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melodygatesauthor · 1 year

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Chapter 12: Black Ties, White Lace and Birthday Cake

prof!Steven Grant-Jake Lockley-Marc Spector X f!Reader

Edited by: @whatthefishh

Mood Boards - Book Cover - Masterlist

Chapter Summary:

Steven is coming back to class, and you're feeling off about the way he presents himself in class versus the evenings you spend together in his car.

Tags/Summary (these are for the ENTIRE fic):

college AU, no powers/not in MCU/no Khonshu (as a deity), talk of mental illness, Marc has DID, forbidden relationship, age gap, reader is 21y/o, Boys are 38y/o, reader attends college in America but isn't necessarily American, smut, sex, masturbation, p in v, creampies galore, reader is on birth control, dubious consent due to identity issues, ANGST, romance, fluff and smut, oral sex, falling in love, reader is not race coded, minor mentions of alcohol addiction and depression.

Word Count: 2.8k

SPECIAL WARNING - DUBIOUS CONSENT. READER DISCRETION ADVISED.

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It took days before Marc and Jake finally broke through to Steven, and they got to him just in time. It was Sunday afternoon, and Marc was on his ninth, or maybe it was the tenth rerun of Steven’s favorite documentary on Egyptian mythology. He said it was the most accurate one he could find and the corny jokes littered throughout seemed to make him laugh. Marc was eating another bowl of Steven’s favorite cereal, hoping that something would give, when finally…he was there.

“Oh my…” Steven dropped the bowl on the floor with a thud, soy milk and cereal spilling all over the hardwood floor. He stood up from where he was seated fast, touching all over his body as though to make sure he were really there. “I’m…I’m back. What did…what happened?”

“Steven, thank god,” Marc said, sighing in relief.

Steven ran to the three piece mirror and looked at his reflections, Jake on one side and Marc on the other. He looked at himself, hair slicked back the way Marc liked it. How long had he been gone for? It was like he totally blacked out. The pain he’d felt after the breakup pushed him so far back he didn’t recall anything from the past three weeks.

“Tell me what’s happened.”

“There’s nothing to tell, you got upset and then you just…you disappeared,” Marc sounded a little choked up as he continued to feel the warmth of Steven’s return. “I’m really glad you’re back. For a minute there, I wasn’t sure–”

“Not interested in talking to you, or you,” he spat, looking over at Jake. Steven wasn’t the angry type, but if looks could kill, Marc and Jake would cease to exist on the spot. “This is all your fault. All of it. Both of you.”

“Oye, what did you expect us to do hermano?” Jake crossed his arms defensively, as though he weren’t just as guilty as Steven.

“I expected you both to leave me alone like you promised, yeah?” Steven walked away from the mirror but he could still hear them chattering while he started getting clothes together for the day.

“You kinda messed that up when you started sleeping with your student, Steven. Trust me, we don’t wanna be here either, but you left us no choice.” Marc retorted, “you think I don’t feel guilty every damn day for what we put you through? It eats away at me but that doesn’t mean I can just stand by while–”

“Enough!” Steven yelled, looking at the mirror in the bathroom as he stepped inside, “I get it, don’t worry. I’ll behave just the way you want me to yeah? I’ll live my life the way you both want me to. The way I always have.”

There was silence while Steven brushed his teeth and showered. He stepped out of the tub and glared at his reflection in passing, noticing that they were still there despite his wish that they’d disappear. He never thought the day would come that he would be able to say that he hated them, but he felt like he did. They’d ruined everything for him, and even now they were still ruining everything for him.

“Steven I–”

“No, Marc–”

“I’m sorry I know–”

“No, Marc!”

“—if you’d just let me explain I–”

“Fuckin’ HELL!” Steven said, dropping onto the bed and burying his face in his hands, “I don’t care what you say, there’s nothing to say. I’ve spent my entire life takin’ care of you, sitting back watching you and Jake do your thing.” He slumped over and started to feel the tears flow freely, “I finally found somethin’ that made me feel like I was living. Like I was real and not just an accessory to you two.”

“Buddy, you’re not just an accessory, okay? I probably wouldn’t be alive without you.” If Marc could, he’d give Steven a hug. The guilt was killing him.

Jake remained silent, as he often did, afraid to say much in this situation. He was torn, like Steven was, knowing that Marc was making perfect, and logical, sense. It didn’t change the fact that he felt the same way as Steven did though. You reminded Jake that he was alive, and that he mattered. Even if it was wrong, he knew that he was helping you through a tough time and he hoped you appreciated that much at the very least. He had a purpose because of you.

After a long bout of silence, Steven sniffled and sighed, deciding to change the subject,

“How long has it been?” Steven finally picked his phone up off the nightstand, “it’s been…it’s been nearly three weeks.”

“Yeah, that’s why we’ve been trying so hard to get you back, the head of the history department isn’t exactly happy with a new professor who isn’t showing up to his job.” Marc sounded irritated.

Steven saw your texts…the ones where you were drunk and begging him to come back. He felt a pit in his gut before he put the phone back on the table harshly. He took a deep and shaky breath, feeling himself wanting to disappear again but he knew he couldn’t. He grabbed his chest and walked away from the phone, realizing that he’d left the mess of cereal on the floor from earlier.

“I’ll go back tomorrow. Wouldn’t want to ruin this silly little life you gave me. This meaningless, poor excuse for a life.”

“Steven that’s enough, your life isn’t meaningless, pendejo,” Jake said softly, “this is your life now, we just want to make sure you don’t make it worse than we already have.”

Jake’s words seemed to help calm Steven, despite the fact that they meant nothing. Sure, Steven’s life wasn’t meaningless, of course it wasn’t, but Jake wasn’t going to stop seeing you behind both of their backs. He was going to join Marc in keeping Steven away from you, while still seeing you on the side. He was just as much a disaster for the system as Steven was.

That night, when the other two were out, Jake fronted and picked up Steven’s phone. He had to tell you that he was coming back. He had to make sure that you didn’t say anything stupid that would ruin this little thing the two of you had going in secret.

Steven: Hey love, I’m coming back to school tomorrow. I think it’s time. Make sure not to speak to me or even come near me, alright?

Steven: Can’t even have you asking for help with class. Just pretend you don’t know me at all if you want this to continue.

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You looked at your messages on Monday morning, shaking as you looked down at your phone. Steven was coming back to school. You didn’t know how to act.

Normal, you thought to yourself, you have to act normal, just like he said in the text.

But that was easier said than done. It was simple enough to dress modestly, not wearing anything that might make him, or yourself, too uncomfortable, but walking into his classroom and seeing him there for the first time in weeks made your legs feel weak. He was still so handsome, and he looked just like the Steven you remembered.

His hair was a little disheveled and his eyes were surrounded in dark circles like he hadn’t slept for days. He wore a dark blue button-down with a black tie. He still hadn’t noticed that you walked in. Even his facial expression was back to normal too, not like the man you’d been meeting with at night. It took everything inside of you not to rush to him, and tell him how much you missed him. How much you missed the real him…but you obviously couldn’t do that.

His breath caught in his throat when looked up and he saw you.

‘I can’t do this,’ he thought, ‘one of you has to–’

“Steven,” Marc started, “come on buddy, you gotta pull it together.”

Steven tried, and somehow managed to succeed. He spent most of the class looking at the whiteboard, the floor, and anything else other than you. He tugged on his collar, feeling hot, noticing the damp perspiration under his armpits. He was more nervous now than he’d ever been with you. How was he supposed to go on like this? He was positive that he wouldn’t be able to relax in his class ever again until you were out of it.

When the lecture finished, he glanced up at you for a split second on your way out. You looked back, feeling the sharp stab of his gaze through your gut. He looked so different from the man you’d been meeting in the black car late at night. His eyebrows were turned up and eyes glistening when he looked at you. He was back to the Steven you knew and loved…no…he was just the Steven you thought you knew…

You weren’t even sure if you really loved him anymore. You thought you did, despite everything that had transpired, but part of you knew this was wrong…like something was off. The sneaking around, the undeniable change in behavior, the way he hardly ever spoke to you and refused to face you when you were alone together. You were starting to get fed up with it, but you threw it all out the window when he texted you that night and the following night asking to meet up.

You were an emotional slave for him, letting him hold power over you like no other. You asked yourself what you would say to a friend if they were in that same situation. You’d tell them to cut their losses. No questions asked. Time to move on. Yet, you still found yourself in that same damn car, bent over at the hips the same way being ravaged by the same man night after night until you were a panting, wet mess in his back seat.

Tomorrow was his birthday…at least that’s what the note read on the unmarked package you received at your dorm on Wednesday night.

It’s my birthday tomorrow. I’d be thrilled if you wore this for me. Meet me at the car at 11pm.

It was a beautiful white and lacy lingerie set. You gulped, holding it up to yourself in the mirror. It was stunning and must have cost a pretty penny, and you had to admit that it looked good on you the next night when you put it on. You bit your bottom lip, feeling your cheeks flush with excitement as they often did when you knew you were meeting up with Steven. You wondered if he was as excited to see you every time you were supposed to meet up too.

Steven, of course, had no idea that was happening when he thought he was asleep. He’d spent his birthday evening, prior to Jake meeting up with you, messily stuffing his face with a store bought cupcake while watching a bad movie on cable television. Marc made a comment about Steven getting the frosting all over his shirt, and told him to go wipe his mouth, but he ignored him.

It wasn’t abnormal these days for Steven to spend his nights looking like a zombie in front of the tv, just waiting for the time to pass by. Sometimes he even hoped Marc would take over and let him sulk, but it didn’t seem like that was going to happen. Marc was still trying to take the back seat like he’d promised he would so many times before. Steven, still slumped over, walked to Gus’ tank and gave him a few extra flakes of fish food.

“S’pose you can celebrate with me, yeah? Not like I have a girlfriend to wish me happy birthday.”

“Steven, can you stop makin’ the snide comments already? Hate to break it to you buddy, but not every birthday is going to be a big, special thing,” Marc was truly trying to stay patient with Steven, but the moping was constant, and he didn’t know how to make it stop.

“She would’ve made it special I bet.” His face contorted with sorrow at the thought of you. “Bet she would’ve done something real nice f’me.”

Steven, with heavy sobs, dressed himself for bed and crawled under the blankets. The voices in his head ceased, but they were both right there with him while he drifted off.

Jake felt horrible…worse than he’d ever felt before. There he was, sitting in the car, waiting for you to walk outside to meet with him. When would this end? He knew he couldn’t string you along forever. He also knew he couldn’t possibly continue watching Steven go through the pain of missing you while he bent you over the hood of his car in that delicate little number he’d bought for you.

How was Jake meant to end this though? How was he supposed to convince himself to stop making you whine every time he thrust between your pussy lips, stretching your hole out around him? He was starting to worry that he wouldn’t be able to end the facade. He felt addicted to you, like if this were to end he might never be the same. He needed you, and he was still holding out hope that one day he’d be able to hold you, and cherish you the way he felt deep down in his heart.

He pulled out of you, flipping you onto your back. You let out a sharp gasp in surprise when he did. Steven didn’t look at you when he fucked you, not anymore anyway. There he was though, looking down at you, cock still dripping with a combination of your juices and his precum onto the ground. He grabbed the backs of your thighs, right below the pit of your knees, and he pushed them up. Your wet cunt felt chilled in the crisp night air.

Jake lined himself up with your hole again, plunging his thick cock deep into your wet heat. There was your sweet voice again, whimpering while you adjusted to his size once more. Jake tossed his head back, still trying to avoid your gaze. It was obvious that you were suspicious of him, and he started thinking that turning you on your back was a bad idea, but he wanted to see you. It was his birthday after all, he should allow himself a little something special…right?

You leaned up, grabbing him by the tie, and pulling him close. His head snapped forward, eyes full of surprise at the sudden motion as they met with yours. You hadn’t kissed him in a while, and you missed the way he tasted, so you closed your lips over his quickly before he could pull away from you again. You noticed his movements slowed, hips rolling at a more lazy pace while you stole the gravelly moans from his lips. His pleasured sounds were almost like a growl while he kissed you.

He rutted forward, any regrets he had about flipping you over, or for being there in the first place, dissipated with every pass of your tongue over his. You reached up your hand from his tie and carded your fingers through his curls. His mouth got stuck open, hot breath punching into you while his hips started moving faster again until suddenly they stopped.

Steven’s moans echoed off the trees that kept you both hidden from the street. You felt his cock gushing his hot spend into you, making you feel full of him once more. You kept your mouth on his while you came too, coating his tongue in your sounds while your cunt clamped down over him in waves. To your surprise, he didn’t let go right away to cover himself up with his hat and high collar jacket. Instead he stayed in the embrace, kissing you long after both of your orgasms ended.

Jake decided at that moment that he loved you, of that much he was certain. It was the only explanation for this feeling that he couldn’t shake. He wished he didn’t. He wished that he could just walk away from this and let Steven heal without the residual memories that Marc had mistaken for dreams. He couldn’t though, because while holding you there when he pulled back and looked into your breathtaking eyes, he knew that he couldn’t imagine living a day of his life without you.

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bisexual-horror-fan · 3 years

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Two Boys Are Better Than One. Epilogue. "We Made It." Poly!Ghostface X AFAB! Reader.

So holy shit, this is it. The oh so long awaited conclusion to TBABTO! This has been a huge labor of love, I worked so damn hard on it for weeks, on and off, I cannot believe it is over. This is the longest I have ever worked on a fic, well over a year for fuck’s sake, I have experienced so many ups and downs, I have adored this fic more than anything ever and also gone through periods of not being able to even think about this fic for months at a time. I have obviously, fully come around on it. I love this fic immensely. This is the first thing I wrote with any polyamory and it means so much to me for opening that door. The whole fic can be found on my ao3, here.

This fic really has it all, including some of my favorite shit I have ever written! I could go on and on and get way too sappy and emotional but I will skip it, just know this fic means so much to me. Biggest shout out to @polyghostfacehours for being the literal biggest TBABTO fan ever and giving amazing suggestions for this conclusion. I hope you all enjoy it and thank you so much for reading it and sticking with me. Any feedback at all is SO appreciated, thank you so much for reading and now, let’s get it!

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 10.2K. Billy Loomis and Stu Macher X AFAB! Reader. Poly!Ghostface. Warnings. She/Her Pronouns. So Much Context Is Needed. Dirty Talk. Emotions. Complex Feelings. Crying Reader. Billy’s Dad Sucks. Making Out. Hand Jobs. Blow Jobs. Body Worship. Vaginal Sex. Riding. Praise. Softness. Domesticness. Fluff. Threesome. Multiple Orgasms. Cum Play.

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Perfection isn’t something that can truly exist in any large capacity.

It is thoroughly unattainable.

There is no single thing that could be constituted as perfect to every single person on the planet. That is part of the beauty of it though. Perfection can be tailored to the individual, every single person can have their own idea of a perfect song, meal, day, person or in the case of Billy Loomis, persons.

You and Stu were totally perfect for him. No doubt about it. And how lucky was he for that? He already felt blessed to have Stu but then you came along and everything got so much fucking better.

Better than he ever dreamt possible.

It was late and he was alone in his hospital room. You had come by, brought ice cream and you and he talked. Really talked, been so open and vulnerable. Both apologized for your parts in how everything played out. Apologizing wasn’t exactly something that came easily to Billy but even he could admit how bad the situation was, how fucked it had all gotten and he truly did feel bad about it, it shouldn’t have gotten as far as it did.

It felt weirdly appropriate to have such a difficult and raw conversation in the hospital, a fitting place to start the healing process. Even after so much, being so emotionally exhausted, he couldn’t fall asleep. He was sitting up in bed, he was hurting, physically, he was in a lot of pain, sore almost all over from the events of the party. He ached, his hand gingerly against his side. He could press that button, call for help but he feels like he almost deserves the hurt. Since he can’t sleep, he thinks.

Thinks long and hard about his relationship with both you and Stu. He really pours over it.

He remembers the first time he saw you well. He was out with Stu, they were having lunch at the diner, you were sitting a few booths away having lunch as well. He hadn’t seen you around before, you were cute. He nudged Stu and asked, “You seen her around before?” Stu looked at where Billy was mentioning and caught sight of you, he liked what he saw but hadn’t seen you before. He didn’t think much of it at the time, you were new and cute, he had the fleeting thought of pursuing something further, a shake of his head before going back to his food. Billy recalled shrugging and leaving it at that for now.

Stu noticed you more the second time. When he wasn’t distracted by his lunch. He saw you on your back, pointed you out to Billy, “Isn’t that the same girl from the diner?” and Billy’s head snapped up, looking, a smile spread across his face and confirming it, “Yeah that’s her.” Stu crossed his arms, watching you across the road, unaware of their shared gaze on you as you biked off somewhere. He said simply, vocalizing that thought he had the first him, briefly when he saw you, “She’s cute.” Looking back, saying something so simple about you was almost laughable, it was true sure, you are very cute, but it didn’t do you any justice.

They kept on seeing you around town and you just kept catching their attention and after Randy met you and then they bugged him to introduce you all. Billy still remembers the early conversations of them talking about how you seemed like you would be a fun thing to play with.

See they didn't have the best or most pure intentions for you at the start. They just wanted to fuck around with you. Thought you would be a good time and not much more than that. They talked and wondered about what they could get you to do, how far they could push you. Those conversations became a regular part of their back and forth, dirty talk passed between them, “How do you think they’d react if they knew?” and “How'd you think she sounds when she screams.”

It was hot, a good time.

What they hadn’t counted on was how unexpectedly fun you turned out to be.

The friendship started so easily, he saw the way you looked at him and Stu, the tension built, jokes and lingering touches and the friendship shifted. Your nervous confession over the blazing fire pit in your family's backyard. The way you could barely look at them, so nervous, it was endearing as hell. You tell them about being polyamorus, something he genuinely didn’t know about you and confessing to wanting them both. Hearing that, fuck, it felt really good.

It was better than he ever hoped for. Starting to date you and get to know you better was well, just wonderful. It was hard to keep you at arms length, hard to keep it casual and fun. Especially after the first time you all had sex on the riverbank. That whole day was unforgettable but getting physical like that was something else, you looked good, felt even better, how well the three of you all fit together, the way you sounded. You on your back, that moment of tension where he asked if you were, “Ready?” and you gave him the go ahead. That first slide inside of you and Stu slipping into your mouth, both of them getting as deep as possible, the way Stu groaned out “Fuck-” and he followed up with the breathless, “-Yeah.”

It was almost natural, the way you all moved together, kept reaching out and touching one and other, helping you all find your respective ends. He remembers this one particular moment, where Stu had just unloaded in your mouth and you swallowed him all down, sucking down deep breaths, still shaking from your orgasm, Billy’s hands on your waist, holding you firmly as he fucked into you.

You couldn’t look away, your eyes were locked on him and he couldn’t look away either, stripped bare and rocking with him, you looked phenomenal, he wished he could have had it recorded so he could see you in that moment over and over.

He came so hard and if how hard you clenched around him and trembled told him anything, so did you. The wait was totally worth it.

The first time the three of you had a sleepover was that last end of summer party before the semester kicked up, that hookup was so intense. All of the teasing he and you did to Stu, poor guy only got to have your mouth that night by the river and he was simply aching to fuck you. The hook up was hot but you sleeping over? The three of you all curled together in Stu's bed, while the sleep itself wasn't the most comfortable in the world, the feeling of comfort it gave him, warm and real in his chest more than made up for it. He very clearly remembers after you all got up to start cleaning up, you in Stu's sweater, the way your shared boyfriend practically attacked you with kisses as he looked on. It was one of the first moments his deeper feelings stirred for you.

There was this one time, you had all planned for dinner, three of you were busy during the day and had all agreed to meet at this restaurant, you and he made it there first. Both waiting for Stu, you both talked, easy and casual. It was just a really sweet conversation. He recalled complimenting you on what you wore and you smiled, striking a small pose, “What this?” You asked in such a teasing fashion before sitting down, across from him, “I ran home and just threw this on. Glad you like it.”

You didn’t even pick up your menu yet, leaned forward on your forearms and asked him so sincerely, attention totally on him, “How are you? How was your day?” And he was struck with how sweet that was, you were like that though, not self centered and going off about yourself, you genuinely wanted to know about his day and told you.

Honestly, something about it just flowed really well, and when the waitress came over you ordered his and Stu’s favorite drinks as well as your own and then Stu showed up, apologies for being late along with some joke about how boring it must have been before he arrived and you retorted with something that rode the line between biting and funny and teased him before Billy could even get the chance to. It felt nice, made him melt just a little and made him think you really saw Stu. That understood him and Stu, more than that, you added to what the two of them shared.

The night he and Stu talked about what to do with you. They both obviously had changed their minds, slowly shifted their position, liked and wanted more than just a little bit of fun with you. There was the very obvious issue of their ‘hobby’ and how much to include you, they had skirted the topic a few times but Billy was the one to press the matter. “You’re fucking crazy.”

“No, c’mon man, just hear me out. I think we should tell her." Stu scoffed, hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling as he leaned back in his chair, "Billy, normally, I love your ideas, but I think it's too soon." And Billy’s foot came up onto Stu’s chair, right between his legs, the threat of him pushing the chair out from under him had the blonde’s hands flying out, ready to steady himself in case that happened. It made Billy smirk a little.

“And I think you should hear me out. She’s different, something else, there is just something about her that makes me think we can trust her.”

A brief pause before he continued, “I see something in her, I think she’s a lot like us, whether she realizes it or not.” His foot came off the chair and it tilted forward hard, all four legs back on the ground, Stu let out a sigh, looked across to Billy and saw how serious he was. Billy watched the way Stu looked closer, as if he was really considering it, taking in how Billy looked, staring as if the answer was in the eyes of the brunette in front of him.

He’d felt so strongly about it at that moment. Billy just had this feeling inside that wouldn’t go away, kept nagging at him that this was right, the next natural step, that it was important, he hoped Stu would see that.

After another moment Stu gave a single nod and said, “Okay, I’m willing to give it a shot. How are we doing it?”

Billy laid it out and the more he talked the more Stu listened, he still showed some reluctance but not much, just as he had told you he’d agreed to take a leap of faith based on what Billy said and as we all know now, it worked out.

The first time you’d cried in front of Billy, it was a big moment to say the least. You didn’t mean to. It was kind of silly to be honest, you had just had a terrible day, so many bad things piled up at once. Forgetting some homework and your teacher being a total fucking dick about you turning it in late that he was going to gouge your mark, even though you were never late on turning in assignments. You spilled food on yourself at lunch and stained your shirt, after you tried to clean up in the bathroom, you were rushing to your next class, shirt wet from your attempt at fixing it, you closed your locker too fast and caught your skirt and when you pulled away you ripped it, leaving a decent tear in it.

This day was a beast and it all just kind of accumulated and piled up. You leaned against your locker, fingers on the hem of your new ruined skirt, trying to figure out how to deal with it in the less than five minutes you had before your next class. Billy had come by, he’d been having lunch with you, wanted to see how you were after rushing off to deal with your shirt and he found you leaning against your locker, looking so distraught. “Woah, babe, your shirt that fucked up?”

You let out a small laugh as you looked up at him. “Not just the shirt,” you gestured down to your skirt and he huffed. “Oh fuck.” He reached out, hands met your arms and he asked, genuinely concerned. “You okay?” You couldn’t help it, it was like it all just hit, weighed you down so much, tears started to slip out and you shook your head. “No, m’ not-”

His heart broke a little bit, he listened to you start to vent, could only bare it a few minutes before he took your hand, started to pull you away, drag you down the hall, towards a set of exit doors, “Bi-Billy? Where are we going?” He has his phone out in his hand, firing off a text. “Out. Fuck the next class, me and Stu are gonna get you out of here.”

He pulled you off and a few minutes later there was Stu and the two of them took you away, you skipped the latter half of the day, they let you vent and you cried a bit more and they were simply there, present. Billy watched as Stu had his arm around your shoulders and your face was wet, tissues in hand, talking about what was bothering you so much and Billy was listening, he was, but was also thinking.

Thinking hard about how big this was, you cry in front of them, letting yourself be so emotionally vulnerable and open. They had you feeling better and laughing in less than an hour. Billy felt even better about your relationship after that.

There was this one night, he came home, just after a date with you and Stu, practically floating, it was a great time, he was planning on a shower and getting some sleep but his dad was still up. Soon as he was in the door he started laying into him, asking him, "Where were you so late?"

He was taking off his shoes and didn't even bother glancing at his father as he said simply, "Out." A grunt of displeasure followed up by him asking, "With who exactly?"

"Y/n-" He cut him off, "Again?" This finally made Billy's gaze snap to him, clearly bothered he had been cut off, "Yes. Again."

"Why don't you ever bring her here? Are you embarrassed of her?" Far from it, much more that he didn't want to bring you around his dad "No, just like going out." Not a total lie, he did like being out of his house, away from his father, just didn't tell him a lot of the time he and you were at Stu's place.

"And she doesn't push to come here? Doesn't want to meet me?" Billy was getting more annoyed by the minute, "We don't exactly sit around talking about you, dad."

"I dunno if I like her-" and even bigger piss off, he hadn't even met you yet and he was already starting to write you off. "-you know who you should date?"

Oh God, this should be good. Even if he absolutely did not want to, he decided to humor his dad. "Who?"

"That nice Prescott girl, Sidney." And just like that Billy was stepping away from the couch, leaving his dad behind and heading upstairs, his dad called out sounding offended and condescending. "Good night to you, too."

He was so angry. He hated that he was stuck living here with him, hated how he talked down to him, how he just talked about you and to go so far as to suggest he dares Sidney. It makes him dig out a pair of boots from under his bed and put them on, lacing them up, he couldn't stay here, not right now. He pulls his window open and skips back out into the night. He goes to you. Where else would he go right now? Get up to your window and slip inside, you are in bed, asleep. He only watches you for a moment before stepping forward and sitting on the edge of the bed, making you stir awake.

You roll over and are looking up at him, "Mmm Billy? What're you doing here?" He is back down at you, trying to find the words, he settles on saying, "I know I just saw you but I…" He cut himself off, chewing his bottom lip nervously and you gestured for him to come closer, hand met his cheek. "S'okay, you don't have to say."

Fuck. How were you so good? Your hand let go and you patted the space next to you on the bed. "Wanna get in?"

He did. He took his boots off and laid down with you, ended up spooning you while you were playing idly with his fingers. He enjoyed the moment. The quiet, the warmth of you, the softness of your bed, the smell and most of all the closeness. He pulled you closer, wished he never had to go, his face was nearly buried in your neck and even though he felt it, was sure he did, the idea of saying it without Stu present when he was sure he felt the same just wasn't right. So he opted to say, "I love your bed." You hummed. "I love it when you are in my bed with me."

He pressed a kiss to your cheek and let himself close his eyes, enjoying this for a while longer before having to go back to that building that while it was called home, it hadn't felt like it in years. He hated his dad. He was sure or that but he was equally just as sure that he loved you.

He actually said it before Stu. That night they indulged in a fantasy of yours, staging a kidnapping and having you in the back of that van out in the forest. It was a fantastic time, you were very into it, the harsh dirty talk, the knives and ropes. After it was over they both brought you to a place that was important to both of them, that ledge that overlooked town. It was where Billy and Stu had ended up on nights they were both upset and venting to each other, it was that same place that the ‘joke’ of killing Marueen became more than that.

It was hand in hand with you, looking out on that same view that he said those words for the first time, “I love you both a lot.”

He went further, “You know that, right? I know I have trouble saying it, but really I feel it. I just need you both to know that I feel that way.” It felt right, necessary to say it. He had been worried about it for a long time. Nervous and scared about saying those words out loud no matter how strongly he felt them but as soon as he did, the relief, it was immense.

Stu confessed his own feelings right after and apologized for being so weird about holding off on doing so. Stu got emotional and ended up in his and your arm, comfort provided so easily and for once Billy wasn’t overthinking. He was startlingly present at this moment. It all felt so clear. He had never been more happy to do something that was initially so scary.

It was a late Saturday afternoon when the news dropped. Cotton Weary found guilty for the crime of murdering Marueen Prescott.

They both were in Stu's living room, had the TV on, had been talking, trying to distract themselves as they waited, wondering if they'd really done it. Stu had been paying back on the couch, throwing a ball up and catching it over and over, just something to occupy his hands and give himself something to focus on.

Billy was in the chair near him, boots on the coffee table and when those words actually filled the air between them, they couldn't believe it. Stu sat up, looking over to Billy, "Did they-?" Billy's eyes were focused on the tv still, nodding, "They...They did."

He sat back in his chair and Stu practically fell over himself as he got off the couch, "Holy shit man!" And he started going off, talking so fast and Billy was still turning those words, the verdict, over and over again in his mind. Until Stu's hands were on his shoulders and gave him a small shake. "We actually did it."

Billy finally let himself smile and said, "Yeah, we did."

We.

That is the night they became a 'we.' The two of them became official that night. Sneaking about and fooling around stopped, it wasn't so casual anymore. Billy really looked at Stu that night, the knowledge that Stu was really here for him unmistakable. It was hours later, when Billy’s hands were in Stu's, the taste of cheap beer and pizza and Stu himself on his tongue as he told him that he wanted more than something so casual. His hands were sweaty and he rambled a bit too much but the point got across. Stu of course as we now know took him up on the offer, and was absurdly happy. He'd wanted it for so long and it made all of what he did seem worth it.

He thought about all those times and many others, moments that seemed average at the time until you look back on them and realize they hold more meaning than initially anticipated. He thought until he had exhausted himself to the point he couldn't possibly stay awake another second.

Even with the bad. There were too many great moments to recall them all.

When did that happen? When did his life get so fucking good that there were too many wonderful things to keep track of?

Why did he ever hide anything from you?

Ever doubt you for even a moment?

He had no idea. He was glad to have gotten to where he is now. No point in questioning it that hard. He should try to focus on the here and now with you and Stu.

The ride to college was amazing.

In the car with you and Stu, talking so excitedly, listening to music and long stretches of comfortable silence. His hand in yours often, unable to stop himself from doing so, from touching you and Stu, reminding himself that you were both really here.

You all stopped midway for lunch, the three of you decided on sitting in the grass near the restaurant. You and he were talking about some of the things you'd still need for the place, conversation light and Billy had his head in your lap, you were playing with his hair and he felt comfortable and close to you.

It was such a beautiful day out.

Stu came out, bags of food in his hands and settled down with you and lunch was started. You were currently leaning your head on Billy's shoulder. He thought you were just being sweet, wanting some closeness, till he realized where your hand was, stealing HIS fries

"Hey! You have your own!" And you pulled away, salty stolen treat in your grip, "But your fries always taste better."

He couldn't say no to you.

The move was a little hard with the boys not able to do much but that's what the movers you hired were there to help with.

After it was the three of you all in the dust place that was just for the three of you, emotion overtook, all excited to have finally made it. You were the one to kick it off, "This is our apartment." Stu stopped digging through one of the only boxes you were opening tonight, dragging out pillows and blankets, "Yeah. It is."

You reached out to both of them and soon you were all sharing a hug, surrounded by boxes in what would be your living room.

Not much was set up at first, stuff just moved in that first night, take out was eaten on the floor in a blanket nest while watching a movie, the first night in your shared apartment, all curled up in bed together. It was the best sleep you've had since the start of summer.

Life is good.

Apartment was coming together, college underway, starting to fall into and figure it living together. The causal intimacy and getting to come home to each other was lovely, there was one small thing, even after this the three of you hadn't been physical.

It was upon your insistence.

You didn't want to until they were healed and the stitches were out, didn't want to take a risk, no matter how small of losing them. The three of you had a tendency to get so into it, and it had been so long holding back would be impossible. They agreed, because let's be real they were just so glad to have you back and to be living with you.

Finally the stitches came out but still you didn't plan the hookup. Just wanted to let it happen naturally, which you all prefered.

You and them are taking it easy in bed. All while watching a movie. Billy is pressed to you, his chest to your back and fuck, you are comfortable, so sweet.

It's quiet, a lull in the conversation.

He feels all of you, really takes you in, the feel of you against him. Being right here and having nothing truly holding him back it was so much, he wanted you terribly. Eyes lingering over your form pressed so close to him. The urge to touch you overcomes.

He brushes those scars on your upper arm and he feels. You are so committed to him and Stu. Yours healed much quicker, he touches them so carefully, fingers carefully tracing the edges. The flash of you digging the pocket knife they had gifted you was still so clear. Hard not to be shocked with how quickly and harshly you jumped into action, it drove home your feelings for them.

He actually feels nervous, very unlike him. Still he presses forward, closer and his fingers are under your chin tilting your head for him to better reach and he kisses you.

