#also i sent this to my partner to beta read and they argued that actually being imprisoned in the batcave is peak romance

[forevercloudnine]

new 52 riddlebat ship meme

(@heroes-etc picked me out a lot of questions and we’re still going. This set is from this ship meme.)

1. Who makes the first move and how?

Ostensibly it would be Edward, if putting together a subtext-laden citywide scavenger hunt that threatens the lives of hundreds counts as “making the first move.” But there’s a limit to how much deliberately obfuscating any expression of your feelings can be considered making any move at all. He also doesn’t seem to really know what he wants from Bruce — in “Alone,” he’s quick to say that he designed the puzzles to lead Batman to him on purpose, but doesn’t have an answer when questioned on what he wanted Batman to do other than catch him.

So even though Edward is technically the instigator here, he places the burden of actually doing something entirely on Batman. Which is difficult, because Riddler’s increased brutality in the New 52 makes him like the last possible version of the character Bruce would choose to pursue. BUT Scott Snyder made Batjokes practically text in this continuity, so obviously New 52 Bruce does not have a problem getting overly emotionally involved with supervillains who have unrealistically large body counts. In fact, the brutality may work to Edward’s advantage here; if he caused enough damage, maybe Bruce would kidnap him and keep him in the Batcave the way it was revealed he was keeping the Joker in Dark Days: The Casting #1. 

What could be more romantic than being imprisoned in the batcave? Well, probably a lot of things, really. But in this case, having a lot of quality time together in which Riddler is not actively murdering anyone is probably the only way that these two could work out what they have going on between them. 

Edward could also earn his way down there by figuring out Batman’s identity, which he’s clearly pretty close to in Batman Annual #4. There’s only so much mental distance between “Bruce Wayne is obsessed with the death of his parents and his drive for justice and revenge has led him to bring Batman into existence, making him responsible for everything Batman has ever done” and “Bruce Wayne IS Batman,” especially when Bruce Wayne does things like climb museum exhibits to leave through the skylight or pull off a trickshot that ruins Riddler’s whole evil plan directly in front of Edward’s face.

And if he DID figure it out, New 52 Riddler would probably be less courteous about its secrecy than Joker is. (Not that Joker is THAT polite about it, given that he keeps trying to use the information to either kill Bruce’s whole family, or... I don’t know... whatever he did with Wayne Enterprises in Joker War. Wait, is THAT why Bruce was keeping Joker in the Batcave in Rebirth?) 

So just to review, I am *checks notes* arguing that Bruce would instigate a romantic relationship by kidnapping Edward and imprisoning him against his will. Yes, that sounds about right for DC’s current continuity.

6. Who would they ask if they ever had a threesome?

If Riddler DOESN’T know Batman’s secret identity, then he would want to have a threesome with Bruce Wayne. Batman Annual #4 suggests that he might have already been a bit obsessed with Bruce even before suspecting his involvement with Batman, given that he talks about how watching Bruce in the tabloids growing up was everyone’s “favorite tv show” and reminisces about learning a lot of information about Bruce’s life that way, including stuff that wouldn’t have made it to the news, like Bruce anonymously setting his teacher’s yard on fire as a teenager.

It’s actually almost a Batman Forever vibe, or it would be if New 52 Edward wasn’t so much less endearing. Is his childhood fascination with Bruce part of why he got a job working for Bruce’s uncle at Wayne Enterprises as an adult, or was that just a happy accident in his preparations for Zero Year? Either way, he’s clearly obsessed with Bruce now, and he’s definitely under the impression that Batman knows him well. So as long as he didn’t know they were the same person, he would probably try to arrange a ménage à trois (wouldn’t that be awkward).

If he DID know they were the same person, then unfortunately Edward would definitely try and instigate a threesome with Joker. I’m not saying it would work, I’m just saying that all of the War of Jokes and Riddles reads like Edward trying to insert himself in the middle of Batjokes and getting rejected by both of them repeatedly.

Joker wasn’t interested the first time Riddler came on to him (or the second time, literally in the same office, Edward please learn how to read a room), so he probably wouldn’t go for it if Edward tried again. But if The War and Jokes and Riddles demonstrated anything, it’s that Edward doesn’t know how to take a hint, so he’d probably try again regardless. And then blame Bruce when it doesn’t work, probably. I always thought it was dumb when Riddler hyped up the oh-so-horrible thing that Batman did to him in the War of Jokes and Riddles in Batman #19, only for it to turn out that Bruce just, like... almost stabbed him.... but didn’t. After Riddler had ALREADY betrayed him.

But it makes more sense that Edward is being such a dramatic bitch if you’re instead interpreting “I still remember what he did” as just a summary of the conga line of rejection that Riddler received over the course of that arc from both sides of Batjokes.

(TWOJAR as helpfully summarized by @heroes-etc​)

11. What do they hide from one another?

I don’t think they can really hide anything from each other, actually. I mean there’s the obvious “Batman is hiding his secret identity” and “Riddler is hiding evil scheme of the week #39.” But Bruce is the “World’s Greatest Detective” as per usual, and Edward is actually not that far behind him in this continuity (even if his delusions can cause him to project and misinterpret his findings, i.e. assuming that Bruce purposefully went bankrupt so that Riddler and the other Arkhamites would have to live in Wayne Manor and be reminded of him every second of every day). Batman Annual #4 has a great example of this where Edward reveals that he knows about how Bruce tried to treat his paranoid vigilante compulsions with shock therapy when he was a teenager. No one but Alfred and the doctors know about that — and I’m just assuming that Alfred knew, it’s not something that was stated in Zero Year.

Bruce obviously solves pretty much every riddle that Edward puts in front of him, but he picks up on the stuff that Riddler is purposefully trying to obscure too. Whether he was researching Edward ahead of time (likely) or just so good at snap psychoanalysis he should have a job at Arkham (possible, Zero Year was written by Scott Snyder), his summary of Edward’s life during their first interaction as Batman and Riddler in Batman #31 is clearly too accurate for Edward’s comfort, as it ruins what had previously been excitement on Riddler’s part that Batman was still alive. 

So good luck to both of them at hiding absolutely anything from each other. The best they can hope for is if WHEN the other person finds what they’ve been hiding, they misinterpret either the information or the reason why it was hidden from them in the first place. Both of them are always willing to jump to the worst case scenario (which, given who they’re dealing with, fair enough), so I’m sure the resulting miscommunication would be both extremely entertaining and highly likely to lead to city-wide destruction.

27. Why do their friends get annoyed with them?

Does New 52 Riddler even have friends? He and Scarecrow claim to have respect for each other in Detective Comics ft. Scarecrow #23.3, but it’s in the context of Scarecrow lying and manipulating all the rogues in the lead up to Forever Evil, and it comes about three panels after Riddler passive aggressively mocks Jonathan’s childhood trauma at the hands of his “daddy.” (Rude, Edward. Rude and gross.)

If they are friends, then the reasons why Riddler dating Scarecrow’s arch nemesis would annoy Jonathan are pretty self-explanatory. Also Edward is clearly the kind of person who would taunt the rest of the Arkhamites with any privileges earned/information gleaned from getting closer to the Bat. When I was younger my mother would always warn me not to waste emotional energy on girls who ditch their friends to prioritize their relationship as soon as they get a new boyfriend. Well, Riddler is that girl.

Bruce’s friends and family obviously also have nearly infinite reasons to be annoyed with Bruce for dating a supervillain (shoutout to Duke Thomas, who was unfortunate enough to have Riddler’s Zero Year during the most formative time of his childhood), but Barbara Gordon would doubtlessly be more pissed than most. Riddler deciding that he’s in love with Batgirl out of the blue (despite them never having met before?) when he finds out that Batman’s marrying Catwoman was already irritating, but I can only imagine how much MORE annoying it would be in the context of Riddler later hooking up with Batman.

If Barbara ever found out about them hooking up, she would immediately have war flashbacks to Batman: Prelude to the Wedding pt. 3. She has a great memory so unfortunately she probably has perfect recall of having to spend an entire evening listening to a pre-recorded monologue of Riddler philosophizing about why he’s not bitter that Batman and Catwoman are getting married and how he’s still straight even though he’s never felt lasting attraction to a woman. And then she would rightfully go apeshit.

29. Why do they fall a little bit more in love?

Thinking of how this question could possibly be answered from Bruce’s perspective made me laugh out loud, which is probably not a good sign given that I’m 4/5 of the way through writing a ship meme for him and Edward. But Riddler is just. So much in the New 52. Okay, I’m taking it seriously now. WHY DOES HE FALL MORE IN LOVE. Well, the fastest way to Bruce’s heart (other than being an attractive woman with dark hair, green eyes, and ambiguous morals) is to assist him in his crusade against crime. While that doesn’t initially seem like something Edward would do (as we see in Batgirl vs. Riddler, he seems to think the key to romance is “mixtapes”), he does go out of his way to give Bruce information about a Gotham-wide criminal conspiracy in Batman Eternal #39. He doesn’t appreciate that Batman’s current opponent is actively trying to wear him down — he wants to fight the Bat at his best, when he can think clearly. So he gives Bruce information he needs to solve the mystery.

Edward seems to also be under the impression that this would endear him to Batman, because he gives Batman a series of riddles that lead Bruce right to him so that they can talk in person. And then gets very surprised when Bruce subsequently arrests him. You’re still a criminal, Edward. This is like the first favor you’ve ever done him. Do it a dozen more times and then MAYBE you’ll start getting the free passes he’s been handing out to Harley and Ivy. But Bruce DOES save him from an avalanche after this, even though in the past Bruce has left him to die out of apathy (The War of Jokes and Riddles) or actively tried to kill him (also The War of Jokes and Riddles). So Edward IS winning him over, just very, very slowly.

Riddler pretty obviously just enjoys having someone to talk to that he feels is “on his level.” Even though he’s already arranged for Bruce Wayne’s assassination by the first time they meet in Batman #39, he obviously enjoys conversing with someone who can and will unravel his riddles and double meanings, to the point that afterwards he musingly wishes that they’d have an opportunity to talk again. Obviously they do, but it’s no thanks to Riddler. You can just NOT assassinate someone if you think they’re hot, Edward.

It’s what seemingly endears him to Batman too (at least, until Bruce ruins the mood by calling him an attention whore in front of all of Gotham). Though it’s basically always bad news for him, Edward clearly enjoys any time that Bruce or Batman exhibits his intelligence. 

[missgeniality]

Opaline Moon (m)

“The Moon can never breathe, but it can take our breath away with the beauty of its cold, arid orb.” - Munia Khan

➺ Banner: @hobiandsprite​ 💕

➺ Pairing: Seokjin x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Friends to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11.2k

➺ Summary: You are ingrained to love Jin, right upto the blood that courses through your veins. Confessing, however, is a whole other game. So it’s a good thing you’re bad at keeping your hands to yourself, because happenstance can handle the rest. 

➺ Warnings: talks about dance floor fucking, making out in the bar bathroom, fingering, pussy slapping, passing out drunk, daydreams about thigh riding, reader masturbates, they make out A LOT, neck kissing, a hickey, nipple play, some biting, cum eating (kind of, you’ll see), blowjob, protected sex!, reader and jin are corny, the hurt is real but the sex is real-er

➺ Author’s Note: My lovely, lovely moots - @taegularities​, @kithtaehyung​ and @baepsaetan​, thank you so much for betaing this and hyping it up, your comments made this fic a hundred times better! As I mentioned on the teaser, this fic took a lot out of me, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing the angst and will write more whenever the story aligns! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing, and I hope this lovable Jin reaches your heart! (ngl, in usual fashion, I will come back and edit it again, so if you see a spelling mistake, your eyes are lying to you) Do let me know what you think, your asks and comments make my day!

This is the second part of my Dress Down series, find more at it’s masterlist!

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Sweltering heat. Blaring traffic. Little to no sleep. Through all things wrong, one man’s thoughts wrapped around you like a cooling breeze, a shield to protect you from the vicissitudes of reality, to draw you back into all of him. Unfortunately, your reality may never see that day come to light.

Kim Seokjin.

Kim Seokjin, the man who cooked you up a greasy break-up meal at three in the morning with not a sight of discomfort, putting your needs above all.

Kim Seokjin, whose puns make you roll your eyes heavenward, half awed at how he manages to pull one out of his collection at a moment's notice, and half irked by the untimely laugh it brings out of you.

Kim Seokjin, the man who will never be yours, and you have no one to blame but yourself. 

One could argue that the miscommunication that had caused this present condition was two-way. If you had stopped him, corrected him, let him know the truth… you wouldn’t have to resort to the extreme measures you’re currently entangled in. One would also say, you are trying to redeem your mistake by trying too hard. Surely, everyone and their mothers could see through your ruse. 

This is the fourth time you’re visiting Jin for his BE shoot - a shoot taking place two hours away from the city, disguised under various layers of secrecy to prevent any leakage of the album concept, or Jin in general. Of course, you had been made privy to such exclusive information, because you and Jin were ‘best friends’. 

Best. Friends.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Best friends. The term you coined for (and forced upon) the bond you had. The bond that was too close to sprouting into something new, something fresh, something that was filled with glimmering allure and dragged you in like quicksand. But also, it reeked of commitment, of shadows, of newness that you hadn’t felt in the longest time, and fear of already being far too deep in without even taking the first step. 

The loud thrum of some internet kid’s new hit pulses through the air of the club as bundles of couples occupy the dance floor, laughing and gyrating to a song that, in your opinion, most definitely does not suit gyrating. But with enough of the weekend happy hours intake combined with hormone-riddled minds, one could very well throw it back to a church choir. 

You weave through the drunken bodies, trying not to spill the precariously held three drinks in your hands, making your way to your inner circle, the only people to blame for dragging you to this slosh-fest.

“Y/N!” 

Somehow Hoseok’s voice can echo across the club, but you didn’t even need his addressal because Jin’s laughter is loud enough to navigate anyone to your table. Seeing you struggle with the glasses (and mostly the crowd, with some of them living their exhibitionist dreams), Hoseok gets up to assist you.

“I swear, if I see one more couple pretending to be dancing as they rub one off of each other’s thighs, the black market will have my eyes.”

“Oh yeah?” Jin’s breathy voice interjects your black-market dreams, still bursting in short laughs from whatever sent him rolling before your arrival. “Why don’t you go join them?”

“And whose thigh is she taking, yours?” Yeji snorts out, one hand holding her nebula blue drink, the other wrapped around Hoseok, urging him to come closer. Jin’s features scrunch into a cringe, and you’re thankful for the dim lighting because the disappointment in your features does not reach them.

“The only action these leather pants are getting is in the damned laundromat,” he points to his shiny trousers, “some jerk dropped his drink on it.”

“You could be the first person to give some chick an orgasm and a yeast infection.” Hoseok giddily adds, his fifth shot clearly making a mess of his brain cells. 

Jin claps and gets up to move away from the group. “Better than a pregnancy!” he yells, before zigzagging through the crowd, possibly to the restroom. He is on his third cocktail, and you’d think cocktails are lighter drinks. But in this bar, their taps just seem to flow with tequila, and it is very evident in the way Jin is currently walking.

His absence hits you harder than you think, but it might be the alcohol talking. Jin has always been the mood-maker of the group, the one who brings everyone together. Of late though, his magnetic persona has been an irritant in your life. Any outing you two take, any chance you have to come clean about the burgeoning crush you have on him, is effectively disrupted by one of his posse. And today, Hoseok and Yeji took that trophy. 

“Earth to Y/N. Has the cocktail finally broken you?”

You flutter your eyes in a manic fashion, to disperse the daydream you were indulging yourself in, and bring your attention back to the couple calling for you. Surprisingly, they have stood up, Yeji emptying the last of her neon drink. 

“What happened?”

“We are going to the club nearby, they have better stuff. And that’s code for ‘they actually add water to the drink and the surround sound doesn’t shatter your ear drum’.’” 

She isn’t wrong. The cocktails and music here are a 19-year-old frat party dream, not something the working class can digest. But you’re tired at this point, and don’t want to be smothered by someone else’s love life when your own is down the dumps.

“You guys carry on! I’ll tell Jin where you are and he’ll meet you there!”

You watch as Hoseok and Yeji lead each other to the exit, hands circling their partner’s waist. They giggle on and on, about nothing and everything, and it only hardens the emptiness you feel inside you. 

Why can’t you gather the balls to spit your feelings out? What could possibly go wrong? Yes, you may lose one of your closest friends, but is this friendship really worth the agony? The bitterness you feel when you see any couple enjoying themselves? The anger you harbor whenever Jin tells you about his dates? The heartache, when he hugs you and tells you that you’re the best thing that’s happened to him… as a friend? Is it? Your plastered brain tells you to not make any rash decisions, so you don’t, instead choosing to get up and search for your best friend. 

The corridor leading to the washrooms is dimly lit, throwing a merlot filter over your eyesight, making you squint in search of your friend. You being shitfaced does not help, and while relishing in your floating wooziness, you see Jin come out, and feelings you’ve held at bay for so long slither through your currently porous defenses. 

He has always been good-looking. He himself has said so a dozen times.

But wow.

His hair lays messily atop his beautiful face, unkempt, like a breeze of beauty swept across his mighty looks and displaced every strand, causing disarray, but even the disarray only frames his superior looks and adds to its potent charm. The black, patchy sweater hanging loose off his broad shoulders makes you feel things you shouldn’t feel as a friend. That stupid gut of yours is currently screaming, yelling for all hands on deck, trying to block all the feelings from gushing in and sending you into overdrive.

By the time you can gather yourself to stop from giving in to those dangerous thoughts, Jin has crossed the distance between you, coming close, too close. Chocolate-brown eyes peer into your soul, searching for whichever fantasy you chose to lose yourself in. His eyes flit down to notice your rumpled dress that has found its way a couple of inches above its designated spot. His gaze returns to yours, but not without a newfound hardness, an almost steely glaze over the kindness that you usually find in the chocolate pools, accentuated under the garnet lighting. 

“Hey, umm…” You beg for a reprieve, from your thoughts, from your filthy mind, from the way he is eyeing your cleavage, or just for the burning between your legs. You’re about to make some serious mistakes, you can feel it down to your bone.

You’re far too overdressed. 

You knew it when you were in the process of getting dressed, but right now, you feel it much more - you look like a shiny disco ball orbiting amidst the plethora of loose tees, leggings and flannels. Everything screams comfort, because the amount of work they’re putting into this begs for it. 

The strappy lace sundress you wear is extremely out of place, the halter-neck tie behind your neck fastened a little looser than necessary, giving your breasts the exposure they deserve, a nice valley view. Your dress skirt, adorned with pretty frills and dainty flowers, cut across your thigh to frame your petite hips. You are one floppy sun hat away from an extravagant Greek cruise - and in the moment you wish you had one to hide your face in shame. 

You’re just out here, trying to escape the zone. 

“Oh, would you look at the time, it’s tits out Tuesday already?”

Your eyes roll before Sanghoon even finishes his sentence, because you wouldn’t expect anything else from him. On the team of the set design, he is carrying a whole drapery worth of plush, mauve curtains, struggling with the slipping fabric. But apparently not struggling enough to stop him from getting his nose into your business, it seems.

“Literally not even a time you just mentioned. Can’t get one thing right.” You can’t stop yourself from stretching a hand out to feel the curtain fabric, the satiny sheets begging to be touched. Before you can though, Sanghoon moves away, not allowing you to shift the focus of the conversation.

“Don’t steer away from the facts. Your tits.”

“That’s the fact?”

“They’re out.” He bucks up, trying to point with the hand stuffed underneath all the cloth. “That’s the fact.”

“Ugh, can’t a girl dress up once in a while?” The pointed attention makes you uncomfortable, because everything he’s insinuating is true. With every passing staff member, you count a new shade of grey, interspersed with occasional blacks and greens, a stark contrast to your floral overtones. Amidst the thousand footsteps taken in your vicinity, only yours are pointed heels, echoing across the studio with every clack. But you’re a stubborn one, refusing to give in to his totally valid argument. “I just woke up early.”

“Girl.” Like light through frosted glass, he sees through your bullshit, but only partially. “You put an alarm to dress up? I have nightmares of the boss brandishing her whip and telling me to get into position, and even that doesn’t wake me up.” 

“Have you ever considered… not announcing your kinks to everyone and their sisters?”

“Ehh,” he simply shrugs, “nothing is new when you’ve serenaded your boss drunk in a karaoke bar and still managed to keep your job. Wait. Is that highlighter?”

“Stop staring into my tits!” You can’t believe you got caught, but also, who can you blame? After testing this outfit out from the crack of dawn, you decided your cleavage needed some extra help. Three YouTube tutorials and one TikTok lady - who make it look far easier than it is - down, the contouring brought out the swell of your breasts, and against the light fabric of your dress, it does look too good to be true.

Memories of that night in the bar come in billows and waves, of how enamored Jin was with the way your boobs looked at that time. Even under the dingy lighting, in the cramped space, under heavily inebriated scrutiny, you couldn’t miss the flicker of heat in his gaze every time it passed your chest. 

One thing led to another, and it was a cascade none of you could stop. The heat of attraction between you two does not help your wandering mind, and the fever drowns the knowledge that what you’re feeling is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, crossing some lines that can never be mended back again. With the proximity, his musky scent invades whatever defenses you were trying to patch, piercing through all your inhibitions and you pull him into you, claiming his lips to be yours. 

With his wobbly knees and your wobbly heels, you somehow find your way to the washroom - mostly he does, you give in halfway to wrap your legs around his lean waist, his sturdy legs balancing your weight on them as your back hits the wall, and his lips tear down your walls. 

“You look so fucking sexy today,” between bated breaths and indulgent sighs you confess, “just driving me nuts.” Letting your hands drag along his abdomen, feeling the ups and downs of his abs, you attempt to rid him of the sweater that’s been on your hit list all night. But to your dismay, your endeavor is blocked, when Jin gathers your wrists in his palm, turning you around to bend you over on the countertop, the smooth marble chill hitting your braless chest, perking your nipples under the cold. 

“And you?” Jin bends to give your earlobe a languid lick, progressing very slow, a complete contrast to the movement of his hips as he ruts against your ass, your already short dress bunching up with every move. “You think it’s smart to have your tits torment me like this?” Grabbing a handful from behind, he tests the weight of each fleshy mound, and by now you are certain your perked nubs can pierce his palm. 

His free hand, not yet torturing you, decides to get in on the action and disappears under the counter, swiftly crossing the bunched fabric of your dress, gaining easy access to your pussy. The cold touch of his pads sears against the heat of your core, finding your pleasure button and languidly fiddling with it, with no intention to cross you over the brink in sight. The only pleasure you can indulge in is the reflection of him abusing your nipples, pinching and tugging them down, whispering filthy words into your ear as he takes in your fucked out countenance. 

You feel lacking, weak hands balancing your dizzy self, finding purchase to keep you upright - but you’re both drunk on alcohol and hypnotized by his beauty to do much more than stare at his mirrored counterpart. “For fuck’s sake, kiss me.” 

How he understood your slurred words, you don’t know, but you are glad he did. In a moment you’ve been displaced, the hurried motion sending your neurons into a flurry. Once your back meets the hard marble, and your eyes have the privilege to see his, you pull him in closer, the force enough to hold you against the wall while your legs wrap around his lean waist. 

Originally not a fan of drunken misadventures, that side of yours is strangely mute to the going current onslaught. Well, you don’t have much breath left to say anything, because Jin is efficiently stealing it all, his teeth clashing with yours as you engage in the messiest kiss ever known to mankind (or at least, to you). He changes pace often, dragging his tongue leisurely against your lower lip, conveying tacit words, just to switch it up with a sharp bite and reel you in. 

One corner of your senses can feel his fingers messing around your cunt, and playing with the wetness your thong can barely contain. It makes you shudder, the damage that his fingers can cause solely circling around your hole. 

“Fuck me.” 

In your drunken stupor, you don’t know if the words leave you right, but you get confirmation when his long fingers finally penetrate your cunt, giving your walls something to clench on - although nothing could possibly compare to what you imagine you can get from his dick.

“God, you feel that grip,” he grunts, with two of his fingers in you, and Jin’s smile is the most sinister you’ve ever seen. “I think we should take this home,” is what his lips utter, but his fingers delve deeper, searching for the spot that crumbles you. The base of his palm grinds against your throbbing clit, and you are forced to bite down on this sweater, lest an embarrassingly loud moan escapes you and cues outsiders into your filthy doings. 

“Now,” you half-hiss, half-growl as you grab the cusp of his legs to feel his half-hard erection grow under the pressure of your hand. Your palm sliters up just to go down again, this time without the blockade of his pants, but you are stopped short of success when Jin’s fingers slip out of you to give you a sharp swat. 

“Stubborn, aren’t we? Can’t fucking wait,” he whispers into your ear, and as he envelops your lobe with his cushiony lips, he continues, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

No, no, no. 

Your brain rejects logic, chews and spits it out before any of the rationale seeps into you. You have wanted this for far too long. The need inside you for a meaningful relationship materializes in the form of recklessness, desperately looking for surface-level relief for the moment. A night of sewing sutures to your battle-worn heart, stitches that may come off at the slightest strain - but right now, that will do. 

“Please, Jin,” your tantalizing tone riles up his cock again, eagerly waiting for your next words, “can’t you feel me dripping? Come on, I can take you.”

“Fuck, hear that wetness.” He lets his palm slap against your sopping entrance, not stopping with one. With every slap, droplets of your arousal splash out, the insides of your thighs coated in the sticky sweetness, but your body is an endless reservoir producing plentiful more for Jin to play with. “Have you been sitting with this all this time?”

Two long fingers invade your channel again, leaving you with no response other than a gasp. They scissor incessantly, preparing you for what could be the railing of your lifetime. One curl inside and his fingertips hit the spot he was looking for, making you warp your body to take the pleasure coursing through your veins. His tongue seems to mimic the actions, looping around your earlobe as he sucks it inside, both ends of your body engulfed in all the attention he could provide. 

