#listen i have a lot of emotions and their ff makes me feel settled

[addicted-to-nothing]

popping in from my existential crisis to say that i really love @the-lonelybarricade and @separatist-apologist and i hope both their days go wonderful

I will now crawl back into my existential crisis and reread Holy Ground while ignoring my work

#listen i have a lot of emotions and their ff makes me feel settled #i just really love good people who are willing to share their art with the world just for the joy of it #also how many times can i reread ten past five #you may ask #like twice a day bc i am weak for fluffy smut #i need the holy ground equivalent for feysand bc fluff... and smut? what more can i ask for #anyhoo apparently i have “work” to do #and should probably eat breakfast #also for any uk peeps #why does 10 past 5 actually somehow makes me miss the tube??? #i hate London lol the tube destroys my anxiety and last time i had to climb down to picadilly (i think? what ever station has all #the #stairs #i died #but yk #good writing #me #text post #no i am not om #if someone could lend me money to move out thatd be 👌👌 #kidding #or am i

[irelanddesires]

Ny Början- Chapter 1

Pairing:  André Burakovsky x reader

Warnings: Fluff, eventual smut, hockey violence, domestic violence (in the beginning), idk probs more.

Summary:  With the help of a group of unsuspecting heroes you are saved from a toxic relationship. One of your saviors goes above and beyond anything you could ask for. A friendship is forged and after awhile feelings happen. Could ths be your happy ending? 

A/N: Hi I’m trash and this idea has rolled around in my head for w e e k s. I’ve played hockey for a really long time and the Avs are my team... Burky happens to be my hockey crush so I figured I would share this. IDK what it is but this challenged me a lot and I can’t write a guys perspective to save my life ffs. Dialogue is hard my doods. Anyway, enjoy and let me know what you think! 

Going to the club was the last thing you wanted to do. Between working two jobs and trying to stay on top of your classes it didn’t leave much free time and you didn’t want to spend that sparse time dealing with drunk people and loud music. Your boyfriend, Matthew, had insisted that this was exactly what you needed after the week you had. At this point you both had been there long enough to see friends call it a night and you were pretty sure that Matthew was one drink away from making a fool out of himself. 

“Matt, can we please go?” you asked, hoping that he would finally agree. 

“Loosen up! We never get to spend time together. Let’s enjoy this!” he practically yelled. 

“We’ve been here long enough. It’s late and I have an early shift tomorrow.” you urged. At this point you wanted to go home, get out of this dress and crawl into bed. Nothing at this bar held your attention. Matt’s had grabbed your arm, his face inches from yours.

“I said no. We’re not going anywhere. I’m not finished here.” he ground out. 

The look on his face left little room for argument and was quite scary. Matt was usually a nice guy, the perfect boyfriend, but after drinking he could become a totally different person. Matt had never hit you but the emotional toll it took on you could be just as painful as a physical blow. After the week you’ve had of working 12-14 hour days just to come home and clean before passing out just to do it all over again made you throw all caution to the wind. You wanted to go home for fucks sake, not be here. 

You snached your arm from his grip, looking him in the eyes, “I’m tired, I’m going home. You can stay if you want but I’m not.” 

Before he could say anything you spun on your heels and marched out the side door that led to a less busy street. You hoped this would give you some peace and quiet as you ordered your Uber. Just as you tapped the app to get an Uber the door behind you swung open. Matt stumbled through the doorway and onto the sidewalk with you. 

“You can’t leave me,” he said. 

“Matt, I’m going home to sleep. I don’t care what you do.” 

“I said no!” he roared. Before you could comprehend what was happening your head snapped back and you were pushed against the outside wall of the bar. The brick dug into your skin as you tried to struggle against the hands holding you there. 

“Why don’t you ever listen to me you bitch.” he said as his fingers dug into your throat, “If I tell you to do something you fucking do it!” 

Panic seized your chest as his hands circled around your throat. The throbbing in your head forgotten about as your fight or flight instincts kicked in. You tried to kick him as hard as you could but it seemed like he wasn’t phased at all by it. Your hands grabbed onto his, your fingernails digging into his skin trying to get any distance between his hands and your throat. Just as spots began to dance around your vision the same door you both had exited from swung open and a group of people spilled out. 

Before you could try and scream for help one of them turned around and spotted you. His face went from relaxed and playful to murderous in seconds. You didn’t have time to gather your thoughts before he was charging both of you, shoving Matt off of you. You fell to the ground in a pile, your muscles felt like jello but your brain screamed at you to run. Looking up at the situation happening in front of you all you could see was the back of the stranger that had come to your rescue. His friends had caught on quick and made it over to stand around you too, like shields between you and Matt,  as you gathered yourself. 

“Is there a problem?” One of them said, the voice sounded like it came from the one that had charged Matt but your brain couldn’t comprehend everything that was happening. 

Matt stumbled to his feet before looking at the mystery men. “Mind your business” he slurred. 

“I don’t think so. You want to get to her, you have to go through us.” a voice called out. 

For a moment it looked like Matt was considering it. His eyes scanned each guy before landing on you. 

“This isn’t over you fucking bitch!” he yelled before turning around and making his way back into the bar. 

The door didn’t have time to shut all the way before one of your saviors crouched down in front of you. His hazel eyes searched your face, “ Are you okay?” he asked 

As much as you wanted to tell him your entire body felt weighed down, you bit back your weakness,

 “I’m fine.” you said as you began to try and stand. It took a couple tries to get your feet under you. You tried to use what energy you had to stand, you were nearly there when your legs went to give out. Hands caught you around your waist and pulled you the rest of the way up. 

“You don’t look fine” the mystery man said and he held onto you, carrying the majority of your weight. “Look, let me get you somewhere safe and I can take you home”

You looked at him, searching his face for dishonesty. At this point you figured that someone, or a group of people, that came to your rescue surely couldn’t be bad people. You silently agreed for his help with a nod of your head. 

The rest of the time you spent with the group of them went by in a blur. They all talked amongst themselves in whispers, every now and then you caught words. At one point you caught the name “André” and you assumed this was the name of the guy holding you up. Before long a car pulled to the curb and your stranger opened the door for you before helping you inside. None of the other guys followed so you assumed they were getting their own Uber. 

The ride was silent for a few moments before his voice broke through, “I’m André by the way” 

“Y/N” 

“I didn’t know where you would want to go so I figured you could come to my place and then decide what you want to do,” he said. 

You looked at him and nodded, whispering a “thank you” as you settled into the seat. You shouldn’t feel comfortable about going home with a guy you just met outside a bar but for some reason you felt safe with him. He gave off a genuine arua of concern and wanting to help. Before you could think about it too much your world faded to black and you let your exhausted and battered body rest. 

_______________________________

Having a night off from hockey was rare. What was even more rare was being able to have a guys night with some of the team. Most of the time when games weren’t being played or practice were being held, everyone would go their own ways. Some would spend time with their significant other, some would spend time alone or some would visit family if the break was long enough. 

Tonight a few of us had decided to let loose and bar hop across Denver. Usually this time of year the weather was starting to get cooler which made bar hopping more of a chore. Tonight however, the weather was perfect which gave us plenty of reason to have some fun. 

The first bar we went to was picked by Miko. He said this was the best bar in Denver with the hottest chicks so more than a few in our group were eager to get there. 

The outside of the building was modern with sleek black walls and the walls that weren’t stone were see-through glass. Through the windows we could see people dancing with lights strobing through the air.

 We quickly made our way inside and were ushered to a VIP section, one of the many perks of playing professional sports was getting recognized when out since it usually led to getting a more private area. The captain of the team was with us so of course we were bound to be recognized. 

We all bounced around from group to group chatting and drinking. Some of the guys had found partners to dance with while the rest of us just hung out. Time passed and we all were eventually some level of intoxicated, some more than others. Nate brought up the idea of heading to the Pur, a rooftop bar with a chill atmosphere. A group of us thought that was a great plan. The constant bass and flashing lights got old as the night wore on. 

The five of us; Gabe, Nate, Miko, Gru and myself headed toward the back door. We hoped we could escape quietly and back doors were usually best for doing that. 

The heavy door swung shut behind us as we spilled into the cool Denver night. A noise caught my attention, turning my head to see who else was out here, I was met with a scene I wasn’t expecting. A man had a woman pinned to the side of the building. Her feet dangled off of the ground and her hands gripped his that were circling around her throat. Time seemed to stop and instinct took over as I rushed to them. Before I could comprehend what I was doing my fist was sailing through the air, connecting with the man's face before he fell to the ground. The girl slumped to the side of the building in a heap. Concern for her swam through my body but I knew this guy had to leave before I could help her. 

The man stumbled to his feet. By now the guys had joined me, putting ourselves between the pair. 

“Is there a problem?” Gave asked

“Mind your business” the man mumbled. 

Rage burned through my body and it took everything in me to not pummel this guy. 

“I don’t think so.” I called out. 

The man took a moment. His eyes scanned each one of us. He must have eventually decided he was outnumbered and didn’t want to take his chances. 

“This isn’t over you fucking bitch!” He yelled before stumbling through the door we had just come out of. Relief flooded me now that we didn’t have a fight on our hands. A whimper from behind me had me turning and dropping to my knees. 

“Are you okay?” I asked. My eyes scanned over her checking for major injuries. Her breathing hitched as she tried to push herself up to stand. Halfway up her legs seemed to give way. Before she could tumble to the ground I grabbed her, hauling her to her feet and holding as much of her weight as I could. 

Her hands tangled in my shirt holding on for dear life. There’s no way she would be able to make it home and I didn’t trust leaving her like this with a stranger. Looking around the group of guys, Gabe was the first to speak up. 

“What’s your plan? Get an Uber?” He asked. 

“Yeah, I think I will take her to my place. I have a spare room she can sleep in and she can figure out something in the morning” 

The guys nodded in agreement. No one wanted to leave her alone right now. Especially not with her angry boyfriend, or ex boyfriend I hope, on the loose. 

“I’ll get you guys an Uber,” Gru piped up. 

“Thanks” I muttered, turning my attention back to the girl clinging on to me. 

The rest of the wait was quiet. No one talked about going anywhere else for the night. I’m sure at this point everyone wanted to go home and decompress from what had happened. Before long the Uber pulled up and I shuffled us around to open the door. With some adjustments I was able to sit her down and close the door before nodding to the guys and making my way around the car to climb in beside her. 

The driver took off immediately, glancing in the rear view mirror between the two of us. We didn’t make it far before i turned to her, 

“I’m André by the way” 

Her sad eyes met mine and for a moment I didn’t think she would say anything until I heard a whisper. 

“Y/N” 

Her voice sounded awful and the emotion behind her eyes told me how exhausted she really was. 

“I didn’t know where you would want to go so I figured you could come to my place and then decide what you want to do,” I told her. 

She looked at me again before croaking out a “thank you”. The rest of the ride was quiet. Once we arrived at my place I figured out why it was quite. At some point during the drive Y/N must had fallen asleep, her head was leaning against the window and her body was curled right around herself. 

I climbed out of the car and went to her side. Carefully I opened the door, catching her head when it went to fall. Surprisingly she didn’t wake so I slid my arms under her lifting her out of the car and pulling her against my chest. 

Unlocking the door and navigating through my apartment while carrying another person was harder than I would have imagined. I made it to my guest room and laid her on the bed. Not wanting her to wake up uncomfortable I took her shoes off before covering her with blankets and shutting the door on my way out. 

I settled on the couch with a beer from the fridge before releasing the breath that seemed stuck in my chest. The last thing I thought about before drifting off was the broken girl sleeping in the other room.

#andre burakovsky x reader #andre burakovsky #nhl #hockey #colorado avs #colorado avalanche #gabe landeskog #gabriel landeskog #nathan mckinnon #philipp grubauer

[soramel]

Curiosity didn’t kill the cat | jjk ff

[COMPLETE] Part 4

jjkxreader

Prompt: “You’re early,” said the grim reaper with a hint of amusement.

Fantasy au, sageuk au, royalty au, grimreaper!jungkook, reader, romance, slow-burn

Words: 1.9k approx. Part 4/7 Content warning: smut, violence, angst

This is the last part in my Tumblr account. Part 5 to 7 (fin) can be found in my wattpad account

--

You stayed home the whole morning, staring out the window. You watched the cars passing by the bridge crossing the Han river.

Now you're plopped down on the couch while Jungkook is vacuuming the floor.

"Don't you have work today?" you asked.

Jungkook shook his head in reply. "There's no one on my schedule. I checked."

"Why don't you have a TV here? How do you pass time?" you whined. You might be safer compared to being outside, encountering different souls and human energies, but you thought this kind of boredom could kill too.

You learned last night that you don't tire out like a human does. It's your energy running out, which can be restored by sleep, rest, or eating food offerings for those who passed. However, if you stayed long enough wandering, those wouldn't suffice. Ghosts like Taehyung's assignee and the man in that business district, they feed off from wandering souls like you. Your energy is still of a human because you died in a wrong time, but they could easily get your energy from your form.

Jungkook didn't respond and continued cleaning.

You sighed. You're fully rested, so you can't really go back and sleep the day off.

You jumped at an idea, "How about I visit my funeral?" you didn't really want to. You don't want to see your family and friends being sad because of your passing. Besides, the spirit guide promised you that you could go back to your old life. You just have to wait. And you have a powerful grim reaper protecting you, so you're all good.

He shook his head, and firmly said, "No. It's not safe there. I told you that's a hotspot for starving souls."

"But I have you!" you insisted.

Jungkook turned off the vacuum, placing a hand on his hip, squaring his shoulders. He then said, "Remember when the lady almost got you? What if we encounter five of them? I'm not omnipotent, Y/n. I'd lay my life to protect you, but I don't really die so it's pointless. Once you're out of my grasp, you're on your own."

His warning rendered you speechless. Unconsciously, you huffed in a pout.

Jungkook's expression fell at your reaction, but there's nothing else he could do.

The doorbell rang.

Both of you turned to the sound.

The grim reaper tucked in the vacuum, leaving it to stand, before going to the door.

"Sir Jeon," you heard a wavering man's voice.

"Mr. Choi, what brought you here?" Jungkook queried, his voice tensed. He repeatedly wished for you not to show yourself and he hoped telepathy would work. But of course, your curiosity won. You peeked from the hallway and saw a man in his 30's.

His gaze shifted from Jungkook to yours. His eyes widened in thirst. For a second, the white of his eyes faded.

"Mr. Choi," Jungkook snapped.

The ghost stared back to him, as his eyes went back to normal.

"Sir Jungkook. It's my daughter. She's having a fever and her mother's not yet back from the business trip," the man explained.

"Her nanny didn't show up this morning. She's been alone since last night," he went on, his sweaty hands fidgeting as he asked for help. "Please, help her."

Jungkook stilled for a moment, before responding, "I'm not allowed to make calls in the human world, Mr. Choi. I'm not allowed to interfere on that matter."

Mr. Choi kneeled, pressing his hands together, and begged, "Please, sir. I, I tried to help. I've been trying to possess a human's body but my soul is too weak. I haven't fed for weeks. I couldn't visit a burial without getting killed by a starving ghost. Please, you're all I have."

"Mr. Choi-"

"Her!" he pointed at you.

"She can help."

Mr. Choi looked at you, his eyes pleading.

"Please help my daughter," he asked you directly.

Jungkook backed away from the door, "No," he sternly said. "She's not fit for what you're asking."

The man argued, "She just died! I can feel her energy from here, she could possess anyone easily!"

Then insisted, "Young lady, please. It's not that much. Just bring her to the hospital."

Jungkook stood firm, resolved to kick the man out, "I said no. Go-"

"Jungkook. It's okay. I'll help him," you said to him.

"Y/n," his voice laced with disapproval, while the man bowed repeatedly. "Thank you! Thank you!" he uttered over and over in gratefulness.

--

When you arrived at the apartment complex, you started looking around for someone to possess. You saw a college student, much like you, walking. Jungkook stopped you before you could take a step.

"Not her. She's not well rested. You'll be stuck in her body if her soul surrendered."

You nodded and tried to look for another. There's another woman, but she's with her child. It seemed like they're waiting for a taxi.

You surveyed the area. There are only cars passing by the highway.

Mr. Choi hesitatingly spoke, "Please hurry, it took me long to get to you,"

He pursed his lips shut when Jungkook sent him a deadly glare.

Clasping your hands together, you decided to go for the woman. You looked at Jungkook for permission, but he's been nothing but adamant.

So, you strolled forward, with much determination.

Upon nearing the lady, you whispered, "I'll be quick, promise," though she couldn't hear you.

You stepped into her shell, her soul resisting. You can feel yours slowly seeping in.

You tightly closed your eyes and soothingly muttered, "I'll be quick. A young girl's alone in the apartment and she's been sick. Please."

You opened your eyes and felt your spirit settled. You stared at the lady's free hand, then you felt a tug.

Her son stared up at you and said, "Mommy, there's the cab," he informed.

You looked at the driver and waved your hand dismissively. You crouched down to the boy's height and held his face.

"Mommy needs to visit a friend's place first. Okay?" you spoke, while trying not to be startled by your new voice.

The boy nodded.

You gave him a reassuring smile which turned to joy when he smiled back. Showing a gap between his teeth.

Holding the boy's hand, you faced Jungkook and Mr. Choi.

Mr. Choi beamed and led the way to his daughter.

--

You sat beside the hospital bed as you listened to the doctor. "She'll be monitored every four hours. You have nothing to worry about," he smiled at you and to the boy beside you.

"Thank you, doctor. I'll call her mother right away," you informed him.

"Don't mention it. How kind of you to look after your friend's child, Mrs. Kim," he said.

You blinked repeatedly and smiled awkwardly, "Ah, of course."

Then you looked at him as you wait for him to leave.

After an uncomfortable silence, you renewed your smile, "Doc?"

"Ah, yes. Well, then... I have to go. Lots of patients to attend to."

You nodded in reply. You watched him walk away before tripping on his own steps. A chuckle escaped Jungkook's lips, he tried to suppress it to no avail.

--

By the time you managed to bring the boy and the lady back to their home, the sun was already down. The lamp post flickered as you stepped out of the building. Then a snowflake fell on your nose before it passed through, landing on the pavement.

You reached out your hand to catch the first snow only for it to slip through.

Your lips pulled into a bitter smile. At least, you couldn't feel the cold.

Noticing your feet, you moved forward, one step after another.

If you were alive, the road's roughness would scrunch under your feet, the falling snow crystals would land on your skin then would melt away; if you were alive, you'd see your breath in this unforgivable winter.

It's only been days since, but you couldn't help but become impatient. More than a week of waiting would feel like a year.

"You okay?" Jungkook asked as he walked beside you.

Turning to him, you said, "Could be better,"

He nodded. "Let's find a door,"

You touched his arm to stop him, you feel like walking. At least that way, you'd be able to feel the first snow with your eyes.

"Can we walk instead?" you asked.

He frowned and answered, "You look tired. You almost spent a day in someone's body. It should've drained you. I'd need to ask Yoongi or Taehyung to bring us food."

Taking off your hand from him, you tried your best to hide your disappointment. "Just 5 minutes," you bargained. He paused to think, assessing the situation. Afterwards, he agreed.

"Thanks."

You walked forward, watching the sky. The orange light from the posts sparkled against the falling flakes. You basked in the simple beauty you failed to appreciate.

The glitters on the pavement

The rustling of the road as a car passed by

The ding of the bicycle dashing through, towards you

You stood frozen in shock as the biker permeated. It felt like the gravity engulfed you out of your soul, if that's still possible. You're left with nothing now, this is your form at your purest state.

You wobbled and before hitting the ground, Jungkook pulled you by the elbow. Your chest flushed against his as you looked at his face. His features etched with worry.

It felt familiar.

his hold

his arms,

his eyes,

this scene,

the weather.

Everything.

A déjà vu.

Jungkook felt it too. That was evident on how his concerned frown softened into a gaze of longing and admiration.

He couldn't put a name on his emotions, but it felt unstoppable.

It felt right to close the distance between you.

It felt right to rest his palm against your crimson-painted cheeks.

It felt right to acknowledge the pull.

Your eyes shuttered close as his lips met yours.

Everything felt familiar.

You both knew.

And as if the spell that bound you worn out, you pulled apart from each other. Averting each other's eyes.

Jungkook broke the silence by clearing his throat. He then muttered, "Let's go home. You're tired."

After a while, he found a door by the sidewalk. He jerked it to see if it's open and after confirming, he shut it close again.

He laid his hand out to you, at which you took without protest.

Then you were now in his apartment's hallway.

The rest of the night were spent in silence as he retreated to his room.

--

"Taehyung brought this for you," Jungkook blurted as he saw you stirring awake.

The space was lit by the morning light and clanking of plates rung through as the two grim reapers prepare on the dining table.

"I heard you had a rough day. I wish I could've brought food earlier, but I had a graveyard shift," Taehyung explained in a sad face.

You waved your hand dismissively, "It's fine. No worries. I just slept it off."

Taehyung's face lit up, he looked at you, smiling, "I got porridge. They put shrimps and eggs on it. First class."

"I also got tangerines. Though we must save two handfuls for Yoongi-hyung. He's on his way here."

The main door banged open at once, startling you.

"Oops, sorry 'bout that. Hi Y/n," Yoongi greeted.

Jungkook placed the last plate on the table before looking up at the eldest, "Yoongi-hyung, come eat with us."

[Part 5 to 7]

#bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jjk fanfic #jkxreader #jjk #jungkook fantasy au #jjk x reader

[latin-dr-robotnik]

I was tagged by @xsailormobian, thank you! (did you end up making the 10 characters for 10 people thing? just curious, nothing else :P)

Name: Sebastian.

Age: I guess I’m spoiling the surprise, but... pretty much 23.

Height: Yesterday my family pointed out that either I was getting taller, or they were getting smaller. 1,70m is the range I’m always around +/-5, at least to my knowledge.

Zodiac: Leo babyyyy (Pisces rising I’m sure, but earlier this year I found out my moon wasn’t on Libra as I thought, but Leo. Leo sun and moon? That’s one hell of a explosive coctail, with Pisces making me all fluffy and emotional I guess.)

Hogwarts house: idk, what’s the house with all the kids skipping class to smoke magic weed? I’d probably join that.

The last thing I googled: "Noches del Paraguay” Folk music (or as we simply call it, Folklore) is a pretty interesting genre around here. It’s the music all my grandparents listen (or listened) to and its historic origins go way back at least one or two centuries. Noches del Paraguay is one of my favorites ever since I watched Hugo del Carril’s Las Aguas Bajan Turbias (1952.) That movie has a pretty cool interpretation of that song, very fitting for that scene. (Also Hugo’s voice is always such a pleasure to hear.)

Song stuck in my head: Working on the next iteration of the Sonic Music post got me Silent Forest Zone 1 stuck again. Besides that, El Loco is a song I can’t get out of my head, mostly because I’m still learning what the lyrics actually say, lol.

Lucky number: always said 3, and have no reasons to change that.

Wearing: Blue and white shirt, shorts and a pretty big jacket, almost industrial-like, pretty worn down already. #LockdownFashion yayy

Number of followers: 221 (I have something to say about that, but you’ll have to wait until Sunday.)

Amount of sleep: Back to 8 hours, possibly even lowering to 6 since it’s finals season until the 24th of August and soon the stress and anxiety will kick into overdrive.

Favorite instrument: I'm a big sucker for a sexy bass.

Favorite author: Can’t say for sure. Like with music, I don’t really “marry” a single author, and studying History makes me jump through many authors from all over the world all the time, with little time to settle with anyone. Can I just say I love cutegirlmayra’s fanfics? <3

Aesthetic: Pretty much everything you see represented under the “Retrowave” and “Future Funk” umbrellas (that filtered old anime style with some Vaporwave touches? perfect.) During pre-covid winters (unlike this one) I used to enjoy a lot the empty, cold streets of the city at almost midnight. There’s an eerie, potentially dangerous aura to them, and I like it more than I’m willing to admit.

Favorite animal sound: does honk count? :P

Random: The Destroy all Humans! Remake came out yesterday and I’m still unable to play it. Having loved the first two games on the PS2 this is getting quite upsetting to me. I wanna hear Richard Horvitz yelling at me in his Orthopox voice again, ffs.

Tag 17 people: 17... No way? No way! No way! No way! @beevean, @dizzydennis, @imilenium, @skull001, @nessa-likes-fandoms and everyone else that feels like doing it, no pressure!

#ask meme #latin dr robotnik stuff #if you are wondering today i'm feeling better thanks #like sonic r says: another day is like a new beginning

[dearest-alexander]

Hither and Thither- 365 DNI fanfic

Summary: She saved him, in so many ways a man could be saved. Massimo x Laura. 

Author’s Notes: I’ve uploaded this on AO3 & FF. I’m more active there, than here. Please check the sites for updates. 

Read it here:

Archive of our Own

Fanfiction

CHAPTER 1

The Don was talking about something.

The gentle, raspy voice was contrary to the cunning, dangerous man his father could be.

"Molto bene, molto bene, Mario." His father exclaimed in that giddy tone and slapped the man's shoulder, sitting in the front passenger seat. The man gave his father's hand a reassuring squeeze.

He couldn't help but wonder if his father's animateness was a good or bad thing. Being in the family business, the terms are sometimes... interchanged, by certain and normal people anyway.

"What would we do without him?" His father, the Don Torricelli, continued, looking at him for acknowledgment.

"A couple of fun things, for a start." He jested, earning a chuckle from his father and Mario.

Mario was his father's most loyal friend and confidant. He was there ever since he can remember. He was practically family, almost like a second father to him. But he was the strictest man he knew, even stricter than his father. Though, not more dangerous.

He gave a deep sigh and settled in his seat, switching his attention to the familiar scenery of Cefalú.

The familiar streets and alleys blurred as they passed. Locals and tourists alike flooded the white sandy beach. Their big umbrellas providing color to the already-rich scenery. Food carts swarmed the shore, providing refreshments in the scorching Italian summer heat. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the heat.

Everyone one except him.

It was the heat. If there was one thing he hated more than disloyalty and disobedience, it was the fucking heat. He almost didn't want to come today because of it.

But he had to.

"It's part of learning the trade." Mario reminded him this morning— just as he had done on more than one occasion.

Not that he wasn't interested in what his father does—which he was, a hundred percent. But there was this, sort of, defiance. Knowing that the choices he wanted to make have already been made for him, gives him a compelling urge to rebel. To break free and try his own luck in the business.

He wanted to step in, take over, show his father what he's capable of. Show him, without words, that his son was ready to take over. He wanted to see the notorious Victorio Torricelli actually grow old.

He wanted his father to finally surrender his gun in exchange for a quiet life. Because, he was aware that a lot of people in their way of life don't and won't have the same option.

But, like a young cub, he's shunted of his efforts.

"Learn how to walk first before you can run, figlio."

Despite his personal afflictions in anything that involved emotions, he loved his father. He revered him more than anyone else. His father might be the only thing in this world he truly cared about.

And money, of course.

The car stopped at their destination; a restaurant in the middle of a marketplace, right at the heart of the town. He exchanged a disapproving look with Mario through the rearview mirror. It was unusual for the Don to pick such a public venue for a meeting.

He was not hiding his objection and tried persuading his father to change location since the day he knew.

"Pa, it's too public. You can't be serious."

"Ah, figlio. Always worrying about me."

And why shouldn't he?

When your father's the most feared, most dangerous man in Europe, you learn to sleep with a gun in your hand.

As accustomed, they waited for a few minutes for their detail to secure and check the place. He usually assisted them, but under this weather?

No fucking way.

Mario and his father fell into a quick conversation about when they were teenagers. His dad had retold countless stories about his and Mario's prime. Just two privileged Italian legacies, against the world.

"You remember those girls at the beach?"

"Ey! Didn't you sleep with one of them?" his dad chirped.

"No, I didn't!"

"You did! You son of a bitch!"

"I slept with two!" Mario carolled, making him think of something gross.

They laughed, that good-natured laugh, he could aways expect from them.

He only half listened and continued to ogle at the mundane events happening before him.

The crowd was a river of people from all walks of life. A riot of colorful clothes under a huge tent of different loots and merchandise.

Everyone seemed to move from all different directions. The cacophony of blabber outside reverberated even on his tinted windows. Heat radiated their jolly faces. He could easily spot the tourists by their awful hats and big ass cameras hanging around their neck. And the locals, with their loud and rude gesticulation.

There was music coming from the makeshift stage on the beach. A few sunburnt, drunk, and barely clad guests were swaying to the bass. If everything went as planned today, they could stay the night here and he could slip to the rave.

His eyes fell on the bookstand a few feet west from where their car was. A couple of skateboard punks wheezed through the stand. One of them nudged the corner of the table and mountains of books toppled on the sandy pavement. He could hear the owner screaming at the kids, who didn't even turn back. His face was crimson with anger, a book threatening to fly from his hairy hand.

A petite woman with dark hair scrunched under a floppy hat, approached him. Her light skin was a fair contrast to the blue summer ensemble she's donning. She squatted down to help the poor man.

It startled him for a second.

Kindness has always been a mystery to him.

To him, kindness was the coercive reaction and result to fear.

Nothing in this world has been ever genuine—he realized that from a very young age.

Must be a foreigner. He thought. No local could be that generous.

He watched as the man, who appeared flushed all of a sudden, stood up, books recovered under his arms. The lady, who still had her back to the car, offered her gathered books back to the vendor. She must have said something because the man was nodding in a very vigorous manner. She then proceeded to slide her fingers on the display of books.

The merchant was still staring at her with a stupid smile on his wrinkled face. The woman picked up a book. She showed it to the man who nodded and grabbed a bag from under the table.

He observed, with an amused and curious expression as the people passing by the tent all did a double take at the woman. Some women narrowed their eyes, as if envious while all men have sheepish grins on their faces.

He sat straighter in his seat.

Turn around, baby girl.

The woman was and completely in her own element. He found himself transfixed by the way she's skimming her slender fingers on the book stacks

He caught himself and frowned.

What the fuck?

"Cosa pensi, Massimo?" His father asked.

He whipped his head back to his father, and tried to look anything but distracted.

A knock rapped Mario's window, saving him from his father's inquisitive brow. Outside, Domenico, his half-brother, gave them an assuring nod.

Mario got out first, before him and his father. Perspiration trickled down his neck in an instant. His hair clung in clusters on his nape.

He cursed.

He couldn't understand how anyone could enjoy themselves when the weather was dry and as hot as a desert. He could feel the gravel smoldering beneath his shoes. He might as well ask one of his guards to fry an egg on the sidewalk to prove the point to his father.

His father knew how much he hated the Italian summer heat.

"Whoa! Hot! Hot" His dad smirked at him, a teasing glint in his eyes. He was fanning his hands with an exaggerated flair before an umbrella came to his aid.

He groaned and rolled his eyes at his father. Taking pride in himself that he was the only person allowed to do so.

Six men from the entourage, stood beside them as they walked towards the restaurant.

Upon entry, they're welcomed by the loud blabbers and aroma of Mediterranean dishes.

"Buon pomeriggio."

A tall, lean, olive-skinned woman greeted them, her dark eyes lingering on him the most. He removed his sunglasses and tucked in on his dress shirt.

He heard the woman's breath hitched.

He couldn't help the smug smirk that formed on his lips.

Mario stepped in. And the woman bowed her head, as if finally recognizing the dangerous men before her. In an instant, she cast her eyes down and moved out of the way.

May be I'll have my fun with her later.

Domenico lead them to a wooden staircase and outside the balcony. A couple of diners were there, seated under their own umbrellas. Cocktails, appetizers on hand.

Great. More parching heat.

He walked to a secluded tent in the corner, away from the impertinent eyes and ears of civilians.

Two men were already sitting under the canopy, waiting, looking angst.

As they should be.

They're negotiators for a new venture his dad was looking into.

They lowered their eyes as they shook his father's hand. Their adoration was plain on their faces.

But were they real though?

He learned that love and fear, like good and bad, have interchangeable terms.

In this lifestyle, anyway.

Their men spread out and around the perimeter. Their authoritative presence was alarming some of the guests, who didn't hesitate to up and left.

His father and Mario sat down across the two men. While he maintained his distance.

This particular time, he wasn't allowed to join them. Considering what happened last week, he's banned from all negotiations until further notice.

He stood over the railings to past the time and asked for the binoculars from his guard. He occupied himself with the arid and suburban landscape of Cefalu. The heat was emanating from all surfaces and buildings. It's making him even more thirsty than he was

"Get me a bottle of beer. Ice cold. Have that beautiful lady receptionist bring it up to me."

Alek, his guard ever since he was sixteen, nodded and left.

He was looking out into the water when he heard the heightened pitch of his dad. He put the equipment away and observed.

From the pronounced scowl on his father's face, he could assume that it won't be getting any better. His future plans to sneak out later this evening was automatically canceled.

