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descentivity · 3 years

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Depression, Trauma, (and Most Importantly,) My Thoughts on Hello Charlotte EP1 & 2

Eating has been difficult for me for as long as I remember. It started off as an aversion to food, in favour of spending my time more efficiently on what my dumb little mind viewed as more important: Homework, video games.

Over time, it turned into anorexia. I had already gotten used to eating just under 500 calories a day, and my depression took my poor habits and twisted them into a cowardly and slow attempt at suicide.

On my road to recovery, I’ve found that years of poor eating choices have lead to my body struggling to process food. I have to eat at a painstakingly slow pace lest my stomach turns against me, and the smell of food is sometimes enough to diminish my appetite altogether. My bowel movements are, for lack of a better word, a shitshow.

This brings me to today, the 10th of August, 2021. 6 or so years of barely eating enough to survive later, I’m setting the world record for the slowest consumption of a fillet o’ fish in the history of mankind.

In my absolute boredom and unfathomable stomach pain, ManlyBadassHero’s playthrough of some random horror game (I can’t remember the name) appears in my YouTube recommended, and I’m reminded of a horror game I bought on sale on Steam, the last of a trilogy. In all honesty, I only bought the game because it was dirt cheap and one of my sisters’ names is Charlotte. I was too horrified at the time to process the story nor play the previous two games, so I did a quick achievement run and left it at that. I was certainly very confused as I had no idea who any of the characters or what any of the concepts were, but the gore had me too mortified to go and find out myself.

A year later, I’m looking the trilogy up on ManlyBadassHero’s YouTube channel, and decide to start from the beginning of his Hello Charlotte journey, in 2016.

Hello Charlotte EP1

I’m going to be completely honest with you, the first game really didn’t resonate with me too well. It was a cute, quirky, RPG Maker horror game, with two loveable main characters and an interesting world. However, with context from the third game, the events felt too self-isolated and inconsequential. Felix and Charlotte are in a little self-contained TV world created by a fictional race called Pythia - creatures with 3 or 4 eyes that can create miniature dimensions, once brought into a hivemind by an “Oracle,” which seems to be some sort of god. They all seem to be falling apart and have taken a horrific turn as most of the Pythia have been “executed,” and those who haven’t have either gone mad or into hiding in their own bubbles of (albeit temporary) safety.

The ending of the game is somewhat misleading, too. Once Charlotte and Felix escape the TV world by having Charlotte merge with the Oracle itself, the game almost plays off the previous events like they were all a story made up by a young and imaginative Charlotte. Did they happen at all? Is she a reliable narrator or point of view to begin with? (Spoiler alert, she is not.) The explanation for it all seems to be that Charlotte herself is a schizophrenic, though the legitimacy of this is brought into question in the third game, which I will talk about later. Altogether, the game didn’t bring out many strong emotions in me, and I was starting to zone out as I moved on to the second game’s playthrough.

Hello Charlotte EP2

What struck me as odd in the second game is that while the first game seemed to bring Charlotte out of her own strange, black-and-white world and back into reality, we’ve found out that she’s right back where we started last game. A black-and-white world, inhabited by her imaginary friends. Aliens, gods, and the like. However, Charlotte’s seemingly made-up world feels more alive this time. I’m not sure if this is the consequence of the game developer improving their skills or an intentional detail, but even more characters are introduced, and previously shallow tenants of Charlotte’s home are given more depth. The hazmat-suit wearing aliens have faces, personalities and whole backstories attached to them, now. Charlotte has a best friend at school named Anri, who has a obsessive crush on her. She’s friends with a bullying victim named C with horrible germaphobia, who has almost identical struggles to her (more on those struggles later.)

What also surprised me is the continuity between the first and second game. For some reason, I thought that this Charlotte would be starting from scratch, completely oblivious to the fate of the first game’s iteration. However, this concept only seems to be used in the third game, so I guess I was simply mislead. This game, in fact, takes place 3 years after the first, and the Oracle still lives on within Charlotte’s conscious. However, it’s a dying god, on its last leg. It had already been dying during the time of the last few Pythia, but it had used the last of its strength to free Felix and Charlotte from their world. As the Oracle’s health declines, so does Charlotte’s mortal body.

Unlike the first game, most of the themes in this game hit way too close to home. The feeling of second-hand helplessness when someone you barely knew ends their own life. Anri’s obsessive and outright manipulative lesbian crush on Charlotte, bordering on bullying. The schooltime harrassment and trauma Charlotte underwent. The fear and dangers of social interaction. Feeling unlawfully punished by your school teachers for seemingly nothing at all. Depression, self harm, and the primal urge to escape from it. Getting roped into others’ mental health, until both of your issues converge into a disgusting amalgamation of the need but severe lack of therapy and a break from it all. Delusions of what could’ve been and the possible, yet near impossible future ahead. Looking back on everything you’ve ever done and regretting every second of it.

While I ticked off the trauma presented to me on a silver platter in the form of a fucking RPG Maker game like a twisted bucket list, I found myself relating more and more to not only Charlotte, but the students around her. Scarlett, whose life was so perfect that nobody had even thought about her possible mental issues until it was far too late. Anri, who would lay down her life for a girl who simply doesn’t feel the same way. C, who desperately wanted to escape from reality by any means possible.

An interesting fact about Hello Charlotte is that there are numerous omnipotent beings amongst its cast. They aren’t shy about providing very in-depth character analysis to Charlotte, and in turn, to the puppeteer (I suppose now is a good time to inform those who are unfamiliar with the series that the puppeteer refers to a species, character, and the player, all at once. Charlotte has a puppeteer controlling her by the name of Seth. You are/are controlling Seth as the player. Capiche? Capiche.)

What this meant for me watching Manly’s playthrough was the feeling of two gods (in this game, at least) peering right into my soul, analysing characters that reflected my exact experiences and even my personality during my school days. I learned and realised things about myself that I simply hadn’t known before. Just like Charlotte, I’m simply looking for direction in life, and I’m too afraid to act without instructions. I found myself bullied, manipulated and abandoned by someone who simply wanted my affections, and only learned to miss them when they were gone. Like Anri, my desperation for love and approval from an individual in turn lead to anger and resentment for them. Like both Charlotte and C, I eventually turned to hurting myself to make all the pain go away, refusing help from others and developing a shell of false optimism and naivety to forget about the damage I had dealt to my body, personality and relationships.

As much as I hate to admit it on my little obscure Tumblr blog with 0 followers and 0 traction, I still struggle with these things. I have no direction in life, and wander aimlessly, hoping for one of my offshot attempts at content creation to take off. I find myself missing the girl who emotionally abused me to hell and back every day. I resent another girl for never feeling the same way I felt about her. I still don’t take care of myself, and spend every day in a state of denial about my physical decline and sickliness. I’m so incompetent emotionally that I spend days ignoring my own boyfriend, starving him of the proper relationship that he deserves all because of how broken, fragmented and distant my own mind is.

Hello Charlotte EP2 has four endings. All four of them, in my eyes, are bad.

In the first, C and Charlotte overdose together, leaving their mortal realm to become gods. They choose to ignore and forget the pains of their mortal lives, and live the rest of their godly lives in ignorant bliss. Do I want to forget about my depression and trauma? Learn nothing, and forget about everything that made me who I am today? Or worse even, do I dare take the plunge into “godhood,” and leave this mortal plane to end my suffering altogether?

In the second, Charlotte discovers that C isn’t who she thinks he is, and she finds him without a soul. Alive, but empty. Charlotte could not save him. Consumed by grief, she ascends and becomes a god, consuming the entire world around her. After all is said and done, she realizes her mistake. All of her friends are gone, C is still empty and unresponsive, and now she is alone. Sometimes, I feel as though I’ve already gone through this ending, many times over. Countless times I’ve let my depression become all-consuming and take over my life. I’ve pushed so many people away and hurt so many more, and for what? I have nothing to gain from every fit of depression, and the consequences make it seem nothing more but a selfish attempt to make myself feel better.

In the third, Charlotte is the only one who dies. In her last moments, the Oracle comforts her, like a mother cradling her child. They embrace, and say goodbye to each other, as Charlotte’s own life was the only thing keeping the dying god alive. At this point, I’ve started to draw parallels between the Oracle and depression. Depression isn’t always a horrible thing that beats you down and keeps you from being truly happy. Sometimes, wallowing in my own sadness and depression would be the only thing that keeps you sane, stable, and calm. The feeling of hopelessness really is bittersweet, and in desperate times, goes hand-in-hand with acceptance of one’s circumstance. Oftentimes, I find that this is the most realistic way I’ll go out. One day, I may just accept depression, and succomb to it. There may not be a struggle at all. Rather, a quiet, submissive hum, which will fade away into silence.

In the fourth and final ending, Charlotte and C die alongside each other. After her death, Charlotte confronts the Oracle, and wishes to save everyone, and for everyone to be unhappy. Of course, this is where the classic saying: “Be careful what you wish for” comes in. Because of her wish, everyone’s soul, what makes them individual and unique, is erased. After all, no one can suffer if they cannot think at all. In some ways, emptiness is pure bliss. This once again goes back to the bittersweetness of depression. The sheer emptiness it may bring on, at times, is bliss. Feeling nothing isn’t always a bad thing. It’s a way to cope with the horrors of the world. To remember nothing at all is such a tempting yet unattainable solution that I can’t say I haven’t longed for in the near or distant past. Charlotte, of course, is distraught that her friends are all gone, their identities and souls lost forever. Following this, she has one request to make of another god, the observer. She wishes to be killed, as all of her actions have lead to nothing but pain for others and herself. The observer, however, refuses this offer. Instead, he comforts her and takes her hand. They go on a journey together. He suggests that one day, she’ll learn to control her power, and she can recreate the world and her friends. As they leave, Charlotte reflects on her hopes and dreams for the journey. She hopes to learn to be kind, and not hurt others. She wants to change her ways, and become an honest, good person. Charlotte, slowly but surely, is on the road to recovery.

Putting the unsettling sequel to this game aside, maybe I could learn a little bit from Charlotte.

#tw suicide #tw depression #tw anorexia #tw self harm #disordered eating tw #hello charlotte #charlotte wiltshire #anri warhol #scarlett eyler #charles eyler #indie horror #review

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widonotts · 4 years

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Watched 7x03 a day late, so I’m only just now starting to see everyone’s thoughts, and... I really liked it? Kinda confused at the criticism, ngl. My main problem was that the pacing of the radiation storyline was off; everything was slow where it should have been harried, and Raven needed a set piece to actually demonstrate to the audience that what she was doing was important—she needed a tropey computer panel to be anxiously typing at, not just a screen to stare at the whole episode lmao.

But the actual situation? Amazing, imo. I’ve been wanting more focus on Raven & hard decisions since... well, Season 2, really. I thought 4x03 was going to be a lasting lesson and was hopeful to see that storyline play out; even in 4x03, her denial of medicine to the sick Floukru members was partially forgiven by the show when it was revealed the medicine didn’t help anyway. But this episode was different; the situation didn’t have to play out so tragically.

Since Jason said in an interview that Raven would be facing similarly hard choices to Clarke and Bellamy, I had been wondering exactly how they’d set it up. Because the fact is, Raven has made and pushed for some of these decisions before—there’s just been someone else who actually pulled the lever, whether literally or metaphorically. But this scenario was in Raven’s wheelhouse, and she’s in the lead.

But why didn’t Raven just go in there and do it herself? That’s where I think the show could’ve done with some more visual demonstration of what Raven was doing, to be fair. Controlling the coolant was, in fact, vital, but we needed to see that—they needed to show and not just tell. But Raven saying she couldn’t help, and she needed to be doing it? I don’t think that’s out-of-character at all. Raven’s confidence and self-assuredness are at the core of her character; it’s the first trait we see in her. It’s amazing to see her so certain of herself and her ability to get shit done.

It’s a double-edged sword, though. Raven gets so set in the importance of her own tasks that she can be short-sighted about what other people need to be doing, sometimes not doing justice to the difficulty of those tasks. Think 2x11, when she’s frustrated with Clarke’s feeling of helpessness: “I’m building a damn tone generator. You do your job!” “What is my job?” “I don’t know!” Or take 4x03 (aka 7x03 Lite), when she’s anxious for Clarke to make the list while she manages rationing, but also expresses indignation at the idea that she herself would be able to make or help Clarke in making it. “Choosing who gets to live or die is your specialty.”

7x03 felt similar; she was so sure of the necessity of her own job, doubling down on that position due to the extreme level of stress she was under. She couldn’t step in, because she’s the only one who knows how to do what she’s doing. It was a long-overdue moment in her arc to me. having supported Clarke and Bellamy and Abby by being the technical/mechanical genius for so long, Raven rarely had to be the one to make the toughest of decisions and take the blame; the show’s focus on leadership and the idea of “heavy lies the head that wears the crown” has made sure of that.

I’ve also seen it said that it’s out of character that Raven didn’t just tell the truth. Yes, notably, Raven has so often advocated for telling the truth in times of disaster rather than keeping people in ignorant bliss. But it’s different when you’re the one who has to look someone in the face and tell them their lives will be at risk if they help you. Especially when you’re talking to people you know only as violent, self-serving criminals—murderers who tortured you. And we’ve already seen Raven taking a bit of a leadership position among the Ark folks this season in Bellamy’s absence and Clarke’s focus on Madi and the factions; in that leadership position, Raven has already had to make the difficult decision to lie in convincing Murphy and Emori to keep up their false identities.

So it didn’t feel contrived to me at all that this was the way it played out. It feels long-overdue, and I’m so happy to see Raven given her own focus this season after being so sidelined in Season 6. I can’t wait to see more.

#raven reyes #the 100 #the 100 meta #t100 spoilers #the 100 7x03

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sereisstuff · 5 years

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the prince of darkness part 2

Demon!Kim Taehyung x Chubby Reader

part 1 / part 3/ part 4

summary- Taehyung pays you a visit to prepare you to meet his father Hades, unknowingly The son of Poseidon isn’t far behind. warnings-swearing!!, flirtatious Tae.

(a/n)=This took me a lot longer then expected, i didn’t know it would do so well so i’m both extremely happy and surprised i’m going to make this a 18 chapter book, also to celebrate my ask box will be open for demon!taehyung and remember guys all the characters(meaning the oc) i do will be chubby thank you all so much and enjoy!!

The night went on as your body shook after the contact to ease your mind. you sunk into the comforts of you bed letting the blankets surround you in their warmth, you didn’t bother to turn the light off feeling as if Hades son will return in the brink of dawn to remind you of your deal that made you feel both afraid and utterly confused.

The thought now knowing that earth wasn’t the only realm that walked the path of the living, you of course believed in multiple things i mean there's millions of planets we can’t possibly be the only ones in the universe, Right?.

The dark book was fluttered on the ground leaving your arms to lay helplessly on the carpet whilst you tried to lock your thoughts in the far back of your mind so you can gain enough peace to sleep.

After hours your inner self grew exhausted forcing you to sleep which was gladly accepted with open arms, the comforts soon felt like clouds hugging you with their soft form as they sunk into you drifting into and endless bliss.

Soon morning snuck around you also forgot to shut your curtains last night so the early morning light burned the lids of your eyes, shifting your body to face the wall only to feel a cold breath hitting your face thinking your parents must have come into the room to grab something leaving the door open making the room vulnerable to the dusk air, you did the only thing you always do. Ignored it.

Shifting your leg upwards finding a comfortable spot to rest your limb eventually feeling a cold grasp latch itself on you jolting out of shock to search for the cause of what happened “I was wondering when you were gonna wake up ”Taehyung admitted resting his palm under the covers against your thigh.

“What the fuck!!” you screamed shoving him back, only to be sent tumbling off of the bed with force Taehyung’s inhumane strength came from his father thus meaning if a plane crashed into him the plane would be the one with more damage.

“I’m finding this whole swearing thing extremely attractive”

“Don’t speak, it's too early in the morning for words to be spoken”you grumbled scratching your scalp as you stood up forgetting that you only wear oversized hoodies to bed the gesture to rub your scalp lifted its edges giving the young demon a tease of insight.

“This sight is good enough to take the words right out of my mouth”Taehyung stared at your voluptuous body with a playful gaze, you seethed out in anger having to clench your hands together throwing your mop of hair to the side”you suck”a strong glare was sent his way as you held on to the sides of your hoodie.

“Well of course i do but i preferred to be sucked, don’t you”he playfully looked at you, standing from the bed.

The words were at the tips of his tongue before you decided to ignore any sort of disturbing comment to escape his mouth, rushing to the kitchen making yourself a nice hot chocolate and a few pieces of toast Taehyung made his way down the stairs grumbling at the sight of the home, bland everything was too bland nowhere near his liking.

You continued to make yourself breakfast as he stared everywhere touching every accessory in the preferable view of your home, popping the toast as you coated it with butter finishing your hot chocolate with a few teaspoons of sugar before taking a seat and eating breakfast peacefully fully dismissing the presence of that being.

Taehyung wrapped his arms around your wide waist giving it a squeeze, his eyes began to darken as he took in your early morning scent his inner demon began to conjure itself from the depths of his soul Taehyung was the son of a god suppressing his natural instincts was never good.

“T-taehyung you can let go now” you muttered noticing the veins bulging from his neck and arms, for most that's a turn on but noticing the way he groaned in pain didn’t please your ears.

Taehyung rolled his head back before releasing himself from your warmth constantly reminding himself of your status, a mere mortal whose body isn’t made for the son of a god his true form was much larger, aggressive and demonic he still looks the same but with added features.

“I’m sorry your scent is just too overwhelming,” he muttered you could only bark in laughter “I smell like shit, what are you talking about” Taehyung's head shot up as he went into denial “to me your scent is alluring and I don't know why but I'll find out, for now, darling we must get on to more important things as much as I don't want too” he groaned pulling at his strands.

“My fathers many talents is smelling fear, if you fear him he will know your lying” he began manspreading across the couch the first thing you noticed was his luxurious outfit suitable for someone of high status which occurred to you that Taehyung must be of high status being the son of one of the big three.

“This whole things a set up he's gonna smell it as soon as I walk in Taehyung”you complained throwing your hands in the air mentally reminding yourself to never mess around with spirits and all things mythical again.

“Well now the situations much more thrilling don’t you think” he said with a wide smirk.

“Thrilling my ass”you complained in a hushed tone.

“Oh no darling your ass would be gladly appreciated if it were up to me”

“Like I would bless you with my ass” The nerve of this man was overwhelming you should really pay more attention in classical studies next time maybe they would have told you about the annoying son that Hades had “need I remind you whose name is marked on your body” Taehyung growled provoking everything in your body to go feral on him, even though you would barely get to him it was worth a try.

You both paused when a loud noise erupted from your sink, the silver metal that once contributed to the advance of your water flew off from the tub making you gasp in horror the water erupted like an active volcano not knowing how to deal with it you tried to run over to where the problem is, but you couldn’t taehyung used his one of his multiple abilities to keep you in place.

“Don’t” he commanded for the first time, the undertone of dominance used in his voice as he continued to stare at the outlet of water.

The water began to levitate from the ground jumbling into one place creating the form of a masculine man, you could only admire the way it began to move the fear of anticipation during this event was unhealthy but now coming face to face with a young man who looked to be younger than you by a year wasn’t as shocking as it should be.

“So this is where you’ve been” the brunette said his light blue eyes giving away his position “Jungkook” Taehyung muttered standing from his place “is this the fiance we’ve all been dying to meet, and she’s mortal now that is a shocker” jungkook walked around you eyeing the built and shape of your form.

“You know the history of mortals” he mentioned again stopping in front of you, he shoots you a bright toothy smile pulling out his hand to shake your own “jungkook son of Poseidon” you took his hand glancing Taehyung who scratched his neck awkwardly upon his cousin's arrival.

“y/n,” you said smiling.

“I thought your parents didn't like each other,”you interjected remembering a lesson in class about it, the two shoot each other a look before nodding”yeah the big guys aren’t very fond of one another but all of their kids are, we have another cousin but he won’t be coming any time soon, hopefully”

“Now as to get back to our less-” jungkook cut him off wrapping an arm around your shoulders “did he not make you wear pants or did you choose to do that yourself,” he whispered, taehyung paused glaring at your legs, he threw jungkook's arms off of your body “don’t look you pervert” Taehyung growled childishly, jungkook looked defeated, but you blushed in embarrassment “says you” he snapped, you left them to fight like children rushing upstairs.

You rushed through the closet grabbing a pair of sweats and a white beanie throwing them on to walk and watch the two idiots fight with each other.

Amongst the fighting your other wrist began to freeze up knowing the odd feeling your eyes widened ”ahhh guys” you tried getting them to look but they continued to fight in a heated argument “Taehyung!!!” you yelled as he looked at you with eyes so black you could see your own reflection”we have a problem” Taehyung groaned looking down at you, shoving your wrist to his face.

His face morphed in anger as he gripped the male's neck“Jungkook you idiot” Taehyung used his deep tone to intimidate the younger god whose name was now written on your wrist the same way Taehyung's one was.

.........

Tag list- @camilaxpolanco @bluemooncnblue @slut-for-fandoms @nabo39 @queen-pharaoh-hatshepsut

Hope you guys enjoyed it!!

#demon taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung fic #kim taehyung imagines #kim taehyung x you #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x chubby reader #taehyung #bts x chubby reader #bts imagines #bts reactions #bts #bts tae x reader #bts taehyung #hybrid taehyung #bts hybrid au

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mlpdestinyverse · 5 years

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“Two Lies and A Truth”

Upon discovering that his mother Lightning Dust has restarted the cycle of rigorous, brutal flight training with his little sister Summer, Skychaser finds the courage to confront the controlling mare for his sister’s sake.

Feat: Skychaser

Story and Description Under The Cut!

Skychaser: How long has this been going on...?

-Within the living room of her home, Lightning turns around to find her teenage son standing behind her in the middle of the room. His stance is stiff and his orange eyes are practically blazing as they bore into her matching gaze-

Lightning Dust: -lets out a short mocking laugh- Months upon months of giving me the cold shoulder, and you finally come talk to me? What, is Equestria about to end-

Skychaser: -stomps his hoof and snaps- STOP! HOW LONG have you been training Summer?!

