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writteninthegarden · 3 years

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She’s Alive

Aaron Hotchner and Female Reader

18+ Only. Minors DNI.

A/N: Timeline is Season 6, Episode 17. So, again as I watched I found myself wondering whether Aaron would’ve told a s/o the truth about Emily after Doyle’s attack. I feel like him not telling anyone would align with canon, but half the fun of FF is taking that left turn instead and seeing what happens. I did try to stay true to Hotch in terms of how much he allows himself to share. Apologies for the somewhat cliffhanger ending. Already working on a next part! Got antsy and wanted to post what I have so far. Also, I resisted making the title Emily in Paris...but the thought crossed my mind.

Summary: Reader notices that Aaron seems distant again and struggles with resisting asking Garcia for details. Aaron apologizes and shares the little he can with reader over a surprise breakfast. Later, reader can tell something bad has happened, but Aaron won’t say. Reader awkwardly finds out about Prentiss from Garcia and runs to comfort Aaron. Surprisingly, Aaron confides in reader with a secret that is tearing him apart.

Word Count: 2930

Warnings/Contains: SFW, Major character death, language, Sad Hotch

It was a catch 22 that you got closer with Penelope as time went on. She was an amazing person and great friend to have. For that you were grateful. However, you realized that closeness made it more apparent when Aaron would resort to old habits and close himself off from you. Thankfully, it didn’t happen often and you knew that was because he made more of an effort to resist that old tendency. Usually it was very minimal. The team would close a case, but you didn’t hear from him until they were on the jet home or landed home. This was only a minor change from when you first started dating and he’d reach out sooner once a case wrapped up. You rationalized that this slight change could be part of being in an established relationship when you both got into the groove of your daily lives.

Your suspicion only came up when Penelope reached out to ask if you were free to move your plans to meet for dinner and drinks up a night. Moving your plans up was no problem. You just didn’t realize their current case was wrapped up and the team had been back for nearly two days.

You did not want to take your friendship for granted or ever treat Penelope like an information source. The fact remained that you were only human and wondering what could be happening. So, instead, you decided you’d instead be comfortable being extremely honest with Penelope.

“I didn’t know the gang was back yet. Did Aaron have to jump right on another consult or like an interview?”

“Yeah, he’s been collaborating with another agency to try and help them with an old case.”

“Ah, figures. And Pen I try to not press you for details, so if it ever feels like I am please check me right there and then.” The waiter dropped off your drinks just then.

“I know, doll. You’re really good about that.” Penelope lifted her fruity cocktail to take a sip.

“I get a lot of practice…anywho…no luck getting the other ladies to join us tonight? I know it was last minute.”

“Yeah, no dice I’m afraid. Can’t blame JJ for wanting to spend any time she’s not working with her boys. I miss her SO much though! She was so good at liaising with the press and victim’s families…both of which are super freaking difficult to do I’m now realizing.”

“Oh, that’s right! You’re wearing all the hats now that she’s with the state department. Miss Penelope Garcia does it all!” You raised your glass to her.

“Hah! More like I barely can do any of it these days. I’m probably partly to blame for keeping your boyfriend even busier than normal. He offered to split the extra work with me and I’m sorry to admit that I couldn’t say no.”

“Pen, that’s okay. I’m just glad you get to try out some parts of the role that interest you. Give Aaron any paperwork…because we both know he secretly loves it for some odd reason.”

You both laughed at that.

“Y/N, can I tell you something? The tricky part is you can’t tell Hotch. I’ll tell him if I get any inkling it’s anything more than a weird gut feeling I had. I totally understand if that’s weird or too much of me to ask.”

“Of course, Pen. At most, I might tell you I think you should tell him but I wouldn’t tell him myself. Whoah, that made no sense.”

“I follow you, don’t worry. So…I’m a little worried about Emily. She’s just seemed off recently. Distant, short fuse, and on edge it seems.”

“That sounds like the polar opposite of her. Obviously, I don’t know her as well as you but I mean from what you’ve shared and the handful of times I’ve seen her. Have you tried talking to her?”

“Yeah, that’s the thing. She pretty much told me she’s fine and I should mind my business. I don’t know. Maybe she’s mad at me?” Penelope’s face fell as she recalled that interaction.

“Aww, Pen. I’m sorry she reacted that way. You have an absolute heart of gold, my friend. I’m sure she knows you only meant the best by trying to help.” You got up from your chair to go hug Penelope.

Mid-hug her phone started to ring. “Sorry, that’s your boyfriend calling me. I’ll just be a minute hopefully.”

“Tell him he’s interrupting a nice hug” you chided as you made your way back to your seat.

Penelope smiled as she said, “yup, no I’m here, sir. Yeah, Y/N and I met up for dinner. Oh, of course. No problem at all. I can be there in travel time. Yes, I definitely will pass that along. Thanks, bye.” Penelope dropped her phone down on the table.

“I know that face. You have to go back? Aaron needs to learn our nights out are off limits.” You both knew that was a joke.

“Yes, I’m so so sorry, pumpkin. Sounds like a case went sideways and Hotch needs us back. Oh! He wanted me to tell you he says, hello!”

Your face must’ve said it all. Wow. That’s something you do with friendly acquaintances to be nice.

“Darling, I’m sure he means well. It’s been stressful lately.” She reached over to pat your hand.

“I know, Pen.” You let out a long sigh. “It just…gets old. I’m sorry. I know you need to go. I’ll grab our drinks if you need to run.”

“Thank you, hun! I owe you a do over on me and I promise I will call you so we can talk more.”

She hugged you and she was off and running. You decided to send Aaron a text.

You: I got your hello from Penelope…Hi back at you

Aaron: I’m sorry, babe. I know that was weird. I’m in the middle of something complicated that I can’t really talk about

You: I had my suspicions, Hotchner. I appreciate you telling me though <3

Aaron: I hate to sound so vague

You: That’s just how it is. Can I help with anything at home? I can stay over with Jack tonight if you think you’ll be working late

Aaron: If you could that would be a huge help! It’s looking like it will be a late night.

He wasn’t wrong. You stirred awake around 4am when Aaron came home. You must’ve fallen asleep on the couch. You sat up and looked around the room for him.

“Hey, sweetheart” he whispered as he took off his shoes. “I’m sorry I woke you. I thought you’d be in bed or I would’ve been quieter.” He walked over to the couch and leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

“I guess I fell asleep out here after Jack went to bed. I heard the door unlocking, but besides that you were in your usual stealth mode. Let’s go to bed.” You stood up and stretched before a yawn came over you.

“Oh, I figured I’d just stay up and take Jack to school.” Your disappointment must’ve been visible because he wrapped you in his arms. “But I can squeeze in a nap and cuddle of course.”

You looked up to meet his gaze followed by a sweet kiss.

The next morning you woke up alone in Aaron’s bed, but this time he’d left a sweet note on the nightstand.

Taking Jack to school and bringing home breakfast for us.

I didn’t want to wake you…again.

I love you and I’ll see you soon.

-Aaron

You got up and dressed to be ready when he came home. When you came out of the bedroom you saw Aaron setting down two cups of coffee. You thought you recognized the takeout containers from a breakfast spot you’d frequented.

“Hey, you. I hope you’re in the mood for Nutella French toast.” His smile was adorable.

“You remembered that I loved their version? Silly question. Of course you did.” You walked over to where he stood next to his breakfast counter and brought your arms to rest over his shoulders. In response, he pulled you up against him and leaned down to softly kiss your lips.

“Baby, it’s looking like the next case we’re working might be a bad one. The unsub is a very dangerous man from what we know so far. The victims are personal to him directly or he makes them personal by hurting people around the victim he really wants.”

“Oh.” You needed a second to process all that. “Does he know you guys are after him?”

“Yes, unfortunately. I might need to keep some distance for this one just to be on the safe side.” He rested his chin on the top of your head.

“From me you mean?”

“Yes. You and Jack. My two loves.” He kissed the top of your head.

“I really appreciate you telling me this. I promise I won’t press you for details you can’t give. Knowing I’ve still got you is enough.”

Aaron was barely home over the next week and a half it felt like. You ended up staying at his apartment the majority of that time to make it easier to help with Jack. The back and forth from your apartment to Aaron’s quickly became too much you realized.

You remembered the day he finally came home from this case because it stood out. It was a nice sunny day, but Aaron looked beyond exhausted. His face appeared pained and weathered. His complexion was pale. His typically clean shaven face stubbled. While his body fought to be present and remain upright, his gaze revealed his mind was still somewhere else.

He holed himself up in his home office when he got home. Relieved when he finally agreed to eat a sandwich, you hurried off to the kitchen to make one.

That’s when you got a text from Penelope asking if a blazer and dress she had looked okay together. Both were dark solid colors and completely out of character for Penelope.

Your reply was sassy, which you thought nothing of at the time. “Jeez, who died?”

Your hand had just barely set your phone back down on the counter when it started ringing.

“Hey, Pen. Listen, if that outfit is to go testify in court or something it’s totally fine. I shouldn’t have shot it down so quickly.”

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“He didn’t tell you, did he?”

“Oh, Pen. If I had a dollar for every time…wait. Are you okay?” You just realized each word she spoke had sounded breathy, like someone trying to hold back tears.

“No, something really really terrible happened. I hate that I always seem to be the one to break this stuff to you.”

“Do you feel up to telling me, Pen? I can try to reach Rossi if not. Aaron hasn’t seemed okay since he came home, so it would help me help him if I know what it is.”

She took a deep breath. “I think I can get through telling you, but forgive me if I have to hang up right afterwards.”

“Of course.”

“Okay. Well, no nothing is okay. Emily was kidnapped by the unsub she had helped capture in her previous job. He tortured her. We got her to the hospital and into surgery as fast as we could, but…” She shuddered. “We were too late. She’s gone. Oh, god. I’m sorry, Y/N. I need to go.” Penelope hung up before you could reply.

Holy crap, you thought. Emily Prentiss. The fierce, strong, and yet incredibly kind person you started to get to know. You knew Aaron must be going through hell. You abandoned the sandwich ingredients on the counter and quickly made your way to him.

You knocked lightly on his office door.

“Come in. Sorry, sweetheart that’s a force of habit.”

You weren’t sure if he looked worse than before or you were picking up on more details now that you knew. He wasn’t crying, but his eyes were wet like he had been resisting the urge. From the way his lips were pursed, you were pretty sure he must be biting on his lower lip.

Quickly, you walked over to him and walked behind his desk to be closer. The only thing you could think of to say was his name as you threw your arms around him.

“Aaron.”

“Yes?” His voice was sheepish.

“I’m here, love.” You squeezed him tighter.

“Did someone…?”

“Yes” you said as you cradled the back of his head with your hand. “Penelope called me.”

He took a deep breath. “I don’t know if I made the right call. This is all because of me.”

“Baby, I’m sure you all fought like hell to help her. I understand as the boss you feel this way, but none of this is because of you.”

“It is though. My team is down an amazing agent and grieving her loss. They’ll never be the same and it’s because of me.” He buried his face in his hands and fought off what sounded like a sob trying to break through.

“What can I do for you right now, Aaron?” You kept your tone soft and gently moved your hand to his. “Do you want to move to the couch so I can hold you? We can talk more if that feels right or we don’t have to talk at all if you don’t feel up to it.”

“I just want to stay here. Will you come sit with me?” He rolled his desk chair back so you could sit on his lap. Once you sat down you reached up to loosen his tie.

“Let’s take this off so you can be a little more comfortable, okay?” He nodded. You lifted the tie over his head once it was loose enough since that just seemed like the fastest way in the moment. Then you brought your hand back to gently massage his hair and scalp. You didn’t want to overwhelm him, but hoped it might bring him even the smallest bit of comfort in that moment.

“What if I was wrong?” His voice was so unlike his usual tone. This was quiet and pained. You worried that he was blaming himself and also internally feeling so much more that he kept hidden.

“What do you mean, babe?”

“I had a split second to decide. I could’ve made the wrong choice.”

“Aaron, I’m sure you made the right choice since you found them. You guys stopped this monster from hurting her more.” You took your other hand and held his.

“He can never know. It would all be for nothing.”

“I don’t understand, Aar. Who can never know what?”

“The unsub.”

“You guys will get him.” You pulled him in close for a hug. Maybe it was selfish, but you needed one.

“He can’t find her. I won’t let him.”

“Do you think he would damage her grave? He’d have to be really bold to go somewhere you’d expect.”

“Not her grave.” He shook his head. You were so confused. The shock might explain the detachment, but he wasn’t making a lot of sense.

“Who can’t he find then?”

“Emily.”

You pulled back from your hug to meet his eyes. He looked relieved, but horrified at the same time. Maybe this was denial?

“I made a decision I can’t take back. I didn’t realize how much it would consume me.” He motioned that he wanted to get up and you quickly stood up from his lap. He walked over to the window and gazed outside. He seemed transfixed like he was trying to find something.

“Aaron, I’m worried. I might know the answer already, but…if there’s anything you can tell me I want you to know that I’m here. Always.” You remained behind his desk in case he got up to get some space.

“She’s alive.”

“What???” You were sure you misheard him.

“You heard me correctly. I promise I haven’t had a psychotic break. I can feel your eyes burning a hole in my back, you know.”

“I’m sorry. How? What? Where? I have about a dozen other questions racing through my mind right now.”

“Y/N, I can’t. I’m sorry. What I said needs to remain in this room. In fact, I need you to essentially forget it. We all need to carry on as if…even my team does not know.”

What the fuck? That was the first of many language filled thoughts now running through your head. How would you ever be able to keep that from the BAU? You could handle not telling them, but they’re profilers. Someone was bound to sniff the truth as soon as you set foot in their office.

“Aaron, they must be planning services. How can…I don’t know how to carry on and offer condolences at something like that.”

“You don’t have to attend. It might be better that way.”

“No, I can’t skip that Aaron. I’ll pull it together by then I guess.”

“You’ll have to unfortunately. I’m sorry to burden you like this.”

At that, you nearly ran over to him and enclosed your arms around him. “Baby, you didn’t burden me. I’m so thankful you let me in here. I love you.”

“I love you too.” He shifted to wrap his arms around you now, which was a familiar feeling you didn’t know how badly you needed.

“So…what’s next? How can I prepare?”

Aaron sighed. “You’ll have to compartmentalize. Sometimes it’s the only option.”

~Next part to follow~

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #hotch xreader #hotch x y/n

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proudtobealuthor · 3 years

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So I’m rereading the house of night books for the first time since I was like a sophomore and I’m on Betrayal now and bruh Zoey is so goddamn fruity for Neferet like ffs that bitch can’t go two seconds without talking about how pretty she is (which mood you useless gay) but also this book is so old it reads like a watt pad fanfic and it’s just very 2008 so obviously Zoey is painfully straight but like still. This bitch is fruity as hell

#zoey redbird #house of night #p.c. cast #kristin cast #marked #vampyre #neferet

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curiousview-blog · 3 years

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The weird old world of ‘soft drinks’

This is Part 19 of ‘How to stop drinking: A guide for normal people’. It’s a series in which I am sharing my reflections and tips on living, and staying sober, in a fun, honest, down-to-earth way to show that an alcohol-free life is possible. Previous chapters can be found below on www.samwarren.net

When I stopped drinking, I never really thought about what I would drink instead. But nothing could have prepared me for the utter drought of nice, non-alcoholic drinks that I would encounter in pubs, restaurants and clubs. This was in 2011, and although things have definitely improved since then (I’m writing this ten years later in 2021) it’s frankly still a bit shit in most of the places you’ll go on a night out with friends. Especially nightclubs.

One of the reasons I didn't feel instantly well after quitting alcohol was because my sugar intake went through the roof. Pretty much the only alternative to an alcoholic drink in a pub or club is sugar laden fizzy pop or calorific fruit juice (which is a goddamn meal FFS!) unless you can bear to drink diet coke, or are happy to just drink water. And of course you’re not happy to just drink water… YOU WANT A FUCKING GIN AND TONIC. This makes the lack of appealing alternatives even more crushing to the newly sober human. As if this weren’t enough, there's the expense of the horrible things. Dear sweet Lord paying through the nose for a drink you don't want or need that won't even get you pissed!? Talk about rubbing salt in your still smarting sober scars.

One of the more obvious realisations I came to - quite quickly - was that I only wanted a soft drink when I was thirsty. Who knew, huh?! Sure, having something to hold at a party/ In a club/ at dinner is really really important, but as for actually drinking it because you want to? Well, you'll have had your fill after one or two, but your well meaning friends will continue to cajole you into 'having another'. When I was quite newly sober, I went to stay with heavy drinking friends who'd kindly bought in THREE bottles of non-alcoholic red wine, just for me. Which tasted disgusting. I barely managed to make it through three glasses… but even if it had been nice, I had no desire to drink 2.25 litres (half a builder's bucket) of slightly slimy, watered down grape juice, bless them. I’d have probably done the same in their shoes to be fair. I’m pleased to say that there are now some excellent no-alcohol, or de-alcoholised wines available in supermarkets, but sadly, almost no pubs or restaurants have them on the menu, which is pretty much exactly when you want them most. Even if they did, the fact remains that you don’t really want more than a couple of glasses of them, because there’s no alcohol in them whispering you into having another, and then another.

The McGuigan Zero range (available in Tesco) is one I have especially been enjoying lately.

The only effect of having drink after drink when you are sober is to fill your bladder, make you fat/ rot your teeth/ give you Type 2 diabetes. Sugary drinks are kids drinks. Alcoholics have battered adult palates - bitter ales, dry whites, robust reds, the acidic tang of gin, the throaty burn of vodka… And that, my friend, is when Lime and Soda Is your absolute saviour. I actually think Lime & Soda is the sober person’s superhero. Like the chickpea is to vegans… In some pubs it’s as cheap as 50p a pint, In others you'll be fleeced for as much as £2.50… But it's not too sweet, sparkles like fizz (buttery effervescence on the tongue, you know) and if you have it in a tall glass with ice and a slice, no-one will ever know it's not a G&T. Another good one is ginger beer - it has the kick of alcohol and leaves you feeling warm in your mouth. Take care though as it's often high in sugar, although that can be great for a buzz from time to time too.

But as I said at the start, things are getting better for non-drinkers. The world (well, the UK) seems to be slowly waking up to the fact that non-alcoholics still want the 'fun and treat' of something nice AND FUCKING GROWN UP to drink when we go out (nightclubs are a pathetically sad exception to this). There are now no-alcohol cocktails on lots of restaurant and bar menus - we'll leave aside the disparaging and ‘goody-two-shoes’ labels of 'mocktails' and 'virgins' to one side for now and just say thanks. I've also found bar-tenders are happy to whip you up a fruity creation off-piste if you ask. And there are coffee syrups If you're not feeling the fruit. The Dead Canary in Cardiff made me the most amazing concoction once - like a Brandy Alexander, creamy, chocolatey coffee with a dash of chilli for a kick.

Me at The Dead Canary in Cardiff, December 2016

Another kind barmaid in Piccadilly fashioned me a long delicious thing to die for that tasted of cherry bakewell and looked as beautiful as could be. My visit to a skyscraper restaurant Manhatta in New York was topped off with a lovely alcohol-free martini, and pretty much every pub now stocks at least one brand of no-alcohol lager - which is frankly so awesome that I have devoted a forthcoming chapter to the stuff, and other ways to ‘be in disguise’.

My birthday ‘Martini’ at Manhatta in New York, March 2019

#non-alcoholic drinks #alcohol culture #women and alcohol #women's writing #mocktails #soft drinks #sober living #sober life #livingsober #stop drinking #quit drinking #recovery stories #recovery from alcohol #recovery #control alcohol #control drinking

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imasimpforstevengrant · 4 years

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Into you

@raven-romanoff

@maristela1968

@flaky178

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Author's note:

First off... Gif made from the original video.

https://youtu.be/iqDUGD8SHF4

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I have to confess I wanted to write another smut for Arthur/Harleen since the first one I wrote wasn't so satisfying... So, here it is! It took me a long time to write it (two months, actually. Bless the writer's block, FFS) so I hope you like it!