It is slow, languid and familiar. You start to return his affection, slow and sweet. You always tasted addicting, you'd changed chapstick flavors since getting back together and he kind of loved that, as if the switch signified this new chapter of your lives and relationship. Or maybe he was thinking too much about the shift from cherry to peach, his mine running away, almost as if to distract himself from just how intense it felt to kiss you like this. Not holding back, explicit implication and wanting more to transpire.

His fingers begin to slide up your shirt, so tentatively, you arch up into his touch, kissing him more, harder, you were enjoying his own taste.

Stu was right there, hand resting on Billy’s back, sliding up slowly, taking his time, once his hand made it past his neck it threaded gently in his hair, pulling him back carefully, breaking the kiss with you so Stu could replace your mouth with his. Billy pressed between you and Stu, his lips sliding against Billy’s and it had been so long since you got to see this, your two boys kissing, the way Billy was shifting, the hum Stu let out, you had missed this more than nearly anything else.

After watching for a moment you rolled over and leaned in, started to kiss over Billy’s neck, hands on his chest as you worked on overwhelming him with affection. It worked.

Stu and Billy had sex while you were gone but it wasn’t the same.

They attended to go back to the sex they had before you but it just didn't click, didn't flow as naturally as it did previously. Before you it happened in such an easy way but now it took much more effort, almost felt forced.

It was hard, rough, trying to just satisfy that itch and distract themselves from the fact you weren’t there. They had quite a few times of mutual masturbation, handjobs and blowjobs, and it was just physical, just trying to cum. It wasn't intimate, it was used as a distraction. Can't be sad and missing you if they are busy fucking, right?

Wrong.

They at least tried it though.

Having this? This much slower, softer and sweeter moment hadn’t happened in too long. Having you here and back in his life was so much to handle already, but having you and Stu together like this, starting to really get into touching him was a lot to take.

Stu’s tongue in his mouth, fingers massaging his scalp and his other hand on the bottom of his jaw. Your mouth kissing over his neck, your hands smoothing over his chest, fingers skating over his nipples through the thin material and he tried to just hold on. Not just physically but emotionally.

He started to try and touch you back when your fingers began to dip into the waistband of his sweatpants, he was pulling away from Stu’s mouth and tried to say in a confident tone but it fell short, his breathing betraying him, “Slow down, let me do something-” and you shh’d him.

“No, no babe, just relax. Let us take care of you.” Stu agreed, “We're really sorry. Let us make it up to you.”

It made Billy feel tight in the chest.

It was true.

After you had all gotten back together a big talk was had about that. Stu and you getting together first behind Billy’s back. Billy was really hurt by it, he understood it and the fact that he had started it with his treatment of you that caused the breakup was not lost on him. He tried really hard to swallow his pride and get over his own ego but when it came out that you and Stu had been physical without him, not only that but you had pegged Stu for the very first time without him present? He couldn’t help it, he got fucking pissed. He again tried to rein it in but him being upset was so obvious, you basically helped Stu cheat on Billy for fucks sake. He said some things he regretted, you and Stu mostly took it all the same.

Listened as he ranted, too loud as he asked, “-you just couldn’t wait? Just fucking HAD to do it.” He accused both of you doing it on purpose, as a way of getting back at him, “I knew you were both slutty but my God can’t leave you both alone for a minute without you both fucking around behind my back!”

It hurt. You and Stu both apologized over and over, and had done everything you could to show him how serious you and Stu were and the regret you had for doing it without him.

You and Stu wanted to spoil him, pour so much pleasure over him to really make it up to him.

You both praised him. “He is so fucking pretty, isn’t he?” and Stu let out this half laugh, "Too pretty for his own good."

Kisses laid over him, hands wandering, Stu whispered as he started to tug on Billy’s pants, “God, we’ve needed this.”

Billy let out this questioning hum, eyes closed, and you piped up, “Mmm that night we both missed you so much, it didn’t feel right without you there.”

He listened as you both slowly stripped him, hands lingering as more and more skin was exposed. “No way could we ever do this without you, living here and trying to have this life without you just, fuck, Billy there is no way we could have.”

Stu was sucking a mark into his collarbone, pausing only to interject the one word, “Unthinkable.” Yes, the perfect word for the idea of that, unthinkable.

“We love you.” You both did. Endlessly. He had to know that. By the end of the night you and Stu would make sure that he did.

“Fits just right between us.” you agreed. On and on about him as you kissed and touched and had finally stripped him bare. All about how good he looked and sounded and how he tasted. You and Stu didn’t allow for a single moment of doubt to seep him, no time to overthink, just kept piling him with more love than he knew what to do with. You hadn’t done this often enough, needed to put Billy front and centre like this more.

Your hand closed around him and it made him tense under you but you didn’t stop. You were giving him a handjob, kissing him, “You’re so hard-” slowly pumping as Stu was kissing over his chest and neck, playing with his nipples, taking his time.

Stu was working his way down Billy’s body, he could hardly handle it. How much personal and specialized attention he was getting. Stu was finally low enough as you had your hand wrapped around his shaft. Stu started to lick over the head of Billy’s cock.

Billy can’t take his eyes off of him. Stu starts to take more of Billy's cock into his mouth, sliding down his length and he inhales shakily, “Fuck-” his mouth felt hot and wet and Billy felt so receptive, usually he could have a hand on the back of his head and fuck up into his mouth and down his throat with such ease but tonight it was effecting him terribly. Made him feel inexperienced and like it was the first time all over again instead of the, God, who knows how many times Stu had done this.

Soon your hand is in the way and you pull it back. Stu starts to blow Billy, slipping him in and out, the sounds he made while he did this were always a treat, not just the harder breathing and the little moans but the naturally wet sounds of the act.

Your fingers are in Billy’s hair as you whisper low in his ear, “Doesn’t he look so good on your cock?” Billy’s gaze flicks to you, his face is flushed, you are so close, eyes filled with a mix of affection and lust. One thought was clear, he loved you.

He really, really fucking loved you.

He gave a small nod, of course he looked good but he should say something, you and Stu had been almost unbearably sweet, other than a few curses and hushed breaths of your names he had been just taking it. Try to convey all he felt. Before even the most basic attempt could be made at putting his feelings into words you were sinking down. Now this was the best. Getting you and Stu on him at the same time? Both sucking him off? It was all consuming.

Was hard to not squirm once you got into it. The way yours and Stu’s tongues danced over his shaft, one of you sucking on the head of his cock and the other one working his balls over. Make him buck his hips up into your mouth with a groan. Your lips were soft, your mouth was warm and too inviting.

Then both of you on either side of his shaft, he felt so spoiled, your tongues meet you were pausing to make out, Stu palming his sack that was soaked from spit, you and him kissing. Your eyes closed, hand on the back of his neck, tugging him closer, kissing him deeper and unable to hold back the soft moan you let out into his open mouth. “Stu-'' He hummed your name in return. The kiss was messy, pre-cum and spit allowing your lips to slide against each other with ease.

The view of you both doing that was somehow just as good as you both blowing him. Your hand didn’t stop and he was rocking his hips a little, enjoying the view, it was making him hotter, needing more stimulation. Soon you are pulling back and sucking Billy’s cock down. It had been months and you took it as if the last time he had been this deep in you was yesterday.

Stu’s hand on your head, encouraging you, “Oh yeah baby, c’mon, deeper-” pushing you down and you took more, a small nod and he still feeling him up, “Look at her man like fuck-” His other hand on Billy’s hip, helding hold him down so you can work better. “-she’s unbelievable. A total dream.”

And Billy agreed. He missed this, you sliding him deep in your mouth, it felt amazing. The praise was so welcome, it made you feel warm.

You missed this, you always went about it differently than Stu, not better, just different in an utterly fantastic way. The look on your face and the moans that slipped out and vibrated up his shaft were extremely telling just how much you got off on doing this. It kept going like that, hands and mouths, you and Stu passing him back and forth. Neither of you can shut up, you starting “I’m so happy you are safe.” and Stu adding on “-that you are here.” and both of you, “Love you so much.”

Billy was trying to stretch this out, didn’t want to bust too fast, wanted to really linger in this moment but you didn’t make it easy.

Stu was focusing hard, fucking him in and out of his mouth, long and slow strokes, deep, so deep, and there you were. One hand on his hip, kissing over his rough pubic hair and lower stomach, and then you did something unexpected. Your fingers traced over the scar carefully.

It made his eyes snap to you and his breath stop, eyes wide. You are looking up at him, “I can’t believe you did that.”

A small smile, “Offering yourself up like that? Trusting me enough to do that to you? I was so scared I took it too far.” You leaned in, he could feel your warm breath against the scar now, “You looked better than I had ever seen you. The way you sounded? My God, Billy. I know how big of a deal that was for you, I’m so thankful.”

The way you talked about it, the look in your eyes he could tell that moment meant as much to you as it did to him. He hadn’t spoken about it much but it meant a lot to him, it was the most important moment to him in your whole relationship. More than the confession, more than the holiday gift exchange, more than any of those moments big or small. His heart was gonna hammer out of his chest at this rate as he watched you lower all the way down and-

You kissed his scar, it hurt but it also made warmth spread throughout him, the feeling it invoked couldn’t be defined, the sharp pang of emotion and arousal that spiked through him was unsurpassed by anything else he’d felt so far this evening.

His hips bucked up, a loud moan, Stu swallowing around his cock and just like that he was close. You kissed it again, and again, tongue ran over the length of the scar gently, soft whispers of his name and love and his hand found the back of Stu’s head, he thrust up into Stu’s mouth once more and came.

It felt extraordinary.

Cock pulsed as he unloaded, thick and salty into the willing mouth wrapped around him. Stu moaned against his cock, taking every single drop he had to give, then he pulled off and Stu was pulling you to him hurriedly. He was kissing you and he got treated to the view of the messy cum filled make out, the way you moaned at getting to taste him. You pressed yourself closer to Stu, needing to be nearer, your own need was becoming too much, you were craving some relief of your own, it felt like Stu needed that too.

You and Stu pulled back and then were swallowing your respective mouthfuls and you said it because it was true, “He tastes fucking amazing.”

Billy’s breathing was coming back to normal, his heart was still pounding, he reached out for you and you crawled up to him, his hand met your face, his thumb swiped over your chin, collecting the small amount of cum that had slipped out of your mouth and he pressed it to your lips, you allowed it easily. He pushed in and wiped his thumb down the centre of your tongue and your lips closed around him and sucked the cum from him.

“I have to see you.” His eyes were fixed on yours and his tone was so low when he said it.

You gave a single nod and leaned down and kissed him, he returned it as he and Stu started to strip you, expose you to them, your shorts shimmied down and your tank top pulled up and off. The panties you had on were drenched, the air felt cool against you now that you were fully exposed. “My God-”

In the process of them getting your clothes off, Stu’s clothes were stripped away too, you had instigated it, tugging on his clothing, Billy took the hint and helped you until both of you were totally naked.

The low light from the moon outside and the tv cast just this glow over you that made you look heavenly. “You are…” Words failed him, nothing seemed good enough or like it could do you justice. He let the words hang in the air, his sentence trailing off and he sighed. The things you were capable of doing to him. “You’ve made him speechless, babe.” Stu teased and it let you let out a soft laugh, it seemed like you really had.

“Shut up.” He rolled his eyes with a scoff, it sounded fond however. He was already feeling vulnerable and so unlike himself, your teasing wasn’t helping but it was classic you and Stu. He couldn't and wasn’t really mad, if anything it was a comfort, reassuring that things were going to truly work out and be like they were before. really taking you in just as you were doing, he was below you and looked gorgeous.

He starts to touch you. Hands tracing over your sides, your hips, touch is light and he dwells and indulges in you. He plays with your tits, palming them and pulls you to him, mouth closing around one of your nipples. “Billy.”

His hand sinks down, he touches you, rubs your clit, pads of his fingers swirling with even pressure and it makes you moan. It had been a long time, last time someone had touched you was Stu that night you had him in your bed.

You had slacked on masturbation during the breakup. Hadn’t wanted it or been in the mood or right headspace but after being with Stu it had awakened those needs in you once more. Several nights tangled in your own sheets, wishing and hoping for them to be doing it instead, finally having it once more really reminded you that you never wanted to go without ever again.

He strokes your clit until you are squirming and then he moves on, fingers you in earnest, you are so slick he adds a second finger almost immediately as his teeth graze over your nipple, pulling back and switching to your other. Stu has been enjoying the show, seeing you and Billy reunite is something he had been looking forward to since you’d all gotten back together.

Billy pulls back as Stu finally joins in, hands starting to touch you and with Billy’s mouth free you kiss him.

His fingers curl inside you and you gasp against his mouth and it is similar to how he did against yours when you ran him through with his own knife. You grind into his hand, the pleasure was already starting to mount, you were too sensitive, another moan had you breaking the kiss. “Don’t stop.”

Stu is kissing your neck, right behind you, just touching you, getting his own fill, skin on skin contact, fingers rolling your nipples. Stu spoke against your neck, “You heard her, don’t stop man.”

As if Billy ever would. You are moaning, and he can feel it, you were nearly there so fast and you tell him, panting out, “I’m close!”

He urged you on, he wanted to see it, wanted you to break apart in the palm of his hand, “You gonna cum?”

A frantic nod, Stu echos this, “Yeah?” He wanted it just as badly. A weak moan, thighs felt so weak, “Yeahhh-”

You grind more, you tighten up, pleasure coiled so tight, fingers rocking in and out just right, palm pressed to your clit and it becomes too much. You moan and writhe and cum for the first time that night on his hand. “Oh good girl.” The way you clench down and pulse, panting out his name, he couldn’t wait to fuck you, feel you do this again while he is buried inside of you. "Looks like it felt so good.”

Stu is painfully hard. He can’t help it. Pulls you down while you are still heaving, pressing himself to your mouth and you open to let him in. He hissed out your name as you took half his length in one stroke.

You start to blow him, moaning around his cock and Billy loves the sight. Watching as you bob up and down, tasting and enjoying. The difference in how you did him and Stu was subtle, almost imperceptible to someone on the outside but not to them. The way you were so perceptive and took into account the little things that really got to them and elevated the act.

He loves you both, could watch you and Stu for hours.

The only hurt was from the fact you did this without him, now that he is here and present again it was easy to forget all that.

Billy sits up, he touches you, hand on your back is reassuring as he tells you how to suck Stu off. Not like you needed the instruction, but simply because he knows how much it gets to you both, like him taking control and being involved. “Take him deeper. Hmm deeper than that hon, I know you can. Mmm just like that.”

Stu was already moaning, head back, “God, yes.” You could hear the smile in Billy’s tone as he kept telling you what to do. “Pull him out. Stroke him, twist your wrist, yeah, trace your tongue right under the head, fuck. He really loves that.”

You follow his instructions to the letter until Stu is a whimpering mess, you gag and choke on it and it makes Stu almost sob. You pull him back out, stroking him slowly, head of his dick against your cheek as you look up at him through your lashes, “So fucking big, a girl could hurt herself if she isn’t careful.” You lick over the tip and close your lips, an indulgent suck of him before popping him back out, “Would love to be on my knees every fucking night choking on this.”

It doesn't take long, Billy kissing along Stu’s neck, praise heaped on him now, not quite as sweet, “It’s times like this that I really love the fact that you can’t ever shut up.” The moans that spilled from him were unfairly hot and amazing encouragement, as was the blush on Stu’s face from how you heaped on the cock worship. How he sounds always made you want to keep going until he couldn’t vocalize anything remotely close to actual words.

In a few short minutes Stu ends up cumming hard in your mouth. Panting and cursing all the way, shaking in Billy’s grip as he spills into you.

You open your mouth and show off the cum painting your tongue, Stu lets out a groan, “Shit.” before you close your mouth and swallow it back. Billy had his fingers in Stu’s hair, enjoying the sight and he praised, “Without even being asked.”

You are tugged back up to your knees. More kissing is passed between all of you, you aren’t sure how long it goes on for, hard to keep track, hands running over your body, you were so wet, could feel it on your inner thighs, squeezing them together, rubbing them together, wanting some stimulation.

Soon the kissing slowed and then you were on your back. Billy is on top of you, he is going to have you, he is so hard again, he is overcome with feeling in the moment.

Touching you softly, fingers brushed some of your hair aside and then down the side of your face, down further over your chest and hip, coming onto your outer thigh, fingers hooking under, you took the hint, your legs wrapping around him. He was pressed to you, grinding himself against you, feeling how wet you were, the friction on your clit had you sighing in pleasure.

“Billy, fuck. I can’t wait, please? I need you.”

The way you are moving against him, grinding back, whispering such sweet things, “Been craving this for so long.”

He had been too, missed it just as much and so he lined up, prods at your dripping entrance, you tense slightly, a sharp inhale, anticipating the feeling of him taking you. He takes a deep breath and his hips move and he slowly slips inside, the shared moan you both let out urges you both on. He doesn’t stop, inching himself inside, feeling how tight and drenched your are, enveloping him perfectly, so welcoming, and even if it might be kind of corny he can’t help but think, “You feel like home.”

You had your hands on his shoulders, legs hugging his hips, back arching, moaning so perfectly, you begging him to move. It is dangerously close to being enough to make him cum on the spot. He takes a moment. A deep and steady breath before starting to move.

He fucks you slowly.

The stretch of him and the drag of his cock inside is satisfying in one breath and makes the need worse in the next, the ache and craving settled deep inside. He takes his time, wants to enjoy every bit of feeling and sensation of the heat and wetness, the feel of your skin against his and your breathing fanning over his throat, the moans that escaped as you writhed below. “Billy-” God, how you moaned his name. “-mmf yes, feels-” what you said made it impossible to not, he gave a harder thrust that made that sentence die on your tongue with another moan.

He needs even more. His hand feels down your arm, he feels your own scars that you gave yourself that night again. It makes the feeling swell inside his chest again. His mind is running wild as he has you. Thoughts of you being the best, the absolute best, he thought he was obsessed with you before but now? It made the feeling before feel like a drop in the bucket. He was totally in love, irrevocably. He kisses you, moans your name against your own mouth, rutting into you, pace still wonderfully slow, still trying hard to not cum so soon.

Stu is touching you both, looking you over, taking in the act of it. On his side, his hand running down Billy’s back one moment and palming one of your tits the next, it isn’t helping Billy, or rather it is helping him along too well. It all hits right then. Being with you and Stu again, in your shared apartment, in your shared bed, buried fully inside of you and Stu almost pressed to him, whispering, “She sounds so fucking good.”

You did. You felt and sounded perfect. He can’t get over the fact you are with him, that everything worked out, all because of you and Stu, the love and devotion makes him break.

He ends up getting too overwhelmed. He cries. Not hard but it is unmistakable, the tears slipping down his face and the shake of his shoulders.

You catch on immediately, “Oh Billy, come here-” and wrap your arm around his neck, pull him close, kissing along the side of his face.

“It's okay, we’re here, it’s all good baby-”, Stu is rubbing up his back soothingly, “Let it all out.” and he really breaks.

He sobs into the crook of your neck and he fucks harder. You know he wasn’t going to last, you want to reach your end with him, your hand slips between your bodies, fingers rubbing firm circles over your clit. It pulls a louder moan and makes you clench around him, “Billy-oh my fucking God-”

As good as it is when you do this he feels selfish, he wants to make you cum again. His hand between you, knocking yours out of the way, rubbing your clit for you. Pressure and pace matching his thrusts and you nearly sob yourself, you tell him you are “-so close!”

He begs you for once, “Fuck! Baby, please cum, m’ not gonna last, please-” you chant out his name, pleasure rising, panting and eyes closed tight, right on the edge and he just manages to outlast you, with another swift move of his fingers you do just as he asked, you cum hard.

Legs shaking and still gasping his name, he kisses you while you are still mid-way through, pace faltering, his face is wet, you kiss him back, hand on your arm around his neck slips into his hair, you tug gently and he breathes out, “I love you.” And with a few short and hard thrusts it happens and he cums inside of you, finally allowing himself release once yours had been assured with an ample moan of your name.

You had missed getting fucked in general but getting creampied like this was really something else.

You hold each other on the come down, he is still inside you, kissing you and you returning it, kissing slowly down, less heated, softer and sweeter. Breathing slowly comes back to normal and you are running your fingers through his hair, “I love you too.”

As much as he doesn’t want to, he slowly pulls out, Stu is still right there and after seeing all of that of course he wants you, more than that, has to have you.

Billy rolls onto his side off of you and he watches as Stu pulls you into his lap, your legs are still trembling, arms wrapped around his neck and you are still filled with Billy’s cum as he slips it in. It makes his eyes roll back, head falling back as well, a moan of your name and you moan his in kind.

True, while you had been physical with Stu sooner than you had been with Billy you didn’t do this, having him inside you again, especially when you were still so sensitive after just getting fucked by Billy.

There isn’t as much lead up or pre-amble. He is much too turned on for that, the craving to have you just as your shared boyfriend had was frantic. You aren’t going to complain. Billy props up, watching as you start to move your hips, watches as Stu fucks you slow and hard and there isn’t any more hurt.

He is just filled with love as he watches the two most important people in his life find pleasure in each other. Watching how your breasts bounce and how hard Stu’s fingers dig into your waist, pulling you up and down, filling you over and over. His tongue dragged up over your neck and you arched close to him, moaning out his name, the pace picked up. You and Stu touching, moaning and squirming, him fucking up into you over and over and you finally having enough feeling in your legs to fuck back down onto him. His hands on your hips he angles you just a little and it makes you yelp, “There it is.”

You nod, “Mmm! Yes, right there! Fuck, Stu-” He is hitting that sweet spot inside and with you in his lap the friction on your clit was just right. You were soaked, the sounds of your moaning and how wet you were along with the slap of skin on skin filling the bedroom and Stu wasn’t being quiet either. “God, I’m almost there, shit-”

You were nodding, still slamming down onto him, grinding your clit as you did, “Me-me too!” Billy couldn’t tear his eyes away, the look in Stu’s eyes, his mouth hanging open, panting and moaning, hips rocking up, painfully hard cock plunging into you again and again. And then you, sweet and wonderful you, rocking with him, moaning and panting, shaking and about ready to fall apart.

You cum just a moment before Stu does, pulling you down hard, all the way inside, filling you and adding to the mess, his forehead pressed to yours, you moaning out his name as you are overcome with the feeling of your orgasm taking hold as he cums. You were breathing so hard, as the two of you wring out every ounce of pleasure you can and when it's over you sigh out, “Stu, fuck-” He let out a small laugh, a hum and he nodded, nose nuzzling into your throat, “Yeah you really said it all.”

Made you let out a small giggle and Stu pressed kisses over your neck and face, you kissed over his face in return and then his hands on your hips he pulled you up and you allowed yourself to fall back onto the bed.

Billy looked you over. Spread out on the bed, legs open, cum spilling out, soaked in sweat and leaking them, heaving, you are beautiful.

Your hand slides down your stomach, coming to rest between your thighs, you finger yourself, two fingers pumping in and out of yourself lazily before coming up and tasting the mix of the three of you. A satisfied hum pulled out as you do so. Stu reaches out, hand closes on your wrist and he tugs your fingers out of your mouth, “C’mon don’t hog it.” He teases and then your fingers are in his mouth, he sucks the remaining mess off, tongue rolling between your fingers and when he is positive he has gotten it all he pulls you out, “God, that’s good.”

It did look good. Billy asked, “Don’t I get any?” You give a nod and get up on your knees, scooting closer, one hand on his shoulder, your other hand between your legs, you maintain eye-contact with him as you slip your fingers inside. A soft moan crosses your lips and once you slide them in and out a few times you pull them out, hold your hand up and he leans in, tastes it for himself and it makes him want to roll his eyes back. The three of you all together tastes, the only word that comes to mind is complete.

You all are close together after that, still stark naked and curled up, enjoying the closeness and quiet.

“So I am thinking pizza?” Stu asks and fuck, that sounded amazing.

“We have some drinks in the fridge, yeah?” You ask in return Billy says “Yeah we do.”

“Order the pizza and then take a shower while we wait for it to come?” Stu offered and you agreed and peel yourself away. Get off the bed and Stu reaches out and his hands go to your sides, he tickles you and you laugh, “AH! No, Stu! St-stop!”

And you squirm away, giggling and continually telling him to “Stop it!” Stu getting off the bed, not letting up.

Billy is sitting up, a wide smile on his face, starting to get up himself, watching you try to get away and Stu going after you.

This?

All of this?

This is perfection to Billy Loomis. No more than that, this is perfection for the three of you.

#AH #IT IS DONE #IT IS OUT #ENJOY IT #TBABTO #Two Boys Are Better Than One #Billy Loomis X Reader #Stu Macher X Reader #Poly!Ghostface X Reader #BHF writing #I am so happy I managed to get this all done and out #I cannot wait to start getting feedback on this #PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE gimmie your thoughts now that it is all done!!!

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dumpsteramy · 3 years

Text

a thousand push ups

hi @1smallwriter!!! (One_Small_Writer on ao3) I loved every single prompt you came up with for @b99fandomevents fic exchange, especially this prompt: a sort of AU of the last day of the academy or something along the lines of that (Graduation maybe?). i wanted to try and do this one justice because jake and rosa’s friendship!!!! JAKE AND ROSA’S FRIENDSHIP!!!! I hope you enjoy it as much as I loved writing it | also on ao3

“A thousand push ups.”

Why that is the moment Jake’s mind chooses to focus on as his closest friend prepares to stand, he really can’t say. Maybe it was the way she said it – so full of truth and so steady. Maybe it was the relief he felt after she spoke. Maybe she could have said anything at all and it was just the fact that she was there. Whatever the reason, those words cast endless vignettes in his mind as he watches her smooth her dress blues. Of the two of them storming through simulations together, of her kicking his butt in defensive training, of him carving tyre marks and shrieking past her on the track. Of a thousand push ups and a million secret curse words hurled at superiors and epically long handshakes.

Five months ago, Jake Peralta met Rosa Diaz in the middle of firearms training. He was standing in the gun range, knuckles white and straining around the weight of a glock in his hands – his hands. His hands, the hands of a kid who almost burned his privates off in high school. He was a jittering bag of nerves as he lined himself up to aim for the silhouette ten metres away. Taking a breath, he tried to steady his shaking hands but holding a gun was all so new that it could never seem natural – but should it ever? He altered his stance, corrected himself at least five times, wondered how John McClane could make this look so easy, then aimed.

And missed.

“What the hell?!” the most terrifying voice he had ever heard yelled from the booth beside him.

Now, five months later and sitting in his dress blues in Madison Square Garden, he can’t believe he’s about to hold a gun for the rest of his life. He’s about to serve and protect his home, the people who live in it, and his hands are shaking again.

“A thousand push ups,” he mumbles to himself.

He looks around the arena to find her already looking straight at him from her place. To anybody else, Rosa Diaz looks strong, stoic, but the last six months have taught him how to know her. She’s strong, obviously, but he can see her nerves in the way she slides her shaky hands in her pockets to hide them. He mimics a push up to make her laugh and her lips twitch for a fraction of a second.

______________________________________________________________

Five months ago, the most terrifying woman he had ever seen stormed into his booth and snatched his gun straight out of his hands.

“What the hell are you doing? What were you thinking?” she seethed, unloading his weapon and slamming it onto the worktop.

“Target practice,” Jake said. “Suppose I can’t be the best at everything.”

She shot him a glare and fired four perfect headshots and he immediately dropped the act.

“I'll make this real simple. This,” she pointed at his target, “is your target.”

Jake stood there and nodded dumbly, his jaw somewhere on the floor, as the woman simply reloaded her own weapon and fired another outstanding round into his target.

“This,” she quickly aimed at her previous shot, “is my target. You do not fire at my target. You do not even look at my target. You only look at your target.”

She stared at him. Jake couldn’t help but think it felt a lot like staring down a python and he was clearly the mouse in this situation. Swallow the fear, Peralta, don’t expose your neck.

“No doubt, no doubt, no doubt, no doubt,” Jake assuaged quickly. But he had to ask. Because she was so cool and badass and she totally could. “Can you curve bullets Wanted-stylez too?”

Her eyebrows furrowed. Who signed off on this dude carrying a weapon?

“Is that what you were trying to do? Curve your bullets... Wanted-stylez?”

“Well, actually I was trying to do that badass gun spinning thing like in Robocop,” Jake grinned, then faltered. “But I am sorry for almost killing you.”

She set her jaw and he was two seconds away from hightailing it out of there when she let out what he thought was a laugh. It was more like she exhaled through her nose, but he swore her lips twitched upwards.

“I’m Jake,” he smiled again, placing a hand on his chest and reminding himself to not look at her target.

“Rosa,” she replied.

______________________________________________________________

“Officer Rosalita Diaz,” the mayor calls, and Rosa straightens her dress blues once more before walking onto the stage. “The chief of training award goes to the student officer who has scored the highest firearms proficiency average of ninety-nine percent, congratulations Officer Diaz.”

Now, sitting and watching through sniffles and blurry eyes, Jake sees Rosa shake the mayor’s hand. He sees their entire futures flash before him: there will be all nighters solving cases together; there will be mornings where Rosa refuses to add the right amount of creamer to his coffee because he’s disgusting and takes it wrong; there will be annual rolly-chair derbies across the floor of their future bullpen; there will be even more increasingly extravagant donut tosses all over the city; there will be countless arguments over who gets to drive; there will be a million more training days, Robocop-stylez.

He never saw an end to their shenanigans in the academy. They were only just getting started…

______________________________________________________________

“Incoming round five, Diaz!” Jake shouted as he hoisted two beers in the air. He stumbled over the feet of fellow cadets and discarded drinks and Rosa raised a hand to take her bottle before he spilled it over her.

She gave an appreciative nod, clinking her drink against his. He sloshed half of his beer down his shirt but she can’t judge him too hard. Not after the day they had.

“Maybe it’s a good thing I can no longer feel my arm.” Rosa commented, rubbing at her paintball bruises whilst Jake slid into the seat beside her.

“Yeah, you really couldn’t have handled another drill,” he said.

Rosa shot him a glare. “Oh? And you could? With that moron?”

“I – wha – I absolutely could!” Jake spluttered, slamming down his bottle a little too hard.

“Nah, I saw that last run you did with Wates. You looked about ready to shoot him in the back, Pineapples.”

“Come on! That guy had his vest on backwards and we were expected to follow his orders?”

“You would have finished at least ten minutes faster without all the arguing.”

“His vest was backwards! Rosa! Backwards! Backwards, Rosa! Rosa, backwards! Rosa, it was ba—”

“I get it, I was there,” Rosa snarled before he spiralled too far.

“And he didn’t believe me when I told him it was backwards. And he screwed up the takedown. And yelled at Officer McNealy.”

“Officer McNealy is a dog.”

“And he outranks us all! I mean, show some damn respect, Wates, the guy is an NYPD legend.”

Rosa fell back into silence. But Jake was far from finished.

“If I could just retake that last drill, I bet I could set the record for fastest, most badass arrest in the history of the academy. Without Wates. I mean, would it be so bad if he just never became a police officer?”

“The city would be safer for it,” Rosa mused.

“Someone should set fire to his badge.”

“Melt it down.”

“Strip it for parts.”

“Engrave butthead on it.”

Jake snorted then took a long swig of his drink.

“Hey, I dare you to scratch butthead on his bed frame,” Rosa smirked, watching as Jake seriously considered it.

“Trying to get me kicked off the force already?” Jake laughed.

“No, I’m trying to get Wates kicked off the force. I’d love to watch him try and explain butthead to whoever inspects your rooms,” she explained. “Dumb dumb almost wrecked my shoulder today.”

“Jackass. You really still can’t feel it?” Jake tentatively placed a hand on her arm.

“Nothing alcohol can’t fix,” she raised her drink. “And now you have a decent chance of beating me at push ups.”

“Jerk,” Jake grinned, “I have to say, there’s not many people I’d risk carving butthead into a bed frame for.”

Rosa couldn’t fight the smile muscles.

______________________________________________________________

Jake watches his partner up there on the stage, being awarded the highest firearms proficiency average. It’s hard to believe it was a few short months ago when he almost shot her in that training room. Really, it’s no surprise she’s the top of the class. He recalls drunkenly begging her to whip a throwing star into a dartboard and of course she hit bullseye.

Most days, he counts his lucky stars that he used to have terrible aim because he doesn’t know how he would have survived the academy without meeting her.

So he shouts the loudest in Madison Square Garden when she shakes the mayor’s hand because her family tends to be silently proud, and she deserves the loudest kind of pride.

______________________________________________________________

“Hey, Peralta, you know what time it is?”

Jake slowly stood from placing another evidence marker and smirked. “You know it, Diaz.”

“Jake and Rosa’s First Impressions!” They both said it in unison, perfectly in sync as they began to survey the crime scene.