Your cunt is weeping against the assault of this man’s hands, tears of your cum flowing down your legs with every pump of his arm. You are getting there, the sweet swell of release inching closer and closer.

But something doesn’t feel right.

The tightness in your belly, that is to a point caused by Jin, is harboring other sensations that are not entirely pleasant. Maybe you’re anxious about the happenings. Maybe you haven’t had a good orgasm in a while and have just forgotten how this thing works.

Or maybe, the bar should have the water tap actually give out water.

Either your eyes close, or your brain does, but suddenly all you can see is darkness.

 Again, you are just trying to escape the zone.

“Step under those studio lights,” pointing at the too-bright stage lights being set up at the moment, Sanghoon continues, breaking your daydream, “I bet you could signal to aliens with the booby-reflection. Call them to Netflix and chill.”

“In about five seconds, my heel will be puncturing your eye. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” 

Sanghoon’s drivel was cut short, and so were your murder plans, with his entry. “Oh look, he’s on set. Gotta go!” 

It’s like the lights, earlier threatening to burn away your skin, dim down in reverence of the glow of his face. The twinkle of his eyes when they meet yours. The shine of his smile when he throws you one. The vibrance of his tone when he calls out your name. Everything he does now threatens to burn you whole and it’s a wonder you’re not scalding, but the singe hurts you deep inside.

“Y/N! How do I look?” It’s a bathrobe. Like satin, or silk. Fucking hell, your brain could explode with the adjectives coming up, a whole chunk of them very much inappropriate to utter out in the current scene. Your arms want to rise, engulf him into you, and you have to physically halt the muscles from doing anything stupid. Brain, quick! Say something snarky and spicy, as best friends do!

“What’s the theme, unicorn puke?” The safest way to deflect is to attack. So you do just that. “You look like you dressed out of Hannah Montana’s closet. Which if it's true, I really need to see it. There’s a top that I’ve been eyeing for decades!”

“Don’t say decades.” Jin’s eyes crinkle in humor. “Makes me feel so old. Your dress is pretty cool too!” 

Cool.

You find out how difficult life can be when you count every single minute of yours. So far, you have counted 4,310 minutes. That is two days, twenty-three hours, and fifty minutes. Ten more minutes and it will be three whole days since you and Jin spoke. 

Yet again, you can’t blame him. When you came to the next day, you were in your bed, clad in the same shimmering silver bodycon that you had donned last night. The same one that had been privy to the colorful deeds you had committed in what was a dreary, colorless setting. 

One ibuProfen and ginger ale, downed with some severe recollections of the previous night, and you had been ready to throw it all up again. 

I don’t want to hurt you.

Words couldn’t describe what you were going through, and numbers weren’t invented to count the endless thoughts racing in your brain. You don’t know what is more upsetting. The fact that you actually had a chance to open your heart and you totally let your pussy think instead? Or that he was the one coherent enough to stop you from getting too far, and you let your desperation get the best of you? Everything about that night was wrong. And all the wrongs lie on your side. 

I don’t want to hurt you.

In the moment, it was physical, he had to have meant that. But there was a tremor in his voice, you can remember clear as day, a slightly shaken side of him had emerged through the intoxication, and the words he had breathed were not shallow. There was a gravity to them, that you’d stupidly ignored in the heat of the moment.

And now, here you are. Counting up till the last minute, after which you can effectively call the friendship ruined. Stirring your tea mindlessly, you try to focus on the show on TV, the variety show comedy not striking the usual funny bones that they could 4,311 minutes ago. 

The programmed ding of your phone bursts your thought bubble, a sound you have missed the past 72 hours. The ring you dedicated to Jin, that always had you running to receive because anything he sends brightens your day. But unlike those happier times, this ring has your gut fall into a pit of despair, struggling to choose between dispersing the suspense or remaining blissfully unaware of the damage you caused.

Jin: Free tmrw? We could grab coffee Jin: And talk

Talk. How? You barely remember what went down, save for fleeting moments that you recollected with great difficulty. Your fingers type back, trying to mimic the nonchalance in his text, that is very much absent in your actual demeanor.

Y/N: Sure. Paik’s at 1? Jin: Yup. See ya

Three texts, zero laughs. Of course, you’re not expecting him to land his jokes in this situation, even someone as talented as he can’t flip this tension. You’re just going to have to wait for tomorrow, when he decides whether you have a place in his life or not. 

The painstakingly worn outfit, accessorizing the whole look, the straps of your heels digging into your toes, the specks of makeup dust lying stale on your collar bones, the shine faints at that word. Cool. A perfectly normal phrase for a normal friendship. You are left maimed, while he absent-mindedly tends to the rope of his robe, blissfully unaware of the cyclonic emotions churning inside you. All you can possibly do is gulp it down. 

He runs his hands through his hair, beautiful locks coming out of place, and from one corner of the set, a groan of anguish emerges. 

“Oppa! Don’t play with your hair and face.” A masked lady runs forward waving combs that look like artillery, “We just got done setting it!”

Some finger guns, a happy apology, and some silly jokes later, all the stylists merrily round up to undo his doing, and Jin signals to you to catch up later. And as he walks away, the strings tugging at your heart reappear, as they do every time you come to meet him.

You have a masochistic streak in you, putting yourself through this every day, when he had made it clear, that you two never stood a chance. 

As if things aren’t already difficult, he looks like a dream. 

Soft, snowy skin gleaming like it has personal lighting wherever it goes, you get flashes of the rarely witnessed sweat on his skin, from the ferocity of last night. He’s blowing away the foam of his cappuccino, and tiny bubbles float into the air before falling flat on the table, like an animated shine that follows him along. God has His favorites, and God makes sure all the lighting in the world is perfect for these favorites. 

In no hurry, you wait at the counter to get your latte. After receiving it though, you can’t linger any longer and drag yourself to the table of doom.

“Hey.”

If the rasp in your voice is evident, he doesn’t show any recognition on his face. But you’ve learned to never trust an acting major. 

“Hi. How are you doing?”

Inadvertently, a snicker escapes your lips. “Are you interviewing me for a job?” you joke, trying to disperse the heavy air, filled with unspoken words. “If so, at least know that I’m very expensive.”

The familiar windshield wiper laugh does not greet you. Dead silence does. The half-smirk he painfully gives you is heavy, and the furrowed brows haven’t an inkling of joy. It shoots daggers in your heart, to know that you are the reason for this jolly man’s despondency. 

“Listen, I don’t think we should skirt around the issue too much. It happened, these things happen. You think Hoseok and Yeji didn’t have sex before making it official?”

His matter-of-fact nature isn’t new to you. Jin has always been a very practical man. Regardless of his inane sense of humor, his logical point of view has always been flawless. 

But right now, at this very moment, logic isn’t what you are looking for. You are looking for answers, but as far withdrawn from logic as possible, to take the edge off of the tension-laden air that surrounds your table.

“Yeah, but even… unofficially… we aren’t a thing, right?” 

Your abrupt question takes Jin unaware, almond eyes widening, like a toddler caught in an act. 

“No, no! Of course not! I would never!” 

His confession slips out with an ease that hurts you, digs deep to carve out the part of you that dreamt of anything more. Your eyes fall to your knees to avoid his perceptive gaze, the sting clear as the sky on a summer day. 

You force a smile and continue. “Then there’s no issue. Anyway,” you gulp your coffee down, burning your throat, but it's a distraction from the burning inside, “I need to get to work. Anything else?”

He’s still searching you, for what, you can’t possibly fathom. From the looks of it, he should be happy with this homeostasis; he doesn’t even know what this means for you. To still stay suspended in limbo, not being able to move up or down, to continue having thorns digging into your beating soul as you watch him like nothing bothers your already frail feelings. Scene by scene, you can visualize the future, him distancing himself from you as he finds the one he calls his, with you left in the shadows. Your knees tremble in fear of the impending future.

Seeing you in a tizzy, he calls out, the voice too loud for the cafe and your mind’s prison cage. 

“We’re still best friends, right?” If you knew better, you’d say his expression is that of sadness, of regret. But your judgment is clouded with your own bothers, and you interpret it as a look of pity. Like a lovesick puppy, kicked to the streets, with nowhere to call home. 

“Yeah! Always.” You give it as much enthusiasm as you can muster. 

Best friends.

Ropes wind around your heart, tugging and causing the deep ache that sets in as you walk back into your dreary building. Each string pulls you into a different dimension where you could move on, where you could be okay with the setting you had just agreed to. Where you would keep up your end of the promise and truly remain friends with him.

But no matter how strong the tug, your heart never yields, never lets go of the castle of dreams you built, staying steadfast in its own misery, choosing to hope, choosing to live the life of unrequited love.

“And that’s a wrap! Good job everyone!”

Applause and hurrays echo across the set to bring you back to the present. The shoot has officially concluded, which means it's time for your most favorite and least favorite part of the day - Jin and you doing best friend things, like grabbing lunch, gossiping about obnoxious coworkers, threatening to disembowel each other (in Mortal Kombat, of course) and other friendly activities. 

Ever so respectful, Jin takes his time thanking every member of the set, regardless of whether they moved a cushion or held the reflector screen for hours. All the women gush over his beauty, reminding him of how, even amidst the glowing ornaments, his face was the brightest. His responses vary, from quiet little giggles, to complimenting the crew for making it happen, to straight up owning his charisma like a boss. That’s your man. 

Well, not quite. Not one bit.

After exhausting the handshakes and hugs to be received, Jin walks to you, hands pushing his robe back to give it a cape like effect. You’re just glad that the man’s child persona still stays with him, no matter the situation.  He guides you to his green room, cracking his bones on the way, (very sexily, might you add).

“Holding a pose for that long gives me cramps! You’d think dancing breaks my back, and you’d be wrong.”

You’re desperately avoiding looking at his fingers, and keep your eyes below them - shoot! His ceaseless stretching gives you a glimpse under his shirt - it is dragging your memories back to the last time you saw them, and you’d rather not. It is hurting you in more ways than one. 

Eye contact is your safest bet. Looking up, you give him a lopsided grin. “Your grandfatherly days are approaching, Jinnie.” 

“Hey!” 

The rest of the conversation was less speaking, more yelling and chasing after each other to the green room, Jin taking mock-offence at your jab at his age, and his fingers reaching out to flick your forehead in retort. In your noisy, messy fashion, you both finally enter the room, dim gold light bulbs and shiny mirrors meeting your huffing self. 

One hand on your knee, you hold on to Jin’s arm with your other, gasping for breath. 

“Your grandmotherly days are already here, Y/N,” he snorts, and earns a kick on the shin, but that doesn’t stop him from bursting into snickers.

“Wow, why does one man need 4 mirrors?” You gape at his current green room, mouth wide open. It looks better than your entire apartment, with the counter carrying top-of-the-line makeup products. Only the best for this man. “So you can admire yourself from 4 different angles?”

Jin has disappeared into one of the inner rooms, but you can hear him snort at your comment. “Come on, I’m not that conceited. When the whole crew shoots together, the extra mirrors help.” The last part of that sentence is muffled, and that cues you into an important fact. 

Jin is currently changing into something more comfortable.

A process that includes him getting naked.

Well maybe he doesn’t get fully naked, top on, top off, bottom on, bottom of-

Still. You’re sweating like a whore in church. 

And things only get tougher when he finally comes out. 

The ocean blue sweater he dons is tucked in. Who tucks in sweaters? Kim Seokjin. Why does he tuck sweaters? Oh, because he’s got an amazing waistline that he should most definitely show off, and the heat between your thighs becoming increasingly potent is a testament to that. You pretend to adjust your heels, giving the right expressions to show you’re in pain, but in actuality you are bringing your legs closer to get you some relief, just any relief. 

Ripped jeans too. You get a peek of the thighs you were denied access to the night of the fuckening. Ridged and beautiful, not a speck in sight to mar his perfection. You are glad the facial expressions for pain and pleasure are not far apart, because your thighs, albeit very lacking, are helping the imagery in your head. Just Jin, seated on one of these leather chairs, and you straddling his thigh, clit aching against the strands of the rips in his denim, the fabric soaking up the wetness, with every push forwa-

“Now that you mention it, I do look dashing.”

And there goes that dream. 

You pinch his cheeks in adoration, the vulgarity of your thoughts getting whitewashed by his silliness and blooming heart-shaped flowers in their stance. You feel your own pinch in you, wondering if this scene would be the same had you blurted your feelings out that day at the cafe.

It's times like these when you remind yourself why you choose to quieten that side. This dynamic cannot reincarnate in any other form. Any imbalance to this equilibrium could cause a serious case of best-friends-turn-awkward-acquaintances, and you don’t know if that’ll hurt you more than you currently do. You don’t plan on finding out.

But on God, he tests that resolution every single day.

Jin doesn’t even hint that he knows of the turmoil blasting behind your eyes. He nonchalantly fixes his hair, gives you a one-over as you are mentally undressing him, nonchalantly as well. Then he moves to grab his cologne, and two spurts disintegrates all the whitewashing and takes you back into the obscenities you were unfolding. 

“So I’ll just go over the shoot photos, and then we can leave! You’re cool waiting here?”

“Hmmn, yeah!” You don’t let your mouth run any longer, fearing what might slip out. 

He gives you a wide, innocent smile. “Great! See you in a bit.” Poor guy. If only he knew how debase plans you were conjuring just from the aroma of his cologne. 

It is musky, like cedar or pine, perfectly suiting him. It is the same scent you remember inhaling, face stuffed in his sweater when he was fingering you to the tenth circle of hell. As he walks away, the fragrance diminishes, save for the slightest hint of lingering. You search for the source, and find the culprit strewn across the sofa.

The outfit Jin wore for the shoot held remnants of the perfume, and when you bring the shirt close and take a long, deep whiff, you transport yourself to the land of your dreams. You relish the fever smell of his cologne, mixed with his own natural scent, deciding that this is what you wish to smell like every waking morning.

Your longing for him has crossed way beyond physical boundaries. You longed for his love, longed for his attention. Longed to be the one that brings the light to his face. From morning rays to the darkness of the night, you wanted to experience it all by his side. To be his lone star, shining bright beside the moon. 

Your hands are moving without your control, disrobing you of your thirst trap of a dress and putting on Jin’s shirt instead. One look at the mirror and you let out a silent groan - it fits you just right. Just enough to cover your ass cheeks, loose enough to let the air conditioning hit your heated pussy. While well-fitting shirts have never been the cornerstone of a successful relationship, your delusional mind takes whatever wins it gets.

Adding layers to your pipe dream, you don the robe that gave you a tough time throughout the shoot. When you press the tails of the robe to your cheek, the softness of the material is soothing. Soft, like Jin’s eyes, like his hugs, like his smile. Like him.

Leaning against the counter, you steady yourself, mind split in titillation. Your fingers find their own path, drawing circles on your breasts over his shirt, imagining Jin’s long fingers in place. While teasing your nipple to pointed peaks, you slip your other hand under your panties, trying very hard to mimic his digits, twiddling your clit between your fingers. Alas, the effect isn’t achievable, because Jin seems to know how to play you better than yourself. 

The scent is getting stronger, without any provoking, and it is doing wonders for your immersion. You let out a loud moan when your fingers press inside, and you’re just glad no one can witness this.

“Y-Y/N?”

Fuck.

You are pulled away from your dreamland that was so impenetrable that you didn’t hear Jin step into the room. All the blood gushing to your nether regions has made a U-turn to flood your brain to think of a plausible explanation for this position. Instead it makes you giddy, and when you try to stand you wobble in your heels, to be rescued by what you think is a very scandalized Jin. 

Time stands still when your eyes meet, and what you see are blown out pupils trembling, many questions fluttering between you two. Jin crosses a tenth of the distance between you, lips flutter as they try to make a decision - do they want to part and give way to the voice of question? The voice of reason? The voice that will break this hush, burst this bubble where he has the one chance to give in to his longing?

You bring your lips closer, and cause immense disquiet in his dome, the way of his heart gathering speed against rationale. Your eyes dance between matching his gaze and finding his lips, every fraction of an inch you cross sending tremors through you. You can feel the shockwaves traverse through your body, making a pitstop at your lips, tingling them awake. They move downwards, passing your heart, beating it wildly against its cage, and then to the pit of your stomach to tighten in anticipation; finally reaching the tip of your toes, where you stand right now, a nanoscopic distance between you. Each one of you is afraid to cross the bridge, unaware of the other’s desires. 

Finally, Jin acqueises and meets you on your side. 

Atomic explosions ring through your head, clearing out every single thought that is not about Jin’s lips on yours. The ropes that held your heart from beating to the tune of your want, they’ve loosened their knots to give you the leeway to love freely. As your lips exchange positions, his teeth lightly drag across your plush petal, and it brings back the most important part of that night that you couldn’t recollect - the one where his lips sang wordless songs of adoration against yours. Blind as a bat, you were.

You dig your fingers into his hair, not minding your residual arousal coating his locks, and you feel his hands doing the same to you. With your eyes closed, you feel a rough edge to his cushiony soft lips, but Jin fixes that mistake - one stray strand of hair trapped in the middle of your indulgence - he pulls it away to give you all of the kiss. The hand tucked in your tresses pushes in, silently demanding more access, and you’re nothing but ready to give it.  

His tongue sneaks in to play a game with yours - when you seek it, it goes into hiding, finding perfect pleasure in soft, sweet kisses, but when you stay, it comes back in, awakening your tongue to deepen again. Everything he is doing is too much and not enough in one go, and you whine into his mouth in desperation, seeking some well-earned relief after months of holding back.

Amidst the flurry of your lips, your back hits the vanity countertop, and Jin pushes away everything on top to make space for you, not caring what expensive item flies down the counter to accommodate your ass.

As if you’ve made up for the months of holding back, the softness of the kisses erodes, teeth coming into play more and more, reminiscent of the night that went by in a blur. He swallows every mewl you give in return, blissed out beyond repair, your neediness making his cock strain against the denim. 

His hand snakes down, spreading his fingers to get a hold of your back to push you towards him, covering any gap that dared to intervene. Now unworried about the shoot, your hands have effectively ruined his perfectly placed locks and messed them up to resemble the craze he let you spin in.

Before he can glide his tongue back in, you break the kiss, lest you lose yourself in it to the point where you forget to breathe. With attached foreheads, you take deep drags of air, letting the oxygen flow to your brain before you make some ill-advised, unclarified decisions.

“I- I was jus-”

“Shhh. Wait,” he breathes out, wanting to take a second and fully savor the moment. You nod in return, making his head move along with yours.

After sufficient air fills his lungs, Jin starts. “Y/N, we should stop.”

Last time this had happened, you had tried to force your way through his barrier, without giving his feelings a second of consideration. So this time, you don’t repeat your mistakes. “Tell me why.”

“Because, I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I’m way deeper in this than you think.”

“Jin, I-”

“Let me finish.” He stops you before you can explain how much you reflect his emotions, possibly more. He doesn’t seem to want to listen now. “Let me finish, or else I’ll chicken out, for the millionth time.”

You’re dumbfounded. Millionth time? When was the first? Acting majors, by God. 

“I love you, Y/N.”

No, now you are dumbfounded. Your hands, holding his precious locks, drop down in shock, at sheer disbelief that all this time, he has been ready and waiting to return you the favor. Jin though, misinterprets it as a look of disdain. 

“I-I know I do, and I’m sorry that I do. I know you don’t feel the same way. You can hate me all you want, but this is the truth.”

“And yes,” he continues, refusing to halt for even half a second, afraid that the courage he mustered to confess would dissipate the moment he does, “I’m attracted to you, and I don’t know what went down here --” flicking his wrist to mention your (his) outfit, “--but I’m looking, okay? And I’m hard as fuck. But that’s not all there is to it.”

“I need all of you.” He takes an audible gulp, trying to stymy his emotions from overpowering him. “I want to take you out, I want to hold you hand, I want to bring you to all the places I love. I want to introduce you to people, not as my best friend, but so much more than that. It hurts me,” bringing his hand to his chest, he emphasizes the point of pain by clutching over his heart, “hurts to call you that because I’m lying through my fucking teeth.”

You break eye contact, because there are tears smarting your eyes at his heartfelt revelation. You can’t believe the idiot that you have been all this while. The man of your dreams stands in front of you, baring his soul, and you can’t even do him the decency of telling him what you felt yourself before jumping his bones.

And you love him, too. Maybe you haven’t said so, even to yourself, but you’ve known all this while.

You love him.

“If you are just looking for a fuck, or want any sort of a ‘benefits’ situation, we should stop. I can’t lie to myself anymore.”

“Jin, my God,” you half-sigh, half-laugh, feeling a burden lift off of you after months of pining.

“You don’t have to pacify me, it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” Even in this moment, he is looking out for you. His lips are curved upward to show you that he’s okay, but his pupils are shaky and restless, not in sync with his smile. You hope your next words can fix that for him.

“Pacify you? Hate you?” You shoot him an incredulous look, one you will explain to him very soon. “You are a much better person than I am, Jinnie. For months now, I’ve loved you, but even at this point, I didn’t stop to tell you.” The guilt of letting your hormones cloud your judgement for the second time lays heavily on your conscience. “I’m sorry for not making this clear earlier, but let me now. I love you, Kim Seokjin. I have for way too long. I want you, I need you. You have me, in every possible way.”

It feels unparalleled to get that off your chest. The leaden weight of your emotions immediately disappears - or the fact that it's shared, makes it much, much lighter. But then you look at Jin, and he still seems to have not put two and two together. You patiently wait for him to process all the information. 

When he finally recoups, he yells, “What?!”

You let out a loud guffaw, the first one with no inhibitions in the longest time. “What?”

“Why didn’t you say anything that day at the cafe?!” 

“You said you’d never date me, asshole!” You punch his chest softly, before slipping your hands behind him and pulling him closer. “I might not look like it, but I have some dignity.”

“I said that?” Jin brings one hand to pinch his nose in annoyance. “What an idiot. I think I was just inverting everything to make sure I don’t accidentally slip up.”

You lift your head to meet his eyes again, letting him see the tears you were hiding. You find a couple in his eyes, too. But the smile on your face is genuine, and that is all that matters. “I was blind too, so don’t beat yourself up about it.” 

Flitting your eyes down to find the contour of his cock against his jeans, you ask him innocently, “How about we make up for lost time?”

“Fuck, yes, please.” And with that, your lips are engulfed again.

When you have all your guards down, the kiss tastes sweeter than before. Mere moments ago, while thoroughly enjoying the kiss, a sense of reticence had clouded your pleasure, holding you back from luxuriating in the headiness. A series of what-ifs had plagued your subconscious without your realization, but with all that cleared, you wholly submit to the kiss, emptying your mind until nothing but his name remains.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Jin gasps out, when you bite into his pillowy lower lip, “I thought you looked the prettiest in the dress earlier but,” after pulling away, he drinks your current attire in, “you look the most beautiful in this.”

You snicker. “Even more than World Wide Handsome?”

His eyes bore into yours, no hint of the joking lilt he always carries in them. 

“So much more.”

Your hands find their place amidst his shaggy hair again, and you lodge his face into your neck - a command Jin acquiesces to with great pleasure. After a long, wet lick to your collarbone, he lays feather-soft kisses on the trail he left, starting from your shoulder and working inward, until he brushes against the back of your ear. You grasp at his sweater, because his lips feel so good. Your breaths are short, sucking in every time he allows your skin the luxury of a soft peck.  Once he lays a kiss on your forehead, he brings his gaze down to one of the main reasons that causes his cock to stir.

“Fuck, look at your nipples under my shirt.”

Gazing down, you can see the two pointed peaks that caught Jin’s eyes. 

“That tends to happen when I’m thinking of you.” 

He twists a nipple over the shirt, hardening it further, and you throw your head back in the satisfying pain. “Yeah, I remember.”

You are unraveling every second, the ache swishing amongst the bliss his fingers are bringing in you. He’s switched over to drawing circles around your nipple, until he snaps and tugs your shirt up, finally revealing the palmfulls of flesh awaiting his hands. 

“Ah that night, I didn’t get to do this. Take this off.” But then, he makes you put on his robe again. You throw him a questioning look, to which he responds with a sheepish smile, “Just so, you know… you don’t feel cold… or something.”

“Just say you like me in your clothes and move on.”

“I love you in my clothes,” he admits in a heartbeat, his expression that of anguish, “can we move on?”

“God, gladly.”

Unexpectedly, he bites the side of your boob - not hard at all, but feeling his teeth against your skin sends your head reeling backward. Your involuntary response is to wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your core against him. His teeth continue to nip you lightly across the expanse of your breasts, the trail of saliva he leaves cooling parts of your flushed body. Finally, finally, he latches onto your left nipple and gives it a long, pleasurable suck.

“Ahh, Jin - you’re too - God damn it - you’re too good at this.” 

Without stopping the onslaught he is unleashing on your breasts, his fingers begin to move - but soon, they stop, hesitation rippling off of their tips. His pace falters, and his mind is fighting on the next course of action.

“Can I-”

“Finish what you started that night?” you complete for him, already prepared with your answer. “Yes, please.”

All forms of uncertainty shoot out of his touch, and he confidently trudges forward. Playing with the band of your panties, he gives you a well-intended chuckle, murmuring, “As far as I remember, I was so good you passed out.”

“Boy,” You groan, intended in jest, but his teeth slide against your jaw and it mostly comes out more wanton than jovial, “let me see you have tequila for dinner and remember much the next day.”

“Fair fair,” he gives in, shifting to buss the valley of your cleavage, feeling your heart thud against your ribs holding it in place. “Well today,” he starts without moving his face, his nimble fingers moving past the barrier of your underwear, pressing two fingertips directly on your clit, and hissing like it's him at the receiving end, “I’ll give you enough to remember.”

You pull his sweater off and chuck it away, not wanting to be reminded of any blockades that kept you apart, and your hands roam the expanse of his back remembering the touch of his skin from the night at the bar. His body isn’t new to you, but the circumstances make it feel different. 

Finally, his fingers find their way inside you. 

