#I love that she just sends him on a press tour while she chills somewhere

[path-of-my-childhood]

Aaron Dessner on the 'Weird Avalanche' That Resulted in Taylor Swift's “Evermore”

By: Lyndsey Havens for Billboard Date: December 18th 2020

One day this fall, Taylor Swift walked into Aaron Dessner’s home to wish his daughter a happy 9th birthday - but that wasn't the only reason Swift was there.

She was mostly there to film the Disney+ special, Folklore: The Long Pond Studio Sessions, in which she was meeting up with her primary Folklore collaborators - The National’s Dessner and Jack Antonoff. They had all gathered for the first time at Dessner’s upstate New York studio to play her record-breaking album live.

On the last night of filming the special (a process that was done while following CDC guidelines, with a limited crew and COVID-19 testing), Dessner recalls how he, Antonoff and Swift stayed up until 4:00 or 5:00 a.m. - drinking and celebrating the more-than-warm embrace Folklore had received. But in the days that followed, Swift ended up staying, and she and Dessner unexpectedly continued working. Eventually, they had 17 more songs, all of which became the sister album, Evermore, released on Dec. 11.

“Folklore almost immediately was treated as a classic or a masterpiece,” says Dessner. “It was elevated fairly quickly and had been commercially really successful, so obviously it’s hard to follow something like that up. But one of the things I love about Evermore is the ways in which Taylor was jumping off different cliffs. The ability she has to tell these stories, but also push what she’s doing musically, is really kind of astonishing. It’s like I went to some crash course, some masters program, for six months.”

Below, Dessner tells Billboard all about the work that went into his second album in five months with one of the world's biggest pop stars.

With Folklore a lot of the production and arrangements came from a folder you had sent Taylor. Did you continue to pull from there, or was Evermore made from scratch?

A lot more of it was made from scratch. After Folklore came out, I think Taylor had written two songs early on that we both thought were for Big Red Machine, “Closure” and “Dorothea.” But the more I listened to them, not that they couldn’t be Big Red Machine songs, but they felt like interesting, exciting Taylor songs. “Closure” is very experimental and in this weird time signature, but still lyrically felt like some evolution of Folklore, and “Dorothea” definitely felt like it was reflecting on some character.

And I, sort of in celebration of Folklore, had written a piece of music that I titled “Westerly,” that’s where she has the house that she wrote “Last Great American Dynasty” about. I’ll do that sometimes, just make things for friends or write music just to write it, but I didn’t at all think it would become a song. And she, like an hour later, sent back “Willow” written to that song, and that sort of set [things in motion] and we just started filling this Dropbox again. It was kind of like, “What’s happening?”

And then it just kept going. She wrote "Gold Rush” with Jack [Antonoff] and by the end there were 17 songs, and it was only a couple months after Folklore came out, so it’s pretty wild. Each time we would just be in disbelief and kind of like, “How is this possible?” Especially because we didn’t need to talk much about structure or ideas or anything - it was just this weird avalanche.

Considering how industry-shaking Folklore was, what pressure did that introduce this time around?

I think because of how we made it, it really wasn’t like producing some giant record or something, it still had this very homespun feeling to it. There may have been a moment or two when I think Taylor was wondering when and how to put out Evermore, but I think the stronger it became, and as each song came together, it just started to feel like, "This is a sister record - it’s part of the same current of creativity and collaboration and the stories feel inter-related."

And aesthetically, to me, Evermore is wilder and has more of a band dynamic at times. You can feel her songwriting sharpen even more on it, in terms of storytelling, and also just this freedom to make the kinds of songs that were coming. When she started to write in a less diaristic way and tell these stories, I think she found she had this incredible wealth of experience and depth to her storytelling that was quite natural. She could easily make these songs more reflective or blur the lines of what’s autobiographical and what's not in interesting ways. It felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Folklore was made entirely remotely, how did that process change for Evermore?

This was both. Some of it was remote, but then after the Folklore: The Long Pond Studio Sessions, Taylor stayed for quite a while and we recorded a lot. She actually wrote “‘Tis the Damn Season” when she arrived for the first day of rehearsal. We played all night and drank a lot of wine after the fireside chat - and we were all pretty drunk, to be honest - and then I thought she went to bed. But the next morning, at 9:00 a.m. or something, she showed up and was like, “I have to sing you this song,” and she had written it in the middle of the night. That was definitely another moment [where] my brain exploded, because she sang it to me in my kitchen, and it was just surreal.

That music is actually older - it’s something I wrote many years ago, and hid away because I loved it so much. It meant something to me, and it felt like the perfect song finally found it. There was a feeling in it, and she identified that feeling: That feeling of... “The ache in you, put there by the ache in me.” I think everyone can relate to that. It’s one of my favorites.

Did you watch the Disney+ special?

I’m not a big fan of watching myself - but I did watch it, and I thought it was beautiful. It’s funny, because it was very DIY in a sense; a tight little small crew was there to do it, nobody was styling us or fixing our hair or anything like that, it’s very authentic. I rehearsed a little bit before, but both of us - Jack and I - were pretty much figuring it out as we went.

And I think the nice thing is that all of the songs could work like that, and that’s partly a testament to the strength of the album. Without big production tricks or backing vocals or anything like that, the songs stand up, and Taylor just sang the crap out of them. And hanging out with them was so much fun. They’re kind of like siblings almost; they’ve known each other a long time, there’s this quick humor between them.

Would you like to do something like that again with Evermore?

I don’t know if you can recreate exactly what we did with Folklore. I haven’t actually talked to anyone about that. But to me, the songs of Evermore would be even more fun to play, because more of them feel like band songs. But, that being said, I won’t be disappointed if we don’t - there is no plan afoot right now to do that.

During an interview on Jimmy Kimmel Live! Jimmy asked Taylor about the rumors behind Woodvale and if there’s a third album coming, to which she said she’s exhausted. How are you feeling energy wise?

I think we both feel like it was Mission: Impossible - and we pulled it off. I imagine that we’ll make music together in some ways forever, because it was that sort of chemistry, and I’m so thankful and grateful for what happened, but I think there’s a lot there. It’s not just the two albums, there’s also bonus tracks, and two of my favorite songs aren’t even on this record. We’re not pouring into another one now.

I’m going to finish the Big Red Machine album - I was really very close to finishing it when all of a sudden the Folklore and Evermore vortex opened up, and actually Taylor has been really helpful and involved with that as well - and The National is starting to talk about making music, and I think she’ll probably take a break. But I’m so excited for any future things we might do -- it’s definitely a lifelong relationship. And I’d say the same for all the people who worked on these records, including my brother and everybody who contributed. It’s a really special legacy.

[oro-e-diamanti]

Quiet Music: Obbligato (Chapter Seven)

In collaboration with @bethanysnow

Off to the races with no time for nights gone wrong. Being at a wit's end deserves a reward, one of teasing breaths and words, adding to the stories the hallway could tell. Vulnerable words pinned to the wall and kissing it all better.

Content | Fluff

Pairing | fem!Reader x Damiano

Word Count | 7187

***

The morning was awkward, to say the least. Y/n had woken up first and before she could even look at the man beside her, her phone started ringing, management was calling. So she was off to work. No time for the thoughts that were still running around in her mind. No time to process.

They didn’t get to talk, she and Damiano. Both of them were hurrying to get packed up and get the others woken up to then get to the airport. It seemed impossible to find a quiet minute with just the two of them, some privacy, some peace of mind. The call from that morning was their manager, who had already been up for two hours ranting about some of the changes that needed to be made. Today it was going from zero to one hundred with no end in sight.

She had hoped things would calm down as they reached the airport, but chaos seemed to follow wherever they went. It started with Victoria panicking because she couldn’t locate her jacket anymore - she made sure to let everyone in the greater vicinity know that it was her absolute favourite and she had worn it in Rotterdam and she could not go anywhere, much less fly to London, without it. Luckily this ended up being one of Y/n’s easiest tricks that day. After retracing their steps throughout the terminal the jacket was quickly reclaimed from a lovely barista at a café who had collected it for safekeeping.

Y/n was hoping to catch her breath for a moment, but then Chili was being an absolute nuisance. Contrary to her normally chill and relaxed state of being, she now insisted on being cuddled and petted and having all the attention on her. Unfortunately, no one’s but Y/n’s attention would do, so she was stuck with a wriggling fur ball in her arms for the foreseeable future. It didn’t help when Ethan ran up to her in a panic, having realised that his hairbrush was missing. She wanted to calm him down, explain that there were more than enough shops to get a new one in London, but apparently, there was no hairbrush quite like it as if it was the magical reason behind his shiny hair. So with a sigh and Chili pressed against her, she called the hotel in Amsterdam requesting for them to look for the missing item and please send it to London. Express. They would be there for three days and it better arrive during that time. The confused receptionist promised to do her best.

When Y/n heavily fell into her seat on the plane she was looking forward to either a quick nap or a chance to talk to Damiano, who she conveniently chose to sit next to, but all plans evaporated as soon as Thomas claimed the aisle seat, excitedly chattering away. She could tell he was looking forward to getting back to London and having some free time there on top of it, but she really didn’t need to hear the story of how they all lived there for a while yet again. Damiano sent her a pitiful look, but all she could do was shrug. Shrug, lean back, and let Thomas’ talk lure her into sleep, hopefully.

***

Luckily, the flight wasn’t as bad this time around. Y/n still held tightly to her coat on lift-off and landing, but that seemed to be the extent of her uncomfortableness. Damiano kept his eyes on her, on the bandage around her wrist, as if waiting for it to come undone and her right along with it. It didn’t happen. They touched down in London within less than an hour.

Heathrow airport was crowded with fans. For the first time on that tour, it had gotten really bad. Security managed to keep people at bay though as the band and crew made their exit, not stopping for photos and full of apologies for having to leave. The shouting, the reaching hands, and the flashing cameras seemingly did nothing to improve Y/n’s mood, Damiano thought. Her face remained neutral, but he could see the little signs underneath. A short cab ride later, and the usual busy atmosphere of arriving at a hotel for the first time engulfed them. People moving luggage, figuring out rooming arrangements, crowding the lobby. Damiano stayed out of it, smoking a quick cigarette with Thomas and Ethan outside, before heading inside as well.

Damiano didn’t notice that anything was wrong until Y/n started raising her voice. It wasn’t like her. In the past two weeks of working with her, he had encountered her in a number of stressful situations. Enough that would make him lose his mind, but she was calm and collected, the type to take a deep breath instead of shouting at someone. So the way she was currently staring down the receptionist at the hotel that they were checking into both intrigued and bothered him. Trying not to draw too much attention to himself, he got closer to the scene, fumbling with some of their luggage standing next to the desk, just to listen in more closely.

“Check again, please,” Y/n requested, politeness nothing but a necessary feature in this conversation. “I do not have the time or the patience to deal with this mistake at this current moment.”

Damiano could see she was at her wit’s end, yet the need to stay professional was obvious.

“Bloody hell... You’d think after all of today at least one thing would go well. But no, I am stuck dealing with a broken computer and missing rooms.”

The man behind the counter sent her a slightly panicky look, hands shuffling between papers and typing on the keyboard in front of him.

“I can only apologise, I will do my absolute best to rectify this mistake,” the receptionist stated, voice much less steady than Y/n’s. She shook her head slightly, pulling out her phone and starting to type something into it. Probably updating their manager on what is happening.

“I sincerely hope that this is the last of the mistakes your hotel will be committing. We’re paying good money for this hotel, but London is big and I don’t think anyone would hesitate to book us somewhere else next time if the service here doesn’t suffice.” The air around her felt like static electricity, everything was prickly and on fire. “Now, please check again and then either have the correct number of rooms waiting for us or figure out another way to solve this problem. I know this probably isn’t your fault, but this needs a solution.”

The man standing in front of them quickly understood what was being asked of him. Y/n's body had remained creepily still through this, her eyes never leaving the person in front of her.

It was over as soon as it hard started. The receptionist handed her the keys and quickly mumbled something about the rooms being on the fifth floor and to the left. Y/n nodded, not necessarily happy, but visibly glad it was over. Turning around she faced Dami with an indescribable look on her face. He couldn’t believe what just happened, and how it was handled by their assistant. Looking at her right now she was agitated, sure, but whatever power she had just possessed? Damiano wanted to see it again.

***

The band crowded into the lift, and with each ding passing a floor Damiano’s need to do something grew. Attention was an easy thing for the singer to come by. Most of the time it was freely given and even then tenfold due to - well, Damiano being Damiano. But wanting attention was different, and wanting her attention, in particular, was a relatively new concept.

“Fifth Floor,” the monotone voice announced. Y/n made quick work handing everyone their room keys until she was only hanging to her own and Damiano’s. He took his chance.

“Can I walk you to your room?”

“Sure,” she answered, but the look in her eyes told him she was a little suspicious of his actions.

As they got closer to the door Damiano saw his chance. Reassuring himself that the hallway was now deserted of his bandmates, he quickly grabbed her - healthy! - wrist, turning her around and pressing her against the wall next to the door. Her expression was one of shock and surprise as he moved in closer, keeping her wrist against the wall and trapping her between his arms as he leaned against his hand on the other side of her head. Her breathing quickened noticeably and he couldn’t suppress a grin as he watched her look into his eyes, before flickering down to his lips and back up again. There was very little doubt concerning what she was thinking about. He had her in the palm of his hand. Right where he wanted her.

“You know, seeing you getting all hot and bothered down there… Very sexy.” His voice was low and gravelly. He was doing his absolute best to get her to falter under him, not shying away from employing all the tricks in the book. He moved in even closer now, only breaking eye contact when the angle made it impossible. His mouth to her ear, not quite touching, but close enough that he was sure she could feel his breath on her skin. “I should thank you… for all the… hard work you do.”

He resisted the temptation of pushing into her, letting his body collide with hers, letting her know exactly what he was talking about. Not now, not yet, he told himself. Instead, his hand carefully let go of her wrist, travelling down her arm, her side, across her body, with the softest touch, until he reached her other hand, which was grasping tightly onto the remaining room key. In a flash, he had snatched it out of her palm, backed away from her, and with a wink and a smirk that hopefully told her all she needed to know, he turned around to make his way to his room.

“Damiano! We still need to talk!” Y/n whisper-shouted. One look at her face was enough. Her skin had turned that favorable shade of red that Damiano had grown to love so much. She was still leaning against the wall, apparently not trusting her feet to carry her just yet. As he made his way to his room he couldn’t help but notice the bubbling of pride in his chest. Whatever she wanted to talk about, he was convinced it was going to go his way.

***

There was one person in this entire world that would be able to help sort out the mess in Y/n’s head. Stepping out onto the balcony, she quickly clicked her best friend’s name. One, two rings, and the familiar face popped up on her screen with a wide smile.

“Hi, love! How- oh my god, what is wrong?” Y/n’s face had always been much too easy to read for her friends.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Y/n protested, but the way her friend raised her eyebrows let her know that she would not get away with it. “Fine, that was a lie. Couple of things have gone wrong actually. Starting with my wrist!”

Y/n held the offending body park up into view, speech getting quicker as she continued.

“Fell onto it trying to escape Damiano and a private conversation he had with Victoria that I probably shouldn’t have heard. But I did, and I’ve not been able to stop thinking about it, and it’s bothering me quite a bit actually, which is silly, because all I’m supposed to do here is my job, right? But now I think that he doesn’t want to be in the same space as me, which is a problem, to say the least, but at the same time he does? He literally just got all up in my space actually, so I don’t know what’s happening?”

“Wow okay, take a breath and start from the beginning, please.”

And so Y/n did, catching her friend up on every single detail of the past days, every little look, every single word uttered, every movement made. She didn’t spare a single detail or blush-inducing moment.

“I don’t know what to do, or think, or say. I think I know what is happening, but then he turns around and does the opposite of what I’m expecting. It's infuriating.”

“Ah yes, let me guess. He’s constantly around, whatever you do? Checkin up on your, catching your eyes, always happens to sit next to you?”

“He does… Why do I feel like everyone here knows what is going on but me?”

"Y/n, listen. You're my best friend, but you're the dumbest human being I've ever encountered. It is so obvious that he likes you, it's almost painful to hear you talk about and not realise. Look at the way he is taking care of you, the way he tries to make you laugh, how he constantly wants your attention on him - why on earth do you think he's doing that? You need to talk to him, seriously."

“But I overheard-”

"You didn't hear shit! You don't even know the context of what he said! Now listen to me: You like him. He likes you. If I'm wrong about this, I'll personally allow you to come back home and beat me up ok?" A sigh came through the line, her friend's voice getting softer. "I know the past years have been hard on you. And I know you don't like letting people in. But you've got to take a chance every now and then and Damiano sounds like he'll be worth it. From what you've told me, it sounds like he sees you exactly for what you are: brilliant, clever, caring, beautiful. Don't let this go to waste, love."

"You know I hate it when you're right. But you probably are." Y/n felt much calmer already, even though the mere thought of having that talk with Damiano made her feel slightly queasy again. "I should talk to him. My head will never stop spinning otherwise."

"Well, I love it when I'm right! So I'm hanging up right now so you can go talk to him, bye love!"

Her face disappeared from the screen in an instant.

***

“She’s right, you know? You should talk to him.” Victoria watched as Y/n almost jumped at the sound of her voice. She had concentrated so hard on whoever she was video-calling that she hadn’t noticed her enter the balcony next door. Now, Vic hadn’t meant to listen, but privacy on tour was a fickle thing and as soon as she realised what - or who - the topic of conversation was, she couldn’t help herself.

“Oh! Hi, Vic. Sorry, what?” Y/n asked, quite obviously startled. “I’m assuming you heard most of that conversation then.”

“I did. But that’s okay, please don’t worry about it. You know, I’m saying this as your friend as well as Damiano’s friend: Talk this thing out, whatever it is. We’ve all been watching you dance around each other, but one of you needs to have the guts to make a move. I know Damiano seems like a cocky know-it-all sometimes, but if you get down to it, he’s just as insecure and shy. So I think this is on you. Invite him over, order some room service, have a talk. If it goes poorly, you can always text me and I’ll come over. And help you finish the food.”

Victoria was glad to see Y/n let out a small giggle. Over the course of the whole tour, she had never seen her quite this stressed out. Sooner or later it would impact her job performance - just as it was starting to affect Damiano’s. She’d long noticed how distracted he was. It didn’t even matter whether Y/n was in the room or not, his thoughts constantly seemed to be spinning around the same thing. The same person, rather. At this point, it was in everyone’s best interest to get these two to talk it out. She trusted them to be sensible enough about it not to let it affect their work if it went wrong. At least not the way their mutual obsession with each other was doing now.

Y/n nodded.

“Thanks, Vic. What do I have to lose, right? I mean, a lot, technically, but you know. Thanks.”

Victoria watched as Y/n shot her one more worried look, before turning and getting back to her room. She made sure to shout after her just before the door closed.

“Tell me how it goes!”

***

“It’s going to be fine, it’s going to be fine, this is going to go my way, I’m going to say my part and it will all be fine,” Y/n mumbled to herself as she paced back and forth in her hotel room. Time and time again, she found herself checking her phone, needing to convince herself she had actually sent the message to Damiano, inviting him to her room for a conversation. He hadn’t replied, but the little blue check marks told her he had read it.

Okay, keep calm. You're going to have a conversation about this, like the adults that you are. You ask to clarify what you overheard and you'll stay calm, whatever his answer is. At the end of the day, this is work. And if you need to cry, you can do it once he's left. Easy.

A knock on the door interrupted her thought process. For a moment, she considered ignoring it. Pretending like she wasn’t there. But that wasn’t going to work, was it? Not forever, anyway.

“Y/n, you said you wanted to talk?” Damiano’s voice came from the other side of the door.

Time to face the music, I guess, Y/n thought to herself. With a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped to the side to let him in. Damiano hesitated for a second, as if contemplating how to greet her, but then simply smiled at her before stepping in. The nervous energy engulfed both of them immediately and she caught him looking around the room for a moment before deciding to take a seat at the foot of her bed. She couldn’t even think about sitting down. Instead, she was pacing the room like a caged animal.

“Um, so, I called you here for a meeting.” Y/n picked at her nails looking anywhere in the room that wasn’t at Damiano.

“A meeting? Y/n, really?” He chuckled. “If these meetings involve me visiting your hotel room, feel free to invite me over for them more often.”

“Damiano! I’m trying to be serious here!”

“Sorry, sorry, go ahead.” He waved at her to continue as he leaned back on the bed. He looked delectable, and Y/n had to actively tear her eyes away to focus on what she had meant to talk about with him.

“I overheard you and Vic talking at the second-hand shop. Something about you not wanting me around? Before I overthink this even more than I already have, I should probably ask you what that was about.” She stopped pacing and quickly looked at Damiano waiting for a reaction.

“Wait, you heard that?” He suddenly sat up again, urgency visible in his face. “Did you hear the whole thing or… only me saying that?”

“Only that apparently ‘I'm everywhere you look’ and you can’t seem to get rid of me.” She forced a scoff, although she would rather cry at the memory if she was being honest. “I know I shouldn’t have heard that conversation, but I did. And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. That's why I ran out of the shop.”

She watched as Damiano buried his head in his hands, making a sound that was something between a laugh and a groan. “Seems like you missed the important part.” A deep sigh rattled through his chest as he looked up at her. “What I said before that was that I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About kissing you. That’s why it’s so hard to see you everywhere, to have you around so much.” He slowly stood up, walking over to her in tentative movements. “It’s because I want to kiss you all the time.”

She took a step back, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Anything to protect herself, to keep up some sort of composure. Letting her guard down too early was the worst thing she felt she could do. An expression that was both alarmed and confused flashed across her face. “You - wait … no, that's not - hold on.” She squinted her eyes at him trying to figure out if there was any hint of deception in him. “You wouldn’t lie to me… would you?”

He stood in front of her now, eyes staring her down with nothing but honesty. “I like to joke around but not with things like these, okay? I would never put you in that position. But when we accidentally kissed in Amsterdam? I wish it hadn’t been accidental at all.” His hand was reaching out to her, softly touching her arm, as if to test the waters. To see if she would pull away.

She stayed quiet for what felt like an eternity. Yet, she didn’t move away from him this time. “I’m sorry... for how I acted at the hospital. I didn’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do with you most of the time it seems.” A small smile flickered on her lips, unable to keep it at bay. “I’m sorry, I’m… not all that good at being vulnerable. In case that hadn’t become obvious yet. But I agree, you know. Kissing you should be on purpose.”

“It’s fine, it was a rough day. Now that I know what you heard, even more so for you,” he smiled back at her. His hand was wandering up her arm now, softly resting on her shoulder, just inches away from the bare skin on her neck. She was sure she could feel his warmth there already. “We’ll figure it out together, yeah? Starting with an actual kiss? On purpose?”

She blinked at him, before looking down at his chest, slowly grabbing onto the collar of his shirt. Playing the fabric between her fingers, anything to keep her nervousness under control. “Yeah, that would be good. Gotta test it out, right?” She looked back up at him, a pink tint growing across her cheeks.

“Yeah, just a test,” he mumbled, coming closer still. His hand wandered further upwards, tingling along her bare skin, before softly grabbing her neck to pull her into him. He was moving slowly, almost tormentingly so, as his breath fanned her face, eyes wandering back and forth between her own and her mouth. Her heart was beating impossibly fast now. If he wasn’t going to do anything soon, she would collapse, she was sure of it.

“Just kiss me already.”

And then his lips were on hers, soft and gentle, but with a force behind it that let her know he meant it. It was nothing like the kiss in Amsterdam. This was a kiss with purpose, long-lived desire finally being realised, feeling poured into every move they made. If this was a test, they were passing it with flying colours. Everything felt simply right. His lips against hers, his hand tangling in her hair, her arms wrapping themselves around him. Any doubt whether this was the right thing to do, whether this was what she wanted, ceased to exist. She couldn’t tell how long they were standing there, kissing, exploring, enjoying each other, but when they finally parted, she found herself catching her breath. Silly smiles painted on both of their faces. She buried her face in his chest, almost a little embarrassed now.

“That went well,” she giggled, unlike she did in Amsterdam. This high was different.

Damiano’s hand pushed a strand of her hair back behind her ear, tender touch lasting on her face a little too long, but she wouldn’t complain. He quickly pressed another needy kiss against her lips, before pulling her to sit on the bed with him. “So, now what? Not that I wasn’t enjoying that, but we should probably talk about where we’re gonna go from here.”

She nodded. “Well, work comes first. Not that I wasn’t having fun either. But, both of us know that the most important thing is you performing the best you can. I guess we go with your plan. Figure it out together. I don’t want to force anything.” Always trying to ground herself back into reality - it was the way she was built. A moment of insanity, yes, but never more. “Though, on days off… if you...” Her mouth opened but no more words came.

“I like the sound of that,” Damiano grinned, seemingly unable to stop himself from stealing another kiss from her lips. “And on days off...? Say it, Y/n, no need for shyness here.”

“Ah!” Grabbing a pillow off the bed, she smacked him playfully. “I was trying to have a semi-serious conversation here, Dami!” Her face screwed into a pout, before transforming into a teasing smile. “If you’re gonna be like that, you won’t hear my idea at all.”

He immediately let go of her, hands in the air in surrender. “Fine, woman, no more teasing from me… for now.”

She leaned in closer. “Is that a threat? Or a promise? I was gonna say we could go out on a date. But,” she shrugged, “up to you.” Standing up she walked over to the phone on the desk, picking up the room service menu with her other hand. “Do you want anything? If we are gonna figure this out, we might as well have food.” It was no secret that she was trying to create space between the two of them. A little distance, a little chance to breathe, too afraid of a fire being set ablaze if they stayed any closer.

“Whatever pizza they have, please. It won’t quite be like home but even bad pizza is still pizza.” He watched as she picked up the phone, quickly muttering some words he didn’t understand down the line. “And then come back here. We should probably talk some more.”

She nodded, quickly finishing the conversation on the line, before sitting back down on the bed next to him, backs resting against the headboard. “Alright, so, talk about what? I know there are things to discuss but, what are you thinking right now?”

“How do you want to go on about this?” He asked, taking her hand and playing with it absentmindedly. “Do you want to tell the others anything?”

“We have to tell Vic, probably. She’ll never get off our case otherwise. Apart from that... I assumed that we would sort of make up for lost time. Be a bit more open, affection-wise. Or at least not feel like we have to hide it when I wanna kiss you. I don’t want to say we are dating. I don’t want to put a label on something that's this new. Rushing into something like this is just a recipe for hurt.” She found herself staring into the distance for a moment, thoughts running away with her, before turning back to him. “Do you want to tell people? I mean if you did that would be fine. I’d manage, you know.”

“No, actually. I’m quite fine with as few people knowing as possible. I just… There’s no need to get everyone involved in something that we’re literally still figuring out ourselves, right? And I definitely don’t need the fans to know. At least not yet. If that’s okay with you?”

“Dami, you do know that, if this becomes a long-term thing... They will hate me. It won’t be just your fans either. Management, event organisers, they won’t want me there, people will tell you to break up with me all the time. There will be a lot of rude comments. People will edit me out of pictures. Because that's how it is. Are you sure you’re okay with all that? This won’t be easy and I wouldn’t want to stand in the way of your success. The band's success.” She wasn’t making eye contact now, nervously picking at her nails instead. This was his chance to step back, to change his mind, and she was more afraid of it than she let on.

“Well, first of all, they can all fuck off, okay? No one gets to talk about you like that, not in front of me. If they don’t see you the way that I see you - or at least respect it-, they’re no real fans anyway.” He reached out, softly holding onto her chin and turning her face towards him. “I don’t care about anyone but you in this, okay? If anything, you’re the one pushing me to go farther, work harder, be better. Yeah?”

“I didn’t know you felt that way.” Her hand went to the one holding her face, kissing his palm and then pressing it into her cheek. “I mean it though. It will be hard and confusing, and I am not that good at communicating my feelings. You could have anyone in the world and you picked me which I will never understand, but I’m thankful for it. Both of us are workaholics. It won’t just be you having a busy schedule. Are you absolutely positive? Because if not...”

Taking her face into both of his hands now, he made sure she was looking at him. “I am more than positive. I want this, I want you, I want it all. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes for you to believe that.” He pressed another kiss to her lips, warm and inviting, and she was sure she could feel every single one of his emotions in it. There was nothing but love. Coming up for air, they let their foreheads meet, a moment of unspoken agreement.

“We will do it together, yeah?” She whispered as she pressed a kiss onto his lips once again before her face broke out in a grin. “Fuckin hell… Sorry, I just realized that we can kiss and hug and everything all the time now and without it being weird.” Grabbing his hand and interlacing their fingers, she rested her head on his shoulder. Both of them simply content in the silence of the room and the company of each other. After a while, Y/n looked up at him again. “Do you have any concerns though?”

“No real worries. Just... I don’t know. I just want to stare at you for a bit. Do you even know how crazy you make me? Throughout this whole tour I have been losing my mind!” His eyes flickered over her face, down her body, and back up. He kissed the top of her head. “Y/n you have no clue what you do to me. You remember when you body checked that guy into the wall in Germany?” She nodded as he lowered his head to whisper in her ear. “Cold showers did nothing for me that night.”

Giggles rattled her chest as she hid her face in her hand, feeling a slight blush coming on.

“Hey, no hiding that face from me!” Grabbing at her hands, he tried to pull them back down, but she resisted through her laughter. Desperately trying to pry her hands away, Damiano pinned her down onto the bed, back flush against the mattress, but he still wasn’t succeeding. In a last-ditch effort, he straddled her ample hips. The surprise of it all had her removing her hands on her own immediately, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Now, was that so hard?”

In one quick move, she locked her knees under his and flipped him over, making her sit on top of him. His body thudded into the mattress, jaw dropping, and a little hint of a blush appearing out of nowhere.

“Sorry love, won’t happen again,” she grinned, sending him another wink, before getting off of the stunned singer.

Y/n jumped up off the bed and started to rummage through the mini-fridge. Behind her, she heard the unmistakable sound of Damiano’s phone vibrating. And again. And again.

“What’s going on with that thing?” She asked over her shoulder, unable to hide a grin. Damiano sighed heavily, reading through the messages that seemed to keep coming.

“It’s Vic.”

“What’s she saying?”

Another buzzing sound interrupted them.

“Asking if we’re making out yet. Letting us know that she can hear us laughing. Wanting to know if we’ve fucked yet. Complaining that I’m not answering her messages.”

Damiano’s speech was, in turn, interrupted by Y/n’s phone letting out a similar buzzing noise. With a frown on her face, she gathered it from the nightstand, only to erupt into giggles at the message displayed on her screen.

“What’s so funny?”

“Vic has written, and I quote: ‘As happy as I am that this seems to be going well, I was actually looking forward to indulging in room-service food with you’ with a lot of frowny emojis added.”

Forming a fist with his hand, Damiano roughly hit the wall behind him - the one he knew connected the room to Victoria’s.

“Go get your own room service!” He shouted, and the laughter on the other side, paired with a flurry of emojis reaching both of their phones shortly after let them know she had heard.

“Oh stop it, whatever will you do without a bassist if she starves!” Y/n laughed. “Wait, how’s this.” Y/n coughed, preparing to change her voice into the best impression of Victoria she could muster. “Dami, you bastardo! Give me food!”

A knock on the door - much too polite to be Victoria’s - caught their attention, and Y/n scrambled to open it. A little wagon full of silver plates adorned with various meals greeted her. Not even caring about the confused look on the waiter’s face, she made quick work of grabbing most of what was on the tray and carrying it over to the desk, until only a few things were left.

“Would you mind bringing the rest to the woman next door? Thank you very much.”

As soon as she had closed the door behind her, she caught Damiano’s gaze, wide smile on his face.

“Whatever it takes to make Vic happy, hm?”

Y/n grinned. “Whatever it takes to get Vic to leave us alone.”

***

Y/n had no idea where she was when she woke up the next morning. It only lasted for a moment though - until it all came crashing down on her, the talk with Damiano, the kisses they'd shared, how they had spent the rest of the evening watching trash tv and stuffing themselves with food, until he had left for his own room, placing one last lingering kiss on her lips. She couldn't contain a smile at the memories. For a minute, she allowed herself to lay in bed, reminiscing about the way his mouth felt on hers and how she was now allowed to do that all the time. But work called, and the usual routine caught up with her. Getting ready for the day, re-checking the busy plan for the day, waking up the band. It was only in front of Damiano's room that she faltered a bit, before shaking it off and entering.

Damiano looked peaceful, fast asleep, the blanket only coming up to his waist. With quiet footsteps, she walked over to the bed, taking the view in for as long as she allowed herself. Her usual wake-up tricks would include pulling back curtains, gently talking, stealing blankets, a little shake if necessary. But the turn of their relationship was now providing her with new possibilities. Leaning down, she blew a bit of air against his cheek, watching as his eyelids fluttered but not quite opened yet. A little kiss followed on his cheek, just barely touching his skin. Then a kiss on his inviting lips. She almost pulled back, when a strong hand held onto the back of her head, Damiano suddenly wide awake and kissing her back.

"I could get used to these wake-up calls."

“Well, be a good boy and get dressed and you might be getting them more often,” she grinned, already halfway out the door. She knew if she didn’t leave now she probably wouldn’t for a while, and they did not have time for any delays.

“That better be a promise!” Damiano shouted after her, and she giggled, all the way back to her room, never having looked forward to a day of work quite this much.

***

The day was one of their most hectic ones yet, jumping between the hotel, the venue for soundcheck, dinner, a radio station, and back to the venue. Yet, for once, Damiano didn’t mind in the slightest. Not with the way he was now allowed to stare at Y/n all the time. No more worries about having to hide it, no more being afraid of being caught in the way his eyes kept lingering on her whenever she was nearby. Never mind the fact that he enjoyed teasing her.

