#now i shall crawl back in ff

[wenamedthedogkylo]

At long last. After over a week of rewatching and cross-referencing, here’s the wholly unnecessary massive meta post where I red-string a bunch of shit together.

At the end of the absolute fever dream that was Ep 13, I spewed out some stream-of-conscious, barely-coherent meta thoughts that some people seemed to like a little. First, thank you, glad you saw any kind of value in my frantic ramblings. Second, as I was thinking over everything that had happened and kept remembering more and more details to link things together, I realized… I should probably double check some of what I was remembering. We’re now only 14 episodes into C3, but it’s been long enough since I’d seen some of those earlier eps that I was definitely questioning if I was remembering things correctly.

So here I am—now armed with a whole Google doc of notes, quotes, etc.—to try and make those original thoughts a little more coherent and sensible. Again, this is less of a “theory”-theory, and more just me going

So let’s dive in, shall we? Spoilers ahead for pretty much all of C3 so far, so beware of that if you’re not caught up.

First, the brief glossary of shorthand I’m using, just in case you get confused.

Next, what’s the “not really a theory”-theory? That everything from Dugger to the Fucked Up Shade Creepers to the brumestone is connected to Armand Treshi.

But how and why? They never found out where the brumestone went, or how Dugger got the way he did, or what was up with the FUSCs. That’s what you’re probably thinking, right? That those are still loose ends to be tied up? I would argue that they’re not nearly as loose as you might think.

The linchpin of this theory is that two-timing goopy bitch Emoth Kade. She came to The Ball literally on the arm of Armand Treshi, and Eshteross confirmed that her Mahaan house had ties to House Treshi. Now what’s a gal who turns into a pale, black-eyed, goop-sweating, wall-crawling, acid spitting monster that can talk to FUSCs, doing hanging out with Armand Treshi? Or better yet, flip that question: why’s Armand connected to someone like that?

Well, because he basically made her like that, of course.

1. THE GOOP PATROL

Let’s talk about Dugger for a second. Remember that nasty little goop man? The pale dwarf with the jet black eyes who literally sweated out that gross clear-ish sticky stuff? Who turned all wormy to crawl through the tunnels in the spires? Who literally birthed a FUSC out of his back in a moment that still makes me gag to remember it?

I think a lot of us thought of him immediately when Matt described how Emoth looked at the end of Ep 13. And then it was confirmed in Ep 14: Emoth and Dugger were the same kind of fucked up. There were some differences, of course. Emoth could clearly control when she looked like a fungus demon, while Dugger couldn’t or maybe chose not to. When cornered, Dugger literally spat an AoE cone of that goop stuff that dealt Poison damage; Emoth spat out a straight line of goop that also did Poison. But they’re definitely the same kind of squishy goop person. Hell, Emoth even went and slimy-ed her way into a baseboard hole in the wall, like. Need I say more?

Well, I’m gonna. Because Emoth Kade and Dugger started out as utterly different people. Emoth belongs to a frickin’ Mahaan house ffs. It might be a lower-tier one, but it’s still a Mahaan house, and one that has ties to House Treshi. Dugger? A nobody. A former carpenter who shut down his business and ran with the Hubatt Corsairs for a while. They come from totally different worlds; how the hell did they end up with the same condition?

(I’m also, just this second as I’m writing this, realizing that both Emoth and Dugger had ties to the Corsairs. Dugger literally was a member for a time, while Cyrus said Emoth had worked with them in the past and that’s how she roped him into being her big himbo distraction. Shit, bro, I’m pretty sure Armand has more influence inside the Corsairs than maybe they realize… The Gang definitely needs to talk to Yash about Emoth and let him know that she was a goop person, too. They need to start checking their ranks for double agents.)

Yash Mangal with the Corsairs told the Gang that six months prior, Dugger vanished for several weeks. They thought maybe he was arrested and/or dead. But he turned up again, and he was already way different—“sweating more, skin growing paler”, becoming more aloof over time, and refusing to answer questions.

Well, what if he was arrested by the Wardens? What if that’s how Armand got ahold of him? I’m already pretty certain that Armand and/or Vali Dertrana had a hand in breaking Cyrus out of prison. I did that other meta theory about how Armand staged the robbery of the Gold Guild’s caravan which Cyrus was blamed for, and if it wasn’t obvious before, I think e14 proved that Cyrus is really not sharp enough to break his way out of a prison solo. He had to have help, and he made it sound like he met the Corsairs after he was on the lam. So who helped him escape in the first place? Maybe even he doesn’t know, maybe he thought he got lucky. But I’m pretty sure at this point that he only got out of there because Armand wanted him out.

Which means it would be perfectly reasonable for Armand or Vali to be able to go into the Granite Hold prison and pluck out a recently-caught member of the Corsairs to turn into their newest henchperson. And even if Dugger hadn’t been arrested, we know Vali was getting “riff raff from the Steps”, poor people who “no one would miss”, and collecting them for Ira’s experiments. Who helps the poorest people of Jrusar? The Corsairs. Reasonable to think that Dugger was down in the Steps helping people out, and got bagged by Vali’s people while there.

“Well hold on now, why’re you bringing Vali and Ira into this?” Because, my darling dearest fellow Critter, how do you think Dugger and Emoth got turned into goop people?

2. EVERYONE HAIL TO THE NIGHTMARE KING

Think about what Fearne remembered from her nana’s stories. The Nightmare King was “a figure that bent and twisted nature for fun. [And] beings that exist within nature. Just didn’t care for them.” What else would you call Dugger if not “bent and twisted”? Same with Emoth. Same with the FUSCs. Imogen and Laudna tangled with normal shade creepers in Zhudanna’s house pre-stream, and Imogen said those ones “looked alive” and were “less, you know, explosive”. They are all absolutely bent and twisted versions of what they used to be.

Also, think about the way all of these beings have been described. A recurring theme pops up, particularly pale skin, creepy black eyes, and wide mouths with sharp teeth.

When the Gang finally gets a better look at Dugger in his house, they see “that weird, kind of glistening, similar oily film [that] you see on everything emerging from him, these blackened veins that curl up the side of his face… The eyes are almost completely black like the other shade creepers that you’ve seen in the previous encounter.”

At one point during that same fight, a FUSC attacked Imogen, and as it got close, she could see “... grayish fleshy arms… Its stretchy, toothed mouth with no nose features and the beady black eyes staring at [her].”

Emoth was first described as already being pale when she entered with Armand, but when Chetney got a look at her in Headmaster Alakritos’s room in the Chambers, she was described as: “Her eyes, black. … darkened veins in the side of her neck. … her arms are a little bit longer, and that sweat is dripping off in a thicker, mucus-y pattern.” The others of the Gang who fought her later saw her “latched to the ceiling, in her dark gray, silver dress, pale sweaty skin, … head turned down, black eyes and extended jaw just dripping liquid saliva from it, the sharp teeth exposed…”

Pale skin, black eyes, no nose, wide stretchy mouth with lots of teeth, unnaturally long limbs? Kinda fuckin’ sounds like Ira Wendagoth to me. And it makes sense that when the Nightmare King twists creatures into horrible versions of themselves, they would each end up sharing some of his features. And let’s not forget that Ira has shown us his prowess with transmutation magic—he turned FCG into a frickin’ turtle without batting a big dark creepy eye.

I think it’s also pretty clear that Ira’s experiments were responsible for the Spitting Mimic that was killing people at the DST. Even without going really meta, we know the Mimic started eating people right around the same time that the Treshi’s Stone Mason’s Guild did “repairs” in that alley. The Mimic shares both Dugger and Emoth’s predilection to spit some kind of nasty damage at enemies. Dugger spat a cone of Poison, the Mimic spat a glob of Acid, and Emoth spat a line of Poison.

But if you go into the Spitting Mimic’s original stat block in Icewind Dale: Rime of the Frostmaiden, it explicitly states, “The variant presented here is a particularly large and voracious specimen—the result of Netherese experiments on ordinary mimics—that spits acid.” Even in regular D&D lore, normal Mimics aren’t like that; they can only be created. It makes perfect sense that within Exandria, the same would hold true, and Matt adapted it to be the result of Ira’s experiments under Armand’s employ. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if that metal half-sphere thing that Imogen pulled out of the Mimic’s body was part of how Ira mutated it, as well as being what tied it to that particular location.

Lastly, it should be noted that Ira, Emoth, and the FUSCs all dealt Piercing + Necrotic damage with their claw attacks. That seems a little too coincidental to me. Dugger probably would have, too, if he hadn’t chosen to fight with actual weapons. Or perhaps his goop-person abilities were different enough from Emoth that he couldn’t form claws to fight with. Thankfully, we’ll never know.

“Okay, that makes some sense. But where’s the brumestone that Dugger was smuggling? That hasn’t turned up yet.” Oh, but it has, my friends. It definitely has.

3. I’M BLUE DA BA DEE DA BA DIE

Day one of C3, the Gang comes together to protect innocent people from murderous moving furniture. We all remember, it was iconic. But let’s rehash real quick, yeah? It was a nice evening, peaceful, everyone was minding their own business. Suddenly everyone heard (and Imogen felt) an “odd, low, bassy rumble”. Right then, Laudna saw a “dull blue flash” off the side of the street ahead. A “small arcane sphere” flashed inside a cart pulled by two sillgoats, who reared up and ran away. The cart detached, scattering boxes which broke open to dump utensils and furniture in the street. That furniture came to life, and thus our beloved party banded together for the first time to defeat it.

Ahh, good times. Things were simpler then.

Hop-skip-and-a-jump ahead to the fight against Ira under the Moon Tower. At the end of Ep 10 when the Gang walked in on him working, Ira held “a blue gem about the size of someone’s clenched fist” up and over his shoulder. At the beginning of Ep 11, Chetney noted that Ira had put the gem down on the table behind him, which was described as a “fist-sized piece of blue crystal that’s giving off a faint blue glow.” And when their conversation came to an end, Ira picked the gem up once more and threw it on the ground, where it exploded in “a wave of arcane energy”. For everyone in the Gang except Chetney, that “burst of bluish-purple arcane energy” was familiar. A moment later, the tables and chairs nearest the explosion came to life.

“Yeah yeah, we know, Ira was behind the moving furniture. What does that have to do with bru–”

Blue. Stones. That. Make. Things. Move.

I’m tellin’ ya, that’s brumestone, baby!

We first hear of brumestone in Matt’s description as Orym, Fearne, and Dorian were arriving in Jrusar by skyship. They watched as “two prominent, blue, rounded stones about 10 to 12 feet in diameter that are affixed to the front of the ship—referred to as brumestone, which has a natural arcane ability to remain aloft in spite of gravity and that maintains a skyship’s movement—begin to glow brighter.”

At PT, the Gang found that odd crumbly, gravel-like residue in the pilfered crates. FCG used their Identifeye on the dust, and saw that it was “a somewhat vibrant sky-blue color almost, like a light cerulean. It’s a dull piece of brumestone.” Matt further explained brumestone’s rarity; how it’s heavily controlled by the Alsfarin Union in Ank’Harel; that it’s only known sources are the ruins of floating cities from the Age of Arcanum; and that “they are the blue stones that are embedded in skyships to keep them aloft.”

Drawing from sources like the original Tal’Dorei Campaign Setting and Campaign 2, the CR wiki explains that brumestone itself is not magical, but is particularly receptive to magic that will make it levitate. By embedding it in skyships, the enchanted brumestone is therefore able to make that otherwise inanimate object float as well.

So we’ve got a glowing blue rock that can be enchanted to make inanimate objects (like skyships and cities) float. And we have a glowing blue rock that can be enchanted to make inanimate objects (like tables, rugs, brooms, etc) move on their own.

Can I make it any more obvious?

Armand hired Ira to help him sow chaos in Jrusar. To do this, Ira needed supplies. Among those supplies is a very rare and notoriously hard-to-get mineral that is, according to Yash Mangal, very valuable on the black market. It’s a very tightly controlled element, and the Corsair spokesman said that there are probably a lot of arcanists and engineers seeking it out.

But this is Armand Treshi of House Treshi we’re talking about. He’s absolutely got the money and connections to get his hands on some illegal brumestone. (Especially once he stages a robbery of his own guild and squirrels that money away from the official books; see above theory about Cyrus and the robbery.) All he needs is ready hands to do the smuggling. Another trade: Armand, through Vali, provides Ira with test subjects for his experiments, and Ira twists them into willing servants who will do their dirty work.

Dugger, either picked up from the Steps or arrested and plucked out of prison, is among the first of these subjects to get goopified. He sticks around the Corsairs for a bit, probably gaining Armand & Co. some intel, and then eventually leaves them to focus on smuggling the brumestone into Jrusar. (This, I believe, is what he meant when he told Danas, “Well, I suppose we need to adjust our supply lines.” He killed her immediately after that, so he wasn’t saying “we” to include her; he was referring to himself and someone else. And since the Corsairs were certain he hadn’t gone to the Ivory Syndicate, it makes perfect sense that that someone was Armand & Co.)

The brumestone is passed on to Ira, who in turn uses his various contraptions and magic to enchant the mineral in a different way. After all, levitation magic and animation magic really are not that different. They are both used to move objects, especially those that cannot move on their own. It stands to reason that if brumestone is receptive to one kind of movement magic, it would, with a little arcane prodding, be receptive to others. And with how Ira loves twisting things to be darker and scarier, it’s no surprise that when he makes furniture move, the first thing it tries to do is kill people.

4. MY MIDDLE NAME IS ‘SECOND-SUMMARY’

Now, any reasonable person might have come to these conclusions and just moved on with their life. Given my ADHD and the ensuing memory issues, I am physically incapable of doing that. So when I say I literally rewatched damn near every second of C3 so far to make sure I wasn’t making this shit up… I mean I rewatched damn near every second. I made a Google Doc to cite specific information and quotes when needed. If anyone wants to see it, I’ll be happy to share. At this point I’m just recording anything that seems interconnected and/or important.

So I promise you I’m not pulling this stuff out of my ass. At most, I’m drawing lines and filling in gaps with reasonable conclusions. And where I’ve landed is that Ira the Nightmare King made the FUSCs, Dugger, Lady Emoth, and the Spitting Mimic for Armand Treshi, as well as used the smuggled brumestone to make animated killer furniture.

Obviously, if I end up being wrong about anything, then oh well. The surprise will be all the more amazing, because after hours of doing my best tin foil-hatter impression, Matt still managed to dupe me. Which would be exciting as fuck. But if I’m right, that doesn’t really lessen the excitement for me. Because despite all this, I still haven’t got a fucking clue where this will end up leading. Tie all of this in with the Paragon’s Call shit and the werewolves (still convinced those are linked), and all I can surmise is that Armand Treshi has much grander and more ominous designs for Jrusar than we thought.

Because as I said in my original blathering post, it’s one thing to make a little furniture move and one wall that eats people. Like, that’s still wild as fuck, but in the scale of an entire city and the surrounding lands, that’s relatively small potatoes. At best, you make people feel a little unsafe and off balance, and use the upset to maneuver your way into more power.

But the connections to Armand just keep adding up. Now we’ve got Lady Emoth, his date to one of the biggest political events of the year, being a goop person and robbing Gryz Alakritos’s guest suite? On top of everything else?? What did he have that she wanted so badly? And what in the ever-loving fuck was that shit with Emoth saying “we have business for her tonight” and “she’ll help me” and someone called “mother”? Like, I kinda joked during the stream that this might mean there’s a Queen Shade Creeper, but… bro what if there is? Ira what the fuck did you do?

At this rate, I really wouldn’t be surprised if Imogen’s red storm dreams, the Lumas Twins’ deaths, and the shadow assassins that attacked them and Zephra were also somehow Armand’s doing. The description of how the shadow assassins just kinda vanished reminds me of Ira being all smoky and hard for Laudna to hit; is he somehow responsible for those beings as well? WHERE DO ALL THESE THREADS LEAD?

MATTHEW WHAT HORRIBLE CHAOS HAVE YOU COOKED UP FOR US, I CAN’T STAND THE WAITING ANYMORE

[hoforhaechan]

A Warm Winters Night - Lucas ff

TW: mentions of anxiety and panic attacks

Lucas x female reader, SMUT, domlucas, sex toys, overstimulation, oral sex, protected sex, sex with other people in the house but not really exhibitionism

You smiled to yourself when you pulled up outside the large log cabin that your boyfriend had booked for everyone to stay in for a few nights to celebrate the new year. "You like it babe?" he said with a little smile. You nodded. He leaned in closer to you and you shivered when you felt his warm breath near your ear as he whispered into it "the rooms are pretty big too." You giggle and he pecks you on the lips before you go in and wait for the others to arrive.

You're not the best at remembering names so you make a mental note of everyone a few times. You've known Ten and Johnny for a while because Lucas used to take you on double dates with them but you were only vaguely familiar with the rest of the members. And you definitely didn't know their girlfriend's names.

There's Kun and his girlfriend Andrea (who prefers to be called Annie) , Ten and Johnny, Xiaojun and his girlfriend Paige, Hendery and his girlfriend Hannah, Yangyang and his girlfriend Elise, and Winwin and his boyfriend Yuta. You greet all of them and after having a few drinks and talking for a while you really start to like them. Or, well, most of them.

You've all decided to play a board game and Lucas and you are winning but you can tell that a certain someone is not happy with those results. Annie starts laughing and says, "This is boring let's do body shots" and she flips the board and all the pieces onto the floor. Lucas stands up and says "What the actual fuck Annie?" Kun and you try to calm down the situation but the two of them just start screaming at each other until Annie screams, "YOU USED TO BE FUN BEFORE YOU STARTED DATING THAT SLUT" and she gave you a death stare. You were about to clap back at her but you didn't have time before Lucas left the room and you heard the front door slam. "Shit. " you said, "You better hope he's right outside or I will hurt you." You glared at her. You walked out the room and Kun followed and said "I'm really sorry, she's not usually like this she's just had too much to drink." you gave him a small smile and took your coat off the rack. You then realised that Lucas's coat was still there. He was out in the snowy woods with just a jacket on. You grabbed his coat and stepped outside into the cold.

You couldn't see him anywhere so you walked into the forest and looked around for a while. The snow was quite thick and you were getting cold so you put Lucas's coat on. You shouted his name for a while and walked around but it had started to get dark and you looked at your watch and realized you'd been looking for almost an hour. Your anxiety started rising and you were struggling to breathe. You spotted a log that was under a tree so it had barely any snow on it. You sat down and tried to get ahold of yourself. You realized you were lost and didn't know how to get back and you started crying. It started as just silent tears but after a while it was loud sobbing and screaming. You heard footsteps and shouted Lucas's name. No response. You kept crying even louder until you heard leaves crunching around you and you felt a pair of arms around you. You flinched and shrieked not being able to see in the dark. "shh baby, it's just me." it was Lucas's voice. You immediately felt safe and you let him pull you up and carry you back to the cabin as you snuggled into his chest while the tears still streamed slowly down your face.

You reached the cabin and Lucas knocked on the door with his foot and shouted, "Can someone please come open the door for us, I have my hands full?!" You heard someone approaching the doorway and heard it open and heard a gasp and Johnny said, "Omg y/n! Lucas? Is she okay? What happened?" "She just had a bit of a shock, I'm just gonna take her to our room." Lucas placed you on your bed and lit the fireplace. "I'll be back in a minute babe I just need to let the others know that you're okay" he leaned in and kissed you. You closed your eyes and snuggled into the blankets.

Lucas walked down the stairs from the room. He was thinking about how terrified he had been when all he could hear was y/n screaming and not knowing where she was. He walked into the living room and sat down in his chair. "i apologize for storming out, I just got too riled up. Y/n is okay she just had a panic attack. She suffers from chronic anxiety so I really shouldn't have left like that. It was stupid. Andrea, im sorry that I yelled at you." Andrea looked worried and teary eyed. "Lucas I'm so sorry if I hadn't been so immature this wouldn't have happened." Lucas gave her a small smile, "it's ok." Kun sighed, "alrighty everyone I think its time for bed."

You had calmed down and were ready to go back and have some more fun. You were walking down the stairs when you heard Kun saying it was bedtime. You frown. An idea pops into your head. "What are you talking about Kun, the night has only just begun. I think we should play another game. Hmm, maybe truth or dare?" Annie smiled at you apologetically and you smiled back. A few drinks later and Hannah had been dared to lick sigar off Hendery's nipples and you were all laughing and having a good time. "OK ThAts EnOuGh i NeEd tO pUt mY sHirT bAcK on!" said Hendery through chittering teeth. You all laughed. "Ok Hannah your turn to dare" said Yanyang. "Okie dokie, let's see shall we," she looked around at everyone, "y/n I dare you to kiss Xiaojun. You heard everyone laugh, Paige and Xiaojun among them, so you knew they didn't object to the dare.

You looked at Lucas and you could already see the jealous look forming on his face and you smiled to yourself. Time to have some fun. "Ok" you agreed. You crawled towards Xiaojun and pecked his lips knowing that the audience wouldn't be satisfied with that. "Seriously y/n you call that a kiss" said Yuta. You shrugged. "Come on, kiss him properly, use a little bit of tongue, its not like it means anything" said Ten and everyone laughed. Everyone except Lucas who was looking at Ten like he wanted to kill him. You giggled to yourself and sat on xiaojuns thigh and leaned in for another kiss.

You kissed again *properly* this time until Lucas said "Ok time for the next dare." You sat back down next to him and he leaned down to whisper in your ear "You're in big trouble tonight babygirl" you felt yourself get turned on just by those words. You didn't pay much attention to the rest of the game, instead daydreaming about how lucas would punish you this time. You were so lost in your thoughts until you felt lucas pick you up and you noticed that everyone was heading to their rooms.

He carried you to your room and threw you roughly but carefully onto the bed and said. "Stay there. Don't move." From the tone of Lucas's voice you could tell he wasn't angry enough for you to get what you were daydreaming about. You wanted him to tease you til you were crying and begging him to give you what you want and to fuck you so hard that you won't be able to walk. But right now all you were gonna get was a few spanks and sex a little rougher than usual. Luckily you knew how to rile him up. You had to disobey him. You started stripping off your clothes and then positioned yourself on the bed with your legs open wide and you started rubbing your clit through the thin lace of your panties. You looked up at Lucas as he walked in and you bit your lip and moaned his name. He smirked but you could tell he was furious, and now you've made it worse.

You don't think you've ever seen him this angry before. "Take off your clothes" he demanded. You took them off quickly not wanting to anger him any more. He looked at your naked body and smiled. "You okay with this babygirl? As much as I want to punish you I dont want to do anything you're not comfortable with?" You nodded. "Use your words babygirl." "I want you." Lucas smiled and then his caring side was gone.

He went over to his unpacked suitcase and pulled out a familiar black box. "Shit." you whispered to yourself, but Lucas heard and smirked. "You didn't think I would leave this at home did you. No. I know how much you love to make me mad so I knew I would need it." You were a little scared now, but excited, because you knew that everything in that box was there to rile you up and make you scream.

He first pulled out the handcuffs and cuffed your hands to the bedpost so that you were helpless. You could already feel yourself getting turned on. You loved it when Lucas was rough on you, when he showed you no mercy. You wondered if he would choose to overstimulate you and make you a crying moaning mess underneath him or if he would deny you your orgasm until you were begging and screaming.

You watched him pull a silver vibrator out of the box. He made no move to get himself undressed so you decided he had probably chosen to go with option 1, torturing you with overstimulation. He spread your legs apart and positioned his mouth near your entrance. He looked up at you through long lashes. The sight made you feel wrecked and you let out a small moan. You told him how sexy he looked but he wasn't happy with that response. "You're enjoying yourself a little too much for this to be a punishment babygirl." He didn't move before speaking and the vibrations from his words made you shiver.

He pulled away to fetch something else from the box. A fluffy black blindfold. You knew this was gonna be a long night. he put the blindfold over your eyes and now you were completely at his mercy. You couldn't see or touch so all you could do to try gain some clarity on what was happening was to listen. You heard Lucas move around for a while until you felt hot breath on your heat. You moaned quietly, worrying about the rest of the house hearing you. Lucas didn't like that so he slapped your thigh and growled "dont be quiet baby, let the whole house hear how good I make you feel. Let them know you belong to me." You moaned loudly as he licked a stripe up your pussy.

He licked and sucked at you while you squirmed underneath him, moaning uncontrollably. He held down your thighs to keep you still. But as he sucked on your clit a little too harshly you trapped his head between your thighs, crying out loudly, as you came on his face. Lucas was satisfied but took it as an opportunity to torture you more. "You little slut, you came on me without permission. You're making it hard for me to go easy on you." You moaned softly at the degradation. He entered two fingers into you without warning and you screamed out a moan. He was thrusting and curling his fingers in you, completely wrecking you.

He removed his fingers from you and put them in your mouth. You whined around them as you tasted yourself. You heard him switch on the vibrator and he held it against your clit as he ate you out again. "Lucas," you whined, "I'm gonna come." With his permission you came again and he continued to lick you till you were clean. "I don't think you've learned your lesson yet baby." He took off your blindfold and you moaned at the sight before you. Lucas's previously styled hair was messy and his eyes were dark with lust as he groaned at your facial expression. He was beautiful. He took off his shirt slowly and teasingly. You knew this trick. This was your least favorite punishment. To watch Lucas being turned on and watching him touch himself without being able to help, or to get any satisfaction of your own.

He knew how much it riled you up and he loved it. You already wanted to just hold him and run your fingers over his abs. But you couldn't. He unzipped his pants at an agonizingly slow pace and you whined. He smirked at you and pulled them down and took them off. He started palming himself through his boxers and you couldn't stand it. You wanted to be making him feel good. He finally pulled off his underwear and started stroking himself. You were crying and moaning and desperate. You wanted so badly to help him. You knew you could make him feel better. You knew because you had heard the way he moaned when it was your hand doing that to him, or your mouth. He would moan loudly and let out high pitched whines and cries.

"PLEASE," you sobbed, "please Lucas!" "What do you want baby" he groaned. "Let me help you, please. I can make it up to you. Let me help you." you begged him. He decided you had learned your lesson so he unlocked the handcuffs and you immediately wrapped your hands around his dick and started jerking him off. "fuck," he groaned, "so good."

You replaced your hands with your mouth and started sucking him off while using your hands to pump what didn't fit. "Babe," he warned, "I'm close" do you want it in your mouth or do you want me to fuck you?" You pulled off and looked at him. He let out a moan at the sight of your fucked out expression." "I want you" you said quietly. "You're gonna have to be more specific than that babygirl" you let out a whimper. "Want you inside" Lucas groaned and grabbed a condom from the box and ripped it open with his teeth. You smiled. You loved it when he did that. You whined at the expression on his face while he rolled the condom on.

He hovered over you and pecked you lightly on the lips. "I love you" you told him. "i love you baby" he responded. And at that he pushed into you and you both let out sinful noises as he filled you up. You could tell that neither of you were gonna last long as he thrusted into you. It didn't feel like a punishment anymore. It felt intimate. You could tell that Lucas was close, but you didn't worry, you knew he would make sure you came.

He started rubbing your clit as he thrusted and soon you reached your high and you threw your head back as you entered a state of ecstasy. When you had finally calmed down Lucas was finished and after a few seconds he pulled out. You lay still for a while. You got up and went to the bathroom quickly and when you got back Lucas had packed up the black box and was lying in bed with his arms open, waiting for cuddles. You smiled and happily obliged, climbing into bed and snuggling into his embrace.

The next morning you woke up with stiff muscles and aching legs. But you were happy. You pulled on some leggings and one of Lucas's hoodies. You gently shook him awake and kissed him. When you both entered the kitchen, it was occupied by Ten, Johnny and Yuta. They were all smirking and when you looked at Lucas in confusion he let out a soft chuckle and went to make you both drinks. "So y/n," said Johnny, "sounded like you slept well last night."

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Void of Extinction by GleefullyCaptainSwan Chapter 1/9

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Chapter 1: There is Nothing to Fear

Storybrooke Maine, 2052. The world is slowly dying from a plague, only known as J2, that is spreading across the realms, a disease that has no cure. A faction known as “The Rebellion” have moved underground to search for a cure while avoiding detection from “The Hive”, a dangerous group run by an unidentified man of darkness searching for power. The only thing standing in the way of either group taking power is Mayor Regina Mills, who spends her time protecting the residents of Storybrooke from criminals who might bring the plague to her small town. The most dangerous occupants, those deemed most likely to bring the plague to town, are given a new opportunity, a chance for a new life, without being a danger to society, courtesy of the Gold Collective.

The pain was tortuously blinding as he tried to open his eyes. It was a feeling of waking from an all-night bender he couldn’t even remember attending. Peering through slits, his room came into view, blue neon lit behind the monitor on his wall. “Status Report.” He spoke, a gritty tone leaving his throat.

“Good morning James, it’s 7:53 am, pollution level 63%, you have no appointments today.” The pleasant robotic voice carried throughout the room. Something felt wrong, like a small itch at the back of his brain, a light tick that was calling out to him, telling him to pay attention.

He stood from his bed, the silk sheets falling to the ground behind him as he wandered through the apartment. “Open blinds.” He spoke and the metal slats hummed as they opened fully, revealing the land in front of him, dark smoke clouds on the horizon behind the mountains. Storybrooke, the only home he had ever known. He sighed; he was going to be late. He was halfway to the bathroom before he stopped in his tracks.

What the bloody hell was he about to be late for?

“What time do I have to be at work?” he said loudly.

“You are expected at 8:30am. Shall I prepare transport?”

He groaned, “Sure, but where is my destination?”

“Granny’s Diner, Main Street, Storybrooke.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, a headache taking form at the back of his neck. “Granny’s.” He mumbled. Short memories, like a picture show, formed in his head, an older woman barking orders at him as he cooked burgers in the back of the small diner. He was a cook. He wasn’t sure why that felt odd to him, like something was out of place. He didn’t have time to contemplate the decisions he made in his life. He was going to be late for work.

The quick shower didn’t erase the feelings, images he didn’t recognize were imprinted in his subconscious every time he closed his eyes. A woman with hair, a light pale yellow, eyes green as grass staring at him. He couldn’t place the image, some celebrity perhaps he had seen in a movie. He shut off the water, running the towel through his hair as he tried to rub the sleep from his brain.

He dressed and left his apartment, sliding the locks shut with a slam, cranking the large metal door handle to the right to ensure it was locked. He glanced down the darkened hallway at the few people meandering about, the lot of which always appeared to be lurking, watching for unsuspecting individuals who left their belongings unprotected.

“You’re late.” The woman growled as soon as he entered the back of the diner.

“I’m sorry, Granny. In my defense, I forgot I had…” He thought about his sentence. What did he forget exactly? That he had a job, that he was a cook, why he had even woken up at the time he did, dreaming about a woman he had never met, “to work this early.” He finished.

“I’ve had to tell you the same thing since you started working here, it would do you some good to have your AIM set a damn alarm before you go to bed.”

Killian had alerted his AIM or Artificial Intelligence Monitorto set a 7am alarm, yet it failed to alert him to his shift for the last few weeks. He would need to have it repaired if this continued.

“Yes Ma’am, apologizes.”

“Just get to work, we got people waiting.”

James pushed through his shift, flipping burgers, cracking eggs, and sending out plates of food he had no memory of knowing how to cook. He wondered to himself how he ended up with this life, when had he decided that this was the best job he could find? Each time he tried to imagine another career, something that he might actually enjoy doing, the migraine would hit him out of nowhere, crippling him until the inhibitor was injected into his arm and his breathing returned to normal.

Whatever plagued him, this medical condition that brought him to his knees had always been with him from what he could remember. He assumed that it had begun when he was a child, it was second nature for him to know to inject himself once the pain hit. Yet he couldn’t remember when it began.

He climbed the stairs to his apartment at the end of the day, entering his room and locking it down behind him. “Set alarm for 7am.” He said once he sat his keys on the counter.

“Alarm set. 7am.”

He went about the mundane task of preparing his dinner, watching the Holo TV, news that the plague had spread to the outer banks was on every station. Mayor Mills calmed the crowd during her press conference and on each holo announcement that played every 15 mins.

“People of Storybrooke, I give you my assurance that the plague will not breach our walls. We have taken every measure possible to protect our citizens. We continue to fight back the resistance uprising, and our law enforcement continues to arrest any faction that supports it. There is nothing to fear.”

Mayor Regina Mills stood in the center of the screen, flanked by her officers on either side. She was fierce, strong, and protected the town of Storybrooke with honor.

“Turn off Holo TV.” He announced, setting his dishes in the machine for cleaning.

He crawled into bed, pulling the covers over his hips. “What time is the alarm set for?” He asked, ensuring that everything was still working.

“Alarm is set for 7am, James. Sleep well.”

~*~

Emma woke to the sound of crying. She jumped up from her spot and reached for her son, pulling him against her chest. “Hush now Henry, mommy’s got you.” Pressing her child to her breast she felt the tug against her nipple as her son quieted. She smiled down at the infant in her arms, her heart aching as she watched him so still against her, as if nothing in the world mattered but his own nourishment.

Emma wished her view of the world were as innocent. But she knew better.

She looked around the dark shack she had been hiding in for the last few weeks. She could hear the water on the other end of the door, just on the outskirts of the town line. It would be dangerous if anyone were to find her. She had given up everything to get away from Neal Cassidy. Her safety, comfort, even her future was all gone the instant she escaped the tower that had been her home for the last five years.

