#since there's a lot of tracing involved this time I put my cheat sheet up here too

[toiletshit]

looking through the episode to find a pose was actually a good call

#like four minutes in I saw that behind-pose and thought that's neat and tried recreating it (and in the second attempt actually traced) #and when I looked to get a good shot of her face I saw that other waving pose and was like ''??? ain't that what I'm trying to do??'' #since there's a lot of tracing involved this time I put my cheat sheet up here too #wip #work in progress

[devilinsheepswool]

When MC first arrives at Devildom they warn Lucifer that the only way to keep them in line is by providing them with incentives, and that he will be wise to heed their warning because they tend to go a bit wild if not kept in check.

They warn Lucifer that punishments will not work, they will only accomplish the opposite because they will make MC want to retaliate. Out of curiosity Lucifer asks what kind of incentives; Grimm, food, clothes, jewels, merchandise, books, free passes from chores and other obligations, all things his brothers treasure.

MC responds with a simple shake of the head, they're much easier than that and with a small smile they reply.

"Gold Stars."

Lucifer intially believes they mean actual gold stars, he doesn't understand how that's any easier, in fact it seems very in line with what Mammon would ask for. He's about to call them insane but MC notices the look of disbelief on his face, their add on comes in late.

"Stickers, I mean." MC clarifies.

"What?" Lucifer asks.

"Gold star stickers. It's how my friends and loved ones get me to behave." MC explains. "I get a gold sticker for every time I do something good or helpful, and an even bigger sticker for whenever I hold back on doing something impulsive or 'dumb'." They continue to explain. "The small stars are worth 1 point and the big ones are worth 3."

"You're kidding, MC." Lucifer deadpans. "Isn't this what a teacher would use on a child?"

"I'm really not, it works on me too. I need consistency and to feel like I'm working up towards something rewarding in order to actual do anything."

"Rewarding, how?"

"I'm glad you asked. Remember how I said that the normal stars are worth 1 point and the big ones worth 3? Well, by the end of the week if I've acquired at least 30 to 40 I get treated to an ice cream sundae on Sunday, I can only get 5 small stars per day with the exception of a big star every now and then. If I go over 30 or 40 I get extra toppings."

"That seems oddly simple." Lucifer states still looking MC up and down quizzically.

"It is!" MC exclaims pulling out a chart from behind their back. A chart large enough to fit multiple stickers on it, the chart is divided into six sections: Monday through Saturday. "Here." They hand him the chart. "You're in charge of stickers."

Dumbfounded, Lucifer takes the chart sheet in his hands. He has the passing thought 'if only my brothers were this easy.' Before dismissing it completely, knowing that there are easier things wished for.

"This will ensure you behave?" He asks once more for clarification.

MC only simply nods.

"You put it up there." MC continued pointing to the refrigerator. "so that everyone sees and I feel a sense of accomplishment."

"Are you sure you want it up there?" He asks tiredly. "Won't the others tease you?"

"Yeah, probably." MC answers matter o factly. "But you won't be buying them a fancy Sundae at the end of the week, or will you?"

"So, now I'm the one buying you ice cream? When did we agree to this?"

"I mean... I thought that was implied by you being my assigned sticker giver. Besides it's a small price to pay for my good behavior, don't you think?"

"Are you threatening me?" He asks looking up at them with a quirked eyebrow, even if so it's not like they're asking for much. He wishes his brothers asked only for the same to ensure their well behavior... but unfortunately life is not that easy.

"No." They answer with such genuinety that he almost thinks they're messing with him. "I'm just trying to make life easier for the both of us; the idea is to ease me into a new environment and eventually I won't need the stars anymore to ensure I behave. If I don't maintain consistency I let my environments shape me and that's not always a good thing but like this I keep myself in line regardless of my new environment."

"Very well, all be it for my peace of mind." Lucifer sighs pinning up the laminated sheet on the fridge.

At first the brothers do tease MC about it, but MC doesn't really seem to care all that much as they do their chores happily with the promise of ice cream in mind. Eventually the teasing stops, after all, how fun is it to tease someone who doesn't really care?

But it starts with Beel noticing, MC gets treated to a sundae from Madam Screams every Sunday that leaves him watering at the mouth. Well, now Beel wants in on the action. He asks Lucifer to do the same for him.

Lucifer doesn't really care, Beel is probably one of the most well behaved of his brothers save for when he goes on his hunger rampages or acts out because of food. He doesn't think much and accepts to do the same for Beel upon his request.

Now it's not just MC and Lucifer going out very Sunday to Madam Screams but also Beel and the fact that they're all going out in a group makes it feel somewhat exclusive... that mixed with the fact that MC has to separate from Mammon every Sundaybto go pick up their Sundae and we all know how much Mammon hates being apart from MC add into Mammon demanding that Lucifer do that same for him.

Things have just become interesting. Mammon is the brother that needs this the most in Lucifer's eyes but he doubts his brother can completely behave, regardless he doesn't stop his brother from trying after all it's to his own benefit (Lucifer's) maybe now he'll be able to get some more work and rest in.

Well the said is done, it doesn't completely work but he has noticed Mammon behaving a lot more than he usually did. Not to add that he's gotten competitive with the other two about who can earn more toppings on their sundae than the rest... even if he ends up losing every time.

Asmo is the third to fall into the trend. After all, a Sundae by Lucifer's treat and by side MC!? What could possibly be better!? Besides the game looks really fun, and now Asmo is eager to join in on the fun.

It's not like Asmo is ill behaved or boisterous in any way, so he doesn't have to make much of an effort but some times he will slip up and it's only then that he makes an effort.

Levi is the fourth to fall into this game. As always it's his envy that causes him to get involved in MC's and his brothers game, and who can blame him? I mean who likes feeling left out, right?

The following Monday during dinner he starts to pout and complain about how he isn't being included in the most indirect round about way.

"After all what did I expect, it's not like you guys would include me in your game..."

"It's not a game Levi, MC and the others have to earn their ice-cream." Lucifer clarifies putting down his eating utensils.

"You don't have to lie to me, Lucifer." Levi pouts. "Its not like I want to be included in that normie game you guys are playing anyway!"

Lucifer lets out a tired breath as he asks himself whether he really wants to deal with this right now... well, the answer is that he doesn't but he isn't going to leave his brother sulking about not being included, after all, it'll only get worse the longer he leaves him sulking.

And just like that Levi's in.

Those left are Satan and Belphegor and, of course, he doesn't expect either to willingly participate. I mean they won't obey him or behave on a regular basis, in fact it's the complete opposite; they usually go out of their way to make his life harder, so why would they participate in a game that requires them to do something that is supposed to make his life easier?

He won't bother with them, after all, he's far too busy with the work he has from Diavolo as of lately.

But then Satan surprises him by announcing that he to will join this game. Of course, Lucifer is suspicious of Satan's intentions after all why would he willingly chose to make Lucifer's life much easier?

Satan claims he just wants to feel involved, and since everyone is already doing it he might as well too.

Lucifer's on guard with Satan, he's trying to figure out what he's scheming but Satan genuinely seems to be doing what he should.

Still, Lucifer can't help but check his drawers and closet when he finds Satan leaving his room after having claimed that he was only sorting the clean laundry to its appropriate places, and he can't help not double checking his drinks, or looking over his things when Satan brings them to him.

Satan is behaving and he takes pleasure in how uneasy that makes Lucifer. The look on Lucider's face whenever Satan does something good or helpful with a smile and nothing more is priceless. Of course, it's not like Satan is going to let Lucifer get to comfortable. If Lucifer does get too comfortable Satan won't have any trouble playing a small and subtle prank on Lucifer to keep him on his toes.

Not to add that Satan does cheat regularly when participating in the game, usually playing Mammon out of his points or taking credit for his work, or using Mammon in order to enact his pranks on Lucifer so they won't get traced back to him... yep, poor Mammon.

Lastly, is Belphie. He shows the most resistance to the game, it takes to much energy and effort neither of which he cares to spare on a silly game.

But as much as he hates to admit it. He hates waking up to an empty house on Sunday; there's no Beel or MC to greet him and the fact that everyone else is also playing along with the game makes him feel excluded. It's not bad enough that he was locked up in the attic for the longest time and only came back after all the other brothers had already formed bonds with MC but even now they get to spend more time with them all because of that dumb game.

So in the end, as reluctant as he might be he announces in the most nonchalant and anticlimactic way that he too will participate in the dumb game.

Much like Satan, he'll either mooch of Mammon's points or use Mammon to get out of trouble for certain things. He'll petition Lucifer about being able to share points with either Beel or MC because that chore was a "combined effort".

In the end all the brothers end up participating, it doesn't 100% solve the occasional behavioral problems and shenanigans that occur within the house of lamentation but it does help placate them if even by a small percentage.

And it's only when he gets to sit down and breathe after a long day of paperwork and meetings that Lucifer notices what a good influence MC has been on his brothers.

Of course, by this point MC no longer needs the gold star sticker system to keep in line but at this point they don't have the heart to end the game... not when everyone has come to have fun with it so much.

#obey me! #obey me! shall we date? #obey me: one master to rule them all #obey me #obey me shall we date #om lucifer #om leviathan #om mammon #om beelzebub #om belphegor #om satan #om asmodeus #om beel #om belphie #om asmo

[babyybitchhhwrites]

Shikaku x Reader 18+

Title: Bound 

Words: 6110

Rating:  Explicit/R-18+

Warnings: Cheating,extramarital affairs, older man/younger woman, boss/employee relationship, light bondage, oral sex, office sex

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25721392

♥♥♥♥

Shikaku was halfway through the door with a neat stack of papers under his arm and a steaming mug in hand when he looked up and saw you sitting on his desk. He gave the faintest jolt of surprise, catching himself just a moment too late to stop the impulse altogether. The quiet splatter of coffee hitting the hardwood floor resounded off the walls, making you smile, and he pinned you with an unamused scowl in response. 

“Should I even ask what you’re doing here at this hour?” He grumped. 

You made a show of crossing your legs, one over the other with your knee propped skyward. His gaze didn’t so much as falter when it caused the hem of your skirt to ride higher up the plush swell of your thigh and you couldn’t help thinking that was very gentlemanly of him. 

“I’m sure it will please you to know I’m here for a very good reason.” You quipped, watching him maneuver around the spill. “Unless of course you don’t want to hear my report while it's still fresh in my mind.” 

“Still fresh, huh?” Humming distractedly, Shikaku crossed the room to stand in front of the desk where he methodically started depositing his items onto the smooth oak surface. Coffee first, in the exact same spot he always put it as evidenced by the barely noticeable water stain circles he discreetly covered up with the mug, and then his paperwork which he took the time to casually straighten before stepping around to the other side. 

It was as if you weren’t even sitting there, looking for all the world like a queen on her stately throne, and you twisted to peer over your shoulder when he stooped to pull out some napkins from a bottom drawer. He gave off the impression of a man comfortably alone when he shuffled back the way he’d just come to clean the mess you’d (inadvertently) caused which might have otherwise perturbed you but in this case, it didn’t. Not when he was the one pointedly acting like you didn’t even exist.

Taking the opportunity, you appreciatively studied Shikaku’s trim figure as he knelt to mop up the coffee before it could seep in and make the wood permanently sticky. He didn’t look like much of a threat at first glance but, to be fair, none of the Nara really did. It was no doubt a hard lesson many enemy nin have had to come to terms with in their final moments alive and you couldn’t say you envied them very much. This was the one person you’d never want to find yourself facing off against on the battlefield. 

Even someone as infamously horrible as Orochimaru was preferable to the Jounin commander. That shadow binding technique of his was bad enough on its own but, taking into consideration all the mind games he could torture you with before finally delivering the killiing blow, there was no way you’d ever willingly go up against him. Such hubris would have been the very definition of a fool's errand.  

He stood then, not quite snapping you out of your thoughtful haze all the way, and you numbly watched as he walked over to deposit the soggy napkins into a trash bin in the corner. Tracing his steps back to the door again, he pulled it shut and reached for the lock. Your brows quirked up at the click of the bolt echoing through the room. 

“If you’d wanted to give a fresh report,” Shikaku intoned, turning to face you again. “I think you would have swung by my office when you first returned from the mission. Not hours later.” 

You offered him a sheepish little grin, valiantly fighting down the swelling butterflies in your stomach. “You knew when I got back?” 

“There isn’t much in this village that escapes my notice. I’d suggest keeping that in mind.” 

The note of warning in his gruff voice did not fly under your radar but any bite it may have held seemed to dampen when you caught the roguish curve of his mouth. He was merely teasing you in his own peculiar way. It didn’t exactly seem light and playful unless you were intimately familiar with the man and you imagined not many people ever got to see this side of him - and if they did, his intentions were always undoubtedly misconstrued. Everyone seemed to be under the impression that Shikaku was a no nonsense hard ass but you knew better. 

Uncrossing your legs in favor of swinging them over the side of the desk, you cocked your head to one side when he moved to step across the room again. “So you didn’t ask the other Jounin to keep an eye on me then? Consider me hurt, commander.” 

He snorted a good natured laugh. “If I did ask them to keep tabs on you, it wouldn’t be for the reason you’re thinking. Nice try, though.”

You turned to watch your boss lower himself into the chair behind the desk, curiosity piqued. “What other reason could there possibly be, Shikaku-taicho?”

A sharp brow quirked in your direction at that question. “Do you want an alphabetized list or should I give it to you in ascending order? You’re trouble, sweetheart. You know that.”

Excited heat crept across your face before you could stop it. “You like it though.” 

“There are a lot of things in this world that I like,” Shikaku sighed, dropping his gaze to the topmost sheet of paper in the stack. “But I can’t say trouble is one of them.”

“Liar.” 

Dark, pinpoint eyes slowly lifted to meet your gaze. He regarded you for a long, contemplative moment before dropping the expenditure form he’d picked up back to the top of the pile. Reclining into the chair with a quiet creak, he brought his hands together and laced long, elegant fingers over his stomach. You held your breath and squeezed your thighs together in anticipation, waiting for the pin to drop. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a woman call me that before. Least of all one who’s half my age and working directly under me.” 

Pussy fluttering at the unmistakable suggestion, you drew a steadying breath. “I’d like to be under you right now.” 

A low chuckle rumbled up from deep within his chest. “What did I just tell you? Trouble.” 

“Is that permission to proceed?” 

Shikaku glanced at the stack of paperwork again and slowly shook his head. “As tempting as that is …” 

Pausing, he turned his head and sent a casually appraising look over the meat of your thighs. The plump swell of your ass perched on the edge of his desk. The fact he didn’t even try to conceal his interest made goosebumps erupt across your body and you attentively sat up a little straighter, showing him that he had your full attention. 

“As tempting as you are in that tight little skirt, which I’m sure you didn’t put on just to pay me a visit, I have a lot of work to finish up here. I do have to get home at some point, you know.” 

A tinge of jealousy flashed through you, smothering your arousal by some margin. “Is your wife expecting you?” 

He nodded almost imperceptibly. “I promised I’d help with Shikamaru tonight. He’s got an ear infection and if you thought he was whiny with a clean bill of health, you’d want to tear your own hair out now. The kid hasn’t stopped crying since yesterday morning.” 

“Poor baby.” You cooed, faintly smiling at the thought of the pouty little boy that looked so much like his father. He had the same sharp features and smooth jaw structure that Shikaku did but Yoshino’s big, doe-like eyes. You wondered, not for the first time, what he would’ve looked like with yours. “I hope he makes a speedy recovery. You deserve to relax when you’re at home.” 

Shikaku laughed, very softly. “I’m sure you’d rather have me relaxing with you.” 

“I can’t deny that.” You admitted, sliding down off the desk to stand on your feet. “But it is what it is. You’ve got your obligations and I’ve got mine. Nothing we can do about it now.” 

“And what obligations do you have?” He chortled. 

You spun around to face him, allowing a sly smirk to play at your lips as you rounded the corner of the desk. “I’ve got plenty and I’ll have you know they’re all very important.”

“Would you care to humor me with an example then?” 

Leaning down, you gripped the stiff armrest and used it as leverage to swivel him around to face you. Shikaku permitted it, unsurprisingly. He looked more curious than anything else and when you placed your palms on his bent knees, his expression shifted towards wry amusement. 

“If you’re trying to persuade me into giving you what you want, it’s not going to work. I made a promise.” 

“I know.” You murmured, trying to pretend like the ache in your chest was imagined and not real. There was nothing you wouldn’t give the man sitting before you though, even if it meant ignoring your own feelings, and you slowly lowered yourself to kneel on the floor between his legs. “All I want is to help you however I can, Shikaku. You can still do your paperwork while I do this, can’t you?” 

You could clearly see the war waging behind his eyes. It wasn’t hard to miss. He was sifting through an assortment of conflicting emotions, torn between his commitment to an arranged marriage you suspected he’d never wanted in the first place and what his heart yearned for. There was a family at home waiting for him; a toddler he’d give his own life for in a heartbeat and a wife he’d do the same for because duty demanded it. And then there was you. Right in front of him, ready and waiting. Willing to give him whatever he might ask of you without expecting anything in return except some of his time. 

It wasn’t exactly fair to him, making him choose like this. But it wasn’t fair to you either. Maybe you should have never gotten involved with a married man like Shikaku in the first place but it was much too late for that now. You were just as aware of that as he was. 

The moment his resolve weakened and crumbled flashed across his ruggedly handsome face like a neon sign, as clear as day, and you knew you’d won. Maybe not the war, but this battle at least was yours. 

Licking your lips, you reached up to fumble with the front of his pants. Button first, zipper second. It’s slow descending zrrrt made molten heat pool in your gut, and you squirmed in eager excitement when he shifted in the chair to help you slide them along with his underwear a quarter of the way down his hips. They were lean and trim; tantalizingly firm under your palm when you reached up to brace one hand on the smooth expanse of skin while the other pushed at the bulk of his Jounin vest to bunch it around his middle. 

Shikaku’s cock twitched in the open air and stirred. Your mouth watered at the sight of it, just a shade darker than the rest of his warm complexion and so torturously inviting it took everything you had not to swallow him down your throat right then and there. But you weren’t keen on rushing this, not when it meant prolonging your time together just that much more. Instead, you leaned forward to nuzzle the stiffening length and take a deep, savory breath of his scent. Clean and musky with a faint curling note of salty sweat that made your pussy ache for him. 

“Little minx.” 

Roving your attention up, you peered into his expression. The ready arousal you saw staring back at you prompted a smile to curl your lips even as you rubbed your cheek against his growing erection like a cat marking its territory. Shikaku was unlike any other man you’d ever known. Those sharp features and jagged scars, the perpetually grumpy draw of his brows, the well groomed beard and frown lines. He was unfairly good looking in any setting no matter how mundane, but he was exceptionally attractive like this when he allowed himself to relax and give in to pleasure. The uncontested aura of authority that seemed to permeate the air around him only became more pronounced when you were kneeling at his feet like this, igniting a deep seated need in your subconscious to submit to him. There was no question who was really in charge here. 

“You like it.” You said again, pressing a brief kiss to the shaft. 

Shikaku reached down and buried one of his hands in your hair. “Yes, I do.” 

Humming faintly when he curled his fingers against your scalp, you slipped your tongue out to take a tentative kitten lick at the thick vein on the underside. The silky smooth texture of him coupled with the faintest bitter tang went straight to your pussy and you let out a soft sigh. Shikaku relaxed further into the chair, tipping his head back to rest against the backrest. His fingers stayed locked where they were but he didn’t try to tug you into action while you took your time peppering the length of his cock in fleeting butterfly kisses, pausing here or there to mouth at him. He also didn’t make a move to turn his attention back to the paperwork laid out before him though and you considered that another small victory. The longer he focused on you, the longer you’d get to stay with him. 

You licked your lips and nuzzled into the wiry thatch of hair at the base of his groin, inhaling another deep whiff of Shikaku’s masculine scent. It was dizzyingly erotic to you, the very smell of him igniting flames deep within the pit of your gut. You couldn’t get enough of him. The need to taste every inch of the commander's flesh was as overpowering as it was urgent, your breath coming a little faster as you pecked your way down to his balls. 

