away that first time.” He tried to brush his hair back with his hand, but it gave out a weird flex before he could reach his head. “And I’ve seen enough soulmates pairs in my life to know that I never want one. Have you any idea what would happen to him if you were injured when he was on the run? Soulmates stick together so they don’t double their chances on dying, but I guess no one ever set your logic straight, did they?”

My head was so flushed with anger that I actually let him finished.

“Go find him.” Cole snapped. “And for Christ’s sake, stay together this time.”

+++

Liam

“I didn’t need freedom; I needed you!” I half-screamed, trying to get the frustration out past the chaos raging in my head. How could I—? How could she—? What the hell—?

On the receiving end of my scream, Ruby’s face was painted with grief, lined with tears that almost made my anger buckle. Almost.

“Did you just…not want to be with me anymore?” Facing her silence, my pain came out softer eventually. Please, just tell me, and I will leave you alone.

“No…” She choked out. “I… I was wrong.” She swallowed hard before continuing, and despite the anger still roaming my vein, I wanted to reach out and touch her. “We should…we should stay together. I knew I couldn’t bear to see you with the League, see them take away all the good in you that I love…”

“Is that how you think of me?” I snapped before I realized what I was doing, “That I am so weak that the League is bound to break me?”

“No!” She shook her head violently, “No, I don’t think you are weak… If anything, I think you are much stronger than me. But I was weak.” She finally looked back at me, her green eyes gleaming in the dim light of this dust-covered room. “I’m so sorry.”

Before I could react to what she said—I didn’t even know what I was going to say or do—the sound of a gunshot broke every single thought clean out of my head.

Ruby was running before I could do anything about it. She pushed the door of the shop open, and another shot blew open the window on the outside, shattering the glass all over the floor.

“Ruby!” I shouted as I dodged, crouching with my hands over my ears, but she was already up and running again, out of the door and behind the woman that was escaping the scene—with a gun in her hands.

“Ruby, stop!” I shouted again, got on my feet to catch her, but I never manage. I skidded on the broken glass, and fell, hands first, into the shards.

I heard her hiss. She stopped dead on her way, and whirled around to find me on the floor, holding my right hand on my laps, pressing it against the fabric of my jeans to try and stop the bleeding.

The blood was dripping down to her fingers. As she walked slowly towards me, the red, looking almost black, dropped on the dust-covered floor, leaving a spotting route, marking her path. When she knelt down beside me, finally close enough to touch me, I found that she was smiling. A totally mirthless, wry and painful smile.

“Give me your hand.” She said softly, almost like a whisper.

“You should treat yours first.” I said, trying to catch her hand, to see how much of a damage I’d done.

“We only need to treat one of us.” She let out a small breath, almost like something caught there. “We get them together, and we heal them together, too.”

That, somehow, broke through all the mess in my head and reached my mind. I let her take my arm, and carefully wrap her scarf on my hand, all the while her words played on repeat in my head.

We get them together, and we heal them together, too.

When she was done wrapping my hand up, the wounds on her hand stopped bleeding, too. I didn’t know why—I wasn’t even completely over that anger or frustration—but when she placed her hand in mine, a tender “there” escaping her lips, all I wanted to do was kiss her.

Instead, I gently enveloped my fingers around her hand. “There.” I said, pressing my good hand over hers.

And we stayed in that silent, that touch, just a little while longer.

+++

[unbridgeabledistances]

prompt - casual touches/pda bc we don’t see much in the show!

<3 <3 ty so much for the prompt anon! this ask was sent in before the most recent ep (where we were fed ALL of the casual intimacy!) but i wanted to write a little something to maybe hopefully comfort some lingering discontent about the whole non-monogamy thing– so here is a communicative one-shot of ian and mickey discussing their boundaries and processing s5 traumas before 11x07! (w lots of soft touches😌)

--

It was one of those casual, routine evenings at the Gallagher house when Ian brought it up again, a couple of long weeks after that first conversation on the front porch under the streetlights. They were all lounging in the living room during the slow, undefined hours after dinner, when Carl and usually Ian and Mickey would sit hunched around the TV, passively watching some movie or cartoon while they scrolled through their phones.

That night, Debbie and Sandy were having some sort of erratic spat in the kitchen, and the shrieks back and forth were making it hard to hear the crashing and blaring of the action movie that Mickey had picked out coming from the TV’s speakers— after a couple minutes of trying to make out the movie’s dialogue, Carl stood up with a huff and flicked off the TV with the remote that had been shoved between the cushions of the chair in the corner, stretching and standing up to head down to the basement.

“Night, guys.”

“Night Carl,” Ian replied, and then kept looking down at the Instagram feed he’d been circling through for a good hour while trying to tune out Debbie once again shouting at Sandy for “traumatizing” her by keeping secrets. They’d had the same fight almost every night for the past few weeks since Debbie had discovered that Sandy was living in her car, and had been married to some random guy when she was a teenager or some shit like that— Ian honestly wasn’t even going to ask, but he’d heard the conversation enough times to be uninterested enough to drown it out.

Franny was sitting with splayed knees on the living room carpet, playing some elaborate game with Liam’s truck toys and little Lego construction workers, that had been stowed in the cabinet but Franny had somehow dug out a few weeks ago, causing yet another one of Debbie’s conniptions— and finally the voices in the kitchen trailed off, like they always did once Debbie ran out of steam and got tired of victimizing herself.

“Time for bed, Fran.”

Debbie came into the room and scooped Franny up from where she was sitting, trudging up the stairs with Franny in tow and Sandy trailing close behind—

And then suddenly it was just he and Mickey in the living room, pressed thigh-to-thigh and knee-to-knee beside each other on the couch, resting in the rare but comforting weight of the silence.

Mickey was slouched back on the couch, his chin practically touching his chest, playing some game that involved him turning his phone sideways and lazily shooting pixelated zombies. Ian looked over at him for a moment, taking in Mickey’s relaxed face and the solid press of Mickey’s body against his side…

And he had to fucking do it.

It wasn’t like Ian wanted to bring up the conversation again, about monogamy and boundaries and fuck-knows-what-else; but these past few weeks had been hard, like something cavernous was cracking and splintering between them. Their banter had slowly turned less and less humorous, and more pointed and jagged, about who was the breadwinner and who was the “man”; and even though they’d patched it up and built small bridges between them, and had hung off of each other’s bodies at Lip’s apartment the night Ian had brought up the monogamy conversation for the first time, Ian couldn’t help but feel the weight of the things unsaid wriggling and rustling inside him, like a germinating seed about to bloom.

Ian totally understood why, the moment he had mentioned “fucking other people” during that conversation on the porch, he had immediately felt Mickey’s knee stiffen where his palm had been resting on it. There was so much shit they hadn’t talked about—so it made sense that Mickey had immediately bristled when Ian had brought this all up the way that he did, and had put himself on high-alert and fled the scene the moment Carl came through the gate.

It would be so easy to just… not bring it up again. But Ian knew they needed to talk it out, and needed to let out all of the questions that were hanging on the edge of his lips like a ticking time bomb. If there was one thing that Ian knew, it was that Mickey was sensitive about this shit; the last thing that Ian wanted to do was crack and fall through the thin ice he was walking on and accidentally push Mickey away if he made some comment about another guy being hot, or if he reciprocated some dude checking him out at Kev’s gym— if Mickey had gotten upset at the fact that he only had 87% of Ian’s heart, some stupid comment that came out of Ian’s mouth before his brain could really process how he knew Mickey would feel about it, then how was Ian supposed to know what was and what wasn’t okay?

The problem was, talking about all of this shit so explicitly with Mickey felt like trying to walk upstream; things with he and Mickey had always just kind of… flowed, and had never been spelled out or agreed upon or set in stone, at least until he was leaving Mickey in prison and they kind of had to strongarm themselves into talking about what they wanted to future to hold. Even with the proposal and the marriage shit, they had just sort of stumbled their way into it, without explicitly needing to sit down and spell it all out. If he was being honest, Ian fucking loved that; he loved that he and Mickey’s relationship was a roller coaster, a high-speed train ride that they didn’t know the stops of. Things with Mickey just happened the way they were supposed to, in a way they never had with anyone else that Ian had ever been with. He remembered Trevor’s goading about boundaries and sex positivity and communication, and how at first it felt like Ian had marbles rolling around in his mouth as he tried to stumble over words like “ethical non-monogamy” and “compersion” and “polyamory”; it felt like he was speaking a foreign fucking language, like he was talking about things he couldn’t quite grasp— and he didn’t want to push Mickey into feeling that way. But as much as he hated it, he knew they had to at least talk about it; there were too many things left unsaid, too many holes they needed to patch up before slipping through one them.

So that’s why, with a gentle creeping of his fingertips from his own lap to rest on Mickey’s upper thigh, Ian said the words into the soft silence of the living room:

“Mick, we’ve gotta talk about the whole monogamy thing again.”

Instantly, in a sensation that was fully reminiscent of that night a few weeks ago, Ian felt Mickey’s torso stiffen beneath him.

Mickey sniffed, then hesitantly pressed his thumb up to his phone screen to pause the game he was playing mid-level. Mickey’s body was still slumped and leaning on the couch, but now there was a new rigidity to the way he was sitting, like he was bracing himself for something. He clicked off his phone and shoved it into his pocket, then looked down at his hands.

“Don’t know why you think we gotta talk about all this shit, man. We already did your thing with the paper and you said you didn’t wanna fuck other people.”

Ian let out a breath, then snaked an arm across the back of the couch so it was just barely touching where Mickey’s shoulders were leaning, just to where he could feel the heat radiating up from Mickey’s body. If he was going to fucking do this, he needed Mickey to be close to him—he needed their bodies to be pressed together a little more than they already were.

“Yeah, but I guess… I never really got a chance to hear how you feel.”

Mickey’s body tensed up again; Ian could feel his shoulders clenching beneath his where his arm was limply strewn across the back of the couch.

“I don’t know, man.”

Ian swallowed down the sudden wave of resentment he started to feel that Mickey wouldn’t just say what he was feeling, and took a deep breath. Sometimes Mickey just didn’t know how, and he needed to sit there and acclimate to the airwaves that were bouncing between them before Ian could pull something out of him, or before Mickey could pull something out of himself. Ian let them just sit there, and let himself fixate his eyes on the rise and fall of Mickey’s chest under his tattered t-shirt; and after a moment, he decided to give a gentle nudge, to at least get the ball rolling towards the depths of wherever Mickey’s head was at.

“So do you… wanna fuck other people?”

Mickey made an airy popping sound by smacking his lips together— like he was trying to do anything with his mouth except let words rest inside it, like he was trying to puncture the blanket of silence with a sharp sound. Ian waited.

“Or is it— that you think I want to fuck other people?” He could hear how cautious his own voice sounded, like he was tiptoeing onto uncertain territory, gently coursing into rough and uncharted waters.

Ian felt an almost imperceptible slump work its way back into Mickey’s rigid shoulders. Oh.

He leaned himself closer towards Mickey’s warm body, wrapping his arm down off the back of the couch and directly onto Mickey’s shoulders, feeling the soft bristles of Mickey’s hair pressing up against the crook of his elbow.

“Hey.” Ian tried to keep his voice soft, soft. “I know it fucking sucks, but we’ve gotta talk about this. I don’t ever wanna do shit you aren't okay with.”

Mickey raised his chin, leaning back onto Ian’s arm, and flickered his eyes to meet his gaze.

“You really don’t wanna fuck other people?”

It was the same question Mickey had asked the other night on the porch, the first time they'd had this conversation— but this time there was no bravado to it, no directness or volume like the way Mickey had asked that night with his eyebrows raised. This time he asked in a low voice, a voice that was husky and soft around the edges. Ian squeezed Mickey’s shoulder.

“Mickey, I got married to you. I don’t really know what you thought that meant— but for me, it pretty much means fucking you til the day I die.”

Mickey hesitantly rolled his eyes, blowing a puff of air out of his mouth. “But, like— fucking only me?”

Ian took a deep breath and steeled himself for the messier part of conversations like this, the part where he tried to get Mickey to split himself open. “You’ve gotta give me more than that, Mick. What’re you asking?”

Mickey looked down at his hands again, running his fingertips over a loose thread at the bottom of his shirt. “I don’t know, man. Guys are always droolin’ over you. Just don’t want to hold you back.” Ian felt the rise of Mickey’s shoulders, the breath of air being let into his lungs. “I just don’t wanna not be enough for you, or whatever. Don’t want you to regret shit a couple of years down the line.”

Not be enough for me? If this didn’t feel like a serious and slightly terrifying, fragile conversation to have, Ian could have laughed in Mickey’s face— how could Mickey think that he wasn’t enough for him, when he was the fucking focal point, at the center of everything? Ian didn’t know what words could radiate that out of him, could make Mickey get it— he opted for another squeeze of Mickey’s shoulders, and then migrated his hand under Mickey’s chin and forced their eyes to meet.

“Mick.” He tried to ooze every ounce of certainty, every ounce of resolve that he was feeling, into his voice. “You’re more than enough for me, are you fucking kidding? You’re all I ever think about— if you weren’t enough for me, I wouldn’t have married you. I know what that means, I always have.”

Even saying the words aloud, Ian quickly flashed back to it’s just a piece of paper, to back when Mickey smelled of cheap cologne and bitter smoke in an oversized tux— even then, Ian knew what marriage meant, knew the weight of it, and that’s why Mickey getting married that day tore him apart. Ian wouldn’t have done this, wouldn’t have said “I do” if he wasn’t ready for all of that— so why did Mickey think that he wasn’t?

The tension was creeping back in between Mickey’s shoulder blades. “Took you a while to decide to do that, though.”

Ian paused. They’d rehashed this shit enough times, but it still always stung to think back to when he was too wrapped up in his own shit to think outside of his own spirals of self-doubt, and left Mickey bleeding at the altar in the process. He didn’t know how to put it into words; Mickey had just always been everything, had always been a solid presence inside him, tugging at his heartstrings so tangibly that it made him ache; Ian had a bullshit complex about marriage, but not one about his iron-heavy commitment. Mickey had to understand that by now— but it seemed like there were scars there that still hadn’t been healed.