Emma knew it was dangerous being outside the protective walls of Storybrooke, those who had been exiled lived on the outskirts, many would not escape the plague once they lost the protections provided behind the walls. Emma knew it all too well, five years ago when the plague first appeared, she had taken ill, she was expected to die quickly, painfully. But after a month, the symptoms subsided, and Emma survived.

Doctors could not explain why she survived, only that she had been very lucky.

And then she met Neal. She thought she had finally found someone to share her life with. She was taken in by his father, Gold, a man obsessed with finding the cure to the plague.

His company, The Gold Collective had invested in experimenting on anyone who had come down with the plague, valiantly searching for a cure, the perfect gene sample that would save humanity, but his efforts had been fruitless as most of his subjects died before he had completed his experiments.

Emma found him to be odd, even a bit intimidating at times. His obsession with the plague caused her to keep her own situation quiet. She had a feeling if he had known that she had somehow lived through the plague that his interest in her might become more than just the father of the man she lived with.

Gold took care of her, as Neal’s girlfriend, he ensured that she had everything she could ever want. And Neal provided her money, food, and a roof over her head. Something she didn’t have before she had met him, back when she was homeless, trying to find her place in Storybrooke. Neal took her in and loved her.

But all of that changed a little over a year ago. Emma wasn’t snooping, she hadn’t meant to be in the office after hours, but Neal had not returned home that evening, and Emma had been worried. So, she left the penthouse suite of Gold Laboratories and headed to Neal’s office. Before she even reached his wing, she heard arguing.

The conversation between Gold and his son was chilling. She knew she needed help. She didn’t want to cause alarm or alert either of the men to the knowledge she had overheard them, had realized who the Gold Collective really was, so instead she waited out her time. A week passed before she found her mark, a police detective whom she had followed for days. He lived a quiet life, devoted to his job, going between his apartment downtown and his job at the station, never deviating from his day. He always arrived at work at 10:02am for a 10:30 shift. He had lunch with his partner at 12:45, he picked up Chinese food at 9:00pm before returning to his apartment. She had watched him assisting his elderly neighbor up the stairs and she knew this was the man she needed to trust.

Officer Killian Jones didn’t know what to make of her when she showed up at his door at midnight one night. Begging to talk to him, asking for discretion as she tried to determine if he trusted her. When he learned of the knowledge she had, he panicked. He sent her home that evening, telling her to wait a week before she reached out to him again.

It took a month, Emma would arrive at his apartment, they would talk about their plans, share intel on what they had each learned, and suddenly, knowing he was the one person she could trust, feeling like for the first time in her life, someone understood and truly cared about her, she fell for the man.

He tried to deny her, not wanting to take advantage of her trust. But they were in love. There was no denying it. The affair was something that neither one of them had the power to stop. Emma would spend her evenings with Killian, staring at the stars talking about what the future held for them once they were able to figure out a way to stop everything that was happening around them.

But she always returned to Neal, she had no choice but to keep up the ruse in order to protect the secret she had. Too many powerful people were involved for her to alert anyone else. Killian didn’t even trust his partner David enough to share the information.

Suddenly Neal became protective of her, asking her where she was going anytime she left the apartment, so Emma had to distance herself from Killian. It had been a month since they had been in contact when Emma received devastating news. She and Neal were having a baby. It broke her heart. When she finally told Killian, he urged her to escape before the child was born. Once Neal had a child, he would never let her leave.

Emma knew he was right, unfortunately by the time she planned her escape, the child was born a prematurely. She was trapped. Killian became concerned for her safety now that a child was involved, and Emma was forced to share her secret with her childhood friend, Will Scarlett. He sprang into action, becoming the go between for Emma and Killian to set their plan in motion for Emma and Henry to escape.

That night, she met Will on the roof, and they made their daring escape, 65 flights of stairs down the back of the building. They waited for hours at the drop off point, but Killian never showed. Emma was devastated, she felt trapped. Will went in search of him, he wasn’t at his apartment, the station, or any of his usual locations. Killian was gone without a trace.

She knew that something bad had happened to him. He would never abandon her. She trusted him. The only solution she could come up with was that Gold or Neal had found out about their plan.

Killian was in danger, unless something bad had already happened to him. She was desperate to find him. Without Killian Jones, the entire town was in danger.

“Are you decent?” Will’s voice rang out from the other side of the door. She pulled her shirt over her breast, setting her sleeping son beside her.

She stood up and looked through the crack in the door. Will was standing nervously on the edge of the water. She clicked the locks, lifting the wooden latch until the door slid open. Will stepped quickly into the shack.

“You ok?”

“Did you find anything?” She asked anxiously.

“Maybe.”

Emma stared at him with pleading eyes. “What do you mean maybe?”

“Look, don’t freak out, ok?”

“You’re scaring me.” She responded nervously.

“I drove by the station again, nothing. David is there but Killian wasn’t around. I didn’t want to go in, because I figure they might start asking questions, but there was this girl sitting outside and I asked who I could talk to about a case of Killian’s, and I used me ole charm and she told me that he never came back to work a few days ago, and that they opened a missing persons case on him.”

“Oh God, Will.”

“I said don’t freak out.”

“This is terrible. They killed him, didn’t they?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, I haven’t told you everything yet.” He pleaded as she paced the room. “Anyway, I went by his apartment, and it was empty. The neighbor says they haven’t seen him for days.” She started to speak, and he pressed his hand to her mouth. “Emmie, I need you to be quiet, I know that’s hard for you.”

She groaned against his finger and mumbled. “Fine.”

“I got hungry as I usually do about this time and got a craving for a big greasy burger.”

“Seriously, you wanted me to be quiet so you could talk about food? I’m losing my patience, Scarlet.”

“The burger was excellent by the way, but that’s not the point.” He paused. “I went back to my car, and there was a man out back tossing out some trash.”

“Would you get to the damn point!” She yelled.

“It was Killian.”

“What?”

“The guy out back. Spitting image of him.”

“Did you talk to him, ask him what the hell is going on?”

“I talked to him, but he acted like he’d never seen me in his life. Swears his name is James Rogers. Emmie, it was the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen. But I tried, I even called him Killian Jones and he stared straight through me…” He dropped his head. “And then he thought about it, I could see the wheels turning in his head, and then he started wincing, and that’s when I saw it.”

“Saw what?” Emma asked impatiently, dreading the fact that she could already feel it in her gut, she knew what he was going to tell her, every sensor in her brain was going off that she already knew the truth.

“An inhibitor. The man injected himself with one of Gold’s inhibitors.”

Emma felt the tears forming, she knew it was the truth. It made sense, he would never have abandoned her or Henry. The only explanation was that Gold or Neal had found out what she was planning to do and got to Killian first. “They erased him.” She said sadly, feeling every last bit of hope she had draining from her being.

“Emmie, he’s one of the void. There’s no way back from that.”

“Don’t say that, we don’t know that. It’s all experimental, it’s not even legal. Gold’s been doing it for years on test subjects. Killian can fight it; I know he can. He’s too strong.”

“Emmie, he had no idea, absolutely no idea of who I was.”

“It doesn’t matter, Will. We must keep trying. Maybe the inhibitor just suppresses his memories. We have to get him not to use it.”

“For all we know, not using it could cause his brain to explode. It’s dangerous.”

“I won’t give up on him Will. I can’t lose him.”

He pulled her into his arms, rubbing her back in slow circles as she cried. “It’s gonna be ok, we’ll figure it out.”

“What are we going to do, Will? Without Killian, I’ll never get into the station to upload the information.”

“We’ll find a way. That’s what we do right?”

She smiled weakly. She wouldn’t give up on him, he risked so much to try and protect her and another man’s child. He had given her hope when she had none. She would never stop trying to get him back. Even if it killed her, she would save Killian Jones and take down the Gold empire.

[veloxaraptor]

Finally Finished Endwalker

Thoughts are below the cut. They WILL contain spoilers.

The most I can give this expansion is an OK. It wasn’t bad, it wasn’t great, it was OK.

There were a *lot* of pacing issues. At the start, it felt like we were ZOOMING through Sharlayan and Thavnair. But the moment we get to Garlemald it screeches to a slow crawl. Then picks up again once you get back to Thavnair for the 2nd time. And once you leave there, it’s a crawl again. A lot of bits felt as though they were used to artificially lengthen the play time and gave little to no substance otherwise. (Looking at you, Loporrits.)

I felt very disconnected from the story. I feel like they waited too long to hit with the emotional punches and that there was never any REAL sense of urgency, like you might fail, or as though you’d lose your companions for good. At the last zone, when all your companions began sacrificing themselves, it felt very ho-hum. (With the exception for me of G’raha and the twins.) Because you knew, even without knowing, that they were going to come back. They set it up blatantly for it. And I felt like summoning them back BEFORE the final boss kind of cheapened things a little.

Some scenes, like the one where Zenos takes over your body, felt very pointless. What was the point of it? Nothing came of it, he didn’t do anything, you get your body back and he never tries again. It certainly FELT like they were going somewhere with it and then pulled back at the last moment. 

There were some points where there could have been a more powerful impact, but they moved on too quickly for you to really absorb it or were ruined by bits of filler. 

The end boss felt very much like a rehash of Sephiroth from FF&, complete with, “Shall I give you Dis Pear?!” And while I could very much feel sympathy and even somewhat invested in some of the civilizations they brought into play, the whole, “We achieved what we set out to achieve, so now I just want to die” was pretty bleh. 

And Zenos popping up every 5 minutes with, “Fite me bro 1v1 irl” got old fast. (Tho I have to say riding his back as Shinryu was pretty kickass.)

That all being said, there were some things I felt were wonderfully executed. 

I thought all the new zones were absolutely beautiful and well mapped out. I wanted to roll my eyes at the inclusion of Ascians, Emet-Selch, and the world Unsundered, But the way it was included didn’t feel forced, felt more organic than some other parts, and it was a nice way to see what the world was like before the sundering. 

I liked that the prediction I had about Forchenault and the Forum was more or less spot on. And seeing him finally admit his plans, what they were for, and why he was doing it, was genuinely one of the more emotional parts for me.

The call backs to previous questlines--either MSQ or sidequests--and older characters that were no more than footnotes in my mind was a nice touch. Seeing a different side of Garlemald--the civilians and soldiers who were just doing their duty and trying to live their life as best they could and the only way they knew how. Seeing them finally admit that what they were wasn’t what they should have been. 

Vrtra was an amazing additon and I like seeing a Dragon in a different position that we’ve seen thus far. And seeing one with such a disposition that there truly feels like there’s no difference between them and men. 

I do believe that Ishikawa did the best she could with the pieces she’d been given. There were certainly choices made before she took over that should not have been. (Looking at you Zenos.) But she took them and made something of them that I don’t think other writers would have been able to do. And Soken, like always, is a musical genius.

I certainly don’t feel this expansion lives up to the hype, or its predecessor (Shadowbringers) but it wasn’t *bad*. I look forward to seeing what Ishikawa and the rest of the FFXIV team brings in the future. 

(Though for fuck sake, that epilogue. I just want to be DONE with Ascians, thank you very much.)

Also, please bear in mind that these are JUST my opinions. They’re not fact. They’re how *I* feel about the expansion. If you feel differently or enjoyed it more than I did, by no means are you wrong, or wrong for enjoying it so much. This is just my take and feelings on the matter.

[isoldmysoultokpop]

{ATEEZ Yunho FF} Love Yourself (part 5)

~Rating: Teen~ ~Yunho x fem.reader~ ~This is fictional~

Trigger warnings: Suicidal themes, self hate, cutting, and anything else that might be related

P.S. Sorry for grammatical errors/spelling mistakes ^^;

You were finally ready for your date with Yunho. You were wearing a maroon short sleeved over-the-shoulder crop top with a black skirt. You had a gold necklace and earrings as accessories.

You were currently brushing your hair when a knock on the door alerts you.

“Who is it?” you ask.

“It’s just me, San,” said San’s voice.

You tell him to come in and the door creaks open.

“Are you ready for your date?~” San asks in a teasing tone.

You smile as you straighten your hair. “I’m almost done,” you said.

San flops down onto your bed. “Probably not the time to ask, but did your parents ever try contacting you after you ran away?” San asks.

You shake your head. “No, not really. They tried calling me and left nasty voicemails within the first 24 hours of me leaving, but they haven’t really tried recently. I didn’t even have to block their number,” you said.

San hums in thought. “Eh, whatever. I hope the date goes smoothly,” San gives you a thumbs up.

Laughing a little bit, you silently agreed. Another knock on the doorframe makes you look over. Yunho was leaning against the frame.

“Oh hey,” you greet him.

He smiles at you. “Are you almost ready?”

You nod. “Yeah, just gotta finish straightening my hair,” you replied back as you finished up.

You grab a purse that matches your outfit and run up to Yunho.

“Oh, you look nice, Y/N,” Yunho says, a light blush on his face.

San grins at you two from your bed. “Good luck, you two,” he says.

You glare at him. “You better not still be on my bed when we get back,” you warn.

San grins back at you. “We’ll see,” he said, not taking your warning seriously.

Sighing, you leave with Yunho.

~

You both stopped at a local coffee shop to pick up some drinks. You had gotten a latte and Yunho got a smoothie.

“Why are you so basic?” you question.

“Basic?” Yunho asks, feigning pain. “You wound me, Y/N.”

You chuckle at his antics. “But for reals,” you try again. “Why the smoothie?”

Yunho shrugs. “It’s unusually warm today; I wanted something refreshing,” he says before taking a sip of his smoothie.

“Oh, makes sense.”

You let Yunho lead the way while you two walked. Your eyes caught sight of a light pink in the distance. Realizing what they are, you grab Yunho’s hand and start rushing forward, excited.

Yunho smiles at you and your excitement while you quickly make your way to the cherry blossoms.

You stop under the gently swaying trees. You stare at the pink flowers with awe in your eyes. You loved the cherry blossoms.

You were admiring the few that were already falling, and you felt a hand brush against the side of your face. You turn your head to look at Yunho.

He has a cherry blossom in his hand, and he brushes the hair out of your face. He puts the flower in your hair, behind your ear. He stares at you for a while.

“You’re so beautiful,” Yunho murmurs.

You blush at how close he is to your face. Yunho leans forward and places a soft kiss onto your forehead.

He backs away from you, but he grabs your hand and holds it while you two walk down the pathway lined with cherry blossom trees. Other couples were around, admiring the beautiful trees as well.

You take a sip of your latte as you enjoy the warm breeze and subtle scent of the blossoms. You let out a content sigh and close your eyes.

Yunho silently admires how peaceful you are.

After a bit of walking under the trees, you two stop at a bench to rest. You lean your head against Yunho’s shoulder, watching others’ lives unfold before you.

Coffee, warm weather, cherry blossoms, Yunho... today was almost too nice.

Your eyes drift to something shiny in the distance. You could see balloons swaying in the breeze. You point at them.

“Yunho, can we get balloons?” you ask, eager.

Yunho nods at your cuteness. You get up and start walking over to the stall with flower and heart shaped balloons. They were also selling cute bracelets.

“Should we match?” you ask Yunho, nodding at the bracelets.

Yunho blushes slightly at the idea of a couples accessory but he agrees in the end.

You get you and Yunho matching turquoise bracelets while he buys you and himself a balloon. You two help each other tie the string of the balloon around your wrist to make sure it doesn’t escape your grasp.

You both finished your drinks and threw out the cups at a public garbage and continued your way to the main park, hand in hand.

After walking for about 20 minutes, you notice a bright yellow stall with cartoony, cute ice cream and popsicles decorating the side.

“Shall we get some ice cream?” you ask excitedly.

Yunho nods in agreement.

You both walk over to the stall.

After a bit of thinking, you ask for a cup of lemon ice cream while Yunho gets a peach flavor.

You find a bench and sit down on it, Yunho sitting down next to you.

You hum in content as you eat the refreshing ice cream.

“How is it?” Yunho asks.

“It’s really good,” you say, smiling widely. You grab some of the ice cream with your spoon and offer it to Yunho.

“Say ahh,” you tease.

Yunho rolls his eyes, but accepts the ice cream and lets you feed him.

He nods in approval. “It is good,” he says. “Want some of mine?”

“Uhm, yes,” you say, opening your mouth, ready for him to feed you.

He looks taken aback at first, but he quickly obliges and feeds you too.

You gasp. “Whaa, that’s amazing,” you say, covering your mouth as you savor the flavor.

Yunho chuckles at your reaction.

While Yunho was distracted, you used your spoon and stole some of his ice cream.

“Yah!” Yunho exclaims. He pouts as you eat his ice cream.

Smiling at the puppy beside you, you offer your cup to him. “Here, you can have some more of mine,” you said apologetically.

He brightens up at that. He eats about the same amount you stole from him.

Enjoying the peace between you two, you continue eating your ice cream as you admire the cherry blossoms.

You accidentally got some ice cream on your cheek somehow, and you could feel the cold sensation. You were about to raise your hand to wipe it away when you felt a thumb brush against your cheek.

You turn your head to look at Yunho, a slight blush on your face, which deepens as Yunho licks the ice cream off of his finger. All while maintaining eye contact with you.

“E-Excuse me, sir-” you say, flustered.

Yunho just hums innocently.

Sighing at his antics, you finish off your ice cream, letting the cold treat cool your warm body.

Feeling a bit drowsy, you lean your head against Yunho’s shoulder while spacing out.

You felt Yunho give the top of your head a kiss before leaning his head against yours.

You were content.

You were happy.

“Y/N?”

You froze.

“Y/N? Is that really you?”

No... please, anyone but who I think it is.

You open your eyes to see your mom giving you the most incredulous look.

“Woow, look at you being so happy,” she snapped while walking up to you and Yunho. You felt a sharp impact against the side of your head.

Your mom had struck you before either you or Yunho had time to react.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” Yunho ask, worry evident in his voice.

Your mom scoffs. “Please, she’s had worse.” You mom grabs your hair, making you look at her. “How pathetic. You’re still a failure,” she snarls while forcefully throwing your hair to one side.

“Yah!” You heard Yunho object. “How can you say that to your own daughter?”

“Yunho...” you mutter. “Don’t get involved...”

Your mom ignores Yunho entirely. “I’m still really disappointed that you couldn’t even take your own life.” She clicks her tongue. “Such a bother.”

You grit your teeth.

“And yet you have the audacity to be out here, holding hands with some nobody, acting all happy when you haven’t earned it at all.”

Yunho nudges you. “Let’s get out of here,” he whispers.

You ignore him too though.

Your moms’ words were ringing in your ears.

I don’t deserve to be happy.

I don’t deserve Yunho.

“What are you even doing with your life, huh?” your mom asks.

“I....” you hang your head. “I’ve been practicing dancing and... and singing,” you admit, tears starting to form in your eyes.

“Hah, I should’ve known. The second you left me and your father, we knew you were going to go running back to that pathetic dream of yours. A singer, of all things,” contempt is obvious in her tone of voice. “You’ll never be good enough to be successful. You know that. Your voice is too annoying for a good singing voice, and you’ve been anything but graceful ever since you were born.”

You stood up and ran.

You heard Yunho call your name, but you didn’t listen. You had to get out of there.

You continued running until you got to the boys house. You didn’t even acknowledge any of the boys, not even San as he tried asking what was wrong. You ran into the kitchen and snuck a knife into your clothes. You ran up to the bathroom by your bedroom and locked yourself in the small room.

You slumped down onto the floor by the toilet and withdrew the knife from your clothes. You stared at the metal blade in your hands.

I don’t deserve happiness.

You thought as you brought the blade to your arm. You felt the blade puncture your skin and you noticed a dot of red start to form where the tip of the blade was. Tears were freely flowing from your eyes right now.

You didn’t want this.

You ran the blade quickly against your arm. You grit your teeth as the pain increases.

You cut yourself a few more times. You hunch over in pain, but you couldn’t scream. No one should know you’re doing this.

You heard a ruckus down on the first floor.

“Where is she??” you recognized Yunho’s voice.

You heard someone coming up the stairs loudly, followed by another pair of footsteps.

Banging sounded on the bathroom door.

“Y/N!” Yunho shouted, trying to twist the doorknob but to no avail.

“Y/N! Please!” Yunho banged on the door some more.

You crawled backward until your back hit the wall.

You could hear San’s voice outside the door too.

“Hyung, calm down, you’re only going to scare her more,” San said quietly.

The banging stopped, but you knew Yunho was still standing outside the door.

“Y/N, please,” Yunho spoke again. “Open the door.”

You were silently crying. You refused to speak in fear of your voice giving you away.

Yunho begged for you to open the door a few more times, but it eventually went silent.

You heard San’s voice again.

“Hyung, one of the kitchen knives is gone, and no one knows where it is...”

You curse internally. Yunho speaks through the door again, trying to get you to open the door.

You stare the blood that’s all over your arm.

He shouldn’t be concerned for you. After all, you don’t deserve him.

You press the blade against your skin again, letting the pain consume you until that’s all you felt.

~

It had to be night.

Yunho had never left. He was sitting outside the door. He tried to convince you to open the door many times. He was losing his voice with how much he’s tried.

You had stopped cutting yourself, but you still had the bloody knife in your hand. Your arm was covered in dried blood, and your face was covered with tear stains.

You heard some voices outside the door.

“Oh, hyung, thank goodness you’re back,” you heard San’s voice say.

“What’s happening?” Hongjoong’s voice was now heard.

Yunho speaks up. “Y/N locked herself away in the bathroom, and we think she has one of the kitchen knives.”

You heard some hushed talking and some shuffling around, but you just shrugged it off. They were just going to try to communicate with you again.

However, you heard a click and saw the doorknob turn. Hongjoong opened the door but froze at the sight of you.

“Y-Y/N,” Hongjoong murmured.

Joong regains his senses though and steps aside. Yunho hurries into the room.

He immediately grabs the knife out of your hand and hands it to San, who you assume takes it back to the kitchen.

“Y/N, what...” Yunho started to form a question but breaks off.

You looked down. You didn’t want Yunho to see you like that.

Yunho sighs before grabbing a washcloth from the bathroom shelf. He wets it and grabs your arm gently.

You stare at him through hooded eyes.

Yunho starts to gently clean your wounds.

You wince at the pain, but it wasn’t as bad as earlier.

Yunho sighs again.

You’re suddenly engulfed in warmth and Yunho’s scent. He had wrapped his arms around you. He was giving you a hug.

You tried pushing him away, but he just tightened his hold on you.

“Y/N...” he whispers.

You thought you had cried until you had no more tears, but you found yourself crying once again.

You were upset with yourself. You should’ve known better.

“I’m sorry,” you finally speak after hours of silence.

Yunho shushes you and rubs your back comfortingly. “You’re safe now. You’ll be alright,” Yunho whispers.

You cry harder.

“Please, Y/N. Whenever you’re hurting, please talk to me about it. I’ll be there for you. I’ll be your light in your darkness. I won’t ever leave you,” he continues to whisper words into your ear.

(BTS’s song Blue and Grey was playing while I was writing this and oml, it’s making me emotional)

“Yunho,” you breathe out.

He pulls away slightly so he could look you in the eye. “If you need space, I’ll give you space, but if you need someone to lean on, I’ll always be there for you. So please, don’t ever hurt yourself ever again,” Yunho pleads, tears in his eyes.

Realizing how much you’ve hurt Yunho, you graze your hands against the side of his face. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Yunho,” you apologize softly.

Yunho starts crying.

This time, you hug him.

You didn’t mean for any of this to happen.

After Yunho calmed down, he sits down next to you with the first aid kit. He was rinsing out your wounds with antibiotic. It stung, but you still managed to talk with him.

“I thought your depression was getting better,” Yunho said quietly.

You purse your lips. “It was, but the things my mom said today just reawakened all of those feelings, and it was too much for me to bear. I needed something else to drown out those feelings and memories...”

Yunho stares at your cuts. “I wish I could tell you to ignore your parents and that you’ll feel better soon, but I know it doesn’t work like that,” he says.

“It’s alright, Yunho. You already offered to be my light in my darkness, so I think I’ll be getting better. Maybe not soon, but eventually,” you give his hand a comforting squeeze.

Yunho sighs for probably the hundredth time now.

You also sigh with him. “It was dumb of me,” you said. “I knew I shouldn’t have resorted to cutting, but here we are.”

Yunho shakes his head. “It’s not your fault. You had it really rough until I found you in the river. You’ve endured those kinds of words and actions for so many years. I’m sure those years have built up and were unbearable, to the point where you tried taking your own life.” Yunho puts bandages on your arm, covering the cut marks. “Did you used to cut?”

“No,” you admit. “I’ve always refrained from doing it, either by reason or fear. But today, I was just so... desperate.”

Yunho hums in response.

“Well,” Yunho starts. “It’s been a long day. I think you should get some sleep.”

You pause. “Yunho?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I... sleep with you tonight?” you ask.

Yunho blinks at you several times. “Uh- I-I guess,” he says timidly.

“I just don’t want to be alone tonight,” you explain quickly.

He nods. “I know, it was just so sudden,” Yunho says as he offers you his hand.

You stand up and finally get off of the bathroom floor.

As Yunho walked you to your bedroom, you noticed San sitting outside your room.

“Y/N!!” San exclaims the second he sees you.

San gives you a big bear hug before you have time to respond to him.

“You worried me sick!” San says, his voice shaky.

You felt really bad for making the boys worry.

You hug San back, and you hear him let out a sigh of relief.

“Please don’t scare us like that again,” San says.

“I’ll try not to,” you give San a small smile.

He pouts before letting you go. “I’ll let you get some sleep,” he said as he waves at you and Yunho.

After you had changed into your pajamas, the rest of the boys came up to check on you. You had worried all of them, and they had to actually see you (and physically hug you) to make sure you were alright.

Now, you were laying in Yunho’s bed, cuddling up in his bed covers. Yunho was busy getting ready for bed with a few other of the boys.

You were reflecting on your actions, and you deeply regretted resorting to cutting. You were ashamed.

Yunho came in as you were on the verge of crying again. He noticed right away.

“Y/N,” he softly called out.

You looked at him.

“What did I tell you earlier?” he asks just as softly.

You continue to stare at him.

“Let me be your light,” he says, walking up to your side of the bed. He sits down on the edge of the bed and brushes your hair out of your face. He tucks a stray strand behind your ear.

You close your eyes at his touch.

“Don’t worry so much,” Yunho whispers. “Me and the others boys are here for you.”

You could feel yourself drifting off to sleep as Yunho continued to stroke your head.

Yunho’s quiet whisper was the last thing you heard before you succumbed to slumber.

“You’re beautiful, Y/N.”

~To be continued :) A/N: I’m sorry if the emotions/cutting isn’t... accurate, per se? I tried my best, but I haven’t actually been victim to this. I just wanted to try my hand at angst.

[soimarriedayuki]

I forgot

Those close to us will know that there is a certain level of banter that we indulge in where it could be very easy to take it the wrong way. Part of this is due to our location.

We are and have grown up in a country where it is normal to hand out insults by way of terms of endearment. That being said the other side to our little back and forth stems from the fact we have known each other for the best part of 16 years. 

I am not joking in any way when i say I was lucky enough to marry my best friend. Yes i know nauseating isn’t it? don’t worry even i’m feeling the affects of that one you are not alone.

Anyway you find us in one of our little banter moments while the child is in bed and my darling husband has something to say.

---

After a while of sitting in silence playing around on my phone I decided I should probably go and get a drink... or something to eat. 

One of the hazards I did find after becoming a mother was that I seem to have this mystical power of supplying food to everyone else in the household except myself. I think i mentioned this before somewhere, if not then i guess now you know.

Before I could move to do anything Yuki appears in a flurry of... well ok he isn’t that snowman from Frozen he does enter the room like he should be a self contained storm of some sort though. 

"WOMAN!" Don’t you just love it when they get so worked up over something they can’t even formulate calling you by name? ... me neither. 

"Congratulations you have correctly guessed my gender and what shall be doing for your next trick?" 

It is safe to say our little conversations do tend to be made worse when i end up triggering my ow brand of sass. It isn’t something i am particularly proud of and believe me I am generally not like this with others. Yuki is just a special case. 

"Shut up Dummy!" He stands there looking just as irritated as i feel. Which is a little amusing given the fact i haven’t even begun to start anything. 

"You say that but i'm not the one struggling to tell my wife I love them." Ok, I kinda did now. I lasted a good 5 minutes from the whole entrance to this point though. Well... 3 minutes 15 seconds.

".... you don't tell me that." Yuki starts to mumble and rubs his neck. 

Here stands the man that is a great poker player and cannot hide a single thing from his own wife. Not really a bad trait to have in the grand scheme of things.

"You're not my wife, Princess." By this point i’m back to smiling the irritation i felt has gone mostly because i could tease him. I know i’m a terrible person, but honestly you should see him its too precious.

"I'm your husband!" 

"Well yes you are thank you for clearing that up i was starting to wonder." 

It really is like shooting fish in a barrel sometimes. I would love to say i can do this with everyone but mostly it really is only my blunt, straight forward and easily baited long suffering husband.

You marry a kitsune i guess this is the price you pay.

"Wonder?" He really does look confused now. I almost feel sorry for him... almost. 

One of the other things I have discovered during this global pandemic that resulted in us being forced into habitation 24/7 with the rest of the household is that I have probably reached a limit on how much togetherness i can take. 

This does mean my restraint against teasing has taken a sharp decline.

"If you thought of yourself as my husband or not?" I have told you all I do actually love him right? in case you are still wondering I actually do. I also love the way he gets red in the face when flustered or annoyed. 

"Idiot course I do. I married you ffs"  Yuki huffs and then flops down on the sofa next to me. 

"My my and you do have a good memory. I'm blessed with an overabundance of the skill set you possess dearest." I give him a nudge and grin at the way he reacts. 

it’s not a jump or a full shudder but i can almost see him bristle and it nearly makes me laugh. Yes i know i’m terrible and trust me i do get my payback from time to time. Karma is unavoidable.

"Don't call me ‘dearest’ it's creepy." He leans back into the sofa and puffs up looking like a chipmunk with it’s cheeks full. 

"Why is that creepy sweetheart?" I purposely ignore it and take a finger to poke his nose.

"That's even worse it's like something is crawling on my skin." 

"And now you have been shown one of my skills. The ability to get under your skin." He glares at me which does nothing to instil any kind of fear at all. “What did you want anyway?”

He was looking at me so hard that it could have broken glass but all of a sudden that look is gone and replaced by something else. I have no idea what it is somewhere between realisation and disbelief. 

“... I can’t remember.” 

“You can’t remember?” 

His voice was a mumble that reminded me of our child when asked what she was up to only for her to reply with a “I dunno”. I do wonder if lack of self awareness is hereditary. 

“I forgot”

“I take it back. Good memory is not one of your skills tonight.”

---

[neonwizardheehee]

thesis rant bc I feel like complaining (don’t take it too serious I really just want to whine rn ... and maybe procrastinate XD)

so y’know I’ve been writing on my thesis for months now (hahah) and i had a 20/40 pages already, a good concept and a good feeling I could do this. (won’t be my best work but the institution I’m working with sucks so idgaf) well then I spoke to my prof and now I prob only have 7 pages, a new structure and shall think of a new concept v.v I’m tired and confused at this point. yes my prof wants to help me do a better job, and it hurts me that I see her points and feel the need to change up... but also... oof I have to get more into the current discussions in my field and i absolutely suck at this... bc I’m super clueless. 

my chef and senior from my internship is too busy on her own and i don’t want to bother.,.. and my friends too... i def miss brainstorming ideas with like minded ppl :( that’s why I prefer teamwork q.q but yeah I have to do it somehow on my own and ... idk be my own team I guess?? oof v.v how 

another thing is work space. I hate working/writing from home and alone (ty quarantine for letting me learn this). if i’m with other ppl I don’t scroll as much on sns or just zone out.... i actually put effort into my work (and coffee!). also i finally found a nice café and nice company there.. but .... the corona cases are going up again and I feel like going to the café won’t help it :( so i’m scared to go now. I could go to uni bc that’s an amazing place as well but I feel so awkward on my own there and I hate that feeling - but seems like that’s the only solution? since I get only half as much done at home now :((((

also a thing that i miss is having weird hours. y’know being a college student and not having weekends bc u still have to do uni work, staying up late night to write shit down..... yeah... those were the times... I feel like a boring adult rn since i have such a routine and it’s suffocating >< i want my irregular days back x.x

i shouldn’t feel so lost and close to crying for no reason... I want to be an amazing student and do actually cool stuff and not just bs my way through >< this thesis could be a great opportunity and here I am ... doing nothing :(((((

idk how to change that feeling and it makes me want to crawl into bed, read ffs to imagine a better life and be in self-pity... alone the thought of this hurts me so much and makes me angry at myself. like!!!! i don’t want to be that way! i HATE complaining about such firstworldproblems and i am so angry at myself >< (maybe that’s why I want to cry haha)

i feel so annoying trying to ask my friends here if we could work together bc everyone is so busy themselves and I hate whining online bc it’s all my fault for getting into such a situation (as I said don’t take it too srs I love being dramatic)

idk what to do to change that rn...... somehow I feel like I’m running from myself (again) and it makes me sad. how do you get out of this? who to talk to since either they already know I am struggeling with this or they would feel overwhelmed since we’re not that close. truth is.. that won’t be the solution.... i can’t rely on ppl to help me out of this... i never do anything on my own so..... this should be my chance... i hate it but it’s true... truth hurts, right?

the best would be to get in that art-vibe where u can’t do anything but focus on that piece of work. I have 2 shining stars in the darkness of my mind (ohh how dramatic!) who genuinely make me not delete my social skills and keep reasonable hours (altho my sis has some unreasonable hours herself lol) they make me try to be a human and do normal human things and help me so much by just....caring for me v.v so grateful :( 

[elegiesforshiva]

Reanimate

Summary: Sometimes, Sakura wishes Sasuke was more vocal.  She agrees to spend the night, but only on two conditions.

