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cyberwulf · 2 years

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A Frosty Reception!

For @sugar-stories

Inspired by their work-in-progress, Here Comes the Bribe (which you should all read here ).

Summary: After the events of Here Comes the Bribe, Giovanni wants a word with our TRio and their continued wasting of company money.

Jessie glowered at the expensive carpet beneath her knees. Whenever she thought things couldn’t get any worse, they somehow did.They’d just been getting back to normal after their disastrous wedding trap and James’ subsequent abduction by that – that creature, and then a Delibird had shown up. The credit card statement in its wretched beak was the same one Giovanni was now reading aloud dispassionately while the three of them grovelled in front of his preposterously huge desk.

James’ audible whimpering only served to fuel Jessie’s fury. It wasn’t bad enough that everything had gone utterly sideways as usual, or that the only wedding she was ever likely to have had been completely ruined. Now the Boss and the Accounts Department would know what an absolute loser she was for concocting such a pathetic scheme, which meant that pretty soon everyone would know. Especially that Human Resources cow, Wendy, who’d smirked at them as they trudged reluctantly into the Boss’s office.

“Meowth, what were you thinking, charging everything to the company credit card?!” she hissed.

“You got any idea what a phony wedding costs?” Meowth hissed back. “It was supposed to be a big score!”

“…and this is my favourite part,” Giovanni finished with a mirthless chuckle. “All of this,” he tossed the statement on his desk, “resulted in zero Pokémon captured.”

“But Boss, it wasn’t our fault,” Meowth protested. “You see there were these pirates, and James’s crazy ex-fiancée –”

“Shut. Up.” Meowth wilted under Giovanni’s glower. “I know six Pokémon scientists who would pay top dollar to study a talking Meowth.”

Meowth pressed the tips of his paws together. “…Are they nice scientists?” he asked hopefully.

Giovanni’s mouth briefly twitched upwards into a cruel smirk. “No.”

Meowth cringed.

“Your incompetence has cost this company thousands with nothing to show for it,” their boss growled. He rose and the trio cowered, trying to make themselves as small as possible. “If you two idiots had actually gotten married, at least we’d pay less taxes.”

His words took all three of them by surprise.

“He… he ain’t sayin…?” Meowth murmured.

As neither of her teammates were about to speak up, and feeling a sudden, intense desire for clarity, Jessie asked, “What do you mean, sir?”

Giovanni turned to gaze out his office window (which conveniently overlooked a yard where several lithe muscular Grunts were exercising in very tight clothes). His Persian murred and rubbed its head against his leg.

“Merely observing,” he remarked, “that if you two financial black holes did want to enter a binding legal contract which would reduce the company’s overall tax burden… I’m the Viridian City gym leader. I could facilitate such an arrangement right now.”

He didn’t turn around. Giving us time to talk it over, Jessie realised distantly. The Boss couldn’t be serious. Did gym leaders even have that power? Did taxes even work that way? Not to mention –

“Ya know, James, if you was married to someone else then that crazy clam could never marry you,” Meowth declared.

That had never occurred to her, Jessie realised. She gazed vacantly at the desk in front of her. When she’d been tracking down that whip-wielding witch and those presumptuous pirates she’d felt something terrible, something almost masked by her fury but not quite, that sent icicles through her stomach and threatened to choke her. If they were married, nobody could ever lay claim to him again. Nobody could ever drag him away in the arrogant belief that he was their plaything to mould and abuse.

“…whaddya mean, you don’t know?! The Boss is giving us a way outta trouble! All you gotta do is sign a marriage licence! You get to be free from your crazy ex and I don’t get sold to not-nice scientists to pay off our debts!”

Meowth’s desperate shout-whispering snapped Jessie’s attention back to her two team-mates. The Scratch-Cat had fisted his paws in James’s shirt, anger and panic warring on his face. And James…

James looked green.

“Stop it, Meowth!” Jessie snarled, threatening the Pokemon with a backhand. Meowth released his hold on James and retreated away from her. Jessie lowered her hand and looked away, trying to ignore the sudden pang in her heart as she muttered, “James doesn’t want to get married.”

“And Jessie doesn’t want this either,” James whispered sharply.

“Don’t tell me what I don’t want!”

It came out louder than she meant it to. In fact, she hadn’t meant for it to come out at all. Jessie looked away quickly, folding her arms as her face burned.

“…Jessie?”

She heard James shuffling closer, felt him rest a hand on her shoulder.

“You don’t… you don’t really want to marry me… do you?”

Jessie looked at him then, at his worried frown and his big, stupid, beautiful green eyes. He was on his knees. He’d… he’d asked her.

“…I’ll sign a marriage licence to keep you out of that harpy’s claws,” she answered softly. She felt herself blush again, for an entirely different reason this time, and glanced away self-consciously. “It’s just a piece of paper.”

“Oh, Jessie.”

She found herself enveloped in a warm hug, and instinctively curled her arms around James’ back. So it wasn’t the proposal she’d always dreamed of. So it wasn’t the wedding she’d always envisioned. But she’d never been more certain that she was making the right decision.

All too soon, James pulled away, scooting forward slightly.

“Sir? We don’t want to get married.”

Jessie was almost sure she heard the sound of glass breaking.

Giovanni shrugged in response. “Merely a suggestion.” He turned from the window and sat back in his chair. “Wendy has details of your new assignment… along with the terms of your continued employment here.” He waved them off dismissively. “Get out.”

Jessie stood up slowly, her legs protesting after kneeling for so long. She felt as though she was at the bottom of a very deep well.

“You ain’t selling me then, Boss? …You’re too kind! You’re a gentleman, you know that? Is there anything I can get you or do for you-”

She barely heard Persian’s growl or Meowth’s scream as he charged past her like his tail was on fire. Everything else was fading out except the thump of her heartbeat and an overwhelming feeling of humiliation.

***

Perched on the top bunk of their new quarters, Jessie dragged a brush through her still-damp hair and decided it would have to do. This rotten day had had one silver lining, at least. Though that HR wench Wendy had smirked gleefully as she explained they’d be working twelve-hour shifts as janitors for room and board only until the Boss decided otherwise, she had no idea that their “punishment” was nowhere near as severe as she thought. Three meals a day, a bed to sleep in and (cold) running water was luxury compared to the months of rough living they’d endured in Johto and Hoenn.

She did her best to get comfortable on the narrow top bunk, just about wide enough for one person. The bottom bunk was bigger, able to (uncomfortably) sleep two, and if she was feeling more like herself she might have made a fuss about claiming it, but the truth was she didn’t feel like speaking to either of her team-mates right now. Meowth was the architect of all this, and as for James – making her think – and then pulling the rug out from under her – ooh, she could kill him for making a fool of her like that, in front of Meowth and the Boss –

“Jessie?”

And there he was, hovering next to her bunk in his shirt and boxers, with a fleck of toothpaste still on the corner of his mouth. She should slap him in the face right now. Except…

“Is something wrong?”

Great, he wanted to talk about it. Jessie sat up and pulled the thin blanket around herself. “Nothing’s wrong.”

James put a hand on his hip and lifted an eyebrow. “Jessie, I may not know much about women, but I know when a woman says that nothing’s wrong, it means there’s something wrong.”

Jessie growled in annoyance and lay down, turning to face the wall. “I’m just tired.”

“That’s what a man says when something’s wrong.”

“Forget it, Jimmy, she’s been mad all day,” Meowth’s voice drifted up from below. “I notice nobody’s asking how I’m doing. You know, the guy who almost got mauled this afternoon? At least I didn’t get sold, no thanks to you two!”

With an acceptable target for her wrath, Jessie whirled around and leaned out of the bunk to yell. “Well if it wasn’t for you we wouldn’t be in this mess, now would we?!”

“Me?!” Meowth unsheathed his claws, prepared for trouble. “The whole wedding stunt was your stinking idea! What was going through your so-called mind, huh?”

“Enough!” James yelled, startling both of them. “Meowth, wait for me in bed.”

“…Fine,” Meowth spat after a moment, putting his claws away. “I’m rubbing my butt all over your pillow. Enjoy.”

He clambered into the bottom bunk and disappeared from Jessie’s view, muttering about “two nutjobs” and “worst friends ever”. That left James still gazing at her with a question on his face. Jessie turned away from him quickly, huddling under her blanket. She closed her eyes, hoping he’d get the hint.

After what seemed like an eternity, she heard him sigh.

“Goodnight, Jessie,” he murmured.

“I wouldn’t have made you do anything,” she blurted out, because maybe that was why, and she couldn’t stand the idea that he thought being married to her would be worse than being married to her. “It’s just a piece of paper.”

“But Jessie, that’s why I couldn’t do it.”

At that, she rolled over to face him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean the big wedding,” James explained in a hushed voice, mindful that furry ears were listening. “The beautiful white dress. Happy ever after.” He took her hand. “I wouldn’t be a very good friend if I let you give up your dreams for me.”

Jessie felt tears pricking at the corner of her eyes and she blinked them away, pulling her fingers out of James’s grasp.

“It’s a stupid dream for little girls,” she answered roughly. “Besides, those fake wedding vows you wrote are the nicest thing anybody will ever say to or about me.”

“Don’t say that, Jess,” James pleaded. He took both her hands this time, pulling her closer. “One day you’re going to meet an absolute hunk who’s in awe of your terrifying glory and who worships you like a goddess, and when you do you’ll be so glad you didn’t marry me in the Boss’s office, because you’ll be able to marry him! And you’ll have your dream wedding and I’ll do your hair and wear the ugliest bridesmaid’s dress anyone’s ever seen so you’ll look even more stunning by comparison!”

Oh. For a moment Jessie thought she really would cry. She gazed at him, blinking rapidly. He wasn’t just telling her what she wanted to hear – he really believed in her silly, wishful fantasy. She swallowed hard.

“…Do you promise to wear an ugly bridesmaid’s dress?” she murmured.

James nodded. “It’ll be hideous.”

That drew a chuckle from her, in spite of everything. Jessie gazed down at their hands, idly stroking her thumb against James’ finger. She’d been honest with him before, despite her natural instincts. Maybe she could risk being partly honest again.

“Meowth was right, you know,” she remarked quietly. James looked at her quizzically and she explained. “The wedding was my idea. You ended up in her clutches because of me. And… I felt bad. I… wanted to keep that from ever happening again.”

“If it does, I’ll get away from her again,” James assured her. He smiled. “As long as you’re there to rescue me.”

Jessie gazed at him, opening her mouth to tell him that of course she’d be there, now and always, when abruptly the light snapped off, plunging the room into darkness. Jessie huffed in exasperation – another little clause in their new contracts stipulated that they only got so many units of electricity per day.

“Bedtime,” James sighed. He let go of Jessie’s hands. “Goodnight, Jessie.”

“Goodnight, James,” she murmured in return.

She huddled under her too-thin blanket, unable to stop a smile. So they were on the outs with the Boss, forced to do menial tasks, and earning no money for the foreseeable future – what else was new? Nothing had changed – at least, nothing between them. That meant there was time, time to pin down how she felt and decide what she wanted to do with those feelings.

And now that the air was clear between her and James, there was just one other person she had to talk to. Wrapping her blanket around herself, Jessie slid out of her bunk.

“Meowth?”

“…Yeah, what?” he hissed from the far side of the mattress.

“You know we’d never let the Boss sell you,” Jessie declared. “Especially to not-nice scientists.”

“That’s right!” James joined in. “We’d snatch you and go on the run! To the ends of the earth if we had to!”

“…You mean it?” Meowth replied, still unsure.

“Of course!” Jessie assured him, straining to see him in the dark. “We’d be lost without the brains of our outfit.”

“And our furry hot water bottle,” James added.

“And I know you only spent all that money to make the wedding look as convincing as possible,” Jessie continued. She paused for a moment, letting herself actually think about the first half of the ceremony for the first time in days. “…It really was a beautiful wedding.”

“Did you see the tall twerp crying?” James giggled. “He was totally fooled!”

“That’s all down to you, Meowth,” Jessie finished softly.

There was a sniffle from the darkness.

“…Move over, Jimmy.” Meowth leaped over James as the latter scooted towards the wall, and came into the sliver of moonlight illuminating the room. Tears shone in his eyes. “Get in here, Jess!”

With a smile, Jessie grabbed her pillow from her bunk and squeezed in next to James, Meowth settling in between them. Two blankets and their combined body heat made it warm enough to actually get some sleep. Not to mention that it was just nice to share a bed with both her boys. Jessie sighed and closed her eyes.

Tomorrow was a new day.

#my fanfic #pokemon #team rocket #a frosty reception

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thefanbasewhore · 3 years

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In Big Trouble.

Summary: Bucky never texts back until he has a reason to 👀

Warning/content: (18+) no real smut but it's little steamy

Paring: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Master list || Bucky Barnes tag list.

Is everything okay?

Anxious eyes read over the words over and over again, hoping this will be the time Bucky Barnes will finally learn how to use a damn phone. He's been gone for over a week, you try not to call or worry too much but it's not like he makes it easy.

It's been five days since you last heard from him, called from Sam's phone claiming he'll never be able to use his own. Of course, he grew up in a era where cell phones weren't a think but you mostly think it's because he's stubborn, refusing to use any kind of technology because he's an old man at heart.

Feet nervously shuffling on the floor under your desk, chewing on the fat of your lip nervously. It's hard to sit back and act like it's okay not to hear from him, like he's not the only thing running through your mind 24/7 because he is. It's a learning curve really, not a single person in the world has ever prepared you for having a super solider boyfriend and the endless worrying that comes along with it.

Sighing loudly you throw the phone back into the drawer of the desk before getting back to work. He'll be fine. He always is.

***

It's hours later and once again you're staring at the stupid screen but now in the confines of your own home, on your own time but it doesn't shake the worry, it's worse.

Buck are you there? Answer me back old man.

Five days is a long time.. what if he's hurt or something went wrong and he's trapped knees deep in snow in Antarctica or some kind of freak accident happened that Bucky and Sam are trapped on a deserted island?

But then again, how would he be able to text you? No, No, everything is fine, Bucky is fine just technologically challenged. Waiting a few more minutes before throwing the phone onto the the coffee table with a loud grunt.

***

Now it's been eight whole days, still not a single word from Bucky or Sam. Not even a little thumbs up emoji and quite honestly it's worrying.

Bucky on the other hand is well aware of all the messages, reads every single one but scowls trying to press the small letters to form something even close to English but ends up getting aggravated and gives up.

Everything is fine, except for every waking minute he's either on a stake out which means he can't even take ten minutes to call you or out of reach from any kind of service. It's his last day here, the mission is finally over but the debriefings will hold him for just a few more hours.

He looks around the room of people, all politely listening to Sam as he clears up the mission, any loose ends sealed tight but Bucky can't care enough to pay attention. Except this time the phone chimes in the side pocket of his tac pants and it's not like he's doing anything anyways, why not peak?

He looks up, just to make sure no one is looking before angling it towards his face, but just enough it's hidden under the table and presses the notification, it's surrounded by hearts and 'my doll' is in big letters.

He starts to get annoyed, nimble fingers hovering over the screen as it freezes momentarily but the words aren't hard to miss on the screen.

'Miss you, big guy 💘'

It's sweet, the small pink heart after it fills a warmth over his cheeks, flushes his nose just enough that if any one cared to look over they would totally catch the Winter Soldier pinched pink. It makes him smile, a feeling all so new to the solider, never in his life having someone waiting for him, worrying and missing him.

But what happens next causes him to audibly choke, spit caught in the back of his throat as a deep, red flush claims his face which only makes it worse as he looks up to notice everyone is staring at him.

There you are, in front of the floor mirror. It's a simple pose, sitting on your legs, arm over your head while your hand ruffles your hair, back arched so high he can almost feel the similarly of it on his hands, fingers twitching to feel it again.

He notes the way your bottom lip is pulled between teeth, red and puffy, begging for his own. Eyes roam over the long muscles of your neck, small brusies from his departure still stain the skin purple, they trail down your collar bones and stop right between the valley of your breast.

His mouth waters to taste the salty tang of your skin again, bare breast high in the air, pedals pink and puffy, knowing for a fact they have been played with moments before. He can't look away, just follows the path set out from your torso to the skin of your thighs that are strategically placed to hide where you want him most.

He's so, so hot, the temperature of the room at least increased by 20 degrees in the last minute as he awkwardly coughs. "Sorry, Just need so water."

He takes a fake sip, making sure all eyes are somewhere else before looking back down pulling his collar away from his neck. Desire fills his chest and pumps throughout his whole body with a dull ache in his lower abdomen.

Fingers press more harshly then they should, he's so close, has the whole sentence typed out. 'Someone's being a bad girl' before he hovers over the send button but it's too late, there's already another picture.

This time you're laying down, phone raised in the air, thighs spread revealing everything to him. A hand rest dangerously low below your stomach and he stands so quickly the stupid chair spins behind him, he's already almost out the door before a word could be said.

It's not even ten seconds later when the contact picture pops up, letting it ring a few times and answering it with a knowing smirk. "Hi baby."

"Don't hi baby me, what was that?"

Bitting your lip with a smirk and looking around the room innocently despite a soul not being around. "What was what?"

"The pictures, you know exactly what I'm talking about doll." He sounds angry but you know him far too well to know exactly what he's feeling. Voice grovels just enough to being back the memory of the soft words that would be mumbled into your skin as he takes you and it's heaven to your ears.

"Oh those? Just missed you big guy."

It's funny how two basic words have him weak in the knees, desire burning in the pit of his stomach as you continue. "Just trying to get your attention."

"Is that what this is sweetheart? Are you feeling a lonely?" It's pure sugary, velvety smooth how he patronizes you but you want more. The desire to have him buried between your legs is too strong to fight even if you tried.

"Yes, feeling a little neglected here, Buck.." Sultry smooth, each word makes him want to palm his aching hard on as he struts down the stairs, midful of every turn and staircase he takes to avoid any awkward altercations.

"I'm sorry baby, I'll be home three hours tops. Give you all you need. Be a good girl and wait for me." It's easier said then done, a small groan is music to his ears.

"I mean it, wait for me. Don't be a brat." Taking his warning rather low as he hears shuffling on the other side of the line.

"Want another picture, to hold you over?"

His mouth snaps open, but he can't seem to get the words out. It's hard rejecting such an offer, jaw clenching in annoyance, not directed towards you but the aching, heavy feeling between his thighs. "No."

"Are you sure?"

"Don't you dar-." Before the words could even leave his mouth the phone chimed against his ear, brows narrowing in frustration. "You're in so much trouble."

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky fluff #bucky x reader #sebastian stan #james bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes

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safetycar-restart · 2 years

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hiiiiiii, just discovered your blog and I am in love *__* ive been looking for f1 dom content forever. Just thinking about little lando and how hes perfect to be a little sub. I have this fantasy where hes my overworked PA and he's hopelessly in love with me, and hes just so desperate to please. He would look so good on his knees, begging for forgiveness after screwing something up. Getting all flustered and horny seeing you in high heels, wanting to grovel and kiss them. 100% mommy kink too.

