#* self promo ─ take a shot in the dark.

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Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | chapter ii

✒ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, actor!taehyung x ceo!reader

genre/AU: angst, smut, fluff, loverstoexesto ?, coworkers2?, unrequited love

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: oc and jk are both 30, Taehyung is 32, swearing, fighting, confrontation, tornado of emotions, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of sexism in the media and business world, public shaming (both direct and indirect), morally grey characters, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of abandonment issues, mentions of therapy, attempts to self-regulate but reader is pissed, mentions of self-blame though oc knows its not entirely her fault, mentions of defamation charges, JK is just 🤬 while KTH is 😇

playlist: Unkiss Me, Apologize, Hate That I Love You, etc.

a/n: Woah okay....so had I fun writing this, even though it took me a hella long time to decide whether to continue the story as a series or not 🫣 Anyway I altered the summary slightly from chapter one (and updated for consistency purposes), but it doesn't change my overall plans! As you read this chapter, I hope you will be able to see my vision (I'm nervous af! haha)! Enjoy 🥰 (edited but pls forgive me for any oversights...my typos are ridiculous)

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You’re seated in a wide sofa chair, surrounded by four blank walls, and the gentle sound of water tricking from a faux rock waterfall. Every element of the space is carefully integrated as a means to calm you. Yet it doesn't calm you in the slightest. Your hands are clammy. Muscles tense with the adrenaline spiking through your veins. It doesn’t help that you’ve been running on nothing but black coffee all week either, refusing to eat until the first promo shoot with your company’s new endorser was launched.

A natural in front of the camera, Kim Taehyung was able to speed the process up, yet it didn’t stop the massive dark circles from forming under your eyes. This morning, he'd told you they were unnoticeable but you've seen how you look in the mirror, and they're anything but unnoticeable. Still, you find his gesture to soothe sweet. Thankfully, your new partnership has been smooth sailing which is quite a blessing considering the disaster he nearly walked into.

Yes. You’re referring to that disaster in particular. When, in some desperate last-minute attempt for validation, you threw yourself into the arms of your ex-husband.

More like fixed the collar of his shirt and whoops, slid right on his dick…again.

What is wrong with you?

You’ve been asking yourself the question far too many times. You’d think being a hot-shot CEO of a million-dollar tech company would make you like titanium, resilient as finely pounded steel but no; you're just barely keeping yourself together. You regret your rash decision that day, you regret ever marrying Jeon Jungkook, and you regret ever giving in to your stupid feelings.

That’s why you’re here now, waiting in the office of your therapist’s private practice, hands restless in your lap. You’ve been seeing Melody for just over two months since your divorce was finalized, ready to move on; trying to, more like.

‘JeonX CEO Jeon Jungkook’s ex-wife compensated $1.8 billion in divorce’

‘South Korea’s Golden It couple split with ex-wife taking half the company revenue’

These are the lovely words that greet you from your phone screen.

You have the urge to grab your special red ballpoint pen from your bag and scribble out the entire paragraph, except it’s not a printed gossip magazine— it’s a newspaper column on the internet. Instead, you close out the pesky tab on your phone and reply to its sender.

Chim 🐥: can you believe this crap they’re saying about you?! It's no shit you were given a hefty divorce settlement. You brought in half the income! They’re making you look like some kind of gold digger. I swear if I ever lay my eyes on that pretty ex-husband of yours, I will end him! 😡 [sent at 5:06 pm]

Park Jimin, your childhood best friend, sends you a follow-up text when you don’t immediately reply to the news articles he forwarded over. He’s been extremely overprotective of you lately and especially pissed at how the media’s been portraying you, while Jungkook is seemingly getting a free ride. He’s always had an axe to grind with your ex-husband, to be honest, the divorce gives him only more reason to hate him.

You: Thanks for your concern Chim, but nothing they say surprises me anymore. If you don’t mind, can you stop sending these to me? [sent at 5:12 pm]

You hope your message doesn’t read as cold or dismissive. Jimin’s concern for you is a light in a dark place, but you don’t really want to be reminded of the amount of slandering articles still targeted towards you.

Gone are the days when the public saw you as a powerful woman in business, the one to watch, or the CEO of the fastest-growing startup in the last ten years. You're now simply Jeon Jungkook’s conniving ex-wife; as if you’ve merely seduced him for his money and ran when the going was good.

Of course, the whole situation is skewed to his side; half the world is in love with him after all, and that includes the few lingering reporters who've been practically salivating three feet from you at any given chance, hoping to get an exclusive “inside look”. Your marriage was a sham, you wanted to scream, a mutual business transaction.

Too bad rather than an increase in status, resources, and market share, you gained a pile of twisted, unwarranted emotions and regrets.

“I apologize for the wait Ms. __."

The door swings open as your therapist rushes into the room. She stops at her desk to retrieve last week’s session notes, then takes a seat in the chair adjacent to you with crossed legs.

“It’s okay,” you assure, straightening your posture. “I understand how crazy busy the day can get. It wasn't a long wait anyway."

Melody gives a small smile and jots a few words on her notepad. “Thank you for understanding. How are you doing this week?”

You take a deep breath. "Tired," you respond, "especially this week at work. It's like as soon as I wrap up one project, there's another jumping out from nowhere." You used to be ahead of the game. Now you're barely surviving.

"That's right," she hums. "Last week you mentioned having to attend a charity gala soon. Would you like to start there today?"

Crap, you're suddenly reminded that you have to pick up your gown by 7 pm tonight. You entertained the idea of not going to the gala at all, but that would do you no favors in the end. Given your situation, you can't skip out on such an important charity event.

"Sure," you nod. "The Winter Gala's tomorrow night, actually. It's funny how I used to look forward to it every year, being an opportunity to network and catch up with my peers. I can't say I feel the same thrill this time around."

"Because of the divorce you mean?"

"Exactly. Being the CEO of one of the largest software corporations in the world, my ex-husband's influence far exceeds my own. So whether out of loyalty or political agenda, anyone who's anyone will be on his side of the room. I'm gonna end up being that one awkward person in the corner in a far too expensive Dior gown who no one wants to dance with." You nervously chuckle out the last sentence.

Melody opens her mouth to respond, yet stops when she notices you're not quite finished.

"It'll be the first time seeing my ex-husband after months of no contact too. I guess that's what I'm looking forward to the least."

When you think about it, the most you've seen of Jungkook is his face appearing on the massive screens downtown. He's been featured in at least a dozen interviews lately, teasing a brand-new product his company's planning to release in the spring. Seems he's doing well.

"What you feel is valid Ms. __." Melody seeks to assure you. "In the past, you used to go to these events with Jungkook right? He provided you with a sense of safety, as you did for him, no doubt. I wonder if it's a lack of consistency and belonging that worries you, more than it is about seeing your ex-husband and your peers. Companionship too, of course."

"I suppose that makes sense, but it never used to be this way." Your voice raises to match your sudden argumentativeness. "I used to be very comfortable in my own skin. I used to be confident going to these events alone, long before Jungkook came into the picture."

You pause to take a breath before continuing.

"When Jungkook became CEO of his family's software company, JeonX, he was steps away from being bought out by both our competitors, so a partnership was proposed. We married at 27 as nothing more than two ambitious, rising leaders in business. Neither of us was after love or romance when our careers were at stake."

"But then that changed for you," your therapist carefully observes. "Combined, you both held the largest share of the tech market. You and Jungkook were also in an extremely intimate relationship, yet treated it as a business contract. Unfortunately, those don't always come out clean in the wash. It appears to me that while you gave him three honest years of your life, he stole those three years from you."

The words take a moment to sink in; Jungkook stole three years from you. It conflicts with what you want to believe, though from the bottom of your heart, you know she's right.

"I feel so...guilty. I hate that I fell for him, and I hate that I'm struggling this much to let him go." As you tear up, Melody hands you a tissue from the side table with an empathetic gaze. You mouth a thank you and gently dab your eyes with the soft fabric.

"I'd give yourself some grace Ms. __. But if I may ask, what about Jungkook?" she gently probes. "Do you think he feels the same?"

"No...," you say with remorse, shaking your head. "He's moved on."

Melody remains silent for as long as you need in the moments following, cautious to follow your lead. The last thing a therapist should do is rush their patient through the session, so she sits patiently and waits for your go.

"Sorry," you finally say. "We should continue."

"No need for apologies," she replies. "Take your time."

It takes a good minute or two longer of sitting in your car before you can fully compose yourself. As usual, your session with Melody was intense and insightful, but it was far too short. You're gripping the wheel with both hands when her final words of the session echo through your head: "Give yourself some grace; blaming yourself won't do any good."

Seemingly simple advice, yet tough to follow when you constantly feel responsible for the mess you're in. Yes, even though Jungkook has the bigger end of the stick, you made your share of mistakes too. You should have looked into other options when you found out your competitors were looking to buy out JeonX instead of eloping with their CEO.

Just what were you thinking __? you harshly scold yourself. You were trying to protect your company. You both were. Too bad you placed the cart in front of the horse.

Forcing yourself to take a slow, deep breath, your eyes widen in alarm when you catch the time on the clock— 6:38 pm. Fuck! The boutique that's holding your gown for tomorrow's gala is closing in twenty minutes. Without a moment to spare, you yank the seatbelt and slam your foot on the gas.

"Good evening Ms. __." A young woman, fitted in a black pencil skirt and white blouse, greets you with a faint bow as soon as you step foot into the posh boutique.

"Hello, Hana," you refer to the young lady by name with a smile. "I'm terribly sorry to be coming in this late. I came by to pick up the gown I sent in for alterations two weeks ago. The event's tomorrow and I know the shop will be closed for the day."

Knowing the exact dress you're referring to, Hana responds with a soft tone, "Please don't worry Ms. __. We have the gown ready." She disappears to the back of the shop to retrieve it.

As you wait, your mind drifts to memories of last year's gala. You had worn a vibrant, gold gown that evening, slightly risky with a low neckline. Jungkook liked it though, as he wore a matching gold vest himself. You can imagine how crazy the press went when you both set foot on the scene, arms linked and appearing to have coordinated your attire perfectly.

Every investor at the gig wanted to be your friend that night, anxiously pushing through the crowds to speak to you. One of them nearly split your dress in two, as he had accidentally stepped on your gown after one too many drinks. You recall Jungkook scolding the man before turning his full attention to you, making sure you were alright. You consider this to be the first time you truly started looking at him as your husband, a feeling of warmth blooming inside you.

How foolish you were to let that feeling grow.

You're attending the gala alone this year, without him.

Possessing no desire to call attention to yourself this year, you've chosen a rich, navy blue gown instead. It's subtle yet sophisticated. Made out of the finest silk, its silhouette is sleek and falls straight down to the floor without any extravagant frills. The neckline is simple too, paired with a tasteful open back. There are no flashy accessories or embellishments, just a straightforward, classic design. You find the gown beautifully elegant, and nowhere near as bold as your previous one.

"Here it is Ms. __," Hana chips from afar, her heels clacking against the polished floor tiles. In her hand is a generously sized garment bag, your dress flowing underneath.

"Thank you so much, Hana," you say, taking the gown from her hand. "Again, I'm sorry for my tardiness picking this up. I hope you have a wonderful night."

You leave the boutique, the sun having already set.

The Winter Gala takes place on the top floor of Seoul's most luxurious hotel, specifically in its grand ballroom. The walls are adorned with gold trim, and its floors are elegantly lined with polished black marble. Above, a magnificent glass chandelier glimmers, catching the moonlight filtering through the surrounding glass windows.

Despite being a private event, the gala attracts a whole slew of press and locals who eagerly gather on either side of the hotel's front doors, treating it as a prime spot for viewing the red carpet.

Physically, you're ready; dressed to the nines, and makeup done just right. Mentally, you're absent; secretly sipping a margarita at the end of the earth, wherever that is. The day finally comes for you to make an appearance at the Annual Winter Gala and it's clear, you're not prepared in the slightest.

Your nerves consume you as you sit in the backseat of your limousine. You protested against being dropped off at the front entrance. Hell, you hadn't even wanted to arrive in a limo. However, your PR team insisted you be seen arriving, happy to be supporting a charitable event for the eighth year in a row.

Reluctantly, you complied.

Chim 🐥: I wish I could be there with you tonight 😞 No matter what, don't let those snobs get into your head. You look stunning and you have nothing to be ashamed of! [sent at 6:23 pm]

"Thank you, love," you whisper to aloud upon reading your best friend's endearing message. Before you can craft a reply, your door is flung open, with harsh flashes of cameras blinding you. When you step out of the limo, you hear a mix of passionate cheering and interrogative remarks.

"Ms. __, could you share with us your experience of attending the gala without Jeon Jungkook by your side for the first time?"

"Ms. __, it's unexpected to see you here this year, especially considering your recent separation from your ex-husband, who is also on the guest list!"

"Ms. __, how do you plan to navigate the evening's festivities without the familiar presence of your former partner?"

Just keep walking __. If you can just get inside the building and tune out the noise, you'll be fine. You coach yourself with every step, but make little progress with the amount of discomfort only skyrocketing. Your photos are being taken, and questions barrage you from all angles. To top it off, you feel a strong migraine coming on and oh fuck— is that the devil now?

You don't have to glance back to guess the sudden increase in cheering is due to the arrival of another hot A-lister. It has to be Jungkook with a new woman by his side. You think he wouldn't bring a date to an event like this, even if she were a hire? You'd be horribly mistaken.

You fight against the urge to turn around and confirm if your suspicions are true.

"__!" a voice calls out, which you ignore.

But wait a minute.

You stop in your tracks—that's not Jungkook's voice at all; it’s far too raspy.

Peeking over your shoulder, your jaw falls open as you see Kim Taehyung steps behind you wearing a boxy grin on his face. He's dressed to the hills with a shiny maroon, Louis Vuitton suit hugging his slim waist. Quite handsome, per usual, but what is he doing here?

Taking the initiative, Taehyung strides next to you and waves to the crowd charismatically. “My movie shoot wrapped up early so I thought I’d swing by and see what all the excitement’s about,” he says.

You observe how easy it is for him to appease the crowd, a skill you’re still working to sharpen.

“Tae-” you begin.

He then turns to you and looks straight into your eyes. You shiver at from the sudden intensity.

“I got an invitation too, and the gala happens to support a cause that I find close to my heart.” His voice lowers for the next part, allowing only your ears to hear. “I also didn’t want you having to be alone this evening, __. I hope I didn’t overstep my boundaries.”

Taehyung’s words manage to coax you away from your previously frazzled state, comforting you as the chaos quiets around you.

“Thank you, Taehyung. You didn’t, don’t worry,” you reply, giving a tight-lipped smile. “It’s actually a good thing you came since you’re basically the second face of my company after all.”

“I’m happy to hear that. We’ve been working so well together recently, and I don’t want to ruin it. May I?” He offers you an arm.

“You may.” You slip your arm into his and continue towards the hotel entrance. You admit you’re glad to see him.

With Taehyung nearby, your apprehensions of the night start to subside. He’s not always beside you, slipping away to mingle often, yet his mere presence relaxes you. You haven’t even thought about Jungkook to be honest. Well, maybe a little bit.

You take a sip of the drink in your hand and casually scan the ballroom until bingo, you spot your ex-husband by the bar in the middle of half a dozen people. Figures he’s the center of attention, effortlessly tethering people to himself. Jungkook loves the spotlight, and the spotlight loves him. As you continue watching him from across the room, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions swirls within you; longing, sorrow, anger. You haven't seen him in over two months, it feels surreal.

Memories of your time together come flooding back all at once—both the good and the bad, yet mostly bad. It's strange how someone you were once so close to can suddenly feel like a stranger. You allow your gaze to linger a moment longer, curious to conclude a date is nowhere in sight. Perhaps you’re mistaken and they’ve merely slipped away for a second. You’re positive he would’ve brought someone.

Bitterly, you gulp down another sip of your drink. When you place your glass down, you nearly choke at the sight of Jungkook's dark eyes burning holes at you. You avert your gaze immediately, silently begging that he didn’t just witness you staring at him and take it as an unsolicited invitation to come over.

“So,” a provocative voice unexpectedly slides next to you. “Looks like you just traded one bachelor for the next __. I’m shocked to see you’ve shown up to our little soirée.”

Oh god, you roll your eyes, recognizing the owner of the slithery voice like the back of your hand. You do not have the stamina for this tonight.

“Kathy," you greet with the fakest, yet sweetest smile possible. "Nice seeing you again. I haven't seen you since last year. How's the baby?"

"Oh please," she scoffs. "Don't try to deflect, sweetie. We both know it's you who is of far more... intrigue. If you understand my gist."

