#if you wish to inflict your music taste on the world | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fullsunalicia · 4 years

Note

loved rags and riches!! if you have time, could you also write a chenle version, like a crazy rich asians au or like a chaebol au? thank you!

broken hearts club — ZCL

it’s been a long time since someone has touched zhong chenle’s frozen heart. he’s closed it off to the entire world and dedicated it to his music and the empire that he’s going to inherit. somehow though, there’s a girl with a weakness for puppies who manages to light a match for the ice clump that sits in chenle’s chest.

zhong chenle as astrid leong - kind of. :-) i hope you enjoy love. thank you for requesting. <3

Over the years, the map to Chenle’s heart has been destroyed and burnt. Many have tried to recover it, retrace the steps as they try to remember. Not one person comes close, as the only thing Chenle loves is the music and the puppy he was gifted by his favorite cousin, Renjun.

The people call him a narcissist. His family calls him lost.

He calls himself Zhong Chenle. Nothing more, nothing less. He likes sitting together with his band mates and share several bottles of soju. Whenever soneone speaks chinese with him, it sounds like music to his ears. In Korea, far from home, the only chance he gets to use his mother tongue is with Renjun, and Chenle likes it like that. He couldn’t be further away from home, and all the pain that household has brought him.

Some would kill to be in his place. The only heir to a billion dollar sum, and even richer on his own. A famous musician who’s climbing the charts and breaking records everyday. Yet money has always been a curse to Chenle. It gave him heartbreak, distrust and emotional distance to everyone who’s ever been close to him. Chenle’s heart has frozen over, as cold as the arctic, the ice prince of the Zhong family. That’s what his parents have always wanted, anyways - his ex girlfriend out of their eyes, so that they could marry Chenle off to God knows who. When she had cheated on him, they have waited for Chenle with open arms to come back home, just to stab him in the back themselves.

A beggar. That’s what his mother had called Suyin, the only woman he’s ever loved.

Choi Suyin had carved out his heart and locked it in a chest, far away for anyone ever to reach. Like Davy Jones, only that Chenle has never betrayed. He was Calypso, heartbroken and full of fury, bound to his bones. Doomed to roam the world forever, without feeling anything. Detached from reality. It felt like Chenle was standing inside of a glass house, with no way to escape, only ever being able to look out. He recognizes the sorrow and the pain that’s coming to come crashing in someday and wreck him. But there is no way to ever set him free again and honestly, he isn’t even sure if he ever wants to. Love has ruined him; it has ruined his perception of people and of himself. Suyin had wanted him to make her a princess.

He can’t make her something she is not.

The whispers follow Chenle down the hall whenever he is home, though that’s a rare occasion. Fool, they murmur. A blind man. Almost robbed. If he could, he’d smash the glass of his cage and use it to wildly stab around, willing to hurt anyone who gets in the way. He wants them to feel, to suffer what he endures all day and night, a never ending nightmare. The torture of the shining jewelry, sent to him by his mother, serving as a silent reminder of what is waiting for him when the family forces Chenle’s hand and makes him return.

The ghoulish wedding that awaits him. Chenle counts the days, prays that he finds the key to the locker he never wants to see again. Dread fills him at the mere prospect of romance, but he’d rather be in pain for another thousand years instead of being married off like some worthless thing. Like his career never meant something, only some ploy of entertainment, never serious to his parents. It’s all about business, never pleasure, never happiness. To think about the company is more important than to think about your mental health. If that turns you into a psychopath, you’ll just have to make a business idea out of it and see where it gets you.

Therapy to the Zhongs is alcohol, and income. That was the very first lesson to be learnt. It’s deeply ingrained into his soul, and no matter how much time Chenle wastes at his attempts, he cannot wipe it away. Even for music, his first and true love, his mind goes to the sales first instead of the talent the song can pull out of him. Will his voice attract buyers? How should he dress to seduce the crowd? It’s all just a show, and all the roles are casted by him. What a show it is, though.

From the distance, it looks perfect. No stage fright, only elegance. The closer you get, the more you realize it’s a circus. Chenle is the biggest clown you’ll ever set eyes on.

The road to his heart is harsh and frozen. Maybe the damage is too great that anyone will ever be able to walk upon it again. But you’re willing to take the chance.

Chenle looks down as you pet the little Samoyed behind his ear, big smile on your lips. Honest; unusually so. He’s too used to choking on the sugar that keeps dripping from peoples’ lies. And here you are, jumping from stone to stone on the way to his heart, like you’re crossing some river. And you haven’t even looked at him yet.

“This dog is absolutely beautiful,” you hum, the happiness in your voice thrumming inside his head. Pleasing to listen to. “So beautiful, aren’t you? Of course you are. Pretty baby...”

You’ve taken the words out of Chenle’s mouth, but they weren’t exactly for Chan. If he was another man, he’d tell them to you. Because he isn’t, he’d rather choke on them than speak them aloud.

“He really is.” Finally, you look up. Your eyes are as pure as your mouth, see-through, easy to trust. It makes alarms ring in the ice prince’s head, and he’s pulling up the bridges to the castle in panic. He doesn’t know how you managed to do that with one look, and he honestly doesn’t want to know.

He can’t afford to find out. He can’t. Chenle is still reeling from the wound Suyin has inflicted him, running as deep as the ocean, straight through his heart. A cruel metaphor for cupid’s arrow. Still, you make Chenle want to pull it out and offer it to you. Curious whether you’d drive it back in, or break it and set him free.

The hope blooming inside his chest makes him wish for the latter.

Your beauty is already alluring just the way it is, but when your lips curve into a soft smile, you break all the viewers’ hearts in the loveliest way. It’s brighter than any jewel Chenle’s ever set eyes on, and he has already seen enough to last him a lifetime. Sick of them, actually. For you, he’d be willing to try and search for one that matches your radiance. “Love dogs too much to resist,” you admit. “I apologize for caressing the pretty boy out of the blue, but I’ve never been able to turn away from puppy dog eyes.”

“Me, too.” Chenle sinks into a squatting position so you’re both on eye level. It physically hurts to watch you blush. It hurts because he can imagine being the old Chenle who’d ask you on a date right here and there. Careless, without any worry in the world, he would take your hand and offer you the world like he had with Suyin. Because money is a burden, but it only became a curse the moment Suyin had conquered him just to enrichen herself. Become a Zhong, a legend. Have it all and spend it all. She never understood that love is more powerful than any money’s worth in the entire world. “Though that makes me a bad dog owner, doesn’t it? It gets kinda hard to be strict with him when he looks at me in such an adorable way. My baby..”

Chan presses his fuzzy head to Chenle’s palm. The only one in this world who’d ever love him just for being him. Chenle smiles and scratches the back of his baby’s ear, pleased with the rumble Chan lets out at that. Both dog and owner know the other like the back of their hand. You watch the wholesome interaction, the kindness in your eyes makes Chenle soft.

Right now, you’re knocking at the doors to his heart, begging to be let in like in The Princess and the Pea. He forces himself to turn away.

He’s a masochist, but this is too much for even Zhong Chenle.

“Never had a dog again after mine passed away when I was sixteen.” Your voice is a little bit distant now, hollow. Detached. Your heart has been broken in a different way than his has, but the pain is very similar. Chenle recognizes himself in the way you wrap your arms around your own frame, as if you’re trying to hold yourself together. To force the broken pieces to stay in place. He wants to tell you that you’re never going to be able to do that alone, but he’s too much of a coward who doesn’t trust anyone in the world. Not anymore. “Hurt too much. Felt like a betrayal. I still love dogs more than anyone else, but I think I’m just not ready to adopt another one. At least not in the near future.”

Chenle agrees, though you’re talking about two seperate things. He needs to quit love, like an addict checking himself into rehab. It’s a must, not a neccesity. Though it makes him sick to the stomach, he forces himself to stick to the company procedure. Business before pleasure. Business before anything.

❀ ❀ ❀

Love has never hurt you before. Never have you brushed hands with death and decay the way Chenle has, but you see it in his eyes. The passing ghost of a lover who once was. Where should be warmth is steel, the protective shell of a man who wants nothing to do with the world.

But how stunning that man is. Of course, your entire attention had been on the dog first, but when you locked eyes with Chenle - what an experience! The taste of heaven in one look. Sharp features, as dangerous as knives. Unruly dark hair, the color of the sky at midnight, colder than any breeze that’s ever shaken you up. You don’t believe in love at first sight, not in destiny.

Still, you came so close to it. You saw where the universe breathed life into Chenle. The shaping of dying stars and the brightest burning suns. He’s both Pandora’s box and the golden fleece in one. All you had managed to coax out of him was his name, and of course the one of the dog who you spent ten minutes playing with. You’ve not known about Zhong Chenle before, but you certainly do now.

The only son of his prestigious family. World renowned musician, the critics call his voice that of an angel. Of course he is an angel. Have they seen him? Instagram spits out more information than you’d expected to receive, but here you are, reading an article about his ex girlfriend.

Definitely not creepy or anything.

It’s certainly a explanation. The illness-ridden soul of a man so young, he is still clinging to adolescence. Grief is a terrible disease. You weirdly feel like you’ve stepped into a room where people had been arguing, and now the awkward silence is weighing heavy on you. You’d desperately like to walk out, but something keeps you there like an invisible anchor. The lure of someone as gorgeous as Zhong Chenle, with the promise of secrets as sacred as religious scrolls.

You wonder if you would be going too far if you followed the guy on Instagram. That face is too pretty to miss out on. But there’s also your curiousity that keeps drawing you in, makes your mind wonder and wander off to the countless possibilities of who Chenle is who he is. You need satisfaction to bring you back, or you’ll just stay a dead, curious cat.

One that definitely drops her phone on her own face when she sees that the mentioned more-angel-than-man has followed her back. The man has two point three million followers, for Christ’s sake! There would be no way for him to randomly pick you out from the countless names that fill up his notifications, right? Wrong.

There’s a private message waiting for you as you accept his following request.

[07:27pm] @zhcl: i see you found the pictures of chan already.

The tabloids speak of zero interest towards any other person that’s not family or bandmate. So why, pray tell, does Chenle indulge you?

You grasp the opportunity, anyways. You want to find out what lies behind the ice, waiting to be discovered.

[07:33pm] @yn: i was quite distracted by the handsome fellow that photographed him, though.

[07:34pm] @zhcl: very smooth, miss (y/n). were you blushing when you typed that?

[07:34pm] @zhcl: you look too cute to be taken serious when you do.

[07:35pm] @yn: flirting, are we?

You felt the chill when Chenle had spoken to you. The hidden danger behind a calm voice. Still waters which hide deadly sirens. You know now that he was hurt, terribly so, and it made you feel guilty about your interest in him. The world had treated him badly and here you were, acting like it was nothing. You clutch your phone, ready to be heavily told off and the follow to be retracted.

Your heart almost stops when your phone vibrates, the ring tone suddenly much too loud.

[07:39pm] @zhcl: is it working?

❀ ❀ ❀

Chenle’s mother never changes.

When he enters the house, several servants swarm him to help with shoes and jacket, but he passes them all. The hall is cold, freezingly so, unusual for his mother who seems to fuel the open fire with wads of cash. This is the house he’s grown up in, too big for the warmth of love and affection to be felt inside it. The family members too far away from each other to even interact, like stars in the nightsky. Related, but never touching, never in contact. When they do, it detonates a violent supernova, and that never ends good.

Chenle still remembers the smashed glasses at the end of the family event, thrown against the wall by a Huang cousin who’s name Chenle would rather choke on than ever speak again. A Huang, but not of Renjun’s siblings. A bastard, that’s what he is. He, who usurped his father’s power and wastes all his money on sex, alcohol and entertainment. It’s a blessing this guy will never inherit the family business, though he pities Renjun for having to do it. Just as much as he pities himself.

When Suyin had left, the people had started gossiping. Spreading rumors, spreading hope. The ice prince is on the market again, ready to be courted, to fall victim to a woman’s temptation. His parents had spent eternity dragging Suyin’s name through the mud, because she was just an ordinary girl. Not rich, not poor. She works the graveyard shift at a diner and sometimes helps out in her dad’s restaurant for some extra cash. Fashion enthusiast. Homewrecker. The poor girl that was left at the altar because of Suyin - he’s seen the engagement ring on her finger, and he knows what it means to that particular Huang.

Absolutely nothing. The means to an end. A way to keep some more money because of taxes that are shared as an married couple.

To Chenle’s parents, Suyin could have very well been living under a bridge. His mother wishes to wed him with a princess, royal born, not made. Merge companies with people she trusts and strip ressources of. Birds of a feather. Truly, the marriage of the century. Too bad that Chenle only marries out of love. Too bad that’s the thing he’s sworn off for the rest of his life.

His mind punishes him instantly for that lie, your face flashing infront of his inner eye.

Sweet (y/n). It’s a little embarrassing how quick he jumps at his phone at any sign that you could’ve responded, and it scares him to no end. You scare him, with your good intentions and charming smile. When you had agreed to meet each other again, Chenle had let himself be dragged to a café of your choosing. There’s still the lingering taste of coffee cake on it.

Your kiss still burns on his cheek. Never forgotten for a second. A constant reminder.

As clear as day, the memory plays out in his mind. You had looked up to him while he tasted your pastry of recommendation, head lost in the clouds. You’re always thinking about something. You have the same look in your eyes as the one in Renjun’s when he searches for words that can’t be put in the same context as Suyin.

“You know who I am.”

You had stealen his fork and scooped up your own share of the cake. That was rather cheeky of you, paying for the dessert even though Chenle was already getting his wallet out. You’re stubborn. “I’ve heard of you,” you had told him. After listening to so many untruths all of his life, even your honesty starts to hurt in his ears. It makes him uneasy. “But that doesn’t mean I know you. I would like to. Will you let me?”

Not once had you looked scared when Chenle’s hands had turned into fists, the veins on them becoming prominent. The sight of a tortured man who’s trying to keep it together. A face that’s mapped out with sorrow and anger and betrayal. “I could hurt you. I’m afraid there isn’t much left to get to know. I’ve thrown it all away. Did you hear of that?”

You had started cutting the cake in pieces, long lashes caressing your skin as you look down. The wish to touch you had hit him so strongly, it almost shocked him. Chenle leant forward and accepted the fork in his mouth while watching you intently, finding pure satisfaction in the way roses bloom in your cheeks because of it. Eye contact makes you shy. To you, it’s sensual. You lowered your gaze. “I did.” The fork scraped against his teeth. You took another bite on your own and this time, your eyes never left his. “But I enjoy a good treasure hunt here and there. You look precious, Zhong Chenle. I’d like to look for the pieces with your permission.”

Chenle was so certain his heart was dead, its’ last beat defeaned by the wood it was kept in. Despite that, he had felt the jolt as it spurred back to life, making Chenle believe it returned to him, and the fear that comes along with it.

You’re dangerous, like playing with fire. You instilled the desire to be burned inside an ice prince, and that is too much power for one person to possess. So why does he make no effort to stop you?

“Chenle.” The voice sounds too polite for a mother. She descends the stairs, expression neutral, the walk of a queen. In another life, she’d certainly be one. “Qin ai de. You finally came. I was getting rather tired of calling your phone the past few months. Where have you been?”

Avoiding you, he wants to say. Running away from this castle that’s too vacant and lacks the love to be called a proper home. This is a prison, and you’re the warden dragging me in with chains.

But he doesn’t. Chenle slips into the good son role and lets himself be hugged, even though the embrace is void of any warmth. “Busy,” he responds. “I’m a working man, mom. Singing is a career, you know, despite how much you’d like to ignore it. There must be a reason you supported it so much in my childhood days.”

“That’s exactly the reason, son.” His mother begins climbing the stairs again, an unspoken order for him to follow. Chenle suppresses a sigh and begins climbing, too. It’s only noon, but he already feels drop-dead-tired. “Because it was your childhood. I didn’t expect you to turn your back on an empire to play the singing fool for some teenage girls. I suppose that has its’ benefits, but it’s also rather sad to only see my son in the news and not in person. This is your home, Chenle. We’re not going to crown you emperor the second you step back into this threshold. You’ll take over the company when you want to, even though we’d welcome an early decision.”

Bile rises in his throat before Chenle can stop it. Venom, it’s all venom, and you’re the cure. He only has to get through this. Just a day, and then he gets to see you again. “Sure, mom,” he manages to answer. “I’ll think about it.”

“I didn’t expect you to visit. We have company, you know. They’re both quite lovely, though you’ll like the daughter more.”

This is the reason Chenle refuses to be inside this house for even a second. The looming threat of an arranged marriage. No one’s going to force him to take over the company, but his mother would rather take a bullet than ever allow a Suyin ever again. Even if she looks and talks like an angel that goes by the name (y/n).

The entire time, Chenle is silent. He doesn’t even try to acknowledge the fact that his mother is a terrible wingwoman, and a good way to pass the time is to imagine your face, retrace it in his memories. You, insisting to pay, because it’s “your treat”. You, who never steers the conversation somewhere he doesn’t want it to go. The strawberry blush that makes him want to kiss you until you’re breathless.

You’re a threat, (l/n) (y/n). The closer you get to Davy Jones’ keys, the more he wants to push you away and never see you again. At the same time, Chenle wants to go on his knees and beg you to set him free of this locker.

Nothing could have stopped him from taking the next plane home. His bandmates pick him up, but he’ would have liked it to be you. What he doesn’t like is the look in Renjun’s eyes, the man who is Chenle’s kindred spirit. Renjun knows too much. He saw too much. A shared childhood is both blessing and bother.

“Tell me about (y/n).”

“Absolutely not,” Chenle shoots back without hesitation. “See you, Renjun.” With a quick swing, he tries to force the door closed, but his childhood friend wedges a foot between wood and wall and lets himself in.

“Very reactive to that name, aren’t we, Chenle?” Renjun hums and drops on the couch. He accepts the whiskey Chenle hands him, but cusses the second the younger’s hand meets the back of his head. “You do that again and I’ll strangle you, Zhong, friends or not. Now tell me about the damn woman already.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Because you’re a coward.”

“Yes, I fucking am.” Chenle doesn’t usually curse, but talking about you is a weakness. He doesn’t love Suyin anymore, absolutely not. The years have passed and changed him, whether that’s good or bad. But not his wounds, not the injury done to his precious, ice-cold heart. He’s so afraid of being used, tossed aside like an old toy you don’t want to play with anymore. With just a few actions, you’ll be able to tear Chenle down and ruin him forever. He’s barely stitching himself up from Suyin’s attack and now here you are, pleading to be let in. The desire to allow that is immense, so enourmous it makes him lightheaded.

He won’t survive another girl. Not with this kind of life, with his circumstances, with his upbringing. Love him most or not at all. That is all Chenle can offer you, and maybe that’s unfair. But being just has never helped him with anything, and it certainly hasn’t stopped Choi Suyin from ramming her high heels into the shattered pieces of his broken heart as she walked away.

Renjun watches him over the rim of his glass. Silent, but not in the way where he has to think about not wounding Chenle with his words. Just ... confused. Right now, Renjun is offering advice, not shelter. “Chenle, give yourself a break. You’re human. You’re bound to fall in love someday.”

“Not if I can stop it.”

“You’re not a robot,” Renjun hisses, suddenly volatile, and the loud slam of his glass hitting the mahogany table makes Chenle flinch. Not what he had expected. “I’ve watched you rot for years now, and it has done nothing good for you. I am trying to help you, Chenle, trying to save you from drowning, but you’re thrashing around like a mad man. If you continue like this, you’ll sink yourself to the bottom of the river. Do you want to end up like that? Do you?”

The younger man rubs his eyes, tired. It’s been so long, so unbelievably long since hollowness hasn’t ruled over Zhong Chenle. His parents would never approve of you. It’s going to spike another family war.

Quite frankly, he doesn’t give a fuck.

After a few minutes of some peace and quiet, Chenle finally stands up. He rounds the table separating him and Renjun and bows down to hug him, the suprise evident in Renjun’s eyes when he leans back. “You’re a good friend, Jun,” Chenle tells him. His chest feels light. Maybe it knows that the familiar weight of his heart is returning to it. “A true friend. Thank you.”

He leaves his childhood friend on the couch, his mind already far away, in a place where he can put the keys into your hands without fear. Without hesitation.

They belong to you.

❀ ❀ ❀

“See something you like, Zhong?”

Caught in the act, Chenle looks up and meets your eyes. It would be rather disrespectful to comment on your thighs right now, but if the circumstances were different, if you were already his, he’d tell you all about how good they’d look around his waist. Nonetheless, he only shrugs. “That’s a pretty skirt. Shame I’m going to ruin it by throwing you into the sea.”

“Dont you dare!” Your threat is far from being taken seriously, but Chenle is only teasing you, anyways. You’re light on his arms, more doll than human, and he likes the feeling of you clinging to him for safety. It’s weird - warmth and feeling returning to him. It has been winter inside Zhong Chenle for eternity, and now that he’s pushed open the gates, he feels like he stepped into another realm.

Your skin is warm below his touch. If you dislike his arms wrapped around the back of your thighs, you’re certainly not complaining. The walk to the beach is quiet, except for the squeaks and laughs you let out when he intentionally stops and pretends to fall. “You’re impossible,” you mumble when he sets you down on the picnic blankets.

Excuse you? You’re the one who looks like they just fell down from heaven.

“Is there any reason you decided to kidnap me? Because I didn’t get to see Chan one last time, and that is utmost treason. I demand to see my lawyer.”

“You can see him later.” Chenle tugs you closer. Can you feel his heartbeat below your hands on his chest? The sound is so foreign. Since he accepted the fact that you’re a weakness he can’t ignore, he’s been experiencing arrhythmia non-stop. His heart is just not supposed to be there. An ice prince shouldn’t be able to be melted.

He’d really like to see someone who would withstand you, though. You are heaven and hell, in the shape of a mere human, light as a feather in his arms. There are not many in this world who can claim to have Zhong Chenle wrapped around their little finger. Truth be told, only one person has been able to say that. Now, you’ve snatched away the reigning title, and you’ve deemed Chenle’s lap to be an appropiate throne.

Never would he have assumed that you’d do it on your own accords, but Chenle isn’t complaining. He almost purrs when you straddle his lap, soft skirt pooling around your legs. He screws his eyes shut and tries not to think about the lack of clothes between you two.

Scratch that, you’re a devil. And you are fully aware. The giggle you let fall from your lips doesn’t really sound innocent. He wishes to shut you shut you up with a kiss. What he would give to be in a private room right now.. A dark corner... “What’s so funny, (y/n)?” Chenle mumbles before his thoughts can drift further.

“Just how easy you are to fluster.” You laugh again, not even hiding it this time. The wind breezes through your hair, messing up the curls in his place. Are they as soft as they look like? Chenle wants to find out.

“You mean like you are?” He kisses your cheek as you turn red below his lips. This is what love should have felt like. Freedom and carelessness, not the constant need to look over your shoulder. As easy as breathing. As calm as the sea. The keys to his heart are falling from Chenle’s grip, and he’s not sure he even wants to pick them up.

It’s so easy to let go when he looks into your eyes and sees his future.

“Chenle,” you whisper. His shirt crumples in your grip, but he doesn’t care. Chenle lets himself be tugged closer, his own heartbeat jumping erratically, still unused to being out of the box. The ice floes are melting. You’re breaking him free. When his lips finally meet yours, he forgets all about the years he wasted on irrational sorrow. There should be regret about how he’s denied himself of emotions and the world, but you wash it away with all the hope you’re giving him while your lips move against his. You taste like an antidote.

His parents will never accept you. They’ll have Chenle’s head on a plate and deliver it to a family of their own choosing, one they deem perfect as their in-laws, but he counts on you to fight them back, just like how you’re fighting your way into his heart. You didn’t need the map, you wrote your own. You didn’t need a fire, you used your soul.

The key turns in its’ lock. It’s a perfect fit, just like you.

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shipaholic · 4 years

Text

Omens Universe, Chapter 11 Part 1

Oof. Busy day at work today. Resume! The boys have something to talk about...

Discussion this chapter of magical injuries, and we get our first big swear.

Link to next part at the end.