Oh my god this concept is EVERYTHING. We can (and should) talk about drivers in all sorts of AUs like this. I am so willing to do that oh my god.

But yes okay let's do this. I'll tag this ask and any future ones about this concept as "PA!lando" and if you have other concepts like this.... share. Please.

You've never had a PA that takes their job so seriously before, or one that does things so quickly. Like, if you ask Lando to arrange something for you, it WILL be done by the end of the day no matter what because he will never ever disappoint you.

And he's SO protective of his role and of your office. No one can come in without asking him first, and he will stand in their way if they insist on meeting you without prior warning. Which looks utterly ridiculous because he's so small, but he refuses to let them in without a fight because organising your schedule is his job and if someone interrupts your day, then it's his fault.

Lando tripping over his feet every time he walks into your office because you just look so good. And he runs so fast if you ever offer to eat lunch with him in the office.

Lando wanting nothing more than to be able to spend his breaks kneeling at your feet, with you petting his hair every now and then as you work.

And yeah, he'd hate messing up so bad. Begging for forgiveness even when the mistake really doesn't matter. He can accidentally get your coffee order wrong and he'll be feeling bad about it for hours afterwards cause getting you coffee every day is one of his favourite things to do.

It's all so much better when you get together though, because then you can direct him and keep him from getting too upset about mistakes.

And finally.... lando kneeling under your desk and eating you out while you answer some important emails.

#I am in love with this #PA!lando #sub!lando #nsfw.#ln

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luxekook · 3 years

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when fire meets frost | kth

as part of the christmas with bangtan: secret santa collab

❅ pairing: kim taehyung x reader

❅ genre: second chance romance, exes to lovers, angst, smut, fluff

❅ summary: just like a bad holiday song, you gave taehyung your heart last christmas. only in this scenario, he broke it eight months later. now you’re both back at that same damn holiday party where you first met one year ago and you’re just praying for you and your heart to leave in one piece.

❅ word count: 5.8k

❅ warnings: 18+, cursing, suggestive comments, drinking, DIY mistletoe, light violence, random ‘A Streetcar Named Desire’ references, drunk tae (TM), break-up flashbacks, weird humor, hella tension, hella groveling, making out, smut [oral (m to f)], the fluffiest of fluff (borderline cheese...actually...full-on cheese)

❅ banner by: the almighty and powerful maggie @kimtaehyunq - who also is the collab host!

Present Day: The Christmas Party, 8:00PM

Taehyung is staring at you. Again. Though you're facing slightly away from him, you know that if you give even the slightest glance over, your suspicions will all but be confirmed. The heated gaze you feel skimming over your body continues as you take a much needed sip of your mulled wine and pray that you get out of his line of vision soon with your dignity still intact.

Seokjin, your best friend and current partner in conversation, notices your predicament and scoffs, “You really should just put that boy out of his misery, (y/n). Scrooge himself would be down to have a foursome with the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future if he was around all this pent-up sexual tension.”

Your red-painted lips curl in a surely unattractive manner that resembles something between a grimace and a grin. You’ve heard variations of this argument about a dozen times from just as many sources, but Seokjin’s might just be the most absurd.

“I don’t know how or why your brain went right to a ghost-fucking analogy, but I’ve long since given up trying to understand your thought processes.”

Seokjin’s chest puffs up at your words like they incite something he should feel proud of. You sigh and shake your head at him, feeling a mix of exasperation and endearment - a constant haze of comfort you feel around your best friend.

“I’m just saying,” Seokjin continues, completely undeterred by your attempts to divert the conversation onto him, “He’s hot. You’re hot. He’s still into you. You’re still into him. I don’t see the problem.”

“I never said–!” You cut yourself off. He’s baiting you. “You son of a nutcracker. You know full well what the problem is. I’ve told you more times than Yoongi has yelled at someone for getting too close to his precious sound system.

At your words, you both look over to your left where Yoongi is currently chewing out a sheepish Namjoon with a death-grip on his expensive ass speakers.

“And I’ve told you that your reasons are shaky at best, (y/n),” Seokjin sighs, placing his chin in his palm and leaning over to you. He continues with a conspiring whisper, “Just because you’re scared you’ll get hurt again doesn’t mean you should never put yourself back out there.”

“Oh yeah,” You scowl, “That’s easy for you to say. You’ve never been dumped by the boy you love because he ‘wants to explore other options’. And then have to keep being around said-boy because you’re in the same friend group. And then fast forward a few months to when that same boy shows up drunk at your doorstep asking for you to take him back because you’re ‘the only one for him’. Spoiler alert: that’s fucking bullshit. And then–”

Seokjin slaps a palm over your mouth, effectively cutting you off mid-rant. “Babe, you have to stop rehashing this. Taehyung clearly is still in love with you. He looks at you like he wants to fucking eat you for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Besides, Tae hasn’t even hooked up with anyone since he asked for another chance.”

“That we know of,” You mumble darkly behind Seokjin’s palm - your words only a barely audible jumble of syllables.

“Are you accosting my date, Jin?” The voice of your co-worker and close friend Felix meets your ears as you shove Seokjin’s hand off of you. When you invited Felix to come to Jimin’s annual holiday party, you briefed him on the situation - like any good friend would. You needed him there as an extra buffer. While you love Seokjin, he definitely can get swept up into petty drama - namely baseless arguments with Jungkook.

As your closest work friend, Felix knows all about you and Taehyung, and therefore he agreed to be your “date” in exchange for your help in getting him a date with Alicia, the new accountant in your office. You’ve spent countless hours sitting next to each other as desk neighbors and coworkers. Felix is quiet, cute and respectful - not to mention his voice is to die for.

Felix’s hand settles on the middle of your back in completely friendly territory, but you can’t help but feel the eyes on you have ramped up in intensity. You wonder if Felix can feel his hand burning from the heat and almost think he does when Felix drops his hand a second later.

It’s one thing to make you uncomfortable. You’ve learned to stomach that. But it’s another thing to make your friends uncomfortable. And for that you turn and level a glare at that beautiful asshole, sitting at a nearby table with Jimin and still looking at you with those goddamn eyes.

Taehyung shamelessly stares back at you as Jimin prattles on about something in his ear before noticing Tae’s mind is elsewhere. Following his gaze to you, Jimin groans and shoves Taehyung’s shoulder before strutting away towards the kitchen. You watch as Jimin saunters by and roll your eyes when he winks at you when your eyes meet. That one has always been trouble.

When you turn back around, Taehyung is still staring at you. No, this time he’s staring at your body - namely, your ass. You ignore the burst of heat that runs through you and make a face somewhere between a scowl and a glare. He looks up at you without the least bit of remorse.

Your eyes narrow. Your ass isn’t even out! Your green ugly Christmas sweater adorned with real ornaments basically falls to your knees. But then again, Taehyung has always had a vivid imagination - and an even better memory. His mind is like a goddamn vault.

You tug your attention away from your ex and back to the current conversation. But your thoughts wander. You still feel that pull towards Taehyung - that same damn pull that’s been there since you first met him. And that scares the shit out of you.

Flashback: The First Meeting, Last Christmas

You’re perched on the arm of Namjoon’s black pleather sofa (“It doesn’t stain! Can you believe that?” “Namjoon, it’s ripped in seven places.”). Surveying the flurry of friends scattered throughout the cozy apartment, you only see a few people that you don’t know. But something feels different tonight, and you just can’t figure out why.

Did Namjoon rearrange his plants? Did Jimin part his hair differently? Did Hoseok change his outfit - again?

“A-yo, (y/n)!” Seokjin yells over to you from clear across the room. You’re always baffled at how clueless that boy is to social cues. “Come meet Taehyung!” Your friend continues to yell, practically pinwheeling his arms to beckon you over to his side of the room. You can vaguely make out an unknown figure standing with their back to you, facing Seokjin in conversation.

You sigh. Might as well get this over with before Seokjin decides to start pretending to lasso you over to his side of the room. Or worse - get his actual lasso that he has for some unknown reason. A natural performer that boy is. Getting to your feet, you cross the room. Your heartbeat thuds in your chest and you rub a hand over your heart absentmindedly.

What is wrong with you? Meeting new people always brings nerves, but you never usually feel this out of sorts. You step into Seokjin’s outstretched arm and into the embrace of your best friend. And then you look up at the newcomer.

Hooded dark eyes. Curly black hair. Perfect pink lips. Jawline chiseled by the gods.

Your breath catches in your throat. Words buzz in the air around you but you can't distinguish one from the next. You’re pretty sure Seokjin is making some sort of joke because his sides start to shake and the beautiful stranger looks exasperatedly amused. Yet, his eyes never stray from yours.

His lips part like his breath is caught in his throat.

“Taehyung-ie, don’t be rude! Say hi!” Seokjin shoves Taehyung, jolting you both out of your little staring contest.

“Hi,” Taehyung repeats. Your stomach flips at the depth of his voice. “I’m Taehyung. Kim Taehyung. You can call me Tae. Or V. Or just Taehyung.”

Your smile widens at his ramblings and the rising color of his cheeks. “Hi, Tae,” You can't help but grin up at the adorable, beautiful boy. He really looks angelic under the kitchen lights. His halo of curls frames his face in such a way that makes you want to curl your finger around one and tug.

Vaguely, you can tell that Seokjin is shooting rapid looks between you and Taehyung, looking like some sort of bobblehead in 100mph winds. Suddenly, a Grinch-like grin takes over his face. “Why don’t you crazy kids get some more wine? I need to talk to Yoongi...” Seokjin slips away.

In hindsight, you should have immediately been tipped off that Seokjin was up to no good. Seokjin seeking out Yoongi? Nothing good ever comes from that.

And you were right. Not twenty minutes later, you and Taehyung are both stuttering messes underneath a hastily tapped up branch of mistletoe - at least that’s what Seokjin’s calling it. You think it looks like a clump of grass with a grape thrown in there.

Just as you start to tell Taehyung that he doesn’t have to feel pressured by your lame friends, he cups your face in his hands and lowers his lips to yours.

Fucking magic.

There aren’t fireworks or sparks. There’s a whole blazing inferno between the two of you.

Your hands slide up his back, tangling in the curls at the nape of his neck. Taehyung lets out a small gasp as your fingers tug on his locks, and you slowly slide your tongue across his lower lip.

“Uh, okay… Hello? Hey, guys!”

Finally, Yoongi slams together two pans from the kitchen, jolting you both away from each other in fright.

“Break that shit up,” Yoongi shoots a glare at a grinning Seokjin. “I did not sign up for that level of PDA, Jin.”

“I can’t predict love, Yoongi-ah. I can only bring lovers together,” Jin sighs, clasping his hands over his heart dramatically. Yoongi pinches Seokjin in the side, immediately instigating a fight.

Taehyung reclaims your attention, shyly intertwining his pinky with yours. In the midst of all the chaos around you, he just looks at you like you are the only thing that matters.

Present Day: The Christmas Party, 9:02PM

“I don’t know how you survive when he looks at you like that. I’m practically melting just being in proximity of the two of you.”

Your friend Ciana’s comment pulls your attention away from your demon of an ex as he strides by, leveling you with a calculated smolder.

It’s a look that says he’s going to fuck you up in the best way - the way that used to leave you weak in the knees and covered in hickies. Taehyung’s fuck me eyes are your kryptonite. He knows it. You know it. The whole party knows it. Hence, it makes sense how he’s shamelessly using them any fucking chance he can just to mess with you.

It’s practically a fulltime job pretending it doesn't affect you. And it's a job you are failing at miserably.

You sigh and take a big sip of your drink. “Oh, I'm not surviving,” You confess, “This is just a hologram image of me. I’m practically clear across the country by now.”

Ciana laughs, “Girl, I don't blame you, but I have to say… He looks like he would follow you anywhere.”

You scoff. There was a time where you would wholeheartedly agree. Since your first meeting, Tae made you feel like you were the center of his universe.

After talking all night at Seokjin’s party, you exchanged numbers and within a few days Tae asked you out.

Your first date was to an art gallery. The two of you spent hours there, studying art and exchanging soft murmured interpretations. You would often catch Taehyung staring at you instead of at the paintings decorating the walls, and it made you feel all warm and fuzzy.

The dates continued until Taehyung managed to gather up the courage to ask you to be exclusive - his words, not yours. You hadn’t believed that he could ever have doubted your answer. But in hindsight, you probably should have doubted him.

Things were great for a while. No - they were better than great. They were the best eight months of your fucking life. Until they weren’t.

“Why did y’all break up again?” Ciana asks, pulling your attention to her once more.

You let a bitter laugh escape. “You’ll have to ask him that.”

Flashback: The Break-Up, August

“I want to see other people.”

The words strike you like a serrated blade. The plate you’re washing falls into the sink with a clatter. Your heart stills in your chest.

“What?” For a second you believe that you must have misheard him. Only he crushes that hope into dust within seconds.

“I said I want to see other people.” Taehyung repeats, a bit louder.

“You mean like taking a break?” You refuse to turn around and face him. You refuse to believe that your relationship is crumbling down. Your mind tries to grasp at straws. “Or trying ethical non-monogamy?”

“No, (y/n),” Taehyung sighs, “I mean that I want to break up.”

“But why? I don’t understand.” The tears begin to sting your eyes as you blink rapidly, trying to make sense of the blindside that Taehyung just threw at you. “What did I do? How can I fix this?”

“You can’t, okay?” The exasperation in his voice is palpable. “I’m bored here. I feel tied down. We’re both so young... How can we know we’re right for each other when there’s so many other people out there?”

“Where the hell is this coming from?” You seethe, finally whirling to face him. Taehyung flinches when he sees your tearstained face but you persevere and continue, “I bore you? That’s sure not what it seemed like two days ago when you were fucking me against the wall of that club bathroom.”

“Things change,” Taehyung scowls, “I need to explore other options, (y/n), and I think you should, too.”

Your heart is breaking, a fissure splitting it right down the middle. “You want to explore other options,” You repeat, in a deadpan voice. “Do you already have someone in mind?”

The split second pause Taehyung takes is all you need to know the answer to that.

“Get out.”

“(Y/n), it wasn’t the only reason!” Taehyung scrambles to explain. “We haven’t even done anything yet!”

“Oh, you’re a ‘we’ already? Fuck you, Kim Taehyung.”

“No! That’s not what I meant!”

“Well, I hope you’re happy with them. I hope they don’t bore you or tie you down. I hope you’re right for each other. I hope youre fucking happy with yourself and your decision.”

“Can’t we still be friends?”

You don’t deem that question worthy enough of an answer and slam your front door in the face of the person who ten minutes ago had been the love of your life.

Present Day: The Christmas Party, 10:21PM

The amount of love in the room is making your stomach turn. You watch as your coupled up friends exchange presents and kisses. You’re so happy for each and every one of them, don’t get you wrong. You just can’t help but feel increasingly alone with each passing minute.

Felix notices the dip in your mood and nudges you, “Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah,” You snuggle deeper into his side. Thank god for Felix. “Thanks for coming with me to this shindig. It would have been hard to be alone this year.”

“No worries, babe. Besides, how else am I gonna get Alicia to go out with me?”

You laugh at Felix’s words. The boy was oblivious to the fact that Alicia had already approached you to ask if he was single. Sometimes you enjoy your diabolical mind. “Oh, she’ll definitely go out with you,” You reply, pinching his cheek, “Who could resist this face?”

“You did. Three years ago,” Felix whines, shoving your hand away from him playfully.

“Sadly you’re not my type, pretty boy,” You sigh. It truly was sad. Felix is the nicest human you know - besides Seokjin. The fact that you're not interested just reinforces the idea that you have terrible taste in men.

“You’re thinking about him again, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know who you could possibly be referring to,” You sniff, turning away.

“Oh, I don’t know… Maybe the guy that hasn’t stopped circling you like a fucking shark in water since we got here?”

“He has not,” You retort, rolling your eyes.

“A-ha! So you do know exactly who I’m referring to, you little liar!”

“Goddamnit,” You laugh. “I need another drink to put up with you. You want a refill?” You gesture towards his cup.

“Nah, I’m good,” Felix shakes his head. You nod and head over to the kitchen, thankfully seeing no sign of ‘Shark Boy’.

But you spoke too soon, because just as you’re reaching up for a new mug you feel him.

“Is that little boy out there your boyfriend? I didn’t think you were dating anyone,” A rough voice growls from entirely too close to your ear.

You turn your head and shoot your best side-eye at the asshole who’s heated stare is aimed straight down at you. You internally curse at the unfortunate fact that Kim Taehyung somehow still can manage to look gorgeous in a bright red sweater with a whole-ass Santa beard stitched to its collar. You have never hated him more given that you look like a hot mess of a Christmas tree that no one wants to climb.

“I don’t see how that is any of your business, Kim,” You retort, turning around again and grabbing a glass from the cabinet. You can feel his warmth surrounding you as he grabs the mug for you instead, his body pushed up against yours.

“Move,” You order, your voice shaking slightly. But instead of listening, Tae grabs your hips and turns you around, caging you in between his arms.

“See, you’re wrong, (y/n),” His eyes dart from your own to your lips, “Everything that concerns you is my business. It has since the moment I met you, and it hasn’t stopped since.”

The incredulous snort escapes you before you can attempt to rein it in, “Taehyung, you broke up with me! I’m pretty sure that means you consider me old news and - above all - none of your fucking business.”

“And I told you I made a mistake!” Taehyung leans closer, his jaw ticking.

“You were drunk!” You stab a finger into his admittedly toned chest that you can feel even through that abominable Santa beard, “And it took you two fucking months to say that, only to never bring it up again. So excuse me if I find your argument lacking.”

“Fuck,” Taehyung curses softly, running a hand through his mess of curls, “I miss that smart mouth.”

“Yeah?” Your response flies out too fast for your brain to check your words, “Well I miss being enough for you.”

Taehyung looks stricken. “Baby…” He reaches for you but you duck past him and beeline straight for Jimin’s bathroom. Locking yourself inside, you slide to the floor and contemplate your chances of sneaking out the tiny bathroom window just like you did that night some months ago.

Flashback: A Streetcar Named WTF, October

A harsh banging sound jolts you awake. “What the fuck,” You mumble, fumbling around blindly trying to find your phone amidst the blankets and pillows surrounding you.

Finally, your hand locates the small metal device and you switch your screen on. Your eyes immediately shut at the brightness and you muster up the will to peek at the time.

3:12AM.

Who the hell dares to pound on your door at this hour? What is this - A Streetcar Named Desire? Well, slap your ass and call you Blanche because this asshole is about to feel your wrath.

Stomping over to your door, you swing it open and say, “There’s no Stella here, Stanley. Fuck off.”

While you don’t find a drunk Marlon Brando on your doorstep, you do find a drunk Taehyung.