He was well aware of how important her professionalism was for her, and he’d be the last person to slack off work because he was smitten. But, in the little moments in between, the waiting to go on air, the walking along a hallway, the little breaks and breathers, he simply couldn’t help himself. Especially not with the way she kept blushing and scolding him.

It was the small things. Brushing past her when he walked by. Letting his hand rest on her waist a little too long, always threatening to move lower, but never making the jump. Winking at her with the meanest smirk when the radio host asked a particularly spicy question. Texting her with the suggestion to unbutton her blouse just slightly more to keep him motivated. The latter was met with a stern look and her hands buttoning up the blouse a little more instead. Yet, throughout the day Y/n seemed to be more relaxed, while keeping up the impression of ‘everything is normal’. Well, she did the best she could when Damiano wasn’t giving her a hard time.

Victoria seemed to think it was the funniest thing in the world, constantly watching the two of them and snickering to herself. When Damiano told her to mind her own business - just for once - she only became more curious. Ethan and Thomas hadn’t caught on yet. Well, Thomas definitely hadn’t. Ethan had looked at Damiano a little strangely, eyebrows raised in question, when the singer had stared at Y/n a little too long, trying to catch her attention, but he hadn’t mentioned it.

Now it was less than an hour until showtime, everyone gathered backstage, and Damiano couldn’t remember the last time he had been quite this excited to play. London being their biggest gig on this tour certainly played a part, but the butterflies in his stomach every time he laid eyes on Y/n surely did the rest.

The dressing room was a mess, clothes everywhere, stylists and make-up artists scrambling to get their work done in time, which was proven increasingly difficult as Victoria and Thomas kept starting tickle fights. Damiano was sure the crew was ready to murder them at this point. Still waiting for his own turn to get dressed up, he let his gaze wander over to Y/n, who was sitting with Ethan, the drummer patiently painting her nails black.

“There,” he concluded. “You’re becoming more like us every single day.”

Damiano watched as she held up her hands, admiring the way the colour contrasted with her skin. Walking over to her, he let his hands rest on her shoulders as he stood behind her.

“And you’re barely even flinching anymore when one of us gets naked,” he grinned, shooting a glance at Victoria, who was running away from Thomas in a shirt and panties only. He bent down to whisper in her ear. “Unless that one of us is me, I hope.”

The smack on his arm landed harder than expected, Y/n once again a blushing mess, but Damiano couldn’t help but laugh. As long as he still had that kind of hold over her, he’d gladly make use of it.

***

Y/n took her usual seat, sending smiles to the crew and band as they readied up for the show. The crowd outside was deafening already, volume only increasing when the lights were slowly starting to dim. One by one, the band members came up to her, ready to get a last wish of good luck, but Damiano made quick work of shoving them away, giggling as he reached her first. Without a word of warning, he grabbed her head, planting a deft kiss on her lips, before letting go of her with the biggest grin on his face. Her eyes closed as soon as she felt his lips on hers, an involuntary reaction to the feeling of having him close.

“Are all of us gonna get some good-luck kisses like that now?” Victoria giggled from behind them, and Y/n couldn’t help landing yet another smack on Damiano’s arm that day.

“Nope,” he replied. “Singer privileges.”

With the proudest smile on his face he finally bounced on stage. The others quickly followed and Y/n was left in her seat, shaking her head. That man was going to be the death of her, she was sure of it. They hadn’t even gone official, and he was already clouding her mind every single second of the day. She watched him as he ran around on stage, energy higher yet than all of the other shows on that tour, thinking about how he never failed to amaze her, both as a performer and as a human being all in itself. She wasn’t quite sure what the future held for them, what the rest of this tour would bring them, but as she stared at him, she decided she was going to be fine with whatever it was. Despite her anxiety about the future, he would be there. As long as she could have a piece of him, a smile, a touch, a kiss, every now and then, she was going to be fine. Right? Watching him on stage was a blessing and a curse. She was so proud of him, of the band. As much as she loved them there still left a small voice of fear. How much was she willing to let them see? Let him see? The rest of the tour was still there, but she reminded herself of what he had told her the day before in her hotel room. They would figure it out together.

***

Taglist | @damianodavide @lizstans @unitersmoonshine @its-afucking-mess @ethaneskin @dont-let-me-drown-in-you@vampirtet @lividisuigomiti @juststalking @tabi-toast @ethan-torchio-angelo @thewitchinthemountain @ethanesimp @sofckinelectric @daddydamiano @finelinejpm @rainbowmarta @rocketqueen @aleksanderwh0r3 @damianodavidhands @megann-duff @teatrodellavita @coven-daddy @till-you-scream-and-cry @fanfictionandfluff @slave4yourlove @geklutst-ei @bookish0918 @mehrmonga @kanevill @butterfly-skinnylegend @lidiyabest @killerqueen1985 @ccweasley @messyhairday-me @bidet-and-legolas @maybanksslut @katyldamusic @navs-bhat @etaerealboyv @tryymebitch @fenhakwe @solacestyles @softforlukescurls @vicsangel @theimpossiblehologramtree @alina-exe @cherricola66 @onlykissystyless @dannasixxworld

[xnever-fade-awayx]

kerry/v

"you know I'll do anything you ask me to"-prompt (sofia by clairo)

just an idea, no pressure^^

AN: Quick note, this is unedited, also this is with default Male V! Enjoy~ 

V groaned as he rubbed at his eyes and slowly opened them. His head was pounding and he felt like he was hit by a truck. He tried to piece together the night before but all he can remember  is Kerry fucking him senseless into the mattress. Which he did enjoy. As V sat up in the bed, he glanced to his side to see Kerry passed out on his stomach, completely naked. 

V got out of bed quickly and he began searching for his clothes to at least put something on. He wasn’t trying to leave before Kerry left per say, he was just trying to make sure he was covered from the paparazzi this time. They ended up using a drone that went undetected by Kerry’s security last time to take pictures of both men completely naked, asses all out. 

The paparazzi called V Kerry’s “current JoyToy” which pissed him off more than it should have. Maybe it was because he was developing feelings for Kerry and wanted to be more than fuck buddies. V shook his head at the thought and ignored it as he threw his jeans on and made his way down to Kerry’s kitchen to try to find some food, some real food. 

V managed to find some bread that wasn’t molding, at least from what he saw, and ate a few slices of that before he was going to dip. He heard the groans of Kerry echoing through the large villa as he woke up, walking down the stairs, still completely naked. 

“Mornin’.” Kerry mumbled out gruffly as he went to the table that had all types of food and began to pick at the stuff on it. 

“Morning. I don’t think it’s safe to eat any of that.” V said as Kerry turned and shot him a small glare. “And I think you should put some pants on before the paparazzi caught you, again.” V tried to tell Kerry as he threw another grape into his mouth. 

“Fuck ‘em. Won’t be the first or last time they’ve seen my gorgeous ass.” Kerry laughed as he walked over to V and looked him over. 

“I was just heading out. Gotta see Vik for a tune up.” V heard Kerry hum in response to what he said. 

“You comin’ tonight? Playing another show tonight with the girls.” Kerry said as he walked over to V and looked into his eyes. V shrugged and placed his hands on Kerry’s hips and pulled him close. Kerry chuckled and moved his arms to wrap loosely around V’s neck. 

“I’ll try to drop by. I think I’m gonna check up on Wakako to see if she has something for me today. Need a few extra eddies for rent this month.” V admitted which caused Kerry to frown at the taller man. 

“You know I can send you some money. You can always ask.” Kerry tried telling his friend as V pulled away and began walking towards the door. 

“It’s fine, Ker. I can make my own money. You don’t gotta act like my sugar daddy. Now, I gotta get going. Vik’s gonna be pissed if I’m late.” V said as he opened the front door and was followed by V. 

“Seven tonight if you come by! Talk to Tasha and she’ll get you backstage!” Kerry shouted as he watched V walking down towards his car. 

“Put on some god damn pants!”

                             « ----------------------------------------------- » 

 Vik had done his check up on V as normal, giving him an upgrade or two but was happy that V wasn’t pushing himself too far. Wakako was happy to see V had assigned him a job that shouldn’t take too long. She had him go to a Tyger Claw hideout and find a person, making sure they were unharmed and alive. There was a shootout, which V tried to avoid, but it was okay. The person he was transporting wasn’t hurt which was a plus but V was a mess and covered in blood. 

Wakako thanked V for the person and quickly transferred the money to V before he drove home to shower and change. His entire shower he thought about Kerry, and about them. He had fallen for the rockerboy about the second time they fucked. It was just a casual friends with benefits thing that would happen once every few weeks then turned into almost everyday. Every concert in the city, V would show up, drink too much with Kerry and then they would end up at his place. 

V wanted to change it and he decided tonight was the night before Kerry and Us Cracks left Night City for their tour across the world. He shut the water off in the shower and quickly dried off before throwing on some jeans and a random shirt, which happened to be one of Kerry’s shirts he stole. Funny story behind the shirt: Kerry was trying to rush V out since Johnny was coming over and Kerry didn’t want Johnny knowing V and him were fucking. So, V grabbed the first shirt he saw and threw it on as Kerry kicked him out. 

V double checked to make sure he had everything before leaving his apartment and heading to get to his car. The entire drive to the venue, V thought of what to say to Kerry and honestly, how the fuck does someone say, ‘hey I love you’ without making it weird or awkward? V shook his head at the thought and said he was just going to do it, fuck it. 

He parked on the side of the building, weaving between the fans trying to get backstage and smiled at Tasha. She had learned who V was quickly and smiled at him and allowed him in. She was telling him how he could chill backstage or on the side during the concert before leading him towards where Kerry was. The moment V spotted Kerry, his heart dropped. He was standing extremely close to another guy, smiling at him and giving him those fuck me eyes he always gave V. 

“Oh, hey V! Glad to see you!” Red Menace smiled at the man and hugged him tightly. Over the last few months, he got close to Us Cracks just like Kerry did. Kerry turned towards the two and smiled as he walked over to V. 

“Decided to show up, I see. Well, I’ll have to give you a special thank you after the show.” Kerry smirked as he made his way to V and closed the gap between them. 

“I don’t know if I’m staying. I, uh, have things I need to do.” V avoided eye contact with Kerry. He picked up the change in V almost instantly as he started walking.

“Let’s go somewhere private, V. Just chat a bit before the show.” Kerry said as he walked towards what was currently his little dressing room. V didn’t want to follow him but did it anyway, so he didn’t anger him. Once the two were in the room, Kerry closed the door behind him and locked it. V stood in the middle of the room as Kerry went to lean against a counter where all the mirrors were.

“Why did you bring me in here?” V finally asked as Kerry turned and looked over the other male.

“What the hell is going on, V?” Kerry asked, his arms crossed over his chest. V just watched Kerry as he sighed out. It was now or never.

“Look, Ker… I-we… well, you know how last week we were in that magazine? And they called me a Joy Toy?” V asked as Kerry nodded.

“Yeah. Those mother fuckers got a bad picture of me!” Kerry said, slightly angry as V shot a glare at him.

“Not the point, Ker. I don’t wanna be known as a Joy Toy, okay? I don’t want to be known as your latest fling or your fuck buddy. I wanna be known as… as…” V couldn’t seem to say it outloud. He felt stupid and embarassed. 

“As.. my boyfriend?” Kerry finished the sentence. V felt embarassed as fuck at that. Kerry walked over to V and grabbed his face in his hands. “You know, V, I’ll do anything you ask me to. And if that is to be your boyfriend, then I’m fine with that.” Kerry said as he pressed his lips harshly against V’s lip. V melted into the kiss before Kerry slowly pulled away.

“I’ve wanted that for a while…” V whispered, causing the rockerboy to chuckle.

“I was waitin’ for you to say something. If this was just meaningless sex, then I was fine with it. I was hopin’ it would turn into something more.” Kerry said before leaning in and placing another kiss to V’s lips.

“So, does this mean Kerry Eruodyne is no longer going to be a slut? No more man whoring?” V teased which rewarded him a quick slap to the chest.

“Shut the fuck up or else I might take back talkin’ about being your boyfriend.” Kerry glared at V as the other male rolled his eyes.

“Mr Eurodyne? Concert starts in 2 minutes.” A voice called from the other side of the door. Kerry and V both looked at the door before looking at each other.

“Stayin’ to watch?” Kerry said as the two walked out of the door. Kerry followed behind V as they began walking towards the stage.

“Of course. For my boyfriend? Anything.” V said as they got to the side of the stage. Kerry smiled and placed a small kiss to V’s cheek.

“I promise after we will go get dinner, something nice, then back to my place.” Kerry said as he got himself pumped for the show.

“Don’t hurt yourself up there. Gonna need you all good and in one piece later.” V teases as Kerry and him share a rough kiss before Kerry rushed up to the stage to start the concert.

[tirednotflirting]

i want your midnights

i listened to new year’s day 26 times very early yesterday morning and then had an idea and then my 2021 started w some jalex. a strong start i would say.

this one is for miss bella (aka @clumsyclifford​). she was one of the brightest parts of a somewhat dark year and i’m so crazy wild thankful to have her sweet soul in my world. she shares so much love and warmth in this space and she inspires me endlessly. she also made me a four hour long atl playlist in sept for my quarter life crisis drive back to my hometown and here we are now. 

she also reminded me that i needed to post this here and not just on ao3 lol. bella, my love, sending you so so so much love and peace x

here this is btw on ao3 if that’s more your jam

“Any idea how we’re supposed to get down from here though?”

“Look, even if someone moved the stool below the door, we can just get Zack to catch us. Trust me, Alex. I thought this all through.”

Alex laughs gently while rolling his eyes at Jack’s confidence in his plan. Though he can’t say that the effort Jack has put into this little adventure doesn’t warm his cheeks despite how cold the Chicago night time breeze is. Especially from where they sit on top of the bus.

It had been about ten minutes until midnight when Jack pulled Alex away from the party happening on one of the other buses. 

“Surprise adventure time.” Jack had whispered against his ear before tilting his head to press a kiss against Alex’s tattoo. Alex quickly excused himself from the conversation he had been somewhere in the middle of before allowing himself to get dragged toward the front steps.

“Jack, neither of us are in a state to be going anywhere right now.” Alex had said while half jogging to keep up with him. Jack only laughed and tightened the grip he had on Alex’s hand as he led them to the door of their bus.

“Good thing we’re only headed to the bus then, huh?”

Once he had seen Jack grab for a bottle of champagne and a blanket before using a step stool to reach up for the door that opened up onto the roof of the bus, Alex only laughed. “Aren’t we getting a little bit too old for this?”

Jack pulled himself up before sticking his head back inside to throw a look at Alex’s questioning gaze. “Alex, we took shots of Fireball tonight. We legally cannot be too old for anything if we can still stomach that.”

“Fine, fine. I’m coming.”

It’s just after midnight now. Their foreheads are still pressed together after parting from a very wind-chilled midnight kiss. Alex is almost worried the smile spread across his chapped lips might get frozen in place, he’s so damn happy right now. He can just barely make out Jack’s features as he opens his eyes. The glitter someone had painted across Jack’s eyelids sparkles under the parking lot lights and it’s cold enough that he can see the breath puffing from Jack’s parted lips.

Alex shifts some in Jack’s hold so he can more comfortably press his palms against his cheeks, a soft laugh leaving his mouth when Jack hums at the feeling before moving to hold his hands over Alex’s. “Thank you for being so warm. Very helpful.”

“Gotta keep you around for something, right?” Alex jokes as he sits up. He presses another quick kiss against Jack’s forehead before moving his hands to lift the hood of Jack’s hoodie up to cover his head. 

“Oh yeah that’s definitely it.” Jack scoffs as he turns to throw his legs over Alex’s lap and adjust the blanket pulled over their laps. He drops his head to rest against Alex’s shoulder and reaches for his hand to tangle their fingers together. “God, we used to come up here all the time. Why did we stop doing this?”

“Pretty sure it had something to do with the several times one of us nearly fell off and then we got that talk about proper bus safety.” Alex says.

“Proper bus safety sounds like it eliminates a great deal of proper bus fun, honestly.” Jack replies.

“Agreed, we should be doing this more often. It’s a good view.”

Alex’s mind is in a battle between what’s in front of his eyes right now and the memories flashing through his head as he lifts his free hand to tap out a pattern against Jack’s knee. Right now, as he looks out over the city, he can see fireworks shooting up into the sky in all directions. He’s always loved fireworks. Alex has spent so many years on the road in big cities for New Year’s Eve and watching fireworks burst over his head almost makes him forget that he can’t see the stars not visible in the light polluted skies. The explosion of colors and lights and the joy in Jack’s eyes has always been a special kind of beautiful. It’s a view he’s getting a new edition of right now and one he knows he’ll never grow tired of seeing.

But in the back of his mind he sees two boys in all seasons of the year, their lanky legs dangling from the edge of the roof of the bus, their hands still clasped together, their laughter loud and bright. He remembers everything feeling so big then, how they used to climb up here just to see what it felt like to see the world they were creating with these lyrics and music from up above. He thinks back fondly on the nights they would park somewhere in the middle of nowhere so the driver could rest and how Alex would poke at Jack’s cheek until he woke up to drag him up to the roof. They would cuddle up under blankets like they have now so he could tell Jack all about whatever was going on up in the night sky over New Mexico or wherever it was they were that night. 

Jack squeezes his hand and then he’s back to the present, to a brand new year and the cold Chicago wind and the boy he’s loved for so so many years still pressed up against him after all this time. Alex sighs and lifts their intertwined hands to press his lips against Jack’s knuckles.

“Happy New Year, my love,” he says while letting his lips brush against Jack’s skin as he speaks. “Glad I get to start another year with you. Looking forward to all the rest of them too.”

“Love you too, Al,” Jack says back, knowing that Alex is always mixing the sentiment into every word that leaves his mouth. “I think this is gonna be a good one for us.”

And regardless of how the predictability in their lives seems to always be dwindling, Alex can’t help but agree. Like fireworks on New Year’s and stars somewhere beyond the light from the skyline, Jack is a forever constant in Alex’s world.

He’s not sure how long they stay up there, watching the fireworks light up the sky and holding each other. All Alex remembers is getting lost in the lights and the love clouding up his mind and eventually being helped down onto the tour bus floor (by Zack he’s sure given that neither of them fell) and shuffling his way into his bunk with a gentle hand against his back guiding the way.

(Alex is seconds away from sleep when he feels his phone buzz inside the pocket of his sweats. He pulls it out and squints at the light from the screen, angling it some so as to not wake Jack who managed to pass out the second his head hit the pillow and his arm wrapped around Alex’s waist. It’s a text from Rian. It’s a picture of them he must have snapped from the ground right as midnight struck. Alex smiles as he saves the image, glad it was captured physically in case his memory starts failing him one day. The accompanying message only reads you crazy kids, don’t ever change. 

And as Alex smiles at the feeling of Jack wrapping his arm more securely around his waist, he can’t help but hope that they never do.)

*

[terreisa]

Love Down the Line: Chapter 9

The last thing Indie musician Emma Swan needs is a gigantic wrench thrown in the workings of her biggest tour to date weeks before its launch.  When her backing guitarist that caused the problem says she has the perfect solution Emma is skeptical but left with little choice but to accept.  Unfortunately she isn’t really prepared for said solution to be former Rock Star and leading man of Emma’s teenage fantasies, Killian Jones.  With no other options and a month of performing across the country ahead of her Emma just hopes she doesn’t come to regret letting Killian onto her stage and into her life.

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, AO3

~*CS*~

Los Angeles, May 24th

“-and there’s a bit of a backup on the 405 just south of the 10 due to a two car accident in the southbound lanes.  That’s the morning traffic report brought to you by your local Southern California Honda dealer.  This is Treena in the morn’ and I got some Yaz on the way along with Echo and the Bunnymen and Talking Heads after this-”

“A clock radio?” Emma mumbled into the pillow, “Really?  What are you, like, three hundred?”

Killian’s chuckle stirred the hair at the back of her neck, “Try thirty-five, love.”

“So you say,” she groused as he reached over her to turn off the alarm.  She blinked up at him as he set his hands on either side of her shoulders, looming over her with a smile, “I bet you still have a landline, old man.”

“And a rather impressive laserdisc collection,” he said with a wink.

“You would.”

He laughed, a bright joyous thing that had her smile stretching from ear to ear.  It was the last of the three days of no shows that they had while in LA and the second morning she’d woken in the bed of Killian’s house in Malibu.  Since their first night together in Denver they hadn’t slept apart, much to Tink’s delight and Will’s annoyance.  When they’d arrived in LA Emma had been surprised and pleased to discover that Killian had a house there where no one would disturb them as long as they kept their phones on silent.  Unfortunately it hadn’t really been an option as her suddenly vibrating phone reminded her.

“What time is Regina sending the car?” Killian asked as he dipped his head and started trailing kisses down her throat.

She hummed in pleasure, blindly swiping at her phone to dismiss the call, “Nine.  We’re having brunch with people from the label to talk about the next album and then it’s interviews for the rest of the afternoon.”

“And after all that we’ll rendezvous back here for dinner and a bit of Netflix and chill,” he murmured into her collarbone before dragging his tongue across it.

“You go-” her breath hitched as his hand travelled up her thigh, “going somewhere?”

He paused his ministrations, much to her frustration, and said somberly, “Aye, Robin still lives out here with his son.  I haven’t been in town for… well, quite a while and I’m long overdue for a visit.”

The delicious tension she’d been feeling mellowed into something warm and soothing at his earnestness.  Ever since they’d landed he’d waxed nostalgic about all the things he’d used to do in the city, places he’d eaten that he wasn’t sure were still around, venues he’d played, museums he’d spent hours getting lost in and all the interesting people he’d met in that time.  What he hadn’t mentioned once was his former bandmate and friend.  In the bright morning light streaming through the wall of windows she could see that for some reason he was nervous about seeing him again.

“You guys talk all the time,” she reminded him, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair and cupping his cheek, “I interrupted one of your FaceTime dates just a couple of days ago.”

Killian chuckled, “Aye, and don’t think I haven’t received more than my fair share of nosey texts about that since.”

She blushed, forgetting that when she’d done the interrupting she’d been wearing one of his shirts and not much else.

“Seeing as Robin has come to Boston several times in the years that I’ve been there it’s only fitting that he gets to monopolize some of my time while I’m here,” he said, one shoulder lifting higher than the other in a half shrug. “I’ll be home by the time you’re done with your interviews.”

“You don’t have to rush back just for me,” she said quickly, guilt already pulling at her, “Just text me when your male bonding time is over.”

“We’ll deal with the logistics later, love,” he murmured, turning his head slightly to press a kiss to her palm, “For now I’d like to pick up where we left off before-”

Emma sighed in disappointment as her phone began to vibrate again.  Knowing that Regina was the only one who would not only call but do so before nine a.m. no matter the time zone she couldn’t ignore it.  She’d made the mistake of doing it before a show in Arizona once and had sworn Regina would have pushed her into the Grand Canyon if she’d been given the opportunity.

Gently nudging Killian off of her with an apology she sat up and grabbed her phone.  Killian sat up behind her, pushing her hair to one side as he nuzzled into her neck.  Giggling but in no way discouraging him she swiped up to answer.

Regina started talking the second the call connected, “The car will be there in thirty minutes to take you straight to the restaurant-”

“Wait, what?” Emma jerked away from Killian’s ministrations to look at the clock on the bedside table and saw it was only a little after seven. “I thought you said it’d be here at nine!”

“Plans have changed,” Regina said off-handedly. “The brunch meeting is now a breakfast meeting and I’ve pushed up one of your radio interviews to give you the time you’ll need for the streaming exclusives.”

“Exclusives?” She asked warily.

“Enchanted XM wants you to curate a ten song playlist and record intros for their Alt Rock station and then there will be an in-depth interview with one of their djs.  Snowdrops and Buttercups has been their number one request since its debut and is poised to take the number one spot on the chart next week.  It’s also been getting increasing play on their hits station.  We need to strike while the iron’s hot.”

Emma tipped her head back to stare at the ceiling as she counted to ten to keep her patience.  She was well aware that self promotion came with the territory, especially as a solo artist, and usually she had no problem giving interviews or whatever little fun extras needed to do so.  What she hated was that Regina tended to take liberties with her schedule whenever they were in a big enough city and there was extra down time.  It was all the more frustrating that Regina knew that things between her and Killian had shifted and apparently didn’t care about infringing on their time alone together.

“We’ll still be done by six right?” She asked, resigned, Killian’s warm hand gliding across her shoulders calming her much more than her counting had.

“Yes,” Regina huffed and Emma could practically hear her eyes rolling, “You and lover boy can have your romantic evening together and don’t think we won’t be discussing how to play whatever it is you two are doing to the press.”

“Really?” She growled.

“Really.”

Before Emma could even begin to shoot down that idea Regina had hung up, leaving her staring at the phone in her hand with disbelief and anger.  Even Killian’s gentle ministrations were no longer helping.

“I need to get ready,” she said mournfully, moving to stand from the bed.

Killian stopped her with a hand on her wrist, “Everything alright, love?”

“Yeah, everything’s great.  The meeting with the label got moved and there’s already a car on its way.  Which normally wouldn’t be a big deal but-” she shrugged, still angry but also starting to blush, “We were getting to the good stuff.”

“That we were,” he agreed with a salacious grin.  Then the grin faded and he narrowed his eyes at her, “Was there something else she said?  You seem upset over more than just an earlier meeting.”

Emma hesitated.  As much as she wanted to share her frustration with Regina dictating her life she couldn’t do so without bringing up the questions she’d successfully avoided since the morning after they’d first slept together.  First and foremost, was what they were doing just as important to him as it was to her and if it was, then what did that mean for them once the tour was over and they returned to their respective lives.  Chickening out she figured they could talk it over later, when there wasn’t a time constraint or a full day of interviews where she’d need to keep focused.

She shook her head and smiled, “Nothing you need to worry about.  Regina just has me getting some list of songs together for some streaming thing and I have no idea what I’m going to pick.  It takes me two hours to edit the playlists I already have, how the hell am I supposed to choose ten songs and then talk about them?”

“Simple, pick one of your playlists, put it on random and the first ten songs that play are the ones you choose,” he said easily. “You already know and enjoy those songs if you spent two hours picking them and there’s no pressure of trying to curate a perfect list from scratch.”

“That’s… actually a really good idea-” she beamed, grabbing her phone and bouncing up from the bed.  She spun around and gave what she hoped was a come hither look, “You know, I hear California is in a drought.  It’d be a shame to waste water by taking separate showers.”

His lips curled wickedly, “I’d say that I love the way your mind works, Swan.”

Taking his hand she led him into the bathroom and made good use of the less than twenty minutes they had before her car arrived.  Several hours later, however, she wished she had pushed back a little more against the schedule Regina had set up for her.  Of course she’d had no way of knowing that her too short morning with Killian was going to be the least stressful of her day.

Sitting in one of the green rooms at Enchanted XM between the recording session for her song picks and her interview she let her eyes slide shut.  It had already been a long day and it was nowhere near being over and done with.  The breakfast meeting had been good, the representatives from the label had been pleased that she had already written a few songs that she felt were strong contenders for the next album and they had easily agreed to giving her three months off after the tour to work on the rest.  Even Regina had been pleased with the meeting, if her short and not too unreasonable list of demands for moving forward were any indication.

The interview she’d done directly after had been the kind that she’d gotten used to over the years.  Questions that were more often than not the same ones others had asked her time and again.  She’d gotten good at making it sound like she was hearing them for the first time and varying her answers just enough so she didn’t sound like a robot.  The best part were the teasing texts from Killian waiting for her once she was done.  She was surprised and touched that he had taken the time out of his day to listen to her interview, especially since he knew how unexciting they could be.

As her day continued Regina had left her to make her way to the Enchanted XM studios on her own.  Once there she had immediately had to get to work ironing out her list of songs and recorded the intros with the program producer.  It had been more fun than she’d anticipated.  She’d already had her choices written down in one of her ever present notebooks, having listened to a randomized playlist in the car on her way to breakfast like Killian had suggested.  The first ten songs that had played had been perfect but she’d made one substitution to make sure that a Realm of Jewels song was one of her picks.  It was her thank you to Killian for giving her the idea in the first place and a not so subtle wink to whatever was going on between them.

The producer, a woman named Gwen, had been impressed with her choices.  They’d spent nearly an hour talking them over, working through a rough script of what she would say about each one.  Then she had been taken to a small recording booth where it had taken less than an hour to get what they needed.  She’d wanted to text Killian about it but Gwen had immediately invited her to lunch and she hadn’t had the chance.  Once they’d returned to Enchanted’s headquarters she’d been asked to record a few small promos for the stations that played her songs in heavy rotation.  Not willing to say no she’d been ushered to another recording booth with barely any time to take a breath.

Being left alone in the green room was a welcome break from what had become an increasingly busy day. Just as she was about to pull out her phone for the first time since after her first interview the door opened and Regina stormed in, angrily snapping at whoever the poor soul was that was still in the hallway.

“-not recording as scheduled and I want to know why a rider was requested when nothing that is on it is in this room.  There’s not even a bottle of water.  See that it gets taken care of.”

“Of course, Ms. Mills.”

The disembodied voice wavered slightly and Emma's earlier annoyance at Regina flared back up.

“The water that’s in here is fine,” she called out, leaning forward and catching the eye of the young woman in the hallway giving her an apologetic smile.  She turned pointedly to Regina and glared, “I don’t need anything else.”

“That’s not the point,” Regina sniffed, her dark eyes narrowing followed by the sound of retreating footsteps. “Certain expectations were to be met and they weren’t.  Just one more thing this company has failed at.  I have a mind to stop booking appearances here if they’ll just be treated like this.”

“Okay, this is about something more than water bottles and a missing box of Milk Duds.  What’s going on?” Emma asked suspiciously.

Regina pursed her lips as she took out her phone and began rapidly typing.  Emma waited patiently for her to answer, knowing better than to push if she wanted to keep her head on her shoulders.  With a final tap on her screen Regina focused back on her with a wary look that immediately had her on edge.

“You were supposed to do the on air interview with Graham Humbert but apparently due to an ‘unfortunate’-” Regina rolled her eyes, “scheduling conflict you have to do it with Walsh Hoakley instead.”

Emma groaned.  An interview with Graham would have been fun and easy.  They’d both gotten their start in the business around the same time, so he not only knew what types of questions she enjoyed answering but what her boundaries were when it came to her personal life.  Walsh, on the other hand, was the complete opposite.

Every interview she’d had with him had her sitting through bad jokes and his comparing her career against his own.  He had been the frontman of a pop punk group that had taken a break almost a decade before, though he insisted that it was only a matter of time before they would release another album.  It was bad enough she had to play nice as he gave her unsolicited advice but once the mics were turned off he tended to dial up his smarmy charm and invite her out for drinks or a meal.  She’d always firmly said no but he’d kept it up and after their last interview nearly two years earlier she’d told Regina that she preferred not to do any more with him.

“I thought he was with that big station in New York,” she said sullenly.

“Apparently not,” Regina sniffed.  Her eyes softened fractionally, “Do you want me to reschedule?”

“No,” she sighed, “We’re already here and I know we don’t have any time to come back while we’re still in LA.  Plus I don’t want rumors starting that I’m being difficult over Walsh Hoakley.  I don’t want to give him that honor.”

Regina smirked, “I’m sure he’d dine out on that for years.”

“He would.  So where’d you disappear to?” Emma asked, through talking about Walsh.

“I do have other clients that happen to conveniently live where their label’s offices and some of the best recording studios are,” Regina said drolly, perching herself delicately on a chair. “You might want to reexamine the benefits of moving out here after this tour is done.  You’re only going to get bigger from here on out.”

She hummed noncommittally.  For a few seconds she let herself daydream about moving into Killian’s beachfront house, waking up in his arms every morning before heading to the studio that would admittedly be leaps and bounds better than the one back in Maine.  She could almost see herself returning at the end of her day to find Killian preparing dinner in the kitchen or strumming his guitar on the balcony.  Before her thoughts went any further than that she stopped them in their tracks, forcing herself to remember all the reasons why she loved living in Storybrooke and to not let herself get wrapped up in a fantasy.  She didn’t let herself dwell on how her imaginings had given her the same feelings of home that her real memories of Storybrooke did.

Ten minutes and an increasingly impatient Regina later another assistant came to show them to the recording booth.  From behind the glass they watched as Walsh introduced the next group of songs that would be playing and teased her interview.  As soon as he switched off his mic she was ushered into the booth, shown which headphones and mic to use and then left alone with him.  To her great relief he smiled and shook her hand, seemingly not knowing that she had requested not to do interviews with him.  She smiled back, settling in the chair in front of the mic she’d been shown and adjusted everything to her liking.  As they waited for the queued songs to finish playing they made small talk about their day and the thankfully very few mutual acquaintances they had.

The interview started off well.  Walsh only mentioned his band Behind the Curtain twice and kept his advice to a minimum.  Emma found herself actually enjoying the questions he asked, responding with enthusiasm when he asked about living in Maine and her writing process.  She was so caught up in lightheartedly debating with him over notebooks versus a phone app to write lyrics that she was surprised when he mentioned that their time was drawing to a close.

“So, Emma, before you go, how has this tour been so far?  You’ve only got a few shows left right?”

“Yeah, just the last few cities heading north but it’s been really, really great,” she enthused, “This is the biggest tour I’ve ever done and the fans have been amazing in every city we’ve played.  I’m actually really looking forward to tomorrow night’s show since it’s where they have the Oscars.”

“Right, the Dolby theater, when we played it was still the Kodak and it’s a great venue.  Bigger than what you would think when you see it on tv,” Walsh said with a wink and a grin.

Emma fought against a cringe at his bad innuendo, glad that he hadn’t been like that through the whole interview.