Yes, this. This was what was missing from your drunken tryst. With your heads in place, your ardor intensifies, and you move his lips back to yours needing to release your animalistic desire into his mouth. Pleasure surges through both of you as you threaten to swallow him whole.

You can feel him being more present, and considering the merciless finger-fucking you had earned that night, this is taking it to a whole other degree. 

The night at the bar, his fingers did their best to ravish you, but now, Jin is paying attention, close attention to the way you respond. Every muscle movement is recorded in him as you struggle to accommodate three of his lengthy digits. Leaning close, he gives your peaked nipple the lightest feather lick - the suddenness sends shockwaves through you as he continues to tweeze the other, talented pianist hands performing his musical piece on both ends of you.

His fingers pump into you with determination, finding new depths to explore that he missed out on, and with a curl of his pointer, you blank out, screaming in the orgasm that is washing over you. Every skincell of your body feels the quiver of lust spreading, your cunt squeezing for an eternity, milking the orgasm out to the extent that you can. 

When you look down, your metaphorical orgasmic flood manifestes as a deluge of your arousal leaking on the table. And when you look back up, you can see the salacious ideas making their rounds in Jin’s head as he looks at the inundation you released. 

Hurried hands still convulsing from the intensity of your orgasm, you undo his belt, followed by his jeans and finally - getting the pleasure you were heartlessly denied of - his cock is out, in all its glory, twitching as the cool air hits its naked skin. Jin’s plans don’t go hand in hand with yours though.

“Are we just - holy fucking shit - just, umm, leave that to waste?” he lustfully looks down to your leaking core, and someway, through your hold on his dick, he tries to steer you into his plans.

“I don’t know about that,” you cheekily reply. You have the right idea to satisfy both of you, and get down to the task.

With the flat of your palm, you swipe across the droplets of cum you released, gathering them to transfer them onto his thick length. Jin thrusts into your hand, the wetness jolting him into attention, and he places an arm on your shoulder to steady himself. 

“You’re going to taste yourself?” he asks as you continue your vacillating motion, twisting at the base of his head with the wetness you graciously provided yourself. You give him a nonchalant look, something he is trying to do to you as well. 

“Who said I’m gonna suck you off?”

His look changes, and the one you get in return is cocky, arrogant, downright rude if you were honest. You expected him to play on with your banter, but one raised eyebrow and the lazy smirk he gives, to what he probably thinks is a joke - Zeus could land on earth and not be able to stop you from gobbling his meat. 

Your mouth is filled with his dick even before your knees hit the ground. Jin staggers back, but your suction on his dick is funnily strong enough to pull him back before falling.  You switch positions, having him balance himself against the counter, all while you refuse to leave his cock out. His giggle of endearment has you pouting, but it swells your heart and makes you want to give more, more of anything and everything. With your renewed vigor, you push yourself in until his pubes tickle your nose, and his tip tickles your throat. 

“Your-”, “I-”, “uhh-” 

Every new sentence Jin starts crumbles to your actions. You furrow your brows both in concentration on your blowing skills and trying to decode what he is trying to say. 

Jin takes a large gulp, adamant on making this one a coherent sentence. “You know, I used to imagine this, and in my dreams I used to be very sexy and suave, talking my way throug-oof-” You run your tongue over the tip of his leaking dick, emphasizing the point he is coming to, “Now I can’t even complete sentences here.”

“You being you is super sexy in itself.” And you curve your tongue to match the arch of his cock, letting the incoming saliva pool on it before letting it run down his shaft, dripping down from his balls. Strings of his precum connect to your lips, and you swipe your tongue through them, relishing the salty goodness before going back in for more. 

“Y/N, shit, did you just moan?”

How couldn’t you? The fact that he is horny for you, so much so that rivulets of precum don’t stop drizzling down your throat, has you preening. You hum your assent in response, not willing to let go even for a moment, but Jin pulls you off before you can get a chokehold on the base of his cock again. 

“Never had a woman moan while sucking me off. It’s sexy as fuck,” Jin breathes into your lips as he dives in for a kiss.

Your chest is heaving, catching the breaths you lost when you were down. “Then why’d you stop me?”

“Are you kidding me? I was about to lose it right there.”

“Jinnie, come on,” you break the fragmentary kiss you were sharing, looking into his glassy eyes, “let me feel you come on my tongue.” To emphasize your conviction, you lick his lips, persuading him of the sinful deeds your tongue is capable of doing if he’d just let you.

“Oh man, stop. What’s worse than busting a nut in your mouth? Busting it while you’re kissing me. Making me feel like a teenager.” You erupt into a loud laugh, soon followed by Jin as well. It is so him to joke about this. 

“And babe,” all hints of embarrassment vanishing from his tone, “I’m only going to come inside you.”

“Fuck, fuck, yes. You got a condom on you?”

“Yeah, let me grab my wallet.” The instant he moves away, you feel naked, shivering from the comfort stolen away from you. But then you hear Jin grumble, “I hope I don’t have the bacon-flavored one.” And the absurdity of it all puts you at ease again.

“Ew, stop, even you can’t make that sexy. My lady boner is dying.”

He envelops you again, and you can feel the laughter echoing in his lungs before making it out to your ears. He brings your attention to the familiar rustle of foil wrapper. “Thankfully, we got chocolate.”

“Mmmh, gotta love chocolate.”

You take the condom out of his hands, and roll it onto his stiff length, flattered that he’s holding his erection for so long. 

“Okay, stick it in me!” And you smack your ass in readiness, and a very flabbergasted Jin breaks out chortling.

“Y/N, stop being my best friend for like, five minutes!” His brows are furrowed in pretense exasperation, but you can see his lips holding back a genuine smile through the grimace, just happy that your dynamics haven’t changed the slightest, even though everything else has shifted.

“Okay okay,” you try and suppress your own laughter, before continuing, “how do you want me, baby?”

“Bend over on the vanity. And keep your eyes on the mirror.” And as you move into position, his palms grab your ass and squeeze it hard, feeling your glutes push back against his grip, and he pushes you forward till you're on the tips of your toes. You watch him through the mirror, watch him admire the way your ass curves over the table edge, how your toes struggle to keep you up, and how the dimples of your back are deepened by the arch, peeking under the bunched up robe tails, just waiting for him.

“Jin.” Your hushed whisper puts him in action.

Pushing the head in is anguish and relief at the same time. His bulbous head stretches your entrance; even with your preparation, you feel it sting. The searing gets better and better with every inch slipping in, and when he finally lodges inside, you let out a heavy breath, still panting and keeping yourself from screaming bloody murder in pleasure. Jin bends forward to paint the back of your neck, sucking the flesh till the circular bruise comes to surface. 

“Can you- can you-fuck, no, wait-” Your brain is at war with itself, battling between adjusting to his girth and having him pump you into adjustment. 

You can feel Jin’s snicker from behind you, and he finally makes the decision for you. “I’ll wait, I have things to do here,” he says before playing around the patch of skin, spreading from the base of your hair to the expanse of your back, his teasing licks relaxing your walls and accommodating his girth. The pain is almost gone, expect for the lingering ache that only helps you.

“You can move now, babe.”

“Okay, okay.” Your words snap him out of the painter’s dream he was in, and he twitches inside you. Something about the ease at which you both have adopted nicknames for each other softens his heart and hardens his cock. 

Pulling out till only the head rests inside, Jin himself struggles against the third degree grip your pussy has on him. As he is thrusting inside again, your walls tense up, making it harder and harder for him to hold back. 

“Y/N, sweetie, relax. I got you.”

“Jin, I’m-” You have tears running down your eyes, the pleasure and unsurmountable happiness rolling out in fat hot drops. “Fuck me harder. I won’t last.”

“Shit. Okay, hold on then.”

To what? Is what you’re going to ask before Jin unleashes his carnality onto you. Your breasts, dripping in sweat and saliva, are plastered to the countertop, which in itself is jiggling to the beat of Jin’s thrusts. His dick is curving inside to hit you repeatedly, and you have to gather the satin fabric to wipe your eyes to keep your gaze fixed on him. 

He looks majestic. Forehead embellished with beads of sweat, his hair coiffed up, lips sanguine red after your vicious kisses - you swipe your tongue along your own lips to find them battered in response. His honey chest is heaving with every push, and a particular one hits you just right. 

You let out a guttural groan, and Jin takes note of it immediately. 

“Up,” he commands, and loops an arm under your belly to you pull you up and closer and now every thrust hits deeper into that spot he has found in you, your back connected to his chest as the two of you move in tandem; this is the most together you’ve ever felt with anyone. This moment is to be etched in your memories forever.

You scream into your fist to muffle the sounds, the edge of the table digging into your hip bone as you feel yourself getting closer to the brink. One swipe to the clit is all you have left to bring you to your release. 

And from some telepathic force, or from the clutch your pussy has on him, Jin beats you to it. His fingers come down and carefully find your swollen nub, pinching it between his fingers. If he thought you’d shown him your hardest clench, he was wrong, because right now your dam has broken, and the iron-clad grip you give his cock sends him reeling, too.

You are gushing on his dick, the rubber dripping with your wetness. Jin too releases into the condom in stuttered gasps, his thrusts becoming shorter and shallower as he comes down from his high. 

Petal-like kisses fall on your back as the two of you regain your breaths. The mirror that served you two well is covered in a fog of hot breath and perspiration, blearing your vision of yourself, but somehow, it sparkles with Jin’s reflection. His nobility-esque visuals use the haze as a valance for his appearance, framing them to make him look like you’re among the clouds. And in some way, you actually are.

“Ah, let me go.” You jiggle your shoulders back to make the man above you move. “Fuck, can you check if my spine is in place? I think you dislodged it.”

“Shut up and come hug me, I’ll squeeze it back in place.”

Now this is something you could get used to.

As he ties and throws away the used condom, you flip over to face him and fall back into his embrace, broad shoulders promising to protect you, making you feel safe in his care. Jin on the other hand is simply ecstatic to feel you on him, feeling your thumping heart beat for him, after months of pining and pondering whether anything would become of the seed of your tumultuous friendship. Now, it has blossomed to a garden of prospect and promise, every petal of every flower here reading a new opportunity to tell you how much he adores you, cherishes you, treasures you. How much he loves you.  An opportunity he doesn’t wait to use. 

“I love you.”

The pink tinge of your cheeks either comes from the sex, or from his comment, but either way, he is glad its from him. 

“I love you too, Jin. So, so very much.”

If your heart could leap out of your chest, it would do so, to find its way to his and fuse into one. But for now, your entwined bodies give you all you want. 

You hear Jin stifle a laugh, and pull back in question. He points to something odd on the countertop.

“What is that?”

The cream white surface of the table, that was maligned by your ignoble deeds, now sports two glistening, wheatish semi circles that look very similar to the sizes of one person who was splayed on top of it just moments ago. 

“Is that…” Jin is trying to contort his lips and halt the looming snicker, and he brings his eyes down to your chest (trying not to get hard again), “Did you have makeup on your chest?”

“Shut up.” All you can do is fall closer into his arms, hopefully masking the tint of embarrassment highlighting the apples of your cheeks. “I wanted to make them look extra good for you.”

He’s given up on holding back, the full-bellied laugh that resonated from him echoing across the room. But it dwindles down fast, coming to small chuckles of tenderness, and he slips his digits beneath your chin to have you meet his gaze.

“They always look good,” he whispers, his admittance setting your chest aflame, “trust me, I’d know.”

Taglist 💛:  @little7bitchh​, @afangirllikeme-blog​, @h34rt1lly, @marpotterhead​

Thank you so much for making it to the end! I hope you enjoyed the fic, my ask box is always open for your lovely opinions. To read more of my work, find my main masterlist here. :)

[princess-of-the-worlds]

tldr: As of this October, it has officially been one year since I first watched Torchwood and started reading fics. Although I didn’t start writing my own fics until March 2020, I have written...like a lot of fics in the past seven months. But I wanted to celebrate my favorite fics by other people. So here is Part 1 of probably several eventual fic rec posts. These are what I consider fandom staples.

To The Sticking Place by zephyras13 

The end justifies the means. Failure is not an option. There is always a choice, except when there isn't. These are the phrases Ianto Jones lives by and he refuses to allow anyone, even Captain Jack Harkness, to change that. Jack/Ianto, AU, Torchwood One Agent!Ianto.

(janto & others | complete | mature | 96K)

Nik: I legitimately cannot explain why I love this fic so much other than the fact it is so great! It was one of the first fics I read, and I still adore it. It follows canon so well while making you feel very range of the emotion spectrum. The author’s take on Ianto is so complexly-written but still feels true to the canonical Ianto. Literally one of the first fics I’d rec to anyone new to fandom. A must read.

only fools fall by transjackianto

“Oh my god,” he gasps out when his laughter has died down to softer chuckles, “I am so glad I stuck around to hear that.  Thank you Jack, I needed to laugh today. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he pushes back from the table for the third time but Jack stops him again with a hand over his own. It is a softer touch than before and that unnerves Ianto more than anything.

He looks up, terrified he’s going to see some kind of earnest emotion on Jack’s face.  When he finds Jack looking instead like he swallowed a handful of pins he relaxes. He’s not sure he could handle finding out Jack had some kind of ridiculous unrequited crush on him.

“I know,” Jack groans, dropping Ianto’s hand and letting his head thunk against where his arms are crossed on the table, “I want to punch myself just for saying it, but I mean it Ianto. I need you to be my boyfriend.”

-

Aka, Ianto just wants to make it through his summer as a newly single sixth form graduate and eagerly await the end when his ex comes back from her summer trip and they can reunite.

His ex-friend Jack Harkness throws a wrench into the works.

(janto, lisaianto, & others | complete | mature | 182K)

Nik: Okay, so I’m a tiny bit biased with this one considering that the author is my friend whom I adore and also one of my favorite people in this fandom. And I...also betaed this entire fic. But take it from me! It’s so, so well-written and the shift from enemies to lover is so perfect. There is angst, oh so much angst, but it is worth it. Plus, it’s incredibly hot! And I know the author has eventual plans for a sequel, although no promises when it’s coming. Another must read!

Halfway Back by Sholio (@sholiofic)

Team Torchwood run a sanctuary for magical creatures, and this time they've got a basilisk on their hands.

(gen | complete | teen | 13K)

Nik: Okay, so literally anything by Sholio is perfect. They have an incredible grasp of the team dynamic that still blows my mind, and their fics have topnotch Owen-Ianto interactions. But I chose this fic because the premise felt like almost nothing I’d read in this fandom before. Plus, there is still the requisite amount of Owen angst in this. (Also check out The Cartography of Feeling, which is another personal favorite.)

Conversational Japanese, Plus Frogs by james

Tosh and Ianto have been taken prisoner. They cope.

(janto | complete | teen | 6K)

Nik: One of the older, shorter recs on this list but still a classic. A fascinating in-depth character study of Ianto and Tosh and their friendship in confined quarters that also explores the trauma that follows some of Torchwood’s misadventures. I don’t think I can say much else besides urging you to read it!

Sharkreef (Or, Why Torchwood Was Set in Cardiff and Not the Bermuda Triangle) by queenfanfiction

There is the story of a team who tried to save Earth from aliens. This is not that story.

(janto & many, many others | complete | teen | 2K)

Nik: Look, I know that some will actually despise that I included this rec, but this fic is ICONIC. It’s cracky, yes. Cracky crack. Very crack. But it’s also legitimately one of the strangest/whackiest/what-the-fuck fics I’ve ever read. It always startles a genuine laugh out of me. It has all of our favorite tropes...coupled with some lobsters. (Sidenote: This reminds me of John Mulaney/SNL’s Diner Lobster sketch, which I also encourage you to watch.)

Insignificant Other by parachutewoman 

Ianto is tasked with telling Rhys that his newly wedded wife has ditched him to go to London with Jack on a “very important mission”. Refusing to have his day ruined, Rhys drags Ianto along to the Six Nations final and the two ‘other halves’ try to make sense of their place in the world and their partners’ lives.

(janto & gwenrhys | complete | mature | 6K)

Nik: Ianto-Rhys friendship content is something that is severely lacking in this fandom, which is a damn shame. You can see from COE that Rhys seems to genuinely care about Jack and Ianto, which I presume is from post-Exit Wounds bonding with his wife’s coworkers. And I know that the audiobook Ghost Train has a lot of good Ianto-Rhys bonding, although I just haven’t had the time to listen to it yet. Either way, this fic, and the other fics by this author, are very well-written and beautiful. This one, set circa S2, has just the right amount of angst mixed in as well as you watched Ianto go from reluctantly accompanying Rhys to actually enjoying himself. I definitely enjoyed this fic.

Beast Inside by Flamingbluepanda (@flamingbluepanda)

"Argue with anything else, but don’t argue with your own nature.” - Phillip Pullman

Inside us all, there is an animal that expresses our soul. How would the world change were those animals outside?

(janto & others | complete | mature | 26K)

Nik: Admittedly, this one is also a bit biased because the author is my friend and I am their loyal occasional beta, but I started reading it before I met the author. Although daemons do come from His Dark Materials, they have become a sort of AU on their own, and thus, you do not need to have read HDM to read this excellent fic. I definitely have not. There is angst, there is fluff, there is canon compliance. And there is Dai. Dai, Rhys’s corgi daemon, is probably not the one you would expect to steal the show, but he stole my heart. (I mean, Navi and Emma, Jack’s bear daemon and Ianto’s terrier daemon, adorable respectively...but Dai!) Expect to fall in love with Dai by ths end of this fic!

To Let by Amand_r

Ianto Jones is a good housemate.

(janto & lisaianto | complete | not rated | 12K)

Nik: Now this fic is a little bit different from the rest because it is not only second person POV but is also outside POV, which makes it slightly odd to read at first. But I can assure you, it is most definitely worth it. Ianto’s unnamed housemate makes for an interesting perspective into Ianto’s personal and domestic life as well as exploring his relationship with Jack. His housemate, of course, doesn’t remain one-sided, with loss and love and life of his own, but you can tell that his bond with Ianto is genuine. This fic provides a nice break from the explicit canon while still exploring familiar events.

Your Job Knows What It Is by ShastaFirecracker

Torchwood Three, 2045. Bram Hudson's just been recruited by Jack Harkness, it's xir first day of work, and orientation is being handled by some old man named Jones.

(janto | complete | gen | 9K)

Nik: Okay, I lied. This fic is outsider POV as well, but Bram is so well-written and complex even from the short while we have with xem. As an alternate to the previous fic, this one provides great, interesting exploration into a future, slightly different Torchwood while also serving as a COE fix-it fic. Older Ianto is just as badass as when he was younger, and the insights into his relationship with Jack are sweet and will leave you craving more.

Worrisome Heart by thepsychicclam

It's 1922. Ianto accidentally stumbles upon a speakeasy owned by Captain Jack Harkness. When Ianto becomes a bartender, he quickly learns how dangerous everything around him truly is, and more importantly, how dangerous Jack is. But the longer he knows Jack, the more he doesn't care.

(janto | complete | explicit | 42K)

Nik: This fic, this series in fact, is one of the only complete Historical AUs I have found in this fandom. Set in 1922 New York, it features all our beloved characters as completely human and sans Torchwood and aliens, which - of course - means that they can feel a bit OOC at first. Still, as you read on through this fic and its three sequels, you will realize just how well adopted the events and characterization from canon are. If you going in thinking of this as original work rather than fic, it might help you adjust to the differences. Quite well-written!

Intersecting Geodesics by NancyBrown

Stuck in a time with a Jack who hasn't met him yet, all Ianto wants is a way home.

(janto & jackjohn | complete | mature | 37K)

Nik: There are numerous “Ianto gets sent into the future by the Rift or an artifact and meets past!Jack” fics existing in this fandom, but this is one of my favorites. For one, it’s written by the incomparable author who has many, many excellent fics that I like. (Their smut is seriously topnotch, especially for some of your kinkier tastes if said tastes exist.) The distanced younger Jack provides just the right amount of angst, and his eventual fall for Ianto is built-up just enough to work believably. The resolution is satisfying enough, and the author has a few other fics in this series to keep you going! 

For Captain and Cardiff by blackhemlock

"At midnight, a nationwide security alert was sent out... Torchwood London, demands all agencies' cooperation in issuing an arrest warrant for Ianto Merric Jones, 24, of Cardiff."

Torchwood Three's Archivist has gone rogue. But, he does have a very good reason, and he looks stunning in his new suit.

(janto & tenjack | complete | gen | 42K)

Nik: Admittedly, I will often be picky in my fics featuring the Tenth Doctor because of how he mistreated Jack, but this fic features a true-to-canon portrayal of Ianto and the Doctor that I adore. It does well in building up your expectations of Ianto and the Doctor’s encountering and then subverting it. There is also good room for Jack-Ianto angst, which only adds to my enjoyment of the fic. I don’t necessarily know how to explain it, but this fic also feels sleek and modern despite its timey-wimey elements.

What Dreams May Come by AVAAntares (@avaantares)

It's bad enough that a plague of alien parasites have fallen through the rift and are preying on Cardiff's citizens. It's worse that someone from Jack's past has come from the future to confront him on Earth. But when Jack himself is taken by the rift, Ianto and Gwen are forced to rely on the most unlikely of allies to keep Torchwood running without him.

Stranded in another century on a distant planet, Jack has only one hope of returning to Earth. But time travel with the Doctor has never been an exact science, and when he returns to Cardiff, things are not at all as he expects to find them...

(janto | complete | teen | 88K)

Nik: Honestly, I think one of my favorite parts of this fic may be the inclusion of an OC, Jamiya Thane, AKA Jack’s mother. I’m just a sucker for fandom’s takes on Jack’s canonical family and past as Javic Thane from Boeshane, and this plays into it well. It’s endearing to watch Jack’s found family, especially Ianto, interact with his mother. Also included is a rather brilliant time-travel mystery that will tug at your heartstrings on many levels. Excellent soft Jack-Ianto content in chapters and a creepy use of a one-off Doctor Who creature.

Ghost Story by Mad_Maudlin

I called out. "Would you like to hear a ghost story?"

For a moment Jack didn't move, and I knew he'd recognized my voice. After a moment he said, flatly, "I don't believe in ghosts."

"It's a complicated story," I admitted, and pulled the watch from my pocket by the chain. "And it starts with 'Long ago and far away.'"

(janto | complete | teen | 70K)

Nik: This fic! I passed this fic many times on my search for new fics to read, and the summary always threw me a bit, but when I decided to take a chance on it, I realized what I’d been missing out on. There’s so many fics in this fandom, and on this list, that take familiar tropes but twist them into something new, just like this fic. Without giving too much away, I can say that this fic features Time Lords, pocket watches, shifting POVs, and a COE fix-it, all packed with a brow-raising plot twist. It’s enough to make me forgive the first person POV, which I can usually not stand but actually works quite well for this fic! A fic worth reading at least once, if not many times. It feels so utterly unique!

Time Tracks by Cyborgtamaki (@cyborgtamaki) and thirteeninafez (@thirteeninafez)

It took him a second to realise what had happened; what had felt like hours while travelling through the rift shrunk itself in his head to a mere instant of searing gold. That’s when the flicker of the fire in front of him finally registered through his confused daze. In his haste to get away from the flames around him, he slipped and fell, scrambling back until he was a safe distance away from the smoke and the heat. It was only then that he took notice of the voices behind him. He turned towards the noise of a deep, northern voice spluttering and saying, confused and almost angry: “Who the hell are you?” The man rolled over onto his knees and stood up, looking around like he’d never seen a street before. “Jones.” He sounded uncertain but then spoke again with more confidence. “Ianto Jones.”

(janto & ninerose | complete | teen | 174K)

Nik: There’s many “Ianto travels with the Ninth Doctor and Rose” fics in this fandom, but this one is the longest, most recent, and one of the most excellent that I’ve read. The authors have written in-depth chapters of the Doctor Who Season 1 episodes we already know and adore as well as adding their own unique “episodes,” all of which are deeply enjoyable. There is excellent character interactions, specifically a wonderful Rose-Ianto friendship, and so much soft Jack-Ianto. The authors have, personally, promised several more installments coming by the end of the year or later, and they are sure to be worth the wait!

Club Wales by pocky_slash

In the wake of Jack's disappearance, Gwen finds comfort in a new friendship with Ianto. Gossip, bonding, and other hijinks of understanding ensue.

(gwenrhys & janto | complete | teen | 19K)

Nik: This author is single-handedly a Gwen-Ianto dynamic icon. Their grasp on Gwen and Ianto’s respective characterization is brilliant, and their friendship in this fic, and any fic the author writes, is well-fleshed out and believable enough for the moments we only really see on-screen briefly in the show. This fic, and overall series, serves as a compelling insight into how the team originally views Jack and how Gwen and Ianto grow closer. Gwen truly was one of Ianto’s big sister figures, which is excellently reflected in this fic. A must read!

Just this once by Beleriandings (@ultraviolet-eucatastrophe)

(Everybody lives.)

(Or: when a certain Doctor arrives to save Owen Harper from a stricken nuclear power station, it begins a chain of events that will lead Torchwood Three down a very different path. From time locks and telepathy to tea and coffee, high-speed chases to unresolved sibling issues, their new lives (and new and old loves) may be different, but their bonds of friendship and family grow stronger every day. But when every child on earth starts speaking with one voice, the team are torn apart again as they’re forced to fight for their lives, and to confront monsters they’d thought they’d left behind in the past. But with all of them working together – along with some allies they’ve made along the way – Torchwood Three will stop at nothing to save their friends and set the world to rights. The consequences will ripple out across the universe and into the distant future. But they have to start somewhere, and the present is as good a place as any.)

(janto & others | complete | teen | 239K)

Nik: Many fics are post-Exit Wounds and COE fix-its, at the same time, but dare I say that this one is the best? (Or one of the best at least.) The Tenth Doctor receives his own iconic “Everybody lives” moment, but that is only where this fic BEGINS. This beautiful monster, which I mean in the very best sense considering its length, traverses Exit Wounds, COE, and slightly Miracle Day and gives everyone a happy ending. In addition, the author, another friend of mine, I’ll be honest, manages to redeem and humanize Gray in a way I didn’t think possible, but I actually found myself liking him. This is definitely a must, must read, especially if you’re new to the fandom or just finished having your heart thrown out.