Second, sorry for any typos because english is not my first language (Chilean Spanish Strikes Back once again lol).

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Summary: Follow up to "I feel you". After his first night with Harleen, Arthur cannot get enough of her... And she has more in store for him than just a few warm, kind words.

Warnings: insecurity, (considerable) age gap, self loathing, swearing, masturbation (both receiving), strong sexual themes, unprotected sex, mild dirty talk... And smut.

Words: 8.540 (sorry if it's too long. I hope you don't get bored)

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The clock marked 5:46 a.m. when Arthur opened his eyes. He had a blanket over his frail, undressed form and was alone. The missing presence of Harleen alarmed him, believing it was another painful hallucination or worse. The idea she regretted the union and decided to lock in her bedroom to sleep by herself harassed his mind incessantly.

As soon as the neon lights shone before his eyes, he knew everything was alright. He almost fell on the couch again, relieved. But he never stopped asking where she was, though the calm background around him tenderly convinced the convulsed psyche to not keep tormenting.

As he yawned, taking a seat, he replayed everything that happened a few hours ago.

He just had sex.

Chuckling, he lit up a cigarette. And thought about what happened one more time so his brain would memorize it.

Harleen allowed him to touch her.

The memory of her moaning and straddling him set him on fire. Harleen had such a good time and he loved to see her enjoying it. The killing eagerness to repeat the act, just to see her again coming undone, to hear her lustful moans slowly took over his mind.

He took a deep breath and looked for his hoodie. The cloth in question was found on a puddle of mixed garments, which included her peach coloured pajamas and his pants. Arthur took the blanket off partially to grab the sleeveless shirt with certain desperation to smell it, to prove himself this wasn’t his imagination. The sweet, fruity smell filled his nose, almost submerging him into a high state. It wasn’t enough, though. A profound nuzzle into the garment served as a vain way to revive the sensations experimented as Harleen let his mouth roam over her chest. He absorbed the fresh, fruity scent. Eventually the need the dirty habit brought with it overcame the ritual that reduced Arthur to a starving animal. As the hunger diminished, he put the piece of clothing aside. Arthur took his time, remembering the initial goal by rummaging the cloth puddle: the pack of cigarettes showed up coming out the right pocket in a scalene triangle shape. He took it immediately, also taking the lighter.

As he smoked his cigarette, for the first time he thought how lucky he was. As a malevolent chuckle reverberated through the air, he finally savoured what was that contact he yearned so much. A sensation of being an ordinary man nested on his heart. That’s what an ordinary man had, right? A job, a girlfriend, a sex life. He laid back on the couch again, bathing in this new, positive emotions. Looking at the shelf full of books, small crystal figures and a portrait of her holding a scroll, most likely her diploma once she got her degree. Arthur quickly got up to hold the portrait, watching it carefully. She seemed so… happy.

Returning the portrait to its original place, he stepped to the couch again. His thoughts clouded by the wonderful moment Harleen shared with him: loved how gentle she was, how considerate and patiently handled the loss of his celibacy in such an skilled way. It was the first time he truly felt in tune with someone in his entire fucking life. It was way beyond the physical bonding. He couldn’t find the words for it but he was sure about how he felt.

Seen.

While Arthur was searching another cigarette to smoke, another rowdy idea swarmed in his mind: he had never found himself attractive, given his eternal history of rejection from everyone and his frail appearance just increased the mute but obvious aura of dislike around him. What were the odds for a woman like Harleen to fall for him? One in a million. Her looks could perfectly allow her a good life as a model and her kindness and easygoing personality would even take her farther away from the poverty of the building. Yet, she didn't seem interested in pursue a better, new life. She could perfectly have any man at her mercy and still she preferred to stay, actually giving a damn about others.

Suddenly his self loathing bloomed fully again. What could he possibly offer her, except for misery and sorrow? Nothing. Nothing but a unquenchable thirst for her. An aged, pained soul devoid of love. She deserved better. A strong man.

A man of her own age.

Quickly his eyes closed. The hated guilt, the same he swore he had overcome, came back like a furious, stormy surge. Arthur felt he had committed an unforgivable sin by sleeping with her. She was so precious, so joyful... And so young. Things Arthur was far from. He was so inexperienced, so clumsy, so flawed... A dark part of him felt he had defiled her, that he had taken advantage of her gentleness to sate his own selfish desires. This sense of perversion flooded his mind, reducing the happy moment to a mistake that shouldn't have been. His lungs crumpled the air, if the smoke didn't disperse it. The hand that left free palmed the forehead, to drive away the negativity.

Suddenly his mind remembered the laughing fit. And the gentle hug that followed it. The pieces in this puzzle came together. Harleen holding him right against her chest in a searing yet tender embrace. Not even his mother would offer such comforting balm.

Arthur then let a short cackle to shatter the silence. He definitely had something but he did not know for sure what was that something. It had to be more than just being a 'hard working man'. If she was so gentle with him, surely a feeling was on the way. To his mind comes the tender memory of their first meeting. The first thing he got from her was a warm, kind smile through the fence.

Of course, the cursed fit fucked up everything. But it happened! The open palm patted his chest, calming down the turbulent flow inside of him. The happy memory of their first meeting brought also the passionate moment of the first kiss which almost led them to the bed.

Arthur processed a thousand things that night. But one thing was for certain: that night Harleen awoke a hunger he had never felt in his life. Never saying it but showing it in their kissing sessions. He remembered that one time when he was expecting her to return after her shift. It was late at night. His knee bounced while Arthur smoked three cigarettes in the meantime. But he wasn’t alone. There were two young men a few feet away who minded their own business. Arthur feared them to be robbers but nothing happened. He put his hoodie on and kept smoking. A bus arrived but she wasn’t among the four people who stepped down from the vehicle. Two more came, but she was never among them. It started to get on his nerves when a taxi finally stopped and revealed the lovely passenger:

As soon as Harleen set foot outside, Arthur jumped out from the bench. The two other men witnessed the scene: their faces changed from curiousity to actual surprise when the blonde threw her arms to the man who evidently was older than her. But the lovers didn’t care. Their kiss was so heated that the youngest of the two muttered “damn” under his breath. They couldn’t stop staring at them, but Arthur was too focused on sharing their lips in a desperate dance. He was oblivious to the envy he inspired in every man whenever Harleen would display her affection in public. Therefore, he didn’t care. He longed to take the initiative in their eventual intimate encounter but the fear his inexperience would ruin it prevented any attempt to start intimacy. Harleen was aware of how hard was for him to begin with physical contact, though he never denied it. She could tell he had so much to say by just looking at his eyes. Patience with him would pay off. And the worst part of all this? The fits.

The fucking laughing fits. And Harleen could only hug the pain away against her chest while his head found shelter in it. He froze in the position where he basically clawed to her body. It was the third time he had one in front of her, the second being in the empty subway after a date. It was after a careless kiss Harleen granted to his lips while waiting for him to go off work. He could tell she had been drinking: she was way more affectionate than usual. The spontaneous caress on his lips took him by surprise. He laughed at his fucking frustration on how he could possibly cope with what was regarded as the ultimate loss of personal space. He considered himself as a romantic at heart but Harleen’s overwhelming passion reminded him of how inexperienced he was, how unsure he was actually feeling relating to his damaged masculinity.

It was almost like a pessimistic prelude before their first night together, since Arthur did not have the chance to come closer to her disregarding sex. He just had kissed and embraced her, restraining his touches to her face, neck and waist but never beyond there. Arthur preferred the silent sensuality of passiveness, though he desired to sink down deep inside of her.

The crude self loathing drifted to another question: Where was she?

Taking the blanket off him and putting his pants on, Arthur wandered over the flat and saw a dim orange light glowing behind the door, which was open just a crack. Analysing the lit lines, he then paid attention to the steam coming from the bathroom. He stopped breathing, closing his eyes to not commit the sin to spy on her.

His right hand knocked the door, leaning into it expecting the answer. A few seconds later, her voice approved him to get into the place. Arthur got in, anxious.

The sight of her completely overrode his senses. He stood completely frozen trying to process, once again, what was happening. The mere action of this impious gaze was enough to make him turn his head. She bursted out laughing. And hearing she wasn't upset with his presence managed to look at her.

Harleen was on the bathtub, laying on her back. Her damp hair covered her chest while the foam didnt allow to see more of her body. This didn't upset him, of course. This new glimpse of his lover was something he would never forget.

Amused by his priceless expression, Harleen covered her face.

"Are you in need for another ride, Mr. Fleck?", She asked, temptingly.

Arthur licked his lips as he closed the door behind him.

"After that? Always". The steps towards her made Harleen change her position to lie on her side, to grant him a better sight. He sat on the floor, eyes concentrated maniacally in her figure. Her soft, wet hand touched his own, intertwining her fingers with his for a brief moment to kiss them.

Arthur stared at her for long seconds. Harleen didn't seem uncomfortable despite how much he struggled to remain modest. She couldn't blame the poor guy. Her pose was way too sensual to be indifferent. The appreciation showed a silent invitation for more intimate contact, for more comfort and company. He could only see her precious lower curvature showing partially. Her left arm covered her chest while supporting herself on the edge of the bathtub with the other hand. He loved how much sensuality she oozed even when she did nothing.

“Did you have a good sleep?”

Arthur replayed the question to process it.

“Yes” he simply nodded, “but it seems you didn’t. You weren’t there when I woke up”.

“I don’t sleep too much, Arthur. Just needed to take a bath to refresh myself after our hot, noisy turmoil”.

Arthur grinned widely. And it wasn’t only for the friendly reminder of why he felt excited. He darted his eyes towards the platinum strands of hair stuck on her face, falling down to stick to her shoulders and forearm, creating a sinuous curve that lined her hip with blue shades. After a few awkward seconds of silence, Harleen finally pronounced:

“So, since we’re in this situation… would you like to talk about what happened?”

“Yes”. Arthur was anxious to take advantage of any chance he’d had to end up in the bed with her. But he was too nervous to start a conversation about the subject. She noticed it and did her best to not put him in an uncomfortable position. Arthur just glared at her.

“It feels so different when you don’t have to lay your hands on yourself”, he cleaned the sweat that formed in his forehead, “it’s different to have a… um”, doing his best to retain the stammer that prevented a fluid talk, he tried to look for the right words to describe what happened in his head.

“A…?”

“It’s different when you see it than to experience it. It feels better when you have a body next to you”, he gulped, trying to swallow the nervousness, “it was a long little yearn since I began to understand these things about…”

“About sex?”

“Yes” was his answer, “I’m sorry if I sound strange. But this conversation is too personal and… and all this is new for me. I never thought I would be with a woman like that and it turns out it’s better than I expected”.

Harleen tilted her head, paying attention to every single word.

“Is there something you liked in particular?”

Arthur lowered his head, trying to think and replay the scene. From the passionate, tenderly patient foreplay to the scandalous and thirsty ride. There were so many good moments to pick one in particular. But then, her voice broke his thoughtful immersion.

“Or maybe was there something you did not like?”

This drew a devilish, naughty grin in Arthur.

"What's not to like about it?” his hand slicking back the fluffy hair, “We fucked like crazy and you ask me if there's something I did not like about it?", the verdant glow turned darker. Harleen rose an eyebrow, expectant. Arthur began to pant and cleared his throat in an almost hilarious way to hide his incipient arousal.

"I couldn't resist... I simply couldn't... because I've been wanting to do those things to you since I saw you--" a chuckle left his mouth at the raw confession. A painful slap on his mouth to quieten down the noise made Harleen immediately sat in case a fit of laughter would tear his throat apart again. Extending her hands to grab his forearms, the violent move shook her long, wet hair which allowed the loner to catch a glimpse of her naked chest.

The fit, thank goodness, never came. Arthur just coughed, waving his hand so any sense of worry Harleen felt would dispel in time. As things settled down, Arthur continued the talk where it left off.

“This—this feels like a very good beginning. But—“ his words concluded but his expression reflected a profound thought he couldn’t put words on yet.

“It’s alright. You can tell me”.

It took a long while to answer. There was almost completely silent if it wasn’t the for the tense breathing that Arthur fought to control.

“You really enjoy doing this to me, do you?”, Arthur embed the green spell his eyes had cast on her.

Harleen’s expression went from amusement to actual surprise. There was more from him to tell her, however. She nodded almost imperceptibly to give him the confidence he needed.

“You never felt uncomfortable with me even when you knew the things I wanted to do to you from the beginning. You let me kiss you, you let me touch you… you were never afraid to show me your body from the first day as you now do” he came closer to her, demanding answers, “until a while ago, I thought I could never awake those reactions on a woman. But I did”. He licked his lips, tilting his head to stare at her, “do you enjoy doing this to me?”

“By saying ’this’ you refer to… provocation?”

“Yes”, Arthur’s tone of voice revealed his relief to finally know the word for the aforementioned action.

Harleen hummed, thoughtful.

“I did not intend to provoke you to torture you. I intended it just to get your attention. You left just before the best part in our first kiss and I’ve been craving you in that way as well since. I wanted you to touch me… yet our caresses did not go beyond a cuddle or a kiss, so I thought that leaving the door unlocked after I arrived from work, wearing a few pretty clothes would give you a hint to come to me so we could be together like that at last”.

Arthur was completely mute at this point.

“But if you feel uncomfortable with me like this, I won’t keep on” she raised her hands in a childish sign of surrender. Arthur shook his head.

“It’s not the fact I don’t want to touch you. It’s… another thing. I know you won’t deny me your body. There are so many things…” he ruffled the disheveled hair in an involuntary move to relax.

“What?”

Arthur sighed, finally finding the courage to voice what troubled him.

“How’s that you don't feel uncomfortable with my condition or—“

“Or…?”

Arthur gulped.

The hardest (and the most perverted) part would come to be verbalised.

“My… appearance?”

“What the fuck is wrong with your appearance?”, Arthur sighed and replied:

“I look old enough to be your father!” the green eyes pierced hers. If only the thought of it was dirty, confessing it was downright indecent. Eyelids were tightened to the point it caused him pain, in a futile attempt to erase any improper thought in which Harleen was the protagonist. However, her voice exploded with loud cackles, splashing the water with open palms. Was she actually laughing at him? He frowned, getting upset and impatient to obtain a good answer.

“And…?” was all she said, much to his chagrin. The puzzled glare did not display satisfaction for his part.

“Doesn’t that… disturb you?”

“In the slightest. It’s actually quite the opposite” she supported her chin on the edge of the bathtub, staring up to him while biting her lip playfully. Then in a false pretension of innocence, she giggled, her hand making a move to tell him to come closer to her.

“That’s one of the many reasons why I like you very, very much”. The sweet sinful sound of the whisper was irresistible to Arthur, whose lids were almost completely closed, jaw slightly dropped. The reality of this situation caught him off guard. It was unbelievable to the point of obscenity and a persistent need to step back from his lewd intentions out of disgust on behalf of common modesty.

“I like you, Arthur Fleck" her face came closer to his and in a manner so typical of her, took his hand to open it from the fist it had reduced to in order to grant it a provocative kiss on his fingers, sliding the bottom lip against them.

Remaining silent and completely hypnotized by the scene, Harleen proceeded to trace invisible lines with the tip of her fingers on the early, harsh wrinkles that were more of a proof of how devastating his life was. It was a testament, a living, bleeding monument of how much cruelty and indifference could drive a man to insanity. Her thumb ran assiduously on his lip scar, which she found gorgeous to look upon. His breath shortened, pupils dilated, blood flowing to his groin.

Her digits now went over those adorable dimples that only increased the odd beauty of his mirthless, worn out face. His eyes moved from one direction to another, trying to cope with this tender attention, closing them eventually, leaving the embarrassment aside. He smiled but her voice shattered the moment.

“How can I judge you for a condition you did not wish to suffer?”, her fingertips ran over the notorious wrinkles in his forehead, “it’s not your fault”.

She admired the subtle silver hair that would make the brown hue fade in time, ending the journey all over his face.

“You find me… attractive?”

“Well of course I fucking do”.

Again, the green menacing eyes had the effect on her.

“What is it that I have that you like so much?”

Murmuring against his lips, she replied:

“You’re oddly attractive” she held his face to reinforce their bond, “and yet you don’t know it” she kissed the lip scar, “of all the men I've been with, no one has looked at me in the way you do".

Arthur set all his focus on the praising words, which served to mend or to relieve a little the inhuman treatment he had received from the world as long as he remembered. There was nothing he could do, except process and replay the words every time a silence took place between them. Kindness seemed a far ghost, a laughable little dream, a cruel joke.

A pause allowed them to hear a few cars passing by, followed by sirens of an ambulance. It didn’t matter, since none of them mentioned it.

"I've never met a man who's been so grateful for a kind greet or a simple smile. I couldn't help it that rainy day you came back from work to talk to you. At first I had an idea about my secret admirer simply being another guy who drooled over my ass. I would have never imagined the man behind my steps was so hungry for affection. Your eyes are an open book, Arthur. I noticed your intentions... and I liked the idea of you and me together like that from that night”.

Arthur directed his hands to her lips, holding the ever persistent, painful question that scarred his psyche:

Was she real?

His hands touched down her jawline and neck. Just a stare and Arthur told her everything. Because, somehow he knew that it was through an intense stare that lovers could tell the most intimate things. He spoke through his body, through dance. But what about sex? What about the act that dazed him so much? She actually understood why he needed intimate contact with such urge. The repression he hated so ardently for being a cruel insult to his ego tasted so differently now that she sated the thirst just to leave him craving for more. He felt… like all the years with no female attention were worth it if the pleasure people would lose their heads about was true.

"I want to make you feel good. It’s what you deserve. And if no one gives you relief, then I’ll gladly do”, she put a curly lock behind his ear.

But before any sparkly iniciative took ahold of his voice to manifest the need to consummate their relationship for a second time, Harleen pronounced, as a pleasant surprise for his intentions:

"Because you know” her gaze was pure, burning lust, “I could use a good fuck right now". Her tone of voice was seductive, though secretive, like confessing a small misdemeanor. His hand was not free from her soft grasp and her teeth gifted it with a tiny nibble. Arthur’s body stiffened, processing the words. However, no reply emerged from his mouth. The attention was entirely drawn to her face. The suggestive smile betrayed her reciprocity related to his intentions. He was so lost with the tantalising promise of more affection that he missed out the loving, yet flirtatious offer Harleen uttered.

"Huh?" Arthur shook his head.

"Come on, I'm bored". Her mouth adopted a puerile pouting in an attempt to persuade him, "I'm bored, play with me".

Harleen crawled out from the bathtub, exposing her bare, wet body for the loner to see. Arthur's breath immediately cut off, his heart galloping wildly. Her milky, marmoreal skin glistened with drops of water which marked thin creeks all her body before the enraptured glance of the loner. This was an erotic image that Arthur could have only dreamt of.

Once again his hands served as the eccentric – and intrusive – instrument to trace the almost invisible, indiscernible line between fantasy and reality while the blonde was only entertained by his obvious, euphoric goodwill to comply her wish. She sat next to him.

"P-play... with you?" He repeated, battling the urge to faint, holding her body in his arms.

"Like you did on the couch with me", her hands held his face gently to kiss it, to then throw her arms to his shoulders, “touch me, Arthur. Touch me. Don’t be afraid”. The mentioned man was unable to pronounce anything, reducing his exploration by touching blindly her waist and back. She continued pressing her nude body, taking delight on watching her Arthur plunged her into a solid, vigorous embrace, absorbing her, holding her nape so hard to not allow her escape, focused on how good her wet hair felt against his chest… as if her bare bossom wasn’t the best part of it.