“No forced entry, suggests an existing relationship prior to the robbery. Jake?”

“Location of safe under the bed means an intimate knowledge of the apartment and vic. Rosa?”

“Computer and jewellery all in plain sight, motive may not solely be financial. Jake?”

“Treadmarks from boots indicate a male given their size. Potential dirtbag ex. Rosa?”

“Overwhelming evidence of a dumb dumb dirtbag ex,” Rosa amended, holding up a smashed picture frame of one scary looking dude with his arm around the victim. A tiny trace of blood marked the back of the frame.

“Oh we are good, Diaz!” Jake exclaimed, placing another evidence marker beside the photograph.

Rosa smiled and seamlessly launched into their five step handshake.

______________________________________________________________

“Officer Jacob Peralta,” the mayor calls. Jake rises to his feet.

This is it. Six months of endless sit ups, seven hundred donut catches and a million miles ran, all in the pursuit of one handshake.

“The commanding officer award is assigned to the student officer who has displayed exceptional police duty during the academy, congratulations Officer Peralta.”

The walk to the stage is short but monumental. He can see his mother in the crowd, clapping and cheering the loudest of all, and he has to blink a few times before the mayor swims back into focus. He can just make out Rosa, and she’s smiling, a proper, luminous smile, and he beams back.

They made it. He can’t believe it. Those nights when he just couldn’t focus, just couldn’t remember, just couldn’t do this, he can remember fondly now.

______________________________________________________________

Rosa threw the textbook at him. “Do you even want to graduate?”

“Ouch! Are you serious?” Jake growled, glaring at her from his position on her dorm room floor. Rosa’s aim had only improved even more over the last five months. And now he was bound to have a stellar bruise to attest for it.

“Are you?” Rosa snapped, “Because you’ve spent the last four hours ranking every type of candy on the dark web.”

“And now I know to avoid the strawberry laces from Tokyo, Rosa!”

Rosa looked ready to strangle him with said strawberry laces so he opened the textbook quickly.

“Look, I know you want to act like some hotshot FBI agent but you need to graduate first,” Rosa said, unwrapping a packet of watermelon candies from who knows which country.

“There’s no way anybody can remember all these codes,” he complained, ripping into some Mexican candies.

“10-87.”

“Uhhh, hospital? Transit to hospital?”

“10-88.”

“Fire alarm? Is that fire alarm?”

“Stop guessing,” Rosa warned.

Jake sighed and thumbed through the textbook. “There’s just no way to know them all! There’s too many to know by this test tomorrow, and then if I even manage to graduate how the hell am I supposed to know a billion different numbers off by heart while chasing down criminals or if I have a gun to my head, and then there’s the letters and the traffic codes and the—”

“Jake. Stop. You’ll be fine, man.”

“You don’t know that, Rosa!”

“Yes, I do.” Rosa sat up against her bed, taking the textbook from him because she could see him getting overwhelmed. “I do know. I’m already a better detective than you.”

Jake narrowed his eyes but there was no malice there. Her words had already eased the weight on his chest.

“You know more than you think you do,” she continued. “You’re one of the highest scoring, most insanely talented cops. Wouldn’t be surprised if you get a certificate of achievement on the big day. And I’ll be right beside you when you do, because I’ve got your back. Seriously, Jake, you’re going to be fine.”

“Seriously?”

“A thousand push ups.”

Jake bit his lip. “Annnd here come the waterworks.”

She chuckled and handed him the textbook back.

“Okay, 10-16.”

“Stolen vehicle? No, vehicle isn’t reported as stolen. No, wait – it is, it’s stolen vehicle.”

Rosa nodded. “10-24.”

“Assault.”

“10-53.”

“Acc...acci’ent, ve’cle acci’nt…”

“Peralta, is your face okay?”

“Huh? Uhh,” Jake sat up and tapped along his jaw. “Huh. Can’ feel.”

“You can’t feel it? Nerve damage again?”

“10-4,” Jake said.

“Copy that,” Rosa groaned, sliding into her boots and grabbing him by the collar. “10-87.”

“Smar’ass.”

“I could just leave you here,” Rosa smirked.

“Nuh uh, you go’ my back,” he mumbled, “A ‘usand ‘ush ups.”

“A thousand push ups, you moron.”

#b99 #brooklyn nine nine #jake peralta #rosa diaz #b99 fic #brooklyn 99 #b99 summer 2021 fic exchange #b99fandomevents #writes

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artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

(I Can Still Recall) Our Last Summer - Chapter Two (Group Fic) - pureCAMP

A/N - Did I say sooner than soon? I meant it! Here comes 8.5k of shalaska for you all to enjoy!!

*important* the smut in this chapter was written by our very own citrus, over at @aqcitrus and @pianowired, so please give them some love for this incredible addition!!

Raja laughed incredulously as they continued on their way home, leaving the new handsome stranger behind. Justin had blown Sharon a kiss as they left, and in a sudden surge of confidence she blew one back, throwing her usual caution to the wind. Any of her mother’s friends or fellow church attendees may have seen the flirtatious action and would report her for it, no doubt landing her in an even huger heap of trouble, but in that moment Sharon didn’t care.

“Bitch, what was that? Who are you and what did you do with our little prude?” Raja tickled her ribs, Sharon jerking away from her and squealing.

“What? I’ve never been a prude, I’m repressed!” She laughed in response. “You act like this is the first time I’ve ever flirted with someone.”

Jinkx raised her eyebrows, clearly agreeing with Raja. “I mean, it’s not… but you usually flirt to get free drinks or other free shit.”

Sharon blushed, suddenly feeling like she was being interrogated. “What? I did, didn’t I? I just got him invited to our show, that’s good for us right?”

“Good for one of us.” Raja teased. “He seems cute, I don’t blame you for developing a little crush.”

“Oh, please.” Sharon rolled her eyes. “You can’t develop a crush after just one meeting. I just… yeah, he was cute. And we flirted, and now he’s coming to our show. So, that’s that.”

Jinkx giggled. “If you insist.”

It had been a little out of character, Sharon admitted to herself, because they were right; she usually only flirted to get free drinks, loathe to spend what little money she had at the bar when someone else could do it for her. It never went anywhere, of course, just in case her eagle-eyed mother found out about it and grounded her to the pits of hell. But Justin had been right there and warm and witty, and their flirty rapport had just flowed naturally.

And maybe she was a little more than excited at the prospect of him coming to their show. Maybe her chest did feel a little bit funny, wriggly and alive and pulsing with her heartbeat, flushed with heat.

Fuck. Maybe she had a tiny crush on Justin’s cliched sparkly eyes and curly hair that she maybe, maybe wanted to run her fingers through. Just once or twice.

Fuck.

After the girls had dropped her off home, Sharon practically flung herself onto the bed and buried her face deep into her pillow. There was something exhilarating about how attracted to him she felt. It was nothing insane - they’d barely spoken, a mere flirtatious exchange of names and not much else - but he was imprinted on her mind now. She had never been allowed to feel like this, so… hopeful, in a way. Hopeful to see him again, hopeful that he would feel the same way, hopeful that he was in his hotel room somewhere thinking about her eyes and her hair and her smile.

It felt good. Sharon was never one to play in to the idea of fate, and true love - it all tied in too deeply with the sacrament of marriage, something she never wanted to think about - but she swore up and down she had felt a change in the air as soon as they made eye contact. Something about him was special, something about their sudden meeting was special. The stars outside her bedroom window were twinkling like his eyes, in such a way that she knew, one way or another, her life was about to change. From that moment on, things would turn out to be different.

Even if she had to make them different herself, somehow.

When the morning finally came, after Sharon had given up on feigning sleep, she decided to just get up and begin her day. Springing herself up at the crack of dawn wasn’t her preferred way to spend a morning, but it was a surefire way to gain a little bit of freedom, and the sleep sacrifice was worth it. It meant, at the very least, that she could dress the way she wanted to without having her mother’s complaints.

The air was crisp and fresh with the scent of sea-salt as Sharon made her way towards the docks. It sometimes felt too good to be true that her mother had no idea that the little island existed, let alone that it was where Sharon spent most of her days. She made sure to appreciate every inch of the view she was surrounded with, knowing many weren’t as lucky as she was.

Tiny white ships were dotted along the horizon; some carrying tourists, some carrying fishermen and some merely carrying sailors looking for a chance. The ocean was calm, gentle waves rippling and lapping against the powder-like sand and the worn planks of the dock. The early morning sunshine was pale and blithe.

Scanning around, Sharon looked for her usual ride to the island, but couldn’t see the little sailboat bobbing in the water where it usually was. That was strange. Most locals knew it was unofficially hers, and never took it out to sea. Some irritating tourist had taken it, most likely. With a huff, she began to wander along the dock for another, slightly miffed at the disappearance of her favourite.

At the end of the dock, there was a man squatted in front of a boat, cursing under his breath. Sharon watched in amusement as he continually tried and fail to undo the knot tying it to the dock, listening to his frustration grow. Part of her was tempted to just leave, and let him suffer, but she decided otherwise.

“Need some help?”

The man turned.

“This stupid bo- Sharon?”

He had remembered her name.

With his brow creased and his green eyes shining, Justin looked incredibly handsome. His dark hair was mussed from running his fingers through it. Sharon wanted to smooth it down again, an urge so tender that she nearly blushed at the thought of it.

“Justin. You look a little flustered.”

He ran his hand through his curls once again, smiling. “Yeah, it’s hard not to be when you’re looking at Aphrodite. Are all the girls round here completely gorgeous, or is it just you?”

Sharon laughed. “Are you always this flirty?”

Justin shrugged. “I don’t know. Are you always this beautiful?”

Laughing again, Sharon began to walk closer, sitting on the wood next to Justin and letting her legs dangle into the water below.

“You really think flattery will get you everywhere, don’t you?” She commented, raising one eyebrow. “Pretty bold. You must be feeling smug.”

He winked at her. “Well, in case you didn’t know, flattery has gotten me into not one, but two conversations with a beautiful girl in less than twenty four hours. Honestly, I’m just feeling lucky.”

Justin stopped, tugging at the knot once again before sighing. “And… maybe hoping I’m lucky enough that the beautiful girl will help me with this boat.”

Sharon considered him. “Hmm… I’ll flip a coin. Heads says I’ll help you, tails says I won’t. Let’s see how lucky you really are.”

With a deft flick, she produced a coin from her pocket and tossed it into the seawater below. It landed with a soft plink and began to sink to the bottom. Justin deflated.

“I think your luck may have run out…” Sharon said, pouring as much mock-sympathy into her voice as she could. “I’m sorry things had to turn out this way, but-”

Justin paused her in her tracks. “Nope. My luck never runs out. I’ll find a way.”

Before Sharon could even react, he had slipped off the edge of the dock, plunging himself into the water after the damn coin. The resultant splash managed to utterly soak her, and she shrieked as the cold water hit her skin. He had definitely done that on purpose, and she was definitely going to get him for it later.

A moment later, he resurfaced, with a grin on his face and the coin held between his now-wrinkled fingers. “I got heads! I swear on my life, this coin landed on heads!”

Sharon squeezed the remaining water out of her hair, giggling. “Fernando! Parakaló voithíste aftón ton anóito na ftásei sti várka!”

Fernando looked up from where he was untangling fish hooks from the lines. “Fysiká agápi mou.”

Within moments, he had severed the rope, and the little boat drifted out a little before being pushed back in by the waves. Sharon moved her legs out of the water and rested them onto the edge of the boat to make sure it stayed.

“You speak Greek.” Justin observed. He sounded surprised.

Sharon snorted. “I live in Greece. It’s a custom here to speak the language that you’re taught from birth, you know.”

Justin cracked up. “Alright, touché.”

“No, that’s French. Try again.”

“Shut up!” Justin burst into proper, loud laughter, setting off Sharon into doing the same. “Let me sail, dammit!”

“Hey!” Sharon protested, doubled over. “This is my boat!”

Justin frowned, though his shoulders were still shaking with suppressed giggles. “Oh? I was told this was public use.”

“It is.” Sharon shrugged. “But see that name? On the hull?”

On the side of the little sailboat, in glossy turquoise paint, was ‘Supermodel’, in Raja’s usual perfect cursive. She had been drunk when she did it, if Sharon recalled correctly, and yet it had still come out looking incredible.

“I get it…” Justin said, nodding. “Because you’re a supermodel, right?”

“Now who’s the one that needs to shut up.” Sharon grinned, trying to cover her flushed cheeks. “It’s my band, actually. The Supermodels. We’re playing at the island tonight, I’m pretty sure I remember inviting you to the show.”

Justin scratched the back of his neck, his complexion suddenly matching Sharon’s uncharacteristic blush. “Yeah, you did… I was actually going to find my way to this island, so I can look around and not get lost like a total idiot in front of the beautiful girl, but then…”

“You needed Fernando’s help.” Sharon finished, giggling.

“I needed you.” He corrected her. “Your help.”

Slowly, he lowered himself into the boat, and picked up the oars. “You coming?”

Sharon’s blush rose from her cheeks, covering her entire neck and even her ears. “You’re soaking wet from that dive, Justin.”

“Ah. Right.” He shrugged, and took off his shirt. “Now are you coming?”

Embarrassingly breathless, Sharon nodded. “Sure. I’m in. Seems like your ass is gonna need my help on the island, too. You’re gonna need a guide. Most of them don’t speak English.”

“Just get in, Supermodel.” Justin beckoned her. “It’s not like I can row this thing on my own, anyway. Surely you don’t expect that.”

Despite his joking words, Justin played the gentlemen and insisted on rowing it himself, claiming that it was the least he could do for allowing him to use her boat. Around them, the sea seemed to be glittering, the reflection of the sunlight creating idyllic patterns in the waves that shifted them nearer and nearer to their destination. With no other boats in sight, the atmosphere was utterly serene - as though Sharon and Justin were the only two people in the world.

Sharon was slightly shameless as she admired the real view; Justin had given up entirely on his shirt and was allowing the sun to dry him as he rowed. She could see all of the muscles in his arms rippling as he rowed, and his bare chest rising and falling as he breathed. He wasn’t hugely bulky or muscular, but lean and toned. His hair was still wet, and every so often little droplets would fall and roll down his face.

“Here,” Sharon said quietly, taking the oars as the edge of the island began to appear. “I’ll get us to the shore. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Justin nodded. “Yeah…” He breathed, not turning to look behind him. “Breathtaking.”

As they disembarked, Sharon found a weight lifting from her chest at the feeling of the sand sifting through her toes. She let out a bubble of laughter, uplifted by the freedom her paradisal sanctuary always filled her with. In a moment of pure euphoria, she began to run towards the little village, confident that Justin would be following her.

“You are crazy,” Justin told her, a few paces behind as she came to a stop in the marketplace. “Completely crazy.”

Sharon grinned, unable to keep the smile off her face at their arrival in her favourite place. “So it’s been said.”

He stopped and surveyed the area, taking it all in with an impressive enthusiasm. Sharon almost found herself holding her breath, desperately wanting him to like the place she most often called home. Judging by his expression, however, she had nothing to fear.

“Alright, so you’re my tour guide. What should we do now?” He asked, fluttering his eyelashes. Sharon laughed at his antics and rolled her eyes, thinking.

“There’s shopping, the ice cream stall, the taverna… we could walk…” Sharon listed, not sure which he would prefer. “It’s real easy to waste time around here. I’ve lost hours doing nothing, honestly.”

Justin smiled. “Well, I’d be happy to lose hours if it’s with you. Let’s go look for novelty shirts in here, I love doing that. If we find anything leopard print, it’s mine.”

So that was their first port of call, flicking through racks of clothing and laughing as they pulled out various prints of ludicrous colours and patterns. Justin seemed to have a way of making the littlest of things seem funny, and whether or not that tied in to the excited nervousness Sharon felt around him, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that he felt safe and he made her laugh like nobody else had before.

“Oh, oh, stop all the clocks. This is it, it’s perfect.” Justin announced, his head visible a couple of rows away in the tiny store.

Sharon turned, nearly doubling over when she saw the absolute monstrosity he was holding proudly towards her. The dress was just awful, wide and unflattering and patterned with an array of nauseating colours.

“This would look beautiful on you.” He said, deadly serious.

Gasping in mock offense, Sharon shook her head. “I’m more of a dungarees kinda girl, if we’re talking everyday wear. More practical than that thing.”

Justin’s eyes crinkled when he smiled, and Sharon kept noticing it. “Ah, perfect. See, that was my second choice.”

Sure enough, he was soon brandishing a pair of dungarees, admittedly in good quality, that looked to be about her size. Sharon laughed and dismissed him, but soon turned to complaining as he marched to the counter, insisting on buying it for her.

“I can’t believe you just did that!” She lightly whacked his arm as he offered the bag to her, leaning up against the wall outside. “You just spent your holiday money on me! You don’t even know me!”

Justin shrugged. “I know that your name is Sharon, you’re a dungarees kinda girl and you’re my tour guide for the day. You perform in a band called The Supermodels which are playing tonight. I feel like that’s a good start.”

Sharon took the bag, conceding. “You’re weird. All I know about you is that your name is Justin, you’re here on vacation and you’re a total idiot.”

“Hit the nail on the head, really.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Sharon tried to ignore the flame ignited by those words. “Fine, I will. We’re getting ice cream now, and I’m paying for it.”

They ended up splitting the cost in half at Justin’s insistence, each getting a cone with two scoops. Sharon harshly judged Justin’s choice to get chocolate and vanilla, whilst he dissed her choice of mint chocolate chip with an upturned nose. They shared each other’s cones anyway, though Sharon wasn’t exactly sure how that happened.

Their morning in the marketplace seemed to disappear all too quickly as afternoon approached, prompting everyone to start closing their stalls to get away from the heat. Justin suggested they take a walk to explore the island, so Sharon started to take him towards her favourite spot at the highest point, claiming that it had the best view to really enjoy everything. Somewhere along the way, Justin had nearly tripped on a wedged-in rock and Sharon had grabbed his hand to steady him.

“I never want to leave this place.” Sharon swore fervently, sitting beneath the shade of a tree and staring into the horizon. “Nothing out there can get to me here. I’m safe.”

Justin squeezed her hand, and it was only then that she realized they were even still holding hands. It felt strangely nice as his thumb rubbed soothing circles into her skin.

“What’s so bad out there that you feel the need to escape to here?” He asked. His voice was gentle.

Sharon sighed. “Everything. The way my mom treats me and the life she expects me to lead. The choices I have to make. The fact that my friends are going off to university at the end of this summer, and I was too stupid to even graduate high school. If I stay here, I don’t have to think about being left behind.”

Surprisingly, Justin nodded. “That makes sense. I have a similar situation, to be honest. My whole life is laid out in front of me. I have an amazing job waiting for me, a guaranteed position in the family business, a nice house in a good area…”

“But you don’t want it.”

“Not that. I just… I don’t know anything else. I can’t commit to living in that box when I don’t know what lies outside of it. There has to be more to life than that.”

Sharon bit her lip. “Try being the daughter of the most Catholic woman on the mainland. It’s quite a feat.”

“Touché.” Justin said again, grinning. “I guess we’re both just searching for a purpose, huh.”

“Yeah. God, what a bunch of sad saps we are,” Sharon joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Justin chuckled in agreement.

“How long do you have to find your purpose, anyway? When do you leave?” Sharon almost didn’t want to ask the question, but found her tongue betraying her anyway.

Justin kept his eyes fixed on the sea. “Either in just over a month, or… never. I haven’t decided yet.”

Sharon smiled softly. “I like never. I think we could make never work.”

She stood up, dusting the sand off her clothes and stretching slightly. “There’s one more place I want to show you before we head to the taverna. Follow me.”

Ignoring her unusually elevated heartbeat and flushed red cheeks, Sharon took Justin’s hand once again and began to lead him further up on the island, towards a group of abandoned wood and concrete buildings that stood broken and unused against the flawless backdrop.

Justin seemed complacent to follow as she led him inside, ducking under a partially-collapsed doorway into one of the more structurally-sound rooms. Surprisingly, there was a working fridge in the corner where the kitchen was, with some slightly dusty cutlery and crockery residing next to a sink that habitually dripped water every few seconds. Tucked into another corner was a mattress, covered in towels and a few mismatching blankets and pillows, with an almost threadbare sofa dumped in the middle.

“It’s not much. I tend to stay here when my mom is too much. But this place?” Sharon’s eyes were shining. “It’s gonna be something, someday. I think part of my purpose is to make sure that happens.”

Justin’s eyes crinkled in the corners as he regarded her. “What will you do with the place?”

It felt a little bit like bearing her soul to admit it. Sharon hadn’t even told Raja and Jinkx about it, but something about Justin made her feel safe. Like he would understand exactly what she meant.

“I… I want to make it into a hotel, somehow. This whole area, with its own taverna and restaurant and a courtyard. Hotels are like temporary homes, they’re a safe haven for anyone who needs them - and this place is my safe haven. I’m gonna make it beautiful.”

A look of understanding flashed across Justin’s face. “You could just use this space for storage. Build all the way down to the actual taverna, fill up some of the empty space on the island - the ground is secure enough for it.” He blushed. “I’m, uh, into architecture. It’s one of the reasons I came here to Greece.”

Sharon smiled involuntarily. “I like that. We’ll build it together.”

“Yeah. You and me.”

In her boldest move yet, Sharon took hold of Justin’s face and kissed him, very gently, on the lips. He seemed surprised at first, but soon leant in to deepen the kiss, running a hand through her hair. It felt as though the moment could’ve lasted forever, until Sharon regrettably pulled away.

“I can’t believe I just did that.”

Justin cupped her face, studying her intently. His gaze made her feel beautiful.

“I liked it.” He told her.

Sharon blushed. “I did too.”

“Alright, come on.” She offered her hand a third time, this time giving it a little squeeze and smiling shyly. “Let’s get to the taverna. If you like music, dancing, drinks and white lycra, you’re gonna love tonight.”

Soon enough, Justin became a staple in Sharon’s everyday life. He attended every performance that The Supermodels were doing, whooping and cheering to an almost embarrassing extent as Sharon danced and sang before him. Their time together grew more and more special, the transition from friends to something more seeming like an easy natural progression. He was security personified, a warm hug that she could always find safety in with a laugh that could drive her insane. He was beautiful, he was perfect, and he was all hers.

Every day for two weeks straight, they had been side by side. If Sharon could infer anything from the butterflies in her stomach, it was that she was falling hard for him. There was no safety net, no rope to keep her from tumbling down - it was just Sharon and Justin and that was enough for her.

He had touched Sharon’s heart in such a way that she felt she could only express it through song - a melody of his own to describe how she felt for him. Originally, she had felt embarrassed writing it, but the more she hummed under her breath, thinking of him, the more she was sure it could work. Approaching Raja and Jinkx about it had been easy, and before long, she was stood backstage, giddy about the upcoming performance.

“I hope he loves it.” Sharon said, breathless. She had been pacing their makeshift dressing room behind the taverna’s stage since she had arrived, peeking through the curtain every now and then to see if Justin was still there. He was waiting unfailingly, handsome and patient as can be.

Raja laughed. “If this is what it takes for us to properly meet him again, I’m in. Ready?”

Sharon nodded. Her heart felt as though it would explode as they stepped out, despite the cheering of the little gathered crowd. This was the rawest, realest song she had ever written. Justin would know immediately that she was wearing her heart on her sleeve, hoping he would stay.

They locked eyes as she brought the mic to her lips for her first line. “Kisses of fire…”

Maybe her honesty was a little too on the nose, but Sharon had no time to worry about it now. She could feel Justin’s eyes on her the entire time, and nothing else in the room mattered other than him. He was alone, watching her, taking in every word as though it were gospel from her lips. In bearing her soul, she told him how the thought of losing him was a nightmare, and how she’d never felt so strongly before in her life.

“I’m at the point of no returning,

Kisses of fire, sweet devotion,

Caught in a landslide of emotion…”

“Thank you so much everybody!” Raja and Jinkx yelled, Sharon too wrapped up in Justin’s gaze to notice the screams and shouts of everybody else. They tackled her with their usual post-show hugs and she simply let them, her chest heaving as she gazed into his eyes.

Sat at the table closest to the stage in the taverna, one hand wrapped around his pint glass, Justin was smiling up at her on the stage. Sharon was so exhilarated from the performance that her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest; she was more than happy to collapse into his arms and let him hold her for a while.

“The girls were begging, so…” Sharon dragged Justin towards them, ensuring he kept his arms around her as they moved. “Raja, Jinkx, this is Justin. Now you get a proper introduction.”

Justin extended a hand politely. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Again, I guess.”

“The pleasure is all mine, handsome. And what a lot of pleasure it is,” Raja shook it, her voice dripping with honey. Jinkx laughed.

“Back off, Raj. He’s mine.” Sharon giggled as Jinkx shook his hand.

Raja held up her hands in mock defeat. “Alright, alright, lovebirds, get out of here and take your heart eyes somewhere else. Sharon, baby, do everything I would do.”

Jinkx pulled a face. “Well - almost everything.”

Both Justin and Sharon laughed appreciatively as they began to walk away, wrapped up in one another. Sharon was curled into his side, out of breath and overwhelmed.

“You were amazing, love.” Justin said, and she could hear the grin in his soft tone without even looking at his face.

She couldn’t help but smile as she eased herself out of his embrace, taking his hand and beginning to pull him out of the taverna. Near the beach was a small row of cabins, one of which Sharon favoured and took good care of, so that she could stay there when the weather permitted - as the storms sometimes drove her away from the beach and inland to the shack at the top. She knew they would be undisturbed in her little beach cabin.

“Kiss me,” She breathed, pulling him inside and pushing the door shut with her foot. “Please.”

“If you insist.” Justin replied.

Sharon let out a soft noise as Justin pressed her against the wall, kissing her with a subdued hunger that made her want to melt. His hands were strong on her hips, keeping her pinned as she kissed back with an eagerness that she was almost a bit embarrassed of, one of her hands on his waist and the other tangling in his dark curls and pulling him closer to her. He was gentle, but his kisses tasted like fire, his tongue a hot flame licking into her mouth and making her weak in the knees.

She pulled back for a moment to tug at the hem of his shirt, and he lifted his arms to allow her to remove it before he resumed his passionate exploration of her mouth. Sharon’s hands moved to his chest, admiring his muscles and how soft his skin was, how warm and inviting. Justin maneuvered her carefully to the bed, laying her down against the pillows and pulling away to look down at her with a soft smile.

“What’s that look for?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he answered, “You’re just so beautiful.”

Sharon felt herself blushing, warmth spreading over her cheeks as she withered under his gaze. “Shut up,” she grumbled, trying to pull him down for another kiss, but he wouldn’t budge. Instead, he trailed his fingertips along her collarbone and ran his thumb across her bottom lip, his eyes shining before he leaned down. Sharon’s world was set alight again when Justin kissed her once more, an incredible warmth building between her thighs. She had no doubt or fear in her mind as she pulled her arms out of the sleeves of her dress; she was more than ready.

“You don’t have to-” Justin began as he saw her push the top half of her dress down to her waist, then he stopped speaking altogether. “Oh, fuck, you’re gorgeous… Can I?” His hands hovered in the air and she nodded with a soft smile, encouraging him to cup her breasts gently and rub his thumbs over her nipples, stiff now that they were exposed. Sharon inhaled shakily as his lips moved to kiss down her chest, still circling her nipples as he sucked lightly at the sensitive flesh of her breast. It was nothing like she’d ever felt before and she was so, so sensitive, every small touch from Justin sending a new wave of heat through her body.

“God, fuck, that feels really good,” she gasped, letting out a little squeak when his tongue lapped at her nipple and his lips closed around it, sucking gently. “Shit, Justin…” He looked up at her with a smile, running a hand through his hair.

“You like that?” he asked, his voice soft and husky and so sexy that Sharon could’ve died on the spot. She nodded demurely, her head clouded with desire and a thousand things she’d never felt before. “We don’t have to go further than this if you’re not ready,” he added quietly. Sharon shook her head.

“I’m ready,” she said, and she meant it. Every cell in her body was screaming for Justin, for her to touch him and kiss him and be close to him; she wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anyone. “Just… remember that I’ve never done this before,” she requested, flushed.

Justin smiled warmly, kissing her cheek. “I’ll guide you through it, baby. I promise.”

Sharon nodded and watched with half-lidded eyes as he undid his belt and slid his trousers off, kicking them away before moving back to kiss her again. Her flowing dress usually made her feel light and free but in this moment it was constricting, a barrier between her and Justin. It had to go. She pushed it further down, over her hips and all the way down her legs until she could toss it to the floor and wrap her legs around Justin’s hips.

Her mother’s version of sex education had been to tell Sharon that making love was a sacred act between a married couple, performed only to produce a child. Raja and Jinkx had just told her to “go with the flow,” so she really couldn’t have been much more clueless. Still, it seemed as though her body was finding a natural rhythm in the way that she rocked her hips against Justin’s; it felt wonderful and unfamiliar and absolutely amazing. Still, it wasn’t enough– two layers of fabric still separated them, and it was clear that Justin was taking it much slower with her than he’d like to, in the interest of ensuring her comfort.

“What do you want, love?” he asked sweetly, his voice low in her ear. Sharon couldn’t help but whine.

“Touch me,” she insisted, “Need you.”

Justin nodded, hooking his long fingers in the waistband of her sensible cotton panties and slowly, slowly dragging them down her legs. When they were off, she squirmed a little, feeling exposed and a bit self-conscious. No one had ever seen her like this.

“Would it help if I took mine off too?” he offered with another dazzling smile. Sharon nodded, and soon he was just as naked as she was. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of him, and he flushed when her gaze remained firmly glued between his legs.

“Holy…” she whispered, still staring in awe at him. Justin’s cheeks reddened; while he wasn’t a vain man, he was aware that he was rather well-endowed. He was also more aroused than he’d ever been in his life at the thought of being with Sharon, this goddess who walked the earth and had the voice of an angel and kissed him like a woman starved.

“Can I touch you?” he whispered. Sharon bit her lip, her blue eyes filled with hazy lust as she nodded and spread her legs. Justin inhaled softly, completely and utterly spellbound by the beautiful woman before him. He leaned down to kiss her sweetly, trailing a hand along her inner thigh and moving closer and closer to where she wanted his hand to be. He stroked the soft blonde curls between her legs, and then he trailed his index finger down over her seam with the lightest of touches. Sharon let out a soft noise against his mouth, a little sigh of pleasure that grew into a dirty whimper as he lightly rubbed two fingers over her outer lips before running them between her folds.

“You’re so wet,” he said softly, a smile playing on his perfect lips as he continued to run his fingers between her sensitive inner labia. She flushed.

“Is that… is that a good thing?” she asked, a little nervous. Justin chuckled fondly.

“It’s a very good thing,” he promised, moving his thumb to circle a spot that made Sharon’s legs shake unexpectedly. She whimpered again, louder this time, as he touched her there again and pleasure surged through her veins. “Does that feel nice?”

“So fucking nice,” she breathed, arching her back as the tip of his finger circled her entrance.

“Can I go inside, baby?” he murmured, lips brushing the corner of her mouth. She felt a little thrum of anxiety at the newness of it all and the good old Catholic fear of no longer being a virgin, but she voiced her consent all the same. Religion was the last thing on her mind right now– nothing could be sinful when it felt this right. Justin kissed her deeply as he eased the tip of his index finger into her, meeting a bit of resistance. “You doing okay?”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, “I need more.”

Justin let out a soft laugh at that, kissing her lips. “Needy girl,” he teased, sliding deeper inside her and gently crooking his finger up against her soft inside against the spot he knew would make stars burst behind her eyelids. Sure enough, she let out a shaky whimper against his lips, and he continued to work her sweetly until she was ready for a second finger. Her walls grasped around his fingers greedily, never quite satisfied, and she was trembling and moaning by the time he filled her with three.

“Justin,” she begged, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes at how good she felt, so small and delicate and safe in his arms. “I want you,” she whispered, “I want all of you.”

“You have all of me,” he promised, carefully withdrawing his fingers to line up with her entrance. “Are you ready for me, baby? You can say no. We can stop.”

“More than ready,” she mumbled. “Need you.”

His lips found hers again as he slowly, carefully pressed into her warmth, kissing her so tenderly she thought she might melt. It was almost overwhelming, the slickness of his cock and the warmth of his mouth and the stretch she felt as he slowly, slowly, slowly filled her, inch by delicious inch. Nothing in the world had ever felt this good, she was sure of it, for the way his tongue danced over her lips and his hands stroked her skin felt like heaven on earth. He was so gentle and caring with her, treating her like she was something precious, and she felt nothing but bliss as he bottomed out.

“Fuck,” she gasped, “You’re so big.”

Instantly an expression of worry fell over his handsome features. “Are you okay?” he asked frantically. She laughed, breathless, taking his hands in hers and nodding.

