#purity ring... this one has a little kick to it!!! wow...

[foursaints]

i need evan to have some sort of familial like purity ring or something which barty manhandles off their first time and keeps on a chain around his neck . when evan pulls him in by it it slips back on his finger and barty laughs at him for the hypocrisy …. putting in back on in the middle of their debauchery :….

this is legitimately so hot i'm a bit aghast... absolutely. there is nothing that i can add because it's already perfect.

i have always been entranced by the idea of evan and some sort of magical chastity-belt situation. perhaps in an omegaverse context, perhaps not. either way i want barty snapping and debauching him in a hidden alcove, away from his parents and suitors. barty wants to ruin him, evan doesn't even know what that means. he hikes evan's skirts above his waist and GROANS when he sees the little leather strap keeping evan's cunt locked from him, because of course, evan has always been so good & proper. maybe barty mouths at him over the leather while evan shakes and cries and tries to squirm away, and he finishes like that, pressed against the wall, confused. yeah

[grapswithgabe]

Wrestling Obsessives - Week #4: Katsuhiko Nakajima vs Kenoh - N1 Victory Finals 2021 & Yuma Anzai vs Hideki Suzuki - 6-24-2024

Katsuhiko Nakajima vs Kenoh - N1 Victory Finals 2021:

This match had it’s flaws but it’s successes out-weigh them heavily for me; I’ll start with the things that I’m not necessarily a fan of. I understand and appreciate the idea of an abrupt ending; it makes it feel like the match could have ended at anytime and it emphasizes the cleverness and resolve of the wrestler. It’s just that Nakajima’s finisher just doesn’t have that impact or wow-factor to me. If I didn’t look into the match afterwards, I would have had no idea that it was some kind of special “Diamond Bomb”. We joke that Kenoh is a soul-less move guy whose whole thing is getting so angry he does a move, I honestly assumed it was an exaggeration, but it’s honestly true. His expressions, his selling, and his overall persona is just based on the idea of being an angry stoic badass; it makes him feel hollow. Now the match itself was sick; these guys love their slaps and kicks. Each kick felt thunderous and you can almost feel the impact of their shins to their chests through the screen. These exchanges also had a nice sprinkling of counters and lock-exchanges. Nakajima stood out to me, he’s a good looking guy that wrestles with the right amount of power and snark. Kenoh’s is only able to express one emotion but he does it well; his fury and desperation is obvious towards the back half of the match. I really enjoyed the slap-strike exchange. I see a lot of bad machine-gun chops and slaps going around so it’s nice to finally get a good showing. The lighting of this exchange really enhances it; just seeing the steam and sweat bead off of Kenoh’s skin while Nakajima smacks the fuck out of him is awesome. Despite my little nit-picks, I 100% understand why people consider this an amazing match. It’s filled with so much nasty striking, and it honestly does not drag at all. I really enjoyed this one.

Yuma Anzai vs Hideki Suzuki - 6-24-2024:

This match made me long for an era that I was not even alive to see; before I even talk about the match I just want to gush about the production. The cinematic interviews, the bold text over the montages, the intensity pf the promos, and then the setup. The well-lit crowd, the boldly colored ring, and the simple yet distinct gear of the two competitors just has this vintage purity to it. The hallmark of a good match is a story that you can understand even without past context or knowledge of the language. This is a classic babyface champion attempting to best a grizzled veteran. Yuma works fantastically as this passionate underdog and the crowd is vocally behind him. He’s a competent wrestler that has the makings of an excellent ace for the company. His struggles to get over on the veteran Suzuki where well sold by his exhaustion; this is complemented by Suzuki obvious wealth of experience. Suzuki takes a lot of punishment throughout this match but you can tell that it’s simply him biding his time for the next strike; there’s also the way he shifts his weight and “sandbags” in order to prevent Yuma from hitting some big slams. Though a bit of Yuma’s inexperience kinda pokes through towards the end of the match, he has a charismatic presence and such a solid understanding of the art-form. This feels like a classic babyface champion main-event, much like how the company itself is a very classic wrestling promotion. A very good match, a strong story, and a good preview of what’s to come with Yuma.

[razorblade180]

Rosebud Prep 10

Healing, it’s much harder than must people think. Yet somehow not a complicated process. Ruby had healed before plenty of times. The loss of Pyrrha, the disasters that came from failed missions, the merge of Oscar and Oz; Ruby managed time and time again to learn from these scars. Dustin was different. It felt like she hadn’t learn anything. All this time she refused to look ahead like Oz had been trying to tell her calmly before things got physical. It was bitter pill to swallow but one she needed to take. Things needed to change before it was too late. She needed to start making steps. No one would blame her if they were small steps but that’s not how Ruby Rose operated. Where most people walk, she runs. They run, then Ruby sprints. Ozpin had just help her “sprint” all the way to Menagerie and has feet planted on the first steps leading to Blake’s house.

Ozpin:You sure you don’t want me to walk up with you?

Ruby:I’m sure. This is one of things you have to do alone ya know? It’s just my sister....and her new wife.....that have helped me through think and thin. Including my wedding, which is more than what I can say I did for them. I really hope they yell at me.

Ozpin:Feeling like you need to be punished and deserving punishment are two different things. The guilt you feel is proof enough that the ladder isn’t needed.

Ruby:Or maybe my guilt is the ladder...

So began her very long walk on the average sized stairway. In truth she felt like running away. Yang had a way of always making her feel like a little kid despite their age. Ruby have had to own up to mistakes countless times to her big sister and it never got easier. Apologizing out loud to anyone always made her more emotional than she probably should be. Ruby mentally kicked herself for not practicing what she’d say on the boat ride to Menagerie. Even as the final stone step was conquered, not a thing came to mind.

Ruby:(Sigh, guess I’m winging it. Probably not the best move coming from a leader but oh well.)

“Well look who the cat dragged in? The right family tree but the wrong branch.” Said the elderly voice that immediately caught Ruby’s attention. Her gaze was directed to the front entrance and of Yang’s new home. On the porch was a rocking chair that instantly was recognized; as well as the person in it..

Ruby:Maria?!

Maria:What’s with confused look? I say all you kids are still as sporadic as ever. What are the odds I’d meet you here of all places after all this time and not around Vacou? I only live one town over you know.

Ruby:That’s why I’m confused. Why are in front of Blake’s home? Why are in you in Menagerie in the first place?

Maria:What does it look like I’m doing? House sitting of course! The love birds asked me to keep an eye on it while they went on their honeymoon. They should be back today.

Ruby:(Wow, I really am out of the loop.)

Maria:Didn’t notice I was even gone did you?

Ruby:*scratches head* Well.....

Maria:I suppose it’s only natural. A bag of bones like myself doesn’t believe I’d be at the top of any list of relevance. Especially when more important things like weddings are also being skipped.

Ruby:*frowning*Is that your way of telling me I’ve been dropping the ball? Trust me, I’ve noticed...

Maria:Of course. Why else would you be here? Unless one of your many missions has brought The Storyteller to these pleasant shores? You’ve been busy. Too busy.

Ruby:Oz already told me. I really could do without another lecture. Besides, at least innocent lives are safe.

Maria:Sigh, still a kid I see. Wet behind the ears and all.

Ruby:I’m twenty three and I don’t think I get exactly what you’re implying. If anything I’ve gotten pretty good at being an huntsman.

Maria:For a normal perhaps, but that does not apply to you now does it? When was the last time you looked in a mirror? It’s alarming how dim your eyes have gotten.

Ruby:My eyes?

Maria:See for yourself.

Ruby reaches for her scroll and pulls out the camera. Maria was right. It was faint but the iris of her eyes were different. What once was piercing silver now looked a bit clouded and gray. She didn’t know what to make of it but it was hard not to be concerned now.

Ruby:I had no idea.

Maria:Yeah that’s obvious. I know you’ve never been much of a prissy girl but I would’ve thought you looked in the mirror every so often. Anyway idea why it’s happening.

Ruby:Are you actually asking me or are you quizzing me?

Maria:*smiles* Well it looks like you’ve learned at least one thing from your time with me. I suppose that’s worth a straight forward answer. It’s-

Ruby:My will to preserve life? Yeah, haven’t really had that mindset in awhile. I know that isn’t exactly good but believe me, not like I didn’t try to stay positive. I just.....hoping and being positive has been on short supply.

Maria:.....

Maria:You know it’s rude to call me out and cut me off mid explanation?

Ruby:Was my answer wrong?

Maria:Sigh, no you are right. Your headspace isn’t what it used to be. Sure you’re killing grimm but are you aren’t simply doing it to protect people. You’re venting all the pent up anger and hate inside you. It’s a far cry from what the silver eyes powers are based off of. Though I can’t really blame you for falling off course. Losing a kid harbors more than enough pain to change anyone.

Ruby:Yeah, it is. *holds her chest*

Maria:What’s eating away at you.

Ruby:I want to move forward. To smile like I used to be able to but I can’t see it happening. The pain I experienced isn’t something that will actually go away and I shouldn’t think it will; I understand that. But how am I supposed to laugh and be contempt with life if it doesn’t? Living in a world where I’m happy after all of this seems like a fantasy.

Maria:It really does. Overcoming such turmoil with a smile in the very end sounds like something straight out of a fairytale book. Sounds like your specialty, or did I end up spreading around an inappropriate nickname for you?

Ruby:*Eyes widen* Nickname? Wait, The Storyteller? That was your doing!?

Maria:Why so surprised? Who else could’ve come up with such a brilliant nickname. If it was left up to you then you’d be call the The Grimm Reaper number two.