You want to hurl at this woman's condescending tone. Nothing gets under your skin more than someone your age calling you sweetie. It's not endearing in the slightest, especially when it's Kathy Lee, Director of CommaTen. You despise each other, likely because you both hit it big in the industry at a young age. Meeting someone who reminds you so closely of yourself isn't always a blessing.

“Anyway, as I was saying," she continues, brushing her hair behind an ear. "I have quite the bone to pick with you about stealing that actor from me. Kim Taehyung was mine first, you know."

Hers? She speaks as if a person can be owned. You won't lie, you're surprised Taehyung agreed to partner with you at a time when most of Seoul's elites have turned against you. You're naive to assume that his support wouldn't backfire on his reputation. On the other hand, he's been your endorser for two months now and his following remains fully intact.

“To be frank, I didn't know the two of you were talking business at all," you respond to the accusations with composure, though burning up inside. "But of course, he's free to make his own decisions, can't he? Whatever the reason, something must have enticed him."

“You—" Offended by your insinuation that your offer was better than hers, Kathy doesn't stop what comes next. "We both know the only reason why Kim Taehyung's with you is because Jungkook left you! And you need the extra publicity, isn't that right?"

Fuck. Well, now you're really fucking embarrassed because, at that moment, everyone in the room shifts their attention your way. A pin drop could be heard in the entire ballroom since even the live band ceased their playing.

This is why you didn't want to come. Your fingers fumble with the fabric of your gown.

“Don't act like you're above me just because your company might be worth more than mine, __. We'll catch up with you soon," Kathy spits her final words before spinning around and triumphantly walking away.

Don't cry, you tell yourself. Everyone's staring at you; the press, your peers, Jungkook, and Taehyung. Don't you dare cry.

As the murmurs of conversation gradually resume around you, you force yourself to take a deep, steadying breath. Kathy's words were nothing but a feeble attempt to save her own face. Besides, what company doesn't have at least one endorser?

"Are you alright?" Taehyung's low, gentle voice catches your attention as he swiftly returns to your side, no doubt influenced after witnessing Kathy's verbal jab.

You manage a tight-lipped smile, nodding faintly as you attempt to push back the overwhelming wave of humiliation. "I will be," you reply, though the words feel hollow even to your own ears.

His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer, a silent understanding passing between you.

"I hope you don't take her words to heart, __," he mutters. "I chose to become your partner because I genuinely believe in your product. I'm selective about who I support, so please trust me when I say it wasn't because of material gain or pity."

You're on the verge of responding to his reassurance when you catch sight of your ex-husband from the corner of your eye, striding his way over to you for the first time tonight. His expression is unreadable, so you brace yourself, unsure of what to expect.

"__," he starts, his voice low but carrying an unmistakable urgency. "Can we talk?"

You and Taehyung share a quick glance before you follow Jungkook out of the ballroom, seeking privacy.

As soon as you're out of earshot, Jungkook turns to you, his features softened by a hint of concern. "Hey," he starts. "I meant to get over to you sooner but got tied up. You know how it is."

"Yeah, I know," you respond, though you'd rather he didn't come over at all, especially after being dragged into the spotlight in front of all your peers and colleagues.

The two of you share an unsettling silence before he speaks again.

"You-You look good." He allows his eyes to rake up and down your body, causing you to cross your arms in discomfort. There was a time when his gaze brought a flutter of excitement, but now, you're not so sure it brings you the same pleasure.

"I'm sorry for what happened in there," he says. "You okay?"

"What?" you repeat, your eyes wide with surprise, stunned by his unexpected apology. "Am I okay?"

Where was this concern when he handed you the divorce papers nine months ago? Or when he willingly took advantage of your vulnerability that time in your office, only to disappear afterward, as if he hadn't just torn your heart out of your chest? You clench your fists, trying to contain the rising temperature of your anger.

"Yeah, about what she said about you," he clarifies. "It was uncalled for, and I feel horrible about it." He reaches out to touch you, but you instinctively step back, as if his touch would scorch you.

"Please, don't," you sigh, a trace of weariness in your voice. "It's fine."

"I'm serious __, I can have her charged with defamation for that. It wouldn't take much!" His insistence is unwavering, and it strikes your last nerve.

"You don't need to fight my battles for me, Jungkook," you suddenly snap, voice stern. "I'm not completely helpless now that you've divorced me!"

Jungkook's expression darkens, regret flickering in his eyes. "I'm not saying you are. I'm just trying to help."

"Help?" you repeat, doubtful. "How do you think that's going to look for me in the media? Jeon Jungkook slaps another high society member with a defamation charge for ex-wife. Thanks, but no thanks. I get enough of that as is."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I know they've been difficult on you recentl—"

"Difficult?" you interject, your anger bubbling to the surface. "In case you haven't noticed my face is on every gossip magazine, billboard, press release, and anything else they can use to scorn me with. It's unbearable, especially since I still have a business to run."

Jungkook winces, clearly stung by your words. "Then let me help. I'll get them removed for you. I still care about you, __."

You scoff. "You care about me? Is that why you made me sign our divorce papers three months after you found out I wanted more than a fake marriage?"

His jaw clenches, gaze dropping to the floor guiltily. "It's not like that, __. I'm not trying to be an avoidant asshole. I want you to-"

"Find someone else. Yeah, I got it," you mutter bitterly, feeling a fresh wave of hurt wash over you.

"I'm sorry, __. I am."

You stare at him, torn between resentment and a lingering ache for the connection you once shared. Now, he's apologizing?

"So am I," you say, slowly backing away from him. "You don't have to do anything, Jungkook. I'm fine."

You then turn on your heels to return to the ballroom where Taehyung still waits for you, leaving your ex-husband standing in the hallway, alone.

a/n: A much-needed confrontation between oc and jk eh? But... *laughs evilly*..this is not the end...LMK what you think! 🤔🤍

Masterlist | Requests: closed | Taglist | Fic Recs

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side note: I tried tagging readers in comments but most of them didn't go through, so i'm sorry about the clutter here...😬

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[katyahina]

Just some references I've been compiling, but I decided to put them here!

1) Marika seems to have two distinct stages: one with less detailed dress (unless sculpture creators were just lazy fdshhfds) but with three braids (right long one, left cut one and back big one) (screenshot proving the third big braid on the back as depicted on her statues in the Churches by @blaiddfailcam in this ( x ) really cool theory post!). And second with her more trademark singular braid pushed to the side! The bracelets on her shoulders are permanent, but her wrist bracelets seem to just come and go. Well, like her belt. @val-of-the-north put it the best: "people do not have only one look, so why demigods should be different" 💀

UPDATE 6/6/24: I finally have a good shot of her third braid!

2) She doesn't seem to have more than B cups though, and her face shows a mole above her right eyebrow. I hoped Radagon had the same feature, but with the best model of his face I still can't say whether it is so because of how his hair is placed:

3) Miquella is strange, as his statue versions and his drawing/DLC promo versions still vary, despite him supposedly being stuck in the same state forever

But seems like his "earlier" stage depicted in the statues has this 'apron' feature, likely inspired by those ancient Greece robes! The DLC version so far has more plain 'skirt' part without apron part, and with the belt over his sleeves! And MUCH longer hair, of course!

UPDATE: I've been able to take a closer look at Miquella's statue FINALLY, and turns out the version of his statue that holds a bud (especially notable in Ordina) has some herbs sticking out from the "apron"! What I assumed was apron might actually be a pouch for herbs and alike, attached to his belt! Or it is an apron with inner pockets. x)

4) I wonder whether, maybe, Malenia and Godwyn used to have white robes before (in the states that are depicted in the statues), and dark blue with golden embroidery simply means adulthood? Also Godwyn's Prince of Death state appears to have the blue clothing let down to only cover the lower body, same as Radagon and Marika's when we find them (saw these good statue models here ( x ) on xitter)

^ also mind how this body for SURE looks more adult than the body on the statue that holds Malenia and Miquella!

UPDATE 6/6/24 (another one): I was able to find the image with an angle that shows Malenia's face in that statue with Godwyn! Her smaller self does have less elaborate crown, of course!

( x )

In this age, her crown is reasonably same as Miquella's, and circles around her head in full, whereas with her older depiction you can see the crown circling under hair!

[lavndvrr]

Fic rec Friday!!! 1

Welcome to fic rec Friday where I give you about 5 (give or take a bit) fic recs for a certain thing (fandom, ship, character, trope, AU, etc.) once week :)

If you have any ideas/requests for a certain kind of fic, send me an ask and I'll try my best <3333

Sooooo were starting off with valgrace because who doesn't LOVE valgrace?????

secrets closet

Because he liked messing with Jason, Leo then said, “Why? Are you jealous? Of Calypso?” Jason stared at him. The hesitance left Leo dumbfounded, and the lightbulb over Jason’s head flickered. “Dude,” Leo said, embarrassed. He needed to get out of this closet now.

Short read but its super cute!

Better in the Dark

Leo is mad at Jason and then they kiss

Uhmm its really really really good!!!! I love everything about this fic so do yourself a favor and read it

you know me, I won't budge

Jason finds out about Leo’s plan to stop Gaea. He doesn’t like it one bit. How dare he.

I'm a sucker for dark! Jason Grace and this checks all the boxes, its such a good au and I plan on writing some for it once I get the motivation. I probably say this a lot but this is hands down one of my favorite one-shots

Flame on!

“I’m not sure this is a good idea.” Jason frowned at him. “Jumping off the roof? I think it’s a tremendous idea,” Piper snarked, notably less worried about Leo’s safety than Jason. “What could go wrong?”

I am also a sucker for pining and un-requited love lol (don't worry, the un-requited love part is just implied)

Homesick

Jason and Leo talk about what they never had.

Its not a Fic rec Friday without a shameless self-promo, why? because I said so. This is a little thing I wrote when I actually thought I was going to participate in Whumpril and not give up 1 day in lol

[thesamoanqueen]

Darkside

Raiting: 14

Warnings: Angst; A lot...

A/N: Dark days will come its all your fault Dwayne... So therapeutic writing for me.

The PPV routine was inhumane, something that even those in the business tried to sustain, knowing that in the end, all the hard work would be reduced to a couple of chaotic hours. You prepared yourself, tried to be in the right emotional state and threw yourself headlong into the work, on your shoulders the responsibility to get to the point storylines, promos, shots and shots so that people out there could go home satisfied. And you could emerged from that atmosphere in two ways: excited by adrenaline or drained by fatigue, but often, neither excluded the other.

For Y/N on that particular occasion it was the latter. She felt like she'd been holding her breath for an eternity, her mind full of noise, her blood pumping more than it should in her aching muscles. She had gotten to the point of hating her heels and it wasn't something she usually did, hoping the end would come quickly so she could rest and restore the fragile balance that was interrupted. She missed Roman and every day, that farce of friends with benefits was getting harder and harder to sustain. They texted each other all the time, they talked on the phone in their spare time, but it wasn't the same and this time seemed worse than the previous ones.

Maybe it was the realization of feeling something more that made it heavy for her. She literally froze one morning in front of the sliding doors of a restaurant, her heart suddenly crazy just reading his name on the phone screen and a voice in her head announcing: 'It's him. It's always been him.' And actually wasn't wrong, because with Roman it had never been about sex or attraction, it had been so natural, so familiar, that she didn't even have time to notice it. Samantha had moved her out of the way of the doors by miracle that day, she hadn't even noticed the ones closing too.

But she had noticed Roman's voice, the way he answered her questions, the few details in the stories and the too many meetings he was having. Maybe it wasn't that, maybe it wasn't her feelings and she was just being paranoid, which she found herself incredibly talented at when he was involved, but something was really wrong.

She had investigated with Jimmy and Jey, in the short time she had spend with them too, but they just claimed they were too busy with the current storyline. And she had really believed it, because they were going so well that they surpassed even the most extreme forecasts, but then Y/N had seen Roman. She had seen him at the arena, Heyman whispering as if they were in the middle of a conspiracy and him silently listening, absorbing word after word. She had seen him again hours later, she had recognized the stiffness in his muscles, despite the fact that he seemed to let everything slip off him, she had seen his polite smile and that shadow in his eyes which, tenacious and responsible, continued to wander from one face to another, keeping him on track. She had seen him shake his hand before the fireworks started and from afar, Y/N understood.

***

It was late, the arena had emptied, the press conference had ended and by now there were only a few left in there, almost only technicians. But there he was, inside the ring, staring at the empty stands where people had yelled at him a few hours earlier. A big reaction, a tremendous success, but he didn't look fully satisfied and Y/N knew him enough to read between lines.

With hands in the pockets of her sweatshirt, she walked over in silence, looking at him there: alone at the top of his mountain.

When you work in an environment like that, you can't get caught up in the crowd's reactions. It's a self-defense mechanism, you become somehow less prone to empathy and more focused on yourself, but there are things that hurt anyway. Roman was a grown man, one of those who really takes all kinds of responsibility on his shoulders and strives to go forward day after day, trying to overcome difficulties with the right mind. Y/N knew with absolute certainty that he had accepted everything for the good of the company, for the sport that had accompanied him since he was a kid, even before he set a foot inside the ring. She knew that Roman had no regrets, that he had pushed as far as he could and even further, she knew that every more day was a gift for him, but that ring, those people, were truly his mountain. One that he had never fully climbed and that he still felt he owed something to. He had been in his place and they had hated him so much, while now they gave him only praise…

It wasn't envy or competition, it wasn't refusal to give up his place or anger. She was pretty sure he even liked him, his heart was tender under all those muscles. Was the sneaky suspicion that he hadn't lived up to it when he should have, the simple refusal, after years of struggling to achieve something they had even promised him. He had trudged up his mountain and what in her eyes seemed determination, constancy, seemed something else to him at that moment. It was the darkside of their mind, the dark behind the spotlight, the silence of the future coming and leaving others behind.

- Hey… - she called softly, stopping under the ropes to look at him from below.

- Y'still here? – he asked hoarsely, a couple of scratches caused by the match on his neck.

- I was lookin for a big lost boy – she tried to joke, but Roman barely smiled, his gaze wandering everywhere without stopping on her.

If only he had looked at her, if only he had paid Y/N the attention that his mind was urging him to have for those empty chairs, for the stands above, for that now dark logo dangling in the void, he would have noticed perhaps that no one else in the world for her would ever be like him.

- Ro, if you want to-

- Im tired for those things Y/N. Not tonight – he stopped her, with his usual slowness overcoming the ropes to get out of the ring.

Not that it had ever happened to her thanks God, but if someone had opened her chest there, to rip the air out of her lungs and crumple her heart, it probably would have hurt less than that. The floor felt softer than it should, ready to suck her in, her knees less still despite no longer wearing heels, the arena incredibly empty and cold. And yet she pursed her lips, swallowing the idea that that was all he could think of right now, enduring the harsh reality between them.

- Im just saying that if y'want... Im here. I’ll listen.

- What? - he asked almost confused, but she couldn't find the right words fast enough and Roman realized with a nod of his head.

- Im a grown ass man Y/N. Its just how da business works – he said, a hand running through her hair as if she were the one who needed to be comforted at that moment.

And he wasn't really wrong. Things were always like this, he had been an extraordinary exception after decades and now the balance had to be restored, people needed it, another chapter had to be written. But she suddenly felt crushed, angry, hurt by those changes, by that reality, while Roman was already metabolizing.

- Yes, but ya know. You've put up with me so many times, always supporting me and making me see things differently, that I would like to do the same for you – she admitted – being with you.

Words came out of her mouth out of control, without her planning them, but they were the plain truth.

Y/N was genuinely terrified, she didn't even know exactly by what, perhaps the change itself. The idea that their balance could change due to an external cause, by having seen the shadow of a wound reopen in him and not being able to shield him. She was used to facing a routine made up of changes in plans, improvisations, rushes and unexpected twists, her first-person tolerance index was out of the ordinary and tempered over the years, but when the people she cared about came into play, when Roman came into play, she always felt like a lost child. That was one of the reasons she probably fell so bad for him, because no matter what came at him, Roman was able to stay on his feet. He was her safe place and for the first time in her life, Y/N wanted to be like him, she wanted to be that for him. She wanted him to know even if he could do it on his own.

She saw his gaze soften, shoulders sag, even if just a little. Her body began to feel the warmth of his embrace before he could even pull her to him, because she knew he would, he always did. But not that time.

- I appreciate it – she heard him thank her and his watch rumbled softly, an incoming call - sorry... it's... I have to go.

A call from Florida.

- Sure, go, go – she encouraged him as if in a trance as he walked towards the ramp giving her one last look and a half smile.