Harleen slid her fingers over his left shoulder, becoming more familiar with the protruding bone. She placed her hand in the same place where Arthur told her not to. This caused an immediate response from him. As Harleen noticed the horrible, vast bruise all over the right shoulder blade. A gutural groan warned her. She quickly apologized. But Arthur shook his head.

“It’s nothing. People are not precisely kind when they see me at work”.

The dark brown eyebrows arched in a sad expression. Her left arm assured a stable position for what she had in store for him. Arthur had no idea of what it was, but he knew it would be mind-blowing.

“I can make you feel good”, he leaned his head in her forehead. Despite his celibacy was no more, all these touches were still new for him and he wanted to treasure them as much as he could. Air was heavy. The fear of another laughing fit ruining the moment clouded his mind but Harleen didn't seem to notice. The devoted, passionate embrace that held them so close just fed the fire inside him to take things to another level.

Specially when her hand, teasing and avid, slipped above the pants where his manhood had responded to the visual, constant incentive. Fumbling the part to gradually pull down the pants in an enthralling motion that rendered the loner totally speechless. Once the cloth allowed his member to be graced by her hand.

He gasped, jolting at the sensation of the damp but warm hand around his length. It was so unbelievable that just yesterday, that part had met his own contact during years. The rapture again battled with the persistent and its idea that everything was his imagination. Negative thoughts misting the moment. No kind touches except from Penny. But even she seemed aloof, unaware on how much damaged her own son was. This fade away once the caresses grew steadier.

The rhythm of his breathing violently shook his chest up and down. He undid the hug partially to stare at the zone she paid so much attention to. His fully erect hardness receiving such caring treatment was taken straight out of a fantasy. His eyes couldn’stop glaring at the precious sight of the delicate hand going up and down in a maddening sway. He threw his head back, panting.

“Like that--just like that- please. Don’t stop it”, he whispered, holding to the border of the tub, his voice broke out in agonizing moans, varying from groans and hoarse screaming, mixed with very sharp swearing as the building up to the peak made presence as minutes went by. His legs trembled almost uncontrollably, hips thrusting up constantly.

Harleen of course was greedy. Taking advantage of the situation, her mouth sucked the prominence located at his neck to then lick it. Her sensual chuckle vibrated as she slid down the free hand on his convulsed chest, tenderly pressing it to calm down the crazed heartbeat. It didn’t take too long for him to start feeling a vertiginous shiver that expanded all over his groin. Sensing the situation was started to get out of his hands, the blonde rushed in:

“Don’t hold back. Do it”.

Arthur gasped as the climax hit him. He groaned into the air as the fierce hustle concluded. He was shaking, trying to not make a mess. The niveous strings spread all over the floor. Harleen glanced the scene, amazed to see Arthur a little less stressed. He lolled his head back, still pursuing the first intense feeling standing motionless, arms to his side, almost in a trance. Nothing could take the wide smile off him.

A soft massage to his collarbone made the aforementioned man react at last.

“My, my. You’re such a bombshell” Arthur muttered, blatantly ogling her. She smiled, smooching his cheek to quickly get up, much to his surprise. Harleen took a towel to wipe her hands and her body, leading her steps out of the bathroom. The loner was about to protest when she asked:

"Are you waiting for an invitation, Mr. Fleck? Or isn't the sight enough to motivate you to come to bed with me?"

The fascination held him still for a second, thinking the words that echoed in his mind repeatedly while enjoying the blonde's shameless exhibitionism. He turned the lights off as he searched for her. The outside lights prevented a complete darkness in the apartment. The drizzle hit the windows, creating a perfect, almost dreamlike atmosphere.

He had to see her to confirm his yearn could become real. And so, he found her stepping into the promised place, while the towel dried the mane, which seemed longer now, almost reaching the highest part of her thighs. Arthur got rid of his pants immediately.

Just about to reach the other foot to the room, Arthur extended his hand to reach her shoulder so she could turn to face him. Harleen was unable to suppress a surprised expression at the glimpse of his now completely naked body, causing to drop the towel.

Once she called his name, Arthur took her face between his hands to crash his lips on hers, pressing them into his several times to crown the passionate caress leading her in to the bedroom, their bodies entangled, anguished in a needy dance. They almost tripped over but the weak white light coming from a small lamp on the nightstand prevented it. He didn't pay too much attention to the surroundings once his body fell over hers on the bed. It were only them in this moment, and being on top of her unleashed a feverish want his psyche and body were not capable to contain anymore.

"You've chosen wisely, Mr. Fle--" his tongue was so insisting on earning a place inside her mouth that her words didn't come. Not that it bothered her, of course. Arthur’s eyes shone in a different light. It wasn’t just an exciting new hue. His fluffy dark hair, his lean muscles made a combination that made Harleen genuinely think that the man who was just a breath away to possess her wasn’t Arthur. His eyes had become greener. His stare was not only predacious. It gave the impression that he intended to enter not only her body but her soul too.

Harleen extended her hand towards the lamp to sink the room in darkness. She was close to success in her action if it wasn’t for Arthur mimicking it, just to ask her not to.

“It’s more exciting in the dark.”

“Why?”

“Because you only feel. You see nothing”.

Arthur whispered against her mouth:

“But I want to see you”.

Harleen rolled her eyes, laughing.

“Alright then” she chirped. Arthur covered her neck with doubtful kisses, afraid to make a wrong move. He then remembered:

(Like in the couch).

He stopped his course to descend to her chest. Harleen paid extreme attention to his reactions, which drifted from amazement to utter joy.

The man stood quietly, admiring the messy mane at her sides. A pink, bluish disaster covering her chest. The dark sense of dominance proper of a man who finally felt control over his life acquired a lighter shade as he distanced himself from her just enough to appreciate her astonishing beauty. Carefully, he slid a hand to dedicate his attention to the blue strands of hair, curling it around his finger, as he fantasized about for so long.

Harleen did not interrupt at all. This eccentric – but precious - way of communication was also new for her. What started as a simple invitation for a sexual encounter was progressively turning into a passionate discovery about each other. She knew Arthur wasn’t the most experienced man when it came to sex… but his enthusiasm was in no way to be questioned. Actions spoke louder than words.

The pink strands of hair winded around his fingers, uncoiling as his digits made it aside to have a good vision of her uncovered breasts. So focused he was that he did not come to realize Harleen moved her arms to allow him a better access. She looked at those arms. God, those arms. Veiny, hairy, bony. Inhabited by little spots near the elbow. It drew a sharp contrast with the softness of her skin. Soon, she would pay attention to them.

His facial expressions were a wonderful mixture of arousing disbelief and sincere admiration. Arthur seemed to be thoughtful for a few seconds on what he was going to do but he dared to slide his fingers over her collarbone, not leaving any inch of skin untouched. Then, he lowered to the sternum, circling it carefully to direct his ravenous digits to her left breast, studying the orbed part cautiously, examining its shape. The dedicated, paused fondling of it elicited a soft moan from her.

An evil, perverse grimace delineated his lips. Ah, that beautiful, sensual sound resounding again. How could he resist it?

It was with a predatory inflame that Arthur threw himself to pamper the zone with his mouth. The sudden outburst made Harleen grunt for air, grabbing the bedsheets, a violent spasm shaking her legs, making her toes curl. The voracious appetite he devoured the breast was combined with such despair that seemed the act was far from satisfying. Despite she was aware of Arthur's consistent (and certainly disturbing) fixation with female chests, she preferred to stay quiet about it and enjoy the use he gave to such compulsion. He did not restrict it to a simple suckling, as Harleen saw how he nuzzled his face against it to then cover the damp, shiny skin with kisses, sending shivers down her spine.

“Oh, Mr. Fleck… You do know how to put your mouth in use, do you?”, she felt high. As if she had taken a drug.

The flattering words enlivened him to concede the other breast the same treatment and Harleen couldn't stop flailing, now completely taken by the action. The unoccupied hand fondled her belly to pass over the hip to end in her thigh. When his mouth detached from the hardened nipple, he licked all the way up her chest and neck, savouring the salty taste of her sweat, causing Harleen to ragingly rear up. Arthur ascended to face her once more just for her to grasp the strongly angular wrist once his arms found themselves near her waist. He frowned, confused. But his apparent disapproving look contorted to a one of complete flabbergast when Harleen opened her mouth so her tongue would coax his index and middle fingers, oiling them to steer the hand towards her searing feminity. His eyes widened, like a small kid watching in awe a mischievous deed. The absolute lewd look in her eyes erased any logic sense on him, if there was any in first place.

“Sure you want to warm up things first before diving in, do you mr. Fleck?” she spread her legs and Arthur lowered his head, dealing with the joy that overflowed his being.

“Yeah”, his murmur was impatient and euphoric, “I can’t wait to…” he couldn’t say it.

“Come on. Don’t be shy” she chuckled, frisky, “say it”.

“I just can’t wait to do it inside you”. She gladly approved as their hands went on tune on her intimacy. Arthur was startled, “but I don’t… I have never done this to a woman”.

Harleen nodded eagerly.

“Then allow me to show you how”, a toothy, naughty grin was all he got as a reply. He ended up emulating her. The grin was substituted to a temptative whisper:

"There... There". The first touches to become familiar and then to please them. This new action left Arthur completely speechless. A mess of joined hands constantly massaged the silky, wet little space of hers. It didn't had an effect on Harleen only, making the rigid consistency return.

He smirked, evilly, as they took their time. Despite his restiveness, he knew patience would pay off. The caress went over the slick folds which soon would welcome him, kneading it constantly. His slender fingers then began to approach by own initiative, applying what he just had learned. Seconds later, with the same patience, Harleen made him stop precisely at the weakest point of a woman. He sensed a humid nub. As their hands began rubbing it, Arthur noticed it made her body jounce, a chain of gratifying sounds fleeing her throat. He was not able to stop staring at the body part receiving the sweet and lecherous attention, putting more effort into it. Gradually her hand got away to let him take the iniciative now, encircling it.

The uncontrollable tremble that shook her legs made her close her eyes. Arthur stood there, his hand still stimulating her sex as intensely as posible, spellbound, captivated by her reactions. He leaned a bit when her breaths stirred her chest for more air. The blonde panted, trying to look for something to cling to as she was coming to her peak.

“Arthur… I can't—I can’t endure it anym—“ The phrase marked the last thing she could control before the fulminant end. Mellifluous moans came from her mouth, praising him, calling his name repeatedly. He was certainly bewitched at the image. So lost in the ecstasy that only the amatory practice could bring her, Harleen missed the fact Arthur did not blink in any moment, recording obsessively every move.

“Now that’s what I’m fucking talking about” his chuckle causing her insides quiver. He loved how her muscles twitched on his hand, priding himself on the magnificent reaction he had caused on her.

Arthur patiently awaited for her to regain her breath before the best part would take place. He placed his hands at her sides to remain firm, his muscles tense and strong as a rock, marking the defined biceps Harleen loved so much. She opened her eyes just in the right moment when the hungry loner expected to end the hunger that harmed their souls so much.

Harleen caressed his cheeks with the backs of her hands. Arthur leaned so their foreheads would touch. It was a torture for him as well. He placed a hand on her hip, sliding it down to the inner thigh, aligning his stiffened arousal in her entrance, brushing the sensitive nub with his tip. The tease took her breath away, making her spine twist.

"Oh, God… please… please…", her vision blurred, her senses numb.

"I know"

"Please!" She begged, "I need you inside of me, please". The hopelessness in her voice did not manage to act immediately but it certainly had a great impact on him. The fear of not being capable of carrying the dominance now sparked a furious, impetuous need to silence the voices that insisted he wasn’t man enough to please a woman.

Through a furious, vehement move, Arthur finally made his way inside her, a sharp hiss and a vivid expression of sexual bliss seizing his facial features. He abruptly shut his eyes at the tight inner grip, lips slightly parted, hearing Harleen let out a long, languishing moan. She arched her back, squirming beneath him. Arthur smiled, extremely pleased at the erotic reaction while still trying to find a more comfortable angle to keep doing his part. He wanted more, however, and he was gonna manifest it by holding her chin in his thumb and index finger. Harleen opened her eyes while Arthur awaited her reaction as she received him fully. Taking a deep breath, he managed to open his eyes to cherish the fantastic view of her trying to handle his hard length making a place inside the best way she could. She held his head, carefully tugging his curls.

Invader and invaded stared at each other.

"Take your time... We're not in a rush". The calm words soothed the anxiety prior to sex but the pleasure the act had to offer them rushed him to resume their act: Arthur deepened the insertion into her hot, velvety intimacy. Harleen gasped while becoming used to his presence inside of her, taking utter delight in the raw feeling of her warm walls adjusting to the intrusion, sensing every nerve shuddering and throbbing around him. Her mouth was open, yet no words were articulated. Maybe because they weren’t necessary.

As for the loner, his vocal expressions of pleasure went from a heavy gasp, then to a loud groan to a thunderous moan.

"Fuck---!" Arthur cried out, while struggling to form a coherent word but he was way too aroused to dedicate energy to other action, except for moaning against each other's mouth, never breaking eye contact.

The first few seconds following their fleshes fully merging into one, Arthur experimented with paused and insecure moves, afraid to hurt her if he ever accelerated the pace but also afraid to ridicule himself if he’d last less than one minute. His slow thrusts allowed a better way to cope with the overwhelming, tight heat that kept their privacies tied together. He caught an steady rhythm that finally eased down. Sliding in and out, down and forward. Just two individuals who tried to bond despite their differences.

“Y—You”, Harleen suddenly pronounced herself. Arthur huffed for air as he paid attention, “you feel… you feel so good inside me”.

“I can--, I can tell”, he could hardly articulate.

Pressing his body against hers, Harleen whispered:

“We really lost a lot of time, did we?”

She let her hands, avidly and blindly, over his chest and collarbone as his hips, by mere sexual instinct, insisted on a faster, harder pace. To increase his confidence and to let him know she enjoyed it, her legs pressed his hips. For a moment, Arthur stopped, taking the opportunity to regain all the air in heavy pants. Harleen held his face, making aside the curly, sweaty locks that formed over his face. His aroused but exhausted expression was a delight to see.

“I swear to God—“ his ragged breath made his voice sound raspy, “if you keep doing that—“ another difficult exhaling move, “I won’t last too long”.

“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to”.

"I'm not upset" his shortened breath intake aroused her just as much his insertion did.

The rain intensified. Drops clashed against the window. It proved to be a pleasant background sound as the two lovers expressed their feelings through their bodies. Arthur certainly had the time of his entire fucking life engulfing himself in her over and over and over again. The rhythm worked perfectly slow for the two of them as they slid together, in perfect harmony, over the bed. The pace that carried them away from sanity was combined with passionate, wet kisses, sometimes tugging on his bottom lip and tangling her tongue in his mouth, kissing him behind the earlobe, whispering sensual words.

Arthur had the perfect gift to reaffirm his existence and Harleen’s whispery voice calling his name just ended up pushing him deeper and deeper. Where did he suddenly become so strong to hold on for so long? He’d never know.

Between moans and kisses, Harleen returned the passionate gestures with a strong, bloody scratch in his ribs. Arthur broke the kiss with a loud, pleased groan, responding to the scratch with a harsh thrust. Harleen screamed beneath him. Arthur, lightheaded by the sexually charged response, just stood still, trying to not give in to the already close peak of the act.

Harleen was ready to make clear how much the sudden irruption had upset her when she heard an unintelligible mumble.

"Uhh. What?" Harleen could hardly heard his petition.

"Do that again", he whispered. The frown on her eyebrows revealed how much puzzled she was.

"Do wha--?”

The harsh thrust took her by surprise, as expressed by the intoxicating sound that made Arthur so infatuated. As he delighted in the joy of obtaining exactly what he wanted, Harleen heard a a sweet, malevolent whisper:

"That’s better...". It ghosted his lips, more to himself. He supported entirely on his arms, to keep on the rough onslaught. Those screams were music to his ears and he had plenty of reasons on why he deserved to hear more of them when he believed she had something else to say.

The blonde mouthed. And Arthur read her lips.

(Harder)

Harleen placed her hands at the sides of her head, abandoning herself to Arthur‘s mercy. She wanted it? She would get it. Another plea gone with the air, an arm on the matress reinforcing the pace to make it rougher and rougher. She felt she was unable to speak his name anymore, not knowing what aroused her the most: if having him inside her or hearing his assiduous effort to breathe through the final and most exciting part of their act.

Exhaling aggressively, Arthur hung on to the mattress to harden the already brutal slamming that had reduced Harleen to an incoherent mess. His jaw dropped as the pleasure was becoming unbearable, growling as he leaned his head to keep closer to her. His arm was a key to maintain the disastrous rhythm as unrestrained but steady, grasping the wood which mattress was made of. The limb showed hard lines, ligaments standing out of the skin.

She legitimately thought, in a short moment of lucidity, that his arm would end up breaking it down. Neither of them heard a furious knocking on the wall, asking them to quiet down their sounds. Even if they did, they wouldn't care. Harleen sensed he'd love the idea of the whole building hearing their scandal.

When the excessive sensitivity down there traced a faint line between pain and pleasure, her moans echoed louder and louder, pushing Arthur to his limit.

“Look at me”

It was hard to keep eyes open at this point. Harleen did her best but Arthur mistook it as another little game of hers.

“Look at me”, he hissed.

She inhaled deeply, turning her head towards him.

“Look at me!” he yelled, desperate.

She quickly did as he demanded.

“Look at me when it happens”, he was not angry, despite the fierce, crazed stare suggested otherwise.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck” he hissed under his breath, trying to keep up with the rampant search for release despite how much exhausting it proved to him. He wasn’t willing to be defeated: his hands fell to her sides to pound faster and more erratically, almost tearing the bedsheets. Harleen was unable to speak now, restricting to whimpers that granted him an inconmensurable feeling of power.

Then it happened. It caught him sooner than he initially had intended, but that didn't make it any less delightful. The blonde screamed his name at the top of her lungs as the spectacular orgasm hit her.

That was too much for him to bear.

One more enthusiastic, desperate thrust and it was over. Harleen had no control over her reaction, imprisoning him completely with her legs and arms crossed over his body. A hot attempt to retain her lover, clenching as hard as she could possibly do. They shared a fleeting gaze as he spilled himself in a wave of nervous, uncontrollable convulsions that spurred his nerves. She would never forget the expression that moulded by the moment: his face was an authentic, vivid expression of ecstasy. His eyes closed, catching air, sweating profusely, rebellious locks falling down. The desperation in his voice diminished to a pleasured groan to a exhausted, but satisfied series of sighs. He finally collapsed on top of her, hiding their faces in each other's neck.

“Easy…” she muttered while Arthur bathed in his newfound masculinity. She knew the magnitude of his enrapture when he displayed no reaction at all when she caressed his hair.

Arthur was enjoying his blissful release inside her, memorising every little sensation. The soft sighs escaping his mouth made her believe he had finally lost the little touch he had left with reality.

He still wanted more, though. Arthur refused to break the physical bond, not getting over the warmth narrowing around him, looking for more thrills, seed still dripping.

“You’re hard to quit” Arthur hissed, breathless.

“I'm not asking you to ”, and both laughed.

Harleen untangled a few curls, enjoying how they recoiled to their original form, emptiness replacing the fullness of his presence once he was gone. Laying on their sides to face each other, now under the blankets. The water falling in the sky helped them to concile slumber.

"I'll be hardly out of you after this, Harleen" was the last thing she heard before lights were off.

________________________________________

It was cold. It was wednesday and the train was full. Arthur had gone early to his weekly therapy with the social worker. Once he reached the building, waiting in the hallway. He smoked a cigarette, journal on the inner part of his hoodie, a confident smirk lining his lips.