Rating: M…or E.  (the entire thing is sin y’all) Links: FF and AO3 links can be found in the notes.

Tonight, Sakura is adorned in lace and satin.

Red, of course.  It’s always been her preferred color, and while he has never said it allowed, Sakura is certain it’s Sasuke’s favorite on her too.

They’re in his room tonight, everything pristine and paved in neutral shades.  Sakura thinks he blends in perfectly—hard porcelain animated only in his relaxed posture, knees bent and spine slouched against the chrome wall.  He gives her a once over.  Then another, but more slowly this time.  He meets her eyes with his single visible one.

Sakura walks towards him with lazy strides, the only color in this dull, dim room.  She tries not to feel like a blunt intrusion for it.  She is welcomed here, she reminds herself. He likes it when she gives him this—gives him her.  He’s told her this before; Not often with his words, of course, but still with his mouth all the same.

Her knees brush the fine threads of his sheets and her garment hitches up her thighs as she crawls over to him.  She wonders if he likes it as much as the last piece she wore for him.  He hasn’t given her any of his tells yet, but Sakura understands by now that in itself is a good sign.  She moves carefully, exaggerating the sway her hips before resting between his legs.  Still, Sasuke is quiet, eye beautifully dark and locked solely on her.  

Sakura reaches out, sweeps his dark locks aside with a single finger.  She cups his face, thumb sliding over a long cheekbone and she feels his jaw relax under her caress.  The Rinnegan stares back then, cool and scalding at once, dark tomoe circling inside smoky lavender.  His other eye joins it.

“Are you recording already?” Sakura asks, trying to swallow a spike of giddiness.

“I like you in this,” Sasuke says simply.

“You do?” She asks, leaning forward with an arch.  Her breasts aren’t anything remarkable, but she is certain Sasuke likes them with how his eyes dart lower.  His eyelids curve in a relaxed sort of amusement.  His lips part and he leans forward.

“Ah-ah,” Sakura chides, sitting back.  He stops too, gaze mapping up her throat before meeting her eyes with a striking intensity.  The Sharingan is always like that, Sakura thinks.  Sasuke is always like that.  

He waits patiently, before she says, (Condition #1:) “No touching, remember?”

“I wasn’t going to touch,” Sasuke says, too quick and most definitely defensive.  Sakura thinks he may be pouting.  “Only kiss.”

“Touching with your mouth is still touching.”  

Oh, he’s definitely pouting now.

“Aw, c’mon Sasuke-kun,�� Sakura says, “It’s not so bad, is it?”  Her hands trail up the length of his biceps, the touch light and barely there. Her right hand meets his hairline before her left.

Sasuke is quiet, the line between his lips thin, muscled frame warm and perfectly still.  His face is blank in that contemplative way now, like he’s trying to dissect her.  It’s not much different than their spars, Sakura thinks.  The results are often predictable, but the journey there still always gets them heated.  She likes that about them.  

Sakura leans forward, lips puckered to tease his firm jaw, his throat.  Her hands trace fabric until her fingers meet the fastening of his vest. She moves slow, button by button, kiss by kiss along the bob of his throat.  The vest loosens, and she works on the shirt beneath.

“Have I told you how good you look recently?”  Sakura asks, catches his pale flesh and sucks it into a soft pink, then darker.  The fabric falls open and the heat of him washes over her at once.  

Her fingers trail along him, fine digits tracing the slope of him, feeling bone, muscle, tissue. Here is his subclavius.  Adjacent is his pleura, just over a lung.  To the right, the arch of his aorta—and the beginnings of his heart.  She’s not one to care for her nails most days, but tonight they are a fine red—bright and poignant as she plucks and rolls a slowly hardening nipple.

Sasuke opens his mouth, looking as if he’s about to say something.  His breath fans a warm breeze, and his lips shut.  He doesn’t look away.

Sakura kisses down his pale skin, cherry lip stains smearing along his chest and circling around his nipple. She suckles tender, then scrapes. He doesn’t make a sound but she hears the thund in his chest, coronary arteries working to color his ghastly complexion.  Sometimes it still surprises her, how responsive he can be.  She loves the play of it—from silence to screams. She thinks it’s a little like necromancing life back into the dead.

Sakura pulls away and licks her lips, tasting cherry lip balm as she zeros in on the marks she’s left. He’s staring at her with an expression of shadowed want.  Beautiful, she thinks.  Every part of him—dark and beautiful, stained only by her color.

“Should we have a safe word this time?” Sakura asks, pushing cotton fabric off his shoulders, feather-light touches tracing his tightening muscles.

“We might need one,” Sasuke agrees.  

She wonders what prompts him to say this, but as she meets his focused gaze, she finds herself too nervous to ask.  It’s not that she’s ashamed of her need for him, delirious as it may be, but she had spent many years trying to cultivate her mask as a shinobi.  She’s known for a long while that her every effort was wasted in the face of him, but it’s still a hard fact to forgive, sometimes.

“Something crude, maybe?” Sakura says, tickling his skin with soft grazes.  She dares a look towards his face and finds his eyes closed, head tilted down in a whisper of submission.

“Hm…what’s something that’ll disrupt the mood, but not soil it entirely?” Sakura asks, ghosting her hands over his thighs.  She feels the muscle jump beneath the fabric and glances down to find her fingers awfully close to a bulge hugging his thigh.  She repeats the motion just as slow and slight, teasingly avoiding his cock even as it grows.  Sasuke’s breath hitches.

Sakura leans forward and plants sweet kisses on his jaw, trailing up to tug at his ear.  She loves the soft inhale he makes when she wraps her moist lips around his lobe, latching and departing with a wet sound.

“How about Naruto?” she suggests.  Instantly, Sasuke is rigid.  

“New rule,” he decides, “You are never to say that name in this room.  Ever.”

Sakura laughs, cups his cheeks in both her hands and pulls him close, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding…I actually meant to say ramen.”

“Sakura,” Sasuke warns. Sakura hums, a sweet sound that speaks to her amusement as much as her ardor.  She strokes her fingers through his dark strands, her other hand moving back to his clothed thigh.  He exhales in frustration, and Sakura doesn’t need to imagine what’s got his patience so thin when his cock is growing beside her palm like this.  “Kunai,” he says.  “We’ll use kunai.”

“Okay,” Sakura agrees, and pulls him in for a gentle kiss.  It starts soft and slow, but she chases his warmth, tugging on his lip. She places a hand on his lower stomach, digits fanning while her other hand massages the tense muscles in his thigh.

She can tell she’s getting to him when he deepens the kiss, tilting the angle of their mouths before pushing his tongue into hers.  She moans against him, feels herself dampen at the possessive way he starts to press against her, using everything but his hand.  

He’s testing her control, she knows.  And many times she’s lost this battle, even so early on.  Sasuke just feels too good, and he handles her with the perfect mix of sensuality and fervor that Sakura too-often surrenders to the pleasure without ever knowing when or how.  But when he puts his hand on her hip and starts lowering them onto the bed, Sakura forces him back.

She’s a little too short on breath though, knees a little too tingly, eyes a little too glossy. Sasuke’s sly expression tells her he’s very aware of these facts.  

“Since you’re so impatient,” Sakura says, and she reaches for his pants, “Let’s take care of you, shall we?”

She undoes his trousers with neat tugs until his cock is pressing against her through his loose boxers. He’s already fairly stiff, but not quite at full mass yet.  She remedies this with the kind of ease that would give her girlhood fantasies whiplash—hands skirting his thighs, his toned sternum, his hips—everywhere but where he wants her.  She watches, fascinated, as he anticipates the course of her hands, hips slanting ever so slightly when she nears his erection.

“I thought you said you’d take care of me,” he says, a pathetic goad that she thinks would work better on Naruto than her.  She has to shake herself of the image that follows.  

“Aren’t I?”  Sakura asks, and brushes against his bulge with the heel of her palm.  “What’s wrong, Sasuke-kun?  You don’t like it when I touch you?”

Sasuke gives her a stern glare, licks his already moistened lips and glances down at her breasts, then back up to continue glaring.  “I wouldn’t exactly call that touching.”

“What would you call it then?”  She asks, and cups his hardness firm enough to pull out a sweet hiss.  “Teasing?” she asks.  “Do you want me to stop teasing you, Sasuke-kun?”

Sasuke doesn’t answer, but Sakura decides to take pity on him anyway.  He sighs as she pulls him out, and Sakura has to keep herself from laughing at the unsteady kicks he makes when they slide him out of his lower garments.

Sakura takes his hot flesh and tugs, “You’re so hard, Sasuke-kun,” she notes, tracing a thick vein with the pad of her finger.  “I bet I could ride you right now,” Sakura says, if only to watch his eyes glaze over in want.

“Less talk, more action.”

She tugs at him again, slightly harder this time, and thumbs the head of his cock.  Her touch is still dry right now so she’s handling him with excessive care.  Sasuke doesn’t seem to mind, a pleased sound breaking out.  “Like this, Sasuke-kun?”

“More,” he says and jerks forward, driving his cock into her caress.  His chest expands with each hot breath.

“More what?”  Sakura asks.

“You know how I like it,” he says, his voice deceivingly even.  She reaches for his jaw and finds it tense before he relaxes in her hold. Her other hand rubs the underside of his head, playing with the fleshy tissue.  She feels him tense up again.

“I do, hm?” Sakura asks, adoring the flush of his cheeks.

“Sakura,” he breathes out, rich and reverent, and Sakura feels her stomach stir.  His eyes dart to her lips and Sakura doesn’t waste another moment before she grasps him by the nape and drags him in a sloppy kiss.

She presses herself against every inch of him, and he makes such a low, hungry sound, pushing back against her. The motion is a delicious domino-effect of hot friction: chest against silk against chest—lacy ends skimming his cock, pressing into her thigh.

Sakura pulls away, panting against his lips.  “Someone’s awfully needy today.”  Sasuke groans against her lips, flexes himself to meet her crotch, and for a blinding moment, Sakura’s vision clouds with every color his room lacks.  She tries, quite unsuccessfully, to bite back the sound.

“Look at you,” Sasuke says, she’s certain it’s meant to be a tease, but he kind of sounds like he’s in awe. “We’ve both had a long week,” Sasuke says, “Come, relax, sit,” he suggests, bucking his hips up into her again.  Sakura grips his shoulder fiercely, tugging the ink locks between her fingers.  “We can leave the games for another time.”

“That doesn’t look like a very comfortable seat,” she says, lifting herself away from his need and Sasuke makes a low, gritty sound.  “I think there’s a very hard object sticking out. You’re not trying to hurt me, are you, Sasuke-kun?”

“Never,” he sighs and dips his head by her shoulder.  He sucks and scrapes until she tenses.  “Impale you, maybe.  But never hurt you.”

“Impale me without hurting me?”  Sakura asks, and pulls him back to kiss the corner of his mouth.  “How would you manage that?”

“Would you like a demonstration?”  He offers, wearing that haughty smirk she loves so much.

Sakura hums, and slowly eases him back, arranging herself over him so her lips can find his dusky nipple. “Tempting,” She leaves a wet kiss on his nub, the hot motion starting and ending with the hitch of his breath.  “But I’m not so sure I’m ready for that yet…”

She’s not entirely sure if it’s true though.  Seeing Sasuke hot and bothered like this has her insides clenching.  It is Sasuke though.  And Sasuke has a tendency to be overwhelming, even in these matters.

Especially in these matters, she thinks, eyes locked onto his hard frame, the proud jut of his erection, tip glistening with want.  Gods, how she ached to stretch herself around him. Such a shame he had to go and misbehave like this.

“Then come, let me taste you,” Sasuke says, every syllable lewd, coarse, and eager, “I’ll get your pretty pussy nice and wet for me.”  

Sakura is as aroused as she is delighted.  Sasuke doesn’t usually talk filthily so early on, she can only imagine how wound up he must be and the thought has her immersed in bright glee.

“Me?” Sakura asks, “Get wet for you?”  Her hand presses against his chest, guiding his back to meet the comforters and she purrs at the way he falls to the mattress—cheeks flushed, hair tousled.  “Oh Sasuke-kun, I think it’s you who’s going to get wet for me.”

She dives her head down to suck on the hot flesh of his torso, kissing and sucking wetly, nose brushing soft, in sharp contrast of her teeth.  She follows just to the right of the dark trail of hair, stopping at his navel to kiss and tease. His erection stirs right beside her, catching a few of her stray strands with an oozing stickiness.

“Sakura,” Sasuke says her name with a such a soft, sweet yearning.

She hums, kissing, massaging.  Delicate and precise.  She cups his sacs, gently pulls and squeezes, and he groans.

“Sakura,” he says again, sounding so much more desperate, and oh so beautiful.

“What’s wrong, Sasuke-kun?” she asks, as if his pink tip isn’t swollen and leaking by her cheek. She glides a hand up his thigh, fingers tracing up and down the hard V from his abdomen to his midsection.  “Is there something you need, darling?”

His jaw tightens, and Sakura can’t help but admire his self-restraint.  She’s certain she would have shoved his head between her legs by now, had she been in his position.  Instead, Sasuke bucks up, until his veiny cock brushes against her face, precum smearing along her cheek and sticking to her hair.

“Please,” he whispers, voice throaty and wanting.  “Do something—anything.”

She kisses his clenched stomach once more, “You’re so good, Sasuke-kun,” another kiss, but this time she bites the skin hard enough for his breath to hitch.  “I don’t know why people say you have no manners.”

He almost looks contemplative of that statement before her lips wrap around him.  Whatever thought he has breaks on a desperate, animal cry.

Sakura swirls her tongue along his crown, bobs her head up and down his twitching organ before pulling away.  “Remember, Sasuke-kun,” she begins, (Condition #2:) “No cumming until I say so, do you understand?”

Sasuke’s eyes are still staring dazed, focused only on her glossy lips brushing his cock, so Sakura pulls away and reiterates, “Do you understand?”  It’s only then he gains enough presence to be frowning.

“If you don’t think you can handle that, we’re going to need to stop,” Sakura tells him.  “So can you do it for me?”

Sasuke’s frown deepens. “You’re a fucking tease,” he says, voice airy, already defeated.

Sakura laughs, then brushes her lips along the tip of him, if only to trade that look of frustration for heat.  “What do you say, Sasuke-kun?” She asks, her mouth moving against him, tongue darting against the salt-slick tip.  “Will you be good for me?”

“Yes,” he breathes, “I’ll be good.”

“And how will you be good?”

“I won’t cum,” he says in a sort of wanton, but bereft way, as if the very idea is killing him.  It probably is.

She gives him a wet kiss along the underside, raking a tongue along him in approval.  “Good,” she says simply.  

She takes him in her mouth slowly, cheeks hallowing, head bobbing up and down.  Her fingers reach for him, cupping, squeezing, fondling every part of him that her tongue can’t glide over.  In moments, Sasuke is shaking.

Sakura listens to his breathing while she moves, his flesh is warm and she hums at the distinct, bitter taste against her tongue.  Sasuke’s sighs are remarkably relaxed considering the uneven shifts of his hips, which make it very clear he’s trying hard not to shove himself into her mouth.

She’s starts to tug and knead him in the places he likes, one hand reaching through and squeezing his cheek.  Her head bobs faster, tongue gliding as she wetly slurps more of him.  Sasuke grunts, his hips lurching forward and suddenly there’s hot flesh sliding along the walls of her throat.  Sakura moans around his cock—a sound of alarm or perhaps excitement.  Sasuke is crying out, broken and needy; his thigh jerks taut against her palm.

“Ple-ease,” he moans, huffing, shaking, the depth of his voice breaking on a quiver.

“Mm-mm,” She hums in refusal, well aware of what the very sound is doing to him.  Sasuke would probably be shooting her a nasty glare if he wasn’t so busy biting back a nut.

Sakura bobs her head in an increasingly slower fashion until she mercifully lets him go with a wet pop.  His body—nearly arched in tension—falls slack onto bedsheets.

He stares up at her, breathing hard as she wipes the spit from her face and tries to catch her own breath.  Sasuke is spread beautifully, body pale, pink, and slick in all the right places.

She combs her fingers through his dark hair, and trails kisses down his cheek until she connects with his mouth.  His own lips tug, and suck, meeting her with a soft want.  “Good?” Sakura asks.

Sasuke hums, nostrils flaring in a strained sort of approval.  “You aren’t going easy on me.”

“You can handle it,” Sakura taunts.  “Besides…” Her hands glides over to his knee. “I kind of like you like this.”  She kisses his warm temple then slides off the bed to snoop through the nightstand.

Lazily, Sasuke pushes himself up with an elbow before Sakura returns with a tube of clear liquid and a small, circular band.  

“You’re kidding,” Sasuke says.

“Nope,” Sakura says. “I told you I wanted to try it out soon.”

“You’re going to kill me,” Sasuke says, his eyes fastened to the black elastic.

Sakura hums, wasting little time before oiling her hands with lubricant.  She likes the image of their mutual eagerness: the wet, slick sound of her palms, and the bob of Sasuke’s erection, anticipating her touch.

She handles him gently as she strokes, lubricating him with soft squeezes and appreciative teases.  Then she gently works the cock ring on around him.

“How does it feel?” Sakura asks.

Sasuke stares down in something aligned with mistrust.  “Tight.”

Sakura bites back a smirk, “Isn’t that a good thing?  You say that about me all the time.”

Sasuke meets her eyes, then trails down curve of her figure, stopping between her legs.  With the look he’s giving her, she’s certain whatever bit of panties he can see is wet.  “That’s a different tight.”

Sakura wraps her fingers around his cock and he jumps at the sensation.  “Different in a good way, I presume?”  She pumps him in a lazy, loose hold.

Sasuke’s eyes are hooded, expression melting.  His breath hitches before he responds, “Yes.”

She tightens her grip, circles her thumb along the glistening tip and handles him with the kind of delicious pressure that she knows could make him cum in seconds. “Will you tell me, Sasuke-kun?”

“You’re warm,” he breathes, eyes closed. “You’re perfect.”

“Keep going,” she says, forming a tight circle along the crown and pumps all the way down and back up. She adores the way he groans, arching into her hold.  “What do you love about being inside me, hm?”

“Everything,” he says. She works him faster and his eyes slit open, impossibly hungry.  The vibrant colors pierce through her.  “I love that you let me,” he starts, and this surprises her enough to calm her pace. His hips buck up to compensate.  

“That, after everything, even after…” he trails, and Sakura gives him a very purposeful squeeze then, one that forces a long, drawn out sound.  She’s not sure what prompts her to do that—if she didn’t like that train of thought or perhaps liked it too much.

“You always give me that look,” Sasuke breathes, eyes pinching shut, body writhing.  She wonders what look he means, what he must be envisioning in his head.  “You squeeze me so tight and you give me that look.”

“You give me a look too, Sasuke-kun,” Sakura says, fondling him all the way down, then back up, taking care to palm the underside of his cock with a tad more friction.  His bright eyes are glazed open, face relaxing into a doped up expression until he moans out, the band of his body pulled taut.

She sighs happily, leans down to kiss him along his wonderfully vocal throat.  “Yes, that one,” she coos, “I love that one.”

Sasuke jerks violently then, and Sakura finds herself deeply impressed with the way his teeth press into his lip in what could only be a useless measure of restraint.  She moves her hand faster to reward and punish him in one.  Sasuke squirms under her touch, heel digging into the mattress, knees falling out, lips parting beautifully.  The sounds.  The wonderful, ardent, husky sounds are music to her ears.

His cock is such smooth velvet under her hands and she loves the feel of him.  She’s quickly replacing her desire to tease him for her desire to take him, but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t draw this out for all she can.  Sasuke looks far too good like this—brows pinched and stuttering.  He makes a very loud and very slow drag of a groan then, and whispers her name so sensually that Sakura has to bite down on her own lip.  She shifts, the fabric between her legs sticky and uncomfortable.

It’s then that his hand reaches for her, tangles in her hair to guide her lips against his.  For a moment Sakura considers the fact that he is most certainly breaking a rule, but his teeth tug at her bottom lip, tongue gliding over and Sakura mumbles his name in pleasure instead of warning.

His mouth moves against her deeper and now her body is pressed right against his, his cock wedged tight between their abdomens.  He shifts them, hauling her up into his lap with his one arm, and Sakura is suddenly struck with the reminder of how very small her frame is beside his.

“Let me to touch you,” he murmurs, plea hot and breathy against her neck, his nose tracing up and back down her throat.  He closes his lips over her pulse and sucks hard enough to bruise.

Her fingers fist in his hair and her hips buck, sliding her core along his thigh.  She wonders how he has let her do any of this to him when he so easily makes her stupid with nothing but his mouth.  He kisses her again, less tender but more passionate and this time she makes a sound.

“I can feel you, Sakura,” he pants, shifts his thigh against her wet crotch and Sakura tenses all over. He kisses up her throat, mouth latching onto her thundering pulse and it takes everything in Sakura not to mewl her neglected frustration and grind down on him.  

“You want my hand somewhere else.  My mouth somewhere else.”  Sasuke sighs, his breath hot against her even hotter skin. “I do too.”

She breathes deep enough for the red satin around her tummy to brush against his slickened hardness. Sasuke exhales against her skin then, but this time of surprise, and Sakura is instantly reminded of who holds the reigns here.

“Play time isn’t over, Sasuke-kun,” Sakura responds sweetly, then shoves him back down onto the bed.

She swings a leg over, traps his cock against his stomach and the wet nook between her thighs.  He chokes on a moan at the contact, hand flying to grasp her hip.  

“Mmm…Sasuke-kun,” Sakura hums, allows him to guide her movement, gliding slick fabric up and down his throbbing need.  “You feel so good.”

He doesn’t say anything—just stares up at her with those blazing eyes, his lips parted deliciously.

“Do I feel good too, Sasuke-kun?” Sakura asks, twisting her hips with such precision that the underbrush of his head parts her folds beneath the sopping wet panties.  

“Yes,” He hisses.  She rolls her hips slower then, makes those fine brows curve into a helpless distress. “Yes, fuck, Sakura. Please.”

“Please what, Sasuke-kun?” She asks.

He frowns, and it looks like he’s trying to glare at her but he’s far too deep in the pleasure she’s offering to really commit.  “You know,” he grits.

“I do?” She asks. “Hmm… let me think.”  She lifts herself off his lap and he nearly chokes, his hand tightening around her hip so hard, she can feel his nails bedding into her skin.  He tries to force her back down to his cock but his arm just shakes uselessly with the strain.  

“Oh, I know,” Sakura says, “You want me to take this off, right?”  She glides a path down her tummy to pluck at her panties, and his eyes drunkenly watch the motion.   “You want to feel me closer?  Is that it?”

Sasuke nods, quick and stupidly eager.  He stares hotly as her hand slides beneath the band instead of grasping it.

“Ooh…”  Sakura moans, her pointer finger brushing her clit.  “I think I’m having some trouble,” she says, then arches her hips forward. “Can you take it off for me, Sasuke-kun?”

He does so with an uncharacteristic enthusiasm, guiding the band around one leg down, then the other, until his eyes are set on her finger moving in small, slow circles along her bud. He makes a soft groan at the sight of her seam, his cock stiff and lubricated only a few blank spaces away.  

Sasuke’s tongue darts out, sliding over his bottom lip.  She can feel his hand tense, squeezing her thigh deliciously before he reaches up to grip her hip and guide her to him.  She lets him, just this once, setting one palm on his muscled shoulder, the other still preoccupied with flicking at her own wet sex.

When Sakura’s lower petals meets Sasuke’s swollen head, his palm clamps around her tight.  He’s sloppy and needy, thrusting up against her while trying to force her down.  She gasps, feeling the pressure of his blunt tip spreading her, before she tilts her hips so he crosses her seam instead.  He curses filthily, then tries unsuccessfully to pull her up and thrust home again.

“No touching,” Sakura reminds him.

“I’m not touching,” Sasuke says, still trying to spear her on his cock.

“I said,” Sakura snatches at his hard grip, chakra loaded fingers forcing him down, his arm locked above his head.  “No. Touching.”  

Sasuke’s face has turned into a strange blend of fright and arousal beneath her, spiky ink locks fanned and framing his blown pupils.  

“Understood?”

Sasuke huffs in a shaky compliance, and Sakura smiles sweetly.  “Good,” she says.

Sakura lowers her hips enough for her sex to meet his base, and Sasuke chokes on the contact.  She comfortably traps his cock between his twitching abdomen and her aching pussy before she rides the length of him, the bare contact leaving them both raw and wet.  Sakura whimpers and Sasuke groans.

She rocks slowly, her gaze heady, growing lighter by the minute because Sasuke is just lying there, bucking into her, staring with the kind of helpless need she’d been aching for since puberty had stormed her out her wits.  Every part of his domineering presence has grown tensely submissive beneath her, muscles clenching, and eyes pleading.  He’s more vocal tonight than she thinks he’s ever been in his life, and she’s on the brink of coming right against him when Sasuke’s moans start to turn to whimpers and then to blatant begs.

His voice is so grainy and strangled, every other sound a “Please,” or a moan.  He whimpers that he needs her, he’ll do anything, help her and Ino with the garden and buy her sweets, he’ll even be nice to the idiot, he’ll put off long missions for an extra fucking month—Anything.  

“I need you,” he groans, thrusting in a way that makes his crown rub perfectly against her needy clit. She feels herself on the precipice, his voice a whisper behind her pulse. “Gods, Sakura, I need you.”

Sakura cums.

It takes hold of her powerfully, but quickly.  Sakura can tell Sasuke is trying to prolong it with the stuttered motion of his hips, but he’s too much of a mess himself to guide her through it properly.  She kisses him wet and sloppy, curving her tongue against his lips before pushing past.  She feels his pleasured groan as much as she hears it.

“I want to feel you inside me,” she says, panting. “Do you want that too?”

“Please,” he says, scorching breath fanning against her.

A little dizzy, but still all too eager, Sakura lifts herself over him.  She hovers there for a moment, just long enough to kiss him softly on his mouth, admiring the bereft sound he makes before it spans into a guttural moan.

Sasuke stretches her both impossibly and perfectly.  The angle isn’t quite right though and he’s so swollen that she has to ease herself the rest of the way in increments, rising and sinking with short bounces and a swivel of her hips.  Sasuke is still, but there’s a tight expression on his face that she’s trying to kiss away.

“Shit.  Fuck me,” he grits, as if she isn’t doing exactly that.

“You’re so good.” Sakura kisses a furrowed brow, then his forehead, lifting herself up and easing back down again.  “So good for me,” she breathes.   She circles her hips in the next stride and Sasuke makes a sound of pure bliss.

“Sakura,” he whimpers, “Please, I can’t…”

“Not yet,” she murmurs, kisses his wet mouth again, riding him with a shaky, but measured pace.

“Sakura, I’m gonna cum,” he whispers, and it almost sounds like he’s on the brink of crying with his need to.

She stills for him then, clenching and unclenching around his girth.  Sasuke is a panting mess.  “Kunai?” She asks.  He opens his eyes lazily, and shakes his head No. He’s a complete wreck though, and Sakura hopes it isn’t pride speaking.  

She runs her fingers through his dark hair, the edges dampened with his exertion.  His breath is molten, beating against her collar.  “I love you, Sasuke-kun,” she whispers softly, and kisses him. “Love you,” she mumbles against his mouth.

The shift happens in unison, without anything but gasps and the gentle tug of his palm, urging her to continue.  Sakura rides him with long, smooth strides at first, before he coaxes her into quick little bounces, his thumb digging into the pelvis.  In moments, Sakura can feel the increasing thunder of her pulse, everything inside winding stiff and tight.

Sasuke fucks up into her, uneven but still thorough, hitting her sweet spot and making it hard for her to maintain control.  He doesn’t take her lingerie off but pulls a thin strap down with his teeth, then takes her exposed nipple between those same pearly whites.  

“Do you want me to make you come, Sasuke-kun?” Sakura asks, nails biting into his shoulders.

“Yes,” he groans.

“Like this?”  Sakura asks.

“Gods yes.”  Sasuke’s hand dips between them to strum her clit, his fingers shaking but the pressure firm.  She cries out, tensing around his cock and he moans low into her breast, tongue gliding to leave a glistening streak.

His thrusts are stuttered and uneven, and the sounds he’s making are too.  “Sasuke-kun,” Sakura whines.  It’s not enough and in a fit of need, Sakura forces his chest down with a slap of her palm. She uses the leverage to ride him faster, taking more of him with the wet slap of her rear on his thighs.  

Sasuke comes apart perfectly: an obscene, moaning mess—torso spotted in love bites, arched.  His fingers jerkily clawing at Sakura’s waist, and his eyes glaze back unseeing, all the while she fucks herself on him.  It’s the hottest thing she’s ever seen, and Sakura is mewling from the sight alone.

The movement of her hips taper as she hears him breathe again, the wet look in his eyes almost seeing through her.  She’s about to speak when he sits up and snakes his arm around her.

“I’m taking more,” Sasuke says, voice impossibly low and grained that Sakura isn’t even sure she recognizes it.  He doesn’t give her any more warning before he shucks her off of him, and she far too delirious to even try to stifle the whimper that follows.

He lowers her onto the bed with experienced accuracy, eyes glossy and darting this place and that—her lips, her breasts, her leaking petals.  His hand pushes her knee out and he promptly sinks back inside.  

Sasuke builds his rhythm quick, smacking his hips into hers quick and brutal.   He too easily finds that tender spot inside her and she clenches in a way that has her mewling against his shoulder.

She hooks an ankle around him and tries to ride it out.  They’re moving at his pace now and it’s every bit demanding and Sakura feels every bit unprepared.  Her body is tightening and snapping with every rock, and Sasuke’s lips lower until they’re right against her ear—sounds lewd and overwhelming.  She’s making noises too, and they’re loud enough to echo across the room, but nothing is as deafening as Sasuke’s presence against her, inside her.

He pulls back to watch her then, and Sakura is moaning from the look alone.  Sasuke is staring at her in a way that threatens to take her apart, the blaze of his dōjutsu as erotic as the wet squelch of their hips meeting.  His tongue glides over his bruised lip and he moves back down to kiss her.

Sasuke sighs her name against her lips and the sound drones on and on in Sakura’s mind.  He grounds his cock into her in a way that makes her feel like she might be torn in half and she screams that way too.  Then he does it again and again, swerving his hips as he thrusts and Sakura shatters with a cry.

Strobes of warm and white colors snatch her, blotting out her every thought in vibrant splatters that drip and drip through each valley and crevice.  Sasuke’s breath fans on in the background of her mind, her name on his lips.

Sakura comes back from the gooey haze gradually, her eyes locking onto Sasuke’s, who’s staring at her so fondly she feels her already stilted lungs struggle for another breath. He’s still moving inside her, the pace incredibly lazy, but wonderfully deep.  He lowers his mouth to kiss at a wet trail by her eye, then finds her lips.  Sakura tastes salt.

Sasuke cums inside her with a stutter of his hips and a hitch of his breath.  She runs her fingers through his hair and sucks at his pulse while he rides it out.  It’s not nearly as powerful or drawn out as the first time, but he slumps and sighs against her side after in a way that reeks of satisfaction.  

He’s panting deep, eyes closed as Sakura kneels over him to gently tuck him out of the cock ring. She readjusts the straps of her loosely hanging lingerie, then presses lazy kisses along the spam of him—his hip, his breast, the pulse of his neck.  Sasuke cups her cheek, and she twists her neck to kiss inside his wrist too.

“You came twice,” Sakura says, trying to ignore the tickling sensation of his seed dripping down her thighs.

Sasuke stares down, eyeing a thick, milky dribble before he smears his large hand up her inner thigh, catching the fluid.  He glides all the way up until his fingers are sliding along her wet, swollen seam.

“It was good,” Sasuke answers, nonchalant as ever, strumming her with the same candor.

Sakura’s head bows, thighs squeezing together as his finger strokes a lazy course.  She makes a soft sound of protest, her small fingers curving around his wrist.  He flicks at her oversensitive clit, then dips a single finger inside her deep enough for his knuckles to press against her.  Then he pulls his sticky hand away.  

Sakura tries to regain her senses while Sasuke stares in fascination at the mixture on his hand.  He studies the digit a moment more before dipping it into his mouth.

Sakura blushes to the top of her roots, mouth hanging stupidly as she watches the slow glide of his finger in and out his mouth.  “Did-did you just…?”

Sasuke looks at her, then his hand, wearing a decidedly critical expression.  “I don’t know if it’s the lube or me, but it’s not good.”

Sakura stares, dumbfounded while he wipes his hand on a corner of the comforter.  Then she falls against him, peeling in laughter. “Sasuke-kun, you can be so weird sometimes!”

He grunts from the sudden weight of her, but recovers quick.  He curls his arm around her and presses a firm kiss to the top of her head.  “Shut up,” he says, a smile in his voice.

Sakura grabs his face and kisses his cheek, her thin fingers moving to stroke and rub at his warm skin. She hums contentedly when she finds the steady beat of his heart.  

