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lubdubsworld · 3 years

Text

Change of Heart ( TaehyungxOC) (Chapter 6)

Pairing : Taehyung x OC Werewolf AU!!

Genre : Romance, Explicit Content.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3/ Chapter 4/ Chapter 5

[ Summary :

Times are changing.

After years of being oppressed, werewolves are taking a stand against humans , demanding equal rights and fair treatment. Heading the movement is Kim Taehyung, the breathtaking heir to the Kim fortune and one of the few remaining Alpha werewolves in the country. His disdain for the human race is well known and well warranted. They killed his family after all…..

He wants to change the world , to put humans in their place but when his five year old daughter takes a shine to their very human neighbor , maybe he has to start with a change of heart , first. ]

Warnings : Get ready for the unsexiest sex in the history of sex. werewolf sex, knotting etc

You can completely skip this chapter if it makes you uncomfortable .

Literally nothing happens except that they mate.

Chapter 6

“Luna is staying with Jimin for a week. Jimin’s sister and her kids are home so he’s sure she’ll be fine.” Taehyung said, when I asked him about the young girl.

I nodded, slightly disappointed because I loved her and was looking forward to seeing her.

Although I suppose he probably didn’t want her to be around when he was doing....well whatever it was that he intended to do to me. I felt my pulse raise, the first tendrils of fear and panic beginning to weave through my veins.

“You look terrified.” Taehyung commented mildly, fingers curled gently around my elbow as he led me to where his car was parked. I swallowed.

“I am terrified.” I pointed out.” I have no idea what I just agreed to.”

Taehyung hummed, fumbling with his car key and a second later the lights in a swanky black car , a little bit ahead of us, flashed with a familiar beep. Taehyung’s car looked as expensive as it probably was, black and sleek .

“Is this the car you choose anytime you’re seducing unwilling humans?” I teased.

I stared at the glossy metallic finish, the swanky lights that lit up along the car’s sharp and beautiful lines and my eyes caught the small exquisitely detailed silver wolf, carefully mounted on the bonnet.

“Hmm....no one has been unwilling , so far.” Taehyung’s eyes danced with mischief.

I rolled my eyes at that, handing over my carry-all bag when he held his hand out for it.

“This isn’t what I would have chosen for myself.” He moved to open the boot space, lifting the small suitcase I’d packed and stowing it inside carefully.

I stared at him wondering what he was talking about.

“Someone like you...for a mate.” He pointed out and I wondered if he even heard the insult .

“Someone like me for the rest of your life?” I gave him a dry smile.

He closed the boot sharply, the sound making me jump a little.

His gaze was intense, lush lips twisted in a frown.

“A human ...for the rest of my life.” He corrected. I felt a pang of hurt at that. It was somehow worse, knowing that I was just interchangeable with every other human of his acquaintance . He moved closer to me, reaching past me to touch the sensor on his key to the door.

The door opened when he touched the handle, arms brushing my body as he leaned in close to me and I flinched back instinctively..

He gave me a look.

“Sorry...I’m just a little on edge.”

He sighed.

“I won’t hurt you.” His voice was steady and firm , his gaze calm and soothing as he stared at me and for the millionth time, I found myself utterly enthralled by his beauty. The perfect , sharp as a blade jawline, flawless skin and sharp, bewitching eyes.

“I think.... you know that’s a lie.” I smiled a little. He had the good grace to look a little contrite. He stepped back a bit to give me space to get in.

“It’s not a lie.”

I tilted my head and stared at him.

“Really? You’re telling me a human mating a wolf isn’t going to do a number on the human? ”

Taehyung frowned, thick eyebrows furrowing.

“It’s not going to leave any permanent damage.”

I let out a slightly strangled laugh.

“How comforting!”

Taehyung shrugged.

“ It is how it is. Mating is..... an ancient ritual. Something that we’ve been doing for centuries. At the heart of it, it is something animalistic and feral because it isn’t the human part of me that’s going to be involved. And my wolf isn’t familiar with being gentle. I can’t promise he won’t hurt you but I can promise that I will help fix what he breaks.”

What he breaks, I thought with a slightly hysterical flash of trepidation. His wolf was going to break ....what exactly?

He must’ve caught the look on my face.

“I think I could have worded that better.” He muttered.

My tongue felt like sandpaper in my mouth.

“I’m just wondering if perhaps , a week from now, I’m going to prefer being shot in the shoulder, to having sex with you.” I croaked out.

His lips quirked at that.

“Not unless being shot in the shoulder gave you multiple orgasms.....no.” His eyes flashed red, boring holes into mine and my lips parted in a soft gasp.

Arousal shot straight through my center, hot and heavy and I felt the blood rush to my face so abruptly that I was momentarily lightheaded. Feeling a bit like there was steam gushing out of my ears, I dropped my gaze away from him, down to his knees and then turned away, face flaming.

I moved to the open door, ready to climb in hide but Taehyung moved quickly, gripping my arm and pulling me around till I crashed into his chest.

“Tae-” I broke off when he reached out to gently cup my face, thumb brushing across my lower lip in a gentle caress.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispered, smiling gently, “ I find you incredibly desirable and I intend to show you that when you’re in my bed. The fact that my wolf also approves of you will only make the whole thing more enjoyable for you. Trust me, I’ve never had any complaints before.”

Certain that I was probably the same shade as a ripe tomato, I yanked my hand away from him, turning around and stumbling to the door. I got into the car quickly, slamming the door shut. I could hear him chuckling lightly outside as he finished putting away the rest of my bags.

I tugged on the seatbelt with shaky fingers, trying not to overthink. I felt torn, confused. Like he was toying with me. He was so carefully vague about what he wanted and what he felt , it was impossible to understand him. I watched the seat belt click into place and the sat back to stare straight ahead.

The driver’s door opened and Taehyung climbed in, powering the vehicle and slipping his belt on in one smooth move before letting his fingers play across the backlit dashboard. Soft music began crooning through the speakers and he carefully adjust the mirrors manually before gripping the steering wheel and carefully easing the care out of the parking lot.

“We’ll pick up a few supplies on the way.” He commented mildly.

“Supplies?”

“Medical supplies.”

I felt my pulse jump again.

“I’m beginning to regret this immensely.” I whispered, fingers digging into my thigh as I willed myself to not scream.

Taehyung turned to give me a look.

“you do know, I’d have to bite you, right?”

I felt my jaw come unhinged.

“I...you... what?!”

Taehyung groaned.

“please don’t freak out. “ H’s voice deepened, probably in an attempt to be soothing, “ It’s just a small bite. It won’t be that deep or anything but it will leave a mark. It’s supposed to. Kind of a sign that you’re mated.”

I stared at him , dread pooling in the pit of my stomach and making me feel mildly nauseous.

“Would it.. Would i... ?” I couldn’t even finish it.

Taehyung looked confused for a second and then his face went completely blank.

“No.” He said shortly.

“No, I -?”

“No, you won’t turn into a fucking werewolf, Jesus Christ” He snapped furiously,” Do you really think I’m gonna turn you into a were without your fucking consent? “

I felt myself sinking back into the plush leather seat in the face of his anger.

The air was heavy with a tense silence for a few minutes and then he sighed loudly, breath leaving him in an exhale.

“I’m.... I’m sorry. I know this is frightening for you and I’m grateful that you’re here. I want... Fuck. I want to make this... good for you. And if not good at least ...bearable. “

I stared down at my shoes.

“I’m just... I feel scared because I don’t know what I’m walking into.”

I looked up when the car slowed down and I noticed he was pulling into the parking lot of an all night mart of some kind. I watched as he carefully pulled in between two smaller cars .

“You wanna come in with me? Or would you rather wait here?” He asked casually.

“I’ll...I’ll stay here.”

He hummed and kept the air conditioner and the music running , moving out of the car . I watched him leave , his tall suave figure earning him dazzled looks from the people in the parking lot.

I watched as nearly every single woman in the place ogled him, taking in the perfectly tailored slacks, the silk shirt and his striking good looks. He looked a little rakish today, having run a hand through his hair earlier and even from a distance, there was no doubting that he was one of the most gorgeous men in the entire country.

And no one in their right mind would think he was anything but an alpha, I thought balefully, watching the way he stalked across the tarmac, his gait predatory and focused. People stepped out of his way instinctively. No one met his gaze head on and I knew exactly why.

Staring at Taehyung was like staring down an apex predator.

Even the dumbest of men wouldn’t be dumb enough to provoke someone who looked like that.

i caught my own reflection in the mirror and felt myself shrink in on myself.

I wasn’t ugly.

Far from it.

I could even be beautiful if I had a couple of hours and access to some good beauty products. But I wasn’t werewolf level beautiful. I couldn’t think of a single quality in me that would qualify me to be Kim Taehyung’s significant other. I remembered the model he had been dating, Ji hyun. She had been so beautiful. Tall and lissome with perfectly sculpted features.

in what world could I compete with that?

And What about.... the emotional connection?

I groaned at the very though of it.

Love was such an abstract thing to define but I wasn’t a cynic. I could imagine myself being in love with Taehyung, falling for him and in fact, I was pretty sure that I was already half way there already.

I had wanted him to be interested in me when he had asked me to look after Luna. Had wanted that hot and heavy gaze on me, had wanted him to touch me, with less than pure intentions. But it had still been just a crush, albeit a big one.

Back then, I had convinced myself to forget about it because of the sheer impossibility of it ever happening. But now, my traitorous heart was beginning to whisper little phrases of hope at me.

What if he likes you too....

What if he fell in love with you too....

I had to tamp down that voice before it grew any louder, I thought miserably. Did I not remember how he had looked, when he’d asked me to come with him? Like he was being held at gunpoint?

The door clicked open again and I blinked. Taehyung opened the rear door and tossed a few bags on the seat there before the slamming the door shut and climbing in next to me.

“I’ve asked the house keeper to stock the pantry and get the rooms cleaned. The staff won’t be around for a week so I would have to make sure it doesn’t get too filthy.”

“I can help... to cook and clean.” I said quickly.

He hesitated before smirking a little.

There was something feral in the smile, something lewd and suggestive and I felt myself blushing although I had no idea why.

“What? Why are you looking at me that way....”

He shrugged.

“I just think its cute that you think that.”

I frowned, not at all sure what he was implying.

“What does that even mean? What am I thinking that’s so ridiculous.?”

“It cute that you think that you can still move around after getting fucked by an alpha werewolf on his rut. “ His eyes fairly danced with amusement and I felt my jaw drop.

“You- That's- “ I was momentarily incoherent with how much his words had scrambled my brain, “ ... ...How dare you!” I finished in a hash whisper.

He laughed out loud at that.

“I’m supposed to be selling this whole mating thing to you . I think I’m doing a bad job of it.” He shook his head, before starting the engine again.

I didn’t reply, my cheeks hurting from the effort it took not to scream.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I held the bags carefully, while a couple of young men carried over my suitcases into the elevator. Taehyung was leaning on the counter at the reception desk and the girl behind the desk was making moon-eyes at him.

"Mr. Kim, we’ve already spoken to the other residents. The penthouse suit if off limits for the rest of the week as you requested. Your daughter’s nanny was here earlier and she said she’ll bring Luna back when you ask her to.”

Taehyung nodded.

“Excellent. This is my fiance, Yoon Mi Rae.” He said casually and I flushed at the phrase.

“Oh, fiance?” The woman made no effort to hide the disappointment and disbelief on her face. I smiled weakly.

“Yes. Surprised?” He chuckled and I frowned when the girl laughed too.

“Never thought you would go for a human, Tae.” She tilted her head .

The nickname surprised me. So they were close, then?

“ Sometimes life surprises you that way.”

I sighed, turning away at the words. I tamped down the urge to yell at him that I didn’t particularly savor the thought of being mated to him either. That given a choice I would rather be with a man who actually wanted me.

But that wasn’t why I had agreed to this whole thing was it? Taehyung’s cause was bigger than both of us. My father was doing something illegal and damaging and he had to be stopped.

That was what this was about.

If I lost sight of that bigger picture and focused on the little things, then I would likely be miserable for a long long time.

Little things like the fact that Taehyung had absolute no interest in falling in love with a human.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The apartment was spacious and decorated s tastefully that I couldn’t help but stop and stare. It was very obvious that Taehyung had painstakingly picked the decor out himself. A few Van Gogh paintings hung on one of the walls and the entire living space was done in muted tones of beige and also colors of rich mahogany brown with lush red and maroon trinkets for relief.

Taehyung directed the med to leave the suitcases in the master bedroom and then once they left, he carefully closed the door behind them.

I heard the sound of the lock clicking in place and slowly, the dread from earlier returned.

“Do you drink?” Taehyung asked casually, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it on the couch., I watched him move to the massive fridge in the kitchen, and felt my lips trembling a bit.

“Just- Just water.” I said softly.

He grabbed a few bottles of water and carefully poured me a glass. He looked up then and his gaze caught mine.

Feeling incredibly vulnerable, I merely stared back.

“Are you hungry?” He asked gently.

I shook my head.

He nodded, stepping out from behind the counter and walking over , holding out the glass of water. I took it from him cautiously and took a sip.

“We need to talk about this. I don’t... I don’t want you to be blindsided by anything that happens tomorrow. “

Tomorrow.

“Okay. I’m listening. “ I took a few more sips of the water and he carefully took the glass from me.

I moved to sit on the couch but he stopped me with a hand to my arm.

“Do you dance?” He said casually.

I blinked.

“Dance?”

He smiled and snapped his fingers a couple of times.

I gasped when the lights in the living space dimmed down not turning off entirely but bathing the entire room in hues of gold . The light made him look ten times more enthralling and the soft smile on his face made me want to weep. If I had been half in love earlier, I’d certainly fallen the entire way down in that damned smile.

“I think you should get used to my body first.” He smiled and stepped closer, gently wrapping one arm around my waist before grabbing my wrist and guiding it to his shoulder. I curled my fingers tentatively, feeling my pulse pound at the smoothness of the silk and the underlying strength of his muscles. I brushed my fingers gently against his shoulder blades, stroking down to his pecs and stopping when my palm rested right over his heart.

“You like that?” He smiled, “ Because I certainly do” and there was no hint of teasing there, just genuine pleasure and in the face of such honestly, I couldn’t help but blush.

“You’re.... big.” I finished , feeling my face flame.

He nodded.

“I am. Everywhere. its probably going to be a bit of a problem for you later.” He smiled and pulled a small square remote from his pocket.

Music began to spill into the air from the speakers and I laughed at the song.

“ I was made for loving you” Tori Kelly’s beautiful voice crooned and I shook my head.

“You are good at this, Alpha Kim.” I said softly. “Is this the part where your conquests begin taking off their clothes?”

He hummed and began to move, one hand curving around my waist and the other lightly resting on my back. I swayed with him, enjoying the gentle intimacy.

“I actually prefer doing that myself.” He smirked and I nodded, relaxing a bit. Taehyung was likeable, not an asshole by any stretch of the imagination and surprisingly humble considering the kind of wealth he had at his disposal.

I liked him deeply and while it was obvious he thought he had to handle me like fine china, the truth was I wasn’t even half as scared as I ought to have been.

“You’re pretty calm now. You were..... very would up earlier.” I pointed out.

He hummed, his fingers tracing up and down my back before resting at the base of my spine, thumb gentle as it stroked my skin through the fabric of my dress.

“I can control it easier because you’re right here. My wolf is calm because you’re in my arms. And my rut probably won’t start till I’m ... well , for a few hours at least. “

I nodded.

“How do you know its starting?” I asked, curious.

He gave me a grin.

“Oh trust me you’ll know.” He muttered, pulling me slightly closer till I was pressed right up against his body, hips pressing into me gently. I felt the hard press of his erection and even with the layers of fabric between us I could tell how well endowed he was and I stilled, backing away a little.

“I’m.... Sorry, I...” I whispered.

But he grabbed my wrists, tugging me back gently.

“Don’t apologize. Its alright. You need to get used to me. Like this, I can watch how you react and back off when I want but later...I may not be that coherent. I just want you be comfortable before we start anything. “ He said softly, fingers fluttering down to link with mine.

“Are you saying you won’t stop if i ask you to?”

Taehyung hesitated.

“No...if you’re actually hurting or in danger , I’ll know and I will stop. But my wolf probably won’t stop if its just you getting cold feet and you aren’t in any real danger from me. “

I looked away, not feeling very reassured. The bigger picture, I reminded myself. I wasn’t here for a good time. I was here because he needed me and not the other way around.

Taehyung took my silence for disapproval and gently touched my face, eyes wide with apology.

“I’m sorry.” He said calmly, “ Wolves have....different moral codes and that's probably why its incredibly rare for a wolf to mate with a human.”

“What do you think happened with us?” I asked him, “ You obviously need a were in your life. So why did your wolf pick me?”

He didn’t reply.

“Is this permanent?”

“For me, yes. For you, no.”

“What does that mean?”

“When you leave here , you can go back to your old life. You can probably meet another guy and get married if you want. I however would not be able to have another relationship...”

I felt my jaw drop.

“That’s....” i began but he shook his head.

“It’s alright. I’m not a huge fan of relationships. I have my work and Luna. My life is complete as is.”

There was nothing much to say to that.

“You wanna go to bed now?” He asked quietly .

I smiled at how nervous he looked.

“Lead the way.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taehyung’s bedroom was almost surgical suite clean and also incredibly huge. The large four poster bed had huge ornate frames and I felt my eyes redden when I saw the handcuffs neatly cuffed to the lowest rung.

Taehyung followed my gaze and smiled.

“Ah. Thats just a precaution.”

“you want to put me in handcuffs?” i blurted out and he laughed.

“No...I’ll be the one in the handcuffs. When I’m knotting you, my claws are going to pop and I don’t want to hurt you accidentally. The handcuffs will make sure that my hands stay off you.”

“Okay.... “

He moved around the room, casually fixing the lights , turning most of them off and leaving only a couple of lamps near the bed on.

“Would you like to shower?” He prompted. “ I bought... well, there's a nightgown in the bathroom that you could wear. Only if you want to .... No pressure.”

Nightgown?

I nodded and moved to the attached bath .

“the towels are in the cupboard.” He called out behind me when I closed the door.

I stared around at the bathroom which was almost as large as the living space. A bathtub stood in the corner and it looked large enough to hold three people comfortably. A shower stall stood on the left and I quickly stripped out of my clothes and moved to the shower.

The buttons took a little time for me to figure them out but the hot water on my body was a welcome relief. The water helped loosen my muscles and the slight twinge in my shoulder was almost fully gone.

I wrapped myself in a fluffy towel and noticed the white box , tied together with a satin ribbon. I opened it carefully half expecting something scandalous.

It wasn’t.

I pulled out the plain white cotton nightgown, and it looked especially fragile.

Confused but willing to indulge him, I slipped it on quickly, brushing my teeth and fluffing my hair before stepping out.

Taehyung was half naked on the bed and I froze near the bathroom. He was wearing just a pair of boxers which did nothing to hide his arousal.

“You alright , sweetheart?” He said gently and the nickname made my teeth hurt.

“Umm...yeah. So...we’re just doing this then?”

“I think its starting...” He said tiredly.

I startled.

“You said... I thought it was tomorrow..?”

“Guess the guy doesn’t wanna wait that long.” Taehyung muttered tiredly and his eyes flashed red.

But it didn’t fade back to chestnut brown, the way it usually did.

Instead the irises stayed red, like a ruby , glinting across the distance between us as he stared me down. .

I could feel the hysteric fear beginning to build and I fought to keep it down. It was okay... He was an Alpha and so his eyes flashed red... that’s all. Jungkook’s eyes had flashed red plenty of times when we were together.

“Come here.” He patted his lap.

“Okay. “ I squeaked.

Feet leaden, I walked over to the bed , climbing over carefully and then scooting across the clean white sheets to reach him. i stayed kneeling near him.

He was staring at me expectantly.

“Oh, you want me to sit there?” I pointed at his lap.

He looked amused.

“If it isn’t too much of a bother.” He said primly.

Stop acting like its your first time.

I yelled at myself internally before throwing one leg over his thighs, raising myself up to hover over him. Taehyung grabbed the back of my thighs. gripping me hard through the flimsy night gown and yanked me forward till I was seated right on his hardness.

I grabbed his shoulders to steady myself, staring down into his red eyes as he smiled, a slow calculating grin.

"You're beautiful. I had more than my fair share of dirty dreams about you when we first met." He confessed softly, and I felt pleasure bloom inside me at the shallow compliment. Whatever, no compliment was bad if it came from a guy like Taehyung.

“I’m sure anyone who meets you has the same compulsion,” I pointed out and he chuckled.

“I wanted to talk to you about tonight. It isn’t because I want to scare you but because I don’t want to blindside you when it happens. Humans aren’t built to take a knot. They just aren’t. I’m going to go out on a limb and say you haven’t tried anything ....along those lines before?” He asked carefully.

I shook my head.

“The only were I’ve slept with is Jungkook and he never-”

Taehyung snarled, so sudden and uncalled for that I nearly toppled over. A ripping sound near my waist made me balk, and I stared down at my side, where one incredibly sharp claw had popped , tearing cleanly through the fabric of the nightgown.

“fuck... I’m sorry... Are you okay?” He whispered urgently, the claw retracting and I could only cling to him, shaking a bit.

“Um....” I stared at him and there was a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead like he’d run a mile. I realized he was struggling to control his wolf, eyes flashing red intermittently. “ Are you alright, Tae?” I asked him, pressing a palm to his chest . He grabbed my wrist before pressing a kiss to the inside of it.

Taehyung gave me a strangled smile.

“Perhaps, you shouldn’t mention other wolves you’ve slept with when you’re with me,” He suggested and I felt my head swim.

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I’ve always thought possessiveness is a pathetic thing to feel for someone but unfortunately as an alpha it pretty much defines my wolf.” He grimaced.

I reached out, carefully tracing my thumb across his forehead, dabbing up a bit of the sweat gathered there before wiping it on my gown.

“I’m sure you have other redeeming qualities.” I shrugged , grinning and he smiled in return, hands coming up to gently cup my face leading me down for a soft kiss.

The pillowy softness of his lips completely threw me off and I moaned into the kiss, one arm hooking around his neck so I could kiss him better. He tasted heady and minty and altogether delicious, tongue tracing the seam of my lips before slipping in.

There was something incredibly gentle about how he kissed, so at odds with how he behaved when he let his wolf take over and the dichotomy of it was so fascinating to me.

Kim Taehyung with his soft subtly seductive words, his gentle touches and patient kisses was also Alpha Kim, the wolf with ruby red eyes, blood lust and violence in his gaze when he was threatened.

When he pulled back I was panting and almost in a trance.

“I wanted to help you get through tonight without being too hurt. Is that okay?”

I gave him a bemused smile.

“No, I’d rather you put me through immense pain.” I said drily.

His eyes narrowed at the sarcasm, and he lightly spanked my thigh. I flinched at the sharp pain, gone before I could fully process it but the delicious heat from the impact stayed, thrumming under my skin.

“Vixen.” He growled.

I quieted down, watching him expectantly.

“Why don’t you lie down?” He gave my hips a small squeeze.

I quickly climbed off him, sinking into the mattress and carefully lying down .

“I’ll be back. Give me a second.”

I watched as he carefully climbed off the bed , my gaze drawn to his naked back, the strong width of his shoulders and the way it tapered to his waist. The silk of his boxers left nothing to the imagination and I had to look away, gripping the sheets and breathing evenly through my nose just to curb the urge to whimper.