Pubic fuzz gave way to yet more impossibly soft skin and you just barely caught the quiet exhale he issued when you flicked the left teste with your tongue. Lifting your eyes, you looked past the now straining erection jutting proudly up at the ceiling and higher still until you could lock eyes with him. Shikaku was watching you with a silent sort of anticipation that made your heart flutter. He was so handsome. 

“I love your cock.” You murmured against his ball sack. 

“Do you now?”

Smiling, you lifted your hand to wrap your fingers around the hard girth, lightly clasping and stroking him in taunting slow motion. He didn’t seem to mind and merely readjusted his grip on your hair. Still just holding on to you. A silent reminder that he could all too easily take the reins if he felt so inclined. It was heady and intoxicating, just like the smell of him. You idly wondered if Yoshino was even aware how lucky she was to have him before quickly smothering the thought. This was not the time to dwell on such an unpleasant topic and, suppressing a disconcerted shudder, you opened your lips wide to suck the right teste into your mouth. 

A low hiss filtered through the room, cut short. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you …” He said quietly. 

You spent a prolonged moment massaging the weight of his ball with your tongue, rolling it back and forth and suckling at the globular flesh. Shikaku was a mouthful and when you pulled off him a moment later with an accompanying dull pop, a glistening string of spittle followed. The wrinkled flesh shone wetly in the overhead light as you sat back on your haunches to look up at him. Still slowly pumping his cock. Mouth flushed and clinging to the cobwebs connecting you to his body. Eyes shining in lust and coy adoration alike. 

“You could fuck me.”

Shikaku took one look at you and promptly groaned. “Get up.” 

You blinked. “What?”

“Up.” He said again, gesturing you to your feet. 

Confusion settled in but you acquiesced. He reached forward and hooked his hands under your armpits as you rose, barely giving you enough time to steady yourself before hauling you up to stand. Shikaku followed, his pants rustling softly when they shifted further down his bare thighs. His hold tightened and lifted, plopping you down on the edge of his desk without a word of explanation. 

You started to get the picture when he gathered up his neat stack of papers and deposited them into his now vacant chair though. Smiling slyly, you licked your lips and watched Shikaku pluck the coffee mug from the desk, turning to deposit it somewhere else. His office was the very definition of minimalist though so he had to settle with placing it on the floor near the wall where it would be out of the way.

He turned back to you and shuffled close again, his hard cock bouncing with each step. “Lie down.” He rumbled, stooping to shove his pants and underwear down to his ankles.

“Oooh, what are you going to do to me, commander?” You purred and obediently drew your legs up. With a twist of your butt, you reclined back on top of the desk and stretched your arms above your head in a coquettish display that you hoped he’d find too tantalizing to resist. 

To your delight, Shikaku allowed himself a brief moment to appreciatively drag his gaze across your body. You didn’t miss that he paused on your chest and again on the swell of your thighs. And then, so abruptly it actually caught you off guard, he smirked. 

An icy chill ran through you but before you could even think to question him, he lifted his hands and brought them together at chest level. The signs he weaved went by in a blur and you just barely recognized them for what they were seconds before serpentine like shadows erupted out from under the desk. One wrapped itself around your wrists and effectively bound them together while two more latched onto your ankles and pulled. You yelped in surprise, instinctively struggling against the ironlike shackles, but you were altogether helpless to stop it as they stretched you out spread eagle on the desk. Your face burned with something not entirely dissatisfied when you realized what he was doing.

“S - Shikaku-taicho!” 

“There, don’t you look pretty like that?” He said lightly, clearly pleased as he dropped the hand signs used to invoke the frightening jutsu. The shadows stayed though, a testament to his mastery of the clans formidable technique, and you sucked in a sharp breath when he reached out to brush your cheek with the backs of his knuckles. 

“That’s not fair …” You whined, trying in vain to arch up off the desk. 

He cocked a taunting brow. “It’s not? But you look so good like this, sweetheart.” With a simple twist of his wrist, Shikaku’s thumb found your lips and you readily opened your mouth. The calloused digit slipped past your teeth, finding your tongue and tenderly caressing the flat of it with light circles. “Perfectly ripe and all mine for the taking. I thought you’d be happy about this. Aren’t you getting what you wanted?” 

You responded with an enthusiastic suck on his thumb, undulating your tongue to bathe the rough pad of his finger in attention. The corner of his mouth hitched in amusement, a fond glint in his dark eyes. 

“Spoiled.” Shikaku murmured, drawing his gaze lower.

He set his sights on your top first and, with a few tugs, the material came loose for him. You moaned softly around the finger in your mouth, trying to tuck your chin down to see what he was doing but it was no use. The shadows had you pulled so taut that there was no wriggle room to work with and all you could do was lie there, feeling the cool air lap at exposed skin and listening to the quiet rustle of fabric. 

Taking his time, Shikaku traced the lacy cups of your bra and teased over your nipples. He was doing it on purpose and you groaned when they started to pebble and peak under the stimulation. Your breath came even quicker some moments later when he finally zeroed in on the front clasp you’d hoped would come in handy but you honestly hadn’t expected that wish to come to fruition quite this way. He’d never used his jutsu on you before.

“Very nice choice for tonight.” 

Flicking the little latch open, he reverentially pushed the cups aside and you trembled when your nipples instantly puckered in the open room. You shifted, trying once again to free yourself of the shadows hold, but it was no use. They were as solid as flesh and bone, and ten times stronger than any normal man. You were completely at his mercy like this and you keened around the thumb in your mouth when he lightly took one of the stiff nubs between his fingers. 

Carefully tweaking it to the point of the near discomfort, Shikaku only switched to the other once you started to whimper at the friction. He repeated the process and then switched back to the first. Over and over again until you were twisting in high strung agony. Your pussy was soaked and you could hardly think straight anymore but he seemed content to gag you with his finger for the foreseeable future. The spit pooling in the back of your throat threatened to choke you and you forcibly swallowed, reveling in the low sound of approval he issued in response. 

You squirmed when he released your straining nipple, bracing for him to attack the other in similar fashion, only to go ramrod stiff when he reached further down instead. Breath catching, you wiggled your hips and strained against the jutsu, wanting to jut your cunt up to meet him halfway. Shikaku merely smoothed the rough palm of his hand down your thigh though, pausing to squeeze the doughy soft flesh before sliding back up. His hand slipped under your skirt now, fingertips dancing along the hem of your panties to make your pussy clamp down on nothing in sporadic pulses. 

“Pleese …”

“Hm?” Turning his face towards yours, Shikaku fixed you with an infuriatingly innocent look. “What do you need, sweetheart? Tell me.”

Screwing your eyes shut, you bucked into his hand with a softly keening moan. He laughed in response, the sound so breathy and dark that it had you clenching all over again. A soft whimper bubbled to life in your throat and you tossed your head against the desk, trying not to think about how close he was to touching your sopping wet pussy. You couldn’t take much more of this. 

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

You opened your eyes just enough to pin him with a flat look. 

Another deep, masculine chuckle rumbled out of him and, keeping his attention on your face, Shikaku curled his fingers inward to tease the apex of your slit. The fleetingly brief contact had you going ramrod stiff with a subdued jolt. Your lashes fluttered and you groaned around his finger, twitching when he pushed directly on that sensitive pleasure button to rub it teasingly slow. White hot static lit up throughout your lower body, making your pussy flutter eagerly at the friction. It was so easy to lose yourself under Shikaku’s ever watchful eye, especially since he seemed to know your body like the back of his own hand. Every erogenous zone, every embarrassingly receptive pressure point, what speed and amount of force he needed to exert. He had it all mapped out and there was nothing you could do to stop the steadily building pressure even if you’d wanted to. 

“Nngha …!”

“There.” He said in such a hushed tone you almost missed it. “How does that feel?”

You offered a halted nod of your head, basking in the sensation. 

“Good. Now finish what you started.” 

The thumb in your mouth pulled, hooking into the inside of your cheek, and you obediently turned your head under Shikaku’s guidance. He shuffled a little closer then, leaving his arm stretched down the length of your body so he could continue massaging your slick cunt while he nudged his cock towards your mouth. You swallowed hard at the sharp bolt of arousal that shot through you as you struggled to crane your neck around and catch the head of him between your lips. The salty bitterness of precum overwhelmed your tongue in an instant and you groaned, eyes rolling in carnal bliss. 

“Good girl … just like that.” 

Closing your eyes, you twisted your upper body so you could take more of him into your mouth. It was a crowded fit with his thumb still hooked in your cheek, not to mention an uncomfortable stretch for your neck, but you were hardly in any position to complain. He was absolutely right. You were getting exactly what you’d wanted and you couldn’t have been any happier about that.

Your pussy clenched eagerly as you bobbed your head forward and pulled him in as deep as you could. A soft whine clawed at your throat when you realized you could only make it about half of the way down his shaft before the shadows binding your arms halted your progress. There wasn’t enough leverage for you to lean in and swallow him straight down to the base like you wanted but something about having to work for it lit up a competitive spark within your chest. If Shikaku wanted to test you in this fashion then so be it. You would certainly make every attempt to rise to the occasion, at least. 

“Nngh …” He groaned quietly when you sealed your lips around him and noisily slurped. “Your mouth feels so good, baby. You like sucking on my cock, don’t you?” 

Awkwardly nodding, you strained to take another inch or so and it was almost enough to have him tickling your tonsils. You swallowed hard, hips twitching under the steady ministrations of his fingers as you lifted your tongue to lav the underside of him in attention. Tracing the thick vein upward, you swirled it around the glans and prodded his slit. More bitter pre cum oozed out, rewarding you for your efforts, and you moaned at the taste of him. That alone could send you into a wild frenzy, like an animal mindlessly desperate for release, but his cursed shadows hadn’t let up at all. Shikaku was a formidable opponent indeed.

“Look at me, sweetheart. Let me see those pretty eyes.”

Obediently, you slid your gaze up to meet his and a fresh wave of arousal washed over you. With his brows drawn in concentration and his lips parted on a quiet exhale, the Jounin commander was the very definition of testosterone fueled desire. Not only did he enjoy playing this game but he wanted you. Not any of the other shinobi working under his command nor any of the civilian women. Not the wife he had waiting for him at home. No one else. Just you. 

Sucking in a sharp breath through your nose, you arched on top of the desk fervently enough to make your spine pop. It served its purpose though and you weakly canted your pelvis against his hand, as much as the unforgiving shadows would allow. Shikaku grunted softly in response and pushed down on your clit a little harder, rubbing you a little faster. The sharp friction had the muscles in your thighs jumping as you squirmed, struggling to keep your eyes open and locked on his face. Every nerve ending in your body was starting to vibrate with the building pressure in your loins, promising the inevitable absolution of release. You were getting close. 

He seemed to realize it at the same time you did though and his fingers retreated, much to your groaning disappointment. Shikaku gave the inside of your cheek a chiding tug to keep you focused on the task at hand and you shuddered when he unceremoniously flipped your skirt up. You issued a wet, faltering groan as the rough pads of his fingers danced across your lower belly before slipping into the band of your underwear. Digits curling, seeking, he dipped his pointer finger between the meat of your labia and reached further back to prod your entrance with a satisfied growl.

“So wet for me … do you like being on the receiving end of my technique that much, sweetheart? Hm?”

You flexed your limbs and moaned in response, feeling the slick trail of saliva oozing from the corner of your mouth to pool under your cheek. It was rapidly cooling in the air and a tremor raced through you when he smeared the sticky arousal gushing from your entrance up to your clit. Using it as a surprisingly effective lubricant, Shikaku started grinding tight circles around the sensitive nub with just enough force to leave you shaking like a leaf under his attention. Your breath caught and you went ramrod stiff, uselessly trying to brace yourself against the staggering pressure. His attack on your body was a concerted and precise one though and you finally had no choice but to toss your head back and suck in a much needed lungful of air. 

“Aahh - aaahhhnn! Sh - Shika -”

The thumb in your mouth abruptly retreated so he could put the flat of his palm on the back of your head and push you down onto his cock again with an accompanying gurgle on your part. “I didn’t say you could stop, did I?” He rumbled in a voice noticeably thicker than usual. 

Toes flexing, you forced your jaw to relax when he pushed his hips forward and Shikaku’s hard length surged towards the back of your throat. The spit running down the side of your face became thicker, bubbling out around him while he paused long enough to find a satisfying rhythm on your clit before pulling back. His first real thrust into your mouth was slow and borderline sensual, almost as if he were making love to you, but the pace quickly picked up. In and out, in and out until he was well and truly fucking into you, the obscene gargling sounds coming from the depths of your salivating mouth ringing loud in the otherwise silent room.

It was all you could do just to keep breathing through your nose as you reeled under the intense onslaught of stimulation. Your pussy throbbed in warning and you keened, eyes rolling into the back of your head. The calloused pads of his fingers were as delightful as they were torturous on your petal soft inner folds and it didn’t take long at all for the friction to become unbearable. You were going to cum. The pressure was reaching the tipping point and the heavy weight of his hand on your skull, the driving force of his cock jabbing towards your constricting throat only heightened the tingling shockwaves of ecstasy. You were going to cum and Shikaku knew that. 

“Let it go, baby.” He gritted out. “Keep my cock in your mouth and cum.”

You tensed at his command, straining so hard against the shadows on your wrists and ankles that your muscles started to ache in protest. It was much too late though and you shattered with a strangled shriek, screwing your eyes shut as you tried to pull back. He kept you right where you were though, his palm pressed flush against your head and his fingers rubbing your spasming cunt in quick, jerky swipes. You jolted on top of the desk, letting the crashing waves of euphoria swallow you up, and unabashedly wailed around the cock thrusting into your mouth. 

“Shit. That’s it. Keep cumming. You want to swallow my load, don’t you?”

The breathy lilt to Shikaku’s rough voice added onto the palpable memory of him shooting thick ropes down your throat made you shudder so violently that your first orgasm bled seamlessly into another. It hit you like a sack of bricks, threatening to bowl you right over as you twisted and writhed as much as his jutsu would permit. High strung tears pricked your lash line, every muscle in your body singing in rapture when he refused to let up the grinding pressure on your clit. He was milking the pleasure out of you the way only he was capable of and you let out a muffled, wordless cry of distress as his hips began to stutter. 

“Here it comes, baby. Get ready.” He seethed through gritted teeth, clutching the back of your head so tight his hand started to shake. 

A few more faltering thrusts was all it took for him to tip over the edge and his cock jerked against your tongue with the first splurt of salty, bitter semen. It hit the roof of your mouth, making you jolt, and a second and then a third pooled at the back of your throat, threatening to choke you. The final bit of creamy discharge oozed out of his pulsing cock to mix with the goopy mess coating your palette and you groaned, basking in the heady flavor of him. It was enough to damn near send you into another fit of convulsions. 

Heaving a satisfied sigh, Shikaku carefully withdrew his flagging cock and lifted the hand from between your legs to gently tilt your chin up at him. “Open.” He huffed, absently caressing the side of your face with his long fingers. 

You obeyed, sticking your tongue out for good measure to show him the white clumps sitting hot and heavy in your mouth. He smiled, very softly, and pushed up on your jaw. 

“Good girl. Now swallow.”

Pulling your swollen lips in a pout, you made a playful show of tilting your head back and choking it all down. You could feel the moment it hit your stomach, an intimate flutter sparking inside your chest. It was hard not to imagine it a little lower, deep in your womb where it could take root and grow into another child. Another Nara. 

That was a dangerous train of thought though and you kept silent when he let up on the chakra feeding into the shadows so that they dissipated, slinking back under the desk where they belonged. Gingerly bringing your arms down to stretch them out, you cautiously peered up at him. Shikaku was watching you with a concealed look of consideration and then, to your surprise, he reached out to softly take your wrist in his hand. 

“Did I hurt you?” 

“No.” You said truthfully, trying not to smile. “You know you didn’t.” 

The corner of his mouth hitched in amusement as he rolled his thumb over the bone to work out the ache he knew you were feeling. “It never hurts to ask though. I don’t think I’d be able to forgive myself if I caused you any harm, even unintentionally.” Bringing your hand up to his face, Shikaku pressed a brief kiss to your palm. “I’m sorry but I need to head home now, sweetheart.” 

“But your paperwork -”

“I’ll take it with me.” He said with a lax shrug as he helped you sit up on the desk. “I probably won’t be getting much sleep anyway. Shikamaru can help me with it while he’s up half the night fussing.” 

You frowned, a tinge of regret putting a damper on your comfortable afterglow as you looked down at your lap. The thought that you were being selfish earlier despite your claim to the contrary flashed through your mind and then camped there, almost making you wish you’d just left it alone. But then Shikaku brought both hands up and cradled your cheeks between his palms so he could lift your attention back to his smiling face. 

“Don’t look so putout. I don’t mind. Really.” Leaning close, he pressed his mouth to your forehead in an affectionate, lingering gesture. “I’ll make it up to you though. How does lunch tomorrow sound?”

Suppressing an excited, tittering giggle, you pinned him with a pleased grin. “Sounds like a date, commander. I can’t wait.” 

“Neither can I.”

#naruto #Shikaku Nara #shikamaru x reader #self insert bullshit

[linechinese]

6 tips on learning Chinese

I contemplated Mandarin Chinese 15 years back. It took me nine months to arrive at a level where I could decipher paper publications from English to Chinese and from Chinese to English, read books and decipher for individuals, I did this in the age of the open-reel recording the device, sometime before the age of the Internet, online word references, language learning applications, MP3 documents, YouTube and cchatty Chinese learning center.

On the off chance that I think about what I did, I find that there were six things that helped me learn quicker than different understudies who were concentrating with me. Underneath I list every one of these tips on the most proficient method to learn Chinese, which you might need to apply to your investigations.

1, Tune in to Mandarin as Often as could be expected under the circumstances

The first month or possibly two, simply center around tuning in.

Begin by concentrating on tuning in. Simply become acclimated to the sounds. You should peruse whatever you are tuning in to, yet do so utilizing the phonetic composing framework, for example, Pinyin, to show signs of improvement feeling of what you are hearing. You should get familiar with the characters in the long run, yet you can forget about the characters from the outset, and rather, attempt to get a little force in the language.

It's too hard even to consider starting learning characters when you don't have any feeling of the words, what they sound like, or how they cooperate. Another dialect can seem like an undifferentiated commotion toward the start. The initial step is to get acclimated with the individual hints of the language, to figure out how to separate words from one another, and even to have a couple of words and expressions resounding in your mind.

My first prologue to Mandarin was tuning in to Chinese Dialogs, middle of the road content without any characters, only romanization, right now Yale form of romanization. Today Pinyin, created in China, has become the standard type of romanization for Mandarin. In Chinese Dialogs, the storyteller talked so quickly I thought he was tormenting us. In any case, it worked. Following a month or so, I was utilized to the speed and had a feeling of the language.

As an aside, I think it is a smart thought to start learning a language with the middle of the road level messages that incorporate a ton of redundancy of jargon, instead of excessively straightforward tenderfoot writings. Digital recordings and book recordings are extraordinary for this. The Mandarin Chinese small scale stories at LingQ are a case of the sort of perspective stories, with a lot of reiteration of high recurrence action words that are accessible today. These were not accessible to me 15 years back.

With a feeling of this energizing new dialect and some aural cognizance, my inspiration to become familiar with the characters developed. I needed to know the characters for the words that I had been tuning in to and becoming acclimated to.

So that is tip number one, to concentrate on tuning in and Pinyin for the principal month or two.

2, Commit Time to Memorizing Characters 

The investigation of Chinese, Mandarin Chinese is a long haul venture. It will acquire your contact with the language and the way of life of well over 20% of humankind and a significant effect on world history. Hence, I generally suggest learning Chinese characters in the event that you will gain proficiency in the language.

When you choose to consider Chinese characters, work at them consistently. Commit thirty minutes to an hour daily just on learning characters. Utilize whatever the technique you need, however, put aside devoted character learning time each day. Why consistently? Since you will overlook the characters nearly as fast as you learn them, and in this manner need to relearn them over and over.

