#they never let him emotes or do anything before ch8 but i like that they give him a LITTLE character here

[spiritofjustice]

omg i’ve never seen these lines before??? i like that Leder smiles at Kumatora, that’s wholesome

#Psy's no punctuation posts #mother tag #m3 notes #they never let him emotes or do anything before ch8 but i like that they give him a LITTLE character here

[space-helen]

Back to Vegas - Chapter 7

Words: 1907

Pairing: Nick Stokes x Reader

A/N: There’s one more part after this! Thank you for all of the support to far it means a lot

CH1   CH2   CH3   CH4    CH5   CH6  CH7  CH8

_______________________________

Nick rested his forehead on your bed as he clutched your hand within his two as he listened to the beeping of the machinery around you. He’d been waiting around the hospital for three hours before he was allowed to come and sit with you.

It’d been nine hours since that point. Nine long hours of him sitting by your side as you slept and he talked to you. The Doctors said you’d pull through and would wake up in your own time but there was no telling how long that’d take and only you could decide that for yourself.

They’d told Nick in detail exactly what Hannah had put into your body but the only thing he took away was “You were extremely lucky to get Y/N here on time. Any later and the result wouldn’t be the same.”

The opening of the door had Nick sitting upright, he moved one hand but kept the other intertwined with yours. Greg, Sara, Catherine and Grissom all filled into the room taking various positions around your bed.

Catherine sat opposite Nick while Sara sat at the end of the bed with Grissom at her side and Greg took a seat not far from Nick. Nick angled his body slightly so he could see all of them. They instantly noticed his disheveled complexion and very red eyes from crying.

“We heard she’s going to make it.” Catherine was the first to break the silence

“Yeah.” Nick nodded to himself and looked at you before looking back at Catherine. 

“She’s strong Nick. She’s out of the woods.” Sara added as she looked over you. She could see the bruises littered on your exposed skin from the struggle and from the force at which Hannah had injected you, your hand that Nick wasn’t holding was also bandaged up.

“She still needs to wake up though.” his words were barely audible and his eyes began to tear up.

“Nick I know you want to stay by her side but you haven’t eaten in hours. Let one of us sit here while you get a bite to eat” Catherine tried to persuade the man.

“I have to stay with her. She stayed by me.”

“We really don’t mind.” Sara added.

“You don’t understand.” he looked around the room “She didn’t leave my side so I won’t leave hers. I know it’s not as severe but I just can’t. What if I leave and-” he stopped to try and compose himself by taking in a deep breath and letting it out.

“The case?” Grissom broke his silence.

Nick looked at the man with shiny eyes and nodded “Word has probably got around to you guys about a case Y/N and I worked that really brought us together. I think only Greg knows the extent of the case really and even I spared him some details.” He looked at you and started to rub a pattern on your hand with his thumb and he teared up a little but was able to keep his emotions in check. 

“To cut to the chase we ended up in a shootout. We were hiding together and trying to keep calm. Some punk found us and shot me twice, once in the leg and the other in the shoulder. Luckily the guy was shot down before Y/N was shot otherwise we wouldn’t be here now, either of us. She tried to stop the bleeding the best she could and just stayed with me and re-assured me I’d be ok while we waited for the EMT’s.”

Nick’s voice was starting to get wobbly and show emotion, Greg moved to sit on the edge of his seat and put his hand on Nick’s shoulder and squeezed it comfortingly.

“She didn’t leave my side the entire time. She got her injuries checked out and that was about it. I nearly bled out, hell I was even dead for a short time in surgery. Y/N sat by my bedside for God knows how long until I woke up. After that she still barely left my side until I ordered her back to work. I didn’t want to tell any of you guys because I didn’t want to worry you.”

Greg moved his hand from Nick’s shoulder “We understand but you should have told us.”

“I know I know.” Nick took in another breath “She stayed with me through recovery and rehabilitation, I had to basically re-learn how to walk for a little bit because the bullet had torn through my leg badly. It’s all fine now. It really took me no time to build back the strength. There were a couple other incidents after that and then we were going on our first date.”

He sucked in a breath “I really don’t know what I’d do without her.”

The room stayed silent for a moment while Nick just looked at you, eventually he let go of your hand and he twisted for his coat which was laid over the back of his chair and rummaged through his pockets “I guess it’s just my luck.” 

He pulled out what he was looking for and clutched it in his hand “I was just about to ask her to marry me and everything. I nearly did last night but… I changed my mind because I wanted to tell you guys first. I’ve had this ring since way before we even came to Vegas.” a tear rolled down his cheek and his throat was sore with emotion “In hindsight I really should have just done it. Last night was perfect.”

Catherine was soon standing up and moving around the bed and opening her arms to give Nick a tight embrace “It’s ok Nicky. She’ll wake up soon.” the woman could feel her own tears threatening.

Sara approached the pair in the embrace and joined in with Greg soon following and Grissom approaching the huddle and putting his hand on Nick’s shoulder. Grissom looked down at you before looking back at Nick.

“I really think she’s going to make it Nick. I know my words mean nothing but she’ll wake up, even the Doctors said that.” he tried to reassure.

The huddle was soon breaking up as Nick completely composed himself and flopped back in the chair by your bedside. Grissom and Sara had offered to feed Sam and go back to the lab to continue working the case and Greg offered to bring him some food before going back to the lab.

Catherine was the last to leave a short while after the others.

“I should head to the lab but I want you to know something.” She moved to the edge of her seat and grabbed Nick's hand from across the bed. “I could just see how well you were made for each other as soon as you walked in through the door. You know I’ve had my fair share of love stories and after a while you just know when someone’s relationship is heading for trouble or destined to be happy. You guys are made for each other.” She squeezed his hand and gave him a smile.

“Thanks Cath.” he mustered a sad smile of his own “That really means a lot.”

She stood up and grabbed her belongings “I mean it Nick. I thought she was pretty good when I met her but I think she’s an amazing woman now. I’ll catch you after my shift. Please message me if anything happens.”

The man nodded and made his promise to Catherine to message her if anything changed.

The room was not silent but after Catherine left it felt as if it was. He sadly smiled at you and leaned forward to give you a quick kiss to the cheek before leaning back in his chair.

It’d been long enough for Greg to stop by with food and Nick to eat and clean up before you woke up. Nick was getting comfy in his seat after using the bathroom when you began to stir.

“Y/N” his voice was full of enthusiasm and excitement. “You’re at the hospital.” he tried to comfort you knowing how weird it could be to wake up and not know where you are.

“Nick?” your eyes were fluttering open and trying to focus on the man “I feel dizzy. Where am I?” your words slurred.

“The hospital Darlin’. Let me go grab a Doctor.” he stood in a scramble and soon was returning with a Doctor who made him wait outside the room.

Ten minutes later he was back at your side. “Hey.” you weakly spoke

“Hey.” he lowered himself into the chair next to you and smiled. “How you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been hit by a truck.” you admitted, there was a dull ache in your head and your body hurt all over. 

The man nodded in response and let a silence hang for a moment. “I was so worried.”

“I know.” you reached for his hand and curled your fingers between his. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m sorry for bringing you to Vegas in the first place.”

“Never apologise for that. It isn’t your fault. We did the right thing coming back and I don’t regret it. I should have just been more careful at the scene.” 

“You remember what happened?” he asked curiously, secretly hoping that you did so he didn’t have to recount the moments.

“Yeah. It gets hazy after she got me the second time and I have patches of memory of a car journey.”

He nodded sadly “Yeah. I rushed you here. I really thought I’d lost you. I don’t know what I would have done if I-”

“I’m here now. I’m ok.” you reassured the man “The Doctor said I needed to stay in for another couple of days to monitor me because they really don’t know what other effects the combination of drugs she gave me will have.”  He looked you in the eyes, relief and emotion present in his. “I love you Nick.”

“I love you more.” he said leaning forward to place a kiss on your forehead “promise me you won’t go alone to a scene again.”

“I promise.” you yawned and felt yourself getting tired.

“Am I really that boring?” the man teased

“Of course not.” you gave him a weak laugh “You look pretty tired and I could really do with a cuddle.” you admitted’

“Y/N I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Why not?” you pouted slightly “Look here.” you started to try and shift over in the bed.

“Hey, slow down. It’s alright I’m comfy here.”

“You might be but that doesn’t stop me from wanting a cuddle.” you adjusted yourself over in the bed so he had some room “Get up here why don’t you.” you said tapping the bed.

“If we get caught-”

“I’ll take the blame.” the man lay down next to you and you cuddled up to his chest and let your eyes fall closed.

The man felt himself get slightly emotional when he wrapped his arms around you and brought you to his chest. He placed a kiss on the top of your head and rested his head down on the pillow. He couldn’t even begin to express the way he was feeling right now. A tear rolled down his cheek as he closed his eyes 

“Thank you for saving my life.”

Next Chapter

Tag List: (open)

Nick Stokes: @wanniiieeee  @pumpkinfriend

CSI:

#nick stokes x reader #csi x reader #csi fic #csi imagine

[crimsonandcloverwrites]

bhah ch8 reread as fast as i can before ch11 arrives help

aww Dani nervous for Jamie’s big race is so cute

i love Dani’s whole photography thing n her wanting to document their lives it’s so sweet

i’m suddenly stuck on the whole blue as a theme thing n now I’m noticing it everywhere/remembering their tent was blue and now their school colours are blue and Dani’s car is blue and I think Jamie’s house is blue. and of course THE SCRUNCHIE

god I love track star Jamie

flip these two are cute together

‘a favour for good luck’ god idk why this gets me so much I think like... Dani giving her this little piece of herself is so wholesome but weirdly loaded i just love it

the carson eddie banter is so funny sdkdhfgj

Dani is such a lil ball of emotions I’m obsessed w her feeling a million things while she watches Jamie

she’s a winner baby!!

also love that this is her setting the record that was mentioned in the prev chapter we love lil details being followed through

Jamie going straight for Dani when she won god that’s so cute

aw Jamie gets a kiss (and a whole gay crisis lol) for her win how sweet

oh no the beginnings of Dani and Eddie

pls this is so soft Carson and Judy so proud of Jamie

I just ate so many carbs I am finally properly fueled for this reading sprint (solidarity w Jamie)

aw Nan quietly proud of her

fkjdfh Dani and Jamie playing footsies at the table

god Nan n Jamie are such a force together truly terrifying to be stuck in the middle of I’m sure. Also fuuuck cld u imagine grown up Jamie and Nan interacting and Jamie in particular being a bit more chilled out and them getting along a lot better but finding their way back to silly little bickering arguments that are really just them knowing they can do that w each other and still be ok at the end of the day bc they love each other ouch it hurts to think about :(

lmao Jamie losing her mind at the sight of Dani in a towel lol I can just imagine her having the same reaction when they’re together too

oooh is the watch from Jamie’s great uncle (? Nan’s brother that she was named for right?) that’s so cool

ugh I want Dani to get her travel adventures so bad

god everytime Dani touches Jamie or says something really sweet or just gives her a look Jamie is suffering so bad

THE MIXTAPE (LITTLE BLUE DUDE SCREAMING AT THE SKY.MEME)

oh god they’re really just gonna curl up in Jamie’s bed and listen to this declaration of love mixtape while Jamie plays with Dani’s hair hold on a minute wait a second

oh no the eddie of it all

aw he brought her flowers (like I am not here for their relationship overall but he does do some sweet things sometimes and he does clearly care abt her)

ugh of course Jamie helped pick them out tho this whole situation is so complicated

god I’m so sad for both of them that their relationship ended up like this. Dani loses that friendship she cherishes so much when it becomes something else she never wanted and Eddie is in love w a girl who will never love him back that way. it really is heartbreaking

oh god the house party time for chaos

Jamie my beloved. sdkjfhsdkjfh and Roger trying to put the moves on her pls this will never stop being funny to me

ugh Dani already feeling so trapped in this life I hate it I hate it

Jamie fiddling w the coin necklace while she watches Dani n Eddie together feels like... she knows she’s losing Dani on some level ouch my heart

is this when Jamie was telling Ed of for letting Dani get drunk wdjkfhdj always the protector aw

she’s still wearing Dani’s scrunchie oh my god. u may have her hand ed but u will never have her hair ties

Dani’s dress MORE BLUE

this is such an interesting event w them like they’re best friends and they’re together so much but they avoid each other for half the party it’s so like... indicative I guess of things changing between them hmmmm

cursed spin the bottle. poor Dani

the zippo lighter. i love seeing things from the box in these chapters. like a gay scavenger hunt

the inadvertent cigarette kiss oh my god. also a little bit like... Jamie just leaning into the pain huh??? I get to put my lips where her lips were but it’s around this thing that has the potential to kill me. god the implications

a little fireside cuddling w ur soulmate ur never gonna kiss how romantic

the sandalwood. I fuckin love that she held onto this scent after Dani told her she smells nice one time. gays really do be like that huh

god this really is the softest moment

christ that almost kiss is so intense how did they just carry on as normal after that I would have died

lol “did i interrupt something?” bro........

dsfkjhdkj Jamie GROWLING at him hahhahahahhaha

oof Dani just wants more of her. I love there was the mention of her carefully constructed walls crumbling and now she’s just like... in this little bubble of almost with her n trying so hard to hold onto that in any way she can

and now she’s back w eddie ouch I hate watching the things she wants slipping out of her grasp

lmao Eddie not putting his arm around Dani when Jamie is there. she really put the fear of god in him I love this angry little lesbian so much

poor Carson being dragged to sports games like “no I’m gay I can’t”

lmao the pair of them trying to be sneaky smoking around the corner (and also having more Moments god the tension of it all)

oooh this Orpheus and Eurydice ref spicy (also fuck this was the beginning of her actually losing Jamie huh god the storytelling... *chef’s kiss*)

oh no Nan :(

god Karen is so awful how could u just break the news to your kid like that

it’s only pain hours from here on out huh

poor Jamie god my heart breaks

something about Dani saying she’s sorry and Jamie just saying she has to go put Mikey to bed fucking breaks me. the fact she’s just lost everything, her home and the stability she was missing from her childhood that she got to have for such a short time, and she can probably barely even process it but all she knows is she has to take care of Mikey. fuck

god her destroying her bike because she’s just so devestated but anger and destruction is easier to feel than being sad.... ouch

“You don’t - you don’t have to feel anything right now. I’ll feel it for you. For the both of us” how dare u make me cry like this

god Jamie giving the scrunchie back feels like such a fucking sad little acknowledgement of her deciding she has to do everything on her own noooo

Dani trying to confront her mom god this is all so much for them to be dealing with I am so sad

tiny mikey saying “want nana” so much pain

Jamie just clinging to Dani when they’re sitting in the pew bc it’s the only way she can ask for help right now ow

“Don’t fight me” my fcking heart this chapter is so sad I need a drink

Jamie is far too young to be self-medicating her way through this god this hurts to read.

this chapter has such a melancholic loss of innocence vibe like going from the teenage parties and boys and track meets and only really having to worry about themselves to this massive amount of responsibility on their shoulders when nan dies (like as much as Jamie tries to push her away Dani takes on a huge burden in trying to help her too) it’s so fucking saaaad

Jamie just breaking and finally crying all this out in Dani’s arms holyyyy shit that will never not break my heart

god Jamie just. determined to raise Mikey on her own cause god knows what the alternative is :(

oof the thread of Jamie determined to fix things. baby sometimes u just cant.

Dani trying so hard to hold things together in the ways that she can :*(

god this ending I am in pain. i know it’s ultimately for the best like Jamie and Mikey absolutely could not carry on like that but.... bro... bro..... ouch

ok gonna go cry in the shower for a bit n then i’ll be back for ch9

#bhah #this really was the highest of highs and the lowest of lows #trying to speed read that might have been a mistake

[lastbluetardis]

Chemical Reaction (16/22)

Summary: Though their chemistry class is now over, the chemistry between James and Rose is just getting started. Together, they navigate the highs of new love and the lows of coping with past trauma to forge deep and unbreakable bonds of love and commitment. Part 2 in the Catalysis series. Tagging @doctorroseprompts

This chapter: ~4500 words, explicit -- this chapter was getting to be 10k words long, so I chunked it into two smaller ones. Hopefully the next one will be up in just a few days since it’s already mostly finished.

If you like my stories, consider leaving me a tip? I know these are trying times, but if you are able, I would really appreciate it xoxo. And as always, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated as well.

AO3 | FF | TSP

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 | Ch12 | Ch13 | Ch14 | Ch15 | Ch16 | Ch17 | Ch18 | Ch19 | Ch20 | Ch21 | epilogue

Over the last several months of sleeping—literal sleeping—with James, Rose grew accustomed to being woken earlier than she preferred. At first, it was because the cats, used to their routine, would barge into the bedroom at around seven-thirty and start demanding breakfast. She had nearly shrieked the first time Pippin launched himself onto their bed, yowling right at their heads. James had grunted and shooed him away, but the cat was persistent, and continued pestering them until James crawled out of bed and fed him and his brothers.

Eventually, the cats realized their new housemate wasn’t as much of an early riser as their master; on the nights Rose stayed with James, they would graciously wait until eight to start making a fuss.

James was usually awake by that point, and would slip out of bed, trying not to make noise or shake the bed too much, but invariably, Rose would wake up, too. Not completely, though, and she enjoyed spending the next hour or so drifting between dozing and wakefulness; she especially appreciated it when James would slide back into bed and they would cuddle, or sometimes indulge in lazy morning lovemaking. He only did it around half the time; the other half, he would get started on breakfast or would make himself a cup of coffee and sit quietly reading or studying or watching the television. It made the mornings he returned to bed with her more cherished.

Therefore, Rose wasn’t at all surprised to feel her boyfriend slip out of bed, even though it was dark through the windows. She didn’t have the energy to turn to see the time; plus, the ache between her thighs after three rounds of lovemaking the night before disincentivized her from moving at all. Not that she was complaining. There was something satisfying about the soreness left over from thoroughly having sex, almost like the pleasant burn after a vigorous, refreshing exercise.

Rose absently reached out and rested a hand on the warm imprint of James’s body on the mattress beside her, wishing it was his actual body instead.

The next thing she was aware of was someone picking up her hand and moving it. She cracked open her bleary eyes. James lay on his side, arms outstretched as he wriggled closer until he was pressed to her. Maneuvering until she mirrored his position, she flung a leg over his hips and draped an arm around his ribs. He was naked, same as her, since neither of them had bothered with pajamas the night before. The length of his body molded to hers until there was hardly any space between them at all.

Shivering lightly at the feel of so much skin touching hers, Rose tucked her head into his neck, breathing in the warm, musky scent of him. 

They remained like that for an immeasurable amount of time. Rose would gladly have stayed there for the rest of the day, but alas, she worked the afternoon shift at the grocery store. Speaking of…

“What time issit?” she mumbled.

“Seven,” he answered, his voice a low rumble in his throat.

Excellent. She didn’t have to be at work until ten, and she planned to stay precisely where she was until the last possible moment.

James, however, had different plans.

When it became clear that she wasn’t dozing off any longer, he threaded his fingers through her hair and tilted her face up. He was so close that his nose brushed against hers. The warm puffs of his slow breathing tickled her lips, narrowing her focus to nothing except him. She could count the freckles that dotted his nose and cheeks, if she wanted to. Could see the day-old stubble shadowing his cheeks in what would probably be a nice beard, if he ever decided to quit shaving.

Glancing up, she noticed his gaze was as intense as hers, his eyes dark and depthless, twitching ever so slightly as they traced her features. She wondered what he focused on, when they lay like this. Was there anything he particularly liked to admire?

“What are you lookin’ at?” she blurted.

He blinked, his gaze refocusing on hers. His brows knitted together as he replied, “Er… you?”

“No, I mean specifically. Are you looking at anything in particular? Like… up close, I like looking at your freckles.”

“My freckles?” 

“Mhm. You’ve got lots of ‘em, and they’re adorable.”

Rose reached up and brushed her fingertips along the bridge of his nose and across his cheekbones, following the trail of freckles up his temple to the ridge of his brow. His eyes fluttered shut, mouth quirking into a smile when she rubbed the pad of her finger through his eyebrow in the wrong direction.

“I like that your eyes are slightly different depending on the lighting.”

It took her a minute, having forgotten her question. “Really?”

He nodded. “Right now, they’re dark. Almost completely brown, like mine. If I were to turn the lamp on, they would go to a more whiskey brown. When you’re in the sun, they go even lighter. Amber colored, like they’re reflecting back the sun’s light. Sometimes they’re hazel brown, sometimes hazel green. And if you’re wearing a lot of eye makeup, they can almost go gray. I love watching them, to see what they’re doing.”

She’d never paid much attention to her eyes before, or even thought about what they looked like, apart from generic brown.

“You’ve got very pretty eyes,” he concluded, bending closer to her. His mouth approached her eyes, and she shut them automatically. A second later his lips fluttered gently across one eyelid, then the other, before he planted a kiss low on her forehead.

She smiled at him when he nuzzled the tip of his nose against hers. He hummed through a grin, eyes slowly closing again as he angled his head to the side and finally pressed his mouth to hers.

Kissing James was always a slightly out-of-body experience. Her head emptied of anything apart from the feel of his lips on hers, of his hands on her body. It was as though the universe melted away, leaving nothing else behind except for them.

The entire length of their bodies was twined together, their front halves in complete contact. Despite all the love they’d made the night before, Rose could feel James’s burgeoning arousal the longer the kiss continued. There was nothing urgent about his movements this morning, not like last night, when he’d been utterly insatiable and almost frantic. Nevertheless, Rose felt her herself beginning to respond to him. Her heart rate increased, pumping blood all throughout her body and sending throbbing, delicious heat to all the right places.

Even in the height of her relationship with Jimmy, when it seemed like all they did was party and shag, Rose didn’t remember it ever being this all-consuming. It was intoxicating, and not even the last four months of being physically intimate with James had cooled her lust for him. She wanted him just as much—if not more—now as she did at the beginning. The deeper in love she fell with him, the stronger her desire to share her body and soul with him. Sex with James was so much more than physical pleasure; it was emotional satisfaction unlike anything she had experience before. Which, of course, made the sex even better, too.

His hands roamed at will across her skin, tracing abstract patterns and shapes into her flesh and leaving goosebumps in their wake. He placed his palm onto her hip and rocked his entire body into hers; his chest pressed to hers, and his hips rubbed deliciously against hers. Pleasure swept through her belly, settling low behind her navel. 

He repeated the motion, and it was only then that she realized he was trying to coax her onto her back. Disentangling her legs from his, she complied, pleased when James followed suit immediately. He hovered above her, propping himself up with his forearms on either side of Rose’s head as he lazily rolled his hips into hers, stimulating both of them as the hard length of him teased at her folds.

“Is this all right?” he murmured, his breath catching in his lungs. “We, er, did it a lot last night…”

“This is perfect,” she interrupted.

“Dunno what’s gotten into me,” he admitted. “Can’t seem to get enough of you.”

“I’m certainly not complaining. Well. At least not ‘til I can’t walk anymore.”

He snorted and puffed up with an insufferable, egotistical pride. She rolled her eyes and flicked his nose before tugging him down for another kiss.

It was one of the slowest build-ups Rose had ever experienced. It was as though she and James were more focused on kissing, caressing, and feeling. They were merely letting things progress without much thought, together in the moment and basking in the emotional and physical love that they shared. Lovemaking in one of its purest forms. 