Muscle memory is a hell of a thing, I thought desperately, feeling my thighs begin to tingle. Naked man, dim lighting and bed equaled sex in my mind and my body was responding easily to the atmosphere and Taehyung’s gorgeous body was just an added bonus.

He grabbed something from the cupboard and a bottle from the dresser and I stared, curious as he made his way over.

“Have you ever dabbled with ....bdsm?” He asked casually , tossing the bottle up and catching it easily. I stared at his long , long fingers, the way they looked, gripping the surface.

I felt myself flush from the top of my head all the way down to the soles of my feet.

“Uh... A couple of times. I was really young.” I said hastily. “ He was...uh..well he was older and...”

“Don’t worry about it. I just didn’t want you to get scared. You’ve been in subspace then?” He was making his way over and I could feel nervousness build. It took a me a second to process what he’d just asked.

I hesitated.

“It... I was too scared to fully let go..” I admitted. “ I fall easily and it terrified me because I didn’t fully trust him .”

Taehyung hummed, moving closer to me and carefully placing a strip of black cloth on the pillow next to my head. He dropped the bottle on the mattress and knelt on the edge, next to me, stroking the hair back from my face and smiling.

“I understand. Do you feel that way with me, too? If you do, we can think of some other way to do this. “

I felt my eyes flutter shut at the gentle touch of his fingers.

“I trust you.” I said softly.

He nodded.

“It’s nothing intense , I swear. I just want to blindfold you. And then maybe a little bit of impact play...i noticed you liked that....” His lips quirked.

I blushed , nodding. He picked up the dark strip of cloth, stretched it between his fingers, testing the give of the material.

“The blindfold is going to help keep you grounded. No distractions, yeah? I want you to follow my voice and feel my touch, don’t think about anything else ....is that clear?”

I nodded.

“Words, angel.” He said gently.

My toes curled at the endearment.

“Uh... Yes.”

“Yes, sir.” He corrected gently.

I felt my body run hot and cold all at once, lips parting and throat going dry.

“S-Sorry?”

Taehyung chuckled gently and I jumped when he gently placed the blindfold over my eyes, the world dissolving in black before me as he carefully tied the strip behind .

Once it was secured, I felt the gentle touch of his finger across my cheeks.

“It’s not just about you tonight, is it, pet?” His voice had dipped lower, the drawl more pronounced. “ Don’t you think I deserve to feel good too?”

I almost sat up , nervous and jittery because I couldn’t see him and I startled when cool hands gripped my waist and shoulder, holding me down.

“What’s wrong, angel?”

I swallowed.

“Nothing.. I... I’m sorry. “

“Colour?”

I blanked out for a second.

“Red for stop, yellow if you want me to slow down and green if you’re okay to continue, angel.” He said gently.

I nodded again.

“Words, angel. I need you to use your words at all times.”

“Yes...” I whispered.

“Yes?” He prompted.

“Yes sir.” I answered quietly.

“Good girl.” He whispered and I felt the light touch of his lips against mine. I felt my breathing even out at the gentle caress. Fingers fluttered over my hand and I felt him gently loosen my grip on the sheets.

He gripped my wrist gently and moved it over my shoulder.

“I want your hand over your shoulder at all times. Can you do that for me? If you can’t , I can restrain them for you.”

I was already moving them down almost unconsciously. He hummed, pulling my wrist back up and I flushed. I wasn’t going to be able to do that.

“Please ..tie them up for me.” I whispered.

He didn’t reply and I felt him move away , my body suddenly cold from his absence , and I took deep steadying breaths. I felt myself relaxing against the covers, lips parting as I stopped trying to hold my hands up, just letting them rest on the pillows , limbs loose.

The touch of something silky to my wrists, made me jump, but fingers pressed my hips, stroking gently.

“Shush....its okay , baby. Let me just take care of you, yeah?” Taehyung’s voice came from right near my ear and I exhaled.

“Yes sir.” I whispered and he laughed softly, the sound mellifluous against my lobe.

“Now you’re learning. ” He pressed another kiss to the corner of my mouth, lips slightly wet and forceful as he breathed , “ Good girl.” and I felt the words all over me, like euphoria in my veins, spreading to every part of me.

It was blissful, the way warmth spread through me, my limbs going lax as I felt him carefully tie my wrists to the bed post, the thought if tugging on them didn’t even cross my mind.

All I wanted to do was to stay here forever, my head clear and thoughts practically nonexistent. It was like nothing existed, except for the endless dark I was in and the touch of his fingers on me. The music of his voice as he whispered praise against my skin.

I felt bereft when he moved away but he was back before I could fully miss him.

“I’m going to touch you baby.....Going to make you feel good. Is that okay?”

“Yes sir.”

“Perfect.”

I heard the pop of a bottle opening.

I felt the bed dip as he climbed on, kneeling near my legs.

A few seconds later, fingers lightly gripped my ankle, warm and smooth. lifting my foot up and placing it on his lap.

My lips parted in a filthy moan when he dug his fingertips into my ankle, smoothing out the skin and pain blossomed where he squeezed, the muscles protesting as he gently massaged the knots away.

“I’m going to get familiar with your body first.... wanna know what makes you feel good.”

“Okay Tae....” I breathed out.

A sharp spank on my thigh made me jolt in surprise and I gasped, heat licking its way up my leg and making me clench my thighs together . The pain was sharp and stinging and it made my eyes water just a bit.

“That’s not what you’re supposed to call me, is it pet?” He sounded annoyed and I felt myself scrambling to apologize.

“No..I’m sorry ... sir.. I’m...”

“I’m being very patient with you , pet. Next time, I won’t stop with one.”

I nodded before quickly remembering.

“Yes sir.”

He hummed and went back to massaging my feet, first one then the other. I relaxed against the pillows, feeling my eyes grow heavy as he worked his magic on me and time became insignificant.

I didn’t know how long I’d laid there and it was only when his hands moved up, past my knee, across my thighs and then closer my inner thighs that I began to come to myself.

“Can I take your panties off baby....” He whispered, voice hoarse.

I was breathing through my mouth, slightly dizzy.

“Yes, sir.” I whispered. Fingers hooked on the edged of the fabric, tugging my underwear down and off me swiftly. Somehow everything inside me shifted when I felt him against my skin. The soothing pleasure disappeared, replaced by apprehension .

“Beautiful .” He whispered and I swallowed, nervous and scared.

I opened my mouth to speak but the words wouldn’t come.

“What’s wrong angel? You alright?” He asked urgently.

I swallowed again.

“I’m...Sir... I... what are you... I want...” I couldn’t get my thoughts in order and the panic rose again.

“Its okay baby... tell me what’s wrong?” He whispered gently, and I bit my lips.

“Red.... I... I’m not... I can’t ....”

He moved away at once and a second later, the blindfold came off . i blinked at the dim light and Taehyung was kneeling right next to me, worry clouding his eyes .

“You okay?” He whispered.

“Can you ....on top of me? I’m just.. I feel so cold.” I whispered.

Taehyung smiled, wide before nodding.

“That’s fine. Anything for you...”

The next second, I felt him move on top of me, hot and warm, heavy and firm and solid as he pressed into me. I wanted to touch him, to reach out and grip him and anchor myself because I felt like I was about to float away.

“Should I take the restraints' off?, “ Taehyung read my mind so swiftly , it left me reeling. “ Do you wanna touch me?” He whispered and I nodded.

“Okay... as you wish baby...we’re doing it your way... okay?”

“Okay...sir.”

“You can call me Tae....” He said warmly and I felt myself relax a bit more. He pulled on the restraints quickly and my wrists dropped to the bed t once, my shoulder beginning to throb a little but even the pain was muted, barely there.

He massaged my wrists gently, pressed a kiss to them and I felt affection bloom inside me along with regret.

“I’m sorry...” I whispered.

Taehyung glanced at me in surprise and shook his head.

The first time isn’t going to be perfect. It happens.” He kissed me again, gently but firmly, fingers fluttering down my waist .

“First time?” I grinned. “ Wow I didn’t know I was your first, Alpha Kim.”

“First time with each other , brat.” He lightly spanked my hips and I yelped.

“I’m beginning to think, this whole spanking thing is more for you, than me...” I wrinkled my nose.

Taehyung grinned.

“I prefer paddles and whips actually. “ He said coolly and I felt my heart leap to my throat.

“I-”

“Don’t worry... only with absolutely willing partners.” He winked.

And then he groaned, eyes flashing red.

“Fuck....” He groaned.

“What’s wrong...?” I whispered, worried.

“Can I touch you... I think... It’s ... My wolf... “ He muttered and I smiled wrapping both arms around his next and drawing him down for a kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Is this okay....? Fuck...” Taehyung grunted and I keened as his fingers slipped in deeper, stroking and searching and I blinked away tears, face pressed into the pillow as I lay face down on the bed. Taehyung was on me, finger fucking me so well that I’d already cum twice and now my limbs weren’t functioning at all.

“Okay...just please....” I groaned when another finger traced my entrance and a sob got wrenched out of me when he dipped it in lightly.

“Doing so well for me baby, taking my fingers so well... Can’t wait to see you wrapped around my knot....gonna claim you and fuck you so well, my pretty , pretty pet...” He pushed the fourth finger in and the stretch made me wail.

Taehyung had a filthy , filthy mouth and everything he said made me want to cry. The stretch of four fingers was too much and I had to grit my teeth, breathe through my mouth just to stay in my senses. I took deep shuddering breaths, willing myself not to start sobbing.

“I’m so sorry... “ He kept apologizing, alternating the push and pull of his fingers with wet, messy kisses along my shoulder. I groaned , eyes heavy as I tried to stay conscious.

“..’s too much...” I slurred, my eyes wet with tears and lashes damp.

“Just a bit more... I don’t wanna hurt you when I... when we ... please baby...just hold on a little yeah...” Taehyung sounded desperate.

I sobbed out in protest when his fingers went in deeper, cleaving my insides and trying to make room where there was none. It went on for a few minutes and then his thumb was brushing my clit, lightly , barely a brush and I was cumming again, clamping around his fingers so hard that I felt like I was crumbling on the inside.

“Okay.... “ Taehyung kept his fingers inside me, soothing me through the tremors., “ I think... It’s okay... I think this should work.” He pressed one last kiss to my shoulder and I made to turn over but he held my shoulders down.

“Let’s do it like this, angel.... It’ll hurt less.” He whispered and then he was pulling his fingers out , spreading my thighs apart so he could lie in between and I whimpered at the emptiness, feeling like I’d stepped right off a cliff , but before I could hit bottom and shatter, he was on me, grounding me, gripping me tight as he pressed his hardness against me.

“You ready?” He whispered.

I managed a weak nod and a second later he pushed in .

It felt a little like being stabbed straight through, only a million times more pleasurable.

And then he was gripping my waist, lifting me up and moving me till I was on all fours, staring at the rungs of his four poster bed. He moved his hips gently, pulling out just a bit before pushing back in and I felt my eyes roll back in my head.

He was so fucking big even the four fingers felt like too little of a stretch.

His hands came around to grasp the lower rung of the bed.

“Put the handcuffs on me .” He said from behind me and I exhaled harshly, trying not to collapse into the bed as I fumbled with the metal restraints. My head felt heavy, my body thrumming with adrenaline and exhaustion and I could feel the messy wetness between my thighs, dripping down the length of my legs and pooling on the soft white sheets.

When the handcuffs had locked both his wrists in place he shuddered behind me. He was so big inside me that I couldn’t even clench down on him, my inner walls stretched so wide around him that I felt like I was inch away from coming apart.

“We’re doing this... any last wishes?”

I smiled despite myself , shaking my head.

“Is it too late to say I don’t put out on the first date?” I choked out and his laughter, warm and inviting flooded my senses, a better aphrodisiac than the hour long foreplay he’d subjected me to.

“Is it too early to say that I want to do this to you, everyday for the rest of our lives.” He whispered and I felt my eyes widen in shock, the confession so unexpected that I actually nearly pulled away from him.

But before I could fully relish what I’d just heard, he was gripping the bed hard and pulling out before shoving right back in.

“Oh, God...” I choked out as he fucked into me, each thrust carefully sharp and strong. He had insane control over his hips, the steady staccato of his body hitting the back of my thigh, loud and incessant in the quiet darkness.

“Touch yourself for me baby..... come on make yourself cum so I can make you mine...” He said harshly and I felt the warm wetness of his lips against my shoulder, kissing and leaving wet trails as he mouthed at the skin there.....and I slipped a finger between my legs , rubbing lightly at my clit , my body screaming in protest because I had long fallen over the edge of overstimulation and this was just too much , too fast now. But I kept my eyes closed, listening to his voice as I gently rubbed circles on the swollen nub at my entrance and when I felt my orgasm hit, my eyes flew open.

“Tae, I’m....” I began , raising my head as I began to clamp down on him . My eyes widened as the hands in front of me transformed, claws popping out from each finger , razor sharp and deadly.

I closed my eyes in terror, a scream getting torn out of me just as Taehyung growled behind me, pushing hard inside me, going deeper than I thought was even possible. The lips at my shoulder moved, pulling back and my eyes flew open in shock when twin pricks of pain bloomed on the junction between my neck and shoulder.

Fear broke through the adrenaline fueled mess of pleasure in my head and I whimpered when he sank his fangs into me, teeth breaking skin without any effort and the hot, warm wetness of my blood as it gushed out of the tear. as right.

Humans did not belong with wolves because this...this was just so effing painful.

And then before I could fully recover from the pain of the bite, I felt him shifting inside me. And then somehow he seemed to be getting bigger, inside me.

“I’m so sorry , baby.” Taehyung whispered, “ Can you get the handcuffs.?”

I pulled on the safety in the handcuff and he pulled his hands away, gripping my waist and lightly turning me over till I was on my side, panting as he stayed inside me . We lay there, staring at the side wall, him spooning me as he struggled to stay still inside me, because everytime he moved, I whimpered.

“Just a few minutes.... I... I can’t pull out for a few minutes.” He whispered, now licking away at the blood on the bite mark and I couldn’t bring myself to respond because it felt a little like I was being split into two.

“How... how much bigger are you going to get?” I choked out , vaguely aware that he was still cumming inside me that there was so much of it that it was beginning to drip out of me.

Taehyung didn’t reply and I closed my eyes.

The pain was building , now, steady and sure, slowly replacing the pleasure and I wondered briefly if I should have gotten drunk for this. But Taehyung had been very adamant about me being sober.

I flinched when he shifted a little.

“So that’s it then ? We’re werewolf married now?” I choked out.

Taehyung chuckled.

“Yes, we’re werewolf married.” He said gently and moved to touch my face but the movement jostled him inside me and I let out a low keen of pain. Taehyung froze.

“Does it hurt too bad?” he asked worriedly.

I grimaced.

“Not the most pleasant wedding I’ve been to.....But definitely prefer it to getting shot though.” I choked out and he laughed, stilling quickly when I whined at the movement.

“I’m sorry. Don’t worry...Once I can move, i’ll get you the pain killers and I’ll clean the bite mark too. It’s not too bad. Don’t think you’ll need stitches even. “

I blinked back tears as the pain intensified steadily.

I felt my eyes grow heavy , exhaustion slowly seeping in along with the pain.

“I think... I’m gonna pass out.” I whispered.

Taehyung kissed me gently.

“That’s probably your body offering you some respite. You should probably take it up on that offer. “ He whispered and I couldn’t even muster a smile.

Instead I closed my eyes and let the darkness wash over me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : Did I really just write 7k of bad porn ? Why yes...yes I did.

Also poor taehyung, my baby really tried to make it good for her :’(

As always comments are love <3 Please show me more love <3 I’m needy.....

#taehyung smut #bts werewolf au #bts werewolf #taehyung werewolf au #bts fics #bts au #bts smut #taehyung fics #taehyung reactions

279 notes · View notes

shesclearlya3 · 4 years

Text

Class Fight (p.3)

pairing: teen!dandy mott x teen!reader

word count: 3,559

warnings: language, jealous dandy, slightly au!dandy, all characters are 18

part 1 part 2

You led Dandy into your bedroom, gently clicking the door shut as to not alert your mother. She trusted you, but the motherly instincts couldn't be helped when it came to safety with boys. Dandy glanced around your room, having not been up here since you were in elementary school. He noticed you still had the teddy bear he gifted you in fifth grade when you fell and scraped your knee so severely it required stitches.

You wasted no time, turning around as he took a seat on your bed, "I need an explanation from you!" you said, giving him a glare as he smirked at you. "Dandy, why are you causing fights with my friends?"

"You two really are friends, then?" he asked, very pleased with your answer. "I don't see us coming to an agreement with what I have to say."

You crossed your arms, your glare worsening as Dandy just smirked at you. You tried not to be distracted by the fact he was starting to grow into his looks, and you were beginning to notice. "That's not fair."

"Of course it isn't, but neither is life, y/n." he shrugged. "I don't regret what I did. I never liked Jason, we're rivals by default."

You frowned, "What are you talking about?"

Dandy stared at you, wiping his hands on his clean pants. "You don't remember the story? The Deans and the Motts were business partners before we were born. Jason's father stole ideas and were selling them someplace else. Ended up losing the lawsuit after my father found out. Not long after, your grandfather helped grow our business, and eventually yours."

Of course, how could you forget such an essential detail in your family history? It was only ingrained in you since birth. Despite the temporary setback, the Deans found their fortune in cars. Frozen foods weren't their strong suit, it seemed.

"Jason isn't his father," you defended him, coming to take a seat next to Dandy. "That's not fair to him."

"And I'm not my father," Dandy countered. "I go way back with Jason, y/n. Neither of us ever liked each other, and not for reasons due to our parents. He's a stuck up, spoiled brat."

You thought it was funny that Dandy, of all people, could call another person a spoiled brat. You knew he changed plenty since you were kids, but he was always the one kid in the entire grade who had a tantrum once a day in each class.

"It's not fair to me!" you said, springing back up. "I don't pretend to like everybody, Dandy. However, I don't want my relationships to suffer because two of my friends hate each other. If Jason had ulterior motives I have yet to see them!"

Dandy laughed loudly, and you found yourself with the same unamused expression as before. He didn't falter at your glare, instead grinning widely and standing up, easily towering over you.

"y/n, I don't talk to a lot of people. You know that." he approached you, and you stood your ground, feeling your legs become jelly at his close proximity. "And because of it I hear everything that is said in that school. If I wasn't concerned about you, I would have punched the shit out of him just for the shoes he was wearing yesterday."

"What about what I want?" you questioned, causing him to arch an eyebrow. "I never said I was interested in him. If he thinks something is going to come out of this, he's wrong."

Dandy nodded, smiling at you. You felt chills run down your spine as his eyes twinkled with curiosity. "I like your attitude. You always knew how to take care of yourself."

You nodded slowly, swallowing the saliva pooling in your mouth. "I guess you taught me a thing or two growing up."

The silence between you was deafening. You noticed Dandy's jawline was more pronounced than you remembered. Dandy realized your lips were fuller than before.

"y/n, I want you to promise me that you'll come to me if you change your mind." he said, and you could hear the genuine concern in his voice. "I don't trust him, but I trust you."

You nodded; however, any thought of Jason was pushed to the back of your mind.

Dandy smirked at you and took a few steps backward. "I'm afraid I have to go."

You blinked, realizing that he had you where he wanted you. You glared at him as he headed to your door before turning to look at you.

"You're still not going?" he asked, a rather smug look upon his face as he wiggled an eyebrow at you.

Before you could answer, Dandy walked out your door. You heard him descend the staircase, with a farewell to your mother, then the front door shut.

You sat on your bed, hand clutched to your chest as you silently begged for your heart to stop beating so fast. Your mother had appeared in your doorway after a few minutes, and she was grinning ear to ear.

"y/n, you still have time to make the dance." she gave you a knowing look before leaving.

You stared at yourself in the mirror across the room. You did have a few dresses with the tags still on them that would pass nicely as a formal gown.

"He wants me to go," you muttered to yourself. Dandy had been dressed nicely, but he always was. He was also soaking wet.

"But Jason might be upset.. But I'm mad at him too," you groaned, plopping down on your back. "What do I do?"

"You get the hell up and stop moping around!" you screamed, kicking your legs as Winter posed in the doorway, grinning at your reaction.

"Why are you here!?" you stood up, still panting from the scare.

"I started feeling better yesterday. Oh yeah, your mother called me and said you were having a crisis. So here I be!" she walked in the rest of the way, pulling a suitcase behind her.

"What is that?" you asked, your voice stern as she knelt on the floor, unzipping the bag. It was filled with makeup, professional kits like you were about to appear on television.

"Your plans canceled, so you're coming with me. I never got a date and with Zoe having a date, I'm not being the third wheel."

You watched her set up and realized this is why you were friends. Partying was okay on some occasions. You rarely went to school dances, to begin with. This was your Senior year. How often in the future would you get the chance to just let loose for a night?

"Okay." you shrugged, and Winter gave you a knowing smirk.

You were excited until you arrived at the school in Winter's car.

The rain had since stopped, and she dragged you to the entrance of the school as couple upon couple poured into the double doors. You were nervous now, knowing that both Dandy and Jason were probably already inside. You weren't supposed to come tonight.

"y/n! It's fine, babe," Winter said, holding your hand as you finally kept pace with her brisk walking. "We'll have a good time."

"It's not really us I'm worried about," you replied, and Winter had a look on her face that told you she already knew what happened. Your mother.

"If it helps Jason is supposed to have a date tonight. Which means he's not your problem right now."

"It's so embarrassing.. Everyone knows about the fight, and people won't stop staring!" you said, glaring at a group of Junior girls who were watching you from a corner. They quickly diverted their eyes, and Winter scoffed as she pulled you into the gymnasium.

It was decorated nicely, a live band already taking stage as kids piled in and found empty seats, many running over to the food to get first dibs. Kyle and Zoe have yet to arrive.

You found a table, sitting down and taking a quick glance around. Your heart stopped when you saw Jason arrive with his arm looped with Madison Montgomery, the most popular girl in your grade.. and the entire school. They fit together almost too well.

"You weren't kidding," you commented to Winter, who shrugged.

"I know my gossip, y/n," she said.

It wasn't long before Kyle and Zoe joined you. Zoe was ecstatic at the sight of you, pulling you into a hug and whispering that she was happy you decided to come. It made you feel good.

You had sat back down, pulling a ballot from the small pile on the table. You completely forgot about Homecoming King and Queen nominations.

Boys:

Jason Dean

Kyle Spencer

Matthew Nylund

Dandy Mott

You paused, glancing across the room to see Jason staring directly at you. You immediately looked away, reading the girls' list.

Girls:

Madison Montgomery

Zoe Benson

Natascha Langdon

Violet Harmon

You pushed the ballot aside, already knowing who you were voting for. You were relieved your name wasn't on the list. It was funny; Dandy and Jason always seemed to be selected for nomination. As far as you knew, Jason won once.

Winter nudged your arm, and you looked at her with an arched brow. She nodded towards the dance floor where Zoe and Kyle were dancing and asked if you wanted to join her.

"In a bit," you replied. Winter smiled, nodding in understanding before standing up and pushing her chair in.

You avoided making eye contact with Jason, who was also dancing with Madison. Everyone already seemed to be having a good time. You were just observing, debating on if you truly wanted to be here or not. It seemed like a good idea at first, but now you remembered why you always felt so out of place.