“Was it good?” She asks, shyly glancing up at him.

Sasuke makes a noncommittal noise, his eyes closing peacefully.  “I said so already, didn’t I?”

“I know, but I mean­—was it too much?”

He huffs.  “No, Sakura.  It was good.”

“You liked it?”

“Yes.”

Sakura smiles slyly, her fingers stroking along his jaw, her eyes watching that soft, well-loved bottom lip. “Say it again,” she demands.

Sasuke opens his eyes for that.  The corner of his mouth peels up into a devious smirk, fine brow quirking in amusement.  

Gods, Sakura thinks, is he beautiful.  

“Insatiable,” he accuses.

Sakura sticks her tongue out playfully, and firmly presses herself to him.  “I’ll wring out every last compliment I can, you stingy asshole.”

Something utterly bright flashes over his expression then, but before Sakura can digest it, he’s kissing her stupid.  

“I loved it,” Sasuke murmurs.  He presses another ardent kiss on her lips, more slow this time, and now she moans.  “And we are definitely doing it again soon.” He pecks her forehead, then leans back, the mattress creaking under his weight.

Satisfied, Sakura hums, and presses her lips over one of the small, red souvenirs on his torso.   “Are you really going to stay in the village for another month?” she asks. “I know…I know how Konoha is for you.  It’s okay if you can’t.”

Sasuke shifts lazily, pulling a pillow under his head, then pulling Sakura closer.  “I was going to anyway.”

Sakura looks up at him and pouts.  “That was cheap.  Does that mean you’ll also buy me sweets and stop traumatizing Konoha’s populace by bickering with Naruto?”

“As long as he doesn’t act like a dumbass.”

Sakura snorts, and starts to adjust the bedsheets over their bodies.  “That’s a no,” she surmises.  Sasuke’s soft, satisfied expression morphs into a smug one, and the haughty look is incriminating enough.

“You know,” Sakura begins, “I didn’t get to top the whole time like we had agreed I would.”

Sasuke hums pleasantly, something seductive and satisfied dwelling in the sound.  “Guess you just can’t keep up with me.”

“O-ho,” Sakura shoots up, crawling over his nude form with playful zeal.  “Are you challenging me, Uchiha Sasuke?”

Sasuke is already smirking up at her, lips tilted in an incredibly dark and sexy leer.  It doesn’t take long before she feels the warmth of his palm cupping between her legs.  His hips shift enough for him to poke against her thigh, and Sakura nearly coos at the press of his want.

“Maybe I am,” Sasuke says, then pushes a finger in deep.

[blackcatanna]

Tales of the Reluctant Kazama Bitch Part 2: Edo Blossoms!

We left our would-be heroine galloping across the country, desperately clinging to the man who's repeatedly threatened to kidnap and impregnate her. However, all of this ickyness is forgotten in the face of a greater threat: her creepy brother and stepdad, who want to turn everyone into shitty vampires.

Chapter 1:

*Sadly scrolls past superior men to get to Kazama's portrait* :'(

If this route contains plenty of free Sen and Kimigiku, I will be less mad at it.

Wait, when you say, "abandon our horse" you are gonna come back for it, right?! RIGHT?!!? O_O

A deserted house, huh? Seems like a great place to have a nap and totally not get murdered by the spirits of the restless undead.

And, of course, Kazama just HAS to take a minute to be a bougie bitch, "Hmph. I would sooner call this a hut than a house."

"Just shut up, and sit tight." Classic Kazama.

Kazama going on about "The destructive force of humans" again -_- Pot kettle black. Bitch.

Wow, the Yukimura clan helped Tokugawa Ieyasu "usurp control of the country with military force." In my head, this takes place in the same universe as the Samurai Warriors series X_X

"You take me for some boorish creep, don't you?" Yes.

"I shall not lay a finger upon you until our marriage is finalized." That's great, provided that I get a say in whether or not we get married!

Amagiri is being helpful and practical and Kazama is just being extremely rude, stubborn and idiotic. X_X

"You'd better not bitch at all, got it?" Um, Kazama, you're the one who bitches about everything. Not me.

"The thought of Kazama rescuing me stood at odds with the initial impression I'd had of him as a crude, sadistic warrior who hated the Shinsengumi." Um, why can't he be all of those things? Just because he's a dick doesn't mean that he's going to let his precious brood mare fall off a cliff!

HAND HOLDING ALERT! THE ORGASMETER IS GOING WILD!!! PHYSICAL CONTACT INITIATED!

Hold up, female demons all have the same stamina as normal humans but males get superhuman endurance?! This is so unfair! -_-

Chapter 2:

Guess I'll never see my beloved Shinsen-gummies again :'(

Here goes Kazama again, shitting on the Shinsengumi for risking their lives because he can't comprehend the idea of anything being worth risking his own precious life.

"Kazama dismissed the Shinsengumi to a degree that I could only describe as willful ignorance." YES GIRL. GET HIM. "I had never met anyone so incapable of empathy." Most sociopaths find it advantageous to at least pretend to empathise with people. I guess when you're an all-powerful demon price, such precautions are needless.

Ooh! Can I please stay at the Shinsengumi's headquarters!

OH SO NOW MY OPINIONS ARE ASININE?!??!!! I THOUGHT THAT THIS HO AGREED WITH ME THAT FURIES ARE BAD!?

Wait, so now I don't want Kazama to kill my family of creeps? Y tho? I love my family but I still wouldn't let them commit stupid genocide. I guess she really believes that she can reason with them. We'll see how that works out.

I am enjoying this slice of Kodo backstory to hammer home how far he has fallen.

FOR FUCK'S SAKE!!! SO, IN THIS ROUTE, KAZAMA HATES HIM SO HE CAN'T PIMP ME OUT TO KAZAMA SO HE WANTS ME TO "MATE WITH" THE FURIES INSTEAD!??!? WTF!?!!

"Bitter, senile idiot" For once, Kazama is right.

Did Kodo just throw me at Kazama?! Stepdad of the year.

"Perhaps I'm being forward, but I see in you the virtues befitting the leader of the Yukimura clan." Stop, stop. My penis can only get so erect.

"You will feel better watching me peel the flesh from their bones with the swing of my sword." O_O Is this Game of Thrones now? Uh, thanks, I guess, for those words of, uh? Comfort?! What girl doesn't want to watch a guy dismember her family!?

Awe, tiny Chizuru's village burning memory :'( My heart! :'(

Shiranui "plopping" himself on the floor is a big mood :')

Nooo! The Shogunate is feeding the Shinsengumi to the furies?! :'(

Spider Kaoru being weird and creepy (literally) as usual.

Ugh, I thought we'd agreed to murder the fam?

Ooh! This house has pretty wallpaper!

Why couldn't Kaoru just live with me and Kodo for all those years?! Did Kodo just hand him over to those abusive fucks because he couldn't be bothered to raise a child who didn't have a precious vagina?

I love the scuttling sound that the minions make when they assemble! :')

Turns out, even Amagiri can't punch a fury to death X_X

DING DONG THE BITCH IS DEAD. Kodo just went so, so evil o_e

I've stopped listening to Kazama whenever he goes off on one of his rants about how all humans suck and are to blame for all of our problems -_-

When the nice music started playing, I expect to see someone I actually liked but it was just Kazama in a new outfit.

CALM DOWN, YOU THIRSTY WENCH! IT'S JUST A NEW OUTFIT X_X

"Quit wallowing in your self-pity for once." Wisdom?! From Kazama?!

"Do you remember the Shinsengumi captain named 'Harada'?" O_O Yes. What happened to him?! IS HE OKAY?!?? DID YOU KILL HIM!!!?!!!!?

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO :'( :'( :'( </3

And so it begins. Hanging out with these fuckers while watching everyone I love die from afar </3

Awe, Shiranui and Harada became buddies <3 and now Shiranui blames his bad luck for Harada's death. :'( It's not your fault, Shiranui D'X

Kazama: "No time for tears." BEGONE, THOT. :'(

Chapter 3:

Bad news, huh? Bad news for me or for you, Kazama? >:(

*Winces in anticipation of more dead Shinsengumi members*

RIP Kondou. You were too wholesome for this cruel world :'(

Welp, looks like I'm chasing my beloved ho's across the country :D

Oh, Kazama thinks that I'm joking about trying to reunite with my long lost friends. You don't KNOOOW me!

"Harada, who was ripped to shreds at Ueno. No one's patting him on the back for dying like a wounded animal." LET ME AT THIS EVIL CUNT!!! HOW DARE HE!!! I JUST WANT TO SEE MY FRIENDS AGAIN!!!! DO YOU NOT POSSESS AN OUNCE OF RESPECT, OR TACT, AT THE VERY LEAST!?!!?

"All they'll ever be is a footnote in the annals of history. Their legacy is being spat on." "Kazama made a lot of sense." BITCH WHERE!!!????!

"I knew women were whimsied by delusion, but you are sitting at the top of the pile." -_- Are all demons this sexist?! I don't think I want to hang out with other demons anymore.

"You should go after him." Amagiri, why?! -_- I don't wanna! Let him stew in his own miserable juices.

He looks like a disgruntled cat.

OH, BITCH EXPECTED ME TO FOLLOW HIM. I should never have listened to Amagiri. He has no eyebrows.

We're in my burned out village, aren't we? :'(

OMG KAORU'S DEAD BODY IS RIGHT THERE O_O

"Why are you crying?" REALLY?!???!

This is v sad :'(

OH CAN YOU SHUT UP ABOUT HOW THE HUMANS ARE TO BLAME FOR EVERYTHING FOR FIVE MINUTES WHILE WE BURY MY BROTHER, WHOM YOU LITERALLY MURDERED. IF YOUR SO POWERFUL, WHY CAN YOU ONLY KILL?! YOU ONLY SAVED ME FOR YOUR OWN DISGUSTING PURPOSES. IF YOU TRULY SAW KAORU'S POTENTIAL TO BE A FINE LEADER, WHY WERE YOU SO QUICK TO KILL HIM?!? HUH!??! D'X

"He died just as he lived--alone" :'(

Kodo absolutely needed a good killing but I believe that Kaoru was redeemable. :'(

WHY ARE YOU ASKING HIS PERMISSION TO REMEMBER YOUR FAMILY THE WAY YOU CHOOSE!?!

"It was never my intention to reveal the history of the Yukimura clan to you." BITCH, WHO ARE YOU TO DENY ME THE HISTORY OF MY OWN CLAN?! >:(

"Impatience is unbecoming" Oh no, heaven forbid you lose interest in me! Not that that would ever happen to this thirsty whore.

"Obedience is a good look on you. You are well on your way to becoming the ideal life." LISTEN HERE YOU SMUG PRICK!!!!!! I WILL DIE BEFORE I EVEN CONSIDER THAT REVOLTING POSSIBILITY!!!!

Here we go, time for an orgy of sadness, courtesy of Amagiri! :(

"Okita has passed away from illness." Not surprising but very, very sad :'( Poor Okita, slowly wasting away while his world falls apart around him </3

Saito's MIA, which doesn't look good but, historically, he was fine so I can handle that, I guess O_O If he is confirmed dead later, imma be real mad. AND SAD. D'X

Nagakura is also MIA?! Big sad </3 I bet that Kazama is secretly loving this >:(

HEISUKE AND SANAN ARE FULLY DEAD!!?? D'X NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO This is too much sad. FFS, KAZAMA, YOU SHOULD HAVE LET ME SEE MY FRIENDS BEFORE THEY WERE ALL KILLED, YOU HEARTLESS WENCH! WAS YOUR PLAN ALL ALONG TO JUST WAIT UNTIL EVERYONE I CARED ABOUT WAD DEAD SO THAT I'D HAVE TO CLING TO YOU!?

"What about the others?" WHAT OTHERS?! Hijikata, Souma, Nomura? Is that it?! My family is DEAD, my friends are DEAD. Kazama doesn't see that as a problem because my fertile body is still intact but MY HEART IS BROKEN D"X

"That little dog's still got some bite, eh?" SHUT UP, JUST SHUT UP.

"Everyone's still putting up a fight, huh" Well, not everyone. Most people are dead but, uh, good on you for seeing this as a glass half full...

Ugh, why does Kazama have to come with me to Ezo?

STOCKHOLM SYNDROME STRIKES AGAIN.

Aaaawwweee Shiranui brought me Harada's spear D'X

Shiranui is so much better and kinder than Kazama :'(

HOW CAN KAZAMA GO THROUGH LIFE BEING SUCH A CUNT AND SCOFFING AT EVERYONE'S SINCERE BELIEFS. No wonder even his allies hate him.

Shiranui, stop with the kind, heartfelt words! You're making me cry D'X

"Shiranui was nowhere near as bad as Kazama" Truth.

"Isn't this just another worm you've let crawl into your insipid heart?" Wow, this route is actually making me like Kazama LESS.

Sendai is pretty.

WE MISSED THEM AGAIN?!!? NOW I'M STUCK ALONE WITH THIS ASSHOLE AGAIN!?!?

Wow, this CG is telling. Chizuru crying against Kazama's turned back.

Chapter 4:

Well, at least I get to stay in a mansion while I cry over my dead friends and family.

Omg, I'm basically Kazama's housewife X_X

Kazama's in a bad mood, huh? Did Hijikata die before Kazama could fulfill his promise to me? Useless man.

OMG, HE REALLY HAS MADE ME HIS WENCH!!! NO!!! DON'T FETCH HIM THE SAKE!!!!

"Fetch me a bottle at once." "I'm only going to grab you one, okay...? Drinking too much isn't good for your health." I'M DEFINITELY HIS WIFE!!! HELP!!!! HIW CAN I WAKE FROM THIS NIGHTMARE??!!

"Sake is more of a medicine than a poison, and as you've noticed, I'm ill. Make it three bottles." Aaaand my husband's an alcoholic X_X

"Hey, don't take your frustrations out on me. Also, it's only a 'medicine' when you drink in moderation--not when you're piss drunk." Yaass Chizuru! You tell that edgy thot!

"Humility is a more attractive colour on you. From now on, feel free to humble yourself by complimenting me however much you deem fit." That would be never. I cannot with This Bitch. Eat shit and die, Kazama.

Okay, now things are really sad. Still chasing my friends as they fight against all the odds D'X

Aaaaaah, the tension is killing me! This is going to be horrible D'X

SHIMADA AND SOUMA ARE ALIVE!!!

"I'm going to kill each and every one of you impotent bastards until there's none left. See you in Hell!" :') I've missed Hijikata!

WHY AM I CHASTISING SOUMA FOR STANDING UP FOR HIMSELF AGAINST KAZAMA!?

Oh great, now we're hunting for Hijikata's corpse. SADNESS INTENSIFIES.

"What about you, girl...?" First of all, SHUT THE FUCK UP. Secondly, the way he addressed me reminds me of my brother XD

ER MAH GERD!!! HE IZ KISSING MEH!!! O_O

"Although I'd wanted to scream, I couldn't." O_e Tha fuck?!?

WITH TONGUE!!!

Final Chapter:

Please let me not be married to Kazama X_X

"I was alone" Good start.

"This incessant urge to clean" Can't relate.

"Sadly, my father passed away." XD

Yaaaas become a doctor! You don't need no man!

However, tell me more about this cute medicine clerk ;)

Speak of the demon X_X

When you get sick of kindly old ladies telling you to find a man so you settle for some dickhead edgelord X_X

"He was his usual, callous self." Husband material X_X

Wait, I've been all alone all this time?! What about Sen?!? Why can I not have friends? :'(

"I've come to claim you." BITCH, I AM A STRONG INDEPENDENT (BUT VERY SAD AND LONELY) WOMAN!

"I will tolerate no resistance" O_O

"Kazama might have been a pain, but he was my pain" Uh, okay XD

So, I guess I do marry Kazama purely because he's the only person left alive who knows what I went through X_X . At least Chizuru developed... Not a backbone but... Almost a backbone. Maybe X_X I'm sure that Chizuru will make a lovely stepford wife but that make me kind of sad -_-

[foxofthedesert]

How to Tame a Siren | A DinahSiren Arrow FF

So, like every other DinahSiren shipper, I loved the scene after Laurel's petition to have Oliver released is denied and Dinah stops her from going after the judge. Dinah has some pretty impressive Siren calming skills, so I wanted to explore that in the setting of an established relationship.

If you’d rather read/comment on AO3, click here.

"Fuck!"

Bursting up from the sofa, Laurel heaves the notepad in her hand clear across the apartment, shouting into the effort with almost enough force to trigger her sonic ability. For what must be the fifteenth time this evening, she had read through an amended opening statement for the trial due to start tomorrow morning only to find it yet again utterly inadequate. Which in turn made her feel inadequate. Which then made her angry.

This trial is by far the most critical of her career. It is make or break stuff, really, of the sort that could catapult her from a zealous state D.A. into the realm of public political stardom. The potential to extend her sphere of influence into the elusive halls of power is too tempting to resist when Mayors, State Reps, and Governors – hell, even a few prominent US Senators – were made from emerging victorious in similarly high profile spectacles. Being District Attorney of a metropolitan area has certainly afforded her a tantalizing sample of what real power tastes like, and she has wantonly indulged herself in the heady flavor, but there is no sense in denying she wants more. The limited prestige of local prominence is not enough. Her desire to join the exclusive ranks of the political elite only intensifies the closer she gets to breaking through the threshold of a ceiling that appears increasingly less impenetrable. Just because she has mostly bottled up her dark side does not mean she has ceded her ambitions. First meta-human President sure does have a nice ring to it, after all.

Since giving up the unrivaled adrenaline rush of hunting down enemies then mercilessly disposing of them, Laurel has needed to focus those chaotic energies into more productive outlets. Joining Oliver's gang of mostly insufferable do-gooders proved an ineffective option, as such selfless service could never satisfy her ferocious, ultra-competitive drive. Oh, she tried suiting up for a while as a means to sate her frequent urges to commit violence, but found it to be at best a stop-gap solution. Fighting did help, and still does, to mollify the malefic creature crawling beneath her skin everyone so lovingly refers to as Black Siren, just not enough.

Sadly prowling the shadowy streets of Star City and pummeling members of the criminal element she once would have casually commiserated with had one glaring flaw: every night when her patrol was done she had to go home and try to stuff Siren back into the little square box labeled: DANGER MONSTER INSIDE, DO NOT OPEN. On a good day of pretending to be someone she isn't, that box barely survives the inexhaustible fury of the prisoner it was specifically constructed to contain.

The only alternative to giving in to the insidious temptation to become Black Siren again was to supplement the lackluster approach of vigilantism by funneling some of that excess energy into her day job. So that's what she has done, having adopted a method of practicing law that mirrors her no-holds-barred approach to fighting. Ruthless, aggressive, largely merciless, occasionally reckless, always a sharpened blade in hand ready to be metaphorically driven home. These were some of the descriptive words and phrases she has heard attributed to her tenure as District Attorney, meant as criticism by her opponents and praise by her supporters. Whether offered as complimentary or disparaging, she embraces them all wholeheartedly. Ultimately she is who she is and forever shall be, only now she focuses on being an edgy, remorseless, vindictive, judgmental, angry person in the courtroom so she can just be Laurel at home.

That said, she would be lying to insist she never wishes to return to the simplicity of Siren's outlook on life. Being a good guy is hella complicated and terribly stressful. There is an undeniable advantage to not giving two shits about anyone other than herself. Doing the right thing is so often thankless and contradictory to her temperament that she suffers from far more anxiety than she ever did causing mayhem whilst arrayed in the signature black leather and fishnets. Some mornings she finds it hard to force herself out the front door of the apartment for the gigantic knot of caustic dread that has taken up residence in her belly. But she has yet to let that irrational angst defeat her, in no small part thanks to the stubbornness that makes her a survivor. That, and there is one very special person for whom she would do almost anything who does not allow her to surrender to her worst characteristics or her very real fears.

On nights like tonight, though, when she is frustrated beyond all reckoning and has been bullied to the bleeding edge of her tolerance with the expectation placed upon her to do things the 'right way,' preventing a full blown Siren-apocalypse tests the limits of her carefully developed self-control. And when she is arguing with herself internally like she is right now? Yeah, that doesn't help at all. Doesn't bode well for her sanity, either.

What the hell are you doing, you deluded moron? The villainous part of Laurel's psyche is being so excessively obnoxious tonight that she is unable to ignore it. You're no Clarence Darrow. Hell, Gomez Addams is more qualified than you are for this shit. You know what that means, don't you? It means you're gonna fuck this up just like you do everything else. It means you're gonna make a fool of yourself in front of some of the most powerful people in the entire country in addition to those sappy morons you've started hanging out with. It also means a killer is gonna walk free. Good thing it would be oh-so-easy to make sure that never happens! Betcha a crisp Nixon or whoever the hell is on a hundred here it wouldn't be hard to intercept prisoner transpo and take care of that problem. Permanently.

"No! I can't. I won't..." Shaking her head frantically, Laurel is as much frustration over her internal dialogue with an imaginary version of her worst self as she is over responding audibly to the obvious goading. Agitated past the point of reason, she begins to pace the area in front of the sofa like a captive tiger whose juicy meal was left just out of reach of her chains. To ward off a total meltdown, she slips into the tried and true method she was taught to master the monster within.

"First," Ollie had told her taking up a very convincing zen pose, "close your eyes and envision a harbor of peace, somewhere you are totally safe. Somewhere you feel secure enough to allow yourself to be vulnerable. A place that you can be your true self, absent of all baggage weighing you down and as in touch with your former innocence as is possible. See it? Good. Now go there. Immerse yourself in your surroundings. Let the familiarity and serenity and warmth seep into your bones and wash away the fear and rage."

That part was always easy enough for Laurel. When she first started training in Oliver's regimen, she used to envision her house on Earth-2 back before her mother miscarried after an accident and her parents started fighting all the time, then divorced a couple years later, and soon after her father crawled head first into the bottle. Back then, she was exactly like every other happy little girl in America. Mommy's angel and Daddy's pride and joy, she was celebrated for her advanced intellect and a gift for language that manifested early alongside a clear affinity for mediation and a prodigious grasp for very vague concepts of justice. She can remember her Mom and Dad playfully arguing about whose footsteps she would follow in. Was she going to become a career academic like her Mom? Or a cop like her Dad? They never could agree. In the end, Laurel landed somewhere between all on her own, not that it mattered when her idyllic life came to a screeching halt not long after her eighth birthday. But the memory of that former happiness was enough to center her in the midst of the storm of unfettered darkness that was Black Siren.

Like Ollie, however, she has since moved on from that initial visualization. Her refuge is no longer a place but a person.

Dinah.

Just the thought of that name creates a puddle of warmth low in Laurel's belly that swirls wonderfully northward. Once reaching her chest, it then spreads into her arms and fingers, which begin to tingle with anticipation that will have to wait til later for fulfillment.

Her eyes slide shut involuntarily as she imagines Dinah in all of her glory – olive skin that is every bit as soft as it looks, thick curly brown hair she envies as much as she loves, entrancing green eyes that reveal the mysteries of the universe to an infinitely curious mind, and sinfully lush lips turned up in a smile only she gets to see. A distinctive smell washes over her as the very human vision of her haven coalesces within the mist of her memory, cherries and the subtle hint of Tom Ford Jasmin Rouge, and it is accompanied by the feel of warm fingers and palms sliding against and caressing the bare flesh of her arms, shoulders, sides, hips, and along the small of her back. Shivering at the ghost of a touch for which she has acquired an insatiable addiction, she also hears a slightly husky yet alluring feminine voice whose dulcet tones are capable of penetrating any resistance constructed by a heart that has been abused so many times there is no reckoning the wounds. That voice – Dinah's unmistakable voice – is telling her to be strong, is encouraging her with reminders of all the good she's done since rejoining the wider world, and comforts her with assurances that she is loved and always will be.

Like the arrival of a gentle morning tide, Laurel feels calm wash over her and her monstrous side recedes a step into the darkness.

"Next," Oliver would say, "concentrate on regulating your breathing and then focus on bringing your heart rate down. Elevated BP and oxygen supply to the brain only fuels the runaway chain chemical reaction going on. Control is what we are after, so strive for it with single-minded tenacity."

Again, easy enough, though primarily thanks to her gorgeous, heroic, compassionate, unshakable anchor – the woman in whom she has learned to trust and for whom she would take on the whole world. Taking slow, deep breaths, Laurel hones in on the sound of her heartbeat and then compares it with the memory of the one steadily beating beneath her ear most nights. That gentle thrumming cadence, so reliable and soothing, is a unique pacifier that has proved a startlingly effective cure to chronic insomnia.

Funny, she never believed books and movies that made romance out into some mythical cure to all the ailments of the human condition. She still doesn't about a lot of it. Not only do her psychological scars preclude her from such vapid sentimentality, experience has taught her that love can often be every bit as destructive as it is some wholesome force with only benevolent intentions and outcomes. There was a time in the not-so-distant past in which love inspired her to commit atrocities she will never atone for or forget, acts of such unfathomable depravity they eat away at her restored conscience to the point she has started wrenching awake from the throes of a vivid nightmare recounting on of them. And in the present, love has yet to cure her infrequent depressive fits any more than it has rid her of the endlessly reoccurring compulsion to murder the terminally moronic legal-lackeys who annoy her on a daily basis. But! She has discovered, to her immense delight, that popular media was right about one thing. It really is so much easier to fall asleep ensconced in the strong arms of the one person she loves more than anything or anyone else while listening to said person's heartbeat.

Unbidden yet beyond her capacity to resist, Laurel's lips quirk up into an amused smile. Felicity was so insufferable when Laurel admitted to Dinah turning her into a cuddle bug because a girl's night ended up with her having too liberally imbibed the delicious spirits served at their favorite 'friend date' haunt. A few other tidbits about herself also slipped free that night. One of them was of a particularly intimate nature and involved a graphic description of her all time favorite taste and smell, which got her into so much fucking trouble less than a week later because Felicity is literally incapable of keeping a secret, especially when in company with one Curtis Holt who has flipped his gossip switch on.

Lord have mercy! But isn't Dinah a splendorous vision when she's royally pissed off.

"Having restored a sense of equilibrium," Oliver would instruct once the first two phases were complete, "carefully corral the monster inside into a place from which it can't escape. There is no other option than compartmentalizing. Believe me, I've tried everything else. Embracing the monster only gives it validation and power over you that you will find nearly impossible to regain. Ignoring it will only feed it's rage. And trying to lock it away forever will only make it all the more vicious and bloodthirsty when it inevitably escapes imprisonment. No, the only way to deal with what people like you and I have to deal with is to control it fanatically. That means intensively training to unleash it with purpose instead of reckless abandon, very much like a weapon, and at all other times strictly segregating it. So put it in a box or toss it in a cage or seal it away in a cell, never lose track of the key, and then keep a close watch on it until the next moment arrives when you need it again.

This is the hardest part. Not because Siren doesn't go into her cage like she's been conditioned to, but because Laurel always feels bad about banishing that part of her into such desolate isolation. Without it, she probably would not have survived the repeated traumas she endured without going batshit insane.

Being Black Siren was not always the study in mustache-twirling villainy as it was when she relocated to this Earth. At first, she was on a crusade to secure righteous retribution for her father and Ollie and all the broken, hapless, vulnerable prey like her who succumbed to one or many of the soulless sharks circling the chummed waters in the wake of a personal tragedy. If only she knew what she does now, that revenge never goes as planned, is never as satisfying as one hopes it will be, and ultimately leads one down a rabbit hole of infinite darkness.

When killing Brett Collins – the drunken bastard responsible for her father's death – didn't quench the hatred that had taken root in her heart, she started hitting the streets on a regular basis. Before long, and with the help of an assassin named Sandra who took an unusual interest in her, she was learning how to fight with more than just her meta ability. Encounters with targets got progressively more out of control until she was not only either putting them in the hospital or the morgue, but she lost her ability to differentiate between just punishment and violence for the sake of personal pleasure. By the time Zoom coerced her into his cohort of meta-terrorists, there wasn't much left of the Laurel who was once the biggest daddies girl to ever live and who would have gladly endured a thousand scourgings or literally ran through fire for her beloved Ollie.

If only she could go back in time and tell her younger self how futile that path was, how empty and deprived of meaning her life became, she could have been spared so much unnecessary pain and so many avoidable stains on her conscience. Sadly, time on goes in one direction unless one is conscripted by an intergalactic agency with honest-to-God H.G. Wells time machines. Sara would not look kindly upon theft of The Waverider, even it was for a very good cause by her sister's doppelganger. Nor is Laurel is inclined to undertake such an endeavor. She has many regrets, far more than she can process at any one time, but the desolate highway of anguish she trod to get to where she is also made her who she is. And while she is not always at peace with the countless sins she has committed and never will be, she is unwilling to give up what she so serendipitously stumbled upon here in the Star City of Earth-1. With Dinah Drake of all people.

Three years ago, she would have laughed until her stomach hurt if someone would have suggested she would refuse to trade the sanctimonious bitch extraordinaire she first met on Lian Yu even if tempted with the opportunity to get either her father or her Ollie back – or both. And yet here she is, confidently acknowledging she would do just that without so much as a twinge of self-recrimination or guilt.

Dinah is, without question, the best thing that has ever happened to her, and there is nothing she won't do to keep from fucking up what they have. She can't say that about anyone else. For Quentin, Laurel had let her true self peek through the curtain of protection over her heart that was Black Siren, was even willing to let that self share the spotlight with her villainous alter ego. But for Dinah, she learned how to put Siren in a gigantic, cold, black box only to ever let her out when she's useful. There are no words to describe how huge a deal taking that leap was for Laurel. No one really would or could understand it except for Dinah and Oliver, both of whom appreciate her sacrifice to varying to degrees.

Oliver has a monster of his own to contend with and, since he agreed to train her how to deal with hers, no longer looks at her with that judgmental loathing and disappointment that once tainted their every interaction. Hell, he has even come to respect her for what she can offer beyond her rival combat skills and vague similarities to the Laurel he lost because he knows her daily struggles better than anyone else. They have developed a tentative friendship that neither are in a rush to experiment with for fear of triggering the other's traumatic memories of lost loved ones that wear their faces. To them, this amiable detente is working wonderfully, therefore it is perfectly sufficient.

Dinah, though...well, Dinah was the first member of the Team Arrow clique to care for the Laurel that is without any ulterior motives underscoring her overtures. It Dinah's unexpected and numerous offerings of support or encouragement that kept Laurel from making some mistakes that might well have re-immersed her in the ocean of hate, bitterness, and rage that was Black Siren. Dinah also had experience with taking out her pain on those who perpetrated it, has spilled blood and killed with her abilities in the pursuit of revenge. One of the people who hurt Dinah the worst was, in fact, Laurel, and that she was able to forgive Laurel for Vinny even a little bit spoke to the absolute strength of her character. A lot of vigilantes squawk about being heroes and set about proving how awesome they are with their fists or guns or knives or bows and arrows. Dinah proved she was a hero by showing compassion to the person for which she had the least reason to do so. To a practiced pessimist like Laurel, that alone made Dinah worth trusting, worth embracing, worth appreciating...worth loving. So when to her shock and inconceivable joy Dinah admitted to returning her seemingly hopeless affections, there was no way in hell she was gonna miss the chance to seize an opportunity she knew instinctively would develop into a once in a lifetime love. And it has been exactly that.

Objectively speaking, Laurel is fully aware she has no right to be as happy as she is. Thing about is she is too happy to care. So what if some of Dinah's friends on Team Arrow still don't trust her. So what if public opinion of their relationship is not always rosy. So what if their problematic history rears its ugly head and they fight like dogs and cats every now and then. So what if the whole fucking world disapproves of what they have. So long as Dinah is healthy and happy, anyone who has a negative opinion about their relationship can take a really short walk off a very tall bridge. Including Siren, who bitches and moans at every opportunity about how soft and pathetic she's become, like she is right now at this very moment. Sometimes Laurel is tempted to consult with Caity Snow about how best to address unwelcome snark from an alter ego. Or a therapist to deal with what might be a serious psychological disorder...

Tough shit, you salty bitch. Time to go back in the hole, Laurel tells Siren as she mentally escorts her darker self, bound hand and foot, to the ebony container she erected in her mind.

Once the beast is safely back in her inescapable box, Laurel returns to the task at hand. This opening statement has to be perfect and by God it will be. She promised a little girl named Susie that the man who took her Mommy and Daddy away would never hurt anyone else ever again. That's a promise she has no intention of breaking. And if successfully prosecuting this case propels her to a notoriety she can advantageously employ to further her career? All the better.

So I'm Meredith Brooks with a functional brain and better hair. Go ahead and sue me. She chuckles under her breath at her own joke.

Determination renewed, Laurel fetches the discarded notepad and deposits herself back on the sofa with renewed purpose. She has an important promise to keep and lofty future prospects to secure. That in mind, she sets about achieving both with a determination that matches the gleam in her eye.

"By the time I'm through, that jury will be eating out of the palm of my hand," she comments to the empty apartment, then begins to read once more

With a sigh of relief, Dinah pushes her key into the lock of her apartment door. God, it's good to be home.

All day long she's been a gigantic ball of stress. Three active, high profile cases have taken up permanent residence on her desk, demanding her attention which is already spread thin. Not only is she having to keep a close eye on the progress being made by six detectives and the entire forensics team, but she is also juggling quarterly performance evaluations on top of the Mayor's request-that-wasn't-a-request to conduct a thorough review of department spending in an effort to streamline the budget. All of that on top of her second job, unpaid by the way, patrolling the streets of Star City as the Black Canary means Dinah is way past due for some down time. Thankfully the end of her current circus act is in sight. An arrest was made today in one of the cases and she signed off on the last of the evaluations. Another two days and the budgetary review will be completed. Once that's done, she intends to take an entire week of vacation and God help anyone who dares to stand in her way.