With her hands clasped in her pockets, she watched him walk away, until he disappeared who knows where, his phone already in hand and something else to take care of. She watched the gap in the screens in silence, alone, in the middle of the empty arena until she realized she was about to collapse. Her shoulders trembling, her eyes already wet, she was short of breath.

She wanted to be there for him, she wanted to be with him, but he was already moving on. He was metabolizing, enduring as always, he was already writing another chapter of his life and the fear she had felt at realizing what was happening was clearer now. She was falling behind as he moved forward and she wasn't ready. It hurts, it hurts damn bad.

Tag squad: @sunnyfleur23 @racerchix21 @alyanarossi @wickedsunfire @romanreignsdefencesquad @romanstheory @thiccc-rider-mcintyre @keybladeofsteel @iovereigns @msbigredmachine @nayys-world @gobbersworld @utika151209 @cumxxslutt @civildawn @romanmydaddy @triscillal @papireigns-05 @helensanders92 @ichdrachenfrau @darqchilddaydreamz @meggylynnloves @vintage-pvssy @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @nicolewoo @niknakbucks92 @wrestlezaynia @reignsx @reigns-central-blog @kianaleani @daguenoire @extra-11 @thedonsfactory @snowpanda18 @nestorsgirlfriend @brattyfics @wanna-be-dominated @kitanasposts @namjoonspinkytoenail @tribalchiefreigns @2baddies2furious @vebner37 @raeluvshammett @depressedneedingrevenge

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤

Thank you so much for the tag, my friend--you know I appreciate every chance I can get to promo my work!

So, five favorites? Honestly, it's hard to choose, as most of my work remains WIPs that are currently languishing for updates. I'm going to exclude my one-shots to narrow down the field - and base this list on both the story and the quality of the writing. Hoping that they might get a little bit of love and some new readers!

Of Magic, Miracles, and Moonlight - Stephen Strange x OFC. Slow burn romance, older man/younger woman, mentor/student, friends-to-lovers. Pre-Infinity War. Contains Mature Content. WIP, currently 19 chapters.

A Khan By Any Other Name - Khan Noonien Singh x OFC. Adventure, danger, angst, romance. Pre-Star Trek Into Darkness. Contains Mature Content. WIP, currently 12 chapters.

The Secret of Salvation - Major Jamie Stewart x OFC. War Horse AU. WW I. Angst, prisoner of war, romance. Contains Mature Content. WIP, currently 5 chapters.

The One That Got Away - Benedict Cumberbatch AU, where he is primarily a stage Actor with some movie/television appearances. Benedict Cumberbatch x OFC. Takes place during a production of The Taming of the Shrew. Castmates to friends to falling in love, slow burn, jealousy, lots of angst. WIP, currently 18 chapters.

Scarlett and the Professor - Tumblr exclusive. An original, erotic, paranormal romance, based on a discontinued roleplay. All original characters. Takes place on an unnamed Caribbean island. Older man/younger woman, professor/student, supernatural elements bringing them together, romance, angst, forbidden desires, light kinks with foreshadowing of darker kinks. Contains Mature Content. WIP, currently 32 chapters, plus two one-shots.

moodboards under cut

(related works: Lady in Red, Though There Be Pain Love Still Endures)

Of Magic, Miracles, and Moonlight

Doctor Stephen Strange's life has settled into a fulfilling pattern; even as Master of the New York Sanctum, he continues his studies in the mystic arts, self-training with the library that the Ancient One amassed in her years as Sorcerer Supreme. An old alliance forged by the Ancient One brings an unexpected request to him, and he is duty bound to fulfill it. Along the way he meets with some pleasant surprises--and discovers that his heart is not immune to the effects of the gentlest sorts of magic.

moodboard by @strangelock221b

Seraphina DiPietro is wise in the ways of the world; she has to be, as she travels the California coast as a torch singer in pubs, bars and nightclubs. She knows how to take care of herself and stay out of trouble--most of the time. When trouble comes, it's usually because her kind heart overrides her common sense. Stopping to check on a handsome stranger, stranded roadside in the Mojave Desert, her curiosity is piqued as much by the classic, mint-looking Mustang, as by the driver--a tall, dark mysterious drink of water, whom she quickly learns is so much more than what he appears.

moodboard by @mel-loves-all

Major Jamie Stewart is a survivor--but sometimes he just needs to escape. The guilt, the pain, the despair; his bitter fall due to folly and hubris. It helps to survive if one has a sanctuary to turn to, a dream to hold onto. A vision of a day--and a woman--that might grant him the salvation he desperately craves.

bookcover for The One That Got Away created by @onebuttscratcher

An actress making her name for herself on the London stage, Virgilia (Vicki) Gordon vows not to follow her usual pattern: falling in love with her leading man. The work comes first and foremost--or so she plans. She never expects to develop feelings for her co-star in "The Taming of the Shrew", but with his stellar talent matched by his charm, kindness and intellect, Vicki learns all too soon that, despite one's best intentions, the heart goes where it will. Still, all might be well--but he is far from free enough to return her affections.

moodboard by @strangelock221b

Romance & Passion. Mystery & ties to the Supernatural. Lust & Erotica. NSFW material, so be forewarned. A young Scottish woman of ancient Selkie blood finds herself irresistibly drawn to her dashing British professor, with his own mysterious ties to the Sea. A serial womanizer who believes his inner darkness makes him unredeemable, he finds what seems an uncorruptable innocence in the love she freely offers--eventually coming to wonder if her light might be enough to save him from his demons.

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: "Melting for You"

It's been a bit since I've done a Self Promo Sunday post, but with the weather heating and well into summer this one shot came to mind, and it seemed like the right one for this week to get them going again. I wish we had a few more steamy CS pics to work with to make a cover art, but I still gave it a go. If this is new to you, I hope you'll enjoy, and if it's a repeat maybe you'll find it fun to revisit.

Summary: When Emma decides to tease an overheated pirate, soon she's the one burning up... A Post Season 6 canon divergent ff, with CS enjoying their happy beginning

Can also be found on AO3 if that's your preference...

by: @snowbellewells

Even indoors the air was heavy and oppressive - especially for June - and Emma Swan gave herself a mental pat on the back for even being out of her recliner nearest the air conditioning vent in the old, high-ceiling house that could be expensive to sufficiently cool. She tended to covet a day like this - off from the station, Henry out with friends, no one needing anything from her, and a backlog of her favorite crime procedurals ready in her streaming queue - chuckling to herself about deserving some sort of Savior Above and Beyond medal for being in the kitchen tackling a sink of dirty dishes.

Normally, she’d just put them in the dishwasher, but the last clean load had never been taken back out and put away - one of Henry’s designated jobs - and her husband, loving and fond of her son as he was, was still a captain through and through, determined for each member of his crew to pull their weight. Emma, on the other hand, while not as worried about the degree of neatness Killian would prefer, was just stubborn enough not to do her kid’s chores for him. Henry had been busy lately; finals, college applications and other genuine responsibilities taking up the bulk of his time, but she trusted him to get to it when he could. Though she wouldn’t admit it out loud, the real reason she didn’t put the clean dishes away was because she didn’t understand Killian’s precise method for storing all the various pots, pans, containers, and baking sheets; inevitably, when she tried to unload the dishwasher alone, she ended up with numerous things she couldn’t find a place for strewn across the kitchen’s center island and more of a mess than she’d started with.

It just wasn’t worth the hassle.

So, here she stood, sweating over a sink full of hot, soapy water, feeling loose tendrils of hair begin to curl around her face in the humidity, just trying to make sure they had enough clean spoons and to-go mugs for their coffee the next morning and cursing the 90 degree heat and the ceiling fan not doing an adequate job of getting the cooler air to her as her shirt began to feel stuck to her skin between her shoulder blades.

At least she had a good view. 

Emma smirked to herself, eyes lighting up once again as she refocused from the charred bits of pizza crust she’d slightly burnt onto a pan and back out the window over the sink. She wasn’t sure how her husband could stand it outside, and he’d been at it for at least a couple hours at this point, but as she took in the scene before her, Emma couldn’t help thinking that at this moment, his discomfort was a cross she was willing to bear.

Standing up straighter, running her forearm across her face, she dazedly allowed her hands to drip across the counter as she studied him more closely, almost forgetting where she was. Killian was wearing dark, stained denim jeans he often used when out of doors and not on his ship, along with a thin, gray T-shirt, stretched and faded with holes in places, but more than serviceable for working around the house and yard. She could see the muscles in his back and shoulders straining and bunching through the nearly threadbare material easily, and hardly realized she’d unconsciously licked her lips at the decadent sight.

As she continued to shamelessly spy on her fine pirate, Killian stretched his arms up overhead, clearly working out some of the kinks from his exertions, then to her eternal delight, raised the hem of his T-shirt to mop sweat from his brow. She could see a band of tanned, flushed skin on his lower back, unknowingly tantalizing her as she stared, unable to blink or look away. Then, as if that hadn’t been enough, he slowly peeled the taut fabric up his torso and off over his head before tossing it to the side.

She knew her breath went a bit shallow at the sight of his whole back bared to her while Killian stood for several long moments catching his breath. At this point, her sudsy hands were clutching the edge of the sink while her knees went watery at the show he was putting on inadvertently. The expanse of his skin was marred in places by lines almost white from the time gone by since they had been inflicted, and high on his left shoulder a compass sat, bearing the name ‘Liam’ along its edge, while the dark tentacles of a kraken curled surreptitiously along his rib cage on his right side. The dark and light took not one iota from his swarthy perfection though, not to her eyes. In fact, if she had been overwarm before, she was burning up now; the sight of his whole torso practically glistening in the bright afternoon sun making her weak. She was seized with the almost uncontrollable desire to go out there and started licking the salty moisture from his skin with her tongue.

If she didn’t know better, she would think he was purposely trying to tempt her. 

Wait… did she know better? Emma paused, tilted her head to one side in thought. She’d told him when he’d gone outside that she was kicking back to watch some tv. But Killian could be scarily prescient of everyone around him, alert without even trying. Did he know she was watching; and, if so, was he teasing her?

Eyes narrowing, she thought for a second, feeling more than a bit devious as she considered her rapscallion husband and just what mischief he might have on his mind. She could almost picture him scoffing about getting her riled up; his brow arched just so, tongue poking against the inside of his lower lip, practically leering at her, knowing she couldn’t resist him at the best of times, and absolutely using it to his advantage. What she needed, Emma decided, a twinkle coming into her eye as the perfect plan of attack took shape in her mind, was to get him back, while appearing completely innocent. Get him flustered and as hot and bothered as he was making her. Turning off the tap and quickly drying her hands on a towel nearby, she grabbed a large glass from the cabinet to her left, then opened the freezer for ice - and her chosen secret weapon.

Strolling outside, Emma tried her best to school her expression, knowing a twitch of mischievous humor or devilish twinkle would give her away. Her pirate still read her like a book - knew her every feature more minutely than anyone else had ever bothered to try - even more so after years together. He’d catch any slip and be on the alert.

Killian turned to look at her, just as she drew up beside him. Reaching out to trail the hand holding an ice cold glass of water down his damp, overheated bicep, she fought to hold in the smirk as her husband let his head fall backwards, nearly growling in pleasure. The unrelenting heat had the glass already covered in condensation, and the warmth radiating from Killian as well after working so long in the sun, meant the cool moisture had to feel heavenly.

Eyeing her with both adoration and curiosity, her captain made Emma’s own inner thermostat raise a tick as well when he licked the perspiration from his upper lip. “May I assume that’s for me, Love?”

“Yep,” she replied, letting the ‘p’ pop distinctly, just as he often did when alluring her with his speech. “I thought it was time to bring you some water. Can’t have my True Love getting dehydrated, after all.”

He raised a brow, as if wondering why she seemed so enthusiastic, but he took the glass from her eagerly, seemingly deciding just to accept the gesture with thanks. Of course, as his Adam's apple bobbed with his greedy swallows of the cool, refreshing liquid, it was Emma who found her throat working desperately to gain more air.

For a second, she almost forgot her plan in the wake of the tantalizing distraction he made, before she regained focus and hurried to unwrap what she held in her other hand.

While Killian’s eyes were still closed savoring the last of his drink, Emma quickly stuffed the wrapper of an ice cream bar in her cutoff jean pockets and began to lick the chocolate coating, enjoying the sweet taste, but also waiting for the moment she would feel the sizzle of his eyes on her once more.

“Here you go, Love,” Killian’s voice spoke up as she felt him turn toward her, just as she enveloped the whole tip of the ice cream bar between her lips. “That truly hit the sp - “

His words died on his tongue as he got an eyeful of what she was doing, though Emma avoided looking back just yet, knowing the glee she was feeling would give her away. ‘Gotcha, Pirate!’ she couldn’t help gloating in her mind.

Humming slightly as if she was only focused on how delicious her frozen treat tasted, Emma was inwardly high fiving herself after shooting a quick sidelong glance at her husband to see him looking as though he had swallowed his own tongue. The empty glass he’d moved to hand back to her fell to the ground from his suddenly lax fingers, and when she heard him speak again, his words were a hoarse whisper. “Gods above, Swan, are you trying to kill me?”

“Of course not,” she chirped happily, winking at him with what she hoped was breezy nonchalance. “Just enjoying some refreshment myself.” She then popped the treat back into her mouth, pointedly hollowing her cheeks a bit, then pulling it back out while letting her tongue trail along the rapidly melting chocolate coating.

‘And now the final touch,’ she thought, turning her head back toward the porch and deliberately putting more swing in her hips than normal. “Bring that glass with you when you come back in, okay Babe?” she tossed over her shoulder, with one brief backward glance that she hoped managed to be sultry.

Congratulating herself, even as just the short amount of time she’d been outside was beginning to make her sweat too and the vanilla insides of her ice cream began to drip down her hand, Emma had nearly reached the outdoor water spigot and attached hose by the porch steps, which seemed a good place to finish her dessert and wash off the stickiness, when she heard heavy steps coming up behind her rapidly. ‘Right on cue, ’ her mind practically crowed.

In the next moment, Killian’s strong, muscled arm snaked around her stomach and jerked her back firmly against the front of his body. Holding her tightly, his teeth nipped her earlobe before he purred a seductive warning against her neck. “It’s cruel to tease a man like that, Minx - not if you don’t intend to share a taste.”

Impishly, Emma held up the rapidly shrinking bit of ice cream left on the stick, as if in offering. However, when he dove in to swipe his tongue up the side of her hand and engulf both the melting treat and the tips of her fingers in the warm, wet cavern of his mouth, she willingly let go. His eyes were pure blue flames that wouldn’t allow her to blink, turning her bones and sinew to liquid more than the heat outside could have ever managed.

Emma was leaning into him breathlessly, mind going blank at the way he pulled his lips back off her fingers, laving her skin playfully as he leaned away, the self-satisfied gleam in his eyes along with the heat telling her all too well that he knew what he was doing. Winking devilishly, he stepped away slightly, making her nearly stumble as her body strained to follow, a soft whine leaving her throat completely against her will. 

“Hmm…” he purred, baiting her now, sensing victory no doubt. “Just as I thought - delicious.”

Emma’s misfiring synapses crackled back to life as he stood there, just out of reach, clearly waiting for his wife’s next move, and almost certainly counting on her being unable to resist.

Her chest heaved, trying to get a full breath and bring herself under control. She’d had the upper hand! She was so sure she’d have him begging - just this once. But she was flushed and sweating every bit as much as Killian now. That sinful way he was tracing her bare legs with his gaze, and the feel of his mouth on her, however briefly, had been all it had taken to send her temperature soaring beyond all reason.

“You don’t play fair, Captain,” she chided, her voice low and her own teasing smile finally returning to her as it just tilted the corner of her lips.

Killian’s dark brow arched devastatingly in challenge, not about to be outdone. “Oh, and I suppose you think waltzing out here in those shorts that barely cover your knickers and shamelessly teasing me was fair play?”

There was no good comeback, and Emma knew it. She’d been messing with him from the start, and neither of them had any doubts on that score. However, it was just then she remembered the hose and spigot right behind her. Using an innocent shrug of her shoulders and a toss of her blond hair she knew could often distract him - pirate indeed, her golden hair had always drawn his touch, he’d been brushing it over her shoulder since they had first climbed the beanstalk together - she managed to move back enough to reach behind her and turn on the water without him catching onto her actions. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating,” she sniffed, feigning insult. “I only brought you a cold drink. You looked like you needed…” she fumbled to grasp the hose quickly and pull it up into her hands “...to cool off!”

Without further warning, she pointed the nozzle at him, squeezed the handle and let fly, startling him with a blast of water right to the chest. Luckily, she’d managed to crank up the power enough to have a steady stream leaving the hose at full blast, and they kept it coiled in the shade of the porch, so she knew the spray rapidly soaking her husband was as ice cold as the sun beating down on them from above was burning hot.

