#and strong cheekbones (because it's easier for me to remember faces that way. otherwise it's more likely that I won't recognise them)

[arttsuka]

bench cutters is considered conventionally attractive? that means i somehow am only surrounded by people who say he looks like a lizard

I mean he was conventionally attractive in Sherlock BUT that only shows how important a good haircut it. People yearn for men with longer hair.

Also his voice

[sleepylixie]

Lost Boy

Swan Prince! Felix X Princess! reader 

Fantasy AU, Retelling of the Swan Lake. 

5k words, Romance(Fluff/Angst), Beware of mentions of death(Only mentions, with respect to curses and general dark magical behaviour)

A/N: @crscendoforsung​ hallo, Soro!! Tis me, your Secret Santa!!! You’ve been such a sweet soul (That Jisung anon of yours is so cool. btw-) and I hope you like this little offering to make the end of your year a little bit sweeter! This idea seemed to fit your vibe (and Felix) too well, so I just had to give it a spin~ This here marks the start of Christmas on Sleepylixie!! As always I will be incorporating high fantasy into the stories you will be seeing and I hope all of you enjoy reading them! Huge thank you to @aliceu @decembermoonskz and @seraplantery for helping me through moments of writers block hhhh- Do let me know what you think, my ask box is open!~

Drop me an ask! || Masterlist

I love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence, and as justice loves to sit and watch everything wrong. -Lemony Snicket

The first time you met him was quite by chance. You’d broken away from your maids,  eyes glowing in the darkness as you strolled through the woods, humming an odd tune to yourself. It was a full moon night, so you’d headed out under disguise for a night time frolic in the nearby woods. You’d forgone the heavy skirts and tiaras of your royal wardrobe for the looser bodice and thinner skirts of a homespun dress your maid lent you, tendrils of breeze and grass grazing your ankles as you moved. 

All too suddenly, you stumbled  into a clearing by a lake- it was small but beautiful, almost ethereal with it’s still waters and edges disappearing into the shade of the trees. But what caught your eye was a slash of  of white against the darkness of the far shore- upon squinting, you realized it wasn’t a bird, but a boy. Evidently, he’d noticed you too, because he straightened up from his kneeling position, head cocking to the side as his eyes scanned yours.

You smiled at him uncertainly, unsure of whether you were invading a moment of privacy or worse, a moment of dark magic. Your own magic roiled inside you, careful of the possible threat this boy could pose to you. However, he only smiled back, and stepped onto the water- walking over the surface, almost gliding across the lake to your side of the shore. He didn’t leave a single ripple in his wake, almost like he was just an apparition floating right above the water. You watched in silence as he he stepped out of the lake, coming to a stop in front of you.

He was slight in build, almost birdlike- but his shoulders seemed strong under his white and gold outfit. His bright golden eyes curved softly above his cheekbones, burnished bronze hair falling elegantly over the planes of his forehead.

“Hello, mortal.” His voice was deep, instantly sending shivers of wonder down your spine. “Or should I say royal?” He smiled, rosebud lips parting slightly as he nodded at the signet ring on your finger, the only sign of your heritage. He had a sharp eye for detail, this strange boy who could walk on water. Perhaps he was Fae?

“You know of my heritage, but I know not of yours,” you hedged, not wanting to give him your name; names held power, after all. The boy grinned wider, poking his tongue into his cheek as he eyed you amusedly. “You may call me Felix, darling.”

He wasn’t Fae, after all. He was from a far off land, he said, beyond the bounds your kingdom knew of.  He was to stay in these very woods as an apprentice with a family of magic wielders and alchemists. He was an easy talker and an even easier listener; he enjoyed your accounts of the royal court and the parlour you presided over and your evenings of sneaking past the guards into the night markets.

It was a peaceful time with him, walking amongst the woods- you forgot that you were supposed to be with your maids, basking in the new companionship you’d found. You enjoyed Felix’s company, you realized as the night wound down, making way for a new dawn as Felix led you to the edge of the woods.

“You must come see me in the castle gardens,” You smiled, clasping his hands in yours. Felix eyed your intertwined hands before looking back up at your face. Your eyes were bright, your skin glowing against the soft morning sun. “It is a glorious place, you will love the magical herb-house, and oh, the fountain too-”

“I would be honoured, princess.” He bowed his head slightly, suddenly shy. “But I am a being of the night. Visiting after twilight isn’t the most becoming of a lady of your stature, I’m certain.”

Your brows furrowed; he was right, but you did not want to entertain the possibility of never meeting your new friend again. Stars knew when you’d get to sneak this far out of the castle again. “It matters not, dear friend.” you declared. “I shall slip past the guards into the garden, if it allows me to see you again. That is,” you fumbled, a wave of awkwardness invading your mind as you dropped his hands and stepped backwards.  “That is, if you would wish to meet me again, I do not mean to impose-”

“As I said, princess,” Felix smiles-no, smirks, backing up into the trees, almost melting into the shadows. “I would be honoured. Until next moon, then.”

//

True to his word, you saw him standing next to the fountain from your room balcony the next full moon. Slipping past your guards and into the garden, you found Felix gazing around in wonder, eyes bright as he took in the sight.

The wide fountain was set in the center of a large square hedge of rose bushes. At the center of the fountain was the sculpture of a long-haired mermaid with a trident in her twisted hands, face serene as water gushed around her stone-scaled tail. At night, the water shimmered in the moonlight and the soft glow of the moonflies that flitted around the area, making the scene all the more exquisite.

You loved the privacy and peace the fountain provided you, with the tall rose hedges and the flow of water. The moment you stepped into the hedge, Felix’s eyes shot towards you, widening in wonder. You were dressed in lilac gossamer, a silver cape akin to butterfly wings draped over your shoulders and a matching silver wreath woven into your hair... You looked less like the girl-next-door he met and more like the heiress of the kingdom he lived in. He averted his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck. “You… You look breathtaking, Your Highness,” he murmured, bowing low.

You giggled as you walked towards him, your skirts dragging on the grass. “Felix, please. I’m no more than the girl you met at the lake during the last moon. I plead you to not see me otherwise when I am dressed in the garb of a royal.” He straightened up and smiled at you, his demeanor relaxing almost instantly after hearing your familiar voice. He looked almost angelic in the light of the moonflies, bouncing off the glitter on his eyelashes.

“As you wish, princess.” He turned back towards the fountain, letting his fingers trail in the shallow water of the pool as he sat on the edge. “You were correct, this garden is a work of art.”

“It is, isn’t it?” You responded, sitting next to Felix on the edge of the pool, uncaring of your pretty garments. “The gardens take up a good half of the castle grounds. I love spending my nights there. The herbhouse, in particular. We grow a lot of the kingdom’s alchemical herbs ourselves, so I’d suggested we supply them to those who need it for no cost.” Felix glanced at you in surprise, his fingers twirling together two streams of water from the pool. “That’s generous.”

“It’s our duty as royals to make our subjects’ lives as easy as we can,” you shrugged, leaning your head back to watch the stars. “While levying taxes is a necessity, it felt prudent to cut down costs for a normal man and make alchemy available to all. Knowing what herbs are used for what can save lives someday.”

“That’s very noble of you, princess.” He murmured, his lips quirking up as he stared into the night sky. “I’ve seen royals that are drunk off the crown’s power to the point of greed and gluttony. But here you are, giving everything you can for your subjects. It’s admirable, really.”

“As I said, it’s my duty.” You let your attention slip to the pretty shapes Felix was conjuring out of the pool’s water. “Now, tell me, how has your time in the woods been?”

//

As you grew into adulthood, your daily responsibilities became larger, but you welcomed it. You’d trained and studied for years so you could take on the mantle of crown royal for your kingdom, and you were only too willing to make your contribution to council meetings and parlour galas alike. However, your friendship with Felix was like a safe haven from the day’s happenings, a space where you could just be Felix’s companion and not a royal with responsibilities.

The both of you grew more and more comfortable with each other, letting yourself slip into familiarity when you were together. You showed him all your favourite corners of the garden, but your favourite place to spend time together was at the mermaid fountain. You’d always meet there at the last midnight chimes on full moon nights and sit at the stone edge, talking and flicking water at each other.

He would always bring you enchanted wreaths of flower crowns that wouldn’t wilt for weeks- it was for you to remember him by until the next full moon, he claimed. You would wear them everyday until the magic wore off, counting down the days until you got to see Felix again.

The first time you met him was quite by chance. It had been almost a year since you’d begun to meet Felix in your expansive garden. He was waiting for you by the fountain, just as he had a year ago- but something was different. He’d normally be trying to catch the moonflies or playing with the pool’s water, but today he was looking straight at the entrance of the hedge, almost like he was waiting for you.

“Good evening to you too, sunshine.” You smile, walking straight into his arms, as you always did. Hugs were your way of greeting your magical friend from the woods, once you’d caught on that Felix loved physical affection. He’d normally catch you and swing you around, the two of you trying to stifle your laughter as he set you down. This time however, he pulled you closer by the waist, pressing you to his body as he nuzzled his nose into your neck. A shiver of apprehension slithered down your spine. This wasn’t normal.

You pulled back, but his arms tightened around you, restricting your movement- and that was when you noticed it. His normally gold eyes were the darkest shade of obsidian black, his lips pulled back slightly in a smirk. Instead of his usual outfit of golds and whites, he was dressed in stark red and black, making you stumble back at the realization. In your haste to see him again, you hadn’t noticed his clothes, demeanor or eyes, none of which alluded to the boy you were used to meeting.

“You’re not Felix.” You said out loud, hoping against hope that you were wrong. But the boy that stood before you cocked his head, an action that you were so used to seeing from your friend but right now, looked like a foreign action of pure impertinence. “What makes you think so, princess?” His smirk grew wider. You stood your ground, hackles rising at the almost insulting tone he was using. “Was it the clothes? Or maybe the fact that I’m making it obvious how much I enjoy touching you?”

Your teeth gritted as you let out a snarl of your own. “ Watch your mouth, Felix.”

To your surprise, Felix let out a laugh, sticking his tongue in his cheek- another familiar action that seemed disrespectful on this.. This impostor. “Are you scared of me, sweetheart?” He cooed, taking another step towards you. Your magic stuttered to life as adrenaline rushed through your body, an invisible protective forcefield molding itself around your body. “Oh, that’s adorable.” He laughed again, loud and derisive. “That forcefield doesn’t hold a candle to my kind of power, princess.”

“If you’re Felix, prove it.” You demanded, the fear sharpening your senses to cold awareness.  He rolled the cricks out of his neck, training his jarringly black eyes on you again. “We met at a lake a year ago this day. Or rather, you met my twin. He’s the one you’ve been meeting all this while, although I’m loath to admit it. I guarantee you, I’m much looser with my tongue than my damned twin is.”

“If Felix is your twin, what’s your name?” Your voice was cold, devoid of the fear that was rippling through your veins at the moment. “I’m Ellix. Pleased to make your acquaintance, princess,” he spit the endearment out like a curse, dropping into a mocking bow. When he rose, his lips quirked up in the same arrogant smirk, his hands running through his hair. “And who said anything about different bodies?”

//

A quiet knocking awoke you from your slumber the next night, prompting you to sit up and pull the bedcovers over your body. Were you hallucinating? You hadn’t slept at all the previous night, still reeling from the oddity that was Felix. You ordered him to leave the premises immediately after his strange declarations of having a twin… in the same body? He’d held his arms out, pouting for another hug, but you snarled at him until he left. 

Another knock brought you out of your reverie; you were definitely not imagining it. Pulling a robe around your body, you stepped out into the balcony, to be faced with an unfamiliar boy standing next to the railing, his hands twisting together nervously. He had jet-black hair that engulfed his forehead and high cheekbones that made his round eyes look bigger. Your heart dropped slightly; you were hoping it was Felix, here to explain himself. You needed explanations, and your midnight companion was the only one who could give them to you.

“Your Highness, Many apologies for the late hour.” the boy bowed, his voice high for a male, yet smooth- you shook yourself. You were comparing his voice to Felix’s infinitely deeper one. “Who might you be?” You questioned, your voice even.

“I.. well, I’m Han Jisung, your Highness. I’m from the Twilight Woods. You’re Felix’s companion?” The mention of  Felix’s name had you jolting to attention, but you kept your face schooled to polite indifference. “What is it to you?”

“I heard that he.. He wasn’t himself when he came to you the previous night. I felt it prudent to come to you with the information you must be seeking, because Felix won’t tell you himself.”

“On whose authority do you hold this information, Jisung?” you demanded- you were not going to be duped by dark magic. You magic probed him shamelessly for traces of dark magic, turning up with nothing but an airy silence. “On my own, your Highness,” Jisung smiled sadly. “I’m one of the people who know the truth. I’m His Highness Prince Felix’s elder brother, second in line to the Twilight Throne.”

//

“The Twilight Woods outside your kingdom has had its own royalty, ever since it’s inception. We preside over the woods and the surrounding lands and make sure our subjects don’t wreak too much havoc in your lands. Our folk are wilder, they live much longer than your subjects outside the woods and reside further into the woods than any of your folk would dare to wander. The lake you met my brother at is one of the entrances to our kingdom. For the past 200 years, our uncle has ruled the Twilight Woods. His 3 daughters were in line for the throne- but Mina abdicated and Chaeyoung ran away, leaving only… Sana.

“Everybody knew that she was courting the darkness, with her obscene interest in blood magic. When the King our uncle found her in the middle of a pentagram with her hands wreathed in shadows and her lips red as blood, he knew Sana was beyond help. He had her banished immediately, leaving only my little brother and I as choices for ascension to the throne.

“My brother is blessed with an almost endless bank of magic, but he was a creator first, a royal next. His dream was to become an alchemist, providing treatment and protection to the kingdom with his potions. The kingdom loved him, as did our uncle. He saw greatness in my little brother- in his golden heart, infinite power and unflinching moral compass so he chose Felix as his heir apparent.

“The kingdom rejoiced the new era of their to-be king. The coronation was to be the most special day of all our lives. But that Christmas Eve, days before the coronation… Sana broke through the kingdom’s defenses and ravaged her way to the castle. She trapped Felix in a wall of fire in the throne room, rendering any of us unable to help.

“Even his endless power was no match for the abomination she’d become. When she subdued Felix, she.. she placed a curse on him, condemning him to the life of a wordless bird- a swan by day and only reverting to himself by night. She… She gave him no ultimatum. Just that… that she’d give him 50 years to try and find a loophole, just for her sick amusement. If he failed, he would spend the rest of his existence as a swan, completely losing his humanity.

“What we didn’t anticipate was his magic taking a hit from the curse. The internal war his endless magic had with Sana’s curse had created a.. Well, a dark alter ego. We… We called him Ellix. One that was consumed by his base desires and lacked the grace that my brother normally held himself with. Between the curse and the possibility of meeting Ellix at sundown...there was no way he could possibly take the throne. We are not many months short of the 50 year mark, and the stress and fear he’s feeling just means that Ellix is awoken more often than not.

“Yesterday was one such day when Ellix came out to play, and I must apologize on his behalf. You have been a dear friend to Felix ever since you met him. It would shatter him to realize that his own alter ego had damaged a companionship he holds so close to his heart. Ellix is Felix’s darkest, most depraved impulses put into a persona. It is not the Felix you know, the way no mortal is defined by their darkness.

“When he does meet you again, I implore you to not push my little brother away. He is a lost boy, his power and sense of duty beyond that of beings wizened and old. He needs a friend that doesn’t see him for his curse but for the individual that he is. All I ask of you is to be that person for him, for these last few months of his life.”

//

You waited impatiently for the next full moon, barely focusing on your daily royal duties as you counted down the days. As the full moon night got closer, you steeled your nerves, prepared for the possibility of meeting Ellix- a persona that you were woefully unfamiliar with despite the familiar face he carried. This was just another facet of the Felix you knew. How was this any different from the different faces of a mortal’s personality? You would not be bowed by his drastic change in behavior, you decided.

You hurried your steps as you made your way to the mermaid fountain,  the delicate iron chains around your shoulders clicking softly against the midnight blue fabric of your dress. Rounding the edge of the hedge, your eyes instantly caught Felix’s- no, this was Ellix. His eyes were the same obsidian black as before, standing out starkly against his honey skin and the gold circlet that rested on his forehead. You took a deep breath, calming your nerves. His lips dragged up in a smirk akin to the ones he’d flashed at you the previous moon. “If you’re done taking in my appearance, darling, I must say you look absolutely ravishing yourself. ” You rolled your eyes, pursing your lips against the smile that bubbled to your lips unbidden. “If you’re going to behave like a creepy elder with me, Ellix, I guarantee you I will not be hugging you, or walking with you anytime soon.”