(From the beginning)

(last part)

(chrono)

---

Chapter 11

Aziraphale’s upturned face was full of hope. He opened his mouth to speak.

Crowley held up a finger. Aziraphale’s mouth snapped shut. Crowley had no idea what his own face must look like, but the sight of it caused the light in Aziraphale’s eyes to snuff right out. The angel swallowed and stared at him.

Crowley tried to collect himself while experiencing twenty-two emotions in the span of ten seconds.

In a cracked voice, he said, “What. The Hell. Are you doing here.”

Aziraphale’s hands wrung together. “I’m so sorry to drop in unannounced,” he said.

He sounded sincere. As if a lack of manners was the issue. Crowley made an undignified noise.

“It must have given you quite a shock. If there was some way to contact you beforehand -”

“I didn’t need another of your notes.”

There was a horrible pause.

“Qu-quite.” Aziraphale looked pale. “Um. Perhaps I should explain?”

An explanation. Crowley flashed back to the day he’d returned to the bookshop, shame-faced and heart-bruised, and found it dark and empty, summoning circle cold for hours, and that one sheet of paper on the bureau addressed to him. His stomach dropped away.

“I came back, because… because I had to see you. The thing is…”

Aziraphale’s lip wobbled. Then it burst out of him like a dam exploding.

“I couldn’t do it, Crowley! I couldn’t sit up there and smile while they all counted down to Armageddon like it was New Years’ bloody Eve. I want no part in any of it. They were going to give me a regiment and - Crowley, I can’t do it. Killing for them, seeing you killed. They’re looking forward to getting to melt the Earth down to a slag heap. I can’t even comprehend it. I’ve seen the world they’re so keen to duplicate down here, and it’s awful, Crowley. Seventy-eight years of Singalong Sound of Music, you have no idea. I can’t take an eternity of that. I thought I had no choice, I thought I had to stick it out, but it got to today and it was all too much and I just had to come and find you. I’ve been an idiot. We should have done this from the start, when Zadkiel wanted to. He was right all along, and I was wrong. We have to escape. This world is going to end, no matter what, but it doesn’t have to be the end for us.”

Nothing could have prepared Crowley for Aziraphale bursting up to him and suggesting they go on the lam.

He managed a croaky, “You what?”

Aziraphale took a step towards him. His eyes held a feverish glow.

“We can do it. I’ve thought it all through, and it’s possible. If we act now. Flee into space, live as a fusion. Heaven and Hell won’t be able to track us. Besides, they’re going to be busy with everything down here. We can have our pick of where to settle down. Er, where’s nice… Alpha Centauri, say? I’m sure I’ve heard you talking about it.”

Crowley said, “Nnng.” It was all he had left.

Aziraphale came closer. He took Crowley’s hand. Crowley stared down at it as if it wasn’t attached to him.

“Will you please come with me?” Aziraphale said.

Crowley forgot what breathing felt like.

Aziraphale noticed something. He glanced down at their joined hands.

“Crowley, why are you wearing one glove?”

Crowley remembered what breathing was. He sucked in a lungful of air. Aziraphale’s face dropped at his expression.

Crowley made a strained hissing sound. Tears leaked out of his eyes and streaked down his face, under his sunglasses. Shit. Shit.

He scrubbed his face. Aziraphale made a soft noise and reached for him.

“Get back. Don’t you dare.”

Aziraphale turned white and backed away.

Crowley shook, face hidden in his hand. Everything was upside down. He didn’t know how to even voice everything he’d felt over the past seventy-eight years. What it was like to cram all the love he had into a box and bury it and go back to work, and keep going back to work, every single day.

“How fucking dare you pull this. I never thought I’d see you again. You abandoned me. You got scared, and you fled and you left me alone. Ran right back to that supercilious lot without a word. I’m sorry you haven’t been enjoying their company these last few years, that must have been really hard for you. I’ve been down here with Hastur and Ligur and half of Hell. I’ll tell you something, I’d rather see them right now than you.”

“Oh, goodness. Crowley.” Aziraphale’s eyes filled with tears. “I thought I was saving your life.”

“Saving my -?” Crowley barked a laugh. More tears came. “What kind of -”

He had to pull his sunglasses off and wipe his face. What was the point in dignity when Aziraphale looked at him like that?

“What happened to your arm, Crowley?”

It hurt. Crowley didn’t know why, but his arm was in more pain than it had ever been since it first happened. He clutched it, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Can I see? Please?”

Why not. The glove felt as though it were compressing the wound, making it swell with pain. Crowley fumbled with it, forgetting he could just miracle it away. Maybe he didn’t want the dramatic reveal of baring it all at once. He peeled the glove down, ignoring the way Aziraphale’s eyes widened.

It looked appalling, he knew. His arm was withered from the elbow down, drained of colour and white as a corpse. Cracks in his skin ran all the way along his forearm; unnatural gaps, as though his arm was pieced together from shards of pottery. Gold shone through them, a strange effect that was not quite liquid and not quite light. It was the colour of angels.

Crowley didn’t understand why the pain had spiked. The injury was old. His jacket covered most of it, luckily. Aziraphale’s face was bad enough as it was.

“My poor Crowley.” Aziraphale reached for his other hand. Crowley let him. He let himself feel the warmth of Aziraphale’s thumb stroking the back of his hand.

“Turns out fusing had some extra perks,” he said, attempting levity.

“What do you mean?”

He might as well tell him. He cleared his throat.

“I was in SoHo. It was… I dunno, nineteen-sixty something. I planned a heist. Got a whole crew together. I knew it was dangerous, but I wanted insurance. Even with you gone, I was afraid Hell might poke around and find the last thousand years’ lunch receipts or something. Figure out I’d got a bit too chummy with an angel. So I hired a team, and we did the job. It was in a church. It went wrong.”

“What were you stealing?”

“Holy water.”

Aziraphale’s thumb stopped moving. His breath trembled out of him. Then he resumed stroking Crowley’s hand.

“Oh, Crowley. If I’d been there. I’m so sorry.”

Crowley had to look away. “Didn’t kill me though,” he said. “I think all the fusing must have made me immune. Slightly. It just… burned.” He winced. It was still burning. His arm and heart hurt in equal measures. “I went home and licked my wounds - figuratively, I don’t want a withered tongue - and I’ve been trying to hide it from the rest of my side ever since. Don’t have a very non-treasonous explanation for it.”

“That must have been so hard. All those years.”

“Well.” Crowley shrugged one shoulder. “What was one more secret?”

He felt exhausted. Whoever said confession was good for the soul hadn’t talked to demons.

“You’re probably immune to hellfire, too, a bit,” he said. “Don’t go testing it, obviously.”

Aziraphale shook his head. Crowley fiddled with his sleeve. He hoped he could cover up soon. Looking at the gold seeping through the cracks in his skin for too long made his eyes go funny.

“I wish I could take all this back,” Aziraphale said.

The pain was subsiding a little. Rather than constant agony, it came and went in waves. Crowley still didn’t know why it had spiked. Looking at Aziraphale made it worse, a fact that hurt almost as much as the physical pain.

“Why did you do it?” he asked, dreading the answer.

Aziraphale’s movements stilled. He sighed.

“I thought I needed to. It was the only way to keep us safe. We couldn’t trust ourselves around each other. Someone had to separate us, and I thought it should be me. I thought I was being noble. It was cruel. I’m sorry.”

Crowley was right. Hearing that didn’t make him feel any better. He didn’t feel worse, either. He’d settled on slightly numb. He wished he could say the same for his arm. It throbbed like poison.

The pain must have shown, because Aziraphale looked concerned. “Is it still bad?”

“Fnn.” Crowley squeezed his eyes shut.

“What’s causing it? It’s not…” Aziraphale sounded suddenly alarmed. “Is it reacting to me? Because I’m an angel? If the wound was inflicted by Heavenly means - oh dear -”

Crowley gritted his teeth. He forced himself to look at Aziraphale. The angel’s wretched expression stung his heart. Some mean, hurt part of him wanted to make Aziraphale feel worse.

“It’s not because you’re an angel, Aziraphale. It’s because I’m angry. At you. I haven’t forgiven you. Seeing you just. Hurts.”

Aziraphale flinched. Crowley felt a wave of vindication. Then he just felt sick.

For a while, no-one spoke.

Aziraphale muttered, “Psychosomatic.”

“Bless you,” Crowley said irritably, ignoring the burst of foul taste in his mouth.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. Rolled his eyes -! Crowley was so outraged he temporarily forgot all the other things he was outraged about.

“It’s not just a physical injury. It’s emotional. You associate it with me… abandoning you. Well, I’ll tell you what, you old serpent. I will never abandon you, never. If you’ll let me, I will stay by your side, from now until the end of everything. Which I’m hoping won’t be today. I love you.”

Aziraphale moved closer. There was a determined, blazing look in his eye.

Crowley tried to splutter about demon and feelings and don’t pull faces at me, you bastard, but lost every word in his head the moment Aziraphale pressed closer and kissed him.

They never. Quite got around to doing that before.

A turbulent ocean fell suddenly calm.

Crowley’s arms had fallen to his sides (useless lumps, if they were house-plants, he’d put the fear of him in them). He realised, through the haze that had settled around him, that the pain in the right arm had soothed to a dull sting.

Aziraphale’s hands were on his face, holding him like something precious. Crowley whined. Then he blushed so hotly his head was in danger of melting. He rallied his mutinous arms and wound them around Aziraphale’s plump shoulders.

Time swum, deliciously.

Aziraphale shifted. He broke the kiss, but still leaned his cheek to Crowley’s. Crowley felt as if he lacked any say over his feet or tongue, but did his best to stay upright and form sentences.

“You - ah. Hn.” Going well. “You said you had a plan?”

The unangelic gleam in Aziraphale’s eye was mesmerising this close up. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

Crowley wetted his lips and got distracted utterly by recent memory. “Alpha Centauri… ‘s pretty nice this time of year…”

Aziraphale’s face lit up. Crowley took in the love and joy beaming from it and tried to keep a lid on his emotions for both their sakes. He failed.

“Crowley… are you saying you’ll come with me?”

Crowley didn’t trust himself with words. He nodded.

“Yeah,” he managed. “Why not? I like space.”

His happiness was such that he didn’t even kick himself over that line. He suspected he was grinning like an idiot. Might as well commit to the madness fully. He bent down and kissed Aziraphale first this time.

An unknowable amount of time passed.

From the doorway, someone coughed.

Crowley and Aziraphale froze. Their lips unstuck, with a noise that rather burst the bubble of romantic frenzy from moments ago.

Crowley’s eyes flicked past Aziraphale’s shoulder.

An unimpressed eleven-year-old Antichrist was watching them.

There were probably a few ways this could be a bigger fiasco. Probably. Crowley took a half-step back and tried to straighten his clothes out.

“You’re not dead,” Adam said, flatly.

Aziraphale turned and tried to smile. “Erm -”

“And you -”

Adam looked Crowley up and down. Crowley felt that he was being seen right through to his very demonic core. He resisted a panicked urge to fling himself out of the window.

“You’re normally a snake,” Adam declared.

Crowley cringed.

“And imaginary,” Adam added, accusatory.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Crowley said, pointlessly, because he wasn’t entirely sure what it did look like.

Adam gave them both a shrewd look. “It looks like you’re my imaginary friend and you’re a magician I murdered, and you’re planning on running away together into space.”

It was hard to dispute any of that. Crowley opened his mouth to try.

“Can I come?” Adam said.

“What? No.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered.

“Are you aliens?”

Crowley glared at Adam, trying to calculate a response. “Why…?”

“Space.” Adam gave him a look, as if it were self-evident. “Plus, you can shape-shift.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered, insistently.

Crowley turned to him, hoping he had a brilliant suggestion.

“Is that the Antichrist?” Aziraphale stage-whispered.

Crowley rolled his eyes so hard they sprained. “Yes, that is the Antichrist,” he hissed back.

Adam scowled. “You sound like my mum.”

“Look, er.” Aziraphale tried another smile. “I’m terribly sorry about earlier, but this really isn’t… anything. We were just joking around, you know, and…”

“I know everything’s messed up,” said Adam.

There was a pause.

“What do you mean?” Crowley asked.

Adam shrugged. “Everything. I know… I know stuff isn’t normal. The stuff that goes on in this house isn’t… how things are supposed to be. I’ve had enough of it. I want to go with you. I’d rather live in space.”

Aziraphale shared an uncomfortable look with Crowley. Crowley decided this had gone on long enough.

“Go to your room,” he said, and snapped his fingers.

Adam stayed where he was. He folded his arms, implacable. He was a five-foot barricade, as impassable as a steel door.

“That won’t work, he’s immune to occult persuasion,” Aziraphale murmured to him.

“Oh, now you’re the expert?”

Adam took a step towards them. They leaned back.

“I want to see space.”

Crowley wanted to see space, too, and he could feel it slip from his grasp the more time they wasted arguing with an eleven-year-old.

“Fine, you can come,” he snapped.

A grin split Adam’s face in two. “Really?”

Aziraphale’s head snapped around. “Really?”

“We’ve got between here and Alpha Centauri to ditch him,” Crowley muttered to him.

“I am not kidnapping a child, Crowley!”

“How are you kidnapping him? He’s kidnapping us! Besides,” Crowley lowered his voice further. “Armageddon can’t happen without him. If the Antichrist isn’t on Earth…”

Aziraphale caught on. “Maybe it never happens.”

Crowley still had it. Temptation accomplished.

Aziraphale bustled up to Adam. “Welcome aboard, young man.” He shook Adam’s hand.

“Thanks,” Adam said. He’d forgotten about the whole manslaughter debacle already, by the look of things.

“Now, stay close.”

Aziraphale peered along the corridor. He beckoned Adam and Crowley to follow him. Crowley brought up the rear, wondering how all this had happened to him.

On the way out, they ran into the American cultural attaché. He waved vaguely to Adam as he passed.

“Merry Christmas, son,” he said, sounding a bit uncertain.

“Bye, dad,” Adam said, distractedly.

They left him behind and went out the front door, all three acting as though they were in very different spy films.

As they snuck across the lawn, with maximum drama and minimum stealth, Crowley remembered something.

“Hey,” he said to Adam. “Did a giant dog ever show up?”

Adam looked at him as if he was talking nonsense. “No. I haven’t wanted a dog in years.”

“Cool, cool. Just wondering.”

~*~

In the shrubbery, the enormous and poorly concealed Hellhound put its tail between its legs.

It didn’t understand. It was made for one purpose. If its master didn’t want it, why was it here?

It crept from the shrubbery, far less conspicuous than the three beings it was following, and stalked across the lawn towards the street. It would stay in its master’s shadow, out of sight, until he decided he wanted a dog after all.

---

Musical interlude x2! This chapter has a soundtrack. For Aziraphale’s perspective of the last seventy eight years, go here!

Then, the boys duet about their feelings here!

---

(Link to next part)

#omens universe fic #omens universe #good omens #good omens fic #ineffable husbands #steven universe #omg poor Dog #I feel so bad for him #anyway Crowley's injury was a little based on Pink Pearl's #in terms of how much of it was physical vs psychosomatic #it definitely hasn't gone away #it just hurts more when he's associating it with Aziraphale's abandonment #I did a half-hacky thing by making his arm look like kintaro but not directly referencing it #anyway Crowley and Aziraphale get to share their brain cell with an 11-year-old child from now on good for them

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sophiainspace · 5 years

Note

The five stages of Mick and Len: punching, ignoring, making out, more punching, dragons. -flarrowverse shipyard promptathon, Coldwave (brownies if you show Lisa being Done™ with the pair of them)

“That was bracing,” Greta says, slouching down onto Lisa’s bed. “Why’s your brother in such a shitty mood? And where’s - the other one, what’s his name?”

Through her open bedroom door, Lisa can see Lenny sulking so hard, it’s obvious from five feet away. If she hadn’t guessed it from the way he’d just snapped at them to turn the damn music down, she’d have figured it out from his slumped shoulders, from how he’s practically curling in on himself as he heads slowly down the stairs.

He’s sad.

“Mick.” Lisa shrugs. “They’re in a phase. Hey, what about this one?” She holds up another CD.

Greta scrunches up her big, deep brown eyes. (Lisa tries to ignore how cute she is. This is a challenge.) “What do you mean, a phase?”

Lisa puts the CD case down. Clearly they aren’t going to be listening to Belinda Carlisle while Greta’s being curious.

Admittedly, Greta’s always curious about Lisa’s life. She bombards her with questions - about why she lives with her brother, why that other guy lives with them, why her brother is so hot... (The last one made Lisa ewww and slap her on the arm.)

And once, about where Lisa’s parents were. But only once.

Lisa wouldn’t put up with these dumb questions from just anyone. Just this week, she may have kinda slapped Tonya Beeching a little bit, for telling Haspira Ahuja that Lisa is the worst kind of trailer trash - her brother’s been in prison - and she doesn’t even have a mom.

Greta’s the only one who gets away with giving Lisa the third degree.

(She’s trying not to think too hard about why that is. Really trying.)

Lisa shrugs. “They go through these stages. Right now they’re at ‘ignoring’. I dunno, it’s really predictable and boring,”

Greta purses her warm red mouth. (Lisa might have stolen that lipstick for her. It looks great on her, though - so it was totally a good deed.) “Are him and your brother, like, together together?”

“Duh.”

Her friend’s eyes widen. “I knew it!” Conspiratorially, she wriggles in closer to Lisa. (Lisa’s probably just imagining this feeling of her heart racing. Of her skin tingling where Greta’s hand brushes casually across hers.) “How long have they been together for?”

“Oh, forever. Like, as long as I’ve known Mick, I think. Years and years.” And she doesn’t really want to talk about her boring brother and his boring boyfriend anymore. Still, Greta’s handling the idea better than Lisa thought she would.

(That’s more exciting than it should be.)

Greta settles back against the headboard. She’s got an arm around Lisa, now. (Lisa’s heart kicks up another gear.) “He’s really cool.”

Lisa feels her nose wrinkle. “My brother?”

“Nah, Lenny’s just annoying. I mean Mick! He’s got that motorbike and the leather jacket, and he looks like he goes to the gym...”

Lisa hums. “If you promise not to tell a soul at school, I could tell you a thing.”

Greta’s eyes get wide. Her arm is tighter around Lisa now. (Lisa never wants her to let go.)

She leans in and whispers in Greta’s ear, “He’s an arsonist.”

“A what?” Greta whispers back.

“He sets things on fire.”

Greta’s squealing can be heard all the way downstairs. They know because Lisa’s annoying brother calls up the stairs for them to please keep the noise down, again.

—

“I can’t believe you two are at ‘ignoring’ again,” Lisa complains, as she passes Len on her way to the food cupboard. “You make shit coffee, by the way.”

Len blinks down at the cup of coffee he’s just retrieved from the filter pot. Sure, it’s a bit burned, but he wouldn’t call it shit. It may not be as good as Mick’s, but—

“Also,” Lisa adds, with her head now in the cupboard, “you should call him.”

He blinks at her some more. “That’s a lot of information at once, Lise. Shall we start by unpacking ‘at ignoring again’?”

She sighs, liberating a bag of chips and coming to stand next to him while she crunches on them. Loudly. “You know. You and Mick. You have these phases. Like, at least five of them. First you deck each other - and by the way, it’s shit of you and I do not approve, but at least you’re both shit together...”

Len calmly reminds himself that most of Lisa’s shortcomings are the direct result of things he didn’t teach her. So really, they’re his own fault. For example, avoiding hypocrisy. “Didn’t you hit that girl last week?”

Her scowl is terrifying. Len nearly backs away. “Tonya Beeching is a bitch who can go fuck herself. And I’m not dating her.”

“Cute. Mick and I aren’t dating.”

As expected, she raises her eyebrows so high he worries she’s going to pull a muscle. “Oh, is that right?”

He shrugs, amused enough to keep humoring her (and, if he’s honest, a little curious about the other four phases). “Go on.”

She crunches another chip, leaning back against the kitchen counter. “And then there’s phase two - you start ignoring each other - that’s the phase you’re in now. And Mick moves out and goes back to wherever the hell he lives the rest of the time, which, where even is that? Does he have a good stove there?” Len suppresses a snort. “And he’s gone for, like, months, sometimes.” She pouts, probably unintentionally, and Len feels his eyebrows draw together.

It hadn’t occurred to him that someone else was also missing Mick.

He bumps her shoulder with his own. “Okay. What are the next phases, hmm?”

“Easy,” she declares, hopping up onto the counter and kicking her feet against the cupboard doors. (Well, Len can just replace the hinges.) “The next one is making out.”

“...What?”

“Oh, don’t deny it, Lenny.” She grins. “You think I don’t see you, but I’m not a kid, and I do occasionally notice when you’re both holed up in the same room making up for lost time, and not even being quiet about—”

He puts a hand up, because that’s all about he can take of that. “Thank you, Lisa. I think I get the idea.” Over her laughter, he asks, “Phase four?”

She scowls again. “More punching. And you should stop.”

And somewhere in this conversation, something inside him has dropped from amused to... wishing they hadn’t started talking about this.

Len knows his and Mick’s relationship is screwed up. They’re fucked up people, both of them, and they weren’t exactly raised to talk about their feelings. They were mostly too busy learning to stay out of the way of assholes who should never have been allowed to inflict themselves on children. And kids in juvie who wanted to kill them. And kids at school who wanted to kill them. And people on rival crews who wanted to—

Okay, so the ‘people who want to kill them’ thing has always been a theme. And he’s not agreeing with Lisa, okay - but somewhere along the way, they settled into patterns.

You can only trust yourself.

Hit before they do.

Don’t talk about it.

Never admit what you mean to each other.

And - fuck it, Lisa might be right.

With a start, he realises he’s watching her, while she makes faces over her cup of coffee. And when exactly did she become this observant? He turned around one day, and his baby sister was a canny almost-grown-up with too many opinions and a smart mouth. A little too much like him... but better.

If there’s one damn thing in his life he can be proud of, it’s making sure she had the closest thing to a decent childhood that he could give her. He’s a shit brother, but he’s still a better parent than one or two other contenders he can think of. And, he thinks, staring at this almost well-adjusted young woman, maybe that’s worth everything he went through to get her there.

He sighs. “Okay, smartass. What’s phase five?”

“Fire,” she says decisively, like she doesn’t even have to think about that one. When he raises an eyebrow, she says, “Or theft - if you’re the one apologizing. Grand gestures, anyway.”

Len’s eyes are rolling before he can stop them. “Oh, that is not true.”

He gets a doubtful look back. “You stole him a fancy crystal dragon last month.”

And, yeah, he did. It was a tacky piece of shit, but Mick loved it. Just more proof that Mick never had any taste. If it’s about fire, he’s in.

Or... if it’s about Len.

“Five phases, huh?”

“Yup. You’re currently in phase two. It’s annoying.” She’s pouting again, and this time he thinks she knows what she’s doing. “You could just skip to phase five and apologize in your own stupid way, but you’re too fucking stubborn for that. Him too.”

There’s silence, other than the splatter of rain against the window.

Lisa shifts closer to him.

Nothing good ever came from looking at his shit with Mick too closely. He should walk out of here. Stop talking about it.

Except that he misses the moody, impulsive bastard. Maybe he just wants him back.

He takes a breath. “So tell me, Miss Motormouth with the dumb ideas. You really think I should just jump to... phase five?”

She grins at him. And, oh no. Her eyes are sparkling like when she was six years old and wanted something shiny, and was getting ready to wheedle it out of her big brother.

He’s never been able to tell her no.

“Fine,” he says, on a sigh. He points a finger at her. “I’m not asking you for advice on what to steal for him.”

She damn well beams. “Don’t, then. See if I care.” She jumps down from the counter, heading for the door.

And then he has a thought. Something they’ve danced around before, as if Lisa’s looking for advice. And he’s failed to give it to her, because he’s nothing if not a deflecting asshole. Plus, it’s not like he catches her out of her room much these days - she’s fifteen, after all. So he’d better get the thought out before she disappears back in there for another half decade. “Lise?”

She munches loudly on another chip. “What?” she asks in the world-weary tone of the teenager.

He turns back to the coffee pot, starting to fix a fresh filter. “Learn from my mistakes.”