Which made Ian wonder— where else was this coming from?

Ian cupped his hand below Mickey’s chin again, raising his other hand from his lap and reaching up to push Mickey’s hair out of his face—a gentle touch, a touch to root him and give him something to hold on to more than anything else.

“Hey. Look at me.” Mickey’s eyes met his. “S’there anything else you’ve been holding in about this monogamy stuff?”

Mickey’s eyes flickered downward— and there it was, Mickey’s defenses were being raised, just like they always were at first. But Ian knew how to breach them, knew how to wait it out. He reached his hand downward, intertwining it with Mickey’s limp fingers and giving his hand a squeeze. Mickey dryly cleared his throat.

“You remember that night, before you, uh. You left with Yev or whatever. And you did the porno with that guy.”

Ian felt an ache of awareness rip through his solar plexus, as the words continued to tumble out of Mickey’s mouth.

“It fucking gutted me, man. That and… all the shit with you running off. Not coming to visit me in prison. And I know we’ve talked about it, and I know we’re over it, and I know wasn’t your fault; but I can’t stop feeling like this”—he paused, eyes flickering down at their clasped hands, their pair of silver rings— “that this might be too good to be true.”

Ian felt something hollow ache in his chest. He couldn’t believe they’d never really talked about all of this, never dug this deep, even in the endless blank calendar squares of their days and months in prison together— sure, Mickey had called out Ian’s shit about leaving him over and over again, but he’d never really said the words out loud, never pinpricked Ian’s actions so specifically.

He’d left Mickey, hadn’t he? Even when he didn't mean to, even when it wasn't his fault— that wasn't just going to go away.

A nauseating awareness started to drip through Ian’s veins. He sat frozen on the couch, planted there— not really sure what to say, not sure what words could patch the holes in something solid that he didn’t even realize were there all these years later. While his mind was whirring, Mickey spoke again— he met Ian’s eyes, and this time the iron shutters in his eyes betrayed a trace of pain, just sharp enough for Ian to barely see it.

“Can we go to bed? And talk about all this shit in the morning?”

Ian felt an indecipherable lump in his throat— and he nodded.

**

Mickey had climbed the stairs slowly, and Ian had trailed behind— and now Ian was laying flat in the bed, all changed into a worn tank top and boxers while Mickey brushed his teeth down the hall. Ian propped his upper back on a pillow he had shoved next to the wall, trying to sift through all the emotions that were swirling and buzzing in his head, threatening to pull him under. How was he supposed to fix this?

Mickey turned the corner into the room, lingered in the doorway. He looked deflated, and tired— and instantly, Ian needed to bridge the gap between them, need to feel Mickey warming the empty sheets beside him.

“C’mere.”

Mickey almost comically collapsed onto the bed like a ragdoll— between the conversation downstairs and the few moments they took apart in separate spaces, something small had dissipated, something had turned less brittle and was starting to bend. Ian instantly shifted to his side and wrapped his arms around Mickey, locking his fingers behind Mickey’s head, overtaking his sight line and holding him close in the bed. Mickey gave a half smile— an acknowledgement.

“Hey.” He heard the note of thickness in his own voice. “I’m so fucking sorry. For… everything. Fuck.”

Mickey coiled an arm around Ian’s waist, laying a palm on the small of his back, soaking him in.

“I know. Just gotta give me some time. And we've got all the time in the world, Gallagher.”

Ian breathed out. “Fuck. Yeah.”

He pulled Mickey closer, until Mickey was almost on top of his chest, his face pressed into the crook of Ian’s neck. He listened to Mickey’s steady breath, feeling the curls of it tickle his chin. Ian reached over to switch off the lamp on the bedside table, then pulled Mickey in closer, slotting a leg between his.

After a moment, he broke the silence.

“So. Monogamy?”

He felt Mickey’s chest vibrate with a breathy laugh. “I don’t know, man. What do you think?”

Ian grinned, feeling something fizzle out of him. He prodded Mickey in the side. “Come on, Mick. What do you want? Actually?”                                                     

Ian felt Mickey’s ribcage expand and retract from where he was pressed against him. “I don’t wanna fuck anyone else, man.” Ian breathed out; and he was about to let out a gust of see, that wasn’t that hard, was it— when Mickey spoke up again.

“But I guess… we could talk about doing stuff. Together?”

Holy shit.

Mickey’s words kept flowing, his breath running hot against Ian’s neck as his words floated through the dark room. “I don’t wanna be with any guy that isn’t you. But it might be kinda fun to like— I don’t know, try that shit some day? Like those hot fuckin’ pornos or whatever.” He breathed out a laugh. “Never thought I’d get to try that shit, and probably never will— but it’d be fun... to try? If you ever wanna.” Mickey paused. “But that’s where I draw the fucking line, man.”

Ian barked out a laugh—and instantly felt a weird, warm sense of pride welling up in his chest. This was Mickey asking for what he wanted—this was Mickey letting Ian in, letting him have all of it, and showing that he trusted him despite all the high and lows they’d both muddled through. This was miles beyond what he would have guessed Mickey would’ve been comfortable with, with all of his Terry-inflicted internalized homophobia still thawing somewhere deep inside him— but he was in. It honestly sounded... fucking hot, all the more because Mickey was so into the idea. 

Ian was so fucking glad that they were talking about this— if this was what Mickey wanted, at some point down the line, he would give it to him. He would give him everything.

Ian pressed a kiss to the curve of Mickey’s jaw, just below his earlobe. “God, Mick.”

Mickey just wriggled closer to Ian, almost like he was nervous. “Yeah?”

“If it makes you excited to do shit with other guys together—only together—than we can totally fucking do that. But only if you want to. I don’t need anything else, Mick— you’re all I need. You’ve gotta know that.”

For the first time in what felt like hours, the ice had thawed from behind Mickey’s eyes when he pulled back to meet Ian’s gaze— Ian could make out the glint of light in the darkness. “I know.”

And as he pulled Mickey’s close and pressed the pulse of their lips together, he was sure of one thing: that Mickey belonged to him, and he belonged to Mickey.

Whatever they tried (or didn’t try)—they would do it together.

[apiratewhopines]

In the Offing

Summary: AU - Storybrooke - Emma Swan is drafted to help Liam Jones clear his brother’s name in the disappearance of a former flame. As she digs deeper into the rash of missing person cases, she risks losing more than just her heart as she uncovers the truth.

Chapter One - Pilot

Summary: In which our heroine embarks on an adventure

“Let the exits pass, all the tar and glass

Til the road and sky align”

-Angela, The Lumineers

If asked, Emma Swan would land firmly in the ‘It was a dark and stormy night’ camp rather than the ‘Once Upon a Time’ one.

It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in happiness and true love and good triumphing over evil. She did. Or at least she tried to believe in them, which was nearly the same thing.

It was just that in her experience, relationships were more likely to end in indifference and divergent roads at best or disappointment, deceit and violence at their worst. It rarely ended in laughter over the dinner table, surrounded by the people you loved and admired. In fact, it never ended that way for her. And she was fine with that. Or at least she tried to believe she was, which was not nearly the same thing.

So it was without the slightest bit of surprise that she made her way back to her office from yet another honey trap date, her third this week if anyone was keeping track. She didn’t anymore, had stopped wondering years ago how there were so many cheating spouses and deadbeat dads and none too bright criminals in one city. Nor did she have the energy to wonder why she found her doorway blocked by the broad form of her sometimes collaborator, sometimes competitor, always annoying quasi-neighbor.

“What do you want, Liam? I’m not staying. I’m only dropping off paperwork so I can go home and mourn the loss of human decency uninterrupted.”

“Perhaps a bath would be more helpful, lass. You smell like a walking distillery,” he replied, not bothered by her unfriendly tone and refusal to meet his eyes as she elbowed him out of the way and unlocked the door. “Were you drowning your sorrows or were they drowning you?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I caught the guy who did this and he smells like jail now so I would say I won,” she muttered, bristling only a little bit when he followed her inside. She would like to say that she and Liam had a complicated relationship but the truth was they tolerated each other when they had to and avoided each other when they didn’t. She could count on him to be professional, which unfortunately was not a given in their line of work, and his complete disinterest in her as a person was a quality she appreciated, having never been someone who craved attention or willingly engaged in small talk.

Now that she thought about it, he was probably one of the better connections she had made in Boston. If his self-righteous, holier-than-thou attitude chafed at times...well, no one was perfect. She had met him when her boss moved their bail bonds office operations to their current location and with his private investigation business occupying the suite next door, they would throw work each other’s way when it made sense. Despite knowing him for nearly two years, she would be hard-pressed to recall a single interaction after hours or off the job so even though she was tired and her feet were killing her from running down tonight’s skip in stiletto heels, she was a little curious about why he was there. “Barry isn’t here.”

“If I was looking for Barry, this is the last place I would be.”

She snorted as she dropped off a packet of reports on the nearest desk. The truth was that her boss, who also happened to own the business, was probably cruising off the coast of Florida at that very moment and hadn’t stepped foot in the office since they moved. But she considered absenteeism a great quality in a boss so she wasn’t complaining.

Sighing, she turned around to face him. She leaned against the desk behind her and hoped he didn’t notice her flexing her feet in an attempt to keep them from cramping. “As nice as it is to catch up, I’ve had a long night. Why don’t you tell me what you want?”

“Henry mentioned that he was going to spend the summer with his father when he came by last week,” Liam stated as if that explained everything. Henry’s capacity to make friends never ceased to astound her and was definitely a characteristic he inherited from Neal. Even curmudgeonly Liam Jones had fallen victim to her kid’s ability to engage with anyone. Little did her visitor suspect that reminding her that she had nearly eight weeks of going home to an empty apartment was not the best way for him to start a conversation.

It had been with great trepidation that she had agreed to the trip at all. After years of fielding her son’s questions about his father, she used her considerable tracking skills to finally run her ex to ground about eighteen months ago. Enough time had passed for her to forgive him, although she doubted she would ever forget, but she felt she owed Henry the chance to at least meet his father. And of course, they had hit it off as she had both hoped for and feared.

She had worried, apparently needlessly so, that Neal would quickly lose interest in the son he hadn’t know existed and was inconveniently located in a different state. However, the man who had no issues with abandoning her a decade ago had surprised her. He called Henry every day and made the trip at least once a month to visit. He had shown up and supported Henry in ways she hadn’t expected and it reminded her that not all the times had been bad and maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t a villain. When Neal had approached her about a long distance trip that spanned their son’s entire summer break, her first reaction was to forbid it but she knew Henry needed it. Although she would never admit it to Neal, she had also appreciated that he had brought it up with her first rather than sending Henry to talk her into it.

Still, it had physically hurt her to see them walking away together at the airport yesterday, similar gaits and probably with matching, wide smiles on their faces.

Now her interaction with her son would be reduced to a couple of texts a day and FaceTime calls a few times a week while Henry had the time of his life gallivanting around California with his father and future stepmother. In a flash, she went from tired and curious to tired and pissed. “Right. Glad you reminded me before I made it home and called the police about a kidnapping. Did you need something, Liam, or are you just trying to bother me?”

“Both. Obviously,” he said dryly.

“Great, he’s got jokes,” she groaned as she threw her head back in frustration. “I should warn you that I’ve already punched one jerk tonight. I’m hungry and exhausted and if you don’t get on with it, I’m not afraid to add another one to the list.”

He sighed and for the first time she noticed the tenseness in the way he was holding himself. Whatever the reason for his visit, it obviously had him wound up pretty tightly. Against her better judgement, she felt her curiosity stirring again.

“Fine, since you’re obviously not fit to be out in public,” he said with a vague gesture toward her whiskey-flavored dress, “order some delivery and let’s talk.”

—

The smell of cheese did a lot to restore her good humor. She watched him from under her lashes as he looked at the meat-lovers pizza with what approached horror in his expression. She never pegged him as a health food nut, although she could tell he took care of himself, so maybe what offended him was the grease that had soaked through the box to the papers that were stacked neatly on his desk. Tearing off a large slice, she hummed happily while she took the first scorching bite.

“I need a favor,” he stated without preamble before he too took a bite and glanced at her with a pained look in his eye.

She was pretty sure that this was the first time he had ever uttered those words in his life and that was probably the source of his discomfort rather than the molten lava cheese he just swallowed. She tried not to show any interest even though hundreds of questions wanted to escape her mouth. She wanted to ask when they started doing favors for each other and why he was acting like a caged animal. Instead, she settled for something that he would probably find a bit more in character considering their past interactions. “Would this be the type of favor that involved payment of some sort?”

“It will, if that gets the job done quicker,” Liam answered, staring intently at his half eaten slice.

“Well, that would depend on if we’re talking about an hourly rate or a flat fee,” she joked. “I have typically found that payment is the best way to insure a job gets done.”

Something was definitely bothering him and damn if that didn’t make the hair on the back of her neck stand up and chase a shiver down her spine. With a hint of disgust she threw her uneaten crust down on her plate. She already knew that whatever he was about to ask, she was going to agree to so she continued, “Might as well spit it out, I would like to go home and get some sleep sometime this century. What kind of favor do you need?

“The kind of favor that involves going away for a couple of weeks and solving a cold case.”

Of all the things she thought he was going to ask, actual work didn’t even make the top ten list so she was a little letdown. His discomfort had her prepared for anything from being a date to an ex’s wedding to a surprise twist of being asked to babysit his previously unknown kids. Even a mundane request to water his plants while he was on vacation would have been more interesting. She wasn’t entirely sure Liam was human and it would have been fascinating to see the lair he crawled back to when he wasn’t in the office.