The only problem with that plan is a certain blonde who has been perhaps the largest drain on Dinah's emotional and psychological reserves. Laurel is under even more pressure than she is, as impossible it seems, and has been working herself stupid since landing the case of the Governor's slain son and daughter-in-law. Dinah can't remember the last time she arrived to what would ordinarily be a relaxing evening at home with her partner of eighteen months.

Normally Laurel would be flitting about the kitchen while doing her best to cook an edible dinner, her golden hair twirled up into a messy bun, dressed in comfy attire like leggings and a loose, off the shoulder sweater or a raggedy old tee. That, or she would be sprawled out on the couch watching MMA or whatever live boxing match might be on, take-out waiting for them both on the dining table. Strangely enough, while Laurel was deadly serious about her job, she is not the type to bring work home with her. This case ended that preferable trend. It has consumed her to a frightening degree. Even when she's at home, her nose is in a law book or she's pouring through case files to find avenues through which to attack the insufferably smug in his wealth and privilege scumbag who – while clearly deranged and guilty as hell – has the best team of defenders dirty money can buy.

To be honest, Dinah is torn between feeling intense pride in Laurel's obsession for justice and a very real concern that said obsession might precipitate a backslide into dangerous habits that don't lead anywhere good. While she has long since forgiven Laurel for what went down with Vince, has even fallen so far beyond head over heels in love with her, a malicious specter lingers upon the horizon. Black Siren, while distant, is forever a threat to the mostly normal and incredibly happy life they have built together. Dinah knows all too well that for people like her and Laurel who have binged upon the sickly sweet delicacies offered by the worst aspects of human nature, succumbing to those old addictions is ever a single taste away.

For the past two weeks she's lain awake in their bed at night until exhaustion finally pulled her under the cresting waves of slumber, unable to fall asleep swiftly as she usually does due to slightly irrational fretting over Laurel's deteriorating mental state. Staring endlessly at Laurel's face, relaxed in repose but still troubled by demons that haunt her dreams, does nothing to quell the creeping panic that seems intent on digging further beneath Dinah's skin with every minute doubt or fear. Never has she been so invested in another person. Not even Vince. And that, more than anything else, is what fuels intense, paranoid fantasies of losing Laurel.

There is no accounting how many times she has conjured up what might happen if a not guilty verdict is returned in this crucial, impending trial. Of how she would be forced to watch Laurel's vibrant olive green eyes turn cold, and of their tense evening at home with all of Dinah's attempts to assuage Laurel's simmering rage failing miserably. Of Laurel eventually tiring of being pawed at and patronized with another you did your best, of her snapping at Dinah and then storming out of their apartment with death emblazoned all over her striking features. Of the morning news reporting the grisly murder of the real estate tycoon recently acquitted of murdering the Governor's son and daughter-in-law. And then the worst part, Laurel sneaking back home the next night, streaks of dried blood staining her blonde mane any ugly rusted shade of red, bags under bloodshot eyes blurry from not having slept on a manic euphoria-induced bender of senseless violence and palpable self-loathing.

Just the thought of anything remotely resembling that scenario coming to pass causes Dinah's stomach to knot with dread like a gnarled tree trunk from some old horror movie. There is little she could conjure up equally as capable of turning her guts into liquid and her heart into a block of burning ice. It is literally the worst possible outcome of this case, one that Dinah does not think she could survive. Losing Vince twice made her say and do and want things she never imagined she could back when she was a young and idealistic Marine. She had thought watching him die as Laurel screamed into his ear was her breaking point. She was wrong. So wrong. Losing Laurel to Black Siren again? That, Dinah thinks, might actually shatter her into so many jagged pieces that a veritable army of puzzle geeks couldn't put her back together.

Imagine then, how quickly panic sets in when she enters their apartment only to find Laurel on the sofa, bent over a notepad on the coffee table, hands tugging at her hair and an ugly sneer marring her pretty lips. After tossing her purse and keys onto the stand next the door, Dinah stalls for a few seconds to gather her courage before risking a breech of the fraught silence.

"Hey..." Dinah winces as much at how tremulous the lame greeting was as at the way Laurel stiffens at hearing it. She berates herself internally, knowing the last thing Laurel needs right now is to hear the doubts regarding her sanity in her girlfriend's voice. After clearing her throat and shaking off the nerves as best she can, Dinah tries again, this time aiming for and successfully achieving a warm concern that any good girlfriend should have upon discovering her partner in such a state. "You okay? You look like you're about ten seconds away from putting Mt. St. Helens to shame."

For a second Laurel just sits there stiff as a board, causing Dinah to hold her breath. She lets it out with a silent prayer of thanks when Laurel heaves a sigh and then runs a shaky hand through her hair.

"It's this fucking case," Laurel says, choice of vocabulary not that surprising. The more stressed – or aroused – she gets, the more f-bombs she drops. "And this fucking opening statement." She gestures wildly toward the notepad as if it were a criminal on trial for felonious assault. "It's just...it's complete and utter dogshit. Patrick Star could construct a better, more persuasive argument. This is the biggest trial of my fucking career and I can't even write an opening statement that would convince a fucking six year old that peas are nasty shit and ice cream is delicious angel food. And I'm just so fucking frustrated and..."

Trailing off, Laurel growls, then sighs again before finally shifting so she can look at Dinah. There is a liquid desperation in her eyes that reveals how close to the edge she is currently teetering.

"I'm at my wits end here, Dinah. I cannot afford to fuck this up. My entire fucking future is riding on the outcome of this case. The Governor has been watching my every move, breathing down my neck twenty-four seven, pressuring me to deliver on this with an unspoken or else hanging over my head like a fucking Damoclean Sword of political homicide. Not only that, but I have an opportunity to really put myself out there, you know? Everyone knows me as Laurel Lance, back from the dead, used to be the Black Fucking Canary or Laurel Lance the unerring crusader for justice. But you know what? I have ambitions. I have aspirations. I'm not that meek Laurel that derived genuine satisfaction putting bad guys behind bars. You know that better than anyone.

"I need challenges, I need high stakes to survive. I can't do mundane, Dinah. I just can't. I like the limelight. I thrive in it. It's exciting and addictive and I'm not ready to fade into obscurity. I don't want to just be a D.A. for a couple more terms and then slink into private practice with my tail between my legs. I want more. I wanna shoot for the stars, 'cause otherwise what's the fucking point? And this case? This is my chance to do that. To make a name for myself in influential circles beyond Star City. Beyond California, even! People in D.C. are following this case. Did you know that? And yet as with everything else, I'm fixing prove to them that I'm nothing but a gargantuan fucking failure. Fuck!"

That last exclamation is punctuated by a fist slamming so forcefully into the dense oak coffee table all of the knickknacks on it clatter and shuffle or are knocked off entirely.

For a second, Dinah just stares at Laurel, a bit flabbergasted at that tirade. All of it, not just the abuse of the table. She's always known a quiet life was not in the cards so long as they are together. Laurel was right about that. There is no getting around who Laurel is as a person. She is as she said. An ambitious daredevil who loves the spotlight and craves the trappings of power. Turning over a newish leaf has not changed those aspects of her character, which is perfectly fine with Dinah. She loves Laurel exactly as she is. It's just...well, she never quite connected those traits to a desire for a political career, and that's exactly what the subtext indicated. Maybe she simply never wanted to. Being the partner of a city councilwoman at most was all she really envisioned.

Now that she's been clued in that Laurel is aiming higher, way higher if her ability to read Laurel is a reliable judge, she finds herself surprisingly willing to make some concessions to help facilitate her partner's so-called aspirations. Is it ideal for her to put their private life up for even more public consumption than it already is? No, not really. But if that's what she has to do to accommodate Laurel's professional ambitions, then she is up for giving it a try. That isn't to say it will work. There is every chance putting their relationship under a microscope will signify impending doom. However, there is also a chance that in helping Laurel spread her wings and fly, she'll discover something new about herself as well. And that is an exciting prospect for someone who is also known for pushing boundaries. The leaps from farm girl to Marine to cop to Black Canary have all been pretty spectacular. So what's one more?

First Lady of California does sound kinda nice.

"Are you just gonna stand there and stare at me? Did I finally scare some sense into you?"

Startled out of her thoughts, Dinah returns her focus to Laurel, whose brows are drawn in tightly and whose lips are pursed in that moody way no one else can accurately replicate. She hadn't meant to leave Laurel hanging, and evidently Laurel took it the wrong way.

Recognizing this moment as critical, Dinah springs into action. "No, no," she says, moving as she talks. "I was just a little stunned by that...outburst. I'm actually kinda glad you got all that out in the open instead of dwelling upon it until it ate you alive. Just...look, I know you're upset, but there's really no need to take it out on the furniture. I assure you, Counselor, the coffee table is innocent."

Ignoring Laurel's scoff, Dinah strides over to the sofa where she approaches danger without a second thought. Three years ago she would never have been so bold seeing as this Laurel Lance is a tempestuous woman by any conceivable standard of comparison. At least once every couple of weeks, at minimum on a monthly basis, Laurel summons up potentially catastrophic hurricanes, which if left to their devices would plow through their relationship with all the tact and delicacy of an irate bull in a china shop. Thankfully by now Dinah has plenty of experience dealing with them. Her ability to forecast Laurel's moods is legendary, and as for actually dealing with them? Well, their friends don't call her the Siren Whisperer for nothing…

Once at the arm of the couch, she bends over to reach for Laurel's hand. Expecting resistance, she is pleasantly surprised when her girlfriend responds positively by taking her hand and lacing their fingers together.

"C'mere for a sec," Dinah says, tugging on Laurel's hand. When Laurel does not obey, she tries again with a bit more force, then adds, "Opening statements can wait, Miss Lance. Right now there is an amazing, loving, and extraordinarily patient girlfriend in dire need of a hug that she happens to think will be mutually beneficial. Perhaps we can have a sidebar to address that very critical and time sensitive matter."

A crack in Laurel's foul mood appears in the form of one corner of her lips quirking up. "Going to shamelessly manipulate me with flowery legalese are you?"

Dinah smirks. "Depends. Is it working?"

Shaking her head, Laurel chuckles. A second later, she pushes off the couch to stand. "Always does," she says, and when pulled close, melts into Dinah's waiting embrace.

For the longest time they just stand there in their living room holding each other, gently swaying to the melody of an important song that Dinah hums for both of their enjoyment. Slowly but surely the coil of irritation and rage that was Laurel unfurls until she is pliant and relaxed and fully ensconced in the heady atmosphere of their love. As sense and control return to Laurel, neither are in a hurry to escape the cocoon of warmth surrounding them, so they remain locked together, indulging in the sensation of their bodies in full contact from hips to shoulders, reveling in one another's scent, hands exploring fit frames both over and under items of clothing, all the while exchanging languid kisses or foreheads resting together as they stare at one other with indescribable adoration and devotion on full display.

This is one of Dinah's favorite things to do – just be with the woman she loves in her arms as every last one of her cares fades away into the background. Her buddies in the Marines always used to affectionately tease her about being so touchy-feely with her romantic partners. Said that real Marines stormed the beaches, fought like devils, then extracted with all due diligence. Of course, they were just breaking her balls, as most of them were unarguably whipped, but she never did escape their nickname for her: Huggy Bear. The label didn't bother Dinah. On the contrary, she wore it with pride. In the field, she was all Marine but at home she was all woman. Those that love her understand and accept the dichotomy. Still do.

Laurel took a while to adjust, having never been the cuddly type, but she has since been at least partially converted to Dinah's soft approach to romance. Which is great because now Dinah can throw on some sultry jazz whenever she's in the mood and drag Laurel into the living room to slow dance to Etta James's sultry crooning, Miles Davis' soulful trumpeting, or Charlie Parker's impassioned saxophone until their feet and legs ache. There are also times just like this when both are content to dwell inside the warm bubble of their love without a care for anything or anyone else. Enveloped by Laurel's smell, remnants of hazelnut coffee on her breath and the gentle fragrant spice of her perfume, and blanketed by the love pouring out from Laurel through her eyes and lips and fingertips, the entire world could go up in flames and Dinah couldn't be bothered to give a damn. This is her heaven, and it if were up to her she would never leave it.

But as Solomon so wisely wrote many thousands of years ago, there is a time for everything under heaven to end. As comfy and happy as she is right now, the reason she initiated this embrace remains an elephant in the room that must be addressed. She can't let Laurel go on like this or the next time she might come home to a trashed apartment. Or worse.

Breaking away from Laurel, albeit reluctantly, Dinah maneuvers them both back to the couch. After seating herself, she encourages Laurel to join her.

"Guess there's no getting out of talking it through this time, huh?" Laurel asks, looking embarrassed and at the same time afraid. Not of Dinah, but of herself, how she has been reacting to this case, and at how she has been wriggling her way out of talking out her issues with Dinah at every turn. The time for deflections and avoidance is over. For them both.

"Afraid not, babe," Dinah says, then pats Laurel's hand comfortingly. "This case has been eating you up. You're irritable – well more irritable than usual –" that earns her a glare, "and it isn't just because of your career being on the line. By the way, I just want to say, I didn't know you had your sights set on climbing the ladder so high. But if that's what you want, I'm with you. A hundred percent."

"Really?"

Laurel sounds as surprised as she looks when she shouldn't. Dinah has been nothing but supportive of her career. As a woman in a profession even more male-oriented than practicing public law, she is well versed in navigating the unfair hardships of gender inequality in the workplace as well as the complex social webs that spring up in a mixed gender environment. Granted, being a Marine more than prepared her for the culture shock of being an ambitious woman in primarily male dominated profession, but that isn't to say it was always easy. More than a few hateful pricks and handsy sleazeballs had to learn the hard way that she doesn't take shit from anyone, no matter how large and in charge they may be. While Laurel's venture as D.A. has been far less problematic on that front, the trauma she experienced at the whims of abusive men before assuming Earth-1 Laurel's life made Dinah's pre-cop days seem like a picnic. For both that reason and her own experiences in the workplace, she would never stand in the way of Laurel's dreams. And that wasn't taking into consideration the more simple motive for her support, that she loves Laurel and only wants the best for her.

So, Dinah is a tad bit offended that Laurel might have assumed she would throw a hissy fit or something after learning about her ambitions. That said, she abstains from making a scene over it since she can't deny she has only really been supportive of Laurel's current career track. They have yet to discuss at any length about where they want to be professionally five or ten years down the road. If this conversation is any indication, they should do so before long.

There is only one major reason Dinah can think of off the top of her head as to why they haven't broached the matter, namely Laurel's reticence to discuss where their relationship is headed. God knows Laurel has been let down and betrayed and burned by love too many times to allow herself the luxury of dreaming of a future outside of fighting for her survival. So it isn't a big shock that she doesn't seem to be operating with an end goal in sight as far as their relationship is concerned.

Dinah, on the other hand, has stubbornly clung to her idealistic vision of the future, so she knows where she wants it to be heading. But a relationship is a two-way street that she cannot navigate solo. Before long, she needs to figure out where Laurel stands as far as what she ultimately wants out of this relationship. Otherwise what are they doing? Spinning their wheels. That's what.

"Of course," Dinah finally answers aloud, careful to keep any offense from slipping into her tone. "I love you. I want you to be happy, and not just with our home life. It's just as important to me that you're being fulfilled by your job. Do you believe that?"

For a second Laurel stares at her in disbelief that is quickly banished by awe. "Yeah..." Her response is whispered so low that it is barely audible, so when Dinah arches a brow indicating she requires clarification, Laurel obliges. "Yes, I believe you. Thank you. That...hearing you say that means more to me than I can really explain."

Dinah doesn't agree. She thinks Laurel is perfectly capable of explaining it, but is merely too stubborn and prideful to admit she derives pleasure from receiving Dinah's validation. Why Laurel is so reluctant to confess to such when she has no trouble doing so in the bedroom is a minor inconvenience Dinah has yet to resolve. She is making observable progress, though!

"Oh, I think I have pretty good idea," she says, unwilling to press that particular issue at present when there are other things to address. "But that's not important right now. What's important right now is why you're all twisted up about this case. I've not seen you like this in a long time, and I have to admit it scares me."

Laurel sighs in frustration then pinches the bridge of her nose before responding. "I'm sorry about that. I never want to scare you. You know that, right?"

"Of course I do. That's why it's scary. If you're not trying to do it, it means something is really wrong. So what is it?"

Another sigh, this one more plaintive and hesitant. "It's about Susie."

"The Ingrams' daughter that was hiding under her bed while her parents were being slaughtered in the next room?"

Dinah will never forget walking into the apartment and seeing that trembling child sandwiched between two detectives who were trying to take her statement. As Captain, she had responded personally to the murder of two prominent members of Star City's upper crust, a family with links that stretched the breadth of the country all the way into the D.C. establishment. The last thing she expected was to be forced to attempt extracting vital information about the crime from a terrified, traumatized seven year old. She didn't make much headway at all, nor did anyone else who tried, before ordering everyone to leave the girl alone until Child Services arrived. And then Laurel waltzed in and everything changed.

"That's her," Laurel says, visage regaining a semblance of vitality as she talks about little Susan Ingram. "Remember I had to interview her a couple times right after the incident and she, uh...weirdly took a shine to me? And how she wasn't really talking to anybody else, so guess who got to spend bunches of quality time with her?"

Dinah smiles, remembering how Susie would cling to Laurel's leg or hand and would never stray much more than a couple steps from the woman who apparently reminded her a lot of her mother. It was half adorable and half amusing watching Laurel discreetly flail for balance at being the sole recipient of a traumatized child's trust.

"Sure. You acted all put out about it but secretly you fell in love with that little girl just like everybody else did. Me included." And that much was undeniably true. When Laurel informed Susie that Dinah was her girlfriend, it was as if she was suddenly inducted into the club. After that, she was present – as was Laurel – at every last one of Susie's official interviews about her parents' deaths. It was impossible not to love a child who could melt through Laurel Lance's sturdy defenses with such breathtaking ease and speed.

"Yeah...well," Laurel winces subtly, "I may have told her about losing my dad and then given her my word I would make sure the man that took her mom and dad away would never walk the streets again." She pauses then, her eyes misting up as she searches for something from Dinah that she is apparently having trouble finding. "Did I lie to her, Dinah? Am I gonna break that little girl's heart? Am I gonna be responsible for sending her into a death spiral like what happened to me after my dad's killer went free? Am I going to turn that precious, innocent child into me? A broken, deranged killer with no conscience."

Her own heart breaking for Laurel and Susie, Dinah shifts on the sofa, angling in toward Laurel so that their knees are touching. She adds her other hand to where she's holding on to Laurel's, one clasping the underside of Laurel's wrist while the other palms the top of her hand.

"Baby, no. First of all, you aren't broken or deranged, and you most certainly have a conscience. You wouldn't care what happens to Susie otherwise. Secondly, I don't believe for a single second that you will let her down. You're going to win this case and give her and her parents the justice they deserve. I know it."

Doubt and self-recrimination marring her features, Laurel pulls her hands away to run them fretfully through her hair. "How? How can you be so confident when I'm not?"

Absently, Dinah reaches out to tuck a strand of loose hair behind Laurel's ear. "'Cause I know you. Sometimes I think better than you know yourself. And I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Laurel Lance does not make empty promises."

"Maybe you'll change your mind after you read my opening statement," Laurel replies, then groans miserably. "It's really bad..."

"Doubtful. I've always thought you have a unique way with words. Most juries you've addressed seem to have agreed with me." Smiling, Dinah nudges Laurel's shoulder then gestures toward the offending notepad that seems to be the subject of ninety percent of Laurel's ire. "But I know better than to marginalize your concerns, so let's see it. And before you object due to my blatant conflict of interest, I'll be as unbiased as I can. Sound fair?"

With a drawn out sigh, Laurel returns a hesitant nod. "Yeah. Okay. But only because I trust you won't blow smoke up my ass." She then retrieves the notepad and extends it toward Dinah with a slightly unsteady hand.

Reminded of how critical it is to give an honest opinion without being unduly harsh, something she has become adept at living with a woman whose temper frequently has a hair trigger, Dinah respectfully accepts the notepad. "I won't," she says. "I promise." And then, when Laurel settles back into the cushions, legs crossed and arms folded over her chest, she begins to read.

From the first word, it was clear Laurel's stressing was for nothing. The rest of the opening statement does nothing to contradict that assessment. It is, in her opinion, an incredible speech worthy of being represented upon the silver screen.

"Laurel...this is amazing," she croons after finishing the captivating read. Unsurprisingly, Laurel glares at her dubiously. "Seriously! I'm not trying to spare your feelings because I love you. I actually think it's perfect."

Laurel huffs, stubbornly refusing to accept the praise – which is fairly typical, albeit less so now than when they first started dating. "You said it before. You're biased."

"Obviously. But that doesn't mean I can't recognize a winning argument. I've sat through my fair share of trials, and heard a lot of opening statements. And this?" Dinah brandishes the notepad as if it were the smoking gun in her case to prove Laurel is overreacting. "This is so, so good. But..." tossing the notepad back onto the coffee table, she retakes Laurel's hand, "if you're still not happy with it, tell me what you think is wrong. Maybe articulating your concerns and then tossing ideas back and forth will help work out the kinks."

That perks Laurel up. "You sure? I know we haven't had dinner yet..."

"Not a problem," Dinah says confidently. "I'll call in for Thai and have it delivered. We can work til it gets here. Sound good?"

"No. It sounds...wonderful." Silence stretches out between them as Laurel worships Dinah with her eyes as if seeing her for the first time all over again. The heated gaze of those electric green irises elicits a delicious shiver that corkscrews down Dinah's spine. "Damn," Laurel says after completing her languid study, strangely enough voicing Dinah's own thoughts. "I really am the world's luckiest bitch. 'Cause you are the best girlfriend in history." Full lips quirk up at one corner. "If I was as smart as I say I am, I probably ought to listen to Felicity, stop beating around the bush and wife you up."

The trailing comment, out of left field as it is, does not even phase Dinah. Truth be told, she's been fantasizing about taking their relationship to the next level for a while now. There is little else she wants more in the world than to become Mrs. Laurel Lance.

"Amen, babe. From your lips to God's ears," she replies enthusiastically, catching Laurel completely off guard.

"Are you...actually being serious?" Laurel responds, visibly shaken, waves of insecurity pouring off her. "You'd really…? I mean, you wanna…? You would...to me?"

"Laurel. Jesus." Ashamed of herself for leaving any room for doubt, Dinah heaves a self-recriminatory sigh as she scrubs a hand over her face. "I guess I have to work on my communication skills as much as you do, because of course I do." Deciding that there is no time like the present to get started on that noble goal, she gently squeezes Laurel's hand, willing her to understand just how much she really does want to get married. "I've been thinking about it for so long I already have a million ideas about bridesmaid dresses and venues and catering options." When Laurel's eyes widen comically, Dinah realizes how that might sound like an actual proposal. Chuckling, she shakes her head lightly, "Don't freak out, babe. I'm not asking right now. I'm afraid with me being a traditional girl I am in the romance department, that particular ball is in your court. That being said, at least now you know what my answer will be."

Another briefer silence descends, during which Laurel stares at Dinah in utter amazement and worries at her bottom lip. "By chance, is it the same answer you'd give if I asked you for a kiss?" she asks after a few seconds of waging an internal battle with a part of herself Dinah can already guess is making a fuss out of this.

No doubt it will not be the last time Laurel's dark side has cause or opportunity to undermine the direction their relationship will hopefully be taking – and very soon if Dinah has any say in the matter.

Dinah's answering smile is as much to tease as it is an invitation. "I don't know, Miss Lance. Why don't you woman up and find out."

"Oooo. A challenge. I likey. Alright. So..." Without prompting, Laurel fluidly slides off the couch and onto her knees. Once situated between Dinah's knees, she offers her hands palm up. And when Dinah slides her hands into Laurel's, those mesmerizing green eyes begin to dance. "Dinah Miriam Drake," Laurel says, all formal and serious yet with the stirrings of an indescribable passion and devotion underscored by a hint of playful affection. "Will you do me the extraordinary privilege of allowing me to kiss you?"

Tears well up in Dinah's eyes at the subtext to a query that was clearly a test run for a much more important one to come. Barely able to contain her urge to jump Laurel's bones on the spot and with her heart soaring through clouds of pure saccharine joy, she smiles. This is the easiest question she has ever been asked. Or at least it will be until she gets asked that other one. Doesn't matter, though. To both, her answer is the same.

"Yes."

[angelrider13]

KHR: It’s Not the Load That Breaks You (It’s the Way You Carry It)

Chapter: 2/?

AO3 | FF | Master Fic List

Yuni quietly opens the door to her mother’s bedroom, closing it softly behind her, and walking silently across the floor to the bed.

She carefully sets the wooden box in her hands down on the nightstand, not letting it make a sound. The sleeping medicine she’d slipped into everyone’s drinks at dinner is effective, but she doesn’t want to take any chances.

Climbing into the bed without shaking it is a challenge she doesn’t manage and she curses silently at her tiny form. She can definitely appreciate what the other Arcobaleno went through on a whole new level, but she pushes that thought aside. She’ll have time for it later.

For a long moment, Yuni can’t do much else but stare at her mother’s sleeping form, drinking her in. Aria had died when she as only fourteen, passing on the Sky Pacifier to her only child just before her death. Part of Yuni wants to toss the whole plan and just curl up with her mother like the child she suddenly is.

But she can’t.

With a shaky breath, she takes her mother’s hand and carefully tugs the Mare Sky Ring off her finger. Reaching to open the wooden box, she places the Ring with the rest of its Set that she’d collected before coming here.

Now for the hard part.

Calling her Flames to her fingertips, Yuni cups the Sky Pacifier in his palms. She feels a familiar tug in her core and the Pacifier begins to glow softly. Yuni had been the bearer of the Pacifier for years. She’d supported the Tri-ni-Set for over a decade and that leaves a mark. The Pacifier recognizes her. But it’s can’t have two bearers.

Yuni grits her teeth as she forcibly stops it from withdrawing from Aria’s Flames and latching onto hers. Such a sudden separation would result in her mother’s death and that is something she does not want. Slowly, carefully, she untangles the threads of Flame the Pacifier has woven into her mother’s Flames, leaving behind threads of her own Flames to replace them.

When she’s finished, she’s sweaty and out of breath and there is the familiar weight of the Sky across her shoulders. But her mother sleeps on even as the Sky Pacifier now rests in her hands.

Yuni takes a deep breath and releases it slowly, curling the Pacifier close to her chest.  It’s done. The burden is hers again. Leaning down, she presses a light kiss to her mother’s cheek, then slides off the bed and grabs the wooden box, leaving a letter in its place, before heading for the door.

She pauses at the threshold and glances back. She mother is silent and still, her breathing even. She’s alive and free and Yuni has only ever wanted the world for her.

“Goodbye, Mother,” she whispers.

She leaves the room, the door closing soundlessly behind her.

Tsuna is freezing.

He’d forgotten how it felt to have his Flames sealed. His mother has been throwing him concerned looks all morning since he walked downstairs in three sweaters and a scarf. In the middle of summer. Luckily, it is summer vacation, so he has some time to get himself under control. Which is easier said than done.

He knows why Nono sealed his flames, understands the reasons. But knowing what he knows now, about Flames in general, about his own Flames personally, he can’t believe this was done to him. He feels so empty. Like a part of him is missing – a very large part – and all that’s been left in its place is a dark, gaping, freezing void. His body feels awkward, like it’s ten sizes too small, and it doesn’t move the way he wants it to, as if there is some kind of disconnect between his brain and his body.

He’d never noticed this the first time around.

Then again, growing up not knowing anything else would do that, he thinks wryly.

He’s currently sprawled out in the backyard, sweaters and all, soaking up as much sunlight as he can in an effort to warm up. His fingers and toes still feel numb. He wants to groan in frustration, but he doesn’t. He closes his eyes and evens out his breathing and sinks into meditation like Reborn taught him to so long ago.

In the beginning, Reborn had already cracked the seal, so there was a spark that Tsuna could follow. Now, there is nothing, so Tsuna dives into the void. He wanders through his own mind, through empty space, pulling, calling, tugging, watching and listening for any kind of reaction. He walks for what seems like hours.

Eventually, he stumbles upon a wall.

A wall that looks suspiciously like Zero Point Breakthrough.

Tsuna narrows his eyes and places a hand on the wall. He can feel Nono’s Flames within it and the faintest echo of his own Sky beyond it. Brow furrowing, he reaches out towards that echo, trying to cox it out.

He feels the moment Nono’s seal rebels.

Something clamps down on his Flames and they screech, writhing, trying to escape, to reach him. Tsuna grits his teeth and pushes against the wall, cracks forming against the ice.

It hurts.

It hurts far more than he was expecting it to and he’s thrown out of his meditative state.

Tsuna blinks up at the sky, head pounding, jaw aching like he’s been clenching his teeth for far too long. He’s still cold and when he reaches for his Flames, there is still nothing but a void.

“Huh,” he says blearily, “This could be a problem.”

Byakuran hums softly to himself as he reclines in a tree.

He’s somewhere in the woods behind the Giglio Nero mansion, near one of the exits to the secret passages that run under it, waiting. It’s a quiet night, the silence almost stifling after being surrounded by constant noise for years. He relishes it because it makes this more real.

Sneaking away was ridiculously easy. Physically, he’s thirteen, but he feels so much older and slipping out of Gesso territory without getting caught was child’s play. Out of all of them, his Famiglia is the one they are most likely to keep ties with even though it’s small and relatively unknown at this point in time. He is, technically, the Boss already; his father having passed away when he was a child and his mother in ill health. So instead of cutting and running, he’d left a specific set of instructions with his caretaker – his mother’s Rain Guardian.

This leaves him both free to act and to maintain the Gesso. He’ll have to set up a firmer framework for it once they reach Tsuna, but this will do for the moment.

Now, he just has to collect Yuni and –

Speaking of.

He glances down just in time to see Yuni crawling through some tree roots.

She’s small, is the first thought that crosses his mind. He’d known that, of course. Planning on going this far back, with Yuni being the youngest of them, she’d be little more than a child. It’s one thing, though, to know it intellectually and to see it as a reality. She’d been a child when they first met, technically, but now, she doesn’t even reach his waist.

Her clothes aren’t exactly practical – a forest green dress with birds and flowers embroidered around the edge and a pair of soft, brown boots with shallow heels – though considering how tiny she is, he doubts that she’s got that much to choose from. She has a backpack and a messenger bag with her and both look filled to the brim.

He hops down from his perch just as she’s pulled herself free.

“Well, hello, little Sky~,” he purrs, “Fancy meeting you here.”

Yuni spins at the sound of his voice, a smile lighting up her face that he only has a second to enjoy before she’s throwing herself into his arms.

“Byakuran! You’re here!”

He laughs softly. “You say that like I’d be somewhere else.”

She pulls back and rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

He grins at her, bright and innocent. A flash of orange catches his eye and he looks down to see the Sky Pacifier resting against Yuni’s chest, held in place with a pale orange ribbon. He reaches out and lightly taps a fingertip against the glassy surface.

“Yours again, hm?”

Yuni gives him a sad, understanding smile, and then reaches into her messenger and pulls out a wooden box. She holds it out to him and Byakuran can feel the weight of the moment. Sure enough, when he opens the box, the Mare Rings gleam up at him.

He smiles the same sad smile Yuni gave him. The Sky Mare Ring is a familiar weight on his finger and he can hear whispers in the back of his mind again.

“I’m sorry,” Yuni says, with sad, sad eyes.

Byakuran smiles and presses a kiss to her forehead. “Don’t be silly, Yuni. This Ring has always been mine.” He holds out a hand to her, the box with the Mare Rings held in the other. “Shall we go? I believe we have some errands to run?”

Yuni smiles, this one bright and anticipatory, and takes his hand. “We do!” she chirps.

“Off we go then~!”

[ellanainthetardis]

Some quality time and a small time jump today! I hope you enjoy it! Let me know your thoughts!

(ff] or {ao3]

76. 2 Years & 1 Year

“All pwetty.” April declared with obvious satisfaction.

Effie bit back her smile and kept toweling off the dog they had just bathed. Snowball wasn’t entirely happy with the treatment but he was used to being washed and he obediently sat there while she rubbed him dry, only flopping to the floor with something akin to a sigh when he saw her grab the purple hairbrush.

“Me too!” her daughter demanded and Effie wordlessly handed her a toy hairbrush that she enthusiastically ran through the dog’s fur in the very same spot.

They were sitting cross-legged on the bathroom’s floor, the dog lying between them on a couple of big towels…

Effie watched April while she brushed the dog’s fur, smiling at how big her daughter had grown. She was more a toddler than a baby now and it was… bittersweet. Aidan too was slowly leaving the baby phase behind and it felt a little odd not to be woken up every night by hungry cries.

The last two years and a half had been… Well, frankly, they had been exhausting.

But Effie wouldn’t have changed a single thing.

Once the dog’s fur was brushed to her satisfaction, she grabbed the hairdryer and finished the job, sometimes playfully directing the hot hair at her daughter just to see her laugh and squeal.

“Here you are, my pretty baby.” she cooed once she had put it down. “Isn’t it better?”