“I’m fine. I feel… fuck, I feel amazing. I feel so good, baby, hgn.” Justin chuckled, shaking a curl out of his face and leaning down to brush his lips against hers.

“Are you okay if I start moving?” he murmured against her cheek, trying his hardest not to be overwhelmed by the feeling of her around him. Sharon let out a soft whimper as she felt his thumb ghost over her clit, and moaned out loud when her involuntary clench made her squeeze around him. Justin seemed equally affected by this, his head tipping back slightly and a whispery moan leaving his lips.

“Fuck, yes, please start moving,” she begged, pulling his body against hers and placing a trail of sloppy kisses down his neck. “Need you to fuck me.” Justin bit his lip at the words, nodding as he pulled back slightly before pushing back in. As he continued the pattern, starting to thrust into Sharon slowly, he kept his eyes on her face for any sign of discomfort from her. There were none, however, and he looked on fondly as pleasure painted itself over Sharon’s features.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured as he picked up the pace, and watched a rosy blush appear on her cheeks.

“You too,” she replied, her voice a strained whimper from trying not to make too much noise. Justin noticed, and moved a hand up to lightly squeeze one of her breasts.

“You can make as much noise as you want to, Sharon,” he told her, purposefully punctuating his sentence with a hard thrust that made her cry out.

“Fuck! Justin, baby, do that again,” she pleaded, and moaned loudly when he complied. “Holy shit, you feel so fucking good…”

Justin smiled. “Watch your language, missy,” he teased, and Sharon’s responding laugh was cut short by a long, high-pitched whine as Justin repeatedly hit the spot inside her that made her head spin. He was still rubbing her clit with his thumb, his movements starting to get messier as he neared the edge, and he attached his lips to Sharon’s neck in order to stifle his whimpers as ecstasy overtook his senses..

Sharon gasped as she felt him beginning to unravel, still working sloppy circles around her bud and thrusting his hips into her, and she felt her whole body tensing up. Nothing had ever felt so amazing, no one had ever made her feel this good before, she’d never experienced anything even close to this. She bucked her hips desperately and Justin chuckled against her neck, speeding up to push them both to the precipice. Sharon felt the coil snap and let out a long cry as she was completely engulfed by pleasure unlike anything she’d ever known, holding Justin close to her and hugging him tight. Justin swore under his breath as he too fell over the edge, praising her name as he filled her and she became the only person in the world, the only feeling in the world.

“God,” Sharon choked out as she came down from her high, “Fuck. Oh my god, Justin, fuck.” He laughed, carefully pulling out and flopping down beside her, running his fingers through her hair.

“So, not too bad?” he joked. She attempted to give him a venomous look, but her swollen lips and flushed cheeks stopped her from looking anything but adorable. “You’re fucking amazing, Sharon, I mean that.”

Sharon bit back a smile, moving so that she could fit into his arms and press against him tightly. He wrapped his arms around her, one hand resting on her abdomen, and for the first time in her life, Sharon had an overwhelming feeling that this was her home. Justin was her home.

Raja and Jinkx seemed to cotton on extremely quickly that Sharon’s blossoming relationship with Justin was no ordinary fling, as theirs often were. From the moment she had told them about their night together, her eyes shining like she’d entered an entirely new world, they could tell she had changed. She was brighter, happier, filled with a lust for life that she had never had before. Even with the rest of their nights together - as mindless and animalistic or as soft and tender as she described - were tinged with an atmosphere of love, a gentleness that suggested they truly cared about one another.

When they were together, Sharon felt whole. She could be her authentic self and he loved every part of her, devoted all of his time to her. Every night, he made the trip across from the mainland to the island to watch the girls perform, and every night, after their passionate lovemaking in her cabin, he escorted Sharon home too. He was ever the gentleman.

“One hell of a show, don’t you think?” Sharon’s voice was breathless. She almost collapsed into his arms, tipsy and giggling as he caught her. Justin grinned. “One hell of a costume. You look like a star.” She winked. “Justin, you flatter me. You think white’s my colour?” Justin threw back his head and laughed. “As if. White is for angels, and you’re certainly not one of those. I could see you in red, like the devil… but white is nice in this instance.” “White for purity,” Sharon mocked. “Like a white wedding! God, could you imagine? Me in some stupid huge gown with a veil to show my virginal goodness?” At that, both of them snorted. The night was dark, lit up by strings of lights across the open bar. It felt like the kind of night where anything was possible. Where love and life and light intermingled freely, barred by nothing. A warm summer breeze blew Sharon’s hair away from her face. “Here comes the bride, all dressed in whiteee…” Justin sang, twirling Sharon around before pulling her into his chest. “You’re no bride, are you?” She shook her head, kissing under his jaw. “Never. I think you’re crazy if you think marriage is cool. I think I’d get bored. The girls and I always say that marriage is an institution… for people who belong in an institution.” Justin shifted, so both his arms were wrapped around Sharon from behind. She relaxed into him. “I’m hurt, Needles. I suppose you’re too much of a rockstar, huh.” He jabbed her in the side, and she squealed, ticklish. “If you don’t give me a reason to get bored and leave, then I won’t.” She told him. Justin smiled. “If you keep singing in outfits like this, I’ll never leave. There’s no way I could get bored of this.”

“Good.” Sharon twisted, tilting her head so she could meet his lips in a sweet kiss. “I don’t ever want you to leave. I want you to stay here with me, forever.”

She sighed, her euphoric mood dropping slightly. “I don’t want to go home tonight. I don’t want tonight to end. I want to stay here and build a brand new life. I can’t go back there.”

Justin kissed her hand. “Patience, love. I’ll take you home, and then you can tell your mom that you’re staying with Raja for the weekend. Then I can have you all to myself.”

Sharon hummed. “I like that idea… If only we had longer. For you to make your choice.”

As quickly as she could, Sharon ducked into the bathroom in Maria’s tavern and changed, swapping her sequined lycra and outlandish makeup for her dungarees - the very ones he had bought for her. Justin smiled softly at her bare face, slightly pink from scrubbing, and wrapped his arms around her as they left.

They rowed leisurely, watching in fascination how the moonlight danced along the surface of the water. Every moment they spent together felt perfect. Nothing could go wrong, and Sharon knew it from the bottom of her heart. They were timeless.

Back on the mainland, Justin pulled Sharon close to him, walking with her held safely in his embrace. She leaned into him, her heart twisting painfully as they approached her house. Going inside meant another end to another perfect night. It meant having to say goodbye, having to wait the duration of a long night alone before she could see him again. It meant having to hide the blurry photographs they had taken together, for fear that her mother would walk in and find them as she lay there wishing he was beside her. Going inside meant letting go of her paradise, just for a while.

“I can’t.” She whispered, turning and burying her face in Justin’s shirt. He stroked her back, gently soothing her as he stared at the path leading to her front door.

“You can.” He promised. “You’re the strongest person I know. And tomorrow morning, as early as you can stand it, I’ll be there at the docks, waiting for you.”

Sharon sniffled.

“I know, I know.” He said softly. “I don’t want to let go either. I’ll spend all night in that stupid hotel bed, wishing it was your cabin by the sea with you there next to me. But if we just hang in there-”

She cut him off. “I love you.”

“Then we can- what?”

“I love you.” She repeated, lifting her slightly-teary face from out of Justin’s shirt so that her voice was no longer muffled by the fabric. “I love you.”

It was Justin’s turn to be overcome with tears. His eyes shone in the moonlight as he dabbed under his eyes, never tearing his gaze away from Sharon’s face.

“God… I love you too. I love you so much, Sharon. I love you… more than anything.”

With a wry smile, she pulled away, her hand lingering in his for just a moment too long before she turned her back. Before letting her leave, he kissed her forehead and whispered inaudible encouragement to her, not wanting the moment to pass.

“Goodnight, Justin.”

Then he was gone, heading back to his own hotel room as Sharon climbed the stairs, the judgement of all the crosses and Jesus figures heavier than ever. The rosary that hung on Sharon’s bedpost glared at her as she sat in front of her mirror, silently noting the bruises left by Justin’s heated kisses on her neck and chest.

Despite the darkness that came with being at home, Sharon’s heart felt light. She was in love, and ahead of her lay a weekend of just her and Justin, alone together. In the past six weeks, he had entered her life and turned everything upside-down. Her heart, her soul, her dreams - everything belonged to him. The carefree nature within her had finally been unlocked, properly accessed by somebody who truly cared about her. Everything was indescribably perfect.

Fernando had warned Sharon that a storm was on the way. She had no idea how he knew - the sky was as clear as it had ever been, the sea as tranquil and calm as she had ever seen it - but he insisted.

“Deep trouble.” He had said, in his broken English. “Protect self.”

Bizarrely, the man was never wrong, so Sharon decided to trust him. Rather than her little cabin on the beach, she trekked up to the shack at the top of the island, tugging on Justin’s hand in an attempt to get him to match her speed. In the end, he quelled her excitement by simply sweeping her off of her feet and carrying her bridal-style for the rest of the way. Despite the demands to be set free amid her squeals and giggles, Justin didn’t relent until they had reached the shack, kissing the tip of her nose as he placed her down.

“You are so ridiculous.” She told him.

“I love you too.” He blew a kiss in response, which Sharon pretended to catch as they walked inside, Justin wheeling his suitcase behind him.

“So,” He commented, leaving it open beside the mattress as he stretched himself out upon it. “This is our romantic hideaway for the weekend.”

Sharon flopped down next to him, shoving him for his dumb remarks. “Hey! Give me ten years and this place will be golden.”

Above them, half of the stairwell crumbled and landed in splintered piles of wood in the middle of the floor. Justin snickered.

“Alright! Maybe twenty years. Whatever.” Sharon laughed. “God, the sooner I make this place liveable… we don’t ever have to leave. You, and me… we could stay here forever.”

She shifted, curling her body against Justin’s and snuggling into his arms. Instinctively, he pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face into her hair.

“This is nice,” He said, his voice muffled. “You and me, alone together.”

Sharon hummed contentedly in response.

“It’s a shame we’re gonna be here for so long, though…” He teased, rubbing up and down her back. “How on earth are we gonna fill all this time?”

In all honesty, they both knew that all the time in the world would never be enough for them. It seemed that an eternity would never be enough to satisfy them, their needs, their sexual desire and insatiable need to discover everything about the other. Sharon wanted to hold him, to feel him inside her, to feel him gripping onto her hips like a lifeline. She wanted to know his deepest secrets, to be there to wipe his tears away, to see the good, bad and ugly of Justin. She knew she would love all parts of him, if only they had the time to share it all.

“I have a few ideas,” She breathed, slotting her leg between his thighs. “A whole weekend of this.”

She slowly leaned down, kissing him softly. He smelt like home and his hands instantly moved, one cupping her ass and the other holding her face close to his.

“I,” He panted, “Love,” he kissed her neck, “You.”

They’d said it before, but every time he said those words it felt like the first time. Sharon shivered with pleasure, the sensation a blissful mixture of his words and his touch.

Many times they had been rough, bordering on vicious as the desperation to feel the other had consumed them, leaving dark bruises from searing kisses on sensitive skin. They’d left marks from the tightness of their grips, or laid out of breath after what could only be described as a fit of passion, but this time was different. This time was slower, softer, gentler. It would grow rougher with time but for now, it was sweet and tender. Sharon smiled into every kiss, freely coming undone with Justin’s touch.

“My love,” Justin breathed, kissing along her stomach as he made his way up to meet her lips. “My life… God. I am so in love with you.”

“No God,” Sharon arched her back in pleasure. “Just you. Just you and me, no one else.”

Justin pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Just me and you. Forever.”

#rpdr fanfiction #purecamp #our last summer #shalaska #sharon needles #alaska thunderfuck #raja gemini #jinkx monsoon #smut #group fic #submission #m/f au #mamma mia au

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ineffablecolors · 5 years

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CSJJ Day 12: Not One of Those Lives

I’ll try to keep this brief (and probably fail). First, I have to thank everyone who has read and enjoyed this verse - it is most certainly my favourite thing I’ve ever written and all the love and support and excitement for it brings me so much joy and inspires me to keep adding to it. And I’ve added quite a bit - this is the most I’ve worked on a OS/part so I hope you like it and thank you - you are magical and truly my muses!

Second, thank you to @csjanuaryjoy and everyone involved in it (especially all the gorgeous ladies in the Discord chat that has also added so much joy to my January!) - you are all so talented and inspiring and I haven’t read a single fic written for this that hasn’t melted my heart!

Not One of Those Stories was written for last year’s CS January Joy but you do not have to necessarily read any of the previous 4 parts to get this one (but I’ve heard they are not too bad).

“So she never used to rent nice apartments because she knew she’d be vacating them at some point anyway. She never used to buy the extra fluffy blankets and pillows because she knew they took a lot of space when moving. She never used to get the fruit that caught her eye at the market because of some irrational fear that it will spoil before she even got the chance to eat it. She never got a dress she truly wanted to own because of the very rational fear that her next perp might ruin it to hell and the very rational assumption that she won’t be going on any dates she would want to dress up for.

Emma Swan had learnt her lesson. She didn’t get to keep things like that. Hers was not one of those lives.“

Not One of Those Lives; ~ 14,500 words; FF.NET @icecubelotr44 || AO3

About 8 years into her existence Emma Swan learnt how to navigate life. From then on – well, it wasn’t easy but at least it was manageable, at least she didn’t make a fool of herself and she didn’t let others make a fool of her either.

The trick was to accept that, while she might have good things from time to time, she never got to keep them. Because everyone lucked out from time to time, even Emma. It’s not statistically possible to be dealt a bad hand every single time, every day of your life. Emma caught a break on occasion as well, it’s just that her breaks never seemed to last.

A fair newborn baby girl Emma should have been out of the system in no time. And she was. And then she was back. 3 years old and carrying the damning brand of the “returned”.

She had a family – one she hadn’t even known wasn’t her own, and then she didn’t. She was a family member and then she was unsatisfactory (unneeded) merchandise. And the thing about returned merchandise is that it’s very hard to resell. You try telling people that the previous “owners” just decided to produce their own merchandise. Everybody wonders what the problem was, what was wrong with her. No one wants someone else’s sloppy seconds.

She remembers that phrase like it was thrown at her yesterday and not 27 years ago. She still perfectly recalls the curled lip of the little girl, the inflection on the words. Sloppy seconds. That was her.

It took her another year to learn that all important lesson but yes, at the ripe age of 8, Emma Swan thought she’d found the answer to her life. She watched the little blonde cherubs that had never been brought back with the receipt get into the white SUVs of their new families and knew hers was simply not one of those lives.

She watched the girls in her school showing off their pencil cases and backpacks to each other – the brands that were in, with the most popular fictional characters on them. (She used the box from some colouring pens as a pencil case.) She watched the kids who sat together at recess – their lunchboxes colourful and full to the brim.

Later she watched men running around cars to open doors for their wives or girlfriends and tried to roll her eyes and scoff. (Neal ran around the Bug alright, whenever he was in a rush to get inside so they wouldn’t get caught by another guard in another convenience store.) She watched couples inside restaurants, sharing intimate smiles over candlelight.

Those pretty, colourful and well-lit lives were not hers to have.

Frankly, the system can fuck you up in a myriad of ways. Emma went through some shit but she managed to avoid the worst of it. A few hang-ups here and there are nothing to cry about, if you ask her.

So she never used to rent nice apartments because she knew she’d be vacating them at some point anyway. She never used to buy the extra fluffy blankets and pillows because she knew she’d only have to constantly drag them around. She never used to get the fruit that caught her eye at the market because of some irrational fear that it will spoil before she even got the chance to eat it. She never got a dress she truly wanted to own because of the very rational fear that her next perp might ruin it to hell and the very rational assumption that she won’t be going on any dates she would want to dress up for.

Emma Swan had learnt her lesson. She didn’t get to keep things like that. Hers was not one of those lives.

Emma Swan is carrying a shopping bag containing a dress that she won’t fit into for at least another five months. It’s a soft pink, elegant, billowing skirt and lovely lacework at the hem. It’s a dress made for an evening out and she does not regret buying it.

What she does regret is pulling this stubborn shit on Killian and insisting that she will finish off the month and then stop going into work.

It’s December, it’s freezing, she is 7 months pregnant and she had fuck all to do at the office all day. Now her feet are cold and her back hurts and she just wants to get home and not think about life lessons that she has been gradually unlearning.

She might have bought the dress to make a point. To fate or the universe or the snotty shopping assistant that was looking at her like she’ll never fit into a dress like that again. It might have cost as much as half of all her other dresses combined. She doesn’t have that many. It’s not that bad. She was making a point.

She sighs in relief at the sight of their apartment building. Then once inside she groans at the sight of the staircase.

“Sure, let’s get the place without an elevator. Cardio is good for you. It will help us stay in shape. Ugh. Idiots.”

The fact that she actually considers calling Killian and making him come down to carry her up the stairs the way he has threatened to do a couple of times already is testament to exactly how absolutely exhausted she is. It takes her twice as long as it should to reach their door.

When she walks in, she is surprised she couldn’t feel the heat radiating off said door.

“God, Killian. What’s going on here?”

He comes out of the kitchen, wiping his hand on his sweatpants before he cups her cheek and brings her into a soft kiss.

And here we have the reason Emma Swan has gone back on the life philosophy she’d held since she was 8 years old.

Killian Jones is the very best thing that’s happened to her and she decided some time ago that she is most definitely keeping him.

Emma hums and pulls back, only to be greeted with a frown instead of the smile she was expecting.

She has a love/hate relationship with the fact that Killian never fails to greet her with a kiss when either of them comes home. Alright, mostly just a love relationship but it leaves her all melty and totally unprepared for when it turns out that he is actually in a mood.

“You’re chilled. Please tell me you took a cab home?”

She tries not to cringe and smiles innocently instead.

“I took the subway?”

“Emma.”

It’s not a whine, Killian doesn’t really do whining. It’s worse – it’s deep and gruff and a little frustrated and probably has the exact opposite effect on her to the one he was aiming for.

“I am not taking the Bug out of hibernation or hailing a cab for a few blocks,” she slides into his personal space as much as her baby bump allows. “Look on the positive side, my love – you get to warm me up now.”

Killian gives her a look that clearly says that he is neither amused, not deterred.

“Oh, I will.”

He takes off her hat and murmurs his displeasure when she tries to take her coat off herself. Her scarf goes and then the coat. He glowers at her gloveless hands and she tries on another one of those innocent smiles. Nothing. Damn.

“I really gotta start preparing for the role of the fun parent,” she mutters half to herself.

Killian bends down without a comment and tugs lightly on one of her boots, only lifting her foot when her hand has settled securely on his back, leaning most of her weight on him. She furrows her brow and scrunches up her nose, wondering if her feet smell after a day in thermo socks and winter boots. They should really get one of those small shoe cupboards for the hallway – just so she can sit on them and take her own damn shoes off. She switches hands when he switches feet and can’t help but wiggle her toes happily in the soft slippers.

She is promptly taken to the couch and covered with a throw blanket.

“Really now?”

His look advises against her trying to get up. It’s only as Killian heads to the kitchen and Emma realizes how hot she is that she remembers her initial surprise.

“Why does it feel like our flat is a walk-in oven?”

“Because you were walking outside in the frigid cold for five blocks.”

“This is not human temperature,” she yells in the general direction of the kitchen even though she knows it really annoys him when she insists on having a conversation from separate rooms – she is really not helping her case.

“I assure you, Swan” his head pops around the corner and really, she’ll argue that the kitchen and living room are basically one big room anyway. “It is the outside temperature that is not advisable for humans.”

“And boiling alive is all the rage this season?”

He is gone. Emma sighs and finally fully sinks into the couch. OK, so this is not terrible for her aching back and tired feet but he really doesn’t need to know how much she hated making the trip from the subway. Or going to work in general.

She feels the movement inside her seconds before the light kicks start. Her hands settle over the spot where their baby is making her presence known.

“Is someone happy to be home?”

She twists her head around to find Killian leaning over the back the couch, his hand holding out a mug of tea. She keeps one hand on her daughter and wraps the other around the warm porcelain.

“She missed you.”

“Oh?” he struggles to go on with his teasing despite the smile that’s deepening the lines around his mouth. “Is she the only one?”

And Emma is about to pick up his tone and the little glint in his eye and tease right back, and then just like that she feels her own eyes fill with tears instead.

“No. And I’m not going into work anymore. I’m not going out at all.”

“Emma?”

He is beside her in a second, taking her mug again and setting it on the coffee table with a hasty thud before he pulls her into him. She is all too willing to bury her still cold nose in the scorching heat of his neck, her hands wrapping all the way around him.

“Shhh. Swan, what’s wrong? I’m sorry I was a pain—“

She shakes her head against him, squeezing him tighter.

“No, no, I— I was bored and restless and uncomfortable all day. And I just sat behind my stupid desk and that chair is absolute hell and my feet have been cold all day and then on the way home and—“

She sniffs a little, trying to hold back the tears from actually falling. Killian has never once used the phrase “pregnancy hormones” but Emma uses it plenty.

“And that means she was cold,” she whispers against his warm skin and can’t help thinking that their daughter would never be cold, if she was with Killian all the time.

“Oh, Emma. You know that’s not true.”

“Yes, it is.”

He says okay and continues to rub her back with his stump and her belly with his hand until both girls calm down and only then he goes back to contradict her.

“Darling, it is biologically impossible for her to have been cold. It is also impossible because you’ll never let that happen.”

“But I did.”

“Swan—“

“Why am I still going to work?”

That shuts him up. They both know Killian suggested that she start her maternity leave a month ago. They both know the #1 reason he sold his cabin in Storybrooke in a hurry – even outranking his definite lack of desire to ever go back – was that she will be able to take as much time off work as she wants when the baby comes.

“Why am I out in freaking December?”

He frowns at that.

“Swan, I know you, you’ll go stir crazy, if you—“

“What does it matter? So I go a little crazy? This is already risky ‘cause I’m over 30—“

“The doctor said—“

“I’m keeping her! We are—“

“What are you on about? When was this even a question?”

There is a tinge of panic mixed in with his confusion now. Almost unnoticeable, unless you are Emma, unless being attuned to Killian’s emotions is one of your life goals.

“No, never, I— not like that, I just— Oh, God. Killian, I…”

She drops her forehead on his shoulder and breathes deeply, grateful that his arms are still around her, grateful that he hasn’t pulled back in his confusion.

“I was just…,” she sighs heavily and wraps her arms around his left bicep, rolling her head back and forth, trying to order her thoughts. “My mind’s been so… all day. And I guess I’ve been thinking how nothing good ever lasts for me and... I freaked out. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, love. I think I’m still ahead in the freak outs tally.”

She snorts and it’s choked and watery and she reaches up to wipe his shoulder.

“Also,” she feels the rough pad of Killian’s finger under her chin, angling her head to the side and up until she meets his gaze. “I thought I classified as a good thing that’s currently lasting.”

He sounds almost shy about it and she will laugh, if she wasn’t worried that laughing might lead to crying. So she sighs instead and smiles in a way that she thinks most people will probably define as smitten.

“Yeah, we’re just hoping you’re not the exception that proves the rule or something.”

“Emma—”

“I know, I know,” she straightens a little and Killian smooths out her hair and tucks it behind her ears.

“Everything is going to be alright. We’re going to keep you both warm and happy over the winter and in a couple of months you’ll have another exception to your frankly outrageous rule.”

Her hands settle on his cheeks, the stubble prickling her pink and oversensitive fingers and she drops her forehead to his and smiles.

“I’ll call my boss tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to rush—”

“No, really, I’m not… even if I had actual work to do, there’s no way I’ll be able to concentrate. All I can think about is if we need more baby bottles.”

“We have four packs of different baby bottles.”

“I know, I’m surprised I didn’t buy another one today.”

“You didn’t?”

She pinches his left ear.

“No. I bought a dress I might never fit into again.”

Killian’s eyes darken a little and he leans further into her, his hand sliding down her spine and boldly helping itself to some of her ass.

“Tell me more.”

“About the dress I won’t fit into?”

“It matters not, darling. If you don’t fit into it, you’ll just be naked that much sooner.”

Her burst of laughter is probably not the reaction he was going for but it seems to satisfy him nonetheless.

///

She finishes her tea and manages to talk Killian into dinner on the couch, using how warm and comfy she is as her unbeatable arguments. Now her feet are tucked under his thigh and she is appreciating the way he rubs her calves and only half paying attention to what Kevin McAlister is doing on her laptop.

“So, Christmas?”

Killian blinks at her and she pushes up the black frames that have almost slid off his nose.

“You want to do something different?”

“Well, I’m afraid we’re gonna have to break the wine and tragic backstories tradition.”

“Thank the gods, I was running out of ruined relationships to tell you about.”

“Ha ha.”

Actually Emma has always been quite proud of how non-Grinchy she and Killian are. Sure, they’re not overly zealous about it and haven’t really bothered with a tree or many decorations the last couple of years but for the most part they seem to have avoided letting their aloneness and their loneliness spoil the family holiday for them completely.

“I actually had an idea of sorts,” Killian lets go of her leg and tugs on his beard.

It’s getting long again. She kinda likes it – all the black and white and ginger mesh together beautifully.

Emma bends her knees further and shuffles closer, propping her elbows on her knees and her chin on her palms. She looks up at her boyfriend and blinks expectantly. He huffs in undisguised amusement and cards his fingers through her hair.

“I was thinking that we’re rather lowkey about the whole holiday.”

“We specifically put on Home Alone for the second night in a row and last week you tried to make me a peppermint hot chocolate.”

“I did make you a peppermint hot chocolate, the fact that you dubbed it “totally gross” is another matter altogether.”

“Totally the same matter,” she fires back even as she leans her head to the side so his hand can slip lower and massage her neck. “I eat like a billion times better thanks to you but your taste in hot drinks is shit, my love.”

“That is not at all what you said the first time I made you a proper Irish coffee.”

Killian might not whine but Emma most certainly does. It’s plaintive and just a little angry.

“Why would you say that right now? Coffee and alcohol are two of the things I miss the most.”

He leans over and replaces his fingers with his lips, leaving a damp trail along the curve of her neck.

“My apologies, Swan, but there are other Irish things you can have any time you wish.”

She hums in faux contemplation.

Emma would be a shameless liar if she said she didn’t freak out a bit around the fifth month of her pregnancy when she realized exactly how limited their sex life was about to get and exactly how unsexy some parts of her were already getting. If Killian’s indignation and reassurances took her 70-75% of the way to being secure in her sex appeal again, his sex drive (and her own for that matter) over the last couple of months have definitely boosted her up to around 90%.

So she untucks her feet (still in their Christmas-y socks – what is he even on about – they have holiday spirit to spare) from under Killian and carefully swings one leg over him, adjusting herself so she doesn’t completely crush him but she can press her full breasts (that side effect she isn’t complaining about) against his chest.

“Tell me the thing first and then I’ll take a closer look at those things.”

“So demanding.”

“Killian.”

“Alright, alright. Hmm, just the short version or…”

His fingers come up to play with the zipper of her hoodie and she can feel his left forearm tapping a nervous rhythm against his own thigh so she reaches out and grabs both, bring their hands between them. Killian tugs her knuckles to his lips and she mirrors the action with his left arm. His breath hitches a little. Emma has his stump all mapped out and she can navigate with almost perfect accuracy the parts that have no feeling in them and the little spots that are almost hypersensitive.

“Long version. You know I always want the long version.”

He snaps his slackened jaw shut and his eyebrow shoots up and yeah, alright, she walked right into that one.

The thing is, she is still caught by surprise sometimes. Turns out Killian Jones likes few things better than a good innuendo. Emma thinks it started only after they moved out of Storybrooke though she can’t remember the precise moment. What she does remember is sliding to the floor from too much laughter, Killian leaning on the kitchen counter and looking down at her with sparkling eyes and her asking where on earth he came up with that stuff. She remembers the way the skin under his scruff reddened slightly, the way he cleared his throat and focused on his drumming fingers – caught somewhere between embarrassment and amusement – as he joked that it’s an old skill she has made him rediscover. She remembers that last part – coupled with his looking at her from under his lashes and biting his lip – working for him better than most of the ridiculous innuendoes.

By now she is perfectly capable of recognizing the signs – the way his brows twitch, the mischievous little sparkle brightening his blue eyes, the way his tongue pokes out and swipes over his chapped lips. Basically the way he looks right about now.

“Focus, my love,” she chastises. “Storytime first, playtime after.”

“How do you know there’s a story to it?”

“You’re nervous about it.”

He huffs and the eyebrows settle, his eyes flickering all over the room for a moment.

“It’s not… it’s not nervous per se.”

She lifts a skeptical eyebrow.

“I just want you to tell me honestly, if it sounds silly. I don’t want you to automatically agree because there is a sentimental aspect to it.”

She narrows her eyes.

“Killian?”

“Mm?”

“Remember the first snow last year?”

“Errr… I suppose?”

“Remember telling me about how you and Liam used to bury each other under the snow – the way normal people bury each other under sand on the beach – to see which one of you will last longer?”

He rolls his eyes and sighs.

“Do you?”

“Yes, Swan, I remember. You made that same “normal people” point back then.”

“And did I agree to do that with you?”

“You most certainly did not.”

“Proceed.”

He gives her a look and she just grins smugly, fully aware that he is more than satisfied with the point she has made, even if he is all huffy about the way she made it.

“Alright. Well… I’m a little fuzzy on the details. It might have been Liam she did it with and I just helped. Or it might have even been both of us. But… I’m pretty confident it was me and my mum. I think we only did it for a couple of years before she took ill and all.”

She squeezes his hand and nods. It seems they simply can’t do Christmas time without some backstorytelling. Wine or no wine.

“The house wasn’t large by any stretch of the imagination but there were still plenty of brilliant hiding places. And I remember searching for hours sometimes. I think she gave me hints sometimes. Like a game of hot and cold?”

“What were you looking for?”

“Christmas gifts.”

“Oh.”

“Aye. I… I think she hid a bunch of them – little things really, just… a lolly, a pair of socks – things like that. Yes, it might’ve been both Liam and I looking… There was always something hidden around the house, every day of the week leading up to Christmas. Or maybe just for a few days— I don’t—“

He shakes his head and frowns at his inability to recall the obviously happy memory completely. Emma feels her heart clench a little – she knows the feeling. Some of her happy memories are nothing more than vague feelings of warmth, yet she can still recite word for word the cruel words thrown at her 7-year-old self. It’s not fair.

“No matter, it’s just that… I was putting a book away the other day and I thought “this would make a good hiding place for a present”. Yet it was obviously too small to hide Christmas gifts. And then I remembered that game. The search, the excitement.”

“It sounds like a super sweet thing to do.”

“Aye. And I was thinking we could do it for…” his hand lets go of hers to settle over her belly.

Emma looks down and then her eyes shoot back up. Her eagerness must be plain to see because Killian grins happily back at her.

“Yeah?”

“Yes! Totally! We can start with really easy places when she is little and then make it harder and harder until she is too old to bother with us.”

Killian laughs her favourite laugh – deep and joyful and absolutely unrestrained.

“That’s the idea, yes.”

“It’s brilliant.”

“Well, I’m glad you think so, love. Because I was also thinking we could test it out on you.”

“On me?”

Killian nods simply.

“There are only about five days till Christmas but if you’re amenable, I might be prepared with your first couple of gifts.”

“Really?”

“Mm, I thought what’s the harm – if you didn’t want to play, I’ll just give them to you on Christmas. And they’re nothing special, just—”

“But I’m not prepared.”

“Prepared?”

“With tiny presents for you.”

Killian laughs again and smiles at her.

“Darling, I’m a bit too old to play hot and cold. Or to receive multiple gifts on Christmas.”

“Well, that’s bullshit.”

“Swear jar.”

“Ugh, whatever. She can’t even hear me yet.”

“Oh but she can hear when I tell her bedtime stories?”

“Yeah ‘cause your voice is deeper and it’s… like… different wavelengths.”

Killian lifts an unimpressed eyebrow and just nods in the general direction of their brand new swear jar.

“Fine. Whatever. But if I’m scavengerhunting for gifts then so are you and that’s that.”

“And if we pick the same places? We only have so many rooms.”

“So we just laugh at how cute we are and pick different places.”

Killian sighs in a way that always signals that he knows he has lost the argument but is not ready to admit it just yet.

“You’ll have to worry about finding me things and—“

“No, I won’t, I love buying you presents.”

Another sigh.

“Swan.”

“What?”

“I wanted to do this for you.”

“Yeah, I can see that, my love. And it’s so stinking cute I’m pretty sure I haven’t processed it yet.”

He chuckles and slides his hand down to her lower back, pressing gently to bring her closer for a kiss. She keeps just out of reach.