The grimace did not change at all when he got into the office, greeting her and taking a seat. It started with the usual 'how's your job?', 'are you having negative thoughts?'. Arthur replied more confidently, without avoiding eye contact as he always did. The worker noted immediately a dark, evil glint in his eyes. He couldn't stop smiling just as he couldn't see how much his new attitude unsettled her. She decided to ask for his journal, asking if there was something wrong or different. Arthur just took another long drag of his cigarette, smiling to himself.

Once the copybook was handed to her, the worker noticed a brief, new sentence along a photograph of a beautiful young woman whose platinum hair showed different colours from the half down. She was dressed in a short red dress and smiled.

She read outloud the phrase written in red. Arthur had to suppress a cackle to not get too much attention from her. He deducted by her expression she did not understand it but he did not expect her to.

“I’m prod of mysel”.

122 notes · View notes

lifeinahole27 · 4 years

Text

CS ff: “Walking the Tightrope” (Chapter 2/10) (au)

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

Rating: E (much later in the story)

Content Warnings: Maybe some language in this chapter but nothing more.

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

A/N: I have crawled out of my deathbed long enough to post this. Thank you to everyone who has read so far, and I hope your enjoyment continues with this next installment! xo

Chapter 1 |

Find it on Ao3 & FFN!

-x-

Chapter 2: Meet Me in the Morning

October 5: Saturday

Emma Swan doesn’t care about routines. She does most things at the same time each day, but that’s only because she wakes up, takes a shower, gets ready, and goes to work at the same time. Every day.

On the weekends, she’s a mess. She’s not entirely ashamed to admit there are some weekends she doesn’t even bother showering. She’s a single woman living alone so she’s the only one who has to deal with it.

It was by chance that, a little more than a month ago, she decided to walk to work early and saw Killian Jones for the first time. She’s been walking the same route for so long but she had never seen him before, more than likely because he seems to like to get to work early and she prefers to run in at the last second before she’d be considered late.

That first time was a fluke – she told David she would come in a little early to help haul records out of storage and there was this newcomer standing at the corner she crosses in order to get to Main Street. Storybrooke doesn’t get a lot of tourists, and of course she’d heard rumors that there was someone new, but to see him in person was a jolt of excitement.

He was reading something on his phone and looked like he was going to walk straight into the street. She had hustled to get to the corner sooner to stop him in case a car was coming (unlikely with how early it was and in this town) but he stopped, as if his shoes had suddenly stuck him to the spot. Without looking, he pushed the button for the crosswalk and kept on reading. Emma realized that this was something he had ingrained into him so deeply that he even knew where to stop because of muscle memory. Pretty impressive for a guy who’d only lived here a handful of weeks.

Despite being unconsciously aware of his surroundings, he didn’t seem to even notice her following him at a distance, so she lurked in her own way until she got to Granny’s, watching with interest as he took the left at the post office and went on his way.

Curious to see if he would repeat this chain of events, Emma showed up early again the next day just in time to see him walking up, but it was all wrong. He wasn’t reading, so he wasn’t lost in whatever was on his phone, and instead of just blindly stopping and pushing the button, his eyes met hers and he stumbled just the tiniest bit during the approach.

Suddenly, Emma kind of liked the idea of showing up every day around the same time to see if any of the above happened again – would be he lost in technology or would his steps falter again?

And both events did happen, but every time he’d get close to the corner, he’d look up and around, oftentimes catching the moment she was just approaching the crosswalk. Six weeks straight, every Monday through Friday, they walk together.

But last Monday he didn’t show up. She waited a couple minutes, but he still didn’t show. So she did what any sane person would do and went about her business. On a whim, she got two coffees at Granny’s and proceeded to stand outside for an extra ten minutes, not even sure he would pass by. Maybe he didn’t have to go to work. Maybe while she was getting the coffee, he went speeding past. Maybe he was dead in a ditch somewhere. She didn’t even know him but she was tempted to set out a search party for the man who always walks to work looking like a GQ model.

With that in mind, she’d started texting David asking how out of line it would be to create a missing persons report for someone who was, by her calculations, twenty minutes late.

“Who do you think is missing?” he’d texted back, clearly humoring her.

But that brought up a whole new set of problems because sure, she knew his name. How could she explain to David that she wanted to check up on someone she’d never even had a conversation with? And how could she do it without making David incredibly suspicious of Killian Jones?

When she looked up, Killian was there, looking just as shocked to see her as she was to see him. She had a moment of mild panic, locking and shoving her phone in her pocket without responding to her brother. She grabbed the coffees and started to just leave, but she noticed he didn’t have his to-go mug in hand and remembered why she ordered two on impulse.

So she officially met Killian that day, embarrassingly asking for his name even though she already knew it, and their daily interactions subtly changed again. She ponders this over a late breakfast the day after their bar run-in, marveling at the fact that she didn’t drink that much, that she’s not nursing a hangover with greasy food and a whole pot of coffee. Instead, she settles on the couch with a bowl of Fruity Pebbles and stares at the TV screen as she tries to decide which Netflix show to go for first.

Halfway through the first show, though, her thoughts keep drifting to the way Killian’s lips felt on the back of her hand. It’s occurred to her that she’s in trouble because he’s already gotten closer than she’s let most men in the last few years. She all but swore off relationships after the last one, but there’s something magnetic about Killian that keeps drawing her back. There’s a kinship, maybe. She sees it in his eyes some mornings - just a flash of something she can’t quite name but that lives inside her as well.

Knowing this is where dangerous thoughts lead, she finishes her cereal and eyes the visible messes in her apartment. Maybe some cleaning will help wipe the thoughts of getting those lips on hers from her brain. She starts with the overflowing sink.

By the end of the weekend, her apartment is spotless but her mind is more restless than it’s been in ages.

It doesn’t help that David calls her Sunday evening, making sure to emphasize that Killian seems like a nice guy. She’s just gathering the last of her laundry to tackle while dinner is still in the oven, so she hauls the hamper down to the basement of her building while David pries into her personal life.

“Yeah, he does,” Emma replies nonchalantly. “Do you want me to bring breakfast to the station tomorrow?” If she tries to change the subject, no one can really blame her for it.

“No need. It’s muffin Monday. But back to the guy that suddenly showed up after you were just texting me about putting out a missing person report on someone?”

“Geez, David. Way to be subtle,” she huffs as she finishes stuffing the clothes in the washer, starting the cycle before walking back to her apartment and pacing a circuit as the conversation continues. “So, was it Killian? How long have you been seeing him?”

“I’m not seeing him,” she defends, even though David’s tone is less stern and more overly-cautious-about-who-dates-his-sister. “We just sort of walk together for a bit in the mornings. I got worried when he showed up late one day. The guy is like an advertisement for punctuality.”

David hums a response, not sounding convinced. “And spending time alone with him last night? How does that figure into all this?”

With an exasperated sigh, Emma stops walking around her living room and drops onto the edge of the couch. “It just means that I have a new friend or something. That’s all. Nothing more than that.”

“Uh huh. So make sure the Save-the-Dates have ‘David was right’ written somewhere on them, okay?”

“Oh, would you look at the time? Dinner’s burning. Gotta go!”

This is one of those moments she sincerely misses phones with cords because it’s not nearly as satisfying to click the lock button to end the call and toss her phone on the coffee table as it would’ve been to slam down the receiver. She leaves it there for the rest of the night until it’s time to plug it in before bed, letting it represent all the truths she isn’t ready to face yet.

Killian is just on his way to becoming one of her friends. There’s nothing wrong with that. Nothing more than that, either.

-x- October 7: Monday

On Monday, Emma follows her own version of her morning routine and gets to the corner just as Killian is pushing the button for the crosswalk. She’s exhausted from a night of intermittent sleep, but can’t resist returning the gesture when Killian smiles and waves when he sees her.

“Good morning, Swan,” he greets, his cheery demeanor trying its best to rub off on her but failing miserably.

“It’s certainly morning,” Emma grumbles, wanting to reach out and grab the stainless steel mug from his hand and chug until she can function again.

“Well, that’s certainly a Monday mood if I’ve ever heard one. Not enough sleep last night?”

She shakes her head instead of responding, not really sure how to explain that he’s the reason without it sounding like either flattery or an insult. Truly, it was her own internal fuck-ups that kept her awake, and the fear that Killian Jones might be someone she wants to think about more often. This all floats through her brain on a lazy river of thought, and meanwhile, the light changes and Killian ushers her across the street and maneuvers her up the path to Granny’s before she can even register that she’s moved at all.

But instead of that being the end of their daily interactions, Killian is still walking beside her, opening the door for her when they walk up the few steps to the entrance, and somehow herding her without touching her all the way to the proprietress.

“Granny, I do believe our good deputy here is suffering from severe sleep deprivation. Might you have something strong enough to knock out her Monday?”

“You’re consorting with this one, now?” Granny asks her, confusion popping up one gray eyebrow above her spectacles.

“I wouldn’t say consorting, as such, but we’ve become acquainted,” Killian says when she still can’t seem to find her words.

“Americano,” Emma finally spits out. “Make that a double.” Her brain is trying so hard to catch up to everything but somehow hearing Killian describe them as not-quite-consorting is the comforting wake-up she needed.

“There she is!” Killian’s exuberant tone jolts her a little bit, but she snorts a little and shakes her head.

“I’m good now, Jones. Thanks.”

“No worries, love. Happy to help.”

She remembers hearing the endearment the first time, that split-second instinct she had to correct him and tell him she was nothing to him at all, before she realized she’s been called the same by Robin and Will on more occasions than she can count.

Killian waits with her until the coffee is in her hands and walks the short length down to where they have to split in opposite directions to go to their places of employment. Emma tries not to linger once they get to that point, not wanting to hold him up from getting to work on time.

“Until tomorrow, then?” he asks, a gentle hint to the words. There’s something in his expression that speaks volumes more than his voice does, though.

“Until tomorrow, Jones.” She gives him a sly smile when she does it, lifting her coffee in thanks like he did the morning they officially met.

At lunch time, she’s feeling a little more like herself thanks to the coffee, but her energy is flagging and she realizes she never even ate breakfast, either. Just a granola bar she had in her desk from who knows when.

“I’m gonna walk down to Granny’s and get some lunch. What do you want?”

“Usual burger and fries?” David sounds as drained as she feels thanks to the stacks of files he’s been working on all morning, so she makes up her own mind to bring back more coffee to save them both from the ancient pot they still keep in the corner for some reason.

There’s something a lot more enticing than caffeine waiting in the diner, however, since she spots Killian in one of the booths almost as soon as she enters. He’s elbow deep in a stack of pages, oblivious to the world around him as it all bustles along. Instead, she has a suspicion that whatever he’s reading is where he lives now.

She wars with herself over whether or not to disturb him when he looks so engrossed, but it also looks like he hasn’t stopped in a while if his half-eaten lunch is anything to go by. With a quick stop by the counter, Emma places her to-go order and asks for a refill on Killian’s drink.

There’s a knowing arch to Granny’s eyebrow as she hands over the coffee and Emma pretends not to notice it, instead telling the older woman to let her know when her order is all ready.

“Careful, Jones. You look like you’re about to blow a fuse,” Emma says as she reaches the table, leaning casually against the other side of the booth after setting his drink in the last clean space. Even with the blatant approach, Emma can still tell she’s surprised him by the way he jumps a little in his seat. It takes a moment for him to speak, his eyes never leaving the page.

“I have to concentrate a little harder when there are beautiful women standing beside my temporary work space,” comes his response as he marks his spot on the page he’s working through. It’s then that he looks up at her, his eyes shining with humor but also the truth of his words. She knows it; she has a thing about people and lies. So of course she blushes, averting her eyes to scan around his mess of a table.

“I figured you were more of a neat, orderly pile kind of person,” she says with a gesture to the table. “I mean, you just seem the type.”

If he notices her weird tone of embarrassment, he ignores it. “You’re not wrong. I’ve just been so lost in the stories here that I’ve let the chaos take over a little bit. Thankfully, everything is numbered, or else I’d be in trouble.” “Why read here? Don’t you have an office with that fancy publishing company?”

“I do. It’s a very small, very modest office that I probably sit in more often than my home. But it also has other people who don’t like to respect my closed door in the afternoons. Namely, of course, Will Scarlet.”

She chuckles at that, not entirely surprised that he would choose to escape instead of trying to deal with Will. “Of course he wouldn’t.”

“And you? What brings you in? You look far more alert than you did this morning, by the way.”

“Thanks, I think? I’m here for lunch and coffee. We’re just getting started trying to get the old reports all transfered to our digital format. I love him, but David primarily uses the single fingers typing method that’s popular with dads and I couldn’t stand the sound of it anymore.”

“Emma!” They both jolt at the calling of her name, looking over to see Granny holding the bag with her order inside.

“Speaking of which, sounds like I’m up. I guess I should leave you to it, then. Wouldn’t want to add to your distractions list.”

“For the record, Swan, you’re always welcome to interrupt my work without ending up on my naughty list.” There’s just something about the way he says the line that Emma thinks is 99.9% totally innocent, but the very use of the word “naughty” has her 100% sure he could take it in a very dirty direction if given the chance. The most shocking part is that she kinda wants to walk right into it. “And thanks for the refresher on the coffee.”

“Don’t fry your brain,” she comments before pushing away from the booth and collecting her lunch. With reluctance, she walks out the door instead of going back to the damn booth and taking up more of his time.

-x- October 11: Friday & October 18: Friday

The rest of the work week passes quickly, with greetings to Killian in the mornings, steady work in the afternoons, and dinner spent alone in the evenings. With each new day, her conversations with Killian got a little longer, more drawn-out, and she was finding out so much more about him.

By that Friday, they’ve talked about work, and bickered about the best toppings to go on waffles, what their sweet tooth go-to is. And then, again, their habits change a little bit more.

“Are you going out tonight?” she asks, not even sure what prompted her to say anything. She wasn’t initially planning on heading to the bar after her shift, but their morning topic of pet ownership is apparently enough that it makes her want to talk to him more.

“Maybe,” he tells her. He means “yes” if his expression is anything to go on.

“Maybe isn’t yes, Jones.”

“It’s not a no, either,” he tells her, reaching up to push her hair off her shoulder with his hook. With that same smug expression on his face, he waves goodbye and leaves her outside Granny’s to get her coffee. One of these days she’s just going to steal his as retribution for saying that Pop-Tarts are not a suitable breakfast.

He does make an appearance that night, sitting between herself and Snow after he wanders in with Will. She can already tell that he’s worming his way into Snow’s heart, and while that will ultimately make her life more complicated when the other woman starts pressuring her to date him, at least she’ll have her sister’s approval.

He doesn’t stay long, claiming at one point that he could very well fall asleep on his walk back home. Emma is this tempted to ask if he wants her to walk with him, but he bumps her shoulder companionably and says he’ll see her on Monday before he rises from the table and walks to the bar to pay his tab.

She keeps her eyes peeled on her own walk home to make sure he isn’t asleep somewhere along the route, just to be safe, and that’s damning enough on its own to indicate how she feels about him.

The next Friday, she’s lost in thought picking up dinner from Granny’s when the voice of Will Scarlet intrudes her personal space.

“Get your boyfriend to go out with us tonight. He’s refusing to leave his office,” he says bluntly, sliding up next to Emma at the counter. She’s thrown for a second by the word ‘boyfriend’ and stares at him for a moment before she realizes Will’s talking about Killian.

“Killian’s not my boyfriend,” she says, trying not to sound too bristly.

“Well, not with that bloody attitude he’s not,” Will says, grin still in place.

“Go away.”

“I will as soon as I’ve got food for that prickly bastard I work with.”

“Why’s he prickly?”

“He’s been locked away in that bloody office all week. Never left the room except for toilet breaks today. Propped a chair in front of the door so I couldn’t get in to try to make him break for lunch.”

“Doesn’t his door have a lock?”

“Do you really think a locked door can keep me out?”

It’s none of her business, not really, but she’s still a little concerned about that much work.

“C’mon, Lady Sheriff. I figure if anyone is going to get him to cut back a little bit and take a night to recharge, it’ll be the woman he fancies.”

There are so many things for her to unpack in that sentence.

“I’m the deputy,” she corrects almost absently because the rest of her brain and a thumping portion of her heart are still stuck on the idea that Killian fancies her - the very British way for Will to say that he like likes her. Has he said that out loud to Will? Does he talk about her?

“I don’t have his number or anything. It’s not like I can just text him and tell him what to do.”

“Okay then, you can take him the dinner I was planning on dropping off and use your womanly charms to get him away from that bloody computer screen for a night.”

Emma snorts at the idea of trying to use any kind of womanly charms, since she hasn’t used those since she was helping chase bail skips back in her early twenties. She doesn’t think Will has the same ideas as she does when she hears those words, and thank goodness for that.

In the end, when the food is ready to go, Emma takes the bag from Will. “Fine. But only because he’s probably so sick of your face that he’d just as soon starve than open that door for you again.”

Will is clearly torn between celebrating that his plan has worked and being an ass about her reasoning, but Belle walks in and diverts his attention, so Emma starts edging towards the door with the two bags of food in hand.

“You know where the building is, yeah?”

“I do.”

“Turn to the left past reception and it’s down the second hall to the right.”

It’s almost pointless that Will gave her the directions, since there’s only one office in the whole building that seems to be lit up. The rest of the place is deserted, but his door is propped open and she’s about to knock, but takes a moment instead to appreciate how intense Killian looks while he’s working.

He’s chewing on his lip, eyes scanning his computer screen with fervor. He’s wearing glasses, which she’s never seen before, and even though she’s been standing here for at least thirty seconds, he still hasn’t seemed to notice she’s there with how deep he’s in the story. With a shifting of bags, she lightly knocks on the doorframe to catch his attention.

“If you’ve come to get me out of this office, you’ll have to try harder than by bringing me food.”

“Even if it’s really good food?” Emma asks. “I see you unblocked the door.”

Killian’s head snaps up so fast that she’s sure he’s given himself whiplash.

As such, his voice is breathless when he says her last name, as if she’s a mere mirage standing in his doorway and he is a man dying of thirst. With the expression on his face, she’s pretty sure that’s not far from the truth.

“You’re not Will.”

“And thank god for that,” Emma says, finally entering his office and presenting him with the bag of food marked with his name on it.

“Ah, but he sent you,” Killian retorts as he accepts the bag. He sees the second bag in Emma’s hand. “Do you have time? Would you like to eat, as well?”

She hesitates for a moment, thinking about how all she was going to do was drop off the food and go, maybe remind him to drink water or something, but he looks like he could use the company of someone other than the fictional characters in front of him. “Sure,” she finally says, moving the chair in front of his desk closer so she can place her own food on the surface.

As they each eat their dinners, Killian tells her more about the project he’s been assigned.

“It’s a relatively short book compared to the other projects I’ve worked on, but because of how much is riding on this one thing, I feel like I’m hyper-obsessing over every detail. I read the whole thing that day you saw me at the diner, and I’m still in the first chapter making edits and comments because I keep wondering if it’s the right call or not. I meet the author in a couple weeks and I want to have more than three pages marked up before that day.”

“You need to stop psyching yourself out so much,” Emma concludes as she pops another onion ring in her mouth. “And you definitely need to ease up on the time in the office. How long ago did everyone leave today?”

“Most cut out by three on Fridays.”

“So you’ve just been here for three hours working by yourself in a dark office building? With the front door unlocked?”

“It’s Storybrooke, love. Who’s going to even want to come here?”

“You have a point, I guess.” She wipes her hands with a napkin, shoving her trash back in the bag and crumpling it up. “But still, you should consider going out with everyone tonight. Or at least going home and drinking a lot of water and thinking about self-care.”

“Will you be included in this everyone?” He sounds a little quiet, a little unsure, a little nervous when he asks.

The woman he fancies, marches back through her head and Emma’s heart flutters a little. “Yeah,” she says, with no intentions of teasing him or leading him on. She gives a little shrug, smirking along with it. “Besides, it’s… also my birthday. Just so you know.”