Lightning: -frowns in distaste- Ugh. Well, now I’m glad your father and sister are out right now. You’re causing a senseless scene as usual, boy.

Skychaser: -scowls- Answer. Me.

Lightning: Psh, a few days. But why should it matter? You dropped your training, remember? -mockingly- The whole ‘You’re a jerk and I don’t care about everything you’ve ever done for me’ business? Or did you forget?

-Skychaser’s wing feathers begin to ruffle. He recalls the sight he had caught when he had walked by the back door just hours before; his small sister, flying what was now to him a hellish inescapable trackwhile Lightning coached her below. He can remember freezing in place, cold fear and anxiety striking him as every memory, every occurence of being forced to practice until he was weak and bruised and praying for an escape, struck him all at one. And now, that anxiety is gripping him again-

Skychaser: -trying to control any shake in his voice; whether this shake is out of distress or anger is beyond him- Why are you doing this? Why are you putting herthrough this now? Why do you want to hurt her-

Lightning: -glowers at Sky, now appearing immensely irritated- Excuse me? When you saw her this morning, did she LOOK hurt? No. She was flying with that sunny little smile of hers on her face, because unlike you, apparently SHE has the passion and strength for flying. More than you ever had. -Huffs- Besides, she kept saying for years that she wanted to be an expert flier. A Wonderbolt, even! -places her hooves on her chest with a “kind” smile- I’m just trying to support her dream like a good mom.

Skychaser: -feels the pent up boiling ball of anger within him flare- “GOOD MOM” MY ASS, you’re exploiting it and you fuckin’ know it!

Lightning: ...hm. You know some pretty big words for a kid who’s fucking up his grades.

Skychaser: -and YOU gave her the Wonderbolts idea-

Lightning: Actually, her admiration of YOU gave her the idea. You may be a, well, disappointing ungrateful dropout, but it turns out your training wasn’t a complete waste of time. It helped me realize what little Sunny’s true destiny is...turns out you were just some trial and error I had to put up with to point me towards our real future pride~ -hums thoughtfully- And it helped me figure out a training method that’ll fulfil her dream and keep her happy.

Skychaser: -shakes head, his gaze icy- No...all you really want is for her to obediently live your old dream. Just like me.

Lightning: Psh. If we share the same dream, what’s the problem with giving her a little push?

Skychaser: -forces down his anxieties and scowls- Because I know you don’t really care about what she wants. YOU only want your own gratification. And after years of enduring your abuse, I know you’ll do and say anything to get what you want. Push her pass her limit, manipulate her feelings to follow your plan. Anything.

Lightning: -sneers- Wow, another big word... I was right. You’re a failure because you just refuse to try hard enough for anything, huh? No wonder you turned out this way. Nasty little brat that you are, ALWAYS overreacting and saying whatever shit you want to say.

Skychaser: -knows that she’s just trying to get a rise out of him- I know how you really are...and I won’t let my sister suffer because of you.

Lightning: -lets out a loud, empty laugh- SUFFER? Are you serious, Sky? Just how dramatic are you??

Skychaser: -turns away from her and begins his trek towards the stairs-

Lightning: What, going back to ignoring me?? I mean what, are you going to go tattle on me like a little boy, crying about how ”abusive” and absolutely mean his mommy is??

-Skychaser grits his teeth, but bears it and continues towards the steps. For a few hoofsteps he realizes his mom has gone quiet. A small moment of relief. Within his head he’s already forming the different things he can explain to Summer, the many ways he can discourage her from accepting Lightning’s training. The things he had kept to himself for years, unwilling to scare or confuse the young blissful filly. But now she was old enough. And now that the situation has changed, he couldn’t risk letting his mother hurt Summer too. No. He would never allow his sister to endure that pain. But just as he’s about to set a hoof on the first step, a single spoken sentence cuts through the air and straight into his chest, like a cold icicle stabbing through him-

Lightning: She’ll hate you, you know.

Skychaser: ….-struggles to keep going. As much as he wants to run away from Lightning’s mouth, he finds himself faltering. Faltering, until he simply places his hoof down and looks over his shoulder at her. Without him knowing, a flicker of hesitation crosses his face- ...what?

Lightning: -eerily calm, but with a sharp, knowing look in her eyes. She motions around her with her wings- We were all perfectly happy before you decided to force your pointless rebellious attitude here. You’ve done nothing but worry your sister, even with your weak attempts at saying ‘everything is fine’. Because it’s not fine. She’s not an idiot, Sky, she knows something is wrong with you.

So imagine, being brushed off and kept in the dark. But the moment she decides to do something for herself, and she takes up the training she’s been dreaming of, her dear distant big brother suddenly explodes and makes some extreme and exaggerated claims about her own family. “Why is he talking about this now? What took him so long? Why is he making such awful accusations?” Can you imagine what that’d look like?

Sky: -slowly shakes head- I...no, that’s-

Lightning: Summer FINALLY gets to have her mom’s undivided attention, and she’s happy and getting what she needs to achieve her little dream. And you want to take that away without a second of hesitation, Sky? I mean, what will you really gain from throwing all of your drama into her face? Her losing her spark and being filled with bitter hatred like you? Her appreciation? You really want to force that sweet little girl to choose sides and destroy her happy family and dream for that? Even I didn’t think you could be that selfish. But in that case...wouldn’t you be the one hurting her the most?

Sky: -feels a violent tremor go through him, his thoughts crashing and jumbling together- No, s-stop-

Lightning: You’ve seen her Sky! I’ve been taking care of her just fine and she’s never been more excited! So if you’re going to keep playing your stubborn game of teenage rebellion, then leave your poor sister out of it. She might fall for your little tantrum at first, but once she realizes how dramatic and miserable you really are? It won’t take her long to realize you’re not worth breaking our family apart over. If not that, then well, you’ll be forcing a little girl to carry your burdens. Who knows if she’ll forgive you for destroying her joyful world.

-Sky goes silent, and with satisfaction, Lightning can see that his gaze is unfocused and his shoulders are trembling, as if his very thoughts are consuming him-

Lightning: -casually shrugs, turning her back to him- But you can go ahead and try if you want, Sky. I’m just not sure if losing her love and respect is that worth it. So why not just let her be happy? After all...she’s just a kid.

Sky: -with rigid legs and a racing mind, he feels denial and fear wash over him- You’re wrong. You’re. Wrong.

-Sky turns away and rushes up the steps. He doesn’t want to think about Lightning’s words. He doesn’t want to see any truth in the cruel nonsense she has spouted. But despite his denial, a seed of doubt has rooted itself within his mind. And with full awareness of the effectiveness of her words on her weak-willed son, Lightning simply releases a sigh of relief.

As long as she plays things right, that ungracious colt could never ruin her and Summer’s goal. And she certainly was not going to forget what he did, disrespecting her and throwing away years of her effort. Whether he chooses to get in her way or not doesn’t matter. He’s going to ultimately feel the consequences. She’d make sure of it.-

The description of this one is long, but consider it an extension to the previous piece “Rift”, which you can refer back to. This story takes place a year or two before Rift, when Summer first started her training with Lightning.

Lightning’s words overtook Sky’s mind and emotions, filling him with paranoia and confusion. As expected from someone going through emotional abuse, he began to question if he really was overreacting. Maybe he was just weaker than his sister. But one glance at his mom’s smug face and her sugar-coated words towards Summer, along with her not-so-subtle attempts at drawing Summer away from Sky’s “influence” every chance she could, reminded him that no; his mom was just as manipulative and ambitious as he knew. He could see through her act. She didn’t care about bonding or letting Summer reach her own goals. No, she wanted to make sure she had a pupil to live out her old Wonderbolt dream. And she wanted her failed ex-pupil to feel her grudge.

Sky was aware of the image Lightning was painting of him - of being some bitter hate-filled rebellious teenager - whenever she was with Summer. And with every argument she and Dumbbell instigated, and every outburst he had in response, he only proved her right in their eyes.

And so, Sky felt so powerless.

He became a mixed bag of pent up frustration and depression and fear. Fear of Lightning’s predictions coming true, if he even dared to mention the truth to Summer. Over and over, he questioned if his sister would be okay, or if he would be ruining her happiness. That is, if he wasn’t already ruining it by being her “troublemaker” of an older brother. And so, all Sky could do as he struggled with his inner turmoil was keep his distance. Not that he had much of a choice, with Lightning keeping Summer away from him.

Sky felt utterly alone. He thought leaving his training would free him, but instead, he was trapped in a loop of arguments and ostracization, a loop of indecisiveness and isolation that kept him away from the one pony who meant the most to him; A punishment Lightning knowingly created to make him pay for wronging her.

Yes, he was trapped. That is...until the day of his disownment.

#Destinyverse #Lightning Dust #my little pony #Skychaser #mlp art #mlp #mlp oc #story

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pengychan · 6 years

Text

[Coco] Mind the Gap, Pt. 2

Title: Mind the Gap Summary: Modern Day AU. Tired of Ernesto’s snide remarks, Imelda decides to put him in his place and her husband is more than happy to help. It was supposed to be a one-night deal. Things quickly get out of hand. [OT3, mostly porn and humor. Plenty of instances of Ernesto being Dramatic, Imelda getting Sick Of His Shit, and Héctor trying to be the peacekeeper. Don’t expect anything serious.] Pairings: Ernesto/Héctor/Imelda Rating: Explicit.

To see the version with art by Dara, check it out on Ao3.

Tag for all parts up so far.

A/N: this was supposed to have a point, but it mostly turned into an explanation as to how they ended up all in the same bed in the first chapter. Plus more porn.

But really did any of you expect anything different.

***

Imelda wakes up first.

It is one of the unchanging facts of their married life. Héctor falls asleep first, sleeps like the dead, wraps his limbs around her like a boa constrictor at some point through the night and hardly, if ever, awakens before her. That morning is not an exception.

Imelda rises on one elbow - Héctor stirs, but only barely, when his arm slips off her - and gazes down at her husband with a smile. They haven’t bothered to pull the sheets over themselves, because the night has been much too warm, and she’s treated to the very pleasant sight of his lean body against hers. She runs a hand over his side, smiling a little when he shivers and sighs, until it rests against his cheek.

Under the mop of unruly hair, Héctor’s sleeping face couldn’t look more serene. She’s always liked how long his eyelashes are, although she rarely mentions it; last time she did Héctor started batting them ridiculously often whenever he decided she was being too serious over something, like picking the flowers for their wedding, and on a couple of occasions she laughed so hard she almost thought she would never be able to breathe again. But now he’s asleep, and she can admire them at her heart’s conten--

A slight snorting sound snaps her from her thoughts, and the smile forming on her lips fades; still sleepy and in Héctor’s arms, she forgot they are not alone on the bed. Imelda tears her gaze from Héctor’s face and raises an eyebrow towards Ernesto, ready to throw in a few sharp words, but there is no need to: he’s still asleep on the other side of the bed, a gap between him and Héctor.

He’s on his stomach, head resting in the crook of his arm, that stupid hair he always keeps checking in every available mirror tousled, the sheets bunched around his ankles. His back rises and falls regularly with his breathing, and Imelda’s eyes go to the marks she’s clawed across it, to the faint bruises on his shoulders Héctor’s grip caused and the more marked ones she’s left on his hips.

Overall, she finds the sight… satisfying, for the lack of a better word. Worth the annoyance of his presence, because she got the satisfaction of knowing she has won.

She planned nothing of what happened that night, of course; had anyone told her the previous afternoon that she’d awaken the next morning with her husband’s insufferable friend with them on the bed, she would have laughed. She can hardly bear having him in her home - and he is always in her home, as though he doesn’t have his own apartment at the ground floor of the same building. He’s always around Héctor, behaving all the world like she’s just there to pick up the dirty glasses and dishes they leave around.

Héctor is usually the one to clean up any mess and say that Ernesto means nothing by it, of course; Ernesto is just like that, hardly bothers to pick up after himself, “you should see what his place looks like!”

Imelda has precisely no intention to set foot in his apartment and find out what it looks like. Unlike Héctor, who seems in blissful denial, she can see the truth exactly how it is: Ernesto resents her, and is trying to get on her nerves because it’s about all he can do.

It wasn’t always the case: back when they were all children in Santa Cecilia, when the boys were inseparable almost from the crib and she was only a girl who hung with them from time to time, he hadn’t minded her. They butted heads sometimes - he’d downright pouted when she’d beaten him at skipping stones - but overall, they got on reasonably well; never quite friends, but good enough acquaintances.

When they had moved to Mexico City to pursue their musical career she’d missed Héctor from time to time, but rarely thought of Ernesto. And then, when she moved to Mexico City as well a couple of years later and they ran into each other, it soon became clear that things had changed; it was as though, in that short time, the boy Héctor was had grown into a man. He was still the person she’d known, and yet so different. They’d talked over drinks, laughed, talked some more; for a time both had forgotten that Ernesto sat at their same table.

She had known right away that Ernesto wasn’t especially pleased with the direction things were taking; in their childhood days, she’d been the third wheel… but suddenly it was him, and Ernesto really hates it when something isn’t about him.

Maybe he could have coped with it, had it been a one-time thing, but as things changed - as she and Héctor met again and again without him in the picture, as it progressed to dating and engagement and finally marriage, putting an end to their days as two carefree bachelors - Imelda could tell he was growing more and more frustrated; she could tell that his cutting remarks were not jokes at all and she knew, although Héctor never told her anything about it, that he had tried to talk his friend out of getting married. Unsuccessfully.

When their wedding day had come Ernesto had been impeccable, all laughs and smiles and pats in the back in his role as Héctor’s best man… but Imelda could tell he was playing a part. She could see the frustration behind that smile, the anger and maybe - that was something she’d wondered about once or twice - downright jealousy.

His best man speech had been hardy anything noteworthy - no wonder Héctor was the songwriter between the two of them - and she had known that, beyond the light-hearted jokes about his best friend getting ‘tied down’, there was something much deeper: a resentment that had been growing for the past months and years and that Ernesto knows better than to spell out clearly.

He knows that if he ever does, Héctor will take her side. He knows that if he’s ever forced to choose, he’ll choose her. Ernesto has lost a competition she’s never wanted or agreed to, and he hates it.

That knowledge, and the no small amount of smugness she gets out of it, is usually what keeps her from snapping. She knows that Héctor doesn’t want to be forced to choose and that losing his best friend would hurt, so she ignores the remarks behind his jokes. They’re nothing but a pathetic attempt at lashing out at her, not worth a thought.

But of course, in the end she reached the boiling point. Last night’s boasting about his conquests - like men and women who fall for his dubious charm are nothing but that to Ernesto, to be used and discarded the next morning - angered her; his snide remark on how Héctor probably should count himself lucky if he got a kiss those days made her furious. So she marched in the bedroom, grabbed their strap-on and threw it before Ernesto, with no small satisfaction when he choked a little on his drink.

Lucky to get a kiss, huh? You wish you had what he has, pendejo. You wish.

She threw the challenge in his face with a sort of savage triumph and hardly any thought at all, fully expecting him to get up, mumble an excuse, and leave with his tail between his legs - possibly embarrassed enough to never show at their door again, if she was lucky.

She didn’t expect him to stay. Didn’t expect him to look at Héctor, look at her, and take that challenge. But he did and she could have called it off… except that she would have never lived it down if she did and gave Ernesto a reason to get smug. Except that she’d looked at Héctor’s face and the desire on his features was all that it took to decide.

She’d thrown the challenge, she’d seen it through, and she’d come out on top in more ways the one; the way Ernesto had come undone beneath her had been very satisfying.

Which reminds her, he took that dildo far more readily and easily than she expected; maybe Héctor was especially good at getting him ready, but she suspects Mr. Manly is not, after all, always the one on top as he likes to claim. And the eagerness when he took Héctor in his mouth… how long has he wanted to do that?

Well, that is one thing I can’t blame him for.

The thought makes Imelda smirk, and she turns away from Ernesto’s sleeping form to look back at Héctor. She leans down, hand slipping down to his groin, her mouth pressing against his temple. When he awakens with a startled mumble, Imelda nibbles at his earlobe and shushes him.

“Ssssh… quiet. Come shower with me.”

He does, grinning sleepily at her. For a moment as he sits up he seems startled to see Ernesto sleeping on the other side of the bed - Imelda can see his face and ears especially turning crimson as he remembers what happened the previous night - but he just nods at her, and slides silently off the bed and out of the room with her, towards the bathroom.

Nothing’s better than a nice shower to start the day right.

***

When they bought the apartment - with some help from Imelda’s family, truth be told - both of them had agreed on three very important things: there would be a room she could use as a workshop to make shoes she then sold online, one spare room they could turn into a nursery one day, and a very large shower in the bathroom.

Right now - pressing Imelda against him, water rushing over them and hair in his eyes, trying to get a good grip on her soapy skin while she squirms and laughs - Héctor is inclined to think that the latter was the best idea of them all.

“Careful not to slip,” Imelda chides him when they tumble through the stream of water and against the tiles, her laughter echoing in his ears. Héctor manages to get a hold of her and hold her tight, her back against his chest. He presses a kiss against her neck, spits out a mouthful of wet hair, and she laughs again. “Maybe I should cut it,” she muses aloud.

“No, don’t,” Héctor murmurs against her shoulder. He’s sure Imelda would look divine even with a dead fish on her head, but he loves her hair - the thick braid she usually wears, the loose curls he can run his fingers through when they’re down, the tight bun she ties it in when there is some serious work to do and she needs to focus. “I’d hate to see it go.”

One of his hands reaches to palm Imelda’s breasts, the other slips down her soapy stomach and to her sex, and she’s not laughing anymore. She leans back against him with a pleased hum, rests her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes. One hand clutches at his arm; the other reaches back to grasp Héctor’s hair, and he groans just a little. His fingers slip in her easily, she’s already so wet and he’s growing hard, pressing against the slick skin of her lower back. There is little friction, but it is enough to make him shiver.

“Did you take your guitar in the shower, or…?” Imelda mutters, and Héctor laughs again into her hair. He curls his fingers, making her moan and feeling more than a little lightheaded. There is nothing he doesn’t love about this, nothing he doesn’t love about her.

“You were amazing last night,” he mumbles, pressing his thumb against her clit, shifting his hips to get some friction against slick skin. He smiles. “He never stood a chance.”

“Of course not,” Imelda says, gasping, hand clenching tighter on his hair. He can almost hear the smirk in her voice. “It was about time I shut him up. Though it was mostly you to take care of that part,” she adds, and bucks her hips to get his fingers deeper in her just as Héctor kneads her nipple with a thumb and lets out a chuckle.

“Hadn’t really planned to do that,” Héctor breathes, blushing a little. He’s already achingly hard against her wet skin and the memory of how his cock just disappeared in Ernesto’s mouth - the stretch of his lips over the base, the heat of it - is not helping matters. “I was going to just watch.”

“Like he was going to let that happen. I knew he’d seize his chance to get a piece of you,” Imelda says, and gasps when he twists his fingers, tossing her head back. “I-- ay, yes, like that, do it again - I told you he would, if given the chance. He must have wanted you for years. One thing we can agree on.”

“I never realized,” Héctor mumbles, and it is true. He’s known for a long time that Ernesto’s sexuality can be summed up with ‘yes’, but he had never thought it could possibly include him until Imelda had pointed it out to him as though it was something obvious. Looking back, he probably should have realized the remarks towards his wife weren’t just friendly banter.

“Oh, Héctor. I love you, but you can be so unobservant,” Imelda sighs now, leaning back against him, and Héctor can almost see her rolling her eyes. The hand on his arm lets go to reach back, and she squeezes his cock gently, stroking him in a way that matches the movement of his fingers in her. Her thumb brushes over the tip just as his own presses over her clit, and he moans. Imelda’s chuckle makes her tremble against him.

“Want to see who can make the other come first?” she asks, her voice a bit hoarse. She tilts her head back, places a kiss on his jaw. “The loser checks on that idiota.”

Héctor smiles, and takes the challenge knowing full well he won’t win. Unlike Ernesto, he doesn’t mind losing.

Victory is nice but Imelda can make defeat taste very, very sweet, too.

***

He wakes up to stinging back, a sore ass, and a raw throat.

And to laughter, too. Imelda’s laughter, a few rooms over, immediately followed by Héctor’s as well. Sounds like they’re having a great time. Good for them, Ernesto thinks sarcastically, holding back a groan as he rolls on his back.

Jesus Christ, it feels like he’s been ran over by a truck. Everything is sore and there is no way he can hide that; he’s not even sure he can walk normally. Imelda will notice for sure, and be insufferable about it. Maybe he should try to get dressed as quickly as he can and make a dash for the door. If he makes it out of there before she notices him--

“Oh, you’re up! Well. Awake, at least.”

Too late. Ernesto turns to the door to see Héctor standing in the doorway, wearing a shirt and shorts, hair damp and looking pretty damn pleased. Which he should be, really, given the blowjob Ernesto treated him to. His throat definitely feels that now - no singing for a couple of days for him - so he better be grateful for it, Ernesto thinks, purposefully keeping himself from glancing towards Héctor’s groin. He just lets out a grunt and lets his head drop back.

“We’re going to make breakfast. Well, almost lunch at this point, but still. Food,” Héctor speaks again, walking up to the bed. Somewhere in the back of his mind Ernesto is vaguely aware of being naked, but what does it matter now? It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, having grown up together, and now he’s also seen him on his hands and knees, taking him down his throat while his wife fucked him raw with a strap-on.

He suspects they’re slightly past the point where modesty means anything.

“Will get there,” he says hoarsely. “In a minute.”

Héctor quirks an eyebrow. “Sore throat? Caught a cold, amigo? Need a scarf?”

“Chingate.”

“Imelda did. In the shower,” Héctor quips, gaining himself a glare than turns into surprise when he sits at the edge of the bed, pulling something out of the pocket of his shorts - some kind of ointment. “I assume it’s not just your throat.”