The crunching stops. “Huh?”

Len doesn’t look up. “Tell that best friend of yours that you like her like that, before you look up and find it’s fifteen years later and you can only communicate through punching, ignoring, making out, punching again, and... dragons, apparently.”

“Oh please,” she says, drawling almost as hard as her brother, and walks out of the kitchen.

A second later, she calls back, from halfway up the stairs, “We’re smarter than you two dumbasses. We’d skip right to arson.”

He decides not to ask which of them, in this scenario, is the arsonist. It’s probably safer that way.

Flarrowverse Shipyard prompts (still taking them, all usual ships! As usual I can’t promise I’ll write every prompt, but I’ll do my best)

@flarrowverse-shipyard

#acesnek #dccoldwave #young coldwave #leonard snart #lisa snart #mick not actually pictured #prompt fills #my fic #ficlet #the flash fanfic

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malereader-inserts · 5 years

Text

Six Feet Under

Fandom: Avengers Pairing: Steve Rogers x Male!Reader Summary: Help, I lost myself again but I remember you Word Count: 1,086 A/n: Inspired by Billie Eilish “Six Feet Under”

Steve had a big heart.

And you were the darkness that would darken his heart, ever so consuming.

Steve had never really believed in soulmates. Like having this one person who’s the chosen one for you. It just seemed like something that couldn’t ever happen. And then he met you. Everything he ever thought about soulmates changed. He just knew you were the one. He felt so happy he met my soulmate and we would live happily ever after.

Then you left. And everything he thought changed again. He still believed in soulmates. That there is someone out there. He just doesn’t think there’s a person out there for everyone anymore.

He thinks there is no one out there for him.

But, yet, he hopes you’d return. He’s lost himself again, he finds himself awake replaying every happy memory with you again. And when he would fall asleep he would dream about you and even his subconscious was completely infatuated with the way that you looked at him. Steve was sure he was losing his mind.

You broke up with him, you could never agree on anything any more. You found him reckless, you saw him as self-centred. You took Tony’s side rather than his during the accords, hearing you say the words to him had cut him deeply. You were supposed to love him, stand by his side, for better or for worst. Disagreements lead to arguments which lead to fights.

You were a plague in his mind, anger had inflicted the pair of you and you couldn’t stand it any more, it tore your relationship. He wants you back, but he knows it wouldn’t turn so good.

He just wonders if you still remember things about you because he can’t get the little things about you out of his head. He remembers your favourite colour and the music you love to jam out. He could recall your favourite characters from your favourite show and also rate which takeaways are your favourite. He would still be able to recite your favourite flowers, favourite season and favourite book with reasons.

He remembers your favourite fruit, and even though he hates it, he’s going to eat it because he hopes you’ll come back and maybe you’ll kiss him and maybe then he’ll be your favourite person again. He remembers your favourite song, and when you’re gone he’s going to listen to it a million times. He remembers how you always sang the song under your breath, and how that made his whole day.

He remembers how the world seemed less broken when he was with you. When you’re gone he’s going to break himself apart every single day hoping that maybe you can bring the memories he has inside of him to live.

He knows your love is six feet under.

But, he can’t help but wonder, if your grave was watered by the rain would roses bloom?

Could that spark rekindling between you?

He sits at the table, staring at your face at the projection. It smiles back at him, he feels warm when he looks at your picture, despite the big title of you missing. You were unfortunate to be a victim of the snap, Steve shouldn’t feel anything, but he misses you. He misses you so much, no matter how much he wishes he could forget the way your kisses taste, no matter how he wishes to forget to have you touch him again.

The skin to skin contact that he desperately wants from you, it was all getting too much for him and yet no matter how much he tried to convince himself that he doesn’t need you and that all these memories should all blow away. He’s grasping for dear life, blaming you and when he was at fault of hurting himself with cruel memories.

He hates knowing that there was a time it was you and him against the world.

He despises knowing that you would have gone to hell for him and he would have stood by your side, holding your hand, and burnt alongside.

He loathes knowing you wouldn’t even bat an eye about him.

There was a small hope within him, maybe when you return and he saves the world again, you would find him. You would hold him tight, you would run your hands through his hair like you always do, he would take in your musk and appreciate your presence.

He’s losing his mind.

He could hear your voice in his head, little commentary judging his choices. He sees you in his vision, watching every move he makes. You’re not there, you’re dead, you were turned to ash, he witnessed it with his own eyes. He reminisces how his voice broke when he calls out your name.

He was a broken record, repeating your name till it sounded like it was no longer real. Almost foreign.

He’d give anything just to be with you again. But, it’s not the right time. It’ll never be the right time and that’s the hardest part of love.

He’ll get you back, but not in the way he wants. Perhaps he’ll die saving the world, then he could be at peace because ultimately he would have guaranteed your return. He’ll die a happy man knowing you would be alive and safe. You’re weren’t his anymore, he doesn’t have to worry about who will hold you tight at night.

He wouldn’t have to worry about your little pet names reserved for someone, it won’t hurt him anymore to hear them escape from your lips and refer them to another member of the team. He won’t have to stress about you anymore, because you love another and that will never be him.

Steve would die, a numb death, because the pain of you looking at him no longer full of love was much painful than the world crushing him.

He sits on the edge of the bed, the side you use to occupy. His elbows resting against his knees and his face stuffed into his hands. He wants to cry, break down, but he could feel your ghost hand rubbing his shoulder blades, he could hear your distant voice cooing him and smoothing out his doubts.

You’ll always be the bravest man Steve Rogers has ever met.

But, now, he sits by himself in a quiet room, in which it’s silence is the loudest thing he could hear.

Loneliness.

It’s a reminder that in the end we’re left infinitely and utterly alone.

#steve rogers imagine #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x male!reader #Avengers #avenger imagines #avengers imagine #angst #x male reader

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welllpthisishappening · 5 years

Text

All was Golden in the Sky (3/27)

Magic is dying.

Emma knows it. She can feel it, the emptiness rattling around in her, like it’s trying to make sure she disappears as well. What she doesn’t know is what to do about it, because, suddenly, there is a man in Storybrooke claiming she’s the Savior and a seeress certain a prophecy promises the same and the last thing she expects is for her minimal amount of lingering power to pull her away.

To New York City.

And another oddly familiar man with blue eyes and a smile that sinks under her skin and makes magic bloom in the air around her. Things are about to get interesting.

—-

Rating: Mature Tag List: @kmomof4 @shireness-says @profdanglaisstuff @captainsjedi @thejollyroger-writer @winterbaby89 @melsbels @tiganasummertree @jennjenn615 @idristardis @cssns AN: The minions are coming! And they’re snarky! And have good taste in music! Honestly, bonus points if anyone can tell me what they think the second song played in the bar is. Also Will Scarlet is in this chapter, so, you know I’ve got thoughts and feelings about that. I also have thoughts and feelings about you all clicking and reading this mess of words which I continue to be real excited about. Stuff’s starting to get action-packed and vaguely magical. A constant and loud thank you to @resident-of-storybrooke @distant-rose and @bmbbcs4evr for being lovely.

|| Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam ||

—-

“Holy fuck.” Emma rolls her eyes, but she can’t entirely blame Killian because her own knees are shaking perilously underneath her and it feels as if her heart is doing a very good job of beating its way directly out of her chest.

“C’mon, it wasn’t really that bad.” “Are you kidding me?” “You’re being dramatic,” Emma says evenly, and the lie makes her tongue feel like it’s weighed down by, well, several thousand weights. She’s obviously lost any creativity she had in the last few seconds of instinct-induced magic and it had never been that easy.

She refuses to consider why that is, exactly. It’s an obvious answer anyway.

“Fuck, shit, goddamn,” Killian continues, each curse more desperate than the last. His hand tightens around Emma’s, gripping her fingers tightly enough that more than a few of her knuckles crack and she hisses in a breath, trying to mask her own pain and fear and it doesn’t take him more than a moment to realize what he’s done. He drops her hand like he’s been sparked.

Or teleported downtown. By magic. Her magic.

His head snaps towards her, all wide eyes and parted lips and Emma can hear the pattern of his breathing. Irregular. It makes her lungs ache.

“I’m sorry, love,” he breathes, not sounding quite like him. At least not the him that he’s been since Emma opened her door that morning. His voice drops low, every letter tinged with an emotion that does not make sense at all. And yet...Emma’s brain latches onto it, holding on tight enough to crack a few other things.

Possibly her skull.

Maybe this is all just the lingering effects of the concussion she inevitably sustained last night.

“That’s ok,” Emma mumbles with a decidedly out-of-place shrug. “I probably should have warned you, I just--wait.” She nearly bites her tongue in half when her jaw snaps shut and it’s either a testament to her magic or a sign that she’s the world’s shittiest friend that Emma didn’t realize that she and Killian are entirely alone.

In the apartment.

Where she and Ruby are...living may not be the right word, exactly. God, that’s depressing.

“Ruby said here,” Emma says, and she has to keep licking her lips. She’s panting. It can’t possibly be attractive.

She is not worried about that.

Probably.

“She said here and now and minions.” Killian arches an eyebrow. “Like the cartoon?” “Oh my God, tell her that later, she’ll definitely appreciate it.” Emma exhales, likely doing more irreparable damage to her lungs and she wonders if it would freak Killian out even more if she tried to scratch her way out of her skin.

It feels like there’s a spark underneath, an urge and a power and no amount of fluttering fingers or bobbing on her feet seems to help it. Emma shakes her arms at her side, letting her head rock back and forth as she tries to count inhales again without making it obvious.

It doesn’t work.

That’s disappointing. It seems to be a trend.

“Why would Ruby say here if that wasn’t true?” Killian’s eyebrow doesn’t move. The other one joins the first instead, jumping into his hairline, and his eyes widen as soon as the first notes of music drift up the stairs towards the door Emma has only now just realized isn’t locked.

Or closed all the way.

“They were here,” Killian says, taking a step forward and letting the lock chain fall through his fingers. “And I don’t think they left willingly.” “What?” “Look.” He nods towards the door frame, marks that weren’t there a few hours before. “Are those…” Emma nods dumbly, and maybe there’s a spell to reinforce her lungs or something. Like with steel. Or maybe she’ll just give herself gills. Cut out the lung issue completely. She’ll have to ask Regina. “Those are claw marks,” she whispers, tracing over the ridges with the pads of her fingers. “That’s--Rubes wouldn’t do that. Not here. Not in the middle of the goddamn city.” “You said that amulet helped her control things, right? Made it so she could decide how her transformation worked?” Another nod. Emma can’t actually think of anything else to do. She feels a little frozen.

“What would happen if the amulet wasn’t there?” Killian asks. “If someone took it off?” It’s a shake that time – of disbelief, Emma’s hair hitting her in the cheek when she moves and, really, that almost makes sense, some kind of lame self-inflicted punishment because every thing they’ve done has only seemed to get them further away from finding any sort of solution.

She feels like she’s been tossed in a ditch. And it’s muddy. Her socks are very wet in this metaphor.

“Who would know?” Emma challenges, and now the whiplash of emotions is her own doing. Her frustration turns to anger almost immediately, a blazing burst of heat that scorches its way down her neck and rattles down each of her vertebrae, lingering at the base of her spine like a dull flame. She can feel her eyes widen, an unspoken challenge to a man who’s done nothing but offer to help and can feel her magic.

Probably.

He hasn’t actually admitted to that yet.

She hasn’t let him.

That’s neither here nor there.

“About Ruby?”

Emma nods, a sarcastic noise lingering in the back of her throat. “Everyone who knows that magic is a thing is in Storybrooke. Waiting for us to save all of them. No one here would know, let alone believe it, even if they are minions, I mean that’s--” She tastes blood when her teeth find her tongue again, wincing at the look on Killian’s face. “I’m really freaking out,” Emma mutters, like that’s an excuse. “Sorry for being a dick.” “You’re not, Swan. Blunt, but understandably given the circumstance. And as much as I hate to punch holes in your theory, there are plenty of people out there who would be more than willing to believe that a werewolf is living in a slightly ramshackle apartment on the Lower East Side.” Emma opens her mouth to object – something about no one knowing her and Ruby, but that argument evaporates as well because Killian knew her and that kiss in the library did not feel like a first kiss. It felt like a memory or a want, practiced ease and confident movements. There was no caution, no awkward fumbling or worries about what to do with their hands. It felt like them. As if there could be a them.

Or had been.

Past tense.

“I--” Emma starts and, she’s certain, eventually, she’ll finish her sentences. As it is, the music is getting even louder and--”Is that Freddie Mercury?”

Killian blinks, the pinch between his eyebrows returning. It happens, Emma has realized, when he’s a slightly surprised, like it exists simply to process information, and his hand falls to her waist almost immediately.

He hooks his foot around the bottom of the door, swinging it open and leaning towards the hall with Emma flush against his chest. She squirms, a mumbled I have as much right to see as you do, but that only makes his arm wrap around her, tight enough that she’s briefly worried about the state of her spleen. “God, relax with your feats of strength,” she hisses, pointedly ignoring his sigh of indignation.

“Swan, I’m trying to listen.” “To Freddie Mercury?” “To the music that is masking whatever is happening downstairs.”

She kicks him. Hard. Or, as hard as she can, which, admittedly is not that hard when her range of movement is limited, but Emma does her best and the heat at her spine hasn’t disappeared. It’s like she’s been put on simmer, waiting for someone to flick the burner back on and honestly she really needs to work on her metaphors.

These are just awful. They don’t even make sense.

“Emma,” Killian mutters, and she hears it for the reprimand it is.

“Ok, first of all, you don’t not get to go all alpha-male on me. That is absurd. Out of the two of us, who has magic here?” She waits for an answer she knows she’s not going to get because in the few hours she’s spent with Killian Jones she’s also come to realize that he’s almost as stubborn as she is. Emma grins triumphantly. “And two, what do you mean whatever is happening downstairs? What’s downstairs?” Killian doesn’t respond. Emma kicks him again.

“Swan, I swear to God if you don’t stop assaulting me--” “--What? What are you going to do? Because again, out of the two of us, who is actual law enforcement?”

He scowls at her. “You’ve stolen enough money from that ATM to warrant several felonies at this point, love. And--”

The music grows, blasting like it’s coming from a dozen professional-grade speakers and Emma has no idea what sound she makes, but it doesn’t feel particularly pleasant. It feels like a sigh and a groan and absolute and complete desperation. Her head falls onto Killian’s chest. She’s fairly certain he kisses the top of her hair.

That may be wishful thinking.

“Magic,” Emma says, face pressed into Killian’s jacket. She’s counting inhales again. “That’s magic. God...what the fuck Freddie Mercury.” “I don’t think it’s him personally, love.” “You really love arguing with me, huh?” He definitely kisses her hair that time, a quick brush of lips and squeeze of the hand that never moved away from her. “You never noticed the bar, huh? I suppose you’ve had your mind on a few other things, though.” “What?” “You think you can do that light thing in your hand again? That was pretty impressive, might scare off whatever werewolf freaks are downstairs.” “Are you speaking in Greek?”

Killian rolls his shoulder, trying to get Emma to lift her head, but she’s definitely the more stubborn of the two. She groans while she moves, twisting her wrist and the ball of light in her palm is warm, a pulse to it that matches up with her own and every inch of her feels as if it’s half a moment away from combusting.

“See,” Killian grins, lacing his fingers through hers and neither one of them bothers to close the apartment door behind them. “Impressive.”

They don’t move the way she expects, which Emma should really be more prepared for at this point, walking towards a staircase she wasn’t aware existed until that very moment. The music gets louder with every step they take, a never-ending loop of Somebody to Love, and voices talking intently.

Emma doesn’t mean to clutch Killian’s hand as tightly as she knows she is, but she’s got an awful feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her chest feels tight, ribs pinching internal organs they should never come in contact with and--

“What is this?” Emma asks, doing her best to keep her voice quiet. They’ve found their way into some kind of back room, stone walls and damp air and Killian’s answering smile should not be that effective. She rolls her eyes again. To combat it, or whatever.

“It’s a bootleggers basement.” “Are you fucking kidding me?” He flashes her another smile – lazy and lopsided and far too confident to be fair. “Would I do that?”

“I’ve got absolutely no idea,” Emma admits. Killian’s shoulders sag. “But, uh...I really don’t think so. I...well, I wasn’t lying to Rubes yesterday, I trust you and I know--” “--I’m not sure we have enough time for you to get sentimental on me, Swan.”

She groans. “I’m trying to be nice. I--well, I did yank you around via magic. And how did you know this was here?” “Not content to assume that I just know everything, huh?” “Killian.” He grins, tongue pressed into the corner of his mouth. “There are dozens of places like this smattered across the city, but especially further downtown where it was easier to get the alcohol off barges near the docks. People willing to do anything for a drink at that point, you know? Plus, places like this are always rife with information. Chatty folk when they’re drunk.”

“What are you saying?”

“You really didn’t realize there was a bar under the apartment you were living in? Scarlet will be very disappointed.” “Like you said, I’ve been kind of busy.” Killian hums, lower lip jutted out slightly. Emma kind of wants to bite it. That feels a little violent. And she should probably be saving any of those particular tendencies for whatever is happening on the other side of the basement wall.

As it is, what’s happening on the other side of the basement wall does not sound pleasant. That’s an understatement. Emma strains to put a name to the noise just barely finding its way to her ears, not entirely sure she wants to because the noise sounds painful and something akin to a whimper and--

“That’s not Ruby,” Emma says, jerking her head around to find all the color has rushed out of Killian’s face. He doesn’t let go of her hand when he dashes forward, pulling Emma with him to press against the wall.

“What the fuck is happening? Are you people insane?” Emma’s laugh is as out of place as it is possible for one thing to be, but the voice sounds less fearful and more furious. She can appreciate that. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that’s Scarlet, right?”

Killian nods, and Emma doesn’t object when he pulls her back against his side – as if that makes any of this easier. “It’s his bar,” he explains. “He’s probably pissed they’re fucking with his juke box.” “Ah, so it’s really not Freddie Mercury, then?” “Unless you’re suddenly capable of reviving the dead with your very impressive magic, I’m afraid it’s just Queen's Greatest Hits.”

Emma sticks her tongue out.

And it’s almost flirting again, almost normal, almost ok, but then Scarlet’s voice turns into Scarlet yelling and pleading and–”No, no, no, just...leave her alone! She doesn’t have anything to do with this. You can...you can take whatever you want. Take the money. There’s not--well, there’s not a ton there, but--” “--You think we want your money?”

“Oh my God,” Emma mumbles, at the new voice joining the fray. It’s a woman, that much she can tell, but she can’t place the tone or the timbre and she’s starting to lose feeling in her left hand. “Killian,” Emma continues softly. He’s staring straight ahead, a tension in his jaw that can’t possibly be good for his teeth. “Hey, what’s going on?” He shakes his head – he must, because that one piece of hair designed solely to ruin Emma’s entire life, moves slightly, brushing over his forehead and drifting towards his eyebrows, and he flinches when her hand lands on his cheek again.

“Do you know who that is?” “No,” he answers, sounding unsure of the word.

“No? I hate to punch holes in your theory, but it kind of sounds like you do. And, uh...you know, if you’ve got some clues as to how to defeat whatever is happening over there, then that’d be--” “--I don’t know, Emma.” She blinks at the sound of his voice, an absolute that makes her magic spark. In defense. Of him. “Huh,” she muses. “Wow, you’re a shit liar, you know that?” “You don’t know me well enough to say that.” “And yet here we are. With my werewolf best friend missing and your roommate being robbed and--”

Emma makes a noise when she’s cut off, a cry of frustration that doesn’t do them any favors in their continued hiding spot, but the howl that comes from the other side of the door is loud and a little feral and there’s more than one.

Her eyes flicker back up towards Killian, his lips pressed together tightly enough that they almost disappear entirely. He presses a finger to his mouth, a silent command she doesn't appreciate very much, until he’s leaning forward, another kiss pressed to her temple and she can barely hear the words he whispers in her ear.

That song is still playing.

“Can you do something about this wall?”

“What?” Emma balks.

“The wall, love. I think we may be able to maintain the element of surprise if we don’t come waltzing through the door.” “God, who is waltzing anywhere?” Killian glares at her. Emma sticks her tongue out. “The wall, Swan. If you can do something about it, get rid of it for a moment--” “--What kind of witch do you think I am that I can’t get rid of a wall?” “I swear, if you don’t stop interrupting me,” he warns, but that’s as much as he gets out before he ducks his head and the kissing is even more out of place than the laughing was. It’s different than the first kiss that might not have been that, not nearly as long because the whimpering is back and Will is shouting again and Emma’s got a growing suspicion that there are several dogs in the bar she didn’t realize was there, but it’s searing in a way that sends a rush of heat and want through every one of her muscles, lingering in her veins and settling into her bloodstream like it’s supposed to be there.

He nips at her lip again, tongue brushing over the seam of her mouth, and Emma squeezes her eyes shut as soon as they pull apart, desperate to brand the feeling into her memory.

She’s got a growing suspicion about that too. It doesn’t feel like she actually has to.

“That was ridiculous,” Emma mutters, drawing a cynical laugh out of Killian. He kisses her again.

“A complex, love, honestly.” She rolls her eyes, but it’s getting difficult to ignore whatever her heart is doing and she winks when she presses her palm flat against the wall behind her.

And everything goes to complete and absolute shit.

Quickly.

It’s efficient, at least.

The scene in front of them is nothing short of chaotic, chairs toppled and claw marks in more than one table and half of those tables are laying on their side. Belle is far too pale to be healthy, a gash in her leg that does not look like it was created by any sort of human. She’s breathing heavily, as if each inhale is a challenge, hair plastered to her head where its laying against the bar floor.

Will – Emma assumes it’s Will, there’s no other man in the bar – doesn’t look much better, shoulders heaving and eyes manic as he tries to move towards her. The woman sitting on the edge of bar lets out a low tsk, tsk at that, holding what appears to be a soda gun in her hand. She slams her thumb onto one of the buttons, a stream of water flying farther than it has any right to and Emma’s going to pass out from a lack of oxygen.

“Breathe, love,” Killian whispers. She doesn’t.

Will sputters as the water continues to slam into his face, trying to pull away, but the water follows his every move and it only takes a moment for the woman on the bar to realize her audience has grown. She perks up as soon as her eyes land on Killian and Emma, a knowing smile that does not look human slinking across her face. She’s a little older than Emma, feet swinging in the air, and arms crossed lightly over the green blazer she’s wearing. The fabric doesn’t look normal though, a shine to it that makes Emma’s hackles rise in self-defense.

She’s got absolutely no idea where her hackles are.

That’s probably more a Ruby thing at this point anyway. Because Ruby, is in fact, not Ruby anymore – crouched in the corner of the bar with another woman staring intently at her. She’s practically salivating, the look of longing on her face wholly abnormal in a string of absolutely impossible things, and the coat she’s got on must weigh at least ten pounds.

It’s fur.

And oddly similar to the fur of the dogs yanking on the leash in her hand.

“What the--” Emma starts, another cut-off sentence as soon as the dog lady spins on the spot. She chuckles lightly, presumably at the stunned look on Emma and Killian’s face, and lets up a bit on the leash. The dogs lunge, jaws snapping and teeth bared and Emma doesn’t think, she throws both her hands up and lets Killian’s arm wrap around her middle and the dogs don’t get any closer.

“Interesting,” the dog lady murmurs, and there’s got to be a better name for her than that. “He’ll be very intrigued to know how well your magic is fostering still, Savior.”

Ruby snarls. As a werewolf.

“Savior,” Emma repeats. “How do you know that?” The woman on the bar takes her thumb off the soda gun, hopping down lightly and Emma’s eyes bug when she realizes she’s not wearing shoes. She steps in every single puddle, a wandering path across the bar until she’s only a few inches away and her gaze doesn’t land on Emma. That’s surprising.

“Captain,” she says instead, eyes flitting across Killian with interest, “I’d say it’s nice to see you again, but that would be a lie, wouldn’t it?”

Killian’s entire body tenses, chin lifting in something that almost looks like defiance. The fingers wrapped around Emma’s flutter at his side, shifting with an energy that makes her wonder what he’s reaching for.