You jumped when someone pulled out Winter's chair, and you breathed a sigh when Dandy sat down, already smirking as you glared at him.

"You did decide to show up," he commented, a rather accomplished look on his face.

"I wouldn't look too excited. Winter came over and convinced me to go." you said, only lying a tiny bit. Dandy picked up your forgotten ballot, his eyes reading over the names before setting it down. His eyes were sparkling, but you were positive it wasn't from seeing his own name.

"Who are you voting for?" he asked casually, also looking around the packed gymnasium, also looking very out of place. There was just something about the Mott family genes that stood out from everyone else.

"I think Zoe and Kyle deserve to win together," you shrugged, and you saw Dandy's lips twitching. "You voting for yourself?"

Dandy shrugged, a smile now touching his lips. "I haven't decided yet. I've never asked to be Homecoming King."

You chuckled, seeing Winter talking to a boy you didn't recognize. Zoe and Kyle were getting something to drink as the band started to play a slow song.

Dandy watched you quietly, his eyes flickering from Jason Dean to your face. He stood up, watching you look at him with interest and almost longing for him not to leave your side.

"Would you dance with me?" Dandy asked, holding his hand out to you.

You didn't hesitate to take it, almost embarrassingly so. Dandy didn't smirk or make a sarcastic comment. Instead, you walked hand-and-hand to the floor, turning to face each other as Dandy placed a hand on your waist. It brought back memories of you being children, both of your mothers having enrolled you in dancing lessons. You were never paired with Dandy, which he would have appreciated a lot more. He was forced to dance with the girls who could never get it right, causing him to throw a fit and claim he was the best dancer in the whole world.

The thought made you smile, shaking your head as Dandy watched you, wondering what was on your mind. You looked as beautiful as he had ever seen you, and you've always been attractive.

You were unaware that the kids were staring at you, some of them whispering the latest gossip, while others were either jealous or unwilling to admit they thought you two looked cute together. Zoe and Winter were giggling, sucking down their fruit punch with Kyle.

Jason had taken a seat next to Matthew while Madison went to the bathroom for a touch-up. Matthew was smirking, eating a plate full of cookies, while Jason did his best not to stare at you.

"I thought she wasn't coming?" Matthew teased him, sticking an entire cookie in his mouth.

"She wasn't," Jason responded sourly, crossing his arms.

"It sounds to me you've been rejected," Matthew grinned.

"y/n wouldn't lie," Jason said defensively, "Her plans were probably just canceled. It's fine, I'm thinking of asking Madison out."

Matthew rolled his eyes, knowing perfectly well he was jealous as fuck.

Dandy enjoyed having you in his arms, and you felt the same. You laid your head on his chest, and you completely forgot all the dancing couples and people around you. There was a safety that came with being around him that you couldn't exactly pinpoint why that was.

The song had ended, and you unwillingly pulled away from Dandy's warming embrace. The band immediately jumped into a fast-paced song. He wasn't pleased about this, but he was quick to pull you out of the way when a mob of screaming girls nearly stormed the stage.

"Y/N!" You gasped when Winter ran and gave you a hug, giggling wildly in your ear. "Watch out, someone spiked the punch- BYE!"

You stumbled over your feet as the boy with a rather interesting mustache whisked her away, both giggling hysterically as Dandy helped you keep your balance.

"Your friend is interesting." Dandy commented, a slight smile on his lips. He'd tolerate anyone you truly cared about.

"Yes she is," you sighed, finding yourself intertwining your fingers with Dandy. He kept his cool, wanting to give Jason Dean a middle finger to the face.

You had both eaten and got some punch, talking and ultimately enjoying yourself. You were thrilled you decided to come now, feeling like you weren't going to be alone the rest of the night. You danced with Zoe, while Kyle sat awkwardly at the table with Dandy for a break. Zoe whispered in your ear that Winter will be gone for the rest of the night before you both giggled.

In the middle of Jailhouse Rock, Principal Harmon grabbed the microphone, causing the boy band to lose their rhythm and many kids to boo.

"Alright, alright, its time to collect the ballots for King and Queen! Five minutes to get to your tables, complete the ballots, and then the Senior Student Committee will come around to collect them."

You followed Zoe back to the table, taking your seat as Dandy was folding his ballot. He handed you the pencil, and you almost hesitated as you filled it out. A part of you did want to vote for Dandy, but who would you pair him with? Madison Montgomery has tried digging her nails into him many times. Zoe would be a good fit, but she deserved to win with Kyle. Natascha openly despised him, and Violet probably hated that she was even nominated. Her disposition wasn't exactly sunny.

You ended up voting for Zoe and Kyle like you originally intended. Dandy peeked over your shoulder and seemed pleased with your nomination.

The ballots were quickly collected, and it took another fifteen minutes to accurately count them. The band hadn't returned to the stage. There was a lot of chattering about who voted for who.

You hadn't been paying attention to the table directly behind you. The girls who had been staring at you when you had arrived had been talking about you and Dandy. Dandy was listening, his hands clenching at the awful things they were saying about you. He was doing his best to not cause a scene on your behalf. It was bad enough he and Jason both had bruising that was a constant reminder to the students what already happened.

All the nominees had to go stand on the stage. Zoe looked uncomfortable, but you gave her a reassuring smile, which seemed to ease her mind. Winter sat next to you, and you gave her a questioning look. She only grinned and waved you off. Dandy stood next to Jason, both boys beat up but as handsome as ever.

Principal Harmon announced Madison as the Queen. She gushed while he placed the crown on her head, and the elderly receptionist placed a bouquet of roses in her arms. She beamed at the crowd, waving as if she were pure royalty. You and Winter clapped unenthusiastically, but you knew deep down Zoe wouldn't take it too hard.

"And for the King," Mr. Harmon said, opening the envelope. The silence was awkward, and you could feel the tension in the air. "Oh no-"

Mr. Harmon glanced around, his eyes settling on the student committee kids who only shrugged, nodding their approval.

"Well it seems we have a tie," he continued, scratching his head. "Dandy Mott and Jason Dean."

There was a ripple of laughter and disbelief as students yelled for a recount. Dandy was smirking, but Jason didn't look the least bit amused. Madison was pouting.

".. This has never happened in my twenty years of being principal," he said awkwardly into the mic. "Where do we go from here?"

"I back out," Dandy announced proudly.

"Oh! That was easy!" said Mr. Harmon, "In that case, I present to you, King Jason Dean!"

The crowd roared as he placed the crown on Jason's head. He smiled sheepishly, briefly meeting your eyes as Dandy and the others walked off the stage. Zoe and Kyle hugged, both smiling in good humor. Dandy sat beside you as Jason and Madison started their dance to Frankie Valli.

"That was kind of you," you whispered to Dandy.

"It's nothing, I could care less about winning."

Dandy put his arm around the back of your chair until their dance was over. They took a few pictures before the band returned back to the stage, promising a few more slow dances to all the couples before the night was over.

Winter gasped when Jason approached your table; Madison running to her friends and fawning over her flowers and tiara. He ignored Dandy entirely, focusing only on you.

"Could I have a word?" he asked kindly, offering his hand to you.

You nodded, feeling Dandy tense by your side. You placed your hand on his leg under the table in reassurance before taking Jason's hand, following him to the dance floor. You realized at that moment that you knew where your heart belonged.

"I was surprised to see you tonight," Jason said, bringing you in close.

"My plans didn't work out. Winter talked me into coming." you laughed nervously, and he smiled at you.

"I'm happy you came, we don't have many of these left, you know," he chuckled.

"I'm happy I came too," you replied before looking at him. "I'm sorry about everything."

Jason frowned, raising his eyebrows as he spun you around. "Why are you sorry?"

You shrugged, "I've known Dandy my entire life. He's very protective of me and I wish you two never got into that fight." You made your point by glancing around at the few people trying to catch glimpses of you.

"It's not your fault, y/n," Jason said in disapproval, "It was a misunderstanding, Matthew isn't the sharpest tool in the shed and doesn't think things through when he speaks. Mott just heard the worst of his ignorance."

"Well, I think it's safe to say it won't be happening again," you said, watching as Madison came back from the hallway, pouting at the sight of you. "I think Madison really likes you."

Jason glanced back, a smile on his face. "Is it too much to admit now I really like you too?"

You smiled shyly, "That's very sweet of you."

Jason nodded, "I think it's clear who you really like, and he's very lucky," he said, now watching as Dandy stared at the pair of you.

"Yeah.." you agreed, almost liking the jealous looks being thrown your way. "I hope we could still be friends."

Jason was pleased to hear that, and he promised to call you sometime after the song ended. You watched as he walked to Madison, whose eyes lit up at the sight of him. You quickly walked back to your table, pulling up Dandy, who was surprised by your urgency.

"Did he say something?" his nostrils flared, looking as if he was about to murder someone.

"Nope," you said before cupping his cheeks and pulling him down to meet your height. You kissed him deeply, and you heard Winter say, "Holy shit!" while Zoe squealed with her mouth full of cake.

Dandy pulled away, his hands on your waist as he blinked in surprise. You grinned, pulling him towards the doors as the group of girls watched you with their mouths hanging open.

"Sorry for your loss!" you chirped at them, smiling sweetly as Dandy followed you in a daze.

School drama just does not change.

taglist: @daisychainsinknots

#dandy mott imagine #dandy mott x reader #ahs imagine #ahs freak show #american horror story

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vendettamemes-a · 3 years

Text

Random Prompts for Your Needs

As always, adjust nouns/pronouns as needed!

“I’m here for you if you need it.”

“Let them go!”

“Leave them alone!”

“I know it’s you.”

“I know you’re there.”

“Any particular reason you’re following me?”

“When did you realize you were in love?”

“Actually, that makes even less sense now that you’ve explained it.”

“I can see the resemblance.”

“No matter how many years pass I’ll always remember your voice.”

“There’s a time for us. But it’s not now.”

“I will always be with you.”

“I want to walk beside you forever.”

“Take my hand and don’t let go.”

“If I could I’d sweep you off your feet physically too.”

“I love you.”

“I can’t believe it took us nearly dying just for me to realize _____.”

“One of these days, you’re going to get yourself into a situation where you’re fucked, and you’re not gonna be able to un-fuck yourself.”

“____ing to try and fill the void never works. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

“This one’s for all the people who made this possible. Including the one’s that aren’t here to see it anymore.”

“I wish you were here.”

“You’d love this place.”

“This reminded me of you.”

“I think about you sometimes. I’ll look at something or visit some place and just think of you and how you’d like it.”

“I never want to be apart from you.”

“It feels strange knowing how two people’s souls could be tied together and they never even know it.”

“Alright, the truth is I’ve known for a long time.”

“You and I? We’re partners in crime. Thick as thieves we are. A real pair of aces.”

“All my life I’ve felt like a monster. But with you, I actually feel human.”

“You make me feel like a person.”

“When I’m with you, the feeling is indescribable!”

“We should make a secret handshake or something.”

“You smell so good.”

“That looks new.”

“Something’s different about you... I like it.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in love before.”

“Whatever you’re doing right now, drop it. We’ve got somewhere to be.”

“You look nice. Going somewhere?”

“Now where do you think you’re going all dolled up like that?”

“I’m not the best at this. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Your hair is so soft.”

“Is that my shirt/jacket/sweater?”

“There you go again trying to steal my look.”

“Talking to you feels like a game of Wheel of Fortune sometimes.”

“Am I speaking another language?!”

“You have the attention span of a fucking wet soap bar.”

“So you have been paying attention.”

“Impressive. No, I had total faith in you, really. I just didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

“Good plan, what do you want written on your tombstone?”

“____. Famous last words.”

“I can’t die now! I don’t even have a will written up!”

“You came back for me?”

“I’d never leave you behind.”

“Just because I’m pissed at you doesn’t mean I suddenly stop caring about you.”

“Just because I’m pissed at you doesn’t mean I suddenly stop loving you.”

“Quite beating around the bush, just tell me why you’re acting like this.”

“You know why people say communication is key? You. You are the reason why people say that.”

“You’re gonna have a date with your hand if you keep that up.”

“____ squad!”

“You’re the Yee to my Haw.”

“You’re so warm...”

“Something about you just makes me want to hold you close and never let you go.”

“You have all the ferocious instincts of a hamster hunting a shred of lettuce.”

“If you were going for scary I’m sorry to tell you that it’s not coming off that way.”

“Where did you hide my ____?”

“How many times do I have to tell you that you can’t just go around putting things in your mouth?”

“You’ve got a little something on your face.”

“I’d ask where you got this ____ but I’m too afraid to find out so I’m just not going to question it.”

“On this episode of Hoarders: Buried Alive...”

“I just feel like you could benefit from a good trip to a therapist about this.”

“When this is all over, we’re gonna nap for at least three days and no one better bother us.”

“I’ve been in the wilderness for so long that granola bars have been liquified in my pockets. I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“Woah, hey! Easy! Put that down before you hurt yourself!”

“This actually turned pretty nice! I’m proud of us!”

“You made this for me?”

“You did this for me?”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

“I used to think this sort of thing was pointless but you’re really changing my mind here.”

“I’ve never known you to be anything but stubbornly perseverant.”

“If you put your mind to it, I know it’ll get done.”

“I trust that I’m leaving this in good hands.”

“Just give me a bunch of seed and a yo-yo. I’ll get you a ____.”

“You just feel your soul leave your body too?”

“Oh quit complaining, at least yours was floating up.”

“Pretty sure this is how at least one war in history started.”

“You don’t need to be here if you don’t want to.”

“You feel like staying the night?”

“I’m not letting you go home like this.”

“Stay with me.”

“Maybe just five more minutes...”

“Ah ah, put that down.”

“Oh we’re not going anywhere.”

“Look at this mess.”

“No, our situation is bad enough as is. We are not adding a dog to this mess.”

“Can we keep it? Please?”

“The stork’s on its way. What? No, you idiot- I meant an actual stork.”

“Don’t move. I think we’re being watched.”

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“I know I say this a lot but this is a bad idea.”

“This is the biggest Uh-Oh I think I’ve ever been in. I mean, it’s beyond Spaghetti-O’s levels of Uh-oh.”

“It’s gonna be a long trip.”

“Well at least your playlist has some good tracks.”

“Alright, that’s enough. Turn it off.”

“Would you get out from under there already?”

#misc starters #prompts

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darkarfs · 3 years

Text

the worst movie tie-ins in the history of wrestling

Wrestling is stupid, and will show its ass at the mere mention of cross-promotion, especially when it comes to movies, which is it's cooler older brother that can get away with a lot more. Hell, the 2nd ever SummerSlam's main event, in 1989, was Hulk Hogan facing the main villain, Tiny Lister as Zeus (RIP), from the film they were both in, No Holds Barred. So wrestling's always wanted a piece of that. So... - Army of the Dead Let's just get this one out of the way. Here's the thing; I thought the WrestleMania Backlash's card was fucking perfect...except for this weird business. WMB MIGHT've been the best show of the pandemic (hot take) were it not for making sure we sell Big Dave's big zombie heist movie. If they had just kept some of the guys in zombie makeup on the Thunderdome's webcam footage, that would have been borderline charming. But instead, the Miz (who was WWE champion 3 months ago, don't forget) and Damien Priest (who they're making WWE's pop-culture liaison so far on the main roster, for some reason) had to sell for zombies in a lumberjack match. If this was the first ever wrestling show you watched with a loved one who had never watched wrestling or hadn't since like, the end of the Attitude Era, would you for a second want them to stick around after Miz and Morrison get, for all intents and purposes, kayfabe killed and eaten, and then watch Damien Priest shoot the logo at the ceiling? My money's on "no." - Shaft Speaking of the Attitude Era, anytime someone tells you that wrestling was cooler in that 3-year time frame, point them to the June 15th of 2000 episode of SmackDown, where a storyline that ran throughout the show followed Patterson and Briscoe through New York City to find Crash Holly and his Hardcore Title. Now, I admit parts of this are kinda funny, like Briscoe just wanting to give up and find a "gen-yoo-WINE New York hot dawg!" That's fun! And who does Crash Holly run into but none other than Shaft, and his woman, the only one who understands this complicated man, John Shaft. So, we have real Samuel L. Jackson, playing fake John Shaft, talking to real/fictional Crash Holly, and man is it weird. Anyway, Shaft agrees to be Crash's bodyguard for the night, and he slaps around Patterson and Briscoe in a nightclub. After all, what better way to get across how cool and badass a character is than having him knock around the fucking Stooges? - The Wrestler Well, this is complicated. The Wrestler, starring ancient wooden lion Mickey Rourke, is a somber tale about an industry that, in its heyday, left people physically spent, washed-up and addicted to adrenaline at best, and dead at worst. It famously moved Roddy Piper to tears because he recognized what destruction and brokenness the industry once left in its wake. Which is why it's super-weird that WWE jumped at the chance to promote maybe the bleakest possible look at their world in 2009, and did so by having Chris Jericho smack the shit out of three old wrestlers at WrestleMania 25, including Roddy Piper. And then have Rourke jump into the ring, wearing his "do you want to take peyote in the desert?" starter kit and bring out his amateur boxing chops. Tonally, it's just really bleak. Like if the creator of Super Size Me screened the premiere at the world's biggest McDonald's. - Bride of Chucky Poor Rick Steiner. You didn't deserve this. You're the sane Steiner. They shouldn't have made you talk to the puppet. So, WCW was heading into Halloween Havoc 1998, and after years of stomping all over the WWF in the ratings, the wheels had come off, and dramatically. Like, all at once. Like the car in the Blues Brothers. To boost PPV buys, they spent a fortune bringing in the Ultimate Warrior to rekindle a feud with Hulk Hogan, mostly by hiding in his fucking mirror. And the Steiner Brothers, one of the best teams of the early 90s, had been feuding with one another since Scott turned on his at SuperBrawl. What was the best way to build hype around this match at Halloween Havoc? Why, to have Rick get into a war of words - and lose - to Chucky. Yes.

Serial killer doll voiced by Brad Dourif, and it's so sad. Chucky cusses Rick out while Rick challenges the fucking doll to a fight, which is promptly ignored (Chucky's video segment is pre-recorded, and you can tell because he starts talking about 3 times in 3 minutes while Rick's mid-promo and missing his cues to stop) and then is made fun of. And all the while, people were probably wondering "what's going on on Vince's show?" and the answer is...that was the episode of Raw where Austin fills Vince's Corvette with cement, which is slightly more badass than being teased by a puppet. - The Goods Here's the thing: Raw is, right now, a bad show. It is bad TV. It's been bad for a while now. And as bad as it is right now, it's still not as fuck-awful as it was in 2009, aka the Age of the Guest Hosts (which, in kayfabe, was given to us by Donald J. Trump, so blame that ambulatory Nazi scrotum for one more thing, he's certainly earned it). For those of you fortunate enough to not be watching what was objectively unwatchable at the time - and hell, I sure as shit wasn't checking in very often - from mid-2009 to around mid-2010, a celebrity would be the special guest host of Monday Night Raw, often to promote a TV show or movie, and it was nearly all horribly-written, cheesy wank. Imagine if every week was the week of the zombie attack at Backlash. That's what it was like. Bob Barker was funny. The Muppets were good. And THAT'S the end of the list. MacGruber coming out to blow up R-Truth made me want to fall on a knife. The A-Team coming out to beat up Virgil was fucking awful. Go straight to fucking HELL, the Three Stooges, Dennis Miller, the reverend Al Sharpton, the 2010 Pittsburgh Steelers, Don Johnson and Jon Heder, the poor entire cast of Hot Tub Time Machine...and then there's Piven. Jeremy Piven. He showed up with Ken Jeong to promote a movie no one remembers...called the Goods. He stunk up several segments, infamously called SummerSlam "the Summer Fest" and then got roughed up by John Cena. Wrestling's the worst. Stop watching. And many did. For a looooooong time. - Robocop 2 This one's infamous, so I'll keep it brief. Robocop 2 came out in 1990, and goddamn, I don't know how much money the producers threw at WCW, but it was enough for them to rebrand an entire PPV "Capitol Combat: the Return of Robocop" and marketed the entire thing around the fancy metallic gentleman. The branding really made it seem like Robert Cop was old friends with the promotion, and indeed, old friends with Sting. Makes sense; two big, heroic idiots running on BASIC. He had been feuding with the Four Horsemen, who locked him in a cage at ringside. Out comes Robocop, called completely straight by Jim Ross, who rips the cage door off his hinges, and then leaves. An accumulated 85 seconds of screen time. Totally worth being the centerpiece of this PPV! But a little context as to why WCW fans hated it so much: 1989, the year before, was regarded by WCW fans as one of the best in company history. The era that gave us stuff like Chi-Town Rumble and the still-very-much-lauded peak of the Steamboat/Flair feud. To go from that to Robocop was seen as a bit of a slap in the face, because WCW was always seen as the more traditional "wrasslin'" company and was never into cheesy pop-culture crossovers, which is why the last one...is all the funnier.

- Ready To Rumble First of all, those dumbasses at Turner had to give Michael Buffer - who they still had on retainer - around $350,000 just to use that title, because he owns the trademark to that phrase. Strike 127 million, capitalism, that a guy gets to own a phrase and gets paid an obscene amount when he or anyone else uses it. Secondly, I initially wasn't going to do movies where the promotion itself is producing the movie, or oh holy HELL would See No Evil and the infamous May 19 shit be on here. But unlike See No Evil, this had a hand in killing a decades-old wrestling promotion, so it feels weird to not include it. On April 7th, 2000, bad movie Ready To Rumble was released, a film about two hapless dorks trying to help Oilver Platt, aka the lawyer from the West Wing, become WCW World Heavyweight Champion. Two weeks later, to promote the movie, they made David Arquette, the lead actor in the movie, the WCW World Heavyweight Champion. He pinned Eric Bischoff, who wasn't the champion, of course, in a match where he was teamed with Diamond Dallas Page, his best pal and the company's top babyface at the time, but who is also one of the villains in the film to make it extra confusing for the mainstream casual audience the movie was made to attract. And, to be fair, Arquette didn't want to do it, NO ONE really wanted to do it, and it tanked viewership for WCW once and for all. At the very least, David took his payday from the wrestling appearances and the film and gave it to the families of Owen Hart, Brian Pillman and to Darren Drozdov, who had been paralyzed from the neck down in a wrestling match the previous year.

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piracytheorist · 4 years

Text

A Kiss for Good Luck (13/16)

Summary: So this is the story of one born lucky, and one born unlucky. Fate will keep making them cross paths, but is it to bring them together, or to test them? Captain Swan AU.

A/N: With this chapter, two more and the epilogue left, I decided to post them day by day! You can expect the next and final updates on Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday :D

Rating: T (make sure you’re okay with the warnings on AO3)

Word count for this chapter: 3.6k (51k in total) AO3

Read from the beginning: Tumblr | AO3

Chapter 13: Emma Swan, May 25th – June 22nd 2016

Emma smiles wide as she watches Killian go to the end of the now huge line to the airport checkpoint. He went back just to give her a kiss, and a part of her is delighted to realize she adores this hopelessly romantic side of him.

He doesn't turn to look at her, but the place is too crowded anyway, and she decides to go back, grab a coffee and wait to watch his plane leave. Instead, Killian's flight is delayed for a few hours. She texts him about it, whether he wants to cross back and join her, but he simply tells her to not worry and go back home.