“Today?” His full attention is on her, now, even forgetting about the fry that was halfway to his mouth.

“Tuesday, but since it’s a weekday, we’re celebrating tonight.” The wheels are turning behind those tired eyes and she knows she almost has him. “You can tell me about how you finished this chapter when you get to the bar tonight.”

“Maybe,” he says, but there are cracks in the facade he’s trying to hold onto.

“Maybe isn’t yes, Jones.” Last Friday comes back to mind, and she thinks this may just be the start of a routine or something now if he keeps this up.

“It’s not a no either, Swan,” he says with a smile that she’s beginning to recognize as the same she gets on her face when she thinks about him. She is so screwed.

“Yeah, I know,” she says, standing from her chair and flippantly tossing the trash from her dinner into the wastebasket by his desk. “See you later.” She winks when she says it, and his responding smile gives away that he’ll definitely be there.

-x- October 18: Friday

Fifteen minutes after Emma gets to the bar, she finally orders her drink. She knows Killian will show, but it’s a matter of how much longer. The drink has barely been in front of her for thirty seconds when she hears the door open and close again. She doesn’t even flinch when he appears by her elbow and orders his usual.

With a casual glance, she sees that he’s still in his suit and tie. He looks a little ruffled from the long day, but even at what she’s sure is a rough state, he still looks like she’d like to kiss him. That thought isn’t new, but the intensity of it is.

“What a surprise to see you, Jones.” She takes a sip of her drink before she looks at him again.

He’s shaking his head, looking like he’s trying not to smile but she gets to watch the grin fully bloom as he fails to keep a straight face. He glances around the empty tables where everyone usually congregates. “Where is everyone?”

“Well, I told Will that you wouldn’t go out unless we went to Aesop’s Tables. So I assume that’s where he is. And David and Snow had plans tonight.”

“Trying to get me alone, Swan?”

“I figured you could use a night to decompress without Will challenging you to a chugging contest.”

“You’re a savior, you know that?”

“I’ve been called that once or twice,” she admits, grabbing her drink and standing from the barstool. “Let’s go.”

“Go?”

“Yeah. Decompress. I have darts. You have a long week to put behind you. We both have good, strong drinks. Let’s go.”

He still looks baffled by the whole thing, and Emma’s not really sure why she’s so intent on trying to get him to loosen up, besides the fact that he’s one of the most put-together people she’s ever met and to see him a little disheveled is… kinda nice. She turns him and nudges him towards the other end of the bar where the dartboards are set up.

“Oh!” Killian stops in his tracks in front of her for a second and turns around. “What about your birthday?”

“What about it?”

“You said you were supposed to celebrate tonight.”

Emma fights with the smile forming on her lips. “Yeah, I did.”

“You didn’t have plans,” he says, the words tinted with a bit of confusion, but it’s definitely a statement.

“Nope,” she says, popping the last consonant. “C’mon. Tell me about your book thing.” She gets him moving again with a gentle jab to the middle of his chest.

And he does. As soon as they settle into a rhythm at the boards, Killian goes through the general premise of the twist on fairy tales. His arms are constantly moving as he talks, something that Emma finds fascinating. The impressive part is how he can do that and still throw without really concentrating. Sometimes, however, that doesn’t mean the throw is good.

“I haven’t played in a while,” he confesses after his first dart ends up on the floor and the second ends up embedded in the light cover above the board.

“Mmmhmm. Keep telling yourself that’s the reason,” Emma teases, collecting the darts and hitting three numbers she needs.

The game progresses with ease, however, and they keep up a steady conversation with the music buffering them from the other patrons and conversations. Round 1 ends up going to Emma.

“He still has one detail I wouldn’t have written if it were my book,” he tells her when they’re deep in round two.

“Oh?”

“There’s the ever-present failsafe: True Love’s Kiss.”

“And why wouldn’t you have written that into the stories?”

“Because if these are twisted tales, why should that be the save-all? Case in point, what if it were a curse instead of the fixer?”

“What do you mean?” She takes her throw, but it’s a bad shot. She’s officially more interested in what he’s saying so her game is going to shit.

“Bear with me a moment. In most stories, that kiss is the thing that fixes everything, breaks the curse, completes someone, etc. etc.”

She nods as she takes a sip of her drink which is slowly becoming more water than alcohol from the ice melting. It’s clear he’s on a roll, both in telling the story and with the darts. With the first throw, he hits the triple 20.

“So if I were to meet and kiss my true love, in Henry’s version, I would live happily ever after. But if I were the one twisting the fairy tales, my true love would turn into a hand. The thing that would literally complete me, so to speak.” The second dart hits the outer ring of single 19, leaving him with one more dart and only needing the double bullseye to win the game.

“Then I’d just be this poor, lonely bastard with a reminder of this great love I was owed and instead have a hand to carry around at all times.” The dart goes flying, sinking into the middle of the board with ease. He spins, his look of disbelief fighting with the full-blown smile taking over his face. All Emma can do is laugh.

“One hell of an ending, Jones,” she says, not sure if she’s talking about the game or the curse. “But for the record, I hope you don’t think that a missing limb makes you any less whole.”

He’s at the dartboard collecting the darts when she says it, and he leaves two of them on the board as he comes back to the table they’re set up at. She’s surprised the words even came out of her mouth, unsure of where the need to tell him that came from.

“I did once, after it first happened. I was young and suddenly down one hand, discharged from the Navy because of it, and had no direction.”

“How did you find your way again?”

It’s so close to home. She thinks about being 18 and alone in Tallahassee, trying to find any way she could to make money to get back to David and Storybrooke without breaking down and asking him for money.

“Mostly with the help of my brother, Liam. He kept me moving forward when I wanted to slide down the hill.”

“That’s one of the perks of having a brother,” Emma says, clearing her throat and taking a sip from her drink.

“It certainly is,” he replies. Sensing the shift in tone, Killian offers to refresh their drinks.

“Sure. But light on the vodka in this one.”

While he’s getting the drinks, she shakes off the memories. Maybe she should share with him that they have more in common than a route to work, but she also thinks that can be saved for another time. Because although they still haven’t exchanged numbers or full back-stories, she feels like this is all much bigger than a morning routine, now.

They throw for best out of five. In the end, Killian is the victor of their mini-tournament.

“Re-beginner’s luck,” Killian tells her as they settle their tabs and wish Jefferson a goodnight.

When they step outside, they start a slow, meandering walk back towards their homes. The October wind picks up, whipping her hair around her face and forcing her to zip her jacket up all the way. Without meaning to, Emma ends up huddled against Killian’s side, trying to escape the bitter wind. Somehow in the mix, she also ends up holding onto his arm, enjoying the way the fabric of his suit jacket feels beneath her fingertips. There’s a little smile on his face when she glances up at him, and when his eyes meet hers she can’t help but notice the way a quiet affection shines through.

They don’t talk much, mostly about the nothings that get lost in the mundane details of their day, like how she’ll start driving the Bug again soon when it gets colder. At this, Killian seems to deflate a little, and she realizes that it’ll bring an end to their walks down the street until the weather warms up again.

“But that’s not for another couple weeks,” she says, trying to make up for the fact that yeah, eventually she won’t be up for frigid commutes to the station in the snow. It’s not until she glances around that she realizes they’ve walked all the way back to her apartment complex. “Oh. This is me,” she says, pointing with her free hand up at the modest building. “I didn’t mean to make you walk this far out of your way.”

“I’m always happy to escort Storybrooke’s finest,” he mentions. “And thank you for getting me to relax tonight. I’d probably still be in that bloody office if it weren’t for you.”

“Or be three sheets to the wind thanks to Will.”

“Again, you’ve saved me in multiple ways today, Swan.”

“And yet, this was my birthday celebration and you got me no gift.”

With a glint in his eyes, Killian sways just the tiniest bit closer. “Only one gift I’ve got to offer,” he says, his index finger going from nervously rubbing a spot behind his ear to tapping his lips twice, the smile that overtakes those lips knowing and teasing and everything she’s wanted to kiss since he touched her hand that first time.

“Please,” Emma says, her voice dipping low. “You couldn’t handle it.” Even so, she’s moving closer without really meaning to, magnetically pulled towards his body in ways she can’t even explain.

“Perhaps you’re the one that couldn’t handle it,” he retorts, holding eye contact with her the whole time.

It’s a challenge. And she doesn’t like backing down from a challenge.

Her eyes shift between his for a second more, and then she’s hauling him towards her by the lapels on his suit jacket. Their mouths connect, both anticipating, both going for it like there’s a prize for who wrecks the other more. Back and forth they go with who leads and who takes, coming up for air twice in the process, until they’re both breathing heavily and she has to hold onto him to steady herself for an extra second.

“That was…” he mutters, his voice low.

They sway closer one more time and Emma’s pretty sure he’s going to kiss her again, but suddenly, the flight instinct takes over. She can’t like him. Can’t let him in. With barely a glance up, she decides to ruin the only good thing she’s had going for a while.

“A one time thing. Goodnight, Killian.” She says it with pain in her voice as she gently untangles herself from his embrace. It takes a lot of effort to command her own fingers to let go of his coat lapels and start walking away.

She doesn’t turn back, doesn’t want to see the look on his face that she knows is the same one on hers. Because they only walk together for part of their daily commutes. Nothing more. More is what leaves her in the middle of the night. More is what falls for her and dies in her arms. More is a lying, cheating asshole.

The door to the building closes firmly behind her, cutting off “more” before it even begins.

-x-

Chapter 3

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

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iamkatehardy · 6 years

Text

Out of Reach (James Delaney x Reader)

Hoping this time it works! I’m sorry for the mess, and I’m sorry I didn’t put the Keep Reading button, but I’m trying all the possibilities now!

Requested by : @outofbluecomesgreen The idea is hers, and absolutely amazing, so thank you babe ❤

A/N: This story will explore the development of the relationship of James and (Y/N). It starts in their early life, when everything seemed simple, before James sails to Africa.

The FF will be divided in 3 or 4 chapters, and each one of them will probably depict a different stage of their relationship. This one is about how they met. Hope you enjoy it, let me know what you think!

Warnings: Brandy is involved, just that 😁

Chapter 1

1802

London, a place where boundless wealth was the neighbor of the most hideous misery; where the luxury, wasting and extravagance of some coexisted with the famine, premature death, and vicious despair of others.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, you were born into a noble lineage, in the bosom of one of the richest and most influential families of the entire kingdom. Generally, someone from outside your reality would see you as lucky; another insufferable little lady that could have anything she wanted, and possessed all sorts of titles, including the most wanted bachelorette in town. Gentlemen from all over the Kingdom tried to ask your hand, but you always made their life a hell, in various ways.

You just couldn’t abide all the rules, etiquette and protocols of the court, and that often gave your parents a headache. If you weren’t a daddy’s girl, you would probably be disowned; but you and your father shared plenty of things, including an immeasurable passion for the sea. Something about the immense blue ocean fascinated you, thrilling you and soothing you at the same time.

Another French lesson, something you could never stand, awaited you; and when you saw your father getting ready to go out, you assumed it could be the perfect opportunity to skip the class. Having business with East India Company, he spent a considerable share of his days in the docks.

“Father?”

“Yes, my precious?” – He turned around to face you, while dressing his overcoat.

“I was wondering…” – You stepped closer, giving him a sweet look you inherited from your mother.

A little chuckle escaped his lips; he knew that look: you were about to ask him something and he wouldn’t be able to refuse.

“You know how much I hate Margaux and those classes…”

“Darling, your mother insisted…” - He put his hand on his forehead, sighing.

“I know, Da. But if you’d take me with you, she wouldn’t oppose to your will… Plus, I haven’t been in the docks in a while; I would love to go with you. Please?” – Both your voice and eyes were so pleading that for a while he forgot about the troublemaker within you.

“What did you ever ask me that I didn’t happily give you?” – He caressed your cheek. – “But get your coat, it’s cold out there!”

It was a chilly winter day. The wind was blowing from the water towards the land; as you took a deep breath in, a familiar scent filled your nose, calling memories of your childhood.

Sailors caused less problems if they were kept busy, so they were swamped in tasks in the ships, minding their own business, at least until they laid their eyes on you; your arrival caused a stir among them, turning heads.

James was one of the most troublesome sailors, meaning he was doomed to scrub the wooden decks, despite his expertise in other areas. The constant murmurs of his mates made him a little curious, so he got up with the excuse to get more holystone, and he finally caught a glimpse of you. You looked fierce and proud, but so damn beautiful he couldn’t stop looking at you, at least until the captain smacked his neck hard enough to bring him back to reality; the back of his neck stung, and he rubbed it to ease the pain. The captain’s yelling echoed in the whole dock, you couldn’t help but overhear it, and you turned to see what was going on. Being a troublemaker, you could relate to the situation, so it made you smile. After being lectured, he lifted his head again, and his eyes met yours; it was hard to meet his eyes for long though, they were like the ocean, so deep yet so tender, so full of life, so mesmerizing… Those were the eyes you’d never forget, the same eyes that would never forget you.

Your father was there for business, meaning he had little to no time to keep you company, and you got bored too easily to simply follow him and his friends while they discussed their affairs.

“Father? Do you think we could take a quick look at that ship?” - You walked by his side, clasping your hands behind your back.

“My love, I wish I had the time, but right now it’s impossible.”

“Then maybe someone could. “ – You stopped, pointing in the direction of the ship were James was, and giving your father a warm smile.

“I’ll arrange it for you. Just don’t get in trouble ok?”

“I won’t.” – You solemnly promised, although you knew that was a hard promise to keep.

You and your father approached the ship.

“Sailor?” – Your father called, and James turned around.

“Yes, Sir.” – James’s answer was dry; he knew that getting attention from people like you and your father often meant bad news for people like him.

“My daughter would like to have a look at the ship, could you please join her and show her around?”

“With all due respect, Sir, I don’t think this ship is the place for such an exquisite lady.”- He gave you a courtly nod, but his remark outraged you.

“I insist…” – You narrowed your eyes, and he couldn’t help but think you were a spoilt little lady used to get what she wanted at whatever cost.

“Listen, boy, this is my ship, meaning it’s her ship. So if she wants to take a look, she will be taking a look, and you’ll be escorting her. Are we clear?” – The finger of your father was mere inches away from James’s face, and you smirked, victorious.

“Yes, Sir.” – James nodded. – “Ma’am.” – He offered you his hand, to help you come on board.

“Thank you.” – You took his hand. It was rough and calloused, with a firm grip, unlike all the nobles you had met before, but t seemed to perfectly fit yours.

You father left, and you wandered around the deck, amazed with every little thing. James observed you attentively; you didn’t look so stuck-up after all. Your fingers traced every detail engraved in the shiny hardwood.

“That’s…”

“I know what that is, sailor…”- After interrupting him, you came a little closer. – “I’m familiar with ships.”

He clenched his fists and teeth, calling him a sailor made you look pretty stuck-up once again.

“Oh, come on, why do you look so angry? It was you who didn’t introduce yourself! I’m sticking with sailor, until Your Grace choses to unveil his identity to me.”

He resisted his urge to chuckle.

“James. James Delaney, ma’am”

“Delaney, huh? Sounds familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it… Anyway, James, I’m (Y/N), and it’s a pleasure to meet you.” – You extended your hand, and before he could bow to kiss it, you shook his hand firmly, surprising him.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, ma’am.” – His lips broke into coy smile

“No,no, no, please, let’s dispense with the formalities shall we, James? At least when my father is not around…He takes those things seriously, I don’t really care.” - You shrugged, and fluttered your long eyelashes.

Many hours have passed, but none of you noticed it until the Sun was about to set. You were both hesitant at first, but James made you feel weirdly comfortable; you both enjoyed each other’s company, and how the talk effortlessly flowed between you, almost as naturally as the silence between two strangers would. You had known each other such a short time, and yet, it felt like you knew each other forever. You found out you had more in common than any of you had foreseen, but there was a lot more to discover.

“You’re not so bad, after all…”

“Oh, no, I’m just as fucked up as they say! Well, I must go now, or my father will really impatient. He doesn’t quite endure delays. But I’m coming back. One day…” – You gave him another charming smile.

“I’ll be waiting.” – He kissed your hand. The golden sunlight seemed to enhance the way your eyes shone; they were sweet and captivating, making it really hard for James to say goodbye just yet.

And he did, every single day he wondered when would you be the next person to show up in the docks; he would follow your father with his watchful eyes, waiting for the day he’d bring you with him again. He secretly longed for one more talk with you, for your company.

Once your father grew suspicious of your interest in the docks, you were forbidden to accompany him there, or to go on your own. Restrictions never worked with you, imposing rules only made you want to break them, this one wouldn’t be exception.

When the night fell, after stealing your mother’s darkest cloak, and your father’s most expensive brandy, you sneaked out through the window and headed to the docks, knowing you’d probably find James, since he was supposed to be guarding a ship ,that was supposed to set sail in a few days. The night breeze was chilly, and you involuntarily shiver, maybe a nice swig of brandy would help; it smelled and tasted kind of fruity, making the experience less bad than you expected it to be. A few swigs and steps after, you finally reached your destination.

“James?” - You called, probably louder than you than you meant to.

He was tired, almost falling asleep, but he could swear he heard his name being called in the distance, so he immediately got alert. After pulling back his blanket, he swung his legs off the bed, and groggily rubbed his eyes.

The tipsy version of you thought it would be a good idea to keep calling.

“James Delaney! I summon you!” –Inspecting the ships, trying to remember in which he was staying, you whispered once again.

James came out of the compartment, wondering who could be calling him so late at night; he came across you, and it left him completely bewildered.

“There you are!” - You ran towards him, shaking the bottle in your hand.

“What are you doing here?!”

“I told you I’d come!” – Giving him the most fetching smile, you delivered him the bottle.

“Have you been drinking?” – He inspected the bottle and then you.

“Hmm hmm…” – Shaking your head in denial, you rolled your eyes.

“Of course not.” – He chuckled, after a low grunt; he perfectly knew you had. – “Does your father know you’re here, by any chance?”

“Why would he? He doesn’t own me, nobody does!” - You defiantly crossed your arms over your chest.

“I bet he thinks differently, and this visit will put me in a lot of trouble.” – Taking a deep breath, he slowly tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear, and you bit your lower lip.

“Don’t sweat it and spare me the speeches, I bet Delaney means trouble in some kind of dialect…” – Looking down, you kicked off your shoes.

“I wish I could tell you that you’re wrong, but you’re probably right…” – He opened the bottle and gulped down some brandy.

“Plus, it’s not usual for someone as insubordinate as yourself to fear any kid of trouble… But if you want me to go, I go!”

“No…” – He took another sip from the bottle, both brandy and your presence made him feel a lot warmer inside; something he hadn’t feel in a long time.

By the time he finished gulping the brandy, you had climbed on the edge of the ship, and tiptoed on the narrow bar; he almost spat his drink on the floor.

“(Y/N)?” – He called softly, to avoid startling you and causing you to fall overboard.

“Yes?” – You spun on your feet as swiftly as possible, turning to him.

“Can you come down here, please?” – He extended his hand to you, trying to convince you to come back to the deck.

“No, I can’t!.” – Giggling, you reached for the back of your head, and undid your hair. Shaking your head lightly, your hair fell over your shoulders, just before the wind blew through it, and made it cover your face. – “James…If I fall, will you pick me up?” – You opened your arms, closing your eyes and savoring the sensations, the freedom, with a smile on your face.

“No, the water is freezing; I wouldn’t pick the fucking King, if he fell!” – He laughed.

You opened your eyes just to glare at him, with indignation.

“Well, we shall see about that…” – You closed your eyes again and smirked, laying your head back.

He took another sip of brandy and silently approached, catching you off guard, picking you up and throwing you roughly over his shoulder, as he stepped away from the edge of ship.