The Stars Might Stick You Where You Stand by methylethyl 

Following the fall of Torchwood One, Jack Harkness went to ask Torchwood Three for a job. He didn’t expect to fall a little bit in love with its director, the practical and ever-calm Ianto Jones. He also probably didn’t expect that Ianto Jones would end up holding the answers to his most precious secret.

(janto | complete | explicit | 20K)

Nik: I’ll be honestly - I’m a sucker for role reversal AUs in any fandom, and this is one fic I see rarely mentioned or recced, which I think is a damn shame. It is definitely in my top five fics; I adore it so much. Jack is cast in the role of Ianto, gunning for a job at Torchwood Three after the fall of Canary Wharf. His “Lisa” is his desperate, life-long search for his brother Gray who was taken by Torchwood when they were both children. Ianto is, obviously, the immortal director of Torchwood Three, but what makes him even more compelling is the lack of direct reference to his AU past. We don’t know who this Ianto Jones was before he, like Jack, arrived in Cardiff in the 1800s, newly-immortal and ensnared into working for Torchwood. Instead, this fic, and series, focuses on a stretch of episodes from Season 1 intermingled with elements from Season 2, as well as subverting the expected team relationships. Jack and Ianto are believably different but still realistic in their characterization, and look, I adore this AU, which I’ve already said. A personal favorite and must read!

Cling to the Ways of My Name by engagemythrusters ( @iianto-jones)

If Ianto Jones thought his legacy would die out with him in Thames House, he was dead wrong.

(janto & gwenrhys | complete | teen | 37K)

Nik: Hopefully, you’ve already read this fic by now. If not, may I dare ask what you’ve been doing with your life? This is one of my favorite fics of all-time in this fandom, as well as my favorite kidfic ever. It’s so well-written and just so damn unique. I cannot capture in words what makes it so special, although I will try. Ioan Jones is the sweetest janto baby ever, and I love him with all my heart. Jack’s adventures raising Ioan are just so endearing, and later installments, which feature Ianto, serve to satisfy the domestic Jack-Ianto as parents craving you might not even have known you had. There’s just so many little details about this fic I love, including but not limited to - Jack’s found family in the Joneses, Ioan-Anwen friendship, and Ioan loving blue. A definite must read fic to give you the serotonin you need.

Waking Gods by toldthestars 

Why are Ianto's dreams coming true? What's in the box with the symbol on it? Oh, and while we're at it, what's the meaning of the life?

(janto | complete | not rated | 7K)

Nik: This fic is another one with a completely unique premise in this fandom. In fact, there is only one other fic I’ve read that even gives me similar “vibes” for this fic. Here, Ianto suddenly finds himself gaining powerful, unexplainable abilities, essentially becoming a god, and oh my, this is excellent. Ianto is just trying to do good in the world, and the team’s growing fear and distrust of him and his power really sucker-punches you straight in the heart. It’s all so beautifully-written, with powerful imagery that left me awe-struck. The janto angst is oh-so-excellent. Reading this fic for the first time is an experience that I don’t believe can be replicated. 

fool me once, fool me twice by princessoftheworlds (aka me)

When, after the events at the House of the Dead, the Rift spits Ianto out on an alien planet a thousand years later, so begins a goose chase that will take him across the universe and across time until he finds Jack again.

(janto & others | complete | explicit | 52K)

Nik: What kind of fic writer would I be if I created a list of fic recs for Torchwood and did not include one of my own? I consider this fic my masterpiece. The House of the Dead!Ianto get sucked through the Rift and spat out across time and space, turned into another fixed point, as he begins his search for Jack. I don’t know if I can say much else without it sounding like bragging, but it features - in no particular order - a happy ending for one, Ianto getting some badass adventures of his own, a sorta redemption arc for John Hart, numerous references to Big Finish, and too many spinoffs with more to come! Give it a shot, why don’t you?

[flightfoot]

Let It Be Enough To Reach The Truth That Lies Ch. 3

AO3

Thanks to Miabrown, Marby, and Khanofallorcs for betaing!

-----

“You failed.”

Adrien flinched. “Yes, Father.”

Gabriel didn’t even look up from his screen. “We will train more tonight. For now, go to your room and work on your piano lessons.”

Adrien sighed, a mixture of dread and relief coursing through him. “Yes, Father.”

At least while he was playing piano, Father was unlikely to come through his door.

He’d never imagined he’d dread his presence.

He also never imagined his father would force him to attack someone.

---------

After ‘training’ with Adrien for a couple weeks (read: beating the snot out of him until he got good at dodging), he’d deemed Adrien ready for combat.

Or maybe he’d just gotten sick of his akumas being defeated by a teenage girl and wanted to try something different.

Adrien had been keeping up with the Ladyblog, watching every new video of her exploits he could get his hands on.

His respect for her had only grown.

As had his dread at the prospect of facing her.

None of his research prepared him for actually meeting her.

Watching her through a screen, none of it seemed real. 

Actually bumping into her? Being tied up with her? (He flushed at the memory.) That was a different story.

She’d been expecting him, been worried about him — or at least about Plagg. 

He’d wanted nothing more than to hand her the ring, get Plagg somewhere safe at least… but that wasn’t an option. Especially with his father watching through one of the drones he’d commissioned.

At least Adrien could always tell when one was nearby. They were quiet, but not quiet enough to conceal from his hearing.

He was pretty sure his father didn’t know about the additional perks his Miraculous granted him, like his improved hearing and night vision. Father didn’t appear to have those.

Did Ladybug?

Digging through his cabinet, he threw a piece of cheese to Plagg. He caught it handily, devouring it in a single bite.

The corners of Adrien’s mouth pulled up.

These might be horrible circumstances and he’d prefer Plagg was somewhere safe, but a small, guilty part of him was glad he wasn’t trapped alone.

“Sooooo what did you think?” Plagg asked, finishing off the camembert.

Adrien blinked. “Of what?”

“Of your Lady! You know, the one you’ve been watching on loop for the past few weeks? The one you’ve been fretting about constantly? ‘Oh no, Plagg, Candy-butt wants me to hurt her, what will I do?’ ‘She’s so amazing, Plagg, did you see how she used that Lucky Charm?’ ‘She’s so kind and brave and is the best thing since stinky cheese!’”

Adrien flushed. “Plaaaaaagg.” He meant for it to be a reproach. It came out as more of a whine.

He let out a sigh. “It’s not like she’s ‘My’ Lady, anyway. I’m her enemy, remember?”

Plagg rolled his eyes. “Suuuuuure you are,” he drawled sarcastically. “And that’s why you just-so-happened to get distracted by a nearby bird when the last dot on her Miraculous started beeping.”

He looked down. 

She was fast, but it wasn’t like he was any slouch in the speed department either. They were pretty evenly matched, which didn’t bode well when her transformation was bound to run out first.

So when a pigeon fluttered by, he may have pretended that catching it was a more enticing prospect than it actually was.

He ran around on all fours a lot, it wasn’t crazy to think he’d have a cat’s instinct to hunt as well.

If it happened to give him another weakness to be exploited, that wasn’t something he could help, now could he?

It was just the cat in him.

“I still have to fight her,” he said in a small voice.

He didn’t have much of an option on that. If he outright refused…

Well. Just because his father preferred using the Butterfly Miraculous, that didn’t mean he couldn’t use the Black Cat Miraculous as well.

And as an adult, he could use the special power repeatedly without cooldown.

He waged enough destruction while going through his akumas. Having the actual power of destruction literally at his fingertips? Adrien didn’t want to think of the damage it could cause.

Especially if his father touched Ladybug.

Adrien’d asked Plagg what would happen; if the kwami had Cataclysmed a living being. Once.

Plagg didn’t answer. But his expression? Told him he didn’t want to know.

At least, so long as he was allowed to have Plagg instead of his father, he could make sure Plagg wasn’t used like… like that.

Maybe he could even persuade Father to stop this! Or at least… at least rein him in. Stop him from going too far.

He- he hadn’t specifically tried to kill. Maybe he could reason with him if he started going too far.

Right?

Right. Of course he could. He was his father. He might be a supervillain, he might be awful, but he had limits. He had to.

Something small brushed at his hair.

Mom? Wait, no, she was-

Looking at his computer monitor he saw Plagg sitting on his head, patting his hair. 

“You know… you don’t have to fight her,” he said.

Adrien frowned. “If I don’t Father might decide someone else would be a better Black Cat wielder,” he argued. “Or maybe just torture you, me, or both of us until I agree to his wishes.”

Plagg shook his head. “You’re thinking about this all wrong. You already faked some cat tendencies, faking fighting isn’t that big of a stretch.”

“Fake fighting…” Adrien’s eyes lit up. “You mean like acting?!”

Plagg nodded. “I’ve seen those new movies you humans came up with. They’ve got some of the most impressive moves I’ve ever seen, but they still don’t get hurt, right?”

“Some of that’s done with special effects,” Adrien told him, mind whirring. “But not all of it. It helps if you know what angle things are being viewed from, what the audience is able to see-”

“Which you know, right?” Plagg prompted. 

Slowly Adrien nodded. “Yeah, since I can always sense the drones. And if I can just get Ladybug to play along…”

This.

This could work.

-------

Marinette chewed on her pencil distractedly. 

Why had her partner sided with Hawkmoth? The butterfly man wasn’t exactly subtle about being the bad guy! Granted, it didn’t seem like he was happy about it…

Tikki hadn’t been too interested in looking further into it. Marinette’d gotten the impression that this had happened too often for her to be all that sympathetic to whoever misused Plagg. She just wanted him back, safe and sound.

She couldn’t blame Tikki for that viewpoint. If she’d had a close friend who’d been repeatedly abused, she wouldn’t be too interested in finding out the specifics about the latest person who was holding them captive, either.

But that didn’t mean she, herself hadn’t considered it.

He’d looked to be about her age. Granted, it was hard to tell with the suits having some sort of magical glamour (Tikki had called it “quantum masking”, whatever that meant). 

Was he being manipulated into it? 

What would his parents think?

Or were his parents…?

She stopped, shuddering. She knew awful parents existed, of course, ones who mistreated and manipulated their kids, ones who did not deserve to be in their children’s lives. 

Even seeing movies and TV shows with some awful parents, it was a hard concept to wrap her head around. Her own Maman and Papa were always so kind and caring with her. Maybe stern if she did something wrong, but they always let her know what she’d done, talked it out with her, and let her know how she could do better. They were never unreasonable, and she never felt like they loved her any less, even if they were unhappy with her in the moment.

“Earth to Marinette!”

“WAAAUGGGH!” Marinette startled, flailing around wildly. 

Alya ducked, barely avoiding getting hit. “Woooah there, girl! Just wanted to ask what was on your mind. You’ve been staring off into space for the past five minutes.”

Marinette looked away. “It’s nothing. Just personal stuff.”

Alya quirked an eyebrow. “Well if you don’t feel like sharing right now, I had another reason for getting your attention.”

Marinette blinked, straightening up. “What’s that?”

Alya handed her phone over to Marinette, pressing play on a video. “The footage the person sent me was captured from a distance,” she explained. “So the audio quality’s nonexistent. But look! There’s a new supervillain!”

Marinette just stared at the video, watching Catboy collide with her, chase her, only to get distracted a moment later by a bird.

So that was why he hadn’t caught her! She’d been wondering. He’d seemed pretty fast, and unlike her, he hadn’t been exhausted from a fight.

“Do you think he’s a full partner to Hawkmoth or just a villainous sidekick?” Alya asked excitedly. 

Marinette hummed. “He seems pretty young… listening to Hawkmoth before, he sounded like an adult. This guy looks like a kid.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s not a full partner,” Alya said. 

“True, but…” Marinette hesitated. The video didn’t capture audio, and wasn’t at the right angle to show Chat Noir’s expression before he started chasing her. “I just don’t get that vibe from him,” she said at last. “I get the feeling that he’s not the one pulling the strings.”

Alya looked at her a moment, then shrugged. “Whatever you say. You’re not the only one to think so, anyway. I’ve had a lot of forum activity speculating on whether he’s as evil as Hawkmoth is.”

So she wasn’t the only one? 

“Really?” Marinette asked.

“A lot of it’s down to him being cute,” Alya said. “I’ve had to monitor certain threads VERY closely since he came onto the scene yesterday.”

Marinette blushed. “I, uh, hadn’t noticed.”

Alya narrowed her eyes. “Uh huh,” she said, not sounding even the slightest bit convinced.

“It doesn’t matter, anyway, because he’s a villain and he’s only appeared once and Alya stop looking at me like that-”

Alya continued smirking at her.

Burying her head on her desk, Marinette groaned. This was not how she’d been planning to start the day.

*beep beep*

Turning her head to the side, Marinette cracked an eye open. “What’s that?” she asked, her voice still muffled by her arms.

“It’s the new akuma alert app the city just set up,” Alya said distractedly, scrolling through the alert. 

Akuma alert-

Marinette bolted upright. “What does it say?!” she asked hastily.

“There’s a new supervillain over near the Eiffel Tower. Calls himself Mr… Pigeon?” Alya frowned. “Wow, Hawkmoth is failing HARD at the intimidation factor. What sort of name is that? Marinette, you’ve gotta look at this outfit, I mean as a designer-”

Alya looked to the side.

And blinked.

“That girl is way too good at disappearing, I gotta get her to teach me how to do that,” she muttered at Marinette’s empty chair.

-----

“Miraculous Ladybug!”

The swarm of ladybugs flew out, repairing what little damage had occurred.

It wasn’t much. Mainly just pigeon poop. A LOT of pigeon poop. Annoying, but a far cry from the collapsed buildings and major injuries from other akumas.

It’d had one other, unexpected benefit as well. The Black Cat wielder had shown up again (her stomach twisted at the thought) but he hadn’t been able to do much. Beyond constantly sneezing and the birds distracting him, he’d barely even been an obstacle. 

Hm. She’d have to ask Tikki whether she’d get ladybug instincts. Would she start eating bugs? Emitting noxious odors when scared? Cuddling up with people when she got cold. Okay, granted, she was prone to that last one anyway, but the others would be noticed!

A black blur rocketed towards her.

Oh. Right. With Mr. Pigeon deakumatized, there was nothing stopping the Black Cat wielder from going after her.

Crap.

He collided with her again, sending her skittering across the pavement.

She did a back handspring away from him (thank you, Miraculous reflexes!), landing on her feet just in time to start spinning her yo-yo into a shield. He tried pounding on it a few times with his staff, but it simply bounced off.

Nonetheless, he kept on pressing forwards, closer and closer.

Her earrings beeped four times.

CRAP.

SHE ONLY HAD A MINUTE.

She couldn’t let this turn into a battle of attrition. She had to get out of there NOW. 

She turned around, preparing to bolt.

That was a mistake.

He tackled her to the ground, landing squarely on top of her. He reached for the earrings. She tried to punch him, but he just caught her hands.

“Why are you DOING THIS?!” she asked him through gritted teeth. 

His ears flicked to the sides. Leaning in close he whispered, “Play along!”

She blinked, going still for a moment.

What?

His grip on one of her fists suddenly loosened. 

*CRACK*

She winced as her fist made contact with his chest. The suits were protective, but she’d experienced enough hits to sympathize with the Black Cat’s shock. It still sucked to get punched.

He flew off her, sailing several feet away.

Uh… that… should not have happened. She knew that she was stronger while suited up, but she had a decent idea of how much force she put behind each blow. He should’ve been knocked back a foot at most, it wasn’t like she’d had the ability to gain momentum for the punch!

The Black Cat wielder backflipped several times, eventually landing on his feet. With a yell he ran towards her once again.

He’d told her to “play along”. What had he meant?

She couldn’t stay here and fight him. He KNEW that. 

And he’d let her punch him off. 

So… so, maybe…

He moved his fist forward to punch her.

Her eyes narrowed. Was it just her, or was his fist slightly off-center?

Just as his fist was reaching to the side of where her face would be, she flung herself back, forcing a wince.

He kept on coming, not showing the slightest bit of surprise at her sudden movement.

Because he’d WANTED her to do that. Had planned for it.

He didn’t want to hurt her. He just needed to put on a show.

“Come here, kitty kitty!” she smirked. There were some alleys off to the side. If she could just get them in there…

She was trusting this stranger a lot, she knew that. Especially since he was apparently working with Hawkmoth. 

But some part of her DID trust him. Maybe it wasn’t totally rational. He’d only given a few hints that he wasn’t on Hawkmoth’s side, and for all she knew he could be luring her into a trap, waiting for her to lower her guard.

It was a risk she would just have to take.

He screamed, running at her with his staff held aloft. Immediately she started doubting her plan.

Still, she darted to the side, slipping into the dark, narrow alleyway.

He followed her, smashing up some trash cans, making a lot of banging noise and yelling - but not trying to get any closer.

Quickly she ducked behind a nearby dumpster, knowing full well that the Miraculous wielder’s eyes were on her. If he wanted to discover her identity, all he needed to do was round the corner.

He came no closer, instead cursing loudly. “I don’t know how you escaped, Ladybug, but beware! CHAT NOIR is coming for you!”

Chat Noir, huh? Not the most creative name, but she was hardly one to talk.

A moment later she heard his pole extend. She peeked around the corner just in time to see him pole-vaulting off away from the alley.

She sighed in relief, sinking down against the dumpster. Tikki flew over to her, putting her hand on her chin like she was “The Thinker”.

“You might’ve been right, Marinette,” she admitted after a moment. “I don’t think I gave Chat Noir enough credit.”

Marinette smiled, scratching Tikki’s head. The little kwami giggled, flying up to her for a cheek cuddle. “Maybe Plagg’s in a better situation, too?” Marinette suggested. 

Tikki hummed. “I hope so. I’m beginning to think his kitten this time isn’t a bad kid.”

Her expression darkened. “But even if HE’S not, the person he’s working for — or pretending to work for — is. And he seems to have some sort of hold over Chat Noir — and subsequently, over Plagg.”

Marinette grimaced. Tikki was right. Chat Noir’s reluctance to oppose them might be a bright spot, but their situation was still pretty bad.

Holding her hands out for her kwami, she scooped the little bug up, safely stowing her in her purse.

“We’ll just have to encounter him again,” she said, looking towards the light of the open street. “And maybe get some more answers.”

And turn him fully to their side, her heart whispered.

[twdmusicboxmystery]

TWD 10x06: Bonds - First Thoughts

How did everyone like the episode? I really loved it. I’ll go over a few broad, first thoughts today and then Details tomorrow, as usual.

 ***As always, spoilers abound below. Don’t read until you’ve watched!***

Beth Mentioned! (Sort of):

First, let’s talk about the Carol and Daryl scene, because I know that's what everybody really wants to hear about. I actually loved this scene, guys. We, as TDers, we couldn't hope for anything better. Where should I even begin?

1. The can they throw acorns at looks a lot like the music box. It was more yellow than pink, where the MB was more pink than yellow, but the coloring was still similar.

2. Then we have Carol mentioning Daryl’s love life. Now, putting aside who his partner will end up being (even though we all know) i's very significant that they even bring this up. In the five years since Coda, no one has once asked Daryl about his love life. It hasn't been mentioned, it hasn't been broached in the show at all.

And as I said in an Ask yesterday, you could come up with a lot of reasons for why that is. Carl was happy and living with Ezekiel, Daryl was living out on his own with Dog and wasn't around to be asked about it. And of course in S5, right after he lost Beth, he was simply too sad, mourning too much to really sustain any kind of relationship.

But my point is that if they're bringing this up now, it's because Daryl is going to get some romance pretty soon. If not this season, then possibly next season, but it's close.

3.    Then we have the fact that Carol asked him about Connie. This actually establishes something really important: that Carol is not interested in Daryl romantically. She literally encourages him to go find love with somebody else. And yes, I know certain shippers are jumping up and down about this scene, but they really shouldn't be.

And again, you could argue that, in reality, things change over time and it could still happen. But again, it's the precedent of the thing. It's the dialogue foreshadow. It's the way it's being written. The writers are telling us that Carol wants Daryl to be happy and find love, but not with her.

If you ask me, this actually felt like a very motherly conversation. Like something a mother would say to her son about him finding a nice girl to settle down with.

4.    Then comes Daryl's wonderful reaction. He said it was not like that with Connie. Then he looks Carol straight in the eye an says, “Not at all.” If he were being shy and awkward and uncertain about it, perhaps you could argue that he was lying and just embarrassed, but that wasn’t the case. He sounded very firm and resolute in what he said. Very calm and confident. Yeah, Donnie is not a thing. This was the writer’s shutting that shit down for good.

5.    Then we have a ton of Beth dialogue parallels. Like, Carol and Daryl hardly say two words in this scene without tripping over Beth lines.

"What does it matter?" "Because it does." That's the “it does matter” theme, which Beth said to Daryl in the golf club.

Carol says, "There aren't that many people left to find out there these days. Much less good ones like her." Another of Beth's signature lines, "there still good people, Daryl."

"You don't have to be alone." A reference to the episode where he actually lost Beth!

No freaking way that's a coincidence. No freaking way he’s not thinking about Beth right here.

He even seems to get a little bit annoyed with Carol prodding him. He obviously doesn't explain why he doesn't want to move on with Connie or anyone else.

 And I think it's interesting that when she says the thing about not many good people being left, he says, “I know." It's kind of like, he knows he ought to move on. It would be the emotionally and psychologically healthy thing to do. But he just can't make himself to it.

6.    Another one that jumps out is when Carol says, "years pass, Daryl." Years passed since what? His childhood? The beginning of the apocalypse?

If you're talking about years passing, you have to be measuring from a particular event. Given that we’re literally talking about Daryl’s love life, the implication is that it's been years since the person he loved died, and he needs to move on now.

The only one who comes even close to meeting that is Beth. He's never had a relationship with anybody else in the show like her. And remember that Carol gave him Beth's knife, and therefore understood something about what he lost.

Guys, there are 100% talking got Beth right here. Daryl is 100% thinking about Beth right here. And of course they talk and think about her as being dead, because they don't know any different. This is probably the closest we've ever come to her actually being mentioned in the show since 5x10.

And again, that's important. From a writing/logistical standpoint, it tells us she’ll be showing up soon. And coupled with all the publicity about Emily's getting from the show? Yeah. She's pretty much circling the neighborhood at this point.

The acorns are also worth some consideration. I’m planning to do a whole post about acorns later in the week, so I won’t go into their symbolism too much, here. But I’ll tell you what I told my fellow theorists after I first watched this.

The first time I watched the scene, I thought the acorns represented romantic love. Before anyone freaks out at me for that, let me explain. I noticed that Carol used the word “kiss.” She was talking about their little game of throwing acorns at the can. Daryl hit it and she said it didn't count. She said he had to knock it over, not just "kiss" it. I suppose it caught my attention because we so seldom hear that word used in the show. Then, she picked up the “double-topper” acorn, and I had this thought that it looked like the two acorns were kissing. She gave it to Daryl and he kept.

Now, maybe that's just me being silly. I have no idea if that's what they're going for. But I did some research on acorns and trees, and actually do think that in this case they represent romantic love. Again, more on that later in the week.

I know the Carylers and others will say that, because Carol gave it to him, that represents romantic love between them. But obviously I don't interpret it that way. For me, I see it as similar to the symbolism of Connie bringing Dog back to him. Carol will be involved in bringing him and Beth back together. Which is something we’ve theorized that for a long time. Her and Connie and Aaron will all involved, I think. So, it's just more of the same stuff we’ve seen a lot lately.

If the if the acorn represents two people being together romantically, it's not unlike the symbolism of the serious piggyback. This was part of the Tarot Card theory back in the day, but Beth being on his back sort of symbolically melded them together like one entity. The symbolism is that of two halves of a whole, soulmates, etc. I feel like the double capper acorn could represent the same sort of thing.

And who did we see this symbolism with before? Carol? Nope! Beth!

So again, I feel like this sort of represents Carol “giving” him his soul mate. It also may be as simple as her giving him her blessing in some way.

So think about the scene. Confirmation that Caryl is not a thing, confirmation that Donnie is not a thing, a foreshadow of an upcoming romance for Daryl, and a symbol (double acorn) that may connect to the piggyback in Alone.

Yeah, to say I loved this scene would be a huge understatement.

Plot Stuff:

Let’s talk about the plot a little bit more. I think Carol taking this Whisperer hostages is what will really kick off the war. They have one of Alpha’s people and it's only a matter of time before she finds out.

And the real question is whether Carol is lying or not. Obviously, Daryl thinks she is, but I almost feel like they’re trying really hard to make us think she is. She looked at the gun, and I think we’re meant to think she took it, but did she really? We didn’t see it in the episode. So maybe she really isn’t lying (except about why she left the community) but it seems like she is, and Daryl is trusting her less and less.

So, we’ve got three really interesting threads going on here.

1) There's Carol taking Whisperer, which is probably going to cause conflict.

2) There’s Negan being in the Whisperer camp. I won’t say much about his part in the episode today. There were definitely some details that I’ll mention tomorrow, but for the most part, he was accepted into the pack by Alpha. And I still believe he's doing all of this in order to help TF bring Alpha down. So basically, they have an insider behind enemy lines, even though they don't know that. You could also call him a wolf in sheep's clothing, especially as he went back to calling himself the Big Bad Wolf before Beta took them captive.

3) Finally, we have Siddiq. His PTSD is also tied up with the Alpha and the Whisperers. A while ago, a Nonny sent me a theory about Siddiq perhaps aiding in Enid’s death. Maybe I’m hearing things because that theory is rolling around in my head, but I could swear when Siddiq had his blackout, we heard young woman screaming and it sounded liking Enid to me. Of course, he doesn't have to have killed her. Maybe he was just there when she died, and her death messed hi up more than others. Just no way to tell yet.