You might need to utilize Anki or some other current PC based learning framework. I built up my own dispersed reiteration framework. I had a lot of 1,000 little cardboard cheat sheets with the most successive 1000 characters. I had sheets of squared paper to work on composing these characters. I would get one card, and record the character multiple times one segment on the squared paper and afterward compose the significance or elocution a couple of sections over. At that point, I would get another cheat sheet and do likewise. Before long I ran into the importance or sound of the last character that I had composed there. I at that point worked that character out again a couple of times, ideally before I had totally overlooked it. I did this for the initial 1000 characters. After that I had the option to learn them by perusing, finding new characters, and haphazardly keeping in touch with them out by hand a couple of times.

As we progress, learning new characters becomes simpler in light of the fact that such a significant number of components rehash in the characters. The characters all have "radicals", segments that give a trace of the importance of a character. There are likewise segments of the characters which propose the sound. These radicals are useful in securing the characters, despite the fact that not from the outset. As with such a great amount in language learning, an excess of clarification forthright is an interruption to procuring the language. I found that the endeavors of educators to clarify these radicals and different parts at the beginning periods of my learning were not to incredible profit. I didn't get them. Simply after enough presentation did I begin to see the segments and that accelerated my learning of the characters.

Tip number two is to truly invest consistently and committed energy into learning characters.

3, Perceive Patterns Rather than Rules Concentrate on designs. Try not to become involved with convoluted syntax clarifications, simply center around designs. At the point when I was contemplating we had a superb book by Harriet Mills and P.S. Ni. It was called Intermediate Reader in Modern Chinese. In each and every exercise they acquainted examples and with me, that is the manner by which I kind of got a feeling of how the language functioned. The examples were the edges around which I could manufacture anything I desired to state.

I have positively no feeling of Chinese language structure or punctuation terms, yet I am very familiar. I have seen books that present uncommon sentence structure terms for Chinese. I don't think they are important. It is smarter to become acclimated to the examples that Chinese uses to communicate things that we express in English utilizing English examples. Chinese has a somewhat uncomplicated language structure, one of the joys of learning Chinese. There are no declensions, conjugations, sexes, action word viewpoints, confounded tenses or different wellsprings of disarray that are found in numerous European dialects.

Tip number three is to concentrate on designs, work them out, say them to yourself, use them when talking or composing, and watch for them when you tune in and read.

On the off chance that you might want a free sentence structure asset to help supplement your learning, at that point I prescribe Chinese syntax assets.

4, Peruse More than You Can Handle Peruse a great deal. 

On the off chance that I learned quicker than my kindred understudies 50 years prior, it is on the grounds that I read all that I could get my hands on. I read considerably more than different understudies. I am discussing unique writings for students, but instead a wide scope of material on subjects important to me. I was helped by the way that the Yale-in-China had an incredible arrangement of perusers with glossaries for every section. We began with student material utilizing something many refer to as Chinese Dialogs, at that point graduated to a reviewed history content called 20 Lectures on Chinese Culture.

20 Lectures were an intriguing open door for me to find out about Chinese history and culture while learning the language. The book comprised uniquely of writings and a glossary, no entangled clarifications, no tests. At the point when I take a gander at a portion of the course readings accessible today focused on transitional and even propelled students, they are brimming with drilling content about anecdotal individuals in China, someone at college who met his companion or went to the stylist or went skating, trailed by clarifications and drills. Not a smart thought except if you are keen regarding these matters.

I moved on from 20 Lectures on Chinese Culture to Intermediate Reader in Modern Chinese out of Cornell University. This was a peruser with valid writings from present-day Chinese legislative issues and history. Every exercise presented designs and downplayed drills and clarifications. Or on the other hand, possibly I simply disregarded them.

Yale had a wide assortment of perusers on legislative issues, history, and writing, all with word records for every section. This was my learning material. The accessibility of word list per part implied that I didn't need to counsel a Chinese lexicon. Before the coming of Alec Tronic or online lexicons, it was very tedious and agonizing to counsel a Chinese word reference. Since we overlook the majority of the things we turn upward in the lexicon, this was a gigantic exercise in futility.

I developed my jargon utilizing these perusers with word records lastly had the option to peruse a book without jargon records, simply disregarding the characters and words that I didn't have the foggiest idea. Following seven or eight months I read my first novel, Rickshaw Boy or 骆驼祥子, which is a well-known novel of life right now during the fierce first 50% of the twentieth century, composed by Lao She.

Tip number four is to peruse as much as you can. This is a lot simpler to do today. You can discover material on the Internet, utilize online word references and applications.

5, Get the Rhythm of the Language to Master the Tones

Concentrate on tuning in. I attempted to tune in to whatever content I was perusing. Perusing encourages you to learn the jargon, yet listening causes you to associate with the language and get readied to talk. Listening cognizance is the center's expertise important so as to participate in discussions with individuals.

One of the difficulties of Mandarin is the tones. We gain proficiency with the tone of each character as we get jargon, however, it is hard to recall these when talking. It is critical to disguise the tones as a major aspect of expressions. Listening encourages you to do this. The pitch and cadence of Mandarin, or some other language, can just originate from tuning in to the local speaker. You can't learn it hypothetically.

Specifically, I discovered tuning in to customary Chinese comic discoursed, Xiang Sheng, 相声, an extraordinary method to get the beat of the language and of the tones since these entertainers overstate the pitch. These days you can locate these web-based, including the transcripts and even import them into a framework like cchatty. This was not accessible to me 50 years prior.

Actually, there is an enormous exhibit of listening material accessible for download on every single imaginable subject or you can purchase CDs on the off chance that you are in China. In our cutting edge world, all the material you find on the Internet, or material you may discover in CDs, can be changed over into downloadable sound records which you can have with you any place you go on an MP3 player or an advanced cell. Steady tuning in, in any event, for brief times of five or 10 minutes while you're standing by someplace, can significantly build the time accessible for learning any language, including Mandarin Chinese.

This was not accessible to me 50 years back. I truly needed to sit before my open reel recording device with my headphones on. The circumstance has changed significantly. I needed to scan book shops for a sound substance to tune in to on my recording device. Today there is no restriction on the material you can discover, and there is no restriction to where and when you can tune in.

Exploit and listen at whatever point you can. That is tip number 5.

6, Talk a great deal with a teacher in cchatty

The individual hints of Mandarin are not hard for an English speaker to make. The tones are an alternate story. You should rehearse a great deal with a guider, you can practice with a Chinese teacher in cchatty, both addressing yourself and addressing others. Work on emulating what you are tuning in to. Discover writings for which you have the sound. Tune in to an expression or sentence, at that point attempt to mimic the pitch, without stressing a lot over individual sounds. You may even need to record yourself to look at. On the off chance that you can get "contaminated" with the mood of the language, not exclusively will your control of tones improve, yet your selection of words will likewise turn out to be increasingly local like. At the point when you talk, don't re-think yourself on tones, or some other part of the language. Simply let the words and expressions you have heard and rehearsed stream out, missteps whatnot. Each time you utilize the language you are rehearsing and becoming acclimated to it. In the event that you appreciate communicating in Chinese, on the off chance that you appreciate getting in the stream, singing to the musicality, at that point your Mandarin will keep on improving. Try not to stress over acing elocution toward the start. We can't articulate what we don't hear, nor mirror sounds and pitch that don't impact us. So as to develop the capacity to hear the language and to feel the music of the language, we basically need to tune in to hundreds or even a large number of hours and permit the mind to become accustomed to the new dialect. You can't surge this procedure. Rather you should confide in the way that you will steadily and normally show signs of improvement. Accordingly whatever organize you are at in Mandarin, simply talk without dread and trust your impulses. In the event that you proceed with your perusing and listening exercises, and on the off chance that you keep talking, your talking abilities will normally improve. Here you can find out about: The most ideal approach to become familiar with a language.

So my 6th and last tip are simply put it all on the line and you'll get the cadence. Good karma!

#learn chinese #cchatty

[let-it-raines]

hello! i have a prompt: “my brother/sister talks about this friend of his and how great we would be together so he sets up a double date and holy shit, it’s the guy i slept with about a month ago” Thank you!

Hi, guys! Look, it’s a wild prompt story! I promise I didn’t abandon them, and I hope you guys enjoy this tale! 

“You don’t have to go.”

She turns back to look at the man lounging in bed, his hands crossed behind his head and his body on full display to her. She thinks about his words as her eyes trace the strong lines of his legs, the defined muscles there, and move up to his hips where the muscles dip into a v and the dark hair guides her to the already hardening length that drove her to madness no less than five minutes ago. The man is beautiful, stunning really, and she’s never seen eyes that blue or lashes that long before, not that were natural or anything.

He is stunning, and he has this deep, rumbling British accent that melted her, the one who does not melt, into a puddle of arousal while at the bar where’d they met a few hours ago. He’d been funny too, charming, all of the things that a man usually is when trying to pick up a woman at a bar, and she’d played along like they were both reading the same sheet music. She didn’t give anything but her last name, Swan, and he didn’t give anything but his last name, Jones.

All in all, it may have been one of the best one-night stands she’s ever had.

But that’s all it was. It was one night, no full names, and as much as she’d like to stay, maybe sleep with him again, it’s not really her cup of tea…or coffee. He’s the British one.

“I really do,” she tells him, pulling on her jeans, the material tight against her thighs, and zipping them up before she grabs the gray v-neck he’d been wearing earlier that showed his chest hair and the necklaces hanging against his skin, the ones she’d used to pull his mouth closer to hers. “But it was a really good time. Congrats on the,” she motions over to him, “cock.”

He snorts, the sound high pitched compared to the low rumble of his laugh. “Thanks, lass. You realize that’s my shirt, aye?”

“I know.”

“And since I’m assuming this was a one-time thing, how am I supposed to get it back?”

She shrugs, the material falling off of her shoulder while she pulls on her boots. “Guess you’ll just have to figure that one out, Jones.”

Jones raises one dark eyebrow, his forehead lines crinkling, before absolutely smirking at her. “I do love a challenge.”

“So what time am I supposed to be at dinner, Margarita?” Emma questions while brushing her teeth, the words coming out muffled.

“Six and you’re supposed to bring a dessert.”

She spits into the sink, the blue toothpaste marking the white bowl, before rinsing off her brush and sticking it in its holder. “Can I buy it?”

“No, you have to make it.”

“Are you serious? Why can’t I buy it?”

“Because Emma,” Mary Margaret scolds, using the same voice she uses with her five-year-old son, “this is a potluck dinner we’re doing with everyone from David’s work where they bring their families, and everyone is bringing something homemade.”

“And why am I coming to this again?”

“Because you’re part of David’s family.”

She groans, leaning down and splashing water on her face before applying her face wash and rubbing it in, the suds bubbling up. “I’m technically not related, genetically speaking.”

“You were adopted. That’s the same thing.”

“Technically – ”

“Emma Swan, you are going to make dessert, and you are going to put on a nice outfit and smile and come tonight. End of story.”

“Damn,” she mutters under her breath, knowing Mary Margaret can hear her through the speaker, “Leo and David better stay on your good side tonight or they’re going to be buried under your classroom books tomorrow.”

“And you with them.”

Emma hangs up the phone after Mary Margaret reminds her to bring a dessert five more times, telling her to put it in the nice serving dish they gave her for Christmas last year, and tells her to wear the blue dress. Yeah, she’s not wearing that dress tonight, but she can do everything else. Maybe. Hopefully. She lives off of take-out and leftovers, but she’s sure she can make a dessert. She just doesn’t know what.

She moves out of the bathroom after blow drying her hair and plops down on her bed, which also doubles as her couch in her studio apartment, and scrolls through her laptop for easy dessert recipes, things that don’t involve a lot of mixing or baking…which is pretty much every dessert. But then she remembers there’s such a thing as cookies and while it’s not technically handmade, she can buy the pre-made dough and pop them in the oven, problem solved. It’s following all of Mary Margaret’s weird rules – technically of course – so the woman can’t say anything. She can’t expect Emma to make a soufflé. That would be ridiculous.

It only takes her five minutes to run down to the grocery store near her apartment, popping in while still in her pajamas, and grabbing cookie dough for peanut butter cookies (so what that she enjoys those more than chocolate chip) as well as a few bananas simply because she should probably eat some fruit every now and then. The rest of her morning is spent working on her open cases, trying to find any information she can on Elizabeth Moore’s husband and whether or not he’s cheating. Her job doesn’t exactly give her a lot of confidence in the fact that people stay faithful in relationships, but she gets paid whether the spouses are cheating or not.

She just kind of prefers that they aren’t. Giving people that news isn’t exactly the best of things to do.

Around five the cookies go in the oven, and she really hopes that the whole uneven cooking thing doesn’t happen like when she was making a pizza last week. While they’re baking, she heads over to her clothing rack, grabbing a black and white plaid skirt and an oversized v-neck t-shirt, pulling them on and tucking the t-shirt in before slipping into her black ankle boots. She thinks this entire night is idiotic. She should be able to hang out with David and Mary Margaret while in sweatpants and a t-shirt, but now she’s got to do it while dressed up and with other people. That may be the worst part. It’s not that she doesn’t like other people. It’s that she doesn’t like David’s coworkers. Some of them are okay, but his boss, Walsh, is an absolute asshole who got pissed when she told him she didn’t want to date him.

Rejections hurt, dude, but there’s no need to be rude about it. They’d literally only known each other a day, and he acted like she’d broken his heart after two years of dating and then burned all of his possessions.

The timer on her phone goes off, and she heads to the oven, grabbing an oven mitt and pulling the cookies out, praying that they don’t stick or aren’t burned or undercooked. She totally should have bought something and then passed it off as her own, but whatever. What’s done is done. After plating them on the serving dish that the Nolans gave her, she makes her way out the door, walking the few blocks to their farmhouse on the outskirts of Downtown Storybrooke.

When she walks up their driveway, the street is already covered in cars, and she can see people moving inside of the home. Taking a deep breath, she prepares herself for small talk and reminds herself that the food others bring will likely make this worth it. And alcohol. There has to be alcohol.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret greets before she can even take a step up onto their porch. Was she waiting for her? “I’m so glad you’re here. And you brought cookies. Oh, I’m sure these will be wonderful.”

“Well, you know me and my culinary skills.”

“I don’t know how you survive,” Mary Margaret sighs, taking the plate from her hands and ushering her inside to the consistent chatter and clinking of glasses as well as children running back and forth.

“Takeout and your leftovers,” she answers honestly, immediately walking to the kitchen where she knows David will at least have a beer. Sure enough, he’s standing in front of the fridge talking to some guy while the both of them have bottles in their hand. The moment he sees her, he smiles, waving and beckoning her forward until she wraps her arms around his waist and hugs him in greeting. “Hey, David. You hiding out in here?”

“Just getting something to drink. Emma, I have someone I want you to meet. This is my new partner, Killian.”

She releases David to turn and greet this guy, kind words already on the tip of her tongue, but the moment she sees him, every word she’s ever known is swallowed back. Shit. Shit. Shit. How can this possibly be happening? Is the entire world playing some kind of practical joke on her? Because there’s no way in hell the guy she had a one-night stand with a month ago could possibly be her brother’s new partner down at the station.

Just no. This isn’t happening.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” he greets, the accent exactly the same as it was a month ago even in a different, far brighter environment. “I’m Killian Jones.”

“Emma Swan,” she grits out, plastering a smile on her face knowing that David is right next to her and not wanting him to have any idea that his partner has slept with her. That would be a disaster for everyone. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

He smiles, his perfectly white teeth on full display, and she tries to ignore the flashes of their night together that are coming back. This is all one big nightmare and something that’s not going to go away as long as he’s working with David. She just hopes that he doesn’t say something stupid. She doesn’t know the man. She’s only met him once, and despite a good first impression, she’s not sure if he’s going to be a jerk about things or not.

“I like your shirt, love. I used to have one just like it.”

Heat rises to her cheeks, her entire face likely as red as a tomato, and it takes everything in her not to tell him to fuck off even if she did steal his shirt. Instead she says, “Thanks. I’m sure you can find a replacement for yours. They’re pretty common.” She turns to David then, not wanting to continue this conversation. “You got one of those for me?”

David nods before opening the fridge and handing her a beer. She takes it, twisting it open, and excuses herself claiming to go talk to Mary Margaret. Really, she’s heading away from anyone who has seen her naked and just attempting to breathe. And maybe to get something to eat. There’s got to be good food here.

It’s later that she’s sitting in the living room picking at her plate when the seat on the couch next to her is suddenly taken, the weight causing her to shift the slightest bit.

“Listen, love – ”

“I’m not your love.”

Killian clicks his tongue, and she turns to stare at him, wondering how he could protest that at all, but as she faces him, she sees Mary Margaret staring at her from the kitchen, not even trying to hide it. And that’s when she gets it. This night was going to be a set up between she and Killian, and she is not falling for that. She despises Mary Margaret’s set ups, and this one is especially not going to work.

“I am aware of this, Swan,” he drawls, bringing her attention back to him. “That’s what I was trying to say. I, well, I am perfectly aware of what our dalliance was. I’m not expecting anything else, and from what I gather, you’d like it to be kept a secret from your brother.”

Who the hell calls a one-night stand a dalliance?

“I would. I don’t exactly share my dalliances with him to begin with, but I think it’d be smart for us to keep it quiet. And to ignore the set up that Mary Margaret is obviously trying to do.”

He raises an eyebrow, his forehead crinkling with the movement. “Set up?”

“Ah, yes,” she sighs, leaning back on the couch and resting her head on the cushion, “how many times have you met Mary Margaret?”

“Three times.”

“And how long did it take you before she weaseled out that you are single? You are single, right?” He nods his head, and she sighs in relief knowing she didn’t sleep with a married man. She is not here to be doing shit like that.

“I think she asked me the first time we met if I was married or have children. She wasn’t very subtle about it.”

“Yeah, that’s Margarita for you.”

“I’m sorry, Margarita?”

“It’s a nickname. She’s been plastered once in her life, and it was because of margaritas. I thought it was a fitting nickname. Anyways, she’s in love with love. Like, she thinks weddings are the best thing on the planet, that Hallmark movies are great cinematic feats, and mostly, it’s her lifelong goal to set me up with a man who will marry me and knock me up.”

Killian grimaces, his face scrunching up so that the lines around his eyes crinkle. “That sounds…interesting.”

“Yep.” She looks around the room, checking to see if anyone is listening, but they’re all still caught up in their own conversations. “So in you walk in, likely a new transfer to the police station, and she sizes you up. She sees that you’re attractive, single, and I’m guessing a charmer if how we met is any indication. So in her head, she’s putting us together, thinking that we’d be a great match, and I can almost guarantee that she’s likely imagined what our children would look like.”“That’s bloody disturbing.”

“That’s Mary Margaret. So when tonight is over, you’re going to leave, and I’m going to be bombarded with questions by her, and David will be forced to ask you questions at work tomorrow. Just say that I’m a nice girl, but I’m not your type or something cliché. They get disappointed, but it works.”

“Well, what makes you say that we’re not going to hit if off? I think we’re doing great.”

She scoffs, the familiar heat rising to her cheeks that she’s trying to tamper down so that her face doesn’t turn red. “I don’t do relationships, and I really don’t do them with people who I slept with just to release some tension.”

Something crosses his face, a mix between amusement and disappointment, but he quickly schools his features. “If that’s what you want.” He studies her for a minute, the blue of his eyes tracing her face until they trail down to her exposed shoulder. “I could arrest you for stealing my shirt, you know?”

She clicks her tongue before leaning over and whispering in his ear. “You should probably know not to sleep with random women at bars then. You never know if they might be a thief.”

She’s sitting in the corner of the Velveteen Café with her hat pulled low over her forehead and her laptop in front of her as she watches to see who Hunter Moore is meeting, if he’s even meeting anyone. He comes here nearly every day at the same time, but it’s usually always alone. If he’s with someone, it’s a fellow doctor, and she’s almost completely sure that he’s not cheating on his wife. They definitely have some obvious communication issues, but Mr. Moore seems like a guy who goes to work, eats the same lunch every day, and then goes home to his wife. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who is sleeping with a nurse on the side…unless that’s exactly what he’s doing and that’s why she hasn’t seen anything. She can’t exactly sneak around the hospital looking in on call rooms. And she’s pretty sure Grey’s Anatomy overexaggerates people sleeping together in hospitals…not that it doesn’t happen. It just doesn’t happen at that frequency.