Spluttering and yelping at the sudden, frigid onslaught, Killian’s pleased smirk dissolved as he threw up both arms in a helpless attempt to block the spray. She couldn’t help throwing her head back with a triumphant laugh and an emphatic “Gotcha!” escaping her lips. No part of her husband was getting out of this unscathed, she decided, aiming to soak him from head to toe while she had the upper hand. 

Unfortunately for her, the victory was short-lived. Adaptable and quick-thinking as ever, Killian had steeled himself against the cold blast and was inching closer amidst laughter of his own and short exclamations at the bursts of chilled water hitting him.

Emma was about to relent in truth, the sight of Killian’s streams of eater running down his arms and sides and droplets clinging to his trim, well-defined chest and the enticing covering of matted dark hair across his taut chest muscles, was more than enough prize for her efforts. The handle actually faltered in her grip for a moment as her mouth fell open with her gawking.

 It was all the opening her pirate needed. 

Killian bounded forward, closing the slight distance left between them and deftly plucking the hose from her grip. The squelch of his feet on the wet grass and the slap of soaked denim against his legs were Emma’s only other warnings before the sharp, freezing spray was turned on her full blast in retaliation.

“Ahhh! Killian!” she screeched helplessly, the shock of the cold making her gasp, despite knowing she wasn’t going to get any more mercy than she herself had been willing to grant moments ago. Instead, she floundered forward, grabbing for the hand aiming the spray at her. They scuffled briefly, both only getting wetter and more winded, until - ridiculously tangled up with each other and the hose - they tumbled to the sodden grass in a heap of wriggling limbs.

At this point, both of them were laughing, hands rapidly smoothing over wet skin in delicious slides. The hose fell from Killian’s grip, easily forgotten, and the water splashed them both in a wild arc until it fell to the ground and stopped. The damage was long done anyway as they rolled together on the marshy ground, legs entwined and bodies beginning to move against each other deliciously, almost without thought in a deliciously familiar next move.

Unable to resist any longer, and far past teasing or trying to win their game, Emma’s hands stole to trace up his panting side, thrilling at the feel of his stomach muscles trembling where her fingertips swept over them. 

Killian was not idle as she worked feverishly, a low groan of pleasure escaping him as she stroked along the planes of his torso.  In the next moment, he dove in, pulling down the vee of her own shirt further and baring her breast before closing his mouth over the tight, alert bud warming and tormenting in equal measure with swipes of his wicked tongue.

She bucked up into him, keening and whimpering and wordlessly desperate to urge him on. After that, there was no time for words, merely pants of exertion, the occasional clacking of teeth, the slapping of damp skin on skin, and the smack of the rest of their soaking clothing frantically shed on the swampy ground around them. Soon they were moving in unison, Killian pushing forward, and her opening to pull him in, then clinging to him tightly for all she was worth.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Later, as the evening shadows fell, a light breeze moved in, cooling the heavy air of the day. Emma’s eyes trailed languidly over the nude lines of her husband’s hip and side as he returned to her with water and slid back under the light blanket they had draped over their bodies as they snuggled skin to skin on the back porch. It hadn’t seemed worth bothering to get dressed again when they’d only adjourned as far as the porch before their kisses and touches and mischievous smiles led to them going again at an achingly slower, more luxurious pace on the porch glider while the sun had slowly dipped closer to the horizon. As Killian curled back around her and brought her hand up to kiss each one of her knuckles reverently, humming as he somehow found a sweet bit of leftover ice cream, Emma could only think it was lucky their porch faced nothing but the rocky coastline and the harbor beyond it. Not that she was ashamed of how quickly she had melted at his whim, but she didn’t need anyone else to get an eyeful.

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @searchingwardrobes @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jrob64

@apiratewhopines @iamstartraveller776 @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @teamhook

@revanmeetra87 @anmylica @xarandomdreamx @bluewildcatfanatic @xsajx @motherkatereloyshipper

@stahlop @mie779 @jonesfandomfanatic @linda8084 @lfh1226-linda @winterbaby89

@darkcolinodonorgasm @hollyethecurious @artistic-writer @zaharadessert @booksteaandtoomuchtv @caught-in-the-filter

[magnoliacharmed]

Golden Boy

18+, Shawn Michaels x Billy Gunn one shot 

[Also available on Archive of Our Own!]

Word count: 5054

Tags: Angst with a happy ending, self esteem issues, implied drug use, blow jobs, masturbation, condomless sex, praise kink (guess who has it. just guess.)

Summary:

Shawn Michaels' conflicting feelings for Billy Gunn are making his life a lot more difficult.

---

Looking briefly into Billy's gray-blue eyes earlier, Shawn had felt like the light was breaking through the angry storm clouds. He finally felt the warmth he'd been missing.

Author’s note:

also starring d-generation x!

shawn confirmed a bottom from his "my middle name is 'top this'!" promo. i don't make the rules

suspend your disbelief and pretend that shawn didn't take that break for a few years in the late 90s/early 00s! haha i didn't know how to reconcile that.

There was something about Billy Gunn that everyone loved. He was just a nice fucking guy. His smile was sincere, his laugh never mocking, his energy fun. The worst part about it all was that he never had to try to be that man. He just was. Nobody had a bad word to say about Gunn.

It drove Shawn insane.

So what, he was "nice"? Anybody could pretend to be nice. Shawn had managed just fine at it for years now. He was likable enough. Ever since Billy joined D-Generation X though, Shawn's facade began to crack. Fake, fake, fake. Shawn couldn't even look in a mirror at himself without picking at all his flaws. He wasn't old by any stretch of the imagination. But his hard lifestyle was going to catch up with him soon enough if he didn't slow down. When he got sick of his own face screwing up at itself, he'd lay in the dark and replay the day's events. He'd be flying high when Hunter and X-Pac nodded away at everything he said, chuckling at his jokes. The sounds would echo through the hall for everyone to hear. Eat that, Billy. You may be in the crew, but you'll never be a part of it.

Then Billy would make an offhand comment and the whole locker room would double over in pain from laughing so hard. Chyna's smile stretched from ear to ear whenever Gunn was around her. Road Dogg stuck by his side like a pathetic leech. They acted like the sun shined out of his ass.

Shawn's eyes burned in his sockets. The pain didn't even bother him any more. The muscles in jaw were shot to hell from mashing on his gum. The mint flavoring was giving him a stomach ache, flips and turns bounding around in his lower body. The acid felt like it was burning him from inside out. It was the gum. A shitty brand he didn't usually choose. That's all they had at the local gas station so he was stuck. Yes, it was definitely that and not the image of Billy standing near him in the mirror pulling his white-blond hair into a ponytail. He was chewing gum too, the muscles in his neck moving below his skin hypnotically. Shawn was 99% sure his eye twitched at the sight of it.

"Shawn… Shawn. You okay?"

Very suddenly, Gunn was face to face with Shawn. He cocked his head to the side like a puppy, the curls of his ponytail following the movement. There was concern painted on his face plainly. Shawn hated how the taller man could wear his heart on his sleeve like that. It'd been a long, long time since he could be so open. A wicked thought passed through his head, that one day Billy too would go through the same pain as him. One day he wouldn't be so happy-go-lucky. It happens to everyone. At least, that's what Shawn had to tell himself over the years.

"What? I'm fine, man."

"Okay, I just wanted to make sure. You were staring into the distance."

"Thanks." Shawn's voice was clipped. Get the fuck out of my face.

Billy couldn't seem to catch the hint. He instead leaned down to reach into his duffel bag, the smooth, tanned skin of his back shining under the harsh backstage lighting. Shawn had to shut his eyes at the sight of it.

Billy rose up with a pack of gum resting in his hand. It was Shawn's favorite brand. The bright red of the packaging signified that it was his favorite flavor too, cinnamon. The smell of it wafting off the pack and from Billy was beginning to be too much.

"Do you wanna trade? I hate cinnamon, but it's all the liquor store had left. I wanted spearmint."

Shawn dug into the pocket of his slacks for the gum. He was happy to get it off his hands. Maybe his jaw would stop hurting so bad once he got the new--

Something that felt like hot lava and the brightest strike of lightning zipped through Shawn's heart. It struck his brain and flowed down to his cock in a millisecond. The little voices in his head-- the mean one, the self-loathing one, the needy one-- all ceased.

Shawn's pupils dropped to focus on his fingers. They were… touching Billy's. While they were handing off the gum. Touching. Still.

Billy took the spearmint gum from Shawn gently. The rest of the world blurred around Gunn's figure while Shawn watched him unwrap a new piece. Billy raised the shiny silver wrapper to his lips to press his tongue, the tip of it covered in the pinkish wad of cinnamon gum, to the surface of it. Billy's tongue was at half speed as it moved back into his mouth. Like he was teasing Shawn. Wait, was he? A new piece was in his mouth now.

Shawn was pretty sure the blue was going to drain right out of his irises if he stood there straining himself any further. With no words, not even a thanks, he walked away from Billy squeezing the cinnamon gum in his fist.

Shawn could barely speak for the rest of the day. Hunter and Chyna whispered to each other about him. He didn't appreciate their lack of discretion about it. They were really loud. Might as well have just said out loud, "Shawn, what's your problem?" It's not like it was the first time he had an attitude. More often than not recently, he always had an attitude. Nobody could figure out why, so they made stuff up. The obvious rumors around the locker room were his drug problems. Yeah, okay, maybe. He had to start taking more and more Soma for it to actually work and he was incredibly irritable when he didn't have enough. It was better for them to think that he was a junkie.

In reality, it didn't have much to do with the drugs at all. The world around him was changing a lot faster than he realized. The new millennium was approaching in a flash. What did he have to show for it? The belts he'd won were nice. The media attention fueled his inflated ego. His friends had his back no matter how shitty of a person he could be. For Shawn, it was never enough. Nothing was ever enough for him. Until earlier.

The way Billy had looked at him lit something up that had been dormant for a long while. It made Shawn's head pound. Out of all the people in the whole world, it had to be Billy Gunn. Annoying, frustratingly charming, perfectly sculpted, Billy Gunn.

WWF's golden retriever of a man was no longer well pampered and doted on. Ever since Shawn's drug problem had gotten worse, McMahon punished him. He pushed him out into the street and let him fend for himself like a stray. The rain kept pouring down on him and he didn't know how to make it stop. Looking briefly into Billy's gray-blue eyes earlier, Shawn had felt like the light was breaking through the angry storm clouds. He finally felt the warmth he'd been missing. This time it felt real. This wasn't the warmth he got from McMahon, a heat lamp sort of warmth that could be switched off any time. This was the sun.

Hot tears pricked in the corners of Shawn's eyes. This was too much all at once. Thank God he could finally be alone in his hotel room. Looking into the hotel mirror he expected those self-conscious feelings to darken his features again. Instead though, his wet lashes blinked in awe at himself. There was hope. Hope…

Shawn frantically grabbed through his pockets to search for his gum. He threw his keys, wallet, pills, and jewelry out onto the bed with worry. Where was it? It was just there. He squinted at his wallet on his bed, the red pack hiding behind it. Shawn took out two pieces of it and began to chew like his life depended on it. For the first time in his life, he actually wished it was spearmint. Just so he could know how Billy's tongue tasted. The memory of Gunn's pressing his gum against his wrapper kept playing in Shawn's mind. It was so pink.

Blood rushed to Shawn's dick again. Conflicting feelings of hate, inadequacy, and lust ping-ponged in his brain. With how hard he was, he had to admit that Billy got him going in the worst way. Fine. Now he could move on from that. As if Billy would want him anyways. Even if he did, Billy wouldn't be able to handle him. That "sexy boy" stuff wasn't just for the cute little song. The one thing Shawn never lost his confidence in were his skills in bed. No matter who he was with, men or women, or if he was on top or bottom he blew everyone's mind. Whatever to the fact that it wasn't enough to make them stay. They'd never forget him and that was more important.

Shawn began to palm himself through his pants, his eyes fluttering closed and his head falling back. He tried to make the image of Billy on his knees in front of him work, but it just wasn't coming to fruition. The pieces seemed to click together when the roles were reversed. Shawn's dishwater blond hair fell out of his face as he looked up into Billy's eyes while his tongue swirled around his cock. Billy's fingers smoothed along Shawn's hair with every lick and he smiled at the man below him in that same sincere way Shawn loved. Loved to hate, of course.

The Billy of Shawn's mind was so infuriatingly gentle. He was used to the rough stuff. Sometimes that was exactly what he wanted, but other times he wished he got to be treated a little nicer. Everyone was so used to his reputation that he didn't know how to express that without looking weak. But Gunn just knew. Billy placed his hands on either side of Shawn's face, never once breaking eye contact with him. Even when Shawn took Billy's cock down his throat Billy tried his hardest not to blink.

"You're so good, Shawn. My good boy. So beautiful…"

With that, Shawn came in his pants. He thought he was going to collapse on the floor with the way his knees buckled. Falling on the bed in front him, Shawn didn't even care that his keys were poking into his stomach or that he was uncomfortably sticky. The warmth was shining down on him.

---

A week later, Shawn still couldn't get Billy out of his mind. Whenever they were on TV together he acted as normal as possible. Even when he was around all of DX at a bar or restaurant he could keep it together. Being alone with Billy was a no go. He blamed his recent up and down mood on trying to quit Soma, which everyone was surprised at. That made him feel both awful and proud of himself. No one thought he could do it. One day he really would prove that he could.

Billy was trying his best to reach out to Shawn. He was so guarded beneath that playboy exterior. Talking to the other wrestlers, the only ones who seemed to really understand why were Chyna and Hunter. They didn't go into detail but did mention that Shawn had been hurt in the past. Billy couldn't understand who would want to hurt him. Despite him having the tendency to be a huge asshole at times, there was a lot of good about Shawn. Billy liked the little flashes of Shawn's sweet personality. He appreciated how he put his all into selling it when he was in the ring. There was an it-factor about Shawn that Billy wished he had. In Billy's night sky, Shawn was the brightest and biggest star.

It was pure luck that Shawn's favorite flavor was cinnamon. He thanked every deity he could when Shawn agreed to trade flavors. With the way Shawn had been staring at him he thought that as soon as he approached him, the shorter man would knock him out. Shawn instead maintained his tightly wound demeanor, barely speaking or moving. When their fingers touched Billy was ready to grab Shawn right there. He could tell that it made Shawn feel something. He made Shawn feel something. It was confirmed when Shawn left in a rush.

Since that moment Billy hadn't been able to break through again. Whenever he tried to speak to Shawn someone interrupted the conversation. The tight little shorts he wore into the ring were doing him no favors. Every time he was around Shawn he got so hard it hurt. It was difficult to distract himself with anything besides the thought of making Shawn say his name.

Billy was shaken out of his dilemma ridden thoughts by X-Pac.

"Hey, you going out tonight with us to the bar? We're on match two of the best three out of five drinking contest, me and Hunter."

Billy laughed out loud at this. "You and Hunter? Good luck. You'll get alcohol poisoning before you win against him."

"You think so? I won a couple nights ago." Pac raised his hand up to his chin and rubbed it in deep thought. This was obviously a big source of pride for him.

"As much as I'd like to see that, I'm staying in tonight. I'm feeling a little worn out."

Pac shrugged, then patted Billy's shoulder sympathetically. "Hope you feel better, Billy. If you change your mind, we'll be downtown. We're gonna bar crawl. Page me and I'll let you know where we're at."

Billy shook his head idly while Pac walked away. He blew loose strands of his hair out of his face in frustration. There was no way he could spend another night out with Shawn pretending like he didn't have feelings for the man. Especially if both of them got drunk. He'd rather sulk alone in his room if that was the prospect. If he couldn't have Shawn sober and present when they were together, he couldn't be with him.

Shawn walked down the hallway with a lost look on his face. His own thoughts were a little jumbled up. Chyna had invited him out to the drinking contest too, jokingly begging him to come so she wouldn't have to deal with taking care of a sloshed Hunter all by herself. He turned her down with a whisper. She hugged Shawn tight and squeezed his hand.

"You can talk to me about anything, you know that right?"

Shawn sighed and nodded his head. "I know. One day I'll tell you all about it."

After that conversation, Shawn walked around the arena in confusion. He was so antsy over the last few days. It'd been a solid month since he'd had a good match. The lack of physical contact was making him feel funny. What did he have to do to prove to McMahon that he'd be in good enough shape to get back in the squared circle and be the WWF champion?

Shawn smacked right into Gunn's oiled up chest. He shook his head, his hair flying around him in soft waves. That's all it took for Billy's shorts to get tight again.