It is not, in fact, just his throat - but he’s not about to admit as much. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“As if. I’ve been on the receiving end of what thing too, amigo,” Héctor points out with a shrug, nodding towards the discarded strap-on on the floor. The mental image very nearly causes Ernesto's breath to catch in his throat.

“Ah,” he says, and Héctor laughs, lifting up the tube in his hand.

“I find this helps a lot. At least give it a try,” he says, and Ernesto sighs. May as well, the thinks, and he holds out his hand for the ointment - but instead of handing it to him, Héctor tilts his head on one side. “Need help to put it on?” he asks innocently.

Except that he’s not being innocent at all; through his stunned surprise Ernesto can see it in the glint in his eyes, in the faintest trace of a smile beginning to curl his lips.

Absolutely not, Ernesto wants to say, but he does not. His eyes flicker to the ointment and on the hand holding it, on those long fingers that can coax melodies from of of any out-of-tune guitar and that, just last night-- the thought of having his fingers in him again--

His face seems to catch fire, and Ernesto lets his head drop back on the pillow, staring at a spot on the ceiling, a small crack in the white paint. This would be the moment to refuse, but he finds he doesn’t want to. “... If you must,” he rasps.

Please, he thinks.

There is a chuckle, but it doesn’t feel like he’s being mocked and that helps. Héctor’s finger pokes his side and he turns on his stomach, knees bent and legs spread, biting back a groan when his back protests. It makes him feel so exposed it’s almost terrifying, but then Héctor’s hand is rubbing his back in slow strokes, fingers gently tracing the marks Imelda’s nails must have left on it, and Ernesto buries his face in the crook of his arm.

“You’re tense, amigo. You should relax,” Héctor says casually, and Ernesto hears the sound of a bottle being opened, of something being squeezed out of it. He feels the heel of a hand rest against his ass; the other hand is still on his back. “Gonna feel a bit cold at first.”

It does feel cold, and Ernesto bites back a hiss when Héctor’s finger, coated in ointment, presses lightly against him. Héctor doesn’t try to push in and just rubs the lotion in small, circular movements. It is soothing, yes, but most of all it makes blood rush to Ernesto’s groin and he’s suddenly very, very happy that he’s turned on his stomach. Maybe, if he plays it cool, Héctor won’t even notice and… is he humming now? Really?

“What are you--” Ernesto starts, his voice faltering and face on fire, but trails off with a gasp when Héctor presses a finger in him and leans over his back to talk closer to his ear.

“Relax,” he repeats, and he probably should, but he’s making it so damn difficult. His ass is sore but the ointment is soothing, Héctor’s movements are slow and thorough, and he wishes he’d be less gentle, he wishes he’d just fuck him, press him down and make him take it like Imelda did. He wouldn’t mind the soreness, then… not too much, anyway.

He’s had worse. He’s bled. When he was still in his teens, figuring everything out and terrified of being caught - people in the spit of a town they were born in talked and talked; even when he went out of town he feared being spotted, feared he'd return home to his parents sitting in the living room, waiting, knowing - quickies in back alleys or cars were the norm. It was fast, sometimes almost brutal, often with far too little preparation. It left him hurting more than it sated him, but he’d told no one that, not even Héctor. He’d been too ashamed and Héctor too young, then; the four years between them had felt like a chasm.

Things are different now: Mexico City is different, the crowd he hangs with is different, and he has long since learned to take what he wants without shame. Most of the time, at least; he’ll curl up into a hole and die before telling Héctor what he wants, especially with Imelda within earshot. So he clenches his teeth, tries to relax and ignore the heat in his groin.

He struggles to keep his breathing even and he can manage… until Héctor shifts forward to place a kiss on his bruised shoulder and his finger curls, pressing down against his prostate. That tears a moan out of his throat, his hips rock back, and words tumble out of his mouth with no thought at all.

“Ay, Héctor, por favor, por favor--!” he chokes out against his arm. He feels Héctor smile against his skin, feels his free hand petting his hair.

“It’s all right,” he’s saying lightly, like they’re having a chat over a glass of tequila, like his finger is not pressing against his prostate and massaging it in small circular movements, like Ernesto is not hard and leaking in the sheets of his and Imelda’s bed. He doesn’t even feel the soreness anymore. “Let me help you out. Amigos help their amigos.”

This is not how amigos usually help each other, Ernesto thinks, and lets out noise that is both a laugh and a moan. It is hard to think, it is hard to breathe, and in the end he just surrenders. Not in a million years he would have thought this could happen - Héctor, he’d thought, was someone he could never have; he’s his best friend, would never look at him that way, is married - but it is happening and oh God, he doesn’t want him to stop.

Héctor is murmuring something, but he’s rubbing harder against his prostate and even if he could understand a single word Ernesto still would say nothing: his mind fails to form a single coherent thought, let along to come up with an answer. He just moans, arches his aching back, and opens his eyes.

And sees Imelda.

She’s not really in front of him: he’s looking at her reflection in the full-length mirror along with his own, skin flushed and hair tousled and mouth open. She’s at the door, leaning against the doorway and wearing a bathrobe, the very picture of composure as she watches her husband turn him into a trembling mess.

And she’s smirking, that that smirk he hates, still damp hair sticking to her cheeks.

Ernesto wants to say something scathing, but he thinks back of how her hair stuck to her face and neck the previous night too, of her grip on his hips and her breasts pressing against his back, of that one moment he understood why Héctor chose her, and his mind draws a blank. Only a whine leaves his mouth, and it turns into a moan when Héctor rubs harder against just the right spot, when her eyes find his through the mirror and their gazes hold.

Her smirk turns into a knowing smile, Héctor’s finger twists inside him, and that’s it. He comes with a long, drawn-out moan, burying his face in the pillow between his clenched fists. Héctor doesn’t stop massaging his prostate until it has passed, until he’s too spent to even move, too tender and overstimulated to withstand it. He lets out a whine that is almost a sob, and Héctor understands; his finger pulls out of him, still slick with the soothing ointment.

For a few moments Ernesto just pants, face buried into the pillow, thinking of nothing. There is a touch on his head, and Héctor is petting his hair.

“Better?” he asks. Ernesto jerks his head in a nod, still gasping for breath. There’s a chuckle, a kiss against his temple.

“Told you that stuff is good. There’s still enough hot water for a shower, if you’re quick about it. We’ll wait for you for breakfast,” Héctor says, then his hand leaves Ernesto’s hair and hears him getting off the bed. Ernesto turns to see him pause at the door, glance back at him over his shoulder, and grin. “You see, married life isn’t that boring. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re having trouble keeping up,” he says, and laughs at Ernesto’s glare.

As he leaves the room, Ernesto lets his head drop back down and realizes, belatedly, that Imelda is no longer there either; she must have left right after he came, probably with that insufferably smug smirk still on her face, the same he’s sure he’ll find himself facing in a matter of minutes.

She hasn’t said a word but, to his chagrin, Ernesto knows she doesn’t need to; they both know she has won.

This time.

***

[Back to Part 1]

[On to Part 3]

#pixar coco #hector rivera #ernesto de la cruz #imelda rivera #coco #mind the gap

32 notes · View notes

chalantness · 6 years

Note

Sorry just really need batcat in my life 16,17,32,35,49,63 also you don’t have to do all of them just I low key like those myself

“chosen randomly! batcat, 19, 32, 49, 53, 99, 110, 167. choose whatever you want to include :)” requested by an anon

“101,102,105,109,110 Only if you want to tbh and for batcat” requested by another anon

16. BDSM + 17. Begging or offering + 19. Biting + 32. Coming in or on one’s partner + 99. Messiness and markers of arousal + 102. Multiple orgasms + 105. Neck fetishization + 109. Orgasm denial + 110. Pampering (kink meme)

also inspired by this photo

“Fucking sadist.”

Her voice comes out in a harsh breath, tapering off into a soft moan as her eyelashes flutter closed. She hears him chuckle, his fingers not so much as pausing over the keyboard as he continues typing, and another shiver rolls down her spine. The soft buzz of the vibe is still unrelenting where he’d slipped it against her sex, just underneath her little bundle of nerves and held in place by her lace panties. Her shoulders are starting to feel sore from being held up and tied to the headboard, but every other part of her feels like liquid, having never quite recovered from the three times she’d come in the last half hour.

“Sadists take pleasure in other’s pain,” he replies, and she sucks in a breath as he notches up the vibrations. “I’m taking pleasure in your pleasure.”

She would scoff at that, but she can’t quite think with the pleasure coiling tightly at the base of her spine, making everything feel hazy. He’d been quick with her first orgasm, his tongue working her in long, firm strokes as he dragged out her high; and she’d barely begun to shudder under the tremors of it when he had pulled the vibe out of his pocket, lips twitching into a smirk as he switched it on and slipped it into her panties. Her second orgasm had come shortly after, the vibrations against her clit making her body write on the mattress, pushing her over that dizzying edge again.

Then he’d gotten up and walked across their hotel suite to the desk, switching on his laptop and lowering the vibe down to a dull buzz against her clit as she caught her breath. He’s been working ever since, almost ignoring her entirely except to toy with the settings of that damn vibe whenever she’d tried to taunt him into coming back to bed. Her body is slick with sweat, humming and flushed with her arousal as the steady vibrations start to push her toward that blissful high once more. She knows better than to expect it, though. He’s let her come once more when he’d gotten up to pour himself a drink, but otherwise he’s kept her on edge for the last half hour, building up her pleasure only to yank it out from underneath her every damn time.

It’s tormenting and so fucking frustrating. and she shouldn’t like it as much as she does.

But she does. She loves it.

She loves how her mind whites out from the pleasure, loves the way her body melts into the sensations. She can’t think of anything - not a single thing - when he takes over, and she needs that. She knows she can balance and adapt and she’s fine with that; she’s lived off of it her whole damn life. But sometimes she just needs to let go, needs to turn it all off and not have so many damn things to have to think about.

And she certainly can’t at this moment. Not when all she can focus on are the unrelenting vibrations against her clit and the pressure coiling at the base of her spine. A shiver rolls down her spine, her body arching off of the mattress–

Then he switches it off, pulling a whimper from her lips as her body is halted right on the edge of her orgasm. She exhales a breath as she slumps back onto the bed, her body tingling, humming, and she hears him close his laptop with a soft click. His footsteps are muted against the carpet as he crosses the distance between them, and her eyelashes flutter open when she feels the bed dip with the weight of him. She knows that she must look like a mess - her skin sweaty, making her rumpled lingerie stick to her, and her hair mussed from her head rolling over the pillows - but his gaze is nothing but pure arousal, pure adoration, as it slides down the curve of her body.

“How kind of you to finally join me, Mr. Wayne,” she says, sliding her foot into his lap, drawing a low groan from the back of his throat when she rubs against the hard front of his slacks. “You certainly know how to keep a girl waiting.”

He snatches her ankle with his hands, lifting her leg up before she can rub against him again. “I had work to finish,” he says simply, bending her knee a little before spreading her legs, and she sucks in a breath when she feels the vibe move against her folds with the motion, trapped right against her clit. His lips twitch at the corners as he pulls a hand off of her, and she bites on the inside of her lip, her stomach fluttering at the thought of him reaching for the remote in his blazer pocket to switch the vibe back on.

“Bruce.” Her voice is thin and tight, her body vibrating with pleasure, still teetering right on that edge. “No more teasing.”

He pauses, his eyes swirling, darkening, and his throat flexes when he swallows. He leans over her, pressing his face into the curve of her neck, and she lets out this little noise when his lips find her pulse and nip once, twice, three times, and then licks at the indents he’d left in her skin. “Say please first,” he murmurs, tracing the tip of his nose along the column of her throat.

She very nearly laughs. “Please go fuck yourself.”

He chuckles, nips at her again, and she knows she’ll have to cover up those marks in the morning and pretend to hate it, even if they both know better.

“Close enough.” He draws away, slides his hands over her hips and hooks his fingers under the waistband of his panties, dragging them down. She watches as he pulls them off from around her ankles, watches his eyes glint as he tucks them into the pocket of his blazer, and then he’s reaching between her legs and pulling the vibe away, tossing it aside on the mattress.

She’d laugh, except her breath gets caught in her throat as he stands to undo the buckle of his belt, and she licks her lips when he pulls his length free. He’s hard, and dripping, and her heart skips, her arousal fluttering and coiling at the base of her spine. She tugs at the tie he’d wrapped around her wrists, wanting to reach for him, to touch him, and his expression softens at the edges as he climbs over her and braces himself on an elbow. He pushes his face into her neck against, breathing her in, pressing his length against her oversensitive folds, and a shudder rolls down her spine at the contact.

“I could barely concentrate on my emails, you know.” He finds the spot on the nape of her neck that drives her crazy, that he loves to kiss, to suckle, to bite, and lets his breath tease over it. “Not with all those little sounds you made.”

He presses right at her entrance and her sex flutters, aching. She has a retort on the tip of her tongue, but she can’t quite find her voice right now.

He groans as he pushes into her, and she sucks in a gasp, her spine arching off of the bed. She’s so, so sensitive, her body trembling, vibrating with want. His grip tightens on her hips, his fingers digging in - not enough to really hurt but certainly enough for her to draw a sharp cry from her lips - as he draws their bodies flushed together, bottoming out. His exhales sharply into the curve of her neck, drawing back out and pushing back in, and her eyelashes flutter closed as he quickly starts to build a rhythm.

“I’m not going to last, love.” He skims his lips up, kissing the corner of her parted lips. “You’ve been driving me crazy for an hour. You’ve been driving me crazy all day, when you showed up in my room, wearing this.” He slides a hand down her thigh, tugging at the garter straps of her lingerie. “Little minx.”

She breathes out a laugh, which tapers off into a moan when he hooks a hand under the bend of her knee and drapes it over his shoulder, thrusting in even deeper, faster, finding that sweet spot that makes her vision blur.

Then his hand slides between them, finding her clit, and she whimpers as her body jolts at the touch.

“I know, I know,” he murmurs, his voice gentle, soothing, even as his thumb lightly circles over her bundle of nerves and makes her mind spin, makes her entire body shiver. He kisses her lips once, twice, three times, and then brushes a kiss to her flushed cheek before whispering, “But I want you to come with me.”

She swallows, hard, blinking her eyes open to meet his gaze. His eyes are hazy and storming, her need reflected in his stare, and she feels her chest squeeze. She wonders if she’ll ever get used to the way he looks at her - as if everything has fallen into place; as if everything has led to this moment, to her - thought part of her hopes that she doesn’t. That she’ll always feel this overwhelmed by him, this adored by him. She’s never felt something quite so vulnerable before.

(She’s never felt something quite so loving before.)

The wisps of her orgasm are coiling around her, starting to pull her under, to pull her apart at the seams, and she knows that Bruce can tell. He nips at the nape of her neck and she whimpers, her walls fluttering, tightening - and then she feels everything dissolve in a burst of white-hot pleasure as her orgasm washes over her.

He groans, his thrusts erratic, almost bruising, until his muscles are tightening and his body is tensing above her. His orgasm follows on the heels of hers, his warmth spilling into her as he continues to roll his hips, their bodies trembling and tightening around each other as they ride out their highs.

His lips press against hers, gentle, almost tentative, and she parts them as his tongue laps at the seam of her lips. She winds her arms around his neck and draws him close, closer, tightening around him as the tremors of her orgasm roll over her. She’s not quite sure how long it takes for her to start to float back down - seconds, minutes - but eventually, she feels Bruce draw back, winding an arm around her and pulling her to his chest. She mewls as he shifts inside of her, drawing her onto his lap, and his large, calloused hand smooths down her spine and settles at the small of her back.

“Don’t bite my head off for asking this,” he starts to say, his voice gravelly and breathy, “but that wasn’t too much for you, was it?”

She hums and shakes her head, pressing her lips to the line of his jaw.

“Never.” She leans back, just enough to catch his gaze. He smiles at her - soft and bright - and she falls a little bit more in love, if possible. “It was perfect.”

#batcat #bruce wayne #selina kyle #chanty writes #chanty's smut #anon #kink meme

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agentnico · 2 years

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Don’t Look Up (2021) Review

You may not look up, but definitely look down, or you might end up tripping and hurting yourself really badly. And I couldn’t allow that to happen. So look after yourselves.

Plot: Two low-level astronomers must go on a giant media tour to warn mankind of an approaching comet that will destroy planet Earth.

So I find myself in a position where it is difficult to review a film like this. For depending on your positive or negative opinion of it, you are immediately grouped with either the people willing to look up, in other words those who are ready to be made aware of problems surrounding mankind and the wellbeing of our home planet, or you are margined with those who ‘don’t look up’, those who choose to live out their lives in ignorant bliss or be aware of the problem but either do nothing about it or take personal gain from it. Evening White House!

But here’s the thing, after seeing this movie, I very much appreciate the central metaphor the movie is going for, emphasising the issues with climate change (no wonder DiCaprio signed up for this!) and world governments thinking more about their wallets rather than the goodness of their population. It’s a solid and powerful message that needs to be put out there. However I also have to say that I don’t think Don’t Look Up is a good movie. The film aptly captures the apathy, indifference & collective denial of the populace in the face of an unmitigated disaster waiting to happen in the near-future and yet in true McKay fashion, it's way more interested in letting its A-list celebrities put on a freak-show for the viewers' amusement, not to mention that it is a tonal mess that's all over the place. Cause the movie, let’s face it, is boring. Again, I don’t want to say that the central message is boring, in fact it is very important to talk about it and should be heavily put into conversation. But the movie is a dud, relying on its own message to do it’s creative job for it, and relying on the inclusion of big Hollywood stars to keep the attention of the audience.

Fleeting roles from the likes of Timothee Chalamet, Tyler Perry, Cate Blanchett and Chris Evans are so inconsequential and are very much there so one can go “oh, look, I know that person!!”, and Ariana Grande pops in to sing a song about needing to look up, however the entire gag of the song is that she swears throughout it cause she is so hip. Leonardo DiCaprio to be fair is actually really good, however saying that DiCaprio is good in a movie these days is like whacking yourself on the head with a pan and stating it hurts. It helps that the actor is passionate about the subject matter anyway, and he even has the big Oscar-friendly moment of screaming out a monologue on how humanity is screwed. Me and my fiancée both watched that moment, and though we felt a bit intimidated by Mr DiCaprio telling the class off, we were just there like “yup, Leo’s going for that second Oscar”. Jennifer Lawrence I don’t see as a good actress as is, and I do feel like she overacts her role here, even though her character is actually supposed to be more grounded. Meryl Streep relishes playing a Trump-esque US President even though I kinda wish McKay missed a trick by not casting real life Donald Trump. Honestly, not gonna lie, the guy’s a madman, he probably would’ve done it! Jonah Hill seems to be one of the only ones aware he’s in a comedy, throwing around one-liners and insulting everyone left and right, and he’s actually quite funny in it. And Mark Rylance is worth mentioning as a Steve Jobs/Elon Musk type tech billionaire who’s overly confident in his progressive technological advances, and Rylance plays the role in a caricatured and amusingly creepy manner, with extra extra whitened teeth.

For a film marketed as a satire, the writing is nowhere as witty or clever as it should be, the jokes for the most part don’t land, and also the editing is atrocious. Ever since Adam McKay strayed away from his old school Will Ferrell comedies and turned towards making dramas, he made some quality stuff however he’s had this constant issue of editing his films with having random cut away’s to doing close-ups onto random objects or zooming into an actor’s side or ankle with no meaning. It’s as if he is trying to be experimental but there is no purpose for it. Sorry McKay, you’re no David Lynch, so give it up scholar boy! This editing technique of his is on full display in Don’t Look Up again and it’s quite jarring once more. The movie is unfocused and all over the place, and lacks the urgency to deliver its message in a powerful and meaningful way. I respect the effort, but it wasn’t my cup of tea. If you want a more enjoyable end of the world film, I may recommend Seeking a Friend for the End of the World, much more emotional and featuring stellar turns from Steve Carell and Keira Knightley.

Overall score: 4/10

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dfroza · 5 years

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are you in awe of the wonders of the heavens and garden earth?

(the instrumental womb of the universe where seeds grow just as the True nature of the heart and its seeds, to be...)

how did they come to be? the planets and stars didn’t form themselves because they were intentionally created.

to not “believe...” is a denial of our beautiful mysterious Creator and is an act of pride, by ignoring God as revealed in the True illumination of the Son in whom is the defeat of the curse of death that plagues this old world.

A point of resurrection seen in Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the book of Mark in chapter 5:

Jairus’s Servants (to Jairus): Your daughter is dead. There’s no need to drag the Teacher any farther.

Jesus overheard their words. Then He turned to look at Jairus.

Jesus: It’s all right. Don’t be afraid; just believe.

Jesus asked everyone but Peter, James, and John (James’s brother) to remain outside when they reached Jairus’s home. Inside the synagogue leader’s house, the mourning had already begun; the weeping and wailing carried out into the street.

Jesus and His three disciples went inside.

Jesus: Why are you making all this sorrowful noise? The child isn’t dead. She’s just sleeping.

The mourners laughed a horrible, bitter laugh and went back to their wailing. Jesus cleared the house so that only His three disciples, Jairus, and Jairus’s wife were left inside with Him. They all went to where the child lay. Then He took the child’s hand.

Jesus: Little girl, it’s time to wake up.

Immediately the 12-year-old girl opened her eyes, arose, and began to walk. Her parents could not believe their eyes.

The Book of Mark, Chapter 5:35-42 (The Voice)

to include inspiration and instruction from Today’s reading of the Psalms beginning with the Psalm 1 for the first of november:

[Psalm 1]

God’s blessings follow you and await you at every turn:

when you don’t follow the advice of those who delight in wicked schemes,

When you avoid sin’s highway,

when judgment and sarcasm beckon you, but you refuse.

For you, the Eternal’s Word is your happiness.

It is your focus—from dusk to dawn.

You are like a tree,

planted by flowing, cool streams of water that never run dry.

Your fruit ripens in its time;

your leaves never fade or curl in the summer sun.

No matter what you do, you prosper.

For those who focus on sin, the story is different.