“I have no idea who you are,” he sneers. “What are you doing here?” The woman’s smile widens. “Oh, it took some time, I’ll admit, but that’s mostly your fault now, isn’t it? Ahahaha,” she says with a quick shake of her head and flick of her wrist. The water at her feet flies up, smacking Killian in the face and making him cough. “And please hold all your questions until the end.” “We don’t have time for this,” the dog lady growls, but that may actually be the dogs and Ruby is chained up as well. “We need to make the deal.” “No, no, no, I’ve waited a lifetime for this. I’m going to get what I want.” “You’re delusional,” Killian challenges, and Emma wishes he’d stop antagonizing the clearly magical villain.

She tries to move her hand without drawing attention to herself – an attempt to stop the blood pooling underneath Belle’s knee, but one of the dogs barks again and the dog lady’s laugh is the worst of all of them. It’s far too soft. “I’m afraid you won’t be able to help quite yet, Savior. It’ll take a bit longer for her to bleed out anyway. My darling didn’t bite her too deep, did he?”

The dog in question whines in response, another chomp of his jaws. Belle gets paler.

“What the hell is happening?” Will demands, drawing out every letter. Emma hopes his entire alcohol stock wasn’t destroyed. He deserves more than one drink. “Who the fuck are you people?” “All in good time,” the woman with the sparkly jacket says. That’s still not the right description, Emma’s eyes narrowing as she tries to figure out what, exactly, the fabric is made of. It shimmers and shines, flickering in the light every time she moves, as if it’s retaining water and Emma’s quiet breath of understanding isn’t all that quiet.

“Scales,” she says. “Those are scales.” The woman’s smile flickers.

“She thinks she’s Ursula,” Belle mutters, not lifting her head off the floor. “She’s...the water thing, the scales. Even the music.” “Music?” Will repeats dumbly. “What about the music?” Emma’s brain is firing on neurons she didn’t realize she possessed until that very moment, bits of something that she’s fairly certain are memories but are entirely unfamiliar, slamming into every corner of her skull, desperate to be remembered and acknowledged. She chews on her lip, drawing more blood and that’s probably a bad move with possibly blood-thirsty dogs a few feet away, but she needs something to settle her nerves and her emotion.

And her magic.

The glow in the palm of her hand turns blinding, as if someone deposited a star on her skin. Will curses at the flash of light, the dogs not taking too kindly to it either, but Ursula just laughs under her breath and the music gets louder.

It’s the same goddamn song. “A siren,” Killian whispers, staring at Emma like that should be an answer. It is. She lets go of her lip. “Ursula is a siren. A sea witch, that could control music and send sailors to their demise. She had the power of the seas at her disposal, could warp anything with water if the price was right. It was an old legend that--” “--Well, that’s rude isn’t it, Captain?” He’s going to have to go to the dentist after this. It can’t possibly be good to be putting so much pressure on his molars.

Killian looks up – gaze set and steady, but his fingers are still moving and Emma’s starting to lose feeling in her limbs. “You’re acting like you know me,” he accuses. “That’s not--”

“--Oh, don’t say impossible,” Ursula laughs. “That’s insulting to both of us. And you’re lovely...well, what would we call her?” She nods in Emma’s direction, eyes bright. “Girlfriend is far too dull after everything you did, don’t you think?”

Killian doesn’t respond. Emma’s not sure he can. That’s fair. She’s got no idea what the fuck is going on.

“What do you think, Cruella?” Ursula continues, seemingly content to linger in the villain soliloquy portion of the evening. Emma’s eyes flit around the bar, looking for an escape route or another bootleggers basement and there isn't anything. They're going to have to fight their way out of this – with her magic.

And maybe Ruby. As a werewolf.

The amulet is in Cruella’s hand.

“Fucking hell,” Emma mutters, drawing a curious glance out of Killian. She jerks her head slightly, the villains distracted by impossible relationship monikers.

“Oh damn,” he sighs.

“Yeah, exactly. So, um...thoughts?” “Far too many, honestly.” Emma hums in understanding, but that appears to be one sound too many and the water that collides with her half-opened mouth is sudden and jarring and she can’t breathe. She shakes her head, trying to refill her lungs, but every inhale is just water and her head starts to spin before she can even begin to muster the magic lingering in her.

“I’ve had just about enough of that, haven’t you, Cruella?” Ursula asks lightly, and Emma’s never drowned before, never even come close, but she seems to be on that track now and it is fairly awful.

Honestly.

Cruella nods. “Agreed. Can’t have the lovers conspiring against us again. He won’t appreciate that at all.” “Lovers, that’s a good descriptor for it. What are your thoughts on paramour?” “For the princess?” Ursula hums, a vague sound of interest that sends warning signs shooting up Emma’s spine, a roar of something in her brain that makes her feel like she’s being split apart. That’s probably a byproduct of the drowning.

She can hear yelling and howling in equal measure – Will screaming and Ruby trying to get out of the chain shackled around her hind leg – but Emma can barely process any of that when her vision turns spotty and she doesn’t object to whatever her legs are doing. She assumes they’re just collapsing, not able to support her own weight, and it’s getting annoying to be so consistently wrong.

They’re not collapsing. They’re being dragged.

Killian’s hand brushes the hair away from her face, shaking Emma’s shoulders slightly and she can’t stop coughing. The water is everywhere. “Hey, hey,” he says, rushing over the words as if getting them out quicker will help regulate her breathing. “Look at me. Swan, please. Open your eyes, darling.”

She does. They fly open, in fact, a word she’s never heard before lingering in the minimal space around them. Emma can’t catch her breath – and it’s not the fault of the almost-drowning, it’s that word and the look on Killian’s face, a complete terror that a stranger shouldn’t have and a neighbor shouldn’t feel and lovers makes a hell of a lot of sense.

In a way that is, actually, the complete opposite of that.

He exhales, nosing at her cheek like he’s making sure she’s there still. “Are you ok?” “If I ask you what the hell is happening again, is that weird?” “Probably not.” “Ok, good, that’s good.” “You’ve got to keep breathing love.” “Yeah, I think I’ve heard that somewhere.”

Killian chuckles, the twist of his lips obvious where his mouth is still pressed against Emma’s skin. And, rationally, she knows that there’s no spark that should come along with that, but rational thinking has flown out every metaphorical window she could come up with, so she refuses to try and figure out a reason for the pinprick of magic blooming just under her eye.

It is.

And for, right now, that’s enough.

“So quick to throw yourself in harms way, aren’t you, Captain?” Ursula asks, taking another step forward and kicking at the puddle under her feet. “It’s interesting that that hasn’t changed. Although I suppose it’s just a defining part of your character now, isn’t it?” Killian grits his teeth, tugging Emma flush against his chest. Ursula’s eyebrows lift slightly.

“Interesting,” she muses. “It’s almost as if it’s embedded in your subconscious. Was it immediate? As soon as you saw her? That’s how the stories always go.” Ruby growls, low and aggressive and Emma gets the distinct feeling she knows something. Or, at least, has made several sweeping assumptions.

“You said Captain,” Emma says, finding a bit of courage that may be another piss-poor metaphor. “Why do you think that?” “Why don’t you? Don’t you have your wits about you, your highness?” “Stop saying that!” “Ah, that’s an answer, my dear,” Cruella observes. She’s sitting on one of of the bar stools now, both dogs lying at her feet, a look on her face that reminds Emma of some sort of apex predator. “It’s interesting that you didn’t retain that when you came here.” “What?” "What the hell,” Will mumbles again, and Emma shouldn’t laugh, but her mind doesn’t care. The sound falls out of her unbidden, shaking her shoulders and making her tongue ache and that is disgusting. The water dripping from her hair is freezing cold.

“I’m going to buy you a really big drink later,” she promises. Will salutes. He’s still lying on the ground.

Ursula's gaze hasn’t moved from Killian – eyes drifting up and down his torso and flickering more than once to the hand at his side. “Looking for your sword?”

His hand stills.

“Excuse me?” “Your sword,” she echoes, another twist of her wrist and the water swirls around her ankles. “Always prone to action weren’t you, Captain? You know, I think it got worse once she,” her chin jerks towards Emma again, “wasn’t there. It was as if you’d lost your impulse control entirely. Although, well...when one loses someone like that, I suppose it makes them desperate.” “Make your goddamn point! I don’t know her!” “Aw, come now, that wasn’t even close to convincing. You certainly acted like you did, pulling her to safety and simple nothings whispered in her ear. It’s almost sickening.” Emma can see the muscles in Killian’s throat move when he swallows, tongue darting between his lips because he’s breathing through his mouth now too. Belle hasn’t made a single noise in far too long.

“What do you think you know?” Emma asks suddenly, stepping away from Killian quick enough that she manages to surprise him. Ursula looks impressed. She’s smiling, at least.

That might not be a good thing.

“Swan,” Killian warns, but she shakes her head deftly, not entirely surprised by the brush of fingers on the back of her wrist.

The smile definitely isn’t a good thing.

“Would you like to hear my evil plan, Savior?” Ursula asks, low and menacing and the word siren bounces around Emma’s brain. She nods anyway. “Of course you would. It’s very easy to listen to me, isn’t it?” Another nod. “I haven’t known the Captain nearly as long as you have, but I feel as if I almost know him better than you--I’ve seen what he’s willing to do, just about anything, to get what he wants, and he’s not all that worried about the destruction he leaves behind.”

“Pirate,” Cruella says, and it sounds like a curse. There’s blood in Emma’s mouth.

Ursula makes a noise of agreement. “Exactly. Willing to embrace any darkness, any challenge, all to get what he wants. I admired him for it at one point. That was my mistake.” “What do you mean?” Emma whispers, and it’s disappointing when she can’t make her voice stop shaking. “What did he do?” Ursula’s expression turns triumphant, the music from the jukebox blaring loud enough that Emma doesn’t hear whatever Killian says behind her.

She wraps her fingers around his anyway.

“It all came down to you, Savior,” Ursula explains. “He needed to get back to you and he was willing to do whatever it took. He needed my help, though. Not easy to get here, you see” “How?” “There was a rumor, long ago, of a water that could revive once-dead things. That it could spark life back into anything. Even something as seemingly unimportant as a bean.” Emma blinks. Once, twice, three times. The scene in front of her doesn’t change. She doesn’t really expect it to.

“Swan,” Killian whispers, her own name turning into a plea. “I don’t know what she’s talking about. I’ve never--I’ve never met that woman before. I don’t…” The music grows louder, a thumping rhythm that echoes between Emma’s ears and makes the beams above her head rattle. “No, no, no, Captain,” Ursula objects. “We can’t have that. I won’t have you lying to your princess’ face. It’s unseemly. Listen to the music. I did pick this song out just for the two of you.”

Emma closes her eyes, not entirely in control of herself anymore, listening to the lyrics and the words and-- “That makes no sense,” she growls, more misplaced confidence. The magic in her veins is helpful though, growing, Emma knows, the longer Killian’s thumb keeps doing that thing.

Ursula’s lips twitch. “No? Ah, usually I’m better than that. I suppose it’s because you’ve allowed magic to wither away in this godforsaken realm. Well, no matter.” She snaps her fingers, the jukebox groaning under the force of the magic controlling it and Will curses at the destruction of even more of his property.

Emma’s got to stop laughing.

She does as soon as she realizes what song is playing.

“Is that...Céline Dion?”

“Oh, yes,” Ursula nods. “You see, I need you to remember, your highness. I need you to understand who, exactly, you’re dealing with and I need your pirate to lose you all over again. If only for my own pleasure.” Emma’s eyes are going to fall out of her head. It will be, inevitably, disgusting.

“Jones isn’t a pirate,” Will argues, Ruby’s growl turning into a yelp when Cruella turns her dogs back towards her. “That’s--you’re a crazy person.”

One of the dogs turns on him, jumping forward and sinking his teeth into an arm that’s stretched out across linoleum floor and whatever sound Will makes at that will probably reverberate in Emma’s consciousness for the rest of her life.

“Will,” Killian cries, moving half a step away from Emma. He freezes almost as quickly, though, more goddamn Céline Dion and Ursula’s quiet laughter.

She waggles a finger at him. “I’m afraid we can’t go much further until your princess makes a choice, Captain. I didn’t expect her to have forgotten as well. It’s interesting, but I’m sure he has a contingency plan in place.” Emma wishes this conversation were more streamlined.

“He? You mean the Dark One? What do you know about the Dark One?” she demands, only to be met with an almost amused expression. The music gets louder, nudging at the back of her brain and visions that don’t feel like that – a grand hall and a red dress and a flash of a smile that she’s certain she’d be able to describe in minute detail if asked. There’s green grass and a feeling that comes from, not just being wanted, but being loved, adored and needed and the sun that glints off the sword hilt in front of her eyes is almost as bright as the flash of light that reappears in the palm of Emma’s hand.

Ursula blinks.

“What do you know?” she asks again. Belle answers. Emma’s very glad Belle isn’t dead.

“She said it before, when she was...when they got us down here. She said the Dark One was willing to make a deal with you. Us for you. That’s why the dog lady took Ruby’s...whatever was around her neck.”

Emma needs to control the sounds she makes. This latest one isn’t quite a scoff, more just generic disbelief and something drifting dangerously close to fury. As if she’d just give herself up to the Dark One.

That was not the point of her quest.

God, she hates that she even thought the word quest.

“It’s all different when you don’t know what you are, Savior,” Cruella adds. “But tell me,” she dangles the amulet in the air, the chain pinched between her fingers, “what would you do if I just...slipped this on your friend? And off? And on? I’ve got nowhere to go, you see and I’ve always been fascinated by transformative magic like this. There’s no end to the kind of information I could glean tonight. Although I imagine it would be rather painful.” “You’re at a crossroads, Savior, again,” Ursula says. “The Dark One remembers what you did. He knows you ran, tried to hide yourself in this realm, but he was always going to find you. I made sure of that.” Emma’s mouth goes dry. “How?” “Your pirate. I wasn’t exaggerating. He was desperate for you, a path to the Land Without Magic. A place where, I’m sure, he’d be able to thrive. Magicless sot.” She scoffs callously, eyes turning hard and Emma knows she doesn’t imagine whatever is happening to her jacket. Glistening. Glowing. Magic. “Anyway, you were gone. Most of the kingdom was gone and this one had been left behind. With the Dark One trailing him. Oh, he hates your pirate almost as much as I do.” “Almost?” Emma repeats, the word heavy as she says it.

Ursula winks. “Almost. Anyway, the pirate found me, begged me to lead him to Lake Nostos, so he could find his way back to you. I agreed, on the condition that he’d bring me with him.” “Why? You have magic.” “You’re quite a little genius, aren’t you? I’m sure your kingdom will feel so much safer knowing that they’re in such perceptive hands.” “An answer,” Emma shouts, flexing her hand at her side and the burst of magic that flies out of her is jarring at best. It’s goddamn, absolutely terrifying at worst. It’s the strongest thing she’s ever done and she wasn’t even trying to do it.

The force of it collides with Cruella, sending her sailing off her barstool perch, slamming into the wall with a thud that makes Emma’s heart drop into her stomach. Ruby growls, just restrained enough that she can’t get her teeth on the woman’s throat, and for half a second Emma regrets that. She wants her dead.

She wants them all dead.

For doing something...she can’t remember.

“I wanted away from my father,” Ursula explains quickly. “He’d been controlling me for years, forcing me to do things with my power...this is not my fault, Savior.” “Whose is it, then?” “His.” She nods in Killian’s direction, and Emma can’t remember the last time he blinked. “I didn’t know that he’d made a deal with my father as well. Wanted squid ink. Helps with the memories sometimes, you see. So I offered to steal it for him. He was very quick to agree, let me take the danger. We were supposed to meet at Lake Nostos.” “And?” “And. My father caught me. He presented me to Jones and demanded a reason for it. The pirate wasn’t shy. He was more than willing to let me go back to my father, used as a pawn in his games. After all, he was already at Nostos. He didn’t need me anymore. Never did get that squid ink, though.”

“You’re making that up,” Emma accuses, part of her rebelling at the sentiment. She knows it’s true. She’s got no idea how she knows it’s true.

Will’s throwing broken bits of chair to try and distract the dogs away from Ruby.

“Am I?” Ursula asks. “Or am I simply telling you what you don’t want to hear, your highness? It always did fascinate me that you left him behind. In fact, I think I might have done him a favor when I took him to Nostos. He forgot what you’d done to him.” Emma stumbles back, not from the words themselves, but the certainty behind them, another push of confidence and nudge at the back of her brain, a magical attempt to drudge up feelings and memories that she isn’t sure she wants to exist.

“I didn’t--” Emma starts, but Ursula’s already shaking her head. “Where’s the sword, then? You said he was trying to get his sword, where is it?” “I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that, your highness, but if memory serves, it was the most prized possession of our Captain Jones. As the reputation grew, so did that of the weapon. Some people used to suggest it was simply part of him. Or that it had been enchanted to obey his thoughts, as if it could act before he did. You know what I think, though?” “I can’t imagine.” “I think you gave it to him, your highness. And I think he remembered that every day. Even after you left him behind.” “I wouldn’t do that.”

Emma has no idea what possesses her to say that. It’s not entirely true – can’tbe, because he’s a stranger and some man who just happened to live next to the apartment her magic had been drawn to – but it’s not entirely untrue either and the certainty that she’d do...something, anything for the man whose thumb is still tracing out idle patterns on her wrist is only a little overwhelming.

In a powerful, magic-altering kind of way.

Her eyes screw shut as the feeling moves through her, trying to stay upright and grounded and Killian’s muttering something against her, quiet promises that seem familiar and--

“You need to actually hold your blade up higher, you know.”

“Oh, shut up.” “Your highness!” “I said shut up, you’re not even supposed to be here.” “And who’s doing is that, love?” “Are you going to actually instruct or just pass sweeping judgements?”

He nods, twisting the blade in his hand with a smile and the tip of his tongue pressed against the corner of his lips, laughing loudly as soon as Emma’s head snaps to the side. He doesn’t try to stop her, just catches her with an arm around the waist and greedy mouths and --

“Swan,” Killian says sharply, one hand wrapped around her shoulder and his prosthetic resting on her hip and he’s got his back to Ursula. That’s idiotic. “Love, we’ve got to get out of here.”

“Now, we were just starting to have some fun, Captain,” Ursula admonishes. “And I’m afraid I really can’t let the princess go. He won’t be pleased with that. He wants her. Wants the spark of her magic. To restore the rest of his. She can’t leave.” “That’s not going to work.” “Hmm, you really are rather devoted aren’t you? A dutiful knight in shining armor.”

Emma’s lungs are never going to be the same. She’s not sure why, but she glances at Belle, curled against Will’s side with what, at first glance, appears to be a bit of his shirt wrapped tightly around her leg.

They’re both incredibly bloody.

“What did you just say?” Emma snaps, Ursula’s lips curling up at the returning shake to her voice. “Why would you...you know what? Fuck off.”

She waves her hand before she can doubt herself again, a muddled mess of magic and memories and the desperate desire to know what the fuck is going on. Ursula’s body slumps under the blast, knees slamming into puddles. Emma’s not actually casting any spells, a move that would inevitably drive Regina insane, just acting on instinct and desire and the light streaming from the tips of her fingers.

“I need that amulet,” Emma says, nodding in the direction of Cruella and it does not surprise her that Belle moves first. She waves her hand again, freezing the dogs to their spot and Ruby gives a yelp of approval.

“Fucking hell,” Will grumbles, but he follows Belle anyway. Emma watches the scene for a moment – tugging the amulet out of Cruella’s grip and tossing it towards Ruby. She makes a less-than-impressed noise.

“Put it on her,” Killian shouts. He’s stepped away from Emma – a move she’d barely noticed when everything else was happening, a bottle clutched in his hand. It's broken, sharp shards that are probably as threatening as the great, disappearing, maybe didn’t ever exist, sword. “God, Scarlet, that is obvious!” “Ok, ok, not all of us have some kind of backlog of magic knowledge, Jones! Also, some of us are suffering from pretty severe blood loss.” “Oh, I can probably fix that in a second,” Emma says, another promise she likely shouldn’t be making. She may need a drink of her own before she tries.

Killian beams at her. “See.” “Are you guys seriously flirting now?” Belle asks, moving towards Ruby slowly. “Honestly? I mean I knew you were into her, Killian, but--” “--What?” Emma asks. They don’t have time for this. They still have to deal with Ursula. Emma is fairly certain the water on the ground is moving.

“Was that not obvious?” Killian asks. He’s, apparently, taking care of Ursula, crowding in her space with the bottle pointed at her neck and a certain glint in his eyes that makes Emma’s blood run cold.

Like a fish.

Or something.

“It’s not going to work,” Ursula says. “It didn’t the last time. He knows you’ll give in eventually, your highness. You already have.”

“I’ve never actually met the Dark One,” Emma argues. “He invaded Storybrooke--” “--Because you ran. What kind of Savior does that? You ran and you took magic with you. But it doesn’t belong here either. It belongs in our realm, where it can thrive and grow and where it can be controlled. It’s inevitable, princess. He was always going to take over.” “None of that is true,” Killian hisses. He presses the tip of the bottle to Ursula’s skin, a gasp of pain and dot of blood and Ruby is Ruby again. Emma can hear her breath hitch. “Why are you lying?” “I’m not. I just remember what I took from you. And you’re doing it again, Captain.” Her eyes dart down towards his hand, pressure against her neck and a few more dots of far-too-red blood. He doesn’t move. Instead, his shoulders go straight as a board, a determination there that feels like a fire flaring back to life and Emma is seriously the least creative person on the planet.

“Killian.”

Her feet move without much thought to what she’s doing, but it feels like crossing a line she can’t come back from and Emma’s hand doesn’t shake when she wraps it around Killian’s wrist. “Let go,” she whispers, pulling his fingers apart. “It’s ok. I’m--we’re ok, we’re going to get out of here now.” “Are you though?” Ursula counters.

“That’s not much of a move when there’s still all that blood on your throat,” Ruby points out, both Will and Belle humming in agreement. They each have an arm wrapped around her shoulders. Emma isn’t sure who’s holding who up at this point.

“And, incidentally, what bottle did you break to make your very threatening threat?” Will asks. “Because that’s like...you know, you’re going to have to pay for that.” “He won’t stop,” Ursula continues, unperturbed by their return to wholly out of place banter. “He’s coming for you, Savior and he’s coming for the pirate. The great thorn in his side, determined to waylay him. There’s no running from it anymore. It’s a fool’s errand.” “Then I’ve got to be the biggest idiot around,” Emma quips. She yanks the bottle out of Killian’s hand, tossing it on the ground and ignoring Will’s cries of protest about profit margin, grabbing Ruby’s jacket. “Do not freak out when I do this.” Ruby groans.

And their landing is a little off, but Emma will argue it’s because she didn’t know where they were going.

“Are we in my apartment?” Belle asks, a note of impressed in her voice.

Emma nods, panting slightly when she falls back against the carpeted floor. Killian hasn’t said a word. “I certainly hope so,” she mumbles. “Otherwise this is going to suck.” “And after you teased the villain so well.” “How’s the blood loss coming?” “Uh, not great, honestly, but there were ancient sea witches to deal with and whatever Killian was doing and--” She snaps around so quickly, Emma briefly wonders if she’s passed out, but she’s staring at Killian instead, all concern and curiosity. “How did you know what to do with the bottle? That was…” “Barbaric?” Will suggests, Ruby already rifling through cabinets because nothing makes her hungrier than transforming.

Belle shakes her head. “No, that was...habit. And threatening. Like you’d gotten used to that.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Killian says shortly, no room for objection. “You should let Swan fix your leg before you do actually, you know, die.” Will snorts. “Tactful as always.” “And just offering up Emma’s magic now, it seems,” Ruby adds.

Killian must have been holding his breath because the exhale that rushes out of him is far too large for one, normal human to contain. His tongue moves again, eyes falling closed and head dropping forward and Emma’s moving before she thinks. Again. Or still. The tenses are starting to get confusing. “Give me five minutes, ok?” she asks, gaze darting down to the charms around Killian’s neck. He’s started toying with them. Another nervous habit.