“I just feel like it’s gonna be even more fun, if we both get to play the kid.”

“Alright then. But I warn you I have already found a couple of marvelous hiding places. If you turn this into some sort of competition, all you’re going to do is embarrass yourself.”

She gasps in indignation and pulls away to glare into his laughing eyes.

“Oh, yeah? See if the first thing I hide aren’t your glasses. Then we’ll see who’ll be embarrassed, old man.”

“Experienced, Swan. Us old people prefer the term “experienced”.”

“Do you now? And do you have anything to back up that “term” with?” she punctuates her questions with the slow grind of her hips against his and smirks triumphantly at Killian’s gulp.

“Indeed.”

His grip on her tightens, wrapping her legs more securely around his waist and he whispers a raspy “hold on” in her ear before he stands up with a groan.

“Killian!”

Her hands clamp around him and her thighs squeeze him in a vice grip even though she knows he just needs to release them and she’ll safely reach the ground.

“Now. About those Irish delicacies we were discussing,” he huffs into her shoulder and turns in the direction of their bedroom.

“Put me down. You’ll fuck up your back again.”

“Swear jar.”

“Killiaaan.”

“Swan, you’re toying with my fragile male ego.”

“You don’t have a fragile male ego. You are 5.9 and have a fully grown beard and a very nice cock.”

His laughter shakes them both.

“No abs though. Also – swear jar.”

“Cock is not a swear word. Abs are overrated.”

Her arms tighten automatically around his neck as Killian starts slowly lowering her down onto their bed.

“So says you.”

She rolls her eyes and pulls him to stand between her thighs, her hands eagerly slipping under the hem of his t-shirt.

“And here I thought you cared about what I say.”

Killian tosses his glasses on his nightstand and drops to his knees so she can easily tug his t-shirt over his head.

“Always,” he murmurs in the space between her breasts. “Especially when you tell me how you want to have me?”

“Mmm, such a good question. Is it a multiple choice? ‘Cause I happen to have multiple answers.”

///

“Warmer… warmer… and now we’re getting cold again.”

“Ugh, I’ve checked every corner of this room! Where the fuck did you hide— I swear to God, Killian, if you say the words “swear” and “jar”, I will throw something at you.”

“You have to put a dollar in the glass container for expletives and obscenities.”

“Jesus, you’re infuriating.”

“Mildly annoying at worst.”

“No, you’re infuriating. Being a smartass only makes you more infuriating.”

“Ah, ah, you’re heating up again, Swan.”

“I’ll heat up your ass!”

“Is that a promise?”

“God.”

///

“Emma, love…”

“Shut up.”

“I do not wish to judge but—“

“Seriously, shut up.”

“The bathroom cabinet? I must say, I’m insulted more than anything else.”

“It was behind my pads!”

“Alright?”

“It said it was the best place to hide something from your boyfriend!”

“What did?”

“The internet!”

“Love… did you… google hiding places?”

“Remember when I told you to shut up?”

“Bloody hell, you’re adorable.”

“Jones—“

“Oh, love, come here.”

“Go away.”

“I love you.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I’ve never played hide and seek, ok? Or this… hot and cold thing.”

“Well, that’s why we’re playing now. So you can have some practice, or our little lass will run circles around you.”

“She will anyway.”

“Probably… Did you really google “where to hide things from my boyfriend”?”

“… maybe.”

“Bloody hell, that sounds wrong.”

“Yeah… I don’t think any of those articles and forum entries were made for the purpose of hiding presents from your significant other.”

“They also give rubbish advice.”

“I’ll have you know, the pads and tampons thing was everywhere.”

“Darling, I buy you those most of the time.”

“Yeah, but… yeah, ok. Shit advice. For shitty boyfriends… and shitty girlfriends when you think about it.”

“Just go with your gut from here on, yeah? I’m confident it will yield much better results. No need to cheat, Swan.”

“Ah! I did not cheat!”

“Of course not. I jest. This was most certainly not a very unsuccessful attempt at cheating. ”

“Shut up.”

///

Emma finishes her chapter and leafs through the pages of the next. 15. Then she drops the book on her lap and looks up into the amused eyes of her boyfriend.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Nothing her ass. Now the corners of his mouth are twitching as well.

“You don’t have nothing face.”

“No? What kind of face do I have?”

“A very nice one.”

He huffs a little laugh but his ears immediately turn a shade pinker.

“Ah, excuse the inaccuracy. What kind of an expression do I have?”

She looks around. No one in the café is looking at them and Emma is not even sure why she feels self-conscious saying it but—

“The one you get when you think I’m doing something cute.”

Now Killian flushes with pleasure, the lines around his eyes crinkling along with his smile.

“You are doing something cure. Endearing, if I may use a more appropriate term.”

“You may also tell me what it is.”

She lifts her knee a bit so the book doesn’t slide off her lap and reaches for her cocoa. Killian purses his lips and narrows his eyes, seemingly in deep thought. Emma rolls her eyes over the rim of her mug and gives him a look.

“Oh, come on.”

He sighs but smiles nonetheless and sets his newspaper on the table between them. It’s a nice table. It’s a nice place.

Emma’s life was not one of those lives. Nice cafés, quality hot cocoa, a man who finds her “endearing”. And now—

She wasn’t a “regular” before Storybrooke. That’s to say she never really cared to have her name and order memorized by a barista whose name she was also aware of. She didn’t visit the same burger joints all the time, she didn’t order from the same pizza places and she most certainly didn’t go to the same coffee shops and sit around, making herself at home.

Storybrooke of course didn’t give her much of a choice. You either ate at Granny’s or you cooked for yourself. But once they moved to Boston she naturally fell back on her nomadic ways.

Killian was a whole different story. If he’d ever been a regular at Granny’s, that was over and done with long before she arrived. So Emma really didn’t expect him to develop a partiality for some random diner or coffee shop when they moved.

Then again, The Caffeinated Bookworm is hardly any random café. It is, Emma has not too begrudgingly come to admit, one of the most charming places she has ever been in, made even more so by its multitude of bookshelves you can borrow from, its extremely friendly and enthusiastic owner named after the most bookish princess of them all and its small but extremely well-mastered collection of beverages.

Emma cringes at the thought of ever setting foot in a Starbucks or a Costa again. Though she definitely misses the muffins but Belle keeps saying she can’t bother with all the permits she’ll need.

It didn’t take nearly as much convincing to get Emma to come to The Bookworm again and again and again as she thought it would. Mostly because it’s now Killian’s favourite place to spend a Saturday, if they are not at home, and maybe because she wanted to see this Belle with all the good book recommendations and the fantastic coffee.

She loves Belle now, don’t get her wrong. She just—

“You do this thing.”

Emma blinks a couple of times and focuses on Killian who is looking at her with his head tilted to the side and oh – his eyes are really soft now.

“What thing?”

“I can always tell when you’ve finished your chapter because you always leaf through to see how long the next one is.”

He says it likes it’s this miraculous thing she does and not just a silly quirk.

“Well, I like to be prepared.”

Killian laughs and reaches across the table to take her hand, bringing it to his lips.

She will do the silliest things 24/7, if they make him smile like that.

“This is a public place, you know?”

They both look up to see Elsa standing beside their table, a perfectly formed eyebrow cocked up in barely suppressed amusement.

“Yes, and we are so indecent.”

Emma rolls her eyes as Killian hides his smile into another kiss to her knuckles before he gets up.

“The way you’re looking at each other is. Don’t think I don’t know how this happens.”

Elsa waves at her baby bump and Emma tries to laugh off her blush.

“I should hope so. Otherwise sex ed in Norway must be truly appalling,” she looks at Killian shrugging into his coat and gathering his phone and newspaper and frowns. “You’re not staying?”

“Ah, afraid not. There is a… project that needs some finishing touches. I thought I’ll make use of the time while Elsa keeps you company.”

She narrows her eyes slightly, knowing he is not working on any boats in the dead of winter, but decides to let it go. He gives her a grateful smile and a kiss that might go on a couple of seconds longer than Elsa will deem “decent”.

“I can’t believe you still buy an honest-to-god newspaper,” Elsa grins at Killian teasingly and kisses him on the cheek.

“They still sell them.”

Emma thinks forty years ago he might have stuck his tongue out at the other blonde but Killian just grins at Elsa’s eyeroll and winks at her before he leaves.

Elsa goes to get herself a cup of coffee and when she comes back Emma can see the suspicion in her eyes. To be fair, Emma’s grin is a bit evil.

“You know you’re one of my closest friends,” she starts. “But for future reference, you really shouldn’t kiss the man of a pregnant woman right in front of her.”

Elsa laughs one of her rare laugh – loud and unexpected, shaking her shoulders slightly, her braid reaching her seat as she tips her head back.

“Alright, tell me about that lab girl.”

Emma’s expression sours.

“Ugh, don’t get me started.”

“It was obviously what you were angling at, seeing as I’m pretty sure you’re not jealous of your very devoted husband and your very asexual best friend.”

“Not my husband yet.”

It’s been more than a month since they talked about it and she still has two wedding rings stashed in her jewelry box but no ring on her finger.

Not that a month is a lot. Or that she needs a ring. She doesn’t. She doesn’t need anything but to be 100% that Killian wants it as much as she does, that it’s one of those things that she can give him – that they can give each other.

Elsa just hums and takes a sip of her drink, her back perfectly straight again and her elegant, pale fingers wrapped securely around the little cup. She is waiting. Emma sighs.

Emma’s life was not one of those lives either. Best friends she could talk to about boys. Boys she’d want to talk about. And now it is.

“So we were getting my regular blood tests done, right? And Killian’s there, of course. And there’s this lab assistant or whatever, I don’t know, she wasn’t even the one taking my blood so I have no idea why she was hovering around. I mean – I do. She kept going on about how wonderful he is, how nice it is when the father is so involved, how few men are, blah, blah.”

Elsa’s light cough might have been a laugh. Emma just glares.

“I know, ok? I just… ugh, she was so… ugh.”

“What did Killian say?”

Emma rolls her eyes and leans back in her chair.

“He didn’t see it until I said something. Then he found it hilarious, said she could be his daughter.”

Elsa lifts an eyebrow.

“Look, you do not flirt with a pregnant woman’s man. Do you know what is going on inside our heads? And inside like… everything?”

“Yeah, Anna was the same.”

“Your sister?”

“The one and only. She got pregnant just a few months after they got married. Kristoff was working on this reindeer farm back then. She went absolutely mental over how much time he was spending with the owner.”

“Well, can you blame her? Work environments can be very—“

“Emma, she was a lovely woman in her late 50’s with a husband and three children.”

“Oh. Well…”

Elsa laughs her delicate, barely audible laugh this time but her eyes are warm and sparkling.

“It’s just… the two of you have two of the most honest and faithful men I’ve ever met and—“

“I know, I know,” Emma waves her hands around before she drops them on her belly, laughing a little as well. “It’s… It’s not a real thing we’re really worried about just…”

“Flirty nurses are a bit much.”

“Way too much… She definitely wasn’t a proper nurse.”

///

“Names.”

“Hmmm?”

“Names, my love. How have we still not talked about names?”

“Because we’ve been too preoccupied with making sure everything was alright with the babe and procuring any amenity she could possibly need?”

“Mm, when you put it like that… it doesn’t make us the horrible parents I was afraid we might already be.”

“Never. It is simply impossible that you will be anything but wonderful. So much so that you will hardly allow any of my shortcomings to turn truly horrible.”

“I’m not even going to argue with this. I’ll just wait and let her come out and be all smug when you’re amazing at everything.”

“Let me get this straight – you will be smug over me being amazing at everything.”

“Of course. I totally get to be smug about picking you to procreate with.”

Killian chokes.

She giggles, kisses the space behind his ear and moves back to her chopping board.

“I love you.”

“Emma.”

“What?”

“Stop. I cannot bare for my love for you to grow anymore because you use the word “procreate” in casual conversation.”

“It’s a word. Also, this is not just any conversation, we were discussing baby names.”

“I don’t think we ever got that far.”

“And we should. Names, Killian. Girl names.”

“Have you ever thought about it?”

“Procreating with you? Repeatedly.”

“Swan.”

He sounds like she’s physically torturing him. It might have something to do with the fact that his only available hand is currently engaged in stirring some sauce that apparently needs to be stirred constantly. If the way his jaw is ticking is any indication, he wants it to be engaged in other ways. She laughs and goes back to chopping walnuts into really tiny walnuts.

It’s her assigned task. She doesn’t know why. Killian is not very good at explaining recipes.

“Sorry, sorry. Baby names? Not seriously. I mean… yeah, okay, I… I had some moments with Neal. Not when I thought I might be— Before that. Before it all went to shit.”

God, Neal was an asshole. She can’t believe she considered having babies with him. It’s probably not fair comparing— No, you know what, screw that, it’s totally fair. Neal was nearing 30 when they met.

Man, someone would think she has a thing for older men which she honestly wouldn’t mind, she doesn’t see anything wrong with it when both parties are adults. Except she doesn’t like how it seems to cheapen what she has with Killian. She didn’t like Neal for his presumed maturity or experience. She loved him with her own inexperience and innocence and insecurity. Mostly she loved him with her need to be loved.

And she would be lying, if she said she doesn’t like Killian’s moments of staggering sensibility and measured maturity, his old-fashioned manners and considerable experience. But that’s like, just somewhere down the very long list. She loves Killian with everything she is, with her certainty and her confidence and even her crankiness. Mostly she loves him with her need to love and her faith in being loved.

“Emma?”

Killian is in front of her, his hand cupping her face. His thumb runs slowly across the rounded edge of her jaw. His fingers are rough but his touches are always so soft.

“Everything alright, darling?”

“What happened to your needy sauce?”

Even his chuckle is soft.

“It will survive. My attentions are yours and yours alone until a certain little lass comes around.”

“Hmm.”

“Where did you go?”

“Nowhere. Just thinking how much my taste in men has improved.”

“I selfishly hope it will not continue to improve.”

“Nope. I have officially peaked.”

He hums, kisses her cheek and takes a few steps back to check on his demanding sauce.

“Good. So would it be rather strange, if you told me the baby names you considered back then?”

“No. I mean, I don’t think so? I didn’t like, actually consider them for a baby I actually wanted to have. It just… made me think about it for the first time. But if you mind—“

“I don’t mind. What did you like?”

“I liked Angela for a girl. Or Alexandra. I dunno what’s with the A’s.”

She chuckles and it sounds nervous even to her own ears.

“I like Alexandra,” he says lightly, softly. “I like that you can shorten it to Alex.”

“Yeah, but…”

“No?”

“No. I mean… I still like the names but… there’s nothing special about them. They’re just names I like the sound of.”

Killian hums in understanding. As if her ramblings make perfect sense. She supposes they do to him at this point, he is very good at listening to her ramble and has been doing so for over two years now.

He is also really good at letting her get to her point or letting her talk herself to whatever decision she needs to make. She has developed the questionable habit of calling him, saying what she needs to figure out and then just talking until she has come to a conclusion or a decision, Killian mostly just humming and guiding her along with the right questions. Maybe she feels like she can figure anything out when he is there to watch her do it. That makes it sound less silly.

“So would you like to look up names with certain meanings?”

“Maybe. Although I don’t really feel like naming our daughter Lucasta.”

“Are we big enough fans of Lovelace for that?”

He says it so seriously, brows furrowing in contemplation. She can’t help but laugh. She swears she has laughed more since she met Killian Jones than in all the years that came before. It makes perfect sense to her.

“I don’t know, my love, you’re the resident bookworm. But I don’t really like Lucasta. I just looked up names meaning “light”.”

“Light. That’s quite lovely, Swan.”

She shrugs as she feels her cheeks heat up a little. She just googled it, it’s not like she knows stuff like that. Killian probably knows stuff like that but—

“But I thought maybe…”

“Maybe?”

“Well, this is really all up to you, since I can’t be of any help whatsoever in that department—“

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“No, I really can’t, I’m not being modest or some bullshit like that.”

Killian has finally taken his damn sauce off the stove. He comes up behind her and his teeth sink lightly into her shoulder, so tender she almost doesn’t realize the bite is meant to be an admonishment.

“What happened to that swear jar?”

“I said “bloody” should count as a swear.”

“Ah, right.”

She tilts her head back and sticks her tongue out at him.

“Are you offering that to me, love?”

She sticks it out further and keeps it that way until he leans in and draws it into his own mouth. She licks lightly at the roof of his mouth, tickling him on purpose until he bites at her lip. She still doesn’t feel admonished though her neck is staring to ache a bit.

Killian pulls back first, leaving a series of kisses on her forehead – so innocent she would laugh, if she wasn’t worried that will make him stop.

“So what is this thing only I can do?”

“Oh.”

She draws her own lip under her teeth even as his mouth continues to press lightly now to the top of her head.

It’s— She didn’t realize how much she wanted it until it’s time to ask him. Shit, she really hopes he says yes. And she really hopes she can temper down her disappointment, if he says no.

“Do you have any… family names you might like us to use?”

Killian stops kissing her. That’s never a good thing in Emma’s books no matter the situation. He pulls back and turns her around carefully so he can see her face fully and she can see the perplexed way he is blinking at her. He might be floored, he might be upset. She really hopes for the former.

Her hand slides up his neck, her pointer finger fitting perfectly behind his right ear and stroking the lobe gently.

“Like… a grandmother… or your mom’s maybe?”

“You—“ Killian clears his throat, it sounds very businesslike to her but then his voice comes out a little breathless the way she has only heard it a few times. “You want to name her after my mother?”

“Only if you do.”

“Have I ever told you her name?”

Emma shakes her head. He has told her a lot of stories about Liam but very few with his mother or father present. Their little Christmas game is one of the few. She supposes those are a bit more painful. She doesn’t think he has ever mentioned their names.

Part of her wonders if he doesn’t want to tell her too many family stories that she can’t meet with any of her own. She should tell him she wants to hear more.

“Umm,” his tongue flits restlessly over his lips, a sure sign that he is a little nervous and she settles her other hand over his heart. “My grandmother’s name – my mother’s mother was Catriona. I think my father’s was Nora but I never met her and I can only remember him mentioning her a handful of times.”

She nods encouragingly and tries not to look too eager.

“My… my mother’s name was Alice.”

Alice.

He swallows and looks at her from under his lashes.

“Do you like it?”

His voice is so soft – a little uncertain, more than a little hopeful.

God, Emma wishes she could say that she wouldn’t have saddled her kid with some difficult, old-fashioned name but she is looking into the blue, blue eyes of the love of her life and she is just damn grateful her daughter lucked out with such a beautiful name.

“I love it.”

If she comes off a bit breathless and emotional – well, this is a pretty damn big moment. They just picked their kid’s name. She hopes.

“Truly?”

She really hopes the way Killian’s eyes are shining is a good sign. She nods.

“Can we? Please?”

“Bloody hell.”

His lips crash onto hers almost violently, almost like he couldn’t quite wait to determine the strength with which to drop his mouth on hers. She doesn’t mind. She doesn’t mind one bit. His beard really needs trimming though.

“Of course. Emma— Gods, of course, I— You truly wish to?”

“I may or may not be incapable of imagining giving her another name now.”

Killian groans in what is definitely approval and delight and a whole lot of other emotions. And then he kisses her again.

///

“Swan.”

She beams at him, her hands clasped behind her back and an unapologetically self-satisfied smile on her lips.

“This is not a little present, love.”

“Actually it’s pretty tiny. It fits in your palm.”

“You know it is not the size that matters.”

“Huh. I never thought you would need to use that phrase.”

“Swan.”

He doesn’t give so she sighs and sways closer, her eyes earnest and bright.

“You eye it every time we go to The Bookworm.”

“I eye yachts at the marina as well.”

“Yeah, well, those weren’t going to fit in my shoe box. I had to compromise.”

Honestly, if she could, she would’ve gotten him every yacht in the damn marina. If she could, she would get Killian Jones every single thing he could ever wish for. Unfortunately, she has to be content with what’s within her power to give him.

Killian sighs and gently sets the small book on the table before his hand and stump settle on her hips.

“Thank you,” he leans down, his nose brushing hers sweetly, reverently, before his lips press against hers – the skin of them rough and warm.

“Is it my turn?”

If her eyes shine with excitement and slight impatience now – sue her. No one has done anything like this for her.

She used to date a guy. A few years after Neal. She was wary at first, the way she was with every guy after Neal. But he kept calling her and he kept buying her flowers and then he started buying her lingerie and then jewelry.

Emma likes to think she is not a material person. There have been times in her life when she went hungry, there have been times when all she had were the clothes on her back. Emma is the kind of girl you can impress with a single flower and a cup of coffee, some seashells and a pair of gloves. But maybe that was exactly why the expensive presents seemed all the more fairytale-like, why they seemed to imply such strong feelings. If people who got you pizza and tickets to your favourite movie, cared for you, what could a man who bought you dozens of roses and gold bracelets feel?

Apparently, anxiety that you would find out he was married. Or maybe guilt over two-timing you and his wife. She didn’t stay long enough to find out.

Emma never cared for lavish gifts. And after that she became downright suspicious of them.

She was most certainly not suspicious of the gorgeous pair of earrings Killian got her for her last birthday and yet. She likes this better. All the small presents that he found for her that make so much sense – from the exclusive hot chocolate flavours and orange and cinnamon candle to the duckling socks and the Princess Bride bookmark – all the thought that obviously went not only into the presents but into their hiding places as well, seeing as she has yet to find one in under 19 minutes and 30 seconds.

“Aye, your turn.”

Killian takes a deep breath and she smiles at him in amusement. He is acting as if he is about to be scouring their apartment for half an hour. That’s her average time.

“Alright then.”

She looks around eagerly and heads for the small hallway.

“Warmer.”

Good. Three options then – bathroom, bedroom or their soon-not-to-be-spare bedroom. They’ve both used the bathroom already so she puts her hand on their bedroom door.

“Colder.”

Killian’s breath stirs the hair on the back of her neck and she feels the goosebumps erupt under her sweater.

Alice’s room it is then. She opens the door and feels Killian right behind her.

“Warmer,” they say in unison.

“Confident are we?” he teases but his voice sounds the tiniest bit uncertain and Emma grins – she can already taste her victory.

Killian’s record for gift-finding is a whooping 6 minutes and 46 seconds. She is sure he has put on the timer and she can’t be more than a couple of minutes in. She looks around the room and heads for the large window. She learnt not to rule out any place after she found one of her presents literally hanging among the drapes in the living room.

Pulling the ephemeral white curtain however reveals no secrets and Emma rolls her eyes at herself. Of course he wouldn’t use the same trick twice. She looks around again. There is the changing table folded in the corner, the crib whose assembling alone would’ve bankrupted them if they’d stuck to the rules of the swear jar.

She is just about to check it from all sides when the mobile above it catches her eye. Or rather the way it is slightly leaning to one side. Emma circles the crib and grins. There, in one of the small boats, is an even smaller box.

She can’t hold in her little whoop of triumph as she reaches out and relieves the boat of its cargo.

“I hope you set the timer because this was definitely less—“

Emma turns around, holding the box proudly.

“Oh.”

He probably didn’t set the timer. What with the kneeling and everything.

“Emma Swan—“

Killian’s voice comes out very hoarse and as he clears his throat, she feels her fingers clutch the velvet box so hard that it dents a little under them.

“I-I know this is far from a grandiose proposal. And, believe me, I have debated every way, place and time that I could do this so it will be… so it might at least come close to what you deserve.”

She bites her lip and tells herself to be quiet. Knowing Killian, he has most certainly thought way too much about what he will say and the last thing she wants to do is cut him short.

“But… nothing about us has ever been grandiose except… except how we feel… how much we… bloody hell.”

He swallows again and Emma lifts her free hand and actually bites on the side of her thumb in an attempt to stop herself from smiling like an idiot. If Killian’s relieved little laugh is anything to go by, she is probably not doing very well. He smiles right back at her and this time his voice comes out stronger and clearer.

“Emma, my darling, my love, I never could have imagined you. Even in my wildest dreams and hopes, I never could’ve conjured up anyone as brilliant, as passionate and beautiful and kind. And I would’ve never dared to.”

No, Emma would’ve never dared to imagine that she can have someone like him either. Someone who will look at her like that. Someone she can keep forever. Hers was not one of those lives.

“Having you in my life at all, having your friendship… changed everything for me. It brought me back to… It quite literally gave me new life. But you and only you would dare to take it so far, to take us both so far, that we end up here.”

He looks pointedly around the room and she can’t help the laugh that comes out or how watery it sounds.

“You have filled my poor old heart with more happiness than I thought it could handle and it is nothing but yours. It will never wish to be anything but yours. And I’m hoping – I would be so bold as to say I believe – yours would be willing to be mine just as long.”

She feels herself nod and she sees Killian smile up at her, though he is a bit blurry.

“Right. Well then… Emma Swan, would you fulfill our hearts’ desires? Would you, once again, take me further than I have ever thought it possible to go? Would you marry me?”

There’s no amount of wishing or fantasizing or watching movies or other people’s happiness unfolding that can ever prepare you for the moment when your whole world is one person and the whole world is yours.

Maybe hers is one of those lives. It’s so much better than she could have ever imagined.

Emma bends her knees slowly, Killian meeting her half way to help her kneel down easily. The permanent crease between his brows deepens – simply from concentration as he helps her but her thumb reaches for it on instinct, smooths it out, preparing the ground. In the next moment her forehead meets his and she exhales – loud and long, something between a laugh and a sob.

There’s a “yes” somewhere in there as well. She repeats it about a dozen more times just to be sure.

She has no clue who initiates the unceasing rain of kisses but somehow she manages to pull away. She has good reason. She really wants that ring on her finger. So she opens the box and she takes it out and she places it in his palm.

Killian grins at her and his lips are more kiss-swollen than she has seen them in a while, they are too dry and chapped from the winter winds at the docks and there is a little blood in the corner where the skin of his upper lip has split open under the pressure of her kisses. She leans over to kiss it away as softly as she can. Like the weirdo she is all she can think about is how symbolic it feels somehow.

“God, I love you so much.”

His eyes sparkle and his grin grows and he captures her mouth again and again – uncaring toward the tender skin unlike her.

“And I you.”

He pulls back and nudges the hand pressed to his chest with his stump as his own hand brings the ring between them again.

“Shall we see if this fits?”

It needs a bit of a push and Killian seems to hesitate for a second.

“A bit tight.”

“No, it will be perfect once I’m back to regular size.”

He huffs a little but laughs along with her and with a bit of encouragement pushes the ring all the way onto her finger. She looks down at it and can’t help the little flutter of pride, of possessive preening. And then—

“I can’t believe you gave me shit for an old book when you got me a diamond ring!”

Killian’s eyes go wide for a second – probably just as stunned as she is that that is what came into her mind right now – and then he bursts out laughing. He doesn’t stop until she cradles the back of his head and pulls his lips back to hers.

They stay there until their knees start to hurt. It’s only as Killian helps her up and she looks around that she becomes aware of the tear tracks on her face.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it coming at all.”

She can hear the awe in her own voice and Killian wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her in so he can kiss her forehead.

“It was alright, aye?”

She looks up at him in shock. There might be a bit of indignation there as well.

“Uh, no. No, it wasn’t “alright” – it was perfect.”

He grins proudly at her.

///

Emma doesn’t know if it’s the little kid inside her or if it’s the kid inside her that wakes her up bright and early on Christmas day. She can feel the early morning light on the back of her eyelids. She can use some more sleep. Maybe.

She runs her hand over her face and feels the press of cool metal. Her lips pull up. Or maybe she could get up and make her fiancé breakfast. The combination of his schedule and her own reluctance to leave their warm bed earlier than absolutely necessary rarely allow her such an opportunity.

But then she turns her head to the right and sees that once again Killian has made it out of bed before her.

“Damn.”

She will probably have to settle for being the recipient of breakfast in bed. Again. Hers is not an easy life. Emma stretches and grabs her phone, scrolling for a few minutes before she realizes how quiet it is in the apartment. Curiosity manages to overpower her innocent laziness and she drags herself out of bed.

Killian is nowhere to be found though. Bathroom, kitchen and baby room are all empty and quiet.

“Huh.”

Emma feels her daughter moving inside her and places her hands on her stomach, smiling down at her.

“What do you say, baby girl? Shall we make breakfast for when daddy comes back?”

She connects her phone to the little Bluetooth speaker on their kitchen counter and puts on her favourite playlist as she goes about making Killian’s favourite breakfast.

///

“Swan?”

“In the kitchen, my love.”

“The one time you were supposed to oversleep.”

Emma hears him mutter more to himself than her and quirks an eyebrow.

“Could you perhaps go into the bedroom for a spell?”

“I will but I’ll have you know I made French toast and eggs just the way you like them and you are being difficult.”

“You are an angel and I should like nothing better than to enjoy your efforts. In exactly five minutes.”

Emma rolls her eyes and leaves the prettily arranged – if she does say so herself – plates on the counter and heads toward their bedroom.

“I’d appreciate it, if you come and get me when I’m no longer under bedroom arrest.”

“Your wit is one of the things I love most about you, Swan.”

She snorts and grumbles but she doesn’t even think about peaking over her shoulder. Killian isn’t one for over the top surprises and he has yet to pull one that she has not loved so Emma plops down on their bed with a little smile and a healthy dose of excitement fluttering inside.

Less than five minutes later there is a gentle knock on their door and she resists the urge to roll her eyes at it.

Killian pokes his head inside and beams happily at her.

“Good morning, my wife-to-be.”

She closes her eyes and leans her head back, humming in undisguised pleasure.

“Oh, I do like the sound of that.”

She gasps in surprise when she feels his lips on her throat.

“Sneaky,” she breathes out and feels his laugh against her skin.

“Just a spot of payback for all those times you’ve snuck up on me.”

“I haven’t been sneaking up on you nearly as much recently.”

“Well, you are a wee bit bigger now.”

Her eyes pop open. Her gasp is laughably dramatic, the slap to his shoulder is very much for real.

Killian grunts and chuckles, catching her hand so he can bring it to his lips.

“My apologies. Perhaps you will accept your Christmas gift as penance?”

“My Christmas gift?”

“Aye,” his eyes sparkle with excitement but all she can do is gape at him.

“What do you call this?”

She waves her hand in his face almost aggressively.

“I call it an engagement ring, Swan.”

“Yeah,” she nods. “And a pretty solid gift.”

Killian shakes his head resolutely.

“No, no, no. That is a completely separate affair. I am rather offended you thought I was going to use our engagement to kill two occasions with one gift.”

“One? You’ve been buying me gifts all week.”

“So have you.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Are you trying to say that you do not wish to see your gift?”

“No. I’m just saying… you’re showing me up.”

“Nonsense. You have given me the best present by accepting to wear this,” his thumb strokes slowly over the ring on her finger. “And you made French toast.”

She rolls her eyes and uses his shoulders to push herself up.

“Come on, smartass. I want my present.”

“There’s my girl.”

///

Emma is kneeling on her daughter’s bedroom floor for the second time in the last 12 hours. Her palms run over the smooth wood – rich and dark with a gorgeous red tint to it. Maybe it’s cherry. It swoops beautifully, the chair legs turning into arm rests or maybe the other way around – it all flows so smoothly. Forming the shapes of two swans – supporting, guarding the soft seat between them.

“Oh my god.”

She rocks it gently with her hand, not daring to sit down just yet.

That corner has stood empty the whole time they were arranging the room. Right beside the window. They always knew they wanted a rocking chair there, they just could not seem to find the one. And now it was here.

“Where on earth did you find it?”

She hears Killian move behind her. He kneels and spreads his legs, caging her between them. His arms come around her and his chin settles on her shoulder.

“I didn’t it.”

“What do you mean you didn’t?”

“I didn’t find it, Swan.”

His hand runs over the dip of her waist the way hers runs over the chair’s leg.

“Did you… make this?”

She twists around, her nose bumping his cheek. She feels the moisture and she’s not sure if it’s the emotions choking her or simply how wide her eyes are right now. His own blue eyes are warm in the morning light and his smile is both shy and a little sleepy and full of delight.

“I was given advice and directions from someone far more experienced. Did you know August’s father is a carpenter? Marco?”

“You talked to August?!”

He chuckles and looks down.

“Come now, love, I’m a grown man. I can be civil.”

“Sounds like you were more than civil.”

“Not to alarm you but I believe I got along with the old man better than with his son.”

She laughs lightly and shakes her head. When she looks up he is staring at her with a hint of trepidation.

“There are some imperfections, you’ll see. Marco was rather kind, said they give it character but—“

“Killian, it’s… God, I sound like a broken record but it is perfect. I can’t believe you made me a rocking chair.”

“Now, Swan, let’s not be greedy. I made us a rocking chair.”