It sours her mood a little; it may be a bit late in the day, but there's no reason for him to spend all this time alone, and if she judges by the plain tone of his message he doesn't even want to chat until he leaves.

Odd. First he gives up being first in a long line just to kiss her, then he doesn't even want to talk to her.

Perhaps he just wants to rest or sleep until his flight leaves. Emma tries to ignore the insistent little voice in her head that has never truly disappeared since Neal left her.

She turns the radio on while in her car and catches a blues station. The slow music and the complete lack of traffic back to her place calm her thoughts.

She stays up, checking on Killian's flight until it departs, hoping it doesn't mean a thing that Killian himself didn't tell her that his plane was finally leaving.

The next day is easy, checking off a few good cases, and in the evening she meets Ruby for a few drinks.

“So,” Ruby says with a meaningful look, “how was your week?”

Emma sighs happily, and it's with Ruby's smile turning warmer that she remembers she actually had a fantastic time. She's worrying too much.

“It was great. It felt... right, you know? I was a bit scared, but the moment we met at the airport made everything else not matter. He was here, and we could really enjoy our time together...”

Ruby's nodding enthusiastically. “And? How was it?”

“It was... warm and fuzzy...” Emma gives a good look at Ruby, suddenly realizing what she's asking about. “I told you we weren't ready for that.”

“Even after the whole week?”

“I mean, I spent most of my nights looking at my bedroom door and wondering whether I should go and ask him... but it wasn't just me.”

“I admire your patience. And his. And how about him? What do you think it was like for him?”

“I'm not sure, honestly.” Her face falls.

“What happened?”

“Up until the last day, I could swear it was as good for him as it was for me. I mean, he came, right? He chose to. And he looked happy to be here, with me. But a few hours before he had to leave, he seemed restless and anxious.”

“Because he was leaving?”

“I don't know. I...” She sighs. “He hasn't contacted me to let me know he's arrived safely. But I checked Messenger a few hours ago and it said he's been active today.”

“Did you send him a text about it? It would be weird for him to just forget but sometimes it just happens.”

“Should I send one, you think?”

“Yeah. Maybe he was really busy today. What did you say his job is?”

“His father has a boat rental, and sometimes he takes passengers on cruises.”

“Well, tourist season is kinda starting. Send him a message. But, you know, try to not sound desperate.”

“Ugh. I feel as if I'm in a teenage rom-com.”

She sends her message. Early the next morning, she sees his reply; a plain “Aye, I was busy, sorry for not letting you know,” and compared to his message from before his flight right above that, she can't help wondering.

She didn't have a cell phone as a teenager, and she hadn't allowed herself anything longer than one-night stands after Neal, so it's the first time in her life she has to look at her phone and keep telling herself to not call first.

She takes walks by the sea, seeing the yachts and boats and thinking of Killian. He mentioned how it had been his choice to work on his father's boats, how he loved that job where there's always a view of the sea.

Having practically grown up in Boston, Emma knows well the feelings that endless blue can bring. For Killian, they must be even stronger. The feeling of freedom and calmness and strength at the same time...

She knows he's facing his own issues, he's been open to her about them. His lonely adolescence, his grief, his drinking problem.

She decides to take a walk there every day, to remind herself to give Killian the same space that the sea gives him. Maybe he's out there at the same time, looking at the sea the same way she does.

He manages to call her within a week, though due to his bad connection, they don't share video this time. Or the next. Or the next.

“Remember how I told you I felt I was in a rom-com?” she tells Ruby when they meet one day for coffee. “I hope that at least I'm the protagonist and not the third wheel.”

“What's going on?”

“I worry too much about his calls. We used to talk every day, from five minutes to whole hours on end. And now he's just too busy, or his connection is bad, or his camera isn't working and I'm not seeing his face. But he keeps calling me back, not as often, and not as much, and he doesn't even say as much as he used to, but he's initiating calls on his part. Sometimes he doesn't reply when I call him...” She covers her face with her hands.

Ruby is patiently waiting for more, and Emma isn't sure which more to choose. Killian had trusted her with his history about getting involved with a married woman and she's not ready to betray that just to provide a possible proof that he may be cheating on her.

“We decided to take things slow,” Emma said. “We weren't shy on kisses while he was here, but it didn't go further than that. Do you think he may not consider it cheating, if...”

“If he didn't consider it cheating – if he even is cheating on you – he wouldn't be hiding like that. And taking things slow is different than having an open relationship.”

“I don't know.”

“Emma, if he didn't see it so seriously, would he have come all this way just to spend a week with you? While respecting your wish to not get intimate?”

“He said that's what he wanted as well.”

“So what, is his masculinity so fragile that instead of respecting your wishes, he would fake not being ready for sex? Is he that kind of person?”

Emma is silent.

“You do realize it would take a deep kind of crazy to only want to get laid, then come all this way and agree to not get laid.”

Fair point. “I just wish I knew what it was that tipped him that way. It's... you know, on his last day here, we were talking about our first kisses, and we realized we actually were each other's first kiss.”

“What? You're serious?”

“I know, of all people, right? And I have an inkling he might have been freaked out by that.”

“How did it happen?”

“It was a game of spin the bottle. It was as innocent as it could get at eleven.”

“Did you ask him about it?”

“Yeah. When he was still here, though. I mean, at first he laughed, just as I did, then his face fell, and I asked him if he felt weird about it, and he said no, just that he didn't want to leave. Ugh.” She hangs her head. “That's not a rom-com. That's a soap opera.”

“Maybe he's going through something? Problems with work, family?”

“He hasn't mentioned anything. He said he hasn't talked to his fathers in a while. But, he's shared more serious stuff with me. If something was upsetting him so much... I can't imagine how serious something must be for him to not want to share it with me. And I don't know how much time to give him. Will I sound desperate? Like a stalker? If I take too long, will I seem insensitive?”

“I'm sorry, honey.”

“He's calling me, Ruby. He's not trying to cut off, and he's not trying to appease me either. I'm sure he knows I can hear that he's hiding something. What am I meant to make out from that?”

“Maybe confront him with the fact that you know something is up. Just put it on the table. Say that he doesn't have to explain it to you if it doesn't involve or concern you, just to stop pretending there's no elephant in the room.”

“Sounds simple enough, I guess.” She sighs. “Perhaps it was too early? We've only known each other for seven months.”

“Too early for what? You're not engaged or something. You can work things out.”

Emma nods. “Thank you. Sorry for unloading all that on you.”

“That's what friends are for.” She takes her hands in hers. “I've got lots to talk about, if you want a distraction.”

Emma has had a wonky fortune in her life; she's glad she happened to meet Ruby during one of the good times.

The next day, while she's still growing the courage to confront Killian about acknowledging at least that there's something going on, Ingrid calls her. She's joined by Elsa, who excitedly tells Emma she wants to join Ingrid in her next trip to Boston that summer – they will, of course, stay in a hotel close by so she won't be a bother.

“Maybe we'll go somewhere nice all three of us,” Emma says. “I actually bought a lottery ticket and I have a good feeling about it.”

“Oh, if you have a good feeling about it,” Ingrid says, then turns to Elsa. “You cannot imagine how lucky she was as a teenager.” She then bursts into chatter in Norwegian, and even if Emma could understand more than a few words here and there, she would still be lost in thought.

She was indeed quite lucky as a teen. In fact, the luckiest day of her life, as she'd described it to Killian, had been just the beginning of five great years.

Until her first trip to England, where she met the pirate boy.

Wait...

“Emma?”

She starts, looking back at her camera.

“Sorry, dear, I got carried away,” Ingrid says.

“We will try to use more English when we're there,” Elsa says with an apologetic smile.

“No, it's alright. Ingrid, can you remind me when you actually got your first visa? I mean, in the recent years.”

“Uh, a few days before I contacted you. The first time.”

“Do you remember how many days?”

Ingrid huffs in thought, but turns to her with a smile. “Such sudden curiosity. I'm not sure exactly, three? Four? Less than a week, for sure.”

Too close to the day she kissed that stranger at the club... the only one she didn't see around when the police was asking for witnesses, if they saw who shot that man at the hand and killed his lover.

“Emma?”

Emma takes a deep breath and does her hardest to fake a smile. “Nothing. It's... something about work.”

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Nothing to worry about. When do you think about visiting?”

After a short chat, Ingrid gets the message and leaves Emma with her thoughts. Emma's hands are shaking; the lottery results will be out in two days and they can't come fast enough.

She runs out, resorting to buying a scratch ticket from a nearby kiosk. She scratches it and stares at it, nearly frozen.

Five dollars.

Emma looks around, looks at the sky, then at her phone. Her weather app clearly shows rain, but there's not a single cloud in the sky.

She is lucky. Things have been going quite well for her. Suddenly so, in fact. Just a month or so ago, she would be getting splashed by cars and losing spare change and...

And then Killian visited her.

She walks slowly back to her apartment, and somehow it doesn't come as a surprise that thunder rumbles outside right as she closes her door.

She sits on her couch, watching the rain pour outside her window.

She had a serving of quite a bad luck the first eleven years of her life. Then she met Killian at that birthday party, they shared an innocent kiss, and that very same evening Ingrid told her she would be adopting her.

Shortly after that Killian's mother died, his father left them, and his brother passed too a few years later.

She stands up, pacing around her living room.

He lived in London at the time. At the exact time she visited for Halloween, that fateful year, that she was left alone and Killian... was adopted? He had mentioned being almost too old to be adopted.

He said it hadn't been him at that party, but he didn't sound convincing, and at the time Emma brushed it off, but... if it really had been him...

Then the night of the shooting at the club. She doesn't remember that stranger's face, but their kiss was too close to him getting shot and Ingrid's visa getting accepted.

A shiver runs down her spine as she remembers the screams of that night. The screams of a man who got shot in the hand... a hand that Killian doesn't have.

Emma's nearly gasping for breath, her hands shaking again as she forces herself to sit back down at the couch.

After that, it was some good years for her, and Killian was lost in his grief, alcohol, and a bad relationship later on.

Then they met at the concert, where right after their kiss, she dropped her phone, cracking its screen.

She looks at it now. The crack is still there, but something tells her getting a new phone screen – or a whole new phone – won't be a problem a few days from now.

She feels a weight set on her shoulders as she goes back to Killian trying to convince her it wasn't him at the Halloween party.

He knows. Somehow, he does, though she doubts he found out much earlier than the moment they realized they were each other's first kiss.

And second.

The weight becomes a sudden void; the pirate boy's look nearly haunted her for years; fifteen years later, she felt a similar sensation at the way Killian looked at her in the concert.

It was the same look, by the same person.

She shakes her head. It's silly. Can it truly be, that they brought good and bad luck to each other, just by kissing?

Then she remembers how he left, when there was no-one in front of him at the queue, to get back to her and give her a last kiss, and didn't come back to join her when his flight was being delayed, because he knew there would be kissing involved if he did.

Tears fill her eyes. He left his luck with her.

And things have been going well for her. How has he been... when both times he got unlucky, people he loved died?

She keeps looking at her phone, wondering if she should call Killian about it, ask him if everything's okay.

Instead, she picks it up and starts looking for the cheapest flight to England she can afford, as soon as possible.

She can't tell Killian; he'll try to stop her, pretend that he's not in Brighton, that he'll be busy...

She finds the envelope with which he'd sent her her Christmas present; she'd kept it in case she'd want to surprise him with a gift back. The return address doesn't include the apartment number, but surprising him in the building entrance will have to do.

She books a flight for three days from now, and of course is not surprised to earn two thousand dollars at the lottery, nor to be promoted to a business class seat thanks to travel miles.

She's grown used to really enjoying flights, but this time she's too nervous to sit back and relax.

He figured out everything before she did. All he had to do was time their kisses right, then leave with his luck on his side. Forever.

But he didn't. He wouldn't. Emma may not know him that long, but she doesn't think he's capable of that. And that's why she's in this plane now.

There's a small part of her that wonders what she's going to do when she comes back. Will Killian actually let her leave without his luck? Will he follow her back? Will they just spend all their money in the effort to be the most selfless one?

She sighs in frustration. That's not something she took into consideration when she agreed to start such a long-distance relationship.

As her luck would have it, everything goes better than smoothly, and courtesy of having slept on her comfortable seat, she doesn't even feel tired from the trip.

It's just starting to get dark when she arrives in Brighton, and she contemplates going straight for her hotel and 'confronting' Killian the next day. But her note with Killian's address on it is right inside her jacket pocket when she gets in the cab, and she can't help herself. The moment she approaches his apartment block, someone happens to exit and smiles to her as he holds the door open for her.

Of course he would. She settles herself and her holdall on the stairs, sends one 'Hey, call me when you see this' to Killian, and waits.

After a couple of hours she starts wondering whether she really is all that lucky, or if it was all in her imagination. The stairs aren't too comfortable and she's slowly getting bored. There's only so much Candy Crush she can handle.

Her eyes look up every single time she sees someone even approach the entrance from outside, and again, everyone who enters or exits simply smiles at her and goes on their way.

She's about ready to give up and head for her hotel when he finally appears. He's looking down, his visibly longer hair falling in front of his face as he takes a bit too long to open the door. She contemplates going to open it herself, but he makes it and starts for the stairs, stopping at the first step and looking up slowly.

His slow reflexes, his slightly staggering step, his tired, sad face...

He was out drinking.

Coming like this was a horrible idea.

“Killian...” she says, making sure her voice sounds worried and not judgmental.

He just stares at her, looking confused and very tired.

“I know this looks weird,” she says. “I've had some time to think and... I'm not stalking you.”

“Wha-” he starts. “How...”

“I'm sorry.” She toys with her hands nervously. “I should have let you know earlier. It was...” Not just impulsive. “Very impulsive. But I would've come soon anyway.”

“How did you know where...” His voice trails off, but she gets the point.

“The gift you sent me for Christmas. The package had your address on it.”

He blinks slowly, and she's not sure he's registering everything she's saying. “Come upstairs,” he says eventually, starting to walk up the steps.

“Wait, really?” She stands up and grabs her bag. “I've booked a hotel-”

“You can take the bed,” he interrupts her. “It's got clean sheets.”

“Killian-”

He gives her a stern look that shuts her up. He's clearly not in the mood for more than just getting to a bed. “Just come.”

She smells the alcohol off of him when he steps closer to her and she wonders whether she should comment on it. Maybe she can ask, somehow, there must have been something that pushed him over.

His apartment looks tidy and smells clean. He sets himself down on the couch, taking off his brace and shoes.

“Is something wrong?” Emma says. “You're...” She pauses. How can she say it?

“Relapsing,” he says plainly. “Why is everyone avoiding that word?”

“Are you okay?”

He shrugs. “Not much to say. I'm tired.”

So hopefully, nothing horrible happened to him or his family.

“I'm sorry,” Emma says again. “I should have let you know I'm coming. I... I'd thought I could surprise you...” What else can she say to excuse such a sudden visit?

Killian lets out a cold, soulless laugh. “Lucky me,” he says, then lies down, eyes closing and breath quickly getting deeper.

His words pull at her heart, confirming that he knows of their mingled fates. She approaches him, kneeling down next to him and touching his hair. It's only been a month and she's already missed feeling how soft his hair is. How she'd love to keep brushing her fingers through it, and not just tonight.

A soft snore comes from him, and she leans forward to leave a kiss on his forehead.

#Emma Swan #Captain Swan #captain swan ff #cs ff #ouat ff #akfgl #captain swan movie marathon #piracytheorist writes

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richincolor · 4 years

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January's New Releases

2021 told 2020 to hold it's beer and what a month January has been! Publishing YA also came out swinging with a slew of new books (many already bestsellers) in what we hope will be another banner year for BIPOC stories. Click below to find books for your TBR list.

Week of January 5th

The Life I’m In by Sharon G. Flake Scholastic Inc

My feet are heavy as stones when I walk up the block wondering why I can’t find my old self.

In The Skin I’m In, readers saw into the life of Maleeka Madison, a teen who suffered from the ridicule she received because of her dark skin color. For decades fans have wanted to know the fate of the bully who made Maleeka’s life miserable, Char.

Now in Sharon Flake’s latest and unflinching novel, The Life I’m In, we follow Charlese Jones, who, with her raw, blistering voice speaks the truths many girls face, offering insight to some of the causes and conditions that make a bully. Turned out of the only home she has known, Char boards a bus to nowhere where she is lured into the dangerous web of human trafficking. Much is revealed behind the complex system of men who take advantage of vulnerable teens in the underbelly of society. While Char might be frightened, she remains strong and determined to bring herself and her fellow victims out of the dark and back into the light, reminding us why compassion is a powerful cure to the ills of the world.

Sharon Flake’s bestselling, Coretta Scott King Award-winning novel The Skin I’m In was a game changer when it was first published more than twenty years ago. It redefined young adult literature by presenting characters, voices, and real-world experiences that had not been fully seen. Now Flake offers readers another timely and radical story of a girl on the brink and how her choices will lead her to either fall, or fly. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Happily Ever Afters by Elise Bryant Balzer + Bray

Sixteen-year-old Tessa Johnson has never felt like the protagonist in her own life. She’s rarely seen herself reflected in the pages of the romance novels she loves. The only place she’s a true leading lady is in her own writing—in the swoony love stories she shares only with Caroline, her best friend and #1 devoted reader.

When Tessa is accepted into the creative writing program of a prestigious art school, she’s excited to finally let her stories shine. But when she goes to her first workshop, the words are just…gone. Fortunately, Caroline has a solution: Tessa just needs to find some inspiration in a real-life love story of her own. And she’s ready with a list of romance novel-inspired steps to a happily ever after. Nico, the brooding artist who looks like he walked out of one of Tessa’s stories, is cast as the perfect Prince Charming.

But as Tessa checks each item off Caroline’s list, she gets further and further away from herself. She risks losing everything she cares about—including the surprising bond she develops with sweet Sam, who lives across the street. She’s well on her way to having her own real-life love story, but is it the one she wants, after all?

One of the Good Ones by Maika Moulite and Maritza Moulite Inkyard Press

ISN’T BEING HUMAN ENOUGH? When teen social activist and history buff Kezi Smith is killed under mysterious circumstances after attending a social justice rally, her devastated sister Happi and their family are left reeling in the aftermath. As Kezi becomes another immortalized victim in the fight against police brutality, Happi begins to question the idealized way her sister is remembered. Perfect. Angelic.

One of the good ones.

Even as the phrase rings wrong in her mind–why are only certain people deemed worthy to be missed?–Happi and her sister Genny embark on a journey to honor Kezi in their own way, using an heirloom copy of The Negro Motorist Green Book as their guide. But there’s a twist to Kezi’s story that no one could’ve ever expected–one that will change everything all over again.

Roman and Jewel by Dana L. Davis Inkyard Press

If Romeo and Juliet got the Hamilton treatment…who would play the leads? This vividly funny, honest, and charming romantic novel by Dana L. Davis is the story of a girl who thinks she has what it takes…and the world thinks so, too.

Jerzie Jhames will do anything to land the lead role in Broadway’s hottest new show, Roman and Jewel, a Romeo and Juliet inspired hip-hopera featuring a diverse cast and modern twists on the play. But her hopes are crushed when she learns mega-star Cinny won the lead…and Jerzie is her understudy.

Falling for male lead Zeppelin Reid is a terrible idea–especially once Jerzie learns Cinny wants him for herself. Star-crossed love always ends badly. But when a video of Jerzie and Zepp practicing goes viral and the entire world weighs in on who should play Jewel, Jerzie learns that while the price of fame is high, friendship, family, and love are priceless.

The Awakening of Malcom X by Ilyasah Shabazz & Tiffany D. Jackson Farrar, Straus and Giroux (Byr)

In Charlestown Prison, Malcolm Little struggles with the weight of his past. Plagued by nightmares, Malcolm drifts through days unsure of his future. Slowly, he befriends other prisoners and writes to his family. He reads all the books in the prison library, joins the debate team and the Nation of Islam. Malcolm grapples with race, politics, religion, and justice in the 1940s. And as his time in jail comes to an end, he begins to awaken — emerging from prison more than just Malcolm Little: Now, he is Malcolm X.

Here is an intimate look at Malcolm X’s young adult years. While this book chronologically follows X: A Novel, it can be read as a stand-alone historical novel that invites larger discussions on black power, prison reform, and civil rights.

When You Look Like Us by Pamela N. Harris HarperCollins

When you look like us—brown skin, brown eyes, black braids or fades—people think you’re trouble. No one looks twice at a missing black girl from the projects because she must’ve brought whatever happened to her upon herself. I, Jay Murphy, can admit that, for a minute, I thought my sister, Nicole, got too caught up with her boyfriend—a drug dealer—and his friends.

But she’s been gone too long now.

If I hadn’t hung up on her that night, she’d be spending time with our grandma. If I was a better brother, she’d be finishing senior year instead of being another name on a missing persons list. It’s time to step up and do what the Newport News police department won’t.

Week of January 12th

Chlorine Sky by Mahogany L. Browne Crown Books for Young Readers

She looks me hard in my eyes & my knees lock into tree trunks My eyes don’t dance like my heartbeat racing They stare straight back hot daggers. I remember things will never be the same. I remember things.

With gritty and heartbreaking honesty, Mahogany L. Browne delivers a novel-in-verse about broken promises, fast rumors, and when growing up means growing apart from your best friend.

The Meet-Cute Project by Rhiannon Richardson Simon & Schuster

Mia’s friends love rom-coms. Mia hates them. They’re silly, contrived, and not at all realistic. Besides, there are more important things to worry about—like how to handle living with her bridezilla sister, Sam, who’s never appreciated Mia, and surviving junior year juggling every school club offered and acing all of her classes.

So when Mia is tasked with finding a date to her sister’s wedding, her options are practically nonexistent.

Mia’s friends, however, have an idea. It’s a little crazy, a little out there, and a lot inspired by the movies they love that Mia begrudgingly watches too.

Mia just needs a meet-cute.

Concrete Rose (The Hate U Give, #0) by Angie Thomas Balzer + Bray

If there’s one thing seventeen-year-old Maverick Carter knows, it’s that a real man takes care of his family. As the son of a former gang legend, Mav does that the only way he knows how: dealing for the King Lords. With this money he can help his mom, who works two jobs while his dad’s in prison.

Life’s not perfect, but with a fly girlfriend and a cousin who always has his back, Mav’s got everything under control.

Until, that is, Maverick finds out he’s a father.

Suddenly he has a baby, Seven, who depends on him for everything. But it’s not so easy to sling dope, finish school, and raise a child. So when he’s offered the chance to go straight, he takes it. In a world where he’s expected to amount to nothing, maybe Mav can prove he’s different.

When King Lord blood runs through your veins, though, you can’t just walk away. Loyalty, revenge, and responsibility threaten to tear Mav apart, especially after the brutal murder of a loved one. He’ll have to figure out for himself what it really means to be a man.

Angel of Greenwood by Randi Pink Feiwel and Friends

Seventeen-year-old Isaiah Wilson is, on the surface, a town troublemaker, but is hiding that he is an avid reader and secret poet, never leaving home without his journal. A passionate follower of WEB. Du Bois, he believes that black people should rise up to claim their place as equals.

Sixteen-year-old Angel Hill is a loner, mostly disregarded by her peers as a goody-goody. Her father is dying, and her family’s financial situation is in turmoil. Also, as a loyal follower of Booker T. Washington, she believes, through education and tolerance, that black people should rise slowly and without forced conflict.