A surprised laugh spilled from Felix, his dark eyes lighting up with amusement. This was banter the two of you were used to, indulging in the easy back-and-forth for hours on end. “No hugging or walking for us then, darling.” The endearment spoken in Ellix’s voice struck a chord, sending a familiar shiver of wonder down your spine. “What do you think about talking?”

You grin back at him, taking his hand and leading him to the edge of the fountain. “That is most definitely my cup of tea.”

//

That full moon night cemented your companionship with Felix’s dark alter ego- who wasn’t as dark as he made himself out to be. Ellix was much more easy with his magic than Felix, using his powers to do even the smallest of things. He was also more confident, almost confrontational with his opinions and his sentiments- even if they weren’t in line with yours. You enjoyed the new dimension to your banter, although a small part of you missed the softness that came with Felix himself.

Despite his openness, however, you couldn’t bring yourself to ask about the curse, or the story Jisung had entrusted you with. It seemed too big of a topic to breach- one that Ellix or Felix would have to address by themselves. So you let the conversation flow in the way they wished it to- quick witted banter and almost flirtatious comments.

The next moon had you encountering Felix again, and you were quick to jump into his arms and he swung you around, the two of you laughing brightly as his eyes crinkled, the jewels under his eyes twinkling softly. He left behind a bracelet of rose-petals and a matching rose wreath. The moon after brought back Ellix, this time with his ornery smirk and a kiss on your cheek before he melted into thin air. 

The fluttering in your stomach every time he said something mildly flirtatious, brought out those presents, or let his touch linger for a second too long wasn’t lost to you. You’d felt floaty and obscenely happy with Felix ever since the first time you met him, the quiet nervousness melting into heady peace and teasing banter every time you met after that. When Jisung told you about the curse, the first thing you felt was a wave of concern that you knew instantly was far beyond the bounds of friendship. You wanted to find him and engulf him in your arms, hold him close and tell him he was brave, strong, more special than he allowed himself to believe. You wanted him to stay close by your side, not for one full moon night but for the rest of your lives so you could tell him every day how much he’d come to mean to you, no matter whether it was Ellix or Felix.

It was a soft, simple feeling that had taken root in your heart in the beginning of your companionship with him and had only grown larger since, pushing the limits of your heart in your affection for Felix. It wasn’t just friendship you felt for the lost boy in your garden- it was love. 

//

“You’re lying. Tell me you’re lying.” Your hands pressed against Ellix’s chest, pushing him away from you. Your magic sparked against your fists as you advanced, Ellix’s only reaction an evil grin. “Why would I be lying, darling?” He purred, his own fingers sparking with the beginnings of a flame. You skirted the edge of the mermaid fountain, your eyes trained on him. The anger and betrayal coursing through your system had you seeing red, but you kept your voice even. “How dare you stand before me and tell me that our companionship was a fraud?”

“Oh no no, darling, I didn’t say it was a fraud,” Ellix bit back, looking like a demon set loose from the Netherworld. “I said that this friendship was a game. You let slip so many royal secrets to me, all of which will go towards the siege that the Twilight army is planning upon your kingdom.”

A snarl of outrage ripped from your throat, sparking your eyes as you stepped closer to Felix, eyes ablaze with fury. “You traitor.”

“I’m the Crown prince of Twilight Woods, Princess,” He used the same mocking tone that drove you up the wall. “I’m a royal before your little companion. Did you really think I agreed to your acquaintanceship because I appreciated your COMPANY?” Ellix spit back, his entire body betraying his disgust.

You reeled back at his words, each one of them pricking your heart with a savage sharpness. “You don’t mean that.” you breathed out, but Ellix was on a roll.

“This entire companionship was built for your desires, with none of mine taken into consideration. You’re too absorbed in yourself, with your hair and your clothes and your little kingdom that you forgot that I was a part of this friendship too. You didn’t give a single damn about me, did you?”He shouted, close enough that the two of you were almost nose to nose. You stood your ground, not wanting to seem weak. Not to him. Never to him- “ You just wanted a sweet submissive little boy from the woods to listen to you, and let me make it clear to you, princess. I am NOT IT.”

A beat of silence passed between the both of you- and then you straightened up, looking down your nose at the boy in front of you. “This companionship is terminated as of this second. I owe you nothing, as don’t you. Does that please you?” Tell me it doesn’t please you, don’t do this to my heart, Felix, please-

“Absolutely, princess-” He pressed a kiss against your cheek, a mockery of an action you’d gotten used to from Ellix. But it only served to set you off, a scream ripping from your throat. “No. You don’t get the last word on this sham of a friendship, you dirty liar. I trusted you with my life and my dreams, and this is what I get in return? You should be ashamed of yourself, Ellix.” Your voice cracked from the rage, but Ellix didn’t bat an eyelash.

“Jisung was right. You’re a monster. Begone, Ellix. Take Felix with you and never return. If you do, I will make sure the guards find a dungeon for you with your names on it.”

All you could see was the glint of his black eyes disappearing into the darkness, likely for the last time- and the only emotion you could recognize from the maelstrom in your mind was that of a broken heart.

The walk to your chambers was a demonstration in self control, eyes silvery with tears cast low and your fists clenched to prevent the scream from leaving your throat. It wasn’t until you reached your chambers that you allowed yourself to fall apart, crumbling to the ground behind your door as you hid your face in your hands- and the soft rustle of paper with the movement of your skirts catching your attention. By some sleight of hand, Ellix had slipped a letter into your pocket.  While you had half a mind to feed it to the flames, the sad, sentimental side of you ripped open the thick paper, scanning the elegant scrawl dancing across the paper.

Greetings, princess.

I’m sorry I never told you the full truth.

Sana did leave one loophole. When she cursed me, she left me 50 years to find a mortal that would love and accept me for my cursed self, a mortal that would look me in the eye and admit to it. But when the complications began to happen with Ellix…There was no point hoping. I bided away 48 years, lost in self-pity and the darkness that the curse festered within me. Until I met you.

You were so beautiful in the moonlight, darling. Over time however, I came to know that it was your goodness that gave you that celestial glow- You were noble and selfless, strong yet soft, relentless in your pursuit for all the good you could bring to your loved ones.

I was smitten by you, but I couldn’t stand to taint you with the horrible scars I bring with me, darling. So I kept my secret and met you every full moon, only falling further and further with every meeting. The first time I held you in my arms, it was like a missing key had finally clicked into my locked heart and princess, I didn’t want to let go of you again. You gave me the sweetest memories in the final year of my life,  and for that, princess, I will be eternally grateful.

I am but a smidgen in the glorious story that will be yours one day, even though it pains me that I will never get to be a part of it- so don’t remember me, princess. Don’t worry about me. Don’t try to save me, because I am likely already beyond the point of saving. There’s no way out for me.

The fact shall remain, as it always will in this letter, even after I’ve passed into the darkness- I love you.

I love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence, and as justice loves to sit and watch everything wrong. Justice has done exactly that with me, darling. It has cursed me to live my last moments away from you, lost in my own mind, my magic fighting against the curse to keep the darkness from claiming me. It is my misfortune that I met you so late into my life, but my life’s greatest honour to have known one who shines as brightly as you.

Beyond Forever,

Felix.

You scrambled to your feet and broke into a run, your skirts whipping around your ankles as you let your memory guide you, eyes blurred by the tears that streaked down your face. Ellix was trying to protect you from the pain of losing him, he loved you, he loved you, he loved you- 

Slipping past the guards and into the stables, you were on a horse, riding bareback in the fastest speed you could coax from it, towards the Twilight Woods. You had time, you had to try, you couldn’t just let him die, not  like this-

Before you knew it, you had reached the lake where you’d met Felix for the first time, the memory of his quicksilver smile and his golden eyes- no, one pair of golden eyes and another pair of obsidian orbs flashing across your mind before another fit of tears claimed you. If you remembered right, Jisung had mentioned you’d brushed by an entrance to the Twilight woods somewhere close by this very place-

“FELIX!!” You screamed aloud, dropping to your knees at the shore. “I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, Please come back to me, I can’t bear the thought of losing you Felix, please-” You caught a view of your tear-streaked face in the reflection of the water, rippling softly, uncaring of your screaming.

The first rays of the morning sun began to hit the edges of the lake as you sobbed aloud, the despair setting in and burrowing deep into your chest as the moments ticked by. You scanned the horizon, desperately looking for a sign, any sign of the kingdom Jisung and Felix belonged to- and then you saw it. 

In the far shore, two figures stepped into the soft morning light- both small and slight in build, dressed in whites and golds. One had hair the colour of ebony, the other hair the colour of burnished gold. You straightened up, your eyes widening as you hurriedly brushed the tears off your face.. It couldn’t be..

Both of them stepped onto the water, walking- no, running across the surface of the lake without leaving a ripple in their wake. You got to your feet, backing away from the shore as Jisung and Felix stepped off the water, their smiles brighter than the sun itself. Felix stepped towards you, his arms held out wide and you let out a quiet sob, running right into his warm embrace.

“I love you, I love you so much, thank the stars-”

“You’re here, you’re real, I love you, I adore you, princess-” Your murmurs mingled together, muffled in each other’s bodies as you clung together, scared to move away. You pulled away, your arms still looked around Felix’s shoulders and his neck, only to be met with the brightest grin you’d ever seen lighting up his face. His eyes- one gold and one black, crinkled with happy tears as his lips stretched into an ethereal smile, his hair a dishevelled mess around his ears.  

Felix was the crown prince to a kingdom bathed in betrayal and grief, while you were the heiress of a kingdom that prospered from the nobility that ruled it. Felix’s cousin was likely on the way, pulling her hair out in the frustration of being ousted. You would likely face the music for screaming at a boy in the gardens and then disappearing for hours on end- but in each other’s arms, the two of you were nothing more than each other’s special little forevers.

In that moment, it was truly all that mattered. 

////

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Do let me know what you think! - Elliana.​​

[bella-caecilia]

For your color drabble prompt: Fluffy yellow and purple, please!

Hey, dear! Thank you for prompting me :) The purple prompt can be found here (x). And now finally, here comes the yellow colour drabble. I decided to make it pre-canon (hope you’re alright with this). The idea for this prompt came to me as I thought about the fact that it’s confirmed the first thing Robert does every morning is giving his wife a kiss. Hope you enjoy this young Cobert fluff!

Yellow – Happiness

1891

First, she thought sunlight kissed her awake. Tickling her nose, warming her cheeks. But then Cora remembered that the thick drapes in the Mercia bedroom and the deep winter months made an early greeting by the sun itself highly unlikely. And then there it was again. A warm sensation brushing her face.

She tried to turn in her sheets but something held her back. She groaned against the unwanted resistance in the early morning and made an attempt at pulling the sheets over her head instead.

“Hey…” sounded a soft-spoken hum.

It still confused Cora to wake up and not be alone in her bed. It was a sweet dream to finally come true. But it was so different from how life had been before, that in her especially sleepy state in the early hours of the day she always needed still some minutes to adjust to reality.

But now, she remembered Robert lying next to her in the sheets. Her heart skipped a beat at the realisation, and she was a whole deal less sleepy instantly. She ceased her fidgeting, abandoning the intention to return to the land of dreams, and tried to take in the sensations around and inside her in detail instead, her eyes still closed. That she was not yet ready for, looking into the eye of another freezing day of wintery hustle and bustle when all she wanted to do was to stay cuddled up in soft blankets.

She blamed her rapidly growing desire for comfort and warmth on her physical state. Mama and also her lady’s maid didn’t think it unusual for her to develop stronger desires and aversions here and there since the doctor had confirmed the glorious news of the growing offspring blossoming under her heart. The more so as Cora’s urges weren’t particularly unpleasant or concerning in any way. Mama said her ‘pregnancy laziness’ was maybe a little unpractical regarding the teaching for becoming a worthy successor and that it had a snobbish touch to it, but Mama meant she could deal with that and the elaborate lessons would be resumed even more resolute after the birth of the little joy. The thought made Cora a little restless because her lessons as they were called (it was actually just her days being spent closely with Mama who picked up every little opportunity to teach Cora a lesson about the proper aristocratic life), got dangerously close. The birth of her baby was a few more weeks away, two months at the most the doctor said, and Cora couldn’t imagine returning to daily life in Mama’s presence as exhausting and testing as it had been before her long-awaited pregnancy, probably even more so. She would have her lovely little baby, and she wouldn’t want to do anything but devote herself to her child. Hers and Robert’s. Oh, it gave her nearly more thrills to think about that than when she first found out she indeed was with child. Back then, everyone had been pleased and especially relieved to find her capable of bearing their family’s future. But the news hadn’t been connected to the mutual joy between her and her husband as Cora had dreamt of in her most daring dreams. They hadn’t been the loving couple overjoyed by the blessed proof of their love. Robert had been pleased and happy and had then been able to divert parts of his attention to other things. Cora had been filled with her new purpose and had been set to start this journey on her own merits. Her joy had been damped by the rapid decrease of Robert’s visits at night. But after a few weeks, she had pulled herself together and had tried to fulfil her role as a joyful expecting mother as best as she could. It wasn’t a role unsuited to her, and that made it easier to stick to her determined decision of making her success in her new role independent from the state of her marriage.

But something had changed during her pregnancy. Something inside of Robert, and Cora couldn’t pinpoint it to a specific event. But suddenly, he was there. With her. And now, he sought her company and welcomed it if she sought his. He came to her room more often and he even stayed the nights. And recently, he took up to sleeping in her bed just to be at her side. Cora considered that perhaps his own bed was just terribly uncomfortable, but the way he stroked her cheek before he turned to lay on his side to fall asleep told her otherwise. The explanation Cora didn’t dare to consider on her own came after some weeks. His love confession had been a little bit rambled and had been characterised by the red tip of his ears and the nervous wringing of his hands as she had confronted him one night with the question of what he did in her room again after they hadn’t even slept with each other just next to each other the last couple of nights. In retrospect, that had been a move too fiery for Cora’s own liking but the repeated kicking in her abdomen resulted in her portraying more of a quick tongue than was typical for her. And it turned out all just great. He loved her; he really did.

Cora couldn’t comprehend how they got closer with every day. She hadn’t imagined it possible. They loved each other, and Cora thought this was it. They were to love each other now, and things would be sweet, and romantic, and, golly, easier! But her marriage with Robert got more exciting with every day that passed and more familiar at the same time. Cora didn’t know how this worked but she couldn’t care less as long as she saw Robert’s adoring face every day.

Nearly every morning now, she was greeted by his softly-gazing face. He had taken up the habit of kissing her awake with a small peck on her cheek or forehead. And with a “good morning, my dear” he slipped carefully and quietly out of the bed to don his dressing gown and leave for his room next doors to ring for his valet. Cora was usually left in a sleepy and blissful haze.

“Hey… it’s just me,” Robert now whispered, and Cora felt his palm gently stroking the curls loosely adorning her temple. His hand followed the track of her probably wildly flowing mess of hair, only barely held together by an amber ribbon. “Please relax,” his voice was velvety soft. A tiny sigh escaped Cora’s lips.

Just as she thought how distinctively she sensed Robert’s warmth at her left, she felt the distant pressure of his other hand on the blankets covering her belly. She opened her eyes for the first time this day, and after blinking a few times, she took in her husband lounging next to her, slightly propped up on his elbow and following the tentative movements of his own hand on the protruding abdomen of hers, hidden and veiled by light covers. The whole room was set in a warm honey light. The marigold curtains in Cora’s room were suffused by the first rays of the morning sun, and it reminded her of the few walks with Robert at golden hour. She had always rested her hand a little more firmly in the crook of his arm and had imagined how they made the exact same walk but with Robert blissfully telling her about the beauty of nature and of his darling wife. Maybe, she contemplated, they could take a walk like this sometime. Maybe it wasn’t a dream so far away anymore.

But with Robert’s beatific serenity, this moment was perhaps even better than these walks at golden hour. It seemed he hadn’t yet noticed that she had finally opened her eyes, and maybe he had even forgotten that she was awake because his caresses on her belly became a bit more present while his gaze got dreamier.

“Good morning, Robert,” she said softly.

…

She looked at him with smiling eyes, her light blue eyes shining nearly golden in the morning light.