“Why the cloak and dagger routine? You made me think something was horribly wrong,” she huffed. Picking up another slice, she thoughtfully examined his face. There was more to this request but she was afraid she was going to have to drag it out of him based on his body language. His eyes were shuttered, shoulders hunched in on himself, body twisted slightly to the side as if he had decided this was a mistake and he was on the verge of running out of the room. While she would dearly love to see Liam Jones run away from his problems like a mere mortal, she was clearly already too invested to let that happen. Quickly swiping her fingers across a napkin to rid them of the worst of the grease, she gently laid her hand on his forearm to hold him in place. “Whatever you need to say, it will go no further.”

Apparently those were the magic words to unlock whatever secret he thought he needed to keep because with a sharp intake of breath, he started his tale. “There is a town in Maine...”

—

Hours later, he was dropping her off at the entrance to her building with a promise to pick her up at six o’clock the following evening. She wasn’t crazy about starting out that late or the fact that they would hit the tail end of rush hour traffic but her mind was swimming with too many details to make her normal fuss. Honestly, she would need all the time she could get to go through the files stuffed in the briefcase he passed off to her as she emerged from the car.

Without registering the journey upstairs, she found herself opening the door to her apartment and immediately kicked off her heels with a moan while her toes curled a little to celebrate their freedom. Her dress had climbed up her thighs a bit during the car ride but she had a feeling she was the only one who noticed. She was pretty sure she could have been naked and Liam wouldn’t have paid any attention. He was just that kind of guy. Considering they were about to embark on a trip to his former hometown where they may end up having to give the impression of a relationship, she should probably be grateful that his only attraction to her seemed to be limited to her ability to find people and her reputation for being a spookily accurate human lie detector. For her part, all she wanted from him was a couple weeks of distraction from what was surely going to turn out to be a lonely summer. If she was getting paid for it, all the better.

Leaving her shoes where they fell in the entranceway, she grabbed a hair band from the narrow table that she privately thought of as their crap collector. She had never been the neatest person and she had passed that trait on to Henry so you could never predict what random stuff would be found on the table that served no other purpose than to be a catch all for the things they discarded when they arrived home.

Styling her long blonde hair into a messy bun, she pulled her ruined dress over her head and casually threw it in the direction of the laundry basket. Taking advantage of the fact that there wasn’t a ten-year-old at home that would be traumatized by her behavior, she lugged the briefcase to the kitchen island and spread the files across the countertop before walking back to her closet to slip into a pair of black yoga pants and a Red Sox tank top, not wanting to take the time to shower at the moment. Besides, she was the only one home to know how bad the smell of whiskey and sweat was after sitting for hours in a small office, stuffing her face with the unhealthiest pizza on the planet and getting drawn into the web of mystery that had made the always serious Mr. Jones even more somber.

Pouring a glass of wine, she climbed up on one of stools that formed a line that ran the length of the counter and pulled the top file to her. The photo paper-clipped to the inside showed a rundown pawn shop that might as well have had a neon sign flashing ‘Shady Place of Business.’ Below it was a list of names from various missing persons cases spanning thirty years.

Taking the first sip of wine, she murmured, “What have you gotten me into, Liam?”

She spent the next several hours combing through the files until her back hurt and her contacts felt scratchy in her eyes. It seemed like Jones Investigation had a file for everyone that lived in the town at the time of the burglary as well as newspaper clipping from the various investigations into the suspicious disappearance of citizens.

It was too much information to take in during the course of one night but Liam had been insistent that the files remain in Boston. He didn’t want to risk tipping off any suspects to the real reason for their trip should the paperwork be discovered. So, under direct orders from the former British Naval officer to memorize the facts, when she reached the end of the files, she would start over again. She sorted and resorted the files into stacks based on a variety of factors from chronological order to some distinguishing characteristic like age, proximity to crime, or possible motive.

If her attention kept wondering back to the grainy photo of one Killian Jones, brother of her dour compatriot, she blamed the wine and lack of sleep. Even the low quality of the picture couldn’t conceal that the younger Jones brother was an incredibly attractive man. However, he looked enough like Liam to make her interest unsettling and that was what finally pulled her away from her research and drove her to bed where she dreamed of blue eyes and a wicked smile.

—

For most of the trip, the only sound was of the sports commentators who nearly shouted out a play-by-play of a soccer match Liam had politely asked to listen to as they pulled out of her parking garage. The only other break in their silent commute was the subtle hum and thump of road noise occasionally making its way into the cabin. He had been unimpressed with her offer to take her car, not even bothering to acknowledge her when she suggested it and simply opening the lift gate to the large, dark colored Honda Pilot he had rented. If he noticed her surprise at finding several bags already in the truck and heard her sarcastic observation about packing light as she had to reposition some of his luggage to find a spot for her single gym sized duffel bag, he didn’t show it.

As she had predicted, they spent an hour stuck in traffic before getting beyond the city limits where the cars spread out and their follow drivers seemed to think that allowed them to indulge in NASCAR fantasies. She used the quiet to mentally go over the particulars of the case before them, secure in the knowledge that unless she magically sprouted another head Liam was unlikely to start up a conversation at this point in the trip.

Fact One: Leo and Ava Blanchard left for a date night and never returned home to their young daughter. There car was found broken down on the side of the road about a mile from their home. No sign of foul play, no trace of their whereabouts.

Fact Two: Shortly thereafter, there was a burglary at Gold’s Pawnshop on Main Street. No sign of forced entry and the owner claimed nothing had been stolen, but the alarm had been tripped from the inside. Having nothing to go on and with no stolen items to track down, the local law enforcement devoted a total of five minutes to the case. Basically as soon as the report was filed, the case was closed and life moved on.

Fact Three: Robert Nolan had a few too many at a bar one night, which apparently was a reoccurring circumstance, and never found his way back to his family. He was rumored to be involved in some illicit activities but no proof of a crime was ever found.

Fact Four: There appeared to be a bit of a lull for more than a decade and then a rapid secession of missing person reports: Regina Mills, Peter Wolfe, and finally Milah Gold.

It was the last one that seemed to drive Liam’s interest in the cases. Although he and his brother hadn’t relocated to the US until the early 2000s, it seemed his little brother quickly formed an attachment, which Emma read between the lines to mean had an affair, with the older wife of the town’s local businessman. After his wife vanished into thin air, Mr. Gold and the local police tried their best to pin her disappearance on Killian but could never come up with enough evidence to press charges.

The final piece came through sources Liam was disinclined to name. He had recently found out that a newly arrived visitor had been asking questions around town and according to his source, the visitor was a best-selling true crime author named August Booth who happened to be weeks away from publishing a tell-all book about the sordid history of the town.

Going into full protective mode, Liam had decided the best course of action was to return to the small town and solve the mystery, or potentially multiple mysteries if they were as interconnected as he thought, thereby clearing his brother’s name beyond all doubt.

If it had been anyone else who had asked for her help, she would have been flattered but she knew Liam to be practical above all else. He valued her skills but it was probably Henry’s absence that was the catalyst for this particular partnership. He needed an extra set of eyes and ears and she was a known element who was conveniently available for a long term undercover assignment. Still, he had trusted her with the family secrets, or at least his brother’s secrets, so she was trying to be mindful this wasn’t simply another case for him.

She wasn’t convinced the non-burglary and series of disappearances he seemed to think connected would turn out to be anything but she knew better than to discard possibilities this early on. She also wasn’t convinced that parading in front of his family and friends as a girlfriend was a good game plan.

“I think we need to revisit this cover story,” she said as he pulled off the highway and into the lot of a gas station.

“If you can find a more convincing reason for me to show up with a strange woman, I will gladly listen to it,” he replied before exiting the car and fading away into the dark night.

“No, I wouldn’t like anything from the store, thanks for asking,”she called out to his back, wanting to nettle him in retaliation for his rudeness although she doubted he heard her. According to the GPS, they were only about forty-five minutes from their destination, a place called Granny’s Diner. She tried to research the town, including restaurants, venues, and things to do but it was as if Storybrooke existed out of the modern age. While you could find it on maps, there wasn’t an internet presence at all. There were no tourism sites, despite the fact that most little towns that dot the Atlantic coast were in peak season for welcoming travelers. It appeared that chains and national franchises had no interest in the sleepy town either. There were no notable residents making their marks on the world at large, no complaints on business sites, no reviews of the natural beauty to be found in its forests and parks.

The sound of Liam returning to the vehicle and pumping gas broke her train of thought. Hearing the gentle chime of her phone, she took the opportunity to check her texts before they got back on the road. Smiling a little at seeing Henry’s name on her notifications, she clicked the message and was rewarded with a silly photo of him pretending to be eaten by a shark at one of the selfie stations located on a pier in whatever seaside town they were currently visiting. She text him back a thumb’s up, following it quickly with a good night and reminder that she would send him the details of where she was staying in the morning.

Running her finger gently over her son’s happy grin in the photo, she didn’t greet Liam as he climbed back into the car.

“That’s a nice picture,” he mumbled, clicking his seatbelt in place before pulling out and rejoining the dwindling line of cars heading north. “Is he having a good time?”

“Looks like it,” she answered, turning her head away somewhat embarrassed to feel the prick of tears in her eyes. She wasn’t an emotional person but she missed the kid something fierce.

Either he was being exceptionally sensitive to her distress or he didn’t notice it because they lapsed back into silence until they were about fifteen minutes from the town line. Deciding next to the last minute was as a good a time to broach the topic again as any, she picked up on her earlier comment as if it hadn’t been over half an hour ago. “Listen, I’m not saying I have a better cover but maybe we could not volunteer the girlfriend story. You know, keep our options open unless someone asks us directly. Or maybe actually tell them we are there to investigate.”

Hope for a rational debate on the merits of her suggestions was immediately crushed when he actually started to laugh. “You’ve never lived in a small town, have you?”

“No, but what does that have to do with anything?”

“Emma, I left five years ago under some difficult circumstances—“

“What circumstances? How difficult?”

“That’s need to know, lass,” he interrupted in a tone that cautioned against any further questions. “If it had anything to do with our case, I would have already told you. Let me assure you that everyone will know of our arrival within minutes of the car entering town. There will be a description of you circulating before you wake up tomorrow morning. There is no way people aren’t going to ask us directly and repeatedly the nature of our visit and relationship.”

She was about to interrupt again so he held up a hand to stall her and added, “And if we decline to provide details, they will make them up. Trust me, it’s better to control the story than to have eyes following us everywhere trying figure it out for themselves. As far as openly investigating a crime, you’re daft if you think they won’t clam up the second you start asking questions. In my experience people are more comfortable being a gossip than a snitch. If we are simply a couple enjoying a trip down memory lane, we will be able to move much more freely.”

“But your brother,” she countered weakly because she had to admit he had a point. “How can you lie to him? Surely he can be trusted with the truth. Not to mention that if we are staying with him, he’s going to notice that we don’t like each other.”

“What are you talking about? I’m quite fond of you. You’re one of my best friends,” he said in indignation.

Her jaw went slack with shock as she tried to process how she had slipped into some bizarro alternate reality. What in their past could possibly have given him the idea that they were friends, besties even. “I don’t know what—“ she sputtered. “Is this some weird British thing?”

He barked out a laugh that was so unlike him that she doubled down on her alternate reality theory. “Calm down, Emma. It was a joke. We aren’t friends exactly but I don’t dislike you. It will be fine. Pretend I’m one of your fake dates for a couple of weeks. Lucky for you, I’m an old-fashioned guy. Killian won’t think anything of us bunking separately.”

“There is old-fashioned and then there is being a monk, Liam. But whatever. I still think you should trust your brother. Especially since it’s his neck we’re trying to save.”

“I would trust him with my life. What I can’t trust is that he won’t go off half-cocked and muck up the investigation. He’ll understand why I did this as long as we get results.”

She believed that he believed what he was saying. She also believed he was wrong. As a person who always preferred the truth, no matter how painful, her gut told her that it would be a mistake to keep the younger Jones in the dark about the true purpose of their trip. However, besties or not, she knew the mulish tilt to Liam’s mouth indicated that for him the discussion was over.

At that moment, the high beams illuminated the Welcome to Storybrooke sign. She felt an ominous dread settle over her as they approached, turning in her seat to look at the sign as they passed.

It was the last thing she saw before the world exploded in glass shards, twisted metal, and smoke.

[caramelcal]

The Truth Hurts...{part nine}

Every time your soulmate lies, a mark presents itself on your body. In a world like this, people normally told the truth so that their soulmate didn’t have to deal with the consequences. But your soulmate? They seemed persistent to make your life hell, and mark your body until there was no skin left.

Word Count: 1.8k

a/n: i just finished this but im not gonna keep you guys waiting...i aint saying no more...

Taglist:  (comment if you want to be added, or you can message me) @itsjustmeiguessallrightthen​ @moonbeams-stuff  @cece-lives-here​ @aprilfire18​ @adrianaprox​ @slytherinrising​ @deadric

Warnings: Mentions of death, blood, betrayal, and swearing. 

disclaimer: i do not condone plagiarism on my work at all, this has not been posted on any other platforms, or on tumblr anywhere else but my account (rosemoonmist) if you see anyone plagiarizing mine (or anyone else’s account) please inform the rightful author ! thank you lovelies x

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Corey was dead and now that you stood in the Sinema, seeing the needle go in and Hayden’s eyes fill with mercury, you couldn’t help the shout that came out of your mouth. The Dread Doctors hadn’t been seen in five days, no new chimeras and no deaths but every sense of security that you had felt in Beacon Hills over the past few days was hopelessly ripped away from you at that moment. Not caring about the foe there, you ran towards Hayden who fell to the floor.

Hayden was holding her neck when you and Liam had rushed over to her, her eyes no longer filled with mercury.

“Her eyes,” You spoke, your voice wavering as Scott and Theo came running in, body drowning in worry for the younger girl as you spoke, “they filled with mercury. I saw it, a-and now she looks fine but her eyes-”

“It’s okay, she looks fine, maybe she’ll heal,” Theo replied reassuringly, making you turn towards him. He immediately picked up on your worry, pulling you closer to his side whilst you looked up at him.