“Are you out of your mind?!” – He sat down, leaning again the mast, getting his breath back. You tried to release his strong grip, but he wouldn’t let go. Managing to trap you, he made you sit between his legs, as he held you tight into his chest, so you wouldn’t get away and cause any more trouble. – “I would certainly pick you up, ma’am, but please don’t fucking jump. You crazy little thing!”

“I wasn’t going to jump!” – You laughed out loud. – “I’m not that crazy… Ok, maybe I am! But I was just curious about your reaction.” – You cheekily remarked, and stopped resisting his grip, leaning your head against his shoulder instead. Once again you stole the bottle from his hand.

“You’ve probably had enough brandy , miss…” –

“Oh, really, says who?” - You turned your head to face him.

His piercing gaze lifted from the bottle to your face, and the hair rose in the back of your neck. You wanted to believe it only happened because of the cold, but perhaps the real culprit was James’s warmth.

“Me…” – Whispering, he pinched your nose playfully, before stealing the bottle and gulping the remainder of the brandy on it.

“Hey!” – You slapped his leg, with a surprised look on your face, before bursting into laughter once again. “Since we’re on a ship… I love sailor songs… Do you know any?”

“No.” – His face was guilty, you knew he did, so you insisted.

Alcohol started working quickly once it entered your bodies, and in a matter of minutes the shyness and resistance were gone. James ended up singing a few sailor songs, and he even accepted your challenge to dance; he couldn’t dance like you did, he seemed to have two left feet and stomped on you every five seconds. For your own safety, you decided to simply link your arm on his, lifting your dress with the other hand, spinning around and singing, like you both thought drunken pirates would do. After some time, you both were so dizzy you fell to the floor, rolling on the deck and laughing.

You laid with your arms spread, getting your breath back; James was fun, he made you feel like you hadn’t in ages. Around him everything was carefree, adventurous and natural.

Being a troublemaker, James was very vigilant, even when he was drunk. Something got his attention, and he got up, looking around.

“Come back here…” – You giggled, opening your arms for him, making him sign to lay back in the neck and relax.

“Shhhhhh…”

“Don’t hush me!” – You sat down, giving him a threatening look

“Shhh!” – James saw a light in the distance, and he could hear voices of officers calling your name. – “Oh fuck, this is all I needed…” – He rubbed his forehead.

“What?” – You raised your voice.

“Shut up! Come! They already have more than enough reasons to expel me, if they find the daughter of the owner here, I won’t only be expelled, I’ll probably hang too.” – He extended your hand to you.

“We’ll hang together then!” – You shrugged, and James sighed in annoyance, grabbing your arm and getting you up.

“Put these on! Quickly, please.” - He grabbed your shoes on the other hand, handing them to you.

“I won’t, they are awfully uncomfortable, James.” – You tipsy tantrums were funny to James; he wished he could laugh, but not when you were about to get caught.

“Ok, fine…”- James took a deep breath and to clear any evidence of your presence on the ship he decided to throw the shoes, which probably costed more than his salary, overboard.

You looked at the shoes sinking, then at James’s face, and you couldn’t help it but laughing uncontrollably.

“Shhhhh!” – He made you sign to hush, but the more he hushed you, the more you wanted to laugh.

Your father was worried sick, and sent officers to search the whole town, including the docks. The officers approached, following the dim lights on every ship. James grabbed your hand and ran with you to his room, before they could get a glimpse of your both. You should be worried, but the adrenaline had the opposite effect in you, you felt more alive than ever and laughed happily.

“They’ll search here as well, they’ll search everywhere…”

“Never had hide and seek been so interesting…And your face, lovely!”

“Can you take this seriously for a second?!” – James whispered.

“Hmm hmmm…” – You shook your head, laughing. Your eyes barely open, from how tipsy you were, but it also showed how true your smile was. – “James, I’ve been in trouble for most of my life, but I swear, I haven’t had this much fun since I was twelve…” – You hug him tight, laughing against his chest.

He heard the steps of the officers in the deck, and his instinct was to hide with you under the bed. There was little room, so he laid on his cold floor and you laid over him.

“What are you doing?!” – You whispered.

James was sick of trying to hush you; you just wouldn’t comply, so he put his hand over your mouth gently. You tried to speak, but his moth stopped you, so you bit him lightly, making him take his hand back , and laughed.

“What’s so fucking amusing in getting us killed, huh (Y/N)?!” – He put his hand on your mouth again, but it wasn’t enough to muffle your laughs anymore. – “I’m probably going to regret this, but here goes nothing.”

He moved his hand to the back of your head instead, bringing you closer. As the officers stormed into the room, before you could say anything, or laughed, he firmly pulled your body against his, brushing his lips on yours. You tried to fight it as first, but you just closed your eyes and let yourself savor the moment. Lacing his fingers in your smooth hair, he lightly slid your tongue across your lower lip, causing you to gasp lowly; your lips parted and he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue inside your mouth. You teased him, nibbling his lip, and he sighed into your mouth; you both surrendered to the delicious feeling.

The officers searched everywhere, including the small wardrobe, but luckily for you, not under the bed; they soon left, ready to search in another ship. You and James broke the kiss, and you just looked into his eyes for some seconds.

“I’m sorry…You wouldn’t stop laughing, I…” – He whispered, but he was lying through his teeth, he wasn’t sorry at all. You put a finger over his lips, hushing him.

“James Delaney, you’re quite a character! You just can’t apologize when you should, but you apologize when you shouldn’t…” – You planted a lingering peck on his soft lips, before you both came out of your hideout.

#james delaney #james delaney x reader #james delaney x oc #james delaney x you #james delaney ship #james delaney tom hardy #tom hardy characters #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy fanfiction #james delaney fanfic #james delaney one shot #james delaney imagine #james delaney au

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lokisgame · 6 years

Text

Rainbow’s End

Yellow was not the name of the street, but it might as well be, the trees were turning yellow covering the pavement with a yellow carpet of leaves. The yellow sun crawled slowly over the city, framed between two rows of buildings, facing east up the street the view was absolutely stunning. It was almost 7am on a calm and quiet Saturday morning, an occasional car drove by, someone was taking his morning run, a young father was walking the dog on his way to buy fresh bagels for his beautiful wife. This was the kind of place you wanted to stick around, live a safe and happy life in a quiet part of town. On the first floor apartment of an unassuming brownstone townhouse, the door closed behind a tall, striking dark-haired woman. Her last nights’ suit jacket was as stylish as her heels were high and her makeup flawless. You wouldn’t tell by her expression or quiet, purposeful stride, that as the thick carpet swallowed the click of her heels, the walls swallowed her screams last night. She spent here more than one night each week, yet this wasn’t her home and neither did she kiss the man she left in the bedroom goodbye. Her day was already planned, and that’s what her thoughts focused on as she got into a cab.

The apartment wasn’t large, but it was comfortable enough for a man in his early thirties, living a quiet life. All he needed was a place to sleep and a place to write, and that’s basically what it was. A small bedroom taken up almost entirely by a bed and a pair of small nightstands, a living room with a well worn leather sofa, a desk and a fish tank, small kitchen and a bathroom. The rent was cheap and it was all he asked. The morning sun peeked inside and it’s golden touch gleamed on the black, lacquered surface of the typewriter, softened by a fine layer of dust on the keys and bars; then found the wine glasses on a small coffee table, lipstick stains on one of them, a crisp white shirt draped over the armrest of the couch, black suit pants on the floor, socks, boxers. Following that trail one didn’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to easily imagine the events of last night. Yet the September sun was kind, it’s touch soft, tender and warm on his bare back. Warm sheets and feather pillows surrounded him like a fort, guarding these short hours of sleep. This was his life as he knew it for years now, long nights, light sleep, his tall, slender body wedged inside the gap between the life of a night owl and a full-blown insomniac. These few predawn hours of peace were what kept him alive. Yet, sooner or later, even in a perfect word, a phone rang.

“Mulder,” he mumbled into the receiver, grimacing as the cold plastic touched his face. “Did I wake you? What are you doing in bed at this hour?” The deep tone carried a slight reprimand and Mulder made the effort to gather his thoughts. The man on the other end of the line didn’t care much about his smart mouth. Although he valued his freedom, the little structure and push towards discipline were the main two things the man brought into his life and ff Mulder would ever suffer anyone as his boss, it would be Walter Skinner, his editor, so the title was only half a joke. “Good morning, Sir.” “Get up and meet me in an hour at the diner down the street from your place, I’m meeting someone there in ten and I thought we could talk later, since I’m here anyway.” “With pleasure, not often the mountain comes to the prophet,” he chuckled rubbing some sleep out of his eyes. “Who said anything about pleasure, just get here, and don’t be late, I ain’t got all day to babysit your sorry ass, 9am sharp.” “Yes sir.” Mulder said with a little smile and the man hung up without a word of goodbye. Skinner was the only man who could speak to him like that because quite frankly it was the only way he knew how, due to his military training and three tours in ‘Nam. Honest and fair, not prone to sugarcoat his judgments, those were the traits he appreciated in a man who’s job was to make him work harder. It was his firm hand that made Mulder’s last three books into massive success, and his publishing houses’s efforts that allowed him to remain an anonymous citizen, living his simple life in the greater D.C. area. Rolling over onto his back, Mulder stretched his bones, Diana was gone as always, the mess was still there, as always, (“I’m not your housekeeper Mulder”), the sky outside his window had that particular shade of blue it only took on in autumn on a perfectly cloudless day, the clock said 7:30am. Pushing the pillow that smelled of her heavy perfume to the floor and pulling the sheets back up, he gave himself 20 more minutes in bed, to watch the yellowing leaves outside his window and think about nothing.

Walter Skinner, a balding man in his late 40’s, looked through the menu, sitting in a booth sipping black coffee and waiting for his niece to arrive. The diner looked like the old diners he remebered from the roadtrips he took around the country, tall vinyl barstools, vinyl booths, a young waitress taking orders and refilling coffee. This place still had the feel he liked, the kind of place you grew up with, where you ate ice cream when your dad sipped his coffee over a newspaper he bought at the kiosk outside, where you shared a first milkshake with a girl hoping she realized it’s a date not two friends hanging out, where you had a midnight coffee coming back from the movies on a Friday night. These kind of places kept the connection to the past alive. This Saturday morning the place was buzzing with clients, who had things to do and places to be, but didn’t rush like they would on a normal work day, the world could wait, the coffee couldn’t. Neither could a tiny, slender redhead, who just entered the establishmen, her stride confident and purposeful, and her face stretched in a wonderful smile. “Uncle Walter,” she said as he stood up to greet her and let her peck the air by his ear. “Dana, how many times did I ask you to drop the uncle part.” “You can ask all you want, but that’s who you are,” she giggled and sat down, “did you order already?” “Not yet, what would you like?” He handed her the menu and she glanced at it, then smiled. “Granola with low fat yogurt and coffee.” “Not pancakes?” He smiled and signalled the waitress, “you always had pancakes.” “Time to grow up,” she shrugged out of her light jacket and sipped some coffee, a fine cup of coffee was all she needed to like a place, and she loved this place in an instant. “Speak for yourself,” he replied and placed their order. The food was more than okay too, which was a huge plus for someone who wouldn’t be able to control her hours for the next few months. Being a doctor was a dream job but it came with numerous sacrifices. “Bill and Charlie want to drop by your place later, to say hi.” “Great, we could have dinner together, to celebrate.” “No, I can’t, I only have this weekend to move in, the place must be habitable by tonight because my lease on the last place is over and I have no where else to go.” “You know that’s not true, you can always have my couch,” that made her giggle, it was ages since they came to visit their uncle Walt and slept on the floor at his house. Now he was divorced and lived in a fashionable apartment building downtown, but still he thought she’s the little girl who crashed on his couch watching movies late at night. “Thanks but no thanks, the point is to do this on my own, standing on my own two feet.” She smiled sweetly stirring yogurt into the fruity mix. He practically drowned his pancakes in maple sirup, just as she remembered him doing when she was a kid. He was her Uncle and nothing he said could change that. “You still don’t want me to introduce you to this guy I know, who lives in your building?” “Now that would be embarrassing, I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.” “No one doubts that, I just thought it would be nice, to have someone who’s not a stranger.” “Walter,” her tone was strict, ending the discussion, and it also was a trademark tone of his side of the family. “Alright, alright, no more pushing, now tell me how are your folks doing, how’s my sister.” She told him about the family trip to Florida, about Bill proposing to Tara at dinner on their last night, about Missy ditching them to spend the entire week with a lifeguard, and finally herself and Charlie taking a whole day to swim with the sharks. He listened and laughed and was happy to have his favorite relative so close by his side. From all his relations, the petite Dana Scully was the kind of person her admired and loved to have around. Fearless and bright, curious like a little cat but also sensible enough to know where to draw a line. When he found out she will be taking up residency at the Georgetown University Hospital, he was happy to help find a decent place to live (which she refused), serve with advice (which she took) and any other kind of help she might need or want. She finished her story, coffee and breakfast, then glanced at her watch. “Oh my! Will you look at that, Bill and Charlie will be here soon, I gotta run,” she took out her wallet to pay for herself but he stopped her. “Don’t be silly, it’s my treat, you’ll get the next one.” “This is the next one,” she countered, but put away the money, knowing he won’t let her take the next one either. “Thank you.” “Call me when you get settled, I’ll come by to visit.” She got up and grabbed her jacket. “Come to dinner.” “Even better,” he got up with her, but made no move to leave. “You’re staying?” “I’m meeting a client.” “Oh, okay.” She smiled and hugged him briefly. “Take care of yourself Dana, and call me if you need anything.” “I will.” Dana promised and was off, as always fearless and ready to face a new challenge.

Mulder finally got up and managed not to be late for once, although cutting it so close, that he almost trampled a cute redhead exiting the diner. He held the door for her, letting her through with a quiet apology and she flashed him a smile that reached her pretty blue eyes but was gone in a knick of time right along with her, swallowed by the morning crowd. Skinner was waiting for him in a booth at the far end of the room, presently on the phone. His previous engagement must have just happened because the waitress didn’t have time to clean up the table. “Hello Walter,” he said quietly squeezing the man’s offered hand and took his place at the table, just as the waitress appeared with a smile. “Hi Mulder,” she greeted him piling up the dishes expertly in one hand. “Hello Clarice,” he smiled back, giving her his best Lecter smile, which wasn’t very good and therefore always made her laugh. “The usual?” A mug appeared in front of him and she filled it with coffee “Yup, double bacon this time.” “Coming up,” she toped Walter’s mug as well and disappeared to fill his order of double bacon, toast and eggs. A curt goodbye ended the call and Mulder found himself in direct path of a look that might kill a lesser man. “So, how’s the book coming along Mulder?” “A book?” “A short story?” “A haiku, tops.” “Fine, give me something, anything, so that I would know there’s still some words left in that grey maze you keep for a brain.” “Hey! My grey maze is doing just fine,” Mulder instantly became defensive. “Really? When was the last time you wrote something, a chapter, outline of a chapter, a line of text, tell me.” “I can do it right now.” “Oh really, right here, on the spot?” Clarice appeared with his food and Mulder thanked her, picking up his fork and knife. “Give me a moment and I’ll prove it to you.” “Fine, take your time.” Skinner sat back and waited, sipping his coffee and watching Mulder with curious eyes. Breakfast disappeared fast as he looked out the window at the passing crowd.

Mulder couldn’t deny that the writing wasn’t coming along as it used to, and it was quite some time since he came up with a decent idea, or any idea for that matter. Lately he felt stuck, somehow stuck in his life, caught in a routine that sucked the inspiration out of him one day at a time. His relationship with Diana was growing strained. From the very beginning the deal was to have no strings attached, he could date and bed anyone he wanted, as could she (only fair). But it was becoming clear that her affection lacked the depth he needed to keep him interested. They met a few times per week, shared a night, but his days were his, they weren’t a couple, he hardly could call them friends with benefits. Benefits were alright, the friends part not so much. He couldn’t even remember the last time she really smiled at him. The girl he passed in the doorway earlier had more warmth in her smile for a stranger than Diana had for him, her lover for over a year now. He took a napkin and wrote down the first words that came to his mind on a wave of those feelings.

“Blue and red girl A flourish of a smile My heart starves”

Watching him pushing the napkin across the table, Skinner took it and glanced at the words with a critical eye. "It's not nothing but it isn't something either," he declared, not unkindly but with a distinct note of reprimand. Mulder looked up at his friend and mentor, but instead of reproach behind the wire-rimmed glasses, he saw concern. "Remember what I you told when we first met?" Skinner paused waiting for an answer. "Write every day, one word at a time, a sentence, a paragraph, and before you know it you'll have a book in your hands." He recited the words that pulled him through some of his worst writer-blocks, yet today didn't bring him any comfort. As a psychologist he knew that lack of inspiration was only a symptom of something deeper. He took the napkin back and folding it, put it away in his pocket. Walter’s eyes were still on him. “Do you still believe that?” He asked finishing the last of his coffee. “I want to believe.”

They parted ways, and Mulder headed for the swimming pool, taking the long way round. He needed to relax and there was something about water that calmed him and helped sort through the bad thoughts that were gradually taking over his mind. When he passed his building and saw a U-Haul truck and two man struggling with an overstuffed couch, he was glad he thought ahead and took his gym bag when he left earlier. Someone must have leased the place above his flat.

“No no no no no, leave it,” she stoped Charlie before he could touch her precious coffee machine. “I’ll take it up myself, you can take the china, it’s the box to your left.” “You’re funny Dana, you let me handle fragile cups and plates but won’t let me touch that monster, which is certainly heavier than you are.” “This is my coffee machine and if I break it, there will be no one to blame for it but me,” she hugged the boxy coffee maker as if it was her dearest child, “half of my first pay check went into this baby” “Suit yourself,” he picked up the box then grimaced at the wight of it, “okay, I take it back, it can’t be heavier than this.” “Come on, we’re past the worst part, the bed and sofa are in, we’re almost done.” “Yeah, all we have to do now is haul half of Library Of Congress, up three flights of stairs, no elevator. I don’t think my optimism can cover that.” “Then stop wagging your tongue and get moving.” Bill said climbing up the ramp, military training oozing from his every pore, as if he was self-proclaimed general and this was his stretch of the front, “unless you have some magic powers to help us with the heavy lifting.” “Use the force Luke,” Dana croaked in a poor imitation of Master Yoda. “I can’t, it’s too big,” Charlie faked dropping the box and she gasped. “Gotch’a” he chuckled. “That was low,” she glared and pointed one finger at the door. “Get moving you beanstalk!” Her annoyed expression made him really laugh this time, but he did as ordered, following Bill who was carrying another one of the heavy boxes. The three of them managed to move everything in less than two hours and the boys left Dana’s new place with a sense of a job well done, despite her refusing their offer to help with unpacking. She thanked them and promised to join them wherever they manage to drag out Uncle Walter. After she shut the door behind them and looked around the place, the enormity of the step finally started to sink in. She was living on her own, starting a new job in two days and she was going to do this alone. And she was ready to do it! She will show them all! But first she needed coffee, yes, coffee will pull her through.