Rose was hardly aware of the lingering ache between her legs when he slowly slid into her and began to move. They continued to touch and kiss each other, their rhythm unhurried. Gentle sparks of pleasure were fanned into a blazing fire that took them both by surprise when, minutes later, Rose gasped and moaned, clenching around him. It was more intense than she expected, especially considering she’d been perfectly satiated when they’d gone to bed eight hours ago. Instead, it felt as though she hadn’t had sex in months, and her body was overcome with hormones and endorphins, flooding her senses with pleasure and love for the man atop her, inside her.

When she came down from her high, James was getting close to his. His face was tense with concentration, eyes squeezed shut as he was able to selfishly focus on himself. Sweat beaded at his temples as he rocked his body into hers, his tempo quickening as his urgency increased. His breathing became ragged, and the needy little moans he let out squeezed her heart. She loved seeing him like this. She loved watching him lose himself in her. She loved knowing he was finding pleasure and completion with her, just as she’d found it with him.

“James,” she whispered, reaching up to rest her hands on his pectorals. She rubbed her palms through his sparse smattering of chest hair. He forced open his eyes, his rhythm slowing, to blink dazedly down at her. She clamped her thighs tighter around his hips in apology and in encouragement; she hadn’t meant to make him lose his rhythm, but she hadn’t been able to stay silent. “I love you so much.”

His throat bobbed as his breath stuttered. “Love you, too… Oh.”

His hips quickly found their previous rhythm, though with slightly less finesse as his desperation and desire took over. Grunting wordlessly, his back bowed and he arched his hips deeply into hers, finally giving in to his release and his pleasure.

Rose watched him intently, enjoying the pure relief playing across his face, slackening his features. She wanted to kiss him. When it seemed as though he was coming down from the throes of passion, she wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and guided him down for a kiss.

Breathing harshly through his nose, he reciprocated the kiss feverishly. When they broke apart, he dropped his head into the crook of her neck and slipped his hands under her back, holding her tightly. She returned the hug just as fiercely, never wanting to let him go again. Rose didn’t want to go into work; she wanted to stay in bed with James all day and do nothing more than exist with him, beside him.

“By the way,” he murmured, his voice somewhat slurred. Rose cracked open an eye and saw him smiling sleepily at her. “Happy Birthday.”

The words came out so tenderly, so reverently, so confidently, as though it were her actual date of birth. For an embarrassing second, Rose worried she had somehow lost track of an entire month; she blamed the lingering endorphins for her foggy brain as she blinked wordlessly at him.

He broke into a sheepish, boyish grin. “So, not today then?”

It took her mind a minute to catch up before she realized the date. April had begun, and with it, James’s mission to figure out her birthday.

Snorting, Rose said, “No, not today, you numpty.”

“Though you could be pulling an April Fool’s prank on me,” he mused. “Wouldn’t that be an interesting turn of events?”

“I promise you, on my own life, your life, the life of my mother, and the lives of your cats, today is not my birthday. And for the record, I don’t like April Fool’s Day. Never been a fan. It gives arseholes an excuse to be bigger arseholes.”

James pouted. “Well, is your birthday coming up soon?”

“Sometime this month,” she replied innocently, feeling a wide grin stretch across her lips.

“Ro-oooose! Can’t you give me a hint?” he begged. “A teeny tiny little hint?”

Rose tapped her finger against her chin before she answered, “It’s not the first day of the month, or the last day of the month.”

James groaned and face-planted into her breasts. Giggling, Rose carded her fingers through his hair. “Poor baby.”

“You’re making it very hard to be a prepared boyfriend,” he muttered, his voice muffled.

“Now you know how I felt on your birthday. Besides, spending time with you is all I want for my birthday. And maybe some birthday sex.”

“How am I supposed to have sex with you on your birthday if you won’t tell me when it is?” he challenged, grinning smugly.

“Guess you’ll have to shag me every day, just to be safe.”

“You drive a hard bargain. But I suppose I can rise to the task. All in the name of love.”

Rose pressed a kiss to the top of his head, then nudged for him to get off her. “I should get a shower. I have to be at work at ten.”

“Bugger, I forgot.” He heaved a sigh. “I’ll have breakfast ready by the time you’re finished.”

With a parting kiss, they rose from the bed and parted ways.

True to his word, James had a stack of waffles and eggs waiting for Rose when she stepped into the kitchen. He was also stirring honey into a mug of tea, which he set at her place at the table. They ate their breakfast and chatted mindlessly about their plans for the day and school assignments: James offered to proofread her essay for her English composition class, while Rose offered to quiz him with flashcards for his upcoming political ideologies exam.

After they’d eaten, they cleaned up from breakfast and dinner the night before. Their bowls were still in the living room, as were piles of their clothes.

“Aha!” Rose had forgotten where she’d left her phone until she spotted it sitting atop her jeans. She picked it up, and saw she had quite a few email and text notifications. Her stomach churned when she saw Jimmy’s name. In the passion from the night before and that morning, she had forgotten about Jimmy and how she had told him she was ready to talk to him. She was beginning to regret that decision.

After taking a deep, calming breath, she unlocked her phone and opened WhatsApp. There were messages from Jimmy, her mum, and a friend back home. She tapped Jimmy’s name to bring up his message thread.

Thanks for hearing me out. I've been spending the past week figuring out exactly what I want to say to you, but it doesn't feel good enough.

I don’t know if I can ever tell you how sorry I am Rosie. I’m sorry for everything, but especially for hurting you, and not pulling my weight in our relationship. I’m sorry for going out all the time, and wasting our money. I’m sorry I left you with the bills and for never paying you back. And I am so sorry for cheating on you. It makes me sick, and I wish I had a good reason for why I did it, but I don’t, except that I’m an awful, terrible person.

“Ready to go?”

Rose jumped and had to fight not to hide her phone from James. Instead, she backed out of Jimmy’s messages and opened her mum’s. They were the usual “good morning” messages, along with some gossip from the estate.

“Yep, just wanted to check my messages. Nothin’ important.”

She slipped her phone into her back pocket and gathered up her clothes from the floor. She dumped them into the laundry basket to do later, then followed James to his car, where he drove her to work.

All morning, Rose thought about Jimmy’s messages, trying to mentally transcribe a reply. For all intents and purposes, his apology seemed genuine—she would have to tell Elsa, who had bet he wouldn’t actually give a real apology.

However, after years of putting up with his apologies only to have her heart broken again, Rose was wary about getting caught up in his honeyed words. She made a pact with herself: she would accept his apology, thank him, and then put him firmly behind herself so that she could look ahead to her future with James.

She didn’t have a chance to respond to Jimmy until the late afternoon, by which point she wasn’t sure if he would be awake or not, what with the five-hour time difference. In any case, she sank onto her sofa, exhausted from her day of running the cash register at the grocery store, and opened up his messages. She read them again, and was no closer to having an answer for him than she did when she first skimmed his words.

Maybe simple was the way to go.

“Thank you for apologizing,” she typed and sent.

A few seconds later, she saw that he was typing. Still awake, then.

I really am sorry, Rosie. If I could turn back time and do it all over again, I would change everything.

Rose snorted to herself; he would have to go back to almost the beginning of their relationship if he wanted to make any real changes. And honestly, if someone appeared in her living room with a time machine and offered to let her go back and change the way her relationship with Jimmy had gone, she would not even be tempted to take the offer. For as painful and traumatic as it was, it had eventually led her to James; he was the one thing in her life she would never regret, the one thing in her life she would never want to change.

Deciding to be perfectly blunt with Jimmy, she said, “I wouldn’t. You broke my heart, but I came out all the better for it. I’m in a good place now. Well. Apart from when you first texted me. But even that was a good thing. It showed me I hadn’t let myself grieve for everything that happened, but I’m fixing that now. I’m happy.”

I heard you went back to school. In America?

“Yeah. Got a full tuition scholarship from…” Rose deleted that last word; she definitely was not going to give him her specific location, thank you very much. “I decided I needed a fresh start.” Best decision I ever made.

Rose would have gladly left the conversation there, but something compelled her—the niceties of polite British conversation, perhaps—to reciprocate the questions back to him. “What have you been doing with yourself? Still making music?”

Nah, the band broke up a year ago. For a while I tried to make it solo. Things didn’t work out.

I’m working in construction now. Hard work, but the pay’s good. I’ve got my own flat and everything. It’s nice.

“Still with… your girlfriend? Can’t remember her name.”

Who, Brenda? No, we split an age back. God, it must've been two or three years since I’ve seen her.

Rose’s chest hollowed out. Not only had Jimmy destroyed their two-and-a-half-year-old relationship without a care in the world, he’d destroyed it with a woman he’d only had a short fling with. She tried not to let it bother her, really, she did; but it was crushing to know she hadn’t been satisfactory enough to keep Jimmy invested. She and their relationship hadn’t been interesting enough, hadn’t been important enough, for him to stay.

This is a Jimmy problem, not a Rose problem. He’s a wanker, and that is not your fault. It’s a reflection on his character, not yours.

The little voice in the back of her mind sounded suspiciously like Elsa, and Rose couldn’t help but smile. She would have to tell her friend that she was invading her inner thoughts. Elsa, her own personal Jiminy Cricket conscience. 

“I hope you find happiness, Jimmy. I really do.” She sent that message, then followed it up with, “I appreciate your apology, and I hope it gives you peace, too.”

I feel I haven’t done enough to atone to you. You were the most important person in my life, Rosie. And I still care a great deal about you.

“There really isn’t much more you can do. You’ve said your piece, and to be honest, I think we both just need to accept that things ended badly, but we’ve moved on. Or at least, we should move on.”

And what if I don’t want to move on? I love you, even after all this time.

The air gusted out of Rose as though she’d been punched, and her ears rang loudly in the silence of her flat. What the bloody hell was he playing at? There was no way—no fucking way—he could be serious. He could not love her. They hadn’t spoken in three and a half years. He hadn’t made any effort to contact her until now. While she was unspeakably grateful for that, that wasn’t the behavior of someone who supposedly loved her.

Take James, for example. On the days they didn’t see each other in person, they exchanged texts daily, even if it was something as small as “I hope you’re having a nice day” or “Thinking of you” or “Love you xoxo”. She couldn’t imagine going even a day without hearing from him in some way, shape, or form. On the days where one of them was in a bad mood, or they had a minor disagreement, they checked in with each other. Because that’s what love is. It’s eternal and enduring, even though the most trying of circumstances.

Shaking herself out of her head, Rose tapped away furiously on her phone.

“The feeling is *not* mutual. I have moved on. I’m in America. I’m studying something I love. I…” She nearly told Jimmy she was in a happy, healthy, loving relationship, but decided he didn’t deserve to share in or know about her joy. James was hers, and she had no intentions of letting Jimmy taint him. “I am happy you’re doing better, but I won’t give you hope of there ever being an ‘us’ again. We were young, we made mistakes, and we’ve learned from them. I have no intention of going backwards.”

Okay. Though I would like to do more for you. I left you with loads of bills to cover. It’s not fair you were out all that money. I would really like to pay you back.

Rose’s lungs seized up. “No. The debt has been paid, and I want to forget about it.” I won’t dare give you a scrap of ammunition… I won’t let you dangle this over my head in the future. “I appreciate the gesture, but I’m going to decline. I’m also going to stop the conversation. I’m exhausted, and I don’t want to argue with you about this.”

I’d like to discuss it with you further though. When you have the energy. Just think about it, yeah? You paid six months of rent on your own… that’s a lot of dough. Consider it reparations. Think on it, and we can talk about it later. Good night, Rosie.

Rose rolled her eyes, but closed out of her phone. Wanker. Wanker, wanker, wanker! A wanker who clearly grew and matured over the last three and a half years, but a wanker nevertheless.

She rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes, where a dull ache was forming behind her brow. Wanting to instead chat with someone who most certainly was not a wanker, Rose grabbed her phone, pulled up James’s number, and dialed it. He answered on the third ring.

“Hi!” he said brightly, a grin evident in his voice.

“Hey,” she replied, her body releasing all of its tension as she let his voice wash over her.

“Finished with work? Wanna hang out? Or do a long-distance Netflix and literal chill date night?”

Rose bit her lip around a laugh. “What, too worn out to do a proper Netflix and chill date night?”

He was silent for the span of a few heartbeats before he confessed, “There must seriously be something wrong with me if I would gladly have a real Netflix and chill date with you. We’ve had sex, what, four times in the last twenty-four hours? Not even… more like twenty hours. My bits are gonna fall off. And how are you even walking?”

Giggling, she said, “Quite full of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Pfft, well clearly I haven’t done a good enough job, then.” He sniffed. “But seriously… isn’t this weird? I thought we were beyond the horny hump.”

She choked. “The horny hump??”

“Yeah, you know…” With the way he paused, it was not at all difficult for Rose to picture him in her mind’s eye, gesticulating vaguely with his hands. Her chest warmed with affection for him. “…the honeymoon period, I suppose. The time where all we want to do is shag. January. I thought we’d worked it all out of our system in January, but it’s like a second wave has hit, because good God, Rose…” He let out a wistful sigh that clenched her heart. “I want to make love with you over and over again. I want to lie naked with you and hold you and touch you. I want to be with you, exist in the same space as you.”

The yearning in his voice settled heavily in her heart, and all of a sudden, she wanted him in her flat right now so she could hug him. 

“I’ll be at yours as soon as possible,” she promised, standing from her couch and slipping her shoes on.

“No, wait, you don’t have to,” James hurriedly said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“I want to,” she said simply. “I miss you, too. And I… if it’s something you still want, I’m really looking forward to moving in with you when my lease is finally up.”

“Something I still want? Of course I want it. I will never not want it, Rose.”

Even though it felt woefully inadequate to how she felt, all Rose was able to get out was, “Me too. I’m on my way. Love you,” before she ended the call and hailed an Uber ride to take her to James. To take her home.

#ficandchips #doctorroseprompts #dwfic #doctor who #ten x rose #ten x rose au #james x rose #au #alternate universe #university au #romance #soft lemons #my fic #chemical reaction #catalysis series #chemical potential sequel

[licenselesswriter]

Ten Duel Commandments CH8

Your last chance to negotiate

Monday, May 11, 2020

Farkle looks at his phone one last time before throwing it away. He was incredible annoyed by the reaction everyone was having to Lucas and Maya. He wasn't able to process why people wanted them as an item so bad when on the other side of the coin was her best 'friend' feeling like crap because of all the mess Lucas put them on, and nobody but him gives a crap about that.

Farkle takes a deep breath, sits on his bed, and looks at the floor. No, this wasn't Lucas's fault, he thought to himself. Even when he didn't want to admit it, Zay has been right from the beginning. It wasn't Lucas's fault. He was not in the wrong for falling in love with Maya. Hell, if he was honest with himself, he also falls for the blonde beauty when they were kids, but as soon as Riley enters his line of vision, he knew that there was no coming back from him.

That thought makes him realize one of the truths of the world, not everything revolves around the people you love and the fact that he made a circle around what he considers the truth and fairness makes him lose the argument because as soon as he did that, he denies every other point of view. Even if he thought he was right, deep inside, he knew he wasn't.

Now everything was fucked up, really fucked up. Riley took the first step, making her own grown phase away from everyone, maybe even forgetting Maya and Lucas for being deceptive with her. 

Maya and Lucas were thriving on their relationship, a happy couple, enjoying the free world now that everything was in the open and with no one to judge them. And by the looks on their Instagram accounts, nor Shawn or Mary were remotely mad about them hiding everything from everyone. 

Isadora probably had the grown spurt that most hurt him. Yes, he understands that he never was the perfect boyfriend, but not even a few months to mourn him? He has been feeling like a complete piece of shit for two months, and she was moving at alarming speed from him, and honestly, making him worry about her new friendship with Billy Ross.

Farkle gets up from his bed and walks to his bathroom. He looks at himself in the mirror, and it terrifies him that he couldn't recognize himself.

For some reason, he finally was able to see the effects of all this mess on him, the dark circles under his eyes, the clear signs of dehydration, how opaque his hair was now.

He even lost some weight that doesn't help his already thin physique.

He looks at his reflection one more time, and this time the questions were others.

What happened to the gentle genius that always did all in his reach to protect his friends? At what moment he turned into this bitter young man who lied to himself, thinking that he was doing all of these things only to see her best friend happy?

His face was there, on the mirror, but his essence was gone.

"You might need help this time Farkle," he says to his reflection on the mirror.

But before that, a shower, that he clearly needs it.

And a round of well-deserved apologies.

.

"I'm gonna say I'm surprised, but I'm not," Isadora says before sitting in front of Farkle, taking a good detail on his looks, his faces, his eyes, and his expression, evident signs of depression, but that was something that she would keep to herself unless asked for.

"I'm surprised you wanted to see me. After all, we didn't part ways in the best terms," Farkle replies.

"Farkle, please," Isadora says, sitting in front of him, "You know I loved you, even now, I love you, not as a romantic partner, but as a person, for what you give and the experiences you share with me" she adds.

"So, not even as a friend?" Farkle asks.

"Farkle, we broke up less than three months ago," Isadora answers, "You need some time to heal, I need some time to heal, it's a process, not because we have a higher IQ means we are gonna be back to normal, to being friends," she explains.

Farkle looks down, "I know, I know, it's just, my brain hasn't been working like it used to do," he justifies himself.

"I know," Isadora replies, "You still have troubles handling emotions, not like I used to had, but your moral compass is making it really hard for you," she explains.

"Should I guess that you know why I ask you to meet me?" Farkle asks.

"I know why you ask me to meet you, and the answer is no," Isadora replies before turning to the waitress, "Please, one Iced Coffee to go," she says to the waitress.

"Can I ask why?" Farkle asks.

"Because Iced Coffee it's delicious?" Isadora asks back, avoiding his question.

"So it's like this now?" Farkle asks this time.

"Farkle, why I, someone who has nothing to do with your problem, do something to help?" she asks, "I get it, we used to be friends, we used to be partners, and we used to be boyfriend and girlfriend," she adds, "But let's not forget that we broke up because it was too obvious to me that you never stopped loving Riley, and that to you, Riley's happiness is the most important thing in the world," she continues, "But you're in this mess because you refused to listen to anything that is not involved with Riley's happiness, and you need to learn how to take responsibility about your own decisions," Isadora adds.

"I took you for granted for so damn long," Farkle says, defeated.

"You did, but I also thought that I would be able to beat Riley in your mind and in your heart, and I failed miserably," she argues back, "The secret of life, Farkle," Isadora says, getting her Iced Coffee before giving Farkle a five-dollar bill, "You will never conquer a heart that already has been conquered," she says, getting up, only to put a soft kiss on Farkle's cheek.

Tuesday, May 12, 2020

Lucas was nervous.

For the first time in seven months, Farkle was the one reaching to him to talk, and he knew exactly about what he wanted to talk about. He wasn't sure he wanted to talk about his relationship with Maya. After all, he was the first one to oppose to him having an interest in any other girl besides Riley, and even when he wanted his friend back, for no reason he could give, he would change anything he's been experiencing today.

"I honestly didn't believe you would want to meet with me after 7 months of radio silence," Farkle says from Lucas back.

"That's because you did the radio silence. I never wanted to stop talking to you," Lucas replies.

"I don't want to sound ungrateful, but I think I'm ready to hear your side if you don't mind," Farkle says, walking around the bench and sitting next to the Texan.

"Are you sure about that?" Lucas asks, "Because if I tell you my side, you might not like it," he adds.

"How can you know that?" Farkle asks.

"Because Riley has always been your priority," Lucas answers with a short laugh, "And that clearly gives you a biased mindset," he adds.

Farkle laughs, "So, everything comes to me being able to handle the truth?" he asks, "What if I promise to not be biased?" he asks.

Lucas chuckles again, "If you can promise that, then I don't have a leg to stand about denying you my side," he says.

Farkle looks at Lucas for a few seconds and chuckles, "You know I can't have my opinion biased. After all, everyone seems to think I'm in love with Riley, and how a man in love can't have his opinion biased?" he teased him, "But for the benefit of this conversation, I will try my best," he adds.

"Good enough for me," Lucas replies, "So, I should start with the beginning, and that was, probably, when I sneak into Riley's room, looking for Maya to inform everyone of my decision," he says.

"You can skip to the meat of the story. This relationship between you and Maya made clear to me that you picked her that day, and Riley just urn into your pitty case," Farkle says in a snarky tone.

"Can we do the Q&A at the end?" Lucas asks, "Also, lose the tone, not necessary, and not wanted at all," he states before taking a deep breath, "For me, it all started around two and half years ago, almost a year from Riley and me breaking up," he says.

Farkle covers his ears, "God, you were right, I don't want to hear this," he says, fastly getting up from the bench.

Lucas chuckles and gets up with him and gently sits him back, "If you want the truth, I'm gonna tell you, but if you go now, you will never know my side, and maybe we might not rekindle," he threats Farkle.

"You're threatening me?" Farkle asks.

"I'm giving you a spoiler, Farkle," Lucas replies, making sure his friend understands how serious he was.

"Fine, fine, let's do it your way," Farkle agrees, desperately rubbing his hands on his thighs.

"Calm down, I'm gonna tell you a love story, not a Stephen King story," Lucas says, trying to calm Farkle, "As I was saying, Riley was on her discovery period, and if I was honest, me too," he says, remembering those days, "And I discover that my feelings for Riley had been gone for months before us breaking up because as soon as she started going out with other guys, I honestly didn't care," he adds.

"Wow, and I thought I was an awful boyfriend," Farkle comments.

"Big difference, I never lied to any of my partners, Farkle, never lied," Lucas defends himself, "So, Riley started going out with guys, you started going out with Isadora more often, and well, Zay and I start going out a lot. Like full 'the boys are back in town' style, and, I'm sorry if this stings, but you two kinda abandon Maya," he states.

"We would never abandon Maya," Farkle tries to justify himself.

"No, you did, and I'm not blaming you for something. It's just that you didn't have enough time for Maya, and that where Zay and I get into the scene. You two were M.I.A., so she started going out with us a lot," he explains, "And once Vanessa came here to New York for winter break, that gave me the opportunity because I didn't see anything wrong with that, I mean, you were with Isadora, Riley was with what's-his-face, Zay was with Vanessa, and Maya wasn't with Josh anymore," he explains.

"So this is a 'La ocasión hace al ladrón' situation?" Farkle asks, feeling a bit annoyed by the story.

"First of all, I'm not a thief. Second, maybe," Lucas replies, "Anyways, we start to spend a lot of time together, going out as friends, because let's remember that before anything, we are friends," Lucas states, "And honestly, all that time I spend with Maya, made my feelings resurface into a more clear me," he continues, "and one day, I just simply kiss her. And against all odds, she kissed me back," he says, remembering that night.

"That can't be all the story," Farkle says in a sordid tone, doubting his friend's words.

"What you want me to say, Farkle?" Lucas asks his friend, a bit tired of him.

"Come on, you're telling that she got you only with a kiss?" Farkle asks back, implying something far from PG-13.

"Careful with your words, Farkle," Lucas warns him.

"Come on, you're seventeen, Maya's sixteen, and you're telling me she only kissed you? Tell me the truth, did she spread her legs for you, pretty boy?" Farkle questions him with the same tone he had before.