“I haven’t had a chance to get in the space yet and, I know this is really nerdy or whatever, but I’m really excited to stand on the same stage that some of my favorite actors have been on.  I mean, some of my idols have played there and it’s always an honor to get to perform where they have too, but come on, tomorrow I could be standing in the exact spot where Meryl Streep or Tom Hanks or Oprah have stood.  Oprah!”

Walsh chuckled, “So you still get starstruck meeting other celebrities?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said with a nod. “I don’t even think of myself as a celebrity.  I live in the same town I mostly grew up in, all my friends are ones I’ve had since before I even thought about recording an album, I don’t even have ‘people’ or whatever.  I nearly had a heart attack seeing Lady Gaga from across the room at a benefit concert once.”

“So how was it when you met Killian Jones, famous guitarist for Realm of Jewels, before the start of your tour?”

She shot a glance to the window into the sound booth where Regina had been throughout the whole interview.  Regina barely looked up from her phone and nodded, twirling her hand in a gesture Emma took to mean keep going.  They had talked about what would happen when Killian was finally recognized but the longer they went without it happening the more she had convinced herself that they could get through the whole tour with no one the wiser.  It seemed their time was up.  Taking a deep breath to settle her racing heart she looked back at Walsh and found him watching her closely.

“I was surprised and a little annoyed actually,” she said with a small laugh. “Ruby, the guitarist I usually tour with, had broken her arm but said that she’d found her replacement for me.  The thing was she wouldn’t tell me who it was so I walked into the recording studio and Killian was there.  Realm of Jewels was one of my favorite bands, still is, so seeing him sitting there was a kinda surreal fangirl moment and intimidating too, knowing how good of a guitarist he is.”

“Rumors have been circulating on social media for a few weeks that it was Killian onstage for your tour and then earlier this afternoon uber-producer Robin Locksley seemed to confirm it-” Walsh pulled up a sheet of paper and began reading, “He said in an interview: ‘I’m very excited to begin working with Killian Jones on new music and other projects moving forward.  He’s been touring the past few weeks as a backing guitarist and he told me it’s been a great first step to getting back out there.  I was even fortunate enough to hear a few rough cuts of songs he’s already written for a new solo album and they’re amazing.  I really can’t wait.’  Since you’ve confirmed it yourself have you heard any of his new songs while on the road?  He’s already with your label and turns out he signed on with your manager Regina Mills back in March so will the rest of the tour be a double bill?  Maybe even a possibility of a duet in the future?”

Emma felt dazed, like she’d been hit with a pillow shot out of a cannon.  She had completely forgotten that Robin had become a music producer after Liam and Milah had died.  He’d even sent her an email after her last album had been released, saying he wanted to work with her at some point.  That little detail was nothing compared to the realization that Killian hadn’t mentioned that his lunch with Robin was really about business.  He hadn’t even hinted that he had whole songs written let alone recorded anything.  Worst of all was that he had signed on with Regina before he’d joined the tour and she knew without a doubt Regina would do anything necessary to further a client’s career.  Especially if the final outcome would prove advantageous for two clients at once.

“I, uh, haven’t listened to anything he’s recorded-”

Her phone buzzed at her elbow.  There were several notifications but the preview screen showed a text from Regina.  She opened it in a daze.

Regina: No double billing, play coy about duet, plug rest of tour, still seats in Vancouver

The fog she’d been in cleared away as white hot anger took its place.  She looked at Regina through the glass and found her making the same ‘continue on’ motion she had before.  There was no sign of an apology on her features, only impatience and  the ever present look of expectation that she perform well.  While acting wasn’t her forte she was more than ready to give the performance of a lifetime.

“Killian was only brought on temporarily until Ruby was well enough to play again.  Luckily her recovery happened to work out perfectly with us arriving in LA-” she knew she sounded too upbeat but pushed through, “I’m sorry to dash any hopes but Killian has decided to stay here and focus on his own music.  Ruby will be back for tomorrow night’s show and will be finishing out the tour.  We’re sold out for most of those shows but I think there’s still some tickets left for Vancouver, but not many.”

“So, no duet?” Walsh asked hopefully and Emma wasn’t sure if he meant musically or hinting at something between her and Killian.

“Nope,” she said decisively, her heart cracking as she did. “I’ll be taking some time off after this tour is done.  Rest and relaxation are the only duets I’ll be performing any time soon.”

Walsh laughed, “Now that’s a duo everyone loves.  Well, Emma, it’s been great talking to you.”

“You too,” she said with feigned pleasure.

“Here’s Emma’s latest single ‘Snowdrops and Buttercups’ which has been flying up the charts.  Safe to say you’ll be playing it tomorrow?”

“Yup.  It’s been fun to see the responses get more enthusiastic as it gets played on the radio more,” she said, finally feeling like she was being genuine.

“That’s always a great feeling,” Walsh said with a grin. “Alright, here it is ‘Snowdrops and Buttercups’. Thanks for stopping by, Emma.”

“Thanks for having me.”

As the first notes of her song filled the studio Emma ripped off the headphones, ignoring the constant buzz of her phone at her elbow.  She wasn’t sure who it was that was calling, she’d told everyone important to her about the interview and she knew they had probably all tuned in to listen.  With the way her pulse was pounding in her temples she wasn’t too sure she could keep herself from unfairly snapping at whoever it was and whatever questions they were going to have.

“Emma?”

She looked up at Walsh and by the way his grin faltered a bit she was sure that her anger was painted clear across her face.

“Yeah?”

“Er, I was wondering if you wanted to grab a drink?” He asked hesitantly. “Talk a little shop, maybe?”

“I already have plans,” she said shortly, the words tasting like the ashes of the evening she originally thought she’d be having.

“Coffee then? Or lunch?  I’m up for anything really,” He said with a wink and a chuckle.

“Look, I don’t know how much more clear I can make this but I’m not ‘up’ for doing anything with you,” she snapped, his annoying persistence the final straw. “I thought that you’d gotten better than the last time you tried this but apparently not.”

She snatched up her phone and turned to leave when she heard him scoff and mutter something under his breath.  She spun back to face him.

“Wanna share with the whole room?”

“Yeah, actually,” he said with a sneer that twisted his face into something vicious. “You act all high and mighty but you’re just a step away from falling into obscurity just like me.  That whole thing about Jones was given to me by your people and by tomorrow morning both your careers will be reaping the benefits from it.  I could have helped you along even further with the contacts I have in this business.”

Emma gaped at him, “By going out with you?  Classy, you sack of shit.”

Something flashed in Walsh’s eyes, “You-”

“Emma!  Let’s go, now.”

For half a second she was grateful that Regina had burst into the room, then she remembered why she was angry in the first place.  She brushed past her, ignoring her stream of hissing admonishments and the stuttered apologies of the producer.  Halfway back to the green room she realized her phone was still buzzing non-stop.  Her stomach lurched, not wanting to know if it was Killian calling when she was walking the thin line between yelling at him or breaking down in tears.  Steeling herself she finally looked at the screen and breathed a sigh of relief, swiping to answer.

“Ruby, pack your shit.  I need you in LA tonight.”

[adrenaline-roulette]

Jet Lag

So, in honour of my 22nd Birthday which was on April 30th. I decided to gift myself some cute Ben Hardy x Reader fluff. This was originally going to be Roger Taylor x Reader, but I was craving some Ben (I mean, who isn’t?)

@not-the-cleavers​  (Because girl, we all need a little bit of Ben in our lives right now)

Story is based off of the song, Jet Lag by Simple Plan.

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader (Female) with friend Joe Mazzello Warnings: Pretty much just pure fluff and cuteness, there is a bit of angst though but nothing major! Word count: 5953

Jet Lag

You collapse on your bed, sinking into the plush blankets, and massive pile of decorative pillows, it had been a long, and lonely week. It felt as if the standard five-day work week you had just endured, had been going on for at least a month. Though according to the red crosses on your calendar, it really was Friday the 1st, and not in fact Friday the 29th like it felt. The lonely part stemmed from the lack of company in your apartment over this past week, your boyfriend/ partner in crime, Ben Hardy was currently on a press tour with his castmates from 6 Underground, somewhere in Australia. While he had been away, your old school friend had come to stay while you had the house to yourself, but she had left for a business trip on Monday leaving you once again alone. You settle yourself more comfortably against your pillows, tilting your head back and to the side, keeping your eyes on your phone on your bedside table, just waiting for it to ring. Any minute now, you knew it would ring, and the anticipation of who would be calling had your heart racing.

The cool metal of Ben’s watch lay in your palm, and you clasped your fingers around the gold, circular face, rubbing your thumb gently against the glass. He hadn’t intentionally left his watch behind, but by the time either of you had realised that it was still in London, Ben was somewhere in Japan. Just as you go to glance down at the time, your phone buzzes to life, before vibrating along to your ringtone. It was a stupid song choice for a ringtone, though Ben had changed it for you just before he left, and you didn’t have the heart to change it. The song in question was that ridiculous, Doug Dimmadome – owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome remix that had been going around lately. Every time your phone rang, it nearly gave you a heart attack, as after each conversation on it, you attempted to erase the memory of your ringtone.

You dart your arm out quickly, grabbing your phone and swiping your finger along the screen to answer, a wide grin spreading over your lips, showing off all your teeth. “Hello…” You ask softly with a bated breath.

“Y/N? Hi luv.” Ben’s smooth voice sends chills down your spine, goose bumps appearing over your arms.

“What time is it where you are?”

“I’m in Sydney currently, and it is 9:15am. How about you?”

“6:15pm here, I just got home from work.”

“God, trying to figure out these time zones is making me crazy.”

“Hey, at least we’re doing better than at the beginning of the week. You were saying good morning, when it was midnight!”

“I just hate the thought of you alone. Five more days then I’ll be home.”

As if on cue, a floppy eared beagle pup leaps onto the bed with as much grace as if she were a hippo. Sniffing around your toes, before galloping up the mattress, and butting her nose against your knuckles, then phone. “I wouldn’t exactly say I’m alone. Frankie just joined me, I think she misses you too.”

You can hear Ben’s smile through the phone, and you grin softly yourself, scratching the fingers of your free hand against her head. “So tell me about Sydney, what’s it like there?”

Ben sighs deeply, likely a combination of still waking up, the desire for a smoke and coffee, and the desire to hold you. “It’s alright.  It’s really warm here, and the people are all nice. But it’s the same thing every day, we’re all a bit tired of it.” He pauses, and you can hear his bedsheets rustling as he gets into a more comfortable position. “Fuck, I don’t even wanna be in this town.” He grumbles.

“Sydney is a City…”

You know for a fact that he’s rolling his eyes on the other side of the world, you had known each other long enough to guess the other’s reactions without ever seeing them. “Oh yeah, thanks, go on and correct the guy running off five hours sleep!” He’s trying to sound stern, but there’s laughter peeking through his tired voice.

“Hey now, if I don’t correct you, then no one will!”

“I’m sure there’s at least one other person in the world who is game enough to pull me up on my mistakes.”

You raise an eyebrow, a smirk covering your lips as you watch Frankie toddle to Ben’s side of the bed. Circling three times, before curling into a ball. “Ben, you don’t exactly take constructive criticism well…”

Ben groans, and you’re half expecting him to argue, but it never comes. “Yeah, you’re right. Knowing my luck, I’d probably call Sydney a town in the interview, and never be invited back.”

“Nah, I’m sure they’d invite you back. It’d just be to make fun of you is all.” You shrug, grinning to yourself.

“Oi, be nice! You’re supposed to be supportive and caring.”

“Yeah yeah, you’re right. You know I love you.”

“Debatable.” Ben shuffles around again, and you can hear him stifle a yawn against his palm. “So what’s been going on in the world of you then?”

“Work, sleep, work. Nothing exciting really…. Actually, the most exciting thing to happen was on Monday last week.”

“Oh? What happened?”

“I was making dinner for me and Sophie while she was still here. I had just drained the spaghetti I had cooked, it was in the colander on the counter, and I turned around to finish the sauce. The next thing I know, there’s a massive thunk echoing through the apartment, I turned around, and Frankie has knocked down all the pasta, and is running off with spaghetti hanging out of her mouth!” You can barely contain your laughter, the memory of Frankie looking both guilty, yet extraordinarily proud of what she had just done seared into your brain. “She looked like one of those Ood’s from Doctor Who!”

Ben is howling on the other end of the line, the deep baritone of his laughter only causing you to laugh harder. “Yes! Good girl! Good Frankie! Dada loves you!” Frankie lifts her head, having heard her name being called from somewhere. You reach over and scratch her head again, making kissy faces at the cheeky beagle.

“You’re not supposed to encourage this sort of behaviour! You’re the reason why she still does this kind of thing. She thinks she can get away with it!”

“Of course she can get away with it! She deserves people food just as much as you do.”

“Ben! We had no more pasta! She took it all, and there was no more in the pantry to cook.” You whine, though you both know it’s all in jest. You could never truly be mad at Frankie. Despite the occasional theft of food, or shoes, she genuinely was a well-behaved pup.

“Aw come on, you know you’re not really mad at her.” You know for a fact that if Ben were here with you now, he would be pinning you with his best set of puppy dog eyes.

Your shoulders slump in defeat, there was no use in pretending to be mad, Ben would see through your lies instantly. “Okay fine, I’m not mad. But we did end up having to buy takeout for dinner, and that was not the plan!”

“Oh boohoo, you had to get tasty food delivered, what a tragedy.”

“Hold up! How come I have to be caring towards you, yet I don’t receive the same treatment?!”

“You raise a valid point. One which I do not care to argue.”

“Whimp.”

“That’s me! - Hold on a sec, I’m just putting you on speaker. I’ve gotta start getting ready sorry.”

You push yourself up into a sitting position, pressing your back into your pillows. “How long before you have to leave?”

Ben pauses for a few moments, likely to check his schedule for the day. “Um, first interview starts at half eight, last one is around seven-ish.”

“Shit, sounds like a long day, eh?”

Ben sighs, the soft sound causing your heart to ache. All you want is to wrap your arms around him, to make him feel comfortable, and at ease, but you can’t, not from the opposite side of the world.  “Yeah, but it’s been like this the whole time. So I suppose I’m kind of used to it by now.”

“Should I let you go now? To go and get ready and all that? I don’t want to make you late.”

“I don’t want to say goodbye just yet.”

“I know, neither do I. But- but you’ll be home soon! And you’ll be home for at least a couple of months, so we won’t have to say goodbye at all for that whole time!” You’re trying to reassure Ben just as much yourself. The beginnings of these phone calls were always amazing; however the endings were almost impossible.

“Next time I go on a press tour, you should just come with me. That way we get to experience the world together, and never have to say goodbye.”

This time, it’s your turn to sigh. A deep, prolonged sound which conveys just how tired of this particular conversation you are. “Ben, you know I can’t do that. I have a job, I can’t just up and leave. They need me.”

“You don’t need a job! I’ll always look after you! You know that right?”

You rub your hand against your forehead, smoothing the lines which had formed there as you frown. “Ben, I know you’d do everything you can to look after me. But remember, you haven’t always been in my life. I grew up needing to work to look after myself. And, I don’t actually have an issue with that way of life. Don’t get me wrong, I mean, you make more in one month than I do in six. But you have to look at this from my perspective, what if one day, we aren’t together anymore? What if that happens, and I’ve quit my job so I could travel with you for tours and for work. I’d be fucked….”

“A-are you saying you don’t think we’re going to last?”

You blink in surprise, eyes growing wide as you take in Ben’s words. “How is that what you’ve taken away from what I just said?”

“Well that’s what it sounded like to me!”

You can’t help but groan, this certainly wasn’t going the way you had planned. You were both too tired to be having this conversation, that much was obvious. “Look, let’s talk about this when you get home, okay? I’m not suggesting we end our relationship, far from it. I promise. Besides, having two incomes is probably a good thing for the time being.”

Ben’s silence is deafening, and for a moment or two, you almost think he may have hung up on you. “Okay, I’m happy to talk later. Do you, um, have any plans for the rest of the night?” He’s trying to sound normal, though you know his mind has jumped to the worst-case scenarios imaginable.

“Yeah actually, Joe said he was going to drop round for a bit. He’s been in town the last couple of days catching up with friends, then he’s heading off to see Gwil for a little while. But he said he’d swing by tonight. He claims it’s because he wants to make sure I’m doing alright without you, but I’m positive he is actually just looking for an excuse to see Frankie again!”

This earns you a laugh from Ben, a genuine laugh. You knew it would, but just hearing it allowed you to relax somewhat. Maybe he would forget about what you had said, and you would be able to start this conversation fresh, when both of you were more awake. “Maybe we should get him a carboard Frankie to go with Ben-Cardy?”

“No! That is probably the worst idea you have ever had!”

“What? No way! I think it’s brilliant!”

“Benjamin, Joe has only just stopped posting videos of Ben-Cardy. Do you really want all of that to start up again?”

“Hey, it was funny! Especially that one where I got to be in it too!”

“No, that was the weirdest one!”

“You’re only saying that because you walked in on us filming it.”

“Well obviously! Put yourself in my shoes. You’ve just finished a long day at work, you come home to hear giggling in your bedroom,  and your first thought is, fuck my boyfriend is cheating on me! But oh no, instead when you storm into the bedroom, you see said boyfriend in bed with his best friend, and a cardboard cut-out of himself!”

Yet another pause follows your outburst, before Ben begins chuckling. “Okay, yeah, I see what you mean. That probably would’ve been a little odd.”

A rattling of keys in the apartment door grabs your attention, and you peer down the corridor, keeping an eye out for who was coming in. You knew who it should be, but you could never be too sure. The door creaks open, and Joe pops his head in, grinning at you broadly. You had told him where the spare key was kept, so he could let himself in when he arrived, though you had assumed he may still knock to announce his arrival. “Hey babe, I should probably get going. Joe’ll be here soon, and you need to get ready. Like properly get ready, and actually eat something for breakfast. I know you’re back on the smokes…”

“How’d you know that?”

Joe walks further into the apartment, leaning against the bedroom door frame, a fond smile on his lips. “Ben, I know everything. I see all.”

There’s a smirk in his voice now, as if he’s challenging you. “Alright then Miss all seeing. What colour are the boxers I’m wearing right now?”

You bite your bottom lip gently, completely forgetting Joe’s presence for the time being. “You’re not wearing any.” Your voice is low and sultry, and you can hear Ben hiss out a sharp breath. “Have a good day babe, I’ll talk to you later.”

You swipe your thumb against the screen, ending the call before Ben has the chance to respond. “You’re early.” You smile, turning your attention to Joe now, who was intensely pretending to have not heard the ending to your conversation.

“Did you tell him?”

“And hello to you too Joseph.”

“Y/N, did you tell him?”

You sigh, pulling your legs up so you could sit cross-legged on the bed, facing your entire body towards your friend now. “I tried to, but it didn’t exactly go according to plan.”

“So did you or did you not tell him?”

“I didn’t tell him.” Your shoulders slump, and your chin drops as you scowl at the floor.

Joe steps further into the room, coming over to your side where he rests his palm over your shoulder. “You have to tell him, he needs to know.”

“I know that Joe. Don’t you think I know that?” You grumble, flopping your head back so you could look up at him.  “It’s just, every time I try to allude to it in one of our chats, it always gets twisted, and it becomes this big misunderstanding. I think telling him face to face would be best.”

“What do you mean, when you allude to it? Are you actually coming out with the words, or are you trying to skirt around the truth?”

“I mean, I’ll get there eventually. One way or another he’ll find out, I’m just having trouble saying it is all.”

“Y/N. If you don’t tell him, then I will.”

<<<--->>>

Just as Ben had promised, five days later you were waiting at the airport for him to arrive home. The plan had always been for you to be there when he arrived home, however Joe had also decided he wanted to wait for Ben too, as he still had another day before meeting up with Gwil. The two of you stood in the arrivals terminal, you with an A4 sheet of paper with ‘Hardy’ written in pink sharpie, and Joe beside you, with an A3 piece of paper which read ‘Ben Hard-On’.

“Could you stand over there somewhere? Like, as far away from me as possible please? I don’t want people to know that I associate with you.” You grumble, though you’re having an exceedingly difficult time not laughing at his stupidity.

“Hey, it was your idea to make signs!”

“Sign! One sign, as in singular!” You sigh, casting a glare at the grinning American.

Joe simply shrugs, knocking his elbow against your arm playfully. “Well think of it this way, he won’t be able to miss us. Not with a sign like this.” He grins, gesturing down to his crude sign with his chin.

“If anything, he may intentionally miss us after seeing that.”

Before Joe has the chance to reply, you let out a loud squeal, before darting off and leaving him far behind. You sprint forwards, pushing past the couple of people who had decided to stand directly in front of you, blocking your sign off from Ben’s view. “Ben!” You call, throwing yourself at him with as much force as possible.

Ben drops the black rucksack he had been clutching in his hand, allowing it to clunk to the ground. His arms wrap around you tightly, his fingers digging gently into your sides as he pulls you ever closer to him. “Fuck I’ve missed you.” He whispers against your ear, before nestling his nose against the crook of your neck, pressing tiny kisses to the exposed flesh there.

There are tears stinging the backs of your eyes, and you feel as if you’re about to sneeze as you hold the tears back. “I missed you too. So, so much.” You whimper, clutching your arms tighter around his torso. People moved around the two of you, pretending not to see the blatant display of affection, or just too tired to truly care. The flight Ben had just departed had flown from Singapore into London, and everyone who exited looked like zombies, your boyfriend included.

“Well shit, I hope you’ve got enough to go round.” Joe pipes up, standing just behind you and to the left, this way, when Ben looked up to see him, he was greeted with the charming sign he had made.

“I thought airports had rules as to who was allowed inside?” Ben smirked, slowly lowering his arms around you, so one arm now rested around your waist.

Joe simply shrugged, grinning like an idiot. “British airports are a lot more lenient with letting in riffraff like me.”

Shaking his head, Ben stepped forward just as Joe did, both wrapping each other in a one armed hug. “It’s good to see you mate.”

“You too Benny Boo.” Joe chuckled, earning an eye roll from the blonde, and a deep sigh from you.

Ben heads back to you, bending down to scoop up his bag, before swinging it over his broad shoulder. “Here, I have a beanie and sunnies for you.” You offer with a grin, holding the items out to him. The beanie was black, and hand knitted by the old woman who used to live in the apartment next to yours. While the sunglasses were the spare pair he always kept in your car. “Just in case you’re trying to keep a low profile.” You shrug lightly, shoving your hands into the front pockets of your jeans.

“Hey, actually Y/N raises an excellent point. You’re a big movie star now. Where are all the photographers?” Joe demands, his eyes scanning across the crowds of people in the arrivals terminal. Lo and behold, there was a serious lack of paparazzi. In fact, the closest thing which came to paparazzi, was the small huddle of teenaged girls who were gossiping amongst themselves, whilst attempting to take sneaky photos of Ben. One even went as far as holding her phone directly in front of her face, pretending to be taking a selfie, and it would’ve worked too, if it weren’t for her flash going off.

Ben smirks, lifting his brows at the girls as the three of you walk past them and towards the baggage carousel. “Well there’s two reasons actually.”

“Oh, and what would those be?” You enquire, keeping an eye out for the bags you know Ben had taken with him. Although you were positive there would likely be one or two extra, filled to the brim with gifts and souvenirs from each country.

“Well reason one, is that aside from you guys, no one else knew the actual date I would be arriving home.  In the last interview I did in Sydney, I said I would be flying out in a week. So there’s probably a heap of photographers around the lobby of my hotel asking where I am right this very moment.”

Joe turns and looks at Ben over his shoulder, brows creasing into a gentle frown. “You’re a cruel man Hardy.”

“I know, I try my best.”

You roll your eyes, nudging your arm against Ben’s lightly. “Alright, so what’s reason two then?”

At this, Ben’s face breaks out into a wide grin, as he looks between you and Joe. “I use a different name when travelling. One that’s less likely to have people catch on to it being me.”

Your eyebrows rise at this, this was the first time you’d heard of Ben going under a different alias when travelling. You had always assumed he used his own name… “What name do you use?”

“Probably something stupid, like Dinkleburg Flapjack.” Joe butts in, grinning childishly at his made-up name.

The carousel you were waiting at whirls to life, slowly chugging around as bags begin to appear along its tracks. One of Ben’s bags is one of the first to be spat out, and he walks backwards towards it, so he could answer your question. “I like to go by a name literally no one will ever now. Joe Mazzello is one of my favourites to use. Shockingly, no one’s ever heard of him?” And with that, Ben turns on his heel and darts over to grab his bag, as Joe stands stock still, his mouth opening and closing as if he were a fish out of water. As for you? Well, you’re struggling to contain your laughter, and doing a terrible job at it!

<<<--->>>

The three of you sat in comfortable silence as you drove out of the airport, you had requested everyone -namely Joe- be quiet while you attempted to find the exit to get you back on the freeway. You always hated driving around the airport, all of the exits looked the same to you, but you found it slightly easier when you had no other distractions at least. Both Ben and Joe had offered to drive, which although kind, you had declined. One, because Ben was dead tired, and you worried that he would fall asleep behind the wheel; and two, Joe had a habit of forgetting he wasn’t in the USA, and kept trying to drive on the wrong side of the road. All in all, you were the safest option when it came to driving, at least in this scenario.

Ben had his head resting against the passenger seat window, his eyes drifting closed periodically before he would snap them wide open again, as if trying to convince himself he wasn’t in fact about to fall asleep. “Are we dropping you off somewhere Joe, or did you want to come back to our place?” You glance up at the review mirror, catching Joe’s eye in the reflection.

You watch his reaction for a moment, before returning your attention to the road ahead. You knew what his answer would be, even before you had asked the question. He want’s you to talk to Ben, and he has no intention of actually being there when you do so. He just wants it to happen. “If you wouldn’t mind making a pit stop at that little café you showed me the other day, that would be great.”

You nod gently, flicking the indicator on as you make a left turn towards town. “Yeah sure. That’s no worries.”

“Shoot us through a message later on, and we’ll meet you up somewhere to grab dinner, yeah?” Ben grins, turning around and looking at Joe in the backseat.

“Of course, that sounds great!” Joe smiles, shooting Ben a cheesy thumbs up in order to prove his agreement with the idea.

<<<--->>>

After dropping Joe off, you make the short drive back to your apartment, still with Ben dozing off occasionally beside you. “Hey, what’s that?” He pipes up, squinting his eyes at the dashboard, his view obstructed by your hands on the steering wheel.

You cast your gaze down, searching for what had piqued Ben’s curiosity. “Oh, this?” You laugh softly, reaching one hand forward, and grabbing out the folded picture which had been jammed between the plastic dash covering. “I keep your picture in my car. I figure, if I can’t wake up next to you, then this is the next best thing.” You shrug lightly, embarrassment tinting your words.

Ben reaches forwards, taking the folded photo from you, rubbing his thumb over it gently before peeling it open so he could see both sides. From what you had visible; it was just an image of a bordering on tipsy Ben, his blonde curls tousled and unruly, and his ocean eyes shining brightly behind thick lashes. What had been hidden from view, was how on the other half of the photo, he had his arm wrapped around your waist, while your head was resting against his shoulder, an equal look of joy etched permanently upon your face. “Why’s it only me?”

You tilt your head slightly, looking down at the now flattened photo. “Because it’s a great picture of you, but not of me. Besides, I wake up to myself every day. It’s you who I’ve been missing.”  You shrug, pressing the button on the garage key, waiting of the automatic roller door to curl up, before driving into the underground carpark attached to your apartment complex.

“Well I for one, think that this is a beautiful photo. Of both of us.” Ben sighs, rubbing his index finger and thumb along the crease which had formed down the centre.

You pull the key from the ignition then unfasted your seatbelt, swivelling on your seat so you could face Ben properly now. He’s looking at you expectantly, eyes unblinking, and focused solely on you now. “Something’s up, isn’t it?” He sighs, a brief flicker of hurt flashing through his eyes.

You want to lie, to tell him that everything is fine, and that nothing had changed while he was away. Tell him that your lives weren’t about to head down a path neither of you had ever discussed. “Yes, but not in a bad way perse. Let’s get upstairs? You need to catch up on some sleep, and while you do that I’ll start getting you unpacked. We’ll talk when you’re feeling a bit more human, yeah?” You smile, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes like usual.

You push open the car door, sliding out and stepping into the cool garage, the perpetually damp air clinging to your skin like a second layer. “Why are you avoiding having this conversation?” Ben groans, following you around to the back of the car, where you both begin to pull his bags out.

“And what conversation is that exactly Ben?”

You swing his rucksack over your shoulder, pulling a large rolling suitcase behind you. “I don’t know. Whatever conversation it is that we apparently need to have!” He’s exasperated, and honestly, so are you. The fact that he’s tired, and likely has no idea what time it actually right now either, doesn’t exactly help the situation.

“Look, yes there’s a couple of things I need to tell you, but it doesn’t have to be right this instant! It’s not some big dramatic thing, okay?”

Ben frowns, folding his arms across his chest, watching you with a stern gaze. “Well for something that isn’t dramatic, you’ve certainly been putting it off. We could’ve had this, chat, last week. But you decided you didn’t want to!”

“Ben, I am not going to fight with you. Not here, not now, not ever. I am happy to talk with you when you’ve calmed down a bit. But as for right now, I’m going to our apartment, and I’m going to make a pot of tea. I can make it for one or two people, the decision is yours.” You don’t await a reply, grabbing the handle of the suitcase, and wheeling it behind you towards the stairs that lead out of the garage.

For a few moments, you almost think Ben is going to stay and fume by the car, but soon enough you hear his heavy footsteps following you up the stairs, lugging his two other suitcases behind him. “Green or black?” His voice flows from behind you, he sounds nervous, almost as if he thinks he won’t be welcome into his own apartment.

“Black, if that’s alright? I just got a new tin of Russian caravan.” You smile over your shoulder, catching his eye and sending a wink his way.

A blush creeps up his cheeks,  one which you watch melt over his pale skin for the few moments it takes before you arrive at your apartment. You rustle around in your handbag for a few moments, before triumphantly retrieving your keys, shoving one into the main lock, and pushing the heavy wooden door open. Immediately, Frankie is bounding towards the door, barking happily at the sight of Ben. “Hey girl. Hey!” He grins, kneeling in the doorway, where Frankie stands on her hind legs, resting her front paws on Ben’s chest. “Oh I missed you so much! Did you look after Mama Y/N? Did you?” He’s speaking in his baby voice to the excitable beagle, and it’s honestly the gosh darned sweetest thing you have ever heard.

“Of course she did, she was an angel like always.” You call from the kitchen, smiling to yourself. It was the truth, aside from the odd hiccup or two -namely the spaghetti incident- Frankie had been on her best behaviour the entire time Ben was away.

“That’s my girl….” Ben’s voice is lower now, and you’re almost positive he’s bestowing belly rubs upon the spoiled pup.

Humming quietly, you busy yourself with brewing a pot of tea, taking far longer than strictly necessary to select which teapot to use. Reaching up to the top shelf in your pantry, you pull down the spherical BB-8 pot, blowing off the small amount of dust which had accumulated on its lid. As you pour the hot water over the loose tea, Ben heads into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around your waist, and resting his chin over your shoulder. “Hey – I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to pick a fight with you before. I know it seems like it though.”

You replace the lid on the teapot, allowing the tea to steep for the necessary 3-5 minutes. “I didn’t mean to bite back. I think we’re both a bit on edge right now. It’s always like this when you’ve just come home, maybe next time we just need to try and remember that?” You half laugh, bringing one hand up, to stroke your fingers against Ben’s jaw. “If you’re ready now, we can talk?”

Ben lifts his head slightly, pressing a soft kiss against your shoulder before standing up straight, using his hand on your waist to turn you to face him. “I’m ready when you are.” He whispers, crystalline eyes boring into yours.

A deep sigh slips from your lips, a frown creasing between your brows as you attempt to form your next words. “Remember on the phone the other night, and I said that me leaving my job wasn’t such a great idea?”

You know that he remembers, how could he not? But this time you genuinely were stalling. “There’s a reason for that. No, not just because the pessimist inside of me is warning that one day I may not have your income to rely on. But because, having two incomes could be a really good thing right now. In fact, it might be for the best.”

Ben has one hand still resting against your hip, while the other is dragging his fingers through his overgrown locks. “What do you mean? I- I don’t get it?”

“What if, it wasn’t just the two of us here Ben?”

“There’s three of us. You, me, and Frankie!”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, a soft smirk on your lips now. “Right, of course. Well what about four then? What if there were four of us?”

“Do you mean Joe? Is that why he came to the airport today? Is he living with us now? Because if he is, he can bloody well help with the rent!”

“Whoa! No, not that! Not at all!”  Your lower lip presses between your teeth, as you shuffle your feet along the tiled floor. “Ben, I mean a baby. I- I’m pregnant. And I figure, babies can be hella expensive, so maybe the two of us working will make things a little bit easier?” You’re rambling now, you know that. And poor Ben seems to still be trying to compute the news you’ve just dumped on him.

“Y/N, can we just rewind for a second?”

Your mouth slams shut, eyes wide as you nod at Ben. “I’m sorry. I was going to tell you another way. Ben, I’m pregnant. I found out I think maybe, three days after you left.”

“Holy fuck. I mean, holy shit! No, I can’t swear in front of the baby. Oh my god? Is that okay? Or am I not allowed to blaspheme around the baby either?”

At this, you can’t help but laugh, stepping forwards and throwing your arms around Ben’s neck. “I’m only six weeks along. I don’t think you have to worry about thing’s like swearing yet.”

Ben freezes, locking eyes with you as he holds both hands around your waist, pulling you closer against him. “So you’re telling me. You’re pregnant, and the number one take away you have from that, is whether you should keep working or not?”  There’s humour in his voice, and his eyes are sparkling with joy.

“Yep. I guess so.” You shrug, allowing your laughter to flow freely now, uncaring if anyone else heard you.