“Who the fuck’s Stanley?” Tae glares, trying to cross his arms but failing somehow.

“Good lord, Taehyung,” You groan, grabbing his arm and dragging him inside your apartment, “You smell like a whole goddamn brewery. How did you even end up here?”

“Walked,” He says proudly while smiling down at your hand on his arm like an idiot. “Who’s Stamplee? I mean, Stangfree.”

You pinch your nose with your free hand. This boy… Ignoring his idiocy completely, you question, “You walked?” You push him down onto your couch and head into your kitchen to grab him some water.

“Yup! All by myself! Are you proud of me? Sandflea could never!”

You jump. Somehow Tae still managed to sneak up behind you while drunk out of his mind.

“Kim Taehyung, sit your drunk ass down.” You jab a finger in the direction of the couch he just vacated.

“But you’re so far away when I sit all the way over there, baby,” He pouts, giving you puppy dog eyes. “And I’m not drunk!”

You don’t dignify his words with a response. Handing the glass of water to the problem currently sprawled out on your couch, you sigh. What are you going to do with him? He can’t stay here… But he’s in no shape to walk back to wherever the fuck he came from.

“Tell me, Kim, why did you think that walking to my apartment of all places was a good idea? I could have moved!” Disdain drips from every syllable, “Is anything going on in that brain of yours? If so, it’s clearly not making any sense.”

“I beg to differ,” Taehyung has the audacity to grin up at you as he continues, “My brain makes perfect sense, baby. You plus me equals three.” His eyebrows wiggle up and down as he swings his hands out, showering you with the glass of water you just handed him.

“Maybe I’ll call you a math tutor along with your Uber,” You mumble as you fight the urge to laugh at the mess of a boy staring up at you from your couch. Grabbing a kitchen towel, you dab the water off of you as best you can. Glancing back down at Tae, you notice his attention has fallen to your chest, where the water he practically threw at you has plastered your tanktop to your skin.

“Hey, eyes up here,” You slap his arm with the damp towel, but he doesn’t even flinch.

“One more minute,” He says, absentmindedly rubbing his arm.

His attention gives you butterflies for a split second before you lock that shit down. You aren’t a fool; you’re fully aware that Taehyung’s the farthest thing from available, but he’s still hot as hell with his muscular stature, his wicked brown eyes, and his full pink lips. And that deep voice… it has shamefully been the fuel of your fantasies for the past few weeks. But that is neither here nor there.

So while his undivided attention always did make you feel fucking incredible, now he’s just a drunk boy who’s acting like he’s never seen nipples before.

“I’m calling you an Uber, okay?” You finally say, grabbing your phone and pulling up the app.

“Can’t I stay here?” Taehyung pouts, “Or will Surley get mad?”

“His name is Stanley,” You automatically reply and then curse as Taehyung lurches to his feet.

“I knew it! Where is he? Where is my replacement? I challenge him to a duel!”

“A duel?” You can’t help but laugh, “On what grounds?”

“For your hand, of course!” Taehyung rapidly glances around your apartment before his eyes land on the broom tucked in the corner of your kitchen. “There’s my sword!”

Before he can take a step towards his ‘sword’, you grab his arm and push him back down onto your couch.

“Wow, you’re strong!” Tae stares up at you adoringly, “And so-o cute. Wanna date?”

“You’re drunk, Tae. Don’t say things like that.” God, he’s going to give you a complex. You had just started getting over him and now he does this? Why is life deadset on fucking you over?

“But I do wanna date you!” Taehyung insists, “Don’t you miss me? Miss us? I still love you. I never stopped.”

“Tae, please stop.”

“I made a mistake, baby, and I wanna fix it. Can you give me a chance? Please?” His brown eyes blink up at you slowly. His lids practically fight to stay open as his words slur together.

The boy is falling asleep. Sighing, you close the Uber app. Looks like you’re housing your ex for the evening.

“I wanna marry you,” He mumbles, “Bought the ring last week. If you can just love me again I’ll be the luckiest…” His words get more and more inaudible. Mumbles about Stanley and revenge and kisses and altars filter through as you place a blanket over his form.

“Goodnight, Tae.” You can’t resist brushing your fingers through his hair. Your heart stutters as he practically leans into your touch like a cat, smiling contentedly.

“We’ll see if you remember this in the morning,” You mutter, setting another glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen on the coffee table for him when he wakes up.

After making sure Taehyung’s on his side with a bucket for potential incidents, you head back to bed.

When you wake up, he’s nowhere to be found.

Present Day: The Christmas Party, 10:23PM

“(y/n)... baby, please let me in.”

The underlying meaning of those six words is not lost on you. Could you let him in again? Taehyung once held your heart and then he basically smashed it on concrete and backed over it with his car - twice.

“Go away.” Your words sound weak even to your own ears.

“No, I need to talk to you… Please.” His voice breaks on the last word and you cave. Standing you unlock the door and back up. You could have a logical and reasonable discussion with Tae and get some closure, leaving all feelings out of it. Maybe...

“Two minutes,” You declare, “Nothing more.”

“But–”

You cut him off, “1:55…” You tap your foot and smile as Taehyung shoots you a look.

“Fine,” He rubs the back of his neck, peeking up at you under his lashes. “I got scared, okay?”

Your disbelief must show all over your face because he continues.

“Yeah, I was scared - fucking terrified of how much I feel for you. How in love with you I am. How can it be that easy to find your soulmate? It didn’t make any sense to me. And then Pia began to show an interest in me and I convinced myself it was a good idea to distance myself from you. To see other people. To try to make sense of my feelings.”

You hold up a hand. “So, you’re saying that you broke up with me because you were ‘too in love with me?’ What the fuck kind of selfish bullshit is that, Taehyung? You broke my fucking heart for someone you didn’t even like because you were scared I was your soulmate? Don’t you see how that just makes me feel like shit?”

Taehyung sinks to his knees. “(Y/n), baby, please. I am so sorry. I fucked up in the worst, most selfish way possible. It kills me that I broke your heart.”

“Ugh, get up, you drama king.” You pull him to his feet, continuing, “Why did you leave after that night? You said all those things when you were drunk and then just left.”

“Yeah, I kind of don’t remember what I said or how I even ended up at your place.” A blush takes over his face, “It’s so embarrassing you had to see me like that and I kind of just wanted to forget it happened. And I really hoped that you forgot it did, too. I didn’t expect you to just keep acting like you forgot my existence altogether.”

“What does that mean? I see you all the time, Tae! We’re in the same friend group for god’s sakes. We’re around each other all the time… Maybe even too much.” You mumble the last few words, but he catches them.

“Too much? You avoid me at all costs! You don’t smile at me anymore. You don’t even look at me most times! It kills me that all I get from you now is ice, when I know you have so much fire.”

His words confuse you. So he does want you back? Your friends weren’t exaggerating? A small burst of hope swells inside you, but the memory of the break-up outweighs it. “You don’t even know me though, Taehyung. Not anymore.”

“No. You’re wrong,” Taehyung leans closer to you, and you take a step back. Your back bumps up against the sink, your plastic ornaments adorning your sweater clinking awkwardly.

Tae brushes a stray hair behind your ear, his eyes begging you to listen, “I do know you. I know that you still take your coffee black with caramel. I know that you started doing yoga but are too proud to admit you hate it. I know that you came to my art show last month but left before I could talk to you alone. I know that you–”

“Stop,” Your voice trembles, “Please, I can’t. Taehyung, you hurt me so fucking much. Don’t you get that? I just started feeling whole again. So if I let you back in and you hurt me, I might shatter completely.”

His hands cup your face gently, wiping away a tear you hadn’t even realized had fallen. “I won’t ever hurt you again, baby. Please give me one more chance. That’s all I need. I want to keep you forever, (y/n)... I bought you a ring, did I tell you that when I was drunk? I think I did. I still have it. It’s yours - just like my heart.”

“God, you’re still so fucking cheesy,” You can’t hold back your smile even though more tears are falling down your cheeks.

And then his lips are on yours.

Taehyung kisses you like you're the most precious thing in the universe. Like you might break in the palm of his hand if he’s not careful enough. And maybe you will. But for right now, you melt into him.

He tastes like home.

Taehyung’s touch is tentative at first. His hands slide into your hair, tugging you even closer. You feel like you might burst, feeling so many emotions. Love. Fear. Confusion. Hope. You hook your leg around him, wanting him pressed against you everywhere.

Taehyung groans and one of his hands drops down to grab your thigh, wrapping it more securely around his waist. “Jump, baby,” He mumbles into your lips, and you listen automatically.

He perches you on the edge of the sink, kisses you deeply, and then sinks back down to his knees.

“Tae–” You protest, as he runs his hands slowly up your calves.

“I haven’t tasted you in so long, baby,” His dark eyes burn into yours, “Please don’t let me go another minute without you on my tongue.”

Fuck. Well, you can’t argue with that. When Tae sees you open your legs a bit more, he grins up at you and places a quick kiss on the inside of your knee.

His touch becomes more frantic as he moves up, his mouth placing hot kisses higher and higher.

When he sees the lacy red panties you have on, he snaps, lunging forward and hitching your thigh over his shoulder. Pushing your underwear to the side, his hot mouth is on you, closing over your clit without warning. You gasp as he sucks your bud into his mouth, lapping at it with his tongue.

Your hand winds its way into his curls, pushing him harder against you. He moans into your pussy. “So fucking wet for me, baby. God, I love you.”

Taehyung places a soft kiss on your inner thigh before his tongue returns to lick at your pussy, up and down. His tongue sinks into you, making your hips buck against his face. His hand shoots up to steady you as his tongue continues to flick in and out of you.

The sight of the boy you never stopped loving tongue deep in your pussy almost pushes you over the edge already. “Ta-ae,” You moan, hand tugging at his hair, “Harder, baby, please.”

Your words have their desired effect as he replaces his tongue with two of his fingers and places his mouth back on your clit. You moan as his fingers curl inside you, brushing your walls.

The first few strokes of his fingers are slow. Too slow for your liking, “Taehyung, fuck me with your fingers.”

A rumble moves up his chest as he obeys, pushing another finger deep inside of you. “Fuck, baby,” He curses and begins to thrust his fingers in and out of your pussy, “You feel even better than I remember, so goddamn wet.”

His mouth finally returns to your clit, his tongue flicking over it every so often. You’re hurtling towards your orgasm as his long fingers continue to pound into you and his mouth continues to lick at your pussy.

You feel the heat building up and you come with a gasp. Taehyung continues to fuck you with his fingers and his mouth, carrying you through your orgasm until you slump back against the mirror above the sink.

Taehyung grins up at you, licking up everything you gave him. Finally, you gently push him off you. Still licking his fingers clean, Taehyung’s eyes sparkle up at you, “Well? Wanna get married?”

“Oh my god,” You burst out laughing, hopping off the sink onto shaky legs. “Why don’t you start by wooing me? We’ll go from there.”

“Challenge accepted.”

You blink.

Taehyung smiles. His wild dark curls are sticking up in random places - courtesy of your hands. His eyes are full of their usual sinful promises, but this time they also hold excitement and a tiny spark of hope. “Prepare to be wooed, wifey.”

“Fuck off,” You laugh, quickly fixing your hair in the mirror before smoothing down your sweater dress.

Nodding at your semi-acceptable reflection, you swing the door open to reveal just about every person from the party collectively gathered just outside.

“I knew it!” Seokjin shrieks. “Where’s my mistletoe?”

“My poor bathroom!” Jimin cries, “Defiled! Desecrated!”

“Why am I friends with you all?” Yoongi asks no one in particular.

“Well,” Tae whispers in your ear, “At least we won’t have to tell them, right?”

You smile despite the embarrassing situation and nod. This Christmas might just be your best yet.

a/n: sorry that this is late and severely unedited LOL plz be kind, this is my first fic back and YA GIRL IS RUSTY

#bangtanhq #bangtanarmynet #btsbookclub #btsnoonanet #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #ficswithluv #kpopuniverse #ksmutclub #kwritersworld #networkbangtan #kim taehyung #kth #taehyung x reader #tae x reader #kth x reader #bts fanfic #bts

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jaskierswolf · 3 years

Note

😏 Hey, it's me, back again. On my knees, begging for more filth. I want some post mountain grovelling. I want Geralt on his knees. One of Jaskier's hands in his hair, holding his head still. The fingers of Jaskier's other hand in Geralt's mouth. <insert Gopher gif here>

Forgiveness

Not exactly filth? There is smut... but it caught plot. For those wondering... Jaskier's hair and beard looks something like this.

Rated: E

Length: 2.5k

CW: dom/sub vibes, subspace, oral sex

______________

Fear was not something that Geralt was accustomed to feeling. The trials had made sure of that, but the trials were created with monsters in mind, not bards. There had been a time when being afeared of Jaskier would have seemed preposterous. The worst thing that could have happened was the bard getting too close to a fight and getting hurt because of Geralt, but even then, Geralt had never been scared of Jaskier, more scared for him. Losing Jaskier to the witcher’s way of life would have been unforgivable, so Geralt made sure it didn’t happen.

Jaskier was gone.

And yet he still wasn’t safe. Geralt had torn his own heart into pieces to keep Jaskier safe, and now fucking Nilfgaard was destroying everything. Rumour had it that the army were looking for Jaskier, looking for a way to Geralt and to Ciri. So it was time for Geralt to swallow his pride and make amends. He’d travelled to Oxenfurt with his young ward in tow to search for his dearest friend, the man he’d broken. Ciri had been a surprising blessing in his life. Just like Jaskier, she had brought light to his life when there had been none, and he was beginning to realise that isolating himself did not make him stronger. His friends, brothers, lovers were more deadly than any sword or sign. Alone he was just one man, motivated by survival and a sense of duty.

For Ciri he would tear down the Continent.

For Yennefer he would climb the highest mountain.

For Jaskier…

He sighed. For Jaskier he would break his own heart, and for Jaskier he would try to make it right again.

It was more terrifying than any manticore or griffin.

A knock on the door, that’s all it would take. Instead he was just lurking outside the office, an elaborate “Professor Pankratz” painted in fine golden calligraphy on the panelling. Geralt pinched the bridge of his nose, every instinct he had was telling him to run, take Ciri back to Kaer Morhen for the winter and leave Jaskier. Surely no harm would come to him at the academy.

“Are you going to stare at my door all day, Geralt, or shall we go inside?”

Geralt’s eyes widened as he spun around to face his friend. He hadn’t heard Jaskier’s voice in years but there was no mistaking the lilting accent and the playful way that he spoke. No one else spoke quite like Jaskier. The bard’s voice may not have changed but Geralt was taken aback by Jaskier’s appearance. His hair, which had always been short and scruffy in the decades that Geralt had known him, was now long, the ends ticking just below his chin. The long locks were tucked behind one ear, and his fringe had grown out. But it was the beard that really drew Geralt’s attention. He’d never realised that Jaskier could grow a beard, he’d never even seen the bard with stubble before, and yet here was Jaskier sporting a thick beard that was as rich in colour as his hair, no sign of any grey despite his age.

He looked beautiful.

Piercing icy blue eyes burned with cool fire, and Geralt was reminded why this trip had worried him. Jaskier had been his most loyal friend, and despite his profession, the bard was dangerous. His tongue was sharp and his temper was short, for Lillit’s sake, he’d even tried to condemn a man to death with the blasted Djinn.

“Well? Come on, witcher, get inside or get out,” Jaskier said with the cool authority of the professor he had become. Gone was the eighteen year old fool that Geralt had met in Posada.

“Right, yes,” Geralt grumbled and stepped aside so that Jaskier could open the door. He trailed in after the bard, feeling very much like a dog with his tail between his legs.

“I never expected to see you at my door, Geralt,” Jaskier muttered as he busied himself around the room, sorting out his books and scrolls from his satchel, carefully placing his ink bottles on the messy desk, and shrugging out of his teaching robes.

Underneath the dark robes, he was wearing an elegant dark green doublet with matching breeches, gold thread stitching at the seams. To Geralt’s surprise, the bard's doublet was fully buttoned, hiding both the chemise and the mass of chest hair that Geralt knew was underneath the emerald fabric.

“I never expected to come,” Geralt admitted.

“Excellent, now you can leave again, it was good to see you old friend. Close the door on your way out.”

Jaskier’s words stung, a dagger between his ribs, poison running through his veins, but Geralt couldn’t give up, not without a proper fight. “I came to apologise.”

“Oh, ho, ho, that’s rich, witcher. What’s next? You’ll go and fetch your Child Surprise?”

“Ciri,” Geralt mumbled.

That seemed to have an effect, Jaskier froze, his back to Geralt. The bard slowly spun round and peered at Geralt. “So you finally found her?”

“I did.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Jaskier sighed, pushing his hair from his face and scratching idly at his beard. “Did she mention me?”

“She did.”

“So, tell me Geralt, are you here because you want to apologise, or because the princess demanded it?” Jaskier’s tone was sharper than any witcher sword, this was the man who had destroyed a knight’s honour with a few well-placed rhymes and catchy songs just because he had insulted Geralt, and Geralt wasn’t used to being on the receiving end.

“Nilfgaard are coming, Jaskier. I couldn’t leave you in danger. They are looking for you, because of me.”

Jaskier scoffed, throwing his arms up, almost knocking an ink bottle flying. “Nilfgaard, wow. Yup, yes, should have expected that.”

“I’m here to protect you,” Geralt growled, “and- and because I miss you.”

“Miss me?” Jaskier hissed, stepping forward so that there was barely any space between them, his sweet chamomile scent now flooding Geralt’s senses. “You should have led with that, witcher.”

“I-”

“Fine, you want to apologise. On your knees, grovel. I won’t follow you blindly again, Geralt. I need to know you won’t hurt me. You want to protect me?”

“Yes,” Geralt answered without hesitation.

“Then know that no one on this Continent has ever hurt me like you did on that fucking mountain. Forgiveness will take time,” Jaskier said haughtily, and Geralt dropped to his knees. He finally saw Jaskier’s rage for what it was; a shield. Jaskier was trying to protect himself… from Geralt.

“I am sorry, Jaskier,” Geralt said, his voice shaking but sincere. “I only ever meant to protect you. I lashed out. I was hurting after Yennefer. I shouldn’t have said those things to you, but-”

“Hollow excuses.”

“But I was scared,” Geralt finally glanced up, and oh what a sight. Jaskier was looming above him, his hair almost coppery in the candle light. He looked like a messenger from the gods. “My life is a dangerous one. I fucked up Yennefer’s life with one breath, how could I possibly risk doing the same for you?”

“You already did.”

“But you’re alive,” Geralt whispered quietly.

“I would have rather died, Geralt,” Jaskier hissed.

“Don’t be so dramatic, bard.”

“If it meant giving up my life with you. Life with you was the greatest adventure, there was never a dull moment. I got to live every single day. Now look at me, I’m trapped in a cage without the best friend I’ve ever had,” Jaskier spat. “So you’ll have to do better than that.”