She shakes her head again and turns further in his loose embrace.

“Thank you.”

She kisses him – quick and sweet and so happy. She never knew she could be this happy.

“Shall we test it out then?”

Killian gets up and gives her a hand then he turns and drops into the chair, letting it rock him for a moment until the motion slows down. Then he gives her hand a tug and pulls her into his lap, her legs thrown over one swan armrest and the rocking motion starts anew.

“Hmm, it’s like we’re at sea.”

“Do you think she likes it?” he asks softly, his hand settling over her baby bump.

“Mhm. We’ll make a sailor out of her.”

“I have just the boat in mind.”

She snuggles further into the softness and warmth of him.

“My French toast is getting cold, Swan.”

“Just a minute.”

He hums in slight protest but his arms only tighten around her.

///

The morning slips into an unseasonably sunny day and after bundling up (or rather bundling each other up – Killian insisting she wear gloves and Emma wrapping him up in the scarf and hat she gave him their first Christmas together) they venture outside despite the chill in the air.

Emma has never been afraid of awkward silences. Aging out of the system comes with a whole lot of waiting around in hallways and offices, in bare bedrooms that she was moving into or moving out of, on lumpy sofas or in the back of cars. New families meant awkward silences, new schools meant small talk that inevitably lapsed into awkward silences, social workers meant questions that made you long for awkward silences and new group homes meant a very specific kind of silence – the silence that underlines too much noise that you are not a part of.

By the time she was “out in the world”, she was used to awkward silences and she preferred them to intrusive questions or insincere niceties.

But the concept of comfortable silences was more or less completely foreign to Emma before she met Killian Jones. To her people fell into 3 categories – ones that wanted to talk about themselves, ones that wanted to make her talk so then they could talk about themselves and ones that were silent and she did not see the point of hanging around to be silent with.

Killian doesn’t like talking about himself too much. Yet, he wants her to know him and she wants to know him and Emma can always tell when he just naturally starts telling her something personal without even realizing it and when he is consciously making an effort to let her in. She likes to think that it’s been more of the former recently. He doesn’t try to make her talk either, but when she starts, he doesn’t wait for his turn in the conversation – he sits and listens.

But it’s the silences that get to Emma the most sometimes. Because when Killian doesn’t seem to have anything in particular to say to her, he is perfectly content to just walk beside her or read his book with her half on top of him and just… be. And Emma is perfectly content as well – with him, together, silent or not, whenever, wherever.

It took her awhile to realize this is what people mean by comfortable silences, that this is what it feels like to want to be with someone even when you’re not really doing or saying anything. When you are just holding hands and wandering down the street, looking at closed shops and people carrying presents under their arms and others walking their dogs and yet others – good god why – jogging on Christmas day, walking to the same slow rhythm and swinging your hands between you just because and looking at each other from time to time and letting your breaths mingle and that’s that.

And it’s lovely. They’ve been walking in perfect silence for over half an hour and it’s just… lovely.

And then he is licking his lips.

“Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“That thing you do with your tongue.”

His eyebrow reaches the edge of his beanie and his grin is overly smug.

“That’s not what you usually say.”

She doesn’t even spare the second to roll her eyes.

“I’m serious. It’s freezing, you shouldn’t lick your lips. That’s why they get chapped and split.”

Killian takes more than a second to roll his eyes at her.

“Are you saying you don’t like kissing me anymore, Swan?”

“I’m saying the exact opposite,” Killian huffs a little but when she wraps her hands around his arm, he pulls her a little closer. “I’m saying I want to kiss you all the time and I’d like to not cause you pain when I do.”

“Never,” he turns around and kisses her cheek to prove his point.

She kisses his split lip to prove hers. It hasn’t had the chance to heal, they’ve probably had too many occasions that required a whole lot of kissing. Like him winning all the “best Christmas present” awards, which—

“Let’s head home. You still have to open your present.”

///

“You are not excited to open your present.”

He shakes his head and she can see the amused little smile in the corner of his mouth.

“I’m excited about all Christmas traditions with you, darling. I simply have more self-control than a young lad and it’s time for lunch.”

“Yup, I’ll definitely get to be the fun parent.”

She thinks it is quite possible she fell irrevocably in love with Killian Jones when she first heard him laugh. But she is absolutely positive she has been falling further every time since.

“I have no problem with that, Swan. But you should really start your grilled cheese now, if you want it to be ready when the soup is.”

She mock salutes him and goes to take the cheese and butter out of the fridge. So they cook and eat and wash and dry the dishes and, deciding to play hard to get with Killian Jones for the first time in her life, Emma starts taking out cookies for desert afterwards.

The cookies, much to Killian’s chagrin, are so hard they can only be eaten with milk. This is fine by Emma. She arranges the slightly burnt and very misshapen stars and swans and Christmas trees on a plate and waits for the milk to warm up, all the while feeling her fiancé’s eyes on her.

If he is on to her game, he is not yet willing to say anything.

But when she hands him a mug and settles comfortably on the couch with her own drink and cookies and her computer in her lap, Killian finally seems to run out of that I’m-not-a-child-on-Christmas patience.

“Swan?” his chin fits perfectly between her shoulder and her neck, watching her browse the Spotify Christmas playlists.

Her only response is a deliberately distracted little hum. She can’t see if he rolls his eyes at her but she feels his nose skip over her bare skin before his lips press lightly.

“Can I have my present now?”

“Oh? Don’t you want to wait until New Year’s?”

He sighs and lays his head fully on her shoulder, his soft hair tickling her chin and her neck. She almost feels bad. She supposes that Killian’s exasperating patience and unconcern with his own presents has less to do with his age and more to do with him still being very out of practice with receiving any. Not that she has that much experience either. Which definitely shows in her mediocre presents. Dammit. She really shouldn’t have built this up.

She turns her head and buries her nose in his greying hair, inhaling the scent of his peppermint shampoo and sighing deeply. Killian doesn’t care how good or bad she is at buying and hiding presents. She repeats that to herself a couple of times before she gets up.

When she comes back, Killian has taken over two and a half of the three cushions and has a cookie stuffed in his mouth as he scrolls through her playlists, and Emma feels the tension between her shoulder blades release a bit. The way his eyes widen when he sees the rather large box in her hands helps as well. Or not.

“Ok, don’t get excited,” she warns way more sternly than she intended before she lowers herself onto the floor.

Killian follows suit so that the box rests between them and he is definitely curious at least. Nervous insects taking up residence with their baby aside, she doesn’t mind the way his eyes sparkle at her.

“So you know how men get their girlfriend lingerie and pretend it’s not a present for themselves?”

“I cannot deny that part of me would be flattered, if you got me a box full of lingerie but—“

“That’s not—“ she rolls her eyes and tries to give him a look but she still has to let him open this so it’s probably more nervous than reprimanding. “I mean that it’s kinda a present for me. I mean, it’s for both of us but I—“

“Emma.”

He grabs the hand that she is waving around way too much and smiles at her and—

She reaches over and runs her thumb over his bottom lip.

“Open it.”

Killian’s eyebrows furrow in confusion but he dutifully opens his mouth and her laughter is so loud compared to the soft Christmas song coming from the speakers.

“The box, Killian.”

It might be the quickest she has ever seen him blush. He ducks his head and lifts the simple lid to reveal all the other boxes inside.

“Ok, so this,” she reaches for the smallest one and shakes out the lip balm. “Is for your lips. It has no colour but it’s pomegranate flavor so you’ll like it.”

She doesn’t really look up to see his reaction, just powers on and grabs the next box.

“Since we definitely don’t have space for a dishwasher in that kitchen, hand cream it is. Mine is rosewater and yours is cucumber but we can totally exchange if you want. OK, on to the serious stuff.”

She keeps shoving boxes in his hand and sharing the information she spent more than a week accumulation. Unisex body lotions, a series of bath products that are supposed to help with loose skin – post her pregnancy, and sore muscles – post Killian’s every work day, an oil that is good for both old and new burns – and Killian keeps acquiring those in the kitchen, sunscreen with the highest factor and special protection against salt water, capsaicin cream and gel meant to help alleviate phantom pains, creams and lotions for her stretch marks, and a series of other ointments recommended for deep scars or muscle strains.

She is about to move on to the rolls and massagers when she looks up. Killian’s jaw seems a bit more slack than usual.

“Too much? Too girly?”

He doesn’t laugh, he shakes his head and pulls her into a kiss. She shoves the boxes to the side so she can move closer.

“Not at all. I hope that strawberry and vanilla one is for me,” he says against her lips and she laughs and nods.

“Whatever you want, my love.”

Before Killian, there were only a handful of times when Emma entertained the idea of a serious relationship with an actual living and breathing human, but there were plenty – especially when she found herself in a particularly dreary apartment or her neighbours were a particularly cute couple – when she hypothetically wondered what being in a comminuted, full-time relationship will be like. To be quite honest, her mind also strayed that way when she got particularly lazy in the winter and stopped shaving for a month or two or when she woke up in the middle of the night with a little bloodstain on her bedsheets.

Overall, she gave a thought or two to how exhausting being in a full-time relationship might be – having to always be in a state in which you wouldn’t mind your significant other seeing you in, having to reign in your less than charming or downright disgusting habits.

And she honestly has no clue if people keep worrying about all that once they are in a relationship but frankly, now – there is no state in which she would mind Killian seeing her. No, when she thought “Shit. Pregnancy stretch marks.” her following thought was “Oh, I’ll get Killian to give me massages.”

And Killian – Killian was all about lights off, clothes on, “no, it’s fine”, “let me spend an hour between your legs but oh, no, you don’t have to” at first.

Now – she has to remind him of the benefits of sleep pants every other month and when he pulls a muscle at the docks, he doesn’t wait for her to offer him a massage so much as he butts his head into her arm or thigh like an over-eager puppy until she gives him her full attention. And she is far from displeased when—

“I do have a question though,” Killian picks up a bottle of body milk with aloe. “How is this at all similar to purchasing lingerie?”

She grins and turns her head to nibble lightly on his ear.

“Well… I don’t mean to underestimate you but these things are much easier to use with two hands.”

“Indeed.”

“So you might require assistance.”

“Emma, love… did you get me an outrageous amount of skin care products just so… you can regularly get your hands on me.”

He looks both shocked and so absolutely delighted by the prospect that Emma can literally feel her whole body sputtering in confusion, unsure whether she should blush or laugh or scoff or—

She buries her head in his chest and pulls the ends of his cardigan closer to hide herself. Killian folds her further into his arms and whispers silly things like how much he loves her.

She pulls back eventually, smoothing her hair away from her face and trying for a serious tone.

“Let’s get one thing straight though – I fully expect you to reciprocate.”

“Swan, have I ever been opposed to—“

“No, but this is not gonna be like… fun times. There will be like two months of no fun times. And you gotta help me do post-pregnancy damage control. While we take care of a baby.”

Killian smiles at her – lovingly and way too serenely in her opinion.

“I’ve… God, this is so stupid and vain and just— I’ve just really enjoyed being your young and pretty girlfriend, ok?”

His eyes are very blue. Also very wide, unnaturally wide.

“First, the word “pretty” is an insult to your radian beauty.”

She snorts and she blushes and yeah. This is her life now. Her husband-to-be says stuff like this.

“Second, you will always be my young and much-more-than-merely-pretty girlfriend and no marks of aging or stretching or anything could ever diminish that. Least of all ones that result from you giving birth to our daughter. And, bloody hell, if you worry about that, how am I supposed to feel?”

Her hand makes it under two layers of clothing for the delight that is Killian’s bare skin under her fingertips and she leans down to kiss his neck.

“You’re supposed to feel very good and very much like trying a few of these out with that woman who is constantly looking for reasons to get her hands on you.”

“She is a pain.”

She pinches his side.

“Ah-ah! But I supposed I should oblige her.”

“You’re such a gentleman.”

“I’m getting the strawberry and vanilla.”

Killian unearths the desired bottle from the pile beside them and helps her to her feet.

“You do realize I’m the worst massage partner one can have, yes?” he asks even as he tugs her toward their bedroom and Emma just frowns up at him in a mix of confusion and offense. “I have just the one very rough hand.”

He slips said hand below the stretchy waistband of her sweatpants and Emma feels anything but deterred.

“For the sake of honesty, I admit nobody else has given me a massage.”

Killian was rather outraged when he first found that out even though it works both ways.

“But, also for the sake of honesty,” she attacks his buttons with a speed that might be unbecoming for a pregnant woman but Emma really can’t bring herself to care. “I should say I’m perfectly satisfied with the arrangement.”

For what it’s worth, Killian doesn’t seem to find anything about her unbecoming as he assists her with the express undressing.

“Not yet. But you will be if I have anything to say about it.”

For the sake of honesty, she should add that nobody has ever touched her as softly as Killian does, as carefully, deliberately, reverently – his hand fitting perfectly around her ankle, along her calves and thighs and in the dip of her spine.

For the sake of honesty, she should add that the only thing she loves more than Killian’s hand on her is her hands on him – running the expanse of his shoulders, connecting all the little dots and marks on his back like a treasure map, her thumbs fitting perfectly in the dimples on his low back as her palms fit over his ass.

For the sake of honesty, she should add that she has never been more certain than she is in the golden afternoon light, with Killian spread out on their bed and their bedroom smelling of strawberry and vanilla, with her ring turning round and round – slippery from all the lotion on her hands, and her daughter making her presence known inside her – she has never been more certain that hers is not one of those lives she longed for and knew she should never have.

It's better.

#csjj #cs january joy #captain swan #cs ff #captain swan fanfiction #nots

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hermionesterrier · 6 years

Text

More Than Human: Chapter 8 Liveblog!

“With the Girl at the Rock Show” *wink* *wink*

The change in the Blues' dynamic -in Boomer- is adorable and surreal and definitely healthier. Before this point, Boomer's obsession made me uncomfortable and now that he's so taken aback that she likes him back and she’s the one actually making the moves, he's so thrown off and nervous and falling so hard and just....KIDS *_*

Mrs. Morbucks = HBIC

I'm still not sure exactly what she does though....? Are we ever gonna find out?

Damn. So why aren't JS's clients looking for other Evil Corps to get their dirty work done?

Buttercup's blankie is making a guest appearance!! Bubbles, don't you dare hurt blankie!!

I feel like the girls' boyfriends would always come out scarred for life after a "conversation" with the Professor. Who knows what he does to those poor souls in his lab xD

Why do you want her to acknowledge your existence so badly, Brick, hmmm?

Hold on. Is that the same Julie from that messed family on the show? Or am I confusing Julies?

He glared at her. "You know, generally? You ask permission before doing that." "Generally you ask permission before letting a giant black spike of death stab a pretty girl in the heart, too," she responded. Daaaaamn, shots fired!

OH MY GOD THE LUNCH SCENE! ONE OF MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITES!! I'm gonna try not quote all of it xD

"You are setting a terrible example as a Senior." "I set a terrible example as a person," Butch corrected. I mean...no arguments there.

Ok, I really don't remember this Julie Bean from the show...

"I wouldn't solicit advice from someone who tried to sacrifice my sister in a dire situation." "That was an act of heroism!" he snapped. "Except it was going after you," Bubbles pointed out. "So it was less heroic and more cowardly," Buttercup said. "Say that a little louder, Buttercup," Brick seethed, his eyes glowing red. "I didn't quite catch that." Unperturbed, Buttercup looked him right in the eye and enunciated, "You're. A. Pussy." DAMN STRAIGHT!

"Speaking of fucking," Butch moaned. "This food? Is like an orgasm in my mouth."

I wanna taste Buttercup's food :'(

Even Brick's in love hahahahahaha

Did someone say Tabouli? *_* GIMME!

Poor Julie, she's so confused AHAHAHAHAHAHA

Ugh, get over yourself Brick. You're like a 5 year old throwing a temper tantrum because he's being ignored. And you did nothing to Bubbles? Really?

"I wish I'd been around to see that," he said, and meant it. He really did. He wished he hadn't been such a stupid little kid. He could've played with her, and they could've grown up friends instead of enemies, and he might've felt this sooner, this easing of an unbearable weight in his heart every time she looked at him, touched him, kissed him. This makes my heart ache. Blues are killing meeeeeee

Brick thinking he's so mature but actually being a complete baby tho AHAHAHAHAHAHA

Eww Butch stahp

THE PROFESSOR WATCHING ALL THE MALES LIKE A HAWK OMG HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Ugh Brick is so stupid I can't even...JUST ADMIT YOU WANTED TO SEE HER DANCE YOU IDIOT

"Butch, boobies," Bubbles said simply, and Butch suddenly shot to. "Where?" he said, eyes frantically darting around. Well that was easy xD

The Blues just standing there hugging tho xD

Bubbles wrapped her arm around Boomer's and beamed at him. "Come on," she said sweetly, encouragingly. Then she looked at Brick. A sudden chill shuddered through him at the sight of her expression, and before he could process it they were already gone. He couldn't even recall exactly what she had looked like as the door shut; it had happened so quickly and caught him so off guard. Bubbles may or may not be possessed but she definitely scares the shit out of Brick :')

That disappointment when you wanna see someone so bad and they're nowhere in sight. I feel ya, Blossom. Let me hug you.

Bubbles is such a little Reds shipper :D

Even I'm overwhelmed by how corny this is.

BUTTERCUP IS SINGING!!!!!

Boomer is outright challenging her. Show that bitch who’s boss, Buttercup!

The more comfortable she grew on stage, the more uncomfortable Butch grew watching her. Bubbles asked, "Butch? What's wrong?" "Great," he said, his voice flat. "She sounds great."

This Buttercup/Mitch conversation is fucking painful. All the would'ves and could'ves....

"I was talking with Mitch earlier," she said quietly, and Butch abruptly decided he'd never really liked Mitch anyway. CAN WE JUST TAKE A MOMENT TO APPRECIATE THAT THAT IS ALL IT TOOK FOR HIM TO DECIDE THAT? BUTTERCUP LOOKING SO SAD AND MITCH IS DONE FOR HIM

Butch struggling so hard to understand human emotion though...

"You've never really wanted to be with someone, have you, Butch?" she said, a small, bitter laugh curling around her words. Foreshadowing? :')

I cannot with the Greens. This rooftop scene is KILLING ME I’M GONNA CRY GIVE ME MY OTP PLZ SBJ PLZZZZZ

PERIOD DRESSES AND WHITE WIGS THIS IS ACTUALLY GOLDEN OMG AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Oh my god these costumes...whyyyyyy

It's interesting how well Brick is getting along with Buttercup and Bubbles. Like friends. Buttercup keeps talking to him and sharing her misery with him, while Bubbles just naturally gets along with everyone and everything. He's even acting like a normal person with Julie! And annoying Blossom, as usual hehehe

I wanna see what Bubbles is working on.

Buttercup jumping at the chance to embarrass Blossom with THAT STORY is what sisters are really for, isn't it?

I really wanna take hip hop classes

Mrs. Morbucks being a sly HBIC :D

Awww @ Blossom feeling pretty. You're beautiful all the time ❤

I hate this next part for her...

“Looks, brains, talent," Buttercup said, nodding. Her eyes glazed over. "Plus a chest that you want to... throw rocks at just so you can watch them bounce off." Bubbles shot her sister a look. "Buttercup, you... you're kinda weird." BUT THAT'S THE BEST THING ABOUT HER AHAHAHAHAHA

Fucking pedophile assholes leave Blossom the fuck alone how fucking dare you :(

Buttercup would kick (even more) ass being Evil...I think there was a comic or something where she lost her memories and joined the dark side?

All these ep references are making me want a PPG rewatch *_*

Brick wants to cheer her up so bad it's so...uncharacteristic and heartwarming

The AB virus...the only villainous thing the Amoeba Boys ever managed to do...unintentionally xD

BLOSSOM BEING A KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR LITERALLY SWEEPING BRICK OFF HIS FEET I LOVE ITTTT

I think I just fainted," Brick said feebly, eyes shut and breath once again warm and sick against her neck. "In front of everybody." "You crumpled to the floor in a very dignified manner," Blossom assured him. He pressed his head a little closer into her, almost a nuzzle. "So long as it was a manly faint." "Oh, I don't think it could've gotten more manly than that," she said, and turned to the silent room again once she reached his door. Everyone's eyes were still on the two of them. "At ease, men," she said dryly, and pushed into his room. MANLY FAINT AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

H O W did the girls not throw the sharpest object they could find at Butch? I totally would've. Not even exaggerating.

Way to ruin the moment, Brick.

UGH Blues being THAT couple

Someone learned his lesson and is actually accepting help :D

This is probably one of the most insightful conversations about Butch's psyche. His "jealousy" doesn't stem from the fact that it's Blossom, it stems from the fact that it's BRICK. It's not like he has problems getting girls, but, in his eyes, Brick gets everything and then some with no effort....can see why he thinks so. But then again, Brick's still a temperamental man-child with below zero social skills, so I guess you win some you lose some right?

Buttercup's right though. Butch likes bleeding for things. If he got the same things Brick does while also putting zero effort in it then he wouldn't want it anyway.

SHE'LL BE WAITING OKAY

Hmmm I wonder why Brick is taking so long to recover even though both his brothers were only sick for 1 day...does he have a lower immunity system? Or is it the pretty redhead taking care of him during this difficult time? :')

Boomer's deal with the Devil and how confused he is by Bubbles' horrified reaction...

There's something so incredibly sad and heartbreaking about Boomer's storyline here. When will Him come to collect, but more importantly, what will he be collecting...?

Mitch's grandmother tho...very Norman Bates-y xD

Not that into each other, Mitch? I call bullshit!

MOJO JOJO!!!!!

Awww, same, Bubbles I missed him too hahahaha

Mojo so offended and schooling Buttercup for her cussing tho xD

CLIFFHANGER DUN DUN DUNNN!!!

I really did try not to quote the whole entire chapter. I failed. Obviously xD

Click here for more quotable fic!

#sbj more than human #jess reads mth #my longest liveblog yet

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chaoscheebs · 5 years

Text

Celdic Crew Group Chat Log Side J

A friend pointed out it was odd that Jusis was on a train in the last fic, so, um, Jusis’s side of this happened. Please enjoy 1,400 words-ish of Millium poking 5000 holes in Jusis’s dumb plan to see his boyfriend on the sly.

--------

This was a rather relaxing change of pace, Jusis thought from his seat on the train. The car he was in wasn’t crowded, no one was fussing over him or spouting some itinerary of things that had to be done. It was nice and quiet, and he was rather enjoying the peace…

And then the ARCUS chirped, indicating a new message and shattering the peace.

MILLIUM: HIYA, JUSIS! ^o^ \o/

Jusis frowned. Nope, not today, closing the ARCUS now, he will deal with this later.

Unfortunately, the girl was not deterred and kept spamming messages. Annoyed, he went back to check them and found the following:

MILLIUM: JUSIS! HEY! MILLIUM: HEY JUSIS HEY JUSIS HEY MILLIUM: JUUUUUUUUUSIIIIIIIIIIIIIS~~~~~~~!!!! MILLIUM: I KNOW YOU’RE NOT BUSY, I CAN SEE YOU!!! 8T 8T 8T

“What do you mean, you can—” Jusis started to say, then he finally caught it. The tap-tap-tapping of a new message from one seat up, across the aisle. He refused to look in her direction; that would mean he’d have to engage. And as already stated, nope, not today, he will deal with this later.

Or he would if she hadn’t sent the next message.

MILLIUM: SO WHY ARE YOU ON A TRAIN ANYWAY? DON’T YOU HAVE *WAY COOLER* WAYS TO TRAVEL??

Sighing, he finally tapped out a message back. Honestly, didn’t she have anything better to do than bother him?

JUSIS: I wanted a change of pace, that’s all. Traveling by train can be rather relaxing.

It technically was the truth, just not the whole truth. Hopefully that’d be enough to placate her.

MILLIUM: OK, I GUESS I CAN SEE THAT. SO WHY ARE YOU DRESSED LIKE YOU’RE GOING ON A HOT DATE?

Or not. Jusis could see her peeking over the back of the seat and grinning like she’s got him. Which she kinda did. Damn it. Time to deny, deny, deny.

JUSIS: I am *not* dressed like I’m going on a “hot date”, as you so charmingly put it. This is simply my casual attire.

MILLIUM: “CASUAL ATTIRE”?? DUDE, YOU LOOK LIKE YOU’RE GOING TO HEIMDALLR’S HOTTEST NIGHTCLUB OR SOMETHING!! GONNA GO PARTY DOWN WITH MACHIAS???? XD

Frowning even more deeply, Jusis looked down at his black button-down shirt and light gray pants. All right, perhaps the lacing on shirt sleeves and the belt around his thigh was a bit much, but did it really look like he was desperate to “party down with Machias”? Honestly, he had no idea what even goes on in her mind sometimes. Still, this needed to be addressed.

JUSIS: One, no. Two, do you honestly see him as the “partying down” type?”

MILLIUM: HAHA LOL NO, NOT UNLESS THERE’S CHESS-BASED RAVES OR SOMETHING

Jusis failed to hold in a laugh. If sick chess raves existed, Machias would definitely find one. He proceeded to ignore the cheeky finger guns Millium was pointing his way and sent a message back.

JUSIS: So there you have it. This is not “hot night club” attire.

MILLIUM: THAT’S STILL NOT SAYING IT’S NOT HOT DATE CLOTHES THO~~~~~~~~~~ >_>

Jusis removed his sunglasses and rubbed his temple with his free hand. That girl is absolutely relentless sometimes, he thought. And worse yet, she was actually on the right track. He saw only two options before him: own up to what he was doing and chance more teasing, or keep dancing around the questions and definitely receive more teasing. Making his choice, he put the sunglasses back on and picked up the orbment again.

JUSIS: … I will admit visiting Regnitz is part of why I’m heading to Heimdallr, yes. But it is *not* a “hot date”; I simply wish to see more of the city and as a resident of it, he would make an excellent guide.

MILLIUM: AAAAAAAAAAAAND~~~~~~??

JUSIS: “And” what?

MILLIUM: C’MON EVERYONE KNOWS YOU TWO ARE SMOOCHIN, IT’S TOTALLY A HOT DATE!! >3> <3

The palm of Jusis’s hand audibly met his face, attracting a look from a couple of the car’s other occupants. He waved them off to indicate he was fine, then swiftly sent the girl another text.

JUSIS: *Must* you put it like that?!

MILLIUM: IT’S TRUE, THO~~~~~~~!! JUSI AND MACHI, SITTIN IN A TREE, K-I-S-S-I-N-G~~~ >3> >3> >3>

JUSIS: And I suppose *you’re* the baby in the baby carriage in this scenario?

MILLIUM: OF COURSE, GRAMPY CARL HAS ALREADY ACCEPTED ME! ^o^

“”Grampy Carl’,” Jusis muttered in disbelief. Why Machias’s father still insists in entertaining that joke is still beyond Jusis. Pity, maybe? Whatever, he thought. That was beside the point. The point is this was ruining his tranquil train ride and it had to stop.

JUSIS: Putting who I am “smooching” aside, could you perhaps, say, go take a nap or whatever you normally would do on a train ride and leave me alone? My personal affairs are none of your concern.

MILLIUM: BOOOOOOOOOO, FIIIIIIIIIINE. ONE MORE QUESTION, THO. WHO’S THAT GUY IN THE BACK IN THE SUNGLASSES WHO KEEPS LOOKING AT YOU?? OnO

JUSIS: What

MILLIUM: SUNGLASSES, STUFFY SUIT, BEHIND YOU ON MY SIDE.

Closing the device, he turned his gaze to Millium, noting she had moved further down the seat towards the window. For a hyperactive ball of energy, she’s quite clever, he noted to himself. Looking at her allowed him to catch the person she was referring to out of the corner of his eye, and… damn it. Double damn it. He was certain he hadn’t been followed out of the mansion! How was he found so quickly?!

JUSIS: … thank you for the warning. That person is part of my staff; he must have been… concerned about my departure. You have nothing to worry about regarding my safety.

Making a “V” with her fingers, Millium winked at him. Subtlety, thy name is Orion.

MILLIUM: NO PROBLEM! MILLIUM: SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, YOU KINDA SNUCK OUT, HUH?? XD XD XD

He froze in place for a moment. He was caught, and he knew it. And with her mouth, everyone who was in their former class would know by nightfall that he had basically slipped away from his duties just to see his loud, chess-obsessed significant other. Time to try to reframe this.

JUSIS: … I wouldn’t call it “sneaking out”, but I did decide to strike out on my own without advance warning today, yes.

MILLIUM: THAT’S TOTALLY SNEAKING OUT, DUDE!!!! XD

JUSIS: It’s not “sneaking out” if I left contact information and instructions to contact me immediately if something urgent arises.

MILLIUM: TOTALLY STILL SNUCK OUT~~~~~~~~ \o/

Jusis could feel his eye twitching. How much longer was it until the train reached his stop? He couldn’t recall, but it couldn’t be soon enough. He briefly considered messaging Machias just for somewhat more rational conversation, but he might accidentally tip his hand if he did so. Not that apparently his attire wouldn’t give his plans for a nice day out away the moment Machias set eyes on him anyway, if Millium was correct. Triple damn it.

MILLIUM: HAHA, LOOK AT THAT VEIN IN YOUR FOREHEAD THROB!! YOU REALLY *DO* NEED A DAY OFF, HUH??

Finally, a ray of hope. He could work with this.

JUSIS: Yes. Yes, I do. And I would *like* to enjoy the rest of this train ride in peace. So if I may, I shall be excusing myself from this conversation now.

MILLIUM: AWWWWWWWWW, FINE, I GUESS. BUT CAN I AT LEAST SIT WITH YOU? IT’S BORING BEING ALONE.

Jusis paused, staring at the orbment in his hand. She’s far too energetic and noisy, but she did tip him off that he was being followed, and if he had to be pressed to tell the truth, it was a bit lonely sitting alone for him too.

JUSIS: … that depends, can you behave the rest of the way to the station?

MILLIUM: SURE CAN! CROSS MY HEART AND HOPE TO DIE, STICK A NEEDLE IN MY EYE!

He heaved a sigh before typing his response.

JUSIS: Fine, come over.

With an exclamation of “YAAAAAY!”, Millium bounced over to where Jusis was sitting and promptly took the seat next to him. And lest Jusis think the end was in sight, she squinted at the design set in dark gray on his shirt. “Isn’t that your family crest?” she asked.

His palm met his face for the second time this trip. This was going to be a very long train ride, wasn’t it?

#trails of cold steel #trailskiseki #my fic

0 notes

wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 7 years

Note

Do you know of any fics where Stiles is a werewolf while Derek is a human? I haven't had much luck while searching.

AND

Anonymous said:Do you guys have any role reversal? Where the script is flipped because someone else is the born werewolf, or where someone else gets bitten?

Yup! For anon and @imjustanawkwardgoth! - Anastasia

Do You Even Lift? by smokesforsterek

(1/1 I 818 I General)

As for a prompt ... Maybe some Sterek where Stiles is the werewolf and Derek is that adorable human being? If not, let me know and I'll think up something else.

So, I had to think about this one a little, my initial idea was filthy smut but after thinking it over, I wanted to do something a little different? So here is Derek and Stiles having a weight lifting competition.

Remember That I Love You by DerekHaleGirl97

(3/? I 3,819 I Mature)

What happens when the person you care about suddenly doesn't exist anymore? If all of your memories of them were taken away to the point where they never existed? If you couldn't recall how you meet them, who they were, or why they were ever important to you in the first place?

Would they still be important?

Stiles feels that something is missing. He can feel it in his heart. In his soul. Stiles can't recall ever losing anything, but maybe that's the problem? Maybe something is keeping him from remembering, and he has no idea what it could be.

What is Stiles missing?

Why is he missing it?

And why does he feel so empty without it?

The Five Stages of Sexing Derek Hale by FionaRex (orphan_account)

(3/5 I 3,828 I Explicit)

Derek Hale is the creative writing teacher at Beacon Hills High School. Derek Hale lives in a town full of asshole alphas. Derek Hale is a human emissary for Talia Hale. Derek Hale is going into heat soon. Derek Hale will not look at or talk to Stiles when he does. He MUST NOT talk to Stiles. Well, considering Gerard wants him for unknown reasons and Scott's pack is working with Talia's pack, that seems pretty impossible. Well, damn.

I'm Hunting on the Night (We're Playing for the Fights) by PaddyWack

(1/1 I 6,137 I Teen)

Stiles is the unfortunate wolf that gets into some trouble during his moon cycle. Derek is the hapless hunter that finds him.

Or, the one where Stiles steps in a bear trap and has to be rescued.