“None of the others did, Theo. I can’t deal with another body,” You whispered back, peering up at his blue eyes, making him form a small frown. He knew what you had been through, he knew the pain and suffrage between dead bodies and new threats. He hadn’t seen the pain these troubles inflicted upon you when you first met, but now it was clear as day. The more he got to know you, the more he seen what a toll the bodies took on you, the way the supernatural secret depleted your mental health.

Maybe he should’ve stopped. Seeing the broken look in your eyes, the way your eyes were silently begging him to stop without your knowledge, the way that he felt a small bubbling feeling of guilt as he looked down at you, his soulmate. To be with you he knew he had to stop. But he didn’t.

. . .

“Lydia?” You called out in confusion, your phone up to your ear as you answered the unsuspected phone call.

All you were met with was silence. An impending doom seemed to filter over your head, you knew that the Dread Doctors were attacking, that’s why you found yourself at the school. Yet, it was stupid to be alone but you knew that. Everyone was all over the place and you had hardly heard from anyone all night, which certainly didn’t do anything to calm your nerves.

You just hoped that Lydia would answer, give you some sort of useful information, or just at least let you know that she was alright. That she was safe and well. Alas, you didn’t get that, and instead, you made yet another attempt to get the girl to talk.

“Lydia is everything alright?” You called out, voice loud as you tried to get some sort of reply from your caller, “Lydia?”

No voice came from the other side and nerves and worry etched at your stomach. What if something was wrong? What if Lydia was hurt, or the Dread Doctors had taken her? Yet, your mind didn’t stay on her long as a large and pained howl sounded throughout the air.

The howl was one you had heard before, pain etched through the noise in a way only you could unpick. Eyes wide, you whispered in horror, “Scott.”

. . .

Seeing your unofficial boyfriend’s nails embedded deep into your best friend’s chest caused a scream to come out of you that was unlike anything that they had ever heard. Lydia’s screams, no matter how daunting and loud they were, would never match the utter pain and betrayal in yours. Your legs felt weak, you felt sick and your eyes filled with tears as Theo got up, chest heaving in power.

Before you even had time to be rational, you ran and you punched him in the face. Your other fist came up to strike him again as he caught both of your hands, and you chose to flail your leg out to kick him, one without much power that done zero damage; a lot less than you hoped to cause. You wanted to make Theo feel pain, to equal his physical pain to the emotional pain he had caused you, and for the killing of your best friend.

His eyes still glowed yellow, and your breath caught in your throat as you stared at him, his claws which were covered in your best friend’s blood gripping tightly onto your wrists with no plans to let go. You were elevated above the ground, and legs flailed with the best attempt to escape but it was futile. Eyes staying focused on him you spoke, tears building up thickly, “You bastard.”

“I’m sorry this is how it had to be, y/n,” Theo replies coolly, with no guilt in his voice. He didn’t care, he had consciously killed Scott for no reason and you would never forgive him for this. Ever.

“It never had to be like this, nothing ever justifies this,” You spat back, tears clouding your vision and blocking your throat whilst you stared down at the corpse of one of your best friends.

“You’ll understand, y/n/n, you’ll understand one day,” Theo said before dropping his grip on you, going to walk away from you and out of the library, completely unbothered by the destruction he had caused.

“That’s my best friend, you dickhead!” You ran up behind him, shouting at the top of your lungs making him stop in his tracks, “You, you were supposed to be our friend, I’ve known you since we were kids...How could you do this?”

Theo looked over his shoulder at you before slowly turning around looking down at you with a dangerous look in his eyes. He stalked towards you, his stance wide, almost intimidating, “He was your best friend. Not anymore. There was no room for him in my pack.”

You maintained eye contact with him, e/c eyes trying to look into the blue eyes despite the darkness in the room. It was several moments before you spoke again, your voice bitter as you asked, “Your pack?”

“Yes, y/n, my pack,” Theo replied with a slight nod of his head, walking even closer to you until your bodies were leaning against one another; barely leaving any room for breathing as you stared up at him. He peered down at you, before flashing his eyes at you, his voice stony like he was trying to enforce power, “I’m your alpha now.”

He ducked his head down so that it was closer to yours, his eyes no longer glowing whilst you guys stood in silence. The tension was thick as you looked back up at Theo, feeling his breath fan across your face, almost as if he was going to kiss you. Then, he started to lean in, your lips slowly reaching each other before his face was flung to the side.

You took a step back, your hand still held up after the action you had just indulged in as you stared at Theo with wide eyes, for a human you surely put a lot of force into that slap.

“Let’s get one thing clear, Theodore. You are and will never be my alpha.”

His hand hesitated but he lifted it to his face, touching the area that was already starting to mark red of where you slapped, before an annoyed smirk made its way onto his face, making him laugh. The laugh was chilling but you didn’t care at that moment, you would not back down no matter what. Not after what he did to Scott. Theo could kill you right here, right now, if it meant that you didn’t have to join his pack.

He looked back at you, his face now annoyed as he pointed at you. You weren’t sure if he was annoyed that you slapped him, or if you had slapped him and in the process rejected his kiss, but that didn’t matter either. He bared his teeth slightly as he talked, taking one step forward but still maintaining a distance between the two of you, “You act like this right now, Princess, but in the end, you’ll be by my side.”

“In your fucking dreams, Raeken,” You spat out, anger filling every atom of your being. You had been expecting Theo to argue again with you, but he just smirked and walked out without another word, leaving you to drown in the betrayal and grief he had left behind.

The silence that filled the room was deafening, and a sick feeling rose to your throat as you turned around, now facing the steps. Taking steady steps forward, trying to support yourself before you fell to the ground from weak legs, you reached him, bending down and taking one of his hands in yours.

“Scott?” You said, shaking his body as tears came to your eyes. Your heart sunk when you didn’t get a response from the boy, and you shook him again, but with this time you shook him wildly, trying to scare him out of whatever haze he was in, “Scott!”

“Please Scott you gotta answer, wake up, please,”

Cradling your best friend’s body was not something that you ever wanted to do. Your arms were wrapped around Scott’s body, your head against his as you let out the tears, and despite the sobbing now over with, the tears never stopped. You were all alone, the warmth from Scott’s chest gone and leaving behind only a coldness that could never be filled by anyone else.

Ten minutes. That’s how long that you were cradling Scott’s body before Melissa showed up, and when you saw her, you couldn’t even speak. Your throat closed up as she saw the boy in your arms, eyes sheathed with tears that would be let out until the late hours of the night, heart too heavy to support itself.

She ran over, positioning him on the ground and pushing her hands onto his chest in rapid and quick motions. Opening your mouth to talk, you hesitated as you watched the mother try to grab some tiny piece of life out of her son, to pull it back out so he could hug her one last time, and your eyes got even glassier, “What are you doing?”

“Trying to bring my son back.”

“His heart stopped beating fifteen minutes ago. You can’t bring back someone who’s already dead.” You shook your head, eyes falling to your lap which was covered in your best friend’s blood.

“He isn’t dead. He’s my son. He’s an alpha!”

But was he really?

[pricemarshfield]

first of her name

Written for Day 4 of @acocweek; Tragedy + Favorite (Platonic) Relationship + Amethar. Read on AO3 here.

Saccharina knows, when Ruby's gaze meets hers, that she might die.

It's not the first time she's thought she might. The nuns never cared for her well-being, and she'd not always been so good at finding enough food to feed herself after she'd drowned them all. A Bulbian priest who was better with a sword than she thought, a marauder whose views on magic were less positive than they'd assumed, an arrow that could hit Cinnamon while they were in the air so she'd fall gracelessly and never bring magic back to anything.

She could move first. Gooey meets her eyes with a pleading look, or Cinnamon's fire could reach her. She could run, get out of range of her arrows. But that's her sister, even if she doesn't seem to care.

Saccharina shakes her head at her marauders, then looks back to Ruby. Ruby, whose gaze has hardened, who doesn't answer when Saccharina messages we don't have to do this. Who nocks an arrow and fires it at her faster than Saccharina can even process.

She throws up a shield, knows her dear sister's aim is true enough for it not to matter. Saccharina doesn't have the energy to feel anything other than tired, and closes her eyes against it.

She doesn't die, or feel an arrow pierce her armor, or hear Cinnamon roar in rage. Instead, Ruby screams.

Saccharina opens just one eye just in case Ruby's missed and she has time to run, and sees Amethar lying on the ramparts in front of her, an arrow in his neck. She's sliding down Cinnamon's hide to get to him before she's finished processing what's happening, his scales opening cuts on her skin.

"Amethar?" she asks, rushes forward. "I can heal you, just wait--"

"Saccharina," Amethar says, blood gushing out of the wound. She knows enough to not take the arrow out, but God, she's used most of her spells, and he's so far gone-- "Are you okay?"

Saccharina laughs. It's not funny, but she doesn't know what else to do. "Why did you do this?"

"You're my dau--" Amethar coughs, and Saccharina tries to heal him, but he'll die too fast if she takes out the arrow, and he'll lose too much blood if she does nothing. "And I couldn't let Ruby kill you. She'd have regretted it."

Saccharina thinks of the steel in her eyes, and thinks he has to be wrong. "If you cared, why didn't you just tell me?"

Amethar frowns until some recognition sparks in his eyes. "I don't know. I don't know."

"It's fine," Saccharina says, like Ruby hadn't tried to kill her for it. "Don't talk, it's only making it worse--"

"Dad!" Ruby says from far-too-close, and Saccharina throws up a shield between them without even thinking. "Let me in, I need to see my father!"

"Our father," Saccharina snarls, and it would be so easy to throw a lightning bolt into the other girl, fry her alive, let Cinnamon eat her heart and make sure she's tasted enough of betrayal. It would be so, so easy. "This is your fault."

Ruby's face twists into a grimace, reaching back to her quiver. It's only Amethar coughing again that prompts Saccharina to look away from Ruby. It's just like her life, to find out her father cares enough about her to die for her when he's going to.

"I don't think I can heal you," Saccharina says, and she's choked up, fuck. "I don't--none of my spells can take care of this. I don't know what to do."

"It's okay," he says. "Can you drop the shield? I want to see Ruby."

It's stupid, and it's dangerous, and she drops the shield anyway. She trusts that Cinnamon will fry Ruby if she tries anything, or that her magic will be enough now that she's on guard. Ruby drops to her knees next to Saccharina, taking her dad's hand instinctually.

"I'm sorry," Ruby says, sounding younger than Saccharina's ever heard her. It's been easy to forget she's only barely 18, with the way she always looked down her nose at Saccharina. "I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry. Please don't die. You said you wouldn't go anywhere."

"Yeah, well," Amethar says. "I've never been a very good dad, have I?"

"No," Ruby says. "No, this is my fault. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Amethar says. There's blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth now, and Saccharina casts a spell to ease the pain. It's all she has now. "I would do it again."

"Why?" Ruby says, voice venomous. "Why would you die for her?"

Saccharina would throw her off the ramparts now, but she does want to know the answer, and besides, there'll be time enough for it after Amethar stops breathing. He deserves that much, since she can't save him.

"She's my daughter," Amethar says simply, and Saccharina's heart breaks. "So are you. You two shouldn't--you should hold onto each other. Family's all we have. I would give anything to have found one of my sisters alive."

There's a tug in Saccharina's mind at that, the wind whispering to her about some chocolate in the woods, but she waves it away. She'll follow that thread when anyone who might've betrayed her is gone.

"Dad," Ruby says, and then just weeps. Amethar lifts his other hand, moves it vaguely in Saccharina's direction until she takes it.

"Don't hurt her," Amethar says, making eye contact with Saccharina. She nods, and isn't sure if she's lying as she does it. Amethar smiles, though, and it feels, for a second, like all she's ever wanted.

Then his eyes slip close, and he exhales one long, rattling breath, and he shits himself.

Ruby doesn't nock an arrow, and Saccharina doesn't throw a bolt of lightning at her. For just a moment, they sit, mourning their father. Then Ruby stands, says, "I'm going to make sure Cruller is dead," and leaves.

Saccharina stands. The castle around her is throwing up white flags, Cinnamon is shifting, eager to get back to it, and her father's still-warm corpse is on the ground in front of her. There isn't a battle to be won, but there's a throne to be claimed, a land's magic to resurrect, a church to raze to the ground.

A sister to...

Something.

---

Sitting on her throne, Gooey at her right, Theobald at her left, Saccharina waits.

Liam approaches with the Book of Saint Citrina. Its holy light illuminates the room, painful to look at directly, and everything in Saccharina tells her to burn it, feed it to Cinnamon (sticking his head through one of the holes their siege weapons had left, keeping a watchful eye on everyone), throw it into the sea to join the nuns that would have revered it.

Instead, she puts her hand on it, and says, "I am the daughter of Amethar Rocks and Catherine Ghee. After my father's passing in the battle today, I am the rightful Queen of Candia. Are there any who have a better claim than me?"

It's an obvious challenge, but Ruby doesn't rise to the bait, Caramelinda's arm around her shoulders, holding Payment Day and staring down at her feet.

"All kneel before her Majesty the Queen!" Gooey calls, and Theo's armor thuds to the floor first. Everyone kneels, including Caramelinda, including Ruby.

It doesn't feel the way she'd hoped it might. Isn't she entitled at least one simple victory?

"Sister," Saccharina says, and Ruby's flinch is almost hidden. "Would you swear something on the book of our aunt here?"

Caramelinda's gaze is colder than ice, and Ruby looks completely taken aback. Theo is shifting next to her, but he doesn't get up. Good. She'd wanted at least one of them to remain loyal to her.

It'll be a shame to lose Liam, if she's right, but power means sacrifice, and at least she's choosing this one.

"Of course," Ruby says, gets up. The room is quiet enough that the noise of setting down Payment Day echoes throughout. When Ruby puts a hand on the book, her eyes widen, and Saccharina studies her face.

"Do you recognize my claim?" she says.

"Yes," Ruby responds, and there's a sigh from Theo.

"Do you have any intent to take the throne, or to make Caramelinda queen again, or anything else that would threaten my reign?"

Ruby exhales, and Saccharina's certain that neither of them know what's coming out of her mouth.