“All pwetty!” April insisted, wrapping her tiny arms around the dog’s neck and burying her face in his fur.

“Does he smell good?” Effie asked with a  smile.

“Uh, uh.” the girl nodded and then laughed when Snowball licked her cheek.

The dog soon ran away though, used to being pampered but never entirely happy with his fate. Effie was sure she would find him curled up in his bed, chewing on his monkey. April pouted at his hasty departure.

“Shall we go see what Papa and Aidan are up to?” she suggested, lifting her up. She propped her on her hip with the ease of habit and quickly rinsed the bathtub before tossing the damp towels in the hamper.

Haymitch and Aidan weren’t difficult to locate given the delighted squeals coming from the nursery.

“Chou-chou!” Haymitch was making a big plastic red train roll around the nursery’s floor while Aidan laughed. The game apparently consisted in trying to make Aidan’s favorite stuffed giraffe hold on the train but gravity and the fact that the giraffe was far too big for the plastic train made it fall to the floor in seconds. Not that it seemed to disturb the boy. He simply tried again. Aidan was nothing but determined.

April struggled in her arms so she placed her down, smiling at Haymitch when he looked up at her, eyes twinkling in amusement. “Wanna join, sweetheart? You can be the sexy stewardess.”

April had already crawled closer to grab a yellow plastic car and make it roll around. Effie sat next to her and grabbed a stuffed bear, playfully making it attack both of their children in turn. Everyone was having a grand time but, she suspected, Haymitch was the one having the most fun. He loved playing with the kids.

“By the way, I forgot, there’s an envelope in the mail for you.” he said suddenly, after a few minutes. He wrinkled his nose. “From Leo’s office.”

“Oh.” she breathed out and, after a hasty kiss on Aidan’s head and another one on April’s, she stood up. “I should go check.”

He nodded, still a bit reserved on that subject.

Paylor had eventually won the election by a comfortable margin but their relationship with Plutarch – and by extension the President – was still frosty. The fact that Leo had gone poking around hadn’t helped but, as she had let herself been convinced by her now officially brother-in-law and her father, she was entitled to some compensation. As Leo had theorized, the government had shied away from a big trial and had agreed to come to an agreement. It would remain secret – so much for Paylor’s transparency policy – and the exact amount that would be given back to her had still been in the air the last time she had talked to Leo. Given that he and Lyssa had gone on a honeymoon in Four, it had been a good month ago.

She pressed a kiss on Haymitch’s lips on her way out of the room, brushing her fingers against his cheek in an apologetic caress. She knew he didn’t like being at odds with Paylor and she knew he disapproved but… It was her money, not all of it had come from the Games, and… The rebels hadn’t exactly treated her right to begin with so…

She sauntered to the kitchen, rummaged through the mail piled on the dresser – and cringed at the state the room was in because with two small children the house really wasn’t up to her standards anymore – and eventually located the thick manila envelope with her name on it.

There were quite a lot of documents inside, as well as a letter from Leo’s assistant and helpful pink post-it notes where she was supposed to sign. She felt the need to sit down when she realized this was it. It had taken months – and they had been lucky because a trial would have probably taken years – but it was over. She only had to sign and she would be given back a part of her estate.

She flicked through the pages until she found the amount in question and she bit down on her bottom lip, her heart racing in her chest.

It was barely half of the total value of what had been seized by the government and Leo’s fees would make a dent even with the family discount he had offered but… there was still enough left to be considered a small fortune. She could pay back Haymitch, put aside enough money that their children would never want for anything, and she could probably even open her shop if she so wanted.

It was… a lot to take in.

Haymitch had money and she had never wanted for anything while living with him but she still had felt poor, dependent on him, and now… Now she was free again. Not that she was ungrateful or that she wanted to leave but she was always been a very independent person and…

The noise of a heavy man and two unruly children coming down the stairs brought her back to the present and she grabbed a pen, diligently signing where the pink post-it notes deemed it necessary. She would have to go to the post office and send the papers back that afternoon.

April was swinging from Haymitch’s arm in a weird monkey game when he stepped in the room, Aidan more safely nestled in the crook of his arm. The boy was sucking on his thumb, the now worn out giraffe hugged close to his chest.

Haymitch’s grey eyes fell on the papers in front of her. “It’s done?”

“Yes.” she confirmed. “I know you do not like it..”

“Ain’t my money, ain’t my business.” he grumbled, placing both children down. “What do you want for lunch?” April immediately started prattling before getting distracted by Snowball who had ventured in the kitchen at the noise. Haymitch lifted Aidan high by his armpits and the boy laughed. “What about you, jellyfish? Any idea?”

Effie watched them, a smile on her face, not really surprised when all that came out of Aidan’s mouth was a string of gibberish. Haymitch acted as if he didn’t mind, blowing raspberries on the boy’s stomach before placing him down so he could go play with his sister and the dog.

She knew they shouldn’t compare the children and god knew she loved them both the same way but… She couldn’t help but notice Aidan was growing much slower than April had been. He was nearing fifteen months now and he still hadn’t mastered any real word beside “no”. April had already been developing a vocabulary at that age. He was standing and walking but not really steadily yet and she couldn’t help but wonder if that was her fault, if because he had been born early…

“Don’t obsess.” Haymitch told her, squeezing her shoulder on his way to the fridge, as if he was reading her thoughts. “You know what Larcher said.”

The doctor insisted nothing was wrong with Aidan, that it was more a case of April being quicker than most rather than Aidan being slower. She felt terrible for even thinking it. But the boy was more fragile than his sister. He got sick more often, she was always scared he…

“I will take the children to Eileen’s this afternoon.” she hummed, changing the subject while he fished out a few things from the fridge and cupboards. She didn’t even attempt to offer her help. When it came to cooking, everything was better left into his expert hands.

“Told the boy I would help out at the bakery. The sink’s leaking again.” he answered.

“And he is asking you for help?” she teased. “Hasn’t he learned from past experiences?”

He spared her a mild glare over his shoulder, his lips twitching. “We got it under control last time.”

“Yes. After flooding the kitchen.” she reminded him.

He rolled his eyes but his mouth twitched into a smirk. “You’ve got so little faith in me, sweetheart.”

She chuckled and stood up, coming to stand behind him so she could wrap her arms around his waist. “I have all the faith in the world in you, Haymitch, but I am simply realistic when it comes to you and plumbing.”

“You never mind it when I take care of your plumbing.” he taunted.

“Haymitch!” she gasped, tossing a quick glance at the children who were still playing with the dog. “Not in front of them.”

His chuckles were low and far more amused than they should have been. He abandoned the lunch preparation to turn around and embrace her properly. She didn’t try to resist when he kissed her, only responding harder when his hands wandered from the small of her back to her ass. He steered her backward, never taking his mouth off hers, pushing her against the kitchen table…

“Haymitch.” she protested against his lips because the babies were still right there. It came out in a needy moan, not quite what she had intended.

“I want you.” he mumbled, his mouth wandering away from hers to retrace the shape of her jaw. He made an obvious effort to control himself though. The kisses he planted on her skin weren’t pressing and his hands wisely came back on her waist.

When was the last time they had had sex? She tried to remember and drew a blank. More than a week. Perhaps more than two. The children may be sleeping through the night now but it didn’t mean they weren’t too exhausted to take advantage of it. Two babies required a lot of energy and, as much as she liked to pretend they were stronger than that, it had taken an impact on their intimate relationship.

“Tonight?” she hummed, her fingers digging into his shoulder blades. She knew exactly which negligee she would put on. The red lacy one. The one he could never resist. “We should celebrate me being rich again. I cannot think of a better way.”

He snorted against her neck. “You’re gonna turn your nose up at me again, next thing you know. How rich are we talking anyway?”

She reached behind her until she found the papers and showed him the total amount.

He started coughing and almost choked when he snatched the page from her hand, his eyes comically wide. “You’re fucking kidding me…”

“Do not swear in front of the children.” she berated automatically. “You knew how much Leo was aiming for…”

“But I didn’t think he would get it.” He made a face and put the paper back on the pile behind her, his hand coming to rest on her hip once more. “You ain’t gonna take off, yeah? ‘Cause half the reason you came here in the first place…”

“Are you seriously asking me this?” she frowned, surprised by the insecurity in his voice. They were married, they had children, they were certain of their respective feelings… She wasn’t sure what there was to be insecure about.

He was silent for a second and then he sighed. “No. I’m sorry, sweetheart, I just…”

“You are not a default choice.” she cut him off. “And if you think that for one moment…”

“I don’t.” he snapped. “Let me finish, yeah? You’ve always got to cut everybody off, don’t you? Always know better than everyone else, yeah?”

She pouted, unsure as to how they had gotten from an heavy making-out session to arguing about such a silly subject. “Go on, then.”

“Too kind.” he scoffed but his lips twitched and soon she found her own lips stretching, answering his smirk with a grin of her own. She didn’t protest the knuckles he brushed down her cheek and she didn’t try to resist when he started kissing her again. “It’s one of my worst nightmares, you know.” he reluctantly muttered, his nose pressing against her cheekbone. Her arms were looped tight around his neck and his were wrapped around her waist. They were in their own bubble. “Being without you. You leaving or…”

“I will never leave.” she promised, turning her head to capture his bottom lip between her teeth. She pulled on it a little, careful not to hurt him. “Don’t you know this by now? I need you. I love you.”

“Right back at you, Princess.” he snorted.

That kiss was dirty in all the right way and she got lost in it. She really did. So much so that when he abruptly pulled back she was left a little dizzy and very confused.

“What did you say?” he asked.

“Nothing?” she frowned, fairly sure she hadn’t uttered a word.

But Haymitch’s attention wasn’t on her. In a matter of seconds, his arms fell from around her and he was picking up their son from the kitchen’s floor. Aidan, who hated it when his parents weren’t paying attention to him, brightened up, reaching for Haymitch’s face with his little hand.

“What did you say, jellyfish?” he pressed with open excitement. “Come on, say it again. Say it again, baby. Pa… Pa…”

Catching up to what was going on, Effie immediately starting stroking their son’s side. “Did you say your first word while Papa was distracting Mama, my darling? How mean of your papa…”

“Come on, Aidan.” Haymitch insisted. “You just did it, I know you can do it again. Pa… Pa…”

“Say it, darling.” Effie crooned softly. “Papa. Pa…”

“Papa.” their son chirped and they grinned at each other before covering him with kisses and praises.

“Papa!” April demanded a little petulantly, tugging on her father’s pants. She didn’t have a jealous temper but she didn’t like being ignored.

Haymitch laughed and handed Aidan over so he could lift April up and cuddle her.

“I’m his first word.” he beamed.

“That you are.” she answered, pleased for him. She pressed kisses against her son’s shoulder. “Now we have to train you to say mama, don’t we? Such a big boy, we have… Such a big boy…”

Haymitch could really be ridiculous sometimes.

How could she ever leave any of this behind?

Not for all the money in the world.

No…

Not for anything.

[theres-no-paradise]

Sorry not Sorry

Chapter 10

Summary:  A random number wakes you up early on a Saturday morning. But it doesn’t stop there. The stranger keeps on sending messages, and you have no idea what is happening, when you start to develop feelings for the unknown person.

Pairings: Tom Holland  x Reader [submit your name: How it works]

Y/N your Name Y/F your Friend

Word Count:  2289

Warnings: none (just a little use of alcohol and making out but thats it lol)

A/N: THERE MIGHT BE MAJOR GRAMMAR MISTAKES - please tell me if you find them, I’m a little tired. You are also allowed to dislike me for waiting so long. I deserve it I guess. But motivation lost me and then I’ve been hella busy and kinda didn’t find my way back to this ff. But here we are with a new chapter. I wanted it to be a little longer BUT the stuff that happens after this chapter would kinda break the mood of this one. Also I’m sorry what I made you do in this one. Don’t be offended. :’D I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1  •  Chapter 2  •  Chapter 3  •  Chapter 4  •  Chapter 5  •  Chapter 6  •  Chapter 7  •  Chapter 8 • Chapter 9 

The Spiderman: What’s going on in London town?

 You: Not much. Im going out with Y/F

The Spiderman: Oh, fun night out!!

You: More like: She’s getting wasted and I’m being a babysitter

The Spiderman: Sounds a little like Haz…

You: lol we should hook them up

The Spiderman: absolutely haha

You: How’s work?

The Spiderman: Exhausting but fun! We’re on a little break now.

You: Don’t overwork Mr. Holland

The Spiderman: I’ll do my best 

You: Good. I gotta go now. Y/F just arrived ttyl 

The Spiderman: text me when you get home so I know you’re safe.

You: I try not to forget!

The Spiderman: You better do

Going to clubs with your friend happened quite frequently the past few weeks. Usually you were the person to stay in but dancing was quite fun and as long as your friend wouldn't get extremely wasted, you had a good time nonetheless.

One evening you were sitting in your favourite pub, having some beers before the actual night out. It was a nice and relaxing atmosphere but that would change soon once the partygoers would get their pre-drinks.

“Did you know that Tom and Zendaya are a thing?”, Y/F suddenly asked, throwing you off from your previous topic about work. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“It’s been on the internet for a while now”

“So? I’ve known him already when the rumours spread. He would've told me”, you countered.

“Not sure. He’s an actor after all. If he doesn't want it to be public-”

“I don't believe in these rumours”

“He even flies to LA regularly”

“Yeah… He’s an actor, as you said. And in LA are all the studios, of course he flies out there.

“Just don't get too attached.”

“I won't!”

Suddenly the mood dropped and you girls had no proper topic to talk about. “Shall we head to the Club?”, you threw in and Y/F answered: “Yeah.”

 That night something happened, which you didn't plan in the first place. Something, you wouldn't even think of planning any day. Y/F’s words still repeated themselves in your mind and trying to get rid of them, you drank. You drank a lot and without realising it, you ended up being utterly wasted. Alone in the crowd, you danced to the loud music banging from the speakers, not caring about the people around you, moving with you. At some point, you didn't know when, a stranger approached you, but you couldn't care less, you just kept on dancing. Your vision was blurry and you only enjoyed the music. With the alcohol in your blood, you did things that you didn't mean to do. Once the guy who danced with you, put his lips on yours, you just couldn't stop. The kiss became more intense and the guy, whose name you didn't even know, dragged you out of the club.

You didn’t remember much after that.

The strong headache was the first thing that woke you up the next morning. You were disoriented, not having any idea where you were at first. The guy from last night lay still next to you so you crawled out of the bed as quiet as possible. Trying to find your clothes was a real struggle. His place was a mess and everything was laying around and it made it harder for you to find your stuff. Once you gathered all of it, you threw it all on and left the place as fast as possible, not leaving a message at all.

Sitting on the tube in the early morning, reality slowly hit you. Not only did you sleep with a guy you didn't even know, you felt like shit. Not because of the drunk accident but more because of Tom. Even though you weren’t dating, you felt regret wash over your body. Obviously a sign that it was a mistake what has happened last night. The walk of shame, after a crazy night out, became the walk of horror for you. Barely any people were on the tube, so there weren't many sneaking looks but the moment you phone started buzzing, you knew immediately what was going to happen.

The Spiderman: Guess who just landed in London.

 Nausea struck you immediately. Did he tell you before that he planned to come home? You scrolled up the whole conversation, no sign of any mention of home. Slowly gulping down that lump that has formed in your throat, you typed in the response.

 You: No way you're in London?

The Spiderman: Actually yes. It’s my mom's birthday, wanna join?

You: I don't know. I don't even know her, isnt that weird?

The Spiderman: Not at all. My mom’s easy going

You: Okay…

The Spiderman: It's gonna be at their place, 7pm. Want me to pick you up?

You: No its cool. I’ll be at the train station

The Spiderman: Can't wait!

You: See you

The Spiderman: xx

 The feeling in your guts could've been described as awful. Just some horrible, unnecessary feeling building up inside of you.

As you approached your station, you left the train and walked the long way back home. Thinking about how you’re gonna meet Tom later, not sure if you should tell him what you did.

Maybe you shouldn't tell him what happened? You were not dating anyway so is it his business to know who you slept with? Well, yes if you are romantically involved with him, but are you? You ask yourself a thousand questions, not knowing the answer for it. Asking Y/F for advice was not a good idea either, not only because she might also have a hangover, but after last night's conversation she wasn't really fond of helping you with Tom anyway.

You spent the day laying on your sofa, drinking tons of water and eating some cheeky Nandos from around the corner. You still felt awful about what has happened the night before and you even tried to think about what happened. You didn't remember a thing, only that some random guy kissed you and dragged you to his place. What happened after was a blackout. You couldn't recall anything, that has happened in his sheets and that made it even worse.

‘Maybe nothing happened and I’m overreacting’, you thought, trying to calm yourself down. Unfortunately it didn't work and you rolled around on your sofa, blanky nearly falling off of you.

Checking the clock you realized, it was getting late. You stood up quickly and pulled out some clothes. Luckily you took a shower once you came back home after the walk of shame in your neighbourhood. Now it was time for some decent clothes. You pulled out a dark jeans and a nice dark grey Sweater, which you pulled over a white shirt. It looked casual enough for a ‘parent - birthday - party’, you thought.

When you arrived at the train station, with flowers you just got earlier for his mom, you could see Tom standing on the platform with Tess, just as the last time he picked you up.

“Hey”, you greeted him, pulling him into a tight hug. “It’s been ages”, he said, once he pulled back, taking in your figure. “You look pretty”, “likewise, handsome”, you countered, smiling slightly. As you slowly walked to his parents house, you caught up on recent events which you haven't talked on the mobile.

“Oh, I got you something”, Tom said suddenly, opening his backpack and taking out a little, dark red Box. “Why do you have a bag with you?”, you wondered, as he held the little package into your direction. “Presents for mom”, he answered smiling and pulled the zipper closed. While he did that, you stared at the little box in your hands. “Open it!”, he laughed, having a very demanding tone in it.

You did as you’ve been told and once the box was open, a little beaver with way too big teeth grinned at you. It was holding a little plate in its hands, saying Montreal on it. “You got me something from Canada?”, you asked surprised. “I told you I would”, he grinned, running his hand through his hair nervously. “You didn’t have to-”, “I know, but I did”, Tom countered and smiled. You thanked him and suddenly that terrible feeling in your stomach was back, signalling you of the mistake you made last night. Should you tell him or keep it to yourself? You weren't sure and the worst about this situation was: Your friends words still lingered in your mind, waiting to be spoken out.

 Nikki’s Party was better, than you originally imagined. Of course, there were many people that were a lot older than you but Tom and his brothers had been great hosts. They hung out with you, joked around and played silly games. Of course, there was some alcohol too but you tried to keep it to a minimum. A wine here and there maybe. After a few hours, around two in the morning, Tom decided that it was time to go home. You said your goodbyes to the family and friends and left with the Actor. “I’ll check if there's a bus coming”, you said, trying to figure out the app on your phone that had all the details in it.

“Leave it. I’m not gonna let you drive home at this time of the night.” “I’m not a child, Tom”, you said sternly, as you scrolled with your finger on the display. Tom just pulled your phone out of your hands and walked away with it. Leaving you stunned for a second. “Hey!”, you shouted after him and followed his figure, but he decided to take up the pace and ran away. “You son of a-”, you didn't say it out loud but sprinted after him as fast as you could, only to accept the fact, that this spider boy was way faster than you. As you arrived in front of his door, holding your sides because of having the stitches, he grinned at you, giving back the mobile device.

“You’re staying here, I dont want someone to kidnap you”, Tom explained, as he opened his door and let you walk in. Annoyed at his behaviour, you walked in and got rid of your shoes, walking to the living room. Sitting down on the couch, you looked around. Nothing has changed since the last time. A little more merch here and there (Obviously Spiderman Stuff duh) but other than that, same old living room.

Tom came over with two beers in his hand, joining you on the sofa. The night wasn’t over yet, you knew that. It basically just started for you too, but hoped to not get as drunk as the night before. As time went by, you kept talking with Tom about all the things, that annoyed you at work the past few weeks. And even he’d complain about certain days, when nothing would've worked for him at all. Just as you were telling him about some differences with your best friend, you didn't mention what she said. Just that you wouldn't agree with her opinion. Tom listened closely but laid down on the sofa, his head resting on your lap. You felt your cheeks heat up a little at this sudden change of position but kept on telling him all the things. When you finished complaining, a warm feeling in your stomach grew, pushing aside all the negativity from the day.

“Can I kiss you?”

 Well, that was unexpected. And even worse, it came out of your mouth. Tom only giggled slightly at your outburst, which made you insecure, so you tried to save the situation. “I’m so sorry, that was rude. It's the alcohol and I know that you have a girlfriend and-” you stopped suddenly when Tom shifted positions and sat across from you again. “Why would you think that?”, he asked, voice filled with concern.

“Uhm, the internet is all over with it?”

“Z? We’re friends! She’s like family to me”, Tom explained, a serious expression on his face while he looked at you. “Really?”, your voice wasn't more than a whisper. “Positive. So… Didn't you want to kiss me?”, Tom joked, a smug expression on his face. Oh this boy definitely had a drink too much tonight, you could tell.

You really wanted to kiss him though, but something kept you back and as you were struggling to find the courage, Tom took the opportunity and kissed you first instead. Usually a kiss like that would end after a moment, checking each others reactions out but this wasn't the case. The innocent kiss became an endless make out session which lasted more than just a few minutes.

At some point your mind started to scream, telling you to stop, which unfortunately lead to an end of this wonderful experience.

“I slept with someone”, you blurted out as Tom was trying to recollect his thoughts. It took him a little to think about your words but then, to your surprise, he just shook it off. “Yeah, I guess that happens when your single”

“I didn't mean to though. It felt wrong”

“Why?”

“Because of you, I guess”

There was tension in the air and the sudden silence felt heavy on your shoulders. Was he mad?

“I admit, I’m a little jealous that someone else got a taste of that sweet bum of yours”, Oh alcohol, you thought but couldn't help and laugh at his words. “We surely can change that”, were your last words, before you kissed Tom again with a big smile on your lips.

The enormous guilt you were struggling about was over for now, and you let your thoughts spin back to Tom and his lips.

Taglist:   @hollandorks  @hollywoodgonzalez @ilivefortomholland @casualprincess77 @agirlwithpointlessideas @isabellamozarella03 @MENDES-HOLLAND @thiswildfire @wastedheartnat @hollandbaby @moonofmy-life @smileylaurens @random-fandom-lady @heartoftheadventure @blackazkaban @augurydemon @homecomjng @punkass-potato @unfoldingdaydreams @thefriendlyneighborhoodspidey @rivedale @tiffanypooh@claraholland @tohollandback @letsmcflytobritain

[flslp87]

The Promise

A Captain Swan AU

Killian and Emma, two souls destined to be one. Come along on their journey of True Love, filled with romance, passion, and challenges as they fight for their Happy Beginning in The Promise.

Special thanks to @duathadun  @hellomommanerd  @linda8084  @juliakaze  and @hookedmom    

Can be found on Tumblr (1)  (2)  (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14)                                          (15) (16) (17) (18) Can be found on FF  (Rating changed to M) Can be found on AO3  (Rating will remain T to T+)

Grab a tissue and let’s go.... 

Chapter 19

Words ~ 13K+                  Rating ~ T

New York City, NY Late Friday to Early Saturday

“Mr. Jones, I’m calling to let you know your brother is awake,” Liam heard Doctor Hopper say.  

The doctor’s words didn’t initially register, making Liam think perhaps he was dreaming.  Not responding immediately, he looked around the room and heard the music playing, saw the lights from the city outside the windows shining, and heard the gentle hum from the air conditioner; all sounds assuring him that he was not dreaming. “Killian is awake?” he couldn’t help but ask, just in case he had been hallucinating.  

“Yes. I was standing next to his bed when he opened his eyes

“How is he, Doctor Hopper?” he asked anxiously, “Is he alright?

“Based on Killian’s questions and comments when I spoke to him, I have every reason to believe all is fine.”  

Liam sighed in relief.  “I’m on my way.” He needed to get to the hospital.  He needed to talk to Killian, if only to assure himself that he was fine.  And once he had done that, then they needed to have a discussion about Emma.  

“Mr. Jones, perhaps it would be best for you to wait until the morning.   Killian is going to be undergoing several tests over the next few hours and I really don’t want to overtire him until we’re sure there are no complications. Shall we meet tomorrow at say…10:00?”

Unable to hide his disappointment, Liam agreed and hung up the phone. As soon as the call disconnected, he sent a quick text to Nemo, letting him know about Killian’s awakening and then, as usual, ended up next to the window. The lights far below caught his attention in an almost hypnotic way and he allowed himself to get lost in his thoughts.  

He kept playing what he wanted to say to Killian over and over in his head, rewinding and editing as necessary until he was comfortable with the message he wanted to convey.  Once that message was complete he turned to go to bed, noticing his reflection for the first time in the window.   The man looking back at him wasn’t frowning…his smile wasn’t huge, but it was there.  Liam Jones was happy for the first time in many years.

When he finally crawled into bed, he knew he should be tired, but his mind was wide awake and active with thoughts of what had transpired over the past week. It didn't seem possible that less than a week ago, Nemo had stopped by his office and after a few exchanges said to him, "Don't ignore the pain, Liam, as that helps make you the man you are supposed to become, but trust your brother. If he says one look and he knew Emma was the one for him, just may I remind you, as your father did, then perhaps you are not giving him credit to know his own mind."   And that was crux of the matter, really.  That he continued to view his brother as that four-year-old little boy that he had almost lost.  That same little boy that he had tried to save and protect for close to thirty years. How did one change a behavior when it had been part of his very existence for longer than not?  

Nemo's words, "This is when we come together as a family and perhaps if we meet her halfway, Emma will save all of us just like she seems to have saved your brother," had made him want to laugh at the possibility that someone who had come from the very same place as the woman who had crushed him could ever save him. But now, looking back at what had transpired in such a short time, he had to wonder if perhaps his old mentor had known something about Emma that either he hadn't known or that he hadn't been willing to see.  His judgment had been sorely impaired for years and while no means perfect, he felt he was back on the road to discovering the man his mother would admire.

To say that he regretted his behavior, especially toward his brother, was just a part of what was going on inside his head.  There seemed to be too much clutter for him to really make sense of all the emotions, but the more that he attempted to organize and understand the many parts of his feelings, the better he seemed to be able to put them behind him in order to take responsibility.  He knew, though, that taking it was only the first step toward healing wounds that ran deep.  He felt it was important for all parties to come together, otherwise it was like covering something with a band-aid that never was able to heal properly. With band-aids often the hurts were covered, allowing them to fester, creating pain that could take years to fix.  While he deserved for Killian to shut him down and walk away, Liam hoped that his little brother would meet him halfway.

After several hours of being no closer to sleep than when he had crawled into bed, Liam padded into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Leaning against the counter, he sipped the strong brew and mentally made a check list of what he needed to take to the hospital with him.  Once the caffeine started zipping through his system, he poured another cup, and went to shower.

After he was dressed, he searched for an old gym bag which would easily hold a few changes of clothes for Killian.  A couple pair of gym shorts and t-shirts, which the doctor had recommended for comfort, along with shoes and socks were the first things to go in the bag.  Some toiletries followed and just as he was zipping it, he decided to include a pair of jeans and a shirt.  He had a few hours before he was to meet with the doctor, and with the bag and a third cup of coffee, he decided to stop by his office to try to catch up on some overdue work.

Boston, MA Saturday Early Morning

Ruby closed her suitcase and took another look around the room that she had shared with Emma and Ashley until they were 18 and moved into their first apartment together.  So many memories within these walls, she thought.  From gossiping about boys to experimenting with make-up, they had shared the highs and lows of each other's lives.  And even though other kids had come and gone in the Home, they had remained constants, always together.  Always there for each other.  Sisters in every way but blood.

Pushing away from the bed, she walked over to the window seat where her raggedy doll, dressed in red, sat next to Ashley's, dressed in blue and Emma's, dressed in white.  "We made quite the team, didn't we Annie?" She crooned to her doll, hugging her close to her chest.

These days the doll's answers weren't so readily heard as they were when she was ten, but the comfort she derived from holding her tight almost had her stuffing the doll into her suitcase.  Only the little smirk that she'd be sure to get from Victor prevented it, and when the doll just gazed at her with its wide blue eyes, after another hug, she kissed its forehead softly and set it back on the cushion. She had confided just about as many secrets to the doll as she had to Ashley and Emma, and as they moved their separate ways, it was a little frightening.

Her attention shifted to the bookcase, which sat next to the window, holding an eclectic array of books. There were tattered copies of Charlotte's Web and Black Beauty next to Harry Potter.  All were well read and well-loved and many eliciting discussions long into the night. As her eye moved down the shelves, she saw her Little Red Riding Hood next to Ashley's Cinderella.  A quick glance confirmed what she had already known - that Emma's fairytale books were missing, which wasn't really surprising as she had loved them best of all.  

Knowing it was about time to leave for Emma's graduation, Ruby turned back to the bed, picked up her suitcase, and just as she moved to walk out of the room, her eyes landed on a picture that had been taken when they were twelve or thirteen.  Ruby, as the tallest, stood in the center flanked by Emma and Ashley, all wearing huge grins and shirts that said, "All for one, and one for all."

"I wonder," she murmured, remembering their treasure box they had hidden not long after the picture was taken.  Her suitcase was dropped, and she was in the closet, searching for the loose board before she even realized she had moved. When she found it, using the palm of her hand, she popped it up enough to move the board aside and pulled out the small box that held their treasures.  

A quick glance at the clock assured her that, even though time was short, she still had a few moments for nostalgia.  After all, she was leaving for six months and when she returned life would look different.  Ashley and Sean were thinking of moving outside of Boston, Emma and Killian were moving to New York and she was...well she hoped she would be planning her own wedding.  A lot of changes in a short time were bound to bring on a little melancholy, right?

Reverently, the lid was removed and set aside.  Inside she found three mood rings and slipped one on her finger, wondering if it still turned colors. There were hair ribbons, an old necklace, a pet rock, sunglasses and a picture Emma had drawn of herself standing next to Snow White and Prince Charming.  The last thing in the box was their old Magic 8 Ball.  Memories of them asking it about grades and clothes and friends bombarded her, and feeling her eyes glass over, had to blink several times to clear her vision.

Hearing Blue calling her to come help, she quickly reloaded the box, noticing that, indeed, her mood ring had turned dark blue.  That's a good sign, she thought as she picked up the ball to drop it into the box, but couldn’t resist asking it, "Have I met my Prince Charming?" It’s answer, "Yes, definitely," put such a huge smile on her face, she couldn’t help but ask it another question.  "Is Emma getting her happy ever after?"   The resulting message sent a chill through her body.

University Hospital Newark, NJ Saturday Mid-Morning

When Liam arrived at the hospital a little before he was to meet with Doctor Hopper, his first inclination was to go directly to Killian's room.  He needed to see with his own eyes that Killian was indeed awake and that he hadn't merely been dreaming it were true. But as luck would have it, when he stepped off the elevator, the doctor was standing at the nurse's station waiting for him.

"Mr. Jones, I'm happy to see you.  Come with me."  

His abrupt greeting took Liam a little aback, but he followed the doctor around a corner and into an empty room, anxious to hear what he had to say.  "How is Killian?" he blurted without preamble.

When Doctor Hopper crossed his arms, leaned against the counter and looked at him from under his glasses, Liam prepared himself to hear the worst.

"Medically, your brother is doing surprisingly well. All his tests came back within normal ranges and I don't anticipate any residual damage.  He's very fortunate, but..."

He hesitated just a tad too long for Liam's comfort. "But what?  What is it you're not telling me?" His rapid speech was the only external sign of his anxiousness whereas internally his pulse was quickly escalating and his breathing becoming shallower by the minute.

The doctor must have realized how his comment had sounded because he immediately responded, "No, no.   Killian is fine.  But he's insisting that he's checking out of the hospital today.  I'm hoping you can talk some sense into him."

A relieved laugh burst out before he could stop it, and regaining a little decorum, he smiled at the doctor. "I'm sorry, Doctor," he shook his head at the thought, "but Killian stopped listening to me a long time ago. However, I'm willing to try."