Trust me, I'm a werewolf. by spac3bar7end3r

(4/? I 6,118 I Teen)

Stiles rolls his eyes at Scott because ten years as a best friend and he hasn’t changed. Even an alpha bite can’t do anything to his friend’s brain at all.“Dude! Spiderman is a fictional character!”“Werewolf used to be one too until you mentioned it!”“Duh. Just because you’ve never seen it doesn’t mean it’s not real. “ Stiles sighs. His voice is pitch higher than usual when he tries to win an argument.“Prove it, “ Scott says with seriousness. He still doesn’t really believe it though.“Scott, trust me, I’m a werewolf.”

who's gonna run this town tonight by callunavulgari

(1/1 I 6,880 I Mature)

“So,” Derek says, after they break free of the preserve. They’re maybe ten minutes away from the station. “Who is it? The John Doe?”

“Should you really be asking me that, Deputy Hale?” Stiles mutters into his knees, voice strangely weak for someone who spent the last thirty minutes mouthing off to the people arresting him. “I’m not afraid of you,” Derek says before he can stop himself, glancing quickly at the road before returning the majority of his attention to the rear-view.

“Maybe you should be,” Stiles whispers, and Derek jolts like he’s been hit. He returns his attention to the road, ignoring Stiles slumping back into his seat, so he almost misses the quiet voice from behind him. “Scott McCall. Someone killed my brother and I mean to find out who the fuck did it. Nobody’s going to stop me, not even you.”

To Be Alive by funkmetalalchemist

(8/8 I 7,193 I Mature)

Derek is a human. One night, he meets a werewolf named Stiles who begins to insert himself into Derek's life bit by bit.

Broken Lines by lilithduvare

(2/? I 7,799 I Explicit)

Stiles looked at the woman who used to be his mother dead in the eyes, his blood sitting frozen in his veins from terror and heartbreak. She was still beautiful, even with her husband’s blood covering her mouth and fingers, matching the color of her glowing, inhuman irises, but she wasn’t Stiles’ mother. This monster, who wore that achingly familiar smile, crouching over the mangled and barely recognizable body of Stiles’ father could never be his mother.

--Stiles is turned into a werewolf by his own supposedly dead mother and has to spend the next three years being tortured and terrorized under the Alpha Pack's tender care. But he doesn't break and in the end he makes his escape. Only to get recruited by the American Alpha Council which eventually leads him to cross path with the Hales' only human child, Derek in more ways than one.

The man I'm supposed to be by Narya

(2/? I 8,471 I Mature)

Derek just couldn't understand Stiles at all. For a werewolf he was too loud, talked too much, and smiled too widely. He couldn't take him seriously, no matter how much he scared him sometimes. But Derek was just a human, and he couldn't resist temptation for too long.

little life-giver by The Byger (Byacolate)

(5/5 I 9,039 I General)

It looked like Stiles. Mostly. But there was hair growing out the sides of his face, and his teeth were sharp, and when he reached over to grip at the side of the stall, his hands had become claws. And Derek had to cover his mouth before he screamed because never, never in his wildest dreams had he ever thought he’d actually meet a fairytale monster.

Bonds of Power by Miya_Morana

(2/2 I 18,313 I Teen)

When Stiles suddenly wakes up as an Alpha werewolf and finds out that Derek has become human, he reluctantly accepts Derek’s pack as his while they attempt to find out what exactly happened and how to reverse it. But as they all try to adjust to the situation, the Alpha Pack is breathing down their neck, and they’re going to need all the help they can get to face that threat.

Vise Versa by thedarknovak

(7/28 I 19,868 I Mature)

Once upon a time long before the events of teen wolf began, a butterfly was killed and skewed the events of reality in the universe. This resulted in the Stilinski and McCall family being werewolves, and the Hale family being human. Reality in the Teen Wolf universe is not the same because of this. A cascade of differences are now a reality. Stiles and Scott lose their entire family to a fire.

Or Derek Hale was just a normal human teenager until he gets dragged by his best friend Erica into the forest and she gets herself bit by a rogue werewolf. They also encounter a 23 year old Stiles Stilinski who they thought had long since left the town. Derek’s life spirals into a barrage of supernatural occurrences and a complicated relationship with the lanky werewolf named Stiles.

Or In which some roles are reversed, but also some totally messed up and rearranged. The events of teen wolf happen, but things aren’t the same, things are changed, and characters go through the events in their respective personalities. See chapter notes for a more in depth explanation of my train of thought about this fics inner workings.

tested and pained, blessed and sustained by The Byger (Byacolate)

(4/? I 36,952 I Explicit)

“We spent four days camping in the Rockies just for you to prove it was possible to ‘live off the land’ and ‘get back to your wolfy roots’,” Derek said, bringing up his free hand for those sassy airquotes, “and by the fourth day, you'd snuck into the nearby village before I’d woken up to buy yourself magazines and a skinny latte.”

“I think the point you’re missing here is that I was a true man of the wild for four whole days, Derek. You can’t scoff at that.”

The New Kid by princessmandablackleg

(4/? I 40,091 I Mature)

Derek and his sisters move back to Beacon Hills to start a new life away from New York. However he wasn't expecting Stiles Stilinski and his group of odd friends and their furry secret. Not to mention some secrets from his own family's past to add to the complications.

Ruin me, Alpha. by Lizamineliy

(17/35 I 64,388 I Explicit)

Stiles was bitten when he was 18 years old and since has been an Alpha. He happens to also be the lead singer of "The Pack," a world-famous rock band that his best friends and he started during a time of chaos to spread werewolf awareness.

Derek needs a new job after working as a Personal Assistant (PA) to asshole Jackson Whittemore. Derek happens to land the job as a new PA for "The Pack."

Can he handle the new job and all the work he's cut out for?

Or better yet, can he handle Stiles, the young, hot, Alpha who threatens to turn Derek's moral compass all the way around.

Will he step into the darkness with Alpha Stilinksi or bring him to the light?

#imjustanawkwardgoth

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mutant-jojos · 7 years

Text

In the spirit of Aggressively Arospec Month, I’ve decided to repost the aro Jotaro fic I wrote back in March. Normally I’d just link the AO3 post, but seeing as Tungle.hell doesn’t let outside links appear in tags anymore, I’ll just post it here. It’s short enough, anyway.

This is a very personal piece that was written very hastily, partly as a vent fic, and partly out of bitterness that the one (1) fic in the aromantic tag for JJBA at the time was about Polnareff having a one-sided crush on Kakyoin. It may not be the best fic in the world, but I hope it at least helps someone understand what it’s like to be aromantic. Please don’t forget about us.

Rating: M (Swearing, mentions of sexual stuff) Words: 2,212 Characters: Jotaro and Kakyoin Pairings: NONE Content warnings: Internalized arophobia, whatever the hell you would call mentions of fucking anthropomorphic trains (...it makes more sense in context I swear)

Jotaro lay on his side on his bed, a book in one hand, the other absent-mindedly petting Star Platinum (who was happily gnawing on a sock). On the floor in mostly disassembled heap was Kakyoin, scrolling through his phone with his one intact hand, reading Wikipedia or looking at post-modern surrealist memes or whatever it was Kakyoin did online anyway.

To an outsider, it might have seemed like they were ignoring each other and thus being bad friends, but it was quite the opposite. It was their ideal type of “hanging out”- just enjoying each other’s company, with the freedom to pursue their own interests, and no pressure to interact or search for some sort of compromise instead of doing what they each wanted to do. And besides, they did occasionally engage in conversation, just not to an unnecessary extent.

“Hey,” Kakyoin broke the silence, tilting his head back to look at Jotaro. “If you could play any obscure video game, what would it be?”

Jotaro snorted. “I don’t think I even know any obscure games. I’m not a dorito gremlin like you,” he teased.

“Oh, come on. There’s gotta be at least something weird you’ve always wanted to play,” Kakyoin prodded, smirking slightly.

Jotaro put his book down for a moment as he thought about it, trying to recall any video games that sounded interesting.

“I don’t know… I guess, maybe… Earthbound,” he decided. “Dunno what it’s about exactly, but I heard it’s kinda fucked up. And I guess you get to hit things with a baseball bat, so that’s cool.”

Kakyoin nodded. “I think the plot is like… Zelda, but it’s South Park, and designed to break your spirit,” he described vaguely.

“Oh, in that case I take it back. South Park is obnoxious.”

“It’s not literally South Park,” Kakyoin corrected him. “Just, you know, it’s like grade schoolers from the city doing fucked up shit… or… Look, I’ve never played it, I don’t know,” he admitted finally.

“Well then you shouldn’t have asked me to pick an obscure game,” Jotaro pointed out. “Anyway, I know you only asked so you could tell me about something, so go ahead.”

“I want to play the Fullmetal Alchemist video games,” Kakyoin said resolutely. Clearly, Jotaro had been correct.

Jotaro raised an eyebrow in surprise. “I didn’t know it had video games.”

“Yeah, there’s a couple,” Kakyoin replied. “They’re kind of hard to find these days, so I’ve never managed to get one, but I’ve wanted to play them for a while. I heard there’s one where Ed dies,” he added with a slow, wide-eyed nod, as if sharing some controversial rumor.

“That makes no sense. He’s the protagonist, he can’t die,” Jotaro said with a confused frown.

“I think he like, gets stabbed or something, and then he comes back to life…”

“...Isn’t like, the entire point of the series that people can’t come back from the dead? Like, I’m pretty sure they made that clear in episode 1,” Jotaro pointed out, even more confused.

“I know, it makes no sense. Which is why I totally want to see it,” Kakyoin laughed. “Ed was my first crush, you know.”

Jotaro went quiet for several seconds.

“...Al’s better,” Jotaro mumbled after a while.

“Oh, so Al was your Fullmetal crush?” Kakyoin teased.

Jotaro frowned in disgust. That was not what he’d meant.

“No.”

“Really? Then why are you blushing?” Kakyoin countered with a knowing smirk.

“Because it’s an embarrassing question, now leave me alone,” Jotaro growled, pulling his hat down over his face. The conversation was quickly becoming something Jotaro did not wish to discuss.

“Alright,” Kakyoin gave in, sounding slightly apologetic. “Answer me one question, though.”

“What is it?”

“Who was your first crush?” Kakyoin asked curiously.

Oh no.

Oh no. Shit. Fuck. Oh no. Why did Kakyoin have to ask that question? How the hell was Jotaro supposed to answer that? It wasn’t like he could just say he’d never had one, what kind of 18-year-old had never had a crush? Jotaro realized he’d have to make something up. He petted Star Platinum nervously as he went through mental lists of people, trying to pick someone that sounded reasonable for him to be attracted to.

“...R-Rosalind Franklin,” he decided after a minute, and then mentally kicked himself for being so hasty with his answer. Rosalind Franklin? Really?

“Ok, that’s a lie,” Kakyoin replied.

Jotaro’s eyes widened in horror. “What… what makes you say that,” he deadpanned. He briefly considered stopping time and just leaving, but that would only increase Kakyoin’s suspicions.

“For one thing, you sounded really uncertain and kind of like you were just making that up. And besides, aren’t you gay?” Kakyoin explained.

“Uh.” Was Jotaro gay?

Probably, he thought. It seemed like a reasonable conclusion. How could he be so foolish as to forget he was, evidently, gay? Damn you, Rosalind Franklin.

“What’s up with you? You’re being weirdly dodgy about this,” Kakyoin pointed out, frowning slightly. “Is there something you’re afraid to tell me?”

Jotaro didn’t respond; he didn’t know how to. He was completely backed into a corner. Out of options, he adjusted his hat again, and sighed before reluctantly answering.

“I’m fucked up, Kakyoin,” he said quietly.

“I know, but what’s that have to do with anything?” Kakyoin asked gently.

“I don’t get crushes. I just don’t. I don’t think I can,” Jotaro explained, running his fingers along the brim of his hat nervously. “I don’t even really know what a crush is supposed to feel like. Hell, I thought romance was fake until like, last year,” he added with an anxious laugh.

Kakyoin gave him a confused, slightly worried look. “What do you mean, fake? You thought people only pretend to get married and all that? Jotaro, that makes no sense.”

Jotaro shook his head. “No, not exactly, like… Back in middle school I’d see all these kids dating and shit, and I always thought ‘Oh, they don’t really like each other. Nobody gets those kinds of feelings at this age. They’re just imitating what they see on TV.’ And I guess I just kinda kept thinking that without realizing it, until I was like 17 and then it finally hit me that… It’s just me, I’m the weird one,” he finished with a sigh.

“Oh… I see,” Kakyoin said with a slow, careful nod, as if thinking carefully about Jotaro’s confession. “Um… Sorry I pressured you like that. That was wrong of me,” he admitted apologetically, looking away.

Jotaro gave a little shrug, and pretended to go back to reading his book- though really, his heart was racing too much to pay attention to it. He pulled Star Platinum close to his chest, and held the odd creature like a cat as he tried to calm down, or at least to look calm. Kakyoin had returned to his phone and seemed determined about whatever he was doing, and his lack of real reaction to Jotaro’s confession worried Jotaro. Was Kakyoin angry at him?

The minutes passed in agonizing silence, the only sounds being the ticking of the clock on the wall, the gentle gurgling of the fish tank filter, and the occasional electronic clacking of Kakyoin typing on his phone. As Star Platinum chewed on the sleeve of Jotaro’s hoodie, Jotaro found himself regretting everything he’d said in the past 5 minutes. And then regretting everything he had said ever, in his entire life. He regretted his whole existence. He felt like he’d just ruined his only friendship by admitting just how weird he really was. And sure, he had a laundry list of issues that had never bothered Kakyoin, but surely Kakyoin had to have a limit, right? He wasn’t talking to him, so Jotaro must have finally found the breaking point. This was it. It was all over. Jotaro had fucked up, all because he… didn’t have a crush on Alphonse Elric? Was that the original topic? It didn’t matter. Friendship was dead and so was Jotaro. Happiness was a lie and all roads led to anxiety.

“Hey, are you ok?” Kakyoin asked, breaking Jotaro’s train of thought.

“What,” Jotaro responded flatly, feeling slightly confused. By his side, Star Platinum squeaked and wiggled around in an attempt to escape Jotaro’s too-tight hug.

“You look like you’re kinda freaking out,” Kakyoin informed him sympathetically, as Star Platinum finally managed to slip free, and ran to his bed.

“I’m fine,” Jotaro replied hastily.

“You don’t look fine.”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

Jotaro gave Kakyoin a slow, awkward thumbs up. Clearly the epitome of composure.

Kakyoin frowned worriedly. “Hey, look, I’m not mad at you or anything, I promise. It’s perfectly ok with me that you don’t like anyone,” he assured Jotaro.

“...Are you sure?” Jotaro questioned hesitantly.

“Jojo, you’d still be my best friend even if you were exclusively attracted to anthropomorphic trains,” Kakyoin promised, with a slight laugh.

“Why the fuck would I be into that?” Jotaro exclaimed in disgust, sitting up abruptly.

“I dunno, there seem to be a surprising amount of people who want to fuck Thomas the Tank Engine gijinkas,” Kakyoin replied with a shrug.

Jotaro shuddered. “Please, never say that sentence ever again.”

“Gladly,” Kakyoin agreed.

Kakyoin reformed his body, his unravelled arms and legs pulling together like a retracting yo-yo to return to a human shape, and then sat down at the foot of the bed.

“So I looked up some stuff, and… Forgive me if I’m jumping to conclusions, but from what you said it sounds like you might be aromantic,” he began seriously.

Jotaro frowned at him confusedly. “No, I just said I don’t do romance,” he reiterated, misunderstanding Kakyoin’s statement.

“Not ‘a romantic’, aromantic,” Kakyoin corrected him. “‘A’ as in ‘without’.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s like… supposedly there’s two types of attraction- Ok no, there’s actually more than that, but like as far as dating and all that goes there’s two: romantic attraction and sexual attraction,” Kakyoin began his explanation. “Romantic attraction is all the kissing and getting married and I love yous and all that-” (Jotaro rolled his eyes in disgust) “-And sexual attraction is fairly self-explanatory.”

“Makes sense,” Jotaro said, and looked at Kakyoin expectantly, waiting for him to get to the point.

“So someone who’s aromantic might experience sexual attraction, but not romantic attraction,” Kakyoin finished.

Jotaro paused for a moment to think about this. It certainly seemed logical, sure, but…

“That’s just hypothetical, though,” he decided.

Kakyoin raised an eyebrow. “Well… Sure, I guess you could look at it that way, but most sociological stuff is pretty hypothetical by definition,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but people like that don’t really exist,” Jotaro insisted.

“Of course they do,” Kakyoin argued.

Jotaro gave him an unconvinced look. “So you’re telling me that there are people out there other than me who have never liked anyone, aren’t going to like anyone, and aren’t just royally fucked up in the head?” he repeated sarcastically.

“That’s exactly what I’ve been saying this whole time, yeah,” Kakyoin answered, trying his best to be patient but still sounding ever so slightly irritated.

Jotaro shook his head. “I don’t buy it. That just doesn’t happen to other people.”

“And how would you know, anyway?” Kakyoin countered, to Jotaro’s surprise. “You only have six people you talk to on a regular basis, I swear you leave the house like once every time Halley’s comet comes around, and you don’t use social media much either,” he pointed out. “If all the women in the world shaved their heads, you wouldn’t notice unless it was mentioned in a scientific journal.”

Damn.

“...Fine, I guess you have a point,” Jotaro admitted reluctantly.

Maybe Kakyoin was right. Maybe there was more to it than just Jotaro’s mental health issues. Really, it wasn’t like he wanted to be alone; he’d just grown up so surrounded by romance that he found it hard to believe that there could be anyone out there who felt the same way he did.

But maybe… maybe he wasn’t so broken after all.

Kakyoin gave Jotaro a gentle nudge.

“Besides… Even if you’re the only one in the world, that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you. You don’t have to like anyone. It’s ok,” he promised, gentle yet persistent.

Jotaro stared at Kakyoin for a minute, not sure what to say. He wasn’t really one to express his emotions much, but… Somehow, hearing those words felt like he’d finally found something he’d been searching for his whole life, without even knowing it. Like something was finally going right.

“...Thanks,” he said quietly, and he meant it.

Kakyoin smiled in response, looking almost proud. “Of course.”

“Hey… Don’t mention this to anyone, ok?” Jotaro added as an afterthought. While it was nice that Kakyoin accepted him, the last thing he needed was Joseph “New Crush Every Month” Joestar getting on his back about things.

“Sure,” Kakyoin agreed.

“Thanks,” Jotaro repeated once again. Hesitantly, he reached for Kakyoin’s hand, a quiet, shy gesture of affection.

Kakyoin responded by moving in close to Jotaro’s side, leaning his head against Jotaro. Jotaro sighed contentedly and put an arm around Kakyoin’s shoulders.

“Want to watch a movie?” Kakyoin suggested.

“Yeah.”

Maybe things weren’t so bad after all.

#JJBA #Jotaro Kujo #Aromantic #Arospec #AggressivelyArospecWeek #Writing

23 notes · View notes

sapphireorison · 7 years

Text

Hokay. So. ACOTAR, ACOMAF, and ACOWAR. I finished them. A bit ago. And then I forgot to actual finish this write-up.

I enjoyed them! I have a great many thoughts and it will take a while to unpack them. Fair warning: I’m an editor and some of this is critique. These books hit a good number of my buttons and I legit cried in several different places, so they receive a rec from me. Just--I love to interrogate what I read as well as enjoy it.

Spoilers to follow. :)

:rubs hands together:

Just in case my readers have read some but not all of the books, I’m going to be trying to split thinguses all up. This is difficult b/c I read them mostly back to back and I have a hard time splicing out storylines when I do that. Thank goodness for book summaries.

Book 1: A Court of Thorns and Roses.

I loved the concept of eternal Spring at the Court, and I love the fact that Feyre is so driven. She makes shit happen, throws herself head-first into...not the best plans, let’s be real, but she’s sympathetic and we get a really deep glimpse into her head with the first person PoV. Her crap plans are also very interesting from a character growth standpoint, because she’s flailing around trying to figure out how things work and still willing to dive into the shit half-prepared because she thinks she needs to. I respect that in a protagonist. The supporting characters, Lucien and Alis, are also a lot of fun. I also thought the worldbuilding was fun in that the fae actually use their glamour for pretty much everything, and that there are festivals and rhythms to life. The estate feels very empty on purpose, but the life of the characters seems to extend beyond the page and I quite like that.

One thing I found very interesting was that, as the book goes on, Maas slowly finds her stride. The end of the book is better than the beginning (and the second book better than the first, but that’s getting ahead of myself). Maas’ strength is in interaction person v. person and person v. environment, but until the environment is established, her people can’t properly interact with it. We’re missing too much and the clues aren’t actually clues that a reader can put together--or even recognizes as clues. ‘Ah yes this is a mystery’ isn’t...isn’t helpful. The world doesn’t *quite* exist before it’s explained, which is a bit rough when it’s explained at the rate of ‘clueless newbie in an information-averse environment.’ I speculate that a reason why her series are so popular is that she does very well with cumulative worldbuilding. Or, rather, working within established worldbuilding. When she’s establishing it herself, it’s a little wonky until it takes hold.

I mean, I enjoyed the whole ‘masque masks stuck to everyone’s faces’ thing but it wasn’t incorporated emotionally and then they just pop off. The resolution of that arc factored into the climax but the focus had shifted away almost completely at that point. That’s partially because we get three or four character anchors, and not a lot of secondary and tertiary characters to populate the emotional background of the story, so there are precisely two people she knows/interacts with from Spring Court there Under the Mountain and they’re narratively busy. Plus, masks are a major, ridiculously romantic imagery thing. The decadence. The finery. The masks hiding everyone’s true intentions. But without keeping them important, they don’t have the impact I think was intended.

When Maas DOES incorporate something emotionally, she’s good, imho. See anything she does with tattoos. It’s personal, a body transgression with a dab of body horror, it’s visible and has a major impact on her day-to-day attitudes and the images she strikes in this book and for the rest of the series. I ended up caring very much about that damned tattoo.

On another note, I was /deeply confused/ at the totally blasé attitude the Spring Court had most of the book towards the fact that Feyre had murdered the fuck out of that fae. Like. I didn’t get the vibe that 'something must be going on for everyone to not be beyond pissed off at me.’ I got the the ‘wow, things are moving really fast and everyone’s reactions are a little weird because the main characters need to be together’ vibe. Which turned out not to be the case in, like, any sense, but it was still very distracting. Also, I’m just like, “There is a lot of emphasis on love in this book, but I’m not actually feelin’ it anywhere.” Maybe it’s my aromantic ass talking, but there was a lot of emphasis on the sustaining power of love that didn’t really...okay. I think it’s fair to say that I don’t *get* why love was a driving force for most of the tail end of the book when there were other perfectly valid reasons to take action and/or survive. The main character spent most of the end of the book in an altered state of mind and fixated on an emotion that wasn’t being actionably reciprocated, so that when she won things I was very excited, but when she was floundering in between I stopped being able to quite access the character.

It’s a bit of a left turn at the end into sexy villainess territory, and the altered state of mind thing--like I get why it was done on a narrative level (tho I consider it a bit of a narrative cheat), but it’s also sort of extremely iffy on a ‘future romantic interest’ level.

Overall, though, I liked a lot of the interpersonal play between characters and how the edges don’t always meet. And I like the sense of ‘no, don’t do it! why are you doing this?!’ and ‘yes, do the thing!’ that I as a reader felt depending on the decision that Feyre had to make, and most of the time those character choices were nicely in character.

Book 2: A Court of Mist and Fury

Well. I was spoiled by tumblr for this one, so I knew it was coming, but EVEN SO I was still a little ??? that Tamlin was straight-up the villain. On the one hand, the first book WAS a riff on a Beauty and the Beast narrative, so this is the ‘Beast’ subversion book that digs into the abuse and depression narrative. Which--I actually didn’t mind. The oddest thing was Tamlin going from a very poor fit for a boyfriend to legitimately abusive, which I take to mean (as is alluded to in later bits) that his experience Under The Mountain just...broke him. I was actually watching in the first book for ‘abusive’ cues, and they were little red flags that seemed to have been incorporated into the fabric of the story in the traditional-love-story sense that only in contrast and context analysis appear as big red flags.

So...that’s interesting. Because it was very much a sense of exacerbated personality, without necessarily the seeds of the abusive relationship being developed as such. Even though :waves vaguely at Rhys: that dude’s presence was at least planned, and the mating bond was present at the end of the first book. So yes, it seems abrupt, and I can’t decide if it’s an abrupt that fits or not.

And just as an addendum, I’m not actually interesting in redemption stories (as I know there’s all sorts of discourse surrounding Talmin on tumblr), so I didn’t mind him being the villain and staying that way.

The strength of this book, imho, is its tight focus on healing from abuse. It’s a very specific narrative, very in-depth, and very personal. Feyre is such an emotionally-driven character, and it’s her emotions--conflicting a lot of the times--that are cracked open and chewed-upon. And, actually, it’s her emotions that, well, it’s not that they provide /continuity/ but they actually carry the book. Whatever she’s feeling at that particular moment is encompassing, and it eclipses a lot of the book’s continuity errors and world-building...holes. At least for me, it did, and that’s part of why I enjoyed the story as much as I did. Worldbuilding is my /jam/, so the emotional resonance has to be engaging for me to enjoy a book without a solid foundation.

But part of the recovery-from-abuse narrative is that there’s a lot of emphasis on consent--or at least there’s an attempt at it. Everything at Feyre’s pace as much as possible (a convention broken only for plot, if I recall correctly.) Even if, most practically, there is a lot of organizing Feyre’s life and she doesn’t have a lot of actual control over it, she feels like she does. She is able to accomplish things again and accomplishing those things isn’t a panacea for her depression, but it certainly helps.

What boggles my mind, with respect to the consent thing, is that Feyre very much has no control over her emotions at the best of times, not when she’s vulnerable. But that Maas adds the mating bond/soulbond nonsense.

Okay. FULL DISCLOSURE. I...read soulbond fic. I *enjoy* soulbond fic. But I’m very picky about my soulbond fic. For the most part, I consider it to be a good part manipulative drek where people are attracted to one another for no apparent reason with an automatic love that spans lifetimes.

Which, you know, romantic. (Says the aro lady) But my point is, that the soulbond fics that I really enjoy are the ones that really grapple with the idea that, okay, you didn’t /pick/ the soulbond. You were destined, and that destiny means you had little-to-no free will, consent, or agency in that choice. You feel encompassing...something for a person. Is it love? Is it healthy? And I understand that some people really, deeply enjoy the idea of destiny and the idea that this bond to someone in your soul means you are inherently lovable no matter where you came from or what you’ve done. I, however, resent even the hint of fate, so exploring how people deal with that (beloved) + (fate) thing is simply deliciously fascinating.

However, in context of a recovery-from-abuse narrative it’s, uh...wow. Feyre doesn’t have a choice but to fall in love with this man. For a healing narrative making an attempt to be about giving her choice once more, a soulbond inherently removes that consent *especially* because it’s kept a secret. Feyre doesn’t know what’s going on and can’t make an informed decision about.

But I think what completely flummoxed me was the fact that Feyre’s emotional response to finding out that she had a soulbond was *relief*. ‘Oh, it’s not actually me moving on from the abuser I sacrificed so much for and forming this crazy-strong attachment to this man in what I consider a betrayal of my former love for my abuser.’ She’s happy it’s not her fault. With one soulbond, her conflict over moving on is wiped away and resolved, even when moving on and forming a strong emotional attachment/falling in love with another man is, uh, perfectly natural. especially for someone who runs so much on her emotions as Feyre, even if maybe there’s a bit of concern that Rhys might be a rebound because he’s helping her heal (as not everyone can handle both healing-phase relationships and then the transition to stable-established). I mean, it’s an understandable response for her to be like ‘oh, thank fuck,’ but, um, that’s the end of it. She’s done feeling any conflict because she has cosmic permission to move on.

And tbh, that’s...not an issue with character responses imho. It’s an issue with how the world is built and what function the soulbond serves within a narrative that attempts to emphasize consent...by resolving part of the conflict by make it fate.

So that’s a thing. XD

Anyways, I am definitely of the opinion that this second book was stronger than the first, both emotionally and world-buildingly. And just...the visuals are wonderful. I think out of everything, I loved the visuals the most.

Book 3: A Court of Wings and Ruin

The most recent (last?) book in the series, a Court of Wings and Ruin is by far and away the most solidly established book with respect to the worldbuilding and pre-established character. At this point, the world has accumulated enough that there are repercussions, politics, and things moving and shaking. The narrative expands from tight-focus on specific relationships to an epic continent-spanning conflict with multiple cooperating factions.

It’s, uh, quite a jump.

But first let me just...bang my fists on the table and chant: High Lady Feyre. High Lady Feyre. High Lady Feyre. The simple fact that we get to see her be High Lady and that she embraces it. No matter how the execution of her being High Lady falters, it’s viscerally pleasing that the intent is for her to be a partner. She has a powerful position, a seat at the table, and (although her inexperience is, er, a liability, uh) the ability to change the tide of the epic shenanigans going on all over the place.

Also. Nesta. My love. She shines in this book. I just. I think it says a lot about what your favorite character in any particular book is, and for me, it’s hands down 100-percent Nesta. She’s just so angry and complicated and she lashes out and hurts people and even in the previous books when she’s being stubborn or antagonistic-y and Freyre is pissed off and hurt by her...I just kept thinking to myself: is she supposed to be my favorite? Because she’s absolutely my favorite.

Like, she’s reserved as fuck and ready to cut into people and eat their hearts, and was dragged into Feyre’s bullshit literally kicking and screaming and basically sinking into the Cauldron while flipping the world off. And then she rips part of the Cauldron’s power out with her teeth. Plus, she develops a thing for the one who is clearly the hottest boy character (sorry Rhys, I have a type). I mean, she couldn’t be set up any more perfectly as my favorite character.

Like. I like Feyre, but to be quite honest, I don’t GET Feyre. (I don’t recall if I said that in part one, but whatever, this is part three and a whole different book.) I just...Feyre is emotional to the point where I lose hold of her, because I’m not the same personality type. I can feel what she feels because that’s Maas’ forte as a writer, but that’s about as far as my sympathy goes. I /feel/, but I don’t understand why she acts the way she does on those feelings.

What I do find interesting is the trope evolution of the soulbond thing. It’s like Maas walks it back. It’s a mating bond and it’s physical. It’s not necessarily a ‘meeting of souls’ or ‘one true love’ thing, because there have been crap soulbonds in the past, but a signifier that elf-y genetics decicded they’d create good bebs. Which...holy het, batman, for one, the implication being that only reproducing couples will ever matebond. And two--that’s...a marked difference from the second book. There’s also some confusion as to whether the mating bond is destiny or a result of love. Because more than once it’s referred to wanting the mating bond to snap into place (implying that love can come first), and more often it’s shown that the mating bond is destiny. It’s never clarified if it’s both, or Feyre’s mistaken, or what. Or if it can actually be cancelled, or if it becomes only cancelled for one because it’s ventured by one? Or if there’s an attempt to snap it into place and...

Basically, book three just confuses the shit out of the issue of the soulbond from the straightforward trope-dancing of the second book to attempting to address edge cases without actually clarifying anything.

There is one point, though, where I’m sort of...the series started as one thing and has morphed into somthing entirely different, and the style it’s written in can’t quite support it yet. Namely, there’s a scene where Feyre does a bit of psychic eavesdropping to relive a scene we would not otherwise have gotten to see and just...

That, my friend, is cheating the first-person narrative. It’s invasive, and debatably out of character, and is handle with a ‘sometimes we suck, and we just have to get over it’ conversation, and the invasion is never elsewise addressed. It’s just, like. An errant scene. It’s worked into things, but in such a way that the value of the scene is debatable for as much damage as it causes the narrative.

Which flows into the fact that the narrative can’t sustain the epic battle thing. There’s a deus ex machina at the end, even though it’s not the thing that wins the day. Like, there’s an entirely character PoV and narrative thread that’s just...left out. For three books. Which is a limitation of first person without careful plotting. But the whole end with reinforcements and Lucien and the firebird Queen? Not out of the blue, but like...a whole different book.

And the last thing that I think is interesting that *doesn’t* touch on the Black Jewels trilogy, is part of the inspiration for some of the fae mythology, namely the Black Cauldron.

Or, more rather, the Chronicles of Prydain by Lloyd Alexander, upon which the Disney movie the Black Cauldron was based. The Chronicles themselves are based on Welsh Mythology, notably the Mabinogion. But the Chronicles have the three witches in the swamp (the three death gods?), the fair folk, the land of death with its control of the Cauldron with the power to create an unstoppable army. Of a living sacrifice jumping into the cauldron of their own will being the only thing to shatter it.