They are like the fallen husk of wheat, tossed by an open wind, left deserted and alone.

In the end, the wicked will fall in judgment;

the guilty will be separated from the innocent.

Their road suddenly will end in death,

yet the journey of the righteous has been charted by the Eternal.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 1 (The Voice)

and repeated in The Passion Translation:

Book 1

The Genesis Psalms

Psalms of man and creation

The Tree of Life

What delight comes to the one who follows God’s ways!

He won’t walk in step with the wicked,

nor share the sinner’s way,

nor be found sitting in the scorner’s seat.

His pleasure and passion is remaining true to the Word of “I Am,”

meditating day and night in the true revelation of light.

He will be standing firm like a flourishing tree

planted by God’s design,

deeply rooted by the brooks of bliss,

bearing fruit in every season of his life.

He is never dry, never fainting,

ever blessed, ever prosperous.

But how different are the wicked.

All they are is dust in the wind—

driven away to destruction!

The wicked will not endure the day of judgment,

for God will not defend them.

Nothing they do will succeed or endure for long,

for they have no part with those who walk in truth.

But how different it is for the righteous!

The Lord embraces their paths as they move forward

while the way of the wicked leads only to doom.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 1 (The Passion Translation)

and these lines of rebirth from The Message:

Instead you thrill to God’s Word,

you chew on Scripture day and night.

You’re a tree replanted in Eden,

bearing fresh fruit every month,

Never dropping a leaf,

always in blossom.

(verse 2 and 3)

continuing with Psalm 40:

For the worship leader. A song of David.

I waited a long time for the Eternal;

He finally knelt down to hear me.

He listened to my weak and whispered cry.

He reached down and drew me

from the deep, dark hole where I was stranded, mired in the muck and clay.

With a gentle hand, He pulled me out

To set me down safely on a warm rock;

He held me until I was steady enough to continue the journey again.

As if that were not enough,

because of Him my mind is clearing up.

Now I have a new song to sing—

a song of praise to the One who saved me.

Because of what He’s done, many people will see

and come to trust in the Eternal.

Surely those who trust the Eternal—

who don’t trust in proud, powerful people

Or in people who care little for reality, chasing false gods—

surely they are happy, as I have become.

You have done so many wonderful things,

had so many tender thoughts toward us, Eternal my God,

that go on and on, ever increasing.

Who can compare with You?

Sacrifices and offerings are not what You want,

but You’ve opened my ears, and now I understand.

Burnt offerings and sin offerings

are not what please You.

So I said, “See, I have come to do Your will,

as it is inscribed of me in the scroll.

I am pleased to live how You want, my God.

Your law is etched into my heart and my soul.”

I have encouraged Your people with the message of righteousness,

in Your great assembly (look and see),

I haven’t kept quiet about these things;

You know this, Eternal One.

I have not kept Your righteousness to myself, sealed up in the secret places of my heart;

instead, I boldly tell others how You save and how loyal You are.

I haven’t been shy to talk about Your love, nor have I been afraid to tell Your truth

before the great assembly of Your people.

Please, Eternal One, don’t hold back

Your kind ways from me.

I need Your strong love and truth

to stand watch over me and keep me from harm.

Right now I can’t see because I am surrounded by troubles;

my sins and shortcomings have caught up to me,

so I am swimming in darkness.

Like the hairs on my head, there are too many to count,

so my heart deserts me.

O Eternal One, please rescue me.

O Eternal One, hurry; I need Your help.

May those who are trying to destroy me

be humiliated and ashamed instead;

May those who want to ruin my reputation

be cut off and embarrassed.

May those who try to catch me off guard,

those who look at me and say, “Aha, we’ve trapped you,”

be caught in their own shame instead.

But may all who look for You

discover true joy and happiness in You;

May those who cherish how You save them

always say, “O Eternal One, You are great and are first in our hearts.”

Meanwhile, I am empty and need so much,

but I know the Lord is thinking of me.

You are my help; only You can save me, my True God.

Please hurry.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 40 (The Voice)

and with inspiration for writing seen in these lines from Psalm 40 in The Message:

So I answered, “I’m coming.

I read in your letter what you wrote about me,

And I’m coming to the party

you’re throwing for me.”

That’s when God’s Word entered my life,

became part of my very being.

(verse 7 and 8)

to continue with Psalm 5:

For the worship leader. A song of David accompanied by flutes.

Bend Your ear to me and listen to my words, O Eternal One;

hear the deep cry of my heart.

Listen to my call for help,

my King, my True God;

to You alone I pray.

In the morning, O Eternal One, listen for my voice;

in the day’s first light, I will offer my prayer to You and watch expectantly for Your answer.

You’re not a God who smiles at sin;

You cannot abide with evil.

The proud wither in Your presence;

You hate all who pervert and destroy what is good.

You destroy those with lying lips;

the Eternal detests those who murder and deceive.

Yet I, by Your loving grace,

am welcomed into Your house;

I will turn my face toward Your holy place

and fall on my knees in reverence before You.

O Eternal One, lead me in the path of Your righteousness

amidst those who wish me harm;

make Your way clear to me.

Their words cannot be trusted;

they are destructive to their cores.

What comes out of their mouths is as foul as a rotting corpse;

their words stink of flattery.

Find them guilty, O True God;

let their own devices bring them ruin.

Throw them out, and let them drown in the deluge of their sin,

for in revolt they brazenly spit in Your face.

But let those who run to You for safety be glad they did;

let them break out in joyful song.

May You keep them safe—

their love for You resounding in their hearts.

You, O Eternal, are the One who lays all good things in the laps of the right-hearted.

Your blessings surround them like a shield.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 5 (The Voice)

to be concluded by wisdom from the first chapter of Proverbs:

I, Solomon, David’s son and Israel’s king, pass on to you these proverbs—a treasury of wisdom—

So that you would recognize wisdom and value discipline;

that you would understand insightful teaching

And receive wise guidance to live a disciplined life;

that you would seek justice and have the ability to choose what is right and fair.

These proverbs teach the naive how to become clever;

they instruct the young in how to grow in knowledge and live with discretion.

The wise will pay attention to these words and will grow in learning,

and the discerning will receive divine guidance,

And they will be able to interpret the meaning of a proverb and a puzzle,

the twists and turns in the words of the wise and their riddles.

Let us begin. The worship of the Eternal One, the one True God, is the first step toward knowledge.

Fools, however, do not fear God and cannot stand wisdom or guidance.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 1:1-7 (The Voice)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for the first of november, the 40th day of Autumn and day 305 of the year:

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lunarkissedarchived-blog · 5 years

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about the mutants: powers.

here’s part two of my big posts about my muses and their powers! this time: the mutants. some of them are more aware of their powers than others, but they’ve all got a little something special about them.

alice, luck absorption

alice is, to this day, unaware of the fact that she possesses a power. she truly thinks she’s just exceptionally lucky. her power doesn’t drain an excessively noticeable amount of luck from those around her, so she’s never found any indication that she’s gifted in a way that her friends couldn’t possibly be.

allie, bliss & horror inducement

allie is frightened of her abilities, to say the least. she’s rarely experienced the bliss portion of them, rather only being able to induce horror on those around her ( often without prompting and without realization ). she keeps it in check as much as she possibly can, often to the detriment of her emotional state and, sometimes, her relationships with people around her in fear of harming them unintentionally.

anabelle, memory manipulation

anabelle hates her power. she’s never once felt it to be useful to her in any way. she feels wrong when she’s used it, even by accident. it’s rare that she even thinks about it now, having pushed it so far back in her mind in the hopes she’d be able to erase it from her life.

brynn, dream manipulation

brynn doesn’t try to use her power, it just sort of happens. she tries to avoid it by isolating herself when she sleeps: never sharing a bed, doing her best to not share a room, sleeping while other people are awake. but sometimes, it’s inevitable. she’s still not strong enough to always pull herself out of other people’s dreams.

daphne, mental inducement

daphne’s power is part of why she’s where she is today. in her life and career as not only a magician but part of a ring of thieves, her ability to influence her audience and her targets is of the utmost importance. she makes it a point to limit her use to only the people her group is robbing and not the people she knows personally.

ella, subordination manipulation

ella, as a princess, does find some use in her power. it’s not often that she personally comes across anyone who is overtly insubordinate, but on the occasions she does, she’s able to quickly put them back into their place without letting anyone know there was an issue to begin with.

gwen, sensory scrying

gwen rarely actively seeks to use her power, more so letting it lay dormant, but when she does use it, she tries to use it quickly and get out. she hates the feeling of not being in control despite being able to see and feel everything through the body of whoever her target is. though most people would find it invasive, gwen doesn’t have an issue with it morally, rather being opposed to excessive use based on how she personally feels when using it.

hyebin, enhanced charisma

hyebin’s power is less of a conscious use case and more of an innate characteristic of her personality. most of the time, she isn’t even aware of its influence on the people around her. it’s hard to picture where she’d be or what she’d be like without her ability since it presented itself at such a young age for her.

indie, inner beast

indie has only ever used her inner beast twice - once without knowing what she was doing, and once on purpose. she’s naturally rather even tempered, so keeping it to herself isn’t exceedingly hard, but there are times she can feel it threatening to break loose without her wanting it to. she’s by no means perfect, but she does have the most control over herself out of all the mutants.

jackie, telepathy

jackie isn’t sure how to control her power just yet. she still only taps into her telepathy accidentally, mostly when someone around her is thinking especially intensely about something. she’s too afraid to let other people know about her ability, and she feels guilty practicing on the unsuspecting, so she’s still trying to figure out how to hone her skills on her own without the help of anyone.

jiaying, partial animal morphing

jiaying is a baby mutant, so her powers have only recently presented themselves. she’s still trying really hard to keep them under control most of the time. right now, she can manifest certain animal features ( mostly bunny ears or a tail, but if she focuses, she isn’t limited to just those ), but with enough training, she’ll be able to fully morph into the animal of her choosing.

jinah, home embodiment

jinah’s power is another that is less of an applied ability and more of a passive trait that she has. she sometimes jokes that she just has a face that makes people trust her and feel comfortable enough to open up, even without knowing her very well. the truth is that, with very few exceptions, everyone feels comfortable around her because of her power.

lula, mediumship

lula is only now beginning to move out of the denial phase of learning that she has a power, let alone one as intrusive as being a medium. the older she’s gotten, the stronger it’s become ( though it has been present since she was a child ). she isn’t sure how she’s going to cope with it yet, but she’s starting to accept that this isn’t something she can ignore until it goes away.

mandy, weather manipulation

mandy has one of the most obvious powers of all the mutants -- it’s almost impossible to hide, especially when she’s in a foul mood. she enjoys using her ability to cope with how she’s feeling, even if it isn’t the safest or wisest idea to do so. it most often presents itself when she’s upset or frustrated with something.

mary jane, illusion manipulation

mary jane tries to use her power for good, albeit for her benefit, when she does use them. calming people ( especially her daughter ) down, helping her friends visualize the lives they want -- she tries to use what she was gifted with to help others instead of using them to manipulate people for something worse.

nova, heartlessness

nova’s power is more a personality trait than a purposefully used ability, much like hyebin and ruby. and not the most positive personality trait, either. she’s cold and detached from most things. though it helps her see things more objectively than the majority of people, it’s highly stunted her ability to connect with others and empathize. she’s still able to love and care for people and things, but it’s not often that she does.

ruby, pain suppression

ruby’s relationship with her power is very complicated. for a long time, it was what kept her at the top of her game as a dancer. she was able to work harder, longer, better than her competition because she wasn’t feeling the consequences of her training in the same way everyone else was. that same benefit soon turned into what took her out of the scene at her prime. she didn’t know she was seriously injured until it was too late to fix, and now she resents the fact that she was ever born with this ability.

sadie, love empowerment

sadie’s power is closer to love metabolization than empowerment, truthfully. when she shows or feels affection or love, she gets a burst of energy. there were a couple years when she started college, after her family cut all contact with her, that her powers went into hibernation. it took a lot of building up her own self esteem before they returned.

sage, emotion manipulation

sage is the in between of all three kwon girls. she tries to keep her powers to herself unless absolutely necessary, but she isn’t afraid of using them if she needs to. she’ll hold off until she’s positive they’re needed, though. using her powers is draining both physically and emotionally. if she doesn’t keep her guard up at all times, it’s very easy for her to accidentally influence the emotions of those around her and drain herself without realizing until it’s too late.

stevie, regeneration

stevie doesn’t purposely use her powers. she didn’t know they were even there until tatum noticed that stevie heals much faster than she should. she can still be seriously hurt, but most minor injuries and illnesses fade incredibly quickly. she’s never had scrapes or bruises that lasted more than an hour at most, but she is still able to get sick or have broken bones.

tasha, imagination manifestation

tasha’s only real use for her power is for her art. since the things she’s able to manifest are only semi permanent, she uses them as models for the pieces she draws and paints. she’s very self conscious about it, even around other people with powers, so she confines her use to when she knows she’s alone or has ample private time.

tatum, life empowerment

tatum’s power, like sadie’s, is closer to metabolization than empowerment. when she was younger, her parents thought she was merely an extreme extrovert, but she truly does gain energy from being around other people. it doesn’t even necessarily have to be via interaction -- she can feel it just from sitting in a crowded room most of the time.

#outta my head ( muse info. )#( here's the mutant portion of the power info!! )#( i might do a post for my supernatural muses but??? most of them don't have any specific special powers )#( so i'm undecided )

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darisu-chan · 7 years

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The Price of Love, 4

Postlude

“This is nice.” Rukia murmured as she pulled Ichigo closer to her, their naked bodies becoming more entangled.

“Yes, it is.” Ichigo agreed, nuzzling her head, and grabbing her by the waist. Rukia’s hair tickling his chin.

Almost four years had passed by since Ichigo and Rukia had graduated from high school and had started their college lives. They had gone to Tokyo, each renting different apartments, but close enough so that they could still see each other daily. Their lives had changed in the sense they were more independent now, but had more obligations than during their high school lives. They were also pretty much by themselves, with Byakuya rarely seeing Rukia even if they now lived in the same city. In this way, they had managed to continue living in their fantasy, ignoring the harsh reality. Nevertheless, with the four year marked approaching, they couldn’t ignore it anymore.

“I wish we could stay like this forever.” The young woman mentioned, as she gently drew patterns on Ichigo’s chest with her finger.

“Me too.” Her lover said in return, kissing softly her neck.

She laughed. “Stop it.” She said noncommittally.

“I don’t want to.” The man whined, eliciting a chuckle from his girlfriend.

“You’ll have to, Ichigo. I’ve got two essays to finish before the deadline.”

“I had forgotten how much of a nerd you are.”

“Ha, ha.” Rukia laughed sarcastically. “Don’t make fun of me. You should do your own work as well.”

“Ugh. Don’t remind me.” Ichigo grumbled, and Rukia took the opportunity to stand up.

He couldn’t stop staring at her. She was so beautiful, standing naked before him, with the sun setting in the background. He licked his lips. Her skin was smooth and creamy. Her legs were long and firm. Her neck elegant. From where he was laying, he couldn’t see her breasts clearly, just the outline of them, which was enough. He knew that they were small but perfectly rounded. They easily fitted his hands. His eyes roamed her behind next. Her butt was firm and round, like a peach.

He grew hard.

“Rukia.” Ichigo said, voice husky and demanding.

Rukia turned to look at him, and gave him a challenging gaze. “Yeah?”

“Come back to bed.”

She smirked. “Make me.”

Never one to say no to a challenge, Ichigo stood up and grabbed her hips, pulling her back to bed as she laughed. He started tickling her as punishment for daring leave his side. She kept laughing, but then started moaning, when Ichigo’s hands started massaging her breasts, and his mouth left wet kisses on her stomach.

“Ichigo.” Rukia moaned as the man continued with his ministrations, now kissing her nipples. She grabbed his hair, and directed him where she wanted.

“Don’t be so impatient.” He chuckled, as she huffed.

“Then do what I want.”

“Of course.”

He then kissed her passionately, in the way she had always liked it. It was the kind of kiss which made you close your eyes, and enjoy the ride as it lifted you up higher and higher. As he kissed her, his hands traveled south, rubbing and caressing her where she was most sensitive. Finally, he reached that spot which drove her crazy, and started rubbing her.

After so many nights together, Ichigo was quite familiar with the way Rukia liked to be touched. Making love to her was a privilege, and he always strived to make her feel amazing. He continued kissing her and touching her in ways only he could, memorizing the sounds she made every time. Rukia, likewise, etched on her memory how he made her feel, and how it was like to be loved by him.

Her back arched when he finally entered her, and Rukia moaned his name, as Ichigo grunted. They pulled each other closer, as close as they could be, and the dance started. He never stopped kissing her, and she never let go, not even when both had reached their climax, and had collapsed on the bed, spent and sweaty.

“I love you.” Ichigo said affectionately, playing with Rukia’s short strands of hair.

“I love you too, Ichigo.” She replied, caressing his cheek.

Days like this one were often the norm. The two spending every waking moment together, knowing it could be their last. As much as they tried to ignore it, reality was always at the back of their minds, like a ghost which haunted them. It was obvious that at one point the pressure would be too much, and one or the two of them would snap under the pressure. This event finally occurred that very night, as they both tried to concentrate on their works, but Ichigo’s mind had been elsewhere.

“In a few months we’ll be graduating.” He mentioned, interrupting Rukia’s typing.

“I can’t believe it. Seems only yesterday we were still in high school.” She replied with fondness, thinking about those days in Karakura.

“We were kids back then, and now we’re adults.” Ichigo said sadly.

Rukia snorted. “We’re not that old, Ichigo. You’re twenty three and I’m twenty two.”

“Still, we’ll soon face the real world. We won’t be able to afford being careless anymore, Rukia.” He said dejectedly.

“What is this really about?” She finally asked.

“In a few months, we’ll have to break up and you’ll marry Kaien.”

Ah. Of course.

Rukia sighed. “Don’t remind me. I wish it wasn’t happening.” Denial was bliss in that little world of hers.

Ichigo scooted closer to her. “Do you regret it? Being with me, that is.”

She shook her head. “Never. Don’t even think about it.” After a few seconds of silence, she added. “Do you regret it?”

“No!” The man exclaimed. “It’s just that sometimes I wish we’d done it differently, y’know?”

“Oh, I know. If I hadn’t been a noble, if we had met as regular high school students, if we hadn’t needed to conceal our true feelings, if only I wasn’t engaged to your cousin.” That was the harsh truth.

“I wish you could decide what you want, Rukia.” He said, taking his lover in his strong arms. The young woman hugged him back.

“So do I. Sometimes I feel guilty.”

“Why?” He shifted so he could look at her.

“I’ve been cheating on Kaien-dono for six years now.” It was the first time Rukia had admitted it out loud. The affirmation stunned them into silence.

“And I’ve been in a relationship with my cousin’s fiancée.” Ichigo replied dryly.

Rukia laughed without mirth. “What a pair we make!”

“I’d still do it all over again if I at least got the chance to be with you for six years.” He confessed, and the woman immediately kissed him softly on the lips.

“If there was a way out of this, believe me, I’d take it and be with you.” Rukia’s words sparked something in his mind, memories, more precisely, of when he had been fifteen and had just discovered he was a noble. His father’s words resounded in his ears. Isshin had found a way out.

“There is.” That phrase resounded in the otherwise silent room.

“What?” Rukia said perplexed.

“My dad got out of an arranged marriage. If he did, you can.”

“I see where this is going.” She said. “But I can’t.”

That wasn’t what Ichigo wanted to hear. “You can’t or you won’t?”

“Ichigo, what your father did wasn’t that easy. He left everything behind, not only his position, fortune and name, but his family too. He hid his true identity from you for years. And even then, it wasn’t a true act of rebellion. The Shiba Clan let him go.”

“What do you mean?”

“You think they’d let their Head go without a plan? No. It was good that your father had a brother, one that the elders obviously liked more. If it wasn’t for that, he wouldn’t have been able to escape. That’s why my father bent the rules to marry my mother, knowing there was no one else but him. I don’t have any siblings, Ichigo, not first cousins. It’s basically only me. If I left, there’d be no one. The elders and my father would pursue me to the ends of the world. I just can’t run away with you.” Rukia explained as best as she could, trying to make him understand.

“No, I get it. You have chosen duty over love.” He said, standing up.

“Ichigo.”

“Just because you’re too afraid of letting your father down, you’re not willing to try and change your destiny. But I’m not afraid. I will find a way, Rukia, and you can’t stop me.” With that said, he left.

“Ichigo! Wait!” Rukia shouted but it was too late. He was gone. “Damn it!” She cursed and punched a pillow. Things were rapidly crumbling down.

Although Ichigo had told Rukia he’d find a way to stop the marriage from taking place, he didn’t know how or where to start. Truthfully, he was still pretty pissed at Rukia for not fighting for their future, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss her very much. Just two days after their fight, and he was already feeling crappy about not being able to talk to her or see her. He wouldn’t survive it if she got married.

Sighing and frowning as he sipped dark coffee in the cafeteria was how Abarai Renji found Ichigo. Renji, who had been his friend since freshman year of college, knew what was wrong. It was weird to see the orange haired man before him without a certain petite woman who was fond of rabbits. He instantly knew they had fought, which was definitely nothing new, except for the fact they usually made up the same day. The fact Ichigo was alone and brooding meant they hadn’t made up quickly this time.

“Problems in paradise?” He jested, as he sat down on the same table as Ichigo.

“I’m not in the mood for your lame jokes, Renji.” Ichigo answered.

“Whoa, you sure are moody today. What’s up? Rukia didn’t let you choose movie night?” Renji was not blind. From the moment he had met them, he had quickly realized they were an item even if they said they weren’t. He had noticed this because he had had a crush on Rukia the very moment he set eyes on her, only to find out she was more than likely already in love with Ichigo. Regardless of that situation, Renji had gotten over his crush, and became good friends with them. For whatever reason, they chose to hide their relationship and Renji respected that, barely commenting on it. Unless he needed to get a point across.

“It’s not about Rukia.” Ichigo denied.

“Oh, so it is! What did you do this time?”