Robert didn’t understand how she made him happier with every day. It didn’t matter really what she did, but just being her sunny self lightened his mood considerably. And even though, she had already received her good morning kiss Robert had to lean forward once again.

His lips cupped the round of her cheek gently. It was the first time he realised fully what the expression apple cheeks meant. It wasn’t mainly about the red colour for him that characterised a young lady’s apple cheeks. It was about the full form highlighting the sweet cut of her cheekbones. Maybe it was also a lot about the colour he pondered but he didn’t care because Cora’s cheeks were apple cheeks nonetheless even if they had only a slightly rosy hue to them most of the time. Her cheeks felt so soft and tender against his lips. He hadn’t anticipated the pleasure of kissing someone’s cheeks before his marriage. But it was a great pleasure, and he decided to take his time for this today. Cora laid serenely beneath, and he once felt her fluttering eyelashes tickling his cheek. A strong urge to protect her struck him, and he held a securing hand around her shoulder.

After some time, he pulled back slowly and his eyes instinctively sought her happy smile again.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

“Oh, my lady’s maid,” Cora whispered, her wide eyes locking his eyes with a look of great intensity only Cora mastered. Robert remembered that Turner, Cora's lady's maid, was tasked by his mother with waking Cora at the right hour for the impending events of the day. Apparently, this started rather early today.

“What are we to do?” he whispered back unsurely. He wasn’t used to this. Usually, he got up and rang for his valet before Cora’s maid turned up. They seemed to have lost track of time today.

Cora shuffled back fully beneath the blankets. “Pretend to be asleep,” she breathed.

“What?” he mouthed silently as the doorknob moved with quiet noises.

“Trust me,” she responded. When Robert’s head hit the pillow and his eyes closed, he felt the rush of cold air indicating the maid’s entrance. The dull thumping of her heels on the carpet filled the bedroom. After a few steps, there was a sudden quiet except for an audible intake of breath. Robert knew it was the moment the maid had noticed him. He dearly hoped she didn’t saw the light colouring rising up his chest and neck in embarrassment. He really liked sleeping in his wife’s room but he didn’t think it would be the best to be found there in the mornings. It should at least appear he had a little bit of propriety. The servant made a beeline for the windows on the other side of the room swiftly. Apparently, she had decided to open the curtains and send the couple a silent message thereby. Then, there was movement next to Robert in the sheets.

“Turner?” his wife’s clear voice spoke softly after the first curtain was pulled aside. “Would you mind letting the drapes closed? Lord Downton and I still need some minutes to rest I think,” she whispered, her voice more groggily than seconds before.

The maid’s response was breathed in passing. Something between “Of course, milady,” and “Excuse me, milady,” and Robert tried to stay ‘asleep’ as best as possible all the while. The door closed silently behind Turner.

“Cora!” he hissed when the air was clear. “They will talk!” The look on Cora’s face was not a single bit concerned. How could she be so unbothered by things like this? “Mama won’t take resting in the mornings, in your room, as an acceptable occupation for the viscount and viscountess,” he clarified.

“Be that as it may,” she stated with calm resolution. “I think these little steps into uncustomary terrains are worth it, Robert.” His name rolled from her tongue so very American. That was probably why she didn’t bother with social standards. It was as Mama said so often. Her American way of thinking made it so very hard for her to adopt the English way of living. But Robert realised that it was actually just when it was the two of them that Cora really didn’t care for social standards. Otherwise, she was so very eager to do things right the way Mama proclaimed. She was willing to internalise aristocratic propriety so much she already was a lady.

“Worth it what for?” he inquired carefully, not quite knowing if this was the right way to go, but desperately needing for her to say it. He just wanted to stay by her side, enveloped by her warmth right now. Maybe her explanation would help him ignore propriety and Mama’s expectations for a moment.

“For us, it’s worth it, Robert. For us,” she said patiently as if it was the clearest thing there was, and with the gentle tone of a loving mother, explaining her child the same simple thing over and over again. She would be just perfect with their child. She was already perfect.

Robert responded to her brave conquest of a prolonged morning for the two of them with a firm and eager kiss on her lips.

[oohnoniall]

Stormy Weather [Tamlin x OC]

WARNING; mentions of the winter court killings, but otherwise pure fluff, slight spoilers for my lye and tam fic but fuck it this is cute

       The rain beat down on the roof of Rose Hall with a steady thud, thud, thud. It would have been calming had it not been for the cracks of lightning and the pearls of thunder that had been brought along. The noise was unlike anything that she had ever sat through in the Winter Court. It was like the world was coming down around her. There was absolutely nothing that she could do in order to stop it.

       It had been nearly two hundred years since that horrible day. When Amarantha had punished them by killing so many of their younglings. Lyriel could still hear the screams whenever she closed her eyes. She could smell the blood as it ran down the streets.

       The storms of the Spring Court always reminded her of that day. Her world had fallen apart that day. She had not been able to fix it. She had not been able to protect anyone. She hated herself for it every minute of every day.

       Lightning broke through the sky, showing the world in a shocking shade of bright yellow-blue light. Her spine stiffened.

       An arm wrapped tightly around her hips. It would have been crushing had he not released the pressure after a moment. Tamlin had always forgotten how strong he was. When Lyriel was scared, his base instincts took over. They always had. She had hated him for it when they had first met but now ... Now she had come to tolerate it.

       "S'okay," sleep made him slur. His voice was not the light pearls of laughter nor the gruff annoyance that she had grown accustomed to in the years of them being together. It was nicer. More real in a way that she could not explain. "I'm here."

       Lyriel allowed Tamlin to pull her closer to his chest, her head resting on his left shoulder. She focused on his heartbeat. Focused on the way his chest rose and fell with each breath that he took. She knew that this whole thing was silly. A trained assassin shouldn't have been afraid of storms. She had faced much worse.

       Hybern had been worse than a Spring Court storm. Yet she had faced their armies without a hint of fear in her eyes. She had stood beside Tamlin when the rest of the Courts had turned their backs on him. She had walked through hell and back. Yet it all seemed worthless when she was faced with a stupid storm.

       The wind rattled the shutters on their bedroom windows. The banging made it sound as though they were being torn from their very hinges. Lyriel found herself curling closer to Tamlin in that moment.

       "D'you remember when you first slipped into my bed?" Tamlin was more awake by that point. Lyriel's fear radiated through their bond. It nearly caused him to fall into an anxiety of his own.

       "You told me to leave," her voice was soft. She was trying to keep the fear out of it. She hated for him to hear it when her voice shook. Hated it when he saw her at her most vulnerable.

       "Yes, and you ignored me." Tamlin lightly kissed the top of her head, his thumb tracing comforting designs on the bare flesh of her hip. "You told me then that you felt safer when I was around."

       "I still regret saying it," she shivered slightly. She did not know if it was because there had been another peal of thunder or if it had to do with Tamlin's thumb.

       "I don't," he mused, keeping his attention on her instead of the world falling apart outside. "Two weeks at the Spring Court and you had already made such an impact. You actually thought that you would be able to slip into my bed without me saying anything."

       "I thought you'd force me out." She had never told him this. Never told him she had been terrified of the thought of him rejecting her. But she had been. She had always been terrified that he would pick Feyre over her.

       "I thought about it," Tamlin admitted, his gaze falling to her cheeks and the way her eyelashes fluttered against her cheekbones whenever she began to calm down.

       "Why didn't you?"

       "I knew you needed me. As much as I didn't want you to be there, I knew I didn't want you anywhere else."

       "That makes absolutely no sense," Lyriel laughed. The laugh that made Tamlin's heart race. The laugh that showed she was focusing more on him than the storm that raged outside.

       "No, I suppose it didn't," he gave her a slight smile. "Nothing I did made any sense back then."

       "So you make sense now?" One of her eyebrows rose.

       "Not at all. You're the sense maker in this damned Court," Tamlin moved to press a kiss to her forehead, smoothing out the wrinkle in her brow.

       "Now we know you're wrong," Lyriel murmured.

       Tamlin gave her an amused smile, one that had once been marred with scorn or annoyance. They had come far in the years they had known each other. Things still weren't perfect. They never would be. But perfect was overrated. They had both learned that the hard way. "I'm never wrong."

       "You're constantly wrong." A soft yawn escaped the woman's lips.

       Tamlin leaned down, pressing a kiss against the lips that so often teased him. "And you're constantly tired. I'm not having you pass out during tomorrow's meeting."

       Lyriel went to protest but another yawn cut her off. She looked rather annoyed that her own body had betrayed her by proving Tamlin's point.

       "I won't let anything happen to you, Lyriel. I promise. I'll find a way to change the weather if that would make this easier for you." He spoke softly, lulling her to a feeling of safety and peacefulness.

       "Just don't leave me." Lyriel's eyes had closed and she was falling into sleep before the words had fully registered in Tamlin's mind.

       "Never."

[fortheloveoffanfic]

The One That Stays

Keanu Reeves x reader (A/n- Maybe, just maybe, I was too lazy to actually write smut for this chapter, so have some fluff instead. Also, sorry if this chapter seemed rushed, the next one will be much better)

Chapter1   Chapter2   Chapter3  Chapter4  Chapter5  Chapter6  Chapter7  Chapter8  Chapter9

Chapter 10- Reconciliation 

“And I don’t know what I’m diving into, Just hanging by a moment here with you.” -Lifehouse, Hanging By A Moment.

Keanu sat, slouched into the sofa, warming beer discarded on the coffee table as the television played reruns of a nineties sitcom. He usually loved the show, it was one of his favorites, but that night he couldn't bring himself to enjoy it and all he wanted to do was drag himself up the stairs and flop face first into bed.

He wasn't tired per say, but Keanu had been in a soured mood since Y/n left on Saturday; anger draining his energy, morphing into hurt. He thought that things were going great between them, maybe a little quicker than either of them had anticipated, but still, he meant it when he said he loved Y/n. Even with his bruised pride and broken heart, he still loved her. He just wished Y/n felt the same.

Maybe he'd know if he picked up the phone when she called.

He couldn't do it though. Everytime it rang, the screen brightening up with her name, he had considered swiping the green icon, but in the end, he'd just toss the phone away. Keanu didn't know what Y/n could possibly have to say when she had already told him all that he needed too by choosing to battle storm-grade rainfall over staying in the house with him. As much as he loved and cared for Y/n, he couldn't be with something who wasn't willing to stick it out with him, not anymore.

With a heavy sigh, Keanu decided that he just wasn't in the mood to be entertained by the antics of a two decade old comedy and reached for the remote, switching off the television. Raising of the sofa, he grabbed the half filled bottle, walking towards the kitchen, only to dump out the rest on the sink before throwing the bottle into the recycling.

Keanu's hand was on the railing of the staircase when the doorbell sounded, and with a groan, he shuffled towards the front door, slapping the switch to turn on the porch lights on his way there.

Who even went to someone's house at past eleven pm?

Slowly, he went through the motions of undoing the locks, subsequently pulling the front door open. At the sight of her, Keanu's breath caught in his throat, though he hoped she hadn't heard it. Everything the he felt that day came back to him; the anguish of watching her evade him every time he tried to reason, of when she walked away, the anger that followed when he realized that she just wasn't going to let him in, even if he was willing to lay his heart down for her and then finally, the hollowness that carved it's way into his system as he retreated to the house, sitting in the kitchen with soaked clothes, head in his hands and a half finished meal spread out on the counter next to him.

"Hey," Y/n greeted, the word soft and pained. Keanu wanted to say something, he really did, but nothing came, so instead, he just licked his lips, turning his head away. "Can we talk?" She finally added.

Talk?

She wanted to talk?

Now? After he had asked, no, begged her to talk on Saturday. After he pleaded with her to stay, after she left without as much as a reason why.

Y/n wanted to talk?

Suddenly, and unexpectedly, the anger surged up inside of him, like a dark plume of smoke, billowing at the resurgence of a stubborn fire. How dare she? "I don't think we have anything to talk about," he scoffed, not meeting her gaze. Deep down, Keanu knew that if he looked at her, he'd be gone; he'd put aside his own feelings to tend to hers, and he didn't want that. He wanted his chance to be upset, his go at saying how he felt, it was only fair.

"Really?" Y/n chuckled humorlessly, "Cause you had a lot to say on Saturday."

"Yeah," he huffed, shaking his head, "But that was when I thought you cared about....whatever it is we had."

Had.

That stung.

Rolling her eyes, Y/n couldn't help but get annoyed, she was trying to fix thing and Keanu wasn't making it any easier, "Had?" She repeated incredulously, knitting her brows, "And for the record, I do care," and new edge etched her tone and they both knew that it wouldn’t be long before things escalated.

Shaking his head, Keanu folded his arms, "Really?" He scoffed, maliced amusement dripping off his words, "Because walking out when I begged you to stay, says otherwise. In fact, it screams it."

"Oh come on!" Y/n's voice raised and she mirrored his stance, "I told you I needed space. And I called you, and you never answered."

"You said you needed time," Keanu corrected, finally looking at Y/n directly, "And I was giving it to you. And you know what, I think I needed some too," he managed, "To get some clarity," he added.

"Clarity?" Y/n chuckled dryly.

"Yeah," he dragged his bottom lip between his teeth, "Yeah, and now its pretty damn clear that you didn't feel the same way I do. And if you do, you’re to selfish to admit it!" Keanu didn’t know why he was yelling; the whole thing hurt more than it angered him. Maybe it was because he wanted her to know, know exactly what she did to him when she walked away, leaving him drenched on the sidewalk, like the past month or so had meant nothing. “You think you could have fixed this with a phone call? Or some texts, fuck,” he hissed, “You couldn’t even say it there, so it doesn’t matter that you called or texted or left fifty fucking voicemails! None of it matters because you just don’t feel the same Y/n.”

“Well why the hell do you think I’m standing here Keanu?” Y/n yelled, breathing heavily, “You wanna hear it? I love you! And it doesn’t make sense to me because we barely know each other. Because I like facts and logic and falling in love with you this soon, doesn’t give me any of that,” her shoulders dropped and Y/n shook her head, hitting her thigh with her closed fist, “I was sacred, okay? It just doesn’t make sense,” she repeated, “But it’s all I can think about when I think you. I have no idea what I’m doing, because I’m terrible at relationships, and I hate thinking with my heart, but the one thing that I do know in my head, is that there is nothing that I could learn about you, that can happen between us, that will make me love you less.”

Keanu stood there for a moment, processing her words, and right when Y/n thought that he was going to tell her that it was too late, slam the door in her face, he leaned down, and in an instant, he was crashing his lips to hers, gathering Y/n in his arms. If it weren’t for his hands gripping her waist, she might have fallen back, and it took a couple seconds, but soon enough, Y/n was responding to the gesture, her arms winding around Keanu’s neck, their bodies pressed together. 

When they broke, Keanu was still hunched over so their foreheads could press together, the tips of their noses touching. The tension that had just swirled in the air was gone and in his arms, Y/n felt more relaxed and at ease than she had in the past two days. “Do you mean it?” He whispered, urgency and the need for reassurance prominent in the handful of words.

“I do,” Y/n nodded stiffly, not realizing that tears had welled up in both their eyes, “I just wish....” she trailed off, closing her eyes, worrying on her bottom lip as she thought on her next words, "Can we just have a do over? A 2.0 first 'I love you' moment? Please?"

Smiling softly, Keanu nodded, moving his hand to brush a stray lock of hair away from Y/n’s face, "Y/n," he began, "I love you.”

Blushing, Y/n didn't think she had ever been more ready to say it to anyone else. Maybe he was right, that night in her bedroom, maybe it just took one night, because standing there with him, Y/n felt the way she had on the first one that they had met; a sense of childlike giddiness, countering with a tranquility that none other had offered. Sliding her hands from around his neck, cupping his face, Y/n cocked a shy smile when she returned, "I love you too Keanu."

Keanu caught Y/n's lips in a soft kiss. Their lips moved slower than before and in sync."I'm sorry," she breathed when they broke, their lips barely an inch apart, "I didn't mean to hurt you like that, I'd never want to hurt you. "

"I'm sorry too," Keanu said, "I was so wrapped up in wanting you to say it back, that when you didn't, I just thought the worst."

"It's okay," Y/n kissed him again, "I've never been good at talking about my feelings," Y/n leaned further into Keanu's chest, on hand sliding to tangle in his hair, "But I can show you."

His hands slid down Y/n's body, urging her legs around his waist, walking backwards into the house when she was secured in his arms. Keanu shoved the door closed with his foot, taking Y/n further into the house, "I'd like that."