Ruby:I...*red* I would not.....

Maria:*smiles* Twenty three huh? So young to have done so much already; way more than what I did at that age. Guess that leaves you room to do even more impressive stuff. A name like The Grimm Reaper was always too small for the scope of work you do. Making miracles out of nothing, now that has you written all over it. It’s happened before and it’ll happen again. Those eyes of yours will shine brighter than ever. They believe so too.

“Damn right we do. Right Blake?” “I call her purity for a reason.” Both voices sent a chill down Ruby’s spine. Her ears burning from hearing the two people she waited for standing behind her. There was no time wasted turning around to see Blake and Yang in holding luggage in one hand while the other two held each other’s. The sun had a way of bouncing off their rings and shining broken light around them.

Ruby’s eye marveled at it for a second. It was beautiful. She wondered what it looked like during the exchange. The sour thought made her wince a little before looking at Blake. Her friend smiled at her softly before making Ruby notice Yang by bending her left cat ear up and down. Ruby was scared but eventually looked at Yang. There wasn’t a smile; just a simple stare right at her. Any expression carefully hidden. Ruby’s throat ran dry as silver eyes met lilac. Her mouth opened before immediately closing. Tears started to well up and it began increasingly impossible to maintain eye contact.

Her body shook slightly and Ruby found herself looking away from both of them. The entire time her mind racing in frustration about her behavior and actions. Before she knew it, Yang was right in front of her and cuffed the right side of Ruby’s red face. There eyes met again but it was different this time. A visible look of comfort yet concern was on the blondes face. A dam inside Ruby finally gave way and she started audibly crying. Yang pulled her baby sister into a tight embrace and rubbed the girl’s head.

Ruby:I’m sorry......I’m so sorry.....

Yang:Ssssshhhhh it’s okay. We’re okay; we’ve always been okay.

Ruby:You should be angry with me! Furious even! I....I cut you out. Ignored you during the happiest times of your life because I was angry mine were gone. What kind of little sister does that!?

She was running out of breath yet continued to cry her heart out. Her arm wrapping around Yang like her life depended on it. Wanting to never let go again. Yang did nothing but continued to comfort the girl. Happy to finally see her again.

Yang:How could I be mad at my little sister who was grieving. I was just scared. Scared that I’d never see you try to bounce back from something like this. I’ve always known how to help you with things but with this it was different. I ran out of ideas and all I could do was hope one day something will change; that time itself could heal a problem I had no clue how. That it could give you back to me. *crying* I never lost hope your strength. Ruby I love you.

Ruby:I....I love you too.

Blake:*sniffles* I guess I should tell Weiss the team is all here. She’d be mad if she missed a reunion.

Yang:Hehe *sniffles* No kidding. You are staying for awhile right?

Ruby:*wipping her face* Actually...I was hoping... all of you can come with me to Vale. I think I’ll need the moral support....

Yang:Do you even have to ask? Also....ummm, what’s with your eyes? They are all cloudy or something?

Maria:Wow, noticed it in no time flat. Maybe she should have them.

Ruby:*groans in defeat*

xxxx

First step achieved, or at least half of it. The other half was waiting in Patch under a tree; rubbing a very happy corgi’s belly while his handler tended to the sunflower garden under the evening sun.

Tai:So, any plans for the rest of day while you still have some daylight left? Or are you gonna turn in early like you’ve been doing since you got here.

Jaune:I stay up late sometimes.

Tai:And proceed to watch tv and eat before going back to sleep or rubbing Zwei’s belly. He’s never gonna let you leave if you keep showing him this much attention.

Jaune:It’s calming and what else exactly am I supposed to do?

Tai:Go to a restaurant. A park maybe? I didn’t force you to shave your stubble just so you can watch reruns all day. Take it from me, you only feel worse staying in one place.

Jaune:I know. That’s why I’m not home remember?

Tai:A very good step, but you do know technically you’re still not seeing anything. You just chose to stew in your thoughts with a friend. It’s flattering but the point is to stop stewing all together. Best way to do that, occupy your brain. There’s a movie in town we can go see if you like.

Jaune:....Zwei bark twice if you want me to stay here. Bark once if I should see a movie.

Arf arf!!!!

Jaune:You heard the man.

Tai:He always barks twice. That’s why his name is Zwei.

Jaune:What? No way.

Tai:Zwei bark once if we should feed you table scraps or bark twice if we should start another great war.

Arf Arf!!!!!

Tai:See?

Jaune:Maybe he just craves destruction. Like a war dog, or a hell hound. Are you an agent of chaos little guy?

Zwei gets back on all fours and gives a puppy face that would either tell Jaune that he was completely wrong or an act to cover up sinister intent. The corgi ran onto the knights lap and licked his face before scampering off down the dirt path. Both blonde men looking puzzled for a moment before hearing a shriek of excitement and seeing Zwei raised up by a familiar figure. Jaune stood up and looked closely to see Weiss happily loving the dog.

Weiss:Oh how is my favorite guy in the whole wide world!? Yes you are! Yes you are!

Jaune:Weiss? What is she doing here?

Tai:(I swear that dog has better lady luck than anyone. Even Raven likes him.) I guess his number one fan wanted to drop by and see him. I certainly didn’t call her.

Weiss:*happily humming*

Jaune:Uhh Weiss?

Weiss:Hmm? Oh! *clears throat* Sorry, didn’t see you there hehe. Nice to see as always.

She promptly puts Zwei down and opens up her arms to Jaune. Maybe it was current situation or her mind playing tricks but her friend seemed to move a little faster than normal to share a hug. Weiss couldn’t help but remember how fast she moved at Haven’s inn when Ruby and Yang invited her into a hug a few years ago. This held a similar energy to it. The poor was really going through it right now and she had no problem making the embrace last until he decided to end it.

Weiss:Look at that. You’ve shaved since the wedding. Glad to see you look more rested. I’m gonna be honest though, your hair is getting a bit long don’t you think.

Jaune:I could go back to the crew cut....

Weiss:I will personally destroy every episode pair of scissors if you do that.

Tai:I’ll help! Shaggy looks good on you.

Jaune:No one appreciates experimentation.

Weiss:People do when it works.

Jaune:Did you fly all the way here to judge my looks? I already have Tai trying to take away my jeans and black t-shirts

Tai:Change of clothes help state of mind. I’m trying to get him to brighter colors.

Weiss:First of all, Tai we should talk sometime about colors. Second, Jaune I am here to bring you Beacon. That is all the information I can give you. *grabs his hands* Do you trust me?

Jaune:Even if I didn’t, you’d just drag me there.

Weiss:Yep. Tai you should come along too. I think it might make things even better.

Tai gave a look of integument at the tiny girl that gave the same look back. He needed no convincing or explanation. Call it fatherly instinct but he had a feeling in his gut he knew what might be happening. The man patted the dirt off his hands and stood up ready.

Tai:Looks like we have afternoon plans Jaune. Bark twice if you wanna come too Zwei.

Arf Arf!!!

Jaune:Unbelievable....

Weiss started to pull her friend down the path towards the airship she had arrived in. In a matter of minutes they were inside and taking of. Jaune wasn’t exactly thrilled with how fast he went from enjoying outside to going on an adventure. He wasn’t going to complain though. In truth, after that faithful day, sunsets were something he could live without.

His head swiveled to the cockpit to look outside all the same. He was caught off gaurd to notice the pilot was sporting a pair of black cat ears.

Jaune:Blake?

Blake:Hey Jaune. Nice hair. Needs a slight trim though.

Jaune:Why is everyone- I’ll get around to it...

He felt Tai pat his shoulder in comfort. All those years in a house filled with women and yet even he could hold out for so long before bowing out of any debate. Jaune chose to close his eyes and rest instead. He hadn’t done anything straining for a few weeks yet more often than not he was drained of stamina. It wasn’t a mystery why but it was still shocking to say the least.

This surprise had just started and it was already sapping what energy he had. It didn’t go unnoticed by the others on board. A tired Jaune was a rare sight to see; they wished to keep it that way. Weiss tugged on his arm and the two of them began to lean on each other lightly. She smiled to herself as she felt his body slightly let go of tension.

Jaune:Thanks...

Weiss:No problem. Just rest for now. I’ll tell you when we’re there.

xxxx

The ride was short but nice. Blake hadn’t flown the airship too fast for Jaune to handle and even took a longer route to give him more rest time. It was thoughtful but also a bit wasteful as they all found out when finally landed. Yes he rested, but Jaune never really went to sleep. A moment of reprieve was more accurate. Jaune was the first one to leave the ship and started heading up the street. One by one his friends and family caught up to him and enjoyed the comfortable silence.

Traffic was non existent. There was no clutter of trash or people on the streets. The entire area seemed to be bathed in an orange light for miles. A gust of autumn wind gave slight goosebumps and a familiar feeling of grief. How long would it be before this season once again brought him happiness and not the sight of a helicopter fading away? He doubt he’d find a decent answer. Instead he kept walking towards the giant gate he’d seen so many times with some of the people he still had. That number only grew with each step.

The familiar stone road still sported light posts on each side every few feet. About three fourths of the way there sat his teammates on each side; patently awaiting his arrival. Ren and Nora waited for Jaune to be completely parallel with them before walking along side him. Still nothing was said. Nothing had to be. Jaune could see up ahead was Yang leaning on the gate entrance. Her hands rested in her pocket and a sense of ease radiated from the place she stood. The gap between them closed as they met eye to eye. Jaune’s eyebrow raised in curiosity about this unexpected gathering. They had all met not too long ago for the wedding. Yang gave him a playful punch in the arm along with a smile that could warm the coldest of nights.