Ichigo scoffed. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Uh-hu.” The red haired man said. “Like I’d believe you.”

“Whatever.” Was the dry response.

“Look, I don’t mean to intrude─”

“You’re doing a pretty good job about it.”

“I don’t need your sarcasm, Ichigo! What I mean to say is that if you have problems with Rukia, just talk to her. She’s stubborn and possibly more thick-headed than you, but she’ll listen if it’s you. You’re her weak spot, man. And it’s time you realize it.” Renji said earnestly. Those two were probably the only people he’d met who didn’t judge him because of his low background or the many tattoos he had. He’d do anything for them.

“Thanks. You’re awesome, Renji.”

“Hey, now, don’t get all mushy on me, bro, I don’t swing that way.”

“Shut up!”

Listening to Renji’s advice, and realizing they were wasting precious time together, Ichigo, as Renji would put it, grew some balls and went to Rukia’s apartment that very evening with a box of chocolates and a promise of watching the new Chappy the Rabbit movie Rukia had been dying to see for a while now.

“You’re such a fool.” She told him as he entered her apartment.

“I know.” Ichigo conceded and finally kissed her. “I’m sorry. We don’t have much time left, we should enjoy it while it lasts.”

Rukia happily agreed with that sentiment.

Rukia was having the most boring time in her life at a family gathering. Most elders and other members of the clan were there, including her father. She felt all their eyes on her, waiting until she made one mistake to scold her. Rukia, since childhood, had known what they all thought of her. She was that bitch’s spawn, who had come to infect the honorable Kuchiki Clan. They hadn’t liked Hisana, her mother, and of that Rukia was aware. They had delighted in her death, and probably were unhappy that Rukia hadn’t inherited Hisana’s sickness. They couldn’t get rid of her, though, for she was Byakuya’s only child ─he had refused to remarry after his wife’s death─, and as such, the only heir to the Kuchiki Clan. So, they could only content themselves with making Rukia as miserable as it was possible. Her manners, her physical features, her speech, intelligence, personality, and even her mere existence had been mocked for almost twenty three years. Seeing them all gathered in front of her disgusted her.

One would think her father, the Head of the Clan, would demand the respect his daughter deserved. Sadly, Byakuya had caused too much trouble during his youth, and had made a promise to his parents’ grave that he would never break the clan’s rules again. That meant not going against the elders, even if he had to watch his daughter suffer in silence. It was most unfortunate.

“How are your studies going, Rukia?” Byakuya asked his daughter during dinner, noticing her discomfort.

“Very well, father.” Rukia answered. “I will be graduating in March.”

That caught the attention of the elders. “Excellent! That means we can start planning the wedding. We must notify the Shiba Clan.”

That was right. The elders were the reason she had to marry Kaien-dono. She had barely turned fifteen when they were already saying that the Shiba Clan had promised the Kuchiki Clan a union, and now they could fulfill it by marrying their two heirs. The Shiba Clan had accepted, if only because having their heir marry the Kuchiki heiress would certainly elevate their status as a noble clan above the other three, for the Kuchiki Clan was always on top. Byakuya, because of his promise, hadn’t been able to refuse the offer, and thus had condemned his daughter to the situation she was in right now.

“Of course the wedding will have to be traditional.”

“And the ceremony will be held in one of our shrines.”

“The banquet needs to be exquisite.”

“The reception should be at our main manor.”

As the elders started planning, Rukia felt herself growing nauseous. It was finally happening. Her freedom would be over after March. She’d never be with Ichigo again.

She excused herself.

Rukia wasn’t the only one who had to deal with family dinners. Shortly after the Kuchiki Clan gathering, Kaien called him to eat dinner with him and his siblings. Isshin and the twins had also been invited. Ichigo dreaded seeing his cousin. It hadn’t been a problem at the beginning, not when they rarely saw Kaien at Karakura, and knowing Rukia loved him was enough. But as they grew older, and as the wedding date started approaching, Ichigo developed a grudge against Kaien. To an outside party, his feelings wouldn’t have seemed surprising, it was natural to dislike the man that could take it all away. Yet Ichigo was shocked to discover he harbored such hatred for his cousin, who had been nothing but kind and caring towards his family and him. He felt like a hypocrite too, for he had been sleeping with his future wife for years, while Kaien remained none the wiser.

“Welcome, welcome!” Kaien said as he saw Ichigo at the threshold of his manor at Tokyo. There he had lived with Kūkaku and Ganju until his studies and later his business had taken him elsewhere. Ichigo knew that he currently was living in his own apartment on the outskirts of Tokyo, though he visited his siblings often. “Your father and sisters are already here.”

The younger man nodded and followed Kaien to the living room. He observed him as they walked. Kaien hadn’t really changed through the years. He was just a jovial and carefree as he was when they first met. But he did notice that his eyes didn’t sparkle as much as before. Perhaps the stress of leading his clan was taking a toll on him.

“Ichigo! You’re late!” Isshin accused his son the moment the two men stepped into the room.

Said man rolled his eyes. “I’m here, right? That’s what matters.”

“I wish you hadn’t come.” Ganju muttered under his breath. He and Ichigo hadn’t stopped being rivals yet. The rest of the family knew they cared for each other, even if they denied it.

Suddenly Ganju was whacked with his sister’s prosthetic arm. “Don’t be rude, Ganju!”

“Yes, nee-san.”

The family caught up with recent events. Ganju wanted to start his own veterinary clinic. Kūkaku had been working on a new project which was top secret for one of the companies owned by the Shiba Clan. Kaien had been working in international law, and had been traveling to Osaka often for business. Meanwhile, Yuzu had started studying to be a chef, while Karin had taken into her father’s footsteps and was studying medicine. Ichigo told them he was going to be graduating soon, and was not sure if he’d stay in Tokyo or go back to Karakura.

“You’re going to be a detective. There’s more work for that here than in your hometown.” Kaien commented.

“Maybe.” Ichigo grumbled. His decision relied more in the fact of whether or not he could stay where Rukia and Kaien would be living.

Soon, conversation went somewhere else until it unavoidably landed on Rukia.

“So, what is this I hear about the wedding being soon, Kaien?” Isshin asked after dinner.

The conversation stopped an all eyes turned to the man. “Yeah, the Kuchiki elders are setting it in April.” He said sheepishly.

“Are you ready?” Isshin said rather seriously. “Do you know where you’re going to live?”

Kaien scratched his neck. “We haven’t figured things out yet.”

“You need to think about that soon.”

“We will.”

Things got awkward after that point. It was no secret that the Kurosakis loved Rukia as part of the family, but they all disliked the idea of her marrying Kaien out of obligation. Kūkaku and Ganju had similar feelings, believing this would just make their brother unhappy.

“Anyway, who wants wine?” The host asked, and all of his guests said they wanted that beverage. “Alright, be right back.”

Ichigo stood up. “Let me help you.”

They walked in silence until they reached the cellar. Once there, Kaien, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, turned to look at him and crossed his arms.

“Well, speak.”

“What?” This bewildered Ichigo.

“I’m not an idiot, cousin. I know you wanted to talk to me in private and that’s why you followed me, so speak.”

The younger man shook his head. “Nothing escapes you.” Then he sighed. “Are you really going to marry Rukia?” He finally asked.

“What do you mean? Of course I’m going to marry her.” Kaien answered.

“Then, do you love her?” Ichigo asked, again surprising the other man.

“What?” He said, dumbfounded.

“Do you love her, do you have romantic feelings towards her?” He repeated.

“I’m not gonna lie, I care for her. But I don’t love her like that.” Kaien said sincerely.

“So are you happy with trapping her in a loveless marriage?” That was the real reason for their abrupt meeting.

“Ichigo, what brought this on?”

“That she’s gonna have to marry you soon. That she’s gonna be stripped of her freedom, and become a housewife. She doesn’t love you nor does she want this life. She can’t fight back for some bullshit reason, but you can.”

“It’s not that simple, Ichigo. You wouldn’t’ understand. You didn’t grow up a noble.”

From where he was standing, Kaien didn’t look like the carefree young man he had met when he had been fifteen. He looked dead tired, as if he was caring all the weight of the world on his shoulders. Worst of all, he looked defeated, ready to embrace his dire fate, which didn’t sit well on Ichigo. It was wrong, and he was going to make him see it.

“I understand, alright. That you’re slaves to some old bastards. But I do know that you can fight back. You just need a reason, and I’m gonna give it to you. If you truly care about Rukia, you’ll find a way out.” And with that said, Ichigo left his cousin to mull over his words. He hadn’t noticed until later, he finally was taller than Kaien.

It was Rukia’s birthday, and she had decided to spend the whole day with Ichigo. They had gone to the movies, eaten burgers at the mall, went to the Chappy Store where Ichigo had bought her a Chappy ring and a Chappy plush with a party hat on, and finally they had gone to Ichigo’s apartment, where he had surprised her with dinner he had made himself. The day had been amazing, filled with fun and warmth. That is how Rukia would describe her days with her lover. Fun. Warm. As if she had been visited by the sun itself. And to think her days feeling like this were numbered… That brought her a sense of grief similar to losing her mother but different as well. She’d have to mourn the company of a man who would continue living, just not near her.

She sighed and blinked back tears as she played with the strawberry ice cream Ichigo had served her.

“What’s wrong?” He asked her once he piqued on her mood.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Rukia said, trying to smile. “This is perfect. You are perfect.”

“But?” He added, knowing there was more to it than she was showing.

The woman shook her head. Sometimes she hated how well Ichigo could read it. “It’s just sad, y’know? This will never happen again.” She gestured to Ichigo’s apartment and the dinner he had prepared for her.

Ichigo nodded as if he had been thinking the same thing. It was scary how attuned they were. “I know.” He sighed and started massaging his temples. “But this doesn’t have to end.”

Rukia blinked twice. “What do you mean?”

The man sighed. “I know I’ve asked you before, and I know your answer, but I’m gonna repeat it. Rukia, run away with me.”

She looked at him at a loss of words, then to the table, and finally back at him again. Other times he had insinuated running away, she had looked at him with resolve in her eyes and an answer in her tongue, but this time there was doubt in her. “I… I don’t know.” Rukia finally said, her heart torn between what she wanted and what she had to do.

This gave him hope. “We can do it. Kaien won’t force you to anything. He doesn’t have it in him. And even if the Kuchiki Clan tries to hunt you down, perhaps Byakuya won’t let them. I think he understands best than anyone what you’re going through. Maybe he’ll let you go. Perhaps he’ll change the rules.”

Rukia awkwardly shifted in her seat. “I don’t know… We’re working with a lot of possibilities here and not one definite answer.”

“That’s how life is. It’s all a gamble. You never know how’s it gonna be. That can’t stop you from living.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” She whispered, and crossed her arms around herself, creating a barrier to protect herself.

He chuckled. “You could never hurt me.”

“This is all so complicated. Why can’t it be easy?” Rukia complained.

“It can be.” He said simply.

“How?”

“Rukia, just think about what you want and decide from there.”

She didn’t have to think twice. “I want you.” Simple words that meant so much more. Him. A life with him. Marrying him. Having a family with him. Being with him always.

“Then the solution is easy. Let’s run away.” Ichigo proposed. They could run away back to Karakura or someplace else entirely. Japan was big enough to hide them.

“Okay.”

And that’s all it took.

Their plan had not many details. It was very simple, actually. They would wait until their graduations. Once it was over, Rukia would leave a letter for her father explaining her situation and decision. Then, the two would move far away from Tokyo and start over. They hadn’t told Ichigo’s family yet, but he was sure his father would understand. They would start working, and rent an apartment for themselves. In a few years, they would get married and no one could stop them. Now, their destination hadn’t been decided yet. It could Osaka, Sapporo, Kanazawa or Okinawa. It didn’t really matter as long as they were far away from Tokyo.

As for their lives, they went on as normal for a whole month. Taking classes, studying, finishing essays before the due dates, and spending the rest of their free time together. They had gone to Karakura Town once to visit Ichigo’s family. They had even met their old high school friends and caught up. They all had been going well, but things were about to change drastically.

February was dying, giving way to March, and with the approaching ceremony and subsequent eloping. It was just an average Friday night. Ichigo and Rukia had been watching movies at the latter’s apartment, and, as always, things had escalated until they had ended up naked in tangled sheets, high from sheer ecstasy. They were currently cuddling, their bodies close, breathing still erratic, messy hair, and smiles adorning their faces. Ichigo played with Rukia’s hair, while she drew patterns on his chest. They whispered sweet nothings to each other. Then started talking about trivialities, enveloped in a cocoon of intimacy. They could have stayed like this forever, but their bubble was burst by Rukia’s cellphone ringing.

“Who could be calling at this hour?” Ichigo complained, for it was well past midnight.

Rukia checked the caller ID and turned white. “My father.”

She instantly stood up, threw over her body Ichigo’s shirt, as if the thought of speaking while naked with her father on the phone was unthinkable, and walked to the living room, finally answering his call. “Hello, father. What is it?” Ichigo heard her ask.

She was shaking as she spoke, feeling faint. Had he had discover them? If that was it she was prepared to fight for her relationship with Ichigo, the man she loved. She would call off her wedding right then and there, their previous plans be damned. But what she heard from the other side of the line was completely different to what she expected.

“What?” She blurted out in disbelief. Ichigo, curious, walked towards the living room, finding his lover standing there, still as stone.

“Yes, yes, alright. I’ll tell him. Goodbye.” She hung up, and stared at the floor as if it had all the answers she wanted.

“So what did Byakuya want?” Ichigo finally asked, curiosity getting the best of him.

Rukia turned to look at him slowly, eyes widen in disbelief. “It was about Kaien-dono.”

The man frowned. “Is something wrong with him?”

“He eloped and married another woman.” Rukia answered, still in shock.

Ichigo had to laugh, his voice echoing through the night.

They were summoned for an urgent meeting the next Saturday, in which all members of the Kuchiki and Shiba Clans had to be present, which meant that even Kurosaki Isshin and his three children had to be present as well. The meeting was held on the main Kuchiki manor, inside its largest room. It was furnished in classic Japanese style, with only a painting adorning the wall, and large tables spread across the room as its only furniture. The tables were filled from one side to the other by the members of each clan. Byakuya was sitting at the head of the main table, along with Rukia. The other end of the table was empty, for Kaien hadn’t showed up.

The room was anything but silent. Although all nobles prided on being dignified, this time they were all shouting at each other, yelling insults, making threats, and more. Such behavior was more appropriate of a market rather than the meeting room of the great Kuchiki Clan.

“I can’t believe Kaien-sama would have done such a thing! This wouldn’t have happened in my days!” One Kuchiki elder lamented loudly, while his peers nodded in agreement. “It’s unbelievable how such a noble man stained his own honor like that.”

“This wouldn’t have happened if Rukia-sama had gotten married to him years ago. He got tired of waiting. Can’t blame him for that.” A Shiba elder retorted maliciously.

“Excuse you, but I should think that the heiress of the Kuchiki Clan is worth the wait.” Another Kuchiki elder defended their position.

“Kaien-sama is but a man. A man has needs.” Replied another.

“But an honorable man such as himself should have waited for his bride, instead of settling for some whore.” A third Kuchiki elder interfered, smirking at the end of the sentence.

“Shall I remind you that your precious ojou-sama’s mother can be described with those very words? In fact, I recall your clan referred to her as such.”

“How dare you bring that up?!”

“Maybe that’s why Kaien-sama ran away. He didn’t want to get married to the daughter of a whore. Maybe she’s just like her mother.”

“Silence!” Byakuya, who up until that point had remained silent, finally spoke up. His shout resounded against the walls, quieting all the room. His face remained as impassive as ever, but if one truly knew him, they would have noticed he had gotten angry at the sly remarks towards his late wife and daughter. “I am astonished at the way the honorable elders have spoken today. Such behavior is more proper of commoners. I will not tolerate any disrespect towards my wife or my daughter in my own home. Are we clear?” He didn’t raise his voice again, but Byakuya spoke with such authority the rest were humbled in return.

“Hai, Byakuya-sama.” They all answered.

“Very well.” The Head of the Kuchiki Clan nodded, pleased that they had finally shut up. “Now, does anyone in here know the whereabouts of Shiba Kaien?” He went down to business immediately.

Kūkaku raised her hand. “As far as my brother Ganju and I know, nii-san was attending a business meeting in Osaka.”

“Lies, all lies!” A Kuchiki elder interjected.

“Silence.” Byakuya commanded again. He then turned to the young woman. “Was he notified about this urgent meeting?”

“Ganju and I left him several text messages and voice mails, so we think he must know by now.”

Byakuya nodded again. “Then we must begin without him. We have summoned all of you due to a serious matter which concerns the Head of the Shiba Clan, Shiba Kaien, and my daughter, Kuchiki Rukia. Akira-dono, if you please, tell the rest the news that you shared with me last night.”

A woman in her seventies stood up, bowed towards Byakuya, and spoke. “Last night we received some troubling news. One of our relatives in Osaka told us he had seen Kaien-sama with a woman several times. We asked him to investigate, as it were to know for certain he had not been cheating on our ojou-sama. Last night he confirmed our suspicions, and it was worse than we could have imagined, for Kaien-sama, as it appears, has recently wedded a woman by the name of Miyako.” She finished, and the Shiba elders erupted in anger.

“Kaien-sama would never do that!”

“This is a scam!”

“Silence!” Byakuya shouted again. “This is the last time I will ask you to keep quiet. The next time it happens, I will ask of everyone who shouts that they exit the room.”

“Byakuya-sama, I have finished my report.” The woman said.

“Very well, please sit down, Akira-dono.” The woman bowed down again, and sat down. “If this information were to be true,” Byakuya continued, “it will mean that Shiba Kaien has made a serious affront not only to this clan, but to my daughter as well.” He finished gravely. “Does any member of the Shiba Clan have information regarding this woman named ‘Miyako’?”

“Nii-san has mentioned her once or twice.” Ganju blurted out before his sister could stop him.

Byakuya nodded, impassively. ��So at the very least, it has been confirmed that Shiba Kaien does in fact know a woman named Miyako. How much time does he spend in Osaka?”

“He goes very frequently, more than we would like.” A Shiba elder confessed.

“Hmmm.” Byakuya murmured, as if he were thinking. “So it appears this information must be true. How shall we proceed?”

“Byakuya-sama, if I may?” A Kuchiki elder spoke.

“Please do, Saburo-san.”

“I hadn’t even been born yet, when this decision came to be, but my father communicated this to me in time, and I know it to be true. Long ago, the Kuchiki and Shiba clans agreed that they should join forces, and promised that the children of the heads would get married. Alas, as it were, only boys were born for the next three generations, until twenty three years ago, Rukia-sama was born. Given that the Shiba Clan had produced two sons, it seemed it was finally the time to fulfill this pact.” Saburo explained to the nobles, some of them had been unaware of this situation. “Shiba Kaien not only broke his engagement and promised to marry ojou-sama, but he also broke his ancestor’s plans. This is a disgrace for the Shiba Clan.”

“In the pact it was only stated that the children of the heads should get married?” One Shiba Clan member asked.

“It is as you say.”

“Then not everything is lost! Ganju-sama is also the son of the previous Head, surely he can marry Rukia-sama!” That same Shiba elder proposed, and the rest seemed to agree.

“I wouldn’t start planning the wedding, though.” A voice said from the entrance.

“Kaien-sama?!”

Shiba Kaien in the flesh stood there, looking rather cocky.

“You made it, Kaien-sama! Splendid! Now you can explain your situation!” Another elder said, clapping her hands.

“Ah, that’s right.”Kaien looked around the room. “What you heard is right, I am married but not to Rukia.” He declared, making the nobles gasp.

“But why, Kaien-sama? Why did you break your word?”

“To be completely honest with all of you, I never wanted to marry Rukia. Not because there’s something wrong with her, but simply because it was never my decision. I don’t love her, and I know she doesn’t love me either. But back then, I was too stunned by recent events to say anything. I had just lost my father and had become Head in the span of a few months, and now I had become engaged to a much younger girl. It was too much to take in in so little time.

I never wanted to marry Rukia, that’s true, but I intended to. It hadn’t crossed my mind that I’d be sacrificing more than just my life, but Rukia’s as well. Our freedom would be gone. And I also hadn’t realized that, as Head, I had a say in this, I could stop it from happening, until someone reminded me of it.” He said, locking eyes with Ichigo, who nodded in understanding. “It also helped that I fell in love.” He chuckled. “So, I followed my heart like my uncle before me, and I married the woman I love, setting Rukia free in return.”

The whole room gasped, and then erupted in accusations.

“Why wasn’t Rukia-sama enough?”

“You have no shame!”

“You broke your word, Kaien-sama!”

“Shut up!” He yelled. “As always, you elders only care about your interests. Rukia is not a piece of meat for you to decide who she should marry. She’s an incredible young woman who has barely seen and experienced the world. She should travel, work, and do what she pleases before she settles down. And when she does get married, she should marry the man she loves, the man she will choose herself, like I did. I married Miyako not for money or benefits, she’s not even a noble, she’s a regular woman, but with a big heart. I love her and I don’t regret marrying her. And if the great Shiba nobles can’t accept that, then I quit. I don’t want to be Head anymore if it means I shall renounce to my own freedom, and integrity as a person.” And with that, Shiba Kaien left the room to the astonishment of the rest.

It chaos from then on. Accusations followed. Some Shiba nobles cried. Kūkaku and Ganju exited the room, and went after their older brother, probably having a lot of questions themselves. Isshin shook his head, remembering his own experience, when he himself had left the clan. They say that love is the death of duty, but this had to be with much more than just the love of a woman. It was something only few could understand. It was freeing yourself from previous attachments to live the life you wanted. It was scary but worth it. Something the nobles, who loved rank and money above all else, wouldn’t understand.

“Silence!” He said, using a tone of voice he had heard his father often use. “My nephew has formally left his position as Head in a meeting as the rules of our Clan dictate. He’s no longer Head. Now, before we settle this issue of the broken engagement, the Shiba Clan will need a new Head. For that, we will need to meet again after some time has passed, and we can think with a level head.” The former Head explained, and various voices agreed with him.