Though they’ve attended the same schools, Isaiah never noticed Angel as anything but a dorky, Bible toting church girl. Then their English teacher offers them a job on her mobile library, a three-wheel, two-seater bike. Angel can’t turn down the money and Isaiah is soon eager to be in such close quarters with Angel every afternoon.

But life changes on May 31, 1921 when a vicious white mob storms the community of Greenwood, leaving the town destroyed and thousands of residents displaced. Only then, Isaiah, Angel, and their peers realize who their real enemies are.

Week of January 19th

Thirty Talks Weird Love by Alessandra Narváez Varela Cinco Puntos Press

Out of nowhere, a lady comes up to Anamaría and says she’s her, from the future. But Anamaría’s thirteen, she knows better than to talk to some weirdo stranger. Girls need to be careful, especially in Ciudad Juárez, Mexico—it’s the 90’s and fear is overtaking her beloved city as cases of kidnapped girls and women become alarmingly common. This thirty-year-old “future” lady doesn’t seem to be dangerous but she won’t stop bothering her, switching between cheesy Hallmark advice about being kind to yourself, and some mysterious talk about saving a girl.

Anamaría definitely doesn’t need any saving, she’s doing just fine. She works hard at her strict, grade-obsessed middle school—so hard that she hardly gets any sleep; so hard that the stress makes her snap not just at mean girls but even her own (few) friends; so hard that when she does sleep she dreams about dying—but she just wants to do the best she can so she can grow up to be successful. Maybe Thirty’s right, maybe she’s not supposed to be so exhausted with her life, but how can she ask for help when her city is mourning the much bigger tragedy of its stolen girls?

This thought-provoking, moving verse novel will lead adult and young adult readers alike to vital discussions on important topics—like dealing with depression and how to recognize this in yourself and others—through the accessible voice of a thirteen-year-old girl.

Your Corner Dark by Desmond Hall Atheneum/Dlouhy

Things can change in a second:

The second Frankie Green gets that scholarship letter, he has his ticket out of Jamaica.

The second his longtime crush, Leah, asks him on a date, he’s in trouble.

The second his father gets shot, suddenly nothing else matters.

And the second Frankie joins his uncle’s gang in exchange for paying for his father’s medical bills, there’s no going back…or is there?

As Frankie does things he never thought he’d be capable of, he’s forced to confront the truth of the family and future he was born into—and the ones he wants to build for himself.

Last Night at the Telegraph Club by Malinda Lo Dutton Books for Young Readers

“That book. It was about two women, and they fell in love with each other.” And then Lily asked the question that had taken root in her, that was even now unfurling its leaves and demanding to be shown the sun: “Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

Seventeen-year-old Lily Hu can’t remember exactly when the question took root, but the answer was in full bloom the moment she and Kathleen Miller walked under the flashing neon sign of a lesbian bar called the Telegraph Club.

America in 1954 is not a safe place for two girls to fall in love, especially not in Chinatown. Red-Scare paranoia threatens everyone, including Chinese Americans like Lily. With deportation looming over her father—despite his hard-won citizenship—Lily and Kath risk everything to let their love see the light of day.

If I Tell You the Truth by Jasmin Kaur HarperCollins

Told in prose, poetry, and illustration, this heartrending story weaves Kiran’s and Sahaara’s timelines together, showing a teenage Kiran and, later, her high school–aged daughter, Sahaara.

Kiran is a young Punjabi Sikh woman who becomes pregnant after being sexually assaulted by her fiancé’s brother. When her fiancé and family don’t believe her, she flees her home in India to Canada, where she plans to raise the child as a single mother. For Kiran, living undocumented means constant anxiety over finances, work, safety, and whether she’ll be deported back to the dangers that await her in Punjab.

Eighteen years later, Kiran’s daughter, Sahaara, is desperate to help her mother, who has been arrested and is facing deportation. In the aftermath, Kiran reveals the truth about Sahaara’s conception. Horrified, Sahaara encourages Kiran to speak out against the man who raped her—who’s now a popular political figure in Punjab. Sahaara must find the best way to support her mother while also dealing with the revelation about her parents.

We Free the Stars (Sands of Arawiya #2) by Hafsah Faizal Farrar, Straus and Giroux

The battle on Sharr is over. The dark forest has fallen. Altair may be captive, but Zafira, Nasir, and Kifah are bound for Sultan’s Keep, determined to finish the plan he set in motion: restoring the hearts of the Sisters of Old to the minarets of each caliphate, and finally returning magic to all of Arawiya. But they are low on resources and allies alike, and the kingdom teems with fear of the Lion of the Night’s return.

As the zumra plots to overthrow the kingdom’s darkest threat, Nasir fights to command the magic in his blood. He must learn to hone his power into a weapon, to wield not only against the Lion but against his father, trapped under the Lion’s control. Zafira battles a very different darkness festering in her through her bond with the Jawarat—a darkness that hums with voices, pushing her to the brink of her sanity and to the edge of a chaos she dare not unleash. In spite of the darkness enclosing ever faster, Nasir and Zafira find themselves falling into a love they can’t stand to lose…but time is running out to achieve their ends, and if order is to be restored, drastic sacrifices will have to be made.

Lush and striking, hopeful and devastating, We Free the Stars is the masterful conclusion to the Sands of Arawiya duology by New York Times–bestselling author Hafsah Faizal.

Week of January 26th

Written in Starlight (Woven in Moonlight #2) by Isabel Ibañez Page Street Kids

If the jungle wants you, it will have you…

Catalina Quiroga is a Condesa without a country. She’s lost the Inkasisa throne, the loyalty of her people, and her best friend. Banished to the perilous Yanu Jungle, Catalina knows her chances of survival are slim, but that won’t stop her from trying to escape. It’s her duty to reclaim the throne.

When Manuel, the son of her former general, rescues Catalina from a jaguar, a plan forms. Deep in the jungle, the city of gold is hidden, home to the fierce Illari people, who she could strike an alliance with.

But the elusive Illari are fighting a battle of their own—a mysterious blight is corrupting the jungle, laying waste to everything they hold dear. As a seer, Catalina should be able to help, but her ability to read the future in the stars is as feeble as her survival instincts. While searching for the Illari, Catalina must reckon with her duty and her heart to find her true calling, which could be the key to stopping the corruption before it destroys the jungle completely.

The Knockout by Sajni Patel Flux

If seventeen-year-old Kareena Thakkar is going to alienate herself from the entire Indian community, she might as well do it gloriously. She’s landed the chance of a lifetime, an invitation to the US Muay Thai Open, which could lead to a spot on the first-ever Olympic team. If only her sport wasn’t seen as something too rough for girls, something she’s afraid to share with anyone outside of her family. Despite pleasing her parents, exceling at school, and making plans to get her family out of debt, Kareena’s never felt quite Indian enough, and her training is only making it worse.

Which is inconvenient, since she’s starting to fall for Amit Patel, who just might be the world’s most perfect Indian. Admitting her feelings for Amit will cost Kareena more than just her pride–she’ll have to face his parents’ disapproval, battle her own insecurities, and remain focused for the big fight. Kareena’s bid for the Olympics could very well make history–if she has the courage to go for it.

Wings of Ebony (Wings of Ebony #1) by J. Elle Denene Millner Books/Simon Schuster Books for Young Readers

“Make a way out of no way” is just the way of life for Rue. But when her mother is shot dead on her doorstep, life for her and her younger sister changes forever. Rue’s taken from her neighborhood by the father she never knew, forced to leave her little sister behind, and whisked away to Ghizon—a hidden island of magic wielders.

Rue is the only half-god, half-human there, where leaders protect their magical powers at all costs and thrive on human suffering. Miserable and desperate to see her sister on the anniversary of their mother’s death, Rue breaks Ghizon’s sacred Do Not Leave Law and returns to Houston, only to discover that Black kids are being forced into crime and violence. And her sister, Tasha, is in danger of falling sway to the very forces that claimed their mother’s life.

Worse still, evidence mounts that the evil plaguing East Row is the same one that lurks in Ghizon—an evil that will stop at nothing until it has stolen everything from her and everyone she loves. Rue must embrace her true identity and wield the full magnitude of her ancestors’ power to save her neighborhood before the gods burn it to the ground.

#new releases #weneeddiversebooks #ownvoices

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mollymauk-teafleak · 4 years

Text

Missing You

Please consider reblogging and leaving a comment over on Ao3! Getting feedback really means a lot, especially in a small fandom

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Alec comes home from a job and finds an empty house. Missing his talímenios and needing to fill the time, he decides to do something he'd never, ever admit to Seregil.

Until Seregil comes home early.

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Alec knew Wheel Street was his home, he knew he was as much the master of the house as Seregil was. But the place never felt quite right without his talímenios.

It was like whenever he was out, answering some summons or running an errand or out on business that didn’t belong to Lord Seregil at all, part of Alec was thrown years into the past. Somewhere inside himself, he was the naive, shell shocked wanderer from the north all over again. He was wandering these corridors stuffed with luxury and feeling completely out of place, like he’d stumbled into a world he wasn’t meant to be in, given a name that wasn’t his own and a life that didn’t quite fit.

But he had grown into that life, he knew that. Playing Sir Alec came naturally now, the airs of nobility and the smooth charm of a handsome Rhíminee rake fit comfortably like a pair of boots he’d worn all his life. He couldn’t be more different from that scared, nervous boy.

But by the Four, it was so much easier with Seregil.

Fortunately, there was no one to perform for. He didn’t walk in the front door decked out as a young noble, he entered in much the same way he had the very first time he’d ever entered the house. Cloaked in black he made what, he hoped at least, was a much neater, smoother entrance than back then, over the wall and up through their bedchamber’s window. The whole house was still shuttered and dark, it’s masters apparently out at The Dragon tonight, dicing and flirting and drinking shamelessly.

Once inside, Alec pulled the black mask away from his face and sighed deeply, inhaling the familiar, comforting smells of their shared life together. He hoped Seregil was having fun, distracting their mark at the gambling tables while Alec feigned overindulgence in the Dragon’s infamous whiskey and climbed out the bathroom window to go and reclaim the man’s spurned lover’s trinket. The Cat would rob him behind his back while Lord Seregil robbed his purse in front of tens of eager, well bred eyes; it was a ploy they’d used hundreds of times before.

But there would always be this lonely, eerily quiet time when Alec had returned but Seregil was still out, leaving him to rattle around in their empty chambers, full of adrenaline and missing his lover. That buzz of electricity through his nerves, the pounding heart that refused to slow even after the job was done, the bubbling energy was all very easy to remedy when they worked as a pair. Nearly every time they’d simply fall into bed together, if they could make it that far and didn’t end up rutting in the bushes and ruining the flowers, lose a good few hours in each other and fall asleep immediately, exhausted and satisfied entirely by their night.

Alone, Alec was left to fidget in the darkness and miss his lover in more ways than one, annoying enough that he almost regretted being chosen as the one to play the Cat. Everything just came so much easier with Seregil beside him.

He undressed to give himself something to do, freeing his braid from it’s wrap and slipping out of his shirt and trousers, it all becoming one uniform mass of coal black silk on the floor. He would have left it there if he didn’t remember Seregil’s repeated, exasperated reminders to properly tidy up after himself, especially after playing Cat. He would always tap his nose and say firmly that a job wasn’t properly complete until every scrap of evidence tying them to the break in was dealt with. Alec could be as careful as he liked but if someone came in here and saw a pile of clearly worn clothes, tailored exactly to fit a burglar of his size, what conclusions would be drawn?

So Alec sighed and gathered the clothes into a bundle, making himself fold them properly and take them over to the wardrobe. Past the coats and trousers all hung neatly in rows, there was a compartment set cunningly into the back of the thing where they could store all of their more sensitive accessories. Though, in order to be so neatly concealed, it was damn hard to get open. Alec had to wrestle with fine velvets and leathers and linens for nearly five minutes just to shove the damn things back in, proving to himself why he never usually bothered.

And to make matters worse, he spent those five minutes inhaling Seregil’s scent, his perfume and soap and natural amber musk of his skin. His favourite dark brown coat was the first in the wardrobe, not fine enough for the Dragon but the one he wore every day if he was going around as Lord Seregil and sometimes even at the Stag and Otter, he liked it so much.

Feeling like a fool but unable to stop himself, Alec reached for that coat rather than his sleeping shirt. Just a moment, he told himself, a moment so he could shake off the adrenaline and the want. Seregil wouldn’t be home until the small hours of the morning if history was any teacher, Alec could remember a handful of nights they’d spent carousing until a reasonable late breakfast time the next day. With the hour just gone midnight, there was plenty of time for the coat to be returned well before its owner, Seregil never the wiser to how childishly his lover had acted at being without him for a night.

Though he was cringing in embarrassment at himself, Alec wrapped the coat around his shoulders and went to lie in the middle of their bed. Immediately he felt some of the itchiness fade, the adrenaline start to ease. He felt like he was at home, like the job was truly done and he was home safe. Sighing softly, he turned his face into the collar of the coat and imagined Seregil’s arms around him, imagined his lover’s musical voice telling him he’d done him proud and could rest now, that all was well.

It did wonders for the shakes, wearing Seregil’s clothing. But the ache of want, the need, only grew fiercer.

It was getting physical now, the bloom of warmth and the tug and pull of muscles between his bare legs that told Alec, without looking, that he was getting hard. It was like a dog responding to an expected command, his body knew the reward for a well done job and was chafing at the lack. Alec was embarrassed for certain but also curious, wondering where these feelings were coming from, so much rawer and deeper than usual.

But lying there wrapped in nothing but his talímenios’ coat, trying to think with a stiff cock and a deep well of need inside him, it wasn’t going to get him any answers. Alec buried deeper into the fabric and groaned, knowing exactly what he was about to do.

Seregil wouldn’t mind, he was certain, if he ever found out. Not that Alec was ever going to tell him.

Seregil slipped off his boots at the door and closed it softly behind him, wanting to move quickly and silently. There was a pleasing buzz of wine and dice running through his veins but that was far from the reason he wore a grin that stretched a mile as he padded up the stairs. He couldn’t wait to see his talímenios’ face when he surprised him, hours earlier than he’d promised to be home.

He’d caught from their mark, in the course of increasingly sloppy, drunken conversation that he wasn’t even going home that night, going on to spend the hours with some other lover. Lord Seregil had made some lascivious comment that had earned him a loud laugh and a slap on the back that had sent the last of his wine spilling over their cards, while inside Seregil had sighed in relief. With no imminent arrival at the house and the man’s wife off in the country, there was no need to keep him occupied to let Alec work. He was free to take his leave, step outside of the Dragon and immediately look far less drunk than he’d appeared to be inside it, riding home to his love.

Seregil did love it when Illior brought things together so neatly. He knew Alec would be missing him, not to flatter himself too much. It was only that he’d watched his talímenios enough times after Cat work, he’d seen the way he would curl in close against him and seek out comfort and often more. Though they hadn’t been at this together for very long, back in the city from Aurënen only for a few months, he’d been sorely regretting not being there to give him the closeness he knew his lover would be needing.

He understood it, of course, the way a night of risks and thrills could so easily turn into passion and a need for intimacy. Before the best, most fortuitous day of his life when he’d found the other half of his heart shivering in that northern dungeon, Seregil’s nights spent as the Rhíminee Cat would often end at the Street of Lights.

But now he had Alec. He had a warm home and a circle of arms to run home to and right now, he couldn’t believe his luck.

There was no light creeping in from under their chamber door, he could see it from the top of the stairs. Mischievous ideas took root in Seregil’s mind. Perhaps Alec wasn’t even home yet and he could arrange some kind of surprise to be waiting for him when he got home.

Seregil had sharp ears. But still, it wasn’t until his hand was on the brass, muscles tensed and ready to push back the door, that he heard it. The soft moan, the whisper of his name from the room within. Alec was just that quiet.

Seregil’s eyes opened wide and his jaw dropped. For a moment, he was just stunned, unable to do anything but absorb the weight of the silence that preceded the gasp of pleasure. And then his slack jawed shock turned slowly into a bright, hungry grin.

“Oh my dear talímenios…” he breathed softly.

Alec’s heart nearly stopped at the soft knock at the door. Immediately the illusion he’d built up was shattered, his hand flying from his cock and jerking up into a sitting position, “Who-”

“It’s Seregil, talí...can I come in?”

Alec’s face burst into flame, wincing, “I...I thought you weren’t going to be home until later, I’m sor-”

“Don’t,” Seregil stopped his apology before it could fully leave his lips, voice firm but warm, “Can I come in?”

“I suppose,” Alec groaned, knowing there was know way out of this, drawing deeper into the coat, trying to kneel so his arousal wasn’t as obvious.

There was nothing for it though. He heard the door push back, creaking slightly, the soft movement of fabric as Seregil drew a lightstone from his pocket and illumination blossomed between them. Already he was smirking crookedly, eyes alight with mischief. Alec himself was thrown into sharp relief, cheeks flushed red, hair matted at the back as he’d writhed against the pillow. The coat only served to highlight what he’d been doing, draping between his legs but the bulge in the fabric was obvious.

After a long pause where Seregil only grinned deliciously and Alec’s cheeks grew warmer, he finally sighed and said, “You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Not in the slightest,” Seregil purred.

“I...I missed you,” Alec admitted, blue eyes finding Seregil’s, “I wanted you.”

“Of course, talí,” Seregil cooed, letting his fine plum velvet coat fall from his shoulders and slump to the floor, “The same reason I rushed home to you the moment I could.”

Alec shivered, relaxing, “Really?”

“Oh of course,” Seregil dropped his waistcoat too, sitting back in the chair by their desk as he undid the top few buttons of his shirt, “But now I’m here...I’d rather like to see you finish what you’d started, my love.”

Alec’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening. After a nod and an encouraging smile from Seregil, he moved back onto the pillows, spreading his legs again. Seregil leaned back and grinned appreciatively.

“What were you thinking of, talí? As you touched yourself?”

Alec swallowed, Seregil caught every movement of the apple in his throat, “You. That’s why I wore your coat, I...I wanted to smell you, to feel like you were near.”

Seregil felt a rush of genuine fondness, carefully putting it to one side for the sweetness that would come after this, “And now I am, dear heart. So put on a show for me, yes?”

Alec did, eyes never leaving Seregil’s face, his long, clever fingers moving the coat’s hem aside to reveal his erection, blushed and thick and close to release. Not that Seregil had any intention of letting him get it so soon.

His fingers were deft but direct, moving immediately just to stroke himself, aiming for one thing and intending to get there soon.

“No, no, talí,” Seregil said, watching intently, grey gaze piercing, “Slowly. Carefully. I asked for a show, didn’t I?”

“Right…” Alec slowed his strokes, showing the play of muscles in his wrist as his grip tightened and loosened along his length. In the low light, it was like a form of magic.

“Is that all you know, dear heart?” Seregil hummed, leaning forward over his knees, eyes sparkling, “Is that the only way you’d ever use to pleasure yourself?”

Alec blinked, his mouth slackening and eyes growing hazy, “I...yes, I think so. It’s all I remember doing.”

“Then allow me to educate you. Soak two of your fingers in your mouth then gather some of the slick currently running down your pretty cock, it will help. Be sure to keep stroking yourself as you do but don’t finish,” he made his voice low, a command, unsurprised at the immediate twitch of Alec’s cock.

Alec was panting now, around his fingers as he swirled his tongue over them, making them shine in the low light. Seregil wanted to kiss him so badly it hurt but he made himself wait. The denial only made the eventual release sweeter.

Once his first two fingers were soaked with spit and slick, Seregil could see Alec was actively fighting back the urge to finish himself. He only had to raise his eyebrow and his lover slowed, determined to obey.

“Now. Put them in yourself.”

Alec whimpered, swallowing hard but doing as he was bid. After some gentle teasing, his fingers sunk willingly into his hole. With his legs spread as they were, Seregil didn’t miss a moment of it.

“Now find where it feels good. You’ll have to go quite deep, sweetling,” he smirked, “Watch your other hand, you’re stalling.”

Alec was clearly struggling to focus, jaw tight, chest now rising and falling heavily, moans that became higher and more strained falling from his lips. When his searching fingers found that knot of nerves inside him, he nearly screamed, voice splintering and face tight.

“Good,” Seregil shifted so his burning erection couldn’t escape Alec’s notice as it strained against the fabric of his trousers, “Now both of them. Bring yourself as close as you can bear.”

Alec stroked himself and rolled his fingers across his sweet spot, eyes fixed pleadingly on Seregil. He now formed his name shamelessly, pleading for release, those grey eyes burning where they raked across his skin. The fact that his pleasure was entirely in his hands, even from such a distance, clothed while he was exposed, in control while he fell apart, it was something daring and new and delicious.

And of course his talímenios made him wait right until the very last second, right up until it was almost unbearable. Only then did he smile indulgently, wave his hand airily and say, “Let go, my love.”

Alec did, as soon as the words fell from his mouth. With a loud, wavering cry of release, he spurted across his fist, back arching and muscles clenching tight. The moment itself felt like it stretched, the pleasure crashing over him again and again until eventually it let him go and he fell back, muscles aching and lungs heaving.

Immediately, Seregil was there, crouched over him as his lips caught Alec’s in a soft, sweet kiss. Alec whimpered into his talímenios’ mouth, enjoying that simple contact as much as anything he’d experienced that night.

“Did you enjoy that, my love?” Seregil whispered, smiling gently.

“Oh gods, immensely,” Alec gasped, still breathless, “What did I do to deserve you?”

“You were your wonderful self,” he kissed him again, leaning into it more now, “Now...catch your breath. As soon as you’re ready, I’m taking off these damnable trousers and you’re going to show me what you learned. Yes?”

Alec’s eyes widened and he smiled, “Oh yes.”

As they laughed and kissed and tumbled into each other’s arms, Alec felt it stronger than ever. Things really were so much easier with Seregil.

#nightrunners #seregil i korit #alec i amasa #seregil x alec #stag and otter #smut #lots of smut #honestly #please consider reblogging and leaving a comment!

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wwwafflewrites · 4 years

Text

A Rewrite of History

Chapter 1—Pilot

Even in such horrible times, you could find some good in the world. For instance: at least none of this was your fault. Like, usually this kind of stuff was your fault, but not even you could botch something so royally.

One minute, you were walking into the kitchen, at home, on a crucial mission for pizza rolls, and the next, you were standing on gravel. You looked on with sickening dread at the salvage yard and immediately recognized it. A rusty lot of cars and suspiciously-shaped, freshly-dug patches of dirt…This was from Supernatural. Bobby’s place, to be in fact. The Singer Salvage Yard.

You pivoted, staring at the mass of cars surrounding you, trying to make some sense of this. But you were dumbfounded. Your jaw went slack, as you took in your surroundings.

Fact was, you had just watched the season finale with your best friend, and you were justifiably upset. That finale was a train-wreck of emotions. But… not so upset you had wanted to be a part of the story. Well, okay, everyone has thought about being a part of the story, but you were at least modest enough to admit that if there was any character going to live, it wouldn’t be you. With your luck, you’d be the star blood splatter of the first five minutes.

You dumbly dawdled around the salvage yard, staring at the cars. This wasn’t possible. This was a dream. You just fell asleep on your couch and your best friend was going to find you drooling and dreaming about pizza rolls.

You threw a hand in front of your face, trying to justify this reasoning, but everything was too vivid. Not even a lucid dream could invent this. This… this was scarily real.