In complete shock, Lucas gets up from the bench, and in a flash, he slaps Farkle as hard as he was able, "I warned you, Farkle," he says, glaring at him, doing his best to keep his Texas-self buried.

"Why I'm not surprised that your underdeveloped brain's first resource is violence?" Farkle says, keep pushing Lucas buttons.

"That the card you want to play?" Lucas asks him, not believing what he was hearing.

"What you gonna do? Slap me again?" Farkle says, looking at Lucas with anger in his eyes.

"Your funeral," Lucas says, getting closer to him, making Farkle cover his face, "Why I'm not surprised that you are already defeated?" Lucas asks, "I might be a thief, or a liar, or whatever you want to call me, but at least I have balls," he says, grabbing his own bulge, "Never show your face in front of me again, Farkle, unless you want to apologize," he adds before walking away from him.

Once Lucas was not visible to him, Farkle spends a few minutes trying to control his emotions, only to fail and start crying, "You stupid imbecile, why you had to talk," he says to himself, hiding his face in his knees.

.

Lucas was getting closer to the Starbucks Isadora ask him to be, only to see her and Zay running towards him, "Hey, hey, calm down, I'm just a little late," Lucas jokes before watching them look at him, worried, "Ok, I'm getting worried, what's going on?" he asks.

"What happened with Farkle?" Zay asks him.

"What?" Lucas says, faking ignorance.

"Don't play dumb, something happened, we know," Isadora intervenes.

"Nothing happened, we talk, he didn't understand my point of view, that's all," Lucas lies to them.

"And?" Zay asks.

"And I left, that's all," Lucas lie again.

"Please, don't insult our intelligence. What happened? The truth now," Isadora asks.

Knowing that they would not stop pestering him until he confesses, he agreed to do it, "Fine, I slapped him, but he deserves it," he justifies himself.

"God, what he say?" Zay asks.

"Please, we came here to have a chat because Isadora asks us, can we please leave it?" Lucas begs them to drop the subject.

"I kissed Sarah, and I'm probably bisexual, but I can be on other specters too, done, tell us what you did, the whole story," Isadora says, surprising both boys.

"You what?" Zay asks Isadora this time.

"I think she said that she kissed Sarah," Lucas says to Zay.

"I'm not done with you, so don't push it," Zay replies to Lucas, "Are you for real?" he then asks Isadora.

Isadora, knowing that Zay wouldn't let her continue her interrogatory to Lucas until she tells him the whole story, sits on the steps of the house where they intercept Lucas, "I mean, it was for science," she says.

"Please tell me you didn't tell her that," Lucas says before Zay.

"What? No, of course, I didn't say that to her," Isadora defends herself.

"So?" Zay asks.

"It was nice," Isadora says, blushing a tiny bit, "But, if I'm honest, it's not like I'm not attracted to men. I mean, Lucas still looks incredibly appealing to me," Isadora answers.

"Bullshit, Lucas is hot to everyone," Zay jokes.

"Dude," Lucas says, judging his best friend.

"He's not wrong. Didn't Alex mention how most of your teammates ship you with Brandon?" Isadora asks Lucas.

Lucas just stays silent.

"Don't answer that," Zay says to Lucas, "It's been more than proved that if Lucas was gay, I would be his baby daddy," Zay answers in a severe tone, "And don't you dare to Chandler me," Zay warns Lucas.

"Dude, you keep giving me material to do it," Lucas replies, "Also, not the point of this conversation," Lucas says before looking at Isadora, "So, how you feel about that?" he asks her.

Isadora shows a tiny smile, "Honestly, I feel kinda happy?" she says in doubt, "I mean, the more I know about me, the better," she adds.

Lucas looks at Zay, "True," he says.

Both Lucas and Isadora look at Zay, who was a bit troubled, "Are you ok?" Isadora asks.

Lucas just chuckles, "Just let him be. He's on his universe giving you and Sarah a ship name, nobody asks," he says.

"Ship names are important, Lukey," Zay replies, "So, what are you gonna do about it?" he asks.

"Honestly?" Isadora says in doubt, "No idea," she adds, "For the first time in years, I don't know what to do," she continues.

"Don't worry, it's ok," Lucas says, sitting next to Isadora, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"Whatever happens, you know you have us," Zay comments with a warm smile.

"Thank you," Isadora says, feeling happy.

"We are your friends. We have your back," Lucas says.

"Celebratory donuts?" Zay asks Isadora.

"That would be good," she replies.

"Let's go. We're buying," Lucas says, walking away from them.

"We still want to know the whole Farkle thing," Isadora says.

"Dammit," Lucas curses. 

I don’t even feel bad for making Farkle the bad guy on this.

#Lucaya #Lucas x Maya #Lucaya Fanfic #GMW Fanfic #Ten Duel Commandments

[crystalgirl259]

The Flame and the Dragon Ch8

Chapter 8: The Proposal

Kai suddenly jumped out of his skin and stumbled into a heap on the floor. After untangling himself, Kai shook his head and found himself on the kitchen floor. His book lied open on the table and the chair he'd fallen asleep in tipped over when he stumbled. A loud knocking against the front door sent obnoxious vibrations through the entire house. He punched the floor in frustration. It took all his willpower not to destroy everything within two feet of him.

It wasn't the first time he'd fallen asleep reading a book, but it was the closest he'd ever come to seeing his dream lover or kissing him.

The obnoxious pounding on his front door only increased his already burning fury. The furious brunette stormed to his feet and stomped to the front door before unlocking it and throwing it open. He intended to take his rage on the idiot foolish enough to wake him from such a wonderful dream.

"WHAT!" He bellowed. Then his jaw hit the floor, out of shock more than anything else.

"Why hello darling," Morro flashed a seductive smirk, swaggering into the house. The duke's swagger wasn't in any way surprising; in fact, Morro visited the Smith's home frequently in his attempts to either seduce Kai or bribe Nya into a marriage contract. The fact that he'd invited himself in wasn't a surprise either. Being the Duke, he would claim it was his own right to be allowed in. Dismissing of him would be a direct insult and utter rudeness.

What shocked Kai to the core was that this time, however, and only this time, Morro had arrive draped in nothing but a wedding suit and was holding up a gorgeous, white-laced wedding dress to the brunette!

It was clearly tailored for Kai. Heck, it even had his full name stitched on the tag. The dress left the top of the shoulders uncovered, but didn't cover the sides and flows down into an elegant plunging neckline. It's a relaxed fit which makes the dress look comfortable, yet elegant and stylish. The arms had been left uncovered. A choice that added to the elegance and grace of the dress. The dress's waist was wide, but it was a comfortable fit. A small, elegant belt helped accentuate the waist without being too much.

Below the waist, the dress widened and has a bell style.

The dress reached well above the ankles and was slightly longer at the sides and back of the dress. The final touch was the white veil embroidered with flowers. At first, Kai was too shocked to say anything, but once his head cleared enough to think straight, he turned to the duke, glaring.

"Morro... what a pleasant surprise." He kept his voice civil solely out of respect for his relatives. The words rolled like poison off his tongue. Misinterpreting this as a sign of approval, Morro smiled a smile that curled at the corners.

"I'm sure." He brushed up against the brunette, leaning in close, causing Kai to take a step back. His green eyes flashed like a siren about to seduce its prey. It was a miracle of Kai's will that he hadn't already thrown the duke out of the house. He exhaled a breath when Morro pulled back and looked around his home. He sighed with disapproval. "Why do you live in this God-forsaken house, Kai? It's so... small and plain, and it's in the middle of the woods?" He complained.

Kai clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, his face was red with rage.

"I like my house; it's more than enough room for me, Nya, and Lloyd and we actually quite enjoy the walk to town and the woods; Nya finds it inspirational." He answered, doing his best to keep his voice civil.

"I wasn't asking if you tolerated it." Morro snapped, strolling towards him again. "I was saying..." He began until he caught his reflection in the hallway mirror. He stopped and smirked at the handsome god in the mirror, and ran his hand through the jet black locks, and straightened his bow tie. Kai scowled in disgust. Morro was as shallow as a puddle. Once the Duke was finished entertaining himself, he strolled back to Kai in that seductive swagger the brunette was beginning to hate more and more.

"I wasn't asking if you could tolerate it, darling, I simply meant that you deserve more." He smirked as he brushed against him causing him to take a long step backward. "Surely, you've always dreamed of something better than this?" He purred and Kai raised an eyebrow at this. He dreamed of getting out of this rat hole and of what he could learn, where he could go, and what he could see. Not what house he lived in. It took all of Kai's willpower not to roll his eyes.

Only Morro would care for something so frivolous.

"And what exactly do I deserve?" He demanded, expressionlessly, crossing the room to return to the kitchen. Morro's smile curled, taking a step towards Kai.

"You, my darling, deserve the best and only the best."

"And what is that." He asked, his neutral mask refused to fade.

"A grand, beautiful home filled to brim with treasures and endless elegant rooms." He swooned, brushing up against him again. Kai stepped back but Morro stepped forward. "A high title and position worthy of your status, the respect, and admiration of all the people around you, a house full of servants to wait on you hand and foot and, of course..." His fingers danced up Kai's chest, making him shiver in horror. Kai gripped the table, resisting the urge to grab the man in front of him by the neck and throw him out the window.

Respect for his family forced his temper under control.

"You need a spouse; someone who is gorgeous, educated, well-respected, highly thought of, someone who has known you your entire life; to ravish you each and every night and spoil you with whatever your heart desires." He grinned and Kai swore his skin turned green when the noirette said ravish. He couldn't even concentrate on the rest. By some miracle, he managed to hold his stomach and worm his way out of his grasp, unable to listen to Morro's ridiculous delusion of his wishes anymore.

Again his gift of words failed him, unable to find a world revolting enough to describe the spoiled and selfish dream world Morro was creating.

"And you know who that woman would be?" He asked as he cut him off when he escaped into the hallway.

"I can't even imagine." He retorted, not even trying to hide the sarcasm in his voice.

"Me, darling." The duke said gleefully, in a voice so giddy, it would make even the strongest of men, sick to their stomachs. "And all it takes is one little question…" He growled seductively as he pushed himself up against the brunette, as he skillfully backed up until he felt his back hit the front door.

"Morro, are you asking me what I think you're asking me?" Kai gulped as his amber eyes almost bulged out of his skull in a mixture of anger, shock, and disbelief. Morro's eyes turned dangerous with impatience. The noirette braced his arms on either side of Kai trapping him between him and the front door, and never in his life had Kai cursed his short height more than he did then.

"You aren't very bright are you darling? Let's be clear then; I am going to marry you!" He exclaimed and his eyes lowered seductively, as he moved his face closer, not noticing Kai's free hand wrap around the doorknob.

"I do have something I want to tell you," Kai smirked, feeling morally obligated to all humankind for the good deed he was about to do. Smirking in victory, Morro closed his eyes and leaned forward waiting for Kai's lips to meet his. "OVER MY DEAD, ROTTING BODY!" He suddenly shouted in burning rage. A sharp turn of the doorknob and dodge to the left by Kai and Morro was so overcome by surprise. He screamed when he stumbled through the door and straight into the mud that had been acuminating after last night's storm.

The once stunning white wedding dress he had been holding was now completely ruined by the sticky brown mud.

A band suddenly roared to life, until a series of collective gasps filled the air. Kai felt his jaw drop. The entire town stood in front of his house dressed in tuxes and ball gowns. A gazebo, decorated in white roses with a priest holding a bible standing beneath it, stood at the edge of the property. A red carpet covered in white petals led from the gazebo to a few feet from the mud where the duke had landed. All the eyes of the town folks were glued to either Morro or Kai.

A few people glared at the brunette with jealously, while some were in tears.

Even a large, delicious-looking wedding cake had been placed in the center of a silk cloth-covered table and surrounded by goblets filled with red wine.

"You arranged an entire wedding behind my back?" Kai growled shaking with fury. All control vanished in a single instant. Furious amber eyes bore into Morro like pools of fire. "Get. This. Through. Your skull. Morro." He spat his name as if it were poison. "I. Will. NEVER. EVER. MARRY. YOU! Now get off my property and FSM help you if you come back because I will not be responsible for my actions!" He roared. He then slammed the door shut, sending the entire town into shock.

Morro's screams of fury were the last things he heard before he bolted through the house and out the back.

He crashed into the side of the deck, panting uncontrollably. Shock, anger, disgust, and a dozen other emotions burned through his veins all at once, consuming him and making it impossible to think straight. He couldn't even speak coherently or even say the word. The very realization was too horrific for his mind to comprehend. He knew full well what Morro wanted, but the man lived and breathed formalities, and that dictated one had to ask permission of the parents first then ask the person to marry them.

Morro was not bold enough to defy the traditions that dictated his place in society, only because they gave him all the power he wanted.

He had dropped hints, made advances, and whatever else to persuade Kai to marry him. But he had never shown up at his house demanding he accepted his proposal. The fact he'd arrived with a wedding dress and had the entire town outside his front door as if expecting Kai to marry him that second was even worse! Kai couldn't stand being the idea of being the husband of that pompous asshole. He jumped over the railing of the deck and bolted across the yard, so fast, the fields vanished under him and the trees were a blur.

He didn't stop.

It wasn't until he found himself skidding in the dirt, barely stopping in front of the pond and falling back into a bed of daisies and dandelions in their cotton form, that he finally calmed himself down enough to think. Kai panted like he ran a marathon. The blood still accumulated in his face, but his color was still pale. Tears streaked his cheeks, purely from shock more than anything else. He didn't know what was wrong with people. He grabbed his head and screamed as loud as he could in frustration, but only because he knew this far from town no one could hear him.

He didn't feel better once he stopped.

He felt embarrassed. Still, he fell back against the field and calmed himself down, wishing more than ever he'd given in to Lloyd's demands. Once he's calmed down, he sat up, bunched his knees against his chest, and buried his face in his hands. He wanted out of this God-forsaken dirt farm not to be trapped in it and being married to the duke until death did they part. He knew no one in this stupid town would accept or see him as anything other than what they wanted him to be.

They only saw him as another part of their perfect unspoken plan.

No one cared about his wishes or what he wanted. They only cared about how he fitted into their provincial grand design. He knew that would be the case since the day he arrived, but it still. How could it not when everyone around you drills and hammers it into your skull that who you are and everything about you is wrong? Kai wiped the tears from his cheeks, refusing to cry or shed a single tear for the town he'd been forced to call home. He couldn't even begin to imagine how much Vincent was writhing in his grave for what Morro did to the place.

Or who much his parents were kicking themselves for leaving the twins and Lloyd to fend for themselves.

Kai promised himself that he was getting out of there. He didn't care how did it or when. He was getting out of that place and was never coming back. His hand soon discovered a stem and he turned to it. A dandelion stood there. Its cottony seeds were in full bloom, ready to be swept away by the wind. A childish game of making wishes and blowing on dandelions flashed in Kai's mind. He carefully picked the stem and twirled the cottony blossom in his hand.

It was a silly thing to do, really, but at that moment it seemed right.

"I wish for someone to understand me; someone who will love me for who I am and nothing less." He wished before taking a large intake of breath and releasing it over the seeds. The cottony seeds dispersed in an instant sending strands fluttering into the distances, carrying with them his deepest wish. A sudden high-pitched cry broke his serenity. Kai's eyes widened in recognition. Sitting up, his fears were confirmed when a brown blob charged straight for him.

It was their horse, Flame, still attached to the caravan.

Kai was on his feet in a second. He bolted to the stallion. Flame skid to a stop, clearly not wanting to hurt his master, the cavern rolled and jolted forward then back in response. Kai grabbed the reigns and stroked the stallion, speaking soothing words until the horse was calmed. Flame's intelligent eyes gazed into Kai's sadly. The brunette's heart plummeted when he noticed the horse was missing its rider and no one was inside or on the caravan.

Panic swept through him as he turned to the stallion, with terrified eyes.

"Flame, where are Nya and Lloyd? Did you lose them? Are they hurt?" He asked the horse desperately. Understanding the boy's fear, Flame neighed loudly before gesturing his head back towards the forest. Taking in the boy's bewildered look, the horse tried to move as far as the caravan would allow towards the path he'd come from as if telling him to follow. Understanding what the horse was saying, Kai's eyes widened. His hands grabbed the reigns tying Flame to the caravan and he viciously untied the knots and set it on the floor.

He bolted across the field, charged into the house, and grabbed his black winter coat off the hook, and threw it on over a long-sleeved red shirt and black pants.

He pulled on his riding boots and grabbed the scarlet scarf Maya made him before running back outside. The stallion was still waiting for him and gestured for Kai to climb on. Once the rider was settled, with a flick of the reigns the strong horse took off. Determination fired Kai's blood at the thought of the only family he had left lost in the woods, alone and without help. The townspeople made no effort to hide their fears when it came to the large, frightening forest.

They had all heard nothing but horror stories about that place.

Dr. Saunders had once told to the siblings that many of the townsfolk believed the stories of a cursed family who used to rule these very lands over a century ago before a wizard cursed them. Dr. Saunders told those stories in an effort to convince people that stories were meant to entertain and not believe. The superstitious residents believed them nonetheless. Even Ray warned the siblings never to venture too deep into the woods.

"Go Flame!" Kai commanded, waving his hands in the reigns. Detecting the urgency in his voice gave Flame the sudden burst of speed he needed until the horse found himself in a familiar forest clearing. Sunlight had dipped beneath the trees lighting the darkness of the forest with an orange and violet glow.

"Is this the place?" Kai asked the horse. Flame neighed in response. Heaving himself over Flame's side, Kai slid down from the saddle and look around. The horse sniffed the ground for any traces of Nya and Lloyd but the storm had washed away most of the trail. Anything to indicate the direction Kai's siblings went was covered by rivers of mud and a carpet of leaves from the storm. Kai swore, bending down to examine the ground. The rain had washed a mountain of mud over the area, burying any traces of footprints that might have been left behind.

His eyes meticulously scanned the forest floor, for any clues as to what happened, until he finally left the road and searched the bushes.

His hand suddenly found something smooth and tough almost like leather. With a flutter of hope, Kai gripped the cloth and ripped it free from the branches and mud on top of it, and shook it open. He recognized the material instantly. He growled as he clutched Lloyd's coat so hard his knuckles turned white.

"They were here, Flame, and if I know Nya, if they're lost in a storm the first thing going through her mind is finding shelter, especially if Lloyd's hurt." He told the stallion. The horse nodded in agreement, before sniffing the ground again. Slowly, he started to walk, following whatever was left of the scent. Kai followed, searching for any sign as to which direction his siblings must've gone. A loud neigh knocked Kai out of his thoughts. Flame grabbed his scarf with his teeth and pulled the brunette teen toward another path in the woods, before gesturing his head to the path.

It was different from the others.

Unlike the dirt paths caked with mud and overgrown with plants, this one was smoothed and made of fine cobblestones. Small plants and weeds were dotted it but the ground remained in place and that was when Kai saw them. Footprints made from boots, sinking thickly in the mud, symbolizing the owner was carrying some extra weight when the prints were made.

"Flame, you are brilliant!" He laughed as he hugged the brown horse's neck, before climbing back on. With a snap of the reigns, the horse took off, following the path and the prints deeper and deeper into the woods, until at last the woods came to an abrupt end. The path led to an enormous gate of rusted black iron standing so profoundly. A grey cloak lied past the gates on the side of the road where its owner must've collapsed. Kai dismounted gracefully, pulling on Flame's reigns until his fingers intertwined with the bars of the gate.

His family was there.

They had to be. His eyes followed the path all the way to the end. His amber eyes bulged in stunned awe.

"It can't be..." He whispered as shock and disbelief reeled through his entire being. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in surprise. "That's... not possible."...

#The Flame and the Dragon #beauty and the beast #parody #ninjago #ninjago zane #ninjago cole #ninjago kai #ninjago lloyd #ninjago nya #ninjago jay #lavashipping

[antihero-writings]

The Boy with the Unspeakable Name (Ch8)

Fandom: Harry Potter (and the Chamber or Secrets)

Fic Summary: Tom Riddle may have won his battle with Harry in the Chamber of Secrets, but there were a few unforeseen consequences; loss of Tom’s memory being the most obnoxious of them. Is it possible to stop Tom’s past from becoming his future? Or is the young Tom Riddle doomed to repeat his mistakes?

Notes: Hey! I'm so so sorry there was such a delay with this one! I was having a bit of a block with it. I hope you're still interested in reading! I'm hoping the next one will be a bit faster, as it's one I've been excited for. Cross your fingers everybody!

By the way, I changed that thing I said I would in the Snape chapter! It's towards the end, when Snape's looking into Tom's mind. It's not a big deal if you don't want to check it out, but it is related to this chapter!

I hope you guys like it!! As always, it's your comments, and interest, that keep me writing!! <3

Chapter 8: Only in Dreams 

Tom stared up at the ceiling in the hospital wing, his hand behind his head, thinking about all that had happened…and some of what hadn’t happened.

Sometimes that was very dangerous thing to do indeed.

An annoying woman by the name of ‘Madam Pomfrey’ kept periodically checking on him, and offering him food and medicine. He wouldn’t be surprised if she woke him in the middle of the night just to make sure he was sleeping well.

There was also a boy in the bed beside his. He kept asking him if he wanted to play a game with a strange name. Tom made it clear the only game he was interested in playing was one in which he shut up.

When he had arrived with Snape earlier, a group of students were leaving. Apparently they had been ‘petrified.’ Whatever that meant. That made it sound like they’d been turned to stone, but they clearly were still flesh and blood—(maybe he would have preferred stone).

Snape even pulled aside one of them—a girl with bushy hair. Tom tried to subtly listen, but Snape pulled her into another room, and Madam Pomfrey had deigned that moment as one of her thousand times to ask if he was comfortable.

Which left him here, with the annoying nurse, a boy who probably couldn’t hold in his own pee…and a lot of questions.

So many things about this whole situation weren’t quite right. Waking up in that chamber with the dead girl, the way she died, the way Harry and Snape reacted to his presence, and Dumbledore’s later denial that he had killed her, or that their hatred was all that serious. And though Dumbledore had explained the diary, he wasn’t satisfied there either. Not to mention the fact that everything else in that Chamber still was unaccounted for.

There were things they weren’t telling him.

He highly doubted a teacher would be so vehement against just a bully, not to mention the fact that everyone else he’d met so far hadn’t recognized him…He had to be something more than that.

There was something they weren’t telling him. In fact, he reasoned, there were probably a great lot of things. He wasn’t going to assume they were all on the same side just because they said so.

The idea that this was a magic school, and that he was a student…He wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it yet. They’d done magic in front of him, so he couldn’t deny it—not that he intended to. And the thought did send a certain energy through him…like that word was everything right in the world. And he was indeed excited to learn magic. Well, maybe ‘excited’ was too strong. But that was one of the few things that didn’t give him confusion, question and pause. Rather it create a form of what could only be called hunger within him. He wondered how proficient he had been at magic before he lost his memory. More than anything he wished he could remember the spells.

He was sure he could figure this, them, out—maybe even tonight, if he just stayed awake a little longer. But he was more exhausted than he realized and, in the midst of his pondering, fell into dreams.

“Wait, mom!” His voice sounded strange, high and young…too high, too young. Almost girly.

A plump woman with short red hair turned around at the last word.

“What is it, Dear?!” She sounded a bit put out. “Are you ready to go?”