Doctor Hopper nodded. "I certainly understand, as many times patients refuse to listen to family members when it comes to their care, unless of course," he took off his glasses and proceeded to clean them, "they're married.  Sometimes that helps, but not always. Now here's what he's saying...."

~~~CS~~~

Killian watched the lass as she tightened the brace around his knee one more time.  

"How does that feel?" she asked as she handed him a crutch to use for support.

"How do you think it feels?" He growled. "It feels fine.  Now can I walk?"

"Mr. Jones," she began in a placating tone, "your knee..."

Killian tried for patience but after what he had endured in the twelve-plus hours he had been awake, those reserves were all but depleted. "I'm not bloody daft," he interrupted her explanation, "I heard you the first and the second time.  Now can I walk?"

She inclined her head in agreement and helped him stand while supporting some of his weight. "Here's the crutch.  Don't try to move right away.  Let me know if you feel light headed."

Killian had to admit, but only to himself, that his body seemed weaker than a newborn babe’s and that the room had taken on the feel of an amusement park ride, but once he started breathing through the pain, he felt stronger.  Digging deep down inside, he put one foot in front of the other, and with the persistence and fortitude that he had learned from his parents, he walked across the room and back before collapsing onto the side of the bed. He had sweat pouring down his face, but refused to show pain, instead giving the therapist a cheeky smile. "Satisfied?"

Her glance told him that she was used to people behaving rudely when she was only trying to help, but he needed out of this bloody place.   There was someone in Boston that needed him, and he was tired of waiting. "Mr. Jones," she sighed as she took the crutch and leaned it against the bed. "You must remember all the instructions I gave you. Do not overtire yourself."

"I'm not likely to forget them as you've repeated them ad nauseum since you walked through that door.  Are we done?"

Killian watched her as she cleaned up her work paraphernalia and picked up his chart to make notes.  Was she one of the ones he’d heard speaking about the accident before he woke?   That they were outside his room and not right next to his bed had prevented him from hearing more clearly, but the words he did hear, they nearly tore him apart.  Those words seemed to add validity to what he heard Liam say.  And while unclear on what day the conversation had occurred, the meaning was very clear.  Emma was dead and not coming back to him.

Since waking last night and seeing his red-headed doctor, he hadn’t felt like doing much talking.  He had asked about Robin but hadn’t had the strength to ask about Emma, because…he already knew the answer.  Talking about it just made it more real and he wasn’t strong enough to deal with the fact that he would never see his Swan again.  Never hold her in his arms again…except in his dreams. There she was always waiting for him.  

The lass closed the chart, picked up her bag of equipment and checked the brace one more time before conspicuously leaving an ice pack nearby and exiting the room.  As soon as the door closed behind her, Killian let out the breath he had been holding and allowed his shoulders to droop with fatigue. Only alone would he allow the pain that was his constant companion to surface, as it could be construed as a weakness.  And he had no time for being weak. He had lost too much here in this place and each day he remained here, he felt his soul slowly being sucked away.  Now, the strength he gained from having Emma's love wrapped around him had become even more important.  He had to borrow on that strength to get on his feet enough to get back to Boston, because he knew what he needed in order to heal could no longer be found here.

As soon as the throbbing in his leg had become nothing but a dull ache, he contemplated using the ice pack.  But his hope was that as soon as Liam arrived, he would be able to leave and to do that he needed - a shower. The question was, could he make it on his own?

He eyed the bathroom door some six feet away and, positioning the crutch, he used it and the bed railing to manipulate himself onto his feet.  From there it was a less than a dozen miserable steps before he reached the door and entered the tiny room.  With no normal clothing to put on after showering, he took a couple of the arse-showing gowns and dropped them on the counter for easy reach. A flick of the wrist started the steamy water and, dropping the offending gown, he stepped in.

~~~CS~~~

As he walked toward Killian's room, Liam found himself rubbing an imaginary spot over his heart where Doctor Hopper had inadvertently shoved a dagger. His words, while innocent, had really brought his poor judgment right back and planted it squarely in his lap. The universe, it seemed, had decided that it was time for him to man-up, and he was feeling like it had brought everyone surrounding him to the party.  Now, the words, "unless they're married," kept reverberating inside his head, echoing louder and louder with each step he took until he had no choice but to confront them head on.  And what did he find?

His discovery was that the good doctor was probably right.   Had Emma been in the same hospital instead of across the country, Killian would have been willing to stay. He might have insisted that they share a room, but he would have been willing to cooperate and not so quick to leave University Hospital.  

What Liam hadn't uncovered in his musings was just how Killian even knew where she was, or that she had gone away for treatment.  As far as he was aware, no one even knew about the others in the car.  In fact, Doctor Hopper had mentioned that Killian had asked about Robin, and that had been the first time he had heard that name. Who, then, was talking out of turn? And now that Killian knew she was in Seattle, and Liam's less than chivalrous part in her transfer, would Killian's willingness to listen to his story be affected?

~~~CS~~~~~

Killian tied one gown in back and then slipped the other on in reverse, allowing himself some semblance of modesty.  Getting the brace back on in such a confined space proved difficult, but once he had succeeded, he felt better than he had since he'd been awake.  They had moved him all over the hospital, allowing every machine possible to study his brain, and following that, several others had asked him the same bloody things over and over again. It had been many grueling hours of questioning and by the time he returned to his room, he had been glad Liam hadn’t been there waiting for him.  Having to keep up his front of ‘being normal’ would have been too difficult, mostly because he knew that true normal was asking the impossible.

 ~~~CS~~~

Liam had been waiting for several minutes when Killian emerged from the washroom.  The only outward signs of his accident were the tiny cuts left on his face, the knee brace and crutch, and the pallor of his skin.  "Killian, I'm so relieved you're awake." He quickly moved to Killian's side to give him a hug and when Killian remained passive in his arms prepared himself to explain.  

"Aye, I'm awake." Killian answered matter-of-factly. "Did you bring me some clothes?"

Taken aback at his brusque tone, Liam held the bag out toward him, studying his face for some sign of what he was thinking or feeling. Without saying anything further, the bag was slipped over a shoulder and Killian retreated back behind closed doors, leaving him to try to piece together what had just happened and how to approach the conversation that would be the start of making things right between them, as brothers.  

~~~CS~~~

Killian collapsed against the closed door and felt tears spring to his eyes.  He had known it would be difficult to be near Liam, but discussing Emma with him, knowing how Liam felt about her, was too hard.  In his current condition, the strength he needed to process all of those emotions just wasn’t there.    With every cell in his body vibrating with pain, the only other overwhelming emotion he had room for was anger.  He was angry at himself, at Liam, at the doctors and even, god help him, at Emma; feelings he hadn’t had he lost his parents. "How am I going to get through this?" he whispered to the silent room, fighting against the need to slide down onto the cold hard floor and sob

He was unsure how long he had been in there before he heard rapping on the door followed by Liam’s voice,   “Killian, you alright?" and realized he needed to get dressed and get his brother to take him to the airport.  It was time to go.

~~~CS~~~~

The second time Killian emerged from the washroom, he was fully dressed with his brace over his jeans, leaning heavily on the crutch. And even though the look on his brother's face reminded him of the stubborn man he'd seen in the mirror for too many years, Liam took a deep breath and wandered into the minefield. "Killian, we need to talk about Emma," he blurted out.

Killian's head lifted quickly, his blue eyes steely as they bore into him.  "No, we don't." His words were measured, almost as if he were in pain. "I know about Emma."

Liam couldn't quite connect the pain in Killian's voice with the knowledge of Emma's whereabouts, because she was getting the best care possible.  If anything, he expected anger for the way he had behaved as an arsehole for years, and hadn't even succeeded in caring for Emma properly.  "But Killian, Emma is--"

 He hadn't been aware that an injured man could move as quickly as Killian did, but before he had even finished the sentence, Killian was snarling in his face, "Do not mention her name to me. When I am ready to talk, you will know.  Sound familiar?"

Liam was thrown right back into that room he had been hiding in after finding Lily and discovering her duplicitous nature, and it hit him this time like a punch to the gut.  His brother was behaving exactly like him.  He was pulled back to the present when he heard Killian say, "We'll be right there," and then hang up the phone.

"Where are you going, Killian?"

Killian gave him a hard stare as he turned toward the door. "To sign myself out of this place and then to the airport.  You taking me or do I get a cab?" he asked before he vanished out the door.

Liam took a look around the room and picked up the bag, slipping it over his shoulder.  "Pot, meet Kettle," he murmured as he followed.

Seattle-Grace Hospital Seattle, WA Early Saturday Morning PST

Mary Margaret didn't usually go into the hospital on Saturday, but after her session with Emma, and the glimpses into Emma's memories, she felt that a breakthrough could happen at any time.  Dropping her bag in her office, she took the elevator to the fourth floor, and when she arrived at Emma's room, the sight that greeted her nearly broke her heart.  

Emma was sitting up in bed, her sketch pad on her lap, head bowed, her shoulders shaking as giant, silent sobs shook her body.   Knowing that she should never get so emotionally attached to a patient but realizing she was too far gone, Mary Margaret did the only thing she could do.  She took the lost girl in her arms and let her cry until no more tears were left.

As Emma's tears quieted, Mary Margaret handed her a tissue, watching as she wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and once again gained control. "Do you want to tell me about it?"  In her experience talking about one's feelings helped, however, when it was suspected that feelings or emotions were the cause of what brought the patient to her, it became more of a delicate matter.  

Emma's silence was almost off-putting, but watching the emotions flit across her face told her all she needed to know.  When she handed over the sketchbook, her face telling a story of its own, Mary Margaret was almost hesitant to look down, but once she did, a smile graced her face as she gazed back at the patient.  "You remembered this?”

Emma hesitantly nodded her head.  Studying the picture, Mary Margaret was once again in awe of the talent exhibited before her.  Emma had drawn three girls standing close together, arms around each other, as if a team, and huge smiles on their faces. "Is this you?" She pointed to one of the girls on the end.   Emma shook her head yes.   "This is excellent work.  Were you awake when the memory returned?"

Emma reached for the ever-present whiteboard and wrote, "No.  Dream."

"Ah, ok.  Let's see if you can remember more about this time in your life, alright?"

Nodding her head eagerly, Mary Margaret gently prodded at the edges of Emma's brain, asking subtle questions about the picture.  Emma remembered generalities; she felt happy and carefree, the other girls were her best friends and they had eaten snow cones, each of them liking a different flavor.  "Search the picture in your mind Emma," Mary Margaret instructed, "can you hear their name?

She watched as Emma closed her eyes and waited.  When she opened them, her response was immediate, in that she grabbed the sketch pad and drew another object next to them, before writing something next to the two girls that were not her.  When she handed over the sketch pad, Mary Margaret read the names, "Red and Ella," thinking nicknames, but a wonderful start. Her eyes were then drawn to the new object that had been drawn. "And this, Emma.  Do you remember playing with this?"

Emma shook her head and pointed to Red and Ella. "You remember playing with it alongside Red and Ella?"

 Another nod.  "Do you remember what it's called?"

This time, Emma shook her head indicating that she didn't remember.  "It's called a Magic 8 Ball."

Group Home Boston, MA Saturday Late Morning

With Blue's assurances that if anything had happened to Emma, they would know, ringing in her ears, Ruby had allowed herself to be swept up helping to set up for the post-graduation festivities. They cleaned and rearranged furniture and then hung streamers and decorated several tables. Finger foods that didn't need refrigeration were arranged on one and a place for a wedding cake that would be delivered later was made on another.  

Ruby moved from group to group, helping fill balloons with helium in one place to supplying tape to a group hanging signs of congratulations in another.  She tied ribbons on balloons and attached them to chairs and railings.  She lifted the smaller children up so they could help with decorating and carted a large trash bag around collecting the wrapping that had been dropped on the floor in the excitement.

Eventually, the melancholy returned and taking a bunch of balloons and a roll of streamers, Ruby left the chaos of the house for the quiet oasis in the backyard. The minute she stepped out the door, the peacefulness of the surroundings calmed her as they had so often when she was growing up.  She quickly decorated the porch railing with the balloons and streamers and then made her way to the swing that had been hanging from a large tree branch for as long as she could remember. The same tree she remembered climbing as a child to peer through the branches and that she used to hide behind during hide-and-seek.  It was the same tree under which she, Ashley and Emma used to spread a blanket and play with their dolls.

"Ashley," Ruby smiled at her friend as she smoothed out her doll's dress, "meet, Annie.  What did you name yours?"

Ashley picked up one of Ruby's doll's hands. "Pleased to meet ya, Annie," she giggled before she stood her doll up, too. "Meet Ella."

"Well hello, Ella," Ruby greeted the doll in a high-pitched voice.  “How are you?"

Ruby remembered Emma hadn't been outside with them because she had been sick with a fever, and Blue had suggested they let Emma sleep. However, as was usually the case without their third musketeer, they had quickly gotten bored and packed up their dolls, ending up on the floor of their bedroom, while Emma and her doll had played from afar.  

"Ready, Ella?" Annie asked her new friend.

"I'm ready, Annie," answered Ella. "Let's go find out what our new neighbor's name is."

"Yes, let's," Annie agreed as they started walking toward the 'house' next door. "Knock, knock," Ruby made the sound as if her doll were knocking.

Emma had picked up her doll and walked her across the blanket on her bed and pretended to open a door. "Hello."

"Welcome to the neighborhood," Annie said to the new friend, "I'm Annie and this is Ella.

"Thank you," the new friend said. "It's nice to meet you, Ella, Annie.  My name is Kate."

"Hello, Kate," they said in unison."Such good memories," Ruby murmured as she came back to the present when she heard Henry calling her name. "Coming, Henry."

Seattle Grace Hospital Seattle, WA Saturday Late Morning

Her eyes cataloged what they saw looking back at her in the mirror.   Long, blonde hair lying limp against her skull, bright green eyes rimmed by huge purple bruises and a swollen face covered with...yes, more bruises, these ranging in colors from the darkest purple to the lightest yellow.

"Who am I?"  She asked the face silently.

"Your name is Emma Swan," the doctor with the kind blue eyes had told her.

"But who is Emma Swan?" she pleaded. "Why don't I remember her?"

He hadn't said anything more because, really, what could he say?  He had just continued watching her, but not with pity in his eyes.  They had contained concern, care and even empathy.

The eyes in the mirror, though, they looked lost, and even though she had been told that her name was Emma Swan, she couldn't connect that name with any familiarity.   "Are you sure?" She asked again, the pain and frustration evident even inside her own head.  

"Yes.  Trust us." This time she could hear another voice added to his.  Mary Margaret, the woman with the soft eyes and gentle voice, had joined them.  "It will come, Emma.  We will work on it, together."

Together?  Why did that sound so familiar?  But the words were just slightly off, different than what Mary Margaret had said, but they were stuck inside her head. With the word reverberating inside her mind, she crawled onto the uncomfortable bed and fell into a restless sleep.  

She dreamed she was standing next to a large tree, it's branches stretching tall toward the sky. She could see a swing hanging on one side of the tree and if she listened carefully, she could hear the tinkling laughter of other children. Backing away from the trunk, she looked up into the branches to see the face of someone looking back at her.  With a mischievous grin, the face disappeared from view.

"Wait.  Wait. Come back." But before she had even finished her thought, the scene had faded from view.

Tired and feeling alone, she curled up into a ball as tight as possible and allowed herself a few moments of grief. It seemed that she had just settled when she heard, "Hello," being called faintly, ever so faintly.

"Hello.  What is your name?"  a disembodied voice called quietly to her right.  

She turned quickly to ask them whom they were talking to before they faded from sight, just like the other scenes she had pictured, and then lost just as quickly.  But before she could give voice to her question, from her left another voice filled the air, " My name is Kate."

The voice was so close and so familiar that she whipped her head to the left and found herself looking into...a much younger version of herself holding a raggedy doll. "My name is Kate," the young girl said again.

"Kate," she repeated. It felt right. "Kate," she said again.  This time it felt more familiar. "Kate," she said a third time, and the name felt more comfortable still.  She needed that.  She needed to feel comfortable with the person she was right now.  "My name is Kate.  It's Kate." She felt like she had taken ownership of it and for the first time since she had woken up in this place, she felt a glimmer of hope.  

Her eyes popped open, and taking her sketch pad, she drew the scene with the girl in the tree.  She wasn't positive, but thought maybe she had drawn that girl before.  Next to the tree, she drew a simple sketch of her younger self and the doll and then wrote next to it, “My name is Kate Swan.