Mulder came back home, somewhere between one box run and the next. The thumping on the stairs didn’t bother him that much; he was planning to take a nap anyway. A mile along the swimming pool made him deliciously tired and ready to cheat insomnia out of few hours of sleep. The living room was still a mess, and picking up clothes to make room on the couch he noticed traces of lipstick on the collar of his favorite white shirt and got instantly annoyed with Diana. Great, just what he needed, maybe Mrs. Woo could work her magic and save it, but the discovery left him discouraged, made him feel like a thing, marked and left on a shelf for another day. He decided to clean up the rest of the place later, not that he was expecting anybody tonight anyway. The couch was well worn and a good friend of his. Two hours later Mulder woke up and smiled at the ceiling, recognizing a faint echo of Perry Como, who’s papa loved mambo. Good thing it wasn’t another silence loving nag who called the police twice a month, he had enough of that. Gathering the wine glasses and take-out cartons from the coffee table, he danced a little on his way to the kitchen, humming the familiar tune under his breath. He went two and let the water swirl around the glass, washing out the remaining wine, on four squeezed some soap on the sponge and wiped the lipstick of the edge of glass... And in that moment his hand slipped and by pure reflex he squeezed the bowl, crushing the glass. Blood darker than wine flowed from a deep cut in the palm of his right hand. He tore off a paper towel and pressed it against the wound, then rummaged through the cabinets, searching for bandages, bandaids, anything to stop the bleeding. Heart racing, adrenaline fuelled his thesaurus and if he stoped to listen to what he was saying, he’d be surprised how many swear words he knew and how colourful pictures he could paint with them. Still he found nothing, the first aid kit was empty, not even a piece of gauze in a torn sterile packet, he carved himself a new, shorter, lifeline. The paper towel was turning bright red fast, he needed help. The couple downstairs was out of town, Alex on top floor was a prick and creeped him out, his only chance was the new guy upstairs.

Rushing to the door, Mulder bumped his head painfully on the open cabinet doors, cursing the world again and still rubbing his forehead, took the steps two at a time and knocked on the door urgently. Quite the dramatic way to introduce himself to the new neighbor, he couldn’t have written it better himself if he tried. A small redhead opened the door and beneath the frizzing tresses he recognized the blue eyes he saw disappear into the crowd that morning, but before he could say anything, or even find his tongue, she noticed his bloodied face and pulled him inside. “What happened?” She asked briskly, dancing between boxes while dragging him to the kitchen by the sleeve of his shirt. Flicking the lights on and sitting him in a chair, she tilted his face into the light, searching for injury that was the source of all the blood. “I was doing dishes,” he finally spoke and wriggled from under her touch to show her his bleeding hand, “you got any bandages?” They looked at each other, he in pain yet slightly amused, she concerned and as serious as one could get, but only for a second untill they both laughed. “Sure,” the girl relaxed and from between the boxes produced a deep red, medical looking bag, “you’ve come to the right place.” She took his right hand in hers, looking under the paper towel to asses the damage. “Fox Mulder, pleased to meet you,” he quipped. “Dana Scully, M.D.” the girl smiled, glancing up and meeting his eyes. “Well Doctor Scully, is it bad?” “You won’t be doing any dishwashing for a few days,” she said looking for tweezers in case there was some glass left. “Just patch me up and I’ll buy you dinner, nobody does the dishes tonight.”

#rainbows end #msr fanfic #x files fanfic #x files au

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hedgehog-o-brien · 5 years

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I’m so proud rn it’s ridiculous

[bit of backstory: I spent seven years as a member of a Christian student’s association, which can be compared to a very very mild fraternity/sorority I guess. Pretty heavily Christian though, from all kinds of denominations: from Roman Catholic to Evangelical to anything in between. Best years of my life, honestly, and I’m gonna tell you why below.]

I met a guy, a couple of years ago. Let’s call him Jeremy (it’s not his name, but close enough). I was a fifth-year at the moment, he was a first-year but we were still the same age, from the same part of the country, we both studied the same subject and so we kinda hit it off. As friends, because I just came out of an ugly breakup with Fellow Fanperson (oh yeah, that happened. Don’t think I ever told you guys, but yeah. FF and I broke up in... 2014? I guess? Any questions, ask away but that’s not... well, that kinda is what this story is about, but not in that way. I’m not making any sense. Let’s continue).

Anywho. Break up. Me not really a happy bunny. And since Jeremy and FF were pretty much the same guy, so I was very much holding off the relationship boat but otherwise, we had fun hanging out and talking and being shy little geeks in our own little corner of the student’s association bar.

And when I met Jeremy, he was. A guy. Guy-guy. Ratty t-shirts, jeans, long hair that was not really well-groomed, etc. You get the picture.

Fast forward a couple of years.

I’m a seventh-year now and about to leave the association and the town. Jeremy is in his third year, has had some study setbacks, hit some other roadblocks but also made some changes. For instance, his hair’s still long but shiny and smells fruity. He’s wearing bright nail polish. He’s never told me or talked to me about it, but even then I had some sneaking suspicions that Jeremy might be on some kind of road of self discovery.

Fast forward another two years. It’s an association reunion and I walk into the bar to be greeted by Jeremy, who’s still a member (fifth year, for those of you who have been keeping track). And Jeremy.

Is in full face make up, foundation, eye shadow, lipstick, and when he steps out from behind the bar, I notice he’s wearing a skirt. Like, knee-length, black over black tights but still, noticeable, a skirt.

And that already made me so happy for him.

That he’s got the courage to be himself, in an environment that I’ve always known to be inclusive (despite whatever everybody thinks (rightly so, I know) when they see the label ‘Christian’) but I hadn’t known-known. If you know what I mean. I mean, theoretically I knew everybody should be accepted. But we all know that theory isn’ t practice and that it’s all too often that people say ‘yes, well, but we didn’t mean this’ .

Anywho.

I talked to Jeremy. We lost touch (I’m very bad at keeping in touch with people, no joke) but yeah, my suspicions were correct. He’s definitely figuring some things out, and he’s not sure if he’s cis or trans or something in between, but the way he’s dressed right now, that feels right. And yeah, he’s gotten some odd looks, especially when people visit the association for the first time, but overall? To everybody, he’s still Jeremy. Only Jeremy wears skirts and make up now. And that’s cool.

And that already made me so happy that I almost started crying right then and there. Especially, and here we get back to Fellow Fanperson for a bit, since FF also liked to doll himself up but he was way too ashamed to admit it to anyone except me and some other close friends (I told you they were alike). The fact that Jeremy wasn’t ashamed and showed himself, me and others that there was nothing to be ashamed of? Boy, I know several people who could learn a lot from him.

Third flash forward to five minutes ago.

I’m supposed to be at work but actually I’m on FB, browsing like you do when you’re bored af. And I come across a picture of, like, a fraternity subdivision of the student’s association. Like, all the guys have bonded there together bc the association was mostly girls and they needed some guy-time or whatever. It’s cigars and whiskey and ugly ties and sparerib nights and everything you’d think of when a bunch of adolescent dudes get together.

So I see that picture. And

That’s Jeremy in the sweet red dress.

And the founder, this 40-something suburban Christian guy, the founder of the all-guy-subdivision has responded to the picture, saying he’s incredibly proud to see this, to see the honor of the Diogenes Club (yes, that’s what it’s called, yes I find it funny as hell and no they don’t like it when you point out to them what Diogenes was really like) held high.

And that’s why I’m hear, holding back tears while trying to get back to a translation about fitness equipment.

#personal #long rambling

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sugarless-suki-writes · 6 years

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Big God

Fandom: Inuyasha Rating: M Word Count: 4,707 Chapters: 3 of ?

Read on FF||Ao3

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Chapter Three

Ginta and Hakkaku had teased Kouga relentlessly as soon as they had walked out of view of the apartment complex the miko was staying in. The alpha did his best to deny their allegations, but that just furthered their teasings. Eventually, he just decided to ignore them. The betas stopped after throwing out a couple more comments, a little disappointed, but not surprised, that Kouga had simply started to ignore them.

They walked in silence for a few moments, slowly and carefully making their way to the compound. “So Kouga... what happened?” Ginta asked, breaking the silence between them.

He let out a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. “I was careless. It was some guys from a rival group, I’m not sure which one... but they were harassing this kid and I had to step in. The sleazy assholes pulled a knife on me.” Ginta and Hakkaku winced. “Cowards couldn’t even finish the job. They’re probably low in the ranks, if not at the bottom. They were weak and if not for the knife, I probably would’ve won and ripped their heads off.” he finished with a shrug.

“Do you know who they belonged to?” Hakkaku asked.

Kouga shook his head. “Nah, no clue. Not like it matters, they’ll mess up one day and it’ll cost them greatly.”

The two betas nodded in agreement at that. From there, their walk home was spent in relative silence. It wasn’t long before they arrived at the compound, and once it was made known Kouga was back, the entire pack jumped on him. They surrounded him immediately, asking him all kinds of questions and trying to figure out if he was hurt or not. A snarl ripped through Kouga’s chest, and they all stopped and backed away from him.

“Jesus, give me a minute, alright? I can’t hear you if you all talk at once.” he snapped. Several members of the pack shuffled nervously as they waited for their alpha to cool down and give them the go ahead. Or for him to explain what happened to him and why he didn’t come home. Kouga let out a huff and ran a hand over his face. He then took the time to explain what happened to his pack, hoping he wouldn’t get a million questions afterwards.

Once he was done explaining, he looked around, hands on his hips. “Any follow-up questions?” he asked. There was a long pause before a hand shot up. He grumbled. “Yes, Kamelia?”

“Sir, when do we get to meet the miko who saved you?”

Kouga grumbled and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jesus fucking....” His head snapped up then and he glared at Kamelia. “Why would you need to meet her?”

“Because she saved your life, sir! We all owe her our lives!” She paused for a moment, her eyes slowly shifting to meet his. Once they locked eyes, a smirk worked its way onto her face. A devious look was in her eyes and Kouga wasn’t sure how to feel about it, or address it. “Besides, I have a feeling we’ll be seeing more of her regardless.”

Kouga’s glare hardened and grew even colder, somehow. This didn’t phase Kamelia though, in fact, her shit-eating grin only doubled in size at the sign of Kouga’s resistance/denial. After a few moments, Kouga sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I fucking give up, whatever.” he grumbled. “I’m tired, I’m going to sleep.” And with that, he walked off, not missing a few snickers scattered throughout the pack. He rolled his eyes and decided to ignore it for now. He walked into the main building on the compound and made his way to his room.

The compound was once a palace owned by a feudal lord. However, Kouga’s pack had taken it over, usurping the young lord and killing and eating all the staff. They had traveled closer to civilization once their original territory in the mountains became unsafe and uninhabitable. Their arch rivals at the time, the Birds of Paradise, had grown in ranks and they were losing pack members every day. It was difficult leaving their homeland, but it worked out. As for eating humans... they stopped that a long while ago. It was harder, darker times back in the feudal era. You did what you had to do, and for his pack, the end justified any means.

Kouga wanted to return home to the mountains at some point in time, but he just wasn’t sure when, or if they even could. It’s possible that their original territory was now overrun with humans. It saddened him, but such was life. He let out a sigh and opened the door to his room, sliding it closed behind him. He walked over to his bed and promptly collapsed onto it.

He was exhausted; it had been a long day and he hadn’t gotten good rest last night. Not to say he didn’t appreciate Kagome’s help and care, it was just that it caused him to tease his body with what sleep felt like, and now that’s all it wanted from him. He hadn’t had proper sleep in what felt like centuries. With a huff, he curled up in bed, being mindful of his wounds as he pulled the covers up and settled into the fur covered bed. It wasn’t long before he passed out.

-BG-

It had been two days, and Kagome was sad that her small break was going to come to an end. She laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling, unwilling to move out of the warmth and softness it provided. Kikyo should be coming back from her honeymoon in a couple days, so that would help with her stress and workload.

She sighed and slowly rolled out of bed. She grabbed a pair of leggings she had lying on the floor and pulled them on before walking out of her room. She yawned and stretched as she walked into the kitchen, opening the fridge and looking at what she had. Since she had three consecutive days off, she was able to actually stock her fridge. She didn’t buy too much, not sure when she’d be home again and not wanting to waste food.

She hummed and rocked on her feet, tapping a finger against her lips as she contemplated her options, of which there weren’t many. She eventually made up her mind, settling on making herself some omurice. She pulled out what she needed and set to work. Thankfully she had some leftover rice, and was able to use that for the fried rice.

It didn’t take her too long to make, and once she was done, she plated it and walked over to the couch, plopping down and turning on the TV. She brought her legs up, tucking them under herself and relaxing into the couch. She had the TV set to a show she had been trying to keep up with. Thankfully over this small break she had, she’d been able to catch back up.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but a knock on the door had pulled her attention away. She paused the episode and set her food down on the coffee table, frowning as she stood up. Who could that be? she asked herself. She knew it wasn’t Sango, as she was busy with work, and the only other person who would drop by unannounced was Inuyasha, and he was with Kikyo on their honeymoon. So that didn’t really leave her with any clues as to who this could be.

Kagome approached the door with caution, ready to take action in case it was an intruder. When she opened the door, her eyes widened as they met baby blue.

Kouga greeted Kagome with a lopsided grin. “Hey doc. Here to get my stitches removed.”

She had completely forgotten...

It had all felt like some strange fever dream, so could anyone really blame her for forgetting the yakuza now owed her a life debt?

The yakuza owed her a life debt....

She felt like she could vomit. However, she forced it back and gave him a meek smile. “Hey. Umm... come right on in.” She opened the door and had to fight back her embarrassment. She was dressed in a grey tank top and black leggings; not really something one would wear when expecting company... or really what you’d expect a doctor to wear.

Kouga stepped into the apartment, taking his shoes off carefully and trying to figure out what that fruity scent surrounding the miko was. He tried to rid himself of his current train of thought. Why did it matter to him what emotion she was currently feeling? It didn’t matter. He was going to pay his life debt and then they would never see each other again. That was that. His wolf seemed to think otherwise, growling at him and pushing him to talk to her, stay with her, get to know her. Kouga ignored it.

He stepped into the living area and glanced over at the TV. “Whatcha watching?”

Kagome has just rounded the corner and looked at where he gestured. “Oh, uh.. it’s this show called Midnight Diner. It’s pretty good.” she said with a soft smile. She then started to explain the basic gist of the show while she got everything set up. She blushed as she realized she had been talking for quite a bit longer than she meant to, and she sat down the last of her items a bit sheepishly. “Sorry. I just.. it makes me happy and it’s a good, nice show to watch after a long... trying day..” she said.

He simply smiled at her and waved off her concern. “It’s alright, nothin’ wrong with you being interested and invested in something.”

She smiled warmly at him and he felt something twinge in his chest. His smile widened.

“Alright, let’s get this done so you can get on your way.”

Kouga chuckled. “Think you’re getting rid of me? I still owe you, you know?”

Kagome rolled her eyes. “Still trying to get out of paying your bill, I see.” she said, a smirk on her face as she moved closer to the wolf.

“I thought I wasn’t getting billed?”

She shrugged as she plopped down on the couch next to him. “I’m still thinking about it. Now, take your shirt off so I can see your wound.”

He looked at her then and she didn’t like the glint in his eyes, or the fact his mouth was opening to speak. “Don’t you dare say anything. I can make taking them out more painful than necessary.” Kouga’s mouth snapped shut and Kagome nodded. Good.

Kouga then removed his jacket and Kagome was, once again, caught off guard by the tattoos on display. He started to remove his shirt and she did her best not to ogle. She was just.. appreciating the art. His tattoos. Not his body. Nope. Definitely not.. looking.. at his pecs. His sweet, juicy tits. Just the art on them. Yep. Totally. Definitely.

It took her a couple seconds to realize he had finished undressing, and when she did, she blushed something fierce and tried to clear her mind. Get it together Kagome! Kouga tried to control the rumble of laughter that was building in his chest. Kagome then started to take a look at his wound. She was amazed at how good it was healing.

“How did it heal so fast?” she mumbled, ghosting her finger over the seam of her sutures.

“You wanna know?”

Her blush darkened. She didn’t realize she had said it out loud, or that he had been able to hear her. Of course he had, he’s a wolf youkai. “Yeah, if you don’t mind telling me.”

“Our powers get stronger with the moon. It’s a full moon tonight, and when I got stabbed it was a waxing gibbous. We wax and wane with the moon. Of course, even with new moons we’re still strong, just not at our peak.” He replied with a shrug.

Kagome nodded, trying to tuck this information away. It would certainly help her with any wolf youkai patients she gets in the future. “Interesting... Thank you.” She smiled at him and then turned away, reaching for the items she had placed on the table. Kouga’s heart was left hammering in his chest.

She gathered up what she needed and then turned back to him, quirking an eyebrow at the expression on his face. He played it off with a lopsided grin, which stained her cheeks pink.

“Alright.. just lean back and relax. You’ll probably feel a tug, but it won’t hurt.” she said, giving him a warm smile. He nodded and leaned back against the back of the couch. Kagome then slipped off the couch, onto the floor, and set to work.

It was a slow process, and Kouga watched her intensely. He hoped to learn how to remove stitches so if he ever needed them again in the future, which he was sure he would, he’d know how to remove them himself. It could also benefit his pack as well. She could benefit their pack. He had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at the wolf. It was just persistent today.

He watched as she pulled each knot up with the tweezers and then carefully snipped at the thread below the knot. It felt weird when she pulled the thread out. He was mesmerized by how easily she maneuvered. It was graceful, elegant, effortless; like she didn’t even have to really think about it. She just.. did it. It was quite amazing to him. Despite the process being slow and methodical, it didn’t take her very long to finish the job. He hadn’t needed many stitches, so there were only a couple sutures she needed to cut and remove. It was over relatively quickly. Once she was done, she set everything back down on the table, on top of a paper towel, and sat back up onto the couch.

She did her best to not glance at his chest, trying to focus strictly on his too blue eyes. Gods they were blue. Who gave him the right to be this attractive? She took in a deep breath, calming herself before giving him a smile. “Well, you’re all done here.” she said.

“Thanks, doc.” he said, grinning at her. He then reached for his shirt, and while a part of her was sad to see his succulent tits get covered up once more, the majority of her was grateful. Now she didn’t have to worry about ogling him and embarrassing herself. He left his jacket off, however, so it gave her a chance to look over his arms. They were quite muscular, and she had this urge to reach out and squeeze his bicep.

“Hey Kagome?” She looked up at his eyes then, embarrassed to have been caught staring again. She had seen and dealt with plenty of attractive people at work, yet none of them had compelled her to stare as much as Kouga had. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that...

“Yes, Kouga?” she asked.

“Would it be alright if I stayed here for a bit?”

She let out a short, nervous laugh. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Just wanna hang out a bit. Get to know you. Maybe I can figure out how to pay this favor I owe you.” He answered with a smirk.

Kagome rolled her eyes, but a smile worked its way onto her face. “Alright, I guess. As long as you don’t mind watching this show with me.” She then got up off the couch and started to clean off the table. She tossed the paper towel that had the sutures in it and set the tweezers and scissors by the sink. She could wash those later.

Kouga watched her as she moved around the small apartment, his eyes tracing her thighs and hips. Her leggings were the athletic kind, so the spandex clung to every contour of her thighs, ass, and hips, showing off how thick they were. Her thighs were probably soft and plush, maybe a bit of muscle tone hidden underneath. Her hips were wide and the way they swayed had him lick his lips. Large and good for pups.. He did his best to block the wolf from his mind.

He somehow managed to stop ogling her rear by the time she turned back around and started to walk towards him once more. She bent down to pick up the discarded omurice from earlier and plopped back down next to him. She was on the opposite side of him now, closer to the TV.

“None for me?” he asked teasingly.

“Nope, you came too late. Kitchen is closed.” she replied, reaching for the remote and pressing the play button. He snickered and leaned back into the couch, turning his attention to the TV now that it was on.

Kagome smiled to herself and brought a spoonful of omurice to her mouth. She frowned as she chewed it. It was cold, lukewarm at best. It had been sitting there for a little bit.. Thankfully there wasn’t much left over, so maybe she could power through it. She could get up and go to the microwave, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to get up. She had felt Kouga’s eyes on her as she was cleaning up and it had sent a chill up her spine. Maybe she had put on a little bit of a show for him, adding a bit of an extra swing in her hips. Maybe.

She wasn’t sure if she could handle it a second time or not.

So, she sat there and finished off her food, powering through it. When she was done, she set it down on the table in front of them and leaned back into the couch, pulling her legs up and tucking them underneath herself.