His father stood up and raised his hand in a dismissive wave.

That was the end of the discussion.

He looked pissed.

But as soon as the Don met his gaze, the old man smiled, the corner of his eyes shining with mischief.

"Fucking opportunists." His father cussed, clapping him on the back.

"You want me to talk to them?"

The Don shook his head and glanced back. "Mario's handling it." He gestured to the binoculars. "We don't want you threatening them away again, do we, son?"

He simpered, "But it's so much fun."

"Figlio, sometimes, you have to compromise. We have to make sure that we have certain people on our side exactly when we need them to be."

"I don't think you need anything or anyone else anymore."

His father laughed, removing the binocs from his face. "Have I thought you nothing?"

That's when he realized what how he must have sounded.

"Non accontentarti mai, anche se hai tutto, Massimo." His dad reiterated, forcing another smile from him. "Don't ever-"

"Don't ever settle. Even if you have everything." he repeated. "I know Pa, I know. My bad."

His father grabbed his shoulders so he was facing him. "And you do your best not to forget it."

He beamed down at him. "Sì."

His father cupped his face, like when he was a kid. The dark eyes, feared by many, gleamed with a raw and familiar with emotion.

And he knew why; he has his mother's eyes. His father often told him that he could still see her stubbornness alight in them every time they talk. He placed a hand on his father's forearm.

"You're-" He heard a sharp whoosh of wind and his father's sentence abruptly stopped. The paternal smile faded and a shocked expression replaced it.

His mind and body went numb.

Behind them, someone shouted. And chaos breaks.

He held his father. One hand on his shoulder, the other on the gushing wound staining his chest.

What's happening?

He was trying to keep them upright, but he felt weak, like someone's, something, was sucking the life out of him. His father slipped from his hands and dropped on his back.

His world went into a complete standstill.

A tight, burning pressure permeated from his torso and he fell down. Arms splayed out, the bright, yellow sun, blinding him.

The men were running, their guns poised in the air. The guests on the balcony scrambled down the staircase, screaming their heads off. He saw a flash of blue before he heard Mario shouted different orders to the men.

He closed his eyes and tasted the rust on his tongue. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound ever came. A pain shoot from his side, like a thousand hot electric needles pricking him. His muscles were tense. He was sweating, but at the same time felt like someone poured a bucket of ice cold water on him. He coughed and thick, warm liquid spurted out of his mouth.

No.

He became aware of his heartbeat slowing down, its weak thumps vibrating in his ears. The excruciating pain doubled, paralyzing him even more. His breathing became shallow, fast, gasps. He heard his name shouted over the dry wind.

Domenico.

Domenico crouched down and shook him. He slapped his face, his expression livid.

He and Domenico loved wrestling and kick-boxing, since they were kids. Being older and bigger than Nico, gave him a huge disadvantage; he always wins. Nico doesn't have a chance.

He almost wanted to taunt his brother and point out that this is the first time he couldn't get up to beat his ass.

"Wake up!" He grabbed the lapels of his shirt, pulling him up. "Don't you dare die on me!"

He winced, both from the pain, shaking his entire body and his little brother's trembling voice.

Idiot.

Leave me alone, Nico.

He never felt so exhausted.

Papa, Go to Papa.

He wanted to sleep.

Leave me be.

He just wanted to fucking sleep.

Domenico stopped shaking him. Somebody from behind grabbed his brother away. Domenico cried out, struggling to get back.

Get him out of here. Get both them out of here.

He closed his eyes and swallowed. He heard voices, so many voices. But they're muffled, like someone put cotton in his ears, drowning him out. He could feel each footfall vibrating on the ground. Somehow, he couldn't feel the heat he felt from it earlier.

He only felt the cold.

Good. I hate the fucking summer.

Everybody seemed to have abandoned him.

Finally.

He wanted to rest.

Time to rest.

But then, a shadow fell above his closed eyes, blocking out the blistering sun. A warm, soft hand touched his, raised it and pressed it on his chest. He felt it ran over his face, leaving tingling, warm impression.

It surprised him.

Without warning whatsoever, the warm, comforting sensation pulled him back. Away from the cold, drab void sucking him.

Then, the warmth left him, as swiftly as it came.

No.

Come back.

It was a struggle to open his eyes. But he did.

He blinked and sees someone, a woman, hovering over him.

Why does she look so familiar?

Then it hit him.

The woman in the bookshop.

The moment his eyes focused on her, she seemed relieved.

He felt it resonate through him.

Somehow, she appeared brighter, more unbearable to look at than the fucking sun above them.

She removed her floppy hat, placed it behind his head and used it as a cushion. She smiled down at him. Her mouth was moving, but he couldn't hear what she was saying.

He concentrated on her dark eyes, and even darker, almost, raven hair, flowing freely over the wind. Her lips were pink and soft as a carnation in full bloom. Her nose, tall and prominent. Her jaws, chiseled to look at but felt so delicate to touch.

He felt the remaining air knocked out of him.

He wanted to reach up and caress her beautiful face, but his body wasn't cooperating with him at the moment. Because everything hurts.

Everything fucking hurts.

The woman worked above him. He couldn't tell what she was doing. But his eyes bulged out of its sockets when he felt her, pressing her hand, hard, on his side.

He looked down and saw her holding a blood-soaked napkin on his torso. A sharp pain lanced through him, making him bite on his tongue. He closed his fist around hers.

Please, stop.

The woman cradled his head, soothing him. Her sweet, but firm voice, muffled by the pain. "We have to keep applying pressure. You're alright. You're okay."

The discomfort from his side was making it harder to think. He saw colorful spots flashed before his eyes, merging and splitting into thousand circular patterns. He let out a strangled scream and held the woman's wrist.

Make it stop.

"I'm sorry, I know it hurts. But I have to, okay?"

Her face swam back into focus again, clearer than everything and everyone else.

Her hair was falling around her face. He wondered what her hair would feel like wrapped around his finger. He wanted to tuck it behind her ear and see her blush.

He wanted to see it more than anything else.

"It's okay, you're gonna be okay." He heard her cooed through the haze before then she roared, "You work for him?!" Her voice as sharp as her face.

"Ye-yes." He recognized Alek's voice, the only one in his men who can speak English.

"Okay!... Bring me a flat surface... No… I don't care! Break the table, if you have to! He needs to be lying down!"

He never heard someone yelled at his men like that, not even his father, not even him. This tiny woman was barking orders to his people like she fucking owns them.

Atta, girl.

He felt his body spasm out of control; he was trembling again. This time, it's more unnerving than the last. The consciousness, he was trying his best to hold on to was slipping.

He was falling through the empty, dark space again; the space he knew was reserved for people like him.

"Hey! Hey! I'm here! I'm here!" she shouted at him, raking her fingers through his hair.

That felt good.

"Look at me."

And he did.

Her eyes were enthralling, it felt like they were the only thing keeping him here. It felt like it would hurt more to look away.

What color are they? He mused.

A flashback appeared before his eyes- a forgotten memory. He's eight again. He's baking. His mom was laughing beside him. He missed her laugh. She was letting him whisk the melted dark chocolate for the cake. She dipped her fingers in the bowl and bopped him on the nose.

Mamma.

"No, no no." he heard the raven-haired woman again. Her voice, disembodied like she's talking from behind a veil.

The wonderful slender fingers stroke his jaw again, like she did those books. "Stay with me." she said. Her tone was the borderline between a plead and a direct order.

He wanted to laugh. Nobody orders him around. But he did as he's told.

"That's it. Eyes on me." She uttered with her big, penetrating eyes.

Gray. Her eyes were gray, like the color of a giant sea storm.

"Where's that table?!" she howled again.

He kept his gaze on her, trying to name and decipher all the grays in her eyes.

If his life wasn't ebbing away, he would've found the situation ludicrous. The great Massimo Torricelli was finally taking his time gazing at someone else's eyes for the very first time.

And the last time.

How fucking twisted is that?

"Stay with me. Stay with me. They're coming." She whispered. One hand was holding his head up, the other was still in the gnashing bullet wound, applying pressure. The blood spilling from him was staining the blue romper she's wearing. He felt sorry. Why does he always have to destroy beautiful things?

I'm sorry. He almost wanted to say.

Dying really does bring the firsts out of people.

"Hurry up!"

He stared at her beautiful, angelic face, committing everything in his memory.

"Stay with me." she murmured again, flicking her eyes to his face and wound every now and then.

His dry lips cracked into an agonized smile. He wanted to comfort her, tell her it's alright.

But he knew.

He'd always known.

From the very first time he pulled the trigger.

Nobody's coming to save the devil.

He stopped believing in God decades ago. But in these few moments of limbo, he realized that this- seeing her for the first and last time- was the cruelest punishment he could ever have.

He clutched her hand with his shaky ones, rallied the remaining power in his body and choked, "Mio Angelo."

And the darkness welcomed him, like the prodigal son that he was.

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

5 years later.

Warsaw, Poland

-I'm so sorry. I'll come over tomorrow. I promise, B.

She received the reply a few seconds later:

-Girl, it's okay. I have my wine and a half naked Paul Wesley on tv. It's fine, I'm not thinking about whatishface.

She texted back, guilt shrouding her:

-Are you sure it's okay?

Again, she didn't wait a second for her response.

-I am! Go and kick their ass, Laura. x

The text elicited a smile from her. She shoved her phone in her bag and storms the elevator.

Furious was an understatement.

She's supposed to have dinner with one of her best friends tonight. But because David Sawicki can't do his job properly, she's stuck here for the next hour. She heard the echoes of her most prized heels on the floor tile. Her fists clenched beside her, her lips pursed in a straight line. She felt the anger emitting like, from her skin.

The employees on either side of her parted and flattened themselves on the walls. She made her way to the board room, avoiding anyone's judgmental gaze.

They don't know what happened. Let them look.

She reached the heavy wooden door of the conference room and pushed. There were only four people in the room.

"Good evening, Miss Biel." Oskar, the PR manager greeted. She returned his warm smile and sat on the empty swivel chair next to him.

James, the head of their security sat in the nearest chair by the door. Marissa, the senior head's secretary was eyeing up the bastard sitting across her. But Sawicki was ignoring her. He was ignoring everyone in the room, except her.

She met his belittling gaze.

"Have you packed your shit already, Miss Biel?"

She sneered back at him. "Shouldn't you be asking yourself that question?"

Before he could make a comeback, the doors opened and the senior head entered.

"Good evening." Hayden Marek addressed the room, his eyes glued on the stack of folder he's holding.

Without further ado, he took his seat at the center of the table. "Now, can anyone please explain to me what the hell happened yesterday-"

The room was quiet. Her eyes remained on Sawicki, challenging and unfaltering.

Marek raised his voice. "-And how the fuck did it happen?!"

Sawicki was quick to point fingers—as the child that he always has been. "Why should we ask Miss Biel? Excuse my language, but one needs to have balls to have this job."

The room turned to her.

"Miss Biel?"

"First of all, it's not my fault." She started, cool, calm, and collected.

"Listen, Ma'am-" Sawicki butted in.

"I haven't finished yet." She hissed at Sawicki. "As I was saying Mr. Marek, it's not my fault. I'm in charge of bookings and reservations. It has never been my job to temper rowdy customers."

She narrowed her eyes at Sawecki. "And I think you should explain to us, why in the entire building there are only two security guards in the building? I remember explicitly suggesting that we need more. Since the band is Beatles level famous. I remember telling you that at our briefing, Mr. Sawecki."

Beside her, she could feel her friend trying to hide his smile.

"I booked the band at our hotel on purpose. They're at the top of their game and we need the publicity. We gave them and their team the best rooms. We even closed down the bar and buffet room to give them their privacy. Me and my team went to them ourselves and asked for anything they might need. Even if it's not part of our job."

She continued, holding everyone's attention. "Everything was going smoothly, until a roadie got past security and caused a scene. One of the members got mad because we promised them privacy."

Sawicki was speechless. He knew the story himself, having happened before his eyes.

"The roadie sent messages, bragging how she got in. And before we knew it, a legion of slutty teenagers bombarded the lobby. The band barely got out. If it weren't for the efforts of my team. I dealt with the press and strategized a new approach so we wouldn't lose our loyal customers and patrons. I'm proud to say that we are now booked for the next four weekends." She slid the reports to Marek, whose eyes widened at the numbers at the bottom part of the paper.

Yes, keep the ugly, greedy man fat with money.

Marek averted his annoyance to Sawecki. "You, in my office. Right away." And he stood to leave, James and Marissa followed him.

She leaned forward, elbows flat on the table. "This is exactly you need balls for."

Sawecki glowered at her before turning his leave.

Oskar clapped a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Good job, girl." And he too left, leaving her alone in the big, cold conference room.

She gave him another amiable smile, hoping it'll ease the tension in her chest.

Unlike many, Oskar is different. She felt at ease with the old man. Oskar was probably her only friend in this building. Most of them either feared her or wished her out.

They were unsuccessful with that last part.

But she has to admit, she's tired of this. Men constantly disparaging her and her achievements.

Because of what? Her gender?

Unlike those dumbasses she met in med school, she presumed that men in the hospitality sector would be more... non-discriminatory. But no. All men appear to be the same sensitive, egotistical and easily threatened rats she experienced them to be.

Yes. Even her boyfriend fit the bill, sometimes.

Men always tell society that they need strong, intelligent, independent women. But what they really want were cheerleaders. Someone to boost and feed their ego.

She exhaled the deep breath she was holding.

Calm down, Laura.

To distract herself, she checked her phone for the very first time since lunch.

Still no messages from Martin.

"How surprising." she scoffed.

She has never been the clingy type, but a simple short text after a long day at work would ease her stress.

She and Martin had been dating for four years already.

He came up to her at a hotel event and made an actual fool of himself to get her attention. She thought it was cute. Two years into the relationship, she sold her apartment and moved in with him. One year of living together, he proposed. And to this day, she didn't know what came over her to say yes.

For the past few months, they've been having more arguments. His reason? She's spending way too much hours with her work and no time for him at all. And she felt guilty, because it's true.

Thus, she's been trying to redeem herself. She tried to come home early, prepare his food and do other stereotypical duties of a good fiancé. But still felt... insufficient. Like something was missing.

Olga was having none of it. She hated the man. Unlike Bianka, she has never warmed up to Martin, even after all theses years. "You fool, don't settle for that lazy, bald freak. You're not his maid. Let him wash his own smelly gartered underwear." and she added, for good measure,

"Passion is essential to every relationship, as important as love."

Olga was always the voice of reason- whenever she wanted to be,

But she loves Martin.

She felt passionate about him.

She loves him.

Right?

If that wasn't love, why did she buy their tickets to Sicily for her birthday weekend? Why did she booked those romantic getaways? Martin was pretty excited about it.

That's love.

"I love him." she convinced herself. "You love Martin, Laura. Stop overthinking it."

The door creaked open again and the maintenance guy went in, pushing his mop cart. The man stopped and apologized.

"Przepraszam, Miss Laura. I thought it's empty."

"No, no. It's fine. I was just leaving" She smiled and gather her things. "Have a good night."

"You too, miss."

The floor was now empty, except for the cleaners who waved in her direction. She waved back, sincere and friendly.

As she was about to press the elevator button, when Oskar called her from the doorway of his office.

"Laura?"

She turned. "Mmm?"

"Marek told me that he wants to meet with you tomorrow. His office at 4."

"What?" She couldn't help but the thrill in ringing in her voice. But she toned it down. "Why?"

Her friend jiggled his eyebrows at her. "I don't know. Marek called me to say that Sawecki no longer works here. The General Manager position is open."

Laura squealed and hugged the man. She has not been working her ass off for four years to settle for the beta position. She knew she deserved so much more than what they're already giving her.

"Thank you, thank you!"

"Hey, all you sweetheart." Oskar kissed both her cheeks. "As an early gift, I have my driver take you home."

"What, no-"

"No buts. Besides, I have a date. A very hot date."

"Oh! Where'd you meet him?" She teased.

"Now you know that I don't kiss and tell, Laura sweetie."

"Kinky! I love it."

"Now get your ass out of here, Conrad is already in the lobby."

"Thank you so much." She enveloped him another tight hug before hurrying down the elevator.

Her mind was still reeling from, the possibilities of her promotion. She went over her mental list of the changes she could make to the management. This was probably the best birthday present she's ever had in years.

As he promised, Oskar's driver was waiting for her. Conrad has always been shy around her. He was standing by the passenger door and opened it as she approached.

"Dziękuję Ci." She smiled.

The man turned pink and nodded.

She didn't need to tell him the directions since Oskar has offered to take her home countless of times. Most of those times were, when Martin forgets to pick her up.

It wasn't a long ride, only a good thirty minutes—including the traffic. She could take the cab, if they weren't too damn expensive this time of year. If the bus fumes wouldn't kill her, she would literally take the bus every single day.

She was in her third year of MED school when her grandmother fell ill and died. Due to debt and budget constrictions, she's forced to quit the one thing she cared about the most.

She loved medicine, she loved studying it. The lengthy explanations, crucial step by step procedures, the jargons appealed to her.

With the death of her grandmama and her quitting medicine, she had a relapse and fell into a mild depression.

That's when her body developed it.

She was out with Olga that day she first fainted. She thought it was only panic attacks but it became more frequent. She consulted her doctor and found out she has Supraventricular Tachycardia. In simpler terms, she has a heart palpitations. That meant that her heart was beating more than it normally should. Her condition causes her to, sometimes, pass out and hyperventilate. This prevented her from engaging in strenuous exercises, smoking, stressful situations and caffeine.

She hated it. Everyone who knew has treated her like she's something fragile, like, she'll break at the tiniest push. It was disconcerting. So, she decided to keep it a secret, that even her parents didn't know.

She had no plans to tell Martin because it might affect their relationship—which it did. He accidentally found out a few months after they moved in together.

She couldn't tell anyone at work, except of course, the HR manager. She couldn't let assholes like David Sawicki get the slightest indication that there's a chink within her armor.

The only persons who do know were her college best friends, Bianka and Olga, and her doctor.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Martin.

Finally.

Hey honey, I'm coming late from work. Don't wait up for me.

Wanting to prove to herself that what she felt for him was still valid, Laura smiled deviously. She glanced in the rear view mirror to make sure Conrad wasn't looking where wasn't supposed to.

She unbuttoned her blouse, down to the last three buttons. She recorded a video and captioned it with:

Aww. But they miss you.

When he didn't reply in the first three minutes, she sent him another. She hiked her skirt to her upper thighs, widened her thighs and snapped a picture.

I miss you.

She was feeling hot that she slid her fingers on her inner thighs. She kept her moans to herself.

She waited for his reply, but it didn't come. Not even when she reached their apartment.

The frustration was twisting her abdomen, evil and needy. Martin's coming off late ever since... she couldn't remember.

A few weeks ago, he's required to put extra hours for the insurance firm he's working for. It was a slap to her face; she's finally having a taste of her own medicine. But she didn't pressure him on it. Nor complain to him about it. She loved a hard-working man. Besides, that way, he could finally get off her back for doing the same.

But as a consequence, she's left… dry and unsatisfied. With only her toys and fingers for company.

She sighed and threw her bag on the hook, and shook her hair out of her bun.

She took a quick look around.

At least, he left the apartment clean before he left this morning.

Martin was the messiest person she knew. Seriously, how hard is it to throw your wet towel in the dryer? Or put the scissors back where he got it from?

The knot in her abdomen tightened and she bit her lip. She went to check on her phone.

Still nothing from Martin.

She called him, but it went straight to voicemail.

"Oh, fuck it."

She poured herself a glass of wine before going to their bedroom. Even though she's alone in the apartment, she closed the door as a form of habit.

Martin doesn't like it when she pleasured herself.

She pulled out her special drawer and grabbed the black toy hidden among her sweat pants. The sight of it alone made her insides clenched in excitement. She took s huge gulp of wine and began to undress herself.

Her fingers traced her curves, slowly. The pads of her thumbs brushed over her nipples. She let out the loud moan she's been holding in the car before she switched the vibrator on.

The buzzing filled her ears, making the fire in her belly burn even more. She grazed it over her bra. Her nipples erected in their lacey confine. She removesd the clasp of her bra, to her own slow pace, and shimmied out her drenched undies. She lay on the bed.

There were certain advantages of studying medicine. Aside from treating other people part, this was one of them.

Shew was gasping now. Her hand was rolling the toy over the sensitive spot. Just the right amount of roughness, if not, more. Something Martin could never do, no matter how many times she told him how.

Her moans rocked their stilled apartment. She arched her back as she pumped against her own palm, using her legs and feet to meet her strokes.

She bit the back of her hand as she felt the white heat dripping from her. Her back landed back on the mattress and she waited for her heart to slow down.

But she knew she could take more.

God.

She could take so much more.

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#365 dni #365 days #laura biel #massimo torricelli #Laura x Massimo #Massimo and Laura #michele morrone #anna maria sieklucka #Blanka Lipinska #365 days fanfic #365 dni fanfic

[artistic-writer]

Sparking the Pavement :: CS Moto GP AU :: Chapter 6

Title: Sparking the Pavement by @artistic-writer Rating: E Summary: Killian Jones has everything he has ever dreamed of.  He likes fast bikes and even faster women, that is until almost losing his brother makes him rethink his life choices.  And then a chance encounter with a blonde bombshell on the race track gives him the chance to change and find love, but as usual, team politics get in the way and for the first time in his life, Killian can’t just get what he wants.  Moto GP racing AU.

AO3 - FF - Ko-Fi

A/N: I FOUND MY TAG LIST!  But please let me know if you want to be added/removed as its a little out of date.

So, here is ch 6 (or ch 7 if you are on ao3) and i can’t thank you guys enough for sticking with this story.  Even if i cannot reply, i read each and every tag, comment and smile when i get kudos.  It’s been a time for this update, and I am so sorry for the delay.  You know, life stuff.  Prepare your emotions because this one is a rollercoaster - my lovely beta @hollyethecurious​ refers to it as ‘the big reveal’ - Enjoy!

Taglist: @resident-of-storybrooke @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @hookedonapirate @winterbaby89 @courtorderedcake @initiala @cocohook38 @branlovesouat @teamhook @snidgetsafan @sherlockianwhovian @shireness-says @wingedlioness@therooksshiningknight @ilovemesomekillianjones @bmbbcs4evr @blowmiakisscolin @deathbycaptainswan @onceuponaprincessworld​ @chinawoodfan  @seriouslyhooked @snowbellewells @wordsmith-storyweaver @jennjenn615 @delightfully-difficult-pirate @doodlelolly0910 @tiganasummertree @hookedmom @thejollyroger-writer @rachie1940 @unworried-corsair @cs-forlife @notoriouscs @killian-whump @darkcolinodonorgasm @mariakov81 @strangestarlighttree @shardminds​ @thisonesatellite

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Racing was fun until it wasn’t. Turning his greatest ability into his career had seen Killian well enough, but at what cost? His father was gone. His brother was gone. Racing had taken everything and everyone he had ever loved away from him, but he held no regret or resentment, because whilst he had sacrificed so much, he had also gained. Wisdom from riders much older than he was, always willing to offer guidance and support to the next generation. Experience from every country he had visited on the world circuit, each culture different from the next and offering him knowledge beyond his wildest childhood dreams.

And Emma.

Emma had turned up, out of nowhere like an angel. She knew the game, she knew the consequences, and somehow, she had known him. From their first touch, she had beguiled him and made a prisoner of his heart. Killian wasn’t sure if he believed in love at first sight before, but he was most certainly under the assumption that he did now. One night had shown him compassion, that there could be light at the end of the tunnel of darkness his life had become, and before the evening was over, he had been sure his heart could be healed.

It sounded cliché; that a man could fall in love with a woman simply by looking at her, but that’s how he felt. Emma was warmth, a wholesome goddess of a woman who had soothed his aching heart simply by scaling the barriers around it. Admittedly, they hadn’t been that high before, but after losing Liam, Killian was sure they would stop him from ever finding love. In a way, he was certain that he didn’t even deserve it.

“Why are you awake?” Emma whispered into his ear. She was tucked up behind him, arm slung heavily over his abdomen where her thumb busily stroked through the hairs on his stomach.

“I’m not, love,” Killian lied groggily.

Emma feigned her surprise with an audible gasp. “Who said that?”

As Killian laughed, Emma tightened her grip and pressed her smile to his shoulder blade, her plump, warm lips kissing him and making him shudder. She had felt the moment he’d woken up, his breathing changing to shorter, shallower breaths as opposed to the long, deep, light snoring she had been listening to. She’d waited, listening to the hitch in his throat that clearly indicated another bad dream, and when he hadn’t settled, she’d decided to let him know she was awake too.

“Why are you awake, love?” Killian asked softly, pulling her arm until she was flush against his back. He loosened his grip and dragged his fingers over her forearm creating invisible patterns on her skin before arching his neck to press his lips to the inside of her wrist. “You have a big day tomorrow,” he mumbled against her skin.

“You’re right, I do,” Emma agreed with a groan as she moved to roll away from him. He was reluctant to let her go, grunting a little when he felt her arm slip from his grasp. “But I can’t sleep.”

“Oh?” Killian was intrigued now and a little worried, so he rolled himself over so that they were facing each other, their faces nose to nose on opposite pillows. “Are you scared?” He teased, knowing full well she was just the opposite, something she agreed with by giving him an audible scoff.

“Maybe a little,” she relented quietly in the darkness.

“Hey,” Killian soothed, shuffling even closer to her and brushing the hair from her brow. He tucked it down behind her ear, enjoying the warmth of her skin on his fingertips and the feel of her ear lifting as she smiled. “You’re going to do great, you’re going to be the best, and everyone else is going to be so jealous of your ability to be better than them.”

Emma snorted a small giggle. “You don’t even know what my new job is,” she told him in a soft voice, her hand combing through the soft hairs on his chest that had now come within reach of her hungry fingers.

“Doesn’t matter,” Killian said confidently, his sex messed hair rubbing the pillowcase as he shook his head. “If you can do whatever it is half as well as you ride a bike, you need not worry.”

Emma was silent, her eyebrows moving in thought as she contemplated his words. Killian was right. She knew what she was doing, even if she and Killian hadn’t discussed the particulars of it in between all of their other, more enjoyable activities. The track was a big place, with a lot of moving parts, so he would at least know that they worked for the same company, and she figured that was all he needed to know in order to open his heart to her so readily. It wouldn’t be her dream job, but she’d never ride again. Neal had seen to that a long time ago, but Emma would be damned if she was going to let that cretin ruin her life now. Especially since the man who was currently bundling her up in his arms and pulling her atop his prone form would have something to say about it if he did.

“Sleep,” Killian ordered gently, rearranging the comforter so that neither of them would get too hot in the position they were in now. Emma stretched out over his body like a cat, a welcome weight covering his entire body and her legs tangling with his when he placed his hand over her spine to hold her in place. Killian pressed his lips to her forehead, letting his lips linger on her skin and inhaling her musky scent. “It won’t be long before you’re going to need to shower.”

Emma smirked, her lips brushing the super soft hairs on his chest where her head lay. “You’re going to need one too, hotshot,” she said coyly.

“Oh, I know,” Killian said smugly. “And I’m all about showering together to save the planet.”

“That’s good to know,” Emma added with a smirk. “I might sleep better knowing that every time I come around to hear you play the piano or to get fucked on your very expensive bike, which you owe me, by the way, I’ll be doing the planet a service by sharing a shower with you.”

Killian laughed and Emma’s whole body moved, rocking from side to side before he steadied her and encouraged her to tuck her head under his chin. Her hair caught on his stubble but she hardly noticed, the heat their naked bodies pressed together was generating too distracting.

“If I promise to fuck you on the ES1, will you promise to get some sleep?” Killian barely had the words out of his mouth before he was yawning, fingers lightly clawing over the skin near the base of her spine as he rode out the shiver that came along with it.

“I’d do anything for that,” Emma chuckled before opening her mouth wide for a yawn of her own.

“Good.” He kissed the top of her head as her yawn overtook her. “Now you’ll have something to look forward to.”

Killian wrapped both arms around her as she laughed out the last of her yawn, holding her more tightly than he had all evening, never wanting to let her go. He knew the morning would be bittersweet when Emma had to leave, but they had already decided that they would see each other again. Killian just hoped that his heart wouldn’t miss her too much, and that his nightmares wouldn’t crawl their way back in without her there.

--

If Emma thought the night before would make it hard to forget about Killian Jones in a hurry, she hadn’t anticipated the next morning. She’d never been awoken by someone so eager to please her before. Killian had made sure she woke up slowly, gently caressing her body until it had responded before her brain, the soft smile of sexual excitement plastered across her face. His hands were hot but soothing, like the heat of the sun in winter, and he had worked her body into a frenzy with just his touch. By the time Emma had opened her eyes, she was achingly wet for him and he had obliged her whimper of discontent, hooked her thigh over his hips and slipped into her sodden folds just like he belonged.

The shower wasn’t bad either. She’d definitely be up for saving the planet again.

As hard as he had made it to leave, Emma wasn’t about to miss the first day of her new job. Honda was a big name, not only in the racing world, but all over the world, and Emma wasn’t about to ruin her chances at making the best impression she could by turning up late. If she thought the team name was a big hitter, she had no idea how expansive the Honda Team Headquarters site actually was. Vast didn’t even begin to describe the place that seemed to go on for miles and miles when Emma stepped out of her car, the sun in her eyes as it rose above the building in front of her.

Emma slipped the sunglasses she was wearing off her head and gave her hair a shake until it fell back into place. Propping them on her nose so that she could look into the light a bit easier, she tilted her head back, taking in the building in front of her. It was much larger than any team building she had seen before and just like every site so large, it was bustling with activity. Some people she recognized because she had met them before, most of them rubbing shoulders with her father or his company at one function or another, but by the way they hurried across the staff parking lot, she was assured they had no idea who she was.

Emma preferred it that way. Neal had sabotaged her career, but where one door closed, another soon opened and Emma was going to make sure this one stayed open for as long as possible. Emma Swan was a thing of the past, just another name on a long list of riders who never made it to the top, but Emma Nolan (surname check) was a force to be reckoned with. She had worked too hard for anyone to take it away now.

A young man Emma recognized held the door for her as she finally stepped inside the building. He was tall, a little lanky but with a boyish smile that had every woman in his path blushing. Will Scarlet was a damn good rider, maybe a little hot headed, but he got results and the team earned a lot of money in constructors titles because of him and Killian Jones. As she passed him, Emma gave him a small smile and felt his eyes lingering on her a little longer than entirely necessary.

"Thanks," Emma said quickly as she stepped into the lobby on team headquarters and the rest of her sentence was taken from her by the equally imposing inner sections of the building.

"You're welcome, love," Will offered earnestly. Emma smiled wider but only at the familiarity of his term of endearment. She took a second to wonder if he had picked it up from Killian or the other way round. "It looks scary in here, but it's really not," he assured her.

"Easy for you to say," Emma breathed, pulling her sunglasses off and finally seeing the whole lobby without a brownish tint.

"I threw up on my first day," Will told her, removing his pitch-black sunglasses and resting them on the peak of his team-branded cap.

"How do you know it's my first day?" Emma cocked an eyebrow at him and folded her arms over her chest. If he was flirting she would have to give him credit for trying, but would definitely mark him down for his lingering gaze.

"Other than the obvious, you look lost." Will flashed her a toothy grin but was met with an annoyed huff. "Alright, lass, let's see," he began, hand on his chin where his thumb and forefinger toyed with what minimal growth he had there. "Your shirt is new, but you haven't had time to iron out the fold lines yet. You don't have your name badge yet, because they give you that during orientation, so you haven't seen Robin yet, and your hands are tainted with a little bit of black, which means you have worked on a bike recently, maybe a car, but not here, because we have this crazy 'gloves only' approach to maintenance that you don't know about yet, because-"

"It's my first day," Emma finished, impressed with Will's ability to simultaneously be a world-class rider and a detective.

"Exactly," Will said gleefully. "If you need to throw up, the bathrooms are just down that hall on the left," he added, pointing out the route he was describing. "Otherwise, I wish you a pleasant first day, miss?"

He held out his hand and Emma looked down at it with scepticism. He gave her a cheeky grin before retracting his hand and disguising his rejection by rearranging the peak of his cap, laughing a little to himself.

“Hey, can’t blame a guy for trying,” he said with a smirk. “I’m Will, by the way,” he added, genuine respect gracing his features.

Emma gave him a lopsided smile and was about to answer with a witty comeback when a man appeared at her side. He was a tiny bit taller than Will from what Emma could see but was dressed a lot smarter than either of them. His pristinely ironed team shirt was a bright white, his name, Robin, embroidered over the ‘HRC’ team logo on his left breast pocket. It was tucked into his equally perfect slacks which were fastened with a matte black belt and Emma noticed they were both wearing black steel toe capped boots, obviously for both their safety considering the nature of the work they did.