Shawn muttered out a raspy "sorry" at Billy. He was too mentally exhausted to exert any outward feelings of hate towards him. They simmered now instead of burned, the coals in Shawn's stomach finally giving out. He still strongly disliked the man, the bright sun in everyone's sky.

"That's okay. How are you?"

"I'm… fine. Why do you care?"

"You've been looking a little down lately. I'd hate for anyone in the group to be feeling bad."

So caring. There was no way anyone could actually be this good of a person. No fucking way. Shawn knew how awful people could get.

"Yeah, I'm good."

The pair stood there awkwardly. They had managed to find the one empty hallway in the whole stadium, so there was no reason to escape. Billy was the first to break the extending silence.

"You going out tonight with the rest of them? Hunter and Pac are having a drinking contest."

For the first time all day Shawn cracked a smile. "I was there the other night when Pac won. Between you and me, he cheated. He ate a big meal before going out and Hunter didn't get the chance to."

"Not surprised. As small as he is, he's not beating anyone fair."

The two men laughed at the harmless ribbing. Billy was on top of the world at Shawn's thousand watt smile. The taller man had a soft look in his eyes that made Shawn feel fuzzy.

"I'm staying in my room tonight though. Kinda tired, you know how it is."

"Definitely. I'm actually gonna stay in too."

Shawn hummed. Billy was so easy. This had to be fate. If he invited Billy to his room, they could fuck each other's brains out and Shawn could get over this weird little hate-crush he had on him. Perfect.

"Well… if you get bored, stop by my room. I'm in 1724." Shawn had that sparkle in his eyes he got whenever he was being a flirt. He dropped his eyes down to Billy's crotch, then to put the cherry on top he winked up at him playfully. Billy's mouth fell open in shock. This was really happening.

"Alright. I might take you up on that."

Might, Shawn scoffed internally.

---

Shawn wasn't nervous. Why the fuck would he be nervous about someone who calls himself Mr. Ass?

He was pacing around his hotel room because he hadn't taken any Soma in a few hours. And he was hungry. And he was trying to break in his new shoes. Not because of Billy.

As soon as he knocked on the door, Shawn ran over to open it. He looked up at Billy in his casual clothes and wanted to sigh. Shawn knew handsome. He knew it because he looked at it in the mirror everyday. But Billy was a different kind of handsome. To Shawn, Billy was football quarterback hot and just as sweet and oblivious as one. Billy probably would have laughed at hearing that. Shawn wracked his mind to figure out how to tell him.

Although Billy had been enjoying Shawn's suit jackets and dress shirts, he did miss the colorful tights Shawn used to wear into the ring. Billy was on another planet when Shawn did a little strip tease on TV wearing his black ones, his cock leaking right into his pants. It had morphed into a fantasy for Billy. He couldn't even count how many times he got off to Shawn dancing in front of him that same way.

"You actually came."

"Yeah. You thought I wouldn't?"

Shawn shrugged. Whether he did or didn't, whatever. He didn't care. Now what? Shawn figured he might as well leap right into the fire.

"I saw how hard you were for me earlier. You really are a big guy."

Billy's cheeks immediately reddened. Those stupid shorts finally got him in trouble. He didn't know what to say as Shawn inched closer to him.

The crystal blue of Shawn's eyes glittered in the low lighting. "You hard for me right now?" Shawn's hand reached out to rub at Billy.

A groan got caught in Billy's throat. "Ah-- you know I am."

"I know you are, baby."

Shawn moved his hands back to his body to unbutton his shirt. He took his sweet time, reveling in Billy's hungry looks at him. Billy's eyes threatened to pop right out of his head at seeing the smattering of light brown hair on Shawn's chest and stomach.

"Get on your knees." Billy could barely get the words out. Shawn complied, his fantasy from the previous week playing out perfectly. Deep down within him he hoped that Billy would be just as gentle with him.

Billy's dick sprang forward at Shawn. He felt his eyes cross at the length of it. Geez, he knew he'd be big but not like this. It was leaking onto the carpet. Shawn's mind twisted at how aroused he made Billy. With a kiss at the tip of him, Billy's moan filled the room. That was exactly what Shawn needed to hear. The inside of Shawn's mouth was so hot it was verging on being uncomfortable. He'd only put the tip in so far but he was sucking at it with force, hollowing his cheeks around him.

There was no way Billy was going to be able to stand the whole time. He collapsed on the bed, forcing himself to sit up to watch Shawn crawl over to him. He smiled at the smaller man like he had just gotten done running a marathon. It made Shawn's heart beat out of his chest. He swirled his tongue around the underside of Billy's cock as he swallowed him down. He wanted to hear him come undone above him. Billy's chest puffed in and out every time his dick touched the back of Shawn's throat.

"Shawn, fuck. You're so pretty."

The pads of Billy's thumbs ran along Shawn's cheekbones. It was too intimate. Shawn gagged and hummed around the length of Billy in an attempt to get him to stop. Billy moved his hands to play in Shawn's hair. Everyone always wanted to grab and pull it when he was giving them oral. It wasn't his favorite thing, but it was another part of putting on the show. Shawn's eye twitched when Billy didn't grab but instead kept smoothing it and massaging at his scalp. Too nice, too nice, too nice--

Billy suddenly pulled out of Shawn's mouth and raised the smaller man up to pull him on top.

"Off… take your pants off…"

Billy fumbled at Shawn's zipper and thrust his slacks down. Shawn pulled them the rest of the way down in a fog. He was realizing this was not going to be the quick, one-track minded fumbling he thought it would be. Billy wanted him. All of him. Billy kissed Shawn's neck then moved up to plant little kisses all over his face. He pressed his lips against Shawn's and was shocked when he jerked his head away.

"That's okay, that's okay. I won't do it again. Only if you want me to." Billy breathed.

He flipped Shawn over onto his back and raised up onto his knees to take his shirt off. Shawn was pretty sure Billy was a Greek god who was living out his days on Earth because he was bored in Olympus. That could be the only explanation why Billy made Shawn feel so heady and intoxicated at something as simple as a shirt being taken off. Billy sure felt like a god with the way Shawn blinked at him while he did it.

"There's lube on my bathroom counter." Shawn pointed into the other room.

Billy tried not to short circuit as he raised off the bed to go into the bathroom. He almost tripped over himself returning to Shawn, fumbling with the lid of the container. Shawn so badly wanted to laugh at him, but it was kind of sweet to see how excited he was.  Billy squeezed some out into his hand and began to stroke himself on his knees above Shawn. He shut his eyes and twisted his hand around his cock trying to mentally prepare himself for what was next. Shawn took the opportunity to readjust himself by getting on all fours even though he'd miss the view. Billy was probably wanting to look in his eyes and kiss him and all that mushy stuff that Shawn just couldn't handle. Not yet.

Just as Shawn expected, he was unsurprised when Billy said "I wanted to see your face." Too bad, Gunn. I'm running the show here. Shawn arched up at him in apology.

"This is a nice view too, though." Shawn felt the weight of the bed shift below him as Billy leaned down to kiss the tattoo on his ass. He was so… sentimental. Why wouldn't he just fuck him and leave like everyone else?

Shawn pushed those thoughts out of his mind when Billy's finger began to slick against his hole. He could hear Billy muttering above him but couldn't quite make it out. Soon his finger was replaced by the tip of Billy's cock, so warm that it felt hot. Shawn took a deep breath as Billy slowly pushed inside of him.

It'd been a while since he'd been fucked by someone so big. Or fucked at all, really. He made a high pitched noise that made Billy stop dead above him.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, dammit. Keep going, please," Shawn begged.

Billy gripped Shawn's hips and filled him to the hilt. At that moment, it was like he died and went to heaven. That's what had to be happening here. Shawn was so tight around him he had a hard time thrusting. Once he finally caught the rhythm, he had no problem hitting Shawn's prostate. With every bump against it, Shawn groaned and gripped his fingers into the sheets. His pronounced arch kept falling away, but Shawn was a trooper. Every time he lost it he arched back up and pushed himself against Billy to get him deeper. He caught the bigger man right as he thrusted into him and let out a scream he was sure the room next to him could hear. Fuck it.

Billy reached down to grab Shawn's cock. It was twitching below him and looking just as pretty as the rest of him. Billy had dreamed too many times of feeling it in his hand to not start stroking the man the way he stroked himself, slow and twisting. Tears started to stream down Shawn's face at the pleasure. He rubbed his face into the sheets to dry them away. When he raised up again he turned his head around to look at Billy's face and groan his name.

Billy had to stare up at the ceiling. If he looked at Shawn's face or back down at the tattoo for a second longer he was done right then and there, and it wasn't time for that yet. It was close, but he just needed one more thing…He used the little force he had left in his weakening muscles to flip Shawn onto his back. He bared down on the man below him, shaking his hair out and raising one of Shawn's legs up for a better angle. Shawn could barely comprehend what was going on, but he did miss the feeling of Billy's rough hand against his dick.

"I want you to look at me, Shawn. Look at me, please," Billy kissed Shawn's cheek and entered him again.

They were too close! Billy was such a weirdo, but he'd give this weirdo whatever he needed. So Shawn blinked his long lashes at him and stared into his eyes. Billy smiled again. He was slower this time, annoyingly. Shawn knew he was going to come soon. He was getting to the limit himself.

"You're beautiful." Billy kissed Shawn's other cheek.

Shawn shifted below him. He wanted to cry at being called beautiful. He didn't deserve such sweet words from a guy like Billy. How did he see anything good in him? Because he was just that cool of a guy. It made Shawn soften. He didn't dislike Billy. Not at all. He liked him quite a bit. Shawn just didn't like himself. But Billy did. When no one else really liked Shawn, Billy did. He was still nice to him even when he barked back after all this time.

"Kiss me," Shawn whispered.

Before he could even get the last word out, Billy gently pressed his lips against Shawn's. The kiss hastily deepened, tongues swirling around each other like they'd never be able to kiss each other again. Billy lost his breath and had to break it to catch it again. As soon as he saw the completely open and vulnerable look on Shawn's face…

Snap!

Billy pulled out of Shawn just in time to paint his stomach with his come. The sight of it in Shawn's happy trail would be burned into his memory until the end of time. Shawn looked at the mess with awe while Billy began to stroke him again.

"Oh, Shawn. God, you're amazing. You did such a good job for me. You made me feel like I was on top of the world. Now I wanna make you feel good. You deserve it, baby."

Billy removed his hand and placed his mouth around Shawn's cock just as he released. He copied that thing Shawn did when he hollowed his cheeks out, making him almost jolt off the bed. Billy happily swallowed all of Shawn's come and kissed the tip of him before taking his mouth off.

Shawn was completely spent. All he could do was look up at the ceiling and try to make sense of what just happened. Billy managed to climb out of the bed and head to the bathroom to get  a warm, wet towel for Shawn. He shut the door behind him and took a minute to replay everything. It was a blur right now, but he was sure he'd remember every little thing over the next few days.

When Billy exited the bathroom, he returned to see Shawn knocked out. Seeing him like that and knowing he did it was better than winning the belt. He took care to clean Shawn up as carefully as possible to not wake him.

---

The next morning, Shawn felt the warmth of the sun surrounding him on all sides. That was strange, he couldn't help but think. He squinted his eyes at the rays beaming through the windows. When he turned away from them, he had the surprise of his life seeing Billy lying beside him in a deep sleep.

He stayed.

No one stayed.

No one except Billy.

Shawn nuzzled against his chest and fell back asleep quickly.

[casspurrjoybell-26]

💖Sweet Revenge💖 - Chapter 20

*Warning Adult Content*

Blake Welling

Aaron's been working hard lately, as usual.

Both sides of our business are doing great but his is legitimately booming and as if the candy wasn't enough, he's expanded to catering as well.

Some other business refused to cater a lesbian wedding and Aaron stepped in and offered to give it a shot, pro bono.

It went so well, he ended up booked through the end of the year.

I understand and it's not like he's been neglecting me or anything but sometimes I just want to take him away somewhere, tie him up, fuck him hard and teach him to relax.

Not necessarily in that order. 

Ten minutes of wallowing is enough and I force myself to get up and decide what to do with the rest of the day.

I'd taken it off and I'd thought Aaron would too.

Now I don't know what to do with myself.

I decide to go for a ride.

I love my bike.

It's a top brand and I got it at a steep discount through a promo deal with the shop.

It's way beyond anything I'd be able to afford otherwise.

Besides Aaron, it's my baby.

I can't ride like I once did... a hundred miles at a time, pushing through pain and fatigue just for the reward of knowing what my body can do... but recently I've at least been able to get back into the rhythm of regular rides.

I take a series of back streets and side roads, skirting the busier areas.

When it comes to traffic, I'm still a little gun-shy but there's a paved bike trail on the edge of town and it's peacefully deserted at this time of day.

I ride its whole ten-mile length... farther than I've gone so far.

Taking my time, with plenty of stops to rest my leg, I get back home around noon, hang my bike up in the garage and go in for a shower.

When I come out, wrapped in a loose towel, a noise makes me freeze.

It sounds like someone dropping something in the kitchen but I'm the only one at home.

Heart in my mouth, I creep forward down the hall.

On the way, I grab a framed picture from the wall.

It's not much of a weapon but it's the only thing at hand.

In the frame, Aaron laughs up at me while I grin at the camera.

My mom took it the last time she visited.

Rounding the corner, I prepare to defend my home with life and limb, deadly picture-frame in hand.

What I see sends all thoughts of violence... all thoughts of any kind, actually... fleeing my mind like doves released en masse.

Aaron stands at the stove, stirring something in a small saucepan and humming to himself.

That isn't so odd.

I've seen that plenty of times.

What's different is that he's wearing nothing but his candy-making apron.

It's tied loosely around his slender waist, the tails trailing over his bare ass and swaying between his legs as he rocks gently to whatever tune is playing in his head.

I make some noise... probably a sort of choking, gagging sound and he turns towards me, lips spreading in that beautiful smile I love so much.

His bare shoulders and arms look pale and graceful and I don't know why the hell  it turns me on so much, seeing him like this, except that it's the two things I love most in this world reduced to their barest elements... this man and his candy.

"Aaron...?" my voice is strained and breathless.

He lifts a silicone spatula from the saucepan.

It's dripping chocolate in silky strands.

He gives a quick twist with his wrist, twirling the ribbons and then brings it to his mouth and licks it, red tongue turning dark with molten sweet.

He swallows and bites his lip.

"Almost ready," he says, eyes locked on mine.

On the counter, a plate of strawberries waits.

I move towards him, wondering if maybe I've had a heart attack and my body is lying dead in the shower or something because this looks like heaven.

He turns back to the pan, stirring the contents with the lazy self-assurance of the professional.

I come and stand at his back, breathing in the scent of him and trail my fingers from his shoulders down his lightly muscled arms.

"Uh-uh," he chides, prying my hands off with the handle of his spatula.

"No touching. Not yet."

He smirks.

"What? Did you think I forgot?"

"Uh... yes."

He laughs.

It's a low, sinful sound.

"Now back off, before you get burned."

I do as he says but instead of heaven, now I'm in some kind of chocolate-themed hell, watching and not allowed to touch.

I realize I'm still wrapped in nothing but the towel and that I'm painfully erect.

Two can play at this game.

I let the towel fall and wait for him to turn.

When he does, his eyes drop and go dark.

He licks his lips.

"Well... dip me in chocolate and call me a banana pop," he says.

I should be used to it by now but it still makes me choke and I have to yield the victory.

As ever, he wins.

"Not long now," he assures me.

The strawberries are perfect... long-stemmed and just the right size for a single bite, plump and red.

He takes each by the stem between his finger and thumb and dips them expertly in the melted chocolate.

Then he sets them on a sheet of wax paper cool.

When the last is done, he dips his own fingers in the cooling chocolate and comes towards me, rolling his hips.

He slides his fingers past my lips, across my tongue.

"Suck," he demands.

I suck him clean.

When he withdraws his fingers, a string of saliva trails from my mouth.

He wipes his fingers on his apron and then his mouth is on mine, hot and wet and hungry.

"Do you want me?" he asks, when he comes up for air, lips swollen and slick.

The question is rhetorical.

"God... yes."

His smile stretches a little wider.

"Did you really think I forgot?"

"I... yes."

"I love you Blake Welling but you're an idiot sometimes."

I can't argue.

Most of my blood is below my waist, for one thing.

He takes my hand and pulls me into the living room.

There, he kisses me again, sucking my tongue like it's one of his strawberries.

"Lie down," he says, hands on my shoulders, pushing me to my knees.

I do as he says, lying back on the carpet.

He kneels over me.