A door slam behind you sobered you up quick, and you threw yourself down and behind a car. Bobby would not take too kindly to a stranger on his property, you didn’t think. That is, if he hadn’t seen you already. In hindsight, you could have used some help, but you were too much of a coward to face him.

You tucked your arms into your chest, and then froze when there was a crinkle of paper in your right pocket. That hadn’t been there before. Keeping in mind that Bobby was walking around somewhere in the lot, you quietly unfolded the wad of newspapers. Skimming, you realized they all had one thing in common. Missing persons from Jericho, California. All ten spaced out throughout the years.

Wait, wasn’t that the plot of Supernatural’s Pilot?

Your eyes widened. This is where it all started.

“Who’s out there?!” a voice bellowed. Bobby Singer.

Looks like you hadn’t been as quiet as you’d thought. You needed a game plan—and fast.

You sprung up from your hiding spot and leaped for the most reliable looking car in your range. A gunshot rang out; it was much louder than you expected.

“Hey!” he cried.

I am so sorry, Bobby.

You hopped in the backseat, thankful for the keys hanging from the mirror. You scrambled grab and fit them in the ignition, the jingling only making your heart race fast. More shots were fired, this time denting the metal and blowing out the back window's glass. The engine burst with life, and you burned rubber.

Once you were a safer distance away, you hid behind the seat and shouted out to him, “What year is it?”

“Why the hell would I tell you?!” More shots ricocheted off the metal and you recoiled.

Good point.

You decided to chance and pause the car, peeking your head out, and ducked when bullets sprayed in your direction. “Please?! It’s important!” you shouted, hoping he would confirm what you already feared.

He had taken a defensive stance ten feet from the running car, prepared to fire if he saw eyes. “What, you come from the future or something? It’s 2005, ” he snarled. You knew he was being sarcastic, but it was the painful truth.

“Or something,” you murmured. So, this was it. Fifteen years in the future, and all the knowledge you needed to change it. You could change everything. You could save them from the pain they were going to endure. You could—

You could do anything, at this point.

Then, after a beat, you shouted, “I’m really sorry about your car!” And you sped off, already reeling in the small and neglected vehicle. This wasn’t going to be a fun ride.

More shots fired, and you distantly heard him holler in frustration. You didn’t blame him; you’d want to kill you too.

///

If Bobby could see you right now, he’d be laughing. The excuse of a vehicle had begun sputtering thirty miles in, and after forty miles, it began lurching to a stop. You punched the steering wheel.

It was karma.

You closed your eyes, then looked glumly at the passenger seat. There was a good-sized, blue rucksack situated beside you, which you could swear hadn't been there a moment before.

You blinked. Apprehensively, you reached for the bag. You raise your eyebrows at the heavy feeling of it, and you unfastened it.

Inside was a pistol, a silver knife, a sack of salt, cash, and shockingly, an angel blade. Christ. Well, wasn't that just subtle. That would definitely go well with everyone.

Lastly, you pulled out a small note.

We won’t let you die until the future runs a different path.

You scoffed a little, but your stomach clenched nervously. What did they mean, ‘let you die’? Was that a threat? You certainly didn’t want to die, so you didn’t see how that was encouraging at all. What, were they really expecting you to have no regards for yourself and just… blindly interfere with the Winchesters? You were scared, but you weren’t stupid.

You flipped the note, and there were more words:

Tell, and your companion will rot.

You couldn't help the stutter in your breath. This note was written by someone who knew you weren’t from here. They had your best friend. This was blackmail.

Meddling with history or not, you were going to need the Winchesters’ help. So your obvious choice was to help them anyway, right? Jump on their side, and when Big Brother wasn't tuning in, approach them for help.

You figured that there was only one thing that could possibly change the future so early in time. Something that was supposed to throw Sam Winchester back on the road with his brother.

Jessica's death.

You ended up jettisoning the car, Bobby probably would have tracked it anyway. It had been a four mile jog, wasting more than half an hour of your time already, but fortunately happened by a small gas station. Where there were gas stations, there were cars.

You walked in the respectable business, making a beeline for the newspaper. November 1st. Jessica was supposed to die tomorrow. You were going to have to pull an all-nighter. Dusk 'til dawn.

You sighed. This was real. This was actually happening.

Walking back outside the business, you began to choose the best victim—or in other words, a car.

There was a little Ford a few blocks away, hidden from the gas station’s cameras and out of view from Mainstreet. You closed in on your target, scanning for watchful eyes. From the looks of it, you were safe.

You peered into the vehicle. There were crumbs, pop cans, and some fast food wrappers on the floor, but it was reasonable—nothing you couldn't tidy up later. You couldn’t afford to be choosy.

You smashed the glass with the heel of your pistol, careful to conceal the weapon. You didn’t need more trouble than you were already in.

You hot-wired the car. It was a rough start because you hadn’t actually ever hot-wired a car before, but the wiki-how article you’d read in the past for a certain fanfic was proving useful.

Muttering an apology to the family who'd owned this vehicle, you drove off and buckled up for a long drive. You just hoped you'd make it in time. After all, you have to drive through four states to get there, and you'd probably be stuck sleeping crooked in the car at a rest stop.

You didn't have enough money to pay for a real bed. There was five hundred dollars in the backpack, but that was for food and gas money. You couldn't afford to blow it all on one night's sleep. This had to last you for who knew how long. Months? That really wasn't much to live on, if you thought about it.

Clearly, the person who had put you here had no knowledge of human spending. Because, wow, was money going to be tight. You were broke.

You finally pulled into a rest stop at two in the morning after yawning, straining, and heavily blinking at the road for a solid thirty minutes. You thought you could push through the night by blasting tunes, but at that point, you knew you were a danger on the road and you needed to rest.

Your mind wanted sleep, but the world was against you. Your mind kept going back to the note, and then to Jessica, doubting you could make it in time to her.

You leaned your seat back, shuffling and trying to make yourself comfortable. Because if there was one thing the Winchesters did, it was drive all over the goddamn nation, so you'd better get used to the feeling.

You cried yourself to sleep.

///

You'd never been to California.

Your impression of Palo Alto was, for the most part, a decent one. It was sunny, which you had anticipated. Downtown was pretty chill, with bikers and pedestrians left and right. Trees were everywhere, providing shade as a compliment to the harsh sun. You respected Palo Alto. You did. It had a nice, suburban feel to it.

The only trouble was the traffic. You were stuck in a constant go-lurch go-lurch motion for a half and hour. And it was getting too close to Jessica’s death for comfort.

By the time you got to the street you wanted, it was getting late. You were a little desperate to get there before the demon did. With a little Sam and Dean level investigation, wit, and lies, you found yourself on your way to Sam's home. Instead of breaking in the doorway, you climbed in through a loose window with a pry of your knife.

You weren't alone. Brady, Sam's college friend had a maniacal grin on his face, twirling his fingers at the ceiling. "You're just in time for the show."

You stared in devastation at Jessica, who was half dead currently, gasping on the ceiling and pleading for her life. If you hadn't gone to that rest stop, you would've been there in time. You could have saved Jess.

The smirk he wore was starting to bore a hole into you. Mortified, you backed away from Brady. You gripped the angel blade in your bag, which was loosely hung at your shoulder. But he vanished, leaving you with a dead girl on the ceiling and a sick feeling in your gut.

"Jess?" someone called out from the front of the house. "You home?"

You froze. Sam was home. No no no no no—!

There was a pause, and then you saw Sam come around the door-frame. He froze as well. You were both unsure what to make of each other.

"Who are you?" he demanded from the other side of the room.

You couldn't really breathe right, much less speak.

Your last brain cell realized that at any second the house was going to burst into flames. You had to get out. Now.

Sam noticed the red splat on the bed, and looked up. His expression morphed into one of devastation, and from there, you knew you’d never forget it. He looked so damn young, and to see the look of loss as he cried out his girlfriend’s name was absolutely heartbreaking. And it was all your fault.

Flames erupted around Jessica before you had the opportunity to say anything.

That's about when Dean rushed in, shouting his brother’s name and locking himself around Sam to pull him back away from the fire. Away from Jess.

You broke into a fit of coughing, breaking your train of thought. Blindly, you reached for the window again, batting at the latch. Climbing out took some effort, but you wiggled your way through the small window, collapsing in a heap on the ground. You were still wheezing when you got up. You needed to get the hell out of dodge. Because Sam Winchester now believed you murdered Jessica.

///

Tags: X

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shardminds · 4 years

Text

fortune favours the brave

pairing: emma swan/killian jones rated: m (for language & depiction of injury & just to be safe) wc: 5189 pacific rim!au

She passes the pseudo-drift but Killian can’t quite meet her eyes afterwards and Emma catches herself wondering, with clenched fists, if it’s all worth it.

just a warning, this is an open-ended work, meaning the ending is up to your own interpretation and i most likely will not be writing anything else to clarify... unless i decide to have another crack at this au down the line and completely rewrite the whole thing but i am a lazy bitch above all else with too many things to do so please don't get your hopes up!

my initial tag for this was "dealing with the weight of a neurological bond that reveals a lot more about yourself than you’d like." but ao3 said it was too long

this was intended as a birthday present to myself but it's 12 days late and i won't apologise.

also available on ao3 ♠

@artistic-writer is my saviour and i love her.

As soon as the pincer hits her spine, the simulation is over. Quicker than death could ever have captured her, quicker than the pain she was expecting in her lower back, quicker than blinking past a fallen beast and thinking it long past dead. If it were real, she wouldn’t have to deal with the disappointment of her superiors as they marked another tally in the opposite column of their tablets.

Kaiju: 3, Swan: 0.

Pixels dissipate into the air, audios and visuals power down as the relay gel leaks from her display, Killian sighs over the comms and the four walls of the training centre scream failure. Unclasping the plug at her neck, she collapses to the floor. Defeated.

“If your intention was to get paralysed, love, congratulations.” He’s exasperated, words clipped, and she knows he’s probably running his hand through his hair in that way he does or rolling his eyes or praying for this to be over. She can picture it so well because she’s been there, supervising rangers through the same process. That had been her job, her safe space. Then Marshal Mills had coerced her into a compatibility trial with the promise of a bigger bunk and a night off with the last bottle of bourbon on deck. Suddenly, nowhere was safe anymore. “It’s just a simple test,” she’d said, rolling her eyes at Emma’s reluctance to even try. “What harm can it do?”

If he catches the curses under her breath as she stands, he doesn’t let on.

Killian had managed to pass her simulated drift space on the second attempt—eviscerating a CAT 3 with ease and ignoring the distractions along the way. He didn’t talk about what stopped him the first time. Neither did she.

She was not so lucky, struggling not to forget herself in the memories of his past. Each step deeper into the consciousness he’d moulded dragged her further away from the task at hand. Each step closer to finding out what keeps Killian Jones awake at night is a step away from truly knowing him. She felt it all. His pain, grief and loss coming in overwhelming waves, only serving to intensify her own. Each time she failed, she understood him a little bit better and lost herself a little bit more.

Robin said it’s the trauma that helps their compatibility and the resilience in light of such pain. Will said it’s because they’re both insufferable cunts.

You can’t choose your drift partner.

“Again.” Adjusting the helmet slightly, she pulls up her vitals on the inner screen. BP a little high, heart rate too, brainwaves stable. Good enough. If she could just get past the random-access brain impulse triggers, the lure of Killian’s fabricated conflicts, she’d be showering the fabricated city in fabricated Kaiju Blue.

(Of course, she’d never really do that. Regina doesn’t need a reason to resent her.)

“Swan, take five.” The comm in her inner ear buzzes. Killian, again. There’s a tension to his tone, as if he could snap at a moment's notice. It’s not easy, having someone else inside your head—even when it’s not real. It’s worse when every inch of it is projected in agonisingly high definition to your commanding officers. Emma’s been living through his trauma while he’s been forced to watch it back, time and time again. She’ll get it next time.

Next time.

Always next time.

“No, count me down.”

“Swan—”

“My vitals are fine! No bleeds, no dizziness, motor function all good.” The CNS link connects to the back of her neck with a twist of her wrist and a dull click. Power vibrates through the plug suit, humming like the anticipation Emma can feel beneath her own skin. “One more try, I’m almost there.”

There’s no response from Killian. No quip or complaint. He’s silent as Emma closes her eyes and opens them to the darkness of the drift. The next voice she hears is Robin’s.

“Five.”

Her world is blue. Warped. Memories zipping past her that she does and doesn’t remember. Emma recognises one woman’s face from her previous pseudo-drifts. She has a name somewhere.

“Four.”

The woman walks off to some kind of middle distance, between nothing and nowhere. She indicates for Emma to follow with the crook of her finger and a smile.

“Three.”

It’s not Emma she’s seeing.

“Stop chasing it, Emma. Two.”

Taking a breath, Emma wills away the apparition, tuning in to the pounding of her own heartbeat and that of someone else’s — Killian’s, strong and steady. It grounds her.

“Prepare for Neural Handshake.”

When the Kaiju pincer swings for her, she slices it clean off.

She passes the pseudo-drift but Killian can’t quite meet her eyes afterwards and Emma catches herself wondering, with clenched fists, if it’s all worth it.

A CAT 3 and two CAT 2’s attack what’s left of San Francisco a week later in the largest triple event in recorded history and yes, it’s definitely worth it.

Ruby and Graham are deployed in Lone Wolf, along with two Jaegers from Alaska. The fight, like all fights, is raw and too close. Always too close. They return half a day later, lucky to have made it out with their lives. The bags under Jefferson’s eyes carry the weight of the world as he reports back to the bridge with the news.

They’ll never pilot again.

Killian finds her later, sat atop Frozen Serenity with a half-empty hip flask and a cigarette. He doesn’t question her or the tears she wears. He holds her, one arm wrapping around Emma’s shoulders, pulling her into his chest. It’s too close, too much but not enough. It’s times like this—times of wordless understanding—that she’s glad of the bond they supposedly have.

Thankfully, he doesn’t waste his words with reassurance. Regina had spent the last thirty minutes on the comms for everyone to hear. The threat was eliminated; victory, but at what cost? Ruby and Graham had been wheeled in on gurneys, surrounded by medics and techs and escorted directly to isolation. Their Jaeger followed shortly after, complete with thick gashes to its middle and a viciously pierced conn-pod leaking rivulets of coolant and Kaiju blood. It didn’t take Emma long to see why they’d ushered the pilots away.

Sneaking off had been a non-issue.

“Next time,” The warmth of his body offers only slight comfort from the chill of the hangar but she’s grateful for it. “It’ll be us.”

“We might not even drift yet. The simulation is nothing like the real thing.” The lump in her throat has her choking around the words. The fragility of it all should frighten her, but it doesn’t. She’s not scared. There’s no time for fear.

“We will.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s called trust.” When he smiles, sad but hopeful, the tears come again.

It’s all worth it, even if she loses herself in the process.

Jolly Roger, a Mark 3 with a history of fallen pilots, had been in pretty bad shape when Emma had seen it come through the east coast bunker a year ago. With a compromised pod and basically no left side, it was a mess.

Will had already sized the wreck up for parts before it’d even docked in the hangar.

“There’s no way it’ll run again. Core to Wolf, pod fixed up for Snow’s Mark 4, shocks to whoever needs them most and the rest for scraps and refurbs.” He’d said, around a mouthful of instant mac and cheese. Emma rolled her eyes, grabbing a bite of her own meagre rations. “Bet as much as you want, you know I’m right.”

After six months, when Marshal Mills announced they needed a co-pilot for Jolly, Emma collected her prize with a smile and a disgruntled “Fuck off.” from the mechanic.

Seeing it now, all shiny and new, with a fresh core, updated weapon systems and a slick paint job was like looking at a different machine entirely. Killian has the same awestruck glaze to his expression that she has.

He says something under his breath that sounds like “I missed you.”

Three days later, atop the bunker looking out at the wasteland the eastern seaboard has become, Killian finds her again. The horizon is permanently tinged green these days, thick with smog rising from the polluted city that used to be Boston. It’s something else now, something new entirely. New York had really done a number on the east coast.

“So,” he starts, a six pack in his good hand and a thick file—her file—in his mechanical one. “It seems that the fate of the earth relies on us getting intimate, love.”

Emma shrugs his comment off with an eye roll. “In your dreams.”

“In my dreams, we wouldn’t be drinking this backwash,” she catches the bundle of cans as it falls to her lap and pulls two free of the casing. Killian slumps down beside her, a welcome warmth against her side. He’s always warm. “And you’d be wearing a lot less.”

“Pervert.” Her cheeks flush from the windchill and not because of the wink he sends her way as he takes a can from her lap.

He shrugs, gulping back his beer. “I’ve been called a lot worse.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

“I doubt anything could, lass.”

He reads in relative silence, which Emma appreciates, only pausing to ask questions at the redacted statements in her story. There’s no point in hiding anything from him now—soon, he’ll see it all. There’s something about Killian Jones that she trusts and she’s not exactly sure why.

“You were there? In New York?” He thumbs the report sheet, filled with more censoring than words. She doesn’t remember much of it; being eighteen, the toils of pregnancy, wrongful imprisonment, the first Kaiju attack on the east coast, holding her child to her chest as the walls crumbled. The memories are all so distant, it almost feels like someone else lived them.

Emma nods. “Unfortunately.”

Killian doesn’t push for the details; all the relevant ones are written on the sheet he’s holding. How they’d found her bleeding beneath rubble and dust, clutching the bundle of blankets and the body within. There hadn’t been time for a funeral.

She’s shaking when he takes her hand.

“It was my first deployment. On a CAT 4, no less.” He traces circles around her knuckles as if they’re anything but strangers. She doesn’t have it in her heart to stop him. “Cataclysm, they called it. The ugliest bloody thing I’d ever seen. Liam, the comedian he is—was, spent the whole fight calling it all kinds of names as we tore it to pieces bit by bit.” He takes another sip of his can, eyes locked on the horizon. “I felt him die that day.”

His thumb doesn't stop tracing its pattern, but she grips his hand tighter—part shock, part understanding.

“Jewel never stood a chance. The emp left us wide open and the blasted thing used its last breath to launch at the conn-pod and—”

“You don’t have to, Killian.” She whispers, beer forgotten at their feet. “You don’t have to relive it.”

“But I do. Every time I step foot in the hangar, I relive it. Every time I drift, or spar or train. Every time I look in the mirror I see his face staring back at me.” He sighs, letting his posture slip further. He’s no longer a Ranger. He’s a lost boy. The grief he carries, the guilt, is something she recognises. “I miss him, Emma, and there’s nothing I can do about that.”

Wind blows, alarms ring, sun filters through the murky atmosphere and casts them both in its golden glow and Emma Swan pulls him in for a hug.

He stiffens in her embrace before leaning into it, letting the tension dissipate beneath her touch. It’s intimate in a way that doesn’t need words and her breath catches at the sight of a teardrop on his cheek.

Putting space between them again is hard, but necessary.

“I know you’ve probably heard this a thousand times, but you better be prepared to hear it a thousand more. It’s not your fault. It was never your fault. It will never be your fault. We’re Rangers. We’re disposable. The world is ending and we’re the first line of defence. If we fall—” He’s watching her so intently, hanging on her every word.

There’s no way to soften the blow of a death sentence.

“We’re going to die in a Jaeger, Killian, that much is inevitable. We won’t grow old. We won’t pass in our sleep. We’ll go screaming at the hands of a Kaiju and, I don’t know about you, but I plan on taking a fair share of those fuckers with me in the process.”

A nod.

A squeeze.

A gulp.

He’s still holding her hand when they return to the artificial warmth of the hangar.

He used to drink black coffee, dark and bitter. She hates it, preferring sweetness over caffeination in her warm beverages but getting her own would require a trip to the cafeteria earlier than she’d like to be awake. A few seconds of grimacing over the taste is worth it for the extra half hour of sleep. Killian’s an early riser—of course, he is. It’s a wonder they’re compatible at all.

Killian initially tried to put up a fight over it, hold it out of her reach like kids on the playground or finish it off before Emma could even think of crawling out of her quarters, but she wore him down, little by little.

They’re working on Jolly with Will when she takes a sip, stealing the travel mug from his hand and already half wincing for the unsweetened assault. When surprisingly palatable coffee hits her tongue, she almost chokes. It’s not half bad; no acrid punch of burnt grounds, no grainy aftertaste. Instead, it’s sweet. Creamy. Not what she was expecting at all.

“What’s this?” She takes a sniff at the lid incredulously. Is that… syrup?

“According to Ms Lucas, this is what poses as a caramel latte these days. Filled to the brim with sugar, spice and all things nice, just how you like it.” Will hands him a tablet, outlining the Jaeger’s current specifications. Emma understands enough of it to get by—she’s more attuned to reading neural charts, not the gibberish the engineers put out—but Killian revels in the details. He doesn’t even look her way as he speaks, fully engrossed in the graphs, comparisons and visuals. It also means he doesn’t notice Emma eyeing up how good he looks with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a grease stain on his left cheek. Just the right amount of dishevelled. “Is there any way we can drop a few tonnes to help increase speed and manoeuvrability?”

Will peers at the tablet, overseeing the stats with a critical eye. “No, mate. Not without losing vital armouring.”

“What about swapping out the nuclear core?” Killian hums, swiping to the next screen.

“Don’t be daft, Killian. It’s brand new.”

“The arc-whip?”

“I’m gonna cut in and say no on that one.” Emma interjects, surprised that she even managed to drag her attention away from the warm, sweet beverage in her hands or the enigma of a man that let her take it. The arc-whip is her preferred weapon—combining both distance and close combat, great for the CAT 2’s and smaller CAT 3’s that like to stay just out of reach or dragging back the larger beasts from getting further inland. She’s the one that suggested it be added to Jolly’s arsenal in the first place.

“Come on, love.” Handing her the tablet and tapping a few menus, Killian points out Jolly’s stats without it. Their speed would be improved and their power longevity, but they’d be sacrificing their range completely. “Having an arc-whip and a plasma cannon is overkill.”

The mechanic chuckles, coming to her other side and throwing an arm around their shoulders. “Technically, the plasma cannon is overkill anyway. Massive power drain.”

“Don’t you start.” Killian bats his arm away and Will cocks an eyebrow in challenge.

“Just because I’m right.”

Before either of them can respond, the hangar shudders as alarms blare. The alarm they all dread.

The Breach.

The CAT 2—Axefury—with armour piercing spines and nasty blade-like mandibles, emerges just off the coast of Florida, stalking towards the shore.

Frozen Serenity is deployed, piloted by sisters Anna and Elsa.

The fight takes an hour.

Killian brings her another coffee as they watch the battle from the command centre. He doesn’t say a word, wrapping his arm around her shoulder as she tenses against the cold realisation.

It could’ve been them.

Next time, it will be.

When he knocks her on her ass, straddling her waist with his sparring staff pressed to her throat, Killian’s eyes are the bluest she’s ever seen, and it takes her a second to remember where they are. He smirks, allowing her space to breathe while keeping her thoroughly pinned down.

“Normally, I’d prefer to do other more enjoyable activities with a woman on her back.” With a voice like that, velvet and grit, Emma’s not sure if she wants to push him away or pull him closer. The watchful eye of Marshal Mills keeps her straight. The last thing anyone needs is a show. She struggles just enough to make him cocky before retaliating, using his own weight against him.