“Very well. We will meet again in the Shiba estate in precisely two weeks from now. You are all dismissed.” Byakuya said, stood up, and left with Rukia in tow.

The young woman locked eyes with Ichigo, the two wondering what would happen with their lives next

In exactly two long weeks later, all the nobles were reunited, but this time in the main Shiba manor. All Shiba Clan members were there, minus Kaien. Similarly, all Kuchiki Clan members had gone to the manor for the meeting. Isshin decided to direct the meeting, seeming as the elders seemed still too shock by the course of events to be objective and keep order. They were all sitting down as in the Kuchiki manor, but this time both Byakuya and Isshin were sitting at the heads of each table.

“Well, honorable members, what have you decided?” Isshin asked once everyone had settled down.

One of the younger elders stood up. “As per custom, the next Head should be the previous Head’s heir, which in this case would be Shiba Ganju.” Said man gulped, and shifted in his seat. “However, we deem Ganju-sama as his brother, too young to rule, and certainly not one who will follow the rules of the Clan, and will eventually leave it too. Next we thought about Kūkaku-sama, older than Ganju-sama, but more spirited. She is also not fit to be the next Head.”

“Then what will proceed?” Isshin calmly asked.

The elders started looking nervous. “Well, you see Isshin-sama, the next Head must be always the son or daughter of a former Head, no exceptions. As you see, besides Kūkaku-sama and Ganju-sama, there is only one such person, and as it is, it happens that that person is yourself, Isshin-sama.” This statement was met with gasps not only from Isshin’s children, but from the Kuchiki Clan members as well.

“Is there no other way?”

“I am afraid not, Isshin-sama.”

Isshin contemplated it for a few moments. He looked at Yuzu, his darling daughter who was so much like her mother, then at Karin, his very headstrong daughter, and finally at Ichigo, his only son, who would probably lose much more than anyone else in the Clan if he were to make the wrong choice. His mind settled. “Then, I will take my title as Head back, as I suppose it should always have been.” The Shiba Clan erupted in cheers.

“Dad?” Ichigo asked, but Isshin shook his head.

“Not now, son.”

“Then, we shall move onto the matter of the engagement.” Byakuya spoke, and the rest nodded.

“Father, may I speak? I believe I have the right to voice my opinions as it turns out it is my engagement we are talking about.” Rukia interjected, startling the Kuchiki elders, who had never heard her speak in a meeting before.

“You may.” Byakuya conceded and she stood up.

“As Kaien-dono said in our previous meeting, I never wanted to marry him, and thought about our wedding with dread. I was happy when, through his own wedding to another woman, I became free of that engagement. Now I voice my opinions regarding this matter: I shall not marry a man, unless I have chosen to marry him. I will not let the Clan manage my affairs any longer. I do not want to leave the Clan, but I’m afraid I’ll have to if my decision is not approved. From now on, I will choose my own destiny.” She spoke clearly and with confidence, rendering everyone in the room speechless for a few moments, until the nobles were back at their accusations.

“Stubborn girl, how dare you try to change the rules?!”

“Like mother, like daughter!”

“The union between both clans must be fulfilled!”

“What has become of the great Kuchiki Clan?”

“The youth are becoming too proud!”

“Silence!” Byakuya said. He remained impassive, and then turned to his daughter. “Rukia, have you thought your proposal through?”

“Yes, father. I have thought hard about what I want for the last two weeks, and this is what I want, the freedom to choose when and who to marry.”

“And is there a man you wish to marry?” Byakuya said, almost knowingly.

Rukia, in fact, had thought and spoke with Ichigo several times during those weeks. They thought about worst case scenarios, and other possibilities. Finally, Rukia came to a decision. She was going to be truthful and say what she wanted to do. She was going to be brave and fight for her relationship with Ichigo, and if the nobles didn’t agree, so be it, she’d leave the clan and start anew. She knew Ichigo was her it, there was no man in the world she wished to be together with. After listening to her father, she was prepared to admit the truth, but before the words could leave her lips, a voice resonated across the room.

“There is!” Kurosaki Ichigo said confidently, standing up and locking eyes with Rukia. All nobles gasped.

“Isn’t that Isshin-sama’s son?”

“When did this happen?” The nobles murmured, but the couple wasn’t paying attention anymore.

“Ichigo…” She whispered. The young man started walking towards her, and when he reached her, he boldly grabbed her hand and entwined their fingers together, displaying their love for everyone to see.

“Rukia, is this true? Do you wish to marry Kurosaki Ichigo?” Byakuya asked.

“I do.” She proclaimed, but she wasn’t looking at her father anymore, her eyes never strayed from Ichigo’s brown eyes.

“And do you, Kurosaki Ichigo, wish to marry my daughter?” He asked the other man.

“Hell yes!” He exclaimed, and grinned at his lover, who chuckled.

“Then, it seems like all of our problems have been solved.” Isshin interjected. “Ichigo is my son, which makes him a Shiba, and since I’m the Head, he is my heir. This makes him completely eligible to be Rukia-chan’s fiancé. This way the pact can be fulfilled, to the happiness of each party.”

Some elders tried to protest, but their arguments died before they could express them. This solution had come from heaven itself. As Isshin had pointed out, Ichigo was now the best prospect for Rukia, and it helped that such a union was desired by both of them as well. Now, it was not possible for the pact to be broken.

“Then we can all agree that my daughter and Kurosaki Ichigo are betrothed?” Byakuya asked.

“On one condition.” Ichigo said, and all the nobles felt like groaning. They had been so close to a decision.

“And what could that condition be?”

“Ichigo and I will get married whenever we decide to do so, not sooner or later.” Rukia said.

“Very well, I accept that decision. Elders?” All the elders and the rest of the nobles nodded in agreement. “Then, the Kuchiki Clan accepts this engagement.”

Isshin grinned. “I also accept it. Shiba elders?” The Shibas nodded as well, they didn’t need to argue anymore. “Then, Kuchiki Rukia and Kurosaki Shiba Ichigo are hitherto engaged, and will get married when they decide to. We all expect wedding invitations within a reasonable time when the occasion comes, so that we can all make it to the event.” The Shiba Head proclaimed, and the nobles clapped.

Rukia and Ichigo smiled at each other. Then, they leaned in and shared a passionate kiss, grinning madly when they heard Ichigo’s family cheering in the background. Things were finally going their way.

Ichigo took a look at the Shiba manor’s gardens. They were as beautiful as Yuzu had described them. They had a wide variety of plants, and were calm and peaceful, the perfect environment to think. He sighed in sheer bliss from the calmness that surrounded him. It was a perfect evening to rest from his wild life.

“Ichigo.” The man looked up and saw his father already sitting next to him.

“Dad.” He greeted the man.

“How do you like the manor?”

“It’s huge. I can’t believe no one gets lost in here. I also can’t believe you grew up here, and turned out the way you did.” Ichigo said ironically, earning him a hit on the head.

“Disrespectful son! Is that the way to speak to your own father?” Isshin said with mock hurt.

“It is when you have a father such as you.”

“Hmmm… when you have a son as rude as you, you’ll understand all my woes.” The father threatened his son, who rolled his eyes.

“Whatever.”

“Speaking of which, I sure do hope Rukia-chan and you don’t wait too long to make me a grandfather. I think you’ve had enough practice and can get started on the real deal.” Isshin complained.

Ichigo turned bright red at the insinuation, and gaped at his father. “What?”

“Oh, please, did you think you could fool me? I’ve known about you two from the very beginning. You’re not as discreet as you think you are.” Isshin said, as if he hadn’t just thrown a major bomb at his son.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?!” Ichigo exclaimed.

“I wanted to see how you would resolve it. I had a feeling you’d end up eloping, but I’m glad everything got solved in the end.” He commented and smiled. “I’ve loved Rukia-chan from the start, and I’m glad she’ll officially become my third daughter.”

The young man shook his head. “And it didn’t bother you that we were straight up cheating on Kaien?”

Isshin snorted. “Please. Do you think Kaien didn’t cheat on Rukia? He probably dated other girls before getting together with his wife. In fact, I always found it weird he went to Osaka so frequently. Eventually I came to the conclusion a girl was involved. I was just waiting to see which one of you would break first. It did surprise me it was Kaien, though. I thought for sure you’d convince Rukia to run away with you before the wedding. Or that you’d stop it, anyway.”

Ichigo scratched his neck. “We did plan on eloping before this whole Kaien situation.” He admitted.

The father chuckled. “Like father, like son. And Rukia-chan just now managed it like a true Kuchiki. I guess she’s more like Byakuya than anyone thinks. Also, it did surprise me the nobles didn’t throw a fit when Rukia and you told him about it. Byakuya must’ve something to do with it. He probably was also counting on you to break that marriage.”

“Wait… Byakuya knew too before this?” He asked, bewildered.

“Yes, he has known for years, but never did anything to stop it. He likes seeing his daughter happy, and that’s why he even allowed it. Yuzu and Karin knew too, if you were wondering. And Kaien as well.”

“What?”

“And even if he hadn’t known it before, after your little ‘conversation’ with him, he probably put two and two together, which is good since that gave him the final push he needed to do what he wanted.”

Ichigo smiled. “I guess we were never alone. You all helped us in your own ways. Thank you for that.”

“Don’t even mention it, son. If Byakuya and I got our happy endings, by all means, our children should do too. However, I’m afraid that even your union with Rukia-chan comes with a price.” Isshin said gravely.

That caught Ichigo’s attention. “And what’s the price?”

“You’re a noble now, Ichigo. This makes you equal to Rukia-chan in all aspects, including the right for your freedom. From this moment onwards, you will have to fight for it, and make decisions that otherwise you wouldn’t need to do. The elders won’t forget Kaien’s affront, or even Rukia-chan’s bold decision. They will be at your backs, and later on they will take it out on your children. You will also become both heads of each clan. Remember that.”

Ichigo mulled over his father’s words for a while. “What the meeting showed me is that things are changing within the clans, especially when the heads take charge. I think it’s possible to change outdated rules, and grant more freedom to the members. But even if it weren’t possible, it’s a small price to pay for a life with Rukia. I think it would’ve been worse if she had ran away with me, and had been separated from her father. It would’ve deeply hurt her, and she would’ve regretted it forever. Now, she doesn’t have to stop seeing her family, and we can be together. We thought the price would be greater, and we’re thankful for this opportunity.”

Isshin smiled. “I suppose so. Regardless, the price of love is always willingly paid, no matter what.”

“I can testify to that!”

Father and son both laughed.

#ichiruki fanfiction #the price of love

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seriouslyhooked · 7 years

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Wedded Bliss and Asterisks (A Modern CS AU) Part 14/?

Emma Swan is an enemy of love who just happens to be an up and coming wedding dress designer. She’s convinced that a fairytale kind of romance is nowhere in her future but when she meets Killian Jones, whose magazine is covering the opening of her new boutique, things change. Suddenly Emma finds herself drawing up new plans for her life, ones that seem to all be leading towards her own form of wedded bliss. Rated M.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven.Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen. Also on FF Here.

A/N: So this chapter is accomplishing two things I desperately wanted for this fic. It’s letting Emma and Killian linger a little longer in that flufftastic first ‘I love you’ phase and it will be getting some more closure for two other couples, one more obvious than the other. I think you guys can all guess which one I am most talking about... Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy what is literally just a chapter of cuteness and smuff. Thanks for reading!

“I love you, Emma.”

Those precious words had been playing in Emma’s mind on a near loop since the moment Killian said them last night, and with a full day gone since that moment (spent almost entirely in the arms of the man who loved her) Emma was amazed at how much she was still feeling. There was no coming down from this high that spoken love brought, and even as she dozed in Killian’s room, recouping after a sleepless night and a lazy Sunday spent together in bed, Emma felt that same undeniable warmth of his words and his promise. They were in this together and they were going to figure it all out side by side no matter what came next.

To be honest though, Emma had kind of been hoping for a bit more of the whole lounging in bed thing. This weekend had been wonderful. Between the beautiful wedding and everything else Emma knew it was one of the best (if not the single greatest) she had ever known. But Monday was growing ever closer and responsibilities would come knocking once more in only a mater of hours. As such Emma felt this need to savor every moment they did have and to enjoy this precious spell of time to the fullest before the real world came calling again.

With that objective in mind, Emma slipped out of bed and threw on one of Killian’s shirts as she set out to find him. In this spacious apartment there were a number of places he could be, but she didn’t have to try too hard to locate him when the wafting scent of dinner hit her nose and she heard a faint murmuring coming from the kitchen. Emma expected to find Killian singing along to some song or other as he cooked for the two of them (something he was prone to doing), but as she got closer she realized he wasn’t singing but talking.

“Alright brother, enough evasion. You want to tell me you called six times in two hours to ask about a wedding for two people you don’t know? I’m not buying it. So just be out with it.”

Emma stilled right before the doorway when she heard those remarks and she let herself wrap her mind around what Killian had just said. Clearly he was talking to Liam, but what was this about six phone calls? And why exactly was Liam so interested in the nuptials of Aladdin and Jasmine? Even as she asked herself those questions, Emma knew the answer: Elsa.

“What’s wrong with me being interested? Emma mentioned it a number of times at dinner. Obviously it was important to her…”

Emma hadn’t expected the call to be on speaker and for her to be able to hear the full depths of this conversation, but she smiled despite herself. Liam was totally lying right now about being interested because of her. He knew that Elsa was making the cake for this wedding and that if Emma was going her friend would be in attendance too. The line of thinking was so transparent and in a way it reassured Emma. Liam definitely had it bad if he was dogging his brother for details.

“You mean it was important to Elsa,” Killian finished and Emma muffled a laugh, loving that the two of them were on the same page with Liam’s denials. She could just picture Killian’s expression right now and it was toeing the line between frustration at Liam’s stalling and humor from his brother being caught up in anyone at all.

“I didn’t say that,” Liam said but it wasn’t convincing in the slightest.

“Didn’t have to,” Killian replied and Emma could hear him moving about the kitchen.

Without thinking she moved into the doorway and leaned against it, watching Killian work to make them some elaborate meal that was totally unnecessary but also very sweet. Emma didn’t announce herself though, instead choosing to enjoy the view of her hot, shirtless boyfriend cooking for her and the interesting conversation being had. Maybe she should feel guilty for that, but she couldn’t seem to muster such a sentiment. All of this was just going to get back to her anyway. Killian never kept anything from her and that thought made her already present smile grow bigger.

“Well now that you’ve mentioned it… how was she?” Liam asked and Emma rolled her eyes. Whoever said men were more straightforward than woman was full of shit. It seemed everyone was prone to these moments of infatuation-induced lunacy.

“From what I saw fine, but her date might have had a better gauge on her feelings.”

“She brought someone?!” Liam bellowed and Emma made a surprised sound that instantly had Killian looking up at her. It wasn’t a look of surprise though and Emma began to realize that she might not have been as sneaky as he thought. Nevertheless Killian smiled and then pressed a finger to his lips in a signal for her to keep quiet as he continued on with his brother.

“What are you doing with her, Liam?” Killian asked bluntly.

“Excuse me?” Liam countered, sounding more frenzied than he probably wanted to. Emma took it as a good sign, however. From everything Killian had said, Liam was never thrown out of whack. He must really like Elsa for a response like this to manifest.

“What are your intentions with Elsa?” Killian specified and Emma felt her heart clench. She knew he was asking both for her peace of mind and for Elsa’s and Emma appreciated that so much. This was his brother he was interrogating, but Killian wasn’t afraid to ask the hard questions and in doing so he proved that loyalty Emma always knew was there between them.

“I hardly think that’s -,” Killian interrupted Liam before he could rebuff him.

“She saw a photo of you and one of your matches in the paper, Liam. She saw it and now she’s second-guessing everything. Honestly if Emma hadn’t been there to give her some sort of guidance, you might have lost Elsa completely already.” They heard a string of curses through the phone but Killian ignored them and pressed on. “You have to tell her, Liam. If you want a chance with her you’ve got to come clean. Assuming you’re choosing her over the others.”

“There’s no choice to make. I told Diana that on Thursday. There’s only Elsa. She’s all I see,” Liam asserted. Meanwhile Killian mouthed ‘matchmaker’ to Emma and she nodded, understanding that Liam had totally severed ties with that hair-brained idea and that he’d done it for her friend. It was incredibly touching to hear, and though it was an odd situation, Emma did believe Elsa would understand or that she could be made to understand if Liam went about this the right way.

“Right. So get your head out of your ass and tell her how you feel. It’s that simple.”

Emma grinned at that and moved around the kitchen counter to step into his arms, wrapping herself up in Killian and enjoying the fact that they’d both finally been able to do that with each other. It was this huge step for her, giving those three words to a guy when she’d never really meant them before, but it was right with Killian and Emma also knew she’d never live to regret it. Hopefully Liam could find his courage and make a move so Elsa got even the chance to consider where she stood with Killian’s brother.

“Ha! Simple? This woman is anything but simple. She’s – she’s…” Emma was pretty interested in this part. She wanted that kind of window into exactly what Liam thought of her best friend, but Killian had other ideas, showing his brother mercy and letting him keep his precious thoughts to himself.

“Not susceptible to your usual routine of bossing people around or throwing money at them, aye I gathered that. So find another way.”

Liam muttered something about not having a ‘bloody compass’ when it came to this whole thing and Emma imagined he meant love in general. He wasn’t wrong though. There was no map to getting to a happy ending, and half the fear and worry that Emma had felt since meeting Killian was centered on not being able to see exactly what was coming. The comfort of knowing the way life would turn out was compromised when you risked your heart, but if you found the right person there was no need to worry. Emma knew that now with Killian and she hoped that Liam and Elsa, if all things worked out, could get to a similar space of trust and faith in each other.

“If that’ll be all brother, I’ve got my own life to get back to.”

“You mean your own woman,” Liam replied in an almost grumpy way.

“Aye, I do. So I’ll leave you to finding your path to your own happiness and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

The brothers said their goodbyes then, and when Killian hung up the call, Emma found herself laughing against him. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly why except that she was happy. Happy for her own situation with Killian, happy for Elsa who was no doubt in store for some kind of romantic attention for Liam, and happy for the fact that things were going so well in her life.

It was really amazing to think how much had changed. It was like one day she’d been this ordinary person living the life she thought she wanted but it wasn’t really clear. Looking back now those memories almost seemed out of focus. She’d had a lot going for her: great friends, the career she always dreamed of, and a rent controlled apartment in Manhattan. But she hadn’t been living in full color yet and to get there she’d needed love, and she’d needed it from Killian.

“Nothing in the world can compare to that sound, Swan,” Killian mused as one of his hands ran over her lower back soothingly and the other came to tilt her head back up to him. The smile gracing his handsome face was so warm and full of unspoken emotion but Emma knew what they all were now and she wasn’t scared of them in the slightest.

“Lucky then that your brother is so funny,” Emma said purposely teasing Killian. “You’ll probably get to hear it a lot because of him.”

Killian reacted exactly the way Emma expected, which was to say with a low growl and a shift of their positions so she was boxed in against the counter and the hard lines of his body were pressed against hers. She heated at the shift in his demeanor, but even if he was all fired up from her words, that love in his eyes remained. Truthfully it never left Killian’s presence, Emma just had the benefit of knowing that was for sure what it was now.

“I know you’re toying with me Emma, but rest assured I have every intention to keep that smile on your face and that laugh of yours coming for a very long time.”

The words, powerful as they were, elicited their desired reaction and Emma smiled at him again, watching Killian simultaneously calm and grow more desperate for her. Emma could feel this growing need between them, but she also saw his appreciation of being on the receiving end of her smile. Never in her life had Emma felt so cherished and so wanted, but with Killian there was no doubt of that. He treated a simple smile like this spectacular gift, and Emma wanted to give him a million more so he could be as happy as she felt right now.

“Well making dinner like this is definitely a good place to start…” Emma said, looking back to all that he’d managed to make for the two of them but she was surprised by Killian’s low laugh. She turned back to him finding his grin ticked up to one side and making him look even more attractive than he’d been just a second ago. She also felt the heat radiating off of him and she instinctively knew that his mind had shifted from one kind of appetite to another and that sudden flash of awareness rushed through her and set her body on fire in the most delicious way.

“We’ll have to hope it keeps, love,” Killian said in a low, taunting voice. “Because I’ve got a rather different taste to satisfy right now and I can promise you won’t be disappointed.”

Emma swallowed harshly, her hands grasping at his chest and earning her another growl. She looked into Killian’s cerulean eyes and saw nothing held back at all. He was all in, all hers, and that filled her with this sense of unwavering want. The next thing she knew his lips were on hers and Emma was arching into him and totally forgetting about anything but this. She expected them to go further right here, but with gruff whispers Killian told her he wanted her back in bed and she wasn’t going to say no to that. They made their way between continued stolen kisses back to where they’d spent most of today and Emma was so riled up she could hardly stand it.

“Much as I love seeing you in my shirt Swan, take it off.”

To call it a request on Killian’s part would be generous, but the command made a huge impact, shooting right to Emma’s core and making her want even more. She immediately responded by indulging him and then felt that same flush of pride that came every time Killian’s eyes were on her. He looked at her like she was perfect, and she believed that she could be. Emma was willing to believe his constant praise when she had his love as the proof. Besides, she found the same kind of perfection in him too and as they’d both already attested, they were in this together. It was only fair that they should both feel this overwhelming need mutually between them.

“If we’re not careful we’ll make this whole dessert before dinner thing a habit,” Emma said as she lay back on the bed and Killian came over her with a mix of grace and raw sensual appeal. Killian flashed that almost wicked look that told her he had a million dirty thoughts running through his mind all designed to pull every last ounce of pleasure for her. She could hardly wait for him to deliver on that, but it would be worth whatever wait would come to be with him.

“That’s hardly a threat when the result is this desirable.”