“I’m missing my Charms book!” Tom’s voice was pained. “Have you seen it?”

She gave a forced exhale. “And you’re sure you checked your room? Didn’t miss any corners?” She inclined her head. “You’re sure it’s not sitting on your nightstand?”

“Yes! That was the first place I checked!”

“You checked under the bed?”

“Yes!”

“The bookshelves and wardrobe?”

“Yes!”

She sighed. “Talk to your father, Fear.”

“Did you say you were missing a Charms book?” A boy about his age with red hair like their mother’s came in front of him, along with an identical copy of him.

“We wouldn’t know anything about it, sure.”

“We’re just a little concerned”

“Of course, for our—” The last word got blurred.

“Boys. You didn’t take”—He was sure she said his name, but for some reason the word became murky, as if she was trying to speak through a veil of water—“Charms book, did you?”

“What?”

“No!”

“Never!

“You know us, Mom, would we ever do something so terrible as steal a poor”—Another blurred word—“—’s charms book?”

“We’re good and virtuous boys.”

Tom looked at the woman who was apparently his mother, who gave him a knowing look. “Check your brothers’ room.”

The dream turned over, and now he was standing on a platform in front of a glimmering red train engine, the words ‘Hogwarts Express’ emblazoned on the front. Steam poured out from its many orifices, and it whistled with the shrillness of a bird being squeezed…though the sound was like music to his ears.

That wasn’t the only loud noise, in fact this place was extremely loud indeed. The whole platform was full to bustling with children, parents, and as many other assorted relatives as it could hold. But the strangest thing was, he wasn’t annoyed by their presence. He was feeling many things: nervousness to leave his parents, and about what house he’d get sorted into, and if the other kids would like him, and excitement, excitement for what the castle would be like, what house he’d get into, what the classes would be like, what friends he’d make…but no annoyance.

Perhaps more than anything there was a pit in his stomach about Harry and Ron. Were they okay? Why didn’t they get through the barrier? He had been so excited to ride the Express with them. His parents tried to assure him they’d be fine, but he could hear the fear lining their voices too. He tried to let the sight of the engine distract him, and the excitement about the coming year overpower him. They’d gotten safely through crazy situations before.

He gave his parents a giant hug, and his mom kissed him many times, and he could tell she was trying very hard not to cry. They told him everything would be fine, and gave him a number of quick quips of advice. He looked towards the engine, about to take his first steps towards it on his own.

The dream crossed over itself, and though he was on the same platform, he was alone.

Well, not alone alone, it was just as loud as before, and there were just as many passersby. Not the same people, still. But this time, the sound was muffled somehow, like he couldn’t completely hear or feel what was going on around him. Just a few loud shouts would break through, and each time they did, annoyance would strike him.

There were no parents to wish him luck, or kiss him goodbye. No brothers to steal his books.

Did he like it better that way?

He looked down at his robes, and felt satisfaction run through him. They were clean and sleek and new. The first clothes he’d had that fit that description in a long time. None of the other kids got those. Well, none of the other kids could do magic either. He was special.

Just satisfaction. Not really excitement or nervousness…Just that hunger. That hunger for magic, for prowess, for a better world. Nothing compared to the bursting geysers of emotion he’d felt moments ago.

He looked up at the engine, a small smile lining his features as he stepped up to enter it.

Tom woke up to the hospital room, and went from teetering to falling off the bed.

And for a brief moment he was dizzy with unsurity; unsurity of where, or even who he was.

After he took a moment to right himself, the questions restarted themselves:

Was that just a dream? Or were those his memories?

They can’t have been, could they? He didn’t wake in a flurry of remembrance of all the memories preceding and following those. Besides, Dumbledore had told him his family was dead.

Although the final dream, or memory, was so different from the first two…Maybe that was from another year, and explained what had happened to his family?

He could tell from context they were his family, at least at some point. Yet he didn’t recognize them, or remember their names, or much of anything else about them.

Yet…

Yet, at the remembrance of their images, waves of emotion crossed over him, mostly comprised of loss, and longing. He didn’t know where those waves could have hailed from, when he didn’t remember or care for these people. But something inside himself wanted all this to stop.

It overwhelmed him. He wanted to brush it off…but stayed on the ground, leaning against the wall, digging his nails into his shirt.

He tried to feel normal…or even remember what normal was. He thought he felt normal most of the day. Right now he didn’t feel like…himself.

A line of light reached its hands out to him, and he looked up to see the door to Madam Pomfrey’s room open slightly. She must have heard him fall off the bed—(did she have owl hearing? The other kid was still snoring like a troll). Meeting her eyes was a mistake, because she gave a small gasp, and ran over to him with the speed of a rocket powered penguin.

As she helped him up, she quickly began bombarding him numerous questions, comforts, and recommendations—

“I’m FINE!” he yelled, pushing her hand away—(the other kid’s snores abruptly stopped, but he didn’t wake)— “Stop pestering me, Woman!”

Her eyes widened, apparently so shocked a student would speak this way to her, that for a moment she couldn’t speak. And at that look, before she could scold him, he muttered.

“I’m…sorry.”

The words just came out, he didn’t really think about it. But as his tongue traced the words he tasted iron.

“My dreams weren’t very pleasant,” he added. “That’s all.”

She still proceeded to berate him heavily for his behavior, and checked more than once that his dreams really were the only problem, but he could barely hear her. He couldn’t stop thinking about how strange it was that, after all the foreignness both the day and the night had to offer, the most foreign experience of all that day, was the feeling of those two words leaving his lips.

#tom riddle #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #voldemort #young voldemort #tom marvolo riddle #hp #harry potter and the chamber of secrets #hpatcos #tom riddle fanfiction #harry potter fic #harry potter fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #tom riddle fic #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle jr #Young Tom Riddle #molly weasley #fred and george #fred and george weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #the weasleys #ginny weasley #chamber of secrets #harry potter au #harry potter fandom #potterheads

[akariitsuki42]

Spirit Saga

Ch8

Chapter 7

After Talon had his moment, they both, Serene Jewel and Talon, decided to let me call them whenever I feel like calling them, I fell asleep peacefully that night because I got everyone back, Serene Jewel casted Calm Mind on me and I fell asleep like it was easy, it really was because Onyx turned into his little black cat form and slept with me. The next morning, I still felt unwanted here because of how Ichigo has been acting towards me, I'm just gonna wait until he was nowhere in sight because I'm going to be moving places, this can't continue on with what is going on with inside of my mind. So I got my suitcase ready, got out all of my clothing together and started to pack up everything in this room, I even took down the 15 number, means I need a place to live where I can have the freedom of doing anything I want. I messaged Mugetsu that I am coming to the cottage, and I never got a response for a while, then I heard Ichigo ask someone, "What are you doing here?" "None of your business," said Mugetsu, "Now move!" Then he entered the house when Orihime greeted him, "She's just upstairs." "How did you know that I was here for her?" I heard him ask. Orihime responded, "She's been depressed ever since she got back from somewhere, she's needs to be surrounded by the people she trusts now." Then Mugetsu entered the room saying, "I almost got lost because it was easy to find this room." "Yeah, I'm moving out of here," I said, "I can't take it anymore." It took like a few trips to get back to the cottage but it was worth it, I needed to escape from that cage, I need to find on where I can find my own path and hopefully have a healthy mental state because with Ichigo being a father and trying to be a cousin towards was not helping my case. Esperanza is explaining on what is going on with me to Orihime, Renji, and Rukia, basically she told everyone but Ichigo, Aunt Levy came to me, "How are you holding up?" "Feel much better now that I'm away from the city," I said, "But I will go back when I get this situated." "Good luck, you really need this," said Levy. I nodded knowing that this is going to be a one hell of a rollar coaster that I'm on, I'm ready for what is up ahead for me, just as long as I can visit Ichigo from time to time. I looked to where the fight of Aizen, myself, and Ichigo took place, it brought back memories to where I was always needed, I was always fighting alongside Ichigo without him saying that I can't cast anything until he makes the first move. Man, I missed those times, now I'm feeling like a burden to him, not to Orihime and Kazui, just him, only because I wanted to spend some time with him and he said that he's got other stuff to do. It really was starting to make me think if I was the reason for him acting like he is was because I did the big sacrifice for the sake of saving the Elemental Realm, if that's the reason then he will never see me ever again until he apologizes to me in person. At the cottage, I felt happy and calm because I was hearing so many stories from Dakota, Mugetsu, Volaris, Sana, Momoko, Velvet, basically everyone that is apart of my gang has their own room in this cottage. I was laughing because I was hearing the story of when I pulled the hair extensions of Mugetsu Shiba, yeah, he felt left out because he has only one name and that was just Mugetsu, I kept calling him Shirosaki because I didn't want to leave out Hichigo. Alex legally changed his name back to what he was originally called Ulquiorra, which is great on my part because that was the reason why he changed his name. Volaris asked him, "So, Ulquiorra, what power do you have?" "Chaos," he said, bluntly. I was expected him to say it like that because it was what I was used to hearing in public, I couldn't help but giggle at the comment, Ulquiorra looked at me then softly smiled, I'm glad that I found my own atmosphere but everyone must respect my alone time, so I stepped outside, Velvet stopped Ulquiorra from following me because I really needed to be alone to recharge myself before going back. I started to train with my metal suit of Iron and my Vibrainum Shield, as I threw my shield, someone's hand caught it, I looked to who it was, "What are you doing here?" "I just came to see on how you were doing," said Ichigo. I just stood there not knowing on what reason it was for him to be here and ruining my alone time, so I told him, "I never liked anyone who interrupts my alone time, you know this, so what ever reason you came here will have to wait because I can't bother to hear or look at you the way you've been acting towards me ever since I found love again, let me get this through that cinder block head of your's, I am your cousin, not your daughter or a servant to you, I am a part of your family so in that case do respect on what I have and support on what I am about to do, you can't lock me up forever I will find a way to escape and you are not going to stop me to achieve on what I was set out to do." "I agree," he said. It hadn't synced into me yet, so I continued, "And also! Wait, what did you say?" "I agree with you," said Ichigo, "I've acting like a total jerk!" "Total? More like dictating everything," I said. Ichigo agrees once again, "Again I agree, I'm so sorry for doing that to you, I've been trying to get over the fact that this was real and I read that note, when I walked into the room that's when I lost it. Akari, I cried when I saw that the room was empty." "Yeah thank Butterfly for making me do that," I said, "Don't ever say that keeping the portal and realm safe was blocking you from continue fighting for what's right." "Something's telling me to say exactly that," Ichigo said, "When I came here, Hichigo told me that you did what you had to do because something is keeping us apart." That scared me, something else is inside of Ichigo, could it be my own story taking place? I hear inside of my mind, "Lady Akari, it's your inner Hollow talking to you. All you need to know that my evil sister is inside of him and she is not there only because of where the cottage is located. You both need to stay here until she is taken care of." "How do we get her out?" I asked. She responds, "We'll weigh it out." Before Ichigo left, I told him, "Ichigo, don't leave just yet, there's something that you need to know now and it's best to stay while you still can." I grabbed him by the wrist, I called out Esperanza and Velvet over, basically I called everyone to hear what was told by me, "Guys, someting is inside of Ichigo and it is not his own hollow, I was told by MY own hollow that her evil sister is the one who has been making him act like this." That got Ichigo's attention, my hollow was hidden away when my memory was obscured by Butterfly, her sister is out in the world somewhere now, no longer inside of Ichigo because he's in a safe place that makes her go away from him. We need to get him away from her as soon as possible, which is why Velvet gave Ichigo a luck bracelet to prevent her coming to him, he accepted it because we are elementals and we are defending the ones we love and Ichigo is one out of many loved ones that I care too much for. Velvet tells him, "Do not take it off ever, that includes going to bed to sleep for the night, you won't even feel that it is there." "I don't feel it at all," said Ichigo, "It's actually extremely comfortable." "Until this situation is over, I'm afraid that you, Orihime, and Kazui are in danger of this entity," said Volaris, "It would probably be best if you guys stay until the coast is clear." "I agree, I can't imagine a world without you, Ichigo," I said to him, "We are going to find a way to solve this situation." "I'm going to help in any way I can," said Ichigo, "This can't keep happening." "Here's the thing, you are not an elemental," said Sana, "This is a battle between elements, you are not one." "But, Mugetsu, my hollow, and Dangai are a part of me," Ichigo said. Dakota then said, "We were a part of you, we have our own lives." "Still, though, we came from him," said Hichigo, "I'm actually surprised that I am here of all people." "It's because you were chosen to be a part of this realm that has yet to be completed," said Esperanza, "Not to mention, you were trusted by Akari, that is all it takes for it to happen." So, I helped Ichigo, Orihime, and Kazui over to the cottage so they could stay there until this is done and they are no longer in harms way. Well, Esperanza was helping them, I was bunking Alex with me, because I was told that he may be the next target of being in danger, I wasn't having that, I helped him get into the portal so he could lend the realm a fraction of his power, then he got an ultimate power boost, he looks at me, "Can you call me Ulquiorra from now on?" "Huh, why did you ask that?" I asked him. He gives me a look that I have been fighting the urge, I gave in, "Alright you got me, I have been wanting you say your previous name for so long." "Well, can I say something about now that I know what is like to feel emotions," he said, "It's very extreme feel to have." "You got use to it right?" I asked. He nods, "Oh yeah, over time I got use to it, but I didn't feel love again until I saw you on that stage singing the song that was being played."

#Elemental Defenders #Spirit Saga #Love Arc

[thewincestgospel]

First and foremost, I LOVE your recs! And that said...Do you have good case-fics? or better than, scary-gotic fics with ghost, haunted houses, the ten yards, please? The longer, the better. Thank you ;)

AWWW

I really appreciate the compliment. For your kindness here is a few fics for you

Regular Smegular Case Fics

Another Brick in the Wall by  MadBadAndPlaid  When Sam vanishes on a case, it feels like every nightmare Dean's had since he got his brother's soul back is coming true. Waking up buried alive doesn't exactly make it Sam's favorite day, either. The Winchesters will do anything to save each other: that’s almost a natural law. But in nature, everything has a cost, and Sam and Dean have a bad history of not examining the price tag.   

Apophenia by MeltinSkelton When Sam catches wind of a trio of strange murders in central Texas, the Winchesters decide to swing through on their way back to the bunker just to check it out. What initially seems like a curse turns out to be a deeper, more violent phenomenon involving not just the victims, but the entire Georgetown community - going back for more than a century. Meanwhile, emotional/physical exhaustion and previous injuries begin to take their toll on the brothers, and the nature of the case starts making certain long-buried issues and feelings harder and harder to ignore.                

Cri de Cœur [The Heart's Cry] by  kelleigh (girlfromcarolina)   Sam and Dean could use a break after banishing God’s sister to the far reaches of oblivion. However, a new case drops into their laps when they receive a message sent to the Men of Letters using a strange old code. The name Campbell makes it impossible for them to refuse. The hunt takes the Winchesters back to Charleston, South Carolina, a city they haven’t been through in almost twenty years. It plunges them into the obscure and bloody history of an old plantation where ghost sightings and a consuming madness mean the clock is ticking.      

Never Summer  by ignipes  A call from one of Sam's college friends brings the boys to a remote Colorado hotel in the midst of a blizzard to investigate a death and a haunting.

The Starving Time  by Sintari (OriginalSintari)  When a man is told he can’t do something, he suddenly can think of nothing else. Sam and Dean have to solve a case all the while cursed to disintegrate if they touch one another.

Summer Film Festival of Death by OldToadWoman Sam's point of view as he and Dean go on a hunt at a Florida movie theater where a person has died at every Saturday matinee for a month. They are short on clues leaving them an excessive amount of time to watch movies and drink booze and there's nothing to distract Sam from his increasingly inappropriate thoughts about his brother.

Supernatural: The Story of Sam and Dean by  Kyna_Winchester   It's been two years since Sam Winchester left the love of his life to attend college at Stanford University. But a shadow from his past just might drag him back into the life he used to live. As the Winchester brother's rediscover their feelings for each other an old enemy plots against them. One of them will have to make a choice that will change the course of the future. Is the love they share strong enough to overcome destiny? Can Sam hold onto his brother's humanity as Dean begins to fall into a darkness so deep he can't escape?                      

I Ain’t Scared of No Ghost...fics

The Addison Hotel By: Libellule  The brothers take what seems like an easy case for all the wrong reasons. CH8 Quote: Sam grabbed his arm, but it was the look in his eyes that held Dean in place. 'I know you got my back, Sammy,' Dean replied and crossed the salt circle.

The Boogeyman by Caladrius When Sam was 9-years-old, something stalked him nightly from the closet.  His father put a gun into his hand and told him to face his fears and take action.  Will Dean be able to save his little brother from the ghost of that first traumatic mission 14 years later?   

Dark On The Ridge by  roxymissrose   Takes place before Dean's year is up.  Sam yearns for Dean, Dean's somewhat oblivious, and there's a ghost story, too.                          

If All Else Perished by  vampireisthenewblack   Sam and Dean investigate a series of murder-suicides in an historic, but crumbling house in a small town in the rural midwest. There's a vengeful spirit in the house, all that's left of a boy who killed his brother before hanging himself in the attic. Sam and Dean get caught up in the same cycle of events that killed eight people over the last decade, and they discover an incestuous affair that led to the boys' deaths. It affects them more than they'd like to admit, raising the question of just why neither of them can ever let the other go.              

Open Shadow Series  by Maygra  Sam see’s dead people

Shadow of Doubt by  saucyminx   Jared sees spirits. It's something that he's learned to live with in a rather dysfunctional way - that is - until the next spirit to visit him is one he knows. Detective Ackles might be the one person who can help him.              

I’m Not Going In Those Haunted Houses Fics

For the Dead Keep Naught by Wickedtruth  “Great idea. Buy a house with a curse. As if we don’t have enough of our own, we gotta import the damned things too.”So starts the hunt for a monster they’ve never seen; barely even heard of.  Par for the course, almost nothing goes as planned. Witnesses, tag-along’s and death converge on a Manor House where fear reigns. For the Dead Keep Naught and the Winchesters have no intention of letting death win.

For The End of My Broken Heart by Wickedtruth Dad's disappeared and Sam's left to pick up the pieces of his broken brother.  Post Devil's Trap AU.      

This is what love does to you. This is how it always ends.  by Lenore   While investigating a house with a sad history, Sam and Dean find that the past is never really over.              

#wincest #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean/sam #case fic #ghosts #haunted house #AO3 fic #fanfiction.net #ask and you shall receive #Ask Me #supernatural #fan fiction #fanfic

[keeroo92]

Be My Nightmare Ch8

Consequences

TW for gore, enjoy!