But this bit about him blacking out and ending up on the platform of the windmill was pretty frightening. Especially since holding the baby in his arms.

I'm thinking that whenever they come face-to-face with Alpha again, if she shows up at the gates, or Siddiq comes face to face with her again, it will probably bring all the memories to the forefront. Only then will we figure out what happened and what's actually behind his PTSD.

I’ll talk more about Eugene tomorrow too. I don’t have a lot to say about his arc here. Yes, it's obviously very interesting. He’s talking to this woman over the radio and that’s obviously leading somewhere. Their dialogue definitely contains some interesting detail symbols that I’ll get into tomorrow. But it’s also very early in this arc. We don't know exactly what this will lead to, so I guess I'm reserving judgment for the time being.

The last thing I want to mention is Rosita. I talked about how, in recent episodes, we saw Bethyl symbolism around her and Eugene, right? Well, I’m kind of wondering if Rosita might die from this sickness. I hope she doesn't, but she's very, very ill.

This virus of those has strong callbacks to the virus at the prison in 4a. But Eugene is obviously in love with Rosita and if she dies, and he loses her, then that might explain the Bethyl parallels around them.

It also occurred to me in this episode that maybe, just maybe, Rosita might be developing feelings for him. Maybe not, too. There's no way to tell. The way she talked  to him on the radio made me wonder if she's actually considering that she might have feelings for him, now. But at this point, there definitely unexpressed.

So yeah. I think I will stop there for today. Those were the big things I saw in the episode. Tomorrow I'll get into the details, because there are a lot of them. What did everyone else think?

[niall-official]

Hiii! I’ve never done a fic rec before but I read a ton so I figured why not! Please don’t forget to give kudos and comment on fics you enjoy!  Also, I reblog a lot more fics on my fic blog @verylarryfics so please check it out! 

📚 All I Do Is Want You by lovelarry10 / @chloehl10 (Harry/Louis, 31k) “Lou, if he knew how you felt, he might change how he feels?”

“And that’s the last thing I want!” Louis threw up his hands as he spoke, exasperated as he always was when it came to this particular topic of conversation. “I don’t want him to feel like he owes me something, or that he has to reciprocate my feelings, Zayn. He doesn’t feel that way towards me and I’ve come to terms with that, okay? You need to as well.”

“I would if you actually meant it,” Zayn mumbled in reply, barely ducking in time as Louis lobbed a cushion at him. “You know this isn’t healthy, right? That you can’t just keep fucking him because you’re scared you’re gonna lose him?”

Harry loves his best mate Louis. He especially loves the casual sex they indulge in. Trouble is, Louis’ in love with Harry. Surely it’s destined to end in heartbreak…

📚 Charisma by lululawrence / @lululawrence (Harry/Louis, 5k) Harry was smiling, and maybe blushing a little as well, as he accepted the phone back. “Thank you,” he glanced down at his phone and then said, “Louis.”

Smiling happily at the way Harry had said his name, Louis watched him leave the room. The further away he got, the more confused Louis was. Yes, Harry was gorgeous, but how the hell had he forgotten that Harry was also the man who had caused him to almost have a major accident earlier because of his haphazard driving? How had he allowed Harry to distract him with his charm to the extent that instead of giving the man a lecture, Louis accepted the offer of a date?

Well. Whatever the reason was, Louis wouldn’t forget when Harry called. Louis would give him a piece of his mind then and see if Harry still wanted to go out with him at that point. Because yeah, Louis was not mad enough about his overreaction to Harry, both on the road and at the event tonight, to turn that opportunity for a date down. He wasn’t stupid.

Or the one where Harry feeds on awesomeness (possibly literally). Louis is awesome and also angry. They’re probably going to fall in love

📚 Come to My Window by gettingaphdinlarry / @gettingaphdinmomo (Zayn/Liam, 4k) It had become their joke, ever since Zayn had come out. One of them would do something stupid—burp or trip or slosh their pint of beer—and the other would say, “You could’ve texted me” or “that wasn’t worth texting me?”

When Zayn got a full scholarship to college, he sent Liam a message. Need to talk to you. Call me. When Liam said to text it, Zayn said no.

That’s how it was, and they both knew it. You can text me was for easy things, nothing serious. If it was serious, it got a phone call.

But an hour ago, Liam had texted back.

-Zayn and Liam were best friends for years — and then things changed.

📚 don’t care if you’re too loud by disgruntledkittenface / @disgruntledkittenface (Liam/Nick, 2k) @grimmers did you take inspiration from @liampayne? Is that his workout secret?

📚 Enjoy The Ride by 2tiedships2 / @2tiedships2 (Harry/Louis, 11k) Or the one where Louis, an omega more than tired of being treated as lesser than alphas, is forced on a road trip by his beta besties only to meet Harry who might just be the alpha he never knew he wanted.

📚 (even when I messed it up) There You Are by rosegoldhl / @rosegoldhlfics (Zayn/Liam, 9k) “It’s so cold,” came a deep voice from his right.

Zayn snapped his head towards the source of the melodic sound, his heart wildly rabbiting in his chest. Liam Payne, firefighter.That’s all he knew about the boy with the kind brown eyes and pretty lips, who had moved to the apartment next to Zayn’s a few months back. He had dug that info from the mailbox downstairs– it was a low moment, he could admit that, but he didn’t do anything illegal, just slightly creepy.

“Maybe you ought to wear something then,” Zayn remarked, nodding towards Liam’s bare chest as he let out the smoke he had inhaled.

📚 going live by jaerie / @jaerie (Harry/Louis, 15k) Harry has only done this cam thing a handful of times when another camboy pops in to view his stream and unintentionally stirs things up a bit.

Or Louis and Harry are both camboys for some extra cash and meet each other in an unconventional way

📚 I don’t want a taste (I want it all) by thedaggerrose / @thedaggerrose (Harry/Louis, 3k) What Louis really needed was a fat fucking nap.

What Louis got instead was some hipster-looking wannabe arguing with him over the validity of avocado toast.

Or the AU where Harry tells Louis to go fuck himself, Louis tells Harry to fuck him himself, and Harry follows through.

📚 it started with you and started with me by thearcherballet (Zayn/Liam, 11k) It starts like this: you love a boy more than you love your own music, until he becomes the song your heart sings.

Solo artist Zayn Malik is recording his third album when he finds himself working with a new music producer, the amateur talent Liam Payne. Liam is saddled with the task to prove that Zayn can be the greatest musician of the 21st century. 

Zayn’s musical barriers start melting away as things get heated up in the recording studio.

📚 Life Saver by objectlesson / @horsegirlharry (Harry/Louis, 30k) Nerd Boy’s giant, dorky, adorable hand shoots into the air. Louis notices he has chipped red polish on a few of his nails and some tattered friendship-looking bracelets, like the sort you make in camp, and he might hear the distant chime of wedding bells. He thought he didn’t even believe in marriage because it’s, like, oppressive and heteronormative or whatever, but that was before Styles, Harry (Harry Styles!!! What an absurd, wonderful name! What a perfect thing to scrawl in the margins of all his notebooks surrounded in hearts!) appeared in the bio lab at his new school and ruined all his principles forever.

or Louis is a sweetheart punk with a theater background and a heart of gold, Harry is an inexperienced nerd who plays by the rules. Classmates, lab partners, and eventually friends, what happens when Louis knows he’s in love, but doesn’t know how tell Harry?

📚 my favourite colour is you by velvetnoodle / @velvetnoodle (Harry/Louis, 2k) Harry and Louis have been best friends for decades, and practically attached at the hip the entire time. Harry would scoff whenever the people closest to them would question their lack of an actual relationship, because the idea of the two of them being anything more than friends is the most preposterous thing he can think of.

Until, one day, it isn’t.

📚 Of the Earth by angelichl / @angelichl (Harry/Louis, 24k) Harry embarks on a backpacking trip in West Virginia to figure his life out after breaking up with his boyfriend. He meets Louis along the way.

📚 Superhuman Tonight by anonymous for @popularryculture fic fest (Harry/Louis, 23k) A group of young offenders doing community service get struck by lightning during a storm, and begin to develop superpowers.

📚 the little things i’d do to lose you again by larrymaybe22 / @larrymaybe22 (Harry/Louis, 11k) Louis wishes he could erase the look of defeat and regret painted over Harry’s face from his memory.

“I think maybe we just found each other at the wrong time.”

“No,” Louis shakes his head, “There’s never been anything wrong about us. You can’t just call the last two and half years wrong.”

Or, the one where being in love isn’t always enough the first time around.

📚 There’s Nothing I Can Do (I Only Wanna Be With You) by chaoticallyyours / @hazzaskilt (Harry/Louis, 6k) Roommates Harry and Louis both consider themselves matchmakers. Louis’ latest crusade is finding the perfect match for Harry, despite the admittedly disastrous results. With just a little bit of help from their friends and a lot of whining, Louis realizes that the best match for Harry might just be the person already sharing his flat.

OR: Louis is a dumb gay who doesn’t realize he’s in love with his best friend. Until he does.

📚 to the brim with fright by hereforlou / @hereforlou (Harry/Louis, 14k) The only reason he’s here is because it’s tradition. And also, Harry said it’d be fun to make Liam wet himself in fear and Louis agreed. It’ll be hilarious. He’s not an insecure new transfer anymore, thank you very much. It took him no more than a week to insert himself into a group, to get invited to his first party, and to start crushing on someone—he’s not what anyone would call socially impaired. He doesn’t need validation.

(Or, the one where Louis’ high and scared and Harry’s…also high and scared.)

📚 two loves have i by wreckingtomlinson / @humhalleloujah (Harry/Louis, 2k) “So, hang on a minute.” Niall puts the pen down. “You’re really trying to tell me that you think two people who look alike moving into the same building around the same time makes more sense than Louis cutting his hair and changing his clothes in the four days since you last saw him?”

~or, Harry is convinced the new guy who’s just moved into his apartment complex is not only hot, but has an equally hot doppelgänger.

📚 What I’ve Been Waiting For by styleandsin / @styleandsin (Harry/Louis, 14k) “Have you checked your twitter mentions lately?” Liam asks, almost hesitantly.

“‘Course not, I’ve been busy relaxing.” Louis gives Liam a smile, “Besides, isn’t that your job?”

“Well, I mean… Kind of, but you should check them.”

Louis sighs, “Fine.”

He picks his phone up from the table and takes a scroll through twitter, finding that apparently the book he was carrying on the way out of the airport was visible enough to see in the pap shots, and now his fans are excited. From about three minutes of scrolling and reading tweets he gathers the following: he and Harry share an overlap in fans, a lot of people are thankful for the book recommendation, some people say they ship him and Harry, whatever that means, oh and Harry Styles has seen the photos.

Or, Louis is famous for his singing. Harry is semi-famous for his writing. They’re both fans of each other.

📚 Whirlwind by sweetums / @darlou (Harry/Louis, 5k) “Noisy boys over at that table there, yes, you two, would you like to share something with us?”

“I was just saying that you’re probably the only person who’s ever literally taken my breath away”

AU inspired by Phoebe and David from Friends.

📚 (you and me are) the difference between real love and the love on TV by hipsterchrist (Niall/Shawn, 20k) Some pap photos spread like wildfire across the internet, published frantically on braindead celebrity gossip sites with headlines like “SHAWN MENDES AND NIALL HORAN: MORE THAN FRIENDS?” and poorly written articles full of puns on their song titles. His Twitter mentions are flooded with fans, both excited and distraught, and he clicks away from the trending topics tab as soon as he sees that he and Shawn have their own Twitter Moment. It’s all been thoroughly planned and carefully orchestrated - they all knew this is exactly what would happen - and it’s still fucking disarming as hell.

Or: a coming out story, a fake relationship, a realization of what everybody already knew.

📚 you’re the song stuck in my head (every song that i’ve ever loved) by hipsterchrist (Niall/Shawn, 13k) the thing is: niall is sure of shawn. 

[lovenotesuggestions]

Hello! So I've got a problem with like, my thought process I guess you could say. I think it's because of my mom, but honestly I don't really know. I get paranoid really easily over the smallest to the most overly drastic and dramatic things. For example, my girlfriend likes to drink alcohol, and while my morals are against alcohol, I'd never stop her from drinking, and she likes to go with her best friend maybe 2-3 times a month (🍥 part 1)

And while I know that's not an amount that could do extreme damage to her body, I'm always terrified of something going wrong. And another example would be like, I could make a minor mistake, and I'll be terrified that I've angered or upset my girlfriend, and I would sometimes refuse to stop talking about a problem until it's resolved in fear that I would lose her before I can and the last thing we do together is argue (like in super dramatic movies) (🍥 part 2)

I know it's EXTREMELY toxic of me, and is very self-destructive. And I know it's a combination of my anxiety, insecurity, and paranoia. Heck, I don't even think it's my mom's fault. She used to tell me smaller things, like I needed to stop eating rice or else I could get diabetes (it runs in the family) but I think the small things like that built up, along with dramatic movies that always tugged at my emotions, that made me paranoid. (🍥 part 3)

Anyway, I kind of got off topic giving you some bg info. What I wanted to ask is, what advice would you recommend to stop or at least lessen such a terrible thought process? Therapy isn't an option for me, so I was hoping you'd have another possibility for me. I probably sound super crazy and unstable, but honestly this stuff doesn't affect me too often. It just fluctuates every now and then. But I'd appreciate the advice. Thank you listening to my craziness! (🍥 part 4/4)

Hello! I sent an ask a couple days ago that consisted of 4 parts, and a 🍥 emoji, and I didn't realize that it was claimed already! So I was wondering if I were able to claim 🍓💕? Thanks so much for what you do!

You don’t sound crazy or unstable, and you don’t sound like a toxic person - you sound like a person with symptoms of anxiety. And whilst it’s good to recognise when your behaviours might be harmful to yourself and to others, it’s not helpful to anyone for you to beat yourself up and be self-deprecating. You’re not crazy - you’re experiencing symptoms. I think that’s the first thing worth trying to do: be more aware of the language you use to describe yourself and try and adjust it to be a little more fair and a little kinder to yourself. If you wouldn’t talk about a close friend that way, try not to talk about yourself that way. 

I always recommend seeking medical help if you’re able to - I appreciate that therapy isn’t an option, but if you’re able to see your GP that might at least give you some support. For example, if your doctor has a record that you’ve been having these difficulties, it can be easier to get support in things like getting a sick note or extenuating circumstances or additional accommodations if you need something like that for school/work etc. You could also potentially access medication even if therapy isn’t an option. There are a bunch of effective anti-anxiety meds on the market that you might find helpful if you’re able to access them. For instance, I’m on beta blockers that I take as and when I need them if I’m feeling particularly anxious, and they can reduce the physical symptoms of anxiety (like trembling/fast heart rate/feeling nauseous, etc.) which can make anxiety spikes a little easier to cope with. If this or any other type of anxiety medication is of interest to you, and you have the means to visit your family doctor to talk to them about it, that’s another potential treatment option if you can’t access therapy. 

Another thing worth trying is to attempt to keep track of your triggers. There are a lot of really great mood tracking apps (I use Daylio personally) that you can use to identify how you’ve been feeling on a particular day, and what you did. Being mindful of what you’re doing and how it’s making you feel, and examining if you can identify a cause of your anxiety spikes can be really helpful in the long run, because it helps you identify behaviours that make your anxiety better or worse, and allows you to change the way you act and avoid any triggers you identify. Similarly, you can also identify coping mechanisms you’ve tried, and examine whether they’re healthy or unhealthy, and how effective they are. 

Also I know this is really cliché, but some super accessible things that a lot of people do to cope with anxiety are things like mindfulness, meditation, yoga, and breathing exercises. Stuff like full-body mind scans and progressive muscle relaxation are really easy to do, and there are dozens of apps and youtube videos and stuff out there that can guide you through exercises that you can use if you’re feeling particularly paranoid, and they can help to calm your physical symptoms and sort of reset your thought practice. Of course they don’t work for everyone, and they aren’t a cure, but they can be a really helpful coping mechanism.

If you’re not able to access therapy in person, there are still a lot of resources you can use. If cost is a factor, there are a lot of lower-cost online therapy options, as well as free support services like online counselling (i.e. 7cupsoftea) and anxiety helplines/hotlines that allow you to speak to an adviser over the phone or via instant messenger, which might be helpful if you find yourself particularly panicky and need someone to talk you down. 

As well as that, there are a lot of online resources to help you cope longer term. Mental health charity websites can often be a good place to start looking to research potential treatment options and coping mechanisms. A lot of CBT worksheets are available online for you to work through by yourself - even if you don’t have a therapist to go through them with, you can still do those exercises. If you google something like ‘CBT anxiety workbook’ or ‘CBT anxiety exercises’ you should come up with a ton of resources that you can flick through and see if you can identify any that you think might be helpful. Stuff like making a table to record details of your anxiety spikes can be really helpful (these usually involve details such as: when it happened, what was happening at the time, why you think it happened, how bad was your anxiety on a scale of 1 to 10, what actions did you take to try and calm those feelings, how effective were those actions, how bad was your anxiety on the same scale after taking those actions) in terms of identifying patterns in your behaviour, and what helps and what makes it worse. The physical act of writing everything down makes you more aware of and more likely to examine your own thought processes and behavioural patterns, and also allows you to identify patterns you may not have seen before. Another CBT exercise I’ve read about that can help with feelings of anxiety in the moment is a likelihood exercise - asking yourself what your anxiety/paranoia thinks will happen, estimating how many times you’ve thought that would happen, thinking about how many times it’s actually happened in reality, and comparing that, can help you rationalise those fears. 

Other similar techniques include:

Doing some sort of vigorous activity to clear the anxiety from your body - short periods of exercise, house/yard work like vacuuming, turning up some loud music and having a dance

Making a list of soothing activities (i.e. having a hot drink, taking a shower, washing your face, wrapping yourself up in a blanket, etc.) and picking one when you’re feeling shaky to help self-soothe

Trying to get some mental distance from your worries by finding something else to focus on to interrupt those spirals - try and make it something productive and/or enjoyable. Doing something productive, even if it’s really simple like gathering up dirty laundry, gives you a task to focus on and can help you feel like you’ve accomplished something. 

Setting aside daily ‘worry clearing time,’ in which you write down the things you’re worried about. If these worries arise outside of that time, try to tell yourself ‘I’ll worry about that later, but not now.’ 

In combination with the above, you can make an action plan of what you would do if any of your worries happen, so you feel more secure and prepared. 

Some people find it helpful when they’re identifying their worries because they can them see the ones that they have no control over, or that aren’t actually that big a deal, and decide to set them aside and prioritise other things. 

Try not to avoid your anxiety, or the things you don’t want to do because of it. Acknowledging it as something that you’re experiencing but that is separate from yourself - a external entity or force inside your head, can be helpful. When you start to feel anxious, some people actually address their anxiety and talk to it like it’s a person - this can help to separate it from your own personality and help you forgive yourself for being symptomatic. 

Research unhealthy coping mechanisms so you can identify them. Things like over-reassurance (asking for a bit of reassurance from a friend/family member/partner is fine, but if you’re doing it all the time or need to repeat themselves because you don’t believe them at first), stress eating, avoidance, and substance use are some common ones. 

I’ll slap a big caveat on this and point out that I’m not a therapist or a medical professional, so take all of this with a pinch of salt and make sure to do your own research - I’m just passing along things I’ve read/heard from others. 

I hope that’s helpful, and I wish you all the best in your road to recovery 💕

Followers: if anyone else has any tips for this anon or experience you’d like to share, feel free to do so!

[searchingwardrobes]

Natural Opposite: 11/16

This chapter has been a long time coming, and I am so excited to finally share it! Though Emma and Killian’s relationship doesn’t escalate in the physical sense yet, some walls still come down emotionally. This chapter is also one of the reasons for the M rating as we find out more of Emma’s back story.

Huge thanks as always to my awesome beta @distant-rose, and a shout out to everyone in the CSBB for the discord chat to help me pick the song for this Halloween dance. Especially @katie-dub who recommended “Dark Waltz” by Hayley Westenra. Be sure to check out her CSBB story, Princess of White Chapel, because it is SO good! Actually, everyone in the CSBB put out exceptional work, so be sure to give them all the love and attention they deserve.

I can not fully express how much I love the chapter art that @optomisticgirl did for this. It was the first piece she made, and I was just blown away the minute I saw it! So be sure to go over to her blog and like and reblog because she deserves all the love!

Here is her other chapter art for this story:Two Four Five Six Seven Nine

Summary: Dance is more than Emma Swan’s career; it’s practically saved her life on more than one occasion. But when it comes to reality TV shows, she’s always danced in the shadows of her twin brother David and her sister Elsa. Her first season as a pro on Dancing With the Stars was a disaster, and she enters her second season determined to prove herself. All she needs is a good partner. Hollywood bad boy and ladies’ man Killian Jones isn’t what she had in mind.

Rating: M for mature themes, steamy dance routines, and sexy times (But NOT smut)

Trigger warnings: discussions of online solicitation of a minor, bullying, statutory rape, and emotionally abusive/controlling relationships; stalking; anti-Rumbelle, anti-Neal

Can also be read on Ao3

Tagging: (let me know if you want to be added to my tag list) @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @kday426 @bethacaciakay @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @winterbaby89 @followbatb @onceuponaprincessworld @hollyethecurious @ohmakemeahercules

Chapter Eleven: Dark Waltz

Emma was a nervous wreck arriving at the studio to rehearse with Killian. She wasn’t sure how she should handle the gossip. Should she bring it up? Would he? Should she just pretend not to know and ignore it? Would it make things awkward between them? Killian was always flirting with her, trying to get her to open up, but he had never actually asked her out or made a move. She liked things where they were: friendship with innocent flirting. She didn’t want those stupid pictures to mess up the delicate balance they had struck.

But when she stepped off the elevator on the top floor, the sound of loud shouting from the studio at the end of the hall had all thoughts of paparazzi pushed from her mind. She raced down the hall, along with several other celebs and pro dancers towards the room where Jefferson and Belle rehearsed. Emma was shocked to find Robert Gold on the floor, Liam Jones on top of him. Killian was trying to pull his brother off as he threw punches at the older man. Belle was crying and begging Liam to stop. Finally, Jefferson and Graham joined Killian and the three of them managed to pull Liam back and calm him down. Security then rushed in and ushered Liam, Gold, and Belle out of the room. Jefferson followed along with his partner.

Once they had gone, Emma turned to Killian in shock. “What the hell was that all about?”

Killian ran a shaking hand through his hair. “Apparently Gold has been stalking Belle. Liam came to bring her coffee this morning, and he caught Gold in here with her. Liam said he was touching her somehow, but my brother wasn’t exactly focusing on talking, if you know what I mean.”

Emma’s forehead wrinkled in concern. “Poor Belle.” She reached out and laid a hand on Killian’s arm. He was clearly agitated. “Security will sort it all out, okay? We’ve had crazy shit happen before, believe me.”

“I’m sure you’re right. I just hope Belle’s okay. She has such a kind heart, and she’s good for my brother. I’d hate for him to have to go home so soon over all this.”

Emma just rubbed his arm in silence for a moment. “Do you want to cancel our rehearsals for today? Go make sure Liam’s alright?”

Killian shook his head. “We’ve missed so much rehearsal time already. And aren’t we choreographing the group number this afternoon?”

He had a point, so despite Killian’s obvious worry, they headed back to their usual studio. They jumped right into their waltz, working hard all morning. It seemed to calm Killian to have something to focus on. In the midst of everything, Emma never did bring up the TMZ pictures.

******************************************************

Emma and Killian had been teamed up with two athletes for the group dance: figure skater Aurora Briar who danced with Sean Herman, and NFL football player Lance Knight who was partnered with Gwen Pendragon. They had to dance to the song “Somebody That I Used to Know” by Goyte. Gwen had been on the show almost since the beginning, and kind of took charge. Emma wanted to do a vampire themed paso doble, but Gwen decided that they would do a dance patterned more after the song’s music video. So the number ended up being a combination of a tango and a modern piece, and the story was about three widowers looking at the paintings of their deceased wives. The paintings came to life, and the dance ensued.

Killian argued that after Emma’s incredible choreography with “Heart Shaped Box,” she should have more say. But Emma pulled him aside to talk him down.

“This is supposed to be fun,” she hissed at him.

“Your idea was way better, Swan,” he argued, “and the judges still score this dance.”

“That’s sweet of you to say,” Emma told him, “but Gwen’s been on this show for a really long time. She’s already won the mirror ball twice and gotten three Emmy nominations for her choreography.”

Killian’s jaw clenched. Lance teasingly asked if they were finished kissing in the corner. Emma turned bright red, thinking back to those TMZ pictures they had never discussed.

“Shut up, Lance!” Emma shot back.

Killian deflated and gave Emma a sheepish smile as he scratched behind his ear.

“Sorry, love, I just see so much talent in you. I hate to see it underappreciated.”

Emma felt her heart soar at his words. She had worked so hard for so many years, yet always felt under other people’s shadows. Namely her brother’s and her sister’s. The fact that Killian saw so much in her was both encouraging and terrifying.

They went back to the rest of the group, and Killian behaved himself. He and Aurora were the stronger celebs when it came to picking up the choreography, but Lance was determined, as athletes usually were on the show. Killian provided good balance for the two intense competitors, getting both Aurora and Lance to laugh and enjoy the group dynamic. Emma marveled at his ability to get along with everyone so easily. She wished she had that quality.

The rest of the days leading up to the Halloween episode flew by. They filmed the requisite clips of their team trash-talking the other one and pretending to “spy” on the other group’s rehearsals. In the frenetic pace of everything, those pictures on TMZ never came up. Even the media seemed to lose interest as news that Belle French had put out a restraining order on Robert Gold consumed everyone’s attention. Killian had been worried that Gold would press assault charges against his brother, but when the obsessive content of the man’s texts and emails to Belle became public, the billionaire had other things on his mind. And Emma hated herself for even thinking it, but part of her was glad that the drama with Gold would be at the forefront of everyone’s minds in the studio come Monday afternoon.