His voice dripped with raw sex and Emma shivered from those words and then the rough kiss he bestowed on her lips. She was lost in this and in him and then the feel of his hand sliding over her skin. Nothing should feel this new or vibrant when they’d come together so many times already, but the sensations were electrifying and scalding all in one. Emma was familiar with different triggers that made her need spring tight, like the rough scratch of his beard against her skin, or the way Killian’s hands walked that tight rope between a firm hold and reverent worship, but every time Emma succumbed at the same swift pace.

There was no fighting off the onslaught of feelings, and Emma would never dream to do so. Instead she gave way to it and gave into what Killian wanted – her telling him her every need and letting him know when he’d gotten it just right.

“God, Killian, right there,” she panted out when his mouth came to her breast as his hand moved between her legs. The dual stimulation was heady and almost too much, but Killian’s throaty chuckle told her he’d take her so much further and that she’d love every second of it. “Fuck that’s so good.”

“You might very well be insatiable Swan, needing me like this after the day we’ve had, but I’ll take that as a challenge.”

Emma murmured about his loving a challenge before totally losing her words all together. All she could do was close her eyes and hold on, feeling so on edge until he finally let her come apart by his hand. When she’d just started to breathe again he was moving lower, his kisses taunting over her every curve before he settled between her legs and reminded her of his prowess all over again. It was blindingly brilliant and totally hot and Emma tried to ride out every wave of pleasure that the feel of his tongue at her sex brought out and that every nip and suck pulled forth. Soon enough she was crashing again, and the only way she could get this impossibly talented and determined man to come back to her was to practically beg for him to do so. She was aware of her limits, and she might actually die from bliss with much more of his mouth on her.

When he was back above her again, his eyes hot and molten with desire, Emma knew instinctively that he was about to say something. It would likely be incredibly dirty and fantastic, but she had to say something first. She felt this need to remind him of exactly where they stood.

“I love you, Killian.”

Whatever had been on his mind before was gone and Killian reacted to her promise with ones of his own, whispered over and over again as he took her with this forceful kind of love that fed every need Emma had. It was only a matter of time before they fell apart together and when they did, lying there spent together, Emma closed her eyes and tried to capture this moment. It was just too good, she reasoned, to ever be forgotten, and she didn’t come back to until she felt Killian’s hand come brush against her cheek. Her eyes opened then and she readied herself for whatever was coming.

“You’re everything to me, Emma. Every last good thing in my world comes back to you. I wish I could explain it any other way, but there it is.”

“I think that was pretty good actually,” Emma whispered before kissing him again and making a similar vow. And with that, the two of them went and had that dinner they’d skipped and tried to soak up every last second they still had left before returning to the real world once more.

…………

It took a fair amount of effort on Killian’s part to not stare at the clock and will time to fly faster this morning, and honestly the only reason he was even remotely successful was because there were a million things going on at Citizen NY. He couldn’t go two minutes without someone knocking on his door and presenting a new issue or something for him to sign off on, and Killian appreciated the busy work and the problem solving that was needed. If there had been any less call on his time today he’d be in real danger of saying screw it and finding Emma earlier than their agreed upon time.

As it was they were meeting for lunch in a half an hour, and he’d seen Emma just last night after a weekend of certifiable bliss, but it felt like a lifetime. The time without her moved too slow and his home held no comforts without Emma there. Everywhere he looked the memory of her lingered and he found himself frustrated with the fact that they needed any space between them at all. Yes they had their own lives and careers, but it was a cruel twist of fate for him to hear Emma say that she loved him one night and then the next for her to leave.

Despite his grievances about their separation, Killian couldn’t help but grin at the thought of what they’d shared this weekend. His love for Emma had been a part of him for what felt like so long, but to finally know that it was reciprocated… well nothing had ever compared to it. No victory had ever tasted as sweet as winning Emma’s heart, and now there was this never ceasing flow of adrenaline coursing through him. Killian could conquer anything in this state, except for the anxiety that came from Emma being away from him too long. He was just lucky she’d said yes to lunch. He hated to think where he’d be if she’d been too busy.

After a few minutes of quiet in his office, however, Killian’s restlessness got the best of him, and though it would take a maximum of ten minutes to get to Bliss Boutique, he found himself grabbing a jacket and heading for the door. When he opened it though, he stumbled upon a bit of a roadblock in the form of his best mate flirting with the girl he’d finally had the courage to ask out. Will looked plenty pleased with himself right now, and Belle for her part was very receptive though perhaps a little cooler that Will was. Killian supposed he should be happy at least one of them had a care for their being in the work place and in the middle of the hallway to boot.

“So this is how it’s going to be then?” Killian joked, bringing both their attention his way and causing a tutting sound to come from Tink. Killian cast a glance at his assistant who seemed put out now. She was a very big fan of the budding office romance, and she clearly did not appreciate the interruption. “Flirting on company time, and just in front of the boss’ office no less.”

“Oh come on mate, you know you ship it. Hell you were the one who pushed me to action in the first place,” Will proclaimed jovially. Killian understood the last part of Will’s sentence but the first part went right over his head.

“What’s a ship got to do with anything?” he asked and Belle chuckled lightly.

“Sorry that’s on me. I’ve got that piece going on Comic Con and clearly I’ve been sharing the lingo a little too much,” she said but her smile directed at Will was more pleased than anything else.

Killian would have accepted that as an adequate answer and left well enough alone but then Will started prattling on about how Killian was the original shipper and how apparently his investment in Will’s happiness made him a fanboy or the head of a fandom or something or other. Killian didn’t bother trying to track the logic after a certain point, but he did smile when Tink made a joke about t-shirts and a couple name. His assistant was obviously exaggerating, but her delivery was so sincere that Will’s teasing started to shift to discomfort before Tink gave herself away as only kidding.

“Alright you’ve made your point. A little less office-oriented romance or everyone’s liable to get carried away,” Will said, straightening up and trying to appear all business. Meanwhile Belle took one look at him and laughed, no doubt seeing he was totally full of it.

“Oh you know what?” Tink asked. “You guys should go on a double date! That would be adorable!”

“Adorable is a strong word,” Killian countered, but then he thought of Emma’s reaction to seeing Belle and Will in this current state of new found happiness and he wondered if it wasn’t that bad an idea. Emma had really taken to Belle when meeting her before and she’d also enjoyed Will in the times she’d come here to the office. Maybe it would work and prove an enjoyable time. “But then again, why deny Emma the chance to make heads or tails of this ship herself?”

Killian’s words were probably used incorrectly based on Belle’s barked out laugh and Tink’s even wider smile, but he didn’t care and he would made sure to ask Emma her thoughts about this scheme at lunch. Without giving much more excuse Killian departed, leaving them all there staring after him and no doubt musing about his love life. He was fine with them talking though, and he imagined that someday they’d get used to this as the new normal. For as long as Killian had Emma in his life he anticipated things being similarly light and his priorities remaining with her over his old tendency to work, work, work.

After getting out of the office building, Killian moved with purpose towards Emma and he managed to make a quick stop though at the flower vendor just near her shop. In the past he’d gone with the single rose to brighten Emma’s day when he picked her up for such dates, but today he decided to go for something grander. He procured the brightest bouquet he could find (that still paled in comparison to Emma) and then he felt better equipped to find his Swan once more.

As expected, Killian eventually located her in the far end of the showroom, caught up in the hustle and bustle of her day. He’d arrived early in part for this chance to see Emma fully immersed in her work, and Killian was glad for the fact that at first she didn’t notice him. It gave him the ability to take her in in all her splendor, with her hair tied back in a messy bun and clipped together with one of her favorite sketching pencils. She was donning her glasses that only ever made an appearance when she was reading or designing and the sleek, modern cut of the floral dress she’d worn today gave her that final flare of perfect professionalism. Emma was a vision to say the least, and an ever capable one at that.

Killian got the chance to watch her with some of the seamstresses on staff here, giving comment about the exact detailing on the dress before them. It was a stunning creation as all of Emma’s works were, but where Killian saw nothing that needed fixing, Emma’s eyes were trained carefully on the gown seeking out any potential flaws. Her perfectionist tendencies reared their head in this moment, but there was nothing unattractive in her tenacity. On the contrary, Killian was always taken with just how passionate Emma was about creating things that were as close to flawless as they could be. He treated each issue of his magazine the same way, and that drive wasn’t something many people understood but Emma certainty did.

“Let’s go back over some of this beading with one more layer of threading. It needs to be a bit more secure so we can add the sash without any fuss. And maybe with these layers here just the slightest trim. I’m sure the measurements are perfect to what I wrote before, I just think it might -,”

“Add a little more volume?” The older woman Emma was working with asked and Emma smiled warmly at the interruption.

“Exactly. This is definitely a dress for dancing and I think it could elevate it that much more to have a little more bounce.”

“I’ll get right on it,” the woman assured her and Emma thanked her before looking up and finding Killian standing there. Killian anticipated a level of surprise when she discovered him but there was none in Emma’s expression. Instead there was a knowing look that told Killian his presence might not have gone undetected as he once assumed and he smiled back at her, eager to have Emma in his arms again.

“You’re truly a genius, love,” Killian offered when Emma came over to greet him with a kiss and accepted the flowers he’d brought for her. When she took them in hand, Killian watched a blush spread across her cheeks. All this time together and Emma could still get overwhelmed with something he saw as the smallest gesture.

“And you are a life saver,” Emma admitted, pulling Killian with her as she found a vase for the flowers and put them in her office.

“Has my gift some powers of revival I’m unaware of?” Killian asked and Emma smiled, shaking her head.

“No, but you do. I’ve been going a little stir crazy today. It was hard to say goodbye to this weekend,” Emma confessed and Killian moved closer to her, thankful for the fact that she’d closed the office door and he had a bit more freedom to be close to her again.

“I know the feeling, love, and I’ve come to a resolute conclusion,” he said as he brushed a strand of her golden hair that had fallen free behind her ear.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

“I’ve no interests in saying goodbyes to you, Emma. Not now, not ever.”

Killian only had a fleeting moment where he could watch those words sink in for Emma before she was pulling down for a kiss, but he’d seen all he needed to in that brief window. There was that same level of love and adoration clear as day in her green eyes, and the kiss they shared went from sweet confirmation to hungry and needy faster than it should. Soon enough Killian was forgetting where they were, moving her closer to her desk with the goal of taking off some of the edge they were both feeling. But though they’d obviously indulged in some questionable work place activities before, things here were different and Killian never wanted to complicate Emma’s life at her office in anyway, even if fighting to pull back was a test of his control he almost didn’t win.

“If we don’t stop now, we might not get to that lunch I promised you, and I hate to see you go without grilled cheese.”

Emma’s laugh filled the space between them and she agreed that they should probably go. Killian could still see the want to make more of this in her eyes, but he reasoned that if they waited now, he could use that want to his benefit later and convince her to let them see each other tonight too. After her reaction to his confession on goodbyes, he hoped he might be so lucky.

Once back out in the main showroom and headed towards the front doors, Killian felt his excitement for lunch growing. They weren’t going anywhere special, but there was this small diner that Emma had shown him a few weeks back, which was a place they both enjoyed and which provided a level of comfort he was looking forward to. Yet before they could depart to find that quiet moment, something caught Killian’s attention outside.

“Oh bloody hell,” Killian muttered and his words prompted Emma to look through the glass windows outside.

“Is that…?” she trailed off, likely not believing what the two of them were bearing witness to.

“My headstrong, fool-in-love brother? Aye. Strap in love, I think we’re in for something here.”

Killian and Emma stood there watching as Liam went past the main door, presumably to the specified bakery entrance next door with a huge bundle of flowers in his arms and all they needed to do was share the briefest look to reach an agreement: there was no way either of them was going to miss this. They moved quickly towards the bakery from inside where they were, running into Ruby and Mary Margaret as they did.

“Jeez where’s the fire?” Ruby asked but Emma just shook her head and grabbed Ruby’s hand, pulling her along as Ruby grabbed Mary Margaret and dragged her too.

“I don’t think your nosey ass is going to want to miss this,” Emma claimed as she propelled her friends forward and prompted a low chuckle from Killian. The colorful statement was hardly wrong, and as someone who had lived through a few big moments in this shop, he knew Ruby (and Mary Margaret) would be loathed to miss a confrontation like the one that was about to happen between his brother and Elsa.

“Excuse me?” Ruby asked, but the rest of her reply died on her lips when the four of them reached the doorway that stood between the bakery and the rest of the boutique. Coming through the doors outside right now was Liam, appearing out of breath like he’d run the whole way from his office to see Elsa.

At first the object of Liam’s affection didn’t notice his sudden appearance in her shop as she was focused intently in the back where she was working on some sugar detailing. But the indication that something was afoot came when a hush fell over the entire bakery. Even the other customers seemed to pick up something happening, with all gazes turning to Liam, and then there was the dead give away of Ruby’s whispered yell to Elsa.

“Hey, Els!” She said loud enough for everyone to hear, though by Killian’s estimation the only person who didn’t notice was Liam who was too transfixed by Elsa to notice anything around him. Elsa looked to Ruby and then followed her gaze to Liam, her face going pink as soon as she saw him.

“Liam? What are you doing here?” Elsa asked, her hands running over the apron she wore in a nervous gesture as she approached the counter. They were still separated but both of them were as close as the layout of the bakery would allow and their body language hinted that if there were no barrier they’d be closer even than that.

“I’m here to tell you my intentions,” Liam responded and as soon as that word left his mouth, Emma reached for Killian’s hand. He tore his gaze away from the scene before him to catch her eyes, and in those green pools was the unspoken thought that this was because of him. Liam had taken his urging to make a move and state his wants rather literally and as far as grand gestures went, this was a rather interesting one to choose.

“You’re – I’m sorry what?” Elsa asked, clearly not believing him. She was blushing even more now, but Killian had to admit there was something more than embarrassment on display here. Yes, if he was right there was definitely something warmer under Elsa’s shock and surprise.

“I think I love you.”

Bloody hell! Killian thought to himself and he didn’t know whether to slap his hand over his eyes and stop watching or to applaud his brother. It was a ballsy play that was for sure (especially considering the fact that he’d never so much as taken Elsa out), but to take a risk like that in this public of a setting… well a man had to be pretty damn sure of his affections to get to this kind of level.

“Oh my god,” Mary Margaret whispered at the same time that Ruby replied “I knew it!”

“You… what?” Elsa asked, clearly having come no closer to getting her thoughts sorted out than she had been a second ago. Now she looked even more flustered and with good reason. Killian’s brother hadn’t managed any kind of finesse in this. He was blunt as ever and yet the earnestness on display was truly something.

Never in his life had Killian seen Liam this way. He wasn’t showing weakness per se, and he still took up a huge presence in the shop not just from his size but his general aura, but there was this level of awkwardness that Liam never carried. He was gruff not because of disinterest, but because he cared. Truly he cared so much that he’d just admitted his love for a woman he barely knew in front of at least two-dozen strangers, his brother, and Elsa’s closest friends.

“I know you hate me. I know you think that the two of us can’t work and you’ve your reasons for that, but I’m going to prove you wrong. I’m going to show you that I’m the man for you Elsa, and I don’t care how long it takes. I’m going to make you love me somehow because you’re it for me. You were it from the moment I saw you and… well that’s just it.”

As if the delivery of his sentiments wasn’t wild enough, Liam then seemed set to leave not two seconds after he dropped his confession. He turned around as if to go and then realized he still had the flowers in hand. They weren’t a kind Killian recognized, but Emma’s whisper gave him some perspective.

“They’re Bellflowers, like the tattoo on Elsa’s wrist. He sent her about a billion off them last week too.”

Truth was Killian had never noticed that flower adorning Elsa’s arm before. The only tattoo with a similar placement he’d ever noticed was Emma’s, but now he took a look and saw that both Ruby and Mary Margaret had flowers on their wrists as well. He imagined the blossoms had personal meaning to each woman but that the placement had been specific so as to tie the friends together.

“These are for you,” Liam said, handing the arrangement to Elsa who took them gladly and then Liam left them all stunned by going with his first instinct and leaving. It took a second for Elsa to realize what he was doing, but when it hit her she was in motion. Dropping the flowers to the counter and running after him. Meeting up just outside.

Now, usually Killian wouldn’t consider himself the nosiest person. He liked a good story, sure, but he didn’t usually go out of his way to spy on people. Yet he reasoned in this moment that continued watching was fine and perhaps even divinely ordained, since the breeze outside had the door move back so forcefully at Elsa’s exit that she triggered the function to keep the door open. Now their voices wafted through despite their being outside, and the whole bakery filled with people had an unspoken contract to keep quiet and listen in.

“Hey wait!” Elsa yelled and Liam stopped turning around and facing a slightly pissed off Elsa. He looked actually afraid at her anger but he stood there taking it all the same. Elsa came to stand before him and poked his chest before speaking her mind. “You can’t just go around yelling at women that you love them and walk away!”

“I don’t go around yelling to women that I love them. I’ve only ever said it to you!” Liam tossed back.

“Oh he is good,” Ruby acknowledged and Emma squeezed Killian’s hand.

“He’s alright. He could use a few lessons in keeping his cool though.” Emma’s words were clearly aimed as a compliment to Killian and he felt his chest puff out at her words.

“And why is that exactly?” Elsa asked, bringing everyone’s attention back outside.

“Why is what?” Liam asked his voice raised to match hers.

“Why did you come in here tell me you love me and then leave? You didn’t even ask me on a date I mean who does that?! You’re going about this all out of order and…”

Elsa was waving her hands and then at some point she stopped, looking at Liam and muttering something they all couldn’t hear, though Killian guessed it was something along the lines of ‘fuck it.’ Then she stepped to Liam and pulled him down for a kiss that at first stunned Liam. It only took a second though for him to meet her and make this a show for everyone inside.

“That’s it!” Ruby said in pseudo anger. “I’m telling Graham in no uncertain terms that I’m demanding a grand gesture. I can’t be the only one who doesn’t get this. I want my work day crashed by love like everyone else!”

Emma and Killian both laughed at Ruby’s words and now Liam and Elsa had broken apart and were whispering to each other outside. Killian took that as his sign to fully break away and at least pretend at giving them privacy. To do so he focused his attentions on Emma, wanting to know her mind in this moment.

“So, all in all what did you think, love?” Killian asked with amusement and Emma leaned into him, her words rich and warm and said in that lower voice that spoke to her being perfectly content.

“It’s nice to see other people finding love when we already have it,” Emma said and Killian grinned at that before the shrieks of excitement came from Ruby and Mary Margaret. Killian wondered if perhaps the two women weren’t fusing their excitement both for Elsa and for Emma in one reaction.

“Wait, love?!” Mary Margaret asked.

“You told a man you love him?! And you didn’t even tell us?!” Ruby yelled, filling the whole space and drawing everyone in the bakery’s eyes to them but Emma only rolled her eyes and pulled on Killian’s hand to lead him through the shop for their exit.

“Yup. And no I am not canceling my lunch to tell you all about it. You can both survive the hour. Just go fuss over Elsa until I get back.”

Emma’s friends seemed consoled by that objective and Killian breathed a sigh of relief. He liked Emma’s friends plenty, and he remained to this day entirely grateful that Emma had found people like this to have in her life, but they had just narrowly evaded a whole drawn out conversation and he would have been heavily disappointed if he missed out on lunch with Emma.

“Quite a day we’re having,” Killian joked when they stepped outside and took a look at Elsa and Liam who were still standing down the way. Instead of interrupting though, they headed hand in hand in the other direction towards the diner.

“And it’s just getting started,” Emma quipped, bringing Killian’s eyes to her. “Come on, don’t pretend you weren’t going to ask to see me again tonight.”

Killian replied that he would never dare to tell such a lie as he brought Emma in closer and rejoiced in the fact that they both saw things the same way. And with that they set forth into what would no doubt be a glorious rest of the day, because they would spend most of it together with the promise of so much more to come.

Post-Note: In case any of you are looking for some insight into my writing process, I would say that for every typical chapter in a story I write I map about 50 percent of what I am going to do and then wing the rest of it when I finally sit down to write it. This chapter though was a little different. All I knew was I wanted Liam to be super nervous/cute/weird about confronting Elsa and for everyone else to watch and enjoy the fluffiness. This though all came from the heart and it has left me with lots of feels and a renewed love of this story. I hope that you guys enjoyed this fun little romp, and there will of course be more of this story coming soon. Thank you all for reading and I hope you have a great rest of your day!

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Text

Getting to Know Brandon Phillips from Choices by Sheila Bliss

I’m waiting at the coffee shop in Rittenhouse Square in Philadelphia. I’m super nervous. Laurel warned me he’d be intense and his face might make my insides spontaneously combust. She suggested we meet for our interview here at this particular coffee shop because well it holds special memories of a fierce collision her and Brandon shared right here at the back of the store to be precise. In the men’s room to be even more accurate. But I’m not asking him about that. She thought the location might soften him up, make him more malleable to the experience of sharing details about himself. Brandon’s quite tight-lipped unless it’s about his Reds, then you can’t shut him up.

The bell rings above his dark brown waves, and all eyes flip to his. Laurel wasn’t kidding when she said he’d be intense. Everything about him is dark and mysterious even though he’s wearing a simple white t-shirt and torn jeans. And those pale-blue eyes? They ice you out and pull you in at the same time. My mouth is dry, and I almost forget why I’m here. I only want to stare and stare and…

Brandon: “Hey, you must be from The Author Files.”

I know he’s said something because those gorgeous perfectly sculpted lips moved. I just can’t remember what he said.

Brandon: “I’m going to sit here.”

Again, I only stare like a moron. He raises a finger for the waitress to come over. She does, and it seems he has the same effect on her. She can only stare too.

Brandon: “I’ll have iced tea. I don’t like coffee. Unsweetened. Please.” He looks at me. Immediately, everything goes numb. “Would you like something?”

TAF: “Uh…” Finally, synapses in my brain re-fire and I am confident I can formulate sentences again, but I’m not sure for how long so I better act fast. “No, thank you. I’ll stick to water.” The less caffeine, the better, I think. Time to get to work. People want to know everything they can about Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome sitting across from me. “Tell me about your childhood, Brandon.”

Brandon: His face tightens. “I figured Reds told you everything you needed to know.”

TAF: “She did. I thought you could offer some more detail. What was it like to live with what you have?”