“Yeah, ok.” And she’s as good as her questionably-strong-magic word – waving her hands and removing any evidence that either Will or Belle had been bitten by large, possibly demonic dogs earlier that afternoon. There’s far too much to talk about, but Emma’s muscles feel heavy and her whole being feels drained, so it only takes Ruby a few moments of staring to announce--”We’re going to make food, eat food, watch shitty TV and then figure out how to save the world tomorrow, ok?” They agree.

But sleep is a curious thing and Emma’s brain is still racing, even after food and hot chocolate and nearly a full season of a show Belle claims is called Drag Race. She’s frustratingly awake, the soft tick of the clock in the kitchen a metronome designed to drive her insane, when she feels Killian’s stir next to her.

“I’m sorry.” Emma’s lips quirk up. They’re laying on Belle’s kitchen floor. “None of that was your fault.” “That’s not what she said.” “She claimed to be an ancient sea witch with the power to control music and water, I’m not sure we can take her at face value.” “You saw her control the water though,” Killian points out.

“Is this a backwards way of getting me to thank you for saving me from that?” “What? No, of course not, that’s not--” “--Hey,” Emma interrupts, flipping onto her side and her hand just...moves to his cheek. On instinct. Of the unmagical variety. “That was an exceptionally shitty joke, huh?” Killian’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes, but it’s a start. “Kind of...and she said the music was meant to get us to remember, right?”

“Where are you going with this?” “I’ve got no fucking idea, but...as soon as your magic...when it grew like that, I thought I saw...I remembered…” She swallows, fear and longing and the echo of that feeling, like frost on a windowpane, disappearing before Emma can try and contain it. “What?” she asks, barely able to get the word out. “Did you--did you see something?” “Did you?” “Killian!”

He huffs, mouth crashing against hers like it will help him settle or remember even more. She’s dizzy with the rush of it, more than willing to linger in that moment for several moments longer, but the world is a dick and the Dark One is sending minions after them for reasons she can’t remember.

“It was a...there were people and they were going somewhere, sneaking out, maybe,” Killian whispers, Emma’s eyes widening at the same time her jaw drops. “But it wasn’t...it felt like getting ready for something and, I...it was us, Swan.”

#cs ff #captain swan #cs fic #cs #captain swan ff #all was golden in the sky #that stupid witch fic #BATTLE COUPLE #BATTLE #COUPLE #(and some more kissing)#(there may genuinely only be one other chapter in this story where they don't kiss)

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j-hoseok94 · 4 years

Text

Book: House of Cards

Author: Rey Rey

01•02•03

Three

The day went crawling along the same shit as any other day. It was lunch break I sat in one of the tables off to the side by the big windows. My head in my hand I watched the trees gently sway back and forth. Axel was babbling about his recent crush he thought was "the most beautiful girl he's ever seen" as he normally said about every girl he knew, including me.

I let my mind wander to places it probably shouldn't be going. I kept thinking of what it would truly feel like to kiss Yoongi. Imagining if his lips were soft or rough. Was he a good kisser? I mean i never heard anything bad about his kissing. He went through girls quickly though as far as I could see. He never had a girl close to him for long maybe a week if she was lucky. 'Pfft he's such a player' i thought. The way he looked yesterday though, he looked...nervous. A smile broke out on my face as I laughed to myself.

"What's so funny? I wanna laugh too." I snapped out of my internal babble and looked at my best friend his head tilted as he smiled, dimples and all.

I shook my head "nothing i just remembered something weird." his eyebrows scrunched together. I quickly replied, "You weren't there Chipmunk i can't explain it."

He poked his lips out in a pout which made his chipmunk cheeks puff out. "I'm not a chipmunk. Why do you insist on calling me that name?"

I laughed out loud "You're doing right now! Every time you pout your cheeks pop out and make you look like a chipmunk that's not my fault." He just shook his head at me.

I looked down at my lunch a smile still on my face. I felt eyes on me i ignored em i figured it was just my best friend still staring me down. I shifted in my seat feeling a little uneasy under the continued feeling of eyes on me. I glanced up at my best friend across the table to try and catch him in the act. He was paying me no mind munching on his chips and scrolling through his phone.

I took a quick glance around me to try and catch the weirdo still staring. I didn't see anyone that was until I looked to the side of my best friend in the background a very Minty haired boy was watching me. He was sitting closer to the exit of the cafeteria than I was. His friends were laughing and joking around throwing playful punches at each other. He licked his bottom lip and tilted his head to the side a smug grin on his face as he stared me down. I just stared frozen in place as he tempted my thoughts to go to places I shouldn't be thinking about. His eyes were glued to me and mine were on him the whole time. I felt the heat in my cheeks and i was about to bury my face when his friend shook his shoulder to get his attention. He broke his stare and glared at his friend.

I looked down and closed my eyes trying to think clearly. "Axel." He glanced up at me giving me his attention "Let's go. I'm done eating." I bent over and grabbed my little black and gold backpack slinging it over my shoulder. I grabbed my textbook and tray and started for the exit looking down the whole time as I passed by Yoongi and his friends. As I dumped my food into the trash and placed the tray on top of the trash housing, I felt him watching i didn't turn around my anxiety slowly rising as i left.

-Yoongi-

Yoongi knew the girl would get nervous from him staring, they all did. He had a way of making them blush which he enjoyed seeing. He wanted her to feel shy he liked those girls the most. They gave him a feeling he didn't know how to explain besides maybe saying they gave him power. He liked being in control. In control of his feelings, his actions, the way he could make any girl swoon, he loved that. As his pretty music partner stared back at him this glorious look on her face of pure innocence. He couldn't help but think of all the ways he wanted to tease her. All the ways he wanted to please her. He licked his bottom lip at the thought of how she would taste. His grin crossing his face causing her to shift in her seat, crossing her legs. He was in his own world as he teased her with his eyes.

Jungkook shook his shoulder "Yoongiiii!" He looked over at his friend staring daggers at him for interrupting him. "What Kookie?" he growled at his friend. Jungkook just put on his cute bunny smile. Laughing off Yoongi's glare, " Were you gonna come to Jimin's party this weekend?" Yoongi forgot about that stupid party. He hated parties he always showed up late and left early pretty much only showing up so his friends wouldn't complain to him later. As he was about to answer he spotted Rose leaving the cafeteria. Her adorably messy bun bouncing with every step she took. He admired her figure she was different she left something for the imagination which most girls didn't do, especially around him. He watched as she left lost in thought. "Damn she's fine." Jungkook commented. Yoongi turned his attention to Jungkook staring at him as he checked her out. Something inside Yoongi stirred he didn't like the way Kookie was staring so lustfully after her. Kookie ran his fingers through his black hair causing his earring to shake with each movement. Yoongi narrowed his eyes at his friend wanting nothing more than to smack his head, he didn't.

He answered his question ,"Yeah i'll go to the stupid party this weekend." Jungkook turned to him and bounced up and down in excitement, "Yess i can't wait now hyung." Yoongi laughed him off,"You're such a child Kookie."

Still feeling irritated from Jungkook staring he abruptly got up and walked out of the cafeteria heading for the one place he felt peace.

Axel and I split ways he was heading to his Spanish class early, which I never understood why he went, he speaks it fluently. I wander the halls not wanting to head to my next class just yet. I clutched my books to my chest strolling down the hallway. I passed by one of the connecting corridors and heard a very faint melody. I glanced down the hall that led to the music room. 'Was there practice right now? In the middle of the day?' I turned down the hall stepping to the slow steady beat of the melody.

It was very slow and sweet I paused in the hall just outside of the door to the music room. I didn't look inside i just sat there in the hall listening. The melody turned sad and the song took me back to a memory i wish stayed buried in the recesses of my mind. A very sad little girl curled up in a tight ball her dress all dirty and torn in different places, her feet all scraped and bleeding. She looks around her not knowing where to go next but knowing she could never return to where she was.

The strong emotions hit me like a wall as I held back tears in my eyes, back against the wall I slid down until i was sitting knees to my chest. After a moment of gathering myself I stood back up i needed to know who was playing such a sad song. I needed to know who was able to inflict such emotion in their music. I peeked around the corner slowly and quietly not trying to get caught. It was a boy.. With very cute subtle curls in his mint hair. 'Wait...mint?' I peered closer. He turned his head to the side leaning into the next notes he played. His eyes were closed as he lost himself in the music. 'Yoongi? He plays piano?' I was completely surprised I was not expecting that. Come to think about it, I have never heard about him being able to play the piano.

He stopped abruptly placing his head in his hands grabbing fists full of his hair. He sighed deeply shoulders slumping slightly. He looked stressed just by his body language. He sat upright again and started playing a different melody slow and soothing. He cleared his throat and started singing very low and timid at first, "Soo Faaarrr Awaayyy.." I just sat there listening eyes wide and my hand over my mouth. He sounded so emotional, so sad like he's experienced a lot of pain. Tears came to my eyes again this time slowly pouring over the edge. "Don't faarrr awaaayyy yeeahh..." he continued getting louder and more emotional as the song went on. His deep voice only making the emotion in it come out more. I held back my urge to run up and hug all his pain away.

I pulled back leaning against the wall. When I thought about it, I never realized how little to nothing i knew about Yoongi. He must have been through some shit in his life to sing with such emotion, such pain. I was too deep in thought I didn't hear him stop.

The light shut off and a very tall Yoongi walked out of the room. He stopped in the doorway staring down on me. For a moment I saw pain but that was soon covered by anger. I opened my mouth to speak but before I could say anything he cut me off. "Were you listening?" I nodded slowly and when i went to apologize he held up his hand. "No one hears about this or i will personally make your life a living hell." he spat the words at me.

I stared at him stunned by his words. He started to walk away I instinctively grabbed his wrist,"Wait."

He yanked his hand from my grip,"Don't touch me!" He growled. I flinched at the intensity in his words. "Don't you know about personal space and privacy?"

"Yes of course i do!"

"Clearly you don't, since spying on people is something you do."

"Are you kidding me? You act like i knew it was you! I heard a piano and I thought it was a practice or something. Trust me if i knew it was you i wouldn't have even came this way."

He glared daggers at me stepping closer to me. I pressed myself against the wall trying to make as much space as I could from him. He leaned toward me his hand on the wall next to me. I held my breath not knowing what to do but stand there frozen. Anxiety creeping up as my mind comprehended how close he was.

He laughed looking down for a second before returning his gaze to me. His deep brown eyes like a big pool of chocolate making me want to never look away. "Disappointed to find out it was me and not someone else?" I squirmed under his stare wishing i hadn't walked down this hall. He ran a finger down my face as he scanned my face for a reaction. I tensed under his touch my dream coming to mind. I didn't say anything, i couldn't, afraid that if i did my voice would only reveal how i was really feeling at that moment. He leaned down to my ear "What's wrong? Cat's got your tongue?" He laughed for a second his breath brushing against my skin. A chill running down my spine.

The bell rang signaling the end of lunch. He looked up at the ceiling and i saw my chance to get away. I stepped out from in front of him and hurried away to class hoping that he didn't notice how much i was shaking.'Oh for the love of ...' i still have last period with him. I looked down regretting ever going down that hall, he makes me even more nervous than I've ever experienced. I may have a very small amount of social anxiety but for the most part i got along with guys and rarely got nervous around them. I was flustered by him and i kept having these thoughts of him. How would i be able to face him now ughh.

Last period was here and I was absolutely dreading it. I sat in my normal seat in the back of the class. I opened my notes and started looking at the ideas i had scribbled down for the project with a few little side notes on possibly adding lyrics to some parts. I peered around the room searching for the biggest pain in my ass. I didn't see him at all, not even in his usual seat. I was confused i just saw him a few hours ago. I mentally shook myself not wanting to remember the very awkward encounter i just had with said pain in the ass.

"Aww did you miss me?" I jumped at the sudden deep voice knowing damn well who it was.

"No i didn't actually. I was looking for you hoping you decided to skip today. Damn looks like you decided to show up." i snapped at him. He wasn't phased at all he just smiled his adorable gummy smile. My heart melted.

"I would never miss a chance to see your pretty face." He said coolly while he sat down next to me. I scoffed,"HA you're hilarious. Nice try your charm doesn't work here." He narrowed his eyes at me looking at me like I was a puzzle he needed to solve.

I scribbled some more ideas that came to my mind as we spoke. I shook off his gaze and pushed my notebook to him, "here's some ideas i've come up with the last few days." He peered at the notebook studying it. He nodded, "Not bad."

We bounced ideas off each other the rest of class. Every now and then he would try and throw a flirtatious comment and i just kept batting them away with sarcasm. The bell rang and we gathered our things, heading out the door and into the hall. I looked over at Yoongi his smug smile gone for the moment. "Yoongi." He looked over at me curiously. "Maybe we should include some of your piano skills in the project." I offered up the idea to him bracing for his response. His expression tensed as he thought it over. He broke eye contact and looked down his minty bangs now covering his eyes. "No."

"What? Why not? You're really good." I said the compliment with a smile.

His body tensed up,"I said no Rose.."

"But.." He slammed his hand against the locker next to him. "I said no. I told you not to ever mention what you saw or heard ever again." He replied through gritted teeth. I gulped,"I..I'm sorry i won't mention it again." He turned around swiftly and walked off his head still down, His hands balled into fists.

"Sorry about Yoongi he has a temper." a deep gentle voice spoke to me. I turned my head to see none other than Jungkook. His tall lean body next to me. He stood there looking towards Yoongi. He had black hair that split at a weird angle and some of his hair was off to one side, for the most part it was straight. His earring, dangling down from his ear, caught the light and glistening beautifully. He was stunning his dark eyes scanning the hall intensely. He had a white button up on with the top two buttons undone exposing his collarbone and part of his chest, His camo pattern jacket unzipped and barely hanging on to his broad shoulders. With his hands in the pockets of his black skinny jeans he turned and looked at me."Enjoying the view?" I blushed and looked down at my boots.

To be fair he is really freaking hot so yeah of course i was enjoying the view. "I'm Jungkook nice to meet you." He reached his hand out. I took it and he lifted my hand to his lips and laid a gentle kiss on it. I blushed even more "I'm Rose" i giggled.

"Rose, that's really pretty. So Rose are you busy this weekend?"

#bts #btsfanfic #fanfic #smuttyfanfic #smutty #army #houseofcardsbook #wattpad #bts fanfic #bts smut

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nuggets-and-french-fries · 4 years

Text

Taron Egerton: Merry Christmas Darling.

This is day 14 of the December imagines. This wasn’t exactly a request. It was a dream that I had and @sarahegerton96 helped me come up with a way to extend it. So go grab a snack and some hot chocolate and get ready to enjoy some major Taron fluffiness and of course a good dose of Taron smut.

Please Excuse the mistakes in this.

Inspiration: A Christmas themed dream I had a while ago.

Enjoy!

P.S: In order to read this, there is a picture that you need to look at and keep in mind. This is what the kitchen will look like, so yeah, keep that in mind please.

P.P.S: Instead of saying y/n, I’m using the name Bree. Please feel free to read as though it’s your name mentioned in this.

===

Life with Taron has not always been that easy due his fame but it had its sweet moments. One of the sweet moments? Christmas. Taron always made it a point to make it a special and magical time. He always did the cooking for Christmas dinner and you always prepared the house for your guests arrival. However, your Christmas routine had changed slightly when little Madeline-Joy joined your family. She was a welcome gift. She had your husband’s eyes, nose and hair colour and she possessed your Smile. Of course she had to have her own little trait. She had curly-ish hair and she was as cute as a button, and much like her name, she was a joy to have around.

Bree was in Maddy’s nursery as she changed the little girl’s nappy. “Hello my sweet girl.” She cooed as the baby smiled up at her. “Mama.” Maddy babbled. Bree laughed and zipped up her onesie and stood her up. Just before she held the baby in her arms, she could hear the sound of Christmas classics filling the house. She could also hear Taron singing. Most likely singing into the whisk as he often did at this time of year. Bree chuckled and picked Maddy up, spinning her around. Earning her the most glorious string of laughter escaping her daughter’s lips. “Should we go see what papa is up to?” Bree asked and Maddy nodded her head vigorously. “Ok, let’s go.” She said as she walked downstairs.

Taron could hear his wife walk downstairs and as she walked into view of the kitchen, Taron stopped and smiled at his two girls. Seeing her father, Maddy squealed and waved at him as she always did when she saw him. Taron waved back at her and blew them a kiss. Maddy smiled and buried her head into her mother’s chest. They both watched as Taron turned around and put the turkey in the oven. When that was done, Taron walked over to Bree and took Maddy from her arms and started to sway with her to Nat King Cole’s ‘the Christmas song.’ Maddy squealed in delight as Taron dipped her dramatically and showered her in kisses. Bree watched her husband and daughter bond over the many songs they danced to. Her heart growing warm at the sound of their laughter and Maddy squealing ‘Papa’ at the top of her lungs when his stubble would tickle her skin from all of his kisses.

Eventually Taron and Maddy walk toward Bree. “My two goofballs.” She cooed as Taron wrapped an arm around her. He leaned down and kissed Bree softly. “I love you baby.” He whispered against her lips. Bree smiled. “I love you.” She replied as she hugged him as best she could and all the three of them started to sway gently to the slow music now playing. Taron humming softly to the music. Bree began to feel her eyes close as she enjoyed this tender moment.

After dancing with her father, Maddy laid her small head on Taron’s chest. Her tiny left hand starts playing with the material of his shirt and her other hand gripped his arm as he held her as close as he could with one arm. Both of her parents watching as her tired eyes fluttered shut. Her long lashes resting against her cheeks. Bree looked up at Taron and smiled at each other. “We should put her in her room.” Taron said and she nodded in agreement. Making their way up to her room, Maddy stirred and Taron ran his fingers through her curls, calming the small child. The bond they shared always amazed Bree. He was such a good father and Maddy adored him. She was definitely a daddy’s girl, which was both good and bad. Bad because when he was working away from home, it would almost end with Maddy in tears cause he wasn’t there to kiss her goodnight.

Reaching her room, Taron kissed her and laid her down. Pulling her blanket over her and tucking her little moomintroll toy under arm. He brushed her hair out of her face and kissed her once more before both he and Bree retreated to their room to rest as well. Taron took off the apron he was wearing. “You are really good with her.” Bree said as she hugged Taron. Taron’s arms went around her waist and he rested his chin on the top of her head. “She’s one of the best things to ever happen to me.” He replied as Bree pulled away and connected her lips with his in a loving kiss. Taron sighed into the kiss. His hands holding her close to his body. Bree broke the kiss and looked at him. “You know, she seemed pretty tired and we have a few hours before anyone arrives. You wanna fool around?” Bree asked and Taron crashed his lips to her neck. She chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes?” Bree said and Taron nodded against her skin. His tongue occasionally flicking the bite marks he left behind.

Bree’s hands finding their way into his hair, slightly tugging at the ends. Taron moaned and pulled away from his wife to pull her shirt off. When his landed on her braless chest, he growled. The heat rushing to her core. Taron licked his lips and she stepped back from him, giving him a playful look. “Play fair.” Taron whined. Her eyes traveled up and down his clothed body and he got the hint. He practically ripped his clothes off, leaving his boxers on and attacked her. Playfully tackling her. Both of them landing on their bed laughing. “Dork.” Bree muttered and Taron just smiled down at her. Bree’s hands held his face gently and she leaned up to kiss his lips gently. They broke apart and smiled at each other. “I love you Cariad.” Taron whispered. “I love you too. So much.” She replied as his lips met hers again.

Taron didn’t want to rush into sex, he wanted to make sure Bree felt loved and cherished. His lips kissed her lips and every inch of her body. When he reached her hips, he kissed them slowly and softly, making sure to keep eye contact with her. Bree’s body shivered at his touch and she hummed happily. Taron smirked when he heard the moan the escaped her lips. He moved closer to her dripping core. “So wet for me.” Taron muttered as he ran a finger up from her entrance to her clit. Bree nodded. “Tell me what you want baby.” Taron instructed. “I want you to make love to me.” Bree replied as she closed her eyes and enjoyed her husband’s touch. “You’re wish is my command.” Taron replied before his tongue ghosted along her folds. Sucking in a breath, she hummed in pleasure. Taron flicked his tongue against her and the feeling of electricity shot through her body like a bolt of lightening. Bree bucked her hips and her husband chuckled.

Her hands went to the back of his head to try and push him closer to her. “Hmmm baby, right there.” Bree moaned as he sucked on her clit. Taron decided to insert a couple fingers and he began to move them slowly. Bree bit her lower lip and enjoyed the feeling. Before long, she could feel the knot in her belly tighten and as she clenched around Taron’s fingers, she knew he could tell how close she was as well. “Right there. Don’t stop.” Bree moaned as he moved his fingers faster. Bree came a few minutes later and Taron pulled away from her, watching as her body shuddered from the pleasure he inflicted upon her body. When she came down from her high, Bree opened her eyes and moaned at the sight of Taron. His hair messy from her touch and his lips swollen and red from his pleasuring her. “You look fucking adorable like that.” Bree said as she caught her breath. Taron simply smiled in reply.

Taron moved up her body and kissed her lips. Bree could taste herself on his tongue as it danced with hers in passion. Taron pulled away with her bottom lip between his teeth as he tugged on it. Enticing more pleasure to course through her veins. “I need you baby.” Bree whined slightly and Taron was quick to remove his boxers. Bree was always in awe at how big he was but it always excited her at the same time. She got to sleep with the man that so many people fantasized about. She got to feel his thighs against hers and she got to feel him in the most intimate way. He made her endlessly happy. Bree wouldn’t trade him for the world.

Taron pushed himself into her and she held on to his arms as he sunk into her the rest of the way. Him filling her deliciously well. Taron began to thrust into her faster and faster until he set a steady pace. Slapping skin could be heard and their moans filled the air. Her legs resting on Taron’s shoulders as he looked down at her features. “Open your eyes.” Taron instructed but she shook her head. Taron stopped his actions and Bree whined. He chuckled and changed positions so that he was closer to her. Her arms wrapped themselves around his neck as he kissed her lips. He started to move again and her legs encircled his waist in attempt to keep him close to her. The feel of him on top of her was much more intimate then their previous position. “Fuck, you feel so good baby.” Bree moaned as he laid his head in the crook of her neck, peppering small kisses on the sensitive spot.

Eventually, both of them could feel how close they were and without saying a word to him, Taron locked eyes with her and nodded his head as if to tell her to let go. They both gave into the feeling of their orgasms and writhed and shuddered against each other. Reveling in the feeling, Bree kissed her husband’s lips to conceal her moans. Once they had come down from their highs, Taron laid on top of her panting. She ran her fingers through his sweaty hair and kissed his forehead. Both of them enjoying to be close to one another.

A couple hours later, Taron was changing Maddy into her Christmas outfit that his mother had bought for her. He was excited for Bree to see it as he had been under strict orders not to show her until the night of their Christmas dinner get together.

(I couldn’t resist this one. It’s super cute and I feel like this fits the imagine really well and look at the little glasses....Oh so adorable right?)

“You my darling girl, look absolutely adorable.” Taron said as he stood the girl up and smoothed down her dress. She smiled brightly at him. “I love you so much baby girl.” Taron said as he kissed her cheek. She threw her little arms around him and hugged him. “Love you papa.” Maddy attempted. Taron’s heart melted at the sound of her little voice. “Shall we go show mama your dress?” Taron asked as he put the glasses on to her face. Maddy nodded at him and he took her downstairs to where his wife was setting the table.

“Bree, look.” Taron said. She turned around and her eyes landed on Madeline. “Oh my gosh.” She gasped. “I pretty?” Maddy asked, making Bree and Taron laugh. “Yes baby, you look beautiful. I see nan bought you glasses as well.” She said as she rubbed her daughter’s back. “Yeah.” Maddy giggled. “You look just like your papa.” Bree said as Bree kissed her cheek and ruffled her curls. “Hey, I just did her hair.” Taron whined. Bree laughed and ruffled his hair as well. “Oh well. You two look better for it.” She joked and he rolled his eyes. He walked off to fix his and Maddy’s hair.