*****************************************************

Emma and Killian, for the first time all season, were scheduled to dance first for the Halloween episode. The set department, like every Halloween, had outdone themselves. Emma had asked for a graveyard, and they had delivered. A black iron gate flanked the dance floor, and in between were an assortment of tombstones. Dry ice sent fog billowing throughout the scene.

“Did they have to use my actual name?” Killian whispered in her ear as she took her place in front of the largest of the tombstones. It read in large, block letters: “Killian Jones.”

Emma just shrugged at him. “Better you than me,” she teased, “now go find your mark.”

He squeezed her hand before walking to the other side of the dance floor and taking his place behind one of the iron gates. The premise of their dance was fairly simple: Emma was a bride widowed on her wedding day. The costume department had made her a gorgeous lace wedding gown that was tattered and stained with blood. Black roses adorned her hair, which was down in a messy mass of curls. Killian, the deceased groom, was dressed in a tux that was in similar shape, and the makeup department had rubbed his skin with white foundation. But the truly gruesome part were the bloody wounds they had added to his face.

“The makeup team sort of knocked the handsome out of me,” he had joked to Emma when she first saw him.

Emma had just shaken her head and laughed. “No make-up artist is that good.” She swore she could see him blush through his heavy foundation.

The video package this week was fairly innocuous. It focused more on the storyline of their dance and silly Halloween jokes than on the actual content of their rehearsals. As it wound to a close, Emma knelt before the tombstone, a black rose in her hand. Camera angles would make it appear to the viewing audience at home that Killian’s ghost appeared out of nowhere to dance with her.

The strains of “Dark Waltz” by Hayley Westenra began to play as Emma set the rose on top of the tombstone. As she always did when performing, Emma reached deep inside of her, to emotions that she normally kept buried. My character has lost her lover, Emma lectured herself internally, She’s alone and grieving.

Later, Emma would try to pinpoint exactly what opened the floodgates of pain, but she could never decide if were the first melancholy notes of music or the gentle touch of Killian’s hand on her shoulder. Whatever it was, she danced the waltz with a raw emotion she had never experienced before. It wasn’t just the grieving widow who was desperate to hold onto her lover, it was Emma as well. Killian fed off her energy, and they both grasped for one another in an almost desperate way. It was truly a dark waltz, just like the song said.

At the end, when Emma spun back around to find Killian’s “ghost” suddenly gone, her own choreography called for her to collapse to the ground in grief. It didn’t, however, call for tears. Yet they came anyway. Something about the character being so utterly, completely alone - abandoned forever -tore at Emma in a way she couldn’t explain. Emma choked, attempting to hold the tears at bay, yet they streamed down her face anyway. She put a trembling hand to her mouth, taking deep breaths through her nose, but they wouldn’t stop. Soon, Killian was there, helping her up to her feet. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest where her tears wet his shirt.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, making no move to steer her towards the judges.

Emma took a long, shaky breath and nodded as the tears finally stopped flowing. She gave Killian a wobbly smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He gave her a gentle smile in return, reaching up to brush her tears away with his knuckles. “Are you sure, love?”

She nodded, her cheeks flooding with heat. She turned towards the judges with shaky steps, Killian’s arm a strong support at her waist. The judges and most of the audience were on their feet. Marco asked her a question – something about her emotions - and she stumbled over some kind of answer about being swept away by the story. She wasn’t entirely sure due to the roaring in her ears. She barely registered what any of the judges said. Tiana had to deduct points for an illegal lift, but otherwise, the feedback was positive. Upstairs, the roaring in her ears continued as Ashley interviewed them. It mostly consisted of Ashley marveling over Killian’s disturbing makeup. Emma had a feeling her partner was trying to intentionally pull the attention away from her and her emotional outburst because he laughed and teased Ashley for several minutes about his fake bloodied face. Then the scores were announced: two tens and a nine. Emma was still numb as Killian grabbed her in a tight hug, pulling her up off her feet. The second Ashley announced a commercial break, Emma dashed for the backstage area, ripping off her mic as she went.

Emma found a corner behind the plywood sets and lowered herself shakily to the cold concrete floor. She pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face in the circle of her arms. She felt the black roses atop her head slip down over one ear.

“Please mates,” she heard Killian’s voice behind her, “give her some bloody privacy.”

She felt his hand on her shoulder, and thinking back to the start of their dance, shuddered at his touch. “I sent the camera guys away,” he told her softly, “so if you want to tell me what happened out there –“

“No,” Emma cut him off, “I don’t.”

“I’d like to help –“

“Killian,” she snapped, “leave me alone. Please.”

She heard him release a long sigh, then his hand slipped from her shoulder. It fell silent around her again, and she assumed he had done as she had asked. Then a hand touched her elbow.

“Damn it, Killian, I said –“ Emma’s words died on her lips when she lifted her face to see her brother kneeling beside her. “Oh,” she muttered sheepishly, pushing hair out of her face, “I didn’t know it was you.”

David shifted so he was sitting on the floor next to her, his arm around her. Emma sagged against him, resting her head on his shoulder like she used to when she was a kid. For several minutes, they just sat there. Ariel appeared at the far end of the corridor, her silhouette outlined by the stage lights behind her.

“David, we’ve got a troupe dance in five!”

“Gimme a minute!” he snapped back in irritation. Ariel shrugged and headed back towards the stage.

Emma dug an elbow into her brother’s ribs. “You better get going.”

David made no move to leave. Finally, he leaned over and whispered against her hair. “It was about Neal, wasn’t it?”

Emma stiffened.

“You don’t have to be so tough, Emma,” he told her gently.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Emma groaned, “and the last thing I want to do is talk about this on some therapist’s couch.”

David actually chuckled. “Oh, I think Mom and I have given up on trying to get you to do that. But you know, you’ve got a family of four people. Five, if you count Mary Margaret, which she would. And not one of us would mind being a shoulder to cry on or a listening ear. We may not be a conventional family, but we all love you.”

“David, come on!” It was now Ruby shouting for her brother.

“Go,” she told him, giving him a shove, “before you get fired.”

He kissed the top of her head and left her. Emma yanked the crown of depressing flowers off her head and threw them aside. Black roses. No wonder it brought back memories of Neal.

**************************************************

It was past two in the morning, and Emma couldn’t sleep. And after how the show ended today, she desperately needed to. The results had been a shock to everyone: no one had been eliminated. In retrospect, Emma should have seen it coming. The producers hadn’t given the pros even a hint of what the theme was for the week. Turned out, it was one that always proved dramatic: partner switch week. Instead of dancing with Killian, she had been paired with baseball player August Booth. Emma groaned as she stirred her hot chocolate. Baseball players were notoriously stiff dancers. It could be Leroy all over again. At least the guy was attractive.

Emma shuffled over to the couch and settled down with a heavy quilt draped across her legs. She took a sip of her cocoa as she sagged against the cushions. Retrospection wasn’t one of Emma’s strengths, but she attempted to at least pin down what was bothering her. Knowing she had to dance with a new partner was stressful, so it could be that. Or maybe it was the second dance she would have to do with Killian: a dance off against Elsa and Graham of all couples. They were definitely going for drama next week, that was for sure.

Then Emma remembered her embarrassing meltdown on a live television show. She set down her mug and buried her head beneath the covers. Who was she kidding? She couldn’t sleep because her emotions were too close to the surface. Fear and pain that she had pushed aside for ten years had come bubbling up without warning. Why now?

Emma’s phone, which was lying on the coffee table, lit up with a text message. She snatched it up, curious as to who would be contacting her at such an ungodly hour. She blinked to see a message from Killian.

I’m outside, but I didn’t want to wake anyone up.

Emma’s brow furrowed in surprise. Everything okay?

I’m actually here because I’m worried YOU aren’t okay.

Emma let out a long breath. She gnawed on her lower lip, considering, then rose from the couch with the quilt still wrapped around herself. She opened the door to see Killian on the other side, his gaze hesitant. She was surprised to see him in a baseball cap.

“How did you even know I would be up?” she whispered.

He shrugged. “Lucky guess? You seemed pretty shaken up today.” He shuffled his feet, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “And I couldn’t sleep either.”

Emma gave him a teasing smile. “That worried about switching partners?”

He smiled back. “Maybe I am. I’m sure Jasmine is a fine dancer, but there’s only one Emma Swan.”

Emma felt inexplicably shy all of a sudden, standing there in her plaid pajamas with a ratty old quilt draped over her shoulders. She cleared her throat awkwardly. “Look, Killian, everyone’s asleep –“

“I know,” he interrupted quickly, “I was wondering if you’d come with me.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Not really in the mood for partying.”

He shook his head, his eyes sparkling. “I had something else in mind. You can even stay in your PJs, and . . . are those wookie slippers?”

Emma chuckled as she shuffled her feet, “A Christmas present from Henry.”

“Ah, I see.” She suddenly realized that Killian himself was in a long sleeve tee and jeans, in addition to the cap. It was the most casual she had ever seen him.

“Um,” Emma mumbled, letting go of one end of the quilt so she could tuck her wayward hair behind her ears, “I’ll go change. Just wait here.”

Emma quickly threw on a pair of yoga pants and a sweatshirt, then pulled her hair into a messy ponytail. She slipped into a pair of flip flops, joined Killian outside, and they headed downstairs to his car.

“Never seen you in a hat,” she commented.

He shrugged. “I didn’t want any more pictures getting out.”

Emma felt herself blush as he opened his car door for her. “So you saw those.”

“Aye,” he said as he slid behind the driver’s wheel, “I’ve gotten used to that sort of thing, but I know you’re not. I hope you weren’t too upset by it.”

“I was at first, but nothing came of it, so . . . “ Emma trailed off, unsure what else to say. The pictures honestly seemed like a whole lot of nothing compared to the memories that wouldn’t quit invading her mind since their waltz that afternoon. Silence settled between them, but not an uncomfortable one. Emma leaned her head against the window, looking up at the hazy LA sky.

“I just want you to know,” Killian said softly, “that I’m doing this as a friend. I can tell your heart is troubled, and I’d like to help if I can.”

Emma turned to examine his profile as he concentrated on driving. She pulled her knees to her chest as she took in the sincerity of his expression. Neal had made her cynical, untrusting, and yet here she was driving through LA with an actor of all people at 2:30 in the morning. She closed her eyes and waited for the panic to set in. She was shocked when it never came.

The rest of the twenty minute drive was a quiet one. Finally, Killian pulled up to a marina on the coast where a row of sleek yachts were moored. Emma got out, eager to feel the sea breeze on her face. Killian came to walk beside her, resting his hand at the small of her back to guide her up the pier.

“You have a boat?”

“Aye,” Killian answered, stopping in front of a yacht with gold trim and the name The Jewel of the Realm painted on the side in navy blue, “and here she is.”

“She’s not The Jolly Roger?” Emma teased as he helped her on board.

“No, but Jewel of the Realm,” he replied, emphasizing the first letters, “see what I did there?”

Emma nodded, “I get it.”

“Now, Swan,” Killian told her, guiding her up a ladder to a deck area on top of the yacht, “I want you to relax while I get us out a little ways from shore.”

Emma looked at the pile of cushions and blankets artfully scattered around. She arched a brow at Killian. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

Killian reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his expression earnest. “I meant what I said in the car. I find the sea calming. That’s all I want to give you, Emma. A little bit of peace from your troubles. If I can.”

Emma swallowed nervously, taking a quick step back. She hadn’t been expecting him to sidestep such an open invitation to an innuendo. This kind offering of friendship was almost harder to deal with than his flirting. Emma masked her discomfort with a joke. “Well that’s good because I may just fall asleep.”

Killian ducked his head with a soft chuckle. “If so, then my work here is done.”

He turned to go down to the wheel, but Emma stopped him. “Wait. You – you’ll come back up in a few minutes, right?”

He smiled softly. “Aye, love, as soon as I lay anchor.”

Once he had left, Emma sank down to the cushions and drew a blanket around herself. The air here on the water was a bit chillier than in the city. She leaned back, tilting her head up to look at the sky. As they headed farther out to sea, she could see stars twinkling overhead. Killian was right; it was calming. The rocking of the boat and the repetitive whooshing sound of the water caused Emma to drift off for a moment. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the cutting of the engine and a loud splash awakened her. Killian came back up the ladder, smiling softly at her as he settled in next to her. They both lay there, looking up at the clear night sky. Killian said nothing, and Emma appreciated the silence. When she finally spoke, she could only manage a whisper.

“His name was Neal.”

Killian turned to look at her, “Henry’s father?”

Emma nodded, looking away from his gaze and up at the stars instead. “I was sixteen when I met him online. I had a MySpace page, and that’s where we started talking. He said he was eighteen.” Emma fiddled with the edge of the blanket across her lap. “I was young and stupid, shared too much personal information. He wanted to come to one of my dance competitions.” Emma let out a long, shaky breath. “That’s when I found out he wasn’t eighteen.”

Still Killian didn’t speak, but he brushed his hand against hers. Emma grasped it, threading her fingers with his like they always did on the dance floor.

“He was twenty-five,” Emma continued. She chanced a glance at Killian, but his only reaction was a slight clenching of his jaw. “Anyway, Ingrid never knew he was at that competition. He made me promise not to tell anyone about him. He said people wouldn’t understand. He kissed me and told me I was beautiful. Said that watching me dance was mesmerizing. I convinced myself it was love.”

Killian squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to tell me anymore if you don’t want to,” he told her softly.

“No,” she said in a shaky voice, “I want to. I need to.” The next part was the hardest to tell. “It was always at my competitions that we would meet. This went on for a year. When I was seventeen, he asked me for a dance lesson. So I snuck out of my hotel room where the competition was being held . . .“

Suddenly, Emma felt as if a weight had settled on her chest. She sat up, struggling to breath. Killian sat next to her, rubbing her back soothingly. She put her head between her knees, breathing in through her nose, and out through her mouth, the way Ingrid had taught her.

“Did he rape you?” Killian asked gently.

Emma shook her head as she let out a long, cleansing breath. “No, but it was the night I lost my virginity. Like I said, I thought it was love. After that, he . . . changed. He became more demanding of my time, more intrusive, more critical. It became harder and harder to hide things from Ingrid, but Neal kept saying that she would never understand the way he loved me. But Ingrid knew something was wrong. I was skipping rehearsals, my grades were dropping, I was tired all the time. She and I were always fighting. It was the same with David and my sisters. I started pulling away from them. Neal encouraged it. Only now can I see that he wasn’t who he said he was.”

By the time Emma finished, tears were pouring down her face. She turned towards Killian, who let her fall against his chest as ugly sobs tore at her. She hadn’t cried like this in over ten years. His arms tightened around her.

“I’m so sorry, Emma,” he told her brokenly. “Does he know about Henry?”

Emma pulled back, rolling her eyes as she scrubbed at her tear-stained cheeks. “Why do you think he disappeared? I told him I was pregnant, and that was it. I couldn’t reach him; not online, not by phone. It was like he took what he wanted from me, and when things got complicated, just like that, he was gone.”

Killian said nothing, putting his arm around her again and drawing her close. She rested her cheek against his chest and listened to the soothing sounds of the water.

“I guess, that dance. . . Neal left me broken. Somehow, I tapped into that pain today.”

Killian still didn’t let her go, and Emma felt herself go limp against him. She had never felt so safe in a man’s arms before. “Did he go to jail?” Killian asked.

“No,” Emma breathed out shakily, “I was so freaked out, it was weeks before I told Ingrid about the baby. By then, I had deleted my MySpace page. I just wanted to erase him from my life. Maybe his name wasn’t even Neal. Who knows?”

“But you didn’t let him stop you from dancing. You are so strong, Emma Swan.”

“And I have Henry,” she added, a wistful smile spreading across her face. “Being a dancer, and young, I was pretty far along before I knew about him. When I saw his little hands and feet on that ultrasound, I knew I could never give him up.”

“Does he know?”

Emma nodded. “I’ve always tried to be honest with him; explaining things as he was old enough to understand them. And he’s had a heck of an internet safety talk, believe me. Multiple times.”

“He’s a tough lad,” Killian said, “like his mother.”

Emma pulled away from Killian’s embrace, brushing at tendrils of hair that had stuck to her wet cheeks. “Ugh. I’m not acting so tough right now.”

“I disagree, Emma,” Killian told her, “I’ve never seen such strength.”

[thing-you-do-with-that-thing]

Love Lives On

Pairing: Jenneel

Squares Filled: Nurse!Jensen for @spnaubingo and Hospital AU for @spnangstbingo

Warnings: Cancer, cancer treatments, smut - not super explicit but it’s there, major character death.

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3900ish

A/N: This done for @spnaubingo as well as @spnangstbingo and it’s a request from a sweet Nonnie Bunny. This is fiction and AU - absolutely zero hate or harm wished upon these amazing people. It’s a work of fiction and the challenge here was angst.

I cried writing this so ye’ be warned!

Thanks to my sweet Erin @blacktithe7 for betaing this for me.

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

SPN AU BINGO MASTERLIST - SPN ANGST BINGO MASTERLIST

There were always things that reminded him of her, but today she seemed to be everywhere he turned. The basketball game on the tv. The showing of highlights from this year’s NYC ball drop. The pregnant woman in the hall that he had actually thought was her until she turned around. Her voice in his head and the mirage of her sitting in the chemo chair.

Jensen felt as if he couldn’t breath as he rushed out the doors of the hospital. Misha and Briana had been checking up on him all day, and finally they had gone to Jared, who had decided to give Jensen a sick day. Normally he would have argued with his friends and co-workers, but Jared was his boss. Not that that normally would have stopped him, but Jensen knew they were right. He couldn’t be here today. Jensen knew where he had to be.

Everything was a blur as he drove to see her. It was a miracle he didn’t crash. His thoughts weren’t on his surroundings. They were with Danneel. He smiled when he remembered how taken he had been with her the moment he had met her. She was one of Jared’s patients, and she had advanced cervical cancer. Most patients Jensen met upon Jared telling them the news was screaming and crying. They would yell at Jared for something that was out of his control, or beg for him to rerun the results cause there had to be a mistake.

Danneel had done neither. She had taken a deep breath, sitting down in the chair she had refused to sit in moments ago, gathering herself before looking up at her doctor and nurse.

“So how are we gonna kick this thing’s ass?”

Jensen still smiled as he remembered her words. Danneel Harris had been one of a kind. She was courageous and ready to fight for the life she wanted. She had gone through surgery two days later, even if Jensen had seen the look of trepidation on her face when Jared told her what they needed to do. The surgery was robbing her of a dream. She would never have kids of her own, but she had trusted Jared when he told her it was the only way. She was ready to fight for her life and make any sacrifices she had too along the way.

Jensen wiped the tears away with the back of his hand as he remembered the first time he had held her in his arms. It had been a few days after the surgery, and she was recovering nicely. Jensen, the head nurse on the cancer wing, often worked closely with Jared and shared all of his patients. Danneel Harris hadn’t been any exception.

Jensen handed off Mrs. Williams charts to Briana at the desk with a smile before grabbing Ms. Harris’. She had quickly become one of his favorite patients, and even if the cancer had been advanged, Jared had managed to get most of it. There were no guarantees. There never were in these kind of things, but Jensen and Jared both hoped that with a few rounds of very aggressive chemotherapy Ms. Harris would be able to walk out of the hospital a healthy woman.

Today Jensen had to change her bandages and make sure the wound was healing nicely. He was reading over the notes on the chart Jared had put there last night as he walked down the hall and into the room. He didn’t notice her at first, not until he heard the quiet sobs, and his eyes immediately searched the room to no avail.

“Ms. Harris?” Jensen called out as he put the chart down on the table next to her bed, smiling a little when he heard her voice correct him from somewhere behind the bed.

“Danneel. How many times do I need to tell you to call me Danneel?” she grumbled, but the distress was still evident in her voice. Jensen walked around the bed, quickly kneeling down beside her on the floor where she was sitting against the wall.

“Ms. Ha…” Jensen started but thought better of it when her tearfilled eyes shot lightning at him, “Danneel, what are you doing on the floor? You’ll get sick.” Jensen worried, and Danneel laughed a humorless laugh.

“Really? What do you call this?” She pulled up her shirt revealed her bandages to him, and Jensen felt a pang in his heart. It hurt seeing her like this. The strong, stubborn woman he had come to know over the last few days was in tears before him, and honestly, she seemed like someone that was about to give up. Jensen wouldn’t let her.

“Your battle scar.” Jensen sent her a wink and a smile, which she returned reluctantly, letting her shirt fall in place and her head rested back against the wall.

“My little brother and niece were here earlier,” she started explaining, and Jensen moved to sit next to her. He still wanted to get her off the cold floor as fast as possible, but he had also come to know her well enough to know that there would be no moving her until she was good and ready. Instead Jensen decided to listen.

“I always wanted kids. I always thought there would be time. Seeing Valarie today, it hit me that I won’t ever have that.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks, and Jensen instinctively wrapped his arms around her. It wasn’t professional. He knew that, but Danneel wasn’t like his other patients. He had known that from the moment he first laid eyes on her. She was special. She wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest, crying against him. He closed his eyes trying to restrain himself from kissing her hair. He wished he could make all her disease magically go away. He wished he could make everything better and give her back the life she had once had. He couldn’t so instead he just held her, offering her some some sense of comfort.

Jensen didn’t say anything at first. She needed to grieve and he was going to let her. He knew that in that moment there was nothing he could say that would make the impact of her lose better. He was just going to be there for her as long as she needed him. There were other ways to become a mom, but Jensen knew the strong, intelligent lawyer in his arms already knew that. That wasn’t what she was grieving. She mourned the loss of never getting to experience a life growing inside of her, the excitement of telling her partner and bringing a life into the world.

A lot of people would call her stupid, telling her that she had more important things to be worried about. They would call her spoiled because she had the money and lifestyle to adopt a child, but not Jensen. He understood her pain, and she was entitled to it. A dream had been stolen from her, and even if another could eventually take its place, she had every right to be hurting now.

After that day, something had changed between them. Danneel made jokes that caused Jensen to flush bright red as he was changing her bandages, and her giggle when she saw it made his heart skip a beat. There were lingering hand touches and urges to kiss her that he pushed down. Whenever Jensen had a free moment, he found himself circling back to her room, even having lunch with her once or twice in her room.

Offcourse Jared noticed and pulled him aside. What Jensen had expected to be a reprimand on unprofessional behavior with patients had been a friendly talk. A talk that had made Jensen really realise how he felt about her the more he talked. Jared had offered his support, but also advised Jensen to be cautious. Just because her surgery had been a success, she wasn’t out of the woods yet. When it came to Danneel being a patient Jared knew his friend. He had known him for years, and he had never seen him happier or more drawn to someone. Jared knew Jensen wouldn’t take advantage of his patient, and nothing would happen unless Jensen knew Danneel absolutely wanted it too.

“You met at a party and referred her to me. You were friends before she came here. You told me about her,” Jared shrugged with a smile,.“If anyone asks that’s my answer.”

Jensen stopped at a redlight, letting his mind wander to the day she had been released from the hospital. She was going to be back twice a week for chemotherapy, but he was no longer going to see her everyday. She was no longer under his direct care.

“What are you doing here?” Danneel laughed, stuffing some of her stuff into her bag, only taking a break to give Jensen a puzzled look. “Cme to wish me goodbye and good luck on your day off? I’m honored nurse Ackles,” she teased.

Jensen nervously ran his hand behind his neck, giving her a nervous smile. “Actually, I came hoping you’d have lunch with me? Non hospital food lunch.” He sent her a small smirk, trying his best to hide his nerves, when he saw the surprise on her face.

Jensen was just about ready to start apologizing for his behavior when her face broke into a huge smile, and she nodded. “Well I kinda wanna go home and shower and dress in something that doesn’t smell like hospital. How about dinner instead?” she asked, and Jensen felt his stomach do a flip as he smiled so hard his cheeks started to hurt.

“Dinner sounds perfect. Can I give you a ride home, or is your brother picking you up?” Jensen asked hopeful, causing Danneel to giggle.

“No he had a business meeting. A ride would be amazing Jensen,” she assured him, kissing his cheek as she walked past him. “Thank you.”

Jensen’s eyes were closed, the feeling of her lips still clear against his skin. It was almost like she was right there next to him. Right up until a horn went off behind him and startling him to open his eyes. The light was green, and Danneel wasn’t beside him.

A tear rolled down his cheek as he put the car into motion, continuing towards his destination. He busied his mind, remembering how beautiful she had been in that red dress on their first date,. How shy she had appeared when he took her hand and asked her to dance with him. How perfect she had felt in his arms, and how at home he had felt when they’d shared their first kiss. He remembered the next few dates and the butterflies she had given him. He remembered her showing up at the hospital during his shift on New Year’s Eve and how scared he had been when he saw her.

“Dani! What are you doing here? Are you feeling okay?” Jensen rambled, looking her up and down, trying to detect what could be wrong with her, not even noticing the mischievous smile on her face before she pressed the silly hat onto his head.

“I’m good you dork,” she laughed. “I was just at my brother’s party, and I all of a sudden knew it wasn’t where I was supposed to be.” Danneel nodded towards the TV where the count down to the ball drop had begun.

“I wanted to be with my boyfriend when the ball drops.” She grinned, and Jensen felt the tears press against his eyes as he wrapped his arms around her. Danneel reached up cupping his face in her hands just as the last ten seconds started counting down.

“I love you, DeeDee,” Jensen spoke, softly telling her how he felt for the first time. Danneel smiled so brightly that the sun would pale in comparison. Her lips crashed against his just as the people around them started calling Happy New Year, and the fireworks went off on the TV screen.

“I love you too, Jay,” Danneel beamed when they broke apart for air, and Jensen kissed her again, not caring about his friends and co-workers cheering and whistling around him. He didn’t release her until Jared poked his shoulder, and Jensen looked back at his friends with a dazed, goofy grin on his face.