Word count - 3,257

~~~~Previous Chapter~~~~

__________

---Reader---

This is so not what I studied…

“God damnit, Ken.”

Hideous burns extended almost to his elbows. The scorched tapestry of red and black tissue oozed yellowish goo where the deep fatty layer had melted, filling the room with a putrid scent. His hands resembled overdone steak and you cringed at the comparison.

You knew the basics of first aid; everyone you worked with took the same introductory class before their first day. CPR, bandaging wounds, checking the airway… Somehow, you didn’t think the basics covered this level of injury.

But everyone else was outside.

It was up to you.

Plastic squealed under your legs as you shifted to kneel by his head. Foamy blobs dotted the mat where you’d sprayed, but there was enough clear space to position Ken without touching the harsh chemicals. A soft moan slipped through his lips as you moved him, despite your best efforts to keep him comfortable.

What now? What do I do next?

His raspy breathing didn’t bode well. Probably inhaled too much smoke, the idiot. You pursed your lips and scanned the room, blocking out the foul aroma as you searched for the familiar red cube present in every communal room of the facility. Maybe you’d get lucky, maybe it would have step-by-step instructions on how to treat a burn.

Since when has luck been on my side?

By the time you returned to Ken with the first aid kit in hand, soft grunts of agony accompanied his every exhale. The box opened with little complaint to reveal a hodge-podge of bandages and creams, gloves and tweezers and all manner of useless paraphernalia. How long had it been now? It must be close to the cutoff; someone must’ve noticed your absence by now.

Doesn’t matter. He can’t wait that long.

You glanced back at the poor man to find his eyes fluttering open. Whimpers of piteous suffering slipped from his cracked lips as he stared at you, panic taking over as the pain set in. No time to waste.

As if there ever is.

“Hey, hey! Ken, it’s gonna be okay!”

His desecrated arms rose as if to fend off an attack, held defensively between you and him. The huff of his breathing quickened into harsh pants, interrupted by a cough every few seconds. If he didn’t calm down, he risked going into shock. You ignored the alarm bells jangling in your head, the pounding of your heart and the dryness in your mouth. Emotions were useless in emergencies, compromising judgement and ruining rational thought in even the most well-trained individuals. Panic and fear were more dangerous than any weapon on the planet.

And Ken was succumbing to it, far too quickly. Tears leaked from his dilated eyes, his arms thrashing as he searched for an escape. You waited for an opening and seized his biceps, forcing his arms to still.

“N- no! Not you! Anyone but you!”

Why was he scared of you? After all the energy you invested in gaining his trust, what happened to the fragile bond you’d built?

This is not the time.

You leaned back, raising your hands into his view in a blatantly submissive pose and you held as still as you could while he calmed. His brows furrowed in a classic expression of confusion, his mouth gaping like a fish. What a waste of time; you still needed to find V.

“I’m here to help. I know it’s hard, but you need to try and stay calm.”

The same tone honed through years of dealing with your father forced its way through your lips. Placating, calm and reassuring. The voice of someone who meant no harm and only wanted to help. The tension on his face eased another fraction; you were on the right track.

But it was taking too long. How many rooms remained unchecked? Five? Ten?

Too many.

You lowered your hands and surreptitiously retrieved your phone. Time to call for backup. Screw protocol, you needed help. Damn Kotomi…

“Where the hell are you?!”

Aaron’s tinny voice answered after a single ring. You ignored the flare of terror on Ken’s face, if he was in his right mind, he’d be thanking you.

“I found Ken, he’s badly burned! I need you to send help.”

“God damnit! Is Mark with him? Where are you?”

You shuddered in revulsion at the realization of the nearby corpse’s identity. Poor Mark, he just got married. “In the gym. Mark is… he’s dead.”

“WHAT!?”

You flinched away from the speaker. A rapid stream of curses followed Aaron’s shocked cry, but dead was dead. Mark wasn’t your primary concern, or even your secondary. Tertiary, at best.

“Is anyone else still missing?”

This is already a catastrophe. If V got loose…

The thought didn’t bear dwelling on. It wasn’t in your control, none of it was. Even after years of education and hard work, you still weren’t holding the reins. Disaster still struck; people still died. Maybe you were wrong, maybe you couldn’t alter fate.

Maybe fighting destiny was a fool’s errand.

“No, got em all. Hang on a sec.”

His voice shouted orders, muffled as something covered the microphone. Your shoulders slumped in relief at his words. No other casualties, thank the damned stars. Assuming Ken made it, only one person paid the price today.

You could live with that.

“Right, I just sent in some EMT’s. Stay where- what the fuck?!”

“Aaron? What happened? What’s going on?”

Far-off screams echoed through the small speaker. A chill of foreboding toyed across your spine, teasing you with all manner of possible horrors. It wasn’t over.

---V---

He may as well have been a ghost, for all the attention he received. Not that he minded; the solitude allowed him to observe every second of wonderful chaos. The staff focused on others in more immediate need, comforting the criers and calming the panicked. What a delightful display of agony; each face inspired a slough of new ideas in his mind. The next group session couldn’t come fast enough.

Yet one especially tortured face stood out.

Kelly.

He resisted the urge to sneer at her blank expression, as if she simply lacked the capacity to acknowledge reality. Such docility disgusted him. Truly, the woman had no purpose. A wasted life, contributing nothing to society. A leech on severely limited resources. Undeserving of the air in her lungs.

You could fix that.

The artist’s lips twisted into a feral smirk, his emerald eyes glittering with glee. What a lovely idea… It had been so long since he indulged himself. Considering the situation, the risk was low. The closest staff member stood over a dozen steps away, struggling to reassure an incoherent young woman.

“Thank you, Vergil.”

He sidled closer to his target until less than a foot of empty air remained between them. She never shifted her eyes, didn’t bother to notice the predator closing in. His fingers itched as static bloomed in his nerves, the small hairs on his arms standing at attention. Some might call his plan a barbaric form of mercy.

He called it mastery.

“Yours is a cruel fate,” he began.

The merest twitch of her shoulders revealed her perception of him. He tracked the movements of the closest orderly, but the fool was still too far away to change anything. Goosebumps erupted on his skin, an anticipatory shiver running up his spine and rattling the loops of metal around his wrists. It’d been so long since he last saw that delightful crimson splash.

The artist licked his lips and continued, choosing his words with the utmost care. “I see your pain. It never gets lighter, does it?”

He paused, letting his seemingly sympathetic words sink in. No need to rush, not with the glaring incompetence of the staff. He could afford to savor the moment.

“The only peace you’ll ever find is in death. I know it. You know it. Even the doctors know it.”

Another pause as Kevin glanced their way, his attention divided between the artist and several others. Buffoon. Images of the man’s imminent death brought coils of heat to the artist’s gut. Long fingers twitched by his groin but a shouted word restrained him.

Focus!

Right. Kevin’s turn drew near, but today it was Kelly’s moment to shine.

“This might be the only chance you ever get,” he murmured, injecting every word with his own conviction and belief.

This may be my only chance, as well.

She jolted like she’d been electrocuted. Every change in her posture revealed his success; the slumping shoulders, the bowed head, the trembling legs. Any second now… the only question was how she’d do it.

Kelly’s mournful eyes met his, the normal weariness replaced by resigned acceptance. Her lips curled into a faint smile as she released a deep breath and surrendered.

“Thank you,” was all she said.

Then she crumpled to her knees and slammed her forehead into the pavement.

Shocked gasps echoed from mouths in the vicinity, but the effect was localized. Ripples of awareness would inevitably reach the staff, but not in time to change her fate. The artist smirked and edged away, blending into the bewildered crowd to enjoy the show. He was just a face in a crowd, a bystander to such madness. A fly on the wall.

The thought almost made him laugh.

Kelly lifted her bloody face and cracked it against the asphalt again. Stray droplets of crimson splattered those closest to her, staining their white clothing with beautiful crimson. The contrast was as awe-inspiring as ever, evoking ethereal voices to sing their rapture in his mind. He stepped further into the horde, barely maintaining his view as he neared the outer edge.

“Fuck!”

Kevin. He’d do his best, the fool always did, but nothing could stop Kelly now. She rose once more, grinning wider than ever before. It may have eased the ugliness of her face if not for the shattered teeth, broken nose and scarlet lips.

A final lunge. A sickening crunch, more cast off blood splattering the masses. A hint of grey mixed in as her body went limp, limbs twitching in the last throes of her tortured life just as Kevin skidded to her side.

Beautiful.

Horrified screams spoiled the solemn perfection. Perhaps it was for the best, otherwise someone would’ve heard the drawn-out groan vibrating from his lips. He could taste the coppery tang of blood, smell the moment her bowels released. His lids fluttered closed for a single heartbeat to revel in the pulsing joy radiating from his chest down to his cock.

“What the hell happened?” someone cried.

“Jesus…” another murmured.

Just to his left, someone lost their lunch and added another facet of visceral truth to the scene. Kevin’s meaty hands wrapped around Kelly’s shoulders and turned her faceup, revealing an image too grotesque to forget. Few among the horde knew what brain matter looked like before, yet now they all possessed the macabre knowledge.

Well done, Kelly. You had a purpose after all…

Still. If he’d been directly involved, the final view may have achieved magnificence. As it was, her corpse barely qualified as art. Crude, rushed and desperate. The act of a woman without hope.

But it was enough to bring a hum of satisfaction from his throat and a thrill of joy to his deranged soul.

Several staff members rushed toward the fresh corpse. Patients screamed and cried, lost in their own personal lunacy and delusions. Pandemonium and confusion reigned supreme over the crowd.

Weaklings. Now is the time.

A pulse of searing agony accompanied the rumbling voice’s words. He hissed and rubbed at his temples, instinctively trying to ease the pain. A powerful roar followed in its wake as Shadow expressed her displeasure, curses from Vergil and Griffon a beat behind. What new fiend was this, that so eloquently stated the truth?

“Who are you?” he murmured. It wouldn’t do to draw attention to himself now, not when he was so exposed.

I am Urizen, accursed vessel.

Foreboding laughter filled his mind as his blood turned to lava, boiling him alive. Stones pelted every inch of his skin and every nerve howled its suffering. He bit his tongue to keep from screaming, yet a muffled whimper slipped through.

And then, in a flash the torturous pain vanished.

For several seconds, V didn’t dare to move. His breath came in sharp pants, a sheen of sweat shimmering on his skin. There was something different about this newcomer, a form of strength he never imagined and was powerless to resist.

Not that he tried very hard.

Seize the opportunity you created. Let fear not guide your steps, but purpose.

The artist swallowed, twinges of pain still swirling through his muscles. He knew the voice was right, but what shreds of his conscience that remained screamed for him to stay. A strange thing; that side of him hadn’t made itself known in years. Why it spoke now, he didn’t understand.

No matter. Urizen was right. He must make his move now, before freedom danced from his grasp again. It was a shame you weren’t there with him, but he couldn’t waste the chance Ken so kindly provided.

He did not run; the less attention he drew, the more likely his success. The cuffs chafed at his bony wrists and he clutched the chain connecting them to keep it silent as the shadows of branches welcomed him home. For the first time in months, where he went and what he did was his choice to make.

I am free.

But I will return.

---Reader---

Malphas sat in the usual spot at the head of the conference table. Various staff flooded the room, far too many people for the number of seats available. As with most meetings, it was first come first serve so you ended up standing near the door. Not the most powerful position, but it made for a decent view.

“Okay, everyone. Let’s get started. Aaron?” Malphas began.

The head of security stood and sighed. The weight of responsibility colored his voice as he recapped the events of three days past, the ensuing manhunt and emergency medical treatments. By the time he was done, you couldn’t help but count the numerous faces staring at you with anger. It didn’t make any sense, it’s not like you told Ken to murder Mark and start a fire.

Yet somehow, your peers thought something along those lines.

Assholes.

“Two dead, one escaped and one injured... I don’t need to tell you all how bad this looks.”

Your eyes darted to Kotomi. Her catastrophic failure mystified you; it likely always would. To break down just when people were counting on you to stand tall and keep them safe was unforgivable. What might have happened had she held it together, you’d never know.

I can damn well guess.

You would’ve made it outside in time to keep an eye on V. He’d still be here and Kevin wouldn’t be blaming himself for the first escaped patient in over fifty years. Maybe Kelly would still be alive, too.

It would’ve changed everything.

“First off, we’re going to review our safety protocols in depth. This cannot happen again,” Malphas broke in.

He paused to meet every eye in the room, the authority of his bug-like gaze driving home how serious he was.

“Second, Dr. Ishida will no longer be involved with emergency procedures. Would anyone like to volunteer to take over her role?”

Kotomi bowed her head in shame, hiding behind her silken hair as a meager few hands rose.  You couldn’t tear your eyes away from her pathetic form. Why did she even work here? It clearly didn’t suit her skills or preferences. Curiosity tugged at you, but the time to ask her was long gone.

“Until the inquiry has been resolved, Dr. Waras will be suspended from any activities on site. Dr. Waras’ cases will be reassigned to Dr. Ishida for the time being.”

The hum of the ventilation system faded away as static fizzled in your mind. Someone shifted their weight, another coughed. This couldn’t be happening, you refused to believe it.

He can’t be serious!

You’d done everything right, followed protocol to the letter and taken on more than you were supposed to because Kotomi broke under pressure. What happened in the parking lot had nothing to do with you, and Ken never showed any inclinations toward wreaking havoc. How the hell were you taking the fall for this?

“Everyone, stay vigilant. If anything further is required of you, I’ll be in touch.”

As the staff filtered out the door, whispering and averting their eyes from you, pure rage battled for control within you. After all your hard work, all your dedication and sacrifice, they were taking it all away. It didn’t matter if you weren’t found at fault, this would follow you for the rest of your career. If only Kotomi wasn’t such a damned coward, if only she’d done her fucking job...

How could she do this to me? She could’ve said something to defend me, don’t I deserve that much after listening to her stupid stories?

Only Malphas and Aaron stayed behind. Kotomi shot a piteous look at you as she left, but you only glared back. Hurt flashed in her pretty eyes and a small flame of victory danced in your chest, but it didn’t matter.

You spoke the moment the door clicked shut. “You know this wasn’t my fault.”

“That remains to be determined,” Aaron replied coolly.

“But what about Kotomi? She was supposed to do half the floor but she left with the patients! She’s the one who failed, not me.”

Malphas pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He looked so old, like he’d aged a decade in the last few days. “Y/N, I’m sorry. Kelly’s family is demanding answers and there’s an uproar in legal. It was your patients who were involved, your patients who died and got injured. I know you did your best, but until I can prove it my hands are tied.”

Even through the sting of your embarrassed rage, you felt sorry for him. Being in charge at a time like this had to suck.

But still.

“Can’t you just stick me with the lower risk patients instead?”

Aaron snorted, crossing his thick arms derisively. “Not a chance. The press would have a field day, not to mention you’d get so bored you’d start the next fire.”

You pursed your lips. He had a point.

“The moment I have an alternative, you’ll know.”

Years of practice helped you stifle the urge to cry and lash out. Nothing good came from emotional outbursts, especially not in the workplace. You had to stay coolheaded and behave.

At the end of the day, the only thing in yourcontrol was yourself.

You took one last look at the flimsy conference table, the plain beige walls and inoffensive wall art. It was funny, even though the fire was on a different floor, you still smelled smoke and burning flesh. It permeated the stale recycled air like perfume, yet only you seemed to notice.

And blood, that metallic scent followed you everywhere. No matter how hard you scrubbed your skin, imagined ichor stained your hands. You couldn’t escape the fragmented reminders.

But to be cast out, like garbage?

Nothing is more foolish than to expect the world to treat you fairly.

The artist was unhinged, but maybe he had a point.

~~~~Next Chapter~~~~

#Be My Nightmare #my writing #fanfic #v x reader #reader insert #devil may cry #dmc #dmcv #tw: gore #tw: mental health #tw: suicide

[starker-stories]

An Accord (WIS), Chapter 7

I’ll be re-creating my individual chapter posts for An Accord over here on the blog that replaces starkerstories. Until I hit the current chapter, I’ll be posting daily. They’ll have links to both tumblr and AO3 chapter links. I’m sorry if that bothers people who’ve seen this all before in the tag. I’m content to leave all my other fic as AO3 only, but this is my current favorite child, so I’m spoiling it rotten.

This fic is on a weekly update schedule. Hopefully every Friday. More chapters may appear sooner if the writing is going well. Because I have 0 self-control.

Tumblr Chapter Links: ch1, ch2, ch3, ch4, ch5, ch6, ch7, ch8, ch9, ch10, ch11, ch12, ch13 AO3 Chapter Links: ch1, ch2, ch3, ch4, ch5, ch6, ch7, ch8, ch9, ch10, ch11, ch12, ch13

Tags: Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Polyamory Negotiations, Polyamory, Cheating, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Domestic Nightmare Tony Stark, Reconciliation, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, WinterIronSpider, Happy Ending, Clothed Sex, Domesticity, Peter Parker is legal age in the state of New York, College Student Peter Parker, Takes place about 2 years after Civil War. Closeted Character

Summary: “What, it’s an autonomic nerve response with you? Someone plays with your hair and you feel obliged to suck his cock?” ——————————————————————————————

Chapter 7:  Jar-Jar Binks

The movie thing was getting to be… he’d never admit it to Peter, but Tony found himself actually enjoying the process of slowing down his brain for two hours or so. And he’d also never admit it to Peter, but some of the movies the kid stuck on his playlist were… not bad. He liked the ones with a good plot and good writing, but if that was also accompanied with a good looking guy getting half naked in it… Peter knew his tastes when recommending eye-candy.

Nothing on the screen could compete with the sight of Bucky walking into the living room wearing nothing but a towel, his skin glistening with moisture, as he was drying his hair with another towel.

Tony pretended to be interested in the movie instead of what was off to the left of his field of vision and moving closer. He also pretended that his pants weren’t getting tighter at all.

Without saying anything, Bucky stood in front of Tony, blocking the screen. He finished drying his hair and dropped the towel on the sofa. Still silent, he unbuttoned Tony’s slacks, drew down the zipper, and took his half-hard cock out of his underwear. He leaned over to the side and opened the end table drawer, looking for what he saw when Peter got a towel (since replaced several times) to clean up their mess. Found, Bucky dripped lube over the top of Tony’s cock, wrapped his metal hand around it, coating it, and quickly finishing making Tony hard. Bucky smiled and straddled Tony’s lap. The towel around his waist slid up.

Tony stretched out as he always had before. One arm draped across the back of the sofa, on arm resting on the arm of it, fingers gripping the curve at the end a little too tightly. He leaned his head back, face tilted toward the ceiling, eyes closed, so he couldn’t notice Bucky looking at him.

Bucky reached behind himself to press Tony against his opening. With a soft sigh, he began to sink very slowly, very slowly, onto Tony’s big, thick cock. Not wanting to touch Tony any more than he had to — despite actually wanting to touch Tony very much — Bucky balanced with his hands on his own thighs as he slid lower and lower. His kept moans almost silent in response to feeling himself deliciously stretched and filled. Tony’s breaths were heavy, but their regularity was broken by silently held in responses that caused them to catch and stutter.

When he was sitting flat on Tony’s lap, Bucky rolled his hips in small, tight circles, then rocking back and forth, only to grind again as he clenched around Tony’s cock. His own was achingly hard and the towel still around him was tented and raised so far that the underside of Bucky’s cock rubbed over Tony’s lower belly and treasure trail whenever he made the rocking motion.

Years of training gave Bucky enough core strength that he was able to slide his hands further down his thighs, to his knees, and push himself straight up. He raised himself nearly off of Tony’s cock and then took him in fast and hard, forcing the air out of his lungs in a grunt. Tony almost made a sound, but balanced it on a held breath.

When Bucky rose again it was as achingly slow as when he first settled onto Tony. He’d rise an inch then slowly settle back down only to rock his hips and rub himself over Tony’s belly. Then two inches and settle. Then three. And settle. Each time he lifted himself up a little further. Each time when he lowered himself, he worked his hips a little longer.

Bucky reached the top of his slow rise and fall, with only the head of Tony’s cock inside him, the towel around his waist was dark with wetness and Tony’s belly was slick with his precome. He was sure that Tony, even if he stayed silent while doing it and deny it ever happened if he were asked, would begin raising up to counter Bucky’s movement. He remained absolutely still, his hips firmly planted on the sofa. The only acknowledgment he gave was the rapidity of his breaths, the frequency of their catch, and the flush raising on his face. Tony gave back even less than when Bucky had him in his mouth.

Tony’s self-control was a challenge which Bucky began to work towards winning. He wanted to get off, which would be easy riding a cock as thick and long as Tony’s. But more than that, he wanted to get Tony off. And even more than that he wanted to break that self-control. Even if only a little.

He’d hardly ever gotten to do this. A few times Winter was brought out to play, but that was — even in this position — never… pleasant, though he did learn the skill. Before, when he was younger, it was full of fear and doubt and worse, self-loathing. Especially when it felt this good. And Bucky had never felt anything that felt this good. He wanted desperately to get Tony to show his pleasure. But he couldn’t hold back showing his.

He’d begun trying to hold himself to Tony’s illusion of silence and restraint. He was losing the ability to do so. Barely breathed moans became louder. Joined by low grunts of pleasure and high whines of need. He tensed and then deep shudders worked through his entire body. When they peaked and then passed, Bucky bit his lips to keep his cries from breaking out. He’d been fucked before and it always (at least when it was him and not Winter) felt good. But nothing like this.

He couldn’t.

Bucky fell on top of Tony. His arms wrapped around the man’s chest, sliding between him and the sofa. His hips moved continuously. Rising and falling, rocking and grinding. His arm… his arm that could hurt… pressed gently into Tony’s back. The hard circle of light that kept Tony alive pressed into Bucky’s chest. His shudder tore through him again, ending in a desperate whimper that he buried in Tony’s neck.

Tony wrapped his arms around Bucky. His hands slid over the man’s sweat-sheened back. One rose up his spine until Tony’s hand wrapped around the back of his neck, held a moment, then went up into his hair.

“That’s it, pretty,” Tony murmured. He pressed his lips against Bucky’s hair in an almost-but-not-quite kiss. “I have you. Go on, pretty. Get what you need.”

Bucky let himself go, riding and writhing, chasing after each thing that felt good, each thing that felt better. He stopped trying to hold anything in. His body quaked, his voice broke, and it remained just out of his reach. He tried again. Ran after it, felt it slip away, whimpered at its loss. Each time he tried, he lost the chase sooner. The desire, the need, ached so much it hurt.

Tony brushed Bucky’s hair back from his face, still buried in his neck. He turned his head and put a kiss on Bucky’s temple. “It’s okay, Bucky. It’s okay,” he said softly. “You can want this. It’s okay to want this,” he added in a whisper. “Go on, pretty. Let it happen.” Tony tangled his fingers in Bucky’s hair, sliding through it, massaging his scalp. Bucky felt it build in him again. Tony felt the tension, tight around him, hot, pulsing, sliding along his length, threatening to send him over too soon but he held back. Bucky quivered in his arms, too close to move. Tony rocked his hips, thrusting steadily, rapidly into him. “That’s it, Bucky. Let go, pretty. Come for me.”

Bucky’s groan began deep, broke, caught, began again, ripped itself from his body and found its way into the crook of Tony’s neck, as he came, spilling hot between their stomachs. Panting, shaking, floating somewhere just outside his body, Bucky felt Tony thrust hard and fast up into him with sharp snaps of his hips. Tony’s heavy breaths held. His arm tightened around Bucky’s back. Thrust deep inside, he came. Tony’s held breath hitched and released on an almost silent groan of pleasure.

It filled Tony with conflicting emotions, but he didn’t let go of Bucky when it was over. He didn’t pretend nothing had happened. Not yet. Their bodies relaxed, Tony settled Bucky on top of him, guided his head into a comfortable position on his shoulder and held him. One hand soothed down his back, the other ran through his hair.

“Sorry,” Bucky said sheepishly as he sat back up on Tony’s lap after he’d calmed. He found the towel he was drying his hair with, tossed on the sofa where he left it, and started cleaning the mess from both of them.

“I’ve been messy before, pretty. Nothing to be sorry about,” Tony said. His voice was quiet, as if seeking a middle ground between silence and whisper.

Bucky ducked his head. “Not what I was saying sorry about,” he said. He finished wiping their bellies and rose from Tony’s lap. “I won’t…” He straightened the towel around his waist. “It won’t happen again.”

Tony sat up and reached out, running his fingers down Bucky’s arm, trying to catch his hand. He wasn’t fast enough. Bucky slipped away and headed down the hall for his room.

~~~~~

That was never spoken of. But then, nothing was ever spoken of. But that never happened again.

Like everything else Tony would never admit to, he’d never admit to coming upstairs to take a break and deciding against it, heading back down to the workshop, it if Bucky wasn’t sleeping on the sofa.

If he was, Tony would never admit to noticing that Bucky wasn’t always sleeping when he was sleeping on the sofa.

 When Bucky was sleeping, or ‘sleeping’, on the sofa, and Tony came upstairs to take a break, things went pretty much as they did the first time. With Tony silently pretending nothing was happening. While he was constantly petting Bucky’s hair. And Bucky was giving him a blowjob. Then they’d watch whatever movie Tony had been pretending to watch in the first place.

~~~~~

Bucky and Peter worked through all nine Star Wars movies and Rogue One, with exactly the same activities as they had done before. Then Peter insisted that since he’d only seen them once and any Star Wars movie required repeated viewings, they started back up at Phantom Menace.

“Oh you are NOT!” Tony said when he came home and saw an enormously large Jar-Jar Binks on his giant TV screen.

“Peter is show mesa dha prequels,” Bucky said in Gungan.

Peter laughed so hard that Bucky nearly rolled off his lap.

Tony pulled his watch over his hand and blasted the TV with his repulsor. “That’s enough of that.” He glared at Bucky. “If you talk like that again…”

Bucky landed in the space between the sofa and the coffee table, Peter followed and they both were laughing so hard they were tangled up in each other.

Tony stopped, blinked, cocked his head to the side, and considered the position he saw Peter and Bucky on the sofa in before he saw an enormous Gungan profaning his TV. Peter sitting in Tony’s spot. Bucky’s head in his lap, facing the TV. He looked back and forth between Peter and Bucky as he recognized the position.

“What? He can suck you off but not me?” Peter said, fake-miffed.

“Wha…” Tony looked between the two again.

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Bucky said, disentangling himself from Peter on the floor and scrambling to stand up.

“No, no. I mean… uh… fuck.” Tony ran his hand up into his hair. “I guess we need to talk.”

“You think?” Peter said. “Though it mighta been nice to talk before you put your dick in his mouth.”

“Baby, it… Fuck… I’m sorry.”

Peter rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I swear to god, if I catch your cock in anyone except me or Bucky…”

“There’s an exception to you?” Tony asked Peter, arching his eyebrow.

“I guess that’s what we need to talk about,” Peter said. “Bucky, you don’t get to slink off to your room. It was his cock, but it was your mouth.”

“It was your cock, too,” Bucky muttered to Peter. “Just as many times as it was his.”

Tony laughed. “What, it’s an autonomic nerve response with you? Someone plays with your hair and you feel obliged to suck his cock?”

Bucky, finally frustrated by over two months of denial winding its way through the penthouse, boldly walked over to Tony and gently ran his hand up into Tony’s hair. “I dunno, Tony. What’s this make you want to do?”

Tony reached up, grabbed a handful of Bucky’s hair and pulled him down into an absolutely filthy kiss. When Bucky went to let go of Tony’s hair, Tony put his hand over Bucky’s and held it there until he started playing with his hair again. He nipped his lip, let them both catch a breath, and then began kissing him again.

“That,” Tony said, when he finally broke their kiss, “is what it makes me want to do.” Bucky was standing there, eyes half-closed, lips parted and bruised, stunned and panting.

“Bucky dot e x e has stopped functioning,” Peter said smiling as he slid up along side Tony, wrapping his arm around the man’s waist.