Geralt lowered his gaze once more. He was running out of options, but there was one more card that he held close to his heart, rarely even admitting it to himself. They say that love can conquer anything. It hadn’t been true for him and Yen, but perhaps the sorceress had been right and their love was just an illusion created by his wish and the spell she’d cast on him.

“I love you,” he whispered, loud enough for human ears to hear but still a quiet admission, one he’d never said out loud before.

Jaskier didn’t say anything. Instead, there was a gentle tug at Geralt’s hair as Jaskier pulled the tie from its place. Geralt stayed still, letting his words hang in the air. The bard’s fingers began to gently run through Geralt’s hair, each touch sending warm tingles down his spine, and he felt his breathing relax almost into a meditative state. Jaskier had done this before when they were on the path, braiding Geralt’s hair whilst he meditated, but this felt different, there had never been this spark burning between them before.

There had never been those words lying heavy on Geralt’s tongue before. “I love you, Jask,” he repeated, his voice more slurred this time and he felt almost as if he had been drugged, his head feeling foggy. The haze got thicker with every stroke of Jaskier’s hand through his hair.

“Oh, dear heart,” Jaskier cooed, his voice sounding almost like a dream. “You have no idea how long I’ve yearned to hear those words.”

“I’m sorry,” Geralt mumbled. “Forgive me, Julek.”

“In time, my darling, in time,” Jaskier breathed, his scent sweeter now, something akin to arousal. It was hard to tell through the fuzziness in Geralt’s head.

There was a low whine, that Geralt vaguely registered as coming from him. Heat was beginning to thrum through his body, and he slowly realised that at some point he’d shut his eyes, completely submitting to his bard in his attempts to earn Jaskier’s forgiveness. He felt Jaskier’s fingers cupping his cheek, hooking under his chin. Geralt whimpered as he struggled to open his eyes.

“There you are, Geralt,” Jaskier whispered, “apology accepted, dear heart.”

“Jask…”

“I know, I know, I’m here,” the words washed over Geralt like a warm breeze.

“I- I- want…” Geralt didn’t know what he was asking for or what he wanted, but his head was spinning and suddenly the hand in his hair wasn’t enough. He’d gone so long without seeing Jaskier, and now that they weren’t together, it was like a dam had broken. All the things he’d been denying himself for years…

“Shh, Geralt, I’ve got you,” Jaskier hummed, and before Geralt could protest, he felt the press of Jaskier’s fingers at his lips. Eagerly, Geralt opened his lips, taking the digits into his mouth and sucking gently. He gazed up at his bard, drunk on the feeling of his own arousal.

Geralt had never seen Jaskier in his element at Oxenfurt before but the calm way in which Jaskier commanded the room was enticing. This was Jaskier’s office, his space. Geralt was the guest here, not the other way round. Usually Jaskier had to fit into Geralt’s life, but now it was Geralt’s turn, kneeling at the professor’s feet, a willing student, begging for another chance.

“Geralt?” Jaskier asked, cocking his head so that his long hair fell in front of his eyes. “Do- do you want this?”

Geralt hummed around Jaskier’s fingers, nodding his head. It felt like a stupid question. How could he not want this? It was everything he’d never let himself dream of. He tried to say yes, but the word was muffled by Jaskier’s fingers.

“Gods, darling, you look so beautiful like this,” Jaskier cooed, and there was a sharp tug in Geralt’s head. He moaned around Jaskier’s fingers, vaguely aware that his cock was now painfully hard in his trousers. “That’s it, my love, sing for me.”

Geralt moaned again, sucking at the fingers in his mouth, enjoying the weight on his tongue. He’d never done anything like this before, but with Jaskier it just felt right. When he’d come to Oxenfurt he hadn’t expected anything like this to happen. He’d been praying to whatever gods were listening that Jaskier would forgive him, anything more than that had been an impossible dream. Geralt’s eyes fluttered shut and he hummed happily, shifting his weight until he was in a more comfortable position, the one he used for meditating. Like this, he could sit at Jaskier’s feet for hours should the bard wish.

But instead, Jaskier pulled his fingers from Geralt’s mouth. The emptiness left an ache deep inside Geralt that he hadn’t expected, but Jaskier’s other hand cupped his cheek, tilting his head so he was forced to look up at the bard. There was an undeniable fondness in Jaskier’s eyes, and between the beard and the extra weight he’d put on now that he was settled at Oxenfurt, he looked so warm… cuddly.

And Geralt wanted him.

“Can I- do you want my cock?” Jaskier stumbled over the words, a break in his previously mask of calmness. “We don’t- it’s just a suggestion…”

“Yes,” Geralt breathed, gazing up at the man he loved. In fact, he could think of nothing he wanted more in that moment. He swallowed, his mouth dry as he shuffled forward to nuzzle against the bulge in Jaskier’s trousers. Jaskier groaned as Geralt mouthed at his erection through the fabric. “Please, Jaskier.”

“Go on then, witcher, please me.”

Geralt’s fingers shook as he untied the lacing at the front of Jaskier’s trousers, and they moaned in unison as he finally took the tip of Jaskier’s cock into his mouth, the taste of precum bitter on his tongue.

“Gods, Geralt, I never thought I’d see the day…”

Geralt just hummed, licking at Jaskier’s slit before bobbing his head, slowly taking more into his mouth. There was another tug at his hair and he hummed, relaxing into his movements as Jaskier slowly began to rock his hips, gently thrusting into Geralt’s mouth. All the while, a steady stream of soft praises fell from the bard’s lips. Geralt had never felt particularly aroused from sucking cock before, but at Jaskier’s feet, the gentle words lingering in the air and the rhythmic touch of fingers caressing through his hair, he was closer to cumming than he thought possible.

He gasped as he pulled back, biting back a moan as he rested his head on Jaskier’s thigh. “I- Jask, fuck…”

“Shall I take you to bed, darling?” Jaskier cooed, gently pulling Geralt to his feet.

His legs were shaking and he fell into his bard's waiting arms, burying his nose in the crook of Jaskier’s neck. Geralt hummed as he kissed Jaskier’s neck, the soft bristles of the bard’s beard warm against his skin. “Your beard is soft,” he murmured, running his lips along the edge of the beard until they were ghosting over Jaskier’s lips, a tease of a kiss yet to come.

Jaskier laughed, pressing their foreheads together. “The luxuries of Oxenfurt, my dear witcher.”

“Smells good too,” Geralt hummed, finally capturing Jaskier’s lips in a chaste kiss. The bard moaned quietly and his fingers dug into Geralt’s side, pulling him closer. “Smells like home.”

After a few moments of being lost in each other, Jaskier finally took Geralt’s hand, lacing their fingers together and leading him through the office to the bedroom that lay beyond. They had a long way to go before Geralt was truly forgiven but this was a start.

This was their start, their new beginning, a new chapter in their adventure.

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #professor pankratz #wolfie’s witcher writing

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arysafics · 3 years

Note

if you're taking smut prompts rn please write one where bellamy gets spanked (by clarke obviously)

i mostly just wrote this to prove that i still can write something short and simple in under a day. so thanks for the prompt!

i'll be good (rated e, ~2k words)

He’s standing there in Clarke Griffin’s unnecessarily huge office, his pulse racing, beads of sweat forming on his brow. The huge window behind her offers him a view of the sparkling city lights, and the only illumination inside the room comes from her desk lamp. It’s well after knock off time, the rest of the staff went home hours ago.

Bellamy, however, had been forced to stay behind to finish his article for tomorrow’s issue of the magazine. Never mind that it’s Clarke’s fault he didn’t get it done on time. If she just let him do his work, instead of calling him into her office every hour, bossing him around like he’s her assistant and not one of the senior writers at the company.

He’s the one who should be sitting in that editor’s chair, not her.

And yet he still does her bidding, still has nerves churning in his belly as she reads over the final draft of his article, desperate for her approval. Perhaps she is more suited for the editor position after all.

“It’s good,” she says, looking up. “Well done.”

Bellamy breathes a sigh of relief, and he tries not to preen too much at her praise. All she said was well done for fuck’s sake. Not exactly the most glowing review.

“Thank you, ma’am” he says.

“However,” Clarke continues, and Bellamy tenses. “It was late.”

He nods, swallowing thickly. The thundering of his heart starts up again. “Yes, ma’am.”

He’s only like this with her. Agreeable. Meek. Submissive. It would embarrass him, if his co-workers knew what he was really like, when it’s just him and the boss.

With them he’s confident, brash, arrogant. He tells snide jokes about her, tells them how he was robbed of the promotion, what he’d do to her if she ever let him fuck her. He repeats it all to her later, apologetic, grovelling, and she laughs before she punishes him for it.

“You know what that means, don’t you, Bellamy?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he croaks. “You have to punish me, ma’am. I deserve a spanking.”

The thing is, he likes being punished almost as much as he likes being praised. He can already feel his cock hardening just from the implication of it.

“Come here,” she says, crooking her finger, her voice raspy but even. She quit smoking three years ago, but it left her with the sexiest fucking voice he’s ever heard.

She stands as he walks over to her, and he lets his eyes rake over her. She dresses in what he likes to call “professional sexy” for work. Tight blouse tucked into a tight skirt. Stilettos and red lipstick. She uses her femininity as a weapon, and he’s not the only one it works on. She’s a force to be reckoned with.

He stops in front of her, heart pounding, waiting for her next instruction. They’re almost eye to eye when she’s wearing heels, only the tiniest bit shorter than him.

“Take your shirt off,” she commands him, and he obeys with shaky hands. It’s not necessary really, for the punishment. But the more naked he is, the more humiliating it is, no matter how good he looks naked. Plus, he thinks she just likes looking at his chest.

She reaches for his belt, and he flushes as she unbuckles it, not breaking eye contact.

“Turn around,” she whispers. “Hands on the desk.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He can feel Clarke behind him, and his skin prickles with anticipation. She trails a finger down his spine, and he forced himself to hold still. His cock is fully hard now, straining at his fly.

She reaches around and deftly undoes his pants, then pushes them down to his knees. He can feel her soft breasts press against his bare back as she reaches around him again, her hand coming to rest on his crotch. The scent of her floral perfume fills his nostrils.

“Hard already?” she says, a teasing lilt to her voice that simultaneously turns him on and humiliates him. “Naughty boy. Sometimes I wonder if you enjoy these punishments a little too much.”

He does, he absolutely does. He doesn’t know what he’d do if she stopped. If she decided he wasn’t worth her attention anymore.

She peels his boxers away then, dragging them down to join his pants at his knees, so his bare ass is on display for her. He shivers as she runs her hand over his cheeks, and his cock throbs.

“How many spanks for a late submission?” Clarke wonders aloud. “It is your first offence. But I don’t want to let you off too lightly. Shall we say fifteen?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t forget to count them for me, baby. And no complaining or I’ll have to start over,” Clarke warns him. He nods, brain still latched onto the way she called him baby.

The first slap is quick and sharp, and he gasps at the impact. She lands a second blow as soon as he’s counted out the word one, and then a third and fourth follow in quick succession, right in the same place.

She doesn’t hit hard exactly, but tears prick in his eyes by the fifth smack, and he’s sure he must have a bright red mark on his brown skin.

“Five,” he whimpers. His ass stings, and yet it feels so good. She switches to his other ass cheek, and repeats the process, spanking his toned ass in five short, biting blows.

He doesn’t complain, just counts each slap a little breathlessly, feeling emasculated as he whimpers and whines, tears in eyes as his boss spanks his bare bottom like he’s a naughty child.

His cock is absolutely aching, his balls ready to burst. He wants her to allow him release, to touch his cock, rub him or suck him or ride him. Anything to release the tension, the tightness in his gut. But he still has five smacks left in his spanking.

The last five she delivers at random, so he doesn’t know which cheek she’s about to hit, and it makes each one more painful and more delicious.

“Thirteen,” he moans, his ass cheeks on fire. “Fourteen. Fifteen,” he gasps out, as Clarke gives him his last spank.

He’s breathing heavy, his face hot. He’s almost crying, feeling embarrassed and chastened and unbearably horny.

“There,” she says. “Have you learned your lesson?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“And what is that?”

“Get my articles in on time.”

“Good,” she says. She opens her desk drawer and pulls out a bottle of lotion, squirting some onto her hand. “Good boy,” she says soothingly, and his cheeks grow even hotter, his stomach swirling, his cock jumping. “You did such a good job,” she coos, rubbing the lotion over his ass, gently cooling the stinging hand prints.

He’s not sure which he likes more, the punishment itself, or the part when she rubs his bottom and tells him what a good boy he is. If he had a tail, he’d probably be wagging it right now.

She finishes rubbing the lotion into his skin, and then he feels her dainty little fingers slip into his ass crack, teasing his hole for a moment before pushing into him. His breath catches, and he lets out a moan of pleasure.

“You like that, don’t you, baby?” Clarke murmurs, pressing her lips against his shoulder as she fingers his asshole. “Love it when I play with your asshole.”

He nods, squeezing his eyes shut. “Yes ma’am. It feels so good.”

He grips the table, and it’s all he can do not to wrap a fist around his cock and start jerking like his life depends on it.

“Please,” he whines pitifully.

“Please what?”

“Please, I need to come,” he chokes out. “My cock, please touch my cock.”

“Is your cock feeling neglected, baby?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he whimpers.

“Show me.” He turns around and Clarke’s eyes fall to his massive erection. “Goodness,” she says, teasing. “Look at that big, hard cock. You need to come so bad, don’t you? Got all worked up from your spanking.”

Bellamy nods, hoping she’ll take pity on him. “Please.”

“I’m not sure I should let you come,” Clarke muses, and Bellamy wants to cry. If she pulls his pants back up and makes him walk out of here with this raging erection, he’s not sure how he’ll survive. She doesn’t let him masturbate. Only she’s allowed to make him come.

“I’ll be good,” Bellamy promises. “Please, I promise I’ll be a good boy. I’ll do everything you say.”

“You’ll do everything I say regardless of if I let you come or not,” Clarke points out. Bellamy whines, and he hates himself for how pathetic he sounds, but he can’t help it. “Okay,” Clarke relents. Bellamy’s stomach lurches, and he forgets how to breathe for a moment as Clarke lowers herself to her knees.

The first brush of her tongue over the head of his cock makes him jerk his hips forward, and she pulls back, looking up at him, disapproving.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “I’ll be good, I swear.”

She nods, then drops her focus back to his cock. He forced himself to stay still as she licks him all over, down the length of his cock, over his balls. She takes him into her mouth, just halfway at first, sucking him, then taking him all the way into the back of her throat, so her nose is touching his pelvis. He has to throw his head back so he doesn’t come from the mere visual of it. If he comes before she says so, she may not let him come for days. Weeks even, if she’s feeling particularly cruel.

She backs off a little, worshipping the top third of his cock with her mouth, her hand wrapped around the base. She’s on her knees, her mouth full of his cock, but she’s still the one in control, still the one with all the power. He’s helpless, weak, completely at her mercy. Which is how he prefers to be.

She lavishes his cock until he’s at breaking point, desperately trying to hold off his orgasm, and then she gives his thigh a tap, the signal that he’s allowed to come. Then she moves the same hand to his ass, pushing him over the edge with just the tip of her finger in his asshole.

He moans as he comes down her throat, hips thrusting forward against her face, pleasure shuddering though him, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

She pops off his cock smacking her lips and wiping her mouth. He collapses against the desk, his bottom still aching from his spanking.

“Thank you,” he pants.

Clarke gets to her feet, and presses a kiss to his lips. “Get dressed, baby, you need to get home and shower if we want to make the dinner reservation on time.”

Bellamy nods, but his head is still a little foggy, and he lets Clarke dress him instead.

“Are you going to be okay?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he breathes. It’s not even the best orgasm she’s ever given him, yet it still takes him a while to come back down to earth. It’s her, he thinks. It’s just what she does to him. “My ass hurts,” he admits. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to sit.”

Clarke gives him sympathetic eyes. “I won’t make you sit the whole time,” she promises. “At some point I’ll need you to get under the table and lick my pussy, because spanking you and sucking you off has made me very wet and very horny.”

Bellamy gives her a lopsided grin. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And if you’re good at dinner, I may even let you come home with me, would you like that?”

“Yes.”

She gives him another kiss. “Good boy,” she murmurs. And he really does feel good.

#bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #mine

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mrsluthordanvers · 4 years

Note

Au where Kara used the book of destiny and lose her mind. When Lena wakes up after the crisis nobody can remember Kara.

So I’ll be honest I still don’t fully understand what happened in crisis, but I did my best!

Read on AO3 + my ko-fi

“Supergirl.” Lena greets coldly as two familiar red boots land on her balcony.

A visit is about the last thing she wants right now. She’s still trying to wrap her head around everything Lex was talking about this morning. In one fell swoop, the world she knew was gone, she lost her company, and her brother was being awarded the noble peace prize instead of being sentenced to prison. It’s enough to make her head ache, and the idea of listening to Kara grovel only makes it worse.

“Miss Luthor.” Supergirl replies as she walks into Lena’s office, her cape billowing behind her.

Lena keeps a straight face at Kara’s unusual coolness. It’s reminiscent of the early days of their friendship and Lena hates how it throws her off. After weeks of apologies and begging, Kara stands in the middle of her office every inch the Super she is, looking like she’s inspecting the place.

“If you’re here to explain, there’s no need, Lex already filled me up.” Lena rubs her temples wearily.

Supergirl’s brow furrows as she turns slightly to look at Lena over her shoulder.

“Explain what?”

Lena lifts her head slightly to look Kara in the eye as she turns fully towards her.

“Crisis. The book of destiny, the anti-monitor, Luthor Corp.” Each word falls from Lena’s lips like they leave a bad aftertaste in her mouth.

“I think there might be some confusion as to why I’m here Miss Luthor.”

Lena fully lifts her head this time as she leans back into her chair.

“So, what, you were just going to skip over everything? Hope I didn’t remember so that you don’t have to keep apologizing?”

Supergirl takes a step forward, hands settling on her hips.

“Have I offended you in some way?”

“Offended?” Lena stands, ignoring how her head throbs with every step she takes to round her desk. “You only lied to me for years about your secret identity.”

“My secret identity?”

“This is how we’re going to do this? A new reality, and you go right back to lying to me?”

“Miss Luthor, I really don’t know- “

“Kara Danvers.” Lena seethes. She hates that Kara is forcing her to say it. That she’s still denying it to Lena. “CatCo reporter.”

“Who’s Kara Danvers?”

The words hit Lena like a bucket of ice water. Her whole body stiffens as the hero stares at her with concerned eyes.

“Lena…” Supergirl’s voice is so soft and familiar all of a sudden that it makes Lena’s stomach twist. “Can I take you to the DEO? I think you might be sick.”