“Will Scarlet, leave this woman alone,” Robin said in an exasperated tone.

“It’s okay,” Emma said sweetly, turning to Robin and flashing him a smile. “Mr. Scarlet was helping me find my way, right, Will?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Will grinned.

“Yes, well, I don’t want to hear you were helping Miss Nolan here with anything other than directions, do I make myself clear?” Robin was hard faced as he stared Will down, making the man before him shrink a little. “You know the policy.”

“Yes, Mr. Locksley,” Will nodded in agreement and Emma gave him a sympathetic sideways glance.

“Now, If I’m not mistaken, you have somewhere to be.” It wasn’t a question, or order as such, but from his tone alone Emma knew that Robin Locksley was in charge, and meant business.

She knew his name. Everybody knew his name. Before becoming the team manager for the Honda Racing team, Robin Locksley had an impressive race background, including several championship titles throughout his career. He was older than Emma but probably not as old as her father, with a sun-weathered face that spoke to years on a hot tarmac race track, and made him look older than he really was. Just like her father, Locksley commanded respect, and Emma could tell by the way Will Scarlet scuttled off that Robin had it.

Emma couldn’t see by looking at him, but she knew Locksley had retired from racing after a particularly nasty accident that saw him high side his handlebars and land directly on his shoulder. Leathers were good at protecting most of the fleshy bits of the body, but under his own weight, at speed, Locksley had crushed the ball joint of his shoulder and torn a ton of ligaments to boot. An accident like that could only mean retirement, but not before months, if not years, of physical therapy and surgery after surgery. There were not many riders who would even attempt to race after that sort of life changing injury, and just like Emma, Locksley had pursued the closest thing to racing he could.

“Emma,” Locksley said with a warmer tone that he had used on Will. He sidestepped in front of her and extended his hand, his mouth ticking up at the corners into a thin lipped smile. “I’m Mr. Locksley, but you can call me Robin.”

“Nice to meet you, Robin,” Emma said with a smile, taking his hand and shaking it twice.

“Did Will bother you?” Robin pried, licking his lips and hardening his face back to boss mode.

“No,” Emma shook her head. “He really was just giving me directions.”

Robin raised his eyebrows in and made a sound of surprise in his throat. “Well, okay then, follow me.”

He set off, and moved quickly through the lobby of the headquarters, flashing a smile to the receptionist and anyone else who caught his eye. Emma hurried after him. He knew everyone or at least made it a point to say hello, and Emma knew she was already going to like him. Robin was in charge, there was no doubt about that, but it was also clear that everybody loved him.

“I’m afraid today is going to be very boring,” Robin called out behind him as he navigated the corridors of people. “A lot of admin, HR stuff, you know.”

“Of course,” Emma agreed, barely keeping up with him.

“I’ll take you on a tour, see the facilities we have here.” Robin stopped, turned and gave her a knowing smirk. “I know you’ve already made use of the track.”

Emma paled. “I hope that was okay, I didn’t mean-.”

“Of course!” Robin laughed, interrupting her. “As soon as you get a job with Honda, whether the boring bits are done or not, you are part of the family.” He smiled at her, beckoning her with a nudge of his head. “Come on, let’s get you to Ruby.”

Ruby Lucas was, perhaps, the most beautiful woman Emma had ever seen. She was tall, her mile-high legs as finely shaped as the blood-red lipstick covering her lips, and her dark coloured hair flashed with streaks of claret that made Emma wonder if Ruby was her given name or a more recent addition. There wasn’t a blemish on any part of her that Emma could see, and the way male colleagues were easily distracted by her mere presence gave her a cocky confidence that Emma recognised from every single person she had ever met in racing.

Emma wondered if Ruby Lucas had ever been any closer to a motorcycle race track than as the administration for the team. Certainly, she had the character for it. Motorcycle racing was one of the only sports in the world where men and women were considered equals on the race track, so Emma could think of no reason why Ruby wouldn’t have once been a racer at some point, but the slight limp in Ruby’s step spoke volumes as to why she now wasn’t. It was so subtle that most people would not have noticed, but Emma could tell by the timing of her steps as her heels clicked against the floor that Ruby had, at some point, fallen from the pinnacle of her own career, and just like Emma now, couldn’t venture too far from the sound of an engine.

“Miss Swan?” Ruby smiled, extending her arm and offering Emma her hand. Emma nodded and shook Ruby’s hand with a nervous smile. “Great,” Ruby grinned. “Welcome to the team.”

--

Killian walked into the garage with a smile for the first time since Liam had passed away. He had finally slept for longer than a few hours, miraculously, and it was all because of Emma. She had the ability to see inside of him, to reach the man who he was before and to help him break the surface of his sorrow, something he hadn’t thought possible. When Liam died, so had a part of Killian, and he never thought he would revive it, but he had. Emma had.

As he daydreamed his way across the smooth screed floor of the garage, the smell of gasoline and oil filled his nostrils, but it was tainted with a cleanliness that showed the importance of the team he worked for. A team mechanic wasn’t just some grease monkey with dirty hands, oil-stained clothes and a beer belly, but instead was a white gloved magic wielding maker of dreams. The bikes wouldn’t run without a mechanic, and the drivers worked closely with them, constantly tweaking and improving on an already very capable factory bike.

Everybody knew that a factory bike was there to be improved but the very best riders knew just how to squeeze every last drop of power out of the machine between their legs. It wasn’t about power; it was the combination of perfect timing and understanding how the bike worked that made riders win. Initiative played an important part too, and teams observed every race, ready to snap up the brightest minds at the end of the season. Killian and Will had made such a great team that they had declined every offer posed to them since signing with Honda, and as a result, they had an excellent working relationship with their mechanics.

Liam had been the head mechanic on their team, and the position had yet to be filled. Killian knew that the team had been holding off on hiring out of respect to him, and he appreciated it, but he knew they couldn’t halt it forever. Even if they hired internally, which they probably would, promoting one of the secondary mechanics, they would have to advertise it externally out of fairness, but Killian knew that there was no one as good as the team Liam had painstakingly compiled and trained himself.

Belle French was a second generation mechanic, having followed in the footsteps of her father to become a specialist in her own right. She had travelled the world with many teams before settling with the Jones-Scarlet duo she currently worked with. Her main charge was Will and it was her duty to make sure his bike was exactly how he needed it to be to perform to the best of his ability. She had answered only to Liam, as much as the cocky young rider she worked with liked to think otherwise, and both Killian and Will figured she would be first in line for the promotion since she had stepped up to be Killian’s mechanic too. In reality, Belle didn’t want the job, and neither did any of the other mechanics.

Killian knew the shoes Honda were expecting to fill were larger than anyone capable, but the season was about to pick back up again, so they needed to find someone quick.

“About time!” Will yelled across the garage as Killian approached. His voice echoed off the pristine white walls as he looked up from tinkering with one of his bikes and frowned. “You’re smiling,” Will said slowly with a narrowed stare. “Why are you smiling?”

“I’m happy,” Killian shrugged, the words leaving his mouth before he even realised it.

Will was taken aback and blinked in disbelief. “I’m sorry, mate, I didn’t quite hear you. Did you say you were happy?”

Killian stopped just short of his friend and inhaled, taking the longest breath and assessing his emotions. He wasn’t sure there was a word to describe how Emma made him feel, at least not one he was aware of, but what he was sure of was that he was happy and his grin couldn't hide it. “I did,” he affirmed with a nod.

Will blew out a breath not knowing how to respond to the shock of his team mate’s revelation. He was one of the only people he knew who had seen Killian at both his peak and at the lowest point in his life, so he would be lying if he said he wasn’t glad to see Killian happy. He didn’t need to know why his friend was happy; knowing that Killian was was enough for him. It would mean lots of things but most prominently it would mean that Killian would be ready to race, and ready to take on their biggest competition; Neal Cassidy.

“Well, I’m sorry to take the jam out of your doughnut,” Will began with a grunt of annoyance. “But Cassidy’s been shouting his mouth off to the media again.”

“What’s he saying now?” Killian sighed, his smile fading as he watched Will pull the white latex gloves off of his hands with a snapping sound before tossing them into a nearby trash can.

“Oh, you know, the usual,” Will shrugged. “He’s going to win this season, blah blah.” Will smirked when Killian met his gaze. “Apparently, this is going to be his year.”

“Oh,” Killian added, fake surprise lacing his words. “This year is the year, huh?”

“Yeah,” Will agreed but his smile quickly faded and he averted his gaze to the floor. Like a scolded child, he scuffed his immaculate boot across the pristine floor in front of him. “And,” he began, extending the syllable nervously.

“And?” Killian prompted.

“Nah, it doesn’t matter.” Will quickly decided with a shake of his head. “Did you see the new-”

“Wait,” Killian snapped, halting his friend with a wave of his hand. “Go back. What exactly did Cassidy say?”

Will’s cheeks were tinted with pink and he cleared his throat before he continued. “He was just showboating, playing to the journalists, you know what an utter bastard he is.”

Killian’s tongue darted out to moisten his lips and he reached up to rub at the patch of skin behind his ear a little more aggressively than normal. He knew Neal Cassidy was a cretin, the lowest of the low, a media hog who liked to shout his mouth off at every chance he could get. Killian knew Will was trying to protect him from something, and given the recent events in his life, and Cassidy’s proclivity for being an all around wanker, it wasn’t hard to determine Liam had been the subject of the media circus.

“Just let it go, mate,” Will said softly, interrupting Killian’s rage and easing it away with a comforting pat on the shoulder. “He’s not worth it anyway.”

Killian nodded in agreement, letting the tension out of him with a sigh. He wasn’t about to sink down to Cassidy’s level and bad mouth the man in the pits, putting both his career and the reputation of his team on the line. He had no need. Neal Cassidy did that quite well all by himself, and Killian would enjoy taking his ego down a peg or two by simply taking the title at the end of the season, but right now Killian wanted to just be. Easing back into the race season would undoubtedly be the most normal he had felt for a long time.

“So, what’re you working on?” Killian asked his teammate, half to break up the bubbling rage inside of him and half to distract himself from calling Cassidy and acting on it.

“Oh!” Will exclaimed excitedly. “So glad you asked.”

He spun around and made his way back towards the propped up motorbike with an excited skip in his step. Their bikes were the same, on the outside, and Will was eager to show off the skills of his mechanic, Belle. Will could prattle on for hours about the lass, and the way his face lit up as he told Killian about how she had tweaked this and that to shave seconds off his lap times, reminded him of the effect Emma had on him. She could talk about anything and Killian would listen with as much rapture as Will held for Belle, but there were of course, as Will had assured him multiple times, no feelings involved.

Yeah, alright.

Killian was lost to his little daydream about Emma and the way she looked when she had been asleep in his arms the night before. He could still feel the warmth of her skin on his palms, the way his long, lithe pianist fingers held her tight as she straddled his lap and took her pleasure, hair sticky with her feminine sweat he swore he could still smell every time he inhaled. And the way Emma tasted was insane. Her skin tasted like it smelled, a floral peony and vanilla musk that seemed to get even more concentrate the harder Killian worked her with his tongue. And boy had he worked her.

“Oi! Mate!” Will yelled through grease ingrained hands that cupped around his mouth. “Are you even listening?”

“Aye,” Killian offered slowly. “No,” he added and Will frowned at his antics. “Maybe?”

“Well, which is it?” Will prodded, folding his arms over his chest, one hand tucked under his armpit whilst the long and often broken fingers on his other gripped the bugle of his bicep.

Killian shifted his weight, rocking up onto the balls on his feet and one hand rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “Will, I need to talk to you about something,” he began. “And I want you to-”

“Oh shit, are you changing teams?” Will babbled, panicked.

Killian shook his head quickly. “No, wait, why would you think that?”

Will lifted his shoulders in an over exaggerated shrug. “I mean, Liam was our team mechanic, it stands to reason you would want to be shot of this place, a lingering reminder and all.”

There was a stillness after Will’s words that Killian couldn’t find the energy to interrupt. Every time someone mentioned his brother, or unwittingly reminded him that they would never work together again, just served to dig up the ghost of guilt he thought he had squashed down.

“I’m not changing teams,” Killian assured Will, who audibly sighed in relief. “I think I’m seeing someone.”

Will frowned. “You think?”

“Well,-” Killian began, extending out the syllable but Will interrupted him quicker than he had begun talking.

“Like, a woman or a hallucination?” Will was certain of his words, markedly concerned for his friend. Killian had been through enough for him to have encountered a mental breakdown, holding in rage and self depreciation over Liam’s death for a while now, and Will had no mockery behind his words, just simply worry.

“Wh-what’s wrong with you?” Killian retorted with a deadpan stare of actual concern for his teammate. “Do you wear your helmet too tight?”

“I’m just trying to get all the correct information,” Will scoffed.

“And why would I talk to you if I were seeing things?” Killian teased, a wry smirk playing his lips.

“Uh, because we are mates?” Will looked hurt and it boosted Killian’s mood a little bit when he realized he hadn’t yet been discovered in his ruse.

“Are we though?” He ribbed Will again, hoping the younger man would realise. “Was that a clause in the contract?” Killian teased with a snigger, the snorted laugh finally giving him away.

“Fuck you,” Will laughed, giving Killian’s shoulder a shove. When his friend laughed, a genuine belly rumbling cackle Will had missed, he smiled. “So, why do you think you are seeing this person?”

“What do you mean?” Killian asked dumbly.

“Well, you are or you aren’t, mate,” Will shrugged. “What does she think?”

"She's a keeper," Killian said, his boyish smile reminiscent of a love-struck teen telling all about his first love.

"That's brilliant, mate, really happy for you.” Will nodded at Killian who just gave him a small nod of thanks. “So, does she have a name or…"

Killian was about to speak when the rest of the team suddenly funnelled into the spacious garage, voices hushed as they whispered about the purpose of such a sudden meeting. Killian frowned and shot his teammate a questioning glance that was just replied with a lazy shrug that made him already not care what the interruption was regarding. Belle found them both and beckoned them closer with a crooked finger, both Killian and Will leaning far too close to her than was entirely necessary.

“The new mechanic is here,” Belle whispered.

“Have you met him yet?” Will asked eagerly.

“Not yet,” Belle admitted, shooting a glance between the two men. “Have you?”

“No,” Will shook his head. “Neither has Killian.”

Killian grunted in disgust, his mood instantly soured by Belle’s words. “I’m not exactly thrilled to get to know him either.” Belle and Will were silent. “I’ll do my job, and do as I’m told, but that’s it. I couldn’t give a flying fuck about the new guy.”

“Bit harsh, mate,” Will offered tentatively in defence of someone he had never met. “The guy will just be doing his job.”

“Aye, and as long as that’s all he does, we won’t have a problem.” Killian ground his jaw. “We all know what happens when we mix business and pleasure,” he began angrily. “People die.”

Will and Bell shared a glance. Their hearts broke for their friend, who was clearly still dealing with the emotions of losing his brother whilst having to return to work and watch a new team member try and push his way into their lives. Killian needed more time. He clearly still blamed himself for Liam’s death and both knew he would probably do so for a long time, and neither was sure the whole experience hadn’t changed him forever. It hadn’t been Killian’s fault Liam was his teammate, it’s just the cards they were dealt in the racing world, but the whole situation had soured Killian’s outlook on getting so close to another person at work if he didn’t have to. What was the point anyway? He’d probably change teams or retire before they could form any real friendship anyway, so best leave it at the door and keep their relationship strictly professional.

"Alright, listen up!" Robin's voice bellowed off the walls, and Killian cast a sideways glance towards their esteem leader whilst ignoring the way Will patted him on the shoulder comfortingly.

Apparently, the team had picked a new head mechanic after carefully sifting through application after application from all over the world. Who wouldn't want to work for one of the biggest race teams in the world? The room still vibrated with hushed what-ifs when the sound of Robin clapping shook everyone from their chatter. All eyes were on him in an instant and to demand even more respect, Robin stood with his arms folded over his chest, eyes darting between the last few stragglers who couldn't hold their tongue. Finally, with a deep breath, he continued.

"Now, some of you may be aware that Honda has hired a new head mechanic." He paused, gauging the room. "This means that some of you will be working with a new face."

Killian knew Robin's words were directed at him. Will had Belle, and before his death, he had Liam. They were the perfect team and Killian had no interest in forming any sort of bond with Liam’s replacement. The mechanic would be a work colleague, and that was it. No invites to barbecues, no socializing outside of the work, and most definitely no track day races. That was if this new mechanic even knew how to ride a bike. The sport had seen a surge in mechanics who knew everything there was to know about a superbike, except how to ride one, except on paper, and Killian didn’t trust these people one bit. How were they supposed to feel what the bike was trying to tell them?

A scoff disguised in a cough left his mouth and as Robin carried on with his introduction, Killian slipped off to the side behind Will and busied himself looking over the bike they had been previously looking at. It wasn’t nearly distracting enough though, his ears perking up as Robin spoke behind him, his fingers idly tracing over the handlebar grip throttle in an attempt to seem busy.

“I know this is not what some of you want,” Robin boomed across the crowd. Again, directed at Killian. “But this has to happen for the team if we are to have any chance of winning the Championship rider and team trophies this year.”

Killian cast a glance over his shoulder, locking eyes with Robin for a second to let him know he was listening but to also tell him not to expect too much from him. He would ride, as he always did, and he would most likely beat Cassidy to the Championship, again, but he was steadfast in the idea that he could do all of these things and maintain the minimum interactions required in line with the terms of his contract.

“So, without further ado, may I introduce to you your new Head of Mechanics and Engineering, Emma Nolan.”

The sound of applause filled the garage and Killian’s head snapped up just in time to see Emma - his Emma - walking through the white door to stand at Robin’s side. He couldn’t breathe. All of the air left his lungs and he forgot how to inhale again, his face turning the whitest shade as it drained of all blood, and he dropped the wrench he had been holding. It clattered to the floor at his feet but the sound was lost in the monotony of bravos. He was glad the clapping was so loud because it drowned out the sound of his heart shattering into a million pieces. Stood in front of the whole team, in front of him, was the woman who had promised him she would chase away his demons, hold him at night whilst he slept, and someone he had dreamed of starting a family with, but she wasn’t just his Emma anymore; She was Emma Nolan, Head of Mechanics and Engineering at Team Honda.

Scanning the crowd Emma caught Killian’s eye. He was way back in the rabble of people who had congregated in the garage space to meet her, but his face was completely ashen and so void of colour his lips were nearly blue. Her smile faded away as soon as she caught sight of him, the slight shake of his head and quiver in his bottom lip betrayed his emotions as he turned and walked out of the garage through a rear exit. Emma gulped, her heart sinking like a stone and the pit of her stomach exponentially deepening into a void that seemingly had no end. She felt sick but forced a smile back onto her face so that she could keep up the facade of happiness in front of the team.

In reality, she had been selfish enough to keep her new job role from Killian once she had got to know him and seen how fragile he actually was. She had never suffered a loss as he had before. Sure, her mother had passed away but it was expected, and even her uncle’s death hadn’t affected her as much as she thought it would. She had seen how losing someone so horrifically had broken her father, and her eyelids stung with tears because, without any malicious intention, she had given Killian Jones hope with one hand only to snatch it from his grasp with the other.

“Welcome aboard,” Robin said gleefully, grabbing Emma’s hand to shake and ripping her from her tumultuous musings. “You’re going to be perfect for this team, I can tell everyone loves you already,” he added with a grin before slipping his hand from her and patting her on the shoulder.

Emma simply nodded with a forced smile. “Not everyone,” she muttered to herself.

#sparking the pavement #stp #ch 6 #cs au #cs fic #cs fanfic #cs ff #moto gp au #killian jones #emma swan

[queencarolinemikaelson]

Rootless Tree II

Hello lovers, here is a short second part to a drabble I wrote for a fandom event I think in April! Hope you like! You can read part one on AO3, FF, or here! 

/

Fifteen Years Later

Klaus was in a bar. It wasn’t a particularly uncommon occurrence for him, but he usually wasn’t completely alone, as he was that day.

He finished work, some meaningless hours before, and joined a couple of colleagues for an after work drink.

When they left for their homes, he stayed; waiting at his home was more of the same melancholy loneliness that had been nipping at his insides for a few months now.

He wasn’t there to drown his sorrows, by any means; he wasn’t particularly sorrowful for anything. Nor had he been having a rough trot of it. But the fact of the matter was he was staring down the barrel of thirty-five, and he wasn’t all together too sure what he had to show for it.

He had a family and group of friends who loved him – he was lucky. A well-paying, rewarding job – better than many around him. A house – check. With a mortgage – double check.

He had nearly all of the things a thirty-five-year-old should have, he supposed.

But Klaus was not a naïve man. He knew for all his bluster over the years about singlehood, he did want someone to share his life with.

His baby sister was to be married in a few months, and then it would be just him and his 21-year-old brother who were unmarried. Even Kol was tied by the ring finger to someone, and he barely stood still long enough to brush his teeth.

And it was fine, of course it was fine, but on that day, in that moment, Klaus knew he wanted something more.

Something real.

As he called for another drink, a smattering of applause broke his concentration on his own plight.

About an hour before, a folk singer and her guitar had become the soundtrack to Klaus’ musings. She really did have a beautiful voice, and the few lyrics he tuned in to hear were quite meaningful. Though he couldn’t see her, closeted away in a dark booth as he was.

She began speaking softly to the audience after the clapping was silent again.

“This will be my last song…” she said, a little nervously. “It was written by a truly incredible songwriter, and I strive daily to craft stories, and weave emotions the way he does.”

Klaus took a sip, and decided to tune in fully for the final song.

“I’ve been really feeling this lately,” she continued. “A lot has been happening in my life, and this song… really grounds me. Maybe because I heard it for the first time when I was still very young. Maybe because it has the kind of energy I want to convey. Maybe just because it expresses how I’m feeling. Anyway… here it is.”

The woman began to pluck her guitar strings in an effortless rhythm, and familiar notes washed into Klaus’ ears, and he could hardly believe it.

What I want from you, is empty your head

He grabbed his beer and left his booth.

But they say, be true, don’t stain your bed

He settled on a stool by the bar, and had a clear line of vision to the source of the voice.

And we do what we need to be free

And it leans on me, like a rootless tree

Klaus watched saw the light crease in the woman’s forehead as she sang through the words, and he could tell she deeply connected with what she was singing.

What I want from us, is empty our minds

He watched her fingers pick furiously, though noted how her eyes remained firmly closed the whole time. He wondered just how many times she played that song, to be so comfortable with it that she didn’t need to ever look at what she was doing.

But we fake, we fuss and fracture the times

Her voice was truly remarkable, Klaus thought, and he wished he paid more attention to her earlier in her set. 

We go blind when we needed to see

And this leans on me like a rootless

She shook her head from side to side as she played, causing her bob-length blonde hair dance around her face in such and enchanting way.

Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, and all we’ve been through

The harsh words falling from her lips didn’t seem as wrong as he thought they might, for once again, he was struck with the emotion she was weaving into the song.

I said leave it, leave it, leave it, it’s nothing to you

He gazed on her face, still transfixed by the small crease in her brow that he noticed earlier. It signalled to him that she felt the song in the same way he did.

And if you hate me, hate me, hate me, hate me so good

It was almost liberating to know someone understood it. Someone knew what he felt so many times.

That you just let me out, let me out, let me out it’s hell what you’re around

Klaus listened in a trance for the remainder of the song, and couldn’t help but stand to applaud her when she finished.

“Thanks for coming, have a good night now,” she said, almost abashed into the microphone, before leaving the stage.

Klaus sat back down, feeling strangely empty.

He had gone to the bar that day to feel connected to something, and he found that connection. For it to be so fleeting, and for it to be now over…

He turned his back on the now empty stool where she once sat, opting instead of stare into his beer despondently.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting that way when he heard a soft voice order a glass of wine next to him. The voice was familiar enough for Klaus to glace up.

It was her.

He gave her a smile, one which she returned almost slyly.

He was a little taken aback, she had seemed far too demure to slyly smile at him.

“Well, fancy seeing you here,” she said, and Klaus was suddenly awash with dread. Was he supposed to know her?

“I don’t know love, I’d say the same about you,” he said, cockily, hoping if he blustered through confidently enough he could give himself time to place her face. It was familiar, now he saw her up close he could see that, but didn’t know why.

She let out a tinkling laugh in response to his comment.

“You have no idea who I am, do you?” she giggled, her whole face alight.

“Is it that obviously,” he replied, grinning sheepishly.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, I think the last time we spoke I was like eleven, you played me Rootless Tree in your 1970-something Corvette!”

“Caroline?” he asked.

She nodded kindly, and took her place on the stool next to him.

“Has it honestly been fifteen years since I spoke to you?” Klaus said, bemused.

“Pretty much,” she replied.

“Time really does have a way of getting away from us all, doesn’t it?”

He tried to say it without the wistfulness he felt, but didn’t quite manage it.

“It sure does,” she replied, and Klaus was comforted to hear she too sounded wistful.

They both sat in silence for a few minutes, taking sips from their drinks, lost in their own thoughts.

“What have you been doing with yourself these past fifteen years, Mr Mikaelson?” she asked, pulling his mind away from more sombre things.

From there, the two of them began chatting away, as though they were old friends. Which really was at odds with what they really were – which was barely more than a much older brother who met his much younger sister’s friend once over a decade ago.

He shared everything from why he chose to go to law school in London, to his favourite breakfast cereal, all the way to the existential dread he had been dealing with over the past few months. She in turn told him about her career, her music, her fears of the future and everything in between.

Klaus had forgotten that, yes, it could just be instantly easy with someone. That someone could actually fully capture his attention.

He wasn’t sure what he would do when she inevitably had to go. No matter how much it felt like there was no world beyond them, the hours had marched on. How could he go back to a world where he wouldn’t see her.

“So will I see you at Bekah’s wedding?” he asked, hopefully.

Maybe she would be there, and they would dance. He could hold her, whisper into her ear, and everything would feel alright, just like it did now.

But, Caroline stiffened, her contentment dissipating, causing his heart to sink.

“I’ve been invited,” she said, simply.

Klaus turned his body so he could study her face. It was truly beautiful, but had well-covered sadness suddenly pinching at the corners of the mouth.

“Will you attend?” he probed.

She looked down into the depths her wine glass, taking a moment to answer.

“Bekah and I aren’t really as close anymore,” she said, carefully, still maintaining eye-contact with her wine glass. “I haven’t spoken to her much in the last few years.”

“Oh, really,” Klaus said. “I wasn’t aware.”

He supposed he had lived away from his family for a very long time, and of course people changed. But it stung somewhat that things couldn’t be easy, just this once.

“The two of you always seemed so close, and she and Stefan still talk about your college days often… I just assumed.”

Klaus caught an infinitesimal flinch on Caroline’s face as he mentioned Stefan, and suddenly wondered whether it was less of a losing touch between two friends, and more of a rift.

“Oh you know, life happens,” she replied, vaguely. “I feel as though I’m a bit of an obligation-invite. So I guess we’ll see how I feel on the date of RSVP.”

Caroline let out a tinkling laugh, and downed the rest of her wine, making a move to stand up.

“I better get going anyway,” she said, and it was Klaus’ turn to flinch, as he wished he never mentioned Rebekah, and that their moments together could continue. “Early morning.”

“Same here, love,” he replied, disappointment niggling at his insides.

She placed her hand on his arm and gave it a little squeeze.

“It was really nice to see you, Klaus,” she said earnestly. “You gave me such an important gift back then. My music can be linked so strongly back to that car ride with you. And I think my life would look a whole lot different without it. Bye for now.”

He smiled at her, the kind of genuine smile he didn’t know whether he still had.

Their eyes locked, and for the most fleeting of moments, Klaus’ heart filled and his mind flashed through the life he could have with Caroline if things had been different, if she wasn’t his little sister’s friend, if he didn’t feel like his best years were gone, if they could be in the same place at the same time. 

“I hope to see you around, Caroline.” 

/

This is the song Caroline is singing. Listen, and love Damien Rice.

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #cheesecake's chook scratchings

[lifeinahole27]

CS ff: “Walking the Tightrope” (Chapter 7/10) (au)

Summary: Killian’s daily routines are a matter of habit. When he wakes up late one morning, his routines all change for the better. Emma doesn’t care about routines, but she does care about Killian, no matter how reluctant she is to admit it to herself.

Rating: E (the content warnings matter this time!)

Content Warnings: Very start of the chapter has mentions of child abuse. Also, a special disclaimer that my knowledge on children’s services and foster custody are very limited. I cobbled together the best I could from Google searches and reading up. And by my estimates, if I hadn’t had a mental collapse two weeks ago, y’all would’ve still been waiting a couple more weeks for the end of this chapter. This fic finally earns its “E”!

A Special Thank You: My continued gratitude to my lovely friends, @captainstudmuffin and @phiralovesloki. And a heap of love to @captainswanbigbang for putting this together and helping me accomplish this.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | 

Find it on Ao3 & FFN!

-x-

Chapter 7: Signs from the Universe

November 16: Friday

Their second date goes even better than the first, with Killian showing off not only the beautiful apartment he scored when he moved (with every room decorated in such a fashion that Emma is almost jealous of the simple and elegant taste he has), but also his cooking skills which are pretty damn impressive if Emma is being honest. 

It probably would’ve gone even better if they hadn’t been disturbed in the middle of their movie. They’d settled into a comfortable spot on his couch, with her cuddled into his side and his hand teasing the skin behind her knee, slowly igniting a fire within her that wanted to burst free. But no, she had to go help with a drunk and disorderly call because the miner they call Grumpy will only listen to her after a certain amount of drinks for some reason. It’s why David has nicknamed her a magical savior when they have to go down this path. 

And now it’s been six days since his breath had stuttered out when her fingers teased the hair on the nape of his neck. Six days since he’d turned to face her in the low light of the room and kissed her in a way that made her feel utterly cherished and also so aroused she could hardly stand it. She’d just been about to act on all of it when her phone rang and she audibly groaned at the absurdity of the timing. 

Needless to say, it’s been a long six days. 

When Friday finally rolls around, Emma is pretty sure she’s going to walk into his office and climb him like a tree if he’s up for it, but when she gets there, Killian is something about ten degrees past distraught.

Pacing the small space end-to-end, his hair is practically standing straight up and he looks like he’s about to explode as he speaks quickly into the phone pressed against his ear.

“His schedule said that he should’ve been on the second or third bus this morning and he would’ve arrived by now had he taken either of them. I haven’t heard from him, his foster parents have called me six times, and we’re all freaking out just a little bit.”

He looks up, his whole body deflating in defeat when he gets the response from whoever is on the other line. 

“Well, can you call the bus station this time? See if they’ll give you any information?” Killian mouths the word “David” when she catches his eye again. “Thanks, mate. Emma just walked in. Call me if you hear something?”

When he hangs up the phone, he drops into his chair and presses his hand and brace (the attachment for his prosthetic is nowhere to be seen) to his face. 

“Hey hey hey, what’s up?” She takes quick strides around his desk to pry his arms away from his face and works on smoothing out his hair as he looks up at her.

“Henry hasn’t shown up. He’s either been taken or he’s run away.”

A lump of fear settles in her stomach. The likelihood that a foster kid ran away is pretty high; she knows the statistics. Shit.

“I have to go. Robin and I are going to check in some of his favorite places and see if he’s here and just not coming to us. I’m sorry to skip our lunch.”

“No apologies needed,” she says, her fingers absently playing with a chain she’s just started noticing he wears under his shirt. “I’ll help any way I can. But I have to go back to the station and get the Bug.”

“Call me if anything comes up?”

She hums her agreement, leaning up to kiss him again before she heads back out of his office and nearly jogs back to her car. 

Driving around town goes quick. She’s not sure the routes that Killian and Robin are taking, and where David is in all of this, but end-to-end she keeps driving for an hour before she finally parks near the public beach access and sets out on foot. 

There’s no one out here, not on a cold November day that’s threatening snow like this one is, but it’s when the terrain changes again that she catches a weird track. It looks like suitcase marks, but that would be ridiculous in most circumstances. Then she thinks back to her conversations with Killian and the suitcase Henry owns from his previous foster family that he would never leave behind. 

She’s not even all the way to the destination she knows she’ll find him when she texts Killian the location, letting him know that Henry is, in fact, safe when she gets visual confirmation. Physically safe, of course. Mentally? She’s about to find out.

Approaching slowly, Emma leans down to get into Henry’s line of vision and smiles reassuringly. She can’t really see him with the way his hood is up and he’s trying his best to curl in on himself.

“Hey, kid.”

“Emma? What are you doing here?”

“Well, you have a lot of people really freaked out right now. I’ve been out looking for you.”

“Is CPS here?”