“Fuck,” Bucky breathed out softly as his world came back into focus.

“Hey, pretty,” Tony said, stroking the side of Bucky’s face gently. “You okay?” he asked with a smirk.

Peter gave a soft chuckle and leaned against Tony’s shoulder. “He kinda breaks you with that,” he said to Bucky.

“Yeah.”

#starker #winterironspider #WIS An Accord #Von writes stuff

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Severed Bonds (Chapter 13)

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

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

Notes: It’s been a while, so as a reminder, please read the tags!

Severed Bonds: a Spicyhoney SW AU

CH1 | CH2 | CH3 | CH4: Interlude | CH5 | CH6: Interlude 2 | CH7 | CH8 | CH9 | CH10 | CH11 | CH12 |

Read Chapter 13 on AO3

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Read it here!

~~*~~

When Edge woke again, it was still ship’s night. He didn’t remember falling asleep while trying to concoct a plan to deal with Rus’s nightmares, but a glance at the chronometer told him it had only been a few hours. The bed next to him was empty, not entirely unusual, but the faint rapping on the door was. Something was stirring in the Force, he could feel it. Not a warning so much as an ominous hum. It made him cautious, but the only thing on the other side of the door was BD-7.

It let out a quavering, uncertain sound and that alone gave Edge pause. The little droid had proven to be almost foolishly bold, so for him to be unsettled was cause enough to be wary.

“What is it?” He slid on his boots and hooked his lightsaber to his belt, following the little droid out into the ship proper.

He heard it before he saw it, rustling and loud muttering, the sound of things being slammed around. He knew it was Rus before he even reached out to brush against his shields. But they were seamlessly tight, no give at all beneath his light probe, rebuffing any mental touch.

“Stay here,” Edge murmured. The small droid’s mechanical face was impressively expressive. He didn’t make so much as a beep and it was apparent that he was not keen on this idea. But Edge would not relent; Rus was less likely to try to hurt him and even if he did, Edge was far better equipped to handle it than one droid who didn’t even reach their knees, whose only weapon was a welding tool.

Edge inhaled slowly, settling himself in calm, and stepped into the crew cabin. And directly into a wreck; data rods and star maps strewn everywhere, equipment Rus had been working on smashed, even what looked like a few of their cups shattered into rubble on the floor. Impressive considering that the plasticine should have been unbreakable. Rus was sitting at the table with yet another map laid out in front of him, scribbling on it with an old-fashion stylus. The slashes of black were barely legible and mostly consisted of foul swearing, in every language Edge knew and several other besides.

The dark shadows staining beneath his sockets were stark against the paleness of his skull, but Russ’s eye lights were blazing unevenly, symptomatic of whatever was currently haunting him and Edge only stood there, aching; it was as if every step of progress they’d made towards some kind of sanity had broken along with the cups.

“i don’t know where we can go,” Rus said suddenly, breaking the silence. He was only half-dressed, in his trousers with his tunic hanging open, exposing his rib cage. For all that he was sitting, there was a manic energy around him, his legs jittering, the bare bones of his feet clacking against the deck as he frantically wrote, “we can’t stay here much longer, we’ve already been in one place too long, but i don’t know where—“

He raked the stylus suddenly over the map, ugly, looping scrawls of blackness, then cast it carelessly aside. It fell like a dying leaf, settling silently on the floor with the others.

Cautiously, Edge stepped closer, studying the scattered maps. There was one hanging off the table as yet unmarked and he saw a name he recognized. Pinching the corner between two fingers, he pulled it loose, studying it. “We could go to Ebott.”

Rus stilled and the peculiar heaviness in the air grew. “that’s an incredibly stupid idea.”

“we’d blend in!” It was true; Ebott was their home planet and there would be plenty of their species there. Surely no one would give them more than a second glance, especially if they dressed to match the natives. They’d be nothing more than faces in a crowd, unremarkable.

“we’d stand out like a pair of fools begging to be shot square between the sockets!” Rus countered, sneering, “it’s obvious to anyone who looks at us we’re from two different clans! how exactly do you plan on explaining that?”

"I…" Rus was right, he realized. He had no memory of living on Ebott himself, they'd both been taken by the Jedi when they were still babes in arms. But his own people, the Fell clan, were reported to be violent, warmongering ones and the Swap clan were strictly pacifists. There would be few reasons for them to travel together on that planet unless--

Rus smirked suddenly and his laugh was sharp enough to cut, to leave thin slashes on the surface of Edge’s soul, “ah, i see. you were hoping to pretend i was your slave, is that it?"

“No. No, I would never…” Edge whispered, horrified. He should have backed off, shouldn’t have spoken at all. But Rus’s eye lights were brightening, glowing savagely and his laughter was a bittersweet poison, echoing in the small room.

"if that's how you want to play, you only needed to ask," Rus swept an arm over the table, sending data rods and star maps flying, scattering across the messy floor. He lay back on the cleared table, spreading his legs wide and crossing his arms over his head at the wrist. "i know how to play this one. Come on, master, take what you want."

Edge didn't move, frozen, only the agitated throb of his soul within. He couldn’t move, staring in bleak horror at Rus writhing on the table, on the scarred bones of his rib cage, the savage darkness of Force gathering around him. Some distant, bitter seed deep inside him was amazed that anything Rus did could still shock him, proven when he was suddenly Force-seized and dragged forward, pulled between Rus's knees.

"yes, master, please,” Rus begged, mockingly, wrapped slim legs around Edge’s pelvis to hold him in, grinding against him. ”i'll be a good boy, oh, please!!"

Horrifyingly, his body reacting to being pressed close to Rus, hardening as he listened to those throaty cries. His cock didn't care about the sneering glitter in Rus's eye lights, didn’t care about the pain layered beneath it. Even so, Edge did not fight him, couldn’t, only allowed Rus to press and writhe against him with increasing fervor as he didn’t react.

"oh, i see, i've got it wrong." Rus voice rose again, and this time it held no mocking. His words were desperate and fearful as he pleaded raggedly, "no! no, please, no more! No more, master i can’t—" he shuddered and collapsed limply against the table, like one who’d given up, given in to degradation and it was real, too real, like a memory come to life and—

"Stop it!" Edge roared. He yanked desperately away, stumbling back, but he could still feel the press of Rus against him, the heavy hardness of his cock between his legs.

That false vulnerability was gone in a blink as Rus sat up, and he was laughing again, sharp and mocking, ”go on, jedi. go jerk off and think about me. i’ll be waiting when you’re ready to fuck.”

Edge couldn’t do this; emotions battering against his own shields, his own fear, his shame, and worse, his bitter anger, anger at Rus, at himself, because he knew exactly why Rus was so broken. And he knew who was at fault.

Edge spun on his heel and walked rapidly away, down the main corridor, through the hold and down the ramp to the planet surface. It was darker outside, the dual suns never went lower than the crest of the horizon, and only marginally cooler than before.

He sat on the end of the ramp, breathing in the hot, dusty air that was still cooler than the burn within him. He stared out at the wastelands around him, nothing but boulders and dust in sight, focused on each rock formation, studying them as he calmed. It took a long time, too long, for him to wrestle back his control and only when he had it did Edge reach for the Force. Brief, unwanted fear pierced, that this would be the time it slipped away from him, but the Force only flowed into him as it always had, cool and serene.

Only when his shields and emotions were firmly back in place did Edge venture back into the ship. Rus was gone and BD-7 was there instead, carefully picking up the data rods one at a time and stacking them. There were a lot and it would take him the rest of the night on his own.

Edge crouched down and gathered a handful of them. "Let me help."

BD-7 chirped mournfully, not a protest, but the worried sound of a friend who’d seen something they shouldn’t. With a quiet sigh, Edge patted his head, his bone fingers clattering lightly against metal.

“It’s my choice to be here,” Edge told him quietly. “I won’t leave Rus alone.” He made no mention of his past agreement, that he belonged to Rus, but it was true. He’d made his decision, thrown everything that he was into Rus’s lot, and he would stay here to whatever grim end might await them. But he wouldn’t make that choice for any other sentient. “You don’t have to stay here. We can find a safe place for you, not on this planet, perhaps the next—“

A loud blatting sound interrupted him, wordlessly telling him BD-7’s opinion on that. Edge smiled involuntarily, even as guilty relief thickened in his throat, “Very well, then. Together we go.”

Between the two of them, they cleaned up the crew cabin quickly enough. Data rods put away and the star maps set aside to be cleaned by the maintenance droids. Weariness was pulling on Edge, interrupted sleep coupled with plain exhaustion from days of hard work, but he decided to go to the mines early rather than try to sleep. The sooner they had enough credits, the sooner they could leave this wretched place.

Rus wasn’t in their room, likely hidden away belowdecks, and Edge dressed quickly in his gear, settling the mask over his skull. BD-7 clung to his shoulder as he walked to the speeder, skittering into one of the saddlebags to hide as Edge powered it on and headed towards town.

A few klicks along and the slumped shadow of the mining town was within view. Edge did not see the smaller shadows that separated out, moving behind him, the half-dawn light concealed their dust clouds as he rode on. Multiple trails that followed him through the deserted plains, growing closer, closer, traveling along behind him.

~~*~~

TBC

Next

#Spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #star wars AU #please read the tags

[space-helen]

Where Have You Been? - Chapter 1

Words: 1641

Pairing: Jack Thompson x Reader

A/N: Ok I’m pretty proud of this Series so far! Probably one of my favourite things I’ve written to date! I’ve already written the first 3 Chapters and I plan for at least 4. I’ll probably post 1 part a week but we’ll see :)

PART 1 - CH1      CH2      CH3    CH4     CH5

PART 2 - CH6      CH7      CH8    CH9     CH10

PART 3 - CH11    CH12    CH13

___________________________

“I know you’re understaffed in New York don’t try and deny it.” 

Jack sighed he knew he was fighting a losing battle against Peggy “Alright ok I’ll give them a chance. Who’ve you got for me?”

“If you liked working with me you’re really going to like Agent Y/L/N, she’s superb-” “She?” it accidentally slipped out.

“Yes Jack, a woman. I wasn’t the only female Agent. You’d never believe it but the S.O.E did recruit more than one woman into the war. She’s a friend ok, give her a chance?” “Where’s she been until now? How am I to trust she’s up to standard if she’s only coming to work now?”

“Some of us had things to deal with after the war, it changed everything for a lot of people.”

“That doesn’t answer my question Marge, what’s she been doing?”

“I can’t tell you Jack. Ask her yourself.” he grumbled. “She should be there today. Play nice and trust her, she’s one of the good one’s” 

Jack hung up the phone and walked to the window and looked out with his hands on his hips. He couldn’t deny how good Peggy was and he hoped you’d be the same, but the mystery of you not working for the SSR sooner played on his mind.

Your first hurdle had been trying to get past the girls in the telephone company, you kept telling them you were a new recruit and they wouldn’t believe it until you demanded they called the Chief, eventually the girl just rolled her eyes and let you through, she figured that if you weren’t supposed to be there they’d just throw you in a cell anyway.

You walked slowly through the SSR and took in your surroundings remembering everything you could about the place. A couple of people who you assumed were scientists were moving between labs and some Agents were walking in and out of different rooms. Each of them looked at you suspiciously as you passed.

The bullpen was bustling with work as you entered. You looked around before locking eyes with the Chief's office and began to approach it until an Agent stood in front of you with his arm out to stop you going any further. “You shouldn’t be in here. How’d you get in.” you could see the man reaching for his gun subtly.

“I work here.”

“No you don’t. Don’t try and fool me, just because you have a pretty face-”

“Agent Miller what the hell do you think you’re doing.” a man who you assumed was the Chief spoke from the office doorway, he could clearly see Morris reaching for his gun.

“I was just going to escort this woman out.”

The Chief threw his head back and massaged his forehead with his hand “C’mon guys don’t be so stupid.” he put his hand on his hips and gestured to you with the other “This is our newest Agent, Agent Y/L/N.” Agent Miller looked you up and down and relaxed his stance “Y/L/N in here now.”

Brushing shoulders with Agent Miller, you walked past him and into the Chiefs office, he gestured for you to take a seat and you obliged and put your briefcase on the floor, he took a seat opposite you behind his desk, the beautiful light of New York lighting the room in just the right way. “I’m so sorry Agent Miller treated you that way, he wasn’t here when Carter was so he’s clearly not used to women in the workplace.”

“It’s ok. I’ve had to deal with idiots like him before.”

Jack smiled “I’m Jack Thompson by the way.” He leant over his table and put his hand out to you, taking it you introduced yourself.

“Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N.” you smiled warmly at the man and he noticed how your eyes sparkled in the light.

“So Y/L/N what brings you out to New York?” he leant back in his chair and relaxed.

“Peggy told me how good the SSR was and how you needed more staff so I thought why not? I couldn’t pass up this opportunity.”

“Too busy to join us earlier? We probably could have used you, especially if you’re as good as Marge says?.”

“Marge?” you laughed

“Yeah Marge.” he gave you a sweet smile but took in your expression, waiting to see if you’d answer his question as to why you didn’t have anything on file for the past two years. “Were you busy?”

“Yeah you could say that.” you paused briefly and Jack caught a flash of a different emotion cross your face for a second but he couldn’t quite place it. “Do you have any ongoing cases right now?” 

He sat forward and his chair creaked “There’s been a ring of bank raids recently. Whoever’s doing it is usually just going for cash but sometimes goes for safety deposit boxes too.”

“Why aren’t the police department handling it?”

“It’s suspected to be the doing of some soldiers who just weren’t the same after coming back from the war. Plus we can actually get into the banks before the raids since we can predict where the possible next hit is going to be.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“If it were up to me the police department would still be handling it. Yes it’s high profile but the SSR shouldn’t really be involved.” he slid some files across the desk. “Have a look at these while you get settled, get to know the case.” He stood and pointed at a desk through his window. “That one’s yours.”

Jack opened the door for you as you left the room, placing your briefcase next to your desk you pulled your chair close. 

Your notepad was soon filling up with notes about the case and ideas about certain evidence already found ready to share with Chief Thompson. You heard the Chiefs office door fling open and you looked towards it. “C’mon boys we’ve had a tip.” The majority of the men in the room started to move out of the door. You stood and approached the coat stand to grab your Jacket. “Y/L/N where do you think you’re going?”

“With you? You’ve had a tip right?”

“How about you sit this one out. Agent Sanchez will give you a tour of the place, have a look around and watch the phones will ya?” he pointed towards a young Agent sitting in the corner of the room eating a sandwich with his legs propped on his desk.

“Whatever you say sir.” hanging your coat up you moved towards Sanchez’s desk and waited for him to get up but he just continued to eat his sandwich and read his newspaper. Rolling your eyes you cleared your throat to get his attention. “Ready to give me the tour Agent?”

He begrudgingly swung his feet off his desk and swept the crumbs from his body before standing up and spreading his arms wide “This is the SSR.” he smugly smiled and sat back down.

“As much as I love your humour could I actually get a tour of the place.” 

He grumbled “whatever, follow me.” 

The guided tour hadn’t taken long so you soon saw yourself back at your desk making notes. Other agents working on less high profile cases coming and going. About two hours after the ‘raid’ team left they were back, all talking about the suspect and possible leader of the ring who was going to be interrogated. 

You slipped away quickly and made your way to the interrogation viewing room where Chief Thompson was with another Agent. You peered at the man in the interrogation room “Chief do you have a second?”

“Yeah what is it.” The other agent left the room.

You flipped open the file in your hands “I’ve been making notes about the case and have some theories about suspects. I think the leader of the ring isn’t that man but instead a Mr Jonah Martin, he’s been unaccounted for for several weeks but before that had a pretty normal life-”

“We’re still going to interrogate this man.”

“I’m aware of that and considering the evidence you have he’s probably involved but I just thought I’d share what I’ve found.”

“Thank you for that. Was there anything else?”

“I know I’m still new but could I maybe sit in on the interrogation or view it from here?”

Jack looked towards the man sitting at the table, his eyes briefly going to the stick that he had in the viewing room. “I think it’s best for you to be at your desk for now.”

You let a breath out through your nose and nodded before leaving the room.

An hour later the Chief trudged through the bullpen, passing your desk and going straight into his office. You noticed the redness on his knuckles. You swiftly tidied your desk slightly before grabbing a cup of coffee and moving back through the pen to the Chief's office. Tapping the door you heard him call you inside and you admitted yourself before closing the two of you in. 

“I thought I’d bring you a coffee” you placed the cup on his desk as he turned around the phone wedged between his ear and shoulder as he picked it up and took a sip. As he looked at you it hit him, they’d been treating you exactly how they treated Peggy. Hanging up the phone he took a sip.

“How’d you feel about proving how good you still are and coming on a raid?” he asked nonchalantly, a small amount of guilt inside of him.

“I’d like that very much.” 

“You’re going to need to blend in as a Woman going to the bank. Be downstairs by the cars in five.” 

Next Chapter

Tag List: (open)

Jack Thompson: @fandomsandxfiles @itsmissdahliahayward

All Marvel: @marvelsangels

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#Jack Thompson x reader #marvel x reader #agent Thompson x reader #chief Thompson x reader #where have you been?

[ineffablecolors]

The Wife [17/?]

The Wife || Ch 17 ~ 6.2k || Ch1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5 Ch6 Ch7 Ch8 Ch9 Ch10Ch11 C12 Ch13 Ch14 Ch15 Ch16 || FF.NET&AO3

Summary: No one knows all that Emma has been through and certainly no one knows all that Killian has been through and being husband and wife doesn’t make them any less unknown to each other. And really, how can you help someone heal when you don’t even know how hurt they are?

A/N: This whole chapter is basically a “they touch” warning + check out the gorgeous manip @spartanguard made for last chapter!! 

After a few minutes of holding her in his arms and feeling the soft skin of her cheeks under his lips, Killian finally feels the anxious coil in his stomach unfurl and let him breathe properly. Breathe with the knowledge that he hasn’t fumbled beyond repair, that he hasn’t fallen too short, that he hasn’t ruined this tender thing – this love – brewing between them. The knowledge that his wife will stand by him no matter what – it’s foreign and overwhelming and incredible.

With the last of his tension seeping away, he finally feels the brunt of the last few days – the pounding behind his temple, the burning in his eyes, the ache along his left side, the shakiness in his legs even as he is sitting down. His head swims a little and he feels himself lean further into her. The rum in his tea and the warmth of the fire and the woman on his lap are certainly not helping matters.

He tries to shake it off and push the exhaustion down. He blinks rapidly and flexes his fingers on her hip and runs his hand up and down her side. Killian realizes what this moment means to him, he can only imagine what it means to her and he doesn’t want to bring it to an end just because he feels his eyes staying closed for half a second longer after each blink.

He can still feel the fluttering of her hands, the little sounds she makes as she presses closer to him and the way her eyes watch him – in awe, in disbelief, as if she is still trying to wrap her mind and heart around this. It makes his own heart constrict painfully in his chest and he kisses her again and again and swears to himself that this woman will never know another day in her life in which she doesn’t know how loved she is.

So when he feels the impulse pushing on his jaw, he embraces her and tries to hide his yawn in her hair – if the way she laughs softly against him is anything to go by, he is woefully unsuccessful.

Emma pulls back far enough to run her eyes over him and her right hand comes up, caressing his face from the roots of his hair to the beard that he has let grow much longer than usual in the last week.

“Can we finally get you to bed, captain?”

He lifts an eyebrow and tries to give her a teasing look but he thinks his eyes can’t open wide enough to execute it properly. The mirth on her face says that he is not wrong.

“Come on.”

She stands up with finesse that Killian can’t hope to imitate right now so he is more than willing to let her pull on his hand and wrap her arms around him as he gets up and sways a little on his feet. Emma doesn’t say anything but the way her eyebrows draw together and her hold on him tightens perceptibly is admonishment enough.

She lets him go only to put out the fire and Killian looks around for something to do with himself, careful not to let his eyes stray to the settee and the temptation to just let himself lay down and stay there for a few hours. Eventually he sees the cup next to the leg of his chair and bends to pick it up. When he straightens, Emma is standing before him with a candle in her hand and her eyes still dancing with something very much resembling amusement. Her fingers gently pray the little porcelain from his hand and set it on the table and he can’t find it in himself to protest as she leads him out of the room and up the stairs.

*****

He stumbles twice going up the stairs and the only reason Emma doesn’t feel guilty for not sending him to bed the second he got off his horse is that she would’ve hated for those doubts and fears to fester in his mind even a moment longer.

That and the fact that it’s hard to distinguish any other feeling through the all-encompassing joy and wonder vibrating in the air around her even now. It feels like his words have been etched into her flesh, into every inch that his lips touched, and her smile comes unbidden when Killian sits heavily on the bed but doesn’t let go of her hand, bringing it to his mouth instead. She knows at this point he is barely awake and aware of what he is doing but somehow that only makes it sweeter and harder for her to pull away.

She returns to him with a wet washcloth, trying for efficiency as she helps him wash his face and hand, and huffing in fond exasperation when he yawns again and nuzzles into her touch, his hair falling into his half-opened eyes.

“You’re terribly distracting,” she mutters under her breath and is met with Killian’s only semi-conscious but very firm denial.

Fortunately, she doesn’t need help getting out of the simple dress she is wearing and makes quick work of changing into a nightgown and combing her hair. Her gaze runs over the comb and pins and bottles of perfume before her, realizing that she has brought more and more of her possessions into his room. She hopes he doesn’t mind – she knows he won’t, but she makes a note to ask him properly tomorrow. She doesn’t think posing the question now will do much good.

Her suspicion is confirmed when she turns back around and finds her husband right where she left him – his real and wooden hands braced on either side of him, applying all the concentration and energy left him in sitting upright.

Emma leans her head to the side and thinks that she has never seen Killian Jones so stripped of all defenses – not when he told her the darker parts of his story, not even when he finally let her see all of him, and she feels her chest expand with the sweet knowledge that he trusts her like this. The absolutely precious sight he makes might have some effect as well.

She closes the space between them, runs her hands over his arms and presses her lips against the top of his head. The touch seems to bring him back into the present and he looks up at her, blinking slowly, his eyebrows scrunched up in endearing confusion as she smiles at him and starts undoing the fastenings on his vest.

“Oh, right, right,” he shakes his head and raises his hand to take over the task but Emma just steps further between his legs and brushes his fingers away. “I can… I can do that, love.”

The way the endearment drags and slurs a little at the end seems to prove otherwise but as she pulls the vest off his shoulders and sets it to the side, Killian stubbornly and determinately bends down to try and tug his boots off.

He doesn’t lose his balance but it takes him a fair amount of time to take care of just one and, when he reaches for the other, Emma kneels beside him and stalls his hand.

“Killian,” she cradles his face in her hands and waits for his eyes to focus on her. “You’ve taken care of everything and everyone. Let me take care of you now.”

He frowns for a long moment, trying to puzzle out her words, and when his eyes turn a little glacier she doesn’t know if it’s fatigue or emotion swimming in their blue depths. But he turns his head to the side and presses a kiss against one of her palms and doesn’t fight her when she works off his boot and then his socks. His eyes slip closed while she undoes the buttons of his shirt and he helps her tug it off his shoulders without conscious thought.

The straps crossing over his left arm are again tighter than she’d done them when he left and Emma scowls a little as she unfastens the buckles, pulls the brace off and gently rubs at the pink welts left behind.