“I think you might be right.” Lena finally answers, as she smiles robotically at Supergirl. “But I can’t let you fly me off in the middle of the day.”

Supergirl looks like she’s about to protest when Lena continues, “I will go as soon as I’m done for the day.”

“Promise?”

Lena feels nauseous as she looks at Supergirl looking at her with an expression she’s seen a hundred times.

“’I promise.” Lena croaks.

---

Walking into the DEO is much easier now, Lena realizes. A perk of having her family name written across the floor, everyone is much less surprised to see her. The only head that turns towards the sound of her heels echoing on tile floors is Director Alex Danvers.

Lena barely slows as she signals to the director before letting herself into the nearest office.

“Something’s wrong with Supergirl.” Lena says as soon as she hears the door click.

“Did something happen at your office?”

“You could say that.” Lena scoffs as she turns to look at Alex.

“She went to tell you that we found evidence that Lex is stealing your work, just like you said. What happened?”

That makes Lena pause. She and Kara didn’t actually get around to talking about why she had come by the office. She had flown out the window shortly after Lena promised she’d go to the DEO herself.

“Lex is stealing my work?” Lena blinks. “That bastard is winning a noble peace prize with my work?”

Alex uncrosses her arms and takes a half step forward with a gentle look of concern.

“Lena, is everything alright? You already knew this was happening, we talked about it remember?” Alex takes another cautious half step forward. Lena winces internally as she feels a stab of pain behind her left eye as she realizes in frustration Kara must have already talked to Alex about this morning. “You came to me. You told me that Lex wasn’t everything he seemed. We’ve been looking for this evidence for months…Supergirl wanted to be the one to tell you.”

Of course.

Of course, Kara would want to be the one to tell her. Of course, Kara believes in her. Kara’s always believes in her. Why would the destruction of the multiverse change that?

Lena’s chest tightens, her breathing growing shallow as she reaches out casually to brace herself on the table.

“Lena.” Alex’s face swims before her, her voice coming in and out as she navigates Lena into a chair. “Lena, you need to sit down.”

Lena’s murmuring to herself, calling Lex all sorts of unpleasant names under her breath. “He can recreate the universe but he can’t recreate himself. Same manipulating, cunning, asshole.”

“Recreate the universe? What are you talking about?”

“Lex.” Lena says like it’s completely obvious, before she looks Alex dead in the eyes and sees all the same concern, she had seen in Kara’s eyes this morning.

“God, you don’t remember anything either, do you?”

“Remember what?”

“The multiverse!” Lena stands, inadvertently pushing Alex back.

“The DEO,” Lena points in the direction of the agents she knows sit outside the office, “was a black ops government agency. You were still the director and Supergirl still worked for you. But you told people you were a part of the FBI because people don’t know you exist. And it certainly wasn’t a Luthor subsidiary! I helped out occasionally but…” Lena waves her hand in the air as she continues.

“Luthor Corp. Luthor Corp was L-Corp. I became CEO when Lex was sentenced to 32 consecutive life sentences after trying to kill Superman and murdering innocent people in the process. I’m the one that made it a force for good! Not him!

And Supergirl! Supergirl is Kara Danvers, a sweet, sunny reporter for CatCo magazine because even in her secret identity she can’t stand to see injustice in the world. She’d just won a Pulitzer Award. Your parents adopted her as a child. She’s your sister, she’s my best friend. And no one remembers who she is! She doesn’t even remember who she is!”

Lena’s almost panting by the time she stops. Her throat aches slightly from raising her voice, and her headache is definitely back in full swing.

“You’re not the only one that remembers.”

Lena turns towards the door to find J’onn watching them both.

“Kara seems to be the only Paragon that doesn’t remember what happened.”

“Lex probably made sure of that.” Lena hisses as J’onn just nods in agreement.

“Manipulating someone’s memories can be dangerous. I wanted to be sure it was the right thing to do.”

Lena lifts her chin, jaw muscles clenching slightly. “And, what have you decided?”

J’onn looks over to Alex momentarily before looking back at Lena. “I think it would be best if I restored Alex and Kara’s memories…Lex isn’t what he seems in this world, and he has all of his memories. They can help us better if they have their memories.”

Lena nods, “And everyone else?”

“I can’t.” J’onn says regretfully. “Restoring everyone’s memories could have catastrophic consequences. It would change relationships on such a large scale that the mental impact would- “

“I understand.” Lena sighs, as she lowers herself into a chair. “But Kara and Alex?”

“Should not pose any problems.”

---

“You may want to sit for this.” J’onn suggests gently, not bothering to specify if he is talking to Kara or Alex.

Lena watches as he places hands on both of Alex’s temples and closes his eyes, Alex following his lead. She feels a pang of sympathy as Alex winces every once in awhile, her eyes flicking back and forth under her lids.

Finally, Alex settles and J’onn steps back. It’s a moment longer before Alex’s eyes start to flutter, and she finally opens them. Looking between Lena and J’onn she takes a deep breath but says nothing.

“It’s okay if you need a minute.” J’onn says as he gives Alex’s knee a squeeze.

“Kelly?” Alex croaks, looking relieved when J’onn nods again.

“We can talk to her. I can restore her memories too, if she wishes.”

Then J’onn turns to Kara, waiting as she stares over his shoulder at Lena.

“I’m ready.” Kara says strongly, never breaking eye contact until she closes her eyes at J’onn’s touch.

Kara twitches more then Alex did. Occasionally crying out as she clenches the arms of the chair. The plastic warping under her strength. Lena holds her breath as a single tear runs down Kara’s cheek as J’onn pulls away.

Both J’onn and Alex quietly leave while Kara still sits in her chair, eyes closed, gently breathing.

“Lena?”

“I’m here.” Lena whispers as she shifts quietly to the chair closest to Kara.

“I’m really sorry.” Kara whimpers, her eyes scrunching up against more tears.

Lena nods despite Kara’s eyes still being closed. “I’m sorry too.”

Lena takes a deep breath when watery blue eyes blink open to look as her.

“I made a terrible mistake. I was hurt…I was so hurt, and, I thought I could get rid of the hurt…I thought I could push you away.” Lena’s voice shakes as she lifts a hand to stop Kara from talking. “But I can’t…For a moment this morning I was forced to live a reality where Kara Danvers didn’t exist. And I realized…I realized I’d rather be fighting with you than push you out of my life again, because even for a moment, not having you in my life was the worse thing I could imagine.”

Lena blinks, taking in another long shuddering breath as Kara stares at her for a long moment.

“I’m still going to need some time…”

“I know.” Kara whispers.

“But I’d really like to start working towards being your friend again…if you’ll have me?”

It’s like every tense muscle in Kara’s body deflates at those words as she smiles softly at Lena.

“Always.”

#supergirl #supercorp #supercorp sunday #kara danvers #lena luthor #nemo writes #fanfiction #i don't know if this even makes sense #but the idea of kara not even remembering kara danvers makes my heart ache #and it makes lena's heart ache too #Anonymous

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renzu-valra · 3 years

Text

Prompt #24: Illustrious

Character: Seymour Ivar ♦ Region: Ishgard ♦ Time: 20 Years Ago Hosted by: @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast Warnings: child endangerment

As if I truly had been something insignificant, I coughed hard enough to fall to my knees. Though it offered no reprieve, I gripped at my chest and began to heave in wanting breath. Looking down into my palm, I saw a scattered dot of blood stain my white hand. Whatever foul disease this was, if left untreated…I knew naught what my chances were.

“F…father,” I groaned feebly, pleading darkly his aid. “There’s…blood.” Managing the strength to lift my head up, I saw the ends of his feet sticking out under his desk. He did not move. The sick smell of freshly grown herbs flooded my nostrils. Dirt and strange scents both.

He had begun teaching me his trade. All over the land his wares had been sold—potions, mainly. Tonics to make your hair grow, medicine to treat a variety of ailments…and now, he had been working on something which promised to defeat death and make himself a legend. To that end however, he became obsessed to the point I could not recognize him anymore. But that implied I knew him to be a better person at least once before. If what mother said was true, then he was kind to me for a time. The day I was born.

Why his passions consumed him to this degree, I couldn’t understand. Right now, we couldn’t even see eye to eye. His feet were all that was given to me. Feet. Like I was some lowlife groveling for scraps.

And scraps were what I received. A small notebook he shoved off his desk and onto the floor. One which…by the looks of it was a recipe book of bronchial remedies. I had everything I needed at my disposal here. This was why he brought me to his lab. What worth was a son who couldn’t save his own hide? Even if I died in the process, it would still serve his scheme. Death, and all that it entailed would prove his dogma until the day came he defeated it utterly.

But if he was really so bewitched by the ‘disease’ then what would prompt him to go completely over the edge and give his own life to the cause? Why not…bring forth that destined reality sooner?

These books were his life’s work. With them, I’d have no need for him whatsoever. Extending life was a pointless thing. Death couldn’t be cured and life was meant to be enjoyed. Through contest, skill, and imagination. Through invention. But those who yearn for death should be given it if that’s their ambition.

I didn’t want to die.

More than that, I wanted to seize my future. My life was my responsibility.

He brought me here to learn his profession. What I learned instead was drive.

The thrill of danger and the boundaries of my will. I could be pushed farther yet.

I would push him to the brink.

Then I would destroy him.

#ffxivwrite2021 #FFXIV #ffxiv rp #the serpent's manor

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the-mighty-jellybean · 4 years

Text

Crown of Thorns

“What will I be when I grow up, Lady Mother?” Y/N asked, the bed sheets wrapped high under her chin, arms clutching her knees.

“You will be Queen, my darling,” she cupped her face, and she leaned into her touch, “and a warrior.”

Series Summary: After the need for their alliance during the Battle of Titan, King Stephen asked in return for his services, that King Anthony of the Iron Islands’, first born daughter would be given in marriage, to his sons, Prince Steven and Prince James of the Kingdom of Kamar-Taj. Despite King Anthony’s other offers, King Stephen would only agree to one, or there would be war between their two Kingdoms. Leaving King Anthony with no choice, he sacrificed his first born daughter, in hopes of sparing his people of anymore suffering. Anthony prayed that the men would care for his daughter, and love her as he did, but a sparkly crown can hide a thousand secrets.

Pairing: Prince!Steve x Princess!Reader x Prince!Bucky

Series Warnings: Strong Language, Violence, Angst, Fluff (There will be some fluffy stuff I promise, I can't resist), Smut: This series will include some aspects of Dub-con/Non-con: Steve and Bucky aren't going to be Prince Charmings. More Warnings will be posted on Chapters.

Masterlist

Part Five: Pit of Despair

Chapter Warnings: Scenes of a Sexual Nature

Word Count: 3.6k

For five days, Y/N had been looking out of her bedroom window, in the Kamar-Taj castle. Five days she had spent locked away in her room, gazing at her old life, through the heavy fog, and deep ocean. Her heart strings were pulled and strained, every time she envisioned Peter’s face, as they dragged him away to the dungeon.

Wanda and Maria had tried to coax her from her hiding place, but she refused, choosing to resume staring out at the wasteland. Her hands clasped tightly, around the cool metal of the dagger, that Peter had gifted to her, before his untimely imprisonment.

Y/N had begged King Stephen for her to be allowed to visit, her closest friend, but she had been denied. Her thoughts turned to grovelling to the Princes, but she knew that Peter would rather Hell freeze over, than her to subject herself to that, on his behalf.

On her sixth day, of her self-confinment, a knock broke her gaze, and she turned to the heavy wooded door.

“Who is it?” she called, her voice sounding sticky and chapped, after spending so long in silence.

“Prince Steve and Prince James, please, we would like to see you.” The voice was deep, yet it was gentle, pausing for a moment, Y/N stood from her window ledged seat, trapsing across the stone floor, to slide the bolt across, with a heavy clunk.

“Come in.”

Hurriedly stepping away, she made sure that there was a large table, and a few chairs distance from her and the approaching men. The door swung wide, as the two Princes entered.

Y/N nearly didn’t recognise them, as they weren’t dressed in their usual neatly presented military uniforms, instead; they wore slacks with a simple tunic. For a moment they reminded her of Peter, but Y/N had to stop that thought, thinking of the brown eyed boy made her heartache.

“What can I do for you?” Y/N asked, bitterly, playing with some loose strands on her shawl.

“We’d like to spend some time with you, Lady Y/N.” Steve spoke bluntly, taking a few paces towards her, making Y/N back away slightly.

“Before the wedding, we would like to get to know you.” James tried what Y/N thought, was his best attempt at a smile, but it wasn’t a full one, his lips, barely twitching.

“I’m not currently in the capacity to entertain your companionship.” Y/N replied, glumly, looking away, and back to the window.

“Why? Do you still weep for your lap dog?”

“Buck.” Steve chided, sharply.

Y/N spun around, a fury in her eyes, that almost intimidated the Princes. Almost.

“He wasn’t my lap dog, he was my friend…my best friend, and now he’s sitting in your dungeon, rotting away.” Y/N spat; her fists were clenched at her sides.

“That peasant boy, punched a man of royalty in the face, he’s getting everything he deserves…and more.” James smirked wickedly, which made Y/N’s eyes narrow in confusion.

“What do you mean?” Y/N stepped towards the table that had so far remained as a barrier between the three of them. Y/N gripped the back of the chair, her nails almost denting the wood.

“Didn’t you know?” James’ eyebrows lift, and he drags out one of the chairs so that he could seat himself at the table, “Young Parker will be facing trial for what he did at the party.”

“Trial?” Y/N spoke in shock, “But it was merely a dispute among two drunkenly men.”

“First off, Princess, neither of us were drunk, and secondly, Peter is no man, he is a boy, who likes to play games with men.” Steve, sits next to James, resting back in the chair, as his knees relaxed, spreading his legs dominantly.

“It saddens me to think that your only perception of what a man is, is the Ward?” James teased, Y/N, only further angering her.

“He’s more of a man then you two will ever be.” Y/N hissed, her eyes darted to a paper weight that sat on top of the desk, and for a moment she contemplated throwing it at either one of them, but took a deep breath to conserve herself.

“Just you wait, little Princess, I’ll show you what a real man can do.” James’ voice deepened, making Y/N swallow, but she bit back her trembling lip, pushing off the table in annoyance.

“If you’ve just come here to tease me, then I’d politely ask you to leave.” Y/N crossed her arms.

“And what if we don’t?” Steve shrugged, looking between James and Y/N.

“Then I won’t be so polite in my asking.” Y/N sassed, her eyes flickering to the dagger that lay on the window seat, Steve following her gaze and snorting loudly.

“Oh sweetheart, a little fork won’t scare us. However, I should warn you; don’t make too many threats, or you could be joining, the little boy in his new humble abode.” Steve threatened, with a smile.

“I’d be happy to.” Y/N sneered.

“Well this was lovely; we should do this more often.” James sighed, standing up and brushing his breeches off, “We must be going now Steven, wouldn’t want our little bird getting too flustered. We’ll see you tomorrow, at the trial, Steve and I have front row seats.”

The paperweight looked so inviting, but Y/N was able to swallow her impulse, and just watched the two men leave, Steve casting her one more smirk, before closing the door behind him.