The next morning, Y/n awoke when her internal alarm went of at six am. The sun had barely risen and it took her a minute to remember where she was; at Keanu’s place. Slowly, Y/n turned in the embrace of Keanu’s strong arms, adjusting until they were face to face, their naked bodies still somewhat tangled. Some hair had fallen into his face, the strands over his mouth blowing gently in response to his even breaths. 

Gently, Y/n used to tips of her fingers to sweep most of it away, her hand lingering on his cheek even after the deed was done. Keanu looked so serene; his dark lashes barely fanning the top of his cheekbones and she could see the tiniest hints of age that had just started to peak through an exterior that typically suggested immortality; a wrinkle at his eye here, a spec of grey there. They were easy reminders that they were not just from completely worlds, but also from different generations. It was so rare for Y/n to think of what she’d be doing in her fifties and she knew that when Keanu was her age, he probably wasn’t thinking that in twenty years he’s have fallen in love with a woman so much his junior. Though, she was glad that they had long discussed it, by then, it was just one less thing that would complicate their budding relationship.

Y/n’s thumb barely ghosted the apple of Keanu’s cheek, and she smiled softly as she admired him, only wincing when his eyes fluttered open, “Were you....watching me sleep?” Keanu chuckled, his voice still thick with sleep.

Y/n scoffed, raring her head back a bit and squinting her head, “No, don’t flatter yourself Keanu.”

His lips split into a wide smile, “You totally were,” Keanu continued teasing, his hands sliding to the curve of her waist as Y/n’s cheeks went red.

“Was not,” she countered with a huff, rolling onto her back, “That would be weird, and I’m not weird.”

“It’s not,” Keanu chortled, snuggling closer, kissing the top of Y/n’s head, “It’s adorable, and so are you.”

At his words, Y/n blushed harder, shifting again to hide her face in his side, “Why do you have to do that?” She giggled.

“Do what?” Keanu sat up a bit, pulling Y/n up with him, her face still buried in his chest, “Tell you how cute you are? Or make you blush,” he laughed, tickling her side.

When Y/n finally got herself under control, she straightened up, still cuddled close to Keanu, “For your information; I’m hot, not adorable.”

Keanu scrunched his face in indecision, finally determining, “I think you can be both. You pull it off pretty well.”

Again, Y/n moved, that time to wiggle out of his arms and plop into Keanu’s lap, her hands loosely cupping his neck, cocking an amused eyebrow, “You have all the lines, don’t you, Mr. Reeves?”

“Well, you do a good job at inspiring them Ms. Y/l/n,” Keanu shot back, his arms going around her waist as she leaned down to kiss him, her lips melding with his, her head tilting to the side for a better angle. “I love you,” he managed against her already kiss-swollen lips.

Softly, Y/n giggled, one hand slipping to tangle with the ends of Keanu’s hair, “I love you too.” Already, it felt so natural to say it, like the words were second nature, meaning true and right every time they left her lips. She loved Keanu. 

At some point, Keanu had rolled Y/n onto her back, his hands pressed into the mattress as he hovered over her, admiring her body before he lowered his face into her neck. Y/n sighed contentedly, gently raking her nails up his back. Her back arched a bit and she turned her head to the side, offering Keanu better access, though, when her eyes fluttered open and she caught a glimpse of the time; Y/n was shoving Keanu off of her and sitting up, “Is that the time?”

“As far as I know,” Keanu cocked a half-grin, “What’s wrong?” He mumbled, already pulling Y/n back into his arms, resuming his ministrations.

Giggling as she pulled away, Y/n tried to resist him, knowing she’d be late if stayed in bed any longer. How did an hour passed that quickly? “I have to go to work,” Y/n frowned, swinging her legs out of bed.

“Call in sick,” Keanu quipped, following her around the room as she looked for her stuff, “They won’t know.”

“But I will,” Y/n countered, shimmying into her dress, turning so Keanu could reluctantly pull up the zipper, “And I have a lunch meeting with our collaborator and the board,” biting her lips as she turned against him, Y/n put her arms around Keanu’s neck, kissing him before she continued, “The sex is great baby, but it doesn’t pay my bills.”

And with that, Y/n pulled away, heading towards Keanu’s bathroom. “But I can,” Keanu teased lightly, following her in, “Here,” he got the mouthwash out of the cabinet when she couldn’t find it. Going next to her at the sink, he got out his toothbrush, watching her out of the corner of his eye as he brushed his teeth. Y/n didn’t have a toothbrush there, or any of her stuff, but for a moment, Keanu wondered what it could be like if she did. She’d wake up next to him, go to work from there and come back, home, where they’d be together. It was a nice thought and every time Keanu looked at Y/n, thought of her, he fell more and more in love; even if he had promised himself that he’d take things slow, he felt like he was ready for anything as long as she was here. But he knew that Y/n wasn’t ready yet, he’d wait though, for her.

When they left the bathroom, Keanu followed her down the stairs, finding her keys on the floor, handing over, “So?”

“So what?” Y/n giggled as she took them, stopping at the mirror in the hallway, give herself one last look.

“What do you think?” Keanu inquired tentatively, slipping his hands into the pockets of his lounge pants, “About me paying your bills.”

Scoffing a nervous laugh, Y/n trued to face him, “I think you’re funny,” though, after a minute, she added, her tone sobering, “Look,” Y/n began, taking a couple steps towards him, “I’m not there yet. And I know that my expenses are a drop in the bucket for you, but I don’t need you to take care of me.”

“We can take care of each other,” Keanu argued lightly, snaking his arms around her, “It’s not about money.....but if you ever needed-”

“I know,” even in heels, Y/n had to tip toe to reach Keanu’s lips, “And it’s not a money thing, or a pride thing. It’s a time thing, we’ll get there, I promise. Okay?”

Keanu nodded, kissing her again, “Okay,” he determined, letting her go and holding her hand as he walked Y/n to the door.

The journey to Y/n’s car at the curb felt far to short and when the vehicle unlocked with a automated chirp, Keanu pulled the door open for Y/n. “Come over for dinner tonight?”

Sinking into the leather upholstered driver’s seat, Y/n slipped the key into the ignition, “Are you cooking?” She knitted her brows, amused.

Keanu cringed, knowing that he never really trusted himself in the kitchen; his expertise in that area was more centered around what happened after the food was made. “If by cooking you mean ordering take-out and putting in nice plates, then yes.”

“Well, that’s totally the same thing,” Y/n chortled, buckling her seatbelt, not really wanting to leave, but knowing full and well that she had to. 

“Obviously,” Keanu chuckled, “You should go,” he leant into the car, kissing Y/n one last time, slowing pushing the door closed, “Drive safe.”

“I will,” she said, “I’ll see you later. Bye.”

“Bye,” Keanu smiled, closing the door. When he had returned to the sidewalk, Y/n put the car in drive and pulled off into the empty street, only speeding when she turned onto the main road.

With only an hour to spare, Y/n unlocked the front door of her apartment, intent on showering quickly, putting on the first outfit she saw and doing her make-up as quickly as she could. If it weren’t for her meeting, she might not have done it at all. 

Before she tossed her purse to the kitchen counter on her way to her bedroom, Y/n stopped, not even looking around as she rummaged trough it, in search of her phone. “Hey hey!” Julie startled her, making Y/n jump and the purse, along with it’s nearly unpacked contents, shuddering in her arms, some of it even falling to the floor.

“Why are you in here?” Y/n’s voice rose a couple octaves, her eyes were wide with shock and she a bit was surprised she hadn't screamed yet.

“I had to tell you something,” strolling towards the kitchen, Julie gave Y/n a once over, twice, “I see you and Keanu worked things out,” she smiled slyly.

Stammering, Y/n couldn’t remember mentioning her fight with Keanu to Julie, “I never-”

“Oh honey,” Julie giggled, “You never need to tell me; he wasn’t calling, or coming over, and you were moping. I knew it was gonna work out eventually, else you’d have told me.”

“I.....whatever,” Y/n shook her head, not willing to get into the specifics when she had so little time remaining, “What did you want to tell me?”

“Oh!” Julie’s face lit up, just remembering why she had let herself into Y/n’s apartment in the fist place, “I’m getting married!”

“I know,” Y/n huffed, grinning but very confused.

“In two weeks,” when Y/n finally dumped her stuff onto the counter, mouth agape and completely speechless. Julie’s smile faltered, but her enthusiasm didn’t waver, “We’re going to Vegas baby!”

Speechless, Y/n just stood there, blowing out an audible breath, knowing that the next two weeks were about to get extremely busy. 

**********

Tagging- @harrisongslimited​ @kindainlovewithkeanu​  @a-really-bi-girl​    @soarocks​  @baphometwolf666​  

[lvllns]

confectioners sugar (1/?)

welcome to the neighborhood | fenris x penelope hawke. modern au. 2.4k words.

additional notes: both hawke and fenris are demi, just throwing that out there right now. background relationships will be added to the tags as they become relevant. this is kind of a messy first chapter but it’s gotta start somewhere, yeah?

[read on ao3]

Meeting Fenris for the first time goes like this: Penelope isn’t paying attention to her surroundings and she opens a door right into his face.

It isn’t her fault, not entirely. Her phone is going off in her back pocket, a near constant stream of dings, and she is going to murder everyone when she sees them tomorrow night. The constant notifications paired with the fact that she’s juggling a ridiculous number of bags that are mostly filled with canned pumpkin means Penelope is only half paying attention when she kicks the door to her apartment complex open.

There’s a muffled oof and she squeaks. Looks up and finds herself face-to-face with an elf who is gingerly touching his nose.

“Oh fuck,” she says. “Sorry, are you alright?”

He blinks at her and his eyes are very green. Muted green. Green like pines in the winter, when everything is a little bit foggy and desaturated and soft.

“I, yes, I am alright,” he wiggles his nose, eyes crossing as he looks down before he clears his throat and meets her gaze. “Are you alright?”

She was not expecting that voice from him. It’s deep, a little rough around the edges, and it seems to rumble from his chest when he speaks.

Penelope’s phone dings again. “Fine, fine, I’m just planning on how to best murder my friends,” she grins wide and his eyes drop to her mouth. More likely her teeth. The canines a little too sharp to be human, not sharp enough to be elven. Her smile dims a little and she shakes her head.

“I hate to be the one to tell you this,” he takes a step back, holds the door so she can move by him and actually get into the building. “But the elevator is broken.”

“Of course it is,” she sets the bags down on the ground. Pinches the bridge of her nose and groans. “It was working when I left, damn it.”

He moves and she looks over. Watches as he kicks a leg up on the wall, folds his arms over his chest and cocks his head. He’s not much taller than she is, an inch or two maybe. Strands of chalk-white hair poke out from underneath a beanie, which sits above his ears. His skin is dark, freckles dust his cheeks like stars, and there are silvery lines on his chin that drip down his neck.

He rolls his shoulders. “What floor do you live on?”

“Six,” she groans, head tipping forward.

Hawke’s phone dings again.

He chuckles, a soft thing that hardly breaks the silence.

“Hand me a bag or two,” he reaches out a hand, palm down. There are bright lines along the back of it, twisting around tendons.

“I — What?”

He huffs a breath through his nose. “I will carry some of those ridiculous bags full of canned pumpkin, if you’d like the help.”

“Oh, I, are you sure?” He nods, one corner of his mouth lifts. “It’s just, I kind of kicked a door open into your face…”

He shrugs broad shoulders. “No harm done,” he pauses. Seems to consider something and his gaze cuts away from her to the wall at her back. “Ah, unless...I do not wish to make you uncomfortable.”

Penelope folds her fingers up. Clenches her hands into fists until her nails prick at her palms. “You don’t, it’s fine, I just,” now it’s her turn to shrug. “Don’t want to impose, I guess.”

One dark brow quirks. “I did offer.”

“That you did,” she laughs. “Alright,” picks up a couple bags and offers them to him. His fingers touch hers, just for a moment, barely long enough to register that he is exceptionally cold, and then the sensation is gone. A gust of breath on the wind. She smiles. “I’m Hawke, by the way.”

He hums and places himself half a step behind her as they head up the stairs. “An interesting name,” he smiles, a small thing, and Penelope finds herself matching it. “I am Fenris.”

“Well Fenris, it’s lovely to meet you even if it’s because I almost broke your nose.”

He snorts. “You do kick hard Hawke.”

Penelope laughs and winks at him. “When did you move in?”

“Three days ago.”

They pass two more flights bouncing between casual conversation and companionable silence. It’s easier, carrying only two bags full of ingredients, and neither of them falter. Her phone dings four times in rapid succession and she snorts. Fenris glances at her, eyes curious. Penelope remembers she has a free hand now and reaches back to slip her phone from the pocket of her jeans.

“Group chat, although the last dozen texts seem to all be from Isabela,” she mutters and clicks her phone onto silent before tucking it away again.

“I assume that has something to do with all the pumpkin you bought?”

“Peripherally, kind of,” Hawke shrugs. “It’s...my brother is a firefighter and he finally has time off, him and his,” she cuts herself off. Looks at Fenris and then turns her eyes forward. “Him and his partner,” she watches out of the corner of her eye but Fenris just nods. A little bit of tension slithers from between her shoulder blades. “Anyway, they both love my pumpkin pie bars and so I’m going to make them a few huge trays to bring them tomorrow,” he hums. “It all connects because my brother, Carver, said he was looking forward to tomorrow night and now I guess Isabela has taken it upon herself to blow up the group chat.”

“Does she do that frequently?”

“Yes,” Hawke groans and shakes her head.

“And you do not have it set to do not disturb because…?”

Penelope gasps in mock offense. Stops walking so she can place a hand over her heart. “Fenris, are you sassing me?”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “I would never.”

They stand there, looking at each other for another minute before Hawke breaks into giggles. Fenris chuckles, the sound warm and welcome in the otherwise frigid stairwell.

“Come on, we still have three flights of stairs left,” she says, her voice thick with mirth.

He sighs and looks up. “I would hate to have you kick a door open into my nose after you climb all these stairs.”

Penelope laughs again, louder this time, and decides that she rather likes Fenris.

—

They reach the sixth floor and Fenris holds the door open for her. The hallway is only slightly warmer than the stairwell and he is glad for the beanie on his head. This Maker forsaken Marcher state is a far cry from the warmth of Tevinter and he doubts he will ever grow accustomed to it. Hawke, however, is in jeans, boots, and a light sweater like she was born for this weather.

She is...something. Fenris thinks that striking is the best word. Her face is all high cheekbones and a sharp jaw and a nose that has a bump in the middle of the bridge like it can’t quite decide if it wants to be elven or not. Her eyes are large and grey, almost silver, but there’s something under them, hidden behind layers, and he knows enough about loss and guilt to recognize it. Freckles cover the entirety of exposed skin, neck included. The rest of her is hidden by clothes but he thinks there is a solid, easy strength cloaked under the layers if the impact of the door to his face is anything to go by.

They get a few steps down the hall when Hawke freezes.

Fenris narrowly avoids crashing into her back by catching himself with a hand on her shoulder. He removes it as soon as he stops stumbling forward. “Hawke?”

“How are you with dogs?” She asks, head tilting.

He scratches at his jaw and shrugs. “I do not mind them, though I am more of a cat person.”

She hums thoughtfully. “Me too,” a nod and then she is walking again. He follows. “I only ask because Theodore may still be here, I don’t know if Carver has picked him up yet.”

“Theodore is your brother’s dog?”

She flashes him a grin over her shoulder, those shining eyes of hers glittering. “Theodore is my brother’s purebred mabari,” Fenris cocks his head. “I watch him when Carver’s at the station and then he picks him up when he’s got days off. Sometimes Bethany will watch him if she’s out of school.”

They stop walking right outside her door and she sets her bags down to rummage around for her keys. The door clicks, unlocks, and there’s no noise. Everything remains silent until he chuckles.

“I assume the lack of noise and drool means Theodore is gone?”

“Yeah, we’d both be knocked down already otherwise.”

Fenris follows her into the small apartment and he is immediately overwhelmed with the smell of lavender and sugar.

There are bookshelves tucked away up against the walls and they’re overflowing with books and trinkets. Mostly crystals, from what Fenris can see, but a few glass birds catch his eye. Plants sit tidily along windowsills and on the coffee table and on an end table. Fenris realizes, rather suddenly, that it feels like a home. His own apartment is bare, both from not having unpacked entirely yet and just not having a lot to his name, but Hawke’s...it’s warm and inviting. His nerves settle a little, a soft sigh chases tension from his shoulders as he follows behind her.