She makes a note to figure out a way to check out what’s happening in the hospital and to see if she can find a reason to roam the hallways without breaking some kind of privacy law, but for now, she thinks that she’s likely getting paid just to tell Elizabeth Moore that she needs to talk to her husband, which is so not what her job is supposed to be.

Her phone rings, Mary Margaret’s picture popping up from Leo’s fifth birthday party, and she slides her finger across the screen to quietly answer so as not to disturb anyone else in the café. “Hey, Margarita.”

“Hi, hon,” she greets, the sound of children eating in the cafeteria at her school in the background, “do you have a minute to talk?”

“I’m on a bit of a stakeout, but I can multi-task. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to talk about the party the other night. You and Killian seemed to be getting along.”

And there it is. She was wondering when this was going to happen, and honestly, Mary Margaret waiting nearly a week is some impressive resolve.

“Marg, that may have been one of your more obvious set ups. Seriously. You have absolutely no shame.”

“Oh come on, Emma. The man is beautiful and so, so kind. You guys would be so good together. Why won’t you give him a chance?”

She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose while watching Mr. Moore order his food (alone). “He’s a nice guy, but I’m just not interested.”

“Why not?”

“You know why.”

“It’s been years since Neal. You can’t let him still affect you like this.”

“He fucking cheated on me and then tried to frame me for him stealing jewelry. If I hadn’t been with David at the time, I’d be in jail. That’s not something you just get over.”

“Emma – ”

“Just no, Mary Margaret. I love you, and I appreciate all that you do, but no more set ups. No more trying to get me to be happy when I already am.”

“I’m…I’m sorry. I was just trying to be a good friend.”

“I know, and you are. But maybe we go about it in a different way, yeah?”

Mary Margaret sighs on the other end of the phone at the same time that a bell rings. “I’ve got to go. Will we still see you at dinner at Friday night dinner?”

“Yep. Can’t break that. Emily Gilmore would have my head. Love you, Margarita.”

“Love you, too.”

Moore leaves at the same time as he always does, and because she does need to check out what he does after this, she follows him back to the hospital. He stops at the reception desk, chatting with the people who work there, before moving along and taking an elevator, the doors closing before she can get there to see where he’s going. Damn.

Sighing, she walks back toward the entrance, fully intent to come up with some kind of new game plan, when she walks right into a solid body.

“If you wanted to get close to me, all you had to do was ask.”

Is the world out to get her? It has to be. Hasn’t she had enough bad luck in life? Can’t she catch some kind of break?

“Hi, Jones,” she grits, rolling her eyes and backing up, releasing her grip on his biceps, “that was, um, an accident. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

He reaches up to scratch behind his ear while his lips tick up on one side. “Swan, what are you doing at the hospital? Everything alright?”

“I’m working.”

“Are you a doctor?”

She scoffs, the thought of her being a doctor absolutely ridiculous. “I’m a private investigator.”

He quirks an eyebrow again, something she’s learned that he does frequently. “Interesting.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Nothing, it’s just fitting for you.”

“Yeah, whatever,” she sighs, taking a step to the side so she can leave. “I’ve got to go.”

“See you around, Swan,” he smiles, subtly winking at her. “If only because we can’t seem to stop running into each other. Literally.”

For someone who she didn’t see for a month after they slept together, she sees Killian Jones at least once every few days ever since the party at David and Mary Margaret’s house. If part of her job wasn’t watching people’s moves and noticing subtle changes and differences, she’d think he was stalking her. But he’s not.

When she sees him at the police station while meeting David for lunch, that’s on her for going to his place of work. When he joins them for said lunch, that’s on David for inviting him. She wants to say that it’s awkward, and honestly it kind of is when he licks his lips or makes one of those creepy, sensual sounds that some people do while eating, but it’s not truly awkward. As far as she can tell, he’s not a bad guy. An incessant flirt but not a bad guy. But he’s still someone who she slept with who she has no interest in getting to know more, so she suffers through the lunch because she wants to spend time with David.

It’s a little bit weirder when she sees him at the grocery store, loading up on fruits and vegetables as well as fresh fish while she’s got processed food, frozen pizza, and the obligatory fruit she picks up to trick herself into being a healthy eater. She works out a hell of a lot so she can eat junk, but at some point she should likely tone it down. They say their hellos, casually look into the other’s cart, and then go on with their lives only to meet up on the sidewalk while walking home. She forgot that he lives a few apartment buildings down from her, and when she mentions that while they’re walking, his face flushes and he scratches behind his ear before dismissing the fact that she knows where he lives.

By the time she starts seeing him at her gym, lifting weights while she’s on mile four of her run wondering if it’s all worth it as sweat pools at the small of her back, she’s kind of accepted that he’s now a casual part of her life. They say hi, make small talk, and she tries to forget how he looks while thrusting into her as sweat coats his arms and forms at his forehead while he exercises. Yeah, so the gym is the worst place to see him. She obviously finds him attractive, wouldn’t have slept with him if she didn’t, but she’s starting to be attracted to him, which is not something that she wants.

Storybrooke is simply too damn small.

It’s pouring down rain this morning, the dips in the street filling with water while cars drive through it and splash the water up onto the sidewalk. This weather makes her absolutely miserable, and all she really wants is to cuddle up in bed and watch Netflix all day with the lights turned off. The only problem with that is that she’s starving today and doesn’t feel like cooking, so she dresses in her rain boots and coat, bundling up and driving to Granny’s, not even bothering to walk. When she walks inside, the bell ringing over the door, there’s only a few people inside, Leroy, Victor, Ashley and Sean…Killian.

She chuckles under her breath when she sees him sitting in the back booth, a cup of coffee and an omelet on his table while he reads the newspaper. She knew he was old fashioned, but she didn’t know he was thatold fashioned. She doesn’t know what possess her to walk across the small diner and slide into the seat across from him, but she does, the material of the booth squeaking when her wet jacket touches it.

“Hello, love,” Killian greets without looking up from his newspaper.

“What are you reading?”

He passes the newspaper over to her while taking a sip of his coffee, seemingly not bothered at all by her intrusion of his breakfast, and when she sees what he was reading, she’s honestly in no way shocked.

“You’re reading about soccer in the newspaper?”

“Football, Swan. It’s called football.”

“In America, football is something totally different and the players aren’t quite as hot as soccer players.”

Killian chuckles, his lips ticking up on both sides while his eyes crinkle, and she feels proud of herself for making him laugh. “I played…soccer as a child. Does this hotness thing apply to me?”

“Shut up, Jones,” she laughs, passing the newspaper back to him and flagging down Ruby with a wolf whistle knowing that’s the best way to get her attention when she’s flirting with Victor. “But seriously. Couldn’t you have just read about this on your phone or something?”

“Eh, most likely, but this paper costs a quarter, and I like to give back to a dying industry.”

“Aren’t you a philanthropist?”

“Philanthropist and hot football player. You’re flattering me this morning, Swan.”

“I did not say the hot thing.”

“I think you’re hot,” Ruby adds in when she walks up to the table, winking at Killian only for him to wink back. Something settles in her stomach. It’s heavy and unfamiliar, and she hates it. “You need some more coffee, Officer?”

“I believe Miss Swan was trying to get your attention, love.”

“I know,” Ruby sighs, looking over to her then, “I was just messing with Emma. She hates when I don’t get her food right away even when I already put in her regular order.”

“Such a saint, Rubes.”

“I know, I know. I’m going to go get your coffee now since you don’t take it black like this weirdo.”

Ruby walks away after pouring Killian’s coffee and as Emma’s about to excuse herself to sit somewhere else, the awkwardness beginning to sink in, her phone buzzes in her back pocket.

Ruby: When did you and Jones start dating?

If she had a drink, she’d spit it out.

Emma: We’re not.

Ruby: I don’t believe it.

Ruby: Do you want whipped cream on your waffles?

Emma: Obviously.

Ruby: So you are dating?

Emma: No, I just want the whipped cream.

Ruby: Okay, but don’t use it to get freaky in the bathroom.

She snorts as she looks down at her phone before putting it away and finding Killian with an amused look on his face as he stares at her. “What? Why are you staring?”

“Nothing. You just looked amused.”

“It’s just Ruby being ridiculous. You’ll learn her ways eventually.”

“So I’ve gathered since I moved here.”“Why, um,” she begins, already regretting the words. “Never mind.”

“No, love, you can ask.” He smiles, nodding his head as if to encourage her that he doesn’t mind her asking him personal questions.

“Why did you move here? Storybrooke isn’t exactly a place where a lot of detectives want to move.”

Killian shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee even as steam moves above it. How is he not burning his tongue? “I, um, well, I’d been living in Boston the past few years, working there, but I needed a change of pace.”

“Bad breakup?”

“You could say that.”

That’s not an answer, but it’s really none of her business. He’s sharing more than she ever expected him to. “Well, I’m sorry. Breakups are hell, even if they’re amicable.”

“Aye.”

Ruby brings her food and coffee to her then, the whipped cream piled extra high on the waffles, and she has to stifle her laugh when she sees that. She and Killian chat a bit more as she eats and he finishes his food, and by the end of her meal, she realizes how normal that was, how normal a lot of their interactions have been. It shouldn’t be like this. If she were to run into any of her other one-night stands, she’d literally run in the other direction. But she’s forming what has to be a friendship with him, and she’s not sure that she likes that.

“Okay, so explain to me why we’re meeting at your house at four in the morning.”

“Because Killian mentioned to David that he was going to wake up early to watch a soccer game, and David invited him to watch at our house and make it this whole thing to make him feel at home. He’s apparently been through some things in the past few years.”

She wants to ask what things, to question it more, but it doesn’t feel right asking about his past behind his back. She’d be pissed if someone did that to her, so she leaves it be, pushing the curiosity about how bad exactly his breakup was for David and Mary Margaret to be trying to get her to watch a soccer game before the sun has even risen. “And why am I coming to this, Margarita?”

“Because,” she sighs on the other end, “hey, no Leo. Don’t get something to eat. Dinner is in a few minutes. Because he doesn’t have a lot of friends, and you guys are kind of friends. Also we’re going to cook a big breakfast.”

“Well, now you’re speaking my language.”

Her alarm goes off at half past three the next morning, and instead of getting dressed, she brushes her teeth and braids her hair before driving to David and Mary Margaret’s house. She should have walked, but she doesn’t think her legs are capable of that it this moment. Of course, driving probably wasn’t the best option, but she’s here and didn’t hit anyone.

“I hate you,” she mumbles to Mary Margaret as soon as she walks in, immediately making her way into the living room and flopping down on the couch next to Killian who looks wide away as he turns on the television. “I hate you too.”

“Good morning to you too, Swan,” he greets, his voice tired but cheery. “What’s got you in such a good mood this morning?”

“It’s still dark outside, and I’m up to watch soccer. I don’t even do that on my own time when it’s the middle of the afternoon.”

“It’ll be worth it. I promise.”

The match starts, but with the way that the lights in the room are all turned off, all she can really do is drift off to sleep as the whistle blows. When she wakes, there’s a warm body and moving chest underneath her cheek while a hand plays with the hair at the end of her braid. The green of the field comes back into vision first, the game still going on, and then everything else comes back to her.

Please be David she’s leaning on. Please be David.

“Get in a good nap there, Swan?”

It’s not David. Shit.

“What time is it?”

“Just past five, love. You fell asleep before the match started.”

“Ah hell,” she sighs when she finally sits up, the loss of warmth immediate, “so I literally came over here for nothing.”

“Well, we had a nice cuddle, so I wouldn’t say that.”

She chokes on her own saliva, having to cough it up. She can’t believe he just said that…that he was so open to admitting that. She is not like that. She avoids and denies. She does not just state the obvious that she fell asleep on him.

Killian pats her back, trying to help her, but she’s pretty sure that he makes it worse. God, this is not at all how this morning was supposed to go. She was supposed to watch a sport she doesn’t care about and eat food, and all she’s done is accidentally fall asleep and drool on Killian’s shirt before choking.

“Did you really just say that?”

He shrugs. “It’s what happened.”

“No, I fell asleep and happened to lean to the left when I could have leaned to the right. It was an accident.” She finally looks around the room then, noticing that the other seats are empty. “Where are David and Mary Margaret?”

“They went upstairs and went back to bed.”

…no. Hell no. This is not happening. She cannot believe them. “Fuck. Are you serious?”

“Yeah, about thirty minutes ago they went back upstairs. Said they’d come back down for breakfast around six or seven with Leo.”

She gets up from the couch, shedding the blanket Killian must have covered her with before she begins pacing the room, trying to calm her heartrate even as the pacing makes it speed up. “This was another set up. And it wasn’t even subtle. A soccer game at four in the morning? Claiming that you needed some friends to watch with because you’re missing home? That’s so obvious, and I didn’t even see it. And then they go to bed when they’re supposed to be spending time here with you. What a load of crap.”

“Swan, I don’t think that’s what’s happening here.”

“Of course it is! I bet you didn’t even mention that there was a game. Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

“Love, calm down,” Killian encourages, stepping over to her and placing his hands on her shoulders so that she looks up at him. “I did mention the match, and I have been having a hard time missing home. Last week was the anniversary of my brother’s death, and they saw that I needed some company. And I told them to go back to bed when they were yawning every two seconds. I promise this wasn’t a set up. I wouldn’t let them do that to you or to me. I’m not interested in being set up.”

Wait. What? His brother? He has a brother. Or really, he had a brother. Oh. Shit.

“Oh…I, um, I feel like an idiot. I didn’t know…about any of that, about your brother.”

“Tis not your fault. It’s not something I like to talk about.”

An awkward silence settles between the two of them, his hands still on her shoulders and her toes resting against his. If she pressed up on her toes, she could kiss him, and the thought shakes her. She’s kissed him before. He’s a damn good kisser, and she’s tempted to do it again. But now isn’t the time for something like that. He just told her about his dead brother, so instead of pressing up on her toes, she wraps her arms around his stomach and hugs him, holds him really. It takes a moment for him to hug her back, the hesitance obviously there, but he eventually does, pulling her body closer to him and feeling the heat of it.

“Thank you, Emma.”

It’s the first time he’s called her Emma, and she doesn’t know why that’s something she notices, but she does. And she feels some kind of monumental shift in…everything.

Instead of going back and watching the game, she and Killian head into the Nolans’ kitchen. Killian’s apparently a big cook, so he directs her in slicing apples and mixing flour all to make a breakfast casserole with bread, apples, cheese, and bacon. It sounds kind of gross, but he promises that it’ll be good. She doesn’t know when she started trusting him, but she does, in his breakfast food prowess and in life.

She doesn’t ask, but he tells her all about Liam and how he was a brother, father, and best friend all rolled up into one after their father abandoned them and their mom died of cancer. It breaks her heart at the same time that she’s breaking an egg, but it also reassures her that Killian understands what it’s like to be left alone. Except she found a family in David and Ruth and eventually Mary Margaret, and he lost his.

Liam was his Captain in the Royal Navy, literally and figuratively, and when he died ten years ago, so did Killian’s passion and love for the service and the sea. How he tells the story without breaking all while cooking is something she doesn’t understand, but maybe he’s stronger than her. Or maybe he’s learned to be alone and how to deal with his grief.

Mostly, she thinks he’s just being brave.

“So how did you end up here, though? I know you said a breakup, but that sounds like an awfully bad breakup for you to have to leave Boston. That’s a huge ass city.”

He pops the casserole in the oven before washing his hands, seemingly avoiding her question, but then he sits on the barstool and looks at her with the clearest blue eyes she’s ever seen. “I was dating a married woman, Milah. I bloody loved her even when I found out she was married, and I was going to stay with her. I was in too deep when I found everything out, and I think I was too weak to walk away.”

“What changed?”

“She decided to go back to her husband, or really to commit solely to her husband. And, God, love, I can’t blame her. She was never supposed to be with me, but she broke my heart regardless.”

She doesn’t know what to say, how to respond to that. She’s learned so much about Killian Jones in the past hour, and she’s the wrong person for him to be trusting with his heart. She doesn’t even trust herself with her own.

“I know you probably think I’m a fuck up,” he continues, his voice the most broken she’s heard it.

“Hey,” she soothes, reaching over the counter and placing her hands over his knuckles, “I don’t think that at all. We’ve all got fucked up pasts.”

“Yeah?”

“I could fill a book with mine. One day, I might even share them with you.”

“Does this mean you’re planning on speaking to me again after today?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He smiles, and it’s beautiful. “Perhaps I would.”

Killian: Did you know you’re twice as likely to be killed by a vending machine than a shark?

Emma: There’s no way that’s true.

Killian: It is. There’s scientific proof.

Killian: I have a university degree, love.

Emma: Yeah, well, so does Leroy, and I don’t trust him.

Killian: I am not Leroy.

Emma: True, but he’s more of a charmer than you.

Killian: …

Killian: I think you owe me an apology for that.

Killian: I am much more charming.

Emma: Did you know that statistically speaking Leroy Coleman is more likely to be more charming than Killian Jones?

The three little dots indicating he’s typing don’t pop up immediately like they have been for the past hour, and she stares at her phone a little too long to wait for them to appear. This has been happening far too often lately, not the waiting for him to text back…just the texting in general. It’s every day, all day, even with the sporadic gaps between them when they’re working. If she thinks about it, she can piece together all of the little moments where she and Killian became friends, but she knows that the biggest part of it was that day at David and Mary Margaret’s. it’s been weeks since then, summer completely fading into fall as October began and pumpkins were placed at every door step while colorful leaves cover the ground.

What she can’t pinpoint is the moment she developed real feelings past attraction for him. They’ve probably always been there, simmering beneath the surface waiting to boil over ever since that first night, but she hasn’t let them. But now it’s not just the fact that she knows how he kisses and how he…maneuvers himself in the bedroom. It’s also that she knows who he is as a person. He’s kind and smart and funny, and he has the ability to turn any conversation into a dirty joke. Seriously. Last week there was one when they were talking about cherries on the top of a milkshake and…never mind. She can’t even think it without turning as red as, well, a cherry.

So she likes him. She likes him even though she told herself she shouldn’t, and she likes him even though she knows it’ll give Mary Margaret some kind of sick satisfaction that her set up worked, even if Emma technically met Killian all on her own.

Killian: What size t-shirt do you wear?

Emma: I feel like this is some kind of weird, creeper question.

Killian: Obviously, yes.

Emma: I wear a small for fitted t-shirts, but I usually go a size or two up for others.

Emma: Why?

Killian: That’s my secret to keep.

“Weirdo,” she laughs to herself, shoving her phone in her back pocket and going back to working on her new case since she finally finished the Moore case. He wasn’t even cheating, and it took months to figure out. Go figure.

“Happy Birthday,” Ruby screams the moment she walks into the Rabbit Hole, holding her arms out and smothering Emma in a hug that takes her breath away. “You need shots.”

“I am not getting drunk tonight, Rubes,” she tells her as she pushes her away so that she has her personal space.

“What the hell is the point of going out to a bar for a birthday if you’re not going to get drunk?”

“To celebrate me and the fact that I’ve made it twenty-eight years without dying?”

“Such an accomplishment.”

Ruby hooks her arm around her shoulders, dragging her over to where the rest of her friends are waiting…except for Killian. He’s supposed to be here. He said he would be here, and she doesn’t see him anywhere.

What the hell?

David, Mary Margaret, Victor, and Ruby keep her entertained, buying her a beer or two and not anything like vodka, and as much as she tries to not be disappointed and think about Killian, not showing up, she can’t. He is supposed to be here. He isn’t supposed to leave. So where is he?

“Swan,” a familiar voice yells, and she finds its owner when she looks over to the entrance. He’s standing there in black jeans and an unbuttoned plaid shirt with a white t-shirt underneath it, his hair windswept and honestly a bit crazy, but she doesn’t care. All she cares about is that he showed up…and a little bit about why he was late.