Ben shakes his head, grinning like a mad man. “Fuck, I love you.” He whispers, leaning in towards you. Your lips lock together, melding into one like the perfect match they are. Teeth knock against teeth for a few moments as you work to find a comfortable pace and position, though your lips never part once. His hands cling to your waist, fingers pressing into your soft flesh, as if he were your anchor to reality, while your hands tangle in his hair, fingers curling and tugging at his blonde curls. Slowly, Ben pulls away, his eyes opening just barely so he could look down at you. “I’ll need to stop smoking. I promise I will.” He whispers.

You smile softly, tilting your head up so your nose bumps against his. “Now that, we can agree on.”

If you enjoy my writing, feel free to check out my MASTERLIST. I write for a somewhat varied number of fandoms. My askbox is ALWAYS open, and I love taking requests! It just may take me some time to write up your request, but I will always get to it!

[kerwritesthings]

The Exquisite Taste of Love

Summary: Everyone’s love language is different and special, getting to share that with the one who you call your heart is something else entirely

Word Count: almost 5.2k (Oops? But not really!)

Warning: tooth rotting sweetness, a touch of naughty and a whole lotta of love

Author Notes: What started out as inspiration from a gif, because the muse likes her pretty, evolved into the idea of a cute little Valentine’s Day blurb which then morphed into a bit of a love letter to the folks in this crazy corner of fandom who have been my biggest cheerleaders when it has come to my writing, with such open arms and friendship. My Valentine’s Day gift to them (and even to the rest of you) – but specially for @whenidance​, @parkerdavis​, @sinplisticshawn​, @fallinallincurls​, @illumecherry​, @hollandraul​ - y’all will notice little special fun in here for each and every one of you. My little love language gifts to you <3 

This, as always, falls again in line with this little world I’ve created, but again can be read as a stand-alone one shot piece, however I would recommend taking a read so you understand the build and the dynamics  – the masterlist of everything can be found here. 

“Can we do a baking night, like a date night?” he inquires, slinging himself against your back and nuzzling into your neck as you finish packing the cookies scattered across the kitchen island into Tupperware. You tried to get a jump on it this year, it’s your tradition to always gift your friends and family little homemade treats for Valentine’s Day. This year, you included adding in plans for special batches for some of Shawn’s team and his family, as well as a surprise for Shawn himself. Tonight’s adventure was for the folks whose items must hit the mail to get their treats in time.

“Wait, did I hear you right?” you giggle. “You, you’re asking to do something in the kitchen? By choice? That has nothing to do with trying to mix drinks?”

“Hey,” he whines, drawing out the y, licking sloppily at the side of your neck. “Can’t get better if I don’t try to learn right? And this is fun stuff, not like chicken or broccoli or pasta.”

“Baking is a lot more precise though than cooking. You need to follow recipes and instructions down to a tee,” you explain. “But you’re right, you won’t get better without trying it more. We’ll start with something a little on the easier side. I was going to do salted caramel cheesecake brownies and chocolate covered strawberries for your family to drop off on Friday. We can make them together.”

“Yay,” he replies, blowing a raspberry against your skin. “What else do you have to do?”

“Nothing else tonight thank goodness, these baby Linzer tarts and chocolate cherry truffles were enough,” you tell him as you package up the last of the chocolates. “I still need to make chocolate pretzel drops and spritz cookies for my office. The boys are going to get the crazy squares they inhaled the last time they were here, so I’m going make those for them. Need to figure out what to send the rest of your out of town contingent. Maybe Nanaimo bars. I may have something up my sleeve for you too, but you will have to wait and see on that.”

He shifts you about in his hold, pressing you into the back of the island before kissing you soundly. “I love that all my folks are now tangled up in your traditions, especially when they don’t need to be.”

“Of course, they do,” you state so matter of factly with a smile. “They’re a part of my life now too. You love them, so. Hell, I even have come to love some of them, despite me questioning why on a few.”

He laughs, swinging you around in his arms before sitting you down on the island before cupping your cheeks. The next thing you know, he’s kissing you again, “I love you. Now let’s plan out the next couple days of your crazy baking adventures.”

The next night while he’s locked away in the studio, Skype session with some of the LA crew you think, you at least get the dough made for the spritz cookies, settling in the fridge to chill, and the crazy squares done for his friends here at home. You’re elbows deep in coconut shortbread when you hear him padding down the hall.

“Ok whatever that it, it smells amazing. Coconut, vanilla and what else is in that?” he asks, hopping on the counter behind you. His long legs start swinging and his socked heels tapping against the cabinets like he’s a child.

“These my dear, are the Nanaimo bars. Or at least my version,” you explain, pushing your hair back off your face with your forearm not to get dough all over the place. “More coconut, vanilla and caramel than chocolate. It’s a coconut vanilla shortbread base, it’ll have a vanilla bean studded caramel custard in the middle. That’s in the fridge already, then I’ll do a chocolate caramel coconut topping for them. Figure little taste of Canada to send out to the rest of your folks.”

“I have no idea how you do it, but it looks and smells yummy. Think we can find candles that smell like this somewhere? That’s a scent I could get used to around here. Could sneak one on the road too, have for when I’m missing you,” he replies, poking his nose in some of the new Tupperware you have on the back counter by him. “What are these? They smell different, they’re not that.”

“Those are the crazy squares. It’s basically like a kitchen sink cookie, but in bar form. And since your friends are human garbage disposals when it comes to eating, I think it’s a good choice,” you get out through a laugh. “Oatmeal, chocolate chips, pretzels, potato chips, peanut butter and a little bit of toffee.”

“My little baking machine,” he comments with a tiny grin, stealing a small bar from the container he was sniffing in. “Damn, these are really good.”

“Shawn,” you yell, flicking the towel that was over your shoulder at his knee. “Those are gifts! No eating the presents. You’ll get your own treats.”

“’M sorry, but not really,” he mumbles through a mouth full of crazy square. “Ooh! We need cards to go with these.”

“What? No, baby we don’t,” you try to explain. “The gift is the goodies.”

“Nope. Cards. Have to,” he says, hopping down from the counter then hip bumping you. “At least for my parents, my sister, and then of course Didi and Tomas too. Maybe a stupid one for Cez to make him laugh.”

He drops a kiss to the tip of your nose, “I’ll handle it. Where did you stash all that extra craft stuff from when you had the A and all her girls over? The fancy scissors and all the paper?”

You have no idea what he’s up to, but you know you’re not going to be able to get him off this train. “Clear bin. Guest room closet, right hand side,” you describe. “Should be the one right on top.”

He scurries off and you just have to roll your eyes, biting back the giggle bubbling up. He’s such a softie. You love it, despite your reticence on his need for cards.

While you finish off the trays of bars, get the spritz cookies in the oven and start the chocolate pretzel drops, he’s stationing himself in the living room cross-legged in front of the coffee table. He’s awfully quiet, minus a hum here and there. You only hear the shuffling of papers and the click swish from scissors. You decide to let him be and have his fun, it gives you the time to finish off more than you were planning for the night.

When you’re done, you come out to a living room that’s just exploding with cut out hearts, but no Shawn. There’s a chain of them hanging from around the television, scattered piles over every table like confetti, a few bigger ones at the center of the coffee table in front of the couch.

“So, I may have been a little sneaky,” he confesses from behind you, arm wrapping around your hips to draw you towards him. “I made a few to use as cards but I wanted to do something a little randomly special for you early, since you’re doing all this baking for everyone when you really don’t have to.”

“You are such a squish Shawn,” you whisper, before leaning your head back on his shoulder. “It’s adorable. I love it. Thank you, sweetie.”

“Love you,” he murmurs into your hair.

There’s a massive vase of white roses and jasmine when you walk into the house the next night after work, sitting smack in the middle of the kitchen island, another cut out heart, this one bubble gum pink with silver writing on it, propped up against it.

So you can take the time to smell the roses, and the jasmine too. Can’t wait to bake with you later. Be home by 7 – xo S

“What is he up to now?” you mutter to yourself, not hearing anything in the condo other than the click of your heels on the kitchen tile floor. You find another bouquet in the living room, a smaller version in your bedroom on your bedside table, a new jasmine candle in your bathroom next to a tiny glass holding a fresh sprig of jasmine along with a tiny white rosebud and even a little spray of them on your desk in the guest room that doubles as your home office. You should be getting everything ready in the kitchen for the big bake, but you sit on the end of the bed needing a minute. You pick up the phone.

“What’s wrong?” Didi responds quickly. “You never call unless something’s wrong. Wait, did he propose finally? Is there a ring? You’re not pregnant, are you? Shit girl I told you...”

“Damnit Dee. No, breathe,” you try breaking through on your best friend’s babble. “There is definitely not a baby. Shit’s sake. Not doing things reverse order. Plus, there’s new album and tour and life. So no, not that. And. When there’s a ring, it’ll be a FaceTime, not a phone call. He just. Last night it was cut out hearts everywhere. Today, I come home. The condo’s filled with white roses and jasmine. Everywhere.”

It’s quiet for a moment. “You cry yet?” she asks softly.

“No,” you sniff. “Close though. I think I only mentioned this once. Of course, he remembers and then goes and does something like this.”

“He’s your person, girly,” Didi replies. “And a mushy lovey fucker for you at that.”

Your best friend is right. He is. “Thanks D, I needed this. I gotta go though I’m sorry. I’m attempting to teach him brownie baking tonight. I still need to change and get everything ready before he’s back at 7. I’ll text you.”

Quickly you throw yourself together as best as you could, changing and pulling everything you need to together along with moving the flowers in the kitchen to the living room. You’re rinsing off the strawberries when you hear his keys hit the lock.

“In the kitchen,” you call out when the door shuts.

“Good day?” he asks, head leaning in to place a kiss against your shoulder, his lips cold against your skin exposed by your tank top.

“Better when I got home,” you reply, leaning your head against his still pressing against you. “You’re a crazy boy, and I don’t even know how to say thank you for it. They’re beautiful. All of them.”

He kisses your shoulder again, before shifting to trail his lips up your neck, nibbling at your ear before a lingering kiss to your cheek. “Love you is all,” he states casually. “Let me change and then I’ll be back in for my lesson.”

While he’s gone, you decide to get the strawberries out of the way first. Brownies will be the more complicated of the two, so to start easier will be a good idea. He comes back in as you’re breaking up the chocolate bars into a large glass bowl.

“Chocolate covered strawberries first,” you begin. “They’re the less difficult of what’s on the agenda and we should get them dipped and set in the fridge before the oven gets on and warms the kitchen. Normally I’d melt and temper the chocolate over a double boiler, but not fussing with that tonight. It’s breaking it up, adding a little bit of oil and melting it in the microwave. Then we just dip away. I’ll finish on the milk, why don’t you get started on either the dark or the white, then I’ll do the other when I’m done.”

The both of you find a rhythm, breaking and chatting, sneaking in a kiss here or a prolonged touch there while you get the chocolate ready.

“Now, that those are melted. We pat the strawberry dry to make sure the chocolate will stick,” you explain, showing him the first one. “Hold it closer to the end of the stem and swirl, leave a little bit showing and let it drip the extra chocolate off, then place it down on the wax paper. Once they’re all dipped, we can drizzle another color chocolate over it with what’s left.”

“This isn’t so bad,” he declares after a few rows of berries are done. “Though, I think I know a way to make this a little more fun.”

He dips his finger around the edge of the bowl with the dark chocolate, pulling some off the glass. He eyes you carefully, crooking the chocolate covered finger at you.

“Shawn,” you question.

“C’mere,” he requests. You move slowly over, his non chocolate covered hand grabbing a strong hold against the curve of your hip. He takes the chocolate laden finger, tracing your bottom lip first, then the dip between your collarbones, chocolate sticking carefully against your skin.

“Dessert before dinner, yum,” he whispers, a breath from your lips before sinking into them. Licking his way into your mouth, you can’t help but slide your hands into his hair and moan. It was dirty and deep from the start, but when you flick your tongue against his, you feel his grip on your hip tighten even more.

He breaks from you first, trailing his lips down your cheek, across your neck to latch onto your collarbone and the chocolate he left there. You don’t want him to leave a mark, but secretly, you’re hoping he does.

“Baby,” you whine, hands gripping at his hair harder as he bites and sucks along the line of your bone. At this rate you’re going to be so bruised. He nips his way back up your neck before sipping at your lips again, leaving you breathless.

“Mmm, well you’re quite delicious, I think like this baking thing,” he grins like a cat who got the cream.

“It’ll be my turn soon, don’t you worry,” you proclaim, trying to stir the rest of the chocolate back to life. “Let’s finish these off before the chocolate starts gets too firm.”

He slides behind you, leaning in flush against your back, “I could make a really bad joke here, you know.”

You feel him, half hard and snug against your ass.

“Baking, Shawn. We’re baking,” you remind him with a sigh, while arching back to tease him. “You’re the one who asked for a baking date night. There will be more of that after if you’re lucky and you behave.”

He bites at your earlobe, grinding into you once. “Can we keep some chocolate for later then?”

You push back at him, “Says the one who isn’t always keen on chocolate.”

“But it’s chocolate off you, it automatically tastes better and makes me want more of it,” he proclaims with a cheeky smile, sliding over to the sink to wash his hands.

You make quick work of the last of the berries, getting the trays into the fridge so you can finally get going on the brownies.

“Salted caramel cheesecake brownies next,” you say as you pull the bricks of cream cheese from the fridge and the blocks of butter off the back counter. “Two different batters, but they’re both pretty easy. We start with the brownie batter first, then whip the cheesecake batter, swirl the dulce de leche through that, then swirl that into the brownie batter. Drizzle it all with a little more caramel, then sprinkle on some flaky sea salt before popping them into the oven.”

“It’s unfair how you make it sound so simple and easy,” he notes, watching you measure out cocoa powder. “I see that recipe and it’s like 38 steps long.”

“Not that many. Come over here, I promise let me show you, it’s not hard,” you slide your arm through his to pull him closer.

“That’s what she said,” he quips, poking at your side. The two of you plug away step by step, first on the brownie mixture, before starting in on the cheesecake. While you trust Shawn to continue keeping an eye on the whipping cream cheese in the stand mixer, you break out the jar of dulce de leche you’ve had warming slowly in a warm pan of water on the stove.

“Now that it’s done, and once this is a little cooler, we’ll drizzle some of this in there to make a ribbon through it before adding it into the pan with the brownie batter,” you describe, popping the lid carefully off.

You dip your pinkie into the warm sugary syrup, “Mmm liquid gold. This is perfect.”

Shawn snags your hand before you get a chance to wipe it on the towel, popping your pinkie into his mouth.

“Damnit Shawn,” you husk out as he works at your finger with his tongue. While he’s preoccupied, you quickly poke another finger from your left hand into the jar. Payback, you think, is a bitch. You slide your pointer finger down the line of his jaw before taking it down the line of his neck. His eye pop open and grow wide, sliding your finger free.

You don’t give him a chance to say a word, latching onto his jaw. His hands grasp you immediately, one lacing around the back of your head to hold you to him, the other square on your ass. You take your time, just as he did earlier, licking and nibbling your way through the sweet caramel until you hit his skin.

“Sweetheart,” he moans, almost bordering on a growl, when you hit that spot on his neck that drives him crazy. The hand on your ass draws you closer to him, sliding his thigh between your legs. You keep at that spot, you know there’s nothing coming up so if you do mark him up, which you want to do badly, there’s no real repercussions.

“Shit, baby,” he whines, needy and desperate as you keep up your assault on his neck. You make quick work on the rest of the dulce, sliding right back up to exactly where you know you can get him keening. Kitten licks at first, then tiny bites soothed by a bit of sucking. You keep the pattern up for a few passes, his skin warm under your tongue, warm until you know they’ll be a bit of a reminder tomorrow.

“Fuck,” he bites out, drawing you up and away from his neck to bring you up to meet his eyes.

“Something wicked this way comes,” you smirk, licking at your lips.

He dives for your mouth, hot and hard and fast until you’re both out of breath.

“Now, think we can keep our hands to ourselves to get these in the oven?” you pant. “And when your mother asks how we made these together, we do not tell her about the soft-core porn action in the kitchen.”

He kisses you sweetly, softly, “I think it would be a fun story though.”

You roll your eyes, pushing at his chest, “Brownies, swirling, salting and into the oven. C’mon.”

You both manage to keep your hands, and your lips, to yourself for the rest of the process. You cannot help but chuckle, watching him salt the brownies ever so carefully. “It’s like icy snow,” he proclaims, grinning like a little kid.

Once in the oven, you split clean up duty and then start to pack up the berries off the trays.

“I feel bad that I can’t go with you to drop this all off tomorrow, but there’s no way I can duck out early enough,” you lament, shifting the berries about to make sure they’re not going to be smushed in transport.

“The fact you made all this for them, from scratch no less, is more than enough,” he insists. “I normally just send flowers. Which I’m still doing for both of them. This is just over the top extra awesome.”

You can’t help but smile, “They’re my family now too. Well, close enough you know? I love them…”

He wraps you in a hug, “I love that you consider them yours, cause they are. Absolutely, they’re your family. Now, let’s finish this and go cuddle on the couch until the brownies are done.”

Before leaving for the office, with Shawn still cozy in bed asleep since you’re up a good deal earlier than normal today, you slip out the red box you’ve had hidden in the back of the pantry out onto the kitchen counter. Inside, a few smaller red containers, filled with his treat surprises for the day.

You steal one of the blank hearts from the dining room table, a white one, for a note.

For my darling, the first of a few surprises for you today. Despite your recent affection for chocolate, here’s a little something to start your day. Through the day you’ll find little things here and there, just small little sweets that I know you adore, maybe as much as me. Because my heart, you have mine and I want to spoil you a little today. Love you valentine xo <3

You prop the note against one of the larger containers, this a perfect square. The first time you ever made him your lemon lime scones, it was one of first nights you stayed over. He waxed poetic about them for days. You knew they had to be a part of his treat trail today. This time though in a mini version. The second box, a smaller thinner one, you slide into his guitar case, filled with rolls of homemade strawberry fruit leathers. A third box, shortbread thumbprints with sour cherry jam, you place in his studio by his journal. The fourth, in a tin on top of the corner chair in the living room where he leaves one of his guitars out always, most difficult of the treats you made for him - tequila laced gummy bears. The final, and a last minute addition made last night when he was half dozy on the couch and thought you were boxing the brownies, a few chocolate covered caramels that you leave by his keys at the front table as a nod to last night’s funtivities.

You grab the bag filled with the baked treats for your office and head out the door. When you finally arrive at your office, a few minutes late because of your hiding duties at home and setting up your treats for the team in the kitchen, you’re greeted by a bouquet of blush peonies and antique roses.

“Came in just a few minutes ago,” Rosalie, the office receptionist tinkers gleefully, peeking her head into your office. “Do we get to see that boy of yours today? That would be a lovely Valentine’s Day treat.”

Rosalie, who is old enough to be your grandmother but has the energy level of a teenager, absolutely adores Shawn. They’re thick as thieves, getting along together immediately. She mothers the heck out of him when he comes to see you, helps him sneak things into your office, the two of them gang up on you to make sure you’re fed and hydrated when you’re pulling late hours, and is an absolute godsend when you work remote if you’re out on the road with him.

“Not sure,” you smile, smelling one of the blooms. “I know he’s heading out to Pickering at some point to see his family. Not sure what he’s got up his sleeve or has plans on for later. I’m being surprised. Best not poke at him and ruin whatever he’s got going.”

“Just let him know his smiling face is missed around here ok?” she nods, heading back towards her desk.

You snap a quick photo of the flowers and fire off a text – Happy Valentine’s Day indeed. They’re so pretty, thank you! <3 ilu :) xo

You’re knee deep in trying to clean out your inbox when your phone chimes. A selfie, his bed head in full force and he’s smiling around one of the scones in his mouth. Omg you made me the Sprite scones! AND THEY ARE TINY BABY SIZED ONES I CAN FIT IN MY MOUTH ALL AT ONCE! Followed by alternating string of lemon, soda cup, green and yellow heart emojis.

He finds the thumbprints next, a photo of a cookie next to him giving you a thumbs up, more emojis again this time alternating the cherries, red lips and red heart. Where did you find the sour cherry jam? I haven’t been able to find it anywhere. OR DID YOU MAKE THIS TOO?!

Immediately after was a boomerang, the tin of strawberry fruit rolls, rocking and rolling back and forth. Followed by strawberry emojis between kissy face smileys. These taste exactly like you do after we go strawberry picking in the spring and you sneak berries along the way when you think no one is looking. But I always am.

It takes a little longer for the next find. You’re in the middle of a conference call when your phone starts buzzing. A gif of a worm with a sombrero on, tipping back on a bottle of tequila. How the hell did you make me seriously boozy af gummy bears? They’re as big as my thumb! I can’t have these before heading out to the ‘rents. I’m drunk already from just smelling them.

You have to mute your line and laugh heartily. This right here made it all worth it. His reactions are priceless. You’re so glad the little surprises are making him this silly happy.

The next one, about half an hour later, is a voice memo.

“You sneaky, naughty little minx,” he husks out, voice deep. “Chocolate caramels. You knew exactly what I’d think of, didn’t you? I’m in the car trying to get out and through downtown, but now all I can think about since finding them are your breathy little moans, your hands in my hair and your mouth at my throat. Fuck baby, you definitely left the best for last. I snuck them in the car to have one on the ride, but there’s no way I can even try one now.” He pauses for a beat; a hard sigh escapes his lips. “Just you wait until later. Now, I need to get out of this tangle you’ve got me in before I get home to my parents. I’ll be back by the time you get home from work. I love you sweetheart.”

Thank god you didn’t put that on speakerphone. He sounded like pure wicked sin, plain and simple. He’s got you in knots now too. You just need to get through the rest of the day in one piece. Thankfully, your boss kicks the entire office out early, partially because of her own plans, and partially because of the long weekend stateside. You’ll take it. Hopefully you can beat Shawn home to be able to maybe shower and change before he gets back.

A cute video comes through as you walk out of the office, from his sister. “First off, I’m mad at Shawn for not bringing you with, but then he said you had work. So, I let it slide. A little at least. Then he let us open the goodies. You made all our favorites! You’re the best. Please come visit, or let’s plan another girls’ night and we’ll kick him out of the condo! Wait wait, hold on. Someone else wants to say thanks!” She pans her phone to the kitchen and flips the camera around. “Sweetie, thank you so much for all the treats. You will need to send me the recipe for the brownies, they’re delicious. I still don’t believe Shawn helped you with all this, if that’s the case, congratulations for getting him in the kitchen willingly. And without disaster, I hope at the very least. I’m hiding some so maybe there’s still some left when Manny makes it home. Let’s figure out dinner all of us together next week. Love you!”

Warmth spreads through you as you navigate your way back home after that one. You’re floating at this point. However, you did not luck out in beating him back as you walk through the door. There’s a litany of white pillar candles of all different heights and thicknesses everywhere in the living room, flickering as if they’re just lit. There he is, ensconced in the corner of the couch, guitar slung across his lap. He smiles, patting the open cushion next to him.

“I will spare you from the ultimate perfect yet cheesy Canadian Valentine’s Day, singing some Celine Dion love song to you,” he jokes, pressing a lengthy kiss to your temple. “But I did dig through someone’s playlists to find something. Mind you, this is only part of your gift, which will never rank up against all that you did for me today. That was, just, ridiculous and perfect and sweet. So damn thoughtful, babe. I loved it.”

He leans over to quickly press a kiss at the corner of your mouth before diving into the song.

“The dawn is breaking, a light shining through. You're barely waking and I'm tangled up in you,” he sings. “I’m open, you're closed. Where I follow, you'll go. I worry I won't see your face light up again.”

Your breath sticks in your throat. Your brain scrambles slightly, eyes clouding up. You miss him sing the chorus the first go, the blood rushing through your ears.

“I'm quiet you know. You make a first impression. I've found I'm scared to know I'm always on your mind. Even the best fall down sometimes, even the stars refuse to shine. Out of the back you fall in time. I somehow find you and I collide,” he continues. “Even the best fall down sometimes. Even the wrong words seem to rhyme. Out of the doubt that fills my mind, I somehow find you and I collide.”

You sniff as he finishes, shifting his guitar out of his hands to move behind you before throwing yourself into his lap, arms tight around his neck. “So, you’re going to need to record that for me, so I have that to sing me to sleep when you’re out on tour. Honey, that was just…”

You trail off, leaning your forehead against his, trying to catch your breath and your words all at once. His hands a steady hold on your waist, fingers trailing up and down slightly.

“Just when I think you’ve permeated every part of my heart already, you go and do something like that,” you profess honestly. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he whispers against your lips. “So much.” He draws you closer, arms tightening around you. His heartbeat a tether to yours, a steady rhythm in time with each other’s beats. 

TAG LIST: @whenidance, @parkerdavis, @sinplisticshawn, @hollandraul, @fallinallincurls, @itrocksmysocks, @rainbowshawn, @lasingphomustra, @illumecherry​

[unlockthelore]

Chivalry

For so long, Kairi had been the one who was protected, but now she had to protect the ones who tried their hardest for her.

Part of the Beyond the Horizon series on Ao3. For more updates, follow the beyond the horizon tag on this blog.

Returning to the island where they played as children was difficult on Riku. As much as he tried to hide his inner struggles, they were there, plain as day in Kairi’s eyes. She could tell how he tried not to approach the Secret Place or the furthermost treehouse with its open terrace where the palm trees shaded enough for a nice nap. Walks along a sandy shore with the surf’s chilled foamy waters rolling over their feet were harder when they looked back and found only two sets of footprints instead of three. She didn’t pretend not to notice when Riku squeezed her hand or lingered on the bent paopu tree long past sunset.

A space always left between them for the one who couldn’t be there with them.

For now, she reminded herself. Just for now.

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

“Need another pin.”

Riku’s voice roused her from her thoughts just as the waves crashed against the pier’s wooden posts. A spray of water misting against the soles of her feet as they swung back and forth over the damp wooden boards. Kairi tipped her head to one side then glanced toward the calloused palm hovering in her periphery. The scrapes and bruises unable to be healed by healing magic blended into peach tanned skin, but afternoons spent tracing them with her nails reminded her of where they were. She shuffled slightly, a throbbing ache in her lower back from sitting in one position for so long. Her fingers dipped into the small cup of bobby pins left beside an assortment of colorful hair clips beneath the pom of her moogle backpack. Two plucked out and set in Riku’s palm. Sunlight catching on the glossy black surface until his fingers curled around them and a light kiss was pressed to the top of her head.

“Thank you.”

Kairi smiled to herself, one of her knees pulled to her chest as she leant back against him. His fingers working into her hair with the start of another braid somewhere at the right side of her head. “So you’re going on another world tour after this?” She asked, resting her hand against his thigh, the checkered pattern of his board shorts plucked between her fingertips.

It took a moment longer for him to reply. Always so serious with his work, a distracted hum was his only response for a moment. “Yeah…” He murmured, and she felt him tie off the braid after snapping on a rubber band. “Part of being a Keyblade Master is making sure no one has so much as a hurt toe, I guess.”

“Riku,” she scolded gently.

Although, she could understand his discontent with the task. Masters were charged with the world’s affairs, but in Kairi’s opinion, it seemed too big of a job for one person. Or two, in Aqua and Riku’s case. More than that, she knew what he wanted to do with the access he was given to traversing the worlds but someone had to be there to help. Perhaps they were following Sora’s example by trying to do more for others instead of putting themselves first.

She frowned and curled her fingers around Riku’s knee, squeezing gently. “It has been awhile though, and it would be nice to see everyone again.”

The likelihood of new information cropping up was minuscule but they could take comfort in knowing their friends hadn’t given up. Just as they hadn’t. Riku’s thigh tensed beneath her elbow and his hands stilled in her hair. She could tell he was considering her words or at least the implication set behind them. A light ruffle to the back of her head before he started to gather her hair up in a ponytail.

“Just so long as you don’t disappear into the castle for hours,” he said with a playful scolding tone. “I swear, Ienzo will talk to you forever about science if you let him.”

Kairi smiled, keeping her head stilled as he continued combing his fingers through her hair. “He’s just really passionate about what he does!” She clapped her hands together, fingertips pressing and palms barely touching. “Besides, it’s nice to hear it.”

To be included, if she were honest. So often were things done without her involvement or knowledge. Left out. Left behind. She was sick and tired of being the odd one out who wasn’t expected to do anything. If everyone she loved was going to fight then so was she. Even if it did mean going through lectures and notes Ienzo meticulously prepared, far too eager to share his knowledge with someone else.

After a few moments of idle humming and his hands working through her hair, Kairi bounced and pressed her empty hand to her thigh. “Are we done?” She tried to keep the impatience out of her voice but she desperately wanted to see his work. Growing out their hair again had been a mutual decision for the time being.

The unspoken condition not having to be said when they thought back to their journey before the last. Sora lamenting that he was the only one who hadn’t grown between the three of them. When in her eyes, he was one of the two that had changed the most.

Her bangs were swept to one side in answer, Riku’s lilting hum coming with the soft click of a hair clip. Rough palms gently cupped her cheeks and tipped her head back to where his lips were waiting to brush a kiss against her forehead. It was featherlight and fleeting, ending before she could really enjoy it, but a pleasant touch all the same. Her eyes crinkled at the corners as her lips pulled back in a smile, fingers curled over his own to squeeze.

“Are we done?”

“Mmm…” Sharp shadows cast by the fading afternoon sun darkened Riku’s blue-green eyes, half-lidded as his gaze flicked about her face lingering somewhere above her eyes. “Yep.”

Kairi grinned and brushed his hands away, twisting to kneel between his thighs, her arms thrown around his neck in a tight hug. “Thanks Riku.”

“Welcome,” he murmured. His breath ghosted across her bare shoulder, sending shivers down her spine that had little to do with the water dribbling along her toes. Gentle pressure from his hand flattened against her back in the barest show of affection.

Kairi sighed. Her mouth tucked against the curve of his jaw as she held him close and listened to the waves. One day, she wished, one day Riku would be able to accept the love they had to give him. As a friend and hopefully something else. She pulled back enough to hold him by the shoulders, ignoring a faint flutter in her chest when he looked up at her from beneath silver-white eyelashes.

“How about we go tomorrow?”

Surprise flickered across Riku’s features, and Kairi could understand why. Abrupt departures were something they tried to avoid when finding a new normal. But normal was far off for either of them. “Fine by me,” he said after a brief pause, a small smile quirked at the corners of his lips. “Little late today anyway. Your grandpa will kick my ass if you disappear without telling him.”

Kairi stifled a giggle behind a closed fist drawn to her mouth while her other hand thumped against Riku’s shoulder scoldingly. While she could recall the mayor’s stricken face when she returned to the main land, it was his weeping in private that’d made her reluctant to leave so soon.

“He’s been letting up just a little with letting me go more, but I still should tell him.”

The hand against her lower back hovered somewhere near her hip with the other joining it to keep her steady. Riku shifted backward to make room for her to clamor up onto the pier, the items spilled out of their shared backpack stored away.

“Lucky you,” she heard Riku say as he tried to free the moogle’s pom from the pack’s zipper. Her reflection in her gummiphone’s camera smiling and observing the three braids, clip and high ponytail he’d done with interest.

Once their pack was closed and hiked up on Riku’s shoulder, he held his hand out to her and Kairi took it with a light squeeze. She hooked her fingers in the opening of her sneakers and carried them at her side as they walked down the pier. Riku strolling down the steps one by one while Kairi hopped two by two. Their uneven pace dragged him forward a bit and only after he nudged her shoulder did she decide to slow down. Moisture along the soles of her feet made the sand cling between her toes, a soft krrch as she rubbed them together, enjoying the grit and slight sink of her heels in the sun warmed shores.

It only made sense for her to walk in the surf, she pointed out to Riku as she tugged him over. Glistening waters washed over her feet and barely touched the soles of his sandals although he made sure to gripe about it every time it came close. Their talks ranged from his mother’s experiments with the Keyblade out of sheer engineering delight, and their respective guardians’ reactions to learning there were other worlds outside of their own. While her grandfather seemed to accept it well enough, Riku’s mother was infinitely curious.

Like mother, like son.

“My mom’s been worried every time I talk about a new world. Chip and Dale gave her a gummiphone to ease her worry, and they’ve been talking non-stop about prototypes and who knows what else.”

Kairi giggled. “Little victories, Riku.”

He shot her a look of mock annoyance. “Always looking on the bright side, aren’t you? Let me sulk a bit, will ya?”

As they crossed beneath the bridge connecting the island to the smaller one a bit further from its shores, Kairi pretended to think it over. Shade provided by the wood was filtered with glimmers of light between the cracks and openings. It’d been awhile since Sora’s dad came to patch the bridge up. She could hardly imagine what it would be like a few years from now. Rolling her eyes up to the small streaks of sunlight, she hummed then shook her head.

“Nope!” She swung their hands back and forth, smiling despite his withering stare. “Not allowed.”

Riku sighed heavily, exaggeratedly rolling his eyes. “Whatever you say, princess.”

Princess.

Kairi swallowed. She hardly thought of the title much in the recent year or two. Not like when she’d been pulled from their island the first time. Her heart vied after because it was that of a princesses’. Seeing all of those empty faces, vacant eyes, Sora’s pain to strive and get her back but all he saw was a shell. She wasn’t truly inside. She was part of him. The princess who needed saving was right by his side all along but unable to do a thing.

“You’re never gonna let that go, are you?” She asked, trying to keep the mood jovial but the bitter thought soured her tone.

Riku’s half-jesting smile fell, a single brow raised as they slowed to a stop half-way beneath the bridge. “Why would I?”

“Because I’m not really a princess,” she said. Not at all. Even from the world she truly came from, there was nothing about her that was princess-like. Only a little girl who enjoyed flowers and her grandmother’s stories.