Both gates opened behind her and she moved out the way. What came next was something he wanted to hope for but didn’t out of fear of disappointing himself. Pass the gate sat Ruby in the middle of one of the stone walkway openings. She was staring at the statue a little ways away. Jaune tried to open his mouth to finally speak but was denied that immediately. Multiple hands found their way to his back and gently nudged him forward; everyone else stayed behind. He gave one final look at all of them before nodding and walking towards his wife. It only took a seconds before he realized he stood right next to her. Silence broken at last.

Jaune:Why here?

Ruby:This spot. It holds a lot of weight for me. You know why don’t you?

Jaune:Of course I do. We first met here.

Ruby:Did you know this ground was mostly intact after the fall? Barely any of it had to be replaced. I bet I could turn one of these slabs over and still find the tiniest bit of Weiss’s dust from that day.

Jaune:Pretty sure you sneezed it all away.

Ruby:Heh. I really thought that was going to be one of the miserable days of my life. Then I met you. You offered me your hand and then your friendship when I needed it the most. Jaune you turned that day from bleak to dazzling and I’ve never forgotten it; you were there when I felt lonely. *shaking* So when I say I’m truly disgusted that I have not shown the same level of compassion, I meant it.

Jaune:Ru-

Ruby:*crying* Please, I have to say this....

Jaune:....

Ruby:I made a vow to you on our wedding day to be by your side through any adventure because it was our adventure. The two of us are a packaged deal. Best friends, co leaders, husband and wife....yet the moment all hell broke loose, I left you alone. I broke our vow and there will never be a valid excuse for that in my eyes. Both of us lost Dustin yet I didn’t act like it. In no way have I been a good wife.

Her voice started cracking. Ruby rose to her feet and stood facing Jaune. There was no part of hey that was still. Her chest was heavy as she tried to breathe.

Ruby:You deserve better than what I have given you and that’s a fact. I’ve seen first hand what a husband, a father can go through after so much loss with my dad but that didn’t stop me from making a similar mistake. If you could possibly find inside yourself to forgive an idiot like me, then I swear that things will be different or so help me, my name as a huntress might as well burn! First and for most I stand by you as your wife and I-

A gasp escapes her lips as Jaune touches her face. Her tears run down the palm of his hand while his own finally roll down to his chin. Ruby’s hands raise up to meet the one on her face. Her nimble fingers trace it until they feel his wedding band.

Jaune:Can you please stop talking bad about the woman I love? She’s been through enough and I just want to kiss her. My love, is something she’ll never have to doubt. It wouldn’t be much of an adventure of it was easy right?

Her eyes widened before a sudden burst of tears flowed out again. Ruby jumped into his arms like her very soul depended on it. Jaune hoisted her up slightly and together shared a kissed that could only be described as the embodiment of love as they know it. Every bit of pain in them could be felt through it but so could their love. A love that mended the vow Jaune never saw truly broken but merely tested.

Ruby:Don’t ever doubt my love either okay? You’ll always be my home. My knight.

Jaune:As will you. My rose.

Their hands interlocked as shared another embrace. Finally she’d done it. The first step was taken, and she took it with everyone on a simple day. Where the wind felt crisp and the world was bathed in sunset.

Part 9

[hookedonapirate]

Set My Soul On Fire

Summary: What happens when the high school principal’s son falls in love with the pastor’s daughter?

Hiding a relationship is hard, especially since Killian’s girlfriend is seventeen and not allowed to date until she’s thirty, it’s even harder to hide her pregnant belly. Can Killian save his relationship with Emma when her parents find out? Some miracles are worth fighting for no matter what. Especially when there’s a little hope involved and a whole lot of love.

Teen Pregnancy AU

Notes: Thanks for reading and the feedback! I'm so excited about this story and hope you like it. The next chapter will be in Emma's POV.

Thank you @onceuponaprincessworld as always for letting me share my ideas with you!!! You help me more than you know!

Rated: Mature

Catch up: Ch 1

Also available: AO3 l FF.N

Chapter 2

The next class Killian has with Emma is Trigonometry. Will starts texting him since he has his phone again and wants to meet her. He’s already told Ruby and Robin’s girlfriend, Regina, about Emma, and they want to meet her too. Killian’s a little leery though. It might be selfish of him, but he wants Emma all for himself. He doesn’t want Will drooling over her or his female friends fawning over her, although he does want Emma to make friends. Just not his. He knows it’s stupid, but he also knows his friends and the shenanigans they get into and he doesn’t want to scare Emma off. But he knows if Emma’s going to be in his life, she’ll have to be in his friends’ lives too. So he might as well rip the bandaid now and introduce her to them. He texts his friends and tells them to meet him at Granny’s Diner after school for lunch. It’s a half-day today, so there won’t be lunch in the cafeteria. 

 When the final bell rings, signaling the end of the school day, Killian walks Emma to her locker. His heart is pounding the entire time as he tries to gather up the courage to ask her to go to lunch with him. “So, um… how do you like your classes so far?"

 “I like them, well other than Trig,” she replies with a frustrated sigh. “Math has always been my kryptonite.”

 Killian chuckles. “Well, I didn't want to say anything, but I did notice it seemed like you wanted to pull your hair out before the class even began.” He also couldn't help but notice how she kept biting the end of her pencil while trying to solve math problems from the practice sheet the teacher had given them. He had wished he were that pencil being pressed against her lips and taking a beating from her teeth. “If you want, I can help you,” he offers, and it has nothing to do with wanting to see her bite the end of her pencil every chance he got. Okay, maybe a little. “Math happens to be my superpower.”

 Her eyes light up as though he’s offering her the world. Which he would in a heartbeat if he could. “Really? I could definitely use your help.”

 “Of course I’ll help you. How about Wednesday after school?”

 She shakes her head. “Oh, I can’t do Wednesdays, I have youth group those nights.”

 “Oh.” Right. He’d forgotten about Wednesday night youth groups. He’s never been to one himself, but his father used to try and get him to go to the youth groups held at the church he attends. Not that Killian was against youth groups, he just preferred to go to Will’s house and play video games on Wednesday nights rather than socialize with Christians he didn’t think he’d relate to. He's never been to church so he thought he’d just feel out of place. “My apologies, love. Well, how does Thursday sound?”

 “Sounds great.” A big smile graces her lips. “Thank you so much.” Taking him by surprise, she leans in and plants a chaste kiss directly on his cheek. A kiss that sends a bolt of electricity from her soft lips to his skin, and it feels like his cheeks are on fire

 He stops walking, too stunned to move his feet as his fingertips migrate to the spot, only gently brushing his cheek so he doesn’t wipe off her kiss. He never wants to wash his face ever again. 

 Emma, who’s continuing her trek, notices he’s not beside her and stops in her tracks, turning around with a concerned expression on her face. “You okay?”

 It takes him a minute to regroup. “Yeah, sorry, I just… I wasn’t expecting that,” he stutters, his voice completely wrecked as he wills his feet to move and catches up to her. “I don’t think I’m ever going to wash my face again.” 

 She laughs like he’s joking, but he’s not joking. “You should definitely wash your face.”

 “And why should I, love?”

 “One, because it would be gross not to, and two…” she looks over at him, her lips curving into a playful smirk, “Because there are many more kisses where that came from.”

 Killian’s heart soars and his face lights up like a freaking Christmas tree.

 Emma kissed him! Then she promised him more kisses. This is easily the best day of his life.

 They're almost at her locker when he starts scratching behind his ear; it’s an annoying habit he’s had since he was very young. He scratches behind his ear when he’s nervous. He’s been scratching behind his ear a lot today. He’s probably going to scratch his ear off before the day ends. He pushes through the sound of his heart pounding in his ear and he pushes through the beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He pushes down the thoughts of her lips on his cheek, pushes down the memory of her promising him more kisses and pushes through the nervous butterflies in his stomach as he turns his head to look at her and holds her stare. “So um… do you want to have lunch with me and my friends?” He holds his breath, awaiting her answer, and he decides her yes or even a simple nod is all he needs for his life to be complete. 

 “Yeah, I’d love to, as long as you don’t mind me joining you.”

 Does he mind? Killian almost laughs. 

 “I mean, I know your father volunteered you to show me around, but you really don’t have to, you know?”

 Killian waves off her words, relief washing over him. “Love, I really don’t mind,” he says casually.

 “Good,” she says, a cheerful glint in her eyes as she averts her gaze. 

 His heart leaps in his chest. She likes that he doesn’t mind. He likes that she likes it. Actually he loves it. “Okay, well um… do you want to ride with me?” he offers, trying to be nonchalant, but he knows he sounds like an idiot.

 “Yeah, sure. I drove here, so you'll just have to bring me back.”

 Wow, this is so much easier than he thought it would be.  

 “Not a problem.” He goes to his locker to get his bag, and she’s still at hers when he approaches and inhales a shaky breath, simultaneously catching a whiff of her body spray or whatever it is that smells so fruity. It’s intoxicating and certainly not making this any easier on him. “You smell good,” he compliments.

 She jumps a little at his voice; she didn’t know he was standing behind her. She closes her locker door and turns around, flashing him a smile. “Thanks.” Her smile knocks the wind out of him for the tenth time that day and it’s not even noon yet. 

 His face clouds with apology. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

 “It’s okay,” she says sweetly.