I can't see what he's doing behind the drape of his apron but I feel it when he takes me in his hand and guides the head of my cock to his hole.

"Wait..." I gasp.

"Are you ready?"

He grins.

"That was a long ride you went on, babe. I'm more than ready and now it's my turn."

He throws his head back and impales himself on my length in a single, swift motion.

I can't breathe.

"Oh God... fuck," I gasp, struggling for air.

"That's the idea," he says, smirking.

He rides me, taking his own pleasure, slow and sensuous.

I see the red tip of his tongue against his lips and he gasps softly as he moves with me inside him.

Finally, I can't bear it anymore and he knows it.

He gives himself to me hard and fast.

A cry... tears itself from my lips... as I come and he thrusts down, taking me deep.

Slowly, he pulls off me, my softening shaft slicked with lube and my own spill.

His mouth finds mine once more.

"Happy birthday, you sick fuck," he says.

"Don't expect this every year."

~♡♡♡~ ~The End~ ~♡♡♡~

[ohblackdiamond]

catch my drift (gene/vanity, very brief mentions of paul/gene) (nc-17)

Nikki hadn’t even cut a record yet when KISS was at its peak. Neither had Prince. She takes an idle lick of her cone, thinking about how Nikki had brushed Gene off last night. So fucking washed up, he’d said. But sitting here in the ice cream parlor, self-assured and comfortable, keen interest in his dark eyes, he doesn’t look washed up at all. During the filming of Never Too Young to Die, Gene and Vanity make a connection.

“catch my drift”

by Ruriruri

“That’s your outfit, huh?”

“That’s my outfit.” 

Sitting down at the table in her trailer, looking through the movie promo pictures, Nikki seems like he’s seconds from salivating. Which is kind of cute, given how long he’s been on the groupie hunt. Rockstars start getting so burned out, wanting weirder and weirder kinks out of girls and even girlfriends. It’s charming that a shot of her in a cleavage-baring top can still eke something boyish out of him.

Admittedly, it’s pretty cute. White and kind of pirate-style, long, flowy sleeves, and a neckline that doesn’t leave much to the imagination. Totally impractical for the scene--she’s supposed to be riding a horse, then killing some of Ragnar’s goons--but that’s all right. The whole movie’s all about the eye candy, like any James Bond parody ought to be. If Never Too Young to Die does as well as The Last Dragon, well, she’ll be happy.

Nikki’d come over after the shoot was done for the day, like a good boyfriend. He’d been chasing her around off and on a couple years before they’d ever gotten together. She hadn’t minded, exactly; she just hadn’t been available. It had been sweet—compared to Prince and even Adam, he was so tall and lanky, like an overgrown, skinny puppy. Eventually, he’d managed to catch her between boyfriends and then they’d kind of fallen into it. They fooled around on each other, but they had a lot in common. They did the same drugs. They fought over the same stupid shit over and over again. They occasionally liked talking about getting married and having kids. They both ended up high off their asses onstage and passed out in trashed hotel rooms.

It was just one of those things. It’s still just one of those things. He might propose to her eventually. She might take him up on it.

  “You should see what I’m wearing during the club scene with Gene.” They haven’t finished filming that one yet. She rummages through the pictures, finally finding it. It’s a blue gown with a thick trim of silver sequins down the v-neck front. The v-neck comes an inch shy of being all the way down to her navel. Needless to say, she’s not wearing a bra that entire scene.

Nikki’s properly impressed.

         “Jesus. He must’ve hit on you as soon as you walked out of the dressing room.”

         “Nah. But he looked like he wanted to.”

         Nikki snorts.

         “He’s so fucking washed up. Him and his princess knocked us off their tour a couple years back.”

         Vanity doesn’t know who the princess is. Possibly the blonde that’s stopped by every so often. Sharon or—no, Shannon. She’s been in Playboy. But Shannon doesn’t quite strike her as the type to get involved in her man’s band.

“Why?”

         “’Cause we were getting more out of the crowd. You think anybody but them wants to hear all that seventies shit?” Nikki shakes his head.

         “That’s sad, Nikki. You should’ve felt sorry for them.”

         “Nothing to feel sorry for. They had their time.” Nikki stretches and heads for the fridge, pulling out a couple bottles of beer. 

         “Had their time? What if someone says that about you in a couple years?” 

Nikki just shrugs.

He stays a few hours. Just long enough for them both to get high and get off a few times; then, probably on half-remembered orders from Doc, he gets someone to drive him back. Vanity listens to the sound of the limo backing out as she tugs on her bathrobe, musing.

Not much afterglow these days, even with coke and booze. It’s not even like they fought any tonight, either; there’s just not a lot of satisfaction once it’s over, somehow. Going, going, gone. She feels a bit emptied out as the taillights fade off into the distance. A bit—a bit low. There’s no glitz left once the orgasm’s over, once the euphoria fades out. Just a weird, wasted feeling. Ten years ago, she wouldn’t have thought it was possible.

She’s about to go back to bed when she hears someone pull up. At first she thinks it’s Nikki again, in a sappy or horny mood, but when she walks over to the window, she realizes it’s not a limo. It’s just a car.

Vanity’s not coked-up enough to be stupid. She hurries to the trailer door, making sure it’s locked, then pushes a chair in front of it. But it turns out she doesn’t need to. The car engine shuts off; there’s a beep, and then, finally, someone steps out. She can’t tell who it is, with not much more but the lights inside to really go off of, but from the shape and size, it’s a man. He’s not heading for her trailer. He’s heading for Gene’s.

--

It’s none of her business, sure. Hollywood, the music industry, all of it, is crammed with gays and bisexuals and wannabes. It’s to the point she thought Prince was gay and just wanting a beard when he first came on to her—which, well, shows how much she knew. But it really is hard to tell. For every one guy that’s out in his own private circle, there are probably five or six that hire on their boyfriends as secretaries or get in touch with a male escort service every tour, thinking they’re being stealthy.

Gene doesn’t strike her as remotely gay, anyway. There’s that rep of his, of course, but his interactions seal the deal. He’s sent a good amount of come-ons her way during shootings and breaks for lunch and dinner. He’s even had the gall to hit on her while his girlfriend’s in tow, something Vanity would never have put up with out of Nikki. Gene’s always got that total ease, like he’s absolutely fine with being blown off. It’s something she appreciates, a guy who doesn’t expect anything and doesn’t take it personally, in a town where everyone takes it personally.

And she’s seen the way he looks at her, that approving want she’s gotten out of guys ever since she was a teenager. It’s so customary. She’d ignored it from him up until now. Gene’s smart, and a good conversationalist, but he hadn’t interested her before. He’s not exactly a traditionally attractive guy, and he’s got right at nine or ten years on her, but those things aren’t the real issue. As much as she hates to admit it, Nikki wasn’t wrong about him. KISS is getting too old for the game, and Gene’s using the movies to try to bow out entirely. And after dating Prince, all her own pickings are a downhill slope, anyway.

But now, Gene’s intriguing. There are only two reasons for any guy to be sneaking up to his trailer that late at night. One’s for drugs, and Gene’s so clean they don’t even offer him the wine list at restaurants. The other’s for a lay. 

“Let’s go out, Gene.”

She says it casually, five minutes or so after they’ve wrapped for the evening. His eyes absolutely light up. He’s still in most of the Velvet garb, minus the gigantic headpiece and pink boas. A sparkle-encrusted, flesh-colored bodystocking, with studded leather cupping his breasts and outlining his whole body. Weird armor-like protrusions at the shoulders. And the crotch--shit,  it’s all pure fetishwear. Then again, Gene’s definitely used to that.

“Where?”

He’s still got on most of the makeup from the shoot, too. Layers of pink and purple eyeshadow, sharp cheek contour, and matching lipstick. It gives an interesting cast to his broad, heavy features, manages to create some androgyny in a face that’s so decidedly masculine. The colors aren’t bad on his swarthy, tanned skin, either.

“Oh, I don’t know. You’ve lived here a couple years, yeah? I bet you know some great places.” Vanity smiles. “Don’t worry. Promise I’m a cheap date.”

“I don’t think a girl that goes by Vanity could ever be a cheap date.” He’s grinning right back. “How’s your Italian?”

“Worse than my Japanese.”

“Perfect.”

An hour later, he’s stripped off the makeup and costume,down to a pair of black leather pants and a casual-enough button-down, a good enough match for her cream-colored, ruffled blouse and jeans. He surprises her when he has his driver pull into an ice-cream parlor rather than a restaurant.

“This place serves some of the best gelato you can get on the West Coast,” he says, ushering her inside. “Sorbets aren’t too bad, either.”

“Don’t tell me you’re watching your figure, Gene.”

“That corset’s a pain in the ass,” he says lightly. “Pick what you’d like.”

She gets a scoop of pistachio in a cone. Gene gets a bowl with three scoops-- one vanilla, one chocolate, one hazelnut-- and starts in with an eagerness that’s a little cute. She’s sort of had it with the prissy types that act like they’ve always had money. It’s better to watch a man eat like he’s starved than watch him snivel and pick at his food like all the luckless models she used to know.

“How is it?” he asks, in between spoonfuls.

“It’s good. Really creamy.”

“Good.”

“You want a taste?”

“Wouldn’t turn it down,” he says, and she tilts the cone his way. That too-long tongue of his slips lizardlike against the gelato, swiping a bit, and then he snaps off a chunk of the cone between his teeth. It’s honestly a little fascinating. Maybe he’s not laying claim yet so much as seeing where she’s at, figuring out how to proceed. Or, maybe, three scoops of gelato just aren’t enough for him. He smiles. “Not quite Italy, but close.”

“I’ve never been to Italy.”

“Really?”

“Nah. I modeled in Japan for awhile, starting out. I was too short to do it in New York.” She grins back. “They’ve got pretty good ice cream there, I was surprised. They had this kind with green tea.”

“Matcha.”

“Yeah, that’s it.” She keeps going. “And weird flavors like wasabi… you’ve been over there, right?”

“We played the Budokan.”

“Right, yeah. You’ve been everywhere.” Mr. Rockstar. One of many. He’s just been at it longer than her guys. All her guys. Nikki hadn’t even cut a record yet when KISS was at its peak. Neither had Prince. She takes an idle lick of her cone, thinking about how Nikki had brushed Gene off last night. So fucking washed up, he’d said. But sitting here in the ice cream parlor, self-assured and comfortable, keen interest in his dark eyes, he doesn’t look washed up at all. “I’m just a simple Canadian girl over here. Got any favorite places?”

“Oh, the hell you are.” He laughs, and she can’t help but chuckle herself. “It’s a very cute shtick, but you’re no ingenue.”

“What was your first clue?”

“Your albums.”

“Yeah? Didn’t think they were your kind of music.”

“I keep tabs. I’ve got a few bands I produce myself.”

Oh. She didn’t know that. So he’s not just doing the singer-actor bit, like everybody from Frank Sinatra to Mick Jagger tried. He really is diversifying his portfolio, or whatever the expression is. Diversifying his portfolio, or trying to get the hell out of KISS.

“You never answered my question.” He’s already more than halfway done with his three scoops of gelato. How he’s managed to polish it off between staring at her, she’s not quite sure. On impulse, she offers her cone to him again, just to get a better look at that tongue. He laps the gelato in long, thick strokes, leaving her with maybe an inch of it remaining above the cone. “Do you have any favorite places?”

“They all start to look the same when you mostly see them from the tour bus.” 

“Favorite girls?”

“That’d be telling, sweetheart.”

He’s not giving her a good opening. That’s okay. She’ll make one herself. She takes another lick of what little remains of her gelato, then nibbles around the cone. She’s not trying to be particularly sensual about it, but Gene’s gaze is locked on her anyway as she speaks.

“I saw someone come to your trailer last night. Who was it?”

      He doesn’t hesitate. His gaze doesn’t drop from her face. In fact, he smiles.

         “Paul Stanley.”

“Are you together?” It’s hard to picture. Or maybe not so hard at all. Paul’s pretty effeminate. It’d make a certain amount of sense, aesthetically and otherwise. Keeping it within the band would stymie any concerns about either one of them popping off to the press.

“No.” A pause. “There’s no commitment.”

“Just an itch, then?”

“An understanding.” Gene takes a large scoop of his own gelato, swallows. “Does it bother you?”

He sounds like he doesn’t give a shit whether it bothers her or not. She can respect that.

“No. It’s just interesting. I figured you were both only into women. Well, maybe not Paul, but…”

            “Paul likes women almost as much as I do. He just can’t hold onto them.”

“Sounds like a lot of guys I know.” 

“Would you like to meet him?” he says, ever so nonchalant. Something about his tone makes even that question sound like a come-on.

“I’ve met him already.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. My kid sister had his poster on her wall all through junior high.”

Gene just grins.

“Not mine?”

“Nah, you weren’t quite her taste. There’s a…” and she’s trailing for the right word all of a sudden, “a psychology to it, you know?”

“A psychology to taste? I’d never have imagined.” Thankfully, he doesn’t punctuate the sarcasm with a flick of his tongue. Vanity nudges his arm with her knuckles.

“A psychology to teenage girls’ taste. See, they’ve really got it in for the safe boy.”

“Paul’s only safe compared to a nuclear bomb.”

“Oh, yeah?” She quirks the side of her mouth up. “You know what I mean, right? They’ve gotta have them all packaged and shrink-wrapped. Sweet, sensitive, harmless. Takes awhile before they start growing up. Figure out Prince Charming isn’t composing poetry.”

“You’d know, Vanity.”

“I would.”

“But maybe he’s composing something a little more fun. A nasty limerick here, a dirty joke there--”

“A way into your pants there--”

“If it works, sure.” His dark eyes are glinting. He’s not handsome even when he’s amused, but there’s something there, something ineffable that goes a little past simple charm and charisma. He’s claimed it before, but she’s never seen it in action until now, the full force of intrigue aimed directly at her.

It’s not enough to knock her down, definitely not overwhelming. But it’s more than she’s expected.

“Don’t get too cocky,” she says, but she pokes the rest of the cone into his mouth.

--

They talk awhile longer. Not about the superficial crap. Not about the business. Not about Paul. She tells him about the T.V. shows she used to watch as a kid. Saturday Night at the Movies. The Wonderful World of Disney-- he remembers it as Walt Disney Presents and The Wonderful World of Color, but hell, it’s the same thing, really.

He gets a little bit endearing when he starts talking about the first shows he ever saw. Gunsmoke and Howdy Doody. He loves movies. He’ll watch just about anything, though he likes cartoons and horror.

“Aw, you’re just playing up to your image--”

“No, I’m not. I watched Dark Shadows every day after classes.”

“Everybody watched Dark Shadows. You’ve got to give me something better than that.”

“Carolyn Jones may well be my only true love.”

“Now, now, don’t get dirty with Morticia. I’m not letting you off that easy.”

“I’d never want you to.” Gene kind of grins. “What proof do you want? Give me a year and I’ll name you at least one horror movie.” 

“Is that how you get all the girls, Gene? A hot game of Trivial Pursuit?”

“Only a certain variety of girls.”

“Trekkies?”

“They find me endearing. C’mon, give me a year.”

She purses her lips, pretending to give it a serious amount of thought. It’s so nerdy of him. He’ll probably be showing her his comic book collection next. And yet he’s so incredibly cocksure and confident about it that she could almost, almost– 

Almost what? Buy it? No, she can’t buy it. Gene’s more fascinating than she’d ever counted on, but she can’t buy it. Intrigued, aroused, but anything past that, hell. She was never a groupie; the guys all came to her. She doesn’t have it in her to fall hard for anyone, least of all a middle-aged, bisexual rockstar with a potbelly.

Gene’s brown eyes are on hers, waiting. Oh. She still needs to give him a year. 

“’31.”

“Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, with Fredric March. And Dracula, of course.”

 ‘I vant to suck your blood’... please, Gene.”

“If you’re offering.” Gene’s hand finds its way to her wrist, lifting it as he bends his head down. Her fingers twitch when he opens his mouth, showing slightly-yellow teeth and a handful of fillings–and then his jaw snaps shut on nothing at all.

“No follow through?”

An exaggeratedly chivalrous kiss on her wrist. One that really shouldn’t make her feel warm. 

“Lon Chaney was always more my scene. Charles Laughton, too.”

“Wasn’t he… he was the fat guy in Spartacus, right?”

“Good girl. And Quasimodo in The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Chaney played him, too, but I like Laughton’s performance more. The part where he watches Esmerelda get carried away by Captain Phoebus…”

“You pitied him.”

“I was him.” He’s still touching her, his hand warm and heavy around her wrist. “Quasimodo’s every fat teenage boy that ever lived.”

“And now? Are you still him?”