"Well?"

"No," Ruby says, and Saccharina blinks.

"Good," Saccharina says, and leans in, whispers, "One more question?"

The crowd in the room shifts uncomfortably, and Ruby nods, gaze distant. Liam, still standing next to the throne, makes a face at her.

But she needs them to know. They have to hate Ruby, because trust is nothing.

"Who killed Amethar?"

Ruby shudders. "You know. Don't ask me."

"They don't," Saccharina says, glaring at a Dairy Islander who seems to be trying to listen in, who ducks his gaze. "Ruby, answer the question or I'll tell the room myself. I'll tell them you and your mother conspired." She pauses. "Haven't you lost eno--"

"I did," Ruby says, and Liam's face goes blank. Saccharina wants to turn and look at Theo, but doesn't. It's an obvious sign of weakness to care about the opinions of any but her most trusted generals; she can't do that anymore. "I didn't mean to. I didn't know he would jump in front of you. And I wish he hadn't."

"That will be all," Saccharina says with a polite smile, loud enough for the room to hear, lets her hand accidentally brush the Book of Leaves as she says, "I just wanted to remember my father as he was." The room all seems to nod, understanding grief and loss, after everything. There's a brief rush of magic from Caramelinda's direction, and her gaze is as openly defiant as it could be, given the circumstances. Saccharina makes a note to make sure to keep shield stocked.

As soon as Liam takes the book back, face still blank, hands shaking slightly, says, "Our father would be proud, don't you think?"

Ruby's gaze flashes to hers, and it's not the cruelest thing Saccharina's ever done, but it's possibly the worst thing she's ever said. She doesn't care. She tried politeness, and it got her father dead from an arrow that meant for her.

"Sir Theobald?" she says, and he rises to put a hand on the book. His expression is stormy, but she can't see any resentment of her on his face. When he looks at Ruby, though? There's disbelief, not-quite-hatred, and it works. It's enough for Saccharina's shoulders to relax slightly, to nod at Gooey, who looks more relieved than she does.

"Before Emperor Gustavo Uvano's passing," he says. "I watched him name Amethar Rocks as Emperor of the Concord." The room gasps.

"A shame that excludes you from the running to be Empress, Ruby," Saccharina says with a little put-upon sigh. Ruby doesn't even respond, goes back to her place besides Caramelinda and kneels again. Her hands don't shake.

"The Dairy Islands recognizes the claim of Queen Saccharina Frostwhip, First of Her Name," says Primsy from the front row, and Saccharina manages a genuine smile that she doesn't quite return.

Gooey's hand stays on her sword, and Caramelinda refuses to duck her gaze, and Liam glances between everyone with that same blank expression. She'd hoped the throne would be the end of her fighting to keep her place. But it is hers, for now, and she'll do what she needs to keep it.

This time around, if she's given a chance to strike first, she'll fucking take it.

[anythingandeverything1d]

The tape (part 3)

Part 1 Part 2

Your pov:

*pls.....can we just talk?* you sighed, tossing your phone onto the couch, ignoring Harry’s text, crossing your arms, and looking up at the ceiling while blinking away the tears that were trying to form. It had been two weeks. Two weeks since the sex tape leaked. Two weeks since your heart had broken. Two weeks since you had seen Harry. Two weeks since your life had changed.

The first week had been kind of a nightmare. You didn't really leave bed, or shower, or eat. You cried and tried figuring out the answer to the question that never really left your mind, why? The boys had helped you through a lot of it, making sure you were never alone and supporting you at your worst moments. They also did a lot to help you out of this funk, making sure to always give you a reason to laugh and smile. Louis, who most of your time had been spent with since you were living in his house, had brought Clifford and Bruce into your room for a snuggle party. The two of you had laid in bed watching rom coms and eating popcorn most of the day. Liam had made you dinner and started a marathon of Marvel movies, in the proper order of course, and even brought Bear over for a quick visit. Niall had watched a golf tournament with you and explained every aspect of the game, which you still didn’t really understand. He had also brought his guitar over, singing songs and making up lyrics throughout the day, whether they be about the pjs you were wearing or the boring reality tv show you had on repeat. All of the efforts combined had gotten you to the point you were at now, which was better but not great. Even though a part of your heart ached and yearned for Harry, you were feeling a little less like you were drowning in sorrow now.

“Good morning!” Niall shouted walking into the room. He was dressed in white pants, a navy blue sports jacket, and matching hat. He looked good, almost like he was about to put with Tiger Woods. “Go get dressed, we have plans today.” he said pointing to your room.

You groaned and fell onto the couch with a smile. “But why can’t we just hang out here...” you batted your eyelashes in his direction and he laughed.

“Ya can’t just sit in da house forever (y/n). It’s time to get out and face the world.”

“I’m not ready....”

“Yes ya are, now come on. I’m takin ya to my golf outing today.”

“Your golf outing?” You sat up and looked at him with your mouth open. You had never played golf, and only watched it with Niall. 

“Yeah, I may hit a couple balls but it’s mainly just to have fun. I need a date anyway, all the other guys are married.” He laughed and you just looked at him. “Okay, not a date date just a date as friends...(y/n) it’s time to get out, I figured that a golf outing where there shouldn’t be a lot of fans, or paparazzi, or reminders of Ha- him would be a good thing for ya.” He walked over and poked your arm. “Now go get dressed so we aren’t late.”

You groaned but stood up walking to your room. Maybe he was right, maybe this would be nice. You didn’t exactly know what to wear to a golf outing, so you picked leggings and a crop top. It was casual but also cute and sporty. Niall grinned and gave a nod in approval before moving to the car.

You and Niall arrived a little late, which stressed you out, but Niall assured you was no problem at all. He introduced you to all of the other guys and their wives, all of which seemed super nice and included in their conversations. It was no wonder that he hung out on the golf course a lot. The sun was shining, it wasn’t too hot and you were able to just relax, have conversations with people who didn't know you or your story and just feel normal again.

 Niall ended up playing a few holes, which you didn’t mind at all because you were able to have a few drinks and be driven around on a golf cart. You smiled as he squatted down looking at the path he was about to putt and when he made it and won you cheered extra loud. He walked over laughing and shaking his head and lifting you in his arms in a tight hug. “I’m going to have ta bring you with me more. I think you’re my good luck charm.” 

“I think so too, it’s probably all of my cheering ya know?”

“Oh yeah? I bet.” Niall laughed and you grinned before looking back at you. “Ready to go home?”

You nodded and smiled. He drove you back to Louis and walked you to the door. You turned and smiled. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For pushing me to get out today. I had a lot of fun.”

“Well thank you for being my cheerleader all day.”

“I’d love to do it again sometime, I meant it when I said that I had a lot fun..” You gave him a tight hug before running back inside. You were feeling good. Much better than you had the last two weeks. Louis was inside watching tv so you plopped down on the couch next to him. “Hey Lou, how was the studio?”

“It was good, yeah we just worked on a few songs today.” he smiled and looked surprised. “You seem to be in quite the good mood today.”

“I feel good, normal almost.” you grinned. 

“So Niall’s golf outing helped did it?”

“Yeah, it was a lot of fun actually.”

“Well I’m glad you're feeling better today love because I was thinking maybe we could go out for dinner tonight?”

“Out where?” He opened his mouth to answer but you shook your head. “You know what? No. Never mind I don’t really care. I want to go out tonight. I think I’m ready to get back to out into life.” Louis grinned and stood up. “Well lets get moving then shall we?” He grabbed your hand and pulled you to the door. You were laughing at his gesture until the door opened. Anxious green eyes locked on yours and you froze. Louis shifted uncomfortably, gripping your hand tighter in his. “Harry.”

Harry didn’t even acknowledge Louis, his eyes were locked on yours. You stared back, your heart pounding in your ears. You felt your chest tighten as you broke eye contact. Louis stood protectively in front of you, his hand still grasping yours. “Is this really necessary?”

“Yeah, yeah I think it is.” Louis shot back. “What are you doing here?”

Harry ignored Louis and looked at you. “(y/n) can we talk? Just 5 minutes and then you can tell me to leave and I won't ever come back.”

“Harry why can’t you just leave her the fuck alone? I mean can’t you see-”

“Okay.” You let go of Louis’ hand walked forward. You looked at Harry. “5 minutes, no more.” Harry nodded, following you into the house and into your bedroom. 

Louis grabbed your arm and you shook your head. “I need this. I need the closure. I need to know why.”

“(y/n)...”

“It’s only 5 minutes okay? I’m really okay this time. I know I can do this.” 

Louis sighed and pulled you into a tight hug. “Just be careful okay. I don’t want to see you backtrack from where you were 10 minutes ago.” You nodded and smiled pressing a quick kiss to cheek and then following Harry down the hall.

You sat on your bed, watching Harry pace in front of you, running his fingers through his hair like he did when he was anxious. He hadn’t shaved recently, his facial hair was growing in thicker. He looked thinner as well, almost as if he hadn’t been eating properly. “1 minute down...” you sighed looking at him. He stopped and stared before groaning and sitting on the floor. 

“I know you asked why I did it. I know you asked why I thought you weren't good enough. (y/n) the answer is...I don't know. I don’t know why I did it. I never wanted to hurt you. I can’t say I was drunk. I can tell you that it happened the weekend you went home...the one where we had that fight..and that’s not my excuse. I really don’t have any. I messed up. I messed this is up. Babe you are more than anything I have ever wanted in my life. You asking why you aren’t good enough? It breaks my heart that I even made you think you weren’t. You are the one thing that makes me smile, gets me through a hard day, the only girl in the entire world I would ever want next to me in bed the next morning. You’re the girl I see myself marrying, having kids with, and growing old with. I know you hate me. I don’t blame you, hell I hate myself too for what I did, but there is one thing that I know for sure. You are meant to be mine. You are-”

“Harry..”

“No. Let me finish. I only have 5 minutes and I need to get everything off my chest.” He took a deep breath and held your hand lightly in his. “The point I’m trying to make. I know you are the only one I want in my life. You are the only girl I will have these feelings for. You are my soul mate. I can’t apologize enough but I can promise to try and be better. I will spend my life working hard enough to deserve you. I know you haven’t forgiven me. I know there’s a chance you never will. But I love you. I can’t give up on us. I won’t give up on us. I will do ANYTHING to prove myself to you. Just tell me- tell me how I can gain your trust. Tell me there’s a chance....a chance that you will at least forgive me somewhere down the line.” Harry’s voice broke. He had tears running down his face. Seeing him hurt made your heart hurt. You leaned forward to wipe a tear off his cheek and he leaned forward at the same time. Your nose bumped his, your breath catching. He looked at and you looked at him. Harry leaned it. Your body froze, your mind got fuzzy. His breath was warm on your face and his lips hesitantly touched yours. You leaned in more, pushing your lips to his. His hands cupped your cheeks and you fell down onto his chest. For a minute, you let yourself divulge in the feelings. You wanted to drown in him, the one thing your body had missed the most in the last two weeks. His hands held onto you like it was a lifeline and he was struggling to stay a float.

Your phone buzzed at the same time as Harry’s and you reluctantly pulled away. You shook your head reading the headline on your phone. “(y/n) and Niall- the new (y/n) and Harry?” Harry must've read the same thing. He pulled farther away and shook his head, new tears forming in his eyes. He looked up, pain flashing across his face. “Harry-”

“My 5 minutes are up.”

“Wait.” You grabbed his hand. “There’s nothing-”

“It’s fine. If you want to talk more, you know where to find me...” He hurried from the room, slamming the door behind him.

You sank back against the bed, tears in your eyes. “Well?” Louis asked creeping into the bedroom. “He didn’t cause a scene did he?” You bit your lip and shook your head crying. “Hey now, it’s okay...” He sat next to you and pulled you into his chest. “Shh love don’t cry..he’s not worth it.”

Niall’s pov:

“I just wanted you all to know how thankful I am for the support you’ve given me. I-uh” Niall’s eyes trailed the comment section in his instagram live. He laughed and looked back at the camera. “I’m seein a lot of comments about (y/n) and I hanging out. Yeah we’ve been hanging out, I took her to my uh golf outing today. It was nice yeah, she’s a great girl.” His eyes were scanning the comments again and he grinned. “Did ya see the article released about you and (y/n)? Yeah, I did just read that a bit ago. Crazy stuff.” 

“Niall!” 

Someone pounding on the door made Niall freeze and shake his head quickly, setting the guitar in his arms down. “Alright, well I need to go do actual adult things like watching the tournament that’s on, so thanks for hanging with me on this live stuff but uh bye.” he laughed and ended the chat. The pounding on the door was still going on so he wandered over to the door and pulled it open. “Harry?” Harry stalked into the room, pushing Niall back. “What the hell?” Niall yelled.

“You ruined it!” Harry pushed his hands against Niall’s chest and knocked him back. 

“Ruined what? Harry calm down!” Niall grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him into a hug. “Easy.. let’s just talk about what you’re upset over.”

“You. You and this fucking article.” Harry pushed him away and Niall took a deep breath.

“I swear-”

“We all had a pact.”

Niall laughed and pushed back his hair. “A pact when we were 19,20 years old. A pact that didn’t include a break up because you cheated on a girl and then released it in a sex tape.”

“(y/n) is mine.”

“No. (y/n) WAS yours.” Niall shook his head and walked Harry to the door. “Don’t you get it? You do more harm to her than you do good.”

“You don’t know anything.”

“Really?”

“(y/n) is not as innocent as she appears to be.”

Niall laughed and shook his head. “How are you actually turning this on her?”

“I’m not. My mistakes are my own. But (y/n)? Her mistakes were present as well in our relationship.”

“What mistakes? (y/n) is literally an angel and you two never even had any kind of problems up until a few weeks ago.”

Harry laughed. “We didn’t publicize our mistakes. That’s how we got through them, but (y/n) had the exact same problem I did.”

“Problem?”

Harry crossed his arms in the front door and shook his head. He took a step out and started to walk away but froze and looked back at Niall. “(y/n) cheated on me first.”