In a heartbeat, he’s the one on his back, head caught in a lock between Emma’s thighs. In the time it takes for him to realise what’s going on, eyes widening as he realises where he is, it’s too late. His weapon clatters to the edge of the crash mat, useless.

“For future reference,” She pants, squeezing her legs tighter until Killian taps out against the floor. “I prefer to be on top.”

He laughs and, despite the patrol alarm blaring down the hall and Regina’s eye roll, the world feels a little lighter.

When they drift in Jolly for the first time, the phantom woman from the pseudo-drift is nowhere to be seen. There’s a blip where Killian gets caught up in visions of destruction and earthquakes and rivers of blue eroding the streets of New York, but just as Emma feels the echoes of her memories in his mind, they’re gone. He’s in her head. An uncomfortable yet reassuring presence that she never thought she’d be able to endure again.

“Neural bridge initiated and holding strong. Well done, guys.” Robin chirps over the speakers, dragging them out of the initial drift space and back to their shared reality. She lifts her left arm as Killian lifts his right and they join the jaeger’s metallic palms in a salute that rumbles through the bowels of the hangar.

Cheers erupt from the comm lines as scientists and pilots and soldiers line the walkways and balconies to celebrate their achievement.

She can feel the haze of his irritation through the link.

“We’re another shot at hope for them.” Her uncalibrated right-hand takes his uncalibrated left wrist just above the brace of his prosthetic. He doesn’t flinch but his thoughts stutter, interlaced with images of her soft smile and memories of each time they’d sparred, each stolen hour on the rooftops, each close encounter, each moment that could’ve been an almost, or a maybe. Emma pauses just long enough to imagine What if?

She shakes them away. They owe each other that much.

“We’re a suicide mission.” He’s right and his voice buzzes in the back of her skull. If the comm deck picked up on his words, they don’t respond.

“Yeah,” she lets his arm fall back to his side, making sure her left side—the one that’s wired into the eight thousand tonne government-approved death machine—stays relatively still. “But it’s worth it.”

“Is it?”

She can’t tell the difference between his words and his thoughts right now.

Static crackles in the conn-pod before Robin’s voice calls out again. “Ready to take her for a spin?”

She kisses him, with trembling palms pressed to his chest. Because she wants to. Because she can. Because, more than anything else, she isn’t ready to die. Not now. He is slow to respond, one hand on her shoulder ready to put distance between them at a moment's notice, the other at her waist, pulling her closer. The corridor leading to their quarters is empty and, beneath the harsh light, he tastes like the coffee they’d shared for breakfast.

He doesn’t push her away. She’s grateful for that.

The absence of Killian in her head should be a relief but it isn’t. It feels… empty. The absence of a presence that had made itself at home. She’d worked with rangers for years, ever since the hangar took her in, learning the in’s and out’s of the neural bridge and working to better align pilots with an initial pseudo-drift before putting them through the real thing.

She’d never expected to like it.

It’s exhilarating.

The expiry date they have hanging over their heads is unavoidable now. They’re compatible, truly compatible, doubting that is no use to anyone and despite whatever lead them both to the corps, whatever it is she catches glimpses of when they drift, she trusts him.

Fingers still trembling and head thick with fog, Emma trusts him.

“That was—”

A mistake.

Long overdue.

A one-time thing.

Just the beginning.

“Worth it.”

“Emma—”

“Be quiet.”

She snakes a hand around his waist, using his surprise to yank him closer into the alcove, away from prying eyes. Their dark uniforms blend in the shadows. Chest to chest like this, Emma can barely catch her breath. The cold steel pipe against her back does nothing to dissuade the heat he’s putting out—seriously, how is he always warm? It’s impossible to avoid his gaze either, the intensity of it only magnified with their proximity.

There’s questions there—so many questions—but he doesn’t have to ask them. She knows.

Killian’s tongue darts out to wet his lips.

She knows.

David and Snow walk past none the wiser, caught up in a discussion about something or other. Emma can’t focus enough to listen in, too distracted by everything in her body that screams for her to pull Killian closer and slam their mouths together until they forget about the rest. She holds her breath until the other rangers round the corner at the end of the hall.

“Mills hasn’t cleared Humbert or Lucas for visitation. We’ll be turned away.” Killian whispers, mouth so close to her ear that she can feel his words better than hearing them. His cheek catches hers as he pulls back but he doesn’t get far, her hand still pressed to his side, holding him in place. His brows raise in surprise.

Her palm tingles against the empty air when she lets go.

“Let me do the talking.”

He nods, following as she exits into the corridor, only a half-step behind.

They don’t have clearance. The med bay doors beep dejectedly as Emma’s ID card fails to pass the security check. Will had promised it would work, he’d sworn. Either he lied, already ratted them out to the Marshal or—

Victor Whale.

“Mills already has her reports delivered to her directly every hour,” he sighs, tugging off his gloves, surgical mask and running a free hand through his hair. Emma can see the dark roots coming through. There’s no market for salon-quality peroxide at the end of the world, apparently. “With the intention of alleviating the need for rangers like yourselves to check in. Can’t you go be annoying somewhere else? I don’t have time to file insubordination paperwork, I’m already understaffed.”

Killian reaches out, pleading, his eyes wide and blue and honest. He grabs the doctor’s forearm with his mechanical hand.

“Please, mate. Just five minutes.”

Whale’s brow furrows focused on the prosthetic gripping his arm. The fear of disciplinary action outweighs a lot of things in the hangar.

She’s pale, too pale, and riddled with tubes and drips and monitors that beep along with the pace of her heart. The burns, blistered and seeping, are tinged blue with the toxic sludge that courses through Kaiju veins. Blue burns, as they’re colloquially referred, aren’t uncommon. There are ointments and salves to calm the low-level contact burns and sprays to neutralise the toxins in the acid. What’s left of the governments have put extensive measures in place to ensure that stuff like this doesn’t happen to the general public.

They don’t seem to care for rangers.

As Ruby’s skin sloughs from the slightest friction of the sterile sheets, Emma can feel the first clutches of fear curl around her throat.

Corpselike. That’s the only word that comes to mind. Ruby, once so full of life, has never looked so… not, and Emma can’t help but fall into step with the ventilator that’s currently breathing for her as if somehow it makes a difference. The steady whirr of the machine only working to wind up the anxieties simmering beneath the surface of her skin.

Next time, it’ll be them.

Next time, it’ll be her.

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.

“We’re having to keep her under.” Someone —Victor? — hums, ignoring them both to look over the digitised chart at the foot of her bed. “There’s a lot of irrevocable damage that we’re still looking into while repairing what we can externally.”

Inhale.

“What about Gra— Ranger Humbert?” Killian's hand hasn’t left hers since they entered and, for what it’s worth, she’s thankful for the anchor and the ever-present warmth he offers. His presence is grounding and his words reflect her thoughts when she can’t quite reach her own.

Exhale.

It’s too much.

Inhale.

“More of the same”

Exhale.

They never should’ve come

His lips taste of salt.

The inevitability of death.

It burns.

“I don’t want to lose this.” she pants, soft against Killian’s lips as he smiles and steals it away. Like the future they don’t have. That she so painfully wished they could have. “I—”

His kisses trail to her ear, each one as gentle as the last. Too soft, too delicate. It terrifies and excites her how something as small as a kiss can melt her resolve to nothing. Any shadow of doubt disappearing with each step they take closer to the inevitable. After everything that had happened, from sneaking into the med bay, drowning the images with the last of that damn bottle of bourbon that started all this and sparring until they were both bruised and beaten and breathless, sex had been the last thing on her mind. It had crept up on her, crept up on them both, and it was impossible to deny.

That first rooftop rendezvous, first spar, first kiss, all those weeks ago, had cemented this. She can see that now.

Closing what little distance there is left between them, Killian walks her backwards until her thighs bump against the solid table behind them. “You won’t, love. I’ve got you.”

Each touch, each glance, each gasp is another goodbye.

His prosthetic rests on her waist as his other makes light work of the fastenings of her uniform, and she urges him on with a moan. She’s thankful they made it back to his quarters. They won’t make it to the bed.

Emma searches for answers as he pulls off his shirt, praying something in his eyes will reassure her that this—whatever this is—is okay, that they’re not terrible people for finding something worth fighting for at the end of the earth, anything to provide even a modicum of hope that maybe, just maybe, they’ll survive just long enough to have a chance at finding out if it is. She clutches at his shoulders, with nails biting into his skin, and breathes.

She doesn’t find the answers. Instead, she finds herself.

Scared and afraid, clinging to the last comfort she has left.

Three words bloom, fade and crumble in her mind, as fragile as a leaf on the wind and, before she can even speak them, Killian nods.

“I know.”

Somewhere deep inside her chest, behind broken walls and the rubble of a past life, something long since broken, beats.

Emma wakes up to warmth. An all encompassing warmth surrounding her so completely, an aura of heat welding together the cracks that had once debilitated her heart. So familiar, and pure and yet so foreign at the same time.

Each beat of her heart echoed by a shadow.

Each exhale mirrored by that of another, a soft caress against her nape.

The solid and comforting press of a body—his body—against her back, bringing forth memories of the night previous so slowly, like a crack in a dam; first a drip and then a flood. The synchronicity. The passion. The mutual need to just Be.

The absence of all thought except one.

Life is just too fucking short.

As if summoned by her mental recollection, Killian’s arm wraps around her waist. His lips ghost against the skin of her shoulder blade and the kiss he presses to her neck brings a smile to her face.

“Good morning, Swan.” He purrs, voice gravelly and wrapped in sleep. Damn, if Emma had only known he sounded like that first thing sooner—

The thought catches her off guard.

It’s so… normal. Domestic.

She could get used to it. She wants to get used to it.

“Mor—”

The spell shatters. The facade peels away to reveal the truth and the bliss that had wrapped her up in its glow is gone. Reality hits.

The blood-curdling scream of the one alarm they pray will never ring.

The Breach.

Robin’s voice screeches out over the comms in a panicked shout, followed by the calm and commanding call of Marshal Mills. Her own name and rank is called, along with Killian’s. Emma’s blood runs cold when the realisation hits.

A CAT 5.

All units to report.

Approaching New York.

Killian doesn’t move for what seems like an eternity, lips still pressed to her skin in an everlasting kiss, as if time has somehow warped around this very moment, stretching seconds into minutes, hours. Allowing them a chance to come to terms with what must happen next.

Their fates were sealed the second they stepped foot in the hangar.

Emma wrapped in a hospital gown. Killian in a battered, blood-stained plug suit.

“It’s okay.” He whispers, already drowned out by the blaring siren that fills every corner of the room. Emma can’t tell if he’s saying it for her sake or his own.

When she turns to him, pulling herself upright in the process and letting the cold of his quarters seep into her bare chest, he’s smiling. It’s by no means her favourite smile—wide and full of laughter—but it’s something and, for some crazy reason, she believes in it.

She believes in them.

“Fortune favours the brave.”

////

tagging a few of y’all! @thisonesatellite @teamhook @kmomof4 @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @thisonesatellite @darkcolinodonorgasm @carpedzem @hollyethecurious

#cs fic #captain swan fic #ouat fic #ficminds #i'm sorry to anyone that likes once upon a time and pacific rim #this is a mess #but it's my mess

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jmeelee · 5 years

Text

The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Stiles and Derek’s Cat

Sterek Week 2019 • Mystery

Rating: T (for swearing and lite innuendo)

Word Count: 2.1 K

***********

Derek flips on his blinker, and the taxi driver riding his ass swerves around the Camaro, rolling down a window and shouting something indecipherable while Derek pulls into the fire lane in front of the airport. His sister walks through the automatic doors as he climbs out and pops the trunk, a parting blast of air conditioning blowing her dark shoulder-length hair around her head like a demonic halo. She’s dressed in an old band t-shirt with a black blazer layered over top, and ripped skinny jeans, one hand gripping the handle of her rolling luggage, the other pressing a ratty book to her chest.

“It seems stupid for a werewolf to be superstitious,” Cora greets, handing Derek the leather-bound album, “but I didn’t want to take the chance of it getting lost in the mail.”

He pulls her close in a one-armed hug; Cora was never the overly affectionate type, but distance and pseudo-death make the heart grow fonder. “I appreciate you lugging it all this way. Stiles has been asking me a lot of family questions since he started emissary training, and I wanted to put some faces to the names he’s been hearing.” Pictures that aren't attached to obituaries, he silently adds.

She tosses her suitcase into the trunk, dusty wheels leaving a streak of dirt across the upholstery, and slams it closed, climbing in through the passenger door Derek holds open. “Alpha Varela had a decent amount, and Alpha Ogden gave me a half-dozen,” she supplies as he slides behind the wheel and pulls out into traffic, “but they only fill up a quarter of the pages. It’s pretty pathetic.”

She reaches out a hand, lovingly runs fingers over the brown cover embossed with a triskelion.

“It is,” Derek concedes, “but it’s better than nothing.” His fingers itch to flip through the meager pages immediately, pour over the pictures like Cora’s been able to do, and bring his long-dead family back to life, but it will have to wait through rush hour traffic and a trip to the pet store. They’re out of cat food, and Agnes Nutter—the stray orange tabby Stiles fell in love with when he started spending so much time with Deaton at the vet clinic, and proceeded to drag home—has been known to take claws to the curtains, leather couches and freshly painted walls when dinner isn’t served on time.

“We’re back!” Derek calls through the front door an hour later, pulling his key out of the lock.

Cora drops two five-pound bags of dry food to the entry-way floor. “How much does this damn cat eat?” She laughs. Derek shrugs, wet food cans clanking in the bags hanging from his hands. The album is tucked securely under his armpit.

“I’m in the family room!” Comes Stiles’ disembodied voice. Derek detours to the kitchen to stock the cat food in the walk-in pantry and Cora heads to the back of the house to greet her brother-in-law. He’s only moments behind her, but when he finally rounds the corner into the family room, his little sister’s face is shifted, snarls twisting out of her throat through elongated teeth, and Stiles is sitting on the couch, eyes wide, laptop in one hand and the other raised, palm out, sparks sizzling along his fingertips. Acrid ozone spikes the air.

“What. The. Hell.”

“I don’t know, dude!” Stiles’ voice trills and Derek doesn’t have the time to admonish his husband for calling him dude. “She rolled in here and didn’t even say hello! Just went all grrrr-” his nose does the scrunchy little thing Derek secretly loves, top teeth bared like an adorably angry hamster- “and scared the shit out of me.”

“It’s that...thing,” Cora rasps, pointing a claw-tipped finger at Agnes Nutter, calmly lording over the room from Stiles’ blanketed lap, like a ginger queen on a throne.

Stiles drops his laptop to the couch cushion, wrapping his now free arm around Agnes, who’s yellow eyes squint in annoyance at the vigorous display of affectionate protection. “What’s your problem with my cat? Does the lupine-feline rivalry actually run that deep?”

“Really, Stiles? Dog jokes? Now?” Derek rubs at a tension headache brewing over his left eyebrow.

“Stiles,” Cora commands through sharp white teeth, “get away from it. It’s a demon.”

Agnes answers the accusation with a charming little “meow,” and rubs a paw over her docked left ear.

“Put your teeth away. She’s my pet!” Stiles shrieks.

“Derek. Get the photo album,” Cora orders.

Derek glances back toward the kitchen. He can see the book sitting on the granite countertop, but is loathe to leave the room. “Is this really the best time for a Hale family history lesson?”

“You bet your hairy ass it is. Go get those pictures. Now.”

Derek’s never been more grateful for supernatural speed. “Here.” He hands the album to his sister, who flips open to the second page, turns the book around and hands it back to him.

At first, Derek’s baffled. What do his unearthed family photos have to do with a c—

An orange and white striped cat that’s sitting on his grandmother’s lap, when she was roughly thirty years old. A cat that twists around his mother’s ankles as she stands on tip-toe to kiss his father on the cheek, while toddler Laura plays in the background. A cat that lingers behind his great-grandfather as he cuts the ribbon at the dedication ceremony for the Beacon Hills preserve. The last photo is in black and white, but this cat, like the others, has a docked left ear.

“Stiles…” Derek looks up at his husband. Agnes stares at him with slanted eyes. He does the math in his head. At least fifty years…

Stiles groans, head lolling on the back of the couch. “Don’t tell me she’s a Flerkin. I knew I should have named her Goose.”

“Not a Flerkin,” Cora says. “But definitely something.”

Agnes jumps off Stiles’ lap and calmly pads over to her empty food dish, flops down next to it, and lets out a loud, piercing howl.

“Get the cat carrier,” Derek says. “We’re going to Deaton’s.”

———-

“Why did you let me adopt a time-traveling cat?!”

Deaton, as usual, says nothing in face of Stiles’ hysterics. Agnes dangles from Stiles’ outstretched arms, held at a forty-five-degree angle like a domesticated lion king. She blinks, whiskers twitching. Derek feels her pain; the overlapping scents of animal, iodine and industrial-grade disinfectant makes him want to hurl.

“I was surprised you even got a cat,” Scott chimes in from the waiting room chair. Having a pet who turns out to be old enough to collect social security merits calling your alpha right away. “I didn’t think you liked them. Remember my old Maine Coon, Louis? You used to pelt him in the ass with spitballs.”

Everyone’s mouths drop collectively, and Stiles reels Agnes back to his chest, hiding part of his blushing cheek in her soft orange fur. “I was seven, Scott! And in my defense, Louis used to bite my toes through my sleeping bag.”

“Well, thank goodness it was in retaliation,” Derek deadpans. “I wouldn’t want to be married to an animal abuser.”

A war plays out on Stiles’ flushed face; narrowed eyes shooting daggers at Derek, while the corner of his generous mouth cocks up. “I didn’t hear any complaints from you the other night.”

“Gross,” Cora bemoans. “Get a room.”

“Already did.” Tucking Agnes under his arm like a football, Stiles holds up his free hand and wiggles his fingers, white-gold wedding band flashing under the fluorescent lights. “Made it legal and everything.”

“Did you bring the photos?” Deaton inquires, enigmatic face as placid as the surface of the little pond in the preserve. Cora hands them over, and everyone watches Deaton slowly flip through the pages, eyes skimming over each picture. “Hum,” he says, laying the album on top of the reception desk, open to the picture of Derek’s parents with Agnes at their feet.

“Hum? That’s all you have to say?” Stiles scoffs.

“I’m surprised at you, Stiles,” Deaton says softly, crossing arms over his lab coat. “I thought you knew what Agnes was when you took her home.”

“Obviously not,” Stiles grumbles. “I’m supposed to be learning from you, aren’t I? One would assume the teacher would tell the student if the class pet was an immortal demon waiting to eat their face off when they fell asleep.”

Derek feels a hysterical giggle crawl up his throat and clamps his lips closed.

Deaton spins the album around to face the waiting room, and Scott extricates his butt from the chair to creep closer. Deaton taps the top right corner of the Hale’s photograph. “I took this picture in nineteen-eighty-eight. Derek,” he says, glancing up into his face, “your parents had just gotten the news they were pregnant with you.”

The giggle threatens to turn into a sob.

“Talia and Sebation celebrated their good fortune with a pack dinner. As you well know-” Deaton turns toward Scott- “emissaries are invited to important pack events.” He turns back to the room at large. “I came that evening, and Agnes, as you are fond of calling her, came with me.” He flips to the picture of Derek’s great-grandfather. “Emissaries protect their alpha’s, so I assume the former Hale pack emissary was somewhere in the crowd during this ceremony.” Deaton blinks, letting the pregnant pause come to full gestation. “Familiars tend to follow witches wherever they go.”

“So…” Cora trails off, tilting her head to the side and pursing her lips while she studies Agnes. “She’s a familiar? Familiars are demons, right?”

“Fantastic,” Stiles sighs, shoulders slumping. “We all know my track record with demons.” His face is carefully blank, except for the bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“No concrete evidence exists to say familiars are demons,” Deaton lectures. “In fact, that tends to be an antiquated belief held over from the witch trials. Some believe they are fae, or goblins, sent to assist fledgling witches in the practice of magic. Others believe they’re guardian angels.”

“Ha!” Stiles crows, sticking his tongue out at Cora. “She’s not a demon after all. She’s an angel. Take that!”

“Hey!” Scott helpfully adds. “You could change her name to Aziraphale!” Stiles looks like he’s considering it.

“I’m not trying to rain on the parade,” Derek cuts in, ignoring Stiles’ mumbled Sourwolf, “but you’re saying Agnes is here to help Stiles? She mostly just eats, craps, coughs up hairballs in my shoes and knocks shit off the counters. Like that time she broke the vial of ground-up Mucuna pruriens, and we all broke out in that horrible rash.” Derek’s butt itches just thinking about it.

Scott snaps his fingers, goofy smile stretching across his face. “Yeah! And then Stiles used it to make those smoke bombs we attacked the hunter’s compound with the following month. It’s like she knew exactly what he needed to use.”

Everyone stares at Agnes, baffled and impressed.

“Legends say familiars most often take small animal forms,” Deaton continues, “but some are human-like, or can shape-shift. One was a horse.”

“No,” Derek says to both his husband and Agnes, on the off chance any ideas are forming in their heads. “No horses in the house. We don’t have the room.”

“So, you’ve told us what legends say, and what other people think about familiars.” Stiles bounces on his toes, jostling Agnes. She yowls, and he plops her onto the reception desk next to her portraits. “You’ve been an emissary for years. What do you believe?”

Deaton inhales deeply through his nose, exhales through his mouth. “I believe they’re an extension of our souls.”

Stiles smiles, scritching Agnes behind her mangled ear. “You’re the Pantalaimon to my Lyra. The Salem to my Sabrina. The—” Agnes hoists one leg straight into the air and starts licking her butt.

“Yup.” Cora smirks. “That makes total sense.”

“In conclusion, Stiles, your pet is not a demon who’s waiting to eat your face off. Now, can I please go home for the evening?”

It takes half a bag of treats to coax Agnes back into the cat carrier, and Deaton locks the doors to the clinic on their way out.

“I thought she was a stray,” Stiles says as they all head out into the moonlit night, voice a little wobbly. “I didn’t realize she was... Do you want her back?”

Deaton’s smile is as mystifying as ever. “She’s yours now, Stiles.”

Derek notes that, unsurprisingly, Deaton didn’t actually answer the question.

“One more thing,” Derek says, loading Agnes into the backseat of the Camaro. He’s strangely curious, even though he’s heard what curiosity did to the proverbial cat. “If she was yours for years, you must have given her a name. What was it?” Even arcane Dr. Deaton must be human enough to name his cat. Right?

“Some things,” Deaton answers before he slams his car door, “will have to remain a mystery.”

#sterekweek2019 #sterekmystery #eternalsterek #sterek #haleinski #my fic #sterek fic

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memories-are-mine · 5 years

Text

We Survived the Crisis, Babe

I was lazy about posting these on here so yall can have 2 (two) chapters today!

Comment to get on the taglist!

ao3

Chapter 7 - Ethan

Ethan woke up to the sound of laughter, of elated shouts and the name ‘Becky Barnes.’ He decided to wait to process that information until he sorted out whatever drug trip he was on.

He was feeling somehow better than he had before, despite dying, coming back to life, and proceeding to be drugged by his shop teacher and his nurse friend. His head felt clear despite the tranquilizer, and when he tried to move his bad arm, he found it didn’t hurt. He could still feel that the stab wound wasn’t there, but even that didn’t hurt so much anymore.

What was happening?

He opened his eyes and found Hannah’s face just above his, staring at him intently. He jumped a little bit.