“Emma?”

“Hmmm.”

He pulls his arm away and wraps it around her, tugging her into him somewhat clumsily and Emma presses her laughter into his neck as she feels them tip backwards onto the mattress.

“Missed you,” he presses the words into the crown of her head and Emma feels her heart squeeze and sigh happily at having him so close again.

“I missed you too.”

He hums and nods – pleased and sleepy, and she waits for a few minutes, running her fingers through the hair on his chest and the pale scars on his side, until his breathing deepens and his grip on her loosens and she can slip away and finish undressing him. Coaxing him into one of the sleep shirts she digs out of his wardrobe requires some slyness and maneuvering and brings forth a fair amount of not entirely coherent grumbling from Killian – she is certain she picks up something about how they should both be unclothed at all times and she cannot wait to turn that on him in the future.

Eventually, she blows out all the candles in the room and slips between the sheets, shuffling closer and nudging Killian onto his side so she can wrap her arm around him and press her chest against his back. As her fingers slip easily between the black and silver strands of his hair and her legs fit themselves between his, Emma feels her own muscles finally relax – warmer and more peaceful than she has felt in days.

*****

She is at sea. The vast and serene horizon seems to stretch on for eternity and the blue waves lull her deeper and deeper into sleep. She knows she must be asleep because she has never seen anything like this with her own two eyes. It’s marvelous.

She looks around – she is on solid ground and yet gliding on the surface of this borderless ocean, and she wonders if there is such a thing as a floating island. She wants to ask Killian – Killian will surely know.

The blue of the ocean loses some of its lustre and allure as she pictures his eyes and, after another look around, she decides that she wants to awake. Squeezing her eyes shut, she breaths in and smells lavender and burnt wood and Killian, and willingly lets it all pull her away from her dream.

*****

Emma blinks her eyes open slowly and sees the morning light coming in fresh and bright – the skies finally clear and almost as blue as the ocean of her dreams. They must have shifted in their sleep – Killian is lying on his stomach, face buried half under his pillow and snoring lightly, while she is draped half on top of him, feeling the gentle push and pull of his breath as his back rises and falls under her cheek.

She inches up until her nose brushes the nape of his neck and breathes him in, her arms tightening around him as she recalls the mounting disappointment of waking up without him for days. Emma stays like this for a while and wonders how she ever managed to convince herself that she did not want this. She supposes it was easier – to tell herself that marriage and family and love simply weren’t meant for her and she wasn’t going to spend her days being bitter and resentful over it – before she actually knew what it all felt like.

She has spent entire days in this house marveling at being warm and welcome, but it is nothing compared to the kind of warmth that comes from having this – from knowing that he feels as she does. It is almost incomprehensible – the idea that someone can love her as much as she loves him, but then again, if she can believe it of anyone – it has to be Killian.

The sun rises leisurely but faithfully – higher and higher, and yet Killian barely stirs. Emma slips quietly out of bed eventually, freshening up and venturing into the kitchen for a cup of tea and to make sure everyone knows that Killian is back.

Peter has already broken the news after seeing Roger in the stables but it doesn’t take away from the large smile on Ruby’s face or the glimmer in Granny’s eyes. She smiles and tells them Killian is making up for lost sleep and chases everything else to the back of her mind. She has already decided that she will talk with Killian and, if there need to be changes in the household, she will take that responsibility off his shoulders – but those are thoughts for tomorrow.

When she returns upstairs, Killian is still dead to the world and she takes the book she was using to put herself to sleep while he was gone and slips back on her side of the bed, propping herself up on a pillow. She thinks he must be waking when he rolls over and reaches a hand out for her but he just shuffles closer to press his face into her thigh and wrap his arm around her leg, and settles back down, leaving her staring down at him and sensing that her heart resides somewhere other than her chest now.

*****

Killian wakes up into a dream. He cannot remember the last time no part of him ached for some more rest, the last time his head was so light and clear and his body so engulfed in warmth and comfort – he feels years younger and better than he thought possible.

Gradually he takes stock of his surroundings – the hand running absentmindedly through his hair, the dip where his hand is wrapped around her knee, the scent of lavender and soap and Emma’s skin where his nose is pressed against her thigh, the softness of the mattress, the hardness of his cock.

Last night comes back to him, his mind ordering and calculating as his heart seems to immediately call out for the woman beside him. He wraps his arm around her waist and pulls himself up, burying his face in her stomach and kissing her through her nightgown. Emma gasps in surprise above him and he grins against her as he nuzzles further into her.

“God, you better not still be asleep.”

He laughs and looks up at her, his heart finally content as he drinks in the sight of her – pale skin, golden hair, the top of her gown undone and her eyes shining down on him as she pushes his hair off his forehead and bends down to press her lips against his. Killian raises himself on his elbows and meets her half way – trying to pour the longing of six days of not waking up beside her into his kiss.

When he pulls back, there is a question in her eyes, lit by expectation and exhilaration and so much tenderness that he almost goes to hide his face against her again. Instead he focuses on the question and, without letting his mind weigh in on the matter, he takes a firm hold of her and tugs her down. The surprised, breathless sound that leaves her lips makes him press himself against the inside of her thigh until it turns into a moan that he is determined to hear again very soon.

She doesn’t need much time to fall into step with him and before he knows what’s happening, her hands have slipped beneath his shirt and are urging his arms up and the fabric over his head. Her skin is warm and so very soft as he kisses the curve of her shoulder and reaches under her shift, running his hand over her inner thigh until he finds something in his way.

“Emma,” it’s not quite a whine but it’s probably the closest he has ever come to sounding petulant. “I thought you weren’t fond of undergarments.”

Her laughter is crystal clear and absolutely delightful.

“A woman goes without one time and rumours start spreading.”

He leans his head to the side and studies the pink of her cheeks and the way her breasts rise and fall rapidly and thinks that there can be nothing about her that he will only want one time.

“I merely wish to encourage and promote your comfort, love.”

“But, of course,” she says in a tone that tells him that his motives have been judged and assumed to be much less pure. “Perhaps you can take a more active role in promoting my comfort.”

Emma angles her hips up and he wastes no time in dragging the offensive garment down her legs, while she gathers the ends of her gown and whisks it over her head.

“Bloody hell.”

He slips his hand and stump up the beautiful curve of her waist and plants his lips in the space between her breasts. Her hands cradle the back of his head and guide him shamelessly to her breast and Killian grins proudly at her boldness, only too happy to oblige her.

By the time their lips meet again and his hand slips between her legs, stroking and teasing, he finds her wet and pliant, her legs spreading wider to make room for him to settle between them. Killian pulls back and swallows roughly before he finds her eyes, trying to temper his own desire and gauge hers.

“Emma—”

“Yes,” she nods briskly.

He hisses in surprise and pleasure, dropping his head on her shoulder as she runs her nails lightly over his nipples and down his chest, before making quick work of his laces, their feet kicking each other without much coordination while trying to get rid of his pants.

When her fingers skim lightly over his cock, he rushes to capture her wrist and pull her hand away, setting it over his wildly beating heart.

“Aren’t we—“

“That we will, love,” he says breathlessly and presses his lips to hers for a second. “Are you certain?”

She nods again but there is something almost regretful lurking in her eyes that Killian is not willing to ignore. He skims his own hand over the place where her heart is beating hard before he gently presses his fingers against the edge of her jaw, the question written plainly on his face.

*****

She sees the hesitation on Killian’s face and feels it in the way he holds his body over hers – tense and unmoving, and she is not sure she can put into words how certain she is about this, about him. How much she wishes she knew that it could feel like this – when you trust someone, when you want to please them and know nothing would please you more than being with them.

Her fingers curl where they rest over his heart, as if they could gather it in her grasp.

“I just… I wish I’d only ever been yours.”

“Oh, Emma,” his face shifts and his eyes soften, his palm inching up to cup her cheek as he leans down and kisses her softly. “You’re mine now and I’m yours. And I want you just as you are.”

She feels her eyes fill with tears as her heart settles even further into his possession and protection and when she surges up to capture his lips, there is nothing soft or cautious about her kiss. She strokes her hand over the small of his back and presses down and, thankfully, Killian seems to understand because in the next moment his hand moves between them, his fingers running over her center once more before she feels him press himself against her. He kisses her cheek and bring his lips below her ear.

“Tell me, if you need me to stop, alright?”

She nods even though she finds it hard to conceive of a world in which she would want him to stop now. As he starts pushing inside, she sucks in a sharp breath and feels his hand flex where it has settled on her hip.

“Alright, love?”

She swallows, focuses on his eyes and lifts her hips up. He slides the rest of the way with a slight burn that dies down as she feels him come flush against her. He kisses her forehead and the bridge of her nose and then slips his tongue inside her mouth, rocking gently against her without really moving.

She has imagined this – more and more as the weeks passed, but her fantasies – let alone the memories that she has tried to suppress – are nothing like the real feel of it – shattering and soothing and almost unbearably full. When his lips trail down her neck and press against her chest, the laugh bubbles out of her breathless and joyful and she feels Killian’s smile against her heart and his warmth all around her and inside her.

It’s a moment that stretches endlessly with his hips pressed into hers, his forehead resting above her chest and his deep breaths pushing into her as they stay locked together. Slowly she brings her hand to the back of his neck and starts to explore the sensations inside her, squeezing her muscles around him.

Killian’s moan sounds almost pained as his hand moves up to her waist and squeezes her in turn.

“I’m sorry.”

His chuckle is choked and heavy and she feels it inside. Fuck.

“What are you sorry for, my queen? Feeling absolutely divine?”

He lifts his head and looks down at her – his eyes are almost black and his tongue runs quickly over his lips and Emma knows she has never felt more wanted in her life. She has also never wanted more.

He pulls out as he kisses her again and then slowly slides back in, again and again, building something she can’t quite identify until little sounds start bubbling out of her on every push, until both her hands clutch at his back at every pull.

“Killian, Killian. Oh, please, I—“

She can’t find the words for what she wants from him – she wants more, she wants exactly this, she wants this for an eternity, she can’t stand it a moment longer.

“Tell me. Tell me what you want, Emma.”

“I— I don’t know.”

He grabs her ankle and guides it to his waist, she follows his lead and when he rises up slightly, sinking deeper into her, she thinks that this, this is what she wants, but then he leans forward, the hair on his chest rubbing against her breasts, and that, that is what she wants.

What she wants keeps changing but it always seems to be exactly what he is doing.

“Love, I can’t—“

She can’t hold the whimper that leaves her when he pulls back and sits up with them still joined together. His hand moves between them and strokes her right above where she can feel him until he finds that spot and she fists the sheets on either side of her and tries to keep her eyes on him for as long as she can – his hair is an absolute wreck and the pink lines down his chest and stomach are probably her doing and she has never imagined that she could find sweat appealing – but then he presses harder and she drops her head back. Some part of her mind is aware that she screams out but she has no notion of what or how loudly and she does not care – no part of her cares about anything but the feeling coursing through her body and Killian, Killian, Killian.

She is panting for breath, her legs have slipped back to the mattress and her hands are reaching and trying to hold onto him as he pulls her hips closer – his movements less fluid and much faster. When he leaves her completely she is caught somewhere between a drawn out moan and cursing his name. She watches him wrap his hand around his cock and move sharply up and down – it looks almost painful and she instinctively reaches to replace his grip with her own.

“Fucking hell. Emma— please, love.”

He seems willing to relinquish control then, leaning back down to kiss her – his lips more desperate and demanding that he has ever been, and Emma has barely found a rhythm when she feels him spill himself against her thigh, his breath leaving him quickly and his whole weight pressing down on her for the first time.

“Heavens above.”

She giggles and presses her words into his sweaty hair.

“You must decide if I am from heaven or hell eventually.”

Killian groans and laughs against the hot skin of her neck, his lips and tongue pressing hard against her pulse and drawing a needier sound than she thought herself capable of. He lifts his head, his hand coming up to push the damp strands away from her face, and smiles at her.

“You are neither. You are mine.”

The words send another small wave of pleasure through her whole body and when he goes to lift himself off her, her arms and legs tighten around him, unwilling to part with the feel of him. Killian pretends to resist her for a moment before he huffs and pillows his head on her chest again, looking at the world outside.

“Christ, how long was I asleep?”

Emma slips her hand over his neck and tugs on the ends of his hair.

“You needed rest.”

“I need to sort—”

Her hand covers his mouth, his fingers hooking under his chin and drawing his gaze back to hers.

“Killian, my heart, not yet. Please.”

He looks at her and nods, his arms slipping more securely around her as his shoulders soften again.

*****

He manages to keep quiet as they clean up and decide that nourishment is not worth putting on clothes just yet. But as she settles into his side and he feels the gentle movements of her hand playing with the greying hair on his chest, he can’t hold on any longer. He needs her to know, needs to reassure her and explain.

“The house is safe.”

Emma sighs heavily and rolls further into him, crossing her arms on top of his chest and resting her chin on them. Her face is calm and her eyes watch him patiently and when he starts, he is not quite sure when he will stop.

“I will do everything I can not to let anyone go. Granny and Ruby, of course. Peter, if I can keep the horses. Otherwise I will send him to Liam but I don’t think— I’ll have to go into town. Sell some stock. That should cover most of it. Some art pieces maybe. I will have someone come take a look at— I will let you know beforehand, of course. Perhaps you can visit you friend Mrs Nolan or Elsa and—”

“Why would I have to visit someone?”

She sounds genuinely perplexed and he runs his hand up and down her bare back, marveling at the solidity and tenacity of her.

“It’s not the most flattering affair. Having art speculators and dealers at one’s house.”

Emma’s eyebrow rises incredulously and he sighs.

“Emma, I— I cannot tell you what it means to me that you… that you’ve taken this so well. But I want to spare you—”

“That’s what worries me.”

His eyebrows draw together in confusion and one of her hands comes up, running over the deep lines of his forehead in a move that sends him right back to the indescribable feeling of waking up beside her and feeling her hands on him.

“I don’t want you to spare me anything. I want you to let me help.”

“Emma—”

“I know I can’t do much,” she hurries on, self-conscious, almost contrite and he wants to tell her that she could probably fly, if she put her mind to it. “But I want you to tell me what you are doing. I want you to share the things that worry you and I want you to let me do whatever needs doing in the house – cutting expenses or welcoming art dealers or whatever it is that you decide on. Can you do that?”

He looks at her carefully. He doesn’t doubt that she can do all that and more, as he studies the beseeching look in her eyes, he doesn’t even doubt that she wants to. It is himself he doubts. Whether he will be able to let her see him trying to put things in order and potentially stumbling, potentially failing. Killian has long made peace with failure. It’s the idea of letting others see it that makes his shackles rise.

Then again, he thinks, his failures are as much a part of him as his triumphs and for once he cannot bear the thought of cutting himself into parts – of having Emma love only some of him. With the weight of her form on top of him, the feel of her nails scratching lightly at his skin and her hair tickling his side, he has already grown greedy and he already wants all of her for all of himself.

“Alright.”

“Alright?” she sounds cautiously pleased and he shakes his head in wonder.

“Aye. You can captain this ship with me – float or sink.”

“Float or sink,” she lifts herself up a little and sticks one of her hands out.

It takes him a moment to realize she wants him to shake on it and he stifles his laugh long enough to oblige her before he gives a sharp tug on her hand and kisses her firmly.

“You are a very peculiar woman, Mrs Jones.”

She shrugs her shoulders and ducks her head and he puts his stump under her bottom and urges her up until she is hovering over him, her nose brushing his and her eyes unable to hide from him.

“And I love you very much.”

Her smile is blinding and he just lets her grasp his face and kiss him to her heart’s content. It’s hardly a sacrifice.

*****

“You’re too good to me.”

She rolls her eyes and smiles at the way Killian’s eyes run excitedly over the plate she has set before him. It is the product of the only time Granny managed to persuade her to leave the home while he was gone, making that trip to the confectioner’s with Ruby and picking all the sweets she was certain he will like.

“As if that were possible.”

She gathers her skirts and lowers herself on the floor beside him. He has a complex mosaic of papers spread all around him and he hasn’t had much other than toast and tea since they got out of bed but she decided to allow it since she was given permission to help and he agreed to put nothing but a pair of trousers and a flowing white shirt on. She makes use of the latter now as she sneaks her hand under the cotton and strokes her fingers over his side.

“Emma,” it’s a warning wrapped in a plea and she hides her self-satisfied grin in his shoulder and inspects the document in his hand.

“What is this?”

“It’s my share in Captain Nemo’s small fleet. This one should be easy. I’m confident Liam wouldn’t mind taking it off my hands.”

She doesn’t say that Liam wouldn’t mind helping him out without anything in exchange. She is certain Killian knows that and she is certain he will not take advantage of it and she doesn’t fault him for it.

“It’s other less conscientious gentlemen’s businesses that haven’t prospered all that well over the years that I might have trouble selling my shares from.”

“How much did those two men want anyway?”

“Oh, it wasn’t those prats that were hard to buy. It was Mrs Hood that drove the hardest bargain.”

“Wait, wait,” she pulls back and stares at him incredulously. “You had to buy off her own mother?”

Killian sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t wish to say that she has no love for her daughter but… it obviously doesn’t extent to “this level of inconsideration, impropriety and depravity”.”

She shakes her head in disbelief and Killian takes her hand and pulls her back to his side.

“I don’t think many people would react much differently,” he says with resignation and Emma presses her lips to his shoulder.

“I’m glad they have you.”

Killian huffs a little and ducks his head, tilting it from side to side as if weighing her statement. He inspects the delicacies she brought and takes a bite of a candied plum before offering her the other half.

They spend the next hour arranging and rearranging their limbs in front of the fireplace, going through most of Killian’s personal assets and devouring a questionable amount of chocolate and sugar-coated fruits and biscuits.

*****

She is staring at the fire, watching a piece of wood snap in two and send up a small burst of sparks and dust, her hand finding its way beneath Killian’s shirt again without conscious thought, when she feels his long fingers close over hers and still her movements. Emma looks up at him in question, before she feels the raised skin under her fingertips.

“Sorry. You said they don’t hurt anymore.”

She flattens her palm over his ribs, her thumb fitting perfectly over one of the horizontal scars.

“They don’t, love. They are just ugly reminders of past pain.”

She frowns.

“They are not ugly.”

Killian scrunches up his face in a way that she thinks would look much more befitting on a much younger version of him.

“I know you don’t mind about that. But you don’t— you don’t have to touch them.”

She frowns harder and runs her thumb over the scar.

“I didn’t mean to, my heart. I was just exploring. They are interesting.”

She supposes that explanation is much more befitting of a much younger version of her as well.

“Interesting?”

He fixes his eyes on her, doubtful and somewhat suspicious, but she can see the little tendrils of amusement trying to sneak in. Emma just shrugs and slips her hand along his side.

“Well, yes.”

Killian shakes his head but doesn’t protest further. She slips her hand out and sets it over his left forearm.

“Does this hurt?”

When he doesn’t flinch away, she gets at the skin underneath. There aren’t scars at the end of his arm so much as it all feels like one big scar – unnaturally smooth in places and unexpectedly raised in others and undeniably strange to the touch.

“Sometimes,” he answers her honestly. “It’s not pain so much as… an ache. More after journeys or long days, I suppose.”

She rubs the heel of her hand over the inside of his wrist and upwards, where the scars resemble the ones on his side and there are shallow welts left into his skin by his absent brace.

“Because you have it encased in all that leather and metal at all times. You don’t have to wear it when you are home, you know?”

She doesn’t want to overstep. She can’t imagine what this feels like, if he wears his wooden hand for convenience or comfort or to hide from the world. But she is sure that having it on at all times can’t be good for him.

She glances at Killian cautiously and sees him open his mouth to protest but then he seems to give her words some consideration, rotating his left shoulder and turning his wrist a little in her hand, as if testing the feeling of spending the day like this.

“Maybe.”

It’s more than she expected to receive right away, knowing how long he has dealt with and decided those things without having another’s opinion.

“Could you promise me something?” she asks earnestly and, when he turns his head to look at her properly, she knows he is not giving her platitudes but means exactly what he says.

“Anything I can.”

“Promise to tell me whenever you are in pain. Whenever you need…”

“Help?” he doesn’t sound insulted or hurt, just a little perplexed.

“Me.”

The corner of his mouth twitches but he lowers his gaze and poses the question to their hands.

“And if I need you always?”

“You don’t,” she tells him truthfully, expecting the frown and the protest gathering on the tip of his tongue. “But I hope you want me.”

“More than you could ever know.”

*****

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[carmenxjulia]

You Never Did Get My Name Ch8

Title: You Never Did Get My Name, Chapter 8

Description: Just casually sleep in the same bed as if it doesn’t mean anything. It’s fine.

[Read on AO3]

Carmen thrashed in her sleep, anxious dreams filling her subconscious. Her breath came in rasps, as if she was fighting to get enough air. The commotion eventually roused Julia, when her houseguest's movements removed the comforter from her body.

"Carmen? Carmen?" Julia's hand was on her shoulder, trying to wake her, or at least, draw her far enough out of her subconscious that she settled down. Her skin was damp with sweat, and Julia at first pulled back when she felt the unexpected dampness. "Carmen!" she called, louder.

That was enough to send her bolting upright, whirling on the agent and knocking her back with her shoulder, slamming her balled-up hand into the pillow Julia was laying on, barely missing a direct hit.

Julia yelped, bringing her fists up to shield her face, startled by the unprecedented attack. She waited with bated breath for Carmen's next move, unsure if she was still asleep and dreaming somehow. She stared up at her in the darkness, trying to determine if she should say something or even if she should move at all. She could call her name again, but that might trigger another strike. One that might not miss.

It suddenly became painfully obvious to Julia that she didn't actually know Carmen all that well. Yes, they'd met a couple of times, had intriguing conversations, and even talked about their personal lives a bit. But before they'd met, for all Julia knew Chief and Chase were right, and Carmen Sandiego really was a villain. She had already admitted she stole things in order to return them to their rightful owners, and Julia had bought that. There was evidence it was true, but, there was still a real possibility that she was wrong. And regardless of how she felt, in reality she had invited an international criminal to stay the night.

Carmen's eyes widened in the darkness, as the fog of sleep lifted and she remembered where she was and who she was with. "Sorry, I- I-" she didn't know what to say. She'd never shared a bed with anyone in her life that she could recall. She'd never woken up from a nightmare and not been completely alone, left to pace by herself in an empty hotel room or walk the dark streets trying to clear her head. This type of companionship was so new and foreign and Carmen almost didn't realize her fist was still planted firmly in the pillow and her legs were on either side of Julia, essentially straddling her.

"I'm sorry," she quickly moved off, sliding as far as she could to the other side of the bed. She rested her back against the headboard, curling her knees against her chest as she concentrated on evening out her breathes and returning her heart rate to normal. She'd done a lot of these calming exercises in the past several weeks.

"Bad dream?" Julia's warm, inviting voice pierced the darkness. She propped herself up on her elbow and turned in the direction of her guest.

"Maybe I should go," she ran a hand through her wild mane of hair. "I don't think I'll be getting anymore sleep tonight."

"I can stay up with you, if you'd like."

"You don't have to do that. You need your rest."

"You need it more. You're still recovering."