Her kitchen is small, like his own, and when they lay out all the bags on the counter, there’s almost no space left. She pulls her hoodie off and throws it over the back of a chair. His eyes catch on her arms and the freckles that cover them almost completely. They’re strong arms, muscle under skin and fat, and they confirm the easy strength. Fenris wonders if she lifts or if it’s something else entirely. Archery or just genetics maybe.

“There are cookies in those jars,” she points and he jerks his eyes from her biceps to the counter. “Biggest one is chocolate chip because all my friends are godless heathens,” Fenris laughs. Hawke smiles wide enough to show her teeth. “Medium jar is, uh, double chocolate chunk. However, it may be empty since Carver was already here. Smallest jar is shortbread.”

Fenris heads straight for the littlest jar.

“Finally, someone with good fucking taste!” Hawke says as she begins removing cans of pumpkin from bags.

“You don’t care for chocolate?” He pops a cookie in his mouth, holds it between his teeth, and steps in to help.

“Dark chocolate is okay in moderation but that’s it,” she says. “Shortbread is the best, not as sweet.”

He nods and sets cans of pumpkin on the counter until all the bags are empty. He finds they settle into an easy enough rhythm, they bump on occasion but the contact does not dig thorns into his hands or spine. Something about Hawke settles whatever anxiety he had about offering to help her. There is a wariness in his bones that will most likely always stick with him, but it fades to a manageable level as he watches her move around her kitchen.

“Well,” she places her hands on her hips. Looks from the bowls to Fenris. “You’re welcome to stay but if I’m keeping you from anything…”

He shakes his head. “You are not, I had just arrived back when you kicked the door at me.”

Hawke groans and tips her head back to stare at the ceiling. “I’m never going to live that down.”

“You are not.”

“Maker’s balls,” she chuckles. “Right, if you’re gonna stay, hand me that measuring cup?”

Fenris obliges.

And promptly loses track of time.

Hawke puts on some classical music, something he can’t put a name to, and they talk. About simple things. He learns that she also has a sister, Bethany, who is Carver’s twin. That they’re from Ferelden and they’ve only been in Kirkwall for five years. She mentions a mother and an uncle and grandparents but no father. Fenris changes the subject when he hears her voice go a little bit distant.

He tells her that he is here for work. Which isn’t entirely a lie. It’s just that he can work from anywhere, Kirkwall just happens to be where he’s stopped for the time being. Somehow they end up on the subject of languages and when Hawke finds out he’s fluent in six, she goes bug eyed and makes him promise to teach her how to swear in at least four of them.

They start talking about books and authors and Genitivi’s works until there are three trays of pumpkin pie bars on the counter and Hawke is making yet another. Fenris can feel his energy flagging. This has been more socializing than he’s done in quite some time and, while the company is more than good, it’s beginning to chip away at him.

“This has been enjoyable, but I believe I will take my leave Hawke,” he says and he offers her a smile when she looks up at him from the dough she’s mixing.

“It was wonderful meeting you, even if it did take me kicking a door into your face,” she grins and he chuckles. “I — Fenris, if you aren’t busy tomorrow, drop by The Hanged Man. We’ll all be there around eight.”

He frowns, brows pulling together. “I would not want to impose on —“

She flicks flour at him, a spray of powder off her fingertips that makes him dance away. “You wouldn’t be. We’re all gathering to eat and play cards and probably listen to Varric whine about the next bit of the campaign, but look,” she turns to face him, gaze going serious. “It’s all friends and I’m inviting you because, well, I’d say we’re friends now.”

She makes it sound so simple and maybe it is but Fenris has only had two years to shake off a past that clings to him like spiderwebs between branches.

“You hardly know me,” is what he says instead of the acceptance of her offer that scrapes at the back of his tongue.

“That’s rather the point of inviting you to game night. To get to know you more,” her face falls a little. “I really don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you to do anything but, the invitation stands.”

If he had any doubts that she was not genuine in her desire to simply befriend him for the sake of friendship, they vanish as she speaks. So simple, so easy. No chilled creek of water under inches of frozen ice. No, nothing sinister or double edged at all.

“I will consider it,” he smiles, a little wider this time, and says his goodbyes and leaves Hawke’s apartment feeling lighter than he has in months.

[ryewi]

lost or found - jhs

➸ summary: on a supposedly calm walk around the park, a random stranger appears out of nowhere and accuses you of stealing his dog.

➸ genre: fluff and an attempt at humor, that’s quite literally it

➸ words: 3,3k

➸ warnings: language and jung hoseok

➸ pairing: jung hoseok x reader (and mild namjoon)

If someone were to ask was adopting a stray dog worth it, you’d probably answer no. Strays were those creatures you’d willingly give a piece of your chicken sandwich to, but the contact would usually end up on that. Never did it cross your mind that adopting one, although unplanned, would happen. Of course, life is unpredictable.

Benji, as you called him, was a very small creature. His fur was white with brown splotches, short and neatly groomed, while his ears resembled fluffy puffs. Although your knowledge about dog breeds wasn’t extremely wide, upon brief inspection on the first encounter, the dog reminded of a shih-tzu.  

On an extremely unfavorable night, the two of you somehow managed to meet. The weather was horrible, cold temperature paired up with loud thunder created a scary atmosphere as you paced fast, trying to forget the hurtful words of your boss. Benji’s quiet and helpless yelps echoed under the bench, earning your attention. He didn’t attack when you crouched, only backed further under the wood until he couldn’t anymore. Your hands wrapped around the soft and delicate body, lifting the creature up and hugging it close to your body.

Benji was noiseless and careful, choosing to stay by your side rather than explore the apartment. The smaller ate the leftovers of your lunch fast, intently listening to the apologies for not being served proper dog food – you weren’t really expecting guests that day. Truthfully, Benji didn’t understand and even if that was the case, he wouldn’t care. The steak was perfectly cooked, full of proteins that his small body needed. Only when you noticed Benji’s small stomach bloat up after his meal, were you content.

The puppy found purchase on a fluffy pillow that fell from the couch. His small head rested on your toes, sharp eyes tracking movements of the characters on the TV. It didn’t take long before quiet snores were heard from his behalf, the adorable creature slowly dropping on to his side.

Benji walked next to you, tiny paws having to make way too many steps to keep up with your long strides. Somehow, he managed, only sometimes falling behind to sniff an intriguing scent. You stopped and turned to take an aesthetic picture of him, crouching down to achieve the perfect angle, when someone came running into the shot. Their frame all but enveloped Benji’s frightened one, yelling ‘mickey’ over and over again.

Scared that the stranger was a madman, you pulled onto the leash, dragging Benji out of the situation. The dog ran back towards you, his tail curved inwards and ears pulled back. A look of frustration was evident on your face, waiting for the other to stand up so you could properly confront them.

When the stranger turned around, his bubbly aura from before was gone and replaced with an annoyed one. His gaze was vaguely threatening, but upon further (yet quick) inspection of his face, the male seemed to be a harmless person. Dark hair, that matched perfectly with the honey skin tone, fell over his forehead messily. His cheekbones were high, nose pointy and jawline sharp like a knife. The pair of eyes currently staring at you were dark in color, almost black.

“You stole my dog!” He yelled, the sound ringing inside of your head.

“Excuse me?” You managed to whisper out. Although taken aback by this man’s beauty, you still caught on to his words which were exceptionally confusing.

“Dog thief!” He whined, one hand coming up to point at you. The man managed to attract a lot of unwanted attention with his act, which made you feel uneasy. It took a quick moment for the brain to properly process his words, bewilderment only intensifying. You gave the other a puzzled look, hand unconsciously tightening around the plastic handle of the leash.

“This is my dog?” You replied in a questionable but confident manner. Benji indeed was your dog, and currently, this person looked like a lunatic to you. What a pity for such a pretty face. He began shuffling; hands reaching inside of his dark coat, frantically touching the soft fur and evidently looking for something. Although you probably shouldn’t have, you continued waiting for his next words, actions, curious what else the man had to say before his words lost their last bits of coherency.

“It’s my dog, Mickey!” The other argued, still hurriedly inspecting his pockets, fingers now tapping all over his butt. Then, as if remembering something, a faint “aha!” left his lips. Before the male could retrieve whatever it was that he found, you spoke up.

“His name is Benji, Sir” Pointing back at the dog and smiling, you watched as the color from his face completely disappeared. His lips parted slightly, offering a nearly imperceptible glimpse of white teeth. Then, the stranger’s eyes became even bigger, disbelief evident like one lonely cloud on clear sky.

“Benji?” He parroted, then proceeded to spell it out as if he hadn’t heard it right the first time. You nodded along, confirming the suspicions and awaiting his upcoming words. “You butchered my dog’s name!”

Cunt. Now that was infuriating. The male could insult everything else, but not your naming skills! Numerous years playing Sims deemed you an expert at giving names that weren’t generic and you were very proud of Benji. It almost sounded like a name someone from the royal family would have.

“This is a dog, not a fucking mouse, so Mickey isn’t any better, now will you leave me alone” You had enough and were about to walk away when the other stopped you. His hand grasped your shoulder. Sudden heat expanded from the place of contact, his warm touch on your cold shoulder offering an almost burning sensation.

“No! I’m not leaving without him! Have you not seen the flyers?!” His voice was different now, probably scared that you weren’t taking this seriously – which honestly, you weren’t. Who was nuts enough to believe words from a stranger, let alone someone who claims that you stole their dog?

Suddenly, a phone was shoved right into your face. The device was turned on, an unclear picture on its screen. When the image finally loaded, it showed a small dog happily resting on a blue pillow, a pretty red collar wrapped around its neck. The creature was similar, no, scratch that – it was identical to Benji.

While you were examining the shot, finding more similarities as time passed by, the other began calling out “Mickey” to gain attention of the dog. Mickey rang out in your head, sound quiet but still extremely uncomfortable.

The dog didn’t care, sniffing around and only sparing pitiful glances in your direction. The man looked let down but didn’t give up as he crouched and began rubbing his fingers together.

“Benji” You turned around and clapped, expecting the smaller to run quick, but did he? No. Benji didn’t even look back. This annoyed you slightly, partly because the dog intentionally wasn’t cooperating (as if he knew what’s happening), partly because of the sly smirk the man gave you. Truly he had proof, a very strong one at that, but so did you. The smaller was on a leash, that you held. This was your dog, not his. Pulling on the leash, you called Benji once again, but to no avail. He gave no fucks. For neither of you.

“Is there a way to convince you?” The man asked, suddenly extending his arm in your direction and licking his lips before talking “My name is Hoseok, by the way”. His eyes were hopeful, and while they tried to stay trained on your face, they couldn’t be stopped from straying behind. That was his small munchkin on someone else’s leash, and although Hoseok was happy that the puppy was alive and in what seemed decent hands, he couldn’t help wanting Mickey back. Taking the stretched hand for a firm handshake, you replied with your name before continuing.

“Well Hoseok, I’m glad to have met you, but Benji’s staying with me” You answered, finally deciding to continue the walk to the puppy park. Unsurprisingly, Hoseok followed you, strides big enough to rather comfortably trail beside. How annoying. “In the end, he obviously likes me more”.

At that, Hoseok stopped dead in tracks. He seemed to give you this ridiculed face, as if not trusting what you have just said. A stray smile played on his lips, except it looked bashful. Hoseok seemed to be thinking that you were joking.  It took a few moments to form a coherent sentence after such a blow.

“I take that as a challenge to prove you otherwise” Hoseok said with such confidence that it sounded borderline intimidating. Then, he raised an arm up and with a determined look, proclaimed: “To the doggy park!”

“That’s an unusual way to ask a stranger on a date” You joked, taking the perfect chance to finally bring some humor into this, to you, pointless conversation.

“Don’t flatter yourself, I only want my dog back” Hoseok replied, waving his hand in a dismissing manner. Ouch.

Needless to say, neither of the two gave up. While Hoseok was trying to persuade you into giving up, you held close onto the little creature as if your life depended on it. The dog was watching the other as intently as you were, not putting any effort into making things easier for the man. You’d catch yourself pitying Hoseok, but upon remembering his true intentions, the emotions disappeared.

The past hour that you’ve spent in the little space protected by tall gates, Hoseok was the only one talking. His mouth never closed, for he rambled on as if there was no tomorrow. He’d show pictures of ‘Mickey’ and claim for the hundredth time that that was the dog currently in your arms. Hoseok even had the audacity to lift one of Benji’s paws up and show the small black dot on his pads, declaring that his dog had the same mark.

Right now, the man was rummaging through his obnoxiously red bag, pulling out all sorts of dog necessities and laying them before your knees. God only knew why the other carried so many dog accessories when he didn’t even have a dog to use them on. Your attention wandered around, falling on the man but not remaining on his words, rather his beautiful appearance. Hoseok’s dark locks created a curtain over his tilted face, but because of your hunched posture, it was still possible to see his breathtaking features.

Although the other looked troubled and his eyes were focused on the inside of his bag, they still appeared optimistic. There was an unfamiliar but warm glint inside of them. His lips were a thin line, two deep dimples at their corners. Hoseok’s pointy nose made you want to run a finger down its bridge, just to make sure that such a perfect curve was real. His honey skin glowed on the noon’s sunlight, making him look that much more attractive.

“This is his collar! And his favorite toy! Look!” The male yelled, throwing something that looked like a carrot plushie. Benji leaped out and ran after the toy, snapping you out of the daze you were previously in. Fortunately, Hoseok paid attention to the little fluff that ran around and not you, whose cheeks were the brightest shade of red. When Benji came back, carrying the carrot in his small jaws, Hoseok took it away and turned to you.

“He even knows tricks! High-five!” Surely enough, Benji lifted up on his hind legs and answered Hoseok’s high five, to which the bigger squealed and clapped like a child. He reached behind and took out tiny dog treats in numerous shapes, which your dog happily munched on. Feeling threatened, you picked Benji up and reached inside of his mouth to take the treats out. The smaller began chewing faster with panicked eyes, as if it was his last meal, making you sigh.

“Stop bribing my dog with toys and treats!” You yelled, then pouted and turned around to sit in another direction. Benji looked over your shoulder towards Hoseok, who chuckled and then sighed in disbelief. Noticing the little’s field of vision, you turned his head away, not willing to lose the fight just yet.

“I’m not bribing! That’s my dog! How much more proof do you need, woman?!” Hoseok’s words rang out. You chose to ignore their effect, for it was gradually becoming obvious that the man wasn’t joking. Seriously, who on this dying planet would spend two hours with a stranger just to steal their dog? Surely, if you were a pet thief, you would’ve given up already.

“Who would leave their dog alone in the rain?!” You argued back, declining to look at the other, scared that your thoughts would wander far away again. Hoseok groaned and although you couldn’t see him, it was possible to feel his eye roll.

“Not my fault! My roommate was walking him that day and-” Suddenly, the man was cut short, which made you turn around to inspect the situation. There, behind Hoseok, stood a tall man, with extremely long legs and broad shoulders. He wore jeans that weren’t long enough to cover his ankles and a brown coat that reached his knees. There was a pair of round glasses resting on his nose, and a brown beret that fulfilled the whole thoughtful aesthetic.

“Speak of the devil...”

“Mickey?! You found him?!” The stranger asked, his words overpowering Hoseok’s. His voice was deep and it cracked here and there from the surprise. The tall man walked past the other to pet Benji, acknowledging your presence with a quick nod and shy smile. The dog began wagging his tail and jumping in your arms, evidently happy.  

“That’s the twat that lost my dog” Hoseok mumbled, eliciting a heartfelt laugh from you for the first time. Your smile was so big that Hoseok’s heart jumped a beat at the sight; you looked so heavenly at that moment. His words somehow managed to lower the tension that unconsciously built up. Although Benji enjoyed the affection he was showed, you felt somewhat uneasy.

“Come on...” The stranger whined, eyes rolling at Hoseok who only sent a glare in return. “We found him now! Can’t you cut me some slack?”

“Namjoon” Hoseok warned, voice strong and authoritative. Namjoon stiffened and that, the tone enough to put him in place. He stood up and looked at you from above, casting a tall shadow and making you look up. The man looked quite intimidating from such an angle, but the moment his hand extended and you caught a glimpse of his dimples, the worry washed away. Helping you stand up, Namjoon smiled, finally deciding to introduce himself.