 They start walking down the hall, trying to make it through the parade of students either heading to their lockers or toward the exit doors. Every so often, as he leads her to his truck, their hands brush against each other or he gets pushed into her and grabs her shoulders to catch himself, apologizing to her. She never seems to mind and offers a small smile every time.

 “Can I ask where you’re from?” she questions curiously as they make their way across the parking lot. “I mean you have an accent and you keep calling me love, so I was just wondering.”

 “Please, you can ask me anything,” he’s quick to assure her, trying to recover from her smile, which is still beaming across her pretty lips.

 “I was born in England and we moved to the states after my Mum died. I was only five."

 Her smile fades, face flooding with sadness.

 His heart actually sags in his chest. He hates when she’s sad. 

 “I'm sorry,” she whispers softly. 

 “Thanks, love,” he murmurs, flashing a smile as they reach his truck. He wants to kick himself for bringing up such a depressing topic. Anything that erases the smile from her face is not worth doing or saying. As he opens the door for her, he quickly thinks of something more cheerful and less daunting to talk about. But when he offers his hand to give her a boost into the high truck seat, the touch of her hand when she slips her palm into his makes him lose his train of thought. Once she’s seated, he offers to take her bag and put it in the rear seat. She says a thank you as she gives it to him. He closes her door, puts their bags away and goes around to the driver’s side, trying to remember himself again. 

 When his seatbelt is fastened, he inserts his key into the ignition and roars up the engine, absentmindedly placing his hand on the edge of her seat to look out for students who may be walking through the parking lot behind his truck. But he finds himself getting distracted when she crosses her legs, showing off those beautiful thighs since she hadn’t bothered adjusting the skirt of the dress when the fabric rode up her legs. He also notices a gold band glinting on her left ring finger as she rests her hand on her thigh, and he can only imagine it’s a purity ring. Or rather he’s hoping it’s a purity ring, which is a weird thing to hope for, but he’s hoping it’s not a promise ring and that she hasn’t already made a commitment to someone else back in Phoenix.

 Kilian shakes his head to rid himself of the thoughts. “So, my friends are going to love you,” he says, his heart slamming in his chest as he pulls out of the spot. “They’re really nice. Except for Will. Don’t mind him, he talks a lot of shit.” Killian immediately claps his hand over his mouth, eyes wide with apology as he steers with his other hand. “Sorry, love, I shouldn’t have cursed,” he says, glancing over at her.

 Emma laughs and shakes her head. “It’s okay, really. I’m seventeen, not a nun.”

 “I know, but you are—”

 “The daughter of a pastor? Yeah, I’m aware,” she says bitterly. “I hate when people call me that. I hate being known as the pastor’s daughter.”

 “You’re preaching to the choir here, love. I’m the principal's son, remember? And when my older brother was in school, he was a football captain and everyone loved him, so I was also known as Liam’s little brother. It was either Mr. Jones’ son or Liam’s brother.”

 Her eyes widen and she reaches her hand out and touches his arm. Killian shutters as though she’s just electrocuted him.

 “You totally get it then.”

 Bloody hell. Emma's touching his arm. And it’s not just a simple touch. Her hand lingers on the sleeve of his shirt for a moment, where it's rolled up, her thumb brushing over his skin. He feels like his skin is on fire and he almost dies of joy; he almost melts into a puddle on the floor of the truck.

 She removes her hand and he’s able to breathe again, however weakly. “For once I’d like to be known as Emma, ya know? Like when people see my father, I would love for someone just once to say, hey, you’re Emma Nolan’s father, what’s your name?”

 Killian nods understandingly and makes a mental note to greet her father as such when he meets her. Bloody hell, he’ll have to meet her father. Killian pales and swallows harshly at the thought. Fuck, her father would kill him for the things he’s envisioning doing to his daughter. At the same time, he can't wait to meet the people who created such a beautiful creature. “I know, me too. I wish they’d say to my dad, hey you’re Killian’s father? I’ve heard so much about you. And aren’t you a principal?”

 “Yes, exactly,” Emma laughs, her eyes lighting up and her smile blossoming across her face. 

 He wants to make it his mission to put a smile on her face every single day, from this day forward. He will do anything to put that wonderful smile on her face. He will move freaking mountains, then he’ll jump off of them, he’ll walk through fire and then he’ll do it again and again. If that would make her smile. 

 “So please, don’t walk on eggshells when you’re around me. You can cuss like a sailor, you can get high or drink if that’s what you do, you can do whatever around me, I’m not the judgy type.”

 “I wouldn’t have pegged you for the judgy type, love.”

 “Thanks,” she says appreciatively. “Truthfully, my parents aren’t either. Everyone thinks because my father’s a pastor that all he does is preach because that’s literally his job, and that he’s this very strict father who runs his house like a convent, but that’s far from the truth. He’s more of the accepting type, not the shunning type. I mean, sure my curfew is eight and I’m not allowed to date until I’m thirty or have sex until I’m married, but other than that he’s actually pretty cool.”

 Killian nods; he’d expected those three rules from her father, and he wished that changed how he felt about Emma, knowing she’s off limits, but it doesn’t. If anything, it makes him want her more. She's like the forbidden fruit Eve gave to Adam, only he imagines Emma is much more delicious and sweeter than any fruit. He’d die a thousand times just to find out.

 “Those are the same rules my father sets for me.”

 Emma raises a doubtful brow. “Really?”

 He shakes his head and laughs. “No, but pretty close.”

 “So you don’t date?” she asks, taking him by surprise.

 “No, I don’t, but not because I’m not allowed to, I just haven’t met anyone I wanted to date,” he confesses, looking away, hoping he’s not blushing profusely right now. I haven’t met anyone I wanted to date until now, is what he really wants to say, but he doesn’t, and instead casually breezes by his thoughts. “I mean when does a highschooler have time to date anyway?”

 “Yeah, that’s true. I mean it seems like all I do is go to school, do homework, go to church, go to work. So it's probably a good thing I’m not allowed to date.”

 “Yeah probably.” They share a fleeting glance with one another and then look away again. He knows she’s thinking the same thing he is. Or at least he hopes she is. He wants to shatter the hell out of her father’s rules. 

 He parks in front of Granny's Diner and kills the engine before unbuckling his seatbelt. His eyes fall to her ring again, but he doesn't realize he's staring at it until she breaks the silence.

 “It's a purity ring—it symbolizes a vow I made to abstain from sex until I’m married.”

 He sighs in relief. He's glad it's not a promise ring; well technically it is, but it's not the type of promise ring that binds her to a guy back in Phoenix. Nope, he only has God to compete with. 

 As he lifts his head to look at her, his eyes dance with amusement at the fact that she had caught him looking at her ring.

 “I saw you staring at it,” she teases with a playful smile.

 Killian smirks and cocks a brow, leaning in and whispering something sultry in her ear. “How do you know it was your ring I was staring at?”

 Emma lifts a brow, tilting her head toward him. “You mean you were interested in something else in my lap?”  

 He wants to grab her face and kiss that naughty little smirk she's donning. “More like what’s in between your lap. How do you think your ring caught my eye in the first place?”

 He loves it when he hears her breath catch in her throat. He loves having that kind of effect on her. He loves it a little too much. 

 "Well, um… we should probably head in," she says, turning her head away from him, trying to reassemble herself. 

 He can tell she's all flustered as she struggles to open the door. "Here, allow me." He reaches across to open the passenger door, his other hand slipping over her knee. He really didn't mean to touch her, his hand merely migrated there. 

 He can hear Emma's breath hitch again over the pounding of his heart in his ear.

 “Are you sure you want to join us?” he asks, clearing his throat as he pulls away from her and opens his own door. 

 “Yeah, sure, why not? Sounds like a fun group.”

 “Well they are pretty fun, but I just wanted to give you one last chance to back out.”

 Emma laughs. “Thank you, but I’m good. I want to meet your friends.” 

 “Okay, just checking.” He smiles at her and she offers one in return before they jump out of the truck and head inside.

 “Hey, Killian! Over here!” Ruby shouts across the diner, waving a hand in the air.

 He and Emma make their way toward a round table where his friends are sitting as they all stare at her.

 Will and Robin are whispering and laughing to themselves and Ruby and Regina have big grins plastered on their faces.

 “Just remember, ignore Will,” Killian says in Emma's ear so she can hear him over the chatter of the diner. “In fact, just ignore all of them.” 

 “Okay,” she laughs, “but I’m sure they’re not that bad.”

 “You’re right. They're worse.”

 He walks over with Emma, holding his breath. “Hey guys, this is Emma. She just moved here from Phoenix.”

 “Hey, Emma, I’m Ruby and this Regina. You can sit next to us if you want,” she says patting the chair between them.

 Emma looks at Killian, a little unsure, so he gives her a reassuring nod, although he’s a little bummed Ruby pulled her away from him. Apparently Will is too, and he frowns as Emma sits across from him. 

 “Hey, Emma, the name’s Will,” he greets with a big grin as Killian takes the chair between him and Ruby.

 Robin is sitting between Will and Regina, his arm wrapped around his girlfriend's shoulder as he offers Emma a warm smile. “Hi, I’m Robin.”

 “Nice to meet you,” she says politely. 

 Regina and Ruby seem to gush over the new girl, overwhelming her with questions before Ashley, their waitress, brings Killian his usual Cherry Coke and takes Emma's drink order since no one knows what she drinks yet.

 “I'll take a Cherry Coke.”

 “Aw, they’re soulmates,” Ruby teases Emma and Killian, making them both blush. 

 He wants to just offer his to Emma, but he doesn’t want to weird her out. Too much.

 Be subtle, Jones, be subtle.