While he was doing that, the doorbell rang. “T, they’re here.” Bree called as she walked to the front door. Bree opened the door and was greeted by a heavily pregnant Sarah. “Come in you two, it’s freezing out here.” Bree said as she ushered Sarah and Richard into the house. “Thanks Bree.” Sarah said gratefully. Bree took their coats and they walked into the living room and sat on the sofa. “Taron should be down in a minute. He’s fussing over his and Maddy’s hair.” Bree said as she sat down herself. “How are you feeling?” Bree asked as Sarah rubbed her belly. “Tired and sore. I don’t this child has any desire to be born.” Sarah sighed and Bree chuckled. “Trust me, it’s well worth the wait.” She said as Taron came down the stairs with an upset looking Madeline. “She didn’t want to come down or take the glasses off.” Taron explained as he greeted his friends.

A few minutes later, their other guests arrived and before they knew it, their house was full of their family and friends. Bree talked with everyone while Taron checked the food and Maddy played with the other kids there. When the food was all ready, everyone gathered at the table and sat down. The food was consumed by everyone except for Maddy who decided that she wasn’t going to eat what her father had made. The little girl fed the floor instead and when Taron saw this, he gave his daughter a warning glance. Bree noticed this and leaned closer to her husband’s ear. “What’s wrong?” She whispered. “Look on the ground.” He said and Bree saw that Maddy had thrown her food again. Bree looked at her daughter and shook her head. Taron put some more food on her plate and she returned her father’s warning glare. “Madeline.” He warned quietly as she picked up a piece of turkey and threatened to drop it on the floor. She watched him to see if she could get away with it. When she realized that she couldn’t, she put it on her plate and waited for him to look away from her. When he did, she took her chance. Little did she know that her uncle Richard was watching this.

“You know Taron, this is really good mate.” He complimented. Taron smiled gratefully. “Thanks Rich. I’m glad you like it.” He replied with a warm smile as he went back to talking with Bree. Richard had to stifle a laugh when the little girl looked between her father and the apple sauce on her plate. Richard knew that Madeline was planning something in that head of hers. Her little eyes darting around as she looked to see if anyone was watching her. Her eyes locked with Richard’s and he could see the plan in her head dissipate. She smiled cheekily at him and put a carrot slice in her mouth, giving him her puppy eyes. There was no denying who her father was.

When dinner was done, Bree and Taron brought out dessert but they made the mistake of leaving Maddy’s plate on her tray. Maddy took the opportunity to decorate her father’s chair with the left over potato and gravy. Maddy dropped some on his chair. Before Richard could warn Taron, the Welshman sat down and his smile fell. Richard cringed and Maddy smiled at her father. Bree looked at her husband with concern. “Taron, are you ok?” She asked as she laid her hand on his shoulder. “When you looked at Maddy’s plate, did she have anything left on it?” He asked as he tried to keep calm now that everyone was looking at him. “Yeah, she had potato and grav-” She started as her eyes went to the child’s plate. The potato and gravy had disappeared. Bree had to bite back the smile that threatened to show. “I’m sorry baby. I should have taken the plate from her.” Bree said as she swallowed her laughter. Taron was beyond embarrassed and disappointed in his daughter. He felt like crying. “Why don’t we all go into the living room while Taron gets cleaned up.” Sarah said as she stood up. Everyone followed her.

Taron stood up and Bree helped him wipe the food from his pants. He walked upstairs and Bree took Maddy from her highchair and followed him. Once in the room, Bree shut the door and placed Maddy on the bed. “Taron? Baby are you ok?” Bree asked as she heard him looking for another pair of jeans. “Yup, fine.” He replied shortly. Bree knew he was upset. “Hand me your jeans and I’ll go soak them.” She offered. “It’s fine Bree.” He said as he walked out of the walk in closet. When he turned to leave the room, Bree saw an apple sauce handprint on his back. She sniggered and Taron turned to face her. “What?” He asked but was afraid to know. “By any chance, did you feel her hand on your back at any point during dinner?” Bree asked with amusement. Taron closed his eyes and huffed. He nodded. “What did she do?” He asked. “Apple.” Maddy announced happily. Bree burst out laughing and Taron cracked a smile. “You are a little stinker.” Taron said as he kissed his daughter’s cheek. “What you did wasn’t nice little one. What do you say to Papa?” Bree asked the little girl whose smile dropped instantly. Her eyes grew glossy with tears and her little lip quivered. Maddy sniffed at an attempt to stop her tears. She knew she was in trouble.

Madeline didn’t say anything, she simply reached for her father and he took her. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and cried. Bree got him another shirt while he held the girl in his arms and rubbed her back. “Sorry.” Maddy muttered in her own little way. “Thank you baby girl. Let’s dry those tears and go back downstairs for dessert ok?” Taron asked and Maddy snuggled into him more, not wanting to let him go. “Should we put you to bed?” Bree asked as she handed Taron another shirt. Bree took Maddy and Taron quickly replaced the shirt he was wearing. “Papa.” Maddy said as she reached for him. He gladly took her and they went downstairs to enjoy the rest of their night.

By the time everyone left, Madeline was on the brink of sleep. “Why don’t we just go up now and clean up tomorrow.” Bree suggested and Taron nodded. They turned all the lights off and walked upstairs to their room. Taron laid Maddy on the bed and him and Bree got ready for bed. Once she was ready, Bree climbed into bed and Madeline curled into her side. From her very Christmas, Taron and Bree put Christmas Eve aside for a family sleepover. They would place their daughter between them and would sing her Christmas carols. It was Bree’s favorite thing to do.

Bree watched as her husband walked around the room, preparing for bed. “I’m sorry about tonight. I know it was embarrassing for you.” Bree apologized. Taron got into bed and leaned over carefully and kissed his wife. “It’s not your fault honey. She was probably just mad at me because I caught her throwing her food on the ground. She’ll grow out of it.” He explained and Bree smiled in thanks. “Taron?” Bree asked as he turned out the light. “Yes baby?” He asked in reply. “I love you and Madeline so much.” Bree whispered. Taron caressed her cheek and they smiled at each other. Maddy stirred between them and they saw that her big green eyes were open and watching Taron. “Why don’t you and mama close your eyes and I’ll sing to you.” Taron suggested and both girls closed their eyes.

Taron hummed random Christmas songs and before too long, Bree was sound asleep but Maddy had other plans. She opened her eyes and saw that Taron was laying on his back. She climbed on to her father. “Hello princess.” He whispered as he wrapped his strong arms around her small frame and held her close. Her little fingers tracing patterns on his bare chest. “Night, night my angel.” He whispered to his now sleeping daughter. Bree smiled as she briefly opened her eyes. “Merry Christmas Darling.” She said softly as she snuggled into Taron’s side. He looked at her and she kissed his lips tenderly before the three of them fell asleep.

Tag List: @sarahegerton96 @rocknrollmadden @jobanan23 @superthiccthighssavelives @dogmom2014 @hauntedflamingo @softeggsy @eggsyobsessed @mairyleo

#december14

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fernwehbookworm · 5 years

Text

Woke The F*ck Up- Chapter 10

May 10th, 2017

Lena sat at her desk with her earphones plugged in. The best Lionel could buy because how else would you make up for shipping your fifteen, now seventeen, year old daughter to college way earlier than she should be. Lena wasn’t upset though, high school bored her at twelve so at least college grabbed her attention. Also, she was away from Luthor Mansion most of the year this way, in the single dorm room, Lionel also paid for, only going home when they closed the dorms over winter and summer break. Even then she spent most of her time doing stupid shit with Ronnie. Ronnie who always pushed her limits, mentally and physically. She was only a year older but they had both done so much growing together. So much avoiding their families too. Now she lay fast asleep in Lena’s bed as the hour was quickly approaching three. It was Lena’s favorite time of night, everything was quiet in the outside world as the music she was composing repeated through the speakers on her ears.

Ronnie didn’t know about this song was about her. It was Lena working through her feelings the only way she knew how. Maybe it would help her to work up the courage to tell her. To tell Veronica Sinclair that, despite her dysfunctional baggage and her terrible coping mechanisms, she loves her. Lena doesn't know how it happened, or when. One morning she woke up to slip from Veronica’s bed before the owner woke up, one of their unspoken rules and the sunlight was just right, and Lena finally put the word to the confusing emotions. Love. It was a first. But it made sense, her and Ronnie had been sleeping together since they both graduated high school at fourteen and fifteen. It may have been too soon but they always pushed limits. It took Lena three years to figure out love. The song starts again as Lena messes with some of the chords. The software was top of the line and really helped since Lillian forbid her from learning anything besides piano and violin. It was a sick sort of joke, she was skilled enough to compose, not to play.

I come over Quarter past two

Love in my eyes

Blinded by you

Just to get a taste of heaven

I'm on my knees I can't help it

I'm addicted

But I can't stand the

Pain inflicted

In the morning

You're not holding on to me

Tell me what's the point of doing this every night

What you're giving me

Is nothing but a heart

It's a lullaby

Gonna kill my dreams, oh

This is the last time

Baby make up your mind

'Cause I can't keep sleeping in your bed

If you keep messing with my head

Before I slip under your sheets

Can you give me something, please?

I can't keep touching you like this

If it's just temporary bliss

Just temporary bliss

Ronnie stirred and sat up. Lena knew she was getting ready to leave so she paused the music and watched the slender figure in the moonlight. Ronnie gathered her clothing and dressed before santuring over the Lena and pulling her headphones off.

“When do you sleep?”

“Uhhh…” Lena swallowed, it was always hard to think with Ronnie this close.

“That’s what I thought. Are you at least doing something productive?”

“Yes actually. I think this is almost done.” Lena gestures to the laptop with so many different little boxes Veronica doesn't even know where to look.

“Play it for me?”

Lena bites her lip before nodding. Quickly she turns off the box with the lyrics she recorded yesterday and plays just the instrumental. Ronnie listens to the whole thing.

“Lena, that’s great! But where are the lyrics? You have a beautiful voice.”

“I am still working on them. Something isn’t right but hopefully, I can figure it out soon.”

“You should share all this work you do.” Lena snorts back laughter at Ronnie’s idea.

“Really. Lena. You are so good at music.” Lena rolls her eyes.

“Not good enough. If I was I would have actually tested in prodigy at something, instead of excellent at most things. Then Lillian may have actually let me pursue music.”

“Okay, I’ll make you a bet. If you enter the end of year Talent show and win I will… take us on a trip to France this summer after you turn eighteen. If you lose, I won’t ever bring it up again.”

France. One of the most romantic cities in the world. They had always talked about exploring the world after college. That gave Lena hope that maybe this would go better than she feared. Ronnie had always said that this was just friends, with benefits. That she didn't want anything more because what they had was great and they were both too broken by demanding families to be able to function past that. But maybe, just maybe, it was all just words. Maybe Lena just had to make the first move.

“Okay. Okay. On one condition. You don’t get to hear the song until I perform it for everyone else.”

Ronnie looks confused but nods anyway. She kisses Lena briefly before leaving her dorm room and Lena slips back on her headphones to continue working.

A week later Lena has a band. She had posted an ad promising a hundred dollars to each person and an extra hundred if they win on top of the prize money. It took some auditions to weed out those just there because they heard money was involved to find people with actual talent. After a week of intense rehearsals so that the new members could learn Lena’s music, Lena felt ready. Finals were over and her stage time slot was rapidly approaching. Lena looked around her, observing the new friendship between the guitarist and the drummer as they lounged on the couches backstage. The drummer sent one of his sticks at the guitarists head and he ducked, laughing as he almost fell off the stool.

The lights were blinding on stage. Lena’s palms sweat as she grips the microphone. But as soon as those opening chords played, something clicked. Like she had been holding her breath for so long, but now she was exhaling. Now she was home. The crowd erupted and exploded to their feet. This was it. This was Lena. Backstage she searched for Ronnie. She was going to tell her. She had to. That is when a woman appeared. Dark hair and skin, Dress suit and professional.

“Lena Luthor?”

“Yes. And you are?”

“Jessica Houng. I am here representing Green Diamond Records. I was sent to find a new face for our company. I believe that you should be that face. You are extremely talented, assuming that was an original song.”

“Y-yes. I wrote and composed it. It was… wow. Green Diamond. The same company behind My Chemical Romance and Linkin Park ? They are two of my biggest inspirations. I love their sound and, oh no, I am rambling to a Green Diamond scout. Shutting up now.” Lena self consciously crosses her arms. Never had she felt so nervous, never had she rambled before, Lillian made sure of that. Jessica just laughs.

“It’s fine Lena. We want you. Contracts are already being made if you want to join us. I guarantee, this time next year you will have an album ready to release.”

Joy bubbled up in Lena. That was everything she ever wanted. Music. Not science or engineering or business, all acceptable pursuits for the Luthor family. Music. Real music. The biggest smile Lena had ever felt emerged on her face. Then it came crashing down. Contract. Lena was still seventeen so she would need permission.

“I...I can’t. I am only seventeen. My mother hates music. She would never let me.”

“Well, that is a shame. I tell you what. Take this card. Call me when you turn eighteen. We will keep your contracts until then. I can even send copies so you can have a lawyer look over them if you wish before you sign on. Please consider it Lena.”

With that Jessica walks away, disappearing into the crowd backstage, waiting for the winner to be announced. It was her. Her band at least. But Lena’s real prize was the little card in her pocket that said “Jessica Houng, Green Diamond Recording.” that was it. A black card with an emerald gem and gold lettering across it spelling out the name and phone number. That was going to be Lena’s future, her way out from the family she hated. Hopefully with the only family that mattered. Lena sees Ronnie backstage. She jerks her head and Lena nods, knowing she wants them to meet in Lena’s room. Lena accepts the words of congratulations as she makes her escape.

Ronnie stood outside her dorm room door. Something was off in her demeanor. She looked…. Unsure.

“Hey,” Lea said smiling and stretching up on her toes to kiss her lover. Ronnie turned to the side so Lena’s kiss landed on her cheek. Lena furrowed her brow but unlocked the door and walked in, setting the trophy and flowers she earned for first place on her desk. She turned to see Ronnie still standing by the door very awkwardly. That was unusual. Ronnie always made herself at home, lounging immediately on the bed or raiding her fridge.

“Ronnie? What is it? Come on, let's celebrate. I won. And you owe me a trip to France.” Lena sauntered up to the other woman, she gently pulls at her crossed arms to try and get her to relax.

“Lena. Stop. We have to talk.” Lena backs away at the harshness in her voice.

“What is it?”

“Was… was that song about me? Is that how you feel? That you…” Ronnie trails off. Lena should have seen this coming. For all her brains and Luthor training she should have seen it. But she was still riding a high from her Green Diamond encounter. Now she was crashing down. Hard. All she could do is take the last of her confidence and tell her.

“I love you, Ronnie. I have been in love with you for a long time now, I think. And now, now I have a future that I am really looking forward to, one I want to share with you. Come with me when I turn eighteen. We can go to Metropolis and start new lives. Together.”

Ronnie’s mouth open and closed. Opened and closed. She exhaled long and loud. Then she shook her head. Veronica Sinclair walked out of Lena Luthor’s dorm room without another word. But it was enough. Enough for Lena’s heart to shatter.

November 6th, 2017

Kara’s lips trace the gentle curve of Lena’s neck up to the strong line of her jaw. The soft hotel sheets tangle around their waists as their bare torsos press together. Lena moans into Kara’s hair as Kara brushes across a stiff nipple and she digs her blunted nails into Kara’s shoulders. The first encounter was rushed and heated the night before, barely making it back to the hotel. The second time even more so. Now, as the sun rose and sleep still clouded their eyes, Kara was taking her time. She was slowly and gently exploring Lena in a way she hadn’t ever before. Lena was lost in the barely-there touches that rose goosebumps all over her body, the brush of lips that roamed freely, and the natural scent of Kara that Lena always desperately tried to remember but never did justice.

Kara begins to make her way further down Lena’s body as sighs escape Lena’s lips, occasionally punctuated with a moan. She can feel Kara smiling against her skin whenever she earns one of those. Kara’s tongue begins to punctuate each kiss earning more moans from Lena. She gasps as Kara dips her tongue into her navel then nips just below it. Lena is trying hard not to squirm against Kara’s stomach because she knows this is supposed to be sweet but Lena’s need is growing with each press of her lips.

“Kara…” Lena whines out.

Kara smiles, knowing what she is doing to the singer, but she nods anyway. Just as slowly as anything else Kara runs her tongue through Lena’s dripping folds. Lena stiffens then relaxes with a sigh, gently weaving her fingers into blonde hair that is wild from multiple orgasms and sleep. Kara laps slowly through Lena, circling her clit and starting again from Lena’s entrance. Just as Lena is about to ask for more Kara slips a finger inside. She thrusts precisely, brushing Lena’s front wall as her teeth graze her clit before soothing it again with her tongue. In a few short strokes, Lena comes with a short choked noise as the air catches in her lungs and her entire body tenses with pleasure. Kara removers her finger but continues to lick gently at her clit until Lena releases with a sigh. Lena tugs on Kara’s hair to bring her back up and kiss her lips. She moans slightly at the taste of herself still on Kara’s lips.

“Well, that is certainly one way to wake up,” Lena says and Kara nuzzles into her neck.

“You just looked so beautiful in the morning sun. I had to touch you.” Lena feels her cheeks heat and she is so glad Kara is still hiding in her neck.

“I… I don’t deserve you, Kara Danvers.” Kara rolls off of Lena and props herself on an elbow. With her free hand, she tucks hair behind Lena’s ear.

“You can’t believe that. Jess ratted you out. I know how much you donate to children’s hospitals and charities. I know the STEM and Music programs you help fund all over the United States. You are a good person and you deserve this.”

Lena turns away from Kara and looks out the window. Kara traces her jaw with her finger and Lena unconsciously leans back into Kara’s hand and meets her sky blue eyes.

“You know what I mean. I do those things to ease my guilt. I am not a good person. I have been selfish, I have taken or purchased everything I have ever wanted since I became famous.”

“What about since we met? Have you felt like that?” Lena furrows her brow in concentration as she really thinks about Kara’s question.

“No…” She says slowly.

“Lena, you have been hurt. You have been lonely. I was the same way after my parents died. I spent a couple of months in a group home. I lashed out. I got in so many fights. Then when the Danvers’ adopted me, Alex and I got in so many fights that we were never allowed in the same room alone. If I hadn’t had them though, if I hadn’t had Jeremiah enrolling me in every type of fighting class, if I hadn’t had that love, who knows where I would have ended up. I could have bounced around from home to home and school to school until I was eighteen or ran away. Ended up on the streets even. You know, I looked up a couple of people from that group home one time. Most are either in jail, drug addicts, or dead. Hurt does that to people. It causes us to lash out, to look for things to stop the hurt. It doesn't make you a bad person. What makes you a good person is those little things that you do like spending most of your money on children who will never know who changed their life.” Kara watches emotions flick across Lena’s features the whole time she talks. Lena’s eyes shine like emeralds as tears spring to her eyes.

“Kara, I...I lo-” Kara quickly presses a kiss to Lena’s lips and gets up.

“Okay, enough serious talk. Lena, I want to be with you. So no more of this ‘I don't’ deserve you,’ crap. I want to go explore… Where are we again?” The hurt and confusion that flashes across Lena’s face is replaced with a laugh and Lena stands to follow Kara to their suitcases. They had landed in the same airport and quickly made their way to the hotel last night, much to Jess’ amusement. They had dumped everything by the door as Kara quickly swept the singer into her arms.

“We are in Munich. Pity we missed Oktoberfest.” Lena smirks and Kara rolls her eyes.

“I don’t drink.”

“But seeing you in a Dirndl would have been amazing.” Lena bites her bottom lip and looks more like she is enjoying Kara without clothes than with. Kara blushes.

“I have no idea what that is but I don’t think I want to know.”

Lena laughs and begins to sift through her suitcase to look for clothes to wear.

“So what are we going to do today? Since you know so much.” Kara asks as she successfully extracts a pair of black jeans and a white pocket t-shirt from her duffle.

“I figured we could start at Marienplatz, Marien Square, and hit up a few other tourist traps and museums. I’d like to go to Viktualienmarkt for lunch and explore the booths.”

“Easy there tiger, we don’t have to do it all in one day.” Kara pulls her t-shirt over her head and is greeted with Lena’s toothy grin.

“That’s right, we have three whole days together. You are even coming to a concert.”

“And I have a surprise for you.” Kara pulls out her red and blue leather jacket and slips it on as well. Lena eyes it, trying to figure out what Kara meant.

“Go on, get dressed. But you may want to wear pants.” Kara nods to the dress in Lena’s hands and she puts it back. A knock at the door.

“I got it. You change.” Lena nods, still very confused as she finds her own jeans and green blouse. Lena pokes her head around the corner when she hears Jess’ muffled voice.

“Jess?”

“Hello, Lena. Anyway, What you requested is downstairs. The valet boy is paid to watch it until you get there. Lena, I emailed you a list of places its recommended people visit as well as where your reservations are for dinner tonight. Have fun you two.” Jess winks and Kara laughs and bids her goodbye before shutting the door.

“Ready?” Kara asks, raising an eyebrow at Lena’s half on shirt, Lena just rolls her eyes as she finishes putting her head through the hole and heads to the bathroom in an attempt to tame her clearly sex tangled hair and to cover up Kara’s eager love marks. Lena pauses slightly at that word, remembering how Kara cut her off in bed. Did Kara know what she was about to say? Lena didn’t even know until it was already on its way out of her mouth. Did Kara not feel the same? No, she clearly cared about Lena. Maybe she didn't know. Maybe she knew Lena was about to say something she wasn’t ready for. Was she ready for love? The only other time she told someone she loved them it ended in complete heartbreak. Maybe Kara was saving her from crossing a line neither of them were ready for. It also could have just been the post-orgasmic feelings.

“I can hear you thinking again,” Kara says from the bathroom door and startles Lena out of her reverie.

“Come on, you can’t be so serious the whole time I’m here.” Lena rolls her eyes.

“I am not. I am just trying to cover up what you put on my neck.” Lena shoots back and a cocky grin spreads across Kara’s face.

“You weren’t complaining when I put them there.” Lena rolls her eyes again and begins to pack away her makeup, being mostly successful with the coverage. Kara holds out her hand and Lena laces her fingers through Kara’s as she leads them out of the hotel room and to the elevator.

“Do I at least get a hint at what my surprise is?” Lena leans in to whisper in Kara’s ear, allowing her teeth to graze the lobe and Leana laughs softly as Kara audibly gulps. Luckily they were alone.

“You did. I told you to wear pants, remember?”

“I remember…” Lena says a little disappointed.

“Then you will see once we are outside.” Lena huffs her disappointment but leans further into Kara anyway to show she is not actually mad.

They cross the bustling hotel lobby, filled with tourist families readying for a day of exploring. The conversations happening all around them turn into a droning noise as languages intermingle the women’s ears. Outside, Lena looks around for… what, she doesn't know. Kara chuckles and pulls her towards the valet stand. On the other side, a pimply looking teenage boy stands with eyes filled with boredom, but Lena lights up at what she sees next to him. A motorcycle with a jacket and two helmets perched on top.

Kara was excited when she thought of this. The model was the same as the one Winn had got her, just without all the bells and whistles, it was a sleek black. Karas leather jacket was red and blue with a matching blue helmet. For Lena, Kara had asked Jess to get black with a green accent on both helmet and jacket.

“You brought your motorcycle?” Lena asks, both excited and astonished. Kara laughs.

“More like rented. And technically you rented it. I am just your driver for the day.” Kara holds up Lena’s jacket and helps her into it. When Kara hands her the helmet Lena looks nervous. Kara raises an eyebrow.

“I...I’ve never been on a motorcycle.”

“Just relax. Move with me. I know you can do that. But if you don’t want to I can have Jess rent a car.” Kara looked a little smug at her prediction that Lena would love this but concern for her overshadowed that. Lena smiles.

“Let's do this.” She fits the helmet over her head while Kara zips her own jacket and pulls her helmet on.