Y/N lifted the paperweight and hurled it at the door, it hit the wood with a loud thud, before it smashed onto the floor. Breathing heavily, Y/N began to pace her room, her mind whirling and spinning, as she tried to think of how she could see Peter.

~~~~

“Goodnight, Princess.” Lady Wanda spoke sadly, blowing out the last few candles in her room, but leaving the one by the bedside burning, at Y/N’s request.

“Night Wanda.” Y/N spoke shortly, Wanda looking down in defeat as she left the room, Maria following glumly behind her.

Once Y/N heard the latch on the door close, she leapt out of bed, and pulled her blue cloak over her white nightdress, tying it tightly round her neck and picking up the candle, that was left burning on the bedside.

Opening the door, she peered along the gloomy corridors, that were scarcely illuminated by the orange glow of the candles. The hallway appeared to be deserted, seizing her chance, Y/N pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, and grabbed the washing basket that lay by the door.

Using her own candle and the ones mounted on the wall, she wandered along the corridor with the candle lighting her way. She reached a series of tunnels that at first had her confused, but quickly she thought back to her tour with Wong, and how he had informed her of all the routes in the castle.

Taking one of the tunnels she was happy to see that she was on the right track to the dungeons. Y/N took a sharp breath in, when two maids appeared to be approaching her, she gripped the washing basket harder, looking to her feet, in hopes of remaining undetected.

The two girls laughed and continued their chattering as they passed by the Princess, completely oblivious to the world around them.

Finally, Y/N reached the big iron door, that led to the dungeon.

Leaving the basket by the door, she grabbed one of the bigger torches, and began to descend down the sloping stone steps, the smell of damp and mould making her turn her nose up.

The smell seemed to only worsen the further she walked, changing from damp to piss and a mixture of blood and faeces. It nearly made Y/N gag, but she held her breath, only occasionally breathing through her tightly shut lips.

The staircase appeared to go on forever, Y/N’s footsteps echoing, quietly, as she kept walking down the spiral stone.

Finally, she reached the bottom, the key to the main door, appeared to just be left on the wall next to it. Suspiciously, Y/N grabbed the key, and unlocked the bared door, it swung open with a creak, which made Y/N cringe, as it echoed into the dark abys.

Clutching her cloak over her body, and the handle of the flame, she walked through the sludge of hay and human mess, as she passed by all of the cells.

Most were empty, but every now and then the light of Y/N’s flame, would catch in the eyes of shivering and jabbering humans. The majority sat in the corner of their cages, rocking slightly from side to side. All looked malnourished and tired, their eyes sunken into their heads, their lips chapped from their minimal diet and refreshment, all pale from the lack of sunlight, although; it was hard to tell what was skin and what was just grime from the awful conditions that these people were forced in.

Eventually, Y/N heard the faint chatter of guards at one of the ends of the prisons, throwing he light to the ground, and watching it dwindle out, she slowly stalked towards the ominous glow of the guards, who sat round a small table playing dice.

“I ‘erd ‘e’s only got till the mornin, then their gonna axe ‘im.” One of the guards spoke in a thick accent, making Y/N strain her ears.

“The Princes, want him gone, apparently he’s been bedding the Princess.” Another chuckled, the others following suit.

“Don’t be stupid, the King wouldn’t allow a ruined girl, be with his precious sons.”

It slowly dawned on Y/N that these men were talking about her, and the boy that they are referring to is Peter.

To the side of her, Y/N saw that there were some gaps in the wall, that led all the way up to the rafters of the dungeons. Untying her cloak, she let it fall to the grimy floor, unbothered in what it might be covered in, and she began to climb her way up the wall.

Stretching, she was able to grab hold of the beam, and pull herself up, so that she could then shuffle along, pass the table of guards, who were too absorbed in talking about her, to notice that the subject of conversation, was currently above their heads.

Managing to make it through the small group, she climbs her way down, finding another collecting of cells, her eyes landing on one in particular. Y/N gasped at the sight.

“Peter?”

Y/N knelt at the bars, as she tried to reach through and brush her fingers over the bruised and bloodied boy’s face.

“Y/N?” Peter croaked, slowly pulling himself up with the help of the bars.

Y/N barely recognised Peter, as he sat up, and the faint lights from behind her, allowed her to see the true extent of Peter’s facial injuries.

“Don’t be afraid, Y/N.” Peter choked, when Y/N hadn’t stopped staring in shock at his wounds. Peter’s eyes were swollen, one of them blackened all the way around, the other tinged blue; his lip was split, a small trail of blood had dried on his chin, which also played host to a greenish brown mark. There were a few lumps on Peter’s forehead; overall it made Y/N sick to look at him.

“Oh, Peter.” Y/N reached through to lightly hold Peter’s face, he winced, but let her fingers settle on his painful skin. Y/N’s eyes welled with both sadness and anger as she thought of who was responsible for this.

“It’s alright, Y/N. It’s not as bad as it looks.” Peter tried to smile, but the action only widening the split in his lip, making it start to bleed again.

“Who did this to you?” Y/N finally managed to muscle out a question.

“The guards.” Peter shrugged simply.

“I must tell the King-“

“No.” Peter grabbed Y/N’s hands, so she was forced to look at his bloody face, “You mustn’t tell the King that you have seen me.”

“But he must know about what has happened to you.”

“He ordered it, Y/N.” Peter spoke sadly, moving out of Y/N’s reach and pressing his back to the wall, “The King ordered it.”

Y/N felt as though she couldn’t breathe, and it wasn’t because of the smell, her lungs felt like they would collapse with shock, as she sunk onto her knees.

“This is all my fault, I must send a hawk to my father, get him to bring us home-“

“You can’t go home, Y/N…and neither will I.” For the first time, in a long while, Y/N saw a genuine flicker of fear in Peter’s big brown eyes.

“What do you mean?” Y/N sat closer to the bars, wishing anything, that she could just hold Peter close and never let go.

“You must marry the Princes, or there will be a war, to end all wars.” Peter frowned, taking your hand through the bars.

“But why can’t you go home?” Y/N tilted her head, Peter squeezing her hand tightly.

“I hear the guards talking. What I did Y/N…it’s treason. You and I both know the penalty for treason.” Y/N’s eyes widened, the tears collecting once again.

“I can’t lose you, Peter.” Y/N choked out, gripping Peter’s hand so tightly, it might as well fall off.

“Hopefully you won’t have to.” Y/N saw the glint of a plan in Peter’s eyes, and she shuffled impossibly closer, just encase people would hear them.

“What have you got planned?”

“A few days ago, Wanda snuck down here to see me, the guards stopped her from actually speaking to me, but she was here long enough to give me this.” Peter passed a small folded piece of parchment through the black bars, Y/N took it and began to unfold it, so she could read the contents, “She says that they’ve sent a hawk to the Vision, he’s going to oversee the trail, Wanda hopes that he might swing it in my favour.”

As Y/N listened to Peter’s explanation, her eyes scanned over the piece of parchment, that had very brief and scribbled down handwriting, informing Peter of a plan.

“Who knows this?” Y/N asked, handing the parchment back.

“Just the Iron Islanders, no one else.” Peter said seriously, stuffing the parchment, back into his pocket.

A sudden clanging made Y/N and Peter jump, and their eyes darted around as they watched nervously for any signs of the guards or people approaching.

“You need to go, if they catch you here, they will skip the trial and just hang us both.” Peter let go of Y/N’s hand and pushed her away slightly. Just before she stood to leave, Y/N grabbed Peter’s hand, and despite the dirt, she kissed the back of it.

“I promise that I won’t let anything happen to you, Peter. I’ll get you out of this.” Peter gave Y/N a small smile, before she left, scurrying back up the wall, and along the rafters, over the tops of the guards.

Y/N rolled her eyes, when she saw that the guards had fallen asleep. Once she had got to the other side of the guards and climbed down from the rafters, she grabbed her cloak that she had left before. Then by using her sense of touch alone, she felt along the wall through the pitch black, to find her way back to the large door.

She managed to get back to the dungeon door, slamming it closed, cringing at the echoing bang that it elicited. Then she ran up the spiralling stairs, trying to be careful not to lose her footing on the steep and stone stairs.

Reaching the top, Y/N was relieved to see that the laundry basket had remained at the door, and no one had grown suspicious of how it had arrived there.

Y/N looked down at her coat, that was now dirty at the bottom, covered in Gods know what, some of it, having gotten to the bottom of her white night dress, and bare ankles.

Turning her nose up at the smell, she quickly walked back down the tunnel, heading for her room.

Just as she got to the corridor where the doors to her and the Princes’ rooms sat, she stopped, her heart pounding when she heard the latch on Prince Steve’s door unlock, diving behind a corner wall, she edged herself round so she could watch what was happening.

Surprisingly, Steve had come to the door half naked, what appeared to be a bedsheet wrapped around his waist, his toned chest on full display, making Y/N feel things she had never felt before. His hair was tussled around, unlike it’s usual fixed slick back position, this hair style made his fringe hang in front of his eyes. Steve looked flushed in the face, and his lips appeared red and swollen looking.

Strangely, Steve looked down both sides of the corridor, Y/N hiding herself, when he looked her way, but she appeared undetected when he beckoned for someone within his room to come forward.

Y/N watch in both horror, and surprisingly, anger, as a thinly built, blonde woman scuttled from the dark. She was almost as naked as Steve, her dress was dishevelled and not tied up at the seams, her hair equally a mess, her skin just as flushed. The bare flesh of her back on full display as she turned around to kiss Steve on the lips harshly.

Y/N couldn’t understand the slight pit of jealousy that appeared to bubble within her lower abdomen, as she watched the two make out for a few more minutes, then Steve slapped the girl on her behind, and sent her on her way.

Controlling her breathing Y/N waited for the sound of Steve’s door to shut, followed by the heavy clunk of the lock, before she hurried back into her room. Quietly closing the door behind her, she ripped her cloak off from around her neck, throwing it into the laundry basket, that she had chucked at the side of the door.

Why was she angry, she had no reason to be. She didn’t love Steve, why should she care, whom he was bedding. As long as he wasn’t forcing her own hand, why would she care, it kept that thought out of his mind.

Y/N’s breathing was still heavy, even when she was stripping off her ruined night dress, and pulling on a fresh one, she hadn’t quite calmed down.

Only when Y/N was sat on the bed, she noticed an odd noise coming from the opposite wall.

It was persistent and regular.

Y/N tilted her head, as she stared at the wall for a few more minutes, then stood up from the bed, and reached for the door handle, that would lead to Prince James’ room. She found it unlocked, which made the air in her chest get trapped.

Had he come in whilst she had been with Peter?

Turning the handle slowly, so that there was minimal noise, the sound of cogs and spindles twisting as they attached and reattached, grinding against rusted parts, eventually leading to the door opening.

Y/N edged it open, so that only a slither of the light from her bedroom would cast through the crack.

Oh how Y/N wished she had just blown out the candle and gone to bed. She wished to scorn the images out of her mind forever, when her eyes eventually landed on the scene taking place on James’ bed.

Unlike Steve, he was completely nude, the skin of his behind glowing in the moonlight.

James was covered in a thin layer of sweat, as he panted, whilst thrusting his hips. Each thrust of his hips, would cause the headboard of his bed to crack against the wall, therefore revealing to Y/N what the noise had been.

James was groaning, however; he wasn’t the only noise that Y/N could hear. There was a higher pitched moan, that would tumble in every few seconds. Y/N watched as James reached forwards to grab at the poor girl, he was bedding’s hair, and yank her up so her back was arched.

The shade of hair that was twisted in his fingers was a deep chestnut red, almost looked like James had dried blood on the palm of his hand. Y/N couldn’t stop watching as the couple grinded and moaned around each other, it made Y/N jump ever time James would bring his hand down on the girl’s behind. The slap seemed to dance round the room, the girl’s moans getting louder every time.

Y/N realised what she was doing, she shook her head, backing out of the room, her head spinning with all the images that had just been placed in her innocent little head.

Then her mind started to twist things; it started with Y/N imagining Steve doing the same things to the woman she saw leaving his room. But then it got darker as Y/N’s head morphed onto hers, and her stomach glowed as she felt her flower tingle with excitement, the idea of Steve and James doing such dirty things to her, had her mind racing uncontrollably.

Y/N couldn’t sleep at all, it was like she had an itch that she didn’t know how to scratch, and it made her pine for touch, she didn’t know who from, or what she wanted that mystery person to do to her, but she wanted it.

She wanted it badly.

Taglist

@readermia @this-is-a-chilis-drive-thru @bbywtchh@liakrichards@nisha-misha97 @waywardwifey @xxblueslothxx @randomtails @emma-is-a-nerd @hhxppyyy @viviennebloom@in-a-constant-daydream6 @actualhobbitjenny @sexyvixen7@roleplay-multifandom @sassysaltyrat @sebastianstansqueen @cltex84 @kmuir1 @lemonadygirl @supernaturalwintersoldier @jbarness @kaithezaftig @superhero-missouri @dance-dreamer @sebbybabie

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hale-13 · 3 years

Text

Syncope

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 18 Prompt - Collapse

Peter Parker was weirdly magnetic. He was also an absolute dumpster fire of a person much to Tony’s chagrin.

Words: 1552, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner

TW: Fainting

Read on AO3 of below the line break.

Tony would be the first to say that Howard Stark was a pretty shit parent. He would also be the first to say that, when he met Peter Parker and drug him off to Germany to fight the Avengers that he could be considered to be a pretty shit mentor. He was determined not to repeat the sins of his father if it was the last thing he did which is why, after Peter turned down his spot on the team, Tony groveled to May Parker and, finally, offered the kid a real, bonafide Stark Industries internship.

Tony tried to remain professional – just some tinkering with the Spidey suit, the chance to play with some cool tech – but Peter Parker was oddly magnetic and, well, could you really blame Tony for quasi-adopting the kid? Once their weekly meetings evolved to twice a week and then into movie nights May Parker set up what she coined ‘co-parenting lunches’ and gave Tony a very firm talking to on what his behavior better look like going forward.

He resolved to never introduce her to Pepper after that conversation – he’d never survive.

That was months ago, though, and things were going pretty swimmingly if Tony said so himself. Peter was over increasingly often and had his own room in the penthouse, May had started to warm up to him more due to their bi-weekly lunch dates and Ross was – for once – off his ass.

Yeah everything was coming up Tony.

“Hey kid,” he called as the music in his workshop cut down and the doors slid open to admit Peter. “Be with you in a sec!” He was so close to finishing this segment of his repulser – it had been a right pain in the ass the whole day and he was ready to just be through with it. Peter didn’t respond but he sometimes didn’t when he could tell that Tony was super busy so he just carried on, finishing about ten minutes later with Dum-E’s… assistance… and he dropped his precision tools with a sigh and a pop of his back.

“Sorry about that buddy,” Tony called as he turned around. “You wouldn’t believe how long that’s been – what’s wrong with you?”

Peter ducked his head quickly but not fast enough to keep Tony from seeing his bright red cheeks, pale features and gigantic eye bags. He was wearing the MIT hoodie Tony had given him (definitely a comfort item whether Peter wanted to admit it or not) but also subtly trembling. Peter let out a suppressed and hoarse cough and muttered a unconvincing ‘Nothing,” that had Tony rolling his eyes.

“Yeah sure,” Tony agreed, standing from his stool and coming to stand in front of Peter, reaching out with the back of one hand to feel the kid’s sweaty and clammy forehead – Peter failing spectacularly at dodging and nearly falling off his stool in the process – and grimacing at the clear fever he could feel. “Your brains melting a little there kiddo.”

“I’m fine,” Peter insisted, his voice cracking and nasally doing nothing to assuage Tony’s concern. “Seriously I am,” Peter said after shirking under Tony’s raised eyebrow. He followed this up by sneezing violently three times and then having the gall to try and paste an innocent look on his face.

Teenagers. Gremlins the lot of them.

“You’re really doing great work making me believe you,” Tony told him pointedly. “I mean look at me – totally convinced.”

Peter deflated a little and pouted, full on sulking now. “You don’t have to rub it in,” he groused and Tony chuckled at him.

“Want to actually tell me what’s going on? Or do you plan to just suffer? That’s a Gen-Z thing right? Suffering?” Peter ignored his jabs and coughed Welty into his elbow before wiping his nose on the sleeve of his sweatshirt making Tony crinkle his nose in disgust.

“Just a cold,” Peter tried, not even trying to meet Tony’s eyes. Guilty. Oh so guilty.

“Uh huh. A cold,” Tony nodded. “And how long have you had this cold that comes with a… uh fever check FRI?” He called out to his AI, making Peter whine in protest and drop his forehead down to rest on the lab table where he was seated.

“103.1 Boss,” FRIDAY called out in her soothing lilt and Tony winced a little in sympathy.

“Thanks dear. A 103.1 degree fever apparently. Jeez kid please tell me you didn’t go to school like this,” the set in Peter’s shoulders, however, told Tony all he needed to know and he let out a put upon sigh. “So you went to school like this. Great. You’re in luck – Bruce happens to be around today to take a look at you. Come on – up!”

“Noooo,” Peter griped, not picking his head up from the table or making any effort to stand at all. “I said I’m fine! I don’t need to go to the MedBay!”

“You’re resting temperature is usually around 96.5 so, yes, your fever alone qualifies you for an all expense paid visit. Don’t make me drag you – neither one of us wants that.” Tony said firmly, poking the side of Peter’s head insistently. Peter groaned again and clumsily batted Tony’s hand away before going to stand up. Halfway to his feet Peter’s eyes rolled back into his head and he dropped like a lead weight, Tony only barely able to catch him before he knocked his head on the side of the table.

“Should have expected this,” Tony grouched, lowering Peter carefully to the floor to rest with his head on Tony’s thigh. It wasn’t the first time the kid had fainted on him and Tony was regretful to say that he was old hat at it now. Tony cared about the kid but, Lordy, if Peter wasn’t an absolute magnet for danger and problems. “FRI?”

“Dr. Banner has been notified. He says to bring Peter up when he regains consciousness,” FRIDAY relayed and Tony nodded, expecting as much.

“Alrighty then. Time to wake up Pete, this isn’t a good look. You don’t want me to have to call May at work do you?” Tony threatened without heat, he would be texting May an update later but there was no need to pull her from work, rubbing the ridges of his fist against Peter’s sternum to stimulate a response.

“Ugh,” Peter groaned, pinching his eyes shut further and flinching away from Tony’s hand. “Stop,” he grunted, turning his face into Tony’s stomach to block out the light.

“No can do kid,” Tony told him, tapping the side of Peter’s face with a couple fingers to keep him awake and alert. “You just took a lovely little nose dive so no sleeping until Brucie looks at you comprende?”

“I passed out?” Peter asked, confused but cracking his eyes open to slits and looking more irritated than anything.

“Oh magnificently,” Tony confirmed, slipping an arm under Peter’s shoulders and lifting him up to sit, leaning, against the leg of the desk. “You feel dizzy or anything? Gonna faint again if you stand?”

“I’m good,” Peter said, swaying for a moment before listing into Tony’s side. It didn’t inspire much confidence.

“Sure you can,” Tony sarcastically mumbled with an eye roll before slipping one arm under Peter’s knees and the other under his back, lifting him into his arms with a grunt. Peter groaned out his displeasure but made no effort to try to escape, solidifying Tony’s decision to just carry him upstairs.

Bruce, to his credit, didn’t seem too surprised by this turn of events and was well aware that Peter was a little human disaster with no self-preservation instincts at all and was quick to get Peter situated on the exam bed much to the kid’s obvious displeasure. “How long have you felt sick and what are your symptoms?” Bruce asked brusquely, rolling a stool over to sit next to the bed, StarkPad perched precariously on his crossed legs.

“It’s just a cold,” Peter told him prompting yet another eye roll from Tony and a put upon sigh from Bruce. Peter rolled his shoulders inward and crossed his arms over his chest in submission. “Since yesterday,” he admitted.

“Symptoms?” Bruce prompted, typing something onto the screen of the tablet.

“Coughing and sneezing for sure and I’m assuming a headache as well. Obviously the fever and the fainting. Am I missing anything Pete?” Tony asked, answering for the kid when it was clear Peter wasn’t going to himself without them literally pulling teeth.

“That about covers it,” Peter said, staring into the corner with his arms still crossed over his chest.

Bruce nodded like it was all to be expected. “Probably some sort of virus then,” he said. “Not a cold but we’ll do the normal battery of bloodwork and cultures to be sure. I’ll send a nurse in to get everything in a few minutes.”

And with that the man bustled out of the room, leaving Tony to perch on the abandoned stool next to Peter’s bed. “Can we just agree to have you tell me the next time you’re sick instead of passing out on me?”

Peter just groaned and tried to smother himself with one of the pillows while Tony laughed – at least he wasn’t stabbed again.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump18 #Prompt: Collapse #irondad #spider man

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imagine-nation20 · 4 years

Text

Mutants, and Magic, and Stones, Oh My

Summary: After the fighting stops, and everyone returns to the mansion to get back to their semi-normal lives, they meet an unexpected guest.

Requested: No? But also yes, by an anon

Request:Wild card! write whatever you hell you want to read! (or don't, if you don't feel like it)

Pairing: Sean Cassidy X Reader (Sort of. Its hinted at)

A/N: I’ve had this idea in my head for a very long time, but I haven’t seen to First Class movie since… like it came out? So excuse my weird lack of information. This was just a fun idea that I felt like writing, and thank you to the anon for giving me the means to do so! Also, reader is hinted more towards being female, so sorry.

~~~

Stephen Strange stared at you from across his desk. “I’m not angry,” He started.

You groaned in response, “Please don’t do that, ‘I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed’ speech, okay? I get it, I screwed up-”

“By almost destroying the New York Sanctum,” He grumbled back.

“But I didn’t,” You insisted, crossing your arms in a huff.

“(Y/N),” He tilted his head, hands clasping in front of him on the desk. “You’re a smart kid, but I took you on as my personal apprentice under the assumption that you would set an example.”

You threw your hands up, “I have, Doctor Strange,” you insisted, “I’m the best in the entire sanctum, maybe even every sanctum! I never lose a sparring match, I practise every spell given to me until I’ve perfected it, and yet, I make one little mistake, and suddenly I’m a disappointment?”

“I never said-”

“What do I have to do to prove to you I’m taking this seriously?” You asked, eyes wide in an earnest plea.

Stephen pinched the bridge of his nose, and you could have sworn you saw three new grey hairs sprout from his head. He was silent, staring down at his hands, which were now rested flat on his desk. His eyes trailed to you.