 “Ashley, this is Emma, She’s new,” Ruby introduces to Ashley.

 “Hi, Emma, how do you like it here so far?” Ashley asks with a warm smile.

 “I like it. Everyone's really nice.” Emma’s eyes are locked with Killian’s as she adds, “I have a really good tour guide, so that helps a lot.”

 He blushes profusely and looks into his glass, taking a sip of his soda through his straw. This woman is trying to kill him. 

 “That’s great. I’ll get your soda, be right back,” Ashley says before rushing off.

 Killian was hoping Ashely would've distracted Will, and that he would’ve flirted with her like he always does, but today he's too busy staring at Emma. Not that he blames Will though. Killian's already obsessed with her and he just met her.

 “You look even better in person,” Will blurts out to Emma from across the table.

 Killian almost dies in his seat from humiliation.

 “In person?” she questions, her thin brow raised in confusion.

 “Uh, yeah…” Killian starts to say, but Will interrupts him.

 “Killian here sent a pic of ya this mornin'.”

 Bloody hell. 

 Killian is silently cursing Will enough as it is, and then he remembers what he’d texted him and Robin when he sent the photo. Killian’s face immediately pales. He’d said she was his future wife. He’d said she was going to have all his babies. 

 Fucking Christ.

 Don’t tell her what I said. Don’t tell her what I said. Don’t tell her what I said, Killian prays silently as he glares at Will.

 “Oh really, you sent him a picture of me?” Emma’s eyes are on him now, and he feels like he could burst into flames at any moment. 

 His face is scarlet as he offers a small smile and scratches behind his ear, hoping the floor of the diner will open up and swallow him whole. “Uh yeah… Will wanted me to take a picture of you,” he explains, quickly throwing Will under the bus, because if Killian’s going down, Will’s going with him.

 “Aye, I told him to send a pic if you were hot.”

 Oh god.

 Killian plants his face in the palms to hide the redness in his cheeks as he whispers silent curses into his hands. “Bloody hell.”

 “Oh? Is that so?”

 To his relief, Emma doesn’t sound pissed. Maybe a bit curious, but not pissed. He sighs in his hands, and when he lifts his head, she’s still staring at him intensely with a raised brow.

 “Now you know why I told you to ignore him,” Killian chuckles nervously, trying to amend the situation.

 “You did warn me,” she laughs never taking her eyes off of Killian as he feels a foot lightly rub at his ankle. Judging by the soft smile on her face, he thinks it’s hers, perhaps to reassure him that he doesn't have to be embarrassed about snapping her photo in class and sending it to his friends. He wants to look under the table to see that it's her foot, but he knows it would be too obvious.

 “Oi, is that any way to talk about your best mate?” Will asks him, offended.

 “He’s not wrong to warn the poor girl,” Regina remarks.

 Will pouts and the others laugh as Ashley returns with Emma’s drink and takes their lunch orders. Killian recommends Granny’s cheeseburger to Emma, but she goes for the grilled cheese sandwich instead. She says they’re her favorite and she wants to try Granny's version. He’ll have to remember that. He wants to fill his head with all things Emma.

 After Ashley returns with their food, and they all start digging in, Emma says it's the best grilled cheese sandwich she's ever had and she makes yummy noises as she chews her food. Killian likes the sounds she makes. He likes that she's enjoying her sandwich.

 Ruby and Regina ask her if she’s trying out for cheerleading, but Emma says she’s too busy with church, school and work to cheerlead.

 “Where do you work?” Ruby asks curiously. 

 “Nowhere yet since I recently moved, but I’m working on saving some money so I can get a place of my own when I graduate high school. Plus, having a job will give me an excuse to not be at church all the time.”

 “So, are you catholic?” Regina inquires before taking a bite of her burger.

 “No. Evangelical. My Father’s a pastor at the Living Hope Community Church.”

 “Wait, what’s the difference between being a Catholic and being an Evan—whatever you call it?” Will asks with his mouth full of fries. “Either you believe in God or you don’t.”

 “You knucklehead,” Regina shakes her head, rolling her eyes in annoyance. “Don’t mind him, Emma.”

 “No, it’s totally fine,” Emma assures with a smile, and she goes on to explain the difference between Catholicism and Evangelism. Normally Killian would probably tune it out, but with Emma, he finds himself hanging on her every word and wanting to know more of what she has to say and what she believes in.

 “But I don't want to bore you guys with religious talk if you’re not into it.”

 “Oh please, you’re not boring at all, lass. Maybe you can give some private lessons about your religion,” Will says with a wink.

 Killian kicks him in the shin underneath the table.

 “Ow, what in the bloody ’ell was that for?!” 

 Killian says nothing and just glares at him.

 What part of ‘she’s my future wife’ did you not understand, mate?!

 Will apologizes for cursing, but Emma assures the group they don't have to walk on eggshells, just as she'd told Killian.

 “Hey Emma, you should apply here as a waitress,” Ruby suggests. “We could use an extra hand.”

 “Oh, you work here?”

 “Yeah, Granny’s her granny,” Regina answers for her.

 “Oh, I didn’t know that. Do you have applications here or do I apply online?”

 “We have some here. I can get you one before you leave.”

 “Thanks, that’s nice of you.”

 “No problem,” Ruby says with a wide grin. “Any friend of Killy’s is a friend of ours.”

 “What have I told you about calling me Killy?” he grumbles. He hates that nickname with a passion.

 “What’s wrong with Killy?” Emma asks. “I kind of like it. But don't worry I won’t call you that.”

 Oh. He loves how Killy falls from her lips and suddenly he loves that name. He could hear her call him that all day. “Emma, you can call me whatever you want,” he assures with a cheeky grin.

 Ruby's mouth falls open and she appears to be offended. “So five years of friendship and I don't get to call you Killy, but you know Emma for one day and she can call you whatever she wants?”

 Killian nods. “Exactly.”

 The rest of lunch goes off without a hitch, and the guys pay for lunch. Will actually argues with Killian because they both insist on paying for Emma's meal, but Killian is the first to hand Ashley his bank card. Emma tells him thank you and that he didn't have to, but he says it was his pleasure. He'd pay anything to put a smile on her face; he doesn't mention that though.

 After Emma gets an application and they leave the diner, Killian takes her back to school so she can get her car. She drives an old yellow Volkswagen and he can’t help but laugh when he sees it.

 “Looks like I’m not the only one who’s old fashioned,” he comments, giving the roof of the car a friendly pat. “She’s about as old as they come.”

 Emma scowls at him as though he’d just offended her instead of her vehicle. “Hey, don’t make fun of her.” She throws an unpleasant look at his truck, scrunching up her nose. “Besides your Ford is not exactly new.”

 Killian brings his hand to his chest, as though he’s been wounded. “Oi, don’t knock my Ford. We’ve weathered many a storm together.”

 “Well don’t knock my Bug,” she retorts, planting her hands on her hips. “We’ve also been through a lot. She may be ancient, but she’s very dependable.”

 “Fair enough,” he chuckles. 

 When silence overwhelms the air around them, he gets extremely nervous again and starts scratching behind his ear. “So, um… I’m sorry about Will. He can be a big pain in the arse sometimes.”

 Emma shrugs like it’s no big deal. “You did warn me ahead of time,” she points out.

 “That I did, and you still wanted to join us,” he says with a small chuckle.

 “Yeah, well it wasn’t so bad,” she assures with a soft smile, which fades when she purses her lips, studying him intensely as she crosses her arms over her chest. “So um, you sent him a pic of me, huh?”

 Bloody hell. He was hoping she wouldn’t bring that up. He could kill Will for telling her about the photo he’d sent.

 “Aye,” he replies bashfully, his cheeks heating up with blush. “I hope you don’t mind.”

 “Well, that depends on the picture you took. Can I see it?”

 Bloody fucking hell. She wants to see the photo? If she sees it, then she’ll see the text he’d sent Will.

 Fuck fuck fuck, he’s so screwed. “Uhhhhh… I can’t actually,” he tries, his cheeks burning. Scratch that. His cheeks are on fucking fire.

 She frowns in disappointment. “Why not?”

 “Because it’s embarrassing,” he mumbles, his eyes falling to the pavement between their feet.

 He doesn’t realize his mistake until she says, “My photo is embarrassing?” and he looks up and sees the offended look on her face.

 “No, love...” He closes his eyes in regret and opens them. She looks thoroughly confused as she stares at him with those sharp green eyes piercing through his soul. “I meant the text I sent along with your photo is embarrassing.”

 She arches a brow, a hint of intrigue flashing in her eyes. “A text? Can I see it?”

 Yep, he’s going to murder his best friend. “Love, I assure you, you really don’t want to.”

 “Why not? It’s about me isn’t it?”

 “Well yeah but—”

 “So, show me.” This time it’s not a question, it’s definitely a demand and something tells him he does not want to refuse her.

 He sighs in defeat. “Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He pulls out his phone, and with trembling hands, he brings up the photo, along with the message he’d sent to Will. It’s all there on his screen for her to see. He hands his phone to her and holds his breath.

 She looks at it and blinks a few times, but he can’t tell what she’s thinking. He really wishes he could read minds at that moment.

 “I’m sorry, love,” he says quietly, every word laced with shame and remorse.

 “You regret sending it?” she asks, her eyes glancing up at him. Her stare sends an explosive bomb at him, making him flinch.

 “No, I don’t.” He swallows thickly, waiting in high anticipation for her response. “But I’m sorry if it offends you. I never meant for you to see it. You’re just the most beautiful girl I've ever met, and you’re really nice too.”