Kara gets on the bike and holds Lena’s hand as she straddles it as well. The way Lena settles against her feels so right. Lena feels so right. Guilt washes over Kara as she starts the engine. Lena was going to say she loved her, she knew that. But Lena didn’t know. Lena didn’t know that when Kara wasn’t with her, she was risking her life to try and save the city she loved. She was living outside the law and the new police chief had it out for her. At least this one was putting away Cadmus members also but he had decided that ‘vigilantism was making matter worse because no one should break the law, no matter their intentions.

If Lena knew than she could be in as much trouble as Winn and James if they were caught. But how could Kara not tell Lena? Kara was frozen in her indecision, so she cut off Lena’s proclamation so that the line wasn’t crossed. So there was still a line when she knew the truth if she knew the truth.

Lena’s arms tighten around Kara’s waist as she navigates through traffic, weaving in and out of cars with the practiced ease of someone who has done so with bullets flying at her at top speeds on the highway. The day flies past them as they attempt to explore as much of the city as they can. They fall back into bed, exhausted and content, after showering together. Kara wearily wraps her arms around Lena before pressing a kiss between her shoulder blades and replacing her lips with her forehead. Kara tangles their legs together too. Kara insisted on no pajamas even though they were both too tired for more activities.

“I know we spend more nights apart than together, but I don’t sleep as well as I do with you.” Kara mumbles, already half asleep.

“I know. The beds always feels too big without you.” Lena tangles her fingers in one of Kara’s hand at her waist and pulls it up to place a kiss on her knuckles before tucking both of their hands under her chin.

November 7th, 2017

Lena wakes to a quick knocking and then a bellhop rolling in a trolly with their breakfast before quickly leaving. She sighs and attempts to pry herself from Kara’s grip, knowing she has a full day ahead of her. All Kara does is tighten her arm around Lena’s hip and groans softly. Lena chuckles softly and then manages to turn so she is facing Kara, lips almost brushing at the proximity.

“Kara. We have to get up. Or at least I have to. I need to be at soundcheck in two hours and I have a meet and greet before the concert. And I have…”

“Shh… we have at least a half an hour before we really have to get up. You have to barely be Lena Luthor for soundcheck and then your stylist team will do the rest.” Lena laughs and the sound sends joy shooting through Kara and waking her up better than any cup of coffee. Kara smiles at the raven-haired beauty who had pulled back just far enough to look at her.

“Did you just refer to who I am as a singer as a different person?”

“Well yeah. I mean isn’t she? That's the point of the disguise right? I can see a difference in the giggling girl in my arms now and the mask you hide behind to perform. Or maybe it's just such a different part of your personality that it feels like a mask. I don’t really care though. I understand it, the person I am when I fight is different from the person I am otherwise-”

“Kara, you are rambling.” Lena cuts her off with a kiss.

“Yes, sometimes in my head it's two different people. But most of the time it's all me. Although I feel like who I am now and who I was a couple months ago are two different people.”

“Is that good or bad?” Kara asks, concern clear on her face. Lena laughs.

“Good. Very good. For the first time in a long time, I don’t dread the future, or just let life push me forward. I am starting to be truly happy and have… I guess hope. Hope that my life will one day be more than being a bastard Luthor or a famous singer.” Kara grins ear to ear at Lena’s words. Then she kisses her hard. Quickly Kara begins kissing down her neck. Lena moans.

“Kara, I have to get ready.”

“I’ll be quick.”

“You are insatiable,” Lena says even as she tangles her fingers in blonde locks and Kara finds her already bare nipple.

Heat floods Lena’s body instantly. She was just as hungry for Kara. Kara who was focused on lavishing her breasts while her slick heat pressed hard against Lena’s thigh. Kara bites the soft flesh on the underside of Lena’s breast causing a cry of pleasure to escape Lena’s throat. Lena secretly loves that Kara is a biter. It's never harsh but it mixes just the right amount of pain and pleasure. Lena scraps her nails along Kara’s back as she does it again. Kara moans deeply, sending vibrations straight to Lena’s core. Her hips begin to rock up against the blonde, seeking friction to relieve some of the pressure building there. Kara notices and adjusts to press her own thigh against Lena. They both begin to move against each other. Lena pulls Kara backup to kiss her. Their tongues meet in sloppy kisses as moans build with pleasure.

Lena can feel Kara losing her controlled movements as Kara buries her face in Lena’s neck, unable to kiss her with the strangled moans escaping her mouth. Kara is close, and Lena isn’t close enough. Frustration creeps in because she wants to cum with her. As if sensing that, Kara shifts again and two fingers find Lena’s entrance and immediately dive in, curling to find the soft sensitive spot on Lena’s front wall. “Fuck!” Lena screams as pleasure washes over her. Kara tenses above her in her own pleasure, nothing more than a clipped cry escaping to Lena’s ears.

Kara settles back onto Lena with a small twitch of post-orgasmic pleasure leaves her body with her head pillowed on Lena’s breast. Lena laughs softly as Kara nuzzles in deeper.

“I love your boobs,” Kara says causing real laughter from Lena.

“I can tell. And even if I couldn’t the hickies would give it away.” New ones now spotted both even though the ones from Kara’s last visit had just faded away. Lena was just glad Kara kept the marking to the coverable areas now. Kara grins up at Lena before lightly tracing a newly blooming bruise.

“I can’t help it. But hey, ten minutes to spare. Perfect time to cuddle before getting ready.” Lena’s arms instinctively tighten around Kara’s shoulders and lets her eyes drift shut. All too soon Kara is shifting to pull her from the bed and placing a light kiss on her lips before heading to the bathroom. Lena moves around to find appropriate clothes to wear to soundcheck when Kara re-emerges.

“So there is something I need to tell you. And something I need to ask you.” Kara crosses her arms and looks really unsure as she leans against the doorway. Immediately Lena's thoughts begin to fly, like bees in a stirred up hive. She begins to think the worse. Suddenly Kara stands straight and strides towards her.

“Oh no, it's nothing bad. Well, it may be for you, depending on how you feel. I mean-”

“Kara, stop rambling and tell me what the fuck you are trying to tell me.”

“I’m opening a gym.” Kara rushes out. After Lena takes a second to process what she said, she smiles.

“Kara, babe, that's great. Why were you so worried?”

“Because if I do this then I won't be able to come see you as much, if at all. It will be a lot of hours while I get it up and running and even more until I can get people I can trust to run it for a couple of days.”

Lena rests her hands on Kara’s upper arms because she was still so closed off and unsure. Lena tries to ignore the flash of arousal at the tight muscles coiled under the soft skin because Kara needs Lena to be understanding, not her strong suit.

“Kara. Kara look at me. I would never, never , fault you for following your dreams. I told you that I wouldn't give up my music for this relationship and I don't expect you to give up what you love either. If opening this gym is what you want to do, then do it.”

Kara’s eyes shine with emotion as she looks at Lena. Relief floods her features from the secret she had been holding back.

“Thank you,” Kara says softly.

“Now, what else did you want to tell me?” Kara bites her lip as she hesitates to respond.

“Eliza wants to meet you.” She says even quieter than before.

“Y-your foster mom?” Kara nods and Lena drops her hands from her arms and crosses them over her chest. Kara mimics the posture that Lena had just moments before and rubs Lena's arms. Her suddenly closed of position isn't a good sign.

“I have never been good with parents. I don't have much experience with them. My mom died, my new mom was cold and my dad was a mass murdering terrorist. And what if…” Lena trails off, avoiding Kara’s eyes. Kara tilts her chin up softly and places a soft kiss on Lena’s cheek.

“What if what?”

“What if I am not good enough. I know I am not but what if she thinks so too. And, oh God, what if she believes everything the press has said about me. Some of it's true, you know that, but a lot of it is fake or blown way out of proportion and…”

Kara kisses her hard then to stop her rambling.

“First, just be who you are with me and she will love you. Secondly, this whole not good enough thing really has to stop. Lena, is there something big you are hiding from me that keeps this coming up? I haven't run yet and I am not planning to.” Lena shakes her head but Kara can see tears threatening to spill out.

“If it's too much you don't have to meet her, I won't force you to.” Kara watches as Lena chews on her bottom lip, she can see gears turning behind her eyes.

“No, it's not too much. When?”

“I was thinking during your two-week break, After the tour and before you prepare for the new album. Come to Midvale for a few days. I know you will have to do some recording for the album but Jess said she can clear everything else, and the recording you can do in National City afterward. It's only like an hour by train.” Lena laughs softly.

“Of course you already talked to Jess. Do you guys text too?”

“Well yeah,” Kara says seriously and Lena’s jaw drops, she was kidding but also it shouldn't surprise her.

“Of course you do.” Lena sighs. She looks at the time and they should have left five minutes ago.

“Okay get dressed. We are already late as it is. The car should be downstairs.”

“It's not. I told you. I'm your driver this week.” Kara says with a wink before disappearing into the bathroom. A blush floods Lena's cheeks at the thought of riding behind Kara on the motorcycle cycle again. She had spent all of yesterday terribly turned on as she pressed herself to Kara’s back and felt her strong muscles moving in every turn. She gulped and turned away from the now shut the bathroom door to finish getting ready herself before slipping on the black and green jacket Kara got for her to match the helmet.

The entire day had been a rush. Even though Kara mostly stood off to the side and watched Lena Luthor work. Soundcheck was simple as Lena ran through a couple of songs and Kara stood off stage. In between soundcheck and Lena's style team making her over, they had an intense make-out session in the green room. Only breaking apart when Gabriel bursts in. Kara had to quickly remove her hand from under Lena’s shirt as the man tore through the room like a hurricane and was closely followed by his team. Lena was whisked away across the room and Kara was left on the couch pouting at being interrupted. Lena found it amusing at the puppy-like expression on her girlfriend's face but there was nothing to be done.

During the meet and greet Kara hung back with the rest of Lena’s entourage, trying her hardest to blend in. She could have stayed in the green room but she really wanted to watch Lena work.

The woman lit up with her fans. So many young girls and even boys coming up and just trying to get out how much she inspires them to be strong and independent in mostly broken, heavily accented, English made Kara so happy it almost hurt. Especially since Kara knew Lena hardly ever thought that way. Kara successfully was able to be ignored until she spotted a familiar faded shirt next in line. It was one of her shirts. With her face scowling out from behind gloved fists. All in red and blue with 'Maiden of Might’ in big block red and blue letters. It was one of the shirts sold right before she won the championship title. The last match of her career.

When the girl stepped up to Lena, who was standing in front of a black backdrop for pictures, the girl seemed to scan the people off to the side and found what she was looking for when her gaze alighted on Kara. She grinned and said something to Lena that Kara didn't catch. But Lena matched the girl's smile and nodded.

“Hey, Kara! It seems our fan bases do cross over each other. It seems Madison here has been following both our Instagrams and came specifically to see you.” Lena shouts to Kara and motions her closer. Kara laughs and extracts herself from the small group of people she had tried to hide in.

“Well Madison, it's nice to meet you then,” Kara says as she walks over towards them. The girl, more like young women now that Kara is closer, hold out a marker.

“Would you sign my shirt? I followed most of your career and I'm a big fan. I even got into MMA myself. It really helped with my self-confidence but I'm not good enough to go pro like you did

But a huge fan.” She glances at Lena. Of both of you.” She says in an English accent. Kara finishes signing while the girl rambles and lets out a small laugh.

“Well, how about you get a picture with both of us then?” Kara beams down out the girl before casting a questioning look to Lena and Lena nods slightly.

“Really? That would be amazing!”

Both the women pose on either side of Madison. Kara actually flexes an impressive bicep causing Lena’s public smile to slip into a genuine one when she hears the sharp intake of breath and giggling from the crowd watching the exchange. After that cameras flash in nearly every direction now that people realize that Lena Luthor’s Girlfriend is present. After a quick hug between Kara and Madison, Kara tries to fade into the background again but Lena can see people taking pictures of her, even as Kara walks further away to take a phone call. She comes back looking slightly angry but smiles when Lena glances her way and mouths a 'Later.’

As security stops the procession of fans, per Jess’ order to keep to schedule, Kara wanders back over to her girlfriend and hesitantly holds her hand out. She was unsure of how public Lena wanted to be but Lena grins and pulls her closer.

“Want to give them a real treat?”

“What do you mean?” Kara asks.

“Well, most of my fans are LGBT so getting a picture of me kissing my girlfriend would really make their day.”

Kara doesn't waste any time. She kisses Lena hard, still riled up from their make-out session in the break room. It's probably inappropriate to run her tongue along Lena's bottom lip but Kara doesn't care. Lena just meets Kara’s tongue with her own briefly before pulling away. Lena places a light peck and Kara's pouting mouth before waving to the now screaming and cheering fans and heading back into the building, pulling Kara behind her.

Immediately afterward, Lena is swept into hair and makeup again while Kara makes another call to Winn.

“Tell me everything's okay.”

“ Yes. James is back. His shoulder was dislocated and the men got away with what looks like some sort of weapon shipment.”

“It was stupid. Both of you are so stupid. Just because James came on three, three, missions with me does not mean he is ready to go out on his own.” Kara whisper yells into the speaker to avoid being overheard by stagehands bustling through the hallway.

“ Well Detective Sawyer called and insisted and James was going to go whether I helped him or not. He is as stubborn as you are. And when it went south he got out. ”

“Not fucking soon enough. No more. Tell Sawyer I'm working on something else or something next time. When I get home, James is on probation until I say otherwise.”

“So we should have just let them go.with the weapons?”

“Yes, Winn! I'm sure we have missed others too. James risking his life like that, going in alone, that was stupid.”

“ But-”

“Enough. We can argue when we are on the same continent again. Did you get the business license?”

“It's still being processed. I could rush it but I think that's a risk we shouldn't take for the business going in right above our secret base.”

“No, you're right. Okay, well, text me if it comes through. When I get back we can start looking at contractors.”

“Okay. Bye Kara. This won't happen again so please just enjoy your trip.”

“Bye Winn.”

Kara hangs up and rubs her face and tries to shake the tension from her shoulders before going back into the room. She grabs a water from the mini-fridge and smiles at Lena in her element. Lena smiles back and sticks her tongue out at her. It's so freaking cute Kara could melt. Kara plops back into the couch that they had made out on earlier and just watches her girlfriend work. Jess talks to her about things going on for the show and the schedule for the next week. But Kara tunes her out. And just watches, still mulling over what Winn had told her. He called earlier to tell her that James might be in over his head and all it did was make her angry and worried. Very worried. He had gone in on a tip from Maggie and was just going to observe and follow until a misstep got him spotted and he barely escaped with a few dents in his new Guardian armor and a dislocated shoulder from jumping from a second-story window. Also, Kara thinks, really? Guardian? That's the name he is going with. It annoyed Kara that he wanted the full body armor. It was much less stealthy and it was no wonder he got caught. Kara's anyonce must show on her face because Lena casts her a questioning glance. All of a sudden it's no longer the soft Lena in front of her. It's Lena Luthor, the hardened diva star and it makes Kara feel a little uncomfortable. Because it's not her Lena. Kara pushes the feeling aside and smiles back at her. When her team is done she shoos them out of the room and sits beside her on the couch.

“Okay, what's wrong? You keep disappearing to make phone calls and then coming back pissed.” Lena says as she pulls both of Kara's hands into her own, rubbing soothing circles with her thumbs. Kara chews her lip. She should just tell her. She should. But then Lena will get mad so she shouldn't do that right before her performance. She didn't want to fight right now because Kara knew it would be one, Lena was already pissed when she disappeared to save James the first time. They got so little time together and telling her would just ruin it.

“It's nothing. Just some issues with getting the business license and some other stuff like that. Winn is on it but it's just frustrating is all. I'm impatient to get started on it I guess.”

“That's all?”

Kara nods, biting her tongue. Lena begins playing with Kara's fingers to distract herself from the nagging feeling that Kara just lied to her. She knew it was her own trust issues projecting themselves.

“So after the concert, there is usually a party. I haven't been going to them but I didn't know if you wanted to. I know you don't drink or anything but there is always music and dancing and famous people.”

“That sounds great Lee, I am always down for dancing and music.”

Lena grins and kisses her quickly before a knock on the door and Jess is calling Lena to the stage. The two women walk hand and hand until they get to Lena’s entrance point. Kara watches the whole performance off stage. Lena doesn't leave the stage once, although her dancers, backup singers, and instrumentalists do a couple times. The crowd is wild throughout the whole thing and even call her back out for an encore, which Lena indulges in after a heated, adrenaline-filled kiss, with Kara.

Once Lena is off stage for good, she is practically dragging Kara back to the dressing room and locking the door. Before Kara can even say a word, Lena’s hot mouth is on hers and she is tugging Kara’s shirt over her head and pushing her towards the couch. Lena’s tongue is pushing past Kara’s lips and Kara lets it slide against her own. Kara moans at the contact and her hands find Lena’s waist. Lena bites Kara’s lower lip and it causes her to moan again. Lena unbuttons Kara’s pants, pushing them and her underwear down before gently pushing Kara onto the couch. That’s the only thing Lena plans on doing gently. Lena moves to Kara’s neck, sucking and biting then soothing with her tongue. Kara was already fighting moans when Lena’s hand begins rubbing her lower lips as well. A finger slides into Kara’s already dripping sex and brushes her clit causing a choked cry to escape.

“Fuck Lena. Fuck.” Kara manages as Lena slips a finger inside. Kara digs her nails into Lena’s back and Lena is relishing it. Relishing fucking her girlfriend in her dressing room during her post-show adrenaline high. Lena adds another finger and sets a punishing pace, her thumb brushing Kara’s clit with each thrust. Kara is no longer holding back her moans as Lena sucks at the top of her soft breast still clad in a blue lace bra. Without warning, Kara stiffens under Lena and her inner muscles clamp down on Lena’s fingers. Lena keeps moving within her girlfriend, only slowing when she relaxes back into the couch cushions and the kisses her on the corner of the mouth. Kara was still panting slightly and sweat beads her forehead. Lena collapses next to her grinning wide at how hard she made Kara cum.

“Wow, that was… hot.” Kara manages while catching her breath. Lena laughs.

“Sorry, I get a little…”

“Horney?” Kara tries to supply.

“And assertive. After a show. And this is the first time I could do something about it.”

“Well, I’d like to return the favor.” Lena shakes her head.

“No time if we are going to make it to that after-party. And-” a knock on the door. “Right on time.” Lena stands and throws Kara’s shirt to her, still halfway across the room. Kara scrambles to pull on her pants and underwear and pull her shirt back on while Lena puts her own shirt back on. She unlocks the door and Gabrielle bursts in again. Immediately he begins spouting in French as he remakes Lena into a more casual look for a party. Once she is dressed in black leather pants, a black tank-top blouse, and black heels, Gabrielle pulls Kara to her feet before she can think to protest and is holding different shirts up to her.

“What is happening?” Kara asks Lena, who is smirking from her dressing chair.

“Gabrielle is of the impression that to be seen with me you need a wardrobe upgrade for tonight.”

“Umm… yeah, girly was never my thing.” Kara says as Gabrielle holds up a skimpy dress before quickly discarding it.

After a few more minutes of careful criticizing and more protests from Kara, she is dressed in something similar to their first date with the addition of a leather jacket. Both of their hair was styled up when Gabrielle learned they would be traveling on the rented bike. The man began muttering in French and Lena chuckled as she told Kara he was cursing her choice of transportation and that he works too damn hard for the wind to ruin it. Kara laughs kisses Lena just under her jaw, teeth grazing skin in a not so innocent way that causes Gabrielle to curse again and yell at Kara not to ruin either of their makeup as he leaves. Kara laughs and pulls Lena to her feet and they begin to make their way through the hallways to the back door where Jess had their bike waiting and as soon as the door is open, lights flash, almost blinding them. Reporters call to the star and her girlfriend, trying to get answers to trivial questions. Lena stops to sign some autographs for patient fans before Kara hands her the helmet and kicks the motorcycle to life. More cameras flash as they zoom off into the night. Lena gives instructions of where to go and they pull up outside a club with music pouring out the door with flashing lights. A long line wraps around the building and out of sight. Big burly men dressed in all blackguard the door behind a velvet rope. Kara backs the bike in right out front between two cars and holds out a hand to help Lena off before dismounting herself.

When they both remove their helmets, The paparazzi make themselves known as cameras flash just as bright as before. People actually waiting begin exclaiming and pointing and pulling out their own phones. Lena grabs Kara’s hand, easily folding their fingers together, and walks right up to the burly men, they unclip the rope without question and allow the two women to pass through. Lights and noise assault Kara’s senses and she tightens her grip on Lena’s hand.

This had never been Kara’s scene. She spent her whole life training and keeping her grades up because the Danvers would not let her fight if her grades suffered. So she stuck to curfew and stayed on the honor roll. After high school her schedule and diet were strict. She had champaign, once, when she was eighteen and Eliza allowed her a glass on New Year’s. Ever since the accident she hadn’t touched the stuff. Alex, of course, had gone the other way, nearly drinking herself out of a job before getting help as she mourned her father’s death. But she still drinks socially. Now, entering the club, she was assaulted with people in various stages of drunkenness, bodies pressed together, strobing lights, and throbbing bass. Lena notices Kara’s stiffness and pulls her closer to practically yell in her ear.

“Are you okay? We can leave and go to the hotel room. Maybe finish what we started earlier?” Kara closes her eyes and shivers at Lena’s hot breath on her neck and suggestive words. It was tempting, but Kara wanted to see all of Lena’s life.

“I’m fine. Just a lot to take in.” Kara shouts back. Lena still looks concerned but Kara rolls her eyes and kisses her, trying to convince her that her words were true. Lena accepts the kiss eagerly and then pulls Kara through the crowd. Lena cuts a path to stairs guarded by more burly men who don’t even glance at them. Upstairs, the music is less oppressive and they can look over the crowd on the main dance floor. Big booths rim the room along with a long bar with colorfully lit up shelves of alcohol. The dance floor changes color beneath the writhing bodies as the DJ oversees the music on a platform above them. The upstairs has smaller booths that have walls separating them for privacy. The bar is smaller but it will easily serve the needs of what Kara can assume are the VIP’s being catered to up here.

“Lena Luthor. About time you came to one of my clubs. I have only been inviting you ever since I found out you were on this side of the Atlantic.” The smooth seductive voice drips with smugness and Kara turns away from the sight below her to take in the tattooed woman in a red dress now standing in front of them.

“Veronica. Yes I thought it was time, besides my girlfriend is in town and I wanted to show her off.” Lena tightly wraps an arm around Kara and Kara instinctively puts an arm around her shoulders. She remembers what Lena told her, how Veronica was the first to break Lena's heart and used her. Kara wasn't jealous, but the need to protect Lena curled in her chest at Veronica's predator-like aurora. Veronica doesn't even spare Kara a glance.

“Oh yes, I've heard about the ex-boxer you were dating. Pictures all over the internet...”

“Mixed Martial Arts.” Kara interrupts whatever the woman was going to say next. Finally, the lithe woman turns to face Kara. Kara suppresses a shiver at her cold, attractive eyes.

“Beg pardon. Sports were never my strong suit. I'm afraid we haven't been properly introduced. I am Veronica Sinclair.” The women gracefully holds out a hand. Kara takes it after a moment's hesitation.

“I know. Kara Danvers.” Kara quickly releases her hand, ice in her voice that she tries to hide.

“Ah,” Veronica’s eyes flick to Lena’s, knowing that Kara knows at least some of their history.

“Well please enjoy yourselves. Tonight is on me, to celebrate an old friend’s success. Let any of my staff know if you need anything.”

Veronica walks away then and Kara separates to distance herself from Lena. Undefined emotions rolled in her stomach; anger, jealousy, hurt, uncertainty. Kara turns back to the railing and watched the people below her. Lena gently approaches her again.

“I'm sorry. She owns like fifty clubs and casinos all over the world. I didn't realize she would be here. Her assistant and Jess were the ones planning the party.” Lena says just loud enough to be heard.

“I just… I don't like how she looked at you. And then knowing everything she did to you. And God, why did Jess agree to use her club then?” Frustration cresses Kara's brow and Lena tentatively reaches out, allowing Kara time to pull away, and grabs her hand.

“I should have at least warned you. But most of the A-list won't go anywhere else but a Sinclair Club. Do you want to go?”

“No. I want to dance with you.” Kara grins at Lena and jerks her head to the dance floor below them. Lena nods and Kara pulls her back down the stairs.