“No, no one like that. But your foster parents are on their way and Robin and Killian are out looking for you. Are you okay?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Promise you won’t get mad?”

“Is it something you’ve done?”

“No.”

“Then I’m not going to get mad. And even if it was, I would hear you out and really listen before doing anything like getting upset.”

Henry takes a deep breath, and rather than ask anything at all, he finally lifts his head to look at her. With the way he’d been sitting, there had been a shadow over half his face, but now she sees it wasn’t really a shadow at all. Blooming around his eye, the bruise is going to be quite the shiner. 

“Who did it?”

“Mr. Carter.”

“What happened?”

“I asked if we could go out and buy a new suit for the party next month. I’ve been saving up every bit I can for the transportation up here so I don’t have to make the Carters pay for me. But I haven’t had the chance to do any dog-sitting jobs with the edits and my cash is running low. I told him I would pay him back.”

Emma finishes her approach to the playground, hoisting herself up to sit beside him. 

“Would you like a hug?” 

He doesn’t say anything, just nods and tips over when she puts her arm around him, holding him close as he silently falls apart. 

Distantly, she can hear someone approaching, knows that the text notification she’s getting in her pocket is probably Killian trying to get to them. 

“They’re going to take you out of that house.”

“I brought everything with me this time, just in case they did. Or even if they didn’t. Do you know where they’ll send me?”

“Well, we can talk to them and see if they’ll let you stay with me. I have a spare room in my loft. Or David and Snow have a guest room.”

“Do you really think they’d let me stay here?”

“I don’t know. But the least we can do is try.”

“Henry, you’re okay,” Killian says when he finally gets to them. She can see the second Henry looks up at him because Killian goes completely still, his expression flickering between concern, shock, and settling on a quiet rage.

“Did your foster father do that?”

“We’re going to try talking to his case worker and see if they’ll let Henry stay here with one of us,” Emma says. Henry nods at her words, seeming to fold in closer to her. 

“Of course. I don’t know if a couch will work but I’ll happily lend my home to this venture if necessary.”

“Call David? We’re going to want to get ahead of the Carters. We’ll need Archie and Dr. Whale to meet with us, too.”

Jumping straight into action, Killian pulls out his phone, contacting David and filling him in. Without even missing a beat, he helps Emma down when she starts to shift off the platform, holding out his hook to steady her as she lands on her feet.

“I’m handing you over to Emma now,” he tells David, listening for a beat before giving her his phone. 

“Hey,” she says quietly. She turns to watch as Killian helps Henry off the platform. As soon as he’s off the playground, Killian opens his arms in invitation, and Emma feels something in her chest constrict when she watches the way Henry leans into the hug. 

That was David to her, so long ago. It was David that found her in Florida, that picked her up, that helped put her back together. Struggling past the lump of emotion sitting in her throat, Emma turns away and talks to David about their next steps, only moving back towards them when she ends the call. Killian takes the suitcase that Henry had stashed beneath the playground and together they lead him back towards the parking lot.

Robin is waiting for them, looking just as relieved when the three of them appear from the beach access. He, too, goes through the stages of emotions when he catches sight of the bruise, and immediately he turns into some kind of hovering parent. While Henry and Killian climb into Robin’s SUV, Emma goes back to her own vehicle, taking a second after they drive away to take deep, even breaths. There’s a specific type of panic sitting against her breastbone and she wants to cry, to sob out all her frustrations. She only really cries when she’s angry nowadays, and fuck is she angry at this situation. 

From what Killian said, this kid had it all with the previous family. Had a life worth enjoying, only to get stuck with someone that would dare to hit him because he asked for money. She gives herself a shake, finally shifting the car into reverse and pulling away from the beach. 

It all gets a little more complicated than that when they get back into town. The foster parents show up, insults blazing the moment anyone even looks at them, and it’s clear they’re going to deny ever touching Henry in every way possible. 

“Henry is an upstanding teenager with no prior record of running away or violence of any kind. You’re telling me he went out and got in a fight the day he’s meeting with his book editor and then doesn’t bother showing up because he’s rebellious?”

The way David says it makes Emma proud.

There are long chats with CPS after that, with Emma offering her place but being turned down after she describes her home life and schedule. David goes to step up, but it’s Robin that speaks next. 

“We’d like to take Henry in, if that’s something he would be amenable to,” the other man says, gesturing to Henry first. “My fiance and I have plenty of room in our house. I have a son younger than Henry, so we’re definitely not new to parenting. And neither of us keep anything dangerous in the house. No guns, no medications beyond allergy nasal sprays, children’s medicine, and aspirin. We have a liquor cabinet that only has two keys that stay with us at all times. And our schedules are such that Regina or myself can be there when he gets home from school each day.”

“Is that something you’d like, Henry?” Killian asks.

“As long as you’re sure I’m not invading your space,” Henry starts to say, but all the Storybrooke adults in the room speak at once in a rush to reassure him that it’s no imposition. She watches the bashful smile form and he nods his head, accepting Robin’s handshake when he offers it. 

When they’re all wrapped up for the day, Killian lingers back with Emma just outside the station doors. 

“Do you have anything else to finish up with this?” 

“Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow. Plus, David has most of it already started thanks to the digital system. Mostly just dotting some i’s and crossing any t’s that need it.”

His hand tangles with one of hers, and he smoothly lifts it to drape it over his shoulder, stepping into her space a little more after he glances around and confirms they’re alone. 

“Would you like to come to my place? Drink some wine, order some pizza, maybe… stay the night if you’d like?”

“I would, but I’m not going to.” Confusion immediately replaces the sultry look he’d been aiming for. “I want you to go home and sleep. Between the edits and the anxiety over the party next month, and then everything that happened today… Like I said, I always saw you as a neat-stacks kind of guy. And today you were chaos. I have wanted nothing more than a quiet night in with you since last weekend, but you need to unwind and decompress without the use of sex or alcohol.”

He’s looking at her intently the whole time she speaks, a smile starting to pull up at his lips as she continues. Finally, when she’s done speaking, he takes a moment before closing the distance between them and kissing her hard enough that it almost changes her mind. Almost. 

“This is why I like you. You know exactly what to say, how to say it, and when to say it. Would you at least do the honors and drive me home, please?”

“Absolutely,” she confirms, a matching grin on her own face. They move out of the station and towards Emma’s car until Killian stops her short just a few feet away from the Bug. 

“I’ve not had a chance to formally ask, but would you care to be my date to the party? I realize we’ve not been dating long, but I would love for you to accompany me.”

“I’d love to! And tell you what. Why don’t we do that whole pizza and wine adventure on Wednesday? We can decide later if it’s an adult-sleepover type thing or just another date, okay?”

“Aye, sounds perfect.” 

It doesn’t stop her from kissing the hell out of him when they pull up outside of his place, and Killian’s silly grin afterwards is worth the efforts it takes to let him get out of the car without doing it all over again. 

“Goodnight, Swan.”

“Goodnight,” she says back, watching him wearily walk up the path to his front door. She doesn’t drive away until he’s inside and the porch light is turned off.

-x- November 27: Wednesday

Killian Jones is having a shite day. Absolute shite. His computer crashes in the morning, leaving three days’ progress lost to the technological hell he finds himself in. He rubs his eyes when he thinks of the newest corrections he made to the novella, all of the progress lost. He thinks of the press releases he had finally finished drafting up, the wording absolutely perfect. He wishes for rum. Lots and lots of rum, and Emma Swan.

“Hey, you were supposed to - Killian? What’s wrong?” He looks up as one wish enters through the door and he idly wonders if she has rum stashed somewhere on her.

“I’m sorry, love,” he says, roughly rubbing his hand over his face again. “I’ve had a bit of a set-back. I should’ve called.” Especially after what happened last week, he should’ve called her as soon as he realized he was going to have that kind of day. 

After just a moment of lingering in the door, she moves to stand behind him at his desk, working her thumbs into the knots along his shoulders and the base of his neck. He wants to melt into his chair at her touch. His head drops forward and he sighs, letting his muscles relax for a moment.

“I’m beginning to think that bad luck is following you,” she says, her voice low in his ear. He can feel the shiver it causes all the way down his spine and it takes a few quick breathing exercises to stop his body from reacting to her overall attention. 

It’s been three weeks since their first date, and every date after has seemed cursed. There was the one interrupted by a phone call from David asking to help with some kind of public disturbance, and then they didn’t even get to have their date last Friday when Henry went missing. 

“I’m going to bring you some lunch,” she says, giving his shoulders one more squeeze before moving to sit on the edge of his desk.

“You really are a savior, Swan,” he says, grabbing her hand and kissing the back of it softly. The smile she gives him eases a little more of the tension in his body and he gratefully accepts the kiss she places on his lips. 

“I’ll be back in five,” she tells him before heading back out of his office.

By the time she returns, he’s at least recovered the corrections and marks on the novella, which makes his blood pressure return to something approaching normal. The press release seems to be gone entirely, though, so he knows the next few hours of work will be spent trying to recreate that. 

“I won’t distract you,” she says, placing a kiss on his cheek as she sets the bag down on his desk. “Call me later, okay?”

“I will. Thank you, Emma. For all of this,” he says sincerely, wishing their lunch break could’ve been spent together. Instead of a response, she kisses him again, smiling sweetly and wishing him luck before she slips out of his office. 

That’s how they usually do it - in the short time they’ve been together, he’s worked little routines into their daily lives. Emma doesn’t seem to mind one bit, following along with the well-worn steps they go through. And he’s also found that, in the last couple weeks, he isn’t holding as tightly to the strict schedule he used to keep himself on.

He sighs again and opens the bag of food Emma left him, breathing in the smells and resolving to eat before he throws himself into that blasted press release. 

It’s not the same when it’s finished, that much is obvious, but it’s close enough. When it’s clear that everyone else is leaving for the holiday weekend, Killian compulsively saves the file a few times before shutting everything down for the vacation. 

He calls Emma after he gets all his winter gear on, making sure his earbuds are attached and securely in his ears before he slides on his hat and dials her number.

They’d made plans last week - pizza, wine, a quiet night - and he confirms that they’re still on for said plans as he makes his way through the quiet streets of Storybrooke and back to his home. 

“I could’ve picked you up,” Emma says when she realizes what he’s doing, but he brushes it off and asks her what time he should be there.

WIth their plans finalized, he happily enters his apartment with a skip in his step. To be clear, he’s not expecting sex tonight. Does he want it? Yes. Does he think Emma wants it? There have been many clear indications that she does. So, while he doesn’t expect it, he plans for it just in case, making sure to be thorough with his shower.

When it’s just about time, Killian walks over to her place, letting the bracingly cool air calm the anxious pit in his stomach. It’s good anxiety, this time, but it’s still better to not have it at all. 

He beats the pizza delivery man by just a minute, hustling out of the way as Emma moves to answer the door she’d barely had time to shut. 

“Perfect timing,” she says out loud.

It’s the quiet night they’ve both been hoping for. No interruptions so far, no work distress lingering over their heads. Just the two of them, a pizza, and some time. 

The switch flips in an instant - one moment they’re sitting on her couch discussing how their days went and then she’s crawling into his lap, pushing him further into the cushions as they try to devour each other. This feels momentous; they finally get to learn about each other more intimately when they’ve spent so much time learning about each other. 

It’s clear they’ve both been holding back in the small snatches they’ve found to spend together between their dates. When Emma’s hips settle over his, he groans involuntarily. Being underneath her is one of the most exquisite tortures Killian has ever felt and he would give anything to stay right here, with her almost subconsciously rocking her hips against his as weeks of sexual tension finally come to the surface. 

The latent movements suddenly have purpose, the intent obvious when Emma leans back and Killian can see the heat in her eyes that sends tingles along his scalp and down his spine. 

His hand slides under her sweater, gliding along the smooth skin of her back. With an arch of his eyebrow he asks permission without words. When she nods, he deftly unhooks her bra and brushes his fingers up the rest of her spine. 

“Shit,” she whispers, a smile spreading instantly as she visibly shivers. 

Her hands are slowly rubbing down his chest, resting over his belt buckle, and he draws her back down to kiss her again as she slowly starts working the metal and leather apart. Her fingers are just dipping beneath the waistband of his jeans when the door to the loft swings open and someone comes flying through the door. 

“Sorry to barge in but Granny’s all out of holy fucking shit I’m so sorry!”

By voice alone he identifies the culprit as Ruby. 

“I’m just… gonna go find what I need in the kitchen and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Give me a minute and I’ll help you,” Emma finally says, giving him a regretful look as she eases back a little bit. 

“No really, I just need some brown sugar for the apples.” 

When Killian looks over his shoulder, the other woman is holding a hand over her eyes, almost blindly searching for the ingredient in Emma’s cabinets. 

“Hang on, Ruby,” Emma says again, trying not to laugh. “I’m sorry.” Her voice is soft, but she’s grinning. He cups her cheek in his hand, giving her a smile of his own. 

“This really was just a shite day,” he mumbles. “Though I much prefer this nuisance to the other ones my day has given me.” He makes sure she can hear the sincerity of his voice as he rubs his thumb across her cheek. “It’s getting late. I should go.”

“You don’t have to,” she says as she stands and holds out her hand to him.

“No, spend time with your friend. I’ll text you when I get home,” he insists, quickly fastening his buckle as discreetly as possible before he kisses her goodbye. It’s sweeter this time, but there’s still a hint of heat behind it and he’s tempted to throw caution to the wind and stay, but instead he bids her goodbye and accepts the kiss to his cheek she bestows upon him. 

When a moment has passed, one must accept it and move along. He knows a sign from the universe when he sees one. 

The walk home is sobering and lonely, much more subdued than the walk over. Killian has gone back and forth in his life on how patient he can be. There was a long time where he took without thinking of the consequences and hurt some people along the way. But with Emma, it all feels different. He feels like he’s waited a lifetime for her and knows he’d be willing to wait another one for something like physical intimacy when there’s so much more to who she is as a woman. 

It’s this thought that follows him through the door of his own dwelling and he leans against the wood for a moment. Alone in the quiet, he accepts the early bedtime he’s about to have, rubbing his hand over his face. He makes sure to text Emma that he got home before wandering through and flipping on the few lights he’ll need for the process of getting ready for bed. 

His text alert pings in his pocket as he’s shuffling to his room to change, and he smiles when he sees Emma’s name across the screen. 

“Ruby’s already apologized a million times since you left.”

He smiles at the message, knowing that Ruby’s apologies have probably been loud and likely detailed exactly what she thinks she was interrupting. Nevermind the fact that she’d be correct, but he’s sure Emma’s face has probably been a permanent shade of pink all through it. 

They text back and forth while he gets ready for bed, with the time creeping up on when he used to so dutifully go to sleep that he’s surprised he’s not really as tired as he’d expect with the day he had. He’s just checked the locks to make sure they’re secured for the evening and goes to turn out the living room light when he hears a knock. 

Killian takes a moment to stare at the door in question, because it’s almost eleven and he’s afraid there will be another unpleasant surprise waiting on the other side. Moving warily, he slides the deadbolt out and pulls open the door enough to see who’s on the porch. He takes in the sight of Emma standing there, in her pajamas under all her winter gear, with what looks to be an overnight bag slung over her shoulder.

He swings the door open wider with shock on his face, and Emma grins wide.

“Swan? Is everything all right, love?”

She walks in when he motions her inside and sets her bag on the floor by her feet while he locks everything back up. 

“Everything is fine,” she says, waiting until he’s back in front of her before she tugs him towards her by the collar of his t-shirt. She tastes like toothpaste when he kisses her and he finds the same heat that was simmering before is now boiling over.

When her fingers untangle the knots on his flannel bottoms, he thinks there’s something to be said about bad days having better endings. 

-x- 

After Killian leaves, Emma has every intention of listening to her friend’s food-based crisis and spending a hefty amount of time calming down her hormones. But then Ruby starts a string of apologies as soon as Emma turns to her and explains that she didn’t realize Emma wouldn’t be alone and she’s used her key about a million times before without a thought and…

She does listen to Ruby’s food-based crisis and helps with not just the apples, but an issue with the pumpkin pies as well. Ruby and Granny go serious business for Thanksgiving, after all, and Emma is happy to do her duty to make sure everything comes out perfect. 

When the door closes after her friend, Emma wanders to her room to get ready for bed. She changes into her favorite pajamas and heads to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face, all while texting Killian. It’s somewhere between doing her mouth rinse and walking back towards her bedroom that she makes a decision.

She’s in the Bug before she knows it, with a presumptuous overnight bag on the seat next to her. The entire drive leaves her jittery, and by the time she taps on his door, she’s almost sure he’ll be able to see her heart rate the moment he looks at her.

Instead, he’s more worried than anything else at first, and she doesn’t really blame him. When her fingers finally get the knots of his pajama bottoms undone, all previous tensions and fears either of them may have felt have evaporated. 

In the back of her mind, Emma knows that she has to be at David and Snow’s at a respectable hour, but she also knows that neither of them have to go to work tomorrow. This thought and all others vanish from her mind as Killian knocks her coat from her shoulders. She thinks her gloves are next to the bag that got left right in the entryway, but how much can she really care when she draws Killian’s shirt up over his ribs and helps him remove it? How can she focus on anything at all when this solid, handsome, wonderful man is looking at her like she’s a delectable treat he wants to devour whole? 

“See something you like, Swan?” The cocky grin she’s gotten used to over the time she’s known him is back on his lips, his hand and wrist shoved into the pockets of his sleepwear while he rocks back on his heels. The husky tone he uses sends heat between her thighs and she’s absolutely ready to explore this brand new territory.

“Maybe,” she offers back. She’s proud that her voice comes out low and seductive, instead of squeaky and unsure. His chuckle is low as he pushes off the wall. 

“I’m glad you’re appreciating the view,” he says as she pulls him against her.

“Maybe isn’t yes, Jones.”

“It isn’t no either,” he reminds her. She bites her cheek to stop from smiling, thinking of all the times they’ve said those words to each other already. At least this time she’s allowed to shut him up with her lips. 

She feels the thrum of tension just below his skin, can feel it in the way he kisses her back with desperation. She lets instinct take over, instead of thought. She doesn’t think about how tired she is from the day she’s had, or how tired Killian might be. Besides, he doesn’t seem tired right this moment from the way his hand is sliding under her shirt, drawing it up and over her head, his hand immediately finding her bare breasts. 

She gasps at the contact, steps out of her shoes and starts nudging him towards his bedroom. He shifts his attention from her lips to her neck, to the spot just behind her ear. She pauses their route to the bedroom to push him against the wall in the hallway and while his hand slips down to her lower back to hold her close, he hesitates for a second.

“Emma, are you sure?”

She doesn’t respond with words, instead choosing to step back and hook her thumbs into the waistband of the flannel bottoms she wore on the way over, sliding them down her hips and letting them fall to the floor. She watches as his eyes sweep down her whole body, sees the muscles of his jaw clench as he swallows and drags his eyes back up to meet hers.

He doesn’t move, and it takes everything in her power not to fidget in front of him with how intense his stare is. There’s something below the surface between them, something she isn’t willing to look at tonight in the quiet dark of his hallway, or even tomorrow in the light of day. It hasn’t been long enough, and she knows she’s not ready. 

Finally, he brings his hand up. He rests it lightly on her shoulder for a moment before softly running it all the way down until the back of his hand moves over her fingertips. He starts again at the top, this time brushing his fingers over her collarbone, sweeping down and just dusting across one breast and then the other, across each nipple, before he continues down. He places his wrist gently on her hip and urges her closer to where he’s still leaning.

“You’re stunning, Swan,” he whispers in the dark. She bites her bottom lip, running her hands all the way up his arms to rest on his shoulders. When he kisses her this time, it has more to do with tasting than rushing, so she sighs into it, into him, pressing against him. The feel of his bare chest against hers is sweet torture.

She pushes at the hem of the sweatpants now riding low on his hips, stepping back to take in the full picture just as he did. Emma discovers that she could stare at nearly-naked Killian all day if she didn’t have anywhere else to be. She’s surprised her glasses, askew as they are, aren’t fogging up at the sight.

They move in tandem this time, lips connecting, tasting, and nipping. He easily lifts her and she squeaks in surprise, her legs wrapping around his hips. 

“Fuck, Emma,” he grumbles, moving swiftly down the hall and settling her onto the bed.

“Exactly,” she whines, accepting the kiss he gives her as he chuckles, his tongue sliding against hers when she opens her mouth to him. When he pulls away again, she’s smiling at him, but the restraint is obvious in the lines around hers eyes.

“Patience, Emma.”

“I think we’ve shown more patience than either of us expected,” she says with a level look. “You locked the door right? None of your friends are going to barge in? Liam isn’t planning any quick visits to see you, right?”

When Killian moves away from her completely, laughing as he goes to the nightstand by his bed, Emma lets her arms fall above her head on the mattress. His bedroom is warm and cozy, and the heat of her skin from anticipation doesn’t hurt either. 

“Fair enough to assume they might, however, I even engaged the deadbolt and if anyone so much as rings the bell, I’ll knock them to the ground,” he tells her, pushing his boxers out of the way before he stands at the foot of the bed. “Now, a woman as beautiful as you demands my full and prompt attention.”

She pushes up to her elbows, obliging and lifting her hips when he taps one to slide her panties off. With those delegated to the floor, he finally crawls back onto the bed but stays near the bottom. She wants him inside of her, and almost tells him so, but the moment his fingers slide along her entrance as his tongue finds her clit, she decides to utilize the patience he just told her to have.

It’s totally worth it.

The man is gifted beyond reason, taking directions to what she likes with the same attention to details he gives everything else in his life. In past experiences, she’s not always been lucky enough to get foreplay like this, and so she’s surprised at how quickly he pulls her up, up, up and over the edge of climax. 

Giving her a minute to collect herself again, she looks down the length of her body and watches with pointed interest as Killian rolls a condom down his length. He catches her eye, shrugging and smirking at what they both recognize as a skill. Shifting again, he’s kneeling between her legs, the tip of his cock just pressing where she is so ready for him. 

Instead of waiting for him to ask, she grasps his hips and nods, pulling him until he’s filling her up. He rests his head between her breasts, hips already rocking just a bit, enough to amp them both up. She tugs him up to kiss him again, silently begging him to move. Finally, he does, pulling out and pushing back in just a little faster, causing her to gasp and break the kiss. He sets a pace that has her breathing harder, even more so when he nips the top of one breast.

“Bloody hell, Emma, you feel amazing,” his whispers hoarsely against the sensitive skin and it further ignites the fire that’s been building since he opened the door. She lifts her hips to meet his thrusts, hands clutching at his biceps where they’re braced on either side of her head. She breathes out a request for more and he complies, moving his hand as he quickens the pace.

He trails a path from the center of her chest, down her abdomen, ending right above where they’re joined so his fingers find and circle her clit in time to his rhythm. She fists the sheets with one hand, the other slipping between them to press against his as her climax rises and breaks, her back arching off the bed, her head pushing back into the space below his pillows and her eyes shut tight. 

She says his name in a sigh as she comes down and he kisses her greedily, his movements getting jerkier as he reaches his own peak. She pushes her hips up, accepting as he settles deep inside of her with a groan as his orgasm takes over and he drops his head to her shoulder. 

With choppy little movements, he comes back down and settles on top of her. Both of them are struggling to catch their breath, but a hazy smile is plastered on her face and she runs her fingers along his scalp while she waits for him to recover. 

It clearly takes some effort, but he shifts in order to drop into the spot beside her. 

“Worth the wait,” he tells her, rolling close to kiss her before he’s rising from the bed to get cleaned up. All she can do is hum in agreement as she stretches in lazy contentment. As he leaves the room, she opens her eyes and realizes nothing is in focus.

“Watch out for my glasses,” she calls after him. “I have no idea where they fell off but they’re definitely not on my face.” He makes a noise of acknowledgement, and Emma lets her body rest in the comfort of his bed for the short time he’s gone. It could be minutes, or it could be hours, all she knows is she could live this strung out on an orgasm every day for the rest of her life and not complain. 

“Found em!” he calls from the hallway on his way back in. He’s grinning when he enters the room, his own glasses perched on his face as he hands hers over. His arms are full of their discarded clothes and her overnight bag.

“I set out a washcloth in case you’d like to clean up at all,” he tells her as he drops everything on the edge of the bed. 

Heaving herself up, she moves to stand next to him, reaching up and pulling him down for a kiss. “Thanks.” She gives him one more kiss and then smiles, turning and helping him sort out their mess of clothing before she goes to the bathroom with her bag to get cleaned up.

She’s barely settled back in the bed with him before sleep overtakes her, claiming her fast after he wraps his arm around her waist and whispers her goodnight. 

-x- November 28: Thursday

When he awakens, it’s to the November sun trying its hardest to break through the clouds. Trying, but definitely not succeeding. Though the weather may be doing its best to soldier on into winter, none of that reaches the warmth and comfort of Killian’s bed, especially when Emma stretches beside him. 

“I’m not gonna lie,” she says as she burrows further under the covers. “If I didn’t have to stop at David and Snow’s and make an appearance at Granny’s later, I would be finding a way to convince you to stay in this bed all day.”

“It wouldn’t take any convincing at all, just for the record. What time is this dinner?”

“Five o’clock. Are you going?”

“And miss my opportunity to listen to you all gripe about how this American tradition is born on the genocide of the people that inhabited the land while still eating turkey and mashed potatoes? Of course I’ll be there,” he says, turning on his side and propping up on his wrist. He fixates for a moment on the way the blankets are leaving one of her shoulders slightly exposed, running his finger along the only bit of skin that’s visible.

“That sounds accurate,” she says, her voice going a little breathless when his hand slips below the blanket to follow the lines of her bicep. “And until then?”

“By my calculations, we can have a little bit of that aforementioned time in bed,” Killian says with nonchalance. 

Emma’s expression morphs into a happy grin and she scoots closer. “If you get me coffee first, there’s a lot of really great ways I can think to repay you.”

“Coffee it is,” he murmurs, pressing forward to kiss her before the moment slips away. 

-x-

Chapter 8

#cs ff #cs ff au #captain swan #csrt #sarah writes ff #captain swan ff

[ash-clarington]

WHO: Ash & Dani ( @daniharperdominant ) WHEN: after that one fight // end of December after the crash WHAT: separate paras in the vein of comfort.  WARNINGS: ??? why do I refuse to post things ffs

​OCTOBER; 

Ash hesitated before kneeling at Dani's door. It wasn't that, not tonight, but Ash was conflicted within herself as it was and she felt too out of control already to do anything but play it safe. She wasn't sure what Dani would have wanted and the last time she had gotten it wrong. The submissive knocked and crossed her arms, holding herself in. It'd been an eventful day.

Dani was still processing everything she'd heard about the fight, and wondering what on Earth might have possessed Ash to go after someone that way.  All she knew was that it wouldn't have happened without some serious provocation, and if Ash wanted to share more than that she could.  Hearing the knock, she opened the suite door to find Ash kneeling there. "Good girl.  Stand up and come in, please.  There is a fluffy pair of pajamas and a robe on my couch, if you'd like to go change before we get settled."

The pajamas were a nice offer but, Ash wouldn't be caught dead in them. She did however accept the robe with a nod and took herself into the bathroom to change and wash her face. She hadn't stopped back at her room, unsure if there was a possibility of running into Odette. Ash stripped down to her underclothes and ran cool water for a moment over bruised knuckles before washing up and pulling on the robe, cinching it at the waist. "Thank you for letting me come by, Miss." She said once she'd returned. "You weren't doing anything festive tonight?"

Dani watched as Ash took the robe and left the pajamas, and she folded them with a quiet smile to be put back in her closet later.  Anything that she offered was only to be accepted if Ash wanted it, and it didn't hurt her feelings either way.  As she busied herself in the washroom Dani grabbed a couple of waters and a small snack in case Ash hadn't eaten all day. "You're welcome, Ash - it's honestly my pleasure.  And no, no parties tonight - I always find it gets a little crazier than I'd like."

Ash sat and exhaled, forcing herself to relax. She liked spending time with Dani, or at least, it wasn't any work and the Dominant never really demanded much from her. "Do you want me to tell you what happened?" She asked, already knowing what Dani would say. Some part of her felt like she owed an explanation, to shake off the way it sounded. The question became rhetoric when Ash rolled her eyes at herself and began telling Dani anyway. "I have this box of things from what feels like... a past life and I was, I'd been wanting to..." Her brow furrowed and she started again. "Odette took a ring from me, I don't know why. I didn't... I didn't even ask." She said, the thought only just occurring to her. " Ever since she got here it's really always been something and today I just, lost it." Ash took a breath and wiped her cheeks, annoyed with another wave of tears after already washing her face.

Dani had found, since getting her mark, that being a good Dominant sometimes required the ability to simply be quiet.  Any idiot - as Lottie had proved - could bark out orders and pretend to be a Dominant.  It took the ability to actually listen to really be one.  So when Ash asked her question, Dani simply waited for her to choose - and choose she did, finally opening up. When the tears splashed her cheeks, Dani resisted the urge to reach for her.  Comfort, like anything else, was something Ash needed to decide if she wanted.  "I'm going to make a couple of assumptions," she said softly, "and you can tell me if I'm wrong.  I assume that this ring has sentimental value, as part of that past life.  I'm also going to assume that she never asked for your permission to touch her things."  Dani paused for a moment.  "I obviously shouldn't condone assault.  But I've had people try to take my things, and I won't lie and say I never fought them.  So I can't condemn what you did, Ash." Dani worried at her lip.  "If you're here for condemnation from me, you won't get it.  Because I won't."

Ash tipped her head, a crooked smile aimed in Dani's direction. "I'm not." She promised. She took a deep breath, drying once more at her cheeks, this time with the sleeve of the soft robe. "The Dean will be issuing a punishment and... I'm upset enough with myself, I don't need to convince anyone else to be." The exhaustion of the day and flip flop between emotions had Ash drained. On top of that she had grown comfortable with Dani. From the time they'd spent together in the Dominant's room to all the time they'd been sharing on the roof while Ash was escaping and avoiding her own room. It accumulated to the submissive's walls being down, and honesty came easy. Ash almost laughed. "After all that, i'm still just avoiding the box from the closet." She distracted herself playing with the end of the robe's tie. "I didn't want to go back to the room and I wasn't sure... where she'd be exactly. I never asked."

Dani nodded.  "That makes sense.  And I'm sure you've got this taken care of, but I'll say it anyway - if you need somewhere to go after your punishment, you know that my door's always open for you."  Aftercare, she hoped, would be provided by whoever was responsible for the punishment, but she still needed to be sure that Ash had a safe place to go - especially given what she said next about her room.  "That makes perfect sense - both parts.  You're welcome to stay here with me for as long as you need, and if you need someone to walk you back to your room to collect your things I'm here for that too."

Dani being openly warm with her was not helping her emotional state. It seemed every time she began pulling herself back together the Dominant tugged at a particular string just a bit and it made her eyes water again. Defiantly, Ash looked up at the ceiling and bit her lip, forbidding a single tear more to fall. "I appreciate that, Miss." She sighed and shifted, moving to lay her head in Dani's lap, dark curls spilling in all directions. "Are you like this with everyone?" Ash found herself asking out loud, a thought she had only just pondered as she'd gotten comfortable that made it past her lips unchecked.

There was no missing the way Ash's eyes watered, but Dani wasn't going to point it out or draw attention to it in any way.  "Of course, Ash.  It's my pleasure, and I want to know that you have somewhere safe to go.  Once the submissive's head was in her lap Dani's fingers began to work gently through her hair.  "I would like to think so," she replied softly.  "I try to treat everyone the way they deserve to be treated.  But I won't lie, I do enjoy spending time with you."

The words sent a shiver up Ash's spine in a chilling way, something she felt she should shake off but the submissive let them settle instead. She closed her eyes against the feeling of fingers through her hair and the weight of her exhaustion seemed to double the more she relaxed. "I'll need to be back to my room in the early morning to pack. Before curfew lifts." Ash said, allowing herself to be lulled. "New room assignment." She left out the part about how she should be there now, how she was meant to be ready to move first thing. "If you don't mind ordering me back tonight so, I don't have to wake you?"

"I'm very glad that they gave you a new room assignment.  You don't need to be in there with someone you can't trust to stay out of your personal effects."  The weight of Ash's head felt right in her lap, and she was content to stay there just as long as the submissive was comfortable with her.  "Of course I don't mind.  I'd be happy to give you orders as long as you're good to receive them from me."  She didn't toss around random orders, and had virtually never given anyone orders they weren't already expecting.