They sat there quietly, not saying anything, just enjoying the show. Kouga had his arm stretched across the back of the couch, and Kagome had to continuously tell herself to not lean her head back. She didn’t want to cause his arm any discomfort, and she also didn’t want to feed into whatever it was they were doing. She didn’t know if his flirting meant anything or if that’s just who he was. Not that she minded; it had been a while since anyone had flirted with her. Though to be fair, she’s been holed up in the emergency room for several months, dedicating herself specifically to her work. Sure, some of her patients flirted with her, but it was nowhere near the level Kouga was on.

Sure, the words he said weren’t really all that different from what she’s used to hearing, it’s just the intensity of his stare. His eyes were so blue and so intense, she hardly knew what to do with herself. Whenever he looked at her, she could feel it, and it always gave her chills. There was something old and primal in his eyes whenever she looked into them, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it. All she knew was that look didn’t help matters.

Kouga’s eyes slowly drifted down, looking at her. Something new was spiking in her scent, something spicy and intoxicating; something that set his wolf on edge and made it even more pushy. He roamed his eyes over her form, drinking her in, and the scent spiked again. He almost didn’t catch the small shudder that went through her. Almost. A smirk curled his lips and he forced down a chuckle.

The episode was soon over, and it seemed to be the last one of the season, as the Netflix ending screen recommended her another series. Kagome let out a small sigh and went back to the home screen. It took her a couple seconds to work up the nerve to turn around and face Kouga. She took in a deep breath and finally, finally, turned around to face him. The look in his eyes caused her cheeks to flush, and the lopsided grin he wore didn’t help matters. Why? Why is he like this? Who gave him the right? She asked herself, once again.

“Kagome..”

Her blush darkened at the deep rumble of his voice. “Yes?”

“I’m going to have to get going soon but.. can I get your number?”

Her heart nearly stopped. She played off her nervousness with a small laugh and a playful grin. “And why would you need that?”

“Oh, I dunno... so I can talk to you? And I guess try to repay my debt.”

She rolled her eyes, but her heart was hammering in her chest. “Well... I guess I can give you my number. It’ll be easier to give you your bill that way.” she replied with a wink.

His grin widened. “Still trying to charge me, huh?”

“I gotta eat somehow.”

“I could just bring you food and feed you myself.”

She stared at him for a couple seconds, her blush darkening, the heat in her body building. His gaze was so intense... Is this how deer feel before a wolf chases them down? She blinked and let out a small snicker, trying her best to play things off. “I’d like to see you try.” She began to get up, ready to grab her phone out of her room.

“Is that a challenge?”

She tapped a finger to her lips, drawing Kouga’s eyes to them. They were nice and pink, plump, full, kissable. “Maybe it is.” Then she spun on her heel and sauntered over to her room, putting an extra sway in her step.

Kouga’s eyes were easily and instantly drawn to her ass, watching as her hips swayed with each step. A lump formed in his throat and he licked his lips. When she disappeared into her room, he brought a hand up to his face, covering his mouth and fighting the blush that threatened to stain his cheeks. His wolf was preening, it was also pushing him to make a move; claim her, mark her, mate her. Kouga nearly snarled, internally telling the beast to shut its mouth.

Kagome soon stepped out of her room, and Kouga quickly schooled his features, leaning back against the couch casually, a lazy grin on his face. She eyed him for a moment and Kouga loved the way her eyes roamed over him. It was just a couple seconds, but it felt like a lifetime.

She smiled and walked towards him, quickly reaching the couch and sitting down next to him once more. She had her phone in her hand this time and he watched as she unlocked it. He only caught a quick flash of her lock screen, so he didn’t really see what it was. Her home screen was a cute patterned graphic of Shiba Inus and radishes. She swiped to the left and then tapped on the icon for her contacts. It opened up and she pressed on a button and the pop up for creating a new contact appeared.

She then handed it over, a wide grin on her face. “Don’t try and take it from me this time. As you can clearly see, I’m not trying to call the hospital or the cops.”

He chuckled, taking the phone and starting to type in his information. “I’ll believe you, this time.” he replied, shooting her a wink. He absolutely adored the shade of pink her cheeks turned. He was quick to put in his information, and when he was done, he handed the phone back to her and proceeded to pull out his own. She took it back from him, setting the device on the table and waiting for him to hand her his phone. When he did, she quickly put in her information as well.

When she was done, she handed the device back to him and he slipped it into his pocket. They sat there for a couple seconds, quietly, staring at each other. Kagome was the first to look away, turning her head to try and hide her blush. Kouga chuckled and rose from his spot on the couch.

“I’ll see ya around, Kagome.” he said.

She turned to look at him and a smile slowly crept onto her face. “Hopefully you won’t be on death’s door next time.” she teased.

“Hey, I’ll have you know I wasn’t close to death.”

“Yeah, thanks to me.”

He laughed again, shaking his head a bit. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” Before she could respond, or even fully process what he had said, he was rounding the corner and gone from her sight. She heard the door unlock, open, and close all within a few seconds and she knew he was gone. Oh Gods.. what was she going to do?

-BG-

It was late in the night, and Kagome couldn’t get to sleep. Blue eyes, strong muscles, and juicy, succulent tits refused to leave her mind. She threw her covers off, leaving her exposed to the fan and AC. She let out a breath, heavy and hot. Shit....

She brought a hand up to her stomach, which was partially exposed due to her shirt riding up. She then slipped her hand up under the fabric and slid it up to cup her breast. She let out a ragged breath as she brushed her thumb over her nipple, causing it to perk up. She then began to pinch and twist the nub, imagining larger, rougher hands were performing said action.

While her one hand teased her nipple, the other slid down her abdomen, ghosting over her pussy and sliding along the inside of her thigh. She dug her nails into the supple flesh, raking her nails down harsher and harder than she normally would. But she needed the sharpness, needed the sting of pain, needed the feeling of claws dragging along her sensitive skin.

She teased herself for a while, her breath getting heavier and hotter. After a while, she brought her hand back up towards her abdomen and then slipped it underneath her panties. She brushed her thumb over her clit, her breath hitching at the action. She rubbed it slowly, gently, wishing her hands were larger and rougher, wishing they were someone else’s, wishing they were his.

Her movements stilled for a moment as her cheeks flushed. Was she really doing this? Was she really going to lay here and rub one out at the thought of someone she barely knew? A short-term patient? A member of the yakuza? That deep, primal look he kept flashing her with his too blue eyes crossed her mind and she continued her actions. Yes.. yes she was.

The sound of her moans slowly filled the small space of her bedroom. They began to increase in volume and pitch as she intensified her actions. She slipped a finger inside herself and she gasped. Somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered what his dick looked like and how it would feel going inside her instead of her slender fingers.

She bit her lip, trying to keep herself quiet as she fueled the fantasy she had playing out in her mind. His deep, husky voice in her ear, whispering dirty, filthy words. His hands roaming her body, touching her, teasing her. His fangs grazing her ear, her neck, her throat. Pressure built in her abdomen and her breaths became rapid and shallow as she neared her peak.

She soon pulled her fingers completely out and focused on her clit. Her pinches on her nipple grew harder and harsher. Her toes began to curl to the point it was almost painful. And finally, as she imagined his fangs piercing her neck, she peaked with a cry. Her body convulsed and she slowly pulled her hands away as she waited for her trembling to slow.

Kagome laid there, panting and still slightly shaking, staring up at her ceiling fan spinning on high speed. She ran a hand through her bangs, the one not covered in her juices, and let out a heavy sigh. She was screwed....

#inuyasha #inuyasha fic #koukag #kougome #kougkag #kogkag #slight lemon

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davaia · 6 years

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hmmm... would you ever write a fic where... Qui-Gon is horribly disappointed by the Order (à la Patrician, but instead of hearing it from Obi-Wan—members of the Council try to persuade Qui to ignore some nefarious dealings); he leaves, becoming an independent negotiator? would this happen before or after Obi-Wan's apprenticeship? or his knighting? does Obi stick to him like glue, or does he stay in the Order growing, more and more disillusioned with it, then run into Jinn one day on the outside?

In typical Saner fashion, you’ve pretty much written the whole dang thing for me. :D Forgive typos--I’m only through nine of my fourteen cups of morning coffee. OKAY. Here’s how I’d tackle this scenario. Thoroughly disillusioned Qui-Gon leaves the Order after Xanatos (the proverbial straw on the tired-ass camel’s back). The Order flips out because Qui-Gon is their toptoptoptop best A+++ guns a’blazin’ negotiator THEY CANNOT LOSE HIM FFS. But nah. FUCK ALL Y’ALL, the Maverick it OUT. Done. Tapped out. Mama-needs-a-DRINK-and-a-XANAX level tapped out. He’s doesn’t even go into independent negotiating. He scrapes and gambles and wheedles enough credits together to buy himself a nice little cottage and garden plot out on the coast on Scarif or some nice-ass relaxing tropical planet. Fruit trees and shit. SO MUCH BETTER. Meanwhile, the Order is LOSING THEIR MINDS. So year after year after year after year they send Jedi to convince him to come back. Fail, fail, fail, fail, fail. Master? Fuck you. Knight? I mean you can TRY. Senior Padawan? You poor misguided thing--let me make you some delicious, home-grown tea while we have a chat on the porch and I Plant The Seed Of Doubt Forever In Your Mind Going Forward, Also Please Take This Fruity Coconut Shell Umbrella Drink Back To Mace He Just Loves That Shit. Qui-Gon probably sends some kitschy souvenir back with everyone they send his way--palm tree keychains, sunset holo postcards, dancing hula-banthas for the speeder dash, etc. etc. etc. Finally. FINALLY. The Order brings out the Big Guns: their rising-star negotiator, absolute stellar and unblemished mission record, Perfect-Padawan-Turned-Model-Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi. Even better: HE WAS MACE’S PADAWAN. Obi-Wan shows up expecting some sort of grizzly, angry, bitter beach-wampa but nah. It’s a giant, handsome, friendly, perfectly rational beach-mountain who invites him in for tea. Something something something talking something witty banter something oops sex???? something something OH SHIT OBI-WAN LEAVES THE ORDER TO LIVE IN A CHARMING BEACH-SHANTY WITH THE HANDSOME BEACH-MOUNTAIN. The Order’s collective heads explode. It’s messy. Do they give up? Or do they double-down on their desperation and keep sending Jedi after Jedi to convince Qui-Gon and now Obi-Wan to re-join the Order? I dunno. I haven’t thought that far ahead. I do know that Mace is getting TWO dancing hula-banthas this year. THE END. There ‘ya go.

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randomstoriesofabunny · 6 years

Text

Chapter 2: They courted

Summary: Have you ever wanted something so much that the fear of not getting it makes you wonder if you ever should have wanted it at all? Steve Rogers is the last one of the royal lineage. The moment he got crowned King, the court and his mother pressured him to get married and have an heir. But he wants to find love in this cold world where everyone is moved around like a chess piece.

Words: 2045

Warnings: Cheesy scene at the beach. The story starts kind of fluff but it will have a sad ending! You’ve been warned!!

A/N: This story is for @caplansteverogers angst challenge.

This ended more fluffy and cheesy that I expected >w< Definitely, listening the soundtrack of the movies pride & prejudice and The Young Victoria helped a lot.

I hope you enjoy it!

"Stop fussing with your tie!" Natasha scolded and moved Steve's hands out of the way to remake his knot tie.

"Sorry," he muttered sheepishly and looked around to avoid Nat's eyes.

"I told you we got this," she said and changed her attention to the earpiece in her ear, "all right, the others finished the standard procedure."

"You really have to check everyone, every time we go to a party? I highly doubt someone would try to kill me in one," Steve murmurs while looking at his reflection in the mirror a last time.

"It's for your safety," she shrugged and handed him a gun so he could hide it in the inside of his jacket. He knew Natasha and Bucky were the best, but he liked the idea to be able to protect himself in case the situation went south.

"You never know, besides, we promised the Queen we would return you in one piece," after a moment of silence, she snorted. Probably Bucky said something in the comms.

Steve walked down the hall and passed the doors that took him to the ballroom. It was the first time ever he arrived at a party and everyone wasn't looking at him, like they’ve been waiting for him. He could see people chatting amicably or dancing on the other side of the room.

When he first saw the Lord Stark’s mansion he was astounded. He knew the house was near a cliff, what he never expected was the fact a part of the house was suspended over the edge by thick columns over the sea. He was used to the ancient manors, decorated with the different artistic movement of the era they were built. However, this mansion had its own charm and he was able to appreciate it more with the decorations for the party.

He walked around, looking at the people. He recognized some men or women from the court, another from the pictures Nat showed him from the file she made especially for this party. A hand on his right shoulder caught his attention and he saw Tony Stark offers him a glass of wine.

“For a moment I thought you were hiding,” he said. Before Steve could say something he added, “now let me introduce you to the sharks, don’t worry too much and don’t splash, they love that.”

You had arrived with your father to this country with false promises. When your father asked you if you wanted to go on a business trip with him to another kingdom you were thrilled. Finally! They will let me involve more in the family business, you thought excitedly. Instead of just go as a person of confidence to the other kingdoms only to make sure all the merchandise had arrived safely, you were going to be able to make trades with the other Lords.

That was until you were being dragged around by your father in this damned party searching for the king, your heart shattered when reality reached you. You were here to be offered to the king as future wife, like merchandise. Not to be introduced to your father’s business partners or to watch how he made deals with them so you could get experience. Certainly it was a business trip for him.

When he got entertained discussing the prices of different ores of precious metals you excused yourself to get some space away from him. A waiter passed with a trail full of glasses of wine, you took your first glass of wine of the night, since you had been forced to stay close in case your father found the mysterious king.

The fruity flavor of the wine helped you to soothe your anger and disappointment. After a moment, you decided he wasn’t going to ruin your night, you were already here so you would make the most of it.

You walked towards the dance floor, maybe if you looked around you could get someone to dance with. Studying the people in the room your gaze fell on a stranger. A handsome stranger. He had a chiseled jaw, his blond hair was short and curled ever so slightly over his forehead.

Suddenly, his eyes met yours and he gave you a polite smile. Heat started to warm your cheeks so you smiled back and turned around to go to the next room. He caught me blatantly ogling him! You thought embarrassed.

“There you are!” the voice of your father caught your attention and you watched him walk towards you, he caught your arm with his hand and pulled you towards him, “I told you to stay close to me, now I’m going to introduce you to the king and you better behave.”

“Yes, father” you mumbled, trying to hide your annoyance.

He took you back to the room you were and walked towards the cute stranger you saw before. He definitely was not what you imagine the king would be. You expected a middle aged man with a permanent sneer on his face, but now that you could see him closer he seemed young, near his late twenties at least.

“Your Highness, this is my daughter (Y/N),” your father said and pushed you discreetly towards him.

Steve wondered why you were on the file when the fact your father expected and advantageous marriage through you was obvious. He was caught off guard when you extended your hand like you were expecting him to shake it, instead of courtesy or give him the back of your hand so he could kiss it. There wasn’t a suggestive smile, you didn’t fluttered your eyelashes or winked at him. Even your dress was beautiful, hugging your body perfectly without showing too much cleavage, unlike the other ladies he met so far.

His surprise must have been obvious because your father scolded you, however, he took your hand before you could take it back and shook it.

“Do you want to dance with me?” Steve asked you and you nodded.

The song was soft, perfect for a slow dance. The king moves you around following the rhythm of the music perfectly.

“C-can I-”you trailed off and mumbled a never mind.

“It’s okay,” he said with an encouraging smile.

“Uhm, I mean no offense your majesty, but I don’t know your name,” you said swiftly, words stumbling over each other. You locked your gaze into his tie, not daring to look at him.

“Steve,” he said, you couldn’t find any bitterness in his voice and you raised your eyes. Amusement shining in his eyes, “can I make you a question?”

“Of course”

While you danced you made small talk, mostly you spoke of the different places both of you visited. Him in his trip around the kingdom and you to the different ports and cities you visited when they asked you to supervise a shipment.

The music stopped, pulling you both out of your little bubble. A man approached both of you and not so subtly, pushed you out of the way, so he could introduce his daughter to Steve. You made a quick curtsy and left. He wanted to go after you, it was the first decent talk he had with a lady, and he wanted to know you more.

However, the damage was done. He couldn’t leave without being rude to the man and the young lady, even when she had been catalogued as a –FF- the initials of Fawning Female, as Bucky decided to call them.

After dancing with the girl, that would not stop talking about how a good queen she would be, and how beautiful she would look dressed with the finest jewelry and finery. He excused himself and walked out of the room.

“It’s getting late,” Natasha said and approached him, “She’s in the enclosed balcony, I managed to keep her there for a moment”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Steve said and followed Natasha’s directions

“I deserve a raise,” she teased and stopped in the hall to give you and Steve some privacy.

Steve liked this part of the house, the wall of glass gave the perfect view of the lights of the city and in the morning he was able to see the ships navigate towards the port or to return home.

“Hey,” he said softly and you jumped at the sound of his voice, unaware of his presence until now.

“Steve, um, I mean, your highness”

“Steve is fine,” he said, trying to soothe your anxiety. He stood there, shifting his weight from leg to leg, feeling awkward and unsure. He knew you were waiting for him to say something, but he was nervous.

“I… um… do you want to have lunch with me tomorrow?” he clears his throat, and adds quickly, “only if you want. Um, it’s okay if you don’t want to. I just-”

“Yes” you said and smiled softly, stopping him before he started to ramble, “it’s getting late so…”

“Oh, yeah, you’re right. Good night.”

“Good night, Steve” you said and made a courtesy before you left.

"So very not smooth, Rogers" Bucky said, appearing next to him and watching you retreat to your room.

"Shut up, jerk" he mumbled, but he couldn’t stop the smile in his face.

The two weeks Steve was supposed to spend in Lord Stark’s mansion were gone in a blink of an eye. He managed to spend most of his time with you, even when you got some threats from the other ladies that wanted to seduce the king.

You found two allies in Natasha and James, they were nice to you and they kept you safe from any danger –or possible embarrassment- because of the jealousy of the girls. And you tried to keep your father far away from Steve. He only wanted power, so when he realized how smitten Steve was with you he tried to sneak into the restaurant you and Steve were having lunch to try and discuss a possible position in the court or lands in exchange of your hand.

But Steve’s guards never let him in, even when he screamed at them. Steve told you he didn’t care about the attitude of your father and he wouldn’t judge you because of him.

It was your last day in this country, Steve would stay here for another week before he had to return to the castle. You didn’t want to go, the moment felt like a dream, a sweet dream. So, when Steve suggested you to go for a walk on the beach, you agreed eagerly. It was late, the sky was clear, giving you a full view of the stars above.

“I want you to go back to the capital with me” Steve said softly, breaking the peaceful silence.

For a moment you only stared at Steve, not sure if he really said those words or the sound of the ocean waves crashing against the rocks made you imagine it.

“You…” you whispered before your voice died down. Him, offering this mean one thing, he chose you as his Queen.

“This is so rushed,” you said, “we barely know each other…” your heart was pounding in your chest, you were excited and fearful. Steve was a wonderful man, so kind and sweet.

“You are right,” Steve said, pulling your attention back to him. He raised a hand to cup your cheek, “there’s a lot that I don’t know about you. But the things I do know? Those are things worth loving, and reason enough to take a chance with you.”

You know he’s waiting for an answer. Saying yes would mean leaving your home and country to move to this one and rule it, that’s something you did not prepare for. But in the other hand, you would be with Steve and that was the only thing that mattered.

“Yes,” you breathed out and for a moment you thought he didn’t hear you, “I’ll go with you.”

His smile was so bright, a sigh of relief leaved his lips before he placed a soft kiss to your lips.

Chapter 1 - Masterlist - Chapter 3

#my writing #checkmate #angstforcaplan #steve x reader #royal!au #steve rogers #captain america #marvel

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