Brandon: “It was hard. Enough said.”

TAF: “Okay.” He shut that down pretty quick. “I understand you recently learned something tragic about your parents. Want to share your story?”

Brandon: “You wanna tell me something tragic about your parents?”

Laurel wasn’t kidding when she said he was tight-lipped so maybe I should talk about her. “Where did the nickname Reds come from?”

Brandon: “Have you seen the color of her hair?”

Good point. This interview isn’t going well. “I have, but why give Laurel a nickname at all? Seems childish.”

Brandon: “Are you calling me a boy?” He leans forward giving me a more unobstructed view of those blue eyes; blue eyes now laser focused and hot. “I know how old I am. Laurel had a problem with that too in the beginning. And I will tell you what I told her. There are three things you need to know about me. One—don’t tell me what to think. Two—don’t tell me how I should feel. And three—don’t ever call me a boy. I had to set Reds straight on all that too.” He softens and settles back. Must be my trembling lip. “She has crazy sexy hair. It drives me wild. And I wanted a name for her that belonged to only me.”

TAF: “Why?”

Brandon: “Because I am the only man in her life that matters—that genuinely loves her. A woman like her should be treasured. Not neglected.”

TAF: “Ah, Paul, right?”

He nods.

TAF: “Where is he now?”

He takes a sip of his iced tea and eyes me over the rim of his glass. “Next question.”

I gulp and switch gears. “How’s the farmhouse? You know, after everything that happened there…”

Brandon: “I know.” He stiffens. “It’s beautiful and turned out even more amazing than I ever imagined it could be. But that’s because of Reds.”

TAF: “You truly love her, don’t you?”

His eyes drift to the back of the coffeehouse. “What I feel for Reds is fathomless.” He refocuses on me. “She brought me back to life then she nearly killed me with her lies.”

TAF: “That doesn’t sound good.”

Taking another sip, he winces. I don’t know if it’s because the ice cubes hit a nerve or he remembers something. “It wasn’t. It hurt like hell, but I understood why Reds did what she did. It only made me love her harder.”

TAF: Whew, he is intense, and I need some air. “I’ve taken up enough of your time, Brandon. Thanks for talking with me.”

He stands, my eyes following every long, lean inch of him. I fight the urge to beg him to stay. He fishes out a few bills and tosses them on the table. “Always happy to talk about my girl.” A sly, wolfish grin spreads his lips up. “Just don’t tell her I said that she’d put my ass in a sling.”

He winks and walks away, and I still can’t stop staring.

Be sure to read more about Brandon and Reds' love affair in Choices.

Excerpt

Preface

The angsty tone of my youngest’s voice reverberates through my body, summoning my inner momma bear. He’s whining about the difficulty of making a choice. He doesn’t want to do it. Most people don’t.

At his age, the hard choices involve ice cream. But for grown-ups, it’s a little more involved than picking ice cream flavors. Adult choices involve the ones capable of shredding your heart, ripping your soul open ─ even if those choices protect a serendipitous love. What child understands the concept of making that type of choice? Can an adult?

Ignorance is bliss.

In reality, people slather on avoidance and denial like sunscreen, deflecting the truth so it isn’t absorbed into their pores. If it isn’t a part of them then they’re off the hook.

My sweet, little boy can’t understand why he can’t have all the flavors of ice cream listed. He wants to know why he has to choose just one.

Why, indeed.

I explain to him the importance of picking the one he just can’t live without, the one flavor he dreams of constantly, the one capable of changing his entire day for the better. Watching his eyes relax in peace and understanding I know his choice is made. I only wish mine came as peacefully.

Chapter One

There are things I know about myself. I’m careful, not impulsive and I have a giving heart. I sigh inwardly as I think of these attributes while Kristy prattles on at the party. It’s a heart I don’t save for myself. It’s one I give away too freely, too readily because I want to love so badly and in equal measure, to be loved back just as fiercely.

I scan the expanse, the perfectly-clipped yard in southeastern Pennsylvania highlighted by a glorious late afternoon summer sun looking for him. The boy—I shake my head slightly—the man, the honoree of the party I’m attending, is searching for me too. I know this because his traveling gaze stops and locks with mine. He raises his thick tumbler. Heat seeps into my cheeks and I know I’m blushing. I glance into my glass of Chardonnay.

“Ooh, I haven’t seen that particular look in a while. Wait. I take that back—more than a while,” Kristy says, her eyes penetrating the top thin layer of the skin of my face.

“Shut up. Drink your wine before I dump it over your head,” I warn her.

She giggles and drowns further comments into her glass.

But, I know what’s coming next. Laurel, it’s time. It’s not like you haven’t tried…

“Laurel,” she starts, “it’s been six months.”

Sure enough, the words come fast and a bit harsh. I know my best friend Kristy superbly well as I sigh out loud this time. “Again?” But I find myself nodding my agreement. “I know.”

“You sure about that?” Kristy’s tall, so she ducks to reach my eye level. She drops her glass to her waist and lays a hand on my shoulder. “Look at me.”

I cringe and crinkle my nose but do what she says.

“He’s not going to change. Not unless he wants to. Not unless it’s his decision. You’ve kicked him out and he still hasn’t changed. And we are old enough to know no matter how hard we love, we can’t change someone unless they choose to.”

I rub the arm holding my glass, knowing she’s right. It still sucks to hear it.

“It does feel good again to have a glass of wine without fear of setting him off,” I explain.

The background noise of the party doesn’t seem to penetrate our discussion. It’s always been this way with Kristy, my first true love. And I mean that without any sexual connotations. I love her. We have been through everything together. Come to think of it, I probably should have married her instead of Paul. No doubt, I’d have been happier except there’s something about a six-foot-three broad shouldered, smartly dressed man that curls my toes. Silently cursing myself as my gaze roams the softly lit back yard looking for him, yet again, I chuckle.

“And that’s funny how?” she asks.

I look at her confused, instantly forgetting what she said and more interested in chasing what I’m feeling. “What?”

Snapping her fingers in my line of vision, she orders, “Stay with me.” Kristy takes my glass. “I know how you get when you’re in the sun drinking.”

I lift my eyes to the sky. “No need to worry. It’s dusk,” I say, snatching back my glass and taking a long swallow. The crisp apple and smooth butter taste luxuriates along my tongue, and I can’t help searching for the guest of honor—again—as those simple tastes linger in my mouth. I roll my eyes in disgust. I should be ashamed of myself. He’s years younger than me. Years. The arrogance of my thoughts and desires blooms a deeper burning heat spreading across my cheeks, my neck, and my rapidly growing sensitive breasts. I press my cool glass against the throbbing pulse on the side of my neck.

“Not half as funny watching you struggle with all those self-doubts stampeding through your head,” Kristy points out matter-of-factly.

“I thought I told you to shut up.”

“What are friends for if not to point out the finer things said friend hates about herself and tell her she’s being ridiculous?”

I let the sentiment hang in the air between us taking up space like another guest in our little bubble. And I know she understands the look in my eyes as evident in the strength of her grip on my forearm. “I love you, too, Laurel.” Her head shoots up, and I startle. Kristy’s chocolate browns anchor above and over my shoulder. “But not as much as I’m going to love watching this.” She lifts her glass and tilts her chin. “Brandon, hello.”

“Hello.” Warm and rich, the tenor of his voice washes over me.

I freeze taking stock of the blush simmering deep and turning into a fire, giving a new meaning to the biblical burning bush.

“Well—” she starts, and I am preparing myself to strike out and smack the smirk off her face. She’s going to ditch me. “I’m going to find my Mitch.” She lifts an eyebrow. “Laurel, come find me when you’re ready to go home. Or if you need to tell me you’re not coming home. Either way is fine.” She smiles a knowing smile at Brandon then spins on her heels in a flurry of gray chiffon waves.

Wait. Kristy, I can’t do this. I’m not ready. Sure the skin on my face and chest will spontaneously combust, I lift my glass to my lips and gulp down a large swallow of wine.

“I promise I won’t bite.” He lifts his glass to his thick smooth lips. My gaze travels up to a pair of pale blue eyes reminding me of the first streaks of blue across a morning sky. So pale, so blue they don’t seem real. As if my eyes have a mind of their own, they travel further to investigate the thick mass of messy dark coffee colored waves atop his head.

My fingers twitch, fighting the urge to reach out and run them through the thick locks. Stop that! “That would be embarrassing if you did that here anyway.” Oh good Lord. Please don’t even try to flirt. I never did it well even on a good day in my twenties.

“Here? Maybe. Somewhere private though? I don’t know if I could keep that promise,” he offers with a smirk and a twinkle highlighted by the paleness of his irises.

Shit. No, don’t say it. “It’s beautiful this evening. Lovely party.” Lame. Lame. Lame. But at least my heart stops trying to break my ribcage, and I am able to redirect his attention.

“Only made lovelier by that hair and pale skin.” Maybe not. His body shifts a touch closer, and his laser focus drops on my face, drinking it in. The sincerity laced in the tone of his voice calms my frazzled thoughts and slowly fraying nerves.

I’m not going to lie. I like the attention. I miss it. It flips my stomach inside out. It also makes me want to run into the car and lock all the damn doors where I can hide—protected—as I watch him from the safety of the locked car.

Awkward silence squeezes my gut and pushes small amounts of burning acid up my throat. Yet, he isn’t even mildly affected. Cool. Calm. Collected. Not a bead of sweat on that manly brow.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he demands. And now that I’m paying more attention, as I imagine myself sitting in my safe, locked car, I notice everything about him demands attention: his wide stance, straight confident posture and those heat seeking missile-like eyes. I stifle a groan. For every drop of coolness he exudes equals every drop of sweat coursing down my emerald green silk halter top.

“There was a question,” I gasp, wanting to kick myself for being such a nerd and gasping in the first place. I stroke my throat, soothing the panic rising in it.

“Nervous habit?” Cool fingers reach out and stroke the path my warm sticky fingers did as he adjusts the misbehaving snap of my halter top resting in between my breasts.

“Um…” My murmur stumbles out brusquely, and I can’t stop looking at those eyes, those thick lips. I marvel at how his cool touch makes me shiver but only intensifies the burning bush.

He withdraws his fingers, raises his whiskey glass again, and I allow my gaze to linger on his sinewy strong hand. The bulging, blue veins contrast spectacularly against his tan skin. Taking a small swallow, I watch the liquid work its way down his throat, and I hate what it does to my insides. I have no business thinking about my insides affected by him. When he lowers his hand, his lips are wet, glossy, and I can’t help thinking…

“I wanted to know if biting you here…” He points to the sharply cut grass. “…would actually be appropriate. I think yes. It is my party, after all.” He smiles, revealing perfectly lined white teeth and my skin flushes faster, hotter, deeper. “Because it would really work for me…” A finger reaches out and strokes my pounding heartbeat in my neck. “…to bite you right here where your blood races, but I’m sensing a mixed hesitation on your part.”

The guest of honor lifts his brow and works a killer, arrogant smile as he raises his glass to his lips making me ache in my lower belly while his gaze, his touch, scares the ever living shit out of me. This level of flirting hurts. I’m way out of my league here. Frankly, my name and a league don’t even belong in the same sentence. Technically, I’m still married according to paper and the law, but in the dark of night, when that little voice echoes through me, shines light into the empty black spaces of my heart, I realize I haven’t been married for a very long time. I can only admit that in the dark though. Six months separated does not give me license to flirt, even if I did it badly.

“I have to go,” I blurt. Trying to be graceful as I turn, my heel from the sandals Kristy insisted I wear catches in the hem of my long, white wrap-around maxi skirt.

Strong hands grip my elbows. The contact is soothing, electrifying, and frightening. I can’t breathe. I want to cry I’m so uncomfortable.

“Whoa. Hold on. Not so fast. Don’t run from me yet.” He turns me around and steadies me on my feet, then drops his hands. The absence of his strength strangely disappoints, and I don’t want to examine why.

“Brandon, I─” I begin.

“My fault. I made you uncomfortable,” he interrupts and touches his glass to his chest, and I’m treated to the sight of those strong hands and even stronger fingers. “You never know what’s going to work for a woman.” He smiles broadly. “And I like to go after what I want even more so with women who don’t seem to know the value of their worth. Well, one in particular.”

Wide and open with nothing to hide, his charm, albeit arrogant, rushes a feverish need to uncover what’s constricting my heart and making my blood pound through my veins. “But I should have trusted my gut.” He takes another sip. “I don’t know why I didn’t.”

Inhaling a much needed breath still didn’t stop the words from pouring out, “What did your gut tell you to do?”

“I think I’m a little impatient with you.” His eyes flare, his face grows serious, and the bottom of my stomach drops into my sandals. “But to answer your question, I told myself she doesn’t know how beautiful she is. Go slowly.” Brandon shifts closer to me and looks down into my glass. “Interested in a little more liquid courage? You look like you could use some right about now.” Smirking, he takes my glass. “Don’t go anywhere.” Leaning in, he whispers in my ear, “I’m only going to bite if you say yes. You’re the one in control.” He pulls back, his gaze roaming my face. “I just thought you needed to know that.” Clasping my hand, he raises it, placing a feather light kiss to my knuckles. “You look a little hot, Reds. Maybe you should get out of the sun?”

Watching him make his way to the bar, I rub my ear. Now warm and slightly moist, I realize how much I hate the word slow. The sun? Bastard.

#Choices #Sheila Bliss #Character Interview #Excerpt

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lets-develop-stuff · 7 years

Text

The Hole

Moments ago, there were screaming lights, pens scratching on rough paper, photographers sauntering, and the snapping of latex gloves that doubled as a sickening air-freshener. The white dust was dancing around the room but now it’s dead. The room is motionless except for my hands, which can’t even stay still long enough to hold my glass of water. The silence is broken when she walks in. Her keys rattling in the lock for a second sounds so familiar but I don’t get up to let her in, nothing else will be the same anymore. “Hi, honey,” she chirps as she drops her keys on the side table, “how was your day?” She doesn’t wait for an answer before I hear the click of her heals on our newly tiled kitchen floor. God, she begged for that renovation, said they were easier to clean and what not, and with the baby she didn’t want any dirty accidents. I stay seated and say nothing. She can’t even sense my worry. . I’m going to have to do a lot of talking pretty soon and there just isn’t anyway to lead up to it.

Click, click, click. I hear her head towards the stairs, the banister creeks just a little in a way I’ve never noticed before. “I picked up some chicken for dinner, I was thinking we could get rid of those peas, you know?”

Click, click, click. “Hey did you manage to call Cheryl back? You can make up any excuse; I just know that if I talk to her we’ll all end up going. I mean, we have a six- month-old for Christ’s sake, what does she think we can bring him to a five-star restaurant and expect him to stay quiet?” She chuckles.

Click, click, click. “Uh, honey, where’s Ethan? Did you wake him up early again? You know that means he’s off his sleeping schedule.” She makes her way down the stairs and stops in the doorway.

“He’s not here anymore, Cathryn.”

“What do you mean, Cal? Where is he?”

“Cal, you’re going to bring me to tears, where is he?”

“Cal?”

“Where did they take him?” she whispered.

“What?” I reply, slightly taken aback.

“Oh god, Cal! I should have checked! I thought I heard something last night, remember? Call the damn police!”

“Honey, there’s nothing they can do. It’s just us now.” I’ve already signed all the dotted lines. They took my statement, and told me they’d contact Cathryn at a later time. He told me not to worry, that accidents happen and it looked like a pretty open-close case.

“You can’t make this a personal job, ya know? It’d drive you crazy. Speaking of personal, with cases like these we don’t offer any statements or anything, okay?”

I nodded.

“We try to protect your privacy and all, the only people we speak to are you and your wife, sir, so I strongly suggest you keep this hush hush or one of you’s gonna break down.” He made it sound simple and it was almost comforting. Almost.

“Fuckin’ right it’s just us! Come on, Cal, we’re leaving NOW.”

She doesn’t understand, I think, it just gets harder. I reach out for her hand but she swings aside and I catch her arm instead. She looks back at me. Her eyes still glossy, her cheeks flushed and little beads of sweat are dancing in her hairline. She feels weak in my hand, as if I squeezed any harder she just might break. I pause for a moment. I need to tell her she’s wrong. I need to tell her he’s gone. Our baby, Ethan, can’t be found. I need to tell her there was no sound last night, not even the breath from our bundle of joy, but I can’t. “I’m getting you a coat, Cathryn, I’ll meet you outside.”

The next morning I lay in bed awake, like I had all night. I felt like a performer, stripped of his passion. I’m still breathing, but it’s all a show, I’m not really alive. Not on the inside. There are always complaints about their efficiency but I’m sure the police have called Cathryn by now. I shut my eyes for a second. Brace yourself, I think. The door slammed shut: she’s back.

“Still nothing,” she unraveled her scarf and tossed it on the bed, “I searched the street, there’s no tire tracks on our driveway either.”

She slumped down beside me. I blinked twice. Jesus, they are slow. “Get some rest, Cathryn.”

“I can’t just rest when he’s not here, Cal!”

“Well your exhausted self won’t find shit. I’ll look for a while,” I turned to see her already asleep. I don’t go looking of course, I know exactly where he is. I should really leave the house anyway but I’m too tired. I thought waiting would give me time to find the words but now I’m even weaker than before, I still can’t tell her. I haul myself out of bed and wobble all the way down the stairs. I made it to the living room. I clicked on the morning news. I felt my eyelids get heavy and I stopped listening. It was hours before my gaze left that screen but I can’t for the life of me remember anything that was said.

That night I got Cathryn’s coat and we searched the closest park, the next: a further one, after that every night was the same. I would get Cathryn’s coat and drive around the city until she asked me to pull over. We’d carry flashlights down alleys and spend the next day with black bags under our eyes. When it was my shift to look I’d wait to hear the deep inhale of Cathryn’s sleep driven breathing. Then I’d open the door she never did and sit in the rocking chair next to Ethan’s russet crib. Back and forth, I’d rock, back and forth. It was days before I did anything else in there, but I needed more. Being in there just wasn’t quite satisfying anymore, so I went into his crib and unfolded his soft blue blanket right into my nose. The very second those indulgent fibres hit my skin sweet baby smell rushed into my lungs and filled my entire body. I breathed deeper and deeper until I hit the climax of bliss. I exhale every last bit of breath I have to make room for the only thing I have to feel but the blanket unravels in my hand and I hear the innocent tinkle of ordnance hit the floor. Bliss flees my body faster than it rushed in. I kneel down and pinch a diamond between my finger and thumb; it’s sharp edges indenting my skin. This was half of a pair of simple delicate earrings that I bought my wife when we found out she was expecting. They were the pair she wore just a few weeks ago when her parents took us out for dinner to celebrate her birthday. They were the pair she wore when she kissed baby Ethan goodnight that evening. They were the pair she forgot to think about that night when one went missing. It was that earring that soothed Ethan to sleep as he clenched it in his tiny fist, and it was that earring that ended up blocking his airway until they removed it from his esophagus. This is the earring I’ve been worried Cathryn would go looking for, only to realize the truth. I held my breath to stop the vomit from making its way out. I trooped to the front door, yanked on my jacket, slipped the breathtaking diamond into my pocket and walked down our quiet street, until I hit the noise of the city.

“Cathryn, Sweetie, wake up,” my hand brushes a mass of her frail hair from her face to the pillow, “I need to talk to you, Cathryn.”

“What, Cal?”

“I think I found something, let me get your coat.”

It was during my shift one morning that I asked a pimply teenage boy wearing an oversized customer service shirt outside a gas station if he’d seen any suspicious activity in the area. I gave him a quick description of Ethan. My speech came out clear and fluidly. I’d delivered it to almost everyone in the area and my confidence usually warranted dedicated attention. But this kid, he just looked at me and pulled out a cigarette.

“I’m on my break, man.”

“This isn’t exactly a transaction, kid. My son is missing.” Just a glance and the flick of his lighter.

“How old are you?” I asked. He inhaled. “Don’t you know how bad smoking is for you? Why even start habits like that?”

He ignored me. Some people live in denial. Everyone chooses what they want to believe in.

“There was a guy, a little while back. Looked kind of... I dunno, sketchy,” he mumbled. After hours of following a loose description, Cathryn and I stopped to regroup.

“How do you even know he’s not just being an irritating little teenager getting a kick out of us for following his bullshit lead, Cal? This is ridiculous, we’ve been looking for hours.”

“You’re giving up?”

“Shouldn’t we? It’s been almost a year, Cal. We wouldn’t even recognize him if we did find him.”

“You can give up, Cathryn, not me,” I spat, “he’s out there. I know you can feel it, and giving up is not the parent I ever wanted to be.” I turned my back and waited for Cathryn to follow but I heard her start the car instead. She’s going home. At some point she’d lost her will to find our son. One day she was wildly convinced we would find him and the next she was angry, or hurt, or tired, or whatever. Now she was idling in the car, waiting for me to jump in beside her as if she already knew I would, like I was playing some sick game and she already knew my next move. Even the wind was cold against my face, making it hard to walk forward and leaving my skin red as if just smacked. For a moment I thought of doing just that, whirling around to climb into the passenger seat, turning my back against the biting wind. I tightened my jacket closer to my neck and pushed my hands deep into my pockets. I felt a sharp edge, the curve of a cut diamond. My chest stiffened. My fingers dropped the earring back into its place, but my eyes caught a glimpse of shine as it fell to my feet. I shoved my hand deeper into my pocket, and my pinky finger slid right through the bottom seam. There’s a hole in my pocket. I looked back at Cathryn, still idling with the window drawn looking exhausted.

“Cathryn, I’m just not ready to stop looking.”

She exhaled, and her fists tightened on the wheel. She turned and looked at me like a mother about to tell her child that no matter how many times he asks, he’s not getting that toy. Instead her gaze shifted to my feet. Shit, the earring. I stepped on it in hopes that she couldn’t remember, but of course she would. Brace yourself. She winced and one by one she released her fingers from her grip on the wheel.

“You’re right, Cal. We’re here for each other and it’s just us now.” “We have a better chance of finding him together. But I need a new coat.”

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