REASSURANCE; 

It took a while for Ash to find a position that was the least uncomfortable but she was glad to be out from under her sisters watch. More specifically she was glad to be in the Dominant’s space. Dani had a calm about her and the two of them had built up a quiet trust between them that Ash allowed herself to indulge in every now and then. The submissive shifted carefully again to bring herself a little closer to Dani, seeking more contact between them. Absently Ash toyed her fingers at the Domme’s wrist and up her arm. They’d been laying that way for about an hour and Ash was on the cusp of falling asleep but she was fighting it. Frustrated with sleeping the days away and stubbornly determined to keep her time with Dani. “No more beer on the roof.” She said, the thought coming to her mind slowly. Ash lifted her eyes to Dani’s then buried herself in deeper, ignoring the deep ache her movements caused. “What a shame.”

If she were pressed on the subject, Dani would have confessed to pride that Ash trusted her.  It wasn't a commodity that anyone gave out easily, and that seemed doubly true with Ash - which made Dani doubly proud to receive it.  Once they'd climbed into bed she stayed back just a little, letting the submissive try to find a position that wouldn't cause her any pain before gently sidling closer and laying an arm across her.  Once they'd settled they stayed close, just taking the quiet time to relax and giving Ash, hopefully, a place to recuperate a little where she wasn't being watched over by her sister.  The little touches brought a smile to Dani's face, and when Ash spoke up she nodded.  "It really is.  I enjoyed those nights a lot: I'm still okay doing them without beer, but it's up to you if it still feels worth it."

“I’ll still be frequenting for cigarettes.” She replied, agreeing without directly doing so. Even there tucked away against Dani, in her bed, Ash wouldn’t admit completely how much she enjoyed their time together. On the roof of course was different than the quiet close comfort the Domme was so good at providing and Ash had been craving it enough to not be concerned with how she was being perceived. The truth was the longer they lay together the farther Ash felt herself sink into her thoughts, calm and safe enough to think the week over a few times and it was making her chest tight and tongue taste metallic. The submissive took hold of the end of Dani’s shirt, looking for a way to ground herself. “It’d be worth it.”

"That works out well, then.  I'll be up there just enjoying the view and the company."  Dani kept her words casual, but they were still carefully chosen.  She wasn't pushing Ash into anything, and their rendezvous wouldn't be scheduled or the like; just something that happened when it happened.  When she felt the grip on her shirt, though, she moved one hand to rub slowly up and down Dani's side.  They didn't have to talk about it, but she was there to provide any comfort they could.  "I agree," she nodded.  "Definitely worth it."

"You're not upset?" Ash found herself asking, her eyes trained on Dani's collar bones peeking out from beneath her shirt collar long enough to give in to reaching up to touch them. Fingertips barely grazing over warm soft skin. "About the new rules." She clarified, not wanting Dani to get confused and think Ash had meant upset with her specifically. She wasn't prepared for more people to be disappointed in her, least of all Dani. She'd gotten enough from her siblings for getting herself into the situation, neglecting being responsible, whatever it was. Typically she didn't care for their opinion but something about it was bothering her. Not to mention the fact that she was very specifically told by her father not to come home for any holidays. As if she'd been planning to anyway. Ash took her hand away to tuck under her own face and she chanced a glance at the Domme's expression, searching for anything Dani might not say out loud.

Dani was silent for a moment, knowing her answer walked a thin like between honesty and risking upsetting Ash any further.  Her hand never slowed or stopped, though, still rubbing her side gently.  "Not upset, exactly.  I think it's unfortunate, and I also think it's a rule that's going to get a lot of people in trouble, because we're all adults and some people are going to want their alcohol that much.  But I understand what they're thinking, at least, even if I don't agree with basing a decision this big on a single incident."

Ash gave a slight wince when Dani touched on a particularly tender spot but she hid it by readjusting and allowing her hair to curtain over part of her face, not wanting her to stop. "Maybe it is only temporary." She tried, a thought she'd used for her own self soothing over the past few days. "I shouldn't have..." Ash paused, swallowing a sudden lump in her throat to ensure she could trust her voice from betraying the exterior she'd been attempting to maintain. "I shouldn't have gotten in the car. I really thought she'd--she usually has things under control." Ash turned away, carefully settling most of her weight into her hip so she could curl herself into the little spoon without hurting her healing ribs. "I wasn't thinking."

Dani adjusted herself just a little as Ash spooned into her, which gave her a chance to think over what she wanted to say.  "That's possible.  And I think it would be smarter for them to make it only temporary, but I don't know what they're thinking or what they've got in mind for the future.  We'll just have to see."  She immediately shook her head at what Ash had to say about the crash, however.  "It's not your fault.  None of this is.  You were out having a good time, and the minute she sat behind the wheel of the car she took responsibility for getting you home safely.  It infuriates me that she let you down, and that the only thing keeping," Dani swallowed some of her anger, keeping her voice in check.  "That the only thing keeping you from being gone today was you being smart enough to put your seatbelt on.  This was not your fault.  None of it."

Ash closed her eyes against Dani's words, trying to hear them. It didn't count because Ash expected it from Dani, she'd said the same thing when she'd had her outburst on campus. She may have gone there anticipating hearing it, or hoping. She exhaled slowly and relaxed into Dani further. Her exhaustion just from making the journey to the Dominant's room and the short walk she'd managed to sneak earlier in the day was catching up to her. More than she could keep successfully suppressing. Ash didn't bother to open her eyes again and though she nodded it was more in acknowledgment that she'd heard Dani, not that she entirely agreed. This time Ash knew the Domme was alone in that thought. Max may have been driving but it had been made very clear to her by the school and the people closest to her that she certainly played her part. "Thanks for letting me over, Miss."

There wasn't any mistaking the exhaustion in Ash's posture, or the way that she seemed to be sinking toward unconsciousness.  And that was just fine with Dani; if she could help the submissive get some proper rest, the kind that healed and felt safe and warm, then she wanted that.  "You're welcome, Ash.  You're welcome anytime."  Reaching out with the hand that wasn't under Ash, Dani turned off her bedside lamp.  The room wasn't completely dark, but it was dark enough for rest, and she laid her arm back over Ash's middle very gently.  Resting wasn't going to be made an order, but Dani did hope it would come.

#dani harper #f2f: dani harper #para

[rosaline-kei]

Don’t Go - Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Attack on Titan/Shingeki no Kyojin nor the characters.

Parts: 「1」「2」「3」

Chapter 2′s Title: Mikasa

Synopsis: Even after what was thought to be the end of the chaos, Mikasa Ackerman struggles with conflict, confusion and her emotions. The Raven plans to leave for the Kingdom of Hizuru—without a proper goodbye to Eren Jaeger. What is she running away from? What is she afraid of? Are apologies enough to heal? (Contains Manga Spoilers)

Prompt Summary (from a user): The reunion of Eren and Mikasa after Eren comes back from Grisha’s memories. Even though Eren’s head got blown away xD, I think that he will transform into his Titan Form. After reading the latest chapter I Think Eren will apologize to Mikasa for everything he did to her after the time-skip and will probably tell her not to join that Kiyomi and the Hizuru Kingdom. Thank you!!!

Eren wouldn’t let Mikasa leave for Hizuru because he knows that she loves him and that her love has nothing to do with her Ackermann genetics.

Takes Place after the war is finally settled. When Eren apologizes to Mikasa and Armin and ofc to all the members of the 104. Squad

I don’t think that Mikasa will accept his apology immediately since she is the Person that got hit the hardest by Eren’s deeds and especially his words in chapter 112

Rated: T

Read it also on / Leave a Review at:

Ao3 or FF net

Author’s Note: I hope this was okay haha. T-T, like I said, long time since I written something so I hope this isn't shit lmao. I hope I managed to convey Mikasa's conflict and confusion well. The next and last update, which is where the apology scene will occur, will most likely be posted in December (Hopefully, December 1st) since I still have things I want to touch up in part 3, which I feel is still missing stuff. I also really want to focus more on and finish the next chapter for my other two ongoing AOT/SNK fanfictions (Bloodlust and Love; which you can find on my ff net or ao3 account) since I hadn't update them for a while due to exams, and I really want to update them before November ends. ALTHOUGH, if Love and Bloodlust are done earlier than expected, part 3 (the last part) will come out earlier too soo, wohoo? Haha. 

“…How do you know I’ll be able to stop her…?” Eren mumbled out subconsciously. Undoubtedly, he did want to stop her. He… couldn’t bare the idea of her leaving, especially when he hadn’t had the chance to speak to her. But given the fact she had given the red scarf back to Eren, he wasn’t even sure if she wanted to see him, or if she’d even listen to him at this point.

Armin only scoffed, followed by a brief laugh. “Because you’re Eren Jaeger… you would never let someone you care about so deeply, leave for a reason like that.”

--

“Mikasa! Wait!” Armin called out as he ran after her. “You’re… You’re not serious about leaving are you?”

The meeting had just ended. Kiyomi Azumabito had sent them a letter. In the letter, Kiyomi wrote that she’d like to invite Mikasa to stay over at Hizuru—to which was where the money-eyed woman stated was her home, her rightful home.

But, Kiyomi didn’t state how long she wanted or planned for Mikasa to live there.

All the letter contained were those persuasive words and the time their ship would be at Paradis’s docks to escort Mikasa back to her homeland. And should Mikasa agree, she was to meet them at the docks, wearing a ruby necklace (that came along with the letter), which was a welcome gift.

The meeting was short, because Mikasa was the first to speak, and to conclude. “I will go.”

Truth be told, everyone was caught off guard by her response. “Mikasa Ackerman,” Commander Hanji said in a rather reassuring tone, “Nobody’s forcing you.”

Whatever Hanji had assumed was Mikasa’s reasoning for wanting to leave, was most likely wrong. But Mikasa didn’t seem like she was going to correct her anyway. “If you feel obligated to go because you want Paradis to remain on good terms with Hizuru, then—”

“It’s not that.” She had cut her off, “I… I just want to go back home.”

And just like that, the meeting ended. There was no stopping Mikasa, everyone knew that. Plus, this was her choice to make.

Armin watched Mikasa leave the meeting room, feeling a surge of worry running in his veins.

Because she didn’t state how long she planned to stay there either.

And that’s how he ended up chasing after her.

. . . . . .

“I’m serious. I already said I want to return home—my homeland. I want to see what it’s like.” Mikasa stated as she continued to walk. And despite her attempt at sounding convincing, Armin wasn’t easily fooled nor tricked by her lies.

“Are you sure you want to leave?” Armin frowned, “You haven’t even had the chance to have a proper conversation with Eren!”

Armin knew he was pushing it. He could tell from the way she suddenly froze in her steps that he himself had stepped into a dangerous, sensitive territory. Eren was a touchy subject for her, he knew. But someone had to say it—someone had to remind her what, or who, home actually was.

Silenced diffused into the air. The chilly air grew colder as a cool breeze blew by. Mikasa never knew she’d ever find herself hating the cold this much… it made her miss warmth. A warmth that she once grew so attached that was later forcibly taken away from her by a twisted fate. Her hand went up, wanting to adjust the scarf around her neck… to only realise she wasn’t wearing it.

Ah, that’s right… ever since then…

Mikasa shook her head. No. She didn’t want to remember any of that now.

“Mikasa?” Armin called out again, but in a gentler tone as his hand reached out, gripping her shoulder tightly. She felt comforted by his gesture, at the same time she still felt a sting in her heart from the words he spouted out earlier.

“… I have nothing to say to him.”

Lies. And even Mikasa knew she was lying to herself.

“Try again.” Armin murmured, urging her to be a little more honest with herself, “Do you really have nothing to say to him?”

Mikasa bit her lip before she proceeded to admit some truth, “I… don’t know what to say to him.”

“Trust me, Mikasa… if Eren could’ve apologised to you personally—if he had the time to apologise to you, to everyone a million times, he would… but he didn’t have time, and now he’s detained.” Armin sighed, “But when he’s released, he—” Armin cuts himself off halfway as he noticed a troubled expression forming on his beloved friend’s face. And because he knew her for so long, since childhood, he was able to read her like an open book.

“Is what he said back then still bothering you?”

Mikasa flinched, which confirmed his thoughts.

“You know… he didn’t mean it. He—”

“He had to.” Mikasa completed Armin’s sentence, her obsidian coloured eyes meeting his gaze briefly, before staring down at the ground. “I know that…” She muttered.

Yes, for the most part, she knew that he didn’t mean what he had said. But there was this haunting voice—and this other small part of her brain—that couldn’t help but still believe in his words. There was evidence to support it after all, like how she pinned Armin onto the table when he had tried to attack Eren when he had belittled her.

And as that image flashed in her mind, Eren’s distressing words began to echo.

Do you know what I hate most in this world? Anyone who isn’t free.

Slave. Slave. Slave.

I couldn’t stand to look an undoubting Slave who only followed every order.

SLAVE. SLAVE. SLAVE.

Ever since I was a kid, Mikasa…

Ever since. Ever since. Ever since…

I’ve always hated you.

HATE. HATE. HATE.

Always.

Out of the blue, Mikasa suddenly stumbled as she felt a sharp, and familiar piercing pain in her head. The headaches never left, huh?

Armin quickly supported her before she fell, but before he could say anything, Mikasa started to murmur in a stressful way, as if something was haunting her. “I have to leave…I need to… leave… then maybe I…”

Armin’s eyes softened as the raven trailed off. To some extent, he knew what Mikasa was trying to do by leaving. To some, travelling across the world would mean one is trying to understand… trying to comprehend, and trying to find themselves. Perhaps that’s what Mikasa wanted, to find herself. Or, she wanted to get away, run away… to find some form of distraction. But the blonde knew better—that her leaving and running away wasn’t going to resolve anything.

“You’re not a slave, Mikasa.” Armin said firmly, but he already knew that she would know that he never once saw her as that. Armin knew that these words were what she wanted to hear, it’s just… that it wasn’t him that she needed to hear those words from. “Remember that time, you defended me from Eren when were kids? You—”

Before she could let Armin finish, she pushed herself away from his support and began to walk off again. “Maybe that was because my Ackerman instincts hadn’t fully manifested…” She mumbled.

Armin frowned as he followed after her, “I thought you knew that he didn’t mean what he said? You know… his words weren’t true, right?”

“I know… I know that he didn’t mean what he said, but it doesn’t mean what he said wasn’t true.” And before Armin could retort, he found himself standing in front of the house Mikasa currently resided in. “Wait here.” She muttered before entering.

And when Mikasa came back outside, it wasn’t what she came out with that surprised Armin, it was what she said next.

“Return this to Eren after I leave…” Mikasa mumbled, as she passed the red scarf to the blonde gently. It took a while for Armin to process what she had just said.

It wasn’t like Mikasa to… give away something that she once treasured so much.

“I heard it doesn’t snow as often at Hizuru…”She quickly excused.

And we’re back with the lies, Armin thought tiredly.

“Oh, but don’t tell him I’m going to Hizuru. Nor this. I wouldn’t want to… he doesn’t need to know.” Mikasa added on, forcing a smile that made the blonde began to lose his patience with her lies.

“Mikasa! You’re overthinking this. This scarf… it means a lot to you… Eren… he… Mikasa rethink what you’re doing! I know you’re still hurt after what Eren said. But… time will eventually assuage the pain you have in your heart. And… Eren didn’t mean it! If you just talk to him, I can pro—”

“… Then tell me, Armin…” Mikasa said with the forced smile that remained plastered on her face, “What Eren said to me on that day… is there any proof that what he said was wrong?”

“Yes! Yes there is! Like I said, you…when we were kids, when Eren was talking bad about me, you punched him—”

“—And I also slammed you on the table when you tried to defend me.” Mikasa bit her lip as she said this, her tone suddenly overflowing with regret. “I’m… sorry for th—”

“Mikasa.” Armin didn’t seem interested in her apologies, he was keener in knocking some sense into her. “Please rethink about what you’re doing.” He persisted.

“…Don’t worry.” She reassured, and with the smile she had forced on her face, she made her way back towards the door of her house. “You have to face it!” Armin suddenly exclaimed with his fist clenched, “You’re running away now… from Eren… from everything… you need to face it! You… Just talk to him, Mikasa!” Despite his pleading tone, Mikasa continued to walk.

Is she really going to leave?

By now, Armin knew he can’t stop her but he continued. The only person who can stop her right now wasn’t here. He was somewhere else, lying in a goddamn cell.

“Why don’t you want to talk to him? What’s there to be afraid of?!” Armin began to shout. And that’s when the next four-word question slips from his tongue, that made the raven paralyse. “Don’t you love him?”

Once again, Mikasa felt a sharp arrow stabbing her heart, piercing it all over. And just like that, she remembered a question Eren had asked her before.

What am I to you, Mikasa?

And honestly till now, she doesn’t know. She answered him saying that she saw him as family. But now, with everything… with all these overwhelming emotions. She doesn’t know.

Most of all, she doesn’t know if what her heart was feeling was due to her raw emotion or due to her Ackerman genetics that supposedly made her cling to Eren.

Was everything a sham? She wondered. What am I so afraid of?

Ah, that’s right.

“I’m afraid… of my emotions.” Mikasa didn’t care to elaborate on what she meant by that. Regardless, that was the truth. She was never great with handling emotions—especially the overwhelming ones that she was currently suppressing, with much difficulty.

She was afraid of seeing Eren, because he had all the power to evoke one too many emotions out of her. And she was afraid, so afraid that one of those emotions would be associated with the pain she felt during one of the previous meetings she had with Eren.

Most of all, despite all reassurances, there was a small part of her that was afraid of confronting Eren to only hear him say: Yes, I still think you’re a slave.

Maybe Mikasa did love him, and maybe if she stayed, she’d realise how much she was in love with him.

But love can be painful, and it was pain that Mikasa was running away from.

The world is a cruel place. And sometimes, it can be so cruel to the extent it can make anyone forget about its beauty.

“…and what good will it do to your emotions, Mikasa, if you leave…?”

For some reason, Mikasa felt an itch at her eyes, but she chose to ignore it.

“You’re just confused, Mikasa! Just stay and you and Eren will—”

Mikasa turned back towards the blonde before he could finish his sentence, causing him to pause mid-way in his sentence and his eyes to widen. There were tears forming in her eyes.

If only she could be more honest with herself… if only she could understand her emotions better, Armin thought. After all, those tears of hers that streamed down her cheeks revealed all too much.

It just showed that she was still conflicted, about staying, about leaving… about everything.

“Armin,” She said in a tone meant to soothe, though it made him jump a little, “It’s getting late. You should go to bed… goodnight.”

The raven then reached out for her door knob, twisting and opening it, entering her house… but not without uttering, “Thank you, Armin.” before closing the door.

--

At the Dock – The Day when Mikasa is due to Leave for Hizuru.

--

Eren was now running.

The moment he heard the key unlocking his damn cell, he sprinted away and towards the docks. Clenched in his fist were a red scarf and a piece of paper where Armin jotted down the exact location where Mikasa would be at.

As he ran, he began to remember the things Armin said to him the other day…

The things he said about Mikasa.

But before his thoughts could dive any further, he spotted a figure standing at the docks, which he didn’t fail to recognize immediately.

“M…Mikasa!” He called out hastily.

He hoped it wasn’t too late.

The figure turned, and his pair of emerald orb finally meets her obsidian orbs that soon widen in shock.

“E-Eren?!”

#my fanfic #don't go #eremika #eremika fanfic #eremika fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin fanfic #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction #snk #snk fanfic #snk fanfiction #aot #aot fanfiction #aot fanfic #attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan fanfic #Mikasa #Eren #Armin #Mikasa Ackerman #Eren Jaeger #eren yeager #armin arlert #hanji zoë #mikasa x eren #eren x mikasa #woohoo #i hope this was okay lmao

[unfolded73]

Electrical Storm (1/1) - schitt’s creek ff

David takes the "How Electric Is Your Relationship" quiz (from 5x01) and happily reminisces, until he sees his score. This started with a spreadsheet (for the relationship quiz questions) and ended as an excuse to write quite a lot of porn. So enjoy. Rated Explicit, 5900 words.

_______________

“So what are you and Patrick up to tonight?” Stevie asked as David milled around the office, flipping through the faded travel brochures that he was pretty sure no one had touched since before the Roses first arrived in Schitt’s Creek.

“Nothing. We’re not seeing each other tonight,” David said. He pulled out a pamphlet advertising “The world’s deepest base metal mine below sea level!” and grimaced at the idea that anyone would consider that a tourist attraction.

“You’re not seeing each other tonight,” Stevie repeated, not exactly with surprise in the classical sense because Stevie’s scale of emotional expression was different from other people’s, but David recognized it as surprise.

“I don’t spend every evening with Patrick,” he said indignantly.

“You don’t?”

“You know that I don’t. For one thing, I don’t have that high a tolerance for Ray.”

“Well, I just know that usually if I actually want to see my best friend, I have to go to your store. And I know that Ray told Bob who told Roland that you sleep over there a lot. So.”

“Great to know that the whole town is discussing where I’m sleeping,” David sniffed, moving over to the magazine rack.

“Does that honestly surprise you?”

“No,” he answered with a sigh, pulling out a copy of Major Lady Magazine that promised an interview with Kim Basinger and to reveal the secrets of ‘The Nineties Man’. Good god, where did Dad find these ancient magazines? “Anyway, is this your way of saying you want to hang out tonight?”

“To be honest, I’ve worked a bunch of long shifts over the last several days and I’m pretty sure I’d just end up falling asleep on you if I tried to hang out with you tonight,” Stevie said.

“And this sweater won’t survive your drooling,” David said. “Okay, let’s make an actual plan to do something next weekend, just you and me.”

“You mean, go out? And do things? Like actual human beings?” Stevie wrinkled her nose.

David shrugged. “Or we could get high and watch movies.”

“That sounds more like our speed.”

“Friday?”

Stevie nodded, lips pinched together like she was hiding a smile. “Sure.”

David smiled back because it felt really good to have a best friend, just like it felt really good to have a boyfriend. Even on boring evenings like tonight when he didn’t have anything interesting to do, he was starting to learn that he was happier than he’d ever been in his old life.

He was thinking so much about how much he loved Stevie and how much he loved Patrick that he didn’t realize he was still carrying the women’s magazine from summer 1991 until he was back in his room. He started to toss it on the dresser, but then noticed one more thing on the cover.

How ELECTRIC is your Relationship? Take our quiz and find out!

David smirked. His relationship with Patrick was very electric. He’d destroy a quiz like that, heteronormative though it would certainly be. Flipping past ads for cheap perfume and makeup that really made you realize that 1991 looked more like the 80s than it did the 90s, he located the table of contents and then the quiz. Settling down on his bed, he grabbed the pen that was stuck between pages of his journal and set to work.

Question 1: When you get it on with your man, how long does the fun last? A. A few minutes at best (1 point) B. Until he’s done, but I’m often left lying there unfulfilled (2 points) C. Until we’re both satisfied, however long that takes (5 points) D. All night long! (7 points)

‘Get it on,’ David thought. Ew. The phraseology in this magazine quiz left a lot to be desired. Also, going all night long was overrated and usually required pharmaceutical intervention. He circled C and moved on to the next question.

Question 2: What’s you and your man’s favorite place to do the nasty other than the bedroom? A. I really prefer the bedroom (2 points) B. The shower (4 points) C. The kitchen table (5 points) D. Literally anywhere (7 points)

Okay, well, he did prefer the bedroom, and having sex anywhere that people eat was incorrect. But the shower could be awfully nice, he thought, circling B.

~~~

“Sometimes I suspect you like being over here as much to use the shower as to go to bed with me,” Patrick said, leaning against the bathroom sink and watching David test the temperature of the spray. Ray was hosting an open house for a farmhouse property he was trying to sell, the store was closed today, and they had the house to themselves for four whole hours. David was a little frustrated that they’d already napped away almost an hour of their time together, but sometimes falling into a sex coma after a really spectacular orgasm was irresistable.

“I’ve explained to you about the water pressure at the motel. Also, you got me very dirty,” David said with a leer and a shimmy of his hips. He knew he probably looked ridiculous, moving his body like that when he was naked, but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Patrick grinned, shifting away from the sink and close to David to kiss him. “Yeah, I suppose I did.”

When the water was warm enough, Patrick followed David into the shower, and it didn’t take long for the process of getting cleaned up to devolve into sloppy kisses and roaming hands. Patrick dropped to his knees, sucking a bruise into David’s hip, hand coming up to caress his balls before moved up to his cock, already getting impressively hard given that they’d had sex an hour ago.

Patrick looked up at him, water droplets caught in his eyelashes. “David. You’re so beautiful.”

David swallowed, unable to speak, and ran his hand over Patrick’s hair, caressing the shell of his ear with his fingertips. He still wasn’t used to this, to the fact that sex with Patrick was about so much more than two bodies seeking pleasure. He was overwhelmed a lot of the time by their easy intimacy, with no idea how to contain it.

Patrick’s mouth took over from his hand, thumb pressing against the hickey as he his lips closed around David’s cock. He employed every trick he knew, every trick he’d learned over the months they’d been together, and unraveled David surprisingly quickly. David let his head drop against the tiled wall as he groaned and came in Patrick’s mouth.

~~~

David shook himself from his shower reverie and continued with the quiz.

Question 3: Do you and your man schedule times to get it on? A. No, but only because it rarely happens anymore! (1 point) B. Yes. Once a week like clockwork (2 points) C. We’ve been known to schedule it, but we have spontaneous sex too (5 points) D. We’re spontaneous, and we take every opportunity to get in each other’s pants (8 points)

David hesitated, his pen moving back and forth between C and D. They did schedule sex occasionally, but only because of Ray’s poker night. But then there were the times they’d been so desperate for each other that they’d ended up in the storeroom five minutes after closing, almost feral with the desire to get under each other’s clothes. When they’d been willing to risk very quiet handjobs in David’s tiny bed while Alexis was out, even though his parents were just on the other side of a thin wall. Of course, that didn’t happen as much these days as it had when they’d first gotten together, so perhaps ‘every opportunity’ was giving them a bit too much credit.

He marked C, but reserved the right to come back and change it later.

Question 4: How good are you and your man at phone sex? A. I can’t imagine either of us saying that stuff out loud! (1 point) B. We tried it once but we weren’t very good at it. (2 points) C. I let him talk dirty to me on the phone but I’m not great at reciprocating (4 points) D. We’re both great at dirty talk over the phone; it’s a fun part of our relationship (7 points)

David grinned and marked D. One result of their shortage of privacy was how skilled they had gotten at talking each other off.

~~~

“Are you sure Alexis isn’t going to walk in on you?” Patrick said, and David pressed the phone harder against his ear and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Please don’t mention my sister while I’ve got my dick in my hand,” David said. “She’s out on her run. We have time.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Do you want to fuck me, David?”

“Mm hmm.”

“How?”

“I’d turn you over, put you on your knees and elbows so that your amazing ass is on display for me,” David murmured, his other hand wrapped tight around his cock, slick with lube, moving slowly enough to keep pace with where they were in the narrative.

“Would you open me up for you?” Patrick asked.

“Yeah. Yes. I’d rub your back, get you relaxed, then I’d finger you open until you made that noise.”

He heard Patrick snort out a little breathless laugh. “I make a noise?”

“When you can’t take it anymore, when you’re so ready for me to be inside you that you can barely stand it, and your thighs are shaking and you’re starting to sweat, you make a noise.”

Patrick made a noise now, a little gasping moan. It wasn’t the noise, but it was very gratifying nonetheless. “And then you’d fuck me with that cock.”

David hummed. “Maybe,” he teased.

“David—”

“Yes, I’d fill you up just the way you want, so deep inside, and then when you were ready for me to, I’d start moving—”

“Fuck me hard, David.” He was panting, really into it now, probably stroking himself faster. David listened to hear the sound, the slick sound of Patrick jerking off. Fuck, that was so hot when he could hear the sound of it.

“I’d fuck you so hard that you’d have to grab the headboard, one hand on the bars and the other on your cock, and my hands are on your hips and I’m filling you up, making you feel so good.” David thrust his hips up into his own fist, imagining it, Patrick debauched on those floral sheets of Ray’s, desperate to come.

“Yes, you feel so good, fuck, you make it so…” Patrick trailed off into an unintelligible groan, and that was an easy sound to interpret too, the way he sounded when he came. David could almost taste it on the back of his tongue when he heard Patrick’s voice like that, broken and blissed out.

“I’m gonna come in you,” David mumbled, hand working quickly on the head of his own cock. “You’re so tight, so wet and tight and, god, clenching me, uhhh…” He dropped the phone and cupped his other hand over the head of his cock to keep the mess to a minimum as he orgasmed. After he’d finished, David lay there for a second, staring at the ceiling, breathing hard. Then he grabbed some tissues, wiped his hands off and picked up his phone.

“Hey.”

“You good?” Patrick asked.

“Mmhmm. You?”

“I’m good.” He sighed. “Let’s do that for real very soon, though.”

“Yeah.”

~~~

Question 5: Have you and your man ever engaged in a little afternoon delight during work? A. Doing anything like that during working hours would be wildly unprofessional. I would never. (1 point) B. I would, but we’ve never had the opportunity. (3 points) C. Once or twice, but I was worried we would get caught (5 points) D. Not only have we had sex in the office, but we’re sort of famous for it. (8 points)

“Ugh, so stupid,” David muttered. For two people who had fooled around in the back room of their store as much as Patrick and David had, he deserved maximum points on this question. They shouldn’t have to be ‘famous for it’ to get the highest points — that just showed indiscretion and probably would lead to people getting fired. He reluctantly circled C.

Question 6: How often do you and your partner enjoy dirty movies together? A. Never. I would be too embarrassed! (1 point) B. I would, but I’m afraid to ask my man about it (2 points) C. We did a couple of times, but I wasn’t really into it (3 points) D. We’ve enjoyed dirty movies together (6 points)

David smirked at the phrase ‘dirty movies’ as he circled D. In other words, did they watch porn together — probably not as unusual an activity today as it was might have been in 1991.

~~~

David looked up at Patrick over the top of Patrick’s laptop screen and waggled his eyebrows.

“What?”

“Your porn bookmarks aren’t very well hidden, Patrick.”

“Who do I need to hide them from? No one else uses my laptop except you,” Patrick said, setting his guitar aside to come sit on the bed next to David. “And I thought you were checking the online orders for the store, not looking for porn.”

“I was checking the online orders,” David said, clicking on one of the pornhub links. Based on the titles, it was pretty vanilla stuff from what David could see. “Oh, this guy’s hot,” he said, pointing to the man who was stroking himself on screen.

“Kind of reminds me of Jake, now that you mention it,” Patrick said.

“Ew, he looks nothing like Jake,” David said, giving his boyfriend a side-eye. “Is that why you…”

“No, I prefer the other guy.” Patrick pointed, and they watched in silence for a couple of minutes.

“Well, he certainly deep throats like a pro,” David commented.

“Exactly, it’s very aspirational.”

David shifted back and forth, feeling a little turned on but also uncomfortable with the turn this had taken. “You know you don’t need to… what you do is good. It’s excellent. Porn is, you know, it’s not real—”

“I know, David.” Patrick kissed him on the cheek. “You don’t need to explain that to me.”

“You’re great at blow jobs!” David blurted. “It’s important to me that you know that you’re great at them. That’s all.”

“Well, I hoped so, given how often you come in my mouth. It seemed like I was doing something right.”

David closed the computer and set it aside, pulling Patrick into his arms. “You do everything right.”

~~~

Question 7: Have you ever incorporated food into your sexy time with your man? A. No, it’s way too messy. (1 point) B. We tried it but we didn’t like it much. (2 points) C. Sure, for a special occasion we might bring some honey into the bedroom. (4 points) D. There’s no body part I wouldn’t eat whipped cream off of! (6 points)

David rolled his eyes and groaned out loud in annoyance. Incorporating food into sex was what magazines like this thought passed for kinky, because you weren’t going to find questions about butt plugs or spreader bars on the pages of an early 90s women’s magazine. David loved sex and he loved food, but combining them wasn’t sexy. Whipped cream in bed just ended up smelling like spoiled milk after a couple of hours, and no one wanted that. He circled A and moved on.