(And, hilariously, I did a search for what Maas herself said about Prydain since I was gonna ramble on about it, and it really does seem like they were a major inspiration for her. I found a twitter thread where she laments that he used all the really cool antiquated names for all the places she wants to use. If you wanna see what she says about it, pairing the author names will give you direct quotes from her saying how much inspiration she drew from them.)

It’s just that even though Eyrian and Illyrian are very similar, Illyria is the name of a Baltic country back in antiquity. And her naming conventions for the races aren’t complicated. The angel-people are Seraphim. The falcon-people are Peregryn. She uses a lot of possibly-Greek-inspired words for her mythological faerie people. So while I wouldn’t say Illyrian is a coincidence, it does fit with her rampage through her favorite things, pulling in disparate (and sometimes clashing) elements and knitting them together as she slowly builds her world the best she can.

To me, this feels like a hodgepodge of inspiration, though I know that a lot of people knock the books for tasting very strongly of Bishop’s work. I’d argue that, Prydain and the aforementioned Welsh mythology and Greek references are as much an influence on Prythian as Kaeleer and Terrielle are, at least in the worldbuilding aspects. She even says in interviews that they’re her inspiration. She’s enthusiastic about them in a charming way (I say as an editor of new, baby authors who have this sort of love for their inspiration, too.)

But ‘what is inexpert but honest homage and what is are you sure this isn’t fic’ is a discussion for...later. That I’m half done with. Hopefully I’ll be able to finish and post it sometime soon. :)

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #spoilers #sarah j maas

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thekillingquill · 7 years

Text

Dog Days Are Over

Pairing: Reader x Reggie Word Count: 6,910 Warnings: An animal was definitely hurt in the writing of this fic. There’s probably some swearing. Summary: Reader and Reggie live on the same street and walk the same route with their dogs. A/N: This is in tribute to Ross Butler’s portrayal of Reggie Mantle. Wishing him nothing but the best on all endeavours, but we’ll certainly miss him! Also if at least one person cries I will have considered this a success. Apologies on the lack of proofreading on my part.

“Oh Captain, my Captain!” I call out laughingly to the dark haired boy ahead of me. My dog, Ducky, lunges forward once in an impressive show of strength, dragging me a few steps closer to the boy I grew up down the street from and his faithful companion, Vader. Reggie shoots me a bored look over his shoulder, not replying, but slowing his walk to allow us to catch up.

Reggie rolls his eyes at me as Vader pulls on his leash in an attempt to get to Ducky. The end result is ruined by his half-smirk which looks more amused than annoyed. His dachshund runs between the legs of my Bernese Mountain Dog and she lunges playfully at him once, and then twice, barking and sniffing at him. After a moment the dogs are settled and we begin to walk side by side.

“So, congratulations on getting captain, dude!” I try to strike up a conversation. Reggie grunts in reply and mumbles something in return. “Hey, what’s up? I thought you’d be happy. You were giving Archie hell for that spot.” Reggie rolls his eyes again and grunts louder, but we both know I’m not easily derailed. I open my mouth and he cuts me off before I can really get started.

“Alright already! I guess I’m not that excited ‘cause Coach offered it to Andrews first. He turned it down.” I can tell this is hard for Reggie to talk about. It was a blow to his ego to even have to compete with Archie, but to lose out on it and only get it by default?

“That’s because Archie knows you’re the better man for the job,” I assure him. Reggie gives me that half smirk again and I can tell that he knows what I’m doing but he finds it at least a little endearing.

“Well we all know that. Just sucks that Coach didn’t see it.”

“He’ll see it soon enough, Reginald. Archie saw it, I’ve seen it and I know that a lot of your other teammates have seen it, too. You’re going to be a boss ass Captain.” Reggie rolls his eyes at me and shoulder checks me.

“Oh shit!” He exclaims as I stumble off the edge of the sidewalk, but he’s laughing and that’s what’s important to me in the moment. Shortly after, we arrive at the park and let our dogs off their leashes. Vader takes off like a shot, and Ducky noses around at the grass nearby. Reggie pulls a bright orange ball out of his pocket and tosses it a few times for Vader to chase after. Occasionally Reggie throws the ball towards Ducky and she attempts to get it before Vader races over. I cross my arms over my chest and bite my lip, watching our dogs play. It isn’t long before I notice that Ducky is showing less interest in the game. Reggie teases the dogs by pretending to throw the ball, and she doesn’t react at all.

“Everything okay?” Reggie asks, nudging me with his elbow. I’m not sure if he’s referring to my quiet disposition or Ducky’s lackluster response.

“There’s that Captain spirit,” I try to tease, but my tone falls flat. Reggie wouldn’t be my first choice to unload my feelings on, but he’s here and he asked. I sigh and start to let my worries ease out.

“I’m just worried about Ducky. She’s been tired lately. Not that into her favourite treats or toys. Just been acting off for a few weeks. We went to the v-word a couple of days ago and they ran some tests. We’ve got to go later today to get the results.” I reach around Reggie and steal the ball, taking two steps and throwing the ball as hard as possible for Vader. I imagine that ball is carrying all of my fear, all of my worry, all the bad things away from me.

“Shit, that sucks.” Is all he says. I shrug and Vader drops the ball at my feet.

“As you may recall, we detected some abnormal swelling during our initial examination. We took a sample and had it tested and I’m sorry to have to tell you but it’s not good. The results show that the swelling in Ducky is cancerous…” Doctor Jameson, the veterinarian we have been taking Ducky to since we got her when I was five, is still talking, but I can’t hear her over the buzzing in my ears. I keep my eyes on Ducky who is panting innocently on the examination table while Doctor Jameson parts her fur to show my parents what she’s talking about. When the buzzing stops, she is talking about treatment options.

“And how much would that cost?” My father asks gruffly. He only has the two settings: gruff and drunk.

“The total cost for this particular treatment can range anywhere between $6,000-$10,000. I have to be honest with you, given Ducky’s age and this particular type of cancer, you may want to consider investing your efforts in making her as comfortable as possible.” Doctor Jameson has a soft, confident voice and sympathetic eyes. Ducky loves her and I have always found her to be comforting and steady, even now.

“And how much is that gonna cost us?” My father asks, still gruff.

“Should we be considering, you know…” My mother pipes in, practical as always but sounding sorry to ask. She jabs vaguely at Ducky, a poor gesture that equates to one thing: an injection.

“At this point, it’s something to consider,” Doctor James concedes. For my benefit, she looks me straight in the eye and adds: “This form of cancer can be aggressive.”

“I need some air,” I choke out. I hear Ducky’s nails clicking against the exam table as she rushes to follow after me. We sit in the waiting room for twenty minutes, her sitting against my legs and me with my arms looped around her neck in an embrace that will have to end one way or another. I can’t remember a time where I didn’t have Ducky. Whenever my dad has more than four beers, he likes to tell me about the day he brought Ducky home.

“I must have been out of my fucking mind to bring that thing home. A bunch of us were at the bar after a hard day and my boss announces that his wife’s dog had a little-litter of pups and he offers me one. I lost my damn mind, I said yeah and he brought me to his place and gives me this little runt and I take her home and once she’s in the door I know there’s no getting rid of her. It was love at first sight. Never did understand why you named the damn thing Ducky, though.”

Despite his style of storytelling, I know my dad likes Ducky. He feeds her from the table, and he lets her up on the couch when he thinks no one is home. He even lets her lay her head on his thigh and he plays with her ears. My mom never had pets growing up and she has trouble with the mess that accompanies living with an animal. She is constantly at her wits end about the smudged windows, muddy pawprints on the floor, fur coating the furniture, and during Ducky’s puppyhood, the “accidents” on the rug drove her up the wall.

Her biggest problem with us having a dog was that I wanted Ducky to sleep in my bed with me. Despite my tantrums, my mother insisted on putting Ducky in a crate at night. After two nights of constant whining (me and Ducky), crying (me), and accidents (Ducky), my mother gave up on crating. She tried putting Ducky outside, but I cried even harder and the neighbours complained about her barking. My mom’s last attempt was to get Ducky a dog bed for my room. It didn’t work and mom still complains incessantly about it.

I know they aren’t bad people and that they aren’t intentionally trying to break my heart, but I already know how this ends. Dad is to the point: why wait? Mom is ready to have her clean house back after twelve years. Dad will try to comfort me by saying I’ll get over it. My mom will be kinder and tell me that Ducky won’t suffer anymore. Ultimately, the decision will be made for me. Still, this isn’t easy, but since when is loving something ever easy?

My parents, in a moment of thoughtfulness and compassion, offer to let me skip school on Friday to spend the day with Ducky before….

And mom, in a surprising move, tells me firmly that if I don’t want to do this, then she and dad will figure out a way to make Ducky comfortable until they can’t anymore: “If we have to take a second mortgage out on the house, then we will, baby.”

Then in a very predictable move she reminds me about how uncomfortable this could be for Ducky, how they can’t promise how long it will sustain her… but softens the blow with a hug and a whisper: “These kinds of decisions are never easy and I’m so sorry you have to go through this.”

I cry into Ducky’s neck the whole drive home. On Saturday at 10:00 am, she has her last appointment with Doctor Jameson. The appointment feels like the wrong decision, but letting Ducky exist without finding joy in the things she loves seems wrong, too. Maybe there’s no right decision.

I sniffle and lift my head to look out the window, trying hard to stop crying. It feels like I’ve been crying for close to an hour and my head is pounding. As we pull into our neighbourhood, I can see the blurry form of Reggie in his front yard tossing a ball to one of his friends (I can’t tell who it is through the never ending onslaught of tears).

I try hastily to hide my crying before getting out of the car where Reggie and his friend could possibly see me. Unfortunately, it’s kind of impossible to hide the kind of crying that comes with having a broken heart. My eyes are so swollen it hurts to blink and the ache of my throat makes swallowing nearly impossible. I take a deep breath and get out of the car, holding the door for Ducky. I try to ignore how slow she moves as she gets out, just one of the many signs I’d been purposely blind to for weeks.

The sound of the door shutting must bring their attention to me.

“Hey, Y/N-” I turn away hastily from who I now know is Moose and take determined strides to my house. I’m too embarrassed by the state of myself to care about being rude. I wait for Ducky in the doorway and look at the porch, suddenly wracked by sobs that quickly turned into desperate gasps for breath. Watching her move so carefully over the steps hurts, so I close my eyes until I feel her wet nose press against my fingers like she was saying it’s okay, Y/N, it’s okay. I’m here, I’m here.

I don’t have much of an appetite that night, but we all sit around the table and pick at dinner. I tell my parents about the day I have planned and we all pretend to not notice one another feeding Ducky under the table. Her wet nose presses against my bare knees, snuffling for more scraps and I scratch behind her ears to comfort myself as I speak.

That night I sleep pressed as close as possible to Ducky, not caring about any noxious gas she might emit or that her fur tickles my nose. I just want to hold her while I still can.

We get up bright and early on Friday so that we can get the most out of the perfect day I planned for her: we’re going to go to Pop’s and I’m going to let her have more burgers than she’s ever had in her life and then we’ll go to the park and end our day at a dog beach two hours outside of town. Dad, in a show of kindness, has offered us the use of his car.

Except when I open the front door, it’s Reggie Mantle and his car sitting in the driveway instead of my dad’s trusty old Toyota. His arm is hanging casually out of the open window, a pair of sunglasses resting atop his head and Vader standing with his front paws on the steering wheel. Ducky, seeing her friend, pushes out from behind me and jogs down the front steps to greet them with more energy than I was expecting.

“Are you coming or what?” Reggie calls to me sarcastically. He’s rolling his eyes, but he’s smiling, too. It’s a rare sight, a Reggie Mantle smile.

“Is this a prank?” I ask him suspiciously, letting my tote fall to the porch and my dad’s keys dangling uselessly from my fingers.

“What kind of prank would this be? The kind where I’m gonna get you and your little dog, too? Get in the car, loser! We’re burning daylight here.” He bangs his hand against the door causing Vader to slip and honk the horn. I move slowly to the driver side of the vehicle, still not quite trusting the situation, and stick my head in. Ducky, knowing better than to jump up on someone’s car, is jogging in circles looking for a way in.

“Reginald, what exactly do you think you are doing in my driveway at 8:30 am on a Friday?” Reggie looks uncomfortable, which usually means he’s moments away from being sincere.

“Your parents called me last night.” Reggie lets that statement linger a moment before he recovers. “Look, Ducky’s practically my dog-in-law. You can’t really think you can plan the perfect day for her and not include Vader.”

For the first time since the appointment, I smile. It’s small, but it gives me a renewed energy.

“Will you just get in the car already?” He snaps and I pull my head back abruptly.

“Right, come on, Ducky! Let’s go.” I open the backseat and coax Ducky to jump up. Reggie’s SUV is a bit higher up than dad’s Toyota, but between me and the captain of the football team we should be able to get her in and out without any issues today. I hop into the passenger seat and narrowly avoid getting headbutted by Vader as he dives into the back seat to be with Ducky.

“So where are we headed?” Reggie asks as he reaches behind my seat to look over his shoulder. He slowly eases out of my driveway and I try to ignore how appealing I find his cologne.

“Pop’s to get burgers.” I answer confidently. Reggie faces forward and removes his arm from behind my seat.

“Okay… but normal people tend to go to Pop’s at 8:00 am for breakfast foods like waffles or french toast.” He says as he switches gears. Despite his statement, he takes the turn towards Pop’s.

“Pop’s to get burgers.” I repeat forcefully.

Much to Reggie’s delight, the waitress at Pop’s had the same reaction to my order.

“You want ten burgers? Is this a joke I’m not getting or sumthin’? You realize it’s breakfast time, right?”

“Yeah, I’m aware of that, thank you very much.”

I couldn’t imagine Ducky’s perfect last day without Reggie and Vader. With them by our side, the day feels epic. We spend the morning walking around the park and throwing a few balls for Vader to fetch. My mind is preoccupied with all the other times Ducky and I spent at the park and Reggie listens to story after story and even adds a few of his own.

“Do you remember when you were like eight years old and your dad had you hold her leash while he got his tools out of the back of his car? She saw that squirrel and dragged you through your lawn and mine before your dad got her to stop. You must have weighed like 40 pounds! And you had all of these grass stains. It was hilarious!”

We laugh together at the memory and the more I smile, the better I start to feel. Reggie and I bump shoulders and eventually he puts his arm around me and runs his palm over my shoulder in a surprisingly comforting gesture.

Before we leave the park I let Ducky have two of her burgers. It’s still early in the day, so I ask Reggie if he minds driving around for a bit with the windows down. He lets me navigate and pick the music. With all four windows rolled down, my hair whips around wildly. The sight of it causes Reggie to laugh which in turn causes me to laugh. In the back seat, Ducky and Vader both have their heads out the window, basking in the scents of their town. I use the side mirror to watch them and Reggie pretends not to notice when I start crying.

I wipe my tears and reach for one of the water bottles Reggie procured at a gas station. Our hands meet and he doesn’t let go.

The dog beach is mostly vacant in the middle of the afternoon on a Friday. Reggie points out a pug wearing a lifejacket standing in the shallows. Vader disturbs the pug by racing into the water, trying to start a game of chase. Ducky, however, bypasses them both and begins to swim out to the middle of the lake. I laugh at her excitement and shimmy out of my shorts.

“I hope you brought your swimsuit, Reginald.” I tease as I pull my shirt over my head.. I take advantage of his shock to throw my clothes in his face. “There’s a beach blanket in my bag!” I yell back at him as I run after my dog.

Reggie starts in on some of Pop’s burgers while he sits on the beach, watching Ducky and I play together. I continue to tread water for a while even after Ducky has returned to the beach. I watch her, Reggie and Vader resting on the blanket and commit the moment to memory. Reggie offers Ducky another burger and my own hunger drives me out of the water.

There’s a sudden rush of guests at the dog beach and Vader runs off to make friends. Reggie follows after him, leaving Ducky and I alone for the first time today. She’s laying on her side, breathing deeply and I scooch down so that I can rest my head on her stomach. I shut my eyes for a moment and let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

I must fall asleep because when I open my eyes again, the light has changed and Reggie is running his fingertips along the arch of my foot. I giggle and kick, rolling onto my side and pushing myself up.

“Jesus, how long was I out for?” Reggie smirks and pulls at a loose thread on our blanket. Vader is curled up in front of us, his fur still damp and my clothes are in a bunched up pile next to him. The sky is alight with oranges, purples and pinks reflecting hauntingly off the water.

“Hours, babe.”

“Don’t call me babe, Reginald.” I sit up fully and pull my shirt over my head with a sigh.

“Whatever you say, babe.” I scoff and roll my eyes, but ultimately let it go. Sitting on the dog beach with Ducky asleep beside me, watching the sunset with Reggie and Vader, felt peaceful. My heart is still broken, but it was a good day full of more laughter than tears. I feel the warm weight of Reggie’s arm across my back followed by his fingers curling around my shoulder, pulling me close to his side.

“I’m glad you let me come.” He mutters, pressing his mouth against my temple in a not-quite-a-kiss.

“I had a choice?” I joke weakly, pressing myself closer to hide my face in his shoulder. I press my mouth against his t-shirt in a not-quite-a-kiss and let the moment wash over me again and again and again.

“It’s okay if you decide you don’t want to be there for this.” I’m sitting on the stairs, trying to find the will to put on my shoes. Ducky is sitting next to me, sticking her nose in my ear. I look up at my mom and give an unconvincing smile, but remain silent. We got home from the beach late last night and my mom let us sleep in which means I haven’t had the opportunity to shower. My hair feels disgusting from the lake water, so I’ve pulled it into a side ponytail. Ducky is loving the unrestricted access to my ear.

“You sure you wanna do this, kid? Your mom and I will be with her. She won’t be alone when she goes.” Dad is gruff as always, but this time I vocalize my response, forcing my foot into my last sneaker and standing.

“I need to do this.” My parents exchange a look that only they can understand. With my shoes on and Ducky’s leash clipped to her collar, we have no other excuses to stay home. When we step out the front door, I see Reggie Mantle in my driveway for the second day in a row. He’s wearing his letterman jacket and a pair of dark wash jeans, his hands buried deep in the pockets. He pulls one of his hands out and raises it in a wave. Ducky heads straight to him, slower than yesterday, and I follow quickly behind.

“Reginald, what are you doing here?” I ask in greeting. I have never seen Reggie look more uncomfortable. He squeezes his eyes shut tightly and rubs the back of his neck.

“I thought maybe I could come with you…?” I think it surprises us both when I accept. My parents don’t question Reggie when he gets into the back seat with Ducky and I, but my dad looks extra gruff. It’s a tight fit with all three of us back there, but it doesn’t matter because I want to be as close as possible to Ducky. I bury my face in her fur and feel Reggie’s fingers move through it in a calming manner. Occasionally the pad of his index finger drags down my cheek. His touch is soft and warm and I cling to each moment of contact for comfort. As panic threatens to overwhelm me, I begin to count each occurrence of an accidental caress. I’ve counted to twenty-one by the time we pull into the parking lot.

I’m visibly shaking when we get to the door of the veterinarian’s office. Reggie puts his hand on my lower back and it steadies me momentarily.

“You don’t have to come in,” my mom offers again, smiling at me sympathetically. She’s wrong and she’s been wrong every time she’s offered it before. Ducky is my dog and I have to be there for her. I won’t take the easy way out. I need to be there for her just like how she was always there for me. I shake my head and imagine that my bones are made of steel and remind myself to be strong for myself and for Ducky. In spite of this, I continue to walk on legs that tremble with each step forward.

Doctor Jameson is waiting in the lobby for us with a sad smile. A ringing is starting in my ears and I worry that I might be going deaf on top of all the other shit I have to deal with. She leads the way to an exam room where a veterinarian’s assistant has just finished her preparations. She gives me a sympathetic smile and squeezes my arm as she passes. Ducky can’t get up on the table on her own, most likely due to our adventure yesterday, so my dad and Reggie work together to lift her.

“She won’t feel anything,” Doctor Jameson says. She looks me square in the eye and I feel her passing some of her strength on to me. “Some people find it comforting to pet them.”

My hand quivers as I reach out and bury it in the thick fur on Ducky’s side. At my touch Ducky’s head lifts and her eyes strain to see me. She is my best friend and I know she can sense the wreckage inside of me. As I look into Ducky’s eyes, I have to choke back tears. The effort of it worsens my shaking and Doctor Jameson has to put her hand on Ducky to prevent her from getting up.

I break and let out an inhuman sob. I suck in air desperately and before I fully descend into grief I say his name: Reggie. Not Reginald, or Captain, but Reggie. I sound utterly wrecked to my own ears and I can’t imagine what my parents think about my behaviour, let alone him. It is a nanosecond before I feel one of his arms come across my torso from behind and the other secures a tight grip on my waist. He’s holding me up, I realize. I am no longer capable of standing on my own.

“She’s gone,” Doctor Jameson whispers and I turn and grip fistsful of Reggie’s shirt, crying so hard that the sound can only be heard by the sensitive hearing of a dog.

I spend my weekend crying and sleeping. Before we left, Doctor Jameson gave my dad Ducky’s collar. It’s a black collar with skulls wearing flower crowns adorning it. I saw it at a flea market and knew it would be beautiful around her neck. I cling so tightly to it that I lose sensation in my fingers for hours. At some point, Reggie brings Vader over to visit. I was too tired from crying to be of much fun. He holds me until I fall asleep for what must be the third time that day. When I wake up, my back is pressed to his chest and our fingers are linked and the back of his hand is resting against the bare skin of my collarbone. Vader is asleep between our legs, his head resting on my calf.

My parents let them stay the night and on Sunday Reggie gets a call from his mom and has to leave. Before he goes, he presses his forehead against my temple and gives my arm a squeeze.

On Monday, Reggie stuns me by approaching me at my locker to ask me how I’m doing. He looks tired and his voice is soft, eyes serious. Not once does he roll them at me. It’s enough to convince me to tell him the truth.

“I keep seeing her everywhere. Like, out of the corner of my eye I think I see her waiting at the top of the stairs, or laying on my bed… but the hardest part is trying to get used to sleeping alone. I haven’t slept alone in ten years, Reginald. To make matters worse, my mom and dad have their yearly couples retreat this weekend. They offered to cancel, but they only did that so that they don’t seem like dickheads. See, if I accept their offer, then I’m the dickhead. Because they expect me to say I’m fine it’s no problem, sure leave me home alone. They just offered so they can at least they say they did. And when they feel bad on their trip they can comfort each other by saying that they offered and I said it was okay. It was never really an offer. It was a societal expectation that has been checked of their list.”

He doesn’t roll his eyes or smirk or smile, he just stares. And I know right then and there that I’ve officially become too much drama for Reggie Mantle. So it’s completely out of left field when I open my door and find Reggie Mantle in my driveway for the third time in a week.

“Hey, Y/N.” My eyes are roaming over him hungrily, taking in as many details as I can. It’s not until this moment that I realize I was scared that I’d only ever seen him again at a distance--at football games, in his yard, in the halls at school.

He lets me look like he understands what I was feeling. I finally focus on the tote he has hanging over one shoulder and Vader’s empty leash in the other hand. “So, I need a favour.”

I raise an eyebrow and sag against the porch railing, gesturing with my hand for him to continue. I’m hoping that the gesture looks cool and indifferent as opposed to what it really is: relief. Relief that Reggie will still talk to me, that he is here in my driveway and that he thought of me when he realized he needed something. Relieved that all our progress from neighbours to friends appears to be in tact.

“So my aunt was admitted to the hospital last weekend and we’re going to be heading to Texas for the weekend to see her and help take care of my cousins. Would you be able to dogsit Vader?” My mouth falls open in shock.

“Dogsit?” I repeat, aghast. Reggie has the gall to smirk at me and roll his eyes.

“Yeah, dogsit. I figure I’d ask you because it’s not like you have plans, right? If you’re too busy, though, Moose can watch him, but he lives pretty far from the park...”

“Don’t be a smart ass, Reginald.” He smirks again, it’s a smug twist of his lips like he’s just won. He whistles and Vader comes racing from down the street, his momentum taking him past Reggie and closer to me. I pat my knees and Vader lopes up the steps and circles my legs with excitement.

“Oh my god, he’s not even going to miss me, is he?” He’s trying to joke with me, but it’s not working. There’s a disconnect between us, an awkwardness because Ducky is gone, but Vader is here. My heart is shattered, his is whole. But Reggie’s had a taste of what it will be like and it has shaken him, at least a little.

“He’ll miss you every second.” I promise him. Before Reggie leaves, I ask him what happened to his aunt.

“Cancer,” he says. And I know we are both thinking of Ducky.

Vader and I spend a lovely weekend together. He likes to sleep under my blankets, curled up against my stomach. We go for walks at the park and the ache of missing Ducky is still there, but I don’t cry once. When we walk home from the park, Vader tugs the leash in the direction of his home and I know that he misses Reggie, just like I said he would. When Reggie gets back from Texas, he finds Vader and I playing fetch in the park. He looks sullen until he spots us.

“Oh Captain, my Captain!” I call in greeting. Reggie surprises me by wrapping his arms around me from behind and lifting me clear off my feet. “Reginald!”

He puts me back on the ground, but continues to grip me tightly. We sway from side to side and then Vader is jumping all over his master.

Every day Reggie knocks on my front door and invites me to walk Vader with him. We talk about simple things, sometimes we share memories of Ducky and I start to heal with their help. One day, I broach the topic of getting a new dog with my parents. They surprise me by saying that they will consider it, but that they think I still need some time.

“You can’t just replace a dog,” my dad announces gruffly. After Ducky has been gone for six months, I ask again and they give their blessing to start looking at shelters.

Reggie is the first person I tell and after several walks I find the courage to ask him if he and Vader will go with me to the shelter. He thinks it’s weird, but he humours me.

“Listen Reginald, Vader is like my dog-in-law. Any new dog of mine has to accept that if they want to be part of the family.”

We’re on our fifth visit to the shelter when I meet Jaspar, a mutt with a sweet disposition who is twice the size of Reggie’s daschund (or as I call him in private, Reggie’s better half). Jaspar’s amber eyes have a regal air about them and seem older than his estimated four years. He’s got short, tawny fur and a white marking on his rump that almost looks like a raindrop. I go into his kennel to meet with him and offer him my hand. He sits and leans forward to sniff at my fingers. Slowly he descends to the floor and rolls to his side.

On our sixth visit, we arrange for Jaspar and Vader to have an introduction. They bond almost instantly.

“I think he’s the one,” I tell Reggie with a hopeful smile. Reggie rolls his eyes and smirks.

“Then what are you standing around here for? Go get your dog!” With his encouragement driving me, I put in the adoption paperwork that day, without consulting my parents. When Reggie and I bring Jaspar home, my father is gruff and my mother is annoyed. In Reggie’s presence, they restrain themselves and it all feels so normal.

It’s possible that I am more excited for our first walk together than Jaspar is. I laugh when he picks up the end of his leash and drops low to the ground with his tail wagging high in the air. My excitement is clearly contagious. I grab for the leash and he playfully jumps to the side, just out of reach. The game ends when Reggie knocks on the door. I make sure I have a good grip on Jaspar’s leash and open the door. Immediately our dogs lunge toward each other with tails wagging. I grin at Reggie over their heads and he smirks back at me. It takes a few minutes for them to calm down enough to start our walk. There’s something charging the air between us, more obvious today than any other day.

As we begin our walk, Reggie’s fingers interlock with mine and suddenly we are holding hands. Not long after that, Jaspar makes an attempt at a squirrel and I need both hands to get him under control again. Reggie doesn’t take my hand again and I try not to feel disappointed.

It’s not long until we reach the park. At this time of day there are only one or two people here. We let our dogs off their leashes and I’m a little nervous for Jaspar. What if he takes off? What if he and another dog get into an altercation?

Reggie pulls a purple ball out of his pocket and throws it to the other end of the field. Both dogs sprint after it and Jaspar catches it on its second bounce. Reggie’s arm reaches around my waist, startling me. He pulls me close and rests his chin on my head.

“Stop worrying,” he tells me firmly. He lets me go to throw the ball again and this time he pulls me into a tight hug, resting his cheek on my shoulder and burrowing his nose in my hair.

“Y/N?” He mumbles. I swallow thickly and focus on keeping my voice steady.

“Yes, Reginald?”

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for months.” He confesses before pulling away. Vader has been waiting for his attention and drops the ball at Reggie’s feet, barking and twirling, look at me, Reg, look at me! Throw the ball, pal, come on, throw it! I’ve been patient. Reggie throws the ball into the bushes this time, but doesn’t reach for me again.

“You could, you know. Kiss me, that is. I’d be okay with it.” I say out loud. Reggie raises his eyebrows and rolls his eyes at me.

“Oh, you’d be okay with it, would you?” He puts one hand on my hip and the other pushes my hair away from my face.

“Don’t be a smart ass, Reginald.” He smirks at me smugly and leans down. Just when I think he’s about to kiss me, he pauses. I gasp at the nearness of him and I know he’s smirking.

“Oh Captain, my Captain,” I whisper and put a hand against his cheek to pull his mouth to mine. His lips are warm and I’m nearly overwhelmed by the sensation of it. It heats me from the inside out. His kiss is firm, decisive, and I part my lips slightly, allowing my tongue to sample the taste of his bottom lip. He squeezes my hip and presses his mouth harder to mine. I reciprocate in kind and suck gently. He pulls back, inhaling deeply through his nose.

“I wish I hadn’t waited so long.” He mutters, framing my face with his warm hands. I reach up to hold his wrists and give him a smirk of my own. He bites his lip and avoids my eye, stepping away from me. He gently pulls his wrists from my grasp and leans down to scoop up the ball that has been deposited at our feet. He whistles to get Jaspar and Vader’s attention, showing them the ball and moving it from left to right. Their eyes remained trained on their hearts desire: the ball. I keep my eyes firmly on Reggie. Eventually he throws the ball into the bushes and our dogs speed away.

“Hey,” I say, demanding with my voice that he look at me again. I reach down for his hand and press it firmly to my cheek, nuzzling it. His thumb strokes my temple and I melt into him. “What’s up?” I ask, forcing my half-lidded eyes to open. Reggie sighs, letting his eyes fall shut as he touches his forehead to mine.

And then Jaspar hits me in the back of the knees with his front paws, nearly sending me falling. Reggie’s quick reflexes allow him to let go of my face and grip my waist instead. Once I’m steady on my feet, Reggie releases his grip on me and growls. He scoops up the ball, throwing it aggressively back to the bushes. His hands come up to grip his hair.

“We’re moving to Texas at the end of the year.” He’s yelling it to the park, pacing like a caged tiger. He sighs and lets his hands fall to his sides. “I’m moving after school is out. My aunt isn’t doing well and she needs full-time care. It’s such a fucking mess.” He kicks a rock and Jaspar turns to investigate while Vader drops the ball at Reggie’s feet. He kicks the ball, too and the dogs run off again.

“I’m sorry,” I say, because I don’t know what Reggie needs to hear right now. “I know you worked really hard for your captaincy, but Texas has amazing football programs. Even if you don’t make captain at least you’ll be playing with people who share your passion for it!” Reggie’s expression is aghast and I force myself to stop babbling.

“It’s just…” Reggie squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath. He opens his eyes and focuses them on me with the intensity I’ve only ever seen him exhibit on the football field.

“I… Vader doesn’t want to go, not now that he has Jaspar to hang out with. It feels like he and Jaspar really have something special together. Vader’s not ready for it to be over. He doesn’t want their time together to be nothing because to Vader, it’s been everything.”

“Reginald,” I start, swallowing thickly. “Your inability to confront your own emotions can be a real dick punch, you know that?” Reggie shouts a laugh and presses his fist to his mouth in surprise. To avoid looking at him, I throw the ball and imagine my fear going with it.

“I can’t believe you just used the words dick punch in a sentence.”

“Well you’re a terrible influence. Jesus Reginald, this was never nothing. It’s been everything to me, too. And if I learned anything from this year, it’s that caring about stuff can be painful, but it’s so worth it. So maybe you disagree, but I want you for as much time as we have left, nothing held back. You, me, and our best friends.” Jaspar has decided that he does not want to drop the ball, but Reggie is working to coax it out. It is covered in dog slime, and Reggie has to wipe his hands on his jeans after he’s thrown it.

“Okay. Let’s do it then. Me, you, and our best friends. For as long as we’ve got.” And he kisses me again, once, twice, three times and then one lingering kiss with enough force to shatter a fragile heart. When the heartbreak hits, I know it will be worth it.

Taglist: @tasteofswallowedwords @forsythe-pendleton-jones-iv

#Quill Writes #I'm up 51 minutes late to post this #no proof reading #Reggie Mantle #Reggie x Reader #Reggie imagine #Reggie Mantle imagine #Reader x Reggie #RIP Ross Butler portrayal of Reggie

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