“That’s me. And you are?” His voice was soothing and you swore that if he were to read the cereal ingredients, it would still sound like the best novel. Hoseok frowned, listening to Namjoon who repeated your name a few times to remember upon hearing it. He approached his roommate and nudged him away, unsatisfied with the atmosphere that was building between you two. Namjoon, unfortunately, hadn’t gotten the hint, continuing the conversation.

“Well, thank you for helping us find Mickey. We’ve been searching for him for so long, I almost became hopeless” He smiled, and at that moment, you recognized the truth. This man sounded so sincere and you shrugged, a small pout playing on your lips upon accepting defeat. Your heart hurt but the mind was somewhat content.

“You’re welcome” The reply came out weaker than you intended it to be, your head hanging lower before glancing at Hoseok. His eyes were wide open in disbelief, lips forming an open O shape. Taking a step forward and putting a tentative hand on your shoulder, Hoseok hunched over and looked you in the eye.

“You’re going to let us have him?” The male asked, appearing more shocked after he voiced out his thoughts. Truthfully, Hoseok couldn’t believe it either, somehow you were giving in pretty fast.

Nodding your head and dropping down to crouch and pet Benji for what might be the last time, you sniffled. The pup put his paws on top of your knees and wagged his tail, eyes shining with your own reflection in them. He looked so happy, obviously unaware of what’s going on and probably thinking about when the next meal’s going to be. At least he’ll continue living his cheerful life. The two men watched over as you bid the emotional farewell, heads tilted to the side and pitiful smiles playing on their faces.  

After a while, you stood up and dejectedly handed the leash over to Hoseok, who had the most dumbfounded expression on his face. Namjoon was the first to thank and reassure you that the dog’s going back to his happy home, where he will be taken good care of. Then, as if timed, an annoying ringtone echoed through the small space. Namjoon was quick to excuse himself, for he had to answer the call. Hoseok stopped his roommate for a quick second, telling him to wait at the car before the other nodded and walked away.

The first remained standing beside you, shuffling nervously. He seemed to be confused about his future actions; yet before the mind was able to abort mission, the male was already reaching out for his phone.

“Let me have your number really quick... so you can y’know... come visit him” Hoseok’s voice was small and the tip of his ears turned red. The male couldn’t look you in the eyes, handing out his device then opting to watch Benji, who chewed on his laces. At that moment, Hoseok looked adorable, for his demeanor was completely different than what you were used to. The confident and assertive persona was nowhere to be seen, a shy boy suddenly replacing its position before you.

Typing the series numbers in the dial and calling fast, the screen of your own phone lit up, an unknown number flashing across the display. Saving your number as a new contact in Hoseok’s phone, you looked up, eyebrow raised in a teasing manner. It was now your turn to play nonchalant and bold.  

“... Visit him or visit you perhaps?” There was a sly smile on your lips, but a matching pink tint on your cheeks. Hoseok finally looked up to meet eyes, a surprised expression painting his beautiful features. Somehow, the irises of the other expanded and even on such distance, it was possible to read his emotions through them.

“Well I didn’t say that, but now that you’ve suggested...” He tried playing it cocky, head turning to look in another direction, tongue prodding at his cheek. Hoseok’s hands were placed behind his back, and only when you nudged the device for god knows which time, did the man take it back. Snorting at the reply, you rolled your eyes and shook your head.

“Turn around, Hoseok, or I may just change my mind and steal that dog from you again” At that, the other laughed and bid his goodbye with a wide smile. You watched Hoseok run towards the exit of the enclosure, followed by his loyal companion. There, he picked the dog up with one hand, heading towards Namjoon who stood beside his car just a few meters away. With his free hand, Hoseok typed something on his phone, only to make yours buzz continuously once he put it in his pocket.

Unknown – 4 seconds ago

I’m free tomorrow 5pm

You can come visit Mickey then, I mean

:)

A/N: This sat in my drafts for so long and I’ve been somewhat unsatisfied with my works lately to write anything new so, ig i’ll just publish this. School started and honestly idk how to feel but i know there will be way less time for writing now.

[eirian-houpe]

Disparate Pathways Chapter 3

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold

Characters: Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Belle (Once Upon a Time), Maurice | Moe French, Gaston (Once Upon a Time), Spinster(s) (Once Upon a Time: Think Lovely Thoughts), Mad Hatter | Jefferson, Blue Fairy | Mother Superior, Black Fairy (Once Upon a Time), Baelfire | Neal Cassidy, Emma Swan, Prince Charming | David Nolan, Colette (Once Upon a Time), Red Riding Hood | Ruby, Widow Lucas | Granny, Dove (Once Upon a Time), Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Wicked Witch of the West | Zelena

Additional Tags: Abusive Parents, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Violence, Gun Violence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Torture, Dubious Consent, Eventual Smut, UST, First Time, Drama & Romance, Kidnapping, Extortion

Summary: Gold has a past, a past that he has rejected, but it seems one that will not let him go.  Belle, daughter of Governor Maurice French has been kidnapped, along with her mother, and just as the authorities raid the organization that is holding her hostage, decides to make her own bid for freedom, unknowingly derailing an undercover sting, and Agent Milnor has not choice but to take her into 'protective custody,' but is he all that he seems?  As the threads of the story grow more tangled and the threat to Belle, and to Gold, her appointed protector, grow ever more real, a growing, mutual attraction makes everything far more desperate and far too personal for Gold to ignore what he knows to be the truth.

Read on AO3

[Chapter 1]  [Chapter 2]

Chapter 3 - Sins Of the Father

Everything hurt. Belle had no idea how long she’d been locked in the room she was in, and fear gripped her with piercing talons that she couldn’t ever remember feeling, at least not since she was a little girl. That didn’t count. It was different then. She was a child.

Now, she was an adult, and she would not give in to the fear no matter how hard it bit, couldn’t give in… if she did… if…

Belle sat down on the only piece of furniture in the room - a wooden slatted bed, with a mattress that was barely thick enough even to be called a mattress, with a grubby pillow and a threadbare blanket thrown over it - and gave in to the tears that were making her chest hurt to hold them inside.

She forced herself to stop abruptly, rekindling the nausea in her belly, when she heard the metallic rasp of the key in the lock.  In spite of her wanting to be strong, she scooted back into the corner of the wall against which stood the bed, and curled into a protective little ball.

To no avail.

The man that entered the room wasn’t one she remembered seeing before.  Not that she’d seen many people since they’d marched her off the steps of city hall and into the waiting car…

“I really don’t think that’s what he meant at all,” laughed Coleltte, slipping her arm though Belle’s and Belle leaned briefly against her mother.

“I know,” she said and let out a laugh of her own, “but it was still funny.”

The two women had laughed together as they descended two or three of the steps, but the laughter petered out as two large men in ill fitting suits - although that observation was one of hindsight - came to either side of them, taking a hold of their arms in grasps that were a little too tight to be protective, as they sometimes had to suffer.

“Keep walking,” one of the men hissed. “Let’s not draw any attention to ourselves.”

Collette frowned at Belle, and tightened her arm against hers, and Belle bit her lip, her eyes telling her mother that she didn’t believe that this was quite right.

“I wasn’t aware of any current threat to--”

“Keep moving!” the other man said, and Belle gasped as she suddenly felt the press of something hard against the side of her ribs.  She felt her steps falter, and her fear mounted.

Just like that.  It had been that easy for the two of them to be taken, and no one the wiser.  They’d been frogmarched to a waiting car and bundled into the back, still sandwiched between the two men; brought to this place, and had been here ever since.

At first she and her mother had been together, but then, a few days ago, Belle had been dragged away from her mother, and thrown into a room of her own.  That was when she felt the fear beginning to sharpen, to mount, but as much as she feared, she also felt anger, and along with it, a certain degree of defiance.

It had earned her nothing but rough treatment from the people that came to her, to check on her, to bring her the food that passed as her meals, and to take her for her scheduled ‘bathroom breaks.’   The longer it went on, the more fearful it was making her.

The newcomer crossed the room with rapid steps and she shrank against the wall.  It seemed he didn’t care, because he grabbed her by the arm and hauled her upright, barely giving her a chance to get her feet under her, and she stumbled, scraping her knee against the floor before he hauled her upright again.

“Enough of your nonsense,” he said. “It’ll be much easier if you don’t fight.”

She pulled against him at that, as if his words triggered her to do the exact opposite. For her troubles he suddenly swung her until her back hit the wall beside the closed door and stepping in close, he wrapped a large fist around her throat to pin her in place.  She clawed at his hand, fighting for breath.

“I told you,” he said unkindly, and leaned down to look into her face as he snarled, “No more nonsense.  If I had my way, I wouldn’t have waited this long, but I did, and now my patience is thin indeed.”

Belle’s struggles began to fade as she started to feel light headed from lack of air. Patience… she shook as she wondered  why he needed to be patient, what did he have to do with her, or she to him.  She assumed he was merely another one of her captors.

Just as the edges of her vision began to darken he released her, as though he knew exactly what she was feeling.  He caught her in his arms only to turn her and drag her out, drag her away and through the door. Her legs felt like jello, the rest of her limp and she felt tears prickling behind her eyes, but was determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing them fall.

“Where are you taking me?” she managed to ask, and he chuckled.  It was not a pleasant sound, but otherwise, he did not answer her, just manhandled her up a flight of stairs to the uppermost floor of the house, and into a sitting room where, in addition to the regular furniture, a desk with a large computer monitor stood ready, showing an office, and an empty chair at a desk.  

Her attention, however, was immediately drawn to one of the other figures in the room. Her mother.  She looked as beaten and downtrodden as Belle felt, and she immediately began struggling against the hold of her captors, just as did Belle, each trying to reach each other.

“How touching!”

From the far side of the sitting room, beside the window, came a voice that made Belle shiver.  It was a voice she’d heard before, a long time ago, when she was only a child, and hearing it in the present threw her right back to the terrified girl she had been that night.

“You!” she gasped, and her voice shook.  “You… you can’t be here. You can’t…”

“Oh, but I am.” The red haired woman began to walk toward her, then nodded to the man holding her, and to the chair. “I’m flattered that you remember. Perhaps that will make this so much easier.”  There was a pause as the woman crossed the room. She sighed then, and as she tapped a number of keys on the laptop, she added, “Such a pity. I do so prefer difficult.”

Belle was about to answer, trying to come up with something suitably snarky, but the breath was knocked out of her as the man still holding her pushed her into the chair facing the computer, and when she tried to rise in defiance, thrust her back down into it again, and this time kept his hand on her shoulder to keep her in place.

The flash of movement on the computer screen pulled her attention from the bull of a man that was still pinning her in place and she finally stopped struggling with him as a woman addressed them all.

“Everyone’s here.  Excellent, that should save time.”

“Mother Duneach.” The redhead greeted the woman that was settling herself into her seat at the other end of the live feed.

Belle’s already chilled blood ran colder yet, as she recognized the woman from her childhood transgression of peering through cracks in the door, and she did not appear to have changed, in spite of the intervening years.  The woman’s hair still swung around her shoulders, as dark as ever, as were her eyes. The wide smile that didn’t fit her face was still framed by full red lips, and her cheekbones were sharp and pronounced, painting her as shrewd as ever she had seemed to Belle, even at a tender age, and she remembered the words the woman had spoken, "There’d be a price of course. Something like this can’t be arranged without there being… a sacrifice.”

Belle shivered.  Was this the price? Was she the sacrifice?

As if the other woman knew what she was thinking, she turned her attention immediately to Belle, ignoring the greeting that the redhead had offered.

“Hello, dearie,” she said. “Well, look at you… all grown up…”

[spartanguard]

CS JJ, day 14: Another Cliched Mountain Lodge Romance Novel

Emma Swan, avid reader of romance novels, appreciates them for their vapid characters and incredibly unrealistic settings. She never imagined that she'd ever stumble into one—or that the man she'd find living alone in a mountain lodge would be the male lead in her own story. (Or how quickly it would escalate—and how okay with that she was.)  (Inspired by this post, and thanks to @optomisticgirl for the beta!)

4.6k | AO3 | Rated M for Mountain Lodge Lovin’ | for @csjanuaryjoy

Though she was an avid reader, Emma wasn’t one for the literary classics. Those were far too stuffy and time-consuming for her and her life. But romance novels—the kind in the checkout line at the supermarket, covered with pictures of over-muscled hunks draped with busty maidens—those were her guilty pleasure, and she hated that she loved them.

Maybe it was the vapid characters that she never got attached to, or the fantastical love scenes that were physically impossible but still arousing, but there was just something so wonderfully fake and cheesy about them that made it the perfect escape from her simple, solitary life.

And she’d read more than enough of them to know that, like it or not, she’d somehow wandered right into one.

It was her own damn fault for getting lost in the woods, she supposed, but it had been a perfect, crisp fall day and the leaves were the most brilliant red-gold against the blue autumn sky.

Until it grew later, with the color of the sky increasingly matching the color of the leaves, and one wrong step had her twisting her ankle on a knobby root, and she was way too far off the trail to even begin finding it while limping.

The sound of chopping wood made her jump at first, but it wasn’t far away and she was willing to risk whatever lumberjack forest person she would find if it meant not having to spend a night in the elements. She knew how to handle herself, after all, and she just needed a ride to her car.

But when she hobbled to the edge of the clearing, she wasn’t at all prepared for the idyllic sight in front of her—not in reality, at least. There was a picturesque log cabin, a trail of smoke coming out of the chimney and light coming from clear windows giving it a homey character. An older but well-maintained pickup truck sat in the driveway. And next to the house, chopping wood, was who she assumed to be its owner.

He was a lumberjack alright, dressed in a plaid flannel, well-worn jeans, and work boots, but where she was expecting Paul Bunyan or the Brawny man, she got the cover of one of her boudoir fantasies.

Tousled, short-cropped, dark hair framed a face that could only be described as ridiculously pretty: large blue eyes, high cheekbones, full lips, and a sharp jaw covered in gingery scruff looked completely out of place in this setting.

The strain of his back muscles against that blue plaid when he hefted an axe said otherwise, though, and the flex of his bicep was visible even from where she was, yards away. The fit of those jeans only highlighted his assets, and when he stood to take a breather, resting his axe on his shoulder, she got a view of the dark hair dusting his chest via the fair amount of undone buttons on his top.

She’d hit her head when she fell, surely. This had to be a hallucination, because all this scene was missing was the scent of a Mountain Lodge candle.

“Can I help you, lass?”

Oh good lord, he even had a British accent, with a tiny lilt of something else. Now she knew she was fantasizing.

“Lass?”

Oh right, he was talking to her, and now taking cautious steps toward her. She shook her head to bring herself back to the real world, and gingerly shuffled forward.

“Hi! Sorry to barge in on you like this, but I got lost and couldn’t get back to my car, so I was wondering if you could give me—”

“Are you hurt?” he cut her off, concern coloring his tone and furrowing his brow. He tossed the axe to the side and took longer strides to her.

“Oh, it’s nothing, just twisted my ankle, I’ll be fi...” She trailed off when he reached her, kneeling to inspect the damage—which was pretty evident by the way she wasn’t putting weight on it, but she knew she’d be fine once she got back to her car and home with her ice packs and wine.

He rose back up to his full height, a hand or so taller than her, and met her gaze. She was surprised to see a gentle look in his eyes—which were even bluer up close, a bit grayish even—and an expression on his face she could only assume was care; she’d only seen it a few times in her life, so it was almost jarring to see it on someone she’d just met. “Nonsense. I know this is a bit forward, but if you’ll allow me, I can tend to that for you.”

She wasn’t good at letting people get close, physically or otherwise. But she’d never encountered someone who wanted to help her so badly; despite his chivalrous, polite tone, she could see a genuine desire etched in his features. And the longer she waited to reply, she saw something else slip in, something she knew all too well: the fear of rejection and acceptance of solitude.

How many times had she seen that exact hurt countenance in the mirror? And suddenly, she realized that she may not even know his name, but she knew him, and suspected they had an awful lot in common.

“Okay,” she quietly replied, and the trepidation on his features melted into an affectionate smile that cut dimples into his scruff.

Then he went into action, moving to stand next to her, wrapping a strong arm under hers, and pulling her into his side. She hesitated a moment, suddenly feeling awkward, but an encouraging smile from him was all it took to wrap her arm around his back and shift her weight into him. He was warm and solid, but there was a softness that seemed to permeate from his soul.

“I’m Killian, by the way,” he finally introduced as they slowly set off. God, even his name was enticing.

“I’m Emma.”