Question 8: It might be a high school throwback, but getting busy in a car can add some spice to your relationship. Have you done that? A. Never. What if someone caught us? (1 point) B. We managed to get to second base once before we gave up because it was too uncomfortable (3 points) C. We had some fun in the backseat when we were younger, but now we have a bed. (4 points) D. The illicit thrill of sex in the car is worth the risk! (7 points)

David circled D several times. At least there was one benefit to the fact that their living situations had forced them to make use of Patrick’s car for sex on several occasions.

~~~

“Ow.”

“Sorry.”

“You kneed me in the—”

Patrick kissed him, his hand coming down to stroke David’s abdomen where his knee had unfortunately ended up as he climbed over the center console. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” David whispered, reclining his seat back as far as it would go while Patrick produced a small bottle of lube from somewhere. “Let’s get this back on track.”

Patrick kissed him, deep and filthy, grinding against him with a roll of his hips, and David felt so desperate for it after the week they’d had that he thought he might spontaneously combust. Alexis had been constantly underfoot, as had Ray, and the storeroom was so packed with new merchandise that being in there just made David anxious about all the work that needed doing.

“I want you so badly, I feel like I could come in my pants just from this,” Patrick murmured. Then they were frantically getting clothes out of the way, all groping hands and gasped breaths, kisses getting messier as they got closer to climaxing, as Patrick thrust against David’s bare stomach, whining, his hand working David’s cock clumsily at the same time.

The sound of lubricated skin against skin was almost more arousing than being touched, and when David came, his hand flew out and hit the passenger window hard enough to bruise his knuckles, and when Patrick followed several seconds later, David was pretty sure his sweater had not been hiked up high enough to be spared from being ejaculated on. But then they were giggling into kisses, the damp air in the car stifling as they cleaned up and righted their clothes and continued to laugh.

“That was ridiculous. We’re grown men,” David said.

“And when two grown men love each other very much, sometimes they have to come all over each other in the front seat of a Toyota,” Patrick said, awkwardly climbing back into the driver’s seat.

“Shut up.”

Patrick just grinned widely at him as he started the car.

“I love you, too,” David said.

~~~

Question 9: Have you ever done the nasty with your man in the great outdoors? A. Never! It’s too risky. (1 point) B. I might try it if I could guarantee no one would see us. (2 points) C. Yes, but the sand in uncomfortable places made it less than ideal. (4 points) D. All the time! There’s nothing like sex under the open sky. (8 points)

Grimacing, David circled A. Never mind being seen, the risk from insects and spiders made outdoor sex a no-go for him. The fact that Patrick, who had grown up camping, never once suggested any activity to David requiring sleeping outdoors just went to show how well Patrick knew him.

Question 10: Do you dress up in sexy outfits for your man? A. No, it’s too embarrassing (1 point) B. I did once, but we’re too settled for that now (2 points) C. On special occasions, I might get into some lingerie (5 points) D. We regularly incorporate dress-up into our sex life (7 points)

~~~

“I’ve never seen you wear this jacket,” Patrick said, holding the sleeve out from the motel room closet.

David glanced over from where he was arranging his sweaters in the cedar chest. “I don’t think I’ve worn it since we started dating.” He knew he hadn’t, because David knew exactly the last time he’d worn it. It was the last time he’d had sex with someone who wasn’t Patrick.

Patrick pulled the hanger off the rod to get a closer look at it. “It’s a nice jacket. Why don’t you wear it?”

“Of course it’s a nice jacket; it cost almost three thousand dollars,” David sniffed.

“Jesus.” Patrick held it away from his body carefully like it might bite him.

“It’s Rick Owens,” David explained.

“I’ve heard of him,” Patrick said as he hung the jacket back in the closet.

“From me.”

Patrick walked over and kissed him. “Yes, from you.” Then kissed him again. “It’s a sexy jacket. I bet you look good in it.”

“I look amazing in it, that’s why I tended to wear it when I was trying to pick up a random,” David said. Or have a revenge fuck with an ex, he didn’t add.

Patrick pouted. “You never wore it for me.”

“You were never a random,” David said, putting his arms around Patrick. “You’re someone I respect and love.”

“Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t appreciate you in that jacket.”

Which was why the next morning, David showed up for work wearing the leather jacket over a long sleeved white t-shirt, and it was a good thing the store was empty, because the look in Patrick’s eyes as his gaze raked over David was by itself indecent.

“Goddamn.”

“What?” David said innocently, going behind the counter to set his things down.

“Please tell me you aren’t going to wear that all day,” Patrick said, reaching down to adjust the front of his jeans, which made David’s smirk hard to contain.

David stepped further back into the storeroom to grab a box of the shampoo; he’d noticed some gaps on the shelf as he came in. He didn’t even manage to pick up the box before Patrick had followed him and was pressed up against his back.

“You look so fucking sexy,” Patrick breathed.

“Mmm, do I?” David asked.

“You knew this would drive me crazy.”

“I might’ve had a suspicion.”

Patrick’s hips pressed against David’s ass. “I just want to bend you over and—”

“Not during store hours, honey,” David said, stepping away and picking up the box of shampoo.

“You’re a fucking tease.”

David kissed Patrick on the cheek as he went by. “Love you, too.”

They were extremely busy that day. There was a chocolate festival in Elm Valley that weekend, and thanks to Patrick’s idea to pay to be one of the festival sponsors, the Rose Apothecary name was emblazoned on a lot of the festival advertising. It paid off. There was no time for flirting on the floor and stolen kisses in the storeroom. They couldn’t even eat lunch together. But it didn’t mean that David didn’t catch Patrick staring at him a few times during the morning as he was ringing up a customer or restocking the merchandise.

When they finally saw the last customer out, twenty minutes after closing time, David was exhausted. He’d also shed the leather jacket hours ago because it had gotten too warm to wear it, so his naughty plans from that morning were mostly forgotten. He leaned against the door and closed his eyes.

“I think we might have broken our single day sales record,” Patrick said as he totalled up their take for the day. “How should we celebrate?”

“I can open some wine,” David suggested.

“Wine sounds great,” Patrick said, focused on going through the credit card receipts.

When David approached with two full glasses, Patrick took one with an inscrutable look on his face and clinked the glass against David’s. “To a successful day.”

“Mmm,” David murmured in agreement, taking a sip of wine.

“There’s one more thing we need to do, though,” Patrick said.

David looked around at their decimated stock and at the floor, filthy from all of the day’s foot traffic. “There’s a lot of things we need to do.”

Patrick sidled up close and put his mouth next to David’s ear. “Perhaps so, but first I need you to go in the back and put that jacket on. I’m going to fuck you while you’re wearing it.”

David’s dick reacted like it had been touched. “Patrick Brewer, I can’t believe you just said that.” He couldn’t stop himself from grinning widely at his boyfriend while he took another sip of wine.

“Now, David,” Patrick said, taking him by the shoulder and sort of shoving him toward the curtained off area, because he knew how much David liked it when Patrick manhandled him.

Shooting Patrick one more grin, David went back into the storeroom. He set his wine glass down on a shelf and picked up the coat, sliding his arms through the leather sleeves. This jacket had seen him through club openings and drug binges and a literal orgy. He’d worn it on some of the worst nights of his life, more of them than he could probably remember. He hadn’t consciously realized he’d retired it until Patrick asked him about it. Nonetheless, he found that it didn’t hold any power for having been with him during that time of his life. Now it was just a jacket that turned his boyfriend on, and David was happy for it to be that and nothing more.

Patrick came in and his expression had shifted. “Is this okay?” he asked softly. “Can I…”

David nodded. “I’ll use the safe word if you go too far. But you won’t.”

Wrapping his arms around David, Patrick’s hands slid down the back of the jacket to settle on David’s ass as he leaned in and kissed him, biting David’s lower lip hard enough to hurt. “Do you know what it was doing to me this morning, watching you walk around the store in this?” he murmured against David’s mouth.

“Tell me.”

“It made me want to devour you,” Patrick said, and then, as good as his word, he dropped to his knees and began unbuttoning David’s jeans.

David was only half-hard when Patrick took his cock in his mouth but it took almost no time before he was fully erect, gasping and clutching for the wall as Patrick’s fingernails sank into the swell of his ass and as he sucked expertly at David’s length. Too soon, he stopped, letting David’s cock slide from his mouth. Standing back up, Patrick guided David over to the table they used to unpack boxes, which thanks to the rush on the store today was mostly empty. “Bend over,” he said, pushing hard on David’s back. A thrill ran up David’s spine as he obeyed.

“Patrick, fuck,” he whined as Patrick kicked at the instep of one of David’s shoes until his legs were spread as wide as his pants would allow. David heard the snap of a cap of lube open and close, and then Patrick’s fingers were on him. The preparation he did for David was perfunctory at best, and it burned just a little when Patrick was pressing his cock inside, quicker than he ever had before. It didn’t stop David from pushing back, taking Patrick harder, faster, until he was buried deep.

“Tell me when I can—”

“You can,” David gasped. “You can move.”

Patrick’s thrusts were hard, making David’s hip bones collide painfully with the wood, and he reached out and braced himself by clutching the edge of the table.

“You love getting fucked, don’t you,” Patrick almost snarled, feral and dominant and it was very possibly the hottest thing David had ever experienced.

“I love it,” he groaned. “I love your cock.”

“Take it,” Patrick gritted out, his hips thrusting and the table shifting enough to rattle the bottles inside an unloaded box. “Take my cock.”

David was too distracted by how hard Patrick was fucking him, by the noises he was making, to even give any thought to his own cock, and before David knew it Patrick was groaning beautifully and pulsing inside him. As he was coming down, as Patrick’s softening cock was sliding out of David, as he felt wetness dripping down his inner thigh, Patrick somehow had the presence of mind to reach around with a slick hand and pump David’s cock, a quick and dirty handjob that worked surprisingly quickly.

After they had cleaned up as much as they could and made themselves reasonably decent, Patrick was full of soft kisses for David. “Thank you. That was amazing. Thank you.”

David smiled. “I’m glad you like the jacket.”

~~~

David circled D. Maybe it was a little bit of a cheat — they didn’t regularly incorporate dress-up. But he felt like he deserved a couple of extra points for how hot that afternoon with the jacket had been.

He totalled up his points (48) and flipped the page to see what his score meant.

Results:

11-30 points: Total power failure! You and your man need an emergency infusion of electricity into your relationship, or you risk losing him to a woman who can really blow his fuses!

David rolled his eyes at the pun and at the heteronormativity. He had way more points than that, anyway, he thought smugly.

31-58 points: In Need of a Generator. Your relationship with your man has some juice going to it, but you could stand to turn the power up. Try to be more adventurous together!

59-71 points: Electrical Storm! Your relationship is so hot that it’s in danger of setting the house on fire! That man of yours better appreciate what he has in you!

“What the fuck,” David said. In need of a generator??

“Fuck that,” he said, turning back and going through the questions again. He changed his answers for questions 3 and 5 to D, and for good measure changed his answer to the question about having sex outdoors to B. Maybe, for Patrick, he would be willing to risk a June bug attack and have sex outdoors. But only because of how much he loved Patrick.

He totalled up his points again and got 55, then checked the last page one more time.

In need of a generator.