“I’ve got a real nice bell tower these days.”

“I bet you want me to see it. This is how it starts, right? Gelato and a limo ride, and then you take me to your trailer and I end up with rugburn.”

“And you claimed you were a simple Canadian girl.”

“You were right not to believe me.” She tugs her hand away, tapping his wrist lightly. “So let’s see. Go on, take me to your trailer.”

His grin could have lit up half of Hollywood as they head out of the ice cream shop, arm in arm, like kids playing house.

–

The inside of his on-location trailer is messy. Promos and flyers and magazines (some filthy, others are just standards like Variety and Time). Candy wrappers and Coke bottles in wastebaskets and on the floor. The bedroom’s occupied mostly by the bed and partially by a T.V. But Gene gestures around like it’s a castle.

“My bell tower.”

“I thought you were gonna have to unzip for that,” she says, and he laughs hard. She takes off her boots and perches on the bed. There’s the vague whiff of a man’s cologne, one she’d never noticed on Gene, but there’s no other obvious signs that anyone else, man or woman, has been in here.

It’s just that she wonders, is all. She wonders, and he’s fun. Still worth a little fooling around with. She stretches a bit and starts to unbutton her blouse.

“You’ve had them all, haven’t you?”

It’s not meant as a come-on. Well, not completely. Gene’s found his way behind her on the bed, his hand pushing her hair back just so he can mouth at her neck. His lips are warm, just as warm as they’d been on her wrist.

“You’ve never had them all.”

“You’ve– I mean there’s nothing new for you. You’ve seen everything. You’ve done everything.” Two more buttons and she’s free of her blouse. One elastic snap and he’s freed her from her bra, too. Her pulse speeds suddenly as she turns to kiss him. “You get it, don’t you? Don’t you? What’s left, Gene?”

“You’ve never done everything. No matter what, you can’t afford to ever think like that.” His face clouds just a little, but not enough to overwhelm the want in his expression. “If you do, it’ll kill you.”

Already she’s amazed he can even summon that much brainpower. His dick’s hard and straining through those leather pants already. But he keeps on going, heedless, for now, of his own need, eyes so intent on hers she feels like both their visions have telescoped into only each other.

“You have to keep believing there’s something out of reach. Something else you can try for.”

“Another thrill.”

“Not your thrills.” Gene’s fingers slip to the button and zipper of her jeans. The thin, lacey panties aren’t much of a barrier against the intent rhythm of his hand. “Mine.”

She tries to respond, but she’s already bucking, and a little wet, as his fingers press just-so against her folds. Another kiss and somehow now she’s found herself hoisted onto his lap, wriggling helplessly as his fingers slide beneath her underwear. She’s trying not to cry out too much, trying to play it collected and cool and easy, but a few small moans escape her anyway.

His fingers are broad, practiced. He eases an orgasm out of her like a guitar solo, right there on his lap, leaving her grunting and open, rubbing against his hand to try and tease another crescendo, suddenly greedy. He unzips after that, finally, shoving his pants and briefs down in one motion, leaving them around his thighs. Sloppy. The product, probably, of over ten years on the road. She doesn’t give a damn at all once he starts to thrust.

Overcome, that’s it. She’s overcome. She doesn’t know how that could possibly be. His mouth on hers, his body against hers, pressing her into the mattress. Nothing new about any of the motions, the thrusts that go from rhythmic to erratic as they both get closer and closer, the heaviness of their breaths, the slickness of their bodies. The only thing new is him. 

– 

They lay together awhile after. Vanity stares up at the low ceiling of the trailer bedroom. Gene’s got an arm self-assuredly around her bare shoulders. He doesn’t move when she sits up. 

“I should get back.” 

“Later. Shower with me.” Gene looks like he has no intention of getting out of bed anytime in the near future. 

“Bathroom’s too small,” she says, grinning. “I guess that’s the point.”

His hand’s tracing absentmindedly down to her bare breast. She pushes it away, sitting up and swinging her legs off the side of the bed. 

“I really gotta go, Gene.” Nikki’s too laughable an excuse to bother with, and the truth’s too complex to bother putting to words. She likes to think he understands. 

“All right. You know where to find me.”

She steps back into her clothes, eying him carefully, just off to her side. Not too much lasciviousness right now, just a little, and something else she thinks she recognizes. 

“Vanity–”

“Denise,” she slips out suddenly. “It’s Denise.”

“Denise.” The corner of his mouth lifts up. “Denise, you’re a beautiful girl. But Hollywood, music, it’s rotten. It’s a cesspool. You’ll never find what you’re looking for here.”

“I know.” 

“Find what you really want and hold onto it.” Urgent, strangely urgent. Doting. He’s sitting up, tugging up and zipping his pants as he speaks. “The paint always flakes off. The highs go to shit. I’ve seen it a million times. Don’t destroy yourself over something cheap.” 

Sex and a sermon. But he’s so focused, so sincere that she nods, in acknowledgment, if not agreement. 

“I’ll see you on the set, Quasimodo.”

“Goodbye, Esmeralda.” 

He walks her out, takes her all the way to her own trailer, like the gentlemen he isn’t. Kisses her before she steps inside, and a part of her wants to let him in, even then. But she goes in alone, strips and showers, the water droplets insistent against her skin. 

Twenty-seven to his thirty-seven. Up and coming to his washed-up. And yet it’s Gene with the vibrance and the zest for life. And yet, somehow, it’s Gene that understands. 

(there’s something out of reach)

(something you can try for)

Just once, she’d like to believe that. Just once.

[morganaspendragonss]

fic rec friday fun!

thank you @reyesstrand for the tag! it's very much not friday but fuck it we're doing this anyway

so wanted to get some hiatus rec lists going and encourage some self promo in my friends so how about sharing your top fics no matter how big or small — give us the links to your wonderful words with the most hits/most kudos/most comments/most bookmarks/most words/least words.

much like maddie, i'm going to be excluding one-shot compilations from this. i'll also limit this to strictly lone star fics

most hits: tick-tock goes the clock - 2.06 minefield canon divergence

most kudos: fall apart when it hurts too much - post-2.12 coda

most comments: it would be a collection but as i'm excluding them it's quédate un segundo más - tk cancer fic

most bookmarks: will you take my hand? - tarlos 3.04 coda/fix-it

most words: technically it's the minefield fic and then a fic of which i only wrote the epilogue, then it's i see darkness where you see light - an acid attack renders tk permanently blind

least words: nightmare - carlos has a nightmare. that's it, that's the fic.

not going to tag anyone specific seeing as we're well into saturday but if you see this and want to take part then consider yourself tagged!

[celestias-selfships]

Promo

The old Anastasia can’t come to the phone right now.

Why?

Oh, cause she’s dead!

Hi, I'm Anastasia, I'm 19, and I love selfshipping. I left the community and kept this blog for a while because I was not mentally ok and I was healing. I wanna be here and make friends here. I don't care about politics. I don't care what views you hold, I just wanna make friends. I'm a huge Swiftie. I'm down to share F/Os, if you don't want to and you don't want me to interact, let me know. If you have rules for people who have the same f/os, let me know and I'll follow them and tag.

turbulent INTJ, Hufflepuff (not supporting JKR, just liking the vibes of the hufflepuff common room and the double entendre), Reputation stan, harbinger of chaos, princess

Favorite artists: The Doors, Taylor Swift, Palaye Royale, Elle Lexxa, Siouxie and the Banshees, The Cure, Nine Inch Nails

Self insert: Celestia, an ex disney actress turned popstar.

tag: #I'll be the actress staring in your bad dreams

Celestia's wiki

F/O list with tags (in case we share, you can filter those tags if you want) and statuses (if no status, assume we're still dating)

Geralt of Rivia (not Liam Hemsworth, married, The Witcher) #linked by destiny

Alucard (Hellsing) #Hells Bells

Jareth (Labyrinth) #dance on fire as it intends

Damon Salvatore (weird on/off again fling, The Vampire Diaries) #maybe we got lost in translation

Enzo St. John (The Vampire Diaries) #with every guitar string scar on my hand

Elijah Mikaelson (The Originals) #never let me go

The Darkling/Alexsander Morova (Shadow and Bone) #Moonlit Drive

Dean Winchester (Supernatural) #november flush and your flannel cure

John Reese (Person Of Interest) #my knight in shining armor

Silco (Arcane) #we got the love in automatic

Viktor (Arcane #Gold Rush

Malcolm Bright #brighten up my life

Leon Scott Kennedy (Resident Evil) #whiskey on ice sunset and vine

Reno Sinclair (Final Fantasy 7) #aint it funny

Ferid Bathory (Seraph of the End) #nocturnal serenade

Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer on Netflix) #Don't blame me

Daryl Dixon (The Walking Dead) #the archer

Astarion (Baldur's gate III) #i was enchanted to meet you

Undertaker (Black Butler) #angel of small death and the codeine scene

Sebastian Michaelis (Black Butler) #carnations you had thought were roses

Connor (Detroit Become Human) #Can we always be this close

Karl Heisenberg (Resident Evil Village) #a shot in the darkest dark

Killian Jones (Once Upon A Time) #today was a fairytale

Spencer Reid (Criminal Minds) #is it cool that I said all that

Robert Montague Renfield (Renfield) #a love for the ages

Blade (Honkai Star Rail) #love the void

Patrick Jane (The Mentalist) #crazy = genius

August Ruthven (The Case Study of Vanitas) #red are the arms of luxuriant chairs and you won't know a thing until you get inside

Noe (The Case Study of Vanitas) #good old fashioned lover boy

Vanitas (The Case Study of Vanitas) #mr doctor man

Dwayne (the Lost Boys) #wait for the signal and I'll meet you after dark

Jerry (2011 Fright Night) #take the highway to the end of the night

Kaeya Alberich (Genshin Impact) #like snow on the beach

Tartaglia/Childe (Genshin Impact) #Ocean blue eyes looking in mine Alhaitham (Genshin Impact) #life was a willow and it bent right to your wind

@canongf Hi, I'm the anon who is returning after a bit. thank you for letting me tag you!

[hologramcowboy]

https://www.instagram.com/p/Bn_iTyRAWe5/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=

Danneel has said in the past that her red hair is a carryover from Rachel, her character on OTH. Not surprising that she’s spent years clinging to the only relevant thing she’s done in her life other than trapping Jensen. The link is to an Instagram post dedicated to the “Rachel red” from when she was doing promo for her (aka Hilarie Burton’s) movie and trying to remind people she exists. She wishes she was iconic enough to have a hair color coined after her. Not sure why it’s gotten drastically more orange as the years have passed, probably the same reason her fillers keep getting worse and worse: being blinded by body dysmorphia.

I think her best hair color was the honey blonde hair she had after JJ was born. Whenever she’s tried to go back to being a brunette it’s been very hit or miss…with hit being a pretty generous descriptor.

Sidenote: it feel like she deleted a ton of instagram photos since the last time I was on her profile. I accidentally scrolled all the way to her very first post and it used to take forever to make it to that point.

How bland and boring, she truly has no personality of her own and uh she wishes she was iconic.

If she is deleting photos she's probably getting ready for a rebrand again. Like she did when she suddenly shifted from super trashy almost naked pics to only family shots of Jensen with the kids, her kids, her and the kids because, you know, she needed to use her fame tokens, after all. Since her trashy half naked pics weren't really bringing her the fame she wanted. 🤣 She moved on to creepily posting pictures of her children in distress, dirty, upset, etc which just made me realize she's not that balanced nor responsible so I don't even follow her because I don't need that kind of negative, creepy energy in my life. Also, her fake slacktivism makes me pity her limited, self absorbed mind. She's so desperate for validation and famehungry she'll pretend to support anything and then in her DMs she trashes people who try to confront her on the very important topics she claims to support.

I had forgotten about the honey blonde, I think you're right, it might look softer on her than dark brown, especially since she is generally bad at picking shades that match her type. She has vulgar features so honey blonde would soften that impact greatly.

[nikibogwater]

Niki Blethers: Daniel Spellbound first impressions:

I’ve only watched the first episode, so I’m not considering anything I talk about here as Spoiler Territory, but if you want to go in to this show absolutely 100% blind, maybe skip this post.

The short version: Color me intrigued. 

Followers of mine already know that I am a huuuuuuuge fan of the Tales of Arcadia series on Netflix (sans the movie–we don’t talk about the movie), so when I first heard the premise for Daniel Spellbound, it immediately struck me as being in a similar vein as that series.

It’s an urban fantasy following the magical misadventures of a teenager and a talking pig. What’s interesting about this premise to me is the fact that our main characters start the series already fully aware of and participating in the magical underground that exists beneath New York City. Daniel isn’t some normal kid who discovers this magical world by accident, he’s been living and working in it for years by the time of the first episode. 

Speaking of Daniel, I like him as our main protagonist so far. He’s a quick-thinking, fast-talking, maybe-sorta-rule-breaking kid who has obviously been alone for way too long. He works as a Tracker–someone who hunts down magical artifacts and ingredients for wizards to use in their spells–but he doesn’t take any pride in his work, and even describes magic as “a scam.” Right out of the gate he’s shown to have no qualms about taking even the lowest, most disgusting jobs if it means getting paid (our introduction to him is literally him sticking his arm in a mound of troll crap to retrieve the mushrooms growing inside). But there’s also a quiet warmth to him, which comes out most prominently in his interactions with Hoagie the magical talking pig.

I’m gonna be up front here, when I first saw Hoagie’s design in a promo image, I was SO ready to hate him. Like, I know it’s not fair to hold him to the same standard as Archie the Cat-Dragon from ToA: Wizards, but I couldn’t help it. So I was pleasantly surprised to find that Hoagie….is actually very tolerable. And there is an in-universe reason for the eyepatch, a very dark and traumatic reason that hasn’t been outright stated, but heavily implied. 

Hoagie himself is actually very similar to Daniel, being a little self-centered and extremely sarcastic. I really like the dynamic between the two of them as a result. They butt heads more often than not (Hoagie’s best character moments are when he is just aggressively sassing the ever-living daylights out of Daniel), but their back and forth can be very fun, and it’s really satisfying to see them come out of the first episode as a newly-formed team. 

I can see Hoagie’s character being obnoxious to some (especially since he spends the majority of the first episode being a pain in Daniel’s neck), but I ended up tentatively liking him, and I really like the potential for friendship that has formed between him and Daniel. 

This show’s portrayal of magic is very fun and creative. From a hotdog vendor making duplicates of himself to expand his business reach, to a half-pint witch known for her highly dangerous magical pies and her propensity for holding intense grudges, it really feels like magic in this world is full of infinite possibilities, and not just limited to flashing lights and floating books. 

The magical environments reflect this as well, creating a very cool contrast with the drab and mundane New York City. I especially love the creature design of the trolls in the first part of the episode.

The animation is serviceable. It’s pretty obvious that they were on a tight budget, but that’s not something I hold against them. In fact, I have to commend the animators and directors for their clever management of limited resources. As I said above, the magical environments are extremely creative and even downright breathtaking in some shots. Character animation can be a little weightless from time to time, especially during an action sequences, but if that’s the show’s biggest flaw in terms of visuals, they’re doing pretty good. 

The dialogue can feel a little weird and choppy here and there, but it’s definitely nowhere near as bad as some other shows/movies I’ve seen. 

Overall, I’m interested to see where this series goes. I want to see more of the magical underworld, I want to learn more about Daniel, and I’m eager to see more of him and Hoagie bonding (or just Hoagie sassing him some more, honestly both are good). I don’t want to jump the gun and say it’s great, but from the first episode, I can safely say that it’s got a lot of great potential, enough that I’m going to keep watching and see where they go with that. Depending on how it turns out, I may do a longer and more comprehensive post about the series as a whole, but for now, I can at least say that it is worth checking out and seeing for yourself. 

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: “Reality and Roses”

Hello, everyone! This week’s re-run is a silly little bit of fluff that I dreamed up from my own ridiculous fondness for watching (even when I’m laughing at the craziness of it while I do!) “The Bachelor” and “Bachelorette”, and then wondering what in the world Killian Jones would make of this unbelievable drama we actually call “reality tv”. The rest just followed from there. It’s set roughly parallel to season seven, but where we get to see the newlywed pirate and princess set up their home together and enjoy another version of the domestic day-to-day that many of us would have enjoyed onscreen. Their little girl is on her way, but not yet born, and Henry is off searching for his own story.

~ Also available on AO3 or ff.net as part of my one shots collection “Of Swans and Swords and Hopeful Hearts”

         “Swan! Swan!”