She starts moving at the same time that he does, his feet carrying her faster than hers, and when they reach each other, it’s like a bit of a cheesy rom com moment until he knocks his forehead into hers while going in for a hug and the both of them recoil in pain.

“Shit.”

“Fuck.”

“I, uh,” he holds out a wrapped present, “happy birthday, love.”

She takes the package out of his hands, feeling the light weight of it, before looking up at him and slapping his chest. “Where the hell were you?”

“Ah,” Killian sighs, scratching behind his ear and ticking his lips up on one side, “it’s your present. I meant to get it last week, but for some reason it was bloody hard to find in Storybrooke. And I got distracted and busy at work, and I had to drive to the Target outside of town tonight to get it. But then I got a flat tire, and it’s just been…it’s been a disaster. But I’m here now.”

“This is true. It kind of sounds like you had some shit luck there.”

Killian leans forward and presses a kiss against her cheek, his lips warm and whiskers rough, and she sighs into it. “I’m kind of hoping that it’s going to get better.”

She is too.

Emma keeps to her words of not getting drunk, only drinking too beers and taking one shot of tequila to appease Ruby, but even with the alcohol and slight buzz, she’s every bit as coherent as she normally is. And that’s exactly why she notices and isn’t bothered by the fact that the only one of her friends remaining is Killian, everyone else slipping out the door and going home some time ago.

“I should probably go home soon, Jones.”

“Aye. Can I walk you home?”

“Such a gentlemanly offer.”

“Well, I am always a gentleman.”

They walk out of the Rabbit Hole, her present from Killian still unwrapped and in her hand, before ambling out onto the streets of Storybooke and back to her apartment. Like everywhere in this town, nothing is out of walking distance, so it only takes a few minutes before they’re standing at the front door that leads into her building.

“You can open that, you know,” Killian suggests as he nods down to the box in her hand. “I was kind of hoping you would.”

“Yeah?”“Absolutely.”

She carefully undoes the paper then, noticing how meticulously he’s wrapped the package, before sliding the box out and undoing the tab. She laughs when she sees the soft gray t-shirt, inside, pulling it up and holding it out. This is why he asked her the size of her shirt. How could she be so stupid so as not to think about it?

“You know, I like that shirt, darling. I used to have one just like it, but it seems to have disappeared.”

She hums, closing her eyes and contemplating her next words. When she says them, she means them and all of their implications, the buildup of the last few months finally reaching its peak. “I have one upstairs if you’d like to borrow it.”

Killian’s eyebrows practically disappear into his hairline, and he takes a step closer to her, the scent of his cologne mixed with beer invading her nostrils. “I think I’d like that.”

The walk upstairs is full of anticipation, the air between them incredibly thick despite the amount of space that’s separating them. Killian is keeping his distance, staying a few stairs behind her, but when they get to her door, he cages her in, pushing her into the wood and grabbing her hips while he presses gentle, hesitant kisses up and down her neck that make her head dizzy.

“You are a bloody marvel.”

The words she wants to say are caught in her throat as he nibbles on her earlobe, soothing every bite with his tongue, so instead of talking she turns in his arms and captures his lips with hers. It’s exactly the same as the first time, his body and lips warm as they press into her and his hair just as soft while her fingers sink into the locks, holding him as close as possible. But this isn’t Jones, her one night stand who she’s about to use as a way to scratch an itch. This is Killian, a friend, a confidant, and maybe something a little more that doesn’t quite sound like the Golden Girls theme song.

“Emma,” he breathes, his voice husky and deep, “is this going to be a one-time thing again? Because…because I can’t. I can’t be nothing to you.”“I know. And it’s not. You’re not.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she sighs, letting this moment sink in, “it’s just…I’m not sure if I’m ready for everything yet. I think maybe we should take it bit by bit. Naturally. I’m not good with trying to live up to expectations.”

“I’m not either.”

He kisses her again, soft and sweet and full of all of the affection that she’s been feeling for him lately. He makes her head dizzy with the way his tongue traces her bottom lip, her spine tingling with the sensations, and when he licks into her mouth, she’s glad for the door supporting her back.

“Do you want to…do you want to go inside?”

“Aye,” he growls against her jaw, “I was promised a t-shirt.”

Everything is different than the first time they were together. Things are slower, softer, but they’re somehow more passionate. Yeah, things are a bit awkward, bodies hitting hard surfaces and knees and elbows stabbing soft body parts while trying to maneuver into good positions, but once they’re situated, Killian slides into her in one slow motion, and she feels absolutely everything. As he moves above her, making sure that his lips never leave her lips, her skin, her hair, she gets lost in the moment, forgetting everything that’s led to them being here and just being glad that they are here.

After, they’re wrapped under the covers of her bed, her feet tucked between his calves while his hands roam across her skin, somehow always finding their way back to her hair and twisting with the strands. He’s so gentle and kind, things she never would have thought in the beginning, and she’s really glad that the town of Storybrooke somehow had a way of pushing them back together.

“So,” she sighs, scooting a little closer to him in the bed and wrapping her arms around his neck, “what do we do from here?”

“Well,” Killian begins, leaning forward and brushing his lips over her bare shoulder, “I think we do that a hell of a lot more.”

“Obviously yes.”

“But I also think that you let me take you out on a date or fifty.”

“Fifty? You’re shooting high there.”

He chuckles against her skin before kissing her, the softest of pecks that she barely feels. “Well, we start with one. I let you see how absolutely charming I am, and then we work our way into having fifty first dates.”

“Are you referencing the Adam Sandler rom com?”

“Absolutely. Don’t you know that Mr. Sandler is the peak romantic comedy lead?”

She barks out a laugh, something that she feels in her chest and the rest of her body, and she honestly just feels light, happy even. “I thought that was Tom Hanks.”

“Well, darling,” Killian purrs, pushing her over and crawling over her body so that he’s caging her in, “I’ll have you know that Hanks and Sandler have nothing on me.”

They don’t. Killian Jones far outdoes Hanks and Sandler and any other romantic comedy lead (take that Gosling) when it comes to romancing her. It’s not always easy, and she’s definitely not easy to love, but Killian doesn’t seem to care. He takes her on the first date, and if she’s honest with herself, that date never really ends. It goes on forever, and she likes it that way.

She likes them together. Okay, she loves them together after a couple of months, and at the end of every day, she comes home to an apartment that’s full of their things together with two gray v-neck t-shirts hanging in the closet.

And Mary Margaret absolutely does not get the credit for setting them up.

#cs ff #cs fic #cs prompt

[mikauzoran]

Adrienette Drabble Fifteen: Judge

Gabriel snapped something about sartorial trends in Italian that Adrien didn’t quite understand. He had heard his father rant heatedly about fashion in Italian often enough to the point where Adrien himself was able to thoroughly insult designers, models, lighting specialists, the sound people, the critics reviewing a show, and the owner of the venue, but the comment Gabriel had just made was more subtle; thus, it went completely over Adrien’s head.

“Maybe I should learn how to say something useful in Italian like, ‘Where is the train station?’ or ‘Does this have meat in it?’,” Adrien thought as he watched the Seine fly by outside the car window.

Gabriel put his line back on mute and sighed, “This call is a waste of time. The idiot has no conception of the direction current trends are pointing for next season. Why, just the other day, I was speaking with a few of our new interns, and Ma—aa…”

Gabriel stopped dead, slowly turning to scrutinize the damage he had done.

Adrien smiled sadly. “Go on. What did Marinette say?”

Gabriel gulped. “…Neoclassicism is making another comeback. And she’s absolutely right.”

Gabriel cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. Are you okay? Are you going to be okay going to school today? Are you going to be okay seeing her? Am I pushing you too hard? We don’t have to do this.”

Adrien chewed on his lip thoughtfully. “I don’t know. There’s only one period left today, so…I’m sure I can tough it out for one period. As for Marinette…”

He covered his face with his hands. “God, I want to see her. I want to see her more than anything. Is that masochistic?”

Plagg sighed, poking his head out of Adrien’s shirt collar. “A little bit, Kid.”

Adrien blew out a long sigh, his hand trailing down his face to rub at his neck.

“I’m pathetic, aren’t I?” Adrien mumbled.

“Not pathetic,” Gabriel assured. “Just pitiable.”

“I can live with ‘pitiable’,” Adrien decided, distractedly tracing the bruises with a finger.

Gabriel’s lips pressed together in a thin line. “It won’t be like this for much longer. Things are going to get better.”

“I hope so,” Adrien mumbled, leaning his head to rest against the windowpane.

“Did Nathalie tell you we were able to schedule you to see a counselor at six this evening?” Gabriel inquired.

Adrien’s head whipped around, and he stared incredulously at his father. “What? Really? So soon? I thought we’d have to sit around on a waiting list for a few months or something.”

Gabriel shook his head gravely. “We didn’t really have time to be waitlisted. Measures might have been taken to circumvent the waiting list.”

Adrien’s expression slowly morphed into a frown. “What did you do? Do I want to know?”

“Let’s just say,” Gabriel sighed. “They’ll soon begin construction on the Emilie Agreste Memorial Mental Health Wing thanks to our generous donation.”

Adrien pursed his lips. “Part of me feels bad for cutting in line, but there’s also a part of me that reasons that they’ll be able to help more people with a new, updated wing.”

Gabriel shrugged. “I’m not concerned with being a good person. I’m concerned with being your father.”

“Mother would be pleased to have something named after her.” Adrien smiled nostalgically and began to giggle. “She would probably make some snide remark about giving her name to a psych ward.”

Gabriel began to laugh even as his heart throbbed. “Yes, she would, wouldn’t she? Emilie always had something snarky and irreverent to say.”

“…Dad?”

“Hm?” Gabriel was still getting used to the new moniker.

Adrien smiled with green eyes full of gratitude. “Thank you so much. You’ve been so great the past two and a half weeks, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. I’d be absolutely lost right now without your support…. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you when you said things were going to change.”

Gabriel reached out to run a hand through Adrien’s hair. “I’d given you no reason to believe me.”

“Thank you for today,” Adrien whispered. “I know you think psychologists are quacks, so it means a lot to me that you’ve gone to so much trouble.”

“I am willing to do anything you think we need to do to get you better, Adrien, regardless of my personal beliefs. At this point, I hope that I’ve been wrong this whole time and she’s actually able to help you,” Gabriel confessed.

Adrien nodded. “Yeah. Me too…but still. Thank you, Dad.”

Gabriel shrugged. “All I did was throw money at the problem like usual. This was a team effort. Nathalie spent all day finding a doctor and making the phone calls, and Plagg covered Nathalie’s desk while she was doing that, so…”

Adrien awkwardly tried to look down his shirt at the kwami. “Really, Plagg?”

Plagg floated out to shrug, landing on Gabriel’s shoulder. “I mean, you were out cold, so it’s not like you needed strict supervision. It wasn’t so hard to answer the phone and play around on the computer between poking my head in to check on you.” Plagg cleared his throat and recited, “‘Gabriel Enterprises. You’ve reached the desk of Nathalie Sancoeur. This is her assistant Plagg. How may I help you?’ And then you just have to tell them what day you need what where. Nathalie made me a cheat sheet. It wasn’t too hard since Nathalie has everything so organized.”

“Wow, Plagg,” Adrien snickered. “I didn’t think you had it in you to be useful.”

“I surprised myself,” Plagg admitted.

“He’s actually a very skilled resource manager,” Gabriel praised. “He reworked our invoice system.”

Adrien’s eyes widened in surprise.

Plagg shrugged. “I had a kitten who was an accountant for a law firm back in the late eighteen-hundreds. The principles are the same. I just had to learn how to work the computer, but I’ve seen you do that plenty of times, Kid.”

Adrien nodded dumbly as they pulled up to the school and the car stopped.

Gabriel looked at the building and then at Adrien with a dubious expression. “You’re sure you’re okay to do this?”

Adrien shrugged. “I’m at least going to try. I’ve got this. I mean, I get pummeled by akuma thrice a week, so how bad can this be?”

Gabriel winced, thinking, “Not anymore, you don’t.”

Gabriel leaned in to press a kiss to Adrien’s forehead. “Have a good day…. I’m proud of you.”

With a genuine smile, Adrien stepped out of the car and made his way into the school.

He snuck into Madame Mendeleiev’s Calculus class through the back door, hoping to escape notice by sitting at the back of the room, but Mendeleiev herself foiled his plan.

“Monsieur Agreste, so nice of you to join us,” she remarked sarcastically.

Nearly the whole class turned to stare at him.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Madame,” Adrien replied, head down, refusing to look at anyone so as not to witness their reactions to seeing him.

Apparently, the akumatization sensitivity training the teachers had to take had not made an impression on Madame Mendeleiev.

Adrien could feel his cheeks burning as he buried his eyes in the textbook and tried not to fuss with the scarf covering up the marks on his neck.

His classmates started whispering, and as much as Adrien actively tried not to hear, Chat Noir’s heightened senses affected him residually even outside of the mask.

“Wow. He looks like crap.” Juleka.

“Did you see the pictures online of him crying at the park Saturday?” Max.

“Look at that scarf. No points for guessing what that’s covering up.” Alix.

“Someone saw some action. Maybe he was so bad she broke up with him.” Kim.

“Serves him right for the way he’s been treating Marinette.” Mylène.

“Has your brother said anything yet?” Rose.

“How is he? How does he look? Does he look okay?” Marinette. Marinette obviously unable to look at him herself and asking Alya to do reconnaissance.

Adrien heard Alya draw in a sharp breath. “He’s…fine,” Alya lied.

Marinette sighed. He could almost see her rolling her eyes. “Alya?”

Alya blew out a weary breath. “Honestly? I think you wrecked him. If anyone was ever being held together by rubber bands, it would be him.”

“Oh,” Marinette replied in a barely-there whisper. “G-Great. Thanks.”

God, he hoped she didn’t look at him. He hadn’t thought he’d looked that bad, but, apparently, the situation was dire, and he didn’t want her to see him like that.

Tomorrow he’d put on more makeup. He would smile so hard and look everyone in the eye and stand up straight and be the Adrien Agreste that everyone saw on billboards. Tomorrow he would fake it so well that no one would suspect a thing.

But in that moment, he felt like a wounded seal watching the sharks circling round. He was not the Adrien Agreste on the perfume bottle. He was just that dorky loser Adrien whose life was currently rimming the drain.

He sank lower in his seat, hunching his shoulders to hide his face. He kept his head down until Madame Mendeleiev called for order and resumed the lesson.

He considered sneaking back out of class and heading to the nurse’s office until all the other students had left for the day. He’d been wrong. Battling akuma might be physically challenging and painful, but that was nothing compared to the mental anguish of sitting in that classroom, feeling like a freak show and having everyone whisper about him.

“Don’t stop breathing on me, Kid,” Plagg whispered. “Come on. In and out.”

Adrien took a shallow inhale. It was all his lungs could handle.

“Hey. No hyperventilating,” Plagg chided, concern softening his voice. “Kid, this was a bad idea. Let’s go home,” he suggested.

But Adrien couldn’t move. He was too afraid to get up and leave, knowing it would draw even more attention to himself. He was afraid to run away and show them how scared he was of them and what they would think and what they would whisper behind his back. He was too terrified to move, to flee and let them know they had beaten him.

He was afraid of what Marinette would think. He had to convince her he was emotionally stable. He had to prove that he was the kind of guy that she would want to get involved with. Running out of class crying would not accomplish those goals, so Adrien stayed and focused on not letting anyone see what a disaster he was.

After a few minutes, he tentatively peeked up at Marinette. Or, at least, the back of her head. Her hair was up in a bun, and she was wearing a black lace choker she had made out of some of the fabric scraps he had once given her.

Adrien lightly touched the bruises she’d left on his neck and thought that it was nice that she had a gift from him around her neck too.

 The bell had barely rung when Adrien bolted from his seat, hoping to get to his locker and get out before anyone could look at him or say anything.

His plan failed. 

He couldn’t remember his locker combination. The information was just gone. He tried several strings of numbers that seemed to have some potential, but none of them worked. It could have been the fact that his hands were shaking so badly, he wasn’t certain he’d entered the numbers he was intending to in the first place.

“Breathe, Kid,” Plagg reminded, phasing down Adrien’s arm and through the locker to pop the door open.

“Thank you,” Adrien mumbled meekly, feeling the edge come off his panic.

Until someone yanked his scarf off from behind.

“Hey, Agreste.”

Adrien spun to find Kim looming over him with a predatory smirk. “Wow! It looks like someone really mauled you. What happened?”

“Kim, could you please give me my scarf back?” Adrien reached for it, but Kim pulled it away, balling it up and holding it over Adrien’s head.

Adrien was five-nine in shoes while Kim had reached six foot three, and those few inches made all the difference.

“Make me,” Kim snickered.

Adrien stood on his tiptoes to no avail. “Please, Kim?”

“Nope,” Kim rejected the request gleefully. “You know, I don’t know what Marie ever saw in you. She’s so over you, by the way,” Kim added savagely.

“W-What?” Adrien blinked stupidly, hands dropping to his sides. “Marinette…is…?”

Kim shoved Adrien back into his locker door.

Adrien caught himself on one of the shelves inside the open locker and looked up wide-eyed at Kim as the other boy growled, “You bastard! Marie! Marie, that girl that you dated. Marie who was head over heels in love with you, you self-absorbed prick! You should be shot,” Kim spat, looking down at Adrien in disgust. “Guys like you should be taken out back and shot. I hope whoever gave you that hickey makes you suffer. I hope she toys with your heart like you did Marie’s.”

Adrien didn’t even have the presence of mind to flinch when Kim drew back his foot to kick Adrien.

Thankfully, the blow never landed.

“Back the hell off, Kim,” Marinette snapped, charging Kim like a rhino and shoving him away from Adrien while Kim was off balance.

“The hell, Marinette?!” Kim snapped.

Marinette stomped her foot, putting herself between Kim and Adrien. “You heard me: Back off,” she repeated, an eerie calm in her voice that spoke of someone who was master of the situation. “You mess with him, you deal with me.”

Kim shifted uncomfortably under Marinette’s intense glare. Upon brief consideration, Kim put his hands up, unwilling to go up against Marinette. He tossed the scarf at Adrien’s feet as he walked away, muttering under his breath.

The rest of the locker room went back about its business once the show had ended, but Marinette and Adrien remained motionless. He stared as she took a deep breath and forced her muscles, her jaw, her fists to unclench.

She didn’t turn to face him, and he was glad of it because he was positive that he looked pathetic. That he was pathetic. And she was just so cool and brave and wonderful.

Had she hurt him? Yes. Would he let her hurt him again? Gladly. Over and over and over if only that pain could be interspersed with happiness like she had made him feel when she’d smiled at him, called him Chaton, returned one of his puns with a pun of her own, kissed him…

She had told him not to speak to her. He wondered how strictly she’d enforce that rule.

“Thank you,” he ventured in a small, timid voice.

She visibly deflated.

He almost apologized, but she spoke first, “I will always have your back. No matter what.”

Without another word or a glance behind, she walked away.

But her words, that simple promise, meant the world to him. He shut the locker door and fled before anything else could happen to kill the hope inside of him.

#Adrienette #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Marinette Dupain-Cheng/Adrien Agreste #Adrien Agreste #Gabriel Agreste #Plagg #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Mikau's Writings #There's a Daisy

[hellholland]

A Queen and Her King || Tom Holland x Reader [Part 1][Gang/Assassin AU]

IMPORTANT NOTE: This is my very first action AU, so I apologize for things that seem oddly unrealistic in the crime world. I obviously don’t know much about it. If you have tips or feedback, please message/ask me about it! I created the idea for this fic through a song called Natalie by Bruno Mars, but I also want to credit @hollandroos​ for her fanfiction, Blow A Kiss, Fire A Gun. It was the very first Mob!Tom fanfiction I read (The first AU like that I’d ever read, actually.) and it still inspires me as I hope to continue this series. I hope for this to get better as it goes along. Just so you have the basic knowledge, this is kind of like a Mobster!AU meets Assassin!AU and a lot of wild crossover shit. 