“What? You mean like the ones in fairy tales?”

Something in her snapped at the mention of fairy tales. Her grandmother’s face, weathered with age but sincere with greyed eyes and a chipper smile. “Yes,” she huffed. Riku snorted and shook his head. Kairi frowned. Just what was he not understanding? “I’m not a princess.”

She squeezed his hand and the last of the humor drained out of him as he stared down at her, his eyes seeming to glow in the weak light.

“Okay, and what is a princess to you?”

Her mouth fell open and for a moment, she wasn’t sure what to say. Her grandmother described princesses in one way or another with all of the stories of young women scattered across time in different worlds.

“Someone that’s meant to be royalty,” Kairi started, ticking off the traits on her fingers. “Calming, kind, gentle, loving, caring.”

With it laid out before her, she had to attest that she wasn’t any of those things. Hardly calming with the amount of trouble that stirred with her mere presence. Kind was an overstatement. She was nice when she wanted to be and otherwise, if someone really deserved it then she’d let them have it. Gentle, absolutely not. Loving, her gaze flicked to Riku and his thoughtful expression then the image of Sora in her mind.

Caring? If she cared, then neither of them would be like —

“Wanna know what a princess is like to me?” Riku interjected, cutting off the poisonous thoughts and dragging her back to reality. His eyes were glowing in the darkness and seemed to only render her silent as all she could do was muster a nod. “Someone like you.”

With how resolutely he spoke the words, she couldn’t think of anything to say in response. Transfixed on his face and the stern set of his jaw as he held her hand a bit tighter.

“So what if you weren’t meant to be royalty. Half the people who are don’t deserve it anyway,” he seemed to consider something then shrugged half-heartedly. “Sans the king and queen that is.”

Kairi tried not to laugh as Riku mumbled and fumbled with his words. It was sincere and she felt the biting souring thoughts begin to drift backward. Not out of mind but further from the centre of it.

“People have to want to follow you and listen to you. You think Donald and Goofy would’ve chased after Mickey for so long if they didn’t at least like him?”

She had to give him a point on that one. King Mickey, despite all of his faults, was fairly likable if not a little cute. Donald was a bit of a livewire while Goofy could be a bit lazy now and again. For both of them to run around the worlds with Sora in search of their lost king, he had to be something.

Still, that changed little in what she thought. Her fingers pressed against his own, their palms warm and a bit clammy. “Who would want to listen to me?”

Her voice rarely reached. When Sora needed encouragement, when he was at his lowest and felt abandoned by all those around him, she could barely summon a word to help him out. But she could hear him calling to her all the time from where she slept. Assuring her that he would come and rescue her, that he missed her, that they would all be together again. Riku did the same but his words were harsher. He assured he would protect her, that he wouldn’t let anything else harm her, that they’d go elsewhere — all three of them — just like they said.

They were all blinded and unable to hear.

And all she wanted was for them to listen to what she had to say.

Riku tugged her close by the hand, her toes catching in the sand as she fell into the solid warmth of his chest. His hand pressed to her back as he held her close.

“Me. Right now.… Hear me out?”

Kairi curled her fingers in the back of his tank top and pressed her forehead to his chest, nodding slowly. Riku felt sturdy and firm, solid with enough softness that she could be sure he wasn’t made out of stone. His fingers brushed against the swell of her ponytail and she hugged him tighter around his middle.

“You’re kind, you’re caring…” He snorted and flicked the ends of her hair, sending them sweeping against her shoulders with a light tickle that made a giggle bubble up in her throat. “And very stubborn.”

Kairi huffed, patting his back lightly. “So are you.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t mind being a princess,” Riku said in a snobbish tone. Kairi biting back laughter by burying her face against his chest. His own chuckles felt as vibrations beneath her cheek. “Let me finish.”

She nodded slowly and brought her other hand around his middle, her sneakers knocking together as she hooked her hands by her pinkies. Riku’s hand settled against the top of her head and smoothed down her hair. The distant crash of waves, trickling frorm the makeshift waterfall near the little cove they called their Secret Place. Even the gentle creaking of the wood as it groaned beneath a salty breeze rolled in from the ocean. It all reminded her so much of home.

“You’re kind but you don’t let people walk over you. You know your worth, what you put your time into you’re passionate about. And you do your best to help. That’s why people listen to you. You’re always trying, we can rely on you. Remember when we found Chocolina as kids? You calmed her down because you’re you. That’s your power, Kairi.”

She buried her face against his chest. It was difficult to stop herself from doing it. With all of what he said, she couldn’t help but try to find some alternative. When they needed her most — her voice couldn’t reach them, but she was trying now. That meant something, didn’t it? Sora’s infectious cheer, all of his positive-thinking, it might have been rubbing off on them for awhile now. As much as she wanted to be upset with herself, she wanted to take this chance even more.

Riku’s hand settled against her shoulder, strong and unyielding, but gentle as he pulled back from her. His blue-green eyes softened, fingers curling beneath her chin to tilt her head up. Concern stole his smile and his thumb swiped under her eye, smearing a tear against her skin. She sniffed and offered him a smile as her hand came up to cup the back of his own.

“So what if you’re not one of the ones in the story. I never was really into the damsel in distress type anyway.”

Kairi covered her mouth hurriedly, a snort that was definitely unprincess-like left them both sputtering in laughter. Riku leant down and his forehead pressed to hers as they laughed and smiled. If a few tears slipped past then neither of them mentioned it. Only wiping it away with the crooks of fingers and a reassuring glance. Her hand slipped into Riku’s again and he gave it a gentle squeeze.

“But if it bothers you, I’ll stop calling you that,” he promised, and she knew that he meant it.

The walk from beneath the bridge was slower and as they approached the other side of the sands, Kairi glanced up at him.

“Riku?”

He gave a soft hum, his head turned the other way, eyes focused on the ramshackle doorway which led to the other part of the island. She wondered what he was thinking. Would it have been the race he had with Sora? Or when they were finally putting the last touches on their raft.

“… Be my prince?”

His hold on her hand tightened considerably and absently, Kairi had to wonder if he was holding back his real strength all the time. His head whipped around and in the scarlet sunrays, she could see the faint touch of pink in his cheeks. “What?”

She tipped her head to one side, feigning innocence with a small smile. “Too much?”

“W- I mean…” Riku sputtered, and Kairi tried her best not to laugh. It wasn’t often that she saw him at a loss for words or this shy. He lifted a hand, rubbing the back of his head. “I’m not really the prince type, Kairi.”

“Of course you are,” she insisted, feeling just a bit of payback was in order along with honesty. “You’re kind and patient, and you always come to the rescue when you’re needed. Besides, I feel safe around you.”

With each trait listed off, Riku seemed to grow more and more shy. She wanted to pull him into another hug and assure him that it was true. All of the words she was speaking, the meaning behind them, they were absolutely true. Riku always thought the worst of himself and although she knew he was changing to begin with — this wasn’t what she wanted.

He didn’t deserve to suffer for his mistakes forever.

“If you’re really set on having a prince, save that spot for Sora.”

Kairi’s eyes widened as the name fell from Riku’s lips. He didn’t shy away from speaking about Sora in matters of finding him or the deeds he committed for the sake of the worlds. But on their own, in times when it was only them, he seemed to dance around speaking his name as if he was unworthy of saying it. His hand fell from the back of his neck, hanging loosely at his side as he gazed northward past the broken fence partly submerged where it hung off from the shores and dipped into the ocean.

Kairi followed his line of sight and for a second, she could imagine Sora hopping along the posts while they urged him to be careful. His sunny grin wet when he accidentally slipped and fell into the water, splashing about in surprise. Riku ran after him without hesitation and Kairi returned to the treehouses to grab a few of the sheets to help them dry off after. She squeezed his fingers again as the memory faded along with Sora’s laughter.

“Then what are you?” She asked, turning her gaze back to Riku. He surprised her, constantly. Always deflecting positive affirmations to someone else. She knew that he didn’t mean to. That he was trying to stay within the lines that he’d set and not stray from them. Time would help them both but she wasn’t sure what all was needed. How far did they have to go before they could be together without feeling guilty again.

Riku shrugged, sheepish but receptive as he glanced toward her. A pride in his eyes that reminded her of the boy who proclaimed they’d leave their home world with a simple call of ‘Let’s go’.

“The knight who keeps you both safe.”

Kairi shook her head, tugging lightly on their hands. “We keep each other safe, Riku,” she chided gently, tipping her head skyward. “And we’ll save our prince and then…”

“Happily ever after.”

Kairi looked to him in surprise, the vague amusement showing in his eyes as he laced their fingers together then turned his gaze skyward.

“Yeah,” she echoed back as she stared at him numbly, then turned her gaze upward once more. “Happily ever after…”

[wellhellotragic]

Dead in the Water (2/2)

Here is its guys, the epic conclusion to this fic, all inspired by @clockadile’s​ amazing work (just wait until you see her second piece!!!!). I hope you all enjoy it. I’ve had a lot of fun plotting this out with Clock, even if writing it was like pulling teeth at times. My own fault to be certain. It’s a bit strange to know this is the end of my fic writing, but I couldn’t have asked for a better event to go out on. Thank you again to @csrolereversal​ for putting this all together.

Summary:

Killian Jones may have just had the worst year of his life. The loss of his hand, of his career, and of his pride were almost more than he could take. In a bid to reclaim his life, Killian decided it was time to face his fears, and get back on the metaphorical horse, or in his case, back on the water. Only, the purchase of a haunted second-hand boat may just come at the cost of his sanity.

“The sea is like a cruel mistress. You can love her, you can hate her, but you can never trust her.” - author unknown

A/N: Just to warn readers, this is were the fic earns it’s mature rating for violence. It’s not discussed in extreme detail, but some people may find it upsetting.

Rating: M (foul language sprinkled in and some adult themes)

Also on AO3

 Fall turned to winter and winter to spring. The leaves fell, littering the streets, only to be replaced by mountains of snow, which eventually melted off leaving a mess of sludge behind. The city kept going somehow. But The Jolly remained untouched for months, still left barely tied to the dock.

 Killian hadn’t actually been out to check on her since his frightening encounter. Wasn’t even rightfully sure if she was still there. He’d been too spooked at first. Then too busy with work. 

 But by the time March came around, things at work had slowed a bit, and Killian began to wonder about that day. Months had passed and his memory just a little foggy. Had he really seen anything at all? Or had his mind just twisted something up? Like awakening from a dream and not knowing what was real or not. He’d been through so much in the year and a half before. It hardly would have been the first time he’d imagined seeing things.

 By April he was all but convinced that the entire thing had been one huge figment of his imagination and was ready to give sailing another go. Starting with just a small trip out to build his courage, Killian waited until well after sunrise, hoping the extra hours of daylight would provide a slight respite from the chill still in the air. He didn’t even bother packing food as his plan was to not go so far out that he couldn’t see the marina. 

 The Jolly was still there, something he found slightly surprising as the winter waves had been known to blow sailboats clear down the shoreline and he’d barely tossed the rope around the deck cleat. She was also a little worse for the wear. Her sails a bit dirty and tattered around the edges. Soot from the melted snow covered her decks. But she was still afloat, and really, that was the best he could have hoped for.

 He did his routine checks, making sure that she was sailable before pushing off, letting the gentle breeze guide her out to sea. He made it about a mile out, just able to still make out the apexes of the ships moored near his spot, and waited. For what exactly he wasn’t sure, but still, he waited for nearly an hour. 

 The time that passed could only be described as unremarkable. No oddities happening around the boat, no spooky sounds, and no ethereal visions. She was just a boat like any other and just as before, he’d imagined the whole thing. 

 After bringing her in and properly tying her up, he went to work on setting her to rights. Scrubbing the decks, replacing the frayed ropes, and tending to the sails. The headsail was easily salvageable, but the mainsail needed replacing after leaving it half rolled up. Water and dirt settling in the loose packing, icing over and weighing against it. He knew better, but he’d been in such a state that he hadn’t cared at the time.. He’d have to order a new one before he set out again.

 Having eased his mind a bit, the next week went by for Killian in a blur. He’d ordered the new sail as soon as he’d arrived home, and luckily the company he’d purchased from was local to Boston and agreed to let him pick it up directly from their store rather than having it shipped.

 Liam seemed a bit shocked at Killian’s previous reluctance to sail, but seemed even more surprised by his sudden determination to start up again. While he didn’t offer to go sailing with Killian again, he did insist that Killian call him before setting sail and after returning just to know that everything was ok. 

 For his part, Killian agreed, still not having told his brother of his previous difficulties with the lack of wind, nor of the ghoul he’d seen onboard. Not that it mattered much as it had all been a figment of his imagination. A haunted nightmare caused by the trauma of his past.

 As Saturday approached, Killian found himself excited for the first time in months. He’d planned a trip to Nantucket Island. He’d never been there but by all accounts it was a lovely little place. It was the Brant Point Lighthouse that had really caught his attention though. Online, it was the quintessential image of New England, and he wanted to see it in person. 

 By his estimations, it was roughly a three hour trip, a tidbit that only caused him to second guess his plan for a few minutes as the theme song to Giligan’s Island played in his head. 

  A three hour tour…

 Once he’d reclaimed a better hold over his sanity though, he finished planning his exact route, making sure to send a copy of his plans off to Liam, just in case.

 He woke up early that morning, ready to replace the mainsail himself before setting off. There was still a bite in the air that left him searching for a sweater and his trusty leather jacket. The one Liam had gifted him just before his first assignment. He even grabbed the gold compass locket from the drawer he’d hid it in after his scare, not having wanted anything around at the time to remind him of that event. Now though, knowing that he’d imagined it all, he felt it only proper to wear it for his first true journey on The Jolly.

 It was dark when he arrived to the marina, only the very first hint of light breaking over the horizon. It took longer than expected to get the old sail off, the fabric having fused to the lines over the past months. He’d had to cut some parts off, letting his hook do most of the work while his other hand just followed behind, pulling at the tattered scraps. Eventually the sun rose, the morning light turning from red to orange to yellow. 

 The sky filled with the lightest shades of blue as he worked on installing the new sail. He was just about finished tying off the last of it when he felt something, a shadow pass over him. Checking the sky above him, he found no clouds. Just an empty blue sky. He closed his eyes, willing his mind not to fail him again, to seize control over himself. But when he opened them again, the shadow was still there. A woman’s silhouette framed in the mainsail he’d just attached. Her hand pressed against it as if she was reaching out to him. 

 He swallowed thickly, willing the figure to go away, but it didn’t. He froze once again, waiting for it to pass, mentally repeating the mantra his therapist had given him for just such occasions, but no matter how long he waited, the shadow remained.

  “Who..who’s there?”

 He waited for what seemed like an eternity before he heard it again. The anguished cries, this time less distorted, but just as upsetting.

 “Get out!”

 That time he didn’t freeze; He didn’t wait for it to disappear. No. That time he ran as fast as his legs could carry him, despite cries from other people milling around yelling at him to slow down. He got in his truck and drove home just as quickly as he could, locking the door behind him and grabbing a bottle of rum he’d stashed in the cabinet above his freezer.

 Everything after that was a bit hazy. The next morning he woke to find he’d texted Liam, telling him he was sick and would be out the whole next week. Something he didn’t remember having done.

 He spent the entirety of Sunday held up in his apartment, watching bad cable tv programming, hiding from the world. Eight binge hours later, somewhere between Snapped and Homicide Hunter, Killian had a realization. If the spooks only ever happened on the boat, naturally, it stood that it must have been related to whatever happened before he bought The Jolly. It likely happened to the previous owner and that’s why he got such a deal on her.

 He had to wait until the next day to contact Ariel’s Antiquities. They were insistent that the info they’d given him before was accurate. That the ship was repossessed from the previous owner for non-payment, but when pressed for details on the who the previous owner, they dodged his questions. Something just didn’t feel right. More determined than ever to uncover the truth, Killian turned to the internet, hoping that perhaps the original owner had registered the ship somewhere. His search of Boston and greater Massachusetts provided nothing. Eventually he stumbled on a national website that guaranteed to prove a comprehensive history report for only twenty dollars. Fortyfive dollars if he wanted addresses as well.

 And that was how Killian found himself spending an indecent amount of money on a website called The Hulltruth. It took about thirty minutes before the report was emailed to him, but when it came in, he found that the boat was registered in Storybrooke, Maine and reported missing. The rest of the report was limited, just telling him that the boat hadn’t been in any previous accidents. No address, no name. Just that she was missing.

 Of course he’d allowed himself into being swindled. Who else was lucky enough to purchase a stolen boat but him? With his full wrath backing him, Killian found the auction house’s office address and stormed there, ready to raise hell over his stolen second hand haunted boat. Surprisingly, he wasn’t the only person there airing a grievance. 

 A woman was there, arguing with one of the auction curators. As it turned out, the first edition one of a kind copy of Her Handsome Hero was not the two hundred year old book the house had promised. It was actually a well crafted replica. Despite the letter from an expert that the young woman had brought with her, the staff declared that all sales were final and sent her on her way. Killian wasn’t discouraged though, knowing he had the law on his side. 

 It took time, and there were threats made, but Killian finally discovered that the Jewel of the Realm had been found off the remote coast of Kittery Point, Maine by one of the auction house’s salvagers. Apparently a number of the items sold there under than label of authentic antiques were actually salvaged on abandoned beaches. Items lost or washed to shore. 

 The auction house brought the boat back to Boston and sold it as soon as possible rather than report it as found. They tried to claim that since the boat had been abandoned, that it wasn’t technically theft. When pressed about the damage to the boat, they conceded that while the hole had been there when they found it, they were the ones that removed the guts of the boat to make it a more appealing purchase. They told him that the wood was badly stained and they didn’t want buyers poking around trying to figure out what happened. A pointed remark towards him to be sure.

 He left with no more answers, aside from the knowledge that The Jolly wasn’t stolen in the middle of the night from a different marina. Or at least so they said. Killian prided himself of behind able to read people, and while the man, Sebastian, had shown a range of emotions, he never appeared to be lying. 

 The next morning he was still unsettled, not really knowing what happened. Especially given that in her current state, the boat was unusable. He wasn’t going on it just to be frightened within an inch of his life again. The human heart could only take so much. Plus there was the added thrill of the mystery, not that he’d call what was happening a thrill in anyway.

 But he needed to know. He needed to find the previous owner, to ask them if they’d had problems too. 

 That morning Killian packed up his car and headed up interstate ninety five, ready to get his answers. The report he’d bought didn’t have an address, but considering that there was a missing boat report, the local sheriff's station seemed like a good place to start. He’d spent the three hour drive coming up with a cover story. Telling them he’d bought the missing boat wouldn’t accomplish anything. They would simply seize it from him and then cut him out.

 So instead he decided it would be best if he claimed to be a reporter, working on a story about a string of boat thefts along the northern coastline. That he was trying to see if they were connected. He’d even gone so far as to look for missing boats online while he stopped for gas. He thought of everything, was prepared for every eventuality, except for the one he got.

 Storybrooke was a small quaint town. There were a few people milling about, but as he pulled up to the station, he found himself to be the only car in the parking lot. Slightly worried that he’d find the station locked up, he was surprised that the door was in fact unlocked. The building was small, just a short hallway separating the outside from a large room housing three empty desks. Along the back wall there were two holding cells, also empty. The place seemed to be deserted until he heard a shuffle coming from around the corner.

 “Hello?”

 “Just a sec!”

 I took a moment, but eventually a tall blonde man in jeans and a button down appeared, offering him a handshake. He introduced himself as David Nolan, town sheriff. Killian gave him the reporter backstory and asked if he had some time to talk. He noticed the way the man stiffened a bit as they walked to his office, but the man made no comment. Just led him into another room where he offered him a seat across the desk from his own.

 Killian started out vague, just talking about how he was an investigative reporter out of Boston, where they’d experienced a string of boat thefts recently, and he wanted to see if they were in any way related to an uptick of reports stretching through Maine. When he was done, there was nothing but silence as Sheriff Nolan simply looked down at his desk, his hand grabbing a photo frame and clutching it closer to his chest. 

 In time, with a wrecked voice, the man finally spoke. 

 “The report you’re asking about. It wasn’t a boat theft.”

 “Come again? The report listed it as missing.”

 “There’s more than one way a boat can disappear Mr. Jones.” The sheriff gave him a sad smile, passing over the photo. It was a picture of him with another woman. “Her name is Emma. Was Emma.”

 Over the next twenty minutes Sheriff Nolan explained to Killian that Emma, a beautiful woman, was his sister. His adopted sister, but family none-the-less. She was a family lawyer in Boston, specializing in divorces and custody issues. 

 Emma’s job was extremely stressful, angry parents, threatening phone calls, so on the weekends she’d sail up the coast to Storybrooke to visit family. The alone time allowed her to decompress. To let the weight of the world fall from her shoulders.

 About a year and a half earlier, just around the same time Killian found himself waking up in the hospital, Emma disappeared. It was a holiday weekend and she’d come up to visit her brother and sister in law. She’d stayed with them for a few days before packing up and heading back. The sheriff explained how he’d begged her to stay for one more day, that there was a storm coming, but Emma had insisted that she’d be ahead of it. That nothing would happen.

 And no one ever saw her again. The ship had disappeared too and the assumption was that she’d been caught in the storm and been lost to the sea. They’d searched for weeks, David calling in every favor he could think of, but for all of the searching they never found Emma or The Jewel. The case still remained open, but only as a technicality. 

 The drive home, all Killian could think about was David, and how much pain he was in. He’d wanted to comfort the man, to tell him that his sister’s boat had been found just down the shoreline, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t risk losing The Jolly before he’d figured out what happened, and more than that, he couldn’t risk giving David false hope. Not after he’d seen the photograph. The flowing blonde hair, emerald eyes. Not when he knew that the woman in that photograph was the same thing that kept appearing to him.

 When he got home, the first thing he did was look up Emma on the internet. She was in fact a family lawyer at Goldman and Mills, a prestigious firm based in Boston. By all accounts she was sharp, with a high success rate. Most of the hits he found were news reports from some of her higher profile cases. 

 Finally, on page three of his search, he found an article from the Storybrooke Mirror about her disappearance. It was just as the sheriff had said. The working theory was that something had gone horribly wrong and she’d most likely tipped and sank during the storm, too far off the coast, it was assumed that Emma sunk with the ship. All of which would explain why she was now haunting the Jolly. 

 He wasn’t crazy. His mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. 

 But he did have a haunted ship to deal with.

 He waited until Thursday to return to The Jolly, giving himself two full days to build his courage. The plan was to stay ashore, unsure of what might happen. He was ready to confront Emma, or whatever it was that looked like her, but he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to get through to her, or if she was just a demonic apparition, tied to the boat forever. He really shouldn’t have researched spirits.

 The marina was empty when he arrived. Most people were at work or already gone for the day. He supposed that may have been for the best. Killian’s ego was bruised enough without a large portion of Boston watching him scream like a young girl.

 The Jolly seemed just as empty as it had when he’d bought her, but by now he knew better. She was there, somewhere, lurking. He just wasn’t sure how to reach her. There’d never been one thing that seemed to spark her arrival. The first time he’d been stuck at sea, and the second, he’d been docked simply replacing the mainsail.

 “Emma?” Nothing “Emma Swan?”

 Still, nothing happened, so he waited, taking a seat on the deck. He waited, and waited, her ghostly form never appearing. Not until the moment the locket slipped out from behind his button up shirt.

 “That’s mine!”

 He looked up to find her, Emma, before him, hovering above a wooden plank, a small puddle of water filling the deck below her.

 “Get out!”

 She said the same words just as before, but this time it was different. Gone where the unearthly voices he’d heard echoing around him. Instead, it was just one voice. Just her.

 “Are you Emma Swan?”

 He watched as her head tilted to the side, a glimmer of recognition at the name filling her wide eyes. Then fear. Unabating fear.

 “Help me!”

 That was all she said before she collapsed onto the deck, her form turned into a cloud of smoke, blowing away into the wind leaving behind only the puddle of water. He waited for hours after that, but she never appeared again. 

 He went home, discouraged. He had no idea how to summon her. Not that he necessarily had any idea of what he was trying to accomplish. Did he want to help her move on? Did he just need to find out what happened so he could give David Nolan some closure. Did he just want his ship back?

 That night he tried to answer those questions. While it would be nice to have The Jolly ghost free, it was something more than that. He felt drawn to it, to her in a way. Finally, as he tossed and turned in bed, he realized what it was. She was in pain, just as he so often was, and while he couldn’t fully mend himself, he might be able to help her. To ease her burden in a way.

 The next morning, he went down to the docks first thing, calling for her just as he had before. Met with silence once more, he sat, trying to mull over what could possibly help him. Thinking back on his research, some people claimed that spirits were attracted to objects, but the only object he could see Emma being attached to was the boat herself. There was nothing else left on the ship that belonged to her. 

 Nothing except the locket.

 It was the first thing she’d mentioned the day before, claiming it was hers. He reached below the collar of his shirt, feeling for the chain and slowly pulling until the gold locket was fully exposed. But still, she did not appear. Desperate, he clutched the charm in his hand and chanted her name.

 “I told you, that’s mine!”

 She sounded less angry that time. Less confused as well as her feet seemed to actually touch the deck. 

 “Aye. I found it while I was repairing the boat.”

 He did his best to keep his voice low and calm, not wishing to frighten her away. 

 “Repairs?”

 “Yes. I had to replace the mast.” He watched as she scrunched her nose. “Do you remember what broke it?”

 Her entire form stiffened, her chest heaving. “No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.”

 “Emma, it’s alright. You’re safe here.”

 “Please” She just looked at him with desperation as her hand moved to her stomach. “It hurts so bad. Make it stop.”

 Drip. Drip. Drip. He heard it before he saw it, but blood began to flow down her ivory sundress, covering the deck of The Jolly. Killian leapt to his feet, trying to help her staunch the bleeding but before he could get there, she was gone, and the wood planks were dry, as if nothing had happened.

 He went out every day for the rest of the week, never taking the boat to sea, but always waiting for Emma, summoning her with the necklace. She only ever stayed for seconds to minutes, but each time she became a little more aware that something was wrong. 

 As Monday came though, he found himself stuck at work late, night after night. Dinner parties with potential clients. Drinks to celebrate newly signed clients. Liam’s company and his position kept him too busy to go down to the docks at all that week.

 It wasn’t until Saturday that he was able to see her again. This time he took the boat out to sea, hoping that maybe a change of scenery might help to bridge the gap between wherever Emma was and the here and now. Once he was about two miles out he held the compass in the palm of his hand, calling to her once more. She came to him immediately, with more solidity than ever before. He spoke with her for a while, telling her who he was. When she vanished that time it was calmly. No screams of pain, no violence, no fright. Just peacefully.

 He took the boat back to shore, tying her up properly. He’d promised Liam and Elsa he’d spend the day with them Sunday. Liam had started to worry about him after he took the week off of work, and he knew that if he didn’t concede to family time, Liam would start poking around. He wasn’t ready to explain it to his brother yet.

  Yes, Liam. I’ve been spending all of my free time trying to talk to the ghost that lives on my boat.

 That would have gone over marvelously.

 So another week passed in full before he was able to see Emma again. Every time he saw her she was able to stay a little longer. To talk a little more. They hadn’t addressed the elephant in the room, sticking to safe topics instead. Her job. His job. She told him about some of her more eclectic clients, always using the present tense. He told her about the cougar he’d had to wine and dine the weekend before. He wasn’t sure how much control she had over herself and he didn’t want to risk upsetting her again.

 Months passed, each weekend spent as sea. It was nice, just being able to talk to someone so openly. She never seemed to judge him. In time, he found himself rather vexed by her. She had witt and spunk. Just a little bit prickly but in a good way. A kindred soul.

 It was a warm July morning when it happened.

 “Killian?”

 “Yes, love?”

 He wasn’t sure when he’d started using the term of endearment around her, but she’d never objected to it.

 “I’m dead, aren’t I?”

 He nearly choked on his coffee, not expecting it in the slightest. She’d been so upbeat for the past few weeks, as if she’d had no cares in the world. He never would have guessed that she’d been considering her mortality.

 “How long have you known?” 

 “Since the beginning maybe? I don’t know. I can just feel it, like I don’t belong here.”

 His heart broke for her. He couldn’t imagine the feeling of knowing that her life was over. That everything was finished in a way, but that she was still stuck.

 They didn’t speak. Just stood together in silence watching the horizon. His hand slid closer to hers, his pinky reaching out to caress her hand, but instead he just moved right through her. If she didn’t know before, there was no way she didn’t now.

 Emma didn’t come to him the next day. Somehow he knew that she was in mourning, that she needed time for herself. It made his heart break all over. He felt for her in a way he hadn’t felt for someone in a long time. Not since Milah. 

 It was a week before he went out again, this time bringing flowers with him. She couldn’t keep them, but he hoped it would be nice for her just to see them. To know they were for her. She was solemn when she appeared. Not surprising given the state of things. 

 The two of them exchanged pleasantries and spent the day just soaking each other in, not speaking more than a few words here and there. It was nice in a way, but he craved more. 

 She enchanted him.

 “Killian?”

 “Yes?”

 “May I ask what happened to your hand?”

 It was another question he wasn’t prepared for. It was somehow easier and harder to answer. Something he never talked about with anyone, but something he found himself willing to share with her. So she could know him better in a way.

 So he told her. He told her how he was a lieutenant in the Royal Navy. How he’d risen through the ranks, dedicated his entire life to the service of his country. Of how he’d been on a routine training mission that went horribly wrong. The mine field they were doing maneuvers through was supposed to be dead, all a simulation. But one of the mines was live, and the ship exploded. He woke up in the hospital after spending an entire night clinging for dear life to a barrel. His hand was gone and so was his career. That he had night terrors and had to see a therapist because he’d lost his hold on reality.

 He left out the part about his girlfriend being so disgusted by the stump that she left him, that she took a transfer just to get away from him. 

 When he looked at Emma again, he expected to see pity in her eyes, but there was none. She just gave him a nod of understanding. 

 They watched birds fly by. The sun moved from one side of the sky to the other. Just a peaceful silence, until she spoke again.

 “I think I was murdered.”

 “That’s not what everyone said happened. The newspapers, they said it was the storm.”

 “There was a storm, but I remember a man too. It’s hazy, like an old dream. But he was there, below deck, hiding I think. I- I went down below and he was there. I remember screaming at him to get out, but he didn’t.”

 She continued to recount the details she could remember, or that she thought she remembered. Her memories of that night where muddled and she didn’t know how much of it was true.

 The man below deck was familiar, but she couldn’t quite remember what his face looked like. He smelled of wood, or maybe it was just the boat that did. She remembered being attacked, thrown against the hull, hearing a crack. There was a fight, she tried her best to fend him off, but it wasn’t enough. She remembered being thrown against the fiberglass again and again, hearing the hull fail. Glass from a mirror slicing through her stomach. The rest was a blur for her. The man was gone, and she tried to climb to the deck but her body was broken. She made it to the radio, but there was only static. Water began to fill the cabin, and it took everything she had to force herself up, to pull herself above deck as the storm raged on. Each droplet of water that fell feeling like acid against her battered skin. She told him how she held on as long as she could, and that was it. That was all she remembered. 

 She’d been murdered, just like she said. It explained the damage to the hull, why the mast had snapped, the stains on the wood the auction house had removed. 

 He had nothing to say. No words to offer her. His problems were nothing in comparison. Someone had taken her life, with purpose and malice. And now she was trapped in two worlds, belonging in neither, unable to move on. 

 He wished nothing more in that moment than to hold her. To be able to wrap his arms around her and block out all of the pain. To take away her sorrow and to give her hope. To let her know she didn’t deserve to die that way. That she didn’t deserve any of it. 

 But he couldn’t. He couldn’t do any of that. She wasn’t really there. She wasn’t solid. He’d never be able to so much as hold her hand. 

 A knife through his heart. 

 And that’s when he realized the true depths of his feelings for Emma. He was in love with her. He was in love with a ghost.

 And all he could do was to be her friend. Her confidant. 

 “Where do you go when you aren’t here?”

 It was a question that had plagued him since the beginning of their friendship, and while he was afraid to hear the answer, he needed to know that she was safe when he wasn’t there.

 “Nowhere?” She turned her head up towards the top of the mast. “I think I just stop existing.”

 That wasn’t the answer he was looking for. He was glad that she wasn’t in some realm being tortured but the idea of her just being gone? That was almost as bad. He went home that night thinking of her. Of what it would be like.

 He knew. He didn’t want to admit it, not when his feelings for her had grown so strong, but he was being selfish, calling her back to a world where she was nothing more than an apparition over and over. He needed to let her go. To help her find a way to move on. He just didn’t know how, short of finding her killer.

 She remembered nothing about the man though, only that he was a man. And Killian had no experience in investigating murders. It was a dead end.

 He continued to think on it all week at work, even through the weekend. He didn’t go out on The Jolly that weekend, or even the next, still debating if it was more cruel to leave Emma alone, or to force her to face her death again and again. 

 August passed, and into September. Still he stayed away, unable to torture Emma any more than he already had. It wasn’t until someone at work had brought up the fight she’d had with her boyfriend, how he always made the decisions for her, that he realized that was exactly what he’d done. He’d never bothered to ask Emma what she wanted. He just assumed that it was worse for her when she was with him. 

 That was enough to ignite a flame under him. He left work early, driving out to the docks. The sky was scattered with clouds but there was still enough light out for a quick trip to sea. 

 He didn’t bother with his usually checklist or sending Liam a text on where he was going, too eager to see her face again. To talk to her and find out just what she wanted. To ask how he could help her, if she even wanted help.  

 The wind had picked up significantly from the time he’d left, sending him out farther than he’d planned, but he didn’t care. Not when all he could think of was Emma. The sky a bit more grey now, a slight shower starting. 

 “Emma? Are you here?”