He had taken you in as his apprentice on a whim. A car crash, which should have been fatal, instead left you paralyzed from the waist down. He had come to you in the hospital, clad in strange robes and a bright red cape, talking of magic and giving you back you ability to walk. You had thought he was crazy, if not for the demonstration he gave in the middle of your scramble to call a nurse or doctor.

You had accepted without any further fight. If you could get your freedom back, you would take it. So, you studied. Harder than any other apprentice. You weren’t going to take this miracle opportunity for granted. If Stephen told you to jump from a cliff, you would, with the faith that he knew what he was doing, and it would better your training.

So when he pulled the Eye of Agamotto from his neck, you tried not to let your jaw drop to the floor.

“There are disturbances, I can feel it through the eye,” He mumbled. “Something, or someone, is messing with the timeline.”

“And?”

He took a deep breath, sliding the eye across the desk to you, “And I want you to go back and fix it.”

“You-” You stuttered. “You want me to use the eye to go back and stop someone from messing up the past?”

“Yes,” He shrugged. “I would do it, but I have to look after the Sanctum, make sure we can recover from this recent setback,’ He leveled you with a look.

“Are you sure you want me to do it?” You asked, reaching out hesitantly.

“Weren’t you the one just grovelling for forgiveness?” He quirked a brow.

With that, you snatched up the eye, pulling it over your head and letting hang from your neck. The old, brassy metal and glowing green of the amulet contrasted with the white and grey of your robes.

“Take the staff with you,” Was his last fleeting comment, waving you from the room. “When you are ready, come find me in the training arena.”

You walked away, moving to prepare. Your robes, you switched out for more moveable, mission-like clothes. Black pants, tucked tight into brown, wrapped boot. Next came the long sleeved, brown undershirt, which had arm guards wrapped over top, then a darker, short sleeve top. A cloth, which looked like a long strip of bright red material with a hole dead center for her head. You slipped it over, each part hanging down past your knees. A thick, black belt held it all together, with a paler, brown cloth wrapped over top to hide a dagger sheath.

It was a lot of layers, and took you awhile to get on. The final touches consisted of the eye, which was tucked under the red cloth, and the brown straps to hold your staff. At your waist hung a small spellbook.

Stephen was meditating when you showed up.

“Good, you grabbed the book,” He never opened his eyes. “You will need it, seeing as you wont have access to the Sanctums where you are going.”

“Which was going to be my first question,” You said. “Where am I going?”