As she studied that name, she realized that the graceful, elegant Swan name no longer fit the person she saw in the mirror.  She needed a name that made her feel comfortable and safe. With that thought, she marked out the entire sentence and tried again.  Once she had completed the task, she put away the pencils and promptly fell into a deep sleep where she waited for the eyes to come to her.

~~~CS~~~~

An hour later, David Nolan stopped by to check on his new patient and found her drawing lying on the bed, as if waiting for inspection.  "Oh, no," he whispered as he read what she had written.

He decided that Mary Margaret needed to see the new development and slowly slipped the paper out of the book to take with him.  "I hope this isn't a permanent problem," he murmured.

She had written, "My name is Kate Blue."

Hospital for Special Surgery New York, NY Saturday, Early Afternoon

Regina stood outside the door of the rehabilitation room and watched Will put Robin through the paces of learning to transfer from the bed to a chair and back again.  With every try, his moves became easier and more natural, but with his shirt sticking to chest, she could tell the exertion was taking its toll and he would tire soon. She knew he was pushing himself because he wanted to get out of the hospital, but she also worried about him. She didn't want him to push so hard as to risk injury because, according to his doctors, he was on schedule to be discharged before the following weekend. She was looking forward to taking him home so they could see where things would go between them.

And then there were the two pieces of news her mother had shared with her. While both inadvertently involved Killian, one more directly than the other, she knew as soon as she told Robin, he was going to be anxious to speak with Killian himself. The fact that their line of communication had been cut off since the accident had been difficult for him.  He needed to assure himself that his friend of many years was okay, and that Robin cared so deeply made her love him even more.  

And the second piece of news, while not entirely a shock, did surprise her just a little as she thought Nemo would want to hang around and make sure that all was well with Killian and Emma.  However, according to her mother, they were flying out bright and early the next day to spend the summer traveling wherever the whim took them. Her mother even said that during part of the trip, they might not even have the ability to communicate with the outside world.  Afraid of what her mother’s answer would be if she had questioned more, Regina had instead wished them well and hung up the phone.  

And now, they had to not only worry about Killian and where he was flying off to, but why no one seemed to have any information about Emma’s injuries.   That, in and of itself, was a bit concerning.    Her current working theory was that Blue had been notified of Emma’s accident and had her moved back to Boston to be close to her friends.   Deciding it would be a good time to catch up with Elsa before any other interruptions occurred, Regina dialed her number.   It would be a good way to pass the time while she waited for Robin to finish his therapy.

 Group Home Boston, MA Saturday, Mid-Afternoon

"Elsa," she heard Anna call her name in a voice just a little too loud.

"Go 'way," she managed to mumble before settling a little deeper into her pillow.

"Elsa.  Wake up!" Anna repeated a little louder, and this time added shaking her shoulder, making her feel like she was on a boat being tossed around by high waves.

Elsa swallowed hard to push down the bile that had risen in her throat and cracked open one eye.  When the spinning room joined the bell choir in her head, she groaned and shut her eye again. "Later… Wake later..."

"Elsa.  Your phone has been vibrating like crazy.  Weren't you going to Emma's graduation? What did you have to drink?" Everything was blurted out in one breath.

When Anna was excited, she often spoke quickly, but Elsa had always been able to understand her.  Today, however, it felt like her thoughts were mired in molasses.  Taking them apart piece by piece, she bypassed the part about her phone and went straight to Emma's graduation.  Was she going to the graduation? "Ugh," she groaned as she pushed up into a sitting position and had a moment of panic before remembering that she wasn't going to the ceremony but just to the party.  "I must be coming down with something.  What time is it?"

"Around 3:00, I think. And you didn't answer.  What did you drink last night?"  She humphed and handed over two Tylenol and a glass of water.

Draining the glass, Elsa handed it to Anna and buried her face in her hands, waiting for the medication to stop the pounding in her head. "I just had some New York Iced Tea, that's all.  Why do you keep asking me what I had to drink? You know that I only have a little wine now and then."

"True, but this time I'm asking because the girls who brought you home last night were all giggly and said, "Oh don't mind her, she had too much to drink." She shook her head and handed Elsa a plate with a dry piece of toast on it.  "Here, eat this."

Picking up the toast, Elsa absently nibbled on it while thinking over what Anna had said. "But that can't be right.  I told you, I was just drinking New York Iced Teas."  She dropped the half-eaten toast back on the plate and prayed it stayed down.

"Elsa," Anna prodded gently, "by New York Iced Teas, do you mean Long Island Iced Teas?"

All of a sudden Elsa had a quick memory of the cute guy behind the bar saying, "Whatever you want to call them, doll, but be careful as they pack a punch."  And she had giggled. She groaned again.  "Maybe a hot shower before the party will help." Slowly, she pushed off the sofa, which apparently was as far as she made it when she got home, and headed toward the bathroom.  

"Don't you want to check your phone?  It might be important," Anna called to her just before she left the room.

Did she want to check the messages now?  Not really.  "I'll check them when I get out.  It's probably just Ruby wanting me to pick up some last-minute item." With that, she shut the door and hoped a hot shower was powerful magic for what ailed her.

Harvard Campus Boston, MA Saturday, Late Afternoon

Henry sat next to Ruby on the hard metal chair, swinging his feet back and forth. He was feeling uncomfortable because he had to wear a shirt and a tie and he didn't like its tight fit. He had tried using Killian's motto of it being important for his chest to breathe, but Blue had rolled her eyes at him and told him to get dressed. That had been hours ago, and now here he sat being strangled by his tie, even though secretly he felt very important that he was the only kid who had been invited to Emma and Killian's graduation.

"Ruby," he whispered, "when does it start?”

She smiled down at him and patted him on the leg. "Oh, not for a while yet."

"Then why," he frowned at her, "are we here so early?"

"Because, silly," she grinned, "we wanted a good seat."

Henry looked around at the sea of people sitting around him and mentally shrugged his shoulders.  If she says so, he thought as he went back to swinging his legs to see how close he could get to the chair in front of him without actually touching it.  When he accidentally kicked it and the lady sitting in there turned around and gave him a dirty look, he gave her what Blue always referred to as his charming smile. He thought about continuing the game, but when Ruby laid her hand on his leg, he humphed and stopped.  Adults can be so annoying, he thought as he tucked his hands under his legs and resumed looking around.

But that thought brought him to the way that Blue, Ruby and even Marion had been acting all week since they had told him that Emma and Killian had gone away for a few days.  They thought that just because he was a kid, he didn't notice these things, but he was ten-years-old, after all.  Something was up, he was sure of it, and those extra decorations at the Home were a part of it.  

"Ruby," he leaned closer, "why are there so many people here?"

"Because there are a lot of people graduating," she answered.

He thought that over for a few seconds before asking, "So how does this graduation work?"

“Well," she began in a patient voice, "in a minute all of the graduates will come in and sit down.  Then there will be speeches.  Then they will call out names, and once the graduates leave, then we can too."

"This is going to take forever, isn't it?" he sighed.

"Probably," she agreed.  "Want to play something on my phone while we wait?"

"I guess," he grunted.  Her phone didn't have as many fun games on it as his did, but it was better than nothing.  Settling on one, he kept busy until the music started and he could keep an eye out for Emma, Killian and Robin.

Hospital for Special Surgery New York, NY Saturday, Late Afternoon

Robin had known the minute Regina appeared outside the rehab room, and when she didn't immediately come inside assumed she was allowing him time to complete his therapy.  But when she shoved her phone in her pocket and he caught the frown that made its way across her face, he knew there was more to the picture.

"We ‘bout done here, Will?  My lady looks lonely.”

Will looked toward where Regina was standing and back at Robin. "Look like a lovesick fool, you do."

"That's because I am," Robin agreed cheekily. "We done?  I need to say hello properly.”

Will smirked at his comment. "'Ere, 'ere.  None of that 'ere in the 'ospital."

"Not even a little?" Robin inquired, "Especially if she's the love of your life," he finished quietly.

"Like that, is it?" Robin nodded his head. "Then I say, if you're lucky enough to find someone that you love, and she loves you, you grab on with both hands and don't let go."

"Oh, I don't plan on letting go...ever." Robin finished just as the lady in question walked up.

"What are you two so deep in discussion about?" Regina asked them, lifting a thin eyebrow.

Her prissy voice, thought Robin, reaching for her hand to draw her close, really turned him on.  Of course, if he told her that, she might very well tell him to sod off, so he just grinned and kissed her hand. "Oh, we were just discussing what type of behaviors might not be appropriate in the hospital. Would you like to guess?" He did his best to give her a lascivious smile, and when she blushed knew he had succeeded.  

"Oh?  I'm sure I can guess." She cut her eyes away from his to look around the room as if afraid of what else might be said.

Her insecurities were so endearing that he found it difficult not to pull her down onto his lap and show her a thing or two that might not be appropriate in the hospital, but things he really wanted to experience with her. "Am I free to go, Will?" he asked without dragging his eyes away from Regina.

Will sighed dramatically, "Off with you, then," and turned the wheelchair handles toward Regina.  "See you Monday."

"Thanks, Will," Robin called as Regina pushed the chair out of the rehab room and into the hallway. 

"Where to, Robin?  Do you want to get some fresh air?”

Did he want to go outside where there might be dozens of other families visiting on a Saturday afternoon or back to the privacy of his room?  "Can we go back to the room first?"

She didn't say anything as she pushed him back to his room, but he could tell something was on her mind.  He hoped that once they were settled where it was quiet, she would open up to him about what was going on to cause such a frown.

“Here we are." She pushed his chair over beside the window. "Would you like something to drink?"

He nodded his head and watched her get him a glass of water, and while he drank it, she kept tucking her hair behind her ear and worrying the lipstick off her lips.  He handed the cup back for her to set on the table and when she turned back his way, he pulled her down onto the arm of the chair and back into his arms.  "This is what I really need," he said against her lips just before taking possession of them.  The minute she gave in, he kissed her with the pent-up feelings he'd been holding onto. After longing for her for months, being with her but not really with her was rather hard and if they didn't stop, painful might have to be added to the description.  

She felt so good in his arms, he groaned with pleasure, not realizing it could have misinterpreted when she pushed out of his arms and stood up. "Robin, I'm sorry," she apologized. "Are you in pain?  Should I call the nurse?"

He gave her a cheeky smile and pointedly looked down at his lap and back up at her.  "I'm not sure this kind of pain fits under her job description, do you?"

When she realized what he had said, her eyes widened in surprise and her cheeks blushed.  "Oh, you," she exclaimed quietly.  

"I'll behave," he promised.  "Sit with me and tell me why you were frowning earlier.”

Boston, MA Saturday Late Afternoon

When Elsa came out of the bathroom with a head that was only slightly pounding, she considered it a win.  She settled into an overstuffed chair and, with her feet tucked underneath her, leaned her head against the back.  "How could I be so dumb?”

"Oh, that's easy," Anna piped up.

Elsa lifted her head giving her sister a dirty look. "Gee, thanks."

Anna grinned and shrugged her shoulder. "You're welcome. Now check your phone.  Do you need me, cause if not I'm off to the hospital?" She gathered her things, ready to leave no matter what the answer ended up being. 

Elsa figured there was more to that story than she knew but decided it could wait 'til another day.  "I'm good.  Where's my phone?"

Picking it up off the table, Anna tossed it in her lap and was out the door with only a brief wave.  

Elsa stared at the closed door and again wondered what was going on with Anna, but with a shake of her head she mentally saved it for later. Picking up her phone, she looked at it expecting to see a message from Ruby asking her to pick up something for the party.  Instead there were multiple messages from Regina as well as a voicemail"Elsa, It's Regina.  I'm sorry that I disappeared with no warning, but something happened.  Give me a call when you get this message and I'll try to explain."

"Oh no," Elsa murmured as she dialed Regina's cell phone. "Pick up.  Come on, pick up," she chanted over and over.

"Hello," she heard Regina answer somewhat breathlessly.

"Regina.  It's Elsa. What happened?"  As the entire story came out, Elsa found herself unable to sit still and, pushing up, paced back and forth in front of the chair.

She learned about Robin and that he was in a hospital in New York City.  Regina then went on to explain that Killian had been in a coma for a few days but had awakened and been taken to Newark airport.  There the story got murkier as no one knew exactly where he had gone.  

But that wasn't the biggest mystery.  The biggest mystery surrounded Emma and her injuries.   Because everyone knew that if Emma had still been in the hospital, Killian would have been by her side. Not wanting to jump to any conclusions until she had talked to Killian, she shoved the worry aside for the moment but the question remained.  What had become of Emma?

"Oh, Regina. How awful for you to have to get that call. But I'm glad Robin has you.  How are things between you two?"  Elsa was curious as to how much Regina would confess now that her title as Robin's professor was over.

"Things are good, Elsa.  In fact, really good.  He's going to stay with me when he's discharged from here."

"I'm so happy to hear that.  You both deserve such happiness.  Do you mind if I speak with Robin a minute, just to assure myself he's fine.”

She heard Regina hand Robin the phone, and their conversation was so intimate and so different from the last time that she had seen them together that she couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face nor the tears that filled her eyes.   They had waited so long to be together and now, though tragedy had struck, they had each other.  "Elsa?" her friend's voice came through the line. "How are you?"

"How am I, you big dumbass?   How are you?  I really should kick your ass when I see you for not letting me know about the accident sooner.   I'm so mad at you," she sniffed, "but very happy that you finally got the girl.” 

Robin chuckled, "Breathe, Elsa.  You sounded a bit too much like Anna there for a second.   I'm fine and I'm sorry you worried." She heard him ask Regina what day it was before he continued, "How was graduation?”

"It was graduation.  But tell me about you."  She learned a little more about what was in his near future, medically and that he hoped to be out of the hospital the following week.  

She promised him that as soon as they hung up, she would go see if she could track down Killian.  

She heard Robin hand the phone back to Regina. "He's really okay?”

Elsa could hear the smile in Regina's voice, "He's more than okay, Elsa.  But yes, he's going to be fine.  He's getting great care, and when I get him home I'm going to give him even better care."

She overheard Robin make a suggestive remark. "Hey TMI!" she exclaimed, "I didn't need to hear that!" and laughed at Regina scolding Robin.  They are going to be just fine, she thought before pulling her thoughts back to her other friend involved in the accident. "What can I do from this end?"

"You really didn't know anything about the accident?" Regina had taken control of the phone again and the tone of her voice said she had expected someone else had relayed the information about the accident.

"No, nothing." She chewed on her bottom lip thinking that right now, Ruby, Henry, and Blue were waiting for Emma's name to be called at graduation. "Which means that neither do Ruby or Blue or any of Emma's other friends.  I need to go and let them know."

"Thanks, Elsa.  Please call or send a text if you find Killian or if you find out anything about Emma.”

Hanging up the phone, Elsa felt a sense of urgency take hold and ran to the bedroom to throw on a pair of jeans and an old shirt.  She had just slipped on her sneakers when there was a knock at the door.  On the way to answer it, she drew a brush through her still wet hair and pulled it into a high ponytail. When she opened the door, all rational responses flew out of her head as she was left gasping at the sight before her.

Killian Jones, who always looked put together, was anything but. He was on his feet, but barely, his body seeming to sag against the wall and his knuckles standing out white where he was gripping the crutch too tightly.  His face was pale against his dark beard that had grown long and scraggly, and when he opened his eyes, his haunted gaze pierced her very soul.  She knew before he even opened his mouth that it was going to be bad. "Killian?" she whispered brokenly as the tears sprang to her eyes.

He swallowed audibly, obviously attempting to hold himself under control. "The key, Elsa.  Please tell me you have the key." His whisper was that of a soul who had been tortured and was hanging on by a minuscule thread.

She felt a tear trickle over, spilling down her cheek as she reached on a shelf and picked up Emma's extra key.  With measured steps, she advanced toward him, handing it to him carefully.  "Emma? Killian, where's Emma?"

He closed his eyes, and with moisture leaking from the corners, whispered words she expected, but she wasn't ready to hear, "She's gone, Elsa.  Emma is gone."

The shock of the words hit her with such force her phone fell out of her hands and bounced on the stairs, shattering. She couldn't move, feeling as if she were paralyzed with her feet nailed in place.  Unsure what to say or how to comfort this man who had loved her friend more than life itself, she reached out to squeeze his arm, but he shrank away from her comfort.

"I can't. I need time." His body sagged even further as he turned away to open the door.

Her mind was going in a million directions, thinking of all the things that needed to be done. "Has anyone notified Blue?" she finally asked him. When he shook his head no, she decided that she would do this for her friend.  "I'll handle it.  Do you need anything?"

He didn't say anything right away, just leaned his forehead against the door of their apartment. Finally, he lifted his head and whispered so softly, that she had to strain to hear him, "Emma.  I just need Emma."

New York City, NY Saturday, Early Evening

On the way to Newark International Airport, Liam had tried several times to get Killian to open up to him, but the way every attempt was shut down, it seemed that the brothers had truly switched places. This time, Killian was the one who wouldn't listen or talk, which reiterated what a wanker Liam had been for years.  And now within the span of a week, his brother and the woman he planned to make his wife had unknowingly started mending the pieces that had once been his heart; the heart that had shattered on that fateful day when he had walked into his apartment and found that his ideas of love and commitment were not the same as the woman he had married. He was finally admitting that he had become a bitter man who cared for no one's feelings but his own and who had treated his only living family as if he was still the lad he needed to protect. The man he had become was not someone he liked looking at in the mirror.  Was he strong enough to put his heart and his family back together again.

Arriving home, he dropped his phone, keys and wallet on the table next to the door and immediately walked to the large set of windows lining one side.  As dusk settled over the city, the lights spread out before him, reaching as far as the eye could see.  And here he stood all alone, which was just what he deserved.  

He had stopped by the office, thinking since it was Saturday, he might as well catch up on some of the work he had put off while spending time at the hospital.  But even that had proven to be a bad idea, as he had spent nearly the entire time staring off into space.  His thoughts had been on Killian.  Worrying about Killian, except...this time, it wasn't just Killian, but also Emma's well-being that occupied his mind.  And that was a foreign concept for him, thinking of someone else.   Caring about someone that he had never really met.  

Finally accepting that he wasn’t going to get any work done, he hadn't been ready to go home to a too-quiet place, and ended up at the gym. However, after only a mile on the treadmill, he had given it up and taken a walk through Central Park.  Once again, as he walked his thoughts had been on Killian and Emma and the journey they had ahead of them.  According to the doctor, Emma's injuries were substantial, and she would need a strong support system.  Would Killian be all she needed?  If not, and she needed more, was it possible that he, too, would be allowed into their circle? Could they forgive his behavior?

Emma and her wounds filled his mind, and wondering how long it would be before she was well, he turned on his laptop and researched her injuries.  His findings led him to believe that by sometime in August, her broken bones would be healed and the surgeries to replace her facial bones and teeth would be completed.  Meaning that before the fall, perhaps, they would have a chance to work together to be a family. Was that possible?

When the plastic bag with Emma's belongings caught his eye, he wondered if he had the courage to get to know her through the photos on her phone, something he hadn't had the strength to do just a few days ago.  The fact that it was still in his apartment and not with Killian brought to mind other questions.  Why hadn’t he given it to his brother?  Had he worried he'd have to explain why he had it? Perhaps.  Had he worried Killian would have demanded taking it to her right then?  Possibly.  But more than likely, it was because he hadn't been thinking about her, but about Killian and what Killian needed.  Another situation where he had thought of his brother as a lad and not a man.

When the screen on her phone lit up with an incoming text, he blinked several times, wondering whom it was from.  Did they know about the accident?  Unable to stop himself, he opened the bag and pulled out the phone, holding it out in front of him as if it were going to explode in his hand if he moved too quickly or brought it too close. It vibrated again as he stared at it, and noticing that there were multiple messages, his thumb hovered over the screen...until...he slid it across, and the image would be forever engraved on his mind. 

He was looking at a picture of a man and a woman who were so totally besotted with each other that the world around them seemed to not exist.  The look, he was more than familiar with as it had been the same look his parents had given each other when they had been alive.  A look that said you are my everything.  A look, he acknowledged, that he had never shared with Lily. His little brother had been lucky to find the person who gave him that look.  Damn, little brother, how did you get so lucky?

Scrolling through her photos, he began to get a feel of the woman behind the pretty face.  There were pictures of her with not only Killian and Robin, but with other women.   A brunette and two blondes, a redhead, all smiling or laughing. Several older women and children, even the little boy Liam vaguely remembered from the report he had been given.  Was he Emma's as the investigator assumed? 

Liam placed Emma's phone back inside the bag and tucked it into the corner of his desk.  If Killian stayed in Seattle with her the entire time she was recuperating, then he had a few months to try to become a man that Killian could look in the eye and respect.  To try to become that brother that he deserved.  He was determined that when they arrived, he would be waiting with open arms and an open heart.  

 Boston, MA Saturday Early Evening    

As soon as Elsa was gone, Killian slipped the key in the lock and pushed open the door.  He knew returning was going to hurt but nothing had prepared him for the distress he felt when the memories bombarded him the minute he stepped over the threshold. Kissing her against the door, loving her on the sofa, watching her sit at the table and study.  One by one, the memories washed over him, causing him to feel so desolate that he was forced to lean on the sofa to maintain his balance.

When he pushed off, it took every ounce of strength he had left not to run out of the room but to move farther inside, closer to the spot where, during the last night they spent under this roof, he had asked her to marry him for the second time.  But this time, he had slipped a ring on her finger.  His words haunted him in how true they had proven to be.

"Swan, I know there are parts of our immediate future that are uncertain, but I want you to be sure of one thing.  And that is that I will always, always be by your side."

However, he had failed her, and he had to live with that knowledge for the rest of his days.  But how?  How did one live without one's heart?  She had been his heart, and without her in his arms and by his side, he felt that his heart had been ripped from his chest and crushed, a description that he had heard before from Liam.  Was that the destiny of the Jones men?  To forever be alone?

A few measured steps and his question was answered when his eye caught a picture of Emma, Henry and him, taken when they had gone whale watching. So, no, he might be without his mate, but he was not alone.  There was Henry who needed him now...but could he give him everything he needed with a missing heart? After all, there was only one Killian Jones.  Was there still enough to go around?

She's everywhere, he thought, as he picked up one of the sketch pads he never saw her without. The dates on the inside cover indicated the drawings were before he had moved to the states, but as with any of her work, he was immediately captivated. He found his eye drawn again and again to her renderings of Captain Hook and how closely her imagination had made him Killian Jones' twin, creating a feeling they had met in another realm and had been searching for their other halves to make them whole.

"And I did, Swan," he whispered as his finger traced the drawing, imagining he was holding Emma's hand as she moved it over the paper.  "I searched my whole life to find you, and now..." the words died as a sob bubbled up inside and the pages blurred.  The pain becoming too much to bear, he tossed the book aside, making his way to the bathroom to take a hot shower.  As the water creaked through the old pipes, he took off the brace and groaned in pain as his knee protested.  Dropping the clothes Liam had given him earlier, he stepped into the hot shower and let the steady pulsing spray pound against his aching head.

It didn't take long, though, for his mind to no longer find rest under the hot water, because as it splashed, Emma's scent quickly filled the space. Within minutes all he could feel were her soft arms circling his waist, her womanly body pressing against his back and her hands working their magic until he had taken her against the wall.   Turning his face up to the shower spray, the water mingled with his tears, and as the despair rose up from inside, his cry echoed around him sounding more like a wounded animal than that of a man.

He stayed that way until the water ran cold, and then hauled his weary body out, drying and dressing in an old tee and sleep pants.  A glance in the mirror told him it wasn't Killian Jones looking back at him, but the scraggly beard reminded him of the Liam as he had looked…was it just last weekend? Using his electric razor, he quickly straightened his beard until once again, the scruff in place, he was looking at the man he had been for the past few months.    But that man didn't feel right, either.  He had told Robin that unshaven Killian had given him luck.  But unshaven Killian now was only feeling pain.   Before he could change his mind, the scruff was gone and a clean-faced Killian Jones' eyes met his in the mirror. The eyes couldn't be fixed as easily. The eyes were windows to his soul, and they showed the truth.  

Leaving his image behind, he walked into the bedroom where Emma's easel was the thing he saw first.  She had placed it next to the bed before they left, telling him that as soon as they returned, she would show him his gift.  Could he look at it without her?  Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and slowly reached out his hand to yank off the covering.  As the picture slowly came into view, he found his legs would no longer support his weight and slid down onto the edge of the bed, instantly transported back in time.

"I believe when two souls are destined to meet, when they become one, nothing can pull them apart.  Today, with these beads, I thee wed for as long as this rock, this earth, this sea and the sky shall live.  And I promise you that I will never forget these beads and our promise to each other and what they stand for. I love you Killian."

"And I promise to always be there when you need me and to never, ever say goodbye to you. I love you Emma."

She had painted their cliff with the rock and the water and the trees, blended together on the canvas as if they were living and breathing. When he closed his eyes, he could smell the seawater, feel the breeze blowing across his skin and hear her telling him how much she loved him in that sweet voice he loved so much, and as the pain washed over him, he couldn't breathe.  

Falling back, he buried his face in the pillows and let everything inside bubble over and spill out.  The smell of her surrounded him, bringing with it not comfort, but more pain, squeezing his chest painfully until he gasped for breath and slid down onto the floor.  As the tears cascaded down his face, his eyes stared up at her creation and rocking back and forth, he whispered, "I love you, Swan," over and over again.

Boston, MA Saturday Evening  

When the car was parked in front of the Home, Blue sent Henry inside to change before turning to Ruby. "This wasn't your fault." She hoped to calm her down, as she had noticed how tightly Ruby was gripping the steering wheel on the way home.

Ruby didn't say anything for a few minutes, just stood there worrying her bottom lip before she finally mumbled, "But the-"

"No buts," Blue interrupted before any negative thoughts could be spoken where they might take root and grow.  "No black ball is able to tell you the future. I told you girls that when you were growing up, and it’s still true today."

"I know, Blue.  But this isn't like Emma." She looked at her watch. "And Victor will be here in thirty minutes for us to catch our flight, so...”

Hooking her arm with Ruby's, Blue directed them toward the house. "I know you're worried, Ruby, and so am I, but you have a responsibility to be on that ship for the next six months.  I will keep you posted.”

"Promise?" Ruby sighed, knowing there was really no other option.

"I promise." As soon as she felt Ruby relax, Blue squeezed her hand and continued, "Since we stayed on campus waiting, Ashley and Elsa should already be inside.  Let's go see if they've heard from Emma or Killian."

Walking toward the door, something told Blue that once inside they wouldn't find out any more information about Emma than they already knew, and were going to have to expand their questioning.  She felt her mama bear protective streak rising up inside her, something she hadn't had to use since the incident with Neal, and knew that she wouldn't rest until she had found all the answers she needed.

Seattle, WA Saturday, Early Evening PST

David slipped behind his wife and wrapped his arms around her, resting his hands on the gentle swell of her stomach. "How are we feeling?"

"We," she leaned back against him, "are feeling fine.  How was your emergency?"

He helped her set the table, and once they had each helped themselves to the various Chinese takeout items he had brought home, filled her in on what had taken him to the hospital on a Saturday afternoon.

When he was finished with his story, Mary Margaret contemplated him with her professional eye. "There's more, isn't there David?" she asked him quietly.

He should have known she would be able to see right through him as he slowly got up from his chair and pulled the picture from his briefcase.  "I stopped by to check on Emma on my way out and found this."  He handed her the picture.

He watched her catch her breath as she studied the drawing and when she looked up, her eyes were glassy.  "Oh dear.  That poor girl."

David wasn't sure he had ever seen her so empathetic over an amnesiac before and pulling her into his arms, letting her cry on his shoulder. "If she's calling herself Kate Blue, can Emma Swan find her way back?”

It took her a few minutes to control herself but when she did, she picked up the picture once again.  "Emma's in pain for some reason, but yes.  She will be back, stronger and more beautiful than ever. Until then, if she feels stronger as Kate Blue, then I’m going to allow it.  But I’ll never stop trying to get her to remember Emma.  You can count on that." 

Boston, MA Saturday Evening EST

Henry wasn't stupid and could tell that the adults were worried about Emma and Killian, but thought if they kept it to themselves, he wouldn't know. He knew.  He also knew that Blue was trying to act calm for the sake of all the other adults around her, but he had caught her wiping her eyes with a tissue.  He knew it was something bad.  

Ruby and Victor had driven off a while ago after a lot of hugging and tears, but after she had promised to send him some really cool stuff, he had given her one more hug and waved goodbye.  Ashley and Sean were somewhere in the house with their baby, Alex, trying to get her to go to sleep, and everyone else was waiting for Elsa. Apparently, her sister, Anna, had told Blue that Elsa had planned on attending the party, but no one had heard directly from Elsa herself.   He had to wonder about adults sometimes, as he got in trouble if he didn't check in. Yet, here it was almost a week since he'd heard from Emma and Killian and he hadn’t heard from them.  He didn't think Roland had heard from Robin either, and yet, chances were, they didn’t see anything wrong with their actions. There was something wrong with that picture, as Blue would say.

Watching out the window of his bedroom, he caught sight of Elsa running up the walk, and without thinking he took off down the stairs.  He reached the first floor just in time to see Blue quiet her and then quickly lead her down the hall toward the offices. He followed quietly, taking care not to step on the squeaky boards and listened outside the door.

"Blue," Elsa took deep breaths and tried to get her breathing under control. "Have you heard about the accident?"

"Accident?  No nothing. Tell me." Blue sounded upset but he didn’t think she was crying yet.

Elsa told Blue about talking to Regina and hearing that Emma, Killian and Robin had all been involved in a horrible car accident on Monday. She went on to say that Robin was in New York having to learn how to walk again.

"Oh, that poor boy," Blue exclaimed. "I'll have to contact his father. Did Regina know anything about Emma or Killian?"

When Elsa started speaking again, her voice softened, and Henry thought she might be crying, but since he didn't want to risk being seen, he stayed hidden.  "I saw Killian, Blue.  He looks awful, not only physically, but his eyes are haunted. He looked like he was barely able to hold himself together.  

"And our girl, Elsa.  What of Emma?"

This time, Elsa was crying so hard, Henry had trouble understanding her, but when she said, "Killian refused to talk to me but he did say one thing." She sniffed and blew her nose before continuing, "He said, 'Emma is gone.' How can that be, Blue?"

The minute Henry heard those words, he didn't wait around to hear anything else.  He needed to get to Killian and find out what was going on.  Grabbing his jacket and one of the extra Charlie Cards for the T, he took off running before anyone could stop him.  He needed to find Killian and he needed to find him now.

CS~CS~CS

The knock on the door roused Killian from where he had slouched against the side of the bed, trying to escape from his grief.  But it didn't seem to matter where he was or what he was doing, the grief continued to bombard him, sometimes just a little and other times it overwhelmed him, coming in waves. Not interested in hearing any platitudes he ignored the knocking until it came again. This time louder, more forcefully.  

As he made his way to the door, he wiped his face and prepared to face questions that he wasn't ready to think about or even talk about, but when he opened the door, instead of questions, he was met by the rush of a small, but sturdy body.  Henry wrapped his arms around Killian's legs and turned up his tear-stained face. "Is it true?  Is it true, Killian?  Is Emma gone?"

Killian looked down into the freckled face of the little boy who had come to mean so much to him and Emma, and wished he didn't have to break the child's heart. "Aye, lad.  It's true." He whispered brokenly.

"But it can't be true, Killian.  It can't be.  We need her," cried Henry.  "We were going to be a family."  Henry's little body was shaking so hard that, in his weakened state, Killian was afraid they were both going to fall.

Sliding toward the sofa, he sat down, pulling Henry onto his lap. As Henry relaxed against him, Killian leaned his cheek on the top of his head. "Is that what you want, Henry? To be a family?"

Henry nodded his head, snuggling even closer against Killian's chest.  "Then we shall.  And I know just the person to help make it happen."

~fin

And now we are at the bottom and there’s no where to go ut up...  However you will have to hold out till Jan 3 for Chapter 20, which shows a time jump until end of July/August.  In the meantime I’m working on a bit of Christmas fluff that takes place during Emma and Killian’s first Christmas together - which takes place during Chapter 8.  

[whimsicaldragonette]

Some Other Metal Than Earth (Part 2 of 5)

Part 1~ Part 2 (You are here)~ Part 3~ Part 4~ Part 5~

-Part 2: Tuesday-

Draco woke slowly, drifting out of a pleasant dream of floating somewhere warm, snuggling into sheets that were suddenly far too scratchy beneath his skin. He opened his eyes, scowling, and panicked for a second. Something was wrong with his eyes. He blinked, blearily trying to focus, and scowled as he registered that the (astonishingly blurry) fingers waving in front of his eyes were tanned golden-brown. Potter. It couldn’t be—

He threw back the curtains, fumbling on the table beside his bed for — yes, there they were. He grabbed the unfamiliar glasses and jammed them onto his nose, scowling harder as the room came into focus. He snorted as he took in the overwhelming red in the room. Gryffindors.

They all had their own tiny rooms this year, in the newly repurposed “Eighth-year” tower, so at least he didn’t have to worry about being interrogated by Potter’s gaggle of friends. Still. He glanced around the room again. Everything was draped in red and gold, with discarded Weasley sweaters and school robes tossed haphazardly over the dresser and wadded up on the floor.

Without really thinking about it, Draco started picking them up and gathering them into a neat pile for the house-elves to take and wash. He scowled when he realized what he was doing, but then shrugged. He didn’t know how long he’d be stuck in Potter’s body, but he was going to make damn sure he had clean robes to wear.

Potter.

Draco’s eyes widened. He needed to catch Potter before he gave them away! He quickly shucked off his pajamas, sneering at the violent orange Chudley Cannons t-shirt (though it was admittedly quite comfortable) and stuffed his arms into the sleeves of the first shirt he grabbed out of Potter’s closet. Pants were next, then robes and Draco hurriedly brushed his hair and left the room, knotting his tie about his neck as he went.

He paused in the door to the common room, looking frantically for Potter, and sighed in relief when he saw him. He was standing awkwardly by the fire, looking unsure of where to sit. This wasn’t really that much different than Draco’s normal morning routine, so no one seemed to have noticed.

He squared his shoulders and stalked up to — himself, which was decidedly odd — and said “Po-er-Malfoy!” He winced as it came off more confused than angry, and Granger looked over at them sharply. He rolled his eyes as he met his own gray eyes, clouded with confusion, and reached out to snag Potter’s sleeve, dragging him back toward their rooms. He changed his mind and ducked into the bathroom, checking quickly to make sure it was empty, then spelling the door shut with a hasty Colloportus.

“Malfoy!” Potter whisper-shouted. “Er, Potter. No. Ugh! Whatever.”

Draco sniggered.

Potter sighed, though his lips twitched a bit. “Seriously, Malfoy. What the hell?”

Draco reminded himself that he was supposed to be angry about this… whatever this was. “What the fuck did you put in that potion, Potter? It shouldn’t have done… this!” He waved his hand between their bodies.

“I dunno, Malfoy. Couldn’t make out the label. I think the question we ought to be asking is, what the fuck did you put in my potion, Malfoy?”

“Lacewing. Obviously.” He rolled his eyes. “It was supposed to just make your potion explode.”

Potter looked unimpressed. “Which it did.”

“Well. Yes. But it wasn’t supposed to do this. How was I supposed to know you’d screwed it up yourself?”

Potter arched one of his own pale eyebrows. Draco was surprised at just how much scorn his face could convey. “Really? How many years have we had Potions together, now?”

Draco snorted, amused despite himself. “Fair point, I suppose.” He pressed his fingers to his temple, starting as they brushed the faded lines of the scar. “Right. Well. We have to figure out what you put in, obviously, and why it reacted the way it did. And from there we can hopefully find a way to reverse it.”

“Hopefully?” Potter didn’t sound impressed.

“It’s the best I’ve got.”

“Why don’t we ask—“

“No. No. Not yet, anyway. Salazar, but this is embarrassing. The fewer people know about this, the better.”

“Well…” Potter hesitated. “Fine. What do we do now?”

“We’ll just have to pretend to be one another until we either reverse this or it wears off,” Draco said decisively, pretending to an authority he didn’t feel.

“Right. OK. I suppose I can do that.”

“Indeed. How difficult can it be to be you, Scarface? I mean, you’ve already offed the Dark Lord, so I won’t have to be constantly grappling with heroic death threats.” He put a hand to his forehead and pretended to swoon. “Oh! My heroic scar is burning. I shall have to faint. Heroically.”

Potter snorted. “You know, you’re actually pretty funny when you’re not being mean.”

Draco sobered instantly, feeling heat rise to his neck. “Yes, well. Forgot who I was talking to, is all.”

Potter stared at him, an odd expression on his face. Then he suddenly seemed to take in his appearance.

“What the fuck did you do to my hair, Malfoy? It looks like a hedgehog crawled onto your head and died.”

“What did I do? What in Salazar’s name do you do to tame it as much as you do? I always thought you just rolled out of bed, but…”

“Well… I kinda do. Did.”

“Clearly you still do. Potter, my hair is a work of art. You cannot possibly intend to go about looking like that!.” He snagged the sleeve of his robe again and dragged him toward the mirrors.

“Malfoy! What the hell?”

“Quiet, Potter. Now, where did I —ah. Just stand still, and for Merlin’s sake try to remember what I’m doing so I don’t have to sneak around to fix my own hair every morning.”

Potter watched dubiously as he worked, applying products and styling carefully. “I had no idea how much work it took to make your hair look that fabulous, Malfoy.”

Draco’s hand stilled, and he looked up to meet Potter’s gaze in the mirror. “Did — did you just say my hair was fabulous, Potter? Was that actually a compliment?”

“Shut up.”

Draco watched his own pale face flush and was struck once again by the strangeness of it all. At least his hair was fabulous. He snorted. “Come along, Potter. Before someone sees us.”

They hurried toward the Great Hall, just in time to meet Granger and Weasley on their way out. They’d missed breakfast, then.

“Harry!” Weasley shouted, “There you are! What did he do to you? Did he hurt you?”

Potter looked confused. “Wait. What? Who?”

Granger shot them another odd look. “Malfoy. Harry.” She turned to Draco. “Are you sure you’re OK? He just dragged you off for the entirety of breakfast and— oh, my goodness!” Her eyes widened. “Did he obliviate you? That could get him in serious trouble! We have to tell McGonagall.”

“Hermione!” Draco said, shooting Potter a warning look. “Stop. I’m fine. He just had a question for me, and then I didn’t feel like going to class, so I went for a walk.”

“A walk.”

“Yes?”

“With Malfoy?”

“Er.”

“Come on ‘Mione,” Weasley said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and frowning at them. “We’re gonna be late for Charms.”

“Oh!” She clutched her bag closer and turned to follow him, then hesitated. “You’re sure you’re all right, Harry?” She bit her lip, clearly torn.

“I’m fine,” Draco said, crossing his fingers behind his back and hoping her desire to avoid being late would win out. He sighed a minute later as it did. They’d only put off the conversation, he knew, but at least he’d have some time to think about how he wanted to play this.

Draco stalked across the eighth year common room, fuming. He grabbed Potter’s arm as he passed and hauled him into the corner, away from the game of exploding snap that was occupying the rest of their year. “Potter! Do you know how many autographs I had to sign today? My hand is going numb. And I was followed around all day by a gaggle of tiny girls. Tiny! First years! How do you do it?”

Potter nodded sagely, snickering. Draco suspected that was only possible because Potter was still wearing Draco’s much more aristocratic features. “That, my friend, is what the invisibility cloak and Marauders Map are for.”

“You’ve been holding out on me, Potter,” he grumbled, interested despite himself.

Potter grinned at him. “Nah, you just never asked. Come on — I’ll show you. And I’ll protect you from the ickle firsties.”

“Shut up.”

“This way; they’re in my trunk.” He paused. “Not the first-years, that is. The map and, er, cloak.” He bit his lip.

Draco smirked. “Wasn’t gonna say a word.”

Draco stared at the blank parchment that lay open on Harry’s palm, unimpressed. “What does that do, then?”

Potter adopted an odd expression that was probably supposed to be mysterious. “Just watch.” He turned to the parchment, pointed his wand at it, and intoned “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

Suddenly, a detailed map of the castle unfurled across the parchment, with tiny footprints marching along it, labeled with names.

Draco quickly forgot he was supposed to be irritated. “That is so cool!”

Potter’s serious expression morphed into a conspiratorial grin. “Told you.” he tapped the parchment again. “Mischief managed.” The writing disappeared. “And you’ve not even seen the best part.”

He rummaged through his trunk again, this time coming up with a length of silvery cloth draped over one arm.

“Now you see me,” he swirled the cloak over his shoulders, “now you don’t.”

Draco blinked. Where Potter had just stood was nothing. Empty space. He reached out experimentally.

“Ow. It makes you invisible, Malfoy. Not incorporeal.”

“Hmm. That would be useful. But I can see that these would help you avoid the screaming fans, yes.”

“Yeah, well. Just take care of them. I’m not sure if McGonagall knows I brought those back with me, and I don’t fancy getting them confiscated.”

Part 1~ Part 2 (You are here)~ Part 3~ Part 4~ Part 5~

You can also read on AO3, FF, Wattpad

[shadcatmastered]

Kid x Law - FF - Kids And Killers Past - Part 2

It was a strange feeling to have a friend. A feeling Kid didn’t know, and he had to admit that in the beginning he was not very nice to Killer. Oh, he hid him, consecrated him to his plans, and stayed with him. But he did not trust him. Kid just didn’t know it better. He had never learned in his young life what it meant to trust or even what it meant to be nice to someone. He only knew the war and the cruelty. He didn’t remember anything more than this. When Killer asked him, he could not even tell him how old he was. Kid just didn’t know it. When he got away from his parents, he had been too young to remember the date of his birthday. He only knew that it was sometime in the winter. At least what you could call winter in a desert area. In the end, he estimated himself to be six or seven years old. It had to be one of them. The soldiers had not really noticed that Killer was not one of their children. They had seen the bodies in the tent and identified the dead body of an enemy. Kid had claimed that he had killed the child soldier. The reaction to it came immediately. The two soldiers who came into their tent beat Kid until he could not move and his arm was at a strange angle. They were furious with how he dared kill an enemy for them. He would make them look as if they were weak! It was their job to kill the enemies! When they were gone, Killer had come to his side in total horror. Kid had grinned only with his lip open when he had his arm back in a single jerk. "I told you it's not going to be a nice life. But at least you live." The blond boy's bright blue eyes had looked at him and then nodded in earnest. Kid understood in that moment. Killer learned just as he learned. Kid also knew where his previous sympathy had come from. Although he didn’t know the boy and he was a lot older, he was like him. They had a darkness that was the same. ...it was good that he had helped him. The time with Killer was nice. For the first time there was someone who was interested in the redhead. Killer forgave Kid his remorse. He forgave him that he did not trust him and that sometimes he was very mean to him. Killer did not leave, no matter what Kid said or did. He cared for him as if he had found a little brother. The authority of the redhead was untouched. Kid decided from the beginning. Although they discussed together, but Kid made always the final decision. Although he was younger. In hindsight, Kid had to say that they would probably never have become friends if it were otherwise. Someone who had always fought alone, needed someone like Killer. Months passed and Kid noticed how he liked Killer. It was a strange feeling to like someone. But also nice. It was suddenly as if the pains had become less and the darkness brighter. No matter how bad the situation was or how badly their wounds were bleeding, somehow they could still laugh about it and indeed it was also fun to stick out their tongues behind the backs of the soldiers. Kid wouldn’t have done something so senseless earlier. It was no longer just about survival, it was also about life. So it felt like trusting someone. Kid could not remember what it was like to cuddle with someone. When Killer embraced him the first time sometime in the night, he tensed. His body waited for the pain of the blows. But it didn’t come. Instead, there was just warm closeness. It took a few minutes before Kid could relax. Then he tried to imitate Killer's movements and hugged him as well. He had not realized how good that felt. That night, he slept better than ever. Afterwards, they cuddled almost every night. The nights were more bearable when you had a friend. Sometimes they talked about what they should do when they were free. They didn’t belong to any country and they had no relatives. They had no home and no place to go. So the world was free for them. It was Killer's voice that whispered softly at night. "Hey Kid, shall I tell you which kind of people the people in my village feared? Pirates. The people in my village were always afraid of the pirates and no one dared to mess with them. These are people who do not listen to any law and are always free. They are always out to sea. And many of them are looking for something. Something called the One Piece. Nobody knows what exactly is, but it should be a treasure of immense size. Let's become pirates when we get out of here." Kid thought that was a great idea. On the bad days, he often thought of it and whenever they had the power to dream, they talked about their future at sea. Of course, this beautiful time of rest did not last long. Something had to happen again. As always something happened. Their country was losing the war. Everyone talked about it and their attacks were no longer successful. They were not withdrawn, but also no longer encouraged. There were no new weapons, no new soldiers and no new children. At some point, even the last got it: they were left to die. Of course, the mood was tense. The soldiers hit so hard that many of the children died from the wounds. They hardly got anything to eat anymore and did not have a minute to spare. Kid and Killer had to disappear. Real quick. Otherwise they would experience their last day here. But how should they do that? The solution to their problems came to them practically. In the form of a fruit. A great deal of amazement and relief went through their camp when they received final support from the military base. They sent a devil fruit to their commander. A fruit that was so strong that they could still win the war! The power to control metal. When Kid and Killer heard that, they shared a look. Everything on the field of war was metal! The bullets, the knives, many pieces of clothing! Who could control metal, could control the entire war! "If we have the power of this fruit, we could finally go!" Kids voice was a hotter whisper and Killer nodded solemnly. "We will get this fruit and you will eat it, then freedom belongs to us." They grinned at each other. That was it. Your whole plan. Either they died trying to get that fruit, or they got the freedom. There was nothing more. Of course, the devil fruit was well guarded. When she came to the camp, it was late night. She was accompanied by soldiers and taken to the commander's tent. Kid and Killer agreed to work this night. On gentle steps they had stepped off and were now following the grape to soldiers. It was smart that they brought it at night. Most of the other people here didn’t even notice the arrival of the fruit. Killer had suggested that they should stay awake every night and sleep alternately during the day. How clever Killer had been. The fruit was brought into the tent of the commander and the soldiers left the tent. Softly Kid and Killer sneaked in. Dipped in the shadows and with dark dirt on their bodies. The redhead would never forget how quickly his heart beat as he saw the fruit in the hands of the commandant. The commander was a man of about 40 years, muscular and with full black hair. Above all, he was a cruel man. The cruelest of them all. The look he had in his eyes as he looked at the fruit was horrifying. If he got the power, he would kill everyone. No matter if enemy or friend. Nobody would survive. Kid looked at Killer and he nodded. Kid carried the military knife he had taken from Killer's old military clothes many months ago. Killer had two big sickles in his hand, which they used to get the dry bushes from the desert earth. They both turned and stalked the commander on bare feet. Kids nerves were torn to shreds and just as the commander opened his mouth to bite off the fruit, Kid ran from behind. He aimed the knife between the commander's ribs, right into his vital organs. He just had to hit ...! He had to do it ..! The redhead threw up his hand and then the commandant turned around. Their eyes met. At that moment, Kid knew that his young life was over. The man's gaze screamed for death. Before the redhead could even twitch, the commander stepped forward. He kicked the child with such force that Kid felt his ribs break as he was thrown to the other end of the tent wall. Pain made red spots dance in front of his eyes and Kid spit blood to the ground. He turned his head toward the commander, but all he could see was the underside of his boot. "You disgusting brat! If you want to die so badly, you can have it!" The redhead jerked his arms up, but it did not help. The commander came forward with a force, as if he wanted to break his skull! Kid screamed. He screamed in pain as the boot broke his forearms and hit his head. Before his eyes it was black and dizzy. His broken arms dropped limply from his head. Blurred he could see how the commander raised his foot again. Then he saw Killer charge at the man. With raised sickles he jumped from behind on the commander and could actually injured his back ...! But then the man's hand seized Killer's throat and the devil fruit fell to the ground. Kids look turned black. He could do nothing against the patches of powerlessness that struck him. When his eyes flared open, he saw something horrible. Something so terrible that he tried to get up and only screamed when his broken arms gave way. “NO! KILLER!” The commandant had spiteful excitement in his face as he held the boy's face into the flame of a torch. The fire licked Killer's face and Kid screamed as he saw his skin crack in blisters and horribly see the white jaw bones. "NO!" He could not let him die! He could not let that happen! Kids look fell on the devil fruit. It was only a few feet ahead of him. Kid ignored his broken bones. He ignored his pain. …Killer! He pulled his damaged body forward. He crawled to the devil fruit and felt it for the first time. The infinite anger. The pure madness. The unstoppable murder lust. He opened his mouth and bit off. Full of madness Kid tore the pieces from the fruit and swallowed them without chewing them. There was only one thought in his head: He had to rescue Killer! He had to save him! Kid ate and ate before he felt it. He felt how it worked. He felt his body change forever. How his perception changed. How he got different. The little weak boy was dead. Now the true Kid Eustass was born. The commander turned to face him and sheer shock swept over his face when he saw what Kid had done. He released Killer, who hit the ground and did not even flinch. "WHAT have you done?!" His voice was a terrible thunder. His footsteps approached Kid. But Kid was not scared anymore. He never had to be scared again. The commander wore a metal belt buckle. Kid focused on it and used his new power. He pushed the commander out with all his might. He cried out for a moment as he was flung away like a doll. Then Kid got up. He stood on trembling legs, his golden eyes streaking with madness. He would kill him! He would kill them all! He lifted his arms from him. Both forearms were broken. But if his body was too weak, it was not the metal! He put on all the metal in the tent and from outside. It wrapped itself around his arms and Kid began to grin. It was a grin full of madness and anger. He creates new hands and arms. Made of pure metal. Much bigger and much more powerful than anything ever before. Now he had his big hands, which grabbed the little ones and tore them apart! Kid clenched a fist and struck the commander's skull. His blood splashed over Kids Body and he laughed. His first murder! And it felt so good! Even better than he ever thought! On the noise other soldiers came into the tent. But it was too late. It was too late for them all! The redhead set up a bloodbath. A true massacre. He killed them all! Everyone! He tore and crushed their bodies, which were much weaker than the metal! He used his new hands to hurl them like dolls through the desert! He tore them apart, causing their disgusting organs to clap like damp fruits on the sand. In his entire life, they had taught him nothing but cruelty and murder. Kid would give it back to them! Bright blood seeped through the forest floor and Kid laughed. He was so angry! His anger could never be satisfied! And at the same time, it felt so good to finally destroy them all! Kid felt Killer's eyes on his back. He knew he was looking at him. But Kid was not worried. Killer could understand him. They would come to the same hell! Only when there was no living human except for them did Kid turn to Killer. He was lying on the floor, covered in blood. His face was completely disfigured. Kid was not even sure if the nose and both eyes were still working. The fire had eaten him so that no one would recognize him anymore. Not even Killer himself. Incredibly careful, Kid Killer picked up his metal hands. "Do not worry, Killer. We made it. We are free. We killed them all. I'll take you to a doctor. I will have you treated. And then we kill the others. All other soldiers. They all. No matter if enemy or friend. " Killer's bright eyes looked at him. His injuries prevented him from saying anything. Kid was not even sure if he was really awake. But Kid would take care of him. He would make sure that Killer recovered. And then the world would be theirs. Kid went through the sea of ​​corpses and felt no guilt. On the contrary. There was a terrible rage inside him that would not end until they were all dead. If it was his hands that killed them all. And no one would be able to stop him.

written by Shadcatmastered