 He waited, clutching the compass so hard the metal around his neck snapped. He’d ripped the chain. 

 “You broke it.”

 She was annoyed, but he honestly couldn’t tell if it was from the jewelry or from him having abandoned her. 

 “I, I’m sorry. I’ll replace it as soon as I get back to land.”

 He wanted to talk to her, but she was too focused.

 “My brother gave me that when I started at my firm. He was worried I’d become a corporate stooge. He gave it to me so that I’d never get lost.”

  So you always find your way.

 “I’m so sorry, Emma.” 

 “You can’t replace it.”

 Killian wanted to cry, to scream, to go back in time and meet her before any of this started. But he’d never been a lucky man that way.

 He held his hand out, watching as small drops of water fell into the gold face. Emma walked over, letting her fingers graze over the metal. It was different that time, he could feel the weight of her hand. She didn’t simply pass through him. He watched as she took the compass in her hand, solid as could be. 

 “Swan?”

 Her head snapped up at him, completely unaware that she was real enough to hold an object.

 He reached out, letting his knuckles caress her face. He could feel the warmth of her skin. She was real. He didn’t know how, but she was real. 

 “Killian? How? How is this possible?”

 He didn’t know, and he didn’t care. He nuzzled his forehead against her own, their lips only a hair’s width apart. When she didn’t pull back, he leaned in, softly pressing his mouth to hers. Just a peck. Her lips were soft. He tried to pull back but her arms wrapped around his neck, holding him tightly. 

 They may as well have kissed for an eternity. He loved the feeling of being lost in her, not caring that the light sprinkle had turned into a full on downpour. That his clothes were soaking wet. Lighting flashed, illuminating the sky, and thunder crackled above them.

 But he didn’t care. Not with Emma in his arms.

 They broke apart finally, Emma’s laugh filling the air. 

 “Emma Swan. I’m in love with you.”

 He hadn’t meant to just blurt the words out. Hadn’t meant to say them at all, but his mouth seemed to have a mind of its own. Forever passed as he waited for her to say something. Anything.

 “Killian,” there was sorrow, and he knew she wasn’t going to return his feelings. “It’s not fair to you. I’m a ghost, and I can’t control anything. You, you deserve so much more than I can give you!”

 “But you’re here. I can feel you clear as I can feel my heart beating in my chest.”

 She wasn’t there though. She could sense it even if he couldn't. There was a pull on her still, from whatever place she’d come from. Even in solid form, she didn’t belong there.

 Lightening and thunder filled the sky once more, darkness all around them.

 “Killian, it’s not safe out here, you need to go.”

 He looked around, realizing for the first time just how far out the wind had blown him, would continue to blow him if he didn’t stow the sails. Emma helped his as best she could, but with the waves now throwing the boat back and forth, they had trouble controlling their movements. 

 The Jolly was still heading in the wrong direction though. Killian felt fairly confident that he could weather the storm below deck, waiting for it to pass, but the growing waves continued to batter the boat and Emma pleaded with him not to stay. Begging him to return to land. He caved, heading to the back of the boat to start up SMEE, but no matter how hard he tried, the motor wouldn’t budge. 

 Unable to do anything else, Killian headed back to the cabin, trying to call for help, but the radio wouldn't work either. It was just static on every channel. As he hit the main box, sparks flew into the air. The Jolly swayed from side to side, getting closer and closer to tipping each time. 

 They both went back above deck to see just how bad the storm was. There was only darkness as far as the eye could see. They were trapped. He was trapped. 

 Dead in the water.

 “Emma, love, I have some life vests stowed in one of the front compartments. Go grab them and I’ll try the radio again.”

 “No.”

 “What?”

 She stood at the rail, closing her eyes and breathing it all in, calm for the first time since the storm had started.

 “It’s me.”

 “I don’t understand. Just go get the life vests. We’re going to be okay.”

 “No, Killian. It’s me. All of this. The faulty electronics, The storm. I don’t understand it, but I can just feel it. It’s, I feel it in my bones.”

 “No. No. Emma-”

 “Killian, you have to let me go. It’s the only way.”

 “But I just got you. I don’t know how to let you go.”

 She smiled at him, a sad heart wrenching smile and gave him a light kiss. 

 “It’s ok.” She held out the compass. “I think I can find my way now.”

 It was the locket.

 The thing that she was tethered to. It had never been The Jolly. The boat had simply been a means for her to stay and find it. 

 “I don’t know how to do this without you.”

 “You’ll find a way.” She gave him one last kiss. “I love you too.”

 And with that, she turned back into a vision, a veil between them. One last flash of light and she was gone.

 Just as she’d said, as soon as she left the boat sprung back to life. The motor revving behind him. The waves continued to beat against the hull of the ship. He was frozen, his heart torn to shreds. But he couldn’t let that be the end. He couldn’t let her have died, again, in vain, so he pulled himself together. He used the motor to push him through, steering himself back towards land, any land.

 He was lost after that. Spending days in bed, unable to get up, to do anything but cry. Her absence haunted him in a way she never had. Loneliness followed him. Emptiness filled him. Weeks went by. Liam did his best to get Killian out of the house, to bring him back to life. He knew his brother was worried, but he just didn’t have it in him to care anymore.

 With time though the sting, still there became just a little less. The pain in his heart became a little more manageable. Everything just became less in a way, less and more. He made it out of bed. He had dinner with Liam. He even was able to go back to work. 

 He still felt her loss, but it got easier. However something still tugged at him. An inkling that something wasn’t quite finished. He was in pain, but at least he had closure. Emma did too, but her family didn’t. They still didn’t know what happened to her. 

 He debated on the best way to tell them, how to give David the details without including the part where he fell in love with the man’s sister’s ghost. Eventually, he decided that it would be best to do it over the phone. That way he could control the conversation.

 He waited until just after noon on a Monday, calling the Sheriff’s station in Storybrooke, hearing the familiar voice of David Nolan pick up. He didn’t give David his name, just that he had information of the disappearance of Emma Swan. That her boat had been found by a company named Ariel’s Antiquities. That the auction house had destroyed all of the evidence on the boat so they could sell it. 

 David tried interrupting him, asking how he knew any of it, but Killian pushed through, finally giving the man the most important part, telling David that he was sorry, but that Emma had been murdered by a man familiar to her. He apologized for not being able to give him more information and then he hung up.

 He could only hope that it was enough to give David some form of peace. That maybe it would be easier to know for sure that she was gone. Because sometimes the cruelest thing in the world was hope.

 Time continued to pass. The pain in his heart turned to an ache. He still missed her deeply and thought of her often, but she’d given him something. She’d healed him, and nothing could take that away. It had taken him a while to realize it, to accept her loss. But her death didn’t negate the fact that she’d brought him back to life, and everyday he thanked her for that. Choosing to focus on the good rather than the bad.

  A year had passed. Exactly three hundred and sixty five days without her. His plan was to head to Robin’s and have one drink in Emma’s memory before heading to the docks to take the Jolly out. She was still there, a part of her in those old wood planks. He could feel her warmth in every inch of that old boat.

 Robin’s was overcrowded though, so he skipped the drink. Emma didn’t need an alcoholic toast. So he headed straight to the Jolly instead, stepping out of the pub’s doors just before the headlines changed, the little ticker tape running across the screen blocking the bottom of the Man United pitch. 

   Woman found alive on Kittery Beach after missing for over three years.

 He missed the headlines again when he decided to stay out just a little longer, wanting to watch the sun sink below the horizon. He missed it one more time too when his phone rang. An unknown number from Storybrooke, Maine.

 He’d almost let it go to voicemail, worrying that it was David Nolan, having discovered it was him that called all of those months before. But something in his gut pushed him to answer.

 It took a second for a voice to sound on the other line after he answered, but when it did, he nearly dropped the phone.

 “Killian?”

[elisaphoenix13]

Trigger The Light (Ch.4)

The small quantum tunnel that Scott had wouldn't be enough, so Tony started building a larger one with Scott's help as they waited for the rest of the team to arrive. Quill helped as well, but he just did the heavy lifting while Tony and Scott handled the engineering. Not that he had much choice. The moment Tony announced they were going to build a bigger tunnel, he looked at Quill and told him he was helping because he was 'freakishly strong' for a powerless god hybrid.

Quill was pretty sure there was an insult in there somewhere.

"Flash Gordon, come lift this will you?" Tony calls from the skeletal structure of the tunnel.

Quill sighs. "Sure why not."

He walks over and helps lift a panel for the billionaire to weld and distracts himself by looking around the large room. It was pretty empty since most of the others were out gathering the rest of their team members from all corners of the world, but Steve and Scott were still there. The captain was busy getting lunch together for everyone's imminent arrival, and Scott was sitting on a table fiddling with a circuit board in his lap. Quill quickly discovered that the younger thief had a tendency to puff out his cheeks when he got frustrated or annoyed with something he was working on, and he thought it was adorable. The pout that followed was just icing on the cake. Quill never thought he would look at another man and think any little things he did would be adorable. Sure, he's appreciated a man here and there, but Scott was a whole new ballgame...he had this unexplainable urge to protect him.

He can protect himself, Quill firmly reminds himself. He knew that, yet, a part of him refused to accept that. Was it maybe because Scott was Cassie's father? He was protective of her so maybe it was rolling over to Scott...but that wouldn't make sense because he was protective of Diana as well and he didn't have the urge to protect Tony. In fact. His mind was pretty content to leave the billionaire to his own devices.

For the most part.

He didn't want Diana to lose her dad too.

"Alright. You can let go now." Tony interrupts Quill's thoughts and they both move away from the panel. "Hey Stuart Little! How's that board coming?"

"Just a second!" Scott shouts. After a little more fiddling, he lifts the circuit board from his lap, hops off the table, and walks over to them. "I had to rewire some things but it's good to go now."

"Good. I'll get this wired in with the rest." Tony climbs back through the skeletal structure as Steve walks into the room with a single white bag and holds it up.

"Soup's on!"

Quill snorts. "That's not going to feed all of us."

"Of course not. The rest is in the kitchen." Steve throws the bag at Quill and the pirate barely manages to hold it to his chest. Scott grabs the bag from him and looks through it with a growing smile. "You got tacos!"

Quill snatches the bag from him and holds it up out of the younger's reach. "Those are all mine."

"Do not test me when it comes to tacos Spaceman!"

"Or what?" Quill taunts.

Something he instantly regretted because Scott proceeded to punch him in the ribs. Quill groans and hunches over to clutch at complaining muscles and the thief grabs the now lowered bag. He grabs a couple of tacos before handing the bag back to Quill and smirks at the older man before striding away with his food. The punch didn't hurt that bad, but it would definitely make Quill think twice in the future. Hopefully there would be a future whether or not Scott remained just a friend.

"He did warn you." Tony points out. "Leave a couple of those on the table for me will you? Go eat with your boyfriend."

Quill turns and glares at the engineer. "He's not-I'm going to throw them at you and you can eat them off the floor asshole!"

"Chill Porcupine. Not everyone knows about your little crush on him."

Quill sighs heavily and pulls a couple of tacos out of the bag and sets them on the table per Tony's request before walking away.

"Yet."

The pirate ignores Tony as he hears the unmistakable sounds of his ship, walks out to the back, and watches with sympathy when Rhodey lands in front of Scott and scares the man of his lunch. Just from where Scott was sitting, Quill was sure part of the tacos were blown away by the ship as it landed. To think the younger went to such lengths to get his food and then have them blown away.

He pulls another two out of the bag he's holding and hands them to Scott, and just when he sits down and pulls out the three leftover, he freezes. There were two ships sitting on the field, and one of them he was sure had been abandoned on a planet years ago. Half of it had been missing then, but now it was sitting thirty yards away, and in one piece.

"No way." Quill gasps out and Scott gives him a look from beside him.

Rocket steps onto the grass and looks between Quill and the second, smaller ship. "You're just now seeing that? It's been here for the past year."

The pirate abandons his tacos on the bench next to Scott and jogs over to The Milano with a look of awe as he looks it over. Quill honestly thought he would never see it again. When it had been abandoned, he considered it gone because there was no doubt some junkers would come across it and strip it of anything valuable, but it was there. When he went inside, he found that almost everything was still there.

"You're welcome Starmunch!" Rocket calls from outside the ship.

Quill would thank him later, even if he did call him Starmunch. He'd call him a trash panda and call it even anyway. He was too busy getting himself reacquainted with his ship right now.

"I was nice enough not to eat these perfectly good tacos you left behind. Monster." Scott says from the mouth of the ship before stepping in further and handing the food over to Quill.

"Right. Food. Thanks." Quill replies absently as he sits at the table.

Scott stands nearby as Quill sits back in his chair and throws his feet up onto the table, and he unwraps his taco to take a bite. It was polished off in the span of a minute and Quill only slowed down halfway through his second before looking up at Scott. He wipes his lower lip free of sauce with his thumb and sucks it off as the younger looks around and then raises an eyebrow in question when the thief looks down at him.

"So...what's so special about this ship?" He asks. "Isn't the other one yours?"

"Yeah, but everyone uses that one. This is mine. It always has been from the beginning. Memories...you know?" Scott nods and Quill finishes his second taco before continuing. "We had to abandon it on a planet after we crashed."

"It couldn't be fixed?"

Quill pauses his unwrapping of his third taco, and shrugs before resuming and taking a bite. It was then he told the story of his heritage. How he found his father, what said father planned to do, and how they had to kill Ego to keep him from taking over the universe. Scott sat in the chair next to him as Quill rambled, and remained quiet throughout the whole story. In the back of his mind, Quill wondered if Scott actually cared or if he was just being considerate and letting the powerless celestial air out his laundry. The second thought had Quill's heart clenching.

But Scott surprised him.

"You're sure you don't have those powers anymore?" He asks and Quill nods.

"Yeah. I watched the light in my hands disappear. And yes, I've tried just to make sure." He says when Scott opens his mouth. "Nothing. Except maybe the strength and possible longevity." Quill finally finishes his lunch and looks up at the roof of his ship.

"Do you miss space?" The man beside him asks quietly.

"Not like I thought I would." Quill admits. "My father figure died because of Ego, and Thanos was kind of the last straw for me. Drax, Mantis, Groot...they're gone because of these damn stones...and he killed Gamora for one of them. She was my best friend...and I thought I loved her, but…" He trails off and Scott tilts his head curiously.

"But what?"

"Well, looking back after recent events, I realized it wasn't romantic love. She was just a good friend." Quill huffs in amusement. "It's probably a good thing. She yelled at me a lot so that wouldn't have been a healthy relationship. She deserved better than me."

"You shouldn't sell yourself short. Anyone would be lucky to have you." Scott reassures him and Quill stretches as he drops his feet to the floor with a thunk.

"Yeah, well, if you know anyone, be sure to send them my way." The pirate says with a chuckle as he stands. "Want a tour?"

Scott gave him an unreadable look for a few moments before it morphs into a smile and he stands up as well. Quill shows him around both the Milano as well as the larger ship, and he slips into the captain's quarters to grab a few things before Rocket took the ship out again. Specifically the first mixtape his mother had given him. Unfortunately, Ego had destroyed the second one along with his walkman, but he missed listening to the first one. Now that he had the Milano back, he could listen to it again. He didn't have much faith that Tony had something sitting around that would play the tape because the man was too advanced.

"You really were out of touch if that's what you've been listening to for thirty years." Scott comments from the doorway. 

"It's literally the last thing I have left from my mother. I had no way of listening to it until now."

Quill passes by Scott and motions for the other man to follow him as he walks back to the Milano, and then walks straight for the cassette player built into the ship. He pops the tape in and presses play, and quickly loses himself in the familiar music when it starts up. Even after thirty years of endlessly listening to the same songs over and over again, he never got sick of it. It was nice to have a few happy memories returned to him.

When a slower song comes on, Quill turns to Scott and smirks. "Dance with me."

Scott scrunches his nose. "It's a slow song."

"And?" Quill grabs Scott's hand and pulls him closer. "I'll even lead."

"I'm capable of leading-"

"Nope. Too bad. I'm taller and older." The pirate quips and grins when Scott scowls up at him.

"Be careful Spaceman. People will start to think you're flirting with me."

Quill's heart jumps up into his throat but he swallows it down when Scott allows the older man to lead them. It surprisingly didn't take very long for the pair to fall into an easy rhythm, and Quill barely noticed how easily they moved around the open area of the ship they were dancing in. He noticed just enough to remember what his mother told him as a child.

Dancing is an exercise of trust. The easier you move, the more your partner trusts you.

He had no idea if it was true, but he still liked the idea that Scott trusted him. That they flowed around so smoothly because the younger thief trusted that Quill wouldn't let go or knock him into anything. Maybe it was the music, the heat building up between their almost touching bodies, or even the damn near golden eyes he finally got to see when Scott made eye contact...Quill didn't know. But something gave him the courage to open his mouth and whisper three words that had those golden eyes widening.

"Maybe I am."

He tilts his head down in what seemed like slow motion and he hears the moment Scott sucks in a breath. He wasn't pulling away or pushing Quill away so he took that as permission to proceed. When Quill was a hair's breadth away from kissing Scott, a shout had them jumping away from each other as Rhodey walks into view.

"Did you guys hear me? Tones says lunch break is over. Time to get back to work on the tunnel."

Quill rubs the back of his neck. "Sorry. Music was going and we were talking and touring the ship."

It wasn't a lie and the colonel seemed to accept it and walks away with a final warning to get back inside, and Quill looks over at Scott. Except the man was already halfway down the ramp, covering his mouth with his hand, and sporting a bright red blush that reached his ears. As soon as both Rhodey and Scott are out of sight, Quill groans and drops into the nearest chair and leans forward to bury his face in his hands. He had no idea what was going to happen now. His feelings were out in the open for Scott, and while He didn't run as Quill was making his move, he fled after the interruption. Was Scott glad nothing happened? Or was he maybe disappointed? Quill was disappointed, that was for sure.

He was so damn close.

[aelia-likes-monsters]

Monster Bang #1 for @monstersandmaw & Breez

Ghosti wanted something more about Breez, (their first date is here) so I whipped up a li’l something about meeting his Corgi, and some things that were a bit spicier. This story is rated Lime and is very handsy. ♥ 

It’s been a month since your first date with Breez. A month of not-so-subtle flirtation at the Nursery when you come by to look at new stock. A month of increasingly salacious text messages, of low-key dates that have ended in kisses that have grown more heated with each meeting of your lips.

Tonight you’re going to his place for the first time. You’re beyond excited, not just at the prospect of a home-cooked dinner and hanging out with his corgi Holly, but at the idea of what happens next. You take extra time with your grooming, and agonize for several long minutes over what to wear; something super comfy and easy to take off, or something really cute?

You pick a happy medium; a cute top that you can get off easily if things go the way you’re hoping they do, but which also looks like you’re putting effort into the date. It feels good on too, and makes you feel pretty. With your cute top, your favorite jeans, and some comfy flats, as well as a drapey jumper to ward off the evening chill, you feel ready.

You text him to let him know you’ll be there in 20, and catch a cab to his place. As you’re on the way there, your nerves kick in. They’re mostly the good kind; you’re really excited to see him, after all. But there’s that little voice that’s also blabbering on and on about the fact that you’re somehow going to ruin everything. You ignore it.

That voice lies, and you know it.

Instead, you focus on thoughts of Breez. He’s been sweet, and kind, and funny, and he is just so easy to be around. You know tonight is going to be easy because he is. He doesn’t stress you out the way other people have.

Before you know it, you’re at his home; a small house with a verdant garden in the front. He greets your tentative knock so quickly you imagine he must have been pacing just at the other side of the door. He’s wearing one of his many plant-patterned shirts; this one decorated with a subtle floral print that works well with his dark jeans.

“You’re here!” he says, pulling you into an excited hug. He smells like rosemary and mint, and you want to stay there forever.

But you can’t; there’s someone else you need to greet.

Nails scrabble against hardwood as his fluffy corgi companion comes sprinting your way. You stoop and greet her, giving her the requisite ear and butt scratches as she wiggles at you happily, dancing around both of your feet. You’ve had the honor of meeting Holly a few times now; one of your previous outings had been to a dog-friendly park with Breez and Holly, and you’d hit it off with the petite canine quickly.

“Who’s a good girl?” You ask her, stooping down to give her a few more scritches. Her butt wiggles at top speed as she wags her stumpy tail in response.

“We’re both glad you’re here,” Breez says, a soft smile on his face. “Dinner needs a bit longer in the oven, so while it finishes, perhaps I can show you around?”

“Sounds great!” You say, taking his hand, and enjoying the way he blushes in response.

The tour is quick; his house isn’t big, but it’s homey. There’s a ton of succulents in the windows that get a lot of sunshine, and ferns elsewhere in the house. His back garden is jam-packed with herbs and flowers and even a few pots of vegetables, and plenty of grass for Holly to run around on. He’s got bookshelves packed with a combination of reference books for his hobbies (not just gardening, but also cooking, baking, and painting) and novels. His living room is strewn with dog toys, which Holly has clearly loved to bits in a few cases.

Finally he brings you to the kitchen, which overlooks the back garden. You settle onto a stool at the kitchen island, and watch Breez as he finishes up with the dinner. He moves with the fluidity of someone well accustomed to cooking as he pulls a roast out of the oven, expertly draining drippings out of the pan to make a gravy. You appreciate this side of Breez as much as you’ve appreciated everything else; it’s a delight to watch him move, and the view when he bends over is quite nice.

Dinner is amazing except for one thing.

Turnips.

You try. You try so hard not to make a face when you bite into the first bit of white vegetable, thinking it’s maybe a different variety of potato. But you don’t do a good job hiding it well, and Breez notices your face.

“Is something wrong?” He asks, head cocked to one side, clearly concerned.

“I…” You don’t want to hurt his feelings. What if this is his gran’s recipe, or something like that? “I don’t like turnips?”

“Ah,” He looks relieved. “Well, more for me then. Just toss them on my plate when you find them, or shove them aside. As long as you like the roast?”

“I do.” You’re not lying about this. It’s perfectly seasoned and cooked well, and you’re loving every bite. The gravy he’s got to go with it is excellent and you think you would be happy eating his cooking every night. You squash that thought quickly; it’s too early in the relationship to let things like that run away with you. You’re hopeful, and you like Breez a lot, but thinking about eating dinner at this table every night is premature right now.

Still, as you look at him, you know you’d enjoy it.

Dessert is ice cream, eaten snuggled up on the couch as the two of you watch a movie. You don’t remember more than the first half. Shortly after the sweet treat is gone, Breez drapes one arm around you and pulls you closer. It’s not a practiced move, but it’s smooth enough, and you take it as an invitation to start a bit more if you’re interested.

So you lean up and you nibble on his ear. The noise he makes is almost pained.

“Was that bad?” You ask, alarmed. You’ve never heard anyone make a noise quite like that.

“Ah, no. Quite the opposite, actually.” He says, chuckling, and blushing brightly. “It’s uh…”

“Perhaps just a little too quick?” You realize. You’d just taken things from a slow simmer to overstimulation far too fast. You’re fighting to not get too into your head on this; you’d made a small miscalculation, not a huge error. You haven’t ruined the night.

“Something like that, though I quite enjoy it. If you keep at it, I don’t think tonight will last very long at all…” His smile is crooked. His big brown eyes are soft as he looks at you. “And I’d prefer to make a good impression.”

Breez shifts you quickly so you’re draped over his lap, and he’s leaning over you. Ever so gently he closes the distance between you and gives you a kiss, his lips are soft and sweet against yours. One of his hands cups your face, his thumb caressing your cheek. Your arms find their way around him, pulling him closer. He takes that as a cue to deepen the kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, tangling with yours. He’s gentle, but still demanding, and he responds naturally to your every cue. You nip at his lower lip, and he groans. He pulls back a little, and begins peppering little kisses across your face, moving toward your neck. There he nibbles at you, his sharp teeth causing sharp pin pricks of sensation before he kisses the tender flesh.

It’s so much. Almost too much, but it’s so good you don’t want him to stop.

Instead you reach for his ear, and gently run your finger along the edge of it. The noise he makes is somewhere between a moan and a growl, and you like it very much, so you do it again. His arms around you tighten, and he presses his face into the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

“Is that good?” You ask, knowing the answer.

“Yes.” He groans. His voice is ragged, and you love it.

One of his hands slides up under the hem of your shirt. He just teases the bare skin above your hip for a moment, giving you time to say no, to stop him. Instead, you nod. He lets out a breath you didn’t realize he was holding, and slides one work-roughened hand up your side. The feeling of his palm on your bare skin is electrifying.

Suddenly, he’s too dressed. You squirm in his lap, until you’re able to reach for the buttons of his shirt and start unfastening them as he touches your bare skin. Slowly, carefully, giving him time to stop you at any point, you undo the buttons of his floral shirt, sliding it open to reveal his muscular green chest. His hand flexes and tightens at your waist, his fingers digging into your bare skin as you touch him.

He murmurs something in Goblin when you lean in and nibble at his collarbone. If you weren’t distracted, you could probably translate it for yourself, but in the moment there are too many other things to focus on. Like tracing your hands and maybe your tongue over his pecs and abs. He’s not chiseled; Breez isn’t a gym-rat. He works hard though, and you know he’s strong. Instead, he’s that balance of muscular but slightly soft that means there’s a little bit of pudge for you to cuddle against.

And you do want to cuddle against it. Later.

Right now, you’re enjoying touching his bare skin, and the noises he’s making.

“You’re wearing too much,” he says, and gives you a wicked grin.

“Am I?” You ask, shifting so you’re straddling him, your knees digging into the sofa on either side of his hips. “Did you want me to do something about that?”

“Yes.” He grabs the hem of your shirt and starts dragging it up. It catches on your arms and hair, and he grunts in frustration. You laugh, and help him tug it off over your head. You’re very glad you’re wearing a cute bra. He seems to appreciate it, too, because the look he gives you is hungry.

Ever so slowly he runs his hands up your sides, his fingers just barely brushing your skin. It almost tickles, but it doesn’t quite. He palms your breasts through your bra, and rubs just-so, the friction sending sparks of sensation straight to your core. The gasp that escapes you makes his grin widen.

“So lovely,” he murmurs, pulling you closer and nuzzling at you, his hands now running over your back as he kisses along the swell of your chest. You sigh and press yourself against him. A brief roll of your hips has you both gasping.

Of course that means you need to do it again. You feel his hard length straining against his jeans, pressing up against your core, and you know that while you could stop this with a word you really don't want to.

“Breez,” you say, bringing your mouth to his ear, so your lips brush the sensitive shell. His name is barely more than a sigh, but you know you have his complete attention. “Do you want to take this to your bedroom?”

He pulls back and looks at you, he really looks at you, and his smile grows wicked. “Why yes, I really, really would.”

Morning finds you curled up in Breez's bed, Holly snoring at your feet. You are sore in all the best ways, and you don't want to budge from this spot.

All in all, you'd say it was a darn good date.

This was a “Monster Bang” & was rated “Lime” for makeouts but no sex. ♥ If you want your own, check out my Ko-Fi Commissions or my regular Commissions page for details.

You can find all of my writing on my Masterlist.

Love what I do? Support me with a Ko-Fi, and/or back me on Patreon. I also truly appreciate reblogs, likes, and comments. They keep me going. ♥

[breathinginthevapor]

A heart-breaking mess

Summary: You and Luke are former high school sweethearts, but haven’t talked in years. You suddenly run into each other at a bar and might not be completely done with each other.

A/N: Well, no one (literally no one, it got six likes i think) read my last one shot even though the one before that got over 300 so yeah, let’s see how this goes haha. Please please please leave feedback if you like it (and also if you don’t just don’t be too mean im fragile haha) As for warnings, there’s meantions and brief descriptions of sex, and alcohol is also in the picture. Also, if anyone would like a second part, I’d totally be up for that x

T/W: drinking, slight nsfw

Masterlist

I don’t own the picture, it’s from Luke’s instagram

He has changed so much, and he’s not at all the boy you knew all those years ago. But his eyes are the same that once looked at you with admiration and love, and their shade is the same icy blue as the ones who made your teenage heart flutter. His lips are the same as the ones who calmed you down on dark nights, and his hands still the ones that held yours when you walked through the halls of your local high school.

But the confidence radiating from his body is new, as well as the flirting look in his eyes is one you haven’t seen before. It’s a strange coincidence he is frequenting the same bar as you tonight, and even though you’re both different persons than the children who believed their love could last forever, it brings back all those memories you spent so much time on forgetting.  

If you had known he was back in town, you would have stayed indoors watching Netflix instead of visiting the bar you know his friends like, but how could you? It’s not easy when he’s traveling the world; in Asia the first day and then home the next.  

It may seem weird that even now, years after your breakup, you still fear meeting him, but he was your first love, and you’ve learned that first loves always will have a special place in people’s heart, including yours.  

He’s dancing with a girl you don’t know, and she’s just another thing that tells you how different he is. The Luke you knew wouldn’t even have offered her and her short dress a second glance, too caught up in a funny story his friends told and besides never seeing the point in one night stands, but now his hands are around her waist and his lips on her neck.

She turns around and places her hands in his thick curls. You want to puke, perhaps because it isn’t until now you realize that the Luke who’ll always be a part of you is gone from the surface and only lives in your memory. The tiniest bit of hope that has been hidden inside you for the past years shatters. The Luke who promised you forever under a sky full of stars, the Luke who ate McDonald’s with you on prom night in your fancy clothes and the Luke who wrote songs about you and showed them with trembling hands on his guitar doesn’t exist anymore and never will again.  

You swallow down the rest of your drink and get up from the lousy bar chair. You’re not in the mood for neither partying nor drinking anymore, no, you just want to go home and sleep and maybe throw out some old pictures of the boy who had promised to come back to you but never did.  

However, today isn’t your lucky day. When you stand up, you manage to take down the glass with you, and just as it hits the floor, the music stops and everyone turns towards you, including him. You see it in his eyes: the recognition, how he at first wonders why you look so familiar and then how it suddenly hits him who you are.

It’s only about three seconds before another song is played and everybody continues what they were doing before your little accident, but not him. You watch him excuse himself from the girl who’s clearly very disappointed about missing out on a night with the Rockstar, but he doesn’t seem to care, and while he makes his way to you, his eyes are fixated on yours like you’re some song he knew and loved once but now struggle to remember the words of.  

“Y/N.”

“Luke.”

You both greet each other with emotionless voices, and it scares you how comfortable he looks while you’re busy scanning the room for an exit. But even now, the way he says your name sends chill through your body, and you wonder how you have been able to go on so long without hearing him say it.  

It’s weird: he’s still able to give you the sparks, to fill your stomach with butterflies, but at the same time you never want to see him again. Never want to hear his voice again, never want to feel the way that only he can make you.

“It’s been a long time, huh? What, a year, two years?”

It hurts that he doesn’t remember, but you remind yourself that it’s different for him. He doesn’t have to buy groceries at the same place you bought hot wings together when you were hangover, chat with your mom every time he sees her on the street (which is surprisingly often considering how big of a city Sydney is), hear her talk about how good you’re doing or walk past your house every time he’s on his way to work.  

“Almost three,” you correct, fighting to keep the careless expression on your face.

You just hope he can’t read you anymore. You are, after all, not the open book you used to be.  

“Really? Wow, time just flies when you’re living on the road,” he answers, a small smile on his lips, clearly thinking back on some tour memories. “Are you in college now? Almost done or what?”

You’re not really in the mood for small talk, and you just want to run away and never ever think about the boy who broke your heart again, but unfortunately, it feels like your feet are glued to the ground which means you have no choice but to stay.

“Yeah, I’ll be a fully educated teacher in two years. Took a year off to work.”

You can’t count how many times you’ve said those words to strangers or acquaintances, but it feels weird that Luke’s one of them now when he used to be the one who knew you better than anyone else.

Sometimes, you’d wonder if he actually knew you better than you knew yourself. It certainly seemed that way when he sent some of your writing to a competition where the first prize was a course with a professional writer. You only found out what he had done when you received an email that said you had won. Needless to say, you were over the moon for having someone so sweet and considerate in your life.

“Teaching? I thought you wanted to be a writer?” He remembers. Remembers the dreams you had when you were younger and believed everything was possible, when you still believed that dreams come true.

News flash, they don’t.

"Well, we can't all live our teenage dreams as grown-ups," you say before thinking, sounding so bitter that you don't even like yourself. Luke has worked hard for everything he's achieved, and he has definitely deserved it.

However, there's still a small part of you that finds it unfair that he's doing everything he's ever wanted while swimming in money and luxury while you're only just able to pay rent because you did nothing but work for a whole year.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I'm just tired, school's really been taking a toll on me the last couple of months.”

"I understand," he affirms, raising his hand to show that you’re forgiven. "I was rooting for you, though."

You flash a smile at him, and then the two of you stand in an awkward silence you’ve never experienced with him before. You used to talk the whole night, and even when the silence took over, it felt nice and calm and comforting.

He scratches his neck, looking down at his feet. Then he takes a deep breath that visibly expands his chest and fixes his blue orbs on yours.

“Do you wanna dance?”

You open your mouth to decline his offer, but then you close it again and just nod. You can’t explain why, but you can’t get yourself to say no. Not when you know this might be the last time you see him.

He grabs your hand and pulls you through the crowd, bodies pressing against you from every side but the feeling of Luke’s hand in yours making you feel safe.

He stops when he’s found a spot with a little amount of space for the two of you, and you seriously regret your decision when you stand there facing each other and not knowing what to do.

But then he grabs your other hand and swirls you around while pulling you closer, so your back is pressed against his chest. He places your own hands on your hips, his still covering them.

You immediatly lose yourself in the music and the way his body perfectly melds into yours, and you grow braver for every minute. You press your ass against his crotch and let your fingertips wander up to his neck, pulling at the short curls. He groans and grips your hips even tighter, knuckles turning white. Then you turn around and slowly lean in, barely letting your lips meet before pulling away again.