“1962, New York,” He said. “What do you know about mutants?”

~~~

“Come on, Alex,” Sean smirked.

The blonde shook his head, “I am not helping you push Hank off the roof as payback,” Alex pushed the redhead away.

“But he deserves a taste of his own medicine,” Sean was adamant that this was fair play, despite the slight flaw to his plan.

“Hank doesn’t have the ability to fly, Cassidy,” Alex stood from his spot on the couch, moving towards the exit to the sitting room.

“So? I couldn’t fly when he pushed me,” Sean snarked.

They walked through the almost empty halls of the mansion. Despite Charles’ claims that they would soon have students wandering the halls, it was still quiet even weeks after the incident on the beach. Charles hadn’t quite recovered yet, and those who still remained in the mansion were hesitant in thinking he ever really would.

From down the hallway, Hank turned the corner, Charles beside him in his wheelchair. Sean was about to open his mouth to snark at the tall brunette in a lab coat, when a commotion outside hit his ears. A glance out the window from the four pairs of eyes left them all speechless.

In the gravel of the driveway, to the right of the fountain, was carved out by a large crater. It looked like a meteor had hit, despite no previous signs, and no fire. From within the crater, a green glow spread out.

The four glanced at each other.

“Uh, Professor…” Alex whispered.

“I don’t know,” Was Charles' answer to the unasked question. “Let us find out, shall we?”

Outside, there was no scent of smoke or fire. Instead, a metallic tang on electricity hung in the air, the tingle setting everyone’s arm hairs on end. The light from within the crater faded.

A hand appeared, grasped onto the ledge of the crater. Their palms were caked in dirt, but the back of their hand was surprisingly clean.

From within the crater, you grunted, cursing out Stephen in whatever language came to mind--even the more ancient ones. With great effort, and the use of already sore muscles, you pulled yourself from the hole your impact into the year made.

Upon rising from with depths, you locked eyes witha group of very shocked men. You must’ve looked crazy, with your old-looking robes and metal-tippedstaff. The glowing green necklace probably didn’t help.

“Hi,” You said awkwardly, “One of you wouldn’t happen to be Charles Xavier, would you?”

One of the older members of the group, who was in a metallic wheelchair, raised a hesitant hand. You smiled, sighing.

“Great, that makes my job way easier,” You joked. “I’ll be quick, but I’m from the future, someone from my time is trying to change this past, and I’m here to stop it.”

The redhead, standing stock still in the front, choked out an odd noise. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, as he collapsed.

“...oops,” You shrugged.

When Sean Cassidy came too, he could’ve sworn he had died and gone to heaven. You hovered over him, a pale yellow light emitting from the sigils you created over him. You smiled, hesitant and almost guilty.

“Sorry about all that,” You said. “Didn’t realize how shocking it would be if I just unloaded all of that.”

You were in one of the many sitting rooms, Sean sprawled out on the ugly, floral print couch. His head hurt, but the pain was quickly subsiding with every pulse of light from the sigils.

“What…” He trailed off.

You followed his eyes, seeing the confusion, “Oh, I guess I explain to the others, but not to you. I’m a… magician, of sorts. These are healing spells, I hoped they would help.”

“Magic,” Sean whispered, eyes wide.

You nodded.

“Are you a mutant?” He asked.

With a laugh, you shook your head, “No, I was human, up until about a year ago,” You explained.

The symbols disappeared, a smile stretching onto your face, you mumbled an ‘all better’, before helping him sit up.

“I feel bad that I made you pass out though,” You said.

“It’s fine,” Sean smiled. “At least I have a good nurse.”

Alex came strolling in at that moment, the calm mood rupturing with his loud steps. His blonde hair, which had previously been combed and well kept, was now sticking up in odd places.

“Professor wants to speak with you,” Alex said to you.

You nodded, shooting one last smile to Sean, before getting up to leave. As you rounded the corner out of the room, Sean spoke up.

“Am I hallucinating?” He asked his friend.

Alex chuckled, patting him on the back harshly, “No,” He sent him a sly look. “You really did pass out in front of the pretty girl from the future.”

“God dammit.”

#xmen first class #xmen imagine #xmen oneshot #sean cassidy #sean cassidy x reader #sean cassidy imagine #sean cassidy oneshot

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ratchedspeach · 4 years

Note

ANGST 9 & 46 WITH WHOEVER YOU FEEL LIKE WRITING FOR 🥺 hope you’re doing okay, i love u💗

“Did it mean anything to you? Did I mean anything to you?”, and “I can’t keep playing pretend.” A little Mildred/Edmund angst for your TL, some much needed relationship development, and a little of Huck being a puppy dog. Set directly following S1E6. TW// for very light mentions of child abuse.

Night Light

“Get him out of here.”

Mildred turned before she could watch him be whisked away. There, clad in a leather straight jacket and muzzle, he looked more like a caged animal than a man. Not just any man, Mildred thought, her brother. The little boy who had come to her rescue all those years ago - the man who she had sworn an oath to protect. One and the same, and yet ... Mildred shook her head, swallowing hard against the tears prickling her lash-line. She honed in on the sound of her heels clicking against the pavement, on the way her breath hitched in her throat and pressed out through her lips. Under the guise of her nurse’s cloak, she could fold her arms across herself and pinch the skin near her elbow, and will Edmund’s shrill cries out of her head.

“Nurse Ratched! Mildred? Millie!”

Mildred slammed the door to the hospital behind her, pressing her back against it and shutting her eyes. Lucia State had an eery stillness to it at night. With patients confined to their rooms and most of the nurses and doctors on duty convening in the break room, she stood alone in the grandiose lobby. Mildred’s eyes flickered from the marble floors, to the blue trim of the curtains, to the windows just beyond which swallowed an entire wall. It looked more like a hotel than a hospital, Mildred thought, or like the last house her and Edmund had stayed in. It was too grand, too inviting a place for the horror she knew took place here -- the horror she herself was victim and proprietor of. It was then that Mildred realized, with a great deal of horror, that the past which she had worked so desperately tried to leave behind had found her, here, in the overbearing warmth of Lucia State Hospital. She could never be free, not really, for this hurt was the only life she knew. Something surged in Mildred’s belly -- warm, and heavy, and carrying with it the weight of remembering. No, she could never be free, and what’s more, she was still seeking exactly what it was she was running away from. So long as she felt tethered to Edmund, this hurt would remain.

“So they found him?” A voice, gentle and steadfast, pulled Mildred out of herself.

She shuttering a gasp while Huck was still out of earshot. “They are taking him to the cellars.”

Huck nodded, the puckered skin near his jawline twisting unnaturally at the disturbance, and yet a gentle smile graced his lips. Mildred envied him for his tranquility.

“And Dolly?” A beat. Mildred shook her head. Huck’s smile fell. “God. What a mess.”

Mildred could do little more but murmur her agreement before excusing herself and brushing past him. Huck took her wrist as she did, fixing her with a placid gaze and a knowing grimace. “Mildred,” he said, “I know that something is eating at you. I don’t know what, but I know it is no accident that you ended up here, and ... well ... what I’m trying to say is ...” Huck sucked in a deep breath, “should you need someone to talk to, I’m happy to listen.”

“Thank you, Huck.” Mildred smiled in spite of herself, small and perhaps a bit dishonest, but still warm in its feeble attempt.

Huck nodded, giving her wrist one more gentle squeeze before releasing her. Mildred, in her turn, did not move - not right away, at least. She held his gaze, as if to steal some of the tranquility there. In many ways, he reminded Mildred of Edmund. A younger, antiquated version of him; one which did not hold the vitriol of the man her brother had become. It dawned on Mildred what she must do.

“Would you ...” A false start. “There is something I need to do. Would you consider -”

“Name it.”

And so Mildred did.

The hallway to Edmund’s cell stretched before her like a funeral procession. It felt somehow longer to Mildred, though she had walked this same corridor countless times before. A leak from one of the pipes dripped a vicious taunt at her: your fault, your fault, your fault, it seemed to say. Huck stole glances at the woman, eyes flicking to and fro as though he were tracking a fly. He daren’t stare at Mildred, for he knew it would be met only with defense, and perhaps even offense.

“I’ll wait here for you.” He said instead when they reached the last security check. Mildred smiled her thanks.

Edmund sat where he always did - on the floor near his bed, trailing a finger through the rust colored dirt and debris on the ground. He did not look at her when she approached, but Mildred knew that he could sense her, as she would have were the roles reversed. They were conjoined in some way, sewn together by the string of experience. He was part of her, like an extension of her thumb, or the heel of her foot.

“That was quite a performance you put on out there.” Edmund drawled, finger still scraping the ground.

Mildred straightened a little, shifting as she clasped her hands in front of her. She fixed him with a glare, boring it into the back of his skull, but she did not speak. She would not treat him like a child, petulant as he may be. She would not be roped into this charade any longer.

“You even had me going for a minute there.” Edmund peeked over his shoulder, a smile simpering his features.

He was bating her, and she knew it.

“I suppose I should thank you, really. If it weren’t for you, I never woulda gotten out of here in the first place. You’re a miracle worker, Millie, an angel of -”

“Don’t you dare.” Mildred seethed when she could no longer resist his pinches. “Look at me.”

He didn’t not at first.

“Edmund. I said look at me.”

With a snort, Edmund shifted on the ground. He turned to look at her, sitting with his legs crossed and his hands on either knee. “Alright. I’m looking at ya. Now what?”

Mildred’s mouth gaped, pursing for a moment before she pressed them into a thin line. Now what? What had she expected from coming down here? What had she hoped to gain from this meeting with him? Did she think that he would apologize? That he would grovel at her feet? That she would take him in his arms and offer them both some reprieve from a world which had been so cruel to them? Mildred couldn’t say. Her eyes flicked to where Huck still stood, leaning against the security desk with his back turned. Her chest loosened, slightly, and only for a moment. It was short lived, as comfort often was for Mildred Ratched.

“So what is it, then?” Edmund breathed, eyes glinting, “Did you want me to apologize? Is that it, Millie?”

It snapped something in her. Mildred’s dark eyes went black and dull. Her palms squeezed tighter against one another so that her knuckles were white. Her mind began to race, and she was a little girl again - small and meager and utterly helpless, utterly taken by Edmund once more. He could swallow her whole here and now if he so chose, and she would be powerless to stop him.

“You killed a security guard.” Mildred spat the words like acid. “You endangered the wellbeing of countless patients, of the staff. You shot Gwendolyn -”

“Dolly did that.”

“Well you might as well have.” Her voice was breathy and unsupported. Mildred swallowed the lump in her throat. “We had a plan, Edmund. We had a plan, and it was foolproof; and you threw it away for what? For some girl. For some fanciful, naive imitation of love.”

“It was real.” Edmund snarled.

“It was not. It was not real, Edmund. It was ...” Mildred’s arms gripped across her waist. She knelt in front of him. Were it not for the bars that separated them, Mildred thought she might pull him onto her lap and stroke his hair. “I have spent years - years - searching for you, worrying about you, trying to save you. I have risked my life just to make sure that you were alright.”

“Awe, Millie.”

“Don’t you Millie me.”

The nickname felt like a black hole. It bore the remembrance of wooden spoons splintering across adolescent shins, of calloused hands over her stomach, of blood trickling down his face and neck and seeping into his clothing. Too cruel, the nickname felt, too seeped with history, too comfortable, too safe.

“You left me, Mildred.” Edmund smiled, full of vitriol and mirth. “You left me to take the fall for you.”

“You told me to run!”

“Yeah, well I didn’t think you would!” Edmund’s voice rose.

He pounced towards her then, sending Mildred teetering off her heels, and onto her hind, and skittering away by the palm of her hands. She could feel the thick must of the air suffocating her, could hear Huck shuffle a little, and then think better of moving closer. Mildred’s eyes stayed trained on her brother -- the boy in the cage -- the boy who had always been shackled to something or another for as long as she had known him. Only now it was different, because now it was not to her.

“Did it mean anything to you? Did I mean anything to you?” Mildred asked, and it dawned on her then that it was more rhetorical than earnest. She knew the answer, though she wished herself wrong.

Edmund didn’t respond. His fingers curled around the bars, nails eliciting a sinister scrape. He smiled again, a lowly, devious smirk that was more telling than anything he could have said.

“No.” Mildred chuckled humorlessly. “No, I see that now. I see that it is my folly. It was never about me, was it Edmund? It was always about you - about some silly fantasy you were trying to fulfill. I loved you, Edmund, and you threw me away. You lied to me.”

“I killed for you, Mildred. For you.”

His brow creased incredulously. It looked like he might try and push himself through the bars, and oh how Mildred wished it were to comfort her, to beckon her close, to fix the shattered parts of themselves, to glue them back into a whole. Even with this frivolous hope, Mildred saw the hunger behind his eyes - the dark, twisting selfishness with which he spoke.

“I can’t keep acting against my own moral compass for you. It’s too much, I don’t have it in me.” Mildred stood, brushing the dirt from her nurse’s uniform only to have it smudge streaks down the front of the canvas material. “Well no more, Edmund. I can’t keep playing pretend.”

And with that she was gone again, whisked away in a rush wind which seemed to carry her body separately from her soul. She could hear Edmund’s calls from behind her, could hear the way he slammed his fists against the bars echoing faintly somewhere in her mind, but it was too far away. It was too far, and she was too tired, and Edmund meant too much and too little all at once.

Huck pushed off the security desk as she approached, his good eye wide and searching. “Are you alright?”

Mildred’s breath dropped a little lower, a little more centered. Huck was all smooth lines and soft bends. He held none of the sharp corners which she or Edmund had.

“What was that all about?” Huck asked when she didn’t respond.

“I ...” Mildred started, but the words choked in her throat.

There was nothing she could say, really, for she knew the truth was that she was as culpable as Edmund was. Any indication towards him pointed in opposition towards her. Mildred’s breath went shallow and she swooned, eyes fluttering as her knees began to buckle. Huck caught her with strong, grounding arms. He murmured her name, held her up until she had regained strength.

“I’m fine.” Mildred brushed him off, but it was too forced, too urgent.

“Alright.” Huck said, swallowing his concern. He realized suddenly that he knew very little about the nurse, but still, he knew enough to deduce that she would not tell him anything. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

With a final glance behind her, Mildred nodded, straightening and fixing a thin line across her lips. There was nothing left for her here, she thought, nothing left to keep her in this place, or anywhere else for that matter. An orphan once more, that what she was. Orphaned from her mother, and then Edmund, and now herself. A child lost in the dark.

#nat writes #Mildred ratched #ratched #huck finnigan #edmund tolleson #angst #like a lot of angst #not much else than angst #fasten your seatbelts #cause baby I’m back

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wefoundloveunderthelight · 3 years

Photo

Marco’s Home for Lost Boys

GleefullyCaptainSwan

Read on AO3 - Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Chapter 11 (Or on FF if that’s your thing)

Tagging:

@kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda

Chapter 11: Reckoning

Killian was staring out at the ocean for what felt like hours. He had become so distracted that he hadn’t even lifted the anchor. He feared sailing out to sea in his condition.

He stepped into the bowels of his ship, looking at all the crates that Neal had him storing in his hold and his anger began to rise again. This needed to stop.

He took the photo out of his jacket and his resolve grew. He wasn’t going to let Neal get to Emma. He didn’t care if that meant everyone hated him or that he had to grovel with Graham in order to expose Gold’s secrets.

His entire life he had protected Emma and he wasn’t going to stop now just because he was ashamed of who he had become.

He ran down the plank and made the walk across the parking lot to the police station.

“I’m here to see Sheriff Graham.”

“One moment, let me see if he’s available.”

He nodded and took a seat next to the window. He hated the police station. Just sitting here made him feel like he was already guilty.

He was.

“I must say, I didn’t think you would show.” He looked up to see Graham’s smug face staring at him with apprehension.

“That makes two of us.”

“Let’s talk.” He sighed in annoyance and walked to the back of the station; Killian reluctantly followed him.

Of course, Graham would put him in one of the interrogation rooms. He knew that the man wanted to give the appearance of having the upper hand over him.

“Have a seat.” He gestured for him to sit in the chair.

“I’ll stand.”

“Of course, you will.” He says with annoyance. “So, Emma says you wanted to share some information.”

“Perhaps.”

“Either you do, or you don’t. I’m a busy man so don’t waste my time.”

Killian looked around the station. No one else was there except the man at the front desk. Raising his eyebrow, he chuckled. “Yes, things look so out of hand here.”

“Look, I’m only doing this because Emma asked me to. It’s no secret I don’t exactly like you.”

“Well, the feelings mutual then, Mate.” He plops down in the chair.

“Do you have information or not?”

“I happen to have lots of information, so really it just depends on what kind information it is you are interested in.”

“Gold. Stick to the damn information about Gold. What’s your job?”

“You are already aware that I play pirate on the Jolly Roger.”

He slams his hand on the table. “For Gold. What do you do for Gold?!”

Killian sighed. “Fine. You know, just for the record, I had no idea what he did when he hired me. I didn’t go looking for trouble.”

“Yeah, but it always finds you doesn’t it, Jones.”

“I suppose that’s a fair assessment.” He conceded.

“So, when did you realize it wasn’t on the up and up?”

“After a month I suppose. I was curious about what was in the envelopes I was gathering for Gold.”

“Cash?”

“Aye. A shit lot of it.”

“So, what was the money for?”

“At the time I wasn’t sure. I only picked up the envelopes. I didn’t ask questions. People who ask questions don’t usually show up for their next job.”

He growled, his annoyance obviously hitting his max. “Do you know anything? Because so far, you sure seem to know nothing.”

“Do you want my fucking help or…”

Suddenly the entire police station shook. They both looked at each other. “What the hell was that?”

“Sir, there was an explosion at the dock.” The man from the front desk stuck his head into the room.

Killian got up and followed Graham to the front of the station and that’s when he saw it.

Emma’s yellow bug idling next to his motorcycle.

He shoved Graham out of the way and ran toward the docks. Her car was still running with the door wide open. He looked down toward the pier. From what he could see, the spot his ship used to be sitting had been completely destroyed, fire was burning on the wreckage of what was left of her that was still floating.

He stopped thinking. His feet were numb.

“Emma.” He screamed as he pounded down the ramp to the bottom of the pier. “EMMA!”

No No No!

“Killian, isn’t that your ship?” Graham yelled from the top of the ramps to the docks.

He was looking around frantically. “Emma.” He yelled again.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw red under a large piece of wreckage on the dock.

Emma’s jacket.

His feet carried him as fast as they could run and he dropped to his knees, ripping up pieces of broken wood and throwing them behind him.

Oh God, please be alright.

He yanked the last plank from her body and cradled her into his arms, protecting her head in the base of his hands.

“Emma, please.” He begged, peppering her hair with soft kisses.

“Oh my God, is that Emma?” Graham ran up behind him, “I’ll call an ambulance.” He opened his cell phone and dialed. “What the hell happened here?”

Killian shook his head. His ship was gone, Emma was hurt. He had no idea what happened.

Why was she on the docks?

He rocked her back and forth in his arms. “Please wake up, Love. Please, I can’t do this without you.”

Her pulse was weak. Her hair was covered in soot. She had scrapes on her face and her hands. There was blood on her shirt. He had searched beneath the clothing trying to find the source. As far as he could see it was small cuts here and there. His biggest concern was the gash in the base of her skull. She must have hit her head during the blast.

If not for the destruction around them, he would have thought she was merely sleeping. She was peaceful curled around him, cradled against his chest.

He would give anything to go back to that night where she slept in his bed. He remembered her looking angelic in the hours he stayed up watching her toss in her sleep. If only he could go back and wake her with a kiss and tell her he never wanted her to leave.

“Killian, you have to let go of her.” He felt someone pulling on his arm. “Jones. They need to take her.” He looked up to see Graham staring at him. It was only then that he noticed the paramedics trying to assist Emma. “She won’t wake up.” He mumbled.

“It’s ok, we’ve got her. But we need you to let go.”

He nodded and released her to the man in uniform. He fell back against the crate and watched them put her onto the stretcher. He couldn’t feel anything. He stared blankly ahead.

Suddenly strong hands were pulling him to his feet. “Come on Jones, I’ll drive. David is going to meet us at the hospital.”

He stumbled forward and followed Graham to his cruiser, barely registering the fact that his soot covered cheeks were soaked with tears that continued to fall.

An hour later, Killian was sitting next to Emma’s bed, lazily rubbing circles on Emma’s hand. The constant beeps that annoyed him when they first arrived in the room were now serving as a sort of reassurance. She still hadn’t woken up but as long as those beeps continued, he convinced himself that she was going to be alright.

“I’m going to make some calls and see if they have found out anything about the explosion.”

Killian glanced toward Graham who stood from his chair against the wall and walked out of the room. He realized he didn’t even know the man had been in the room.

“I know you’re in there, Emma.” He whispered against her ear. “I wish I knew why you were on the pier or what happened down there. You gotta wake up and talk to me.”

He let his lips lightly graze hers, a tear sliding onto his cheek. “You have no idea what you mean to me.”

He let his forehead rest against hers. “I love you. Please wake up.”

Beep…Beep…Beep

“I came as soon as I could, what the hell happened?” David burst through the door and rushed to Emma’s other side.

Killian stood up quickly. “I don’t know. I was talking to Graham when we heard an explosion on the docks. I found her down there.” His voice was shaky.

“Yeah, that’s the story Graham told me, I was hoping you would know why the hell your ship exploded and why Emma was next to it when it did.” He eyed him for a moment. “And why were you talking to Graham anyway?”

Killian swallowed, trying to stay calm. “We have much to talk about, but right now is not the time. I can’t answer what she was doing there or what happened to my ship. I fear I have just as much information as you do.”

Beep…Beep…Beep

David looked down at Emma. “Have the doctors said anything?”

He shook his head sadly. “Nothing, just that they expect her to wake up at some point. She hit her head pretty hard. I suspect it was the railing based on where I found her.”

“I got ahold of Robin and Will earlier. They should be on their way.”

“Ah thanks, I guess I haven’t been in the right frame of mind.”

“It’s understandable, I’m just glad you were here for Emma.”

“Aye.”

The entire room erupted in noise as Will and Robin sprang into the room.

“Where is she? Is she alright?”

There were many questions and expressions of concern and worry and yet Emma remained stoically quiet, her eyes still closed.

Beep…Beep…Beep

“You have no idea what you mean to me. I love you. Please wake up.”

Emma felt like someone was playing the drums in her ears. Each loud thump caused her head to hurt more.

Beep…Beep…Beep

She tried to remember why her head hurt.

She was talking to Neal. He was being a jerk.

That was no surprise.

She slapped him. She definitely remembered how good it felt to do that.

But then she had left Neal. She was driving somewhere.

Where was she going?

The ship. She was headed to Killian’s ship.

Why was she looking for Killian?

And then she remembered. She was on the docks. There was an Explosion. Killian’s ship exploded in front of her. She didn’t get to him in time.

She lost Killian.

She felt the tears welling inside of her and she wanted to scream in sadness. Nothing was coming out of her mouth.

Why couldn’t she scream?

She heard a groan. It was coming from her. She needed to open her eyes. She blinked; streams of light brought on intense pain. She squeezed them closed again.

“Killian.” She felt like she had eaten an entire bag of cotton balls as she tried to use her vocal cords.

Her eyes blinked slowly again, lightness flooding her.

“Emma.”

She turned her head, her eyes fluttering, trying to focus on anything in the room.

And then she saw blue. He was there. He was alive.

“Are you real?” Her voice was hoarse and deep.

“Of course, I am Love.” He held her hand in his, her fingers pressed against his mouth as he peppered kisses to her knuckles.

“But you were…” She coughed and her throat hurt.

“Shh, don’t try and talk.”

“Sh..Ship.” She groaned. “Your ship. Explosion.”

“Yes, Emma my ship exploded. I don’t know what happened. I don’t even know why you were there.”

“Neal.” She swallowed hard, hoping to coat her throat with enough saliva so that she could speak easier.

“What about Neal, Love?”

She coughed and tried to sit up, but his hands kept her against her pillow. She needed to tell him before something else happened to him.

“Emma, you can’t get up.”

“No, Neal, he did this. The crates on your ship. He told me.”

“Wait, Neal told you what? When were you with Neal?”

“He said you were going to see your brother again. I went straight to the docks; he knew you were sailing, I tried to stop you. I saw the ship explode, I thought you were on it, I thought I lost you.” She was sobbing and shaking.

“Emma, please stop.” He was hugging her tightly. “You need to relax. I’m fine. I left the ship earlier to talk to Graham.”

She lay back on her pillow and pushed the tears out of her eyes. She looked up at Killian who was a million miles away in thought. She reached out and pressed her palm to his cheek and he blinked.

“I’m so sorry, he was trying to hurt me.” He whispered. “Either way, he succeeded because he hurt you.”

“I’m ok Killian.” She smiled.

“What about next time?” His voice raised to a yell and then quickly calmed.

She gulped.

“Get some sleep. There’s something I have to do.”

Emma tried to sit up again. “Killian, no, he’s not worth it.”

He kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry Love, I’m not going to see Neal. I’m doing this your way. I need to see Graham.”

A day of Reckoning was coming.

He shoved the door to the police station open, the small bell ringing over the door. It was past midnight, but he knew Graham was working the overnight shift. There was no one at the front desk at this hour so he pushed through the small door and headed to the back offices.

Graham stepped into his line of sight. “Jones, is everything alright? Is it Emma?” He seemed less hostile than he was earlier, yet there was something off about Graham. He seemed almost reserved toward Killian. Perhaps it was his concern for Emma.

He waved him off, “She’s alright. She woke up an hour ago.”

The tension in his shoulders relaxed. “Oh, thank God. So, what are you doing here?” He asked cautiously.

Killian squared his shoulders. “I’ll help you take down the Gold Empire.” His jaw clenched. “On one condition.”

Graham shook his head. “I’m not a judge, Jones, I can’t promise that you won’t do jail time.”

“I don’t care what happens to me. And you can do whatever you want to Gold.”

“So, what’s your condition?”

“Neal Cassidy is mine.”

He laughed. “Ok Jones, maybe it’s time you and I have a real chat.”

It took hours to walk through everything with Graham. He couldn’t tell if the man was feeling vindicated for having a hunch that turned out to be correct or overwhelmed by the fact that the revelations were much worse than he imagined.

“So, what is he trading then? In the ships that move inventory every night?”

“Mostly drugs, but I’ve seen guns occasionally. Felix controls the docks. So, he keeps the inventory log.”

“How did we not catch this after all these years?”

“Well to be fair, he owns a lot of people in this town. It’s easy to cover something up when so many have their hands in it and are making money off it.”

“And Neal seems to be taking on a bigger role?”

He shrugs, “Neal has become a bigger dick if that’s what you mean, but I fear that has more to do with Emma. However, the older he gets the more Gold entrusts him with.”

“Did Emma know that Neal was involved in this the whole time?”

He paused. “That’s not my story to tell. What I will say is that Emma is a smart girl, and she knew enough to remain away from him.”

“So why didn’t you get out? Why keep working for Gold.”

“I had my reasons. None of them will matter to you. I tried to get out. The ship was part of that plan. But things did not work out the way I had hoped.”

“This have anything to do with Milah and how suddenly I don’t see the two of you meeting up at the park at 9pm anymore.”

Killian’s brow raised. “Cheeky bastard.”

“Sorry, but I am a cop, I’ve had you on my radar for a while. I stopped following you when I realized the intent of the meeting had nothing to do with business or Gold.”

“Oh, how I wish that was true.” He said sadly.

Graham seemed surprised. “Milah works for Gold?”

Killian stared at his hands resting on the table in front of him. “Yes.” He said softly.

“I always thought the two of you were thick as thieves back in high school, even when you tried to hide it. I guess you could say I was partly right.”

Bastard.

“My relationship with Milah is not part of this discussion. I will tell you however that she is with Gold in more ways than one.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Let’s just say their relationship is both professional and carnal.”

Graham’s face scrunched in disgust. “Ewww.”

Killian chuckled. “Not quite the reaction I had when I found out.”

Graham continued taking notes in his book and then paused and looked up at him. “We’re going to have to bring David in on this.”

Killian tensed. “I feared that would be the case.”

“I can give you til tomorrow evening to tell him yourself, but after that I’m afraid it’s going to come from me.”

“Thank you, Mate, I appreciate that.”

He looked like he was contemplating his next thought before speaking again. “Can I ask you something?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s what you’ve been doing for the last 3 hours.” He chuckled.

“Why are you coming in now?”

Killian met his eyes. He reached into his jacket pocked and found the photo he had been debating on providing and tossed it on the table.

Graham took it apprehensively and then his eyes widened.

“What the hell is this, Jones?”

“I found it on my ship. Before it went Kaboom.” He shrugged.

“And you’re just giving the damn thing to me now?”

A man walked in the room and looked between Graham and Killian before speaking. “Boss I need to speak to you.” He looked at Killian and then continued in a whisper. “In private.”

Graham walked out of the room closing the door behind him leaving Killian with his anxious thoughts of how he was going to tell David everything that was going on and the decisions he had made.

He was never going to hear the end of the lecture once he had the full story. David had the purest heart of anyone he had known and behaving in any way that was less than honorary was a huge disappointment to him.

The door opened and Graham was holding a folder in his hand. “I need you to look at something.”

Killian sat up in his chair as the folder was tossed across the table to him.

“Do you recognize this man?”

He flipped open the manila paper and stared at the photo of a mangled and bleeding man.

He turned the photo over to face right side up and his eyes went wide. “That’s Felix.”

“Well, it was Felix.” Graham corrected. “They just found him in the wreckage on the docks.”

“Would you stop fussing, I’m fine.”

“I just want to make sure you’re comfortable.” Will yanks her pillow and pushes it around her back.

“I can still smack the shit out of you! Stop doing that!” She reaches out and smacks his arm away from her bed sheets.

“Bloody hell. That hurt!”

“Will, would you just go out on your date with Belle, please?”

“Oh, I’m gonna cancel with Belle. I want to make sure you are taken care of now that you’re home.”

“That’s not going to happen unless you leave.” She groaned loudly as he continued to fuss back and forth in her room.

“I swear if the two of you don’t stop fighting, I’m going to ground you both.”

They both look up to see David leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed and a look of amusement on his face.

“Please tell him I don’t need a babysitter. I’m fine.”

David laughed. “Will, it’s good. Go. I’m not leaving for a few hours and Killian just got home.”

Emma felt a flutter in her heart at the mention that Killian was there. She hadn’t seen him since he left the hospital last night. He did not return when she was released from the hospital either. She needed to know what happened with Graham.

If she was being honest, she just needed to see his face. She longed to feel his touch again. She was so relieved to know he was alive. That she hadn’t lost him.

“See, I have enough babysitters. Go on your date. You waited 21 years for Belle, please don’t waste another day.”

He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Fine, but you’re a right pain in the arse, you know, that right?”

She winked at him. “Only for you dear.”

“You alright, Emma? Need anything?”

“I’m good David, I’m just need some rest.”

“Take all the time you need.” David switched off her light and pulled the door partially closed behind him.

Emma woke with a start in a darkened room, voices being raised somewhere in the house.

She sat up, wincing at the stabbing pain she felt from head to toe.

“What in the hell were you thinking?”

“Not everyone can be you, mate!”

Emma grasped the door and used the structure to keep her standing upright then took a small step into the hallway.

“All these years you’ve been lying to us!”

“I’m trying to make things right.”

“It’s a little late for that don’t you think?”

Emma followed the sound of the raised voices and turned the corner to see David and Killian locked in a shouting match in the living room.

“I get it, you’re disappointed, but I’m trying to do the right thing here.” Killian yelled.

“You almost got Emma killed!” Killian flinched and David took a step toward him. “This is your fault.”

“Stop shouting at each other.”

Both men’s eyes snapped toward her. David moved quickly to her side.

“Emma why are you out of bed. Sit down.” He grabbed her by the arm and Emma yanked it away from him.

“I can take care of my damn self.” She looked up to see Killian masking a slight grin.

David sighed. “Let me get you back to bed. Killian and I were just talking about something.”

“It sounded more to me like you were blaming him for my being hurt, and that is really unfair of you David.”

“Emma, you don’t understand what is going on here.”

“If you’re talking about Gold, I already know.”

David’s mouth parted and he looked between her and Killian.

“Emma.” Killian finally spoke.

“No, you will not protect me either.” She turned back to David. “He’s trying to do the right thing, David.”

“How could you know about this and not tell me?” He argued.

“It was not my secret to tell, David.”

“This is different.” He scowled.

“Marco always told us that it didn’t matter what wrong we had done in our past as long as we allowed the future to lead us to the right path.”

David’s head dropped. “Emma, this is serious. What he’s doing with Gold could have gotten you killed.”

“Neal caused this. Not Killian. Neal. I was the one involved with Neal. That’s on me.” She yelled.

“His ship exploded!” He shouted.

“And thank God he wasn’t on it. Did you think about that? Did you think about the fact that maybe Killian could be dead right now? Because I do. I watched that ship explode in front of my eyes and I thought he was on it. So, I think I’ll take a few scratches over the alternative.”

Her eyes met Killian’s across the room, and he lowered his head sadly, his eyes glossed over.

“So, what the hell do you want me to do now?” David sighed. “All is just forgiven?”

“No, I get that you are upset and I’m not telling you that we just let it go. But right now, we need to help Killian make this right. Because ridding this town of Gold isn’t going to be easy. Hell, just a few months ago you thought all this was a conspiracy that Graham made up in his head. It’s been going down right in front of your face for years, David.”

“And that makes it ok, because I didn’t see it?”

“No, but we’re family. And that means we stand by each other.”

“Thank you, Swan.” Killian said weakly. “David, I want to fix this. Things are getting out of hand.”

David laughed. “You’re telling me!”

“People are getting hurt, killed. They found one of Gold’s men on the pier when they were cleaning up the wreckage. Things are escalating, David.”

David hung his head and sighed loudly. “Ok. Let’s just deal with the problem at hand first, then we will all sit down, as a family, and work through this.”

“That’s all I’m asking for, Mate.”

There was a loud knock on the door and David and Killian exchanged glances.

David walked to the door with his hand on his hip, cautiously touching the pistol that was attached there.

He opened the door slightly before standing down. “Hey Graham, what’s going on?”

Graham stepped into the house with a serious look on his face.

“I fear I’m not here for a social visit.” He frowned and then stepped toward Killian.

“What’s happened?” Killian asked.

“Jones, I’m afraid I need to take you in to the station, I have an arrest warrant.”

Emma stepped forward between the two men. “What the hell for?”

“Emma please, we can talk about this at the station.” Graham pulled his handcuffs off his belt as Emma stared in horror.

“Mate, can you at least tell me what I’m being arrested for?”

“Killian Jones, you are under arrest for the murder of Felix Hernandez.”

Notes:

Not sure how many chapters are left. I had originally planned to go to 15 but I just wrote what I thought was going to be Chapter 13 and only used the first 3 notes from my plan so this might go a bit past 15 but not too many past :) Thanks again for sticking around.

#Marco's home for lost boys #stacy's fics #my fic #emma x killian #killian jones #emma x hook #emma swan #captainswan #captain swan #captain swan au #captain swan fics #captain swan modern au

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