 She doesn't say anything for what feels like ten years, so he takes that as a failure on his part. 

 “Sorry,” he whispers and starts to turn around. She still has his phone, but she can keep it for all he cares. Or throw it in a river. The phone can drown in humiliation, along with his heart.

 She takes him by surprise when she grabs him by the collar of his shirt and lays a kiss on his mouth. He slams his eyes shut to savor the feeling of her lips—they’re like soft, delicate rose petals—pressed against his lips. She pulls away, leaving him standing as still as a statue, his eyes still closed. 

 When he finally opens them, she’s doing something on his phone, but he’s not sure what, because he can’t keep his eyes off her lips. The same lips that connected with his. He can still feel a pleasant tingling sensation on his mouth, and his entire body shudders when he replays the kiss in his head.

 She finishes with whatever she’s doing on his phone and hands it over to him. He takes it as she leans in and murmurs something in his ear, “Like I said, there are more kisses where that first one came from…. so you better wash your lips.” Emma gets in her car and roars up the engine, a shy smile playing along her lips as she pulls out of her parking spot and drives off. 

 Killian, however, can’t seem to move. He can’t breathe. He can’t speak; his brain is still trying to process what had happened. He showed her the most humiliating text and she kissed him! She planted a big wet one on him and then told him he’d better wash his lips so she can kiss him again. He’s dumbfounded and he’s still standing here in the vacant parking lot as he watches Emma’s car disappear into the distance.

 When he’s finally able to move again, he lifts his phone and unlocks the screen to see what she had done, his heart pounding mercilessly.

 A big, goofy grin takes over his whole face. 

 What she had done gives him the strength and energy to move his feet again and he practically skips to the driver’s side and hops into his truck. Yep, that’s right—he skips and hops. 

 Not only did Emma add her phone number to his contact list, but she’d also typed My Future Wife in place of her name. As in his future wife. Which means he’d see My Future Wife displayed on his caller i.d. every time she texted or called him. 

 Emma Nolan, you’re falling in love with me already. And you’re going to fall HARD. 

 Killian still has a stupid grin plastered on his face as he peels out of the parking lot. He’s still in awe, a complete disarray of emotions. Emma kissed him. On the lips. Then she called herself his future wife. 

 Best. 

 Day. 

 Ever.

[austennerdita2533]

Summary: Bad blood and violence seem to pop up for the Mikaelsons everywhere, but this time it shows up in the form of unhinged!amnesiac Elijah. Caroline tries to hold him off while Hayley disbands of Greta, and Klaus ushers Hope to safety. Madness ensues in the fight to keep the Nazi vampires from procuring who, and what, they desire.

Can Caroline keep a morally-corrupted Original at bay? Will Klaus be able to protect everyone he cares about? What will they gain; what may they lose? (TO 5x06 AU + Amnesiac!Villain Elijah vs. Klaroline + Angst)

**WARNING: Hayley still dies. Threats. Mild Violence**

A/N:  Tagging @arrenemris​ and @childoftimeandmagic​, because you lovelies were interested in a part 2. Here is the whole 5.2k word (edited) enchilada if you want to read it. (No pressure!)

Honestly, idk what I’ve created here...

Enjoy!

(A03) (FFnet)

xx Ashlee Bree

Everybody Bursts Into Mad Flames Sometimes

Before her stands a stranger—a stranger she once knew.

Dark hair, shaved chin. Aviator sunglasses tucked into a scooped white collar. Rugged blue jeans. Terse lips curled in impatient distaste. Two whittled fence posts peeking out from underneath too-long sleeves. A leather jacket - simple, black, no designer or brand name anything. It hangs loose from his shoulders to offset two cold, umber eyes which used to pierce the world with such sagacity, with such innate sophistication and reasonability, but now appraise everything around him with something worse than hate, or scorn, or disapproval too marked to miss: apathy.

It’s the last thing Caroline expects to see right now; he, the last person. (Especially in freaking jeans, are you kidding?) And she barely chokes down her surprise fast enough to block his path to the house which perches on a small hill behind them.

“Can I help you?” she says in half-chirp. Tilting her head to the side, she side-steps in front of him, warning him back with a sharp smile. “You look a little lost and I’m a concerned citizen willing to turn you back around.”

“Move,” the man growls.

“Now, now,” she raises her hands half in defense, half in taunting, “I know your memory’s been swiped, Elijah, (along with your entire history of familial and platonic feeling), but I thought you of all people would still bother with civilities in any diseased incarnation of yourself? There aren’t any dangling on your lips now, though, huh? Shame. A true shame.”

“I said move!”

“Wow, really? No Miss Forbes? No ‘it’s nice to see you again,’ Caroline?” She wags her finger and tuts, still shuffling her feet; still refusing to let him pass. Determined to give them more time to escape to safety. “I know my face jars something in you, faint and faded though the recollection may be given the circumstances.”

“You talk too much.”

“Hey! That’s rude,” she says tartly and pouts. “I’ve always considered you to be the only Mikaelson with any manners, but man, oh man! What a disappointment you are today, I’ve got to say.”

“Stop. Tell me where he is, where he’s taken them,” Elijah says while his knuckles whiten and his jaw ticks. His fingers curl into fists around one of the stakes, itching to strike. Stab. Silence. And he’d do it, too - oh, he wants to do it - to know how her fire and sugared spice will bubble against his teeth after a fatal bite - but he resists because she holds the missing pieces. She’s the only one here who knows how to procure what he and Antoinette still need.

“Pfft, yeah, like I’d tell you anything in your state.” Caroline laughs like the idea is preposterous. Insane. Like it’s the funniest joke in the history of the world. “I mean, I deserve at least a please for that kind of information, don’t you think? For old time’s sake and everything.”

“I’ve had enough of these idle games, Little Miss Sunshine. Where is he?” Elijah snarls again. This time with patience fraying into vein-pulsed rage and fangs descending. “WHERE!?”

Caroline’s shoulders straighten here, and her eyes burn so hot they almost hiss at him when she digs her heels into the grass to offer him a pert quirk of her mouth in opposition; her voice swapping out joviality for severity in the smoothest of transitions.

“As I said already, Señor Impolite,” she says with a click of her tongue, “I won’t reveal a single damn thing to you about your brother’s next location. Not here, not when you’re like this. Nor will I won’t inconvenience the other people you still love somewhere in that thick, muddled skull of yours by making this mission easy for you. Whatever it is. So put that on a discarded daylight ring and smoke it!” she adds with a huff and a cock of the hip.  

“Fine.” A stake loosens from his sleeve. He brandishes it in his hand; twirls it like a baton on his palm. The movement is slow and practiced because whether or not he’s aware of his Original history, he’s wielded weapons like this one for centuries. “If that’s how you wish to play it.”

“Likewise.”

Elijah pauses to scratch a thumb across his jaw. Then he sniffs before he raises harsh lashes to her face,

“Take it from a man who’s wasted centuries: you will not triumph,” he says. “That man - my so-called brother - will bleed you of any goodness you possess; he’ll stifle any happiness you find, so do yourself a favor and free yourself from his tyranny now. He is not worth an ounce of your time or protection. And he never will be.”

“You’re wrong. You don’t truly believe that,” she shakes her head and sighs. “You’re so wrong I just—I don’t know how you’ll recover from all the regret and guilt that’s bound to follow once you regain your old attachments again.”

He remains impassive. Unmoved.

“Let me by, Caroline. He must pay for his crimes.”

“I said -” her teeth clench; her features darken, “- no!” A blur against the sky, she vamps across the yard to block each and every one of his advances. She shoves against his chest, swipes at his athletic kicks with her boot heels, and snaps out with her fangs like a guard dog to keep him back. Away.

“His worth is mine, and mine alone, to decide. You got that, E?” she says in an obnoxious way that mocks his new nickname pointedly, unapologetically; her veins rippling across her cheekbones for extra measure. “It’d be best for you not to forget it. You know - like, ever.”

“Well, then—” He takes a step back, his forehead pinched in mounting irritation. “I guess we have nothing further to discuss, do we?”

“Nope.”

After a shrug and a look of pity, “I’m afraid this pretty little blonde of yours has left me no choice here, Hybrid,” he announces in a loud, reverberating voice.

Elijah speaks to the air, to the clouds forming shapes over their heads, but his eyes sweep across the property. His ears prick as if they wait for his brother’s howled outcry to sound on the wind in the seething, murderous way he’d once been so accustomed to hearing, and also to preventing. There is no movement anywhere except where the sun crests over the hill, however. All the purples and oranges dancing with shadows to tint the land like a bruise. There’s no sound besides the screeching tires of a Camaro on the highway ten miles distant. There’s nothing else around besides a dirt road, a decrepit house, and a stubborn, sassy girl poised between them.

Thirty more seconds pass before Elijah’s gaze settles back over on Caroline. It’s another thirty-five seconds after that before he’s rife enough with detached predation, hunger, and resolve to act.

He levels his chin once he decides. And as he charges forward with a stake positioned for the spot where two rings dangle against her chest, above her heart, the next words to leave his throat burst forth in grave monotone,

“Time to die,” he says.

Bad blood and violence follow Klaus everywhere.

It’s a foul shadow chomping at the base of his achilles heel hoping to munch its way through to destroy all he cherishes because he’s a man forged from sin, dark magic, and bones of adaptability. A combination which shouldn’t be allowed to exist in this world unless it’s broken - purged - from the outside in with all the dominion he possesses slit from his tendons by his foes in fury. Greed. Fear. Hate. Or envy. It’s a javelined spear which spills his loved ones’ blood onto cobblestone paths or fried country grasses in red river rain because he somehow arrives too late to keep the bolt from striking, the lightning.