---

Part 4

Part 3 is here! Hope it lives up to your expectations! More drama is coming I promise but I had to reset the scene. I know it’s not as exciting as the others lol. Thanks for all the messages of support and the following this story has received! You are all amazing! xoxo

[twinkleallnight]

Without a trace.

This was an ask by @anjanettexcordonia. She gave me this mysterious title to write a fic upon.

Book: The Royal Romance AU

Word count: 1820.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to pixelberry.

Rating: Teen/ PG

Warning : None.

It’s the annual Beaumont Bash. I see so many guests circling in the hall. And then I see her. My heart skips a beat when our eyes connect.

She is walking in, her hand curled around her brother’s arm. She has pulled back her lustrous brown hair in a bun today but those side bangs touching her temples are alluring me. I want to push them back with my palm and gently place a kiss there.

When her eyes meet mine, I feel a surge of heat building up my body and I try hard to hide the blush I feel on my cheeks. She beams at the effect she has on me.

I love drowning myself into those dark grey eyes. They feel like a shadow of my light grey eyes. I enjoy watching my reflection dancing in her greys.

 I want to cup my hands around those dusky cheeks. I adore the way they rise up with her smile. I wish I can move my thumb over her lips that she has done up in wine shade. I am going to tell her how much I love that colour on those lips and then I want to taste them as if I am drinking my favourite wine.

 I will let my fingers linger for a moment on her slender neck, long enough till I feel her shiver under my touch.  I will let my hands roam over her shoulders and travel down her bare arms feeling the goose bumps my touch causes.

 I will hold her at her waist and pull her into me, till there is no scope for even the air to be between us. I will embrace her and let my worries wash away in all the love she showers on me.

 I promise myself, I will tell her how much she means to me. Yes I promise, I will tell her how much I love her. Today. It doesn’t need to wait anymore.

“Bertrand” I hear someone calling me, shaking my shoulder. I come out of my reverie to meet Leo’s gaze.

He is my friend, may be the only friend I have.

“Yes?” he is giving me a questioning look. “ Sorry I got carried away in some thoughts.”

“ Always told you, you think too much. Take actions instead of just playing things in your heavy brains.” Leo smiles. “Come we need to talk.”

He pulls me out of the main hall. Before leaving I glance back at her. She is glowing today more than ever. I pacify my mind with the plan to sneak out with her later.    

I shake my head to get rid of her thoughts and walk to the study. Leo closes the doors behind us. He takes a chair and sprawls on it carelessly. I never liked this but who can question the crown prince.

“I am abdicating.” He blurts out.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, I have decided. It’s too much to handle. I am not cut out for it.”

Leo kept on saying things like that earlier too but he seems to be speaking with conviction today. “But what about Cordonia? What about Madeleine?”

“That is for the king to decide. Besides, he has Liam- the perfectionist” he air quotes. “Madeleine and I, we sorted it out.”

“What do you mean you sorted out? You are engaged to her.” I am irritated with his irrational behaviour.

“She also blabbers something like you about obligations and responsibilities. She seems to be least interested in our relationship. She chose Cordonia over me. So, she stays back.”

“Did you speak to your father?”

“Yes, I had a discussion with Liam and then I told the king.”

“Your father, you mean...” I try correcting him.

“The. King.” Leo scowls. “He is all professional and so am I. I will call him father when and if he ever treats me like a son.”

“You are making a hasty decision. You can take a holiday, rejuvenate yourself and then come back for your duties.” I try to reason with him.

“To hell with the duties Bert. I cannot ruin my life. I get to live only once. I don’t want to live under the constant pressure.”

“There are people dependent on you. You can’t just abandon them.”

“No one is indispensable Bert.”

“Hmm” I respond thinking about where this is going and the repercussions.

There is a knock on the door. I turn and open the door to just a slit to see who is it. “Maxwell?” I question him for his purpose of intervention.

“The king and queen will be here any moment.” Max bounces up and down in excitement. I wonder when will he stabilise and understand the importance of a decent behaviour.

“I am right behind you. Give me a minute.”

I close the door again to address Leo. “Can we talk about this after some time? I am required to be out there right now.” Leo nods and we both walk out to reach the entrance just in time.

King Constantine struts in as I bow down in curtsy. “Your majesty, it’s my honour to welcome you to the Beaumont’s humble abode.”

The king surveys the hall and the enjoying crowd. He gives me a pleased smile. “You have always impressed me with your passion and sincerity towards your work.” He gives a glance behind my shoulder where Leo stands and then he continues with a sneer. “Unlike few thankless people who shun their responsibilities at the first given opportunity.”

I maintain the smile on my face while I try to ignore the snarky comments that he utters against his son. Finally, he gives me a nod and I usher him in.

The evening continues, keeping me on my toes. I greet and meet all the guests one after another. I keep glancing at her in between the conversations. I suddenly have so many doubts creating a wall of thoughts around me.

I lost my mother when I was young. Father has been in coma since past few years. I had to shoulder all the responsibilities of the duchy alone as my younger brother refuses to grow up to act like an adult. Leo, the only friend I have, is leaving. Who else do I have in my glum life?  May be her? Can I walk that line? I love her. Maybe I love her. But am I doing the right thing? Do I want to burden her with all that I have? I wish I could leave everything like Leo and runaway with her to a far distant place from here.

I scan the room again and find her standing there, looking up at her brother with a grin. He pats her cheek playfully. She side-hugs him resting her head on his shoulder. He is gazing affectionately at his only family, his little sister.

No, this is a mistake. She deserves better. I can’t be selfish pulling her into my grinding life. She needs a better chance. She needs someone who can give the world to her.

After the official dinner and formalities, it’s time to bid farewell to the king. I glance at her one last time before turning to the king. He says with enthusiasm, “I have enjoyed a delicious meal in an exquisite ambience. Your house always puts the best foot forward Duke Ramsford.”

“It’s kind of you to say that Sir.”

“We will take your leave now. Keep up the good work. You need more finances? The crown is there to help you to restore the previous years glory to your house. Just try staying away from distractions.” He clasps my shoulder while giving a side glance to her. I lower my eyes to the floor. “ Your father will be so proud of you.”

The royal couple gone, the after party starts in full swing. Maxwell is better at handling this wild part. I excuse myself and settle down in the study, brooding over the events. My promises melting away, I make new resolutions. A knock on the door brings me to ground.

“Come in.” I straighten up.

The door opens to reveal her full form. I start feeling the rush through my veins. This is it.

Her face brightens up. She rushes in towards me with eager steps and hugs me. “I have been waiting for a moment alone with you. I wanted to tell you something.”

I know my face bears a serious look that must have stopped her. She suddenly takes a step back. “What’s the matter? You have been distant all evening.”

“We… we… I am afraid we cannot continue.”

She gives me a puzzled look. “Cannot continue? What do you mean?”

“I have more pressing issues at hand and I cannot waste time in some flirtatious affair right now.”

“Was is it just a passing affair for you all this time?” she says in a hurtful voice.

“ You can have a better life outside these walls. I think I have made myself clear enough. You may leave unless you have anything else to discuss.”

“I never expected this from you Bertrand.” She says retrieving away.

Her eyes sadly look at the walls and the furniture around as if absorbing the warmth of the room for one last time. We have shared precious moments here. My heart feels her pain and I want to hold her tight, one last time. But I keep standing stiffly, till she walks out and shuts the door.

“ Your father will be so proud of you.” The kings voice echoes in my ears.

I plop down into my chair with a thud. I feel the energy in my body draining out. I hold my head in my hands. This was the only way, I try to console myself.

*************

Leo leaves for a stupid cruise after few days. The king is hoping that he will come back and the plan of his abdication has been put under the rugs for now. I return to the manor after saying my good byes to him.

I see Maxwell rushing out somewhere.

“Where are you going?” I ask him.

“Uh...” he fumbles giving me an inkling that he is again trying to hide something crazy he has done.

“What have you done now?” I raise my voice.

“Nothing. I didn’t do anything. It’s Drake.” He still tries to cover up.

“What did he do?”

“Actually it’s not about him. It’s Savannah.”

“What about her?” I start getting anxious.

“She went missing two days ago with only a handwritten note for Drake, saying not to search for her. She is leaving for a better life. We have been searching everywhere but no luck.” Max fills in quickly. “Can I leave now?”

“Uh… yes… yes. Go help him.” I wave my hand.

Better life. I said that to her. But I never thought she will leave everyone. What have I done?

Tags: @ao719 @annekebbphotography @anjanettexcordonia @bebepac @charlotteg234 @choicesficwriterscreations @choiceskatie @cordonia-gothqueen @cordonianroyalty @drakewalker04 @eadanga @gkittylove99 @glaimtruelovealways @kat-tia801 @hopefulmoonobject @hopelessromanticmonie @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @idontknowwhysblog @jessiembruno @jovialyouthmusic @jaxsmutsuo @kingliam2019 @khoicesbyk @lifeaskim @lisha1valecha @lovablegranny @mrswalkers-blog @mom2000aggie @no-one-u-know @ntoraplayschoices @princessleac1 @ritachacha @secretaryunpaid @sirbeepsalot @speedyoperarascalparty @shanzay44 @texaskitten30 @queenrileyrose @sanchita012 @sfb123 @theroyalheirshadowhunter @aestheticartsx @yourmajesty09

[suwya]

Till the Stars Had Run Away - Chapter 3

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Summary:  Killian Jones was a voyager. Actually, he was many things, or at least he had been - a lieutenant, a brother, a loving boyfriend - until everything had turned upside down and his life had hit an all time low. So, he gave up. Aboard his spaceship he abandoned Arcadia, his planet, navigating the stars and other solar systems in search of... well, he still didn't know what he was searching for, but his rule was "never remain in the same place longer than necessary."

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Rating: M

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Prologue; Chapter 1, Chapter 2

AO3

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A/N: Thank you @thisonesatellite​ for being the fastest and best beta reader I could ever ask for. And thank to all of you who are reading this.

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Chapter 3 . . It takes more courage to 

dig deep in the dark corners 

of your own soul and 

the back alleys of your society 

than it does for a soldier

to fight on the battlefield.

(W. B. Yeats)

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Many, many years ago, 

in another solar system.

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Arcadia was Killian’s place. His home. Not a happy one, but the only one he had ever known. Growing up as a mechanic slave of a greedy merchant was not the best childhood one could hope for, but at least he wasn’t alone, his older brother Liam had always been by his side. 

An unexpected explosion in the factory where they used to work put an end to the merchant's life when Killian was only a teenager.

The brothers were finally free. 

Liam worked as hard as he could to ensure his brother had a decent life. Killian wasn't as disciplined as his older sibling; he was more of a hothead who often had to be rescued from a whirlpool of rum and games, if not fights. But Liam never gave up, he was always there to remind his younger brother of what was important and to keep him on the right path. 

When they both came of age Liam managed to enroll them in the Royal Army. A few quiet and happy years followed. The boys worked and studied hard and they soon reached high ranks. Liam was nominated captain of The Jewel of the Crown, the fastest spaceship on the planet, and Killian was his lieutenant. 

Everything seemed to run smoothly.

Until one day their corrupted King put them in charge of a suicide mission, just for his need for power. Killian was skeptical about it, but Liam was stubborn and loyal in his duties and he accepted the mission.

On the way back home Liam died in his brother’s arms, and Killian swore to himself to not to obey another order for as long as he lived.

He took the heart of his beloved brother and fixed it on the inner part of the ship system: connected by electrodes Killian managed to keep at least his brother’s conscience alive and speaking. A poor substitute for what Liam was, but a constant reminder of how much he lost. 

Killian then kept the ship and renamed it The Jolly Roger, and flew away from his planet in search of adventures, living every day as his last, and never giving a damn about anything else but his own survival.

In the beginning, Liam was the voice of wisdom and rationalism; he tried to talk his younger brother into not throwing away his life, but Killian didn't want to listen. It was too painful. So he started a life of selfish revelry, while not wallowing in self-pity and drowning his sorrows in every local tavern. As time passed Liam went quieter and quieter, until the day he stopped talking to his brother.

One day, on a strange armored planet Killian had landed, he met a beautiful and strong woman, Milah, and he fell in love with her almost at first sight. She was already married, but she wanted to leave her husband, and she chose to live a life of adventures with Killian. But her husband was jealous and resentful, and unfortunately, he was also a very rich and powerful business owner.

Killian took Milah back to Arcadia, to show her the places where he grew up. It was an unpleasant surprise to find out that his planet had been absorbed by the Lepka Industry, a company that, for its benefit, had depleted all the planet’s resources until it was no more able to produce anything useful, and left the planet inert. 

Mr. Gold, leader of the Lepka Industry and also Milah’s husband, had found out where Killian was from and had started to enact his revenge: slowly but successfully. First Killian’s origins, then his love.

Gold showed up one day when the two lovebirds were having a night walk together, and he started a fight with Killian that ended with the latter one losing a hand and with Milah's death in front of Killian’s eyes.

While his destroyed planet was disappearing in the distance from his rear-view screen, tears were running down Killian’s face. Tears of sadness for everything that could have been and wasn’t; tears of rage and frustration for being powerless in front of such an evil creature; tears of longing... “I miss you, Liam.” He whispered to the silence of his spaceship cabin.

The red LED started blinking again and the cold metallic voice spoke: I'm right here little brother. I will never abandon you.

Tears ran even harder down Killian's cheeks.

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 ~·~·~·~

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Present time.

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The rest of the day passed quietly, well almost. Henry was eager to discover everything he could about the spaceship, and he made Killian answer a lot of questions about the control system, the mechanical parts of the engine, and more specific stuff. He learned how to read the radar and that you need an extra tank of fuel, in case the planet you want to go to delays your permission to land.

Dinner was a pleasant relaxing moment for the three of them. The meal was simple. Given that not every kind of food was going to survive an intergalactic trip, they had had to limit their choices between some dehydrated vegetables and frozen spicy cream, but Killian soon found out that it was one of Henry’s favorite desserts.