“Jesus Christ, Banana Split,” he murmured. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” Hannah whispered, moving so she wasn’t directly above Ethan’s face. She was cradling Ethan’s head in her lap. “Was worried. But the hat worked. Just like Webby said.”

Ethan reached up a hand and found that he was wearing his hat, the hat he had given Hannah that morning outside Toy Zone. The hat he had told her was magic. Thinking about it, the fact that he’d had a magical hat in his possession wasn’t any weirder than anything else he’d experienced today.

“The hat?” He whispered, matching Hannah’s tone. “Is it magic?”

Hannah nodded, then looked around fearfully. “Lets Webby help. But they got us.”

“Wait,” Ethan said. “Who got us?”

Hannah gestured towards a large group of people clustered around the stairs to the second floor, who currently had their backs to them. “Bad guys. Lady in the black cape. They want Wiggly.”

Fortunately, whoever the bad people were seemed to be ignoring them for now.

With a grunt, Ethan sat up, and Hannah pressed herself against his side. He put an arm around her instinctively.

He was surprised he had the energy to do that, but he thought about what Hannah said. The hat he was wearing let Webby help. Maybe she was the one behind this, sustaining him.

You’re right, Webby said in his head. The hat enables me to lend you the strength to survive. But my power has limits. Especially here.

Ethan almost felt ecstatic. Webby was watching over him and Hannah. Whatever these assholes wanted, whatever they had in store for Ethan and Hannah, they had a spider from outer space watching over them. That made him feel a lot better.

“But where are we?” He wondered aloud.

One glance around both answered his question and made him want to throw up. He and Hannah were in Toy Zone, but it was a mess. The register had been thrown against the wall, and the giant spool of twine they used for gift-wrapping was thrown carelessly in the middle of the floor. Lex had always made fun of that twine.

Where are these kids gonna take ‘em? The fucking jungle? Why are we gift wrapping children’s toys with literal rope? She would always say.

That wasn’t the part that made Ethan want to throw up.

The rest of the place was practically destroyed, too, save for a shelf of plush unicorns and a bin of flowery aluminium child’s softball bats tucked away in the corner. Why the unicorns had been spared, Ethan really wasn’t sure he wanted to know. That wasn’t the throw up part either.

The throw up part was that ten feet away from where Ethan and Hannah lay, there was the dead body of Frank Pricely, Lex’s boss. He was lying in a pool of blood, flies already starting to gather around his body. Ethan had never liked the guy, but now he felt sorry for him.

There was no sign of Lex.

Ethan’s heart sank. What had these people done with her?

He almost wanted to call out to her, but also really did not want to attract the attention of the cluster around the stairs, who were now laughing raucously.

“And the only man that’s after her now is Jack Daniels!” Said a high-pitched, annoying woman’s voice that sounded familiar for some reason.

It brought the entire house down. All of the adults, and adults they all seemed to be, apparently collectively thought that this was the most hilarious thing that they’d ever heard.

“Whatever that joke was,” Ethan murmured. “It cannot have been that funny.”

“Shhhh!” Hannah whispered.

“Hey!” He heard. “The boy’s awake.”

He looked towards the stairs to find that the entire cult was now staring at them. Without a word, Ethan slipped the hat off his head and gave it to Hannah. She took it without protest.

“Yes, yes, excellent,” said the same woman’s voice. Where did Ethan know that voice from? “Bring the other heretics to me!”

Hair-a-ticks?

Ethan didn’t know what that word meant, but it didn’t sound good. Was it some type of insect? Why would this lady be calling them bugs?

“What’s a hair-a-tic?” He whispered to Hannah.

Before she had a chance to answer, the group surrounded them. They hauled Ethan up by the arms and ripped Hannah away from him, pulling her along by her hair.

“Hey!” he shouted indignantly. “Let her go!”

The adults completely ignored him. They shoved him and Hannah forward and they stumbled to the bottom of the stairs, then circled around them, boxing them in so that they couldn’t escape.

Ethan glanced around. His heart was racing. Becky Nursing Scrubs was here, too, but still very much unconscious and being held by two of the psychopaths who had brought them here. She would be of no help.

Heretic, Webby decided that now would be a great time to play dictionary in his mind, providing a helpful definition that just made things worse. It’s a religious word. It means betraying a certain religion.

A shiver went down Ethan’s spine. Whoever these people were, they were calling Ethan and Hannah traitors. If there was one thing that Ethan remembered from Ancient History class, it was that traitors were punished by death.

He had to get them out of this. He owed that to Lex. Also, he was not going to die in a fucking Toy Zone.

“Get Becky Barnes out of my sight!” The woman’s voice, coming from directly above them now, ordered.

Ethan looked up and gasped. He did know who this woman was, from the local cable channels that always interviewed her, and the way she had sneered at Ethan, talked down to him when he had been friends with Peter Monroe back in Elementary school.

The leader of this insane cult, the religion that was after God-knew-what, and who had captured Ethan and Hannah, was the President of the Hatchetfield Boating Society, Linda Monroe.

The two men holding Becky complied with Linda’s orders, dragging her through a door to the backroom, and out of sight.

“What should we do with him?” One of the men asked, indicating Ethan. Ethan recognized his voice as the one that had raised the alarm that Ethan was awake. He glanced over. The man who had raised the alarm wore a blue zip-up hoodie and a checkered baseball cap. He looked chillingly familiar. Not because Ethan knew him from the outside world, but because it was one of the men who had attacked him and Hannah outside the Cineplex. The one who’d run his knife through Ethan like it was nothing.

“What have you done with Lex?” Ethan demanded, looking wildly around him. Now that he had their attention, he might as well use it. “Tell me where she is!”

The man with the baseball cap stepped forward and Ethan met his eyes evenly. He could not show fear. Not now.

There was a brief staring contest between them, then, out of nowhere, the man who’d stabbed him swung out his hand and struck Ethan across the face. He stumbled backward, more out of surprise than pain, though the man could hit, Ethan would give him that.

“Leave him alone!” Hannah screamed.

“You’ll speak when you’re spoken to!” Baseball Cap bellowed at Ethan.

Above them, Linda waved her hand impatiently.

“Enough, enough. Leave him here,” she said, looking between Hannah, who had run to Ethan’s side when he had been hit, and Ethan, who, despite the circumstances, had to fight the urge to laugh. She looked kind of ridiculous, standing on the steps of a rundown Toy Store like it was the fucking Oscars or something. But there wasn’t anything funny about the hunger in her eyes. “He could be useful.”

Reluctantly, Baseball Hat backed off.

“Now,” Linda gave him one of those half-grimace smile things that rich people gave when they had to be polite to people they didn’t like. “As for where your little trailer-trash whore is, I’ll let you wonder about that. And what I might do to you and the little brat here if you don’t behave.”

“Now, as for you, you little shit.” Linda Monroe wheeled on Hannah, who shrank back. “You’ve kept the shepherd from his flock for too long.”

Ethan moved protectively in front of Hannah. He silently thanked Webby for giving him the strength to stand.

At a wave of Linda’s hand, two of the cultists marched forward and grabbed Ethan by the arms, pulling him roughly to the edge of the circle as he struggled, but healing though he may have been, Ethan wasn’t at full strength yet.

“Quit it,” one of the men holding him said, jerking his arm roughly. A flair of pain went through it. That shouldn’t have hurt.

Webby was losing energy. Ethan could feel it. So he stopped fighting, bided his time. If he was going to make some spectacular move to incapacitate Linda and get them out of this, the timing had to be perfect.

Hannah started crying, and it made Ethan’s attention snap right back to her.

“Nuh-uh,” Hannah sobbed, as Linda loomed over her. “Magic hat, nothing can hurt me.”

Linda scoffed and ripped the hat off of her head. “Magic hat,” she muttered with a laugh, handing it to one of her cronies, a woman with a long skirt and a sweater with a picture of a cat emblazoned on it.

That was his hat. They couldn’t do that. They also were not allowed to touch Hannah.

“You little fool,” Linda taunted. “You think a magic hat is going to protect you?” She walked behind Hannah. “That’s ridiculous, only dolls are magic.”

Ethan wanted to shout that magic dolls made about as much sense as magic hats, but Webby reminded him of his goal. He had to wait. Not draw attention to himself. For both his own sake, and Hannah’s.

Linda Monroe ripped the backpack off of Hannah’s shoulders. She didn’t protest.

“I’ll be taking mine, thank you very much,” Linda said gleefully as she ripped open the backpack, triumphantly pulling out… nothing. She gasped in total outrage, her face contorting into something like pain.

Ethan quietly snickered. She was so outraged over a doll it was almost hilarious.

He stopped laughing when Linda pulled a switchblade out of her expensive-looking purse.

“Is this some kind of a joke?” Linda Monroe wheeled on Hannah, who stared back defiantly. “Tell me where he is, or I will open your mouth with my fucking kni-AAAGGGH.”

That last part was courtesy of Ethan’s fist connecting with her nose. He knew it was dumb, a terrible decision, probably the worst decision he’d ever made, and that was saying a lot. But when Linda had pulled the knife on Hannah, he’d snapped. Webby was lending him this strength to protect Hannah, and so protect Hannah he would. No matter what. No one threatened his little sister like that. Ever.

His body thought for him. He surged forward and grabbed Hannah’s hand, pulling her to her feet and began to make a break for it. The cult was so surprised at his recklessness that they didn’t react at first. Out of the corner of his eye, Ethan saw the crazy cat lady holding the baseball cap. He ripped it out of her hands as they passed, her barely resisting.

Ethan felt ecstatic, he felt unstoppable. It was the best he’d felt all day. All fucking week. He and Hannah were going to make it out of here. Linda wouldn’t get her doll and she’d cry about it into her expensive champagne glass. They’d be on the road to California right after Ethan and Hannah found Lex, who was alive, thank you very much. He almost wanted to laugh as they ran for the exit.

They didn’t make it.

Taglist: @hurricanehellion, @asshole-gay-797, @ethngreen, @just-a-side-kick, @theirishhufflepuff, @somegeekychic, @curse-brekker, @unusual-ly, @softotacoo, @believeinasmilinggodtoday, @scorpiotrash468

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irenedonnee · 5 years

Text

At Last 6. Home Again

A/N: I’m sorry it took so long before posting this chapter! Thank you @cozyweatherlover and @stessrene on twitter for the beta!

Claire thought a lot about where she was going to bring Jamie for their wee trip in the Highlands. She didn’t want it to be too romantic -- after all they had never talked about their first kiss again -- and she didn’t want it to be impersonal. She determined where she would bring him while reading the papers a few days before they left.

She called to make sure there would be a vacancy for them. Fortunately, someone had cancelled and there was a free room with a king sized bed and bay windows on the Bens. She was sure Jamie was going to be happy about it until she put her suitcase in the back of the car. She started to worry he might not want to go there and would think it was bold of her to rent this room without asking him first. It was too late to go back now. Glenna was waiting in the car.

“You’re ready?” Jamie asked, coming out of the store with a small suitcase.

“Yes,” she forced a smile and put all worries behind her. “Are you bringing your typewriter?”

He shook his head and she went to help him carry the suitcase to her car. “Thank you and no, I’ll leave the typewriter here. Just a wee notebook and a pen should be enough.”

Once they were ready to leave, Claire sat behind the wheel of the blue car and started the engine. Jamie sat next to her and looked at her with a big smile. “It’s very nice of you… To bring me wi’ ye on a wee trip.”

She smiled back at him. “Of course. It’ll be so much more fun with you. And you know the place, don’t you?”

“I havena lived in the Highlands in a verra long time. Besides, I dinna remember enough to tell you about places. Maybe a few stories and legends, but nothing more.”

“Well, that’s a beginning,” she smiled and started driving towards the road.

The place Claire had rented wasn’t far from Inverness, but she took the longest road. She was in no hurry to get there.

Jamie could feel she was tense, but he thought maybe driving made her nervous or perhaps nauseous. His mother always felt sick in cars. He wanted to ask if she’d rather be sitting on the passenger seat, but he knew fine well it was impossible. Not with his damaged leg. Once more, he cursed in his head, tired of the trouble brought by this injury. He really hoped time would make it better, but he wasn’t expecting it to heal at all.

“Are you okay?” Jamie asked, looking at her, worried.

“Yeah,” she smiled, pretending everything was fine. “The landscape is so pretty!”

“Yes,” he agreed, not convinced by her answer. He was starting to know her quite well and if there was one thing he first noticed about her -- something that often amused him -- was her glass face. “Do you want to stop by the road and eat something?”

“I’m not quite hungry, but if you are-” she reached with her free hand for the bag containing food from Mrs Graham, but he stopped her.

“No need, I’m fine,” he assured her. “Just thought maybe you were.”

“No, I’m fine,” she answered and an awkward silence fell between the two of them.

It wasn’t until Jamie saw the place that he understood what was going on. He froze and didn’t say a word, only stared in front of him as she entered the parking lot.

When she saw his reaction, Claire regretted making the decision to rent a room there. She felt stupid for assuming he would ever want to go back to Lallybroch after all those years.

“Is this… the place we’ll be staying for the night?” Jamie asked, his voice hoarse.

“Yes,” she mumbled. She tried to hide her crimson red cheeks by looking straight in front of her, hoping he wouldn’t notice her embarrassment. She parked the car and Jamie got out, leaving the passenger door opened.

She watched him walk to the building, looking around, an unreadable expression on his face. She finally decided to get out of the car and join him. He didn’t hear her come to stand behind him. Finally, a middle aged woman walked out of the main door. “Ye must be Claire Beauchamp!”

She cleared her throat before answering. “Yes, that’s me,” she said in a low voice.

“Welcome to Lallybroch! I am Mrs Fitz, the one ye spoke to on the phone,” the woman smiled at her warmly and invited them in. Jamie followed, not paying attention to what the owner said. “Right at the end of this hallway, there is the kitchen and the dining room where ye can come enjoy your meals. They will be ready by eight in the morning. Now, follow me upstairs, I’ll show ye to yer room.”

Claire looked over her shoulder at Jamie as he looked around, his jaw clenched. Feeling her eyes well up with tears of disappointment, Claire tried to pay attention to what Mrs Fitz was saying to stop thinking about Jamie for a moment.

“The painting on the walls were made by the first Lady who ever lived in Lallybroch, when the castle was established in 1702.”

Claire looked over them absentmindedly. It seemed like the way to their room was unending. “There!” Mrs Fitz finally said, stopping in front of the door. “Ye’re room 1753. Every room number is after a special event that happened to the inhabitants of the castle and the surrounding lands. 1753 is the year when the Dun Bonnet -- an outlaw, and the son of one of the Laird’s-- was captured by the English soldiers and sent to prison for participating in the Jacobite rebellions. The legend says he spent six years living in a cave nearby. He was alone except for maybe once or twice a month, when he came to bring food he hunted for his family.” Mrs Fitz smiled at them.

As much as Claire usually enjoyed history and learning about the legends in Scotland, now was not the right time. The owner didn’t seem to notice their disposition.

She opened the door and Claire stepped into the room. The walls were covered with blue flowered tapestries, frames, and paintings with vases and two brown leather couches by the fireplace. Claire had to admit the view was breathtaking. “I’ll send my grandson to bring ye yer luggage,” she smiled and closed the door behind her.

A heavy silence fell in the room and Claire immediately regretted Mrs Fitz’s departure.

She was standing in the middle of the room with her arms crossed on her chest and didn’t dare look at Jamie although she could feel his eyes on her.

“You bloody well say something,” she finally said.

It took a few seconds before he did say something. “Ye kent we were coming here? Ye spoke to the owner?”

“Yes… I saw an ad in the newspaper and I thought… Well we were planning on traveling in the Highlands so I thought-” she hadn’t heard him walk to her and was surprised by his lips on hers.

When they pulled away, she finally looked up at him to see his eyes filled with love and tenderness.

“You’re not mad?” she asked in a shaky voice.

“Mad? No, Claire, I’m… I’m speechless, aye. Because nobody’s ever done anything like that for me before,” he smiled.

“I thought maybe you’d be happy to visit your ancestral home.”

“And ye were right. I am beyond happy.” He held her gaze and bent down to kiss her again. This time, she kissed him back, throwing her arms around his neck and pushing her body against his.

“Your luggage, Mrs Beauchamp,” a young teenage boy with blond hair entered the room with their two bags. “Oh,” he said, when he saw the couple kissing.

Surprised, Claire pulled back from Jamie, putting her finger on her mouth, still feeling the warmth of his lips on hers.

“Ian, laddie!” they heard Mrs Fitz scream from down the stairs, “how many times have I told ye not to go into our guest’s room wi’out knocking first!”

His cheeks turned crimson red as he looked up at them. “Sorry,” he whispered, leaving the luggage by the door before storming out of the room. When the door was closed, Jamie and Claire looked up at each other and burst out laughing.

“Weel…” Jamie chuckled silently.

“Do you want to visit the house?” She asked him.

“Aye.”

Claire had never heard Jamie talk so much since she first met him. While they walked around the house, he showed her places he remembered, despite being very young when they left Lallybroch. She was surprised by all the things, all the little details, he could remember.

Her hand in his, he walked her around, showing her the little places he liked to hide as he played and he told her how he liked to dress up as a knight to fight to protect the castle.

“I can see where your imagination comes from,” Claire smiled as they stepped out of the house.

“Aye,” he grinned, looking around the lands surrounding Lallybroch. “And my mother had a verra big library wi’ all kinds of books from everywhere around the world. You saw it. Most of her books are still there, she didna bring them all the way to America,” he smiled.

They walked around and he brought her to a little cemetery behind the house. “My father is buried here. Alongside my brother.”

Claire saw his name written on the grave.

William Simon Murtagh MacKenzie Fraser

1909-1914

“I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“He died before I was born. I always… I always wish I had the chance to know him.”

Claire put a free hand on his arm and laid her head on his shoulder. “I know,” she whispered.

He put his hand on hers and sighed. He knew she understood, she had lost her parents when she was very young. She knew what it was like to wonder how different life would have been if his father and brother had not died.

“It’s getting dark outside and I think it will rain soon. We should go back inside.”

Mrs Fitz was waiting for them in the kitchen with a hot supper. They sat at a small table and she put a plate of haggis in front of them. Jamie smiled at her and thanked her. When she left for the kitchen, he saw Claire looking at the meat in her plate.

“Haggis,” he smiled.

“Oh,” she forced a smile.

“You never had haggis? In all the time you’ve been in Scotland?”

Her cheeks turned pink and he had to keep a straight face. She was adorable.

“Well, no… I never thought it looked quite… uh… tasty,” she whispered.

He chuckled. “It’s quite good, once you accept what it is.”

“What is it?” she frowned and he realized he had said too much.

“Oh, well… Just meat. Eat now,” he smiled and took a bit. It was delicious, the first time he ate haggis in a very long time. When he lived in New York, his mother would cook Scottish food from time to time, but it never tasted like this. “Mmm,” he said, “that’s good.”

Claire didn’t look very convinced, but she took a very little bite. He watched as her face went from disgusted to a surprised appreciation. “It’s not bad,” she said and took another, bigger bite.

“See, yer a real Scot,” he tried to wink at her, making her smile.

Mrs Fitz came back with dessert and sat with them while Jamie told her he used to live here with his mother. She was surprised to hear his story and listened as he talked about the years before she moved in. She explained how she had come to buy the castle and he listened carefully.

“I’m glad that Lallybroch fell in the hands of someone like ye,” he smiled. “This house… It’s been in my family for generations. Since it was built. But I see you have respect for the past and the history of the house.”

“Aye,” Mrs Fitz said, pleased to hear it. “And yer welcome to come anytime ye want! I think we can manage a deal for the rent of the room.” Her cheeks were pink and her eyes shining. She was an adorable woman and both Jamie and Claire felt welcome to come back.

After a long talk with the new owner, Claire and Jamie went back to their room. “I think I’ll go wash,” she said and went into the bathroom.

Jamie changed into his pajamas and lied down on the bed in the dark. He remembered the last time he’d been in this room. He was four years old and just had a nightmare. He remembered running from his room to his mother’s and climbing in her bed. He had been scared to death, but after she realized it was her little boy, she had let him sleep in her very big bed with her.

He was so happy to be back. For so many years, during the war, when he was freezing to death in trenches or foxholes, he had longed for home. When he thought about home, he never thought about the apartment he shared with his mom and Jenny, but the old castle in the scottish Highlands. He knew he would never go back and his heart would break all over again.

Jamie always felt this house was the only memory he had of his father. Brian Fraser was born here and lived all his life here. Jamie would imagine him reading by the fire or working in the field. He would imagine him sitting with them during supper. He always wanted to come back and now he understood why.

Jamie listened to the water running in the bathroom and tried not to imagine Claire in the bath. He couldn’t believe she had done this for him. He knew there was a chance that maybe he didn’t want to see this house again, but she had called Mrs Fitz, taking the chance. He smiled to himself and all doubts that Claire didn’t love him were gone.

Because of her, he had made peace with his past. He had let go of his demons and had turned to see the new day ahead of him. She had given him a reason to live - more than just inspiration for his novels. And now, she had given him the chance to make peace with his father’s death, with a childhood he had always craved after it had been stolen from him. The last thing he needed to deal with in order to heal.

He heard the door open and his blood froze in his veins. It was dark in the room, he could only see the shadow of her in her dressing gown walking to the bed. She sat next to him, looking deep into his eyes. She smiled, putting a hand on his cheek.

“Claire…” he whispered. His voice was hoarse.

“Yes?”

“I’m in love with you.”

Her eyes softened and she smiled, bending her head to kiss him. “I love you,” she whispered against his lips and deepened the kiss. She pushed him on his back and straddled him.

“Claire,” he whispered, gently pushing her away.

“What?” she asked. He looked into her eyes and saw they were filled with tenderness, the moonlight reflecting on her white velvet skin.

“I’ve never… uh…”

“You’re a virgin?”

He blushed and nodded. “And I dinna ken with my leg how I can-”

She interrupted him with a deep, noisy kiss on his mouth. He moaned lightly as she bit his lower lip. Her hands reached to his shirt and she lifted it over his head, before letting her hands travel down on his chest, goosebumps rising on his skin. She helped him take off his pants and looked at him, biting her lower lip. He blushed, not used to have a woman look at him this way.

“Well,” he said, breathless.

She looked up at him and smiled. She opened the belt of her gown and slowly let it fall off her shoulders.

“Christ,” Jamie said looking at her, his blue eyes turned black. “Claire, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

It was her turn to blush. She bent her head to kiss him again. He kissed her back, his hands caressing from her back to her breasts and her bare bottom.

Jamie moaned when she took hold of his throbbing cock and guided him to her. She sat down on him looking at his face as she did so. He closed his eyes and opened them when she started to ride him slowly.

Her hands were in his hair and his arms were around her, bringing her closer to him. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, groaning and biting her skin as she moved faster.

He didn’t last very long with all the wee noises she was making and cried out her name. They stayed in each other’s arms for a moment until she rolled on her side, looking at him a big smile on her face. “Was it like you thought it would be?” she asked sheepishly.

He smiled, looking up at her with pink cheeks. “Better,” he said, putting an untamed curl behind her ear. She kissed him and fell asleep in his arms.

Jamie woke her up some time later and they made love again, always looking in the other’s eyes. It was the most romantic and erotic moment of their lives and they both wished this perfect night would never end. Even if they knew it was just the start of something beautiful.

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