He threw the magazine on the floor.

~~~~~~

“Feeling better?” Patrick asked when David emerged from the bathroom in a pair of comfortable sweats, freshly showered. Patrick was stretched out on David’s bed in the motel, watching TV.

“To be honest, I still feel a little like I’m walking on shaky logs suspended in the air.” He looked around. “Where did Alexis go?”

“She felt so bad about this afternoon that she and Ted collected your parents and they left to see a movie in Elmdale,” Patrick said, switching off the television.

“Alexis… and my parents… are in Elmdale,” David said.

“Yep.”

“For hours.”

“Yep.”

“We have this room all to ourselves. With no one next door to barge in on us.” David was trying to restrain himself from grinning like a lunatic, but it was a failing endeavor.

“That’s correct,” Patrick said, coming over and wrapping his arms around David. “So if you feel like we’re capable of generating some excitement—”

“I said I was sorry about that—”

“I know,” Patrick said, kissing him.

“I’ve never been in a long-term relationship with someone before.”

“I know that.”

“So I don’t know what it’s supposed to feel like,” David went on. “I started to worry that we don’t tear into each other in the back of the store as much as we used to.”

“David, I’m kind of glad that I’m not as obsessed with having sex with you as I was when we first got together. It was hard to think about anything else, which was kind of inconvenient since we were trying to get the store off the ground.”

“It was really hot, though,” David whispered.

“Things between us are still really hot,” Patrick said, his hand cupping David’s cock through his sweats.

David looked back at his bed and sighed.

“I know, it’s a small bed,” Patrick said, reading his mind. “Hasn’t stopped us before.”

“Well, there was that time you tried to flip us over and we ended up on the floor,” David said as Patrick reached behind his back and pulled his own t-shirt off over his head. “And then my dad started shouting at us through the wall, asking if we’d broken something.”

“Only my dignity,” Patrick said as he shucked off his jeans. “So I won’t try that particular move.”

Once their clothes were off, they settled into bed, David spooning up against Patrick’s back. He kissed Patrick’s shoulder, arm wrapped around his midsection, and for a few minutes they just lay there and enjoyed being naked together. David was aroused but it was a distant thing. Mostly he was just enjoying the physical touch, the fact that he had someone he could be this intimate with. No magazine quiz could capture a moment like this.

“Is it weird that I’d be equally happy if we just cuddled right now?” David asked softly, lips still trailing over Patrick’s skin. “I mean, that’s some kinky shit, right?”

Patrick laughed. “We can just cuddle if that’s what you want, David. It did occur to me that the adrenaline crash from the tree walk might have left you too tired for sex.”

He was tired, and he closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation of Patrick’s back against his chest, his ass cradled in the bend of David’s pelvis, David’s knees pressed into the backs of his legs.

“On the other hand, we’re alone. And fucking feels really good.”

“It does.”

David shifted his hips, his cock getting harder as he generated some friction between them. “Can I… can I just fuck your thighs? Just like this?”

Patrick gasped. “Yeah, that… yeah.” He reached over and pulled open the drawer of David’s nightstand, passing the lube he found back to David.

David slicked himself and Patrick up and they shifted around a bit until it was perfect, until David could move easily back and forth, reaching around to stroke Patrick’s cock in time with his own thrusts. They kept things on a low simmer for a little while, David’s teeth scraping Patrick’s shoulder as he slowly fucked him.

“I love our relationship, too,” Patrick murmured, his head tilted back, his hand gripping David’s thigh. “I love watching you design things for the store. I love your complicated coffee order. I love your sweaters and your eyebrows and the way your hands move when you talk.”

David gasped, tears coming to his eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Things accelerated then, David chasing his orgasm with sharper thrusts, Patrick clenching his thighs together and moaning as David stroked him in a tight fist. They came together, a gasping mess of limbs.

When their breathing finally slowed, Patrick murmured. “These sheets are ruined.”

“I’ll strip the bed and wash them before Stevie has to do it,” David said. He usually wanted post-coital clean up to happen immediately, especially when they were in danger of ending up glued to each other like this, but right now he couldn’t bring himself to move. He stroked Patrick’s arm. “Thanks for putting up with me today.”

“David, you’re the best thing that’s happened in my life. ‘Putting up with you’ isn’t ever what I would call it, even when you’re being a little ridiculous.”

David’s eyes squeezed shut, and he pressed his forehead against Patrick’s shoulder. “Okay. I love you.”

“And no more taking relationship quizzes, please?”

David sniffed. “I can’t promise that.”

Chuckling, Patrick peeled himself away from David and stood up, heading toward the bathroom. “Just for that, I’m taking the first shower. And I love you, too.”

David buried his face in his pillow and smiled.

#david x patrick ff #david x patrick fic #schitt's creek ff #schitt's creek fic #david x patrick smut #my fic

[lalunaunita]

Lovesong - an Adrinette AU

I participated in the Left to Write Summer Santa fic exchange this year, and this is my work for @hari-writes. You can find it here and there’s an accompanying Spotify playlist (SFW) here.

Rating: General

Summary: In this AU, Gabriel Agreste becomes reclusive after his wife’s disappearance, but does not seek out the Miraculous or become Hawkmoth. Adrien Agreste finds himself bouncing around a silent mansion with fewer and fewer opportunities to leave. He channels his emotions and frustrations into music, sharing the tracks online under an alias. His biggest fan is a listener named SewSweets, who in real life is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. As time passes and Adrien’s song collection grows, Marinette’s feelings for the mysterious composer do as well. But  will she ever find a way to meet him?

Adrien looked dubiously at the gray coating the sky outside his window. A few fat raindrops pitter-pattered on the glass and confirmed his suspicions. The outdoor photoshoot schedule for the afternoon would be canceled. He grimaced. He'd really been looking forward to getting out of the mansion, even if was only for work. He flopped down onto his couch and sighed. The only thing left on his list for today was piano practice. He eyed the piano over the edge of the couch. Nathalie had left a new sonata on the piano bench; he was supposed to start working on it today and share progress with his dad tonight.

Might as well get started, he thought, but he didn't move. Instead, he grabbed his cell phone from the coffee table in front of the couch and tapped a quick text.

How's school?

A reply pinged back almost immediately. Ugh, boring. You better get over here. Did you enroll yet?

Adrien didn't bother to type an answer. He and Chloe both knew it was wishful thinking. Dredging up a sigh from the bottom of his soul, Adrien got to his feet and slouched over to the piano. He swiped the sheet music off the bench, sat down, and turned on the narrow lamp above the music stand. He studied the paper in front of him for a few minutes, then settled it above the keyboard and got started.

He had to admit that playing piano was something he enjoyed. Adrien let himself get caught up in the complexity of the piece, until one particularly difficult spot caused him to play the wrong chord. Wait, was that the wrong chord? he asked himself. He tracked back to the spot and played it again. Oh, yeah, technically it was. But his chord hadn't sounded sour or out of place. In fact, it was unusually pretty.

He played the chord again as an arpeggio, drawing each note out in succession until they gave him goosebumps. Wow. He took two of the notes down low with his left hand, and played a made-up melody with his right. Adrien glanced at the sheet music and bit his lip. He should be practicing the piece, but he didn't want to forget his chord. In fact, the whole melody wasn't bad, especially as his left hand set a gentle rhythm. He played it, over and over. It felt like it was building to something. He switched chords and felt a sensation akin to a slap in the face. Ouch, no. That was definitely not right. He pressed two or three more chords down, feeling his way into the music, and smiled when the sound reached his ears. That was more like it!

The rest of impromptu piece flowed easily. It wasn't classical, obviously; his dad would frown on it. It wasn't a blaring pop song from a modeling gig either. Realization hit him: the song was his. He'd created this song. Excitement electrified his arms, making his fingers nearly nerveless. Should he... should he share it with Father? No. Chloe, maybe? No, not yet.

He played it through again—there were some subtle changes as he felt his way through the piece, but he genuinely liked it. Adrien pulled his phone from his pocket and opened the voice recorder app. The quality would probably suck, but at least he wouldn't forget his own song. He played it through into the app twice and saved the file.

Nathalie poked her head in the door just as he was locking his phone screen.

"It's sounding good, Adrien," she complimented.

Adrien smiled nervously. Nathalie wouldn't know J.S. Bach from a pounding jackhammer; she always said he sounded good.

"Thanks, Nathalie. Hey, I had an idea. Sometimes I record myself to check tempo and stuff like that—it helps me improve. Do you think I could get a microphone? Or maybe even an electric keyboard? Those play directly into digital files you can put on the computer. Not to replace the real piano or anything—I know Father insists on the grand piano. It would help a lot, though. Please?" Adrien lifted his eyebrows in his most subtle version of puppy dog eyes.

Nathalie might not know music, but she knew manipulation. He kept the pleading look on his face to an absolute minimum as her lips thinned in thought. Stay polite, keep eye contact, he counseled himself as he held his breath.

"I'll ask your father. Finish up what you're doing; dinner is in half an hour," Nathalie replied.

Adrien let out a huge sigh around a smile as his door closed softly behind her. Yes!

---

Marinette groaned and threw herself backward in her office chair, toes trailing as it rolled across her bedroom floor.

“What’s bugging you?” Alya asked, glancing up from her perch on the chaise lounge.

“I can’t find anything good to listen to while I sew. This is supposed to be our work-on-projects day, and you’re all set with your laptop and earbuds and a million ideas to research, but I’ve run out of music,” complained Marinette.

Alya smiled and shook her head. “It’s not that big of a deal. We can find you something. Did you sign up for BirdieMuse like Nino suggested? He said a lot of independent musicians are uploading music there. It’s getting popular.”

“Oh, I did! I forgot about that.” Marinette rolled back over to her desk and clicked her mouse.

The music sharing app loaded up and colorful album covers paraded across her computer screen. Several artists had simple profile pictures in place of professional photographs; Marinette assumed those must be more amateur artists.

“I don’t even know what I like today. My brain is being difficult,” Marinette muttered as Alya came over to stare at the screen with her.

“Try an alphabetical listing. Can’t hurt.” Alya shrugged.

Marinette scrolled back and forth, looking for a name that sounded interesting. The word Fashion caught her eye in the listing for F and she stopped to take a closer look. FashionForte, located in Paris, France, had submitted five tracks in the past month. Well, if this person liked fashion and design as much as Marinette did, then the music would be good, right? The profile picture featured a black cat with green eyes. She decided to chance it.

A sweetly somber piano tune swelled as Marinette adjusted her speakers, filling her room with sound. The girls looked at each other, eyes widening.

“Wow,” they said in unison.

The melody sent a little thrill through Marinette.

“Seriously good call,” she said as Alya returned to the chaise. The pair put FashionForte’s tracks on a loop and settled down to work.

Alya left around dinnertime, leaving Marinette alone in her room. She finally turned off the mellow piano music she'd let play all afternoon. Curious, she clicked on FashionForte's profile. Other than the picture of the black cat and the location of Paris, France, there weren't many details. The Artist Summary read: Just a guy who likes music. Each song had a space next to the title entry for artist notes, but they were all empty. Oooookay, thought Marinette. Her cursor hovered over the Comment box for the page. Why not? She clicked it and started typing.

Hi FF! I'm SewSweets and I live in Paris, too. I love your songs—they inspired me today as I was working. I hope you'll post more! Have a great day.

Satisfied, Marinette sent the message. She remembered to subscribe to FashionForte at the last second, then closed the app and headed downstairs to eat with her parents.

The next morning was Sunday and Marinette relished the chance to sleep in. She finally opened her eyes when soft sunshine filtered down through her skylight. Weightless dust motes danced through beams of light as Marinette laid under her comforter. She groggily counted up things she wanted to do with her day. With a yawn and a stretch, she pulled herself upright and knuckled sleep out of her eyes.

Once she was down the stairs of her loft, Marinette sat down at her desk and wiggled her mouse. An icon in the corner of her screen caught her attention. An update from BirdieMuse? She opened it and found that FashionForte had uploaded a new song. For the first time, the notes section had an entry.

"This is the first song I wrote. I've been working on it for a while and it's finally ready to share. Hope you like it."

The note didn't mention Marinette personally, but somehow she felt like the recipient. She clicked the track title: In the Rain. From the opening chords to the build of the melody, Marinette found herself lost in a swirl of emotions as the short track played. It didn't sound so much like rain coming down as it did the quiet drops that fell from the eaves outside her window. She closed her eyes against the sun streaming in, letting a gentle melancholy settle over her as the song evoked memories of gray days. An image rose in her mind of long fingers pressing piano keys as a rainstorm raged outside. The face of the person in her mind was just a blur, but she could see the confident hands that created a beautiful melody. The piece concluded and Marinette opened her eyes.

She went back to the comment she’d left for FashionForte. Her single statement from yesterday sat there with no response. Nonetheless, she typed one in the new song’s comment box.

In the Rain is beautiful. I like it the best out of all your songs. It's the first one you wrote? You are very talented. Hope you have a nice Sunday.

Marinette backed out to FashionForte’s artist page and played the six tracks on repeat as she got dressed. She grinned. It felt like she’d added a new gem to her collection.

---

Adrien thumbed open the notification from BirdieMuse on his phone. SewSweets had left another comment. Well, he had one fan at least. Probably a retired matron with a candy habit that enjoyed quilting. Nonetheless, now that he’d started writing, he didn’t plan to stop. Nathalie had really come through. Adrien had a keyboard that recorded directly to his computer and a great pair of headphones, so no one in the house could even hear him playing wrong notes and trying out chords. He was keeping up his classical practice too, so he’d probably doubled the amount of time he played piano over the last month.

His dad would almost certainly frown on Adrien writing and sharing music. Adrien had deliberately kept his profile vague so it couldn’t be traced back to him. Even if Nathalie or Chloe or someone he knew came across the BirdieMuse account, which was unlikely, they’d never have a clue. And ultimately, the extra practice was paying off. Adrien could see the tiny approving twitch of a smile on Father’s face when he came in to hear Adrien’s musical progress every week. Now, if only music could solve all his other problems…

Adrien had made a couple of attempts to go to Chloe’s school, but he hadn’t yet made it to the door. Nathalie and the Gorilla were always hot on his trail in his father’s gray sedan, waiting for him at the steps of Francois Dupont. He had no choice but to turn back to the mansion or make a scene, and he definitely wasn’t going to embarrass his father by making a scene on a school sidewalk. He stopped texting Chloe about enrolling after Nathalie and the Gorilla foiled the second attempt. It wasn’t fair to get Chloe’s hopes up. If he accomplished sneaking into Francois Dupont, it would have to be a surprise.

Adrien sighed and sat up. He was perched on the stairs outside the front door of the mansion, taking in the nice weather while doing homework. He wiggled his feet in his sneakers and tapped his soles against the marble. The part of Paris he could see outside the mansion gates was quiet on a Sunday morning. He slapped his textbook closed and tucked his pencil behind his ear, grinning. He couldn't deny it. SewSweets' kind words made him want to get back to the piano. He looked at the comment one more time, then headed up to his room.

---

A month after discovering FashionForte, Marinette was still hooked on his music. He'd changed his profile picture—a single eye, peridot with darker flecks of emerald at the edges of the iris. He'd built a small following too, but never replied to any of the comments. He seemed content just to drop beauty on them every other week. Marinette left a comment on every single song, except for one entitled "Chloe". She tried not to let her nemesis make her biased against the song, she really did. But the tune was as irritating and bossy as the Chloe she knew—full of pecky, short notes. Marinette eventually dropped it from her playlist altogether.

She worked on projects as she listened and daydreamed about the composer. Maybe he was... only about eighteen or so, like, older than her—but not too much older. Maybe he had a beard! Mmm, no, she wasn't ready for a beard. Maybe he had black hair like the cat in his old picture. Marinette knew it was silly, but she couldn't deny she wanted to know more about FashionForte. She worried she was wasting daydreams on a forty-something recluse, stuck up in a tower in a ritzy part of Paris. Nah. The songs felt younger than that. She thought they did, anyway.

Marinette's phone rang and she leaned over to see Alya's face on the caller ID. She swiped the video call open.

"So, how is the hat going?" asked Alya.

"I'm almost done, but I forgot to grab a feather for the brim! I have a little bit of embroidery to finish up for the hat band and then I guess I'll head back to the Trocadero—there were lots of pigeons there earlier." Marinette let her tongue slip to one side of her mouth as she concentrated.

Alya shook her head on the phone screen, curls bouncing. "I'll get the feather. I want to meet you at the school and watch you win this competition. It'll be great for the school blog. And you're about to meet your fashion icon! I'm going to get pictures of you melting into a puddle."

Marinette frowned, but both girls dissolved into giggles.

"I'll do my best to keep it together. I really don't want to embarrass myself, Alya." Anxiety rose up in Marinette's chest and she shook her cramped hands out.

"Chill, girl, you won't. You know I was kidding. And I'll be right next to you the whole time. You're going to do awesome," Alya replied confidently.

Marinette felt some of her tightness ease as she looked at the honest belief on her best friend's face. "Thanks, Alya."

"No problem. I'll see you in half an hour, and I'll bring the feather." Alya broke the connection and Marinette bent her head to get a closer look at the hat band.

Half an hour later, Marinette raced down from her room, tossed a goodbye to her parents, and crossed the street to her school. She was nervous about participating in Gabriel Agreste's derby hat competition, but her feather-based design really was good and she was proud of the work she'd put in. Mr. Agreste had a son around Marinette's age who would wear the winning hat, so he'd likely be there too. Chloe was gaga over the boy, always telling everyone that she was friends with him, but no one had ever seen them hang out. Marinette rolled her eyes. Adrien Agreste looked nice enough in the magazine photos she'd seen of him, but Marinette knew looks could be deceiving. If he was anything like Chloe, he’d be a bratty, entitled nightmare.

She rushed into the open doors and saw Alya waiting, feather in hand. Marinette skidded to a stop in the courtyard.

"Where have you been?" Alya hissed. "They're about to start."

Marinette took the feather and tucked it in. "You got the perfect one. Let's go!"

The girls crossed to the center of the courtyard where several podiums had been erected. She set her hat down delicately on the last open podium, then looked at the competition. There were several good designs, but Alya elbowed her sharply and pointed. Marinette hissed in anger. Chloe and Sabrina stood next to a very familiar-looking derby hat, smug smiles on their faces.

"She stole my design!" whispered Marinette.

Alya's eyes were wide as she nodded. Marinette mulled over whether to say anything or simply wait. Chloe didn't know it, but she was too clever for her own good. Marinette could easily prove ownership, and she didn’t even need to go get her sketchbook to do it. Better to wait until the judging was complete, she decided. If she said anything now, it might disqualify them both or bias Mr. Agreste’s judging. Speaking of, where was he?

Marinette turned away from her cheating competition and looked around. A tall woman with a red streak in her dark hair stood next to Mr. Damocles, primly clutching a tablet. Next to her stood the famous Adrien Agreste. He was tan and good-looking, but didn't seem inclined to smile. He's probably too good for us, thought Marinette, eyeing him up and down.

"Where is Mr. Agreste?" Mr. Damocles asked, his bushy eyebrows furrowing.

Adrien shifted his feet uncomfortably as the woman held up her tablet. Gabriel Agreste's face appeared on the screen, looking perfectly coiffed.

"I’m here," he replied.

Marinette and Alya exchanged glances. He was only looking at the hats through a camera? He wasn’t at the school himself? Crestfallen, Marinette sighed. So much for meeting her fashion hero in person.

"Nathalie, please take me to the hats. I would like to see them from every angle," Gabriel Agreste intoned from the tablet.

"Yes, sir," said Nathalie.

Adrien followed them, rubbing his elbow. Marinette watched as he waved at Chloe, who wiggled her fingers with a saccharine smile on her face. Marinette hoped Adrien didn't get a say in which hat was chosen. Apparently he was friends with Chloe, and Marinette knew she'd use every advantage she could.

They walked around three hats before coming to Marinette’s podium. She had to stifle a smile at Alya’s antsy fidgeting. Marinette could feel her own heart beating a mile a minute, but she tried to keep the emotion off of her face. It was time to act professional.

Nathalie stopped, holding the tablet so that Mr. Agreste was eye level with Marinette’s hat.

“And this is, uh, Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” Mr. Damocles said, peering down at a note card in his hand.

“Hello, Marinette,” Nathalie and Mr. Agreste said in unison.

“Hello,” said Adrien, holding out one hand with a shy smile.

Marinette blinked. Adrien Agreste's green eyes were electrifying in person. And they seemed familiar, somehow. She must have seen him in more magazines than she'd realized. She shook his hand numbly, recovering from the disappointment of his father's absence.

“Hello,” she said back, managing little more than a whisper.

Alya stared hard at Marinette for a beat before holding her own hand out to shake. “Hi, I’m Alya Cesaire, reporter for the school blog. I’m here to write an article on the winning hat.”

Adrien let go of Marinette’s hand, politely reaching for Alya’s in turn. The spell was broken. Marinette shook her head a little to clear it.

“Tell us about your hat, Miss,” prompted Mr. Agreste.

Marinette picked up her hat with shaking hands, but spoke clearly. “Everything on my derby hat is handmade, from the embroidery, to the weaving of the band, to the stitching on the brim. All done by myself.”

She showed off the features of the hat with a little flourish, then set it back on the podium. Adrien, Mr. Damocles, and Nathalie walked away to the next hat.

“Nice job, Marinette,” Alya whispered, “but what are you going to do about Chloe?”

“Just wait,” Marinette replied, keeping her voice low.

“Is this a joke?” They heard Mr. Agreste ask as he viewed Chloe’s hat.

The tablet swung to Marinette and Alya, then back to Chloe and Sabrina. Chloe timed her waterworks perfectly.

“How could you, Marinette? You stole my design? It’s scandalous!” she wailed as Sabrina patted her arm. Mr. Agreste’s eyes took on a sympathetic cast as he watched the scene unfold.

Time to step in before this goes too far, Marinette thought. She came forward into the camera’s view.

“Mr. Agreste? I’m sorry about the situation, but I can prove that this derby hat is my original design,” she declared, holding her hat with care.

“Oh, really? Go ahead,” he replied.

“There’s a special design element that only the true designer knows about. I signed mine,” she said.

Marinette turned her hat upside down and displayed the gold embroidery in the light. It spelled out Marinette in neat cursive, fanciful enough to be mistaken for embellishment.

The group startled as Chloe’s podium fell over onto the floor. She ran off without another word, still sobbing. Sabrina stood like a deer in headlights until they turned their attention back to Marinette and her derby hat.

So dramatic, Marinette thought, rolling her eyes.

“You certainly have the laboring hands of a hat maker, Marinette,” Mr. Agreste said. “Congratulations. You win the contest.”

His lips scrunched in what Marinette imagined was meant to be a smile, and then the tablet went dark.

Marinette stared at it for a moment, unsure whether her ears had heard correctly. Alya’s whoop of delight brought her back to reality.

“Congratulations, Marinette!” she enthused.

“Congratulations!” Nathalie and Mr. Damocles echoed.

“Congratulations, Marinette. I had a feeling you would win,” Adrien said, coming closer.

“Oh, uh, you did? Wait, aren’t you friends with Chloe?” Marinette asked, puzzled.

Adrien let out a nervous laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, um we’ve known each other since we were kids. I’m sorry she tried to steal your design. So dramatic.”

Marinette smiled at his unconscious echo of her thoughts. Adrien Agreste was actually pretty nice. Too bad he wasn’t attending Francois Dupont like Chloe always insisted he would.

“So where do you go to school?” she asked curiously, but Nathalie stepped in before Adrien could answer.

“It’s time to leave. Miss Dupain-Cheng, we’ll send a courier to your home to pick up the hat in three days. Is that alright?” she asked.

Marinette could tell Nathalie was taking her ‘yes’ for granted. She didn’t even look up from her tablet.

“S-sure. Sounds great,” Marinette agreed, taken aback at the woman’s brisk manner.

They exchanged information. Nathalie swept Adrien out of the school so quickly that Marinette could almost believe the entire experience was a dream—until she saw Alya snapping photos of her derby hat. Marinette packed it up carefully in its hat box, inner elation making every movement a delight.

“I really won!” Marinette laughed to herself.

She thought she’d feel drained, but her mind came up with new project ideas all the way home from school. She grabbed her sketchbook and opened up Birdiemuse on her computer. Marinette navigated to her FashionForte playlist. She had a particular song in mind, an energetic anthem that always got her blood pumping. She typed a new comment on the track.

Today was a huge victory, FF, she began. I’m gonna play Bounce Out Of Here full blast and shake the walls! Thanks for always inspiring me.

Marinette grinned and sent the message, not caring whether FashionForte read it or not. The bubbly, fast paced tune she put on turned her empty bedroom into a victory celebration. She cranked the volume on her speakers and spun around and around in her chair, giggling like a little kid.

---

Adrien was on his final round of Mecha Strike 3 when his phone pinged. He recognized the sound—Birdiemuse had its own tone. He smiled as he fired at his opponent; it was probably SewSweets with something about his latest song. She never took long to listen and make a new comment. He was still smiling after reading her words about Bounce Out of Here. Adrien had gained a decent following in the past months, but SewSweets was definitely his biggest fan. She commented on everything with the exception of his song for Chloe. The absence of text revealed how she felt far more than a negative review, he thought sardonically. Finished with his game, he turned over his cell phone to check the messages.

The smile dropped from his face when he saw SewSweets’ newest comment. She’d gone back to one of his earliest tracks, entitled Solo. Adrien had written it just after his father cancelled a trip to the coast. The days of sun and time with his dad had been replaced with Adrien’s same old lonely view of Paris while his father worked day and night on next fall’s fashion line. Adrien’s disappointment had spilled across the keyboard with a sad, slow melody complemented by quiet minor chords for the left hand.

I think I really screwed up, FF. I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t want to be all alone again. nm, goodnight.

Brow furrowed, Adrien read the comment three times. This was nothing like the ebullient SewSweets he’d gotten used to. She felt alone? He clicked on her profile and opened a direct message.

Hey, are you okay?

He left the dialogue open for a few seconds, not really expecting a response. Surprised, he noticed three dots illuminate the bottom of the screen. SewSweets was typing!

Hey, FF. Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry I bothered you. Had a fight with my best friend. It’s no big deal, really.

Oh, Adrien replied. Well, I’m here if you want to talk.

The dialogue box stayed empty for a few moments.

Thanks. I didn’t know whether you even read my comments, came the hesitant reply.

Oh yeah, every single one! Honestly, I would have stopped composing months ago if you didn’t comment on everything, Adrien typed.

Wow, really? SewSweets replied.

I sort of started by accident, and I didn’t know if my songs were any good.

I’m no music critic, but I really like them. As I’ve said before, lol.

Adrien grinned, a blush creeping up his cheeks. Thank you again anyway! So, what was this fight about?

Honestly, I don’t want to talk about it. I’ll call her tomorrow and work it out. Hey, how old are you?

14. How old are you?

That’s cool. I’m 13. How are you so good at piano at 14??

...lots of practice?

Okay, fair enough.

Adrien chatted with SewSweets for about half an hour, a half-smile tugging at his lips the whole time. He found out that she did, in fact, like sewing and wanted to design clothes. If only there were some way he could introduce her to his father! But that would never work out. He had no intention of telling SewSweets anything about himself that could reveal his identity. Making a new friend was awesome, though. In hindsight, he couldn’t remember why he decided not to respond to the comments on his page. Adrien yawned, ending on a happy sigh. It was late and he was tired.

---

Marinette harrumphed to herself and scrunched down into her movie theatre seat. She and Alya had quickly patched things up the day after their fight. They’d even made plans to go see an old movie on the big screen—one that starred Gabriel Agreste’s wife, Emilie. Unfortunately, now Alya had to babysit her sisters according to the text on Marinette’s phone. Marinette sighed. She hated going to the movies alone.

She looked around and realized she was going to be much more alone than she’d anticipated. There was exactly one other person in the theatre—someone down front, with blond hair.

The previews wouldn’t start for another ten minutes, so Marinette took out her phone to pass the time. She saw a new message from FashionForte and opened it eagerly.

Hope you have a great day! It read.

Marinette felt her heart warm. She tapped a response.

So far, so good. I’m at the movies, but my friend had to bail. It’ll be fun anyway. Her phone plinked as the message sent.

Down below, the blond shifted as a chime sounded quietly. Marinette tsked to herself.

They both needed to silence their phones, but they still had a few minutes. She couldn’t see his screen from her vantage point, but he was clearly typing.

Her phone chimed as a response from FF came in.

Nice! That sounds fun. I’m at the movies, too. Not something current, though. Old romance; I know that’s uncool, but I don’t care.

Marinette stifled a giggle. If only he knew. I’m sure you’re plenty cool, she teased. Friends hanging around your piano, just tripping over themselves to hear your latest composition.

She hit send, and heard the blond’s phone chime again a moment later. The person chuckled as they read the screen. Well, that was weird. Wait—FashionForte… was at an old movie? Texting her? Marinette’s suspicion grew as she watched the blond type, then heard her phone chime.

She opened the message.

Ha, whatever. I’m by myself, too. Needed to get out of the house.

The butterflies percolating in Marinette’s stomach plummeted. She stood up, just as the lights darkened. Crap! She had to know anyway. She stumbled down her row, thankful no one else was seated. Uncertain, she stopped at the row behind the blond and crept along, touching each seat she passed in the near dark.

The theatre’s corny “silence your phone, please” film was playing as she found the seat she wanted and leaned forward.

“Excuse me,” she hissed in a loud stage whisper.

The blond—close to her age, she noticed—looked up, startled.

“Are you—” she started, but he interrupted.

“Adrien Agreste. Yes, I am. Do you mind, though? I’m trying to watch this movie.” He turned back to the screen.

Marinette blinked, taken aback. It was Adrien! She felt her cheeks warm. How embarrassing. There was no way Gabriel Agreste’s son could be FashionForte.

“That’s not what I was going to ask,” she mumbled, sitting abruptly in the seat behind him.

Marinette tried to let go of her disappointment and bewilderment as the previews started. Adrien hadn’t recognized her in the dark, and to be fair, they’d only met once. It was possible he’d already forgotten about her. Oh, and clearly he was at the movie to watch his mother on screen, which explained his curt response. Marinette decided she shouldn’t take it personally.

She looked glumly at the preview reel for the theatre’s summer classics series. She’d been mistaken. But something sparked when she looked down at her typed but unsent message to FF. One eyebrow cocked, she hit send.

Adrien Agreste’s phone pinged instantaneously. Too excited to be embarrassed, she held her breath and leaned in as he lifted his phone. She could clearly see the notification that a message from SewSweets was unread.

Marinette fell back against her theatre seat, sucker punched. It was true! Adrien Agreste was FashionForte, a teen pianist and composer whose beautiful melodies accompanied her on her darkest and brightest days. That the heart of the artist was clothed in such a handsome facade was almost inconsequential. No, not inconsequential. It was the final nail in the coffin. She realized she’d been nursing a quiet crush on her new online friend, impeded only by his anonymity and the possibility he wasn’t who he said he was. Now the truth hit her like a wave of fuzzy soda bubbles all the way to her fingers and toes. Marinette took a deep breath, collecting herself.

She reached out a hand to touch his shoulder, movie or no movie, when the screen went dark in front of them. She looked up, only to find the view had been blocked by a mountainous unit of a man. Alarm flared in her stomach and she shrank back into her padded seat. The man’s bushy brows were drawn low and his lips made a frowning half-circle of displeasure. Marinette could almost see smoke issuing from his nostrils.

“Oh,” Adrien muttered as he gazed up and up at the human tree trunk standing in front of them. “It’s you.”

He sighed with a bone-weariness that confused Marinette. Shouldn’t they be screaming in terror? Maybe fleeing? Instead, Adrien meekly put his phone away and stood.

Wordless, the man gestured for Adrien to precede him from the theatre. Adrien shuffled along with his head bowed. With one last, longing look at the movie screen, he was gone.

Marinette stayed rooted to her seat, mind awhirl with all that she’d discovered. She tried to watch the film, but she couldn’t concentrate on it at all. Shaking her head in disbelief, she left the theatre as well and ran straight to Alya’s apartment.

Alya answered frantic knocking to find a wild-eyed Marinette on the other side of the door. Her best friend rushed in and threw herself down on the couch, interrupting the game the twins were playing. Surprised, Alya shut the door and turned back toward the living room.

“Marinette! I thought you were at the theatre.”

Chest heaving, Marinette dramatically threw her arm over her face. “Alya, I met FashionForte at the movie!”

“Whaaa?! How do you know?” Alya rushed to sit beside her.

“We were messaging before the movie started. I saw his phone with my name on it. My username, I mean! 100% positive proof. And Alya,” her voice dropped to a screech-whisper, “it’s Adrien Agreste!!”

“Who’s Adrien Agreste?” Etta asked.

“Snack time! Let’s get you two set up in the kitchen,” Alya announced.

Two snacks and a modicum of privacy later, Alya and Marinette regrouped in the living room, heads close together.

“So FashionForte is definitely Adrien Agreste? Wow, he’s one talented guy. I wonder what else he can do.” Alya had her phone out in moments.

The pair read an interview and bio that listed modeling, fencing, and piano as his main activities, as well as Chinese language studies.

“How can this possibly be the same guy I traded Mecha Strike jokes with the other day?” wondered Marinette.

“Hmmm. Well, as a reporter, you learn that the printed word isn’t always the full view of a person. It’s more important to remember that when you read bad things about someone, but in this case, Mr. Perfect is clearly also into video games. A shame that didn’t make it into the article.” Alya grinned and tossed her auburn hair.

Marinette groaned and closed her eyes. “Alya, what do I do? Do I play it cool? Do I tell him online? I have to meet him—or well, not meet him, I’ve already done that—but I have to get to know him. I was trying to deny it, but I was totally falling for him before I even knew he had a face. I mean, before I knew what his face looked like! And now he’s totally handsome, and that’s great—or is it worse?—and ugh, what do I do, Alya?”

Alya’s grin grew wider. “Wait, you’re crushing on him? How did I not notice this?”

Marinette opened her eyes and shrugged. “There was no point in mentioning it. He didn’t even message with me until you and I fought a couple weeks back. I think he felt sorry for me. But yeah, I was kinda um… romanticizing him from his music? Just being silly. And now he’s real and kinda awesome.”

“He was always real, but I get what you mean.” Alya tapped her finger against her chin. “Wait a minute. This is the same guy Chloe is always gushing about. Doesn’t he want to come to our school or something? And he was kind of okay at the hat competition, too.”

“Yeah, he was, wasn’t he? I never trust Chloe to be in possession of the facts, but that’s right—she’s talked constantly this year about whether he’ll show up, and then he never does. Do you think he’s been trying to enroll? What would stop him?” Puzzled, Marinette rested her chin on her hands.

Alya held her phone outward so Marinette could see. “Um, he literally has a song titled “I Wish I Were at School”. I think Chloe might be right—just this once.”

Marinette wrinkled her nose. “I thought that title was a joke.”

With a gasp, Alya clapped both hands to her mouth. She stood and grabbed Marinette by the shoulders, dragging her up from the couch. “Girl, I just figured out what we’re going to do! Here, listen to this…”

---

Adrien sidled up to the exterior stairs of Francois Dupont, looking in every direction at once for Nathalie or the Gorilla to appear. Nervous, he rubbed his hands together and mounted the staircase. Other kids were funneling into the entrance alongside him and for once, he wasn’t the center of anyone’s attention. He wasn’t sure if that felt good or not. Chin tucked down into his collar, he crossed the stone threshold.

Made it! He thought, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He darted to the right of the main doors and pressed himself against the wall. A final peek outside revealed none of his father’s employees. Had he really—finally—gotten away with it?

Adrien whipped out his phone and fired off a message. I'm inside the doors. I don't think they followed me.

That's great! SewSweets messaged back. I'm really proud of you, FF. Do you know which classroom you're supposed to go to?

Mme. Bustier, he replied. That was Chloe's class.

Then get going!

Adrien put the phone away, but as he stepped forward a girl with auburn hair and glasses took notice of him.

"Hey! Aren't you Adrien Agreste, the famous teen model?

Adrien backed away from her, but a boy nearby with a red hat and glasses perked up.

"Did you say Adrien Agreste? Here at Francois Dupont?"

The pair advanced toward him. He glanced at a staircase nearby, unsure where to go. A tiny blonde girl and a willowy brunette with streaks of purple in her hair stood up from a bench.

"Adrien? Really?"

"Wow!"

Adrien turned to bolt. If word got out this soon, he'd be back at the mansion within the hour! He started up the stairs, but a hand grabbed his upper arm. A girl with pigtails yanked him along behind her, away from the growing crowd.

"Locker room! Quick!" she hissed.

They ducked into the locker room and found it fortuitously empty.

"Thanks," Adrien huffed. "I only just walked in the door and I don't know my classroom or anything yet."

"No problem, FF. I've got your back."

They stood in silence, Adrien taking a moment to get his breath and the girl just staring him down. Something felt off to Adrien. He shouldn't—wait. She hadn't called him Adrien. She hadn't called him a name at all, at least, not one that anyone knew. He looked at the girl with dawning realization.

"SewSweets?" He asked in disbelief.

She tried to keep a straight face, but her lips gave a funny little wriggle and she burst out laughing.

"I'm so sorry, FF—I mean Adrien! That look was priceless."

"What is going on? You go here? To this school, with Chloe?" Adrien looked all around the room, but the two of them were still the only ones inside.

The girl grimaced at the name, but nodded. "Yeah, I know her."

"How did you know this was where I meant when I said school? Wait, how do you even know who I am?" Adrien found his head spinning a little and he sat down on a nearby bench. SewSweets sat next to him, concern threading the little wrinkle in her brow.

“Let’s start with the movies…” she said.

The pigtailed girl gave him a run down of recognizing him, then inexplicably blushed as she explained how she’d figured out he wanted to go to school and encouraged him to chat about it in Birdiemuse. In hindsight, his wish to join other teens at school wasn’t exactly a mystery, he had to admit. He noticed two of the kids from the courtyard poke their heads in around the time she was done explaining that they hadn’t actually mobbed him— it had been a set-up.

“So once you figured out who I was, it wasn’t too difficult to steer me toward another attempt at coming to Francois Dupont,” he stated, looking at her with new eyes.

The girl blushed even brighter and nodded her head, scrunching her eyes closed.

“I-I should apologize, Adrien. It wasn’t fair of me to push you to come here, but I didn’t know how else I could finally really meet you. I just want to be friends, online and in real life.”

Adrien stared at the small teen next to him. She looked so sweet and innocent. Who could believe such a calculating mind hid behind her pleasant facade? The girl nervously clutched her hands in her lap. She let go when Adrien threw back his head and laughed.

“I needed the push. Coming here is what I wanted! You just coordinated the timing, that’s all. And—hold on, what’s your name?”

“Marinette.”

“Marinette,” Adrien replied, smiling around the word. “I remember now. You won the hat competition. And stood up to Chloe in the process! Yeah, I suppose I can’t actually be surprised at what you can pull off when you set your mind to it.”

He grinned at her and was rewarded with a small smile, but Marinette wouldn’t meet his eyes. He dipped his head low, bringing his face close to hers.

“After the way you’ve encouraged me and been there for me, Marinette, I could never call you just a friend. Thank you.”

For the first time, the girl lifted her bright blue eyes and Adrien could see her worry drain away. She smiled and he couldn’t help but reach forward for a hug. Marinette hugged him back, arms wrapped around his ribs. Her hair smelled unusually sweet, like sugar. SewSweets, he thought, privately amused at the connection.

“C’mon, Friend, let’s go to class,” she suggested once they’d separated.

Adrien followed her out of the locker room, feeling the flutter of butterflies in his stomach. He took a deep breath to calm his racing thoughts and heart. No, Marinette was definitely more than just a friend.

#adrinette #llu writes #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous ladybug fanfiction

[mydarlingklaus]

Summary: Species of all kind are welcomed at the Whitmore Academy for the Supernaturally Gifted, but that doesn't mean they all necessarily welcome each other. Ambitious supreme witch Caroline Forbes shares a mutual loathing with arrogant yet mysterious vampire Klaus Mikaelson. A spiral of events occur when their two dueling worlds collide and they have to ask themselves, 'is it worth it'?

Chapter 3 is updated!! 

I just wanna say how humbling it is that this story is being so well received. I love reading your reviews and it’s what keeps me motivated to update as quickly as I have been so thank you. Can’t stress it enough!

Under the cut is the first part of the chapter but  I would appreciate if you leave reviews on my fanfic account. But let me know if posting the full chapter on both tumblr and my ff account is preferred.

The full chapter can be found here and reviews are appreciated, as always (: 

Time was passing slowly, too slowly.

Class was dragging but luckily it wasn't a difficult subject. It was a general magic course, basically beginner chemistry that every student of any kind was required to take before graduating. Caroline could practically do all of this in her sleep. What had her on edge was the news she heard just 20 minutes ago, that she had to share a class for the rest of the semester with the boy she loathes.

He seemed to be everywhere and wouldn't bug off, like a nagging pest. It was as if Klaus was making it his life mission to make Caroline's last semester as miserable as possible by forcing his way into every aspect of it.

She could barely focus on the lesson Professor Sommers was teaching with her brain scattered.

Glancing over her left shoulder she spotted Klaus who actually seemed to be paying attention to the lecture. The crease in his forehead that usually appeared when he was fixated on something visible and deep; Caroline recalled from the few times she's caught him staring at her. His eyes squinted in determination, full bottom lip trapped between his teeth and left hand rubbing his scruffy cheek while his right scribbled down notes.

- Rebel Klaus Mikaelson turned ideal student?

- Why are you studying him?

Caroline blinked out of her curiosity and discreetly cleared her throat while uncomfortably shifting in her seat. Her moves not discrete enough given that Klaus was now focusing on her from afar with an expression full of wonder; no smugness in sight. They both had some sort of radar that detected when the other was looking.

The professor continued her lecture while the two of them were staring each other down like it was a job.

- Is this foreplay for him?

Feeling like she was giving him enough of her time, Caroline rolled her eyes and turned back towards the front. Not seeing the victorious smile sketched on his face.

She straightened her back and sat up right to appear studious and focused, fighting the urge to look over at him again.

"You know, you two should do us all a favor and just fuck to get it over with already."

Caroline nearly jumped out her seat, not the least bit aware that Katherine was sitting right behind her with a teasing smirk on her lips.

She appeared out of nowhere and mouth practically in her ear; no consideration for personal space. Similar to Klaus's behavior.

- God I hate vampires.

Caroline kept her attention towards the front of the class as she harshly whispered. "Uhh, excuse me?"

Katherine rolled her eyes. "Please you and Mikaelson have been eye fucking each other for the past 10 minutes and not gonna lie, it turned me on."

"Oh my god. Are all vampires this perverted and nosy?!" Caroline strongly whispered, looking around to make sure no one was listening to them.

She shrugged. "Probably. All the ones I've met are but we're highly sensuous creatures after all, are you surprised?"

"I wouldn't know. Vampire 101 isn't really my level of expertise."

The brunette leaned forward. "Lets just say we have incredible senses and can detect sexual tension from a mile away and you and him definitely have a lot of it."

Her blush deepened.

"I have a boyfriend." Caroline clarified.

"And?"

She scoffed. "And he's the only one I have any kind of sexual tension with."

"That's not really how sexual tension works, babe."

Caroline swiftly turned in her seat. "First of all, I am not your 'babe'. I'm not your anything. Second of all, we're forced to live together and apparently have a class together but we are not friends, not even in the slightest so you cannot talk to me about things like this especially when they're not true."

"You're getting quite defensive over something that isn't true." Katherine said suggestively.

"Be- because I don't want any kind of rumors being spread about me." She stuttered. "I don't associate with vampires and never will so you and your buddy Klaus need to get a life and leave me alone." Caroline said angrily.

The brunette clicked her tongue against her teeth. "Just because we're both vampires doesn't mean we're bffs. He has no idea who I am, yet, and I only know him because it's kinda important to know who's the leader of my own faction."

"Ask me where I asked, or showed that I care." Caroline sassed before turning in her seat again with a dramatic sigh.

Katherine glared pressing her lips together as she sat back in her chair. "All I know is that the werewolf has never gotten you this hot and bothered and I've only known you for a day. Please feel free to correct me if I'm wrong."

The blonde stayed silent shaking away the obvious blush of her cheeks from Katherine's accusation.

- Me? Klaus Mikaelson? Sexual tension? I rather swallow a blade.

Klaus wasn't hideous, obviously. Definitely one of the most attractive boys she's ever seen with a sultry English accent to match, but his arrogance and murderous tendencies were a definite turn off. Most importantly Caroline was with Tyler, she was happy with Tyler, and it angered her that Katherine would think she'd feel that way about anyone else but him. It also sent paranoia through her mind, wondering if Katherine was the only one with these ridiculous accusations.

The professor turned on the lights, indicating the lecture was over, but made another announcement.

"For this project you will be assigned one partner, of my choosing, to conduct and present a spell. You can pick any type of spell you'd like as long as you get it approved by me first so, no hexing." She said with a small smile.