Kara weaves her way into the crowd until they are well in the middle of the strobing dance floor, people brush them on all sides but Lena presses into Kara. Almost every point that can touch, does. Lena throws her arms around Kara’s neck and pulls her close, swaying her hips against Kara’s. Damn, Lena knows how to move. Kara was always a good dancer, she did show choir in high school and fighting meant she had to be light on her feet, but Lena, Lena was moving like seductrice and left little for Kara to imagine. After several songs, they escaped the crowd back to the upstairs bar. Kara got water while Lena got a whiskey on the rocks. She was just getting one because she was already very drunk on Kara, and horny.

For now, though, this was a party for her. Lena guides Kara from one group of people to the next. Each was filled with stars of various levels of famous but Kara was too distracted by Lena’s seemingly casual touches that sent fire through her body. Kara couldn’t take it anymore. When Lena set her empty glass on the bar and flagged down the bartender for another, Kara pinned her against it, molding herself to Lena’s back. Kara bent down to nibble on Lena’s earlobe, smirking at the sharp intake of breath she feels Lena take.

“Wanna get out of here?” Kara whispers into Lena’s neck, brushing her teeth along the soft pale skin. A shiver runs through Lena and she turns in the strong arms holding her.

“Miss Danvers, are you trying to get in my pants?”

“Always. The way you moved on that dance floor, the way you keep teasing me, god, it has taken all my willpower not to fuck you right here against the bar.” Lena’s breathing picks up at Kara’s words. The bartender tries to hand Lena a full glass but she waves him off.

“Take me back to the hotel room.” Lena barely manages to get out in a shaky voice.

Kara eagerly makes her way through the loud and crowded club. She muscles a path for them through the ever-changing bodies, only pausing for a second for the outside guards to let them through. Kara picked up the helmets on the bike seat and hands one to Lena. Before Lena can put it on Kara pulls her into a deep kiss. It surprises Lena briefly but then she leans into it. Cameras flash, reporters call out, but the couple ignores them all. Kara pulls away and puts her helmet on, Lena does the same and climbs on the bike behind Kara, purposefully sliding a hand under her jacket while Kara navigates into traffic and then under her shirt to brush over the skin on Kara’s abs. Lena feels Kara’s breathing pick up, and then the speed of the bike.

Kara quickly hands the keys and their helmets to the sleepy looking valet and pulls Lena with her to the elevator. Once inside the empty lift, Kara pins Lena to the wall, hands immediately finding hips. Lips and teeth meeting in her pent up sexual tension. Kara pops the button on Lena’s pants and Lena catches her wrists.

“What are you doing?”

“Seeing how fast I can make you come. Think I can do it before the top floor?”

Heat spikes through Lena at the thought. Of Kara racing the clock and the goal to make Lena scream with pleasure. Lena releases her hands just to plunge them into golden hair, pulling it from the ponytail it was in. Kara is vicious in her pursuit. Diving straight into Lena’s underwear and into the slick heat that had been building all night. Lena was already on edge from the concert and dancing and the whiskey didn’t help either. Before ten floors past, she could feel pleasure coiling in her gut and Kara palmed her breast under her shirt and relentlessly attacked her neck. Suddenly, Kara Swoops up one of Lena’s legs and hooks it around her waist. Kara teases Lena’s entrance for just a moment before she feels Lena eagerly clench and dives a finger in, then two. This time was not about teasing. It was a race to make Lena cum. Kara hooks her fingers, searching and successfully finding the small rough patch and Lena cries out. Kara adds her thumb to Lena’s clit and reattaches her lips to her neck. Lena leans back and swings her other leg around Kara while one of Kara’s hands grabs her ass. Kara’s fingers hit deeper at the new angle and pleasure radiates through Lena’s whole body. It hits her like a tidal wave of pent-up energy and she screams Kara’s name. Her inner walls contract around Kara but she keeps moving, extending her orgasm until a soft ding and Lena opens her eyes, relieved to see an empty hallway between them and her door.

Kara slowly pulls her fingers out and puts her now freed hand under Lena’s other leg and begins to walk the hallway without putting her down. Lena whispers her room number in a hoarse voice. Kara nods and can’t manage to keep the smug grin off her face, knowing that hoarseness is from screaming Kara’s name. And knowing it wouldn’t be the first time tonight.

November 8th, 2017

Kara woke before Lena the next morning. Almost afternoon by the light pouring through the window. Kara just watched her breath while she lay on her side on an elbow. Lena looked so soft in the sunlight, on the white hotel sheets. Kara wanted this, wanted her. She knew she had to tell Lena. After all, Lena had let Kara in. Guilt still racked Kara, even in this beautiful moment. Lena blinked slowly and green eyes met blue. Lena smiled and Kara tried to match it. Lena noticed the hesitation and her brow furrowed.

“Kara? What’s wrong?” Lena props herself up on an elbow to match Kara, Kara reaches out and tucks a hair behind Lena’s ear and then cups her cheek. Lena Sighs and Leans into the touch.

“I...I have something I need to tell you. About me. But I…” Kara trailed off, feeling very unsure about this now that she was actually saying it out loud. Lena sits up fully, her legs tucked under her while the sheet falls away.

“Kara? What is it? Is it about us?” Kara can see the panic in Lena’s eyes and she sits up as well, grabbing her hands.

“God, no. Just me, but I don’t know how you would feel about it. Actually, I don’t think you would like it. But I think it would be better if I showed you because then you could see everything I have done. And how much it means to me. It means almost as much as you do so I hope you like it but it would just be better if-” Lena Kisses Kara to stop her rambling. It works.

“Okay. Then, after I visit with you and Eliza, you can tell me or show me or whatever. If this really means that much to you then I am sure I will like it.” Kara makes a face at that.

“Kara seriously. I now know that there is something you need to tell me. You aren’t lying. You have told me when you will tell me. Now, can we get back to the post-sex marathon bliss and just lie in this bed until my stomach growls.”

Kara smiles and nods, leaning back and holding her arms open for Lena to settle into. Lena tucks her head under Kara’s chin and wraps her arm around Kara’s waist while sliding one of her legs in between Kara’s. Lena lets out a deep breath and then she closes her eyes and feels Kara’s breathing even out as well. They stayed that way until around one when Kara was ‘starving’ and absolutely had to go get food. They headed out for the day and managed to avoid most cameras as they explored the city. The fourth day dawned too early with Jess bursting into Lena’s hotel room and both women scrambling to cover themselves while they listened to Lena’s itinerary which included dropping Kara off at the airport. But first, they took a shower.

Kara carefully worked the suds into Lena’s hair as Lena washed her own body. As Lena rinsed her hair, Kara greedily took the washcloth from her and began trailing it over Lena’s already clean torso, then trails her hands behind Lena and down to her ass, her beautiful, firm, ass.

“Careful Kara, don’t want you to start something you don’t intend to finish.”

“Oh, I intend to finish.”

Kara spun Lena so that the cool tiles cause Lena to gasp as she is pressed against them. Kara pins both Lena’s hands next to her head and kisses her deeply. Heat floods Lena’s body that is much different from the cascading water. Kara slides a leg between Lena’s thighs and presses up. Kara swallows Lena’s moan before moving down her jaw and to Lena’s pulse point. Kara sucks, hard.

“Kara…” Lena groans out a protest.

“I want to leave you something to remember me by,” Kara mumbles before biting down just hard enough to leave a mark and then soothing it with her tongue. Lena moans at the teeth scraping her skin and bucks against Kara’s thigh.

Kara releases both of Lena’s hands. One grabs her ass while the other snakes between their bodies. As Kara brushes past Lena’s clit, she bucks into Kara’s hand. Kara gently circles her entrance before plunging into her. Lena’s cry gets stuck in her throat and she pulls Kara’s head tighter to her neck and Kara switches sides mark the other side while thrusting in and out of Lena. Her cries were echoing off every surface of the bathroom and filling Kara’s ears. Kara adds another finger as she follows the curve of Lena’s neck, down her clavicle, and to the soft bouncing flesh of her full breast. She pulls a hardened nipple into her mouth and Lena gasps and throws a leg over Kara’s hip. Kara moans at feeling how deep she was in Lena’s hot, wet, heat. Kara begins rocking into her girlfriend and uses her own leg to leverage her fingers deeper and harder. Kara can feel Lena shaking, Kara pulls her closer just in time to pin her harder to the wall before she could fall. Lena pulls Kara up to kiss her briefly before her mouth falls open in a silent scream as Lena squeezes her fingers hard. Kara stills and buries her face in Lena’s shoulder and tries to control her own breathing as she focuses on not rocking into her still recovering girlfriend.

Laughter bubbles up from Lena in her post-orgasm bliss. Kara slowly removes her fingers and Lena grunts another moan. Lena misses her finger’s already. Lena takes a deep breath before kissing Kara. She moves kara to the back wall of the shower, out of the stream of water. The whole bathroom had filled with steam as the hot water continued to run, heating the whole room. Kara’s back hits the wall and Lena enthusiastically begins kissing down Kara’s body. She knows they are running out of time before Jess will burst in with her extra key to hurry them along. Lena kisses each breast before continuing down. Each open-mouthed kiss sending more shivers through Kara. Watching Lena come undone put her on edge, it always puts her on edge. Lena kisses her navel, tongue poking into her belly button and causing Kara to moan and her hips to jut forward. Lena smiles and continues on her path, slowly lowering herself to her knees.

Lips brush soft blonde hair and Lena can feel the heat pouring out of Kara. Lena grips Kara’s hips and her tongue parts Kara’s slit and hits her swollen clit. Kara cries out and pulls Lena in closer by her hair. Lena happily obliges and begins eating Kara out with a gusto. Licking, sucking, grazing teeth.

“I’m so close Lee, oh God, I’m gonna… gonna… ugh.” Kara comes, hot and wet, over Lena’s chin. Lena pulls back then places a soft kiss on Kara’s mound before standing and kissing her girlfriend on the lips. Kara makes a low noise in her throat at the taste of herself on Lena’s lips.

“Nuh-uh. Jess will be back very soon. We have to actually finish showering and pack.” Kara groans in a much less sexual way before gently pushing Lena’s hair back and smirking, admiring her handy work. Bruises were already starting to form, red and blotchy with dark purple spotting the surface. It would take days, if not weeks to go away.

“You didn’t,” Lena says, looking at Kara skeptically.

“I did. I think it's safe to say Gabrielle will officially hate me.” Lena groans and thumps her head down on Kara’s shoulder. Kara laughs and wraps her arms around Lena before turning off the shower.

November 9th, 2017

Of course, when Kara returns to National City, newsstands are plastered with various rumor magazines with pictures of her and Lena. Some from her meet and greet, more of them getting on the motorcycle to and from the party, and some of them saying goodbye at the airport. Despite Lena’s best efforts, Kara can still make out a slight purplish patch on the side of Lena’s neck, which was zoomed in on one of the magazines. That made her smile when she was walking to get coffee during a break from painting the future welcome desk for her gym. Her gym. She was so excited for this. She never realized that this was something she wanted to do until she had the ability to do it. Sure she had fleeting thoughts about it because who wouldn’t when that’s where you spend most of your life. Now she was going to have something that's hers. Something permanent. There were two more floors that her and Winn were thinking of turning into apartments or something to rent out when they had the money. Winn had co-signed the lease and the loan. He was her partner for everything. Winn was the best. Kara didn’t ask too many questions about how he was getting all the money but he made it pretty clear that it was mostly legal.

‘The Power Factory’ would be up and running soon, hopefully. It would be hard, and she most likely would only be able to see Lena a few more times until the tour was over and they went to visit Eliza. A bubbly happy feeling started in Kara’s chest at that. Lena was willing to meet her foster mom, that was such a big step. Kara could not have been happier.

#supergirl #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #Vigilante #Singer #au #WTFU #fanfiction #smut

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j-writesandstuff · 5 years

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equal, hermano

The second Rafael and Max were through the front door of the loft Max ducked, practically running, into their shared room the slam of the door reverberating across the whole apartment. Rafe let out a deep sigh, he knew his little brother would have locked the door by now so he dropped his bag by the door and shuffled towards the kitchen. Defeat was not a feeling Rafe enjoyed, neither was helplessness. Especially when it concerned his little brother.

He was born lucky, he knew it-he'd been raised to know and appreciate that fact. As a shadowhunter birthright is often the first thing you're taught at the institute. But his parents had also taught him the privilege it bought him in their world, the struggles he would never have to face all because he got lucky in the lottery of existence. Many in their world would tell him his brother was born unlucky, pulled the short straw. The same was often said about his Papa. Rafe never really understood it all, all he saw of them was the fact Max healed every injured creature he came across since the age of three, and the fact his Papa conjured waffles when he was sad, Max made runes dance on the ceiling in shimmering purple when studying was melting his brain, his Papa helped save the world. He didn't understand the people who hated them. He doubted he ever would. He also would never understand the people making his little brother want to lock himself away in their room. Rafe knew he needed to think of something. To him, Max had always been equal sometimes he even considered the fact Max was superior to him in plenty of ways. He and his family saw Max like that, but he wanted everyone to.

That's when the idea hit him. Rounding the corner into the kitchen, he heard the soft hum of classical music-his Dads favourite- and saw his fathers gently swaying along together as they prepared dinner. Perfectly in-sync with each other. He almost didn't want to interrupt. Almost.

'Uh. Dad, Papa, can I ask you about something?'

They both jumped a little at the presence of their son bursting the little bubble they'd created but composed themselves quickly.

Magnus spoke first.

'Of course sweet pee, always. What's up?' Both Magnus and Alec had lent against the breakfast bar, opposite their eldest son sitting on the bar stool.

'How does the alliance rune work?'

Neither of them was prepared for that question-it was written all over their faces. They shared a glance. With that glance they shared a whole a conversation, Alec placed his hand gently on the back of Magnus' arm just above his elbow-their secret sign of support.

'Well, your Aunt Clary saw it just before the war with Valentine.' Magnus always said his name like that, as if it left a bitter taste in his mouth. His whole family did. Rafe hadn't heard it all, but he was sure it did.

Alec continued, they always spoke like this. Flowing perfectly one after the other-together.

'It binds the two who share it, I and your father share it with each other. I can use your Papas abilities, as he can use mine. I could use it to conjure a portal, and he could light up a seraph blade.'

They both got a faraway look in their eyes as Magnus finished.

'I'm almost certain that rune saved at least a thousand lives. Certainly mine and your Dads. But it was also a changing moment in the relationship between Shadowhunters and Downworlders. We fought side by side. It was truly incredible.'

Alec's arm had slid entirely around Magnus' waist as he'd been talking. Rafe's perfect example of the two worlds unity. They'd always taught him unity was strength. Love was power, and alliance was always the answer.

He knew exactly what needed to be done. He smiled broadly, a determined glint in his eye.

'Are they busy tonight?' They know who he meant. 'Can you get them over in the next half hour? Uncle Simon, Aunt Clary, and Papa are especially important. Uhh, don't tell Jace and Izzy I said that. Or Grandma.'

Alec chuckled. 'Sure buddy, your secrets safe with us, I wouldn't wanna inflict that on anybody. We'll give them all a call now. But, uh, why?'

'I'll explain when they get here, just get calling it needs to happen soon-its important.'

And with that he was gone, flying off the bar stool into the office leaving his parents to share a confused look before dialing the phone.

Exactly thirty minutes later his whole family was assembled in the living room, Rafe sat crossed legged on the coffee table in the center. Magnus and Alec, Alec with a leg slung lazily across his husbands lap, next to each other on the sofa. Jace next to Alec, with his Aunt Clary on the arm of the chair one foot in Jace's lap, the other on Simon's shoulder. Who'd been forced to sit on the floor for arriving last. Aunt Izzy and his grandma sat on the armchairs either ends of the coffee table. The only one missing was Max. Everyone noticed. Rafe began.

'Okay, so you've all noticed our little buddy blueberry isn't here. In fact, he hasn't left our room since we got back from training today.'

Concern spread across each of their faces. Magnus took Alec's hand.

'That's because today someone hurt him, pretty badly. And I don't mean just physically, although that too.'

The concern melted into horror, and cold rage in all of them. Even Rafe felt the buds of it rising again in his stomach. It was Simon who spoke. Always his Uncle Simon to hold some composure. He was good like that.

'What exactly, did they do to him, Rafael?' His voice quiet, as if he didn't really want to hear. He imagined they probably didn't. They'd known Max since he was a baby, tiny and defenseless. That image still hadn't really gone away. Even now he was ten, and able to do magic it took Warlocks hundreds of years to master, he was the family baby.

'Well first of all Max beat this kid in a race, totally fair and square. We got told to use any ability we had, and well Max just happens to be able to teleport. Really they should have been more specific. But anyways. This kid was not happy about that, jealous if you ask me. His pride was hurt, badly. He storms over to Max and calls him a cheater. Then punches him.'

The atmosphere in the room said it all. Fury filled every member of his family, he felt bad telling them about it but they needed to know for this to make sense. He ignored the nauseating feeling rising in his throat as he remembered the rest. He continued.

'This kid is big, I'm talking my age, a head taller than Max and five years of ShadowHunter training literally written all over him. He's towering over Max and I can feel it, you feel his magic you know? That shit is strong-'

'Language Rafael. Just because you're fifteen doesn't mean the rules are off the table.' Cut in his Grandmother.

'Right, sorry. I go jogging over ready to fight this kid for squaring up my baby brother when he swings for him. Now we all know, me from experience, you don't swing at Max. In seconds he's across the room right into a wall.'

They share a glance between them all. The kind only a group of concerned adults can understand. Jace nods at Rafe, silently telling him to go on. Jace is never good at speaking when he's angry.

'Obviously, I'm turning to Max to calm him down when someones shoving me aside and catches Max off guard. He was looking at me, not focussing you know? He gets him. Right in the stomach.' Rafe's voice shakes a little as he continues.

'I'm seeing red. Max is barely recovering when I'm up.I-I broke his nose. You guys can punish me for that later, I don't care about a consequence. But now this kid is humiliated and in pain. A bad combination in a jackass.'

'I can't believe the trainers just let this happen.' Interrupts Maryse. Her voice stern, but the edges laced with anger.

'They weren't there, the kid picked the exact time an important Clave message came through so the trainer had to leave or something. But that isn't the actual bad part, not really anyways. He's yelling at me. A lot of swearing and cursing my family name which I was about to punch him again for-when he notices Max healing a little graze on my elbow from where he pushed me earlier. By the angel, Max is so soft. This kid says stuff that has totally destroyed Max okay. It's bad. I dunno if Papa is even gonna wanna hear it. That kinda stuff.'

Alec squeezes his hand Clary subconsciously looks down at Simon. So does his Aunt Izzy. They aren't stupid, they know the kind of stuff he means. Blue sparks are rising from his Papas other hand, a small burn mark forming in the arm of the chair. His Dads other hand is tapping hard against his thigh. He can see the anger in his Uncle's shoulders, both of them rigid all over. His Aunt Clarys eyebrows were knotted so tightly together it must have been hurting. His Aunt Izzy had an expression that could have killed, he imagined she was wishing it could.

'Its okay sweet pea. I've lived enough years to hear this.' Despite the usually soothing nickname, his Papas tone was ice cold.

Rafes own voice shook, a lump had risen in his throat. He was going to cry.

'He said 'I don't even know why this dirty warlock is even allowed in. He's half demon. Look at what he just did to me, he's dangerous. I guess you really can't tame half breed.' At this point, I'm screaming at him. Ready to rip into him, because Max apologises to plants he steps on and heals injured birds and sleeps in Batman pajamas.' At this point the tears are streaming down Rafes face, his hands shaking.

'He's not dangerous. He's so little he was just scared. Then he turns to me and says the worst part. 'I don't get why you're defending him. You're worse than that dad of yours. A few years ago you'd be hanging his horns on your mantlepiece as a prize. Why is he even part of your twisted little family? He can't even use a seraph blade. You've been tainted by the dirty demons in your house and your faggot of a dad. He then threw a blade at Max and taunted him because he cant use it and told him we'd never be really equal, no matter how brainwashed I was.' Rafe has said it all so fast he was out of breath, the front of his shirt wet with tears.

'Max broke one of his arms and both parts of his left leg. Blew up a light bulb then ran out the room. It took me twenty minutes to catch up with him. He was practically glowing purple he wouldn't let me touch him.'

Everyone in the room was stunned into silence. They'd all surpassed anger into full-blown rage.

'That's why I needed you all to come over. I'm gonna show him we've been equal since his tiny toddler hands made me a flower out of thin air. Aunt Clary, you can still draw that alliance rune right?'

Clary took a moment to compose herself, wiping a tear and sitting up a little straighter and pulling her mouth into a smile.

'Yeah Rafe, I can.'

'Perfect. I'll go get him.'

Outside their bedroom door, Rafe could feel the ice cold sadness of Max's magic. He loved his brother more than anyone, feeling his sadness broke his heart.

'Blueberry,hermano. I've got something to give you. Everyone's here, well because they all care Maxy. You've just gotta come into the living room.' He whispered through the gap under the door.

After a moment the door opened, revealing a tear stain Max. His blue cheeks burning a bright red, Rafe only ever saw them do that when he laughed too hard. He swore they never be red from tears as long as he lived. His blue eyes puffy, curly hair scruffy and disheveled from having a pillow over his head. He hadn't even gotten changed out of his clothes, one trouser leg bunched up around his knee.

'Okay.' Was all he said, barely a whisper. He trailed behind Rafe into the living room.

Concerned eyes follow them both as Rafe goes back to the coffee table. He moves over and gestures for Max to sit next to him. He refuses. Max won't meet any of there eyes. Not even Simons. Max always favoured Simon a little, he could see the heartbreak on his uncles face.

Suddenly Rafe was angry. Angry someone had made his brother feel he didn't deserve to be with his own family Anger Max had believed him.

'Maxy, sit next to me.' He patted the spot next to him again and smiled up at him. 'Come on buddy.'

Max sat on the edge of the table looking down at his Star Wars socks. A gift from Simon the birthday after they'd watched them all together. Max looked like he was about to start burning them off. His parents were holding each others hands so tight their knuckles were white. His Papa looked close to tears but he was wearing his unglamoured eyes- a statement.

'Okay, Aunt Clary lets go.' Rafe stated a cold determination in his tone.

She drew the rune on a piece of paper, it flowing perfectly from her hand.

Rafe took the piece of paper and began copying the rune onto the palm of his hand.

'Turn and face me.' Max did, still not looking up keeping a distance between their knees. Rafe moved forward so they were touching and placed his palm over Max's heart.

'Now you listen to me, Maxwell. You're sat in the middle of a group of people who found a baby, who was bright blue and didn't even consider you being anywhere but with them. They gave you the name Max as a gift. You have a better heart and soul then many a shadowhunter, you can do way more than any of us ever could. So quit crying. And give me your hand.' Rafe smiled as his brother finally met his gaze and placed his hand palm up in his hand.

Rafe traced the rune.

A surge of magic flooded through his system and he almost fell off the table. But something had caught him. His own palm was holding him up, three inches off the ground.

'Now that. Is awesome' Rafe laughed, sat up and looked at his brother.

He handed him a witchlight.

Max hesitated for a moment, he closed his hand around the stone. He'd try this a few times before, the stone always remained cold and blank in his hand. When he opened his palm the stone was alight with a bright light, tinted slightly purple. His face lit up almost as bright as the stone in his hand, and suddenly the tension in the room snapped and everyone jumped and cheered.

'Equal, hermano.' Whispered Rafe, so only his brother could hear.

'Equal, brother.' Max beamed back, the light behind his eyes was enough thanks for Rafe.

The next day when the boys were training together, testing their new found skills Max noticed him coming. Rafe felt the spike in magic as he entered the training room-coming straight for Max.

'Haven't learned your lesson yet warlock?' He sneered.

'Let me make it clear. You can't use our weapons or our runes. So why are you even here?' He dangled a seraph blade in front of Max's face and laughed.

Max took it from him, smiled and lit it up.

Rafe had never been prouder, and when they walked home Max was practically dancing down the street in joy.

That night all the family were over for dinner, Max smiled the entire time.

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