She was still sure she was going to wake up from a really good dream as they moved closer to the cabin. They hadn’t gone far before he concluded it’d just be easier to carry her, despite her protestations (“I’ve carried felled trees heavier than you, love,” he threw back as he lifted her into his arms). Once inside, he gently placed her on a well-loved but plush sofa, propping her injured ankle on the ottoman, and then everything became kind of hazy as he removed her boots and tended to her with all the care and precision of a nurse. It was then she noticed the prosthetic in place of his left hand, but it didn’t appear to hold him back so she didn’t pay it much mind.

And then, with a warm, firm squeeze on her bandage-wrapped ankle, it was all done, and he was gazing up at her with a friendly grin that she couldn’t help but return. It faded, though, and she was surprised at how quickly she missed it and wanted to put it back.

“I’m sure you have somewhere to get back to now; someone waiting for you—” he started, but she cut him off.

“I-I don’t.”

At first, he looked somber, but then the corner of his mouth ticked up. “Then, you’re more than welcome to stay here until you’re feeling up to heading back out.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, old foster kid tendencies kicking back in.

“It’d be my pleasure, love.”

He made cocoa and got a fire started in the hearth of the rather spartan cabin—with its lightly nautical decor on its wooden walls—and she just watched as he worked, in awe of his graceful movements that belied the strength under them, and keenly aware of both his presence and the things it did to her heart (and other places).

The light coming in from the many windows quickly faded to the inky blue-black of night, and he closed the navy curtains to prevent the incoming chill that surely accompanied those late-fall flurries she’d glimpsed. Those hadn’t been in the forecast, but then she remembered that she was partway up a mountain and not at her little seaside cottage—though her home was nearly as secluded as his.

Conversation over dinner, with both of them curled up on the couch, only confirmed what she suspected: he too had a rough life, involving growing up without parents; losing his brother, his hand, and his first love; and the decision to make a fresh (if lonely) new start in the States. She told him about her similar childhood, her broken heart and the child she had to give up, and her own selective solitude, save for a few friends.

“Why do you do that?” he asked her as he set about clearing the plates.

“Do what?” She was confused as she watched him move about the room, and felt her defenses instinctively rise at being challenged.

“Keep everyone at arm’s length,” he answered when he settled back on the sofa, closer than he’d been before. “They obviously care about you.”

“Why do you live by yourself in a cabin in the woods?” she lightly tossed back in a well-honed deflection, using a flirtatious tone that she was surprised to find was genuine for the first time in years.

“Fair point,” he conceded with an easy grin and a light chuckle. Then he swallowed. “But, if I did have people like that in my life,” he started, pausing to nervously scratch behind his ear, “I’d be loathe to stay closed off.”

She couldn’t hold back her response. “Even after all you’ve been through; everyone you’ve lost?”

“Aye.”

“You’re not scared?” She was speaking from experience, she knew.

“I live on a mountain by myself. Scared isn’t the least of it,” he answered, almost self-deprecatingly. Staring at floor, he finished, “I just don’t think that’s in the cards for me anymore.”

She was certain now she was dreaming: there was no way she just happened to stumble upon a handsome man with all the same issues she had. Surely the universe was playing a trick on her, or it had picked an odd way to teach her a lesson about her own use of emotional walls. Because seeing the way they were built up on Killian—someone who clearly had an immense capacity and desire for love—made her realize that while hers might keep the bad things out, they were also preventing the good from coming in.

So maybe it was time to take a risk and punch a hole through them.

She placed her hand on his arm, just above his prosthetic, drawing his guarded gaze back to her. Her heart raced at the physical contact, as innocent as it was, but if Killian’s quick draw of breath told her anything it was that he was impacted by it, too.

“That’s not true, Killian. You deserve to love and be loved.” The tense draw of his features softened as he absorbed her words, and that was enough to give her the courage to continue. She took a deep breath. “Maybe we both do.”

For a moment, they were both frozen, letting the weight of her words suspend between them. He was studying her with an almost inquisitive look, and she feared she’d overstepped her bounds, but then he slowly leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers.

It was tentative at first, from both of them; they were clearly out of practice. But his silken lips felt like heaven against hers, and she tilted her head to deepen the kiss. He instinctively moved closer, eliminating what distance had remained between them, and reciprocated by burying his hand in her loose hair.

She nipped at his lush bottom lip and slid her hands up his arms to his shoulders; when she squeezed, they felt warm and strong through the flannel. Ignoring her injury, she threw a leg over his lap to straddle him. She was worried he might protest, but when he wrapped his left arm around her waist, she could tell they were very much still on the same page. In no time at all, their tongues were as tangled as his fingers in her hair, and Emma’s hands were drifting down his firm chest to the top button of his shirt.

Slowly, not giving up her assault on his mouth, she undid the first closure and waited for a reaction. Her caution surprised her, but she really didn’t want to mess this up. The gentle pelvic thrust he gave in response, though, spurred her on, and in no time at all, the shirt was open and her hands were pushing the flannel down his broad shoulders and over his large biceps, and he leaned forward to help her guide it over the straps of his prosthetic, off his arms, and toss it aside. Her fingers traced the dips of his collar bones before trailing down to his pecs and pressing against the muscles there. Briefly, she let her hands dance in the hair that covered his chest; it was dark and coarse, but sparse enough that it felt smooth with the skin underneath.

She was glad she’d taken off her leather jacket when she first got in as Killian’s hand drew a line of fire down her back through her thin sweater. Following her move, his thumb worked its way under the hem to the skin of her stomach and began to slide up until he was palming her breast through her lacy bra. (Honestly, she’d only worn it because it was the last one clean; fate obviously had known something she didn’t.) Her shirt suddenly felt constricting and sweltering, so she reluctantly broke the kiss to tug it off and toss it across the room.

Once free of the garment, she took a second to breathe in the relief of the cool air on her overheated skin. Then she returned her attention to Killian, who was staring back in awe. The fire made his blue eyes sparkle—or maybe it was just the wide-eyed way he was looking at her, the fine skin around them crinkling with his smile, that made him seem so much more carefree and younger than only minutes ago. His eyes darted as he studied her, so she took the opportunity to do the same: he had the perfect dusting of hair across his chest and in a line down his abdomen. He wasn’t one of those chiseled body-builder types that tended to be the norm in female fantasies; he was obviously fit and solid, but also soft enough to cuddle up with later on—which, if she had her way, she’d be doing later rather than sooner.

“So bloody beautiful,” he breathed, shifting his hips and sitting up to wrap his arms around her waist and bring her closer. She felt his jean-clad erection brush against her core through her leggings, sending a jolt of heat straight through her and making her grip his sides to anchor herself.

“So ‘re you,” she murmured back, her raspy voice matching the flush that had started at her center and now surely covered her exposed skin, but she was too enraptured with the freckles on his cheeks and the way his fringe fell over his forehead to care. And at the same instant, they came back together in another searing kiss.

Soon, Killian’s attentions moved from her mouth, down her jaw, and sucked a line down her neck that had her head falling back, eyes closed in pleasure. She sighed as he moved across her collarbone, tugging her bra strap down as he nipped and kissed, stoking the fire within her just as easily he had the one in the hearth.

Seeking relief, she instinctively grinded into him. She chuckled when he groaned at the contact, and tucked herself into his neck, placing tiny kisses against his warm skin and breathing in his scent. He smelled familiar, like pine and cedar, with a hint of a spice she couldn’t think of. It was incredible and so perfectly him; they should bottle it. Or make a candle out of it. Wait—

“Oh my God, you even smell like the damn candle!” she exclaimed with her face still buried in the crook of his neck.

“The wha?” he slurred, pulling back from her. She sat up and he was staring at her, brow furrowed in confusion.

“The Mountain Lodge candle, from Yankee Candle,” she explained. He raised an eyebrow in question, but didn’t seem to know where she was going. So she babbled on, “It’s this candle that smells all and manly and woodsy and like the perfect stereotypical female fantasy. And you smell just like it.”

“Is that a bad thing?” he wondered with a slight smirk.

“No, not at all,” she answered, much calmer, but she was still convinced the universe was playing some trick on her. She dragged her hands back up to his shoulders, feeling every bump and curve and line in between as if to make sure he was actually there. At this point, she couldn’t bear the thought that he might not be. “Just...tell me that you’re real,” she entreated. “Tell me that this isn’t all some romance novel fantasy playing out in my head.”

He licked his lips in a move that should have been lewd, but the tender look in his eyes and soft smile on his lips made it something else entirely—something that should have scared her, and probably both of them, but just made her heart race even more: something bordering on loving.

In a low voice, he told her, “How about I show you?”

He slid his hand from where it had settled at her hips down over the curve of her rear and used both arms to guide her legs around his waist. She gripped his shoulders and squeezed her thighs as he stood, until he had her held tight against him.

As he carried her (yet again), she made quick work of her bra, letting it join her top wherever it had landed in the great room, and then laid herself back on him, chest to chest. The hair across his pecs tickled her stimulated nipples in the best way, and she let out a slow exhale at the sensation.

Because her life was a cliche now, there was a large fur rug in front of the fireplace. There, Killian knelt and laid her down; the coarse fur was surprisingly plush and felt smooth against her bare skin. He disappeared, and she sat partway up, worried, but he returned a moment later holding the throw pillows from the couch and wordlessly propped her injured ankle with one.

Seriously—she must have fallen and hit her head in the woods, and was presently dying of exposure for this to be her reality. Even as Killian started placing kisses at the hollow of her throat, trailing them down the center of her body until he reached the waistband of her leggings, and then continuing the line whilst slowly pulling off her pants and undies at once—even then she was pinching herself to make sure this wasn’t a dream. Granted, “pinching herself” awfully resembled” stroking her nipples,” but it had the same effect.

She still couldn’t believe it as she watched him gently part her legs, guide the healthy one to a propped position, and lift her hips to support them with the other pillow, despite all the feelings stirred by his careful ministrations. It wasn’t until he took a first tentative lick at her entrance that she was thoroughly convinced this wasn’t make believe. Because there was no way she could even imagine anyone as talented as Killian going down on her.

It was all she could do to not rut against his face, and thankfully his warm hand was pressed low on her stomach, both holding her in place and keeping a comforting weight on her growing pleasure. She found herself gripping the rug as he lapped at her folds, varying the speed and depth at which his skilled tongue maneuvered. The brush of his beard against her delicate skin tingled in the most delicious way. Every swipe of his tongue brought her closer and closer to her peak, which she’d been fairly close to before he even started.

She tensed, trying to hold it off and vaguely aware of the way he himself seemed uncomfortable, but he noticed her hesitation. He glanced up at her from between her legs and, in a wrecked voice, practically begged, “Come for me, love.”

And, because she was finding that she couldn’t deny him anything, she did. A second later, she fell over the edge, climaxing with a shout as waves of pleasure ran through her body, rippling out from her core. Not even the dull ache from her ankle, which had moved during her release, could crash this high.

Killian, eternal gentleman that he was, licked her sex a few more times as she came down before sitting back on his haunches to readjust her ankle. He moved awkwardly, though, and she could the strain of his arousal still very evident, if not more so.

Careful not to move her leg, she slowly sat up. He tried to stop her. “Easy there; you don’t want to—”

But his protestation died with a low growl when the back of her hand brushed the fly of his jeans and the hardness beneath. She repeated the motion with the heel of her palm, eliciting an even deeper moan, his head falling back and spine arching at her touch. Again she stroked, and reveled in watching his chest heave; he was somehow even more beautiful when aroused and she could feel her own desire building once more, even so soon after the last.

“Emma—please—” he stuttered, reaching for and stilling her wrist before she could stroke again.

As best she could from her awkward seated position, she leaned forward and whispered in his pointed ear, “Your turn.” He sighed and nodded.

Quickly but carefully, she undid his fly and pushed down his boxer briefs to free his stiff cock, which was, of course, as attractive as the rest of him and ready to go. Gently but firmly, she grasped his narrow hips and tugged him forward, sliding her hands to his lower back as they moved and slipping his clothes over his firm ass. Bracing himself on his forearms while she leaned back on her elbows, he managed to shake off his pants and then, once free of the offending garments, hovered over her.

Lightly, she placed a hand on the back of his neck and pulled him down to her; even if it had only been minutes since their lips had last been joined, that was much too long as far as she was concerned.

While their mouths resumed their earlier waltz, her other hand trailed down his back and circled his side down to his manhood and began to stroke. He was like smooth velvet and warm in her hand as she slowly pulled from the base to the tip of his generous girth. His whole body shuddered on the first drag, and he hissed and bit his lip; but it was back to kissing on the next, and eventually his hand wandered to her breast, caressing it while she did the same to him.

The longer she worked, the more his hips moved with her, occasionally brushing his hardened length against her core. If the way he was slowly coming apart under her touch wasn’t enough to renew her arousal, that did it for sure.

So when he pulled back, strained and panting and stuttering, “I—I need—,” she cut him off.

“I want you,” she whispered. “Inside.”

His eyes opened wide. “Are you sure, Emma? Do we need—”

She appreciated his train of thought, but it wasn’t necessary. “We’re good. Now, please,” she breathed, “get inside me.”

“As you wish.”

He placed his hand over hers on his shaft, keeping it in place, and knelt back a bit. She guided him, circling her entrance with the tip of his cock. And then he slowly slid in, stretching and filling her perfectly and wholly.

They only paused there for a second, overwhelmed by the feeling of being joined, when both started shifting at the same time.

Somewhat startled, she grabbed his waist as he slowly pulled part of the way out. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, gripping her side and using his left arm to support him. He quickly thrust back in as she arched her hips up to meet him. He smiled at her movement, and what could she say? She was impatient to have him back inside her when it felt so good.

They set a rhythm with their push-pull, in and out, plunging and thrusting, feeling every beautiful inch of him drag against her walls as her hands did the same along his strong back. They were constantly increasing the pace until the pressure built within her was even more than before. Killian’s halting movements told her he was close, too.

“Love, I’m about to—” “Got it.” She reached in between them, finding the nub of her clit, and she’d hardly even made contact before she was coming, her release gripping her as shocks consumed her body and her head fell back with a rapturous gasp. She was sorry that she couldn’t see the look on Killian’s face when he followed her not a second later, but she could feel him stilling and pulsing within and heard his cry of pleasure.

They let bliss consume them for an unknown amount of time, only aware of the high they’d reached together and the feel of one another within and around them. But eventually, Killian slipped out and collapsed next to her on the rug, keeping an arm around her.

“So,” he panted, “does that convince you I’m real?” She turned her head to look at him, unsurprised to see an amused smirk topped by an arched brow.

She hummed back. “Yeah, I think so. But,” she started, reaching over to brush his hair off his forehead, “you’re more than welcome to make sure I really know. Maybe a change in scenery is needed?”

He gave a devilish grin. “How about the bedroom? The mattress springs are rather loud; there’s no way anyone can sleep through that.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Sunlight and the sound of birds chirping awoke Emma the next day. She blearily blinked her eyes to see the frosty world outside the window, snow dusting the branches in contrast to the bright red leaves.

She was sore in all the right places, save for her bum ankle, and stretched under the thick down blanket covering the bed.

Arms tightened around her and the body behind her shifted in protest of her movement. More carefully this time, she flipped over, and there he was: just as warm and soft and solid as he was last night.

Killian cracked an eye open as she placed her hand on the smooth skin of his stomach, near the V of hips. “Everything alright, love?” he asked, his voice gravelly with sleep.

“Perfect,” she whispered, then placed a small, tender kiss on his lips and tucked herself back into him, her head on his chest.

So what if the past 24 hours had felt like a romance novel? She never imagined her life would ever resemble a work of fantasy—especially one like this—but she couldn’t poke fun or complain here. All that mattered was that it was real.  

Hope this warms some people up! tagging some friends who might be interested @kat2609 @thesschesthair @fergus80 @xpumpkindumplingx @its-like-a-story-of-love @shipsxahoy @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @wingedlioness @fairytalesandtimetravel @word-bug @pirateherokillian @bleebug @its-imperator-furiosa @flipperbrain @disastergirl @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @jscoutfinch @nfbagelperson @stubble-sandwich @killian-whump @lenfaz @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @jackieorioncat

[betterwithchocolate-blog1]

Sherlock/ Sherlolly headcanon

I tried to make it a bit more realistic/ different from what I usually see. Hope you enjoy! :)

Warning beforehand: Gory scenes, swearing and violence

Written by @betterwithchocolate​

Length: about 2000 words

***

It had been a rainy day in London. Though as nightfall approached, the gentle afternoon drizzle had twitched into a heavily pouring shower with wind so vile it scratches and burned every inch of exposed skin raw.

Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, was walking down Baker Street, thankful he had a large upturned collar to protect him from the harsh weather. He did not mind it, though. In fact, he liked the rain, especially when it came storming and breezing as heavily as it did tonight. It reminded him of himself in a way, of his unstoppable obsessive energy, of the way his mind could spin and race in every direction.

Ironically, the storm never caused his thoughts to run wild. The heavy rainfall caused doused the sounds of the city in white noise, and allowed him to think.

His feet splashed on the pavement as his flat came into view, and Holmes was immediately alerted towards the figure in front of his flat, sitting on his steps. The figure was hunched over, face in their hands, knees pulled in to the chest. They were unprotected from the weather, not even wearing a coat. From a distance, Sherlock could tell it, she, was a woman. 

As he approached the woman, more detail of her became visible. His mind starting analysing immediately, in the way he was accustomed to.

“Woman. White blouse. Approximately 1.60 metres tall. Blonde-ginger hair. No coat. Why? Did she lose it?  No. She chose to, otherwise she would’ve looked for cover. Hunched? Crying? Probably. Yes. Why? Six possible reasons. Not important. Who? Ginger hair, petite posture. Strong, unbothered by the storm. Molly.” 

As he got closer, he could see more detail of her face. “Blood. Injured on cheekbone and forehead. Two likely reasons for crying.”  Immediately Sherlock quickened his pace towards her and stopped abruptly before her, his coat moving after the sudden change of speed.

“Molly.”

She took her head out of her hands and looked up to Sherlock, she was doused in rain, though not crying. Sherlock noticed that the injuries were made by blunt object with sharp protrusions, and that they were somewhat more severe than he had initially thought, since most of them had been hidden in her hands.

She had cuts on her cheek, multiple sets of two gashes parallel to each other. One likely explanation. That arrogant prick-

“Sh-Sherlock,” Molly stuttered. “I can’t- I don’t know why-” She put her head in her hands again, but only for a brief second.

Sherlock took off his coat and wrapped it around Molly.

“Let’s get you inside.” He already felt the icy water leaking through his shirt. “Up you go.” He said as he helped her stand.

Molly wiped the rain and blood from her face, and Sherlock saw a tinge of pain move through her expression as she did. 

Sherlock helped her up the steps, making sure the coat protected her at all times.

“Mrs. Hudson! Tea!” He yelled as he opened the door for Molly. She was shivering a bit, but suppressing it.

Quickly enough, Mrs. Hudson stepped into the hall. “Sherlock, how many times have I told you that I‘m not your-” Mrs. Hudson was cut off by herself, the moment she laid eyes on Molly. “Oh dear, Oh dear, Oh dear!” Were the only sounds heard from her as she turned towards her flat, followed by the rattle of cups shortly after.

Sherlock helped Molly up the stairs. Her hands were trembling, her breath were quivering.

Upon entering his flat, he let go of Molly, and quickly fetched a pile of clothes from his room before walking back to her.

“Sherlock I want to explain...”

“No need. You are cold and dehydrated, likely in shock. Go take a shower first, warm yourself up, and make sure to clean your wounds.”

“But there’s more”

“Yes. I’ve noticed.” He said, and then thought he might’ve spoken too loudly. Quickly he added “Just go shower, we will discuss that after you get yourself warmed up. Okay?”

Molly nodded as she took the pile from Sherlock’s hands. “Okay.”

She walked towards the shower, but before she got in Sherlock turned around in her direction and said “Oh, and leave the door unlocked.”

She nodded again in understanding and then stepped into the bathroom with a small smile, even though Sherlock saw she was in pain.

He was going to tear Tom apart.

***

After Molly had went into the bathroom, he had put on his coat and went outside to face the heavy rain again, before getting in a cab and driving towards Molly’s flat, or rather several streets removed from it. The last few streets he crossed by foot with a steady, fast pace, hands in his pockets, collar upturned. He looked sternly on a fixed point in front of him, before shaking his expression as he climbed the steps in front of Molly’s flat. He put on a mask of friendliness as he rang the doorbell, as he so often had done before.

“Hello?” Tom’s voice sounded from the intercom.

“Yes tom hi!” Sherlock said, in a joyful tone. “Good to talk to you. I was wondering, is Molly home? There is a very urgent matter I must discuss with her”

“Oh hi Sherlock, No... She’s not at the moment unfortunately.”

“Oh. Good. Because I eh, actually, I came to see you.” Sherlock hated mistreating his sentences like this. However, he knew it would have the desired effect. There was a short silence.

“You, you came to see me?” Tom sounded positively surprised. “Eh, okay, yeah sure. Come on up.” His words were followed by the sound of the buzzer. Sherlock grinned. He had known Tom was gay from the moment he saw him. However, he now regretted not telling Molly about it. He just didn’t want to spoil her relationship like he did before, when he first met Moriarty.

He pounded up the stairs, letting his friendly face fall off of him like a brick, and taking off his shawl to put it in his pocket. When he reached Molly’s door, he knocked lightly. Tom opened immediately.

“Hi.” Tom had a smile on his face; Sherlock saw Tom’s knuckles were bruised. He felt disgusted.

“Hello.”

“Come in.” Tom opened the door a bit wider and let Sherlock through. “You know I doubted whether you were gay,” Tom started, as he closed the door.

The moment the door lock clicked behind him, Sherlock whirled and turned around towards Tom, cutting off his sentence. Tom started smiling, though Sherlock wasn’t smiling at all. Before Tom could start speaking again, Sherlock grabbed him by the collar with one hand, and gave a sharp hit with the palm of his other towards Tom’s nostril bone. His head snapped back, his eyes pressed shut with pain. His nose started to bleed. “What the hell!” Tom yelled.

Sherlock yanked Tom forward, letting him trip over his leg, making tom fall face first to his own living room floor. Before he could get up Sherlock quickly delivered a large kick towards Tom’s abdomen, making him curl up and groan almost pitifully. It was a kick enough to injure, not to maim. He probably wouldn’t feel a thing of it anymore in a week, in contrast to the pain molly would have to endure the following month.

“Please!” Tom yelled out, coughing out the blood streaming from his nose. “Please stop!” Tom wretched as Sherlock paused and looked down at him, his gaze disgusted. “I-I, What have I done to deserve this? Are you just doing this for fun?! You’re insane! Bloody psychopath! Get away from me!” He tried to get up, though Sherlock grabbed him by the collar and pulled him towards the kitchen, in which molly had gotten stone flooring laid. When they reached the kitchen Sherlock dropped Tom the way a child would drop an insect after being told its toxicity, and then crouched down beside him.

“First of all,” Sherlock started as he held Tom’s neck backwards in an unnatural angle. “High functioning sociopath.”

“Second of all, you might want to look towards the bruises on your knuckles on your hand regarding as to why I’m doing this. Based on the intensity of the wounds, you must’ve hit with this hand at least seven, no, eight times. Quite recently, it appears, the scabs are still very fresh, wouldn’t you say?”

“Molly was just a stupid b-”

“It would be wise for you to shut up now” Sherlock interrupted “You see, Tom, if there is something I do not stand for, It is domestic abuse or other forms of physical mistreatment towards those smaller than your own size.” Sherlock got up and put the heel of his shoe right atop of Tom’s bruised hand. “If you ever again get the, I must say, extremely idiotic idea to lay a hand on Molly Hooper, please remember this visit of mine, and choose otherwise.”

Tom groaned in pain as Sherlock added pressure onto the hand.

“Actually, allow me to make that decision for you.” Sherlock said, as he lifted his foot up and brought the heel down hard on Tom’s hand, shattering at least three finger bones and two bones connecting the wrist and knuckles. Tom screamed, though not very loud.

“Have I made myself clear?” Sherlock asked. The only response he got was a painful cough through clenched teeth. After that, Sherlock turned around and showed himself out. On the front steps, he phoned Lestrade, saying that there had been a burglary at Molly’s flat, and that Tom had gotten himself quite injured in the process.

When George arrived at the scene, Sherlock told him that Molly had ran to his flat in the panic, that she was soaked wet in rain and just as beaten up as Tom was, which lestrade found odd.

“The odd thing was, inspector, that Miss Hooper had multiple pairs of parallel cuts across her cheek, and I couldn’t quite place with what object she had been attacked.”

“All right, Sherlock, We’ll look into it.”

Completely ignoring with what George had said, Sherlock responded “Have you noticed the ring Tom wears, has 2 stones in it?  An intricate design, even if I do say so myself.”

Lestrade was silent for a second. “Yes it is, now that you say so.”

Sherlock smiled at Lestrade briefly before turning around on his way home. “Goodnight inspector!”

***

As she stepped through the door, the storm behind him had calmed to a continuous gentle drizzle, tapping softly on the windows as he heard the warm crackling of the fire in his flat upstairs.

Mrs. Hudson told him John had gotten home while he was out; he had checked on molly’s injuries and was now out to get her some painkillers. He wanted to say that that had hardly had been necessary, for he had a plenitude of painkilling narcotics upstairs. Nevertheless, he decided against it.

In his living room, Molly was sitting on a pillow in front of the fire, with a blanket wrapped around her and her second cup of tea in her hands. She was facing the fire, staring blankly into it. She turned her head when she heard him come in.

“Sherlock hi, I noticed you had gone, um, out.” She looked down.

He took of his wet coat and put it on the coat hanger. “Yes I did, I paid a short visit to Tom. Though the weirdest thing happened, I got there, and he had been beaten up by a burglar.”

Molly looked up, surprised, shocked perhaps. “He was? What happened?” Sherlock walked towards her, and sat down next to her in front of the fire.

“Possible broken nose, broken hand and multiple injured vital organs. He’ll be fine though, don’t worry. However, there is one thing has got me thinking.”

“And what’s that?”

“The hand that was broken had already been injured before. He had hit someone today, multiple times, and hard.” He paused a second before he continued. “But you were the only one that had been with him all day long.”

Molly snivelled a bit, though Sherlock didn’t see any tears. Sherlock saw she realised why he had gone out, and she only said a three small words in response.

“Thank you, Sherlock.”

He pulled her close to his chest

“No need.” He said. “He’s never getting near you again.” Then he leaned his cheek on her head and rocked her lightly.

“You’re safe now, Molly Hooper, you’re safe.”

***

[tali-zora]

Rainbow Skates

For @hiatustory   Words: 1,234, T Summary: John attends the London Pride Parade with Harry and Clara for the first time and meets the man of his dreams. On roller skates. 

“I really think you’d enjoy it Johnny.” Harry said, again for at least the sixth time that morning.

John’s eyes moved from watching his twin stripe their cheeks with body paint to the ceiling. “And I agree with you, I think I’d like it too.” John could hear Harry huff, they must have smudged the paint again.

“Then how come you don’t wanna come?” Harry growled to themselves and stomped into the kitchen to wet their washcloth again, John would have to soak it when they left. Otherwise, the paint would be a bitch to get out.

“Because.” John replied. Harry threw the wet cloth at John’s head. “You know, the genderqueer flag would have been easier to paint on your face, right? Fewer colours, and that.” He waved a hand vaguely in Harry’s direction.

“No shit, Johnny.” Harry was silent for a moment, “Clara will be there, you could be her escort, you know like old times when a lady needed such things.” Harry snorted at their own joke.

“Eh, somehow I don’t think Clara would be interested.”

Harry laughed, “I wonder if she remembered to bring the flags this time? She’s always forgetting them!” There was silence between the twins for a while, John wasn’t sure how much time had passed.

He’d been thinking, thinking about finally going. This year, he could be brave enough. This year could be the year, screw what his parents thought, what his co-workers thought, what his old classmates thought. They’d all know if he was caught on camera at the parade and if that moment of film was shown on TV during their coverage of the parade. They’d see him, on TV. Taking part in a pride parade. Perhaps wrapped in a bisexual flag, possibly arm-in-arm with another bisexual, or gay, or transgender person.

Sometimes John thought he was making a bigger deal out of his sexuality than it really was. John knew people who had come out as homosexual and were treated like garbage by their families, their friends. Sometimes John thought it was just easier to keep dating women, he liked them. The thing was, he liked men too. And John wanted to date men. Openly.

“I want to… But… I can’t.” John blurted out before his brain had really given his mouth permission to open and speak.

Harry turned around, they’d managed to get the genderfluid flag perfectly striped across one cheek and was starting on the rainbow flag on the other side. They just stared at John and didn’t say anything.

Then the doorbell rang.

“Th-that’ll be Clara.” Harry muttered and made their way to the door to let her in.

Clara burst into Harry’s flat in a whirlwind of glitter and rainbow flags and excited energy. John loved Clara, she was the most fun person he’d ever met. John watched his twin grab their girlfriend up in a passionate kiss, beyond pleased when he noticed one of Clara’s legs lift, just like in those sappy romance movies.

“Well, hello to you too!” Clara giggled. “Now, John! Harry’s told me to bring you a flag, I’m not pressuring you mind. I just thought. You know? If you wanted to join us, you might like a flag.” Clara shrugged and pulled out a brand new bisexual pride flag. John’s heart swelled and his eyes prickled and he decided. Yes. He would go. Screw everyone else.

---

John was actually doing this. He was actually here. At a pride parade. For real. There was a sea of colours all around him. People in drag, covered in bright feathers and glitter and shoes with heels higher than John had ever seen. People in body pain, covered in rainbows and flowers and smiley faces. People wearing pride flags, transgender, bisexual, pansexual, asexual, agender and more. There were flags John hadn’t even seen before.

It was the best thing John had ever experienced. John watched in awe as a group of the fittest men he’d ever seen in his life skated past on roller skates covered in glitter waving rainbow flags wildly. One of them with a mad head of dark brown curly hair did a pirouette, spotted John watching and winked at him. The biggest, stupidest grin spread over John’s face and he laughed. Why had he been scared to come here his whole life?

“Johnny! Wipe that grin off your face and come help us with the banner!” Harry called to him. John didn’t stop grinning but he did go and help his twin.

---

John had been walking through the streets of London for about two hours when the ‘accident’ happened. One of the men wearing rollerskates happened to loose a wheel as he glided past John and quite literally fell into John’s arms. Harry would forever tell anyone who would listen that this was how John met his future husband. Sherlock would forever insist that it had been a real accident, and had not in fact been planned by the genius. At all.

“Whoa!” John gasped and quickly grabbed the man saving him from an intimate meeting of the road with his face.

“Oh!” The stranger gasped, a little overdramatically. “Oh no! My skate broke, what a shame!”

“Are you alright?” John asked the man was just hanging there, in his arms. Apparently quite content to be held.

“Of course, how could I not be? I’ve been saved by a single military doctor, on leave from Afghanistan. Honestly, I think this is the best day ever.”

John laughed and finally pulled the man upright so he could stand on his own. “H-how did you know about Afghanistan?”

The stranger turned to face John and that was it. John was screwed. He was beautiful, his eyes were sparkling, his hair was curly, dark brown, a huge mess on his head, it was the skater who’d winked at him! Those cheekbones oh god. Then the skater opened his mouth and John noticed his lips. Holy fu-

“Oh good! You find me attractive too, fantastic. Now, how do you feel about the violin?”

John was still staring at the stranger's lips. The way they formed words was, really quite ridiculously sexy.  “What?”

“I play the violin when I’m thinking.”

The skater had a rainbow flag painted across his chest, John tried to think about the violin. “I don’t have any strong feeling either way about the violin.”

“Great! What about murder?”

“Sorry?” The man’s neck was just begging for John to suck on it.

“I’ve just started consulting with the MET. I help them solve murders when they’re out of their depth. Which is always.”

“Okay… Why are you telling me this?”

“Potential boyfriends should know the worst about each other don’t you think?”

“Bo-boy-boyfriends?”

“Yes.”

John blinked, “Is this your way of asking me out?”

“Yes.” The brunette stepped closer to John, now he could feel the warmth radiating from his chest. He smelled amazing. John wanted to lick him.

“I-I-I… I have a bit of a temper. And my twin gave me a bulldog puppy for Christmas.” John couldn’t think of anything else at the moment that classified as ‘the worst of him’.

The skater actually squealed and danced around in a circle. “You have a puppy!? Oh god, you’re perfect. Marry me.”

John grinned, “I don’t even know your name!”

“Sherlock Holmes. I’m gay.” Sherlock winked.

“John Watson. I’m bi.”

“Like I said, perfect.”

THE END.