TRIGGER WARNING: Violence, language, guns, knives, suggestive sexual actions, mentions of pedophilia (It’s not any more graphic, it might even be less, than basic horror movies you might’ve seen. The description is mostly about action, not in depth detail of what it looks like. It’s an assassin/gang/mafia AU, so it’s kind of fucked up anyway.)

DISCLAIMER: This story contains content that I am just writing for the sake of the story. I do not condone/support it. Your “character” as the reader, may also do things you personally would not do. Please don’t read if you can’t handle that. THIS DOES NOT ACCURATELY REPRESENT TOM, HIS MORALS OR ANYONE HE’S ASSOCIATED WITH. I’M MERELY USING HIS IMAGE AND A NAME TO CREATE THIS STORY. PLEASE DO NOT EVER TAKE THIS AS AN ACCURATE PORTRAYAL OF TOM. (This is more of a movie in my head, and a character Tom is playing)

I have trigger warnings at the scenes that should need them. Please let me know if there are other subjects that need warnings!

Prologue

As three shrill beeps replaced dialing noises, Tom’s anger skyrocketed. He began to pace and repeatedly clench his fists at an attempt to hold back everything he was feeling. 

 “We’re sorry, you’ve reached a number that is either disconnected or no longer linke-“ Tom spun around and threw the phone, sending it flying into his bedroom wall and crashing to the floor. “Goddamnit!” He sat down on the corner of his bed, staring out through the wall-to-wall glass pane that separated him from the rest of the world. The skyline was a vibrant dark blue, turning to purple and black. 

 Every  dollar in his safe he’d worked his ass off to get was gone. There was no trace, no logical reasoning as to how it got stolen. That safe was one of the most protected vaults in the world.

 Natalie, or Natalia as Tom used to call her endearingly, was gone too. 

Disappeared. No word, no warning. 

 Not only had she cheated on him, she robbed him.

 “Tom, what do you want to do to respond?” His best friend and co-leader Harrison asked, frustration clear in his voice.

 “I don’t fucking know. Nothing yet, we’re too vulnerable. We’ll...need alliances.”

 She took his heart out of his chest and walked all over it, puncturing it with her stiletto heels.

 He found out everything she’d done after she left. Of course the man was riddled with sadness and hurt, but the only feeling he let control him was anger.  

He couldn’t be weak. Not now, not ever. 

 After willingly letting her in and finally bringing his guard down, she wrecked him. You know what everyone says? That Natalie Rose Giovanni can never be overthrown. She’s notorious for the lives she takes and everything in between. That she’s untouchable. But in the end, the greatest revenge is going out and accomplishing what is said to be impossible. And that is exactly what he would do.

 This was personal now.

 Natalie, Europe’s top drug queenpin with a terrifying hidden past, versus Thomas Stanley Holland, the most notorious mafia leader in almost every corner of the northern eastern hemisphere. 

 She took everything he had, even some of his very best men.

 His team.

 His power. 

 His reputation. 

 His empire. 

Soon enough, he was going to take every single bit of it back, even if it meant ruining her fucking life. 

 Even if it meant killing her.          

One

“Hang on,” you giggle softly, looking up at the man in front of you. “Why don’t we go back to your room?” 

 His hands had made their way under your thighs and he had you up against a wall, giving him easy access to touch your body. “We’re not exactly in the most private area of the hotel.”

 “If it gets that dress off you, then that’s fine by me,” he replies, kissing down your neck.

 “Eugene!” You push his hands down and stand straight up, smiling coyly at the millionaire while listening for any instructions in your earpiece.

 “You’re doing good. Get the card to his room and be quick with this, (Y/N). This operation has some complications.” 

 “I’m just telling you how I really feel, Allison.” Of all the names Felix could pick for an undercover op, why choose such a plain one? 

 You slip your hand into his pocket, pulling out the key card and tucking it into your bra, all without breaking eye contact with him. “I’ll meet you there in ten,” you whisper in his ear, running a finger down his chest as you walked away.

 “Fucking pig,” you mutter to the man behind the earpiece, making quick time to the elevator.

“Right?” The man in question is Felix Sternberg, (Known as Judas by his “enemies”) one of the most elite proxy murder directors in the world, or at least the most famous among federal government organizations and operations that do things not commonly associated with the human moral code. (Murder, drug dealing, etc.) He’s one of your newest co-workers. The brains behind your newest weapons, technology and escapes. It’s possible that without him, you would’ve been in a supermax prison by now. 

The most intensely protected in the U.S filled with the worst kind of people imaginable.

 People like you.

 “What’s his deal again?” You ask, shaking your head away from the doubting thoughts that often plagued you. 

“Rape, robbery, embezzling, pedophilia, the usual.” Felix says nonchalantly.

 “God, I cannot wait to shower tonight, that’s disgusting...” 

 “You’re also technically a contract murderer for a living, so I don’t know if you’re one to judge, (Y/N).”

“But I’ve never done shit to kids or forced myself on a person. I only kill people who deserve it.” 

“That last part is debatable, but we’re moving on. Wait for the bellboy in the elevator to leave before going up.”

“Sounds good.” 

The red silk dress draped on your body was apart of the job, a request made by the contract. The person who hired you was actually his wife, Valerie Pence. She wasn’t much better than him when it came to money, but once she found out what he’d done, the decision was easy. There also might’ve been infidelity involved in her reasoning.

She’d informed you that the best way to get to him was probably seduction and that his favorite color was red. The combination of the two would make it easy to get him alone. She took you shopping for the dress herself, an odd way of saying thank you (other than money) for the favor. When you stepped out of the changing room to show her, she simply smiled, but her watering eyes displayed a different emotion.

“You look stunning. This’ll work.” You wonder what her thought process was with hiring you, how their relationship came to be and everything in between. Getting personally involved with clients was a beginner’s mistake, but in some cases it was incredibly hard not to even think about what happened between some duos.

“He’s gone, move fast.” Felix interrupts your recollection, snapping you back to your work.

Eventually, you end up in his room, only stopping for a minute to marvel at the lavish decor and to peek around. White silk sheets dressed the king sized bed, complimenting the other colors in the room. Dark reds, black and grey all combined to give the room a sensual and eerie feeling.

Eugene appears soon after, hastily moving toward you, lust in his eyes. “Hang on, let me just go get something ready okay?” You stopped him, one hand steady on his waist the other over his shoulder.

 “Alright...”

“I want you to wear this, though.” You found some questionable fabric, presumably left behind the last hotel-goer, and started to tie it around his eyes as a blindfold. “Now lay here,” you pushed him down on the bed, a little too roughly, but he didn’t question any of it. 

You enter the bathroom swiftly, the door clicking behind you. 

“Felix, where’s my stuff?” You whisper. 

“Underneath the sink. There’s a silenced pistol. The bag has a change of clothes in it and some sunglasses. Put your hair up, too. I have someone ready to tamper with the security footage, but just in case I want you to try and be very discreet and exit through the fire escape. No one should see since you’re on the back of the building. Your ride will be waiting to take you home.”

“Thanks.” You grab the bag and begin to undress, leaving only your satin gloves on. This replaced the fancy dress and heels with what you could only describe as an outfit straight off if 2015 grunge tumblr, doc martens and all. 

Not the worst, but not the best outfit choice.

“I have one more...treat for you you, Mr. Pence.” You call out through the door, smirking to yourself. 4 sets of handcuffed glistened in the bag, and a gag. 

“Thanks for leaving them in there Felix. Did you put her fingerprints on them?” 

“You’re sadistic, but yes. The police and FBI will likely arrest Kathryn and any of her employees. I planted stuff to lead them to the kids. You’re in the clear but you need to get a move on, even if that includes speeding up your ‘process’.”

Kathryn Moseby, a “friend” of the millionaire. She holds a position in congress. She’s also the ringleader of a pedophilic sex trafficking ring. 

“Like I said, he deserves my ‘process’. They all do. I’m doing the world a favor right now.”

“Whatever you say.” 

 You sigh, plucking the bag off the ground and walking back to the bedroom. “I hope you like your girls dominant, Eugene.” You quickly click the handcuff onto his hand and to the bed frame before he could even respond. His breathing started to become uneasy, but he nodded. 

 “It’s new...but I’ll try.” 

“You don’t have a choice.” You whisper, clicking the second handcuff shut. The other two might’ve been too loose, but they’d restrain him. “Final touches,” you smile, climbing into the bed and almost straddling him. He seems taken aback as you jerk the gag tightly to make sure it stays on. “We don’t want anyone to hear us, now do we?” He shakes his head nervously in response.

 As an extra precaution, you switch on the TV to a music station, turning the volume up just enough to mask loud conversations. “Alright Eugene. Let’s begin.” You pick up the pistol and a small knife, crawling on the bed.

You run your fingers along his chin, feeling less gross about touching him because of the fabric between you two.

“I fawt yoo changfed?” He tries to ask in reaction to feeling the gloves, barely audible or intelligible.

“Oh, I did.” You giggle, removing his mask.

[TW: Violence]

He’s shocked, confused, and now scared. His eyes take in your figure and then the gun in your hand. He starts to panic.

“You didn’t think I was gonna let you off easy, did you?” The knife from earlier now glints menacingly in the soft lighting. “I don’t normally do it this slowly, but you’re a special kind of messed up. We’re all fucked up, especially me, but you, you’re a rapist and a pedophile. A cheater. Kind of the scum of the earth.”

He still wasn’t processing his situation entirely, but his chest was rising and falling rapidly. 

He wasn’t screaming. 

He wasn’t begging.

 Yet. 

You jabbed the knife directly above his knee. Angling it towards the bone. This time, his entire body jerked and he started to yell, but the music drowned out his shouts.

“That was for every child and person you’ve ever touched.” You pulled it out, watching the tears stream from his eyes, then ripped past the buttons on his suit shirt. “And this is for Valerie.” 

You slowly carve the knife into his skin, toward the right side of his stomach. It was a number that you carved. 334. 

“I wonder who my 335th will be?” 

“Hey (Y/N), as much as I enjoy tuning your weird shit out and waiting for you, you need to be fast. Like now. We’re cutting our time too close.” 

“I got it.” You frown sarcastically at the pathetic, convulsing man beneath you. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I have to go.” You pull the knife away, wiping the blood off with your gloves. 

The red contrasts the starch white in a disgustingly satisfying way. You stand up, brandishing the pistol excitedly. His screams are becoming increasingly louder, and more annoying. 

Watching him writhe in pain and desperation filled you with a twisted sense of pride. You keep telling yourself that he deserves it to justify your actions, but there’s still that one ounce of innocence in you that rejects those thoughts. 

Then you remember Valerie’s voice on the other end of the phone when she called, tearfully begging for help. She sounded desperate and sad, not angry.

She just wanted him gone. 

Had she tried to divorce him, she might’ve been endangered. If she turned him in for his crimes, he’d send people after her. 

That’s all you need to get the job done.

“I’ll see you in hell.”

Bang.

Please leave feedback! I will gladly accept civil/kind worded constructive criticism. -Ciel

#tomhollandfanfiction #tomhollandxreadersmut #tomhollandxreader #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader smut #tom holland mobster #tom holland mob au #peter parker x reader #Mob!Tom #mob!tom smut #assassinau #gangau #mobau #spiderman x reader #spiderman x reader fluff #spiderman x reader smut #marvel fanfiction #marvel #sebastian stan x reader #harrison osterfield #tom holland #tom holland imagine #harrison osterfeild x reader #like4like #Smut #fluff #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #tony stark x reader

[farfanfiction]

Loyalty to the Pack: Part 3

Pairing: John Seed x Joseph Seed x Reader x Jacob Seed

AUs: Omegaverse, werewolves

Warnings: Cursing, angst, little bit of fluff, mentions of cheating (kinda), mentions of depression and anxiety, big fucking self-hate warning, mentions of sex, mentions of blood, mentions of suicidal thoughts

Word Count: 4,046

A/N: Thank you guys for getting me past 10 followers! I’m very, very grateful to each and every one of you! For all of you who have read Far Cry: Absolution (highly recommended), Holly isn’t an utter bitch in the book like she’s portrayed here, this is mainly because I needed a character everyone can absolutely despise. And also for competition of sorts. I just wanna admit something. This series is very special to me, it’s my best series by far and it’s inspired by my life in some way. The self-hate, depression, and anxiety are deprived from my real-world experiences, and writing and playing video games, in general, help me release all those emotions. The message this story is trying to get across is, no matter what, do what makes you happy. No one is in charge of what you are or how you're gonna live your life, you decide that. Give me some feedback on what I could do better or what I did alright, where you wanna see this whole mess go, or something you just don’t understand. The gif is not mine. 

Masterpost   My Omegaverse Rules

   You gave him a look as he finished his little speech. You wish he wasn't serious, but this was John you were talking about. Even though he said it in a joking manner, he wasn’t joking. His rules were all too real and demanding. He simply smirked at your frustration. You knew you had to calm down, he just enjoyed your reactions. You denied him this simple pleasure by gripping your wrinkled dress and tried to muster up a friendly smile.

   “Since we’re both on the same level, why don’t we get you settled.” He stated, reaching into the back pocket of his dark jeans. He pulled out a small, black radio and talked into it in a low voice. Quiet enough so you wouldn’t hear.

   With a silent mumble, you turned to the side and whispered, “I’ll get you fucking settled.” You scrunch your nose in disapproval when the Alpha heard you. Putting his large hand on the speaker and leaning over to look at you with his menacing blue eyes.

   “What was that Omega?” he crooned in a sickly sweet voice. He knew exactly what you said. He was just trying to test his control over you, well not today buddy. You turned around and said nothing. He simply stared you down and then went back to his conversation on the radio. The person on the other side seemed pissed. Clearly yelling, but not loud enough for you to hear it.

   After a few more minutes of yelling between the Alpha and the person on the other line, the garage door swung open. A young woman with long brown hair stepped into the fluorescent lights. Her scent immediately hit you. Beta. She was a Beta with a scent as boring as any other Beta in Eden’s Gate. Omegas and Alpha usually smelled exciting, but Betas barely had a scent. This Beta had that scent, yes, but she had an undertone of something strictly Omega. It didn’t feel like a natural smell, more artificial than anything. This woman was definitely trying to be something she wasn’t.

   She gave a wink John a wink when she noticed him. Then proceeding to saunter over to him, her tight fitting dress swaying with each step. It was as if you weren’t there at all.

   He gave her a small smirk, different than the one he gives you. More lustful than anything else. His bright blue eyes were full of want for this Beta. Something that shouldn’t occur to werewolves unless there wasn’t enough Omegas around. There was something definitely going on here.

   “This is Holly. She’ll show you around the Ranch.” He stated, not turning his attention to you. He continued to stare at ‘Holly’. You turned to look at her, a look of distaste on your face. Your (e/c) eyes showing pure and utter hate for this Beta even though you just met her three minutes ago.

   You walked to the door and waited for her to come. She blew John a small kiss and John just smiled. Pure happiness coating his face. He combed his brown hair back and watched as Holly finally led you out of the garage. She didn’t look back at you as she walked like she wanted to forget that you were even there. You guess in some way, you couldn’t blame the Beta. Her and John clearly had something going on between them. Far more than a short fling. 

   She said nothing as she led you into the main house. It was as big as the outside. Antler chandeliers hung from the ceiling and animal furs and statues decorated the floors and walls. The furniture looked rather expensive with its shiny leather finish. Come to think of it, everything looked expensive. What made the Ranch appear as if it was apart of Eden’s Gate was not only the ridiculous amount of heavily armed guards outside but the Book of Joseph displayed on a nearby shelf with the ability to be viewed from almost every angle. Its pristine white and gold cover shinned in the sunlight. as if it was from Heaven itself.

   This was true, God did command Joseph to write the book. So, it did come directly from Heaven in a way. You believed in this, in Joseph, in God. The only two things you really believed in at the moment. The Father buried these beliefs in your heart and made it so the only thing you knew about was the Father, God, and the Great Collapse. Even if you wanted to believe in anything else, you couldn’t.

   The book itself drew you in as if by some kind of force. You reached up onto the shelf and grabbed the book with delicate hands. The very feel sending shivers down your spine and settling in your very bones. It felt smooth under your fingertips as you traced the cross of the church. Its shape like a burst of golden light. The light of a true prophet.

   When you put down the book, you notice a picture frame next to it. It held a photo of the Seed brothers, younger looking then they do now. John stood to one side of Joseph. His brown hair was wild and untamed as it fell over his blown pupils. He wore a droopy smile on his face as he stared at the camera. What made him look odd was the fact the Alpha was wearing an expensive looking suit, pristinely clean and ironed and his beard was completely gone.

   Joseph stood next to him, his brown hair falling onto his shoulders. His beard was long and messy, clearly needing a trim. His clothes were battered and worn, unlike his typical attire. Despite all that, he still wore a soft smile on his face and his deep blue smiled along with him.

   Jacob was the worst looking out of all of them. His hair and beard were an absolute mess. Clumps of red were tangled so much it didn’t even look like hair. His clothes were worse than Joseph’s. All bloody and utterly destroyed. But, just like his brothers, a small smile was present on his pale, blotchy red face.

   They all seemed so happy, despite looking so… so miserable. You had heard the stories of Joseph looking for his brothers...fuck, everyone apart of the pack knew the tale well. This was probably taken when they all found each other. The amount of happiness, joy, and love they must have felt that day seemed to be out of this world. A feeling that couldn’t possibly be yours with the situation you found yourself in.

   A loud cough interrupted your staring. You turned around to see the Beta looking at you with what you could only describe as a bitch face. Holly’s pretty face was scrunched up as she stared you down for wasting her precious time. “You know I don’t have to do this. John didn’t just ask me to help you, I did it out of the kindness of my heart. So, let’s not waste that kindness and leave.” She harshly whispered. You just hoped either God or John heard her. Maybe if you were lucky, both of them.

   ‘The kindness of her heart’ sounded forced. As if she was trying to score brownies points with John. To you, she was trying too hard. This Beta clearly had him wrapped around her little finger. He seemed desperate to please her and vice versa. You just hoped when you had your first heat, something John thought you already had, he wouldn’t deal with Holly. A wish that couldn’t possibly happen. If pups weren’t involved, why be tied down by an over emotional and needy Omega? Betas were a good enough fuck when you were in a rut.

   You simply nodded at her statement, not wanting to stir the pot more. She gave an annoyed sigh and led you to the stairs. You watched as she climbed the steps, the temptation of making her have an accident higher than it’s ever been in your life. Just being an Omega would restrain you from wanting to kill anything, but clearly, that half of you wanted that as much as the rest of you.

   You simply bit your lip in frustration and followed her onto the porch. You stopped for a minute and took in the view. The plants and flowers looked far better from up here, minus the men with guns walking around. Not wanting to be scolded again, you quickly got behind her. Holly soon stopped in front of a pair of large double-doors. She opened one door and practically pushed you inside. You let out a small howl and the faint smell of distressed Omega wafted off of you in light waves.

   To end this shitty tour, the Beta proceeded to slam the door, living you alone with your thoughts. You looked at your bedroom and gave a long, heavy sigh. It was small with a double bed, dresser, closet, and a couch. A small bookshelf was pushed into a corner as well, the only book on it was the Book of Joseph and a journal about werewolf behavior. Not a lot of thought and care went into this, just haphazardly put together. It was as if no one gave a damn, which was probably true.

   You flopped onto the bed with the haphazardly placed sheets and buried your head in a pillow. A whimper fell past your lips as you wished for your mother. Someone to at least comfort you as you made this hard transition. Soon the whimpers turned into sobs and sobs into full-blown wailing. Snot running down your (s/c) face and onto the white sheets. The salty tears mixed with the snot and you honestly didn’t care. The crying continued for hours. Your mind switching from one problem to the next until nothing was left but sadness and the want to leave. In a last attempt to clean up, you brought your white lace sleeves to your face and whipped away the snot and tears. There was no point in keeping it clean, it was going into the trash after this.

   You fell asleep soon after, dreaming of something far better than this. An Alpha that genuinely wanted to be mated to you, pups that could actually exist with a different person, and a whole new look on life if this one didn’t end up so shity.