His worst fears flood the land as a result. Thunder rumbles overhead to plunge everyone’s lives into peril at once, pellets of hail dropping like canons. Erupting the earth to widen the crossable distance between them. The sky is a jaw full of teeth which drools something about abominations, or about purity that must crunch all twisty tornados dead in their tracks.

A storm of hell descends while he’s distracted and struggling against his enemies’ vengeance, limbs extended in four different directions; his arms flying while eyes hybridize with focus, anger, so that someone who matters is always left exposed. Vulnerable. Like a flapping thread which spools from the corner of a whirlpool.

It’s simple math for him, truth be told. It’s even simpler science. There are too many holes, and Klaus cannot defend them all on his own. It doesn’t matter how hard he tries because somebody always slips over a ledge and falls flat into physics’ grasp. Gravity claiming what he’s dropped, who he’s lost. And it’s all his fault.

His fault, his fault, his fault.

The rising tide of everyone’s screams and taken or deflected blows creates a wave of horror Klaus cannot climb over with blood-drenched hands, with slippery soles, and it makes it impossible for him to catch every person he cares for before they sink, before they drown to the bottom of a gorge he’ll never be able to breach with one arm extended. He needs more time, more time, more time. He needs more bloody time! Please.

But what happens if there isn’t any? What comes after the world fissures open with the intent to swallow up the good in everything? What then, what does one do next?

Klaus clamors, he claws his way over to them.

He packs his unconscious daughter into a car seat next to Roman and Marcel then watches the SUV disappear down the lane, its wheels screeching as it ushers two people he loves toward home and security. He turns back to the house afterwards to collect the two women he’s left idling on the estate five miles away, who each scan for more threats in his absence as they wait, only for the back door to splinter wider the closer he roams. It chips next. Before, finally, it busts open with a loud crack to shoot wood and body parts loose.

Debris launches forward with such force that his arms shield his head in reflex while he rolls to the left to avoid a collision with an airborne Hayley. A fate Klaus escapes, but barely.

He pushes up onto his elbows. When he does, the heat from her near-miss manages to singe some hairs on the back of his neck, chafing them down to stubs of red. A hammer thuds loud in his ears as he blinks in the nightmare which unfolds before him: the mother of his child sailing through the backyard tangled in rods of fire. And Greta. And a self-sacrifice too awful to believe.

It’s bloody horrifying to behold, truly.

The sunlight pours over Hayley’s skin like gasoline, and she’s suddenly a molting phoenix: red fades to orange, and orange dwindles to gray which then darkens to black. All of her life’s color draining in seconds until she’s gone. Dust. Dead.

And there Klaus is left to witness it all.

There, on a frayed patch of yard, beneath the stark midday sun, Klaus lies agape in the filth of his own making yet again. A Father of Cinders. An Usher of Ruin. The smell of Hayley's charred flesh quickly becoming another orange stink he must learn how to breathe in and out of his nostrils like flame, like ash—the crispest of all things he’s failed to save for his family’s sake.

Sure, why not add another disaster to the ever-multiplying list, he thinks? Why not shoulder all the responsibility for a tragedy from which Hope will never recover? Elijah, either, if he returns to himself someday. How can he not assume the blame for this?

His fault, his fault, his fault.

The temptation to remain crumpled on his knees right now is as potent as the bourbon Klaus needs to slick his throat, to numb the ache in his head, but a faint voice gusts into the clearing at that moment which is equal parts sonorous and soft when it chokes out defiance, strength, and fortitude into the air; and the sound causes him to scrabble to his feet with the speed of a cheetah to pursue the last hope here he knows he can’t bear to lose. Let alone whom.

Fifty paces hence takes mere seconds, but they feel like decades.

Her still-ticking pulse becomes the drumbeat each of his strides produces as he dashes to the front of the house in a blur of alarm. It’s what keeps him breathing. She’s what keeps him moving when his panic thumps so strong he grinds the enamel on his molars off clean.

The world collapses and narrows until her loudening voice is all Klaus hears, until her golden head snaps in his direction again because she’s the only thing he wants to see. She’s the balm to all his monstrosity, to his debilities, and he needs her. He needs her alive more than anything.

Still, a roar from the wolf deep in his chest is not enough to convey all the emotion he feels. There’s no lid to quiet the pain. There’s no coffin to smother it…all of that rage.

Caroline will not be torn from him, too. No, no, no. Never. Not today she won’t, not in a hundred million more lifetimes if he can prevent it. And he bloody will—

Even if it’s the last thing in this life he’s meant to do.

Dust and blood coat her slacks after some minutes of vampire vs. vampire tousling. Prone on her back with gravel stuck in her hair, Caroline fends off her attacker with another boot kick to the groin followed by a swift clonk to the jaw.

“You know, I should be pissed about how many of you asshole Mikaelsons have tried to kill me over the years, but do you know what? I’m no damsel,” she says, tumbling into a squat. “I’m not too dainty to fight back. So go on—” Her words are clipped, her breath heavy with exertion. “Go on and hit me with your best shot, you Wrangler-wearing amnesiac!”

“Interesting choice of last words.”

A stake gripped firmly in each of his fists, Elijah swings down with the right one. It rips off a small patch of her skin with her black sleeve. Since she evaded the more direct hit by wheeling to the right, however, the wound heals quickly.

Caroline laughs. It’s a taunting, corrosive sound.

“You wish those were my last words, buddy.”

“Chatter all you want, girl. But know this,” he says in a tone as equally dispassionate as it is menacing,“I’ll still kill you to help my family dispose of the Mikaelsons’ mixed blood. We will rid the world of their plague one way or another.”

“God, will you listen to yourself right now!?”

Using her shoulders as leverage, Caroline pushes up to slug him across the face for a second time. Elijah spits blood from the corner of his mouth after the blow knocks him backwards. Still standing, however, his jaw taut, he looms forward again in seconds.

“Those people are not your family,” she says. “You’re freaking brainwashed!”

“No. What I am is free.”

“Great. So you’re deluded, too, apparently. That’s freaking fantastic,” Caroline grumbles. Scooting upwards onto her elbows, she strikes out at his ankle with her heel but misses it by inches.

“Luckily for me, your family’s long range psychosis (your real family, I mean) is well-worn and likely to flare every now and again, so I’m used to this kind of thing. I’m stronger because of it. Smarter, too,” she adds as her fingers coil beneath her. Looking up, her lips twitch before she hurls a handful of gravel into Elijah’s face without warning.

Even though he blocks most of it with his forearms, some of the rubble stings his eyes long enough for her to lurch for one of his weapons, which she promptly deposits into his gut. The action drops him to his knees in momentary agony, cursing.

“That may be so,” he grunts, his tongue licking over his mouth roughly, “but I’m afraid even with all that expertise, and despite all of your self-proclaimed Mikaelson experience—”

Elijah’s quicker to recover than Caroline anticipates. He grabs her by the hair before she can flash away, throwing her against the porch railing with a loud smash.

“You’ll never be able to beat me.” It’s whispered almost like a caress. “You can’t win this fight,” he says.

“Then I suppose I’ll have to die trying, won’t I?” Caroline fires back.

“Die?” Elijah snickers. Blood - his blood - drips from the spike he’s dislodged from his ribs. He angles it at her chest again. “Oh, die you will.”

With him towering above her once more, his fangs out, sharpened with fatal purpose, he sneers as Caroline crab walks backward to the first step, which she then uses as a ledge to erect herself back onto her feet with fluid grace.

“Pardon the intrusion,” a voice cuts in at that moment with a low growl, not sorry at all, “but I wouldn’t underestimate that one if I were you. She’s made of the sweetest flames."

“And I’ll roast you for one false move, pal,” Caroline pipes in with a huff.

Squinting, Elijah regards her like she’s a cockroach.

“Death would suit you rather nicely, I think. Yes,” he hisses, “imagine the silence I’ll achieve with it soon.”

She raises her chin to fix him with a look of incredulity at this. It’s a look that, for all its azure ferocity and resistance, would impale his eyeballs to the nearest fence post if it could; but also would like to bludgeon open his head with the plume of a feather to reinstate all his emotional memories first.

“Enough!” the intruder exclaims. He grabs the Original by the shoulder at the same time Caroline rips a spoke free of the railing. “Threatening her life would be ill-advised for anyone under normal circumstances, but this…why - this is—are you bloody insane?"

“Come, come, why not watch while I suck the last visage of light from her veins? A few slurps is all it’d take to silence her forever,” Elijah says in the voice of a stranger, in the voice of an adversary. His lips curl in sinister delight. “What a lovely thought that is.”

“I said enough!” the trespasser growls again. Louder this time. Zooming closer, he’s a ball of temper and anxiety as he clutches the other man by the leather lapels.

“There are limits to the wrath I am able to contain even for you…” he draws out the last bit for emphasis, the vein in his forehead throbbing as Caroline tucks the weapon into her jacket, “brother.”

“Does this girl mean so much to you, Hybrid?” Elijah says.

In answer, Klaus hurls him like a dart at the barn doors across the yard, “Do. Not. Test. Me,” he howls.

Dropping over top of him in a flurry of color, and darkness, and fury that’s hardened his eyes into an inferno of hybrid gold, he kicks through the wreckage until he reaches Elijah’s prone  form beneath a heap of crumpled lumber. He lifts him up by the throat. Then he slams his head hard against a lone standing beam, thrusting a finger into his face.