Jared rolled his eyes playfully still couldn’t help but smile. “Get out of here. I know your shift doesn’t end for another 2 hours, but I can’t stand that stupid smirk for that long,” Jared teased, and Jensen didn’t need to be told twice.

Jensen took her hand, and began pulling a giggling Danneel behind him. Her hand barely left his for the entire drive back to her place, and the second they reached her apartment, his hands were all over her.

He was kissing her against the wall, her legs hooked around his waist, her hands in his hair, and both of their shirts were already on the floor before he had gotten a hold of himself. It was barely two months since she had gone through surgery. He needed to calm himself down.

“Dee. We don’t have to do this,” he whispered, resting his forehead against hers, closing his eyes, trying to will his body to relax. It wasn’t easy. He wanted her, needed her, but she was too important to him. He wanted this moment to be perfect.

“I want too.” Dannel gently tugged his hair, urging him to look at her. “I want you to make love to me,” she begged almost shyly, and Jensen couldn’t deny her. He wrapped his arms tightly around her as he carried her towards her bedroom.

He gently laid her down on the bed before following her. His eyes momentarily searched hers for any doubts. When he found none, he kissed her. Sweet and innocent at first until her hands began to wander, and Jensen could no longer keep his still either.

Their hands and lips gently caressed each other as they slowly undressed. Her breath hitched when his kisses trailed down to her breasts and over her stomach, lingering over the scar from her surgery before finally settling with his head between her legs.  

Every gasp of his name falling from her lips made his length twitch with need. Every soft moan was music to his ears, and when she finally fell apart, squeezing her thighs around his head and making his ears ring, he swore he could die happy right then and there.   

“You okay?” Jensen grinned when she finally released him, and he moved to lie besides her, gently tracing patterns on her skin with the tips of his fingers, enjoying how it caused her to temper slightly.

“Never better,” she giggled, before turned her head to face him with a bright smile. “Wow. You’re really good at that!”

“If you need a break…” Jensen spoke softly, not wanting to push her in anyway, but Danneel just rolled her eyes at him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, almost pulling him on top of her, making Jensen laugh into her kiss.

“Bossy,” he mumbled, kissing his way down her jaw before sucking down on the spot  he discovered that made her arch into him every time.

“Jensen stop teasing me,” she whined, and Jensen grinned against her skin. He pulled back, looking into her eyes before reaching down between them and stroking himself a few times before aligning his length with her entrance.

“You ready?” he asked, and Danneel bit her lip in anticipation as she nodded.

“Please.”

Jensen and Danneel didn’t break eye contact as he slowly pushed himself into her. She gasped when he bottomed out, but she quickly relaxed, wrapping her arms and legs around him as he kissed her sweetly. He gave her all the time in the world to adjust before slowly starting to move. He set a slow, loving pace to match his kiss. A kiss that eventually, turned into breathing and gasping against each other’s lips as Jensen slowly brought them both closer to their end.

Danneel came a second time, calling out his name, and Jensen soon followed with an animalistic groan of her’s. They stayed close together that night. They could barely stop kissing as they held each other close, exchanging sweet nothings for hours before they dosed off to sleep with blissful smiles gracing their faces.

After that night, there hadn’t been a free moment that Jensen hadn’t shared with Danneel. He had taken her to basketball games, movies and ice skating on the days she had been up for it. On the ones where her body barely let her move, they had stayed in, cuddling on the bed or couch while watching old movies and eating whatever Jensen had been able to whip up for them.

He had visited her during chemotherapy when he was at work, and Misha, who had been her nurse through her care, had teased them both relentlessly everytime Jensen leaned into kiss her hello or goodbye.

“I think I missed that class in nursing school,” Misha grinned when Jensen gave Danneel a sweet kiss before getting up to get back to his rounds. “Oh well. I am a quick learner, besides, I’d do anything for my favorite patient,” Misha grinned, leaning in to pretend to try and kiss Jensen’s girlfriend, only to have Danneel hit him square in the face with one of her pillows.

“Try that again, and you’re gonna need a nurse and a few doctors,” she smirked, making Jensen laugh as Misha fake pouted.

“That’s my girl,” Jensen kissed the top of her head. “See you at home with pizza and ice cream.”

It wasn’t until Jensen put the car into park that he allowed himself to remember the last night he had been truly happy. It was the last time he had felt any hope. It had been the night before her meeting with Jared and the night she had tried to break up with him the first time.

“What’s this?” Jensen frowned seeing the boxes on her living room floor as he walked into her apartment after a 12 hour shift.

“It’s your stuff,” Danneel kept her distance from him, stepping back when he reached for her, making Jensen’s heart shatter into a million pieces.

“Did I do something?” he asked. “I’m sorry for whatever it was. Can we please talk about this?”

“There’s nothing to talk about Jensen,” Danneel spoke, clearly fighting her tears. “You’re amazing, but no matter what Jared is going to tell me tomorrow, you deserve better than me. I’m broken… Even if I make it through this. I’ll never be able to give you a family. I…”

“Dee stop!” Jensen raised his voice at her for the first time, and she instantly stopped talking.

He didn’t want to scared her. He just needed her to stop. Her eyes widened a bit in surprise, but she didn’t move this time when he stepped towards her. Her words from seconds before were still ringing in his ears. How could she not see how perfect she was to him? He didn’t care that she could never have a biological child. He didn’t care if she had months of treatments to go. All he wanted was her.

“Baby you’re my family. No matter what Jared is going to tell us tomorrow. That won’t change,” Jensen assured her, gently running his hands up and down her arms.

He hesitated for a while when she didn’t respond. “Dee please. Don’t do this. I love you.”

She didn’t even look at him, and Jensen felt the panic rise inside of him. This couldn’t be how things ended between them. He wouldn’t let it. His thoughts traveled to the shopping trip he had taken after one of her chemo sessions. She had been asleep at home, and Jensen had been watching her for a few hours before he had left for the store, overtaken by the feeling he never wanted to be without her again. He didn’t know what else to do in this moment even if this had not been his plan at all.

“Screw it,” Jensen muttered, kneeling down before her, fishing the box out of his pocket that had been burning a hole into it for weeks. He closed his eyes for a second hearing Danneel gasp before starting to protest.

“Jensen, you don’t have to too do do this…”

“I know I don’t have to do anything. Dee, I love you. I want to be with you. No matter what. And please stop worrying about not being able to have kids. We can adopt or get a dog. Whatever you want. I’ll be happy as long as I have you,” Jensen rambled, taking her hand in his as her tears started streaming down her face.  

“Danneel ,I love you with all of my heart. Make me the luckiest man alive and do me the honor of becoming my wife?” Jensen asked, hesitantly looking up into her eyes.

A huge smile spread across his face when she nodded through her tears, whispering a yes. Jensen quickly pushed the ring onto her finger before jumping to his feet, pulling her into his arms and kissing her breathless.

Jensen hit the steering wheel of his truck over and over again, as a scream that barely sounded human erupted through the vehicle. It wasn’t fair. The next day when they had walked into Jared’s office together, all Jensen had needed was one look at his friend’s face to know this was where things were going to end.

He had stayed strong for her that day, holding her as she cried. He hadn’t let her push him away when the first blood clots had occurred or when the vaginal bleeding had begun. He had married her on a beautiful summer day, surrounded by their family and closest friends. He had taken her on their honeymoon, carrying her to bed when she had been too tired to walk and staying by her side as she slept.

He had held her hand through the pain when the cancer slowly stole the life of the strong, smiling woman he had come to love. She stayed brave and filled with life right up until that morning when she just hadn’t woken up, and her skin had felt icy against his lips as he leaned in to kiss her good morning.  

Jensen had screamed out her name much like he had sitting in his truck alone today. The difference was that she had still been in his arms then. He had rocked her lifeless body and begged her to come back to him, even if he knew she was gone.

She was gone, and Jensen was now walking across the cemetery until he reached her headstone. He kneeled down in front of it, replacing the roses he had gotten this morning with the lilacs he had place on her grave just a few days ago.

“Happy Valentine’s Day honey,” Jensen choked back his tears. It had been a year today, and he still felt as if he could barely breathe without her. “I know you would yell at me for still coming here every day, but I just miss you so fucking much.” Jensen’s voice broke as the tears streamed down his cheeks. “I’ll always love you, Dee.”

Elta Danneel Ackles

03.18.1979 - 14.02.2009

Beloved daughter, sister and wife.

Gone too soon, but never forgotten.

Padackles Tag Team (Jenneel and Jarevieve)

@mrspadalackles @roxyspearing @blacktithe7 @atc74 @mogaruke @crushing83 @theoriginalvick @jensen-gal @mysterious-398 @ericaprice2008 @adriellej @ashleydivine @percywinchester27 @becs-bunker @queen-of-deans-booty @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @smoothdogsgirl @ryantherandomhero @sillesworldofwriting @docharleythegeekqueen @mysupernaturalfics @evansrogerskitten @mrswhozeewhatsis @carryonmyswansong @thelittleredwhocould @super100012 @opeeta @cassieraider @lonelygoldheart @jayankles @oneshoeshort

[numbuh-7-knd]

Jinxed Archer Chapter 3

Chapter 3 of my Teen Titans/Young Justice crossover, in which Jinx and Artemis are the same person.  Also on AO3 

Summary: Jinx had the opportunity to rid herself of magic, and she took it and disappeared, Wally blamed himself. Now his new team has a new Archer whose attitude reminds him of his old girlfriend, but never would he have imagine it was really her.

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/10425393/chapters/24442635) 

Chapter 3: A conversation.  Wally and Barry have a very important talk.

This is more filler than anything, and I haven't had anyone beta read it, nor have I done a grammar check.

It had been a few quiet days in at the temporary HQ. They spent time together just being themselves , watching the TV, watching movies, and getting used to Jinx knowing about Wally's secret identity. He told her about his past, and tried to get her to share hers. She kept quiet, but would occasionally share small tidbits. They even had an animated movie night:

“So Jinx, I know you don't wanna talk about your past, but can you at least tell me your favorite movie from when you were a kid? Halloween Town or Nightmare before Christmas maybe?” Wally smiled kindly at the pink haired sorceress before throwing some popcorn into his mouth.

“Nah, actually ‘Alice in Wonderland’ was more my style.” Said sorceress looked up at him from her half-hearted attempt to watch a movie.

“Seriously? I thought for sure it would involve pink, or magic… Or a big villainess” He gestured to her hair as he spoke.

“I mean, that was before I got like this… after… after I didn't have time for kid stuff.” She glanced down at her lap, tugging on her sleeve quietly.

“How, how old were you? When did-” he couldn't get the words out without sounding rude, or being scared he'd upset her, so he stopped himself.

“I was about 8 when it happened, and I joined Hive a few months after.” She hoped he wouldn't ask more questions. This was painful enough.

“Jinx, I know you hate talking about your past, but how does an 8 year old join a criminal organization? Where were your parents?”

Where indeed. Sportsmaster certainly didn't mind selling her to HIVE, that's for sure. “Who do you think sent me there?” Did he really thinks she could have joined on her own?

“Oh… um… so do you have any other favorite movies?” He glanced back at the TV awkwardly.

“Even before I got my powers, I didn't really get to do a lot of kid stuff… Alice in Wonderland was kind of a fluke.” A theater in Gotham had playing it as part of a promotion and Jade convinced their parents that it could be educational for her to see it after reading the book recently, but she wasn't going to tell Wally that.

“Okay… so, since you didn't watch a lot of movies as a kid, wanna watch some now?” Wally watched her carefully as he spoke.

“Isn't that what we've been doing?” She motioned to the TV, showing some action movie where the hero was fighting some mobsters, or maybe they were aliens, she hadn't really been paying much attention.

“Yeah, but, you know, kids movies. We could have a movie marathon!” He smiled a very, very excited smile.

They sat through watching several old Disney movies and otherwise animated movies, most of which Kid borrowed from the main Titans Tower. (This confused Cyborg and Beastboy, who watched a red and yellow blur run by the television, taking one or two VHS or DVDs at once, and then returning a few hours later to return them and get more.)

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

A few days passed, and Wally received a communication from the Flash asking him to meet at a diner in Coast City, wearing civilian clothes(thus why they were meeting in Coast instead of Central or Keystone, as people are bound to recognize the boy still being put on missing posters, or maybe recognize Barry and wonder who the kid is with him.) Wally bid a goodbye to Jinx and went to meet with his uncle.

Wally ran the relatively short (for a speedster) distance to Coast City, glad it wasn't too far from his and Jinx’s location. There he changed into a brown hoodie and jeans in an alleyway and then found the small diner. Barry was wearing his usual work attire of a long sleeved collared button up shirt covered by a sweater vest and tie, only missing his CCPD CSI identity card and his lab coat.

“Hey Wally, it's good to see you again.” He smiled warmly at the teen, if a bit awkwardly.

“H-hey Uncle Barry. So what did you want to talk about that couldn't be done over the phone?” Wally slid into the booth, glancing around quickly to make sure he wasn't being watched.

“I wanted to know if you had thought about coming to live with Iris and me. Besides, I was already here for a team up with Green Lantern.” Barry double checked his communicator, making sure his friend didn't need him.

“Oh, that… I've thought about it, but I'm just not sure how it would work.” Wally looked down at the menu, frowning as he chose.

“How what would work? You'd live with Iris and I, and you'd go back to school.” Barry looked at him quizzically and raised an eyebrow.

“Well yeah, but I'm a Teen Titan now, I have duties, I can't just walk away from that.” Wally looked Barry straight in the eyes, serious and trying to get the message across.

“I thought you worked with a partner instead of with the main Titans.” Barry took a bite from one of the many pastries in front of him as he talked.

“Yeah, but we still go on missions sometimes with the other Titans, besides I think Jinx would be lonely living in the bunker by herself. Not to mention it would be weird running halfway across the country everyday.” They grew quiet as a waitress arrived to ask about Wally’s order, he ordered a strawberry milkshake, 2 large fries, and two burgers. She brought him the milkshake right away and told him the rest would be out soon.

“Everyday? Why would you- Jinx is your partner right? Surely you two can still keep in touch, maybe meet on weekends, and she could always work with another Titan, or maybe she could use a break, some time off while you get used to being at home and working alongside the League and I.” Barry tried to reason, knowing what it's like to work with a partner on occasion, such as right now with Hal, but still apparently not getting it.

“Wait, what about the League?!” The red-headed speedster did a double take, what was this about the Justice League?

“The League has taken notice of your work in Paris, and we want you, Robin, and Speedy to join us. We want to work with you.” Barry put his food down as he spoke, trying his best “Serious and Diplomatic” impression.

“You want the Titans to work with the League?” Wally was shocked, to say the least, the league had barely acknowledged the Titans before this.

“Not-Not necessarily. I'd be fine with it, but the others aren't sure about those on the Titans we haven't worked with before. We want you. The Titans don't necessarily need you three. But we do.” Barry didn't want to scare his nephew off, and he truly thought more young heros working with the league could only be a strength, but his teammates sadly did not share this opinion.

“I'll think about it… but what about Jinx?” Was Barry really asking him to abandon Jinx? After everything they've been through together?!

“Like I said she can work with someone else, or maybe find a mentor, she's only been good for a few months, right? Are you sure this is a permanent change? And even if it is, maybe she can go home to her family, or live with the rest of the main Titans.” Barry raised an eyebrow, if Wally really didn't want to live with him and Iris, couldn't he just say so? Before Wally could respond his food arrived, resulting in him quickly devouring one of the burgers, making it disappear in under a minute.

“That's great and all, Uncle Barry, but Jinx isn't just my partner in crime fighting, she's also my uh, girlfriend.” Wally awkwardly wiped some ketchup off his cheek from his burger, hoping his mentor and uncle wouldn't react to badly to this news.

“You're dating her?! But she was a villain!” Barry was flabbergasted, didn't he teach his sidekick better than to date the enemy?

“Ex Villain! She's reformed! Besides, it's not like you've never flirted with a supervillain” Wally could remember plenty of times that his uncle distracted the villain or villainess with flirtations.

“I'm married to your Aunt!” Barry glanced at his wedding ring in confusion, he would never cheat on Iris!

“Yeah, but before that…. besides, I've seen you and captain cold. Not to mention some others, like Killer Frost, and-” Wally had a whole list planned, and fully planned on saying it all before he got interrupted.

“Enough, Wally, I get it. But seriously? You're a 15-year old kid. How serious can this relationship be?” Barry looked at Wally with worried eyes.

“Pretty serious Uncle B. She needs me. She doesn't have anyone else. She isn't close to the other Titans, and she had to cut ties with her old friends because they were all villains.” Wally needed her, too. She likes him for who he is now, not the kid he used to be, or the hero he could be. She sits across from him as he talks about physics with a fond smile on her face and calls him a dork. She likes to sketch everything from unicorns to the kitchen utensils to him; he really likes it when she draws him. They work out and train together, figuring out how to work best as a team. They debate the news. They argue about little things like tv or pizza topping out of boredom but usually comprise and wind up cuddling. She even calms him down without even meaning to when he has an anxiety attack.

“So what about her family? Is she an orphan?” Barry wanted to understand, but he still worried that Wally was too young for such a serious relationship. Maybe the league could set her up with a legal guardian to take her in, make it so she isn't only relying on his nephew for emotional support.

“I don't know, probably? Maybe. She doesn't want to tell me about her past.” Wally just wanted this conversation to end, picking at his fries and dipping them in his milkshake.

“How much do you really know about her? What's her real name? Can you really trust her?” Can I trust her with you?

“I know I can trust her. But as for the other two I don't know… I don't even know how she got the way she is now… maybe she doesn't really even have a name other than Jinx… I asked her the other day, but… she didn't have an answer.” Wally trembled, looking from Barry, to his plate, to the other patrons. Why couldn't Barry just accept Jinx? He glanced back at Barry and narrowed his eyes, hurt and angry at the accusation against one precious to him.

“Alright… maybe that was… out of line of me. Kid, I know she doesn't want to talk about it, but from what you're saying, she could probably use the League’s help. If you can talk her into it, we can probably at least get her a therapist, to make sure she stays on the right path, and to help her with any issues she might have, which, if her childhood was anything like yours, and with having to go to a school for supervillains… she probably needs. I know you Titans like being independent, but the League is here if any of you need us.” Barry felt dumb, he seriously did want to help, but he was probably doing more harm than good at this point. He knew the Titans probably didn't have that many resources (he knew for a fact that they got a lot of financial and technical support from Bruce Wayne, who had kept supporting his son even when they weren't on speaking terms) and after seeing what Wally had been through, and knowing many of the Titans were kids who ran away from home, were kicked out, or were orphaned or otherwise without a place to go, didn't want them to suffer.

“Thanks for that, Uncle B. It was a little mean of you to say that, but I know you're just worried about me.” Wally had just finished speaking when his Teen Titans communicator went off “Sorry, I have to answer this… Hey Rob, what's up? Trouble in Jump? Alright, I’ll go get Jinx and meet you at the T Tower… No she's not with me, I was meeting with the Flash… See you soon.” He glanced up at Barry, shoulders slumping as he sighed and said “Sorry, but the Titans need me and Jinx for a mission in Jump City. Say Hi to Aunt Iris for me, bye!” He rushed out as quickly as possible without arousing suspicion from the regular patrons of the diner.

“Heh, he was in such a rush he didn't even finish his fries...Oh well, more for me!” He ate his food and Wally's leftover fries quickly, trying to figure out what he would tell Iris. Suddenly his comm. link buzzed “Flash here, what's up… oh hey Hal. Yeah, I finished talking to Wally, no I think I messed up. You found the guy? Great, I'll meet you there.”

“Jinx, I'm home!” Wally entered the bunker, to find Jinx all dressed and ready at the door.

“I can see that kid, now come on, the others are waiting!”

Thanks for reading, please leave a comment and tell me what you think!

[artificialqueens]

Primary care (a.k.a. the Poundcake ficlet collection) 4/13 [Katya/Alaska] - Spoky

Original A/N: I got a lot of likes for Ch.3 of PC and it made me all fluff inside, thank you!! I also have to agree with the anon, spitting someone else’s cum into a stranger’s mouth without their consent is legit fucked up. Children, don’t do it, it is not cool. <3

Beta: apatheticskeleton. Without her Ch.4 would have meters and not feet, a lot of missing commas and 14 typos. xx

New A/N: I hadn’t planned on posting this quite yet as the original plan was to post Ch.5 with it, but I saw Dandee’s post on AQC today and as I know that she reads PC, I wanted to cheer her up.  

Therefore, this is for Dandee. Cheer up sweetie. xx (P.S. The rest of you, go see her selfies, the girl is gorgeous.)

Primary care  (a.k.a. the Poundcake ficlet collection)

Chapter 4/13 - ‘Chicken’

‘Hieee!’ ‘Hi Alaska!’ ‘Byeee!’ ‘Hi, Alaska!’ ‘Hi, Alaska!’ ‘Hieee!’ ‘Hi, Alaska!’ ‘Hi, Alaska!’ ‘Hieeee!’ ‘Hi, Alaska!’ ‘Hieee!’ ‘Hi, Alaska!’ ‘Hi, Alaska!’ ‘Hi, Alaska!’ ‘Hieeee!’ ‘Hi, Alaska!’ ‘Hieee!’

Alaska closed the door behind her and leaned her forehead against it. People were exhausting. She was carrying a box of chicken McNuggets and a coke with her, the only things she had had time to grab. The set was swarming with people, familiar and strange, and she really just wanted some peace and quiet.

She turned around and realised she was occupying a recording room with a huge desk with at least a zillion buttons on it, a computer, couple of chairs and huge darkened window. In front of the window there was a leather bench and she chose to sit on that rather than anywhere near the recording desk, just to be safe.

She put her food down on the bench and looked through the window. On the other side there was a music room, but it was at least 10 feet lower than the recording studio where she was currently standing, probably for sound quality purposes. The room seemed to have every instrument one could imagine and a comfortable looking red carpet covered the floor. Alaska smiled at the thought of being able to record somewhere as fancy some day. One could dream. She sat next to her nuggets and took a sip of her coke before popping out her mobile. Absentmindedly, she began browsing through her social media.

Willam had posted some excellent shots from his latest gig. Katya was once again hugging someone’s naked ass. Roxxxy had won another useless title. Alaska backtracked her thoughts. Roxxxy had won another title. They were friends, she was supposed to be supportive of this pageant stuff. Sometimes she forgot that. A like for Roxxxy. Advertisements. Some political stuff about LGBT+ rights; she retweeted them. Someone snapchatted her a dick pic. Back to instagram and Detox’s new eyebrow colour.

She munched the lukewarm nuggets and smirked at the newest Sharon Needles read by Bianca Del Rio on Youtube. She chuckled and sent mentally some love to Aaron - can’t live with him, can’t live without him. There was a distant bang of a door and some muffled noises.

Alaska glanced away from her phone and through the window, into the music room below her. A couple had just entered the room and it seemed they were fighting. She had seen Trixie Mattel out of drag enough of times to recognise him and of course also his partner in crime, Katya Zamolodchikova in full drag. The two seemed to be exchanging some very heated words based on their expressions and hand gestures. Brian was waving his hands in the air while Katya kept interrupting Brian’s tantrum, who then started all over again while Katya was preparing to defend herself against whatever Brian accused her off. Alaska squeezed her eyes shut, her brain hurt.

The conflict looked like a lover’s spat when one couldn’t hear a thing they were saying. Maybe they had figured out that the internet imagined them having sex with each other and disagreed on the dynamics? Or maybe Katya had murdered Brian’s favourite wig and it was time for consequences? Alaska smiled, it was none of her business, but it was also not her fault that they had chosen to have their fight in front of her, so she continued to watch the silent war while picking at her lunch.

It was actually quite something. Both Brians seemed to give the other enough time to express themselves properly and then gave a reply that seemed to match the other’s force and energy. It was a completely different dynamic than what Alaska was used to in her relationships. It was almost like the two were fighting but knew beforehand who was the winner and who was right, but needed to have the fight anyway. It was rather poetic really.

There was a quiet knock on the door. Alaska sighed as the door opened and to her surprise it was her favourite ex.

‘Well hello you,’ Alaska smirked at Aaron, who smiled warmly.

‘Sorry to bother, Fame saw you coming in here,’ Aaron explained how he had found her.

‘I’m not hiding,’ Justin answered, dropping Alaska to the background. ‘I just wanted some space.’

Aaron nodded, walked next to Justin and stole one of his nuggets. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m good. Watching the latest drama of RuGirls folding in front of my eyes.’

‘Huh?’

Justin indicated towards the BB-conflict behind the window

‘Oh, wow.’

They watched in silence as the fight seemed to calm down, only to be instantly back in full flames after something that Katya had said.

‘They have a better dynamic than we ever did,’ Aaron noted and stole another nugget.

‘I just thought about that,’ Justin laughed. ‘Probably helps that they’re not absolutely hammered.’

‘Or high.’

‘Or high,’ Justin agreed. ‘How’s Chad?’

‘He’s fine,’ Aaron smiled and obviously tried to hide his happiness.

Justin chuckled. ‘You now I’m happy for you, right? Not like, ‘I’m happy for you’, but for real.’

Aaron smiled and nodded. ‘I know.’

They watched the fight quiet down once again. Brian took a seat at the drums while Brian sat on the floor.

‘I just… I wish you were happy too,’ Aaron said quietly and Justin wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

‘I will be. You’ll see. I’ll be so disgustingly happy and sweet your teeth will rot.’

Aaron snorted a laugh. ‘Looking forward to it, it’ll look amazing on Sharon.’

They shared a smile. The conflict seemed to have calmed down.

‘I don’t think it’s a lovers’ spat,’ Aaron said then, out of the blue, and Justin looked at him questioningly.

‘I heard about Texas,’ Aaron explained. Justin took some distance from his ex-lover and concentrated to his food. Of course. Who hadn’t heard about Texas and the show Alaska and Brian had provided?

‘I thought you had stopped that,’ Aaron said in a slightly judgemental tone.