   You woke up the next morning as miserable as the last. Not ready to get out of bed and join society as a fellow wolf and member of Eden’s Gate. You looked out the window, noting the sun slowly peeking its way above the horizon. Your stomach gave a small growl at the lack of food. You hadn’t eaten anything both from the nerves of getting baptized and the gut-wrenching news of being John’s Omega. There wasn’t much room for an appetite.

   Deciding to make breakfast for yourself and John, like the kind person you were, you got up and headed downstairs. This is where your lack of direction kicked in. That bitch Holly only showed you where your room was. So, finding the kitchen would take forever. You headed outside, still in your dirty dress and stopped a passing wolf. “Hey!” You called out to him. The Beta turned to look at you, confusion taking over his face. He gave you a look and then lifted a finger to point at himself.

   “M-me?” He called out, a slight stutter to his voice. You gave a nod and he trotted over. Tripping as he walked. This guy definitely wasn’t trained by Jacob.

   “Do you know where the kitchen is?” You asked, not missing a beat. He nodded and gently took hold of your smaller hand. He held it like glass as he walked you back inside the Ranch. The Beta led you to the double doors near the living room. He opened them and there appeared a large kitchen. Far larger than someone like Jonathan Seed needed.

   Without further hesitation, you got started on making the food. Making fresh squeezed orange juice, homemade pancakes and a side of fruit and sausages. You put it all on a little tray for him and headed upstairs, just hoping his office or bedroom was near yours. You wandered onto the balcony and peeked around every corner just to find this son of a bitch. Finally, you found it. The French doors kinda gave it away. You gave a small knock to the wood. Your anxiety now taking control. Your mind was asking you if this was a good idea, if he would actually appreciate it, or if he even wanted to look at your ugly mug.

   Your chest began to tighten and black spots filled your vision when John didn’t answer. Maybe he wasn’t in there? Was he out working? These questions began to combine inside your anxiety filled mind, making a cocktail of negative feelings and outlooks. You held your breath and you knocked again, a little harder this time. A muffled “come in,” sounded through the door and banging was heard before the French doors flew open.

John peeked his head out of the room and stared at the tray. His hair was a mess and sweat dripped down his forehead. It was as if he ran a mile, ragged breaths escaped him as he tried to get a word out. He looked down at the tray and frowned. “Thanks for the breakfast, but I already ate.” He licked his plump lips somewhat seductively as he stared back in the room. A figure flew behind him and onto his bed.

   “I would leave now. There’s nothing else for you to do for me.” He stated before polity slamming the door in your face. You gawked at the wood before pure anger took over. You whispered every curse in the book as you walked down the stairs and out the back door to the backyard. You walked to the edge of the yard and threw the tray out the side of the mountain hill. You waited for the sound of expensive china to shatter before you headed back in.

   Holly was definitely in there with him. Getting her grubby Beta hands on your Alpha! Wait, your Alpha? John hadn’t even mated you yet, he was still up for grabs. 

   This is probably how envy felt, a sin that felt so right, but so wrong. The feeling of jealousy was a strong one with its emotions and the want for what Holly had. Something she didn’t need.

   You muttered more curses as you walked to your room. You slammed the door, just praying its wood would splinter and John would have to pay to fix it. You flopped onto your bed and stared at the wood ceiling. 

   The untamed envy from before made its way back like a snake in the garden. Slithering through the tall grass before it strikes, bringing forth a wave of emotions, each more intense and painful than the last. Sadness and anxiety was the most potent. Making your chest heavier with each passing breath like it had moments before.

   John… He caused this. Made your anxiety worse with his cocky, yet sexy attitude. He mislead you into believing you were safe with him. That you were going to be an actual mate to him, come time for your first heat. If an Alpha wasn’t during that time, you would be either terribly injured or dead. Heats were painful, fall more painful without a mate.

   The pain in your chest got worse as you tried to suck in breath after breath. Each bone only giving a little oxygen. Tears dripped down your (s/c) face from the mere pain and sadness of not being with your Alpha. What scared you the most wasn’t the anxiety attack, but the fact that John was innocent in your eyes, no matter how much he hurt you in the past two days.

   The pain continued on for what seemed like forever. The scent of an Omega in pain wafted off you so much, it felt like it was dripping onto your skin and soaking your dress. For how long the attack went on, John didn’t show up. Probably too busy with Holly to care.

   You soon fell asleep, completely exhausted from your cry fest. You slept for so long, that it was about two in the morning when you woke up again. The sun was long gone and the number of armed guards was beginning to build back up for the tonight’s watch.

   You changed into a more comfortable outfit and whipped away any evidence of crying. You made your way downstairs to see John in the living room. Holly was nowhere in sight, thank the Father. “Well well, look who’s up finally awake,” John stated, not even looking in your direction. He was too busy buttoning his shirt to notice you. As he buttoned, you could clearly see fresh scratches running down his chest. Some of them dripped with a little bit of blood.

   Not wanting him to stain his shirt and hear his complaining, you walked to the kitchen and grabbed a towel, wetting it at the sink. You walked back and grabbed his hand before he could button it all the way. You began to dap his chest with the wet towel. It was firm and it seemed like he exercised with how much muscle was under his tan skin. He clearly looked like a twig that even you could snap when you first saw him

   The Alpha just looked at you as your Omega instincts took over, caring for a member of your pack. Even if he was a jackass. “I never expected for this kind of thing to happen with you. But don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining.” You gave him a glare but continued to tab at the blood. When he was clean, you threw the bloodied towel away and began to head upstairs.

   “Wait, (Y/N)...” You turned around, a surprised look on your face when he said your name. You didn’t even know John knew your name. Your family was made up of typical members of Eden’s Gate. Working under the Father, God, and the Heralds. Attending sermons and most importantly, preparing the bunkers for the Great Collapse. The Great Collapse was something that wasn’t taken lightly in the Project at Eden’s Gate. The people of Hope County said you were crazy but did Joseph care? No, of course not. It was him and his flock’s business when it came to surviving the end of the world as God has planned. They would be saved later.

   The only person who was expected to know everyone who was apart of the project was Joseph. To have John figure out your name was special in an awkward sort of way. “What?” You whispered. You turned to look at him, your (e/c) eyes heavy with dark circles.

   “Thank you.” You simply gave a nod and then proceeded to walk up the stairs. Wait, there was one last thing you needed to know. Where was he going?

   “Where are you going anyway?” Where would he even be going this late other than a sermon?

   “Joseph’s having a late night service for some… select children.” His was hesitant about the word children. He definitely knew something you didn’t and he was not going to tell anytime soon.

   “Ok…” The room became quiet when you had nothing else to see. You simply watched as John headed out the door to his garage. He then drove off, giving a wave as he went down the long driveway. You gave a wave from the window and headed back to bed, just praying everything was ok. 

   It wasn’t, everything was far from ok. There was a hefty amount of commotion coming from outside when you woke up. You walked to the window to see patrols coming in trucks, wave after wave of gun-toting men and women. Some even in wolf form, stalking the perimeter. They appeared to be looking for something or someone, whoever they were.

   The faint sound of heavy footsteps could be heard outside your door, getting louder as the person got closer. Suddenly, your door was thrown open and John ran in, out of breath.

   “The Father was almost arrested. The sinners are on the run, but I need you to stay here while I go find them by plane.” Wait, the Father was almost taken? That means everything was true. The Devil, Hell, a Whitehorse, and most importantly the Great Collapse. The Collapse has begun.

   “Wait, wait, Alpha don’t go.” John stopped at the word Alpha. You mentally slapped yourself from being so stupid. The Omega inside you was fearful for her Alpha, even though he wasn’t hers. He wasn’t yours. He can’t be, he had that Beta, Holly.

    He stepped towards you, his Alpha ready to comfort this Omega. He had an urge to protect his mate even if she wasn’t his yet. “Omega…” He breathed out, soft yet firm. To show you he was in charge of this situation. He gently grabbed your cheeks and leaned in. He touched his forehead with yours and there was an instant connection. You could feel his thoughts, his emotions as they raced through his head. One of them was so strong you could feel it swelling at the bottom of your gut. Fear. The great John Seed, the Baptist, the Inquisitor of Eden’s Gate, feared for his flock’s safety, his brothers’ safety, his sister’s and most importantly, yours. He feared for you, he actually liked you in some way.

   You two felt such comfort as you both shared your fears with each other. The Alpha slowly pulled away until your lips were just centimeters from each other. You slowly leaned in, not sure what you were doing. You barely knew this man for three days and you were already trying to kiss him. John flinched just a bit and pulled away. A squeezing sensation formed in your chest from the rejection.

   “Be safe, Omega,” John whispered, his blue eyes staring intensely into yours. Before you could say anything, he was gone and the faint sound of a plane engine filled the dark sky.

#Far Cry 5 #FC5 #joseph seed #john seed #jacob seed #reader #reader insert #faith seed #john seed x reader #joseph seed x reader #Jacob seed x reader #omegaverse #omega reader #omega faith seed #alpha jacob seed #alpha John Seed #alpha joseph seed #werewolves #werewolf jacob seed #werewolf john seed #werewolf joseph seed #werewolf faith seed #project at eden's gate #cursing #angst #mentions of cheating #mentions of depression and anxiety #self-hate #mentions of sex #mentions of blood

[anne-wentworth]

The prompt I’m talking about is that I can’t stop wondering how would the dynamic of the six of them be if Darvey had started a relationship after the other time. It’s up to you if she went back to work for him anyway but what if they hadn’t “lost” that decade denying their feelings? Can be angst but happy ending please! :)

Begin Again

A/N Okay so um…this is different than what you asked for and I’m so sorry especially because I did not fulfill the “what if they hadn’t lost that decade denying their feelings part” but I hope you still like it?? 

For the Japanese, who know so much and intuit more, human relations are predestined by a red string that the gods tie to the pinky fingers of those who find each other in life. Legend has it that the two people connected by this thread will have an important story, regardless of the time, place or circumstances. The red string might get tangled, contracted or stretched, as surely often happens, but it can never break.

Donna and Harvey met on a Wednesday night in a bar when the redhead cornered the young lawyer with a proposition. 

Fate had sat up, taking note because this was the moment she spent years waiting for. 

The new acquaintances took up residence in a little booth, secluded from the rest of the world with quick remarks and quiet laughter bouncing between them. In mere seconds, Harvey became smitten and Donna wasn’t very far behind. 

Unknown to both, the string that connected them appeared to glow a bit.

And even as Harvey claimed that he wouldn’t be staying at the DA’s office, to which Donna disagreed, a part of him had known that she was right. 

He would soon come to learn that she was always right about him.

On that night, a story began. 

It was the start of something new. 

Something beautiful.

Nothing would be the same after that. Because I’m Donna were the words that changed Harvey Specter’s life forever.

So Donna and Harvey began their dance that included her fixing his tie and having drinks together and of course, flirting whenever it was possible. Which was always.

And falling. 

Harvey knew he was in deep but from from the way he caught Donna looking at him he knew that she was right there with him. 

However, she had her rule. 

But then Harvey wasn’t working at the DA’s office anymore and it wasn’t a surprise that Donna was ready and waiting for him when he showed up at her door. 

Within minutes they collided, galaxies exploding in the night, a burst of stars and light and bliss. 

Harvey’s hands were in her hair and her nails scraped his back and before he knew it they were collapsing on her bed in a messy heap of giggles. Clothes were coming off and he was burning and she was perfect and his heart hammered in his chest because he never knew anything like this before.

This was it.

As Harvey memorized every inch of Donna’s body with his mouth he discovered that she tasted even sweeter than whipped cream. He didn’t think there was anything on this earth that could compare to her. 

And as his name fell from her lips like a prayer and a promise all in one he unraveled along with her, electricity sparking between them as they lit up the entire universe. 

Sunlight streamed in through the windows, matching the warmth that filled Harvey’s veins. He pulled Donna closer to him, burying his face in her shoulder. 

Suddenly she began to stir and rolled over to face him with eyes barely opened. 

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Hi,” she mumbled, voice filled with sleep. 

The corners of Harvey’s mouth automatically quirked up at her knotty hair and overall drowsy state.

She was not a morning person.

“I didn’t think you’d still be here,” she added.

Harvey’s stomach instantly plummeted.

“Did you…not want me to be here..?”

“No!” Donna’s eyes flew open. “I just thought you would leave. But I’m glad you didn’t.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he reassured, gently planting a kiss against her lips. 

A smile graced her features as she curled up against him, her head resting on his chest. His hand found its place at the small of her back, idly tracing patterns on her skin as a contented sigh escaped from her throat. 

This was everything.

“I’m going to work for Pearson Hardman,” he said, abruptly piercing the comfortable silence. 

Donna stared at him questioningly. 

“I want you to come with me.”

“Harvey-” she began, already sitting up and putting distance between them.

“I know. You don’t get involved with men that you work with,” he said quickly. “But I don’t want to know what kind of lawyer I’d be without you. And I don’t want to know what kind of man I’d be without you either.”

Her expression softened at his statement and he watched as she bit her lip in contemplation. He hoped with everything in him that she would say yes.

“Please.”

And it was that, one simple syllable that swayed her in the end.

“Okay,” she answered.

“Really?”

“Yes Harvey,” she said with a playful roll of her eyes. “I’ll come with you. Besides you need me.”

“I certainly do,” he grinned, pulling her to him as his mouth met hers. 

Donna laughed through the kiss and Harvey echoed the sound because this was what happiness felt like.

Somewhere along the way he had forgotten.

But Donna helped him to remember.

So they spent the morning with limbs tangled in the sheets, their string tangling as well, while they lost themselves in each other. 

No one else existed but them. 

The whole world was theirs.

But rules weren’t meant to be broken.

Harvey stepped into the cafe, desperately in need of caffeine. 

It was only midday but exhaustion was quickly overtaking him. His two meetings for the morning had completely drained him. Dickenson always drove him up a wall but he had to try to not be as much of an asshole considering he was Managing Partner now.

He had no idea how Jessica did it.

All of a sudden, he spotted a flash of red hair and all of the air was sucked from his lungs.

Donna.

She was sitting at a table in the corner of the room, staring into her cup of coffee and Harvey’s heart was in his goddamn hand.

It had been years since he last saw her.

They had tried to keep in touch after their breakup but eventually they fell apart. 

They always did.

Briefly, Harvey was transported back to a time where they ruled the goddamn city. 

They were the best closer and legal secretary in New York. 

Harvey and Donna.

The dynamic duo.

Kicking ass and taking names.

They were a force to be reckoned with, a hurricane and a cyclone leaving a wake of destruction in their paths.

They built a castle and sat atop the throne together.

He still wasn’t sure where they went wrong. He couldn’t remember the moment that it all started to collapse. 

One second they had everything and the next they had nothing. 

It was all a damn blur.

Just then, the woman in question looked up, meeting his eyes and breaking him out of his thoughts.

A look of surprise crossed her features as she stared at him. 

Harvey’s legs seemed to be on autopilot as he made his way towards her because he knew his brain wasn’t functioning well enough to instruct his body on what to do.

“Harvey,” she uttered quietly as he stopped in front of her table.

One word and he was breaking again.

“Donna,” he said, allowing himself the rare luxury of speaking her name. 

She gestured to the empty seat across from her and Harvey sat down.

Flashbacks of all the other times they sat just like this hit him like a tidal wave.

This used to be their place.

For him, it still was.

“Can’t believe you still come here,” she teased. 

“What can I say? I’m a creature of habit.”

He couldn’t tell her that she was the reason he still frequented this joint.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, brimming with curiosity.

“I’m back in the city,” she answered, fiddling with her hands on her lap. “For good.”

“How come?”

She took a deep breath, staring at a spot on the floor before finally meeting his gaze.

“I’m getting divorced.”

“Donna I’m so sorry.”

Harvey thought that he could handle anything. He thought he could stomach it all after watching the love of his life marry someone else and build a life without him all because he didn’t fight hard enough for her when he should have. 

But watching as Donna tried her hardest to keep it together damn near destroyed him. 

“It’s fine,” she said, running a hand through her hair. “I mean its not. He was cheating on me…”

“Shit.”

Harvey wanted to fly out to Jersey and beat the shit out of Mark himself. 

“Yeah,” she sighed before taking a sip of her drink. 

“How’s Ava doing?”

“She’s trying to be strong. For me,” Donna scoffed. “But she’s hurting and god…I don’t know what to do Harvey.”

Her voice broke as she buried her face in her hands and Harvey shattered. 

“Hey,” he said softly, reaching out. 

He tenderly wrapped his fingers around her arm, the touch sending electricity running through his veins even after all this time. She looked up, her eyes filled with tears and there wasn’t anything in the world that Harvey wanted more than to make them go away. 

“You will get through this. You’re Donna.”

“I’m Donna,” she repeated with a sniffle. 

Two words that once changed everything.

“You are the strongest person that I know. And I don’t know if you’ve realised but your daughter is a lot like her mother.”

“Oh I’ve realised. Pain in my ass is what she is,” Donna mock grumbled.

“Now you know what it’s like,” Harvey quipped, earning himself a swat on the arm.

“You’re not easy to live with either Specter,” she shot back.

“I am an absolute delight.”

A burst of laughter bubbled from Donna’s throat and starlight erupted in his chest. 

He had missed that.

A grin automatically spread on his face as a response to the sound and Donna soon mirrored his expression.

“Thank you Harvey,” she said with a smile.

“You don’t ever need to thank me,” he replied. “And Donna if you ever need anything or anyone I’m here for you. And Ava. Always.”

His hand found hers again from across the table, letting her know that he meant it. That he wasn’t going anywhere.

Silently, Donna intertwined their fingers, gently squeezing and letting him know how much it meant to her.

And in a cafe on Wednesday afternoon, the string that had been tattered and torn began to slowly repair itself. 

Unknown to both, it appeared to glow a little.

After years, fate sat up again, once more taking notice as these two people started to find their way back to each other. 

The moment she had been waiting for.

On that day, she watched them begin again.

#again im so sorry #darvey #darvey fanfiction #darvey fic #donna x harvey #mine #this is what my muse gave me #my muse gave me a gd mess

[winedwords]

AJ| Beware |Styles

Title; Beware

Words;~2700

Pairing; AJ Styles/Reader

Summary; Someone told me to stay away from things that aren’t yours. But is he yours if he wanted me so bad?

Warnings; NSFW. Adultery, cheating, older married man/younger woman, oral sex, no happy endings.

A/N: repost from the old blog

“I can’t resist you. I wait for you. I want you. I would do anything for you.”

Another night, another hotel room.

After years of being in this business, they all looked the same.

Especially when you’re wrapped around the love of your life.

It was the same over bleached sheets, the same scratchy comforter, the same too soft mattress, but none of that mattered. The titles, the work drama, the constant travel, the loneliness, it all melted away while we were here, in the sanctuary that the hotel room provided. These walls would never tell what we were doing.

Countless nights had been spent like this, feverishly undressing each other and flinging our clothes to the ether, with no cares in the world within the privacy of the hotel room. Each caress of revealed flesh was calculated and practiced, enough to leave us panting and burning for more.

Tonight though… Tonight had so much more urgency to it, the air heavy with tension and need. This was going to be the last time and I needed to commit everything about him to memory. The way he smelled, the way he felt, the way he tasted; I wanted it all seared into my memory. I wanted what we did tonight to echo in my flesh for years, so that when it all came crashing down, I would at least have this to keep me warm.

Since I couldn’t have him, not fully.

He wasn’t perturbed by how aggressively I pushed him to the mattress, giving a groan as I settled between his thick thighs and licked a stripe across his pubic bone. His breath hitched and his hips gave a stuttered thrust when I wrapped my lips around the thick head of his cock. I glanced up to those bright blue eyes that had darkened exponentially, my cheeks hollowed out and tongue tracing the underside of his cock. His long hair was tousled, mouth gaped open, broad chest heaving, the very image of him had me wet and aching. A large hand grabbed a tight fistful of hair at the nape of my neck and I needed no further encouragement. With a deep breath in and eyes closed in concentration, I surged my head forward, not stopping till my nose touched the soft skin of his belly.