"Touché."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"It's nothing, really. I've been in plenty of close encounters. I've taken hits from enemies. Fallen off moving vehicles. Jumped from buildings. I never had nightmares about any of that. I never felt afraid until-"

Carmen paused, wondering how much of her life she should let spill out to Julia. Still unsure if she could trust her. And yet, what reason did she even have not to trust her? Julia Argent, special agent of A.C.M.E., and technically her enemy, had not only agreed to meet up with her once, but twice. And this second time, she'd invited her to her personal residence, actively going out of her way to show she cared by asking her to stay the night. If anything, Julia had every right to be offended, given how much faith and trust she'd put in Carmen, if she had actually known about the conflict going on inside of her head.

"It's fine," she continued. "I didn't die so I shouldn't- I shouldn't be so focused on it. It's over. I know I need to be more careful. I've taken the situation and learned from it. I just got over that coat dream, now this? It's like I can't stop thinking about it. I can't get it out of my head I- I need to get back in the field so I can get focused again. Keep my mind off things."

"Running away won't solve your problems."

Something in what Julia said resonated with Carmen. Running away from the island was what got her here. Running away from V.I.L.E. agents was what got Chase captured. Running from the authorities was why she constantly had to be in hiding. She was always trying to escape from something, someone. Enemies, her past, her feelings. But no matter how much she ran, she never felt like she had gone far enough. She never felt free. No matter where she went, V.I.L.E. would always be a part of her.

"Then what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to-" she stopped, and Julia noted her voice had gotten thicker near the end, a little more hoarse, like some trace of emotion was about to bubble to the surface.

Carmen swallowed the lump in her throat, but her mouth still felt dry.

"-to cope, knowing one of my best friends doesn't even know who I am? Knowing what they did to him is probably my fault. Knowing I put people like Chase in danger, just by their association with me. How can I know I'm not in bed with the enemy? How can I know who to trust? How do I know someone else won't get hurt because of me?"

Julia felt around in the darkness for Carmen's hand, because it felt like the right thing to do in the moment. She clasped it in her own, giving a comforting squeeze to try to reassure the woman next to her. She had yet to have a near-death experience (although given her line of work, she was sure it was only a matter of time), and knew she couldn't begin to imagine the psychological repercussions of such an event.

But empathy, she had, and could offer consolation even if she didn't fully understand. "I'm not your enemy," she began, "I never wanted to be. We both seem to want to do good in the world, just in very different ways. I may not entirely agree with your approach, but, it is often more effective than the efforts of local law enforcement, interpol, or even A.C.M.E. And there are others you work with, right? Your team? They must believe in you and your cause.

"Sometimes bad things happen to the people you care about. You can't always be there to protect them. And the only way to protect yourself from feeling like things are your fault is to stop caring about anyone. What kind of life is that? We can't just stop caring. About the people we know. Those we don't, but are trying to protect. You can't blame yourself all the time. People get hurt; on purpose, on accident. It's not your fault. It can be hard to accept things that are out of your control, but eventually you have to. Otherwise you'll spend your whole life worrying, and you still won't be able to control what's happening all around you."

Carmen let out a long, slow breath as she processed all of what Julia had said. She squeezed Julia's hand, acknowledging its presence and silently communicating her gratitude to the agent. She felt the appendage in her own, the weight, the smoothness; and the feeling that stirred somewhere inside her as she became acutely aware of the touch. She was always so perceptive of the world around her, the people passing by, the way the wind moved the leaves on the trees, how footsteps sounded or the distant barking of a dog. Minute details that others missed were crucial to her precarious escapes, and it was part of what made her the best at V.I.L.E.

"Why am I here?"

"I'm not sure I'm prepared to handle such an existential question at 4 in the morning-"

"No. Why am I here? In your apartment? In your bed? You've been chasing after me and I've been avoiding you and now we're just pretending like none of that happened? Acting like your job isn't being compromised and my friends aren't in danger because of our association?"

"You're the one who initiated contact and suggested we leave out our conflicting lines of work."

"Yeah. I did," Carmen let out a single "ha" in the dark, that sounded halfway between a laugh and a sigh. "And you, you didn't report me to Interpol or A.C.M.E. or anyone. Why?"

Julia had already asked herself that question, earlier in the week, while anticipating the arrival of the super thief. "You haven't tried to hurt me, so I suppose I haven't had a reason to. And I believe you're doing good work, even if your methods are unorthodox. What do you gain by stealing from thieves and returning the items without asking any sort of compensation?"

"It has to do with people from my past. They exploit those less fortunate. It's not always about paintings or documents or artifacts. Sometimes it's about trying to starve entire nations to gain control of them. Sometimes it's about destroying pieces of history. The crimes that make the headlines are just the tip of the iceberg. They're actually the ones I worry about the least. Normally when they steal things they avoid all confrontation with any kind of security. In, and out, silently. Nobody gets hurt. But there are other times when they want to hurt a whole lot of people, risk lives for the sake of their own gain. Their operation is much bigger than thefts of material items."

"That sounds like work talk," Julia yawned, too drowsy to fully grasp the severity of the implications of V.I.L.E.'s operations.

"What can I say. I trust you, Jules."

There was something in the way she said "Jules", like the word was just a bit more fragile and tender than the rest of her sentence. Or perhaps it was the admission that there was indeed a necessary level of integrity between them. She was certain she trusted Carmen Sandiego- she must, since she had freely offered the woman her home address, and now her personal sleeping quarters.

But something made her hesitate, so instead of saying, I trust you too, Carmen, she said, "Thank you, Carmen."

"Hm."

A quiet settled between them, because Julia had insisted Carmen stay, and Carmen had obliged. Staying didn't mean falling back asleep was going to be any easier, even as Julia's soft breathing helped to calm Carmen's nerves. It was nice, she decided, to wake up after a bad dream and not be alone. Sure, she'd always been able to call Player, but the physical presence of another was an entirely different experience.

"How do you usually get back to sleep after a nightmare?"

"I don't, usually. I just get up and start planning for the next mission. There's always time to sleep later."

"What about when you were younger, then? Did your guardian have any remedies or rituals for dealing with bad dreams?"

"Not really," Carmen replied. Comfort hadn't really been in the curriculum at V.I.L.E. Used to dealing with adults, the faculty at the school weren't exactly prepared to care for a child. As for her nannies, well, their role was more that of tutors, and their duties ended at a certain point in the day. Plus, none of them stayed very long, so Carmen never really grew attached. Perhaps that was intentional on the part of V.I.L.E., preventing her from forming close bonds with anyone from the outside.

She thought of Coach Brunt, who she had looked to as a motherly figure for so many years. Who was always so kind and caring towards her. All the times she'd defended her, and how she trained her to be tough. And then she tried to kill her.

Turned out it was Shadowsan, the teacher who always gave her the coldest shoulder, who had found her. Did that make him her father? Carmen didn't exactly have experience with a nuclear family. She'd never called anyone "mom" or "dad" while growing up. But she did have parents, somewhere. Someone had conceived her, two decades ago.

Julia struggled with trying to say the right thing. The topic of parentage appeared to be a touchy subject, and it seemed the general upbringing of Miss Sandiego would have to remain a mystery for now. From how dodgy she'd been regarding the matter, Julia speculated the people who had raised Carmen might somehow be connected to V.I.L.E. What sort of business did a League of Evil have with rearing a child? Were there others out there like Carmen, brought up by thieves to do their dirty work? Is that where its members came from? Children, stolen away and fostered as future villains?

"That's too bad," was what she managed to come up with. "When I was little, my mother would hum softly while she brushed my hair."

"When I couldn't sleep I'd sneak around and explore," Carmen tried to be vague on the details of V.I.L.E. Isle. Maybe set up some pranks for the new recruits, she thought, but didn't say aloud. Julia already knew too much about her association with the organization, and she had to be careful. Even though she had decided to put her trust in her, the more Julia knew about her past, the more at risk they both were.

"No one ever tucked you back into bed and read you a story or sang you a lullaby?"

"No. The island was a safe haven, away from the rest of the world. I didn't feel like anything could hurt me there. Dreams were just dreams, not reality."

"But isn't it reassuring to have someone there for you when you're having a bad night?"

"I guess I wouldn't know what that's like."

Julia couldn't imagine not having the comfort of a parent. Even now, if she was going through a rough patch in her life, her mother and father were just a phone call away. Although she still did not know the full history of Carmen's childhood, she gathered that she did not have a typical upbringing. Perhaps that helped explain her preference for working around the law, instead of with it. Still, she didn't seem too upset that she hadn't grown up in anything resembling a nuclear family.

"Would you like to try?"

"What?"

"My mother's routine."

"How do you mean?"

"Come over here and lay in my lap and see if you can fall back asleep."

Carmen considered for a moment. There wasn't any harm, was there? Julia had bade her to stay, earlier this evening and when she'd woken up minutes earlier. If she wasn't going to leave, she might as well make the most of the night. And she had to admit, she was curious what it might be like to have some form of normalcy in her life. From what she'd researched and observed, there had never been anything normal about her life. After all, she was the first and only child to grow up on V.I.L.E. isle. But she was happy then, and she had to admit, opposing V.I.L.E. and seeking adventure brought her happiness now.

"Is this alright?" she asked, head coming to rest in the crook where Julia's torso met her legs.

"Mhmm," Julia responded, lightly running her fingers through wavy red hair.

Carmen relaxed, letting herself melt into the touch as Julia began to hum. She felt completely at ease, for what seemed like the first time in her life. Interpol, A.C.M.E., Brunt, and V.I.L.E., all faded away as drowsiness returned to her. Julia had been correct. There was absolutely something soothing about being sung to sleep. For a brief moment, Carmen wondered what it might be like if this became a repeated occurence. If they might meet again, at another time, in another place. Or how their lives might be different if they could be like this forever, and didn't have to go their separate ways. But such frivolous thoughts washed away as she nodded off and returned to dreamland.

Julia, meanwhile, was contemplating how she got here. Perhaps the lack of commitment contributed to her answering Carmen Sandiego's initial message. Maybe it was because Carmen had initiated the first move. But this couldn't last. This probably wasn't meant to extend beyond the first meeting at the coffee shop, but, here they were. Soon, they would have to return to their lives and their jobs and their casual rendezvous would come to an end.

"Carmen?" she said, softly.

But there was no response, aside from the light sound of her breathing. Julia exhaled, letting herself relax. This situation was certainly… atypical, for her at least. Other than work, Julia mostly kept to herself. She was too busy traveling to really build any solid friendships close to home, and anyway, she preferred to spend her off time reading or refining her other hobbies.

Julia delicately slid back down in her bed, so as not to disturb her guest. Here she was, in a position she would have never imagined herself in. Carmen Sandiego, resting on her shoulder, forehead brushing against her neck. Their fingers intertwined. When did that happen? she wondered sleepily, not that it really mattered. She yawned once more, letting her eyes fall closed. Maybe this couldn't last. So what? At least they had the night, and, if she was lucky, breakfast in the morning. As she drifted off to sleep, her head leaning against Carmen's, she hoped she'd be lucky.

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[pynches]

risk it all (for you) ch8

a/n the final chapter is here! i hope i ended everything okay and satisfying enough. let me know <3

word count: 2573

Ronan stayed away from school the remaining days of the week. Instead, he spent his time either driving or at the Barns. He couldn’t face Adam, not after everything that had happened. It was already too much to think about the way he had been rejected, let alone see the person who still evoked the same feelings he had for a while now. Ronan couldn’t see Adam’s face without remembering how it had looked up close when Ronan could count the freckles dusting his skin. He couldn’t watch Adam smile at someone without remembering how it looked when it was directed at him; exasperated yet fond. It hurt too much.

The only reason he returned to Aglionby the next week was because Gansey had called him and begged him to go or he would be kicked off. Ronan was Gansey’s responsibility and Ronan knew it wasn’t fair to leave Gansey with even more of a mess to clean up. So, he went and got his heart ripped out the minute he entered the building.

Theodore was leaning against the lockers, one arm bracketed next to someone else’s head. A head with cropped hair that looked like it was cut with kitchen scissors. Adam.

Ronan watched as Theodore moved closer and he suddenly felt sick to his stomach. As he drew closer he noticed how Adam looked slightly flustered while Theodore’s voice was suggestive and full of confidence.

“Are you sure?” Theodore asked, leaning forward to look deep into Adam’s eyes, the way Ronan had never dared to. Adam smiled and nodded.

The bell rang and Adam turned at the sound, eyes finding Ronan’s almost immediately. Ronan didn’t know what he saw in his face, whether Adam noticed the barely contained rage, the jealousy coiling low in his stomach, or the overwhelming feeling of pure agony that made Ronan slightly dizzy but Adam’s smile slid off his face immediately.

Ronan walked away.

“Ronan!”

He didn’t turn around.

Of course, Adam didn’t feel the same. He should have known better than to listen to Blue or the other women of Fox Way. He should have trusted his gut who told him that someone like Adam couldn’t love someone like him. Of course, Adam would go for clean-cut Theodore. The boy who is accepted into society with his politician smile that everybody but him at Aglionby seemed to have. Of course, Adam wouldn’t go for the boy who scared everybody away. He wanted to fit in and all he would ever do with Ronan was stand out like a beacon that shouted: “I’m an outcast!”. Adam deserved someone like Theodore and it was foolish to hope Adam would stoop low enough to think of Ronan as more than a friend.

Ronan shouldered passed Gansey who turned his head around to do a double-take and got into his car as fast as he could. He allowed himself to lean back and close his eyes for a second, just so he was calm enough to actually drive without instantly wrapping his car around a tree in his anger. He barely noticed the car door opening next to him until he felt fabric brushing his arms.

“Get the fuck out,” he said but it lacked the usual sharpness. He was just so damn tired.

“No,” came the response and Ronan didn’t expect anything else. Adam had always been a strong person. It’s what attracted Ronan at first; his ability to withstand any glare Ronan threw his way and look him in the eyes with a certain firmness that told him Adam was not going to change his mind so don’t even try. Lesser men cowered before him, but not Adam. Never Adam.

Ronan sighed, tearing his eyes away from Adam’s and focussing on the school building instead. “You’re gonna miss first period.”

“I know.” Ronan raised his eyebrows. Adam never missed classes, all of them too important to skip no matter how many time Ronan had tried to persuade him.

“Go inside, Parrish,” Ronan said, cocking his head towards the car door. “You can still make it.”

Adam shook his head. “I want to talk.”

“Oh,” Ronan snapped, “so now you want to talk? Why now, huh? We could have talked last week when I was knocking on your door and fucking begging you to let me in.”

Adam hung his head and he suddenly looked like he had before he got his magician powers. Distant but with a tinge of vulnerability that made Ronan’s heart clench. He looked like he was going to fall apart right there. Tired eyes turned to his and Adam mumbled a quiet yet clear “sorry” which wasn’t a word either of them used often. Most of their fights were resolved over time when they couldn’t remember what the fight was actually about and one of them said something to make the other person laugh and that was the end of it.

Ronan softened a bit at the apology. “I can come by later.”

He didn’t know why he suggested this. Maybe because Adam rarely ever expressed wanting anything. Maybe because Ronan couldn’t deny him, even if he tried, especially not when Adam was slumped over next to him, his head hanging in defeat.

Adam made him weak.

“No,” Adam said quickly, shaking his head. “That’s not fair. I should come by Monmouth.”

“I don’t live alone,” Ronan reminded him. “It’s fine, Parrish. Just go, I’ll be there tonight.”

He felt Adam’s eyes flicker over his frame, his eyes searching for his but Ronan didn’t give in to the temptation to look. This was difficult enough as it was and seeing Adam this close again was going to make him combust. He already felt like a ticking time-bomb that was going to hurt everything in its range and one look at Adam would make him go off.

Eventually, Adam nodded to himself and stepped out of the car. Ronan turned the ignition and drove off, watching as Adam’s frame got smaller in his rearview mirror until he couldn’t see him anymore.

-

Adam was pacing in his apartment. Why Ronan had agreed to come, Adam didn’t know. It was unlike them to have real conversations with actual depth and it was even stranger that they were going to talk about emotions and feelings, things neither of them are good at. Ronan expressed his negative emotions through rage, through slamming doors and dents in walls. Adam kept every bad feeling inside until he felt like he couldn’t contain it anymore and then he allowed himself some time to cry and get it out of his system. But they never talked.

As Adam was waiting, he couldn’t help but picture the broken look on Ronan’s face that morning. It had hurt him to see Ronan this way, the pain clear in his features. Adam was used to seeing passed the aloofness and plain boredom Ronan liked to show instead. Somewhere, though, he was almost glad he wasn’t the only one who was hurting. It was a sadistic thought, but Adam hadn’t seen Ronan in a week and the agony of feeling him ripping apart from where he was so carefully woven into his life was threatening to drown him.

He didn’t even know what he was going to say. “Please, don’t leave me again”? That would be pathetic and Adam wasn’t and would never be pathetic. He felt it, though. The urge to beg Ronan to stay. To not leave him again without so much as a text. To hold his hand again because Adam had felt so cold without it. All things Adam wished he was brave enough to say, but knew he really wasn’t.

This time when Ronan knocked, Adam didn’t hesitate before opening the door. He couldn’t have a repeat of what happened the last time Ronan stood on the other side. He hadn’t forgiven himself for that encounter and he doubted he ever would, but he couldn’t stop crying and he didn’t want Ronan to see him like that. Weak. Pathetic. If there was even a small chance of Ronan liking him back, it would have been ruined at the sight of his wet face and red nose. He fucked it up anyway, though, and Adam doubted he could fix it but he had to try. Just one more time.

“Thanks for coming,” Adam said quietly, opening the door further to let Ronan in. Ronan merely nodded and stepped inside, standing still in the middle of the room as if he had forgotten why he was even there in the first place. Adam scraped his throat and motioned to the bed but Ronan shook his head and kept standing instead. Adam placed himself in front of him, not willing to back down.

“Say something.”

“You’re the one who wanted to talk, Parrish,” Ronan said simply. “So talk.”

Adam ran his hands through his hair and bit his lip, a nervous habit he had picked up on lately. His hair was in constant disarray, even worse than it was before and his lips were red and bruised from biting it too much. Adam let the pain ground him and looked up to face Ronan.

He was beautiful. He had always been beautiful, though at first Adam was willing to ignore that and focus on his asshole tendencies instead. Now, however, with the last rays of sunlight hitting his cheekbones, casting shadows over the rest of his face, making it even sharper and angular, Adam didn’t know how he could have ever ignored this. He wanted to touch him and nearly reached out to do so before he remembered that he couldn’t.

“You were gone for a week,” Adam said. It wasn’t what he had planned on saying but right now, he couldn’t even remember the words he had rehearsed in the hours before Ronan finally arrived.

Ronan raised his eyebrows. “I was.”

I missed you. “Why?”

“I think you know why,” Ronan answered, his eyes locked onto his own. The clear blue of his eyes was clouding, making it look more like a stormy grey in the shadows of the room.

Adam looked away first. He had always prided himself on his ability to look in Ronan’s eyes without cowering away. Not many people could say that. Not many people could make Ronan look away either, but today Adam felt as pathetic as all of the others who had tried to stare Ronan down. His presence alone filled up the entire room and beyond it. Adam couldn’t breathe.

Ronan stepped closer. When Adam looked up he could see the concern in Ronan’s eyes even though he tried to hide it well. He hesitantly raised one hand and placed it on Adam’s shoulder, the touch feather-light.

Adam’s breath hitched.

“Parrish-“

“Why did you run away?” Adam asked suddenly, shocking Ronan into ripping his hand from Adam’s shoulder. Adam felt the loss in his bones.

“What?” Ronan asked incredulously.

“Today,” Adam clarified with poorly concealed impatience. “You saw me and you left.”

“I saw you with Theodore,” Ronan said through gritted teeth. “Getting a rebound a week after breaking up is pathetic, Parrish. You’re giving yourself a bad rep.”

“A rebound?!” Adam practically yelled.

“I mean, it was fake,” Ronan said that word with the utmost distaste. “But the others don’t know that.”

Adam wanted to scream. He wanted to shake Ronan until he was starting to make sense. He wanted to stop the world from spinning. He wanted, he wanted.

Ronan.

But he couldn’t. He wasn’t worthy. So, he went for the next best thing. Making him angry so he made the choice for them.

“What’s it to you?” Adam asked cooly, fixing Ronan with a raised eyebrow. “So what if Theodore and I are together. You’re right. It was fake. It shouldn’t matter.”

“But it does!” Ronan yelled. His chest was heaving, his hands balled in fists, pressed to his sides firmly. “It does,” he said again, this time softly, his voice breaking and Adam’s heart with it.

“I said no,” Adam confessed, his eyes focussing on a crack in the wall. Anything to not look at Ronan. Because he couldn’t. Because he had to say it. He had to stop Ronan from hurting.

Ronan didn’t say anything, so Adam kept talking. The words were falling out of his mouth. He had kept his feelings inside for too long and now there was no way of containing it.

“Theodore did ask me out. I said no.”

“Why?” Ronan had moved closer, his voice a mere whisper. Adam couldn’t stop himself from looking up. Ronan’s eyes had always been made from impenetrable walls and little by little those had fallen away in Adam’s presence. Even now, in the midst of their biggest fight yet, one that could truly break them, Adam could see through them. He saw hurt and confusion, but there were little cracks of hope shining through.

Adam wanted, so he did.

He closed one hand around Ronan’s neck, the way he had done the night of the party, and brought Ronan closer. Their breaths mingled, eyes searching each other, and despite Adam’s self-doubts, despite every time he had told himself there was no way Ronan would want him too, there was a reassurance in Ronan’s eyes that made him close his eyes and move forward.

“Adam,” Ronan whispered against his lips. Adam felt a thrill run up his spine and closed the distance.

Ronan’s lips met his hesitantly, the touch light and chaste, giving Adam every opportunity to pull away.

He pulled himself closer instead.

Adam tilted his head and deepened the kiss. He felt electricity running through his veins, his skin sparking at every point where Ronan touched it. He felt alive, so alive. He could do anything.

Adam distantly wondered if this is how Ronan felt after pulling something out of his dreams. God-like. But those thoughts were quickly fading to the back of his mind as he felt the wet press of Ronan’s tongue in his mouth. Adam’s gasped which only urged Ronan on.

Somehow, Adam went from standing to lying underneath Ronan, gasping as he softly kissed his neck. Adam put his hands on Ronan’s jaw, fingers tracing his cheeks and brought him up to eye-level.

“Does this mean you like me?” Adam asked, half-joking and half-serious. He had to know. He couldn’t give himself to Ronan now if it only meant hurting again. It had to be real this time.

“For a genius, you’re pretty thick, Adam,” Ronan laughed breathily, stroking away some hair that had fallen in front of Adam’s eyes.

“Ronan-“

“Yes,” Ronan rolled his eyes but smiled down at him fondly. “This means I like you.”

Adam kissed him slow and deep this time, pulling him closer and closer. He knew there were things they still needed to talk about and issues to work on. They had to tell the others one time and explain this entire messed up situation they had worked themselves in. They were going to have to learn how to be together for real this time. But, for now, he just wanted to focus on the warm press of Ronan’s body against his, how their lips moved together as if they had been doing it for years. For now, he just wanted to get lost in Ronan and forget everything else.

tagging @theogvodkaaunt (thank you for being interested enough that you wanted to be tagged!)

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