‘What? Sucking dick?’ Justin asked icely.

‘Giving oral-sex performances for paying audiences,’ Aaron shot back.

Bitch.

‘I have. Never asked for a penny,’ Justin snapped and stood up. That was really a low blow. Aaron had no right to judge, what they’d done in the past was way worse. Justin stood up and walked behind the recording table, dropped the half-full box of nuggets on it and sat down. He wanted distance from Aaron.

‘You really like him, don’t you?’ Aaron asked with a gentler tone, almost as if apologising.

Justin had, however, already pulled up a wall. He was not prepared to deal with this. And what right did Aaron have, to come at him suddenly like this? None. Not anymore.  

‘Like who?’ Alaska drawled defensively, playing stupid.

‘Fuck that. Justin. I know you. I know you better than you know you!’ Aaron snapped and turned to face the Slytherin Queen whose posture told Aaron that he disagreed entirely.

Aaron chewed his lip. ‘I don’t get it. He’s so weird… And insecure, and somewhat disgusting.’

Alaska raised an eyebrow. ‘Sounds to me like a pot calling the kettle black.’

Aaron stared in shock for a second but then cackled his signature laugh. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry.’

‘Mm,’ Alaska nodded in acceptance. There was a short silence.

‘Honestly though, what a weird type to have…’

Alaska snorted. ‘Oh bitch, please, at least I have a type! You keep going back and forth from gorgeous to fugly. It’s really fucking disturbing!’

There was a short silence before they both burst out to howling laughter.

‘Come on, I think the break is soon over.’

Alaska nodded, gathered her things and followed her ex-lover back to the set. They really had come far since their breakup.

* * *

In the music room Brian was staring at Katya with wide eyes and holding his right palm over his wide open mouth. They heard the recording room door click shut and immediately Brian let out a loud pithy laugh.

*

The Brians had had what Katya would’ve called a ‘disagreement about the realities of life whilst Trixie lived on a fucking imaginary Barbie planet’ and Brian would’ve called ‘Brian McCook being a crack whore dibshit, so basically just himself’. It had started as a discussion on how Katya did not like Brian’s new boyfriend, because he treated Brian like shit. Brian had disagreed and started complaining how Katya never liked any of his boyfriends because he was a selfish, conceited, delusional dumb fuck, who only cared about himself and did not want to see his best friend happy because his own fugly ass could not even land a trick. And only after that had they started arguing.

They had just arrived to the safe-zone of apologies and mutual compliments on how important they were to each other and how, of course, they wanted happiness for each other, when their discussion had been interrupted by a strident electric sound.

‘Christ, what’s that?’ Brian had asked, holding his ears and at the very same moment a familiar voice had flooded the room.

‘You really like him, don’t you?’

The Brians had started franticly to look for the origin of the sound. Brian silently mouthed ‘Where is that coming from?’ to Katya, while she was mouthing ‘Is that Sharon?’ back. They answered to each other with knitted eyebrows and a simultaneous silent ‘What!?’.

‘Like who?’

Katya froze. He’d know that drawl anywhere. Brian glanced quickly at his best friend but then continued examining the room.

‘Fuck that. Justin. I know you. I know you better than you know you!’

There was a silence. Brian had tried signing to Katya to look up, to show that they were in a recording room, not in a practice room like the sign on the door had said. Katya wasn’t, however, paying attention to anything else except the voices.

‘I don’t get it. He’s so weird… And insecure, and somewhat disgusting.’

That was thick, coming from Sharon, Katya thought to herself.

‘Sounds to me like a pot calling the kettle black.’

Katya smirked. Hah! Alaska one, Sharon zero.

‘You’re right. I’m sorry.’

‘Mm.’

Brian had grabbed Katya’s shoulder and forced the man to look up to the recording studio, where they could see the shadow of Sharon Needles out of drag.

‘Honestly though, what a weird type to have…’

‘Oh bitch, please, at least I have a type! You keep going back and forth from gorgeous to fugly. It’s really fucking disturbing!’

Loud laughter had filled the room.

‘Come on, I think the break is soon over.’

[end flashback]

Brian calmed his laughter down. That had been brilliant.

‘You think they knew about us, heard us?’ Katya asked in all seriousness.

‘No. You stupid fuckwit,’ Brian snorted. ‘Would they have had that conversation in front of us? Use your head for thinking for once.’

‘But it’s so much more fun to do other stuff with it,’ Katya joked.

Brian raised his eyebrow, ‘Such as?’

Katya started to push and poke Brian’s shoulder with his head. Brian rolled his eyes.

‘Who do you think they were talking about?’ Katya asked then and glanced back up, as if waiting for Alaska and Sharon to come back and explain themselves.

Brian did not see the point of beating around the bush. ‘You.’

‘Not necessarily, there is a lot of insecure disgusting weirdos out there,’ Katya reasoned.

‘Yeah, and I bet the Medusa has sucked all basic thinking skills out of them as well,’ Brian snorted and kicked Katya gently to the side. ‘Are we ok?’ he then asked uncertainly.

‘Huh?’ Katya asked, confused. ‘Why aren’t we ok?’

Brian stared at Katya in disbelief for couple of seconds. ‘Are you kidding me?!’

Katya kept a straight face exactly two second before he lost it and laughed. ‘Yesyes, I’m kidding, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Yes, we’re ok, I’m so sorry. We’re ok, right? I’m so sorry - but your face!’

Brian snorted and turned to walk out. Katya was, however, faster and grabbed him from behind into a full body hug, meaning that she first wrapped her hands and then her legs around Brian.

‘I said I was sorry! I’m sorry. Can we be friends again? Please?’

Brian saw an opportunity. ‘Only if you let me go an-’

‘Done!’

‘I wasn’t finished.’

‘I don’t care, I’ll do the other thing too.’

Brian smirked. ‘And you tell me all about Cobra Mama in detail.’

Katya went little pale, untangled herself from Brian and took a step back. Brian crossed his arms demandingly.

‘But you know what happened.’

‘Yes, I have the Detox, the Roy, the very descriptive Adore and the Alyssa version. I want Katya version.’

‘Fine,’ Katya gave in and then added firmly. ‘Later.’

Brian lifted his arms in surrender and the pair exited the room.

* * *

When Katya finished at the set she headed straight to the dressing room. According to her phone she was exactly 36.3 minutes late from her meeting with Brian. When she arrived to the dressing room Justin was finishing his packing and was stuffing his make-up bags into a red suitcase.

‘Need a hand?’ Katya asked and got a smile.

‘Only if they’re normal sized and attached to a fully functional human body,’ came the reply.

Katya smirked. He knew her well. She kneeled next to Justin but made no effort to help him pack.

‘Umm.’

‘Yes?’

‘Well there’s no nice way of saying this so I’m just going to say it, then at least it’s over with, like a Band-aid and hopefully it’ll hurt less than if I wore it out, you now. So like, you must know that everyone knows about Texas. Like, me-you-Texas, and like Trixie was asking about it and I think she was upset I hadn’t told her before she heard from someone else and I have to tell her tonight, with details, and I just wanted to tell you, now that you are here, that I’m going to tell her, about the details, and I probably wouldn’t have thought about telling you if I hadn’t seen you, which I obviously should have, but now you know.’

Katya took a deep breath and met Justin’s eyes.

‘Impressive,’ was Justin’s reply.

Katya was confused. ‘Huh?’

Justin continued packing and gave a small smile. ‘No, it was just very impressive you could say all that with a single breath.’

Katya laughed and slapped Justin’s shoulder. ‘Bitch.’

There was a short silence and Justin seemed to be considering what Katya had said. At least Katya hoped he was considering it, and not for example how to slice her into tiny pieces and feed to pigs. Justin stood up and Katya followed suit.

‘Look, it’s fine. It’s your decision, and I really don’t mind. It’s a co-ownership on the details and you can do whatever you want with your half.’

Katya glanced at Justin who was wearing black tight jeans, a black Alaska T-shirt and a white jacket with a K on the back. His hair was styled and while he looked little tired Katya had to admit the man looked edible.

‘I just. It felt private,’ Katya said, unsure.

Justin laughed. ‘What’s private anymore? I have like five different social media accounts I keep updating with different stuff to keep people interested. Nothing’s private anymore and if you’re such a chicken about it, maybe you’re in the wrong business honey.’

Katya stared at Justin who seemed to be entirely serious. Then again, he probably was. Katya snorted.

‘You’re calling me a chicken?’

‘Yeah, I guess I was,’ Justin chuckled and Katya had never been as grateful of 6 inch stilettos because she certainly was a lot of things, but not a chicken, and the added height gave her an advantage.

She stepped to Justin who automatically stepped back, only to be trapped by a wall. Who’s the chicken now? Katya smirked at the thought and took the opportunity as it presented itself, she pressed her lips firmly onto his. It took Justin only a nano-second to catch up and then they were kissing. With passion. Hot, sexy, wet, hard - did she mention hot? Those were only few of the words Katya would’ve used to describe it. Justin’s hands found themselves onto her hips and Katya smirked. They should’ve been doing this a long time ago. She groped between his legs and was happy to find him interested.

It was at the exact same moment when Katya prepared to open Justin’s fly that she heard the phone, which based on the ring tone, had been ringing for a while. Brian. She stopped the kiss and pressed her forehead onto Justin’s shoulder to catch her breath.

‘Maybe you can tell her the details of tonight too, you know, to keep her happy,’ Justin said through deep breaths.

Katya laughed.

‘You should take it,’ Justin said with a more in control voice than what Katya could’ve achieved right there and then.

‘Yeah, ok,’ she replied and took the call. She was listening to Brian’s complaints about cold pizza, while watching through the mirrors as Justin packed his bags, gave her a small wave and walked out.

She wondered how long it would take him to notice that he had lipstick all over his lips and chin. The thought made her giggle.

      —

A/N2: You read all of it? ThankyouThankyou! *squeeze*

[topicprinter]

I've been working on this product for ~2 years now. I don't develop, but I handle all the numbers and investor-related things since I spent some time working as a senior member of a VC fund.​My co-founder built a beta 2 years ago and found me as I was one of its first users. I fell in love with the product and we've been working together ever since.​In August, the app started to skyrocket in users, and we hit about 3k till date. Usage isn't the best, they figure out how to use it and get to the core value, but retention is poor. I'd say with 3-6 months of work on the product we could get the loop closed and have users returning and sharing.​We've been able to grow all over the nation and we're steadily growing, based off of the rates we'll hit the 100k user mark sometime Q2 next year.​Investors are starting to take an interest, so I'd say if we started to actively fundraise we could get a few angels by Q1 next year.​So what's so bad?​The team. We have trouble agreeing on anything. My co-founder has been working on start-ups for nearly a decade and he has anger issues. He yells a lot and doesn't listen to anybody when it comes to his team. He's absorbed in his phone, he's recently met someone online, and he's been focused on the content he posts online (down to the order of words in the post) and how he appears to his followers. When I push saying he needs to focus on our product he says that's him building an audience/following that'll be handy in the future and how he's also studying user behavior. I think he's lost it, and he tries to get off his phone, but he doesn't. One time I came over for 4 hours to work, of which we only spoke for 15 min because he was on his phone the entire time (yes, hours). I even left and he messaged me 2 hours later saying "where'd you go". Now, most of my time when I come over is spent on talking about if a post is "too forceful" or "is that funny?" or the girl he's crushing on. Mind you, this girl reads his messages but she doesn't respond to him, he's interpreting her saving messages as flirting back and her viewing his posts as a gesture of flirtation. I've told him he's wrong and there's nothing there, but he just says I'm crazy and don't understand it because they're both "real".​When it comes to product, he's a great mind but a horrible team worker. He's hypocritical and any changes suggested by anyone (me) he feels as if it's changing the product and ruining his own vision. Of the entire product, it's all his mind in terms of the decisions and design. Our growth rate isn't the greatest and he doesn't let anyone experiment to improve unless it is his own idea. If someone suggests anything he attacks the suggestion from every angle, but if it's his own he names calls everyone and no one has control at the end, so even if we all disagree he'll still do it. He's also gone a little crazy saying he's seeing signs everywhere and he's starting to base product decisions off of them. When countered, he just calls you crazy and how we don't understand (because he has a decade of experience). He still has not been successful with his start-up ventures.​I've been commuting 3 hours a day to work with him and my savings have gone from 12k to $400, I'm not sure I can do this anymore. He wants to change the entire core spirit of what we're building and that's not what I signed up for. I'm having conflict because he's also my friend (after being business partners) and I'm worried about him and his health. I feel if I leave he will feel like he has nothing left.​He's also been unproductive because of this addiction to social media. We're weeks behind on a new version and the work he's doing could have been completed in ~2 weeks yet we're touching 5 weeks now. When you question his lack of work he freaks out saying he's working on art and we can't rush it (though this is an excuse he gives every time he misses his self-imposed deadline).​I've tried speaking with him, and it just ends in yelling and me submitting because at the end of the day I can't do anything since I'm not the builder. After hours of digging, I feel like I get where he comes from but even then it's hard to be happy. Most of the time I just tell myself "this is the tough part of being in a start-up, most people die here. I won't let that happen" but is that a fallacy too?​All these books I read on stories of incredible products lead to two things:I draw similarities between the "visionaries" to my partner and think, well hey all the successful ones are crazy and my partner is a smart guy nonetheless.Wow, none of these books talk about how shitty they felt between their co-founders, most stick together and can have normal discussions. We can't even talk about anything because he's either zoned out, doesn't care (because he controls the company), and yeah, we don't have any actual meetings.​What do I do here? I know if I leave I can pick myself up and make opportunity elsewhere. On the other hand, I lose my start-up I've worked on the last two years and I'm not sure what would happen to my co-founder. I'd feel like I succumbed to the trough of despair every start-up goes through yet the other half of me says "no, this guy is a terrible partner, regardless of a great product".I do think he's a great product person. He knows how to build a great product, work well, and discuss things when he has had a full amount of sleep, doesn't smoke pot/cigarettes (he smokes pot every day), and takes it easy on the diet (he doesn't eat well). But those days are seldom, but when they do happen, they're great. If he was like that every day we would be leagues ahead of where we are now. I've told him this and he either gets sad or argues back, no change. I've threaten to leave and he gets quiet but doesn't change. Once I sent him a message saying we needed to have a serious conversation and he calls me multiple times because he gets nervous I'll leave, but doesn't change his habits.​Do I bare the feeling of un-ownership in order to possibly build a company or do I slowly get myself out?

[searchingwardrobes]

Natural Opposite: Re-post of 3/16

Many thanks again to my beta, @distant-rose, as well as my artist @optomisticgirl who made the amazing banner above. You can also check out her art for chapter two here: Chapter Two Art

Summary: Dance is more than Emma Swan’s career; it’s practically saved her life on more than one occasion. But when it comes to reality TV shows, she’s always danced in the shadows of her twin brother David and her sister Elsa. Her first season as a pro on Dancing With the Stars was a disaster, and she enters her second season determined to prove herself. All she needs is a good partner. Hollywood bad boy and ladies’ man Killian Jones isn’t what she had in mind.

Rating: M for mature themes, steamy dance routines, and sexy times (But NOT smut)

Trigger warnings: discussions of online solicitation of a minor, bullying, statutory rape, and emotionally abusive/controlling relationships; stalking; anti-Rumbelle, anti-Neal

Can also be read on A03

Tagging: (let me know if you want to be added to my tag list) @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @kday426 @bethacaciakay @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @winterbaby89 @followbatb @onceuponaprincessworld @hollyethecurious @ohmakemeahercules @sambethe

Chapter Three: Hips Don’t Lie

“Regina, what the hell?”

Regina swiveled her chair to face Emma, who had stormed into her office with absolutely no preamble. She folded her hands calmly on her desk and arched a finely penciled brow. “Well, good morning to you too, Ms. Swan.”

Emma just stood in front of the woman’s desk, hands on her hips, foot tapping impatiently. “Cut the crap, Regina. How dare you –“

Regina cut her off with a raised hand. “If you’re storming in here to complain about your partner, you can stop right there. Thank God we salvaged enough footage from your first meeting. You couldn’t have been more rude to the man if you tried!”

Emma rolled her eyes. “And he couldn’t have been more of a self-absorbed jerk if he tried.”

Regina leaned forward, her eyes lowering to angry slits. “Every other female pro would gladly take a lead pipe to your knee to have an A-list celebrity as a partner.”

“Save it, Regina that’s not why I’m here. He may be a pain in the ass, but I’m not going to complain.” She lowered her arms and sighed. “I know having him as a partner is a great opportunity. Although I am wondering why the hell a guy with such a successful career is doing a show like ours.”

Regina leaned back in her chair, tapping her perfectly manicured nails on the arm rests. “Well, this can’t go beyond this office, but the network will soon be announcing that season six will be Neverland’s last.”

Emma raised her eyebrows in surprise as she plopped down into a chair. “Seriously? But it’s their highest rated show.”

Regina shrugged. “The creators say they had an ending in mind, and they won’t risk the show’s integrity going beyond it.”

Emma nodded, thinking. She wasn’t a fan of the show, but everybody knew about last season’s finale. It was a two hour musical episode about Hook and Tinkerbell’s wedding. She had also seen TV insiders speculating that the show could only go downhill now that its most popular couple was married.

“So what’s that got to do with Killian Jones doing this show?” Emma finally asked.

“Well, you know his reputation.”

Emma snorted a laugh. “You mean the bad boy lady’s man? Yeah, from what I’ve seen it’s pretty accurate.”

“Right,” Regina nodded, “and so is his character, Captain Hook. He doesn’t want to be typecast as the lovable bad boy. He could have a great career after the show ends, or he could fade into obscurity like hundreds of others before him. He wants to use DWTS to change his image, show what else he can do. Prove to the industry that he has other sides.”

Emma scowled. “Or it could prove everyone right.”

Regina scowled right back. “Why are you here?”

Emma pressed her lips together in a thin, angry line. “The samba? Seriously?”

Regina laughed aloud as Emma’s anger mounted. Regina Mills was more involved in the show than most casting directors. Because of the nature of reality television, her title was more “cast relations” than simply finding the right celebrities to fill the roster. She supposedly ironed out issues and complaints, but she was mostly good at ensuring there was enough drama for ratings. Half the time, Emma thought she did more harm than good. On purpose.

“You’re seriously complaining about doing the samba with an attractive, successful actor?”

Emma dug her fingers into the leather seat. “Come on, Regina. No one gets the samba first. It’s the sex dance!”

Regina raised one finger. “Correction, that would be the rumba.”

Emma got to her feet, pacing and gesturing agitatedly. “Well, still, the samba is . . . is . . . intimate.” She stopped and whirled towards Regina again. “And don’t pretend. Everyone knows the standard week one dances: salsa, cha cha cha, the waltz.”

“That’s not an official policy.”

“It’s still what happens,” Emma hissed through clenched teeth, “and even a casual audience member knows it.”

“He’s sex on legs, Emma, it’s what the fans will want.”

Emma massaged her brow in frustration. “What if he has no rhythm and embarrasses himself?”

“Look at the man,” Regina insisted, “he’s got rhythm.”

“Just because a man’s attractive doesn’t mean he has rhythm! Or did you learn nothing from the underwear model fiasco?”

Regina stood quickly, Emma’s words having struck a nerve. She leaned one hand on her desk and wagged the other hand in Emma’s face. “Killian Jones was in a rock and roll band back in the UK. He has music in his blood. You’re doing the samba with him for week one. This discussion is closed.”

Regina took her seat with exaggerated calm, and Emma knew not to argue further. Yet she still couldn’t help getting in one more word before she stomped out of her office.

“We’ll see about that,” she snapped before slamming Regina’s door.

Emma knew what ran through the veins of a hot-blooded male like Killian Jones. And it wasn’t music.

**********************************************************

There was nothing more awkward than having a camera crew present when teaching choreography. Emma had felt this way even on So You Think You Can Dance. Of course, then she had been the amateur worried about looking awkward in front of famous choreographers that she had long idolized. It just wasn’t something you wanted recorded for television. And yet, by week four, she had grown accustomed to it. Even when learning styles so unfamiliar to her like hip hop or Bollywood. Gotten used to it just in time to be sent home, that is. David and Elsa both said that the experience on SYTYCD made them more sympathetic to what the celebrities went through on Dancing With the Stars. Emma agreed. In theory.

But then she had been thrust with Leroy. The man had no rhythm whatsoever. His hips were as awkward as a robot, doing this weird side to side jerky motion. He couldn’t remember even the simplest box step. When the time came for the live show, he completely forgot the choreography, and Emma sort of just danced around him.

All of that, however, could have been endearing if not for Leroy’s personality. He was lazy in rehearsals, taking constant breaks. He yelled at Emma when she tried to correct him. And he even had the audacity to tell Emma her choreography was “stupid” and accused her of trying to make him look bad on purpose. Emma had bit her tongue as much as possible, but Regina had to know it was a horrible match. Elsa’s calm demeanor or Ariel’s bubbly enthusiasm could have defused Leroy and possibly even made him likable. Either Regina wanted Leroy gone in the first elimination, or it was some sort of test. A test Emma failed miserably.

So as Emma headed for her first rehearsal with Killian Jones, she gave herself a pep talk. After such a horrible debut with Leroy, she really should be thankful for such an A list celebrity. And this time, she would rise to the challenge. She wouldn’t let this playboy’s flirting bring out her prickly side. She would pass this test, damn it, and prove herself to Regina and the show’s producers.

Emma was pleasantly surprised to find Killian already there when she arrived at the studio. She was also relieved to see him in sweatpants and a t-shirt; she had half expected him to show up still dressed like a model for GQ. She accepted the loose hug he gave her with a fake smile, knowing that the cameras were already rolling. But just when she thought maybe their first practice wouldn’t be so bad, he gave her an appreciative gaze and a wink.

“Looking lovely as ever, Swan.”

Emma rolled her eyes as she turned away from him. Her hair was in a sloppy ponytail, and she was wearing zero makeup. Her black capri yoga pants may have been skin tight, but her oversized t-shirt hung down covering her rear. The only thing remotely sexy about the way she looked was that the t-shirt had a wide neckline that hung off one shoulder to reveal the strap of her black sports bra. The man was a good actor, she would give him that much.

“Well,” she said after dropping her dance bag to the floor, “our first dance is . . .”

He lifted both eyebrows in anticipation. Emma’s pause was partly for dramatic effect and partly to brace herself for his reaction.

“. . . the samba.”

To her surprise, his face went slightly pale and he blinked rapidly a few times. “The samba? For week one? Isn’t that one of the more difficult dances?”

Emma smiled with relief that he hadn’t made some type of innuendo. “No, actually. The samba has a basic step with a quick, quick, slow rhythm. It looks harder than it is.”

She took his hands, placing one at her waist, and grasping the other with hers. One of the lucky things about the samba was that flaws in Killian’s frame would be masked with the side by side flicks and the rolls. The next half hour was the type of dull ballroom instruction that never made it into the show’s actual footage. Killian was a surprisingly diligent student, concentrating with a furrowed brow and his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. At one point, she couldn’t help laughing a little.

“What?” he asked, looking slightly offended.

Emma shook her head. “You can’t dance the whole thing looking at your feet, you know.”

He managed to laugh at himself, glancing down and away to the side. Emma couldn’t help noting how long his lashes were; they practically brushed the tops of his cheeks. He then lifted his gaze to meet hers and rolled his shoulders back.

“This better?”

“Much.”

Killian leaned forward and fake whispered in her ear, loud enough for the cameras to catch. “If you wanted to gaze into my eyes, all you had to do was ask.”

Okay, so maybe some of this footage would make it to air.

*********************************************************

“Now that you’ve gotten the basic samba footwork down, we need to work on the harder moves.”

Killian took a swig from his water bottle and gave her another wary expression. “Harder?”

“Well, yeah, we can’t just do the quick, quick, slow thing around and around in circles for a minute and a half. There’s the performance factor, too.”

Emma took him by the hand and pulled him close. She turned so her back was to his chest, then she pulled his left arm around her waist.

“Well, Swan, don’t stand on ceremony,” Killian said to her huskily, bending down so his breath ghosted across her neck.

Emma caught his gaze in the reflection of the mirror and rolled her eyes. “I’m trying to show you a body roll, genius.”

Her tone was harsher than it probably should have been, but Killian just laughed. She took his right hand in hers and first taught him how to do the samba steps backwards. He stumbled a few times, but after several minutes, he picked it up.

“Now,” Emma said, “here’s the tricky part. I’m going to lean back into you. You’ll lean with me, and will take that movement in a smooth circle as we walk backwards.”

Killian swallowed nervously, “That, uh, sounds a little like patting your head and rubbing your stomach at the same time.”

Emma laughed at the comparison, “Yeah, a little, so we’ll take it slow.”

She leaned back as she and Killian both stepped backwards. But when Emma rolled her body to the side, Killian suddenly got confused about where his feet were supposed to be. His right foot tangled with hers, and suddenly, they were both going down. He reached out and grabbed her around the waist as they fell, pulling Emma on top of him. He let out a loud breath as he hit the floor. Emma reached out with her hands and pushed herself up halfway. She shook her head and found herself gazing down at a grinning Killian.

“Sorry, love, I can be a tad clumsy.”

Emma was suddenly aware of his hands still at her waist, of their bodies’ still pressed against each other, and of the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. Suddenly, it felt as if she couldn’t breathe, and she scrambled hurriedly off him.

“I need five minutes,” she muttered as she hurriedly left the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Emma’s heart was pounding as she leaned forward against the wall in the hallway. She glanced nervously behind her and was relieved that the cameras hadn’t followed her. She took deep breaths through her nose, then slowly exhaled through her mouth. She remembered a pair of brown eyes that also crinkled at the corners. What can a klutz like me do to get a dance lesson? Emma bit her lip and shook her head. No, she wasn’t letting her mind go there. She squared her shoulders and turned back towards the studio.

She also wasn’t going to be taken in by seemingly nervous smiles and flirting. Not again.