“There has been enough blood spilt here today, Elijah. Too much.”

“Tell me,” he answers with a strangled cough and a blink, “am I supposed to care?”  

“Klaus, stop, you can’t talk to him. He’s wily and unhinged like this. A morally skewed prick. Just look at his dragging hems, for crying out loud!” Caroline says as she approaches from behind. “That’s proof enough he’s been mentally and magically corrupted by them.”

“Our family has been fractured beyond repair,” Klaus continues without hearing her. He looks a little crazed as he shakes his brother in place like it’ll somehow refasten those loose screws in his brain. “Hayley’s gone - the mother of my child, the woman you loved…is dead. Dead! You let her fall straight into our enemy’s lap!”

“But so help me, I will wring your wretched neck—“ His voice grows thick; heavy, and it hurts to swallow, “I will chain you inside a box (which is something I swore I’d never do to someone in this family again) before I allow you to take Caroline away, too.”

It’s in that moment, just as the sun eclipses behind a cloud to dim the atmosphere like an omen, the wind punting flower petals through the air like knives which sting when they kiss a piece of exposed skin, that Elijah’s features contort into something worse than inscrutable. They refashion, instead, into something aggressive and deranged.

“Her shrieks will sound so much more delicious to me when you fail to save her now, Hybrid,” he says. “I admit I can hardly wait for the symphony.”

“Screw you!” Caroline shouts back.

That’s when he lurches forward to grab Klaus by the elbow. With unimaginable force, he yanks. Fracturing it with a violent twist.

The action frees his two legs, which had been dangling in the air where he was tacked only seconds ago, so that he’s able to kick out at his foe’s knees. Unbalancing him enough to bite his shoulder and push backwards against his chest. Elijah nearly shirks the arm which is swinging back at him in retaliation, but not quite.

Hybrid claws catch his face even though he ducks. Like hooks, they dig and pry into his skin because he’s still within range and Klaus is livid, monstrous beyond legend; leaving cursive track marks from Elijah’s eyebrow all the way down through the white of his collarbone.

Still, the other man’s wide-arced punches leave Elijah with an advantage in the end. One carries too far to the left and exposes his side. Before Klaus can stop him, therefore, and before he can recover in time to parry the attack, he upends him with a knee that breaks his nose and reduces his vision to black dots and sprouting stars. It gives him ample time and opportunity to pin him to the ground with the loose barn beam at his feet. Piercing it through his kidney.

That’s how Elijah leaves him, too: sprawled, writhing, raging, helpless.

It’s why he turns his attentions back to Caroline with keener insight. There’s a patient but exacting grin on his lips as he lays chase again because it’s her vs. him for a moment, and there’s a fierceness blooming across her face that says ‘you’ll pay for that dearly, jerk face.’ It feeds his muscles with adrenaline; it plies his mind with rigor. He craves the rush like heroin.

For it’s here, after everything, that he truly understands Caroline won’t leave Klaus under any circumstances. For, no matter how damning the danger grows, and no matter how stacked-against the odds are in her favor, he sees she’ll leap straight into hell itself if it’ll offer her the slightest chance to reach him again.

How could he have missed this? How could he not have noticed the jewel she’s concealed behind her incessant prattle?

His worth is mine to decide, she’d said to him earlier. Mine.

Her words reverberate with too strong a connotation to demarcate their connection into anything less significant than lovers. Lovers. It makes Elijah feel like an imperceptive fool.

That’s why it doesn’t matter how her death happens now, he’s decided.

He’s realized it’s not important whether he skewers her pink flesh into shoelace peels with his teeth, or detaches her bouncing blonde head from her shoulders with the branch of a tree. It matters not if he cuts through her innards, roasts her in the sun, sucks out her sweet flames through her carotid artery, or wraps her wagging tongue around a heart that no longer beats. All that’s necessary is for her life to end here. Today. All that’s required is for Klaus to be parked in a front row seat, powerless and wretched because he’s piked through the torso, watching—

Watching as Elijah wrenches this girl away from him irrevocably.

The thought makes the elder Original smile.

What is better retribution, after all? What could be better justice for the man who’s already tried to snuff out the love which exists between he and Antoinette? The selfish, sabotaging man. How much easier will it be to extract what they need from him afterwards? Once she’s dead.

Ah, the glory of it! The honor! Punishment for both the Hybrid’s meddling and his impurity will be much more satisfactory to achieve now that he knows the best way to inflict it—personally.

“Listen for the crescendo, will you? I believe it’s my favorite cadence of killing,” he says, glancing at Klaus over his shoulder to add drolly, “brother.”

“No more of this! No more of this, damn you!” he replies as his fingernails bruise the land where he’s still impaled.

“Klaus! Listen to me, please!”

Like a whip, Caroline’s voice cracks at the same moment gray rain begins to spit on top of them from stratus mouths. The wind gusts so hard it vibrates with staffs of yellow and blue and shatters all the remaining windows in the house. The space around them transforms into a whistling hellmouth of tension and grief, of anger and estrangement, and of terror too palpable to bear, in seconds.

And what’s worse, is that the worst of it all feels tragically possible now because Elijah’s all coup de force with shards of wood flying everywhere as his skewed morality and loyalty to the wrong family helps to move his feet like a rabid beast’s. Meanwhile, Caroline’s zooming forward through a fang-bared maze and cycloning storm with eyes that scream out, then pour into the beam stuck in Klaus’ back almost in elegy.

The inflamed blue of her eyes drenches his soul in any number of ways, because what if he can’t shatter this obstacle soon? What if he doesn’t…what if she…how can he not save her? How?

Leaping over Klaus’ arms at that moment, she flashes away with Elijah on her haunches. Then, without breaking stride, she reaches into her jacket pocket before she glances back at the prone Original long enough to demand for him to understand. Pleading for him to place faith and trust in what her words mean, “The jeans, Klaus! The freaking jeans!” she yells as she jets in front of him one last time.

“So wasteful,” Elijah says as he nearly hooks an arm around her neck in victory, “since those truly will be your last words this—”

Trip

Stab

Snap

He’s unconscious and face-first on the ground in seconds. A railing spoke from the porch jabbed between his two shoulder blades.

“I think not as much as you’ll regret being brought down by your own poor fashion choices. Compel yourself a tailor next time. I mean, really,” Caroline says over his body with a triumphant hum, cuffing up his baggy pant legs. She pops up from a crouch to take Klaus’ offered hand with a weak smile afterwards.

“That was inspired thinking on your part,” he says.

“Nah, not really. Legally Blonde obsession simply served me well today is all.”

“Elle Woods has nothing on you, love. Believe me.”

“Yeah, well, no way was your brother getting away with saying I talk too much. No man would. Besides,” she continues with a snort, “you did warn him not to underestimate me.”

“That I did.”

After they tie Elijah to a tree out of sight with the vervain chains in her trunk, intent on keeping him subdued until their non-Hollow’d reinforcements arrived to take him away, they amble back toward the house.

“Thanks for the tripping assist, by the way,” Caroline says.

Shrugging, Klaus slinks an arm around her waist like it belongs there, “It was the least I could do.”

“Come on, teamwork suits us. Don’t deny it,” she says with a bump of her hip.

“I’m not.”

“What’s wrong?” she asks suspiciously, her heightened senses on red alert again because of his abstract demeanor. “Is there another—”

“No,” he cuts in, his thumb hooking more firmly into her belt loop, “it’s nothing.”

Caroline rolls her eyes at his flat, disgruntled tone, at the way he sighs before disappearing into the enigmatic labyrinth of his mind where she can’t follow, so she stops them on a seared patch of sidewalk. Then crosses her arms.

“Look, I know me being the one to stab him wasn’t ideal,” she says, feeling his growing intensity, “but with the beam already starting to splinter in your back like that, I knew if I ran him close enough you’d be able to topple him so I could—”

Klaus shuts her up with a kiss.

The timing of it is bad. (Couldn’t be worse, really.) It’s totally inappropriate considering how fraught the past twenty minutes have been with the threat of magic and wolf-binding, with a rescue of innocents that’s succeeded but still reeks of flesh and bloodshed, of muck, and of family wreckage that will never be able to be repaired because it’s been ripped off the hinges. It’s burnt to shreds with a house and a barn that’s no longer standing upright.

There’s so much to discuss, too. There are so many decisions to be made about what to do next…

Hayley? Hope? Elijah? New Orleans?

Do they collect the girl’s ashes before they leave; and if so, in what? How will Hope react once she awakes? What all did Roman know about this? Can they find a witch/Marcel team to fix Elijah’s mind, or is it hopeless to try now that so much of him has been magically reconditioned? Should she call Bonnie, or would that cross some kind of line? And, like, could the sky stop weeping blood already because - Mikaelson curse or not - who the hell needs all this staining and stickiness on their designer clothes?

…And on and on and on the questions flow!

The biggest problem now, though, is that Klaus’ kiss is so hot and crushing with feeling that it’s halted the million-and-a-half thoughts buzzing through Caroline’s head which still need solving. She’s too distracted, too lost to the sweet but scraping taste of his tongue in her mouth.

He makes love to her lips in a way no one but an artist knows how. There’s an array of color, meticulousness, delicacy, and swooping claim to be laid down on her wherever she allows him to paint with his kisses. And before she knows it, before she can locate her sense of rationality long enough to steady her pulse again and stop this, her fingers are burying themselves into the curls at the nape of his neck to draw him closer, and closer; the giant butterfly flip in her stomach telling her only one thing:

Screw it. Let the questions wait for awhile.

So she does.

They do.