“Fuckin’ shit, (Y/N)…”

I looked back up to make eye contact and gave as much of a smile as a girl can with a mouthful of cock. He’d looked like he wanted to say something else, but only a grunt came out as I withdrew, my tongue working wickedly along the length of him. Every gasp, groan, and murmured praise urged me on, to increase my pace, to make every bob of my head, each twist of my wrist, and swirl of my tongue count that much more.

There is nothing like the power of being able to reduce a man to a writhing and moaning mess with just your mouth and your hands. It was intoxicating to watch him shudder and gasp at the sensations I was able to elicit from his body. I reached between my legs with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around his cock to tease the sensitive bundle of nerves with my fingers. The first touch against myself made me moan, the vibrations had his hips thrusting his cock up into my mouth.

“Darlin’, I love your mouth, but I want to be in that sweet pussy of yours.”

I slowly released his cock from my mouth, but making sure to increase the suction towards the head. He gave a full body shudder before I let him out of my mouth with a pop and a coy smirk on my face. The brunette man reached over to the small end table and produced a small rectangle of foil. I was quick to swipe it from his hands and tear it open with my teeth. It was with a waggle of my eyebrows that I placed the condom at the tip of his cock and used my mouth to push the rubber down the length of his cock. I had to fight back my gag reflect at the taste of the latex and the press of his cock to the back of my throat until my face was pressed up against the soft skin of his lower abdomen.

Once the rubber was secured, I settled over him and positioned the head of his cock at the apex of my thighs and I paused, drinking in the image of his prone form beneath my thighs. My gaze lingered too long, because his face became concerned. Before he could get a word out edge wise, I snapped my hips downwards, enveloping his entire cock in one fell swoop.

I hissed at the burning stretch of his cock as he groaned when he bottomed out within me. I left no time for either of us to recover, setting a demanding pace. Each crash of my hips against his sent him deeper inside of me, my bouncing tits and punishing tempo left him breathless, pain and pleasure sparking into all of my nerve endings. Both of his hands moved to grip my hips, guiding my almost desperate bucking.

“What’s the rush, darlin’, we got all night.”

My bouncing and rocking became more erratic at his growled words, the tension coiling in my abdomen reaching critical mass.

“Please fuck me harder and don’t be nice. Please, oh fuck.”

His eyes widened in shock for just a moment, before his features turned predatory at my words.

The next thing I knew, I was on my back with both legs over his shoulders as he repeatedly impaled me with himself. It took but a couple moments before I was screaming my release to heavens, my body clenching down on his intruding cock. He cursed, but kept his brutal rhythm, fucking me right through my orgasm.

My body was shuddering under his intimate assault, his mouth and beard leaving angry marks across my neck and my chest. The torment that he was inflicting was a pleasurable pain and my over sensitive flesh was already gearing up for another release.

His thrusts were becoming erratic and we both shouted again, my vision growing fuzzy.

“Can we just stay like this forever? Just the two of us?”

I knew that this was a bad decision, a decision that would haunt me for possibly the rest of my life. I knew how I felt, how this started, everything was wrong.

He had been married for almost as long as I had been alive. He had four children, was sixteen years my senior, and was the face that ran the place. He had a lot of pull in this company, both among the roster and with management. He was widely acknowledged to be the best damn performer in the business, had been for years. He was nowhere near ever being mine, I never had a chance.

If we were found out, I would never work in this business again. I would be ruined and all the work I had put into making my childhood dream a reality would be for naught.

If we were found out, he’d be given a slap on the wrist and life for him would continue on.

When we had met, I was a vivacious twenty one year old upstart in developmental. William Regal kept saying that I was his favorite headache, and I took a strange amount of pride in that. I was brash and fearless, the world was my oyster and I had everything at my fingertips. Anything I wanted, I went after and failure was never an option.

He wasn’t any different.

He was the forbidden fruit. He was a hazard to me and my sanity. He was everything I wasn’t supposed to chase.

He’d walked into the performance center as a guest trainer and all eyes were on him. How couldn’t they be? He was a living legend. He’d done pretty much everything  there was to do in this business and been all over the world. It was one look in those brilliant blue eyes and I was done for.

We had resisted of course, trying to sate the feelings of lust and desire and want with just heated stares and the innocent brushing of hands at crowded work functions or when he was in the ring teaching. Each encounter seemed to end with the both of us needing to use the bathrooms to furiously rub out an orgasm with clenched teeth biting back moans or ice cold showers.

The tension was thick between us, even if we had barely spoken a word to each other privately. It took the Suplex Incident for him to start avoiding being in the ring one on one with me during training, always suggesting that I be paired with another coach. That had irritated me to no end and I went out of my way to earn his attention and praise. I had worked harder and longer than my peers just to feel his eyes on me. I lived for the kind words and encouragement when he spared them for me.

Our paths crossed rarely and sporadically, given the different touring schedules of NXT and the main roster. If I saw him in passing once a month, let alone him being at the Performance Center for an extended period of time, I could almost immediately feel my pulse race and an uncomfortable throbbing begin between my thighs.

Nothing happened until after I came to the Smackdown main roster.

“I love you, darlin’. I just can’t leave her yet, it would make things too hard at work and for us.”

I wasn’t prepared for her to slide into the booth across from me.  I had looked up from my phone and I could feel all of the blood rush out of my face.

I wasn’t ready for her. I wasn’t ready to face the real consequences of my decisions. I wasn’t ready for a public confrontation with the wife of the man I was involved in an affair with.

“You’re beautiful. I now understand why he talks about you in his sleep. Do you just like ruining lives?”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, all the breath rushing from my body. I felt like I was suffocating.  I knew when this all started that there was a chance of being found out by her. It was part of the adrenaline rush I got in his presence, part of the thrill. I don’t know why it was a shock to me that being confronted by her felt like the world was falling away from underneath me.

“I’m going to take your silence as you knowing who I am.” Her smile was wry, her eyes suspiciously bright. “This has been the hardest decision of my life, wondering if I should face you. ”

I opened my mouth, to say something, to deny the truth, but she cut me off.

“You had to have known he was married. We’ve been together for over twenty years.  He’s got four kids with me. How could you do this to us?”

Her words were passionate, but her volume was low, as to not attract attention.

I knew he was married, there was no mistaking the gold band on his left ring finger. I knew about his children and I kept my mouth and hands far, far away from the tattoos on his right side. The woman across from me and the children were his lock screen background on his phone and I had been in the room for more than one phone call from his wife.

“I don’t know why you wanted him, a married man. I don’t want to know why. Did you at least use a condom with him? Because we are intimate when he’s home and I need to know if I need to go get tested.”

The barbed words hit exactly where they were meant to. I flinched away, my face ashen, and nodded. My tongue was made of lead and none of the thoughts that were whirring around my brain were forming into words.

“Well that’s this only silver lining in this mess,” Her laugh was self deprecating and almost cruel. The laugh died in the air, and there was just an uncomfortable silence between us. She was looking down, playing with her wedding band. I opened my mouth to apologize, to say something, anything, but she cut me off, her eyes still on her wedding ring.

“I am begging you. Please stop this. Don’t take him from us. You could have your choice of men, but I don’t think I could ever get over him. He’s my everything. He’s the only one for me.” She had looked up imploringly at me, during her speech, her face honest and distraught.

By this time, both our eyes were bright with unshed tears, chins quivering. I opened my mouth again to promise that I would end this, that I wouldn’t be the source of her heartbreak anymore, but nothing came out. My hands were trembling and I blinked rapidly to wick away the gathering tears. She stood with a shaky breath, her hands gripping her purse so tightly her knuckles were white.

“My family and their happiness depends on you and whatever you decide to do.”

Just as quick as she had appeared, she was gone.

I had tried to continue my meal, but the muffin just tasted like ashes in my mouth and my coffee provided me no comfort.

“Stolen moments in hotel rooms isn’t love, it isn’t a life.”

I waited until his breathing slowed and evened out to gingerly slide out of his grip. He’d always been able to read me so well and I knew that if he was awake I wouldn’t be able to do this. That I’d lose all resolve and back out.

I dressed slowly, the echoes of our actions screaming between my thighs. My limbs felt heavy and the air in my lungs thickened. This was it. With every article of clothing I had tracked down and placed back on my body, despair was bubbling within me and I had to catch the sobs before they could escape.

I left a note, on the nightstand. He was fast asleep, a thin sheet and blanket shielding his nude body from my watery eyes.

This was it. This was the last time I would see this man this way. The last time I would be able to see the love of my life, with the soft glow of the city lights outside on catching the peaks and planes of his features. I stared for a long moment, trying to commit that face that broke my heart to memory. This would be the last time I saw him so raw and unguarded. This would likely be the last time I was alone with him. Any interactions, if any in such a large company, would be limited to shared pay per view events.

This was a man who taught me so many things, so many positions that I wouldn’t be able to forget. He’d taught me how to love, how to want, and now, he taught me heartbreak. Sometimes you have to burn everything down to get some distance from what hurts you the most.

My transfer to RAW was effective at midnight tonight.

That walk out of that hotel room was the hardest thing I had ever done. I had checked the hallway, just to be sure that there were no prying eyes in the area during the twilight hours. I had made it into the elevator and down to my room before I had burst into sobs.

By the time you read this, I’ll be far away. Whatever this was, it’s done. Make things right with your wife. Don’t write or speak a word to me. I won’t reply. Goodbye AJ.

Instead of love and trust and laughter What you get is happy never-after

#aj styles imagine #aj styles smut #aj styles fic #repost from the old blog

[91hanyu]

6 tips about learn Chinese language

I contemplated Mandarin Chinese 15 years back. It took me nine months to arrive at a level where I could decipher paper publications from English to Chinese and from Chinese to English, read books and decipher for individuals, I did this in the age of the open-reel recording the device, sometime before the age of the Internet, online word references, language learning applications, MP3 documents, YouTube and cchatty Chinese learning site.

On the off chance that I think about what I did, I find that there were six things that helped me learn quicker than different understudies who were concentrating with me. Underneath I list every one of these tips on the most proficient method to learn Chinese, which you might need to apply to your investigations.

1, Tune in to Mandarin as Often as could be expected under the circumstances

The first month or possibly two, simply center around tuning in.

Begin by concentrating on tuning in. Simply become acclimated to the sounds. You should peruse whatever you are tuning in to, yet do so utilizing the phonetic composing framework, for example, Pinyin, to show signs of improvement feeling of what you are hearing. You should get familiar with the characters in the long run, yet you can forget about the characters from the outset, and rather, attempt to get a little force in the language.

It's too hard even to consider starting learning characters when you don't have any feeling of the words, what they sound like, or how they cooperate. Another dialect can seem like an undifferentiated commotion toward the start. The initial step is to get acclimated with the individual hints of the language, to figure out how to separate words from one another, and even to have a couple of words and expressions resounding in your mind.

My first prologue to Mandarin was tuning in to Chinese Dialogs, middle of the road content without any characters, only romanization, right now Yale form of romanization. Today Pinyin, created in China, has become the standard type of romanization for Mandarin. In Chinese Dialogs, the storyteller talked so quickly I thought he was tormenting us. In any case, it worked. Following a month or so, I was utilized to the speed and had a feeling of the language.

As an aside, I think it is a smart thought to start learning a language with the middle of the road level messages that incorporate a ton of redundancy of jargon, instead of excessively straightforward tenderfoot writings. Digital recordings and book recordings are extraordinary for this. The Mandarin Chinese small scale stories at LingQ are a case of the sort of perspective stories, with a lot of reiteration of high recurrence action words that are accessible today. These were not accessible to me 15 years back.

With a feeling of this energizing new dialect and some aural cognizance, my inspiration to become familiar with the characters developed. I needed to know the characters for the words that I had been tuning in to and becoming acclimated to.

So that is tip number one, to concentrate on tuning in and Pinyin for the principal month or two.

2, Commit Time to Memorizing Characters 

The investigation of Chinese, Mandarin Chinese is a long haul venture. It will acquire your contact with the language and the way of life of well over 20% of humankind and a significant effect on world history. Hence, I generally suggest learning Chinese characters in the event that you will gain proficiency in the language.

When you choose to consider Chinese characters, work at them consistently. Commit thirty minutes to an hour daily just on learning characters. Utilize whatever the technique you need, however, put aside devoted character learning time each day. Why consistently? Since you will overlook the characters nearly as fast as you learn them, and in this manner need to relearn them over and over.

You might need to utilize Anki or some other current PC based learning framework. I built up my own dispersed reiteration framework. I had a lot of 1,000 little cardboard cheat sheets with the most successive 1000 characters. I had sheets of squared paper to work on composing these characters. I would get one card, and record the character multiple times one segment on the squared paper and afterward compose the significance or elocution a couple of sections over. At that point, I would get another cheat sheet and do likewise. Before long I ran into the importance or sound of the last character that I had composed there. I at that point worked that character out again a couple of times, ideally before I had totally overlooked it. I did this for the initial 1000 characters. After that I had the option to learn them by perusing, finding new characters, and haphazardly keeping in touch with them out by hand a couple of times.

As we progress, learning new characters becomes simpler in light of the fact that such a significant number of components rehash in the characters. The characters all have "radicals", segments that give a trace of the importance of a character. There are likewise segments of the characters which propose the sound. These radicals are useful in securing the characters, despite the fact that not from the outset. As with such a great amount in language learning, an excess of clarification forthright is an interruption to procuring the language. I found that the endeavors of educators to clarify these radicals and different parts at the beginning periods of my learning were not to incredible profit. I didn't get them. Simply after enough presentation did I begin to see the segments and that accelerated my learning of the characters.

Tip number two is to truly invest consistently and committed energy into learning characters.

3, Perceive Patterns Rather than Rules Concentrate on designs. Try not to become involved with convoluted syntax clarifications, simply center around designs. At the point when I was contemplating we had a superb book by Harriet Mills and P.S. Ni. It was called Intermediate Reader in Modern Chinese. In each and every exercise they acquainted examples and with me, that is the manner by which I kind of got a feeling of how the language functioned. The examples were the edges around which I could manufacture anything I desired to state.

I have positively no feeling of Chinese language structure or punctuation terms, yet I am very familiar. I have seen books that present uncommon sentence structure terms for Chinese. I don't think they are important. It is smarter to become acclimated to the examples that Chinese uses to communicate things that we express in English utilizing English examples. Chinese has a somewhat uncomplicated language structure, one of the joys of learning Chinese. There are no declensions, conjugations, sexes, action word viewpoints, confounded tenses or different wellsprings of disarray that are found in numerous European dialects.

Tip number three is to concentrate on designs, work them out, say them to yourself, use them when talking or composing, and watch for them when you tune in and read.

On the off chance that you might want a free sentence structure asset to help supplement your learning, at that point I prescribe Chinese syntax assets.

4, Peruse More than You Can Handle Peruse a great deal. 

On the off chance that I learned quicker than my kindred understudies 50 years prior, it is on the grounds that I read all that I could get my hands on. I read considerably more than different understudies. I am discussing unique writings for students, but instead a wide scope of material on subjects important to me. I was helped by the way that the Yale-in-China had an incredible arrangement of perusers with glossaries for every section. We began with student material utilizing something many refer to as Chinese Dialogs, at that point graduated to a reviewed history content called 20 Lectures on Chinese Culture.

20 Lectures were an intriguing open door for me to find out about Chinese history and culture while learning the language. The book comprised uniquely of writings and a glossary, no entangled clarifications, no tests. At the point when I take a gander at a portion of the course readings accessible today focused on transitional and even propelled students, they are brimming with drilling content about anecdotal individuals in China, someone at college who met his companion or went to the stylist or went skating, trailed by clarifications and drills. Not a smart thought except if you are keen regarding these matters.

I moved on from 20 Lectures on Chinese Culture to Intermediate Reader in Modern Chinese out of Cornell University. This was a peruser with valid writings from present-day Chinese legislative issues and history. Every exercise presented designs and downplayed drills and clarifications. Or on the other hand, possibly I simply disregarded them.

Yale had a wide assortment of perusers on legislative issues, history, and writing, all with word records for every section. This was my learning material. The accessibility of word list per part implied that I didn't need to counsel a Chinese lexicon. Before the coming of Alec Tronic or online lexicons, it was very tedious and agonizing to counsel a Chinese word reference. Since we overlook the majority of the things we turn upward in the lexicon, this was a gigantic exercise in futility.

I developed my jargon utilizing these perusers with word records lastly had the option to peruse a book without jargon records, simply disregarding the characters and words that I didn't have the foggiest idea. Following seven or eight months I read my first novel, Rickshaw Boy or 骆驼祥子, which is a well-known novel of life right now during the fierce first 50% of the twentieth century, composed by Lao She.

Tip number four is to peruse as much as you can. This is a lot simpler to do today. You can discover material on the Internet, utilize online word references and applications.

5, Get the Rhythm of the Language to Master the Tones

Concentrate on tuning in. I attempted to tune in to whatever content I was perusing. Perusing encourages you to learn the jargon, yet listening causes you to associate with the language and get readied to talk. Listening cognizance is the center's expertise important so as to participate in discussions with individuals.

One of the difficulties of Mandarin is the tones. We gain proficiency with the tone of each character as we get jargon, however, it is hard to recall these when talking. It is critical to disguise the tones as a major aspect of expressions. Listening encourages you to do this. The pitch and cadence of Mandarin, or some other language, can just originate from tuning in to the local speaker. You can't learn it hypothetically.

Specifically, I discovered tuning in to customary Chinese comic discoursed, Xiang Sheng, 相声, an extraordinary method to get the beat of the language and of the tones since these entertainers overstate the pitch. These days you can locate these web-based, including the transcripts and even import them into a framework like cchatty.com. This was not accessible to me 50 years prior.

Actually, there is an enormous exhibit of listening material accessible for download on every single imaginable subject or you can purchase CDs on the off chance that you are in China. In our cutting edge world, all the material you find on the Internet, or material you may discover in CDs, can be changed over into downloadable sound records which you can have with you any place you go on an MP3 player or an advanced cell. Steady tuning in, in any event, for brief times of five or 10 minutes while you're standing by someplace, can significantly build the time accessible for learning any language, including Mandarin Chinese.

This was not accessible to me 50 years back. I truly needed to sit before my open reel recording device with my headphones on. The circumstance has changed significantly. I needed to scan book shops for a sound substance to tune in to on my recording device. Today there is no restriction on the material you can discover, and there is no restriction to where and when you can tune in.

Exploit and listen at whatever point you can. That is tip number 5.

6, Talk a great deal with a teacher in cchatty

The individual hints of Mandarin are not hard for an English speaker to make. The tones are an alternate story. You should rehearse a great deal with a guider, you can enroll in cchatty best place learn Chinese, both addressing yourself and addressing others. Work on emulating what you are tuning in to. Discover writings for which you have the sound. Tune in to an expression or sentence, at that point attempt to mimic the pitch, without stressing a lot over individual sounds. You may even need to record yourself to look at. On the off chance that you can get "contaminated" with the mood of the language, not exclusively will your control of tones improve, yet your selection of words will likewise turn out to be increasingly local like.  At the point when you talk, don't re-think yourself on tones, or some other part of the language. Simply let the words and expressions you have heard and rehearsed stream out, missteps whatnot. Each time you utilize the language you are rehearsing and becoming acclimated to it. In the event that you appreciate communicating in Chinese, on the off chance that you appreciate getting in the stream, singing to the musicality, at that point your Mandarin will keep on improving.  Try not to stress over acing elocution toward the start. We can't articulate what we don't hear, nor mirror sounds and pitch that don't impact us. So as to develop the capacity to hear the language and to feel the music of the language, we basically need to tune in to hundreds or even a large number of hours and permit the mind to become accustomed to the new dialect. You can't surge this procedure. Rather you should confide in the way that you will steadily and normally show signs of improvement. Accordingly whatever organize you are at in Mandarin, simply talk without dread and trust your impulses. In the event that you proceed with your perusing and listening exercises, and on the off chance that you keep talking, your talking abilities will normally improve.  Here you can find out about: The most ideal approach to become familiar with a language.

So my 6th and last tip are simply put it all on the line and you'll get the cadence.  Good karma! 

#cchatty #learn Chinese