“Such a tease,” he mutters, hands slipping down to squeeze your ass. You lean in once more and this time, there’s no holding back.

He parts your lips with his tongue and then explores your mouth, grazing your teeth and biting your lip.

When a stranger bumps into you, breaking the kiss, he whispers in your ear, “Wanna do this somewhere else, babe?”

You simply nod, feeling your veins boiling with desire.

This time, he leads you to the bathroom for disabled and pushes you up against the door while locking it with the hand that isn’t caressing your hardening nipple through your dress.

“Jump,” he commands, and you secure your legs behind his back while he carries you to the sink, placing you on the brink of it. His lips suck on your neck, collarbone and then, after removing your dress, your breast too, surely leaving marks.

The sex is nothing like when you were together, before he left. He’s much more rough and daring, whispering things in your ear that would make his younger self blush, and he has to cover your mouth to prevent you from making too much noise.

But he’s still considerate enough to make sure to finish you both, and then he stays inside you for a few seconds before pulling out and grabbing your clothing from the floor.

He throws your dress, bra and panties at you and then pulls his boxer shorts on and buttons up his shirt.

You slide down the sink, trying to catch your breath and laughing at his struggle with putting on the tight skinny jeans.

“I can’t believe you still wear those,” you begin, raising your eyebrows, “I remember you said they made you look ‘punk rock’.”

He chuckles, finally succeeding in his attempt at pulling up the black jeans.

“Well, they look good with almost everything and you gotta admit I do look more tough with these on than my old pizza pajamas pants,” he responds and winks at you, making you giggle once more.

“I actually have those in my drawer back home. They may not be trendy or ‘punk rock’, but I swear to God they are the comfiest piece of clothing ever,” you admit and then realize how weird it must sound that an ex has your pajamas laying around after three years of being broken up. “Wow, that sounded creepier than I intended.”

He smiles reassuringly at you, “no worries, Y/N. I still wear that necklace you gave me with the fake shark tooth sometimes as well, so we’re even.” You mirror his grin, remembering when you bought him the necklace. It was when he first went to London, and you wanted to gift him something to remind him of home. You wandered through Sydney all day, not finding anything worth paying for before stumbling upon the fake shark tooth in one of the tourist shops down by the harbor. You knew Luke would find it funny (and perhaps just a little cool too) and you don’t think you’ll ever be able to forget how thankful he looked when you gave it to him.

You were joining his family visiting him in London, and upon your leave, you had offered him the gift and he immediately got the idea behind, slipping the necklace over his head and pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, whispering “I love you so much,” when you pulled apart.

Luke clears his throat and shakes you from your thoughts. You can’t remove the smile from your lips, feeling better than you have in a long time and looking forward to spending more time with Luke. There’s so much you want to hear about and so many things you want to tell him. And you’re extremely glad you went to the bar tonight.

But then Luke speaks, and every trace of happiness once again leaves your body, “Well, I should probably get going. It was nice catching up with you Y/N, feel free to message me if you’re ever in L.A and up for a round two.”

Your whole body stiffens, but he doesn’t seem to notice or perhaps he just doesn’t care as he presses a short kiss on your cheek before opening the door and leaving you alone.

You’re unable to move, too much in shock to even think comprehendible, but then someone opens the door to the bathroom and asks if you’re finished out there, and you leave, feeling like a zombie like the ones in the movies you watched with your father when you were a kid.

You stop by the bar and look down where the shattered glass still lays right beside your feet, just like the broken remains of your heart. Because he isn’t your Luke anymore, he’s just a heart-breaking mess who used to be the love of your life.

But even now, he still has the ability to shatter your heart into millions of pieces. And you hate him for it.  

[shes-soparticular]

Every Little Part of Me is Holding on to Every Little Piece of You

A/N: Part 2 of 2. Angst with some fluffiness.  Since this is written in the third person and isn’t really reader based, I gave her a name this time, Alex. Feel free to imagine it as it suits you! Special thanks to Boyz II Men for all the 90s R&B inspo.

Part 1 here - http://shes-soparticular.tumblr.com/post/183635045865/take-me-back-to-the-start

Words: 2845  

As soon as he hits the bottom of his fourth cup of coffee, the mile markers finally reach the end of their countdown. Chicago’s skyline stretches out before him in the distance, lighting the night sky and bringing him an odd mixture of excitement and fear. He’s spent all 7 hours of his drive practicing what he’ll say to Alex, the monologues shifting with the state lines. While he had a million thoughts he wanted to express to her, complete with thousands of promises and apologies, it really all boiled down to one sentiment. He loved her, with every last fiber of his being, and he just prayed that was enough. Of course he knew this could all blow up in his face. She’d asked for space and time and six days (now seven, at this late hour) didn’t seem to fulfill that request. There was a distinct possibility she wouldn’t take this as a grand gesture but rather a rejection of her needs. But somewhere around the halfway point, he let go of worrying about that risk. If he could look her in the eyes and speak to her, tell her everything he should have said the night she left, at least things would be out in the open. At least she would know he wasn’t about to give up this fight.

Exiting the freeway and turning on to Chicago’s city streets, traffic slows as late night revelers pour out of the bars and into their Ubers. It’s close to three in the morning and he’s lost an hour with the time change, but he’s never felt more awake. His muscle memory seemingly kicks in, putting him into auto-pilot as the neighborhood becomes familiar. Alex had lived in that old Greystone with Erica when they’d first met, the small apartment serving as a refuge for them on many nights early in their relationship. His heart ached for those days, when their love was still a secret kept between the two of them. When they’d still been able to shut out the rest of the world and all of the responsibilities that came with it. It wasn’t to say that her move to Toronto hadn’t been a much needed step for the both of them, but going public had certainly popped the bubble they’d been living in.

He takes the first parking spot he sees, knowing full well it’s probably a tow zone. This night was going to have one of two outcomes and he couldn’t imagine giving a shit about a parking ticket either way. Within seconds, he finds himself standing outside of familiar Greystone and suddenly the courage he’d built up doesn’t seem to be enough to drive him to ring the buzzer. Fate intervenes as he lingers and a couple he vaguely remembers from the prior year stumbles together up the steps. The way the girl is walking backwards, hands in her boyfriend’s back jean pockets, giggling into his neck as he fumbles with the keys, gives Shawn instant flashbacks to all the summer nights he and Alex had done the very same dance. The couple doesn’t notice him immediately, brushing passed in their drunken daze. As the boyfriend works on unlocking the door, the girl glances over her lover’s shoulder at Shawn with a stare of recognition. “I knew I saw Alex this week, you’re here with her, right?” Even though it was essentially a lie, he was here for Alex but not with her, he nodded anyways. That was enough for the girl to detach from her boyfriend and hold the door open for Shawn. “Tell her and Erica we’re sorry in advance for any noise tonight.”  For a second, he’s reluctant to go in. This feels a little like cheating and he wonders if he owes Alex the opportunity to deny his buzz. However, the part of him that’s desperate for her to hear what he has to say, even if from behind one closed door, considers this must be fate’s way of getting him closer. With another polite nod, he follows them into the building, heading straight for the stairs. He takes them two at a time and reaches the third floor, his palms going sweaty at the sight of the door that used to welcome him. From the hallway, he can hear the sound of ‘Water Runs Dry’ drifting from behind the door and breathes a sigh of relief that at least he won’t be waking anyone up out of a dead sleep. Granted, knowing that his girlfriend is likely up at three am listing to breakup songs isn’t the best omen either. Not allowing himself another moment of hesitation, he reaches up and knocks on the door. Now or never.

A solid minute passes before he hears footsteps from within the apartment, approaching the door with caution. It creaks open painfully slow, latch still clearly on. But the one green iris he sees peeking out nearly stops his heart. Her eye is red and puffy, obviously weary from crying. Before he can open his mouth, the door shuts again but luckily with the telltale sound of the chain lock being undone. When the door opens all the way, he drinks in the sight of her. Even with her hair pulled into a messy, unkempt ponytail and her face blotchy and tear stained, she’s by far the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. The fact that she’s wearing one of his old hoodies sends a warmth through his veins.  It takes every ounce of strength not to pull her right into his arms, to kiss away those tears.  “Shawn?” Alex’s voice cracks, a look of bewilderment on her face. “What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t want to launch into his declaration just yet, his mind preoccupied with the sight of her. “I…I had to see you. I went out for a drive and this is where I ended up.” She seems to process this information for a moment, finally moving aside with a silent invitation for him to come in. He steps passed her carefully, shoving his hands in his pockets to force himself not to touch her. Maybe it’s the caffeine, maybe it’s the nerves, but he swears his heart is racing at a thousand beats per minute. He’s accustomed to her being this calming force, his touchstone that brought him down to earth. So this is a new feeling, one that he doesn’t want to hold on to for long.

“Well, ugh, excuse the mess…I wasn’t expecting any visitors this late.” Alex tightens her ponytail, buzzing around the living room to clean up the discarded Ben & Jerry’s pints and empty wine bottles. On her tour around the room trying to hide the evidence of her wallowing, she notices Shawn craning his neck, obviously looking for Erica. He’s expecting her to come stomping out at any second, ready to rip him a new asshole. “Erica left this morning on a business trip. Luckily for you.” Her last sentence seems to be lighthearted, another good sign, but he’s doing his best no to get his hopes up.

“I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t a relief,” A chuckle escapes his lips, which he instantly regrets. This probably isn’t the time to laugh this off considering he most certainly is owed an ass kicking by her best friend. “Can we talk? Would that be okay?”

Her lips part for a second before closing again, clearly searching for the words. Bringing her hands up to rub her arms as if chilled, she finally blows out a breath. “Yeah. We should definitely talk.” She doesn’t move a muscle towards the couch, choosing instead to stand in the center of the room as if to be ready to make an exit. He takes one tentative step towards her but still leaves a respectful distance. The monologues he’d practiced on the drive are suddenly erased from his mind and there’s only one thought echoing in his head. “There’s a lot I want to say but I think I need to listen first. Will you tell me what’s on your mind?” Alex’s face softens at this, not having expected such a mature response. Still, she’s in the very same boat of having plenty to say and not knowing how to organize it.

“What’s on my mind?” She repeats, arms crossing protectively against her chest. “I’m not sure where to start. I’ve been playing this conversation out in my head the last few days and I still don’t know what to say.”  A heavy sigh leaves her, her eyes moving to the ceiling to hold back tears. “The thought that seemed to come back in every single version is…why didn’t you choose me, Shawn? I choose you every second of every day. I choose us. But over the last few months, I’ve felt so alone. I’ve felt myself falling down your priority list. And I just wonder, how long until I’m not even your afterthought?” Her voice is quaking as she tries to get the words out. He wants to cut in, to tell her how sorry he is, how far from the truth it is, but he holds back. More than anything, he wants her to feel heard. “It wasn’t even the stupid kiss, you know? I trust you. I know that was a misunderstanding. The fucked up part was that it happened while we were in the same city. On a night you were supposed to have come home to me. On a night that we had planned for so long and I had been clinging to. And you just…you didn’t choose me.” She reaches her hands up to press at the corners of her eyes, still refusing to cry again so soon. It’s enough for the pricking feeling to build behind his own eyes. The guilt welling up in his stomach is almost too much to bear, but he knows he deserves it. Honestly, he needs her to unload, needs to take this weight off of her shoulders, no matter what it means for him.

Clearing his throat, he waits for her to bring her eyes back to his. He doesn’t want to say this without her being able to see how much he truly means it. That these words are coming from the deepest part of him. “You’re right. About all of it. I was so caught up with tour and with all of my own bullshit that I put you on the back burner. I should have seen what it was doing to you, but I ignored it. And that night? God, I’d do literally anything to take it back. All I’ve wanted in these last six days was to spend a single second with you, even just hearing your voice again. I can’t believe I ever let myself take you for granted.” This time, he can’t stop himself from taking another step towards her. “I am so sorry, baby. I know I hurt you and I know I can’t fix it. But I also can’t just give up fighting for us.” Now it’s his voice that cracks. “None of this means a fucking thing without you.”

The tears are falling freely down her face now, but the tension has left her features. She looks so incredibly vulnerable in that moment and his heart has had enough, he has to hold her. Crossing the room, he gently pulls her into his chest, lips instinctively going to her forehead. He’s beyond relieved when she lets herself crumple into his arms, tears staining his t-shirt. “I know you wanted space and I promise, you can take whatever you need. As long as you need. But I need you to know I’m not letting go.” He gently lifts her chin to look at him once more. “I love you more than anything in this world and I’ll do whatever it takes to show you.” She responds with a tiny nod, a deep breath filling her chest as she attempts to compose herself. They lock eyes for a long beat, expressing everything that neither of them can find the words to say. Brushing the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs the way he should have a week before, he’s overwhelmed in that moment by the amount of love he has for this woman. It’s nearly overpowering, but he can’t imagine it being any other way. He can’t imagine living without that feeling.

Once she’s caught her breath, she balls her hands in the back of his shirt, pulling him closer. “I believe you. I shouldn’t have expected you to read my mind from thousands of miles away. We’ve always been so honest with one another and I clammed up. I should have just told you that you were being an asshole.” Alex manages a smile up at him. “Next time I will.”  He swears the words “next time” are now his favorite in the English language, specifically falling from her lips.

“I swear I’ll do my best to ensure there is no next time.” Pressing his forehead against hers, he can’t get her close enough. “I mean, we both know I’ll probably still manage to be an asshole from time to time, but only with the best of intentions. Because I’m always going to choose you.” Their lips finally connect, neither of them ever having needed a kiss so badly. It begins gently, but it’s not long before they’re lost in one another.

The shrill sound of the alarm on her phone begging for attention breaks his focus on her lips, the device rumbling around on the coffee table a few feet away. A reminder flashes on the screen and he’s fully prepared to ignore it, knowing that his scatter-brained girlfriend relies on her iPhone to remind her of even the most mundane things – like packing her work lunch or taking her birth control. But for some reason, the emboldened words catch and hold his attention. Check into flight. AIR CANADA Flight 508, ORD -> YYZ.

As if he isn’t already awash in relief, another wave crashes over him. Keeping his hand glued to the small of her back as she reaches down to turn off the alarm, a shaky breath leaves him along with the insecurities still swimming in his head. “You…you were coming home?”

She does her best to bite back the guilty smile growing on her face. Pulling herself back into his arms, she momentarily hides her face in his chest, a pink flush growing across her cheeks. “Of course I was.” Her words are muffled in his shirt, so he tilts her chin upwards. He needs to hear these words from her loud and clear.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” There’s a matching smile tugging at his lips as well. The revelation is filling his chest and he can’t begin to understand the endorphins reaching his brain from a simple iPhone reminder.

“Of course I was coming home to you,” She repeats, meeting his eyes. “It took me five days of refusing to admit it to myself, about ten bottles of wine, and nearly wearing out ‘End of the Road’ on Erica’s Boyz II Men vinyl, but I couldn’t let this be the end. I’m kind of madly in love with you.” He’s fully aware that he’s lucked out, that she could have easily cut and run and started fresh with someone that wouldn’t take her for granted. But despite their challenges, despite their flaws, he believed they were meant for one another. If soulmates in fact existed, he was confident that he’d found his. And he was resolved to never fuck it up again.

The music still softly drifting from the record player brought a sudden thought to his head. Sure, 90s R&B had plenty of soulful breakup songs but the makeup songs were arguably even better. Pulling away from her with reluctance, he made his way to the record player across the room. “Hey you, don’t go,” Alex instantly pouts at the loss of him, trying to catch his shirt as he walks away from her.

“One second.” He shoots her a cheeky grin before studying the album cover to find the track listing he's thinking of. Picking up the arm of the record player, he carefully places the needle on the right groove. The first notes of the song ring out as he walks back towards her, his grin doubling in size. “That’s more like it.”

His hands reach her hips just as she registers the song, her signature giggle sweet music to his ears. “I’ll Make Love to You? Really?” Though she’s rolling her eyes, he can see the fire returning in them. Her hips begin to sway against his, hands reaching to bring his face back down to hers. “You fucking better.”

 They both know this won’t be the end of their problems. Making love on your best friend’s couch isn’t an instant fix to any challenge. But it’s certainly a start. And right now, that’s all they need.

[bloodandfire-kennyhickeyfanfic]

Chapter 12 - Welcome To The Machine

Arizona State, October 16 1994

"No, you've got to be fucking kidding me!" Kenny exclaims as we stand outside the tour bus on a long stretch of Highway, somewhere between Phoenix and Tuscon Arizona. It was mid afternoon and the bright Arizona sun was beating down as the tour bus driver - Mike - attempts to flag someone down for some help. The bus of course decided to breakdown, the ball bearings of the front tires apparently seized causing the bus to lock up completely on the highway. We were all just perfectly fine drinking and hanging out when there was this huge thrust forward and the driver had to steer us off to the side of the highway. I fucking thought we like hit someone or something but no, it's just the stupid bus. Fuck sakes!

"Ok, look guys... I'm just gonna head back and see if there is a gas station or something. I'm gonna have to call someone for help, so Andi, here... take the bus keys and I'll be back," Mike says pulling out the keys from his pocket. He was incredibly tall and really built, I almost didn't picture him as a bus driver at all.

"Wait...what do you want me to do with the keys?" I ask taking the keys from him and flipping my curls out of my face.

"Just keep 'em for now, but I'll be back guys, I swear," Mike says and turns off to walk down the highway. I stood there in the hot Arizona sun looking down at the keys in my hand and turn around to see Kenny, and Johnny leaning against the bus having a smoke, Peter turning around and heading back up into the bus and Josh was still up in his bunk on the bus sleeping off his hangover.

"What the fuck are we gonna do now?" Johnny asks taking a drag of his smoke.

"I uh, guess we just wait," I say as I walk up to Kenny and Johnny and I glance back at Mike as he walks farther away from us.

"Fuck... it's always something," Kenny says as he takes a drag of his cigarette and looks down at himself, his jet black curls gently blowing in the breeze.

"We just better not miss the show man. All our gear shows up and we're nowhere to be found... how the hell would we explain that?" Johnny says, his tone slightly frustrated.

"Don't worry, we'll make it..." I say trying to sound hopeful as Kenny glances at me exhaling a cloud of smoke.

*6 Hours Later*

"I thought you said we would make it," Kenny smirks at me with a sarcastic tone as we sit up on the bus waiting for Mike. It was now dark out and here we are still sitting on the side of the highway with a broken down bus and 4 guys who are all annoyed at me somehow because I apparently was the one who broke the bus.

"It's not my fault Mike hasn't come back yet," I say in a flatly as I sit across from Kenny on the couch.

"No but it is your fault for letting him go with the fucking change because now we have no way to call anyone for help," Kenny says angered.

"How the fuck was I supposed to know he had all the change? I've never had to carry change on me because usually we have a fucking working bus, it's not my fault,"

"Oh so you're going to bring up how it was soooo much better working for Soundgarden cause they had better working equipment,"

"Excuse me?! When did I ever bring up Soundgarden... all I said was that I've never had to deal with a broken down bus before!" I shoot back at Kenny, my anger clearly revealed at this point.

"First fucking time for everything right?!"

"Ok, look yelling at me is not going to get us there any faster alright, just fucking chill," I say as I loosen the laces to my Doc Martens and avoiding his eyes altogether. I'm really not in the mood to

"Chill? Really? Just fucking chill she says," Kenny chuckles sarcastically and I look over at him completely pissed with him.

"Well what the fuck am I supposed to do? Get out underneath the bus and fix it myself?!" I yell back at him.

Now, I'm really pissed.

"Hey guys, stop ok... look we're all a little tired and hungry lets just relax ok," Johnny says as he walks up from the back lounge area of the bus. Suddenly there were some bright flashing lights that could be seen out of the windshield up at the front and get up off the couch quickly to run out and see Mike in the passenger side of the large tow truck pulling up in front of the bus.

"Oh my god, what the fuck took so long?" I ask as Mike steps out of the passenger side of the tow truck.

"It took forever to find a gas station and then when I finally was able to get a hold of a tow truck, it was already dark. I'm sorry guys, we got help but you missed your set though," Mike says.

"Yea no shit," Kenny says as the tow truck guys get to working on the front of the bus.

"I uh, got a hold of Jerry and he's sending the equipment bus to pick you all up so it might be a little longer of a wait but at least you'll be able to make it to Tuscon and get to a hotel," Mike explains.

"Ok... thank you Mike," I say relieved at the fact that we don't have to sleep on the bus on the side of the highway.

*****

Not long after, we were finally picked up by the equipment bus and stuffed all our luggage as best we could into the bus, then made our way into Tuscon and checked into a hotel. Since there were only two rooms available, Peter, Josh and Johnny decided to all share one which left Kenny and I with the other. Once we reached our room and we set our bags down by the door, I threw my leather jacket on the chair and immediately began to peel off my Dead Kennedy's tank top, tossing it on to the floor and then sit myself down on the bed to unlace my Doc Marten's.

Kenny and I haven't said one word to each other since we were yelling at each other back on the broken down bus and I wasn't in the mood to argue anymore. I just wanted this day to be over. As I set my boots aside, Kenny sets his leather jacket on the chair and watches me as I unbuckle my belt and peel off my ripped jeans.

"I'm going in for a quick shower," I say quietly as I step out of my jeans. Kenny still says nothing though I can feel his eyes follow me as I make my way into the small hotel bathroom in just my black thong panties and lacy black bra. I close the door and start up the shower as I examine myself in the mirror while I wait for the water to warm up.

I hate fighting. We don't fight all the time, actually really hardly ever at all, but when we do... fuck I wish it just wouldn't happen at all. I know it's just because we're all so exhausted and cranky and sleeping on a bus with 4 boys all the fucking time is starting to drive me insane. But this is what I signed up for. This is what I do. I could handle it when I was on the road with Soundgarden so I sure as hell can handle it with Type O and Pantera.

I step into the shower stall and let the warm water run over my body. Damn this feels amazing. After a couple of minutes I hear the bathroom door open.

"Can I come in?" Kenny asks.

"Yea," I say quietly as I close my eyes to let the water run over my head. I hear him open the shower curtain and he quickly closes it as I wipe the water from my face to open my eyes to look at him. He glances over my body and then back up to my eyes and I could just tell that he was sorry for yelling at me. I offer a half smile and he gives me a cute little smirk and touches his forehead to mine, the water now washing over him, soaking his dark curls that splayed across his chest.

"Well that was... fun," He says and I smirk.

"Yea I love it when the bus breaks down and shit gets all fucked up, and we end up fighting. I don't know about you but I'm ready to do that all over again," I joke and Kenny starts laughing.

"I'm sorry baby," He says sweetly.

"Me too," I say.

"You know what the best part about fighting is?" He says low and raspy as he glances at me under his brow.

"What?" I ask with his hands moving to my hips and around to my lower back. My hands rest on his biceps, feeling him flex a little as he presses my body to his, letting the water wash over us.

"Making up," He says and presses his lips to mine and I couldn't help but melt in his arms as his tongue swipes across my bottom lip. His tongue begins to play with mine as I reach up and lace my fingers through his wet curls, pressing my chest to his as he wraps his arms around me.

Arlington Texas,  October 31 1994

"What the.... seriously Peter...?" Kenny exclaims as he picks his guitar from the guitar rack backstage. Peter decided to have some drunken fun and spray painted Kenny's Gibson SG completely black.

"What?" Peter says flatly as he walks over to him.

"We go on in like fucking 15 minutes and you spray my guitar with black spray paint?! It's all over the strings, the pickups... Peter what the fuck?!" Kenny exclaims sounding incredibly mad as I try desperately to not laugh as Peter looks at him taking a swig of his bottle of wine.

"It'll sound better that way, I promise," Peter jokes. They are constantly pulling pranks on each other and this is probably the best prank Peter has pulled on Kenny. Little does Peter know, Kenny fucked around with his bass earlier so really Kenny shouldn't be the one complaining. Peter just doesn't even know it yet.

"It's not even fucking dry yet," Kenny says as he takes his guitar and sets it down on the back bench that's behind the stage and starts to re-string his guitar.

"Baby, do you need - "

"Nope I don't need any help, just leave me... fuck," Kenny cuts me off still clearly annoyed but I couldn't help giggling because it was just so funny. Kenny shoots me a look and I just throw up my hands and try not to let him see me laugh as I walk away.

*20 Minutes later*

Once everyone was on stage and just as soon as Peter goes to pluck the first chord of Black No 1, it was the worst sound I had ever heard come out of a bass. I wish I could describe it. The only way I could think to describe it is like a huge fart or something, I don't know but it was fucking hilarious. As I stand off stage by Kenny's Mesa Boogie amp stack, Kenny, who was covered in black spray paint still, his forearms and hands still black from his guitar, shoots me a glance like he knew that would happen and starts laughing as I shake my head at him.

"Well since my bass is fucked I'm just going to stand here until someone can give me a proper working bass," Peter's voice booms into the mic and the crowd starts to go crazy, some laughing but mostly 'booing'.

"John, can you get him his bass?" I ask as I run back behind Johnny's drum kit where Peter's bass tech guy which is really Kenny's guitar tech guy as well stood behind, trying to string up another bass.

"I'm working on it," John says as he quickly threads the strings passed the pick ups and through the bridge of Peter's back up bass. Once John finishes stringing the bass and with the crowd's 'booing' becoming even louder, he runs out on stage and hands Peter a new bass and the crowd starts to cheer. I take my place back by Kenny's amps and take a long sip of my Jack and Coke.

Oh my God these boys are a handful.

Las Vegas Nevada, December 4  1994

"Kenny, no seriously... what are you doing!?" I ask half laughing as I stand back stage at the Thomas and Mack Center. It was the last show of the tour and the crowd was going insane as different members of the road crew were whizzing by me trying to understand just what was happening.

"Ooooh baby, I'm gettin' 'em I swear," Kenny laughs maniacally as he grabs a bottle of mustard from the buffet table and steps back up to the stage grabbing me by my hip and pulling me into him and pressing his lips to mine. It caught me off guard at fist and I giggle against his lips but then he begins to move his lips with mine and I reach up and lace my fingers through his messy dark curls that flowed passed his shoulders and suck his beautiful bottom lip.

He then pulls away from me just as fast as he pulled me into him, then laughs as he runs out on to the stage with the bottle of mustard while Peter and Josh throw more toilet paper rolls out into the crowd. Dime and Phil who were also on stage, Dime still trying to play a few riffs from his guitar, become covered in toilet paper while the crowed continues to go insane.

I have never see so much toilet paper being thrown and as I stand there watching the spectacle, more members of Type O's crew whir passed me to try to stop them. It was pure craziness, seeing Kenny squirt the bottle of mustard all over Dime with Dime laughing like a crazy man with his guitar, picking a bottle of ketchup that somehow got on stage and squirting it right back at Kenny.

"Andi!!!" I hear Johnny scream my name from somewhere behind me and as I turn around, he squirts me with a bottle of ketchup all over my chest and laughs.

"The Fuck?!" I exclaim completely surprised and look down to see my Black Sabbath shirt covered in the red sticky, vinegary sauce.

"Oh shit!" Johnny laughs as I immediately run at him and try to get the ketchup bottle from him. This is insane. Completely utterly fucking insane but so much fucking fun at the same time. Johnny manages to get away from me as he is pretty fucking quick and I run over to the buffet table looking for another bottle of ketchup or mustard, really anything just to get him back. Once I grab the bottle and run back to the steps of the stage, Johnny was already out on stage fucking around with everyone else.

The chaos ensued and I could see the whole stage covered in toilet paper, food, spit, various alcoholic substances as everyone just lets their aggression out. It was like nothing I had ever seen before, let alone be a part of. It was fucking amazing!

[waywardnerd67]

Nerd By Day, Superhero By Night

Summary: (Y/N) loves her job as a Librarian in the small town of Lawrence, Kansas. When a new IT guy begins working there she quickly learns that there is more to him than meets the eye. Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Fluff/AU/Superhero!Dean/Nerdy!Dean Word Count: 5381 A/N: This is an AU based off THIS POST. As always this is unbeta so all mistakes are mine. Likes, comments and reblogs are splendid and I will love you doubly for them! Enjoy!

(Y/N) was sitting at the Circulation Desk at the Lawrence County Library. She was scanning in the latest books dropped off for return. Her manager, Clara, had been in her office with the newest hire to the library for the IT position.

“(Y/N), have you seen the new guy yet?” Her co-worker, Maggie asked.

She shook her head, “No. He came in during my lunch. All I know is his name is Dean Winchester.”

The girls looked up when they heard Clara’s office door open. (Y/N)’s heart nearly stopped when a tall, lean man in a button-down shirt, tie and black rimmed glasses walked out behind her manager. She swallowed hard as they approached them.

“(Y/N), Maggie this is Dean, he will be our new IT guy. Dean, Maggie is a part-time college student interning here and (Y/N) is our head librarian for this branch.” Clara said as he stuck his hand out to them both.

As soon as her hand touched his an electric currently ran up her arm. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you.” His baritone voice had her stomach doing flips.

“I-It’s nice to meet you as well. If you need anything, please let me know.” Her cheeks flared as she stumbled over her words slightly.

He smiled bashfully at her as he let go of her hand. She down noticing some bruising on his arm he was trying to keep covered by his sleeves. He followed Clara, giving him a tour of the library and where his office would be.

“Oh. My. God.” Maggie said her brown eyes wide, “He’s gorgeous! Kind of a nerd, but damn he makes it look hot.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes going back to scanning books, “He is very good looking and there is nothing wrong with being a nerd.”

Maggie scoffed, “Usually nerds are inexperienced, and I like a man who knows what he is doing.”

“Let’s get back to work and then you can go out to find you an experienced man.” Maggie walked away to put books back on the shelves laughing quietly.

By six o’clock, (Y/N) was ready to go home, unwind and dive into her newest book. She waved goodbye to Maggie and Clara. As she walked to her car in the back of the building, she noticed Dean getting into a beautiful black Chevy Impala. He was loosening his tie and talking on his phone to someone.

She could not help the sinking feeling that he could be talking to his girlfriend or boyfriend on the phone. She shook her head slightly trying to get rid of the disappointment filling her mind. (Y/N) was almost to her car, when she felt the hair standing on the back of her neck as if someone was behind her.

She stood still for a moment before she hurriedly started to get out her keys. That is when she was knocked from behind hard against a nearby car. Large hands grabbing at her bag as she struggled to keep it on her shoulder while sinking to the ground.

“Give it up bitch or I swear I will kill you.” The man sneered as she looked up at him.

As the man lifted some kind of long object in the air to hurt her with he suddenly went flying through the air. The assailant was just as surprised as she was when he landed a few feet away. She stood up slowly seeing a tall, intimidating person standing near her.

“I believe that bag belongs to the lady. I suggest you run before you make me do something I might regret.” His voice was deep and raspy sending chills down her spine.

The man scurried away as fast as he could without a word. (Y/N) looked back towards the hero who saved her, but he vanished before she could thank him. She looked all around noticing Dean must have left before the man attacked her. She took a few deep breaths as she sat in her car trying to calm down.

The next morning, she walked into work still a little dazed from the previous night. Maggie came running up to her waving the morning paper in her face, “Have you seen this?”

“Good morning to you as well. And no, I haven’t because you keep waving it like a lunatic.” (Y/N) said a little snippy.

Maggie rolled her eyes, “Lawrence has its very own superhero.” She said excitedly laying the paper down on the circulation desk.

Before (Y/N) could look at the article, she noticed Dean coming in with his hands full of coffee and a box of pastries. “Do you need some help, Dean?” She asked walking over to take the coffees from his hands.

“Thanks. I figured… well, since I’m the new guy I would bring everyone some morning… uh treats.” The way he stammered over his words and his cheek turning pink was adorable.

Maggie quickly grabbed a cup and a Danish hopping up on the desk, “Ah, yes we do accept all forms of sucking up and flattery here.”

He chuckled as (Y/N) looked down at the front page seeing the man who had saved her. “Who is the Hood?” she asked picking up the newspaper.

“He’s the superhero I was talking about. He showed up a couple of weeks ago and has been taking out criminals left and right.” Maggie explained as (Y/N) skimmed through the article.

The picture was blurred at best but showed a tall man with leather pants and dark red jacket with his hood up. He wore a full face mask that was bright red and military black boots.

“He kind of looks like a Red Hood knock off.” (Y/N) commented as Dean choked on his coffee.

He coughed a few times turning bright red as Maggie slapped his back, “You okay there big guy? I know, (Y/N)’s nerdiness knows no bounds. Who the hell is Red Hood?”

(Y/N) smirked, “He is a character in the Batman comics. He was originally a Robin, but then supposedly died by Joker and came back to life by the Lazarus’s Pit. He comes back to his hometown of Gotham taking out the bad guys who Batman refuses to kill. He’s an anti-hero, not good but also not bad.”

She looked up to see Dean staring at her in awe. She felt her face burning as Maggie scoffed, “Seriously, this is why you do get any dates. You need to put down the comics and pick up some lipstick.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes then heard Dean say softly, “I don’t know, I think it’s kind of hot when a woman reads comics.” He bit his lip nervously and excused himself to his office.    

“Did he just call you hot?” Maggie asked as stunned as (Y/N) was.

She shook her head, “No way. Now can we get to work.” Maggie jumped off the desk walking back towards the reference section to clean off the large tables before the library opened.

The was going well as families came in and out for their books. (Y/N) held a crafting class in the late afternoons for elementary ages so their parents could browse kid free for an hour. She noticed Dean standing there watching her closely. She looked up to see him smiling at her as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

When the library was getting ready to close a tall man with long chestnut and a large canvas jacket on. “Can I help you?” (Y/N) asked as he nodded.

“I’m looking for Dean Winchester.” He said looking around.

(Y/N) nodded, “Okay I will go get him…” just then Dean came walking up with his computer bag over his shoulder, “Never mind, did he throw up the bat signal or something?”