“Can I have some more, please?” Henry asked after emptying his second bowl. 

“You’re going to explode.” His mother pointed out.

“Oh, but I’ll die happy, mom.” He answered with a big grin.

Killian smiled and gave a mischievous look to Emma “The lad is growing up.” 

“Killian, don’t.” She admonished him. But he ignored her and handed another full bowl of cream to Henry with a wink. “What…?” She started, but then: “Do you ever follow an order?”

“Only mine,” Killian answered matter-of-factly.

Emma rolled her eyes and shook her head, while Henry and Killian were sharing a laugh.

“I'm not sure I enjoy the idea of you two as best buddies,” Emma stated.

“He’s my father, of course we’re going to be best buddies!” Henry exclaimed.

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~·~·~·~

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The morning after Killian woke up early, as usual. They weren’t supposed to land before another four or five days at least, but he was used to long driving journeys. He had slept only a few hours, while he could use the help of the autopilot, resting on a hammock he had previously hooked behind the two leather seats that stood opposite the dashboard so that he could easily take control of the ship in case of emergency. But he didn’t feel tired, quite the opposite, he was feeling excited and curious towards what the day with his guests was going to offer him. He distracted himself preparing breakfast, and soon after the table was ready for the three of them, Emma appeared from her cabin, followed by a suspiciously silent Henry.

The boy sat on his chair and devoured his meal with his eyes fixed on his bowl. No word came from him and as soon as he finished, he stood up and went back to his cabin, closing the door behind him. Killian had the impression that if the door wasn’t automatic he would have probably slammed it.

Emma was still savoring her tea and she seemed quite concentrated on the liquid in her cup.

Killian sat back on his chair and crossed his arms; he tilted his head and kept looking at her for a few minutes, but when he understood she had no intention of having a conversation, he cleared his throat and asked: “Have I done something wrong?”

“It’s not your fault.” She stated and then finally looked at him. “Yesterday, before Henry went to sleep, I told him the truth. Or at least part of it. He now knows that you’re not his father. But he’s not upset with you.” And after a pause, she added: “He’s angry with me, for lying to him for so long.” 

“Plausible.” Killian nodded. “Henry seems a perceptive boy, give him some time to let it all soak in.”

The rest of the day was much more boring than Killian expected. Neither Emma nor her son were very talkative, and after dinner, Killian wasn't sure if he was more upset by the long hours flying or the tense atmosphere in his ship.

Emma and Henry were sitting at the table, each one immersed in their own electronic screens, reading… whatever damn things they were reading. 

Killian snorted, he put the autopilot on and stood up from his seat.

“If you would excuse me, I have a part of the turbocharger to check.” But as soon as two pairs of worried eyes looked at him, he hurried to explain: “Oh, it’s nothing serious, but better not to leave loose ends, right?”

Killian started his way down the stairs that led to the engine room, but after just a couple of steps, he stopped and looked back. “Henry, would you like to come with me? I may need a hand.”

Henry nodded and ran past him down the stairs. Killian smiled to the ever characteristic enthusiasm of the boy, and before resuming his descent he gave a side look to Emma and winked. She furrowed her brows in question. 

Down in the storage room, Killian found Henry waiting for him. The lad was probably wondering why they hadn't entered the engine zone yet. But Killian ignored his silent question and went directly to a locker from where he retrieved a little box and something that looked like a toy sand mill with a switch on the upper right side and a glass flask at the bottom; he deposited everything on the small table in the center of the room.

“Wanna hold a bright star?” He asked the boy.

“That's impossible.” Henry was skeptical.

Killian hummed. “I wouldn’t say that. Given the many places I’ve visited and everything I’ve seen in my life, I’d say that there are just a few things that are not possible.” 

He lifted the upper lid of the mill while saying: “We need to generate enough energy for the turbocharger.”

Then he opened the box and took a plastic bag with some grey powder in it. “You see this? This is stardust.” He said and immediately knew he had the boy’s attention.

“Did you collect it?” Henry asked.

“I like adventures, but I’m no fool. It's extremely dangerous to go near a star, especially one which is going to implode soon.  You would not come back to tell the story.” Killian shook his head. “I bought it some time ago in an exotic market. Now, all you have to do is to pour some of the contents inside the grinder. But be careful, it's a rare item, don't spill it.”

Henry took the bag with reverential care and started to put some dust into the mill. “Like this?”

“You're doing great. That should be enough. Now switch it on.”

Henry closed the upper lid and turned it on. The sand started to swirl faster and faster until it began to shine so intensely that the mill could hardly be seen through the amount of light.

“This is awesome! It totally seems like a shining star.” The boy was staring in awe with wide-open eyes.

“Aye. I thought you would like it.” And after a pause, Killian added: “You can keep it if you want.”

“But what about the turbocharger? You will have to make another one.” But just after Henry said the words, he clearly understood the truth behind it. “Oh... you don't need stardust energy. You didn't even need my help, did you?”

Killian nodded. “You're a clever boy.”

Right at that moment Emma entered the room. “It’s time for you to go to sleep, kid.”

But Henry ignored her. He switched the mill off and the light softly disappeared. Without averting his eyes from it, he whispered: “It would have been cool if you were my real dad.”

Killian swallowed hard, a strange lump was forming in his throat, but that wasn't the right time to analyze it. 

“You already have an amazing mother, as far as I know.” Killian briefly looked up at Emma, who smiled slightly at his poor attempt to mediate.

Henry shrugged.

“Just because someone helped in…” Killian searched for the best word to describe it, “creating you, it doesn't mean he's your father.” 

“What about your dad?” The boy asked. 

“Not the best example. My mother died when I was still a wee lad and my father, well, he did the best he could to raise my brother and me. At least he tried for some time. But he was addicted to games and he liked to bet more than he could afford. One night, surrounded by his creditors, he ran away. Never knew anything about him after that. My brother and I... uh... we were the ransom for his misdeeds. He sold us to a merchant.”

“Sold? You mean you were a slave?” The astonishment in the boy's voice was visible.

“Aye.” Killian sighed.

Henry wrinkled his nose in repugnance: “That's awful!” 

“Aye. But I had my older brother with me. He was probably a much better father figure to me than my real papa. He taught me everything I know.” 

Henry thought about it for a few seconds then he nodded. He took the mill in his hands: “Thank you, Killian.” 

“No need. Now, be a good son and go to rest as your mother said.”

The boy turned around towards the stairs. Emma waited until he was almost upstairs then she looked at Killian and mimicked a voiceless thank you before following her son.

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~·~·~·~

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Later that night, Killian was concentrating on flying when he heard the sound of the sliding door behind him opening and closing. Emma soon appeared in his peripheral view. She slumped down on the seat next to him.

“Henry is finally asleep.” She let him know. 

“You should rest as well, Swan.” He had happened to address her using her surname lately. He liked the way it sounded, and he thought it suited her. Swans were quite rare on any planet he had been, and they were known for their purity and beauty, but also their fierce temperament, especially when protecting their offspring. 

“What about you? Shouldn’t you get some sleep too?”

“I usually don’t sleep much.” Was his evasive answer.

“Are you going to be at the helm all night?” She asked, a bit concerned.

“As soon as we are out of this group of meteorites I’ll put the autopilot. No need to worry. If there’s any problem, my ship will wake me up.” He reassured her.

But she didn’t move from her seat. She stared at the sidereal starscape; her gaze appeared to be lost somewhere far away. “It’s more than an automatic voice. Isn’t it?”

Killian fixed his sight to the horizon, as well. Emma thought that she may have trespassed some unspoken boundary, that the question she did was probably far too intimate to receive a proper answer. But after a few minutes of silence, he sighed “Aye. It’s my brother Liam.”

“How...?” She started to ask, and he could hear the wonderment in her voice, but then she changed the question: “What happened?”

“We were serving in the Royal Army, back on our planet. Liam was the captain of this spaceship. I was his lieutenant. Our King entrusted a perilous mission to us; I knew it was a suicide mission, but Liam was stubborn and very strict when it came to following orders. He didn’t make it. He died in my arms. I…” Killian breathed deeply. “I put his heart in the innermost part of this ship’s system. Powered by strong hydrogen electrodes I somehow manage to preserve his… soul? Being? I don’t even know what it is, but at least I still hear his voice.”

She didn’t react immediately to his story. She was probably assimilating the new pieces of information about him. Killian internally cursed because he couldn’t stop concentrating on the outer path, while he would have liked to have given her his full attention, to understand what was brewing in that beautiful head of hers.

When she kept silent for longer than he could bear, he couldn’t help avert his eyes from the meteorites just enough time to see her smiling at him. That was unexpected. 

“I’m sorry for your brother, but now I understand your rejection of royalty.” She chuckled softly: “and your troubles in following orders.”

Killian found himself smiling too.

It was nice to spend a few moments with her sitting next to him, it reminded him of when he used to sit exactly where she was now, just to keep his older brother company during the night travels. A feeling of long-forgotten joy at the domestic situation warmed his heart. 

They managed to pass the group of meteorites without any major consequences, and now there were only stars and distant planets in their sight. “This is beautiful,” Emma stated.

“Aye. It is.” Killian agreed, then he pushed a couple of buttons and lifted a lever in front of him activating the autopilot. “And now, I can finally stretch my bones on that hammock.” 

“How can you sleep on that thing?” 

“You wouldn’t say it, Swan, but it’s quite comfortable.” Then, wagging his eyebrows, he added: “I could show you how to relax on it?”

What was he doing? Was he flirting with her? But the shared moments before had left them in a bubble of closeness, and he was feeling audacious.

His attempt gained him a roll of eyes from her. “Thank you for the offer, but not tonight.” She stood up and Killian expected a strategic retreat from her. But she went closer to him and bending down she whispered in his ear: “Maybe another time.”

Killian’s jaw dropped open. Was she flirting back? While the door of his cabin was sliding close he could only mutter “Bloody Hell!”

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[mxndanemagic]

Prom

"She isn't going to let me go." A lamenting sigh comes from the young woman. Hugging her legs close and leaning against the window whos ledge she's seated on, Ella glances over to her older brother. "Scarlet says they'll know exactly what kind of girl I am. That I need stay home and repent for taking to Lucifer's temptations."

William doesn't hold back a frustrated groan, going over to the other and placing a hand atop her head. "That mother of ours isn't well. I know you've been having a rough time at school and Scarlet isn't much help either. But I doubt making a friend is worth the fuss she's causing." Sweeping a brief look across his sister's arms, William spots fading blotches of bluish purple. "Did she do that?"

Or was it the bullies?

"My throat was getting dry from reading verses. I stopped for a moment and she got upset. I don't think she's ever gotten this bad." Ella admits. "I think she misses you." Their mother had always been frenzied about keeping "sin" and the "devil" out of their lives. When her brother graduated and chose to attend a college far from home, she seemed to take it personally. Accusations of taking part in witchcraft, wanting to let the devil into her life, and seducing demons began to become part of her daily life when William left.

The blonde shakes his head in disbelief - moving away to rummage through his weekend bag. "Think I got some concealer in here. You told me you got asked to the dance by one of the popular guys, right? What's he like? He isn't trying to mess with you is he?" Williams questions follow one after another. He only wanted to keep his sister safe from any further harm.

"Do you like him?"

Ella looks up confused but lets out a laugh. "No. I just know him because Moira does. If she's friends with him then he must be doing this to be nice. I'm just relieved not everyone at that school sees me as a freaky witch."

"...Come on, you should get ready. I'll make sure mom doesn't find out where you went and I know Moira snuck you out to go dress shopping." he smiles.

The younger Nowell flusters at being discovered but she thanks her brother who heads off to see where their mother is.

She hadn't been nervous earlier but once the sight of the time and realizing she was ready to go, Ella could feel her heart racing. Was her dress fine? Her hair just right and makeup fine? Would the other students mock her for attending the dance with someone so well known?

Just make them shut up for good.

The thought startles her - causing the witch to go still. Maybe she was more anxious than she thought.

"I hope this isn't too much for you, Liam." her words stumble out during the walk to the school. Ella had insisted the other didn't make a grand show when it came to taking her to prom. Now they were strolling together through the neighborhood. Liam however had been rather silent throughout the trip. "Is everything okay?" Maybe he was having second thoughts.

Liam responds as if he was caught off guard, a hand going to the back of his neck. "Y-Yeah. I just...you look nice." he mutters, keeping his eyes to the ground. "The dress too!" a rushed addition to his compliment is given.

Ella's face softens, a gentle smile taking place. "You look nice too." It seemed like the right thing to say after his kind words. Maybe her mother was all wrong about things. Not everyone she would meet was going to be cruel...

"There you two are!" Heather is first to greet them - her hands clasping Ella's close. "I told Jen you weren't gonna let her little subordinates get to you. Thought for a second Liam got lost on his way to your house." she looks over to the other, giving him a stern look. "He didn't do anything did he?"

"I was the perfect gentleman!" Liam counters, earning laughter from the two girls. "I'm getting some punch." he grumbles, breaking off from them and into the bustling crowd of prom attendees.

Heather leads Ella to an empty table away from the dancefloor, near the stage decorated for the main event of the night.

The reveal of this years Senior Prom Royalty.

"I made sure nobody would give you trouble tonight. I haven't even seen Jen or her boyfriend either after talking to her. Maybe she got bored and left." Heather sounds hopeful. It would take away some concern for the evening if that were true. "Didn't think your mom was gonna let you out, Ella. I was ready to drag Liam to your place so we could sneak you out." she grins.

Ella returns a small smile, fidgeting with the corsage on her wrist. "Will surprised us with an early visit. He wanted to make sure I could go with you guys." Being able to attend felt like the first step in concluding her unpleasant senior year on a good note.

"Testing, testing!" The sound of a stage mic being adjusted by an MC has the lively chatter in the gymnasium quiet down. "Nice to have you all here tonight! Dancing, mingling, and of course waiting for the results of our most coveted titles this years prom!"