         Emma struggles not to snort through her nose as she picks up the two plates full of Chen Po’s China Kitchen takeout she has dished up for them.  They’ve already stuffed themselves on Crab Rangoon and Won Ton Soup anyway, but that doesn’t quell her desire for Sweet and Sour Chicken, nor will it stop her pirate from having at least half his new favorite carryout Beef and Broccoli (though he would swear up and down that preference was untrue if Granny Lucas were present). Lately, Emma could swear that she has become a bottomless pit in this, her third trimester of pregnancy.  She can eat Killian under the table hands down, regardless of the food, but Chinese has been her go-to craving.

         She doesn’t even know yet what it is her captain wants to tell her, but the shock and almost affront in his tone lets her know ahead of time that it’s one of those gentleman fish-out-of-water, Land Without Magic things that still, almost two years into their marriage, manage to shock and baffle him. Clearly, leaving him to channel surf for their evening’s entertainment on the “magical picture box” as she dished up the main course has paid off in one way or another, if only for her momentary amusement. 

         Entering the living room once more, a plate in each hand and curiosity – she’s sure – painted across her face, Emma is not at all surprised by the way Killian seems to snap to attention from the rapt focus he had been training on the television.  In seconds, he is on his feet and at her side, taking one plate from her and gently ushering her ahead of him back to the couch before which their drinks, utensils, napkins, and the demolished remnants of their appetizers are strewn across the coffee table. 

         “My apologies, Love,” he murmurs, rubbing his nose along the bend of her neck and shoulder for just a moment, his warm breath ghosting over her skin bared by the boatneck sweater she is wearing and nearly making her drop her plate before she can put it down on their makeshift table and resettle in her seat.  She bites her own lip in her surprised jolt of excitement and almost turns to grab him around the shoulders and pull him back in for a proper taste of those full, irresistible lips – the food can wait after all – only for him to sit back from her on the couch, looking embarrassedly shamefaced. 

         “What, Killian?” she asks, senses reeling and completely baffled. Her hand settles on his bicep, grounding herself as well as letting him know he has her attention.  “What are you apologizing for?”

         Her adorable nerd of a husband gazes back up at her, a slight flush just barely visible through the unshaven scruff of his cheeks as those blue, blue eyes meet hers from beneath his dark lashes.  “For making you get up and fetch the main course alone.  You certainly are not my waitress, and I was coming to help you – truly.  I could have sworn you’d been gone but a moment – I was right behind you! – and then this…this…bloody demon transfixed me once again.” He gestures at the tv vaguely before turning to sheepishly study her face for signs of annoyance.

         Emma can’t help but shake her head, half exasperated and half humored.  It would seem that as remarkable as her True Love is in so many other respects, he is every bit as susceptible to the gravitational pull of the television as any other man.  Reaching out playful fingers to brush aside the longer fringe that has flopped over Killian’s forehead, she then cups his cheek in her hand and pulls him to her easily, pressing a short, teasing kiss to the bridge of his nose.  “No worries,” she soothes with a genuine smile on her face as she meets his gaze.  “I’ve told you time and again that I may look the size of a house and like I shouldn’t be able to move, but being pregnant does not mean I can’t do anything for myself.”           

         His mouth opens, about to argue that he means to wait on her hand and foot, no doubt, but she cuts him off with a shake of her head and a kiss to his mouth this time – which almost derails them completely, her low hum of pleasure in the back of her throat causing them both to dive deeper, pulled together like magnets before she finally leans away, sitting back in her own space once more.  “Besides, I’m the one who couldn’t wait another minute for her Sweet and Sour Chicken,” she adds, breaking the hold of his heated stare to spear one of the breaded poultry bites on her fork, dunk it in the pinkish-orange sauce, and quickly bring the morsel to her mouth.  After swallowing with pure satisfaction, she prompts, “So, what was it you wanted to tell me a minute ago? Something on the tv?” 

         Killian jerks upright at that, eyes wide as he clearly remembers what had gotten him so up-in-arms.  Gesturing to their television’s screen, now advertising some sort of overpriced mop-and-broom-in-one wonder contraption, to which his eyes veer and Emma just barely stifles a giggle as her ridiculous neat freak almost loses his concentration again, this time to the advertisement’s hold.  But then, Killian focuses and looks at her in earnest outrage as he explains, “It was promotion for an upcoming program – one of those preposterous reality competitions.” The disdain dripping from his words would be enough to send Emma chuckling again, this time at how seriously he takes his evening programming, if she didn’t first press her lips together to forestall the outburst and then shove enough chicken in her mouth to keep busy chewing and not reveal how amused she is by the whole thing. 

         Killian isn’t done though; in fact, he looks as if he would march right up to whatever powers-that-be control the network schedule, give them a piece of his mind and wave his hook under their noses for good measure, if he only knew where and how to find them.  He’s just gathering steam as he launches into the rest of his description.  “Apparently some single, mildly attractive bloke is set up in a mansion while several comely young lasses jostle to woo him and win his hand.  That has to be a mistake. Doesn’t it, Swan?  Why, the very premise is ludicrous.  He can’t date all of them at once!  Who would stand for that?!  They called it ‘The Bachelor’, but I must have it wrong.  No true gentleman bachelor would behave in such a manner – nor try it even, if he possessed a lick of sense…” However, his voice trails off at this point, eyes narrowing as he truly registers the expression now covering his wife’s face.  “Wait a minute… Emma, why do you look like that?”

         It’s her turn to blush brightly and unsuccessfully try to avoid his eyes, though it does no good and only tips him off further.  She had once been quite fond of The Bachelor – not that she’d have ever thought to tell anyone about it by choice – but the overly dramatic, outlandish guilty pleasure had kept her company on her couch with a pint of Rocky Road ice cream in that lonely apartment in Boston as she unwound after a long skip chase or stakeout more nights than she could count. “Well, I don’t know how many self-respecting gentlemen they really draw, but you’d be surprised what those ‘lovely young lasses’ as you put it, will stand for – and do – Killian.  It’s more intriguing than you’d think.”  This last is mumbled in a rush as she ducks her head and pretends to have difficulty getting an errant morsel of chicken onto her fork.  She isn’t necessarily ashamed of being a Bachelor devotee at one point, and Killian wouldn’t judge her for it anyway, but she is abruptly struck by how absurd it all must seem to someone who comes from the place and time he does, and with the sense of honor which runs so deeply through his veins.  She flushes all over suddenly, floored by how blind she had been not that long ago, how little she had known back in those days on her own…just how different it is when those feelings the show plays on – when love itself – is True. 

         Killian’s eyes bulge almost comically; she has to reach out to soothingly to pat his thigh, as he’s entirely too distraught for his own good.  “Emma, truly?” he asks, voice quieter but still almost aghast at the very concept.  “He dates all of them?!  The cad!! How can you watch such poor form, Swan?  It’s atrocious!” 

         She grins mischievously at him, shrugging away her embarrassment and giving him a saucy wink.  “Look, it’s easier to just show you, alright?  Tonight’s Monday, so it will be on in…” she checks the clock above the fireplace, “about half an hour.  I’m guessing that’s what the commercial was about.  You can check out the season premiere for yourself, Pirate.”

         Her husband huffs indignantly as if he has no desire to do any such thing, but by the time eight o’clock has rolled around, he has finished his meal, taken both their plates back into the kitchen, brought her a bowl of the restaurant’s specialty pineapple sorbet for dessert, and settled into his place on the couch again, with her feet gathered in his lap.

         As the program starts, Emma points out various routine practices and occurrences on the show, explains how this or that usually works, and Killian seems grudgingly engrossed despite his nobler intentions.  When the appointed Bachelor flubs one of his prospective mates’ names at the cocktail party, Killian scoffs loudly enough to draw her attention. Glancing sideways, she challenges, “Think you could do better, do you? That’s a lot of names to keep straight!” 

         Killian however doesn’t miss a beat, sliding his gaze across to capture hers with twinkling charm, “Any decent suitor has ways of holding onto those names which matter,” he counters smoothly, waggling his brows at her in flirtatious come-on.

         Emma does snort then, but at least partly to cover the way he makes her breath catch and her heart start beating faster.  

         Her husband is smart enough not to gloat at this, though he easily notices and reads her as well as ever, merely nodding with a secretive smile and gathering her close to his side as she leans over on him while they continue to watch.  When it reaches the stage where the chosen man is going on his first intimate date with one of the women and the pair onscreen are sharing a romantic candlelit dinner, Emma tilts her head to look up at her handsome husband, studying his beloved, scruffy profile and sliding her hand over his solid chest to slip under the typical, partially-unbuttoned collar and rest her palm tenderly against the warm, inviting skin right over his heart.  “So, a little more romantic than you figured, Captain?” she questions curiously.

         Killian chuckles lightly, giving a tiny bob of his head in acknowledgment, but when he turns to look back into her eyes, Emma sees clearly that he has not yet played his last card.  Reaching the bared stump of his left forearm, brace and hook long since removed this evening for comfort’s sake, to rest beneath her chin and gently turning her face to just the angle he is after, Killian bends to kiss her slowly, languorously, stealing her breath and every thought of reality dating, exotic locales, or winning their little debate from Emma’s mind.  When he does pull back, just enough for them to each draw a bit of air, their lips still only centimeters from each other, the low rasp of words he intones in that voice she can’t ignore sends shivers all the way down her spine. “Aye, my love, I do see the appeal.” He runs that devious tongue over his lower lip before going back to hers for another taste and nearly making her melt into the couch cushions beneath them. 

         At their next pause, he gathers her closer still, nuzzling his nose with hers, their foreheads resting against each other before he looks into her eyes seriously, his question now truly concerned, “But even so, people do not seriously think that a deep relationship can be formed in this way, do they?  Surely you would not have gone on a show like that?  Competed that way as if love were a wrestling match or choreographed script?”

         Emma tilts her head to the side as she considers his question, shrugging noncommittally when she answers, “Well, no, probably not.  I mean, I definitely didn’t think they were finding real love. But as a lark…who knows?  I mean, they got to travel, be pampered, live it up. It might have been fun.”

         “Fun, hmm?” Killian murmurs at her temple, his hand now gently resting on her swollen stomach, the warmth truly comforting, even as she knows he is about to challenge her again.  “Well, be that as it may, lass, luckily you are now married to an illustrious pirate captain fully aware of how to woo a lady and able to take you any place in this realm, or any other, on the fastest, most marvelous ship in existence.”

         Emma smiles up into his gorgeous face before resting her head on his shoulder and relaxing into his touch for the long haul.  “You’re forgetting the real difference that I finally understand,” Emma whispers to him lightly.  “Back then, I didn’t believe love existed anyway.  It didn’t matter if what they were selling on tv was a scam, because I didn’t think what we have was possible.  Just like you said in Neverland – not until I met you.”

         Killian’s pleased agreement rumbles in his chest, and Emma feels the vibrations pleasantly throughout her own body where she rests in his arms.  The fancy jewelry, ball gowns, televised proposals, and celebrity serenades they see before them on camera, none of that holds a candle to this man with whom she now shares her life and her home.

 ~~ ***~~ 

         And so, when Killian comes in from the station at dinnertime two nights later, and surprises her in the kitchen by kneeling before her and holding out a single yellow buttercup to match the bloom inked on her wrist, and asks if she will accept his token, Emma can hardly be surprised.  Nodding and grinning with perfect glee – and thinking how much prettier this simple flower is, reflecting her more than any red rose ever could – her smile feels as though it might split her face completely in half. Emma finds herself giggling as he stands and somehow manages to sweep her off her feet and spin her around, impressive baby belly and all.  “Well Love, since you have accepted this formerly hopeless bachelor’s proposal, you are entitled to an all-expense paid trip to the destination of your choice I’ve arranged.  We leave Saturday; anywhere you want to go, one more magical getaway before the little one arrives. It’s all taken care of.”

         Swept up in the romance and surprise of her husband’s plan, Emma Swan - now Jones - can only marvel at how her reality is so much better anything she could have imagined.

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @xarandomdreamx @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @the-darkdragonfly @motherkatereloyshipper @xsajx @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @optomisticgirl @tiganasummertree @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @booksteaandtoomuchtv @sotangledupinit @resident-of-storybrooke @stahlop @kazoosandfannypacks @anmylica @hollyethecurious @darkcolinodonorgasm @eddisfargo @jonesfandomfanatic @bdevereaux @zaharadessert @winterbaby89 @swanslieutenant 

[abcd-em]

I posted 7,739 times in 2022

That's 7,737 more posts than 2021!

326 posts created (4%)

7,413 posts reblogged (96%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@seek--rest

@karinaisloud

@spideymichelle

@justaleapoffaith

@rejectofsociety

I tagged 2,364 of my posts in 2022

#petermj - 219 posts

#spideychelle - 197 posts

#ask me anything - 195 posts

#peter parker - 184 posts

#my fics - 184 posts

#michelle jones - 133 posts

#fic recs - 92 posts

#spiderman - 85 posts

#nwh - 72 posts

#michelle x peter - 59 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#i cant wait for the next time i disappear from fandom and then get reminded of a fic that changed me and have to undergo this process again

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Peter Isn't Dead

Peter Parker died in battle six months ago. There was no body, but they all knew. So, why has MJ seen him in the backgrounds of newspaper clippings halfway across the country?

MJ embarks on a road trip of a lifetime to hunt down her pressumed-dead husband and bring him back to where he belongs. She starts to realise there are much bigger forces at play.

Based on Alice Isn't Dead

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55 notes - Posted June 29, 2022

#4

Mover Awayer

“I like you.” MJ tells him.

“I know.” Peter nods.

“And we won’t stay friends if we go to college as a couple.”

“You’ve said.”

“So we don’t go to college as a couple.” Peter opens his mouth to speak, but MJ cuts him off, squeezing his hand and being the one to step into his space this time. “We break-up mutually, let each other go the night before I move. We date and then have one big celebration of it all so we can go back to being friends afterwards.”

Chapter 1

55 notes - Posted November 7, 2022

#3

NWH Fic Round Up

Since NWH is back on everyone's minds... I'm gonna do some shameless self-promo and share my NWH compliant fics. (Also my attempt at starting to sort a more organised masterlist)

Enjoy!

Passed down like folksongs, our love lasts so long - Series

One of us has gotta keep a promise - completed

This series covers Peter, Michelle and Ned’s perspective of things as they regain their memories and try to come back together.

These can be read as standalones, but personally, I think they're better together

MJ has to deal with the aftermath of regaining her memories and finding out that Peter has already moved on.

There is no answer - one shot

While moving MJ finds a note she wrote to herself during NWH

In darkness or in daylight - one shot

Kraven's Last Hunt inspired. Peter is buried alive and has to dig himself out.

We could be the way forward (and I know I'll pay for it) - one shot

Socialite MJ meets Spider-Man again after years apart when she attends a function with one Harry Osborn

It's nice to have a friend - one shot

MJ's perspective on her friendship with Ned and Peter from Pre-Hoco through to Post NWH.

You can hear it in the silence - one shot

Little moments of love between Peter and MJ

You and I walk a fragile line - one shot

Peter's the last of the Parker Line. He didn't think it'd go like this - it's about THAT scene

He's gonna burn this house to the ground - WIP

Dream sharing... or rather, nightmare sharing. Peter really can't catch a break when it comes to magic.

64 notes - Posted March 16, 2022

#2

Everybody Talks

Collab with @seek--rest

For the darling, beloved @spideymichelle

"I've seen what you can do. I want you to take point on this."

She knows better than to celebrate before she's gotten all the information, seen huge campaigns pulled before they can ever be launched - from both sides, planning and participating.

MJ knows it all feels too good for the moment. There has to be something that balances the scale.

There’s always a catch.

"Who’s the client?"

"The Avengers."

Her brain stops for a moment. The sound of the office cutting out behind her as she takes in what has just been said. She wonders if Ned had actually switched her with one of his AI - like she's stuttering to reboot.

At the thought of Ned, a face and a mask flashes into her mind. Empty spaces at lunch tables and a missing name on registers. Forlorn expressions and the early days of a tentative new friendship spent checking silent phones.

“No.”

Chapter 1

64 notes - Posted November 5, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Behind Glass Doors

“They think we hate each other!”

“But we don’t.” She says. Her words are slow and drawn out like she’s struggling to follow. Peter knows he can get in his own head sometimes, but he feels like this isn’t one of those instances.

“Exactly!”

“So why does it matter?” She asks. Her words cut straight to the point. There’s not anything they can do. Coming out and saying ‘well, no. Actually. Spider-Man does not hate MJ Watson, in fact, he thinks about her quite regularly and has been living with her for the past eighteen months’ wasn’t a possibility.

For @spideychelleweek Day 3 & 6: Established Relationship & Secret Relationship/Fake-Dating (or hating in this instance)

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80 notes - Posted June 13, 2022

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