He chuckled nervously, “Something like that. This is my younger brother, Sam. Sam, this is (Y/N).”

Sam waved, “Nice to meet you. Dean we really need to get going.”

He nodded glancing over to (Y/N), “Have a good night, (Y/N).”

“Bye Dean.” She said watching the brothers walking away talking adamantly.  Maggie bumped her shoulder into (Y/N)’s.

“Who is that tall drink of water?” she asked as her eyes traveled up Sam’s body.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, “Can you control self around any man?” Maggie shook her head skipping off to the far end of the library to start shutting everything off.

Maggie and (Y/N) walked to their cars together after closing the library. She waved to Maggie as she drove away.

“Did that creep last night hurt you?” (Y/N) let out a yelp as the voice from behind her scared her.

She turned around seeing the man from the newspaper article. He was wearing his mask again and standing a few feet from her. “No, luckily you were there to save me before he could.”

“Good.” He turned to leave when (Y/N) called out to him.

“Wait, who are you? Why are you here in Lawrence? I mean, it’s not like we are Gotham City.” She asked moving closer to the man.

He laughed shrugging, “Every town needs a hero even if they are more like Ivy Town.”

(Y/N) laughed softly, “So even superheroes like reading comics.”

“Where do you think we get our inspiration from. There is true evil in this world Miss (Y/L/N) and I’m just a man who wants to save as many people as I can.” He said then turned away pressing his hand to his mask. “Got it. I’ll be there in five.”

“Someone in need of saving, Mr. Hood?” She asked.

He simply nodded taking off down the street disappearing from sight. (Y/N) sighed getting in her car. She started giggling uncontrollably, “So this is what Lois Lane and Catwoman feel like when the hero leaves them to save the world.”

Over the next few months, (Y/N) took to reading every article she could about The Hood which was the name the press came up with. The library was having electrical and plumbing work done so it was close for the day. (Y/N) and Maggie decided to invite Dean and Sam over to (Y/N)’s for movies and dinner.

(Y/N) and Dean had become good friends at work. They often would talk about the latest horror movie that had come out or new books coming into the library. She was nervous about seeing him outside of work and especially in her home.

“Are sure we couldn’t just go out somewhere?” She asked.

Maggie shook her head as she put more beer in the refrigerator, “No way. (Y/N), your house is meant for entertaining and parties. You just have no friends and now you do.”

(Y/N) sighed trying to swallow down her anxiety as she picked up a few of things on the kitchen table. Around five o’clock, there was knock on the door and she felt like her stomach was going to jump from her body.

She opened the door with Maggie right behind her smiling when she saw Dean. “You know you don’t have to dress like you’re going to work whenever you are around me.” She joked.

Dean was in a white, button-down, short-sleeved shirt with dress slacks and a tie. His cheeks turned a slight shade of pink, “I know, I was… uh… working a freelance job and had to come straight here after it.”

(Y/N) could tell he was hold back something. She shook it off handing them each a beer and walking over to continuing cooking. She noticed Maggie sitting close to Sam as his arm rested on the back of her chair.

“What are you making? It smells great.” Sam asked taking in a deep breath while closing his eyes.

She smiled proudly, “Chili, corn beard, bacon stuffed jalapeno poppers and lemon strawberry cupcakes with cream cheese icing.”

Dean sucked in a breath his lips parted slightly, “Did you say bacon stuffed poppers?”

“Yeah, I did. I hope that is okay?” She asked doubting herself. The cooler weather of fall had made her want to cook the first pot of chili for the season.

Dean’s smile erased any doubts from her mind, “It sounds amazing. Sammy and I haven’t had a home cooked meal in forever. We’re not exactly domestic.”

The girls laughed and easily the four of them fell into conversation. They found out that the brothers were born in Lawrence but after their mother died their dad moved them around a lot. Always being on the road throughout their lives, they decided they wanted a place to settle down in and they decided to come back to their hometown.

“What made you decide to go into IT?” (Y/N) asked as she placed the last dished on the table for dinner.

Dean looking longingly at all the food, “Uh… well it was just a safe career choice. What about the two of you?”

“Well I’m getting my Master’s in English Lit right now. I’m just interning at the library as extra credit. I want to travel the world and write novels or articles for online publications.” Maggie explained as Sam hung on to every word she said.

Dean turned his attention to (Y/N), “And you?”

She chuckled shrugging, “I have a degree in teaching, but I have worked at that library since I was sixteen years old. I just can’t bring myself to leave it because I love being surrounded by books.”

The brothers were digging into the food when Dean said, “You know you can do both. You can still be surrounded by books and teach. From seeing some of your classes at the library I think our schools are missing out on having you teach the next generation of doctors, lawyers and IT guys.”

(Y/N) felt her cheeks burning as she bashfully smiled over to Dean. The rest of dinner they talked about random topics and the boys praised (Y/N) repeatedly for her cooking. Afterwards, they made their way to the living room where Dean had brought over his favorite movie.

“Hatchet Man?” (Y/N) questioned as he put the DVD into the player.

“Yep! By far, my favorite movie of all time. Time to slice and dice.” Dean said sitting on the chair next to the (Y/N)’s spot on the couch.

About twenty minutes into the movie, Sam and Maggie disappeared from the living room claiming they did not like horror movies. (Y/N) did not want to think about what they were really doing within her house. She got up getting Dean another beer and some popcorn scooting over to the other side of the couch.

“If you move over then it will be easier to share the bowl.” She mentioned as he nodded moving over next to her.

(Y/N) glanced over during the movie to see Dean scrunching up his nose to push his glasses up. She watched as his lips mouthed every line from the movie. His olive eyes were focused on the screen wide with excitement.

Her body was buzzing with nervous energy sitting next to Dean. The feelings he brought up in her were foreign to her. The way she always wanted to be as close as possible to him and the urge to reach out to hold his hand. (Y/N) found herself slowly moving closer to him on the couch as the movie continued. That is when she noticed he was also moving himself closer to her and hope filled her heart.

Suddenly, Sam came out into the living room his shirt untuck and hair messy. “Dean, we… uh need to leave. Something came up at home.”

Dean looked slightly worried, “Alright Sam.” He glanced to (Y/N) softening his eyes, “I’m sorry we have to rush out. I promise we can watch your favorite movie next time and without the party poopers.”

She nodded smiling, “I hope everything is okay.”

Dean got up following Sam to the front door. Maggie and (Y/N) watched them quickly get into Dean’s car and take off down the road. Maggie placed her arm around (Y/N)’s shoulder, “I think I’m in love.”

“You mean in lust.” She chuckled as they cleaned up the living room.

Maggie left soon after leaving (Y/N) alone with her own feelings unknowing how to deal with them. Finally, around midnight she could not stand being inside anymore. Putting on her running clothes and a hoodie she grabbed her phone along with her earbuds deciding to work off some of the energy keeping her up.  

She did not normally like running in the middle of the night but lying in bed wide awake thinking of Dean was no better. She started off towards the library which was two miles from her house. The cold wind nipped at her blistering skin. Her running playlist pushed her to run harder.

She knew the policy at the library was co-workers could not be in romantic relationships. That on top of Dean’s comment of being able to teach while surrounded by books had her considering a huge change for her life. When she reached the library, she sat down on the stairs leading to the main entrance breathing heavily.

“You shouldn’t be out here this late.” Her eyes snapped to see the familiar red mask and dark leather outfit.

“Too much on my mind and running helps.” She explained standing up and walking towards the city’s hero, “Busy night?”

He shook his head, “Not anymore. Took care of a few issues near Kansas City but for tonight Lawrence is safe.”

The Hood turned to walk away, and she reached out suddenly touching his arm, “May I ask you something?”

“Sure, but I may not answer?” He said stepping closer to her.

As if her brain had no control over her hand, she reached up touching the side of his mask. The feelings Dean brought up in her did not even compare to the ones the masked man was able to make her feel.

“Why do you keep coming back to me? Am I in danger or…” she let her question drift off as he moved away slightly.

He stared down at her as she gripped his leather clad arms feelings the lean muscles of his arms. “You’re not in danger and I want to make sure to keep it that way. I… I feel a connection with you, but what I do,” he paused stepping completely away from her, “I can’t have any attachments.”

He popped his hood on turning his back to her looking over his shoulder, “You should stay clear of me.” With that he took off leaving her slightly speechless.

“What if I don’t want too.” She whispered.

Over the next several months, (Y/N) started looking into making a few changes along with hanging out with Dean more often outside of work. When she was with him, she would forget all about The Hood. They had so much in common and she loved spending time with him.

“Dean, can I ask you something?” she asked as they were walking towards the movie theater after work. They were going to see the latest Halloween movie after Dean insisted he treat her to it.

“You just did.” He chuckled.

She rolled her eyes, “Funny. Um, I feel kind of awkward asking this, but we’ve been hanging out a lot and it’s been a lot of fun.”

Dean nodded in agreement smiling at her, “I think so as well.”

(Y/N) took a deep breath stopping just outside the theater, “Is there something between us here or am I just reading too much into this?”

He nervously fidgeted with his glasses looking away from her. She could feel her heart dropping as the silence grew between them. “(Y/N), I like you a lot but…”

She shook her head not wanting to hear what he was going to say. Tears were threatening to fall down her cheeks and she did not want him to see her cry, “It’s fine. I shouldn’t have asked. I think… I think I’m just going to go home. Goodnight Dean.”

(Y/N) started to walk away quickly hearing Dean calling out to her. Her vision blurred from tears streaming down her face and her chest was burning from the sob she was holding back. When she finally stopped looking around not recognizing where she was.

She pulled her phone out to call Maggie and she cursed as she found her phone was dead. She pulled her coat around herself tighter walking back towards what she thought was the direction she came from.

“Hey beautiful, what are you doing in this neighborhood?” She turned to see someone standing behind her.

She started to back away slowly, “I’m just waiting for a friend to pick me up. He’ll be here any moment.”

For each stepped she took away from the man he would step closer to her. “Why don’t I just take you where you need to be and forget about your friend.”

(Y/N) felt her back press against a wall of a building as the man blocked her from moving placing his hands on the wall behind her. Panic was now spreading throughout her body as she wished she had never left Dean’s side.

“Step away from her.” A deep threaten voice came from behind the man caging her in against the wall.

The man started chuckling, “Hoodie Boy. You’ve been going around hurting a lot of my friends lately and I would love to repay you for that.”

“(Y/N), go now.” The Hood said looking straight at her as she ran past him. She hid behind a nearby parked car watching as the two men lunged at one another.

The Hood blocked every punch the man threw at him with ease. Never before had (Y/N) been impressed with anyone fighting but The Hood made it look as easy as breathing. She moved slightly knocking over a few empty cans next her. Looking up she saw The Hood staring at her and the man saw an opportunity to take a shot at him.

“WATCH OUT!” She screamed.

It was too late the man’s fist connected with The Hood’s mask knocking it completely off. It slid right to (Y/N) who grabbed it quickly off the ground. The Hood shook his head slightly dazed. That is when she noticed the smaller eye mask over his eyes. His hair was wildly sticking up in all directions as he got off the ground.

As he stood up he squared his shoulders and marched over to the man with a fierce determination. With two forceful blows to the face the man crumbled to the ground and The Hood tied his hands along with his feet together.

(Y/N) jogged over to him, “Thank you.” She said breathlessly.

He kept his face turned away from her, “You know you shouldn’t run away when you don’t know where you’re going. You could have been hurt or worse. You need to be more careful.”

She sucked in a shaky breath, “I-I didn’t mean too. I was… wait how did you know I was upset and ran away?”

“I have to go.” He said picking up the man and tossing him over his shoulder. Without another word he was gone. She followed him as best she could to the end of the street where he got onto a motorcycle with the man propped up against him.

She he sped by, she caught a glimpse of his face and she gasped, “Dean.”

The next morning, she walked into the library with The Hood’s mask in her bag. Walking into Dean’s office, she looked around seeing pictures of him and his brother from various states along with childhood pictures of his family. He had a few collector items on his desk like a figurine of Hatchet Man and an exact replica of his car.

There was still an hour before anyone else would be there as she sat down at his desk. She opened his top drawer seeing a variety of office supplies. When she opened the next drawer is when she found what she was looking for. It was the identical eye mask that The Hood had been wearing confirming her suspicions.

Quickly, she closed the drawer and left his office. He had called in for the day just reassuring (Y/N)’s thoughts that Dean Winchester was The Hood. That very revelation kept her distracted at work all day to the point that Clara told her to go on home.

“We’ve got this (Y/N). It’s not that busy and you don’t have any classes. Go on home and we’ll see you tomorrow.” She nodded grabbing her things.

She sat in her car for several minutes holding the menacing red mask in her hands. Tossing it onto the passenger seat, she drove off in the opposite direction of her house. Within fifteen minutes she was parked outside a beautiful two-story house in Lawrence. Walking up to the front door she knocked, and Dean answered wearing jeans, t-shirt and flannel shirt along with his black rimmed glasses.

“(Y/N), what are you doing here?” he asked stunned.

She held up the mask, “I think we need to talk.”

Dean took the mask as she walked inside. The Winchester’s house was beautiful and not at all what she was expecting for two bachelors to be living in. She turned towards him crossing her arms over her chest, “Start talking.”

“How did you figure it out?” he asked setting the mask on his kitchen table sitting down.

“I saw your face as you drove pass me last night. I think I would recognize the face of the guy I’ve been falling for the last few months even with an eyes mask and make-up.” (Y/N) sat across from him seeing a smirk.

He reached up taking off his black rimmed glasses, “Well I guess I don’t need these around you.”

Disappointment hit her seeing him take off the one thing she was attracted to the most, “Did you really think wearing glasses would not make people put two and two together?”

“I figured if it worked for Superman then why not me.” He chuckled then grew serious seeing her face, “Honestly, I never figured I would lose my mask. It’s specifically fitted for me and until last night I had never lost it in a fight. Thank goodness, Sam insisted I wear that eye mask underneath or the douchebag could have made me from the first night I took him down.”

(Y/N) gave him a curious look asking, “First night? You’ve taken him out before?”

“Yeah, the guy who pushed you against your car was the same guy from last night. The police in this town are mostly corrupt and let the criminals go. That is why Sam and I are here.” He explained.

Sam entered the kitchen cautiously, “Hey (Y/N).” he said nervously.

“Hello Sam, so are you the sidekick?” she asked as he glared at her while Dean’s booming laughter filled the room.

Sam narrowed his eyes on his brother, “No I’m not. I’m the brains while he’s the brawn. I run this operation from here and send him where he needs to kick ass.”

“So, you’re Alfred to his Batman.” She said purposely trying to get a rise out of him.

Sam gawked at her then smiled, “I’ll take that as a compliment. Please don’t tell Maggie. She knows nothing of this and I really don’t want her too.” He paused, “Yet anyway.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” (Y/N) said looking directly at Dean.

Sam rocked on his feet awkwardly, “Okay then. Well, I will just leave you two to chat.” He went back down through the door that must have led to the basement of the house.

“So?” Dean asked looking down at his hands on the table.

“So, what now? I know your big secret and now you know mine. Where do we go from here?” she asked a dull ache beginning to form in her heart.

Dean chuckled, “What, that you have a massive crush on me?”

She gave him a pointed look, “Funny Winchester, very funny. I’m trying to be serious here. Do you rec con my brain, so I never knew you and move far, far away? Do we just pretend to ignore one another like nothing ever happen?”

He stood up reaching for her hand, “Come with me.”

She hesitantly took his hand her heart racing as she followed him upstairs to an empty room. Dean stood holding her hand in the middle of the room. “When Sammy was six months old our mother burnt on this ceiling in his nursery. My dad found her and gave Sam to me to get out of the house. Then six months after his twenty-third birthday, his girlfriend Jessica burnt on the ceiling of their apartment at Stanford.”

(Y/N) looked up to the ceiling seeing absolutely no evidence of a fire. “What happened?” she asked as he turned to face her.

“A demon killed our mother and his girlfriend so that Sam would fall in line to lead an army of demons from Hell. Of course, my dad and I would never let that happen and a couple years later I killed that very demon after our dad had sacrificed himself for me.” Dean paused for a moment.

She looked up at him, “Go on.” She said reassuringly.

For the next couple of hours, Dean told her all about their lives leading them back to Lawrence and fixing up their childhood home as a base for their superhero career. They sat on the floor in the room, Dean’s back against a wall while he pulled her into his side placing his arm around her.

“Dean, why are you telling me all of this? Not that I mind because I would love to know everything about you, but why now?” she asked looking up at him.

He bit his lip nervously, “I like you. I like you a lot and this life is lonely. Being a hunter and now a vigilante is dangerous for me, for Sam and for anyone who gets close to us. It’s always only been the two of us and since we’ve been living here we both found someone we want more with.”

His olive eyes were shining as the afternoon sun was starting to set. She smiled up at him, “Found someone, huh? Then you should probably be telling her all of this and not me.”

“Ha. Ha. Funny.” He brushed a stray strand of hair from her face gently trailed his fingers down her cheek. She leaned into his touch watching as his lips moved closer to hers.

“Dean, hey… Oh! Sorry.” Sam said walking into the room.

Dean growled, “What Sam?” he asked through his teeth.

“There is a domestic disturbance a few miles away. You better suit up.” He said chuckling as he left the room.

Dean rested his forehead against hers, “I have to go.”

“I know.” She whispered as they got up walking back downstairs.

“Come on, I’ll show you where everything happens.” Dean said leading her down into the basement.

Sam was sitting in front of three large monitors clicking on a keyboard. There were large TVs with news feeds and traffic cams constantly playing. On the other side of the basement was a training area with weapons for Dean. Then she spotted his outfit hanging up on a door.

Dean was grabbing it disappearing behind the door. As she looked around, he stepped back out full dressed and her eyes traveled up his body. A smug smile spread across his face as he walked over to her. She was holding his mask in her hands.

“So, which do you prefer? Nerdy by day or superhero by night?” he asked.

She reached up running her hand up the back of his neck and pulling his lips to hers. “Both.” She whispered against them as she pulled away handing him his mask. “By the way, keep the glasses look. Nerds are hot.”

His cheeks were as red as his mask as he slipped it on. Walking out a back door that led to where his motorcycle was parked. (Y/N) stood behind Sam as he watched Dean’s helmet camera as he drove down the street.

“(Y/N),” Sam said as she hummed her response, “Welcome to the family business.”

If you enjoyed this story then check out my Masterlist!

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[thong-in-the-twist]

A thank-me-later call

Summary: Jongdae is not tech savvy. But he knows how to call for help.

Jongdae’s POV. Smut. Mentions of waxplay, bondage, sensory deprivation, riding crops. Explicit description of blowjob.

First posted on @its-me-waffles

Jongdae isn’t good with technology. He knows enough to get by, but he is really not tech savvy. He is worlds away from that. Hell, he always joked that he is more of an analogue kind of guy. Which is not really a problem – he owns a smartphone, but he doesn’t feel the need to explore all of its hidden options, or even slightly advanced options. If it takes pictures, calls, lets him browse the internet and send messages – Jongdae is good. And really, if there is something that he’ll need – someone would surely help him out.

It was always like this – someone would come and provide Jongdae with something he really didn’t know he needed or wanted. And usually, he really needed that thing.

Like that first rolled-up porn magazine that his classmate excitedly pushed into his hand during recess back in junior high with excited thank me later.

That “thank me later” became a phrase that Jongdae learned to associate with really good times. Thank me later, he heard in high school, when his friend dropped a USB on his desk. Thank me later was what he heard when Baekhyun installed an add-on in his browser that allowed him to change IP address, walked him through the basics and bookmarked one American porn site for him. (Baekhyun even went as far as leaving post-it note next to the keyboard with an English-to-Korean translation of categories. Which Jongdae immediately discarded and later, faced with categories he couldn’t even understand after translation, he regretted having done that.)

So when he is chilling in his hotel room during CBX’s Japan Tour and Minseok just slides into his room and utters you’re gonna thank me later and grabs Jongdae’s discarded notebook from a desk – Jongdae knows exactly what is going to happen.

Sure enough, Minseok is typing something into browser’s search box and Jongdae is just vaguely interested in what it is. The results would be more important. And so Minseok checks that the site loads correctly and offhandedly puts the notebook on Jongdae’s bed.

Jongdae doesn’t look at the site long after Minseok is gone. He tries to fool himself that he is not eager to check it out. It’s not a secret that in his line of work, one can be pretty lonely. Especially while on tour when he can’t even see his girl.

So finally Jongdae puts down the book he was reading and drags his notebook closer. He tries his best to navigate the site with his limited Japanese, and finally, he settles on something that doesn’t have a too long description and the girl doesn’t look ­too cute. He is pleasantly surprised that he doesn’t need to suffer weird dialogue and video skips right to fucking (which is surprising, to say the least).

But the thing is – it’s not right. He can feel himself getting aroused, the blood in his veins is starting to flow quicker, but he can’t bring himself to open his jeans. It feels strangely wrong, too brusque? Which is plainly weird – he usually doesn’t have problems with masturbation, it’s just tonight it doesn’t feel like it will be enough.

He sighs annoyed at himself. He’s gotten his hopes up (and something else entirely as well), and now he can’t even deal with that. His eyes slide down the screen and he checks the hour – it’s late considering that he has to wake up early. Truth be told he needs to wake up early every day, so it’s not a surprise.

He pushes his laptop away, closes it, not bothering to log off. But he doesn’t stand up to go to the bathroom. He is feeling pretty helpless and moving seems like too much of a hassle. He can still feel the arousal shimmering in his blood and his cock is still pressing against the zipper.

That feeling can be nice. A little bit of discomfort before he gets to experience one of the best feelings in the world. One that he is not going to experience tonight. He blindly searches for his phone, ready to scroll down the sports’ page on naver.

But it’s like his thumbs have their own agenda, he finds himself texting her.

You up?

He stares at his phone dumbfounded and annoyed. It’s such a lame text. Especially in the middle of the night. And the longer he stares at those two words the more he thinks that his intentions couldn’t have been expressed in a way more brusque than that. And what if she is fast asleep (as a normal person should be) and she wakes up tomorrow to that text, only to realize that Jongdae was horny in the middle of the night and tried his luck. That could be awkward.

The night usually covers the embarrassment one would feel in the broad daylight.

When his phone vibrates in his hand, he has to close his eyes for a second. Just to compose himself. To exhale and to pray not to get scolded.

Yeah.

It could have been better, but it also could have been much worse. There is a period in her reply, but there is a reply.

Where you at?

This time the reply comes immediately.

Bed.

The period is still there, which tells Jongdae that she is really trying to convey his annoyance, but he really can’t be bothered. He knows her bed. It’s narrow, obviously a single, and it’s old and it creaks when they fuck on it. Bed’s frame is quite high and more than once he hit it with his knee, more than once he held onto headrest when she rode him. The bed is just next to a wall, and that wall is always so cold against his back when they cuddle in bed afterwards.

Nice.

He knows it’s not the right thing to send even when he writes it. And obviously, the reply doesn’t come. Jongdae can see in his mind how she reads it, laying on her side, eyes squinted in the dark, and she rolls her eyes and stuffs her phone under her pillow, shimmering deeper under the blanket.

His window is closing.

So he calls her.

It takes her four signals. Four signals of Jongdae pressing his phone against his ear, fearing that she might be too annoyed already, or that she put her phone on silent.

But she picks up.

She was always a keeper.

“What do you want?” He can hear her whine as soon as the call sound dies. He smiles, knowing that she can’t see that. He looks down at his crotch where his penis is still very much straining his pants.

“To talk?” He says, but it’s posed as a question. And he expects everything. He expects her to hang up. He expects her to logically point out all the reasons not to do that. Hell, he expects her to go into it. Everything, but that.

“What am I? Sex phone operator?”

“That would certainly be handy.” Is it too much? It’s obviously a joke, and Jongdae manages to put enough of teasing inflexion in his words to be sure that she understands that – but Jongdae would be lying if he was to say that he didn’t mean that.

The silence is long enough for Jongdae to grow restless and consider apologizing. But finally, she snorts.

“Ok.” Jongdae throws his fist in the air, making sure not to make a sound. “I guess I can give you a proverbial hand.”

She is good. Of course, she is good – she knows him. And that one offhand, lewd pun is enough for warmth to start spreading in Jongdae’s chest. He fumbles for his headset, fully believing that it’s going to be worth it.

“Yeah, a hand would be nice.” He says, as he hopes, conversationally.

“And what has gotten you up at this hour?” She asks, and Jongdae can only laugh breathlessly. He finally grabs the headset and connects it with his phone. “I hope it’s not Japanese porn?”

So he might have choked a little bit on that. But again, she knows him.

“Kinda?”

“Then I really need to help you out.” She sounds resigned, but also quite serious. Jongdae knows that it’s only a façade and really – she is joking. “What do you want from me?”

That’s a hard question. He knows the frames of what he wants. He wants her to talk dirty to him. He wants her to paint a scene so real and so voluptuous that he’ll be on the verge of coming down his pants. He wants her to enjoy it, he wants her to enjoy the power she holds over him. But he doesn’t know how to say it. He doesn’t know if what he’ll ask won’t be too much. It shouldn’t because they have sex quite regularly (that should erase the embarrassment, right?).

“You know what? No.” Jongdae’s heart is dropping to his knees in this exact moment. “I am not a sex phone operator – so I will tell you what I want.”

Jongdae hums, pleasant tingling spreading on his scalp. Yes. Very much yes.

“I’d love that.” He says, and she only laughs.

“I knew you would.” Jongdae leans back against his pillows, one hand idly rubbing his thigh. He wants to touch his dick, but he is pretty sure that it will be more rewarding if he waits for her to talk.

“I am ready to hear all of your fantasies.” He says. “Open right up, girl!”

“Please don’t.” She is stern, and he grins at his empty room – well, he might be horny, but the need to annoy her is ever-present.

“Wait do I get to browse the collection?” He asks, and her groan is enough to tell him that no.

“If you don’t shut up I won’t even give you a sample.” She warns and Jongdae does a motion of zipping his mouth – even though she can’t see that. But his silence seems to be enough of an answer because she exhales.

“I was told recently that none of us is a mind reader, and if I want something to happen I should articulate that.” That is definitely not a start Jongdae was expecting, but he is sure that it’s going somewhere so he doesn’t say a thing. “And this moment is as good as any.”

He hums something, lightly tapping his fingers on the bed.

“Have you ever thought about going more kinky in bed?”

That’s a surprise. One that has Jongdae bite his lower lip.

“I am certainly thinking about it now.” He supplies, because hell. Of course, he thought about that. And if kinky is where they are going – then Jongdae is more than happy to listen.

“Because I did.” She breathes the last word right into Jongdae’s ear and it sends a shiver down his spine. She’s good. She always was, she always will be – but does it mean that she wants to go more kinky in real life? Because if yes, Jongdae will probably implode. “I thought about us fucking in your old bed.”

That’s quite confusing. His old bed? How is that kinky?

“In your family home. You know, when we go to visit your parents during holidays.” Oh. “I imagined us trying to keep quiet – because your parents would be sleeping in their room, and your brother in his, but we wouldn’t be able to contain ourselves.”

Jongdae might not be stoked about mentioning his family members in the plot, but he gets the excitement behind that. He knows he is loud. She is quite a moaner herself (but he is sure that he is louder) – so that would raise their adrenaline levels. He can categorize it as mildly kinky.

“Noted.” He says, and she immediately understands that’s her cue.

“Well, still going down this route I imagined me sucking you off somewhere in public.” Jongdae’s hand finally cups his cock. The warmth of his hand and her unabashed comment is a really harmonious duo. “Because you do know that I like your cock, don’t you, Jongdae? I like to feel its weight on my tongue. I like to press the tip of my tongue just under the crown and I love to scrape my teeth down your shaft – knowing how much it puts you on the edge.” Still not really kinky (except for the public part), but it’s enough for Jongdae to decide it’s a good time to pull down his zipper. “But I enjoy it more when it’s the other way around.”

Jongdae stops, feeling how hot his cock is through the soft cotton of his boxers. The other way around, huh?

“I like to get myself off imagining that we are somewhere in public. Library, my work, whatever – as long as there is a table. A table you can hide under so no-one can see you there. No one can see how you spread my knees, and how you dive under my skirt. No one can see how you dampen my already wet underwear with your breath and your tongue – but I can feel it, and I can see people around, and I have to fight to keep my sounds down. I can feel how you drag my underwear down, or not – you just push it to the side. And I have to fight down my blush, my whimpers, I have to fight my urge to slide down on the chair, because you are just that good. Damn, you are so good.”

Her breath is heavier and her words are coming more fluently (even if less coherently). He loves the picture. He can feel it – her hot thighs under his hands, a cold floor under his knees, and her heady smell.  He can hear how she swallows down her moans and whimper, and he knows that he would do his best to make her fail. He hopes, oh he hopes so much that she won’t be able to withstand it, that she’ll touch herself while talking to him.

Because his hand is already circling his cock. He barely pushed down his underwear – her voice in his ear is more important than that.

“I also thought that wax might be interesting.” Jongdae whimpers. Wax, hot, hot wax. “Like, we’d be at mine or at yours, but the set up would be romantic. You know, scented candles, music, all that shit. We don’t really get to fuck slowly, right? But this time we would. You’d blindfold me, you’d bind my hands – oh so my place would be better with the wooden headrest?” She is babbling, but he doesn’t mind because not only wax but also bondage and sensory deprivation. That is definitely not a light deep into a realm of BDSM. “So I wouldn’t expect that. You’d be slow with your hands and lips and nose and teeth, and you’d worship me because I deserve that.” Jongdae smiles, hand twisting on his cock because she is coherent enough to dare him to negate her words. And he’d be mad to even want to. “But you’d take one of the candles, with that generic candle smell, and I would not expect a touch of hot wax on my skin. You’d let the drops of wax adorn my skin – back, belly whatever – and it would burn, but it would be so, so good. I would be asking for more. I would be pleading for more.”

Jongdae is losing his coherency. Fast. He is already leaking onto his knuckles, spreading it around his cock for better glide. It’s good – it’s really good. Of course, her being next to him would be better – but still the picture she got in his head if far better than any porn.

In his delirious (now) state he realizes she is not talking. That something stopped her, and that is a no-no.

“Hi, Babe?” He prompts, pushing his forefinger just under the crown like she said she would. “You are the best.”

He says that, but he says it to make her talk again. And he fully expects her to throw back some sassy answer like obviously or something, but she doesn’t.

“Uh, that one might be… Anyway, it’s only my imagination, and yeah, I don’t expect you to like, fulfil it or anything… I just enjoy it.”

And now, he has to hear it. He doesn’t have the slightest idea what that might be, but with a foreword like that? Damn, it must be good. And his hand stills on his cock, as he waits for her to resume taking.

“Well, I did warn you.” She says, and he can hear her shifting on the other end of the line. “You are on your knees. You have your arms bound behind you. You are naked, but I am not. Not exactly. I am in some kind of sexy lingerie and high heels and garters and maybe stockings. But it’s not important. The important part is how you look at me, eyes hot and wanting – but I am the one in power. And I am not hurrying, walking around you in a circle and tell you that you’ve been a bad boy. And I would have some kind of a riding crop in hand or something like that – but I would keep it on your back, slowly caressing your skin with leather. At least until I would decide to hit you. It wouldn’t be that hard, but you’d lean forward, arms straining the bonds, and you’d hiss, or keen, or moan – because it would hurt, but just enough for it to rile you up. And you’d be there at my every command – because I deserve it.”

It might have been her fantasy, but now – it’s his. She painted the picture, but the details he is adding himself. His hand on his cock is familiar, and frantic because he can smell her skin and leather. He can feel the sudden outburst of pain on his back – going up to his brain and down to his cock. He can feel the rope (because it would be rope and not handcuffs) digging into his wrists and arms. He can feel the carpet on his knees – and he knows they would burn because of abrasions – but she would be so undeniably sexy. Black lingerie would look so exquisite against her skin, and the riding crop would be so threatening and so arousing in her manicured hand. He can imagine her in those dangerously high heels, with one of the stilettos’ heel on his thigh. It would hurt, it would leave a mark – but to be in her power? He’d do anything to experience that. And if she’d later fucked herself on him – mindless of his pleasure, just using him to get what she wants? The bare thought has Jongdae biting his knuckle – his heartbeat is so fast that he can feel the pulsing of his whole body, his dick so sensitive, that he can’t help but sink his teeth deeper into his finger.

And then he hears that. Shuddering breath, quiet, but throaty, right in his ear. He stops, hand squeezing his dick way harder than he should, but he hears it again, accompanied by light rustling – and he knows, he simply knows – that she is fingering herself. She is fingering herself on her old, creaking bed – and really Jongdae can’t hold off any longer.

There is no finesse. Finesse is for moments when she is with him. Finesse is for moments when he is the one fingering her, finesse is for moments when he can smell her arousal when he can taste her skin. He jacks himself off, hand twisting around the head with every slide up, and moments later he is coming, semen spilling on his hand, on his jeans, on his covers.

He is not sure if he moans, or if he wheezes, or if he comes silently. She will probably tell him later.

He sags against the pillows, only now realizing how wet his back is, how perspiration covers his face, how his chest heaves.

But she is still going on the other end. She sighs and mewls, and he wishes so much to be next to her at this moment. He is too spent to properly enjoy that, but he’d gladly give her a hand.

He doesn’t know how long he listens to her, with his come drying on his hand – but he knows that he’ll recall her like that the next time he misses her – how she got herself off on her fingers while talking about what she’d to him.

She comes with a high-pitched, but very familiar moan. He knows that it will be a moment before she’ll speak up again – and he fears (now that he can think) that she’ll be embarrassed about this. And he has to make sure that she knows that’s ok. And that he very much likes the ideas.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to find a way to explain my sudden interest in riding crops if guys happen to find one in my closet.”