"I think she's referring to you, love." Klaus blurted.

Caroline didn't realize he was addressing her until she felt the whole class snickering while looking at her. The professor settled down the class instigating while Caroline's eyes transformed to arrows and Klaus's face was the target.

Oh, so badly did she long to slap the stupid smirk off his face until it was red and bare. She hated how much she allowed him to snoop under her skin but he was just begging for a reaction with every stupid comment he would make.

"Mister Mikaelson," The professor clapped her hands together. "What an honor to have you in yet another one of my classes this semester. Since you clearly are so enthused by this assignment, you'll be the first person to receive their partner."

Caroline began packing up her belongings so she could exit the classroom as soon as possible. Being in Klaus's presence any longer than necessary was already giving her a rash.

Her movements ceased when she heard her name, not sure if she heard the context correctly.

- No. No, no there's no way.

"What?" Caroline questioned.

"Miss Forbes, I said I'm assigning you as Mister Mikaelson's partner so get to it!" The Professor clarified. "That will be all class, I'll see you on Thursday." She dismissed.

Caroline was frozen and distraught. Face drained of color and mouth opened slightly.

"Guess you'll have plenty of time to work out that, nonexistent sexual tension huh?" Katherine giggled before throwing her backpack over her shoulder and standing from her desk.

No...no...

How can this be?

The whole class literally just witnessed how terribly chaotic these two are being in the same room, let alone working on a project together for the next two weeks.

- What the fu-

Caroline was a range of emotions from pissed to confused to pissed all over again, and she definitely was not going to allow Klaus Mikaelson to have any affect on her grade.

She quickly snatched up her bag and hurried down the stairs of the lecture hall to confront her professor who was propped up on the wooden desk reading through an essay.

Of all the professors Caroline's experienced in her academic career, Professor Sommers was definitely her favorite. Her first name Jenna, but she preferred students address her as a professor; understandable. She was only about 12 years older than Caroline, mainly why she connected best with the students but still required respect and it was given. The first year Caroline attended one of her seminars she thought she was a fellow witch due to her knowledge in magic, but learned she was actually a banshee; practicing magic was a hobby.

Given that she was of one species but followed the practices of another was admirable, at least for Caroline and felt she was a reliable ally to talk to about certain struggles. They had a great trusting relationship wrapped with mutual respect, but today was the day where they might finally butt heads.

Caroline sighed when she reached her desk area. "Professor Sommers?"

"Caroline." She acknowledged still staring down at her paper. "What do I owe the pleasure?"

Licking her lips nervously she sighed again. "I respect you Professor, you know that and would usually never question your judgment but I think it is very unwise to pair me and Mister Mikaelson together for this project."

"Mister Mikaelson? So formal, you'd think we were strangers."

"One could only dream." She mumbled.

Of course he was standing right behind her.

"I have to say Professor, me and judgy here never see eye to eye but I have to agree with her on this one. So shouldn't that be incentive enough?" Klaus claimed now standing next to an annoyed Caroline.

"Seriously?" Professor Sommers's eyebrows raised intriguingly, placing her paper on the desk and folding her hands in her lap. "And why is that?"

Caroline scoffed. "Did you not see how completely rude and disrespectful he was towards me in class just now? Imagine what I would endure for two weeks?!"

"Ah, playing the victim." Klaus sighed. "Very typical witch behavior."

Caroline slammed her hand on the desk and faced him with her other hand on her hip. "Yes, I am a witch and you're a bloodthirsty vampire which already makes us a lethal combination." Turning towards the professor again. "We can't even have a civil conversation without him insulting me."

"Pot meets kettle." Klaus growled.

"Our factions are not meant to collaborate. You understand, right?" Addressing her teacher.

"Are you two done, or should I leave the room so you can continue your marital bickering?" Professor Sommers asked rubbing her temples.

"Yes, I understand completely how things work around here, I use to be in your shoes remember?" She began. "When I attended this school it was the exact same routine. Everyone stayed with their own, but I swore to myself that when I began teaching I was going to break that cycle. That's why I decided to teach a general education course, so not only I interact with every type of student but so that you all can interact with each other as well."

Klaus and Caroline both crossed their arms as she continued.

"Vampires and witches have never gotten along, I know. I've read countless amount of history books on it and have witnessed it my whole life but I don't care. This is the place where all your prejudices go away if you want to get a good grade, but more importantly to get a better insight on the supernatural world you're living in. You need each other more than you think." She concluded.

Caroline scoffed. "I highly doubt I will ever need him for anything."

Klaus chuckled under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Well might as well get use to it because you're gonna need each other for this assignment. So you have two options: you can either be partners and guarantee yourself a good grade or you refuse to work together and receive an 'F' which means you fail the class and can't graduate this semester. Up to you?" The professor shrugged nonchalantly.

As if they had a choice.

The way both side eyed each other then dishearteningly conceded to the terms was proof of that.

"That's what I thought. See you both on Thursday." She smiled then waved them off as they walked out of class.

Klaus's shoulder purposely collided with Caroline's as they both attempted exiting through the door. His skin brushed hers chillingly making her jump back unexpectedly.

He didn't bother acknowledging her awkwardness even when she began walking ahead of him.

"You should watch where you're going, love." Klaus suggested.

The blonde growled, turning on her heel and charging back his friction until she was directly in his face.

"Listen we might be forced to work together but let's get some things clear: we are not friends okay?" She began. "We do not engage in any kind of conversation or interaction outside of this classroom and assignment, got it?"

Both of Klaus's eyebrows shot up at her demands. He wasn't sure if he was more offended or impressed.

Instead of pestering, he nodded his head. "Understood, love."

"Oh and another thing, you will stop calling me by those stupid pet names. My name isn't 'love." She hissed.

Klaus's smirk grew mischievously, making Caroline tense. His eyes appeared dangerous and amused staring back into hers.

The gulp she just initiated didn't go unnoticed by Klaus who tilted his head curiously walking towards her. His steps careful and light.

Caroline didn't realize how many steps he had taken until her back was now against the wall. Both his hands placed beside both sides of her head trapping her in his hold. The warmth of his breath fanned her reddened face. Her entire body felt hot and tingly from his stare alone. Dark eyes and dark thoughts.

Their chests nearly touching, hers heaving when she finally looked up at him. His trance took its usual effect as it dragged her in once again.

They were completely out in the open, bodies almost connecting against a drywall as if no one would walk by and see. Caroline should've been more aware of someone seeing them in this position but she found herself caring very little.

Not the way his full red lips complimented those sparkly eyes. Caroline had never been this close to him, noticing the stream of green around his iris and the blue-green hue masking the simple blue she's grown to know.

He hadn't touched her and they hadn't done anything, and nothing was going to happen, so why did she feel so dirty?

- Maybe because you aren't pushing him away?

Caroline blinked repeatedly, swallowing. "What are you doing?"

He grinned at the hoarseness in her voice. "Nothing, nothing at all. You're the one making all the rules here. You said no more pet names so I wanna know what I should call you then..." Klaus claimed. "Princess, sweetheart, Goldilocks..." He listed jokingly but sensually, twirling a strand of one of her blonde curls between his fingers.

The move so casual yet erotic.

Caroline's hands began to sweat at the feel of his finger slightly brushing her cheek. She balled her fists till her nails dug into her palms as her hair remained in his soft grasp.

She unintentionally looked down to his lips but quickly back up to his eyes.

The lump in her throat bobbed up and down from her harsh gulp. He always examined her so thoroughly it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

"My name is Caroline. That's what you can call me. Clear?" She demanded still fixated on his intimidating glare.

He smirked. "Such a prude. Pet names are much more entertaining." Klaus commented twirling her hair delicately. "But all right, I'll play by your rules but just so you're clear," Moving closer into her space. "For the sake of my grade and not being expelled for murder I'll let your attitude towards me go this time. But that's the only say you'll have from here on out. I don't take demands from anyone, especially not from a prissy judgmental witch who always has her knickers in a twist."

Klaus caught her wrist mid air when she quickly raised it in an attempt to slap him across the face.

Her fiery eyes matched his that were now the threatening golden hue.

She nearly winced in pain at how hard he was holding onto her. Through all their bantering and insults Klaus never seemed genuinely upset with her, until now.

Caroline was breathing heavily, not just from the rushed motion of her attempted assault but from the burning feel of Klaus's touch. Like his hand was burning a hole into her flesh. His grip tightened as he pulled her back from the wall and closer to his chest; still keeping a short distance between their bodies. Both their faces tense and red in anger. Their breaths hot and labored fogging the air between them.

The black spidery veins outlining his cheekbones oddly fascinated Caroline, she couldn't resist staring at them. How was he able to make them appear on and off? What was the purpose?

Everything about vampires didn't make sense to her.

Noticing her lingering stares, Klaus's expression relaxed and his grip on her wrist loosened. He didn't even realize he wasn't saying anything this whole time, or remember what he planned to say initially. As if the seeing into her eyes, closely, for the first time struck an uncomfortable cord of emotion through him.

Klaus took a deep breath retreating his vampire features. Even showing her that side of who he was made him feel weak, and Caroline Forbes of all people didn't deserve to see it.

Caroline felt she was snapped back to reality when his face returned to normal. The window of fascination finally closed.

He finally dropped her hand and balled his fists together and face in front of hers.

"I wouldn't try that again." His voice low and threatening pushing his hands off the wall to create a distance between their bodies.

Of course he disappeared by the time Caroline caught her breath and turned his direction. Her breathing mellowing down as she settled her body against the wall. She pushed her hair back with her fingers and licking her dry lips tiredly. Feeling like her skin was ablaze and the wind was knocked out of her from his stare alone.

And touch...

- What just happened?

The link to the rest of the chapter is above! Reviews are appreciated, thanks loves (:

#klaroline #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline drabbles #my writing #klaroline shippers club #klaroline fandom

[dawnblxde]

[Kingdom Hearts 3 Review]

Welp I’ve finally done it, finally played and finished KH3! - After intentionally delaying doing so with my day one copy after finding out for some silly reason - it lacked multiple world visits for development sake and had no Final Fantasy characters - so I decided to finish the games I was in the middle of then replay the entire KH franchise, except the ones you could watch. Gonna leave my thoughts below. Just in case there are those out there still trying to avoid legit spoilers!

There were good and bad elements to this game.. Plenty of my experience that I enjoyed, but I believe more so that I didn’t - which made me want to pull out my hair. But I like my head shaved, so that wouldn’t work lol I liked the graphics, beautiful but I knew a PS3 could handle them as the quality of Woody in this game was the same as him in Toy Story 3 (2010 Video Game). Enjoyed the gameplay, though it felt like a flawed, floaty and broken version of Kingdom Heart’s 2 near perfect improvement of Kingdom Heart’s gameplay. A problem was the fact that in the first two main games, even when I was level 50-60′s - I always felt like I could DIE. It was always a fear during major combat moments. I had to concentrate so much just to be successful. Even if I tried to be a higher level then recommending through grinding. I never felt like that in KH3, every moment was such a cake walk. Even the final battle. Did they even try. Regardless, I had a good time with the gameplay and the visuals. But I wasn’t as drawn in as previous games. It did the game no favors and was a massive flaw, it lacking Final Fantasy characters. We should of been able to explore Radiant Garden or had other worlds relevant to FF characters. They were really important to Sora’s development as a Keyblade wielder. Cloud and Squall for sure. Sora wouldn’t be who he is if he hadn’t encountered and spoke to them. They’d of been useful in multiple sequences. We deserved the next part to Cloud’s issues with Sephiroth. That wasn’t resolved. See how Squall/Leon and the others reacted and dealt with what was going on at Radiant Garden. They’re capable of other world travel, seeing how they’d react to some of the new worlds would of been great as well. Nomura confirmed the only Noctis he’d put in KH was his Noctis. Versus XIII Noctis. And interest in doing so. Yet he wasn’t in the game, when as an Anti-Hero of both light and darkness would of been interesting. Seeing he’d take neither side. Also has important factors in common with Rapunzel and Elsa. Seeing them relating over this would of been nice. The lack off FF adds to factors that make KH3 be disappointing experience - along with an enjoyable one. One of the things that still makes KH2 the best. Was how awesome it was to watch the Final Fantasy characters and Disney characters team up in the battle of 1000 Heartless. One of the best aspects about the franchise is the concept of it being a FF x Disney - a Final Fantasy and Disney collaboration. Multiple visits were really needed. Some of the worlds were quite enjoyable and not frustrating. But they all have different percentages of feeling rushed and not fleshed out enough due to one visit. And some annoyingly treated Sora like he didn’t matter. Just acted like making you watch rushed unfinished version’s of the original Disney movies. Sora’s just there like. Oh look, it’s Sora over there! Hi Sora! You don’t matter here! Shouldn’t be like that. The Disney characters should be well blended into the Kingdom Hearts plot and Sora in the plot of the Disney world. The story made me feel emotional, I enjoyed all the Kingdom Hearts parts, even if I felt some of them were rushed or not written well. Tears did leave my eyes. I liked how Aqua didn’t actually give into Darkness, it was Ansem’s fault. I liked the reunion, final battle sequences and all the stuff leading up to it. My favorite parts to praise are the deaths of all Org 13 members, each made me feel emotional and I wanted to see those character’s again reborn. Not so much young Xeraxnort. But Ansem and Xemnas? Oh the feels there, they were strong. I clapped. I felt there could be more with Larxene in the game in general, including her end. Luxord’s! Clap, really want him to come back and play cards with Sora. Riku Replica’s was great too. Both Riku Replica’s. Marluxa’s.. Vanitas’s was disappointing. However, these great moments aren’t enough for me to forgive those disrespected by this game. The one’s from the worlds you could visit. I’ll get to the unforgivable bits last. Toy Story’s new story and world were great. I loved exploring that world and playing through it. The development was great. Only flaw was what they did with Buzz, he’s stronger character then they take him for. He wouldn’t lose himself to the Darkness. Otherwise, everything was great. Pretty sure it’s my favorite. Hercules’s world was the level of quality I expected! It was decent, I miss the goddamn tournament's, Phil’s voice - but I did love the exploration of his city and meeting his father! Shame no boss fight with Hades's, they’re great and fun! Twilight Town sucked! I liked seeing the gang again, Uncle Scrooge and little chef. But that doesn’t make up for the fact that more then half of Twilight Town is cut and it doesn’t look like the same place! I liked exploring the entire world, not just a portion of it. Monsters Inc’s sequel to the first film with that world experience was great! I had a blast! I always wanted to see Sully’s reunion with Boo! It wasn’t perfect, but I had a good time! Pirates of Caribbean felt like it changed things from it’s canon, but it was an emotional blast! Jack Sparrow scenes and Will scenes, it was just great! The Big Hero 6 world! Oh it was great! It was emotional to lost Baymax in the film, to get him back was great! Kinda sucked to not see the big brother come back, but they’re saving that version of events for the sequel. Two Baymax’s. The only thing I didn’t like was how the whole cast was shrunk. Best example being Honey should of been taller then Jack Sparrow’s model, but she wasn’t. These worlds could of really done with multiple visits. Even more so the three left, that were wronged and disrespected. Don’t try to praise/defend what was done to them, they deserved better. Winne the Pooh deserved better. I liked not having to collect Torn Pages, but even if you didn’t have to. In the previous games, The Winnie the Pooh worlds lasted about an hour or so doing all the activities, helping out all Pooh Bear’s friends - stuff like that. Then you have KH3′s version, which is less then 20 minutes, doing the same activity three times. That was awful. Pooh’s universe deserved better. We deserved better. This is a massive flaw. Can’t forgive this. I love Pooh Bear. Now, as someone who love’s Rapunzel, not fond of how they treated her world either. It was basically the movie with bits cut out and skipped. She hardly interacted with Kingdom Hearts lore, Sora hardly stuck around her. It was just like. Now and then, Sora’s there. Why were they so scared of showing Rapunzel kissing Flynn? There were so many moments Sora should of got to interact with? Where were the two bad guy twins? Rapunzel just generally deserved better in this game. Last but not least, Frozen. Probably the worst world in the game. Because you spend most of it just falling off mountains. They hardly let Sora interact with Elsa or Anna. Or left them get involved in Kingdom Hearts lore. Sora would of been able to relate well to Elsa if they let it happen. You can’t explore the palace, Han’s has no lines and you’re forced to listen to Let It Go again with Sora basically just there. Like hi Sora! All I liked was Snow guard getting more of a role. Don’t even get to explore the city. Just the snowy place. No real development, it’s like - what was the point? There really was none. Why did we go there? Why was Larxene there? Elsa and Anna deserved better then this. Also while not all Disney worlds could of returned in KH3, due to their stories being settled. A lot definitely could! Also, Kairi deserved better then pretty much being a plot device, hardly getting development at all just to go poof. And the idea that Sora’s sacrifice to get her back doesn’t lead to the priority of everyone to find and/or bring him back somehow instead of chilling. Just made the whole ending sequence an OOC moment for me.

Verdict! 

Kingdom Hearts 3 is a decent game and fun experience, but it’s also a flawed mess. Like handling in a English report that gets a low C and just barely hits the passing grade. It is not the worst in the franchise, but Kingdom Hearts 2 easily beats it and so does Kingdom Hearts, the original one. Funner to play then Dream Drop Distance, Chain Of Memories, Recoded and the Roxas focused game! But the rest defeat it! I have no interest in a new game plus, roleplay wise I intend to amend the flaws. The Disney worlds that were wronged will get justice. Add back Final Fantasy and the missing Disney worlds. Make it what it should of been! I had a good time, I really did. But once was enough. After finishing, it now shocks me that an amount of people I can count on just one of my hands tried to either tell me KH3 was good enough or superior to all the other games, even KH2. My assumption now is, they hadn’t recently played the other games before playing 3, were lost in Nostagla or something else was going on. Just how.. How could this possibly beat the two other main titles? The only thing superior is the more then three team mates tbh. xD

7/10

I really feel like I’m being generous here, but if I went lower then I’d think I was being too harsh. It’s not FFXV and Bound by Flame 5/10 quality, but it’s certainly not The Walking Dead (by Tellale) and The Last of Us 9/10 quality. So this will have to do. Nomura, I strongly advise you to look back at Kingdom Hearts 2 and what made it so great, before you work on your next main title. 

#ooc #jesus it took me ages to write this

[sugarless-suki-writes]

You are the Moon

Fandom: Inuyasha Rating: M Word Count: 3,117 Chapters: 18 of ?

Read on FF||Ao3

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Chapter Eighteen: Home

Kagome and Kouga were sitting at the table early the next morning, a cup of coffee in front of both of them. She had her hands wrapped around the mug, letting the warmth seep into her fingers. They were discussing what they should do, or trying to at least. It was very early in the morning, after all, and Kagome was still exhausted, not really having the best rest. She had nightmares throughout the night, so she didn’t get much sleep, thus the coffee she slowly brought up to her lips and took a long drink of.

“I think maybe now would be a good time for me to go home.. just for a couple days.” She eyed Kouga’s reaction carefully. His arms were crossed over his chest and he looked at her with a hint of concern. “I’ve been meaning to visit my family anyway.. and I highly doubt they would follow me all the way to Tokyo.”

Kouga frowned slightly. “Can I at least send someone with you? Just to be safe?”

Kagome bristled, her lips thinning into a straight line and her grip on the coffee mug tightened. “I really don’t think that’s necessary. Again, I appreciate the concern but I’m just... I’m not comfortable being followed around like that.”

His frown deepened and he let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sorry I just...”

“I know..”

A bit of an awkward silence settled between the two of them. Kagome averted her eyes as she took another slow sip of coffee. Kouga reached for his mug and took a sip as well. Kagome set her mug down and cupped her hands around it once more, staring at the wall for a couple seconds before turning back to face Kouga. “I was considering bringing Shippou with me, but he starts at his new school tomorrow and I don’t wanna delay him any longer.” She waited for him to look at her, and when he did, she smiled at him. “And I don’t want you to be lonely... and I trust you to take care of him.”

He returned her smile with one of his own. “Yeah, of course I will.” Her smile widened and his softened. However, in the back of his mind, he was trying to figure out her scent. There was, of course, fear, sadness, and a slight hint of anger in her scent, but that sugary sweet smell was there too, something that would spike at, what seemed like, random. He still couldn’t figure out any context to this scent, and it was a constant mix in her natural scent now. It’s not that he minded the change, it smelled good, great even, but he was just frustrated that he couldn’t figure it out.

It was then that Kagome’s phone buzzed on the table next to her. She jumped slightly, not expecting it, and then reached for the device. It was from Kikyo. She unlocked her phone and read the message, her smile dropping into a smaller one. “Alright, Kikyo isn’t upset with me for canceling today. That gives me the day to get ready and pack, I guess.”

Kouga nodded. He didn’t want her to go, but he knew this would be best, until things calmed down somewhat. Despite this, it didn’t make it any easier for him to let her go. Kagome rose from her spot at the table, drawing the wolf out of his thoughts. He looked up at her as she stretched, then snapped back into a normal standing position.

“I’m gonna go ahead and get started. Would you mind making Shippou some breakfast when he wakes up?” she asked.

“No, of course I don’t mind.” he replied, giving her a warm smile. She returned it with one of her own, that sugary smell increasing in the most intoxicating way. She then disappeared into the hallway, and he listened as her door opened and closed with a soft click.

He immediately brought his elbows up to rest on the table and buried his face in his hands. His beast was pacing, running laps in his head, gnashing its fangs and ready to taste blood. It was still all riled up from yesterday and kept pushing him to do something. It didn’t really seem to care what, as long as he either chose between chasing down the thunder youkai and making them wish they had never been born, or scent marking Kagome, finding some way to claim her as his and thus ward off any and all other youkai. It was taking everything in him to control the beast, and this change in Kagome’s scent wasn’t helping. It just seemed to make things worse and he wasn’t sure why.

His claws dug into his scalp, but he was careful to not draw blood; he didn’t need Kagome worrying over him. She had bigger, more important things to worry about, like her safety. His wolf growled at him, urging him to keep her here. This was their den. This was safe. She needed to be next to him at all times.

Kouga held back the snarl that threatened to rip through his chest. There was no point in arguing with himself. The wolf would want one thing, and he would want another. What was most important at this point was doing what Kagome thought was best. He had hurt her and he needed to make up for that. So, he would do whatever she wanted. If she asked it of him, she could consider it done. He would do whatever it takes to make her happy, safe, and make up for the hurt he caused.

..::YatM::..

Kagome and Kouga had just dropped Shippou off at school and were heading to the train station. It had been a bit teary, mostly on Kagome’s end, watching Shippou go into the school building. Normally, the kit would’ve walked on his own to school, but Kagome had wanted to see him off on his first day, and also make sure he knew the way. Shippou was, of course, very sad that Kagome would be gone for a little while, but he had also been buzzing with excitement, eager to make friends, and thus had broken from the miko fairly easily. Kagome wasn’t hurt by it, though; she knew how excited the kit had been to start school again. She knew it must be nice to get back to some semblance of normalcy.

Kouga had insisted on carrying her bags, even though she only had two and one was a roller and she could’ve easily dragged it behind them herself. However, she hadn’t fought the wolf on it, knowing there was no point. They made their way to the train station in silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t completely comfortable either. It was some kind of.. odd mix of the two. Kagome didn’t want to open her mouth and possibly say something she’d regret before she went away for, at least, several days. Meanwhile, Kouga was distracted with her scent. He kept trying to pinpoint what this new smell was, but it muddied his senses in a way he’s never experienced before. It made things a lot harder for him.. He wanted to talk to her, ask her what was on her mind, hoping it would help sort everything out, but he was scared. He didn’t want to slip up again; he needed to stay on her good side and he needed to make up for what he did.

They both let out a soft sigh at, relatively, the same time. They both had so much to say, but no way to articulate it. They both were at war with themselves and their emotions. They both wanted to stay with each other. They both were head over heels.

The train station was fast approaching, and Kagome felt a small spark of panic rise in her. She didn’t want to leave, not just yet... She pulled her phone out of her pocket and released a small breath of relief. They had some time before her train arrived.

They made their way into the station and took a seat on a bench nearby. Kagome pulled her lower lip between her teeth, gnawing on it but taking care not to draw blood or cause any real damage. She had so much she wanted to say....

“Thank you.” The words scared the both of them. Kagome certainly hadn’t expected her mouth to act on its own accord.

Kouga looked down at her, a smile working its way onto his face. She could see the hint of nervousness hidden in it. “What for?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I... I dunno. I guess just... a mix of everything?” He raised an eyebrow and Kagome let out a weak laugh. She was going to have to use her words. “I know that I’ve been upset with you the past couple days, which I think is reasonable,” she said, quick to defend her feelings even though she knew she didn’t have to with him. He sat patiently and waited for her to continue. Kagome let out a small huff. “But, you’ve done a lot for me.. and I don’t think I’ve ever properly thanked you for it.”

Kouga went to open his mouth, but she was quick to stop him. “And don’t you say, ‘it’s nothing’, it’s not nothing. It....” Her eyes shifted away for a moment as she tried to fight the blush threatening to stain her cheeks. Strawberries began to weave into the growing sugary sweet smell. “It means a lot to me... You-” She stopped herself there, sealing her lips shut and pulling her hand away from his arm and turning away from Kouga slightly. When had she reached out for him?

His eyes widened as his mind began to race. What... Was she about to...? Before he could open his mouth to speak, her train arrived. Kagome quickly shot up from the bench and gathered her bags. She started to walk away, but turned around with a wide smile, cheeks stained pink.

“And thank you for carrying my bags. I could’ve done it myself but... well.. Thank you.” With a small wave, she stepped onto the train and he watched, still unable to move, still unable to speak, as the doors closed and the train began to leave. That sweet, sugary, intoxicating smell lingered where she had been, lingered all around him. It was then that it all seemed to click. Did she... return his feelings? A huge grin started to spread across his face as he pieced it all together. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, just in case he was wrong, but he was about 90% sure that Kagome felt the same way about him, and the wolf had never been happier.

..::YatM::..

“So, you’re running away?”

Kagome let out a sigh, tucking her phone between her cheek and shoulder as she adjusted her bag on her other shoulder. She had just gotten off the train when Sango called her and started accusing her of running away from her problems.

“I’m not running away. I just need some time to think... and I need to see my family.”

There was a small pause before the slayer replied, deadpanned, “So you’re running away.”

“I’ll hang up on you, you know.”

“Alright alright, fine. Jeeze...”

A smile worked its way onto her face and she let out a small chuckle. “Aren’t you supposed to be catching criminals or something?” she teased.

“Not today, I have the day off.” Sango sounded quite pleased and smug.

“That’s great! Gives you some time to relax.”

Sango hummed her agreement. “So, how long are you running away for?”

Kagome rolled her eyes. “Again, I’m not running away, and I’m just going to be here for a couple of days, a week max.”

“Well, it’ll be nice to see your family and relax for a while.”

“Yeah, it really will be. I’m gonna miss Shippou, but you know I can’t take him from school.”

“Yeah, I understand.”

There was a small pause here and Kagome nibbled on her lower lip as she waited for the signal for the crosswalk. “So... can I talk to you about something? And don’t you dare tease me about it either!”

“What is it Kagome?” To Sango’s credit, she sounded genuinely concerned.

Kagome shifted her weight from one leg to the other as she tried to find her words. “So.... Kouga walked me to the train station, of course, and.. well... I kind of... almost confessed to him.”

There was a pause and Kagome could just see the smile that she knew was working its way onto her best friend’s face. “Oh really?”

“You promised, Sango.”

“I don’t remember promising anything. I just asked what was wrong.”

Kagome groaned, running a hand down her face as she crossed the street. “Sango please. Work with me here...”

“Alright alright. So, what happened?” she asked. Kagome was grateful that the slayer let it go.

Taking in a deep breath, Kagome then began to explain everything that happened over the past couple days, from the day of the attack to just about an hour or so ago. Sango stayed quiet for the most part as the miko explained, letting her get everything out and only providing sounds of confirmation. Kagome was grateful for that. Once she was done explaining, there was a bit of a pause. Kagome chewed on her lower lip nervously.

“Well…that certainly is quite… eventful.” Sango finally said.

“Yeah.. It’s been pretty crazy.”

Sango hummed, and Kagome could tell that her best friend was deep in thought. “I’m going to see what I can do… put this new information in the case we have. I know you said you don’t want me taking this one, but this is pretty serious Kagome. I think the department is going to need my skills on this one, regardless of what you wish of me.”

Kagome frowned. She was afraid this would happen… She knew that Sango was even more stubborn than she was at times, so she knew there would be no point in arguing with her. The miko let out a sigh, stopping in front of the steps that led up to the shrine, her home. “Alright…. I know I can’t stop you, just.. be careful okay? They’re dangerous… and I think there might be more than just them. Manten talked about getting demoted… So I don’t know what’s going on exactly, but it might be bigger than we initially thought.”

“Did you tell anyone else this?”

“Gods no. If I told Kouga he never would’ve let me leave.”

“That’s fair… but you should probably let him know at some point. He’s a wolf youkai after all. You know how protective they can be.”

“I.. I don’t actually.”

There was a small pause before she heard Sango let out a small breath. “You remember how protective and jealous Inuyasha would get over you?” Kagome frowned, not really wanting to remember, but she nodded, remembered she was on the phone and let out a hum of agreement. “Wolves are 10 times worse.”

Kagome’s frown deepened. “I see….” It certainly explained a lot.

“I don’t believe he’s reached that point with you yet, but if you do confess to him and you guys start dating, expect him to be worse than Inuyasha was. Just.. putting it out there so you know. And you know if you have any questions you can always ask me. It’s not easy dating youkai.”

“No kidding..”

“It’ll be alright Kagome. I promise.”

A small smile soon replaced her frown. “Thanks Sango. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Talk later.”

And with that they hung up. Kagome stared at her phone screen for a couple moments before letting out a sigh, shoving the device in her pocket before turning her attention to the stairs in front of her. She was finally home… It felt like it had been years… She started to make her way up the steps; the trek was a bit longer than Sanko Shrine, but because she’s had a lot of practice recently, with her training and all, she made the trip with ease. She was only slightly winded when she reached the top of the steps, wiping a bit of sweat off of her forehead with the sleeve of her cardigan.

The shrine looked just the same as it had last time she visited. A grin broke out across her face as she stepped forward, approaching the house. Gods she had missed home… Before she even reached the halfway point to the house, the door burst open and out stepped her grandpa, waving sage around.

“Begone, youkai!” Kagome snorted, some things never changed. He paused mid-action, squinting as he looked in her direction. “Kagome? Is that you? Why do you have a youkai aura around you, girl?” he asked, demanding and angry.

Kagome rolled her eyes. “It’s good to see you too Grandpa.” she replied, walking towards him. When she reached him, she bent down slightly to wrap her arms around him. He let out a huff and returned her hug. When she pulled away, she looked at the sage in his hand. “Grandpa… you didn’t even light it? How are you supposed to do a smudge when you didn’t even light it?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow.

His mouth opened as if to reply, then he closed it. He stood there for a couple moments before pointing accusingly at her. “Why haven’t you come to visit sooner? We were all worried about you, you know!”

Kagome laughed heartily and walked past her grandfather, entering the house behind him. She could hear him calling after her, but she just rolled her eyes. He’d calm down in a moment. As she entered the kitchen, she saw her mother turn around from the sink to look at what was causing all the commotion. “Kagome! You’re home! It’s so good to see you!” She dried her hands quickly before approaching her daughter.

“Mama…” Kagome’s eyes welled with tears as she met her mother halfway, the two enveloping each other in a tight embrace. “I’ve missed you so much, Mama…”

“I’ve missed you too, sweetie.”

With one last squeeze, the two parted but still held each other at arm’s length, smiling warmly at each other, her mother squeezing her arms gently, reassuringly. It made Kagome feel safe, happy, at home. A couple tears spill down her cheeks. Kagome could hear her grandpa shuffle in, muttering under his breath. She’d cheer him up later with dinner. “I have so much to tell you about…”

#inuyasha #inuyasha fic #koukag #kougome #kougkag #chapter fic #kogkag

[harikaw]

FANFICTION

Photo is just her to caught your attention xD

Chloe is @faithcael, I’m max. Photographer Garnet C. Angeldust Photographie

So posting here my new fanfiction ! First chapter of it ! It’s a commission. Sorry for grammar and mistakes, I’m not english native. You can read it on FF too !

The price to give: 

She couldn’t believe it. Her gaze was lost in the landscape rolling in front of her eyes. Suddenly she was feeling so numb. At the exact moment she could heard the radio saying it. A deep and heavy silence had settled in the cabin of the pick up and she could have swear that she even heard the leather of the steering wheel when Chloe was clamping it, getting anxious listening to the voice on the radio.

« Arcadia Bay one year anniversary is coming, the senator is doing a huge celebration to open to memorial for the one who died on this terrible event. »

Max's heart squeezed up a little more while Chloe cut of a dry gesture the car radio.

« I’m glad we see your folks. Was nice. » adressed her to the brunette with a distant tone.

« Chloe… »

She probably could hear to Max’s voice that she was worry and was going to ask or tell her something about all of this. And she didn’t want it, Max knew that most of the time, the tattoo girl was just escaping the subject. How could she blamed her ? She was doing the same.

The pupils of the photographer settled sadly on the punk. She noticed that this one did her best to hold on crying and concentrating on the road, but the shivers which shook the fingers to wrinkle on the steering wheel betrayed her.

« It’s ok Max. I’m fine. We’re almost home anyway.»

But she knew she wasn’t. She could feel a hundred miles away when the Price wasn’t ok, especially on this topic. Many have died on the storm the hispter caused to save her best friend a year ago. Most of the people Max knew on Blackwell weren’t here anymore. Chloe suffered lost too. If David was safe and ok, taking care of Jefferson’s corpse in the dark room after saving Max, Joyce didn’t have the same luck. She was into coma for a long year now, and the doctors weren’t really optimistic about it. David was working his ass off to pay the hospital bill, and, ironically, that the thing that made her step daughter and him stop their stupid war. They stick together ever since, doing the best for her. Kate was alive, safe in the hospital back in time when she tried to kill herself. Alyssa and some other survived too, but most of them just didn’t give any news.

Chloe and Max moved in Portland, and the military followed them . It was actually strange that the storm only hit Arcadia, but Max always thought that it was chaos theory making fun of her, they’d never find a real explanation anyway so eventually, she stopped asking herself question that were torturing her even more. Most of Arcadia’s survivor moved very far away, wanted to cut out with bad memories and pain.

Arcadia was rebuilding tho, and it was a matter of time before the last trace of this awful event will only be the monument.

The two young women were also on the Portland road after visiting Max's parents in Seattle. Those last ones had shown themselves as usual, more than concerned and protective of them and Max had more than appreciated the visit that had put a balm to the heart. Not enough to cure her guilt, but enough for her to forget about it for a while, until now.

Max sank deeper into his seat, his muscles tensing. The rest of the trip was in a heavy and heavy atmosphere, neither of them daring to add anything more.

When they arrived at the little house they rented-she only had a bedroom, a bathroom, a toilet, a small living room, and a kitchen-the tension had not subsided and Max could feel his stomach twisting as the punk parked and slammed his door. She watched, hurt, the punk move away to open the door of the house and rush into it and she followed her.

« Chloe, if you want to talk… »

« I’M FINE ! »

Her tone was so dry that the Caulfield felt his heart stop. Her eyes were black, and Chloe herself realized that because she was softening, guilty.

« I’m sorry Max… »

The brunette bit her lip, this kind of situation made her crazy. She did not know what to do to relieve the pain of her best friend, which she was responsible for. Sighing for a long time, she gave her a weak smile.

« Don’t worry. I’m going to take a bath. »

The blue nodded silently, looking guilty as Max moved away to run the hot water, undressing and entering the almost boiling water. Her muscles needed to relax and she sighed in relief despite the water that burned her skin, as for a second, relieved of all that could bother her. She closed her eyes for a moment, until dull noises followed by a crash startled her, followed by cries of despair from punk. Panicking, the brunette immediately came out of the water, grabbing a t-shirt and panties to get dressed simply and quickly, not even taking the time to dry, and join his best friend who was in full frenzy of destruction.

The objects were flying and smashing against the walls under her cries and tears, and the sight literally tore the heart of the Caulfield which froze in shock a few seconds, helplessness before finally recovering and rushing towards her, holding the wrist of punk to break an umpteenth object. Chloe's arcade was bleeding and running down her face.

« Chloe stop ! You’re bleeding. »

The tattooed woman stared her eyes full of tears and anger, and pushing the hipster, she slammed the cup she was holding on the ground before dropping to the floor, despair weighing too heavily on her shoulders, sobbing even more as Max crouched at her height, pulling her against him in a firm embrace, refusing to let her escape once again. But this time the punk did not intend to flee and she clamored even to the brunette as if it was the last time she could.

« I’m so sorry Max. I’m sorry… I fucked up…I fuck up everything… All of this, this is all my fault… They all died… were hurt… because of me… Mum would be ok…»

Max's heart stopped and her throat tightened. They never really talked about all that. Both had always been evasive since Max had made his final choice. It was a year since their souls were in pain and their consciences too heavy with unacknowledged things, repressed guilt.

« I should have died, everything would be ok…»

Her voice was trembling and shattered by the sobs and to hear her, Max simply felt his heart shatter like never before. Pulling back just enough to fix Chloe, she looked at her, her face betraying the pain she felt at that moment hearing such a word.

« I wouldn’t be ok… Chloe… this was not your fault, this was my choice… I’m the only one to blame, please don’t do that to yourself, if you got to hate someone, this is me… »

Max felt the tears win her too. She had destroyed so many lives, so much family for sheer egoism. And yet, never, she had never managed to regret this decision when her eyes were on Chloe. She knew she had made the "right" choice, she would never have been able to continue without punk at her side, she could never have let her die in the bathroom, having forgotten all her things that she had lived , all her things she had to tell her.

Chloe lifted her eyes drowned by tears in the hipster's, sliding her fingers gently on her cheek, pulling him a shiver.

« I’ll never blame you… You saved my life Max.. It’s just... I wasn’t worth it...»

This time, Max grabbed the face of the Price firmly.

« You’re worthing everything on Earth, Chloe. I would do it over again and again if I had another chance to change the past. I would ALWAYS chose you. »

Punk's tears continued to flow, but her sobs seemed to have calmed down, she looked at Max lost, how could she say that? She who played the hard constantly Max had always known that this little game hid a cruel lack of self-confidence.

« How can you be so sure ? »

She was trying to understand but could not, her, who would have given the sky and stars for the brunette yet, she could not believe that someone could do the same for her.

« Because I lost you so many time… When I moved away, when Nathan killed you, then Jefferson… You have no idea how awful it was… I can’t live this life without you Chloe, and I know it was selfish to chose you, but never say you didn’t worth it. You worth everything to me… I’d give my life for you if it could save you and only you…As much as I would give it to see you smile again…»

She had fought so hard to have her alive, by her side. She would never stop bringing her back and could never bring herself to sacrifice her, the same idea made her sick and it was her turn to sob. The punk looked at her as if she were stunned by her words, as if she was struggling to believe that all of this was real. She ends up drying her tears and sliding her fingers on Max's neck, slowly approaching his face to hers to capture his lips tenderly. Max closed his eyes automatically, responding to the kiss in a long sigh of relief. Chloe did not blame her to the point of being disgusted by her and his selfishness, and if they had never spoken, the feelings of the hipster had only grown since their departure from Arcadia.

The hispter could feel his heart throbbing like never before. It was not their first kiss, but their lips had not met since that ridiculous I dare you in the old room of Chloe, and it had another taste, more bitter and sad, and yet it was able to ignite his whole being. In a year their relationship had not really changed or evolved. Chloe was more shy than she appeared, and she never took the first step towards Max, though she had left her with a lot of hints in her own way. Max, meanwhile, had never found the right moment, she had let the remorse prevail and the depression sink. Their relationship had stagnated into a much deeper friendship because deep down, both of them knew very well that the other wanted more. But that kiss was chaste and wise, sad under the sobbing of the hipster and the breath still broken by the negative emotions of punk.

The punk ends up receding, the cheeks red, the look away, his pride soaring.

« I’m sorry for that I just… »

Max did not give him time to finish, grabbing his three-bullets necklace to bring her closer to her, kissing her in turn with a little more passion, her lips pressed hard against hers. She did not want that sorry kiss, she did not want that sad and haunted kiss from the past. At first the punk seemed astonished and surprised, and she could feel her heart stopping for the initiative of her best friend, always more courageous than her, and against her lips, she forgot her pain, she forgot everything, her brain becoming white, her heart exploding with such violence yet jubilant. Sliding her fingers into Max's hair, she greeted the kiss with the same passion before both of them moved back, breathless, their eyes immersed in each other.

« So… you’re sleeping in my bed tonight ? »  dropped the punk with a mocking smile hiding behind his irony the roar of feelings that stomped on him and his sudden embarrassment.

The brunette was amused and smiled, rolling her eyes. They had always slept together. She felt relieved that the atmosphere relaxes in this way after finally breaking the ice

« You mean my bed ? The one you’re always in ? »

« Shut up. » replied the punk smiling, eyes still wet

She scratched her neck nervously, and while Chloe still played the badass girl, Max knew she did not know what to say after that kiss, and the hipster's heart still had not recovered. She knew that one day soon they would have to talk about this growing tension between them, the force that drew them towards each other, but the moment was not yet right.

The brunette got up, followed by blue eyes that straightened immediately, catching the arm of the brunette as if she was suddenly afraid she ran after what they had to share. Her thoughts were still confused, and even though Max had kissed her, she had no idea if she had offered him for pity or anything else.

« Don’t go… » hesitated Chloe, in a breaking whisper, gently pulling the hipster closer to embrace her.

Sliding on the tip of her toes, Max put her fingers on the cheeks of her best friend, her lips grazing his own again, she could feel the hot breath of punk and she hold a shiver. Her smell made her completely crazy already maddening her senses that required a new kiss, so close to his lips.

« I’m not going anywhere Chloe. »

Price's gaze became more intense and the small smile she sketched before capturing her lips again made her just as melt, long sighing against the lips of punk as she pressed her against her, the kiss Igniting much more quickly than the previous ones, while Chloe gently pushed her back into their room. The same despair united them, but there was something else that they both had always been afraid to say for fear of destroying everything. But for now, the Caulfield surrendered herself in the arms and lips of punk, their kiss being much more passionate, seeking more contact, while Chloe was cautiously lying on their bed, lying down gently against her taking hold of his arms so as not to crush him, not leaving his lips for a moment. Her tongue finally slipped between the lips of the hipster who felt his heart racing like never before, her belly writhing as she responded without delay to this new invitation, her tongue joining hers, provoking more intimately, their saliva is melting without embarrassment as she could feel the punk moaning warmly against her lips as her body pressed against hers.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand suspence for the next part :3  

#pricefield #life is strange #fanfiction #chloe price #max caulfield #commission