The crowd answers with rallied cheers and impatient encouragement. Eyes watch with anticipation as a single envelope is brought over to the MC. "Let's see here~ Your King and Queen for tonight's Senior Prom are-"

"LIAM MASTERS AND ELLA NOWELL!"

The announcement surprises the woman, looking up and around as a spotlight brings attention to her and Liam - who makes his way to the stage while signaling her to follow after.

"Go on up, Nowell!" Heather gives her a light nudge.

She was voted Prom Queen?

Her footsteps towards the stage feel light, her heart beating just like before when she was getting ready.

Ella wished her mother could see - see that her fear mongering was for nothing. Everyone was smiling and clapping! They were cheering for her...

A bouquet of black dahlias is handed over to her while she and Liam stand center stage, all eyes on them as a crown is put on her head.

"Give it up for our Prom King and Queen, folks!"

Ella holds her flowers close, giving Liam and the crowd a bright smile. The crowd is so loud with their excitement that she barely hears the sound of rope snapping...

A puddle of thick wetness drapes over her, splashing to the ground and staining anything it lands on. Her cheery expression falters into one of shock - gaze staring out into the audience that reacts with a gasp. The bouquet in her grasp tumbles to the ground, stained in red paint.

At least that's what Ella thought it was until she begins to try wiping it off her arms and dress.

It was blood.

She can feel it dripping into her hair, staining her skin, and the smell of rust sticking to her.

They're all staring - some crying out for her date who's stumbled to the floor of the stage after a knock to the skull from the now empty bucket that had been leveraged above them.

Others are falling into gossip and among them she spots the one likely behind it all.

"LOOK AT THE FREAK COVERED IN BLOOD!" Jen calls out, urging other students to point, laugh, and echo insults her way.

Chaperones attempt to calm down the crowd but they're only ignored as frenzy takes over.

Ella had been wrong.

The laughter is all she can hear as she stands there like their personal fool to mock.

That's when the witch understands. . .

They were never going to change. . .

The gymnasium doors slam shut.

Windows close with a thud.

Stage lights shatter. . .and the audience panics.

Her hand raises, levitating tables nearby to send them flying into the crowd. Others are slammed into the ceiling before being dropped with ease. Many scramble for the entrance and exits - futile attempts to get out. Scream and cries fill the room as stage curtains are set ablaze.

"Stop this! Let us out!"

A snap of bones is heard and the pleading voice has gone quiet.

The fire begins to branch out to the rest of the room and Ella is calm as she descends down the stairs of the stage, strolling through the gymnasium to taken in her work.

She drowns out the sobbing and yelling of what’s left of the faculty and students. They don’t attempt to get in her way.

Taking in only the sound of flames moving rapidly, stages pieces crashing to the ground and her own soft humming while taking gentle care to remove the corsage that had been given to her.

No longer would she be their plaything.

The main entrance doors open with ease as she approaches, shutting them swiftly behind her once she's out of the building.

Outside the night breeze is cool and the gymnasium is enveloped by the fire and terror that’s sealed inside.

All of it on display just for her to savor as she watches from afar with satisfaction and the sounds of sirens are heard in the distance.

Prom hadn't been so terrible after all.

[lassluna]

Off the Deep End (2/?)

Emma Swan has had to fight for everything in her life. She’s had to fight to keep a roof over their heads, she’s had to fight to keep her marriage from crumbling--that was a fight doomed from the start--and to fight to make something of herself.

Then of course that rich snob on a boat cost her her job. He’s an absolute prick who has probably never fought for anything in his entitled life. So when an opportunity for a little revenge pops up, who was she to deny it?

Now she has to fight to keep from having actual feelings for the amnesiac who might just care about her and her kids.

CS Overboard AU

Ao3 FFN

AN: Long over due second chapter of my @captainswanmoviemarathon​, submission thank you so much for you support of this. I really appreciate it. Also thank you @carpedzem​ for the wonderful art It’s wonderful as always.  

Chapter 2

Killian Jones had never wanted for anything. Not with his mother’s multimillion dollar shipping company that she had built herself. Their fortune provided him the opportunity to live in the lapse of luxury, anything he so desired was his with a simple phone call or a credit card. Everything except his mother herself.

He remembered Alice Jones fondly, remembers the trips to the beach they went on, being 5 years old and watching her teach his elder brother to sail. They both adored their time with her, their time cooking in the kitchen, going to a movie anything to keep the boys from realizing just how privileged they were.

He remembers what she used to tell them before they went to sleep. “A man who doesn’t fight for what he wants deserves what he gets.” She would say. He tried to live by that, even after her death when he was still a child. Even after his father, drowning in grief,  spent most of his childhood in board meetings or bars rather than with him.

Boarding schools raise the children of the rich. This was a fact Killian knew quite well from all his time spent in them. But Killian was nothing if not resourceful. A man who doesn’t fight for what they want deserves what they get, and so whatever Killian wanted, he would get. He had enough power and influence to do so. 

Sometimes it took money, other times it took throwing around his father’s reputation. Anyone who said no to him never held firm for long, all it took was a message to his father (His secretary really if Killian was being honest)  and whatever stood in his way crumbled under their weight. 

(Killian never really asked how exactly they did it, just that it was easier than parenting)

Liam never really liked Killian’s mentality when it came to these things, he always tried to teach Killian how to deal with things like this with honor or good form. Those concepts made him roll his eyes.

It’s not like Liam ever stuck around either to actually clean up the mess his bouts of ‘honor’ led him into. The moment Liam joined the military Killian was alone again, back to handling things his way. It was easier that way.    

Killian would never want for anything. Except maybe for this splitting headache to subside. And it wasn’t from a bloody hangover.

“Here you go babe.” A voice says besides him as one of the crewen handed her an icepack to put on his aching head. “I can’t believe that crazy person threw you off your own ship!” She exclaims, the coldness seems to help his aching head.

He smiled at her, his brunette beautiful girlfriend of half a decade. He doesn’t know what he’d do without her, or at the very least he’d have a lot less fun doing it.

“Perhaps Mr. Jones needs to go see a doctor.” The crewman notes. Milah rolls her eyes.

“Killian is fine, aren’t you babe?” She asks. “We have a party tonight that I-we simply can not miss.” He smirks. Typical Milah, much like himself she knows that the celebration shouldn’t stop, he was Killian Jones after all.  

What he wanted, he got, what he couldn’t have he’d buy. Simple as that.

“Mr. Jones, you have a call sir.” Another crewman said, the young lady who typically served the food. He waved her away.

“Tell whoever that is I’m busy.” He says. He does not have time for his father or brother getting involved in his personal life. Always wanting to change him to fit their needs. He had no interest in whatever they had to say.

“Your brother says it can’t wait.” She adds nervously. “He said something about flying over if you don’t take his call.

Killian groans in annoyance. The only thing worse than talking to Liam is him showing up here unannounced and killing his buzz. He recalls a time last year when he and his mates stormed into his party and effectively confiscated all the rum, a killing blow to even the most lively of events.

“Fine.” He says offering his hand for the phone. “What is it brother?”

“Nice way to greet me, little brother.” Liam says mildly amused. 

“Younger brother.” He responds impatiently. Killian’s always hated his nickname which of course just made Liam use it at every turn. “Now tell me what’s so important that you had to threaten to show up if I don’t answer?” He snaps. He glances at Milah’s face, she seems mildly annoyed but listening all the same. 

“Why are you in Maine?” He asks. “You’re supposed to be in New York for father’s birthday.” Killian rolls his eyes.

“Well that’s exactly why I am here, brother. Today it’s Maine and then tomorrow we head out to cross the Atlantic, we’re thinking of hitting London next.I have no intention of visiting my father and his gang of supporters and gathering around and talking about what a wonderful father he is.” Killian snaps. “You and I both know he wasn’t.”

“Be that as it may, he still only wants the best for us.” Liam adds. “Just come down, smile and then you can be off again.”

“You know the second I step foot there he’s going to be down my throat about taking up the reigns of the company alongside you.” Killian reminds him. He does so every time he sees him. 

“And is that so bad?” Liam asks. “Is it so terrible to try to protect what mother built? So terrible to make something of our lives?” Killian can tell he was getting impatient with him “It’s about time you stop obsessing over the past and grow up brother.”

“Easy for you to say, you joined the bloody military to get away from him.” Killian reminds him. While Liam was off being the honorable brother, he was expected to take part of their mother’s company. He never wanted any of that. But what he wanted never seemed to matter. 

“And you used alcohol and your bloody boat.” Liam snaps. “What would our mother think if she saw you now? Prancing around without a care in the world with that gold digger at your side”

Now Killian was getting angry. “Mother always said we need to fight for what we want, brother. And right now I want to be done with this conversation.”

Killian didn’t wait for a response before hanging up.

He gives a long sigh, running his hand through his hair in frustration. Talking to his family always left him frustrated. Couldn’t they see he was not interested in any of that? That he was perfectly content with life as it was?

“I’m sorry sweetie.” Milah says, as she always does when he has a difficult phone call with his family. “But maybe it’s best for us to go.” She offers. “Rub a few elbows, and maybe get absolutely wasted at your dear ol’ dad’s expense.” She says with a smirk.

He can’t help smile at Milah’s attempt to make him feel better.  

“But for now, let’s get ready for the best party this little rundown port has ever seen!” She says happily. She stands up and points to the crew who had given her the cold press. “What are you standing around for? We have work to do.” She announces. “Don’t worry babe, I’ll take care of everything.” She promises.

True to her word, she does. Killian can’t help but laugh at the way Milah barked her orders and demanded at his employees, making sure that this party Milah insisted on throwing was to her liking.

Hell hath no fury like a disappointed Milah.

 //

The party was excellent, just as Milah intended. Lord knows he would have heard about it had things gone any other way. It was something Killian liked about her, always striving for perfection. 

They headed off to sea onwards the end of the party, just in time for the locals to get the bloody hell off his ship. Killian quite enjoyed it like that. He much preferred to head off to England with just his normal crew and Milah.

“Did you have a good time?” Milah asks, smiling down at him from her position on the railing. He was nursing one last beer, watching the lights from the town fade away.

“Of course love.” He says, standing up to give her a swift peck on the cheek. She didn’t hesitate to draw him in deeper, a hand on his cheek. “I always do.”

It made her smile brighter.

“Always.” She repeats. “That’s what I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. We’ve been together for years Killian.” 

He nods. It had been a whirlwind romance, full of sex and alcohol and quite a bit of fun along the way. She understood him in ways that most did not. Far more than his brother or father ever did.

“Always.” Milah repeats. “Do you think...” She trails off. He smiles, cupping her cheek.

“What is it? You know you can talk to me.”

“Killian.” She says slowly. “Have you ever thought... do you think...”She looks away then glances up. “Marry me Killian Jones.”

He doesn’t think he’s heard her correctly. Marriage? Him?

He can’t help it, he bursts out laughing. Him marry her? It was more ridiculous the more he thought about it. He felt Milah push him away, her hopeful smile gone in an instant. 

“Why are you laughing?” She demands. “You ungrateful bastard.” She pushes him again rougher.

“Milah...” He says trailing off. “Why the hell would I want to marry you?” Because that’s the truth. They’d never spoken about this, never talked long term. Sure they've been together for the last few years but he never...he never thought about them being long term, never thought she wanted that life.

He sure as hell doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want to run the company like Liam wants him to. He doesn’t want to stop seeing the world and he sure as hell doesn’t want marriage and children.

Perhaps Milah doesn’t quite understand him like he thought.

“Because-Because” She stutters out. “Because you love me!” She declares. 

He shakes his head. “Milah I think you have the wrong idea about what we have. It’s just...fun, nothing so serious. Just mindless fun.”

“You absolute jackass!” She shrieks and gives him another push in the chest. It doesn’t hurt persay, but it does make his grip on the railing loosen, then there’s a sickening crack as the security on the railing breaks under their weight. He stumbles backwards and barely catches himself. He’s holding onto his ship now.

“Bloody hell.” He curses. “That was a close-”

He’s interrupted by something being smashed over his head. The next thing he knows he hits the freezing cold water below.

//

He wakes up cold. The sun is high in the sky and everything bloody hurts. From his head, to his arm to ever bloody inch of his skin.

He groans at sound above him, buzzing and buzzing.

“...who is he...”

“...ambulance...”

He opens his eyes just a crack. There’s a man, no two of them, standing over him, one has a phone in his hand.

“Sir?” he says. “Are you alright?”

He’s not but that should be bloody obvious.

“Can you tell us your name?” He blinks.

He can’t. He can’t remember...anything.

//

“Killian Swan.” He repeats, now knowing his name. 

Something about the name doesn’t sit right with him. But then again, he doesn’t know what does sit right with him. 

He narrows his eyes at the blonde. “And you’re my wife?” He repeats, looking over the blonde once more. She’s attractive enough, he thinks. But she seems guarded, not at all the warm welcome he expected from a loving wife. Not to mention the obvious waitress outfit she had on. No, no wife of his would have to resort to serving food to make a living. He can’t explain it, but he knows that his life was more than that, it was...he wasn’t sure...

“What the bloody hell happened? Why am I here and why can’t I remember anything?” He snaps impatiently. He has a hundred questions, starting with why he woke up on the beach and why it took him so long to be found. He’s been in this insufferable hospital for hours and-

“Cool it buddy.” The blonde snaps, shutting him down immediately. “Doctors say you got hit in the head, gave you some long term amnesia, probably from falling off the harbor drinking.”

“Drinking.” He repeats. Now that sounds like a fantastic idea...

“How are you feeling?” She asks, her expression softening slightly. But he can still feel walls from his lovely wife.

“Irritated.” He replies. “And how do I know you’re telling the truth?”

The blonde crosses her arms. “You have a compass tattoo on your rib cage.” She replies. “A little detail I would only know if I was your wife.” She replies smugly. 

“I do not have a-” He stops short as he lifts his shirt to reveal the exact compass tattoo the woman described. He traces it lightly with his fingers. Ink on his own body that he didn’t recognize. “Bloody hell.” He says in realization. 

“You really are my wife”